Get a Life, Janeycake | Open

[mustachioedmaiden]

It was a quarter till 3:00 in the afternoon by the time Jane finally got back to her apartment, her feet sore and her mind muddled with thoughts of all that had gone on that day. She had to admit, she was a bit worried about what she would find upon entry into her flat, but she had assured Dirk that she was fine, and to go on home. This was something she needed to deal with alone. She took a deep breath in front of her door, and closed her eyes, gathering her thoughts. She and Dirk had already ascertained that the more she avoided a situation and the more she internalized her problems, the more likely she was to have a fiasco on her hands. So all there was left to do then was to face this problem head on. When she opened her eyes, they were clear, bright blue laced with the finest glints of iridescent green. 

She unlocked the door to her apartment and stepped inside, closing the worn wood behind her. Everything was just as she had left it, overgrown and humid. Her home was a forest, and she was alone. She could feel the beginnings of apprehension and worry creeping in on her, but she rolled back her shoulders and stood to her full height, looking around the room. And then, she began to talk, giving voice to the things she had kept silent for so long. The things she refused to bottle up any longer. "My name is Janette Johanna Crocker!" She said, her voice more confident than she felt. "I am the heiress to Betty Crocker's empire. But I refuse to associate myself with that godforsaken company. I don't want their money, and I don't want their power."

As she spoke, Jane began to move about the room, the vines parting for her feet as if they dared not cause her to stumble. "I don't want their power because I believe it was unjustly stolen by my mother. The same mother that I believe killed my father in an attempt to claim its fortune fully for herself." The deep secrets that lay heavy on her chest spilled forth, and her voice threatened to break but she spoke onward, the vines receding as she waved her hand outwards as if to banish them herself. "I found his body, and ever since then I've blamed myself for not seeing her for what she was sooner." Jane's voice broke then, a stray tear moving down her face, and then another. She was crying, yet she felt powerful, green static swirling around her now and eyes glowing brighter than ever, sparks dancing from her fingertips as the plants receded still. "But I am STRONG." She called, stomping her foot once upon the hardwood tiling, the tomato plant releasing its ripened fruit in the kitchen before retreating fully back into the compost bin. 

"And... And...." Jane gulped heavily, sinking to her knees in her now completely ordinary apartment, eyes pulsing with green and sparks dancing on her skin. ".... And I can wield life."
 

_______________________________________________________________________________

Hours later found Jane on what felt like her thousandth internet search, seeking out any and everything that could possibly come close to her "condition". To be frank, she didn't know what to call it. Hell, she didn't even know how to feel about it, much less what to name it. She wished she could go to Dirk, but she couldn't. Not yet. She wouldn't speak to anyone she knew about what was happening until she knew what was going on and how to control it.

Realizing that a simple internet search was fruitless, she crafted a fake ask.com profile and a umail account to match it, listing herself underneath the name "Gigi". A thinly veiled play off of her chumhandle perhaps, but she was tired and had more than enough licences to be lacking in the creativity department at this point. 

 

Help! It seems I have stumbled into a nasty spot of trouble. I have discovered that I have powers past what I ever could have thought possible. I know that this assertion sounds crazy, but I assure you I am stating nothing but the facts. I have tried to search the internet, but nothing that I have found seems to produce probable results. Then again, I can't think of a single probable thing regarding the situation I now find myself in. I am not able to give any more information here, but you can contact me at helpgigi@umail.com. Please respond promptly if you have any information that might be of service.

Only Sincere Inquiries Please!

GiGi

[S] No Consequences | Closed to Terezi

[straylines]

Vriska raced up the stairs to her raggedy little apartment on the second floor.
She slammed the door shut behind her, throwing herself into each movement, every bottled up emotion threatening to spilling out of her right this second. Now that she was home, and certain no one could see her, she could finally break into tears.

She wanted to. She was ready to cry. She needed to cry. It was poisoning her from inside out.

So why couldn’t she just cry already? Now that she had the chance nothing happened. Vriska screamed as she flipped her coffee table onto the floor, sending everything on it with it.
Why did everything have to be was frustrating. Why? Why me? Why her? She needed relief, she need everything to stop. It was too much.

Guilt was creeping up on her again, a familiar, sickening, sinking feeling.
She felt it in the pit of her stomach, wrapping around her, tightening her chest, beginning to drown her.

