Aw darn. Good thing for me there's translations out there. Side note: now incorporating 'bat shittery' into my everyday vocabulary
- Last Seen: 8 yrs ago
- Old Guild Username: AuntFlavia
- Joined: 11 yrs ago
- Posts: 881 (0.22 / day)
- VMs: 1
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Username history
- AuntFlavia 11 yrs ago
Status
Recent Statuses
8 yrs ago
Current
Stranger Things is soooo goooood
4
likes
9 yrs ago
Mondays and Wednesdays get a bad rep. It's actually Tuesday that is the worst weekday.
2
likes
9 yrs ago
Writing down an idea you're not happy with is the hardest thing, but you just gotta do it, because then it builds up and improves and the floodgates open.
2
likes
9 yrs ago
Man, I hate spring a whoooole lot.
9 yrs ago
Ever hypnotize yourself with your own avatar? IT'S HAPPENING TO ME RIGHT NOW
Bio
Personal:
Female, 24. I live in the tundra. If I list my interests, I'll break the character limit.
Writing/RPing:
I prefer realistic settings, but I can be pliable. Not big on Fandom RPs unless it's one I'm really into. No anime either. I'm kinda picky in general. RPing is pretty much the only way I can write. I can't think up plots, so I wouldn't make a good GM I think. Maybe in the future. For me writing is like doodling; it's a creative release, but I'm not an artist. I'm not great at writing romance either, and I refuse to write sex scenes with any more detail than 'tastefully fade to black'.
Availability:
I work full time, but I should still have time for RPing. Illness doesn't stop me, and if I can't get a post up I will say so in the OOC. Thursdays are out.
Roleplays I'm currently in
Wink Murder
Wolf Manor
Old Guild
Silent Hill RPG
Hüeller Morgann
Female, 24. I live in the tundra. If I list my interests, I'll break the character limit.
Writing/RPing:
I prefer realistic settings, but I can be pliable. Not big on Fandom RPs unless it's one I'm really into. No anime either. I'm kinda picky in general. RPing is pretty much the only way I can write. I can't think up plots, so I wouldn't make a good GM I think. Maybe in the future. For me writing is like doodling; it's a creative release, but I'm not an artist. I'm not great at writing romance either, and I refuse to write sex scenes with any more detail than 'tastefully fade to black'.
Availability:
I work full time, but I should still have time for RPing. Illness doesn't stop me, and if I can't get a post up I will say so in the OOC. Thursdays are out.
Roleplays I'm currently in
Wink Murder
Wolf Manor
Old Guild
Silent Hill RPG
Hüeller Morgann
Most Recent Posts
1) I speak French and German (and Dutch).
I wish I could speak German, considering that my Dad's side of the family is German. Embarrassingly, the only real encounters I've had with the language was with Dad constantly playing PDQ Bach's Blaues Gras when I was a kid. Us being both musicians and complete dorks, it's hilarious to us. I can only imagine how 'what in the fuck' it sounds to anyone who actually understands German. Or anyone who doesn't for that matter. :x
hankerhankerhankerhankerhanker
(working on my post, btw)
If Jonas talks like this then I'm pretty sure he's not getting killed any time soon, just because it amuses me.
Hah, that's awesome, though since he's a dude it'd probably sound more like this, only slightly less hilarious. It's a little funny talking to people who haven't really heard the accent that much. Around here pretty much everyone can pull a Minnesotan accent out of their back pockets. Regional accents interest me, not sure why. I have no idea what my accent would sound like, probably more Canadian than anything.
I'm for a little character interaction, but not so much that it stops the plot in its tracks of course.
Marco!
I haven't seen HIMYM, but Viking yokel sounds about right. If you've ever seen Fargo, then you've got it.
Okay, I'll kill Jonas now then? >:D
Nuuuuuuuuu! I love writing in tht accent, please don't squish him yet! :P
Done. My brain is now a raisin, dehydrated of all creative juices. *collapses*
May 25th, morning...
Jonas Landvick woke up gradually, blinking away the morning sun while entwined in his rumpled but empty bedsheets. He stretched his tired limbs, groaning, just thankful that there was some room on the bed to unfold. The soft sounds of the politely turned down kitchen radio drifted through the crack in his bedroom door, some gentle encouragement to wake up. That and there was something else, much more interesting than the radio. Something that smelled darn good.
