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I am getting various signs that this is going to be a very powerful fall and with that in mind, I'm thinking I should do something with this blog. Not sure what? General autumn blog? Another year of prompts? Actually post some of my own writing here? Secret fourth option?

Anyway, just putting this out there for the handful of people who maybe still follow here. Thoughts? Opinions? Predictions about the coming autumnal season?

[crackling-fires]

I am getting various signs that this is going to be a very powerful fall and with that in mind, I'm thinking I should do something with this blog. Not sure what? General autumn blog? Another year of prompts? Actually post some of my own writing here? Secret fourth option?

Anyway, just putting this out there for the handful of people who maybe still follow here. Thoughts? Opinions? Predictions about the coming autumnal season?

[crackling-fires]

I am getting various signs that this is going to be a very powerful fall and with that in mind, I'm thinking I should do something with this blog. Not sure what? General autumn blog? Another year of prompts? Actually post some of my own writing here? Secret fourth option?

Anyway, just putting this out there for the handful of people who maybe still follow here. Thoughts? Opinions? Predictions about the coming autumnal season?

[crackling-fires]

[crackling-fires]

Hello...

It’s September! I’m not currently planning anything for this blog this year. Maybe I’ll change my mind and do something just for fun, but right now that’s not on the agenda.

Mostly just writing this post to say that, even though I don’t blog here all year round, I still exist! And to reach out into the void to see if anyone is around.

Happy Fall!

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Crackling Fires 2021 | October Fic Challenge

“Taking a Chance”

hosted by: @crackling-fires | prompt(s): day 10 – sharing a scarf, day 17: campfire stories | ship(s): Princess Mechanic | wc: 1.4k Griffins aren’t cowards––so Clarke has to put on a brave face about the scary stories that the other Scouts want to tell around the campfire. But somehow even scarier than the story Harper is telling is the budding crush she has on her best friend Raven. But Raven offers her comfort and even if she’s nervous about her feelings, she can’t bring herself to turn it down.

Absent-mindedly scratching at the lone mosquito bite on her ankle wasn’t quite enough to distract Clarke from what was going on.

It was the second night of sleep-away camp for the Arkadia Scouts, their yearly camping trip for the young women to come out and enjoy nature, earn a few extra badges, and hang out with friends. It was always one of the last weekends of September, lining up with the slow changing of the leaves and a drop in temperature. Just warm enough to still fit in a few hikes or canoeing, but cool enough for nighttime bonfires and extra heavy quilts in the cabins. 

It was Clarke’s first trip ever despite having been a Scout since she was ten. 

Every year she found an excuse. Sometimes it was legitimate, like you know, her dad dying. Then her mom offered for her to come with her to a work conference and even though she didn’t have to, she’d said yes and purposefully skipped the camping weekend. There was just always something easy to say instead. Another way to earn badges, another way to have some time with the other girls.

Clarke was fifteen now but she knew that Griffins weren’t supposed to admit that they were scared.

And sleep-away camp terrified her.

Especially when Harper insisted everyone swap scary stories.  It wasn’t that Clarke hated scary things. But staying in old rustic cabins in the middle of nowhere, during her first sleep-away camp ever, was already scary enough. The last thing she’d wanted to hear was the exuberant excitement for ghost stories around the fire pit. No thank you. But it wasn’t up to her so she’d accepted her fate, stuffed herself full of burnt s’mores, and was desperately trying to pretend that she was having a great time. The day part had been fun at least, but she was silently counting down the seconds until bed while Harper described the gorey details of a man hacking people up on a spaceship because the demons of his dead wife and children asked him to.

She hadn’t realized how much she’d tucked herself back though until suddenly her vision was obscured.

“You’re looking pretty lonely back here, want some company?”

Clarke glanced up, her eyes adjusting from the deep orange glow of the campfire and into the eyes of…

Raven Reyes.

Gulping, she gave a quick nod.

“Yeah, go for it,” she responded, cringing at herself as she scooted over on the log so that the other girl had room to sit beside her. Raven gave her a wide smile as she sat down, her arm brushing up against Clarke’s. Fighting the blush threatening to bloom on her cheeks, Clarke did everything she could to keep her smile completely neutral. While she’d obviously been close to the other girl at camp so far, and even shared classes at school, they’d never been this close to each other. She could feel butterflies fluttering in her chest.

