#timaeuscreamsicle

[umbralabraxant]

>Frozen in Place

     You’d done as much to protect yourself as you could without your powers. You’d meditated and centered yourself, you’d imbued focusing crystals with positive energy, you’d lined your pockets with purified salts, you’d done everything you could to make this journey into your Home Universe as safe as possible. Shuck could feel your anxiety, and while he wasn’t the best at being comforting, you appreciated his gestures of ensuring that your Father could get nowhere near you with him by your side. 

Saro had wanted to come along but you hadn’t been sure of what was awaiting you at your Apartment and you didn’t want her seeing anything that might upset her. She’d told you she was fine, that she understood that you hadn’t been yourself the last time you were there. You’d voiced that this was something you needed to do alone. She hadn’t argued with that, or seemed offended, all she’d done was give you a tight hug and a chaste kiss to the crook of your neck before telling you to be safe. You’d promised you would be. 

     The Universes shift around you and before you know it you’re standing in your living room. The first thing that hits you is the smell: chamomile tea, cookies, and the warm dustiness of a large collection of books. Your mind reels for a moment as the space of non-linear quiet was lifted and the world began to seep back in. The unnatural silence of the room ebbs out and slowly the busy cars just outside of your New York Apartment start to hum and beep back into the current day. How strong had you been when you left here? You’d only known of this spell vaguely, it had been used to trap Azarath into a state of Linear Lock after Trigon’s Attack, it had been the reason there were Birds still there on your arrival despite the dimension being razed as a whole. Your arms fold across your ribs and you grip your arms above the elbow on either side. Shuck asks you if you were okay. You say yes, despite not knowing the answer.

“I just... need to gather some things. If you’d like to make yourself comfortable, I don’t feel anything wrong here.” You assure. With what you would call hesitance for the Monohound, he agrees and finds somewhere comfortable to scout from in your Living room. He doesn’t settle much, awkwardly perching on the edge of your couch with his hands folded between his knees, but he sits and gives you your space which is all you could ask for.

The first stop on the docket is your Bedroom. You wanted to gather books and clothes, possibly any kind of personal items that you’ve been missing for the past couple years. Few years? No, couple years, right? How long had it been since the last time you were in this apartment? You try not to think about it too much. There was no need to pick at that old scar, it didn’t need to be reopened. 

Your feet carry you towards your bedroom without a thought. However long it had been, you still remember this place like the back of your hand. You reach the doorway to your bedroom and go to turn the handle, but the moment your hand makes contact with the metal a stinging shock works its way up your forearm and makes you yelp out in surprise.

Shuck is already behind you in the hall, asking if you are alright. You laugh, nervously, and assure him that you are. The door was enchanted at some point to keep anyone but you out, but, as you explain, it wasn’t You that had done it. There was a great power of Trigon’s Influence keeping out trespassers but you lacked the signature of his energy to get past the barricade. Shuck asks you if you need assistance in getting through the door. As much as you want to say no, you confirm that you do. He attempts to assure you that he does not care what is on the other side of the door, that he is here to accompany and help and nothing more. You thank him, and in an instant you are bathed in the supernatural dark of your bedroom with Shuck at your side. 

He is about to ask if you need him to light the ethereal blackness before your finger finds the light switch and the bulb in the ceiling struggles to cast its illumination to the walls and floor. It’s dim from the magic here, but it’s more than enough to see with. You thank him for the interrupted offer, anyhow. He doesn’t seem to enjoy the thick miasma of Occult Energy in this room but doesn’t voice this outwardly. You don’t blame him one bit, it’s making even your skin prickle.

     As you step up to the edge of your bed to gain access to your bedside table, you can smell the ozone in the air and it makes you freeze in place. Your eyes are drawn to your bed, and for the briefest of moments you feel as though your gaze is going to be met with glowing cyan eyes, a hacking laugh, and a sharp-toothed grin. It’s not. The most evidence of him there is are a few scattered grey-blue feathers tangled in amongst your disturbed bedding and the crisp smell of Storms in the air. You’re not sure when this happened, but this does not bring back the pining it once had. This brings back a knot in your stomach, cold and hard and slimy, and brief flashes of intimate moments shared with him and a body that wasn’t your own that you can only recall through a disoriented haze. Your hand finds the edge of your blanket and you flip it up and over the unwelcomed reminders. Out of sight, out of mind.

