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mermaidsirennikita · 10 months

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What are your "she’s all grown up" recommendations?

I feel like you can either do this as "he knew her when she was a child and there is an age gap" or "they knew each other as kids". My post was prompted by my currently reading Stephanie Laurens's A Rogue's Proposal, in which the hero, Demon (no it's not his legal name yes it's what everyone calls him yes it's great) is 31 and knew the heroine, his friend's ward, when she was a little girl but meets her again when she's 20 and is like "well I feel gross for this but that ass tho". I am greatly enjoying his sexual confusion.

Other recs:

--Olivia and the Masked Duke by Grace Callaway. The hero is like 10-12 years older than the heroine and has known her since he rescued her from drowning when she was a child. He really doesn't see her in That Way until she starts coming on to him when she's like... 18 to 20. And he's like "oh NO" about it, because he is in fact her dad's friend.

--Another "dad's friend" one is Joanna Shupe's My Dirty Duke, wherein the heroine is 20 and the hero is like... 43. And her dad's best friend. She again starts coming on to him and he has to realize... she's A Woman Now.

--She Tempts the Duke by Lorraine Heath has a heroine who was the hero's childhood sweetheart; right after they share their first kiss as 12 (her) and 14 (him) he and his brothers have to run away because their uncle is literally trying to murder them. They come back 12 years later and she's on the brink of getting engaged to another man. I remember very distinctly the hero in this ballroom like "hello I am alive" and being obsessed with this freckle on her cleavage lol.

--The Rake's Guide to Seduction by Caroline Linden is a brother's best friend book wherein the hero realizes at the beginning that he sees his best friend's sister in a new way now that she's all grown up; but he's too late and another guy swoops in before he can tell her. Years later, she's widowed and depressed when they meet up again during a house party.

--Ever Yours, Annabelle by Elisa Braden has a heroine who's obsessed with her brother's best friend when she's like... 10-13, and he gets injured in this maiming accident that sends him away from her. They come back into contact again over a decade later and he's shocked by how... grown she is.

--When the Duke Was Wicked by Lorraine Heath. This is Lovingdon's (28) entire crisis when Grace (19) a family friend asks him to help her find a good husband. He was super in love with his wife and has been a mega rake ever since she and their daughter died. This is also RUM ON LIPS book, which means it Must be read. One of my top Lorraine Heath reads.

--Seduce Me at Sunrise by Lisa Kleypas. Kev and Win were childhood friends and super devoted to each other already, but there's something extra special about Win coming back from the Continent after two years with her health restored and trying to find Kev, only for him to think she's a sex worker because she's wearing a cloak and bending her over a table before being like "WIN??????" I love it so much.

--A Rogue by Any Other Name by Sarah MacLean. Love this because Bourne and Penelope were separated for yeeeears and she super obviously had a childish crush on him, and when they're reunited as full adults he's like "she..... actually does it for me a lot...."

--Shadowheart by Laura Kinsale has the hero and heroine reunite when she's 17 (it's a medieval and released in 2003-04 lol) and he's... 27ish I want to say? After he dropped her off with her sister when she was like 5 and he was a very messed up teenager she idolized. He's very quickly Spellbound. TW: nonconsensual first encounter.

--Mercy by Sara Cate I offer as a gender-flipped version in that the heroine, 34, is matched with her best friend's son, 22, on a kink-driven dating app (he's a sub, she's a domme). She really only saw him as a spoiled brat (and he is) but begins to view him in a verrrry different way as they get to actually know each other.

Eyes On Me by Sara Cate--LOL WHOOPS. This one is a stepbrother/stepsister romance with a decent age gap--10ish years I want to say? They didn't live together long, and he accidentally finds her on a camgirl site (he's a major voyeur). He starts watching her cam while also dealing with falling for her in real life.

--It Seemed Liked A Good Idea At The Time by Kylie Scott is a contemporary romcom wherein the heroine (now 25) has been effectively banished from her dad's house ever since he saw her trying to seduce his best friend (15 years her senior) topless right after she turned 18. The friend was very resistant then and is pissed at her for almost ruining a very important personal and professional relationship, but when they reunite for her dad's wedding.... Feelings and lots of tension ensues because she's like. Not a kid anymore!!!!

--Deep by Kylie Scott. The hero really met the heroine when she was a legal adult lol, but there's still a lot of this vibe because he's late twenties/early thirties and one of his best friend's college coed sister-in-law, and everyone has been like "STEP AWAY FROM THE CHILD" since they met... Even though, again! She's not a kid! But basically they have an ill-advised one night stand that becomes significantly more complicated when she turns up pregnant.

--The Arrow by Monica McCarty. Classic ward/guardian romance, medieval, the hero saved the heroine when she was a kid and took her in, and years later returns to find her all grown up.... and very interested in seducing him.

#romance novel blogging #book recs

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fitgothgirl · 10 months

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Long write up about some issues of mine and the past, been wanting to get this out. Will probably send to my therapist lol... TW emotional abuse.

The more I think about, the more I know my dad and my ex really messed me up. I still defend my dad that overall he was a decent parent and he was only human. I had a very comfortable and happy childhood. He tried to be a good dad and was caring, but he also messed up a good amount of times. My ex on the other hand, fuck him. For the sake of whatever unknowing victim, I hope he never dated again for whatever reason, death included.

But they both contributed to one of my biggest weaknesses. Nothing is harder for me to do than speak my mind, stand up for myself, set boundaries, and so on. In my mind, a serious talk is synonymous with fight. There are always tears. I now know that ADHD can cause one to cry ridiculously easily or to just shutdown into silence during discussions because we can't handle the emotion. Makes so much sense, I do both those things. But it wasn't just the ADHD. Every important conversation didn't need to be an argument, or me getting shutdown, or something negative. So I have it lodged deeply in my brain that my interpretation of things is wrong. I'm always wrong, wrong, wrong. It's a mantra that often plays in my head.

My dad wasn't as bad as my ex. He was a single dad who worked a lot, who had two daughters that probably just reminded him so much of his crazy ex, who both ended up being a handful in their teens. He was just always stressed and had a short fuse and would scare me when he was pissed. He didn't do anything to me, just the way he talked through gritted teeth or how he yelled (or what he yelled) or how he was strict. I remember certain things would trigger both me and my sister to go to our rooms to be on our own - his car pulling up in the driveway, the sound of the garage door; we just wanted to stay out of his way when he first got home since we knew that's when he would be most on edge. I can also distinctly remember the sound of him walking up the stairs, when I would pause to listen if he would be turning left to our rooms or right to his room. I'd try to gauge his energy/mood in the subtleties of his step. Anyway, it wasn't the best atmosphere for standing up for myself or speaking my mind, etc. Parenting today has taken such a good turn where people are trying to move away from anger and yelling and punishments for mistakes, and instead treat their kids like people and have a more understanding and guiding attitude. But still, my bf is my age and I look at his family and they're just amazing... I know many people who felt like they could really talk to their parents. I know my situation was by far not the worst possible, but it also wasn't great.

And I went straight from that to some full on grade A emotional abuse for 3 years with my ex. Life was constantly walking on eggshells... Things I didn't know could be a fight were a fight. All I wanted was for him to stop criticizing me and yelling at me and I didn't know what to say to make it stop, which wouldn't happen until I was in tears (although not like that's hard). I couldn't win no matter what I said so I just shutdown and said whatever to appease him in the fewest amount of syllables. He had the final say with everything. No seeing friends without him, which was rare for him to agree to, unless I wanted to have it held over my head forever (along with any other "nice" or "lenient" things he did or "let" me do). Had to work 6 days a week but also be responsible for the cleaning of the apartment since I made less money than him. Panicking at work when I realized I left a dish out and he was going to be home before me. Trying to be as small as possible while he punched a hole in the wall. Not able to spend money without his approval. Sitting home alone before a 13 hour shift while sobbing and holding my cat about how utterly trapped I felt. And he didn't even fucking drive, I was his chauffeur... Oh and of course, at the end of every lash out, I was reminded how it was because he loved me and cared about me wanted me to grow as a person, etc. (If you're wondering, yes I'm embarrassed that I let myself put up with this.)

