#with a lot more questions and maybe just a little bit wiser and lighter | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lexibugsblog · 4 years

Text

Sharing with Strangers

WARNINGS: N/A, cuddles and fluff

Arvin One Shot

This is my first fan fiction I've ever written so please be gentle :D

Arvin makes it to Cincinnati and gets dropped off at a diner

A red Volkswagen pulls up outside, a man in a baseball cap with a duffel bag throw over his shoulder steps out waving at the other man before he drives off. I look at the clock on the opposite side of the wall, 3:23 A.M. The bell chimes above the door as he strolls in, worn baseball cap still hiding his face.

“Hi, welcome in!” I regenerate my normal greeting. I grab my notepad and make my way over to him,

“What can I getcha’?”

“Just coffee.” He states quietly, glancing out at me from the corner of his eye. “Coming right up,” I notify him, giving him a smile. Once I prepare the coffee I bring it over to him, setting it down on a napkin. “Thank you,” he mutters, this time his head looks up for a split second. I turn to walk away, but he looked in need of some company and there was only one other guest, asleep at a corner booth towards the back of the diner, so I slide into the corner booth across from him. He finally looks up at me, mouth agape. “How long have you been on the road?” I inquire.

“How did you-” he takes off his cap, his mused hair adding to his disheveled appearance.

“You look like haven’t had a good meal or a good sleep in a minute,” I explain, he seems a bit taken back at this point, maybe insecure about how he looked, but he shouldn’t be, even worn to the bone he looked drop-dead handsome.

“So, are you running away from something or to it?”

“Take a guess,” he smiles playfully before taking a sip of his coffee. I laugh a little, lacing my fingers together on the table. I purse my lips, taking him in, his chocolate eyes watching me, awaiting my response. “Running away,”

“Why do you guess that?”

“Your eyes,” I explain, he laugh awkwardly breaking eye contact at that moment.” You have tired eyes, full of woe, not hope, at least not as much as someone who would be running to something. Also, you were hitchhiking, so it must have been abrupt and really bad whatever it is your running form.” His eyes then flicker back up at me for a moment, nearly brimming with tears. My heart sunk to my stomach, “I’m so sorry! I really didn’t mean to-” I begin apologizing profusely, getting up from the booth.

“No, no really it’s okay,” he gestures back to the booth,” Please stay.” I hesitate as he sniffles, running his hands over his face, pushing away any water that was on the verge of spilling out. “Please.” He says on last time before I take my seat across from him again. “I really am sorry.” I declare one last time. “It’s okay, really,” He assures me, “Its just been a long drive.” I nod, shifting in my seat, trying to break the uncomfortable silence without overstepping again.

“Where are you headed, if you don’t mind my asking.” I preface this time.

“I don’t know. The man that picked me up said he was headed here, so I’m here.”

“Where were you coming from?” he opened his mouth to speak, a name on the edge of his lips be he stopped himself, thinking on the answer, “A small town, on the other side of Ohio” I laugh softly to myself. He smiles back at me, eyebrow raised in confusion, “What? You don’t believe me?”

“Nothing,” I smile pushing my hair out of my face, “You just really have this whole ‘handsome mysterious stranger’ thing down pat. You show up at three in the morning to a 24/7 diner, ball cap shielding your face, duffel bag slung over your shoulder. Then when asked where you’re from, you give the vaguest answer a person could get.” He chuckles, once again running his hand through his hair, “You think I’m handsome?” he flirts halfheartedly. I let out a laugh, blush filling both our cheeks as he laughs along with me. He had a beautiful laugh, much lighter then he himself seemed to be. This time, even once our laughter died down, the silence didn’t seem as uncomfortable as before.

“Look,” I prompt, “how about I make you some food, on the house, I get off at five and we can go back to my place.” he seemed in awe of this offer, hell I was a bit in awe of my offering, but something about him seemed different. I’ve lived in this city my entire life, I had met a lot of people most of them questionable at best, but he had something about him that made him seem like a genuinely good person. “It’s not a lot but its a real bed, at least for the night.”

“I’d really appreciate that.” he finally answered after a beat.

“Okay,” I give him a nod and a smile before getting up from the booth to prepare him some burger and fries. Time ticked by quickly after he finished eating and I finished cleaning up it was nearly time to go. I finish packing up my sketchbook, and art supplies that had been laid out on the counter before he’d come in when Sarah finally comes in to relieve me. I grab my backpack before heading over to his booth to let him know we could go. “What’s your name by the way?” I ask as he slides out of the booth.

“Arvin, my names Arvin,” he states as he throws his duffel bag over his shoulder. “I’m Y/N, it’s nice to meet your Arvin.”

The walk back to my apartment was quiet, I began overthinking things. What if he was some crazy person, I sneak a glance at him, what if he murders me or something once we get back to my place. How could I even begin to politely retract my offer, he looks over at me a shy smile on his lips, as his hand tightens around the strap of his bag. Before I could say anything, we were at my apartment,

“This is it,” I tell him, as I begin fumbling for my keys. “Hey,” he stops me, “If you’re uncomfortable I can find a motel.” He gives me a sympathetic smile and once again my heart wrenches looking into his bloodshot eyes. He’s been through it, I don’t know exactly what it was but I could tell he needed a little human kindness.

“No, I’m not, just promise...promise you won’t, like, murder me or anything?” I propose, he chuckles sticking out his pinky finger, “I promise,” he says, as I wrap my pinky around his. We both smile inwardly as I finally find the apartment key. After walking up a couple flights of stairs, I open the door to my place, flicking on the lights, as we enter. I sit my things down on the small kitchen island, I shove my hands in the pockets of my bib, becoming a little insecure myself as he looked around. I hated the color of these walls, it must have once been a vibrant orange but over the years has become dull, the pale yellow overhead light not helping. The covers of my bed disheveled, I’d always meant to get into the habit of making it but I never did. He then sat his bag down, moving over to the large window the by the bed, he looked out it,

“I’m going to change real quick,” I inform him as I meddle through my closet for my pj’s “Feel free to make yourself at home.” I gesture to the whole one room of my apartment. I quickly change into a sweater, shorts, and some comfortable socks before exiting the bathroom only to find him staring at my painting sitting the easel.

“That’s not finished,” I explain, biting my thumbnail, watching him admire the unfinished painting of a naked woman.

“This is really good.” he compliments. It could be better. It isn’t until he turns around, I stop looking at all the imperfections of the painting and I actually look at him, no more jacket, baseball cap, or even shoes, he looked perfectly at home, as if he was made to be here, at this moment. I wished i could capture this image forever, it almost felt like a dream.

“Thank you,” I finally say, remembering he paid me a compliment just a moment ago. I shake my head of all the thoughts swirling around in my head as I begin to turn the bed down for him. “I’ll take the couch,” I say pulling the throw blanket off the back of it.

“Definitely not,” he states firmly.

“What?”

“I’ll take the couch, I’m the guest.”

“Which is exactly why you get the bed.”

“I’m not letting you-”

“Look,” I interrupt him for the second time tonight, “I promised you a bed to sleep in tonight, and that what you’re going to get,” I say firmly, he presses his lips together in defeat. “We could share?” my cheeks flushed at the thought, but with my back to him he was none the wiser.” I mean, if that’s okay, I don’t want to make you feel weird or anything, I just..” he begins stumbling over his words, causing a smile to pull on my lips. “Okay,” I say finally turning to him.

“Okay.” he agrees his lips pulled together in a tight smile. As he settles into bed I turn out the lights before joining him. At first, we both lay on our backs, neither of us saying anything. Eventually, I began to hear the patter of rain against the window, and his breathing became more shallow. I finally look over at him for a moment, the neon lights of the outside shining onto him, he really is beautiful, this is the last thought that passes through my mind before drifting off.

I wake up the next morning to the sound of a heartbeat thudding in my ear. As I come to I realize my leg is flung across his hips, and his arms are snaked around my body. Part of me felt like I should be freaking out, I only met him yesterday, but a big part of me couldn’t deny how natural and comforting this felt like this was how things were meant to be. Not long after he finally woke, realizing our position he quickly lifts his hands from my body, not all the way, just hovering above where they were.“Im not uncomfortable.” I simply say, and with that his hands return, tightening even. Yeah, this is good.

Once we finally get up from bed, he takes a quick shower I make us breakfast. He comes out of the bathroom in the same disheveled clothes from yesterday before sitting on a stool at the island. I set a plate of pancakes and bacon in front of him before taking a seat beside him with my own plate.”So, whats next?” I prompt. He takes a bit, thinking about the question for a moment. Selfishly I knew what I wanted his answer to be, but also I could tell he’d been on a long journey before he’d out into the stranger’s van that brought him to hear, and he had a long one left to go. He finally swallows and looks over at me, a boyish grin plastered onto his face, “I think I might stay here for a while if you’ll have me.” I toothy smile spread across my face, he may not be around for long, but I was more then happy to be part of his story, even if just for a little while.

#oneshot #arvin russel x reader #arvin russell #the devil all the time #fanfic #fanfiction #fluff #tom holland #netflix #diner aesthetic #artchick

219 notes · View notes

alice-beaumont-ravenclaw · 4 years

Text

From Paris, with Love

A/N #1: Part 7 of my Celestial Ball series is here! In this fic, we meet Alice’s french grandmother and learn a bit more about her family... Anyway, here are the other parts of the series: You’ve Got a Friend in Me | Distraction | Something There | One Step Closer | Fashion Emergency | Get Your Head in the Game | Der Walzer von Alice | Of Quidditch and Ballgowns (there’s a sketch of the dress at the end of that fic)

-----------------------

The Celestial Ball was fast approaching and Alice had yet to see her gown. Andre had taken her measurements a few days after they had selected the style, and she knew he was working on it, based on the plasters that were appearing on his fingers as the days went by. She also knew he had already made Charlie’s dress robes, as Charlie’s excitement was apparent during one of their dance rehearsals.

“You’ll see it on the day of the ball, but I’ll give you a hint so you can imagine how amazing it is: Dragons!” he had said as they waltzed with the other prefects.

Alice was pretty sure he was more excited about the dragon part of his robes than the robes themselves. Lost in those thoughts as she watched the first snow falling from a window in the common room, she didn’t hear Andre barging in and coming towards her.

“Alice!” he exclaimed, standing right next to her.

“What?!” she said, turning her head towards him, her eyes wide in shock.

“Your dress is ready!”

“Really? Can I see it?” asked Alice, excited.

“Well, of course. We need to choose your accessories!” said Andre as he dragged her out of the common room.

“Accessories? I don’t think I brought many with me… Unless you put some in my trunk without my knowledge…” replied Alice, looking at her friend suspiciously.

“No, of course, I didn’t. I didn’t know there was going to be a ball. No… I invited someone over to help us with that,” replied Andre, looking away.

“Invited someone here? At Hogwarts? Was Dumbledore okay with that?”

“Well, seems like they know each other, so yeah, he was fine with it,” he replied as they stopped in front of a door.

“Who the hell does Dumbledore know that could help with accessories?” asked Alice as she opened the door. The person she saw inside the room made her stop dead in her tracks.

That person was a tall and slender elderly woman with regal beauty. Her white hair was in a French twist, and she was wearing a navy Chanel skirt suit. When her piercing blue eyes met Alice’s green ones, a small smile appeared on her lips.

“Alice, ma chérie!” she said as she approached Alice before giving her two kisses on each cheek.

“Grand-maman?” said Alice, too startled to reciprocate the bise as she stared at Andre.

“Yeah, well, I wrote to your mother regarding pieces of jewelry to go with the dress, but the letter I got back was from your French grandmother…” started explaining Andre while fidgeting with his hands. “She told me she would come to Hogwarts with a selection of jewelry we could choose from.”

“Albus was so nice to let me come! He hasn’t changed at all! I will go have tea with him while you two choose what you need! But before I go, Alice, j’ai quelquechose pour toi,” said her grandmother as she opened up a little box. Inside was a tiara adorned with stars and celestial waves. Strings were attached to it to fasten it to the wearer’s head.

“Une tiare?” said Alice, slightly frowning.

“Oui, bon, ça peut l’être, but you can wear as a headband or at ze back of your head. I asked my… hum… how do you say ‘joaillier’… Jeweller! Yes, well, I asked him to make something versatile zat could be worn in different ways because my granddaughter does not like wearing classic tiaras.”

“Wait! You had this made especially for the occasion? It’s too much, I can’t…” started saying Alice before being interrupted by Andre.

“It will look amazing with the dress!” he exclaimed.

“Andre…” muttered Alice, trying to get him to calm down, in vain.

“I know! When I saw the sketches you had sent my daughter-in-law, I knew my favourite jeweller would be able to create something wonderful!”

“Sketches?” asked Alice, looking at Andre with a raised eyebrow. “Plural?”

“Yes, I also sent a sketch of the shoes I made,” explained Andre.

“Shoes? You made shoes?”

“Didn’t I tell you? Guess I forgot. Anyway, thank you so much Mrs. Beaumont!”

“Please, it was no problem at all! Now, I will leave you to it while I go see Albus,” she said, waving as she left the room.

“I can’t believe she knows Dumbledore… Then again, I shouldn’t be surprised,” said Alice as she stared at the now-closed doors.

“How come?” asked Andre as he started opening the jewelry cases.

“Well, Dumbledore knows a lot of people, and so does my grandmother,” said Alice turning toward the jewelry.

“Oh, Merlin!” exclaimed Andre as he looked, wide-eyed, upon all the glittering pieces of jewelry laid out in front of him.

“Honestly, that’s just showing off,” grumbled Alice as she looked on, rolling her eyes.

“I’m sure she just wants you to have as much to choose from,” said Andre, who was already covered in jewelry.

“Maybe, but she likes to remind people of who she is,” said Alice as she took a pair of very small crescent moon stud earrings covered with white pavé diamonds and set it aside.

“She likes people to know she’s a Beaumont?” asked Andre, admiring the rings on his fingers.

“Not exactly… The Beaumonts are a very reputable family in France, but…” she started saying, before pursing her lips. “Anyway,” she interrupted herself, “you haven’t shown me my dress or my shoes yet. How am I supposed to make a decision if I don’t see what I’m going to wear?”

“Oh! You’re right!” Andre said, getting up from the table he was sitting up. Pushing a screen to the side, he revealed the dress and the shoes.

“Oh, Andre! It’s simply gorgeous!” said Alice as she looked at the dress and shoes.

The sleeveless dress was covered in sparkles, except for the black shoulder straps. From the waist, it was a dark blue, and the blue got lighter as it got closer to the edge of the dress. From the waist up, the material was very thin, making the blue of it appear very light against the nude lining of the bodice. There was a little bit of tulle under the skirt to give it some volume, but not too much. The shoes were high-heeled sandals with butterfly wings at the back. They were in sparkling silver and navy blue, with a cross ankle strap and glittering stars.

“So… You like it?” asked Andre as Alice touched the skirt of her dress.

“Like it? I love it! It goes with the theme, but not in an ostentatious manner!” replied Alice.

“I’m so glad you like it,” said Andre, smiling. “Now, let’s go back to the jewelry and you can tell me everything about your grandmother.”

“Ugh… Do I have to?” asked Alice, making her way back to the jewelry case.

“Well, I’m intrigued. Such a stylish and regal woman, and it doesn’t have to do with the Beaumonts, but, I’m guessing, her side of the family,” said Andre, taking out a diamond bangle with moons and stars, and putting it with the earrings Alice had put aside.

Alice let out a sigh. “Fine… Before being Aurore Beaumont, she was born Aurore Valois, from the Capetian dynasty.”

“Is that supposed to ring a bell?” asked Andre, raising an eyebrow.

“Outside of France, probably not. In France, the Capetian dynasty is also known as the House of France. Starting with Hugues Capet, a King of France in the 10th century. All the Kings of France after that were his descendants. All the way down to Louis-Phillipe 1er. Technically, the Valois branch was considered extinct in 1589 and was succeeded by the Bourbons. But that’s on the Muggle side of the family. On the wizard branch, the Valois kept going. The first wizard of that line may not be entirely legitimate, but that didn’t seem to matter at the time. So they managed to maintain a certain level of influence in the wizarding world as well as in the Muggle world. In the Muggle world, they are seen as just vaguely being related to the House of France, but even that is enough to impress. France may be a Republic, but they do treat descendants of French noble families with deference,” explained Alice, looking at a necklace paved with diamonds in white gold. “Boucheron, of course,” she mumbled as she looked at the clasp, putting it with the earrings and the bracelet.

“Wow… That’s… detailed,” said Andre, staring at his friend.

“Yes, well, I have heard the story many times, and believe me, that was a summary. All this to say, my grandmother can be a bit of a showoff. She won’t say it, because it is just vulgar to do so, but she will make people feel how important she is.”

“Is that why you never told us? Because it’s vulgar?” asked Andre, smirking.

“What? Of course not. By now, you should know it’s not something I care about,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Honestly, I kinda regret muttering about my grandmother. If I hadn’t said anything, you wouldn’t have asked anything, and you would be none the wiser.”

“Oh, even without your mumbling, I would’ve asked questions. Like, why is she wearing Muggle clothes? Why didn’t you tell me you had such a stylish grandma? Can I come with you next time you visit your French family?”

“Yeah… Figures. She wears Muggle clothes because she likes them. She personally knew Coco Chanel and Christian Dior. I didn’t tell you because, why would I? And I guess you can come with me next time I go to France, though I don’t see why,” answered Alice, smirking as she rolled her eyes. Andre could be so predictable sometimes, hence why seeing her grandmother had shocked her. She knew that Andre would be curious about her, would want to know more about her. It was better if he asked his questions in an empty classroom than in a room full of other people that might ask questions themselves. “Now that I’ve answered your questions, you have to promise me to not breathe a word about it. It’s bad enough that people stare at me because I’m the ‘Curse-Breaker,’ let’s not add ‘French Royalty’ to the mix. I definitely don’t want Charlie to act even more strangely around me.”

Andre stopped what he was doing and stared at her. Was she on the verge of realizing her feelings for Charlie Weasley?

“I mean, ever since he saw my house in London, he’s been acting strange, as if the fact my family is well-off disturbed him. I’m pretty sure that if he hadn’t seen my house, he would have asked me to the ball way sooner. We are friends and prefects, after all, so it was the logical thing to do, but took him so long to ask me, I was on the verge of doing it myself!” exclaimed Alice.

“So… You would have asked him to the ball if he hadn’t? You wouldn’t have asked someone else, like, say… Barnaby?” asked Andre, doing his best to hide his smile.

“Barnaby? Well, if Charlie had asked someone else, then I would have asked Barnaby, but he’s not a prefect, he doesn’t NEED someone to dance with. Charlie and I were in the same predicament, so it just made sense to go together.”

“Yeah, but if none of you were prefects, who would you have asked to the ball?” probed Andre.

“No one. I would just have gone to the ball with all my friends,” said Alice as she started to close the jewelry cases.

“Ugh… You are hopeless,” muttered Andre.

“What did you say?” asked Alice, closing the last jewelry case.

“Nothing, nothing…” replied Andre just as Alice’s grandmother entered the room.

“So, you have found everyzing zat you needed?” she asked, looking at the closed cases.

“Yes, thank you. Very nice of you to come all this way,” said Alice with a stiff smile plastered on her face.

“As I said, it was no problem at all. Gave me a chance to catch up with Albus. He told me very interesting zings about you,” her grandmother replied. With a flick of her wand, all the cases floated towards her open purse and got inside it.

“I can imagine…” grumbled Alice.

“I was also very happy to see you,” she said, kissing her granddaughter’s forehead. “You haven’t visited Paris nor Sarrians in a while. You should come next summer.”

“Sure…” replied Alice.

“Andre, it was a pleasure meeting you,” said Aurore, turning to the other Ravenclaw. “I’m sure you will be a great fashion designer one day.”

“Oh! Thanks, but I actually want to be a Quidditch player,” replied Andre proudly.

“Really?” replied the elderly lady as she looked back at the dress. “Quel gaspillage… Oh, well, I hope you enjoy the ball. Au revoir!”

After she had left, Alice started placing the jewelry they had chosen in a little velvet pouch until Andre suddenly realized something. “We forgot to choose a ring!”

“I have one,” said Alice, unperturbed as she tightened the strings of the little pouch.

“You picked one? I didn’t see it,” pointed out Andre, rubbing his chin.

“Already had it. A white gold eternity ring with blue coloured stones. Parents gave it to me after I was sorted into Ravenclaw,” explained Alice as they left the room.

“Are you sure it’s going to work with everything else?” asked Andre.

“It will,” replied Alice as they stood at the entrance of the Great Hall and could see their friends eating and happily chatting. “Now, remember what I told you. Not a word about my grandmother or her background to anyone, or your chance of ever coming to Paris with me will be null.”

“An empty threat. You didn’t look like you wanted to go visit your grandparents in France,” pointed out Andre.

“Well, maybe I’ll change my mind, especially if I know it’s something I can hold over your head,” said Alice, a sly smile appearing on her face as she made her way toward her friends.

“There are days when I think she should be in Slytherin…” mumbled Andre to himself before following her inside.

-----------------

A/N #2: Hope you enjoyed. I was loosely inspired by the 2018 HPHM Fictober prompt “First Snow” (loosely as in “the story does not revolve around it, but that prompt led me to write this fic”). So the main fic of the series is approaching... Which means I’ll have to write a ball scene with dancing and everything. If anyone has tips on how to write a ball scene, let me know. (I may have looked at the various ball scenes in War & Peace...)

#hphm fanfic #hogwarts mystery fanfic #hphm mc #hogwarts mystery oc #jacob’s sibling #alice beaumont #andre egwu #aurore beaumont #charlie weasley x alice beaumont #hphm fictober #hphm #hogwarts mystery

19 notes · View notes

chinuppoppins · 5 years

Photo

“They’re good,” Daenerys smiles as Jon wraps an arm around her waist. She watches her twins welcome people through the gates of New Valyria. “They are the best thing I’ve ever done.”

“You mean the best thing we’ve ever done.” Jon points out. “I mean I did have a hand in making them, and raising them.”

“Mm, alright, but I did birth them after being mortally wounded and raised them by myself for the first three years as you wallowed around Winterfell.” Daenerys corrects and Jon scoffs. “Yeah, never going to let you live that one down.”

“It’s your fault for not telling me until they were three.” Jon snips and Daenerys rolls her eyes.

“And how could I be sure that you weren’t going to announce it to Sansa who would then announce it to Tyrion who would then announce it to the world. Didn’t much feel like having lions at my doorstep, I despise cats.”

Jon opens his mouth to defend himself but then snaps his shut when he gets a look from his wife. “Well, at least you like dogs.”

“Only one dog, maybe two if we are fair.” Daenerys teases, her eyes up on the sky where four dragons circle above.

