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grammartrolls · 4 years

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Stepping In: A Hyperbolic Drabble

that’s right i’m actually posting writing on here deal with it

ship: hyperbole (foseti x apiuma) (and a little bit of apiuma o8< natter >8o foseti)

When Foseti Mafdet agreed to play a video game with a bunch of people she barely knew, if at all, she never expected to become a god. She wasn’t much of a gamer, after all, so when her moirail told her about some game called “SGRUB” in which the players make “a new world” she assumed it was some kind of metaphor.

But here she was, a newly made god of a newly made universe, arguing with a bunch of other newly made gods about how the newly made rules should function in this newly made universe.

It was exhausting and excruciating.

Watching the highbloods argue for a stricter caste structure, arguing with her more radical minority for a deletion of the hierarchy…it all became very tedious very quickly. It was a new, different kind of tediousness than Foseti was familiar with. It was…newly made.

Godly, even. You know, Foseti used to be an atheist before this all happened, but all of this bullshit has made her more open to the idea that perhaps there are gods…and maybe they were just as exhausting and annoying as these ones. It would explain why their world is so fucked up.

Foseti wished she was still an atheist. Ignorance is bliss, after all.

Back on her home planet, discussions took a different approach. Sometimes they were violent, but Foseti tried her best to keep them peaceful. Terse, but peaceful. But now things are significantly different. Now, the two sides were no longer arguing for the long term or the theoretical. Not that Foseti had any desire to argue in pure theory, being a woman of pure praxis, but regardless, discussions were now discussing…the Now. The immediate. The Thing That Is Literally About To Happen.

The birth of a new universe.

…It got exhausting. Breaks needed to be taken. So here she was, taking a break… when who chose to saunter in but one Apiuma Abella.

Oh, how Foseti hated Apiuma Abella.

There were many annoying things that happened at these godly debates. That seadweller, Pequod, and his outlandish idea for a vengeance-based universe…the clown, Latena, arguing for a stronger military, Shakti being…Shakti. Even her own moirail got on her nerves, with his refusal to care about how stupid his optics look when he screams about “lowblood supremacy”.

But by far the worst actor in these debates was Apiuma Abella.

It’s easy to see that Apiuma should, one would think, have the most skin in this game. Foseti knew that Apiuma didn’t even leave her house back on their home planet because she would immediately be culled in the street. Apiuma had a chance to help Foseti create a new universe built on equality, where lowbloods finally had the rights they deserved.

But, no, apparently Apiuma is blissfully unaware of any oppression that existed in their world.

At least, that’s what it looks like to Foseti! It’s how it would look to anyone!

The reason Apiuma was easily the worst part of these debates is her insistence on giving “everyone a chance to speak”. Ugh. What grift.

The very idea that Apiuma, easily the most oppressed person here, would insist on hearing “everyone’s side”, when one of the “gods” at this table wants her and every other lowblood dead was downright insulting to Foseti.

And here came she, likely going to spread her “moderate tolerance” somewhere else. Not that…there was anywhere else to go, of course. They were on a…giant spaceship… whatever, it’s irrelevant.

As Apiuma passed Foseti, she shot a quick look at her.

Foseti repaid it in full. “Apiuma.” She said, tart.

“Foseti…how’s it going?” Apiuma responded, attempting to veil her clear upset…ness.

“Not good.” The rustblood responded coolly. She wanted it to be obvious.

“Oh. I’m sorry. That’s a shame.” Apiuma said, perhaps in an attempt to genuinely feel for Foseti, before attempting to leave again.

“It’s because of you, you know.” Foseti said, rising.

Apiuma stopped and turned around. “What? What did I do?” She said, incredulous, hands on her hips.

Foseti stepped forward and stared the yellowblood down. It was times like these, their confrontations, where the aesthetic difference between the two of them was thrown into stark contrast. Foseti was taller, slimmer, but not without muscle. She had tattoos and piercings. Her hair was big and loud. She was a punk! Apiuma, meanwhile, was small. Squishy. Cute. Undeniably cute. Frustratingly adorable. And soft. And nice to look at, yes, Foseti can admit it! But she still hated her. But, god, she was cute. Being a kismesis is weird sometimes.

In these confrontations, Foseti couldn’t help but feel some sense of satisfaction, even if it was buried under all the anger, in the visual tension between the two of them. Foseti was staring her down, tall and lean. Apiuma was staring up, not weakly, Foseti could admit. There was a fire in her adorably and comically big eyes. The contrast was attractive to the both of them. They were both equally strong in their relationship, and although they despised each other, they gave each other a fire and a passion. This was, Foseti presumed, the essence of a kismessitude. The two of them hated each other. But, god, it was hot. Being a kismesis is weird in general.

