#standalone writing

[revisiting-muses]

Violet & Tifa Hurt/Comfort

Y'know, I really don't give Violet and Tifa's friendship the focus it's deserved very often. But I really do love them. Little snippet of writing of Violet's trauma with Zorvoke getting triggered by the smell of smoke from a campfire.

Violet's fingers trembled, tinging gray at the tips as fear shot gritty through her veins. The color draining out of the world. The scent of smoke coagulated on her tongue, sending her mind spiraling to somewhere else.

Not woodsmoke, but petals, burning in a heady perfume that clogged the lungs with sickly sweetness. Artificial and overpowering. Red eyes, like cherry cough syrup. Fake and cloying to mask its true nature.

Violet couldn't breath. She couldn't breathe- Her lungs burned and the world blurred around the edges.

Gentle humming cut through the shimmering heat mirage of memories. Feminine, slow, soothing.

A form blocking the flickering fire- a rose made of flame flashed in her memory, beautiful and blinding and- Violet flinched back, breath hitching into a sob. The figure blurred to watercolors, warm darks and soft peaches blending to one gradient.

They rocked back onto their heels, continuing to hum while Violet tried to blink the world back into focus. Slowly, the soft curves of the feminine figure, regained definition. Eyes like rich cherry wood regarded her, natural where those in her memory were thick with falsehoods. Warm pools of darkness.

Violet slumped forward, letting her cheek press against the leather of Tifa's jacket. Letting the vibrations of her humming reverberate through her and settle in her chest.

Memories of a different kind of vibration, of a rumbling purr that had made her feel so loved- lies, all lies - she pressed her face harder into her friend. Like she could disappear into her arms if she just burrowed deep enough. Escape from the flickers of memories that left her eyes burning and her heart racing in her chest.

It was over, it was over. But her heart beat desperately in her chest like a caged bird.

Tifa gently rubbed her shoulder, lulling in her humming. "I've got you sweetie. Breathe with me." Violet could feel the way Tifa's chest shifted beneath her cheek. Feel it against her hand, where it was tucked between their bodies and rested against her collarbone.

"I-" The words died on Violet's tongue, like that simple exhale had stolen all the oxygen she'd managed to hold onto.

"Just breathe Vi."

Her throat felt thick with the salty aftertaste of tears. But the perfumed smoke was gone, only the faintest afterimage on her senses. And her breath shuddered in and out. Slowly starting to ease from gasping sobs.

Tifa was rocking them gently in place. Violet let the safety of her arms around her blanket her mind. Let her world narrow to the sound of Tifa's heartbeat, their breathing, the gentle movement.

Things weren't okay. But in this moment? Nothing was going to hurt her.

[revisiting-muses]

Writing for Un-roleplayed plot arcs:

Violet took a shuddering breath, looking across the lab at Billy.  He was holding a vial filled with sand.  It was... it was more dream sand than nightmare sand; a sickly sort of silvery gold that was paler than true dream sand.

"Listen," He said, pushing up his goggles and regarding her.  "You don't have to try this, we can run more tests."

Her jaw tightened, tired eyes shutting for a moment.  "I can't sleep, I can't dream, Billy... I can't do this much longer.  I have to try this."  She curled her fingers around the dark gauntlet on her wrist, nails dragging viciously across the protective surface.

She caught a flicker of concern in his blue eyes.  "Alright, but if it hurts, you have to tell me alright?"  He leveled a serious gaze on her.  "I mean it Violet.  I'm not going to help you punish yourself."

Her hair swayed slightly from the coiling emotions inside her, and she locked it down, waiting until it laid flat and straight again before nodding.  "I understand Billy."

"Good."  He regarded the vial for a moment, before making his way across the lab and gently grabbing her hand, turning it palm up.

She resisted the urge to pull away, feeling her pulse spike as she watched him tilt the vial.  A small amount of the sand shook out into her outstretched hand.  No pain came, no burn marring the pale skin.

Still, she hardly dared breath, rubbing the coarse grains between her fingers.  A feeling, a sense of contentment, she hadn't felt in.... months washed over her.  Tears pricked at her eyes, relief washing over her as she looked up at the scientist.

At the concern in his eyes, she smiled shakily, assuring him,  "It doesn't hurt, Billy, I... I actually feel, okay for once..."