“Okay, okay. I'm up.” Jonas mumbled into the pillow before rolling off the bed and pulling on a blue bathrobe that he'd left on the floor. He stood up and shuffled out of the dimly lit bedroom and into the hallway, gravity cruelly reminding him of just how exhausted he was. As Jonas entered the kitchen he saw with some interest that it was empty. A note on the table caught his eye, as did the oven light. He picked it up and read it, the coolness of the kitchen floor creeping through his bare feet.
Sorry, had to run early.
Made you some breakfast. It's keeping warm in the oven.
Jonas grinned, putting the paper aside and grabbing an oven mitt. So that's what smelled so good. To his growling stomach's delight, he pulled out a breakfast omelette from the oven and slid it onto a plate. The day just seemed perfect to Jonas. He slept in, had a relaxing day planned, and was just about to eat nice warm breakfast, when his cell phone suddenly rang from its place on the counter top. Seeing the caller, Jonas sighed. “Shoot.” Picking it up, he adopted a friendlier though less sincere tone of voice. “Mornin' Mom.”
“Jonas, I need you to pick some things up for me.” Straight to business. Pretty much what he expected.
“So, how are you? I'm fine, by the way.” Jonas retorted, his words drenched in sarcasm.
His mother clicked her tongue from the other end of the phone dismissively. He always hated that sound. It was her main mode of communication. “Don't pretend like you actually want to know how I am. I need you to get some groceries.”
“When?”
“By noon. I'm making lunch for Ellen and Barb.”
“Nope. Can't do it.” Jonas said, very much relieved that he had made other plans.
“Why not?” She asked, irritated. The sound of her voice pitching higher seemed to send 'hang up the phone' commands to Jonas' mind.
“I promised Amanda that I'd take her fishin'. We both took offa work.” Jonas turned the oven off as he spoke and headed to his room again to try and find slippers.
“Why...” She sighed at him. “...for pete's sake, why would you take her fishing of all things?”
Jonas started crawling around on the floor, searching under the bed and dressers for his slippers. “Because she asked me, yah know? We happen to have fun fishin' together. We don't need to talk, we can just...” He stood up again, the strain from the activity creeping into his voice. “...sit. And enjoy the peace 'n all.”
“What on earth are you doing?”
“Looking for slippers. Gonna go get the mail.”
“You don't have slippers. You've never had slippers.” She observed, as if she actually knew.
Tired of this conversation that was going nowhere, Jonas decided to try and get her to hang up for once. “Who said they were my slippers? Maybe someone left them here.”
“Ugh. Well, if you don't care enough to help me then I'll find someone who does.” Click. The silence that followed was wonderful.
Giving up on his search for quick footwear, Jonas dropped his phone unceremoniously on the bed and headed for the front door, bare feet and all. He had intended to head out to the mailbox and get the mail, but when he stepped into the living room, something stopped him. Something sitting in his entryway.
A briefcase.
Jonas stared at it for some time, wondering. Quickly, he ran back to his bedroom, grabbed his phone and fired off a text as he returned to the case. Just as quickly he got a reply back.
Did you leave a briefcase here?
no didn't bring one
Jonas stood in silence, watching the brief case carefully. The front door was locked, he knew that. It was always locked. It wasn't a big house. If someone had broken in, he would've heard them. For a moment he considered asking the neighbors if they'd seen anything, but shot the idea down quickly. His neighbors gossiped enough about him already.
He approached the case slowly, as if it would explode at any second. Jonas reached out a hand, but just as he was about to touch the handle, his phone vibrated with another text in his left hand, startling him.
everything okay J?
Yeah I'm fine. Thanks for breakfast. <3
When he was finished sending the text, Jonas speedily grabbed the briefcase and flung it open out of some mad rush of curiosity and anxiety. As he did so, the money inside was slightly disheveled as it met his eyes. All five thousand dollars of it. He also saw his passport, an envelope, and...a party popper?
“Holy smokes...”
