#inspired by the fact that every single night i convince myself someone has broken into my house and theyre gonna kill me or something

[wisteria-whump]

whumpee who hears the tiniest noises at night and convinces themself that whumper has found them and is going to kill them or recapture them 🫶

[prfctethereal]

no body, no crime. | marauders

pairing: platonic!james potter x reader, platonic!sirius black x reader, platonic!remus lupin x reader, platonic!peter pettigrew x reader

wordcount: 3,608

warnings: this whole thing is about murder, blood, swearing, alcohol use

a/n: so i accidentally listen to no body, no crime all afternoon and felt inspired to write this. it was supposed to be shorter but oh well. let me know if i should write a part two - kennedy

***

I need your help. Come quick.

I scrawled the message onto three different spare pieces of parchment and hurried into the kitchen, opening the nearest window. The rush of fresh air could’ve been clarity for me but what was done was done. There was no changing the past, but changing the future was still on my plate.

Waving my arm in the night sky, I signalled my owl, Stefan, calling him over to the window. He hooted excitedly, eager to be put to use in the cold winter season. As he landed on my arm, a dusting of snow ruffled from his feather, onto my blood splattered torso, bouncing onto the kitchen counter. Looking down at my appearance, the severity of the situation settled in. There was a dead body in my living room and I had no idea what to do.

“Stefan, I need you to send these letters to the marauders. Go to James and Lily’s house first; it’s the closest, but whatever you do, don’t let Lily see it. Then, go to Remus’ house. Sirius is staying with him as well. They can both see the letter. Lastly, go to Peter’s house and make sure he comes. Keep pecking him on his hand if he chickens out. Can you do that for me?”

Stefan hooted loudly, which I instantly shushed, taking note of the time of day. I didn’t want to wake any of the neighbours. Once Stefan understood the instructions, I let him fly away. A comfortable silence was left in my house as I paced through the kitchen, not even thinking about what to do next.

“I need a drink.” I hummed softly for myself, swinging open the cupboard and taking out a bottle of red wine. After pouring a glass, I waited, sipping to calm my nerves.

It wasn’t long before I heard the distinguished snap of someone apparating, followed by a small squeal. James had arrived first, right into the crime scene. He called out my name, which I responded to, and he trudged into the kitchen, unable to make a coherent sentence.

What he saw was one of his best friends sitting on the ground, blood staining their shirt, a glass of wine firm in their grips, eyes glassy and dazed over.

“Are you going to explain this or…?” James trailed off, realising that he wasn’t going to get an answer quite yet.

“Wait until the others get here.” I responded monotonously, finishing the glass of wine with a single gulp. Mindlessly, I reached upwards to the kitchen counter, patting around for the bottle, before it was snatched away by none other than James Potter himself.

“Darling, if we’re going to be covering up a murder tonight, I think it would be best for you to be as sober as possible.” He cheeked, a cocky smirk on his face. It was soon wiped away by the sound of someone else crashing into the living room, followed by a high pitch yelp; a similar reaction to James’.

“[Y/N]? Did you kill someone?” It was the distinct voice of Peter Pettigrew who followed the quiet murmurings of James and I into the kitchen. When he walked through the door, he seemed to be nursing his right hand, which looked like it had been pecked over and over by an owl, most likely Stefan.

“Take a guess.” I muttered, unusually grumping as I desperately wanted to refill my glass of wine and drown out the sorrows and voices in my head. Oh no, I didn’t feel guilty for killing the man in the living room. I felt guilty for not even having any sort of conscience.

Peter joined us, sitting down on the other side of me. His eyes lit up as he noticed the bottle of wine in James’ hand, muttering a quick “thank you” before taking a swig of the burning liquid.

“The other two should be here by now.” I deadpanned. James and Peter hummed in agreement but it wasn’t long before the rest of them arrived. A knock at the front door signified that Remus and Sirius had arrived, as Remus always felt it was much more polite to apparate outside of someone’s home, instead of directly inside it.

Begrudgingly, I went to stand up, before toppling over into Peter’s lap. I hadn’t realised that the alcohol had already affected me so much, my fist clenching to my temples as I moaned in frustration. It was common knowledge that I was a lightweight. I should’ve thought of that before I let my gluttony become me.

“How about I get the door?” James suggested, standing up instead. “Besides, what if it’s not the other two? What if it’s the police? Can’t have someone covered in blood answer the door.”

As James walked off to the front door, I stayed curled up in Peter’s lap, his hand slowly stroking my shaking arm in an attempt to sooth me. New flash: it wasn’t working.

Two more screeches emerged from the living room which meant that Remus and Sirius had finally showed up. Still shaking, I finally rose from my seating position, with the help of Peter, and made my way into the living room.

It was the first time I had seen the mess I had made with a clear head, or a head that wasn’t plagued with wrath and hatred. Blood was all up the walls, coating too many surfaces to count. The body was lying face down on the carpet, fresh blood still leaking out of his corpse. A putrid smell filled the room, coming from the gas build up in the man’s body. Gagging at the sight, I held my ground, fighting the need to run away and throw up in my bathroom.

“Okay, Remus and Sirius are here now. Can you please tell us what happened?” James begged, his eyes filled with fear. I couldn’t blame him. Finding out one of his best friends had murdered someone must have been horrifying, but it was no time to ponder about the drastic change in our relationship. I needed to explain.

“Do you remember Este, the hufflepuff in our year? She was in our herbology class year seven. She was also in our potions class up until year six.” I started, looking at my friend’s around me, who were all listening intently. “Well, we’ve been friends since year one I guess. We were friends for many years. Even after we left Hogwarts, I still caught up with her. Every Tuesday night, we’d have dinner together and chat, you know, gossip about what’s going on. Anyway, one night, she was talking about her husband-”

“Husband?” Sirius interjected, completely confused. “Este never dated anyone during the entirety of Hogwarts. We’ve only been out for less than a year. How did she find someone to date and marry in that timeframe?”

“Well, they met the day after graduation, at a ministry party. Este was starting in the Magical Accidents and Catastrophes department and met Jason Bulstrode. They must’ve hit it off because a month later they were married. I went to their wedding in August; it was quite pleasant.”

“Okay, continue with the story.” Remus hurried me along, getting quite fidgety with the body behind him. He was anxiously looking behind him, as if the body was going to start moving.

“Oh right, anyway, one night, she was talking about Jason. She was getting nervous because she thought he was cheating on her. She kept talking about how Jason had been spending money on jewellery that wasn’t hers and how he has been coming home from work later and later, smelling like cheap perfume and merlot. I convinced her to confront him about it. A week later, we were supposed to meet for our weekly dinner but she never showed up. I went down to this bar that Jason always went to to see if he knew anything. He was drunk, going on about how she went missing. I didn’t believe it for one second.”

I paused, taking a deep breath. Peter had started drinking out of the wine bottle once more. Remus was fiddling nervously with his digits, as Sirius tried to calm him down, while listening in to every word I was saying.

“Another week goes by and a woman moves into Este and Jason’s house. You’ll never guess who. It was Lucinda Greengrass. I thought it was strange to see Jason move on so quickly because Este could’ve still shown up, but then it hit me. Este was never going to show up. Jason had murdered her. So, I did the only logical thing I could think of. I confronted him once again at the bar. He seemed a lot more sober though this time. When I brought up the fact that he killed his wife, he lunged at me. I thought I could apparate away to protect myself but he had already grabbed onto me. He was trying to kill me first, so technically it was self defence. I grabbed a framed picture from my mantle and smashed it on the ground. I used one of the broken pieces of glass and used it to protect myself. Then, I wrote a letter to you four and got you to come over. I think we’ve caught up.”

I was out of breath by the time I had finished talking, expecting to be bombarded with hundreds of questions. Except, they all seemed quite silent, their own plans formulating over in their heads. I stayed quiet, letting them think, biting my own nails at what was going on. Remus was the one who spoke up first.

“Did anyone see you leave the bar with Jason?” Remus asked, hurrying out of the kitchen into the living room. He seemed to be looking for something, but what?

“No.” I put simply, watching as Sirius’ face lit up, understanding what Remus was getting at. James and Peter made eye contact and with that, it seemed like everyone was on the same page except me.

“Then his last known location was the bar. He could’ve gone missing at the bar.” James muttered, following Remus. Except, James headed for the laundry, hurriedly looking for cleaning supplies.

“Missing?” I called, frantically trying to follow them, but they all seemed to be in a mind of their own, understanding what had to be done. James emerged from the laundry with a mop and a bucket of bleach. Peter came from the direction of the kitchen holding a massive black garbage back, gloves decorating his hands.

“No one knows you killed him, [Y/N], and we intend on keeping it that way. He’ll stay a missing man.” Peter finished off the thought, carefully trodding over to Jason’s bloody corpse on the ground. “Besides, Este is also classified as missing. It could be played off that they ran off together or something.”