Keep reading

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Crackling Fires 2021 | October Fic Challenge

“I Know”

hosted by: @crackling-fires | prompt(s): day 07 – antique shops | ship(s): Murven | wc: 899 Raven needs some last minute costume pieces for the Halloween party that Jasper and Monty are throwing and Murphy tags along. Somehow they accidentally decide on a couple’s costume at the antique shop and Raven has to figure out what that means. 

The same universe as the pumpkin patch fic.

“You seriously don’t have a costume already? I thought you were a planner––the party is in five days.”

Raven rolled her eyes as she shifted through her stack of homework. “Fuck off Murphy, I’ll be fine. Are you telling me you don’t have one?”

The bane of her existence, and unfortunate star of her current romantic fantasies, sighed and slouched back in his chair. Murphy had come to bother her at the library before they all met up for dinner at the dining hall. She both hated and appreciated his presence because his habit of making her tongue-tied went from non-existent to almost consistent since the piggy back ride at the pumpkin patch.

“Of course I don’t yet,” Murphy replied exasperatedly, tipping his chair back into a precarious angle, “but that’s my brand. I’m never prepared. You probably came out of the womb correcting the doctor on how to properly be prepared or whatever.”

She couldn’t help but feel a smile tug at her lips at the strange compliment. 

“Well what do you propose we do about it then?” Raven snapped her notebook closed and arched an eyebrow at him. Grinning now that he had her full attention, Murphy let the chair slide back into its correct position and leaned over the table towards her. Raven fought against the blush threatening to bloom on her cheeks as he stared intently at her.

“That antique store on Polis Drive. The owner is one of Clarke’s old flings, Niylah. There’s gotta be some cool shit there and I know you don’t ever want to blend in, even at Halloween.”

***

The antique shop was, indeed, filled with “cool shit” as per Murphy’s description.

Niylah, a striking tall blonde woman, let them in and pointed out the different sections of it all. Apparently it had all started from her father’s collection and grew over time as she sought to save items from ruin in neighborhood garage sales and collectors who needed new homes as they moved on. There was only one other person in the shop, giving them essentially the run of it as they hunted through the racks of tightly packed clothes.

“You own white pants, right?” Murphy’s voice floated over, muffled from the distance and the towering faux-marble statue between them.

Raven had to think for a second before she remembered her own wardrobe. She did have white pants––she’d bought them when Harper had dragged everyone with her back when she was trying to figure out what sorority to join. But somehow it had been a year since then and Raven hadn’t gotten rid of the pants. But less startling than that (she didn’t trust herself to wear the color often), was that Murphy remembered.

“Yeah…” she confirmed cautiously, “why?”

He appeared beside one of the racks and excitedly held up a top. It was some type of vintage top, probably from the sixties, and was white and long sleeved that belled out around the wrist. When Raven didn’t respond right away, Murphy gave the hanger a wiggle.

“Picture it: a retro inspired Princess Leia in A New Hope. We just need to find a silver belt or something that you could wear. Then with the white pants, skirt, or whatever, throw your hair in a bun, boom.” 

Raven couldn’t find the grin tugging at her lips.

“That’s actually a pretty good idea, Murphy. Well done.”

A hint of bashfulness overcame him but he quickly shrugged it off with a wave. “Movies were a big thing when I was a kid. I’ve got all of those costumes burned into my brain.”

Raven immediately became intrigued at the visual, thinking of her own lack of movie knowledge as well. There probably wasn’t a subtle way of doing it, but she’d have to figure out how to ask him about doing a movie night sometime.

“What about you?” She walked up and took the shirt from him, inspecting it as she did. It was in good condition thankfully and she definitely could imagine what he was describing. Maybe she wasn’t a huge movie person, but she most certainly knew about Star Wars; it had been her first introduction to space and the obsession that she’d carry in her heart ever since.Murphy pointed down at the basket in hand. A heavy, brownish gray leather vest was nestled inside.

“Han Solo.” His eyes shot up to meet hers. “If you’re cool with it, obviously.”

He didn’t say the words but they were clearly underlying his statement.

A couples costume.

Raven hoped her nervousness didn’t come through at all as she assured him that of course it was fine. But butterflies were erupting in her stomach and heart pounded. Did she look ridiculous right now? Murphy didn’t seem to be acting differently but she was pretty damn sure she had a comically large, goofy grin on her face as she trailed after him to find the rest of the pieces.       