"I'm glad," his expression softened, before he started drawing the vial back.  "We should really do a bit more analysis before we do more exposure though."  

Violet grabbed his retreating wrist, an imploring look in her eyes.  "Please...  I'm tired, Billy."

He swallowed, glancing between her and the vial, before gently removing her hand from his wrist.  She felt anxious electricity flicker around her form, unsure what he was thinking, before he said in a low voice.  "Okay."

He shook most of the contents of the vial out into his gloved palm.  "Close your eyes."  She did as she was told, feeling the weight of exhaustion.  "And sleep."  He blew the substance off of his palm and into her face, and she felt the world melt away.

[revisiting-muses]

I wrote this back in 2017 for a vague modern-verse thing?  Never really posted it anywhere but, been missing these two highkey lately so I thought hey, why not.

The click of the door broke the silence of the tiny apartment, Violet's gaze flicking up to meet the bright blue eyes of her best friend. 

“Vi?”  He questioned softly as he stepped over the threshold, taking in how she'd curled in on herself.  Her treasured stuffed rabbit was held close to her chest, chin resting on her knees.  The red rimming her eyes made it clear she'd been crying.  

Absently, she noted his hair was in it's usual state of disarray, though she couldn't bring herself to be amused by it right now.  She didn't speak for a moment, simply dropping her gaze once more to stare at an indeterminate spot on the wall.  

“I- I can't keep going like this,” she whispered, a tremor in her voice.  Just admitting it felt wrong somehow.  She had to remind herself that Zack wouldn't feel like she was inconveniencing him.  

With a tired sigh, Zack quietly shut the door behind him before striding over to settle onto the couch next to her.  

“I know, we'll figure something out princess,” he reassured, gently wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her back to rest against his chest.  She turned to lean into him, hiding her face in the crook of his neck and taking a few steadying breaths before speaking again.  

“I thought... that if I just got away from home, if I could just get away from my mother that things would start getting better. That I wouldn't be afraid to do what I want.”  Her hand curled in his sweater, and he gently squeezed where he was gripping her waist in response.  “But I don't even know what I want, and even with the money I tried to save up, I can't afford this place for much longer if something doesn't change.”

Zack absently carded his fingers through her hair, something he knew relaxed his friend, as he pondered the situation.  He could feel the slight tremors of the girl in his arms.  

Logically he knew that there were places that could help her get her footing, even hopefully help her overcome some of the negative effects of the parenting she'd had, given time.  But whether she'd listen, well he wasn't sure.

“Things are going to work out.”  He soothed.  “Listen, I know you don't want to consider it, but-”  He glanced down at Violet, trying to catch her gaze. “I really think it would help for you to consider the centers that exist.”  Her head jerked around, wide gray eyes locking with his own earnest blue gaze.  “I'm not- I don't need-”

“Vi, I'm not suggesting it to call you out or anything.  Trust me, they do good work at places like this.  I really think it'll help you.” Violet worried at her lip, but from her silence he could tell she was at least thinking about it.  

“I'll... I'll look into it if you help me with it,”  She eventually conceded.  Zack smiled softly. 

 “That's my girl,” he praised, earning a weak smile.  Taking it as an indication to switch over from the serious topics, his smile gained a more mischievous edge.  “And I know just what will cheer my girl up!” He said brightly, easily scooping Violet up as he stood, gently placing her on her feet and drawing back a bit to offer a hand.  

In spite of the situation, Violet found her smile widening. “My Lady, may I have this dance?”  She rolled her eyes in fond exasperation.

“Why, it'd be an honor,” she replied, the two of them coming together in a well practiced way to move smoothly through the small open space.

[revisiting-muses]

Violet at 5 (Wizarding Verse)

Violet is born to a chef and a secretary, and not in the order you’d think.  During the days her father goes into the office, while her mother tends to be away most in the evenings at the restaurant.  It varies.  

Of course, she’s not really so aware of what they do entails.  She’s five, and she knows her Papa does a lot of typing.  Maman is a whirlwind in the kitchen, knife moving in a blur and nice scents filling the apartment.

They live above a dance studio, and Violet loves peaking out their window to watch the dancers come and go, dressed in their pretty outfits.  They look so flowy and magical.  She thinks one day she’d like to be so graceful.

