#unreasonable amounts of poetry

[jar-of-maise]

She takes his hands gently, cradling them in a manner that made Lyney unsure of how to respond. Those hands could never lie. They shook with an awful tremble, like the last flutter of a dying butterfly's wings.

“I’m sorry for loving you,” she says softly, her eyes filled with unshed tears. 

That was the burden of the unsaid, you never once thought that nightmares could be dreams too, until they were there in front of you.

Dread settles in Lyney's chest, it drops like a heavy stone into a still pond, sliding in without resistance. It sinks to the bottom of his chest where it's weight aches with a dull pain, “Don’t say that," he clears his throat awkwardly, "please, don’t say that.”

She stares back at him, unseen dread haunting her dull eyes, “What?”

Lyney swallows thickly, his breath shuddering in his chest, rattling like fragile marbles in a glass container, “don’t say things like that,” he whispers.

She drops his hands, where they hang like dead weights. She searches his eyes for something she can't find, for something she won't find. It was like the sun, desperately trying to reach the moon, yet finding only it's reflection in the burning daylight, “Things like what?”

She does not want to know the answer to that question. But a burning sensation compells her to ask. Perhaps, with a single word, an entire tragedy could be rewritten.

Looking at Lyney now, she knows that the feeling is mutual. That is an awful realisation to come to, she turns her head away to avoid looking in the mirror.

Lyney, the other half of her, the mirror that she never needed to look in. Lyney, who was the only one who could attune to her soul. Her Lyney who had never been lost for words like he was now, who'd never fumbled or been uncertain.

"Things like what?" She cries, when met with silence. Her hands twitch uncontrollably, and then she's lunging forwards her hands reaching out like desperate claws which latch onto Lyney's shoulders.

These hands of hers were gentle, they were kind. So now, seized by grief as they were, her fingers could not quite grasp the hatred that she wanted them to.

They were strangers to force yet they exerted a violence that was comparable to a monster, "tell me!" It's not a scream, by the time the words drag out of her mouth, it's a mangled, broken tangle of words.

"It's not fair, it's not fair," she says hoarsely, "why do you- you can't-You don't get to do this to me!" She yells, and it's a sound that wretches at Lyney's heart.

"Answer me! What things?! What things shouldn't I say?" Her hands were not made for violence, they were crafted with love in mind. But they tightened on Lyney's shoulders, trembling all throughout.

“Things,” Lyney finally chokes, blinded with tears, “that make it sound like loving me was a mistake,” his hands reach up clumsily, with none of the dexterity or reflex they usually moved with.

She was silent, tears streamed down her face in long, ugly rivers. They fractured her face and drew shadows across her face that did not belong there.  

“It’s not a mistake. This wasn't a mistake,” Lyney whispers desperately, not trusting his voice, yet continuing treacherously.

This is a one way path, a lonely dark road with no return tickets, “you loved Lyney, just plain Lyney. You would never lie," he pauses as his voice wavers, "you didn’t take me by accident, you chose me…didn’t you?” 

“I don’t know,” she admits, lowering her head, she had never admitted defeat. Giving up was not an option, yet she could not conquer this mountain. The shadow of its height, and sheer slopes rendered the fire in her heart cold and frigid.

“I don’t know you. Do I really love Lyney? Who was I in love with?” She asks herself, there is no reply.

This is another question that she doesn't want to know the answer to. But perhaps there is no answer, she's left grasping for strings that have already been broken. The gray cannot be defined, nor described, and in the face of such uncertainty, she doesn't know what to do.

Neither does the magician standing before her. His face is the image of forced apathy, like a puppet with no strings.

"Lyney..." Regret, and immutable yearning surge into her chest, where they mix together like a tapestry woven wrong. The strings are tangled, and the only remaining option is to cut the fabric entirely.

"Perhaps the greatest tragedy of it all is, the more I talk to you, the less I know of you..."

[https-furina]

hello hello!!

congrats on 100 followers, many more to come hehe

i wanted to req 15. “look at the moon.” with kazuha !!

(see in my mind this prompt reminds me of "the moon is lovely isnt it" thing and im a hopeless romantic for kazuha)

✎ the moon.

ft. kaedehara kazuha x gn!reader

prompt: "look at the moon."

w.c. 619 words

content: fluff, confessions, flustered reader, childhood friends to lovers

notes: hehe thank u aly !! here's some more sickeningly sweet kazu content !!

the night sky has long held importance to the two of you. together you have been under many stars, many moons glowing on your skins and reflecting in your eyes. kazuha would rather stare upon the moon through the mirrors of your eyes, wide and fascinated as if you have never seen the moon before. it's a kind of solace he will never attain anywhere else, with no one else other than you. even as kids, you was his muse - calm like the ocean he desperately craved for and filled with a love never-ending for him. to him, he considers you'd never find this love romantic.

the moon tonight is no different to every other moon the pair of you have gawked at in awe. it's full and bright, reflecting in the sea before you. your feet are buried in the sand, fingers tracing shapes and letters in the sand as you ponder how many constellations you can spot above you. kazuha has spotted most of them before you even remember their names but he doesn't say anything, after all he is the one who took the time of day to teach you the constellations in the first place. he taught you the importance of every star in the sky, insinuating the importance of every soul in teyvat at the same time. you admired his wisdom and his knowledge of the stars but he humbly shrugged you off, putting it down to needing the stars to navigate the sea.

although the moon may be no different other than its phase, kazuha wants to make this night different. he's been pondering it for weeks, months now - his attachment to you. you've been inseparable and joined at the hip for as long as the two of you can remember, your mother says it's been this way ever since you were babbling your words. you had a specific children's poetry book as a kid seeing as your father is a poet and kazuha had taken instant interest in it one day.

kazuha has three days before he's back onboard the alcor, his second home. he grimaces at the thought; you will always be his first home.

"look at the moon." you sigh dreamily, eyes half lidded as you gaze up at where the stormy clouds have drifted by, revealing the moon once more as it comes out of hiding. kazuha smiles, glancing from the moon to you. he'd much rather look at you.

"the moon is beautiful, isn't it?" the words fall from his lips in the softest of tones as if he wasn't sure if he wanted you to hear it. yet your eyes widen, darting around and looking anywhere but kazuha or the moon - odd, they're your favourite things in teyvat. there's an unreasonable amount of heat in your cheeks, your mouth becoming dry as you splutter and stumble on words and wonder how to respond. did he think this through? you question but there'll be no response. maybe in a few months.

"yeah, it is." you reply quietly, almost drowned out by the waves but kazuha catches it on the wind, his smile widening as he leans back on his hands, staring up at the moon. in a spark of new found confidence, he finds his hand wandering to find yours, cold meeting warm as you lace your fingers with his bandaged ones.

your smile is forever familiar and warm to him, your presence a safe place that he refuses to leave for as long as he can take a breath of air. kazuha would do anything for you, be it crossing oceans or climbing mountains and he's going to be sure you know that, "you're more beautiful though."

© https-heizou 2023.

[callsign-bunnie]

(Are we still doing the take away order thing)

Hey could I get a GazAlex combo with some not so secret relationship fries

This is a bit more of a drabble, but here you go!

--

Price was not stupid. 

He liked to feign a healthy ignorance here and there. Everyone treated him like he was borderline senile, despite the fact that he was only 37 years old… So, maybe he played into it a bit. Hell, it let him get some fucking naps and hey, he didn’t have to think too hard about why Mactavish was wearing only a pair of boxers in Ghost’s quarters.

Kate liked to tease him over it, telling him that he didn’t have to play old and dumb in front of everyone so well but… Kate also didn’t have to walk into random rooms to see two grown as men jumping apart like they were fucking teenagers.

Hell, the Colonel and his SIC had done the same damn thing. They have matching wedding bands. Colonel Vargas had waxed poetry over their wedding night. Yet when he had walked into the command room, the two were leaping apart and making some excuse over Rodolfo having something on his collar or whatever. 

Price was just accepting it as part of whatever weird fatherly dynamic he had with everyone. He hadn’t asked for it, but… Whatever.

Regardless, he wasn’t that stupid.

So, when he walked into the kitchen to see Kyle, his sergeant, was making a very concerted effort to focus on an electric kettle, while zipping up his jeans, and Alex Keller, who was between missions at the minute, had his fist just so conveniently placed over his crotch… He knew what was going on immediately.

Hell, Price was a Captain in the SAS. He knew how to pick up details he wasn’t being given. For instance, Keller usually kept his hair well groomed, however it was in a decent amount of disarray. Kyle was scratching at his neck where a mark could be seen poking out of his collar.

They also kept glancing at each other and turning darker shades of red. So, Price internally rolled his eyes and went over, getting a disposable cup down and dropping a tea bag in it. “You two okay? You look flustered.”

Kyle winced. “Yeah, we’re fine. Alex was telling me about the last mission he went on.”

Price glanced over at Alex, who notably avoided his eye, and he chuckled softly. “Ah. Looks like Keller’s still rather roughed up from it.”

Both seemed to freeze for a moment, and Price turned to his cup. “You should stop by the showers,” he commented, pretending he'd genuinely meant the comment. “I’m surprised Alex is in here, though, since he said he was visiting for Ghost.”

Alex and Ghost genuinely were friends, Price knew that. They’d ran several missions together and Ghost had been decently upset when Alex had “died” so it wasn’t an unreasonably excuse for Alex to be there for him but… Well, considering that Kyle was in here and not Ghost, though Ghost and Mactavish had been… mysteriously missing the entire day… Well, it was just funny. “Of course,” Price started before either could answer, “who knows where Lieutenant Riley is. Huh, now that I think about it, Mactavish is missing, too.”

He looked up, noting how Kyle and Keller both immediately looked away from him. “I got something on my shirt or what, boys?”

Both winced. “Sorry, just… early in the morning, I guess.” Kyle offered Price the sugar bowl and Price snorted.

“It’s 10.” He raised an eyebrow. “Whatever, you know I’m rather interested in this mission, too, now that you’ve brought it up. Kate said it was a disaster.”

He watched them both glance at each other. Alex shifted in his seat. “I could tell you about it, sir.”

“Nah, I’ll find out from Kate.” Price shook his head, deciding he’d had enough of torturing them. He simply finished stirring sugar into his tea and threw the tea bag in the trash, shaking his head. 

Price made a cheers motion with his cup, watching both Keller and Kyle awkwardly make one back with theirs. It was… kind of funny to watch them, honestly. He chuckled as he left, shaking his head. 