I was rooted to the spot as I watched what was going on around me. Peter had put Jason’s body in a weird contortion to fit in the garbage bag and tied a knot. Quickly, he grabbed another to double line the bag, making sure there were no leakages. Once it was secure, Peter placed the bag outside to air out, making sure the smell wouldn’t linger much longer in the house.

Sirius was quick to clean the linen. He picked up the rug from the ground and hurried it off into the laundry so it could clean itself the muggle way. The next task was trying to remember the cleaning spells from year three and being able to execute them at such a high quality that it can get rid of even the strongest of stains, like blood.

“Can you help me with this, love?” Sirius cooed, motioning for me to help him with the stains on the couches. Muttering the incantation, we watched the stain fade ever so slightly. Cursing under his breath, Sirius tried again, whispering the spell once more. The blood splotch faded once more but only slightly. “At this rate, we’ll be here for hours.”

At this moment, Remus came back into the room, holding up what he was looking for before. My old boat keys. Being a half blood with a muggle father meant that he had taught me a few things about the muggle world. He had also taught me how to drive a boat, helping me get my boating license at only fifteen years old. It was perplexing though; why would Remus care about my boat? It wasn’t going to help us now.

“Where do you dock your boat?” Remus said calmly, spinning the keys around in his fingers effortlessly. By now, he had caught the attention of the rest of the marauders. Sirius poked his head out from behind the couch, James looked up from where he was mopping the floors, and Peter walked back into the living room from checking on the bag in the backyard.

“Uh, all the way back in my hometown, miles away from here. Old Muster Lake.” I stuttered out. With that, Remus opened up more of my drawers, searching for a map. When he had found it, he motioned for me to follow him into the dining room where he splayed the map out on the table.

“Show me.” Remus stated firmly, brushing his fingers over the dirty map. Hesitantly, I pointed my fingers about a hundred miles north of here. Remus bit his lip, thinking about what to do next. His breathing was shallow and I could feel his nervousness from here. All I hoped was that his plan would work out.

“Can you still drive the boat?” Remus said after a while, looking me in the eyes. I nodded slowly and Remus looked content, grabbing the map from the table and motioned for Peter to come to him. “We’re going to the lake to dump the body. You’re coming.”

“What? No.” Peter spluttered, his heart racing quickening. “I get terrible motion sickness. Oi! James!” Peter called James over who was focused on his task at hand, scrubbing the floor with the mop. “I’ll take over your job and you can go to the lake with these two.”

“Alright.” James huffed, passing the mop over to Peter. When they were ready, Remus, James and I walked outside into the night, walking over to the garbage bag where Jason’s body was already rotting. Even in the darkness of the night, I could tell that the bag hadn’t leaked, which was a good sign. With a nod of Remus and James’ head, I knew they were ready, so I held onto the bag while they held onto my arms and I apparated away into the night.

As we arrived at Old Muster Lake, a wave of post apparition nausea washed over me, nearly toppling me over if it hadn’t been for James holding me up. When I got myself sorted, I looked out onto the lake where I hadn’t been for years.

The whole lake looked deserted at this time of year. A faint mist was rising off of the lake, reflecting in the moonlight of the crescent moon. Big trees breathed in the like breeze, swaying softly in the wind. A hooting owl and the rustle of tree branches were the only noises that could be heard between the three of them.

Remus was the first to break the silence, stepping forward, his feet crunching onto the leafy ground. The dead leaves cracked underneath his shoes, giving away his position. He paused, listening out for anyone, sniffing the air slightly, before continuing to walk up to the docks. Thinking it was safe, James and I followed after him until we reached the end of the dock. The planks of the dock were old and unkempt, seeming like they might break underneath our feet. Carefully, we walked across the together, before the dock finished beneath us. I could see my boat a bit away from the dock, but it was too far away. There was no way of reaching the boat, until I had an idea.

“Remus, give me my key.”

“What?”

“I can swim over to the boat and bring it around. Give me my keys.” I repeated, holding my hand out to him. Obliging, he placed the keys on my palm and watched as I looped my digits around the key ring tight so it wouldn’t escape me.

I hadn’t swam in years. As I dived off the dock and into the freezing water, I remembered the rush of it. Resurfacing, I gasped for air, shivering in the winter water. My clothes hung uncomfortably by my side, sticking to my cold figure. My teeth chattered unconsciously, reminding me to get a move on before I froze in the temperature. We didn’t want two dead bodies in the lake now, did we?

Free styling in the lake, I stroked my arms by my side, swimming towards my boat in the ocean. It was about a seventy meter swim which was an okay length, but the warmth of the water made it feel like an eternity. When I finally reached the boat, I climbed up the ladder at the back and clambered into the boat. A chilly gush of wind hit my skin, sending goosebumps up my spine. I was too cold but I persisted, fumbling with the key in my hand and struggling to put it in the key hole. When it finally went in, I turned the engine on, letting a roar come out of the exhaust. Luckily, there was still half a tank of fuel in the tank from the summers ago when my family had come to the lake. Back then, it brought such happy memories. Now, not at all.

I brought the boat around to the dock, letting James and Remus pile in, pulling the heavy bag over the side of the ship. When we were ready, I sped off into the middle of the lake, where it was deepest, the perfect spot to dump a body.

“The next open season will be summer. By the time it comes, the body should’ve decomposed a lot more.” I spluttered out, my cold body shivering, making the words come out of my mouth in an unsteady stream.

“Here. Take this. You look freezing.” Remus said quietly, placing his jacket over my shoulders, which I gratefully accepted. Immediately, I started feeling much warmer, continuing on with our mission.

Once we reached the middle of the lake, there weren’t a lot of words said between the three of us. Instantly, James started untying the knot on the garbage bag, opening it up to the world. It reeked worse than before but there was nothing we could do about it now. With all three of our strengths combined, we managed to hold onto the bag and tip the corpse into the lake with a splash. Wordlessly, we headed back to the dock, as I dropped the two boys back off.

Again, I turned the engine off, tying the boat back up at the buoy. Holding onto the keys, I dived back into the chilling lake, though the cold didn’t affect as much as last time. Swimming back to the dock, I relished in everything we had done, remembering the body that was now decomposing in the lake. I felt dirty as I swam through the contaminated water.

Reaching the dock, I pulled myself out via the ladder and laid down on the planks, catching my breath. That’s when everything caught up to me. Tears were ebbing in the corners of my eyes, spilling onto my reddening cheeks. My lip quivered as quiet sobs spilled past my lips. Closing my eyes, I let the darkness consume me for a few moments, until I felt two strong arms hoisting me back up into a standing position. Stroking my arms, they both tried to soothe me from my breakdown. Minutes ticked by as I let my tears run down my cheeks. I was openly sobbing now. All I needed was a sleep.

“You wanna go now?” James muttered to which I nodded. Holding onto the deflated bag, James apparated us away, back into my unrecognisable house.

Peter and Sirius had done a fantastic job. There wasn’t a speck of blood anywhere in the living room; everything looked spotless. The rug that was drenched with blood had gone through the washing machine and was now back in its usual spot. The couches looked brand new, meaning that Sirius must have figured out how to do the spell properly. An aroma of fresh flowers flooded the room, overpowering the smell of rotting flesh. It was perfect.

“How did it go?” Sirius asked, appearing from the kitchen with Peter.

“It’s been taken care of.” I mustered up the courage to say. “Now, if anyone asks, and I doubt they will, but just in case, we had a dinner party tonight.”

The four of them nodded in agreement, heading for the doorway to leave, but I stopped them.

“And you stayed the night. Everyone had had a little too much to drink. That means no one would have slipped off to kill anyone, okay?”

With that, they all followed me up the staircase into the hallway of spare rooms for them to sleep in. I thought I was alone as I stayed out in the hallway, turning the lights out. I cried again.

I cried for a while.

Until I felt a reassuring hand on my back, calming me down. “Hey, hey, hey, don’t worry, love. No body, no crime, right?”

[valgusordo]

Too much information: Character Interview

I saw this post on the wonderfully talented @saph-y​‘s blog and thought to myself, “that looks fun, I want to try it!”  What follows is the result of that endeavor, for my Wulfgard OC, Inquisitor Marcus Capulet.  Saphy did his image which I use for my Tumblr avatar!

This one was commissioned from the co-creator of Wulfgard, though: the mighty @saber-scorpion​! His art and @maverick-werewolf​‘s writing have masterfully kept me interested in this fantasy universe for years, and it’s so much fun to RP in.  Anyway, hope you enjoy this interview!

► Name ➔ Inquisitor Marcus Capulet.  And yes, I have to say the title first every time.

► Are you single ➔ Not sure how relevant that is, but yes.

