#onhowtobecrazy

[shadowdianne]

Ok, I started to write this with a very different scene in my mind but then it ended up morphing into this and well, who I am to write things differently?? The writer? Nah, don’t think so Xd

This was more or less prompted by @onhowtobecrazy thanks to Endo’s tagging on this picture.

Enjoy!

PS: I tend to focus more on worldbuilding. Today I didn’t Xd

“What do you think?”

The question, rising towards the arched ceiling the vault had, didn’t made Regina stumble as she finished prepping what would soon be a fighting space but she turning and looking at Emma as the blonde descended the last steps of the stairs did.

Over the years, Regina had grown accustomed to seeing Emma change; from the assured woman to the meek rag doll that had been too painful to stay for, Emma had been a kaleidoscope of change and yet, no Dark One accessories or Savior-like foolishness could have prepared the brunette when she saw that the question came attached to the loss of something that had been a staple on Emma’s look that Regina could do nothing but gape.

The long locks, the ones that almost seemed to scream princess ancestry on the blonde’s blood, were gone; replaced by not exactly a buzzcut but close enough and a far too cheeky set of bangs that only framed the green gleaming eyes in a way Regina found herself swallowing, her magic spiking deep within her. A slight smile curving her lips, Emma kept staring at her, hands deep on her jacket’s pockets, the one that had made a reappearance after the papers had been signed and a ring had found its way to the bottom of the ocean.

Licking her lips, trying to gain herself some time, the brunette took a few steps towards the blonde, taking into her appearance, in the way she now stood, almost looking taller, prouder. She had heard from her that she needed, wanted, a change, but she would have never thought that this would be the change on itself and, as juvenile as some part of her considered it to be, she couldn’t help herself on thinking that, in a way, it seemed appropriate.

Fingers itching, begging her to raise her hands and touch the soft short locks, Regina took a deep breath, answering the still-there smile with one of her own.

“I think it suits you.”

And it was true; it suited Emma in a way that she would haven’t considered it possible. It made the defined lines of her collarbones stand even more beneath the jacket and the tank top. Yet, it wasn’t just that but what it brought from inside the blonde; the way she moved, the way she smirked at the compliment, at the way Regina needed to remind herself that they were supposed to be practicing rather than… staring. Gone was the doubtful blonde, the one that would move away when Regina moved closer to her and the brunette wondered briefly if the other woman had been like this before Storybrooke, before magic and curses had transformed into their new normal.

“Stand there.” She instructed, pressing her lips together as Emma complied, smugness never disappearing, walking towards the end of the small corridor that linked the potion brewing station with the chamber of hearts.

Shaking her head, compelling herself to focus once more on the matter at hand, the brunette rolled her shoulders, forcing her magic to lower itself to a soft simmer rather to the bubbling sparks that had begun to bite her insides.

It was the novelty, she thought; the same kind of surprise that she still felt whenever Emma sought her out. Over the years after Henry’s departure Storybrooke had fallen into a sort of gray light, the carefully constructed friendship they had created shattering day by day with the way the younger woman kept making herself unapproachable. Now that she was back, crowned and with all the realms at her disposal that, had changed.

It would pass, and she needed to refocus. Moving her head in slow, tight circles, the brunette set her eyes on the other woman, instructing the sparks to travel from her chest to her hands. She could sense Emma’s own power beginning to travel the distance that separated them; the scent of ozone growing heavy as she inhaled.

Even her magic felt different, she thought in an almost afterthought and she needed to steady herself before she nodded, signaling the beginning of the battle, the charges their magic created insulated by the multiple guards that covered the place.

It didn’t take long for her to lose her footing, Emma’s attacks ruthless, still far too broad, but still quick and much bolder than what Regina was accustomed to see coming from her. Swallowing and diving as she moved forward, trying to regain the lost terrain, she felt a hand at the small of her back, the touch feather-like but still burning as she had mere seconds before she was able to redirect the blast that tinted her sight with dirty-white magic.

She didn’t quite make it, her fingers circling the wrist and lifting it just as Emma spun her, making her face her in what felt a much smaller space than it had seemed a moment before.

Breath hitching, Regina clenched her teeth as Emma tilted her head, their magic sputtering before it disappeared once more beneath their skin, spent.

A part of her, a small part of her, knew that congratulations were in order: it was the first time Emma had truly managed to win and yet she remained silent as Emma’s eyes kept looking at her, a question there. One Regina knew already far too well; one they had already danced around above shared lunches and date-like dinners.

They hadn’t truly talked about this, not really. Longing glances and pregnant pauses were easier than an actual conversation and actions could only do so much, but Emma seemed to almost be vibrating with the question, with the way she still kept her hand halted, Regina’s fingers still circling her wrist.

But they didn’t talk about it; they never had, and so Regina pulled Emma’s hand until she both flushed to her chest, the movement causing Emma to stumble just the tiniest bit as she licked her lips; eyes roaming the new look. A new one, one she found herself liking far too much.

As an answer, Emma simply lifted her chin, the hollow of her throat turning more pronounced as she took a few deeper breaths.

