Subreality: AA Meeting (1/1)
Feb. 10th, 2008 06:21 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
deathpixieDisclaimer: Subreality is a concept created by [Bad username or site: @ livejournal.com]. So is the Writer’s Café. Pinocchio and the other staff (except Mary Shiva) belong to their respective copy-writers, and I’m not making any profit out of their use. Mary Shiva belongs to [Bad username or site: @ livejournal.com].
If none of this makes any sense, get thee to Yasmin’s Writer’s Café page. The Writers don’t belong to me either. Some names have been changed to protect the er, innocent.
Rating: G, for general consumption.
Pinocchio, hard-nosed (literally) Bouncer of the Writer’s Café, sighed as he saw the figure slowly trudging up the street towards him.
“Not another one,” he grumbled under his breath, “When Little Boy Blue agreed ta this, I don’t think he knew what he was lettin’ us in for.”
By now the figure had slouched its way to the door. It was a Writer, but which one was hard to tell under the pall of gloom so thick it was visible.
“Is this- you know?” asked the Writer hesitantly. Pinocchio sighed again.
“Yeah, this is it. Go on in, the meetin’s already started.”
The shadow-enshrouded Writer slipped into the Café. Pinocchio shook his head after the departing shape and stepped back into his alcove. Behind where he’d been standing, a sign hung slightly askew on the door:
“Angsters Anonymous Inaugural Meeting. All Welcome.”
“Thanks to everyone for coming here tonight,” Seraph sniffled, her nose red and swollen and her eyes puffy. She dug into the pocket of her jeans for a tissue. “You’ll have to bear with me- I have the ‘flu. Anyway, welcome to the first meeting of Angsters Anonymous.” Seraph stopped to blow her nose loudly, and then continued. “There’s been a deluge of angst on the lists lately, and it became obvious that some people were not dealing with it healthily. So AA was created to provide support and help those afflicted with angst.” Unfortunately, Seraph’s speech was spoiled by the bone-shaking coughs that seized her as she finished.
“First of all, let’s hear some testimonies from the members,” she gasped when she could speak. No-one moved. Seraph scanned the circle of chairs, trying to pick a face amongst the obligatory shadows and small dark clouds hovering over heads, with an aim to ‘encouraging’ volunteers with hard stares. Finally, a lone hand was raised cautiously.
“Good, a volunteer!” said Seraph in a tone that said ‘five seconds more and I would have started the culling.’ “How about you stand up and tell us about your experiences?”
Looking like she would rather be having her fingernails pulled out slowly, the Writer stood.
“Um, hello. My name is-“ the Writer paused.
“You don’t have to give your real name. Make one up,” Seraph encouraged as brightly as she could through a violent sneezing fit.
“I can’t think of one!” stammered the unfortunate volunteer.
“It doesn’t matter which name you use, just get on with it!” hissed Seraph through the sneezes.
“But…”
“All right, I’ll pick one for you. Bob. How’s that?”
“But I’m not male,” whined ‘Bob’.
“Then pick your own bloody name! Humph, it’s bad enough I have to find homes for misplaced Muses, now I’m expected to be one myself…” Seraph’s voice trailed away into an incoherent grumble.
“Er, hello. My name is- Bob, and I have Angst.”
“Hello Bob,” everyone chorused, a little raggedly.
“Um. It started out pretty harmlessly. A down beat TCP when I was stuck for new chapters of my epic. A response to Alara’s Challenge of Death where I killed off my favourite character. A Jono story about him being a monster and no-one loving him. And then, I was hooked! Everything I wrote was dark and depressing!” ‘Bob’s’ voice rose. “I knew I had a problem when I wrote a story where Jubilee was horribly tortured by Bastion and ended up in a mental institution! All my stories were about characters whose lives were miserable. I just couldn’t stop!” ‘Bob’ sat down, shaking. Those near her gave her supportive pats and hugs.
