#i was too lazy to draw the messages from the constellations

[jgracie]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ the way they love in which i share some little things about being in a relationship with the hoo boys

masterlist | rules

warnings none!

percy ⊹ embarrassing yourself so the other isnt embarrassed alone. making sure you aren't overworking yourself. being compared to an old married couple. drawing on the other's schoolbooks when they aren't looking. everyone can see it but the two of you. insisting whatever he baked is good even though its burnt and probably bad for you. always buying two of everything. endearing nicknames. spending more time at his place than your own. getting random “i thought of you” texts followed by an image only the two of you would understand.

jason ⊹ tucking you in bed after a long night. memorising your skincare routine to a t just in case theres a day youre too lazy to do it. lovingly teaching you concepts you dont understand. whispered confessions late at night. promise rings. spraying your perfume on his things so he can have something to comfort him when he misses you. scrapbooks of your lives as teens for your kids to flip through when you're older. asking him to sleep in just one more hour. painting your nails his favourite colour. princess treatment.

leo ⊹ taking care of the other when theyre ill and getting yourself sick in the process. keeping a mental note of all your likes and dislikes. acts of service acts of service acts of service. making random little gadgets just for the sake of making the other's life the tiniest bit easier. dancing 'round the kitchen in the refrigerator light. carving your initials with a heart around them on the trunk of a tree. spam texts. warm, feel good hugs. learning how to make dishes from your culture to remind you of home. messages in morse code.

frank ⊹ trusting the other more than you trust yourself. putting things on the top shelf just so he has an excuse to help you (and flaunt his height). mornings always spent together. giving the other the bigger half of whatever you're sharing. lighthearted competition. being proud of each other no matter what. physical touch. making eye contact from across a packed room. doing your hair better than you ever could. having movie marathons every night. knowing if you prefer gold or silver. watching all 146 tiktoks you send him in the span of an hour.

travis ⊹ incorporating the other's favourite music into your own playlists, no matter how different their taste is. shamelessly calling you "the wife". pictures of you in his wallet. pictures of you on his phone. pictures of you everywhere. arm tightly wrapped around your waist. piggyback rides. sleepovers. drawing constellations out of his freckles. your personal photographer and videographer. having his proposal planned from the age of 14. partners in crime. sweater weather by the neighbourhood.

[tomriddleslove]

OKAY I SAW THAT U WERE DOONG THE PAIRINGS AND I HAD TO JUMP ON IT, HOPEFULLY THIS ISNT TOO LONG

I have hip length brown hair w a little wave at the bottom, brown eyes, 5’2, my style is like a mix between like flowy sundresses, yoga pants and hoodies, natural makeup but w subtle pink eyeshadow and sparkles!

Personality wise I’m super shy, I LIVE for music (top 3 r $B Lana and Chase Atlantic), empathetic, a little lazy (😖), bookworm, introvert, I’m an INTJ-T if that helps, OH and I’m into astronomy + astrology, on that note I’m a Pisces!

I LOVE THESE BECAUSE I CAN TELL WHO YOUD MATCH BY THE WAY YOU SENT THIS MESSAGE.

Pairing: Theodore Nott.

The second you said sundresses and long hair, I knew you would be Theodore’s girl without a doubt.

A super shy, bookworm music lover is basically Theodore when he’s not putting on the whole loud guy act with his friends.

He 100% fell in love with you at first sight, and he’s not afraid to be terrifyingly cheesy when he’s with you.

You’re his all to him, and he’d drop anything for you at any moment. He follows you around like a lovesick puppy, heart eyes and all. Carrying your bag for you, picking you up from lessons.

He brings you flowers every weekend and happily funds all your shopping trips. He loves buying you clothes and seeing you look all pretty, knowing he’s the only one who gets to have you.

He loves listening to you talk about astronomy. It’s how the two of you met, sitting next to one another during your lessons.

Despite having been in a relationship with his for a while, he’s still embarassed to admit how much of a love he has for topics like astronomy. He was educated on them as a child, and never gave up reading and researching. He doesn’t tell you that he knows all the facts you tell them, because he loves the way your eyes light up when you babble onto him about whatever odd new thing you’ve learnt.

On your birthday, you both sneak out of the castle, and into hogsmeade. He takes you up a steep trail, and he assures you it’s all worth it whilst you complain about being dragged up a hill in the freezing cold. However, the second the view comes into sight you take it all back.

Without any pollution from the light, the stars are clear as day. It’s almost surreal, the way they seem to fill the abandon of the night sky. The two of you lay there for what seems like hours. exchanging little faces and snacking on some sweets Theodore had stolen from Lorenzo earlier on that day.

He gifts you a small silver locket, with your constellation engraved on the back. When you open the locket, there’s a small drawing. It was a little doodle you did on the note you passed Theodore the first time you both started talking. He pulls your hair to the side, gently clasping the locket around your neck before tenderly pressing a kiss to your temple.

“Happy birthday, My love.”

[trashbins-stuff]

some info abt me:

PART ONE THIS IS PART ONE (just summary):

Haiii!! ^^ :3 we M.A.C constellation program (collective) (M.A.C is for Morbid Antisocial Cosmonaut) (p-did!!)

name: bin !!!!

! also goes by crt, roxy, ve, vinnie, danny, catatonia, caroline, brownie/cosmoes

! also sunshine, ellie/ellen, jenny, loverock is cool too!!

! friends/moots feel free to use candycane, ell, badger, đèn dầu/đd/dd, cosmic sunshine, vincent or any silly nicknames <3

! also goes by kin names, code name r jsut for the funsie that is all :3

-collectively identify as arospec queer agirlboy (agender/genderless but want 2 be perceive as girlboy) (full girl half boy) + ghostgender + system-fluid + autospec, altho headmates have their own orientation yeah

-ocdtism adhd dysgraphia and is kleptomaniac w mild ptsd(+)

-language we can speak: Vietnamese + English

-local manic pixie dream robot >:)

-SICK IN THE HEAD

-public enemy number one

-doodle request r closed

-art tag:

current #trashbins-art

old: #i know it look uggo but i was drawing with a mouse okay??? (it is very unique ik/j)

boundaries (dni and thin ice):

-neutral/agaisnt Palestine dont int ill block you

-Homophobic, Transphobic, Xenophobic, Islamophobic, Misogynistic, Racist, Sexist, Ableist, Discrimination, Truscum.. ILL BLOCK!!

-ppl that like to start drama, i might avoid you

-dont call my headmates siblings

-if were not supa dupa close and jsut mootie that int sometime then ill be happy if we have toher shared fandom but uhm when u get jsut a lil close enough and i see u reblog my fandom post that u arent in i get super uncomfy, huge pet peeve, big no no

before you follow, were:

-pro mspec les and mspec gay, anti harassment, other opinions we havent thought about much, neutral or dont care, note that our opinions is not who we are, some of you do not know this

-https://www.tumblr.com/blurds/189809870109/do-you-have-an-about-page-with-relevant

PART THE POWER OF TWOOOOOO (social, plz check carrd and pronoun page to know more):

-my pinterest

-discord: trashbin2587

-my spotify

-pronouns page (there are english, norwegian and vietnamese ver)

-pronouns.cc (go more in deep)

-carrd for overall

-carrd for headmate intro

-toyhouse

-I HAVE A PILLOWFORT NOW

-artfight

PART THIRD TIME THE CHARM!! (other stuff):

-sona info sheet (bins the objectsona also has 2 pairs of wings like humanoid form, im jsut too lazy to redraw lole):

Items desp:

-bin's personal trusty shovel, bin like to refer to it as "Shovel Phoenix Thoradotte!! WARRIOR OF BURIED TREASURE, DESTROYER OF DIRT AND MY BESTIE!!1!" (if the string snapped or get removed form the shovel, bin shut down and go to a stage kinda like parallelogram (obs) when jerard died and stuck in a dream-loop until the string (u can get a new one) is tied back. the string being there is kinda of holding everything bin want to forget in) bin's is hesitant to telling ppl about the shovel in fear of them hurting it

i hope you have a great day :)

tags for moots (wip):

-carpybara (circuitcarp)

-blairy (blairdrawzstuff)

-moony hazel (moonmxple)

-winters ice trail (winterwrxter)

-messages from the stars (salachy-part-two)

-theres a frog in my boot and now were best bros (snoot-in-yo-boot)

-a harp-mony (harpjsutexsists)

-cola with no coca (devycola)

-tinted tunes (haiamkai)

-gooooobz (gooberdrawz)

-lovely shoelace (mausuwinasa)

-cuperooooo <3 (mochablogger)

synpath list below"

notes: red means theyre my fickin and im not always fine with doubles (especially if were very very close friends, am fine with double that i just met, already know theyre that before, or friends who arent that close, ask if u want), blue means high-mid synpath/other-hearted?, green means mid-low synpath (yes i know some of these characters r pieces of shits yes i still relate to them </3)

sasha waybright (amphibia)

tord (ew)

cabby (ii)

ruby (bfdi)

remote (bfdi)

airy (hfjone)

charlottle/moldy (hfjone)

blue rectangle (voo)

buzzery (obs)

pinkie pie (mlp)

bmo (adventure time)

roxy lalonde (homestuck)

sollux captor (homestuck)

danny fenton (danny phantom)

the second coming (ava)

anne boonchuy (amphibia)

marcy wu (amphibia)

blueberry (ii)

clover (ii)

four (bfdi/xfohv)

gold ingot (ppt2)

treasure chest (ppt)

slipper (ppt2)

journal (ppt2)

fireball (aib)

pill (aib)

pitchfork (aib)

comet (objectified)

bee (bee&puppycat)

fionna (fionna&cake)

chloe garcia (dork diaries)

yuki sakasima (pretty girl neko show)

spinel (su)

horrid henry (horrid henry)

gus porter (toh)

luz noceda (toh)

mephone4 (ii)

bot (ii)

oodle (aib)

bone (aib)

moonstone (ee)

pool (object invasion)

thanks for reading! :] im probably gonna update these as time goes on

[scumsucking]

Well, I’m afraid that the circles I’ve been drinking myself in

Aren’t big enough for the vowels that

I try to fit inside of them

When I was young, I drank too much, and I’d be lying if I said

I didn’t feel so goddamn young tonight

Maybe too young to ask what’s on my mind

Like if freedom means doing what I want

Well, don’t I gotta want something?

And won’t you tell me that we want something more than just more beer?

