#i broke a needle sewing the belly on. it was a struggle

[penciltopbear]

It's all done! My giant crochet Lapras!! It came out to about two feet long and I'm very proud of it :)

(Pattern is by 1UpCrochet on Etsy, it's made for worsted weight but I used blanket yarn)

[pbandjesse]

Today was a pretty good day. I am very worried about James. They are struggling tonight. But I hope they can sleep easier.

I slept alright last night. I woke up a few times but mostly I was alright. James left early and took an Uber to work because while we now know that the light rail doesn't run that early on Sundays, we now also know that the bus doesn't either??? It's crazy to me. Like people work on Sundays! People who need public transportation work on Sunday?? I'm glad James made it to work okay. And I appreciated the extra couple hours of sleep.

When I woke up I felt kind of bleh. My body feels weird. I feel a little weird. But I was alright.

I got washed and dressed. I had to change my shirt because the seams were bothering me. But I got a different one on and was much more comfortable and cozy. I would change again to add a layering tank top before I left. But I'm the end I was very comfortable.

I brought some snacks and headed to the museum. It was chilly today. But it was nice. A windy but beautiful day.

James was a little low. I didn't want to bother them much. They were just chilling at the front desk and watching the world cup. We rooted for Argentina. Who would end up winning so that was exciting.

The church was in Decker. I would go post up in the garment loft. I brought my quilting project and my sewing machine and honestly just had the best time.

I would spend the entire day working on this. I would make a few trips around the musuem to talk to guests. I even had someone from the church come back to the garment loft to talk about art and religion. He for sure was trying to convert me but no one is going to tell me something I don't already know. I think religion is incredibly human. Wanting meaning, purpose, to feel like everything matters, that they matter. And I think that's great that people find comfort in community.

But mostly I worked on my quilt. This is 300 squares. And I would the last 4 rows completed. The way I made this I did 30 sets of 10 and then sewed 3 10s together to have 10 30s. I trimmed those down so the panels would be more even. And then sewed that all together.

I worked from 10 until around 1at that point in the project. I had spoken to 10 or so people. Everyone was really nice.

And after a snack and giving James a lunch break (where they went across the street to check on the bike shop which has apparently been broken into and the police called James for some unknown reason???) I would start figuring out how to turn my quilted panel into a bag.

I think I'm going to try to make a bunch of bags. I used to love making bags and I know how to do a lot of things better now. And while it took a while to make the panel I love how the bag came together. It is such a good size and I can't wait to try to make more with the other quilt panels I've made.

Once the bag was made I started working on straps with some scrap fabric. My first strap came out so good. The second one has some flaws. But I'm still really excited about the whole thing.

Right at the end of the day as I'm attaching the second strap my needle broke. And I didn't have any extras. I was very bummed but at least it happened closer to 3.

We closed the museum. And once James was done counting their drawer we went to have dinner.

We were going to go to iron rooster but they closed at 3 so instead we went to Little Havana and it was so good!

We didn't talk a ton. I think we were both just beat. I did asl James football questions. They ordered a steak sandwich and I got a fancy avacado wanton roll that I loved. I told the waiter how I was excited to eat something interesting. I feel like I never get to eat something unusual but also really pretty. So that was really cool.

We finished our meal with a shared piece of cake. And headed out.

We had to stop at theater project to get James's laptop charger. My belly hurt and I really wanted to get home. And so James took me home as quick as they could.

When we got back here my new clogs came and they are perfect. I can't wait to wear them. I felt better being home. James would get in bed to finish editing their podcast. And I finished the strap on my bag.

We would hang out in bed for a while. And then go and go all of our advents we haven't checked for a few days. We have so much jam now. I'm excited to make cookies tomorrow hopefully.

I took a bath and watched a documentary. I pulled out my quilt fabrics to see how many bags I think I could make with what I have sitting around. I am excited to try that this week. It's a good project to focus on.

Now I am going to go put some more water in the fish tank so it'll be quieter. I just moved some pillows around to make James hopefully more comfy. And I'll start winding down for sleep soon.

I hope tomorrow is beautiful. And we can all feel good. Until next time everyone. Sleep well!!

[fiction-giga]

Halloween of '89

30 Day Blurb Challenge - list link here

Day 17 - Following a family tradition

Dad!Eddie Munson x AFAB!Reader

Warnings - Land Before Time references (not really a warning though)

Word Count - 1.0k

Delilah was ecstatic for Halloween. Like could barely wait for the holiday. Everyday when she woke up, no matter how many times you had told her the previous day that Halloween was still a few weeks away, she would stare up at you with her little doe eyes, and would ask you if Halloween was today.

It broke your heart to have to tell her no. The way her lower lip quivered in disappointment before she sighed her little, "otay" and walked away with her head hung low. This was exactly why you told Eddie not to hype up Halloween as much as he did.

