jaynerose

[jaynerose]

I audition for the role of Ophelia.

Ophelia might be 18. She might be 25. We don’t know. We know she’s young and pretty. I’m 27 and fairly pretty. I’m not young.

The director says he won’t cast someone who “looks” older than 25. I know this means he won’t cast someone who looks older than he thinks 25-year-olds look like.

The truth is, your face when you’re 27 is the same face as when you’re 25. The truth is, your face when you’re 25 is usually the same as when you’re 23. It changes sometime in the night when you’re 21.

Your face when you’re 20 is your face when you’re 18 is usually very close to your face when you’re 16. But when you audition for a 16-year-old when you’re 16, you lose the role to someone who’s 25.

You realize that all of those teenagers you watched in movies growing up were adults. They needed to be beautiful. They needed to be desired. Not awkward, growing, acne, baby fat cheeks.

That’s why you never looked like them. You wanted so badly to look like them.

Now 27 is too old for 25 and you spent your life waiting to look old enough to look young until you’re too old to look your age.

I lie. He can’t tell whether I’m 23-25-27 or whatever age at which a woman is disqualified.

I get the role. I meet the actor playing Hamlet. He’s 45. I meet the actress playing Hamlet’s mother, and she’s 30.

God forbid a woman looks like she was born before she gave birth.

Imagine if she looked like a mother.

Would Ophelia like to be a mother?

Would she have to look like one? With stretch marks and tired eyes from late nights nursing her baby?

Would she have to grow up?

Luckily for Ophelia, she drowns before she gets the chance.

Luckily for me, I still look young enough for the audience to care.

Ophelia and I leave behind a perfect corpse. And happily, because who leaves flowers at a grave with crows feet and smiles lines?

The play is a tragedy, so we don’t smile much, anyway. Luckily.

The people will cry because I’m worthy enough to die,

and happy Ophelia will never become too old to play herself.

—

Ophelia— a somewhat lazy poem I recently found buried in my notes app.

[jaynerose]

#artists #ai

You know what makes me the most upset about the use of AI in our culture? It's not just removing artists from art or devaluing human creativity -- it's treating people like they're disposable.

Oh, you're not that special. We have computers to do that now. If you died tomorrow, we have your image. We have your voice. We have your biometric data. We can just duplicate you, it's no problem. Who needs flesh and blood? Who needs agency and free thought? Who needs the human soul? You're just a tool. And when we're done with you, we'll just toss you aside and find someone else.

Creatives, listen to me, and listen to me good: you have a voice and it matters. There is no one in the history of the world who is exactly like you, in this time or this place. There is no one who thinks like you, acts like you, speaks like you, moves like you. There is nobody else built like you. Nobody else with your unique experiences and outlook of the world. You are a product of history, of culture, of art, of love, of pain, of possibility. Don't let them take that from you.

[jaynerose]

It's always, why aren't you in class? Why don't you go outside and meet people? Don't you realize I am listening to Fleetwood Mac's Landslide and Crying like a Grown Woman??

[jaynerose]

Not Tonight

(Inspired by this prompt by @deepwaterwritingprompts ) 

The moon won’t let us sleep. She’s angry with someone, and no one in the village rests until they’re punished.

Everyone in the village was haunted by a new fear. This fear took the form of the “Wandering”. That’s what the moon sickness was called. It took the form of people unable to sleep walking aimlessly through the woods and towards the ocean. Searching for something that was out of their grasp. 

The telltale sign was when a shining sliver of light appeared in the person’s eyes. They had been marked. It was a true terror to look in a mirror and know that you were staring at a ghost. 

The cause of the moon’s wrath had yet to be identified. Not for lack of trying. The people searched high and low, but they would never be found. 

I know this because I wouldn’t let them. 

No one knows that it was me. No one knows how I reached into the waters and stole her reflection. The moon was looking for her sister, her twin that so often rested in the waters on earth. 

I’ve always been gifted with the Craft. I could hear spiders sing me to sleep when I was a child and by the time I had reached maturity I could walk into the mist as a woman and leave as a raven. 

Perhaps it was the raven side to me that was what called my hands to commit the crime. A yearning for something shining and mine to keep.

I couldn’t help it. I don’t see how any person possibly could. I’ve spent hours staring up at the sky, wishing I could have a piece of it to hold onto. Then, I looked down into my pond and realized I could.

Stealing the moon’s reflection had been easy. However, as the days pressed on I realized that keeping it would pose a problem.

She spoke to me, the reflection.  Her voice was calm, soothing me with a false promise.

“Please, set me back into the waters. My sister is worried and she will reward you for my release.”

I simply shook my head and replied, “Not tonight.”

Eventually, the village began to dwindle so low in numbers that an investigator had been sent out by the nearby city. I had never encountered such an opponent, I sensed a new kind of cleverness in her, and unfortunately she sensed one in me. 

Still, we had become friends. It wasn’t until I showed her my treasure that she betrayed me. 

Once again the reflection asked, “Please set me free, soon my sister will know and she’ll find you.”

