GREEN 11 0 1593 10 KB 140

On The End of The Line

By I_wanna_dies_sama
Created: 2026-05-31 00:11:08
Updated: 2026-05-31 00:33:00
incestvinyl scratchnsfwoctaviaanonymousaccidental phone sex

  1. 1.
    My first green in a long, long, looong time.
  2. 2.
    Written for this thread (https://desuarchive.org/mlp/thread/43194111/) but was inspired first by a post on this thread about Octavia (https://desuarchive.org/mlp/thread/43218978/),
  3. 3.
     
  4. 4.
    >“OCTAVIA! WHERE the fock ’ave yew bewn?””
  5. 5.
    >You close the door behind you, entering the old-world snapshot that is this dust-trap apartment.
  6. 6.
    >Then, you turn around at the call of your name and see Mum’s seated in the small sofa with that bitter frown marked by cigarette lines.
  7. 7.
    >You stare at Mum blankly, not sure what she means by this.
  8. 8.
    >Then, it hits you.
  9. 9.
    >Wednesday.
  10. 10.
    >Brunch.
  11. 11.
    >You forgot…
  12. 12.
    “Ohhh, shoit.”
  13. 13.
    >“Yeh, shoit! Brilliant. Ah’m sittin ’ere fer foive-an’-a-half bloody hours thinkin’ yew’ve been abducted or joined a cult.”
  14. 14.
    “Sorreh, Mum, honestly! Lost track o’ toime!”
  15. 15.
    >“Yew missed coffee wiv yer MUM, Octavia.”
  16. 16.
    “Ah said sorreh.”
  17. 17.
    >But your apology is not enough.
  18. 18.
    >It has never, ever, EVER been enough, not for Mum.
  19. 19.
    >“Nahhh, don’t gimme thot. Every toime yew say ‘sorreh’ Ah end up hearin’ summat thot sounds loike evidence in a court case.”
  20. 20.
    “...Ah were wiv me mate, Voinyl.”
  21. 21.
    >“...VOINYL?”
  22. 22.
    “Keep yer voice dahn.”
  23. 23.
    >“NO, Ah WOON’T keep me voice dahn! Yew binned me off fer a bloke named after a FUCKIN’ MATERIAL?”
  24. 24.
    >‘Bloke’.
  25. 25.
    “It’s…It’s not loike thot.”
  26. 26.
    >Mum's legs tremble as she rises from the sofa.
  27. 27.
    >The cane does little to steady her.
  28. 28.
    >“Nahhh, course not,” she says, hobbling over to you. “Ah’m sure Voinyl’s a very respectable young man an’ not some loiterin’ cryptid what smells loike wet denim an’ Monster Energy.”
  29. 29.
    “Mum!”
  30. 30.
    >She stares daggers at you before squinting her eyes, trying to read your face in the dim light of the apartment, searching for any trace of shame.
  31. 31.
    >“Wot kinda naime IS Voinyl? Sounds loike ’e were assembled in a record shop.”
  32. 32.
    “He’s…”
  33. 33.
    >You swallow at the lie, but follow it with another.
  34. 34.
    “H-he’s in a band.”
  35. 35.
    >“OF COURSE ’E’S IN A BAND!” balks Mum, bringing the back of her hand up to her forehead.
  36. 36.
    “Mum, why’re yew awrways bein’ loike this!?”
  37. 37.
    >“Because Ah raised yew fer years just fer yew t’run off wiv woon pale bastard built loike a Victorian chimney sweep wiv tats on ‘im!!”
  38. 38.
    “Yew’re bein’ dramatic.”
  39. 39.
    >She gasps at the accusation.
  40. 40.
    >“Dramatic!? OCTAVIA, yew vanished fer six bloody hours wiv a man named VOINYL! Thot sounds loike the first ten minutes of a murder documentary!”
  41. 41.
    “We just went fer lunch…”
  42. 42.
    >“Did ’e pay?”
  43. 43.
    “...No.”
  44. 44.
    >“ROIGHT. So ’e’s a bum, too!”
  45. 45.
    “Mum, please…”
  46. 46.
    >And on it went for another fifteen.
  47. 47.
    >By the time you make it to your room, you have a lump in your throat, but take pride denying your mother the satisfaction in seeing you cry.
  48. 48.
    >As a matter of fact, you haven't cried in about six years.
  49. 49.
    >Maybe it’s become harder to cry now that you’re older, and maybe it's become harder than it should; you don't know for sure.
  50. 50.
    >Sometimes, you worry that there will come a day when you want to cry, but will not be able to.
  51. 51.
    >For now, you lie down on your bed, phone in hand with your contacts open, tapping on Vinyl’s name.
  52. 52.
    >You phone her.
  53. 53.
     
