Author Topic: THE SKY IS FULL OF CORAL REEFS —✦ writing, dnp  (Read 130 times)

Offline Hootowls

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« on: July 23, 2019, 11:05:09 PM »
Hi my name is Hoot this is my writing storage please do not post or I'll be v >:^|

A lot of my writing is rlly bad but I need a place to keep it all so here merry Christmas nerds

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« Last Edit: August 05, 2019, 08:41:23 PM by Hootowls »
hootowls ( /ho͞ot-ouls/ )
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Offline Hootowls

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« Reply #1 on: July 23, 2019, 11:05:41 PM »
STOOD UP — 1235 words

this turned out like a shitty and stupidity cheesy Wattpad romance fic and I...idk what else to say other than I’m so sorry please don’t read this if you wanna live and hold onto what little respect you have for me @van

Brendan has never been the romantic kind of person.

The most amount of romance he’s seen in the fifteen years he’s lived on earth was his dad kissing his mom goodbye, or the relationship between Shrek and Fiona. Other than that, though? Love has never interested him, and chances are, it never will; it’s temporary, basically. Pointless. He’s young, he doesn’t have to waste his time on stupid crap like worrying whether or not a girl likes him back. And yeah, sure, in the animated movies love always ends in happily ever after...

...but real life is nothing like those movies.

Heck, Brendan can plainly see with his naked eye the degrading relationship between his mother and father, how they stopped kissing each other goodbye and stopped asking one another how their day went. Now it’s just business, business, business. Money, money, money. Despite the fact that once their relationship seemed perfect, that it was the way it always should be, it became meaningless in the end.

It’s strange, how that works. Brendan could’ve sworn that his parents loved each other back then, that they were head-over-heels. Blushing as red as a tomato while Casual flirts at the dinner table are thrown, having date nights to themselves while Brendan either hangs out with the neighbor or spends the night by himself. Cute little things, such as holding one another’s hand or resting heads onto shoulders like fluffy, pink pillows. Fawning over Brendan’s growing taekwondo achievements, his new vibrant yellow belt. playfully comparing his achievements to each other as if it’s a competition when, in reality, they’re both his parents.

But one day it stopped, and suddenly their love faded. What happened to it, he has zero clue, but it’s not as evident anymore. No more excitement in taekwondo, or his prospering skills in the track team. When he got his black belt, they merely patted his shoulder and drove him home. They don’t have their dates anymore; at this point work is their date. The dinner table is quiet—painfully quiet. The color in their relationship has faded, and now it’s just a dull mass of black and whites.

After experiencing all of that, maybe he should’ve seen this coming.

Hand ruffling his hair aimlessly, Brendan sighs, shoulders sagging as he rests his cheek onto the palm of his hand. Drips of Gray rain splatter against the window, the sky darkening when the clouds start to roll in and the hidden sun lowers itself even more. Sympathetic glances keep getting thrown his way, but he blocks them out, tugging on his hoodie. He has never been one for sympathy, for feeling all down in the dumps, but now he can’t help but feel horribly alone.

why didn’t she show up?

He has the money he meant to pay with, sitting right in his pocket. He specifically asked for the window seat, because who wouldn’t want that? But Karis didn’t show up, and it’s been over an hour now. No responses to his texts, nothing.

did I pick a bad place?

Fast food restaurants have never been Brendan’s preferred...thing, but Karis did mention how she absolutely loves the milkshakes here. The salads are okay, too; Brendan was planning on getting one of those, once she walks in. He hasn’t ordered anything yet, it would’ve been rude.

maybe i went to the wrong one?

They both agreed on a time and place, even checking to make sure they’re talking about the right one. But...well, there’s a lot of fast food restaurants here—he wouldn’t be surprised if the directions got messed up. Heck, it’s not like he comes here a lot, anyways; the last time was probably when he was around five or so.

Exhaling sharply, Brendan lifts himself up from his hand and straightens his posture, pulling out his black phone to check the time. Six o’clock. His parents are probably home by now; if he’s fast enough, he can probably convince them to make dinner tonight. He’d have to explain the situation, how he just got stood up and all, but hopefully they’ll understand. Kicking the black-and-white tiled floor with the heel of his shoe, he stuffs his phone away. However, before he can book it out of here, the door opens.