But that’s not what this is about. This is about something less personal, of course.

“What did you do? You platformed a supremacist!”

“What? What does that even mean?”

Of course Apiuma didn’t understand.

“Of course you don’t understand…you are so insistent on hearing “other opinions” that you refuse to deplatform one that should absolutely not have a seat at the table.” Foseti snipped, bitter.

“A seat at the…are you talking about Pequod? You know he did a lot to help us in the game! He gave the killing blow to the Black King! We all saw it! He literally helped us win the whole game! He earned his seat at the table like all of us. Also, can we go back to ‘of course you don’t understand’…? What the heck is that supposed to mean!” Apiuma buzzed.

Foseti crossed her arms. It’s true that Pequod did a lot in the campaign. That weapon of his, the Stygian Shade…? It certainly carries a lot of firepower. But whatever, his actions don’t change the fact that his beliefs are toxic as shit. “He literally still believes in a blood hierarchy and actively advocates for it. He literally just did that. You were watching, weren’t you?”

“Of course I was watching!” Apiuma huffed, also crossing her arms. A yellow blush colored her cheeks just a bit.

Cute. Foseti tried to suppress a satisfied grin.

“This isn’t even a political discussion...” Apiuma spat, somewhat under her breath.

“What! What are you even talking about! ‘This isn’t a political discussion’? That’s ridiculous, and you fucking know it. When discussing the making of a new universe, the politics of that universe are kind of vital, don’t you think? And including supremacists like Pequod, or grifters like Marina, or war-advocators like Latena is not the morally responsible thing to do, don’t you think?!”

“Well, if it’s such a political discussion, I don’t see why you have to involve everyone, especially people who want to stay out of the politics, like me!” Apiuma burst.

Oh, here it is. The moment Apiuma pulls out the ‘apolitical’ card, and Foseti gets to pull out all the stops.

“Oh, that’s right, I forgot you don’t actually care.” Foseti said dryly, turning around.

Apiuma gasped. “How dare you!” She rushed in front of the rustblood. “How dare you suggest such a thing!”

“Well, if you actually cared, you would be willing to take the steps needed for equality.” Foseti shrugged. “But instead you choose to be a caste traitor.”

“C-Caste traitor!?” Apiuma repeated, shocked.

“I said what I said. You have repeatedly refused to take the necessary steps for lowblood liberation, and continue to do so now.” Foseti leaned forward, and rested her hands on her knees, getting close to Apiuma’s adorable face. “What other word is there to use but traitor, babe?”

Apiuma puffed, clearly offended.

Normally, Foseti would not use such…incendiary tactics. She was normally far more professional than this, but there was something about Apiuma…

“What, so I’m supposed to join the revolution like a ‘good lowblood’? I’m supposed to be blacklisted from every major city, I’m supposed to be enemy no. 1, like you, babe? Sometimes, people just want to cope.”

Foseti backed up quickly, a bit surprised. Apiuma didn’t usually have stops to pull out like this. She was kind of impressed.

“Besides, it really is none of your business at all what I think or believe or do with my time. I have a right to do things completely unrelated to politics. It’s, honestly, pretty offensive, really, how much you harp on my apolitical…ness, since it’s obvious you only do that because I’m the lowest blood color among the whole team. Why should I have to be staunchly political, like you? Because I’m a lowblood? A near-mutant? It’s super unfair and annoying, honestly.” Apiuma crossed her arms, and looked away. She was frowning, but Foseti could see a satisfied glint in her eye.

Clever. Foseti wasn’t expecting all of that. Not that Apiuma wasn’t clever, of course, but this is usually the part where she gets flustered and walks away. Or they make out. It’s really 50/50 at this point.

Foseti averted her eyes. She honestly didn’t know what to say. It’s…possible that…Apiuma might…be right. But it doesn’t matter.

“The fact still stands that your refusal to stand for our rights shows that you, on some level, don’t care. Or you just can’t be bothered. Either way, it’s disappointing. And yes, a large part of that is because of your blood color. I find it unbelievable how apolitical you are because of your caste. You have the most to gain and the most to lose in the movement, so why don’t you choose to stand up?”

Foseti prided herself on that answer, especially since it clearly upset Apiuma more.

“I hate revolutionaries!” Apiuma threw her hands up, clearly frustrated. “Nothing anyone does is ever good enough for you! Why can’t you just accept that some people don’t care about politics without calling us ‘grifters’! That a lot of us just want to live our lives and not have to think about any of that stuff!”