Not knowing what else to do, he picked up the noise maker and pulled the string, sending a loud pop! and a cloud of confetti flying through the air. Almost afraid to touch the money, Jonas picked up the envelope instead and read the contents. Then, he read them again. And again. Each time he read it, it seemed less and less believable. He stood up and looked out the window, checking to make sure that whoever left this wasn't outside. Then he went back to reading the letter over and over again. The omelette sat on the table, uneaten, for the rest of the morning.
Later that day...
Jonas was still staring, only this time he was staring at the water. It was so still, it didn't even move the small boat that he and Amanda sat in. The air had gotten surprisingly warm that day, so it was comfortable on the lake. They both sat with their fishing rods, neither of them catching a thing, with Jonas not even trying. He could hear the birds singing in the trees in the distance. She didn't have that luxury.
As sudden knock on the boat from her got his attention. He looked over to her, surprised, and saw that she had put her rod in one of the holders. Apparently she had been trying to get his attention for some time now, but he was just too out of it. Jonas put his own rod in a holder and signed to her, 'Sorry. What's up?'
'Are you okay?' Amanda signed, concern plain on her face. It seemed everyone was asking that question today. With good reason. He probably looked like he saw a ghost.
'I was just thinking. About taking some time off. Going up north to the cabin, maybe.' Jonas hated lying to her, but if he was going to go, he wasn't going to tell her the truth. Or anyone else for that matter. She would just worry herself to death.
'Why? Is something wrong?'
'I've been out of sorts, that's all. I just want to spend some time away from things.'
Amanda didn't answer right away, she just looked sullen. Then she signed, 'When?'
'Next month probably.'
'If you go, don't text. Write letters. I want to be sure you're okay.'
Jonas smiled sadly at her. He couldn't promise her that, so he didn't. A fish made ripples in the distance, but they just weren't biting today.
June 10th, early morning...
Jonas peered at the private airfield after stepping out of the cab. He was half expecting a Bemidji sized airport, but that clearly wasn't the case. The early morning air was balmier than he would've liked, a fact he was becoming all too aware of as he dragged his heavy luggage and carry on bag out of the cab. The luggage was full of everything he needed: clothes, hygiene needs, the formal wear he had been asked to purchase, his trusty GPS, and plenty of other things to occupy himself. The clear sky offered no protection from the sun's rays, but it was certainty good news for the pilots. Whoever they were.
As he wheeled himself and his luggage towards the airfield, Jonas noted how quiet it was, and how no other cars seemed to be either coming or going. He had always wondered during strange and exciting moments like this about what everyone else in the town could possibly be doing right now. Maybe Dad was waking up to get ready for work, or Amanda was up for an early morning run. Some students had to be up by now, definitely, cramming in last minute homework. And here he was, about to board an unknown jet owned by a mysterious group of people who had managed to sneak a briefcase full of money into his house, flying to Germany to go on some shifty vacation celebrating the summer solstice and going along with it all in the name of curiosity. Who said life in the Midwest was boring?
As Jonas stepped inside the entrance building, a small parade of uniformed folks came outside to meet him.
“Hello there, sir. I take it that you're Mr. Jonas Landvick?” The young lady leading them asked with a smile on her face. It wasn't quite a faked customer service smile, but there was something stiff in her manner. No accent on her, none that he could place anyway.
“Yah, I guess you're expectin' me?” The rest of the parade chose that moment to sweep in politely and take his luggage, carting it away. “Oh, thanks. Uh, hey, dontcha need to x-ray that, or somethin'?” He said as they dragged it behind them, presumably taking it to the plane.
“It's alright sir, it's being taken care of. May I please see your passport and I.D.?” She asked, still smiling.
“Oh, sure.” Jonas obliged, taking his wallet and passport out of his pocket and handing them both over. She looked at the both for the briefest of moments, hardly even glancing them over.
Handing them back, she said, “Looks like everything is in order. If you'll follow me, we can get you in the air right away.”
“Okay then, thanks a bunch.” Jonas said, examining his wallet to make sure the photo of him and Amanda didn't fall out. After that, he followed the woman for some time, eventually heading through some double doors leading outside again. There, off in the distance, sat the plane. Even when he had read in the letter that it would be a private jet, he hadn't expected something so...nice looking. Jonas did note with some interest that there was no name on the side.