All this to say, the thought of any form of serious conversation is almost paralyzing. And I get so distressed that I forget things I want to say. And it always ends with me being wrong in some way anyway! This is not something I've imagined, this is learned from experience. It's not even me yielding to end the discussion - by the end I do see that I'm truly wrong and I wasn't thinking. So why should I speak my mind about things when I know I'm going to somehow end up in the wrong or otherwise judged or dismissed... And if something gets brought up by someone else with any tinge of anger or irritation or even seriousness? I just shutdown. If I have to speak then just have a one track mind to appease.

This all leads to me being the mediator (INFP-T for sure), the one to keep the peace. Always adding smiles and laughs to what I'm doing or saying to keep others at ease. Trying to steer things back when any negative emotion rises, silently begging against any conflict. Just fawn response all day everyday.

I've now been with a wonderful guy for almost 12 years and yet I often still feel so trapped inside myself.

#mine

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vincentsleftear · 4 months

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List 5 things that make you happy, then put this in the askbox for the last 10 people who liked or reblogged something from you! Get to know your mutuals and followers :)

(You don't have to send it on if you don't want~)

Hi again!! Thanks for the ask!!

Also, a thank you to @thursdayinspace and @casuallycryingoverbooks for sending similar asks :)

1. Music!!! Little else can lift my mood quicker than putting on a good song to jump around to🤗

2. A good breeze. I know this sounds corny but here me out. I live in the American south. Where I live it gets *despicably* hot. This past year was the worst I’ve ever experienced (thanks climate change!!). My family and I have compared stepping outside during that time to the feeling of opening an oven that’s been cranked to the highest setting. Just a blast of *PURE* heat straight to the face. Or even worse. This heat + humidity?! You can’t escape. Just completely engulfed in an oppressive, suffocating, sticky heat. So. Needless to say 😅. When I’m outside feeling like I’ve just been teleported to the 10th circle of hell, even a brief moment of a nice breeze makes my heart sing.

3. Iced coffee. No explanation needed there.

4. Water!! Let me tell you. There is not a single feeling in the world that can compare to being so deep in the ocean that your body is lifted off the sea floor by the waves. Now. Is that the safest situation to be in? Hey. Probably not. Would never recommend if you don’t have lots of experience being in and around large bodies of water (and even if you do, never go that deep alone!!). But my goodness. Just relaxing your body and floating in the water around you?? Just allowing the water to carry you up and down?? You’re not able to touch the floor but it’s truly the most grounding experience. The first time I had ever gone that far out into the ocean I was with my dad. Must have been around 13/14?? I distinctly remember thinking that it may be the happiest I had ever been.

5. Honestly. When my math work makes sense. 😭. I’ve realized recently that math can actually be really fun!! I enjoy the rhythm of it. Formulas to remember and plug in, clear steps to follow, rows and rows of work down the page, a precise answer in the end. So yeah. math can actually be really fun and really cool…when you know what you’re doing that is… *cries is calculus student*

#🙇🏾‍♀️ guess which state a from lol #soo stereotypical 😅#five things that make you happy #asks #iris speaks

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gotjacobian · 8 months

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Thinking about how I distinctly remember the moment I felt like I 'got' what abstract art was. Like, up until around age 13, I really didn't understand what the point of it was, and got frustrated when asked to analyze or interpret anything that wasn't clearly representative. Then one day, the english teacher put a painting up on the screen and asked us to write about it and I just... finally understood what I was supposed to do? It wasn't a painting I feel or felt particularly strongly about, but suddenly I was like "oh I see, non-representative styles, depictions, and expressions can be evocative, impactful, deliberate, etc." When I definitely was not on that level before.

I had a very similar experience with music, actually, but younger, maybe 10 or 11 - kid me cared a lot about the lyrics of music and preferred stuff that was grounded and fairly literal. But then my parents were listening to The Wall - which I had absolutely heard before! - in the car at one point, and got to Comfortably Numb, and all of a sudden I had to go lie down for a while about it to process the affective experience I'd just had. And then every song after was like that - I recognized that music could make me feel things, that that was the point.* Obviously there was and always is more to say about art, but both times for me that first step was like flipping a switch, to the point I legitimately think it must've been some kind of developmental stage. *tbf my parents do also have a lot of stories of kid me like, crying at the cinematic parts of orchestral pieces and things, so obviously I was capable of being Affected, but I think I couldn't articulate the intentionality behind it before that. Like, best I can explain it, I thought that music made you sad because it was or would be the soundtrack to something sad happening? Or that it was a fundamental trait of the music itself, that certain sounds were magic spells that Caused Crying. Not that someone could, and would choose, to make a song that felt and sounded like depression so that I would then hear it and respond to that. The shift was half theory of mind, half realizing that symbols can mean things that aren't purely, completely grounded.

#combined with the education to guide me there both in school and out of course #which I am legitimately grateful for #i'm just so curious whether there's also a cognitive component because it was SO binary for me on both counts #complaining

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domesticmail · 1 year

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on living together and decorating

under the cut because personal, also disorganized

so, i shared a room growing up. i absolutely detested this with all of my being, but it wasn't really my choice. my parents bought a house with five bedrooms: the master bedroom, two jack-and-jill rooms downstairs, and two bedrooms upstairs. of the two bedrooms upstairs one was almost the size of the master - the princess suite. we moved in when i was 11 (my sisters 8 and 6, respectively) and i realized very quickly that sharing a room was going to become a problem.

for one, my sisters were closer to each other in age, so they agreed about essentially everything. this meant i got completely pushed out of any say in how the room looked, because if i disagreed with them, it was still two to one. (and make no mistake, my parents would simply side with the majority.) so the walls were painted dark purple.

second, any decoration i wanted to ADD to the room had to be approved by both of them. this wasn't really a problem with my youngest sister, who had more important things to think about i assume, but my other sister was a bit more difficult. i remember distinctly the day i asked her (we were around 16 and 13 at this time) if i could hang a bi flag up above my bed. she was so offended - how DARE i want to be so loud about my sexuality? why do i have to be so open about it? (my parents backed her up and i was never allowed to have a pride flag.)

when i moved for college i was so fucking excited i could finally decorate my own space. and i did!! i adored my dorm and how comfortable it felt.

carrying on, i lived in a big bedroom in a farmhouse basically alone with two dogs and a cat for a month when i went NC with my parents after second semester. after that i moved in with my boyfriend, who lived in a room in a townhouse that was WAY too small for both of us (but it was the only place we could afford so we sucked it up). the landlord there was a piece of shit, so i craigslist hunted for a month before finding the strangest house available to rent. the posting looked like this:

2 bed 1 bath available for rent $1300 2 bed 1 bath available for rent off [redacted] road, no pictures posting for a friend. Call [landlord's name] XXXXXXXXXX DONT TEXT!!

so i called.

an old man answered the phone angrily. i explained that i'd seen his craigslist post about a house for rent and my partner and i were interested. he sounded very pleased and informed us we could head over whenever. he lives in the south half the year (meaning he's one of the old wealthy dickheads who has a fucking SUMMER HOUSE in the town i can barely afford to live in because of assholes like him) so alas he would not be able to meet us there, but we were welcome to go over and take a look around.