But the day has finally arrived. The day of knocking on strangers doors and asking them for a piece of candy while dressed in an elaborate costume was here. Little Delilah screamed that morning you finally answered yes to her recurring question.

"I'm going to get ready!"

Before you could even stop her, she was sprinting off to her room to put her costume on.

Eddie walked out of the bathroom rubbing his eyes with a small smile on his face, bedhead still very much intact. "What's that all about?"

"Well, someone got her a little bit too excited for Halloween. So now, after asking every morning, it's finally Halloween, so D is getting dressed for the occasion."

"What?" He snorted as he plopped himself down in the barstool on the other side of the kitchen island.

As if on cue, Delilah comes barreling out of her room, Cera costume on backwards. The tail of the triceratops onesie wagging out in front of her as she blindly navigates her way down the hallway.

"Momma, I can't see!" Her wines made both you and Eddie laugh.

Sure, it was an inappropriate thing to do, but it's not like she was hurt or anything extreme. She was fine, just in need of a little help. Trust me, you both have laughed at much worse than your daughter trying to walk with her dinosaur costume backwards.

You both helped her out of the costume, then back in the correct way. Eddie seized the opportunity to blow a few raspberries on her tummy before you slipped the onesie back over her head.

Her little face fit perfectly in the face whole, cute little horns sticking out from the orange rostral around her head. Her dark little waves stuck out of the hole wildly, but she didn't pay it any attention. She was just happy to be in the thing. It was truly one of the cutest things you had ever seen.

The homemade costume was well made, courtesy of Mrs. Wheeler and her sewing skills she inherited from her grandma. It truly was a luxury for Delilah, seeing as Eddie struggled for ten minutes straight just to thread the needle and you could barely darn a sock.

"AH! There's a dinosaur in our kitchen!" Eddie yelled out sarcastically as he made an exasperated face to you.

"Oh no, what will we ever do?" You played along.

Eddie scooped her up and twirled her around wildly as she let out a piercing giggle.

"Daddy!" Her high pitched voice cried out in joy.

After a few minutes of tossing her up in the air (safely, of course) he hoisted her in his arms. He placed quick little kisses all over her face.

"Daddy Topps! Daddy Topps!" She grabbed fistfuls of his long hair and folded the strand across his forehead, assuming she was trying to give him the triceratop crown like she had.

"What! No! It's too early! Halloween doesn't start until tonight!" Eddie whined playfully.

"Pwease?" She dropped all his hair from her chubby little hands and pouted. She flashed those little doe eyes and Eddie caved instantly.

She really knew how to work him.

"Fine." He rolled his eyes sarcastically at her before placing her on the ground to go get changed. "Attack mommy while I'm gone." He whispered in her ear before he patted her on the belly. He snuck away fast as Delilah roared before charging straight into your legs.

You playfully fought with Delilah until Eddie resurfaced from your bedroom in full costume. It was a much more toned down one, opting for a black t-shirt and jeans rather than a one-si. Atop his head rested the signature gray triceratops rostral you had made for him a few weeks ago.

"Ah!" D giggled once her eyes laid on her father. She quickly abandoned you to run over to him quickly. He picked her up and held her in her arms, giggling at her crazy laughter. "Your turn mommy!"

You had gotten dressed in a similar fashion as Eddie, sticking with the a dark shirt and grey jeans. You had even crafted yourself a little headband with a slightly smaller triceratops rostral glued to the top. Even though Mommy Topps isn't really a character in the movies, Delilah still decided she wanted you to be a part of the group costume. You couldn't turn her sweet little smile down.

Eddie expressed to you that it was a bit of a Munson family tradition to surprise the elders with the costumes, so Wayne had been left out in the cold for a while now. Wayne apparently wanted the same type of normalcy for Eddie as he had when he was younger. Wayne continued to encourage Eddie to dress up for Halloween, even in his later years, but more importantly, to keep it a secret from him.

For months, Wayne has been trying to guess what Delilah had chosen for the family costume now that she was old enough to actually pick. The first three Halloween's didn't count apparently, seeing as the now four-year-old couldn't really express her likes and dislikes like she can now.

So once the clock struck five, you packed up all yours and Delilah's stuff and headed on down to the Munson trailer.

"Alright D, are you ready to show grandpa your costume?" Eddie asked the toddler who bounced excitedly in his arms.

"Yes!"

You knocked on the door. A few seconds passed before you heard Wayne's footsteps grow louder and before you knew it, you were faced with the gruffy man. Delilah let out her best roar, one she had been practicing for months at the sight of her grandpa.

"Woah, is that a family of dinosaurs I see?" He smiles at the three of you.

"Grandpa!" She almost fell out of Eddie's arms with how fast she reached over for Wayne.

He scooped her out of his nephew's arms and propped her on his hip. He smiles down at the giggling girl before turning to you and Eddie. He tried to hold in a snort at the sight of his "metal", usually chain clad nephew, now dressed in a costume from an animated movie made for children.