My reply again, “Not tonight.”

Soon, what remained of the village turned on me. Not that they were anything to fear, it was the moon who would be the source of my terror. 

For a night and a day nothing happened. I thought that perhaps the moon had decided to forfeit her sister to me. It wasn’t until I looked into my mirror I realized a bright moonlit sliver glancing back in my eyes that I knew what I must do.

Carefully, I delivered the stolen reflection back to the waters. Once returned I begged, “Please, have mercy.”

The only reply I heard in return was, “Not tonight.” 

[jaynerose]

The Stars (P.2)

(Here is part one, thanks to everyone for the support! @innerwinnerlove here is a part two, I wasn’t originally going to continue this but thought I’d give it a shot. A bit of backstory to the current situation.)

~Ten Years Ago~

The smell of warm bread was the only thing anchoring Hero to the earth beneath her.

Villain had managed to snatch a loaf from the bakery and they were currently enjoying their prize in a more hidden part of the forest. 

“Thank the gods, I thought I was going to have to eat grass if I didn’t eat something soon.” Hero murmured between mouthfuls.

Villain snorted, “Forget the gods, they didn’t have anything to do about it.” 

“Don’t say that, they could be out there, watching us.”

“Watching a couple of dirt covered, rat-haired, kids? I doubt it.”

Hero raised a hand to her head self-consciously. “I don’t know, I like to think something or someone is looking out for me.” 

“Yeah, that someone is me.” Villain’s face broke into a mischievous smile, “Does that make me a god?”

“I think it just makes you my friend.” Hero replied fondly.

Hero loved it when Villain smiled. It was rare, so being the cause of it felt special. 

“Can you promise me something?” Hero asked.

“Uh-oh, you’ve got that look in your eyes,” Villain mocked, “What is it? You want pie next time?”

“No! I just- you know what, forget it.”

Villain just laughed and crept a bit closer, “It’s too late now, you have to tell me. Come on, Hero. What is it?”

Hero mentally cursed at herself. 

“Alright fine, it’s just that I’d like you to promise me that we’ll stick together, no matter what.”

“Oh.”

“I know that’s a lot, it’s just after Lily disappeared, I’m worried-”

“I promise.”

Hero was a bit taken aback. “Really?”

Villain looked back down at the last bit of his bread and shrugged. “Of course.”

~Five Years Ago~

Hero had held onto that promise, held onto Villain. 

It wasn’t until Villain had gotten caught by the royal guard, stealing something he shouldn’t have, that they were separated. It was one of the most stressful weeks of Hero’s life. She didn’t sleep, she mostly blamed herself and patrolled the streets, looking for any sign of her friend. That familiar smile. 

She had barely enough time to catch a breath of relief when he had returned before it was announced that he was the Chosen One. When the guards had caught him, they found him with an ancient amulet in hand, glowing with a promise.

Apparently, he was prophesized to bring about a new era of peace to the kingdom. He was their shining savior, a hero.

Villain had scoffed at this at first. Ranting to Hero about the responsibilities he never asked for, how the people around him were so fake. But she saw it, then. There was a look in his eyes now, not the old hunger for stolen bread, but a new kind of hunger. 

“Villain, wait. Maybe you should take a break, you’ve been working hard lately, and staying out late. Maybe you should rest, just for tonight.” Hero tried. 

Villain’s eyes were still lit up with excitement. He had been rushing around the new house he had just bought days earlier. “No, I know you don’t like mentor, or any of this, but I need to go. Some very important people are going to be there.”

He wasn’t completely wrong. She didn’t like his new friends, she didn’t like how she felt like she had to beg for attention. It was desperate. 

Hero settled on the couch that probably cost more than everything she owned put together. Her eyes fixed on the floor beneath her feet.

“I’m happy that you are succeeding, Villain. Truly, I am. I just-”

“Just what? Just want me to stick to the pathetic, broken-down villages we used to run through?”

“No, that’s not it.”

“Then what?” He was getting defensive.

Hero finally looked up and met his eyes. He was nothing like that young, mud covered kid she had known. He was clean now, stronger and more determined. His eyes could cut through glass, it felt like they might cut through her.

“I just miss you.” Hero’s voice was soft now. Admitting that was placing a dagger directly into Villain’s hand and they both knew it.

Villain just looked at Hero.

The room was very quiet for a moment. When Hero would look back at this conversation, it was this exact second that felt like the marking point of things to come.

A knock sounded at the door and it shook both of them out of whatever trance they held. 

“I have to go. I’ll see you when I get back?” Villain said, although the last part wasn’t really a question.

“Yeah.”

~One Year Ago~

Despite an uneasiness that had grown between them, Villain and Hero managed to stay within each-other’s orbit. 

Villain had grown into the prophecy he was meant to fulfill. Vanquishing monsters and enemies from all over the kingdom. 

Hero had been there too. Cleaning up the wreckage, bandaging any who got caught in the crossfire. Always a few careful steps behind Villain. 

