sendsummon

[sendsummon]

"A ritual?" He takes the cigarette with his silent thanks, and he lights the both of them before he stashes the lighter again. And he thinks about the term for the length of his first drag and exhale before he agrees. "Yeah. Yeah, you're right."

Pouring all of one's thoughts and feelings and fears out onto paper, and to--with purpose, with mindfulness--cleanse it in the way that only fire can definitely sounds like a ritual.

Maybe he will go home and give it a try to see if it might make him better off. Because he wants that too; he wants it badly. Badly enough, certainly, to risk feeling a little silly if it doesn't do him any noticeable good.

That's really the only thing at risk. Besides maybe burning his apartment complex down.

Taiga rolls the filter between his fingers, back and forth, back and forth, as he pictures writing Daniel's name on a sheet of paper ignite and burn to unrecognizable ash. His eyes unfocus in the process, and he looks very far away.

"I think it's worth a shot."

IT SHOULD BE JARRING, THE DEGREE OF HONESTY WITH WHICH SPIRIT TELLS TAIGA MY HUSBAND WOULD KILL ME.

Once she's said the words out loud, once she takes the time to assess Taiga's reaction, she feels guilty and panicked. She's already anxious about this conversation getting back to Daniel. What would he think of her, saying such a thing? What would he do to her? What would he do to Taiga.

(She still has no idea that Taiga and Daniel already know each other.)

Spirit fishes around in her (designer! though that's currently little comfort) purse for a tattered carton of cigarettes. She holds one out to Taiga, barely aware enough of her environment to remember if he's got his own, then puts her own between her lips.

"That's not a bad idea," she muses. "It sounds like a ritual. Maybe I'd be better off." She sighs. "I want to be better off."

[sendsummon]

@inrovina asked "is there something you're not telling me?"

Yes.

Everything in him seems to twist; to wrest against the unnatural stillness of his vocal chords, his tongue; to goad his lips into parting and allowing the whole, sad story to spill out. Taiga dreams about unburdening himself, but here, presented with the opportunity to do so, he shies away.

He can't put this on Xeno. He can't put this on anyone. And he's--officially--a hypocrite for that. If only Spirit could see him now.

With blanched knuckles, Taiga merges onto the highway, and is grateful for the increased traffic solely because it gives him an excuse not to look at his friend in the passenger seat.

"Nah." Deep breath. Is he starting to sweat? Is it hot enough in the delivery van for that to seem normal? Not really: he'd been a little chilled just moments before. "Nothing important, at least."

Gooseflesh rises on his arms. It feels wrong to dismiss what had happened, and who it had happened to, as unimportant. Even in a lie. Maybe Xeno won't notice.

"Everything's been pretty routine, you know?"

[sendsummon]

His shift is over, and thank heavens for that, he thinks as he takes a moment to stretch out his back just outside the doorless cab of his truck. An audible, satisfied groan slips past his lips as he slowly rights himself again and makes a grab for the belongings he's left on the seat.

Keys. Phone. Wallet. The six pack he'd made an unauthorized stop for on his way back to the depot. He's got everything, and he can head home.

Taiga flinches almost imperceptibly when Xeno's form appears out of seemingly nowhere, coming to a halt with his beverages dangling from the fingers of his left hand.

"Oh, hey Xeno."

Guilt. Lots of instantaneous guilt. Guilt that he tries to push away with a sheepish little wave. But... Okay, maybe it also feels good to have someone--other than his cousin--actually seeking him out. Xeno's not like Boon; Xeno's his friend.

Boon was too, once.

"I've--" Something like an excuse would have fit here, all nice and snug, if Taiga hadn't fixated on the last question instead. "Mad at you?"

He swings the carton of bottles slowly in Xeno's direction, offering him one wordlessly.

"What would I be mad at you for?"

@sendsummon

"You've been avoiding me." Xeno appears at Taiga's side, hurrying to catch up with him. He may or may not have been hanging around the delivery depot all night, waiting to catch a glimpse of Taiga's familiar silhouette.

"Look, I get it, you know, fuck the world and everything, but—" I miss you. God, is that too cheesy? Too desperate? Xeno grimaces at himself. "Are you — mad at me?"

[sendsummon]

A chill prickles down his spine at her last point, and he takes it at face value. He can almost see it now; he can almost see her sitting alongside him, incorporeal but still so very present. He can see her all soft edges and television static, and he hates it.

What happens to people like them when they die, he has to wonder, his eyes flickering over her face while he fights a losing battle against the visible concern of his expression. As if he has any real answers about where anyone else goes. All Taiga knows is that most find their way on their own, and that some need to be shown the door and a gentle push. What's beyond that door is still a mystery.

He wonders, too, if Spirit will find it herself when her time comes.