Jon smiles adoringly at his wife, the scar of where she had been stabbed very visible in the dress she was wearing today. He remembered the fight of King’s Landing, how Drogon tour down the walls for everyone to get in, how she destroyed every single single scorpion that had been invited to kill her dragon. But most of all, he remembers the final trap Cersei had set for them, something so unexpected that it shocked Daenerys to the core. He remembered a bell tolling, a surrender being called and then an unholy sound filling the sky. Jon watched as Drogon let out a roar in defiance, went to burn the bell and when he did, Wildfire ignited and turned the entire city and its people to ash. The survivors were lucky to get out and the whole incident broke Daenerys. The people blamed her, said that she ordered her dragon to destroy the city. He would never forget the look on her face when the dagger was plunged into her chest, or how Drogon screeched something terribly and flew off with his mother’s body. It was only years later that people found out that Cersei had the wildfire that Aerys buried under in city’s sewage system connected to barrels and barrels that were stored in the bell tower, not to mention that Euron Greyjoy had been in the belltower, with the last dragon horn. A last attempt of a fuck you from Cersei Lannister.

Though here they were now, seventeen years after The Last War. Both a little older, both a little wiser and still so much in love. Daenerys had taken a backseat to ruleling, but helped in the building of a New Valyria. She welcomed the lost and the weary, the refugees from Essos and Westeros, the old and the young and the once Lords and Ladies. However, they didn’t expect a certain Lady and Lord to show up until she heard a voice from behind her.

“This is a nice village you have here,” Jon and Daenerys both turn their heads to see Tyrion Lannister standing behind them and at his side was Sansa. Jon glanced over at his wife as she squeezed his hand a little tighter. “It’s very kind of you, building a place like this for those who have nothing.” Tyrion went on, looking at a woman he once called queen. “And you,” His gaze turned to Jon. “We all thought you were missing, leaving winterfell and not telling a soul where you were. It was Bran who informed us years later. Though I can see why you left, we all thought you were dead, Daenerys.”

“Do I look dead to you?” Daenerys questioned. “You did a terrible job trying, my lord.” Jon was fully aware that both Tyrion and Sansa could see the angry scar that Dany proudly showed off.

“That is my king to you, Daenerys.” Sansa butts in as Dany laughs.

“A foreign king, not my king.” Dany corrects as the dragons screech from above, making Tyrion and Sansa look towards the sky in shock.

“I see you have more of those beasts- and I also heard that you mothered some, what do the people call them in Westeros...Dragonspawn.” Sansa remarks.

Jon watches his wife, but she holds her fire in. She smiles sweetly before calling them over. Jon turns his attention now to his cousin and the imp. Their faces are that of shock and he knows why. Laena and Rhaegar are carbon copies of himself and Daenerys, the only difference was that they had his eyes. “Laena, Rhāegār, bisa iksis Sānsa hen Stārke Lentor se bisa iksis Tȳhrion hen Lānistor Lentor. Ivestragon rytsas” His wife addresses their children who solemnly look at Sansa and Tyrion and then back at their mother. Laena looked angry while Rhaegar was annoyed. “Ivestragon rytsas” Dany repeats, brows raised.

“Ao expect nyke naejot sagon polite naejot se vala se ābra bona caused ao ōdres?" Laena grits out, her eyes in slits as she glances back at Sansa and Tyrion.

"Ease aōha perzys, tala. Bona iksin se past, se bisa iksis sir. Gaoman daor expect syt ao both naejot hae zirȳ, mērī naejot respect. Shifang? sir ivestragon rytsas. " Daenerys scolds and Leana looks helplessly at Jon.

“Listen naejot aōha muña" Jon commands and then shakes his head. "Our lentor kessa gaomagon skoros iksis paktot, urnēptre zirȳ se rāpa prūmi ao both emagon. Urnēptre zirȳ bona iksā not- zaldrīzes spawn. Yn zaldrīzes āzma. " Jon explains softly. "let se Vesteros dārys se dāria ūndegon skorkydoso sȳz se lanta hen iksā. "

The two teenagers relatent and Laena’s scowl turns to a smile. “Welcome to Valyria, your grace.” She speaks gracefully and fluidly. “It’s not as massive as the cities you are used to, but with time and prosperity, it will get there.” Laena holds herself in such a way that her mother held herself. With poise and confidence. “I am Laena of House Targaryen and this is-”

“Rhaegar.” He cuts in, and shakes hands with Tyrion. “It’s nice to meet the King and Queen of the land that are parents were born in.”

“That is quite the handshake you have there and you are truly your father’s son. Now you,” Tyrion says, looking over at Laena. “You are the picture of your mother, just as stunning as she is. We’ve heard whispers about you around Westeros, the two of you are very well known around there.”

“I hear some of them call us Dragonspawn?” Laena wistfully says. “Though that stopped once my mother had been found innocent, bet they felt like right pieces of shit after that, huh?”

“Laena!” Daenerys hisses. “Enough,” Dany sighs as she gently cups her daughters face. "Nyke gīmigon bisa iksis qopsa, yn īlon jorrāelagon naejot urnēptre zirȳ iksi drēje. Shifang?"

Laena looks to her brother, who is urging her on and shakes her head. “Kessa, muña”

“Good.” She smiles, kissing her forehead before looking over at Sansa and Tyrion. “Will you be spending some time here? I’m sure a tour would be beneficial. Did you bring your children?” Dany asks.

“Yes, we brought our daughters, Catelyn and Myrcella are waiting at port.” Sansa answers.

“Laena, Rhaegar, why don’t you both go greet them and show them around. Meet us at the the Inn later, there will be a feast.”

To say that Sansa and Tyrion were a bit fearful to follow the Dragon Queen and Jon along the town was an understatement, but as far as they knew, Daenerys was different, happier, lighter. She laughed along with Tyrion as they reminisced a time before everything fell apart. A time before Daenerys crossed the Narrow Sea and later, when they all sat around at dinner, Sansa spoke to the Dragon Queen as Tyrion and Jon spoke about how exactly he learn High Valyrian so well.

“I am a proud woman, Daenerys.” Sansa begins. “And I know that you are as well, when you came to my home, seventeen years ago, I was determined to hate you. A foreign queen coming into my land, taking my home, that is what I thought and that is why I-” She stops, looking uncertainty at the Daenerys. “I told Tyrion the truth about Jon. I should have remembered what it felt like, when I moved south to marry Joffrey, I was lost, treated poorly, felt like an outsider and I should have understood how you were feeling.”

“Sansa,” Dany shakes her head, setting her goblet down. “I am to blame as much as everyone else is. I took no time to get to know the North, or the people of Westeros at all. I just wanted to take and I spiraled, I went down a path that was almost impossible to come back from. I should have taken the time to know you, we do have a lot in common you know.” Sansa raises a brow in confusions. “With men fearing us, trying to tame us in submission and we both survived that and ensured that our daughters would never have to live that life ever.” Dany shakes her head as she watches her twins argue, Laena almost drawing her sword in frustration. “But we are both lucky to find a man who doesn’t wish to tame us. That is my hope for her,” She said nodding towards Laena. “She has so much fire in her, she’s wild.”

“She’s a wolf.” Sansa agrees “And a wolf can’t be tamed.” The two women share a smile for a moment before their eyes are back on their children. “Do you-” Sansa clears her throat. “Do you plan on marrying the two of them to each other? Please, let me know if I crossed a line, I just-”

Daenerys’ face is pink with laughter. “Oh gods no! Those two can barely get on for two minutes, where terrible in the womb together- I swear the made game of kicking each other in there and teased each other terribly when they were children.” Dany smirks as Rhaegar laughs at his sister’s temper and in an attempt to calm her down, gets ale poured over his head. “No, Jon and I decided that the Targaryen tradition ended with us. Our children will marry on their own accord to someone that they love. Does that ease the minds of the people overseas?”

“You shouldn’t have to mind the people overseas.” Sansa says. “Just do what you have been doing and continue raising those children, they are amazing people. You’ve done well for yourself and on behalf of the people of Westeros, I would like to apologize for-”

Daenerys catches her husband’s eye and then shakes her head. “No that is the past, now we need to focus on the future and the generation that our children will lead.”

#jonerys #targlings #jonerys au #jonerys children #the fairytale ending we deserve #faceclaim for the children #holly earl #brenton thwaites #jonerys fanfic

73 notes · View notes

carmenlire · 5 years

Text

Dying to Live

Warning for mentions of depression, self harm, and suicidal thoughts.

read on ao3

“What are you doing out here, darling?”

Alec hears the caution in his husband’s voice, though it’s mostly hidden by warm curiosity. It’s nothing so sharp as fear, nothing accusatory. The question is warm and seeps through Alec’s bones, just starting to thaw from their arctic chill.

He doesn’t answer for a minute, loses himself in watching the scene down below. There’s a child running down the sidewalk with a red balloon. It’s a mostly cloudy day, the sun peeking out in fits and starts, and Alec smiles a little as the mother, just a few steps away, catches up to the girl and swings her up into her arms.

The child’s laughter echoes down the block and is audible even up here on their balcony. Alec closes his eyes to soak it in.

It sounds like happiness. It sounds like peace.

With a shuddering breath, he doesn’t startle when Magnus’s arm wraps around his back, when his husband leans into his side and kisses his cheek, rough with week-old stubble, gently.

“How are you feeling today, Alexander?”

Alec doesn’t immediately open his eyes. Instead, he focuses on his breathing for a few seconds. He’s in a stretched out t-shirt that was once black but is now a washed-out gray. His sweatpants have seen better days and his bare feet are cold against the balcony.

He feels the beat of his heart and the early morning air is crisp and bracing in his lungs. He feels alive.

Opening his eyes, his gaze sweeps across New York before turning to face Magnus. He smiles, just a little, but his eyes are shining with contentment.

“I’m good,” Alec says, voice just a touch hoarse. “I’m better.”

Magnus studies him with a critical air before Alec sees something ease in him. “That’s good, darling,” he says softly. "I'm happy to hear that."

It’s quiet for awhile, both of them lost in their own thoughts.

Magnus thinks about the past week or so. While Alec is immeasurably better than he was a couple of years ago, he still has bad periods. His stumbles have grown few and far between but Magnus had seen the warning signs even before Alec.

His husband had been dragging his feet out of bed. While that wasn’t unusually in and of itself, it was noticeably different in that he didn’t climb out from under the sheets until Magnus kissed him on the back of the neck and murmured that he was about to be late. Alec would then swear, and scramble out of tangled blankets.

He almost looked like he was moving in slow motion, like every step forward was more effort than it was worth. Magnus had watched Alec for a few mornings and his concern only grew in his quiet silences, in the way he seemed a little out of it, not quite connected to the conversation or the world around him. Magnus would gently prod him and Alec seemed to shake himself, taking a moment to reply, to react.

Then there was the way that he just collapsed when he wasn’t working. He’s come home from The Institute and fall onto the couch, barely taking the time to toe off his shoes. Magnus would come home from a consult and find his husband sleeping. If Alec came home early-- which was happening more often than usual-- he’d be napping.

Even in his sleep, though, he frowned. Alec would wake up groggy and annoyed. What was worse, though, was when Magnus found him and he wasn’t sleeping-- he was staring at the blank tv or into the distance. He wouldn’t notice Magnus’s approach, would startle and offer a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

Still another warning sign had been Alec’s utter disinterest in sex. Magnus had initiated it a few times over the course of several weeks and each time had been met with an apologetic grimace.

I’m tired, babe. Maybe tomorrow?

Magnus, of course, had nodded and kissed his darling husband on the cheek. While both of them had turned down sex once in a while, the two of them hadn’t done anything more than kiss in greeting for over a month. It seemed like Alec didn’t have the energy to stand most days, let alone anything else.

Alec has had the past few days off and has spent most of them in bed. At this point, they both knew he was having a bad spell and Magnus had done all he could to keep him afloat. Mostly, when Alec’s like this, he just needs a reminder that someone’s there, that he’s not alone.

Magnus had been a little surprised to wake up and find Alec out of bed. Exploring, his heart had leaped into his throat as he’d seen his husband out on that damned balcony.

Alec didn’t look in the grip of a spiral, though. No, instead he looked contemplative, calm, his gaze clear in a way that it hadn’t been for far longer than Magnus wanted to realize.

The two of them stand at the edge and stare down. There are the usual crowds on the sidewalk and as they study New York, Magnus feels something ease in him. He knows his husband better than anyone else. He knows what Alec looks like when he’s spiraling, when he’s so far down that they’re both worried about him climbing back out.

Releasing a quiet breathe, Magnus knows that they aren’t there-- at least not yet.

The fact that Alec’s outside is a good sign, even if Magnus would burn this goddamn balcony to the ground if he could. The fact that he’d said he was feeling better is the best news Magnus has heard all week.

His thoughts break off, however, as Alec speaks into the silence that’s wrapped around them.

“You know,” he starts, not looking at Magnus but instead focused on the early morning traffic. “Before I met you, I had a lot of bad days. I got pretty good at hiding them, though, so that no one but Jace and maybe Izzy noticed-- and even that was just some of the time. I remember graduation from the academy approaching and wondering if I’d make it until then.”

A chill shivers up Magnus’s spine but he doesn’t say anything, just pulls Alec a little bit closer and listens to his husband’s measured words.

“Then I came back to New York and went on mission after mission. Patrol was freedom but it still wasn’t enough.” Alec’s tongue wets his lips and he draws in a sharp breath that Magnus doesn’t even think he hears. “Sometimes I let demons land a lucky hit. Sometimes it was everything I could do to jump out of the way in time. Sometimes, everything in me screamed to give up-- I could die a heroic death, a shadowhunter's death, and no one would ever be the wiser.”

Gaze unseeing, Alec continues, “There was a long time when I didn’t want to be here. I couldn’t see a future worth a damn and nothing I did-- hanging out with Iz, practicing on the roof, nothing-- was enough to pry this weight off my chest. I thought I was doomed.”

He chuckles but it's bitter and cold and makes Magnus's heart lurch in fear. "I analyzed it rationally-- that's what I told myself-- one night when I was so fucking tired I couldn't see straight. I thought I'd be doing everyone a favor if I just disappeared. I still don't know what stopped me that night. Truth be told, I had a lot of nights like that, where exhaustion pulled at me and I couldn't imagine a good day-- where I couldn't imagine wanting to live."

Blinking furiously, Alec looks up at Magnus and his eyes soften. “But then I met you. Everything wasn’t immediately fixed-- obviously,” he says with an eye roll that makes Magnus smile because it’s more life than he’s seen in his husband in days. “But you made me hope. You made me want to see what life had in store for me-- and I’m here. I’m still here and I’m happy about it.”

He trails off for a for minutes and Magnus leaves him be, a little too focused on dislodging the lump in his throat at Alec’s words. His eyes close when Alec kisses his forehead and their breathing syncs.

“I still have bad days. They catch me off guard sometimes and sometimes it’s still hard-- really hard-- to climb back out. But then I remember that I’m not the person I used to be. I’m not that cold, bitter shadowhunter that wanted to give up. I’m still here and I don’t plan on going anywhere.”

Magnus’s breath catches. It’s nothing he didn’t know. It’s no revelation. But, it’s still nice to hear the words, to hear the conviction and determination in Alec’s voice.

“I woke up this morning and everything felt just a little bit lighter than it had last night. I came out here and the sun is peaking out from behind the clouds and the noise of the city grabbed me by the throat. I’m glad I stayed,” Alec whispers hoarsely. “I’m glad that I fought and I’m glad that I’m still here. There were a lot of tough years but I’m thankful for the person I was because he fought and he’s stronger than he ever realized and it’s because of him that I’m standing out here on a spring morning holding the love of my life. I’m proud of him and I wish that he could have seen this-- just a glimpse at the future that would be his. I wish he could have known that he’d get everything he ever wanted and that it was sweeter than he could’ve ever imagined.”

Magnus blinks and shudders out a breath, doesn’t try to hide the tears as they spill over. He kisses Alec furiously and they both shudder at the taste of salt.

When Magnus pulls back, he sees Alec staring at him with a lifetime full of love and hope and contentment in his eyes.

“Oh my darling,” Magnuns whispers. “I’m proud of him, too. I am so incredibly happy to be here with you now. I love you, Alexander. So much that I can’t imagine my life without you-- and I’m so glad that I’ll never have to even try.”

“I love you too, Magnus. I love you, too.”

Alec’s voice is quiet but fervent and his eyes fall shut as Magnus sweeps a hand through his hair and kisses the top of his head.

The two of them stare over New York and bask in the life they’ve been given. Both are thankful for second chances and hidden strength.

Both count themselves unimaginably happy that their futures look so damned bright.

Magnus and Alec know that life won’t always be sunshine and joy. They both stumble and fall and claw their way back to the land of the living.

But.

They have each other and that makes all the difference.

They have life and never take that for granted.

#dying to live #my writing

121 notes · View notes

strikertheblackdog-blog · 5 years

Text

Striker

The Basics:

Name: Striker Age: Unknown Place of birth: Unknown Current location: Folie a deux Species: Black Dog (guardian type) Powers: Stronger and faster than an average human, better senses (sight, smell, hearing), can shift into a huge black dog at will (unaffected by the moon) Skills: Tracking (even when not shifted), hand-to-hand combat, singing

Physical Appearance:

Eye colour: Blue (human form), red (dog form)

Hair style/colour: Black, longish and sort of disheveled (human form), black, thick, roughly the same length as a Golden Retriever (dog form)

Build: Lean but muscular (human form), big, bulky muscles (dog form)

Usual level of grooming: Somewhat untidy but clean

How he walks: Lazy sort of stroll in human form, confidently in dog form

Distinguishing features (tattoos, scars, birthmarks): A few scars from normal wear and tear: one on his shoulder about 2″ in length from a sharp tree branch, on his left calf there are 5 small puncture scars from being bitten by a wolf during a fight. No tattoos. No birthmarks, only a few freckles here and there in his human form.

Preferred outfit: Jeans, black t-shirt, work boots

Glasses/contacts: none.

Any accessories that are ALWAYS associated with him (cane, pipe, necklace, etc.): Silver lighter with intricate engraving though he doesn’t smoke

Distinguishing “tics” or mannerisms: He likes to roll his knuckles along the wall/fence/whatever is next to him as he walks.

General health: Good health, no issues

Handwriting: Sloppy, barely legible

Speech and Communication

How he talks: Quickly

Style of speech: Average, sometimes a smattering of Scottish slang or different languages thrown in

Accent: Scottish

Posture: Relaxed and casual, usually crosses arms over his chest

Gesturing: Only when agitated or eager

Eye contact: Direct

Preferred curse word: Fuck (it’s very versatile)

Catchphrase: For fuck’s sake

Speech impediments: None

Distinguishing speech “tics”: May pause while he collects his thoughts

What's his laugh like? What does he tend to find funny? Loud, boisterous laugh unless he’s being a little shite about something in which case it’s an evil little chuckle. He finds most things funny, especially when people (read: Vihaan) get pissy about stupid, unimportant things

Describe his smile: (Okay, it’s Sebastian Stan.. it’s radiant and the loveliest of lovely smiles that warms the hearts of even the most dickish of dragons!)

How emotive are they? Do they wear their emotions on their sleeve? How easily can others to read them? Very emotive, his face doesn’t really have a filter unless he’s very focused on hiding what he’s feeling, it’s very difficult for him to do. Others can usually read him quite well.

He has a resting ANGEL face.

Some general stuff:

I wrote a more detailed bio for Striker here but here’s some tl;dr points:

Black Dog shifter that used to guide and guard travellers in the Ballyboley Forest

Saw “something” in Vihaan and decided to pursue him

They were together a long time (you can see the wanted connection info here

Striker was an idiot and left, faking his death which affected Vihaan more than he knows/understands (it affected HIM more than he knows/understands)

After faking his death, he wandered around in the wilderness for a while in his dog form, eventually being tracked and trapped by scouts for the city who think he has some way to predict/see upcoming deaths, which he doesn’t

Possible Interactions:

I mean there’s gonna be angst with Vihaan like no bodies business... and some shit with Citali because of course but here are some things I’d love:

Mentor: Someone older or wiser than he is. He’s got his head on straight most of the time but he’s been known to make stupid decisions

Drinking buddy: It takes a lot to get Striker drunk with his abilities mucking things up and he doesn’t do it often because of this but a friend to drink with and shoot the shit with would be amazing. You know... deep drunk convos at the bar or laying on the hood of the car staring at the stars...

Friends with benefits: Because of course? Striker’s gay, sorry ladies!

Housemates: Other rescues who don’t have a sponsor yet

Mix ‘n match: Anything you can think of really. Striker’s a sweetie, you won’t regret making friends with him (just don’t ask Vihaan’s opinion on this point...)

This Or That

Personality Quizzes

Moral Alignment: Neutral Good Hogwarts House: Gryffindor Seven Deadly Sins:

Greed: Very Low

Gluttony: Low

Wrath: High

Sloth: Very Low

Envy: Very Low

Lust: Very High

Pride: Very Low

Colour Quiz:

A Red/Green Planeswalker asks the question where am I now, and where should I go? Red and green both agree on the importance of authenticity. Green, from a place of wildness and immediacy, and red from a place of passion and self actualization. A real life activity that embodies red/green is Circling (à la the Authentic Relating community), which in part emphasizes setting aside narratives and frames and just being present, in the moment, with yourself and other people. Dionysian archetypes are red/green, as is Tinkerbell and the Hulk, and the parts of Wolverine that aren't green are usually red. On the gentler side of things, Aang from Avatar: The Last Airbender is firmly red/green and is often torn between his innate red playfulness and the gravity and responsibility required of his green role and destiny.

Red wants freedom.

Everyone seems preoccupied with the meaning of life. Red's not, because red already knows the answer. You see, your heart tells you what it needs in order to be fulfilled. All you have to do is listen to it and act accordingly. It's not a mystery. You are literally bombarded with constant feelings that guide you down the correct path. The problem is all the other colors ignore the message.

To outsiders, red might seem a bit chaotic; but that's only because others can't see what's in red's heart. They cannot feel red's emotions guiding them. Living life to its fullest takes a lot of dedication and perseverance, but red is always up to the task.

Green wants harmony.

The other colors are all focused on how they'd change the world to make it better. Green is the one color that doesn't want to change the world, because green is convinced that the world already got everything right. The natural order is a thing of beauty and has all the answers to life's problems. The key is learning to sit back and recognize what is right in front of you.