And my friends, if that ain’t true, won’t you lie to me tonight? (oh yeah)

Well, I’ve been listening to Minor Threat records all day

And shit if I do not know every word

I sing along as I tie off

And Ian screams he’s “Out of Step”

As I throw the cotton into the spoon, draw up into the syringe

I’ll know just what he means until I hit a vein

But after that I won’t have to bother with knowing who I am

For a while at least

In a moment the whole world is gonna melt around me

And I’ll swear I don’t miss it as a I lie to you tonight

Because I’m afraid to look the world in the eye

If nothing’s gonna change, well, then I’d rather die

And I’m too unemployed to organize a union

I’m too intoxicated to tear down a building

I’m too hopeless to look for a solution, I’m afraid that if I found one

I’d be out of excuses for the way

I waste away in the gutters that I chose

Like fashion accessories to go with my dirty clothes

I haven’t bathed in months, but you know it’s not because

I’ve been fighting bourgeois morals, I’m just lazy and I’m young

I’ve seen the best minds of my generation

Dying drunk or high from the rooftops to the parking lots

Stomped to death in west Philadelphian squats

They’ve got me waiting on a day when we can say “fuck the police!”

With a little bit of integrity

When it will mean: “I’ve got your back if you’ve got mine!”

Give me a scene where I believe in more

Than bad hair cuts, guilt, and misery

I don’t know where I fit between the vegans and the nihilists

That might be the first thing I’ve said that wasn’t a lie tonight

Because there’s gotta be something more

Than lying in the front yard, naked, screaming at the constellations

I want something more than an apology to say

When I look the world in the eye

I’ll tell you, man, my friend William came to me with a message of hope

It went: “Fuck you and everything that you think you know

If you don’t step outside the things that you believe

They’re gonna kill you.”

He said: “You think no one’s gonna stop you from dying young and miserable? You're right!

If you want something better, you gotta put that shit aside.”

I thought about how for thousands of years

There have been people who told us that things can’t go on like this

From Jesus Christ to the Diggers, from Malthus to Zerzan,

From Karl Marx to Huey Newton

But the shit goes on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on

On and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on

Now, I’m not saying that we can’t change the world

'Cause everybody does at least a little bit of that

But I won’t shit myself, the way I’m living is a temper tantrum and I

Need something else, need something else, need something else to stay alive

And on the night that I play my last show, I’ll be

Singing so loud that my heart explodes

And I’ll be singing, I’ll be singing: 'We are free!'

Oh, but won’t you promise me that we won’t ever

Forget what the means?

I know it’s hard to give a shit sometimes, but promise me we’ll always try

Cause I don’t wanna hate you, and I don’t wanna hate me

And I don’t wanna have to hate everything anymore

[whateverthebeeswant]

Not to be emo at 4:11 am but well I’m afraid the circles I’ve been drinking myself in aren’t big enough for the vowels I try to fit inside of them when I was young I drank too much and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel so goddamn young tonight maybe too young to ask what’s on my mind like if freedom means doing what I want well don’t I gotta want something won’t you tell me that we want something more than just more beer and my friends if that ain’t try won’t you lie to me tonight oh yeah! Well I’ve been listening to minor threat records all day and shit if I do not know every word I sing along as I tie off and Ian screams he’s out of step as I throw the cotton into the spoon draw up into the syringe I’ll know just what he means until I hit a vein but after that I won’t have to bother with knowing who I am for a while at least in a moment the whole world is gonna melt around me and I’ll swear I won’t miss it as I lie to you tonight! Cause I’m afraid to look the world in the eye if nothings gonna change well then I’d rather die and I’m too unemployed to organize a union I’m too intoxicated to tear down a building I’m too hopeless to look for a solution I’m afraid that if I found one I’d be out of excuses for the way I waste away in gutters that I chose like fashion accessories to go with my dirty clothes I haven’t bathed in months but you know it’s not because I’ve been fighting bourgeoisie morals I’m just lazy and I’m young I’ve seen the best minds of my generation dying drunk or high from the rooftops to the parking lots stomped to death in west Philadelphian squats they’ve got me waiting on the day when we can say fuck the police with a little bit of integrity when it’ll mean I’ve got your back if you’ve got mine give me a scene where I believe in more than bad haircuts, guilt, and misery I don’t know where I fit between the vegans and the nihilists that night be the first thing I said that wasn’t a lie tonight Because there’s gotta be something more than lying in the front yard naked screaming at the constellations I want something more than an apology to say when I look the world in the eye I’ll tell you man my friend William came to me with a message of hope it went “fuck you and everything that you think you know, if you don’t step outside the things that you believe are gonna kill you” he said “No ones gonna stop you from dying young and miserable and right!! If you want something better you gotta put that shit aside” I thought about how for thousands of years there have been people who told us that things can’t go on like this from Jesus Christ to the Diggers from Malthus to Zerzan from Karl Marx to Huey Newton but the shit goes onandon and onandon and onandon and onandon and onandonandonandon and on and on I’m not saying that we can’t change the world cause everybody does at least a little bit of that but I won’t shit myself the way I’m living is a temper tantrum and I want something else need something else need something else to stay alive whoahoh and on the night that I play my last show hope I’m screaming so loud that my heart explodes and I’ll be singing I’ll be singing we are free oh but won’t you promise me that we won’t ever forget what that means I know it’s hard to give a shit sometimes but promise me we’ll always true cause I don’t wanna hate you and I don’t wanna hate me and I don’t wanna have to hate anything Anymore!!

[hllfireclub]

here’s a random lil percabeth drabble i wrote last night. please forgive any spelling errors, i wrote this while half asleep lmao

(fluff, a little bit of sexy times, post-hoo)

══════════════════

When Percy had told her that he was taking the day off for their anniversary, Annabeth hadn’t believed him. Sure, she would love having him to herself for an entire day, especially on their wedding anniversary, but being the director of a camp of demigods wasn’t really something you could take the day off from. She couldn’t fault him for that, not when she knows how important his job is to him, and she had come to terms with the fact that she would probably only get him all to herself after the sun went down.

So it comes as quite the surprise when she wakes to familiar lips placing soft kisses along the back of her neck. When she stirs, strong arms tighten around her waist and the kisses make a path down across the span of her freckled shoulders.

“G’morning, beautiful,” Percy murmurs against her skin, his voice still thick and gravelly from hours of not being in use. With a soft sigh, Annabeth rolls over so she can rest her forehead against his chest. Percy immediately switches his positioning to make her more comfortable, arms circling around her torso and his hand resting on the small of her back. His fingers brush against her bare skin, and her still sleep fogged mind recognizes that he’s drawing something into her skin with the tips of his fingers. It’s a simple touch, nothing incredibly intimate or significant, but it fills Annabeth with a warmth that starts at the top of her head and trickles all the way down to her toes and a flutter to erupt in her stomach.

“What time is it?” She mumbles, though her mouth doesn’t seem to get the message that she’s supposed to be awake, because it comes out more like ‘whatimeisit?’ Percy laughs quietly, the sound sending a rumble through his chest beneath her cheek.

“Almost 8:30.”

Annabeth frowns. No, that can’t be right. Percy’s usually out of bed and the house for the day by at least 7:45, and her alarm clock for the past fourteen months has been their daughter’s cries over the baby monitor. She lifts her head from his chest, blinking sleep and fog from her eyes.

“8:30? Why are you still in bed?” He laughs again, running his fingers through her curls and twirling one around his finger absentmindedly.

“I told you I was taking the day off, ‘Beth. Remember?” He nudges her side gently, giving her a teasing look that says ‘come on now.’

That warm feeling from earlier returns, only growing in intensity. Her skin tingles and grows hot under his touch, making every nerve ending he brushes against sing in joy. With the warm morning light shining through the linen curtains and illuminating Percy in all the right ways, he looks almost ethereal. The shadows falling on his jaw make it look even more defined and precise than usual, like he’s a marble statue carved by the hands of an artist, and Annabeth is hit with an overwhelming wave of butterflies. She remembers him the way he was when they first met, and it’s almost impossible to imagine that the 12 year old boy she had nursed back to health and the proud, strong and overwhelmingly good man holding her were the same person. He could have had anyone he wanted, and yet he chose her. Over and over again, he had chosen her, and she suddenly feels the urge to thank Aphrodite for deciding she was worthy of Percy loving her.

She thinks of telling him how she longed for something permanent, something that could endure hundreds and hundreds of years of battering and destruction but remain unchanged by the hands of time. Annabeth had once thought that the only way she could complete that goal was with her architecture, but she suddenly realized that she had already achieved that desire. Not in the redesigned cabin, not in the battles she’d fought, but in Percy and their daughter. If she was to be remembered only by the love that her and Percy had, the love that had brought Alexandria into the world, she was more than okay with that.

Annabeth leans into his touch, tilting her head up to kiss him softly, hoping that she could convey everything she wanted to say to him through the warmth and gentleness of their lips moving against each other. He seems to understand, nodding almost imperceptibly — so subtle she’s not even sure that he knows he did it. But its meaning is clear enough; I know. Me too.

The kiss is everything she needs it to be; soft, warm, and understanding. It makes her feel more like she’s being hugged rather than kissed, and she thinks that she could spend an eternity kissing Percy Jackson.

Percy is the one to pull back to catch his breath, resting his forehead against hers and cradling the back of her head in one large hand. Soft lips find their way to the cut of her jaw and then the crook of her neck, brushing oh-so-softly against her pulse point. With every kiss, he leaves a trail of pleasant electricity across the expanse of her skin.

“The whole day?” Annabeth asks, voice soft and yet still deafening in the sanctuary of their bedroom. She almost regrets speaking at all, afraid of shattering the illusion. But Percy doesn’t disappear, doesn’t dissolve into a cloud of mist. His hands rest on her hips, brushing his thumbs along the soft skin underneath the hem of her shirt.

“The whole day,” he confirms, and Annabeth’s heart skips far too many beats to be considered normal when he looks up at her through his eyelashes. Percy looked at her with such intense adoration sometimes that she almost feels like she’s suffocating. His lips are curved into that soft smile that hooked her in all those years ago, and the light reflecting in his eyes makes them look like sunlight hitting the waves. “Alex is having a sleepover with my mom and Paul. I’m yours, ‘Beth.”

And gods if that’s not the best thing she’s ever heard. With Percy running Camp Half-Blood and Alex requiring constant attention, it was a luxury these days if they could spend any time together outside of their bedroom at night. Having him for the entire day, all to herself, feels like a dream. She brushes a few strands of hair out of his eyes, and Percy turns his head to kiss her palm. And I’m yours. Always.

“I love you,” Annabeth breathes out, hand coming up to rest at the nape of his neck where she can card her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. Percy doesn’t answer; he doesn’t have to. When he captures her lips in another kiss, he tells her everything she’s ever wanted to know. The world around them fades to black, the only thing existing in this moment being Annabeth and Percy. Nothing else matters anymore.