"Oh I gotta get a picture of this."

[capricornus-rex]

A Legacy Begun (5)

gif not mine. found and saved in pinterest

Chapter 5: The Child | Cal Kestis x Reader

Summary: After a long time of running and fighting, you and Cal decided to finally settle down after all these years to raise a family. However, it was never a life of peace whilst the shadow of the Empire looms over your heads.

Other prompt/s in play: Anon 1′s prompt, Anon 2‘s baby prompt + their follow-up prompt & fic idea

A/N: Don’t worry, no one died of sadness after giving birth.

Also posted in AO3

Tags: Scruffy! Cal Kestis, Daddy! Cal Kestis, Adult! Cal Kestis, Jedi Family, Jedi Offspring, Force-Sensitive Offspring, Settling Down, Rebel Alliance

Chapters: 1 – 2 – 3 | Previous: Part 4 | Next: Part 6 | Masterlist

5 of ?

The months flew by, it only felt like yesterday when you told the news and now you’re currently in the ninth month. Any day now, the baby would be due. But you haven’t felt the signs yet.

The feeling of not holding a lightsaber and seeing action for a while was perhaps the biggest adjustment you’ve ever made; recalling the years where you’ve kept yourself low from the Imperials’ radar and having to limit the times you held your saber, this was far different than that.

To pass the time, you and Cal often strolled together just to keep yourself active. The Mantis continued its travels from time to time, but it would always find itself home in Cerinda and would occasionally return to Bogano for old time’s sake. The two of you stopped by the stream that branched out of the lake, something about that part of the forest became like a magnet to the both of you. Even in your expectant state, you were still the same sprightly girl who would dip her toes into the cold water at any given chance.

“I’ve been thinking,” you began. Beaming brightly and excitedly as you spoke, “I want to have our baby in this one planet that my master and I used to go to for a campaign.”

“Oh?” Cal propped his cheek against his fist, dreamily gazing at you while you pluck flowers by the shoreline and set them floating into the gentle current.

“The planet, Ilaro,” you craned your head to him. “It’s a neutral planet by the Outer Rim, but it’s very peaceful there. No Imperials, no fighting,”

He heard you sigh as you daydream about the planet in your mind. He kept smiling as he listened.

“If only you’ve seen it, Cal—oceans clear and bright blue like the sky that they almost conjoin, the city that Master and I went to was so extravagant yet quaint, much like Reema here but a bit bigger,” you trail off, and then smiled as the last, finishing thought entered your mind and turned to your husband. “And oh, I know the perfect place for us: by the hillside north of the city. There’s another town there, it’s small but I think it’ll do for us,”

He hummed in reply, enamored by your idea but mostly at your radiance. You couldn’t stay mad at him for only half-listening. You’re endeared by his droopy, dreamy eyes and the smile that still stood out even through his stubble that he personally kept to a certain thinness of his liking.

“What is it?” you giggled.

“You’re just so beautiful,” he cooed. “I just can’t help but stare even while you talk, I’m sorry.”

You caress his scruffy jaw, he willingly inches to you as he comes in for a kiss. You secretly chuckled when his stubble tickled you and you liked it when he did.

“I can’t stay mad, darling,”

That afternoon, you tended to the plants in the terrarium, shearing the weeds and other overgrowth that crowded the soil bed. It sooner became half a flower garden and a half a medicinal herb garden, you and Merrin shared sides of the terrarium respectively; Greez was cooking up some lunch while Cere continued her favorite pastime of splicing and hacking Imperial communications, but also found out about how to trace long-range frequencies as far as two to three parsecs.

“Have you ever thought if they’re a boy or a girl, [y/n]?”

“I have, but my mind changes every now and then—one day I’ll think it’s a boy, and then the next it’s a girl,” you chuckled. “Cal and I have been debating the same thing.”

“You’re at your ninth month, anyway. I’m sure it’ll come soon,”

“Yes, soon,” you trailed off echoing the Nightsister’s words.

Later, Cal came back with game that he had hunted in the forest’s inner meadows. One of Cerinda’s fauna that you’ve found a taste for was the Chorcap—a medium-sized, horned quadrupedal animal, it was slightly shorter than a Nerf in height and less hairy too, but it was stocky in build, making it prized for their meat. Merchants in Reema would buy for the horns, butchers would get portioned cuts, and Cal would haggle with those butchers for the portions.

“I’m back,” Cal chirped as he entered the ship. “Got some extra Chorcap on the road.”

“Oh finally! I thought this stew would never be done if it weren’t for you,” Greez grunted.

“Relax, Greez, here—the seasonings you asked for,”

Cal tossed a pouch to Greez to which the captain expertly caught with his bottom right arm and continued to stir the pot. He greeted you with a kiss on the cheek as you tended the little indoor garden and seated himself by the dining table.

“That smells good!” your husband exclaimed.

“Without these spices, my stew would be as bland as unfermented Merenzane Gold!”