Foseti was surprised. And angry. Not at Apiuma responding at all, no, she found a great satisfaction in their debate. But the idea that anyone, especially with a blood color as low as Apiuma’s, wouldn’t want to think about the problems that plague their society, wouldn’t want to fix it, made Foseti furious.

“…Whatever.” The rustblood said, bile coating her words. “I shouldn’t keep you. You probably have clown makeup to paint on, don’t you? Faygo to drink? I bet you have to go play ‘make-believe highblood’.” Foseti crossed her arms again and looked away, satisfied at such a line.

“That would invalidate everything…you say…” There was a silence.

Apiuma wasn’t responding to Foseti’s insult. That wasn’t normal.

Foseti looked down to see a completely different expression on her kismesis’ face.

Shock, offense and hurt was splayed on Apiuma’s cheek. The small yellowblood looked down at her feet.

“I…” Foseti could hear Apiuma’s voice shake. Her face was obscured from view, but immediately Foseti got that feeling in the pit of her stomach that she said something she really, really shouldn’t have. Apiuma held her hands together, and Foseti could see they were shaking. Oh, no, no, this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. A kismesis isn’t supposed to make their partner cry. Er…well…this wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

“Hey…” Foseti reached out.

Apiuma ran away.

Oh, shit. Shit, shit, shit, did she just fuck this up?

“Wow, you fucked that up.” A different voice.

Foseti turned around to see a familiar, bespectacled, nihilistic near-jade. “Oh, it’s you…” Foseti sighed. “What are you doing here? Er—how long were you standing here?”

“Enough to know you have royally fucked up.” Natter Schlau stepped forward toward the rustblood.

Foseti didn’t have particularly high regards for Natter either. She was, perhaps, just as apolitical as her moirail-turned-matesprit, but at the very least she has a more philosophical justification. It’s a bullshit one, but at least she has one. Regardless, most of her interactions with the nihilist were unpleasant, but that’s probably just because Natter is an unpleasant person.

“Why didn’t you rush to your matesprit’s aid earlier?” Foseti asked, with a slight sarcastic twinge.

Natter shrugged. “I assumed it was some strange blackrom courtship ritual.”

Foseti shrugged back. “…It kind of was. But…ah shit…I really went too far with that last comment. The ‘make-believe highblood’ comment. That was a terrible thing to say.”

It truly was a shitty thing to say.

“Yes, terrible would be the key word. How did you even know that?”

“Know what? I made that up.” Foseti rubbed her temples. “It…it was hyperbole, you know? I was being facetious.”

“Oh…” Natter groaned slightly, before rubbing her eyes underneath her glasses. “Well. Congratulations. You have picked upon a very sensitive wound.” She gestured sarcastically. “Good job.”

“Wait…don’t tell me…”

“Alright, I won’t.”

“I’m being serious. Apiuma…actually pretends to be a highblood?” Foseti asked in disbelief.

Natter sighed. “…Sometimes. I have caught her doing that, yes. She practices putting face paint on and pretending to be a purpleblood. Honestly, I don’t know if she is play-pretending at being a highblood or genuinely desires to become a subjuggulator, or a convert, or however that heathen cult works,”

God, Natter could be an asshole, even to the assholes.

“Regardless,” the near-jade continued, “She sometimes practices putting on clown makeup. I’ve asked her about it. We’ve discussed it, but as of now she does not desire to discuss it further, so I leave it at that.”

Foseti sighed and ran her hands through her hair. This…this was weird.

“Oh…fuck…I fucked up so bad.” She began massaging her eyes, feeling a headache coming on.

“Yes.”

Well, at least Natter was direct, if a bit abrupt.

Foseti struggled a bit. She was not a bad kismesis. Apiuma has said that, and Foseti understands what a bad kismessitude looked like. No, neither of them were overly abusive or wanted each other dead. It was just little jabs and pokes, stabs and gripes, that made a good pitch relationship. And Foseti was pretty sure that she and Apiuma have that. Well. It might become ‘had’, if Foseti doesn’t go patch things up. Oh, and Foseti definitely knows she’s going have to be the one to fix this. But apologies are not…her strong suit. She’s apologized before, of course, as has anyone, but it never gets easier. She sighed.

“I’ll fix it. Don’t worry.”

“I am not worried. Apiuma is stronger than you think. She is very unstable, of course, but who of us isn’t?”

Again with the thoughtful insights. God, Natter was insufferable. But she was right.

“However!” Foseti pointed out. “Her unstable nature does not make my points any less valid.” She said, mainly to herself.