Sure, he could drop the facade, just tell them straight up that he knew that they were fucking. But… well, they were going through all of this effort to hide it. Even from Kate. Price knew that Alex and she had a similar relationship to himself and Gaz, so he understood why both would have made that decision.

Even still, he found Kate in the command room of their little base, flipping through a report. He sat by her and shook his head. “Garrick and Keller in the kitchen… Apparently Alex was telling Gaz about the last mission. Which I’m sure he told a fine story, while Kyle’s jeans were down.”

“Think we should tell them that we know already?” She chuckled as she looked up from the papers.

Price laughed, leaning back in his seat. 

“Nah.”

--

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@the_pluto_828 @sinclairbrosbathmat @wittymanatee

[crownedtargaryen]

modern!got/hotd. - character building

(a/n): this is my own interpretation of modern!au got and hotd. if you disagree with me on some ideas, I truly do not care. this post can be used for story ideas and references for modern!au fics. if you’d like me to add a specific house, I will do so! this can be changed into a college!au as well. all notes are appreciated. tag list: @hopelesswritergall @twizzy123 @daenerysapologist @clairacassidy

The Stark family is well known for being extroverted and friendly individuals who love outdoor activities, sports, and almost anything that gets their blood pumping! They're known to show unreasonable amounts of loyalty to their passions, peers, partners, and family; sometimes being described as almost dog-like. They're proud owners of the Winterfell Wolf Sanctuary, where they teach the wolves who cannot move out into the wild to adapt to humans, their new environment, and even other animals. Each Stark is bonded to a wolf pup at age 10, raised alongside the beast and learning to love them as family and not just a pet.

main characters.

Cregan Stark, Jock: Adopted Cousin, taken in by Ned Stark. Co-Captain and proud defense player of the Iron High hockey team alongside Jacaerys. He's often been described by his peers as ambitious and family-focused, very territorial and defensive of his blood. (Demiromantic, Demisexual)

Robb Stark, Jock: Star quarterback of the Iron High football team. He's often been described by his peers as a playful and tough-loving individual. He shares his territorial sense with his cousin, Cregan, defending his name with pride while also befriending anyone, no matter how different they are from him. (Demiromantic, Demisexual)

Jon Snow, Middle-Grounded: Step-brother to the Starks, apart of the Iron High poetry club. He's often been described by his peers as mysterious and mildly-aggravating. To be honest, he dances around clubs and tries to find an after school activity that "speaks to him." He knows nothing about poetry, but he continues to go to the meetings merely to seem edgy, “deep”, and mysterious, which pisses off Aemond Targaryen. (Straight)

Brandon Stark, Nerd: Organizer of the Iron High eSports team. He's often been described by his peers as self-reserved and passionate. After losing his ability to walk, he needed to feel involved in something. He Twitch streams in his spare time, mostly practicing for tournaments with his friends on the team. He grows insecure over his loss of feeling in his legs and feel mildly pathetic, but can't bring himself to admit it. (Straight, Demisexual)

Arya Stark, Sporty: Star batter of the Iron High softball team. She’s often been described by her peers as competitive and passionate. She finds herself making small things a competition, urging to win and prove her worth to those around her. Though, underneath it all she’s struggling with romantic feelings, trying to identify her true sexuality and self. (Bicurious)

Sansa Stark, Popular: Running for student body president against Rhaena Targaryen. She’s often been described by her peers as sociable and kind. Though under her kind facade, she can be quite judgmental and catty when it comes to certain people. Definitely two faced on occasion. (Straight, Asexual)

The Targaryen family is well known for their sly and intelligent bloodline, that also ties into the Velaryon line. They’re a mix between sociable and lacking desire for social interaction with those around them, tending to go about tasks that test their smarts rather than their athletic capabilities. They’re said to start arguments that they know they can win and play games of wits to get what they please, which causes them to butt heads with the Lannisters. They can be seen as almost snake like. Each Targaryen child owns their own reptile, mostly based on personality. Their parents saw it as an outlet to keep responsibility and build emotional connections since most Targaryen children are neglected by their parents, and they can be seen as undesirable from time to time, which makes them lack friends.

main characters.

Aemond Targaryen, Mildly Popular: Though he isn’t apart of any specific activities or extracurricular activities, he can be seen with his siblings on most occasions. He’s often described by his peers as sly and cocky. People think they’re friends with him, but he truly as no interest in them and doesn’t remember their names. You can find him with Helaena, helping her with tutoring students, or with Aegon as his designated driver. He spends his time studying when not looking after his blood. When he was younger, his cousin had accidentally cut his eye while they were hunting, which had sent him into a entirely different personality, and Lucerys into disciplinary action and house arrest though the action was not intentional. (Demisexual, Demiromantic)

Aegon II Targaryen, Player Jock: Left-Wing hockey player on the Iron High hockey team. He’s often described by his peers as flirtatious and manipulative. He was hit the most by his parent’s neglectful ways, drowning himself in sexual relations and alcohol at they parties he goes to. You can often find him feeling up women at college parties, kissing on their necks and trying to get in their pants to feel some sort of relief in his life. Though, he holds terrible commitment issues and leaves the men and women he messes with immediately after getting what he needs from them. (Bisexual, Demiromantic)

Helaena Targaryen, Popular: Hosts tutoring for those who need it at Iron High. She’s often described by her peers as shy and gentle hearted. Her fascination with the outside world and aesthetics is both strange to most but can also be seen as admirable. Though she doesn’t go out of her way to talk to those around her, she seems to have accumulated an abundance of friends in the years of attending school. (Biromantic, Demisexual)

Daeron Targaryen, Social Butterfly: Though he has no true social status at Iron High due to being in the shadow of his brothers, sister, and cousins, he’s still known by quite a few. He’s often been described by her peers as exciting and adventurous. He holds deep insecurity for his lack of popularity like the rest of his family, but he continues to try to be open and exciting. He loves to go out with his sister, Helaena, during lunch and feed the small bugs pieces of fruit. (Biromantic, Asexual)

Rhaena Targaryen, Popular: Running for student body president against Sansa Stark. She’s often been described by her peers as kindhearted and easygoing. In her days of making friends, she tries to involve herself with every group without discrimination. She’s very well known for her genuine kindness and playfulness. (Straight, Demisexual)

Baela Targaryen, Sporty: Proud member of the Iron High pole vaulting and weightlifting team. She’s often been described by her peers as prideful and feisty. She is openly bisexual and close with her cousin Helaena and Arya Stark. She’s very open about herself and presents herself honestly, a powerful and passion driven young woman. (Bisexual)

Daenerys Targaryen, Popular: Distant cousin to the Targaryens, she’s well known for her beauty and kindness in competition to Cersei’s. Her peers often describe her as emotion driven and a pacifist. Wildly loved by all, but spited by some, her kindness spreads within the walls of Iron High and her aspirations drive her and others toward their future goals, attempting to motivate and befriend those around her. (Demiromantic, Demisexual)

The Velaryon family is well known for their ambition and balance in situations, enjoying the outdoors and physical activities unlike most of their cousins. They’re very kind souls, open to new things that’ll test their limits. They tend to become competitive at times, striving to please and be the best they can, though sometimes they can’t control themselves and sometimes people can get hurt. You often see them around the Stark kids, usually play wrestling with one another. Though, the Velaryon boys are products of a cheating scandal with their mother and a man named Harwin Strong, who soon ended up becoming their stepdad. Though, she holds a love for another who most speculate is Daemon Targaryen.

main characters.

Jacaerys Velaryon, Studious Jock: Co-Captain with Cregan and goalie on the Iron High hockey team. He’s often described by his peers as easygoing and loyal. A dedicated man to his work, you can often find him studying in his cousin’s study group to try to balance his grades with his sport. Though, occasionally he’s at parties trying to find a relaxation point between his schooling and constant training. That dedication makes him a ladies man, even though he’s merely kind to them and hasn’t intentionally tried to make anyone swoon. (Demiromantic, Demisexual)

Lucerys Velaryon, Extroverted Sporty: Goalie for the Iron High soccer team, he’s not very passionate about the sport he’s pursued in and is hoping to join his brother on the hockey team once the season rolls around. He’s often described by his peers as exciting and innocent. Girls tend to flock around him since he’s quite the small cutie, and he doesn’t seem to enjoy the attention too much. He’s very focused on his brother and protecting him from the other people who are eyeing him down, not understanding completely why so many girls take a liking to the two. (Straight, Demisexual)

The Lannister family are well known for their pride and riches, their children spoiled rotten and blessed with beauty as well. Though they aren’t very physically active, they make up for it with their manipulative and convincing personas. It’s known that if you challenge an Lannister to a battle of wits and cleverness, you will come out a loser. That is, unless you’re a Targaryen. It’s hard to match the passive aggressive personality of a Lannister as well as their ability to masterfully lie to those around them. Though, the Lannister children face abandonment issues and a craving for their father’s approval after their mother’s passing. So, it leaves them lashing out on those around them.

main characters.

Cersei Lannister, Popular: Not involved in many activities after she had stopped cheerleading due to suspicions of her and her brother Jaime being TOO close, she’s mostly seen painting her frustrations away in the art room during lunch. She’s often been described by her peers as two-faced and defensive. She has many friends and is well known for her beauty within the school, but no one is safe from her rumors. No matter how close you think you are to her, she will never find you desirable and will talk lowly of you at any moment. (Bicurious, Demisexual)

Jaime Lannister, Jock: Linebacker for the Iron High football team, he’s very passionate about the role he plays in this school. He’s been often described by his peers as “the good Lannister” and awfully cocky. Some people find his self confidence bothersome and distasteful, while others find it endearing. Though, he spends quite a bit of his time near his sister, which makes people raise questions on how close they REALLY are. (Bisexual with female preference.)