"Maybe not then," he says, deflating with an I'm-sorry sort of smile and a sigh. He pulls out an old, beat up lighter, and he strikes up a steady flame. "Or maybe you do it, and then you burn it."

SHE LAUGHS — NOT DERISIVELY, BUT CLOSE ENOUGH TO BEING SO. She's too tired to be meaner than comes to her instinctively — which is still meaner than you or I might be inclined to be, no matter what, but it's at least a diminished standard for one Spirit. He's charming, in a boyish way — close enough to her age for Spirit to feel refreshed, indulged, in a way different from her usual state around Daniel.

You should get a therapist he says, and Spirit actually looks stunned. Sure, she'd set herself up for this — and yes, he's right in thinking that she baits a little antagonism now and again — but it's bold that he actually goes for it.

She really should see a therapist, though.

I'd pay the guy myself.

"Asshole," she says, shoving him lightly with her shoulder while he giggles and snorts.

"My husband," she begins plainly, "Would kill me if he found either of those."

[sendsummon]

"CAN WE TALK ABOUT WHAT HAPPENED?" PROMPTS *  assorted dialogue, adjust as necessary

so how long are you going to avoid me?

we should really talk about it.

can we just clear the air?

sit down for a second and talk to me.

i wish you would just look at me for two seconds.

explain to me how that happened.

you handled that a lot better than i expected.

when were you going to tell me the truth about that?

i think it's time we started being honest with one another.

it doesn't do us any good to stay quiet.

you told me you'd tell me the truth. i'm still waiting.

i was hoping for some answers.

what more do you need to hear?

i saw what you did.

when did this start happening?

start from the beginning.

that was a little abrupt.

when did you learn how to do that?

so... that's new.

they called you [title]. why did they call you that?

is there something you're not telling me?

i'd like to discuss what happened between us.

this is going to be really awkward, i'm sure.

when did they start taking orders from you?

who died and made you king?

i missed the part where that was my problem.

you could have given me a heads up.

so... we're just not going to address that?

i saw what happened.

that could have been worse.

you made a mockery of them.

i appreciate what you did for me back there.

you didn't have to stand up for me, and yet you did.

how long have you been planning that?

i think it's about time i was included in these discussions.

you know i could have helped with that.

you got a little scary back there.

i was so certain they were going to kill us.

where'd you learn to pull a stunt like that?

did that really just happen?

i owe you my life.

give me a heads up next time.

you have more power than i thought.

so... is someone going to fill me in?

[sendsummon]

3 - 5 things your muse can be identified by

tagged by: @inrovina (forever ago rip) tagging: yoooouuuu

– emotions / feelings

anxiety

loneliness & abandonment

a drive to make things better

grief

love

– greetings

a small wave and a smile

an elongated heyyyyy!

a wai, when appropriate

a light punch to the arm of a friend or close coworker

seamlessly slipping an arm over a friends shoulder while they walk together

– colors

navy blue

jade green and teal

antique bronze

lime green

khaki tan

– scents

cigarette smoke

a cologne with top notes of citrus and mint, middle notes of watermelon, and base notes of rosewood and amber

diesel fuel and fast food grease

a hard day's work

– clothing

scratchy, bulky uniforms; clunky boots; tube socks pulled high

a billed hat worn backward, with dark hair sticking out over the adjustable band

patterned short sleeve button ups over white tank tops

light wash denim jeans or cut off shorts

a leather cuff or a paracord bracelet

– objects

box cutters and pocket knives

a hand-me-down labradorite worry stone

a set of keys with more cartoon keychains than actual keys + a lanyard with the words GOOD VIBES printed in big, bubble letters and faded rainbow colors

a scuffed up refillable lighter

– vices / bad habits

avoidance and self-isolation

substances as a coping mechanism

speeding to make up lost time when a delivery takes longer than his company would expect

chewing the inside of his cheek or lips if he goes too long without smoking

leg jiggling and finger tapping

– body language

an almost unnatural stillness--a freeze response--in response to bad news or a scary situation

a tentative smile that brightens, with time and familiarity, until it rivals the sun

leaning in toward people he craves closeness with; near misses when his hand aches to hold another

too-tight hugs and lifting his target up off the ground

a shrinking act, when he aims to make himself so small that he might disappear from view

– aesthetics

a photo of a family reunion from years ago, but one of the figures has been wholly cut from the glossy, framed image

an eerie glow in the corner of your eye; something moving behind sheer curtains; a door swinging open, or the floorboards creaking; the television channel changing by itself; terrible whispers singing in your ear; nothing is there, but you know there is

a landlord-special paint job in an inoffensive eggshell white, and it's okay if you don't look too closely at the uneven parts; a bathroom that's seen better days, but it's all your own for the first time; a refrigerator that may or may not be twice your age but still runs like a champ, and whose hum keeps you company in the quiet of the night

– songs

burn by the cure

holy (til you let me go) by rina sawayama

bad ritual by timber timbre

uninvited by alanis morisette

i don't wanna be like you by ruel

[sendsummon]

horrors beyond my comprehension more like horrors beyond my articulation. i know exactly what it is but id never be able to explain it to anyone

[sendsummon]

If you see this you’re legally obligated to reblog and tag with the book you’re currently reading

[sendsummon]

"I don't know." A pause gets drawn out while he tries to think up something with a better connotation. "A key?" It sounds better at least. "Or-- A level up, like in a video game."