“Stop me.” The words came out not like a plead but almost as if they were a last resort and Regina could feel her magic returning, circling her bones. And if felt far too much like a feverish dream.

“What makes you think I want that?”

By the time Regina crashed her mouth against Emma’s purple fog was already rising around them, the guards titillating as the brunette called them off.

-.-

For all her bravado when they finally reappeared in Regina’s room the brunette could feel how Emma was trembling; her hands stilling as Regina freed the hold she had on the blonde’s wrist. Yet, when the older woman eyed her a grunt was the only answer she had before she let her magic re-center her, burying her fingers into short, short locks; the tickling sensation of the hair against her fingertips merely fueling her. Trailing her fingers down, across Emma’s cheek, she brushed the underside of Emma’s bottom lip with her thumb as she moved backwards, just enough so she could see the woman’s face. Pupils dilated, the blonde’s teeth peeked as Regina pushed her mouth open, the glinting white biting into her thumb for a moment before the brunette closed the distance once more; drunk on the feeling.

They had been dancing around this for years, far too many and it was almost risible that what had broken the seams had been a mere haircut but, in a way, it suited them just as good as the change of look did to the blonde. A far too easy decision but one they hadn’t thought the possibility before. And so Regina moved her hand slightly lower, nails digging into Emma’s neck just so the blonde hissed into her mouth, stumbling backwards and carrying Regina with it, her hands finally beginning to tug at Regina’s own clothing, at the blouse she had chosen that morning; far too silky and making any friction almost an impossible. Her free hand clutching the blonde’s jacket, the bite of the zipper against her palm a reminder of the clothes they both still wore, Regina smiled as she stopped, her lips gliding against Emma’s the result messy, far too messy.

It wasn’t until Emma began to move her hands once more to her front, the angle awkward as they were far too close for her truly be able to unbutton the blouse, that she tutted, the hand at the blonde’s neck rising once more, clenching around the blonde’s hair and pulling it until the woman winced.

“Let me.”

Emma’s eyes were laced with white, silver almost and there was a moment in where Regina doubted the blonde had truly registered her words. However, she complied at the end, a short sharp nod the answer she got before Emma lowered her hands to her hips, fingers pressed against her skin but unmoving.

They would need to talk after this; after whatever this was. Regina knew it in the same sense she knew that Emma would probably doubt herself the second they ended it but she had spent far too long wanting more, wanting this, to be able to focus in nothing else than the way her bed stared back at her over the blonde’s shoulders. Smirking, she took a few deep breaths and called for her magic, pushing the blonde until the only thing the woman could do was shorten the distance, the back of her legs hitting the edge of the mattress with enough force to almost fall into it. Which was, precisely, what Regina needed.

It had been far too long since she had let herself be selfish after all and, judging by the way Emma braced herself, her lips colored with what Regina could only guess was her own ruined lipstick, she too needed it. Moving forward, she called forth her magic, the warmth on her fingers growing as she draw a lazy line over the blonde’s tank top. Cinders rising but smoke never settling, the fabric began to fall, clothing turned ash.

“What…”

“Just wait.”

And Emma waited, muscles locked but never looking away as Regina made her sat, lowering her hands as she did so, spreading the fire as she pulled her knees apart, her fingers grazing the jeans and freeing the blonde’s legs in the process as she positioned between them, kneeling so she could still look at the blonde’s eyes, completely enraptured by the way Emma kept completely still, breath coming in quick puffs of air.

More skin showing, Emma squirmed as her bra appeared, Regina biting her lip as she did so; deciding to not keep it with just a fickle of her wrist. The fire didn’t mar the blonde’s skin but there were still reddish marks from where Regina’s nails grazed, promising but far too slow.

She didn’t stop until the only article of clothing that covered Emma was the leather jacket, the cut still covering the blonde’s chest but only barely as she breathed in, her knees trembling as Regina splayed her fingers over the slightly chilled skin.

“Much better.”

I’m a tease no matter what, right? So, this might be 2k longer, but I will post it in due time back at A03. 😉

[thisisamadhouse]

Be careful what you wish for, you may receive it

I haven’t posted anything here in a while but it is Manon’s ( @onhowtobecrazy) birthday today so I had to. Also a belated gift for Em @lillie-grey who is havng a bad week, I hope this fluffy piece will make you smile darling! 

Here have some Dimple Dark!Outlaw Queen

Once upon a time, there was a little boy who lived in an Enchanted Forest, full of magic and extraordinary creatures. This boy lived in a camp full of honorable thieves. It may seem like an oxymoron to you, but somehow those outlaws turned their former amoral existences around for the greater good, stealing to give back, taking from those who had everything they wanted, to help those who had too little.

They became the boy’s family, for this child had lost much, too much; his mother, whom he could barely remember, not long after birth, his father just a few months prior, his sister and his Queen, left behind in another realm. The joyful, energetic, curious boy had changed ever since their return to Sherwood Forest, the light in his eyes had dimmed, he was quieter, his smiles rarer, his nightmares scarier. The Merry Men, his band of thieves, tried their hardest to distract and occupy him, to comfort him, but nothing and no one could replace the soothing voice and strong arms of his Papa, especially on that particular day.