Tyrion Lannister, Party Animal: Much like Aegon, the drinks and women are a way to bury his deep feelings. He’s often described by his peers as witty and sly. When short guy season comes around, you’d be surprised by the amount of women that are on him. Though he tries to remain humble, as he puts it, by keeping his body count a mystery. (Straight)

[hungwy]

I think words can do a LOT of heavy lifting in terms of getting someone to understand something -- really, there are few things where some tailored explanation can't match important details of actually experiencing a thing... it's just that sometimes experiencing something is simply so much more efficient at dealing comprehension of complex experiences that youd otherwise be dedicating a completely unreasonable amount of time, maybe years, to get an idea across through language, not to mention wrangling someone's interest in learning well enough to, well, convey the thing you want to convey in the time required. Which is why poetry is useful

[the-hilda-librarians-wife]

Sketchbook Week Day 4 - Dreaming of Bumping Into You (Chapter 1)

Summary: When Johanna is woken up in the middle of the night by a strange phone call, she knows she has to ask Kaisa what is happening. She just doesn’t know which is more concerning; whether it’s the words being said or the way her best friend sounds while she’s delivering them

Notes: Written for @sketchbookweek Day 4 - Secrets

Cw: mentions of drug/alcohol use. Nobody actually uses either, they’re just fucking stupid

Listen, with the amount of songs I make sketchbook edits to in my head, I have no idea why I decided to write fanfic inspired by Why’d You Only Call Me When You’re High, but when the inspiration strikes you can’t argue with it yk

Read it on ao3

“Arch sorceress Pilqvist is a disloyal, unreasonable woman. It is beyond me how she has reached such a high standing inside our order when her skull is so thick I hardly think hurling a crystal ball at it would even hurt!”

Kaisa took a deep breath. The very woman who was being slandered right in front of her had taught her that filling your lungs with air was the best thing you could do when you wanted to lash out. Not that it made the anger go away, not at all. But at least it made it so one couldn't get any impulsive words out, at least not until after one big exhale. After which you could always inhale again and stop yourself from getting cursed, punched, fired, or in her current case, probably all at once.

“Tell me again how you think insulting my mentor is going to make me help you, Ingrid.”

Her voice had been calm. Slow. The appropriate tone for a library, which, even though her boss seemed to have forgotten, they were inside at the moment. Yet the witch immediately looked angry, the red that had been steadily rising on her neck reaching her sharp cheekbones.

“You must!” She shot, glaring at how Kaisa kept her demeanour purposefully disinterested, eyelids heavy and shoulders slumped over the library cart she was walking around with for reshelving purposes. Ingrid didn’t quite like how the librarian made her follow around while she did her duty either, but that was their bad for only hiring one person for that entire building. “Matilda is the only witch who ever managed to create a spell like that with so little side effects. With the amount of trolls walking around town these days, we need it more than ever! Witchkind’s safety is at stake!”

The librarian rolled her eyes, though she didn’t think the other witch saw it. Recent… changes brought to the town by Frida and her friends had made it increasingly easy to tell apart the bigoted ones amongst them all. No matter how little interest trolls seemed to have on witchcraft and its practitioners, there were still some witches who insisted that just because their magics didn’t mix, that they shouldn’t coexist.

Which was just as bullshit as it sounded.

The Committee had called upon Tildy one day, and she’d even showed up much to everyone’s surprise. They’d explained their worries, which meant that five minutes in it wasn’t a meeting anymore, but a sass session for the older woman to make them realise how stupid they sounded. They didn’t, of course, which only meant Tildy refused to give them her prized protection spell and they didn’t give up on their quest to secure it. Leaving Kaisa in her current position.

“It’s her spell.” Kaisa said as she parked her cart between two shelves and began looking for the correct place for an eighteenth century poetry book. Her opinions on the matter were exactly like her former master’s, of course. She hadn’t witnessed Hilda show off her shifting powers like a party trick when she dined at her house just to turn around and say that trolls were dangerous. But if Tildy hadn’t come through to them, great at turning people to her side as she was, then Kaisa wasn’t going to be the one to make them see the other side of things. Besides, she was tired. The last thing she wanted was to begin a moral argument in the final leg of her already tiring work day.

There was also the issue that she didn’t actually know that spell, but hey, she didn’t need to admit that to the people that employed her, did she?

“I’m not going to spill it if she didn’t want you to have it. I’m sorry, but you’ll have to look somewhere else.” She finished, not sorry in the least but trying to keep some semblance of politeness.

Ingrid twisted her lips like she’d tasted something sour. The truth, probably. Or her own stupidity. She ran a hand through her short blonde hair to make it fall back into place.

“Hm. Lineage secret, is it?”

Nah. It was a protection spell. Tildy would probably give it to anyone who asked her nicely, if they didn’t want it for idiotic and prejudiced reasons. She’d likely made Kaisa learn it at some point, but gods knew she’d long since forgotten it.

“Yes.” She lied. “Of the utmost secrecy.”

Ingrid hummed again, and Kaisa thought she got a chill in her spine when she did so. It got draughty in the library during that time of the day, she supposed. “I see.” She said in a whisper. “I suppose I’ll just have to find it… someplace else.”

The other woman walked away, all of Kaisa’s discomfort disappearing alongside her. She breathed a sigh of relief at no longer having Ingrid’s analysing stare locked on her face like it had been for the entire conversation, finally free to listen to her songs as she worked.

For some reason, though, she still felt eyes on her all the while until she finished for the day. No matter how many times she looked behind herself, she still saw nothing, so she figured it must be the lingering unease at having been so close to one of the Committee’s most unpleasant witches (she and her sister were almost tied in Kaisa’s listing, but Abigail still took the crown for that whole Void business). Kaisa let the music blast through her headphones, getting lost in it as an antidote for those moments of stress and whispering along to the lyrics.

”The mirror’s image tells me it’s home time…”

…......

A couple years before, when Hilda (whose name she did not know at the time, of course, but a blue haired girl is hard to miss even at such a large library) began showing up to ask for books and advice, so did her mother. It took them an embarrassingly long time to realise that Kaisa was the librarian who Hilda always talked about and that Johanna was the mother the girl mentioned when they were together, but once they did, it took the two women no time to bond over their fondness for the girl and her group of friends, over their routines, their tastes and struggles. After Johanna had made her promise to never again give her daughter any dangerous magical devices, that was.

They had become, at the very least, friends. And Kaisa thought that with no small amount of weight to that statement, because she really couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so sure she could call someone that. But there was a line, you see. Most friendships didn’t have that line, that boundary just within eyesight that they were sure that once it was crossed, it would no longer be a platonic friendship but a romance. Most friendships didn’t have it, because when friends trusted that that’s what they were, and that was how they would be free to express the extent of their love to its fullest, then all you can see, all around you, is that friendship, as far as you can reach.

Not them, though. Both of them were very aware of that border, well aware that their love for one another was extremely capable of taking another shape, one that would actually let them breathe freely and satiate the longing inside them.

There was a line. They were aware of the line. And they kept tip-toeing on it and jumping back each time. Scared of what would happen if they crossed it. Scared of what the other would think.

Personally, Kaisa would love to rip the blasted line out of the ground and use it as something more interesting. An aisle for one of them to walk towards the other on, for example. She’d had quite enough of catching herself sighing yearningly at the window on sunny days and squealing when her phone pinged with a message from her. And that was to say nothing of the embarrassing (-ly frequent) daydreams. She felt she’d had quite enough of pining being a woman almost in her thirties.

The thing was, taking the first step wasn’t something Kaisa was willing to do. Not right now, at least. Johanna might only be a couple of years older than her, but she felt like the woman was aeons ahead of her. She was mature and well resolved, independent and capable of taking care of herself, her daughter, and however many magical creatures there currently were in her house. How could Kaisa, in all sincerity, offer herself up for a woman like that in her current state, knowing she’d end up as nothing more than another source of trouble for her?

No. Kaisa was willing to wait. She rather thought Johanna was too, judging by how that line kept being played with. They’d get to crossing it, well and properly. But first, she wanted to get a little closer to being the person she thought Johanna deserved. A little braver. A little more put together. A little less worried about what people who didn’t give a single damn about her well being thought of her. And she was making progress, she really was. But until then, that uneasy friendship would be more than enough. She’d take it and be grateful it was even being offered, making sure to show her appreciation for Johanna’s presence in her life every single day.

Which was why when the woman showed up at the library that morning, wringing her hands together in anxiety and with a frown between her eyebrows, Kaisa immediately dropped what she’d been doing to go talk to her.

“Hey, Anna, good morning.” She greeted in a soft tone of voice, making her startle slightly upon noticing Kaisa’s presence. The librarian had approached her from behind, but even so she thought the behaviour was slightly off. She was never this jumpy, was she? “Everything alright?”

There were a couple of moments when Kaisa genuinely wondered if she was talking to the wrong person. Maybe there was some bizarrely accurate Johanna lookalike in town now and she just hadn’t been aware. The point was, a full twenty seconds must have passed in which Johanna said and did nothing other than stare at Kaisa with that same frown she’d walked in with.

“Johanna?”

“Yes, I’m fine.” She answered at last, but her voice didn’t sound at all certain. “I’m… it’s alright. Thank you for asking. But what about you?”

Kaisa quirked an eyebrow. As soon as Johanna had been broken out of her unexpected stupor, she’d begun leading them to the library’s break room, where the workers could go should they need some water, coffee, or just to sit down and not to interact with people for a bit. So essentially Kaisa’s personal personal winding down and chugging coffee corner. They’d been there many times before, chatting until after the library’s closing hours about anything at all. However, when Kaisa was about to sit down on one of the ancient armchairs, she turned back to see that Johanna was still standing by the doorway, looking at her feet and shifting her weight between them.

“Is it okay if we stay out here?”

Her lifted eyebrow melted into a frown as Kaisa walked out of the break room again.

“Well, sure we can, but what’s going on?”

“Nothing.” Johanna said, too quickly. “We’re okay, I promise. I just popped by to ask you if you were fine.”

Kaisa’s heart did a flip inside her chest. Which was very uncomfortable, considering a structure tied to so many vases wasn’t supposed to be moving around much at all. The words sounded reassuring, but they hit her as anything but. When she saw Johanna walk in like that, she’d assumed something had happened and that she could help, even if only by listening to her. Now the thought at the forefront of her mind was that she’d messed up somehow. Because she hadn’t even considered that they might not be fine, but now she sure as hell was doing it.

“What, me? Sure I am.” She closed the break room door behind herself, figuring that if the idea of going in there made Johanna uncomfortable she should eliminate the possibility altogether. “I mean, I am normal. I woke up at the normal time and came to my normal job that I do every day. Little pissed that I just had to ask a group of teenagers to be quiet, but that’s it. I’m not sure I understand your question.”

Johanna still wouldn’t look at her, which was off putting. Kaisa was the one who liked to look away when they talked, only because it made it easier for her to concentrate on the conversation, but she could always feel Johanna’s eyes on her. This time, Kaisa actively tried to catch her gaze, wondering if looking at her eyes would give her any explanations to the way she was acting, but without success.

The woman cleared her throat. “It’s just… last night, when you called me. You sounded a little… out of it. And I wanted to check that you were fine and safe.”