► Are you happy ➔ I...huh.  I don’t think anyone’s asked me that lately.  I suppose I am content, at the very least.

► Are you angry ➔ My, how swiftly the subject changes!  Not at the moment, but know that my patience is not infinite. 

► Are your parents still married ➔ They are, and still in good health, last I heard, thank you.

NINE FACTS

► Birth Place ➔ Veritshire, the Haven of the Crossroads, the tiniest jewel in the crown of the southern half of the Empire.

► Hair Color ➔ Black.  “Jet” black, I’ve heard it called, though I haven’t yet learned where the term came from.

► Eye Color ➔ Brown.  Almost muddy, as my partner, Kate, loves to torment me with.

► Birthday ➔ 

► Mood ➔ Amused and intrigued, really.  Answering a plethora of questions instead of asking them is a...refreshing...change of pace.

► Gender ➔ Male.

► Summer or winter ➔ Winter, by far.  Void iron armor may not heat as easily as regular steel, but it can still get stifling.  Plus, snow is just fascinating, don’t you think?  Never saw it before when I was growing up.  Much more fun than sand.

► Morning or afternoon ➔ Afternoons, really.  By that time I’ve usually gotten past the hustle and bustle of the morning and prepare for a quiet evening.  Hopefully.

EIGHT THINGS ABOUT YOUR LOVE LIFE

► Are you in love ➔ I...was, once.  I’d rather not discuss this further.

► Do you believe in love at first sight ➔ Not really.  Initial attraction can be strong, sure, as is raw, sinful lust, but from what I’ve learned over the years, love must be built.  I don’t think it’s something you fall into.  

► Who ended your last relationship ➔ If I am correctly inferring that you mean romantically, it was ended by a mage.  Never learned the bastard’s name, but he murdered my lady love and nearly half of my town’s population along with her.  But she was “out of my league,” as I’ve heard it said, anyway, and we were both too young and foolish to realize I didn’t deserve her.  Since then, I’ve been married to my job, and she treats me well.

► Have you ever broken someone’s heart ➔ Not that I know of, and if I have, it certainly wasn’t intentional.

► Are you afraid of commitments ➔ Afraid?  No.  Too busy?  I’m afraid so.

► Have you hugged someone within the last week? ➔ Uh...no.  Are you offering?  We only just met, it’d be highly irregular.

► Have you ever had a secret admirer ➔ Most likely not.  Anyone stalking me in the shadows usually has violent intent, not romantic.  I’m good at spotting the former, but have never noticed the latter.

► Have you ever broken your own heart? ➔ I’m not sure I understand the question, but I think not.

SIX CHOICES

► Love or lust ➔ Love, hands down.  If I had a denarius for every lust-centered, often demonic cult I’ve helped bring down, I’d be richer than some Barons.  Maybe a couple insolvent Counts, too.

► Lemonade or iced tea ➔ I don’t...what?  Are those beverages of some kind? 

*modern AU Marcus steps in* Allow me to assist you, good sir.  The ingredients are foreign to your time and location, but go for the lemonade.  It’s cold, sweet, tangy, and refreshing for hot days.  Proper tea is consumed while hot.  Good day to you.  *exeunt stage right*

Oh, that was helpful.  Thank you, myself in strange clothing.

► Cats or Dogs ➔ Dogs, by far.  Much friendlier, more loyal, and also more useful.  Some theorize that cats are drawn to magical sources, but I’ve never so much as gotten one of the bloody things to do more than hiss at me.  I’ll take a tracking hound or fighting alaunt any day.

► A few best friends or many regular friends ➔ I do my fair share of traveling and make a great many acquaintances, but in my line of work having a few friends you can trust is worlds better than an army of potential spies and enemies.

► Wild night out or romantic night in ➔ The night in, definitely.  More controlled, and safer, to boot.  Heading out in small numbers and getting drunk is the best way to get one’s purse...or throat...cut in a dark alley.

► Day or night ➔ Night, I think.  I need all the help I can get if I’m sneaking up on a suspect, and I do enjoy the quiet peace that comes with working by candlelight.

FIVE HAVE YOU EVERS

► Been caught sneaking out ➔ Only once, when I was younger, and it wasn’t even my idea! My brother was an apprentice with the guards, and told us about a prisoner who’d come from all the way north of the Coldstone Wall.  Lady Victoria wanted to get a look at him, and convinced me, Lucille, and Felix to pretend we were all just bringing my brother some food during his watch.  But when we walked toward the door to look through the bars, out shot the prisoner’s hand, aimed right at our throats!  Poor Lucille screamed, and we had nowhere to run when the real guards came to investigate the commotion.  They didn’t dare accost the daughter of the Baron, but the rest of us got quite a hiding when we returned home!  Apologies for rambling, nostalgia and all that.

► Fallen down/up the stairs ➔ Does it count if I was pushed?  Because there was that one incident with an uncooperative suspect in a rather large inn, and an undignified rolling and landing that I’d rather not talk about.

► Wanted something/someone so badly it hurt? ➔ Yes. Especially since it was too late for me to do anything about it.

► Wanted to disappear ➔ A few times.  It would be especially handy with my occupation, or convenient in more...trying...times.

► Laughed uncontrollably about something ➔ While I’m usually good at maintaining my composure, there was this one incident where Kate and I went into a castle’s cellar to investigate some horrifying noises, only to find one of the servants and, presumably, his wife in flagrante delicto.  We apologized...well, I apologized while Kate snickered, closed the door, concluded that no one, in fact, was being horribly murdered, and cackled all the way back.

FOUR PREFERENCES

► Smile or eyes ➔ An odd question, but eyes, I think.  Much harder to hide how one feels up there, while smiles are easily faked.

► Shorter or Taller ➔ For me, or for someone else?  I wouldn’t mind growing a few inches, but it’s not a huge concern for me with ladies I’m interested in.

► Intelligence or Attraction ➔ I’d say intelligence.  Even if we’re not attracted to each other, at least we can converse.  It’s how I’ve built up my best friendships, really.

► Hook-up or Relationship ➔ Hook...up?  Is that some new slang the children are using?  I lived by the desert, I know nothing of fishing.  At any rate, I’d say Relationships.  I’d rather build something meaningful than treat my love life like some bloody contest, like my friend Lorenzo does.

FAMILY

► Do you and your family get along ➔ My brothers and I had our fights as children, but the siege of our hometown brought us all together, and made us grow up fast, if we wanted to survive.  I haven’t seen them or my parents in a long time, but we write to each other frequently, and there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for them.  Well, nothing legal, at any rate.

► Would you say you have a “messed up life” ➔ It certainly hasn’t gone the way I wanted it, or thought I would have to settle for, but once again, I am content.  If my pain brings peace to others, I can hardly complain.

► Have you ever ran away from home ➔ Only once, but it was less from home and more from memories that I could no longer face there.  Magic, or “The Condition,” as my order calls it, took loved ones from all of us.  I could have stayed to help rebuild, but thought I could do more good by joining the Inquisition, and I’d gladly make that choice again.

► Have you ever gotten kicked out ➔ Not physically, but I have been sternly told to leave by powerful figures who didn’t appreciate my presence or investigations.

FRIENDS

► Do you secretly hate one of your friends ➔ Certainly not!  What kind of friend would I be at that point?  Though Kate does love to jump up and down on that line when she thinks she can get away with it.

► Do you consider all of your friends good friends ➔ Yes, I haven’t kept very many, after all.  After tasting betrayal early in life, I’ve learned to be more discerning about such matters.

► Who is your best friend ➔ Choosing favorites is difficult, but Kate is the most qualified by far.  She may be an utter sociopath with a violent streak two leagues wide, and a sense of humor and vocabulary that would make the filthiest of sailors blush, but she’s saved my life more times than I can count, and I can always depend on her for help or advice.  Oftentimes without asking, too.

► Who knows everything about you ➔ My mother, without question.  Kate may have worked with me for nigh twenty-odd years, but I haven’t told her everything about me.  Meanwhile, my mother infers so much from just what I put on parchment that I’d almost swear she’s spying on me.  Comes with the territory, I suppose.

Whew, that took some effort to write!  Now, whom to inflict, um, I mean, share this with next....

Just kidding, I knew who I was going to tag as soon as I started.  The talented writers known as @maverick-werewolf​ and @tafferfield​, of course!  They inspired me to keep writing my characters outside of just RPing, and I truly hope they both enjoy this exercise I stumbled across.

[itsdaniclayton]

Forget regret

@johnzocallaghan‘s prompt was “Jake and Amy talk about their pining days (inspired by tags from @juliadorable)” and that’s not wxactly what’s going on here but it’s close enough.

This is the cheesiest, fluffiest thing I’ve ever written so beware. Also a reminder that I’m taking prompts, only that I’m super slow writing so yeah.