And then suddenly, the chaste, lazy kisses aren’t enough. Their rhythm becomes more heated, hands mapping out every curve of each other’s bodies, desperate to feel closer. More, more, more. Clothes are discarded and scattered across the room. Percy makes Annabeth see constellations and stars she’s never seen before, makes her body sing in pleasure and warmth and love. They don’t need words for this, they never have — they’ve always understood each other in unexplainable ways, knowing exactly what to do to make the other lose their breath without ever having to be told. It’s a dance of pushing and pulling and ‘I love you’s’ gasped out in between sighs and moans and names uttered as if they were prayers.

Annabeth curls into his chest when they’re done, hair sticking to the back of her neck with sweat. They lie in comfortable silence while they both catch their breath, and all she can think about is how she deserved a man like Percy Jackson. She places soft kisses across the flat planes of his chest, and his hands run up and down her sides comfortingly. When she speaks, her voice is quiet and raw from the noises he pulled from her.

“Happy anniversary, Seaweed Brain.” Again, Annabeth can feel the vibrations of his laugh reverberate inside his chest. Her eyes are closed, but she can tell he’s smiling — can hear it in his voice.

“Happy anniversary, Wise Girl.”

[lia-jones]

Growing Together - Chapter Three - Rising Star

Victor barely slept that night, concerned about his wife.

Andrea barely ate anything at dinner and began to look lethargic and sore, the rabies shot affecting her even more than the monkey bite itself, probably bringing a fever with it. When she said she wanted to take a shower and go to bed, he took matters into his own hands and helped her shower, afraid she would collapse should she do it on her own. After he settled her in bed, it took mere seconds for her to fall asleep, warm and cozy against him, while he entertained himself with a book. He watched over her, holding a quiet vigil in her slumber, making sure she was warm, comfortable, and healthy.

Once again, Andrea’s stirring woke Victor up. The sun was starting to rise in the Balinese sky, the only thing audible was the ebb and flow of the waves in the distance, the local birds still slumbering in their nests. He wondered if she was starting to get a fever, her cheeks looking more flushed than usual. He gently pressed his lips against her forehead, deeming the temperature acceptable. He wondered if her injury was causing discomfort, unable to t tell if her shoulder was swollen under the bandage. With a very light hand, he touched her on that spot, trying to determine if there was swelling or something that could indicate an infection. Everything seemed normal. She was safe and sound in his arms. Satisfied, Victor leaned his face against her hair and closed his eyes to sleep.

However, he found himself unable to fully relax.

Another thought stirred inside Victor’s somnolent mind. Taking care of Andrea physically was not his only job as a husband, he had to make sure she was happy as well. His biggest challenge, however, was that he had no idea of what made a good husband, or a good father, for that matter. He remembered witnessing his parents happy and in love at a very young age, and after that they had drifted apart, both using their careers as an excuse.

Victor could only guess what being a good husband meant, because he truly had no tangible idea. Still, he would try his best. Andrea gave him so much. She certainly deserved his best.

Victor grimaced as he remembered the way he scolded her earlier; he had reminded himself of his own father: insensitive, imperious, cruel even. Even if it was based on concern and good intentions, his wife did not deserve to be spoken to that way. He made a decision there and then: his main goal for the next day would be to make Andrea smile and allow her to shine her brightest.

Victor tried his best to keep true to his promise, tending to her every need, watching her mood carefully, and acting accordingly. The resort doctor came again to check her wound, which had improved greatly overnight, and told them she could remove the bandage. As a reward of sorts, Victor and Andrea took a dive in the swimming pool, ate, and slept, returning to their previous honeymoon bliss. Still, Andrea seemed sad for some reason, her natural light dimmer than usual. It was when she caught her, later that day, staring at her purse, lost in thought, that he understood why. She was worried about all the text messages Olive had left her.

It was only natural that she would worry, not knowing what was happening back home could only make her picture all sorts of scenarios, probably even worse than the one that was actually happening. On the other hand, Victor knew that the moment she found out there was something wrong with her study, she would lose her for the rest of the honeymoon. She wouldn’t trust other people much with her work and would want to supervise every single inch of progress, forgetting all about the honeymoon. Whatever was happening back in Loveland, Olive and the research team would have to fend for themselves. In the meantime, Victor would have to take his wife’s mind off the subject.

After dinner, Victor took her outside to enjoy the warm night on the patio. They laid down on the big bed by the pool, watching the stars.

“Does your shoulder hurt?” He eyed her carefully, as she tried to make herself more comfortable on the mattress.

“No, not anymore.” She tossed a bit more. “Just trying to find the perfect position.”

Victor smirked to himself. She could be such a dummy sometimes.

“Luckily for you, I know exactly what my wife needs.” He tugged her arm, pulling her closer. “Come use your special pillow.”

She smiled and snuggled against him, resting her head on his chest.

“You were right, this is much better.” She moved closer, as Victor’s arm came behind her, drawing lazy circles on her skin.

They laid still for a moment, enjoying the quiet of the night, until Andrea broke the silence.

“Do you know anything about constellations?”

“Can’t say that I do, why?” He looked at her, curious.

“You and I, laying like this, looking at the stars…” She trailed off. “It’s like in the movies.”

Victor couldn’t hide his smile. Even his wife, who was always so practical and down to earth, enjoyed some romance from time to time. He would obviously oblige. That’s what a good husband would do.

“Anyone could tell you about the most commonly known constellations, such as the Big Dipper or Orion’s Belt.” He playfully quipped. “But only I can tell you about the Mystery Constellations, which only a handful of men on this planet know about.”

“Is that so?” Andrea smiled, playing along. “Mystery Constellations, you say?”

“Now that you are my wife, I feel more at ease sharing this incredibly sensitive information with you, provided you promise me you won’t tell another soul. Do I have your word?” He ceremoniously asked, making his wife giggle.

“You have my word.” She answered, amused.

“Perfect.” He nodded, pointing to the sky. “Do you see those four stars, forming an imperfect trapezoid?”

“Those over there?” She looked at the spot in the sky where he was pointing. “Yes, I guess.”

“That’s the constellation of Pudding.” The statement made Andrea laugh hard, and Victor almost lost his composure as well. “Don’t laugh, I’m serious.” He scolded, trying hard to suppress his laughter.

“There’s a constellation called Pudding?” Andy laughed again.

“I don’t know why you doubt me, it’s right there.” He answered in all seriousness, making Andrea laugh again. “The legend says that, once upon a time, there was a prince that wanted to conquer this incredibly short and difficult princess’s heart.” He stifled a laugh, seeing she didn’t like the remark on her height. “However, the only thing he knew how to make was pudding, and this particular damsel did not like pudding, so the prince was in quite a predicament. He prayed to the gods to provide him with the finest ingredients, so he could prepare the perfect pudding, the one that would make her fall in love. The gods, moved with the very noble and handsome prince’s devotion, granted him his wish. He made the perfect pudding, a dessert so glorious it was known to drive mortals insane if they had too much of it, and also likely to cause a tummy ache.”

At this point, Andrea was lost in laughter.

“Do you want me to tell you the story or not? Your mockery is aggravating.” He teased her, just to see if he could make her laugh even more.

“Go on, noble and handsome prince.” She teased him back.

“I shall.” Victor continued. “Resuming, the prince had obtained the perfect gift to bestow to his loved one, but the gods had become jealous. Who was this mortal to become worthy of something so divine, that was clearly destined for the gods and the gods alone? They took the pudding away from the prince, and to reward him for his efforts, they made a constellation in the sky shaped like a pudding, to honor such a gastronomic masterpiece.”

“Wow, stargazing and storytelling. I’m impressed.” Andrea complimented, making Victor smirk internally. “But what about the prince? Did he get the girl?”

“It turns out the prince never needed pudding in the first place. May I remind you, he was very desirable.” Victor got another laugh from his wife.

“I’m inclined to agree with that.” Andrea smiled suggestively. “Thank you for showing me such a mysterious constellation.”

“I’m not done yet.” Victor was actually having fun acting silly. It was truly enjoyable to hear his wife laugh like that. Almost as much as making her scream his name. “Do you see those three stars in a row? That constellation is named King of Highhorseland.” Andrea laughed even harder than before. “Legend says…”

“Quit being petty!” She playfully scolded him, poking him in the ribs.

“Let me finish!” He poked her back.

“Nope. Another one.” She insisted, making Victor chuckle, amused that he was able to provoke her.

“Alright, fair enough.” He relaxed on the mattress, focused on the starry sky again. “Can you see that star over there, the brightest of them all?”

“You mean the plane?” She asked with a flat voice.

“I mean the star.” Victor corrected, although part of him was wondering if she was right.

“I’m pretty sure it’s a plane, Victor.”

“Excuse me, who is the knowledgeable astronomer here?” He playfully frowned at her. “This very special star is called Andrea. She’s bright, magical, and beautiful, and she brightens up my dark sky.” He came closer to her, their breaths mingling, their lips almost touching.

“That’s incredibly sweet.” She whispered. “Although you just named a plane after me.”

“Shut up.” Victor claimed her mouth for a kiss, slightly biting on her bottom lip, and all the foolery was promptly forgotten. There were other ways to make his wife forget all about her predicament, and the one Victor had in mind would prove to be even more pleasurable.

He tasted every inch of her skin, drawing from her lips all the pleasurable sounds she had in her, and only when she screamed his name in euphoria, when he bathed her and washed and soothed her spent body, did he let her collapse in his arms blissfully, her skin glowing as it always would when she was feeling happy.

As he watched her sleep, her body pressed against his, his chest swelled with the pride of a job well done. He had taken good care of her. He was a good husband.

He woke up before her, as usual. The bellhop delivered breakfast soon after, and came bearing a message: Goldman had called, and said a certain Mrs. Olive Carson was repeatedly calling LFG to find a way to reach Andrea.

Victor looked at his wife still sleeping peacefully. Why was the Dean being so insistent? Andrea was on her honeymoon, whatever reason she may have to inconvenience them, it better be a good one. Decided to take matters into his own hands, Victor took his phone and dialed Olive’s number, ready to severely reprehend her for being so inappropriate.

The conversation took an unexpected turn, and Victor found himself thanking her excitedly, telling her Andrea would call soon. He took a deep breath before he went to wake up his wife. He was so excited he could barely contain it, and he would probably scare Andrea.

He caressed her curls, watching her eyelids flutter to consciousness.

“Come on, sleepyhead. You have pressing matters to attend.” He tried to whisper, although he was so happy he found himself unable to be as gentle as he hoped.

“Breakfast? That can wait a few more minutes.” She rolled to the other side, her back facing him.

Victor was growing impatient. She needed to know the good news from the source, he didn’t want to be the one to tell her. But for that, she would need to stop her shenanigans.