From time to time, you’d conceal your expressions whenever your belly contracted. You’ve pretty much anticipated the baby’s due, but it was the pain that you tried to hide—not wanting to disturb everyone at your expense.

Minutes later, Greez called everybody for lunch, you helped in setting the table and serving out the helpings for each plate. The aroma of the stew wafted around the Mantis, making all the stomachs rumble, and come running towards the table. Lunch became more animated as conversations and topics volleyed here and there. You turned to BD-1 perched over the rim of the table between the lounge.

“Say, BD, do you still have the scan of the Binog?”

“What for?”

“Oh, you’ll see, hon,” you ended it with a smile.

After lunch and helping with the dishes, you retreated to the bedroom with BD-1 perched over your shoulder. You seated yourself by the workbench, producing spools of thread, buttons, filler cotton, and fabrics of different colors—all coming from the business district in Reema. You produced a holodisk and held it close to the droid

“Can you transfer the Binog’s hologram scan here, BD?”

“Wooo!” the little droid whirred out its splicer and connected itself to the holodisk’s port. Seconds later, the hologram of the great creature of Bogano flickered above the holodisk’s projector.

“Thank you, BD,” you rewarded the droid with head pats before starting with your work.

You drew patterns for each part of the animal and then sheared them piece by piece. Holding them together with pins, you started sewing the main body first—leaving an opening for the stuffing later—and then moved on to the legs and tail. Your slender fingers gracefully twisted, curled, and threaded with the stitches as you went on—pushing the needle and then pulling the thread—until it was starting to take shape. Glancing at the projection every once in a while to check if you’re getting the likeness correctly.

“Booo!”

“That’s right, BD, I’m making the Binog—though a smaller version, for the small one,” you cooed.

When the limbs and tail have joined the body and head, the next step was to sew in the fins that lined its spine all the way to the tail and its ears. You had the patterned fabrics at the ready, you just needed to stitch them. Cal walked in to the bedroom, finding you sitting back relaxed while sewing together a toy Binog.

“That’s actually pretty cute,” he beamed.

“Thank you, but it’s not finished yet,”

The finishing touches were the button eyes. A pair of solid black buttons were secured in an X-like stitch on its head. Two tiny white triangles were sewn along the mouth for its fangs that peeked out even with the actual creature’s mouth closed. Finally, BD-1 helped you stuff the toy with the cotton since his little claws could fit the openings you left for each body part.

“Thanks for your help, BD,” you sealed the filler openings and held it in your hand. “There we go!”

“That’s adorable,” your husband commented.

Even if it was never your intention to worry everybody—your husband, especially—you just couldn’t control the instance where your knees buckle and your muscles felt like tightening with a great force. As you struggled to stand up, everybody in the ship was alarmed by your cry of pain. All of a sudden, the swirling in your stomach started to tense up.

“The baby’s coming…!” you struggled to calmly breathe.

“Cere! Merrin!” Cal cried, scooping you up from your seat at the workbench and carefully settling you down on the bed.

“Whoa, whoa, what’s happening!?” Greez was infected with the same panic and alarm as the two ladies. The captain definitely heard your cries, he just didn’t think the baby was coming now.

Your ankles jerked as your toes curled tightly, your hand gripped the sheets as you tried to fight off the contraction pains. Cal ignored the hard grip that’s crumpling his sleeve as you broke down sobbing in pain.

“I know a place!” Cere exclaimed. “Captain, set a course to Polis Massa! Grid coordinates K-20, NOW!”

“It’s two parsecs away via jump to hyperspace!” Greez argued.

“Captain, just do it!” the woman snapped back.

“You’re gonna be okay, [y/n], do you hear me?” Cal’s voice cracked while squeezing back your free hand.

“[y/n], breathe,” Merrin calmly chanted, it became her mantra to you as the minutes went on.

The jump to lightspeed felt like an eternity as you battled the excruciating pain. Your body tossed and turned, finding a position where the cramping hurt less. Your legs thrashed, your vision blackened around the edges as you struggled to breathe in a slow pace—it only lessened the cramping to an extent but you don’t know for how long you could hold it.

Cere came barging in the bedroom.

“We’re near our destination. How is she holding up?”

“She’s trying to breathe calmly, I strongly object in using my magick on her,” the Nightsister reported.

“My head is burning!”

Cal pressed the back of his hand against your forehead, “She’s having a fever! How much farther until we reach Polis Massa?”

Before Cere could reply, the feedback of Greez’s microphone crackled through the speakers.

“Hold on, folks! It’s gonna be a bumpy ride!” the Lateron announced.

Cere sprang back to the cockpit, swerving and catching her balance as the ship rumbled. The turbulence didn’t help much, but you kept holding onto Cal’s hand.

“Cere, you didn’t tell me that we’re running into an asteroid field!”

“Because Polis Massa is on the asteroid field!”

“And this is a medical station we’re talking about!”