Hero had gotten done helping a young woman with her wounds and began to search for Villain and the rest of the party to rejoin them. 

What caught her attention was the sound of laughter. This was rather unusual considering the devastation that had occurred moments before. 

“Well? What have you to offer your savior?” 

Villain was standing over a young man who was trembling on the ground clasping something around his neck. 

“Please, my lord, I don’t mean any disrespect.” The young man was scrambling to get up, but one of Villain’s soldiers kicked him back down.

“It’s disrespectful to treat your future king with anything less than a bow when first spoken to.” Villain said, almost lazily.

“I swear, I didn’t know-”

“Didn’t know? What a pathetic excuse.” 

Villain began advancing on the man, signaling the guards to drag him to his feet. 

Villain’s eyes narrowed, “You know what, since you didn’t know I will just have to teach you.” 

Villain raised his hand to strike, powerful light thrumming around his fist. 

Hero’s heart was racing and before he could throw the punch she ran and placed herself between Villain and the man. “Stop!”

Villain paused. “Hero, what do you think you’re doing?”

Hero swallowed, “I think the better question, is what do you think you’re doing?”

The crowd of soldiers had gone silent. Waiting. 

“Get out of my way, Hero.”

“Or what, Villain?” Hero began to gain more confidence, “You’ll hit me too?”

Villain paused. Then he smiled. This time, Hero wasn’t so sure she was happy that she was the cause of it. 

~Present Day~

Hero thought back to that day, when she had stopped Villain from hitting that man. She remembered the small punishments that he had caused her afterwards. They had grown apart after that. A new tension had arose from what used to be an easy friendship.

Now, as she was hurtling herself through the darkness, she wondered if he thought of that same day.

The gardens were now pitch-black. The stars had gone out and the moon had turned her silver face days ago.

“You want to talk about weakness, Hero?” Villain’s voice echoed behind her. 

Damn this dress.

Hero’s only slight advantage had been her deep knowledge of the castle gardens. She had escaped here many times to avoid Villain’s cold wrath.

Villain’s voice sounded calm, but anger was living beneath the surface. “Then I’ll tell you a story, it’s about an ungrateful, greedy, peasant, who lived in her friend’s shadow.”

A knife, she needed a knife. She had left one here, just in case. 

“One day she made a mistake. She decided to take something that didn’t belong to her.” 

Hero fumbled in the dark, she managed to grab onto something cold. Success.

“You know, the story ends with her death. Of course, if you come out now and apologize, maybe it will have a different ending.”

Hero could hear her pulse, thrumming in her ears. Villain was close. She would need him closer. 

She stood up. “Do you promise?”

[jaynerose]

A Magician Against The Law

(A silly story idea, featuring an eccentric magician wannabe villain with a flair for the dramatic and both a hero and superhero who have to deal with him.)

“You have got to be kidding me.”

In front of Superhero dangled a fake rubber spider that had dropped laughably slowly. “I can’t believe they sent us to deal with this guy again, this has to be below my paygrade.”

“I think it’s fun. Definitely a good break from murderers.” Hero replied as she sidestepped a plastic skeleton that had been sprawled on the floor.

This was the third time this week that Magician had caused a disturbance. He had never done anything bad enough that warranted jail time, but it was getting a little ridiculous. 

Currently, they were standing in Magician’s house, or rather haunted house. Cobwebs clung to the ceilings, a grand stairway ran up to the overlooking balcony, and smoke was billowing out around corners. He had a devotion to the spooky aesthetic, that was for certain.

Superhero continued grumbling, “I don’t know why the agency even sent me with you. It’s not like he’s even a real villain.”

“Hey!” The sound of footsteps hit the balcony and with a pathetic crackle of what Hero assumed to be some firework variation, Magician appeared. “I am a very real, very dangerous villain!”

“We got called here because of a noise complaint. I wouldn’t exactly deem that dangerous.” 

Hero couldn’t help but hide a smile behind her hand. Magician had taken to dressing in all black, dark makeup was smudged around his eyes, and his hair looked wild. This in combination made him appear as though he was a vampire who had recently faceplanted into a window during bat form. 

 Magician scowled, “So, I suppose those magical spider minions I sent out did nothing?”

“What spider minions?”

“Nothing! Er- I mean, that is of no concern to you, foolish mortal.” Magician turned with a flare of his cape, “Oh, Hero, you’re here as well. This is a delight, are you prepared to be vanquished to the fiery depths of the Underworld?”

Hero smiled returning the theatrical voice,  “I think not, oh Dark One, it is you who shall face the judgement of defeat!”

Magician’s face lit up at the same time Superhero’s fell in disappointment. 

“Do not encourage this!” Superhero started to move up the stairs.

“Oh, I think that this time you shall find that I am uncatchable, a mere whisper on the wind, a shadow alighting but briefly on this cursed earth!” Magician jumped onto the railing just as Superhero was about to get there, and leapt into the air.

Hero watched for a brief moment in amazement as Magician seemed to be flying, then amazement turned to realization that there were strings attached to him through a harness, and finally horror when she realized those strings were not going to hold.