“We hope you enjoy flying with us. I can assure you that you'll be reaching your destination safely, comfortably, and on time.” The woman said as they reached the door of the aircraft, leading him inside. With that, Jonas stepped into the plane, astounded by the surroundings inside as the door closed behind him.
It looked more like a lounge than a plane on the inside. Everything was as cozy as it could be, and soon Jonas was approached by a young steward, who showed him to the most comfortable looking seat. “Welcome aboard, sir. I'm sure I can help make your flight as enjoyable as possible.”
Jonas sat down in a daze, scratched his beard and said incredulously, “Well...this sure beats the heck outta coach.” The young man chuckled politely, then began to explain all of the services that he could provide. Drinks, hot or cold meals, in-flight entertainment, and other various luxuries. When he was done, Jonas asked, “So, these Wolf guys, do you know anything about them?”
“I'm sorry, sir.” The steward shook his head. “I don't really know anything about it. I'm just doing my job. Now, is there anything I can get you to start?”
“Well...” Jonas settled into his seat, leaning back a little. “...that hot meal would change things for the better, that's for sure.”
June 11th, nearly 4:00pm...
Before he knew it, Jonas was being led out of the plane and towards a building. He barely had time to soak in any landscape, though a slight but not unpleasant breeze tousled his dark curly hair around a little. Quickly but politely, he was taken into a spiffy little waiting room and asked to wait. Jonas saw right away that he wasn't the first one here. A woman was sitting down, drinking what looked like a club soda.
Jonas peeked over at the refreshments, pouring himself some single malt scotch with a small amount of water, just to calm his nerves a little.
Jonas Landvick woke up gradually, blinking away the morning sun while entwined in his rumpled but empty bedsheets. He stretched his tired limbs, groaning, just thankful that there was some room on the bed to unfold. The soft sounds of the politely turned down kitchen radio drifted through the crack in his bedroom door, some gentle encouragement to wake up. That and there was something else, much more interesting than the radio. Something that smelled darn good.
“Okay, okay. I'm up.” Jonas mumbled into the pillow before rolling off the bed and pulling on a blue bathrobe that he'd left on the floor. He stood up and shuffled out of the dimly lit bedroom and into the hallway, gravity cruelly reminding him of just how exhausted he was. As Jonas entered the kitchen he saw with some interest that it was empty. A note on the table caught his eye, as did the oven light. He picked it up and read it, the coolness of the kitchen floor creeping through his bare feet.
Sorry, had to run early.
Made you some breakfast. It's keeping warm in the oven.
Jonas grinned, putting the paper aside and grabbing an oven mitt. So that's what smelled so good. To his growling stomach's delight, he pulled out a breakfast omelette from the oven and slid it onto a plate. The day just seemed perfect to Jonas. He slept in, had a relaxing day planned, and was just about to eat nice warm breakfast, when his cell phone suddenly rang from its place on the counter top. Seeing the caller, Jonas sighed. “Shoot.” Picking it up, he adopted a friendlier though less sincere tone of voice. “Mornin' Mom.”
“Jonas, I need you to pick some things up for me.” Straight to business. Pretty much what he expected.
“So, how are you? I'm fine, by the way.” Jonas retorted, his words drenched in sarcasm.
His mother clicked her tongue from the other end of the phone dismissively. He always hated that sound. It was her main mode of communication. “Don't pretend like you actually want to know how I am. I need you to get some groceries.”
“When?”
“By noon. I'm making lunch for Ellen and Barb.”
“Nope. Can't do it.” Jonas said, very much relieved that he had made other plans.
“Why not?” She asked, irritated. The sound of her voice pitching higher seemed to send 'hang up the phone' commands to Jonas' mind.
“I promised Amanda that I'd take her fishin'. We both took offa work.” Jonas turned the oven off as he spoke and headed to his room again to try and find slippers.
“Why...” She sighed at him. “...for pete's sake, why would you take her fishing of all things?”
Jonas started crawling around on the floor, searching under the bed and dressers for his slippers. “Because she asked me, yah know? We happen to have fun fishin' together. We don't need to talk, we can just...” He stood up again, the strain from the activity creeping into his voice. “...sit. And enjoy the peace 'n all.”