TItle from Rent (4/5 fics titled with lyrics from musicals why am I like this)

Read on Ao3

“Babe?”

“Huh?”

“What are you thinking about?”

It’s the first day in about a month that they both have off - work has been crazy for the two of them - so it was not hard for Jake to convince her to have a lazy day in. The fact that she was awakened by a crash of thunder and heavy rain against the window of their room worked in his favor. They spent most of the morning in bed, Amy first doing that day’s crossword puzzle and then working on the ‘Christmas’ binder (which is currently almost as big as the wedding binder - turns out that spending the holiday with the Santiagos, at her parents’ insistence, needs thorough and careful planning, especially when it comes to getting presents for everyone), Jake playing Kwazy Cupcakes and watching videos of screaming animals in low volume so as not to annoy her. For lunch they had leftovers, which didn’t taste half as good as when they ordered the meal the previous night, but neither of them could be bothered to cook, so there were no complaints.

They’re on the couch now, the pouring rain reducing the view out of the window to mere inches, Jake’s head on Amy’s lap, a random rom-com playing on the TV. They only chose to watch this particular movie because it was the first thing that popped up when they opened Netflix. Neither of them wanted to repeat what happened the last time they had decided to watch something - they spent the two hours they would have used for the movie going through all the titles available and choosing what to watch (and going to bed without actually watching something). Five minutes into the movie she was already bored (rom-coms aren’t really her thing), but a quick glance at Jake was enough to know that he was enjoying it, or at least that it had his attention. She decided to busy herself making mental notes of everything she would need to add to the binder, her fingers running slowly through Jake’s curls.

At some point, she noticed, he turned away from the TV and fixed his eyes on the ceiling. She knows her husband well enough to know when there is something on his mind, so she stayed silent, waiting for the moment when he’s ready to talk. But it's been almost an hour and his attention hasn’t gone back to the movie.

“What?” he asks, rolling so that he’s lying on his back and looking up at her with a hint of a frown.

Her free hand finds its way to his chest, where she subconsciously begins to trace random patterns. “What are you thinking about?” she repeats, her voice soft, encouraging.

He puts a hand over hers and squeezes it lightly, a small smile appearing on her face when she notices his wedding ring glistening with the light coming from the TV. They’ve been married for months but she’s still not used to the feeling of seeing the ring on his finger, and the way her stomach jumps when she does so. “Us.”

“Us?” she echoes, her eyebrows raised in puzzlement.

“Yeah, the movie got me thinking…” he trails off, turning his face to the TV but going back to his previous position only a moment later. “Watching it from the outside, it seems really stupid that the guy won’t tell the lady how he feels and pine for her instead, especially because it’s obvious that she likes him back.”

“There wouldn’t be a movie then,” she says, turning her attention to the TV only to see the main characters making out under the rain while dreamy music plays in the background. That’s the thing with rom-coms - from the moment the movie begins you know how it is going to end. “Wait,” she adds a moment later, her eyes returning to him. “What does that have to do with us?”

“Really, Ames?” he chuckles. “That’s literally us before we got together - liking each other and being too dumb to do something about it.” He sits up and turns to face her, his hair an adorable, messy fluff. “We could have gotten together, like, a year before we did.”

“But you did something about it.” She moves closer to him until their thighs touch and rests her head on his shoulder, taking his hand in hers and giving it a little squeeze. “Before you went undercover.”

“Exactly, the worst possible moment. If I had said something before-”

“I think it was a good thing that we weren’t together back then.”

A frown forms on his face “What? Why?”

Amy sighs, her eyes fixed on their intertwined fingers. “You would have still gone undercover.” She gives his hand a little squeeze, his wedding ring hard against her skin. “It would have been yet another time that we’d be apart for a long time. We’ve already gone through too many of those.”

“That’s fair,” he says, leaning to place a kiss on her hair.

“It’s actually my fault we didn’t get together sooner,” she adds a moment later. “I should have broken up with Teddy long before I did. I guess I was just… scared? I didn’t want to admit to myself that I liked you.”

“Good old Teddy dropped that bomb on me,” he chuckles. “Now that was a fun trip.”

“Don’t remind me.”

“Okay, but, if you didn’t know you liked me it technically doesn’t count as being stupid,” he points out, freeing his hand and wrapping that arm around her shoulders. She has a better view of his face from this position, and the way his lips are slightly curved makes her insides fuzzy. She really does love this man more than anything in the world. “Being stupid is when you don’t act on your very obvious feelings - obvious to yourself and to everyone around you. Everyone knew I liked you.”

“Subtlety is not your strong point, babe,” she says with a smirk.

He brings his free hand to his chest in mock offence. “Hey! I can be subtle!”

“It’s not a bad thing!” she’s quick to add, smiling widely now. “It’s just a fact. I do notice the way you look at me when we’re at work and I go up to the bullpen, you know.”

“Well, of course you do. I don’t try to hide it. I don’t have to hide it because we’re married, and if I wanna smile at my amazing beautiful wife when I see her, I can do it.”

She leans forward and presses his lips against his in a soft, sweet kiss. When she wants to return to her previous position, though, his hands suddenly on her waist won’t let her, and he pulls her forward until his back meets the couch, Amy on top of him. She needs to adjust herself in order to be comfortable, and when she does, she rests her head on his chest.

“Back to the being stupid thing,” he begins after a moment, a hand slowly moving up and down her back, “you didn’t-”

“You weren’t stupid either. You tried to move on, dated someone else, broke up - it’s only natural that you didn’t want to jump into a relationship so soon after that.”

He presses a kiss on her forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment. “Well, I do feel stupid. After I got over my relationship with Sophia, you were all I could think about. I wanted to be with you so badly but I was too stupid to do anything about it, and I just… I feel like we’ve wasted so much time.”

She lifts her head so that she’s facing him, her eyes fixed on his. “Maybe we did, but I’m glad things happened the way they did. If they hadn’t, we wouldn’t be where we are now. I think we got together in a moment when we both were ready to be in a relationship. If it had happened before, who knows, maybe we wouldn’t have lasted more than a couple of months.” She brings the hand that she’s not using to prop her head on to his face, her thumb stroking his cheek softly.

“You think?”

She nods, leaning forward to brush her lips against his. “Seeing how things worked out for us, I can safely say that it’s a good thing that we didn’t rush into anything.”

“We had sex on our first official date.”

She rolls her eyes, her lips pressed so as to keep herself from smiling. “Do you regret that?”

“Are you kidding me? Absolutely not.”

She chuckles and presses her lips against his once more. “Good. And, you know, it might have taken us some time to get together, but we have our entire lives to make up for it.”

“I love you so much, Ames.” His voice is low, his gaze filled with affection. His lips are slightly curved in a soft smile that warms up her insides and makes her think that she’s the luckiest person in the world.

“I love you so much too.”

The hand on her back pulls her closer to him, and her arms move around him, her head buried in the crook of his neck. She needs to stop herself from placing light kisses on his skin - and fails to do it a couple of times. She can feel the rise and fall of his chest with his breathing, slow and steady. She meant what she said - they have the rest of their lives ahead of them and she’s determined to make the most of every single day.

[entirelymyxwn]

in which the troupe members are all terrible liars

“WD, what in the hell is going on?”

Anne felt like a broken record. She had been asking WD that same question since she woke up. Her older brother, as much as she loved him, was finally starting to get on her very last nerve. He had been acting strange all morning: first keeping her from leaving her room for ten minutes after she was ready, then making sure she didn’t walk through the ring the way she did before every show, and now finally telling her that she couldn’t rehearse her stunts on the main trapeze and that she would have to use the rickety old rig in the back.

“Anne, I told you. PT had someone come in to adjust the ropes. This way it won’t be as choppy when we hit the ground.” WD was trying his best to be convincing, but years of relying on one another had tipped Anne off to his tell: his right eye would twitch every time he told a lie. And today, his right eye wouldn’t stay open. But she also knew his habits, and this insistence on a blatant lie told her that he was not going to budge.

Exhausted from pushing back at him, the young trapeze artist rolled her eyes at her brother and walked toward the old practice rig. Over her shoulder, she called back at him, “You’ve always been a terrible liar, big brother. You can’t keep a secret if your life depended on it!”

Had she been just a few feet closer, she would have heard him mutter, “Wouldn’t bet on it, baby sister.”

��

Anne took out her frustrations on the trapeze, the way she’d been doing since she could walk. Flying through the air, twisting and turning and manipulating the space around her, she felt at home. Life was always so complicated down on the ground; up here, in the sky, everything melted away.

Up in the air, she could focus on the things that meant the most to her. The annoyance she had with WD was gone, ushered away by the realization that he would explain himself in due time. Instead, she spent her rehearsal reflecting on how much her life had changed in a single year.