at this point my boyfriend, who had been silent up until now, said, "wait, what do you mean, go over?"

and the landlord so nicely replied, "the front door is unlocked."

we lived there for about seven months, until this may. it was FREEZING in the winter because mice living in the walls (i know.) had chewed through the electric heater in the living room (i know i know i know); i once went to grab olive oil to make eggs and it was all solidified in the bottle. my fucking olive oil FROZE. that's how cold it would get. all the while the house is on a well, and either a. the well water was contaminated or b. the water heater needed a new anode rod because the water constantly smelled like rotten eggs (but we refused to pay to fix that because....not our house). it was on an acre of land right off a main road in the mountains, meaning it snowed a holy fuck ton and i was unable to get to work several days last winter because the weather had literally snowed my car into the driveway. (unrelated, i also got my car stuck in a ditch about 200 feet up the road from the house during a snowstorm once. that road is so awful that in the winter months if you hear sirens headed that direction you almost know it's because someone got in an accident.) several times i had to ask a neighbor to plow our driveway in exchange for cookies or shoveling snow off of his roof, so that we could get our cars out and go to work.

anyways we had to move again and now we're in the apartment i told you about originally. only a few of the places i just told you about had a formal lease agreement with us (i was stupid and 18 and had never handled literally anything in my life before. i have a lease now), so they never felt fully permanent. the walls stayed bare and my decorations and pictures and posters stayed packed up because it would just kill me to make somewhere my home and then take it all down when i have to leave.

but now we have a lease!! and so i can't be kicked out whenever! my safety and shelter is assured for at least another year! so i've started decorating. small pieces, mostly thrifted art or anything mason likes. he is very practical and utilitarian, i don't think he has any actual interest in decorating, but he'll give me his opinion when i ask.

really, though, i think he knows how much it means to me to be able to decorate some spaces however i like. our bedroom has my album covers all over the walls; the space above the couch has a beautiful print of some flowers, a painting of a horseshoe that says "HORSESHOE" on it, a picture of us (too small for the frame so the cardboard backing shows around the edges), and a couple other small paintings. one pretty impressionist painting on canvas of a couple walking under an umbrella. i didn't have to get up from my computer to name those; i just instinctively know, because i picked each piece out!! i decided each artwork had meaning to me, and now i get to display them on the wall, nobody's permission needed!!! that is EXHILIRATING for me!! it feels like i am putting my heart, my brain, my thoughts and feelings into my home and letting it really connect with me as a place of safety, comfort, and rest, not just the place i come to hang out, eat, and sleep.

props to having a supportive partner who lets me indulge in my hobbies and interests without making me feel like i'm "too much"

#personal #i still have the broken pin from the plow!!#will post pics later

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zodiariesworld · 1 year

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| day 2 of living with zoe

tw: discussion of passive suicidal ideation and depression.

living is something that’s honestly been hard for me to do these past few years. i’ve been alive, but truly i’ve been actively trying to undo for that for years passively.

the harmful words i would throw at myself as i stare into the mirror comparing myself to others. anyone who breathed was competition to me.

i went into high school used to being the best. i went to a small prep school where our 6th grade class was filled with 26 people, the most it had in years. and there i was the best.

my high school classes at from 30-40 people in there. not to mention i also competed against everyone in the grade.

i hated anything with games and competitions. i hate how people acted during it, and how angry and aggressive they got. so to enter an environment where everyone was competing against each other was not for me.

that’s when i developed anxiety to an extent that was unhealthy. other girls too had this same anxiety (i went to an all girls’ high school. one of the best in the country.) but they were used to it. they thrived in competition. they encouraged it. me? i feared it.

when the anxiety hit me and i lost control of my own body to where it envolved into shakes. shakes i’ve never experienced, hospitals and tests i had to do. blood tests to the point where the needle was comforting to me. learning how to swallow pills as at least of nine of them had to go down my throat for the day.

that’s when i started to struggle to want to live. that’s when those words i’ve never said before, the voices in my head encouraging me to give up. and i did many times.

i’m not a fighter.

i don’t like to push myself past my limits.

i distinctly remember the moments when i gave up. not actively but passively yet it was still actively. i still actively hated living. i hated waking up and having to drag myself to do tests and hoping i can find some validation in them.

but now i’m pushing. slowly, but surely i’m pushing. i’m a second year uni student who is trying to figure out what the hell to do with her life. i’m trying to push to get my degree. no matter what it takes except. i’m actually taking care of myself.

doing little things like saying, “it’s okay to go to sleep if you’re tired” or “it’s okay if i don’t understand. i understand other things.”

by actually being positive, instead of saying “there’s no way i’ll pass this test.” i say “i can do it. i’ll pass it and if i don’t. i’ll do better next time and move on,”

granting myself those graces that i never gave poor 13 year old zoe is healing.

though sometimes it hurts me because i do have stuff to get done. but i allow myself to slack off a bit, because i’m tired. and my body deserves rest.

i’ll keep practicing this. it’s just me against me in this competition. being healthy is what’s best for me. i’ll keep trying my best. and i’ll keep trying to be happy. i want to be alive i realized. no matter how much it’s painful to keep trying to keep that want. i know it’ll pay off to where i’m content.

i’ll keep finding these small but certain happens in life. ☁️🩷

#livingwithzoe #self improvement #lifestyle #self motivation #living with mental illness #positive energy #Spotify

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sauntering-down · 2 years

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twenty years ago, i wrote a Star Wars fic.

two years ago, i opened the document for the first time since junior high and liveblogged the reread for Mary.

tonight... you get to experience the experience. savor it. firefox crashed twice while i was compiling this post, so cursed is the tale...

someday, Mary, i will tell you about the cringiest thing i've ever written. it's completely ripped off of a Boba Fett novel released right after AotC, there are song lyrics repurposed as a poem, iirc there's a literal Plot Device that gets completely forgotten about until i realized i was at the end of the story… anyway, i just have to read it myself first, because i literally haven't opened that document in fifteen years. it's that bad. i printed it out and brought it to my grandparents' cabin upstate and made everyone in my family read it. i physically cannot let you read the entire thing, but when i finally get up the courage, i'll liveblog it for you

it's so bad, Mary. it's so bad. the ship in the story is literally the Slave I with (i think???) a different name. i distinctly remember looking up the actual type of ship in one of my brother's many Star Wars guides

it's FANTASTIC and just the vague memory is so awful i seriously haven't touched it since i was like, 13

i don't remember very much of the plot except the kid trying to get his ship back, because i'm pretty sure that's what happened in the Boba Fett novel lmao

there's supposed to be something about a mysterious crystal, but after like one chapter i forgot about it until remembering at the very end and just having this kid find it in a ship. like… imagine opening your glove compartment one afternoon and finding the fucking Hope Diamond in there. that's pretty much what happens

the last true island of cringe on my hard drive must be conquered

should've bought myself a neck brace in case i cringe so hard my head retracts into my torso

me: alright before i even open the document, i should tell you it's called 'Cast My Soul to the Sea'. IF i recall correctly, it's a bastardized lyric from a Loreena McKennitt song Mary: This is going to be AMAZING

i'm not sure i ever heard this song. i took the title and the """"poem"""" in the story from the titles of a totally different Star Wars story i found online. i didn't read it, btw, i just liked the title

okay. gonna open the document. if i never reply again it's because god smote me

thank god it's not written in Comic Sans

okay. okay. up until this instant i didn't remember the protagonist's name but thought it started with a J… turns out his name is Zachary McCoy. a very Star Wars name there.

anywho, it starts off with a line from this """""""""poem"""""""", and Zach's sister Evelyn asking if that's all he's written. he claims "seventh form" is difficult, whatever that is.

their father is apparently coming home soon. he is, OF COURSE, a bounty hunter.

we timeskip to Tuesday when Dad gets home… okay, this family consists of Zachary, his two little sisters Evelyn and Clarissa, mom Rachel, and dad… Breon. BREON. i mean, at least i was TRYING to make something a little more Star Warsy, but it stands out badly compared to the much more normal names. i should've gone big or gone home. why not Zaqureehy???