That day was a special one for the boy, usually his favourite of the year, his birthday. For as long as he could remember, his father had gone out of his way to make it an unforgettable event. He had received his first small bow and arrow on his third birthday, squealing as he had been able to finally notch an arrow on his own, uncaring that he never hit the target, he had ridden on a pony for his fourth, a little black one that the Queen had personally chosen for him from her stables at the Dark Palace, where they had all been living then. She had helped him groom it and feed it apples from her tree, she had led them for a walk around the castle, even had sped it up to a trot to the boy’s utter delight. Afterwards they had baked his cake from scratch, and that night, with a full belly, clutching his new toy pony, an exact, fluffy replica of the living model, the boy had fallen asleep with a smile so wide his cheeks had hurt, it had rivaled his father’s.

 His fifth birthday would be different. The boy didn’t want to rise up for it, he wanted to stay snuggled under his blankets so no one would see his tears as he missed his Papa and his Queen and everyone else they had left behind. He just wanted his special day to be over. The Merry Men were persistent however, and after careful coaxing, they convinced the boy to join them. They didn’t try to turn it into a lavish party, none of them wanted to insult the boy’s father memory by attempting to live up to his unique way of celebrating his son.

 It was a quiet affair with simple handmade gifts and his favourite cake, a treat done with ingredients Granny had given them as they had left. Five candles lit the chocolate confection, and as he was about to blow on them, his father’s best friend, a hairy, burly, giant of a man, ironically nicknamed Little John, reminded him that he needed to make a wish. The boy’s little face screwed into thoughts, for there was only one thing he wanted and he knew he couldn’t get it. Still he shrugged, closed his eyes, made his wish and blew on his candles.

“What did you wish for, Roland?” A soft, feminine voice spoke in his ear.

“You can’t tell wishes or they won’t come true, silly,” the boy replied, and then froze, he knew this voice. Roland turned to the side and opened his eyes. They fell on the beautiful face of his Queen.

“Regina!” He exclaimed, throwing his arms around her neck, clinging to her tightly. “You’re here! You came back!” He sighed happily as he felt her gentle hands stroking his back.

“I did Roland. I couldn’t miss my favourite Knight’s birthday, now could I?” She told him and he giggled. He leaned back to look at her, his eyes twinkling for the first time in months, his smile wide and genuine. “And as it is your special day, I think it is tradition that I give you a present,” with a flourish, she made his gift appear in a plume of smoke.

“Monkey!” Roland cried out, squeezing against him the plush toy that had been lost in the confusion of their hasty departure, his companion ever since his Queen had saved him from the much more terrifying,breathing version. “Thank you Regina!” He seemed to realize for the first time that she looked a bit different than the last time he saw her. With her long, raven hair in a styled ponytail and her outfit, she resembled the Regina he had met all those months ago when she had been separated from her son.

She had been so sad then, that he had felt a chest swelling pride for every smile he had managed to get out of her. This Regina, though similar in looks to his sorrowful Queen, was both different from her and from the Regina he had to leave behind without saying goodbye. Roland couldn’t say how he knew but he felt it, in the way she looked at him.

He put his little hands on her cheeks and said, “You’re the Queen , aren’t you?” He sounded so much older than his five years when he spoke those words that the Queen was left stunned and speechless, could only nod in reply.

“But you’re not bad,” he stated more than asked, and theMen around them who had stayed silent since the woman appeared shifted uncomfortably.

The Queen’s eyes softened. “Not anymore,” she confirmed, a hint of shame in her tone, she did not want this precious boy to hear about the havoc she had wrecked in Storybrooke not so long ago.

“Regina sent you?” he asked, hopeful eyes and toothy grin, and the Queen’s newly mended heart squeezed painfully in her chest. Regina had no idea she was here, and she probably wouldn’t approve of what she was about to do, but what could the Queen possibly tell him?

“In a way, yes, she did,” she answered. “I have another surprise for you but I need to explain something first, and you have to listen really closely, alright?”

The boy nodded with all the seriousness he was capable of, it made the Queen chuckle, she caressed his cheek gently.

“You see I went to another Realm and I found someone there, someone very special, who looks like your Papa,” she paused, biting her lip, hesitating when the boy instantly perked up. “Roland, he looks very much like him, but he is not your Papa, he has led a very different life, he doesn’t know us,” the boy deflated, lowering his head, a pout on his lips. “He is a thief but he doesn’t do it for good like your father did. He wants to change though, do you think you could help me show him how?”

Seconds ticked by, and the Queen became more and more convinced that she had made a terrible mistake, that she had broken the child’s heart. What had she been thinking, coming back here to ruin his birthday? And then Roland threw himself in her arms again, and she took a shaky breath as he whispered a heartfelt ‘Thank you Regina’ in her ear.

She introduced him to Robin of Locksley, and his appearance and manners were distinctive enough not to upset the boy too much. This man could easily pass for a long lost brother or cousin to the Robin they knew. They were uneasy with each other at first, but with time and those room lighting smiles of Roland’s they started to form a real bond. The Queen’s anxiety slowly eased, as each day passed, and two of her favourite men got along better and better. This fresh start Regina had given her looked more promising with each dawn and sunset that she enjoyed in the arms of her thief, Roland’s soft snores filtering from the tent next to them.

