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 The Doctor: Those inside the mask (typeset) (#triggerwarnin)

Joined: Tue Nov 16, 2010 6:55 pm
Posts: 80
Thu Jan 10, 2013 3:15 am
(Preface: this is in response to my "Just came up with something" post.)

(#trigger warning #homosexuality #huge sweaters #role-playing games. You have been warned. Please enjoy, and please comment- just no hate spamming; I am a huge supporter of LGBTQ rights, so part of this is simply to express my own opinions. It does become a huge plot point, though- if you're not a fan, then please ignore this story. Again, enjoy.)

The party moves along within the dreary forest.

There is a sparkle in the corner of your eyes- as you turn, the greenery rustles in the wind.

"Ah! What's that?"

"Ari, what's gotten into you?"

"S-something was just moving!"

"What? You've gotta be kidding me."

"Nope, nope, nope not kidding; this is freaking me out--"

"You've been crying wolf all day--"

"Mel, you're taking the lead, I can't do this--"

Your party was blindsided!

Your party has died...

Game over!

Continue?

Yes

--)> No

The game sang to our characters an 8-bit serenade as Mel and I threw trail mix at each other.

"Ari, you moron," Mel cackled, "freaking yourself out while playing an RPG is not how you win!"

"Oh, well, sorry, Ms. Composure. Do you want to step outside for a tic and regain your cool?"

Her face flushes into a crimson shade as Mel troops out of the room in a mock huff- and it is in that moment that I notice her grace, even when trying to look stupid. The door slams shut and she's out of view, long enough for me to release the breath I had no idea I took.

God, this is so wrong, on so many levels. I mean, Melody and I have been inseparable for years. But the longer we're together, the more I start to want her- all of her. But she couldn't feel that way about me.

There's no doubt that she's straight, after all.

"Aria," Mum calls through the floor of our brownstone, "one of your ridiculous sweaters has a hole in it. Grab your kit and come fix it."

And what kind of a girl dates another girl who only wears stupid sweaters?




 Re: The Doctor: Those inside the mask (typeset) (#triggerwar
moderator

Joined: Tue Dec 27, 2005 9:14 pm
Posts: 1714
Sat Jan 12, 2013 5:19 pm
Hi tarochan1412, Nice work coding your story! I'm glad to see some work going up again. Also, I just wanted to remind you of something that I remind others who are writing stories where romance (straight or otherwise) comes into play, that everything must be kept G-rated. Because the Write It boards are accessible to readers of all ages, content really does need to stay in that range. It can be a gray area, but we'll figure it out. A kiss is about as "mature" as we get. Let me know if you have any questions and nice work, Best, Write It Mod



 Re: The Doctor: Those inside the mask (typeset) (#triggerwar

Joined: Tue Nov 16, 2010 6:55 pm
Posts: 80
Thu Jan 24, 2013 11:51 pm
All right! It worked!

I do plan on keeping it G-rated; it should simply be unrequented love.

I also plan on tagging this story with "#trigger warning" when I update it and prefacing it with a synopsis- with a phrase and in many phrases. If we even stray from G, then it should be at the top with unnessicary hashtags AND in the synopsis. :3

Thank you very much for the encouragement and advice, Mod, and a shout-out to the brilliant STACKer who posted the coding! (I can't remember your name off the top of my head, but all of you with stories to post should keep this in mind: < p >. Subtract the spaces and stick that at the end of your paragraphs and the code will manually make a new line.)




 RE: The Doctor update! (typeset) (#triggerwarning)

Joined: Tue Nov 16, 2010 6:55 pm
Posts: 80
Thu Feb 07, 2013 2:46 am
#authorswap #fourthwallbroken #Ireallyhopethisistypesetproperly

(This time we change to Mel's point of view; she notices that Aria has been acting strange recently. We also get a bit of Ari and Mel's background, and I decided to throw in a bit of action here. It's all G, but there's a hint of PG or PG-13 happening, violence-wise. Mel doesn't actually see it. *Author's note: thank DEITIES for study hall. :P*)

The door slams behind me and I release a sigh. It makes me feel awful, but I can't seem to be in the same room as Aria anymore. Sure, she's sweet and can be very funny when she wants to be...

But she's been acting strange lately. She has massive mood swings when we're together, and feels the need- whenever we're, oh, I don't know, in public together?- to state that we've "been friends for SO long", like my knowing people is a crime.

I'd love to dump her where she stands-- stop being friends with her, truely-- but I just... don't want to hurt her.

She scares me now. And I don't know why.

After that rollercoaster of a soliloquy, washing my face seems like a pretty good idea; the bathroom is down the hall on my left. It's small and the door is impossible to open in the summer- the heat makes the wood expand; I remember when we were locked in there, after we stole one of her mom's tubes of lipstick- and notice a new crack in the mirror on the medicine cabinet. I remember the one we made in the lower right-hand corner, I think, tracing it gently. Not that one though.