Superhero cursed and began running down the steps, Magician’s face of triumph began to turn to fear as an audible snap resounded through the spooky residence.

Hero threw out her hands and a wave of blue shielding magic managed to catch Magician just as he was about to go face first out the window. He hit the shield and slid awkwardly onto the couch below in a cloud of dust. 

The room went still for a moment before Hero ran over, “Are you ok? My shields aren’t the softest landing pad.”

Magician slowly lifted his head, his cape flipped over and covered half of it. “I really thought I got the rigging right this time...”

Superhero began slow clapping before walking over. “Wow, congrats Magician, this might have been one of the only times a villain has ever defeated themselves.”

Instead of bouncing back with a theatrical reply Magician slumped and fixed his eyes on the ground.

Hero shot Superhero a glare. 

“What? It’s true. Look, I’m going to go now and find an actual villain. I suggest you get yourself a different partner if you want to be dealing with oddballs in costumes.” 

Superhero turned and left. 

Hero wasn’t quite sure what to do. Magician was now sitting on the couch with an unreadable expression.

Hero moved over to sit next to him and noticed something in his hands. “What is that?”

Magician, not turning to look replied, “Fog machine controller, didn’t even get to make it to that part.”

“Well, maybe next time?” Hero tried.

“You don’t have to be nice to me, you know. I don’t want to be pitied.” 

“I’m not being nice because I pity you, I’m nice because I really have enjoyed seeing the stuff you come up with.”

“Seriously?” Magician turned to look at her, “But I always mess things up, I haven’t gotten away with a single crime.”

“Well, I wouldn’t exactly call getting away with crime a good thing.”

“Right, I suppose you wouldn’t.”

“Besides that, do you know how many truly awful people I have to fight? Killers, and kidnappers, and it’s just so-” Hero sighed, she was getting off topic. “My point is, that yes maybe you need to work on some things, but you have something that most people in this business don’t have.”

“And what’s that?” 

“Style.” 

Magician let out a laugh, “I’m not sure what good it’ll do me in the villain business.”

“Hm, yeah I don’t think I can help you with that.” Seeing as Magician looked bolstered, Hero stretched and prepared to leave. “Well I should go, please be more careful and I’ll see you around.” 

“Wait!” Magician had bolted upright.

Startled Hero turned back, “What?”

“Maybe you can help me. Maybe I shouldn’t be a villain.”

Hero paused, maybe he was finally going to become a law-abiding citizen. 

Magician took a moment before striking a dramatic pose, “I should be your Sidekick!”

Uh oh. 

[jaynerose]

The Stars

(This is inspired by this prompt by @amethysts-prompts . Hero and villain, with a fantasy setting twist.)

“You like to think the stars shine for you,” Villain said. “But they don’t.”

“I never said tha-”

“I’m not finished.” Villain held up hand and looked down at Hero, voice filled with mock attempt at scolding. “As I was saying, the stars don’t shine for you, Hero.”

Hero felt like her heart was trying to crawl up her throat as villain continued his speech. 

“They shine for me.” His eyes began to glow in white light. Fury. “You should have known your place. Beneath them in the dirt.”

“Please, Villain, I’m sorry that things happened this way but I had to do something.”

“Yes, I suppose you did.” Villain suddenly turned from her, his body was outlined in the moonlight that was casting eerie shadows across the palace gardens. “It must have been so difficult for you. Seeing all of the power that was at my fingertips. None of it yours. It’s really too bad that you thought that taking it from me was ever an option.”

“I wasn’t trying to take it from you,” Hero carefully thought of her next words, grasping at anything to reign in his anger. “I just didn’t want anyone else to get hurt.”

“How noble of you, the people are lucky to have such an honorable protector on their side, someone willing to stick a knife in the evil monster’s back.”

“You aren’t- no one ever said you were a monster.” Hero tried to stand up, her dress was heavy and felt like it was pulling her to the ground.

“They never had to, Hero.” He turned his head to look at her. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way, fear can be a very useful tool in the right hands. In my hands.” 

Hero had seen how he had molded that fear firsthand. Villain had become a king. He had crawled out of the dusty town that they both had been born into. He tore himself out. Them out. 

“Now,” Villain continued “I have no choice but to enact some of that fear. Who was that girl who helped you again? Emilie?”

Hero’s blood ran cold. Emilie was her first friend at the palace. Her only friend, outside of Villain. 

“Yes, that’s right. I think it’s time I paid her a visit.” White light began to shine around Villain’s hand, as if to emphasize his statement.

Hero fell quiet, anger slowly replacing fear. “Why are you doing this Villain. You didn’t always think this way. You used to be kind.”

“What, are you going to appeal to our shared history now? And here I thought that sweet little naïve act had all been a lie. A tool to leverage my power.” Villain’s smile was sharp but held no warmth, “Go ahead then, flatter me.”

“Actually,” Hero finally caught her breath, squaring her shoulders. “I was going to say that the person who you used to be, never would have been so weak.”

A look of rage crossed Villain’s face.