== Results from bdsmtest.org == 100% Rope bunny 98% Primal (Prey) 93% Submissive 75% Pet 67% Voyeur 65% Exhibitionist 60% Vanilla 59% Brat 58% Experimentalist 41% Masochist 14% Non-monogamist 10% Boy/Girl 4% Ageplayer 1% Switch 1% Degradee 1% Slave

PLACE IN SOCIETY financial: wealthy / moderate / poor / in poverty / depends on who’s asking medical: fit / moderate / sickly / disabled / disadvantaged. class: upper / middle / working / slave / unsure / unknown education: qualified / unqualified / studying criminal record: yes, for major crimes / yes, for minor crimes / no

FAMILY married - happily / married - unhappily / engaged or betrothed / partnered / open / single / divorced / separated / verse dependent has a child or children / has no children / wants children / verse dependent close with sibling(s) / not close with sibling(s) / has no siblings (prolly) / sibling(s) is deceased orphaned / adopted / disowned / raised by birth parent(s) / other

TRAITS + TENDENCIES extroverted / introverted / in between disorganized / organized / in between close minded / open-minded / in between calm / anxious / in between disagreeable / agreeable / in between cautious / reckless / in between patient / impatient / in between outspoken / reserved / in between leader / follower / in between empathetic / unemphatic / in between optimistic / pessimistic / in between traditional / modern / in between hard-working / lazy / in between cultured / un-cultured / in between / unknown loyal / disloyal / unknown faithful / unfaithful / unknown

BELIEFS monotheist / polytheist / atheist / agnostic / other belief in ghosts or spirits: yes / no / don’t know / don’t care. belief in an afterlife: yes / no / don’t know / don’t care. belief in reincarnation: yes / no /don’t know / don’t care. belief in aliens: yes / no / don’t know / don’t care. religious: orthodox / liberal / in between / not religious / other philosophical: yes / no / maybe

SEXUALITY + ROMANTIC INCLINATION heterosexual / homosexual /bisexual / demisexual / asexual / pansexual sex repulsed / sex neutral / sex favourable. (slightly) romance repulsed /romance neutral / romance favourable. sexually: adventurous /experienced / naive / inexperienced / curious. potential sexual partners: male / female / agender / other / none / all potential romantic partners: male / female / agender / other / none / all

ABILITIES combat skills: excellent / good / moderate / poor / none. literacy skills: excellent / good / moderate / poor / none artistic skills: excellent / good / moderate / poor / none technical skills: excellent / good / moderate / poor / none.

HABITS drinking alcohol: never / sometimes/ frequently / to excess. smoking: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess. other narcotics: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess. medicinal drugs: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess. indulgent food: never / sometimes /frequently / to excess. splurge spending: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess. gambling: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess.

#sd.001 #sdintros #long sorry not sorry #task #ugh

3 notes · View notes

elenajohansenauthor · 6 years

Text

Fictober18, Day 23: “This is not new, it only feels like it.”

OCs: Shannon and Noah

Project: Untitled paranormal romance for Fictober18/NaNoWriMo, now tagged #spookyromancenovel on my blog

Potential Triggers: none

Word Count: 2,127

About: Shannon and Noah manage to talk and admit some squishier than usual feelings.

I gave myself the next three days off. Not of work—I still opened the shop and sold things and drove my little engine of merchant capitalism—but of Noah-related stress and worry. I destroyed the list of names and phone numbers, along with all my notes about my secret plan. It hurt to let that much work go, but once I had, I felt immeasurably lighter.

Scheduling my life around not seeing Noah was easy, too. He returned to my apartment in the early mornings. I heard him come in as early as two, as late as five—he must be enjoying the new shift in his body, even if ultimately it wasn't something he wanted. If this kept up, the entire district would be ghoul-free in just a few weeks.

Unless he went farther to hunt, to keep that exact thing from happening. Since my eye-opening chat with Orlando, I was trying to think more strategically, since that was the first obvious step in my journey to getting smarter. Or wiser, maybe that was the right term. Less naive was the end goal, either way.

If Noah completely depopulated one area of ghouls, someone would probably notice and wonder why. There weren't many nearby, as I'd seen on my way to Orlando's—but there were still some.

In the mornings, all I needed to do to avoid Noah was to stay in my room past sunrise. I liked to wake up early, but I stayed in bed with a book, reading for pleasure instead of research. If Noah knew I was awake, he had no obvious reaction, like knocking on my door just to see me.

At night, I stayed at work well past sunset. My shelves had never been so organized, the floors swept clean in every corner, the windows shined to an alarming sparkle. My midnight outing had given me a paradoxical confidence in my own self-reliance physically while still turning my brain to mush intellectually. Walking home safely through the dark seemed so trivial, now that I knew I could handle myself with just a few precautions. And with Noah keeping down the local ghoul population. But even if they'd been more prevalent, I still could have managed.

With a few hours of concentrated prayer and a shitload of material components, I'd enchanted a small bit of black tourmaline, the stone of protection against spiritual and psychic harm. It was also said to help break obsessions and unwise habits; a side benefit I could definitely use. Over those base properties, I layered charm upon charm to turn it into a potent amulet—it carried the strongest version I could muster of my concealment spell, as well as minor charms for silence, clarity, and courage. With it around my neck, I felt practically invincible, though I reminded myself often that it wasn't true, and letting the magic do the work for me was a quick way to make a sloppy mistake and get myself into trouble.

But no trouble found me on those night walks. I had missed the velvet feeling of darkness on my skin, the difference between a day breeze and a night wind, and the stars. I had missed feeling safe enough to look up at the stars. Gazing at them from inside my apartment, even with all the lights out, wasn't the same.

At the end of the third day, I went home early, mid-afternoon. I hadn't had many customers that day anyway, and I wasn't expecting any regulars. Instead of working, I sat on my couch for a few hours looking at Noah, kneeling in a shifting patch of sunlight because I'd thrown the curtains completely open. It didn't hurt him, he didn't react at all. I studied him and thought about what I wanted to say, now that I felt ready to tell him what had happened.

I was going to have to, because I'd figured out, finally, what Orlando needed from me to make his plan work. What a fool I'd been. Maybe the way he'd played me, played us, should have made me distrust him. Yet, how could I blame him for his games when he'd set my feet on a new path, one that would make me a stronger person? He wasn't my guru, I wasn't about to become a disciple and worship his every utterance.

But I also couldn't deny that the harsh truths he'd shown me had undoubtedly saved my life. And thus, Noah's—so I would never be able to thank Orlando enough. Noah hadn't wanted me to try for the Archives, and I'd dismissed his concern as simple overprotectiveness—a mistake I wouldn't make again. But Orlando had made me understand just how foolish I was, and how far I had to go.

I didn't want to help him out of gratitude. I wasn't sure I wanted to help him at all. His idea was still so far beyond what I'd planned that it stole my breath if I thought about it too long. The audacity of it, the potential for failure. It was too big to handle alone. So I had to tell Noah. I had to explain everything.

I braced myself for being called an idiot again, but it didn't deter me from what needed to be done. I was there, waiting, when the sun sunk below the horizon and Noah woke up.

I let him roll his shoulders and get to his feet, to flex his muscles and shake himself back to life. He knew I was there, certainly, but neither of us said anything.

Eventually he settled cross-legged on the floor, in my usual spot at the table. He glanced at it, visibly noticed it was bare, and looked up at me. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

“What's up?” Not why have you been avoiding me, though in fairness to me, he hadn't made any attempt to bridge the gap. No notes left for me, no showing up to the shop, no knocking on my bedroom door. Noah's eternal respect for my boundaries was a blessing, but it also meant I could never do the peevish thing and expect him to come to me after a fight.

“I'm not going to the Archives.”

He blinked, his head snapping back. “Um, good?” He waited for me to explain. When I didn't, he cocked his head, studying me. “What's changed?”

I told him everything. It took two hours, due to three interruptions from Noah (two angry, one confused;) a short period of time where I talked through making dinner, and then through eating it, alternating sentences with bites of food; and an unexpected phone call from my mother, who gushed for a few minutes about the preliminary design she'd come up with for my dress, she was so excited she couldn't wait until next Sunday to tell me.

Overall, I think Noah handled it pretty well. No threats of murder or dismemberment, which wouldn't have bothered me much, being clearly hyperbolic. No threats of ending our friendship, either, which would have been far more devastating. I'd've continued to search for a cure anyway, because giving up was out of the question, but I'd be saving him only to let him go at the end, to let him leave my life for good.

But it didn't happen. I'd been more than a little afraid it might, given how long I'd been lying to him, and about such a serious subject. I spoke excitedly, maybe even passionately about my reaction to Orlando's wisdom, waving my hands in wide gestures that Noah watched with uneasy attention. I knew I was being over the top, but when I thought about how foolish I'd been and how I was trying to change, the combination of shame and elation was this weird, unstoppable high. I couldn't contain it, only channel it into what I hoped was a convincing speech.

It was only toward the end that it finally occurred to me: I might like the person I was becoming, but Noah might not.

He seemed to sense my sudden fear when I faltered mid-sentence. I gripped the amulet around my neck, reminding myself to be brave. “I've come so far so quickly, but it's a big shift in the way I look at the world. I'm used to being The Smart One, all the way back to the first days of kindergarten when I already knew my alphabet. It's hard to accept that relying on that self-image was actually getting in my way. And I don't want to change so much that you don't recognize me anymore.”

Noah “I don't think this is new, Shannon. It only feels like it.”

I shook my head. “I don't understand.”

“I get that you've had an epiphany, and I don't want to take that away from you. Growth is hard work. But you've always been changing your outlook. You've always accepted that you don't have all the answers, and you've never been afraid to admit that you're wrong.”

I took a step away from him, still sitting easily on the floor. My back hit the wall and I pressed myself against it, into it. “I'm plenty afraid. I've made a lot of mistakes, so many it's hard to think about them without feeling overwhelmed.”

Noah stood and held out his hand. “Not so many, really—I know what you're thinking, but the research doesn't count. Those weren't mistakes, those were hypotheses you proved incorrect. That's just part of the scientific method, right?”

A smile tried to form, tugging at my lips. “I'm not a scientist. My sample size is one and I don't have a control group.”

“Okay, then, you're a mad engineer.”

I couldn't help it, I laughed. We'd had this discussion while watching Young Frankenstein one night instead of studying for a biology test.

Noah took a step forward, his hand still waiting for mine. “I don't like that he calls you 'duckling,' though.”

Was that a hint of jealousy? I'd become a nun before I ever fell in love with Orlando—he was too bizarre, too avuncular, and if my guess was correct, far too old for me. “I actually do. It's cute without being insulting.” To soften my disagreement, I took his hand.

He led me to the window and wrapped one arm around my shoulders. We looked out into the night sky. “If you're okay with it, I guess I have to be.”

His physical closeness was strange, after he'd spent so long keeping me away from him. He must really be getting comfortable in his new body, finally. On the thought, I gasped.

“What? Shannon, what's wrong?” He went tense. I'm not sure how I could tell, exactly, because his muscles were already as hard as stone, but they definitely tensed.

“Here I am trying to be better,” I whispered, “and I've just spent the whole evening doing nothing but talk about me. I'm so self-absorbed! It's stupid, I'm so embarrassed.” I wanted to slip free of his arm and hide—not even my shiny new amulet could deflect that amount of shame.

But Noah used that arm to turn me to face him, placing both hands on my shoulders. “Shannon, you've spent the last three years entirely on me. You don't think I want to hear about you for a while instead? I didn't like everything you had to say, but don't you get how happy it makes me that you finally told me?”

I leaned forward, hiding my face by thunking my forehead against his chest. But I miscalculated and it hurt, driving a soft ow from me. Noah chuckled. “You're the most selfless person I've ever known. Now, why don't we put on a movie, something you like and something I've missed while I've been...well, away. I don't have Netflix like you do. Catch me up a little.”

I looked up to find an absolutely serious expression on his face. He wanted to watch a movie? Not how I expected my night to end. I thought I'd be crying in bed after Noah ranted at me for all the shit I'd pulled. “You're not hungry?” I asked in a small voice.

“I'll be fine. I'll hit the town for a few hours after you go to bed.”

“Okay.”

He let me go, but detoured around the couch and headed into the kitchen, opening and closing cabinets systematically. “Noah?” I called as I settled on the couch.

“Aha!” A few beeps later, I heard the whirr of the microwave. “I knew you'd have some.”

I leaned my head back, slouching deeply. I did always have popcorn, and I always let Noah make it for me. Some things, apparently, wouldn't change after all.

#writeblr #fictober18 #original fiction #spookyromancenovel #amwriting #FOUR SCENES IN ONE DAY #I CAME BACK TO THIS BEFORE BEDTIME #i'm still a week behind

5 notes · View notes

mirageofrenarouge · 6 years

Text

Red Dead Miraculous: A Miraculous AU

Also posted to AO3 here, if you prefer.

The sun sank slowly in the west as the day drew to a close in the town of Strawberry, painting the buildings an orange-red. The residents had already began ending the day, packing up things and returning to their houses deep in the town itself when a black horse galloped down the dirt of Main Street. None seemed to notice the man on his dark steed sneak his way into the sleepy city, making his way to the row of businesses that stretched the length of the populated area.

“Whoa, Cataclysm!” he whispered harshly to his horse as he pulled next to the general store. A black bandana covered his face up to his nose as he hitched Cataclysm and strode in through the door. The cashier was already counting his til, preparing to leave for the night.

“Beg your pardon, sir, but we’re closed. Reckon you’ll have to come back in the morning.”

The masked figure made no acknowledgement, continuing to slowly approach the register at the back of the small store.

“I said I can’t hel-”

The clerk was stopped short by a dark revolver pistol pointed right at his face.

“I believe that you can help me, partner.” the figure spoke with an accent that he hoped did not sound as fake to his hostage as it did to his own ears. “Give me what you have there, and some cans of food, and no one has to get harmed.”

The clerk looked positively terrified, and produced a burlap sack which he stuffed first with the contents of the register. Following that, he picked about ten cans of various foods and stuffed them in the bag as well. After taking hold of the goods for himself, the masked robber pointed his gun a little harder at the store owner.

“Now, you never saw me here. I would hate for this to have to end in blood.” The manager only shook his head in response. Satisfied, the man in the mask walked out with purpose and tied the bag to Cataclysm’s right side.

“Hyah!” he called out for his horse to move after unhitching him from the post of the general store. The animal took a slow gallop out of town and down into the forest of the surrounding area.

Adrien pulled the bandana off his face and stowed it away, taking a shaky breath of relief. No law, good. The landscape had shifted to a light blue of twilight, the familiar trees of his path home becoming silhouettes in front of his eyes. He patted his faithful horse as they rode along.

“Great job, boy. You made that so super easy. Now hopefully we can just get back home without anyone being the wiser.”

Before long, the young man came along a barn that was most certainly not where he lived. A friendly face was lost in the darkness, but he saw him wave anyway. He followed the figure into the barn, the man closing the barn doors behind him.

“Well you don’t look dead, so I’d say that went well.” His friend quipped as Adrien lead Cataclysm into one of the stables inside.

“You know I’m a professional, Nino!” Adrien said in a half laugh. He grabbed the bag from his horse, giving a portion of his bills to his friend. “Guy looked at me like he’s never been robbed in his life.”

“He probably hasn’t,” Nino said in response. “Those folks in Strawberry don’t see much action at all. Especially not from the Black Cat.” He said Adrien’s outlaw name with a mocking flourish, causing the blonde to roll his eyes.

“Make fun all you want, but it keeps us fed. If our damn crops would just produce a little bit, I wouldn’t have to rob general stores in the dead of night just to make it through the month.” Nino stepped out as Adrien ranted, knowing he had to change out of his Black Cat attire. “It’s just...so hard to make it out here. I’d love an honest living so I didn’t have to lie to Mary, but…” He seemed to stop short of what he wanted to say, but he figured Nino understood. He stuffed his previous outfit into one of Cataclysm’s bags, which now hung in the stable next to the horse. He exited the barn wearing much lighter colors, more usual for Adrien, and a tan hat.

“Why don’t you tell her about it? It’s not like she doesn’t know we’re struggling here. Why tell her you’re doing...whatever you told her you’re doing that isn’t stealing at gunpoint?” Adrien whistled for Ladybug, the horse that he and Marinette shared. She came running, her white skin shining in the moonlight and accented by the dark brown saddle that rested on her.

“I just would hate for her to want me to stop, to feel like she had to go out and work so that the two of us together could maybe survive.”

“Mary is absolutely capable of working, she’s no skill-less housewife Adrien.” Nino had a concerned look on his face.

“No I know that, I just think this is for the best for now. I don’t plan to become a career outlaw or anything, I’m just getting us a little extra so we can take the hit from the farm this year.”

Nino seemed unconvinced, but didn’t offer further protest. He counted the money in his hand, twenty dollars, before putting it in his pocket.

“Thanks, by the way.” Adrien finally said after a few miles of silence. “I couldn’t do this without you.”

“Any time, bud. Just don’t ask me to come robbing with you, I get enough people wanting to shoot me for the crime of being black.”

Adrien nodded solemnly, not really knowing anything to add that wouldn’t sound stupid.

It wasn’t long before their familiar homestead came into view, bathed in the complete darkness that had overtaken the night. Alya was out on the front porch waiting for them as they hitched up the horses.

“How did it go, lover boy?” The question was pointed at Adrien, but Nino answered silently by showing their cut of the money.

“Hot damn!” Alya whisper-yelled. “That’ll help us out a lot. Thank you, Adrien. Just don’t go making a habit of it.”

“I won’t. I got some cans of food too, if y’all need some.” Alya looked in the bag, and decided to take a single can of peaches.

“Well thank you again. We’re mostly doing fine, but I love these things. Now, get that stuff put away and get to bed before your lady starts getting to wondering.”

Adrien nodded and turned to open the door to their shared house.

“Oh, and Adrien?”

His hand stopped on the handle as his head turned to look back at her.

“If this does become more than a few times, Mary has to know.” Her eyes pierced him with a preview of the hell that was a scorned woman.

“You have my word.” he offered in reply with a similarly serious look.

The trio went on inside, Adrien putting the food and money away in the cabinets and a lockbox, respectively. Not long after that, he crept into bed next to his dark-haired lover.

“Babe?” Marinette said, stirring.

“Hello, dear. I had hoped not to disturb you.” he started getting undressed to sleep as he spoke.

“How was town? I hope you made it to town before they closed up.”

“Oh yeah, just barely but I did. Ladybug seemed to know I was in a rush, she got me in there before it got too dark.”

“Oh good, you both make me so proud.” she leaned over as he got into bed, giving him a loving kiss before laying back down.

“How are things looking out in the field?” Adrien changed the subject, feeling a bit of guilt for his dishonesty. He felt an uncomfortable pause before she spoke in reply.

“It’s gonna be our worst year since we moved out here.” Her voice sounded disappointed, as if it was personally her fault that it was that way. “But there will be things to sell when harvest comes. We’ll survive, we all will.”

“We absolutely will, Mary. Don’t worry yourself too much. My new job working on that ranch is gonna give us enough to get through the winter, and then after that we’ll have the best year next crop cycle.” he spoke this absolutely, as if it were certainty. He had to believe that it was, so his lying to the love of his life could be kept to an absolute minimum.

She smiled at him, hope seeming to return to her eyes. “I love you, Adrien. Good night.”

“Good night, love. I love you too.” He replied, getting into bed to shut his tired eyes, and he meant every word.

#adrinette #fanfiction #miraculous ladybug #DJWifi #AUs #tw: threats of violence #tw: guns #tw: mild language #this is a drabble but i might continue it who knows #cross-posted to ao3

4 notes · View notes

thatapostateboy · 6 years

Text

pride is the one to blame (Benny/Courier)

Part One. Six goes to the Tops with every intention of killing Benny. But when she finds Yes Man in his suite and discovers his plan, she changes her tune, wanting to work it to her benefit. And if that included having to work with the man who tried to kill her... so be it.

(Read here on Ao3)

The heels of her black boots sounded loudly across the casino floor of the Tops. She had everything she needed to finally see this through. She had risen from her grave, crossed the Mojave, sweet talked her way through every barrier that prevented her from being right here at this moment. She may have been new to this game, but she was learning how to play. Vegas wasn’t like the rest of the desert. If she strolled in here in her leather armour, armed with her biggest gun, she wasn’t going to get within a thousand feet of her target. No, instead she had kitted herself out with a new black dress, complete with a tight fitting blazer and a matching fedora to sit atop her dark waves of hair that she had taken out of its usual messy bun and styled in her new suite in the Lucky 38. As much as anyone could see, she was an unarmed woman looking to drink and gamble. Only she knew about the silenced .22 she had strapped to the inside of her thigh.

It hadn’t taken much to sway Swank to her side, convincing him to turn on his boss and hand over the key to his suite so that she could see to business. She had made her way upstairs, planning to wait there for Benny to arrive a few hours later when she could lay the perfect trap for him then walk away without anyone being any the wiser.

Yet, as she had gone through his belongings, trying to find some more clues about her attempted murderer, she had come across something she hadn’t accounted for. The discovery of Yes Man, and his overeagerness to share Benny’s plans had put a spanner in the works. The Platinum Chip and Benny’s plan were the key to ruling Vegas. It was a prospect she had never considered before. She had done some work for the NCR as she travelled and had thought about taking up a more permanent position with them once her business here was dealt with, but for the short time she had spent in New Vegas, she had felt more at home than anywhere else since she’d woken up in Goodsprings.

But she was no fool. If she wanted to rule Vegas, she knew she couldn’t do it alone.

Which was what had brought her back down to the casino floor, walking straight toward the figure in the all too familiar chequered suit. He was talking to the group of men around him; his guards no doubt. One of them noticed her approach and gave a nod to Benny who turned to see her just as she came to a stop at the bottom of the steps.

“What in the god damn?” his eyes went wide as the realisation dawned on him just who she was. He held up his hands slightly, “Let’s keep this in the groove, hey? Smooth moves, smooth.” She couldn’t help but smile to herself as his eyebrows went up as well, “Hello! That broad everyone saw go in the Lucky 38, that was you? Oh shit.”

“Good to see you too, Benny,” she smiled, “I think you need some pointers on your marksmanship.”

He let out a hard laugh, “I hit what I was aiming for. Can’t blame me if your thick skull couldn’t take it. Or perhaps you just had brains to spare. Either way, baby, this is good news. Maybe I can sleep at night, knowing you didn’t die.”

“Should I be flattered that you lost sleep over little old me?” she quirked an eyebrow at him.

He smirked, “What say you and me cash out, go somewheres more private-like? Any questions you got, I’ll answer. I’ll comp you the Presidential, best suite in the house. Give you a taste of the VIP lifestyle. It’s the least you deserve.” One of his men handed him the key, which he held out to her, “I’ll hang out down here, make sure everything looks all business-as-usual, then I’ll come join you. No doubt you want to test out the Tops hospitality in private.”

She took a step closer, “I plan to enjoy it to its full potential, but first, you promised me some answers. Lose the bodyguards, and we both go to the suite together. Now. Or I walk.”

He met her gaze for a moment as if calculating her motives then gave her a charming smile, “If that’s what it takes to win your trust, that’s what it takes. Follow me.”

He nodded towards the elevator and she fell into step beside him, letting her eyes dart around, sizing up every potential threat. One move from Benny and she knew there would be fifty Chairmen guns pointed at her before she could pull her pistol. She had to be one step ahead of him.

They rode up the elevator in initial silence, sharing an awkward glance as she caught him looking her up and down.

“What?” she snapped her head to look at him.

“Nothing, baby,” he shrugged, an almost satisfied glint to his eyes, “Just wondering if you always come to business meetings with your charlies and your pins on show.”

“Didn’t think you’d appreciate my dusty, beaten up leathers.”

“How sweet of you to worry,” he smiled as the doors slid open and they stepped into the suite. He headed directly for the bar, gesturing for her to take a seat on one of the stools. She did so, watching as he grabbed two glasses, “What can I get you, doll?”

“Whiskey apple sour,” she said without missing a beat.

“Woman after my own heart,” he smirked as he made their drinks, whisking their cocktails up with an almost professional flair. He poured them out, sliding the glass towards her as he took a seat beside her.

