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felinefrenzies · 4 months

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Touch the Ab(utt)normality || Syd & Memphis

TIMING: several months ago, just after memphis returned to wr. LOCATION: near the abnormality. PARTIES: @2distraught2haunt & @felinefrenzies SUMMARY: syd invites memphis to hang out. CONTENT WARNINGS: parental death mentions, memory loss (shifter related), unsanitary (in regards to zombie death, not detailed)

Syd knocked their beer bottle against the bottom of Memphis’s. “Aren’t you too old to be out here?” Memphis was only a year older than themself, but it felt natural to poke fun at him anyway. The topic of Clary came to mind, and they thought of the little girl with the bright smile and brightly colored sticker book. Maybe it was better that Memphis was out on his own rather than confined to the apartment they shared together. Who was watching Clary, though? That was a question for another time. Instead, Syd lifted the bottle to their lips, taking a quick swig.

“I fucking hate warm beer. Would it kill them to drag coolers up here, too?” They looked around, dots of light from the neighboring fire only a few feet away, illuminating at least halfway up the path to the abnormality. It wasn’t somewhere they should’ve been and they knew it, but it was hard to say no to their friends. Syd looked back towards Memphis. “It’s good to have you back though, seriously. Been super fucking boring for the most part, don’t think you missed a whole lot if I’m being honest.”

—

Much to Memphis’ dismay and annoyance, he couldn’t think of a good comeback, so he opted to just laugh alongside Syd and knock his drink to theirs. “I wish I could argue that, but I can only imagine the headache I’m going to have tomorrow. And I think my hip already hurts.” he said it as a joke, but it reminded him that his hip actually did hurt. He was too young for that, right? “And I’m totally telling Clary that it was your fault.”

“Warm beer hates you.” Memphis tried to quip. Another failure. Clearly his head wasn’t in the right place. The last few months had been too hectic and chaotic. Even after coming back to town he barely had time to socialize. Clary and Memphis had always gotten along, but there was a difference between the two being siblings and Memphis being her guardian. The adjustment period had been rough. He had desperately needed tonight to hang out with his old friends. To feel like a normal adult again, not whatever cheap knock-off of a parent he had become. “That’s because I’ve always been the life of the party.” Memphis smiled innocently at their friend, taking a long drink from his lukewarm beer before trying for a bit more honesty to match Syd’s. “I desperately needed this, though. I feel like I’ve only talked to Clary for the past three months. And I know it’s been a while since you’ve seen her, but she’s gone full iPad baby. I swear she’s ignoring me on purpose.”

—

Syd rolled their eyes. “That’s kind of fucked up. I only invited you out here ‘cause everyone missed your face.” They reached out, pinching Memphis’s cheek. “Ugh, whatever. You can complain tomorrow. Right now is not tomorrow.” Dropping their hand from his face, they leaned against the small barricade that kept tourists from going over the edge on their way up to the abnormality. “Tell her. She’ll make fun of you for having shitty knees, too.” Syd wiggled their brows as they took another sip, smile still evident at the corners of their lips.

“Nah, I think warm beer hates you– all that complaining you’re doing about tomorrow.” Syd sighed, lowering their beer so the lip of it knocked against their shoulder as they crossed their arms. “The life of the party?” They considered the statement for a moment before snorting. “Yeah, sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night.” It felt nice, being with Memphis again. Growing up together meant a lot of things– shared secrets, hobbies, snack preferences. They were glad that he was back, despite the circumstances. “An iPad baby, really? Shit.” Clicking their tongue against the roof of their mouth, they tilted their head to the side. “You hear about those kinds that make money on youtube by making toy reviews? Barbie ‘an shit? She could make you guys millionaires.”

—

Memphis would have been annoyed by the cheek pinch if he hadn’t been so flattered by it. Still, he rolled his eyes and glanced over towards another gathering of lights. He wasn’t giving the satisfaction to Syd. The truth was, it was nice knowing that he had been missed. Between medical school and now Clary, Memphis had mostly been absent from Syd and their other friend’s lives for the last few years. Sure, he had some holiday visits, but he hadn’t exactly stayed in constant communication. When he withdrew from residency and packed his things to move back, he had been fairly certain he was moving back to a city with no friends. That they had all long forgotten him and moved on. He felt incredibly lucky that that wasn’t the case. “She’ll make fun of me for anything. And twelve year olds are ruthless.” Memphis sighed, “You better hope she still thinks you’re as cool as she used to. Maybe you’ll be safe from her wrath.”

Memphis finished off his beer and abandoned it on the ground and scoffed at Syd’s disbelief. How dare they not recognize his obviously party animal qualities? “Sorry, I don’t do a ton of sleeping. Since I’m so busy being the life of the party and everything. It’s a full time job and I constantly work doubles.” Admittedly, Memphis was so tired he could have passed out on the chair right now, but he was determined to have a fun night out with his friends, uninterrupted by his chronic sleep deprivation. “Right? She doesn’t even do that. Just watches those rich kids with all their money while actively costing me money. As the kids would say, smh.”

—

“Fuck. She’s twelve now?” Syd still pictured her as the bumbling five year old, overly excited to show the mess of drawings she’d done on multicolored paper. “And dude, of course she does. ‘Cause I am still just as cool.” They flexed their hands, an array of new tattoos scattered over their skin. The ink was ever growing, and they were grateful that the apprenticeship had been an opportunity that worked out. There weren’t many other things that they wanted to do with their life, but tattooing had always been a sort of calling, as ridiculous as it sounded.

“Don’t you know the no littering rules?” Syd knelt down, grabbing the bottle by the neck, pressing it back into Memphis’s chest. “I’m sure there’s a trash can around here somewhere.” They twisted around, eyes narrowed as they tried to find one. They might have to pack their drinks out, if there wasn’t one to be found. For a tourist site, Syd was almost positive there should’ve been one. “You’re so edgy, admitting you don’t sleep. Remind me to never see you if I have to go to the hospital.” Syd didn’t think that’d ever happen, anyway. Their parents were fairly adamant about not seeing just any doctor. “That’s what kids do though, right? The whole, cost you money thing.” Syd couldn’t imagine the position Memphis had been put in, and even if it was selfish, they had to admit they were grateful they were an only child with no children of their own. They didn’t think they’d be cut out to be a parent, anyway. “Let’s go find that trash can. Wake you the hell up.” They shoved the end of the bottle against his arm before leading the way up the pathway.

