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ladynoirelf · 3 years

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Dark Crystal Couples Tiktok: Texting s/o that someone is flirting with them

Deet to Rian.

Stoneboo:

Rian, this guy keeps leering at me and it's making me uncomfortable.

Deet counted six seconds before Rian came sliding down the aisle she was in.

She doubled over in laughter at the sight of a loaf of bread in his hand and his hair tied in a bun.

“Where is he?” he asked, tone filled with menace as he looked around for the creep.bread swinging as if it were a bola.

“W-Why do you have bread”? Deet laughed, holding a fuming Rian back with her hands on his chest.

“Where's the guy”?

“Why are you swinging the poor bread like that”?

“I'm gonna hit him with it”.

“With a loaf of…” Deet grabbed the bag midair “Spritan Maiden Wheat Bread”?

“Yeah, he's lucky I didn't grab the string cheese. Deet where is the guy”?

“There is no guy, but thank you for getting the bread”. Deet beamed, fluttering her lashes as he gently disarmed her pissed love to put the loaf in the basket.

Rian to Deet

MY Deet:

So don't panic, but the same girl keeps jogging by me while I do my stretches.

‘Where in Thra’s name is she’? It had been twenty minutes since he sent his text and he was still shirtless and sweaty underneath one of the park’s trees.

“Hey Rian”.

He turned around to see Deet walking his way

“Hey, did you get my message”?

“Yeah”.

“Well...where were-do you care”?

“Oh Rian” Deet cooed, kissing her boyfriend’s sweaty cheek “I knew you were gonna handle that. I trust you”. She giggled, settling on the blanket Rian had spread out for his workout gear.

As Rian continued his workout he coulndt help but notice Deet side eying any female joggers that passed by them.

Brea to Kylan

UnaLarva:

Larva this guy has been giving me kissing faces. I tried losing him in the mystery novels but he’s still goggling me.

Brea was leaning on the bookcase when Kylan came jetting into the mystery books aisle.

Hair tousled, jacket tied around his waist and a heavy encyclopedia gripped in his hand. Brea raised a brow.

“What in the-”?

“W-Where's the guy”?

“ Hm”?

“They guy that was making you uncomfortable, where is he”? Kylan scanned the isle looking for anyone suspicious.

“Oh Larva there is no guy, I just wanted to see if you would come.” Brea pulled Kylan into a comforting hug. “My big, strong, protector”. She cooed. Giggling at Kylan’s relief sigh as he gripped the sliping encyclopedia with his other hand.

“Oh thank Thra, because as much as I love you I can't fight very well. I was ready to take a beating”. Kylan breathed.

“Awww, you would take a beating for me”?

“Yeah”.

“Please don't, and why are your clothes and hair a mess”?

“I was trying to look intimidating Brea you know i'm only 3’3”.

“Oh, okay and what's the encyclopedia for”?

“My weapon of choice, you like it”.

“Yeah it's...fitting”. Brea chuckled “so where are you coming from? You got here pretty fast”.

“The adventure books, they have the new volume of that series you like”.

“Oh Really! Well come on then”. She grabbed her still confused boyfriend by the wrist and dragged him to the adventure aisle.

Kylan to Brea

Brea:

Brea, this guy keeps on following me. I've tried to lose him, but I think he's trailing me. I'm in the calligraphy aisle.

‘I already have a feeling i'm going to regret this’ Kylan hesitantly sent the message, making sure no one was in the aisle with him before he sent it. Knowing his girlfriend, she would attack at the first gillon she saw.

It took only a second before the rapid clicking of heels and Brea sliding into the aisle with an exacto-knife removed from its package, uncapped and gripped tightly in her hand.

“Where is he”? She seethed “who's bothering you”?

“For the love of Thra, where did you get a knife”?!

“We're in the Art store, I'm surrounded by weapons of choice. Now Where is the guy messing with my Una Larva”?

“There is no guy, I was just joking”. Kylan frantically gripped the back of Brea’s dress trying to hold her in place. She looked back at him with wide embarrassed eyes.

“Are you being serious”?

“Yes, I'm sorry”. Kylan’s ears bashfully lowered. Brea sighed as she pulled the exacto blade’s cap from her pocket.

“Augra’s eye Ky, be careful I was ready to kill a gelf”. She sighed as she put the cap on the blade “And I need to buy this because I took it out of the package”.

“You are crazy, I love you but you're crazy”. Kylan laughed softly, kissing Brea’s silver locks.

“Hey it took me nineteen trine to find my dream-gillon”. She yanked Kylan into a kiss by the collar of his shirt. “And i'm not gonna let anyone take him from me” she smirked.