…i just realized this entire story is SEVEN PAGES LONG. what the actual fuck, 13-year-old Alex???? you useless asshole.

moving on… Zach notices his father seems sad, but doesn't worry about it much

Zach overhears his parents talking quietly and conveniently catches a few super relevant words! we get our first mention of the 'Caman's Crystal'

so Breon needs a hand because he has to track a bounty on Yavin 4, but he also has to get help from "the couriers on Dell", whatever that means. apparently he needs to do these things at the same time… so he asks his kid. how old is this kid? fuck if i know.

and there ends chapter one. it was about 400 words. i'm deeply ashamed of myself

me: chapter two… Zach sees a cool ship, goes "oh neat, whose is that?" and apparently it's HIS now. this kid is like, twelve. Mary: I mean…expensive flex, Breon, but okay

he notes it's almost like the Slave I, although HOW he knows that i have no fucking idea, except it's smaller. i'm calling it the Slave II now.

it's actually called the Starlight 7, but.. nah

Zach finds it a little strange at first but ofc he's an INSTANT EXPERT at piloting and gets the hang of it instantly

Breon apparently just vanished into the ether, because Zach's in hyperspace now. he reads a book to pass the time… which apparently has detailed descriptions of both Yavin 4 AND Kamino. can you tell i was not very familiar with anything Star Wars besides the movies?

oh wait, apparently Breon's still there? okay then

Zach tells himself not to worry because his father's flying and Breon is, of course, Jango Fett with the serial number filed off there's a clone joke there

…what follows is a total rip-off of the AotC scene where Obi-Wan chases Jango and Boba through the asteroids near Geonosis, complete with some rando Jedi following Breon and Zach. except they escape by shooting a wall with a torpedo and then hiding so it looks like they crashed into the wall Rando Jedi is clearly dumb as shit, because he falls for it. why is he there? idfk

i hate myself for making my parents read this. they must've been so disappointed. i bet that was the exact moment they realized why i was kicked out of honors classes after 7th grade.

chapter three! within the space of 57 words, they land on Yavin 4, spend the night in a hotel (do they even HAVE those on Y4????), Breon tells his son where to go, and then Zach takes off on his own.

i WANT to say Breon randomly gets killed at some point off-screen, but i honestly don't remember. too bad i can't keep it that way submitting to the mortifying ordeal of knowing myself here

mmkay so he heads to Dell, which has 11 moons and apparently extremely strong gravity that pulls the ship in, though there's no actual mention of the effects this would have on a human hanging out there or anything. Zach can't find a landing pad and instead lands the ship in a small field near a city.

Zach says 'people' and means 'humans'. kid's fucking xenophobic.

i'm now really glad this is short because it's excruciating.

he inexplicably gets stopped by two bounty hunters who are looking for a kid around his age LOL he namedrops his dad to scare them off

Zach then wanders around like "okay Breon McCoy is well known and i'm his son, so nobody can use me as bounty, unless i AM a bounty" and my brain just short-circuited a little

me: chapter four! he has no idea where these 'couriers' who are supposed to be awaiting him are, or even WHO they are Mary: nice going, Breon, you didn't give your kid any information me: Breon didn't do a great job prepping him for this, but that's what 57 words gets you, i guess

so he goes back to the Slave II and OH NOES IT'S GONE!!!!!!

a Dellian girl named Amandia is hanging around. that seems suspicious as fuck, but she tells Zach that a guy named Buz might've taken the ship and it's probably on Dell 2.

me: what the FUCK is going on in this paragraph Mary: I'M SO CONFUSED??????? me: who's Perrier???

like. okay. so i guess Breon told Zach to find the couriers so they could help him find the crystal… and maybe Perrier is the bounty he's trying to find…?

usually i can puzzle out my own writing, but this one is… really something

fuck it, moving on. 'couriers' are Dellians light enough to… fly from the surface of Dell to the moons without a ship?? this makes NO sense but i'm pretty sure it was ripped off that Boba Fett novel, so i'm sure there was a better explanation somewhere

at this point i'm just going to assume Breon's trying to bump off his son for insurance money or something and he's in cahoots with these guys. Amandia helped steal the ship, obviously.

okay, chapter five! Zach and Amandia are on a cliff, waiting for the gravity to shift. the explanation has something to do with the moons. idk.

so they step off the cliff and fall a bit and then just… start gliding through space, rising and falling with the gravity changes. again, 100% stolen from that novel. they eventually land on the moon (no idea how they breathed this entire time), but lol it's the wrong moon

yeah, Amandia's suspicious as fuck.

they do, however, make it to the correct moon. apparently "daylight never comes" there, so i'm going to assume it's tidally locked and they're just on the dark side. this inexplicably gives Zach an idea for his """"""""""""""""""""""""poem"""""""""""""""""""""

they walk for a while until they see another Dellian about Amandia's age, whatever that is. his name is… Noah. they need to use his speeder to get across the moon because Buz has his ship. how do you know that, Amandia… Zach isn't NEARLY suspicious enough for this line of work. she's so obviously working with this Buz dude, kiddo.

chapter six!

Zach. honey. she flies around on weird gravity tides. this girl doesn't give a FUCK about a super-fast speeder; she's trying to get you killed or sold into slavery or something.

so they take off in Noah's speeder, which is extremely fast. Zach's cool with this because he likes upgrading his own speeders, asks if this thing goes any faster, which ofc it does.

oh hey! we finally find out Zach lives on Naboo.

Noah's been to Kamino, apparently. i don't know how i missed the very clear fact that it's an extremely isolated planet and gets very very very few visitors

they see the Slave II! but suddenly it takes off and heads for another moon!!!!! SUSPENSO.

literally two pages left. i can't believe i packed so much into seven pages and yet there's absolutely no detail, action, exposition, character development, or even much in the way of PLOT here.

side note, i just remembered a part in my dream where R2-D2 had kidnapped a person and kept them buried in a shallow grave… but they were still alive and i saw him dig them up. their entire head had been skinned and they were like, weakly crying out for help. it was extremely creepy and fucked up. then C-3PO showed up and R2 quickly buried them again before 3PO noticed. so i guess i subconsciously think R2-D2 is some kind of sadistic serial killer or something? idk, man. let's go back to the story.

so Noah decides they can follow the Slave II in his own father's ship, hilariously called the 'Superfly'. he says he's eleven years old, too… so Amandia's just a kid also? maybe Buz is her dad and he's getting her started in the crime business early. wait wait no! i was wrong! it's ZACH who's eleven. Noah is thirteen and he's annoyed he can't have his own ship

they're so busy chatting they don't notice a "small fighter" approaching until it fires at them

and then there are like… five fighters? who fight each other? and one of them is Noah's brother… idk

anyway, they manage to land on Dell 8 after that, though the ship is slightly damaged from the hit they took

Mary: Is this entire 7 page story literally just jumping from moon to moon? me: PRETTY MUCH

they see Zach's ship but can't follow in their own, so Noah grabs a conveniently located speeder and they're off again!

chapter eight… they switch so Zach can drive… they catch up to the Slave II and Buz, whoever he is, gets out… they run past him onto the ship and he takes the speeder and leaves. that's. um. anticlimactic doesn't seem to cover it.

they hear something rattling around in the ship, but WHATEVER, Zach stops on the other moon and Noah leaves and then… well… you need to witness this for yourself.

i wasn't joking about the glove compartment thing. it's like the only thing from this story i really remembered lmfao also check OUT that amazing writing there.