And then, the stars began to blink out. One by one.

[jaynerose]

Dream Magic and Mind Control (P.2)

(First part of the story is here, part one witch hero and telepath supervillain, also thanks to @writing-is-a-sin for wanting a continuation and for the words of encouragement, it is appreciated. ) 

Hero was the only witch, to her knowledge, that had dream magic this powerful. Her mind existed in two worlds. 

One, where fantastic castles, slayable monsters, and wonderous landscapes were at her fingertips to explore. And another where she was often weak, often tired, and often fighting monsters who maybe weren’t as monstrous as she’d feel comfortable with.

This second world, although more painful, was solid. The people that lived her were true and real. Made of blood, bone, and a spark of life that didn’t originate from her. 

Living like this was difficult. That is why, to her knowledge, all the other women she had researched with this power died on or before their eighteenth birthday. Either the people around them were afraid of the gift, striking it down before it got too strong, or they were consumed by their own nightmares.

For these reasons, and these reasons more than Supervillain’s dubious ethical code, Hero was hesitant. 

“Hero?” His voice took her out of her thoughts. That happened sometimes, zoning out was a hazard of hers.

“This magic that I have, it’s- well it’s dangerous. I’m not sure if I even can teach you, and if I did it might kill you.” She tested the words out. Unsure. “It almost killed me, and I’m suited for it, it chose me in a way. I don’t know what it might do to you.”

Supervillain straightened, his eyes shone with a determination and stubbornness she had seen before. Usually before he won. “I’ll risk it.”

A moment passed between them. The only movement came from the steam that was whirling out of Hero’s forgotten coffee cup.

Hero’s shoulders slumped. “Ok.”

“Ok? Great! Let’s get started as soon as possible, how abou-” 

“Wait, we need to get some things clear first. We need to have rules.” This would need to be done as safely as possible. Somehow. 

Supervillain paused, “I don’t know how much attention you’ve paid to me, but I don’t really do rules anymore.” 

“Well, I can’t have you using any of this against someone and I can’t let you use it to hurt yourself on accident so this is how it has to be.” 

Hero got up and moved over to one of her shelves that featured a variety of oddities. Mostly mason jars with various spell ingredients. She pulled out a long scroll of paper and returned to her seat before furiously scribbling with a Powerpuff Girl pen. 

She almost jumped out of her seat when she noticed Supervillain had moved directly behind her. Watching her writing carefully. “What’s this?”

“It’s Fae paper, it has magic imbued within it. I’m writing us a contract. That way we will be bound to an agreement that cannot be broken.”

“What if I don’t want to sign?”

“Then I cannot teach you.” Hero continued after seeing a dark look begin to cross Supervillain’s face. “Listen, it won’t include anything bad, it’s just a basic agreement that you won’t end up like murdering puppies, or something else evil with my magic. I feel like that is a pretty low bar for you to step over.”

Supervillain smiled slightly, “Is that what you think I do with my time?”

“Well, no that’s an exaggeration, but still.”

“Fine. What are the rules.”

“Well, number one, you may not use whatever I teach you to harm another living being. You may only use it to protect yourself.”

Supervillain hesitated only slightly before sighing, “Yes, agreed.”

“Ok, next, you may not use whatever I teach you to gain access or control of my mind and thoughts.”

“You think I could do that with this magic?”

“I don’t know, dream magic is weird and very bendable. Most of the magic I do is less rigid than people think, usually I’m winging it and hoping for the best.”

Supervillain snorted. “Fine, yes agreed to that too.”

“Last rule, and this is somewhat complicated. I’ve never taught anyone this stuff before, and most of it is things I had to figure out on my own.” Hero paused, trying to verbalize her thoughts, “If- if I manage to teach you, you may see things that you won’t like.”

“What kinds of things?”

“Nightmares. Once you become aware of them, they will become aware of you. I can help, but it means I might see some things you’d rather I didn’t.”

“So, what’s the rule?” Supervillain kept his face void of emotion.

“It’s actually for the both of us. The third rule, is that we can not use what we see, dreams or nightmares, against one another. We may not speak of them to any outside person.”

“Why would you want to make a rule like that? Wouldn’t that kind of information help you fight me in the long run?” 

Hero thought a moment. “I wouldn’t feel comfortable using that against someone, anyone. I’ve had my fair share of nightmares, and although they can’t frighten me anymore, I remember what that fear did to me.”

Hero and Supervillain looked at each other. Considering.

Supervillain’s eyes had a shade of understanding when he spoke again. “Alright, agreed. When do we begin?”

[jaynerose]

(What I would give for an adorable nine tailed baby fox.)

Luck. That was what I called her. 

In hindsight, perhaps I should have called her Mischief or Trouble. Then again, with or without hindsight, it wouldn’t have mattered. Luck was both trouble and mischief but she was also joy and laughter. 

I never intended on caring for such a creature, and I’m sure she had no intentions for caring about me. But sometimes unlikely friendships are forged over a can of tuna and there isn’t much one can do about it. 

