Comments Posted By kristen

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“I’ll show you.” And she does, all but wrenching the DS from his grip and breezing through the first few menus until she finally reaches the character slots. “Okay, now you pick.” Kageyama hasn’t moved his hands since she pulled it away, so the device fits nicely in his hold again. The space between his brows immediately scrunches. “I can chose anyone, right?”

“Yeah, but don’t pick her.” A chubby finger pokes the corner of the screen. “I’m always her!”

“Natsu!” Hinata scowls from behind the couch. “Let Kageyama pick whoever he wants…”

“Not my princess!”

“I doubt he wants to be a princess, okay?”

“You never know! Maybe he does!”

Kageyama doesn’t choke at that. Instead he focuses on the screen and makes a off-handed choice. “Okay, I picked.”

Natsu inspects his selection and makes a pinched face. “He stiiinks, why him? Well, it’s okay, it’s your first time!”

Hinata definitely chokes behind him. “Y-Yeah, Kageyama, it’s your first time-”

Natsu sits back and watches things unfold- that being a pillow flying across the room, and her dumb big brother attempting to dodge it.

» Posted By kristen On 06.02.2014 @ 10:31 pm


I was just minding my own business, walking down the road to the store when I saw those daffodils. They reminded me of you. They reminded me of the time you and me went down to the river and sat and talked and picked flowers. It’s not the same anymore.

» Posted By Kristen On 05.02.2014 @ 6:34 pm


Left, left, right, right, another left… I was left behind, struggling to follow the vague directions left by my smart phone wielding companions. No map in my glove box, and no app on my phone. We were traversing signal-less territory, and I was completely lost. Their cars had left trails of dust hours before, and I had been relying on a simple list of directions. But one too many lefts, and I was left behind.

» Posted By Kristen On 04.28.2014 @ 8:54 pm


His eyes smiled, but his mouth didn’t. I could tell that his carefully sculpted charade of emotionless neutrality was slipping, but he was trying his damnedest not to let me see. I gave myself an inner pat on the back, knowing that I was slowly breaking him down. I loved that boy, and I was slowly but surely making him love me back.

» Posted By Kristen On 04.26.2014 @ 12:09 pm


On their wedding night, Clancey asked Cecilia: “What on earth possessed you to pick me of all people?” He remembers asking this because Cecilia had laughed- she laughed so much some tea had gone up her nose, and they had both laughed then. Cecilia was wearing all of her jewelry, even her seashell necklace, and she would glimmer each time she moved. It seemed so long ago, that time, when he thought he would never be parted from her. As of late he’s just busy. He catches himself sleeping at his desk instead of their bedroom. Some nights he wonders if the bombings, the calls, the investigations- he wonders if they’ll ever end.

“Poor Lowell.” She says one night, and Clancey notices she isn’t wearing any of her jewelry. “You look absolutely dreadful, dear!”

Cecilia takes a minute to realize what she’s said and Clancey is laughing for the first time in a long time. She doesn’t look the same as she did on their wedding night- but still, to him she’s glinting. She’s shimmering.

» Posted By kristen On 03.26.2014 @ 2:15 pm


As a general unspoken rule Cyril doesn’t have much say when it comes to the less than ethical means executing and disposing of certain jobs.

“Oh, sure. Made him squeal for a while. Just like I promised, hah.” He doesn’t have values- he doesn’t need them to be exceptionally good at his job,. “No, I’ll accept the second half in paper. Don’t go tip-toeing around this now, dolly.”

Many of his jobs consist of vague, wealthy nobodies with families somewhere probably overseas, inheritances tucked away in waistcoats and picture frames set ablaze. Sometimes they’ll have kids. “That’s it. You have it here in a jiffy, dolly. Comprende?”

As a general rule, Cyril shouldn’t really care how he kills someone, so long as by the end of the night there is one less person adrift in Melbourne. And yet, he’s always had his own way of doing things- his own style. Cyril does not confuse that with values, especially here when he steps over the unconscious body and looks for the butcher’s knife.

