Post by Daimon Darren on Jul 25, 2018 19:27:40 GMT -4
“It’s like the fighter pilot thing. Actually, it's exactly the fighter pilot thing. I had to see an Air Force doctor when I was a kid. I see gray before a black-out, and red before a red-out.” He pointed at his head. “Red-out is the one that makes my brain go pop,” he added helpfully, demonstrating the sound once again. "So I want to avoid that." He changed the subject, having at least an inkling of sense for when he was making people uncomfortable.
Somehow, his father’s advice worked perfectly on this girl. When she said she felt bad for taking advantage of him, he smiled like a devil. Of course! His father was always hanging around in America, of course his advice would work on American girls! Plus, he read something online about Florida girls that was pretty interesting from the point of view of Florida men, but quite offensive and very objectifying from the point of view of Florida women. He mentally fist-bumped his old man and answered her with a line that he would eventually find, in retrospect, extremely cheesy.
“You can take advantage of me whenever you want.” An actual devil -- or so Darren says -- took hold of his body in this moment and made him wink. Even later, he realized that he got the idea off Maxi. He swore that if he ever caught himself saying “love~” to a girl, he would quit fighting and become a regular salaryman.
It might seem a rather tame oath of punishment to some, but to the fight nut that was Daimon Darren, this was a fate much, much worse than death.
Thankfully, the conversation drifted to their origins, and he managed to save it with his dumb accents. “Half-Aussie,” he answered. "The one down-under, not the Euro one." Then the girl talked to him in Spanish. He said the only other line from the Che Guevara documentary he once watched late at night and got the entirety of his Spanish vocabulary from that he remembered.
“Viva la revolucion,” he said, weakly pumping his fist in the air, his eyes half-closed, looking not convincing at all.
And like that, it was time to part way, as they arrived in front of the building. There was a moment of silence. Darren’s eyelids were still half closed. Then Melody said that she had fun tonight despite her training got interrupted, and something woke up in him, and his body acted on his own. He instantly changed his posture and facial expression to those of a suave delinquent. He put his hands in his pockets, his shoulders slightly slouched, a half smile on his face and walked away, towards the boy’s section of the dorms.
“Hit me up when you wanna have fun again,” he said in a voice that wanted to be suave and fell just short of it.
He fought a intense mental battle against his left eyelid, possessed again by the ungodly intent to wink. He won by a critically small margin.
Afterwards, he quickly hurried to his room, closed the doors, and meditated on his bed for a while about the interesting implications of a quirk that required its very feminine user to be essentially naked -- and very wet -- when using it, and the merits of partial transformations into water before falling asleep.
Darren had very pleasant dreams tonight.
Somehow, his father’s advice worked perfectly on this girl. When she said she felt bad for taking advantage of him, he smiled like a devil. Of course! His father was always hanging around in America, of course his advice would work on American girls! Plus, he read something online about Florida girls that was pretty interesting from the point of view of Florida men, but quite offensive and very objectifying from the point of view of Florida women. He mentally fist-bumped his old man and answered her with a line that he would eventually find, in retrospect, extremely cheesy.
“You can take advantage of me whenever you want.” An actual devil -- or so Darren says -- took hold of his body in this moment and made him wink. Even later, he realized that he got the idea off Maxi. He swore that if he ever caught himself saying “love~” to a girl, he would quit fighting and become a regular salaryman.
It might seem a rather tame oath of punishment to some, but to the fight nut that was Daimon Darren, this was a fate much, much worse than death.
Thankfully, the conversation drifted to their origins, and he managed to save it with his dumb accents. “Half-Aussie,” he answered. "The one down-under, not the Euro one." Then the girl talked to him in Spanish. He said the only other line from the Che Guevara documentary he once watched late at night and got the entirety of his Spanish vocabulary from that he remembered.
“Viva la revolucion,” he said, weakly pumping his fist in the air, his eyes half-closed, looking not convincing at all.
And like that, it was time to part way, as they arrived in front of the building. There was a moment of silence. Darren’s eyelids were still half closed. Then Melody said that she had fun tonight despite her training got interrupted, and something woke up in him, and his body acted on his own. He instantly changed his posture and facial expression to those of a suave delinquent. He put his hands in his pockets, his shoulders slightly slouched, a half smile on his face and walked away, towards the boy’s section of the dorms.
“Hit me up when you wanna have fun again,” he said in a voice that wanted to be suave and fell just short of it.
He fought a intense mental battle against his left eyelid, possessed again by the ungodly intent to wink. He won by a critically small margin.
Afterwards, he quickly hurried to his room, closed the doors, and meditated on his bed for a while about the interesting implications of a quirk that required its very feminine user to be essentially naked -- and very wet -- when using it, and the merits of partial transformations into water before falling asleep.
Darren had very pleasant dreams tonight.