This was something I thought about as I scrubbed the paint out of my carpet. Luck had been going through a bit of a growth spurt and and clumsiness clung to her paws and, multiple, tails. 

A yap sounded. Looking over my shoulder I saw a small ball of scarlet fluff with an apologetic, foxy, grin.

“It’s ok Luck.” I sighed, “I’m sorry for yelling, it’s not your fault. I think.”

Luck pranced over, leaving neon green paint pawprints behind her. At this point I didn’t bother stopping her. She’d come for pets whether I wanted it or not. 

“Just please be more careful. I don’t mind a mess, sometimes. But if you got hurt it would be incredibly difficult to explain to the vet.” I ran my hand over her feather-soft fur. 

She tilted her head and her golden eyes studied me. I think Luck can understand me, she was a strange thing. 

So was I though, so I guess I couldn’t judge.  

When you heard cries that cold winter night you figured it was a hungry stray cat at your window so you put out a can of tuna for the poor thing. Now you can’t get rid of the nine tailed baby fox that’s gotten attached to you and follows you everywhere you go.

[jaynerose]

Butterfly Necklaces

(A bit of supernatural/fae stuff going on, based on a weird dream and an abundance of butterfly necklaces. I’m not making that part up.) 

One Christmas, about five years back, I was gifted a butterfly necklace. The chain was thin and shone silver, a small butterfly pendant sparkled with small purple rhinestones. My grandmother got it because she thought my birthday was in February and amethyst is the birthstone for that month. I was born in January.

We weren’t close and she didn’t know many things about my life. The necklace was small, sweet, both things I had wanted to be but wasn’t. Still, she tried, and that was what mattered to me. This was the first butterfly necklace. 

The second butterfly necklace, was gifted to me by my mother. Bejewled, golden, with hot pink and glassy coating. It was ridiculously over the top in sparkles, and also ridiculously more me. This is my favorite of my collection.

A close friend gave me my third necklace in my collection. It was at this point I realized the strange trend in gifts. It was also beautiful, silver, but made by her own hands. 

Now, I never claimed butterflies to be my favorite, nor did I have a particularly large interest in jewelry. So, once I had at lease eight different butterfly necklaces, all gifted to me by people who had next to no contact with each other, I thought it a curiosity.

There wasn’t much I could do with this curiosity though. Not until I found out why. Not until I met him. 

My college held an art fair, a large portion of the students were artists (myself included). This was when I first met the man with silver eyes. 

The smell of fresh cut grass was a comfort added to the warmth of the summer sun. Crowds of people moved through the neat rows of art displays and small shops. As I passed a folding table filled with photographs, I came to a new exhibit. 

White wired displays held up the most beautiful pieces of jewelry. Shining in various metals, twisted and wonderful and fantastic. All were themed in nature, and many were themed in butterflies.  

The man who was behind the cash box flashed a grin at the customer he was talking to. As he was busy, I moved into the display area. My hand drifted to my mother’s butterfly necklace that I was wearing, and looking to see if there was a ring or bracelet that might match. If I was going to find one, it’d be here. Strangely, no prices were listed anywhere near the items. 

“Hello, see anything you like?”

“Oh, everything is beautiful.” I turned and saw the man who was previously helping the customer.

He offered a smile, “I appreciate you saying that, I created most of it myself.” 

His eyes drifted to my necklace. It was the kind of thing that was difficult to miss. “I could almost have mistaken that for one of my own, where’d you get it?”

“It was a gift. I’ve actually gotten a lot of butterfly necklaces over the years, it’s just a strange trend in the thought process of my family I guess.” I kept rambling, it was difficult not to, “Not that they are strange, well maybe a little, we’re mostly artists so that merits a bit of oddity, I think. I don’t usually speak this much at once.”

He laughed a bit, and when he did I noticed his eyes were a peculiar silver. “Don’t worry, I tend to have that effect on people. May I have your name?”

“My friends call me Jay.”

An emotion flashed across his face before I could identify it. “I see.” 

“Did, um, did you have prices listed anywhere? I didn’t see any.” 

He moved to the rings I had been looking at. “These are most likely what you’ll want.” He picked one up and surely enough the one he had chosen matched my necklace rather closely. “You’re an artist, correct? Then this will cost you a favor.”

“A favor?”

“Art for art. Equal value ideally.” 

I laughed, “The only thing I have on me right now is my sketchbook.” I was joking, clearly. This must be some kind of bit. 

“Let me see.” He held out his hand. 

I paused for a moment, maybe I should just leave? Apologize? He looked serious, though. What was the harm, I had a dozen sketchbooks at home, hoarded like dragon’s treasure. 

“Ok,” I dug through my backpack and grabbed a small sketchbook. “I just started using pastel pencils though, so don’t judge too harshly.” 

Wordlessly, he took it. And as his hand curled around it I noticed his nails were came to sharp, clean points. 

He flipped through the pages, his lack of expression making me nervous. I knew some of the pages were filled with nonsense. A doodle of a raccoon wielding a flamethrower, a crocodile crawling out of a cauldron. That was what sketchbooks were for though, practice and nonsense. 