“Well, um, thank you ‘Bob’” Seraph managed at last, “Anyone else?” Several hands went up this time. “Okay, how about you?” The chosen Writer stood up and glanced inquiringly at Seraph. The angel nodded (or she might have been sneezing again), and with a deep breath, the Writer began:
“Hi. My name is Ya-“ There was a pause as the Writer thought desperately for another name. “-Bob, and I’m an Angster.”
“Hello Bob,” everyone chorused again. They were getting the hang of this.
“I’m not normally an angster- in fact, I used to avoid it whenever I could. But then I wrote what was supposed to be a light-hearted romp through Subreality, and I was hijacked! Things got out of control, and before I knew it I’d killed of half of my characters, banished the others to the fictional netherworld, and crippled my Muse’s mentor!” ‘Bob’ looked around them wild-eyed. “And it didn’t stop there! I joined in this round-robin… Everyone’s old, Subreality’s dying and decayed, and the angst is just unbelievable! It’s such a rush! People are killing themselves off just to generate more angst for everyone else! I can’t keep away from it!”
“Yes, thank you ‘Bob’,” Seraph said crisply, cutting off the Writer before she got too excited. “We’re well aware of the influence this particular round-robin is having on the more vulnerable members of the community, namely yourselves and those like you.”
“Hang on, haven’t I seen you there too?” said an anonymous voice. Seraph blushed (or it might have been the fever) and tried to collect herself.
“Well, yes, I have been in that round-robin. But purely for research! In order to help those addicted to angst, I have to know the allure of it, and investigate the sources…”
“Yeah, right,” muttered another voice.
“How about another testimonial?” Seraph asked, hoping to divert attention away from this particular path. “Any one else want to share their experiences?”
“I will,” said the Writer who had challenged Seraph about her presence in the forbidden round-robin. She stood up. “Hello everyone, my name is Bob, and I Angst.”
“Hello, Bob,” everyone chorused dutifully. The Bob joke was getting old.
“I’ve been writing Angst for some time, but I thought I had it under control. You know, balance it with humour, don’t take it too seriously, counter it with the occasional silly-fic. But then I joined THAT round-robin, and things just spiralled out of control… All my stories were dark, but I knew I had a problem when I wrote a TCP about a school massacre.” ‘Bob’ shook her head sadly. “I didn’t want to do it, told myself it was too much, but it just hung around in my head, making me more and more depressed, until I wrote it down. And once it was written, it insisted on being posted.” ‘Bob’ buried her face in her hands and wailed: “I AM AN ANGST PUSHER!!”
There was a collective gasp of horror. Seraph stood.
“I think it’s time we finished for the night. But before we go, I’d like to have a group hug. Remember, a hug is angst’s natural enemy, and we all must help each other in AA. Even scum of the earth like Bob the pusher here. Everyone?” Reluctantly, the group stood and surrounded the still-sobbing ‘Bob’.
“And one, and two and HUG!!” Seraph chanted. As one, everyone came forward and hugged. Incredibly, the shadows and thunderclouds lifted, revealing shaken Writers who nonetheless looked happier.
“You see?” Seraph said, smiling widely. “It’s easy when you have help. So off you go, and remember- angst is good for dramatic tension, but we all need a little silliness now and then. If it gets bad, I recommend some of Northlight’s or Sascha’s silly fics. See you next month!”
The End.
Credits:
[Bad username or site: @ livejournal.com] belongs to herself, and isn’t normally so grumpy, but she does have the ‘flu. Wish her well, everyone!
The reference to finding homes for Muses comes from Operation: Ultimate Writer round robin, via CFAN. You’ll find THAT RR (Subreality 2022) on the Subreality page, under the Round Robin section.
Alara’s Challenge of Death can be found on indigosky.net
The ‘light-hearted romp through Subreality’ that went wrong is Yasmin’s ([Bad username or site: @ livejournal.com]) “Is That A Mutant In Your Pocket Or Are You Just Glad To See Me?”