Ever since PT had stepped away from his place as ringmaster and Phillip had taken up the role, the confidence and exuberance of the circus had only magnified. PT had been a terrific boss, but Phillip had grown into the mantle of ringmaster and revived the troupe with a youthfulness and flair that was unique to him only.

And Anne could not have been more proud to stand beside him, both as a supporting act and a significant other. He always credited her with giving him the courage he needed to pursue his passion, but in truth she knew that they had grown with one another. She was no longer the shy, submissive girl she had been before meeting him. Now, she was powerful and self-assured and bold, and she knew that he had much to do with it. He was the first person to ever be completely open with her, the only person she’d ever known to risk everything for her. Every touch, every kiss between them was scrutinized, but their confidence in one another became the root of their relationship.

A thud from the main tent disrupted her idle musings. Anne swung and flipped off of the trapeze, landing lightly on the ground, and made her way over to the doorway between the tents. Before she could move any further, Lettie ran into her training space and flashed a blinding smile.

“Anne! How’s the new routine coming along? Any new... uh... flips tonight?” the woman asked in earnest.

Anne narrowed her eyebrows at her friend. “Yeah, Lettie, I added a few new flips. Did you hear that noise?” she asked, edging closer to the outside of the tent.

Lettie stuck a hand out to stop her. “Actually, yes! They’re rearranging the set for one of Tom’s numbers. They finally got him the zebra he’s been wanting to ride!”

Anne raised a single eyebrow. “They have to change the layout for a zebra? If anything, it’d be easier, wouldn’t it? Since the zebra will be smaller than the horse he has now.”

“You’d think so, right? But apparently they have really particular, erm, walking habits.”

The younger girl had to laugh. “Really, Lettie? I never would’ve guessed that WD was a better liar. I’m assuming I can’t leave here just yet?”

A tired smile appeared on Lettie’s face. “Right. Yes. Do you mind? I could keep you company if you’re lonely.”

“Don’t worry about it. Could you just make sure Phillip knows where I am? I know he likes to personally make sure that everyone’s ready. And he and I always wish each other luck before every show,” she added shyly.

Her friend beamed at her. “Don’t worry, honey. He knows where you are.” Lettie’s eyes widened immediately. “I mean, yes! I’ll let him know. Have a good rehearsal!”

Honestly, was there a single normal person left in this show?

•

Two hours and about a thousand front tucks later, O’Malley stuck his head in to peek at the old rig. Anne had just stuck her hardest stunt, flipping upside down on her ring and dropping off into a cannonball straight towards the ground. When she looked up, the thief was grinning mischievously.

“Looks good, little lady.”

She laughed breathily. “Why, thank you, sir. Let me guess, you’re here to tell me that I still can’t leave?”

“Actually, Tom sent me to get’cha. Sounded mighty important. He’s up by the bathroom.”

Anne furrowed her brow in confusion. “Huh. Alright. Thanks, O’Malley. By the way, do you know where Phillip might be?”

She immediately knew something was up, because the man’s eyes stopped darting around the room and focused on a spot in the sky. “Nope. No, miss. Haven’t seen the fella. If I had, I woulda tried to get my hands on that pocketwatch.”

Anne rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. I’m sure you could afford your own now, buddy.”

•

Anne was officially concerned. It was half an hour to showtime, and not a single person was in sight. The whole way up to the bathrooms, the tent had felt eerily quiet. In fact, the only signs of life were coming from the main rings: footsteps and overlapping voices drew her attention, but the Irish giant had been standing at the entrance and urged her on to find Tom.

When she finally made it to the troupe bathrooms, Tom was standing in the sink, holding her best wig delicately in his hands. “I think we’ve gotta get you gussied up tonight, Anne!”

She quirked an eyebrow. “It’s a Tuesday in March, Tom. What makes tonight so special?”

The man glared at her and thrust the wig into her hands. “Do you have to ruin my mood, Anne? I got a frickin’ zebra waiting for me downstairs, that’s what’s special. Now get some glitter on your face and shine, lady!”

“Okay, alright! Goodness. Any other requests?”

“As a matter of fact, yeah. Gimme a nice smile and try to enjoy this one. I really want this to go well, alright?”

Anne’s face softened. Tom was the only one all day that had been genuine with her. “You got it, my friend. Hey, any idea where Phillip might be?”

At that very moment, she heard loud footsteps outside the doorway.

“Phillip!” she called, recognizing his crimson jacket immediately.

He turned around rapidly, left hand tucked into his back pocket. He flashed a quick smile, but his eyes glazed over her and moved back down towards the main tent. “Hi, baby. I hope you had a good day.”

“Actually, I—“

“Anne, I’m sorry, but there’s still so much to do and only ten minutes to curtain. But I’ll find you afterwards, alright?”

She frowned as he began to walk away. “Phillip! You’re forgetting something.”

His eyes widened as he hurried back to her side, pressed a rushed kiss to her lips and then her temple, and sped out towards the stage alone.

The hurt Anne felt must have been spelled across her face, because Tom tugged on her hand and gave her a wide smile. “Come on, girlie. You’ve got a performance to give. Now show me those pearly whites!”

•

The show ran as smooth as ever. Phillip, ever the showman, has put on his most energetic smile for the crowd. He had taken her hand in the opening number, though the faint twinge of sadness still stung her chest. Otherwise, it was like any other night. Contrary to what Lettie had told her, the setup of the ring was largely the same; it seemed the switch from horse to zebra wasn’t as drastic as everyone had thought.

Anne and WD’s aerial routine was a highlight, her dangerous flips and twirls drawing cheers and gasps from the crowd. She couldn’t help but peek at Phillip’s reaction after each landing, but he was whispering madly to Lettie and hardly paying her any attention. Anne threw herself through the skies with more passion in response, as if she were trying to swing away from the sting of his dismissal.

By the time the final number rolled around, she was thoroughly unenthused. The only thing keeping her from ditching the dance completely was Tom’s encouraging smile as he rode around the ring on his zebra. Though her heart wasn’t in the choreography, the crowd cheered as loud as ever.

Just as she and the troupe belted out the final few notes, she extended her hand toward Phillip’s the way she always did. This time, though, her ringmaster wasn’t in his usual spot.

Great, she thought. Now I look even more foolish.

That was when she noticed that nobody was looking at her. Instead, everyone was pointing towards the ceiling. Anne looked up and gasped loudly, tears welling in her eyes.

Phillip was swinging on her rope, descending the height of the tent slowly, beaming from ear to ear. As his feet touched the ground, Anne noticed that his right hand was clenched tightly at his side. He walked directly towards her, smile unwavering, and planted a sound kiss on her lips. She stood in surprise for a second before wrapping her arms around his neck, unable to help the smile that spread as she kissed him back.

Finally, he let her go and stood in front of her, adjusting his coat and clearing his throat before speaking.

“Anne, I love you. I your soul, your selfless heart. I love the way you’ve inspired me to become a better version of myself. And I love that you are the one I was meant to find. You are by far the most extraordinary woman I have ever had the pleasure of knowing or the privilege of loving. You make me strong, you support me, and you inspire me every single day. And just as I know how sensational you are, I know that the family we make will be just as breathtaking. So, Anne Wheeler,” he breathed before bending on one knee, opening his right hand to reveal a glittering white gold band that featured a single sparkling round diamond. Her hand flew to her mouth as tears began to fall down her face. “Will you do me the greatest honor of my life? Will you marry me?”

Anne tried to speak, but the words caught in her throat. She wiped hot tears off of her cheeks. The tent was silent, waiting anxiously to hear her reply. She sobbed once more before nodding vigorously. “I will. Yes, Phillip, yes!”

The room erupted. The crowd was screaming with joy, a sight she would have never dreamed she would see. The troupe behind her, her chosen family, was crying right alongside her. Phillip beamed, eyes teary, as he slipped the brilliant ring onto her finger. His strong arms wrapped around her frame as he dipped his head to kiss her once again, and they shared a split second of solitude before WD and the rest of the troupe swallowed them in cheers and hugs. He held her hand the whole time, and after everyone had bid their congratulations and well wishes, they locked eyes and beamed at one another, in love and enthralled with the life that awaited them.

[abeautifulquiet]

We met on a Saturday afternoon. It was an accident too. If something had changed, I'd never have met you. Some days I wonder if that would have been better.

I was sitting at my normal table, in my normal coffee shop. Java Juice, on the corner of Maple and Seventeenth. I loved the feel of the place, with it's glazed wooden interior, warm and soft lighting, and light background noise. It was my sacred place, great for quiet contemplation and inspiration. Also, their dark roast was to kill for.

Java was a great place for watching people. He knew things about the other regulars that he had no reason to know. Like how May Paulsen came here every other Friday and sat in the third booth from the door and cried. Her husband was cheating on her with his assistant. She'd seen their messages on his phone. He didn't know.