“No time for snoozing, Andrea.” He then remembered something that would make her bolt from bed. “You need to call Olive. Something happened.”

As expected, Andrea jumped from the covers abruptly. Victor handed her the phone with a smile. Not that she noticed.

“Oh my God, what do you think happened?” She took the phone from his hand, a worried look on her face. She pressed the dial and waited for the recipient to pick up. Victor sat beside her, heart jumping in exhilaration.

He watched his wife grimace at the first words of the conversation, only for her expression to become one of disbelief. In each change in her, Victor’s smile went wider. When she hung up, she was frozen in shock, her eyes tearing up slightly.

“I won a GESA award.” She spoke slowly, not really believing it herself. “For Most Promising Mind in Economics. My study isn’t even completely over yet, but they loved it.” She suddenly jumped to Victor’s arms. “I won a GESA! Do you understand what this means?”

Victor wasted no time, now that his happiness could have an outlet. He took his wife and spun her around, both laughing with happiness. He then stopped, still holding her in the air, to kiss her as passionately as he felt. When they broke the kiss, they both looked at each other, their eyes shiny with happiness.

“It means you are brilliant, like I always knew you were.” His voice was tight with emotion, words failing to describe how blessed he felt. “It was only a matter of time for the world to see it too.”

“I didn’t do this alone, Victor.” Happy tears fell as she lovingly combed his hair back with her fingers. “You were my greatest support in all of this. You believed in me, even when I didn’t. You encouraged me and you watched over me. I can’t thank you enough, really.” She took his face in his hands and kissed his lips fervently. “I love you so much. Thank you for being in my life.”

“Thank you for being in mine.” He put her down, so his hands would be free to wipe away her tears. “I love you too, my light. And I am so very proud of you.” He kissed her forehead, his lips lingering on her skin. “Now, go get breakfast so we can go out and celebrate. We’ll go anywhere you want, as long as there are no animals involved.”

Andrea’s smile was so beautiful he couldn’t resist but to pick her up in his arms again, carrying her to the table. Victor couldn’t imagine a time in his life when he had felt so lighthearted, and they were only getting started, he still had a lifetime of happiness by her side. Whatever she thought he did, he would do it again and much more, just to see that smile on her face, casting a warm powerful light in his life and everything around her. Because she was the brightest star in his life. More than that, she was a rising star.

[castielsshield]

Noise

Title: Noise (Leave A Message Part 2)

Pairing: Female OC/Sam Winchester

Synopsis: After losing Jess, Sam continues to leave messages on her phone as a coping mechanism. Unbeknownst to Sam, that number has been adopted by another person.

Word Count: 1,696

Warnings: None

Part 1 || Part 3 || Masterpost

— • —

From that day forward, I continued getting voicemails from the stranger. I learned about him from the simple conversations he had with himself. Most of the time, the messages contained nothing but the man on the other end crying and apologizing to the woman named Jess. Every once in a while, details about his life seeped through.

    I learned that he had been going to college at Stanford, and he had dreams of becoming a lawyer with a family. The girl he was leaving messages to was his first love. The guy he mentioned in the first message, Dean, was his brother. They were working together to find their missing father.

     It went on like that for months. The messages began at the beginning of December. Now, it’s the beginning of May. Now, the voicemails started to change.

     My phone rang in the middle of the night, two in the morning, to be exact. I knew it wasn’t my father calling me; he wasn’t out on business at that time. ‘It must be Mystery Boy,’ I thought to myself, groggy from waking up without warning. Looking at my phone, I saw 'Mystery Boy' typed across the front of the screen, confirming my theory.

     Letting the phone ring until the mystery man reached my voicemail, I rolled over to turn on my lamp. Pulling out my chapter book, I began reading as the guy left a message to Jess on my phone.

     Around five minutes later, my phone notified me that I had a new voicemail with a now-familiar ping. I placed my bookmark in the dip between the pages and picked up my phone. I opened the phone, not bothering to look at what the screen said, and started the voicemail.

    Instead of meeting the usual sound of light crying as I had expected, the man spoke in a normal voice. Though it seemed to be his casual voice, there was still something there. A sadness that filled his words, impossible not to notice.

     “Hey, Jessica. As you might know, today’s my birthday. I’m finally 23. It’s also been exactly six months since Yellow-Eyes killed you.” The voice paused for a moment as the man on the other end let out a tiny, miserable laugh. “Life has a bit of a messed up sense of humor, doesn’t it? We finally got a call from Dad. He told us to stop looking for him, but I know Dean. He’s not going to stop looking until we find him.”

     He stopped talking again, letting the statement hang in the air as he thought of what to say next. “On the brighter side of things, Dean and I are getting along pretty well. We’ve been pranking each other a lot.” He let out another laugh, but this time it was genuine. “We went to a bar not too long ago. When he was in the bathroom, I put superglue on the side of his beer. He never saw it coming. I'm pretty sure I've started a pranking war between us.”

     I smiled at the last part. ‘I’m glad he’s finally finding happiness after what happened to his girlfriend. I hope it stays that way for him.’

     “I miss you, Jess. I miss you so damn much. I haven’t gotten used to you being gone. I’m getting used to not getting phone calls from you. I’m getting used to not being able to smell your perfume on my clothes that you liked to wear on lazy days. But I’ll never get used to you being gone.” His voice grew sad again as he got lost in old memories of him and his deceased girlfriend. “I was going to ask you to marry me, you know. It would’ve been amazing to be able to call you my wife. I wanted to ask you as soon as I heard about my interview at the law school. I would have, but I couldn’t find a ring that was special enough to give to you.” He let out a deep sigh that made me feel as though the place where my heart should be was just an empty cavity.

     “I’m sorry. I have to go, Jess. Dean found another case a couple of days out from here. We’re going to pack up and head out. I’ll talk to you later, babe. I love you.”

     The voicemail ended with a beep, and I clicked save. ‘He was going to ask the woman to marry him. He wanted to have a life with her, but whatever killed Jessica snatched those dreams away from him. He mentioned something about a case. What are they, detectives? And what the hell is Yellow-Eyes?’

     I shook my head at myself and sighed. I turned my lamp off and pulled the blanket up to my neck, resting my head on the pillow. I tried pushing those thoughts to the back of my mind, but my brain was already too active to fall back asleep. I turned my lamp back on and went to sit at my desk.

     I sat down and pulled out one of my many sketchbooks. I leaned back in my chair, looking at the stars behind the glass of my bedroom window. Realizing I hadn’t looked at the stars in ages, I decided I wanted to get a better look at them. I grabbed a couple of things I would need to make a good drawing, my jacket, and my phone. Then, I slipped out of my room, careful to make as little noise as possible. I made my way to the back door, trying to stay completely silent.

     I was a few feet away from the door when I stepped on a creaky floorboard. It let out a groan from my weight, and I froze in place. I winced, praying that my dad’s snores were too loud for him to hear over. I held my breath, straining my ears to hear any noise that might be coming from my dad’s room.

     After a moment, I could make out the faint snores of my sleeping father. I let out a sigh of relief and crept forward, finally making it to the wooden back door. I unlocked the door and opened it enough so that I could slip out into the quiet May night. 

     I made my way over to the ladder attached to the side of the house and climbed onto the roof using one hand. Once I had made it to the middle of the roof. I sat down and placed my stuff next to me, taking special care to make sure my pens and pencils didn’t roll off the edge.

     I leaned backward, resting my back on the hard shingles of the roof, putting my hands by my sides. Tilting my head back as a breeze came by, the cool air gliding across my skin, I stared up at the sky. My eyes searched the dark void, trying to identify the different constellations.

     Our house, which is more like a big cabin, is far away from everything, resting in the middle of a massive piece of land. Because of that, there wasn’t a lot of light pollution to block out the bright stars of the night.

     As I looked up at the stars, taking in their ancient light, I realized that they weren’t the colors I thought they were. They weren’t white and yellow like I had always believed. Instead, they were blue and orange and red. ‘I know what I’m going to draw.’

     I sat up, picking up my sketchbook, and opening it to the next blank page. I began by coloring the entire background in a deep navy blue blended with black making it look like the night sky. Then, I used my white gel pen to create a pattern of stars that resembled a woman standing in a fire.

     With my lightest touch and a white colored pencil, I created faint lines connecting the stars. Together, they formed the silhouette of a woman standing among flames. It wasn't easy to see the white lines, but you could still make out what the image was.

     To top it off, I used my other colored pencils to shade in the color of the stars. The ones that made up the fire were yellow, orange, and red, while the ones shaded light blue created the woman's form.

     When I finally set my blue pencil down, my back and neck were sore from hunching over, but I completed the artwork. I packed up my supplies, taking a last look at my newest piece of art before closing my sketchbook.

     Leaning back against the roof, I looked up at the stars once more. Folding my hands behind my head, I imagined I could see the burning woman on the inky background of the night sky. The thought of something I created shining in the black-and-blue abyss for everyone to see was enough to make me smile.

     Lost in the peaceful moment, I could feel a tide of emotion building inside of me—love, happiness, calmness, peace. 

     The feeling shattered in an instant as the snap of a stick echoed from the woods.

     I sucked in a breath, my head snapping towards the direction of the sound. I squinted and strained my eyes, trying to make out what had caused the noise. Through the whole process, I was mentally cursing myself for not bringing my knife.

     Sitting stock-still, I waited for another moment to see if anything would happen. When nothing did, I gathered my things in my arms and made my way back down the ladder.

     Easing open the door, I was unable to lose my feeling of apprehension. I shook my head at myself. ‘It’s nothing, Ash. You’re being stupid. It’s the forest. It was an animal, nothing more.’

     But the moon was cold. The pale light bathing the earth no longer granted the feeling of safety it held earlier. The forest that had once offered a safe place was laughing at me, taunting me. I felt as though I was being watched. Watched by something that took everything safe and calming about my home away from me.

[paperdoe]

Heritage (1/2)

The howls of terrified wolf men and their wolves echoed off the slopes of Emyn Uial. In pursuit a group of adventurers leapt over rocks, shrubs, and the bodies of fallen wolf men as they drove out the last of their quarry from the lower foothills. Amid this group lumbered a huge, blonde furred bear. His roaring splitting the crisp cool air, drowning out the cries of the wolf men. As a boulder that tumbles down from a mountain, he crashed through the forest floor as he gave the enemy chase, hardly aware of his allies around him. With four legs pumping hard, he easily caught up to a straggling wolf man, also known as Gauredain. Rhygeir flashed a broad paw out to sweep the man's legs out from under him. The Gauredan stumbled violently in his momentum. Terrified, he rolled onto his back to face his attacker, a fatal mistake. Snarling, Rhygeir reared up, towering over his hapless victim, ready to bring down his full weight in a killing move. 