Natter cocked an eyebrow. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Our debate. I know when I go apologize she’s going to try and say that her feelings being hurt makes her arguments somehow more valid. They aren’t.”

“Oh. That. How tedious you two are sometimes.”

“You’re one to talk.”

“Fair enough.” Natter pushed up her glasses. “What was that whole event even about anyway?”

“Ugh!” Foseti cried out. “What it’s always about! Apiuma is so…apolitical. I don’t get it.”

“Oh, right, the same thing you two are always, always talking about.” The exasperation in her voice was obvious, as it always was. “Honestly, I don’t think your argument is as valid as you say.”

“What makes you say that.” Foseti asked tersely, with another cross of the arms.

Natter sighed greatly as she is wont to do. “Very well. I shall explain. I believe there are several things about Apiuma that you simply do not understand. Mainly, her disposition. It is simply not cut out for politics. As you have seen, Apiuma is a highly sensitive person. Personally, I think that makes her beautiful and empathetic, but it is not a very practical skill with politics, I think you would agree?”

Foseti shrugged. “I guess.” Natter did have a point. Foseti herself has had to cultivate a pretty tough skin, and a soft egg like Apiuma probably wouldn’t thrive if she was in Foseti’s position.

“Furthermore, Apiuma has had more hardship than you could possibly know. She has not left her home in sweeps. Well, I mean…now she has, but before we began SGRUB, she hadn’t walked out her own door in a long time. She has suffered greatly, due to her, frankly frustrating, refusal to go hemoanon. And, honestly, I think you would agree that her refusal to hide her blood color is somewhat radical, yes?”

Foseti looked away. “Sure. I can admit that.”

“In all this time hiding away, it would have been easy for Apiuma to cultivate an attitude of negativity, of sullenness or anger. But, instead, she chose joy. She chose…pretty things…” Natter paused, slightly lost in appreciation for her matesprit. Despite her dislike of both of them, Foseti could acknowledge that they had a very healthy relationship. She would be lying if she said she wasn’t a bit jealous.

“Anyway. Apiuma has turned herself into a person that would rather focus on joy and positivity than being mentally bogged down by politics and revolutionary action.”

Foseti puffed a bit. “You can be a revolutionary and be joyful and positive.” She said, prickled.

“Ah yes, because you are clearly a person overcome with virulent joy and light.”

Foseti narrowed her eyes and pointed a finger at the nihilist. “Look.” She said, sharp. “I’m only harsh and cold because my movement requires me to be so.”

Natter chuckled a bit, and pushed up her glasses once more; a classic smug Natter manuever, one that she performed every time she felt she made a prescient argument.

“Do you think Apiuma should become you?”

Foseti stopped. Huh. Hm.

That’s a weird question. Foseti thought about it for a moment.

“Let us phrase it like this. Do you think the world would be better if people in it were more like you?”

Foseti fumbled. “I mean…” She means…it kind of would be? If people were more practical, simple, honest, and strong, the world would be a better place. It would certainly be better for the lowbloods.

“Y…Yes. It would be. The world would be better if people acted like me.”

“And do you see a problem with that mindset?”

Of course Foseti did. The moment she verbalized it, she recognized the problem.

“Not everyone can be Foseti Mafdet. Some people are just really not cut out for it, and it would be counterproductive, irresponsible, harmful and stupid to believe otherwise. I am sure you would agree.” Natter stated, frankly.

“You’re right.” Foseti conceded.

“And someone like Apiuma is absolutely not cut out for it. Obviously. She herself would agree. And so she has every right to not engage in something that would clearly cause her great mental duress. Besides, she kind of already is under mental duress. The very act of existing as she does gives her a great amount of mental struggles. I think you can understand that, being a lowblood yourself.”

“Of course.” Foseti nodded. Yes, she herself has long buried trauma that simply comes from existing as a lowblooded troll. The attacks, the losses…yes, Foseti understood that pain acutely. “I get that.”

“So it would be irresponsible to put her into further mental and physical danger. Apiuma is a lot more vulnerable than you.”

Foseti nodded. “Fine. I can admit that she doesn’t have to become a revolutionary. But she could afford to care more about our plight.”

“And who are you to say she doesn’t? You do not hear the conversations we have, her and I, and you would be surprised at some of the opinions that Apiuma possess. They are more radical than you might think.” Natter replied.

Foseti narrowed her eyes a bit. “Even if that is true, it sometimes feels like she doesn’t even know how we suffer.”

Natter scoffed. “What a preposterous notion. Of course she does! She is, arguably, more oppressed than you! Not that we should play that kind of game. Again, she cannot even leave her house.”