“What on earth are you doing?”
“Looking for slippers. Gonna go get the mail.”
“You don't have slippers. You've never had slippers.” She observed, as if she actually knew.
Tired of this conversation that was going nowhere, Jonas decided to try and get her to hang up for once. “Who said they were my slippers? Maybe someone left them here.”
“Ugh. Well, if you don't care enough to help me then I'll find someone who does.” Click. The silence that followed was wonderful.
Giving up on his search for quick footwear, Jonas dropped his phone unceremoniously on the bed and headed for the front door, bare feet and all. He had intended to head out to the mailbox and get the mail, but when he stepped into the living room, something stopped him. Something sitting in his entryway.
A briefcase.
Jonas stared at it for some time, wondering. Quickly, he ran back to his bedroom, grabbed his phone and fired off a text as he returned to the case. Just as quickly he got a reply back.
Did you leave a briefcase here?
no didn't bring one
Jonas stood in silence, watching the brief case carefully. The front door was locked, he knew that. It was always locked. It wasn't a big house. If someone had broken in, he would've heard them. For a moment he considered asking the neighbors if they'd seen anything, but shot the idea down quickly. His neighbors gossiped enough about him already.
He approached the case slowly, as if it would explode at any second. Jonas reached out a hand, but just as he was about to touch the handle, his phone vibrated with another text in his left hand, startling him.
everything okay J?
Yeah I'm fine. Thanks for breakfast. <3
When he was finished sending the text, Jonas speedily grabbed the briefcase and flung it open out of some mad rush of curiosity and anxiety. As he did so, the money inside was slightly disheveled as it met his eyes. All five thousand dollars of it. He also saw his passport, an envelope, and...a party popper?
“Holy smokes...”
Not knowing what else to do, he picked up the noise maker and pulled the string, sending a loud pop! and a cloud of confetti flying through the air. Almost afraid to touch the money, Jonas picked up the envelope instead and read the contents. Then, he read them again. And again. Each time he read it, it seemed less and less believable. He stood up and looked out the window, checking to make sure that whoever left this wasn't outside. Then he went back to reading the letter over and over again. The omelette sat on the table, uneaten, for the rest of the morning.
Later that day...
Jonas was still staring, only this time he was staring at the water. It was so still, it didn't even move the small boat that he and Amanda sat in. The air had gotten surprisingly warm that day, so it was comfortable on the lake. They both sat with their fishing rods, neither of them catching a thing, with Jonas not even trying. He could hear the birds singing in the trees in the distance. She didn't have that luxury.
As sudden knock on the boat from her got his attention. He looked over to her, surprised, and saw that she had put her rod in one of the holders. Apparently she had been trying to get his attention for some time now, but he was just too out of it. Jonas put his own rod in a holder and signed to her, 'Sorry. What's up?'
'Are you okay?' Amanda signed, concern plain on her face. It seemed everyone was asking that question today. With good reason. He probably looked like he saw a ghost.
'I was just thinking. About taking some time off. Going up north to the cabin, maybe.' Jonas hated lying to her, but if he was going to go, he wasn't going to tell her the truth. Or anyone else for that matter. She would just worry herself to death.
'Why? Is something wrong?'
'I've been out of sorts, that's all. I just want to spend some time away from things.'
Amanda didn't answer right away, she just looked sullen. Then she signed, 'When?'
'Next month probably.'
'If you go, don't text. Write letters. I want to be sure you're okay.'
Jonas smiled sadly at her. He couldn't promise her that, so he didn't. A fish made ripples in the distance, but they just weren't biting today.
June 10th, early morning...
Jonas peered at the private airfield after stepping out of the cab. He was half expecting a Bemidji sized airport, but that clearly wasn't the case. The early morning air was balmier than he would've liked, a fact he was becoming all too aware of as he dragged his heavy luggage and carry on bag out of the cab. The luggage was full of everything he needed: clothes, hygiene needs, the formal wear he had been asked to purchase, his trusty GPS, and plenty of other things to occupy himself. The clear sky offered no protection from the sun's rays, but it was certainty good news for the pilots. Whoever they were.