Greez steered closer to the largest asteroid until he found a cluster of silver infrastructures sticking out on the largest rock in the field. Cere had no further qualms about that, she turned and tapped the buttons and knobs on her communication station in the ship to send the urgent transmission.

“This is Jedi Cere Junda, we are in need of urgent medical assistance! A crew member has gone into labor and is about to give birth, please!”

“Transmission verified, you are allowed to dock. We’ll have a ward and medical droids ready for her,”

The medical droids stationed there were on full alert, a couple of the wardens came out of the building with a gurney prepared for you as they anticipated your arrival. The ship maneuvered and hovered carefully by the landing pad.

“We’re here,” Cal whispered to you, hoping to console you.

“Where are we?” you murmured.

“Polis Massa,” he scooped you up from the bed, carried you all the way out of the Mantis and then laying you down on the gurney waiting for you.

The female wardens briskly pushed your gurney towards the medical bay and then to the available ward that was ready for you. The human nurses cooed and whispered to you in comforting, melodic voices; coaxing you and telling you everything down to the littlest detail.

“We’re going to carry you to the next bed, alright?”

“Okay…” you replied, your eyes were too heavy to direct your vision to whichever nurse was speaking to you.

The nurses traded diagnoses with one another and then relayed them to the medical droids, reflecting your vital signs onto their computers and holographs.

“Vitals are fine, no remarkable findings,”

“Blood pressure is stable,”

The nurses helped you lift up your knees as a midwife droid hovered slowly towards you. The entire crew watched through the glass wall of your room, they all leaned against the opposite wall but it was your husband who eagerly stayed behind the glass.

“Is she going to be alright?” he asked the one nurse who exited your room.

“Yes, it’s good that you’ve brought her here on such short notice,”

“We were only two parsecs away from here,” Cere added.

The nurse had allowed Cal to enter the ward—for only one non-patient was permitted to accompany the patient—he sat by your side, close to your head. He stroked your hair as you take deep breaths before pushing.

Cal watched the red fill your cheeks as you tried to push, following the pace of the midwife droid that’s coaxing you. He ignored your screeching cries, he wiped away the tears that rolled away from your eyes as you breathed through clenched teeth, preparing for the next.

An infant cry filled the room, Cal’s head instantly turned to the end of the bed where the midwife droid held your newborn—he watched the droid clean the infant on the spot and swaddle it in a soft, white sheet. He stood up and held the tiniest human being he’s ever seen in his entire life. A tinge of orange strands adorned the little one’s head.

“It’s a girl,” he gasped.

He approached you with your daughter in his arms, he held her close to you so you may look at her crumpled, crying little face.

“Cassidy,” you whispered.

Cal heard you utter the name. You traded glances and he smiled. A teardrop glimmered at the edge of his eye.

“Cassidy.” He echoed. The baby’s tiny hand hooked around his finger and he could’ve sworn he felt his heart burst out of his ribs, “My little Cassidy.”

He held his baby daughter right in front of him. Dark, round, shining eyes blinked back at him as Cassidy’s stubby arms squirmed, lightly hitting his cheeks and jaw with smooth, soft hands.

“She has your eyes,” Cal choked.

“She has your hair,” you manage a chuckle.

“You did great, darling,” he sat down, level to you and planted a kiss on your forehead while the Mantis crew watched the little family have their greatest moment yet.

[sounddrive]

Terrible Fate

WARNING: CONTAINS SPOILERS FROM LUCIO’S DEATH CHAPTER.

Content Warning: Canon-Compliant Character Death and some mild body horror.

⁂ ⁂ ⁂ ⁂ ⁂

“You’ve met with a terrible fate, haven’t you?”

Since the day the furnaces were lit, the Lazaret regurgitates the ashes of the dead. High, high the gritty, blackened plumes swirl away from this mausoleum. The trails permeate into the sky above, the winds carrying the choking motes to Vesuvia.

On the gray, sandy beach of this wretched place stand two entities. One, as old as human thought, leans against their walking stick. Their face is obscured by the hood they don. Strangely, they’re barefoot, cloak gently fluttering in the breeze.

Beside them is a grotesque apparition. If one blinks, one would assume it to be a flicker of the light. The companion is black and red, skeletal in appearance. They bare no flesh; it’s not solid flesh, at least.

If Fool were to think it, the other’s ‘skin’ is more like melted paint. Their companion is made of harsh lines and blood curdling imagery, and yet they’re so brittle.

There’s ashes upon Fool’s hand from when the apparition grasped at them. Fool couldn’t help feel sympathy when MC balked as parts of themself broke off.

The poor facsimile of a spirit couldn’t answer any of Fool’s questions, much less talk; their jaw’s missing.

Earlier, the pair were looking around the mounds that littered the sands of the Lazaret. Neither knew how long they were at it, but neither really cared. The jawbone was necessary to hold a conversation; the Spirit didn’t want to lose whatever left was of their hands if they gesticulated their words.

