#*—some nights i stay up cashing in my bad luck * musings | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

heoneyology · 4 years ago

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simply human | l.jy

A/N: this was supposed to be posted yesterday for halloween so uhh happy late halloween look at me I’m trying to write again! it’s not spooky so I guess posting it today isn’t a huge deal, still fits the season... based loosely on this story idea.

Word Count: 6866

Genre: catboy!juyeon, warlock!juyeon, fluff, lightly implied romance

Pairing: reader (gender neutral) x lee juyeon (the boyz)

Warnings: mentions of magic though nothing used... uhh... very slowly paced is a warning as well (like there’s barely any juyeon wtf was I doing???), also I have a habit of trailing things off at the end of my writings and leaving things to the reader’s imagination after sorry :’))

Summary: Lee Juyeon is possibly one of the most eligible bachelors in town—his looks being favored by everyone who lays their eyes on him—but he has one thing working against him: He’s a warlock. In the city, those who practice magic are just thought of as normal, everyday people. But in smaller towns, they’re thought of as bad luck and archaic. It’s a bias that you’ll never quite understand, and thus you watch the handsome boy who visits the coffee shop you work at daily, admiring him from afar. You’d never have guessed he was leading a quiet double life...

A deep sigh falls past your lips, one that seems to come straight from the depths of your chest—maybe even deeper. It holds something that words can’t quite express; stresses, longing, and a confusion you aren’t sure how to work past. Next to you, the black cat who is just an arm’s length away stirs. It peeps one eye open as your breath travels through the blades of grass, passing through before ghosting over the cat’s fur. It tickles, and felines don’t much like things that tickle.

You’d been watching the cat this entire time, so when it cracks a single amber eye open to fixate on you, you suck in the breath you’d just let out, freezing in place. Waiting, wondering. Had you somehow deterred away your latest friend and most recent confidant?

“Sorry,” you whisper to the cat, wondering if that will somehow remedy the situation.

The cat’s ears flicker in response, and that single amber eye closes.

You’d dealt with many cats before that. For many, as soon as you even so much as had your fingertips graze their fur the wrong way, they’d go scurrying off. Some even liked to lash out. This cat, however, was a curious little fellow—you were fairly certain it was a fellow—it liked to lay just out of your reach, near you, whenever you came to sit underneath the maple tree in the warm afternoons; on days when the sun was just peaking at its highest before dipping down below the horizon. Now that autumn was in full force, days were growing shorter and the warmth which you sought by the sun and the maple—a space to think freely and escape your worries—was also growing shorter as the chill of the oncoming winter began to set in earlier and earlier each day.

The cat seemed to have the same idea as you, seeking out the tree for afternoon naps and letting you rant your heart away. Somehow, it almost seemed as if the feline was listening to you—but not just listening, understanding, as well. The little black feline would fix you with a gaze that was so deep and knowing, you sometimes felt as if you were oversharing. Whenever the cat met your eyes, you could feel your heart seize up in your chest; the idea of the creature somehow understanding what you were saying causing you to panic and double back, wondering if your thoughts were safe with the little cat.

But the comfort the cat brought was something that couldn’t be matched by the company of your friends and family. It was nice to have someone to just talk to and listen, someone that didn’t reply all the time. Even if that someone wasn’t exactly a human. Even if that someone happened to have some human-like personality traits that left you wondering. Cats were intelligent, though, so you never found yourself questioning it too much.

After some time, you push yourself up into a sitting position from where you lay on your side in the grass, letting out another long sigh. This time, your breath doesn’t even so much as reach the cat. However, your presence shifting causes the small animal to stir, letting out a ‘mrrmph’ and stretching out of the ball it had been curled into, rolling over onto its side. The cat lazily blinks up at you, before licking a paw and swiping it over its face, repeating the action and grooming itself.

“This is why my mom told me not to move away to a small town like this. She called me a romantic for trying to follow my dreams—be a writer, live in a cozy space unknown to the world and basically off the grid.” Instead of sighing, you scoff this time. “Little did she know I’d actually become a romantic and fall in love with someone who doesn’t even know I exist… or maybe she did know. Moms seem to somehow know everything…”

You groan, letting your face fall into your hands. “I can’t believe I spilled that all over him this morning—I don’t even want to go to work tomorrow.”

Before one emotion can even settle, you’re letting out another groan and falling back into the grass again. You hit the ground with a slight thud. Next to you, the cat startles in surprise, but doesn’t move.

“I have to be up for seven… I have to open the shop… ugh I hate opening shifts, that’s too early. We saw what happened today! I didn’t even get enough sleep and then that disaster unfolded!”

From next to you, the cat watches as you work through your turmoil of thoughts and emotions for the third time since coming to the maple tree. Before one can settle, another begins, and so your distraught cycle repeats itself yet again. The cat had already heard the story, about how you’d gotten next to no sleep last night—finally finding a strike of muse and mistakenly staying up until almost four in the morning to write the wave out—and had to open the coffee shop at which you work at seven on the dot that same morning. Your crush, the one and only Lee Juyeon—a noteworthy bachelor in town whose presence wasn’t very welcomed, though his looks were practically revered—had entered the shop. Amidst your foggy, sleep-deprived state, you’d clumsily perfected his order, then proceeded to spill it down the front of his clothes.

It was a minor mishap. It wasn’t something that happened often, but it wasn’t something that one should trouble themselves over this much. Although, of course, one had to consider the fact that Juyeon being dashingly handsome, with strong features and a soft smile; as well as being your crush, were added factors that had to be considered in the equation.

The cat still found it ridiculous, as cats often do of human matters.

You push yourself into a sitting position again, with a bit more determination in your shoulders this time. The cat barely pauses its grooming session as you turn to address it, despite not needing to. “I need to go. I need to get some sleep before work tomorrow.”

Despite knowing that the outcome will be futile, you reach out slowly and attempt to stroke the cat with the back of your hand, as a final goodbye before the two of you meet again. But this time, the cat reacts to your proximity—instantaneously cutting its grooming session short by jumping to its feet and away from you. The feline cuts you a look, giving itself a shake, before it trots off.

It had been two weeks now, so you had been hopeful something had changed between you and the cat. But, cats were fickle creatures, and although your feline friend proved to be a good confidant and equally welcomed your silent company—that’s all it wanted at the moment, was some company. A part of you wondered if something kept the cat from being friendlier, even after you’d proven you weren’t going to push or rush any affection received, such as a trauma or unpleasant experience. You weren’t too certain that was the case, though, considering the cat wasn’t wary or scared—just indifferent.

“Get home safe,” is your last goodbye to the cat, spoken into the emptiness around you which is only broken up by the evening breeze whistling through the autumn leaves.

—

Thankfully, you get enough sleep that night. When you get home, the tiredness hits you like a giant wave, and there’s not even an ounce of temptation to continue your writing as there had been the night before. When the next day arrives, you’re much more bright-eyed and alert. Opening the coffee shop goes smooth, as does the passing of the first few customers you have.

After the first hour of being open, like clockwork, Juyeon walks through the door of the little cafe at eight. And, like clockwork, your coworker lets out a grunt under their breath and nudges you with their elbow.

“Can you take over the cash register?”

You frown, studying them, then glancing back at Juyeon as he slowly nears the counter. A few guests cut him unfriendly looks, others stare in awe. You should be used to this, by now, but you aren’t. Growing up in the city, you hadn’t realized what kind of bias there would be in smaller, more rural areas for Juyeon’s kind—as those around here called it. He practiced magic, which in the city was a common occurrence. Being so populated, it was easy to pass someone by and not really know whether they were a witch or a warlock. They were just simply human.

But here, it was like some sort of blight. Where witches and warlocks were far and few between, it was misunderstood, and thus not welcomed. People didn’t like change, or that which they didn’t understand.

If only people could be more like cats—indifferent to those things that surrounded them which caused no harm, despite how different it might be.

Your coworker hadn’t waited for your answer, disappearing, and you have no choice but to take over the cash register. Despite the repeated normalcy of this specific situation, it’s still something you really don’t think you’ll ever get used to.

Juyeon stops in front of the counter and studies the menu above, just as you step forward and wish him a good morning. He glances down at you, gives a small smile, and then glances back up at the menu. He’s been here enough times since you’d moved to town that you know he’ll order the same thing he gets every day. For some reason, though, he still likes to idle a bit and study the menu. Maybe because there’s seasonal flavors to consider trying, despite always defaulting to the comfort pick. Or maybe he’s buffering his mind for the day—a sentiment you felt you could relate to.

“Can I get my usual?” Juyeon asks, pulling his eyes away from the menu with another smile.

You return his smile, nodding. “Of course.”

Although you try to stay calm, you can hear your heart beating much too loudly in your chest, replaying the events from the day before in your head. You try not to outwardly cringe as the scene from yesterday replays itself in your mind; then try further to shut the memories out, though not visibly show your internal struggle—choosing to focus instead on the fact that despite not being weary-eyed that morning, your hand is shaking as you lift it to the register to punch in Juyeon’s order, and you need to make it stop.

It’s something that doesn’t go unnoticed by the regular customer, though you aren’t aware that he even does notice until you’re serving him his coffee. Your coworker has conveniently cooped themselves up in the back to clean and stock. That leaves you left alone to prepare Juyeon’s drink, and you’re grateful there isn’t a rush at that moment.

When you step up to the counter to call out his name and hand over the drink, you’re straining your arm to keep your hand from shaking too badly—paranoid over a repeat from yesterday. As he takes his drink with a smile and a thank you, his fingers brush over yours. You glance up in surprise at him, wondering if he even noticed the skin contact.

Meeting his gaze, you’re aware that he is, in fact, aware of what has happened. He softens his smile—if that’s even possible. His sharp features are always the softest when he comes in during the mornings and hands out smiles to the people around him. Despite the stark contrast of how the townsfolk treat Juyeon in comparison to how he treats them, you’ve never once seen the smile on his face falter.

“You don’t have to be nervous about yesterday,” he states kindly. “Accidents happen. Stop shaking so badly out of nerves, or you’ll really end up spilling my coffee again.”

A flush immediately over takes your face, and you pull your hand back like the snap of a rubber band—luckily Juyeon already has hold of his drink, or it would have come crashing down to the counter below.

“S-s-s-sorry— I didn’t mean—”

“It’s fine, I’m only joking. Like I said, accidents happen, and clothes can be washed,” Juyeon chuckles. You swear the sound makes your heart seize up in your chest—but it’s a different kind of seize than the feeling your secret cat makes you feel. This feeling is one that makes time seem to stop moving itself; his soft laugh something akin to a toll bell—not quite high pitched enough to be a bell, but not deep enough to be something else.

“Although if you spilled drink on me two days in a row, I’d probably need you to join me for coffee at some point in order to make up for all the dry cleaning,” the joke falls from Juyeon’s lips with ease—and you can only stare at him in surprise as he offers you one last smile and makes his way to a corner of the coffee shop near the window, as he does every day.

Did… he just flirt?

You shake your head at the absurdity of the thought, though the rest of your work day is spent in a trance. Even when there is a callout halfway through your shift, just a few hours away before your freedom from work—you barely react. It’s just a hiccup, even if it means you’ll be working five hours extra. Juyeon’s words idly trail through your mind, enough to keep you in a daze. Luckily, despite your mind being focused elsewhere, nothing is spilled or broken that day and you make it through the shift safely; save for a few moments of tripping over your own two feet.

When closing time rolls around, you finally start to feel all the work of the day and your clumsiness in those same two feet. You’re practically dragging yourself over the threshold when you close up the coffee shop, locking the door behind you. When you turn to begin down the street for home and the comfort of your warm bed—you almost trip over your own two feet yet again.

Except, this time, it’s not by your own fault that you almost trip. Underfoot, the darkness of the night moves just as you stumble to catch yourself, and you startle in surprise. But then, a familiar pair of amber eyes turn and meet yours—and as your eyes adjust to the blackness, you recognize the outline of a little black cat.

“Kitty?” You wonder, surprise lacing your voice. The cat, as if replying, lets out something akin to a meow and an indignant sigh, as if to ask, How dare you trip over me?

The indignant meow-sigh-huff combo makes you smile, letting out a small laugh under your breath. Yes, it’s definitely your cat friend. But why is the cat so far from the fields at the outskirts of town, away from the maple tree? How did it wander so far? You’d always assumed the cat to be a farm cat, since you’d never seen it among the streets like this—which had you worry the feline may have wandered too far from home to find its way back. At night, nonetheless.

Crouching down, you reach out a hand to the cat, back of your hand facing the feline. “What are you doing all the way in town like this, kitty?”

As per usual, the cat backs away from your hand with a little jump, before scurrying off into the night. You let out a sigh, watching it meld with the shadows, before pushing yourself back to your feet.

“Okay, fine. I thought we were friends, but whatever. Just try and assist me in breaking my neck and then leave the scene of the almost-crime.” You give your head a shake, before turning away from the coffee shop and making your way home.

The evening is colder than it has been in the past few nights. As you walk, you snuggle down a little deeper into your coat, surprised by the chill. It’s sharp enough to cut against more sensitive places of your body—like your nose, ears, and cheeks—but not quite deeply cutting in the way that the cold of winter is. This chill doesn’t seep into the depths of your bones and create an ache. It’s just cold enough to make you want to curl up on your couch with a cup of warm tea before bed, but still admire how there’s a warmth to the season overall despite the weather.

It doesn’t take long before a black flash cuts across in front of you. You slow your steps slightly, having set a brisk pace to simply get yourself home quicker, so you weren’t out at night for too long. Your shadowy friend darting back and forth is enough to keep you from walking too fast, though, worried you might trip and fall, and ultimately hurt yourself or the cat. But as you pick your pace up again, the black feline settles into a trot alongside you, weaving close to the walls of the buildings which you walk next to.

“Are you walking me home?” You muse to the cat. “Feel guilty for almost tripping me in the dark?”

You know the cat can’t understand your humor, and likely doesn’t have a conscience enough to feel guilty about such a thing, but it feels nice to talk to someone as you walk. Again—you seek comfort in the feline companion for the fact that you can voice your thoughts aloud, without expecting a reply. It’s also nice to have company on your walk home. Despite the small town being safe, and the streetlamps lighting the way, walking alone at night was an uncomfortable event. Having grown up in the city, you’d been taught to never wander the streets alone at night. It was strange to do so here.

“Lee Juyeon, the warlock that I’ve told you about, came in to work again today. I didn’t spill his order all over him today,” you smile, glancing at the little black shadow that meanders next to you. “You should be proud of me.”

Slowing your pace, you come to a halt. “Do you ever wonder why people treat him differently?” You ask the cat. For a moment, you think, before sighing, “Wait, you probably don’t even know. You’re a cat, after all. How would you realize that he’s being treated differently just because he can practice magic. Heck, you probably don’t even know who Juyeon is.”

Or, maybe the cat did, considering you’d seen Juyeon feed the neighborhood strays outside the coffee shop before.

The thought has you pulling your eyes back to your cat companion. Ahead of you, the animal pulls itself away from the wall and sidles its way into the center of the street. It keeps walking, which prompts you to resume your pace in order to catch up to the cat.

“Anyway, he does magic. A warlock. In the city, witches and warlocks are common. Magic is a lot more accepted where I come from, even though there are rules and restrictions to practicing in order to keep non-magic users safe. Maybe that’s why rural areas and small towns don’t like it, there’s no one to really keep watch and create rules,” you sigh, then wonder why the heck you’re explaining this to a cat. “But still, he’s just simply a human. My coworker doesn’t even want to breathe the same air as him. Isn’t that ridiculous…?”

Much like you do under the maple tree, you ramble to the cat as though it were any other day. It feels kind of nice to have the cat’s company and be able to walk home with someone, even if that someone weren’t quite human. Though you might appear strange to anyone else who might see you chatting into the darkness, you aren’t alone that night—a comfort which you appreciate not only because it’s dark, but also after such a long and grueling day. It allows you to keep your mind away from the dreadful thoughts you might have. Talking to the cat had also become a routine, and though you hadn’t been able to dwell much on the idea of missing out on the almost-daily routine thanks to how busy the coffee shop had gotten in the afternoon, you realize now what it means.

As you near the corner of your street, the cat slows down just ahead of you, sensing a change in your demeanor. Your stomach growls just as you’re about to round the corner the cat is stopped at, causing you to glance down in surprise. Then, you glance at the feline, before lifting your gaze up to glance over your shoulder. Just across the street, lighting up the entire corner—something you’d always been grateful for, living alone—sits a little 24-Hour corner shop. You have food at home that you can heat up quickly, but you remember that your cat friend has wandered into town from the farms, and possibly hasn’t eaten. There’s probably an abundance of mice to catch, if the cat were to look well enough, but you feel guilty after realizing how far the animal had followed you.

And, unfortunately, it wasn’t likely with your current track record that the cat would want to join you inside for the night.

“Wait here,” you instruct the cat, not even sure if it’ll listen. You dart across the street and push your way into the warmth of the little corner shop. The attendant startles in surprise at your entrance, having not expected a customer so late on a fairly chilly night, most likely.

“Do you have cat food?” You ask, and the bleary-eyed boy behind the counter points off in a corner of the shop. You follow his direction to the aisle he points out, wandering down and eyeing the shelves lined with canned and bagged food and treats for all different kinds of pets. You pick out a can of shrimp flavored canned food, remembering that the cat you’d grown up with at home had enjoyed shrimp-flavored things, before heading back to the front of the store to pay for it.

Surprisingly enough, the black cat is there waiting for you as you exit the store—still across the street. You smile, as you near, watching as the cat’s tail tip flicks where it's curled on the ground, rustling a leaf just within reach. Each time its tail does so, causing the leaf to move, the silly little cat swipes at the leaf—and its own tail. And each time, the cat looks offended as it pulls its paw back.

“I have food,” you announce your presence to the cat, so as not to startle it too much out of its little game. As you near, you pull open the can lid, bending down and setting the can on the ground. Knowing the cat will run if you extend your hand, you slowly inch the can forward with your finger tips, watching as the cat slowly inches itself back on its butt in surprise. When your hand returns to yourself, the cat stares at the opened can of food, before bending over just enough to strain its neck to reach out and sniff.

With a sharp flick of its tail, it huffs and turns, trotting off into the darkness.

Your jaw falls open in surprise. “Wow! Rude! That was two dollars!”

Frowning, you glance back at the can of food, then up again where the cat disappeared into the night. Either the cat was extremely spoiled and wasn’t actually a farm cat as you’d thought, feasting on mice—or the animal just wasn’t hungry. Somehow you doubted the latter, as it seemed like quite a journey from the edge of town to your place for a little four-legged creature. Surely any animal would be just a bit hungry after wandering around for hours, right?

Straightening yourself up, you call out into the darkness, “I’m leaving this here, then—in case you change your mind!” But your words are met with silence, and there isn’t even the breeze of the autumn wind whistling through the trees to fill the void of the night.

Parting ways with the darkness and its feline voidling, you finally round the corner and head the last few feet up the street to the warmth of your home.

—

When you wake the next morning, there’s not an immediate rush through your morning. You don’t work until a bit later in the afternoon. This means you’re able to sleep in, enjoy the warmth and comfort of your bed and burrow yourself further down under the duvet as the morning light streams through the curtains, casting even more warmth over you as it filters through the glass window. When it comes time to finally pull yourself out of bed, you shower and brush your teeth, brew a pot of coffee for yourself, and set to work at your laptop for a couple hours to get some writing out.

It’s at this time that a repeated rapping catches your attention, and when you glance up from your laptop—pulling your eyes away from the white light of the screen and squinting—you’re surprised to see a black shadow at your window, two amber eyes peering through a frame of the glass intently.

“What the—? Kitty?”

Hearing your voice, the cat stands up from crouching on the sill, butting its body against the window and letting out a loud meow. You’re fairly certain this is the first time the cat has answered you in such a blatantly obvious tone, which has you excitedly pushing yourself to your feet and rushing over to the window. In the entire time it takes you to cross your bedroom to the window, the cat continues to meow, pacing back and forth along the sill and butting itself against the glass. The cat’s tail curls, waving about languidly.

“Good morning,” you greet, pulling the window up and open for your friend. “What are you doing here? Did you sleep outside on the street last night?”

With more room on the window sill, the cat sits, pointedly fixating its gaze on you. Curiously, you present the back of your hand to the cat, holding it up between the two of you. This is the closest you’ve ever been to the creature, but that doesn’t mean you’re quite out of the woods just yet.

It takes everything within you, though, to hold back the gasp of surprise when the cat leans forward just a bit to sniff you, cold nose pressing against the back of your hand and whiskers grazing across your skin.

“Can I pet you?” You wonder, turning your hand over slowly and reaching behind the cat—but, as fickle as ever, the cat lets out another meow and turns before you can even so much as put your hand onto its fur, dropping down from the window sill. The most touch you get from the interaction is its tail swiping your arm as it turns and jumps down—which, honestly, still leaves you grinning after the cat.

“Wait there again,” you instruct the cat, closing the window. Not waiting for an answer from the feline, who seems a bit chatty that morning, you make your way out of your bedroom—pausing momentarily to grab your coffee mug—before heading to the kitchen. You wonder if the cat is hungry, mentally noting you don’t have cat food, which is why you had bought it last night, before reminding yourself that it didn’t seem to like the canned food anyway.

Fish? No, you’d have to go to the market for that. If you ate fish, you typically cooked it immediately rather than let it sit in your freezer. What else could cats eat? “Chicken…?” You wonder aloud, opening your fridge and eyeing the leftover container of some grilled chicken you’d had the night before.

“It’s a bird, cats like bird meat.” Giving yourself a small shrug, you pull the container from the fridge and open it. It takes a few moments to shred it down to something a bit more manageable to chew with your fingers, before you pop it in the microwave to nuke it a bit. You didn’t mind cold chicken, but assuming the cat had spent the night outside, you figure a little warmth in its belly would be nice.

As though sensing your intentions, when you open the front door, the black cat is sitting expectantly on the porch, staring up at the door. Its tail swipes across the wood deck lazily, seemingly unbothered by having had to wait.