As he wheeled himself and his luggage towards the airfield, Jonas noted how quiet it was, and how no other cars seemed to be either coming or going. He had always wondered during strange and exciting moments like this about what everyone else in the town could possibly be doing right now. Maybe Dad was waking up to get ready for work, or Amanda was up for an early morning run. Some students had to be up by now, definitely, cramming in last minute homework. And here he was, about to board an unknown jet owned by a mysterious group of people who had managed to sneak a briefcase full of money into his house, flying to Germany to go on some shifty vacation celebrating the summer solstice and going along with it all in the name of curiosity. Who said life in the Midwest was boring?
As Jonas stepped inside the entrance building, a small parade of uniformed folks came outside to meet him.
“Hello there, sir. I take it that you're Mr. Jonas Landvick?” The young lady leading them asked with a smile on her face. It wasn't quite a faked customer service smile, but there was something stiff in her manner. No accent on her, none that he could place anyway.
“Yah, I guess you're expectin' me?” The rest of the parade chose that moment to sweep in politely and take his luggage, carting it away. “Oh, thanks. Uh, hey, dontcha need to x-ray that, or somethin'?” He said as they dragged it behind them, presumably taking it to the plane.
“It's alright sir, it's being taken care of. May I please see your passport and I.D.?” She asked, still smiling.
“Oh, sure.” Jonas obliged, taking his wallet and passport out of his pocket and handing them both over. She looked at the both for the briefest of moments, hardly even glancing them over.
Handing them back, she said, “Looks like everything is in order. If you'll follow me, we can get you in the air right away.”
“Okay then, thanks a bunch.” Jonas said, examining his wallet to make sure the photo of him and Amanda didn't fall out. After that, he followed the woman for some time, eventually heading through some double doors leading outside again. There, off in the distance, sat the plane. Even when he had read in the letter that it would be a private jet, he hadn't expected something so...nice looking. Jonas did note with some interest that there was no name on the side.
“We hope you enjoy flying with us. I can assure you that you'll be reaching your destination safely, comfortably, and on time.” The woman said as they reached the door of the aircraft, leading him inside. With that, Jonas stepped into the plane, astounded by the surroundings inside as the door closed behind him.
It looked more like a lounge than a plane on the inside. Everything was as cozy as it could be, and soon Jonas was approached by a young steward, who showed him to the most comfortable looking seat. “Welcome aboard, sir. I'm sure I can help make your flight as enjoyable as possible.”
Jonas sat down in a daze, scratched his beard and said incredulously, “Well...this sure beats the heck outta coach.” The young man chuckled politely, then began to explain all of the services that he could provide. Drinks, hot or cold meals, in-flight entertainment, and other various luxuries. When he was done, Jonas asked, “So, these Wolf guys, do you know anything about them?”
“I'm sorry, sir.” The steward shook his head. “I don't really know anything about it. I'm just doing my job. Now, is there anything I can get you to start?”
“Well...” Jonas settled into his seat, leaning back a little. “...that hot meal would change things for the better, that's for sure.”
June 11th, nearly 4:00pm...
Before he knew it, Jonas was being led out of the plane and towards a building. He barely had time to soak in any landscape, though a slight but not unpleasant breeze tousled his dark curly hair around a little. Quickly but politely, he was taken into a spiffy little waiting room and asked to wait. Jonas saw right away that he wasn't the first one here. A woman was sitting down, drinking what looked like a club soda.
Jonas peeked over at the refreshments, pouring himself some single malt scotch with a small amount of water, just to calm his nerves a little.
I WILL be taking notes....on all of you. *looks suspiciously at everyone...especially Jig*
My post is turning out huger than expected. It's in two big ol' chunks, one for before the trip with the briefcase, and one for the flight. Maybe I'll put the before part in a hider like Kirah did.
...
oh man i'm so excited for this
My post is turning out huger than expected. It's in two big ol' chunks, one for before the trip with the briefcase, and one for the flight. Maybe I'll put the before part in a hider like Kirah did.
...
oh man i'm so excited for this
Still halfway through my first post here. For your guys' info, my character has a Minnesotan accent, and your characters will definitely notice it. It's not super stereotypical, even though I've already written one 'dontcha' and two 'yah's. I actually have a specific character's accent in my head, but I can't find any videos of the darn guy. Oh well.
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