At first, he thinks it’s her. But as he whips his head around, eyes wide and a little too eager, he visibly droops, frown tugging on his lips. Amity, not karis. Someone has seen in the hallways, shares one or two classes with, but they’ve never really made it past barely friends. Yet when her eyes meet his, he immediately shoves himself to face the opposite direction, face blushing a bit of a bright red. For a while, there’s silence, until a girl in a blue dress with brown boots plops down in the chair right across from him. Amity dresses similarly to A modern version of Dorothy from the wizard of oz, almost; strange, but colorful.

"Hey?" Brendan flinches a little, avoiding all eye contact as he rests his head against the table. "Why are you here?"

Yeah, he guesses it can come across as weird that the kid that’s becoming known for being a diehard student athlete is at a fricken fast food place, but what should he say? He can’t just admit that he was...well, pretty much dumped; It’s none of her business. In fact, she sat down without asking. Should he tell her to leave?

The silence stretches on for even longer, at least a minute, until: "Do you need some food? I have money—"

—Shooting upwards, Brendan shakes his head. "no, I’m fine!" he hesitates at her suddenly bewildered stare, his mouth fumbling together for the right words. "don’t worry, I—I’m not hungry."

"avoiding the rain?" Brendan sheepishly nods, and Amity glances outside. "it’s gone now."

He hasn’t even noticed that the rain was gone until now. The sun breaks through the dark clouds, casting light into the restaurant that hits her golden flower eyes just right. Shrinking underneath his own skin, Brendan sinks back in his chair a little, ripping his blue-Gray hues away from her and towards the window. The world always looks so pretty when the sun comes after the rain, especially during the evening; this time is especially no exception. The red and gold rays of light are shining their brightest, making up for the gloom atmosphere that has drowned the world earlier.

Well, that’s that then; he should probably head home. Especially with the taekwondo tournament tomorrow, he needs to get as much sleep as he can manage. With a soft sigh, Brendan brings himself to his feet, fixing his hoodie and rolling up his sleeves a bit.

"you’re leaving?" Amity asks, tilting her head to one side. "have you even eaten?"

Brendan closes his eyes, inhales, before opening them again. "I gotta go, I have stuff to do tomorrow."

"oh." slowly, Amity flicks a piece of hair off of her shoulder and behind her, the light from outside catching onto it for a split second. "well, maybe we can meet up here some other time? When you’re not busy?"

Brendan blinks, frown sinking a bit as his eyebrows quirk upward. He looks around, back at Amity, then down to his red sneakers. A tiny blush forms on his lips as he mutters a feeble and weak, "sure."

"cool, see you Monday?"

"yeah, see you."

tbh the part abt his parents being good is actually 10/10 ooc since they were boring ass bitches from the start but,,, listen. this entire thing is not canon I bet sooo who gives a shit? not me. anyways sorry thank you for reading this if you did, I hate it lol
« Last Edit: August 05, 2019, 08:42:32 PM by Hootowls »
hootowls ( /ho͞ot-ouls/ )
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Offline Hootowls

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« Reply #2 on: July 23, 2019, 11:28:09 PM »
CRIME SCENE — 878 words

I actually originally wrote this on August 11, 2017. However, believe it or not I'm,,, still pretty proud of how it turned out? I edited this a bit, namely changing the name of the #victim, but other than that it's the same. Kinda sad I never finished this.

tw for detailed descriptions of blood, death, murder, police officers.

Never before had he seen something like this. The world was as silent as a clanging bell as the metallic and dank reek of bleed wafted through the crisp morning air menacingly, daring him to examine what laid ahead in the alleyway. It was a murder scene, to say the obvious—a gruesome one at that. Blood was everyone: the walls, the ground.. The blood was caked in the hair of the victim, clinging tightly as if it wouldn't dare to leave the body it once resided in. The blood soaked into the clothing, frantically taking measures to find ways to re-enter the pale figure. The blood was draining into the drain pipe a few inches away, quickly and abruptly almost as if it were desperate to flee the scene of the crime. There was so much, it seemed almost unreal that such a large amount of spillage come from such a petite, young frame. And yet it did.

