#✦ musing. ╱ even in our kindling moments‚ we are a forest fire.

[cataschism]

@pavlovianpanic

"To forget, to forget ...", Vahan Teryan (translated by Tathev Simonyan)

[sammyspreadyourwings]

You going camping got me think about Queen sitting by the camp fire and tell each other (ghost) stories wwwwww

I tried for some humor hopefully I managed.

🌲🌲🌲

Roger swatsat a bug that flies in his face before adjusting the bag on his back. Brian andJohn in a rare show of comradery are trekking ahead of them with ease chattingabout nature. He huffs and crosses his arms. Freddie gently bumps into him.

“Relax, Liz, it’sa couple of nights in the woods,” Freddie grins, “just what we need to spark ourinspiration!”

“Gnat bitesand dirt?” Roger huffs.

Freddieshrugs, “It’s cheaper than drugs.”

He wipessweat from his brow it isn’t like he dislikes the outdoors, but he likes it tobe controlled, like zoos. Freddie nudges him again and then gestures to Brianand John and makes kissy faces. Roger snickers and sways forward withfluttering eyes. Brian glances back and purses his lips.

“Alright WildernessMan, where are we setting up?” Roger stumbles over a twig.

He feels thescratch in his shin, and if he wouldn’t have gotten lost on the way back hewould have left then. Roger squints at them and hoping that they see it in thelow light.

“There’s alake my family likes to stay near,” Brian replies, “level ground. Soft. A nicebreeze during the day.”

“Mosquitoes.Gnats. River monsters.”

He can barelysee Brian’s eye roll.

“We aren’t nearthe loch ness monster, Roger,” John replies.

“That we knowof!” Freddie adds, “I was reading an article about how all of Earth’s water isconnected and that the tunnels are portals to the other parts of the world. Somaybe she is near this water.”

Roger stares athim, “reading tabloids again?”

Brian hums, “actually,that has some interesting implications if applied to space travel, you’d beable to cross light-years in second.”

John tugs onBrian’s sleeve, keeping him from walking into a tree as he muses about hisstars. Roger snickers, and tries to not feel too disappointed at not seeing Brianhit the tree. He loves Brian, but this is his fault because he convinced Johnand Freddie.

“Careful, Bri,”John says.

Brian letsout another tiny hum, “it could be that black holes would be those tunnelpoints. It’d explain the gravity…”

“It’s a dumbconspiracy theory,” Roger sighs, “like how people say the Earth is flat.”

“That’s becauseit is,” John says without missing a beat.

Brian stops, “John!We’ve talked about this before!”

Roger looksat Freddie and covers his ears. He doesn’t need to hear that lecture again butJohn doesn’t seem to mind it especially because John has maintained his “image”as a flat-earther since the moment he found out it got underneath Brian’s skin.Freddie simply makes a circle and sticks his finger in it with an eyebrowwaggle.

Roger snorts.

🌲🌲🌲

He jumps ashe sits on a log. It’s wet and soaks his bum and he grimaces. Brian is currentlysnuggled up against John in about every sweater they brought with them. Johnkeeps poking at the fire that Freddie had helped to set up – the tiny hay animalsthat Freddie made before coming are slowly burning in the embers, but they hadbeen fantastic kindling.

Roger seesthat the cat has survived.

John has brokenthe story chain that he began to take a deep breath and a long pull from thebottle of rum. He nudges it against Brian’s face who takes it with bleary tiredeyes. So far Brian had told about the time he got stuck as the leading lady inhis school play (which Freddie had poked holes in because you have toaudition, Brimi!), Freddie had surprisingly told a story from before he movedto London, Roger himself had told some random ghost story he heard from one ofthe other choir boys he sang with, so it’s back to John.

Brian jokesat the rum but continues to drink with surprising enthusiasm.

“Warm enough?”Roger quips.

Brian glaresat him, but his eyes are blurry from the smoke and booze.

“Okay, I’vegot a story,” John says once he hands the drink to Roger.

Roger finishesoff the bottle much to the annoyance of Freddie. The singer huffs and pulls outa flask and sips at that.

“Once, therewas a group of four English boys,” John begins.

Roger raiseshis eyes skyward ah yes, four English boys in the woods and a story aboutfour English boys? He snorts, but Brian seems to be looking at John withwide eyes and even Freddie has stopped drinking for the moment.

“They decidedto go for a camping trip, and they have never been seen again,” John clears histhroat, “but no one knows what happened to them. A lot of people say they justran off to start a new life. Some say they were murdered. Others say they wereforced to join a sex cult –“

“Y’know, nota disappointing way to live,” Roger chirps.

John tosses amarshmallow at his head.

“But thetruth is much worse!”

“A celibacy cult?”

Another marshmallowgets tossed at his head.

“They werecursed.”

Roger sighsbut Freddie gaps and Brian is still staring wide-eyed at him.

“Why werethey cursed,” Roger intones dryly.

“Because theydidn’t respect the rules of the campfire story hour,” John replies.

“Oh dear,”Roger leans forward, resting his palm on his knee.

“The rules ofthe campfire story hour are as follows, one: every member must tell a story,once this is done, the magic is invoked. Two: respect the storyteller, don’t interrupt,don’t spoil the story, don’t fall asleep,” John jumps his leg to wake Brian up,“Three: once daylight has risen the magic is broken.”

He leans back,“sounds simple enough and not at all scary.”

Freddie kickshim. Roger whines and rubs his shin, Freddie had hit him where the branch hadcut him earlier. John grins before launching into the story. Apparently, theblond one is being obnoxious and calling everyone’s stories lame and boring andeven giving away the big reveal for one of the tales. Roger crosses his armsand huffs, fine if John wants him to take the piss he will.

Then onceeveryone starts turning in strange noises start to come from the forest.Screams and groans and weird cracking noise. They start faint at first. Theonly one hearing them is the blond one who thinks that it was the brunette –who was missing – trying to scare him to teach him a lesson for ruining hisstory. Only the sounds kept getting louder.

Freddie gripshis arm as the forest creaks in the wind. Roger wraps an arm around Freddie becausehe seems like he is upset about the sounds, and tilts his head towards John, whois having some trouble finishing his story because Brian is buried in his belly.

The storycontinues that the blond wanders off in search of the source. To which Rogersnorts because he is not going to wander in the forest alone at night. Asthe blond goes into the forest, the noises and sounds completely stop and theforest gets thicker, stopping the blond from finding his way back to hiscampsite.

Then the loudbreathing sets in, which John does quite well, and Roger has to groan as Brianclimbs up into his lap. Freddie’s grip is bruising, and Brian is boney. He narrowshis eyes at John who keeps up the weird breathing.

He stopssuddenly but the wind picks up and a branch snaps and falls into the water.Freddie yells directly into his ear at the same time Brian sobs almostviolently into his chest. Roger does lose his balance and falls onto the coldground with Brian and Freddie still clinging to him.

He watchesthe stars and listens to John laughing so hard he is starting to snort. Brianis still whimpering but Freddie has sat up and is yelling at John about how itisn’t nice to scare people like that! It makes John laugh harder.

“Hey, Bri, it’sfine. Nothing is in the wood that is going to eat us… probably. Maybe your badgersmight. They’re vicious.”

“Oww,” Rogertries to rub at the skin where Brian has pinched him.

“They’re niceand sweet creatures! Better to have tea with them and you!”

Roger closeshis eyes to Brian’s badger lecture, which he has heard almost as much as theflat earth lecture and sighs. It sounds like John and Freddie have started to wrestlewith each other, Freddie demanding an apology.

He might hatecamping, but every moment spent with these three is worth enduring.

[sorneth]

Interview: Sorneth Caduceus

► Name ➔ He grinned. “Ser Sorneth Caduceus, Bard of renown, and teller of stories. ...Also a knight of Ishgard now apparently” he offered with a side ward slant of his eyes “bit of a funny tale that one.” ► Are you single ➔ He chuckled warmly, as a smile formed that not only curved along his lips but brought a fond narrowing of his eyes. “Not in the slightest. I’m the husband of Maxia Caduceus, and happily so. While we do have our problems sometimes, that’s simply the way of it. A relationship is like a garden, you tend it together, and you enjoy both the good times, and weather the bad side by side.” ► Are you happy ➔ He offered a nod. “Most of the time. I have many, many things around me that bring a smile to my face, and a warmth to my heart. While occasionally my mind does get the better of me, I’m fortunate that I can often find pleasant company to help ease me back into my usual, jovial self.” ► Are you angry? ➔ The bard falls silent for a moment, a frown pulling across his lips as the fingers of a gloved hand curl inwards towards his palm briefly. “Overall?” his tone flows gently upon smooth silver “No, I’m content and at peace. It’s merely specific subjects that are likely to light a fire in my blood. But they rarely if ever surface in normal conversation.” ► Are your parents still married ➔ This brought the man’s head to tilt, before giving a brief huff of a chuckle. “I don’t even know my parents, but I imagine they still are. Divorce is not an option where I come from, I’m... pretty sure the marriages are pre-arranged as well. Aids in the selective breeding.”