Mary: Space glove compartments are definitely a thing, they have a whole thing with them in the Jedi Prince books, so you're just in a long line of wonderful ship glove compartment writers Mary: that being said, WHY WOULD HE PUT THE SUPER RARE AND VALUABLE CRYSTAL IN A GLOVE COMPARTMENT

chapter nine, Zach goes to a "government building" on Yavin 4 and hands over the crystal to some random official, who asks what he's doing here

look, i don't even know what this crystal is, what it does, why it's so valuable and everyone wants it… i just don't know.

me: Zach says he's looking for his father Mary: And here's where we find out…that his father is DEAD (I assume)

and then… AND THEN…

THE END. except for the """"""""""""""""""""""poem"""""""""""""""""" which is like five lines, doesn't rhyme, makes no sense, and hopefully got an F.

Mary: BRILLIANT ENDING, 5 STARS

what was the crystal for? why did Buz steal Zach's ship, and why did he give it up so easily? does Zach ever go home? does the rest of his family even know Breon died? BEATS ME MAN

it's amazing. it's so bad. half the cringe comes from the inescapable knowledge that i made my family members read this. thank god i don't remember how they reacted

i bet Breon faked his death maybe he gave Zach the ship in hopes his secret lover Buz would bump him off in the process of stealing it. then they'd take the crystal, pawn it, and go off to start a new life together. Buz's daughter Amandia helps out and comes to live with them. Noah never gets his own ship. the end.

#a true masterpiece #i will never be over that ending lmfao #writing

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wait-still-rendering · 1 year

Text

here is the original outline of The Strange Case of Kairi Uchida (which probably needs another title at this point). It is unfinished, but I wager it would have been like 50+ chapters long if I did finish writing it out lol. :) Enjoy what may never be.

@kessielrg @coffeetime88

Terminus

OUTLINE

The Strange Case of Kairi Uchida

1: Autumn - Strange occurrences are happening to Kairi so she goes off in search of answers and is now missing.

2: Downpour - Sora attempts to gather as many clues as possible that are related to Kairi’s disappearance.

3: Wayfaring Streets - With the help of Riku and Selphie, Sora heads for Radiant Garden to look for Kairi.

4: Catacombs of the Mind - Kairi attempts to piece together what is happening to her. The girl from the mirror guides her to Hollow Bastion’s castle which leads to a shocking discovery.

5: Terminus - Kairi has a choice to make and it isn’t an easy one. Sora and co find Kairi, but both parties are torn away from each other at the last moment. The shadowy monsters from before appear within the castle which triggers a lost memory for Sora, Riku, and Kairi.

6: The Mirrors of Time: As Sora and co explore the castle and its various traps, they come across a room full of mirrors and learn about an urban legend—the Heartless.

7: Astray - Kairi and Xion attempt to find a way back to Sora and co, but instead stumble upon a library that Kairi distinctly remembers visiting. The only problem is Radiant Garden and Hollow Bastion were separated before Kairi’s birth. They find a new ally in Roxas.

8: Murky Waters - Stuck in the room of mirrors, Sora, Riku, and Selphie must find a pathway through the mirrors.

9: Torch - It's a race against time to find the exit before the castle is overridden by Heartless. Kairi attempts to find a way to communicate this sentiment to her friends on the other side (Sora, Riku, Selphie.)

10: Bindings of the Undercity - Both groups fight their way out of the castle, but with no way back to Hollow Bastion’s entrance. They soon stumble upon a ghost train. The party is split on whether or not to get on or try to find a way back to Radiant Garden. In the end, Kairi boards the train leading to the rest of the other members to also get on. The train leads them to what they soon learn is the Underworld.

11: Tidal Waves - As they have no choice but to move forward, tensions rise. Kairi finally learns why strange things have been happening to her.

12: Storm - A fight breaks out within the group which leads to an accidental teleportation.

13: Clockwork - The gang finds themselves out at sea in an unfamiliar airship. It isn't until they land that they find out they have traveled into a foreign reality.

14: Shards - The flickering starts up again for Kairi who now knows the flickerings are memories of different lifetimes.

15: Childhood Pathways - The gang comes across a photo album filled with memories from different lifetimes. Endings. They have a choice to make.

16: The Door to Oblivion - Heartless appear once more. Kairi sees flashes of the Keyblade Graveyard.

17: Celestial Affairs - They land in Scala ad Caelum, a bustling city full of spirits from all times. Five houses rule over them—Bear, Snake, Unicorn, Fox, Leopard.

18: Walls of the Silver Palace - The group splits up in order to investigate the five houses. When they uncover a new discovery, they must either prepare for war or find another reality to jump to.

19: Paradigm Madness - Fearing the uprising, everyone flees Scala ad Caelum and finds themselves in unfamiliar territory once again. It isn’t until they gather their barings that they realize they are centuries back in another reality in a place called Gaia. Selphie remembers scraps of another lifetime in Balamb Garden.

20: Breaching Threads - As the gang travels through Gaia (FF9), they attempt to find their footing. They soon come across a familiar face. Roxas grapples with the unhappy memories he has of his past life.

Characters

Kairi Uchida

Selphie Tilmitt

Riku Miyano

Sora Irino

Xion Hikari

Roxas Uchiyama

Don't trust blindly.

Sora was never one to wake up early. His thin blankets lay on the ground as they always did no matter how many times he attempted to wrap himself up in them at night. Destiny Islands was hotter than the blazing sun on its worst days and mildly chilly on its best days.

It should have been indicative to him that something was not quite right when he looked at the time and saw the red numbers spread out.

5:02 in the morning.

Tangles of clothes were strewn across Sora’s bedroom floor. When he awoke at exactly 5:02 that morning, he let out a string of curses as he stumbled over the combined mess of dirty laundry and a half-read book aptly placed near his bedside.

Most days Sora wouldn't dream of getting out of bed at such an ungodly hour, but it was as if an unknown entity forced him out of his slumber.

He looked toward the calendar. November 3rd. Kairi would be home soon. A smile found its way to his lips.

Perhaps Sora should have realized there was something horribly, horribly wrong, but Sora did not have that epiphany because he had no reason to believe anything was wrong. The quiet of early morning almost made Sora crawl back into bed, but when he caught sight of a streak of white, his weariness dissipated. It was snowing.

It was snowing on Destiny Islands.

He snapped a quick picture before sending it into the group chat so Riku and Kairi could see.

Hours from now, Sora would be on a train heading for Radiant Garden with Riku and Selphie in tow.

Kairi’s hands trailed alongside the smooth spine of one of the more ornate books within the castle’s library.