There tends to be a lot of activity, if not inside the apartment then on the street it overlooks. She enjoys it.  Papa sits with her at night, reads her stories while Maman is away.  On her most recent birthday he brought her a plush rabbit.  It’s a soft gray.  It’s perfect.

She sets the curtains on fire one day.  She didn’t mean to.  The pretty purple sparks rose to her fingers so naturally, and they were just so pretty. She liked watching them dance.

They made her hair frizz. They lit the curtain in a color of fire she’d never seen from the stove in the kitchen, or fireplaces.

Maman yelled at her, staring for a moment in disbelief at the odd flames and the static sparking around her daughter.  

Violet was sent to her little room, hugging Cendre the rabbit.  She could hear her parents talking when Papa got home.  She didn’t like how they sounded.

Papa came in later, brow furrowed.  They had dinner that night, and Papa talked to her about the dangers of fire.  That it wasn’t a toy.

Maman’s eyes were intense, and Violet thought the expression in them was much scarier than the flames.

Things felt different after that.  There weren’t as many fantastical fairytales at bed.  When Violet asked about it one day Maman told her she shouldn’t be reading such things.  It wouldn’t do to have ideas of magic in her head.  She didn’t want people thinking she was a witch did she?

When Violet asked what was so bad with people thinking that Maman sat down and told her about witch hunts in history.

Violet refused to come out of her room for dinner that night, thinking of people burned at the stake.

She realizes she can levitate her plushie, dancing around with it in her room.  When Maman catches her she tries to yank Cendre away, and one of his arms comes clean off.  Violet starts crying.  All the power in the apartment goes out.

Maman tells her she can’t keep doing things like this.  She’ll draw down the wrath of God.  Violet isn’t so sure God is so tough.  From the stories she remembered he just seemed like a big meanie.  Maman lectured her for a long time about that.

She spends the evening sewing Cendre’s arm back on.

Work schedules overlap more, and sometimes neither of her parents are home.  She spins and dances about the main room.  She doesn’t notice the way she’s making other things levitate around her to her movements, sparks of purple magic following behind her but doing no damage.  At least not until Maman yells from the doorway.

The levitating objects drop, gravity reasserting itself, and Violet squeaks.  Purple sparks around her and turns her hair into a staticky cloud.

Maman makes a noise like a growl.

“Violet Michelle, we have talked about this!”  Her mother looms into her space, wrenching her forward by her wrist.

“I’m sorry Maman, I just-“

“No!  Violet, this sort of behavior is not acceptable.  It’s not normal, it’s like your possessed!”

Violet squirms in her grip as she pulls her toward her room, jerking her harshly inside.  She stumbles into her bed from the momentum, whimpering as she bangs her knee on the bedframe.

“If you keep this up we’re going to have to take you to a priest.”

“But Maman!”  The door slammed shut, the fading light of daylight the only thing still illuminating the small room.  Violet let out a cry of frustration, picking up her pillow and throwing it against a wall.  She wasn’t possessed, she wasn’t some kind of demon.  Right?

[revisiting-muses]

HS!Verse - Broken Ties

Violet insides felt hot and sickly, betrayal and hurt burning just beneath her skin.  Her fingers tightened on the door, her entrance unnoticed by the two boys in the classroom.   The two boys that were currently making out.  Jack was standing in front of the desk, leaning into the taller boy sitting on top of it, hair mussed from his fingers.  She'd thought- god she was so stupid.  To think Once-ler would actually want her, she should have known.  When did things ever work out for her after all?  Hadn't it been made clear to her frequently that she wasn't worth the time of day?

She couldn't stop the strangled sob that rose in her throat, shoulders trembling.  She covered her mouth with a hand to muffle it.  Please, please don't hear me, she couldn't-  The two froze, Jack turning to look at the doorway.  His blue eyes widened, hand falling away from Once-ler.  Funny, for a guy who always had something to say, he was awfully silent.  Once-ler drew back, all limbs as he scrambled from the desk, hands out in an appeasing manner.

“Violet- I'm sorry, I can- I can explain!”  A wet laugh escaped Violet.  Explain?!  Tears pricked at her eyes, making her vision blur.  “Oh, I think everything is perfectly clear,” She said thickly.  The words shook, but she kept going before he could speak.  “Clear that I wasn't enough for you.” Her free hand clenched at her side.  “To think, I- I actually thought you cared!”  She bowed her head, trying to hide the tears behind her bangs.  Another broken laugh threatened to escape.  “I thought both of you cared...  Stupid, I get that now.”  Her hand slipped off the door, footsteps echoing as she bolted back down the hall.  