He came to a page that broke his expressionless face with a laugh though. His silver eyes looked back up at me. “This is acceptable. A ring for your sketchbook. Do you accept the deal?”

At this point I kind of had to. “Yes. That sounds good.” 

“Excellent.” He turned quickly, dropping the ring into a white box and then into a bag before handing it to me. 

As I turned to leave he said something that stuck with me. 

“Perhaps those necklaces made their way to you for a reason.”

When I turned back to reply, his stall had vanished and so had he. In that place was a caricature artist, confused by my sudden staring. 

[jaynerose]

Dream Magic and Mind Control

(Writing for a possible short story. Witch Hero and Telepath Supervillain. Part two is now finished.)

“I want you to teach me.”

“That’s a very bold thing for you to ask me.” Hero still had the fog of a late night wrapped around her mind.  

“Really? How so?” Supervillain stood in the doorway to the kitchen, glancing around rather casually, considering the damage she knew he has dealt in the past.

“Well for one,” Hero moved to sit on a kitchen stool, trying to match his nonchalance, “You’ve tried to kill my friends-”

“If I was trying to kill them, they’d be dead.” 

Hero narrowed her eyes before continuing, “And for two, why would I want to give you more power? It’s not like our goals coincide often enough for that to be useful.” 

“On the contrary. I think you should teach me because of our shared goals,“ Supervillain moved closer, intent. “You’ve seen inside people’s minds, so have I. You know firsthand the evil they are capable of.” 

That wasn’t completely wrong. Hero still had nightmares from her neighbors that bounced around in her mind. Some things were better left forgotten, that’s why so many people couldn’t remember their dreams when they wake up. 

Hero wasn’t that kind of lucky. 

“I suppose. But I know the good, too.” Hero looked down at her coffee. “Look, we aren’t the same walking in dreams is... it’s just different. I can’t control anyone.” 

“Then what’s the harm in teaching me?” 

Hero’s eyes drifted back up and this time she really looked at him. 

Supervillain was as impeccably dressed as ever. He wasn’t wearing armor, he didn’t need to. But his eyes, dark shadows clung beneath them.

“Well, what do you think?” He prompted.

Hero stalled, “Aren’t you supposed to know that?” It was mostly a joke.

“Very funny. You’re mind is slippery, like it’s in two places at once.” 

“I have ADHD.”

“Strangely, I don’t think that’s the reason.” Frustration was beginning to creep into his voice, that was also unusual. “You have no reason to distrust me. I’ve never hurt you.” 

Hero paused. Supervillain had used to work for the same agency she was apart of. He fought the same corruptness that she did. From what she knew, he had departed after being labeled as “unstable”. 

He had never hurt her. He never actually killed her friends either, despite their complaints. Although, that was a pretty low standard to set. Still. Something about his tiredness... It looked like hers. 

“Why?”

“What?”

“Why do you want me to teach you?” Hero asked, keeping her voice light of any promises. 

A moment passed. “Because, their voices, they keep crawling into my dreams. I can’t-” Supervillain turned away. “Look, I just need a bit more control. You’re the only one who could possibly know how to give me that. Will you teach me?” 

[jaynerose]

Pancake mix. That was all I wanted, pancake mix.

I’ve lived for hundreds of years, and pancakes were, since my first introduction to them, one of the happiest lights of my days. 

I was still half-asleep, eyeliner clung to my eyes in a smudgy mess from the night before and I used the back of my hand to rub some of it away. The fluorescent lights flickered slightly at the back of the store, I paid them no mind. This store has needed them replaced for at least a couple weeks. 

“Madalinde?” 

I hadn’t heard that name in a long time. I barely recognized the voice, until I turned to see the face attached to it. 

There, standing in the baking aisle, was my ex. An ex, who should have been long dead. Yet, there he stood, very not dead. Unforeseen and alive. 

The pancake mix in my hand dropped to the floor.

It took me a moment to choke out, “It’s just Maddie now.” 

He bent to pick it up and when his face turned upwards to me, offering the mix back, I could see not just the surprise but the calculating mind at work. “I never thought I’d see you again.”

“Likewise.” 

“You look tired.” 

“You look more alive then you should be.” I returned, mainly because damn him and also damn the fates that were responsible for running into him while I was in my sweatpants. 

“Immortality can do that for you.” He straightened, crossing his arms he continued, “I never realized... Were you immortal when we started dating?”

“Maybe.” 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” 

“Well, we didn’t exactly end on the best terms. Did we?” 

He paused. I paused. 

Then, laughter. Laughter, of all things. From him!

“This is not funny.” The last time we had seen each other, I had thrown a chair at his head. And now, he was laughing. “You were meant to disappear from my existence and never turn up again!” 

His laughs fade, “Oh, I think it’s hilarious.” 

“That was always your problem. You never took anything seriously.” 

“I took us seriously, you needed to lighten up.”