» Posted By kristen On 03.21.2014 @ 5:21 am


He’s currently stagnant, an alarming kind of passive that does not come easily to him but has somehow flattened out the dimples from his cheeks and wrinkles from his eyes as if they were ironed smooth. His face is an unreadable map, devoid of the scrunch of skin that would resemble hills or mountains if one payed close enough attention. Meredith has a hard time reading Elijah in times like these but during them he doesn’t really need to, not yet. Elijah can be vacant all he likes, unresponsive and still so long as Meredith can tilt his head and dab a fresh wound with a wet cloth. After all, he knows Elijah’s silence isn’t stemmed from a lack of emotions- no, that never crosses his mind. Elijah may be feeling a hundred different emotions (all he can name) at once, all of them flooding in, simultaneously rushing.

Meredith can’t do anything about that (yet), but he doesn’t feel compelled to. Not when it’s become so quiet, and not when Elijah finally glances at him and lets at least one flicker through.

» Posted By kristen On 03.19.2014 @ 12:38 am


Everything would go to plan. It would be the perfect night, a trip out of town and a weekend of adventure. Of course, that was when the weather was nice. And then that stupid cold snap hit, and everything froze overnight, and we were stuck. Just the two of us, stuck on the side of the road in an idling car with icicles hanging from the grill.

» Posted By Kristen On 01.28.2014 @ 2:43 pm


The woman stood in a field of wheat, staring into the distance. Straw dug into her flesh, golden weave against her skin. A dog howled at prey behind her, and yet she looked on. He had been gone for too long, gone in a country they weren’t familiar with. Something tumbled inside of her. She rest a hand on a too-swollen belly.

» Posted By Kristen On 01.22.2014 @ 11:18 am


Lights flashed across her face as he leaned her close to the floor. “Hide here,” he told her. The smell of hippies filled her nose, the kind of smell that tells you that no one has used deodorant in a while. He slipped away into the darkness, and the pulsating bodies around her didn’t seem to notice his absence.

» Posted By Kristen On 01.21.2014 @ 4:13 pm


selling isn’t a word i like. i don’t like having to sell to people, and i don’t want people selling anything to me. give me things! that would be much better. let people gravitate naturally toward things/nouns/concepts they enjoy and let them explore from there. none of this selling/convincing stuff. not my style?

» Posted By kristen On 11.25.2013 @ 10:05 am


Todd Allison is a fair proficient when it comes to scheduling and remembering his daily routine. He has sixteen plants to feed, five to feed later, and a couple nocturnal ones that needed watering. It isn’t exactly time consuming when he paces himself, but after a while he starts feeling the pangs too.

“You need to remember to eat once in a while,” Todd Allison didn’t understand why Clancey’s nagging words decided to haunt him now. “Coffee doesn’t count, neither do sweets. We’re all busy on this case but ultimately useless if we don’t get enough energy and rest.” Todd Allison wonders then why he didn’t tell Clancey to stuff it then. Maybe he was too tired.

A while later he’s flipping toast off an iron surface, letting both sides brown significantly before setting it down a plate. He idles, he eats. He approaches one of his larger plants and sees that it’s soil is rich and still damp. He can’t imagine most of these plants surviving if he wasn’t here to tend to them. There’s a purpose for him still, to thrive and eat and rest- so that he can wake another day and tend to them. Some might consider that dismal. He honestly doesn’t mind.

“See,” A bite. “We’re both eating now, aren’t we?”

» Posted By kristen On 11.15.2013 @ 3:05 am


“‘The knee is a hinge joint, it allows for stabilization of the leg as well as weight distribution between’…” The Seirin captain trails off, shutting his eyes when he thinks he’ll be able to concentrate again. “What were you saying earlier?”

“Hm?” Riko lifts her head from her clipboard, her knuckles pressed tight against her lips.

“About the knee. You said something very unsual.”

“Unusual!” With a huff, she graces him with a reply. “The knee is my favorite joint, I said.”

“Ah, yeah. Is it your favorite joint?” Hyuuga adjusts his lenses with a polite frown. “But there’s so many, don’t you think…and different types with different designs-”

“I’d be a terrible coach if I didn’t know what kind of joints the human body has!” He’s very taken aback then, when she laughs. Riko recovers herself and sobers significantly when she continues. “But the knee is my favorite joint. It’s a shockingly simple design- only one direction, yet without it our legs wouldn’t be able to take us anywhere, would it?”

“You like the simplicity.” Hyuuga smiles finally, and Riko huffs quietly back into her layout.

“I do. Make sure to remember that, alright?”