Kaisa blinked. Stared at her. Continued staring at her until Johanna finally looked at her face and saw her own confusion reflected back. She looked a little embarrassed, a light pink colour painting her cheeks and the bridge of her nose.

“I didn’t call you.”

“What?”

“Johanna, I didn’t call you. As far as I’m concerned, the last time we talked was when we went to the bake shop two days ago. When was this call?”

Now, the librarian wasn’t trying to gaslight her. She didn’t think Johanna was crazy, much less a liar. But neither was Kaisa an amnesiac, so she’d probably remember calling the woman she was head over heels for; there had to be a logical explanation for this.

“Roughly at three in the morning, I think.” Johanna answered, looking uncertain in the face of Kaisa’s conviction even though she sounded actually sure of the time she was informing. Kaisa snorted.

“Well, I have no idea who that was, but I can assure you you’re not looking at them.”

“But it was your voice.”

“Anna, I go to sleep at nine thirty and wake up at six. I do that religiously, because otherwise I become a massive bitch come morning.”

“Well-” Johanna looked like she was getting uncomfortable in a different way now, being put in the spot like that. Kaisa softened. She’d assumed that assuring her that she wasn’t responsible for whatever that was would make the situation easier on her. But come think of it, being phoned by a stranger that could pass as one of your closest friends couldn’t be too soothing either. “I thought you might not remember because, well, you sounded-”

Kaisa nodded for her to go on once she looked insecure about whether she should finish that sentence. Johanna did so with a whisper.

“Affected?”

Johanna looked at her expectantly, making Kaisa feel bad that she could offer her nothing other than even more confusion. She’d need to make herself more clear if she wanted anything out of the witch.

“Sorry, affected by…?”

“Well-” Johanna rubbed her neck, looking around them, and the ceiling, down again. Everywhere but at Kaisa. “I don’t know. Alcohol. Drugs. Something like that. Not that I’m judging!” She put her hands in front of herself immediately, and if she took the chance to really take in Kaisa’s face she’d see how that possibility was even weirder to her than it was to Johanna. “But I was just worried about how you might be. So. Yeah.”

Kaisa wanted to be helpful. She really did. But Johanna had just asked someone whose ideas of reckless behaviour ranged from waking up the dead to skipping dinner to eat jorts, and nowhere in that spectrum was partying hard and using any sort of substance. It was hard to even take her worry over her seriously, which was a shame, since under any other circumstances Kaisa would have been over the moon with such a treatment.

“Johanna. Look at me.” She did. “Under what circumstances can you imagine me getting high at three a.m.?”

It was her right arm instead of her neck that she rubbed in anxiety this time. “Well, none, but-”

They stared at each other, Johanna with an anxious look and Kaisa with a compassionate one. Eventually, she sighed.

“You’re right. It must have been a dream.” Her shoulders slumped. “Oh, gosh, this is so embarrassing. I’m sorry, Kaisa.”

Her friend laughed, glad that apparently there wasn’t even a problem to be solved. Maybe now they could have their coffee and some regular chatting.

“Don’t stress about it. I should be flattered you’re dreaming about me.”

Kaisa walked back into the break room, heading straight to the coffee machine to brew a new batch. In doing so, she failed to notice how Johanna still lingered by the doorframe, watching her for any signs of untruthfulness or discomfort.

Through gritted teeth, the woman whispered to her own ears only. “You have no idea…”

…......

Kaisa got deja vu often. She supposed it was a mix of her brain loving to make associations and the fact that all witches had some future telling abilities, even if hers were quite weak, so she supposed there were some things in her life that she had seen before, even if at the back of her mind, a simple suggestion made by that more magical part of her consciousness.

That particular image, however, she was very sure she had seen before, and when, and where. It had been at that same place, at the same time, the very day before.

This morning, however, when Johanna spotted her, she clutched her purse strap closer to herself, making Kaisa halt her approach. She only ever did that when she was scared.

Was she scared of… Kaisa?

The thought hit her like a knife between her shoulder blades, but she still put on a smile for her. She didn’t get any closer, though. It was best to let Johanna approach her.

She didn’t. She stood there, two metres away like she was talking to a stranger. The knife twisted inside her.

“It happened again.” She said, sounding surer than she had the day before. “I was awake. I checked. Nothing happened when I pinched myself and my fingers and clocks looked normal. I wrote a note saying it was real and it was still there when I woke up this morning.”

Kaisa sighed. “Anna, I don’t know what to tell you. I didn’t call you. I certainly didn’t get drunk, or high. It must have been a prank of some sort.”

Johanna’s mouth twisted, like she was trying to bite something back. “Yes. It must have been.”

The witch dared to take a step forward; only one, though, because Johanna immediately tensed. Someone else might not have noticed it, but Kaisa couldn’t not.

“Are you… angry at me, Anna?”

Her voice was harsher than Kaisa had ever heard it before when she answered. “No. Why would I be angry at you for something you didn’t do?”

“I have no idea, but you sure as hell sound like it right now.”

“Why do you look tired?” Johanna snapped, shoulders squared back though the displeasure at acting like that was written clearly on her face. Kaisa gaped.

“Because I am borderline anaemic and wake up every day at six, maybe? You can’t really be mad at me right now, Anna. I know it must be weird to be prank called in the middle of the night and everything, not to mention whatever the hell they’re telling you to get you this worked up, but I didn’t do anything!”

Her stare grew harder, those brown eyes suddenly reminding her solid mountains, peaks so high one couldn’t ever hope to reach. But then moisture began to gather at the corners, and Johanna looked down quickly. Just not quickly enough for Kaisa to not have seen it.

“You never do, do you?” She whispered and walked quickly out of the library, leaving a befuddled librarian behind herself.

…......

One of the things Johanna missed the most about living out in the wilderness was the quiet. Since they’d moved to Trolberg, she’d hardly ever managed to have a single night’s sleep that was as peaceful as when the only sounds that could be heard during the night were of the owls and cicadas, the forest’s own little lullaby for its only two human inhabitants to hear. It wasn’t like Trolberg was some big metropolis where they were subjected to the noise of traffic jams and drunken yelling in the early hours of the morning, of course. But it wasn’t the same. There was always an odd motorcycle, or the footsteps of their upstairs neighbour, the sound of a television when someone in their building turned to it after having trouble sleeping.

And, for the past two nights, there had been the blasted ringing of their landline.

The first time, she’d found it beyond weird. Nobody ever called them at that time of the day (well, night). But the phone would have kept ringing had she not picked up, and she didn’t want it to disturb Hilda. So Johanna had dragged herself out of bed, mumbling and rubbing at her eyes, and walked to the kitchen to simply tell whoever was at the other side of the line that they had the wrong number and hang up.

It didn’t go like that, however. Because as soon as her ear was on the speaker, a voice she knew slurred her name.

“Kaisa?!” She’d whispered with urgency, figuring from the time of the call and from her clearly subdued voice that something was wrong. “What’s the matter?”

She hadn’t answered for a couple of seconds, but Johanna knew she was still there. She could hear her breathing.

“I’m in love with you.” Kaisa sighed eventually, in a dreamy voice. “That’s the matter.”

Since the whole point of picking that call at all was not waking Hilda up, Johanna had to make a lot of effort to be silent when she choked on air at that statement. Her face heated up immediately and she gripped the phone’s handle, looking around herself to make sure there was no one near and listening. As if that would help. If either Tontu or Alfur really wanted to listen in, there would really be nothing she’d be able to do about it.

That was not how she’d imagined this conversation going.

“What?” She whispered into the microphone. “Kaisa, that’s lovely-” She mentally slapped herself. What kind of reaction to ‘I’m in love with you’ was that? Kaisa deserved better. But then, Johanna had also thought she deserved at least a face to face confession, though she should probably consider herself lucky to be getting one at all. “- but why are you telling me this right now?”

“I can’t tell you this.” Kaisa continued, which Johanna hardly thought could be considered an answer to her question. Her voice was distant, the cadence unlike it had been in any of the times they’d been together previously. Still, Johanna knew it to be her voice. She’d recognize it anywhere. “I can’t tell you that I want you close at all times. I can’t tell you that you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met. I can’t even tell you I want to know everything about you. Because I’m not… not ready. You deserve someone better than me, and I’m not ready.”

Her tone wasn’t emotional. For all that she was saying, she didn’t sound like she was making a confession, but like she was listing facts. Johanna was sure her face must be completely red at that point, her heart picking up a speed she wasn’t entirely sure was healthy. She still had just enough reason to be able to tell that none of that sounded normal.

“Kaisa, love, tell me what’s going on.” She urged. They’d hung out not a full 48 hours before. Kaisa had been acting normally around her and showing no signs of wanting to confess an avalanche of deeply buried feelings. Something had to have happened.

“I know it’s selfish of me, but I want to be with you anyway.” Another string of words that sounded like they barely had any thought given to them as they were pushed out of Kaisa’s mouth. It wasn’t an answer. The witch had probably not even heard her. “I want to wake up with you and cook with you and come home to you at the end of the day-”

Oh, gods.

“I want to be someone you can call yours-”

Kaisa was high, wasn’t she?

“Kaisa, where are you?” Johanna attempted once more, even though the confessions didn’t stop coming from the other end of the line. “Do you need to be picked up? Are you safe? Are you home?”

Nothing. Well, not nothing. A lot, really, but only a lot of sappy feelings that had nothing to do with Kaisa’s current state at all.

It must have gone on for half an hour. Johanna didn’t know how to make her stop, and figured that at least she knew Kaisa was fine as long as she was speaking to her on her phone. There was of course also the fact that she’d waited for so long to hear those things that she was too selfish to hang up now, even if these were far from the circumstances she would have preferred. After she’d seemed to run out of things to say, Kaisa asked in just as distant of a voice.

“What do you think?”

Johanna took a deep breath. She’d sat down on the floor at some point, the landline’s cable extended to allow her to do so.

“I think you need to rest, my dear.” She uttered softly, still worried. “We can talk about it when you’re better.”

The line went silent. Kaisa had hung up.

Johanna still sat there, cradling the phone’s handle and looking straight ahead with an unfocused case for a few more minutes. She had no idea how to process what had just happened. Kaisa had just said everything Johanna could have asked for in her most self centred fantasies, and more. But she didn’t feel ecstatic like she should. She felt hollow. Because of the context, she felt foolish, even. That night, she’d gone to bed and her only thought had been ‘what now?’