The TCP about the school massacre is “Heroes”, and will appear sometimes soon on this LJ.
Northlight’s and Sascha’s silly fics can be found at Ficworld.
If none of this makes any sense, get thee to Yasmin’s Writer’s Café page. The Writers don’t belong to me either. Some names have been changed to protect the er, innocent.
Rating: G, for general consumption.
Pinocchio, hard-nosed (literally) Bouncer of the Writer’s Café, sighed as he saw the figure slowly trudging up the street towards him.
“Not another one,” he grumbled under his breath, “When Little Boy Blue agreed ta this, I don’t think he knew what he was lettin’ us in for.”
By now the figure had slouched its way to the door. It was a Writer, but which one was hard to tell under the pall of gloom so thick it was visible.
“Is this- you know?” asked the Writer hesitantly. Pinocchio sighed again.
“Yeah, this is it. Go on in, the meetin’s already started.”
The shadow-enshrouded Writer slipped into the Café. Pinocchio shook his head after the departing shape and stepped back into his alcove. Behind where he’d been standing, a sign hung slightly askew on the door:
“Angsters Anonymous Inaugural Meeting. All Welcome.”
“Thanks to everyone for coming here tonight,” Seraph sniffled, her nose red and swollen and her eyes puffy. She dug into the pocket of her jeans for a tissue. “You’ll have to bear with me- I have the ‘flu. Anyway, welcome to the first meeting of Angsters Anonymous.” Seraph stopped to blow her nose loudly, and then continued. “There’s been a deluge of angst on the lists lately, and it became obvious that some people were not dealing with it healthily. So AA was created to provide support and help those afflicted with angst.” Unfortunately, Seraph’s speech was spoiled by the bone-shaking coughs that seized her as she finished.
“First of all, let’s hear some testimonies from the members,” she gasped when she could speak. No-one moved. Seraph scanned the circle of chairs, trying to pick a face amongst the obligatory shadows and small dark clouds hovering over heads, with an aim to ‘encouraging’ volunteers with hard stares. Finally, a lone hand was raised cautiously.
“Good, a volunteer!” said Seraph in a tone that said ‘five seconds more and I would have started the culling.’ “How about you stand up and tell us about your experiences?”
Looking like she would rather be having her fingernails pulled out slowly, the Writer stood.
“Um, hello. My name is-“ the Writer paused.
“You don’t have to give your real name. Make one up,” Seraph encouraged as brightly as she could through a violent sneezing fit.
“I can’t think of one!” stammered the unfortunate volunteer.
“It doesn’t matter which name you use, just get on with it!” hissed Seraph through the sneezes.
“But…”
“All right, I’ll pick one for you. Bob. How’s that?”
“But I’m not male,” whined ‘Bob’.
“Then pick your own bloody name! Humph, it’s bad enough I have to find homes for misplaced Muses, now I’m expected to be one myself…” Seraph’s voice trailed away into an incoherent grumble.
“Er, hello. My name is- Bob, and I have Angst.”
“Hello Bob,” everyone chorused, a little raggedly.
“Um. It started out pretty harmlessly. A down beat TCP when I was stuck for new chapters of my epic. A response to Alara’s Challenge of Death where I killed off my favourite character. A Jono story about him being a monster and no-one loving him. And then, I was hooked! Everything I wrote was dark and depressing!” ‘Bob’s’ voice rose. “I knew I had a problem when I wrote a story where Jubilee was horribly tortured by Bastion and ended up in a mental institution! All my stories were about characters whose lives were miserable. I just couldn’t stop!” ‘Bob’ sat down, shaking. Those near her gave her supportive pats and hugs.
“Well, um, thank you ‘Bob’” Seraph managed at last, “Anyone else?” Several hands went up this time. “Okay, how about you?” The chosen Writer stood up and glanced inquiringly at Seraph. The angel nodded (or she might have been sneezing again), and with a deep breath, the Writer began:
“Hi. My name is Ya-“ There was a pause as the Writer thought desperately for another name. “-Bob, and I’m an Angster.”