But in between the aisles of trinkets, memorabilia and clothes, she thought she caught a glimpse of a privately proud smile on his face. So when he insisted on paying for the costumes, Raven let him. And as they drove back and talked about the movie franchise (it turned out they both agreed about the prequels being underrated), she became even more confident about her new Halloween plans:

Tell Murphy about her feelings for him.

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Prompt #31:

HALLOWEEN

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Prompt #30: Scarecrow

Photo by HLS 44

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Prompt #29: A Quiet Halloween Night

Photo by Elena Mozhvilo

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Prompt #28:

Couple’s Costume

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Prompt #27: Spooky Skeletons

Photo by NeONBRAND

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Prompt #26: Entrance

Photo by Alex Motoc

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Crackling Fires 2021 | October Fic Challenge

"Words Lost in the Wind"

hosted by: @crackling-fires | prompt(s): day 01 – "Wild is the music of the autumnal wind / Among the faded woods" –– William Wordsworth, The Excursion (Book VI: The Church-Yard Among the Mountains) | ship(s): Bellarke | wc: 1.2k Season 2, Canon Divergence –– Clarke is living on her own in the woods and trying to heal after the events of Mount Weather. Fall has arrived and with it, an unexpected guest. She and Bellamy haven’t seen each other since she left him at the gates of Arkadia and maybe the change in the seasons might also help them navigate the changes in their relationship with each other.

Clarke moved carefully through the underbrush, doing her best to not snag her pants along the prickly snares of the thistle. She’d already had to mend these pants twice since making them and she didn’t feel like adding that to her list to do again already.

Maybe others wouldn’t like the slow death of nature around them, but Clarke found it strangely comforting. The seasons on Earth were out of whack for what they should have been, or at least from what she’d learned in Earth Skills, but what she imagined was autumn had finally arrived. She watched as the lush green forest around her dipped into monochromatic hues, oranges and browns with bright yellow tips as a splash of color. The first morning she’d experienced fog––true fog, not the kind that burned through your flesh––she’d just stood in wonder. The cool mist filling in the gaps of the trees, dampening her curls and casting a sleepy haze throughout the woods.

It felt like nature was going into hibernation and it felt therapeutic to find her body moving naturally with it. The first couple weeks had been terrible in isolation and it was only now that she felt herself finding therapy in her new day to day life. Today was a better day too, even if she’d belatedly realized that she needed to go out and harvest some more food. And wood too, based on the way she rubbed her hands together to generate some heat as she waited for the rest of her body to wake up.

She’d followed her usual route, letting herself disappear amongst the fog to silently forage. Listening to the crackle of fallen leaves underfoot and breathing in the cool air, she gathered up new herbs and mushrooms, collected new kills from her traps, and some wood for a new fire. So much of her routine was the same and she found safety in that. Which meant when she saw a person standing outside her small hut she’d built, panic overcame her. But then she realized who it was. She stopped in her tracks, nearly dropping the pile of wood in her arms as her limbs went limp.

“Bellamy?”

“Hey,” he answered. His voice was as rough as ever and he had a sort of crooked grin on his face and he was really standing in front of her.

Not as much had changed about him physically as she was expecting. But that meant she’d wondered about him during all of this and she quickly squashed that down. Besides, she’d left him behind with the camp for a reason––he didn’t break like she did. She could see that in the way he carried his posture now, less cocky and more confident. His hair was longer and it was hard to imagine a day when he’d slicked it back. He was wearing a newer guards uniform than the one he’d stolen to come to Earth; this one fit him naturally and like it had always been meant for him.

But just when she felt the pangs of jealousy stir up in her, her roving eyes picked up the faint dark circles beneath his eyes, the twitch of his hand at his waist near the gun that lay there. There was still an edge to him.

She hated the relief she felt underlying the sorrow for knowing that maybe there were cracks still struggling to close in him too.

“What are you doing out here?” She asked thickly. Finally regaining movement in her body, she slowly walked closer to him. With a clatter, she dropped the wood down beside the door and he waited for the sound to settle before shrugging and responding.

“I thought I would come and try to find you.”

It’s been almost a month, she almost replied. But that would imply it was all on him when she was the one who had left him.

So she remained silent and the wind rustling through the leaves around them filled the space instead.

“Do you want to help?”

