#tired of people showing interest in dating and suddenly blocking/ghosting me

[godofvillains-arch]

((Sorry for not answering discord. Not really in the mood to talk. Just pretty PO'd about shit.

[heliads]

Still Into You

Based on the request “Luke x reader based on the song Still Into You by Paramore?”

masterlist

Luke is leaning up against the wall, legs stretched out idly in front of him. His girlfriend is curled up on the bed next to him, lips pursed in thought as she considers the lines of music in front of her. They have the same habit of writing songs in worn and torn notebooks, of writing over and tearing out pages until the books themselves are reduced to nothing then reanimated with the sheer frenzy of their music. Luke likes that they have this shared trait, like it’s a sign that they were meant to be together ever since the start.

Y/N feels Luke’s eyes resting on her and looks up, blushing slightly. “I’m not very interesting company, am I? Sorry about that.” Luke just grins. “Don’t worry about it. You writing songs makes me think about songs, and that’s one of my favorite things to do.” Y/N smiles at that, leaning up to kiss him gently on the cheek before settling down again in front of her notebook. She squints at a line, then rubs it away with her eraser.

Luke glances down at the lines of music, but his head’s at an angle and he can’t read a single note. “What’s the song about?” Y/N flashes him a teasing grin. “It’s a surprise. You’ll find out soon enough.” She considers the main melody, adding a few notes as she goes. “I’m not quite sure if it’s happy or sad, not yet. It’s fast, and it’s fun to sing, but that’s all I’ve got right now.” Luke nods, leaning his head back against the wall and letting the faint sounds of scratching pencils and Y/N’s occasional humming take him back to the time he first met her.

Y/N was Julie’s friend, and had been her best friend long before Luke showed up. Luke smiles in spite of himself, remembering the first time he had caught a glimpse of the girl. Julie had been talking with Y/N in her room, and Luke had made a point of walking by so that Julie would be forced to introduce him. From the second Y/N had locked eyes with him, Luke knew he was head over heels for her. Even the way she said her name sounded like a melody, a pure and beautiful sound that Luke couldn’t write even if he tried for the rest of his life (or death).

Every moment spent with her was better than the last, every inside joke and casual conversation inspired him. It hadn’t taken Luke long to realize he loved her, and an even shorter time to ask her out. Luke laughs inwardly, remembering how nervous he’d been to first ask Y/N on a date. If ghosts had heartbeats, Luke’s would have been pounding so loud the entire town could have heard it. Luckily, she had said yes, and the rest was history.

There had been hard times, sure, but the good easily made up for the bad. When the business with Caleb and his club had finally come to an end, with Luke, Alex, and Reggie being able to finally touch people, Luke had practically sprinted over to Y/N’s house. She had looked up at him through tear-glazed eyes, having thought him dead, but her gaze quickly changed to happy shock when he had gathered her up in his arms, picking her up and turning in a lazy circle.

Then there were late nights with the two of them cuddled up close together, and early mornings with kisses pressed to cheeks, and date afternoons with hands entwined for all the world could see. If, you know, they could see Luke at all. It didn’t matter, though. Not with her. Not for anything as long as Luke had Y/N.

Luke is snapped back to reality when Y/N gently shuts her notebook cover, yawning. “It’s getting late. I think I’m going to go to bed.” Luke glances out the window, surprised to see that night had fallen and the stars were already shining through the dim patches of cloud. Luke stands up, stretching, then leans back down to kiss Y/N one last time. He says his goodnights and turns to go, pausing only once to look back at the girl he loves before disappearing back to Julie’s studio.

Luke is frustrated. He’s not sure why, but his blood is practically boiling. Maybe it’s because it’s been a long, stressful week, where he’s convinced himself that things have been good for too long. Caleb wouldn’t just give up, not like this. Something’s coming. It has to be.

Then there was the problem of Luke’s obvious ghosthood. It’s amazing to perform with his friends as a guitarist of Julie and the Phantoms. To play music again, in front of a crowd that can see him and cheer along as if he were just another lifer? It means everything to him. But for every stellar performance, there’s always that one moment when it ends. When the last chord is played and the drumbeats fade away to silence, when Luke finally disappears to the crowd. It just feels like a constant thorn in his side, a reminder that no matter how hard Luke works he will always just be a ghost, unnoticed by anyone except the rare exceptions.

Luke can’t stand to go inside the studio, at least not yet. He doesn’t want to be stuck inside again, in those same four walls with the same few people. So he heads out down the streets, walking casually down the sidewalk as if he were just another ordinary teenager heading home from school. He’s so lost in his surroundings that he almost doesn’t hear someone calling his name, and even then, it takes the person’s running footsteps that stop just behind him to convince Luke that they’re not just calling out to someone else on the street.

When Luke turns around, his frown turns into a smile when he realizes it’s Y/N. She looks amazing today, eyes shining with the bright light of the afternoon sun. She beams at him. “Look who’s out and about! I didn’t expect to see you here.” Luke chuckles, scratching the back of his head absentmindedly. “I figured it would be nice to get out of that studio every once in a while.” Y/N nods, then her happy gaze turns into one of slight guilt, as if she’d just realized something.

“Actually, about that. You remember how we had that date planned in a few days?” Luke nods. He’d been really looking forward to that. The two of them had decided to visit the boardwalk again, and stroll up and down while taking in the wind and the waves and all of the shops that dotted the faded horizon. Y/N winces. “Something came up unexpectedly, and I think I’m going to need a rain check. This honor society at school just announced that they’re meeting at that time, and I can’t skip it. I’m really sorry.”

This should just be a normal occurrence, something that Luke can brush off with a smile and an understanding nod. Yet for some reason, he feels his previous anger start to bubble up again inside of him. “Really? At that exact time?” Y/N nods, looking to all the world like a girl utterly distraught at the news. “It was supposed to be later, but they changed it. I didn’t have a say in it, but I can’t miss the meeting.”

Luke frowns. “But we agreed on that date. I mean, we’ve been talking about it for a while now.” Y/N glances back at him, evidently surprised at his tone. “I don’t have a choice about this, Luke. I can’t change the meeting.” Luke looks back at her. “And what, we can definitely change this?” Y/N raises her eyebrows. “I thought so, yes. It would be super easy to just move it to be the next day.”

Luke shakes his head. “Can’t do it then. I’m spending time with Alex and Reggie.” Y/N furrows her brow. “You spend time with them literally every day. Can we not have our date then?” Luke stops walking, suddenly exasperated. “Your meeting is important and so is this.” Y/N turns to face him. “Why are you making such a big deal out of this? I’m literally just asking if you can put off talking to your friends for a couple hours. I don’t think that’s very hard to do.”

Luke folds his arms across his chest. “Of course it wouldn’t be hard. I’m a ghost, after all. Everyone knows that ghost problems aren’t nearly as important as your problems.” Y/N looks taken aback. “That’s not what I’m saying at all! What’s up with you?” Luke stares at her pointedly. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m just tired of feeling unimportant.” Y/N holds up her hands in front of her. “I never said you were unimportant. I’m just confused as to why you think me not being able to make it to one date is equal to an entire argument.”

Luke feels himself getting irritated, and tries to put on a calm face, but all hopes of salvaging this are out the window. “Well, we wouldn’t want you to get too upset about this. How about we just cancel the date? All future ones too, for that matter. It would be too bad if I interfered with your schedule.” Y/N looks horrified, but Luke’s already poofed away, leaving her standing alone and in shock on the sidewalk.

It’s barely been a few hours, and Luke already feels bad about everything. Did he really just say all that to Y/N. And over what, a schedule change? But if Luke knows one thing about himself, it’s that his pride is too big of a stumbling block to overcome. He can’t bring himself to go back and admit that he was wrong, even though he knows that he very much was. So he waits, and waits. A day passes, and then another, and then another. Y/N avoids him the entire time.

After a week, Luke feels crushed by guilt. He’s made a terrible mistake, and he knows it. Why did he have to be so rude just because he felt bad about himself? The other boys have picked up on his bad mood, and try to be extra nice to him. That just makes Luke feel even worse, like he’s upset them too.

Luke’s lying on the sofa in the studio when Julie appears in the door. She knocks twice on the door, alerting him to her presence, then walks in. She comes to a stop in front of Luke, handing him a flyer for a band performance at her school. Luke takes it, frowning. “What’s this about? You think we should do something like this?”

Julie shakes her head. “No, I think we should go. It’s for Y/N’s band. She’s performing, and we should be there to support her.” Luke sits up, looking at his friend. “Y/N doesn’t want me there. Trust me. I messed up things with her big time, and the last thing she wants is to see me in that crowd.” Julie sighs, perching next to Luke on the arm of the sofa. “I would disagree. I think this is the perfect time to get up the courage and see her again.”

Luke is more than hesitant at first, but Julie talks him into it through a combination of calm advice and emotional blackmail. What would you do without friends? So, Luke drags himself out of Julie’s studio and towards Los Feliz High School, regretting his decision the entire time. What if Y/N’s already moved on? What if she really doesn’t want to see him there, and his presence will just make things worse?

Luke wants to turn and leave a dozen times over, but Julie and the boys are there with him, forcing him to stay. Luke follows them into the crowded gymnasium, where he can see a stage is prepared and ready for the upcoming performance. Just as Luke is seconds away from talking himself out of the entire thing, the lights dim and a voice comes over the speakers, announcing Y/N’s band. So this is it- no backing out now.

Y/N and a few of her friends walk on stage, waving to a cheering audience. Y/N is the lead singer, and grabs a guitar from a stand before taking her place in front of the mic. She flashes an easy grin to the crowd, then starts playing.

Instantly, Luke recognizes the song. It’s the one she had been writing all those nights ago, when the two of them had been at her house and everything had been perfect. It’s just like she described- fast, certainly. He still can’t decide if it’s happy or sad, maybe reminiscent or hopeful, even. Then she gets to the chorus, and Luke feels himself lean forward involuntarily as Y/N grabs the mic, singing directly into it as if she were speaking to him herself.

‘Cause after all this time

I’m still into you

I should be over all the butterflies, but I’m into you, I’m into you

And baby, even on our worst nights

I’m into you, I’m into you

For the first time all night, Y/N turns to look directly at him. There’s a twisting feeling in his heart as Luke realizes exactly what the song is about. Him, and her, and everything that went wrong. It’s funny- even as the full extent of the hurt Luke has caused Y/N hits him, he still feels his heart swell with relief. She still loves him, even after all this time and all this heartbreak.

Some things, some things just make sense 

And one of those is you and I

Some things, some things just make sense

And even after all this time

I’m into you

Luke’s heard Y/N sing before, in quiet rooms and empty streets. He’s seen her on stage too, felt goosebumps as she performs with that same captivating electricity every time. But he’s never felt anything quite like what he feels right now, this combination of relief and guilt and love, sheer love, that rocks him to his core.

Before he knows it, the song is over. Y/N and her band perform a few more songs, all excellent, and then he realizes that they’re starting to step off stage. Instantly, Luke poofs away to the hallway just backstage. He opens a door that leads outside, making sure Y/N sees him go, and stands there in the slight chill of the night.

He doesn’t have to wait long. Luke’s barely been there a minute when the door swings open again, revealing Y/N walking towards him. The door has barely closed behind her when Luke moves towards her, crashing his lips onto hers. She looks up at him with this startled smile, reflecting his own teasing grin when he pulls away. “Y/N, I’ve been such an idiot. I messed up. I don’t know what I was thinking that afternoon, but I regret it all. Of course it’s not a big deal to move the date time, and I don’t know why I thought it was.”

Y/N considers him for a moment, a light smile playing on her lips, then speaks. “It’s okay, Luke. Julie tells me you’ve been miserable this whole time, so I knew you didn’t mean it.” Luke frowns. “Julie said what?” Y/N laughs. “She made sure to tell me so I didn’t feel bad.” Luke’s about to say something about how he’s sure Julie has no idea what she’s talking about and he’ll be speaking to her later, but Y/N grabs his hands, pulling him close. “Don’t say anything to her. It was what I needed to hear.”

Luke stares at her for a second, weighing her words, then breaks into a grin. “If you insist. Oh, and by the way, you killed it out there. You were amazing.” Y/N smiles up at him. “You think?” Luke kisses her cheek. “I don’t just think, I know. Loved the first song especially.” Y/N laughs, the quiet sound somehow making the darkness of the night brighter, like the sunrise came a few hours early. “I’m glad to hear it. I’ve been working on it for a while and it just felt right.”

Luke grins, kissing her again. Of course it felt right- it was the truth, the unspoken truth that both of them had been dancing around this entire time. No matter what, the highs and the lows and the worst of the nights, they still loved each other. That’s the way it would always be.

[the-hilda-librarians-wife]

Silver Lining

Summary:  My sketchbook twist on what happened in the episode The Storm while Johanna was alone in her car. You know, technically, it could have happened...

Inspired by something I said in this rewatch post

Notes:  Okay so originally this was going to be something very different with lots of obliviousness and mutual pining, but then it hit me that outside of the angsty hell that is The Mistakes We Made, I have no established relationship fics??? Time to fix that. Also I wanted to jump into the “librarian and Johanna were secretly dating during season 1” bandwagon before season 2 comes along and crushes our dreams.

Read it on ao3

The art supply store had been deserted, presumably because of the storm raging outside, which seemed to only get worse by the minute. Uneasy over the weather, Johanna’s shopping was quick, and she only bought what was absolutely essential, even though she promised herself to come back some other time.

She couldn’t fathom what was happening that day. Even in the height of winter, it never snowed like that in Trolberg, not as far as she remembered. It could be one of those freaky effects of global warming, she supposed, but it still was weird that it had happened so suddenly.

Returning home was not an option. The roads were completely blocked by heaps of pristine snow, and she’d certainly catch her death if she attempted the walk back, thus why she’d called Hilda. She’d wanted to tell her why she wouldn’t be returning home so soon, but knowing her daughter as she did, she also found it wise to warn her not to leave the house. Just in case she had any grand ideas.

After putting down the phone, she looked around only to realize that the stores were all closing, turning off their lights and closing their curtains. Johanna could see where they were coming from, seeing as no customer would face this storm for things like art supplies or doughnuts, but she had hoped at least one of them would be available for her to stay inside and make use of the heating. Seeing no other option, though, she returned to her car.

Her cellphone had no signal, and she was sure that that, too, was due to the weather. The supplies she’d bought weren’t enough for her to get ahead on her work, or even to doodle, so she was stuck with people-watching to pass her time. Everyone she saw looked like they were hurrying somewhere, and Johanna silently wished good luck to each of them, even though she knew that they would only be able to go so far before being forced to find somewhere to stay immediately.

None of the anxious faces she saw evoked more than a brief memory from her, either people who frequented her favorite cafe at the same time as her, or perhaps people she’d helped during her time working at the hardware store. Until one did.