Bending down, the police officer released an exasperated sigh, his eyelids drooping with exhaustion while he examined the feminine hand of the victim. It was cold, and limp. How could such an unnerving hand once be part of a living body? It seemed almost impossible. fake. it had to be an allusion, but it wasn't, and he very well knew that...but he didn't want to know that. Standing straight and taking a few steps back, he gave himself time to process the situation, his eyebrows furrowed with strict concentration. The source of the blood was still unknown—he needed to figure that out. It wouldn't take a mere glance to decipher that, however; the blood managed to darken the hoodie the victim happened to be wearing. Even then, he would've guessed that the wound was near the neck, abdomen, or wherever else a fatal spot would be. Those were always where the murderer aimed.

It felt wrong to touch the hoodie, it felt wrong to pry it upward, it felt wrong to stare down at the open flesh wound on the stomach of the victim. She had been stabbed with a large knife, or perhaps the murderer toyed with her before drawing the knife back to them, just for fun. Either way, the wound was large and gaping open akin to perhaps a mouth, giving room for the dying internal organs to breathe true air for the first time, albeit this wasn't the most tasteful air to experience. Dropping the dripping cloth, he chose to stand there, blue-gray hues slowly traversing toward the face of the victim. She seemed to be in peace, as if she accepted her fate without hesitation. It wasn't right. Piper wouldn't have wanted this; she had always told him that she'd never leave his side. yet she did. and here she was, lying in a pool of her own blood.

Rubbing his hand against his temples, Brendan paused, taking a moment to let everything that had happened sink in. Normally, Piper would have gone downtown to work, working on the typical biomedical engineer routine she always ranted on about so happily. Normally, she would perhaps grab a coffee and maybe a donut, sit near the entrance to the building she was employed at, and watch the spring clouds waft through the baby blue sky without a care in the world. Normally, she would be greeted by her boyfriend during his short and sometimes nonexistent lunch break, only for him to skedaddle and claim that he had "bad guys to catch." It seemed that none of those would be happening today, or the next, or the one after that, or ever again. She was dead, and he knew that.

Turning his cranium, he blankly stared ahead at the empty street behind him, his cruiser parked carefully along the edge of the road and near the sidewalk. He had called for backup earlier, but it seemed as if they were taking their time. That, or time itself was taking its time, and everything was going by slowly. He wasn't quite sure. It didn't take long, however, for the wailing cry of the sirens to sound through the air, cutting through the silence with a sharp knife. One, two, three police cars approached the scene; one, two, three police officers rushed out and make a mad dash for the alleyway. It was only when Brendan stepped back did everything come to him: Piper was killed, for her money or simply for fun he wasn't sure, but she was killed. She was gone, forever and ever and ever. He would never see her smile again, watch her play with her swampert, cuddle with her on chilly winter nights, kiss her on the cheek.. None of that would he ever experience again.

With tightly clenched fists, he turned his vision elsewhere as the folk belonging to the ambulance scrambled quickly to carry the corpse away on a once white, but now red stretcher. As the sounds of the ambulance died away, leaving an ever-present silence once more, he grimaced when a police officer or two murmured small condolences, although they sounded force, as if they weren't sure what to say, but they had to say something. But they really didn't; it would have been better if they kept their mouth shut.
« Last Edit: August 16, 2019, 08:35:00 AM by Hootowls »
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Offline Hootowls

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« Reply #3 on: August 16, 2019, 09:13:10 AM »
WEIGHT OF US — 1713 words

The world is ending. Brendan plans to stop it, but an intervention gets in his way.

Pokémon Emerald fanfic, hoennshipping.

The torrential downpour swallowing Hoenn whole can be described as anything but calming, contrary to what the news reporters have been telling everyone on the TV for the past ten minutes. Pacing back and forth through her living room, May stares wide-eyed at the television, her fingers fidgeting with one another rapidly; her swampert—Mud-Bud—simply snorts, his paw raking and smacking against the back door while he glares at his trainer.

“Mud-Bud, you’re not going outside in this weather!” May scolds, but her eyes don’t even dare to rip away from the bright screen.

Funnily enough, as she says that, the hurricane-like rain flamboyantly flashes into harsh sunlight, Immediately, Mud-Bud backs away from the glass with a hiss escaping his lips.