» Posted By kristen On 11.14.2013 @ 3:24 am


Sinbad finds himself flat on his back, shoulders spanned across the fallen fans of several date palms. They prick and poke at his spine but he remains still when the sound of hooves rushes under him. When all is still again he sits up and observes the jungle that entangles itself around him.

“They nearly had us, Ja’far. They headed east!” He squints through the branches and finds his footing on a lone branch. He looks up, and there he is- a scruff of pale white amidst colors and sun.

“You’re loud.” The boy above him growls out, obviously throwing a full-fledged fit in the silent way only Ja’far knows. Sinbad finds it more endearing than anything and plucks a date from a nearby palm.

“I was louder than usual. But we gave them the slip, did we not? We’ll rest here for a bit, then we’ll find our mounts and be off before sunset.”

“Too high.” Ja’far says for a last time, slumping against a tree. Sinbad chews thoughtfully on the little fruit and makes a face.

“Not high enough. You better get used to it, my friend. We’ll be living the high life soon enough.”

Ja’far pauses, then looks down and sees Sinbad grin.

» Posted By kristen On 11.13.2013 @ 3:51 am


“Hold the fort!” An Elijah with dirty knees shouts from behind couch cushion, which is now a grand wall suitable for hiding his visage when he ducks back behind the safety of it. “Keep the wall steady, keep steady, AH- MOVEMENT IN THE HORIZON. RAISE THE DECLARATION FLAG!”

“Okay!” Petunia is still messy from breakfast when she snatches a dish towel and flings it across the barricade. She notes that it flew just slightly farther than their last two flags.

“Wha, Petunia! Why do you keep throwing them?” Elijah turns to enlist in the aid of his second in command. “Meredith! Cross the trench into enemy line and retrieve our flags!”

“No…” Meredith mumbles, wiser than anything, but mostly feeling incredibly cheated that Elijah had decided to bet over what they’d play next over a game of rock-paper-scissors. Petunia is peeking between two cushions and giggling to herself. Meredith wraps his arms around her and pulls her back before she could topple the few books that were stacked just above her.

Elijah frowns. “Now isn’t the time to back out now, Lieutenant! We need to be prepared when our first barrage of fire comes! I should have known- should have suspected from the very beginning! Long have I questioned the methods of our Colonel and her suspicious behavior. Never, never did I think she’d actually betray-”


The fort does not last.

» Posted By kristen On 11.12.2013 @ 2:25 am


Elijah is cunning in the sense that he is able to step quietly away from a conversation and not expect anyone to stop him in return. He slips out of grasps and tangles with his words, easing back like any slick, well-defined politician would. He separates himself from the rest of the pool the minute something tangible and threatening shows itself- Elijah is good at slipping away.

“It’s not running, not even that.” He explains once to Meredith when they are alone again, confined to shadows and four walls hidden from view. Never does he find himself prompt to explain his actions to Meredith, but when he does he says it with a smile that seems to form involuntarily on his lips. “I know exactly what I’m doing, Meredith. We’ll be safe.”

And does Meredith ever know. He can tell the moment Elijah shifts a foot and he’s already a step behind him. He can see the change in tone in which Elijah brings a conversation to a halt and leaves one stumped, stupefied. Meredith is very thankful for the times Elijah has pulled him and himself from the imminence of attachment, especially regarding those they don’t know and will never know again.

But what Elijah doesn’t know, is that Meredith also hopes. Hopes he won’t just as easily, and just as silently, slip from his fingers.

» Posted By kristen On 11.11.2013 @ 4:22 am


A compound is a mixture of multiple things. Chemical compounds in your brain change the way you think and react to things. Compounds and chemicals are tricky beings and I don’t like them. Compound can also mean build upon. Compound interest happens at banks. Compounds are where people go to live during bad times. Religions have them sometimes.

» Posted By Kristen On 11.07.2013 @ 9:56 pm


I grew up on the east coast. Warm beaches, sunny skies, the beautiful Atlantic ocean – that’s home for me. No matter where I go or what I do, the east coast will always be my home.

» Posted By Kristen On 11.04.2013 @ 3:15 pm


He’s responsible enough. As far as responsible adults go, he may only be slightly responsible to commit to his own actions. He never agreed to extend that responsibility to anyone else besides his precious Petunia, and Meredith was an adult all on his own. Was he irrational to act this way, especially around a boy who portrays himself ten times his age?