Does he know if he could give legs to either explanation? No. Is he content with what he'd come up with all the same? Yes. Yes he is.

"You should get a therapist," he quips back, more or less because he feels like she is expecting him to; like she'd set him up to make the joke and she might be disappointed if he doesn't volley it back over. But also because he thinks, ideally, that she should.

That's a big ask of even the most decorated and highly educated headshrinkers, ain't it though?

"If you find a good one, give me their number, will you?"

It's ridiculous. It's ridiculous enough to pry genuine laughter out of him; the real deal, all rounded out with an awkward, ugly snorting sound.

"But, fuck. What about journalling or something. A video diary?"

@sendsummon (x)

Or more stubborn, I guess. She laughs at that. It's not a remarkably kind laugh — but it isn't cruel, either. It's just a laugh. And it makes her realize how little she laughs when she's mostly-sober like this — how rare happy moments with Marcus have — had — become, rarer still with Daniel, even. Especially Daniel.

"What else would it be, if not a fucking burden?"

She asks this lightly, cursing because cursing is just what she does. They're not arguing; it's more so a spirited debate between two colleagues in the realm of ghostly studies.

And then he explains, and she listens. She comprehends. She has no choice, really, but to see that he's speaking sensibly. But some small part of her cries out against this community, against knowing and being known.

There is just her, alone. There is just a small white room. And the ghosts.

And now Taiga, apparently, with some of the same entities surrounding him.

"Don't feel like you have to, like, give me advice, or whatever. You can just tell me to get a therapist."

[sendsummon]

spell out your url using song titles!

s. si no estás, iñigo quintero

e. everlong, foo fighters

n. nerves, dpr ian

d. deity, aries

s. sanctuary, laica

u. unholy, sam smith + kim petras

m. moonlight, kali uchis

m. murder on the dancefloor!, sophie ellis-bextor

o. ophelia, the lumineers

n. ni muerta, chiquis + snow tha product

stolen from: @inrovina

tagging: @futurehunting + whoever else sees this!

[sendsummon]

@vitalphenomena | burns said "when someone asks you if you're a god, you say yes!"

Discomfited, Taiga's face blanks when he hears what Burns has to say, and he flinches back a step. He does not want to be seen as a god; he does not want to be deified. Honestly, more than half the time? He doesn't want to be seen at all. The feeling of eyes on him--even nonphysical eyes--gets to be a little much sometimes.

And to think of the pleading he hears from lost souls who seek rest and release as prayer directed toward him unnerves him. He knows so little of what he is doing, in any facet of his life.

Taiga is just some guy. Lost in the throes of his own life, he is no shepherd.

He tries to smile, but it's a hollow and placating thing, and his head dips low to avoid looking at Burns as even that peters out.

"That sounds like too much responsibility for me," he says in what he hopes sounds like at least half of a joke. "I can't even keep a goldfish alive."

Well, maybe that's not relevant. It's not like he'd be a god of Life, after all.

[sendsummon]

Taiga tries on a better attitude, one more openly appreciative and positive, but it feels oversized as it hangs off tense shoulders.

"It's-- It's fine."

When Cooper first approached him about this, his initial thoughts had been along the lines of how much worse could things get? He's already been traumatized; he's been largely excommunicated from his extended family through no fault of his own; his cousin, previously his closest friend and most trusted confidante, has turned on him.

Though he supposes that Boon might be the cause of all of this caution on Cooper's part. If what his uncle had said is true, anyway.

He still finds it hard to believe that Boon might be capable of doing real, purposeful harm. To anyone.

He picks up a part of the delivery just to feel like he's helping. Like he's doing something. But all it does is remind him of the deliveries he needs to be making for his own work.

Goodness, he's stressed.

"Did he say when he'd get back to you?"

Sometimes Cooper has no idea if he's doing the right thing. Well, scratch that, MOST of the time Cooper has no idea whether he's doing the right thing, about anything, ever.

But right now, specifically, he doesn't know if he's actually helping Taiga or not. None of his visions have come true yet though, and that's got to be good for something, right?

"I'm sorry," he says, awkwardly, unable to explain that he really, really doesn't want to let Taiga out of his sight right now. "There's this guy I've been talking to online, I've message him a couple times about shit before. He seems cool, y'know, I think he might be able to help. And I do really need to make this delivery for work."