Johanna recognized her colours before her face, because even though she was looking down at the ground, stepping carefully on the snowy street, her black clothes and purple hair always gave her away. She was curled in on herself, apparently clutching something to her belly to protect it from the snow.

Her house wasn’t nearby, Johanna knew this. The only reason she was outside at all was because of the weekly coven meeting that the witches of Trolberg did every Sunday morning. She must have been caught abruptly by the storm when she was already on her way.

Feeling icy wind on her face as she opened the car’s door, Johanna waved her hand in the air and tried to shout to get her attention.

“Maven!” Though she knew the woman to get lost in thought while she walked, Maven heard her right away, and a look of recognition overtook her face when she glanced at the yellow car. “Come here, you’ll freeze to death!”

There was barely a second of deliberation before the librarian crossed the street and headed for the passenger seat. When she opened the door, Johanna was already sitting down again, and she helped herself inside the car.

“Thank you, Anna.” She said, incredibly relieved that Johanna had been there in the exact moment she’d needed her. “You just saved me.”

The smile Johanna gave her stole her breath, making her feel warmer in spite of the freezing cold she’d just come out of. She always had that power of making the room feel like it was filled with a light so strong that it seeped all the way into Maven’s heart, and it was one of those things Maven knew she’d never tire of.

“Well, I’m glad to be of help. How was the meeting?”

Maven shrugged, opening her coat’s zipper to get rid of the icy garment.

“It was alright. Harvesting season is coming closer and we are planning on blessing the crops nearby.” She said, throwing the coat on the backseats. “Heavens know they’ll need it with this storm. The elders also warned me that they’ll be coming to the library this week with a group of children who showed gifts to the occult arts. You know, to teach them about the path. So I guess that will be interesting.”

The most intriguing topic on the reunion had been, by far, the concern over a group of kids who had caused a commotion in the cemetery. One member of their coven had recently made contact with a ghost, only to find it unwilling to help her ‘because of the human children of their town that had been disrespecting their eternal slumber’. Maven had to admit that she’d had to make an effort not to laugh when their spirit worker told this story, but unless she had a death wish, she should not let Johanna in on this. It wasn’t lying, she told herself. It was simply not snitching on Hilda. Besides, since Johanna wasn’t a witch, Maven shouldn’t even be telling her any of that to begin with.

“What about you?” She asked, trying to shake the ghosts away from her mind. “What are you doing out here in this storm?”

“Oh, I came for art supplies.” Johanna pointed at the shopping bag on the backseat. “Wasn’t quite this bad when I left home. I wonder what on earth brought on this crazy weather.”

“Oh, weather spirits undoubtedly.” Maven said as she took off her gloves, rubbing her hands together for warmth.

“Weather spirits?”

“Yes, I can sense they’re the ones behind this. Besides, the coven has been observing some very unusual weather spirit activity in town. We could be here for a while.”

Looking worriedly at the sky, Johanna only noticed that Maven was offering her something when she all but shoved it under her nose. She blinked, picking a cupcake up on her hands. It was still warm and exhaled a sweet apple scent, with cinnamon and sugar sprinkled on top of it.

Maven’s left hand was inside a paper bag, which Johanna assumed was what she’d been trying to protect from the snow when she’d been outside. After taking another cupcake, she folded the bag closed.

“One of the witches made too many cupcakes and brought them to give us. Very convenient to have them right now.”

“Oh, that smells lovely.” Johanna said. “Are you sure you don’t want to take it home for yourself? I’m not going to starve if I have to wait a few more hours to eat.”

Maven smiled right before taking a bite of her own cupcake, shaking her head fondly in exasperation.

“I’m your girlfriend, Johanna.” She said when she finished chewing. “If I don’t feed you, who will?”

Johanna rolled her eyes playfully as she brought the cake to her lips, humming in satisfaction at the sweet taste. Along with seeing Hilda happy and with new friends, her newfound relationship with Maven was what made her be thankful every day that they’d moved back to Trolberg.

“So, these weather spirits.” Johanna began while each of them focused on their sweet. “Any idea of why they went haywire?”

“Hard to tell, really. They’ll pick fights with each other over anything, but for a storm this strong it has got to be an enormous gathering of them. I honestly don’t know what could have caused this, but one of the elders specifies in weather magic. Maybe he knows, I’ll ask him about it when he goes to the library with the initiates.”

Frowning, Johanna felt herself getting more worried.

“So there’s no way to know when this will stop.”

“I’m afraid not.” Noticing her girlfriend’s unease, Maven tried to catch her gaze, but Johanna seemed to look everywhere but at her. “Anna? Are you okay?”

“I’m just a little worried about Hilda.” She answered. “She’s alone at home with Alfur. I told her to stay put, but even so… she’s just a kid, and if anything happens, she has no way to talk to me.”

“Hey.” Maven put a hand on Johanna’s shoulder, trying to ground her to the moment and not leave her to imagine every bad scenario she could. “I know I don’t know her like you do, but from what you’ve told me she’s a smart and brave little girl. She’ll be fine. If you want to worry about anything, I’d suggest worrying about us at the moment. We’re due to become icicles any minute now.”

Johanna chuckled, grateful for Maven being with her in that moment. She always seemed to know what to say to make her feel better.

“Yeah, you’re right.” She sighed, relaxing the weight of her body against the seat and taking one more bite. Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw that Maven had taken a pen out of her pocket and was now scribbling something on the paper bag the cupcakes had been on.

“I’m not kidding, if this storm gets any worse I don’t know if the car’s heating will keep up.” She said when Johanna shot her a questioning look. “I don’t have many sigils memorized, but luckily Ruth packed a heat one with the cupcakes. I’ll just activate a few and we should be fine.”

Indeed, on top of her tight there was a small paper square with a doodle in it, which Maven had already copied three times on the bag, and was now doing a fourth one. If Johanna saw that symbol and no one told her of its meaning, she’d wave it off as some sort of stylized drawing of a spider, or perhaps of a flame from a certain point of view, so she was glad to be with someone who knew better.

After finishing the drawings, she put the pen aside and began to carefully rip the sigils from each other. When she had the four pieces of paper, she pressed the first one against her window and recited some words that Johanna couldn’t recognize. Listening to witch language always felt singular to Johanna, like even though she’d never learned it, something deep inside her felt awake when she heard it, like it was in her blood. She’d asked Maven about it once, receiving the answer that this wasn’t an unusual feeling. The language of witches is the language of the Earth, which we’re all part of, she’d said. Johanna couldn’t say in all honesty that she’d understood, but it had seemed to make sense to her girlfriend so she hadn’t pressed any further.

When she removed her hand from the glass, the paper had disappeared, and only the symbol remained on the window, shining with orange light as if it was on fire. Then, it vanished leaving no trace on the window.

Johanna continued to stare at where the sigil had been while Maven maneuvered herself to the back of the car to repeat the process with the back windows. Magic never failed to leave her astonished.

It registered on the back of her mind that the car was indeed getting warmer, especially when the librarian activated the third sigil on the window behind Johanna’s seat. After Maven had done that too, Johanna felt her put her elbow on her seat, near her neck, leaning the other against the passenger seat. She was kneeling on the car’s floor, practically by Johanna’s side in the gap between the two front seats. The look she was wearing immediately gave away to Johanna that she wanted to talk about something.

“Anna, I wanted to ask you…” She began, proving her right. “When do you think it will be okay to tell her about us?”

“Her?” Johanna frowned.

“Hilda, I mean. Obviously I’ll understand if you want to keep our relationship just between ourselves for some time. But what do you think she’ll think of me?”

Johanna opened a smile and leaned towards Maven, kissing her cheek. When she retreated, she had to bite back a giggle at how flustered her girlfriend looked.

“Hilda will love you.” Johanna answered honestly. She’d admittedly thought about how Hilda and Maven’s relationship would be, and she was afraid, just not the way one would expect. Her fear was that they’d get along a little too much and Johanna would have to run after them every other day, trying to stop them from getting killed at the hands of a magical creature they’d attempted to befriend or a spirit they’d summoned. Though it was possible that there would be some unease between them at the beginning, the thought that they wouldn’t see eye to eye didn’t even sound possible to Johanna.

“The only reason I haven’t told her yet is because she seems to have a lot on her mind right now. Some trouble with her friends, I think, but she won’t tell me yet. But it’s a conversation I want to have with her as soon as she’s alright again.”

Maven looked away from Johanna, now feeling silly for having asked. It wasn’t like her to be insecure like that, but this truly mattered to her. Whether Hilda approved of her or not would be decisive for how far she and Johanna would be able to take their relationship. Besides, if Johanna told her daughter about them, then that would mean that she took their relationship seriously, so she couldn’t help but care about it.

At least Johanna hadn’t taken it the wrong way, her pursed smile as she put a stray lock of Maven’s hair behind her ear telling her that her girlfriend was probably very amused. She could practically hear Johanna calling her ‘adorable’, stopping herself from doing so only because she knew how Maven didn’t like being called cute.

“I’m… very happy to hear you think so. And I hope whatever is troubling Hilda gets solved soon.”

“I do too. Are you done with your sigils already?”

Between her fingers, she was still holding one last piece of paper, and she flickered her wrist so that it was in front of Johanna’s eyes.

“There’s one more, but I’ll need your help this time.”

“How so- oh.” Before Johanna had time to wonder in what way she could possibly help Maven with magic, her girlfriend had already deposited herself in her lap.

Johanna wasn’t one to blush often, but she was certain the heat on her cheeks was not because of the sigils.

“Just keep this up. I only need to activate this one near your corner of the car.”

Maven then pressed her palm with the sigil to the window, repeating the incantation. This time Johanna was distracted by more than just the magic, in a way that she barely noticed it when the casting was finished and the car was filled by cozy warmth.

“That’s good.” Maven said, approving her own work. “I can go to my seat now, if you want me to.”

Realizing that she’d abstractedly put her arms around Maven’s waist, interlacing her fingers near her side, Johanna shrugged and then caught Maven by surprise by learning in to kiss her lips sweetly. It would have been a very romantic cenario, snug with her love while snow piled outside, if only they weren’t there because they were trapped inside a car due to a mysterious storm. Still, she was with Maven and she wouldn’t have it any other way.

“I don’t want you to go anywhere, dearest.”

_#_#_#_

Maven did go back to her seat eventually, but it was only because Johanna remembered a deck of cards that she kept in the glove compartment and after some time they decided to play something. It didn’t take long at all for the librarian to realize that she was pretty bad at that, but seeing Johanna’s childlike joy every time she won a match, she couldn’t even be annoyed.

Safe and sound inside the car, the storm hadn’t really been on the forefront of their minds. The magic kept them comfortable and the flow of people running from the weather outside was all but nonexistent at that point. But they did realize when the few rays of sunshine that made it through the thick layers of clouds became stronger.

Both of them put their cards down, the change so noticeable that they wanted to get a good look at what had happened. While Maven only lowered her window and stuck her head out, Johanna stepped out of the car to look at the sky.

“At last!” Johanna sighed with relief as the clouds became smaller, making a gap just above them.

From her side of the car, Maven was more interested in another thing she’d noticed than in the changing weather. Either her eyes deceived her, or a thunderbird was flying away at that very moment. What it had been doing in the middle of that tempest was anyone’s guess.

However, they were soon startled by the booming sound of thunder, and watched in stunned silence as one of the remaining clouds seemed to swell unnaturally, darkening at each moment that passed. Johanna closed the door by her side just in time to not get hit by the first drops of water.

They were static while they watched the rain pour down, not believing in the situation even though it was happening right in front of their eyes. Stunned by the abrupt turns, a laugh escaped Johanna’s lips, and soon the absurd picture that she made, laughing like a madwoman while monstrous rain surrounded them made Maven break into giggles as well.

“Well dearest, I think we’re going to be here for even longer.” She said after she had gathered herself enough to form a coherent sentence.

Picking up her girlfriend’s cards as well as her own, she began shuffling them together.

“In that case, I would like a revenge match.”

“Alright, but I warn you that you’ll regret it.”

Huffing in feigned outrage, Maven began distributing their cards, and the ones that were left she put to the side.

“In the end I’m glad, you know.” Johanna said after they began their match, making the librarian frown at her. “For the storm. If it weren’t for that, I wouldn’t even see you today, let alone spend some time with you.”

“Me too, Anna.” Maven smiled. “Me too.”

[definealetheia]

Note to self when I feel like I'm going insane (unfinished)

STOP OVERTHINKING!

Sit back, relax, and take deep breaths.

Listen to chakra tune up meditation music. Unblock your chakras and let the energy flow through your body.

Don't intentionally block your heart chakra. Stop suppressing your feelings, whether it is good or bad. You have to deal with them and heal your wounds. The more you suppress your feelings, the longer your agony will get.

Do you still have doubts about the connection?

Remember that you have already let go of the label Twin Flame. The question whether he is your Divine Masculine or not is not important anymore. The Universe may or may not give you the answer after all. BUT you can honor what you feel is true. You love him. This is your truth. You don't need the Universe to tell you that.

It is okay to doubt the connection sometimes. It is normal to experience doubts and fears in this journey. It is scary and full of uncertainties.

I don't get why other twins refer to someone they meet as "catalyst" who will activate your awakening and you believed as your twin but ended up as otherwise. Same logic goes for false twin. I don't get it. I don't think there is a false twin or a catalyst. That person is either your twin or not. Why would you need a catalyst to activate you? Your twin can do that himself. It doesn't make sense to me. People who started their spiritual journey even before they met their twin were awakened due to several possible reasons. May be because of traumatic experiences or they come from a spiritual background. As for those who were not awakened until they met their twin, I don't understand why the person who activated them ends up only as a catalyst. What for? You will only recognize that person as a catalyst once you meet your true twin. And then it would be like you're restarting your twin flame journey with your true twin! Wth.

Remember the reasons and synchonicities that lead you to believe he is your twin.

He activated my spiritual awakening.

It was August 29, 2018. I met my twin online right after I graduated from grad school. I finished another milestone in my life. I finished a job contact and ready to start a new life. I was optimistic about the future. I've been single for years and thought it would be nice a start a new one. But I didn't want to start a relationship just for the heck of it. I wanted to find the one. I've been saying this to the Universe for a quite some time. I might have manifested it when I met your twin without knowing it.

I've been suffering from MDD and GAD for years. I was in medication and went in and out of hospitals after every suicide attempt. For a long time I was suffering from an existential crisis. I did not know who I am or why I am alive. I did not have dreams of my own and was just living to fulfill the expectations of my family and society. I did not have any goals nor did I have reasons or motivations to pursue anything except meeting others' expectations of me. I needed to finish school and establish a good career, help my parents, and then have my own family. As good as those things were, I did not have the right motivation to do that.

I have always felt I don't belong anywhere. I was bullied in school and even at work. It made my depression even worse. Everywhere I go, terrible things always end up happening. I always felt uncomfortable, unsafe, and being wronged by people. I felt unlucky and miserable all the time. Everytime I try to turn my life around and gain a little hope, terrible things happen and that little hope I had get taken away from me.