“I’ll tell you everything you want to know…eventually.” Elijah will admit seeing the clear frustration on Tetsu’s face brings out an old-fashioned kind of cruel giddiness in him. Keeping answers and truths out of the boy’s reach like one taunts a cat with a toy, he’ll admit…it certainly isn’t sensible.

“Don’t bother for now.” Tetsu’s steely tone and unamused frown reminds Elijah that he’s still an adult and still has expectations of him. But for now, Elijah will pretend that sensibility is strictly reserved for adults, and that he is anything but.

» Posted By kristen On 11.02.2013 @ 4:00 am


Goku doesn’t know many things, and he’s made it alright to accept that small fact about himself, regardless of what certain stinking jerk or all too complacent mother hen tells him otherwise. He takes the stretch of days under his foot and grounds them under his heel, savors the dirt and sand between his toes. Some ought to do the same thing.

“Leavin’ already?” Hazel reminds him a lot of a water crane…or maybe cat in waiting and Goku won’t readily admit to something like that. “You get up awful early for a youngster like yourself.”

“Yeah.” One of the many things Goku doesn’t understand is the parable that Hazel surrounds himself in and makes him hard to look at. It’s a slow, tantalizing thing- like when a snake bobs it’s head before striking. “Um, yeah. I’m gonna go play with Gat.”

Goku takes off in a gust of dirt and does not contemplate the things he doesn’t understand.

» Posted By kristen On 10.29.2013 @ 3:46 am


Funny this word popped up. In my life I’ve always thought of suicide as a cowardly way out, and maybe it is. But I think I understand now why some people choose it. Life is just too hard to handle for some people.

» Posted By Kristen On 10.27.2013 @ 10:58 pm


“…What’s so scary about that?” She actually likes the idea of running heedlessly amidst a herd of pounding, trampling beasts and listening to their thudding in her ears.

Cyril lifts a brow and squints one eye at her- Petunia notes that they’re starting to look a little too red around the corners. “Excuse me?”

“For starters, you could get stomped.” Landon hands her a glass of cider. “Among other things.”

“Trampled.” Cyril nods and gives her a smirk he knows is far too ugly and not inviting at all. “Have you ever seen a horse’s hoof make a dent in guy’s head?”

Petunia’s cider suddenly tastes too sour. “Of course not!”

“Great! Let me detail it for you.” Cyril takes her glass, downs it, and continues his story about how he somehow robbed the wrong truck and found himself in a congregation of loose, rampaging horses.

» Posted By kristen On 10.16.2013 @ 12:26 am


He accepts the harsh innuendos and plastered namesake merely because, as a breathing individual himself- still worthy of opinions and contemplation of some- he knows when to be labeled. Never has there been a low enough call to him that has made Tsuna reconsider reaching for the soccer ball or pressing a hand against the indent of a locker. He accepts them gracefully and perhaps more silently than one would think.

“Don’t call me that! I’m not the ‘boss’ of- of anything!”

Noticeably there has been a chance of axis that sets everything on it’s side and leaves Tsuna with an uncomfortable churning in his stomach. “Don’t make up stuff!” He feels the seams of all his other labels stripped away and picked at with sharp fingernails. During this time he undergoes the scabbing and scratching of many new hands clawing away at his past self. His old labels are as flimsy as himself now, no longer an accessory to his bleak outlook on what plays out before him.

“I’m not the Tenth Boss of Vongola!” Tsuna feels the churn in himself and shouts. He imagines ink sinking into his guts, forever branding him in a name that demands his attention like nothing else. Something that might make him stronger someday.

“Shut up, No-Good Tsuna.”

» Posted By kristen On 10.15.2013 @ 1:21 am


She relies on them as much as they used to rely on her, and Petunia used to grant them the opportunity to prove their trust in her when she jumped off a roof or from a tree branch. There was usually some shrieking (mainly- no, mostly from Elijah) and always wide extended arms ready to grab the burden of her when she reconnected with the earth and fell messily into them. Regardless of one swelling ankle or bruised elbow, Petunia laughed. She laughed and thought of Elijah’s shouts and Meredith’s arms as the wings that would lift her up again and bring her back to the pinnacle of whatever height she found herself perched on.

She falls again and again and lets them carry her back to earth.