She’d made so many mistakes in her life. She’d done so much wrong.
Vriska choked back sobs, breathing sharp breaths, her eyes still dry. Just let me cry.
She looked at the mess around her, papers and dishes now scattered all over the floor. She picked up a coffee mug, looking at the design.
“World’s #1 Friend.”
She reeled back her arm, chucking it at the wall blindly.

She’d break everything she could get her hands on if given the chance.

The mug crashed into the wall, taking with it a framed picture. Pieces of ceramic and glass settled across the carpet, her miniscule living room now trashed beyond recognition. Vriska picked up the picture from wreckage, defeated, and headed to her room. She closed the door quietly, sinking to the floor against it, the disaster locked safely behind her.

She knew what picture this was, she didn’t need to look at it. She studied it carefully so, so many times before, as if looking at it hard enough would give her some kind of answers. As if, in the faces of the friends she’d once loved, a map would reveal itself, taking her back to that happy moment.

It was the last time she took a happy picture. Five years ago.
Before prom, before the wreck, before everything fell apart.

It had been the middle of her senior year; She stood in the middle of the picture, her arms pulling Kanaya and Terezi into an unprompted hug. Everyone beamed, smiling and laughing with her, so happy and full of life. Vriska traced their expressions with her eyes, the shapes slowly getting blurrier.

Just months after this picture, the night of senior prom, Kanaya would write Vriska out of her life without saying a word.
Like she didn’t even matter.
“She didn’t even tell me why,” Vriska whispered, her voice cracking.
The image of Kanaya’s face at the carnival burned in her mind. She shouldn’t have hit her, and now she couldn’t take it back.

Vriska’s eyes moved away from Kanaya’s face in the picture, settling next on Terezi.
Just a few weeks after senior prom, Vriska and Terezi would get into a fight that lasted the entire summer. That was, until the crash.

The crash was still a blur. Vriska doubted that the memory would ever be clear to her.
What was clear though was that she’d been on the phone with Terezi while she was driving. They were in a heated argument about something that must have been so, so stupid. They’d had so many fights over pointless things. They were yelling at each other, and Vriska hadn’t been paying enough attention to the road.
When she regained consciousness two weeks later her sister Aranea filled her in on the basic details: she’d been in a bad wreck, she’d crossed lanes into oncoming traffic; she almost lost her left arm, her left eye would never be the same. They were just facts, devoid of any feeling. Aranea had that way about her; she’d tell you just about anything, but she never really seemed connected to her words.

No one had even come to see her in the hospital. Kanaya didn’t care. Terezi didn’t care.
Aranea was only legally obligated to be there, given that their mother couldn’t be counted on to show up.

Vriska hadn’t seen or spoke to Kanaya or Terezi in five whole years.
She’d moved out, went to college and dropped out, and nearly recovered from the wreck since then.
Vriska wondered for a moment if they even knew. It wouldn’t change anything.

On some level she felt like she deserved it. She’d never been a good friend to either of them. To anyone, really. She had just wedged herself into people’s lives, too stubborn to let them go, too relentless to be ignored. Until she no longer could, she thought. And they threw her away.

Vriska stared at the picture hard. Was there any way to fix the mess she’d made?
Finally she broke, and a few silent tears rolled down her cheek.
She fumbled for her phone, the screen’s soft glow lighting up her dim bedroom.

How many times had she looked at that number?
Terezi’s number…
Vriska was in no shape for a phone call. She doubted she could speak at all.

Certainly, after four years, she couldn’t have the same number.
And even if she texted her, after all this time, Terezi couldn’t read it.

No consequences, Vriska thought.
She tapped the letters carefully, as if the action alone might give her some peace.

Terezi ?
I know there’s no way you’re going to read this.
8ut…
I just wanted to say |

Vriska paused a moment. What did she want to say?

I just wanted to say it’s a really fucked up thing to do, not speaking to your 8est friend for five whole years.

Oper8tion 8ee Fricker | Open to Nepeta (and Sollux?)

[straylines]

Nepeta
Nepeta Cataria Leijon
Nepetaaaaaaaa
Answer your text messages.

Vriska stood in front of her closet, looking for something all black that she didn't mind ruining with spray paint.

Cancel aaaaaaaall your plans tonight.
We're going 8ee hunting.


Tonight was the night Sollux Captor got his retribution.

^{[What? You expected me to say pun-ishment? 8ecause of the shoe store pun? FUCK YOUUUUUUUU.]}