She took a sip, giving an impressed hum, “Not bad. Not often a girl gets ice in her drinks.”

“I told you the Ben-Man would show you the VIP treatment,” he reminded her, taking a mouthful of his own before turning his head towards her, “So, I gotta ask; how did you dig your way out of that hole in Goodsprings?”

“It takes more than a couple of bullets to the head to stop me.”

“Yeah, hello,” he said, gesturing at her, “Serves me right for using a 9mm. Not that it matters now. Once you were vertical, how’d you track me down?”

“A girl’s got her ways,” she told him, setting her drink down, “You got a smoke?”

“Sure,” he nodded, pulling a packet of cigarettes out of the inside pocket of his jacket. As he did, she caught a flash of the gun he had tucked away there. He handed her a cigarette, placing one in his own mouth, then began patting his pockets down, cursing under his breath, “Damn it, sorry babe, seems I’ve misplaced my lighter.”

“I got you,” she said, slipping her hand into her own pocket and pulling out his lighter, flicking it and lighting the cigarette that hung loosely from his lips in shock. She lit her own with a smug grin, placing it on the bar, “Seems like you dropped something in Boulder City.”

He took a drag on his cigarette, sighing out of breath of smoke, “And to think I deemed that flintbox my lucky charm. Oh, the irony… I guess that’s enough scratching around at first base. Tell me, which way is the wind gonna blow?”

“You got a lot of explaining to do,” she said.

He nodded, “You got questions, I got answers.”

To his credit, he answered every question she asked. She asked about his plan, about House, about the Chip, and he gave her answers. Not the full answers like she had received from Yes Man, but enough to know that he wasn’t straight lying to her face. She could tell that this was leading to an offer on his end, no doubt a pile of caps to keep her out of the way, maybe even a cut of the profits if his plan worked out, but she had had enough playing around.

“So,” she said, stubbing out her smoke in the ashtray that sat between them, “What does any of this have to do with your secret workshop and the securitron you’ve got in there?”

She watched as he turned to look at her, the expression on his face allowing her to relish in the fact that he had been outplayed.

“You… really weren’t supposed to talk to him,” he said quietly, then let out a sigh, explaining how he had obtained Yes Man, had him reprogrammed, and used him to begin his whole plot to overthrow House. When he was done, a frown crossed his face, “So if you knew my scheme all along, why make me explain it all over again? I’m sure you’ve got better things to be doing with your time.”

“It’s simple, Ben-Man, I want in,” she told him, “You’re right about New Vegas and its need for independence.”

“I can’t imagine you’re offering out of the kindness of your heart, baby, what’s the asking price?”

“When it’s all over, I want a slice of the pie. Not just the caps, which I also want a lot of. I want to run this city.”

“That’s a big ask, baby doll. You’re new around here, ain’t a lot of folks that’ll be happy about some broad strutting in and demanding a chunk of the Strip,” he said.

“Trust me, I’m worth the price I’m asking. I caused quite a stir on my journey here, you know I can hold my own in a fight as well as a board room.”

“So how would this work? You put in the time bringing down House, keeping the NCR and the Legion at bay, and then what; you want a spot in the Chairmen?”

She rose from her seat and grabbed the bottle of whiskey, pouring them a few fingers each into their now empty glasses, leaning against the bar, “Think bigger, Benny baby. I don’t want to muscle in on your little gang. When the smoke clears, and House is gone, I want the Lucky 38.”

“You even got any idea about running a casino, pussycat?” he raised an eyebrow.

“Two months ago I was dug up out of my own grave without a single memory in my head, I didn’t know how to fire a gun or what my own name was, but I made it here. I’m a quick learner,” she bit back, knocking back her whiskey in one burning mouthful.

“Damn, baby, I really did a number on you, didn’t I?” he sighed, and she could have sworn there was a glint of sadness in his gaze. She narrowed her eyes at him then knocked back his drink as well.

“Do we have a deal or not?” she asked, pouring them a shot of whiskey, “You need my help, and I won’t be offering it forever.”

“You really are one crazy broad, you know that?” he laughed softly as he picked up his own glass, holding it up slightly, “I can’t promise you that this will go the way we want, but you hold up your end of the deal, I’ll do everything in my power to hold up mine. Deal?”

She clinked her glass against his, “Deal.”

#fallout new vegas #fonv #benny gecko #benny x courier #courier x benny #benny/courier #courier/benny #courier six #writing #there will be more parts

33 notes · View notes

munchix-home-cooking · 4 years

Photo

RP Log: Munchix and Rayena continue their journey to Yanxia

(@rayenaray :D)

Munchix Bogbelly - After the pirate attack, the rest of the voyage was smooth sailing...though it wasn’t free of the usual woes of ocean travel. Sea sickness, sunburn, and what have you. So when the ship finally pulls into Onokoro, Munchix literally leaps off and lands on the dock, thankful to be on solid ground again. He turns to the ship and waves.

Rayena Corsano exits the ship more gracefully, adjusting her bag a little and looking around. "Alright, should we pick up any supplies here or go straight to looking for your tree?" she smiled.

Munchix Bogbelly shakes his head no. “We’re not close enough to where the tree is, supposedly. So unless you want to try out some of the local faire, I’d say let’s be on our way.” He pauses. “There IS good seafood ‘round here though.”

Rayena Corsano: "Are you hungry? We had sandwiches on the ship and I have a couple more for the trip home as well as a couple snacks for the trip. I am personally not hungry yet but, we can get some around supper." she smiled.

Munchix Bogbelly: “I’m good for now. If anything I hunger....for ADVENTURE!” A wide grin spreads on his face, though he’s quick to correct himself. “The safetysort of adventure though! Don’t want anymore haphazard surprises.”

Rayena Corsano: "I'll make sure to keep my healing on standby." she smiled. "Do you know what direction we should be heading?”

Munchix Bogbelly: “We head easterly, to Yanxia. Which is...uh.” Munchix spins around, glances directly into the sun, and then turns to the right. “That way. Times-a-wastin’, let’s get racin’!”

Munchix Bogbelly hefts ALL the bags onto his back and begins speedwalking. He looks a bit like a snail from a distance. A very large, and hobbling snail.

Rayena Corsano: "You want help with some of those bags?"

Munchix Bogbelly: “No, no! I’m fine. Can never be too prepared.” He says, as a pinwheel and two hammers fall from his cargo. Munchix continues eastward, none the wiser.

Rayena Corsano picks up the pinwheel and two hammers before following him at his back, keeping an ear and eye open to anymore of his cargo falling out.

Munchix Bogbelly - Everything that falls out is like, pretty clearly junk. Or at least questionable in the context of hiking/adventuring? Like, what use does Munchix have for a spray bottle? Anyway, this strange train of things dropping and being retrieved continues into Yanxia...

Rayena Corsano comes into Yanxia, huffing a little as she's carrying various things in her arms, some of it in her bag, which looked like it was stretching it's limits. "Let's pause a moment so, we can put all this back in your sacks." she said gently placing the pile on the floor.

Munchix Bogbelly had, as things were dropping from his pack, been increasing his pace with the lighter load. He turns to Rayena, surprised. “You mean to say, that’s mystuffs, and not yourstuffs?”

Rayena Corsano nodded and started pulling things of out her bag that belonged to him. "Yeah, it's all your stuff. Maybe we need to move at a slower pace so, it doesn't fall out again, or secure your sacks somehow..."

Munchix Bogbelly kneeled down and started examining the recovered objects with great interest. His backpack was relatively secure...given the sheer quantity of stuff he had shoved into it. It really seemed a problem more with overpacking, if anything. The fact that he had even managed to fit so much into so little a space was impressive, and a little frightening. Any uneven hitch in the road would knock the topmost object loose.

Rayena Corsano made a frown. "Granted, you're carrying an awful lot, maybe we should leave some of it behind. The stuff you really don't need anymore."

Munchix Bogbelly gasps, turning to Rayena with a devastated look. In one hand, he’s brandishing what looks to be a fork attached to a drill, and when he turns it on, the fork spins rapidly. “WHA. The stuffs I don’t need anymore? But what if we need the spaghetti-twister 1400, muchly? There’s no telling what challenges await us.”

Rayena Corsano looked towards the spaghetti twister and raised a brow. "I honestly don't see if eating spaghetti here but, if you really want to keep it all..." she said and rummaged through her over-sized leather bag before pulling out a brown sack, about the size of a potato sack. "Suppose you can put all that into this, and then if there is still some left, I can slip it into my leather bag."

Munchix Bogbelly: “Heftyhead thinking, Rayena.” Without even a pinch of care, he shoveled all the scattered objects into his arms and dumped it into the potato sack. After smashing it in a bit, the sack could /just barely/ close. A good job.

Munchix Bogbelly - There’s a soft honking sound, followed by a squish as this happens.

Rayena Corsano smiled softly, blinking a little at the sound coming from the sack before taking in a breath. "Well, that is sorted then, shall we trek on?"

Munchix Bogbelly: “Yes, yes! Onwards we go, my stalwart companion.” Potato bag in front, massive backpack behind, he (carefully) totters forward towards Namai.

Munchix Bogbelly can barely see where he’s going, which isn’t the best when there are ravenous tigers and other territorial critters about.

Rayena Corsano looks around.

Rayena Corsano: "Is this the right way?" she asks, looking around.

Munchix Bogbelly - Drawn in by the smell of dried food, wafting from Munchix’s bag, a tiger stalks the two. For now, it stays in the perimeter, waiting for the right time to strike. Meanwhile, Munchix ambles along. “Hm, it must be. Ground looks the same as the last time I came.”

(Munchix Bogbelly) this is like, every terrible escort mission in videogames )) (Munchix Bogbelly) an I'm the terrible escort xD )) (Rayena Corsano) oh no lol (Munchix Bogbelly) or escortee?? what are words ))

Rayena Corsano nodded. "Alright well, stay close me to. Those tigers can probably smell the food we're carrying though, mines pretty sealed up."

(Munchix Bogbelly) accidentally aggros a tiger and dies )) (Munchix Bogbelly) AHAHA )) (Munchix Bogbelly) this is the most perfect timing )) (Munchix Bogbelly) I'm surprised it didn't 1-shot munchix actually )) (Rayena Corsano) lol i was trying to click it and it took a minute

Munchix Bogbelly - Like a big, slow katamari ball of clutter, Munchix follows Rayena with the best of his ability. It’s precisely at this moment that the tiger strikes, slapping Munchix twice and sending the gobcat rolling down the hill.

Rayena Corsano takes out her chakrams, throwing them rather close to the tiger as an attempt to scare it away before checking on Munchix. "You alright?"

Munchix Bogbelly - A rock in the path has stopped him from snowballing, and miraculously, his belongings remain in his hands. The tiger, having swung at his backpack, did no real damage to Munchix. He looks dizzy though. “Whuhough ouughh hggh huh?”

Rayena Corsano: "I asked if you were alright, you look a little dizzy but, you don't appear to be bleeding."

Munchix Bogbelly: “Hhhh...ohh...” He wobbles back onto his feet, the world still spinning. There’s at least ten afterimages of Rayena, blurred and hazy, and he talks to the one on the far left. “Hearts beating, but that means I’m alive? Think I’m still apiece. Must’ve lost my footing there.”

Rayena Corsano: “You didn’t see the tiger swipe at your pack?" she tilted her head.

Munchix Bogbelly: “A TIGER?! WHERE?” He would jump in shock if he could, but he’s anchored down by his cargo. “N-No! I just felt myself go flying forward!”

Rayena Corsano: "It's gone now, managed to scare it off with my chakram. And yeah, it came out and swiped along your back, you got to be more careful."

Munchix Bogbelly: “Know full well that I’m grateful for your aid.” He sighs, with a shake of his head. Being chased by monsters was a regular occurrence for his outings, and he just didn’t know why...Munchix picked up his conspicuously large bags with a frown. “Right, careful. Let’s make haste to Namai.”

Rayena Corsano nods to you.

Munchix Bogbelly - Munchix’s roll had covered a great deal of ground, and so it wasn’t much further until the two made it to Namai. The first thing he does is rent a room for the two, and dump all his belongings there. With a sigh, he exits the building while rubbing his shoulders. “We’re here! The land of...tree. The land of /the/ tree.”

Rayena Corsano places a few things from her bag into the room they rented before looking around once they exit. "Alright, you want to try looking for the tree now? Or rest for a bit?"

Munchix Bogbelly: “Resting doesn’t sound half bad. Sounds /full good/ actually.” He eyes the display of permissions that a vendor has out. Without any delay, he grabs one of the fruits and leaves a handful of gil in its place. “Not dailyday that I find myself this far east.”

#ff14 rp logs #munchix bogbelly #Rayena Corsano #all this to find a tree #and then eat it #munchix logic

0 notes

siverwrites · 6 years

Text

The Way Back

Pure self-indulgence plain and simple and inability to escape the dang AU train. Relies on this for context https://siverwrites.tumblr.com/post/170123204238/not-yet But summary: Alma was summoner, Jowd and Yomiel were guardians. It went badly and only Jowd survived. And Jowd is having become a summoner himself thoughts. Cabanela chased after and got Jowd the heck out of their mess.

So hello journey to a temple to save Jowd’s hide in something that would never make it to a larger fic were I to ever write one because it’s backstory but it’s here now!

It did scratch an itch for a role reversal in having Jowd the wounded one and Cabanela in care mode though I figured on doing something lighter if I ever did, oops. Again I say, dang crossovers.

In the grand scheme of things it wouldn’t be a long journey back to the temple. At the slow pace that was all Jowd could manage – and the only pace Cabanela could manage while trying to support him – Cabanela knew it would take a lot longer. Two nights? Three? He quickly shut out the treacherous thought: would Jowd make it that long?

Evening fell quickly and they stopped at the first bit of flat ground with some cover they could find. Jowd was quiet while Cabanela prepared a fire. Once done Cabanela sat close to Jowd. They remained silent, too drained to say much and trapped under the weight of what happened.

“I’ll keep watch,” Cabanela finally said. His hand brushed against Jowd with a murmured incantation as another cure danced off his fingers. He didn’t know if it was doing much, but if there was any comfort he could provide he would do so. “Get some sleeep.”

Jowd lay back, but it took some time before Cabanela saw his eyes close. He paced circles around their small camp and focused entirely on the darkness, shutting out all other thoughts.

Jowd awoke in the small hours of the morning. They had a brief argument before Cabanela submitted and managed a few short hours of sleep. Then they were up and making their slow journey forward.

A long day broken by several breaks to allow Jowd to rest while Cabanela kept up a litany of reassurances, reminiscing and empty chatter he couldn’t remember after – anything to distract Jowd and keep him moving.

A long day interrupted by fiends fought off with spells – as quickly as he was able to prevent Jowd from trying to help.

A long day that wound down to another night and Cabanela fought back concern over Jowd’s pale and weakened state.

Cabanela spent part of the night sitting by Jowd’s side trying not to fret over his friend’s muttering and trying to ignore the repeated pangs at Jowd’s pained repetition of Alma’s name. He spent the other part patrolling the camp and his efforts were ‘rewarded’ when a large winged eye swooped in.

Two shots of thunder wiped it out, but not before waking Jowd.

His voice was hoarse and low. “What was that?”

“Nothing I couldn’t haaandle,” Cabanela said. “You’ve still got time for sleep.”

A pained sound brought Cabanela back to his side in an instant. He started to cast another cure when Jowd caught his hand.

“I think I’m beyond that. No point in tiring yourself out.”

Jowd’s eyes were only half open and he seemed to gaze at nothing.

“If it helps even a little it’s wooorth it,” Cabanela said.

“You need to learn to let go…”

Cabanela pulled his hand from Jowd’s and it was too easy to do. “You need to get some rest and stop talking nonsense.”

“Maybe I’ll see her again,” Jowd murmured.

“Afraid not for a good time yet,” Cabanela said and cupped Jowd’s cheek, letting another cure flow through him. “You’re here. You’re not goin’ anywhere.”

Jowd’s eyes closed with a mumbled “Right…” before sleep took him again.

Cabanela didn’t move from his spot by his side until morning dawned and Jowd woke. To his relief he seemed more alert again and they set off for another day.

Last full day, Cabanela calculated. One more night most likely. The most likely turned certain after their slow progress. Jowd’s steps were growing less steady and his breath harsher as they approached another evening.

“Just a liiittle farther,” Cabanela said softly.

“I can manage for some time still,” Jowd said.

“There’s a good spot for campin’. No need to push it and…” Cabanela stiffened. “Fiend.”

It dove out of the bushes and met a fire spell. It wasn’t enough. Jowd slid down to the ground and Cabanela jumped in front catching a claw across his shoulder. Jowd struggled to push himself up. No need my friend. He tried to incant another spell, but no words came out. He shot an urgent look at the scratch as the beast circled back around for another attack.

Damn.

He backed up a step, his hand going to the hilt of his blade while still trying to stay in front of Jowd. Jowd managed to shakily rise and Cabanela could sense the energy gathering around him. The beast leapt and met a hard punch that crumpled it to the ground with a last feeble whine. Jowd followed after, panting.

Jowd, Cabanela mouthed. Jowd looked up at him the question clear in his eyes. Cabanela pointed to his throat and shook his head with a scowl.

Jowd glanced between the beast and Cabanela’s injury. “That would do it. Do you have anything left for that wound?”

Cabanela shrugged and made an airy sort of gesture at Jowd. For you.

Jowd snorted. “They’ll do more good for you than me.”

Cabanela frowned and shook his head. It stung painfully, but wasn’t too deep.

“Just take it,” Jowd scolded before Cabanela could find a way to protest further.

He sighed and gulped down one of the remaining potions. He was about to hold out a hand to help Jowd up when Jowd’s shoulders started to quiver and he burst out laughing. Cabanela stared at him and tried to put as much emphasis into his gesture as possible. What the hell, Jowd?

“Look at us,” Jowd said cheerfully. “A failed guardian who can barely move let alone protect anyone and a mage who can’t cast! Ha! What a sorry pair we make.”

Cabanela stared up into the heavens. Yevon help him, why now? He held out a hand to the laughing man with a hard stare. Are you done yet?

Jowd took it, still chortling quietly and dragged himself up, leaning against Cabanela. He quieted and they returned to their slow and now silent slog.

They made it to a place suitable for camping and Jowd sunk onto the grass, pale and any traces of his earlier amusement were gone. By the time Cabanela got a fire going, Jowd lay in the grass his head pillowed on one arm and asleep. Cabanela cast a worried look over him. He had to be okay and he would be - in body at least.

He shrugged off his coat and draped it as best he could over the larger man. It would have to do. His hand lingered over his shoulder. I’m sorry, he mouthed and tried once more to force the image of Alma and Yomiel out of his head. Time enough for that later when Jowd was safe.

He took to his feet and paced about their small camp, watching the darkness and keeping a hand on the hilt of his blade he hoped wouldn’t be necessary.

Another night come and gone and the morning sun seemed dazzling to his blurred eyes, but he could be thankful his voice returned.

Jowd woke slowly and Cabanela frowned. He knew he slept, but the deep shadows in a pale face tried to say otherwise. Last day, he reminded himself. They’d make it at some point today. They had to.

They walked in near silence but for Jowd’s laboured breathing. Cabanela’s concentration remained fixed on moving under his weight and occasionally whispering a cure at him. Keep going, one step after another.

“I wonder,” Jowd said faintly after a time. “I failed her. We left them. Will we meet them again? Have to bring them down? Would we know it? Ha, what am I saying? I doubt I’ll have to worry about it.”

Cabanela gave him a sideways frown as concern bubbled up again – this sort of talk again – and tried to cast another cure. It was getting harder. His eyes felt like they’d been scraped dry and his head hollowed out for good measure. Jowd’s current words were not what he’d choose to fill the space.

“Course you won’t,” Cabanela said. “They’ll rest.” Such an easy lie, but it could be true couldn’t it? “And you won’t see her for a looong time, ‘til you’re grey and no wiser.”

“You can’t always expect your demands to be met,” Jowd said.

“Caaan when I know I’m right,” Cabanela shot back and winced. He was bent double under Jowd’s weight. Jowd’s steps grew halting and unsteady. Just a little farther.

“Not… this time…”

“Jowd!”

Jowd’s legs buckled. Cabanela’s grip on his hand tightened and only served to get him pulled down as well when Jowd collapsed. Cabanela pushed himself up on shaking hands and knees.

“A beeed would be more comfortable my friend. Just a biiit more to go. Not far now.”

Jowd’s eyes closed tight and his teeth clenched.

Cabanela laid a hand on his shoulder and tried to dredge up anything left for another cure. Any bit of energy to get him back up. So close, so close. Warmth danced between them briefly, leaving an ache coursing through his body. Could a spell hurt to cast?

“Come on. We’re almost theeere.”

Jowd remained silent, breath rasping through his chest. He tried to cast again, but the simple words dissolved into a low groan.

“Don’t make me break my back tryin’ to carry you. Jowd…”

Any movement that he would be capable of trying seemed to hold too much risk of injuring him more. Were they close enough to get help? Leaving him was out of the question.

“Are you all right over there?”

Cabanela’s head snapped up at the voice. A man approached, his pace quickening at the sight of them.

“What happened?” he asked when he reached them.

“He was badly injured in a fiend attack. Are we close to the temple?”

The man’s eyes widened. “Yes! I’ll go get help. Wait here.”

Cabanela sagged with relief as the man hurried away back down the road. “Tooold you,” he said to Jowd. He gripped his hand. “Hang on.”

Never was a temple a more welcome sight as the priests bore Jowd inside. Cabanela paused to clear his swimming vision before following after, paying little attention to the inquiries aimed his way. He was fine. Jowd was all that mattered now.

Jowd was moved to a room. Cabanela took another step forward intending to join them and had to catch himself against the wall as the temple swayed and spun around him. The statues blurred. When did he last sleep? He shook his head. Jowd first. He clung to the wall and took one slow painful step after another. One at a time, not so bad.

“Sir?”

Another step. Stopping wouldn’t work except someone just caught his arm. He stared in confusion at the young robed woman looking up at him.

“We have a room for you sir. There aren’t many travellers currently.”

“Jowd.”

“Your companion? He’s being looked after. Don’t worry,” she said earnestly. “But if you’ll pardon my saying so you don’t look well at all.”

That wasn’t important. Only one thing was and that was making it to his side. Another step.

“Please sir. The priest mustn’t be disturbed while working. Get some rest now.”

No amount of vague orders to his feet prevented the woman from gently guiding him to the wrong room and toward the wrong empty bed. He dropped onto the edge of it and suddenly movement seemed impossible.

“There,” the woman said. “Is there anything I can get you? Are you injured?”

He shook his head. Even speaking suddenly seemed too much.

“Very well. Sleep now. Everything will be better after. You’ll see.” She bowed then left, closing the door softly behind her.

Cabanela fell back on the bed, his legs still hooked over the edge. He made a vague attempt at trying to kick off a boot before stopping. Removing anything felt like too much effort.