  54. 54.
    >Vinyl Scratch has spent years assaulting her ears with Dubstep, Techno remixes, and, lately, something called Jenkemcore.
  55. 55.
    >All of this via her phone’s bluetooth connection to her wireless “Deftphones” (they’re *exactly* what you think they are, by the way).
  56. 56.
    >However, this often presents a problem to Vinyl Scratch in that whenever she is phoned, it is always in the middle of her music.
  57. 57.
    >Or, as she likes to put it, “mid-WUB.”
  58. 58.
    >And so, many a times a day, callers of the ambitious DJ/MC/WUBMASTER are treated to her quick, hasty, scalding answer on the other end of the line.
  59. 59.
    >It is a vicious, flat-toned syllable, harsh as an anvil fallen from the sky: “WHAT.”
  60. 60.
    >Never said as a question, either; always a command, one with the utmost venom behind it.
  61. 61.
    >Of course, being the friend you are, you’ve mentioned to Vinyl that she can, in fact, turn her ringer off.
  62. 62.
    >But hope is a foolish thing; it makes you wait for that one special caller who’ll magically book you a gig at the clubs downtown.
  63. 63.
    >Even if the first thing she’ll say to the bookee is that same, awful “WHAT.”
  64. 64.
    >Which makes what happens next all the more strange.
  65. 65.
    >As you put your phone on speaker, waiting to hear that same old ‘WHAT”, you donot.
  66. 66.
    >Instead, the dial tone continues to ring.
  67. 67.
    >And it rings…
  68. 68.
    >And it rings…
  69. 69.
    >And it rings…
  70. 70.
    >...Until, finally, there is an answer.
  71. 71.
    >“Oh, shit, I think I just answered the— Uh, h-hey! Hello! Uh, this is Vinyl’s phone here, her brother speaking!”
  72. 72.
    >You nearly double take.
  73. 73.
    “Anon? Is thot yew?”
  74. 74.
    >“Oh, shit! Octavia?What’s, uh, what’s, what’s, uhhh…wassup?”
  75. 75.
    >Putting aside the frantic, breathless tone in his voice, you swear you hear something in the background of…of wherever he is.
  76. 76.
    “Oh, ah, not much wiv me, really. Just, ah... wonderin’ if Ah could ’ave a word wiv Voinyl, yeh? She, um…she ain’t busy, is she?”
  77. 77.
    >What the fuck is going on over there?
  78. 78.
    >You hear banging.
  79. 79.
    >And music.
  80. 80.
    >Well, what Vinyl calls music, of course.
  81. 81.
    >Jenkemcore, perhaps?
  82. 82.
    >Anon grunts before answering.
  83. 83.
    >“Gah! Uh, we’re…I-I mean, I’m…she’s a little—uff!—occupied at the moment, I think!”
  84. 84.
    >“ˢᶜᴿᴬᵀᶜᴴ ᵐᵉ ᴰᴱᴱᴾᴱᴿ ᵗʰᵃn ᵐʸ ᴹᴵˣᵀᴬᴾᴱˢ ᴼᴴᴴᴴ ʸᴱᴬᴴ!”
  85. 85.
    >Strange music indeed.
  86. 86.
    >Sounds a tad like scream-o!
  87. 87.
    >Lord knows it’s just as easy to parse…
  88. 88.
    “Oh, no worries,” you tell Anonymous. “Um, d’you reckon yew know when she’ll be free, then?”
  89. 89.
    >“Uh, whew! G-goddamn… Uh, did, did she… Um, didn't you guys just have lunch together?...”
  90. 90.
    “Yeh, we just saw each uvver about ’alf an hour ago, but—”
  91. 91.
    >“ᴹᴼᴿᴱ! ᴴᴬᴿᴰᴱᴿ! ᴹᵃᵏᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠᵘᶜᵏin’ nᵉiᵍʰᵇᵒʳˢ ᶠᴱᴱᴸ ᵗʰiˢ ᴮᴱᴬᵀ!”
  92. 92.
    “Wot’s that?”
  93. 93.
    >“ʸᴱᴬᴴᴴᴴᴴ, ᵗʰᵃᵗ'ˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᴰᴿᴼᴾ ʳiᵍʰᵗ ᵀᴴᴱᴿᴱ, ᵍiᵐᵐᵉ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᵈiᶜᵏ—ᶠᵁᶜᴷ!”
  94. 94.
    >“Nothing!” coughs Anonymous. “Just, um…just allergies. And moving furniture. That’s the, uh, creaking y-you might be hearing.”
  95. 95.
    >He coughs again.
  96. 96.
    >“Uh, look, I can give her a call for you, if ya want.”
  97. 97.
    “Luv, yer usin’ ’er phone roight now,” you remind him.
  98. 98.
    >“ᴳᴬᴴ! ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ᴿᴱᵂᴵᴿᴵᴺᴳ ᵐᵉ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵗʰᵉ ᴵᴺˢᴵᴰᴱ-ᴴᴼᴴ-ᴸᴱᴱ ᶠᵁᶜᴷ!”
  99. 99.
    “Oi, Anon, wot's thot yew? Yew alroight? Yew sound a bit outta breath, yeh? Ah ain’t caught yew in the middle o’ summat, ’ave Ah?”
  100. 100.
    >“What? N-no! I…Uh…fff…yeah, s-sorry, um. I-I’m kinda in a tight spot right now, soifyadon’tmindI’mgonnagoand—”
  101. 101.
    >“ᴰᵘᵈᵉ, ʲᵘˢᵗ ˢᵃʸ ʸᵒᵘ’ʳᵉ ᵈᵒinᵍ iᵗ ʷiᵗʰ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ᵍiʳˡ!”
  102. 102.
    >“Uh, um, ᵒᵏᵃʸ, ᵇᵘᵗ ʷʰ—”
  103. 103.
    >“ˢᵃʸ iᵗ'ˢ ᴿᵃʳiᵗʸ. ᴵᵗ'ˡˡ ᵇᵉ ᶠᵘnnʸ. ᴺʸᵉʰ-ʰᵉʰ-ʰᵉʰ-ʰᵉʰ-ᴴᴼᴴ-ᴸᴱᴱ ᶠᵁᶜᴷ, ᴿᴵᴳᴴᵀᵀᴴᴱᴿᴱ! ʸᴱᴬᴴ, ʸᴱᴬᴴ, ᵀᴴᴬᵀ'ˢ ᴬ ᴳᴼᴼᴰ ᴬᴺᴳᴸᴱ!”
  104. 104.
    “Oh, ’ang on a mo’. Think ah jus’ ’eard Voinyl! Was thot ’er jus’ now?”
  105. 105.
    >“Uh…”
  106. 106.
    >“ᶠᵘᶜᵏ iᵗ.”
  107. 107.
    >You hear rustling against the receiver as the phone is snatched from Anonymous and into to hands of…
  108. 108.
    >“Yo, Tavi! I am LITERALLY FUCKING MY ACTUAL BRO right now, so you can either JUMP THE FUCK IN or CALL ME THE FUCK LATER. Love ya, babe!”
  109. 109.
    >*click*
  110. 110.
    >...
  111. 111.
    >Blimey.
  112. 112.
     