#fanfic #fanfiction #kingdom hearts #no this is not bc its kingdom heart's anniversary #that was a happy accident lmao #i hope u all enjoy the unfinished outline

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saintcheryl · 6 months

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i lived in a college town from 9 to 13 and then moved away and then went to college there 4 years later and it was such an odd feeling. i distinctly remember crying my eyes out on a swingset between classes because i went to my old favorite boba place and realized it wasn’t as good as i remembered. i’ve long since graduated now but it feels weird when i go back to visit and see all my old haunts that have closed and all the things i used to enjoy and be good at that i can no longer do… but also now i have better headphones and an ipad and the shoes college me always wanted and i wish i could go back in time and hand them to exhausted 19 year old me blasting music way too loud over $10 headphones trying to take notes on the most busted laptop you ever saw

its so odd!!!! time sure does keep moving forward. fucked up if true. i confidently set out to take transit like i normally did here but i got rly confused bc the name of a station has changed in the past years and i didn’t know and i suddenly felt like an outsider in a place that used to be home. but yeah like im a slightly different person now too and im in a better place mentally than i was when i lived here and yet i yearn for it but the things i yearn for are things i can build in my life again if i try. i will always have a spiritual tie to this place and still consider it a home (esp cuz so much family lives out here + my parents r from this area) but that doesnt mean its bad that im not here anymore. and thank u for sharing ur experience i love humans and our shared wistfulness as we age

#just getting to responding to this cuz ive been Busy but its been on my mind since i saw it #but similarly to u growing up there. i visited boston and new england so much as a kid bc of the family here #so i was also building off of those memories when i came here for college #the layers add up

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eruden-writes · 2 years

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For the prompt submissions a vampire that feels guilty after feeding/attacking someone so they leave obscenely valuable ancient artifacts as payment/an apology?

When I sat down to write this, I didn't anticipate it becoming a 4.5k story.

I'm also dabbling in 2nd person, so enjoy!

---

You wake up late that morning with a groan, sunlight trying to force its way in through your closed blinds.

Everything hurts. Your legs, your arms, your back, your head, your neck, everything throbs. Still groggy, you try to remember what happened last night. You’re still dressed in what you remember wearing yesterday. You’re even still in your shoes.

Thankfully, you're in your own bed as well, you eventually realize as you push yourself upright. The sight of your familiar rumpled comforter and room eases some initial concerns warbling about your brain. But there's still more to have.

Partying or anything strenuous hadn't been on your calendar last night, so what hap-

Your fingertips graze over something on your neck. Something that feels suspiciously like a bandage. Narrowing your eyes, you force your wobbly legs from the bed and duck into your darkened bathroom.

The lights buzz overhead after you hit the switch. An anticipatory horror swells in your chest as your eyes settle on your reflection in the mirror. A bandage is wrapped around your throat. The image reminds you of an urban legend about a woman whose head falls off after the removal of a lifelong bandage.

Your shaking fingers touch it as the faintest memories shift in your mind. Last night, you went to see a movie! It was an old black-and-white movie at the vintage theater a few blocks away. While your friends had all declined to go with you, there had been quite a few bodies in the theater seats last night. And on your walk home…

Your eyebrows furrow. On your walk home, it had been dark. Strangely dark. Like the streetlights had failed to come on well into the evening dark.

And you had been walking.

Then running. You remember the sound of your sneakers scuffing desperately on pavement.

And the echoes of something behind you.

Movement behind you startles you. It takes a short second to realize it’s the bathroom door that caught your attention. It’s not even moving!

Well… until it does begin to swing.

Your eyes widen, stomach dropping, as a clawed hand reaches around the edge of the bathroom door. Survival instincts spin you around, hands fumbling for anything nearby, as the door latches closed.

Everything in your floundering mind stills as the thing behind the door is revealed.

It looks like a person. It is distinctly person-shaped. A tall and lanky person, dressed in layers of musty-smelling disintegrating fabric; the cloth so ruined, you couldn’t discern its original color. Over everything, it wore a large and far more well-kept trench coat that barely hit its knees.

But its spindly fingers are still inhumanly long, still tipped with curving claws that you remember grappling against. And how easily it restrained you. And you remember - you remember - its face shifting in the dark. Its mouth widening, its teeth growing into vicious little points, its nose becoming flatter and ears growing large and pointy and its eyes glowing red.

The sudden rush of memories nearly topples you over. This had been the thing you’d been running from last night! Your heart races just remembering it.

Oh, you had no clue when you started to run. Of course not. You thought someone was stalking you, intent to mug or sexually assault you.

“Many apologies. This mus-” The thing reaches a hand toward you, spindly fingers and claws crooked.

You scream, grabbing the nearest items from the bathroom sink to wing at the creature. Empty and full bottles of a number of toiletries hurtles in the air at it. It doesn’t even budge. Even as a toothbrush and a hefty bottle of mouthwash and a stick of deodorant and more come flying at it. The most it moves is a wince as a hairbrush smashes into its face.

Your chest heaves with panting breaths as you look wildly around, your potential projectiles now depleted.

“As I was saying,” the thing continued again, though this time they made a concerted effort to not move toward you. “Many, many apologies for this intrusion.”

Sense finally broke into your chaotic swirl of thoughts. Even with near-hyperventilating gasps, you yell, “What do you want? What did you do to me? How did we get back here?”

“I’m very sorry! I just awoke from a very long sleep and was a bit disoriented.” Its face creases with concern and misery as their hands, those fingers, grasp at one another. It tugs and fidgets with its own digits, its pathetic red gaze nothing but wretched. “I saw you at the moving picture and something just…”

It trails off and attempts to find the appropriate word by raising its hands. Its fingers wiggle, the claws catching the light of the bathroom.

At your uncomprehending look, its hands fall and its shoulders hunch near its pointed ears. “I just got very hungry.”

“And how are we here?” You demand, motioning toward the bathroom and implying your apartment at large.

“I’m assuming you’re asking how I know this is your home,” the thing mumbles, pointed ears drooping as it returns to fidgeting with its fingers. Your expression hardens as you nod, making a gesture for it to continue. It radiates wretchedness as it answers, “The blood, you see, carries memories and-”

You groan, running your hands down your face with crooked fingers pushing against your cheeks. This couldn’t be real! This was some sort of hallucination or even a dream! You couldn’t imagine why you’d be hallucinating, though, and you knew you weren’t asleep.

You weren’t ready to accept what this thing was telling you. You weren’t even ready to accept it actually being a physical entity! If you did, then you’d have to come to terms with a blood-sucking, bat-like creature existing in this reality and you- Nope! Your brain shut down the line of thought, like steel doors shutting out an invasion.

“I left penitence at your bedside,” they mumble, their red gaze once more on their own hands. With as high as their shoulders hunch, they look about ready to fold in on themselves.

You throw the creature a glare, which it seems to feel - even without looking at you - as it flinches.

Better than being terrified, you clung to the annoyance as you edged to the bathroom door. Being irritated was better than breaking down into tears as the world you knew suddenly fractured as fictitious things became reality.

Opening the door and ducking into your bedroom, your eyes scan the area. It was mostly as you left it. At least the thing hadn’t rummaged through your belongings. Then again, if what it said about blood and memories was true, it wouldn’t have to.

With a savage shake of your head, you dislodged the thought. No, it wasn’t real. It was fictional. You were hallucinating and your brain was just giving you too much to work with! That was it. Yep.

Your attention finally lands on what must be the thing’s penitence. With narrowing eyes, you slowly approach the small box on your nightstand. It appears to be made of discreet metal, dingy and old. With a careful hand, you flip the lid open. It opens easily and you stare at the offering.

Inside, a small fortune of gold coins sits in the velvet-lined box. As you sift through the coins, a small carved statue catches between your fingers. You stare at it, eyebrows raising as it reminds you of those fertility figurines you’ve seen in museums.

Pensive, you glance back over your shoulder, to the bathroom. The creature hovers in the doorway, half behind the door. Skepticism tints your voice as you ask, “You’re giving me all this for one meal of blood?”

They give an awkward cringe of a smile. You try your best to not be distracted by their interlocking rows of sharp teeth as they sheepishly answer, “I was hoping to stay until the sun goes down.”

You narrow your eyes, giving a hum of disbelief. The weight of the possibly ancient fertility statue shifts in your hand as your thumb grazes its curves.