—

“She sure is. And she won’t let you forget it.” Memphis groaned, “I’ll be thirteen in a few months and then you’re officially ancient” Memphis gave his best Clary impression, which really only consisted of a higher octave and less emotion. But then Syd was claiming that they were cool and Memphis simply couldn’t have that. “No, no. That definitely can’t be it, there’s got to be another explanation. Bad taste. Or maybe a concussion or something.”

Memphis pretended to be insulted by Syd’s action, shoving the glass back into his arms, “I wasn’t going to leave it. You have no faith in me.” But Memphis didn’t abandon the bottle again, opting to hug it against his chest instead. “Some day when it’s not super dark and barely lit I need an updated tattoo tour. I’ve clearly missed a lot.”

Right, the hospital. Memphis hadn’t exactly gotten around to telling his friends that his return to take care of Clary was more permanent than he had originally thought. Realistically, residency just didn’t work when he had a kid to take care of. Being an EMT wasn’t exactly ideal either, honestly. The hours sucked. But it allowed for a pretty consistent schedule (even if that schedule was 24 hour shifts) and a stable paycheck. He thought about just ripping the bandaid off now, but didn’t want to sour the mood. So he opted to ignore the comment entirely and jump up from the chair, “I like the way you think. Lead the way, sarge.”

—

Syd snorted at Memphis’s impression of Clary. It was probably better that after what happened to his parents, he wasn’t left behind on his own. There were people who cared about him, clearly evident by the sheer amount of people who had welcomed him at his arrival, but it was different with family, and Syd knew that. “You should take better care of your sister, if that’s the case.” She arched a brow before gesturing further forward.

“You’re right, there’s no faith. Better to get rid of it now, anyway than to forget it or get lazy later.” They said it an almost sing-song voice as they dragged their hand against the wood railing, careful to avoid the splintering wood at its densest. Syd nodded, “and you could always drop by in for one yourself.” Syd shot him a look, “could even discount it, if it’s a money thing.” Truthfully, they’d probably ink him for free out of courtesy for being friends with her.

They climbed the small distance towards the abnormality lookout. It was too close for comfort, and something in their chest stirred at the proximity. It was like their jaguar knew to be wary of it. They looked over at Memphis, “oh, look.” They pointed across from where they stood, “looks like we found ourselves a trash can.” No recycling bins, but this would have to do. Syd finished off their own beer, tossing it into the can before turning around to look at the large structural rock. “Thought this thing was bigger as a kid, but being here now, feel like it’s just as big. Dontcha think so?”

—

“Wow. You’re such a traitor. You’re supposed to be on my side.” Memphis whined, but continued to follow Syd. At the end of the day, Syd was one of the closest friends he had ever had. Sure they had grown apart in recent years, but the two had grown up together. Their constant teasing of each other at an almost sibling quality to it. He wanted to make sure that they didn’t grow apart again, so even if they did side with the other Malik, unfortunately Syd was stuck with him.

“I’d love a tattoo actually. We should set something up.” He had no idea what tattoo he was interested in, but if it was by Syd he would think of something. It wasn’t like his parents could object. His mom would have to show up in ghost form and do that, and for some reason they hadn’t yet shown their faces. It was weird, of all the Malik family line that Memphis did not want to see, the two people he actually wished he could didn’t seem to want to make an appearance.

Tossing his own glass into the trash, Memphis focused his attention on the rock structure that Syd pointed out. They were right, it felt like nothing had really changed. It was just as terrifying as it had been back when they were Clary’s age. Memphis had never liked heights, so any jokes about climbing the structure always got his blood racing. It had been especially unfortunate when Syd and their friends figured that out. “And I’m not any less scared of it than I was as a kid either. Gives me the heebie-jeebies. That thing doesn’t bother you at all?”

—

“I can be on both of your sides. I’m a double agent like that.” Syd shrugged, grin still pricking the corners of her mouth, widening ever so slightly. It was funny in its own way, lingering on the outskirts of a friendship that they thought would grow more and more dormant, but had flourished the moment that Memphis had returned to Wicked’s Rest.

Syd’s eyes grew wide as Memphis agreed. “Shit, really?” They tilted their head as if to survey his biceps, then reached up with one hand to create an L shape with their thumb and index finger. “I can imagine where it’ll go. Right there.” No idea what it’d look like, they’d figure that out later. “I think you’ll look pretty badass with one.” Or maybe he’d look the same, but did that really matter?

“Mmm, wouldn’t say I’m not not afraid of it.” Maybe that wasn’t the right word, because Syd wouldn’t be standing this close if they were afraid of it. “Just not super into it, and I think that’s pretty normal, right?” They said with a laugh. It was getting darker, and there were only a few lights that lit the walkway up. They should probably head back down to the fire. “I dare you to touch it.” It was said as an afterthought, something they knew they shouldn’t be saying.

—

“Double agent my ass.” Memphis sighed, rolling his eyes even though she probably couldn’t see him in this light. Or lack thereof. “You’d leave me as soon as she smiled at you. She can be deceptively cute when she wants to be.” He should bring her to more things with her. She may enjoy hanging out with the ‘big kids’. But at the same time, they didn’t have the same relationship they used to when they were only siblings. Clary may not be as excited about hanging out with her guardian's friends as she was about her brother’s.

“You already have it planned out?” Memphis questioned, raising his arm to inspect the area she pointed at. He rolled his sleeve up to expose the skin and studied the spot. It wasn’t a bad idea. He could cover the tattoo if he chose to, though it wasn’t like his job cared about tattoos. He had been at the station a few times to prepare for training. Half the squad had sleeves. “Did you pick out the tattoo already too or do I have to do that part?” He honestly wasn’t against the idea. He was sure that Syd could think of something cooler than Memphis could. Syd was a wizard when it came to tattoos. Their brain worked in an artistic and creative way that Memphis’ never could.