“Lighten up? You almost got us locked up for stealing that dumb painting. It didn’t even go with anything in our home-”

He scoffed and crossed his arms, “Good gods, you aren’t still on that are you? It’s literally been three hundred some years, let it go.” His dark brown eyes looked down at me in contemplation, “In any case, your moral high-horse clearly hasn’t taken you anywhere that important in all of this time.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I bristled. 

He waved his hand in a vague gesture at me. “Look at yourself, it’s been hundreds of years and you walk into a grocery store that is one step away from becoming a gas-station, sleep deprived, and from the looks of it,” he glanced in my basket that I had kept at my hip, “About to go on a major sugar binge.” 

I gasped, “I hate to break this to you, but you are in the same exact store as I am.” I angrily snatched another thing of mix off the shelf and stuck it in my basket, “and yes, I am a bit tired but I have done very well for myself. And I deserve a bit of sugar.” 

I turned on my heel and marched away. Not bothering to look back. 

If I had I might have seen a familiar smile. 

“We had a really bad break-up three hundred years ago, but neither of us realized the other was immortal until we met today while shopping for groceries” AU

-(@yellowmagicalgirl)

[jaynerose]

Dialogue Bits

“Define foolishness.”

“If I had a mirror, I could lift it your face and show you.”  

[jaynerose]

“You do realize that I’m not joking, right?” A knife hung loosely in Person A’s hand. 

“What makes you think that I care?”, Person B let out a sigh and looked out the window. “I’ve been on the run for so long. Longer than you’ve been chasing me. Do you genuinely believe that you are the first person they’ve sent? Are you that gullible?” 

Person A paused. They had thought they were the first. They had never been given a reason to distrust the Company. But now, standing in a motel room with the target casually sipping their coffee, Person A felt a little bit unnerved. Usually, this was when their enemy began to beg for mercy. 

Attempting to regain control of the situation, Person A started, “Listen, here’s what’s going to happen. You are going to come back, you will comply with the Company’s orders, and you will do so without complaint.” 

“Oh, am I?” Person B took another sip of their coffee and looked up at Person A with laughter in their eyes. “Or what? You’ll try and stab me with that little knife of yours? Look, I’m sure that you have been trained to be a good, obedient little guard dog, but I am not interested in coming back. Quietly or otherwise.” 

“So, that’s it? You prefer death? What did the Company ever do to you?”

Person B’s eyes lost their laughter. “They took something of mine.”

Person A began to back up. Not because of the new anger in Person B’s voice, but because of the shadows that began to creep up and around their hands that still held the coffee mug. 

Liquid darkness began to fill the room. “Wh-what is this? What are you doing?” Person A’s voice lost it’s confidence for the first time in a while. 

“I,” Person B stated, standing up, “am finishing my coffee.” 

And with that, Person B vanished into the darkness. 

It took Person A forever to track them down again after that. 

Person A: “I’m going to kill you!”

Person B: “Understandable. Could you at least wait until I finish my coffee though?”

Person A: “…What?”

Person B: “It’s a really good coffee.”

[jaynerose]

Pondering

American culture passionately teaches the rescue of animals. Most common is the abused or older animals. People educate themselves and devote time, great energy, and small fortunes to give these animals fantastic lives of healing and tenderness. The results and beauty that come about are humbling and inspirational. More and more people are dedicating their lives to this worthy cause.

America also ignores or even criticizes the needy, abused and damaged, and older humans. Of course it is more complicated to patiently care for a human with physical, emotional, and mental needs and issues, but if an animal can be saved, why are we throwing away humans because it is tougher and more complicated?

Animal rescue continues to teach me some extraordinary details about new ways we could salvage humans from misery and suffering. Unfortunately, I no longer have the energy and well being to begin this journey without the help of others and resources far beyond mine.

I'll tell you a secret here though;

There is a passion and hope growing inside of me that life will bring others and those resources to help begin this. The entire world could be dramatically changed by even a slow shift towards valuing life in those we think aren't currently contributing even to their own healing. They are just sitting each moment often fighting to rekindle the desire to live, unable to remember days that were absent of this battle, or they never have yet known that kind of life.

Look within...

Look within....

This is how to change the world around us.

Peace

Lost Dog (4.30.2021)

[jaynerose]

Raven Feathers and Coffee

I have words inked in the back of my mind.

Like raven feathers

or 

spilled coffee.

They whisper madness and threaten wonder.

[jaynerose]

Watercolor Lights

Watercolor lights brush out against the tide and dreams are formed from woven starlight.

If I could reach out and grasp the blanket of night I’d pull it down to earth, 

If only for a while to bask in the lunar warmth. 

There are so few places of such ethereal inspiration to turn to. 

I try to capture its presence in my soul to share it with my mind. 

The weight of the heavens is as gentle as lily petals. 

I’d make a bouquet and wrap it in celestial ribbon, gifting it to the water.

For who could have loved the skies more? 

Certainly the one who mirrors it’s promises. 

The oceans have always been true to the ether, 

pulling in nebulas and pushing them away in seafoam green splendor.