“And maybe another meal?” They squeak, ducking further behind the door. Shame radiates from them, as if just asking for a meal with a room was the height of disgraceful. Given how they ate, you supposed it could very well be.

At that thought, your hand goes to your throat. You press your fingertips against the bandage and an injury aches beneath the pressure. Your stomach twists as foggy memories of teeth sinking into your skin as you struggle lights up in your head. Of blood dripping, tickling your skin. Of the creature giving a contented deep-chested rumble as they held you tight. Conflicting sensations knot your insides up.

“I need to do some things,” you suddenly inform the creature as you pocket the statute and heft the box into your hands. A sudden thought blooms in your head and you turn to glare at the creature, who still looks at you with doleful eyes from behind the bathroom door. “You stay there. I’m opening all the blinds before I leave, so fair warning.”

After the creature nods in acquiescence and closes the bathroom door, you go about your promise of opening all the blinds. Light floods your bedroom and the parts of your apartment that the windows’ light reaches. Thankfully, the creature didn’t acknowledge or realize your small home had pockets of forever-shadow, where no natural light hit.

Hastily, you shake the thought from your head. You don’t know what else this thing can do, like read minds or sense intent. You try to keep your mind blank as you place the box in a bag, with your keys and wallet. After a quick Internet search, you shove your cellphone into the bag and head out, locking your apartment behind you.

You try not to think about how you possibly just locked a vampire into your home, as you head toward the nearest certified appraiser’s office.

x x x

When you return, afternoon daylight is still forcefully streaming into your apartment. You check that the bathroom door in your bedroom is still securely shut, before sitting down at your computer.

Eyebrows raised at the appraiser’s office, when you brought in the coins and statute. The former appeared to be a particular mint, lost at sea to some tragic shipwreck. The latter was harder to pinpoint and required higher specialty to assess.

You’d left the office with not only recompense for about a third of the coins - the other two-thirds still in your possession, along with the statue - but a URL to a particular forum. You’d visited it via the bus’s wi-fi while en route to another destination. From the forum, you were given a list of further necessities. Whether you raised suspicions, you weren’t sure.

Hell, part of you wasn’t even sure what you were up to. The shock still hadn’t worn off. Nor had you completely accepted the fact you locked a vampire into your bathroom.

Even with the support of the Monster Research Forum, the facts refused to sink in. You thought, maybe, when you picked up the garlic from the grocer or the wooden stakes from the hardware store or even the silver from the thrift store or the holy water from the church, you’d feel more secure accepting the knowledge.

But, no. You still felt like it was all a farce.

Even signing into the highly secure, invitation-only forum felt like a joke.

Something just refused to click and you were afraid only one thing would cement the realization into place.

Sitting at your computer desk, the webcam on but not connected to any app, you unwound the bandage from your throat. Another piece of gauze stuck to where the injury had dully throbbed earlier. You stared at it through your computer screen, taking a deep breath.

There was no point in dawdling. Reaching your hand to the square of gauze, you gently peeled it away, bracing yourself for whatever you saw beneath it.

There were no blood, no scabs, no bruising.

Only two circular scars graced your throat.

The world sways under you as you slap your hand over the scars, your brain unable to understand why an injury received just hours ago was now a scar. You breathe through your nose, staring blankly at your keyboard, trying to still the panic in your head.

Fear-fueled anger rushes to your head again. Your eyes fall on the bag of accumulated safety measures; the stakes, the holy water, the garlic, the silver cross. With a shaking hand, you snatch up the bag and storm to your room, to your bathroom.

You pause only long enough to grab a stake, douse it in holy water, before yanking the bathroom door open. The thought to stop, to think, to consider was ignored by the panicked hate in your head.

It was easier to strike in anger, than wallow in fear as your understanding of the world shattered.

Thoughts of the fight to come, the tussle for survival, the shrieks and possible pain frothed in your head. But this had to be done. You wanted normalcy back. Not this knowledge.

The only thing that finally stopped you was the sight of it, hanging upside down by the curve of their feet hooked on your shower curtain rod.

Its eyes were closed and its sleeping features held a solemn expression, hands crossed over its chest. While marveling at their dignified face, you almost missed the way their trench coat ridiculously bunched up around their shoulders, the excess fabric pulled by gravity. The rest of their clothes didn’t fare much better. Ragged, dirty cloth bunched up, showing off ragged sneakers and socks and ankles previously hidden by trousers. Not to mention the way the shirt drooped toward its chest, leaving their stomach on display.

All of this detail only had the barest of seconds to register. As the bathroom door slammed open, the startled creature’s eyes flew wide. They jolted and the force of their movement made the flimsy tension curtain rod wobble.

With a cacophonous clatter, the creature and rod and shower curtain crashed into the tub.

You dropped the stake as all vicious thoughts dissipated. Without thinking, you neared the creature, alarm and concern taking control of you. “Are you alright?”

“I’ll be fine,” they groan, raising into a sitting position. There was further rustling as they freed themselves from the tangle of the shower curtain. When they finally managed to free themselves and set the rod aside, they looked ruefully up at where you stood. “Bit odd of you to ask, considering the stake and all.”

They nodded behind you and you looked, your eyes catching the forgotten stake on the floor, the wood still dark with the holy water.

You bristled, realizing they knew what you were up to. Your body tensed, bracing for retaliation, as you looked back at them. “What of it?”

“Just odd,” they shrugged. The creature still didn’t move to stand. They simply sat, legs crossed but knees awkwardly folded up awkwardly to fit the small tub, as they stared up at you. You got the impression they were simply resigned.

“You’re not angry?” Uncertainty hedged into your words, your eyebrows furrowing with confusion.

“No,” their voice was soft as a sad smile teased at their lips. There was the briefest parting of lips, the smallest sight of their sharp teeth, before they caught themself. Their attention went to their hands, resting between their awkwardly squished cross-legged position. “Being irate with you would be highly hypocritical of me. I cannot be angry with you choosing survival.”

You tilt your head, comprehension settling into your thoughts. “Because that’s what you were doing.”

The creature doesn’t look up as they nod.

Silence stretches between you two as you struggle to figure out what to do with this information. It doesn’t fit neatly with your fear or anger. It hits on something else that’s been dwelling in your synapses. A quiet sort of curiosity. Which is met with a grudging sort of understanding.

“Do not get me wrong, I am not trying to excuse my actions.” Misreading your quiet as further agitation, the creature suddenly looks up at you. It raises its hands, its spindly fingers splayed but lacking its claws from earlier. “I was slumbering for such a long time and, as I said, disoriented. When I scented you in that theater I-”

Before it could babble further, your surprise makes you blurt out, “You scented me?”

“I, I…” Panic paints itself across the creature’s face, their eyes wide. Their ears droop as you stare at them and their shoulders hunch. Their eyes avert from your face. “Yes. You were the most tantalizing scent I came across, since waking weeks ago.”

You narrow your eyes, curiosity taking the reins fully from shock and fear and rage. “Why didn’t you feed for weeks?”

“I didn’t need to, at first. Then I didn’t want to,” the creature shrugs, their nose wrinkling. “Nothing smelled good.”

“Until me.” Your words bring back their shame.

Once more, their shoulders hunch, their fingers twisting and eyes watching them. The creature makes a strangled sound in their throat, not really wanting to answer but affirming your words.

Awkward fully settles over them as you think. In your pocket, the weight of the statue lingers.

“A third of the coins you gave me covers a year of rent,” you begin to say as you crouch beside the bathtub. The thought is not fully settled in your own head, so you feel it out, glancing from a blank spot on the wall to the creature. If this thing could provide you money to live off of, while you pursued more fulfilling careers, perhaps they weren’t so bad of an opportunity. “I have no clue how much the little fertility goddess is worth, but it could be a lot.”