“Being indifferent to the weird mineral rock is so casually badass” Memphis laughed. “I don’t know. Everyone in town seemed to always have an opinion on this thing.” Memphis raised his hand to motion towards the thing, but made sure to keep plenty of distance between them, “Most people think it’s cursed. I’m pretty sure someone told me once that it was space rock that aliens were using to track us. As if Maine is at the top of any alien planet’s list of invasion.” Memphis wasn’t sure what he believed about the thing. He guessed he just thought it was a weird, big ass mineral. But the part of him that knew ghosts existed and had to keep somewhat of an open mind, knew that he didn’t want to risk touching the thing. “Me? You’re the one that’s ‘not super into it’.Shouldn’t you be the one touching it?”

—

“Okay, and? So what.” Syd held their hands up in defense. “Look, you can’t just tell Clary no. I’m pretty sure that’s illegal in at least every single country known to man.” Maybe that was a little dramatic. Syd did have a soft spot for the kid, though. “You should bring her over sometime, I have no problem watching her if you want to go out on some hot date or something.” They bumped his arm with their own, wiggling their brows suggestively. “Or, we can all go do something together. Whatever, I’m down.”

“Yeah, it’ll go great across there.” Syd motioned to the spot again, folding their arms over their chest. “Oh, dude. I’m not going to pick what goes on your skin for the rest of your life.” It was said with a snort, “you get to do that. Don’t want you saying I ruined your life in five years time or some shit.” More dramatics, but to be expected from her. “But if you’re drawing a blank, I’ve got a flash sheet with some things that might be more your style.” They tried to imagine what Memphis would want, but unfortunately drew a blank. While they knew him, there were some things that were a little too intimate. In her case, she put whatever the hell she wanted then and there on her body with little to no deliberation.

“A space rock? Aliens?” Syd regarded the large fixture with a nod, “you know what? I’d believe that. It kinda looks like that.” She hoped it wouldn’t upset the rock, if there was anything living inside of it– aliens or otherwise. This town had a lot of weird things, herself included, and so it wouldn’t surprise her to know that the abnormality actually had feelings of its own. “Maine might, be. Dude, have you seen our beaches? They’re preem.” Syd narrowed her eyes at him at the suggestion. “Why should I be the one to touch it? You’re afraid, aren’t you? Why don’t we just touch it together? You know, Nemo it.” It felt childish to suggest such a thing, because even if deep down Syd knew that there was something clearly wrong with the abnormality, it was just a rock, wasn’t it? Why should she be afraid of it?

—

“I knew you were under her spell too” Memphis shook his head dramatically as if disappointed in his friend. For all the shit he talked, Clary was actually a pretty good kid. Considering the year they had both had, she could have been a lot worse. Taking care of her now was hard enough. He had no clue how he would manage to do it if the girl was rebellious. He supposed he would probably find out in the next few years as she got into high school. “Really? I mean, I don’t see any hot dates in my future. But I could always use a backup babysitter. Especially one Clary actually likes. “I guarantee she’d love to hang out with you again.”

So the choice of tattoo was on Memphis to decide. He shouldn’t be as disappointed as he was. He shook it off quickly though. Syd was right, it should be something that he chooses. Especially the first one. “Boo” Memphis still complained, because who was he really if not complaining?

“Right. Aliens are definitely planning an invasion of Maine to scope out the best vacation spots.” Memphis laughed at the thought. He at least hoped they were nice, if they were going to take up real estate in the town. Alien neighbors were one thing, but shitty alien neighbors was taking it too far. Yes! I’m absolutely afraid to touch the cursed alien rock. Thank you for noticing.” The craziest part was that Memphis was actually considering Syd’s proposition. At least if they touched it together they’d both be responsible for whatever happened. So now Memphis had a choice to make. On one hand, he knew it was a stupid idea to touch the rock, but on the other hand - it was a rock. People touched rocks all the time. Some people even made careers out of touching rocks. And Memphis was just drunk enough to let the latter thought process lead his decision making. “Okay, you know what? Fine. Let’s do it. Let’s touch the butt.” Memphis literally shook off his last remaining fears and held his palm out. Ready?” He put on a brave face, but under his breath he continued to mumble ‘touch the butt, touch the butt, touch the butt’ under his breath.

—

“Is it a spell, or is it because she’s just cool? I’m going to tell her you don’t think she’s cool.” Syd stuck their tongue out at him before rolling their eyes. “Why not? You could totally get a hot date. You’re pretty hot yourself, it’s just about putting yourself out there, right?” Syd was a bit of a serial dater themself, but in recent years, it had died down. Tattooing didn’t take up a lot of their time, but they were filling their time with other things, like hanging out with friends instead of chasing around summer flingers (or otherwise). “Uh, duh. It’s because we’re both cool, and obviously she’d want to hang out with me.” Whether or not that was still true considering the time that had gone by, Syd wasn’t sure, but they’d let themself believe it.

“You never know. Have you seen our hiking trails?” Syd grinned at Memphis, “oh, come on.” She couldn’t blame him though and she knew that. There was something definitely fucked up about the weird alien rock as Memphis had put it, and a strand of anxiety hung between herself and said structure. But if they both did it, then it’d be fine, right? No harm done, they could both walk away. Nothing would happen. The jaguar stirred at the thought and Syd silently coaxed it into submission. She would never put herself or the spirit in danger, it had to know that. This was just… a rock, despite the feeling she got from it. A rock without a purpose. A stupid rock.

“Let’s fucking go, Memphy.” Syd hung one arm around his neck as they extended their other, palm mere inches from the abnormality. Nothing would happen, and they’d come away with this with nothing but laughter, right? The jaguar stirred again, but it was too late. Syd’s hand was planted firmly against the rock, and nothing happened. Nothing that they noticed, at least. They looked over at Memphis, a nervous grin pulling at the corners of her lips as she dropped her hand. “See? Nothing happened. Nothing at all.” A spark of anxiety, a recollection of what happened in the woods– how Callum wasn’t here tonight, and Syd blinked away the visceral memories. “Nothing.” They coughed out again, stepping away from the structure. They looked at it with pursed lips. “You feel anything?”

—

“Definitely a spell. Probably like black magic. Some dark and forbidden shit. I couldn’t care less if you told her I’m not cool.” Memphis crossed his arms and pouted, knowing full well that both Syd and him knew that he cared. Not that it mattered. No matter what Clary truly thought, there was no way in hell that twelve year old would ever openly admit that Memphis was cool. But she definitely probably thought it internally. That was what Memphis told himself at least. “Not a ton of people in their late twenties are itching to date someone with a twelve year old. Even if she’s not like genetically mine. It’s a lot to commit to.” Not that he had really tried to find someone, but it had to be true. Memphis knew he wouldn’t be interested in it if the script were flipped. “Between Clary and everything else, I’m not sure I have time to spare for someone anyways. But thanks for calling me hot. Always a welcome compliment.” He grinned at the end, hoping to lighten the mood a bit. Deep, meaningful conversations weren’t his thing.