Everything will be better after. He stared at the ceiling. That wasn’t true, he thought and felt something prick at his eyes. Not everything. They were dead… He swallowed hard and the thoughts and images he held back crashed over him in a sudden wave. He didn’t make it. They were gone. Jowd had to be okay (but what if he wasn’t?) What if? They were gone and the tears came and flowed quietly until he fell into a fitful sleep.

He woke briefly to curse whatever being left his eyes feeling sticky and full of sand before the darkness reached out and pulled him back under. Then he awoke again, eyes still feeling too gritty, but he felt more aware. He scraped a hand across his eyes and tried to absorb his surroundings as his memories of the… previous? Day? Slowly rebuilt themselves.

Someone must have come to check on him. He was completely on the bed now under a blanket. His boots stood neatly by the door and his gloves lay on a small side table. He sat up slowly and, satisfied the room was going to remain still, rose to his feet.

Jowd.

He slipped back into his boots, left the room and nearly ran into the same woman who helped him before.

“Oh!” she exclaimed and smiled. “I was just coming to check on you. Your friend is awake. Praise be to Yevon.”

“The room over theeere, yes?” he asked only half returning the prayer before hurrying away.

Jowd was pale, but sitting up when Cabanela entered.

“Jowd!”

“There you are. I was starting to wonder if I was going to see you today.”

“Lookin’ after youuu is not a job I would wish on anyone, my friend,” Cabanela replied as he perched on the edge of the bed. Or grant, but that was beside the point.

Jowd sobered. “And you shouldn’t have had to.”

Cabanela held up a hand. “Don’t start that again. You’re here and aliiive. That’s what matters.”

“Alma… Yomiel…” Jowd sighed. “I asked if any summoners came or passed through recently. There’s no one. We were the last party.”

“We had to leave. We couldn’t have made it if we…”

“I know.” Something hardened in his expression. “We rest and then,”

“We go home,” Cabanela finished.

“Home… Yes, for now.”

Jowd’s gaze grew distant. His previous words came back to Cabanela and his dread deepened. ‘Not yet.’

“Jowd, I know when you’re having a teeerrible idea.”

“I don’t want to hear it.”

“And when has that ever stopped meee?” Cabanela asked with a weak grin before growing serious. “Whatever comes you’re not dealing with it alone. That’s all I have to say on the matter.” For now. Time and place. He knew how to choose his battles and it wasn’t here while Jowd was in this state. Maybe the time and place would never be right, but this was only one fight. He could afford one loss in the greater battle. He came too close to losing him once. It wasn’t going to happen again.

“Sparing me this time, huh?” Jowd asked.

“Not one to kick a man when he’s down,” Cabanela replied and if his cheer was forced he was comforted in knowing Jowd was currently unlikely to notice.

Jowd chuckled and their talk turned to lighter matters interspersed with heavier silences until Jowd grew drowsy.

They stayed at the temple for a few days until Jowd’s strength was recovered enough to travel. Then as morning dawned they set out. They were two instead of the four they should have been, but Cabanela found some comfort in knowing they were two and not the one it could have been or none.

Home. For now.

#ghost trick #ghost trick au #final fantasy x au #gt au #cabanela #jowd #gtxffx #ghost trick fic #ffxFic #help I got trapped in au maddness again #I wasn't even being very serious when I started babbling about it!#gt FFX au fic

5 notes · View notes

clonerightsagenda · 7 years

Text

Posting Gill’s bday fic over here with permission. It’s Rosemary-related and TLC compliant (with a couple of minor spoilers) but should be understandable even with no knowledge of the AU.

This is what you have learned from dating Rose Lalonde. Expect any room to fill up with clutter in her presence. Your attempts to keep things tidy are as effective as holding back the tide. Expect everything to take on the feel of an epic, like you might be summoned onto a world-altering quest at a moment’s notice. It’s like a human fairy tale, but the old kind, not remakes that are all glitter and talking animals. The stories with teeth.

Don’t expect her to say that she loves you.

Don’t take it personally either. That’s what you remind yourself. Rose resists sincerity. When you presented her with the first flowers you’d grown in the new greenhouse (roses; you’d been delighted to learn she’d been named for a flower), she’d laughed uncertainly like you’d unlocked an event she didn’t have a script for. Over the next week, as the blooms withered, they moved around. First you spotted them on the windowsill, then on her bedside table, in this vase or that one, like she couldn’t figure out what place they had in her life.

On the Land of Rays and Frogs, you encountered a puzzle path made of colored lily pads. If you stepped on the wrong one, it would buckle and deposit you in a mini-boss chamber before you returned to the start, weary and wiser. Navigating this relationship feels much the same. Some of your missteps now are the inevitable outcome of two species still learning about each other, but not all of them. After reading Rose’s walkthrough, you’d daydreamed of meeting its author. Now you think you need a walkthrough for her too.

The day after your tumultuous first date, Rose dumped her concoctions down the drain, saying she could embarrass herself perfectly well without the aid of depressants. Not even a week later, she set the equipment up again.

“It might come in handy for medicinal purposes,” she said when you asked her why she’d changed her mind. “Besides, it wasn’t all bad.” She winked. “We got some mileage out of it.”

You blushed, and your rainbow drinker glow briefly flared before you wrestled it under control again. In the first few weeks you hadn’t known how the rules changed when you moved from unofficial to official. Where did you put your eyes, or your hands? What were you allowed to say? “It did make you more forward.”

She laughed, and from the sharpness on her breath you realized she’d already been sampling her experiments. “I can be so fucking uptight sometimes. Maybe we all need to lighten up. Lighten up. Get it?”

“I get it,” you said. But you didn’t.

So you sought clarification from Dave. After you quested through the meteor, lipstick at the ready in case of clown sightings, you found him topside staring back the way you’d come. At the beginning of your journey, you’d taken turns stationing yourselves there, afraid Jack would catch up and resume his rampage when you least expected it. When he didn’t make an appearance, you’d all let your guards down, reducing sentry duty to a quick backward glance now and then. Was he keeping watch for Lord English now?

“Are you watching for Jack?” you asked.

He jumped and tried to cover it with a miniscule adjustment to his cape. “Nah. Watching Skeletor blast everyone to bits.”

“You and Rose have been up here a lot recently.”

“We both came up after the first killing, you know? It was so loud.” He rubbed at his eyes underneath his shades. His skin is a few shades lighter than his sibling’s, and you could see shadows there. “It’s been hard to sleep since then. At least she’s found a way to conk out.”

“About her newfound use of soporifics.” You hesitated, staring up at the flashing lights that were already becoming familiar. It’s amazing how fast you accustom yourselves to the unthinkable. “Is that normal for humans?”

He frowned. (Later, he’d tell you he hadn’t been sure how to respond. “I didn’t want to fuck it up for you two,” he said. “I didn’t think it’d get that bad.”) “Hard to say what’s normal in our situation. Guess a lot of people would pull out a bottle after everything we’ve gone through. Better than sticking a forty-five in your mouth. She’s always been extreme about reacting to things. It’s hard to believe we’re the same damn species sometimes, let alone siblings.”

“I didn’t think an outing with me is so terrible you have to be out of your wits to enjoy it.” You didn’t mean to sound petulant, but his eyebrows rose.

“She doesn’t mean it like that.”

“I thought you didn’t understand her.”

“It would take an institutional thinktank to really figure her out, but I do a little.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. He does that when he’s being serious sometimes. “I think the whole thing freaked her out. Freaks her out, present tense, if you’re officially an item now. Congrats, by the way.”

“Thank you.”

Another spiderweb of cracks blossomed above your heads. You could see them reflected in Dave’s shades as he said, “I don’t think she trusts anyone being nice to her 100%, that’s all. Not even me.”

Rose has been clean for months now in human terms. You both have. The first few weeks of your victory were spent dealing with the effects of abandoning your substances of choice. You stumbled around feeling as if you’d been dipped in concrete, your movements and thoughts slow and ponderous. Rose went days without sleep and flinched away from things the rest of you couldn’t see. Roxy warned you of what to expect, since she’d gone through the process before. She’s also the one who told you to remind Rose to eat. “She’s not gonna want to,” she said. “You feel gross all over and the last thing you want to do is stick more shit in your body, but if you don’t eat you’ll just feel crummier.”

You’d noticed her drinking her meals before, but you’d never brought it up beyond meaningful glances or the pointed placement of foodstuffs in her respiteblock. Rose has always been good at dodging questions. “Do you have any suggestions for a strategic approach? She’ll try to deflect me with witticisms. Her barbs are floppy at the edges right now, but my defenses are equally compromised.”

“That’s a cute way of saying you’re both fucked up.” Roxy shrugged. “I can’t beat her in a war of words, and I wouldn’t try. My advice? Sit on her and force feed her Saltines while telling her it’s for her own good.”

You had been skipping meals yourself. Even after eating normal food, you still felt hungry. Your system wanted something else to satisfy it, so what was the point? Rose latched on to that hypocrisy when you tried to nag her, so you’d end up sitting across the table from each other with plates of leftovers cold from the fridge, matching each other mouthful for mouthful. Whatever worked.

The worst of that is past now. But sometimes she still behaves in ways that make you wonder if after all these sweeps she really trusts you.

-- grimAuxiliatrix [GA] began pestering gardenGnostic [GG] -- GA: Jade GA: Shes Doing It Again GG: whos doing what? :o GA: You Know Who GA: Who Else Do I Come To You In Search Of Explanations For Their Inexplicable Habits GA: Show Some Space Player Solidarity Here GA: There Are So Few Of Us Who View Common Sense As Part Of A Complete Breakfast GG: for everyone else its an optional granola to sprinkle on top GA: The Recipe Said Season To Taste And Im Afraid Theres A Serious Lack Of That In The Premises GA: Ok Can We Cut The Extended Cooking Metaphor Out GG: yeah, it was getting a little meanspirited GA: That Too I Guess Mostly I Didnt Want To Get Stuck Exchanging Culinary Puns GG: ok, what terrible thing is rose doing now GA: She Has Locked Herself In Her Room And Has Been Listening To Her Playlist Designated For Angst For Three Hours GG: lol GG: that behavior cannot stand! GG: except it sort of can, since we all have a right to privacy GG: even if we exercise that right by listening to sad music all day GG: these things cannot be revoked for bad taste GA: Actually Most Of It Has Been Pretty Good GA: Filtering Through The Door Gives It Nice Acoustics GG: maybe you need to give her some... space :D :D :D GA: I Just Want To Know What Upset Her GA: She Says It Wasnt Me But I Dont Know If That Means It Wasnt Me Or It Was Me And I Am Expected To Work That Out On My Own GA: A Reassessment Of The Past Few Days Activities Hasnt Turned Up Anything Suspicious GG: i cant think of anything that might have upset her... GG: ohhhhhhhhhh GG: i think its her moms birthday GG: that might be it GA: How Did You Know GA: Is That Supposed To Be Common Knowledge GG: she complained one time about having to go to a fancy dinner GG: something thrown by her moms colleagues i think??? GG: her mom made her dress up in something frilly, she said she felt like an american girl doll GG: to be honest she sent a picture and i thought it was a cute dress!! GG: definitely not her style though GA: Im Impressed You Remember GG: i try to keep track of these things GG: it was nice hearing about everyones lives, i always wished I could do things like that GG: tell me your lususes birthday, i will put it in my calendar GA: I Never Knew It GA: I Wish Shed Told Me GA: Rose I Mean I Dont Think Wriggling Days Are Important For Virgin Mothergrubs GG: dont take it personally GG: she does it to all of us, and youre her girlfriend so she has to be EXTRA secretive about terrible and compromising things like emotions GA: That Logic Sounds Backward GG: the human mind is a complicated maze of mystery kanaya GA: Sounds Mysterious GG: it is GG: she probably doesnt realize its stressing you out, i know shes trying to be better about that kind of thing GG: you know, COMMUNICATION!! D: GA: No Please Anything But That GG: the achilles heel of our entire household GG: i can bug her if you want GA: No Thats Ok GA: Mostly I Wanted To Make Sure I Hadnt Caused This And Needed To Resolve It GA: If She Wants To Grieve By Herself I Understand GG: if shes still in there by dinner well root her out! GG: there is a limit to how many sad songs are good for your soul GA: Ok GA: In The Meantime Do You Have Any Work That Needs Doing In The Greenhouse GA: Id Like To Keep My Hands Busy GG: theres some stuff that needs deadheading on table three GG: do you want company? GA: No Thats Fine GA: Ill Talk To You Later GG: sure thing! -- ¬¬grimAuxiliatrix [GA] began pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] -- GA: Im Sorry About Your Mother TT: Who told you about that? GA: Jade TT: Figures. TT: Lousy goddamn supportive friends. GA: She Has Said She Will Flush You Out If You Dont Come Down To Dinner GA: Do You Feel Up To It GA: Otherwise I Can Convince Her To Leave You Be GA: She Is Easily Distracted From Her Resolutions If You Know How To Play Your Gaming Rectangles Right TT: No, I'll be there. TT: What time is it? GA: Half Past Five So No Rush GA: Im Still Gardening And Havent Washed Up TT: It might take me that long to get presentable. GA: Was Her Wriggling Day Important To You GA: I Admit The Concept Is New To Me GA: What With Our Ancestors Being So Far Removed From Our Lives And Our Guardians Being Literal Fauna Who Did Not Celebrate Notable Dates TT: It’s probably not even her real birthday. TT: We were all created on the same day, and I doubt anyone was on hand to record when her meteor touched down. TT: She must have picked a day she liked. TT: We used to give each other over-the-top gifts every year. TT: I thought she was being passive aggressive, so I reciprocated in turn. TT: The last year, I thought about getting her a bedazzled martini glass, but I didn’t get around to it. TT: Thank god. TT: I can only hope she interpreted my gestures as sincere as readily as I interpreted hers as sarcastic. TT: Otherwise she must have thought I was the worst daughter imaginable. GA: Im Sure She Didnt Think That TT: I wish I’d given her something better. TT: Something genuine. GA: I Was Working On A New Hat For Nepeta During The Game GA: I Got Some Monster Slime On Her Old One With A Sloppy Chainsaw Maneuver And Even Though She Said It Wasnt The First Time I Wanted To Make It Up To Her GA: And Help At Least One Of My Teammates Diversify Their Wardrobe TT: There’s always an ulterior motive, isn’t there? GA: You Tell Me GA: You Are The Expert In Decoding The Nefarious Meaning Hidden Within Every Exchange Of Pleasantries TT: It’s a secret code, Kanaya. TT: The sixth grader who tossed the newspaper into our yard this morning is working with the KGB. That’s what "Good morning" meant. This is well established in spy manuals. GA: My Knowledge Of Human Subterfuge Is Always Expanding GA: The Hat Was Supposed To Be A Surprise GA: Then I Found It In A Treasure Chest Not Long Into Our Journey GA: Theyre Gone And You Know That But Then You Find Something That Reminds You GA: Oh GA: Ill Never Give Her That Will I TT: I don’t know what I would’ve done if we’d lost anyone from our session. TT: Well, I do know. I have memories from a timeline where we lost half. TT: It wasn’t pretty. TT: I know in a lot of ways we got lucky. GA: Its Not A Contest GA: You Dont Have To Have Had It Worst To Feel Bad TT: I know. TT: But it’s hard. GA: See Look At Us Talking About Our Emotions Isnt That Nice GA: A Horrible Kind Of Nice TT: Or a nice kind of horrible. TT: Either or. GA: The Juxtaposition Is Key TT: I didn't mean to shut you out. GA: I Know You Need Privacy Sometimes GA: I Would Just Prefer To Know Whats Going On So I Dont Have To Worry About Whats Wrong GA: And You Know You Can Talk To Me TT: I know. Intellectually. TT: Is it weird I can trust you all with my life but not always with my feelings? GA: Kind Of GA: But I Get It GA: Were All Weird About Some Things TT: I'm trying to do better. And I'll let you know next time I need to indulge in a three-hour sad jams session so you won't worry. TT: Maybe after I've run through my playlist, we can even talk about it. GA: We Can Sit Awkwardly At A Table Waiting For The Other One To Break The Silence First TT: A tradition. GA: Also I Should Let You Know Its Stir Fry Night TT: Really? TT: You should have led with that. TT: Save me a seat.

As time passes, you all improve with hesitant steps that sometimes send you sliding back, sometimes not. Rose throws herself into her walkthrough, which she plans to distribute to anyone else caught up in SGRUB’s gears. Everyone is on consultant duty to flesh out areas of personal expertise. You, however, are her co-editor, a position of special privilege.

Rose views the work as one more way to help whatever players come after you. Your motivation is less selfless. Once, several sweeps and universes ago, an alien’s words found you and gave you something to hang on to. Somewhere, in a distant galaxy, someone else is being forced to play this game. Maybe your words can reach them, like Rose’s reached you. Working on the walkthrough now lets you build something together in a way that she won’t dismiss as sappy and overdone, a love letter for the universe.

That doesn’t mean you don’t run into difficulties, of course.

TT: Have you had a chance to look over the Prospit chapter? GA: Oh Uh GA: Ive Seen It TT: Did you have any feedback? TT: I'm going to ask Jade too, but I thought I'd give you the first shot. GA: Um GA: I Dont Know TT: Was it that off-base? TT: I know I'm a Derse dreamer, but I tried to be thorough. GA: Its More The Tone GA: You Wrote That Prospit May Look Friendlier But Should Still Be Viewed As An Antagonist Because It Has Ulterior Motives GA: And Maybe Thats True Especially About The Clouds GA: But My Time On The Moon Was The Brighter Portion Of My Childhood GA: And The People Of Prospit Were Always Kind To Me GA: So I Guess The Framing Made Those Memories Feel Kind Of GA: Threatened TT: Oh. GA: It Isnt A Logical Reaction TT: What do you think I should change? GA: I Dont Know GA: Maybe Nothing GA: Youre The Expert Here I Know Im Biased Toward My Moon Whatever Systems It Might Be Part Of GA: We All Take That View About Some Parts Of Our Youth Dont We GA: Even If It Was Part Of Something Bad We Remember The Good Moments GA: We Hold On To The Small Kindnesses TT: …Yeah. GA: You Can Disregard That Feedback GA: Youre The One With Writing Expertise And A Clear Goal In Mind GA: I Dont Really Know What Im Doing GA: Youre Better At This TT: I’m really not. TT: I just put on a more convincing show. TT: Don’t dismiss yourself. You have expertise in areas I don’t. GA: I Guess Im Not As Used To Putting Myself Out There TT: You can come up with a clever pen name. TT: There’s a tradition of vampires spelling their names backward. GA: Im Reformed TT: An anagram then, maybe. TT: Jokes aside, this is a collaborative project. We’ve got a Google doc and everything. TT: I don't want to intergalactically publish anything you're not comfortable with. TT: How about a revision session this evening? I'll bring Lofthouse cookies. GA: The Ones That Are Just Discs Of Sugar And Flour TT: With nary a redeeming nutritional quality in sight. TT: Keep that quiet, though. Jane would kill me if she knew I was smuggling them into the house. GA: Sounds Great Ill Be There

Rose’s typical drafting position is on her stomach with her laptop propped up on the pillow. You prefer to stretch your legs out with your back up against the wall. Thermoses of tea balance precariously between the two of you on the mattress.

“There’s been a lot of activity on the kernelsprite document,” Rose says, flicking through the pages. “Apparently Hal listed “100 advantages of being prototyped” and Dirk replaced it with “Most of this list is either illegal or immoral.” I’m turning track changes on to see what they were.”

You tap your fingers idly on the keys while your own husktop buffers. “Anything good?”

“Get away with murder,” she reads. “That’s cliché, you don’t even have to be a sprite for that. I think he just put it in there to be edgy. He’s trying so hard; you have to respect that. It’s like when I started buying black makeup to try to spite my mother.” She scrolls down further. “Oh, here’s a good one. Clip through the floor.”

“I’ve seen John do it. He’s not as original as he thinks he is.” You peer at her screen. “Eat your enemy’s phone. I’ll give him points for one. It’s not feasible for most mortals.”

Rose reaches across your legs for another cookie. “Sure, if you’re a coward.”

“I’ll accept that designation if it means avoiding a mouthful of circuitry.”

She chews thoughtfully and then flicks a sprinkle off onto the carpet. At least you’re in her room. Still, you feel a compulsion to pick it up. “About what you were saying earlier. I don’t want to contribute to any lingering insecurities.”

The change of topics catches you off guard. “They’re milling around in the lobby, but I’m not letting them upstairs.” You shrug, your shoulders sliding up the wall. “As we’ve been reminding each other, we can’t fix everything about ourselves immediately. I’m more confident than I used to be. I didn’t let Jake talk me into that routine with the glitter.”

“Shame.” She frowns at you, an expression diluted somewhat by a rim of frosting on her upper lip. “I’m not commandeering this project too much, am I? It’s nice to have something to be enthusiastic about again, but maybe I’m getting carried away.”

“No, you’re being very accommodating.” You squirm, smoothing out inconsequential creases in your skirt. Sometimes feelings don’t make sense. But once Rose decides she wants to talk about them, she tries to pin them to the page and dissect them. She does it because she wants to understand and help, the same way she wants to reverse engineer SBURB with words to assist players who come after. That doesn’t make the process any more pleasant when you’re the one on the operating table. “The problem is on my end, in the concern lobby. The lurking insecurities have been taking numbers for a while, and the counter is only up to twelve.”

“Like Inside Out crossed with a DMV? Hellish.” Rose picks up a pen and rolls it between her fingers. She likes to draft things longhand first sometimes. “I remember back on the last day of the game, you said you thought everyone burned brighter than you. You must’ve realized by now that my “burning brighter” is mostly because I have a habit of setting myself on fire.”

You’ll admit you’d been starstruck by the walkthrough’s mysterious author. It had been nice to harbor a new secret crush once Vriska was a lost cause. And you’d first met Rose face to face as a newly risen goddess bathed in the luminescence of the Green Sun. She’d seemed ethereal and beyond you.

Then, after the first few hours of sorting out living arrangements and watching Karkat roam around yelling for Gamzee to give the bodies back, she’d announced she was going to “sleep for a fucking week” and faceplanted into the nearest rug. Dave didn’t help beyond alchemizing some safety cones and setting them up around her. That had helped a little. So had seeing what her hair looks like in the mornings. “If you’re worried I have some unattainable vision of you set on a mental altar, rest easy. But you did restructure the multiverse with nothing but nerve, so I might still want your autograph a little.”

Rose brandishes the pen. “Only on the condition I get to sign your bra.” When you wave her away, she drops it on the pillow. “Spearheading the multiverse operation is one of my prouder accomplishments, I’ll admit, but my violet-tinged authorial prowess is entirely due to thinking I was hot shit as a pre-teen on the Internet. Besides, if we’re talking bragging rights, you fixed reality. Not to mention put up with us idiots for three years.”

“That was a struggle.” At times you’d wondered if you were the only one on the meteor keeping ahold of your wits. “Remember when the ceiling panels gave way and Gamzee fell onto the table?”

“Not our best group dinner. But you see, I’m a mess. You’re the one who has her act together.”

You frown. Being praised for your stability is a sore spot of yours. Yes, you’d been the one to bear everyone else’s struggles. That doesn’t mean you liked it. “I had to. Someone did. It got tiring after a while, though.”