“It’s not much, since I don’t really know what to feed a cat that’s okay and I don’t keep cat food… not that you appreciated it last night…” You scoff, before setting down the container on the porch in front of the cat. “But here’s some breakfast for you. Or brunch now, I suppose.”

This food smells much more interesting than the canned cat food, and the feline doesn’t hesitate to step forward and crouch down in front of the leftover container, immediately gobbling up the grilled chicken you’d shredded. You smile, watching with relief as the animal eats. You really weren’t sure at this point if the cat was a farmcat after all, a stray, or simply a spoiled wanderer—but not knowing where the animal had been overnight, and seeing it eat now after refusing food last night put your mind at ease.

You watch the cat eat in silence, making yourself comfortable and sitting back against the doorframe of your open front door. Every now and again, you sip your coffee, glance up at the street and off into the distance where you can see the rolling hills of the countryside, before looking back down at the cat. When your feline friend finishes its meal, it lays back on your porch, grooming itself in content—then moving off to a warm patch of sun and curling into a ball on your deck. Deciding you don’t want to waste this precious moment, you clean up the container before grabbing your laptop, and setting up shop on the deck for a few more hours before work, writing alongside the silent company of your tiny visitor.

“Okay, I have to go to work,” you announce after a few hours have passed, not entirely sure why you’re detailing this to the cat. If it really was a stray, it would probably remove itself from your company whenever. Or, you’d return home after work to it having disappeared again. The thought made you wistful—maybe even a bit sad. This had been the first you’d ever had the cat’s extended company and attention for, and you were growing quite used to it.

To your surprise, when it actually is time to leave for work, the cat begins to follow you after you’ve closed and locked up your little house. You let out an amused half smile, watching as the cat follows alongside you. “What, are you my chauffeur now?”

The walk to work that day is infinitely more amusing than all the other times you’d walked the same path. You don’t have much to ramble to your companion about that day, though you do mention that you wonder if Juyeon will pop in at the coffee shop in the afternoon. Typically, he was a morning coffee person, but you’d seen him stop by in the evenings once in a while. Instead of talking as you walk, though, you watch as the cat darts ahead of you every once in a while—chasing a stray leaf on the breeze and pouncing after it down the street until it lies motionless on the ground. Sometimes, the cat lags behind, and you find yourself glancing over your shoulder to see what curiosities it's getting itself into—jumping on a fence to tease a dog, sniffing around at certain things on the path, or slinking down close to the ground and acting as if it’s hunting nothing in particular, before darting ten feet ahead of you at a run and waiting for you to catch up.

“Don’t stay out here for too long tonight,” you warn the cat, pausing outside the coffee shop. “This street gets busy on weekends, someone might not see you…” You didn’t want to imagine the poor cat getting lost in the crowd. The coffee shop was in the center of a small village shopping square, and on weekend evenings it filled up with families and others sharing date nights and evening events together. You frown, wondering if the cat will listen, before giving the animal a small little wave and heading inside.

When you set to work, you can’t help but find yourself glancing out the window periodically—taking mental stock of the cat through your shift. Each time you go to clean a table, you peer out the window and see the cat either peering right back in at your, or napping somewhere nearby. Every time you call out someone’s order, you push yourself onto your tiptoes to glance over the customer’s shoulder as they near, mentally noting every spot the little black shape outside moves to. If a new customer enters the shop, you greet them and take their order, and before the transaction finishes you ask in a quiet voice if there’s a cat outside still—relieved when a customer confirms they’d seen one lounging about.

Halfway through your shift, your cat friend disappears from the view of the window, and a small panic sets in. You notice as you’re taking an order for a couple of guests, two people who can’t seem to settle on their decision and keep talking over each other as they tell you what they want. They aren’t the type of people to inquire about the cat outside, especially since it seems as though they’ve popped into the coffee shop for an afternoon pick-me-up to help settle some of their irritation. Yet as you speak with them, and punch in their order, you can’t help your eyes darting off to the side now and again to try and peek around them and out the window.

“Can you take over the register for a bit?” You ask of your coworker almost as soon as the two chatty, indecisive guests walk away. You don’t wait for them to reply—considering they always drop the same on you without warning. It’s rare of you to return the “favor,” but you don’t feel guilty doing so.

As you move around the counter, you grab a tray and a cleaning rag in order to clean some tables, eyes never leaving the window as you do so.

“Was that your cat? The one outside?” Your coworker asks, scoffing. “Should take better care of it.”

You scowl, eyes snapping back to your coworker, who shrinks in surprise at the ferocity of your gaze. “No it’s not. It’s a stray that followed me, and I’m worried.” As you turn away from them, you grumble under your breath, “You have a nasty habit of assuming the worst of people.”

As you near the window, searching for the black furry shadow outside, your eyes are so fixated you barely register the door of the shop opening and the lackluster greeting being called out by your coworker. In fact, you’re so out of it that, as you move, you practically stumble straight into a wall of body that had just entered the shop. You stumble back in surprise, realizing that you’ve almost walked straight into a customer, glancing up to apologize—and blanching when you realize it’s Juyeon.

“S-sorry!”

Juyeon smiles in greeting. “It’s fine,” he answers, before glancing over his shoulder outside, then back down at you. “Are you okay?”

“I— yeah… I just—” You frown. “Nevermind, it’s nothing. What can I get for you today?” Sparing one last glance at the window, you move back toward the counter, eyeing your coworker as they move away and disappear, refusing as always to take the young warlock’s order.

“Can I sit at the bartop today?” Juyeon asks, trailing after you. You glance over your shoulder at him in surprise, before nodding.

“Let me take your order and then you can take a seat.”

“I’d like a mochachino today.”

You punch in the order, looking at him in surprise. “Chocolate?”

Juyeon smiles that soft smile that always seems to leave you winded and out of breath. “Craving something sweet, but I’ve got some work to do, so I need something that will keep me awake, too.”

You nod, letting out a hum of understanding from the back of your throat. When you read the total off to him, Juyeon pays the appropriate amount, and you wave him to the bartop just to the left of the cash register. His presence at the bartop is almost certain to keep your coworker from ever returning to the front of house, so you silently hope that no sudden rush comes through the cafe as you set to work making his drink.

“Why did you seem so distracted when I came in earlier?” Juyeon asks, tone of voice idle. You glance over your shoulder, away from the espresso machine, in surprise when he speaks. Had he always been this chatty? Although, to be fair, Juyeon always came in during the morning rushes and you never had a chance to actually talk to him.

You aren’t sure what really catches you by surprise—the fact that he’s making conversation with you, or the fact that his deep voice has caused your heart to begin a rapid and stuttering beat in your chest. Yet, somehow, despite your nervousness to be talking to a young man you’d always admired from your own little corner of the coffee shop, and how he gazed out the window and watched the world in silent content and admiration, and offered up sweet and soft smiles to everyone around him—his voice also fills you with a warmth that’s almost soothing. Like the familiar smell of the coffee grounds that waft through the shop daily, then later cling to the strands of your hair when you get home. It feels familiar.

“Are you really okay?” He asks, prompting again.

“I’m fine. I was just worried… there was a cat outside. It followed me to and from work yesterday and today, and now that it’s getting busy I’m wondering where it went off to and if it’s okay. I feel responsible even though it might be a stray that just followed me for its own amusement,” you explain as you work.

When you finish Juyeon’s order, you turn and set it on the counter in front of him. He smiles, as always, and takes it with a polite and soft thank you, before leveling you with his gaze.

When his eyes land on you, almost instantly you feel your heart seize up in your chest. You’ve never been this close to Juyeon before—never actually gotten a good look at him up close. His features from afar are stunning; he’s handsome in a very simple way that’s easy on the eyes. But up close, it’s almost as if he’s crafted from marble. You’ve never had a chance to admire his sharp features; study the lines of his jaw and his high-placed cheekbones, notice the square shape of his earlobes, or admire his long and straight nose or the way his lips curl upward slightly at the corners.

“Cats are street smart, you know. I’m sure your little stray friend is fine. They probably know these streets better than the both of us,” Juyeon replies, “And luckily for them, people in this town are a little kinder to stray cats than other types of strays.”

It’s then that you meet his gaze, catching on to a deeper implication of his words—studying his almond-shaped brown eyes and taking note of the curious amber flecks that hit the warm yellow light of the cafe just right.

“No way,” you breathe out.

Juyeon smiles—and this time, his smile isn’t the usual soft and kind one, but one that pushes his cheeks up in a way that causes his eyes to smile along with the rest of his face. He seems much too amused by the realization setting across your face, followed by a flush that follows soon after. You’d ranted and rambled about Lee Juyeon to Lee Juyeon—albeit not the human one.

You’d heard that some witches and warlocks could shapeshift, and that others had familiars. Never once in your life did you think you’d somehow be on the receiving end of that gift. Of course, it made sense, considering the treatment around town that Juyeon often received—that he’d either hide in another form or test the honesty of those he interacted with in a different form.

Juyeon lifts his coffee cup to his lips, smiling over the rim. “Can I walk you home tonight? Perhaps this time not as a cat? I’d love to hear you regale one of your lavish tales of me.”

#juyeon fic #juyeon fanfic #the boyz fic #the boyz fanfic #juyeon #the boyz #tbz fanfic #m.writes

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ivyisms · 4 years ago

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- ̗̀ NOW INTRODUCING: IVES ❝ IVY ❞ SERRANO !

( DANNA PAOLA, 24, CISFEMALE ) I just bumped into IVES "IVY" SERRANO the other day while walking down NORTH Kingsboro, where SHE lives. I hear they can be SEDUCTIVE and MANIPULATIVE, but when I think of them I immediately think about ROSE PETAL BLUNTS, STRAWBERRY CHAMPAGNE, AND SIX INCH STILETTOS.

hi hello it’s tay back again w another one of my demon spawn muses !! apparently chaotic bisexuals w fcs from elite is just my brand™️ but anyway ivy is probably my favorite oc i’ve ever made so i have A Lot to say abt this messy bitch !! if u go H E R E i have a very long stats/bio page with pretty much everything i could think of BUT i will try to summarize the main points semi-concisely

- ̗̀♡ — › background !

the main thing u need to know about ivy is that she is lying ! always !! her real name isn’t even actually ivy smh

she was born natalie rose serrano, to two working class parents in new york city. she knew from a young age that she was just supposed to be rich and famous, and that something had gotten mixed up somewhere and she was put in the wrong life.

in high school she got a scholarship to a fancy private catholic school, and that’s where she started to hone her craft of manipulating rich people. she would befriend all of the richest bitches at school and take advantage of everything that came along with it: vacations to far away places, stays in the family’s cabins and lake houses, even designer clothes that her friends no longer wanted and would gift to her, thinking it was their idea all along

as she grew up and got better at getting what she wanted out of people, her entitled attitude only got worse, driving a wedge between her and her parents, who kept waiting for her to develop a work ethic and kept being disappointed. a few months after she graduated high school, on her 18th birthday, her parents kicked her out of the house and cut her off, hoping that it would force her to grow up and take on any responsibility

but that plan backfired for them, her parents underestimating how truly stubborn natalie was. the day after her 18th, she wandered into a local strip club and got a job, figuring it’d be the easiest and quickest way to get some cash, and she took to it naturally and actually really enjoyed stripping

she started to embody an entirely new persona that she had created for herself, dancing under the name poison ivy and telling everyone she was a trust fund baby that had been cut off from her rich parents, needing to dance to supplement her income, and her lies just continued to spiral out of control until she almost started to believe it herself. she had never told anyone at the club her real name, not even the other strippers, just going by “ivy” for a while.

she had learned to weaponize the power she had over people by being pretty and charming, using her looks for absolute evil and doing whatever it took to get money—from straight up pickpocketing, to making men buy her expensive gifts, to blackmailing, to sugar babying, to getting patrons wasted and manipulating them into tipping her absurd amounts... she did it all, very quickly earning enough to live the life she had always dreamed of, that she felt she deserved for whatever twisted reason.

she started posting on instagram with the name poison ivy generally just flaunting her carefree, extravagant life, often exaggerating or down right lying just to really dazzle her quickly growing audience

as she started to go down the influencer route, she realized she needed to do something to hide the skeletons in her closet ( the fact that she didn’t actually come from money and was making far more than was normal for even the best of dancers, a couple of small possession / shoplifting charges, and just generally anything that could lead people to her real identity ) so she started to tell people her name was ives, fully taking on the new identity. she even went so far as to make some of the people that had been closest to her sign NDAs about her real identity, making sure that no one could sell info about her should her plan of being famous work out

and it did work out !! at first she was definitely buying followers/likes to boost her likelihood of brand sponsorships, but eventually she faked it until she made it and actually attained influencer status

she also started sleeping around with pretty much any famous person she could, having very public relationships and breakups and scandals to keep her name in the press, which ultimately lead to more exposure/people following her, if only to see what she did next, which lead to even more sponsorships

she’s probably been in kingsboro for a few years, living in a super fancy one bedroom apartment that she definitley doesn’t pay for ( she doesn’t even know how much her rent is tbh )

eventually she stopped dancing and just focused on her influencing or whatever, but she never stopped sugar babying and scamming rich stupid men, still very much using that as a means to keep up her lifestyle. she’s also done a few modeling things, but it’s mostly just like catalog work or being the face of a trendy campaign bc she’s way too short for the runway

she also recently made an only fans account bc she was bored one night and was mostly planning on posting once as a joke but then she made a bunch of money / got a bunch of subscribers and was like oh word ? i can do that ! so she will post on there from time to time but she’s not like... super serious about it ya know ?

so basically she’s jus here making money being pretty and pulling a long ass scam on... everyone

- ̗̀♡ — › personality !

she’s a real two faced bitch... she has perfected the art of becoming whoever she thinks other people want her to be, quickly adapting her personality to get whatever she wants

she’s usually pretty friendly actually, really charming and outgoing and just trying to have a good time

she has a pretty short temper tho and holds grudges like you wouldn’t believe, so once you’re on her bad side... good luck lol she is so ruthless

she’s like... deeply, deeply selfish and will always put herself first, but she’s so manipulative that she can make people do things that they think are their idea, but it’s really just something she planted in their head so it’s not always obvious

also very spoiled and will throw a mf fit if she doesn’t get her way or u say no to her

always going out !! always doing the most !! she’s the type to show up randomly at ur door at 8pm on a tuesday with a bottle of tequila and make u party with her whether u like it or not

she’s a lot smarter than she lets on sometimes, like she knows people expect her to be stupid and ditzy and shallow and she’ll let them underestimate her when it’s beneficial

always looks perfectly put together— her nails are always meticulously manicured, usually w stiletto shaped acrylics, and you’ll literally never see her outside her house without makeup and a perfectly composed outfit. it’s also a rare occasion that she’s not wearing at least six inch heels, trying to make up for bein so mf short ( she’s 5’3 )

she talks A Lot but is really good at saying a lot of words without actually saying anything, like you can be best friends with her for months and then just be like “i don’t actually know a single thing about her”

always up to no good and sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong !! she’s always got some sort of scheme going or getting in to some kind of drama

v much a hoe and v much proud of it, will sleep w just about anyone especially if she can get something out of it

also a serial dater !! she’s always hoping in and out of relationships and being rumored to be with a dozen people at once

most definitely calls paparazzi on herself, especially when she’s around other famous ppl but will never admit it

compulsive liar, she will literally lie about the dumbest things like she doesn’t even need a reason to lie she jus.. does

- ̗̀♡ — › wanted connections !

hookups / flings / one night stands / fwbs all that shit !!

exes on bad terms ... gimme drama pls

enemies / ppl she’s stolen from maybe... she would definitely deny it and say they’re jus jealous of her or smth stupid but that could make the feud worse

party pals !! like i said she goes out a lot and always somehow manages to make new friends and drag them into her shenanigans

on again / off again exes... i want the Angst so bad..

unlikely friends !! like ppl who are nice and sweet and Pure, she could use a lil good energy in her life

neighbors ... mb they hate her for always being loud n throwing mini parties OR maybe they join in

mean girl rivalries !!

someone she’s taking advantage of / stealing from without them knowing .. oof

partner in crime !!!

one sided crushes or like someone she’s stringing along smh

sugar daddies mb 😇

someone to put her in her mf place JDKDKD like they call her out on her bs and are like “i see what ur doing bitch stay away from my friends” type thing

idk anything really !! gimme all the messy plots ok :~)

#kingsboro.intro

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mutantsrisingrpg · 5 years ago

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Congratulations DYLAN! You’ve been accepted as NEPTUNE.

Dylan, I was so excited to see you apply for a second character and even more excited to see you apply for Neptune! The cosmic metaphor that you weaved throughout the entire app is something that I absolutely loved. Making Avery be the second born and comparing it to leftover cosmic energy had me howling! I also loved that you wrote about how special twins are when it comes to mutants - their powers being the yin to the others yang was especially something that stood out to me. I’m so, so excited to see you bring Avery to life!

Welcome to Mutants Rising! Please read the checklist and submit your account within 24 hours.

Out of Character Information:

NAME/ALIAS: Dylan

PRONOUNS: He/Him

AGE: 22

TIMEZONE & ACTIVITY LEVEL: GMT. 6/7 Days

In Character Information:

DESIRED ROLE: Avery O’Brien aka Neptune

GENDER/PRONOUNS: Male, He/Him

DETAILS & ANALYSIS:

Avery can take you by surprise. At first you might just see this edgy kid walking down the street, fists clenched and ready to throw them at the first person to give them a skew look. With a packet of Marlboro in his back pocket and tongue primed with his general response, ‘fuck off’, you just simply wouldn’t expect Megan the Stallion to be blasting through his earphones as he walked.

Sure, Avery definitely knew how to get himself into trouble and he had picked up a few bad habits along the way but Avery would probably be the kindest and most loyal friend you could make. He’d often babysit his neighbors kids and he genuinely enjoyed it. His aesthetic was mostly a facade, tough and ready to rumble when he’d definitely prefer to avoid a fight if possible.

He might be young, but don’t underestimate him. He’s been on the street long enough to know how things work and life has definitely taught him how to look out for himself and his sister. He’s pulled off countless jobs since their parents kicked them out and has managed to keep his hands as clean as they could be. So what gives Avery the edge? He’s cunning and smart, he knows how to work angles and get what he wants, one way or another.

As for Avery’s powers, he doesn’t really understand them, and nor does the rest of the world, to be honest. He’s read multiple essays and watched countless videos on dark matter and energy and what that meant exactly. When he uses his powers, it’s as if he can feel each individual molecule of something, measuring up its mass. He can then change how gravity affects the object, making it ‘heavier’ or ‘lighter’. He’s also experimented with dark energy blasts which seem to be an invisible force that pushes everything out of its way and constantly expands if he doesn’t control it. Honestly, his powers frighten him, as does the unknown to all humans. What really gets to him is that if Dark Energy is what causes the universe to keep expanding, should he really be playing around with that shit?

BIO:

TW: Homophobia

Penelope was born first and then Avery, like the leftover cosmic energy when a star is born. The two were inseparable and doing so would bring about the same results as splitting an atom, metaphorically. As they grew older, they spaced apart but were still always in each other’s orbits, one revolving their life around the other and visa versa. As far as Avery could remember, his early childhood was a good one, or maybe he was just far too young to really see how his family life really was. He went to school, worked hard and would come home only to spend the rest of his free time with Penelope.

As he got older, Avery was always testing his boundaries. How far could he push his luck with his parents, peers, teachers, and even law enforcement. He hung around with the wrong crowd and got pulled into things he never originally wanted to do. It was nothing serious until he was involved in the destruction of a school bus. Nobody could explain how the bus had been crushed nor who had been involved. It happened just after summer break, Avery and a group of his friends had snuck onto school campus that night just to mess around and smoke some weed. Avery was mainly there for Mitch Evans, Avery’s love interest at the time.

The night progressed and the group ended up hanging out in a school bus. The group whittled down to just 4 kids when Avery finally gained the courage to make a move on Mitch. He had tried to kiss the other and Mitch’s reaction was violent and resulted in Mitch punching Avery in the face and shoving him out of the bus. The flurry of embarrassment and heartbreak felt as if it was crushing his soul and before he knew it, the bus started to creak as the metal began to indent. The group inside had mostly been able to get out untouched, everyone except Mitch, who’s leg got stuck under a chair whilst the bus was imploding. After managing to free Mitch from the bus and getting him to the nearest hospital, the group vowed never to mention what had happened out of fear that whatever crushed the bus would follow them. Little did they know that Avery was the one that had crushed the bus and the only other person to ever know this would be Penelope. That was also the last time that Avery ever spoke to Mitch Evans.

That was just the beginning of weird events that would follow the O’Brien twins. Their father seemed to end every day with a bottle of whiskey and their mother seemed to become more unhinged every day. Avery pushed through, working hard at school, knowing that getting into college would be his escape. Having Penelope was also a blessing, having someone he could trust and open up too was a privilege he knew not many had.

Half-way through high school was when it all changed. Their parents had officially rejected them and kicked them out of the house. They had nowhere to go and started crashing on their friend’s couches. Soon Avery was given the opportunity to work a job with one of his friend’s older brothers and he took it. They robbed a yacht and got away with a bag full of expensive jewelry and cash from the on-board bar. It took a couple of weeks before the money was laundered, but Avery got his cut and a reputation. He was asked to do a couple of more jobs and started learning the ropes. It was his senior year when he pulled off his own job. He put most of his money into a savings account to buy a place for him and his sister. He finished school and was given a bursary to study engineering at a local college.

Now, at the age of 24 he is still studying engineering and lives in a decent apartment with his sister. He also works as an intern at a local high-end engineering firm that specialises in space technology. At night he works as a bartender which is mostly a cover and is where he gets approached by most of his clients to pull off jobs for them for a percentage of the cut. There’s been a change in the winds recently though and whispers of new and powerful mutant gangs coming to Miami has him watching his back.

His life is extremely busy so he’s constantly living in the now. If you stopped him and asked him what his goals were, he’d default to saying something about making sure that Penelope is safe, not that she needs his protection, but he barely thinks about what he wants these days. That’s why everyone in his life that has a ‘more than friends’ status seems to come and go, Avery doesn’t think about what he wants and always puts others first before himself, stretching himself as thinly as possible which often leaves his partners feeling neglected or toyed with.