Memphis rolled his eyes at Syd’s comment, biting the urge to continue their pointless argument about where aliens may or may not wish to crash land and vacation. His mind was drifting from the joke now anyways, instead focusing on the rock in front of him. He wasn’t sure if he had ever gotten this close to it. Despite his desire to be in the medical field, purposely putting himself in danger had never been something Memphis enjoyed. Sure, there was something thrilling about being in the emergency room and helping save someone’s life that had been injured. But that was their life that was in danger. Not Memphis’. He could help glue it back together, but what could he do if it was his own life in peril? He shook the thought away though. Comparing someone’s very real and life threatening injury was night and day to Memphis not wanting to touch a rock. He ignored the prickling sensations crawling up his skin and the way his breath caught just thinking about putting his hands out any further. He finally rubbed both palms together, as if the friction would provide any extra protection and gave one final look at Syd. “Fuck it. Let’s go.”

Before Memphis could second guess himself again, he thrust his palm out. Syd and him touched it practically simultaneously, both keeping it resting there as they waited. What they were waiting for, Memphis couldn’t say. For a brief moment, Memphis did feel like he felt something, but not from himself. Syd had always been different to Memphis. Ever since they were kids, Memphis could feel something about them. Some sort of tv static, tingling sensation that just emanated off of them. Admittedly, as Memphis grew older he had just assumed it was a crush. Though when he explained it to his mom, she told him it sounded familiar to the same way they’d feel about ghosts. Clearly Syd wasn’t a ghost. So maybe they were haunted? It had been the best explanation he could come up with all these years later. For the most part, he had been able to ignore it after spending so much time together growing up. But touching the rock, he felt it again. Almost… stronger this time? It was probably just his nerves. “Just disappointment, mostly” Memphis lied. Nothing was exactly what he had wanted. “I assumed we’d be beamed up. Scotty style.”

—

“So you believe in magic?” Syd paused, before continuing, “I’m not about to bust into song, let’s get that clear right now.” They stifled a laugh, knowing well enough that magic did exist, or at least a version of it. This town was full of it. If she existed, and the undead existed, then other things did, too. She thought of the number of times she’d run into things out in the woods and how it never bode well, how it was always hard to make sense of it. But now, she rolled with the punches. She had lived here long enough to understand that while it might not make sense, whatever was happening was most certainly real. But there were a lot of people who didn’t think that way, and she wasn’t sure if Memphis was one of them, despite knowing him for the better part of their lives. “Hm, I guess a kid would kinda fuck that up, right? Next time you see someone hot, just say she’s not yours and kick her to the curb.” It was obviously a joke, and she hoped Memphis would take it as such. “No, for real though, I guess I get it. Not the kid thing, just sorta the whole everything-thing, y’know?” They offered him a small, reassuring smile. “I’m sure it’ll happen when it’s supposed to happen. Fate ‘an all that shit, right?” Syd didn’t believe in fate, but it sounded nice.

Syd should have turned away, should have decided against it. All it did was dredge up the memories of what happened with Callum, something that had been tucked away until tonight. She remembered what it felt like, teeth ripping through flesh. She couldn’t remember the rest of it, though. Couldn’t recall what had happened in the after, as the jaguar had suppressed those memories.

But it was too late. They had touched the metaphorical ass of Wicked’s Rest. She looked over at Memphis, begging for him to have some kind of reaction. Syd wasn’t sure if that was selfish or not, hoping to not go through whatever these memories were alone. Maybe they weren’t even hers. But the more she tried to push them away, the more they revealed. Syd swallowed thickly, an uneven laugh leaving them. No, that was too forced. They tried again, shoving Memphis by the arm. Something playful, something else, too. A means to distance herself, maybe. “Yeah. Fuck. Fucking Scotty.” Syd cleared her throat again, pushing her hair out of her face. “Okay. Let’s uh–” sinew, blood, rotting flesh, “go get another beer?” She didn’t want to stay at the abnormality for longer than necessary, and her throat was dry. “We’ll find another trash can. Fuck if I’m climbing back up here.”

#para: touch the ab(utt)normality #para: memphis #parental death tw #memory loss tw #unsanitary tw #wickedswriting

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blue-madd · 6 months

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I couldn't remember who I am to save my life but I'll be damned if I ever forget any of my 200+ paras' backstories

#cant remember if i ate today but i can tell u everything thats happened to my paras since 2015 without a single doubt #my mother used to joke abt how i have a 'selective memory' & clearly my brain got its priorities right #madd

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0-parasol-0 · 7 months

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Gay people in my Sanrio

#Para’s art #I rotate them in my brain regularly #Merold #Pikero #PikeMero #fragaria memories

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jeypawlik · 2 years

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Pokemon From Memory - 8

Not being able to erase has made this really difficult

#pokemon #fanart #pokemon from memory #kanto #gen 1 #red and blue #pokemon red and blue #oddish #gloom #vileplume #paras #parasect #venonat

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withinthecoffin · 8 months

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In my source I was in a consang relationship w/ Bruce and I miss it sm, I miss having a boyfriend and I miss being in a consang relationship. I need someone to sweep me off my feet frfr

#✧ ‧₊ Jason #✧ ꒰ txt. ‧₊#꒰ rambles ꒱#I’m a jason todd fictive #‘problematic’ source memories my beloved #plural community #plural system #fictive #dc fictive #plurality #pro para #pro consang #consang safe #consanguinamory #I’m not rq but I’ll tag it as such for reach ->#radqueer

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britneyshakespeare · 4 months

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you know at the end of the day today i was chatting w some other paras. i was a special ed para for a seventh grader today that's what i did. and the last block for them is just learning center and it's chill and it's friday and some of the kids were making pizza and no one was really doing anything or stressed or bothered so the kids and the adults just have various little shooting-the-breeze sessions although im usually not that active in these bc Im Shy, And A Substitute so i feel very out of place a lot of the time. but anyway i had never really talked much w either of the paras i was with today and we struck up a conversation about some stuff and one of them says to me "you know just so you know i LOVE your hair" and she turns to the other para and she's like "isnt it gorgeous? dont you love her hair?"