“Do you have any idea where you could be?” Fools asks, neck craning to try and see the tippy-top of the Lazaret from their spot.

All MC does is shake their skullish head in turn.

“Hmm, pity... would make this much easier, my friend,” Fool sighs. They turn and look at what’s become of this magician.

They wanted to find a cure for the Red Plague. Instead of finding a solution, the price of their dedication, or recklessness really, was their death.

The spirit sits, legs—‘legs’—crossed beneath their emaciated body. Either out of boredom or unsure of what else to do, they carefully drag their hands through the sand in front of them.

Where MC sits, it’s close enough to the walls of the Lazaret where it’s not as dyed with the ashes of the dead. It’s also the furthest part away from the mounds of bodies behind them.

Walking over, The Fool murmurs, “You can stay here; I’ll go and look for your jaw. Once within an arm’s reach, Fool gently taps the carapace of the other’s shoulder with a finger. The spirit waves them off, not looking away from the sand.

With that, Fool continues to look around the area. Their grimace deepens the more and more they find, and the more they couldn’t find.

⁂

Many suns and moons pass overhead. How many, neither of the two entities care to count.

MC got up every once in a while, pacing about the walls of the Lazaret listlessly. With each lap, they seem to be even more lost. They only give passing glances to the other spirits, fellow victims of the Red Plague’s. Those ones flash in and out of reality, screaming and clawing the air around them in vain.

It’s too cacophonous at times. Fool envies the corporeal living for being unable to hear it.

Fool knows they’ve been on this plane for too long, but they still have a mission to fulfill.

That jawbone had to be somewhere...

⁂

For once in the dead of night, the typical din of the dead is a low babble instead of a roar.

Fool’s seated themself down in the sands, their forehead atop the knees pulled to their chest. Their hood is pulled almost too far over their face, as if trying to hide it from the other spirits.

Arcana don’t sleep, but they can try.

As the waves crash into the beach, the sea water passes through Fool. For a moment, they are still. Their ears perk up at a familiar sound: a rowboat.

A rowboat is approaching. It’s another load of dead to be fed to the fiery bellies of the Lazaret, Fool thinks.

What they’re surprised to find, however, is that there’s only one passenger.

By the light of the full moon, the lone rower uses magic. From the water, the stranger launches their vessel harshly into the ash-caked beach. The force of the landing smashes a furrow into the sand, the pilot almost falling out from their boat.

Fool recognizes him immediately, slowly shaking their head.

“You’re too late, child...”

Magical compass in hand, Asra struggles to calm his breathing. His hat is left discarded in the boat, red scarf whipping around him as a strong sea breeze passes over the island.

The needle jerks around, rattling loudly as Asra scrambles about the place.

“No, no no no no, please, no...” he pleads, choking on tears as he finally follows the direction the arrow settles upon.

Fool follows behind him, curious. Of course, this garners the attention of a certain spirit. MC follows just five paces behind Fool.

The Fool cannot decipher what their companion is feeling beyond that their emotions are strong, yet unknowable.

Eventually, Asra finds the mound. Fool stops about a meter behind him. The spirit on the other hand, walks until they stand just a breath away from where Asra kneels.

As their friend digs with his bare hands, MC looms behind him. In the ash-choked sky, the spirit casts a menacing shadow over the white-haired magician.

Fool finds it admirable Asra can bite through the pain: his nails chip and break, his skin is scraped and his hands drip with blood from his efforts.

As the magician continues to dig, Fool maintains their meter-long distance away from Asra. However, they circle around, wanting to see what his face would be when he finds them.

Eventually...

Asra stops, eyes wide as his fingers touch bone. Hands shaking, he lifts a skull from the pit.

There’s no jaw to be seen.

The dam within Asra finally breaks. Cascades of tears flow freely from his eyes, dripping down his face and wetting the sand below him. He presses the skull to his forehead, sobs renewed as he begs for forgiveness from their friend.

The spirit behind the mournful magician casts their gaze upon the skull in Asra’s hands. Their expression, as ever, is inscrutable.

“Well,” Fool shrugs, “at least we know where you are now.”

⁂

How Asra gets off of the island with his mangled hands, along with the bones of his dear friend, Fool could not remember.

Their goal was to assemble a jaw for the spirit kneeling in front of them. Fool couldn’t miracle them back to life, but at the very least they could give MC a jaw-like apparatus.

“Almost there...” Fool sews magic into MC’s skull-like face, making the right adjustments. It’s like sewing a mask directly into place. Fool’s tools are a magical needle and thread made of light. Motes of fiery ash float around MC’s head, acting like anchors for Fool’s handiwork.

As the Arcana works the needle through MC’s disembodied ‘cheeks’, streaks of ash dribble from their eye sockets.

Fool stops sewing a moment, looking at their companion’s face. “Does it hurt?”