EXPANDED CONNECTIONS:

Penelope O’Brien. It’s said that twins have some sort of special connection, and if that were true for humans, it was definitely true for mutants, especially if their powers were the yin to the other’s yang. Penelope was like the birth of a brand new star whilst Avery was the death of one. They were each other’s best friends from the second they were born. Not only was Penelope always there for him, she was the only one he confided in after the school bus incident. They spent countless nights staying up until sunrise chatting about boys and girls, school, life goals, games and so much more! Penelope was the first person Avery spoke to about his powers and he was so happy that he wasn’t the only twin with ‘gifts’. Being able to support each other was so much easier since they shared a secret. If anything weird would happen they’d race to the other and tell them, learning about each other’s powers together. Penelope wasn’t just his twin sister, they were his best friend too! Considering that Avery struggled to keep love around, this meant a lot to him. He couldn’t imagine what his life would be like without her and that’s why he’d die for her. He’d rather not be alive than live a life without her. This is where Avery’s loyalty turned fierce and where he would definitely cross a line if need be. In a sense, Penelope was Avery’s weakness in more than one way, emotionally and physically. He was sure that if there was anyone that could match his powers it would be Penelope and to what extent, he had no idea and he hoped that he’d never have to find out.

EXTRA:

Oh boy oh boy. I MEAN. What shouldn’t I put here?

I’m thinking that his reputation might get one of the groups to approach him? Maybe more than one group gets him to work for them as a freelancer?

Honestly I’m probably going to make a lot of content for Avery throughout the next week purely because I have so much muse for him, but I also kinda wanted to get this app in and this doesn’t influence decisions so… but here’s a link to the Pinterest board:

https://pin.it/3FkPGew

I might also make a mock-blog? And on there I’ll have graphics and headcanons? IDK. I’ll send it in if I do.

ANYTHING ELSE: Nope! All good! I honestly love this RP so much and I’m waaaaaay too invested for my own good.

#accepted #accepted: neptune

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mor-beck-more-problems · 5 years ago

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An In-Spectre Calls || Cassie and Morgan

Set before the potw. Morgan meets Cassie for the first time and asks for some slightly spooky help.

There was something pathetic about drifting through Eye of Newt alone. Around Morgan teenage witches squealed over crystal balls and bundles of sage, handmade fliers for a Tarot Tuesday covered the table, taper candles of every color stared down their wicks at all the fuss, and so many purple spined books gleamed out from the shelves. It was all so curated, so proud, so...much nicer than the mess of wax and leaves around Morgan’s kitchen table where she made her own wares. Even Vera, Vera, could afford gilt labels for her smudge sticks. Bitch. Worst of all was knowing that few self respecting witches dared to roll the dice here. They had other, better outlets to send for. But Morgan had left a chunk of her self respect somewhere around trying to connect with her ancestors through a three dollar slice of birthday cake. And the shame of all this, re-stocking from her own competition, watching teenagers exercise more freedom and skill with their gel pens than she had bothered to muster lately--settled around her like the heaviest of blankets. At least if she was miserable, she was safe. Probably.

And so Morgan lingered, bitterly taking mental notes on packaging and pining over books she would not be able to afford for another month or more (Vera saw right through any cash she tried to conjure, every time). She had almost tortured herself to the point of boredom when she spotted a familiar face.

Oh. Oh no. Was this some kind of cosmic trick? Was that--the pro bono exorcist girl? The moon was still in Capricorn, so that was in her favor, and Friday was her lucky day, but having an expert fall into her lap, or at least someone else’s storefront, was not the kind of gift that generally came her way. Morgan stopped and stared at the girl more than was socially appropriate.

Fuck it.

Morgan marched up to her, wares still in hand, and leaned over as unobtrusively as she could into her line of sight. She smiled brightly, too mystified at the possibility before her to contain herself. “Hi! This might be a really strange thing to say, but you’re--Cassie, right?” She lowered her voice. “Exorcist Cassie? I hear things around town. And the targeted ads in my mailbox are just--well, anyway, I could really use an expert’s help with summoning something. Someone.”

If you couldn’t make your own grave dust store-bought was probably fine. Wincing at the price tag mark-up compared with the last place Cassie stopped at to stock up she scanned the rows of jars and tinctures for the last couple of ingredients that had been trashed in transit. Fresh out of ash and with no way to make the stuff without either looking like a serial killer or setting the smoke alarm off. Although, on second thought considering the place she was staying, whatever weirdness she brought with her was likely only the sixth strangest thing in that hotel. Speaking of, the four-dollar hole in her pocket was still stinging from shelling out for those Cheerios late last night. Next stop had to be for something that had actually seen the inside of an oven. With that thought in mind she guessed her next stop would be finding someplace to eat some point. The Thai place she passed last night seemed like a good bet.

Like most of its sister stores around the country this place might have been full of wishful thinkers, but maybe there were a couple things that could do in a pinch. Either way she was limited on options and she doubted there’d be anywhere else offering anything any different. Stooping down to read the price tag of a jar of black salt that caught her attention she registered another person in the vicinity. Assuming it was the owner stopping by she straightened up from her crouch by the jars to stand at full height and grabbed up a jar, about to ask if she had anything a little more specific when she registered her name being mentioned followed by the familiar hushed tones, exorcist. That caught her attention as she seemed to peer over at her interestedly. She seemed earnest enough. It was the eagerness that surprised her. Word got around fast, real fast. Anywhere else the whole thing, the whole business really, was a clandestine operation. The routine, ‘Hey thanks for your services, but get out and let’s never speak of this again’ followed by a swift exit was the norm. Not here though. Here it was practically encouraged almost.

“Uh, yeah. That would be me,” she nodded uncertainty, eyeing the store inventory she was holding. “A summoning? You mean to, you know, deal with something?” It was easy to get lost in translation so she tried to follow it with a gesture that she hoped implied giving the boot, “then I can check into it, sure.”

Morgan couldn’t believe her luck. A real exorcist. A real, helpful, exorcist. She bounced on her feet, resisting the urge to clap her hands with excitement. “I thought I recognized your face! And, whew, that would have been really embarrassing otherwise, accosting some poor random person with words like ‘exorcist’ and ‘summoning.’” Was she being funny? The image played hilariously in her mind in a terrible sort of way: the total lack of understanding on the stranger’s face, the painfully awkward attempts at saving face. After so many big setbacks, the reach of this stupid, strupid curse, Morgan found herself hard pressed to believe in lucky breaks or happy cooincidences.

(Did that mean her plan was doomed? Oh god, it might be doomed)

“Oh, but, not like--” she mimicked Cassie’s gesture, growing red and speckled with anxiety. Maybe she should have stayed home and brooded over her hot glue gun situation in quiet isolation instead. Sure, her cat would have still given her judgement eyes from her nest in the bookshelf, but that wouldn’t be half so bad as having this blow up in her face. But like a bad piece of gum on your shoe, Morgan stuck and kept talking.

“I mean, I’ll want them, you know,” She gestured again, “Eventually. But first I want to bring something here. After I’ve gotten the information I need, it should probably go back to wherever, I guess, but I need to get someone first.”

If Morgan had only sensed the ghost judging her from behind, she might have appreciated how funny her request already was, Cassie’s help or not.

Cassie tilted her head a little, “right,” she nodded with a small laugh. “Hell of an icebreaker, right?” She offered. “Either that or they’d just tell you to call in Zak Bagans,” she mock grimaced.

She watched as Morgan repeated the gesture, still trying to wrap her head around the request. Okay, so she did mean summoning something, inviting it. It wasn’t totally unheard of, trying to make contact. Mostly for any lingerers that were already there, but actually folding out the welcome mat? That was still a new one, but she still felt that pang of curiosity that something like that would even work, or why anybody would even want it to.

I need to get someone first.

Looks like you already got them, she mused not unkindly, finally acknowledging the second shadow nearby. Cassie hadn’t made eye contact with the figure lurking in the background until then, but when she did it made her stop in her tracks for a second. They were there alright, but weak. Whoever they were, she couldn’t make anything out past the general humanoid shape and occasional incline of their head as they listened in. Like they were stuck in some halfway point. Weird.

They were here, but they weren’t thrilled about it, but what else was new? Cassie gave them a look that she hoped implied later and turned her attention back to Morgan as she weighed up the options. What were the chances here that whatever she said she was going to do it anyway? Pretty high she was willing to bet. Putting the jar back on the shelf decidedly, “you know what...sure,” she agreed. “I mean mostly I’m there pointing out the exit sign, “she admitted, “but can’t hurt to be around. Let you know if you’re getting warmer”, and to step in in the off chance the invisible man back there had any ideas she added after a second glance.

“Hell of an icebreaker, right?” She offered. “Either that or they’d just tell you to call in Zak Bagans,” she mock grimaced.

“Just ‘little white crest things,’ huh?” Morgan replied with a laugh. “I do promise I’m not like this all the time. Sometimes I say things like how are you, and, I don’t know--what nice, normal weather we’re having!”

This was...nice. Almost fun. Morgan began to sweat behind her ears at the thought Fun was the sort of thing she felt she had to trick her way into. Fun was the kind of feeling that hatched big, wild bursts of ‘come and get me while my back is turned you lousy curse’ energy. And, Christ on a cracker, wasn’t she getting ahead of herself? She was talking with Cassie about what amounted to a work thing, not about making friendship bracelets, or going to the Sadie Hawkins dance. Not exactly the stuff of tragedies, even in her own family tree. Could be safe. And if she had managed to shake certain doom for awhile, and since it was doomed to catch up, maybe she should hold it together and enjoy the reprieve. Pretend to be a less disastrous version of herself until later. Hopefully much later. After they found Agnes.

When Cassie agreed to help, Morgan reigned in the impulse to tackle her with relief. “Thank you, so much! You are amazing, and I will compensate you...somehow. I know conjuring money is pretty high on the questionable morality spectrum, but I can also fix things! If it’s in the broken vase category and not the complicated mechanical one, I can definitely fix it. Or with the right material I can make you something really nice. But, again, not too complicated. I’ve spent more time at the archive than my old alchemy books lately, so. And, drinks, or several, burgers even.” Morgan could feel herself running too fast away from her personal disasters. So fast she almost missed what Cassie added, quietly, as not to set any alarms. Invisible man? What?

It shattered Morgan’s loop of thought and made her go rigid. She cast her gaze back, head-turning slowly. What did Cassie mean? Invisible? Was she being followed? Maybe she had triggered something in the universe and now she was going to watch this blow up in her face before she’d even started. This might be how she died--

Morgan looked. Nothing. Not even a shadow. Then again, that might be the whole point of ‘invisible.’ She turned back to Cassie, suddenly feeling like they needed to get somewhere not in the shop. “Um...what do you mean invisible man?” She whispered. “Like...with some kind of glamour? Or--” It came on her so slowly because until now it had seemed laughably impossible. “Do you mean a GHOST?” She squeaked.

“No kidding,” she laughed, “been here a couple days but this place…it’s something else,” she had to admit. Understatement of the new decade, twenty-four hours in and she felt like she had enough for most of her co-workers to have a field day out here. Difference was, for the most part, she had ethics. “Oh hey, no need. I have a day job,” she waved the offers of compensation off, “you’re good.” The day she accepted cash or handouts for this kind of thing would be the day—wait conjuring cash? At some point, she’d have to ask about that-about all of that, but one thing at a time.

Cassie saw the look that crossed Morgan’s expression and frowned for a second in confusion. It was only after the words were out of her mouth that she realized she’d said that last part out loud and immediately felt like backtracking. Shit, way to scare the crap out of them. She could practically see the alarm bells going off in Morgan’s head. Part of her wanted to bluff, tell her she meant as in the general sense but thought better of it. Better not to start off on a lie. It never ended well.

“Okay so, you’ve got one visitor,” she admitted tentatively, “but you’ve got nothing to worry about, they don’t look like much of a threat.” Cassie cast another glance at them as they continued to hover around nearby like a bad smell. Was that an incline of their head at that last comment? “This’d be a very different conversation if there was, trust me.” She hoped that might take a little of the edge off of it. “I’m free today, least I’ve got nothing much planned. I can stop by, deal with the mystery guest over there, try and get contact properly,” figure out if they’re who you’re looking for,” figure out what they wanted and how they even got there like that she added to herself. The longer she looked at the figure the weirder it got. For a second she thought she saw a pair of eyes take shape before they flickered out again. Interesting. “Or if you wanted to wait,” she blinked and brought her attention back to Morgan, “I can hand over some things to keep them out of your hair for a while give you my cell number and you can text me an address or something. Whichever works.” Cassie pulled her cell out from her pocket and opened her bag out to look for what was left her the black salt but came up empty-handed, “crap, the last of it’s in the car,” she murmured and picked the jar of the stuff she was about to buy again and raised her eyebrows at the price tag. Wow, not for forty dollars I’m not. “This stuff keeps them away,” she lifted the jar back up before putting it back down again. “I have some in the car, but regular salt works, just doesn’t last as long.”

“Are you sure?” Morgan pressed. “You’re kind of doing me a big favor…” But Cassie seemed pretty sure of her stance. Morgan couldn’t figure out why. There had to be loads of people who would pay a lot for help like this. Now that the weight of making up for her services was off Morgan’s chest, she could admit she would have pushed her powers to limit to make this happen. Why wouldn’t you try and get something out of the deal?

But Morgan didn’t have time to think about this because of what Cassie said next. You’ve got one visitor. She had really done it. Maybe? Hopefully. “A visitor,” she repeated, dumbfounded. “A ghost kind of visitor, following me around.” What if it was Agnes? Or one of Agnes’ children? Morgan looked back over her shoulder again, just in case willpower alone could bring it into her sight and understanding. When looked back at Cassie, her face was glowing with held back excitement.

“I need to find out who it is,” she said quietly. “In case it’s who I’m looking for. But the other stuff would be good too. This maybe-kind-of isn’t my first time trying this, just the first time that it’s worked.” She looked at the salt jar Cassie Hefted and made a mental note to up her game in that area. Forty dollars for a little jar. Maybe she should start charging more for her candles; this family quest was getting expensive. “I’d like to see the kind of salt you roll with,” she added lightly. “I’ve been using mom’s old kosher salt, but that was before I knew I should be upgrading. What’s in your mix that makes it different? And, would it be unprofessional if I hugged you right now?”

“Just the one,” Cassie repeated as if that would somehow make it any better. “They’re hard to make out though, which means either they’re weaker, like they’re new or they’re on the out.” Another glance towards the mystery figure and she was sure she picked up the indignation coming off from their stance alone. “Okay. If I can get some stuff from the car, find somewhere quiet I can try and get a read on them. Figure out if this is your guy.” Cassie’s eyes followed Morgan’s gaze back to the discarded jar, “it’s different for everybody, but I like a mix. A little rock salt-any salt really-” she added quickly on review, “some chalk and some Obit ashes mixed in there. Helps with the ‘ashes to ashes part’ it’s not the main focus though. The main part is the words and the intent that’s there." Morgan seemed so enthusiastic and hopeful, she hoped she wasn’t setting her up for a loss. She could do it, hazy figure aside, but actually summoning something was still out of her wheelhouse. She just hoped she wasn’t about to be a let down. Cassie thought for a moment before answering, “maybe save it for when we actually ID your friend, or at least get some contact on line one.”

Morgan took out her phone and made notes as Cassie explained her salt recipe. There was a cemetery near the Traveler’s Rest, should be easy to come by the ashes. She didn’t trust her alchemy-brewed stuff to do the trick, not when it came to warding off whatever had come out of that cake. Morgan didn’t know much about what she was getting into, but she was aware she had passed the ‘in over your head’ signpost few miles behind packing up her life and moving to White Crest.

She settled for a thumbs up at Cassie instead of the hug. “Too soon, got it,” she said, laughing it off. “But it’s not about the success. I mean, success would be great, obviously, but I’ve been at this--for good reason!--for three years now, and this is the first time I’ve gotten, like, help from anyone. Even if you have to go back to your very expert drawing board, I’m still appreciative. Really.” Something in her sombered at the truth in those words, three years banging her head against her laptop, three years trying to get out of bed, trying not to derail her life anymore than this stupid curse already had. Three years and now she was at the zero hour. Of course she was grateful for even the illusion of progress. What did she have left to lose this year except her life anyway? Her shitty jobs? But that wasn’t the right mindset. Think positive. Move forward. She pepped herself up and headed for the door. “So! Let’s go figure this out!”

Mulling over what Morgan had said. About this being the first time anybody had offered some actual help rankled a little. If you could kick them out it stood to reason there was a way to call them up. It might actually be useful for a few things. Maybe if they were lucky whoever she was trying to get hold of was actually still around, strange as that was to say considering, they could actually make contact. “Three years?” Cassie felt her eyebrows raise involuntarily at that information. “Well, least you’ve got it now, the help I mean. If at first you don’t succeed get mad and try again,” she joked. Even if this didn’t go down well first time around, she had a more than a little healthy curiosity at the idea of something like that actually working. “You must really need this guy for something.” Not about to pry, but you didn’t spend that time trying over something trivial. Following Morgan’s lead and heading outside and back out towards where her car was parked Cassie took out her keys and grabbed the duffle bag out from the trunk and draped it over one shoulder. She shifted the weight a little and used her free hand and lifted up a piece of the padding covering the spare tyre space. “One second. I just need a couple things.” Cassie grabbed up a few loose items and stuffed them inside the bag, “this might help identify Mr Mysterio. Get a better signal and figure out if this is your guy.” Closing the trunk over again she turning back to Morgan with a smile. “Okay, and we’re all set. Lead the way.”

“L-lead the way,” Morgan repeated, hoping that repetition would rattle something into place. “To the ghost place, that--would make sense.” She began to walk in the general direction of the traveler’s rest. “But, it’s really interesting you should say that. Because, there’s my room at the Traveler’s Rest where I do most things right now, and there’s Al’s where I did the spell. Or I think I did.” Her cheeks were growing hot again. This had all seemed reasonable, even expected in the moment, but preparing to say it out loud, she suddenly felt like an idiot. “I’m working from scratch with this, but there was a spell on google that seemed to have a familiar structure to it, and I picked the right day, I checked the moon, and all that for maximum potency. But, there might have been...cake involved. And admittedly, that seemed like an interesting ask for a request from the beyond. I don’t know if I should take you to the spot where it happened, or if we just need to duck into my room so the muggles won’t stare at us since they’re supposed to be drawn to me and not the place?” Her voice rose higher as she spoke, struggling to maintain the very logical order of planning she had taken the trouble of going to. “Anyways, it’s...all the same direction. Just a little more--this way. And I can pull up the spell, if that helps.”

“That’s where I live-well, I don’t live there. I’m staying there, or I have a room there anyway.” Cassie wasn’t staying here she reminded herself. It was temporary like everywhere else. “That works,” she looked back over at Morgan with a nod, “or if you wanted somewhere more out in the open, there’s Al’s.” That one was the least favourite option. She hated an audience to this stuff. Growing up it was something to be buried away, not broadcast in public. It was hard to get out of that way of thinking. Old habits died hard that way. “Not sure what the rules are for summoning ghosts in the diner though. Might be a no shirt, no shoes, ghosts, no service,” she joked. Cake? Wait, how did cake figure into it? Okay, that was a question for a little later. Not the time. There was her least favourite word in this kind of context; Google. Hypocritical as that was, she’d done the same thing back before she put her foot down with her parents and got someone that actually knew what they were doing to step in. Ray was a cantankerous jerk that first day, but he knew his stuff. Saved her getting fried anyway. “Google kind of sucks for anything with ghosts. First removal invocation I looked up there had a chunk of it missing,” she admitted. “I was twenty-two and stupid,” she made a brief grimace, “good thing I asked somebody else or I wouldn’t be talking to you. Looks like something might’ve worked, don’t think your friend has been hanging around here all that long. What did this spell on google look like?” Cassie asked, curious now. Maybe it was some sort of banishment circle gone wrong, like they’d copied it wrong, got the opposite effect. Who knew at this point.

“Yeah, I guess it’s hard to call that living, huh?” Morgan said. “Home-sweet-not-home it is.” They continued the journey together, and Morgan told her everything she could about the spell. She had recognized one of the sigls as something she’d seen in an invocation book. She couldn’t remember what the book had said it was for exactly, but the sighting had given her hope. The plan had been to harness the energy of familiarity to reach out to other spirits who had that energy in common. So, her birthday, the land where the people she was looking for had lived, and a birthday cake, which commemorated the continuation of her family. A little fire, a few words, a little saliva to create a taste of life and boom, call made, familial tether climbed, ancestors summoned. She hadn’t noticed or felt anything different at the time. She had assumed she had done something wrong, or supernatural google wasn’t quite on par with her needs as she’d hoped. She showed Cassie a screenshot and went on. She was trying to get in touch with some ancestors. She had some unfinished business with them, funny, right? Only her magical department wasn’t so much in parting the veils or whatever as it was turning stuff into different stuff. As they neared the Traveler’s Rest, she fished around in her pocket for her old set of keys. She plopped them onto her pop socket and gestured. The keys shaped themselves into a metal cuff, a robot figurine. She made it float before coaxing the metal back into keys again. “Neat, right?”

Morgan’s things were splayed all over her room, two large suitcases worth, seemingly made larger by the cramped space. Morgan cleared a spot in the middle of the floor. “I have some Arizona Tea in the mini fridge if you want any. But why not first things first? How do we talk to my visitor friend?”

They were keys. They were keys and then they weren’t and then they were in the air. Then they were keys again and that’s the moment life stopped making sense for a second.

Neat, right?

That was one word for it. Cassie couldn’t even nod, just stood there in stunned silence and stared at the keys in Morgan’s hand as she opened the door out and stepped inside. Talking about that kind of thing was once thing, but seeing it in front of her? Whole different ball game. “…Sounds-sounds, yeah,” she found herself saying, her voice sounding a little far away. Reality snapped back again with a bang and she remembered what she was even there for. Right, focus. The way Morgan had been talking and judging from the picture she saw it sounded more and more like a variation of a banishment circle. An inverted one maybe. First thing was first, making contact.