The next fifteen or so minutes are you pulling luggage from closets, packing away clothes that were the wrong size for you now, packing away books and phials, gathering the bits and pieces of your life that you deemed important enough to bring home with you--

               Home.

That hits you almost as hard as the feathers had, but with much less shock and guilt. It still makes you feel uncomfortable, only because you had a lot of emotional baggage regarding that word. The alarmbells start going off in your head to abandon ship, to leave before you put Saro, or Shuck, or Iggy, or anyone in that house in unnecessary danger. Shuck seems to notice this spike and asks if he is allowed to touch you. Through your anxious stun, you say yes, and his body meets yours in a tentative embrace. Though you had never really been affectionate with him in any way, you let yourself melt into the embrace and his arms wrap themselves around your shoulders. His chest is solid and comforting as you press your face into it and you lose track of time while you ground yourself in the embrace.

     Eventually, you feel good enough to peel yourself from him. You thank him. He assures you that it was not a problem. He asks if you are okay. You don’t lie, you tell him that being here is taking a toll on you, but that you’ll be fine. He asks if you want to leave. You tell him that you think you can handle it now. Nothing more is said between the two of you in silent agreeance. He leans against the inside of your bedroom door, locking the toes of his foot into the ground and placing all of his weight on a single leg. You’re sure he doesn’t mean anything by his observant watching of you as you move about the room and you try your best to ignore it.

The rest of your room is packed up without issue. 

     The final thing you grab is your Mindscape Mirror, something that seemed so archaic now that you’ve lived the past couple years without the need to such deep burying of emotion. You run your thumb over its edge and the mirrored surface ripples like water. Your brows knit. It shouldn’t be responding to you without your power, but it was. Had you imbued it for some reason before you left? Your hand dips into the looking glass and it ripples like mercury around your wrist. The cold air on the other side is shocking, but soon your fingertips meet smooth and domed surfaces, two of them. Instantly you recognize them and you nearly begin to cry. Dreamy and Lumiere. Their capsules are retrieved and you hug them both to your chest for a moment. You utter a soft thanks to the you who had fought Trigon hard enough to save the last shreds of Jade you had. You’d cry if you weren’t already numbly burnt out from being in your apartment.

Now that you were inside the room, you could open your door no problem to leave. Shuck helps you carry one of your bags of luggage. They’re stored in the living room as you move about the rest of the apartment and grab a few of your knickknacks. Due to the Linear Lock, the tea in your mug in the kitchen is still warm from the day He had left it, still billowing lazy steam, and the kettle is still hot to the touch. Your thumb skirts the rim of the mug and smears the black lipstick thereon. It’s surreal.

The cup is dumped and washed after that, wrapped in one of the many newspapers that were piled on the interior of your front door from the mail slot. You quickly sort the mail, most of which is garbage due to your mostly hermitic lifestyle. Fliers, junk mail, the occasional ‘New Tenant’ alert for the apartments on either side of you with the Landlord’s number on it in case of emergency. The only thing that’s remotely important are bills, but they served more as receipts than anything with your auto-payment through your bank. All in all, there’s nothing in the haphazard pile of a couple years worth of mail that catches your particular interest.

     Once everything was organized and packed away, you returned to Shuck with the additional two or three knapsacks full of belongings. 

“Is the spell going to hold now that we have disrupted it?” He asks.

“It should. It would hold even if someone came through the front door, it’s imbued into the walls and floors of this apartment. It’s... going to be something to break when I eventually move out of here entirely. I don’t... have that kind of power on my own.” 

The pair of you set off with the mass of your belongings in tow. As the universe around you begins to shift and distort, you give a parting glance to your apartment, the place that held so many conflicting memories of comfort and upset; you look at the rings of coffee stains on the short table between the couch and the television, the half-crumpled throw pillows you used to lean on to look out the balcony, the slippers haphazardly cast aside and lying drunkenly by the foot of the sofa. As your eyes scan, they fall on the round mirror near the entryway to the kitchen. You make eye contact with yourself just before you vanish. You hold no expression.