» Posted By kristen On 10.14.2013 @ 3:45 am


The seas were rough, and I stumbled back and forth as waves battered the boat. It was just a little speedboat, supposed to be a casual fishing trip, a little distance from shore for a little privacy and maybe some better bites. But as icy water splashed over the edges, I knew that our innocent little trip out had now become a struggle for survival.

» Posted By Kristen On 10.07.2013 @ 8:30 pm


“C’mon, everyone! Buck up!” Bentham doesn’t think he could reach out to all of them and give them a good shake- and he’s not sure he really wants to. He knows they all have their own ghosts plaguing their thoughts, their own doubts creeping behind their shoulders and sing-songing into their ears. He knows it’s easy enough to be *afraid*, but he doesn’t want to be afraid.

“We’ll get right to the bottom of this. You’ll see, we’ll have it cracked eventually. Isn’t that right, Rousseau?”

“Since when did you get so sanguine,” Rousseau sneers but says nothing else. They’re all on some precarious clifftop, waiting for the next light breeze to billow them to one side and plunge them into an abyss. He sees it behind their eyes. Bentham thinks he can hold his ground. Bentham resolves to be unshakable. This is what they were picked for.

Peter Bentham definitely…won’t be shaken.

» Posted By kristen On 10.02.2013 @ 9:21 pm


“If it weren’t for your stoney friend over there, I
might’ve had to get deathly serious for a minute.” Rousseau doesn’t
lie through his teeth unless he has moxy to back himself up, and
right now he’s just about all out of it. He knows better than to
cause a scene in a crowded place surrounded by people of all types,
but if he didn’t defend himself at least once (it’d be a good story
later, but still!)- “Eh? You really think it would have taken this
bloke to keep me from knocking your teeth out?” Dylan sounds more
offended than threatening and Marcus just gives the two a sour
glance before puffing out his smoke in distaste. Roland was right
after all. They couldn’t leave Dylan alone in the market place for
bloody anything. “Hey. I’m staying out of it.” “An order of
dumplings?” A fresh hot paper bag drops on the counter between
them. Rousseau double-takes and Dylan squints hard. “Wait-” “I TOLD
you I didn’t steal your dumplings, ignoramus!” “Good on you. I
would’ve had to get deathly serious if you pulled that shit-”

» Posted By kristen On 09.30.2013 @ 10:38 pm


It itches him like nothing else should. Had he obtained sharper claws throughout his life here in Melbourne instead of quiet ones for stalking (mainly), he might have cut them down. Maybe he would have knocked Todd Allison down with a blunt object and tripped Petunia down some stairs. Maybe he would have done away with them both.

But he doesn’t and he blames himself for the scratching and clawing, the bristling in his skin when he shoves all other worries aside and stalks out into the street. He doesn’t see the point in their worrying, their demands or concerns about his well-being (of all THINGS) and their gullible mothering. He only has himself to blame-

And damn, does it itch like nothing else.

» Posted By kristen On 09.30.2013 @ 1:51 am


May does tend to keep most of her old items and necessities from Elijah’s time as a baby around. She knew they’d come in handy again, soon. “She’s going to sleep in it?!”

“Yes, Elijah, for the hundredth time. And don’t climb all over it, it was a gift.”

“You can’t let her sleep by herself in here!” Elijah proclaims with his voice and it echoes loud enough for May to hear shuffling near by. She sees Meredith in the corner but doesn’t call to him yet. “She’ll sleep next to my bed, you know. And why are you so against it?”

“You’re making her sleep alone,” He protests again.

“YOU slept alone in this very crib!”

“I know.” May finds herself staring at her young son’s intense, serious stare. “And look how *that* turned out.”

May sudden snort and laughter signals her defeat.

» Posted By kristen On 09.29.2013 @ 1:32 am


Hana likes to pick out Todd’s scruples, and daily she tries to pry one from him that hasn’t been thinned out several times before. “When you squint, your brows pinch and make a wrinkle. Did you ever notice that?”

Todd Allison already knew he had wrinkles when he squinted but who gave Hana the right to point it out? He’s still one jab short of an outburst. “ that you mention it. Do you really pay that much attention to my face, Hana?”

“Wh- Oh! You think you’re so clever!” Hana’s apron flutters when she spins to meet him and his wrinkly brow head on. Nora sweeps silently and dutifully beside them but still smiles when she realizes that when Hana squints through her glare, it matches Todd Allison’s exactly.

» Posted By kristen On 09.28.2013 @ 12:22 am

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