She wasn't sure if either had followed her.  She was pretty sure she'd heard one of them call after her, but it fell away below the rushing in her ears.  She didn't stop until she'd reached the theater room, slipping inside and hiding herself among the costume racks.  The room was dark, lights shut off during the time between the end of classes and rehearsal.  But she knew it, and it was safe.  She let the familiarity of it wrap around her as the tears ran their course.

The problem with highschool is you can't just avoid seeing people. She stopped eating lunch in the cafeteria like she had when she could sit with them, falling back into the habit of spending it in Mr. Black's room.  He didn't mind after all.  Her clothes fell back into pure dark tones again, a silent signal to others to leave her alone.  The pink sweater Once-ler gave her, buried at the bottom of her closet; the gloves with snowflake patterns Jack had gotten her when he realized her own winter gloves were practically useless, same story.

But she still passed them in the hall, still shared science with Jack, and English with Once-ler.  The glances from Jack, she was pretty sure she could see some regret there, but good.  It was them who hurt her, they should regret it. And the attempts from Once-ler to speak to her, the notes he tried to slip to her desk.  She rather enjoyed dripping water on those and watching the meaning of the letters melt away.

In the end it was a relief when Once-ler transferred.  The constant reminder was no longer hanging over her, and his attempts to smooth things over were no longer something she had to worry about avoiding.  She didn't know if the transfer had anything to do with what had happened.  She didn't try talking to him one last time to set the record straight, and she didn't ask Jack.

Things went back to the way they had been before.  She was alone, for the most part, at school.  It was at least better than home again.  And she wrote; she threw herself into the scripts, spent hours in the theater room going over them with Mr. Black.  Life moved on.

[tubbytechnician-blog]

muSIC NOTE THING

Put a ♪ in my ask box and I'll put my playlist on shuffle and write a drabble based on the song

 [►]

Oh my love, I cannot seeI heard your nameI knew at once there was no place I’d rather be

It was hardly the first time that someone had implied that Donald was unnecessary. In the way. More of a hindrance than a help. The comment (overheard from the adjacent room - someone really should have told Doctor Zenész how far his voice carried) didn’t sting the engineer too badly, and hearing his wife’s huffy retort brought a smile to his face.

From the West, to the EastI have flown to be near youI have come all this way to be close, to be here with youAnd now all my heart I will lay down precisely at your feet

From one viewpoint, yes, there was no real need for Donald to be a member of the Everdusk away team. There were plenty of other E.C.U.K. technicians qualified enough to perform maintenance on the Matriarch and lab equipment. His only unique knowledge was that of BR4ND-0N, and while the robot was useful, he was hardly a necessity. If things went to plan the legendary sergeant would have no trouble keeping the operation running smoothly.

Donald knew this. But even if he hadn’t had any marketable skills for the mission, he’d have wanted to go.Even though the wilderness of Sineicos and length of the placement daunted him, he wanted to go.Even though people like Zenész looked down their noses at him, he wanted to go.

I’ve packed my bags, I’m on my wayI am prepared for any season, I am prepared to stayHere is my heart, my beating heart

Just the thought of being apart from his wife for longer than a few months filled Donald with such longing and sadness - he knew they would miss each other terribly if he didn’t come. He knew there was no real reason he shouldn’t be the technician, and that he shouldn’t bring BR4ND-0N along to help. There was no guarantee that communication lines wouldn’t be disrupted by the icy conditions, or that something terrible wouldn’t happen—

With that in mind, Donald had checked and triple checked the mission briefing, done a thorough run-down of the requirements on his part, looked over the equipment and psyched himself up.For Sarah, he’d go anywhere.With Sarah, he’d be fine.

My beloved, oh my sweetAll the gifts you have given meThe patience and the peaceCherry blossoms and the candyI am yours, I am yoursFor as long, for as long as you will have me

[tubbytechnician-blog]

i know its a music note so pretend i sent in a music note because mobile sucks

Put a ♪ in my ask box and I'll put my playlist on shuffle and write a drabble based on the song

 [►]

"When a man’s an empty kettle,He should be on his mettle,And yet I’m torn apart…Just because I’m presumin’,That I could be kinda human,If I only had a heart.”