Your reflection grins back at you.      The Universe tilts and Home settles in around you.                Shuck asks if you require assistance in unpacking.                           You don’t say anything. 

--You only nod.

[knowingoverseer]

> Show Time

⇒ Callie: Wake Up You’ve been knocked out for both what feels like ages and yet barely twenty minutes all at the same time. Temporal shenanigans were really doing a number on this timeline, it seemed. While unconscious the Rogue of Mind, Beatrice, had created a mental channel for you and Davara to work things out. She even brought Calandra, the Sylph of Rage, into your mental channel to try and emotionally steady you both. You were even privy to a little information on what had been going on, apparently Davesprite- Grey, had punched a Star and was really wailing on Lady Engl1sh! You’re almost sad you’ve missed that, but it’d probably have given you a heart attack to watch. You were ready. You’ve been waiting to wake up, figuring it would take until the Maid of Breath, Floretta, had completely healed you both to do so. So it came as a surprise when quite abruptly Beatrice forces you both to wake up. You sit up too quickly, wincing and immediately reaching out to Davara who was next to you. There’s a splitting pain still in the back of your head but it was nothing compared to what it had been just before you blacked out. There’s a ringing in your ears so loud you swear it’ll make you deaf if it continues. The first clear image you gather is of your moirail, their poor horn, and you grab for their hand. Pulling both of you up you finally look around. Look around to see why everyone was staring… why… why there was such a loud ringing in your ears. It was screaming. It was- ⇒ Show Time No. No no. Nope. No this wasn’t happening. You’re still loopy from the head injury. You’re not seeing things correctly. He punched a star. He lived. He’s going to be okay. He’s just getting the shit beat out of him. Nope nope nope. Aradia Pixies exists. No, nope, focus. Breath, focus. Davara. Focus. Dance. Focus. You still have an iron grip on Davara’s hand, and you turn to face them. You can’t quite form what you want to say, but the serious (painful) look on your face hopefully speaks enough for you. You hold out your other hand and let go of theirs. Time to fuse.

[neverendingpuzzlemurders]

timaeuscreamsicle replied to your post “WHAT HAVE I BEEN DOING? THERE IS A SHORT ANSWER. AND THERE IS A LONG...”

thanks for the update los fuckos i was starting to lose sleep

YOu’RE WELCOME. I KNOW THE CuRRENT STATE OF AFFAIRS REGARDING MY LIFE IS OF GREAT CONCERN TO YOu SPECIFICALLY.

[royalbidness]

....i'm. sorry, dear, um. timaeuscreamsicle, yes? ....well, hoo. he's dead. been dead roughly two years now. well, shattered anyway. i'm sorry.

hey uh nonny yea quick question boat dat

W)(AT T)(--E FUCK

[unanimouslyumbran]

greenhivegynotrope started following you

YOu ARE THE FIRST PERSON TO INTERACT WITH ME SINCE I LOGGED ONLINE ONCE MORE. SO. TELL ME. DO YOu KNOW A ‘KNOWINGOVERSEER’. OR. A ‘TIMAEuSCREAMSICLE’. BECAuSE THOSE ARE REALLY THE ONLY TWO PEOPLE. FROM MY LIFETIME AGO. THAT I GIVE A SINGuLAR SHIT ABOuT.

ALSO GREETINGS. I AM uMBRAN. FORGIVE THE QuIRK. IT IS LOuD AND ABRASIVE. 

[gehennaabsolute]

@timaeuscreamsicle While That Does Sound Ideal, As I Am Right Now Im Quite Overly Specialised In Offense So I Wouldnt Mind Mixing It Up Either.

[acicularate]

@timaeuscreamsicle liked your post:Update on my coif situation, I have removed enough...

Congratulations. As the first person to like/comment on this, you can now be the proud owner of the small hair person. Who doesn’t want their very own platinum mini cousin Itt?

[gehennaabsolute]

@timaeuscreamsicle Im Not Entirely Sure To Be Honest. Especially Since My Skillset Is Quite Fit For Battle And Long Periods Of Warfare.