"Oi, Ari," I call, my hand still on the fragile remenants of our memories, "what's up with the mirror here?"

She doesn't answer. I suppose she can't hear me.

I call her name a little bit louder, yanking at the door now. "Ari?" Great, it's jammed. Just my luck.

I slump against the wall, facing the mirror. Her mom yells through the floor (ceiling to her, I guess) and soft footsteps sound outside the door, preceding a heavy sigh. The footsteps, and consequently the feet and body attached, clunk down the stairs.

Realization hits me with the force of a asteroid impact: "Oh, shoot! Wait! Ari," I yell, desperate to get her attention. "Ari, get back up here! Aw, Ari..."

Well, congratulations, self, you have officially locked yourself in a bathroom without using a lock. Now what, Houdini?

A scream and a laugh resonate through the floor, and suddenly, as I hit the floor with a thunk and begin to cry from panicing, I'm realize that I'm not eager to leave the bathroom anymore...




 Re: The Doctor updated/ update! (#triggerwarning)

Joined: Tue Nov 16, 2010 6:55 pm
Posts: 80
Sat Mar 16, 2013 1:34 am
#i'msimplyupdatingthestory #hintsofbloodydeath #jumpingaround #refertoearlierunnessicaryhashtags #you'veseenalotofthisbeforedonttellmeotherwise #wonderfultreesonfire #<-insidejokesorryguys

(I've changed the language around a bit, so I'm posting everything I've come up with so far here. It's jumping around a lot in the story, so please bear with me. Especially the last part; I want that to be near the middle/end-ish, meanwhile the first three parts I want somewhere toward the beginnging. I'm thinking the start of the superpowered people will be something like Static Shock- EXCELLENT show, go rewatch it, it's mostly on youtube- but I'm open to suggestions. Thanks! Comment please! And the penultimate hashtag was a joke from a recent trip... we would sign that to each other randomly. Sorry. It seemed appropriate.)

---

The party moves along within the dreary forest, picking its way through decaying plant matter and gnarled roots. Equipment clanks and jingles as heavy footfalls land throughout the forest, alerting anything and anyone nearby that you either mean business or run a decent one.

There is a sparkle in the corner of your eyes; the grass rustles in the wind as you turn.

There is also a movement at the window.

"Ah! What's that?" Eyes widen, a sharp intake of breath rasps into the throat of a teen dressed in baggy, ill-fitting cargos and sweaters.

A shadow flees-- an altercation is imminent, something whispers, if immediate evasive action is not taken-- but not fast enough to avoid the panicked eyes of its prey. Another day.

"Ari, what's gotten into you?"

"S-something was just moving!"

“What?” Eyes narrow. The more confidant one- wearing the clothes hugging her skin, hiding nothing behind large layers- must have detected a rustle , a scrape, an ill-timed breath. She noticed the presence of the shadow and its owner. “You've gotta be kidding me."

The wind picks up, now howling in your ears. You step into the open, trying to ascertain the wind’s direction.

"Nope, nope, nope not kidding; this is freaking me out--"

"You've been crying wolf all day--"

"Mel, you're taking the lead, I can't do this--"

Was it all part of this game the target was playing? It could have been, but... the two girls had exclaimed out the window, and were seemingly ignoring the tiny screen on the floor.

Your party was blindsided!

Game over!

Continue?

Yes --)> No

---

The game sang to our characters an 8-bit serenade as Mel and I threw trail mix at each other.

"Ari, you moron," Mel cackled, "freaking yourself out while playing an RPG is not how you win!"

"No, Mel, I swear to everything holy and then some, there was something outside the window--"

"Honey," Mel replies coolly, "we've done this routine already. You see things, I tell you they're not real, you insist, I insist some more, we make smoothies. Can we please just skip to the smoothies and games today?" She gives me a pouty look that she knows, just- knows I can't resist.

"Oh, well, sorry, didn't know you wanted to change routine," I retort, hoping my nerves don't betray me with a cracking voice. "Do you want to step outside for a tic and regain your cool?"

Her face flushes into a crimson shade as Mel troops out of the room in a mock huff- and it is in that moment that I, again, notice her grace, even when trying to look stupid. The door slams shut and she's out of view, long enough for me to release the breath I had no idea I took.

God, this is so wrong, on so many levels. I mean, Melody and I have been inseparable for years. But the longer we're together, the more I start to want her- all of her. But she couldn't feel that way about me.

There's no doubt that she's straight, after all.

"Aria," Mum calls through the floor of our brownstone, "one of your ridiculous sweaters has a hole in it. Grab your kit and come fix it."

And what kind of a girl dates another girl who only wears stupid sweaters?

---

The door slams behind me and I release a sigh. It makes me feel awful, but I can't seem to be in the same room as Aria anymore. Sure, she's sweet and can be very funny when she wants to be...