 Once upon a time, there was a little boy who lived in an Enchanted Forest full of magic and extraordinary creatures. He had lost much, too much, but on his fifth birthday he wished for a family, for a mother and a father to complete his rugged band of thieves, and it was granted. Would it be a happily ever after? Well, that’s an entirely new adventure to tell.

[thisisamadhouse]

@onhowtobecrazy Laura before Bill bought the house in that fic I told you about :D

pls support https://www.patreon.com/ExtraFabulousComics

[madamqueenregina]

@onhowtobecrazy reblogged your post: "Lost in Thought" Regina Follow Forever...”

OMG THIS IS SO GOOD I’M SO HAPPYYYYYY Thank you so much you beautiful human ♥ your posts and art and humor are always DEEPLY appreciated on my dash!

Aw thank you, love! I LOVE making these (when I can) and I’m absolutely tickled when I get feedback like this! So glad I can be a positive contribution to this fandom in these troubling times! And even more glad I have people on my dash like you! 

[superfluousstuckupitude]

bunny honey! :D that sounds like the beginning of an ABBA song lol

bunny: I like your blog! 

honey: you seem nice!

Thanks! Same to you!

[hereforthequeenandthedrinks]

Rules: tag 9 people you want to get to know better!

I was tagged by @littlejoregal - sorry for the delay 😅 and thank you for the tag!!!

A - Top Four Ships: (currently - so I'm not really watching anything now... That being said, not really "currently" ships)

1. Regina Mills/Robin Food (OUAT)

2. Barry/Iris (the Flash)

3. Brooke Davis/Julian Baker (One tree hill)

4. Barbara Gordon(Oracle) and a lot of people (Birds of Prey-2002... Old school much 😅)

B - Last Song: Come Back Down - Greg Laswell ft. Sara Bareilles

C - Last Movie: Knives Out

D - Reading: every possible book on Standardized French tests - not fun!

E - What food are you craving right now? Brazilian Coxinha

I tag: @thisisamadhouse @onhowtobecrazy @lillie-grey @lala-kate (breaking rules and not tagging 9)

[shadowdianne]

onhowtobecrazy replied to your post “*addressing no one in particular because what is tumblr if not a...”

My two cents: whether or not writing prompts is easy or hard it does require a lot of elasticity to adapt to what people ask for and that is a mad skill, and what is even more impressive is how prolific you are and how the quality is constant in each prompt. I know it's very hard to shake off the impostor syndrome (kind of an expert at that) but if it can help, I admire really admire your writing

I wish I was able to accept the compliment but I’m (in)famously known for not being able to do that xD I don’t consider that I have elasticity of any kind. I think in fact that I’m boring and tedious xD Still, I thank you for your two cents. @onhowtobecrazy

[thisisamadhouse]

"we are having sex but i think someone stopped to listen what’s happening at the door." Bill/Laura

A/N. To make up for the last one… smut ahead (duh).

If someone had told Laura Roslin, about a year ago when she first stepped foot on a battlestar, that she would, in that order, get sworn in as President of the 12 colonies of Kobol, become a religious leader, recover from terminal breast cancer, and hook-up in a tent with the sour-faced commander of the Galactica, she would probably have crumbled into a legendary fit of giggles.

Yet here she was, in the middle of the afternoon, that same Commander turned Admiral pounding between her legs at a rhythm that left her head spinning, her bare back rubbing deliciously against the rug-covered floor of her tent, his hands lost in her hair and holding on as if afraid she’d disappear in the blink of an FTL jump.He needn’t have worried, of course, she wasn’t about to go anywhere before she reached completion, and she could already feel the tide licking at her curling toes, rising to her chest, pulling louder and louder gasps out of her until a strong hand suddenly covered her mouth and resulting squeak of protest.

“Someone’s outside,” Bill whispered hoarsely in her ear, his hips straining to remain still above her.

A woman’s voice rang out from behind the canvas. “Laura? You there? I need to borrow some ration stamps I lost mine again.”

“Frakking Ellen Tigh,” Laura swore under her breath, drawing a grunt out of Bill as she involuntarily clenched around him.

“Third time in two days she shows up,” Bill muttered, “when did you two become best friends?”

“Hush.”

“Laura?”

In one frighteningly fast move, Laura seized a handful of the numerous thick blankets half-hanging off the cot and pulled them down on the floor to cover their bodies.

“What–”

She shut Bill up with her hand in turn and dug her heels into his butt to force him to lie completely on her, a strangled moan slipping past her lips as he sheathed himself even deeper.

“Quiet and don’t move.”

Afficher davantage

[thisisamadhouse]

I hope so too!!!

thisisamadhouse replied to your post “I had a dream last night that I was going to London with @swoodsie and…”

@lolcat76 OMG @onhowtobecrazy and I are going as well! I mean if she manages to behave anyway… �� *yes Manon i’m looking at you*

LOLOL! I hope we get to meet in the craziness!