                           An arrow flew into his vision, striking through the mans neck, killing him instantly. Rhygeir paused, confused at the sight of the now dead body before him. Slowly, he brought his forepaws back to the earth. Familiar faces barged past him. His animalistic mind took note of the gleaming hair of the elves, the familiar scent of another bear accompanied by a woman with a long staff, bright flame launching from her hands. A stouter figure stopped to pull her arrow free from Rhygeir’s would be kill, wiping it clean with a rag. 

“Wasn't interested in seeing another gruesome mauling.” Zyta said impassively, quickly running after the rest of the party. Rhygeir merely stared after her. Slowly, the rolling rage he felt earlier began to ebb. He felt as though his insides were rippling, folding in on themselves as his form changed to a man. But the battle wasn’t over yet. Gripping his axe firmly, Rhygeir charged up the slope to hurry after his party. 

---

The smell of blood was thick in his nose as Rhygeir surveyed the main camp of the Guaredain. A place of winding canyons and ravines that served as a suitable, natural fortress for the wolf men. Fierce depictions of their chosen animal motif towered above in the form of totems. He was aware of Gildirith, a high elf of old, stepping close beside him, gazing at the totems with revile. “Should we not tear them down?” She inquired, steely gray eyes looking to Rhygeir for confirmation. Rhygeir nodded. “It may as well be done. To discourage other packs from moving back in, if nothing else.” Gildirith nodded. “The wolf men bore torches, they could still be useful.” Rhygeir heard her call for their runekeeper as she walked away from him. “Envorith! Have the fires from your runestones been spent?” 

Rhygeir gazed back at his companions. There was Navoras; another high elf, sitting atop a tree stump, wiping his long blade clean of blood. Zyta and Elanswith helped the other elves in burning down the totems, though Elanswith had her own methods. Flinging burning embers and sticky gourds to help reduce them to cinders. Rhygeir wandered over to the totem burning party, prying a torch that was held fast in the grip of a dead wolf man. Had he been aiming to use it as a weapon? Rhygeir grunted as he wrested the torch free. Nearby, Envorith had created a decent flame in one of the Guaredains crude pyres. With his torch alight, he headed deeper into the canyon than his friends, all senses on high alert for any remaining Guaredain that may have been hiding, or any who were coming back from some vile venture. 

Rhygeir turned a sharp corner of a rocky wall, freezing as he caught sight of a rather monstrous looking totem, bigger and fiercer looking than the smaller ones he had seen. The painted eyes glared at him with burning hatred, claws stabbing outward, looking as if the wolves depicted might leap out with their sharp teeth gnashing as they came for Rhygeir. Grumbling at his reaction, Rhygeir stalked over to the ghastly thing. The flames from his torch licked at the wood, then spread. Stepping back, he watched as the totem sizzled and splintered from the fire. Fatigue suddenly swamped Rhygeir, and he tiredly rubbed his temples. The Gauredain had been a troublesome foe ever since they had stepped into Emyn Uial. Perhaps the elves and tree herders of the Eavespires could be left alone in peace now. 

The sun was about to set, The skin changer turned around, ready to head back down the canyon to find his friends. A shadow moved just then in his peripheral. A familiar rancid scent flooding his nose. Wolf!

Growling, Rhygeir whirled around to face it. He could see a figure hidden in the shade of a rocky overhang. But this was no wolf he had ever seen before. A huge beast, the black fur on its neck long and spiky,. At least thrice bigger than other wolves. A warg? Rhygeir didn’t think it looked like one, as it’s features were more wolf-like. But it was the beast's eyes that gave him pause. They looked intelligent. Almost too intelligent. As if the soul of something else gazed back. It’s poise and expression was one of lazy curiosity rather than hostility. But it was a wolf nonetheless, creatures twisted by Sauron in the elder days to hunt the free peoples. Rhygeir roared a challenge, ready at any moment to transform, when the wolf’s form seemed to ripple, then shrink. Before his eyes the wolf had changed into the form of a man, his shoulders draped with heavy furs, face painted blue. Smiling toothily, the man leaped onto the short rock wall. He effortlessly clambered over ledges until he disappeared over the curve of the cliff, leaving a gaping, astonished Rhygeir.  

                                         A skin changer! But he was taught that skin changer forms could only assume that of a bear, and bears only. A desire to go after the beastly man burned in his heart, not from hatred, but for answers. 

 The distant calls from his company drew him back to the task at hand, albeit reluctantly. After a glance at the place where the skin changer vanished, he hurried down the canyon to rejoin his friends. 

---

The moon climbed high over the ebony sky. His light bathing the Eavespires in a silvery glow. Rhygeir and company had returned late in the evening. Bloodied and tired, they were receptive to the resident elves' care and gratitude for helping to stop the threat of the Guaredain. Most of them slept now, save for Rhygeir and Zyta. Did the dwarf never sleep? It seemed as if she was always on guard during the nights. She sat upon a high rock, watching Lake Evendim. Rhygeir sat atop a log that bordered a stream feeding into the lake, flicking pebbles into it now and again as his mind became lost in thought. In particular, thoughts of the skin changer he had seen. 

                                             Who was that man? Was he truly a fellow skin changer? Or some trick of black sorcery conjured by Angmar? By Sauron himself? Rhygeir began to think of the origins of his people. It was never really talked about before. Tales of the beornings history droned on and on over the great feast fires of the Beorningus in his memory. There were always plenty of tales about his people becoming captives of the orcs of Gundabad. Of the famous Beorn, who met with the fabled company of Thorin Oakenshield. But strangely, there seemed to be nothing before those events...Perhaps it was lost history. 

Rhygeir lifted his head, russet colored eyes studying the constellations in the sky. 

Where had his people come from? 

A low, long howl sounded off in the distance, startling him into a standing position. But the howl was very far off. He could see Zyta on alert as well, an arrow already nocked to the bowstring. The sound started again, echoing off the valley towards the lake below. To Rhygeir’s curiosity, he felt as if the howl were...beckoning. Drawing him forwards into the wild. He shook his head, trying to banish the thoughts, But the feelings persisted. Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to check it out...If only to kill the thing and bring himself a sense of peace. 

Being quiet so as not to disturb his companions, he quickly returned to the main camp to grab his axe, giving his company a once over before returning to the stream. Slowly, he began to wade into the slow moving water. 

“Going for a stroll?”

Rhygeir stopped, completely forgetting that Zyta had been watching the wilds too for a minute in his focus on the howling. “I’m going to investigate the howl.” He replied sternly. 

To his annoyance Zyta hopped off the rock she had been on, looking as if she was preparing herself to wade across the stream too. “Well. Could use some help perhaps.” 

“No!” 

Zyta halted, brows furrowed in confusion at his bark. “No? Don’t value the help of your company?” She bit back. 

“No no, It’s just-” He sighed, stroking the hilt of his axe. “Forgive me. It’s been a trying day, and I could use some time alone.” 

Still not looking convinced, Zyta gazed at him with shrewd eyes for what seemed like minutes. Rhygeir huffed. “I won’t charge into an enemy camp, if that’s what you’re worried about.” 

Zyta shrugged, seeming to get Rhygeir’s message, to his relief. “If you’re not back within half an hour, I’ll come looking.” She murmured, turning her back to return to her watch post. Rhygeir felt guilt jab at his heart. The Stout Axe had always been on the fringes of the group it seemed, and Rhygeir wondered if she felt like she truly belonged. He hoped that she didn’t feel as if he were invalidating her as a valuable member, which she was. 

But she, nor his other friends, couldn’t possibly understand why he felt as if needed to undertake this alone. It was part of a world they weren’t privy to. Resolved, Rhygeir strode into the forest, following the call of the howl. 

---

The air was eerily still as the night wore on. No breeze stirred the flora. No birds twittered above. The only sounds Rhygeir could hear were the chirping of crickets and the lapping of waves from the lake. But even those sounded distant. The howling had stopped a long time ago. His only point of reference was the general direction in which he heard it at first, which was northward. 

                      He was beginning to feel a little silly by now for following the howl of what might as well have been a regular wolf. Perhaps it was time to turn back anyway. 

“So you came!”

[lovehaswonangelnumbers]

New Post has been published on https://lovehaswonangelnumbers.org/november-2019-energy-report/

November 2019 Energy Report

November 2019 Energy Report

By A Gift From Gaia

Translating the recent codes we have been receiving has given a super expansive view of how the month of November and the following months are going to unfold and to say we are about to receive more light than ever before would on the one hand be obvious, we are of course evolving which means we exist within an ever increasing spiral of love, but on the other hand I am aware there will be many hitting the WOW frequencies, how that wow transpires of course is dependent on your current octave and what mirrors are required to be seen, I love witnessing the wow spectrum, the low octaves are a “wow, are you serious” as freak twists and turns appear and then there are those who experience the wow frequency in the higher octaves as they begin to see what they perceive as more aligned experiences coming forward, and once the wow spectrum has been spent we move into the “ah yes” space where there is zero reaction as we flow in a peaceful joyous frequency and we respond, through choice.

I spent many years of the awakening in the WOW spectrum and would always jump in, led by dreams and what I believed to be guidance however I realise now it was resonance to my true frequency, the core frequency, the frequency that hides behind ALL and anchors the beliefs and programming firmly in, which is always different to the frequency we THINK ourselves in, but this vast spectrum and the many years spent here has taught a lot, it shares the keys to attachments and it shares the keys to understanding the language of the body and for this half life experience we are so grateful as the realisation and release creates an expansion in our field, an expansion I am to share within the SOUL-AR Alignment Course as the Key is about to be birthed.

Birthing is something we can expect to be experiencing this month, galactic light babies are ready, the contractions have started and many of you who have been focused on the light path may well be experiencing nesting, bloating and contractions, this is entirely normal, check in with the physical and see if there is any language coming up in the discomfort, in other words does it relate to the reality or the programming you are identifying/validating/releasing. When we have these experiences there is a vital key, unconscious thinking will get disgruntled with the uncomfortableness, the conscious being will take the self love to a deeper level and provide the perfect space and environment for the birth/release, this process is the same when we move through the clearing phases, there must be no defense and no judgement of the symbolic messages the body shows/speaks, we also stop using words of suffering and sickness and we fully align to releases, purges, or perhaps its new conversation as you learn to understand, pay attention and action the requests of the body.

With the ever increasing light this month we often experience heaviness and restriction which is often perceived as pain, especially in those, like myself, who continue to do when I know I need to be, even when we reach peaceful, restful, attentive states of awareness there is still more to learn, more fine tuning and you may notice the stress points getting busy, jaw, head, neck, shoulders and stomach act like big batteries that store the tension, and the tension as I said will only be your resistance to the light speed, that’s the thing, as everything speeds up we must learn to slow down the physical, even though the energy will be coursing through, ok so slow down isn’t the right words here, although it is, I feel soften is a better way to describe the surf.