  113. 113.
    ELSEWHERE:
  114. 114.
     
  115. 115.
    >“Wow, dude, way to sound like a fuckin’ nerd on the phone,” says Vinyl.
  116. 116.
    “Yeah, well, whatcha gonna do?” you ask, shoulders shrugging under her bed covers.
  117. 117.
    >Your sister tilts her head, peeking at you from her pillow.
  118. 118.
    >“Aren’t you gonna hit me back with something?” she teases.
  119. 119.
    “Honestly,” you say, cozying up against her warm, naked body beneath the comforter, “it’s kinda hard to feel self-conscious when I know how good I give it to you.”
  120. 120.
    >“No fuck-boy talk,” jokes Vinyl. “You’re no good at it, dude.”
  121. 121.
    “Nah?” you ask.
  122. 122.
    >“Nah,” laughs Vinyl.
  123. 123.
    “Nah?” you ask again, laughing with her now as you sneak your head into the crook of her neck. “Damn, Viney, gonna go and teach me some more moves, then?”
  124. 124.
    >Vinyl’s laughs only get louder, perking in pitch with each of your tickling love bites.
  125. 125.
    >“Ha! Dude, as if I even need to. I fucking know *exactly* how to get you off.”
  126. 126.
    “Mm-hm? And why’s that?” you wonder, slipping your hand behind her neck as you move on top of her.
  127. 127.
    >And she looks up at you with those smoldering eyes and says, “Because I’m the best fuck you’ll ever have, bro.”
  128. 128.
    >You kiss.
  129. 129.
    >“Right back at ya, sis.”
  130. 130.
    >There’s no argument between you, no debate to be had, for this was all true: you are each other’s best.
  131. 131.
    >Just as you are indeed brother and sister.
  132. 132.
     
  133. 133.
     
  134. 134.
    _______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
  135. 135.
    Also, I just wanted to add that Octavia and her mum’s voice is based on the Northumbrian dialect I’ve heard spoken from Alan Moore. However, as I am not a native to the country of Prince Andrew’s Brit-Bongistan, I would appreciate it if any of you wonderful Pakistanis might attest to the accuracy of the dialect as I have so tirelessly tried to recreate it. I hope you all have your loicenses to post, and remember: while Elton John might play better than Billy Joel, Billy Joel is the better artist overall. He also doesn’t fuck little boys, either. At least you are not French. Ta.
  136. 136.
     
  137. 137.
    I've not written a green in a very long time, so I apologize if it is not up to standard. It has been so long, I've actually forgotten the password to my old Ponepaste. If any of you are interested in reading my old greens, I'd encourage you to subject yourselves to them at this link:
  138. 138.
    https://ponepaste.org/user/Beans4U
  139. 139.
     
  140. 140.
    Feedback would be appreciated.

On The End of The Line

by I_wanna_dies_sama

My old PonePaste greens

by I_wanna_dies_sama