[starcontessa]

timaeuscreamsicle replied to your post:timaeuscreamsicle replied to your post:wowif a...

also this is why i need to be a hermit take me into space so i dont have to deal with these shits

as soon as i fix the ship i can fly over 

[umbralabraxant]

>Your hands were sore from fixing your Meditation Room. The pads of your fingers had various cuts peppering their surfaces. Your healing hadn't kicked in, you assumed because they weren't deemed threatening enough. You toss the last remaining chunks of broken and corrupted jade into the bin beside you and get up from your knees. You bring your hands up through your hair which was still slightly damp, but nothing like it had been just hours prior.

You move from the room, hitting the lights witch on your way out and traversing the short hallway to your bedroom. The door pushes open silently and you dip into the dark room. Instantly your eyes glow, allowing you to see the room in a dim focus not unlike a cat. It made moving to your bed and perching yourself on the edge that much easier.

"...in all seriousness, though..it's orangejuice, right?"

You say as flatly as you can, smirking to yourself.

[gunkers]

timaeuscreamsicle replied to your post:i’m excited for the day im famous and someone uses...

dye your hair blue and you shall be human au ember

FRINE I HAVE DYED MY HAIR BLUE

[mariposapeixes]

@timaeuscreamsicle likes this what the shell man you see my blatant cry for attention and all you do is like it what the shell either ignore me or give me attention i cant have none of this middle line toeing the edge half committing typa shit

[starcontessa]

timaeuscreamsicle replied to your post:wow

if a john doesnt know why fucking up my shades is an issue coming from him then im not the one unfit for his own name jesus fucks

true tho

[knowingoverseer]

timaeuscreamsicle:

A figure in a trenchcoat and matching hat stood near the edge of the precipice that overlooked the rest of the candied planet. They were tall, to say the least. At least six or seven feet so. They were completely turned away from the door, and it seemed like every inch of them, sans the back of their head, was covered in some sort of article of clothing. Gloves, shoes, hat, scarf. The little bits of them that could be seen seemed to have a sort of sheen to them, unbefitting of any normal sort of figure.

“I’ll be honest, I had grand designs for my return,” the figure said rather bluntly. “I was going to come back, not reveal my identity, perhaps see how embedded I could become in your ranks.”

The figure looked over their shoulder, revealing a black, glossy surface where one’s face normally would be. A green light could be seen peeking out from within, but it was hard to make out what exactly it was.

“That was a number of months ago. I had anticipated that it wouldn’t take you over a year to get your little problems taken care of. Needless to say, I’ve lost patience with the lot of you.” Raising their hand, the clenched it into a fist, causing it to crackle with some sort of green energy. Almost like some form of intimidation tactic.

“So, if you don’t mind, I think we’re going to get things done before another year rolls around, Miss Callie.”

No, no. It wasn’t Lady Engl1sh. At first, and only at first, you think you might recognize the figure as Droog. Long since been missing, and it was certainly his style of dress if less suit-oriented. But no, that’s not the shine of a carapace shell. No, no no. That was the sheen of metal. And while the voice was.... familiar, it wasn’t Droog’s. No... no, it only takes a few moments after they began to speak for their identity to become apparent... It wasn’t Lady Engl1sh, and to be honest? You think you’d rather it have been. Standing there in the doorway, frozen, with your hand still on the knob. You’re not sure what’s more apparent, the tremble in your limbs or the sudden hammering of your blood pusher. Maybe the cold sweat? You attempt speech, but then they create, what you believe to be green sun energy, from their fist and you feel downright sick. You stumble back a bit, yelping, still holding the door. You look like you’re witnessing a nightmare come to life- and, admitably. You are. This is what you’ve plagued yourself with nightmares of. This. Right here. And then you slam the door. “NO!” Trembling like a leaf you hold yourself against it, willing yourself to wake up if you were in fact just having another nightmare. You produce your wands, and try not to freak the fuck out. “w-WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?” Your voice cracks as you yell through the door. “Y-YOU’R-RE S-SUPPOSED TO BE DEAD” Well honestly, it did take you a long time to really believe that he was. He was a machine after all. Oh god you hope Roxy is okay. You stand there with your heels planted into the carpet and your back against the door, trying to keep yourself together.