(Cut for Length)

EIGHT FACTS

► Birth Place ➔ The bard’s eyes closed gently... “A place far more ancient then you can fathom. My people have been around since the star was torn into fourteen pieces. Isolated and kept safe in a homeland so deep beneath the surface of our world, that not even the veins of corrupted aether from the fragments of Dalamund’s fall could reach or affect it. I -am- from the Shroud, just way more vertically down then most forest-born.” ► Hair Color ➔ He grinned, as a hand lifted to pinch one of his bangs within his fingertips. “Naturally this silver, even the white highlights mixed in.” ► Eye Color ➔ His head tilted, offering a better view of his eyes as the moon-white iris’ seemed to glow against the dark grey backdrop. “Moon white, I was told this is the result of those born beneath a Full Moon, on the Winter Solstice. The night influenced me, and thus my eyes reflect my connection to the sunless sea. It’s a rare trait among my people, near to the point of prophecy.” He shrugged “If there is one about me, I don’t know it. I simply am who I am.” ► Birthday ➔ He frowned gently.. “Aside from having been born on the Winter Solstice? Well, that’s if the stories of my eyes are true. Honestly I... actually have no idea. I use the solstice to track my years, when it passes, I consider myself a year older.” ► Mood ➔ He grinned again, this time with one that even narrowed his eyes with mirth. “Playful, flirtatious, good humored, affectionate, creative, modest, honest, loyal, kind, generous. Depends on the day, depends on the time, depends on the company. But generally I’m told that I can be quite a darling, and that I’m pleasant to be around, and easy to get along with.” His smile softened to one of nearly being bashful as he lowered his head and scratched at his cheek. “I just try and give people a reason to smile, there’s enough in the world to feel horrible about. Bard’s are meant to lift people up, after all.” ►Gender ➔ He offered a rich, deep laugh as his arms flowed out from his sides with upturned palms. “Male, obviously. Though... if you want to open up my pants just to make sure, your welcome to...” he offered a wink. “I’m like a museum, can look as much as you want - just don’t touch anything.” ► Summer or winter ➔ “Winter” he stated without a breath of hesitation “I hate the heat, and enjoy the snow, cold, and peacefulness that comes with the season. While game can be a bit more difficult to hunt, I still prefer it over the thick of summer any day.”  ► Morning or afternoon ➔ His smile sweetened. “Morning, very early morning just after midnight. That’s usually when my day usually begins, and I can still drink in the starlit skies as I go about my training routines. It’s quiet, tranquil, few people bother me, and I can lose myself to the routines as if they were meditation.” He sighed out blissfully... “It also lets me finish, come back to the house, and start on breakfast right as my beloved starts rolling themselves out of bed.”

EIGHT THINGS ABOUT YOUR LOVE LIFE

► Are you in love ➔ His smile grew fond, eyes closing to a gentle, reflective half lid as a soft sigh of contentment parted his lips. “I am fully, and without a doubt in my heart.” The words flowed with a steeled resolve, and an embers warmth as his hand lifted to run the pad of his thumb along the wedding band on his finger. “He is my guiding stars, my strength, my resolve, my present and future. My beloved has claimed me utterly, mind, heart, and soul. Even when were apart, my thoughts drift to him effortlessly, my muse behind everything that I do.” ► Do you believe in love at first sight ➔ The bard’s head tilted, only to tilt again in the other direction before his shoulder’s bobbed in a gentle shrug. “Yes and No. I believe that for some, those who have lived before, there is the chance for a re-kindled connection upon first crossing paths with the one who loved you before. A recognition of their soul, just as they recognize yours in kind. But that.. is merely remembrance.” He lifted a hand to tap two fingers over his heart. “Love, is something you fall into all over again - even with such a destined lover. You grow to know them as they are in this life, finding a fondness for them all over from the beginning. A connection is at first sight, love... grows after.” ► Who ended your last relationship ➔ The frown that flowed over the man’s lips was near a sneered grimace. “...The Ishgardians, their ‘inquisitors’ in fact. They arrested my last lover for writing ‘unhalonic’ texts and distributing his fiction to the general public.” He sighed out softly... “They held him for a long time, over a year, and by the time he was released... I had already left Ishgard and had resumed my way of life long before. If they had not, I likely would have stayed, likely continued to grow what we had between us. ...We were close.” ► Have you ever broken someone’s heart ➔ The bard’s head was swift to shake. “No. Never. It’s why I’m always as clear in my communication as I am, honest, genuine, sincere. Unlike most bards, I don’t desire to eat hearts where I go and leave them shattered within my wake. I... have far too much respect for people to do that.”  ► Are you afraid of commitments ➔ The bard grinned, and merely lifted up his hand to show the Ishgardian Steel wedding band shaped like a dragon that circled his ring finger like an Oroboros. “...Does this answer your question?” ► Have you hugged someone within the last week? ➔ He chuckled warmly as a wolfish grin settled over his features. “Of course! My hand’s can’t keep themselves off of my beloved, for one. For two, my friends are used to that being simply how I greet them.” ► Have you ever had a secret admirer ➔ He offered a sharp, loud, huff of a laugh. “I wish, if only for the experience...” he smirked “If I have one, their so secret even I don’t know about them.” ► Have you ever broken your own heart? ➔ The bard winced, before offering a soft frown as his eyes closed with a side ward flick of his gaze. “...Many times. To spare others pain, hardship, complications, or torment I have had to walk away when I’d rather I not have to on many occasions. It’s how I’ve managed to avoid breaking the hearts of others, my own takes the blow on their behalf, many I imagine aren't even aware of it.”

SIX CHOICES

► Love or lust ➔ The bard huffed out his breath with a shake of his head... “Come now, you can’t possibly make me choose between those?” he arched a brow, only to frown when the question was indeed serious. “Stars, for me you can’t have one without the other. I don’t have sex with people, just to have sex with people. I have to be fond of them to some degree, otherwise it’s just using another person for your own pleasure, which is something I can’t stomach.” His shoulder’s shrugged “When I’m in love? My love is both emotional and physical. If I can’t explore my beloveds likes, dislikes, passions, and build a dynamic with them. If I can’t set my blood on fire and show them how I feel in the most intimate manner known to mortal kind. What then, separates our bond from just having a very deep, platonic friendship?” His head shook, and a palm lifted with a shake as well. “Not for me, my beloved better accept that I’ll be an outright horn dog for them, and realize that it’s because of the fact I love them so much.” ► Lemonade or iced tea ➔ He grinned. “Tea, without contest. Specially when sweetened with honey, or fruit juice mixed in with it.’ ► Cats or Dogs ➔ “Dogs” the wight didn’t even hesitate, though after a moment of thought he did quirk a brow. “..Unless you mean cat men and women, in that case I’ll heavily consider changing my opinion.”  ► A few best friends or many regular friends ➔ The bard smirked a smile, fond and sweet. “Few best friends. As a bard acquaintances and regular connections are helpful, and do well to ease the quiet and loneliness at times. But they are infrequent, and prone to falling out of contact on that individuals whim. Such is why I prefer a few close, stable, consistent people in which to invest myself and a bond with.” ► Wild night out or romantic night in ➔ “Romantic Night In” the words came with a sharp, swift fondness as a smile curled into place along his lips. Even his hands lifted, flowing as he continued... “A candlelit bath, incense scenting the air, two glasses of blush wine laced with just a small hint of clove oil to spark the desire. Worshiping your beloveds skin with the fond caress of fingertips, and the reverent kiss of lips. Exploring them, making their breath catch within their throat, and their heart quicken. A romantic sensuality...” ► Day or night ➔ “Night” he said plainly and with a swiftness. “The Sunless sea is the home of the celestials, my deities. To be beneath it is to be as if within a church, and thus I do most if not all of my activities of import beneath a starlit sky. Cloaked in their blessed shadows, and illuminated by moonlight. To have something of importance happen in the suns light is to welcome ruin to it. Or so my people have long believed.”

FOUR HAVE YOU EVERS

► Been caught sneaking out ➔ “Not yet, though I think my beloved’s senses are slowly becoming keener to my methods. For now however, they seem to only notice my absence after a few hours have passed, and I’ve yet to be caught in the act.” The bard then reached up a hand, and promptly knocked on the wooden part of the wall behind him.  ► Fallen down/up the stairs ➔ “Unfortunately...” the sigh that left his lips was a heavy one as his eyes rolled. “Take it as advice, or wisdom. But do not get drunk within the forgotten knight and then attempt to navigate the pillars of Ishgard while intoxicated. It does not end well for you, or the unfortunate parties having to tend to you afterwards.” ► Wanted something/someone so badly it hurt? ➔ “To want for something unobtainable, is simply an excuse to use it as motivation towards a means to obtain it. But when that want is for a person?” he sighed softly... “That is a pain not so easily twisted into optimism. Nor does acceptance come easy, or quickly.” ► Wanted to disappear ➔ The bard offered a chuckle. “I have, and succeeded. That is all I will offer on the matter, as I would very much desire to keep it that way.”

FOUR PREFERENCES

► Smile or eyes ➔ The bard’s hand lifted, before pointing two fingers to his moon-white orbs. “Eyes” he stated firmly “For some, a smile has become impossible to form as they’ve long forgotten how over the duration of their suffering. But if you look into their eyes, you can see even in the depths of their pain, their fighting against the inner demons, the shimmer of warmth that tells of the difference you’ve just made. No matter how brief.” ► Shorter or Taller ➔ He grinned. “Shorter, there is a lot I can do romantically with someone smaller then me. From sweeping them off their feet, to curling up around them in bed. Besides, it’s hard to find people taller then me, and of those that do - generally were more for sparring outside of the bedroom then in one.” ► Intelligence or Attraction ➔ “Intelligence” he offered swiftness and a smile. “A pretty face is pleasant, but a sharp mind is what I thrive on most. The trading of sass, wit, sarcasm, humor, and being able to collaborate with another over my creative ideas are things I cherish.” He then offered a rich, deep laugh. “I often say, the fastest way to get me to fall in love with you, is to roast me so well that I’m left with the only option of laying in the grave you made me dig for myself without even realizing it.” ► Hook-up or Relationship ➔ The bard offers a firm nod. “Relationship. While hook-ups are fun, for a while, they loose their luster easily enough and leave the heart wanting more. Thus, is why I invest my time into my relationships with others, be they romantic or platonic. It’s these meaningful connections, nurturing them, growing them, developing them, that bring me the most fulfillment.”