“Oh, that part’s easy,” right, get it together. The solution to that particular snag was simple. “One second,” Cassie dug out a pen and a scrap of paper and scrawled down the alphabet and placed it on the nearest flat surface she could find. “Just needed some quiet first.”

Thank you Stranger Things, Cassie stepped back and addressed the mystery guest, “if you want to just point to tell me what your-” she didn’t get to finish that sentence before the figure darted to the paper and the pen laying beside it. They jabbed their hand in an attempt to move the Biro and watched as they seemed to grow frustrated in their attempts. Wow, they really were weak. Usually most ghosts could conjure up just enough energy to move a biro a couple centimetre across a page for all of ten seconds. “Or, if you want, you can just point. If it’s easier,” seemed they took that as a challenge and the pen started to shift, “…Okay,” she gestured, giving the go-ahead and waited as they pointed over to each letter.

W.A.N.T….F.R...

Cassie turned back to Morgan once she figured out the gist of it. “They want to know what you want,” when they started up again.

L.E.T.G.O

Oh. Fuck. Morgan took all of her attempts to get in touch with the dead very seriously, it was kind of a matter of life and death at this point, but whatever she had hoped for at the end of each attempt, it didn’t look anything like this. Cassie was sitting with a freaking piece of paper from a notebook and a ballpoint pen, nothing special or consecrated, just practical. And it was moving. Moving all by itself. It was shaking, like the hand holding it was too upset or too weak to hold it together properly. Morgan shifted away from it on the floor. Seeing this invisible force want things, demand things, show--feeling made her uncomfortable in a way she didn’t want to unpack. Wasn’t that what they had always been? And what did it really change about what she needed anyway?

“Um, okay,” she breathed, keeping her voice steady with effort. “That’s nice. Good to know. Sorry you’ve been...here, for so long. But I am going to need some information from you first before we can do that. Okay?” She squared her shoulders back and tried to adopt the kind of voice she used on her freshmen college students. “Now, who are you? What’s your name?”

Watching Morgan move away from the sheet of paper as though it was contagious Cassie realised, she had forgotten how this kind of thing might look to an outsider. What was grade school stuff to her was the stuff of nightmares to somebody else. She recognised that weird waxy looking shade Morgan had paled to and Should’ve just asked them to point. Tell, don’t show this time.

Cassie offered Morgan a look of encouragement as the mystery guest responded, Floor’s all your,s and looked over to their guest who listened and inclined their head as if they were studying her. They folded their arms over for a few moments before answering as thought they were a few moments away from doing the opposite and b an ass. Cassie shot them a look and looked at Morgan again then as the pen began to move again. A lot less stable than before as they slowly spelled the words out.

S.E.A.N…B.A.C.H.M.A.N

Okay, now they were getting somewhere. They had a name. “This your guy?” Cassie asked. She still didn’t understand what she did, but recognising that whatever it was it had worked somehow.

...E.T....G.O…C.A.L.L.E.D…H.E.R.E…..A.P.O.L.O.G.I.Z

Cassie frowned at that last message and now it was her turn to look at the figure, Sean, she corrected herself, her head inclining.

“Ooh! Sean! You’re Agnes’ nephew, right? Your dad was named Abel?” Not who Morgan was looking for, not even close, and she shook her head at Cassie in a sheepish universal signal of ‘close but no cigar.’ Still, she felt an electric rush of excitement. This was more direct contact than she’d gotten...ever. Ever-ever. The rest of his message was a lot more puzzling. Who was apologizing? Sean hadn’t done anything wrong, at least not that she’d dug up yet. “We’ll get to that Sean, but I’m wondering if you know anything about your aunt? If she...kept a secret book of magic maybe? Or if you saw her, or heard maybe…” Fuck it. “If you heard of her doing something bad enough that might make someone curse our whole family?” She felt cold all over and out of breath just from asking. She’d been nosing around ancestry sites and state records for so long, she had picked up her whole life, she had pestered Cassie in the middle of a shop, all for this, all without putting her finger on the big, awful magic button of a reason. And having to ask it out loud now, even in the most common sense of ways frustrated Morgan. It was a reminder that there was a chance the answer might be no. Maybe the afterlife had turned Sean’s memory to custard, or he just hadn’t been the kind of kid to overhear rumor. “Anything, Sean?” She pressed. “Be honest.”

Success? Cassie looked over expectantly and clocked the expression on Morgan’s face and felt her shoulders slump slightly. No, crap. That had to sting. So close, she actually had somebody here and judging by the look that passed her features they’d missed the mark by a few miles.

I’m wondering if you know anything about your aunt?

Y.E.S

The pen continued to move and while Cassie had next to zero to compare this it seemed like who Morgan had got hold sounded like they were a family member. Close, right? Cassie sat back and kept watch and listened as Morgan reached out to Sean. Her eyes darted up again at Morgan’s words at the end there. Eyebrows raised in concern. Cursed?

…O.W…D.A.R.E...

“Just answer the question and you can be on your way. Come on, man.” It was round about then that Sean decided to have a temper tantrum and managed to tear the paper a few centimetres in his answer. It seemed to take it out of him. She saw him fade further and stop .“I think he wore himself out with that one.” It was a while before he summoned up the energy to fade back to view again.

…T.E.L.L….Y.O.U….N.O.T.H.I

The light on one of the bedside tables clinked and the TV switched on and off for a second at that outburst.

….R.E.L.E.A.S.E….ME…

What a baby. “Spooky. Very good,” Cassie shook her head and spoke in a deadpan tone. “I know you’re pissed but don’t be an ass, Sean, or we’re going to have a problem.”

Morgan clenched her fists in her lap to keep from shaking. This was getting very real, very quickly, and somehow not at all fulfilling in the way she’d hoped. The paper was making noises all by itself, and it was one thing to look away from the screen when things started getting weird in The Conjuring, but something else entirely when the jump scare was right in front of your face. There was nowhere to go from this. Morgan looked behind her and saw the TV flickering, like some five year old on a sugar high was going crazy with the switch, and the tables were rattling louder without anyone being there. Morgan’s eyes had been stretched open long enough to tear up. She was sure if she closed them she’d make up some excuse for what she was seeing, she’d try to tell herself that this was wrong and definitely impossible. But the only thing scarier than seeing this happen, was to never see it happen. Fuck.

“Sean, you asshole! Cut it out!” She screamed over the noise. “You tell me what you know!”

But Sean was not remotely interested. Morgan felt down in her pocket to the salt stash she had and threw it near the paper.

“You wanna stay here forever, Sean?” She asked. “Because I don’t give a shit if you’re stuck with me forever, okay! You can throw a fit all year for all I care, got it? So spit it out already!”

Cassie shot Sean’s general figure an exasperated look and turned to Morgan and frowned in confusion. Where was he getting this idea he wasn’t free to go here? She really wasn’t about to enlighten them any time soon. Looking at Morgan just as the ‘I want to speak to the manager theatrics’ flared up again she saw Morgan glance around looking rattled. Crap. She knew that look. Cassie saw the clenched fists and shot her a worried look.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Cassie reached over but paused when she realised then that it wasn’t all fear there. There was some anger bubbling under the surface and stopped, sitting back down beside the paper. “Just some grade school level theatrics. He couldn’t blow the fuse on a lightbulb,” Cassie shot Sean a glare. Was it really so hard for the douche to just give Morgan what she wanted so they could just drop kick him back to the beyond like he wanted here? “And if you do, I’m going to have some words you’re not going to like.” Turned out the reassurance really wasn’t needed here. Morgan was holding her own. More than; she was outright making demands, tossing salt she didn’t even remember she had on her at the paper. Fast learner.

You can throw a fit all year for all I care, got it? So spit it out already

“What she said,” Cassie shrugged and looked for a second at the salt Morgan had just tossed in Sean’s general direction, “and if she thinks about throwing any more of that there’s not a damn thing I’m doing to do to stop her. I’ll tell her where to aim. Your call.”

S.K….C.O.N.S.T.A.N.C.E…L.E.A.V.E….M.E

The pen moved, with urgency then, spelling out a name. Now, that wasn’t to hard, was it?

Morgan came back to herself with Cassie’s agreement, what she said. Oh. Shit. She’d really let loose there. Threatened her ancestor, even if he was kind of a dick, wasted some salt aiming at whichever part of the air had looked most threatening. Cassie, for her part, didn’t seem too upset about her seasoning the ghost, and Morgan didn’t know what to make of that, except that she would have to explain a lot more about her situation than she’d had to in a long time. But that could wait. Hopefully. Sean was telling them about...someone named Constance. Morgan couldn’t remember how she fit into her family story off the top of her head. Was she Constance’s mother? Her daughter? It was right on the edge of her recall, but she couldn’t reach it. But it was better than nothing.

“Fine,” she said flatly. “Fine, go.” She still had some salt in her hand and threw it again. “Fuck you anyway, though. And tell Constance I’m coming for her.” She turned to Cassie for help, holding her sweater close around her chest, flushed with embarrassment.

Cassie watched as Morgan threw the remainder of salt in her hand towards the paper again, but something strange happened in the seconds before the salt even went airborne. Cassie didn’t get the chance to even start to send him away. There second Morgan uttered the word go the ghost that was formerly known as Sean zapped out like an old television. Blipped back to the void as if being pulled back somewhere. “That was new,” was all she could manage then with raised eyebrows. “He’s already gone,” she clarified, shaking herself out of it. What the hell was that?

“Okay,” she spoke again eventually as the quiet descended. “I have no idea what you did,” she admitted, still processing, “but that’s uh, that’s different.” Understatement, the air shifted, she felt that much. Swore she heard a faint popping sound as they went. “Did you get what you wanted? Sort of anyway? A name is a start, right?” Cassie shifted back and let out a breath. “So, um, walk me through what you did here, with the circle. Maybe we can get somebody else.”

Morgan flopped back on the floor when Cassie said he was gone. She didn’t know how she could tell, and without anything to tell by she almost didn’t believe it. This...this was good, right? This was progress...in that it was more ghost she’d spoken to in her whole life, certainly more than she had gotten out of any of her magic experiments. She would have to find out who Constance was, what she had to with all this. Agnes had been the one everyone talked about, but maybe she was just the baby monster. Oh god, if this was going to turn into a Grendel’s Mother situation-- Morgan put her head in her hands and breathed out long and hard. One thing at a time. “I um...I can send you the stuff. I have the webpage saved, but I don’t know if I can do it again, without some meaningful date and a new moon, or maybe not, maybe that was bullshit…” she was mumbling, half in a daze, as she pawed around the messy floor for her computer. She pulled it up and sent it to Cassie’s account on the town social media network. Handy, that. She stood up and dusted off a whole lot of nothing off her jeans. “I got something alright!” She said, scrambling to put her smile back on. “Thank you for helping on short notice. You’re really nice, and I’ll find a way to make it up somehow. Maybe when, um, the adrenaline is a little, uh, less, we can figure something out.” Or not. Cassie seemed like she might make a good shortcut through the mess, but she might also be fast-tracking herself into the danger zone. But if it meant not running from herself anymore, maybe it would be worth it anyway.

#an in spectre calls #wr cassie #wr chatzy #wr cassie chatzy #//ghost stufff!!!!

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acemeaskipper · 5 years ago

Text

okay this is so much longer than I thought it’d be, but okay. i started thinking of this au where instead of joining red dwarf to get back to earth, Lister joins to get away from earth and all the bad memories there. He works a little harder, understands Rimmer a bit more, and unfortunately, doesn’t have Frankenstein.

and this is a little fic about Lister’s first day on red dwarf and his meeting with Rimmer. It’s lowkey shippy, but only a little. Yeah, enjoy.

A star exploded the day Lister left earth. The supernova had reflected multicoloured on the inside walls of Red Dwarf, nearly blinding him.

He wasn’t sure if it was a sign of some sort, but regardless, it had been an interesting way to start his new job. More interesting than his room at least.

It was both bigger and smaller than he thought it’d be, and painfully plain. If only they were allowed to paint the walls, or get a nice rug or carpet, Lister mused, then it may look a little less like a sci-fi hell. Oh well, he was sure if he covered the walls in enough photos and posters it could look a little bit more like home. It wasn’t as if he was going to be here long anyway, he could handle a boring room.

He tightened his grip on his suitcase, shifted the strap of his backpack a little then walked in.

“Hello, Dave. You like the room?”

“Agh!”

Lister jumped and spun around to the source of the voice. The face of a tired-looking man on a screen. Ah, right. The AI, Holly. He briefly wondered why they had decided to make their AI look so exhausted, but shrugged the thought away. People were weird, what the hell.

“Uh, hi. Holly, righ’?”

“That’s right, my dude. So?”

“It’s alrigh’,” Lister shrugged, “I guess.”

“Bit boring, ain’t it?” Holly agreed.

“Yeah, it is. Is it at least warm?”

“Sometimes.”

“Great, great…”

“Oh, and heads up, your roommate is coming soon. Good luck.”

“Uh, thanks?”

“Don’t mention it,” Holly nodded, “Catch you later, dude.”

“Yeah…”

Holly disappeared, and Dave couldn’t help but snicker. Dude? They hadn’t mentioned that about Holly in the leaflet. Maybe it was intentional, a strange surprise for new workers. He supposed that was one way to prepare people for the weirdness of space, having the AI who looked like a middle-aged man going around say ‘dude’.

He shook his head and moved closer to the bunk beds, looking them over.

It was honestly hard to tell which one was already occupied, both beds were both neat, tidy and lacking in any personality whatsoever. There was one colourful timetable stuck on the wall next to the bottom bunk, however, and Lister concluded it was probably taken.

It seemed strange how bare the walls were, though. No pictures of family or friends, no posters, no nothing. Had this person only just moved in too? No, he knew for a fact this person had already been here a year or two at least. And gone through six roommates in the span of three months. A slightly daunting fact, but hopefully, the number would stay at six.

He slung his bags onto the top bunk, decided to unpack them later… maybe. The week was young after all, he’d have plenty of time to do that later.

Lister sat down on one of the chairs in the room and took a deep breath. Hardly nothing had happened, and already he was exhausted. His eyes ached, his limbs felt heavy, and he let out a yawn. A nap would be nice… but snoring probably wasn’t the best way to introduce yourself to your new roommate, so Lister held off.

He ran his fingers over his hair and tried to think of something to keep himself away. Maybe he should go back to dreadlocks, he thought, that’d been fun back when he was a teen. But. But he didn’t have anyone to help him with them anymore.

He’d left them all behind, just like they had left him.

Of course, he was alive when they had left, and they were all just bones now. So maybe it wasn’t a fair comparison… Lister hoped his friend Camille would remember to put flowers on all the graves every month, just like he’d asked. They probably wouldn’t, always too caught up in the drama that was their Casablanca-love affair to think of much else, but he could hope.

Lister sighed and slouched in his chair. Nah, his hair was fine as it was. Loose and tied back. He looked fine. Fine.

Then, the door opened.

The person on the other side didn’t walk in immediately, too busy snapping at someone Lister couldn’t see, to notice the door had opened.

A tall, skinny white guy with pale skin, and light brown curls that had been clearly forced into a flat and dull style. Every inch of his body screamed ‘tense’ as he barked insults, face going ever so slightly red.

Ah, what luck.

Lister stood up and waited until the yelling had stopped to speak.

“You’re Howie’s brother, aren’t you?”

The guy’s snapped in Lister’s direction, and Lister had the urge to apologise and slowly back away.

“’Howie’? The man repeated.

Yep, that was definitely him, Lister knew. He’d only met one other person before with such an obnoxiously posh voice, which he had been told was common on that planet.

“Sorry, Howard,” Lister apologised, “You’re Arnold Rimmer, right?”

Rimmer frowned even more.

“Yes, I am.”

Lister walked towards him, and with a big smile, held out his hand.

“I’m David Lister.”

“Oh.”

Rimmer’s frown dropped into something less ‘I will fucking kill you’ and more ‘ew, there’s a dead bug in my drink’. He did shake Lister’s hand at least.

“Howard’s told us about you,” Rimmer continued, “Poor little orphan boy from earth somehow manages to get into Io’s Space Corps training program on a scholarship, truly a success story for the ages.”

Lister twisted his lip but said nothing. Howard had warned him that his little brother could put a lemon to shame with how bitter he was, but Lister had been hoping Rimmer wouldn’t be this bad from the get-go.

“Doesn’t really mean anything though,” Lister shrugged, “Now tha’ I’m here, as a third blood technician.”

Was it too much to ask that he was at least made a second technician with all his qualifications? Maybe he was just being prideful, but he’d thought he enough skills to be more than a vending machine fixer.

But at that, Rimmer pulled himself to stand straighter and smiled. He looked a lot better now, Lister mused. Almost handsome.

“Third technician, aye? Well, don’t you worry, miladdo-”

“Mi-whatto?”

“-you’re in good hands with me.”

“Huh?”

“If you’re a third technician and my roommate, you’re likely to be working the Z Shift with me, as your immediate superior officer,” Rimmer explained.

Lister gave what he hoped looked like a real smile.

“Great.”

“Still though, I don’t see why on Io you would leave the Space Corps,” Rimmer mused.

“Because it’s filled with pompous, trust-fund pricks who like to spend their evenings bragging about how big their guns are.”

Also, it was a lot of work. A lot of hard work. A month in and Lister had already been ready to drop. He wasn’t too surprised when a drunk Howard had blabbed about the high suicide rate there.

Rimmer let out a sharp laugh at that, then quickly shut his mouth and blinked. He almost looked surprised. But he quickly shook his head and moved on.

“Yes, but it’s the Space Corps! It’s where you go if you want a career in space!”

“I don’t want a career; I just want to get away from Earth.”

Earth was a place were babies were abandoned under pub tables, were parents disappeared and left you a crying kid, and grans died just when you needed them most. Where people broke your heart and laughed, where people called you stupid and said you’d never amount to anything, so suck it up, buttercup.

Rimmer pursed his lips.

“I supposed I could understand wanting to get away from that horrid little planet, but really… giving up a job on the Space Corps for this?”

Lister shrugged.

“I just want to get some cash, find a nice planet with a nice beach, then settle down. Maybe open a farm, get a cat, sheep, horses, then spend the rest of my days doing whatever the hell I want.”

Rimmer didn’t seem to get it.

“But you could have been an officer! Howard said so, and he’s not one to give out praise like that.”

“Why’d you want to be an officer? They’re all smegheads, I mean, just look at your brothers.”

That earned another out of Rimmer, one that wasn’t as sharp and lasted a little longer. There, that was better, Lister grinned. Not the prettiest laugh ever, but he didn’t sound half bad.

“Fair point,” Rimmer said.

And before he could continue with ‘but still’, Lister began speaking again.

“The though’ of ending up like Howard could put anyone off wanting to be an officer, honestly.”

“Really? You didn’t like him? He seemed awfully fond of you…”

“Hid it,” Lister shrugged, “He was my tutor and said he’d help me get here, so couldn’t bitch about him too much. Wanted to though, I never had any free time thanks to ‘im. Almost every night I had to drag him out of the bar and to ‘is room.”

“What?!” Rimmer exclaimed.

“Yeah, don’t think he had any friends, so he’d bribe me into fetching ‘im. Used to buy cigarettes off me too. Dunno why he wouldn’ jus’ buy them himself, a lot of other officers smoked too…”

Slowly, a giant (slightly mad-looking) smile grew on Rimmer’s face.

“Really? He told mother he had a ton of friends.”

Lister wondered if he should mention it. On the one hand, it could lead to Rimmer freaking out (Howard had mentioned that Rimmer was a bit… neurotic), but on the other… it didn’t seem right not to mention it.

“Must be invisible then, ‘cause he was always alone when he went out… he told me a lot about you when he was drunk. The things him and the other two used to do to you.”

The smile dropped off Rimmer’s face.

“Oh.”

Lister risked it and gave Rimmer a pat on the arm. Rimmer looked at it like it was a radioactive butterfly; strange and possibly dangerous.

“Pretty shit childhood, huh?” Lister said. Rimmer stayed silent. “Mine was pretty fucked up too, so we match.”

Lister gave him a smile, then turned around to climb up onto his bunk bed.

Rimmer seemingly forgot to act like a human being for a few seconds, staring blankly into space while stood completely still. He shook it off a second later.

“No shoes on the bed,” he snapped.

“My feet aren’t on the bed though,” Lister pointed out.

Rimmer’s face went a little red.

“I- just take them off!”

“Okay, okay! They’re off!”

Lister kicked them off, leaving them to fall down loudly in a muddy pile next to the ladder. Rimmer frowned and glared at the shoes.

“And now you’ve made a mess, wonderful.”

“You better get used to tha’, I’m a bit of a slob,” Lister chuckled, “Oh, and I snore too. Sorry. I do have a sleep cpap machine, but it got broke on the way here. They said I’ll have to wait a day or two for a new one.”

“So, I’m not getting any sleep either, splendid.”

“I can’ help it.”

“Why don’t they put people like you in a room of your own? Or at least with other snoring smegheads,” Rimmer muttered.

“Because tha’d be smart,” Lister snorted.

Rimmer looked a little happier. Right, compliments were the way to go if he wanted to survive this job. Lister could handle that; he could be a good suck-up if the situation called for it.

“Sounds like they could do with someone like you as an officer,” Lister said, “Might come up with some actual smart ideas.”

Rimmer lit up like the supernova and Lister’s heart fluttered a little.

Oh.

Handsome. Rimmer could be very handsome, it seemed. That was nice. Lister sent him back a lazy grin, revelling in the soft pink that settled on Rimmer’s cheeks. It’d been a while since he’d dated a man, Lister noted, maybe it was time to try again.

“I-I-,” Rimmer began. But then he stopped and shook his head. “Are you sure you’re even old enough to be here?”

Lister rolled his eyes.

“Course I am, man. Not like I could really trick anyone into thinkin’ I’m older than I am with this face, can I?”

“I suppose you’re right,” Rimmer agreed.

Lister wondered why Rimmer would care about his age- oh.

Rimmer coughed and looked away.

“Well, um, have you been given a tour of the ship yet?”