That’s the thing, November is going to be a mixed bag, enough to get many more waking up to how this actually works and seeking out lighthouses with the brightest lights and the safest passage and the first couple of weeks are likely to be the most transformational as we are surfing through the new moon opposing Uranus energies and adding to this all changing energy we now move into a Mars square Pluto stream, which acts like the rubber stamp…..ENTRY – NO ENTRY.

But of course there is always entry, there are the new energy portals we can enter and then there are the looping ones that always look different until you learn to see the patterns and programming, until you are able to own the true frequency, knowing that what will be attracted will be the mirror until the patterns are learned and even with these phases many say well I must need to mirror to attract the mirror and the answer to that is, no, that too is self sacrificing and holds no point, you see once you are aware of the programming and once you understand what is a conscious choice and what is an unconscious choice, where you are being led into peace, joy and a carefree space or where you are exploding in excitement, need, want, and holding the “if I do this” expectation malarkey, then the need for mirrors becomes an unconscious choice, and whilst this may sound complicated its actually so very simple, the first sacred field you enter is that of peace, utter peace, and nothing but peace…..find it.

Patience is something that is becoming topical, patience is a virtue they say, many people pride themselves on being patient but this word needs a little more investigation because patience can also be attachment and expectation, it can also be linked in with enabling and avoidance. Patience with self, that’s a given, however there is often a root into the ego and self avoidance or enabling, slowing the process down unnecessarily highlights the fear of change, the key here is to keep the flow, we are under heavy Capricorn energies, powered by Saturn, our Lord of Time, and he teaches FLOW, his highest octave is Divine Time and he requests we keep this show on the road, nice and steady, progression, and as I keep saying THINK GOAT, tiny goat steps up this steep mountain face we are climbing. Patience out there, well that needs some looking at, lets not forget to wait is to weight and to try again is to lie again and all of this will be felt as the light speed increases, some request to experience Life Force at full speed, I certainly did as the resistance I held to love was huge, of course I was unaware, like most I had been programmed to experience attachment as love and it was a seed grown from lack, it’s a story we all hold and it’s the story we are all erasing, some wake up and complete the process in this lifetime and all else continues the loop until it awakens or is purged by the planet itself, but that’s a whole different conversation.

The Pluto and Mars square will have the wise ready and prepared to release or scrap the old, this could well be a going back to the drawing board energy especially with Mercury in Retrograde however if this is the wave you surf hold these words within, with every wave there is a ripple, a crest and then the most beautiful part when it returns back to the All, meaning there is a process and the quicker this is realised the sooner the reality will provide its reward, let it go, let it transform and watch what comes next, and with these energies intensifying it could well appear as shocking, highlighting the attachment through the high emotional reaction, the moment it enters allow it to dissolve, hold trust, stay patient with self and experience the emotional release and all the data it holds and watch how it evolves into something so much more purposeful, if this materialises as the deprogramming of attachment you may be thinking and feeling some incredible depths but hold the trust, bliss exists in detachment, peace resides in the fields of acceptance and love will grow widely when you ensure the soil is PH Aligned.

If we take the focus that the first half of November will be much adjusting, allowing, accepting, learning to adapt to the frequencies at super fast rates, then the galactic babies we are about to birth by mid to end of the month are going to be big, bouncy and incredibly healthy and this is the magic within this month, in fact I would highly suggest we move the holiday season to the last two weeks of November, take note of this because come December 25th and the eclipses you will no doubt be surfing the WOW spectrum I mentioned earlier, there is going to be so much coming up, attachments, expectations, HUGE insights to prepare for the Tsunami Surf Event of 2020.

This month requires the focus, requires the understanding of how this is all working and fully aligning.

The codes from our Galactic Future Self are entering through the portal that Jupiter is now opening, we begin this year as he passes the galactic centre according to tropical astrology and we receive the highest of octaves next year as he then travels through the constellation of Sagittarius according to Sidereal astrology. As Sagittarius is his home sign this makes this a super happy galactic return to Jupiter, the planet of reward, luck, expansion and he propels from within us the opportunity to spread our wings further and wider, he is the planet of MORE and again there are of course octaves, so perhaps make the use of the time and be more proactive otherwise we could perhaps see the spread appear more like a midriff muffin, laziness is a lower octave mirror.

Asides from the fun, this is again important work, and this requires focus, as I mentioned in a recent report Mercury in Retrograde is playing around in the field next door, he is going to be shouting some controversial comments over the hedge, things that are likely to bring in some self doubt, a pull back to the old ways, letting dreams slip by for another trip on the loop, but if you look closely you are going to see his tongue in cheek. The Galactic Codes are being channelled through our inner Jupiter, then Venus activates in a conjunction, this is pure Divine Galactic Love, this is creation energy, this is your green light to go and Mercury will support you, you will find, hear, receive the inner communication, your inner Mercury will begin to show what it is like to truly align to that inner voice and we are opened wide, more wide than before and we create the next level to the NewBuild we have been working on.

This month is set to be a wonderful transition and the guidance is to embrace everything that comes into your field, the incoming galactic energies hold purpose and to not hold the respect for this would be pure ignorance to the Ancient Future Self, the Unified version of you, being me, being Us as One. Take Self into the most softest spaces, allow the sensitivity to heighten and pay attention to the touch, taste, smell, sight and sound and notice how it feels, peace is the path, excitement or nervousness is the mirror, connect with the body and listen clearly to its needs and wants and realise where it is addicted to out there and return to those spaces and fill it with your loving energy, finding new ways to support those neglected areas and allowing the attachments to dissolve. Jupiter will bring forward a huge influx of light and we now prepare using the transformative energies of Pluto that begin this month, the physical body vibration must be priority and for every release mentally there too must be a physical upgrade which will require underpinning until the new has stabilised, this pattern of expansion takes effort at first but because the codes are that of unconditional love, unconditional doing for self, they stabilise quickly and become the new version or experience, understanding and aligning to how this works is necessary to stop the learning how this works which is a looping effect, why learn something that is already in the awareness, it holds no purpose.

I will connect in with you all as we shift and expand, and this month will hold some super cool tools for me to share with you all. Stay tunes for Big News!

Please place a heart in the comments to help keep the heart beat of A Gift from Gaia pumping in the body of Facebook.

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[madiletio]

Little Wonders | Ch.1: “Always” word count: 1409

Summary: It was almost as if the universe enjoyed watching them break apart, broken and incomplete. It was as if all of this was one big game that never ended. A game they were always losing. But Lance was going to fight like hell to see her again. to see both of them.aka the angsty kidfic no one asked for.

Sunlight started to shine through the curtains and onto Lance’s face, slowly waking him up. Groaning, he rolled over and snuggled into Katie, pulling her close to him. He had never been a morning person, but waking up next to her was completely worth it.

It had all been worth it.

When the war had ended for good, everyone was dealing with their own trauma in different ways. Group therapy was mandatory and although it did help from time to time, some of them still had a long way to go. Hunk threw himself into countless projects, hardly breaking away from his work unless he absolutely had to. Shiro would still train some nights, when the nightmares from everything he had endured were too much to block out.

And Lance? He was falling into the deep end rapidly. He became so quiet it would be hard to get him to say anything. He couldn’t focus on anything or anyone. Anxiety would claw at him constantly and he was a mess.

Then one night, Pidge walked into his bedroom and told him to follow her.

The Garrison had made them lock away their lions for months on end. Their counter argument was that it would help the paladins heal. But in truth, it was doing the complete opposite to them.  

Pidge had led him to their lions’ bay and unlocked it within seconds.

“What are you doing?”

She had grinned up at him, giving him the same grin she gave the team whenever she was successful in hacking a system or a ship. It now sent chills down his spine.

“We’re going flying Lance.”

Flying became both of their coping mechanisms, even though they got disapproval from many Garrison officials. But at the end of the day, they hadn’t been through all the shit they had.

They didn’t have a  clue .

Slowly but steadily, Lance found himself becoming more relaxed and calm. The anxiety was still there, but it wasn’t as bad as it once had been.

Little did he know how badly he was falling for her.

The realization had hit him one night when they sat in Green’s hanger. She had been working on a small robot, completely focused on rewiring it and he felt his heart race.

Without giving it a second thought, he walked up to her and kissed her. Of course, he was mentally kicking himself for it, but when he went to pull away, she pulled him back.

That had been three years ago.

He heard a small yawn and smiled softly. A few seconds later, she had turned around to face him, amber eyes searching his and caramel curls sticking up in every direction.

He would never get tired of waking up to this. To her.

"Morning, beautiful.”

She gave him a sleepy smile and snuggled closer into him, closing any remaining distance between them. He kissed her on the forehead gently.

“Sleep well?” he whispered into her hair.

She hummed in contentment before lifting her head up to kiss him.

Soft lips met chapped and Lance was convinced she was going to be the death of him.

Her lips lingered on his before pulling away completely.

And even though it was short and sweet, it still managed make both of their hearts race.

They had stayed like that for a moment longer; intertwined with each other, sharing lazy kisses before Blue scratched at the bedroom door, signalling it was time to get up.

“Your cat is high maintenance.”

Lance faked a look of hurt as he walked over to the white Persian cat and scooped her up. He held her as if she was an actual baby.

“Don’t say that in front of our child! She's sensitive!” He kissed the top of the cats fluffy head. “Isn’t that right princess?”

Katie rolled her eyes and walked by him, not acknowledging the cat on her way out.

Lance watched as she left the room, making sure she had gone into the bathroom before placing Blue back on the ground and hurried over to his bedside table, a feeling of relief washing over him as he opened the draw and saw the velvet ring box still in its place.

A feeling of nervousness washed over him as he changed quickly into his jeans and white shirt, before taking the box and placing it in his jacket’s pocket.

He had been planning it out for awhile now and he was finally going to do it. He was going to propose to her.

Chances were that sooner or later, they will be called back into action.  He wasn’t going to risk it. He was going to do it before it was too late.

Once the Castle of Lions was rebuilt for the paladins, there was a discussion that went on for multiple days on whether Voltron was in fact needed anymore. The Galaxy Garrison wanted to keep them grounded, while the alien races wanted to see Voltron take to the sky again.  After countless arguments and hours spent trying to find a solution, everyone had come to an agreement.

The paladins would still be active with the exception that no more than two were sent into space at a time. The others were to stay on Earth, with the agreement that they would have full access to their lions.  

It was a compromise everyone was fully comfortable with.

Hunk and Keith had been stationed at the castle for a little over a month now and after the millionth blank message that was intercepted, they were starting to feel a little stir crazy.