FAMILY

► Do you and your family get along ➔ The bard offered a thick, sarcastic laugh. “I was separated from my parents as soon as I was old enough to pick up a wooden sword, as is custom. The only brothers I’ve ever known, are my fellow hunters and we... Well, we get along like brothers. If were not drinking together, were fighting one another either to settle an argument, or out of sheer pleasure and enjoyment. So I shall leave that up to your interpretation.” ► Would you say you have a “messed up life” ➔ His head shook gently. “No. While some who hear my story, and are privy to the more guarded details, may surely think so. I never once considered myself of having been subjected to a ‘tragic backstory’. My life is what it is, and had to be what it was, for me to become what I have.” He shrugged. “My life is what it needed to be, to be what it is, and will become.” ► Have you ever ran away from home ➔ His head shook again. “No, never. I’ve been loyal to the end, and left home only when there was no one else there to linger around for.” ► Have you ever gotten kicked out ➔ His shoulder’s bobbed with a deep, rich chuckle. “I was... voluntarily exiled” he stated slowly, and with keen purpose. “When we become hunters, we are condemned to live out the rest of our lives on the surface, fulfilling our duties until the day the Monsters we hunt succeed in killing us.”

FRIENDS

► Do you secretly hate one of your friends ➔ “Stars no!” the answer came swiftly, and with a turn of the bard’s head in worry. “I have so few of them, and new ones don’t just grow on bushes in the middle of the forest. I’m an honest person, if I have a problem with someone, I tell them so. Now... if that results in me being punched in the face for it or not, is another matter.” ► Do you consider all of your friends good friends ➔ The bard’s head shook lightly. “I have two good friends, the rest are... barely more then acquaintances. While I would desire more, that is not up to me but rather others to decide if they wish to get to know me or not. But I can see how a white eyes, silver haired, silver tongued Wight can be intimidating.” ► Who is your best friend ➔ “Honestly?” he sighed softly, and his head sank into his hand with a rubbing of his fingertips against his temples. “...My horse. I tell them everything I do when not with them, and they witness everything I do when within their company.” ► Who knows everything about you ➔ “My horse, for reasons previously stated..” 

Tagged by: @umbralich​

Tagging: All of my followers who have not done this yet, and desire to. It was quite fun, even though it took over four hours to do.

[cataschism]

@venstm

— Franz Kafka // Richard Siken

[fallen029]

The Nuances of Seances.4

Previous Chapter

It was the perfect evening for a late hour stroll through the woods. You know, if you were looking to be killed by an axe wielding murderer who would chop your body up and send it to your parents. Anything else you were looking to do, honestly, it just wasn't a good fit for. The blowing wind had a bite to it as it knocked felled leaves all about. The moon was out, but hidden behind dark clouds, obstructing the very little light it had to offer anyways. It was cold out and downright eerie.

And it frightened the heck out of poor Happy.

"So you wanna go out, all by yourself, into the woods at night, and absolutely can't have us follow you?" Lucy had questioned when he told Natsu and her that they were both on their own for the evening, as he had plans. "Happy?"

"Aye," he agreed, nodding his head, though the volume of his voice wasn't nearly as loud as it usually was. Especially when making such a declaration. "I'm gonna meet Lisanna and Bickslow."

"Are you following Lisanna and Bickslow? Little buddy?" Natsu tapped his nose. "'cause I'd be great help at that!"

"Please," Lucy begged, making a face at both of them. "Anything to get the two of you out of my apartment."

"No!" Happy definitely didn't want Natsu to tag along. While the feline would admit that he himself wasn't always the best at making sure a situation didn't fall off the rails, Natsu was a certain insurance that it would. And he and Natsu together? The whole thing would go to shit. The things they did together always went to shit. "I have to do this alone."

And he did. He sent out with only the pack tied around his neck for company, headed deep into the woods that surrounded Magnolia proper. While he was headed there though, across town, the others too were preparing for the hopefully eventful evening.

"I just can't do it, Mira," Elfman was grumbling slightly as they waked along the quiet street. "Eating dinner at that table was horrible."

"It was wonderful, I felt," his older sister gushed in reply. "Didn't you, dragon? Freed?"

"i for one," Evergreen intervened before either of the men could answer, "hate it."

"Well, it's a good thing I didn't ask for your opinion then." Mira glanced over her shoulder at the other woman. "Isn't it?"

As Ever's jaw hit the floor and she debated literally hitting the she-devil, Laxus and Freed only shared a look.

If it had been a long day, the night just might never come to an end.

Happy was already in position, hidden away in the clearing, when the five of them arrived. Ever was stewing as she knew going up against Mirajane, truly going up against her, would only lead to her own downfall, while Elfman kicked at the ground, unsure which of the domineering women in his life he should be siding with. Mirajane though seemed over it (if she was ever on it, that is), instead gushing to Laxus about just how excited she was.

"For, you know, whatever it is that we're doing," she finished with a grin as he only rolled his eyes. "I wonder who we're contacting. Ooh, I hope it's someone famous!"

"Why," Freed asked slowly, "would we summon someone famous? Of what use would that be?"

"I don't know," Mira said with a shrug. "Why do we do any of the things that we do?"

Which was a question worth pondering, honestly, as none of them truly had an answer.

Laxus though, who might to have known why the others did what they did, but certainly knew why he did (how many times does he have to cite fucking Mirajane as an answer before it becomes trite), was distracted by something else.

"Do you guys smell that?" he asked as Happy's heart sank, over in the bushes. "That scent. It smells like one of those damn cats."

"Oh, Laxus, hush." Mira patted him on the arm. "And come sit down. We should all practice our breathing techniques."

"Our what now?" Elfman asked.

"And on the ground? Are we sitting on the ground?" Evergreen regarded the grass and dirt with suspicion. "It's filthy!"

"Yes, Ever," Freed sighed as he took wished very little to do so. However, they'd come that far; to back out over something as silly as that would only make the thing even more aggravating. "That is how it works."

While that got him a glare, it only got Mirajane to clap her hands.

"This is just all so much fun already," she giggled. "Don't you guys think?"

No.

But then, the real excitement was only just beginning. In the distance, they all began to hear the sounds of the approaching seith and Lisanna, the latter's maniacal cackle more than carrying through the dense forest.

"You're gonna love it, Lissy," he was saying as he led the woman in question down the path, deeper and deeper into the forest. "Swear it."

"Swear it," came the drifting voices of five lost souls, forever bound (doomed?) to the control of their master. "Swear it."

Giggling along with him, she remarked, "You always give the best gifts, Bicks."

Err, well, he put some thought into them, at least.

But semantics were for squares.

"And," he was drawing out the word as they found themselves on the cusp of the clearing, "here we are!"

"You...invited the others," was what Lisanna said slowly as she found them there, Freed finally starting on kindling the fire, of which Bickslow had previously gathered sticks for a pile. "On our...date."

"Yep!" Bickslow nodded proudly. "That's exactly what I did."

"Don't you know yet, Lisanna?" Mirajane, who was seated on the ground, no quells about it at all. "We're having a séance!"

"We're having a what?"

"Do not," Ever griped as she still only stood, arms crossed over her chest, "complain, girlie. You're lucky we're even here."

"Judging by the look on her face," Freed mused as he hardly glanced up from the fire he was getting going, "I do not think that she's too excited about that either."

"I'm actually a bit disappointed in you, Lisanna," Elfman spoke up. He too had taken his seat on the ground, at the prompting of his older sister of course, and looked a bit goofy, honestly, to his younger one as he glared up and over at her. "Following a strange man into the forest late at night. What's wrong with you? That's how all horror stories start!"

"He's not strange, Elf. He's Bickslow."

"No, the man's right," Freed assured her. "I've known him half my life now and still, I find that he is very strange."

"What did you think you two would be doing out here anyways?" Ever asked, making a face. "Lisanna?"

"W-Well-"

"Get high and behave like the equivalences they are," Laxus griped much to the amusement of Mirajane who had to reach up and pinch at his cheek.

"Dragon," she giggled as the man sat stoically beside her, allowing this. "You talk like such an old man sometimes. It's so cute."

"I just want to get this over with," he complained. "I have things to do."

"What could you possibly have to do," Elfman complained with a frown, "so late at night?"

"Let me guess," Ever replied softly under her breath, "Mirajane?"

"I heard that and no," he grumbled as he glared off. "Actually, Gramps ain't so good at taking his pills these days. Especially his night ones. And since I've been stuck here with you clowns, I haven't had a chance to check to see what he's taken and hasn't. So after this, I gotta head over there."

That got everyone silent. Even Happy over in the bushes felt it and the dolls, who'd been merrily humming some sort off tune between them, did so softer.

Then, slowly, Bickslow remarked, "Jeez, boss, bring the room down much?"

Lisanna, eyes alight, asked, "Yeah, got any stories about brain tumors stored up?"

Instead of responding, Laxus only leaned down and said quite bluntly and audibly, "Mirajane, I don't like them. Either of them. Any of them. Can't we just go?"

"Oh, hush, dragon." His cheek got some more pinching. "You'll see why it's so important soon!"