He had.

“No.”

Rimmer turned back around and smirked a little.

“Come on then, get your boots back on and I’ll show you around.”

“Oh, thanks, man.”

Lister grinned and hoped down. As he put his boots on, he could feel Rimmer’s eyes on him. Yes, he decided, as he tied on his already tied laces for a few seconds later, this could be fun.

#i did this instead of working on my original story hope u enjoy #red dwarf #Dave Lister #arnold rimmer

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louis-sottficrec · 6 years ago

Text

Fluff

Just A Flower Boy by Larryruinedme, 70k.

CUTE, FLUFF, YES.

Summary: Harry Styles is a clumsy, flower crown-wearing, openly gay junior with only two true friends, Niall and Zayn. Louis Tomlinson is the school's attractive, straight football captain, with a small body and a big personality. As fate will have it, Harry has a huge, unrequited, utterly hopeless crush on Louis. Fate is thrown out the window the day that Harry and Louis find themselves partnered up for a history project. Harry starts to receive notes from a secret admirer, Louis starts to get jealous of Harry's budding friendship with senior Nick Grimshaw, Zayn and Liam develop a thing for each other, and Niall is the best mate anyone could have asked for. And suddenly, Harry's crush on Louis doesn't seem so utterly hopeless anymore.

You’ll Never Know by inmyrosegarden, 56k.

Again, the fluffiest of fluffiest fics. You might want to select ‘entire work’ as I felt that it read a bit smoother that way.

Summary: Louis is the overachiever who’s too shy to approach the boy he likes. Harry is the popular athlete who tries to help him get the attention of said boy. Little does Harry know that he’s the one Louis is crushing on.

Before I Fall Too Fast by xxSterre, 6k.

Summary: ‘Hey Lou, want to hang out after work? Order in some curry?’ He’s slightly surprised, because, well. “Didn’t you just say you had plans?” Harry’s cheeks flush as he shrugs it off. ‘I just wanted them off my back. Truth is I’m gonna be terribly single and alone, but I thought we could be single and alone together - maybe we could make a proper night off of it? Play some FIFA, watch Grease...’ He trails off with an impish grin, and Louis is pretty sure that his own face shows just how easy he is for his favourite musical. “Fine, I can’t say no to Danny and Sandy. That’d be mean of me.” It’s probably a really bad idea to spend Valentine’s Day with the guy that you’re actually crushing on, Louis knows that. However, it’s also really hard to say no to spending the most romantic day of the year - supposedly - with the one guy you’ve been crushing on for almost a year.

Shy Eyes by isthatyoularry, 2k.

I’m a sucker for coffee shop au’s, so this is just 2k of pure fluff, it’s cute.

Summary: Coffee Shop AU where Harry is 21 and famous and he has been in love since the moment he saw those cerulean blue eyes.

Four Letters, Seven Points by LibbyWrites, 20k.

Coffee shop and scrabble makes for the perfect fluff fic!

Summary: Louis was pretty sure that a nerd who plays Scrabble as a hobby could only be boredom personified. Harry proved him utterly wrong.

Apples Always Fall (As I Do For You) by rainbowsandgucci, 54k.

This has created even higher reaching expectations of the dream life. I want to live on this apple orchard and fall in love now.

Summary: ”Due to unforeseen circumstances, help is needed here at the orchard for the impending apple season. Looking for someone able to start within the next week or two at the most, is willing to do whatever miscellaneous tasks are needed, such as picking & packing apples, running the cash register, and other handywork that may need to be done. Must be good with customers, and able to lift up to 50lbs. Help will be needed until at the least the end of October. Please contact the number found on this page, or come out to the orchard and ask for Harry. All the love xx” Louis is staying at his Aunt's farm in a small town in Minnesota for four months. To deal with the boredom that sets in a week into his stay, he starts working at the local apple orchard, owned by twenty six year old Harry Styles. Louis quickly finds himself falling in love with the orchard, and he finds a family in Harry's friends Niall, Liam, and Zayn. He also starts to fall in love with Harry. Falling in love with him turns out to be the easy part.

Make It Everlasting So Nothing’s Incomplete by supernope, 9k.

Flowershop and lots of Valentine’s fluff, what more can a person ask for..

Summary: Trying to be conspicuous so he doesn’t startle him, Harry sidles up to Louis and asks, “How’s it going?” “Alright,” Louis muses, turning his head so he can smile at Harry. “I wish there were explanations about what each of the flowers mean on labels or something, though.” A thrill runs up Harry’s spine, and he can’t quite temper the grin that spreads across his face as he asks, “Well, I could tell you, if you’d like?” “Oh, only if you have time, I don’t want to keep you away from your work -” “Louis,” Harry laughs, gesturing around the empty shop. “There is nobody here and, as luck would have it, there is literally nothing I would like more than to talk to you about flowers.”

i’ll bring the bread because boy, you’re the jam by snagnetism, 8k.

Summary: Just when he’s about to stop clicking the next button and claim defeat, maybe put some posters up around town, he’s met with a picture of white cardstock lying on a table, words written in black Sharpie with careful, deliberate strokes. “Hiiii,” it reads, “if you’re reading this, you’ve found my camera! I’d love it if you could contact me so I can get it back. It’d be the nice thing to do.” Or the AU where Harry loses his camera. Louis finds it. They fall for each other via email.

Blend into my favourite colour by rainbowninja167, 19k.

Very fluffy and lots of pining between two (or four) oblivious boys.

Summary: Harry often wonders if they’ll ever meet in real life. And if Harry will recognize Tommo the instant they see each other, like somehow their souls will just know. Or maybe Harry’s soul is shouting “Louis!” too loudly for any other signals to go through. Harry is a barista with a secret Werewolf High fan blog, a desperate crush on a customer named Louis, and a best friend on Tumblr who always makes him laugh. Louis can't figure out why the barista at his favorite coffee shop keeps creepily staring at him, and to make matters worse, he may be slightly in love with a friend he met online. A love square involving two boys, one TV fandom, and one food fight.

Found My Missing Piece by styleandsin, 16k.

Very cute and fluffy bloggers AU. Lots of pining, ergo lots of goodness.

Summary: ‘“@harrystyles followed you.” “@harrystyles liked your tweet.” “What?” He whispers in astonishment, because there’s no way. But he clicks on Harry’s profile and sure enough, the little grey “follows you” appears by his name. After taking a second to just stare at the screen, he quickly takes a screenshot and sends it to his sister. Lottie is one of the few people who would understand his shock. Niall would certainly just make fun of him for it.’ Louis and Harry are both fashion bloggers. Louis' been following Harry for years. Harry and his blog really gave him the confidence and the push to make his own. His sister and best friend have been making fun of his silly little crush on him ever since. But that's all it is, a silly, harmless crush because there is no way Harry knows who he is. Or does he?

Both Sides by louiesunshine, 10k.

Two oblivious friends = a lot of pining.

Summary: ‘“What’s one thing that Harry doesn’t know about you and that you wish to tell him?” Oh, fuck. This is just fantastic, if Louis learns that Niall and Liam purposely threw this question for him, they are going to wish they never met him. Because of course there is something he wishes to tell Harry, but he can’t. He can’t because he’d run the chance of ruining their friendship and that cannot happen.’ Or, the one where Louis has been in love with Harry for years and hasn't told him. However, his friends Liam and Niall maybe provide the little push that he needs.

Not the Desperate Type by lululawrence, 6k.

Summary: “First of all, I’d like to tell you how disturbing it is that you’re this familiar with your neighbor’s sex life,” Liam said, amusement lacing his tone. “Fuck off,” Louis said, laughing. “Second, that is really very sad. How bad is the stomping? Are you sure your neighbor doesn’t like it fast like that?” “With the amount of cleaning the guy does, I think he’s taking out his sexual frustration on the cleanliness of his apartment. I can’t imagine the guy makes enough mess to require daily vacuuming.” It sounded like the guy was actually moving furniture above him as he was sweeping now. Damn. Did Louis miss the seven minutes in heaven or was the guy angry because he didn’t even get that much pleasure today? “I’m kinda afraid with the amount of noise he produces while cleaning that one day I’m gonna look up through my ceiling and be able to see him.” “Tell him we wish him a better sex life and that we’re rooting for him if you do.” Or the one where Louis' neighbor has a series of unfortunately short sexual experiences and Louis can hear every. Single. One.

Slow Hands (Slow Days) by LadeLondonderry, 9k.

So much fluff and animals and oblivious boys!

Summary: Louis Tomlinson is the new vet hired on at Payne Veterinary Practice, in the middle of the Yorkshire countryside with nothing but rolling hills and farms for miles. Harry Styles is a resident farmer, with pigs and sheep and beautiful green pasture and a, confusingly, completely empty milking parlour. Maybe Louis is putting too much thought into this, but he really, really thinks Harry should have cows. And Harry really, really seems to disagree.

In the end I started thinking about the beginning by infinitelymint, 21k.

I had tears filling my eyes at the end of this.

Summary: When Louis returned from Malaysia to attend his best mate Zayn's wedding, he hadn't expected their wedding planner to be Harry Styles. Over the next two weeks Louis learns that maybe staying in one place permanently isn't so bad, as long as you have someone to stay with.

Warm Me Like Sunshine by rainbowslovehl, 45k.

Not strictly, but it was very cute and warmed me up inside. Recommendation: read with a good cup of tea and a cozy blanket (extra: include fairy lights).

Summary: The pictures weren’t as surprising since Louis had seen him around with a giant camera hanging off his neck, and occasionally clicking passersby. What surprised him were the written parts, occasionally spread out between his photos. They ranged from random song lyrics, a few of which he recognised, mixed in with quotes, that he claimed he wrote himself. They were haikus or poems, mainly about love and longing for someone. And of course he wrote poetry, Louis shouldn’t be surprised. He did seem to be the type of person who are just perfect in every aspect. Or alternatively, Louis accidentally discovers that Harry, the boy who he likes, has a tumblr account. He thinks it’s a chance to talk to him online without actually talking, getting to know him before they converse in real life. But things don’t go according to the plan when he finds that Harry is pining over someone who seems to be perfect. It gets worse when Harry starts talking to him in real life as well, since now he has to hide from him that his online friend (Tommo) is the same as his real life friend (Louis).

Force of Nature by Holdmyhalo, 25k.

Cue the tears people, this will have you sobbing when the applause starts.

Summary:Louis is a shy, young musician who doesn't want to go to Harvard. Harry is a confident, second year athlete who likes to have a good time. When their paths cross while their families are vacationing at the same lake resort, what begins as a summer of fun becomes a defining journey that might just change everything.

Check Please by zedi, 2k.

Sugary sweet.

Summary: Louis has a shit date. Harry offers to cover the bill. They maybe fall in love.

Whether Clouds or Clear Skies by onewasturning, 25k.

Summary: “You, young Harold, are a baker among curry houses and vintage clothing stores,” Louis says, and it forces a bark of surprised laughter out of Harry. “I’m a— sorry, what?” “Harry,” Louis says, “last night I had an experience bordering on profound.” “You’re making it sound like you did something sexual with my muffin,” Harry says. Or, Louis gets into the habit of stealing baked goods while Harry’s busy keeping tabs on the weather.

Tis The Season For… Love? by AFangirlFantasy, 27k.

Summary: Harry seems to have it all: A successful career as a pastry chef, a Victorian home in London, and a dedicated boyfriend who he's been with for years. One day he stops by his boyfriend's apartment to surprise him and finds out that he's not so dedicated to Harry after all. Shocked and too depressed to celebrate, he decides to skip Christmas and on a whim leaves on a plane to New York. In New York he meets Louis… Or...Louis might just be what Harry's needed all along. (cheating, not HL)

Learning To Eat by photo41, 28k.

A lot of fun and cheekiness.

Summary: Celebrity chef Louis Tomlinson has a problem. He’s opening his first restaurant in 9 weeks, and he has yet to hire a pastry chef- apparently people think he’s ‘standoffish’ and ‘rude’ and ‘quick to temper’. Whatever. He ends up saddled with an annoying, happy-go lucky rookie who also happens to be obnoxiously good looking. His tv presenter and pop star best friends only add to the drama, and for fucks sake would everyone please stop quoting Julia Child?! Kitchen AU where Harry helps Louis re-learn how to eat. (METAPHORICALLY)

This Wicked Game by cherrystreet, 70k.

I’m not sure where to put this fic, category-wise, but it is pretty fluffy with a little ‘angst’. You’ll understand what I mean if you read it.

Summary: An AU in which The Bachelor is gay, Louis is a contestant, Harry is the bachelor, everyone drinks a lot of champagne, the entire world gets to watch them fall in love, and no one plays by the rules.

Don’t Unplug Me Or Shut Me Down by slashter, 7k.

Summary: Louis scowls. "He's a photography student. He works with gorgeous models and probably breaks hearts with his smile. I'm a nerd. I earn my money fixing broken crap, and for some stupid reason, I like it. He wears short skirts, I wear t-shirts, he's cheer captain and I'm on the bleachers, et cetera, et cetera." Louis sighs. "I swear, the coolest thing I've ever done is wear contacts." Basically, Louis is a self-proclaimed nerd who fixes things and Harry seems too perfect to keep breaking as many things as he does.

#fic rec #my fic rec list #larry fic rec #fluff #larry fluff #hl fluff

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stinkyies · 7 years ago

Text

greek food in hotel rooms

rating: pg-13

word count: 2,131

summary: based on dans insta story

notes: i finished this last night but ao3 was being a bitch and wouldn't let me upload and i had to wait till i got home from school to post

ao3 link

They both stumble into their hotel room. Both dragging their suitcases behind them with backpacks hanging off their shoulders. Phil holding the door open for Dan, who is carrying a large box with a keyboard inside. They put all of their stuff in a pile, while Dan is still holding the box.

“Dan where are you going to put that?”

Dan looks around their tiny room. The bags are taking up most of the floor space. He looks at the bed. There's a tiny space between the bed and the wall and the box would fit perfectly in it.

“Here is fine.”

He slots the box in. Dan realizes the placing of it is a bit illogical but he's not working with much at the moment.

“Dan, are you really going to leave it there?”

“Yep.”

Phil is about to open his mouth to say something but the knock on the door interrupts him.

“I'll get that.”

Dan walks over to the door and opens it. He doesn't bother looking through the peephole. A few people from the crew are standing outside.

“We were wondering if you would want to grab a few drinks with us?”

“Let me ask Phil what he wants to do real quick.”

Dan walks over to the bed that Phil is now sitting on.

“Do you want to grab drinks with them?”

Dan doesn't really mind if Phil wants to go or not. He's up for going out or staying in. Whatever Phil wants to do he’ll do.

“My head is kinda bothering me.”

That's their “get out of social situations” card. Phil feels kinda bad for making Dan bail on something he might actually want to do. Dan walks back over to the door.

“He's not really feeling that well so I'm gonna stay in and make sure he doesn't like throw up all over the place.Thanks for asking though. Maybe next time?”

“Sure yeah.”

Dan shuts the door but he can still hear what they say when it closes.

“I knew they weren't gonna go.”

“Just didn't wanna go out and get fired for not inviting them.”

Dan can't really make out what they say next as their voices drift away from walking elsewhere.

“You could have gone if you really wanted to.”

“I don't mind.”

Dan flops on the bed next to him. Phil is flipping through the room service menu.

“Whats on the menu?”

“The normal hotel food stuff. What are you in the mood for?”

“Is greek okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Is it on the menu?”

Phil skims over the pages.

“Not really but I can find a place to deliver.”

Phil takes out his phone and starts looking.

“What did you specifically have in mind?”

“Kebabs and pita bread.”

Phil finds a restaurant and dials the number.

While Phil orders the food Dan walks into the bathroom and turns on the shower. He strips and waits until he sees steam rise up from the curtains and walks in. He adjusts the shower head so he's actually not standing over the water spray. He feels the hot water run over his body and starts to lather himself with soap. Two shows in one day- on the first day of the actual tour has him drained. It's not that the show itself is physically demanding, or the meet and greets that drain his social tolerance fairly quickly. It's the adrenaline that came and now faded way. He feels good though. At least tomorrow they have a free day to catch up with PJ and Sophie, before they go around the world for like 5 months. Phil opening the curtains cuts him off from his train of thought.

“Can I come in?”

“Might as well.”

Phil lets his body relax under the warm spray as Dan takes some soap and starts washing Phil. Dan's hands start at Phil's back, massaging him. Dan's large hands feel amazing on Phil's tired body. Dan's hands start moving lower until he is grabbing his ass. Phil moans when Dan first starts to touch his butt. Dan keeps his grip on Phil's ass tight, he's not even massaging it at this point, he's just holding it. Then Phil turns around.

“Hey.”

Phil says in a calm voice. Dan knows that voice anywhere. The voice that reassures him when Dan is in his bad place. But Dan is fine right now, in this moment at least. He's not so sure why Phil is speaking to him like this currently.

“Hi, baby.”

Dan places a soft kiss on Phils now slightly damp forehead. Phil places his arms over Dan's shoulders.

“Are you okay?”

Phil asks in the same voice. Dan doesn't feel off but maybe Phil is sensing something. Usually, they know each other more than they know themselves, but Dan is fine. He's not denying something- maybe Phil is just concerned?

“M fine Phil.”

Dan looks straight into Phils eyes. Those gorgeous colored eyes that can't see shit. He loves them.

“Honestly I'm good.

“Good.”

Phil smiled at him and started to kiss him. They stand like that for a little while. Just kissing in the warm water and enjoying each other. Phil pulls away and gets down on his knees. Their shower sex only consists of blowjobs but Dans okay with that. He feels content. Feels at the moment. Feels warmth in his chest for the man currently wrapping his lips around him.

They are both changed in their pajamas when there's a knock at the door.

“It's your turn to get it.”

Dan doesn't look up from his phone. He is finalizing their plans with PJ and Sophie. They have been trying to reach each other all day and since he finally was able to catch them, he's not letting down that easy. Oh, and it is his turn though.

Phil grabs his wallet and opens the door. The delivery man is holding a bunch of bags with take out boxes inside.

“How many people are you feeding mate?”

“Just two.”

“Good luck.”

Phil chuckles a bit as he hands the man his cash. The man counts the money as he hands the bags over to Phil.

“You have an extra £15 here.”

“Keep the change.”

The man gives an awkward but appreciative smile. Phil gives one back. He shuts the door and tries not to trip over their bags and spill food all over the room. Phil sets the bags on the bed and Dan starts to open them. Phil takes out some of the plastic utensils out from the bottom of the bags. They throw (or try to) the plastic bags into a pile on the floor.

“Phil wait.”

“What is it?”

“Can you take a picture? For Instagram real quick?”

Phil takes Dan’s phone from the bed and goes into Instagram.

“For your story or an actual post?”

“Story.”

Dan crosses his legs and does the prayer hands. Phil smiles and rolls his eyes at his boyfriend. He snaps the picture and hands it over to Dan. He types in the caption. He really does feel hopeful about this tour. He is super excited about it and he feels thankful that Phil here doing this with him. That's why when he adds in the “ty ly bb” he doesn't think twice about it. He's just caught up in his head. Besides he wants to be more open about his sexuality and relationship to his audience. Is that such a bad thing? Phil opens his own phone to see what Dan wrote.

“Dan you do realize what you just wrote right?”

Phil hands his phone over to Dan. His eyes land on the last comment, in the bottom right-hand corner.

“Fuck.”

The fans are going to react in one of two ways. One is thinking its a cute little nod to Phil (since like everyone knows they are together at this point.) Two is trying to deny it as much as possible and think the “bb” is just directed to either the delivery man or the people at the show.

“Dan you can just delete it.”

“Do you want me to delete it?”

“Only if you want to.”

Dan looks at it again. Its been posted for what one minute? Not even? Dan looks at the number of people who've seen it so far. A couple hundred. Those couple hundred people could have it posted all over every other social media site by now. You know what? Dan doesn't care anymore. He wants to be free and be himself without his audience dragging him down. He keeps the picture up.

“I wanna keep it.”

Dan says as he's taking a piece of pita bread and dipping it into the hummus. Phil opens the container with the vegetables inside.

“Okay.”

Phil gets a fork and starts to dig in. They just eat in silence for a little bit. Too hungry to stop and chat. Then Phil picks up one of the sausages and starts to eat it. Dan starts laughing.

“What?”

“Phil you're practically giving it a blowjob.”

“Dan you're actually a 12-year-old.”

“But if I remember correctly you were doing just that about an hour ago.”

Phil takes the half eaten sausage and puts on a show for Dan- just to tease him. He starts laughing again. Fuck. Phil would do anything to hear Dans laugh. It's beautiful. It's not like that's the whole reason Phil is pretending to deepthroat a piece of meat or anything.

“Is it bad that that's kinda turning me on right now?”

“Dan I think you have a problem, you and your sex addiction.”

“Yea but in this case, you would have one too considering I need you to have sex.”

“Yea but I'm not the one that's constantly bringing sex up.”

“Touche.”

They continue to eat most of their food. They put the uneaten cuisine in one box and clean up. They both lie back down on the bed and Phil cuddles closer to Dan.

“Dan?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you play me a song on your keyboard?”

“Sure.”

He rolls over to the edge of the bed and takes it out. He plugs it into the wall and turns it on.

“What song did ya have in mind?”

“Unintended by Muse.”

“You're such a fucking sap you know that right?”

“So are you. Besides it relaxes me. Helps calm me down.”

“Whatever you say Mr. We-should-maybe-play-this-at-our-not-so-distant-wedding.”

Phil smiles and shuffles closer. Dan cracks his knuckles and starts to play. His fingers dance on the keys as his feet lightly tap to the beat. He starts to sing softly. The way you would sing to a baby, trying to get it to fall asleep.

“You could be my unintended. Choice to live my life extended. You could be the one I always love. You could be the one who listens to my deepest inquisitions. You could be the one I always love. I’ll be there as soon as I can but i'm busy mending the pieces of the life I had before.”

Phil closes his eyes in contentment as Dan serenades him. He sings the way you would sing to a baby, trying to get it to fall asleep. It's beautiful. He feels so relaxed. Feels so loved. Feels so important. He cuts Dan off by kissing him softly on the lips. It takes Dan by surprise because he was so focused on looking at his hands while playing.