I was never religious nor spiritual. Having a master's degree in Philosophy, I have an extensive experience on critical thinking and being skeptical. I don't label myself as agnostic. In fact, when it comes to my spirituality, I refrained from associating myself from any religious group or any spiritual belief. However, during one Philosophy class where we talked about religion where some of my classmates studied in Catholic seminaries, I remember sharing that I don't believe in (Christian conception) God but I do believe that there is someone or something, maybe it be metaphysical, divine, or a force that governs everything in the Universe.

I have always had the affinity to look at the sunset and the night sky. I has been part of my routine. My childhood dream was to became an astronaut or astronomer. But life happened. Part of my routine was talking to the Universe while watching the night sky. Whenever I feel suicidal I always tell them that I don't belong down here. I want to be among the stars. That's where I feel I belong, not here. I talk to the stars as often as I can. They saw me cry and all. They let me know they are listening by showing me shooting stars. I even saw asteroid Juno and other comets during one of my nightly routine. It always feels magical when they show me how beautiful the Universe is.

Recognizing the soul connection

I have been interested in Japanese culture and martial arts. I've been practicing a japanese sword martial arts since January 2017. Since I wanted to learn the language, I installed a language exchange application on my phone and that's where I met him. To be honest, I was open to the thought of possibly meeting someone online but I did not realize that I would actually meet someone like him. I met men who were more interested in flirting with me than learning another language. That's very common online. But I was not interested in them but when I met my twin, I did not know that from then on, my life will turn bat shit crazy. I was just following ramdom people on the app but I also made sure they did not look sketchy or suspicious. He followed me back. He suddenly commented on a picture I posted of me and my cat and then he sent me a private message. My first impression of him is he was very flirty and straithforward with giving compliments, unlike most Japanese I talked to who were polite and unsure of themselves. When I looked at his picture, I immediately felt something different about him especially when I looked at his eyes. But I couldn't put my finger on it. I never felt anything like it before. I felt like I knew him. There was a sense of familiarity and comfortabilitily. We started talking on Line, sent audio messages, and even talked on video call for hours. He send messages when he wakes up, goes to work, while working, coming home, and before sleeping. It like was a honeymoon phase of a relationship. I told myself it was too good to be true.

I needed to know more about him so I asked him if he was single. He wasn't. I felt like a bucket of cold water was thrown at me. He was still flirty and acting like there's more to us than acquaintances. But because of that reality check, I kept asking myself where I stand. Sometimes he treats me like a girlfriend all then all of a sudden he acts like a stranger. When the conversation gets hot and he becomes more flirty than normal that's where I remind him that he has a gf and I don't want to be in a third party. He told me they haven't talked for a while and he felt lost. I felt worse. I felt like he was just bored and wants to use me to fill in the void. Since I knew I was falling inlove, I made it clear to him that if he wants to continue talking to me like we are in a relationship, then I want to be only one. There should be no other woman. He couldn't give me an answer. He always dodged the question to the point that I get frustrated and just drop it. Add the language barrier to the mix. During one of our arguments, I kept asking him how he really felt about me and his answer was that he wanted to meet. I did not expect that answer. Even if I agreed to that, I reminded him that he has gf and he just told me they hadn't talked.

When he came back to Japan from one of work trips, that's when things went downhill. He used to give me updates on where he was or what he doings but that time I did tell me he already came back. His messages became short. Sometimes just one word. It's obvious he didn't want to be bothered or he just didn't want to talk to me. There were even sarcastic messages. It was my cue to leave him be.

We stared with talking to each other all day everyday until it became more and more seldom. There were days when he wouldn't talk. Then a sudden message after days of silence. I did not chase him or beg him to talk to me. But I once told him how I sad was that he changed. I was crying a lot. My heart got broken so many times. October 2018 came and after over a month of the honeymoon phase, he finally ghosted me.

Kundalini awakening and rising

I became more and more depressed and desperate for answers. I kept asking the Universe: Why did this happen? What was the point? I closed myself off for years and stopped dating after experiencing traumatic relationships. Right when I finally decided to take a risk, open my heart, and love again, this happened to me? I did not understand the point of it all. Letting another person in and then he just breaks my heart? This was the last chance I gave myself to love and this shit happened. Before I met him, I told myself that if I ever meet someone and fall in love, it will be the last time. I want to me the one. I am tired of being hurt so many times.

I was so confused. I was hurt, angry, and frustrated. Wanting to find the answers, I started watching tarot readings on Youtube. I never believed in Astrology. I was too skeptical for that. But I watched hundreds of readings out of desperation to find the answers. I got mixed result on the readings. There were times that the readings resonated so much that my mind was blown so many times. But there were others that just made me more confused and paranoid. The best takeaway from those readings is that divine timing is at work. I have to trust in the Universe and give them space to work things out. I can't force things to happen. The only thing I can do is set healthy boundaries and don't let anyone treat me like a doormat.

I spent the next few weeks just watching readings, crying at night, and trying to cope with the pain. The readings said that there will be communication and it did happen. By the time happened, I literally said "this shit is real." I was surprised that he messaged me and asked how I was. But after the inital shock, I was overcome by anger and hurt. He wanted communication just when I was starting to gain balance and not think of him that much. I was torn between telling him off and just accept that he is back. I replied 2-3 days later telling him I'm doing good.

The communication started again but I was seldom. He called me on 11/11 but I couldn't answer. He just randomly sends a message after a few days of silence and or calls all of a sudden and then disappear again. So flakey! I got fed up and set my foot down. I asked him why he wants call or talk to me. He said he always wanted to call and enjoys being with me. I called out his BS. I reminded him that he stopped talking to me. He can't just come in and out of life as he pleases. He should stop playing mind games with me. He just said to me "Oh don't say that 😭." I told him I deserve an explanation and tell me why he disappeared. He said he did not disappear. I told him it hurts me that he's not being honest with me. He said he was being honest. See the pattern here? I asked him again what happened and he just answered "I don't remember." That was it. I told him I'm a very patient person (I'm a fucking Taurus okay) but he pushed me too far. I won't ask anymore. It's obvious he didn't wanna answer. I'm done.

I was livid. I'm done dealing with a player and emotionally unvailable jackass. That's the start of our separation. It was 11/12.

I spent the rest of November dealing with rollercoaster of emotions. One moment I'm angry, and them I'm in pain, and then lonely ect. It was a torture. There were times when I went into relapse. I thought I have officially gone insane. I just wanted to die.

The first time I came across the term twin flame was through watching tarot readings. I never heard of the time before even when I met my twin. I wasn't interested in learning more about it at first. All I know was that it was different from soulmates and it was rare. I have never thought of myself as special (just different) so I did not think I needed to know about it. But curiosity got the better of me and finally decided to do some research. Lo and behold, I resonated with most of the signs that were listed. The things that happened to me made more sense now. But that was not enough to convince me.

More and more meditation music started appearing on my youtube suggestions. It was December when I finally decided to try a guided meditation. It's my first entry. I felt the urge to do it more and more often until I came across a meditation to awaken my spirit. Before this entire journey I would never think of trying it but since I have been activated, might as well continue on improving myself. I played the music when looking at the sunset. When I came to opening the third eye, I started seeing particles in mid air. They look specks of light or little transparent bubbles floating around. As weeks went by I seem them clearer. I don't even have to concentrate or be in meditative state to see them. I see another invisible layer in my environment as well. I see rain or drizzle even if it's not really raining. I also see "rain" and particles even indoors now. As long as there is light. I tune up my chakra almost everyday. I don't feel right when I don't meditate in a few days.

10/13/2019 ~ 2:41 PM (this has been saved in my Drafts since Jan/Feb -- I'm not sure anymore)

[stareiiez]

Flower Petals and Blood

Leonard Church x Female Reader

Hanaki Disease AU

Wow, very hella late update to my series but hey! Its never too late for good ass angst. Also my inbox is still open for requests so pretty please send those in!

Not even did a handful of days pass once the black armored man, sorry bitch man, arrived at the blue base. Of course, you knew to never speak out against her, since she had this team by the balls in her right hand and the team flag in the left. Whoop dee fucking do, your eyes could roll to the back of your head from that mental image. If only you were transferred to Project Freelancer, instead of this shit hole, you could come back just as Texas but maybe your training could leave the female shitting in her own armor. The intimidating aura the woman gave off seemed to fuel your mood into nothing but negative, or stoic, hell you even tried to get along with her. Although nothing worked out, 'girl talk' resulted in her claiming the blues as her own and if you were there just to prove your place on the team she'd knock your ass in the ground. That talk left you with an itching trigger finger as a grated out 'yes ma'am' scraped out past clenched teeth.          

The sun seemed to taunt you with its bright rays that seemed to tan your legs to a crisp underneath the fabric of torn up civil jeans, that were fashioned into haphazard shorts. The warthog's radio hummed its overly played Spanish polka song through scratched speakers. Oil dripped on your cheek before it was cleaned away with a bright red rag that was looped lazily on the underside of the puma. Vehicles always seemed to be broken around the blues, or reds, but you didn't seem to mind. Being alone with your mind focused on just vehicles while Church, Tucker, and Caboose were clambered up on the cliffside. Humming under your breath, to the song, the wrench was tossed out the side of the puma before you yourself scooted out from underneath the vehicle. Grease and other fluids had stained the dark grey tank top you wore, but hell, command gave you too many clothes to go out and waste. Clothes, spare parts, supplies, and the occasional shore leave option came by every two months.

"You'll be purring for sure no like a large cat now." You told the clean four-seater. Moving to the driver side, you turned the keys in the ignition on. In a second the engine purred and rumbled like a happy cat laying in the sun.

Proud of your handy work, you turned the vehicle off. A nice sounding vehicle always brought you happiness. It brought images of you driving this thing in actual streets with the radio blaring old songs that you would sing along to. Maybe you'd have a shotgun rider who's be singing along with you, and acting like a complete fool with you, while you forever cruised down an endless black pavement into the future. Frantically, you shook your head. The shotgun rider had contorted into Church, his stupid smile infecting your brain while his sky blue eyes gazed at you with adoration in their orbs.

"Stop it." You scolded yourself ignorant of your own mind.

Your chest seemed to squeeze painfully at that blissful wonderland. Like your own organs were retaliating and voicing their own pain. It never seemed to hurt as much as you used to woefully mourn over the male's heart captured and locked away by another. The music of the warthog dimmed a little while your ears rang faintly, were you even breathing at this point? A hand rose to rest on your chest to check, the erratic heartbeat calmed you slightly yet the sting of oxygen deprivation made that fade. Drawing in lungs filled the air, you winced from the slight strain. A frown creased your brow, while your hand turned into a loose fist. A few light beats on your chest and the strain eased with a few coughs. Oxygen pulled in freely like there was nothing blocking your airway now.

It was nothing, you convinced yourself. It was possible you had gotten sick with some alien virus. As if nobody was sick in the last three months, except for Caboose. He came down with a small head cold that ended up almost frying his brain at high temperatures. Doc managed to help him breathe through the high fevers after the course of a whole week and a half. A virus couldn't hang around for that long right? Were his lungs hurting as much as yours was?

Your hand rubbed your chest in small circles as if that would ease the stress of the pain that plagued the vital organs. The music that the warthog played soon eased back into your once numbed senses and brought the Spanish polka music to a close with the press of a button from your finger. The silence was golden until the prick of the man who caused you so much pain and confusion was seemingly 'haunting' right over your shoulder. Great.

"What do you want Casper the little shithead aren't you supposed to be burning in hell?" You bit out with a slight venom laced with your words.

"Can't a ghost of a dead guy show up to watch over his-" A hesitation in his voice hurt more than that pain in your chest ever could. "Teammate." He finished.

"You aren't-" Fuck, you can't come right out and blurt it. Flowers would be rolling in his grave as well as all of Project Freelancer. Hell, even his freelancer buddies who were running around would slit your throat if they reached you.

That's if they were still around, how many years has it been since the Project fell? Three years? Maybe it was less than that word about those 'scary guys with guns' was a topic you all avoided.

"I am dead, you idiot, my grave is right where you're standing. I guess I just have unfinished business here so God, or whoever won't let me rest." Church groaned out tiredly as if a ghost could actually be tired.

"Right, so why bother my ass again?" A brow rose unamused brow upwards.

"You know how ghosts can 'possess' people like in those out of date movies?"

"Right? And?" Your voice trailed off, although the idea was very clear to you now.

"I need to test that out." A scoff cut him off and he rolled his eyes behind the visor of his helmet. "It's just for research plus I'm bored so hurry up."

As if it was more of a demand than a suggestion you crossed your arms over your chest and let out a drawn-out sigh. "Is that the only reason?"

"Well, Tucker did say that I've been in you in more ways than one so." Church crossed his arms over his chest, his ghostly figure drifting a few more steps to you.

"Ah! That's enough Church. Just shut your mouth and hurry this bull shit up." You cut him off before your arms uncrossed and spread out to the sides.

With a smirk, the 'ghost' charged at you and sunk into your skin. The force was enough to actually lose your balance and move back a few steps. Your breath was lost and your brain spazzed out like you were having one hell of a seizure. Every organ seemed to shut down and then restart, under his control. It felt like someone pressed the restart button on your body, but you never had the controls anymore. Instead, an idiot had the controls and he was taking advantage of it.

"Holy shit!" You heard him yell in your voice that was slightly altered to form a combination of both deep and smooth sounds. "It worked."

Church fist pumped, well you fist pumped, in the air before a grin formed on your features. While Church was walking and talking to himself, and feeling your body, your subconscious was shoved to the very reaches of your mind. It was all black surrounding you and the echo of the outside world set your nerves on fire. Anxiety never bothered you but now you could feel the familiar squeeze of uncomfortable feelings snatch your throat in its maw.

"Church! Enough is enough get out." Is what you wanted to say, but you doubted your mouth could even form words right now. It was like you were too tired to even move.

The sensation of your 'lover' being inside you was suddenly exhausting for an odd reason. Your heart ached at the sensation. You could feel his presence, almost imagine would his 'warmth' spread through our whenever you were laying side by side in bed with him. Rants of every day were something you related to, and it was the most interesting part of your day. Your eyes squeezed shut, the ache in your chest returned with a vengeance and luckily an A.I couldn't feel pain, your pain, but they could sense what wasn't right. That was this time. His fun and games of yelling/flirting with a Tucker who was still stuck o the cliff was ceased immediately and his presence was no longer there. The reset button hit you again and only this time it hit you with relief if it wasn't for the series of coughs that slipped past your lips and landed in the square of your elbow.

Your name was repeated softly from his mouth until the coughs ended in six seconds and your lungs hurt. Your eyes shot up and landed squarely on his golden visor.

"You good? What was that?" Church placed, or tried to place, a hand on your arms yet instead, it passed through your cheek.