“Of course, my princess”.

Mothria to Gurjin

Himbo Prince:

Gur-Gur, some guy is eyeing me. I'm by the shirts, please hurry!

Mothria couldn't help but snicker behind her hand as she tucked her phone back in her bag. She was actually kind of excited to see what deranged yet comedic thing was gonna come next.

“Baaabe~’”.

‘Oh my Thra.’

Nothing could prepare Mothria for her boyfriend, covered in poorly drawn lipsticks marks all over his face with his clothes all disheveled.

“Hey you woke up before we could start round two~. You ready to-where's the guy”?

Mothria burst out laughing, doubling over, clutching over and wheezing as she tried to catch her breath.

“W...What in Aguhra’s name did you do to yourself?” she wheezed

“Where’s the guy”?

“There is no guy, what is on your face”? Mothris brushed her thumb over her love’s face wiping off the lipstick.

“Babe, I had to sneak into the makeup section to get this stuff on me. Do you know how many looks I got? Alot”.

“Oh Thra, come on before we get banned”. Mothria grabbed Gurjin by his jacket, hurrying out of the store before getting caught.

Gurjin to Mothria

Mothy:

I’ve got a guy on my tail, could use some assistance in the tool aisle.

Gurjin snickerd as he sends the text, leaning against one of the shelves as he hears the incoming doom of the imaginary pursuer.

All he saw were green and blue locs dangling as Mothria peeked her head into the aisle, eyes scanning for someone close to his proximity.

“You okay”? She asked, heading towards him with a metal pipe in her hand.

“Aughra’s eye Mothy”.

“What”?

“You gonna break the guys kneecaps? I'm flattered”.

“Huh”? Mothria looked at Gurjin pointing to the ‘weapon’ in her hand “Oh my- no this is something I'm buying this for Pop-Pa! I would never”. She giggled “So is there no guy? You made me run here like a mad woman with an assumed weapon”.

“You wouldn't bust some kneecaps for me”? Gurjin pouted.

“I would, just not today in a hardware store”.

“So you would do it any other day in a different place”?

Mothria rolled her eyes, taking her boyfriends hand “Of course, no one touches me or you”.

#stonegrot #royalmelody #modernau #oc x canon #Rian #deet #brea x kylan #kylan #deet x rian #gurjin #mothria #ladynoirelf #Gelfling #Dark Crystal #dark crystal novel #dark crystal age of resistance

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einstein-robin-hood-blog · 7 years

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The Dharma Subs, by Jack Kerouac (excerpt)

Just outside of Barstow, the needle on the speedometer hit 120. Dean let out a whoop and put his chin back on the steering wheel. He had a tuna sub in each hand (toasted parmesan cheese roll, lettuce, tomato, black olive, extra pickle, benzadrine) and was steering with his chin.

“Sal, grab the wheel for a sec.”

I leaned over and Dean reached into the cooler on the back seat and grabbed another sub (iron foundry bread, wilted Apache lettuce, Hampton tomatoes, jingo weed sauce, crystal meth). Now he was working on three and yelling:

“This is it, man! No one has ever driven 120 while eating three subs!”

We were headed to Denver to hear Carlo Marx read his new poem -

HOW(L) Do You Want Your Sub? - at a Paint and Sip in East Colfax. There was a waitress there that Dean had knocked up on his last trip through town and since he had just gotten divorced, he was all set to marry Gladys (that being her name).

But it had to be a surgical strike, because there was a warrant out for Dean. Last summer, Dean beat up a kid who was working the counter during Sub Night at the Montbello Paint and Sip. Dean didn’t like the way the kid made his sub (Hawaiian longboard bread, Emily Dickinson lettuce, whorehouse tomatoes, Popeye spinach, olive oil, very few pickles (really, it was insulting), peyote). Dean jumped over the counter, knocked the kid out, and then emptied the whole jar of pickles on his sub (Hawaiian longboard bread, Emily Dickinson lettuce, whorehouse tomatoes, Popeye spinach, olive oil, way too many pickles now, peyote). This probably would have been fine, except he then poured a gallon jug of chipotle mayonnaise on the kid’s head. Dean’s bad luck would have it that the kid aspirated some of the mayo and was in the hospital for six weeks. Yeah, that stuff burns. Also turns out that the kid was a nephew of Denver’s mayor, Aloysious “Triphammer” Fortescue. So the whole Denver police force, batons in hand, were on the lookout for Dean.