But she's been acting strange lately. She has massive mood swings when we're together, and feels the need- whenever we're, oh, I don't know, in public together?- to state that we've "been friends for SO long", like my knowing people is a crime.

I'd love to dump her where she stands-- stop being friends with her, truely-- but I just... don't want to hurt her.

She scares me now. And I don't know why.

After that rollercoaster of a soliloquy, washing my face seems like a pretty good idea; the bathroom is down the hall on my left. It's small and the door is impossible to open in the summer- the heat makes the wood expand; I remember when we were locked in there, after we stole one of her mom's tubes of lipstick- and notice a new crack in the mirror on the medicine cabinet. I remember the one we made in the lower right-hand corner, I think, tracing it gently. Not that one though.

"Oi, Ari," I call, my hand still on the fragile remnants of our memories, "what's up with the mirror here?"

She doesn't answer. I suppose she can't hear me.

I certianly wouldn't want to hear her right now.

I call her name a little bit louder, yanking at the door now. "Ari?" Great, it's jammed. Just my luck.

I slump against the wall, facing the mirror. Her mom yells through the floor (ceiling to her, I guess) and soft footsteps sound outside the door, preceding a heavy sigh. The footsteps, and consequently the feet and body attached, clunk down the stairs.

Realization hits me with the force of an asteroid impact: "Oh, shoot! Wait! Ari," I yell, desperate to get her attention. "Ari, get back up here! Aw, Ari..."

Well, congratulations, self, you have officially locked yourself in a bathroom without using a lock. Now what, Houdini?

A scream and a laugh resonate through the floor, and suddenly, as I hit the floor with a thunk and, to be honest, begin to cry from panicking, I'm realize that I'm not eager to leave the bathroom anymore...

---

Taken into a dark alley by a Goth Loli is enough to dampen anyone's spirits: it's frightening and a little surreal, seeing a doll-like girl leading thugs and their victim gracefully through seedy side streets.

And yet I continued, knowing exactly what was going to happen. I would be taken to a side street, pinned down while the bully-bodies would beat me within an inch of my life; their leader, not wanting to appear soft, would deal the finishing blow. I would be dead or unconscious, and then my body would be discarded like a banana peel, to either rot or die from exposure.

But I couldn't help it. That brute and her brutish posse had messed with me one time too many.

They shoved me into the ground in a display of power- and I though, just for a second, that I could see them-see them, just outside of my peripheral vision, circling me in the tiny city corridor.

What took us all by surprise was that Madame China-Lolita--her real name escapes me right now, but I've heard it before-- made a dismissive gesture toward her rough-and-tumble squad leader. "Ladies, you can step back. I'd like to take this pussycat on myself."

It was pretty weak, I'll be the first to admit; but I have not been called a quick-tempered yankee without reason.

And like every other quick-tempered yankee, I thought with my fists more than my brain-- so I got up, planted myself firmly on the ground, and punched her square in the jaw.

Now, mind you, I'm pretty scrawny. I could hardly pull my bed away from the wall to grab a poster when it falls, and that metal contraption is on wheels. Imagine my (and her) surprise, then, when I send her flying like a ragdoll. Her smug look goes with her upper left canine about five feet to her right, and is replaced with shock, horror, and lastly, rage. "How-- how did-- how could--- how DARE you, you little--!" The spineless punk is silenced with a look, but quickly builds her head of steam again: this time, though, in a quiet, smoldering rage. "I'll murder you for this."

While she was raging, I was retreating-- not escaping, but a tactical retreat, there's a difference-- and her cohorts had fled not long after their boss was knocked on their face. I was a good thirty feet away when she read my obituary aloud. Nevertheless, after she pronounced my death, I was hoisted in the air by my upper torso and neck as if the Lord himself commanded it-- which, while being incredibly unpleasant, to say the least, was also impossible. "Not--! What--the..." was all I strangled out, but what I was thinking was, Not possible! What is going on here?

---

I've had it. I've had it, I've had it, I've had it up to here with this garbage!

I stumbled down the alley, my sweatshirt battered and caked with blood that wasn't mine.

My only regret. It wasn't mine.

No, my latest in a string of regrets.

My first was even starting this buisness.

Heros save people. I can't save the one person- the one I couldn't save...

Couldn't save...

"Couldn't save..."

This mask is useless. The lies, the deceit, it's all worthless, garbage now.

So why?

Why can't I throw it all away?

I sob, the mask slipping from my slick fingers onto the ground. Those same fingers cradle my face, all of me going numb from the shock, the grief. I held her- I was there, behind the mask, too scared to show her a friendly face as she passed. She died in a stranger's arms, with nothing to tie her here- and now I have to watch her pass again.

A stranger watching a stranger, both dead but only one still telling lies.

I can't take that.

---

(Again, I'm still working on, like, EVERYTHING, but if you guys have any constructive feedback, I welcome it. Yeah... that last scene almost made me cry when I thought of it. Sorry guys. It's a heavy story.)




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