vespidazed

Battery Acid (Jolteon)

  • she/her

Profile pic SpoonyCatt@twitter

🔞 34 y/o + plural + bipolar 2/PSTD

Headline will be name of person in icon.

Just some bug therians chasing a kinder world.

CWs: frequent drug use talk.

(Kisses @QuakeRoc, @NONBINARY, @QueerFurries, Beas, @FlyFeline)


hellhounds
@hellhounds

"My advice? Let it go."

Aladalei wound up and pitched a stone out over the surface of the obsidian-black lake. It landed with a flat, heavy plunk.

"Fuck. I've been down here like two hundred years and I still can't skip one of these fuckers."

Type cocked vhyr head, a motion exaggerated by the skyward-pointing tines of vhyr horns. "You can count those down here?"

"Well, no. Time's too fuzzy, duh." Aladalei made a mess of gestures at the air. "You know what I mean. Long-ass time."

"Long-ass time."

Type turned a stone over in vhyr hands. "All I know is that the rough-edged ones won't work."

Sure enough, it didn't. Plunk.

"I don't get how anyone does this." Aladalei huffed, running a finger through their hair. Their fingers rerouted around their horns, a reflex Type had yet to build. "Why, yes. How, no."

"Good for occupying your hands while you talk."

"Good for restless thoughts."

"Good for conversations."

Aladalei kicked some stones on the water's edge, just barely pushing them under.

"Seriously, let it go."

"I don't think you get to decide that for me."

"Not trying to."

Type whipped another stone out over the water. It just barely skidded over the surface, vanishing with a sad little flish.

"Doesn't count," grimaced Aladalei.

"Hm."

Pulling vhyr tail to the side - again, not yet a reflex - Type settled onto the cold mess of rocks that could only just be called a beach.

"You keep bringing it up. I keep saying no. You aren't taking my answer. That's trying to decide it for me."

Aladalei's mouth opened and closed a few times, each matched by a half-started wave of their hands. Eventually, they arrived at a slump. "Fuck."

"I get you're coming from wanting to help-"

"-of COURSE I'm trying to help!" spat Aladalei, sudden, explosive. "I've seen like, four hundred years of people doing the same thing!"

Type just looked up, blank, patient.

"It's the mistake everyone makes at first. It's a mistake everyone made when alive, it's a mistake everyone keeps making when they're dead."

"I have a feeling," began Type, "that you don't my case, exactly."

Aladalei slowed down, suddenly. They sat in a sort of bodily collapse, the dirty smear of the stones instantly soiling the white fur of their legs.
"No, I don't."

They took a breath.

"Closure."

"Closure?"

"Closure, yeah." The words were soft, slow. Out of character. "Idea that you're going to get an answer to everything. Idea that you're going to find what you're looking for.

"Idea that just because you've drawn the lines in your head, you can color them in nice and clean."

"I'm not going to stop looking for her."

"I-
"Do you think you're the first person to try finding someone specific down here?"
Aladalei stood.
"Do you think that you're the first tragic love story?"

"Aladalei..."

"We were going home together. We were next to each other. We were literally touching when the building collapsed."

The next few minutes were only the sounds of breath and water. Then, the sound of a fist slamming into rock.

Aladalei shook their arm. "Ow, fuck.
"Fuck."

"I know," began Type, "it's not going to be easy."

"Literally EVERYONE says that exact same thing!" snapped Aladalei.

"Please stop interrupting me."

"...sorry."

"It's fine."

Type tossed a stone in a half-hearted arc, without trying. It skipped. "Only when it doesn't matter, eh?"

"One of the few things that does work like the stories we tell."

"You know," Type pushed vhyrself to vhyr feet, "that's why I picked this name."

"What's why?" Aladalei looked up, meekly. "Weird in tandem there, 'what's why'.
"Sorry, go on."

"I figured if I do something unexpected and make something memorable about it, it'll linger as a story. Breadcrumbs that'll lead back to me."

"I get that," said Aladalei, "but that's far from the most out-there name I've heard. Experimentation is a selling point of Hell, remember?"

Type smirked. "Here, try me. Pretend you think I'm someone you're looking for."

"What?"

"Weird prompt, yeah. But... try it."

"Ooookay..."
Aladalei cleared their throat. "Hey, are you... uh.
"Uh."

Type looked on, passively.

"Fuck, bad with names. Uh. Are you the friend I'm looking for?"

"Nah, sorry. Not your Type."

Aladalei stared blankly, before their personality snapped back to default. Loud, echoing laughter drowned out the lap of water.

"Fuck me, seriously?"

"Seriously."

Aladalei let the remaining pressure in the atmosphere out with a sigh. "Well, got me there. Can't say I'll forget that."

The two lost a few moments to the horizon, staring out over the water.

"Still think closure is a myth."

"Good thing this place seems like a myth. Good thing I like telling stories, too."

"Fair enough."

Aladalei tossed the key to their car over to Type, who caught it without trouble. "Next stretch is yours, still."

"Wasn't expecting anything other."

Turning away from the ocean, doing their best to balance on unstable, wet stone, both hellhounds started making their way back to where they'd started the detour.

"One thing I gotta fess up to, Al."

"Hm?"

"Didn't do my part of the acting right. Gave it up for the punchline."

Aladalei blinked. "I have no idea what you mean."

Type opened the driver's side door. "I think you're a friend I'm looking for."

Vhy disappeared inside immediately after, never catching the "You sappy fuck" escaping Aladalei's mouth.


You must log in to comment.