[loveexpelrevolt]

Last Line Tag

rules: post the last sentence you wrote and tag as many people as there are words in the sentence.

tagged by: @odakota-rose thank youuu! and I’m with you on retrieving some of my WIPs from the graveyard...

from that one oq multichap I abandoned four years ago that no one remembers but will actually, finally be completed in a few weeks a thousand teeth, and yours among them:

A shiver of premonition hummed to Regina that she was sending them to their deaths, and she laughed, because it was true and because she did not yet know whether that was what she desired or what she feared most.

tagging: @ninzied @pixelbypixelfanfic @dee-thequeenbee @x-wishes-on-fallen-stars-x @onhowtobecrazy @repellomuggletum15 @revolutionsoftheheart @idoltina (basically consider yourself tagged if you see this because I don’t know who’s writing or working on what anymore but I’d love to see updates from anyone!)

[ao3feed-swanqueen]

Change

read it on the AO3 at http://bit.ly/2Us9gx5

by ShadowSelene (Shadowdianne)

onhowtobecrazy asked for this one. More or less. Endo is the direct culprit for this one.

  She had heard from her that she needed, wanted, a change, but she would have never thought that this would be the change on itself and, as juvenile as some part of her considered it to be, she couldn’t help herself on thinking that, in a way, it seemed appropriate.

Fingers itching, begging her to raise her hands and touch the soft short locks, Regina took a deep breath, answering the still-there smile with one of her own.

“I think it suits you.”

Words: 1881, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Once Upon a Time (TV)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: F/F

Characters: Emma Swan, Evil Queen | Regina Mills

Relationships: Evil Queen | Regina Mills/Emma Swan

read it on the AO3 at http://bit.ly/2Us9gx5

[escapewithstories]

I was tagged by @rahleeyah Thank you for thinking of me 💜💜💜

I tag: @veky1993 @majsmom @eelise187 @notunbrokenwrites @jeanieblake @blossom--of--snow @love-letters-x-cardigan-sweaters @mosaika @onhowtobecrazy

[thisisamadhouse]

I met you too late

A/N: This prompt came to me and wouldn’t leave me alone so it had to be written: “I’m the ghost who haunts the house you just bought, and for some reason you’re the only one who can see me.” Also this one from @onhowtobecrazy ‘s Hamilton inspired prompts seemed fitting: #12 “Dying is easy. Living is harder.” Also big thanks to Manon for her feedback and encouragements. Some dialogue are borrowed from Season 4. AO3 link

The captain goes down with the ship, that’s what Commander William Adama has always believed. From the moment he joined the Colonial Fleet almost forty years ago during the Cylon War, he never thought he would live long enough to be retired. Yet there he is, in the suburb of Caprica City, putting down the last of his boxes in the living room of the four bedrooms, three baths, furnished house he has just bought for a ridiculously cheap price only a couple of weeks after the decommissioning ceremony of the old bucket of a battlestar he has started and finished his career on.

Despite having studied the house from roof to basement, to look for any defect that would explain the unexpected bargain, and after the silent, intense glare he treated his realtor with, to no avail, he just shrugged and signed his name on the check and the paperwork.

It could seem a bit big for a single man, but he has two sons and a daughter-in-law whom he hopes will visit, and a best friend with a wife who both tend to overdo it when they have a full bottle of alcohol in front of them, and he would rather not see them drive if he can help it.

He looks around the room with its warm walls and dark cherry furniture. Even if the house has been empty for over a year, it is almost in pristine condition, only a few scraps here and there that speak of a full life spent in a place built especially for, and looked after by, the family that occupied it for as long as he has first boarded a spaceship to go and fight the Cylons, at least that’s what his realtor told him. Most of the personal items are gone, but there is one picture left behind on the mantle of the fireplace, and Bill heads towards it, curious to know more about the people who stood there before him.

He is about to grasp it when he hears someone speak out behind him.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” a feminine, low, soft lilt of a voice says, and Bill swirls around, his eyes rapidly sweeping the room, looking for the intruder who managed to sneak up on him unnoticed.

A giggle then, apparently coming from the couch... the very empty, devoid of any human presence couch. Bill frowns, wondering what kind of game this is. He approaches it carefully, searching for a camera, a speaker, anything that could explain it. “Don’t bother,” the voice utters, amused, and now he is certain that he has the right location.

He starts pulling apart the cushions, throwing them on the ground, pating the structure, until the voice protests. “Hey, that’s rude, I’m right there you know,” and this time Bill thinks he can feel a breeze of cold air onto his face. He straightens up and takes a step back, frowning. If he had had the chance to fill up his drinking cabinet yet, he would be worried that he had had one too many, and this seems a bit too sudden for an early onset case of dementia. There is another possible explanation though, and he isn’t sure he likes it anymore than the others.

“What the fr…” he starts to say when the phone rings. He hesitates, looking between the couch and the phone, before shaking his head and crossing the room to pick it up.

“Don’t,” the voice says, all playfulness gone, the tone all at once urgent and anxious, and Bill’s forearm becomes ice cold, frost forming on his skin in a pattern, fingers, a whole hand actually. The ringing stops and the answering machine takes over.

