amaranthh (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
greenling) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
rainbowfic2013-08-13 01:29 am
greenling) wrote in rainbowfic2013-08-13 01:29 am
Harvest Gold #12
Name: Greenling
Story: Asking for Roses
Colors: Harvest Gold #12 (napping(... well, trying to))
Supplies and Styles: Glue ("It might not seem like a good idea at first, but your disclosure will relieve some of the tension and allow you to enjoy your day."), Oils ("a little hope is a dangerous thing"), Graffiti (Midsummer Night's Dream prompt) because those were actually seperate
Word Count: 389
Rating: PG
Warnings: None.
Summary: Some things that are incredibly stupid are far more sensible choices than the alternative. This snippet might make terribly little sense at the moment, but I have everything else planned around it... anyway.
Also, going to get back to reading other people's fic very soon, very sorry about that. Everyone around me is on vacation and wants to go Do Things. Comments, criticism, and questions are all appreciated.
In the end, he had done the best he could to get his shakes out, even if in the end, that had meant shutting himself up inside one of the guest rooms with his phone, a set of headphones, and something from the downstairs bar that he hadn't actually looked at and didn't have much plan to. He sat in an aging pink chair, breathing evenly and letting the music run through him. It was a chorus, something in Latin, that rang with bells and stringed instruments he didn't know the name of. It wasn't his thing. Music really wasn't his thing, but he didn't trust himself with his hands right now.
Thinking about how deeply strange it was to take advice from a near stranger on how to handle his personal issues was at least not thinking of all the terrible things that would inevitably result from handling his personal issues.
Jaymie took a deep breath, again. It came in cycles: the chorus would reach some dramatic crescendo, and he would realize he'd been obsessing over some apocalyptic scenario, and he'd let himself relax a little. Then he would get used to it and his mind would wander back to obsessing.
He was going to tell his family what the hell had happened to him.
He was going to sit down, probably in the living room, and calmly explain to his parents that he had been kidnapped by some kind of creature from a parallel reality that may or may not have been, literally or practically, one of the Fair Folk, and everything else had just kind of flowed from that.
And then he was going to show them, which was a violation of more than one actual rule, inasmuch as the rules seemed to apply in LA, as well as common goddamn sense. All screaming terror he felt at speaking about what had happened aside.
He would do it, and it would be a terrible idea, and someone (probably himself) would end up killed, or they just wouldn't believe him no matter what he did, but he would do it anyway.
Because he owed them.
Apparently.
And, his thoughts continued, releasing his death grip on the arm of the chair and sitting up a little straighter, one way or the other, things can't go on like this.
Story: Asking for Roses
Colors: Harvest Gold #12 (napping(... well, trying to))
Supplies and Styles: Glue ("It might not seem like a good idea at first, but your disclosure will relieve some of the tension and allow you to enjoy your day."), Oils ("a little hope is a dangerous thing"), Graffiti (Midsummer Night's Dream prompt) because those were actually seperate
Word Count: 389
Rating: PG
Warnings: None.
Summary: Some things that are incredibly stupid are far more sensible choices than the alternative. This snippet might make terribly little sense at the moment, but I have everything else planned around it... anyway.
Also, going to get back to reading other people's fic very soon, very sorry about that. Everyone around me is on vacation and wants to go Do Things. Comments, criticism, and questions are all appreciated.
In the end, he had done the best he could to get his shakes out, even if in the end, that had meant shutting himself up inside one of the guest rooms with his phone, a set of headphones, and something from the downstairs bar that he hadn't actually looked at and didn't have much plan to. He sat in an aging pink chair, breathing evenly and letting the music run through him. It was a chorus, something in Latin, that rang with bells and stringed instruments he didn't know the name of. It wasn't his thing. Music really wasn't his thing, but he didn't trust himself with his hands right now.
Thinking about how deeply strange it was to take advice from a near stranger on how to handle his personal issues was at least not thinking of all the terrible things that would inevitably result from handling his personal issues.
Jaymie took a deep breath, again. It came in cycles: the chorus would reach some dramatic crescendo, and he would realize he'd been obsessing over some apocalyptic scenario, and he'd let himself relax a little. Then he would get used to it and his mind would wander back to obsessing.
He was going to tell his family what the hell had happened to him.
He was going to sit down, probably in the living room, and calmly explain to his parents that he had been kidnapped by some kind of creature from a parallel reality that may or may not have been, literally or practically, one of the Fair Folk, and everything else had just kind of flowed from that.
And then he was going to show them, which was a violation of more than one actual rule, inasmuch as the rules seemed to apply in LA, as well as common goddamn sense. All screaming terror he felt at speaking about what had happened aside.
He would do it, and it would be a terrible idea, and someone (probably himself) would end up killed, or they just wouldn't believe him no matter what he did, but he would do it anyway.
Because he owed them.
Apparently.
And, his thoughts continued, releasing his death grip on the arm of the chair and sitting up a little straighter, one way or the other, things can't go on like this.
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