"Just who, exactly, are we...seancing?" Lisanna, once more, looked to her boyfriend. "Bickslow?"

"Conjuring," he corrected.

"Is it really conjuring though?" Mira put a finger to her lips. "Or is manifesting?"

"The spirit manifests," Freed corrected. "We're summoning."

"Does that involve possession or not?" Evergreen was, once more, finding another reason to back out of their misadventure. "Because if so, spirit or whatever you are, wherever you are, I am not to be entered."

Bickslow, eyes alight, only replied, "Sorry about that then, Elfman."

"What does that even mean?" Elfman roared, recognizing teasing when it was thrown his way. "You're no man!"

"That would be relevant, maybe," Freed sighed, "in any other conversation."

"Who are we summoning, Bickslow?" Laxus impatience was only growing. And if Mirajane tugged at his cheek one more time, it might just bubble over into pure aggravation. "And what's it gotta do with Lisanna?"

"Oi, boss, I's getting to that."

"Then get to it."

"Right." Making a fist then, he rubbed his knuckles against his chest before turning to face his girlfriend. "Ahem. Lissy, as you know, I'm a man of many talents."

With her eyes staring straight into his, she nodded her head. "Many."

"I mean, I'm a great lover."

"The best."

"I'm super funny."

"Super duper."

"I make great burritos."

"The greatest."

"I-"

"Get," Laxus growled then as Mirajane didn't even try to corral him (she was growing weary of their antics as well), "to the point."

"Right, right, boss, sure." That time, the seith nodded. Then, with absolutely no build up or lead in, he said quite frankly, "I'm going to summon your dead parents from the grave."

For a moment, there was silence.

Then, a huffed, "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

But it didn't come from the most likely of culprits. Laxus was busy staring down at Mirajane, trying to judge if she knew this was coming while the demon, who had not, only sat there silently, staring with wide eyes. Evergreen was shocked into silence (plus her love of all things traumatic, if it had to do with others, had more than kicked in). Her boyfriend was much the same, not sure just how to act in such a situation.

Rather, it was Freed who spoke, taking steps away from the fire and over towards his teammate, that deeply disappointed look he had at times like when Laxus blew them off or the seith or Evergreen neglected to do a certain task.

"Why would you even joke about something like that?" the rune mage was asking then. "That's terrible, Bickslow. You're terrible."

"It wasn't a joke, man!" Defensive now as his surprise that he'd thought so log and hard about was being turned into some sort of indictment on his character. "I'm gonna do it. I'mma summon their dead parents."

"Stop," Laxus finally sighed when it became clear his girlfriend did not know about this portion of things, "saying that, Bickslow."

"Why? It's what I'm going to do." Though usually one to cave to his idol, he did not when it came to matters of the heart. "I'm going to summon Mrs. and Mr. Strauss and they're gonna give Lissy the go ahead to marry me and you can all just suck it."

Now with an extra shock causing a hush to fall upon most the group, only Mirajane clapped her hands.

"Now, I knew the proposal part," she spilled to Laxus with a grin before sparing one at her still silent sister across the clearing. "I was so excited! What's more romantic than this?"

"Asking someone other than the woman for permission to do something with her?" Freed turned his eyes to the woman, but it wasn't disappointment he had in them, not even surprise; just exhaustion. "Mira? Do you know what year this is?"

"Mmmm, whatever year Laxus turns fifty?"

The slayer about fell over. "M-Mirajane!"

"Sorry, dragon." Again, she clapped her hands. "I'm just so giddy, I couldn't help myself! Ooh, Bickslow, do you really think you can do it though? Summon our parents? Oooh, now I'm even more excited."

"You are?" Ever raised her eyebrows. "Honestly?"

Nodding, she said, "Would you not be?"

"My parents aren't dead. That I know of."

And that hadn't meant to slip from Ever's mouth, but it had and it too made the already surpassing gauche situation nearly unbearable. After a moment, Bickslow spoke, but only to his girlfriend.

"Jeez, Ever, bring down the room more, why don't you?"

But that time, instead of grinning along, Lisanna only asked, "Can you really, Bickslow?"

"Bring the room down more? Sure. When I was a kid, I once watched another kid cut off a dog's tail and throw it back in the dog's face!"

"I'm done. I'm just don't." Laxus was starting to get up. "Lisanna, you're not allowed to marry or date him anymore. Come on. You can help me check on, Gramps."

"Bickslow," the young woman in question was saying as her sister tugged the slayer back down to the ground, "summon our parents, is what I meant. Can you seriously do that? Can you make it to where I can talk to my mom and dad?"

"Lisanna," Freed tried, but the seith spoke before he could finish.

"Of course." And there wasn't an ounce of wavering in his tone. "Would I say something so outlandish I I couldn't?"

Yes. Of course he would. He did constantly. A day didn't go by that he didn't say complete absurdity seemingly only for the purpose of annoying somebody else.

But would he be that cruel to his own girlfriend?

Yeah, Freed was leaning towards definitely, but what could you do?

"Then...if you guys are okay with it," Lisanna began as she looked around the clearing at her two siblings, "I'd like for you to do so."

"Yes! Oh gosh, yes! How great is this? Laxus never does anything like this for me," Mirajane gushed.

"Emotionally manipulate you by holding the deaths of your parents and my ability to connect with them from beyond the grave hostage?" Snorting, the man said, "Yeah, I've never done that."

"See?" Mira said with a shake of her head, as if disappointed.

"Elf?" Lisanna looked his way then. "Are you...okay with this?"

Evergreen was hoping no. In a twisted way, she was hoping no, but for him to say yes, because that would add even more fuel to the ever-burning fire that was their lives and would no doubt blow up soon enough.

This wasn't to say that a deep part of her wasn't concerned over the big oaf.

Because she was.

This was some heavy shit, assuming Bickslow could pull it off (and that was a big if).

But…

There was something wrong in Evergreen, there always had been, that just didn't care. Not when her own benefit (which was as little as a mere dramatic fight playing out before her) was on the line.

"If you really want him to, what kinda man would I be to deny you?" the man finally conceded.

Perhaps a smart one as, even as Bickslow solemnly received Lisanna's nod and replied with one of his own, Freed knew that something was up. He wasn't sure what, but he knew it had to be something.

And Happy, hidden away in the bushes, would make certain it was.

[trashpandaorigins]

Sweet Child of Mine Ch 1

As a fanfic writer I cannot express how much comments mean to me! These fics do take an exorbitant amount of time to write with flash fics taking me anywhere from an hour to two hours and longer fics taking three hours to five or six. I write for free and all I ask is comments/feedback in return when you like and or reblog!

——–

“Well fine,” Peter Quill growled, “since you don’t know when your best friend’s birthday is, I am picking it and I say that Groot’s birthday is tomorrow!” Rocket rolled his eyes and folded his arms, leaning back against the iron wall of the Milano’s common area.

“Once again you make no sense human,” across the table Drax frowned. “Groot is right here, how can he be born tomorrow?” It was Peter’s turn to roll his eyes as he explained.

“On Terra we celebrate birthdays, like the day that you were born. My birthday is June 4th so on every June 4th I would celebrate.” The celebrations Peter referred to of course were of him whispering “happy birthday” to himself in his bunk, or stow away ship, or whatever dark corner Yondu had him crammed in at that particular moment over the years of his childhood.

“Quill we don’t know what days we were born.” Gamora put in.

“Yeah but remember a few months back when I asked you all about it and you told me, ‘it was warm out?’ I tried to guess and had Rocket do the calculations to try to figure out how we could have a terran calendar for holidays and stuff?” None of them looked like they remembered.

“Oh yeah,” Roket mused, “I was supposed to do that wasn’t I?” He spit on the ground and shook his head.

“Dammnit dude! We probably already missed Easter and I really wanted a chocolate bunny!”

“What’s Easter?” Drax asked. Peter brushed it off,

“Doesn’t matter. Look, I am declaring Groot’s birthday tomorrow. We’ll stop on Dravia tonight, that will give us all time to look for presents and we’ll have a party.”

“It should have been yesterday,” Gamora started, “he opened his eyes yesterday.” Peter nodded, “fine, a belated birthday then. Rocket you really need to do the calculations for my calendar so we can find out what day it was yesterday. Holidays and birthdays are special, it gives us a chance to do some good ol’ fashioned team bonding.”

Rocket only shrugged, this was exactly the sort of the forced team bonding “celebrations,” he hated. How? How could they be talking about presents and sweets for Groot when he just opened his eyes the other day? When he had just been blown to pieces a few days before that? The image of it haunted Rocket every time he closed his eyes. Those big brown, soulful eyes looking at him. Looking into him, before everything was consumed by white light and Rocket felt his best friend shatter all around him. Groot had always been there. He’d been a towering presence, always at Rocket’s back whenever they were in a pinch. Rocket stood on his shoulders, he curled up with him to sleep, Groot was always there and large and looming. But now, now he was just so tiny. So…helpless. But he was here, and Rocket was over joyed, so why was that hole inside him still so deep and dark and full of longing, full of grief? But Groot was back now, wasn’t he? It shouldn’t matter. He was alive. For all their time together He filled that hole with alcohol, with mundane tinkering on every metal surface of the Milano he could find.

How did Star-Dork expect him to try and overlay his terran calendar to the Xandarian one when he could barely keep track of the days and nights? When he wasn’t working on reprogramming, upgrading, reinstalling or building, he drank until he either passed out, threw up or fell into a fitful sleep plagued by nightmares. When he wasn’t doing any of those things, he laboriously, meticulously hovered and watched over Groot.