“Hello, you’ve reached the Roslin’s, if you’re looking for Edward,” the recorded message starts with a man speaking, “Judith,” a woman follows, “Laura, Sandra, or Cheryl,” three younger sounding voices speak in rapid succession, and one in particular holds Bill’s interest as he listens to the rest of the recording, “please leave a message and we will call you back,” the family of five talk together in a perfectly synchronized way, the message ending with a collective laugh before the beep resounds.

“Huh, I hope I’ve got the right number. I guess you haven’t had time to personalize your voicemail yet, but you really should cause that was a bit creepy. Hi, Dad, it’s Zak, by the way, but you probably already figured that out. I just wanted to check up on you, see how the moving in is going. Kara and I have some leave coming up, and we thought we might come by, have dinner, visit for a couple of days even. I talked to Lee the other day, and he is almost done with his exams so he may be able to join us. Anyway, call me back when you can. Take care.”

Bill smiles as his son’s ramblings end with another beep. Things haven’t always been easy with his boys, his career robbed him of a lot of time with them, he missed a lot, and ever since the divorce he has been trying to make it up to them. It wasn’t easy to see Zak flunk flight school, his own then fiancée now wife deeming him unfit, but his youngest found a new calling as a deckhand and he is thriving. His eldest had more success as a pilot, but in the end Lee decided to go back to school and become a lawyer. Bill can’t say it doesn’t hurt not to have any of his children follow in his footsteps, but then he remembers that he has Kara, and his daughter-in-law is worth a dozen so-called hotshot pilots at least.

He shakes himself, he will have to return Zak’s call later, but right now he has a more pressing issue, because he can barely feel his fingers, and he is pretty sure that they are turning blue from being exposed to the cold for so long.

Just as he is wondering how to solve his predicament, whatever, or as he is becoming increasingly convinced, whoever is holding him lets go.

“Sorry,” a whisper in his ear, and the sound confirms what he thought.

He heard about the Roslin tragedy on the news last year. The wave of emotion generated after the successive passing of a whole family of well-liked teachers had reached even Galactica. A few of the younger Caprican members of his crew were taught by either Edward or Judith Roslin as children, some even had siblings, nieces or nephews who were in the daughters’ classes.

It started first with the death of the mother following a long, hard-fought battle against cancer, then the car crash with a drunk driver which claimed the father and the two youngest sisters’ lives, one of them pregnant with her first child, and finally the oldest daughter who drowned in a public fountain after hearing the news. From the look of things, it appears that one of them made it home after all.

He spent his childhood listening to his grandmother talk about the ghosts she could see and was trying to help. “They are stuck, Billy,” she used to say, the only one who ever called him that. “They are neither here nor there, but they can’t let go, they can’t move on, they try to cling onto their past lives but they can’t grasp anything. Everything is so cold and dark for them, we have to help them find the light and the shore. Treat them with respect, Billy, always.” Though why he would start seeing them himself now is the real question.

“Laura,” Bill says. “You’re Laura Roslin,” he looks down where the voice came from, and it suddenly seems like a veil has been lifted. Flaming, dark red hair, translucent skin, jade eyes that widen as he looks straight into them, a petite, slender but shapely figure with endless legs, the whole picture leaves him feeling rather robbed that he never got the chance to meet her while she was alive, and the thought instantly makes him feel like an oaf.    

She nods hesitantly, and it has him wondering how long it has been since she last heard her name being pronounced. “Yes, I am,” she says more assertively. “And you can see me, that’s new.”

Through her would be a more accurate term, but Bill is not sure he wants to voice that thought. “Believe me, no one is more surprised about that development than I am. I think I would have remembered if the realtor had told me that the house came with a roommate only I could see.”

Laura shrugs. “I have never had to worry about that before. People usually don’t hang around very long.”

Bill’s eyebrows rise. “And you have absolutely nothing to do with it, of course.”

She suppresses a mischievous smile, but he still catches it, and he wonders what kind of stunts she pulled to the poor fellows who ventured here before him. “It’s my family’s house, I have every right to be here. It’s not my problem if they can’t handle it.”

He can’t help but chuckle at the petulant tone from this prim and proper teacher. “Well, you’re going to need to learn to share, because I’m here to stay.”

She purses her lips. “You don’t seem overly surprised or concerned that you’re talking to a ghost.”

“My grandmother had the gift, that’s what she called it anyway. She could see and talk to ghosts, help them find their way,” Bill tells her, and she snorts.

“You’re one of those then,” she says disdainfully. “Thinking you know exactly what’s best for me, where I should go. One of the former buyers was some kind of priest, or exorcist, I’m not sure which, I didn’t care enough to find out. He thought he knew what was best too. He lasted a week before he ran screaming.”

Bill grins, imagining the scene. “As I said, that was my grandmother. As long as you stay out of my way, I’ll stay out of yours,” he concludes, finding nothing else to say, and she seems too stunned to retort. For some reason, it makes him smirk to have rendered her speechless. Something tells him it hasn’t happened often.