“Sooo Keith, anything exciting happening on your end of the ship?”  Hunk asked awkwardly, uncomfortable with the silence in the room.

Keith simply shrugged at the question and took another sip of his coffee, bored out of his mind.

Of course, they understood the roles and responsibilities, but at the end of the day, after looking at empty messages for countless hours, they would get a little bored.

As Hunk was about to break the silence yet again, a red error message appeared on the castle’s screens, catching their attention immediately.

“Alright Hunk! Finally some action! “ Keith said while cracking his knuckles.

Turning around, Hunk pulled up the message onto his console, typing away furiously, trying to find it’s source. It only took a matter of seconds however, and when the identity of the source popped up in bold letters on the screen, he felt himself become physically ill.

“Keith...call Allura immediately.”

He nodded and called for Allura over the comms, before making his way over to Hunk.

“What’s going on?”

Hunk pointed towards the photo of an alien standing in lava as if it was merely water. A look of complete evil was plastered on the face and it made their skin crawl.

Keith sucked in a breath. “Is that-?”

“Yeah.” Hunk said monotone. “I’m going to contact Lance.”

Millions of stars could be seen for miles on end from their garden where they walked in comfortable silence.

Pidge had been completely awestruck by all the constellations that could be seen, while Lance was beyond nervous. It was now or never.

Taking her hand in his, he stopped her in her tracks. Pidge turned to look at him, curiosity and wonder clear in her eyes, sending chills down his spine within seconds.

“Katie.” He whispered hoarsely, taking both of her hands in his. “I love you.”

She smiled softly at him “ I love you too, Lance.”

This is it.  He thought.  Now or never .

Taking his hands from hers, he slowly started to go down one knee, while pulling the ring box out of his pocket.

Pidge had tears in her eyes already.

“I know we are still young and got a lot of growing up to do, but honestly? I don’t think I can do it without you.” His chest felt tight.

"Out of all the shit this entire universe has given us, I’ll forever be grateful for it bringing us together. We have had countless adventures together and I want that to continue. Forever.”

They were both crying.

“So, Katie Holt. Will you do me the utmost honor and marry me?”

The ring was a simple silver band with a small emerald in the center. It wasn’t anything fancy or over the top, but it was very her.

Pidge nodded, wiping away her tears, before holding out her hand.

“Always.”

[jeffersoneverestcrawford]

July 25 - August 10

July 25

Evening

Two deer in the field, their movements spread out in the limpid air like points on unmarked paper. A lone woodpecker, finding its daily foibles in the trunk nearest me. Sharp sounds still fill the air even as a sense of peace descends, dogs nervous, in apparent fright at being left alone, trucks in reverse, preparing to dump whatever load they might have. Daily movements become more and more noticeable in far off places. The ways the world works upon us can come to us simply or not at all. Feeling an embrace of simplicity after seeing the ‘theatrum mundi’ of the bread + puppet theater. Ideas and practices shaped as a city, as a stateless statement, the stage of unparalleled intentions.

A dog still barks incessantly

She returns with the horses

Wetting them on the grass

Allowing the clouds to change

To cool shallow

Peaks, a day

is Lost amongst intentions

July 26

Morning

I’ve seen a fox in the cemetery. Conversing or conniving, convivial, concisely. Stepping out over raspberries floating on sugar. Now stepping double on crunching branches ward off lazy bears, absorbed full of whole bushes, likely wandering in sleep. Grasshoppers make like heavy fat raindrops on the field grass as I cross it along a finely strung cow path, headed once more for the trees. A mushroom, so perfect red and dappled yellow, with the sheen of an egg, a rare wondrous egg, a treasure. Two, appearing in the dead leaves, appearing alone. Now a small family of toad stools. They radiate a joy in the yet un-illuminated wood, the afternoon sun will join and and rejoice. Finally, the wonder-est of all, a Taj Mahal in miniature, ochre and plum. Ripe for an expulsion of evil, yet marked for an evil consumption. Those who consume shall be consumed themselves by evil, soon to be consumers of evil!! The way I had walked before is an older way, the way I walk now, the new way, begins and ends anew, so I continue. The stanchion or trust of the tall power line columns is a monument of the daily. You might gaze upon it and reflect the balance of the world. All that is designed, weighted, counterpoised - all natural, all in concord. That which aims to dis-coordinate is also welcome, a part of the balance, met with forces which further coordinate, leveling the stasis and balance once more. We have both forces on our faces and our hands. The cicada sleeps by the creaking of wood. Voyager on distant dream travels, Ahab. One of the many lumbering beast lurks silent in the wood. This is the past, you are the future, and really Nothing is the present. Just atmosphere. Even this comes to us from the past, shaped by the future. The past and the future are often in cahoots; in the present, we feel trapped. Not only invisible cities but entire imagined empires prosper in the backwater minds of America, particularly the backwaters of the past. How shocking to come to understand that these cities were not invisible, but stood in the eyes and minds of a true and living empire, that these were empires fair and static and were in natural, balanced life manifest. That Thoreau saw and sensed these yet misplaced their creation is a shame. Cathedrals did rise on the Mississippi, the Ohio, perhaps even the Connecticut. Surely they shone like crystal palaces in the sun, glistening even as their foundations were rotted or poisoned. Englishmen, purveyors of few true cathedrals themselves, and not to erect anything of magnitude or worth here for generations sow the disuse which crumbled those wonderous meditative places (for surely those gemlike haunts were palaces of the mind as well as body). Perhaps all that remains of them is sense, or else ‘monuments of the daily,’ which all around us reflect the nature of these peaceable cities as eternal stasis, and refract our complicit tragedy as the shadow of progress. A loss for all, past and future. Old trees, traces of grandeur, stand in these woods like these cities, tall, leading into heaven beyond, yet rotting from the earth. We can work to re-verse the poetics of the past. When I prepare a recording I feel as if I kneel to pray before an object, a deep cellar hole, a field penned in by air, stone fences; a large granite block appears to be the threshold of this ancient home, invisible in memoriam. Constantly there is the way the road goes and the way the road once went - this is the present, in which the future is the past. We can walk both roads here. Across the field I stay to the trail as much as possible, for fear of disrupting the bees at their diligence. A brush fire smolders when I reach the pond. A trace of change. Several cellars line the road, trace of those that made their lives here on the outskirts of town. At this wall of water I feel even more as if I might pray, thankful for light and for ceaseless stream of life. The valley extends from here, from this point, spilling over the edge into something, from Nothing. The light upon the wall the map to the stars, of future, of mortal restlessness. We chart our own journey to the heavens, following the constellations of mythos, muthos, and mother.

Evening

Why the woman’s dog barks at me I can’t know. Hanging up my laundry it is still stained with dirt, spots where I knelt. The movement of the clothesline is like a gentle prayer to the red barn, the wind which waves it revealing messages, not in their entirety, but still revealing them - daily glimpses of the ineffable, which we all know but seldom touch. The light now somewhat refuses to be beautiful, at least in to classical romantic knowledge, instead it coats everything in warmth, which is more familiar and very comfortable. The contours of the house become particular to this hour as if it becomes a new house several times a day. Or a never ceasing re-arrangement of lines, shades, and surfaces. The bare essence of a house is a flat shingle board rubbed of paint; lines, shades, and surfaces. A prayer is also the essential, plain, and bare - and often rubbed thin by use and disuse. The use of a prayer is what comprises its life, and its meaning. That a prayer exists in the form of drying socks is unimportant, that the dying socks are praying is. As they pray for the line which supports them, the barn from which the line hangs, and this breeze which dries it - we pray for that which is around us, which we are suspended in - erecting monuments of the daily.

July 27

Morning

Death sits on hills above the village.

In memory of

Lucy Daughte

to Lieut Ezra

& Mrs. Huldah

Gilbert Died

Octbr 2d 1794

In Her 3 Year

I’ll move from this spot as if in a dream, as if I am dreaming. We must have to manufacture our own grace. The air is thick today I can hardly breath, my shirtsleeves rolled stiff with sweat - as I walk up Carpenter hill. I feel submerged, surrounded by sensations I cannot attribute. Calfs startle as I walk, the cows flinching only slightly, shifting hordes of flies from their shoulders in jittery moves. Several voice concern. I continue. Finished walking, I set my feet in the river, happy to have cool water run over them. A lone beaver dives down, grasping a branch. It then clambers over the bank to return minutes later grasping another branch. Minnows examine my feet, fleshy and gaunt with exertion. Seeing the world in reflection I feel as I were stepping out onto an abyss, but that which is the sky inverted, brought down to earth. The heavens at our feet. A ripple breaks the surface and like a split mirror becomes a trap door, our vision sinks deeper into the earth itself, our span to the sky now quadrupled. There is gratitude in this transference, both in dreaming we step in light and in being roused from the dream, sent down to the earth. There is safety and longing in both. All feet make landfall one day, so too all rise to the light. Waiting is our one true solitude.

Evening

Waiting until the day is entirely blue so that my feel seem in league with my hands, a reflecting pool of action. When the day is long I feel more restless and yet itching for a rest. Too much is spent on having good ideas, not enough on the having itself. I never find the way to describe this hour. It might be like resting on the lip of a candle gone out, its wick just now expired, light still lingering momentarily from the flame. A sense of descent but also of buoyancy. Life feels stretched out, drawn along intersecting lines, vibrating the mesh. Still I feel I cannot begin to place the sensation which seeps into me at this hour. This all makes me think of places I have seen in half, in relief which reduces its form yet multiplies its possibilities. An arching piece of land tucked away in my memory, resting on some turn of some childhood road - only ever glimpsed in passing, often quietly, mid-exclamation or deep in private thought, which, wedged in between homes, shares almost no space with the infinite but still suggests endless exploration. It is an irony of childhood not lost on the adult. To feel experiences utterly new lurks around familiar corners. That it is sometimes to discover that brings draws shut the curtain of limitation. Stretches unexplored and sensations unexplained allow our experience the true balance of consciousness. Otherwise we might simply be bowling balls, rolling to new areas of shifted weight.

July 28

Morning

Rain, a deer grazing fresh grass. Without stepping out of doors each morning, I feel I’ve hardly stepped out of bed. So then I read, stepping out of doors, in bed. I believe that writing is hardly a communication of the explainable. I find it more a collecting of attempted gestures, designed to evoke the inexplicable. I would like to see the river now, see how its small stones turned, rolled together into one idea, the fickle become grandiose. Stringing words in a line, an arrangement, transfers them into gesture, action. Contained somewhere in this action is a way to understanding all other actions. An arrangement of words is not intended to communicate something to you, but to communicate with you. It is the process which interacts with you, as in magick, or dance - inducing a state other than the daily, or even the ‘hyper-daily.’ Suddenly you feel as if aware of each movement of the day, as if each seldom seen instance plays out alone, a passage an an infinite symphony.