and i kinda blushed and said thank you a couple of times and looked down bc that's what i do when i receive a sincere-sounding compliment unexpectedly. and then i chatted a little more before i kinda drifted out of the conversation and opened my book and after a page or two one of them asked me about what i was reading (it's Song of the Cell: An Exploration of Medicine and the New Human by Siddhartha Mukherjee if you were wondering and i started it a few days ago). so i told them a bit about it and started chatting again on the topic of reading and i guess i was just naturally smiling and the same one who complimented my hair said "look at those dimples. i just can't w you"

#made me wanna cry a little. i was like thank u mom #felt beautiful at work. who do i tell this to?#tales from diana #i have never had my dimples complimented not to my memory at least #i kinda forget i have them bc i don't. i don't like. smile naturally and get a good view of them when i look in the mirror #i dont think they show up when i dont smile candidly either? unless im forced-smiling really hard #yeah idrk what they look like i guess #i received both of these compliments with a little bit of an 'oh shucks' (blushes) attitude #i have to say. it's not that i don't get complimented on my appearance. but most of the time it doesn't sound... don't wanna say 'sincere'#it doesn't feel like. FELT. as a compliment. a lot of the time #like sometimes it feels like courtesy. and other times. it feels like #someone will mention to me that im like young and pretty but theyll say it in a 'but im not impressed' tone which is really #odd bc. it's not like i asked?#it's like in a small way it's to 'put me in my place' or address some elephant in the room #like it's an annoyance to them rather than an expression of. you know. admiration #not that i need to be admired for my appearance but that's what i mean. like it felt nice #like a lot of the time ppl will tell me im pretty it sounds either like flattery or like some kind of weird anti-flattery #they're trying to give me a big head or they assume it's already big and they wanna deflate it #yeah that was nice tho. i talked w one of those paras for a pretty long time abt art and photography #she has a children's book coming out soon too and it sounded so interesting. i liked her a lot #i also like the kid i worked w today. i had been w her before but not in like 6 months. she's a sweetie

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balladetto · 9 months

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reasons to cup a face / always accepting / @gloryseized ( Shion )

GROUND, during a moment of intense emotional stress, the sender gently takes the receiver's face in their hands to ground them until they're calmer again.

It happens in snapshot moments.

As he registers the feel of a palm between his fingers, somehow heaving against him without toppling him over, Kane opens his eyes. He blinks — blinks again, and the inside of the Temple of Time comes into focus: a muted colour to the light that pours in through its stained glass windows as if the very air has mildewed. There's a silence here that unnerves him. He realises, at once, three things.

Kane is in a body he does not recognise but knows, deep down, is his.

He is holding onto someone he does not recognise but knows, deeper down, is his brother.

This is a Dream. Which is different from a dream, 'cause this is the type — the only type — he can still vividly recall after waking, like echoes bleeding into reality. He's been getting these recently.

Almost as though he's been waiting for these things to connect, the likeness of Shion wrests his hand from Kane's. He steps away. He's— so tall like this, figure looming, shadows on his face that can't be cut through, but so is Kane; so is the form he's been warped into, and they are two brothers divided by a space that shouldn't be making his breath quicken so hard.

"I promise," Shion's image signs, a bold declaration with bold movements, and Kane — for the same reason he knows without recognising — wants to scream at him. What are you promising? Do you have any idea? You can't promise me something like that. You can't promise me something you've already broken!

Don't leave me!

The quiet stretches. He can't move. He's stuck in a moment he doesn't know how to break out of, hand vainly outstretched and wide eyes pinned on a face he can't see. His skin feels one touch removed from splitting apart the way his heart feels one nudge off from falling over the precipice of some knife's edge, yet he aches anyway, willing to be ripped open if it means his brother will be there.

His brother will not be there.

Kane watches in helpless horror as Shion turns, boots tapping out a decisive farewell march. He's distantly aware of the little light following after him — Navi, it takes a second to place, blue and a perfect fit and so out of place at the same time. They're going ahead without him, approaching the pedestal made for the sword on Shion's back, and Kane is struck with such a sudden desperation that his body, frozen as it is, trembles. Convulses.

Stop, he can't cry. Don't leave me, he can't plead. It's only when his brother raises the Master Sword high, about to return it to its resting place, that the stone Kane's trapped in releases him. He stumbles forward — forces himself to keep stumbling forward, throat strained raw as he calls for his brother, but he can tell— he's too late. He's too late. The Dream stills, suspended on knowledge he can't look away from—

Kane wakes up to arms binding his hands to his sternum and a hot face pressed into the back of his neck.

For a second, the change thoroughly dazes him. He blinks, capturing nothing, and in its span: the world rearranges itself. Pain flares from his chest, throbbing in time with the harsh, too-fast breaths strangling him. The night is lit by firelight, casting a dim glow over cave walls and along the things in a campsite for two travellers. With how sticky his nose and cheeks and eyes feel, he thinks he's probably been crying. His brother is here.

His brother is here.

"Shh-ii—" he starts, and finds he won't complete the name.

Shion jerks against his side, inhaling so sharply it sounds like it'd hurt before hurriedly pulling away from where he's curled around Kane. The motion has him nauseous with a fear carried over, snatching at a forearm the right size with hands the right size, but his brother isn't— isn't going away. He moves until they're facing each other, gaze searching for Kane's. This up close, he can trace every contour. He can delineate every crease, put an emotion to every feature — helped by a nearby fairy's shine. Yellow. Tatl.

He— lets go. "Shion," he shakily, unnecessarily, forms with his hands. It's too cramped for brother to be signed well, so he repeats it again, and again, and again. The shape falls apart further each time, until it's little more than his left hand knocking atop his right.

Don't leave me. Don't leave me. Don't leave me. If he could carve this into his skin so Shion can see and understand it when his voice and fingers are as useless as they are now, he would. And maybe some part of him really tried, maybe that's what the twinges running along the lengths of his arms are, but— his brother has never needed Kane's words to know what to do.