The question burst out of her as he looked to maybe say goodbye. It was a moment of panic––she wasn’t sure he was really here and she wouldn't let him go yet. But his tense posture relaxed and he nodded. He followed her into the hut and she handed him the knife she used for preparing the meat and she got to work on cutting up the mushrooms while he did as well.

“Your hair’s changed with the leaves,” he teased gently, awkwardly, a few minutes later. She self-consciously reached up and touched her hair. She hadn’t updated it in a while, shrouding her blonde hair behind a mask of red.

“It’s just temporary,” she found herself saying. As if the golden locks didn’t remind her of a different person. A girl who could laugh and was called princess and didn’t have the weight of Mount Weather on her shoulders. But somehow she couldn’t let Bellamy think that she was entirely gone. Like the trees in fall, that girl just had to go away for a while.

He simply nodded and continued with his work.

It was almost unnervingly domestic to watch him skin the rabbit, as if he did this all of the time here, so she quickly turned away.

Maybe it was the lack of eye contact that encouraged him because Bellamy spoke up again, as if he’d been waiting for her to face away from him.

“The others miss you, Clarke.” A drawn out pause when he added in a rush: “I miss you.”

She couldn’t fight back the choked up sniffle that came from her. Everyone’s faces were still so vivid in her mind, even through the hazy red tint that had taken over her memories.

I miss you too.

“I thought I was doing the right thing,” she said in a rush, “I knew you could take care of them.”

“And you? What’s taking care of you?”

Was there an unspoken ‘who’ in there? Did Bellamy not see the hollowness of herself and this hut, void of another presence to settle her always thumping heart?

“Sometimes I just listen,” Clarke replied quietly, “and try to hear what the earth is saying around me. What the wind is telling me. The humanity we faced in Mount Weather was so twisted that I think I lost a part of myself there. But when I’m here amongst the trees, I feel like I can hear that part coming back to me. Remembering that there can still be hope down here.”

Bellamy nodded along, his hands still above the rabbit and the knife loose in his hand. He looked as lost in his memories as she felt.

“I’d never force you to come back,” he finally said. But as the wind whistled around the thin walls of the hut, Clarke felt like she heard the silent echo of him asking instead.

“I know,” she responded immediately. She had to make sure that he understood him, better than maybe she even wanted to admit. And the soft smile he gave her was enough to know that he got it, as he returned to his work and her as well.

They continued on in silence and Clarke decided that maybe her regrowth didn’t have to be alone.

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Prompt #25

The Witch’s Life, Anne Sexton

When I was a child there was an old woman in our neighborhood whom we called The Witch. All day she peered from her second story window from behind the wrinkled curtains and sometimes she would open the window and yell: Get out of my life! She had hair like kelp and a voice like a boulder.

I think of her sometimes now and wonder if I am becoming her. My shoes turn up like a jester's. Clumps of my hair, as I write this, curl up individually like toes. I am shoveling the children out, scoop after scoop. Only my books anoint me, and a few friends, those who reach into my veins.

Maybe I am becoming a hermit, opening the door for only a few special animals? Maybe my skull is too crowded and it has no opening through which to feed it soup? Maybe I have plugged up my sockets to keep the gods in? Maybe, although my heart is a kitten of butter, I am blowing it up like a zeppelin. Yes. It is the witch's life, climbing the primordial climb, a dream within a dream, then sitting here holding a basket of fire.

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Prompt #24:

Mad Scientist

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Prompt #23: He of Cloven Hoof / Those Poor Bastards

I don't wanna burn I don't wanna drown I don't wanna lay in no coffin the ground Oh, Devil always following me Walking in the woods Standing in the street Hiding in the eyes of every person that I meet Oh, Devil always following me Hear him walking Hear him walking Hear him walking Devil got my mother Devil got my father Devil gonna get me one of these days But I'm gonna try, sir, to live a little longer I wanna get a chance to waste my life There he is again Scratching on the roof Hear the clip-a-clopping of his cloven hoof Oh, Devil always following me See that rising moon Inevitable doom Living in the shadow of perpetual gloom Oh, Devil always following me Hear him walking Hear him walking Hear him walking Devil got my brother Devil got my sister Devil gonna get me one of these days But I'm gonna try, sir, to live a little longer I wanna get a chance to waste my life He of cloven hoof He of cloven hoof He of cloven hoof He of cloven hoof He of cloven hoof He of cloven hoof He of cloven hoof 

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