August 10

Evening

Days away from my notebook have been in truth painful. I go out of doors into rising fog through which a sky glows cream orange and pink, the river a mere trickle. The world is diffused heavily in this light. It feels soft to touch, dew licking off my fingers. A bank of clouds is descending onto our heads yet none are frightened. The stone crashed upon our heads earlier and perhaps some were frightened. I was enlivened by the torrent. Feeling finally free to spurt out incensed ideas without landing. The three deer graze upon a far field, not to be bothered with my scribbles. A sound almost as if a blown flute, somewhere off beyond where I stand, even in the brush. A pied piper in the mist. The sky is cut, cut, cut in three places by bands of pink light, yet was cut, and is now fading to grey - the final dissolve. From this angle the house sits utterly hidden. The red barn is perhaps its prow, moving towards me glacially. The barn is itself hidden, occupying much more space inside than on the outside one might suspect. Its demeanor so simple one cannot begin to guess at all its contents. Domesticity moves to the invisible.

[soft-monstrosities]

The Dying Wold - The First Seeds

The sixth creator lay with it’s facing towards the wall of it’s den. Not that it mattered much, it could see the entire universe with it’s eyes shut, whether it wanted to or not. Still it was the principle of the thing as the child bustled around in it’s den. She seemed to be determined to stay, and what did it care if she did? She was not of the almost immortal and she was not a creator. Death would come for her soon enough. It would come for all of them soon enough. All the sixth creator had to do was wait. 

So wait the sixth creator did, ignoring the girl’s babbling as she set about the den. At first she simply cleaned up the floor and the walls and set up things needed to survive. A bed, a pot, a small place to store food she created from the energy of the lava. Then came small things. Shoes and clothing made from the stone outside. A backpack showed up, and was filled with material used to explore. There was a map created after the first few days, with a quill and ink. It wasn’t very well done, the sixth creator had seen billions upon billions of better maps. As for the girl herself, her use of magic often left her very tired, so she slept a lot for the first little while. 

Once she had created once she needed though, the girl set out exploring. For days at a time, she went out looking for something. The sixth creator tried it’s best to pretend it wasn’t keeping track of her comings and goings, but it was hard to ignore. Nobody had been in it’s den for a very long time, and no mortal had ever visited let alone had the audacity to claim it’s den as their home too. 

On one of the exploring trips, the girl got hurt. She burned herself on the lava and cried about it. It took her two weeks to heal from it, even with her magic. The sixth creator wondered during the first two days if it would kill her. It didn’t though, and the sixth creator firmly felt no emotion about that result. She was more careful on her trips after that. Still though, she went out, looking for something to hold onto. Some sort of hope. The sixth creator knew she would not find it here, but let her try anyways. It kept her out of it’s fur at the very least.

After a month or maybe a year the girl made herself something called chalk. At first it was only used to mark out the cave systems she was exploring, but after a little while she used it to draw a symbol on the walls of the den. Then another. Then another. Then she left on another trip. The sixth creator could see the symbols perfectly facing the wall, it could see anything anywhere. Yet for some reason that not even the creator of the universe could understand, it lifted it’s head and turned to look at the symbols. 

A flower from the girl’s home planet. Her favorite constellation she could no longer see and a spiral filled with decorations. It was the spiral that really caught the sixth creator’s attention. The first two were simply her longing for the familiar, understandable of a simple creature but the third... the third was not from her memories, it was not created to comfort her. It was created out of a want to create. The sixth creator turn it’s head back to the wall suddenly, not wanting to think about the symbols anymore. Perhaps it should remove the girl. It could send her anywhere in the universe or just remove her from it entirely. Maybe it would remove any memory or trace of her too, for daring to invade it’s den and disturb it’s rest.

The sixth creator didn’t though, it felt too much like letting her win somehow. Besides, why should it care if she wanted to create. Anything she made would crumble, just was the universe itself would. 

The girl came back after two more days. She was tired, but happy. Hopeful. Some misplaced sense of progress made. The sixth creator paid her slightly more attention this time, wondering if she might mention an attempt to leave. That was all it was listening for. That was it. Somehow, the sixth creator learned her name too.

Leela. 

The sixth creator decided that that was a silly name, but it accepted it nonetheless. Why should it care after all. 

Now the girl’s explorations kept her busy for longer. She was going further and further into the cave systems within the planet. Hoping that for some reason, deeper down she would find something. There was nothing to be found, but the sixth creator still said nothing. Let her hope. Let her waste her time away in caves that would yield nothing to her. 

When Leela was here, she had grown far more confident around the sixth creator. Before she had at least let it have it’s space and taken up as little room as she could. Now, on the days when she was here the child was usually leaning up against the sixth creator. Push into it’s fur as if it were a pillow. It was then that she noticed the cracks. They had formed when the sixth creator had lost it’s first and only real fight, running deep through it’s skin. Old wounds now, but ones that had never closed. They festered instead, bubbling like the lava outside. There was no force in this universe that could heal such wounds, and they were deep enough that back when the sixth creator had still had any kind of hope, it had to push against the pain constantly to even stand.

Now the sixth creator didn’t bother to try and stand. Now nothing hurt. Or at least, nothing had hurt until Leela had gently poked at the wounds. It didn’t hurt much, not even enough for them to flinch. She seemed to know anyways though, and she apologized. 

“I guess that’d be why you don’t like to move. Sorry for teasing you about being lazy.” 

The sixth creator didn’t care. It didn’t. Nor did it care when she was always very careful about leaning up against it, so as not to cause anymore hurt. Late on night, the sixth creator looked back upon it’s memories and realized this was the first time it had ever been apologized too. Silly that it’s only apology would come from a mortal in a dying universe. Not too long now, maybe a million years left at most. Things had already started to deteriorate. The girl would last maybe a thousand at most. 

Leela had been gone from the den for a long time now. Before she had left, she had told the sixth creator it might be quite a bit before she came back. That she was going to try to reach the core. As if it was meant to care or miss her. As if it couldn’t see everything she was doing anyways. Leela was deep in the caves now, scaling down further and further and looking for something she would never find. It was then that the sixth creator had a thought. Perhaps if it gave her something to find, she would leave. She would feel as if she had accomplished her goal and move on to the rest of the universe, so the sixth creator could watch it die in peace. 

The idea became more and more sensible as time went on. Clearly, this was a clean and easy solution. As the girl approached the deepest part of the cave system, it was the perfect time for it too. Now the only question was what should it give her to find. It couldn’t be anything too special or powerful, otherwise she might stay to look for more. Or she might try to use it to delay the death of the universe, which would just be annoying at this point. Not to mention the sixth creator was not sure how much power it could actually create anymore. It could not be too insignificant either though, or else she would not feel her task was done. Something in the middle, something to fulfill that idea of hope that she had. 

The sixth creator dug through memories and ideas, before finally it found the perfect answer. Seeds. The plants they would grow into were ones that it had created when it was so young and hopeful, they had grown on this planet a eternity ago, but nowhere else in the universe. The seeds would be easy to remake. Leela would feel as if she had found something important, and the sixth creator could even leave a message about needing to spread them. She would leave on her task and head out into the universe, completely unaware that it would be a failure. The sixth creator would have it’s peace back and soon enough the universe would be gone. 

It was harder then the sixth creator had thought to make the seeds, it had been so long after all, but it was done. A message scrawled on the wall of the deepest cave, and the seeds on a podium surrounded by lava. An old story, but an easy one to retell. Leela was delighted to find them, scaled across the lava and took the seeds triumphantly. The sixth creator was not proud, it was not happy to see her succeed. It felt only the relief of an annoyance that would surely be gone soon.

[lexuslamar]

From here to utopia

Well, I’m afraid that the circles I’ve been drinking myself in Aren’t big enough for the vowels that  I try to fit inside of them. When I was young, I drank too much, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel so goddamn young tonight. Maybe too young to ask what’s on my mind. Like if freedom means doing what I want, Well, don’t I gotta want something? And won’t you tell me that we want something more than just more beer? And my friends, if that ain’t true, won’t you lie to me tonight? Well, I’ve been listening to Minor Threat records all day, And shit if I do not know every word. I sing along as I tie off. And Ian screams he’s “Out of Step” As I throw the cotton into the spoon, draw up into the syringe. I’ll know just what he means until I hit a vein. But after that I won’t have to bother with knowing who I am, For a while at least. In a moment the whole world is gonna melt around me, And I’ll swear I don’t miss it as a I lie to you tonight. Because I’m afraid to look the world in the eye. If nothing’s gonna change, well, then I’d rather die. And I’m too unemployed to organize a union. I’m too intoxicated to tear down a building. I’m too hopeless to look for a solution, I’m afraid that if I found one, I’d be out of excuses for the way I waste away in the gutters that I chose, Like fashion accessories to go with my dirty clothes. I haven’t bathed in months, but you know it’s not because I’ve been fighting bourgeois morals, I’m just lazy and I’m young. I’ve seen the best minds of my generation Dying drunk or high from the rooftops to the parking lots, Stomped to death in west Philadelphian squats. They’ve got me waiting on a day when we can say “fuck the police!” With a little bit of integrity, When it will mean: “I’ve got your back if you’ve got mine!” Give me a scene where I believe in more Than bad hair cuts, guilt, and misery. I don’t know where I fit between the vegans and the nihilists, That might be the first thing I’ve said that wasn’t a lie tonight. Because there’s gotta be something more Than lying in the front yard, naked, screaming at the constellations. I want something more than an apology to say When I look the world in the eye. I’ll tell you, man, my friend William came to me with a message of hope. It went: “Fuck you and everything that you think you know. If you don’t step outside the things that you believe They’re gonna kill you.” He said: “No one’s gonna stop you from dying young, and miserable, and right. If you want something better, you gotta put that shit aside.” I thought about how for thousands of years There have been people who told us that things can’t go on like this, From Jesus Christ to the diggers, from Malthus to Zerzan, From Karl Marx to Huey Newton, But the shit goes on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on, On and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on. Now, I’m not saying that we can’t change the world, 'Cause everybody does at least a little bit of that. But I won’t shit myself, the way I’m living is a temper tantrum and I Need something else, need something else, need something else to stay alive. And on the night that I play my last show, I’ll be  Singing so loud that my heart explodes. And I’ll be singing, I’ll be singing: 'We are free!' Oh, but won’t you promise me that we won’t ever Forget what the means? I know it’s hard to give a shit sometimes, but promise me we’ll always try. 'Cause I don’t wanna hate you, and I don’t wanna hate me, And I don’t wanna have to hate everything anymore.