He decides to get started on putting together his bookshelves, and he can feel her presence lingering near as he works. She gets closer when he fills the shelves with rows and rows of hardcovers and paperbacks, looking over his shoulders to study the edges. When he turns back towards her inquiringly as he notices her longing look, she only shrugs and disappears from view.

It is a strange living arrangement that they have, but somehow it works for them. He has never minded being alone, and in between his children and Saul’s visits, that is the case more often than not, but after spending most of his life on spaceships full to the brim with soldiers or workers, even as a Commander with his own quarters, it is not something he is used to. Her presence, as silent or as loud as she wishes it to be, fills his existence and gives rhythm to his days.

It doesn’t take him long to notice her intense yearning for reading. The fact that she has already spent hours just looking at his collection was quite a clue.

“One can flicker lights on and off, break fragile objects, generally mess around the house, -and really, Bill, that’s no place to put spoons away, and by the Gods those wine glasses! I swear I will take everything out when you’re asleep and you will have to do it all over again in the morning-, but I can’t hold on to a book without it turning into a solid block of ice within minutes. How unfair is that?” She told him without batting an eye during his second day at the house, and he had to pause, two spoons in a hand, a wine glass in the other, before deciding to call her on her bluff and tidy up as he pleased. He found all the contents of his kitchen drawers and cupboards emptied on every available surface the next morning, Laura standing in the middle of the room with a smug expression, daring him to comment.

He didn’t and he has since learned to just roll with it and not cross her, it’s way too much work anyway. He has taken the habit, in the evenings, to pick out a book and read it aloud. He starts with the standard literary masterpieces, thinking about her education and her former occupation, but, even if she listens from her usual, self-proclaimed seat on the couch, she seems to lose interest rather fast and turns back to the TV that he leaves on during the day to distract her and only mutes as he sits down in his armchair to focus on his chosen volume.

It’s a gamble to extract one of his favourite mysteries from the bookcase, but it pays off. He has barely uttered the title that she swirls towards him, giving him her full attention. He pauses, looking at her over his glasses. “You know it?” He asks, and she shakes her head.

“Edward Prima? I’m embarrassed to say that it’s one of those classics I never got around to reading, despite my weakness for mysteries,” she says, biting her bottom lip, and he really should get a grip on himself, because he is not supposed to find this endearing, especially as he starts imagining the way she would have flushed…

He is doomed.

It’s in the little things, like lighting the fireplace year round even if he can barely stand it, because she can’t keep warm otherwise; like setting out two cups in the morning and brewing her favourite tea that he will never drink just so she can inhale its scent; like picking the sport pages out of the newspaper and neatly unfolding the political ones so she can read them and huff and puff at the stupidity of their leaders.

He asks her once if she would have ever considered a career in politics, and she laughs because she hates it as much as he does. It’s a shame, he thinks, with those legs in a power suit she could have convinced anyone to follow her anywhere, him included.

It’s in the reminders, when she gives him a lead for the crosswords he is stuck on, when she tells him that he has spent too much time home and he will become an hermit before long, “I will have dinner ready when you’re back,” she teases him, as she tries to push him out of the door to join his sons or Saul.

When she respects his silence and simply sits beside him, when she listens to his stories about the good old days, and when she shares some tidbit about her life to which he hangs on like a drowning man with a lifebelt, the boxing matches with her father, her paintings, and he can never get enough of seeing her light up when she talks about her work as a teacher.

It’s in the quiet moments, when she leans over the pots as he is cooking some traditional Tauron dish and confesses that she wished she had tried it when she could; when she watches him work on his model ship amused and intrigued in turns.

He is so used to her presence that he has to reign himself in each time he has a visitor and remember that it wouldn’t do to interact with someone only he can see, though he thinks he has spied Kara’s eyes following Laura’s mouvements once or twice, he can’t be sure and he certainly won’t  ask.

It hits him fully one day, as he is reading Love and Bullets by Nick Taylo, a pile of blankets on his lap and beside him, patches of ice here and there, where Laura rests her face.

“It started as it always did, with a body. This one was in the river, and I could tell that she had once been beautiful. But this, a bullet and fast current had taken away from her. All we are, all that we think we are, all that we are certain about is taken away from us. When you’ve worked the streets and seen what I have seen, you become more and more convinced of it every day.

Caprica City had been my teacher, my mistress. From the moment I open my eyes, she’s in my blood, like cheap wine. Bitter and sweet, tinged with regret. I’ll never be free of her, nor do I want to be. For she is what I am,. All that is. Should always be.”

He pauses, pondering the words. While he can’t associate them with Caprica City, he certainly can relate them to the woman occupying his thoughts, his space, his whole existence. He allows a chuckle to escape as he finally admits to himself that he has fallen in love with a ghost, and there is absolutely nothing he can do about it.

His movements make her stir from her comfortable position, and she blinks up at him, eyebrows rising in question, but he only shakes his head before continuing his narration. What good could it do to her to reveal the extent of his foolishness?

A couple of weeks pass, and his fingers skim the shelves in search of something new. He stops when he reaches Searider Falcon, not exactly new but it had never disappointed him before.