They had a two-year-old daughter named Silvia. May pretended that she didn't know for the sake of the kid, but she took every other Friday afternoon off from work to sit at her table and let it all out. Her tears mixed with her chai latte, and she was able, just for an hour, to stop pretending that she wasn't broken.

Mancio Capaldo was a business executive who spent more than he earned. His suits, which looked expensive, were fake and cheap, as was his watch. The car he drove was real, but he'd be paying it off for years. He knew it, too. He was never married, and never would be. The only thing he held in his heart was a love for money. No woman would be able to love him, and he wasn't exactly the type to share his wealth, what little of it there was left. He wore too much cologne and too little deodorant.

Claire Estelle was a college kid studying anthropology. She had a strained relationship with her parents, mostly due to her girlfriend, Vienna. Vienna was a beautiful, smart, and talented girl, studying journalism. The only thing that made her unfit in their eyes was her gender, an unfortunate by-product of a strict Catholic upbringing. They came here to study and often sat near me. We knew each other by name and had a conversation every time our trips to Java Juice coincided.

One of the upsides to having a photographic memory such as mine is that I never forget a face. Not a single one. Every person who came into Java was imprinted in my mind. That's why you stood out.

I walked into Java Juice on that day to find someone sitting in my booth. I turned to Tysen, the host in charge of seating the clients . He knew better than to seat someone in my booth, especially when there were many other seats available. I didn't even really get a good look at the girl in my booth before I stomped over to confront him.

"Tysen!"

"C'mon, don't get angry with me. She wanted that booth specifically. You weren't here yet and she's a paying customer."

"That's my booth."

"No, that's our booth that you like to sit in."

I grumbled and stomped to the booth across the room from mine. I set my computer bag down and glared at the girl sitting in my booth. Then I stopped because I really saw you.

You had a pile of books nearly your own height sitting on the table next to you. I saw Jane Austen, Charlotte Bronte, Arthur Conan Doyle. I saw classics and a few newer fiction pieces.

You had those long, blonde curls that seemed to glitter in the soft light of Java's string lamps. I couldn't see your eyes, but your face was so beautiful, even from across the room. You had soft curves in both face and body, and you had nice makeup on that accentuated your features.

I thought that you were beautiful. That was my first thought, no matter how cliche. However, I'd seen plenty of beautiful women in Java before. Your beauty wasn't why I approached you.

I approached you because of the look on your face. You were reading a thick novel of some obscure English origin, and the expression that played across your features as you simply devoured the words was nothing short of perfection. It was rapture.

I had never before seen someone so entranced by words on a paper.

You left me speechless.

As a writer, I have a keen eye and a fondness for things that are beautiful. As a writer, I have an eye for things that are unusual. As a writer, I have an all-encompassing love for things that are interesting.

You checked all the boxes. I think that maybe Tysen knew that when he seated you. To this day I wonder if you really insisted on sitting there, or if Tysen knew exactly what he was doing.

I'm not exactly sure what gave me the courage to gather my things, walk over to the booth, and plop down across from you, but whatever it was, I thank it daily.

The funny thing is, you didn't even seem surprised when I sat down. Your face dropped at my approach, and I realized, with some amusement, that you weren't mourning my arrival, but the fact that you were expected to put down the book and exchange words with me.

When you looked up at me, you smiled and I nearly died. You had the cutest dimples, and from this distance, I could see a spattering of freckles across your nose and cheekbones, and I noticed that your eyes were blue. Stormy grey-blue, like a thundercloud. You smelled like fresh rain and lavender.

I started, feeling a bit wary that you didn't know me and I didn't know you.

"Hi. I'm Micah. Micah Stevenson . I'm truly sorry for pausing your book, but you seemed to be really enjoying it and I had to come over and take a look for myself. Anyone who reads Charlotte Bronte obviously has superior taste, and I've been looking for a good book recently."

Your eyes sparkled and your cheeks flushed. You seemed to be both delighted by my question and embarrassed at being caught in the midst of your addiction.

I extended my hand tentatively towards you, and you took it, shaking it voraciously.

"Eluska. Ocariz."

I raised one eyebrow in curiosity. Your name didn't sound American, but your features and style were very caucasian. The linguistics of your name sounded familiar to me as if I'd heard it before.

You noticed my puzzled expression and began to explain, but I stopped you before the words left your lips.

"Your name. Basque?"

Your jaw dropped in amazement.

"Yes! How did you know?"

"I'm a writer. I know lots of things that don't exactly correlate with each other."

You smiled and grabbed the book you had been so enamored with earlier. The front of the novel was inscribed with golden letters that read The Great Gatsby.

"Really? Your first time reading it? I'd have expected it to be on the top of your list."

"No."

"No?"

"My fifth time reading it." You smiled.

This revelation left me shocked. Your fifth time? How was it, then, that you seemed so in love with the pages? How did it happen that you were still so awed by these words you already knew?

As if sensing my questions and shock, you smiled and laughed.

"Men are so silly. Why should you only read a book once?"

"Doesn't it get old, after a couple times?"

"No. I just fall in love with the words all over again."

I think you owned a little part of me. Even then, you did. I fell in love with you at a little booth at my favorite coffee shop, the first time I met you. I was so far in over my head, and I didn't even know it.

We talked for a while after. Eventually, you had to go and I had work to do. We parted ways, but I didn't forget you. I remembered the girl with the curly hair and the books.

---

My friends, Marc and Joen, convinced me to go out with them one night. The clubs and bars have always been their thing, but I never liked them. It was Joen's birthday, though, so they guilted me into coming out with them.

After a few too many shots and a multitude of bachelorettes at the table next to us, both of my friends disappeared with different blondes, and I knew they'd be occupied for a few hours at the least. I was the designated driver, though, so I had to stay.

I bought myself a drink. And then a second drink, when I started to feel a little sad. Then a third, when an hour had gone by and there was still no sign of my compadres.

Fourth, fifth, possibly sixth but I forgot, drinks went by. And then I was hammered. For some strange reason, I seemed to think it was a good idea to go dance. The floor was packed with people and they were playing some ramped-up version of a rap song. Girls were twisting and shimmying and shaking. Guys were leering. It just seemed like the place to be.

I was dancing, if you could have called it that, when I caught a flash of gold in the corner of my eye. I smelled a hint of rain and lavender and turned, confused. No. This wasn't your scene. There was no way that out of all of New York City, I happened to go to the same bar as you on the same night.

There was suddenly a hand, folded through mine, and I was being pulled back. Out and away. I caught a flash of blonde hair and storm eyes before I came back to my senses a little.

"Wait... I. Igotta..gotta driveee. My friends."

You laughed and it sounded like a river. "You, my friend, are in no shape to be driving anywhere. They'll get a taxi."

"My car..."

"Will be fine until morning. This isn't your kind of place, and you're going to get hurt, flailing around on the dance floor like an idiot. C'mon."

You pulled the door open with your other hand, still keeping a firm grip on me, and pulled me out into the humid night. We walked a little way, down a back street, and to an alley. I remember being vaguely concerned that I didn't know you very well, and maybe you were going to kill me.

I also remember clearly thinking that I'd be fine with that.

Your makeup was glittering in the light of the neon sign in the alley and you looked so beautiful. You were wearing this glittery dress that hugged all your curves and makeup to match. Your hair was all around your shoulders and your eyes were laughing. You looked so beautiful and I had forgotten everything in those blue eyes.

Maybe it was the tequila, or maybe I was just out of my mind, but I really couldn't keep my hands off of you. I grabbed your hips and slammed you against the brick wall in the back of the alley. And then I looked in your eyes for any signs of fear or anger or anything that told me that you didn't want this, but I saw nothing. Actually, that's not true. I saw hunger.

I kissed you. Deep and slow and burning. Like this was all I'd ever needed. And at that moment, it was.

You were making these little noises like you were a baby animal or something. These little tiny moans that heated my whole body up and set my blood on fire. Your fingernails were digging into the skin on my arms and your body was warm and your skin was smooth and I wanted all of it.

I wanted to fuck you, right here in the alleyway, and claim you as my own. Your head was thrown back and my mouth was on your neck and it occurred to me that whatever you were doing with your hips was going to break me, and I was about one more kiss away from ravaging you, this perfect, beautiful, stunning specimen of a woman, in a dirty, rat-infested alleyway. You deserved better treatment.

I pulled away and took in the full sight of you, breathing heavy, priorly perfect hairdo and makeup all messed up, glittery dress bunched up around your thighs. It took all I had to restrain myself.

The drinks weren't worn off, but during however long our stay in this alleyway had been, I'd recovered my ability to speak in mostly full sentences.