Shion holds him gently. Carefully, palm and fingertips assured in their own tenderness. He presses a different message into the skin of his cheeks, the answer to all that goes unsaid but not unrealised.

Don't leave me, Kane begs with a bitten lip, heaving shoulders, and a weird, awful certainty that he'll be ignored.

I'm here, Shion swears with circling thumbs, eyes that reflect his twin's pain, and a steady, near irremovable warmth.

Kane's voice trips over an ugly sob. He pushes his hands over his brother's, drinking in the touch with an overwrought exhaustion, and tries to match his breathing to the slow cadence of that terribly profuse love.

( What a strange Dream, he will later think as they drift back to sleep. A strange fear, he will correct, squeezing-hand-in-squeezing-hand. Shion would never leave him. )

#gloryseized #* gloryseized & kane / if i'm alive‚ my brother can't be dead.#( hi. i'd say sorry for the length and sorry being obsessed with them but. i'm really not sorry at all #[collapses on my face] HILARY. HILARYYYYY I AM SHAKING YOUUU #touching on what we discussed re: memories of adult timeline kane crossing over to child timeline kane #i imagine the tailend of those memories comes mid-mm so that's great!! that's so cool!! [bursts into a puddle]#also thinking about how kane would not develop the intense touch aversion grasshopper does. esp @ his brother. and god. GOD.#eternally emo over these two thanks 😭😭 TRULY THANK YOU FOR SENDING THIS IN!! )#* lionheart / ic.#* lionheart / answer.#* ic / para.#* v / stars of unchanged fates.#ask to tag /#long post cw

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skeleticals · 10 months

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#in the trenches #qsmp #qq no hizo nada para merecer esto...... solo sufre y sufre y sufre y sufre sin ninguna razón #mi unica teoría es q esta en una pesadilla o algo así donde todo lo q el piensa q las personas q ama piensan sobre el #creen q el piensa q tilín lo odia por el tan mal padre q fue? aunque el intento lo mejor q podia para darle una buena vida a tilin?#el amo richas lo más que pudo. hasta cuando 2 de sus padres se estaban peleando el llevo a richas a un lugar muy lejos para q richas -#no la pase mal durante esos momentos. pero al fin y al cabo solo hizo q lo llamaran un mal padre x llevar al niño a aquel lugar.#hizo lo que pudo. es verdad que comitio errores pero nunca unos tan graves como para merecer esto.#he doesn't deserve any of this all the things he suffers for are for no good reason.#he got kidnapped and his memories got stolen. they fucked w his brain enough for it to get damaged to a point where he doesn't know how to -#write OR read. and now this #<- obvio q hay más pero eso es lo q me acuerdo ahora #chatter

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declinlalune · 1 year

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Jirt and Tie || Andy & Ryan (Ray)

TIMING: current. PARTIES: @spaceforanother & @declinlalune SUMMARY: andy runs into ryan again while thrifting after he saw her stealing the last time. CONTENT WARNINGS: Brief mentions of memory loss.

Andy heard the bell above the door ring and turned around to see Ryan as he walked in in the sweater she had helped him pick out the last time they’d run into one another, which, coincidentally, had been at this very spot. “That thing makes you look a little aged, I warned you.” She let out a laugh before moving down the row of hangers, moving aside a rough looking jacket that could not be saved. She had already found a few things for herself and Alex, and was beginning to look for Kaden, just as a means to let him know that she was grateful he was around. With her basket of findings hanging over her arm, she sighed as she moved away from the lost causes.

The last time she and Ryan had run into each other, he had seen her slipping something into her bag. Instead of saying anything, he turned a blind eye and had asked about the sweater he was currently wearing. Andy picked out another jacket that looked a little too small for Kaden and held it up to Ryan with a tilt of her head. “This is more in line with the trends, I think. That still matters, right?” Not that she would know– she never had much of a life that existed within said trends.

Ryan had certainly gotten better at taking over Rays body since the first time. And the first time had been months ago, back when he’d first bumped into Andy actually. She’d let all his odd mannerisms pass her by as he fought to keep control. Or perhaps she was being kind because he’d not said a single word about her pinching something off the racks. Who was he to judge, he was stealing someone else's life at the moment after all. He’d even given her his real name, a mistake he hadn’t made since then, but it made him feel so normal to see her. So he’d come back thrifting often, getting into the habit not only to potentially run into a prospective friend but also to indulge in the more outdated clothes places like these held…clothes that reminded him of his own style before he’d died.

“Can’t hurt to look a little older right? More respect from the oldies on the street this way.” Ryan shot back with a cheeky grin. He held out both arms when the jacket was lifted to Rays form, letting her size him up. “I’d say it depends on your aims, are you trying to be trendy or do you prefer comfy? Or maybe you even want to look at little aged.” he teased her slightly. “What are you looking for today anyway? Anything specific?” Looking back to the racks he started to shuffle the fabric around.

“I mean, I guess?” Andy arched a brow at Ryan’s comment, not truly understanding him, but deciding not to fight him on whatever respect he wanted to delve out in the form of a sweater that looked like it’d been from a vintage magazine. “Is that the grandpa sweater thing? I think I saw that on tik tok, teens just going thrifting for the sake of finding old people’s sweaters they either donated or were forced to donate, if you know what I mean.” The whole concept was kind of sad.

“But obviously comfort is key, anything else, and what the hell is the point?” Even if Andy had lived a different life— one with normalcy like a regular education, a high school education, she would have preferred comfort to style any day. It showed in the dungarees she wore and the way her converse were worn in. “Eh, nothing really, not for myself. For my sister.” She pulled a t-shirt off of the rack and quirked her lips to the side after noticing the bleach stain. “I could probably tie-dye this or something.” She’d done that a lot, in the past— to make it seem like she and Alex had new clothes. A new appearance could do wonders for the grueling day-to-day they once lived. “What about you? Out here for more grandpa sweaters?”

“They’re doing that? That’s a bit offensive…I’m not a grandpa and I like this sweater.” Ryan pouted a little. But if he really thought about it, at least a familiar style was coming back into style, it’d be easier to act more of this time if he spent some of Rays money on anything. Casting an eye around he wondered if any of his old stuff would surface in a thrift like this. Maybe his parents had donated all of his things, maybe his roommate back in college had stolen a few things that didn’t fit anymore. He hadn’t really thought about it too much.