The sun was going down when we decided to take a detour to Provo. Good sub town. They had a special sub, called The Esteemed Savory Elder Brigham Young, May His Memory Be A Blessing, Sub (Yemeni pita, sundried lettuce, Incan tomato, pickled forget-me-nots, mescaline), that drew them in from miles around. Folks in Provo got their energy from the mountains and the tumbleweeds that blow through town night and day. True believers who spend their days roping cows, throwing seed on dirt that’s been in their families for generations, or pulling a double shift at the Paint and Sip. At night, they trim their nose hair in the bathroom mirror and wait for the banjo repairman. Say what you will about Mormons, they know how to make a good sub (toasted pioneer bread, double cheese, oil & vinegar, righteous Jesus pickle, amphetamine).

It was around midnight when we spotted her by the side of the road. We had just passed through a ghost town called The Parson’s Handbag and were starting to flag. We were down to our last sub (quinoa loaf, swamp lettuce, moonbeam tomatoes, blind midget peppers, dead coal miner sauce, pineal gland extract).

Her name was Sunbeam and she was dressed as a giant six foot sub (foam rubber bun, styrofoam tomato, green felt lettuce, plasticine chipotle mayonnaise, LSD). And a five gallon tub of pickles under her arm. She jumped into the front seat and sat herself down right between me and Dean.

“Good tidings, hepcats. You fine examples of American manhood wouldn’t happen to be going to Provo, would you?”

“As a matter of fact, sister, we are,” I replied. “Settle in and dig the happenings.” Dean just stared.

“So, milady of the toasted bun, what flame doth draw thy sweet and tender mothiness to the enchanted burg of Provo.” My flirting game was a little rusty, so I may have been laying it on a bit thick.

“Big sub convention! The Mormons are rolling out a new secret sub (?????,?????,?????,?????). They claim just one bite gives you eternal life and your own planet. Makes The Esteemed Savory Elder Brigham Young, May His Memory Be A Blessing, Sub taste like dirt. They call it The Rapture Sub.”

“Far out. I wants in, missy.”

“You gots in, mister.”

Through all this world-class flirting, Dean was quiet as a speakeasy mouse on a three-day cheese and port wine jag. His eyes were glued to the road. Every once in a while he’d reach over and grab Sunbeam by the bun. She’d giggle and slap his hand away playfully.

We eventually ran out of subs and decided to pull over and crash for the night. Being a gentleman, or thinking myself to be one, I offered to sleep in the trunk, leaving Sunbeam the spacious backseat and Dean the front. He liked to sleep with his chin hanging off the bottom of the steering wheel, “Good practice,” he’d say.

I awoke pretty groggy. Climbed out of the trunk, took a quick leak onto sun-bleached desert hardpan, and peered into the car. Sunbeam was nowhere to be found. Half of her sub costume, torn to shreds, was spread all over the back seat. I looked at Dean and saw that his stomach was incredibly distended. Like 12 months pregnant distended.

I shook him awake.

“What did you do? Where’s Sunbeam?”

Dean rubbed his eyes, spit out the window, and asked “Who’s Sunbeam? Man, am I stuffed.”

“Sunbeam is the chick we picked up past night. I think you ate her!” I was starting to panic. This was worse than the kid and the mayonnaise.

“What are you talking about? I don’t remember any chick. All I remember is tripping balls and eating a giant sub that just wouldn’t stop.”

“That was Sunbeam! You ate Sunbeam! You ate an entire chick!” (long brown hair, sports bra, Grateful Dead T-shirt, hold the undies, blue jeans, huarache sandals, giant foam rubber sub costume, peyote).

Just then, Sunbeam sauntered over from behind an ocotillo bush, hitching up her pants and calling out: “Greetings my brothers! I have completed my morning ritual and returned my essence to Mother Earth, as it has been for all generations since Eve trod in the Garden.” She paused and looked at us: “I’m not even going to ask about the sub costume. If you can front a girl breakfast and lunch, we can call it even.”

Dean looked at me and asked who was she and what the hell was she talking about. I breathed a huge sigh of relief and I told him: “Her name is Sunbeam and I think she just took a piss.” Dean nodded, turned on the radio - “Sweet and Dandy” by Toots and the Maytals. I climbed into the back seat, got cozy with Sunbeam, and we were off.

And there we were, two heteronormative men and a lost flower child of yet undisclosed sexuality, burning a sweet black line of rubber to match the white centerline of the road. We had no idea where our next sub would come from, but we knew it was out there somewhere, waiting.

I’m not even going to tell you what the foam rubber sub did to Dean’s digestion.

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