Rose winces. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way. You shouldn’t have had to. But it is impressive that you did.”

“You were sick,” you say, in response to her apology.

You see her shoulder blades rise and fall in a muted shrug. “I know. But that doesn’t mean you should have had to deal with it.”

“I guess…” Maybe you’re the one who’s prompted her to speak up, but you struggle with your words too. Troll culture teaches you that open exchanges of feelings are for moirails. Palemates are the only people you can trust the depths of your soul to, if you can truly trust anyone at all. Humans don’t compartmentalize in the same way. You can see the benefits of that system, but you still fear saying the wrong thing will push her away. “You undercut yourself to tell me I’m better than I think I am. But if I’m already worried about measuring up to some standard, that just pushes us both lower. Do you see what I mean?”

“The self-deprecation’s not cute. Got it.” She twists around in what is probably some kind of advanced yoga pose to look you in the eye. “But you shouldn’t undersell yourself either, ok?”

When she doesn’t break eye contact, you nod reluctantly. “This is a very affirming argument we’re having.”

She reaches over and prods you with the pen. “I’m channeling Jake. Believe in yourself.”

You smile. “It’s hard to resist, these days.”

When you’re done for the evening, Rose captchalogues her laptop and you troop out. Everyone has their own room, but all of you tend to spend more of your nights in the common area curled up in armchairs or slumped over each other on sofas, within easy sight of each other when you wake from bad dreams. After a few weeks of intentionally lingering there until you fell asleep, you made it official and filled the whole room with soft materials like a huge communal pile. Terezi even taped up democratically-determined regulations. Rose spends some nights curled up next to you with her face shoved so close against your neck you wonder how she can breathe. Sometimes, though, she retreats to a corner with a pillow at her back like a wall. You know not to approach her then.

Tonight, she finds an empty patch of floor and drops down on it. You lower yourself next to her.

“Are you happy with the chapter now?” she asks.

“I’d like to give it another pass tomorrow, but it’s much better.”

“And everything else?”

“That’s better too.”

“Good.” She gives you a peck on the lips and, when Terezi wolfwhistles, flips her the bird and kisses you for real. You kiss her back, until… You pull away.

“Are you wearing my lip balm?”

“Maybe.” She purses the lips in question. “It’s got a good flavor.”

“I was wondering where that went. You know, you could have just asked to borrow it.” Grudgingly, anyway. She has a terrible habit of licking the stuff off and then reapplying it to start the cycle anew.

Rose raises an eyebrow. “You offered to do my laundry so you could steal my favorite shirt.”

You think, with only a modicum of guilt, of the shirt you have stashed behind the laundry basket in your closet. “It’s very soft.”

“I’m never getting that back, am I?”

“Probably not.”

She sticks her tongue out at you and pulls a blanket over her shoulders. “Night.”

“Good night,” you say. That’s the only endearment you exchange.

-- grimAuxiliatrix [GA] began pestering carcinoGeneticist [CG] -- GA: Karkat GA: Karkat Answer Your Phone I Know You Can See This GA: Youre Looking At It Right Now CG: YEAH I SURE AM. CG: I'M STARING AT THIS MARVELOUS HUNK OF PLASTIC AND ELECTRICITY IN MY HANDS AND REFLECTING ON HOW IT GRANTS US THE ABILITY TO COMMUNICATE WITH EACH OTHER FROM ANY DISTANCE. CG: SUCH AS, FOR EXAMPLE, EIGHT FUCKING FEET AWAY. GA: This Is Private CG: I DIDN'T KNOW WE HAD A CONCEPT OF PRIVACY ANYMORE. CG: COLOR ME SURPRISED, SO SOME THINGS ABOUT OUR LIVES *AREN’T* SUPPOSED TO BE COMMON KNOWLEDGE? GA: It Might Help If You Spoke With Any Kind Of Discretion Or Volume Control CG: NOT AN OPTION. CG: CARRY ON. GA: Youve Watched A Lot Of Human Romances GA: What Is The Appropriate Interval Before Affirmations Of Matespritship Are Exchanged GA: You Know Like GA: Uh CG: "I LOVE YOU"? GA: Yes That CG: THE FIRST STEP IS BEING ABLE TO TYPE IT INTO A PRIVATE CHAT SESSION WITHOUT BLUSHING. CG: I CAN SEE YOU OVER THERE. GA: Dammit GA: What Is The Waiting Period Here Like Three Sweeps CG: SO I GUESS SHE HASN'T DONE IT YET? GA: Well GA: Not Sober GA: She Was Quite Eager To Confess Admiration While On Soporifics GA: To Everyone And Everything Including Inanimate Objects GA: Im Not Sure Such Exchanges No Matter How Heartfelt Can Be Considered Fully Genuine CG: YOU'RE IN LUCK, A LOT OF HUMAN FILMS COVER THIS IN DEPTH. CG: IF YOU WANT I CAN ARRANGE A VIEWING SESSION WITH SOME MORE INFORMATIVE SELECTIONS. GA: That Might Be Fun GA: But Mostly I Would Appreciate Some Friendly Advice GA: As Educational As Im Sure The Latest Work Starring Anne Hathaway Would Be CG: AN EXECUTIVE SUMMARY IS: CG: IT USUALLY DOESN’T TAKE THIS LONG. CG: BUT THE CHARACTERS INVOLVED ARE OLDER, THE SAME SPECIES, AND HAVEN’T BEEN THROUGH A WAR, SO IT’S NOT A REPRESENTATIVE SAMPLE. CG: ARE YOU WORRIED ABOUT IT? GA: Not Exactly GA: I Know The Sentiment Is There GA: If Anything I Just Hope She Feels Comfortable Enough She Knows She Can Be Open With Me GA: Shes Trying But I Can Tell Its Still Difficult For Her CG: DAVE SAYS "its obvious shes crazy about you" SO NO WORRIES THERE. GA: Why Is Dave Part Of This Conversation CG: HE WALKED OVER AND LOOKED AT MY PHONE OVER THE BACK OF THE SOFA. CG: LIKE I SAID. PRIVACY = ZERO GA: Hi Dave CG: HE SAYS HI. GA: I Saw Him Wave GA: Now Tell Him To Go Away CG: AND HE’S GONE. CG: THE CHAT IS CLEAR OF FUTURE BROTHERS-IN-LAW. GA: Future What CG: THAT’S WHAT YOU’LL BE IF YOU AND ROSE GET "HUMAN MARRIED". CG: THE RITUAL MAKES YOU FAMILY WITH THEIR ENTIRE FAMILY. CG: I’M PRETTY SURE IT WAS HISTORICALLY DESIGNED TO ACQUIRE ECONOMIC AND POLITICAL ADVANTAGES. CG: YOU KNOW, KIND OF LIKE HOW INTERCASTE MOIRALLEGIANCES CAN AFFORD LOWER CASTES PROTECTION. CG: BUT IN MODERN TIMES MOSTLY IT MEANS YOU’RE STUCK WITH THOSE CHUCKLEFUCKS FOR LIFE AS A PACKAGE DEAL. GA: Oh No CG: OH YES. GA: Karkat I May Be Rethinking This Whole Venture CG: TOO LATE, I’M GOING TO BE YOUR BEST MAN. IT’S ALREADY DECIDED. GA: What Is A Best Man GA: Is It Whoever I Have Designated If I Were For Some Reason Obligated To Wed Someone Of That Gender CG: NO. CG: THE MOVIES AREN’T ENTIRELY CLEAR ABOUT THEIR ROLE, BUT IN GENERAL THEY GIVE HEARTFELT SPEECHES AND PROVIDE EMOTIONAL SUPPORT. GA: Maybe I Want Jake To Be My Best Man GA: He Can Recite Touching Monologues Ripped From The Silver Screen CG: YOU HAVE NO SAY IN THIS WHATSOEVER. CG: (YOU KNOW I’M JOKING, RIGHT?) GA: I Figured GA: Although I Wouldn’t Put It Past You To Try To Plan That Kind Of Thing Out For Me CG: HEY IF YOU EVER WANT IDEAS, I CAN THROW SOME OUT THERE. CG: YOU’RE WAY TOO YOUNG FOR THAT KIND OF THING THOUGH. CG: AND WE STILL HAVE TO GET YOU FROM POINT A TO POINT B, WHICH INVOLVES TRAVERSING THE ROCKY TERRAIN OF EMOTIONAL HONESTY, WITH WHICH I HAVE HAD NO PAST PROBLEMS AT ALL. CG: YOU COULD ALWAYS SAY IT FIRST YOURSELF I GUESS. CG: UNLESS YOU THINK THAT’LL MAKE HER EVEN MORE NERVOUS? GA: It Might GA: Outright Displays Of Emotion Embarrass Her She Relates It Too Much To Her Drunken Excesses And Those Of Her Mother GA: If I Can Be Permitted To Psychoanalyze Here GA: Shes Admitted As Much CG: THEN… LET HER KNOW SHE CAN FEEL COMFORTABLE? CG: THAT DOESN’T SOUND VERY EXCITING, BUT MAYBE IT DOESN’T HAVE TO. CG: THEY MAKE A BIG DEAL OUT OF IT IN THE MOVIES BUT I THINK AS LONG AS YOU’RE BOTH ON THE SAME PAGE WHETHER THOSE THREE EXACT WORDS HAVE ESCAPED YOUR QUIVERING CHUTE FLAPS DOESN’T MATTER ALL THAT MUCH. CG: THERE ARE OTHER WAYS TO SHOW YOU CARE. I’M PRETTY SURE YOU’VE GOT THAT COVERED. CG: MOVIES AREN’T ALWAYS THAT REALISTIC ABOUT WHICH PARTS OF A RELATIONSHIP ARE A FEDERAL FUCKING ISSUE VERSUS WHICH PARTS ARE NEGOTIABLE. GA: !! CG: YEAH YEAH RUB IT IN. CG: SO I RELIED ON THEM A LOT, IT’S NOT LIKE I HAD MUCH PERSONAL EXPERIENCE. GA: I Shouldnt Criticize This Was Helpful GA: Thanks For Listening GA: And I Would Like To Watch Movies With You Sometime If That Offer Is Still On The Table CG: DEFINITELY. CG: I’LL LET YOU KNOW WHEN I’VE GOT A GOOD LINEUP PULLED TOGETHER.

A few days later, Rose wanders into your room unannounced and flops onto the bed. This isn’t uncommon behavior, so you keep sorting through your clean laundry. Her cat behaves similarly, insinuating himself into a room as if he belongs there. It’s a lazy confidence you envy. “We should go out,” she says, directing her words at the ceiling.

“We should?” you ask, holding two socks up to see if they match. They don’t, exactly, but they are a pair. Rose knitted them for you herself. They’re lumpy and awkwardly shaped, and you treasure them.

“We were going to do something fun after the game, remember? That was the plan. But we've both been sick, and outside is...” Rose waves toward the window and the world it serves as a barrier against. “Outside, so we haven't gotten around to it. But we should. You’ve been in your room a lot. It’ll do us both good.”

Drat. Your downturns aren’t as explosive as the others’. Sometimes you simply withdraw, spending more time on your own while a mental screen descends between you and the world, distorting it like a blur filter. There’s nothing wrong with you, exactly; it’s just that you don’t have the energy. That’s not bad, right? There are worse things than numbness. “What were you thinking we could do?”

She sits up halfway and then flops back down again. The pillows bounce. “I was hoping you'd have some ideas.”

You twist the socks together and toss them into the appropriate drawer. “The only thing I remember suggesting was outfits without sleeves.”

“Compelling, but not really something to make a date out of.” Rose frowns. “Have we ever... had a normal date? By regular people's standards?”

“Troll or human?” You shake your head. “I don't think any species would give us a passing grade.”

“Earthworms might be impressed.”

You pout. “You've never taken me to any good plots of soil.”

“We'll do that next time. For now, Jane said someone needs to do the shopping.”

“You know how to sweep me off my feet.”

Rose, still prone, waves a list in your direction. “It'll be fun. We get to pick which flavor of potato chips we want, and everyone else has to live with it.”

If Alternia had anything like supermarkets, they hadn’t spread near your oasis. For all that your caste can stand the sun, the electric lights hurt your eyes. They’re too bright – a harsh white that makes all the bright colors look flat and artificial. You reach for Rose’s hand, and she squeezes it. “I appreciate the support,” you say, “but I wanted to see the list.”

“Oh. Right.” She brings it up for both of you to consult. “Does Jade know how expensive beef is? She’s really running us through it.”

“She’s been talking about growing vegetables for the household. It’s too bad she can’t raise her own cows.”

“Don’t give her ideas. She wouldn’t be able to bring herself to butcher them, not after we’d named them all.” Rose leads you to the back of the store and scoops up slabs of meat packed into tidy foam and plastic containers. The setup is so clinical your residual rainbow drinker instincts don’t even twitch. It’s a far cry from the Alternian pastime of slicing your dinner up while it’s still wriggling. “We need milk,” she begins, and trails off after she pivots to the left. “It was that way in my old store. But they must not follow a common plan.”

Rose looks unmoored now that her navigational confidence has been broken. A lot of the humans are like this, wavering when their world doesn’t behave the way they think it should. It’s almost easier for those of you who expect foreign ways and customs. It’s harder to be a stranger in your own home. “We’ll wander,” you say, and steer her firmly by the shoulder.

By a combination of trial and error and studying signage like relics of a lost civilization, you manage to gather everything on the list. The only problem comes when you pass a series of shelves stacked with bottles, and Rose stiffens. It takes a moment for the pieces to fall into place – you’ve never seen wine packaged in its original containers before.

”Come on,” you say, linking your arm with hers. “Help me test which limes are ripest.”

You have to tug for a moment before she comes with you. You don’t think she’s planning to make a running leap for the vintage. If anything, she looks like she does when there’s an enemy sighted, wary and ready to spring. If she destroys several wine racks with a blast of divine light, that’ll probably go on your bill.

”Sorry,” she says, once you’ve made it to the produce section. “At my old store, it was in a separate room. Not out in the open.”

You lean toward her a little, so your shoulders press together. “It took you by surprise.”

She leans back. “Like pulling down your sheets and seeing a spider in your bed.” You see a dot of blood on her lower lip. She must have bitten it. “It must be harder for you. There’s no getting away from all that blood walking around on two legs.”

”It’s easier not to slip up, though.” You reach over with your free hand and dab at her cut, wiping the smear on the side of your shirt. “They’d make a fuss if I tried to sample it.”

”That’s what recovering alcoholics need.” She swipes at her mouth herself, but the wound is already closing. “Wine bottles that scream when you open them.”

”You’ve uncovered a new industry.”

”I need to patent it immediately.”

You squeeze her arm before letting go. If she’s making jokes, that’s a good sign.

Rose perks up when you’re heading toward the checkout. “Hang on. We have to stop by the natural foods section.”

”We do?” You check the list again. There’s nothing left on it.

”You never know,” she says. Now it’s her turn to drag you along. “The cure to all our life’s problems might be hiding next to the apricot kernels.”

Her tone is mocking. “Is there something wrong with natural products?”

”Not on their own. Jade says a lot of processed food upsets her stomach after growing up without it. But some people will pitch organic to you as the cure for cancer, and if you’re telling me you feed your four-year-old Goji berries instead of getting him vaccinated, I think you’ve opened yourself up to public disdain.” Rose plucks a box of tea off the shelf. “Look at this one. It says it’ll revitalize your body and restore harmony to your thoughts. All for twelve dollars, too.”

”Sounds like a deal.”

”It would have its work cut out for it with us. Hey, if I drink Sleepy Time and Stay Alert blends at the same time, what do you think will happen?”

”You’ll shed your corporeal form and ascend to a being of pure consciousness, and that would be a shame, because I like your face.” You retrieve the boxes and put them back before she decides to do product testing. “Apparently these exotic grains cure depression with their wholesome vitamins and minerals.”

”Buy the whole shelf.”

She’s right; some of these products are ridiculous. The two of you are giggling over asparagus water when a middle-aged woman pushes past you with her shopping cart. A highblood couldn’t look down their nose better. “Are you girls done with that?” she asks.

”Definitely,” Rose says, straight-faced. “I’d recommend it. It made us gay.”

Rose did the talking there, and you were too busy laughing to think of how to react. But when you get to the cashier, your tongue twists in your mouth. You stammer through pleasantries until Rose rescues you and completes the transaction. You drift away while she's collecting the bags, pretending to peruse the week's advertisement flier.

“She was pretty,” Rose says when she joins you, groceries in tow. “Is that why you were stuttering?”

You take half the bags from her. It would have been polite to help her carry them from the conveyor belt, but you needed to escape. “Was she? I didn't notice.”

She nudges you with a conspiratorial grin. “You don't have to play coy. I won't get jealous.”

“I'm not playing coy.” You shift one of the bags over your wrist, and something inside crinkles. Hopefully you didn’t break anything. “Her face was a blur. I panicked.”

Rose’s smile fades. “I’d forgotten you could be shy.”

The automatic doors whoosh open as the two of you approach. You sidestep a mother and her offspring going the other direction. “When you grow up on an oasis where your nearest neighbors are the shambling undead, you're a little cautious of strangers.”

“But willing to send them messages on Pesterchum questioning their intelligence and morals.”

She printed your first conversation logs off and stuck them to her wall, which you find equally endearing and annoying. Every time you see them, you itch to pull out a pen and make edits. “That's different. We weren't face to face. And... this is all new, here. I worry they'll be able to tell.”

“That they'll scream “Space invader!” and cart you off to a top secret facility?

”I’m sure it’s funny to you,” you say with a sniff, starting across the parking lot. “They won’t dissect you.”

She smiles again – you meant her to; the dissection at least was a joke. “I get nervous too. Not as much now after everything we’ve been through, but I’ve always been hyperaware of social situations. But I tend to take the ‘don't get scared; get angry’ approach.”

You recall how she marched up to the conveyor belt and slammed down her purchases. “I did wonder if you were going to challenge the salesperson to a strife.”

“Chalk it up to the childhood narcissism. I always felt like everyone was passing judgment.”

You accidentally make eye contact with a man stepping out of his vehicle and redirect your gaze at Rose’s collarbone. “Like everyone's watching.”

She nods. “And that's not true. They have their own problems and couldn't care less what we do. We're not important to them. In this case, that's reassuring.”

You’re surprised she finds it comforting. You’re happy to fade into the background; Rose likes to be noticed. You’d never realized it frightened her too. “What a pair we make,” you say.

“Between us, we add up to one functional person.”

You pull open the car door for her with a flourish. “I'd be generous and say at least 1.5.”

A few of the humans have been working to get their licenses so Jane’s father doesn’t have to drive them everywhere. Rose only has a permit, but that doesn’t stop her from using the car. Seer powers let her know if there’s likely to be trouble, but otherwise she drives like she’s got a grudge against the pavement. She peels out of the parking spot and then slams on the brakes. You hug a carton of eggs to your chest so they don’t splatter against the windshield. “What is it?”

”We have cold bags for everything, right?”

”Yes.” It was overkill for a short trip, but you prefer to be prepared.

She pulls into the store’s partner gas station while you wave apologetically at the elderly woman she just cut off. “This is a date. We’re going to get coffee.”

The coffee machine is broken, so you both get 99 cent slushies and sit on the curb next to the free air pump. The parking spot is empty save for a mulch of cigarette butts and ripped up Lotto tickets. Rose slurps some of her concoction out of a straw. It’s a murky mess, and you spotted her squirting a few shots of energy drink in for good measure. You spent several minutes painstakingly creating a rainbow pattern and are now trying to drink evenly to keep the layers intact. A bag of chips slumps half-empty between you. They’ll complain about that back home, but it’s their fault for not coming along to supervise.

Rose sucks on her straw with a noise like a drain unclogging. “How’s this for romance and adventure?”

“I could do it again,” you say. And you could. The encounter with the cashier still leaves you shaken, but the haze has peeled off the world. It’s funny how after everything you’ve been through, something as simple like this can be energizing. There are groceries in the car that need to get back and a household worth of responsibilities to keep up with, but right now it could just be the two of you setting off on some new adventure. Rose has always made you feel that way. Light players make the world narrow around them, drawing in attention, compressing possibility. They’re a lantern you bump against, entranced. With Rose, you’ve found one that doesn’t burn.

”Well shit, these were ninety-nine cents.” She smirks in the way that means you’ve missed a joke. “I think our budget can afford it.”

”Thank you for dragging me out here.” Lurking in your room seems silly now. “It helps, borrowing your confidence.”

”It’s a show,” she says. “I don’t know how you manage to seem so centered all the time.”

”Amateur theatrics,” you say. “One functional person, here we are.” She raises her drink in a toast, and you knock them together. ”I mean it, though,” you continue. “It’s nice, the way you turn things into adventures. Even if it’s a shopping trip, I don’t know where we’re going to end up. It’s unpredictable, but I like it. I like spending time with you.”

She smiles and looks away. Whenever you’ve successfully induced emotions, she never wants to look you in the eye. “That slushy must have made an impression.”

”It was good.” You flick the straw, sending drops of condensation scattering across the asphalt. “We didn’t have anything like this at home, at least not where I grew up. That might explain part of the rapturous response. But mostly I think it’s because I love you.”

Rose stills. That might be a bad sign, but you’ve gotten yourself into this situation, so you might as well keep going. “I’m not trying to corner you,” you say, looking down at your knees. “I know you have difficulty expressing some things. But I wanted to express that. Right now.”

When you sneak a look over, her shoulders are shaking. The ice from your drink solidifies in your stomach until you realize she’s laughing.

”Do you know how long I’ve been agonizing over this?” she asks.

”I knew why,” you begin. “Your mother…” That’s not a complete sentence, but it doesn’t have to be. Sometimes you want to ask John to transport you into Rose’s past so you can grab the woman by her shoulders and shake her. “How could you be so careless?” you want to demand. “Didn’t you realize what you were doing?” You are all the results of what has been done to you, combined with your attempts to overcome it. Even with your universes gone, their impressions remain as indelible parts of you. You wouldn’t want Rose to be anything other than who she is, but that doesn’t stop you from wishing she could have gotten something better growing up.

“That was what started it.” Rose takes a gulp of her drink. The humor drains from her voice. Now she’ll look you in the eye. “She’d vanish into her laboratory or a drunken stupor and leave me to fend for myself. The first time I tried cooking spaghetti I set off the fire alarm. I couldn’t get it to stop until I climbed up on a chair and took the batteries out. She slept through the whole thing. So when she turned up with a new present, how could I believe it was sincere? And even if it was, it didn’t make up for anything. If all you can give is the trappings of love, like you’ve bought out a Valentines’ clearance sale but can’t be damned to raise your own child, it doesn’t count.” She sloshes the remains of her drink around with one hand and watches it like she’s reading tea leaves. “So I guess I distrusted all of it. The glitz, the performance, anything. Even the words. Because if you do it right, they should know. But… in the past I’ve been guilty of overcorrecting.”

“Really?” You try to keep your tone teasing. Anything else might alarm her.

She elbows you in the ribs, but not hard. “Sometimes I’ve turned the wheel a bit and drifted over the dividing line between reasonable responses and terrible decisions by a few millimeters.”