But then she’d showed up at the library, and Kaisa had acted exactly as she would have any other day. Like nothing had happened. Like she hadn’t gotten high as a kite and declared her undying love in the dead of night. And she’d been so sure of it too, without any signs of any unusual activities the night before, even. Johanna had let herself be convinced it was only a dream. That would have made sense, right? Only in dreams did people’s crushes confess to them like they were writing a love letter. In Johanna’s case, only in dreams did people confess to her at all. She should have known better.

Except it had happened again the night after that. Johanna had made sure to check everything that could give away that she was dreaming, but everything around her looked perfectly… real. Except for Kaisa. Her voice drifting from the phone, saying how much she craved to have her near, couldn’t possibly belong to reality. And yet, it did.

Not that any of it had helped matters when she’d come to talk to Kaisa about it. Depending on what substance she’d been on, it would have made sense for her to forget what had happened. That wasn’t the issue here; had it all been handled differently, Johanna should have been happy to wait for as long as the witch needed for her to actually admit her feelings. But all she’d been met with was vehement denial. Maybe she was ashamed, but going so far as to imply that Johanna was wrong, or lying? Implying that it could be a random prankster had her at the end of her rope. As if Johanna could ever mistake Kaisa’s voice for anyone else’s. At that point it was as entangled in her mind as the sounds of the forest or of her pencil on sheets of paper.

All of that only allowed her to arrive at one conclusion. That it was deliberate.

For the third night straight, Johanna forced her legs to take her to the kitchen. Her head hurt; it had been difficult to fall asleep again after the calls, leaving her exhausted physically as well as emotionally. She hoped it would be something different this time. That maybe Kaisa had come to her senses and would admit that she was drunk, or high, or just plain sorry.

She hoped for anything other than what she got.

“I’ve fallen for you harder than I thought I could. I didn’t know I could like someone this much.”

Johanna groaned. Groaned. Because somehow her biggest dream had turned into a nightmare in the matter of three days. Was loving her such an embarrassing thing that it could only be mentioned in the dead of night? No, that wouldn’t make sense. Kaisa would at least act coy if that was the case, give her the slightest indication that she did mean what she’d said or that she even remembered what she’d said. For her to sound like that, to say all that, and to vehemently deny it only left Johanna with one conclusion.

For two nights, she’d withstood that. It had to be some sort of joke, and a cruel one at that. To force her to hear everything she wanted, only to see that it changed nothing come daylight. It was torture. And it was clever. Clever because it hit exactly where it hurt, because it would drive Johanna insane while leaving Kaisa safe in her bubble of plausible deniability. All that was left to assume was that Kaisa had actually found out that Johanna had feelings for her and was using it to make fun of her. Maybe she wouldn’t do it when she had full control of herself, but apparently whatever she was using to make her sound like that made the allure of the prank too sweet for her. And then, come morning, she must remember it and deny ever using anything at all, either because she knew what she was capable of under the influence or because she was well aware of the game she was playing and wanted to continue at it.

It was a joke, and Johanna was at the butt of it. She had to remind herself of this. Because otherwise, she’d never have been able to finally, on that third night, hang up on Kaisa while she uttered the most lovely words Johanna had ever heard.

…......

Everything had changed since the last time they’d talked. Johanna didn’t invite her out anymore. She didn’t stop by the library to see her ‘just because’. She didn’t go anywhere Kaisa frequented at all, at least not while she was there. She didn’t even answer her texts or pick up her phone. And the worst part was, Kaisa didn’t even know what she’d done. She knew she needn’t worry for the other woman, since the trio was at the library often and that gave Kaisa a chance to ask Hilda about her mother. Given that the girl had taken to glaring at her before saying Johanna was fine, thank you very much, she was left to believe she must have screwed up somehow, even if she couldn’t figure it out.

She’d resisted all of two weeks under these circumstances before she’d caved. Her mind screamed at her that she was being stupid all the while her feet were taking her to the apartment complex where she’d spent so many enjoyable evenings drinking tea and giggling over nothing, but she ignored it. Johanna should be the one to reach out to her and tell her what she’d done to deserve being ghosted like that, should look at her in the eyes and tell her how Kaisa could be better for her. But she hadn’t done so, and Kaisa couldn’t take it anymore. She wanted her best friend. And if that meant swallowing her fear and her pride, well. She’d been the one to screw up in the first place, hadn’t she?

Probably.

At least she’d resisted the urge to buy flowers before heading there. The art of toeing the blasted line lied at the mixed messages peppered in every gesture that could be interpreted as romantic, and she rather didn’t think there’d be anything mixed or up to interpretation about giving another woman a bouquet of white roses.

Kaisa knocked on her door, knowing that the woman must be home since it was still early enough for her to have interrupted her self-imposed work hours. She’d managed to sneak away from the library earlier than usual precisely for that reason, even if Johanna didn’t go out much either way. Her voice came from the other side, a soft ‘coming!’ muffled by the wall between them. When the door was opened. Johanna was wearing a carefully crafted serene expression. Which melted away immediately at the sight of Kaisa.

To the witch’s absolute horror, Johanna stepped away from her.

“Oh.” She breathed, her voice guarded. “It’s you.”

What the hell is that supposed to mean?, she wanted to scream. Instead, she frowned and nodded. “Yes. Hi, Anna.”

“What do you want?” Johanna snapped, crossing her arms. She didn’t sound or look pissed, though, only sad and even scared as she looked at Kaisa’s feet rather than her face. And tired. Very tired.

So was Kaisa, if she was honest. She hadn’t woken up feeling truly rested in weeks.

“Well-” Kaisa struggled for something to say. Johanna had always been the more well spoken between the two of them. She’d truly thought that she’d arrive here and only have to listen to her explain what was going on. Having to actually voice anything hadn’t been part of her plan. “Isn’t it obvious?”

The woman’s face snapped to her at that, anger in her eyes. Kaisa had never seen her like this. But then, she supposed, she’d never hurt the woman before either.

“If you’re going to tell me the same thing as the last times, just give up.” She stated, making sure her shoulders were set back, voice a lot less unwavering than she would have liked. “I’m not going to let you treat me like this.”

Kaisa gaped at her. “Wait.” She lifted a hand, suddenly feeling anger rise up in her own chest. “This is still about the prank calls you’ve been getting?”

No matter how strongly Kaisa felt she was the one who should be offended here, Johanna’s furrowed brows and pursed lips told her very clearly how affronted she was that Kaisa would have the gall to react the way she did.

“Stop it. I won’t hear you out if you’re only going to lie either. You should be going.”

“Yes, I really should, shouldn’t I?” Kaisa snapped, surprising both of them with the fire in her voice. She truly wasn’t able to help it in the face of Johanna’s coldness. For her friend - and calling her that now felt like a mockery to what they had - to toss her away like that without even hearing her out, she could only have been looking for a reason to fight with her. Just waiting for an excuse to get rid of the witch. Well, Kaisa wasn’t about to get in her way.

She turned her back to her and walked back the way she came with all the certainty she didn’t feel, letting the hurt drive her away. She’d thought Johanna was the better one between the two of them. She thought that she’d at least have been given a reason, an explanation, or a proper conversation instead of just being accused over nothing for the woman to justify throwing their friendship away to herself. Didn’t matter, though. Not anymore.

The sound of her shoes on the building’s staircase was loud as she stomped away. Loud enough to drown out the sound of Johanna’s sniffles.

…......

The phone rang, like it always did, at three in the morning. The headache that had been her companion for many days now screamed at the sound. Johanna was already awake, of course. Her body had developed some sort of pavlovian response and she now always woke up exactly at 2:55 a.m., anxious about her daughter being startled out of her slumber by the ringing.

She got up from the couch wearily, and picked it up. After a couple of seconds of looking at it, she actually brought it to her ears. After the third time, she’d taken to leaving it on the counter for about half an hour, before placing it back onto the hook. It wasn’t like Kaisa was ever interested in what she had to say, anyway, so it didn’t really matter, and Johanna was afraid she’d ring again if she just hung up on her. But she’d actually showed up that afternoon. Hadn’t acknowledged what she’d been doing, sure, hadn’t apologised or offered a semblance of an explanation. She’d even yelled at her, considering the standard low volume that her voice usually had. But maybe that meant she was willing to rethink, willing to maybe take a step back and undo this mess. Maybe she’d come to her senses at last, maybe she’d stopped using whatever had been making her act like that.

With foolish hope, Johanna dared to listen to her voice one last time.

“Hi, Johanna.” Said the dreamy, far away voice. So not sober, then. “I love you. Every time you smile at me I feel like I’m flying-”

She wanted to scream. Nothing had changed. Nothing would change. And Johanna was exhausted, from this dance, from this heartbreak, from not knowing when was the last time she had slept peacefully without being woken up by this blatant and cruel ridicule.

She listened. Johanna actually was pathetic enough to listen to twenty more minutes of Kaisa saying exactly how she felt every time they were together, because she wasn’t sure she’d ever hear that voice again. And when she could finally bring herself to, she put the phone handle on the kitchen counter, and opened one of the kitchen drawers.

The scissors were exactly where she always left them. They were only ever used to open up food packages, but that didn’t matter. They managed to cut the landline’s cable just fine.

…......

It had been a long time coming. Truly, what had led her to believe a woman as lovely as Johanna would want to give her the time of the day? Maybe she’d enjoyed it for a couple of months. She might have only been doing it to be charitable, making an awkward loner like Kaisa feel like she had someone to rely on. But it hadn’t lasted, because how could it? Kaisa was who she was, and nobody could stand her for long. Eventually, people realised they couldn’t change her. They realised she was too annoying, too boring, too offputting to stand. And if Johanna had chosen that way to break them off, did she really have the right to be angry? She’d probably been giving her signs she didn’t want Kaisa nearby for ages, but Kaisa never took a hint, did she?

It made sense, now. Johanna didn’t blush when Kaisa complimented her because she liked it. It was because she made her uncomfortable. Her eyes didn’t widen when Kaisa asked her out because she was pleased. She’d merely been caught without an excuse to refuse. She didn’t tease Kaisa about her quirks because she found them charming. They were either attempts at getting her to change her habits or straight up jabs, hidden behind sweet words and a honeyed voice.

There was no line. There had never been a line. Kaisa was just delusional and pushing for something she’d never have. Kaisa was unlovable. She knew she was unlovable, and had accepted that a long time ago. It was her own fault for letting gentle touches and soft spoken affirmations convince her otherwise, her own fault for being so utterly incapable of making alright decisions, her own fault for only ever having bad ideas.