“Hello Bob,” everyone chorused again. They were getting the hang of this.
“I’m not normally an angster- in fact, I used to avoid it whenever I could. But then I wrote what was supposed to be a light-hearted romp through Subreality, and I was hijacked! Things got out of control, and before I knew it I’d killed of half of my characters, banished the others to the fictional netherworld, and crippled my Muse’s mentor!” ‘Bob’ looked around them wild-eyed. “And it didn’t stop there! I joined in this round-robin… Everyone’s old, Subreality’s dying and decayed, and the angst is just unbelievable! It’s such a rush! People are killing themselves off just to generate more angst for everyone else! I can’t keep away from it!”
“Yes, thank you ‘Bob’,” Seraph said crisply, cutting off the Writer before she got too excited. “We’re well aware of the influence this particular round-robin is having on the more vulnerable members of the community, namely yourselves and those like you.”
“Hang on, haven’t I seen you there too?” said an anonymous voice. Seraph blushed (or it might have been the fever) and tried to collect herself.
“Well, yes, I have been in that round-robin. But purely for research! In order to help those addicted to angst, I have to know the allure of it, and investigate the sources…”
“Yeah, right,” muttered another voice.
“How about another testimonial?” Seraph asked, hoping to divert attention away from this particular path. “Any one else want to share their experiences?”
“I will,” said the Writer who had challenged Seraph about her presence in the forbidden round-robin. She stood up. “Hello everyone, my name is Bob, and I Angst.”
“Hello, Bob,” everyone chorused dutifully. The Bob joke was getting old.
“I’ve been writing Angst for some time, but I thought I had it under control. You know, balance it with humour, don’t take it too seriously, counter it with the occasional silly-fic. But then I joined THAT round-robin, and things just spiralled out of control… All my stories were dark, but I knew I had a problem when I wrote a TCP about a school massacre.” ‘Bob’ shook her head sadly. “I didn’t want to do it, told myself it was too much, but it just hung around in my head, making me more and more depressed, until I wrote it down. And once it was written, it insisted on being posted.” ‘Bob’ buried her face in her hands and wailed: “I AM AN ANGST PUSHER!!”
There was a collective gasp of horror. Seraph stood.
“I think it’s time we finished for the night. But before we go, I’d like to have a group hug. Remember, a hug is angst’s natural enemy, and we all must help each other in AA. Even scum of the earth like Bob the pusher here. Everyone?” Reluctantly, the group stood and surrounded the still-sobbing ‘Bob’.
“And one, and two and HUG!!” Seraph chanted. As one, everyone came forward and hugged. Incredibly, the shadows and thunderclouds lifted, revealing shaken Writers who nonetheless looked happier.
“You see?” Seraph said, smiling widely. “It’s easy when you have help. So off you go, and remember- angst is good for dramatic tension, but we all need a little silliness now and then. If it gets bad, I recommend some of Northlight’s or Sascha’s silly fics. See you next month!”
The End.
Credits:
[Bad username or site: @ livejournal.com] belongs to herself, and isn’t normally so grumpy, but she does have the ‘flu. Wish her well, everyone!
The reference to finding homes for Muses comes from Operation: Ultimate Writer round robin, via CFAN. You’ll find THAT RR (Subreality 2022) on the Subreality page, under the Round Robin section.
Alara’s Challenge of Death can be found on indigosky.net
The ‘light-hearted romp through Subreality’ that went wrong is Yasmin’s ([Bad username or site: @ livejournal.com]) “Is That A Mutant In Your Pocket Or Are You Just Glad To See Me?”
The TCP about the school massacre is “Heroes”, and will appear sometimes soon on this LJ.
Northlight’s and Sascha’s silly fics can be found at Ficworld.
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