“Alright troops, meeting over, you’re all dismissed.” Drax nodded and plodded down the Milano’s main corridor down to his quarters. Gamora too gave a small smile and made her way to the bay. Rocket moved to pluck Groot up from the table, he slept soundly upright, little arms gently swaying every now and then.

“Rocket wait, could I talk to you for a sec,” flaark, what is it now? Rocket cursed and set Groot down again.

“What do you want Star-Dork?” Peter smirked in the carefree way that made the cybernetic mammal want to scratch his face off.

“How much longer till we reach Dravia?”

“About three hours by humie time,” he answered shortly, his eyes never leaving Groot asleep in his pot.

“Listen Rocket…” Rocket knew that tone of voice. It was the lets-talk-about-feelings voice. “Are you okay, it’s been a rough couple of days for all of us…let alone you.” Rocket only glared,

“I’m fine Star-Dork! Just peachy! Save your sentimental crap for someone who needs it cause I sure as flark don’t!” It was Peter’s turn to roll his eyes, he put up his hands,

“Alright dude, whatever you say. I’m just sayin’ having your best friend get blown up and…”

“I said I’m fine Star-munch!” He snarled, tail flicking in disgust. Making his way to the cock-pit Rocket held Groot’s pot gently in his arms and carefully placed it on his lap, straining with the seat-belts to secure over the both of them. Two hours later he made the announcement to the ship:

“Hold on to your sorry asses, Dravia comin’ up in one leap.” Without waiting, he pushed the ship forward, thrusting through the galaxy at hyper speed, unconsciously pulling Groot’s pot closer to him as the hurdled forward.

“Rocket!!!” Gamora’s clenched-teeth disapproval echoed as they tumbled closer to Dravia’s atmosphere, eventually settling out and slowing down. Rocket’s red-brown eyes immediately making sure Groot was still in his place. The little Flora Colossus only continued to snooze and the enhanced raccoon spared a relieved breath.

“You reckless animal, you could have killed us all if we had not held on in time!” Drax accused, getting to his feet.

“Pshh, wusses.” Rocket shrugged and turned his attention forward. From the Milano’s large windows he could see Dravia come into sight, an orange film across an otherwise purple atmosphere. A planet of sand and fire and dust, as well a surprisingly bustling trade center for this quadrant of the galaxy.

“Who’s going to stay here with Groot?” Peer asked as the large ramp of Milano came down, landing with a soft thud on the sand. There were very little regulations for landing and launching in Dravia’s vast covered markets. Anywhere a ship could land was usually made into an in-prompt to landing dock. Gamora shook her head when Peter put the question to them and Rocket himself, normally making it a priority to stay within eye-site of the plant at all times, found himself needing a break. He needed ammo and supplies, he needed to find the diviest bar this side of the quadrant and drink himself under the table.

“I will stay with our small plant friend,” Drax said at last to which Quill smiled in appreciation.

“Sounds good, I’ll come back and relieve you in a bit that way you can get a chance to look around. Keep an eye out for gifts for Groot’s birthday!” Rocket dismissively waved his hand, walking down the ramp with his Collanian rifle at his side and two more revolvers at his hips. “…and guys?” He and Gamora turned, “try not to kill anyone this time. We’ll meet back here at dusk, sound good?” Rocket nodded without a sound and quickly made himself scarce in the labyrinthine markets. As always when he reached a new destination, he kept one eye out for anything resembling himself. Any augmented mammals, though he didn’t know what a mammal was. He did it subconsciously, hardly aware of it anymore. What he was keenly aware of however were the stares from humies and other aliens alike. One move for his guns however and they quickly turned the other way. But even that look of dread in their eyes no longer made his heart thrum with superiority like it used to.

Sharp smells of spices drifted through his nose, the sounds of bells and shop keeps hocking their wares sounded in his ears. Rocket drifted in and out of shops, taking whatever he needed. Too easy, he thought taking a roll of 19 caliber Torlac ammunition and slipping it into his left leg pocket. He exited the shop and turned down another street, easily dodging the legs of those who towered over him.

Gotta get a damn gift for Groot…he thought, pushing back the anxious thoughts of the little plant back on the ship. But what would he want? Rocket looked passed the different stalls as he walked. Small ornaments to hang from his branches and look at, preferably yellow or green, bottled soil from the forests of Havmouth, Flavian water, these things bought, not stolen. The honest way, that was half the present. Rocket knew that much from when they celebrated the day the two of them broke out of that laboratory asylum on Halfworld but that was what the old Groot liked. What about this tiny twig Groot? How much of him is actually there? Rocket contemplated not for the first time. It was too early to tell however, he reassured himself to stop from worrying about it. Maybe a new pot? I could get a yellow and green one, see if he likes he still has his favorite colors. Yeah that could—

“Hey vermin watch where your going!” A hard boot hit him roughly in the chest and Rocket found himself pushed to the side. “Damn rodent,” the large horned alien cursed and continued rushing along.

“Hey! Who you callin’ rodent mister?!” Rocket bristled, reaching for his rifle. By the time he had it out the creature was lost in the crowed and those around him hardly glanced at the small mammal beneath them. He cursed, putting it away and shook his head. Another piece of kindling on the pyre of his rage. Like always, he fumed, storming off down another alley. Spying a plant shop he looked around, plant life of all kinds and all shades grew from various pots. Rocket ducked under a large pink colored leaf just as the shop woman glanced over her shoulder. He reemerged, looking at a stack of smallish shaped pots, each of them brightly colored. He shook his head,

Cheap plastic, no. Groot deserves better than that. Groot deserves better. He deserved better. Rocket left without a purchase. The dark clouds of hatred rising in him. “I called him an idiot,” he repeated the mantra over to himself. Rocket called him an idiot, he yelled at him whenever he didn’t go with the plan, when he misunderstood directions, Rocket snarled and hissed at him whenever Groot tried to touch him, give him a pat of affection. Groot deserved so much better than the asshole partner Rocket had been. The worst had been when they were still on Halfworld, Rocket’s mind fried from his latest “modification.” He lay in his cell, shaking and delirious when the blurry image of Groot’s hand reached through the bars. In it was a small round frown of flowers. All shades of pink interspersed with leaves, Rocket had growled even as Groot reached out to him farther.

“I am Groot!” Rocket had stood, strode across the space between them and snatched the floral crown. He tore it to pieces until all that was left were slivers of pink and green and brown. The wide-eyed look of shock and hurt lacerated Rocket’s heart even now as he walked through the shops. He was hurt too, all carved up and burnt. How long did it take him to grow those flowers? Rocket shook his head. Something caught his eye, a green and yellow windmill that he had seen humie kids playing with. Might give him something to play with in that pot of his. Rocket thought, approaching the stand with practiced swagger.

“Get outta here, no varmint in my shop!” The man looked down at him as he approached. Rocket’s ears flicked back the words cutting him.

“I jus’ wanna buy one of those windmill things and I’ll be going.” The shopkeep narrowed his single eye, scrutinizing the enhanced raccoon not dissimilar as to those scientists on Halfworld. Rocket should have been used to it by now, but still that look made him want to sink into the floor and never come back.

“There twelve units. Double for rodents.”

“You this much of an asshole to everyone or am I lucky?” Rocket snapped back. The alien creature’s frowned deepened.

“Twenty four units.” Rocket huffed, that was enough for two drinks! Three if he got that shitty watered down crap. For Groot. He picked up one of the windmills and threw the units down on the counter, walking away before the one-eyed alien could make another smart remark. It was almost dusk, and Rocket made just enough time to swing back to the plant shop and get one of those pots. He’s going to need a bigger one eventually anyway, he thought to himself heading back to the ship. The Milano was intact; no missing pieces, no armies attacking. Rocket strode inside, up the cargo bay to the main bridge, up to the main deck, down the hall around the corner and halted. Music played from the common area, Peter twisted and danced, in his small pot Baby Groot flailed his hands and swayed along, mouth open in a large smile.

“Ooo child things are gonna get easier, Ooo child things are gonna get brighter!”

Rocket watched them dance, watched Groot move as much as he could and wave his arms around. Frozen with indignation and bittersweet resolve for several minutes, he swallowed and made his way back down the hall, through the narrow corridors and down another flight of steps to the engine room. Amid the main fuse, engine, controls for gravity, oxygen and other essentials Rocket kicked through his own weapons, ammunition, armor, and other belongings. Pushing aside s half-finished blaster resting on a six pack of Yagger Lager, he reached under the bulkhead into one of the many nooks and crannies of the engine room, against the far wall, up and to the left, sliding on his belly to get his arm up there and pulled down a small tin box.

“I’ll do better,” he breathed staring at the four other sticks he had saved from the explosion. He didn’t dare touch them. “This time I’ll do better, I promise.” Even as he said the words doubt squirmed in his stomach. “I’ll do it right this time.” His voice cracked and he closed the box, glancing at the small torn bits of pink flower petals as he did so.

[undercovermcdfan]

Travlyn. Where did they go on their honeymoon?

title: Life on overload (must we make aspectacle of love)

pairing(s): travlyn

summary: people always said their lovewould burn out too quickly; travis was delighted how wrong they were.Honeymoon. MCD. Travlyn

a/n: I know this is a question, but Ilike to answer it with a fic. So, thank you for letting me indulge in myfavorite thing!!! Writing sappy stuff for my otp. Basically, the run down isthat this takes place far in the future and I’ll keep it very very vague howmany years down the line. Inspo song is Overload by John Legend ft. Miguel

warning(s): vague adult humor, fluff, textbookdiscrimination

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day two

“It’s a quite… um, a fixer-upper, I suppose?”