The hiss of water in the sink accompanied the soft singing, Irving taking time and care to clean up before his shift began proper. Presentation was everything, after all. Shutting the water off, watching it drain away, drying and clothing his hands - it was all part of being an artisan. His head swung towards his esteemed guest, a sickly sweet smile spreading across his lips.

"Oh, good, you’re finally awake! I mean, sure, beauty sleep is important, but it’s kind of a waste if you keep on lying to us and I have to rearrange your features every day, right? Right! So, how’s about you get talking, and then you can rest as long as you want."

Any useless babble (“I told you, I don’t know anything!”) was tuned out as Irving turned back to his tool-kit, wide smile injecting mirth into his song.

“I’d be tender, I’d be gentle,And awful sentimentalRegarding love and art.I’d be friends with the sparrows ,And the boy that shoots the arrows,If I only had a heart…”

The fireaxe was looking particularly fun today.

"Picture me a balcony above A voice sings below—”

Irving swiped the weapon in a wild arc, starting the captive horribly and prompting a yelp as he jabbed at his silent partner.

"Alexander…! C’mon man, give me something; it’s a duet."

There must have been some gesture or other, unseen by the rebel, because Irving wooped with laughter and mocked a swoon, hand over his chest.

"I hear a beat, how sweet!Where were we…? Oh! Yes. Time for you to sing like a canary. Where are you hiding the documents you stole? Alexander, grab a leg for me.”

The blade of the axe glinted in the too-bright light as it was hefted up, the blonde moving it softly downwards in a mock-swing, plotting it’s movement.

"No, please, f-fuck! I don’t know I don’t know anything, my boss—"

"Just to register emotion, jealousy, devotionAnd really feel the part”

The air whistled. The woman screamed.

"I could stay young and chipperAnd I’d lock it with a zipperIf I only had a heart!”

[tubbytechnician-blog]

♪ ~~

Put a ♪ in my ask box and I'll put my playlist on shuffle and write a drabble based on the song

 [►]

In a strictly guarded industrial facilityIn the outskirts of the cityWhere future is made of iron and plasticI experienced something fantastic

Working in the catacombs of R&D, Donald Gaynor was at all times surrounded by metal, thick cables, plastic casing and the smell of motor oil. He was familiar with the chill of metal against his skin, the whirring of fans, and the low hum of processors. Perhaps this is why he was not overly startled when he felt the sudden cold, flat press of BR4ND-0N’s hand on his, turning to face the robot with little more than a raised eyebrow.

"BR4ND-0N? What’s the matter, buddy?""My sensors indicate that the environment is optimal. Your life functions are only 5% below optimal. Despite this, I wished to confirm your status under closer observation.""…You were worried?""I believe so."

Donald was torn between pride and sadness, focusing on the latter as he searched the robot’s face for these new emotions the droid couldn’t physically convey. Almost unthinkingly he reached out, cupping the back of BR4ND-0N’s head with a gentle hand and stroking against the hard casing. Soft. Soothing.

"I’m so sorry. I’m a little tired and stressed right now - that’s likely the abnormality you detected. It’s nothing too bad, though. I just need some rest and TLC."A quiet whirr could be heard as BR4ND-0N processed this."You require physical comfort? I am always happy to assist."

Donald abruptly recalled he was still holding the robot’s hand, still caressing his head, the engineer’s face pinking as he stuttered out a weak protest. ”It’s, it’s fine BR4ND-0N, I…” 

He felt gentle, but robust

Firm arms encircled him, strangely welcome in the loneliness of the empty lab, squeezing the human with a measured force. Donald’s glasses had been pushed askew with the proximity of BR4ND-0N’s face, and Donald recognised the gesture for what it was; a simple, sweet kiss to his cheek. It was incredibly brief, and heart-warmingly innocent, and Donald was left blinking in flustered confusion when BR4ND-0N stepped back and inclined his head curiously.

"Research indicates that kisses and hugs trigger the release of endorphins and other calming chemicals. Was this sufficient?"

Donald’s chest felt light as he pecked BR4ND-0N’s cheek in return, soft smile in place.

"I feel much better. You did good."