“I think a driving instructor might say you sailed over the median, engaged with oncoming traffic, and left the highway entirely for parts unknown. What?” you add. “I’ve read the manual you’re all practicing from.”

“Five dollars says you pass the test before I do. After the timeline John made unhappen, I realized I’d never told you. For all the wrong, stupid reasons. I shouldn’t have let any of that stop me. I would’ve died with that as one of my greatest regrets. So I wanted it to be perfect, since I made you wait so long.” She covers her mouth with one hand and smiles through her fingers. “God, you should see my search history. I watched promposal videos, although I wiped all that data and I’ll deny it if you tell anyone. And here we are –” she pauses and shakes her head - “in a gas station parking lot. But you know what? I think it fits.” She slings an arm around your shoulders and plants a sticky kiss on your cheek. “I love you. Let’s make it count.”

This is what you have learned from dating Rose Lalonde. Expect your lives to accumulate the clutter of experiences together – receipts and stolen shirts and empty packages still streaked with frosting. Expect to make missteps, because the two of you are walking an uncharted path one step after another. Sometimes you fall, fight your demons, and climb back up again. You are all doing this for the first time.

Expect her to say she loves you in unexpected ways. A new package of lip gloss left on your pillow. A flower pressed between the pages of a heavy book to make it delicate and perfect. Occasionally, the words.

Make it count.

#trying this one last time #kat writes fic #dare i put it in the tags....#nah #homestuck/

16 notes · View notes

sascerides · 7 years

Text

Someone Else’s Body - A (ghostly) short story

She hadn’t been in a body for a while when she opened her eyes. A year to be specific. It’s always a year. One day a year in a body. One day a year looking for unfinished business. Looking for rest. Year after year after year of never finding either.

The feeling was strange at first. It always is. Breathing in the cold air on this last day of October. Watching leaves fall to the ground. Wondering if the last body felt like this. It probably did but she did not remember.

She sat there for long. Feeling her fingers and her toes. Her lungs expanding with each breath. Did being alive always feel this strange? She wouldn’t know. Not anymore. It’s been so long. For years and years and years she has only experienced this one day every year. In a new body every year. Somebody else’s. What she does the rest of the year she couldn’t tell you if you asked. But no one ever does. People don’t ask that sort of thing.

Lorna Williams. That’s who she used to be.

For 23 years it was the only thing she’d ever tried to be. Well. Lorna Jackson until she met Harold but what difference does it make now?

She barely remembers his face. Only his grin when she fell. She no longer remembers much of who she was before that. Who she is today she didn’t know yet, but after all these years it barely matters.

This year she found herself sitting on a park bench. This body was young, she could tell because nothing was hurting yet. Somewhere inside, the real owner of it was asleep. But she let them sleep. From what she knows about humans, they probably need it more than her.

In the early years she wondered why. Why she kept coming back. Year after year after year. Was it because of what Harold did. Did she stop being Lorna too soon? Is she paying for something she did. Unfinished business.

That was back then. By now she doesn’t care anymore. Or as the humans say these days. I’ve run out of fucks to give. About fifty years ago to be precise. There is no business to finish anymore. It’s the same drill every year. Find out who you are. Take a deep breath. Try to get through the day without wrecking too much havoc. Go to sleep and no one will be the wiser. It’s tirering, really. But there’s no way around it.

When she opened her eyes this year it was afternoon already. Most of the day gone. That’s good. Less hassle for me.

She never knows what to do first. It’s like starting over every year. Figuring out how to walk, how to talk. Figuring out who she is this year and what she looks like. Silently hoping this year will be the last. Perhaps this year, I will finish my business. Perhaps this year, I can rest. She stood up. Blood rushing through the body she had borrowed. Wind on her face. The weight of a body on the feet on the ground. One foot in front of the other. This is how you do it. Here we go. Slowly walking in no particular direction, she found herself wandering into a store. Might be a store this body knew. No way to know yet.

The world has changed a lot over the years, she knows this. And yet, every year it looks the same. Women’s clothing stores look the same. Even if the clothes have changed. She walked through the store touching this and that item. Frills and denims and wools. Sweaters and jackets and jeans. Does no one wear velvet anymore? Lorna didn’t know what she was looking for. Perhaps, she just wanted to feel. She just wanted to see. To exist as much as she could right now. After all. Existence is fleeting and she knows that better than anyone. She was walking slowly. Letting her fingers run over fabrics. Listening to the music. The beat resonating in her bones, the singer almost screaming into her ears. Her eyes being stabbed by the sharp fake light of the store. The shop assistant speaking to someone behind her as she took out a dress to get a better look.

“Excuse me sir, can I help you!”

Even shop assistants still sounded the same. Lorna kept looking. Feeling the knit of a sweater that somehow glittered in the light.

“Excuse me? Sir?”

And then. A touch. Lightly. Gently on her elbow but it had been so long since someone touched her at all. She jumped. Turned around. Eyes wide. The shop assistant jumped back. Then her face lit up in a smile

“Donnie! I didn’t recognise you from behind. Sorry I scared you! Are you looking for anything?”

Donnie? Right. Lorna looked around for a mirror. Found she was standing right in front of one. The man who looked back at her from the mirror was tall. Handsome. His long, dark hair gathered in a bun, the shadows of a beard on his jaw. Donnie. I presume.

“Donnie? Are you looking for something?” The shop assistant asked again. “Something for Michelle?”

“Uhm... yeah…” Lorna said. Hearing Donnie’s voice for the first time.

“How is she?” How’s Michelle? Good question. And more to the point. Who is Michelle? “Michelle’s good yeah... she’s good” Lorna said searching the shop assistants face for clues. She looked surprised. “She’s getting better?” “Yeah” Lorna said. Hoping Michelle was getting better. Whoever she was. Or this could turn nasty for Donnie. Whoever he is. She tried a smile. Don’t wreck havoc. The shop assistant didn’t smile back. Don’t wreck havoc for gods sake, Lorna. Don’t bring attention to yourself. “It was a nasty fall she had” the shop assistant said. Something in her voice almost accusing. “Down the stairs”. “Yeah” Lorna said. “She’s getting better though. Little by little.” Distract her Lorna. Don’t wreck havoc. “I was thinking... maybe a scarf... it’s getting cold isn’t it?” She was 23 years old when it happened. Lorna. When Harold made it happen. One moment he was smiling and kissing her neck at the top of the stairs. Playfully. Like he always was. The next he was standing over her laughing a manic laugh that slowly turned to tears and then into a cold dead stare as he called up her mother from the phone in the living room. Lorna watching from above as he tearfully explained what had happened. None of it true of course but that did not matter now. Harold was long dead and so was she. None of it mattered now. “Donnie!” The shop assistant was handing her a scarf. Cashmere. Or something meant to feel like it. “You’re a bit spaced out today aren’t you?” “Huh?” Lorna said with Donnie’s voice. “Yes I suppose I am. This one is nice. Do you think she’ll like that?” “Yeah. Yeah I suppose she will. But... you don’t usually buy her things” the shop assistant winked “got anything to apologise for?” I don’t know. Does he? In the back of Donnie’s skull Lorna could still hear Harold laughing. Even after all these years. She had nothing to say. Don’t wreck havoc. Instead, she laughed Donnie’s laugh. It sounded like Harold’s. She bought the scarf and she left the store. Never looking back. No business to finish here it appears. The thing about borrowing someone else’s body for the day is you never know how much is you and how much is them. Lorna knew the way to Donnie’s home. Not because she’d been there before. But because bodies know that sort of thing. She simply allowed Donnie’s feet to take her there. Slow and steady. Letting the body do what Donnie would normally do. Don’t wreck havoc. She was feeling her feet on the asphalt, the weight of the scarf in her hand. The bow the shop assistant had put on the package. The taste of the smog in the air. Was living always this vivid? This loud?

She let Donnie’s feet bring her to a door, she felt in Donnie’s pocket for a key but found the door unlocked. Inside, he found a woman in the living room folding what she assumed was Donnie’s shirts.

Just as bodies know where home is. She has found they know who home is as well. Their hearts start to flutter when they see the one they love. Their stomachs get bubbly and their brains get lighter. Their faces get warmer and their palms get sweaty. She looked at the woman and Donnie’s body did none of this. Instead, she felt his chest tighten. She felt his fists clench and she saw the woman’s eyes widen in fear even as she smiled.

“Donnie Darling” She said and her voice was barely more than a whisper as she stood up “you’re early”.

The woman stepped closer, she held her breath and she kissed Donnie’s cheek “Is everything alright?” Lorna had held her own breath like that once. Many times. Back when she still had her own breath to hold. She would sit like that folding the laundry. Wearing a silken scarf to hide the bruises on her neck. Harold would come home all smiles and laughter and he would take her in his arms and kiss her. His kisses were always so gentle at first. His lips on her cheek and then on her mouth. His hands on her shoulders. First his palms then his fists. First his laughter then his shouts. It always went like that. Even now she could feel his fingers closing around her shoulders. His accusing eyes fixing her gaze. Even now she could feel her fingers closing around Michelle’s wrist Donnie’s eyes fixing hers. Michelle averting his gaze in a well rehearsed dance that the two of them had danced many times before. Bodies know what they usually do and Donnie’s hands knew where they would usually go. Michelle turning her head, unintentionally revealing a bruise on her neck. Michelle was pretty. She was small and thin, her eyes tired and large and scared. She was wearing a turtleneck shirt and Lorna knew all to well what it was meant to hide. She fell down the stairs. Just like I did. Just like Harold made me do.

Bodies know what they want to do but this wasn’t just Donnie’s body right now. Today it was Lorna’s too. She took a step back, letting go of Michelle’s wrist. Donnie’s hand shaking with Lorna’s shock.

“I’m” She said with Donnie’s voice but her own quiver “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you”

Michelle said nothing. She only stood. Her eyes narrowing as she tried to figure out her next move. She has heard this kind of lies before. Michelle swallowed. Then, she took a step backwards. Slowly bending down to pick up the laundry basket. Lifting it awkwardly, clearly in pain on her left side. She never took her eyes of Donnie. Lorna opened Donnie’s mouth. Then closed it again. She had no words. I never tried it from this side before. Michelle backed out of the room, putting the laundry basket down and returning. Her large, fearful eyes still locked on Donnie. She moves like an animal in a cage. Did I move like that? Did I look that scared. “I” Lorna started, Michelle freezing, suspicious. “I bought you a gift” she said, Donnie’s hand reaching down for the package on the floor. The bow had been squished, but it was still a gift. And she has no idea what to do with that. Lorna held the gift forward towards Michelle. Michelle smiled. Her form softened. As if she relaxed a bit. She’s thinking he’s good tonight. She’s thinking he’s come to his senses. She’s thinking he loves her again. Lorna remembered that feeling. She remembered those thoughts and she knew they were lies. She wanted to pull Donnie’s body away from Michelle. She wanted to run out the door. She wanted to tell Michelle it was all lies. That she was not Donnie. That she shouldn’t trust him. Instead, she stood there, silently, as Michelle took the gift and got up on her toes to kiss Donnie’s lips. A cold, unsure kiss. A hopeful kiss. A kiss that promised more than it was ever going to get in return. “It’s beautiful Donnie�� Michelle almost had tears in her eyes as she wrapped the scarf around her neck. “But... why?” “I just… I thought you deserved a present” Lorna said. The words sounded strange in Donnie’s voice. As if his voice wasn’t made for saying things like that. “You do so much for me” I love you. She almost said it. She almost did, but she knew it was a lie. She knew it wasn’t true. She knew those words would wreck more havoc than they would do good. She doesn’t need any more lies. She deserves better. Years ago, she had wanted desperately to hear Harold say those words. But it was not her place to say them now. It was not her place to give this woman hope. I may have business to finish, but this isn’t it. Then, something inside Donnie’s brain clicked and Lorna felt more herself than she had for years. She wasn’t just borrowing Donnie’s body for the day. Right now. This body was hers and she couldn’t keep her self back any more. She stepped forward and she touched Michelle. Gently. Michelle stiffened. Suspicious again. Suspicious of love and of gentleness. Suspicious of touch. Lorna held Michelle in her arms and she looked her straight in the eye. “He’s hurting you. Isn’t he?” She said. And the voice wasn’t Donnie’s. It was her own. Michelle ripped herself loose. She took a step back. Her eyes wide in fear and confusion. “What do mean? Who ’s hurting me?” Then, as if remembering herself she stepped forward again. Taking Donnie’s hand in her own. “I’m sorry. Donnie. Of course you’re not hurting me. I love you” She said. As if reading a script. And she has read it before. As did I. Back when. Lorna had no words. Had no idea how to get out of this. She took a deep breath. She looked at Michele. Standing there pale and scared and confused. The feeling of her kiss still lingering on Donnie’s lips. Then, she turned around and she let Donnie’s feet lead her into their bedroom. Leaving Michelle standing small and puzzled on the living room floor. “Donnie?” She heard her say behind her “What are you doing Donnie? Don’t you want your dinner”. Lorna grabbed a bag and she opened Donnie’s closet. She pulled down a shirt and stuffed it in the bag with the hanger still attached. What else will he need? What does he need to leave? She could not do this on auto pilot because this wasn’t something Donnie wanted to do. Inside. She could feel him stirring. Fighting back. She never did this before. She never fought against the body like this. She never messed in anybody’s life. But Donnie’s life needs messing in. She opened a drawer and pulled out socks. Underwear. A gun. A gun hidden underneath the socks. She stood there. Gun in hand. Breathing hard. Donnie slowly waking up inside her. Then, she heard Michelle’s footsteps in the hallway and she stuffed the gun in the bag and zipped it shot. Donnie stood in the front door. Lorna pulling him out of the house. Michelle crying in the hallway. Lost for words. “Donnie. Donnie don’t leave” Was all she said but Lorna could hear she didn’t mean it. She just knew this was was she was meant to say. Lorna put Donnie’s hand on the handle and she opened the door. She marched Donnie’s feet out the door and then she turned around. She opened Donnie’s mouth and she spoke with Donnie’s voice but not his mind. “You deserve better than me Michelle. You know you do”. Then, she closed the door as Michelle sank to the floor, tears in her eyes. Of relief or desperation Lorna could not tell and neither could Michelle. I remember that feeling and I still do not know. Lorna got in Donnie’s car and she drove him to a motel. She opened Donnie’s purse and she checked his body into a motel room. Inside, Donnie was reeling in his body. Afraid, angry, confused, Lorna let him, it was nothing to her. She let Donnie’s body sink down on the bed and there she is now. And where do I go from here?

---- Lorna sits on the bed in Donnie’s body. She can feel him fighting her form the inside. She can feel him waking up. Soon, she will leave Donnie’s body and her time as him will be over. She will go back to drifting. She will go back to non-existence to unrest and unfinished business. And Donnie will… What will Donnie do? Lorna thinks about Michelle. About her frightened eyes and her cold kiss. About the bruises on her neck and her fake smile. She thinks about Harold’s laughter when she fell and his tears when she did not get up again. When she closes Donnie’s eyes she can imagine Michelle lying there on the floor the way she did so many years ago. For now, Michelle is alive and safe at home. And Donnie. Donnie is sitting on a motel bed screaming inside his body while someone else is in control. About time he found out what that feels like. Lorna looks at the gun in Donnie’s bag. She looks at Donnie’s hands and she bends down and picks up the gun. Donnie’s hands tremble as he tries to regain control. Desperately. Lorna ignores him. She thinks about Michelle. About how scared and relieved she was to see Donnie leave. She thinks about herself lying on the floor. About the anger she felt watching Harold cry over her body. How she wanted to strangle him. To bring him to the ground. To drag him down to hell with her. About how she spent the first ten years in other people’s bodies trying to find him. Trying to find some way to get revenge. About how Harold lived his life happily and died peacefully in his sleep. It has been years since Lorna felt anything very much but right now she feels that anger again and she knows she won’t let Donnie leave this hotel room. She will not let him go back to Michelle. This ends here. And she will make it so.

Lorna holds the gun with Donnie’s hands. Donnie is fighting her but she is still in control. For just a little longer, there is nothing he can do.

She opens Donnie’s mouth and with his teeth she bites down on the barrel of the gun.

Perhaps this is my unfinished business.

This year, I challenged myself to write 12 stories. You can read more about that here.

This was story number 9 and I wrote it as a bit of a halloween special. Because. Well. Ghost stories are cool.

The rest of my stories are here

Thank you for reading :D

#short story #ghost story #horror short story #story #I wrote this #tw suicide #tw domestic abuse #tw ghosts #tw death

4 notes · View notes

lifeisawoman · 7 years

Text

Ao3

It’s 4:00 pm on a friday and Michael made sure to make his pickup before he met back up with Jeremy, the taller boy having had a panic attack the one time he decided to tag along despite being literally less than five minutes from his own home and inside a warm furnished basement. They only got it from Michael’s cousin, once it started becoming a more regular thing, so it really wasn't the most uncomfortable thing to go off and do alone. Michael gracefully threw his backpack onto the couch in his basement after he came inside, running to grab a lighter and that cool ball of hemp wick out of the drawer by his bed, toward the back wall of the basement before plopping down on the couch as well, ready to roll a blunt before his friend arrived.

Jeremy hesitantly walks into the basement right as Michael is licking the tobacco paper, making sure it sticks. He smiles at the smaller boy sitting on the couch and moves to join him, settling himself in the middle of the couch between Michael and his backpack. “What flavor is that?” Jeremy asks, skipping the pleasantries as they had only been apart for around half an hour; Long enough for Jeremy to get home and change out of the clothes he wore to school and for Michael to cop.

“He got me ‘Tropical Twist’, I guess it’s like a new summer flavor.” Michael answers, wiping his mouth. He gestures for Jeremy to hand him the lighter on the table and flicks it on, drying the now rolled blunt of his spit. Jeremy hums in consideration, leaning back into the couch. The darker haired teen sparks the lighter and smoothly lights the end of the blunt away from his face, taking a long pull and burning away the excess tobacco before handing it to his patient friend.

Jeremy takes the nicely pearled blunt from Michael’s hand, sitting himself up straighter against the back of the couch as to not restrict his lungs; He takes an earnest hit and starts choking as soon as the smoke travels down to his lungs, “Shit! It’s so harsh dude!” He complains through his coughs, a nerve setting in from the cough, sweat forming on his forehead as he tries to take control of his breathing once more. Michael guiltily takes the blunt again, “I mean yeah, it’s tobacco… Look I’m sorry hold on.” Jeremy watches Michael cross the room, casually smoking, puffs of smoke floating to the ceiling in calming swirls, the filipino boy kneels into his mini fridge and grabs a code red mountain dew, something they’d both find comfort in and drink often. Jeremy gratefully accepts the drink and guzzles some down, relishing in the moisture down his throat while the carbonation chokes him a small bit further, the bubbles irritating as they went down. “I’m a pussy.” Jeremy laughs, taking another sip of the drink in his hand, Michael busying himself with picking what music to blast from his Bluetooth speaker. “It’s just really tasty,” Michael explains, “Should I uh- Should I just pack a bowl?”

“No!” Jeremy chokes, not wanting to inconvenience his player two, “Let me just try again.” He insists, and Michael complies, taking another quick drag before passing the blunt to Jeremy again. He’s warm, sure his face is red and his sides cramping from what he assumes is the strain on his lungs. He’s high, just barely buzzed but it’s there. The hit he takes is small and he breathes the smoke out heavily, a noise heaving through his throat as he does his best to not cough again and Michael seems to have retreated toward the end of the couch more than before. “I have an idea.” The smaller teen spoke up softly, taking the blunt from Jeremy again and taking a long deep pull that honestly concerns his friend- How could his lungs do that? How much weed did this fucker actually smoke?

Jeremy couldn’t help but notice as Michael’s cheeks reddened and when he moves the blunt away from his lips how he keeps them pursed and then Michael was leaning in and Jeremy’s brain was swimming. Was Michael Mell, his best friend of several years about to kiss him? On the mouth? Why? What warranted this course of action? It wasn’t that Jeremy was complaining because, hey, it’s not like there hasn’t been some lingering thoughts, maybe some fantasies that he pushed to the back of his mind because wow that’s gay and probably fucked up because this is Michael: Jeremy’s best friend and player two (despite how Michael insists otherwise). His eyes flicker to the blank television in front of them, lingering on the reflection of himself and then Michael. Their foreheads touch and Jeremy preps himself, eyes shutting in anticipation of the connection. There’s a brief brush of their lips but no connection, instead a cloud of smoke is blown into Jeremy’s mouth, he inhales and wants to cry. This wasn’t anywhere near what he figured might happen today but once there was a possibility in his mind of something more, he felt rejected. He felt stupid for assuming and hurt for assuming incorrectly. He sighs the smoke back out, closing his eyes and Michael turns his head to take another pull, Jeremy desperate for the next hit. Michael exhales slowly, this time away from Jeremy’s face and the Jewish teen is left gazing at his damp lips, “Hey I didn’t cough that time.” He mentions offhandedly, hoping he’s not too obvious and Michael smiles.

“We can do that again. If you want to, I mean.” Jeremy goes red and nods a little too enthusiastically. Michael smiles sheepishly, taking another hit from the blunt and leaning into Jeremy. Michael’s heart swells at the sight of Jeremy bright red and sweating. He notes the way Jeremy’s eyes flicker between holding eye contact with Michael and glancing toward his lips and he decides to take the chance, connecting their lips. There’s a moment where the taller, paler of the two freezes and Michael lets the smoke seep from his mouth to Jeremy’s who promptly turns away and launches into a coughing fit, a hand clutching his chest. Michael’s face falls, clearly having read the situation wrong and wow, why did he think that could have been an okay thing to do? Sure they flirted with each other almost constantly but that was just them- okay maybe Michael started doing it because, yeah, he was kind of in love with Jeremy and figured he could joke about it but then Jeremy reciprocated and it turned into some sort of inside joke between them. Jeremy didn’t actually want to be with Michael, why did he kiss him?

Michael lets out a hesitant laugh once Jeremy’s calmed somewhat, reeling from the sudden high. “Whoops! My bad man…” Michael offers, trailing off as Jeremy gives him a panicked look. “Wai- Uh. Y-you didn’t… mean to?” The taller boy asks, sputtering and going red- redder, rather.

“I’m sorry.” Michael squeaks, putting out the blunt and moving to walk away from Jeremy and hopefully save himself some embarrassment. Jeremy watches him over the back of the couch, a bemused smile gracing his lips as Michael dramatically falls face first onto his bed. They were so dumb! This was so dumb! Why is this so awkward and dumb! Jeremy’s mind shouts at him, a voice eerily similar to a certain computer piece of shit but he shakes it off. It’s a few minutes of silence and overthinking on both parties, Jeremy trying to come down a little before he thinks, fuck it, and goes to Michael’s pancake form still unmoving on his bed.

Michael jumps when a hand touches his back but decides it’s ultimately a wiser decision to keep his face buried in the pillow he’s clutching. Jeremy sighs and rubs circles into Michael’s back before working up the courage to just ask him the question on his mind like a normal fucking human being. “Do you… like me?” He asks wearily, noting the way Michael tenses and quickly turns around and bolts upright on the bed,

“Of course!” He says, face red and Jeremy can’t help but find it adorable. It’s not often he gets to see a flustered Michael; The guy was so high he was basically always chilling.