Something in your voice must prompt the creature to look at you. You find yourself pinned by their red eyes, an uncertain hope threatening to shine in them. Their fidgeting fingers still, giving you their full attention.

“I’m not making any promises,” you say suddenly, leaning back a little from their attentive gaze. A strange warmth creeps up your body and you try to mentally shove it away. “But if you want to overpay for room and board, who am I to stop you?”

Their eyes narrow and what they must think is a shrewd expression crosses their features. “And meals?”

The place they last fed, where their lips and teeth last touched, throbs. A tingle traces down your spine and spreads into your veins. There is a thought, a realization, you can’t quite latch onto. Perhaps a memory from last night that was locked away, whether by your own shock or the creatures yet known abilities.

“Provided on the contingency they stop indefinitely when I say so.” Even as you say it, you feel it’s against your better judgment. The creature’s eyes light up, forcing you to anxiously add, “And that you don’t suck me dry. And if you do anything that makes me fear for my life, you accept I’ll end you.”

“Agreed.” They sit up so straight so fast, you nearly fall backward, forgetting how tall they are when not in a perpetual slump. An awkward hopeful smile pulls across their lips and, with their fingers twiddling once more in their lap, they ask, “I’m hungry now, if that is acceptable.”

You shoot them a withering look, but apparently they have gotten over their initial reticence. They smile, partly cheek and partly awkward, as their shoulders arch.

With a resigned sigh, you scoot closer to the bathtub and their ears perk up. They, too, situate themselves a little closer, turning at their waist to better access you.

“Do you need to feed as often as humans?” The words come out laughably calm, despite the mounting anxiety in your chest. As if you had this conversation a million times before.

“No,” they replied, just as conversationally. Faintly, you wonder if they have had this conversation before. You try not to stiffen as their hands grab your shoulders, turning you so they can see your neck better. “I think I am just particularly hungry after my long slumber and following fast.”

“I see,” you mumble, trying to shove away the feelings of being little more than a prime cut for this thing.

Whether they sense your frustration or simply ignore it, you don’t know. Perhaps they are already lost in hunger, as their lips skirt your throat and they inhale deeply. A delighted sound comes from their throat.

You shiver, biting down a whimper and wrenching your eyes shut as their lips find the same spot as last night. Their mouth and tongue are warmer than you expected, making your stomach flip. Their fingers tighten on your shoulders, those curved claws forming at their fingertips and biting into the fabric of your shirt.

They pull you closer, a hiss escaping their mouth as their teeth sink into your neck. First it’s just a prick of pain, then a hot agony as their fangs sink deeper. Instinctively, your body tries to jerk away, but they growl and hold your shoulders tighter. Against the cool lip of the tub, your fingers tremble.

Then you feel your blood being sucked from your body. A strange sensation of pressure and suction that pulls the hemoglobin from your vein. Not altogether painful or unpleasant, but unnerving.

Despite agreeing to it, despite the relatively certain comfort they weren’t going to kill you, tears still leak from the corner of your eyes. Your hands drift from the tub to their arms, your own fingers mimicking their hold on you. You don’t know if you’re trying to push them away or pull them closer as your head presses against their shoulder, exposing your throat more to their hungry mouth.

Something disintegrates in you. The pain still echoes in your body, but it’s joined by a sense of pleasure.

Pleasure that sends sights and smells and sounds and sensations all through your brain.

Grappling togas and spilled wine and wanton excitement. A litany of smiling faces, of desire-glazed eyes, of lips stained with red. Powdered wigs and skirts made of miles of fabric and sinful sweet scents. Heeled shoes clacking and full bodied laughter. The scent of the sea, the sound of a storm. The smell of gunpowder, of graveyards, of spicy-sweet smoke. Familiar and unfamiliar touches all over your body. Nails dragging across every inch of your body.

“Please, Tabaeus,” you gasp, not entirely sure what you’re asking for. All you know is now you’re pulling them closer, wanting to drown yourself in these sensations and these images. A million lifetimes of experiences, of delight and desire and pain and death and uncertainty and success.

Your words force them to yank away from your throat. They stare down at you, their chest heaving with excited breaths and eyes wide. You stare blearily back at them, confused. Your attention focuses on the red coating their lips and their chin.

The plethora of feelings flooding your head, your body, drains away. Leaving you feeling cold and hollow and more than a little confused. Despite the feeling of cotton in your head, you push your face from their shoulder. As you move, your throat twinges with pain and you feel the blood ooze down your neck.

“I-I am sorry.” Tabaeus’s fingers flex against your shoulders, as if they want to simultaneously release you while dragging you closer. “That is something that happens on occasion.”

“What was that?” The question comes out confused and perhaps a little harsher than you meant.

“The best I can guess is my past,” they release you as they answer, their shoulders once more hunching. “Or maybe the lives of those I’ve… feasted on.”

You stare at them, eye tracing along their shamed features as curiosity - more so than disgust - toys at their words. “You don’t know?”

“No. This whole thing is very confusing.” They heave a heavy sigh, unable to meet your gaze. Their hands move as they speak, putting their frustration into actions. “Despite what I am, memories do get lost to time and I never was fully, truly, orientated.”

“I see,” is all you can manage to say as your inquisitive mind fights against a sudden fatigue.

Then turn back to your abruptly, their red eyes earnest as they grip at the lip of the tub. “If this alters your offer, I understand. I-”

Without thinking, you cover their mouth with your hand, your eyes closing. A desire for quiet settles on your overstimulated brain. You miss how their eyes widen and their shoulders slump at your touch.

“Give me time to process this,” you say quietly, cracking your eyes open to gauge their reaction.

They nod behind your hand, concern prickling in their eyes. Their attention flicks to something on your face and you realize there’s still dampness on your cheeks from your tears. With your free hand, you hastily wipe at the tears stains.

“For now, we should get cleaned up,” you say even while your brain is still preoccupied with what just happened. You had finally accepted the reality of vampires, only to find the one you know may have limited answers.

Despite your preoccupation, Tabaeus seems to have more direction. They rise from the tub and tend to your wound, albeit after cleaning their bloody face. You still sit on the floor, leaning against the tub, until they are finished.

It is only when they softly say your name, you realize you’ve nodded off. Obviously, blood loss does that to one. But your brain latches onto another curious realization. “How do you know my name?”

Once more, Tabaeus gives their awkward-shy smile, the one that is more reminiscent of a cringe than a grin. “I told you, there’s memories in blood.”

“Oh,” you say weakly. You glance toward the door, the thought of your bed sounding very good at the moment. Without a word, Tabaeus gathers you up in their arms. You don’t even have the wits to fret, before you find them depositing you on your mattress.

You’re a little shocked to realize how dark it is outside. Where did the time go?

As Tabaeus moves to straighten up, likely to leave you to rest, your hand catches them by the front of their shirt. Startled red eyes stare down at you. Sleepily, your tone takes on a playful lilt as your lips pucker, “Don’t go skipping out on rent now.”

For the first time since you met them, Tabaeus chuckles. It’s soft and gentle. Just like their manner of speaking, you realize.

“On my word, I will not skip out on rent,” they reassure you, as they gently remove your hand from their tattered shirt. They press their lips to your knuckles and, though it sends a flare of heat through you, you tiredly chalk it up to sealing their promise.

You close your eyes once more, hand dropping to our bed. Tabaeus’s footfalls punctuate the air as you feel sleep dragging you further and further down.

Before the darkness completely swallows you up, part of you is alarmed to realize something.

You desperately hope Tabaeus is still there when you awake.

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