The action made you wince inwardly, as well as physically. The move brought the pain to squeeze your lungs until it ached with the intention to freeze your organs into cold blocks of ice. You felt cold and overall panicked.

"I really don't know but you're not helping me. Get Doc, before I pass out from stress or pain." Your teeth grit together while your eyes narrowed menacingly. The look caused his figure to stiffen and then blinked out of existence with a quick nod of his helmeted head.

Screams for Doc in Red Base as well as Sarge's gruff voice echoed from the canyon. You would smile over the arguing of Church and Sarge, while the screams for Doc rained over the conversation, but right now the pain was too much right now.

You damned hoped that Doc would move his grape ass to you because the suffocation would settle in from how shallow your breathing was.

"Please, God, let it just be the flu."

[thelonelyrainbowguy]

My ASD Testing Experience

I promised that I would write up a post about my autism testing, so here goes. (And yes, I am SO counting this toward NaNoWriMo!)

When I arrived at the practice, the psychiatrist who I’d seen for my initial intake appointment took me back to her office and told me to pull a chair up to the desk.

The first task she had me do, after attempting to make small talk with me (which I am TERRIBLE at and crashed and burned, lol), was to arrange foam puzzle pieces to fit a pre-drawn puzzle. She gave me three pieces (it clearly called for like 9) and I placed them, then expected her to hand me more, but she didn’t until I asked her for them. I guess that kind of confused me. I saw notes in her file for me that mentioned a “confused expression”, and I think it was in reference to that.

Afterward, she took out a book and informed me that it had no words, that we were going to make up the story. I’m a good writer, but making up stories on the spot and telling them aloud is incredibly difficult for me.

The book was about these frogs whose lilypads suddenly started floating, and pretty soon these freaking frogs were zooming all over creation. Instead of telling a story like a story, I just pointed out things that I saw. “Those fish are like WHAT THE HECK and that turtle looks pretty pissed, and the frogs are still flying.” Yeah, it was a weird story.

Then she brought out a bag of very random objects, and informed me that we were each going to pick five of them and use them to tell a story, which was even more foreboding than the idea of turning the story of the wordless picture book into English.

She went first, with a sponge, a cocktail umbrella, a feather, a shoelace, and... I forget what else. Her story was about Mama Umbrella, her kid Spongebob, and Baby Feather. They went to the beach, and the mama told SpongeBob to watch Baby Feather. But he was annoyed with watching her and went off and did his own thing. Then Baby Feather crawled into the ocean and SpongeBob threw a rope (shoelace) in to save her. Mama Umbrella was really mad but she was glad her baby was okay.

I had no idea what to do so I stared at the items in the bag for a good while, until a morbid story came into my head and it was the only thing that I could think of. I used the car, a paper circle, the feather, a wooden block, and a toy dollhouse candle.

“Okay,” I said, “so there's people driving down the road in this car, and then the wife goes “I think I’m gonna light your birthday candles on the cake now, because that sounds like a great idea,” so she did, and then a bird (represented by the feather) distracted the driver and made him run over a pothole (the paper circle) and slam into a wall (the wooden block).” Cue lots of spitty explosion noises (jk I just said they exploded). So yeah, I’m sure that heightened her image of me a good bit. XD

We talked then about the trouble I’m having at work, how I keep getting told off for not being empathetic when truly, I am (usually- I mean there are LOTS of people I deal with who are just plain annoying/dumb). My tone does not sound kind enough, even though I’ve been trying.

She asked me about my dating life and I updated her on the nonexistence of any type of relationship prospects and how the last girl I dated ghosted me (she hasn’t texted me since November 1, if anyone's wondering).

She asked me what a friend was, and then she asked me what the difference was between a friend, and a co-worker. Well, that was tough. I told her I guessed co-workers I thought were my friends were just my favorite coworkers, because I never saw them outside of work?

She then asked me how emotions felt, and how I knew I was happy, or angry, or anxious, or sad, and made me explain examples of times when I had felt these things, and asked whether I thought other people felt the same things. She asked me if I had ever been picked on or bullied, and sadly, I had to tell her that my family were my worst bullies growing up. I told her how there were certain noises my siblings would make that really bothered and hurt me, and how they’d deliberately make those noises over and over just to watch me and laugh as I’d get tenser and tenser and finally run from the room, usually crying, to have a meltdown in my bedroom.

After all this, she was done with me, and I went back to the waiting room to wait for the IQ test guy. I’d never met him before, so it was hard to look at his face, but I don’t think he ever smiled. And when I’d try to make a joke he’d just stare at me in this analyzing way. I didn’t like him.

His office was tiny and plain and felt dingy, and he had some sort of white noise sound machine going, which bothered me but I couldn’t figure out how to say so. He said he hoped it didn’t bother me, but in a way that made me feel like it would be a huge inconvenience if I told him that it did.

The first thing he had me do was to take these blocks that had two red sides and two white sides, and the remaining two sides were divided into half red and half white, split into triangles. First he gave me four and showed me a pattern, and I had to recreate that pattern. I guess he thought I was capable after that because he gave me the rest of the nine total blocks and show me more and more complicated patterns that I had to recreate. I’m ashamed to say that there was one I almost didn’t get, because I legitimately forgot that I could turn the cubes. I was looking at them and thinking that they were all half red and half white, but I needed solid red and solid white. I told him I couldn’t do it, that it was actually impossible. I thought it was a trick. He asked if I wanted to skip it, but at the last second I remembered, oh, these things have different sides. :P so obviously I recreated it pretty quickly from there.

After that exercise, he asked me some math word problem questions, which I had to figure out in my head, without paper and pencil. At first they were easy, but then the questions got into asking basically what 15 percent of 60 is, and I almost said it was 15, but caught myself and guessed 10 (probably still wrong; I don’t even know how to do that with a calculator).

Then he had me repeat sequences of numbers. It started out simple: 2, 4. He gradually added one number art a time until he reached... I think the highest any of these went was 8 numbers. 5, 9, 2, 4, 3, 2, 6, 1. I’d repeat the numbers in order. After that, he had me repeat his sequences backward- so 3, 7, 8, 5 would be 5, 8, 7, 3. This was more difficult, especially when he got up to the 8- digit ones. And finally, he made me put the number sequences in order, but there were often multiples of the same number, which was Super Confusing. It wasn’t too hard up until the 7 or 8 digit ones, but then it started getting really impossible to remember all of the numbers: 4, 7, 9, 2, 6, 2, 7, 8 for example. I’m pretty sure I only said 7 digits for at least one 8 digit one, and I had to start over on several of them.

Finally, we were done with that awful task, and we moved on to the fresh hell of a book of shapes. The top half of the paper showed a shape, and the bottom half had 6 different shapes that I had to put together to make the top shape. The catch was, it always had to be 3 of the shapes- i couldn’t pick 2 that also made the same shape. It had to be 3, and they could never overlap. At first it was pretty easy- a square, a house shape, etc. Then they got more complicated - like one had a blue octagon inside a yellow triangle inside a red square. And they got more complicated from there on out, in the ways the shapes were divided. For example, there was an oval and the pieces were cut in such a way that the middle piece resembled a butt with crooked arms. And in many of the advanced ones, all or many of the options were similar, so you really had to be able to pay attention and visualize it, which was difficult, especially after my brain was wasted from all the other stuff.

At last, we finished that, and he gave me a self- assessment test for autism. The possible answers were 1 (Never True), 2 (Sometimes True), 3 (Often True), and 4 (Almost Always True). It was one of those fill- in- the- dot things. The questions were things such as I feel most comfortable when I am alone, I behave in ways that seem strange or bizarre to others, I get upset when there are a lot of things going on, When stressed I show rigid and inflexible patterns of behavior, I have good personal hygiene, I think of other people the same way that I think of objects, I am extremely sensitive to certain sounds, textures, or smells, I have a narrow range of interests, I talk or think about the same thing over and over.

When I finished that, we were done and I got to go home. I have a feedback session scheduled for the 11th, where I’ll actually get my diagnosis.

Overall, the experience was weird and tiring. I felt analyzed, which was obviously what was happening, and it made me kind of squirmy. And I felt patronized, which was just plain annoying. I went along with everything though, and I think I proved my autism, so now I’m just waiting on my official diagnosis so I can tell the world and actually have it as a reason why I can’t do or handle certain things (not an excuse; that is a different thing altogether, just saying).

Anyway, I’m sorry this was so long. If you made it to the end, here, have a virtual... I don’t know, brownie, cookie, hug, pickle, whatever you’d like to have a virtual version of. XD

If you have any questions about any part of the process, please feel free to ask me! ❤️

[samingtonwilson]

Into You - Jim Kirk

Summary: jim’s so into you, he can barely breathe. very loosely based off into you by ariana grande (listen and watch here, pals. it’s one of my favorite music videos).

Warnings: language, a lot of sexual tension (not smutty)

A/N: what the fuck even is this fic? 

The commissary lighting was always harsh. It highlighted the smallest of pores and made them seem like canyons, it took the most even skin and made it look splotchy, it ruined the smoothest outfit and made the minuscule wrinkles take center stage.

Yet, somehow, Jim managed to make it work. His blue irises would take the unforgiving light and reflect it back as if the home of thousands of stars and, though the tiny creases on his skin were visible, you thought you’d never seen something so smooth, so soft, so velvety. Even the bright mustard yellow of his uniform looked appealing under the white glow.

Your chin sat atop your hand, your elbow on the table as your gaze found it difficult to waver even a little. You traced his every feature even though he sat tables away, your head tilted and a small smile pulling at your lips.

There was a moment of terror when his eyes found yours. Your breath hitched, your stomach sank and flipped. You cleared your throat as you tried to focus on Uhura once again, watching as her mouth shut. “I’m sorry. What?”

“Oh, nothing,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand, wearing a frown of consideration that quickly began to look like a smirk. “I was just telling you a story about a stupid, stupid engineer that daydreamed about their commanding officer they’ve only gone on a few casual dates with. You know, on the Farragut before Nero destroyed it.”

“Very subtle,” you laughed, stabbing a piece of pasta with your fork. You stared at the tubular noodle and tilted your head once more. “Is it not too soon to just nonchalantly mention the Farragut that way?”

“It’s how I grieve,” she replied, reaching over to take some of your pasta for herself. 

She snickered as you clicked your tongue and attempted to chase her fork away with your own. She took a bite of victory and said in a thick voice, “And subtlety isn’t my specialty when I have to watch you undress Kirk with your eyes whenever he’s in the room.”

You tried hard not to smile back, failing miserably when she snorted in amusement at her own statement. “I can’t believe I’m sitting here gawking at Jim Kirk. God, I feel like one of those stupid ass moths in the summer. You know, the ones that fly into fluorescent lights to their literal death just because the light resembles the moon? Jim Kirk is a fluorescent light, I am a moth, and I can’t stop flying near him because his giant ass head reminds me of the moon.”

The amusement over her features seemed to only grow. “He does have a big head, doesn’t he?”

“The biggest,” you agreed, nodding and laughing. You looked down at your plate again, moving the remaining bits of food around the white dish so it left a wet trail. “I don’t want to casually date him anymore.”

“What, he not live up to expectations?”

You shook your head, meeting her gaze again. “He destroyed them. I mean, I knew he’d be good but I didn’t think—” you sighed and shook your head once more. “I didn’t think it would be so hard to breathe every time he just looked at me.”

She frowned. “You’re in pretty deep.”

You nodded. “Yeah, I’m swimming with the bottom feeders at this point, Ny. I’m a fucking flounder.”

“Some species of sharks are bottom feeders.”

You narrowed your eyes. “So you’re agreeing that I’m a bottom feeder, you just think the fish I chose was the wrong one?”

“Sharks are more badass than flounders— I’m trying to boost you up.”

“Oh, yeah. I feel totally uplifted now.”

Her smile was close-lipped and small but you didn’t notice as you’d already let your eyes drift past her shoulder, staring at the perfectly styled blonde hair and perfectly curved smile over his lips. Your chin found your palm again, your head tilting again.

When his eyes met yours this time, though, you didn’t look away. Of course, your lungs felt constricted and you suddenly forgot if breathing involved one inhale and one exhale, or two short inhales and three long exhales, or four legato inhales and one staccato exhale.

You managed to nod upwards, a corner of your lips quirking up.

He smiled back and you thought the action might have made his eyes even brighter. “You done?” he mouthed and you tilted your head questioningly. He repeated it.

You glanced down at your plate and decided you were done. You nodded at him. “You’ll take my tray for me, right?” you asked Uhura without even sparing her a peered glance.

“Yeah, yeah.”

You nodded once more and his smile grew as he nodded towards the exit.

You sighed dramatically and rose from your seat, smoothing your uniform down with a laugh of explanation sent to Uhura when she shook her head knowingly. You walked slower than your normal pace, struggling to keep a smile at bay when a restless Jim stood with his shoulder leant against the doorway and made a show of waiting for you.

You didn’t let your footing falter as you approached him, continuing your gait out of the mess hall and keeping your eyes pointed ahead of you. You inhaled as deeply as your lungs allowed— which wasn’t nearly deep enough once you caught the scent of peppermint to your right. “Captain.”

“Lieutenant,” he greeted with a single nod, keeping pace with you. He clasped his hands behind his back as he walked beside you.

You could feel him stealing glances. “Did you want to discuss something?”

The smile pulling at his lips won over his desire to keep his expression as neutral as yours. “No, did you?”

You looked over at him for a moment and shook your head. “Nope.”

It was a game the two of you had been playing since the morning you woke up in his bed, still tangled in his sheets and still feeling the ghost of his lips against your skin. Neither of you wanted the “casual” label, neither of you were interested in seeing other people, in even entertaining the idea of seeing anyone else. But neither of you said a thing. One day you’d ask if he wanted to say something, the next he would ask you. No one admitted anything.

You were growing tired of it, tired enough to break first. You didn’t know if he found the game amusing or if he genuinely had no intention of taking a step forward but, with each passing day, you got closer and closer to rolling the uncertain dice.

You stood beside him in an empty turbolift, you chewed on your bottom lip.

He was leant against the right wall, facing you completely and not hiding his stare in the least. He watched as your mouth opened, lips poised to say words he’d been preparing himself to say since that morning. “I’m not interested in continuing this ‘casual’ nonsense. I want something real.” He almost laughed at himself for the way his voice sounded. “With you. I want something real with you.”

You looked at him from the corner of your eye and shut your mouth. You shrugged a shoulder wordlessly.

“You could say something.”

You shrugged again, walking out when the door slid open. You knew the way to his quarters and listened to his footfalls behind you, smiling to yourself. Oxygen was difficult to come across when you could feel the warmth rolling off his body just inches behind you and you wanted nothing more than to have his hands against your skin so maybe your lungs would give you a break in relief, but you wanted him to sweat it out. You wanted to milk your victory for all it was worth.