“Michael…” He murmurs, giving him a pointed look that read he knew his friend wasn’t being completely honest.

“Dude.” Michael groans, throwing his head back, “I really- this isn’t like the time to talk about this.” He whines out, and Jeremy frowns, shaking his head.

“No? You don’t want to talk about feelings after kissing me?” Jeremy questions, the words coming out a lot harsher than he’d intended, “I mean! I’m not mad or anything, obviously! I uh- I really want to know if like? That was a thing you’d maybe wanted to do or if it was like… actually an accident because it didnt… y’know… feel like one? ” He explains, hands flapping about nervously as he spoke and Michael cringes, curling in around himself.

“Yes. Yeah okay?!” Michael cuts Jeremy off, fed up with the bombardment, feeling his anxiety building up very rapidly, “I’m stupidly like- I like you a lot, okay?!” He yells, almost too defencive, waiting for his best friend to walk out of his life for the second time in a year. Before either of them realize, there are tears welling in Michael’s eyes and it’s heartbreaking for Jeremy to witness, guiltily thinking back to Michael crying and yelling out what Jeremy’s abandonment did to him, of scooping Michael up in his arms and promising to never fuck it up again.

“Michael…” He offers, a hand gently guiding the smaller teen into his long pale arms and holding hims to his chest tight, “It’s okay. I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?” Michael peeks up, taking a few seconds to wipe at his eyes, “I’m sorry! I- I made this weird. I kissed you cause I’m a fucking idiot and I know you-”

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence because Jeremy’s lips are on his for the second time that night and he feels like the world stopped. The basement is absolutely silent and there’s only a dim artificial yellow glow lighting the room, Michael having not deemed it late enough in the day to plug in his lava lamp or fairy lights that string around his “bedroom area” of the basement. The kiss itself was really anything but extraordinary, just a poorly aimed pressing of lips but Michael felt his heart melt. It only lasted a few seconds, enough to sufficiently tell Michael he was wrong and shut up his stupid, gorgeous, self deprecating lips.

“I liked it, you dense fuck.” Jeremy laughs, using his palm to brush back Michael’s hair and they stare at each other red faced and grinning for a few seconds.

“Do you like me?” Michael asks, clearly still attempting to process the events of the past fifteen minutes.

Jeremy rolls his eyes and kisses Michael again, figuring that’s as good of an answer as he can give but Michael breaks the kiss after a few seconds, “Words, Jeremy.” He insists and the boy in question flushes, quick to bring his hands to cover his face.

“Oh my god, Michael! Yes.” He almost screams, frustrated. “Can I kiss your dumb face now?” He pleads, running a hand through his own hair and silently praying he doesn’t look like a complete blushing virgin but, really, he’s learned you can’t really hide who you are. Michael laughs and wipes at his eyes once more, “Are we idiots?” He asks.

“Yes?” Jeremy answers almost instantly, and Michael gives him a scolding look,

“I mean… I’ve had a huge gay crush on you for years and like- all it takes is a little weed and some shotgunning and all the sudden you like me and I’m just- I’m shook. Just give me a second, okay? This is like when Christine said she’d go out with you, right? I just need a minute.”

Jeremy grins and shakes his head, “I don’t like Christine anymore.”

“I know.” Michael clarifies, smiling softly, almost shy. “You like me now."

Jeremy grins and nods enthusiastically, “A lot.” He confirms, taking Michael’s hands in his, “I can wait as long as you need.”

Michael smiles and sloppily lunges forward to capture Jeremy in a kiss, or what would have been a kiss if Jermey didn’t fall backward onto the bed, pulling Michael down to lay across his torso, “Hey, I was trying to do something.” Michael whines, awkwardly scooting his body up so he was face to face with Jeremy again, he made sure to be slow this time, giving Jeremy enough of a warning and smooches that boy with all the love he’s been building in his heart for several years. Jeremy smiles against his lips and there’s a silent wave of calm and comfort that washes over them, lying together on Michael’s full sized bed in the Mell basement.

“I think I love you.” Michael whispers once they break apart again and Jeremy sighs in contentment.

“I think I love you too.”

#boyf riends #meremy hell #meremy #two player gays #be more chill #bmc #Michael mell #Jeremy Heere #fluff #fanfiction #fan fiction #i hate my life lmao #dovedapple #request #what else do i tag this with?#weed #marijuana #shotgunning

118 notes · View notes

phynxrizng · 7 years

Text

MONTHLY ASTRO FORECASTS, APRIL 2017

Respond to this postbyreplying abovethis line

New post on Witches Of The Craft®

159694 by mistressmyst Monthly Astro-Forecasts April 2017

a message from Sarah-Jane Grace To view more of Sarah-Jane's insight, visit her website at Sarah-Jane Grace Message for April 2017 Like the sap rising in the trees, and the daffodils turning their heads to the lengthening days of sunshine, there’s a growing sense of shift emerging from deep within our hearts and souls. In many ways, it’s hard to articulate as it’s a feeling which is still taking shape and form so there are no words that can adequately do it justice. Yet, like the sap rising, the energy is vibrant and intense, and it’s important we acknowledge it to allow it more breathing space to flourish and thrive.

Of course, it’s part of human nature to want to understand and make sense of change but it’s an important part of our evolution to accept that there are times where, no matter how hard we look, there are no answers. Wholeheartedly accepting (and not resisting) this takes both trust and courage but these are essential traits on our journey in life. We are undoubtedly in confusing times and there are paradoxes everywhere as we can feel both overwhelmed and underwhelmed, joy and pain, calm and stormy, all at the same time. In the blink of an eye we can shift from having a clear sense of direction to feeling hopelessly lost and alone. Of course, many don’t notice much of this as the change can be on subtle levels and, as we know, lots of individuals never skim beyond the surface of life, so it’s usually those of us on a quest for meaning who feel the true epicentre of shift. Perhaps we feel it because we’re looking for it or maybe we feel it simply because we’re more ‘sensitive’ and in tune to the ebb and flow of the currents of life?

There have been several occasions recently when well-meaning friends have asked me to see the higher, or deeper, meaning to some on-going challenges in connection to my new home, in particular, recurring plumbing problems. I've been asked to look at what water means to me and what is it within me that’s creating these problems. I've had to step back from this perspective as there are times when seeking out meaning or answers actually doesn’t help. I have plumbing problems because of shoddy workmanship, no more, no less! If I look deeper into it, how does that help me? And if I do look deeper into it, would I feel responsible for these problems making me feel more of a victim? Sometimes ‘it is what it is’ and although it’s in our nature to look deeper, it’s not always in our best interests. It’s important to let our intuition lead the way and nudge us when we need to take a longer look at something.

Yet, how do we know? If the answer to that question was clear, wouldn’t life be so much simpler! Trust is our closest ally, so although we cannot articulate the spiritual and metaphorical sap rising up within us, if it feels right, why not see where it takes us before asking too many questions?

Of course, such a philosophy is perhaps easier said than done when we feel discombobulated and disorientated in a landscape that feels continually out of focus, but resisting and struggling doesn’t bring clarity, only more pain and confusion, so, despite our inherent human-ness to want to re-focus, we can’t. Not yet anyway.

Accepting and allowing this takes strength and we may feel unable to dig any deeper or find any more reserves but that’s the point: we need to stop digging and learn how to let go. It’s undoubtedly hard trying to go against instinct but we are evolving, and taking new steps into unchartered terrain isn’t easy but it’s time to breathe and let go…

With love,

Sarah-Jane

Aries

♈

April looks set to be a month of new beginnings and fresh creations as you draw near the end of a long chapter of your life. Although there have been times when this chapter has felt challenging, arduous and unforgiving, there have also been lighter, more enjoyable moments at the same time. In fact, when you look back and see the bigger picture, you’ve realised just how much you’ve grown and evolved as a person, and you are now wiser and more in-balance than ever before. The benefit of hindsight is always so much easier with the benefit of hindsight! There is a powerful and effervescent air of anticipation rising up within you as you begin to sense the tinglings of change and you can almost taste the shift in direction as you eagerly stride forwards with confidence and a strong sense of self-belief.

There can be no denying you are feeling more centred and self-aware than ever before, but, underneath your usual confidence, there is a sense of trepidation as, although you intuitively know you are on the right path, at the same time, you have no real idea as to where you are going or why. Life can certainly be confusing at times and it’s important you allow yourself to acknowledge this confusion as blustering your way through it may leave you feeling even more discombobulated than ever. Acknowledging this doesn’t mean you will then get lost in a haze of befuddled bewilderment, it simply allows you a little bit of breathing space to re-align your thoughts and to gain a stronger sense of clarity and direction. You may be keen to charge ahead into the next chapter of your life but there’s no rush: take a deep breath and let your intuition lead the way…

Taurus

♉

You have spent much of the last few months bringing together the many different pieces of your life into a more cohesive and unified ‘whole’, and this has enabled you to take stock and acknowledge where you are now with where you were and where you’d like to be. At the same time, you have had the opportunity to contemplate your true priorities and to think about what you really want in life. However, despite all of this positivity, you have, in reality, had very little time to notice these shifts as you have been so busy with things to do, people to see and places to go. It’s as though your life has been on fast forward and whilst you have a sense of inner coalescence and unification, you have been too busy to be still or rest in the moment. Yet, at the same time, you have been noticing the spaces in-between the spaces, and with each brief flicker of awareness of ‘space’, your consciousness has been tickled with the concept of there being more to life than constantly working through a never-ending to-do list.

As a result, despite being on fast-forward, you have also been breathing more deeply into life and April looks set to be a month of continued coalescence and cohesiveness as you start to find ways of living your life with more stillness and awareness, and less rush and busy-ness. Stillness is not inaction, it’s a willingness to let go of the rush and hustle, and the somewhat frenetic nature of your everyday life, to instead live in a more conscious and mindful way. Busy-ness keeps you distracted from facing that gap between where you are and where you want to be, but you seem ready now to not only face the gap but to leap across it as well…

Gemini

♊

There is a sense that you are, once again, beginning to see the world with fresh eyes and a new-found awareness and awe. It’s as though you are seeing everything for the first time and your senses are awakening to a brand-new world; sounds are clearer, colours are brighter and you can sense every heartbeat and breath. It’s overwhelming but completely natural at the same time and you are tingling with a magical, child-like wonder at the world in which you find yourself. Of course, this world is the world you’ve always lived in, it’s just that you are growing ever-more aware of the magic, both within and around you. This isn’t magic as in white rabbits and card tricks, this is the inherent magic of life and the universe: the force that makes stuff happen. Stuff like creative thought, life itself, consciousness.

Every single one of the trillions of cells in your being are buzzing and tingling with the magic of existence and although this is all quite heady and pungent, you intuitively know it to be true as you cannot help but sense the passion and creativity rising up from deep within you. Although there are days when you feel overwhelmed with the awe-inspiring vastness of your consciousness, there are also days when you punch the air with delight and brim over with excitement at the possibilities before you as they inspire and electrify you. You are a creative and innovative soul, and you know that it’s the time spent in the magic of awareness that brings you to life and enables you to navigate your way through the pedestrian everyday world. April looks set to stir the fires in your soul to inspire you to embrace the enchantment and to let your true self shine…

Cancer

♋

April looks set to be a month for embracing the new as you embark upon a new chapter in your life. Of course, along with the new, comes a need to shed the old, otherwise you end up accumulating a never-ending pile of ‘stuff’! Embracing the new is often far easier than letting go of the old, as you, like everyone else, is a creature of habit. Yet, intuitively you sense the need for a ‘spring clean’ as you are feeling somewhat cluttered and it’s hard to move freely through life when you feel weighed down. Knowing what to let go of can be hard though as there are so many snippets and pieces of you that ‘might come in handy’, so do you risk letting them go just in case you may need them again in years to come or do you take a chance and say ‘adieu’? This is one question which sadly doesn’t have a clear-cut answer as there are no guaranteed outcomes in life. However, travelling more lightly is something you’ve wanted to do for a long time so why not give it a try?

There are moments of being human that feel inspired and then there’s the rest of existence that feels quite mundane in comparison, and whilst the latter takes up 99% of life, that 1% reminds you how important it is to breathe deeply into life and to make the most of every single moment. Your life may be full of distractions and things to do, but, when it boils down to it, you already know exactly what you were born to do, you just have a tendency to avoid acknowledging it! This is mainly because it feels simpler to go with the flow than it does to step into unchartered terrain but this is your new chapter, and you have the pen in your hand, so the rest is up to you…

Leo

♌

As you continue to gaze deeply within, there is a growing sense you are beginning to make some profound realisations about your true essence and sense of self. You have always been a pioneer, keen to explore unchartered terrain and you have never been one to shirk away from the challenge of self-questioning and honest reflection. When you look into the mirror of your soul, you see what’s really there so it’s no surprise you’re not overly keen to do this too often as it’s quite a profound and intense experience! It’s not that you don’t like what you see, but soul-gazing often highlights the gaps between where you are and where you intuitively know you need to be; it also shows you every aspect of your being, including those parts you are not overly fond of. Yet, everyone has those, you’re certainly not alone in that department!

It seems the reality of your reality leaves you nowhere to hide as you are not a natural at head-in-the-sand denial (well, not in this instance, anyway!). So, you get the opportunity to gaze within to see your true essence and yet this also brings an element of trepidation as you’re then not quite sure what to do with all you see. Why do you need to do anything? Couldn’t you just observe this bigger picture of your true majesty and magnificence, and, rather than doing something with what you see, use it as a compass or guide to inspire you forwards? Couldn’t you simply bathe in the energy of the gift of this insight and let it lead the way? You seem unquestionably ready for ‘something new’, and, even though this is yet to be clearly defined, it seems you are ready now to begin the process of becoming truly and wholeheartedly awake…

Virgo

♍

April looks set to be a month of innovative and inspirational thought as you begin to feel the urge to step beyond the boundaries of the four walls of your everyday life in order to contemplate a more enriching and fulfilling way of living and being. Contemplating this is the easy part though as the reality of doing something about it is somewhat more complicated! However, you are not one to be easily deterred by such things and there is a growing air of resilience and determination rising up from within you spurring you on to find a way to be the ‘you’ you know yourself to be. It’s not that you are not you, but, over the years, you have deviated off-course, trying to be everything to everyone and trying to get life right. This is to be admired but the cost has been a distancing from your true sense of self and this has resulted in a diminished awareness of personal destiny as the waters have muddied and your focus shifted towards the business of keeping on keeping on rather than the matter of exploring your true essence.

Survival is obviously an inevitable part of life, but it doesn’t have to remain as the force that shapes and defines the rest of your life. You created those four walls of your everyday life so why can’t you re-design them, move them or knock them down? In other words, the boundaries around you are only there because you perceive them to be there. You are a free spirit and although you intuitively know this, you forget you have the skill, passion and tenacity to move those boundaries or blast them out of the way if you so choose. You have reached a crossroads of self-awareness: an opportunity to carry on as you are or to take a step in a different direction…

Libra

♎

April looks set to be a month of insight and expansion as you connect with a new perspective that inspires you to see your life from a different vantage point. Sometimes seeing the same problem/situation from a different angle really can make the world of difference! As a result, there is a growing sense you will start to become aware of aspects of your life which may no longer feel right; you may not be able to work out why, but intuitively you know something is amiss. In time, things are likely to become clearer but for now it seems important to acknowledge these shifts and to allow yourself a little bit of breathing space to adjust and acclimatise to the shifting sands of your life. At the same time, there is a need for you to explore the concept of living wholeheartedly and to contemplate what this truly means to you.

You are very good at knowing where you are in life and where you need to be, you are also very wise when it comes to the concept of the present moment but it’s easy for you to get lost when it comes to grabbing hold of life with both hands and being here, now. It’s not that you avoid life, but you often think about it, cogitating over the finer details and philosophising over the existential meanderings of being human. Whilst this adds to your character, it does run the risk of you feeling powerless like driftwood rather than majestically standing at the helm of the ship. Don’t get lost in over-thinking, try to be wholehearted in every aspect of your existence: be present, be vibrant and allow your true, sparkling essence to shine brightly. Be open to seeing your life from all angles and don’t forget to live, and to love, wholeheartedly…

Scorpio

♏

April looks set to be a month of illumination and enlightenment for you as you continue to embrace the concept of letting go. This has been a powerful theme for you over recent months as your consciousness has shifted away from linear time (where you’ve been and where you’re heading) towards a bigger picture perspective which feels more liberating and expansive than you ever imagined possible (and, with the enormity of your imagination, that’s big). The bigger picture is not really connected to the details of how you live your life but it’s more about the energy or essence of being you: in short, it’s the flicker of the flame burning in your heart and soul, the ripple on the surface of your mysterious depths. There really are no words to describe this aptly as your essence is indescribable (by the way, that’s a compliment!).

You are riding a wave at the moment and although you would love to know your destination it actually seems more important to be at one with the wave and to feel the rush of adrenalin as you soar in order to feel fully awake and alive in the moment. In other words, try not to get lost looking for details and instead savour the moment and remember the concept of letting go. Letting go is an art form and it’s one you have resisted at times as you cannot help but feel it’s rather too similar to giving up; it isn’t. For you, letting go is a willingness to stop trying to be the person you think you should be or ought to be. It’s also being open-hearted and open-minded to the power of the aforementioned wave to take you to wherever you need to be in life. Take a breath, feel the energy of the moment and soar…

Sagittarius

♐

April looks set to be a month of more questions. In fact, the same questions as last month. What do you truly want? What makes you happy? Not wanting to sound like a stuck record, it seems the reasons you are, once again, being asked these questions is the fact you haven’t answered! You have long had a to-do list for life, a bucket list of things to do, see and achieve. In many ways, you measure your happiness against this list, feeling happiness will be yours once you have done everything you need to do to be happy. Whilst there is logic in this approach it does put happiness slightly out of reach as you are always adding new points and caveats to your list. Does this mean happiness can never be yours or does it mean you need to stop chasing happiness and instead realise it’s here, now?

There is a long-held belief that happiness is the default setting which emerges once life is ‘sorted’ and once everything that creates unhappiness has been either fixed or eradicated. This way of thinking doesn’t allow for the idea that happiness is a force of its own that needs to be cultivated and nurtured. So, when asked what makes you happy, this isn’t time to produce a list of things to achieve to reach the nirvana-like state of happiness, it’s asking you to feel a connection to the essence of happiness and to allow this feeling to build and grow in order to connect you to the energy of happiness. It’s not far off on the distant horizon, it’s here now, just be open to it rather than feel you haven’t got there yet. Happiness isn’t measured by what you do or achieve, it’s a feeling, a state of being, which sets your soul on fire; feel it, become it…

Capricorn

♑

Someone once said: ‘even a stopped clock is right twice a day’. One could argue that it’s only right by accident as it’s not a functioning clock but this makes the assumption that the clock wasn’t built to only be right twice a day. It’s something of a lame possibility but it’s a possibility all the same! There’s a saying in the medical world ‘when you hear the sound of hoof beats, think horses not zebras’ suggesting a need to look for the obvious not for anything rarer. Yet, zebras exist and they really aren’t anything like horses, for a start they don’t neigh they yip, and, a group of zebras is called a dazzle. You may be wondering the point of these seemingly random thoughts, well, sometimes you need to see that a stopped clock may not be right for 1438 minutes of the day, but for those precious two minutes when it is right, everything is exactly as it should be.

Life isn’t perfect but there are moments of ‘almost perfection’ which have the potential to be great if only you didn’t just see them as random accidents to be dismissed. And, why not look for zebras? Why look for the obvious? Why not think zebra and dazzle rather than be a part of the flock of ‘obvious’? Okay, so maybe this is now getting confusing but it needn’t be! In essence there is a need to be more accepting of the good stuff, don’t be so keen to undermine it with logic and be prepared to look beyond the obvious. Sometimes, the really good stuff in life is tucked away in the corners of the unobvious; intuitively you know this but you don’t look as you’re too busy keeping on keeping on, sticking to the tried and tested. Well, it’s time to step beyond the boundaries of your everyday life as you learn how to dazzle and shine…

Aquarius

♒

As you continue to focus your gaze on the here and now, there is a sense that you are beginning to realise just how small the gap is between where you are and where you feel you need to be. In fact, the more you focus on where you are, the more you are realising you are already exactly where you need to be. In short, you have pulled your expectations and hopes back into the present moment rather than leaving them perched high up on a pedestal on the ever-distant horizon. This doesn’t mean you’ve lowered your expectations, more that you’ve realised you are actually already living the life you were born to live, and, as a result, your dreams are not out of reach but within your grasp. You are a born thinker and idealist, and you have high hopes for your vision of what ought to be; this vision has grown and shaped over years and, like water slowly carving out limestone caverns, it has turned into something quite spectacular and majestic leaving you in awe and wonder.

However, just because you have forged out such a vision doesn’t mean you can’t re-shape or re-define it. Even stone can be re-worked. Of course, using stone as an analogy for your vision is perhaps not wise as there really is nothing concrete about you as you are more of a fluid and free thinker. Yet, the cavern analogy works as you do seem to struggle with the concept of feeling able to re-shape what you have already created. It’s time to believe that you are the master of your own vision and you do have the power to re-shape it once again if you so choose. In many ways, acknowledging this is more important than actually changing your vision as it’s a willingness to be open to the ebb and flow of the changing currents of your life that can truly set you free...

Pisces

♓

As you continue to allow the vibrant and beautiful kaleidoscope of colours to flow freely from your heart and soul, there is a sense your creativity is beginning to surge back into life once again. You have always been a creative soul but there have been times of your life when this has log-jammed due to stress or taking on too much. Creativity is your life-blood, it’s the force that inspires and motivates you. Creativity is not just about painting or weaving or being artistic, it’s a way of being that allows you to live in an interconnected way; your way of making sense of the world is to channel your emotions into creative thought, creative feeling and creative being. You

step through logic and into the realms beyond which can feel quite tumultuous and confusing at times as, by its definition, it’s beyond logic!

Whilst you thrive in such a space, there is a part of you longing to make sense of it, to know where you’re heading and why, and to feel less overwhelmed by the current of life. Yet, when you stop resisting this space beyond words, you feel very at home there and when you find your centre of balance, you realise just how much you need to be at one with the ebb and flow as you do not naturally stand still on any level of your being. Movement and flow are a part of your everyday, resisting this leads to overwhelm as you end up fighting your own sense of being. Accepting it allows you to become one with the flow, intuitively moving through life with wisdom and insight. Others may not understand this but this isn’t about them, it’s about you. So, take a deep breath and flow…

mistressmyst | April 5, 2017 at 5:15 pm | Categories: Articles, Daily Posts | URL: http://wp.me/p8edJu-FxI

Comment Comment See all comments

Unsubscribe to no longer receive posts from Witches Of The Craft®. Change your email settings at Manage Subscriptions.

Trouble clicking? Copy and paste this URL into your browser: http://witchesofthecraft.com/2017/04/05/159694/

Thanks for flying with WordPress.com

1 note · View note