He laughed, resting his hand on the worn woodenstructure—otherwise known as his childhood home he spent oh so many years in.The hike from the main village hub to the dinky cabin hidden in the forestedmountain top of Enki’s island normally didn’t take long, but between supplygathering to drag up and Katelyn near fighting with merchants to simply sell them the supplies extended thehours that would normally take from the port to his old home. “Quiteoptimistic, aren’t you,” Travis mused, throwing her smile, “But I know thisplace as well as I know myself—there’s a reason I had us drag up so much stuff,love.”

Katelyn sighed. “We had to be a weird kind of newlyweds,” adjustingher pack, a smile appeared on her lips as she stepped forward, “I never eventhought of marriage, much less the idea of rebuilding my husband’s old home asa honeymoon but here we are.”

“Here we are…” he softly repeated, looking at the homebefore him. Nostalgia weighed heavily but also other, more complicated feelingstoo. For all the years spent here, to return felt almost damning—to hismother’s wish, to the curse this place one held on him, a symbol of isolation,a symbol of close-minded mentality he was chained to…

But there’s warmth, like a kindling fire, of the memories itkept. He took in a deep breath of the mountain air and Katelyn lock their fingerstogether, nudging slightly. “Travis, are you going to give me a tour of yourhome? Or are you going to be a terrible host and make me wait here?”

He laughed, pulling out a key from his pocket and stickingit in the door. As it flew open, he turned to her. She walked forward,intending to walk past but he held up a hand— before her questioning gaze meethis spirited glint, she found herself being lifted, legs and back supported asshe gave a surprise “What the—“

“Our house, love,” Travis grinned, taking a step in, “You mean ourhouse.”

She snorted, her arms wrapping his neck as she rolled hereyes, “Don’t you think it’s a little cliché for me to be carried in?”

“If it’s a cliché, it means there’s some sentimental valueto it, my dear.”

“Sentimental and you do go hand in hand…” she hummed,pressing her lips against the curse of his jaw, “Just because we’re married,don’t you dare treat me like your damsels from your romance novels?”

“A damsel? No. I’m just actualizing a promise I made tomyself,” he chuckled, ticklish from her slow-moving lips and hmm sound of consideration. “So where doyou want to go first?”

“Our bedroom would be nice.”

He raised a brow, smile turning devilish. “Interestingchoice, my dear.”

Her cheeks flushed, “I just want to see the state of what I haveto sleep in! Lucinda given us some potions to help with the cleanup….” Hisexpression didn’t fade, and she averted her gaze, burying her face against him,her voice muffled, “And… Travis, we’remarried.”

“I know,” he whispered, “it’s amazing.”

“Quite. And there’s certain things I should expect,” shesaid softly, “we walked for hours to get here, dragging so many materials—all Iwant is a nice bath and you at this very moment, but bath is unlikely and we’renewlyweds. So…”

“…we’ll check the bedroom first, love.”

She smiled.

day 16

The house was coming along nicely.

Though, Travis admitted that he lost his touch withmaintenance—he grown soft in his years of fighting and living in Brightportwith Katelyn—, the house wasn’t as bad as condition he was expecting.

For starters, the home was smaller than he remembered. Withall the books that took up space already and the ones they brought, it was evensmaller. Two rooms, a single bath,not quite stylish like the homes within the village at the bottom of themountain but it had a humble charm to it. Their calloused hands welcomed newblisters and roughness from work, patching the holes and replacing rotted woodas they slowly cleaned within.

Thank Irene forLucinda, Katelyn would often mention as she sparingly used the potionsgifted from the witch herself as a house warming/wedding present. The potioncontained the ability of restoration of non-magical and non-living objects, andthe potency was above average thanks to it being made by… well, Lucinda. Old furniture, damaged by theyears and weather, restored to almost new as well as a quick and lazy fix up ofthe rooms that require more than just a basic knowledge of home repair.

They officially moved in by the second week, the kitchenbeing stocked and fixed up to his own liking and Katelyn’s indifference. Theyrotated between the inn room that was a midway spot of their home and thevillage, slowly bringing more and leaving more.

Katelyn insisted they set up the second room, his old room,as his studio. She left her training dummy in an unoccupied corner of the home,with her murmuring about making a proper place once the weather thawed and theycould hire somebody to build. They ate dinner at sunset, slept with a warm firecozying their room and waking in tangled limbs, laughs and morning-breathkisses.

He’d would often catch her in front of the mirror, appearingat her appearance and long hair—it grown out since the last time she cut it,and knowing the look she held, she felt it was long overdue for another.

“It’s a hassle to clean,” she sighed, as he brushed herhair, “There’s never enough warm bath water to get through it all.”

He hummed, running his fingers through the curly softness.

“It’s efficient. And signifies a fresh start, you know,” sheleaned back to him, glancing up with a smile, “What do you think?”

“If it makes you happy, I say go for it.”

She softened her look, shutting her eyes as she said, “A conwould be this not being necessary anymore.”

“Mhm.”

“No more practicing your skills at making subpar braids.”

“True.”

“What if I cut it all off? Not shoulder length, chin or evenup to my ear,” she pushed back her hair from her face, glancing up, “All gone.”

“…well,” he grinned, pressing a kiss to her forehead,“Anything you choose, I guarantee I’ll be a sucker for. I got quite the biasfor you, love.”

Her smile widened, reaching up and letting her fingerstrail, shutting his eyes as she chuckled, “Stop that.”

He laughed. “You cannot silence the truth, my dear!” Heleaned down more, arms wrapping around her waist, and mercilessly, started hisattack of kisses.

“Oh my Irene,” she squirmed slightly, half-heartedly tryingto push him away but she succumb to strangled laughs that escaped and loudsnorts as it rolls into a genuine one.

Safe to say, she did end up cutting her hair but not to thelevel she suggested. Smiling, she turned toward his waiting form by thedoorway, expectant look as she waited for him to voice his thoughts.

“You look adorable.”

She rolled her eyes, then proceeded to twist a lock aroundher finger. “Thank you…” she patted space beside her, grabbing the scissors,“So what about—“

“Suddenly I remembered this very important thing I had todo!”

“It’s only trim! Travis, come back—Travis, I promise it’s just a—“ her laughsechoed through the house, as he ducked out and she, indulging in the chase,followed.

Day 28

The village tolerated his presence—realizing he was going tostay a while. Though they were thankful for the tyranny of the Demon Warlocksuddenly gone away and acknowledged, finally, Travis must’ve done somethingabout it… prejudices don’t suddenly evaporate.

“I’m sorry,” a shopkeeper said, with a genuinely apologeticlook, “But a… you know. You both are my first costumers and I wouldn’t like totempt the fates with, um, bad luck of you making a purchase.”

Travis’s face was trained pleasantness, smile and a soft“Oh, of course.” started already on his lips but as per their routine, Katelyndidn’t let him finish. Her eyes darken, and though the merchant towered her, heseemed to shrink under her gaze.

“You superstitious fool,”she grabbed the coin purse from Travis, “it is way too early for this amount of idiocy. Bad luck? Bad luck.” She scoffed, her voice goingfrom amused disbelief to mumbling as she walked around the store, collectingwhat they needed. “Every time I think this village isn’t so bad, people like you remind me it isn’t so.”

“Ma’am.”

“Don’t you talk to me,” she snapped, “I can’t promise what Imight do if you say something and I find myself getting offended again.”

Travis watched from the door way, awkwardly glancing fromKatelyn’s ranting to the frightened merchant—and he felt his smile go from fauxpoliteness of a friendly half demon to genuine and affectionate smile of aloving husband.

She slammed the money on the counter, not looking back or caring if she paid him too little or toomuch. The merchant didn’t call out with a correction, watching in stunnedsilence as the furious woman walked out, head held high, face etched with anicy calm expression.

He asked if she wanted him to carry the items she forcefullypurchased.

She shook her head.

He would like to say, this was a rare occurrence but twohours didn’t go by before Katelyn was reminded of his status within thevillage.

“You can buy here but it…”

“He’s one of the good ones, but still…”

“I’m sorry but it knows the rules and I sell these products to customers.”

Katelyn always gave her threats—one more word and they willfeel the wrath of Irene’s top general and they never tempted further. Sometimeshe’d ask if she was okay, and she was an honest person, she never did answer;she instead gave a complicated look, sadness and anger wrapped in exhaustion,maybe whispering to him a “I love you, Travis.”

When they return to the inn that became a second home andgreeted with wide smiles of a kindly older women who ran it, Katelyn collapsedon the bed with a groan and hugging the pillow close. “This place is hell,” shewhined, muffled against the pillow, “I use to think O’kasis deserved that titlebut no—this is hell.”

Travis chuckled, settling at the edge of the bed and hereached out for her hand. She accepted his hand readily, giving him a smallsqueeze. “You know you’re pretty hot whenever your threatening forty-year-oldbigoted merchants.”

She moved the pillow, enough so she could squint at him, agaze of ‘you’re unbelievable’ conveying perfectly at him.

Travis shrugged and thumbed the back of her hand, smiling,“I’m being honest. I can think about… two occasions where I wanted to kiss youmore than right now.” He pressed a small kiss to her knuckles, “I love you somuch.”

“I love you too,” she said back but there’s hesitation toher voice. The anger died and replace by sadness, sorrowful and almost pitying,as she softly continued, “You’re a good man, Travis. I didn’t question why youwanted to come back here but…” she smiled, interlocking their fingers, “I’llfollow you and remind you, stubbornly so, I love you more than thisIrene-forsaken island could ever.”