You stood at his door and waited for him to enter the code. You leant your shoulder against the adjacent wall and nodded upwards when he looked back at you.

He looked uncertain.

You wanted to smile and alleviate his tension but let it play out until you’d followed him inside. You grasped onto his wrist with one hand and set the other on his chest before using all of your strength to push him against the wall. You stared into wide eyes that stared into yours, your lungs almost gave up at the sight. “You made me wait long enough.”

He let out a breath, shaking his head. “That was terrifying.”

You nodded, leaning forward to press your lips against his right temple, his left temple, down his left cheek, against his hard jaw, under his hard jaw, against his neck as he swallowed thickly.

“Don’t do—” he paused to take another breath. You were jealous that he had such an ability. “Don’t do something like—” he paused again as your hands trailed down his body until you could grab his hands and place them on your hips, squeezing so he tightened his grip. “Don’t do something like that again.”

“Okay,” you replied against his neck, biting down on his skin and feeling it leave your teeth as slow as possible. You tried not to smile at his gasp, your tongue gliding across the reddened skin to sooth it a little.

You felt him swallow, his Adam’s apple bobbing against your lips as you guided his hand to your uniform’s zipper. Maybe breathing was just as difficult for him as it was for you. “I should’ve said something earlier.”

You nodded and felt him drag the zipper down, his fingers brushing against every bit of skin he exposed. Your lips trailed back up, pressing against his jaw once more before you stayed mere centimeters from his own soft, parted lips. Your eyes met his, your nose barely brushing against his. “Yeah, you should have.”

You could tell he was about to reply, placing two of your fingers atop his lips to stop the words. You shook your head. “I love listening to you, I really do. But if you want something real, I suggest ripping this godforsaken uniform off of me and keeping the conversation to a minimum.”

Normally one to cause the flustering and keep his own hidden, he couldn’t help his widened eyes, his shallowed breathing, his tightening grip. He almost whimpered when your fingertips moved from blocking his lips to tracing his lips with a feather-light touch. “Is that blackmail?”

You smiled a little, your fingers skimming down to his chin and grasping it with a gentle force. You tipped his head to you, your lips brushing against his delicately as you asked, “What did I just say about keeping conversation to a minimum?”

He swallowed once more and shook his head to himself. He took hold of your hips and, as swiftly and gracefully as he could, spun the two of you around so your back was against the wall instead. He smiled at the widened eyes, the shallowed breathing, the tightening grip you hand on his upper arm. He leant forward this time, his lips pressing to your right temple, your left temple, down your left cheek, against your jaw, under your jaw, against your neck as you swallowed thickly. “Sorry. You were really killing me there.”

Your eyes fluttered shut, one staccato breath in. “Good.”

His smile grew and he lifted his head to look at you again, your eyes opening to find blue staring back at you. “A little hard to breathe?”

“Only whenever you’re around me.”

He frowned in consideration, his hands sliding down your body until he found the backs of your thighs, lifting you so you could hook your legs around his waist. He was still smiling, only smaller now. “There’s another thing we have in common.”

“You know, if we did what I was pushing us toward, we’d be having sex right now instead of talking.”

“I like talking.”

“And there’s something we don’t have in common.” You sighed and gently shook his shoulders. “You just asked me to make this into something real and I wanted to show my appreciation but here you are, talking.”

“Maybe I don’t want this to be about me,” he said, staring towards his bed as his hands gripping your thighs tighter. He dropped you onto the mattress so you bounced a little, looming over you milliseconds later. His eyes looked darker somehow. “Maybe I want this to be all about you.”

You nearly growled in frustration. “Then for fuck’s sake, shut up and touch me.”

Thankfully, he listened.

[happyk44]

Remembered some old OCs from middle school and suddenly got the urge to write them up. The main they hung around always changed so spliced this guy together from the others.

Stress sank in between his shoulders. He slumped against the desk. Flicking through his list of conversations, he tapped the last one. The timestamp bloomed back at him. He glanced at the date.

Two weeks and a half.

He exited out of the conversation and sat back. Beside him bloomed a familiar apparition. Golden light, the angel locked his arms behind himself. “You could-”

He got up and threw himself out on the bed.

Alexander peered down at him. “They’re probably just busy. Maybe you could say something.”

“Nothing to say,” he mumbled into his pillow. Weariness sank deep into the etches of his back.

“Send something?”

“Isn’t that what fucked us into this in the first place, Alexander?” Miraged from the shadows, Clown gave a wicked smirk. “Sending things? Talking? Trying to attempt a friendship with a person so very much uninterested in testing one out with you? Him? Us?”

Em groaned and curled into a ball. “Can both of you shut up?” 

“I have a point, kid.” Clown threw down a cigarette butt and squashed it into the carpeted floor. “Face the facts, they only liked you because you were flattering.” 

Alexander twitched. The feathers on his wings spasmed gray. "Why are you here?" 

Clown gestured widely. "To ruin things. As is my job."

“Your job is to haunt little children’s nightmares,” Alexander hissed. “And this one’s not asleep.” He scowled. “Nor a child.”

“Yeah, but he’s fun.”

Alexander scowled. “Em-”

Clown cut in. “You befriended someone on a platflorm they used to escape reality and when you became real, they needed to escape you too.“ 

Alexander shook his head. “That’s not true and you can’t prove that it is.“ 

“And you can’t prove that it isn’t.” Clown steadied Em with a hard look. ” Look, kid, I just wanna help you out here because the longer you cry over this, the less time you sleep and the lower quality of nightmares I get to give.“ 

He pushed a hand through his hair. “If she had any interest in talking to you, she would’ve. If she was concerned about you, she would’ve said something. People vanish to do one thing. Move on. And that’s what your fucking chubby ass needs to do.” He grabbed Em by the jaw. “Stop waiting for someone who does not give a shit.”

“Hi, Em.” Jack dangled between them. His face split. “What’s up?”

Em wrenched his face out of Clown’s hands and fell back. “Could you stop with the face, please?”

Jack blinked. His face stitched back together, one vein, one muscle at a time. “Sorry.”

“Someone’s having a crisis again,” Clown muttered, fishing another cigarette from his pockets.

“That’s, like-” Jack paused, counting on the tips of his fingers. “Five times this month!”

“Down!” Alexander yelled. His wings fluttered agitatedly. “Down from thirteen last month! We’re doing good.”

“You’re doing good,” Em correct, burying his face into his pillows again. He waved haphazardously at the two behind him. “I dunno what they’re doing but it’s not good.”

“Hey, I am a neutral participant in this ride.” Jack collapsed from the air onto the floor. As he rose to his knees, his face flickered again, caught split down the middle in a half-scream. “Alexander’s my reason for being here. I go where he goes.”

“Face, Jack!” Em snapped, swiping his hand through Jack’s face.

Jack blinked.

It did nothing.

Em scowled and rolled over.

“You have other friends,” Clown snapped, lighting the end of the cigarette. “You have other options. You think this fucker is sitting around all miserable and lonely because you are? No! They’re enjoying life without you. Starting doing the same, yeah?”

Steeling him with a volatile gaze, Em pointed at them. “Don’t fucking smoke in here, you jack ass.”

Clown peeled the cigarette from his lips and exhaled a ring of smoke into the air. “Fuck you,” he said before putting it back into his mouth.

“Maybe she’s just busy. Two weeks? She’s probably just moving back in,” Alexander said, patiently, perching himself atop the bed. His wings fluttered up, blocking Clown’s entire presence, half-phasing through Jack.

“Yeah, but if he’d never said anything, it’d been, like, a month or something,” Jack said, prodding a statue of a horse. He jerked back when it moved.

“You’re not helping,” Alexander hissed through gritted teeth.

“Neither are you,” Clown snapped. “Why the fuck would you want him to stay friends with this kid?”

Bursting golden bright, Alexander swirled on them. “She makes him happy!”

“So do cats!” Clown pinched the bridge of his nose. “And an hour of happiness between weekly spells of overwhelming misery do fuck all in this situation.” He pointed at Em. “Jack’s right, you fuckup. If you hadn’t spoken a goddamn word about it, she wouldn’t have said anything, she wouldn’t have fucking bothered. You stopped for three days and she didn’t care. Why in the goddamn world would you think she’d care now?”

“STOP!” Alexander’s wings dropped, heavily crashing into the floor. The house shook. “She cares. She’s just busy!”

“Too busy for a check-in? Too busy to say hello?” Clown shoved Alexander. “It’s only been two weeks since he stopped talking. It’s been more than a fucking month since she’s said anything!”

“It’s been three weeks!” Alexander protested.

“A FUCKING ONE SENTENCE JOKE DOES NOT COUNT AS A CONVERSATION!” Em screamed. He punched the dresser beside him and swore violently.

“You feel better now?” Clown laughed.

“Fuck off!” He wrung his hand to his chest and winced. Thickly, he swallowed. Te world around him grew small and tight. He sighed. “It wasn’t a conversation, Al. It doesn’t count.”

“But-” Alexander wilted. “She said something.”

“It doesn’t matter. Clown’s right, I have other friends. People who actually talk to me and want to get to know me.” Em pressed his uninjured hand to his forehead. “I just- I thought this one might actually go somewhere. And she- she made me happy. I liked her. I thought-” He wilted into himself. “I dunno, I thought she liked me too.”

“It could’ve gone somewhere,” Jack said. He flopped out at Em’s feet. “Maybe it did. Somewhere. Sometime. A thousand light years away.”

“Look, kid, the fact is she said it herself. Time and again. If she were interested in changing herself, she would’ve tried.” Clown exhaled, smoke filtering out of his mouth, ashy and twisted. “An attempt over the course of the week is not the same.”

“Didn’t your parents fail to keep trying after a week?” Jack asked. He frowned. “They kept being mean after just a couple days, right?”

Em fell back. “Yeah. They did.”

Jack frowned deeper, the split in his face drawing further down until it cut above his lip. “Why would you want to be friends with someone like your parents?”

“Hey!” Alexander swatted Jack’s head. “She’s not like his parents. She’s just-”

“Uninterested. Stop pining after a person who doesn’t have any interest back, fuckup,” Clown said. “Isn’t that why so many people hate the trope?”

“I’m not pining,” Em grumbled.

“You’re wasting time on someone pointless either way.”

“Maybe I’m just wasting time in general,” he huffed. “And I don’t really have anyone do I? I have my real life friends, who I only see in the confines of work or school, both of which are done with by now. They don’t really share any of my interests.”

“But they like you and they listen to you about your interests because you do the same,” Alexander pointed out. He smiled, brightly bright and golden. “Isn’t that what friends are for?”

“Which, by the way, Angel,” Clown sneered, “goes to show how much she put into you. Do you think she knows anything about your favourite things? What you like?”

Em rolled over, ignoring them both. “And there’s Corrie. She’s great.” He rubbed his jaw. “But she just-” He sighed. “-complains a lot. About the same things. And when I complain about anything it somehow turns into being about her and her troubles. But she’s nice and I like her and we share the same temperament so it’s worth it, I guess.”

“Look, the important thing in both scenarios, is that they actually talk to you and check in when it’s been too long and like you.” Clown snapped his fingers. “This kid did that early on, shit happened and suddenly you became a thoughtless memory. You think you exist outside your conversations? No. You don’t.”

Em stared at the trail of ants leading from the crack in his window to just behind his dresser. “I’m tired.”

“You’re always tired, shithead. You have depression.”

“And anxiety!” Jack called out from the closet. “Also there a lot of weird bugs in here!”

“Why are you in the closet?”

Jack poked his head out through the door. “I’m bored. You guys got it handled so what am I for?”

Em rolled onto his back. “Jack.” The ghost lit up. “What do you think?”

Jack phased out of the closet doors, frowning. His face was surged together neatly but a hairline fracture against the skin peeked from the very top of his head. “I think you should do what’s gonna be best for you. If you want to talk to her, you should. If you know it’s not going to lead anywhere, then don’t.” He shrugged. “At the end of the day, you’re still a kid. There’s no pressure on you to settle down and only deal in people who are going in the same direction as you. You hve time.

“But-” Jack crossed his arms behind himself and sighed. “-you know what you want, you know what you need from people right now and if she can’t fulfill even the basics, then what’s the point? She said she couldn’t but that she’d try and then she did for a day and half and then she stopped. You don’t have to deal with that, if you don’t want to.” He dropped his arms to his side and grinned ruefully. His body glitched and his face cut open again, smile half broken. “You have enough to stress about, why bother adding more?”

“But maybe she’s just-”

Jack cut his eyes at Alexander, who went mute, face pinched annoyed. “Whether she’s busy or not, he’s already said to just pitch in once a week. We asked for the minimum, she couldn’t provide. Why stick around for someone who can only deal with what’s in her immediate surroundings?”

“He’s got a point, Al,” Em muttered. He fell to his side, pillows exhaling air like they were living. “And I’m tired.” He rolled over to his stomach and buried his face into the cool side of his pillow. ”If she wants to talk to me, fine. I don’t have the energy to deal with someone who doesn’t care.”

“Excellent!” Clown clapped his hands togehter rapidly. “Okay, man-eating clown or violent eldritch horror of darkness?”

Em yanked his ppillow over his face and huddled into the middle of the bed. “On the other hand, being miserable stopped the fucking hallucinations.”

“Are they really hallucinations if you only see them in your mind when your eyes are closed?” Jack asked. Alexander pulled out his sword and cut through a messy mound of black goop rising out from under Em’s bed. Jack stared at the hissing goop and cleared his throat. “I’m gonna go stamp down the barriers.”

Em jerked as a sudden hand tore through his stomach. He glanced down at his chest and saw nothing but the image remained, follow by a succession of sword dousing up and down through his throat. He squeeze his eyes shut and rolled over. “I hate everything.”

[iamwhelmed]

For Whom the Bell Tolls: Chapter 1

I’ve had this story, and its sequel, outlined for over a year now. I’m so, so happy to finally post the first chapter. Only a few people knew about it, actually. This isn’t the Special Project (which I promise you, is still coming!), but it is the story I mentioned that I had banging around in my head for some time. I hope you guys enjoy it! Honestly, this story is based around my predictions surrounding what Monsters are in the Pnat universe, and also my theories about Dimitri. I have a few of these chapters stocked up, so now I can do the requests that piled up!

Also on AO3 and Fanfiction.net!

Summary: When monsters start to invade Mayview, the morality of the connection between a medium and their spirit comes into question. Is killing a spirit any different from taking the life of another human? Relationships between club members become strained, and if Max thought the club was coming apart before, it certainly is now.

The day had been little less than exhausting, and Max could feel the pull of his muscles with each step he took downhill, the pain in his legs growing duller and duller with each passing block. He cursed Johnny Jhonny somewhere in the back of his hazy mind, and vowed revenge for his scooter– someday. Right then, he would be satisfied to meet the cold air of the corner store– home, though he was still unsure he wanted to call it that– and the familiar curve of his mattress.