Gods, she was drained.

[sweatertheman]

I thought I'd redo this by giving Harry a huge buff, assuming all his stats are at their maximum efficiency.

Max Stats Harry is an Incredibly Unstable Detective God. He is incredibly smart, able to make complex calculations quickly, act and lie with ease, and call upon random useless facts, but also totally blinded by his genius, constantly side-tracked by art and poetry, and compelled to lie for pretty much no reason. He is a master of his and others' emotions, in control of himself through almost any situarion, excluding ones to do with his ex-wife, feel others' emotions acutely, see the future, talk to the dead, and manipulate almost anyone to do what he wants, though this causes him to seem insane, and feel compelled to abuse this power. He's an ex-gym teacher, fast, strong, able to take any physical pain, excluding exposure to the pale, in touch with his instincts, and really likes drugs, but also really likes drugs, and feels compelled to threaten people and destroy things for no real reason. He has the steadiest of hands, can react instantly, pick up on the most invisible of senses, put up a tough facade, understand machines intimately, and is really, really cool, but is also incredibly jumpy and egotistical, and unable to open up emotionally.

He's really, really not okay emotionally, as the strain of knowing so much, hearing so much, feeling so much is killing him. He can take the pain, and he can force himself to get up and detect every day, but the pain is still there. All it takes is one fuck-up, one reminder of his wife, one crack in his tough exterior, and he'll want to go and kill himself. For the sake of making the fight more fair, Harry is equipped with his pistol and 6 bullets, and the full set of Fairweather T-500 Vitreous Enamel armour.

As for God Tier Vriska, it's Vriska, in all her broken, piece of shit mass murderer glory. Flight via the use of some kind of pixie wings, semi-immortality excluding just or heroic deaths, probability manipulation, and mind control. Outwardly, Vriska appears cold, and like a massive 8itch. She mocks everyone, attacls everyone, kills everyone, all with the same asshole grin on her face. Her persona is that of someone with the utmost confidence in herself, someone heartless and vile, cruel and mocking, someone who enjoys killing, but not before squeezing every last bit of suffering out of her victims. With her mind control also comes mind reading. She is privy to what others feel and why and uses it to her advantage. However, on the inside, if I am understanding her correctly, Vriska is actually a rather insecure and broken teenage girl. She kills first to feed her giant spider guardian thing, and second because its part of her persona, the kind of person she has come to idolize as an Alternian. A cold blooded killer. In reality, she derives no real pleasure from any of her immoral acts. They serve only to drown out her insecurity. She's canonically a rapist, mind controlling the wimp boy into kissing her only to throw him aside when it makes her feel nothing. The most profound experience she ever had was when, shortly before her death, she reflects on the time she killed said wimp boy. She actually felt bad, which was something she didn't understand. She couldn't figure out why she killed someone she actually liked. Vriska is also a horrible strategist. She's impulsive and quick to act on emotion, driven solely by her urge to be in total control, and to appear powerful. This causes her to be tricked by Cue Ball Man into killing someone she was mad at, and into creating an unbeatable foe, simply so she could gain the noteriety of killing him herself. In short, she's a profoundly broken and empty monster, driven solely by an endless pit of insecurity, given unreasonable amounts of power she isnt able to use to the best of her ability.

Who would win in a fight?

[calamitous-magpie]

Did you ever read or have your name read aloud in class as part of a story/poem/math problem? If so how did you feel about it?

I can vividly remember reading ahead and spotting my name and feeling my stomach drop like it does on a roller coaster but bad. I hated it so much, everyone looking at you and grinning when the name was read and like no I have no affiliation with this person or their actions do not look upon me and judge.

*Asks are sent for fun, no pressure to answer within a certain amount of time or at all.*

Not that I can think of! Maybe once in a math problem. Pretty sure I owned that unreasonable amount of watermelons with glee. Definitely haven't encountered poetry or books in-class that featured my name. It's a pretty common name, but it's pretty modern (or at least, it sounds very modern. It could be Tiffany Problem 2.0. I have no idea). Actually, thinking about it, I'm not sure I've encountered my name in any fiction book.

Thanks for the ask!

[gray-wednesday]

Just Mac gushing about books

For an engineering major, I check out an absurd amount of books from my school's library. And I check out most of them from the humanities library because I enjoy fiction and poetry. However, this past semester, there were structural issues in the humanities library stacks (bc old), so 70% of the books were unavailable and I didn't feel like going to the STEM library bc I thought it was mostly just scientific journals and textbooks.

However, I went there the other day to study with my friend that's in one of my classes that had a really terrifying final, and we took a study break to look around the stacks. Anyway, I found the alchemy section. And I checked out a small medieval treatise which was short enough to return before finals ended thinking that I would only be able to keep it until some unreasonable due date in early January that it would be impossible to make because I'd be at home in another state. However, I was elated to learn that I could actually keep it until early next semester!

So then, I went back yesterday and checked out two more books specifically to read over break. And I'm just so happy and so excited, I am healed:

So the green one is Hermetic Philosophy and Alchemy by M. A. Atwood, which is "a suggestive inquiry into 'the Hermetic Mystery' with a dissertation on the more celebrated of the alchemical philosophers." And the red one is The Engineering of Medieval Cathedrals, edited by Lynn T. Courtenay, which is a study in the history of civil engineering of gothic architecture, and it has pictures!!!

TL;DR I checked out books from the library on Hermetic philosophy and alchemy and gothic architecture, topics which currently interest me, and am very pleased that they're letting me keep them over winter break.

[redwinesupernova]

i'm only getting the echoes of the drama, and as an outsider i was wondering if you could clarify what the problem was? to me, it seems normal to reblog a post where someone is happy about something, since that seems like a supportive gesture. like saying congrats, without using those words? congrats on the car, btw!

i need to turn off getting tumblr asks in email form. anyways. it was a very specific post. i dont know this person. they reblogged it and didnt say anything or congratulate me like youve implied??? and then they sent me an ask about their own car and location that was way too personal and i just found it annoying.

usually when i tell people to not reblog a post they can be a good sport about it but this grown adult took it personally and sent their friends who are like twice my age after me to harass me. all because i didnt want a post that was personal reblogged by someone i didnt know and because i didnt specifically say dont reblog/turn off the reblog function. i dont think this is unreasonable and the amount of people being fucking stupid about it is ridiculous.

i got a billion fucking asks about this being “the reblog site” and if they want to reblog posts so bad they can go into my poetry tag or something. but being really casual with me is weird

[fakesmade]

𝗤 .         Which DND culture suits you?

Gnome. You’re excitable, enthusiastic, and there never seem to be enough hours in the day to do everything that you want to do. You either have a ton of wildly different interests, or a select few interests that you devote unreasonable amounts of time to. Either way, you do what you can to make sure that you’re never bored. When you get started talking about something that excites you, you find it hard to stop. You have a great sense of humor and you don’t mind laughing at yourself as well. You’re a risk-taker who is sometimes on the impulsive side, and the risks you take might not always work out for you, but you don’t mind because it’s a great learning experience. You’re a curious and creative person who loves trying new things and may be into technology or the arts. If you feel like you’re more of a mischievous or stealthy person, or if you feel drawn to the forest, you may relate to Forest Gnomes. If you feel more connected to your creative or stubborn side, you may relate to Rock Gnomes. If you feel like you’re a more reserved person who takes a while to get comfortable enough to share your enthusiastic side, you may relate to Deep Gnomes.

𝗤 .         Which DND class suits your personality?

Bard. You’re a storyteller at heart and you may have a bit of a Thing about attention and validation. You’re a natural improviser and you’re great at adapting to situations at a moment’s notice using whatever resources you have at your disposal. You can’t stand being bored. You’re very creative and you probably have a great sense of style. You’re honestly just here for a good time, and you live for drama.

𝗤 .         What's your bard college?

Creation. Bards believe the cosmos is a work of art - the creation of the first dragons and gods. That creative work included harmonies that continue to resound through existence today, a power known as the Song of Creation. The bards of the College of Creation draw on that primeval song through dance, music, and poetry. You’re a thoughtful and imaginative person who feels best when you’re making something new. You appreciate creativity for its own sake and you love being able to look back on something you’ve done and think about how you made it out of nothing. You may have a bit of a philosophical streak or be interested in thinking about life’s big questions. You see potential in the world all around you, life like a blank slate waiting to be filled in or a lump of clay just waiting to be shaped.

[thefootnotes]

writing masterlist ✮ fics in the one direction, rwrb, hamilton: an american musical, and marauders fandoms. nevermoor and the fault in our stars works coming soon. my poetry is all available on @thelostboyschapter. my 9-1-1 fics are on @reyesdiaz!!!!!!

key ✮ 💕 is a happy fic ❤️‍🔥 is a sad fic ⭐ is a gen fic 📚 is part of a series 📖 is a longfic 🌓 is an unfinished work

one direction ✮ underneath the mistletoe💕 Louis Tomlinson is Doncaster's biggest grinch. Harry Styles is Manchester Uni's biggest Merry-maker. Zayn Malik is close friends with both, and the pair meet at an - in Louis' opinion, unnecessarily festive - party.

tear away my tattoos❤️‍🔥 Louis and Harry are no longer Louis And Harry. Now they've broken up, and every infliction on their skin is a reminder of the other; if they could tear away their tattoos, they would, because the pain of losing one another was difficult enough; and their hearts break every time they're reminded; Louis lost a soulmate; and he will be marked for life.

just for a moment❤️‍🔥 Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson broke up five years ago. Harry moved on. But a brief run-in at the 2020 Brits awards leaves him fearful that he never genuinely recovered from the infatuation.

grey hairs💕 Louis and Harry fell in love when they were young. They haven't fallen out of it yet.

greatest fear❤️‍🔥 Louis Tomlinson is scared of very little. Heights? No. Spiders? Not particularly. Lava? Not an unreasonable amount; it's literally fire in liquid form, you should be a touch scared. He does, however, have one fear; losing Harry.

hold on❤️‍🔥📖 Harry Styles finds his fiance, Louis Tomlinson, near to death on a bathroom floor. Cause: Attempted suicide. When Louis is hospitalized, it's all Harry can do to hold himself together, even as his life falls apart around him. Zayn turns up, with ensuing chaos, proposals for a 1D reunion arise, and in the midst of it all, Louis lies comatose in a hospital bed.