Laura smiles widely as he shows it to her, she hasn’t read it in years, she tells him, and can’t remember how it ends, and though it is his favourite he is not much help, he has never been able to finish it, he never wanted it to be over, like a lot of things in his life.

It is a short but intense story, it doesn’t take him long to reach the seventh chapter.

“I must warn you that I’m getting into the part that I haven’t read yet,” he says, and she grins.

“Oh dear, are you going to be able to continue?”

“The raft was not as seaworthy as I had hoped. The waves repeatedly threatened to swamp it. I wasn’t afraid to die, I was afraid of the emptiness that I felt inside. I couldn’t feel anything, and that’s what scared me. You came into my thoughts, you filled them, it felt good.” He falls silent, the words resounding deep within him.

“I wish there had been someone to fill my thoughts in the end, someone still left to miss, maybe it would have made it harder,” Laura says, still and tensed, turned away from him.

“Easier you mean,” Bill counters, but she shakes her head, turning on her back, looking at the ceiling.

“Dying is easy, living is harder. Finding a reason to continue when there is no one left, when it’s so simple to just drift away. I didn’t mean to die, Bill, but in that moment, in the water, with only my memories, I let go. I could see my parents, my sisters’ faces, and they seemed to be calling me, but once it was over, I realised that they would have never wanted that for me.”

“Is that why you couldn’t move on? Because you thought they would be ashamed if you joined them?” He asks, before holding his breath in anticipation. He has always avoided the question, thinking that it is none of his business, and she would tell him if she damn well pleases, but it’s the first time she has ever talked about her death and he can’t quite help himself.

He is certain he has gone too far when a long moment passes with no reply, but then she nods, her eyes shimmering, and he reaches for her hand, squeezing it, bearing through the cold to let her know that he doesn’t need to hear more.

She was right, he thinks, as he slowly opens his eyes, feeling the warmth of the sun and a breeze over his face that smell of sea air, it is easy to die. It was bound to happen, his ticker could only do so much after all. He has no regrets though, he has lived a good life, it has taken long enough but his relationships with both his sons have been fully mended, he has seen them both happy and fulfilled, and he is so very proud. He would rather leave on a high note.

He can distinguish the golden shore and a milling crowd is assembling there, he wonders who will welcome him.

A hand slips into his, and he doesn’t need to turn to know who it is. Still, he looks at her, and his breath catches in his throat: not only is it the first time he can touch her without fearing frostbite, she also has never looked more stunning, with full colours to her cheeks, the sun shining in her eyes in such a way it makes him realise he has never seen how green they really were, and her smile… If it were possible this smile would make his heart grow three sizes.

He smiles, threading his fingers with hers, leaning down to rest his forehead against hers.

“You didn’t think you could leave without me, Commander?” Laura whispers, and he chuckles.

“The thought never crossed my mind, Ma’am.”

[hereforthequeenandthedrinks]

I got: EuterpeThe Muse of Music – When it comes to romance novels, you favour the passionate and the artistic. You don’t care how ludicrous the plot becomes so long as it is well-told and the characters throw their whole selves into it.

I was tagged by my dear crazy and very loved by me @onhowtobecrazy and I’m tagging @lillie-grey @lala-kate @laura-p-g

[shadowdianne]

@onhowtobecrazy asked for this one. More or less. @yaminoendo is the direct culprit 

She had heard from her that she needed, wanted, a change, but she would have never thought that this would be the change on itself and, as juvenile as some part of her considered it to be, she couldn’t help herself on thinking that, in a way, it seemed appropriate.

Fingers itching, begging her to raise her hands and touch the soft short locks, Regina took a deep breath, answering the still-there smile with one of her own.

“I think it suits you.”

[lolcat76]

RULES: We’re snooping on your playlist. Set your entire music library on shuffle and report the first 10 songs that pop up. Then choose 10 victims.

Oookay, I’m going to cheat and use five from iTunes and five from Spotify, because I use them both depending on where I am. Tagged by @onhowtobecrazy who has excellent musical taste.

1. Misery Business, Paramore, Riot! 2. Dawn’s Ballet, Buffy the Vampire Slayer (Once More With Feeling) 3. Roslyn, Bon Iver & St. Vincent, Twilight New Moon Soundtrack (don’t judge me) 4. Cedarwood Road, U2, Songs of Innocence, and how many fucking times do I have to delete this U2 album that I never wanted, iTunes??? 5. Tea (Chinese Dance), Tchiakovsky, The Nutcracker 6. Cruel Summer, Bananarama, Greatest Hits 7. With Or Without You, U2, U218 (this U2 is allowed.) 8. The Wild Boys, Duran Duran, Decade 9. It’s Raining Men, Geri Halliwell, Bridget Jones’ Diary soundtrack 10. Barricade, Interpol, Interpol (my favorite band ever)

Tagging @tvfreakd, @dillydallyy, @tearsandbrightness, @blossom--of--snow, @swoodsie, @myassbrokethefall, @cassiopeiasara, @kateyes224, @thisisamadhouse, @love-letters-x-cardigan-sweaters