He trekked up to the front doors, reaching a hand out to pull a handle and retracting it as soon as he remembered that it was, after all, a sliding glass door, and sliding glass doors didn’t have handles. Max stepped out of the hot sunset and into the blasting AC. If he was mumbling his grievances under his breathe, it didn’t register.

Up the stairs he slumped, tired enough of the weight of his backpack to let it hit each stair on its own as he dragged it behind him. His metal bat sat like a heavy brick meant as a shackle more than a weapon, and after the fight he and the club had been through that day, he wasn’t willing to think much else of it. Spirits seemed to enjoy terrorizing the dead– undead?– of their school, and punching them in the face with a metal bat was therapeutic on occasion, just not today. The stupid half-mountain-lion half-rattlesnake had them running all over the school the entirety of lunch period and then some; he cringed remembering what it was like running into the student council without a hall pass, and grimaced at the feel of the detention slip weighing down his back pocket. Spender had said he could get it alleviated, but Max still wasn’t sure he could trust him to remember. The man did seem to be in his own world, lately, at least, more than he was the first day Max had been there. Maybe he was simply seeing the “Real Spender”, but something told Max his arrival in Mayview was the mere beginning of a handful of changes for the club.

What those changes entailed, exactly, Max was far too, unfortunately, ignorant to guess.

He tossed his backpack onto the couch as the sole of his shoe hit the final step, grunting and slinking towards the kitchen in search of sustenance. “Remind me to demand lunch breaks off.” He could hear his father and Zoe talking, probably lounging around the kitchen waiting for him to return so they could have take out and watch reality TV. Max entered the room with a wave that went unnoticed.

His dad sat leaning over the table with his hands clasped, and had Max not known his father to be one of the chillest people the world had ever seen, he might have thought the tightness of his eyes was an indicator of– stress? Apprehension? Fear? Zoe looked more relaxed, slouched as far back as she possibly could be in her seat with her arms crossed like shields over her huffing chest. She was on the defensive, clearly, and that had Max’s attention. He reached into the fridge and opened up a bottle of orange soda substitute, raising an eyebrow. “What’s going on?”

Zoe turned her sharp eyes on him, nose scrunching up as she snorted and hopped to the floor. “Ask Casanova!” She waved in Dad’s direction and twisted on her heel, and before Max could even register what she’d said, she was gone.

His dad sighed, and leaned against the table, burrowing his head into his arms.

“Dad?”

“Yes, son?”

“What’s going on?” Max had a thought, and spit the sip of juice he’d gone to take. “Oh god, are we moving again already?”

“No! No, no, no, no. Don’t be silly, loinfruit!” (“We had a conversation about that word, Dad, and your prohibited use of it…”) His dad sat back up and pat Max on the back a few times, uneasy smile inching from one crooked side of his face to another. “It’s great news, actually! I suppose your sister just isn’t ready for this big of a change, yet…”

“Are we sending Zoe off to boarding school? Because, ya know, I could really get behind that-!”

“I’ve got a date!”

Max paused, biting down on his lips to keep another sip of juice from pouring past his tongue. He already had one mess to clean up, after all. At first, he wasn’t sure he’d heard his father correctly. After all, it’d only been five years, and the man seldom showed interest in the actresses in the new superhero comics, let alone real women. He’d never shown any surmountable interest in the blind dates their friends and family were constantly trying to set him up on, and Max had been convinced that was partly the reason for the move to Mayview! He’d never questioned it– after all, if Dad wasn’t ready, he wasn’t ready, and he wasn’t exactly jumping at the thought of replacing Mom, either.

He’d figured his dad just, well, felt the same way.

He glanced at his father, then, and watched the crookedness of his smile turned almost hopeful, like he was sitting on whatever response there’d be, like whatever Max said next would make or break his world and the scale of the universe– his universe.

Max looked at him, took a long swig of his juice, finished the glass off, and nodded. “That’s great, Dad! When is it?”

Tuesday

It was odd that Spender was up until midnight grading papers. He was, after all, a typically sufficient teacher, or so he’d liked to think. He just hadn’t had the time for the last week. It seemed spirits were cropping up in even larger numbers than before, becoming more aggressive, even, enough to attack Isabel in the middle of class; getting out of that one hadn’t been fun, and he was sure his class had been more than a little suspicious of why he’d decided on an impromptu trip to the park to study… the statues? He wasn’t sure what assignment he’d given the students, then, and judging by the papers, the students weren’t quite sure, either.

He sighed and leaned back in his seat, rubbing between his eyes and stretching his back as best he could with his butt planted firmly against the desk chair. “I’m getting too old for this-”

His phone began to ring, vibrating silently on the desk beside the mountain of papers he still had left to grade. He frowned and reached out to pick it up, hardly glancing at the number before answering. “Hello, Richard Spender speaking?”

His eyes popped open, and he sprang forward so suddenly that the sheer force knocked his seat back as he came to stand. “Master Hashimoto! Yes, of course, I-! Yes… yes.” Spender frowned and stepped away from grading for a moment, letting his legs stretch as his back had earlier, as he paced to and fro in his bedroom. “I… suppose I could get in contact with Master Guerra? Hah hah, yes, he is a very busy man.” He came to stand in front of his window, looking out onto the street as car after car crossed from one end of the panel to the next, leaving behind only the fading sound of pressured air. “Well, yes… Master Hashimoto? May I ask why you’re requesting to see Master Guerra and, well, why I’m the middle man in this?”

More cars passed by, but Spender’s mind was far far away from the road before him as he shut his phone and slipped it into his pocket. Lips in a thin line, he glanced to his desk, where the ungraded paper still lay, taunting him with each wave of a corner under the moving fan. “This may get messy…”

It concerns one of your students.

“You have to admit, I was pretty awesome yesterday.” Max flexed one of his arms for Isaac to see, grinning from ear to ear as he watched his own muscle, or lack thereof, contract. He was finally getting the hang of the whole “spectral” thing, after all, and he had to give himself some credit where credit was due. Isaac seemed less than amused, if not borderline annoyed by his attempts at conversation. It had been like this for weeks after Hijack. When Isabel and Ed weren’t following the two of them to school, Max found Isaac to be less than sociable company. Any attempt at conversation was met with an eyeroll or a scoff or one of his infamous anime “tch” noises, usually accompanied by a shrug of the shoulder, as though it put distance between the two of them.

Today it was an eyeroll, and Isaac wasn’t even so kind as to make eye contact.

They still weren’t cool, yeah, Max knew that, but he wasn’t one to stand a silence, especially one with underlying malice. He was just trying to lighten the mood, and Isaac was too petty to even try. Max exhaled and rolled his eye right back, reaching into his pocket to grab his cellphone. If Isaac wasn’t going to make conversation, then he’d have to find something else to occupy the silence. Dawghouse was usually up to texting…

Max: Hey man, wassup?

Dawghouse: Nothing much, Maxy Boy, how’s the third week outta the city?

Max: Can’t complain, I guess.

It was true. Aside from the random spirits sneaking in and out of his house at night and the ghosts pestering him in class during the day, he didn’t have a lot to complain about. Mayview was, actually, a really great city. Yeah, it was pretty freaking crazy, what with teachers in lakes and a fully capable monetary system consisting entirely of laminated stars, but it was a scene to look at all the same. He was used to getting up and seeing the apartment complex across from his own, sometimes even waking up to awkward eye contact with the neighbor’s naked cat– creepy, that little thing was, and evil too, he was sure– now, he woke up to sunrises and rainbows and green trees and hills as wide as the eye can see. He’d wake up and just think about how his mom would have loved it, how she probably had loved it when she’d lived in Mayview. She’d never really like the city. It was too crowded for her, too busy. She liked quiet; she’d produced some of her best works in the early AM, when the rest of the city was asleep. He’d found himself wondering why she ever left. I might not have been born if she hadn’t…

Max: My dad has a date this week. Zoe’s been skulking around the house like she did that one week she thought String Swirl Suzan was canceled when she was four.

Dawghouse: That’s weird, man, I can’t imagine your old man with anyone else.

Max frowned.

Dawghouse: Can you?

He inhaled, shut his eyes, and exhaled.

Max: If it makes him happy, I’m happy.

“Hey, losers!” Max screeched and juggled his phone in the air until he was sure he had a good grip on it again, twisting to glare at Isabel, who still had a hand planted firmly on his back. She reached around his shoulders and pulled one side of his body into her arms, squeezing him despite the protests he managed to make. “What’s up?” She winked Isaac’s way, and she too received an eyeroll. He scoffed and Max almost felt jealous at the cold shoulder combo Isabel had received. If she’d noticed, she didn’t pay the attitude any mind.

“Nothing. You?”

Isabel grinned and raised a fist as though she was socking the sky itself. “Beat one of the older students in a rematch last night! Let’s see them look down on me now!”

Max glanced around, finding a suspicious lack of blond within their general area. He raised an eyebrow. “Where’s Ed?”

Isabel pulled her arm away from him, then, shrugging and turning her quickly sharpening eyes on the road ahead of them. “Don’t know.”

By the time the three of them got to the clubroom, Max’s mood had lightened substantially, at least enough to get him through a school day. Isabel was a handful to deal with, but she was also an interesting conversationalist, at least by normal people standards. Sure, she wasn’t somebody he could have fun snarking at– she often times ignored him– but she did have a lot to tell him about the paranatural world, and he certainly had questions.

She’d been explaining the in’s and out’s of spirit biology when they pushed the door to the clubroom open. Ed turned his head and waved at them before returning to the dragon he’d been painting in midair, brows furrowed as he stroked each individual scale, working his way down from the head to the tail. Spender was more distracted, pacing around the small room with his cellphone pressed to his ear. At their entrance he turned around and smiled, waving for them to come in.

Max came to sit on Ed’s left, while Isaac went to sit on the armrest of the other couch, shuffling like he wasn’t comfortable. Max looked at him and gestured to the entire empty couch, and then to the armrest he’d chosen instead. Don’t you wanna sit on an actual seat? Isaac shrugged and crossed his arms. I’m happy like this. Max squinted and gestured more vehemently to the rest of the empty couch. What the flip is your problem? Isabel passed them both by and sat opposite Isaac on the other end of the otherwise empty couch, albeit on the cushion. Max glanced from the empty seat to Ed’s right and then back to Isabel, who had her legs crossed and was doing an awful job of looking like she hadn’t sat away from them on purpose. Ed, who must have been watching her, raised a somber hand and wiped away the incomplete dragon, brush in hand slipping like dead weight into his open backpack. Max frowned– it wasn’t really his place to say anything, but he couldn’t help but wonder…

Spender sighed and leaned against the desk, pressing one hand at his forehead, other hand still squarely at his ear. “Yes, I-! Yes, sir… Master, if you would just– yes? Yes. Yes, I understand. Should I tell Master Hashimoto seven– no? Eight. Eight o’clock. Yes…. well, that’s very kind of you to say sir, I– oh, he hung up on me.”

“Hah!”

Maybe Spender didn’t appreciate Max literally pointing and laughing at him, because his eye narrowed behind his glasses.

“Max.”

“Your sensei hung up on you.”

“Yes, I know.” Spender readjusted his glasses and stood up straight, hand reaching up to loosen the tie around his neck. “Now, if you children wouldn’t mind, it is time for morning patrol.” The whole of them groaned, Max with his head thrown back and Isabel slinging her upper body over the armrest. Spender smiled and clasped his hands together, tired eyes turning bright under black frames, if only for show. “Isabel, Max! It’s up to you two today!”

He didn’t notice the way Isaac tensed or the growing slump of Ed’s shoulders, but Max did; he noticed it as he stood and slung his backpack over his sore arm, and he noticed is still as Isabel wrapped one arm over his shoulders and waved a goodbye nobody but Spender returned.

He wasn’t always in a bad mood. He couldn’t say he walked around his house grunting and pouting, though it wasn’t like there was ever anybody in the house to accuse him of it, so maybe he actually did, but he didn’t feel grouchy at home. He didn’t feel like crushing the controller in his hands when he was playing a video game. He didn’t want to throw a mug across the room and see it smash against the white wall when he had tea to calm him down before he tried to sleep. His bed never left him feeling cold, because it was warm and it enveloped his entire body like a good hug, and in those small moments he was– well, maybe not happy, but he was content. He was satisfied. No, he never felt like his insides were tearing him apart, or that his heart was slowly decaying and simply wanted the peace he himself so badly yearned for. The only thing home and school had in common was that he was alone– always, always, always alone. Maybe that wasn’t good, maybe he wished that his parents were around, but if they were then he’d just be reminded how distant they were and how nonexistent their entire “family” is and–

… and home would be just like school.

Isaac wanted to go home. He wanted to be done for the day. When the seventh period bell rang, he felt such relief, so much that it lifted him out of his seat and swung his lungs in a circle and made his heart leap, just before it went crashing down into the furthest depths of his stomach, sending his entire spirit into the murky waters of reality. Of course, he still had club to go to, how could he forget?

Isaac huffed and shut his locker door, carrying his uncooperative body to the clubroom.

He thought about quitting the club sometimes– not all the time, just most of the time. It was a thought that occurred to him when he’d feel a little more hurt than irritated, or the annoyances he called teammates were trying to push him to the brink of insanity. It always came like a small, beaded light in his mind, flickering like a candle he dare not touch, but each time it came to mind, the fire would grow just the smallest bit larger. It mingled with his pain like it was flirting, gracing his lips, pushing him to maybe say–!

No. Perhaps surprising, his pride always won out in the end– pride and logic. Where else would he have even a chance of getting information? Where else would he go if he had questions? There was no telling what information he’d be cut off from if they decided to spite him; he had little faith they wouldn’t.

Maybe it was fear.

When he entered the clubroom at last, he found Isabel and Max still hadn’t made it. His heart leapt in his chest, and he couldn’t help but shove the feeling under as many murky, cloudy, dirtied emotions as he could to hide it, to pretend he hadn’t thought for just a second that he might have been disappointed that Max hadn’t shown up yet. He’s a liar like they are. Ed and Spender were crowded around the monitors, almost oblivious to his entrance. Isaac grimaced and cleared his throat.

“Is there something going on?”

Spender twisted around in his rolling chair and clapped once. “Ah! Isaac! You’re here! There appears to be a spirit causing trouble in the west hallway. I’d like you and Ed to get things under control!”

Ed finally turned around and met Isaac’s gaze, giving him the most unsettling, toothy, smart-aleck grin Isaac was sure he could muster. He sighed, and shrugged.

Isaac dodged what appeared to be an extended, muddy claw as it reached and grasped for the floor where he’d once been. Had he been a second slower, those claws might have done more than just pierce skin… He cringed at the thought. “Ed, try to cut it at its core!”

“What do you think I’ve been doing,” Ed cut down one of its many limbs and chuckled to himself at its screech. He turned his gaze on Isaac and gestured to the width of the hallway, or more presumably, the spirit itself. “Dancing with it and having pina coladas?”