The spirit gently shakes their head in no. With a nod, Fool continues their work until it all settles into place.

“Alright, try to talk.”

MC works their new jawbone for a while. Once it properly pops into place, they squawk, their whole body juddering from the sudden re-connection.

“Th-thank... you...”

Fool offers their deceased companion a small smile. They extend their arms out, shoulders scrunched with this unfamiliar gesture.

MC takes up the unspoken offer, hiding their skeletal face to Fool’s cloak. Fool carefully supports MC as their body shudders, ashes spilling out of their eye sockets to their cloak.

Fool didn’t mind being in that hug for too long. Before they have to leave MC behind in this place, they make sure the anchoring motes around MC’s head will remain charged.

Strangely, they look like spikes. The four points extended from the top of their head in symmetrical angles. MC didn’t seem to mind.

Even if their jaw is barely visible, it was the least Fool could do for them in this circumstance.

“I’ll miss you,” Fool murmurs, gently squeezing MC’s ashen hands. MC returns the gesture, some flakes of themself sinking into Fool’s own.

Fool won’t bother to wash the ash off. It’s a macabre keepsake, but it’s a keepsake all the same.

Bringing down the butt of their staff to the ground twice, a portal opens up behind them. As Fool steps through the entrance to their realm, floods of other deceased begin gather, wanting to follow after the Major Arcana.

MC remains a statue behind that mass, a towering shadow above all the rest as they rush for the portal.

Fool wishes they can’t hear. As the portal to their realm closes behind themself, the agonized screaming of the restless spirits will forever ring in their mind.

A/N: Before anyone asks, I don’t know a lick of the Legend of Zelda lore. All I know is that quote and it felt very fitting for this piece.

Thank you very much for reading; I hope you enjoyed it as much fun as I had writing it!

[ivory-peaches]

my epic poem

Last summer, I decided to jump off a bridge. It wasn’t a physical suicide.   But I still hit the water. I still cracked my skull and broke my bones, I still bled out and let sobs rack my body. I broke when I jumped off that bridge.

“Hey, can I have some of that butterscotch~?” Aviator sunglasses, pioneer trek clothing, dirt smeared across his face and hands. It was a hundred degrees out, we had walked miles that day, and now we were eating stale bread covered in disgusting mustard and old turkey. And he dared to smile at all of us. It was disgusting.

“He’s in my ward,” my best friend explained.  “He’s really annoying.” “I can tell,” I sneered back.  He was so suave, confident, eager almost.  He knew exactly what he was doing. He was smooth enough to slide into those real life DMs. And like I said, it was disgusting.

I let myself walk onto the bridge. After our trek and walking miles upon miles, I met up with him again. We lived just a few blocks away from each other, we hung out a lot, we texted even more. We were the best of friends, we talked about each other constantly, it was really nice. But it was also disgusting.

I was so confused.  We sat at lunch and he actually interacted with me. We sat next to each other He laughed at my jokes and made more We had contests for who could fit more grapes in our mouths or who could keep a lime in our mouth longer, who had the best pick up line, who could eat more cookies in a minute. It wasn’t disgusting anymore…  It was strange.

We got so close. Holding hands, hugging, walking each other to class, it was disgusting. Nicknames, a date, goodnight texts, silly conversations, dancing, we were disgusting. “You’re gonna fall in love,” my best friend taunted. I completely denied all of that, love was disgusting. Until I had fallen into a world of love and feeling like I was spinning and dancing on air.

It was so different, knowing that someone liked me. It got so far. And then it didn’t. And it hurt.

Suddenly, it was too much. It was too much commitment.  He was too close, I was too unstable. I was suicidal, I was depressed, I was constantly anxious, I always talked about myself, I wanted all the attention but also none of it. He never wanted to talk about himself and so I filled the silence.  I never wanted to focus and have silent moments to think and so I filled them with words, meaningless words. I filled the silence with empty promises and I made him promise empty things.

And so I snapped. I jumped off my bridge. I fell and fell and decided it would be okay. And I was okay, for months, I was “okay”.

I was given loneliness, I was impulsive, compulsive.  I did reckless things in the name of feeling alive. I let the air escape my lungs as I fell for those months and it felt so nice.  I was okay, I was fine, I was everything I needed to be at the time. But I didn’t know that the bridge had suffered.

I didn’t know about the cracks under the bridge, the cracks hidden under the belly of the bridge. I didn’t know about the false sense of security, the false structure of this bridge. I didn’t know that this bridge would break if I jumped hard enough.

For months, I was okay.  I was doing well. I had friends, I had crushes, I had wishes and dreams and I ignored the creaks of the bridge above me. I floated through the water, at peace with myself, with the fact that I was drowning. The water filled my lungs and I couldn’t speak.  The water filled my eyes and I couldn’t see.  The water filled my brain, I didn’t understand this hurt.  I was used to it. I was numb to the hurt and the silence.  The water was so comforting. Despite being cold and dark and ruthless to my limp body, I drowned and it was so beautiful.