He laughed. She chuckled.

“I know. I know, and… I might not always speak up, I doappreciate what you do,” he softly said, leaning closer and she scooted, makingroom on the bed. He tossed the pillow aside, and she reached up, gentlytouching his cheek, “I can’t change their minds immediately… but that doesn’tmatter with you here. It doesn’t feel as scary anymore.”

They kissed, softly and comforting; her hand cupped the backof his head and his trailed down her side, squeezing her thigh.

When they pulled away, she whispered, out of breath: “Wait—Iforgot to send out our letters.”

He groaned, leaning his head against her shoulder, “Do wehave to go back? I was hoping to go home tomorrow.”

“And we will—but I promised to send updates to Liochant andthe others.”

He pouted.

“You could sleep in while I do that. Then I’ll come back andwe’ll go home together.”

“…I’ll come with,” he sighed, giving a small peck under herjaw, “Might as well check on the Doc; I didn’t get a chance today anyways.”

She nodded, running her fingers through his hair and shuther eyes. “Mmhm, we should invest in horses.”

“We should.”

“I’ll ask Liochant to send over some more money from mysavings.”

“And that he should come for a visit,” Travis chuckled, “Imiss that kid and the way he just… his anxious way of functioning.”

“Be nice,” she laughed, tugging at his ear, “Liochant isn’ta kid; you could learn a bit of manners from him, you know.”

“I’m good.”

“Sure you are,” she rest her cheek against the top of hishead, “You always are.”

Day 57

Katelyn rubbed her abdomen, quietly looking out the window;her legs crossed and blanket draped over her, she watched the pounding rain asrain roared outside. She could hear Travis in the kitchen, setting up theirdinner—he insisted making the curry Liochant sent a recipe for, and though thethought of rice was making her sick, she smiled at his enthusiasm.

He didn’t know.

Not yet, at least.

The doctor stated she was at least two months along. ButTravis thought she wasn’t feeling well, tired from debating whether they shouldexpand the home—he insisted it was fine for now, even though more and more itgot cluttered; she insisted they needed more space, though keeping her reasons why under lock and key.

In their living room, paintings hung all around—some ofherself, of himself, of both, and smaller ones of their friends but the largestby far was a woman with long, curly white hair, green eyes calmly looking downat her as her face, eyes and freckles familiar, a reserved smile and modestdress was worn. A painting made from memory, tears and he stubbornly draggedalong with them, fretting over with their trip to Enki’s island.

Six years. Many failed attempts and tears, a painting ofTravis’s mother.

He told her he could always do better, but she doubted heeven believed that—it was breath-taking work, and the years spent on it shown.She loved it as much as he did himself.

Cradling her drink, she found her mirroring a smile at thepainting, softly saying: “It’s been a while since we last talked. I have somegood news.”

Day 198

She attempted to get up but before she could make thetall-tale sign of an attempt, he was already at her side, flustered and smilingas he insisted she should sit while he get her more tea.

Lucinda, amused, shook her head and Aphmau laughed. Isabel,on the other, looked absolutely fascinated; eyes darting from Katelyn toTravis, she watched as Katelyn quietly thanked him and he beamed, pressing aquick peck to her forehead.

“I know we always joked about it, but…” Lucinda trailed, offas her eyes followed Travis’s disappearing form, “I’m honestly surprised he’staking to this fatherhood thing better than we expected.”

Katelyn chuckled, blushing, “Well… He has a good heart. AndI always suspected this was something he was looking forward to.”

“How do you know?” Isabel piqued, tilting her head, “BecauseI was out of the loop with Travis being anything like that.”

Katelyn, tucking her hair behind her ear, sat up a little asher hand placed on her large belly—“Twins,”Lucinda said the moment her eyes laid on Katelyn, “Boy. He really doesn’t makeit easy for you.”—and she rubbed her neck. “When I told him, two thingshappened—firstly, he cried. Looking at me, surprised and I almost thought hewas upset with it until he started sniffling, tears instantaneous.” Lucinda,Aphmau and Isabel laughed. Katelyn smiled softly, “And secondly, he wouldn’tlet go of me for the hour after, whispering Weshould go to the doctor and Oh myIrene, I love you so much. I feel like it was pretty transparent what hewas feeling.”

“Well—“ Travis’s voice interrupting them, pursued lips ashanded Katelyn her cup, “In my defense, I was kind of surprised. I didn’tthink… this would have happened so fast.”

“But it did.” Aphmau pointed out, cupping her chin with agrin, “And I’m going to be a God-mother.”

“Hey, who said you’re going to be the god mother!” Lucindaretorted, “If anything, I’m the obvious choice.”

“Well, Lady Aphmau istechnically a God…dess, and a mother. I feel the irony would be a missedopportunity.”

Travis and Aphmau naturally laughed, while Lucinda sputteredat Isabel’s point. Katelyn shook her head. “I missed this,” she softly said.Travis squeezed her shoulder, pressing a kiss to her temple.

“Will you be saying that for the next week?” he whispered.

She rolled her eyes, looking fondly at her friends.

“Maybe a week is pushing it.”

“I bet three days.”

“I’ll give it four, I’m generous.”

Day 302

A boy and a girl.

Their ruddy complexion and tuffs of pale blue hair,yelling with lungs they definitely inheritedfrom him and short temper from her.

Hughes was bit clingier than his younger sister—if he wasn’theld while awake, he’ll let anybody know of his displeasure. Luckily for him,his father was perfectly alright with spoiling him like so. Eponine was quieterbut that didn’t mean she was less trouble; her hands grabbed whatever it could,always hungry and particular how she should be held.

Sleep was more of a fantasy for the two of them.

But between their exhausted yawns and half-dazed way offunctioning now, there wasn’t a moment of regret.

“Look, Hughes, it’s your mama—“ Travis said, smiling wide ashe angled the way he held their son, purple eyes landed at her and the baby letout a gurgled sound. Katelyn, smiling, waved back at Hughes attempts to reach out.“Isn’t she lovely?” He cleared his voice, making it a higher pitched andsofter, “Gee, ma, you look absolutely radianttoday.”

“In your sister’s puke and unwashed hair?”

“Of course! You’rethe prettiest ma ever.”

She chuckled, rolling her eyes. “I feel like you’rebuttering me up.”

Travis smiled, kissing their son’s forehead as said softly, “Don’tquestion our son—he has a point, love.”

“Hmm, I have the sneaking suspicion you fed him some lines.”

“How dare! He expressed those thoughts, independent of meand my influence,” he laughed, walking over and settling down beside her, “he’s asmart cookie, Katelyn.”

She hummed in return, resting her head on his shoulder. “Of course.They both are. Fussy, stubborn but smart—like their parents.”

“Just like their parents,” he whispered, resting his headagainst her.

But peace doesn’t last long. Hughes, taking in a deepbreath, let out a powerful cry suddenly—and being startled awake, naturally,Eponine joined in the crying.

They both sighed. “I guess that was nice while it lasted.”

day 364

“I feel like…” Katelyn started, biting her lip, “staying alittle longer wouldn’t hurt.”

Travis straighten, looking up from Eponine and his mouthagape. “What.”

“Just a little bit. Until they’re strong enough to travel bysea… they’re my kids too, and I fear my sea sickness could’ve spread to them.”

But her face gave it away; with a light flush and avertedeyes, it spelt something else out.

But he let it go, with an “Of course.”

day 640

Hughes continued to lean against his mother, as his sisterdarted away—awkward steps which Travis matched, worriedly hovering over hisdaughter’s escape.

Safe to say who inherited what. She rubbed soothing circles,humming an old hymn to calm her son’s nerves. He gave a small whine and burped—shefelt pity for the small boy.

Eponine, on the other hand, was like her father; naturallytaking to the sea— with a shout of utter glee as she near falls but Travisscooping her up before any damage could be done. Normally, Travis would beenjoying himself; but between a ill wife and son, and a daughter who thoughtescaping their room was an appropriate game, he could see his nerves beingfrayed.

Hughes’ skin, darken to a greyish skin tone, eyes moreintensely purple and small bumps otherwise as horns protrude from his head. Hedidn’t like his demonic form, Travis explaining that it must’ve left him drainsince it naturally didn’t come to either of the kids unless they were upset.Hughes wore a teary-eyed expression, wiggling closer and closer, as if hismother could ease away all his pain and her heart ached at this gesture as shedid best she could.

Maybe the move was a bad idea, she wanted to say.

But she been away from her responsibilities for far too long—andthough they put love back into their home on Enki’s island… both agreed thiswas the right choice. Travis wouldn’t allow his kids to grow up in such a toxicenvironment.

A knock at their door pulled her out of her thoughts andbefore she could ask who it was—a familiar face throws it open and the form ofannoyed Zenix, curious yet at eased Vylad and the culprit who opened the door,Laurance, smiling at all four of them.

Eponine immediately had her arms outstretched, a gleefulreach for Laurance who laughed and walked over to Travis as Zenix shut the doorand Vylad approached her, all giving hellos.

“I felt like you two needed a break. We’ll be in Brightportin a couple of hours—so…”

Travis gave a relieved smile, whispering a quiet thanks butKatelyn hesitated. “I don’t know… I got this. Hughes prefers me to hold him, itseems.”

Laurance furrowed his brows, “I would suggest taking himwith you but…”

Travis looked at her and she bit her lip, rubbing her thumbagainst her son’s forehead as he weakly whines “Mama…”

“Maybe you three and Travis could take Eponine up; she’dprobably like watching the seagulls and stuff.”