“As of now, it is unsure what’s being done to stop Kyogre and Groudon’s wrath,” the news reporter states, wiping away what appears to be sweat from his forehead. “Just...please, remain calm.” May rolls her eyes. “Also—Elite Four officials are reaching out for Steven Stone, who—” instantly, the screen transitions to an admittedly stunning male specimen in a tux—“appears to be discussing matters with a boy.”

With a gasp, May trips to a halt, stumbling over her own feet. Rushing over towards the screen, her palms pressing against it, she gapes at the oh-so familiar frowning kid on the screen.


“It seems that our champion has chosen this child to head towards the Sky Pillar—“


“—yes, Steven is sending a child to Sky Pillar...for some reason.” The news reporter touches his hand to his ear, pausing for a split moment before adding: “Oh! This kid is apparently the son of Norman, leader of the Petalburg Gym, and it seems that Steven and Wallace both have chosen him for awakening Rayquaza—“


In an instant, the television turns to black, and like a mini earthquake, the world trembles in fear as thunder roars. Shoulders drooping along with a jaw hanging open, May can’t even bring herself to flinch when bullets of water punch at her roof from above. Brendan: the most wimpy kid she’s ever known, that one kid who can’t even bring himself to surf on Mud-Bud’s back...why him?! Mr. Steven Stone must have beedrills in his brains if he thinks Brendan can even get to Sky Pillar in one piece!

“Mud-Bud, we’re going outside!”


Hopping off of her swampert and onto the beach of Sky Pillar, May squeaks as she slips on the muddy sand beneath her feet and collapses onto her chest; as if Groudon suddenly decided that she really needs to suffer, the rain evaporates into nothing but a scorching heat wave, forcing the sand beneath May to burn into her skin. Growling a few...naughty words, the trainer scrambles to her feet, returning the giggling Mud-Bud back into his pokéball. While she swipes the sand off of her muddy clothes—and therefore scowling when she only spreads the mud around—May doesn’t notice the figure approaching her.


May jolts her eyes upwards. Ahead of her stands Brendan, whose clothes are in an even worse condition from the mixture of mud and sand. (Mango—Brendan’s blaziken—stands behind him, holding an umbrella to cover his feathered frame.)

The frown on his lips tightening, Brendan furrows his eyebrows. “May, what are you doing here?”

“I have the same question for you!” May booms, fists clenching together. Brendan flinches at the sudden volume. “What were you even thinking?!”

“L-look,” Brendan stammers, bunching his shoulders together. His voice is soft, and almost——trembling, in a way. May can’t tell if he’s worried about pissing her off more, or just being himself. “I-I...I can explain—“

“You don’t have to—I’m taking you home, right now!”

Forcing her hand around the boy’s wrist, May starts to drag him away; she can hear Mango cawing and snarling behind her, but May only grits her teeth. She has a swampert, she can totally handle any over-cooked chicken—

Hey!” May cries out, glowering back at Brendan as he rips himself away from her. “Get back here!”

Charging towards him, May tries to slam the punk to the ground, but narrowly misses as he hops out of the way. Snarling and spitting, May spins and rams into his chest, fingers scratching at his shirt. Brendan winces at first, but holds his ground, his hands hovering over May’s back as he possibly tries to calculate on what to do, or what to say.

“May, what are you doing?” Brendan gingerly mumbles, his voice somehow remaining calm as May begins to punch at his chest.

The punches are light——well, “light” until May actually tightens her fists and scores a good one on the dead center of Brendan’s chest. Coughing, Brendan wraps his hands around May’s as Mango begins to stomp forwards.

“M-May? (Please, Mango, it’s fine...)”

The subdued voice irritates May, as if Brendan can’t comprehend what’s even happening right now. God, does anything ever affect him? Or is he just that...that stupid?!

“What do you mean what am I doing?!” May roars, her fiery stare meeting Brendan’s ginger gaze. His worried expression morphs into a bit of a fright, but he doesn’t budge a single inch. “Seriously, what’s wrong with you?! You’re gonna...kill yourself doing this, Brendan!”

Thunder roars from the heavens, and soon enough a flood of rain comes tumbling down, washing away the heat. Whimpering, May buries her head into her friend’s chest, gritting her teeth. At first, she feels the chilling rain splash down her cheek, but then lukewarm water follows after it. Shoulders shuddering, she gasps for more breath.