orange juice❤️‍🔥📖 Harry is an ex-alcoholic, and Louis Tomlinson's ex-lover. Once Harry sobers up from the drink, he sobered up from the young love. He doesn't need Louis anymore. But just because he doesn't need him, doesn't mean he can't want him...

gone❤️‍🔥📖⭐ Zayn Malik was anorexic, anxious, and severely depressed. Zayn Malik was Louis Tomlinson's' best friend. Key word: Was. Zayn Malik is gone.

they're singing deck the halls❤️‍🔥📖 Louis Tomlinson is no fan of Christmas. Between his douchebag ex-husband/co-parent, his two teenage kids, and the awful fact of his torn-apart family, the holiday season isn't looking to be all that festive. But maybe a boy's trip with his closest friends will lead him to something that'll make the season a little more bearable. Or the one where Louis' a bit of a grinch, Harry's a gorgeous present, and there's more weight to the past than either of them would like.

silence❤️‍🔥 Louis Tomlinson is by no means a quiet person. The silence bothers him more than it should, and Harry has made a habit of silence; or, at the very most, whispers that feel silent. fic post.

falling like the stars💕 Perhaps they were something of a cliché. If Disney considered homosexuality marketable, their televised power-couple-ness would be unbeaten by any other. Harry wraps an arm around Niall, hand resting warmly on his waist, pulling him tight into his side. “I may’ve done something. And you might like it.” Or the one where Harry’s very good at surprises, Niall has awful music taste, and the Horan-Styles household is about to get much more chaotic.

hamilton: an american musical ✮

watch the sun rise📖🌓 Alexander Hamilton has seen hell and come out of it, in the last eighteen years. Between his drunk, abusive father, his dead mother, and the foster families he’s had to endure since, a college such as this always seemed so impossible, let alone finding someone willing to put up with the baggage of his past. But on arrival, he quickly finds himself tightly entangled with his French roommate’s friend; and finds that maybe, even after it all, there’s someone that he can hold onto. fic post

here's to forever💕 If John Laurens had faith in anything in this world, it was that he and Alex were meant for each other. Soulmates weren’t scientifically provable, no, but they were indubiously compatible, similarly opinionated, seeking only comfort in the other. They were, undeniably, perfect for each other. Like the last two pieces of the jigsaw puzzle. Or the one where Alex loves John, John loves Alex, and “forever” is a possibility that might just come true.

living just comes with a bit of heartache📚❤️‍🔥 Marti Reynolds hasn’t encountered real transphobia since he left high school; college was supposed to be a safe haven, but apparently adult life has its bullies. Or the one where Marti is no stranger to transphobia, Hayden is a stranger to Marti Reynolds, and both of them need a shoulder. fic post.

we built it up so high, and now i'm falling❤️‍🔥 Yet now that Alex is asleep on the couch, and John in the bed they used to share, it’s become something far more incomprehensible. How they ever fell apart, he doesn’t know. Their friends used to claim it as a love for the ages, and it was something so widely accepted as an inspiration for Alex’s first novel. Maybe that was the problem after all; maybe when they thought it so safe, they’d both decided to let the effort slide. Or the one where John loves Alex, Alex loves John, and sometimes you need a little more than that to make it work. fic post.

that's a funny way of staying "friends"💕 Alex knew from the start that the age gap between him and George could cause certain… divides. He also knows that the men George has as coworkers are extraordinarily fit, and meet his maturity far better than Alex ever has. And maybe he shouldn’t be this jealous only a few weeks into such endeavours, but he is. He truly is. fic post.

challenge collections ✮

whumptober 2023

whumpcember 2023

whumpuary 2024 - masterpost

[johnandtracyslittleones]

Haven Box Christmas School: Christmas Spices

This week could easily have been called Holiday Baking!

Poetry & Books

I couldn’t get any of the suggested books from the library this week (Competition for holiday books is fierce). I managed to snag a couple that featured baking in them, but that’s about all. We also read the poems offered for this week.

Science & Nature

Holiday Cookie Chemistry Lab! Our guide provided us with the info about the components of a holiday cookie:

Fat+Sugar+Egg+Leavening+Flour+Salt=Cookie!

I found a generic cookie dough recipe for them to experiment with so we would have the right proportions, then set out different options for fat, sugar and flour (I have an unreasonable amount of baking options). They each got to make a half batch. The guide explained the purpose of each element in the recipe, which we discussed before they added to their batter.

Kira’s mix included butter, a blend of powdered and brown sugar, and both oat and white flours. Jamie chose coconut oil, light and dark brown sugar, and a blend of almond flour and gluten free flour.

The next step was adding the Christmas Spices! The guide nicely explained what they are and how they are sourced. Then the kids each chose their spices and quantities - Jamie did cinnamon, nutmeg and vanilla while Kira did cinnamon, nutmeg and ginger.

Both batches turned out tasty, and it was fun to spot the differences each choice made. They LOVED this activity, and I wouldn’t be surprised if they asked to do it again in the future.

Nature Play

Our friends have left town for the rest of the year, so our nature play this week took place at the playground with Jules :)

Forest to Table

We made the recipe for cinnamon buns for breakfast last weekend before ice skating. I made the dough the night before, but they helped with the fillings. Did you know the first cinnamon roll was made in 1920 in Sweden? That feels far too recent…

Art & Handwork

For handwork, Kira made a delicious smelling orange and clove pomander. We enjoyed reading the history of citrus at Christmas from our guide to go along with it.

Another suggested handwork was making gingerbread ornaments. We have plenty of ornaments from last week, so we built our gingerbread house instead.

For music appreciation we learned the history of Jingle Bells and listened to several versions of it. We studied Deer in the Snowy Forest for art appreciation.

Field Trips

Does a field trip to Grandma and Grandpa’s house to bake cookies count? I think so! We baked and decorated holiday cookies with the family. They turned out really cute.

We also went caroling in the neighborhood, and lovely neighbors offered lots of home baked and store bought cookies and hot cider. Lots of holiday spices to be sampled 😁

[jaybird3756]

It’s wild how some schools divide the students in a year into strict groups like class A and class B. I went to one of those schools for middle school and that shit was insane. To make it worse, once you were in a class, you were in that class for life. Class A students would never have classes with those class B losers.

And the rivalry was epic. It really was. Class A had such a sense of superiority of being the better, smarter, quirkier class while class B had a rabid inferiority complex about being not as good, having the lamer students, and not getting into as many “situations” as class A. No class A student would be caught dead in the lunchroom associating with a class B kid. (Unless you sat at the reject table, like me) Our cliques formed around those class assignments. Inter-Class dating was like Romeo and Juliet level drama and we payed more attention to it than we did the actual Romeo and Juliet play we had to read.

There was one steady couple between a Class A it girl and a class B boy who was the worse twin of a class A kid. Their relationship actually outlasted middle school and they ended up going to prom together and we’re probably the first kids in our year to consensually lose their virginities.

Class A and class B had a really big rivalry in School-Sanctioned poetry battles, which were lame for requiring the whole class to spend a considerable amount of time memorizing poetry, but we’re cool because you could blow off class to go shout poems at another class. Class A and class B constantly poetry attacked each other, and our teachers had their own friendly rivalry on whose kids could recite better and also the amount of times they interrupted each other’s classes.

One time, Class A’s homeroom teacher was pissed that he had to come to school on a snow day, so he forgot the poetry thing all together and we went out and filled buckets with snow to go throw at class B while they were in their gym shorts.

I don’t have fond memories of of that middle school at all and I definitely hated all of my classmates, but we will forever be bonded by our unreasonable amount of pride that We Belonged to Class A

[auntpelvis]

The Crowhurst yew in Surrey is 4000 years old today (Taxus Baccata)

The cannon bled you in 1643.

Sinew splintering under iron,

heart(wood) struck deep.

Sap spews from ruptured bark.

Gutted, there is no exit wound,

instead,

stress knots,

blooming into burls.

Trauma internalised,

you swallow it whole.

  Language truncates through your trunk.

Count the rings back, as sapwood

of seasons long gone.

A remembrance

to the places you once stood:

Crowshurst becoming

Croghyrst,

Croherst,

Crauhurste.

your roots in Crow wood.

When forest surrounded,

and salt waves lapped at the seeds of the village.

  Adorned with a door in 1820,

they disemboled you.

Deadwood interiors hide

your webbing veil.

Red brown and rouged,

the gauze lifts, revealing

a cannons ball,

a stopped fly, cocooned

in bark wrappings.

  Civil war forgotten now,

the same soldiers sleep

beneath your shaded boughs,

roots growing through the bones.

Just submitted my creative writing portfolio 7 minutes before the deadline so here’s another poem hehe 😎😎😎

[mouisorange]

Self Awareness | Rook Hunt

If love is blind, then Rook must have never had eyes to begin with, for the hunter need not see their prey to know how much they desire the sweet, skittering animal beyond the tree-line. 

Twisted Wonderland - Self Aware Masterlist

[ Warning/s ] yandere; stalking; manipulative behavior; Rook being Rook x10; delusional mindset; self-aware characters; non-proof read; 

There wasn’t any kind of ‘Eureka!’ moment he could recall, no sudden spark of awareness waking him up from bundled coding. The only time he had ever reeled in surprise was the moment he heard of a mysterious student from another dimension, you. Well, you as in Yuu, your catalyst that moved the apparent story along. 

He wouldn’t say life was stagnant before his junior year. If you could ask, he’d easily describe how interesting life had been, before Yuu. Watching Leona, the Twins, attempted watching of Malleus; he rarely struggled to stay busy with the multiple persons of interest that the college had gathered into a single campus. Seven forbid anyone ask him what hearing about Yuu was like (much less ‘meeting’ Yuu or his first conversation with him). He was so unlike anyone he’d ever seen before, not visually, but internally? Interesting would be an unreasonable understatement; with every word, every new action, Rook tripped further into himself. An endless void of obsession he welcomed, beckoned, with open arms and an open heart, a cute, Yuu shaped void. 

But if Yuu was a black hole—you were a warm pond of freshwater connected to a cold river of steel, Rook a fish cooking himself alive trying to reach the speeding river’s end. Before his part, interacting with the Housewarden was achingly impossible. Though, unlike the few others who froze a few steps away weeks (some, months) trying to reach for a cookie in the jar, tearing their coding apart trying the same approach expecting a different outcome to the same equation, Rook swiftly found his own loophole, stalking around the still wall around Yuu. 

Just as he accepted the small freshman’s backstory, he happily pocketed the idea of his existence being one of zeros and ones. What did it matter if he was of text and not flesh? It made no difference, and the thought process did not change his reality. Rook was not cold, undone numbers, at least, it did not feel that way. Nothing changed except for his sheer hunger for more. 