Isaac grunted and rolled his eyes, using his aura to deflect another claw headed straight for his face. The limb bounced off and went flying for the ceiling. “Could you maybe, I don’t know, cut it with the sarcasm for a hot minute?”

“No, but I could cut it for a cold minute?”

Isaac winced as another arm changed directions and charged for him almost faster than he could pull up another shield. It hit the ground instead. He stumbled. “Ed!”

Ed squated as another arm came for him, and hopped out of the way when it came down on the tile. He painted a thin line, as sharp as he could make with his non-dominant hand, and brought it down upon the claw. The spirit screeched again and pulled back. Ed’s eyes followed the tile where he’d been, and he swallowed hard. “Hey, Isaac?”

Isaac took a shot of lightning at the spirit, aiming as best as he could for its chest. Its skin tore apart. His lightning missed, shooting through the gaping hole. “Yeah?”

Ed waved at him from across the hall, then pointed to the floor. “I think we have a problem. It’s a poltergeist now. Causing damage to school property.”

Isaac groaned and looked back, struggling to keep his hands on either side of the tentacle rushing him. It pulled suddenly to the left. Isaac’s entire body moved with it. “Are you serious?”

“As can be.”

“We need backup!”

His hands slipped at the last second, and Isaac found the wind knocked from his lungs as one of the arms rammed into his stomach. It sent him into the lockers, gasping for air. His vision began to blur, and he squeezed his eyes closed. Another arm came rushing at him, and he only narrowly dodged its attack. The claws hit the lockers and tore metal the way down, leaving lines as thick as a dragon’s down the wall beside him.

“This world will be ours again.”

Isaac gasped and looked to the mass that he’d assumed was the spirit’s core, and he couldn’t decide if he was in shock, or if it truly had grown an eye– a single, bloodied eye. It was staring him down, watching him as though anticipating his every breathe. The question on his lips was dead on his tongue, and he couldn’t be sure they hadn’t escaped him in a whisper so quiet he couldn’t even hear it over the heavy beating of his heart. It blinked, and he swore its eyelid was inside out, like he’d seen other kids do in elementary to freak out the girls and the smaller children. He choked on his own air.

“We will reign again… and you will pay for this.”

The most disturbing thing was how, underneath the echo of a spirit’s voice, he could hear the undeniable sound of a human– like something out of a horror movie, like someone eaten alive screaming for help. Isaac went to ask, went to say anything to draw out that human voice, beg for answers so maybe he could help– and then Spender had cut right through it.

Isaac slid to the floor, heaving and coughing and– he reached up to wipe his mouth– was that… was that blood? “Not ectoplasm…”

“Is that…” Max appeared to be holding back a sudden nausea. “Is that normal?”

Isaac glanced up to find that it was everywhere. A mixture of human blood and ectoplasm alike, coating the walls of the hall like something straight out of a horror movie. Even Isabel looked frightened, eyes wide as she helped Ed to his feet, who could hardly function with the way he was looking at the floor. Spender stood in the middle of it all, brows furrowed, hands clenching and unclenching as he stood as still as stone.

What was that thing, if not a spirit? Was it– he felt sick to think it– a living thing? Why could they attack it if it was still living, then? Isaac wiped away the blood– ectoplasm? Something else?– from his jaw with the back of his hand, shuddering to think of all the questions building and fighting for top pick when he head was so… so muddied that nothing made sense.

“Isaac.”

He blinked back to reality, glancing up to Spender, who then stood with his cellphone in one hand.

“You should go get cleaned up.”

Isaac looked from Spender to Isabel and Ed, who were watching him, why were they watching him? “Yeah, I guess I should…” His voice trailed off like it’d known something he didn’t, and he pushed himself to think about what he could be missing. What was wrong with the picture?

And then he saw it.

Ed wasn’t as bad, but his legs were still nearly soaked in the weird blood-ectoplasm combination. Spender himself was covered from speckled face to drenched shoes, eyes narrowed behind the glasses he hadn’t yet taken off to clear. He’d gotten up to make for the bathroom, but halted midway up from the floor. “Why am I the only one who needs to get cleaned up?”

If he was thrown off by Isaac’s apprehension, Spender must have been a hard read. He swore he could see the man’s eyes flicker behind his shades, and he pointed more avidly to the bathrooms. “Isaac, that’s an order.”

He blinked again to clear his eyes, gaze running over the faces of his other teammates.

Isabel and Ed were looking away, eyes anywhere in the destroyed hall but him. He’d been expecting that.

Slowly, cautiously, he turned to look at Max, who stood on Spender’s other end with wide eyes and a stomach he held between his hands. Their eyes met, and Isaac’s brows furrowed because he was asking a question and Max had to have known, had to have understood because he had earlier.

Max frowned and turned his head to the side, hands falling limp at his legs, and Isaac knew he’d been stupid to think there’d be any other outcome.

He sucked the roof of his mouth with his tongue and stood up, hand clutching his sides were the spirit– person, thing– had gotten him earlier. “Fine.” He turned away from the rest of the group and all but stomped in the direction of the west hall bathrooms, clutching hands turning to fists without him even noticing.

It was a good thing the school was empty come nightfall, Max mused to himself, because otherwise there was no way Spender could have called down a cleaning crew, of all things, and gotten away with it. It wasn’t like that was their job, he guessed, they were just spectrals, friends, he called to help him out of a particularly messy situation, but still! “What was that thing if it wasn’t a spirit?”

Spender sighed and leaned back against the wall, squeezing clean the hand towel he’d had Max break out of the janitor’s closet. “A monster.”

“Great. What, exactly, is a monster?”

“An overloaded medium.” Spender dunked his washcloth back into the mess and began clearing as much as he could in one sweep. Isabel plopped her own down and began cleaning the same area, wiping as aggressively as she fought. Spender nodded at her in a silent acknowledgment, and Max didn’t miss the smile that brought to her face. He glanced down at his own washcloth, finding the mixture of blood and ectoplasm to become thicker, more like rotten slush than, well, however the heck else blood and ectoplasm should hypothetically act. “Of course, this isn’t something that normally happens, it’s just” he paused and wiped away the blood that was beginning to crust under his glasses “in this case, the spirit is ready and willing to leave, but…”

“… the spectral won’t let go?” Isabel’s voice was sharp, like she was barely keeping it from breaking with emotion, and Max couldn’t even begin to tell what she must have been feeling. She was used to all of the spirits and ghosts and stuff; she’d grown up around it her whole life, he hadn’t, but in some ways he wondered if that made the new knowledge even worse for her. He was terrified, yes, and he probably wouldn’t be able to wash the sight from memory for the next thirty years, but he hadn’t been so deathly close to a threat like that his entire life.

“Exactly. A situation like that can only build so long before, well” he held up his washcloth and let the blood and ectoplasm flop off like thrown tomatoes “this happens. The humans and spirits fighting for dominance over one body eventually tore it apart and made a monstrosity of it. They don’t think like we do, they have two sets of thoughts and memories. Most importantly, two sets of emotions, both terrified and angered, enough that all they can agree they want is, well, revenge or blood or whathaveyou. What makes things worse is that, because the body they both inhabit is still of the physical world, non-spectrals can see and feel their impact. That is what makes them so especially dangerous.”

“And it sounds like there are a lot of them.” Max dumped his washcloth into the bucket and let the hot water fold over his hands, soothing in the face of the chore he’d set upon doing. “And they’re coming for us for some reason.”

“The Consortium specifically, probably.” Isabel amended, moving hair from her eyes as a bead of sweat rolled down a string of her bangs. “I’ve never heard of that happening within our ranks, so I’m going to assume that’s the agency we branched off from.”

Spender nodded. “Before The Consortium existed, there was an earlier spectral group. Mankind was still new to the paranatural world, and experience has taught us better. The spectrals who became monsters were some of the first mediums on record. The spectrals sealed them away in an undisclosed location.”

“But one got out.” Ed spoke up for the first time that hour, squeezing out his washcloth before wiping his reddened face with it. Max cringed. “So, what do we do now?”

“I’m not sure…” Spender glanced up at the other spectrals running around the hall, struggling to open lockers, dropping entire buckets of water and falling over the sopping wet floor– it might have been funny had Max been in a laughing mood. “I’ll be speaking with the other agents tonight.”

[justira]

STORY STARTERS MEME

Rules: List the first lines of your last 15 stories. See if there are any patterns. Then tag 10 of your favourite authors!

@petite-neko tagged me, and I have never been tagged for anything before in my life. But, uh, sure, let’s do this!

I definitely do not know 10 writers on tumblr because I am very terrible at doing The Tumblrs and also I mostly talk to artists on here? But why not, let’s tag my partner in crime @sevdrag; @wordsdear, who I know writes; and @kaizokunohime, who doesn’t write prose but does write story ideas/prompts, and I’d like to see how those do with this meme.

I have no idea what is meant by “first lines” here? The first sentence? The first block of text until whitespace? idek, I tried to keep it reasonable. This is in reverse chrono order, so first story is most recent.

1. Acclimating

[One Piece — Law/Luffy, Law & Strawhats — E, 31.3K ]

Law probably should have seen this coming. It wasn't his splintered self-worth that made him avoid things like this (and what business of anyone's was it, anyway, if he lived for Cora-san's memory? He'd been living on borrowed time for over a decade, and every step he'd taken since then had drawn him closer to a confrontation he expected (hoped) he wouldn't survive). But his utter lack of interest in making himself likable because there was nothing much to like certainly helped cut down on complications. Or, it usually did. The standard rules did not seem to apply to Strawhat. Black Leg had warned him, although, all things considered, that shouldn't have been necessary. 

2. A Slow and Vicious Hemorrhage

[BBC Sherlock / Hannibal Movies — Holmes/Watson — M, 5.5K, WIP]

The air gets heavier, down here, cooler and tinged with inescapable subterranean damp. John breathes it in, steadily; it doesn't particularly unnerve him. It reeks of institution and he's had practice enough with those. It's not calming, precisely, but it's familiar. It's all familiar. It's all fine.

It is.

His hand tightens on the two case files. It doesn't stop the tremor, but he rubs his thumb across the labels, the rough reality of them, already thoroughly ragged from the flicks and scrapes and polishing and various pointless attritions of dozens of fingers, despite the very recent dates stamped on both of them. Two dates, two names. Neither name belongs to Sherlock Holmes.

3. Swimming Lessons

[Final Fantasy X — Auron/Braska/Jecht — T, 1K ]

Auron sputtered as Jecht dunked him under the water again. He came up for air, gasping, to hear Braska rebuke Jecht. "Jecht, he can't swim." Braska's tone was just this side of sharp, showing that Jecht was testing his patience; good, as he had surely tested Auron's. Auron clawed his hair out of his face where it had escaped his tail. Jecht was already too far away to shove. Braska floated over to him, touched his shoulder. "Are you all right?"

4. This Stolen Interstice

[Dragon Age: Origins — Duncan/Teagan — M, 8K]

The Grey Warden came during the harvest. The field Teagan was working was cradled in one of Rainesfere's rolling valleys; trees rose high on all sides, crowning the surrounding hills and wind-murmuring to each other as the harvesters worked. The air was thick with dust and chaff and the smell of fallen leaves, just edging into cold. That hint of crispness settled pleasantly on Teagan's skin as he worked amidst the slice and whisper of sickles and threshing, the barking of dogs weaving through the rhythmic sounds — no laughing children, not during the harvest, as all but babes were put to work at some task or another. He found one such child suddenly in his path — Rogher's youngest. Deliah? That must be it.

"What is it, Deliah?" Teagan wiped his brow as he stood, stretched his back.

"There's a man to see you," the girl mumbled, shy before her bann. "Mama says he's a Grey Warden."

The words spilled a chill down his back, much harsher than the gentle bite in the air. Darkspawn, here?

5. The Storm That Sweeps So Quiet

[Final Fantasy Tactics — Alma/Tietra — T, 1.2K]

Alma's spine aches. She has been bowed over this tome for entirely too long. Study is normally a pleasure, particularly the histories or the great tales of the Church, but this day she set aside to get through an endless dissertation on courtly graces. Studious as Alma may normally be, her heart is not in this. Today, the floor is distractingly hard beneath her folded skirts, even with the spare cushion. Her bodice itches unreasonably. Behind her, Tietra's quiet breathing and quieter warmth brush down Alma's back; she had persuaded her friend to take the window seat and regrets it not one bit, discomfort or no. It's not Tietra's fault that Lord Haverell's text drones so. Outside, the sunshine drips between tumultuous clouds; the air is heavy and moist, and the clouds tower high. It is not a day for study, not at all.

She runs her finger down the rich vellum of the page and listens to its smooth whisper. Behind her, she hears Tietra shift, the soft sigh of fabric and the rougher-edged rasp of pages rubbing together. Well, if Tietra feels it too...

6. So let it out and let it in

[Supernatural — Castiel & Mary, Castiel & Dean, Castiel & Sam — G, 5.1K]

"Jay Bird Family Special," the waitress announces, clear and cheery above the lunchtime clinks and conversation buzzing through the diner. She tips Mary a wink. Mary grins back as Heather sets the giant platter in front of her, gently intercepting baby Dean's hand going straight for the steak. "Your man running late?"

"Course not!" John pops up behind Heather. He's breathless under a thin sheen of sweat, his face all smiles and engine grease, and Mary could not want to touch that handsome curve of jaw more.

Instead, she puts a mild growl of threat in her voice, not even trying to cover the laughter crowding up alongside it. "If you think you're getting those paws anywhere near my food or my son—"

7.  And Under Sky, the Shelter

[Final Fantasy Tactics — Ramza & Rapha, Marach, Mustadio, Agrias  — G, 1.4K]

The hill cups gently around a lee; pebbles gather in the shadow where the wind abandoned them, making for a stony bed, but it will serve well enough for their purposes. Ramza, at least, is tired enough to collapse where he stands. He watches Agrias survey the site and thinks dully about what to do if it does not meet her standards of defensibility. It is well that she nods in approval, as he had not managed to think of any alternatives. The weariness runs too deep in his bones, leeching at thought, at care. It frightens him, distantly. So many have ceased to care, it seems. He rouses himself with a shake that feels like trying to shift mountains.

Tired to numbness or no, camp must be made, the birds cared for. The birds and — his teeth tug at his lip as his glance lands on Rapha and Marach, hovering at the edges of the group — the people. The tasks have been long apportioned, but in their ever growing and shrinking company, they reassign the routine often enough. It is just that he is too tired tonight to think on it.

8. There the Bones of Us May Lie

[Final Fantasy XII — Ashe/Balthier — T, 2.5K]

The hollow starlight sinks into ashen softness before her as she boards the Strahl; the hungry roar of the Cataract is hushed, made muted and metallic. It is like sinking into water, reversed. The quiet is the same, the sense of distance, but as she ascends there is no persistent buoyancy, no insistent upward press. Weight seems to sink down on her instead, settling deeper about her shoulders like a mantle.

