chokethewind | today's perfect moment is (Reply)

When they say it caused flight delays, they mean OUR flights.

Well that was a goddamn headache. Jesus Christ people, I did not spill the mercury, and we didn't shut the goddamn airport down, that was the TSA, not American. Oi vey.

So I was at McDonald's earlier and drinking coffee and starting to edit the next chapter of TFS (it's so cool it gets its own abbreviation now; also, I am lazy) and then I realized I messed up. A lot. Nothing that affects what I've already posted, but a good chunk of what I've had done since then now makes no sense. So... it's probably going to be at least another two weeks before the next chapter is posted so I can fix what I did. Sorry? -hunkers down- I fail at life. All over the place, all the time.

Have tiny part of new fic?

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Suddenly the man stood up to his full height, his muttering increasing sharply into what sounded like an incantation, intoned words full of nonsense and jumbled syllables. Roxas shot a swift look at Axel, and Axel reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone and started texting something. He stopped, looked knowingly at Roxas, and waited. Roxas’s phone buzzed a moment later and he took it out and read, I think he's crazy, should we call the cops?

“No we shouldn’t call the cops, and why the fuck are you texting me, I’m standing right here.”

Axel shrugged a little helplessly, indicating the man standing up and talking now to the vending machine right by the door.

Roxas opened his mouth to say something along the tune of you’re an idiot but it didn’t come out because suddenly the guy screamed. Both he and Axel jumped, and then the guy ran out of the store. They watched him go in silence, and there was a clattering of feet on the linoleum as Namine suddenly appeared, a distressed look on her face.

“What happened?” she asked. “I heard someone scream.”

“It was Axel,” Roxas said. “He saw a mouse.”

“It was actually a spider. They have big eyes. We scared it off, we know you’re a girl and scared of stuff like that.”

Namine didn’t say anything, and went over to the counter and picked up the vest, holding it questioningly toward Axel. “I’m the girl?”

“I guess not,” Roxas conceded, coming around the counter now to look at the box, peering out the glass windows to see if the man was anywhere in sight. Nowhere. The parking lot was empty in the dusty, hazy summer sun. “No, some crazy guy came in and dragged this box in here and then ran off. Tried telling him to bring it back to you, but he was just talking to himself.”

“I think he was trying to tell us something,” Axel said unhelpfully. “He was talking with a purpose, you know.”

“Really?” Namine said, sounding a bit piqued.

“Really,” Roxas confirmed. “Yep, all that gibberish, he really had a purpose. I think he was trying to propose to Axel. Make a man out of him.”

“The real question here,” Namine said seriously, “is whether Axel was ever really a real man to begin with.”

“Oh you two are just so cute,” Axel said, not even paying attention as he reached the box before Roxas, bending to examine it. “Hey look, a trophy. Why the hell is there a camel?” He pulled the little plastic figurine out, looked sneakily around, and then stowed it in his pocket. “I mean, what camel?”

“He didn’t take it around back, take whatever you want,” Namine said, also coming up to peer inside. “Besides, I doubt selling anyone a plastic camel is going to help them with their dire financial situations. Not that we’ve been doing any good on that end,” she amended, a little sourly, casting a glance at the empty store.

“Sweet. Let’s see what other junk I can take and not pay for.”

“Another trophy,” Roxas interrupted, exasperated. “Seriously, honestly? Let’s see what this guy he was so proud of at one time.”

He took it out, blew on the name plate. It was standard, just a bronze, rusty gold cup attached to a cheap, fake wooden base with the fake gold name plate on the side. He peered at it; the lettering was mostly worn away. “Ed...Tom...Le..someone Stone,” he read haltingly. “Something involving… tennis.”

“Maybe we’re related!” Axel seized the trophy from Roxas’s hands. “Maybe that was like, my long lost, second cousin, twice removed brother.”

“Lea, also a very manly name,” Namine commented mildly.

Axel glanced around fervently, then shifted nervously from foot to foot.

“I told you that you can just take it,” Namine reassured him. “We’re not going to blow dart you on the way out of the store, just keep it. I don’t know why you want an old trophy though.”

“Like I said, we’re related,” he said, stubbornly.

“You ought to be committed.” Roxas was shifting through the box some more, not finding anything of real value. There was an old blender, some old cups (and he never got it, why the hell did people buy fucking cups from here, that was just unsanitary), a couple of old shirts, some odd old plastic electronic device. “Well this is junk,” he said, frustrated. “We might as well pitch it out.”

“This isn’t junk,” Axel prostested. “I just found my long lost cousin’s wife’s brother’s son.”

Something glinted, and Roxas pushed over the old bronze, bulky decorative lamp and emerged with a mirror. It had an old, silver frame that had intricate patterns of filigree and what looked like flowers curling around, and up and down. It was cool to the touch, as opposed to the other things, which felt like they’d been sitting in the sun all day. The glass itself was clear, no scratches, and the back was metal, as opposed to cardboard to hold it in place.

“Mine,” Axel said immediately after Roxas had turned it around.

Roxas shrugged. “Don’t care. What the hell do you need a mirror for?”

“So I can prance around in my vest, of course,” Axel said, taking it from him.

“Like I said, not a man.”

“Too true Nami. Let’s get this box to the back and sort the rest of this junk.” Roxas bent to lift it, and it came right away. “Don’t know what his problem was, it’s easy.”

“Like your mom.”

“I’m going to take your mirror back.”

“Sorry Rox. I mean my mom.”

“Right. I’ll be back.”

Don't really know where I'm going with this. All I know for sure is that it involves A) lots of old junk, B) summer nights, and C) horrible dialogue. Huzzah!

All I've been doing lately has been going to work, watching zombie movies, and writing vague, half formed attempts at floaty, not so good things. It's almost September. It's almost fall. I always find good stuff in the fall. Come on tradition. Hang in there