Yuu was an interesting vessel, one that had quickly overtaken any desire outside of him, even the impossible Draconia, but you clogged every little crack in his skull. Every breath matching Yuu’s own (did your vessel share your lungs?), every thought reaching for your voice, every dream filled with what he imagined you could appear as–unfortunately, a shaky aura at best with his shifting subconscious. 

Rook had no means of connecting with you more than waxing poetry to a blurred visage he could only assume was Yuu (he doubted Yuu actually looked anything like you, though he’d be lying should he deny that the thought had crossed his mind a few times, only until Leona’s part of your play at least), but Yuu’s lack of anything said otherwise. Nonetheless, Rook didn’t mind throwing his affection to his beloved, disembodied, outsider. He didn’t take offense to the silence given in return to his confessions, scripted lines just as honeyed as his scorching love. You feel the same, he’s sure, why would he see you so often otherwise (he could think of other reasons, but a man held in the grips of devotion was allowed to daydream–he’s sure you’d agree.)? Day to day, nearly without fail Yuu would suddenly lose any little amount of character; though he barely had much of a distinctive personality beyond your influence; and you took up the reins, gently nudging the events unfolding around the campus. 

How loose did you steer the new housewarden? Was Yuu even anything more than a pair of eyes? Ramshackle’s occupant only gave questions, cluelessly wandering around any answer he desired; stepping over holes in the code with cloth covering his eyes. Though, in the warden’s defense, Rook couldn’t exactly change his voice lines when your eyes were on him. The little room he had for asking usually was taken up by either Yuu’s spacy attitude outside of your influence or by other students (especially when the burning acid of awareness begins splashing in unbiased droplets). 

As much as he should find annoyance in it, Rook found none. Any and all minor grievances gently brushed out of his skull the moment he saw you, the light in Yuu’s otherwise neutral soul. He didn’t mind the box placed around him, a loosely defined line of code for his actions, his words, but not his mind, nor his heart. As much as he may like to break out of this loop of his pre-chosen world, there was no friction for him to latch onto. Rook could only admire you from a distance, through Yuu, his only saving grace settled in fantasy. 

And admiring Yuu, he did thoroughly. Like a child leaving toys to rot in dust in favor of a new, soft, and sweet teddy bear, you overtook Rook like a deadly fever; one that he had actively sought to catch. His thoughts ran like wildfire, dreams and curiosity intertwining in such a way that he couldn’t recall if they had ever been separate to begin with. Every waking moment, every subconscious desire, festering under the noble surface of a put-together hunter: the sweet high of you filled him more than any meal could only crave to. The unanswered questions only added dried peppers to his high, wonders and ‘what-if’s tearing him open from the inside out. But if it meant he could gaze at you, not the young warden, not the coding, not the disembodied affection from a distorted Yuu, but if he could be allowed even a moment of basking in your beauty? He would help the illness tear him apart, smiling all the while his blood spilled for you. 

So, then, who were you? Were you a shy lamb to be slotted in the wolf’s den? Perhaps they were the sheep and you the wolf coated in sickly sweet cotton? Neither would disappoint him, rather, Rook was more than elated to devour or to be devoured by his heart’s darling Helen. Surely you cared, there would be no other reason for you to return every day, to gently tug on coded leads, to spend time combing through stories, listening to unchanging voice lines, to watch unshifting actions. Plot-line after plot-line, he watched unblinking your heavy trudge through inky mud, rarely thanked beyond the Headmaster’s jovial praises (he’d never felt jealousy before you, before watching Crowley half-heartedly give attention he desperately needed to soak you in, to sing his devotion until he was sure you’d taken all he’s given: then, he’d pile his praises into a box for a dry day that’d never come so long as he was by your side.). 

With little to no means to discover anything solely with his two hands, one of Rook’s key characteristics leave him with more means than many shot with lucidity: his patience. The only rush he felt did nothing but add dry wood to his obsession, leaving his desires to root further into his flesh, but even poor hunters know better than to shoot before aiming: and Rook prefers to understand his prey very intimately before pouncing. 

He knows his way around the many unique personas piled into the college, and few (if any) can stray from his gaze. Sudden shifts in behavior interested him before Yuu, but under your light, he notices turmoil in his peers before some of these same peers realize it themselves. This turmoil seeps through the already shaky structures, crumbling onto the vessel that built most of them to begin with. 

Rook knows how to choose his prey, this much is no surprise to anyone who knew him well, few as they seemed to be. Fewer were those who could read him beyond deciding that he was simply Rook Hunt, the strange, yet helpful, vice-warden of Pomefiore. He knew the stage and was content to play his role according to the code, outside of sweetening his tone when he knew you would hear it. 

Yet it was backstage that kept his attention, where he noted when others began withdrawing, silently stepping back as compared to their distraught counterparts, who anxiously, painfully, chased the attention of someone they projected their own concepts onto, yet knew nothing about. Rook, possessive of his chosen prey, would rather not share your attention, much less with persons who lacked the cognizance to view you beyond the locked persona of Yuu. But his was the devoted lover, heartbroken at the thought of never knowing the feeling of being romanticized in return, and he knew better than to ignore necessary compromises in his relationship with you. 

So he took to chipping away at any firewall he could find, pushing against cracks in the code so he could give you more of his cards, more of him, and hope you’d give him more of you in return. During the beginning, when Rook was your sole chasseur d'amour, you likely stared at your card collection wondering how you managed to get all of his so early on (and even during other characters’ summoning events–?). Love was a great conflict of heart, of mind, and of soul, but your castle, ta tour, found himself more than ready to rebuild his foundation, his internal working, to better suit Yuu’s luck. 

He knew well enough that his reach just barely brushed against the line holding him to his place on the board, that pre-determined voice lines had made no promise to hold your eyes on him. Rook welcomed the heartbreak, just as he welcomed most new unfoldings, intrigue filled every choice you made and he drank it regardless of how it burned at times. He adored every moment you touched, every scene laid out before you, every moment he was allowed near Yuu, near you. For what better way to peak into your soul in the manner you’ve touched his? There was none, not while he was inside, and you were outside. 

Rook needed another like-mind to comb through the many cracks in the wall between Twisted Wonderland and your land beyond. Few had the capabilities to force pressure against their little box, fewer that could be trusted to genuinely work together without underlying plans (despite fully planning to worm his way around any promises barring him from losing himself while dragging down with him.) 

Ignihyde was the clearest answer–it’s warden rather obviously acting out of his previous role, drifting further than even himself. Idia’s distance from his peers fitted him into a nicely furnished target for Rook to exploit and reward; after all, he wasn’t one to take without giving in return. The decision was the easy part, and trust, the hard. But just as he, the devoted lover, analyzed your grasp on the plot; Idia, the desperate ‘Roi de Ta Chambre’, too, stared unblinking into unforgiving ones and zeros, trembled for a grain of the smallest give in the system. And desperate was the nail, just as Rook’s knowledge was the hammer; for what could Idia do in the face of something he did not know of you? 

Nothing, he would do nothing against you; nothing, at least, that Rook didn’t want out of the hermit of a housewarden. Trust was hard-earned, but under pressure; like coal wishing to shine; trust was brittle-and easily handled. It cracked like a crabe désespéré hunting for its favorite shell after a harsh surge of clarity. 

Rook couldn’t blame le crabe, though, for he tumbled through the same waters, trying to roll with the current, craving sunlight despite unknowing what might be beyond a life confined to salty coral. 

Should either of them continue with broken design? Questions flowed back and forth, yet the answer remained locked into place, stronger than encoded squares scattered upon a patterned wall. The answer settled, unspoken, the moment you brushed their minds.

So, votre chasseur passionné would happily trail behind Yuu, pulling anyone he needed along, sickeningly sweet words festering in his throat, awaiting moments when he could pour them into your loving hands.

Would you love him as deeply as he loved you? Would you have fallen into him just the same, had you been in Yuu’s place? Would you still, when the time came when you met him–face to face? 

Perhaps not; immediately, that is. But I wouldn’t worry, for any hunter worth their score knew patience as deeply as their aim. Time was on his side, his current outflowed any struggle your stream could manage against his affections. You really should let him glide you along the reef, for an affectionate hunter is better than a starved predator, don’t you think?

Like a dog memorizing the time of dinner, Rook memorized your schedule as best he could; as much as anyone looking through the false face of a two-sided mirror could; and like a dog, he stalked around the entry-ways of your house, Yuu, looking for flickers of shadows through the windows in hopes that someone will walk through the door at any given moment. 

Oh, he’d seen you fall into Yuu, many, many times; Rook adored seeing it every time. He loved seeing you breathe new life into Yuu so much, so much that he’d somehow managed to forget about snapping a picture until it was too late, every time. He’d gotten close the last few times, yet always a moment too early, too late. 

It wasn’t frustrating though, he’d never feel such a way towards sa lumière d'amour. Rather the opposite; each failure only served to deepen his determination to immortalize the sight. 

Rook wasn’t worried about distractions this time around, little Yuu sitting alone for once in their day. He could approach, and get a closer view of the event he knew would likely be happening in a few minutes (your visits were always only moments apart on days like these), but surely that’d encourage others to follow suit. To view you coming quietly, was worth the hours spent staring, constantly analyzing the atmosphere, was worth it if the reward was to see how you filled Yuu’s eyes with life naturally. Without the walls put in place to avoid the eyes of those not meant to see, to truly come as you please. Such were his thoughts, at least. Maybe it didn’t really affect you as much.

No matter the case, he sat a few meters in front of Yuu, waiting for his next meal. For the soft buzz that filled his head and poured adoration into his skull through any open hole, for the moments he would unusually struggle to focus. Those were the moments he meant to capture, the ones where his eyes alone were not enough to take you in and glaze at every crack in Yuu he could find in that moment, as Yuu was able to. Yet, as Yuu seemed to begin to nod off at their desk of books, and the air thickened; as his heartbeat deafened anything outside of watching, hoping he’d see you once more. The warm ringing in his ears seemed to only quicken with the need to look away, look away from something he wasn’t supposed to see, wasn’t designed to see. Yet, his heart kept him in place, drumming against the thick hum, holding his limbs still with a heavy hug. Yet, still, he wanted to see, he would see. He’d dig his claws into the ground and wait until his vision blurred–and when he could focus, Yuu was gone, dragged off by you to… .  .    .

..Ah. He forgot again.