Cheriour Leclair (
chroniker) wrote in
trollxzibit2012-10-17 08:15 pm
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LADIES AND GENTLEMEN AND COCKROACHES MAY I PRESENT TO YOU THE INFAMOUS

2. Others will comment on your characters, anonymously or logged in, suggesting ships and prompts they want you to write about.
3. Anything goes, from fluffy to smut to everything in between! Also, there is no word limit, so it can be as short or as long as you want.
4. ????????
5. ALL THE SHIPPING EVER AND ALSO FEELINGS
GO GO GO AND SHIP FOR GREAT JUSTICE
also just a note BUT THIS ISN'T LIMITED TO JUST SCRIB PEOPLE you could put your character's ancestors/guardians and whatnot for the shipping too if you want to, whatever floats your boat
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Kal<>?Kappy
You feel bad, standing next to him and tugging the box down, watching his embarrassed face, the way his eyes dart to the side and his hands twisting the hem of his shirt. You murmur that it’s okay but he apologizes anyway. You wish he wouldn’t, the word rings false to you like he’s apologizing for the sake of it and not for anything in particular, but you don’t say so.
Instead you lay the board out, set the pieces up, red for you, yellow for him, and as you shuffle the cards, you explain the rules in your slow, careful warble. He has this eager smile on his face like he’s forgotten his troubles for a moment. It fades when he realizes you’re done setting up and you’re watching him. He murmurs an apology again and you flinch, a little.
But then you play, and each turn you explain a little more, guide him, until he’s playing on his own and you each set each other back in ever worsening moves. He keeps apologizing. You keep tensing until he sets his last yellow piece home and murmurs, “Sorry,” again and you can’t stand it, you can’t stand anything, you feel like you’re shattering and you must look it because suddenly there is a sort of panic on his face.
And you, you curl up, pull your fingers through your hair until they tangle all up in the tight coil and you want to scream but you can’t. You want your moirail but you can’t have her. You wanted to win but you can’t do that either. You can’t you can’t and the realization force your hands to the edge of the board and you flip it. There is the clattering of plastic on tile and his voice a vague insect buzz in your ears as everything turns and the world tightens. You can’t breathe you can’t see you can’t think—
Then his little hands against your chest, his voice still a strange hum you can’t understand. He says sorry but he means it this time and his fingers tracing your rib cage through your shirt make your breath catch and calm. You lean towards him and he touches your face, too delicate to be your moirail, her sharp nails echoing bitterly in your mind, but this is soothing in its own way too. You settle, relax into the delicate pressure. Eventually he steps away, resets the board, asks if you want to play again.
You apologize, first, and then you agree. So you play again.
failing to provide adventures whoops
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