"Ms. Ocariz, I...would like to move this... somewhere much more private." You were still looking dazed, just staring at me with dull eyes from the wall where I'd had you.

Eventually, you shook off your stupor and nodded.

"Yeah, yeah my car is just around the block and my apartment is like two minutes that way." You basically dragged me all the way to your car, and I'm pretty sure you ran at least two red lights on your way home. While you drove, I rested my hand on your thigh, right under the hem of your dress. While not exactly the most proper place for my hand to go, you certainly weren't complaining.

We barely made it in the door.

The second the door was closed, you jumped at me and wrapped your legs around my waist I blindly stumbled forward until I found what I assumed to be a wall.

You weren't small, but I was strong and determined, so I did what I had to do.

In the span of about one second, my jeans were around my ankles with my boxers. You weren't wearing any. You tilted just barely to the side and then there was bliss. Perfect, complete, divine ecstasy.

You made this noise when I started to move, which nearly had me crumbling in the first minute. Your head was thrown back and you kept whimpering, like a lost puppy or some sort of wounded animal. And it was glorious.

You kept getting louder and louder and louder and your skin was so warm on mine. In mere minutes, you screamed out my name and bit my shoulder. I followed soon after, moving through both of our cries.

I was sweating and spent, but not done yet. I wanted more. I wanted to see all of you, kiss every inch of your skin. I let you down and as if reading my mind, you grabbed my hand and led me to your bedroom. You had a huge floor to ceiling window in your room, which you hadn't minded to put blinds on, and I could see why. Your room faced the entire New York City skyline and all the lights of the city were on full display, a beautiful show of colors and flashes.

Your gold dress had settled back down and you walked over to the window, touching the glass softly.

"It's beautiful, isn't it? All the people, going around on their own separate lives, not knowing anything about me. My insignificance is comforting."

I came up behind you and stripped off my shirt. I walked up behind you and pulled your dress off over your head, pleased to see you wore no other garments either.

You pressed up against your window and waited for me. I obliged.

Our breath mixed on the window and you made more of those noises that I liked so much. The night city illuminated your skin and I breathed in your scent, fresh rain and lavender. I wondered what made you smell like that.

After a while, my movements turned sloppy and I once again reached that peak of beautiful pleasure. You did not, which displeased me.

You seemed to think that we were done because you turned around as if to head to bed.

I gently caught your arm in my hand and pulled you back to the window. With careful precision, I lifted one of your legs and put it on my shoulder. Then I did something with my mouth that you really seemed to enjoy. It took a little while, but I'm good with my tongue, and soon I had to assist you in standing. When you regained your ability to function, you immediately dropped to your knees to do the same.

I stopped you though, pulling you back up for a kiss. You were tired, I could see it. That specific thing could wait for another day.

In the dull glow of the city lights, you pulled me into bed. Still naked, I embraced your body and pulled you very close to me. The room was rather cold and you were softer than any blanket I'd ever felt. That seemed to please you and you made a contented noise deep in your throat.

After a short time, I fell asleep in your arms.

----

I woke up to your ceiling. Which wouldn't have been so surprising, had you not painted a vast, sprawling rendition of Starry Night on your ceiling. The colors had been unnoticeable in the darkness of your room last night, but in the early morning light, the swirling colors and shapes were unavoidable.

You were still sleeping soundly, your breasts pushed against my back and your arms entwined around my waist. You pulled me very tightly to you and seemed unwilling to let me go. Slowly, I turned to look at you. Your makeup had been mostly wiped off, either on the wall or the window or the pillows. I didn't mind. It showed off all your freckles better. Your hair was draped across your arms and the bed and me, which I also didn't mind. It was much longer than I'd originally thought.

Carefully, I removed myself fro your embrace. Miraculously, it didn't wake you. I went around the room, grabbing discarded articles of clothing. I didn't bother putting them on yet, I could do that in the doorway, where you wouldn't wake up and see me. It was quite the feat, but I managed to grab all my clothes.

As I walked towards the doorway, I looked around the apartment. I'd been a little preoccupied last night and hadn't really taken much note of the scenery.

Everywhere I looked, there was beauty. Her apartment was decorated with Christmas lights, the warm-colored ones that look all aesthetic-y. There were also flowers everywhere, and books on every surface. In the kitchen, there was a living vertical garden of herbs and spices and an essential oil diffuser was emitting lavender scent. So that's where you got it from.

Your home was beautiful, and unlike anything I had ever seen before. It was beautiful, unusual, and most of all, it was interesting.

Standing there, in the doorway of your home, I thought about you. I thought about your hair and your eyes and that look on your face while you were reading a book for the fifth time, but devouring it like it was the first. I thought about your whimpers and your soft skin and the noises you made with my head between your legs. Thinking about all of it, I realized that I didn't want to leave. I wanted to stay.

I dropped my clothes on your couch. I walked back into the bedroom and you opened your eyes when I flopped back down.

"Where did you go?"

"Bathroom," I said.

I put my hand at the apex of your thighs and we stayed like that for a very long time.

----

Our first few months of dating went so smoothly that it was like a dream. At times I'd find myself wondering when I'd wake up and realize that I was still alone. It never happened. We spent most of our time at either your house or Java because I was fond of the people and you were fond of the coffee.

I told you about my people watching, and you wanted to know everything. We sat at my booth and you asked me to tell you about every single person who walked through the door. I was more than happy to do so. Every time I told you some little slice of another person's life, your eyes would light up. You often told me that I was your favorite storyteller.

My house was boring and yours was beautiful, so we spent our time there. During the day, I would sit on your couch among the lavender and the books, and I would write. The novel that I'd been trying to write for years was finally taking shape, and it was all because of you. During the night, your whimpers echoed through the apartment, and sometimes I had to cover your mouth as to not alarm the neighbors.

You were such a beautiful mystery, and I was such a broken adventure. We made beautiful stories and I remember every single one of them. I suppose that that is the issue with a photographic memory. I remember everything, from the way your face looked when you came, to the sound of your voice when you were about to yell at me.

At the beginning of our sixth month, we had our first fight.

---

We were sitting in Java. You were reading and I was writing, and we were both content in our separate activities.

Our peace was interrupted by sobbing. There were only two tables being used, besides our own, and I knew instinctively who it was. May Paulsen often cried while she was here. It was the only time that she could stop pretending, and she took advantage of the opportunity.

She was crying harder than her normal pace. She liked to be discreet with her tears, and this was anything but. She was crying in huge, chest-heaving sobs and the sound was breaking your heart. I knew what you were going to do before you did it, just how I knew that I couldn't stop you.

You slid out of our booth and went over to her, quieting her with soft words and an arm around her. Together, you chatted quietly, helping her through her tears. Eventually, she quieted and you came back to our table.

I raised an eyebrow at you, asking silently.

"Today was Silvia's third birthday. She feels hopeless and depressed because of her situation, but she knew she couldn't risk her daughter."

"What did you say?" I dreaded your answer.

"I told her she needs to confront him. Both she and her daughter's suffering will last much longer if she does nothing."

I grimaced and sighed, putting my hand to my forehead.

"What?" You frowned at me and narrowed your eyes over the top of your reading glasses.

"Silvia isn't developmentally ready for a blow-out fight like that. She's three. Plus, it isn't our business and it isn't our fight. You should've minded your own beeswax.."

"She was suffering, and she needed advice. I don't know what you expected from me, Micah."

I said nothing, and neither did she. The silence lasted the drive home and over dinner. She turned her back to me when we went to bed. After seeing this, I left and went home to my own bed. I hadn't done that in weeks.

You remained mad at me for a week. We didn't speak. It was such a stupid fight and it was such an easy thing to fix, but I couldn't do it. You'd messed up my reality. I stayed separate from these people that I watched. I went unseen, and I knew their stories from afar. I didn't get involved, and I didn't make myself known. Those were the rules of people-watching.

You'd broken all of them.

When we got back together and made up, something was different. Something had changed in this perfect dynamic of ours and it ruined everything.

----

We pretended like things were fine for months. We went on with our lives, did our thing, still had sex almost daily. But things weren't the same.

Part two on the way

[renrutnnej]

I never wanted to be a mother

Oh boy, the miracle of birth and whatnot!

I’m really bad at absolutes. For example, as long as I can remember I’ve told people I never wanted to be a wife or a mother. As a little girl I remember looking at both jobs and being like, “Nah.”

My daughter was not my first pregnancy. The first time I was en-wombed was in university and I was a freshman who in the short span of six months time was sexually assaulted, and entered into a volatile physically and emotionally abusive relationship. Because of some mental health problems and a total lack of self esteem, I didn’t see either of these things in their correct light, I just thought my first year away from home was a real education in female adulthood.