“You can die going up there,” she chokes out, flinching as waterfalls of tears roll off of her cheek.

Like a movie screen, May’s brain begins to play those happy moments of her and Brendan. The dorky mudkip and sweet torchic’s first battle, camping under the stars, telling ghost stories that scared the crap out of Brendan...if he storms up to Rayquaza face-to-face, will all of those go to waste? All those happy memories, those days May never wants to forget, won’t all of those be meaningless should he choose to go? She...she doesn’t want that.

“I don’t want you to die! Please, just don’t go...”

Slamming her eyes shut with a gasp, May waits for something, anything from Brendan...but he doesn’t move, not even a muscle. They just stand there, in silence, the heavy downpour roaring along with the cry of Kyogre from afar. It’s coming, isn’t it...? But finally, after what feels like an eternity, Brendan exhales slowly.

“If I don’t do this,” he mumbles, carefully letting go of May’s hands, “You will die——Hoenn will die.”

May grits her teeth. Of course he’s so selfless. Brendan’s always been like that, ever since day one when he let himself lose their first pokémon battle because he didn’t want the little Mango to get too hurt. Not to mention those times when Brendan defended her, those times when he gave her extra money since she lost a battle, those times when he got her pokédolls whenever she felt sad. Or...all those times when he took on stupid Team Magma or Team Aqua all by himself because he didn’t want May to, even when he completely knew that he’s just a kid, he couldn’t be victorious.

All those times, May never thought about the toll it took on Brendan. She instantly visualizes seeing him frowning at the end of it all, bruised up and bitter, silently thrilled that—despite his injuries and somber pokémon team—his friend is happy and safe now. And God forbid that she ever thought that one day, she’d be nearing Brendan’s own funeral because he felt the need to do something as severe as waking up a short-tempered dragon.

“Can’t Steven just pick someone else?!” Pulling away from Brendan, May shoves her hand across her eyes, avoiding eye contact. “This is all Aqua and Magma’s fault, can’t he make them do it?” Brendan shifts around a bit. “You’re a kid, Brendan; barely twelve years old, you have done so much already, and—a-and—“

She stumbles over her words, trembling as more tears leak off of the bottom rim of her eyes. This time, Brendan doesn’t respond; he only stands there, defeated, as he helplessly watches his friend choke on her own tears. Dragging her hues up at Brendan’s, May hesitates, noticing the terrified expression on Brendan. He’s cowering almost, shrinking underneath his own skin, and to top it off, his eyes are growing glossier and glossier by the second.

Oh no.


“May, of course I’m terrified,” he whispers, his voice barely audible above the rain, “but please, let me do this for you, for our parents, for Hoenn—“

“I won’t let you do this alone!” May interrupts, taking a step forward.

She’s tired of this, tired of it all. Over the past few years she has taken Brendan’s selflessness—his idiotic generosity—for granted, and of course she only realizes it now, when he’s willing to risk his own life for everyone! Shoving her hand into open air, May puts on a determined glare.

“If you’re going up there, then please Brendan, let’s at least do it together!”

Brendan flinches at the offer, stepping back as he gapes at May’s hand. He looks as if he can spill out a thousand words of why she shouldn’t come, why it’s too dangerous for her, why it’s his responsibility...but instead, he remains as silent as a statue. For a second, Brendan opens his mouth, eyebrows furrowing a little, but then stops; slowly but surely, he inches forward, gingerly wrapping his hand around hers. His grip is loose, but at the same time...comforting, almost.

He breathes in, closing his eyes before releasing a meek “okay.”

As the two head towards the entrance of Sky Pillar, May can’t help but smile a little as she squeezes Brendan’s hand. Sure, the world’s ending, but...the world around them somehow seems more approachable, as if the burdening weight of awakening Rayquaza and the godly weather surrounding them is more manageable with two instead of just one. And, well...May wouldn’t dare to tell Brendan this, but maybe it’s meant to be that way.

They’re meant to do things together, and the chance of seeing Brendan smile at the end of all of this would be so worth it.

I have no shame. I wrote this a year or so ago but I felt like posting it here after editing it up a bit. Tbh I think it’s p cute and all, despite the cheesiness.
hootowls ( /ho͞ot-ouls/ )
1.) owl city is love
2.) open to pms/questions