Foseti raised her hands defensively. “Alright, alright, I get it, I get it. I may not agree with her, but I get it.”

“Oh, do not mistake me,” Natter interrupted. “I have no desire to defend my matesprit regarding some of her arguments. I think several of her opinions are rather indefensible. The idea that someone like Pequod should have any say in how this new universe unfolds is demonstrably stupid. The man can barely function as a social being.”

Foseti chuckled a bit. Hm. Maybe Natter wasn’t as apolitical as Foseti had thought her to be.

“I agree with you that someone like that should probably be deplatformed. Apiuma’s fixation on not hurting anyone’s feelings is rather ill-advised in this regard. Her repeated refusal to disavow outwardly supremacist rhetoric and people is something her and I are working on. Frankly, it disturbs me that she thinks like this. What if some brigand or blackguard demands something heinous of her and she cannot find it in herself to refuse, for fear of hurting their feelings? It is something that frightens me, not that much frightens me, of course. No, I don’t think any of us are qualified to be gods. Even me. Well…” Natter thought about it. “No. I am as flawed an individual as any thinking being. Really, what is thought? What is a being?”

Wow. Even when Natter makes a cogent argument, she is still insufferable. It’s a skill, honestly.

“Anyway. This is why I believe that she shouldn’t even be involved in this discussion. But it seems you have somewhat forced her hand.”

“What?” Foseti replied, curious.

“Well. You are kind of forcing all of us to attend these meetings.” Natter said, frankly.

“I think that’s a reasonable thing to do.” Foseti replied, a bit offended by the implication. “We all beat the game, so those of us who have reasonable beliefs should work together to create our new universe.”

“And yet you find yourself frustrated at Apiuma for being bad at realpolitik when you yourself have forced herself into the position! You have created your own problem here, Foseti,” Natter removed her glasses and polished them. “You force her to do something she is bad at, and then hate her for being bad at it. I am not saying the two of you cannot have conflict. You are kismeses. You hate each other. That is, how you say, the point. But you should at least acknowledge the slight fuckery of the issue here.” The jade punctuated her point by slipping her glasses back onto her face, and gazed at Foseti expectedly.

Foseti shifted slightly. “Fine. She doesn’t have to come to the discussions anymore. But what in the shit is with the ‘make-believe highblood’ stuff!” Foseti threw her hands up in frustration.

Natter furrowed her brows. It looked like genuine offense was taken there. “You should know, Apiuma fully understands that her fixation on highbloods is extremely unhealthy. That is another thing her and I are discussing. And frankly, her relationship with her own marginalized identity is absolutely none of your business. You had no justification to make a comment as hurtful as that, and furthermore, you have no right to continue to poke the wound. It would be best for the both of you if you both forgot that you said that, but since you cannot, I would suggest you do not mention it again. Besides, who are you to judge how a lowblood copes with their lot in life? Some of us fight back, some of us fantasize, all of us know our own pain. It is offensive to assume otherwise.” Natter crossed her arms, clearly tense.

Foseti turned away from the near-jade, caught in her own thoughts. Natter was right. This obsession with Apiuma’s trauma responses is horrible for their relationship. She turned back.

“You’re right. Thanks.”

Natter sighed slightly, loosening up a bit. “Of course. I care deeply for my matesprit, and desire her to have a healthy kismessitude. By the way,” Natter narrowed her eyes to slits. “If it decays to abuse, I cannot guarantee your safety.”

Foseti cocked a very unconvinced brow. “What even is your strife specibus?”

Natter shifted slightly. “…I wield a very dangerous shovel.”

“…Right.” Foseti bat the issue away. “Anyway. Thanks.”

A sense of guilt still hung in her head, but she felt more open knowing what the next steps to take are.

Foseti looked toward Natter. “You know…you’re a pretty great mediator.”

“Hm.” The near-jade thought about it for a moment. “I suppose I am. Anyway. I must be off.” Natter began to walk past Foseti, in Apiuma’s direction.

“Where are you going?” Foseti asked.

“I am going to comfort my girlfriend. I wish you the best, Foseti.”

And with that, the nihilist left, following her matesprit. What an asshole. She was right, of course, but she was still an asshole.

Foseti Mafdet took a deep, godly, breath, and decided the next best course of action would be to head to her room to sleep and think.

...And so she did. And the dreams were good.

#writing #hyperbole #natter #apiuma #foseti #here #i really like Hyperbole and i have been wanting to write this for a while and i cranked it all out in 4 hours on a plane #i am proud of myself #drabble