“I wont go,” Travis said, and Laurance nodded. Taking theirdaughter in his arms, he smiled as he softly asked her, “Do you wanna see somecool clouds, Nina? You been cooped up here way too long.” She giggled, thenreached over to Zenix. Laurance laughed, handing her to Zenix, who gave his ownsmile and with that, all three left.

Travis joined her on the bed, one arm around her shoulderswhile the other hand rested on hers that laid on Hughes’s back.

“How is he doing?”

“He’ll live, but…” Katelyn frowned, “I’m so sorry,sweetheart. You just had to get my seasickness, didn’t you?”

“I suppose sons really do take after their mothers.”

“Especially him,” she chuckled. Travis pressed a kiss to hisforehead, then her temple. From the corner of her eyes, she could see his formshift; horns start to show, sharpen teeth and purple eyes gave way. Not hisfull form—they realized, a bit ago, it distressed the kids in ways they didn’tquite understand but for now, Travis kept way.

“It’ll be over soon,” he said reassuringly.

“Mmhmm,” she smiled, shutting her eyes, “Soon you’ll seeUncle Liochant, Auntie Isabel, Mama Aph…”

“Also, Alina—she’s dying to see you again. Lilith too.”

She hummed again, in agreement. “You’ll love it inBrightport. We have such a big home—you could have your own room, if you want.”

“He probably wouldn’t though,” Travis said, laughing, “hecan barely sleep alone in the same bed.”

“And there’s no shame in that.”

“Oh yeah, definitely not,” Travis patted his head, “I mean,I sleep with your mother to this day, so I cannot judge. It’s always nicer thansleeping alone.”

She hummed again. Leaning against him, she sighed as sheshut her eyes. “Just a few more hours.”

“A few more, love.”

She laughed, shaking his head, “I hope I can make it.”

He laughed too, howdramatic he said but nothing more. Soon, she felt herself slipping intosleep; her arms empty, as Travis pry away their son, who didn’t make much of afuss beside a small confused whine.

It’s strange, almost two years ago, they left Brightportwith the intention of just spending a few months. A few months became a year.Then two. Now they returned with two children, a home left behind and…amusingly, being more in love and loved than they started.

She suppose this wasn’t quite a honeymoon, since it wasanything but relaxing and lounging… yet sincerely, she felt only fuller andhappier.

She mumbled sleepily, ”I love you.”

“Get some rest, love,” he said back but she already wasthere. Smiles on both their faces, leaning against each other as they listenedto the sway of the ocean and heartbeats.

[cataschism]

@thessence

Joy Sullivan, from Instructions for Traveling West: Poems; “All Day Long There Is a Bursting”

[transguykeith]

i wanted to ask u a few of the writer asks but i can't decide which one i want to ask you most, could you answer all the asks? lmao if its too muh of a mission i can just decide on a few

It’s not like I’m doing anything else so yeah, why not. I just won’t ones that might not apply. I’ll put some of this under a read more:

1. Describe your comfort zone—a typical you-fic.

usually some sort of character study of sorts mixed in with scattered events to lead to an ultimate end goal.

2. Is there a trope you’ve yet to try your hand at, but really want to?

im a sucker for a good soulmate au, so maybe one of those eventually

3. Is there a trope you wouldn’t touch with a ten foot pole?

i would never write an abo fic, just no

4. How many fic ideas are you nurturing right now? Care to share one of them?

um, a LOT, like a ton of them my main one is a college au of sorts centering around Yuuri and Phichit as well as Victor, its title is Made of Stars and its gonna be fun to write

5. Share one of your strengths.

i mean, i guess im okay at character studies, but i dunno, im really not super great

6. Share one of your weaknesses.

pretty much everything, im not great at connectivity or writing in a pretty style. like i just kinda write, im not particularly great at it

7. Share a snippet from one of your favorite pieces of prose you’ve written and  explain why you’re proud of it.

This is from chapter 5 of You’re Not Alone:He danced because he skated, and he skated because skating was flying. And somewhere along the way he forgot what had drawn him to it the first place. He supposed that that was what he was searching for some days, that spark that started everything.

That spark that started a fire, a fire that’s flames were the smallest they had ever been. It was almost funny how one small moment could all but extinguish him. A spark started it all, ballet was just kindling, ice skating was logs, and he was a forest ablaze. But it was as if that one moment had sucked the oxygen from the air and the flames died, it suffocated him.

This is a bit flowwier than some of what i write, it’s one of my favorite lines because it encompasses what i have him feeling in that exact moment

8. Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

I think this is one of my favorites, it’s from chapter 17 of You’re Not Alone:

“I’m glad too,” Otabek smiled. “It’s how this doing goes though. You dedicate your soul, mind, and body to the ice and you don’t always get to leave without losing something to it. It’s give and take, we’re all just caught in an intricate dance until the fates bottom us out one way or another.”

“When did you go all serious on me?” Yuri teased. He had gotten used to Otabek’s propensity for the occasional dramatic monologue though, they gave a good look into the head of his friend.

“Think about it Yuri,” Otabek clearly wasn’t done. “Here we are, the pinnacle of humanity, literally trying to carve a place for ourselves in history. We have to fight the fundamentals of the universe to do what we do, work against gravity itself all while having a timer above our heads. Who knows when it will expire and the ice will take it all away. We fight everything to be able to do this: the laws of physics, the passing of time, even our own bodies. That’s what makes you a soldier, we all fight this fight but you’re out there with a makeshift helmet and a sharpened stick while the rest of us have full armor and swords. And who is it that we see winning the battle time and time again, you.”

“Did you really drag me out here to give a dramatic monologue on how impressive I am,” Yuri flushed at the barrage of compliments. “You’re such a dork,” he buried his face in his hands.

I just really like how it turned out.

9. Which fic has been the hardest to write?

I guess You’re Not Alone just because of how long it is, but it depends. some of it has been very easy to write and some of it ( ahem my current chapter) has been really hard

10. Which fic has been the easiest to write? 

I’ve written a lot of little drabbles and one shots that i havent posted anywhere but the easiest was probably the little request i did yesterday which is either titled “Pretty Darn Cute” or “The second prettiest boy in the world”

11. Is writing your passion or just a fun hobby?

a little bit of both really

13. What’s the best writing advice you’ve ever come across?

if you have an idea, write it down immediately. it doesnt matter if youre currently engaged in something else, write that shit down or you WILL lose it

14. What’s the worst writing advice you’ve ever come across?

not necessarily advice, but like the idea of only writing it if you think its good

16. If you only could write one pairing for the rest of your life, which pairing would it be?

can I say Yuri Plisetsky and happiness, because yes

17. Do you write your story from start to finish, or do you write the scenes out of order?

I tend to write my chapters in order, but within each chapter i jump around a bit and then connect everything

18. Do you use any tools, like worksheets or outlines?

I have an outline in my head that i sometimes write down, im usually good about following it

19. Stephen King once said that his muse is a man who lives in the basement. Do you have a muse?

my muse is the genderless ghost that haunts me it stares into my cold soul and pokes me until i words

20. Describe your perfect writing conditions.

I prefer it to be kind of dark and i like to be nice and cozy, though sometimes ill be struck with random inspiration and have to write it no matter where i am

21. How many times do you usually revise your fic/chapter before posting?

Ha, revising?! whats that

25. What do you look for in a beta?I have never had a beta, but if i did have one i would like someone to help me idea bounce and keep my writing from sounding choppy

26. Do you beta yourself? If so, what kind of beta are you? 

I haven’t but i would be willing to if anybody wanted me to. I’m pretty good with general editing skills and idea flow

30. Do you accept prompts?

yes! please send me prompts i love them. I cannot exaggerate how much i appreciate being sent prompts

31. Do you take liberties with canon or are you very strict about your fic being canon compliant?

i would say im right in the middle about this, it really depends on what im writing though

32. How do you feel about smut?

ive never really tried my hand at it, i havent written anything that calls for it, but my next fic might

33. How do you feel about crack?

i kind of have written some stuff that could be considered borderline crack, but most of it isnt fanfic and i havent shared that

34. What are your thoughts on non-con and dub-con?

personally, i probably wouldn’t write it, but if its necessary for a backstory then maybe but certainly not in detail

35. Would you ever kill off a canon character?

oh certainly, just depends on the fic im writing

36. Which is your favorite site to post fic?

ao3

37. Talk about your current wips.

my main wip is Youre Not Alone and that one is getting close to its end, i know where it’s going and how it will end i just have to write my way there, but I’ve had some pretty bad writers block in regards to it lately

38. Talk about a review that made your day.

i got this one really long review gushing about how much my story meant to them and how reading it always made their day feel better and that was just such a nice review and it made me really happy. Another one i really liked was somebody complimenting something i did that a lot of other people complained about so i really appreciated that one

39. Do you ever get rude reviews and how do you deal with them?

ive gotten a few upset reviews about something i included in You’re Not Alone, but i cant do much about it. i once got a review about four chapters in asking why yuri had a menstrual cycle and this wasnt rude exactly, but how do you read that far without knowing he’s trans in my fic

[cataschism]

@venstm

Yusef Komunyakaa, from "After the Heart's Interrogation"

[cataschism]

@absolventiia

[That person] often thinks about that to this day. Not about how terrible it was, but about how odd it is that you can’t hate your mom. That it still doesn’t feel like it was her fault.

—from Anxious People, by Fredrik Backman

[cataschism]

@venstm

— Traci Brimhall, Dear Eros