[sendsummon]

taiga's first spirit sending was only a few hours after he was given the ability to do so, and it was an extremely personal affair as his uncle was the spirit in question. it was something of a walkthrough, with his uncle telling him what to do in order to send his spirit. it was meant to be easy: thorn was ready to go at that point, and had decades of experience from the other side of the veil. but taiga--untrained and unprepared for any of it--really struggled with the task at hand. still reeling from the shock of the gift and of his uncle's passing, and it took him a very long time, physically and emotionally exhausting the young man. all the while, he was also being assailed by restless, wayward spirits who were attracted to the drawn out sending process: more and more appeared with every tick of the clock. if he had been properly trained--as his cousin had--this interference would have been something he would have learned to block out. he still has a very hard time filtering out "noise" during sendings, and even while going about his daily, non-related tasks.

[sendsummon]

"𝘌𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘧 𝘪𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘶𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦, 𝘈𝘭𝘭 𝘢 𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘥𝘰 𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘶𝘯𝘵."

[sendsummon]

creepy and kooky, mysterious and spooky … sentence starters

“We aren’t alone here.”

“Its eyes keep following me.”

“I think this place is haunted.”

“Something just touched me…”

“Is that you flickering the lights?”

“That sounds like… children laughing.” 

“I’m not imagining it, there was a face!”

“Is it just me, or do those look like eyes?”

“I swear, there was someone watching us!”

“No, that looks like blood. Why is there blood?”

“The branches look like they’re reaching for us… “ 

“I don’t think we should stay here. It doesn’t feel safe.”

“Oh my god, this is like something out of a horror movie.”

“Take it from me, you should sleep with the light on here.”

“I’ll pay you $20 bucks if you spend the night here, alone.”

“That chair just moved… oh my god, that chair just moved!”

“He’s right there. Can’t you see him? He’s right behind you.”

“Don’t worry, it was just some old story. I’m sure it’s not real.”

“And they say on a night like tonight, you can still hear her singing…”

“No one else is supposed to be here tonight… so, why am I hearing crying?”

“Haha, that was really funny, knocking on the walls like — what do you mean that wasn’t you?”

[sendsummon]

@vitalphenomena | burns said "when someone asks you if you're a god, you say yes!"

Laughter erupts out of him on instinct. The thought of claiming to be a god seems so incredibly absurd that he can't stop it. He laughs until his cheeks are sore and hot; laughs until he's breathing hard and his eyes have teared up.

"You sound like my cousin," Taiga tells Burns when he gets himself back under control. He swipes under his eyes with his knuckles, whisking the moisture away from his waterline.

Thinking about Boon makes him sad, and his mirth fades fast, quieting him. There's nothing funny about him these days: he scary. Scarier than the ghosts, even.

"I don't want to be a god. I didn't want any of this."

[sendsummon]

He's grateful to take the cigarette: his hands have been shaking, tremors kept out of sight but not at bay in his hoodie pocket. The pack he'd had with him that morning had vanished from his cupholder between deliveries when something had tried to get his attention.

Taiga had kept driving, edging the beat up old Sprinter van's speedometer a few ticks above the speed limit in the process.

Eyes closed, he takes a slow drag, trying not to bum more than his fair share. But he'd like to. Oh, he'd like to. He'd burn it right down to the filter and ask for another if the damn things weren't so expensive these days.

Instead, he just tries to savor it; tries to will the nicotine to light up his system faster.

"I think so," Taiga tells him, expelling the smoke from his lungs. He rubs his free hand forcefully up and down one side of his face, handing the cigarette back off to his companion before habit returns it mindlessly to his lips. And the whole while, he avoids eye contact, same as Xeno. "Maybe?"

He looks at the ground, at their shoes, at the butts and the refuse swept into the corner where the building's facade and the concrete meet.

Hours spent together while Taiga drives his route had some interesting conversations, and there's a closeness between them now that had come from that. And while Xeno can't see the things Taiga sees for himself, or hear what he hears, he's listened.

He's listened, and that's much more than Taiga had expected, even if it's not the exact fit he'd been searching for.

"I like having you around."

@sendsummon said, “i was just looking for someone who could see what i see. feel what i feel.”

"And?" There's the question, reeking with a pathetic kind of hesitancy. Rain is falling with relentless drive, soaking the night streets. They've found an awning to huddle under during the shower, bass slipping out under their feet from the club behind.

Xeno takes a drag on the cigarette to distract himself. Someone. It's open. Non-specific. Anyone could be someone. Someone could be anyone. Maybe that's what's bothering him. The unknown. He wants to be a person who matters; a person who helps. Can see, can feel. He doesn't know if he's someone Taiga needs, though. It's only the sight that might be the problem, he thinks. Xeno feels everything.

Exhaling smoke, he offers the cigarette to Taiga while still dodging his gaze.

"Did you? Find someone?"