“What was that about?”

Dan asks in a soft voice. The same voice he was just singing in.

“I just love you.”

Dan smiles at him.

“Love you too.”

They are both snuggled under the covers. Phil is laying his head on Dan's chest. He feels so warm. Between the blanket, their shared body heat and Dan's general constantly warm like a space heater-ness, it's almost too warm.

Almost.

Dans starting to drift off when Phil speaks.

“Dan?”

“Yeah?”

“I'm really proud of you.”

“Of what?”

“Everything.”

There's a pause before speaks again.

“Dan?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Phil tries (and fails) to bury his head deeper in Dan's chest. He wants to be as close to him as possible. He knows he physically is but this somehow isn't enough. Doesn't feel like enough. When Dan puts his hand and plays with Phil's hair? That's enough. How the fuck does Dan know what Phil needs and when he needs it? Phil will never know. The only thing Phil can do is the same for Dan. To be there when he needs him and cuddle him when he's sad or talk to him when he feels like speaking. Whether it's something important or funny or anything he will be there for Dan.

And that's exactly what he's going to do.

#greek food in hotel rooms #phan #dan and phil #tour fic #interactive intoverts #my fic #mine #text

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heartslogos · 6 years ago

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the unclassified texts of the inquisiton’s elite [5]

(518): I'm really stressed out right now.

(1-518): I think you're confusing "stressed" and "sober".

(508): My manager gave me an envelope with money in it before he had vacation, and when I asked what it was for, he said it will be his bail money.

“No, no,” Dorian says, turning to Ellana and showing her his phone, “I definitely mean stressed. Why does everyone assume sober?”

“Because your a severely depressed alcoholic?” Ellana replies. Only Ellana has the ability to say something incredibly deep, true, and somewhat sensitive so plainly without it becoming something a person turns defensive about.

And Dorian is very sensitive about his semi-acknowledge alcoholism. As Evelyn says it, he chases answers and vindication at the bottom of a bottle when he doesn’t like the answers he already has and she’s not wrong exactly but he’s also, again, a touch defensive about it. There are some good answers to be found at the bottom of a bottle. Depending on the bottle.

“I know the difference between being stressed and not being buzzed,” Dorian says, “And if we’re being perfectly frank then we all know I’m not a very happy drunk.”

“No, but you are a very pointedly vivacious and spiteful person once you have about three or four drinks in you,” Ellana retorts. “And I know you know the difference between stressed and sober, I’m pretty sure most of us know that. You just don’t handle stress sober very well. Unless it’s academic, of course. You handle everything pertaining to academics quite beautifully. It’s the other things you fall apart over.”

“I’m leaving this conversation,” Dorian tells her, “And opening the door to a different conversation. Would you care to join me?”

The wonderful thing about Ellana Lavellan is that she might know all the places to stick her fingers in and dig and twist and rip, and she will if you give her the chance, but if you plainly tell her that you aren’t in for the mood for that sort of heart-rending she’ll back off easy. She won’t forget it, god she forgets nothing, but she also won’t push it.

“So what are you stressed out about? Your current research on lyrium effects on decaying matter can’t really be worked on for another few weeks so that can’t be it. No one we know is in any particularly juicy spat. I don’t know if anyone’s been seriously injured recently because I, myself, just got off of medical leave and am finally free to not be under Stitches’ very stern thumb. This is literally my introduction back into society, you being stressed.”

“Sorry,” Dorian apologizes, “Was my place really the only place you could think of to crash after leaving medical?”

“Your room is far away enough from everyone else’s that they probably won’t make the effort of coming over to check on me, Bull trusts you enough not to bug you if he thinks I’m here, and de Fer’s rooms are like. Five doors down and no one bothers her after eleven unless it’s by express invitation. I still don’t know why the two of you are in the same building, but it works when I need a deterrent.”

“That’s a frighteningly astute observation of dynamics,” Dorian says after a brief moment of digesting all of this analysis. “I don’t know if the Iron Bull is rubbing off on you or if you’re just being more honest about things.”

Ellana just smiles at him, “So. Why are you stressed?”

And sometimes she’s just like a dog with a bone and it’s terrifying.

Dorian sighs, “Can we get breakfast first?”

“You have a kitchenette,” Ellana says, “I brought groceries over last night when you were banging your head on the table and texting Herah. I’ll make you breakfast but you’re going to talk.”

“Why is Bull giving you his bail money instead of me?” Ellana asks Krem who gives her the packet of cash. “Seems like a rather long way around.”

“Probably because he doesn’t want you to find out he’s planning to start shit,” Krem replies. “You might punish him by spending it on milk tea or pizza.”

“That’s a lot of milk tea and a lot of pizza to be had,” Ellana muses. “And I wouldn’t do that. I have other ways of making sure he knows I’m not happy with him starting shit on purpose.”

“Right,” Krem says, “Anyway. I’m giving you this because I’m also going on vacation. By which I mean, like the Chief, I’ve been assigned to a mission that takes me far away from here while de Fer and Pavus continue their feud.”

“This is wonderful and an amazing opportunity for blackmail material,” Ellana says, “I don’t know why everyone is so eager to jump ship on this.”

“Because I don’t want to end up on either of their bad sides. Not everyone is as unnaturally charismatic as you are,” Krem says.

Ellana grins, “Aw, you say the sweetest things, Krem.”

“I say that with a strong an every healthy amount of fear and respect, Lavellan,” Krem replies. “Seriously. It’s uncanny. Anyway, the Chief’s assignment took him to the southern border of Orlais and I’m heading out to the east coast of Ferelden so I don’t think I’d be able to wire this to him if he gets in trouble. I’d give it to Montilyet or Trevelyan but they might haul him back here and I’d get in trouble for being a snitch.”

Ellana fans herself with the packet of money, “Don’t worry. These lips are sealed for the low, low cost of your flattery. Good luck on your trip. Who else is going?”

“Rocky, Sera, Kaaras, Varric,” Krem ticks off on his fingers, “Something about wildlife samples. I don’t know why Sera and Varric are going because they hate anything that can’t classify, at the very least, as suburbs. They must be super desperate to get out of here.”

“Again, I don’t know why. Did you see what Dorian did the other day? The sheer amount of paisley he worked in was glorious and I think I peed a little laughing.”

“I think everyone else just, spiritually and maybe physically, peed out of fear of retribution,” Krem replies. “The only ones left here are at this rate going to be you and Montilyet - you because you like watching a wreck in motion and Montilyet because she has to be here.”

“Honestly, I’m surprised Leliana isn’t staying for this,” Ellana says. “It’s right up her alley.”

“Maybe she has a functioning sense of danger?”

“Rude. I have that. This just isn’t danger.”

“Again. She has a functioning sense of danger. I’m going to go finish packing, I just wanted to make sure I got that to you before I left. Don’t tell the Chief I gave it to you. If I’m back before he is I’ll pick it up so it’s like he’ll never have to know.”

#heartsfic #gather your party and venture forth

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worldknowshername · 7 years ago

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Mix Tape!

send “mix tape” for my muse to make a list of 5 songs that they think explain how they feel for your muse | always accepting tbh

Shake It Out - Florence + The MachineAnd I’m damned if I do and I’m damned if I don’tSo here’s to drinks in the dark at the end of my ropeAnd I’m ready to suffer and I’m ready to hopeIt’s a shot in the dark aimed right at my throat‘Cause looking for heaven found the devil in meBut what the hell? I’m going to let it happen to me

Wonderwall - OasisToday is going to be the day that they’re going to throw it back to youBy now you should’ve somehow realized what you gotta doI don’t believe that anybody feels the way I do about you now...And all the roads we have to walk are windingAnd all the lights that lead us there are blindingThere are many things that I would like to say to youBut I don’t know howI said maybe you’re going to be the one that saves meAnd after all, you’re my wonderwall

Some Nights - fun.Some nights I stay up cashing in my bad luckSome nights I call it a drawSome nights I wish that my lips could build a castleSome nights I wish they’d just fall offBut I still wake up, I still see your ghostOh, lord, I’m still not sure what I stand forWhat do I stand for? What do I stand for?Most nights I don’t know anymore

Glory and Gore - LordeYou’ve been drinking like the world was going to end (it didn’t)Took a shiner from the fist of your best friend (go figure)We mean it but I promise we’re not mean...You could try and take us, but we’re the gladiatorsEvery one a rager, but secretly they’re saviorsGlory and gore go hand-in-handThat’s why we’re making headlinesYou could try and take us, but victory’s contagious

Anything Could Happen - Elle GouldingAfter the war, we said we’d fight togetherI guess we thought that’s just what humans doLetting darkness growAs if we need it’s boundaries and we need it’s coverBut now I’ve seen it through and now I know the truthThat anything could happen...Baby, I’ll give you everything you needI’ll give you everything you need, ohI’ll give you everything you needBut I don’t think I need you

#thatlastpartsthecatholicism #| t b h #it's more a collection of random moods #than concrete feelings #bc? platonic songs are hard

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selenekallanwriter · 5 years ago

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CHAPTER 1

DAHLIA

Night was falling.

I looked out the bus window, not really seeing anything; my mind was still reeling with memories of what happened that afternoon. Despite my damp hoodie and jeans, I wasn’t cold. Nick had his arm around my shoulders, pressing me against his warm body. I ventured a look to his face, his skin was pale, hazel eyes lost. He was more numb than me; the rage had turned into shock.

How else could he feel?

To know his adoptive brother and cousin—David—had murdered the first girl he’d ever loved while almost killing me was bad enough.

Things got worse when we discovered that his aunt—and adoptive mother—Sarah, had known the truth and hid it from him. And everything had gone to hell when his entire family had turned against me. Just because I am different.

Well, maybe different is a bit of an understatement.

A supernatural hybrid creature who feeds on the life-force and energy of others to survive would be more accurate. A succubus, half-vampire. That vampire half made Nick’s family want to tear me apart, quite literally since they were lycanthropes. Turns out movies weren’t that off. Some vampires and lycanthropes hate each other and make their life goal to chase and murder one another. One more testament to my rotten luck was that I had to run into 3 of them.

It didn’t have to be that way, Nick was also a lycanthrope, and he had learned to accept me despite the prejudices. He’d seen me as a friend and not a monster. Together we had learned that most of what he believed about my kind were lies. Eventually, friendship and understanding had turned into something stronger, something dangerous for both of us and those I cared for—my human adoptive family, Jenna, Cassie, and Brian. Innocent to the reality of my true nature. What would Jenna think when days went by and I didn’t return home?

The bus shook as it stopped; Nick straightened, blinking back into focus. His eyes looking for mine as the numbness faded, his emotions a turmoil much like mine. The other passengers were getting out of the bus.

I squeezed his warm hand. “We should get going.”

He swallowed hard and nodded, sliding his arm off my shoulders to take my hand and guide me to walk behind him. Always protecting me, even though he was fully aware of my powers.

“Wait,” I said. The smell of smog and the noise of the vehicles welcomed us as we stepped outside. “We should walk to the train station.”

He turned to me, his athletic 6-foot-3 frame towering over me. “I don’t have enough cash with me to pay for train tickets.”

I felt his anger and shame when admitting that. We had run away with nothing more than our mud-stained clothes and barely enough money to pay for the bus ride.

“I know,” I assured him. “I have a bag with some cash and clothes stashed in the train station.”

He nodded, and we made our way through the busy streets. His nervous vigilance of our surroundings echoed mine through our tangled fingers. I was an Empath, able to sense the moods and intentions of anyone around me; touch amplified that power. One of my several powers.

“Where were you planning to go?” I asked, hating the silence.

His mouth twitched. “I hadn’t planned that far ahead, to be honest. I just feel… restless.” He looked at me, attempting a faint smile. “But I’m sure you already knew that.”

My smile faltered too.

We walked hastily to the train station. The buzz of the many emotions surrounding me made me uneasy. I hated crowded places with a passion. The inside of the station was worse than the streets, and my stomach knotted. Nick let go of my hand, squeezing my shoulder reassuringly, allowing me to lead the way.

He stood beside me vigilantly while I fidgeted with the combination to open the locker. I felt sweet relief when I saw my bag there, as I had left it. Many months before I had considered running away, leaving my adoptive family behind—fearing to hurt them. But something had stopped me, and I had stayed in the small town of Lakeport with them.

“Ready,” I said once I had retrieved my belongings.

Nick nodded, leading us outside with his hand in mine. His uncertainty and despair echoed mine, rising and falling like waves in the ocean.

“I think it might be a good idea to rest,” he said. We stood on the sidewalk moving aside from the crowded entrance. “We need to clear our heads.”

“Just what I was thinking,” I admitted. “We can check into a hotel nearby and get a shower and some sleep.”

“How are you feeling? I should have asked before,” Nick whispered, taking my chin in his hand. He examined my right cheekbone, the one that had David had cracked a few hours before.

An involuntary shiver ran through me as I remembered how David had kicked me until several of my ribs broke. “Completely healed.”

Nick cocked a brow. “Dahlia.”

I sighed, he knew me too well for my sake. “A minor discomfort, nothing I can’t handle.”

He traced his thumb on my chin, and the world disappeared from sight. He had chosen me over his family, risked his life to save me. I had only one word for the feeling that bubbled between us, overpowering the raging fears and concern.

He leaned forward and pressed his warm lips on my forehead. “Let’s go.”

His warm breath tickled over my cool skin as I looked up at him. “Okay.”

The receptionist had given us a once over until I paid in cash. The hotel wasn’t exactly fancy, but it was good, and we looked like hell. The cream-colored room was simple, with two single beds, a bathroom, and a window instead of a balcony.

I dropped the bag on the bed near the door.

“Take the one further from the door,” Nick said. “Just in case.”

Just in case a bunch of crazy lycans tried to kill us.

“Okay,” I moved to the other bed and opened the bag, offering him one of my oversize hoodies.

He took it, looking at his green, mud-stained shirt. “Thanks.”

“You go first,” I suggested pointing to the bathroom. He agreed wordlessly and closed the bathroom door behind him.

I let myself fall back on the bed, closing my eyes as I expanded my senses, looking for impending danger. I regretted it when my empathy amplified more than usual, giving me more information than necessary. A depressed female presence, a couple having sex, guilty sex at that which led me to believe they were having an affair.

Satisfied with knowing there was no danger, and disturbed by the sharpening of my power, I willed myself to focus back on us.

My heart raced as I felt Nick’s anger and sorrow reach new levels.

NICK

The warm water did little to ease my tense muscles.

Every time I closed my eyes, flashes of memories I’d try to bury for months clouded my thoughts. Katie, the human girl I had loved broken and dead in my arms, David’s disdainful smile when I was mourning her at the funeral. His petty commentaries about how I needed to get over it. And worse than that, Sarah echoing the same, trying to force me to forget Katie, knowing her own son had killed her.

I restrained myself from hitting the tile wall, knowing I would end up making a hole in it. How could Sarah do that? A woman I had considered a mother. How could both she and Cal let David get away with murdering a 16-year-old girl? Why was David so hellbent on killing those I love?

If I hadn’t pulled him off Dahlia early that afternoon… Dahlia was strong, and a decent fighter, but not a match for a lycanthrope with years of training and brutal strength. Not even I was a match for David. We took him down together; I doubted we could’ve done so separately.

“We will have plenty of time to kill it,” Sarah had snarled, referring to Dahlia.

Never. I would rather die right than before allowing them to hurt her.

I did my best to wash the green shirt in the sink. Putting on my black jeans and Dahlia’s black hoodie before stepping out.

She was sitting on the bed waiting for me, her sapphire eyes wide with worry. With her usual fluid moves, she got up and walked to stand in front of me. I pulled her close, resting my chin on the top of her head. She sighed against my chest. The pain eased when I held her in my arms, my heartbeat synchronizing with hers. The only one I could trust, my only friend.

“I’m sorry,” she said. Her melodic voice breaking.

I took her chin, prodding her to her look at me. “This is not your fault, it’s theirs and no one else’s.”

Her elegant features contorted in sadness.

She nodded and moved to get some clothes out of her black bag before entering the bathroom. I ran my fingers through my hair, sitting on the bed by the door. What were we going to do? Where would we be safe? We couldn’t go too far, we needed to make sure Dahlia’s very human adoptive family remained safe.

My eyes landed on Dahlia’s bag, wondering what she had stored there.

“Go ahead, have a look,” came her voice from the shower.

I felt a smile tug on my lips. Her empathy made it difficult to hide anything. It was almost as good as if she could read my mind.

There were some clothes, a taser, and a pair of black tennis shoes in the biggest pocket. I opened the next zipper and my jaw dropped when I saw the amount of cash stored there.

“Did you rob a bank?” I half-joked.

“Not exactly,” she replied, the water was still running. “It’s only a minor part of what mom left for me.”

The grief was clear as day in her voice. Her mother had died a few years back in a car crash; Dahlia would have died too if it weren’t for her vampire side.

Her immortal heritage.

Eager to distract myself, I counted the money; she’d tied with elastic bands in thick rolls. Different denominations. A little over $50.000.

“What did your mother do for a living?” I mused, she heard me nevertheless. The shower was turned off now.

“She was an artist, drawing, painting, she also wrote her own music.”

I lifted my head as the door opened. Dahlia was drying her short dark hair with a towel, her eyes glazed and sad.

“She also gave music lessons, persuading even the less invested kids to learn to play the piano,” her full lips lifted in a sad smile. “She made time to volunteer in a dog shelter.”

She shook her head, closing the bathroom door to sit beside me. “Being honest, I don’t know where the money came from, family inheritance was the answer I got the few times I asked.”

I closed the bag, tossing it by the nightstand; wrapping my arm around her waist.

She leaned against my shoulder with a lengthy sigh. “I can’t help but wonder if Jenna and the kids are safe,.What if your family doesn’t buy your threat?”

To keep Dahlia and her adoptive family safe, I’d threatened Cal, Sarah, and David with contacting the Jaeger—human lunatics who hunt down supernatural beings in the name of protecting humans from “demons”. A load of shit they made up centuries ago to feel better about being murderers.

I moved a lock of her hair behind her ear, the blonde roots were showing. “Cal and Sarah know I can find the hunters, there’s a sizeable group of them camouflaged as a religious congregation. One call to the hunters pretending I’m a scared human, and they’re screwed.”

“Have you ever ran into one of them?” Dahlia asked, searching for my eyes.

I swallowed, a shower of memories making way in my already troubled mind. “Yes. A group of those bastards tried to kill my real parents once. Others succeeded.”

Dahlia gasped, her eyes widening.

“We were living in this tiny village in the middle of the forest, a few human families who worked on woodcutting like father lived nearby.” Rage bubbled up, remembering. “They didn’t care if the humans fell to, they burned much of the forest and the homes trying to get us. Mom and dad stopped them and save the families. But it was awful.”

I felt Dahlia’s anger echo mine. “I’m so sorry. How old were you?”

I sighed. “3, it was one year before they died.”

Dahlia blinked, her brow furrowing. “I can remember with full clarity things that happened when I was 1-year-old, a supernatural trait I assume?”

I nodded, her eyes questioning, I knew what she didn’t want to ask aloud. “One year later the hunters killed them. In front of me. Sarah, Cal and the others saved me, but didn’t get there in time to save them.”

She caressed my cheek. There was no need for words. She tried and failed to stifle a yawn; I followed.

“Off to bed, you need to rest.”

“So do you,” she replied.

I shook my head. “I should stand guard.”

She pursed her lips. “I don’t think it’s necessary. If something is off, I’ll feel it even in my sleep.”

I was going to argue, but she cut me off. “You need to sleep too.”

She was right; I was more tired than usual and slightly sore. A sign that soon I would go through the change, becoming a complete lycanthrope. A thought I didn’t want to dwell on.

“Okay,” I relented.

We got up, she slid inside the covers; I tucked her in.

She blushed, biting her lip. “Nick? I don’t want to sleep alone.”

“Me neither,” I confessed. I turned the lights off, Dahlia’s eyes slightly shining in the darkness.

I got under the covers, her head resting on my shoulder, my arm around her waist.

“Goodnight,” I murmured, kissing the top of her head.

“Goodnight,” she whispered, placing her arm across my stomach.

______________________________________________________________

PRE-ORDER MMONLIGHT HERE: https://amzn.to/2ADrrf6

#kindle #paranormal romance #supernatural romance #lycan #vampire #mustread #paranormal fantasy #immortalheritage #book excerpt

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cmcrson-blog · 7 years ago

Text

WHATS UP Y’ALL ITS YA BITCH NICKI AGAIN N IM SO EXCITED TO INTRODUCE YOU TO MY SOFT LIL FIGHTER BABY EMERSON WHO I LOVE V MUCH AND I HOPE YALL WILL TOO. LIKE THIS N ILL COME TO U FOR PLOTS (for both her n mack if we havent already!!)