“What sort of thing does your sister like? Is she all for comfort over style as well?” Ryan let Rays face bloom into a smile. “Now tie-dye is something I can get behind.” he complemented. “Oh nothing specific, but also something very specific…you know…the usual thrifting situation.” he joked shuffling through the racks idly, just happy to be chatting. “Maybe I can help you look for something…or cause a distraction?” he said, amusing himself quietly and flashing a smile to Andy to show he meant no harm.

The way that Ryan seemingly fell into thought wasn’t lost on Andy. She watched him for a moment, but decided that asking him why it seemed like he’d seen a ghost was pushing too far past any kind of private barrier that’d been set up. She knew she had her own, and the wall grew larger with every day. Who was she to ask her new thrifting-friend what was going on in his head? “Being a grandpa is in though, remember?” She grinned at him before pushing the t-shirt back onto the rack, deciding that the beach stain was in too weird of a position for it to be redeemed by a tie-dye job.

“She wears a lot of… t-shirts.” That didn’t really help at all, but did it matter? Before they’d gotten to Wicked’s Rest– before Andy had gotten a proper job, they simply got what they could afford. Now that they both had a means of income, even if it were on the smaller side, they were better able to express themselves in their style. “Think of a hiker, then think of somebody who plays soccer?” She let out a laugh before moving onto the next t-shirt. At Ryan’s question, Andy rolled her eyes. “Yeah, ha-ha, funny. I’d do that even without your distraction, thanks!” She leaned against the rack and stared across to the other side of the aisle where a pair of denim cargo shorts stood out to her. “Had no clue they made those in denim.”

She brought Ryan out of his thoughts with her comment and he felt a small tremor shake Rays body as if he’d lost a bit of his control being so lost in thought. Wiggling his fingers as discreetly as he could he pulled another sweater off the rack and shook it at her in mock outrage. “Damn right it’s back in. It should have never left. It’s the perfect style if I do say so myself.” Shaking off his melancholy thoughts he dove back into the task at hand.

Ryan glances at Andy with a slight raise of Ray's eyebrows at her less than descriptive answer. Even as she expands he doesn’t quite know what to do with that sort of information. “They don’t really go together in my head I’ll be honest. But I can try my best to match the idea.” he chuckles, starting to search for some sort of jersey, or maybe a t-shirt with a funny caption on the front. That was hiking attire as far as he was concerned. “Ah but think about how much more you could get with a little more time and effort.” he waggled Ray's eyebrows another time for good measure before following her gaze towards the denim. “Everything should be denim, all things deserve a denim twin. Full denim is what you should get your sister. That’s proper hiking clothes, durable and versatile. Would she suit it?...who am I kidding, anyone would suit denim on denim.” he walked around the racks and found a denim jacket to vaguely match the shorts.

“No, they go together. I think you just need to see her, or it, in action.” Andy had figured out her sister’s style and that it wasn’t too far from her own. While Andy wore a lot more overalls than Alex did, they had been able to exchange shirts back and forth for the most part since the height difference didn’t matter quite as much. At the mention of denim on denim, Andy shook her head with a laugh. “Hell no. Do you know how much denim makes you sweat? Please don’t tell me you’re hiking in denim.” She scrunched her nose and pulled at the nylon t-shirt. “This is better than denim.”

Even though he’d clearly been joking, she couldn’t get the idea out of her head. “Hey, don’t they call that something? Canadian tuxedos, or something?” She swore she had heard the saying before. When, she wasn’t sure– possibly on the television in a motel room or something. Who the hell knew. Andy put the shirt back onto the rack and hummed under her breath. “I don’t know anything about style, really, but I do know that that jean jacket you’ve got in your hands? An eye sore.”

“Whatever you say,” Ryan agreed idly as he’d shifted the racks in order to find what he was looking for. He lowered his prize at her displeased face. Denim on Denim wasn’t coming back? But sweaters were? God what were kids his age in this decade even doing. He didn’t think the kids at the college looked too terrible, but they were clearly missing some of the real flare of the last few decades. “I only hike in denim.” he pouted at her rebelliously, not telling the truth but not willing to let this issue pass by.

“Do they?” Ryan asked curiously. He’d not heard that, but then again it seemed he’d missed a lot in the darkness before he’d found Ray to possess. He recoiled dramatically and clutched the jacket to Ray’s chest. “No way. A masterpiece, I’m going to wear this every day from now on and you can’t stop me.” he jutted out Ray’s chin and took the coat off the hanger. He looked at it for only half a second to register that it was indeed a womens small before he put a great deal of effort putting arms into the sleeves and trying his very best to get it over broader shoulders than he was used to on his old body.

“You sound like my little sister.” Really, he seemed her age, too, which meant that in theory, he should be able to help her with the current trends, but with his grandpa sweater on, Andy wasn’t all too sure he knew them much himself. “You only hike in denim?” She arched a brow and shook her head with a laugh. “Sure, and I’m sure you wear clogs while doing it, right?” Wearing denim while hiking wasn’t entirely unheard of, but it sounded uncomfortable. She only wore it when she knew she wouldn’t be outside a lot of the time, and out of anything, flour had an easier time coming out of her jeans than it did anything else.

“They do. Is that not a thing anymore?” Andy questioned reality for a moment, thinking back to the show she’d seen it on, but she couldn’t recall the exact timing of it, or decade it had taken place in. “Maybe you can bleach it, make it look a little bit acid wash, really fall into the vibe you’re obviously trying to set for yourself.” She watched him as he started to put the jacket on, and it was then that she noticed it was going to be way too small for him. Andy snorted before stuffing a t-shirt that looked okay enough for Kaden into the basket. “You know, I don’t think that being able to make things larger in the washer machine works, just the shrinking thing.” Which she’d done a lot of, if she were being honest.

“Of course I wear denim, it’s all about the warmth and durability of your clothing on the open trail.” Ryan insists. He’s definitely joking, Ray doesn’t own a denim jacket, and he wasn’t quite ready to start financially running the kid just yet. At least not on something like that. He was fine with hoodies for the moment. “Clogs? We all have our limits. Clogs might be mine. Are you saying you have seen someone in clogs recently? Is it your sister? Is that why she won’t wear denim on denim?” He teased making a face at her as if this was the more horrific news he’d heard recently.