And then the bridge collapsed completely.   It fell and crushed me under all the tons of rubble. In a desperate attempt, I was pulled out.   I was tugged from all the rubble and broken, I was torn from the damage, more damaged than before. Air filled my lungs for the first time in months and instead of breathing and living, I died.  I lost my humanity and everything that came with it. Whoever pulled me out, whoever rescued me, they destroyed me completely.  Their intention was bare.

I ended up surviving after I was pulled from the current.  I started marching band, I was at school, I hung out with friends.  I filled my life with other people and tried to stay happy. I was hell bent on never feeling sad and so I surrounded myself with the internet and tv shows and my best friends. I also filled my life with addiction, obsession, and other negative things.  I wasn’t reading anymore, I wasn’t writing anymore.  I didn’t like to do anything fun. All my happiness was artificial and temporary. Disgusting.

I occupied myself with different boys, different bridges.  I tried to focus on anything but the disaster months ago but nothing worked. I tried to send texts and invite him to things but, he was always busy.  I tried to talk to him but, he ignored me. “If I don’t text back, my problems disappear.” So I was his problem.

My anxiety got worse.  I was having five, six, seven anxiety attacks a day.  I had to step out of class, step out of band, put my face into my hands and just cry. I cried every day, whether it was because I was exhausted or triggered or having flashbacks.  I wrote poems about him, I talked about him, I cried and rambled and lost all composure.  I was obsessed with killing myself with worry. Disgusting.

I wrote down my ‘words of wisdom’ and shared them with the world. “Don’t fall in love.” “Don’t find a boy who treats you right.” “No one could possibly love you back, so stop worrying about it.” Stop caring.  Stop loving.  Stop it, stop it, stop it, stop it, stoP IT. I don’t care anymore.  I don’t care about it.  I don’t care, I don’t care, I don’t care, I don’t care, i don’t care. I’M DISGUSTING.

I was inhumane, I was broken, I was gone.  I wasn’t here anymore. I was constantly crying.   I couldn’t listen to our song, I couldn’t mention his name, I couldn’t watch boys in blue flannel walk down the hall, I couldn’t explain why people over 6’2 made me burst out in tears. I couldn’t tell you why I was choking while we walked down the hallway, I couldn’t tell you why I wasn’t my normal peppy self.  I couldn’t explain that I had fallen in love at 16 and didn’t know how to explain why I was hurting.  I couldn’t explain.

I found myself obsessed with boys just like him. An actor from a movie, a character in a TV show, a handful of boys at our school that shared similar smiles and appearances and cocky jokes and flirtatious comments. I tried to occupy myself with my ‘type’, the type of boys that I hated the most.  But it was so hard.

Boy after boy, I threw them out as soon as they weren’t like him enough, or if they were too much like him. I was cycling through crushes furiously and everyone thought I was just promiscuous or shallow. I couldn’t find a guy to help me out and it killed me dead!  My heart always weighed hundreds of pounds and my ribs fluttered out sad breaths as they struggled to keep it in my chest.

My need for affection was starving.  I was becoming more angry, desperate, and broken.  I was like an animal, hunting for something to satisfy my insatiable self. A boy looked at me, “Wow, he’s really cute.” A boy said hi to me in the hall.  “Wow, we could get married one day.” My obsession got worse, my addiction got worse, I had to go and talk to people, I was a mess. It was disgusting.

And something in me snapped, clicked even one day.   I saw him, walking into Spanish. I saw him, walking down the hallway. I saw him, walking up the stairs and past me during lunch. I wanted to talk to him, to interact with him, to go back to normal, when we were beautiful. But everyone told me it was a bad idea, that my bridge was just collapse again.

My best friend constantly switched between, “He made you sad,” and “He made you so happy.” I was so confused though! I knew that I had to talk to him, and I did, despite the warning signs. “Please,” I voiced desperately.  “Let me come over after school.  I want to talk to you.”

And he did. He let me sit on his porch with him for hours and we just talked. We talked about what happened, we talked about everything I wish had happened. We talked about each other and about video games and being sick.  We watched YouTube videos and talked movies and music. We finally interacted and I could sit next to him and my heart wouldn’t stop beating out of my chest and I couldn’t breathe but, it was such a nice feeling. And with every word, ever confession, everything we said, it was like a thread and needle, sewing me back together.

I stopped being waterlogged from that stupid bridge and stupid river. I told him I liked him again.  I told him that I missed getting hugs and sitting with him and being able to just talk and text with him.   I told him that I missed when he smiled at me like I was the best thing in the world. I told him that he made me anxious and depressed. I told him everything.  I told him about how I had died and came back, how I was doing so poorly before, still trying to breathe in the water.

Last summer, I decided to jump off a bridge, and fall in love just a little bit. I hit the water, I drowned, I died, and I came back. And it was all because of him.