ABOUT EMERSON

TW VIOLENCE AND FIGHTING

EMERSON BLACKWOOD. 20. ENGLISH LIT MAJOR. PISCES. WEREWOLF. COULD PROBABLY SNAP UR SPINE LIKE A TOOTHPICK BUT REALLY JUST WANTS TO CUDDLE.

ok so while most, if not all, the students at hexlore were raised supernatural, em wasn't

emerson was actually born human and had a perfectly normal childhood up until around the age of 15

for reasons she doesn't readily talk about, she was hexed by a very powerful witch with the lycanthropy curse

her parents and siblings obviously didnt believe her, so when she transformed one night unexpectedly, they ended up thinking she was a wild wolf who had gotten into the house and killed her. they attacked her and she was left within an inch of her life before she could escape

she would have died that night if it weren't for pure luck that a travelling pack was passing through the wooded area where she had ended up collapsing. they stayed there with her for the night and healed her up, taking her in and initiating her into their pack. with nothing left to lose and a spirit as broken as hers, she accepted it and left with them.

not only did she join a big pack, she joined a freaking strong one, and as the newest recruit she was the runt of the group. she felt more like a burden than an actual pack member, so she began to train in order to earn her place

though they were a wandering pack, they'd stop in cities long enough for her and the other minors in the pack to be able to finish a solid school year, and in each new city, em would become a permanent fixture at their local gym. every day, she was there, working on getting stronger and more powerful and being able to prove herself. too swole to control bro

all the bullshit she had gone through ignited something within her, something equal parts destructive and encouraging. her pain transformed itself into pure, unfiltered rage, which has become the staple of emerson's personality

first off— she is (thankfully) the OPPOSITE of mack's dumb ass lmaooo

she’s really reserved and not very outgoing (just a lil shy..... wow how cute). she’s this tol cute bean with this long curly hair and these big blue eyes so she’s not exactly unapproachable but she’s also buff as FUQ and has this mysterious, enigmatic energy to her and tbh that makes her lowkey scary to approach

esp also considering that she’s almost ALWAYS got a black eye or bloodied knuckles or bruises scattering her body, she kinda looks terrifying and like she might try to snap ur arm in half

she’s honestly a super sweet soft soul, she genuinely is just bubbling with kindness and good intentions but she tries to keep her distance from the world bc oh dear

emerson has a fucking TEMPER

and it’s not the “i’ll snap and be petty” it’s a “i won’t react until you keep pushing my buttons and then i’ll fucking snap and smash a table in half, punch a hole in the wall, and say a LOT of things i’ll regret”

she recognizes how dangerous and harmful this pent up aggression and rage is so she genuinely tries to keep it under check by withdrawing from a lot of over-stimulating situations and environments

she’s that bitch™ who’s always like “i...... i should go....”

you would expect her to be this angry cynical bitch but honestly?? she keeps the anger beneath the surface tbh she’s really sweet and gentle. she’s also like.... a hopeless romantic and believes in being kind to the world and she’s SUCH A GOOD ARTIST but her main passion is honestly fighting so that’s why she hasn’t dropped it entirely despite how dangerous it is

she’s really scared that one of these days, her feelings are just gonna shut down and she’ll lose her humanity and get consumed my her own darkness and just become this awful angry monster of a person, which is why she tries SO DAMN HARD to be kind and gentle and good

(lowkey she’s gonna turn it off eventually for a hot minute bc i def want to play dark!emerson at some point HKJFHKHF)

also.... she’s loyal to a fucking FAULT nd would prob take a bullet for her loved ones. its altruism at its finest with this one. she’s also pretty softspoken but definitely stands up for what’s right, she won’t hesitate to literally snap ur fucking femur if you’re fucking with someone you shouldn’t be

on that note— she’s STRONG. like almost excessively strong, partially bc of her training 24/7, also partially bc her anger fuels her additional strength. but like.... she has the potential to honestly be an alpha if she really pushed herself

if i had to compare her to some characters from modern media..... stefan salvatore, the iron giant, scott mccall??

tldr: basically a big dreamy beefcake with anger issues who could probably snap u in half if u fuck with her loved ones. also has a sad past but is tryna turn her shit around without hurting anyone in the process which makes her reserved n secretive oh nooo

WANTED CONNECTIONS

crushes: one sided, mutual, lowkey, highkey infatuation, pls just give em the ability to be cute and sweet but also sometimes a bumbling fool

i want a plot where em admires someone from afar and is just like.... soft n always leaves them flowers or draws them in her little sketchbook

besties: emerson literally goes along w everything thus making her a valuable member to any and all squads. she’s also versatile, she can go from being that art nerd friend to that jock/fighter friend to that mom friend to that innocent friend to that leader friend. literally give my puppy of a person some buds pls

fighting plots: people who help her train, people who want her to stop, a love interest who bandages her up every time after a bad fight, anything pls

guardian: someone em looks out for fiercely and protectively or someone who looks out for her too n checks up on her when she has her bad moments

exes: she’s demisexual & demiromantic so she only starts to fall for people that she’s gotten to know or at least knows about. i really want an ex (or a few??) that were super cute and sweet when they dated but then em just kinda ended things out of nowhere? maybe she ghosted them, broke up over text, literally so out of nowhere and ur muse doesnt know why??? but it’s actually because em was too scared she’d end up hurting them so she ended things as a preemptive move to protect everyone

coworkers/customers: she works on campus somewhere bc she needs that cash money (im thinkin library) so i’d love a few plots of either people who work with her or people she sees constantly bc theyre always coming in??

“but nicki,” u may be asking, “where’s the fwb plots??”

SURPRISE BITCH EMERSON’S A V I R G I N

considering that mack is a heathen who prob has enough sex for the both of them i wanted to make emerson way more inexperienced since this bitch doesn’t like to get too attached to ppl

which means new potential wanted connection: her first time

#sapphic.intro #❛ planet god damn ❜ — OOC

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darkhymns-fic · 8 years ago

Text

Beginner’s Luck

Zelos takes his friends out for a night at the casino. Things go as well as you expect.

Fandom: Tales of Symphonia Characters: Lloyd Irving, Colette Brunel, Zelos Wilder, Genis Sage Rating: G Mirror Links: AO3, FF.net Notes: Written after playing TOS on steam - the casino minigames in paticular. My boyfriend was doing good as Lloyd with the blackjack game, and the image of Lloyd playing it was too fun. Also I'll make something nice for Zelos someday, promise.

“Now watch, my hunnies, as I clear this place out!”

It was unclear as to who Zelos was ultimately talking to. The only girl in the group was Colette, who was busy being entranced by the fancy displays in the casino. Lloyd was there too, also more enraptured than his country-living brain could handle. Genis, the only one unfortunate enough to fully pay attention to the Tethe’allan Chosen, just sighed.

“So you’re gonna hit on every girl to the point that they leave?”

Zelos glared at the kid with a sneer. “Ha, very funny, brat. But hey, I’m feeling pretty generous, so I’m gonna show you uncivilized barbarians a few tricks to racking up the cash here.”

Lloyd seemed to have finally heard Zelos’ voice. “Can you stop it with the barbarian crap?”

“This place is so bright!” Colette commented, lost in her own world. “But, um, are we allowed to be here? The sign said only people who are 21 can enter…”

“Angel cakes, you worry too much. With me around, you guys are basically getting a free pass!”

“Is Regal even okay with this?” Genis asked aloud.

He, of course, received no answer. With a flourish, Zelos tried to get his under-aged friends to explore the entirety of the casino. There were these giant machines to the right, where the middle of them would spin a fantastic array of colors and shapes. A few people kept pulling at a lever, holding plastic cups in their hands. To the left was a table, where a device called a ‘Roulette’ by Zelos was also spinning frantically to a random number. At each corner were the casino employees – young women dressed in a black leotard and bunny ears that Colette found to be so cute.

“So, these are games?” Lloyd asked, looking around as much as possible and barely understanding any of it.

“That’s right, my slow friend. Altamira has the best night life around. Guys and gals who don’t know what to do with their money and looking for some high thrills come here!” Zelos flicked back his red hair, posing for his oh so lucky companions. “I’m practically a shark around these parts, you know. Chips just fall into my lap like no problem!”

Colette blinked in wonder. “Wow, Zelos. You don’t seem to have sharp teeth like a shark though!”

“Nah, but he certainly has the face of one,” Genis replied with perfect understanding.

Zelos nearly stumbled. “Kid, don’t kill my groove.”

“What’s that?” Lloyd pointed to one table, where a blonde-haired employee was shuffling some cards, almost too quick for the eye to follow.

“Blackjack. Usually, that stuff’s too easy, but I guess I’ll show you how it works!”

“Oh! Is it like Go Fish?” Colette clapped her hands. “I love that game!”

“Nah, this is a bit more advanced than that…”

“Oh my! Chosen One!” The bunny employee smiled prettily. “Will you be playing a game with us today?”

Zelos, with a swagger in his step, leaned forward on the table. His smile was a practiced gleam. “Sure thing! I’m feeling pretty lucky. Know what I mean?”

“Haha, perhaps you truly are lucky,” the girl purred, then placed the cards on the table. “Only one way to find out!”

“So, you free tonight or-?”

“Please pick a card from the deck, sir!”

Genis snickered. “Still a charmer.”

Zelos chose to ignore the kid. “Got this in the bag.” He sat on the stool, cooly putting down one chip on the table. “Ready when you are, babe.”

Lloyd raised an eyebrow. “What? You’re just betting one chip?”

“Bud, these things cost like 500 Gald a chip. Cut me a break here.”

The dealer placed the chip in the center, then proceeded to cut the cards with deft precision. “I hope you will go easy on me, Chosen,” she said graciously.

“Well, can’t make any promises. Gotta look good in front of my loyal fans!”

Genis and Lloyd looked thoroughly unimpressed at that, but Colette seemed excited. She clapped her hands. “I know you can do it, Zelos!”

Another swift card shuffle, then the dealer placed the deck at an even distance from both her and Zelos. She dealt him a card, then she dealt herself one.

Lloyd was already getting bored and was looking back at the spinning machines. Genis was openly judging, and Colette was awestruck.

The dealer smiled at Zelos’ card. “Not a bad start!”

Zelos crossed his leg with confidence. “Yeah, I’m just a natural at this.”

“You only have a 4,” Genis uttered.

He was dealt another card, then the dealer dealt her own, but this one face-down. “What would you like to do now, Chosen?”

Genis was staring at the two cards. “Yeah, I don’t think-“

“Staying with my hand, baby!”

“What? You only have a sum of 12!” The boy was glaring at the Chosen openly. “The heck are you doing?”

“Look, brat, trust me. No matter what I do, I’m winning this thing.” Zelos shrugged, then laughed as he leaned back dangerously on his stool. “Ya think they would ever make the beautiful Chosen here lose?”

“Dealer wins! Player loses!”

“Wait, wha-” Zelos slipped his butt right off the stool and onto the floor, neatly hitting his forehead on the table edge. His two cards were no match for the perfect 21 sum of the dealer’s.

Hearing the guy’s cry of dismay, Lloyd turned back to him with full attention. “Oh, are you already done?”

The dealer took the single chip with a bright smile. “Thank you so much for playing! Would you like another game?”

Zelos rubbed a hand against the forming bruise, though there wasn’t much he could do to nurse his pride back. “Hey, uh, babe, whatever happened to the other girl that was here actually? I think her name was Sarah-”

“Oh, yes, she got fired!” The dealer nodded quite enthusiastically about it. “She kept giving freebies to the players!”

“Oh…” Zelos turned around. “Well, this place blows. Let’s go!”

“Yeah, guess your luck’s ran out, huh?”

“Kid, one more word out of you, and I swear that you’re getting a wedgie.”

Colette was still looking at the cards. “Hm, this actually looks a bit easier than Go Fish. Can I try?”

Lloyd was suddenly much more interested. “Hey, yeah, I wanna see!”

The dealer tilted her head questioningly. “Do you have a license? I’m sorry but only adults are allowed to play.”

“Oh, that’s right…” Colette then held up one of the same plastic cups other casino-goers were carrying, this one filled about half-way with chips. “Do you know who I can give this too, then?”

“…Colette, how did you get one of those?” Genis asked.

“I tripped over someone… and then suddenly I had this! I tried to find them, but they already left, I think.”

“Are you saying you just used your item thief move on somebody by accident?”

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to!”

“Hey, that’s okay,” Lloyd reassured. “Also, we got free chips!”

“Lloyd!” Genis glared at him. “What about that whole ‘lying is the first step to the path of thievery’ thing you keep saying?”

“Oh! Uhh…” Lloyd clearly struggled with this, but then he smiled at Genis. “But Colette didn’t lie! So it’s okay!”

“Do you even seriously understand what you’re saying here?”

“Maybe there’s a lost and found somewhere?” Colette mused aloud.

The dealer eyed the chips and then with a gracious smile, beckoned Colette near. “Oh, well if you already have some chips, it would be unfair to not let you use them! Would you like to play, miss?”

Colette was smiling back, Lloyd was excited, and Zelos was still being grumpy about his loss. Genis felt like the only person here with any common sense. “Okay, so you won’t let Zelos win, but you’re okay with letting us play even though we’re not-”

“Please place your bets!”

“Oh! Okay!” Colette gingerly took out five chips and gave them to the dealer. “Um, is this fine?”

“That is perfect, miss!” She took the chips, then cut the cards in order to start the game.

“Colette, do you know how to play?” Genis asked her. He was sure that Zelos didn’t even explain to them how the game worked…

“Mm, I just have to reach 21, right? Or close to it before she does?” Colette nodded. “Yeah, it sounds really simple!”

Lloyd looked nervous. “Wait, so you have to count?”

Once Colette was dealt her two cards, she thought carefully on her next move. “Umm, another one, please!”

“Man, I don’t think I can follow this…”

“You are such a hick, bud! It’s just simple mathematics!”

“Yeah, didn’t you lose just now?”

“…Both you and Genis are being really unnecessarily cruel to me.”

“Wow, these Jack cards are so pretty!” Colette held one up to Genis. “They look like you and the Professor almost!”

Her hand was pretty good, actually. She was already at a value of 20. Zelos was impressed. “Whoa, angel. Think you might win this thing.”

“This is really exciting!” Colette waited patiently as the dealer drew a card, this one also having a nicely drawn picture on it. “Oh, that looks like me!”

“Um…” Genis eyed the dealer’s smile. “That’s not good, Colette. She just took away half of your bet.”

Lloyd was undeterred. “That’s okay! You can still win this!”

Colette opted to stay with her hand, and the dealer drew another card.

“Hey, Lloyd! That looks like you!” she commented happily.

Zelos sighed. “That’s…an instant blackjack.”

Lloyd looked confused. “For Colette?”

“No! For the dealer, dumbass!”

The dealer took away the remaining chips and cards. “Dealer wins! Thanks so much for playing! Would you like another game?”

“That was fun! It’s too bad I lost though…”

“I wanna try next!” Lloyd announced.

“Guys, we’ve already been here for a while,” Genis tried to reason.

“And we could just get our money back if we refund these chips,” Zelos added.

“These aren’t even our chips to begin with!”

But Lloyd and Colette seemed to ignore the argument behind them, both focused on the game. The dealer was only too happy to oblige. “Welcome, young man! You’re most welcome to try a game!”

Lloyd took a handful of chips from Colette’s cups and clumsily dumped it on the table. “I bet this much!”

Colette’s eyes widened. “Wow, is ten chips too much though?”

“Nah, I think I get how this game works!” Lloyd was already seated on the stool in the middle, excitedly gesturing for Colette to sit next to him. “If I lose, we can just switch off or something!”

“That is a very sound strategy, sir! One way to keep your luck fresh!” The dealer shuffled her cards to the eyes of excited country kids, while half-elf and noble playboy verbally duked it out.

“Why’d you even drag us out here? We already see you fail with women on a daily basis!”

“Ha! I’m not even going to take offense to that! I know you’re just jealous that I can talk to any woman on this planet and the next, while you’re still having trouble giving actual rocks to little rosebud.”

“You shut up! We’ll see how much you’re laughing when I tell Sheena what you’ve been-!”

“Player has 21! Player wins!”

Genis and Zelos stared at each other in silence before turning back to the blackjack table. There was Lloyd with a new pile of chips and Colette cheering on his success.

“You won, Lloyd! You’re so cool!”

“Man, that was really easy!” Lloyd scratched the back of his head, laughing.

“Very good! Would you like to play again?” the dealer offered. “Maybe you can win even more!”

With his now twenty-chip pile, Lloyd visibly pondered on that. “Hmm… what do you think, Colette?”

Colette’s feet swung from her stool, also thinking deeply. “It was really fun seeing you play. Maybe one more!”

Lloyd smiled. “Yeah, one more!” He turned back to the dealer. “I wanna play again!”

Genis was still behind them, boggling at how Lloyd had managed to win.

“Tch, just beginner’s luck,” Zelos said. “Next game, he’s gonna lose. Guaranteed!”

Honestly, Genis had just wanted to go to the theater tonight…

“Hit me!”

The dealer dealt Lloyd a card.

“Hit me!”

She dealt him another one.

“Umm… hit me!”

“Lloyd, are you even adding what you have?” Genis asked, entirely seriously, and still entirely confused.

“Yeah, yeah! No problem!” His friend barely paid him any attention, eyes on the cards.

“But you already have 19! You’re going to lose-“

“Instant blackjack!”

Genis stood there, stunned as Lloyd got that strange swordsman card from the deck, granting him the win.

Colette was clapping, eyes bright with wonder. “You’re winning a lot! You must be really lucky!”

“Perhaps the real luck is you, miss.” The dealer gave Lloyd his won chips, her smile on Colette. “Many of our customers like to have a beautiful lady next to them, believing they give them luck.”

“Hey, yeah! You’re the real lucky one, Colette!” said Lloyd, already accepting the narrative. He wrapped an arm around Colette’s shoulder, both of them laughing as he pushed forward another large set of chips. “Play again!”

Zelos had the same stunned expression as Genis, watching this country hick clean house right before his eyes. “I can’t believe what finally gets these two together is through gambling. Of all things.”

“Who cares about that?!” Genis shouted. “This is so stupid! This shouldn’t even be possible!”

“For once, brat, I’m agreeing with you.”

Both Lloyd and Colette leaned in close to the card deck. “Hit me!”

Third card dealt.

“Hit me!”

Fourth card dealt.

“Hit me!”

“A lucky ace!” The dealer smiled, though if one looked at it closely, it seemed strained. “Player wins! …Again!”

“Whoo!” Lloyd pumped his fists in the air, then grabbed Colette in a hug. “This is the best game!”

Genis was ready to tear his hair out by the roots.

“Lloyd never even passed math! How the heck is he winning at a game where you have to count correctly?”

It had been three hours and Lloyd showed no sign of stopping.

“Hit me!” Third card dealt. “Hit me!” Fourth card dealt. “Stay!”

“Dealer has busted. Player wins!”

Zelos and Genis were just sitting on the floor, watching morosely as the simple country boy from Iselia gathered more chips by the minute. Genis couldn’t even begin to fathom how much his friend had won. But at least Lloyd and Colette seemed happy about it.

“Sooo…” Zelos said, leaning his back against the wall of the casino. “Does Lloyd have a gambling problem now?”

Genis scowled. “If he does, then it’s your fault, you know.”

“How was I supposed to know that the guy who’s a fashion disaster is a natural cardshark?”

“You don’t even know what that means!”

“Hit me!” Lloyd was now standing up, fists clenched, eyes on the prize. “Hit me again!”

“Player wins!” the dealer announced, her throat sounding a little raw from all the won games. “Well, sir, you are certainly on a roll tonight.”

Genis watched in growing disappointment. “He’s… not gonna stop anytime soon, is he?”

Zelos shrugged. “Well, little miss angel there certainly ain’t helping.”

Sure enough, Colette was cheering Lloyd on, one hand placed delicately at his shoulder, sometimes interjecting when he should have another card or not. Apparently, her advice was sound, because the dealer pushed forward more chips to join their several small piles.

Genis needed to end this somehow. He stood up. “I’m getting my sister.”

Zelos’ eyes shifted around nervously. “Uh, sure you need to be bringing out the big guns already? I mean, a little gambling now and then never hurt anybody.”

“Zelos, is this the first time you’ve ever even met Lloyd? He doesn’t know the meaning of self-control!”

“So he blows away a couple hundred Gald. It’s a good learning experience- AHH!”

The redhead jumped to his feet, just barely dodging a stray fireball. Genis held out his kendama, his face leaving no room for excuses.

“And you’re coming along for insurance. No way I’m letting you off the hook for starting this whole thing.”

“The hell, kid!? You trying to burn this place down- WHOA!” Zelos dodged again. The fireball dissipated before it could hit the walls of the casino. The patrons never even noticed the brief flash of magic, too immersed in their games.

“You think a genius mage like me would let my magic get out of control? Now hurry up!”

Taking Zelos hostage, Genis marched them both to the front of the casino, hoping to find Raine at the theatre. That was his initial plan until…

“Guys! Glad you’re here.”

Sheena waved them down, standing by the slot machines, looking highly relieved.

“Oh, hey, Sheena. Have you seen my sister actually?” Genis asked, still keeping one eye on Zelos who kept looking for ways to escape.

Sheena gestured behind her. “Yeah, I was coming over to tell you…”

Raine was right there! She had her eyes on the slot machine, though Genis barely paid attention to that detail. “Sis! Hey!” He also didn’t pay attention to how she didn’t turn around to greet him. “Sis, I – we have a problem.”

Raine wasn’t listening. She calmly inserted another chip into the machine and pulled the lever. Blinking lights and colors emitted from its display. The presentation was dazzling, framing her otherwise calm and still figure.

“Um, sis?”

“Not now, Genis,” she finally spoke. Her voice was hovering between the space of teaching mode and sleepiness. “I’m in the zone.”

She inserted another chip, pulled the lever again, and watched the patterns align. Peppy music blared from the machine, though Raine showed little to no reaction to it.

Sheena, who was standing next to her, shrugged. “She’s been like this all night. Once she hit Paradise Mode, she just won’t stop.”

“Oh well,” Zelos interjected. “If the lovely Professor here can also see the beauty in such games, I don’t see why we should-”

Genis smacked the base of his kendama against the Chosen’s side.

“Ow! What the hell!?”

“I’m not dealing with two gambling addicts! She probably heard you were coming here with Lloyd and Colette and look what happened.”

Sheena narrowed her eyes. “Two gambling addicts?” She focused those fierce eyes on Zelos. “What did you do now?”

Zelos gave a long-suffering sigh, nursing his bruise. “Must a guy be punished just for having fun?”

Genis, ignoring the tirade from Sheena that was about to come, was already frantically trying to come up with another solution. Unfortunately, his sister was a lost cause. Who else could they turn to?

Then he knew. The best way to treat a condition was to always get right down to the source…

“Hit me!” Lloyd shouted. His booming voice had become part of the atmosphere in this place. A small crowd had gathered around the table, the other casino-goers curious as to how this young man in the garish red jacket was raking in such a large winning. The game required some skill, but luck played such a huge part. Surely his own would run out?

“Perhaps he’s counting cards,” one aristocrat lady whispered over to her husband. “That would be against the rules, would it not? Just as his choice of clothing should be.”