Not willing to give up so easily, he tried to turn Ray’s shoulders this way and that in order to squeeze every millimeter of him into the jacket. It was very much not working. But Ryan was having fun trying. “Are you kidding, this is my exact size, I’m but a tiny little guy. The smallest guy around, I’m a small I swear I am.” he insisted. At some point his grip on the fabric slipped and he was unable to reach the ends of the jacket anymore. It was sticking up at the back like some sort of tiny cape in the breeze, except it had also trapped his arms and elbows to his sides. He was pinned. Not willing to admit defeat, he turned around like nothing was wrong and nodded at the t-shirt she’d found. “A good find? Is that your sister's style?”

“I can’t argue against that, considering the amount of times I’ve used jeans as a blanket.” She paused for a second before picking back up, “I sometimes get lazy and forget my comforter in the dryer.” That was a lie, but Ryan didn’t need to know that. Andy squinted at Ryan with a raised brow at the mention of clogs. “You know, I think she might be the kind of person to be into clogs. They might make her taller.” Andy was only about five inches taller than Alex, but she sure held it over her sister’s head. In fact, it was the only thing she held over Alex’s head.

Andy leaned against the clothing rack as she watched Ryan attempt to fit the jacket the rest of the way over his shoulders. It looked like the seams would pop in protest at any moment. “Yeah, you definitely are. Got the t-rex arms going on and everything.” She pointed out the fact that his elbows hadn’t even reached through to where they should have been. It was an occurrence she faced often– getting too toned for some of her favorite jackets. She hoped it never looked this comical. “You should get it, I think you look great in it.” Andy grinned at Ryan before turning her attention back to the t-shirts. “A good find, something that doesn’t have holes in it, and something that will make her feel good, yes. I guess. That pretty much sums it up.” She shot a look at Ryan who was still stuck in the jacket. “I think you ripped it at the back.” It was a lie, but she wanted to cause him even further defeat, just as a means of having fun.

Ryan paused for a second and turned to give Andy his full attention after hearing her words, and then she clarified and he averted Ray’s eyes. Was she a liar? Perhaps. Was HE a liar? Definitely, so who was he to try and pry and judge. They were only acquaintances after all, just friends of the thieving kind. “Aren’t…” he hesitated for another moment wondering if he was going to sound crazy, he really was still only learning the trends these days. “Aren’t crocodiles technically clogs? You know that squishy shoe people like?”

“Yeah if you’re not wearing your jackets with t-rex arms what are you even doing, clearly nothing good. You should really get yourself sorted, you know.” Ryan laughed a little when she played along and agreed. “Maybe I will.” He scanned Ray’s eyes over the racks and nudged a few more shirts up towards where Andy was looking through for her sister. It sounded like she was making a good attempt to cheer her sister up if he had the right end of the stick at least. He was willing to help any way he could, even if it was being an accomplice to more crime. What would he care anyway, if they got caught it’d be Ray going down for it, he was sure the kid could figure that out for them. A small shiver of worry filled his soul as she mentioned ripping the back. Maybe he WOULD be the one taking something today. “You’re kidding right?” he said, trying to look over at the back of the jacket unsuccessfully. He then attempted to remove his arms to get it off…and could’t. He shot her an imploring look. “Help.”

“You can’t wear crocodiles.” It took her a moment to realize that he had meant the shoe, after he clarified. “Oh! Well, maybe?” She knew that crocs were expensive, but maybe she could either find a discounted pair or a knock-off brand and gift them to Alex. Andy knew that they had charms, too. She’d seen a girl with them once and had commented on the rainbow flag. The girl lit up like the fourth of July at being recognized. It made Andy feel good.

Andy rolled her eyes, a small smile curving at the corners of her lips. Ryan reminded her of Alex a little. Nothing in the appearance (clearly), but in their mannerisms. Alex was a little more cold towards people she didn’t know, but that came with the territory of what they’d been through. Andy was far more outgoing, and even it was a stretch to claim that she was at all. “You got me there. Maybe you should get one of those masks, too. Like at a costume shop.” She continued to look through the rack only to admit defeat a couple of seconds later. There was nothing else good that anyone in the house would appreciate. When Ryan asked for help after struggling to look over his own arched shoulder, Andy snorted. “Yeah, yeah.” She set her basket down and helped Ryan out of the jacket. She held it out for him to take after they’d gotten it off his arms.

“You should try to go smaller, I bet those would fit great. Like a kid’s shirt.” Andy picked her basket back up and turned her attention to a different rack– overalls, she could use another pair.

Having decided that perhaps one instance of being trapped for the day was enough Ryan found the empty hanger for the denim jacket again and hung it back amongst the other clothes. “As much as it’s the fashion I don’t think I could spring for a coat like that. Someone will have to bring back denim on denim without me until his next paycheck.” As he said this his phone lit up in his pocket. He pulled it out and cringed visibly, unable to smooth that over if she’d seen he spoke quickly so as to avoid suspicion. That had been Ray’s co-worker at the restaurant texting him to remind him of a swapping of shifts. Not one to completely ruin his host's life Ryan would have to give control of the body back as soon as possible to let the kid earn money. “Ah damn I forgot I had a shift at work.” Ryan explained quickly to Andy. Sliding the phone back into his pocket Ryan flashes her a smile. “Happy hunting? I’ve got to run. See you next time!”

Ryan didn’t wait for much of a response before heading for the door. If anyone watched him closely as he made his way down the street his whole body shuddered through a few steps before he blinked… or rather Ray blinked. He was dazed and confused looking down at the phone in his hands open on a text. Right. Work. Got it.

Andy frowned. “So much for the Canadian tuxedo.” She flicked through a few more items, watching Ryan out of the corner of her eye as he took out his phone. He looked visibly uncomfortable with whatever was reflecting on the screen back at him, but Andy didn’t think anything of it. “Oh–” She turned around to watch Ryan as he ducked out of the shop, not giving her any time to give him a send off. He was a weird kid and kind of funny. For once, she was glad that there was nothing inherently supernatural about him– it was easy to get lost in a conversation without the constant reminder that she was the predator and those around her were unknowingly prey. “See ya.” Andy muttered under her breath as she turned around to continue shopping.

#para: jirt and tie #para: ryan (ray)#memory loss tw #wickedswriting

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