It's familiar.

The silence of the ship eats her sigh, giving back nothing. And that, too is familiar — comforting, even, to have no wraiths answering those unmeant nighttime summons. The Occuria's illusion of Rasler is shattered, and Vaan isn't here to haunt her either, sleeping below with the others; Ashe is alone if not exactly unfettered. It is beyond her, just now, to judge whether that is better, and that is, in any case, irrelevant. There is little point in dwelling on it, now.

9. Best Hand

[Ace Attorney — Apollo & Trucy, Phoenix — G, 0.5K]

Apollo eyed the backs of Mr. Wright's cards. Wright kept them low, hands resting easy and relaxed on the table — Trucy was just the opposite, her fan of cards held up in front of her face, casting conspiratorial glances over the top. Hiding her smile. Trucy had something; Apollo'd figured that much out. Not as good as his own hand, though, he was sure of it.

(Now if only...)

He looked back at Wright. Nothing to see. Nothing to sense; bracelet quiet and loose on his wrist. (Damn! It's not just that he used Trucy for the games, he's impossible to read anyway!) Apollo resisted gritting his teeth.

10. Eclipse

[Final Fantasy IV — Kain/Cecil, Kain/Rosa, Cecil/Rosa, Kain/Cecil/Rosa — G, 1.5K]

In the old forgotten passageways beneath Baron Castle the walls exhale ghosts like vaporous winter breath: a fine spice on a hunt for treasure, harmless old haunts that feather around them as they creep down the halls with their stolen torch, their voices a nervous-laughing titter of echoes.

When the revenant comes Kain's blood freezes and he sees the panicked bloom of Rosa's untutored magic, shielding them; Kain's lips parting in awe and breathlessness as they flee.

But as they tumble back down the halls, to light and safety and a likely spanking, it is Cecil who clutches his hand.

11. Where Memory Rests

[Thief: Deadly Shadows — Garrett, The Shalebridge Cradle — G, 2.3K]

Thick exhales of steam crowd the night air, damp on your skin, as you make your way through the noise and shadows of the City. Grit has gathered close to the walls where you walk, giving the soft sound of your steps a rougher edge. Your fingers trail where a gas arrow once crystallized: a pipe carrying hot air hisses quietly at the leak. Magic lies thick in the air since the Final Glyph, dispersed and unformed. You can feel it in your hand. It washes across the red new scar like warm breath, like the air trickling from the pipe. The elemental crystals form faster, now, and someone harvested this one before you.

It doesn't matter. You have other things on your mind tonight.

And besides, you can always get it back.

12. the silent fulcrum in the interstice

[Kingdom Hearts — Kairi & Riku & Sora, Kairi & Naminé — G, 1.2K]

It begins with her hands: she plunges them into the place where earth meets sea meets sky. The light falls fragile across the grains, soft contrast to their coarse texture against her palms, her bare knees. The damp sand is heavy in her palms and something stirs in her as she pauses, hands suspended, full of infinite possibilities: This is how worlds are created, she thinks. Memories, falling like sand, like stars, like snow (where does she remember snow from?); she pauses, hands suspended, full of infinite worlds.

She can't remember the last time she did this, or maybe she never stopped: this is where she sat and stitched together a star, a promise; this is where she stood and watched the horizon and waited, or tried to remember what she was waiting for. The sand is heavy in her hands, and she wonders if this is any different, or if it is all reconstruction and remembering.

This is how worlds are created, and she sinks her fingers into the sand.

13. Same As It Never Was (cowritten with @sevdrag)

[Final Fantasy VIII — Rinoa/Squall, Laguna/Squall, Quistis/Rinoa, Kiros/Laguna, Quistis/Rinoa/Squall — E, 72K, WIP]

“I’m sorry, Commander, sir,” the waiter said over Squall's shoulder, “but we don’t have that particular vintage — our sincere apologies. Can I recommend another bottle — on the house, of course?”

Squall tried not to grit his teeth— too hard, anyway, because they were already grinding a little at the waiter’s placating, admiring, sorry-to-your-famous-personage-please-be-kind tone. He glanced up. Rinoa was smiling at him, that smile of hers that carried beaming wattage like a Thundaga to the chest, and even though it still made his heart skip a beat he could read in it what neither of them was saying: her hesitation playing across her face, the tense strain of her smile even as his own lips quirked back in response.

“Not a problem,” he said, aware that his voice was gruff and sounded irritated; maybe everyone would assume he was aggravated about the wine.

14. Coward Heart

[Final Fantasy X — Auron & Braska & JechtI — G, 3.6K]

The caves cast light back at them, fractured reflections and the rock's own native glow: the water was still and star-littered, pinpricks of light beneath a surface so motionless that Auron could barely tell where water ended and the pressing dark of the caverns began. All the light should have illumed the air, but the icy breath of the place seemed nearly solid, swallowing the light before it could reveal more than it hid. Auron had drawn his sword long ago, its rasp loud and echo-inhaled. Even the fiends glowed, here, great gelid flans with galaxies glittering inside them, dissolving into pyreflies like gentle novas.

Auron's gaze slid to Braska. In the gloaming, Braska's eyes seemed wide and white, his robes silver-edged black, all the careful distinctions of colour — red, for mourning; purple, for hope; blue, for seas and skies — lost in the half-light. Jecht was a suffocated flame beside him, the leaping fish on his sarong like the empty spaces between licks of fire as he shrugged off the wool-lined jacket Braska had finally convinced him to wear.

15. Disconnect

[Final Fantasy VIII / Kingdom Hearts — Maleficent & Squall — G, 3.7K]

He opens his eyes to the sight of water falling up. The spray coats his face, his clothes— he tries to sit up and make sure Lionheart is dry in its sheath and realizes that everything, everywhere, hurts.

(Rinoa.)

He makes it to his feet, checks on Lionheart. The gunblade survived the trip, maybe in better shape than Squall had. He flexes his hands, staring at them. They still feel numb. (Did it hurt you like this? Your magic?) His spells are gone, eaten up by the trip from Traverse Town. He hadn't counted on this exhaustion. (Yeah, and Cid had said it was impossible and called me an idiot. Whatever.)

It doesn't matter. He heaves himself away from the rocks he'd been leaning on, and starts climbing.

Analysis, I guess?

Okay well the immediate thing I notice is that I used the word "interstice" twice in this set of titles and that's just mortifying.

Decent mix of fandoms! 14 fandoms counting crossovers, although 8 were Final Fantasy of some kind.

I counted 6 past tense intros (though one of those fics switches to present tense halfway through, which is 15K words past the opening lines), and 9 present tense ones. That's a 2:3 ratio of past to present, and I actually had never realized I wrote in present tense this much. In the grand scheme of fiction writing, past tense is heavily more common so I guess this sample puts me in the... minority? I find present tense more immediate. I rarely actively CONSIDER which tense to use, I just start writing in whatever FEELS right for the idea. The first story where I actively considered tense was "Acclimating", the most recent story on here. Whoops >.>

Also I don't tend to open with dialogue. For short fics (less than 10K) I tend to write mostly in order, and I find writing dialogue difficult, so I tend to kind of "settle in" with a story by writing description first, and only after I'm properly settled try some dialogue. There were only 4 stories with dialogue in the opening lines here, and only 2 that actually had dialogue as the first thing in the story.

Fewer em dashes than I expected, as I know I overuse those. But not, apparently, in the opening lines. I wait until the reader is settled in/committed before pulling that shit on them.

I seem to vary between starting in the middle of things vs. doing a bit of setup. I couldn't really pin numbers to this one, as it's a bit more nebulous. For example the very first sentence of "This Stolen Interstice" (that word again, shoot me now) is in medias res, but then I back up to a bit of scene-setting. So who even knows!

Anyway, this was a fun exercise!

[heyeulalie]

The Final Fantasy

Hi again.

Phew. It’s been a crazy month and I feel like I have so much to get you caught up on. 

I feel so out of practice with writing and my thoughts are all jumbled, but I’m going to try my best to get this out there. 

The last week of my graphic design internship was busy. Toward the end of it I figured out that I was unfortunately pretty sure that I didn’t actually want to pursue a career in graphic design. It was strange - it was so close to being something I felt like I would enjoy, and it pays well and there are plenty of jobs out there doing it, but so much of it is organizing information into neat, tidy boxes and catching little details and for whatever reason that process really stressed me out. I’m not neat and tidy and trying to think that way is like speaking a second language for me.

I’m slowly coming to terms that my real interest and passion has been and probably always will be illustration and animation, and there’s nothing to say I can’t build some kind of freelance career out of doing that instead of design.

I don’t think the experience was a waste at all. It forced me to buy a new computer, which was way overdue, and I got to relearn how to use Adobe Illustrator and figured out After Effects, which I had really been wanting to learn. And I learned a lot about marketing and running a small business which maybe eventually I can use for myself in the near future.

But I was still pretty stressed out that last week. I had been working for free all summer plus doing delivery driving at night, which didn’t leave much time for fun or making new friends or anything. My car’s check engine light had just popped on and I wasn’t even sure how much longer my only source of income was going to last. I didn’t have much to show financially for all the work I had been doing over the summer, despite having poured so much time into everything. Our apartment’s roach/mouse/rat problem was getting increasingly disgusting and the landlords weren’t doing anything about it, despite multiple requests. I was just tired and lonely and broke and burnt out.

I felt like God had been telling me that I needed to stop talking to Jon, my Canadian ex boyfriend, completely. Even though absolutely nothing romantic had been expressed between either of us since we had been in touch again, I knew where my head was at. Every time he messaged me I started imaging the sort of amazing life I could have if he finally declared his love for me and I married him and moved in to his nice house that he bought with his great, stable, well-paying job in Canada - the land flowing with poutine and milk in a bag and universal healthcare. I could hang out with his wonderful family who I always loved and play Dungeons and Dragons with him and his friends on the weekends. It sounded like the perfect life - except, of course, for the fact that he wasn’t a Christian. 

We had been talking on Discord and I tried to figure out how to tell him I needed to stop talking to him. It seemed strange to try to explain to him that I couldn’t talk to him because I liked him but couldn’t date him when, again, absolutely nothing romantic had ever been said. And he was over 1,000 miles away. I took the chicken way out and just deleted Discord abruptly and hoped that maybe that would be enough to kill off our causal exchanging of memes and dumb stories.

Sometime during that week some of my old high school friends wanted to get together for a video chat. We had all been staying in touch so it wasn’t that strange, but they had also reached out to another friend that I had dated on and off in middle school and high school. He’s married now and has kids and I didn’t think anything of it, but for some reason seeing him again after so many years REALLY threw me off. Then we all started exchanging pictures and someone posted a picture of me and Jon together the last time we had seen each other in person, about 20 years ago. I went into a little bit of a tailspin, feeling like my life was so much better and I had closer relationships when I wasn’t walking with God. And it really made me miss Jon, but I knew I shouldn’t reach out to him.

Later that night I was literally looking at the picture of him and crying when he texted me out of the blue. He mentioned that he noticed that my Discord account had been deleted and he hadn’t heard from me for awhile and just wanted to make sure things were okay. I couldn’t believe his timing. 

I was already in a weird, emotional place, and was stressed out with the work I needed to do. I knew I just needed to let him know what I was thinking and finally close the door for real.

So I explained to him exactly how I felt - that it had made me so happy to hear from him and get to be in touch with him again, and that I had always wondered what things would have been like if we really had the chance to date, but I knew it couldn’t happen and I needed to stop talking to him, at least until I could really see him just as a friend again, and nothing else.

He responded a few days later, explaining that he felt the same way and he had been trying to figure out how to broach the subject of seeing if anything romantic was still there between us. And, if and when I was ever ready to talk, he was open to talking about it.

It was so strange seeing those words written out in real life, after they had been sitting in my head in fantasyland for so long. 

There it was. It was real. He did like me after all this time. What if I really did pick up and move to Canada and marry him and have a wonderful life with such a cute story of how we fell in love when we were 12 and finally got together over 20 years later.

I really had to process this with God. I know God told me that I would be married eventually, and I really believed He told me whoever I married needed to be a believer. But I was just questioning everything. It seemed like this really could be God sending me someone. Was I just being religious and it was blinding me to recognizing the thing God was sending me? I know what the Bible says about being equally yoked, but was I misunderstanding what that scripture meant? Isn’t the whole gospel really just about love anyway? If we’re loving people aren’t we keeping God’s law? 

I really went through the ringer with this. 

Ultimately, I had to just come back to the fact that I believe God gave me a strong, supernatural, personal promise telling me that I would be married and it would be important to look within the family of God to find that person, and that God’s word itself really does talk about the importance being equally yoked in a marriage. And I had to come back to the fact that God is GOOD. God isn’t going to let me miss something He’s sending me, and even if I do miss it or mess it up, God is the king of second and third and 4th and 50th chances. I also have to hold on to the fact that I cannot ruin God’s plan for my life with one decision. He knows what I understand and what I don’t understand and He knows how to get my attention. So I just have to go off of what I believe He is saying to me through His word and honor Him in the best way I know how and trust that He will meet me in that.

So I explained to Jon that the main thing that was stopping me from pushing for something with him was the fact that my faith had become much more important to me over the years, and I feel like that ultimately I need to be with someone who shares my faith. He said he completely understood that and that he was agnostic/atheist so it makes sense that that would be a deal breaker. He was extremely kind about the whole thing.

And there it was. After 23 years the door was closed.

I cried for probably three days straight. I couldn’t believe how painful it was to let go of him, and let go of this weird dream that I didn’t even realize I had been holding on to for most of my adult life. The whole thing had gone way deeper than I ever had known.

I had been in a pretty bad place when I found out Jon liked me in middle school. I was so insecure, and a couple of weird circumstances in school had made me feel so completely undesirable and unheard and invisible. But then suddenly he saw me and liked me, and suddenly I felt like I did have worth after all. He moved away and we fell out of touch, but I guess I didn’t realize that for all of this time I had been holding on to this idea that there was someone out there far away who was madly in love with me. A lot of my sense of worth came from that idea. Without that I felt like I was back to being this invisible, voiceless loser ghost of a girl.

Having to close the door on that after all these years was so hard and so painful, but I feel like God showed me that it was an area that I had never let Him into to love me and heal me. As long I was drawing this feeling of self-worth from feeling like Jon was out there somewhere loving me I was blocking myself from accepting God’s love, and accepting the full reality of how complete and loved and valued I am in Him.

I feel like God just used this whole thing to heal a huge part of my heart that I didn’t even realize was broken because I had apparently been keeping Jon there all this time, but I can’t believe how much better I feel now.

Then, after all this, an animation studio I applied to work at back in March reached out to me for an interview. Who knows what’s going to happen but it was definitely so encouraging.

I’ll keep you posted :)

Love,

Eulalie