“It doesn’t seem as if he is doing so,” he whispered back. “Though maybe the girl with him might be able to see into the deck…”

But no one knew for sure, least of all Lloyd and Colette. They were both still riding high on this game of chance.

The dealer dealt the boy a card, then herself one, further busting her hand. “Well! Player wins again!”

“Lloyd, you’ve won so much!” Colette’s face was beaming, seeing all those pretty chips that were now nearly as high as Lloyd’s shoulder!

“Yeah, I know!” Lloyd couldn’t stop grinning, seeing no need to end the game. “Okay, another-!”

“Excuse me.”

The calm tone cut through the ruckus of yammering crowds easily, and even silenced Lloyd’s loud voice in less than a second.

Stumbling, both Lloyd and Colette turned around to find Regal standing behind them. Though he wore his prison clothes, he held his presence as well as his name implied. To his side was Genis and Zelos, the latter looking like he would rather be anywhere but here.

“Oh, hey, Regal!” Lloyd greeted happily. “I was just playing a game! It’s really fun!”

“Yeah! Lloyd is so good at it!” Colette joined in, as oblivious as Lloyd to their predicament. “Are you going to play, too?”

Regal didn’t answer them. His serious gaze was riveted to the blackjack dealer behind them, who was already sweating nervously.

“A-ah! Mr. Bryant! Um, what a pleasure to see you here!”

The President didn’t look so pleased himself. “Miss Taria. Must we go over the employee handbook regarding children participating in these games?”

With a seething Regal standing before him, and a teary-eyed dealer behind him, Lloyd looked back at his piles of chips.

“Wait, does that mean I don’t get to keep these?!”

Getting Raine to stop playing was a different matter entirely.

“Unfortunately, Genis, as she is an adult, there is not much I can do to make her stop.” Regal looked quite saddened by this, seeing the studious professor so entranced by the slot machine.

Sheena considered. “We could just, I dunno, blow that thing up.”

“I would like to avoid property damages if possible.”

“Sis, please!” Genis was tugging at Raine’s coat, which got him nowhere. “Are you listening to us? Do you even remember us?”

Regal said, in a deeply troubled voice, “My casino games have been known to be very addictive. I apologize.”

Lloyd was seated at a nearby table in what was basically a time-out, along with Colette. All their previous chips had been taken away, returned to the casino. “Still don’t see why I can’t play…”

“Hey, can’t have you young’uns ruin it for the rest of us, you know,” Zelos told him, as if the boy was desperate to hear his opinion.

Then, surreptitiously, the Chosen looked all around him. Their friends were still too busy pleading with Raine to hear what he would say next.

“Say, uh, Lloyd, what’s your secret?”

Lloyd had to take a moment. “What?”

“Like, you had some kind of lucky charm on you, right? There’s no way you actually did all that winning on your own. You carve a bunch of worthless crap, so you must have made one of those charms for yourself.”

“…Yeah, I’m done talking with you.”

Genis was still pleading with a zoned-out Raine. “I’ll let you cook anything you want for as long as you want! Just stop playing please!”

“Shh…” Raine hushed, patting her brother’s head absently, eyes still latched onto the slot machine’s spinning colors. “I’m gonna suck this place dry.”

Regal raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“Lloyd, bud, my man. Just give me a hint to what you did, and I’ll leave you alone forever.”

“Seriously, can you go away already?”

Colette, seated next to Lloyd, looked at Zelos with some pity. “Sorry, Zelos. We’d help you out if we knew for sure!”

That’s when the playboy Chosen suddenly remembered the dealer’s words, like a fragile whisper in the wind…

“Many of our customers like to have a beautiful lady next to them…”

“It’s you!”

“Huh?”

Zelos grabbed Colette’s hand, dragging her to his side. “My sweet little angel~ How about you and I get to know each other over a round of blackjack?”

“…Huh?”

Zelos wasn’t really paying attention to her, and was thinking about how best to get back his reputation. Sure, he’s had some hot ladies next to him before, but Colette, being as pure as she was, must have been a special case.

Lloyd stood up at the first sign of Zelos’ intrusion. “Hey, what are you doing?”

“Bud, you had your chance.”

Colette blinked owlishly. “I’m very confused…”

It was that moment that changed everything.

Genis, having watched his two closest friends get swallowed by the terrible disease that was gambling, and who was now watching that same sickness take over his only family in the world, felt himself changed. He knew that this would not be a one-time thing. Not with these kinds of addictions. He knew that both Lloyd and Colette would seek other ways to place bets, and that Raine might actually let them get away with it (or join in their efforts). All because Zelos had wanted to show off to everybody that he could barely play some dumb cards.

It was that moment that Genis made his decision.

He was going to freaking kill Zelos.

And now he heard Zelos trying to get them back into that vile pastime.

“This is your fault!”

Everyone in a near vicinity froze – even Raine, who had her hand on the lever, stopped to look at her brother. Her eyes became less cloudy, more focused. Lloyd forgot his anger for a moment to see his best friend’s face turn red with fury. Immediately, he guided Colette back to his side, and several meters away from Zelos. Both Sheena and Regal had the wisdom to stand a few feet back.

Only Zelos didn’t heed the warning.

“Look, brat, was I talking to you-”

His next words were swallowed by a vast amount of fire.

Presea was the only one to give Zelos any sympathy afterwards.

“It is very fortunate of you that Genis’ spell only made contact with most of your hair. If your skin had been targeted, you would have suffered from severe third-degree burns.”

She deftly applied the combover over his scalp, where half of his hair had been singed away.

“And your hair should return to its normal length within two to three months, depending on your diet and physical activity.”

The Chosen was more or less sober about the whole affair. “I have to pay for the damages to Regal’s casinos.”

“That is perfectly acceptable, given your responsibility for much of the situation.”

Zelos hoped his own luck would come back to him someday.

#tales of symphonia #zelos wilder #genis sage #lloyd irving #colette brunel #fanfiction #one shot

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brendamariesmith · 7 years ago

Text

Frozen Car and Other Musings

So here’s a crazy story for you about the love between mothers and sons and the lingering power of addiction. Normally I write fiction, but this is 100% true, though since it happened to me, my narration may not be 100% reliable.

My son, JD, is an auto mechanic, a green mechanic offering biodegradable motor oil and so much more, but this is beside the point. JD has been living in a mobile home (known in these parts as a trailer house) on a piece of land out west of Austin, Texas. The land is owned by a friend of JD’s named Jacob and his parents. There are two homes on the land and a couple of trailers. JD was very grateful to Jacob for giving him a good deal on the rent. JD was working on Jacob’s car, and it was taking a long time, due to parts orders and I don’t know what all. JD was fresh out of loaner cars, so he asked me if I would rent my car to Jacob at $120 for six days.

Well, I wasn’t crazy about the idea, but I needed the money, and I wanted to help JD out because he’s a good son who does me favors all the time, like keeping our cars running and buying me organic food. I said I would do the deal, and Jacob came to pick up my car. He seemed like a nice enough guy – maybe a little forced in his niceness. Something made me wonder about him, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. We signed a simple little agreement that said he’d have the car back to me by Valentine’s Day morning (because I had a doctor’s appointment that afternoon), he gave me $120 cash, and he said he would bring the car back washed with a full tank and an oil change. I thought that was a decent deal. He even asked if he could hug me, to which I said yes, somewhat awkwardly.

A little background: I am partly disabled and don’t use my car that much, but I do need it for doctor visits and for errands, which consist of driving through places in my neighborhood like the bank, the pharmacy, and fast food joints (I would go for healthier food if I could drive through to get it, but I don’t know of such a place anywhere near my house). I have loaned my car out to my sons for years, sometimes for months at a time, as long as they do errands for me and drive me places when I need it. So loaning out my car didn’t seem like a huge thing. Of course, that evening when I told my husband Doug what I’d done, he said, “Well, it’s your deal, not mine, since you didn’t ask me.” Cue the foreboding music.

Valentine’s Day morning arrives. I get ready for my doctor appointment and decide to call Jacob to see when he’ll be returning the car. He doesn’t answer his phone. After waiting a while and calling some more, I call JD. He says he has already tried to call Jacob and is getting worried that something is wrong. So JD leaves work and comes over to take me to the doctor and do my errands. Meanwhile, I get sick to my stomach and decide to cancel the doctor appointment. JD does my errands, then he calls Jacob’s mom. He walks away from me to talk to her, and I hear him using a hushed voice, saying “Uh-huh” and “I see” and “I’ll call you back.” This doesn’t seem good.

Sure enough, Jacob has been arrested and is in jail, in – wait for it – freaking Wisconsin! That is 1,200 miles away. Not only that, he has been arrested on felony charges in Texas and is being extradited back here, leaving my car behind. Now JD figures it would be a good time to tell me that Jacob is a recovering alcoholic who has been sober for five years but may have gone on a bender, and he sometimes does “stupid shit.” He had been in an “argument” with his “baby-mama,” she had supposedly pushed him and he had allegedly pushed back. A likely story. There is something about breaking and entering involved in his charges, too. What the fuck?!

Jacob’s mom, Lisa, doesn’t know where the car is parked, only that it’s at someone’s house. I’m picturing a crowded city street where my car is likely to get vandalized, stolen, or towed. Lisa doesn’t even know what jail Jacob is in, but she thinks it is around Madison in a county that starts with “Wau,” which is hilarious (not) because every third county in Wisconsin starts with Wau.

When Doug comes home from work that night, I say I have something bad to tell him but I want to wait a day so it won’t spoil Valentine’s. He says okay with a droll grin on his face, and he goes upstairs to change clothes. When he comes back down, he says, “Where’s your car? Does it have anything to do with what you don’t want to tell me?” And so I tell him. How could I not? Doug is so sweet that I can’t hide things from him. He doesn’t get mad at me, he just commiserates. I need that. We have five grown sons. We are accustomed to stupid shit.

I realize it’s up to me to find my damned car, my seventeen-year-old, powder-blue Nissan Maxima that I have babied and kept legal and insured, that still gets amazing gas mileage, and that needs a paint job, new tires, and a noise fixed in the front end. My car that I bought to travel to Oklahoma 32 times in two years in 2000 & 2001 when my parents were ill and dying. My car that I paid for twice because I leased it for three years before I bought it over another five. My car that has yet another lien on it because I put it up for collateral in a family business that failed, the car that could get repo’d any day but so far hasn’t. (The lender has made no efforts to collect the company debt – a mystery that I am happy to keep mysterious.) My comfortable car that I haven’t taken out of the state in a decade and that has only been as far as Houston and back a couple of times in recent years. My car that I can’t even afford to paint, much less replace.

I get online and find a map of Wisconsin counties. I find two that start with Wau around Madison. I call their jails, no Jacob. I call the county where Madison is, even though it doesn’t start with Wau, but still no luck. I call Jacob’s mom and ask her to please find out from Jacob, next time she gets a call from him, where exactly my car is, but she isn’t getting to talk to him every day. Plus he doesn’t know much since he has no phone and apparently no memory either. I go back online and am looking at a road map of Wisconsin, trying to see how JD will go when he drives my car back home, because he is going to drive my car home, oh yes he is.

It’s now been two days. While studying the Wisconsin map, I see a Wau county next to Milwaukee. I google their jail, and this one actually lists the names online of people they have in custody. And there he is, Jacob Blankety-Blank, the stupid-shit-doing son of a bitch. I call the jail. They are very nice to me, but they have a policy against relaying messages to inmates, so they won’t ask him where my car is. They do tell me he was not arrested with car keys or a wallet, though. I guess the lady feels sorry for me, so she offers to transfer me to the little town police department that arrested Jacob. I tell them the whole story all over again. The receptionist takes it down in great detail and says she will ask the arresting officer to call me back.

Meanwhile, although JD may or may not have known it, I have made him my bitch. I’m not sure, but I may have invented errands for him to run for me. I talk to Lisa about money to get JD to Wisconsin, but, although she is nice and as apologetic as can be, she has no money. In fact, Jacob has been paying the mortgage on their land because she and her husband are out of work, or only have work part-time, or some very sad story that I don’t fully absorb because my mind shuts down when she says they have no money to help us. They are worse off than I am. That’s all I really catch.

A police officer from the town of Occo-fucking-something-or-other calls me back. “Ma’am,” he says, “did you know you were loaning your car to a felon?” “No,” I say, after I smack myself in the head. The cop tells me a story of Jacob and his friends coming to Milwaukee for an annual Rave. They were stoned out of their minds and bothering the neighbors where they were staying. The cops calmed them down and departed, but returned to arrest Jacob after they ran a check on him and found his felony warrants. The cop says he knows where my car is, but he can’t tell me without permission from the people who have the car. I’m thinking drugged-out people who may not have even noticed my car, or mean-assed neighbors who had the car towed. I’m thinking slashed tires and smashed windows. I’m wondering if my car is now in Mexico or Canada or Timbuktu. I’m thinking of abandoning my beloved car.

But the cop, who has been a bit snarky so far, throws me for a loop when he says, “Tell you what. I’ll go by to see the people who have the car, and I’ll ask them to call you.” I don’t know how many times I say “Thank you!” but it is a lot.

I figure it might be days (or never) before I hear back, but that evening I get a call from Wisconsin. It’s a woman named Karen who says my car is fine, and that I can leave it there until JD comes to get it. “The policeman told me I didn’t have to call you back,” she says, “but I thought I’d call. And now that I realize you’re someone’s mom, I’m glad I did.” I thank Karen until I have no Thank-you’s left in me, and I promise to call her back. This is around February 17th.

I call JD, super-excited and ready to book him a flight. I tell him that Jacob’s mom Lisa offered to find a cheap flight because she claimed to be good at that.

“I want to drive,” JD says.

“What the hell? That will take two days. And then you’ll have to get two cars home.”

“I’ll find someone to go with me. Flying is bad for the environment.” Evidently, so is loaning out your car to people you don’t know, to people who do stupid shit. “I can’t go for a few days because I have work to do,” he says. I get it because he is self-employed, but he caused this mess and I want him to fix it, like, Now!

“If you don’t have time to go, then you should definitely fly,” I say, and he says he’ll see what he can work out. He has no dinero either, but thinks he’ll get some from the jobs he is doing.

I wait for a day, then I start texting JD, asking him when and how he’s going to Wisconsin. I throw in a few more errands for him to run while I’m at it. He says he’s leaving for a trip to Mexico in less than a week. It’s a trip he’s already paid for, and he can’t get his money back. He’ll be gone for a week, and he can’t go get my car until a few days after he gets back. I am pissed. I think he should drop everything and go get my bleeping car.

But like a good passive-aggressive mother, I seethe inside while I arrange things with Karen to keep my car for two or three more weeks. I tell JD he has to loan me his car while he’s gone. “My car broke down, and I’m not gonna fix it,” he says. “I’m giving it back to the dealer.” This is his Chevy Volt electric car that cost a small fortune, and he’s giving it back?! I am beyond confused.

“You need to loan me another car then,” I say. JD says okay and describes three possible cars. They all sound huge and impossible to get in and out of, much less to drive. I pick the one that sounds the smallest. A day or so later, he brings me an old, smallish Subaru wagon with a reasonable paint job. “It looks legal, but don’t get stopped. That registration sticker is from another car.” Great, I think, but I’m so happy to have a car that actually fits me (I am short and very fat), that I start talking about trading my Maxima for the Subaru, or leaving the Maxima in Wisconsin since it will be so expensive to get it back. I may have been suffering from Stockholm Syndrome or something like it.

Karen in Wisconsin tells me the keys to the car are inside it under the seat. She lives in the country, “down a driveway that’s a mile long.” I ask her if she’s up to it, will she please bring the keys into her house. She is very ill, she says, from terminal cancer. She just moved to Wisconsin and doesn’t know her neighbors. She says her nephew and Jacob were partying at her house and she returned to a home surrounded by cop cars. She lives on a lake. Jacob and friends had gone out on the icy lake, wrecked on God knows what, and Jacob returned to the wrong house and tried to get in. These neighbors have a teenage daughter and were scared, so they called the cops. The mistaken house story sounds leaky to me, given Jacob’s breaking and entering charges in Texas. It could have happened, just like he could have stayed in Texas with my god-forsaken car.

JD goes to Mexico. I drive the Subaru and discover it’s not such a great car after all. It wanders on the road into other lanes. The cup holders are a joke. The A/C fan squeals so loudly that I have to turn it off in drive-thru lines, which are the only places I go. Luckily it’s not too hot yet. Thank the lord for small favors.

Jacob’s mom Lisa wants Karen’s phone number. She seems to have a mistaken idea that Jacob knew Karen before. Lisa says Jacob left his wallet up there, and it should have enough money to pay us back for JD’s plane ticket. But I can’t give Lisa Karen’s number without permission. Plus I start thinking that if Karen knows there’s money in the wallet, she might just take it for a storage fee, and who could blame her? Or Karen’s nephew, who sounds like a dumbass himself, might take the money. I stall on calling Karen for Lisa. Also, Jacob is already back in Texas. It doesn’t seem fair, even though he is in jail.

JD’s one week trip to Mexico turns into ten days. Before he returns home, I get a call from a long-time friend of mine, who is about eight years younger than I am. She tells me she went to Mexico with JD. They’d been seeing each other since September but were afraid to tell me. I don’t get it – why would they be afraid to tell me, a woman who had a couple of young boyfriends when she was forty? The intimidating mystique of motherhood. “Are you mad at me?” my friend asks. “Hell no,” I say. “My sons have already lost me a couple of old friends. They can’t have any more of them! But let’s not talk about it anymore, okay?” I didn’t want that picture in my head. Anyway, JD and my friend broke up, had a fight, and she left Mexico early, so why worry, right? (Says me, the woman with bigger fish to fry, like a car held hostage in the frozen tundra and a mad-man for a President. And the Great Barrier Reef being dead. And my stomach being entirely too volatile these days.) Oh, and by the way, the registration sticker on the Subaru belongs to my friend.

Finally JD comes back from Mexico and comes straight to my house before he even goes home. Lisa finds us a cheap flight, and we book it for JD to fly from Austin to Milwaukee two days later. JD has a dog, a pit bull rescue who is sweet but highly excitable. JD had left the dog with a friend while he was in Mexico, and the dog had “an incident,” the details of which are unclear. He is now in “doggie jail” for the next two weeks. Sad but ironically convenient for JD to leave town again. Poor dog.

Lisa reminds us that there’s money in Jacob’s wallet, which she now knows is in the car along with his other belongings. Since I used almost all the money I had for the plane fare and JD didn’t have any money after going to Mexico, I tell Lisa that JD needs money for the drive back. She says if the wallet has enough cash, JD can use it for the drive. But her heart is sinking, I can hear it in her voice. JD will have to move so Lisa can get the trailers off her land. They are illegally tapped into her septic system. She has to rent out Jacob’s house to help pay the mortgage without income from Jacob. She needs money for his lawyer. She is sweet and sad about her son fucking up so much. “I didn’t raise him to be this way,” she says. “I know you didn’t,” say I. Heart-breaking. The next morning I call Karen to tell her that JD is coming early Saturday afternoon.

Friday night JD comes by to get the extra set of car keys, Karen’s phone number, and directions to her house, which is a long, $100 cab ride from the Milwaukee airport. I also give him phone numbers for family who live along the way back. I’m worried sick about him driving so far alone, but he says he has friends he plans to visit in Illinois and Missouri and Oklahoma and will take his time coming back. He has $400 for the trip. It could be enough IF nothing goes wrong.

Saturday morning, March 4th, JD’s already in St. Louis to change planes. We send each other a string of Facebook messages. I call Karen. Good thing I did. She thought he was coming on Sunday, I don’t know why. Pain meds, I’m guessing. JD lands in Milwaukee just before one p.m. Karen calls to say she’s going out but will leave the keys in the car. Next thing I know, I have a new Facebook message with a picture of my car. It looks beautiful! (Mostly because the shot is a side view, and all the peeled paint on the hood and roof of the car can’t be seen, but still it’s beautiful!)

There’s a second photo of snow on the ground in the woods with the infamous lake in the background. The car’s tires are low from the cold, and Karen isn’t home. Luckily the car had enough coolant/antifreeze to keep the block from cracking. Been there, done that. Not fun. JD says the wallet is in the car, and there’s enough money for the plane and the drive. Will wonders never cease? JD takes the car to buy Karen a plant for a thank-you gift and to air up the tires. Karen is there when JD returns. He gives her the plant and a big hug. He feels like he made her day.

JD takes three days to drive home, visiting friends and my brother and his family on the way. It’s like pulling teeth to get JD to communicate with me. He takes one more day to gas and clean my car, to change the oil, and to investigate the front end noise that has grown much louder. My car is a thousand times better to drive than that illegal Subaru. It sits low to the ground, like me. It has sturdy cup holders and an A/C fan that doesn’t squeal (a special blessing since it’s hot now). And it stays in its own lane.

I get my car back on March 9th, one month and one day after I “rented” it to Jacob. Better yet, I’ve got my son back too. It was a bit of wicked fun to have a personal bitch for a while, but there’s nothing better than a loving son. And JD knew it was his responsibility too, so he didn’t bitch much about being my bitch. He took care of me willingly, and for that I am hugely grateful. Whatever stupid shit he may do, it won’t be as stupid as poor Jacob.

No telling when Jacob will get out of jail. I calculate that he owes me at least a thousand dollars just for the mileage he put on my car. Not sure what’s a fair price for stealing my car and the weeks he took off my life. JD says Jacob is a stand-up guy. He does stupid shit, but he will pay me back. I’m not holding my breath, but I will not forget either.

Jacob and his family are the real tragedy here. Addictions never go away, they only get held in check sometimes. After the cost of the plane trip, the drive, two motels, cab fare, food, and the plant gift, there was $11.00 left. I kept it out of principle. At least we got our money back. What remains to be seen is whether or not Jacob and his family will get their lives back. Let us hope so. That stupid thirty-year-old kid. Argh!!

And me? My stomach has calmed way down, knock on wood. In fact, I’m feeling so frisky that I might just venture out solo to the drive-thru liquor store on the opposite side of Austin. Got to stretch my horizons. I might even save up to paint my sweet old ride, if it doesn’t get repo’d first.

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