Fortunately my first pregnancy ended in a miscarriage. Is it weird or wrong to say that? I don’t think so. I was 19 and had already chipped a front tooth from being punched in the face by my boyfriend. So when I think about that time in my life, I don’t feel any guilt. Also I didn’t know I was pregnant until it was too late and what I thought was the worst period of my life was actually a miscarriage.

This gave me the impression that my physical person was a hostile environment to children. It proved that I knew I could and would not be a mother, ever.

—

To talk about my daughter’s birth, I have to set the stage, which in retrospect I’ve always described as an unfortunate series of events, but now I realize fully how incomplete and lacking in good substance my life would have been without her. I have to look at these events as exactly the way things were supposed to happen.

First, I could not find a writing job out of college (I graduated with a degree in English literature, lucrative I know). All of my self esteem issues came to a head and I resigned myself to the fact that I had been posing in college as a person with ambition when really I was going to end up staying a small town person working retail or as another’s administrative assistant or something.

Second, my sister graduated from college the following year and decided to move to Las Vegas. Through zero seconds of trying to convince me I decided to come along. Also our parents were already living there (they had moved while we were both in university).

This new start inspired me and I decided to do something completely different with my life. I was going to change the world by joining the Peace Corps. Whoa, except that stipend does NOT even come close to covering my credit card bills and student loans. Umm, backup plan, I was going to change the world by teaching English in South America, somewhere like Argentina or something. In the meantime I had to save up for this adventure so I took the first job I could, in retail.

Third, sexism has pissed me off for a long time. Growing up tomboy really instilled an (arguably ignorant) type of jealous competitiveness in me. Anything they can do, I can do better, or in the very least I can do it too. So when my male peers (retail managers) were having relationships with younger employees, I decided to too. I’m a modern woman, and cougars were like definitely a thing by then. I started hooking up with a very hot, barely legal (but also very legal), sales associate.

Next, in a few months time my sister moved to Seattle and my parents moved back to Washington state. They moved me into my own apartment on Warm Springs and back home to Richland in the same weekend. Finally I was a modern woman living in Las Vegas, with her lifelong companion cat (i.e., cat I picked out when I was 6 years old) Beauty, making it happen.

Just kidding, I got pregnant.

—

Getting pregnant a second time was a complete shock. And by that I mean, I thought it was impossible. As in, not even within the realm of possibility.

I’d been having some lady troubles for sometime and since my sister had had Exorcist level kidney stone problems I went to the doctor right away for fear. The doctor confirmed what I had known since I was 19. Well, almost. She said it appeared that my symptoms might be an indication that I was infertile. Twenty-four year old me: duh. But they still had to run the tests.

Getting pregnant brought intricate complexity and mind-numbing simplicity to my life. Having to tell the parents of my 18 year old (now boyfriend, ugh) that I was pregnant was terrifying. Having to tell my parents, worse.

No more changing the world.

No more Argentina.

No more writing.

No more freedom.

I had just fast tracked my path to wife and mother by being a “modern woman” making things happen.

No more infertility, what the hell?

And since this was clearly a miracle baby, getting rid of her never once entered my mind. This was obviously a baby Jesus type situation.

We moved from Vegas to Kansas City with his family. To say it politely, my parents weren’t pleased by my condition and the distance did us both a lot of good (I told myself). His family, on the other hand, were very happy and excited by the baby’s coming. At least they always gave the very genuine appearance of being so. I was less excited.

Actually I was the most depressed I’d been in my life at that point. I knew my body was a hostile place to fetuses so what the heck!?

I absolutely could not imagine the whole exit strategy of my situation. Instead I imagined death.

I took lots of time to myself and wrote pages and pages of tear-stained journals I can’t bear to read now. I slept as much as I could. I was mourning my death while I was still alive, growing a life inside of me.

Also I had to get rid of my cat, what the fuck.

—

I knew I was never meant to be anyone’s mother and so I was positive I would carry this baby to term and die during labor, and she would be cared for by this warm and loving family. And I would die young like I’d always predicted. Well, youngish.

My OBGYN became worried by my morbid questions about death rates.

I refused to have a baby shower or anything resembling a baby shower because I couldn’t imagine celebrating the event that was going to kill me.

My lamaze class teacher asked me stop asking questions about worst case scenarios because I was scaring the other mothers.

—

Working in retail brought about what I felt to be appropriate levels of shame and self-hatred.

Strangers, assuming me to be much younger than I was, made completely hideous comments about me and my baby, and my education (lol, right). I was constantly touched and given advice by strangers, interrogated regularly.

My retail district was close to a particularly violent one regarding shoplifters. Other managers in my store had been maced or stabbed with the tools shoplifters brought into stores to break off the security tags. One day I found the equivalent of a shiv in the front room of my store and went into the stockroom and had a complete mental and emotional break down imagining approaching the wrong customer just one time.

I felt I deserved this, though it enraged me. This was my penance.

My hormones surged. I snuck as many drinks of wine at family dinners as I could. (Sorry baby, but red wine is delicious). I had nightmares about delivering babies with heads shaped like deflated basketballs, or delivering piles of bloody guts. I obsessed over my single friends awesome lives (aka highlight reels) on Facebook.

It made me bitter that I had to die. I became resentful of my baby’s father, even though he tried his best with me. He wanted to marry me and have more kids, be a dad. I knew she’d be okay. Hopefully he’d marry someone who wasn’t anything like me or that evil stepmom bitch in Cinderella.

I’d end up letting him name her. I chose her middle name, Violet.

—

It began one Sunday night, after a large steak dinner (with red wine) at his parents. I kept feeling like I had to poop really bad every twenty minutes. It was so bad that I couldn’t sleep. By 1am I was on the toilet trying to push steak out and when I saw drops of blood, I freaked out. IT’S TIME! I screamed.

He sprung into action. What do we bring? Spoiler alert, I hadn’t even packed a “go” bag because I never planned on coming back.

We listened to Jason Mraz on the short drive to the hospital. God, this is the last song I’m ever going to hear. I focused on the words and tried to clear my mind of pushing all of my guts out.

When we got to the hospital, they did some tests and I wasn’t far enough along. Maybe this is a fake out, and I can go home and go to bed. No, the nurse told me, you’ll progress it just takes a little time.

Another nurse came in and did a quick ultrasound to see the baby’s position. Her tone worried me, looks like this one’s a breach baby. You’ll have to adjust your birthing plan. Just knock me out, I sighed. Oh oops, those are the baby’s shoulders. I thought it was her butt. She was low and engaged, and I was fine. That fucking nurse.

So he walked me around the hospital corridors while I had the worst cramps of my life. I tried not to cry.

This is how it ends, me alone in the hospital, out in the midwest, without any of my friends or family, with this kid, and this other kid inside me.

Around 4am I finally reached a point where I could get pain meds and this other drug that would help my labor progress while I was medicated, but first they had to break my water. I was terrified of any more pain. They showed me what looked like a knitting needle that they’d insert to break the membrane. The nurse assured me, her name was Bridget by the way, that it was painless. I sobbed. Couldn’t they just knock me out. My knees clamped shut and I couldn’t keep from trembling.

But it was painless and suddenly I was sitting in a puddle of what just felt like warm pee. That was it, water broken. I felt like an idiot. The drugs came quickly after that and by 5am I had progressed to the point that I could get the one thing that was keeping me going through this whole ordeal: an epidural.

The anesthesiologist came in and sat me perpendicular to the gurney. He told me to sit still because he was putting a needle the length of a ruler down my spine. But the painkillers really got to me and I had to crack jokes about how the only thing separating my naked body from the doctors and nurses in that room was a piece of paper gown. My boyfriend looked white. I was already stoned.

Afterward, I was finally comfortable, and I drifted off to sleep quickly. Bridget came in once an hour on the hour and put her whole hand in my vagina to see how far down the head was. I didn’t like being woken up but I couldn’t really feel anything and Bridget was my best friend at that point.

Around 10:45am things picked up. My baby’s dad was downstairs eating breakfast with his family when Bridget told me I’d need to call him, I was almost at 10 centimeters. He came back with his mom and Bridget told me now when I felt the urge to push to do it.

I didn’t want to poop on the table and I couldn’t get up to like clear things out before I labored a baby so I gave some weak ass pushes. Bridget could tell.

I gave one hard push and she exclaimed, JUST LIKE THAT! But I saw his face and I knew I had pooped. The shame. But again, I was stoned so meh.

Strangely I had turned down the floor length mirror at the foot of the bed because I didn’t want to see myself die, but if the end was coming I really didn’t want to see it.

“Bridget can you take off your glasses? With the lights and everything I can see my vagina and I really just can’t right now.”

She did.

With his mom video recording the monumental eruption and destruction of my vagina, my first child was born at 11:25 am. The doctor, I don’t know when she showed up (?), put the blue, guts covered baby on my chest.

She was out. I had tried not to picture her before because I never wanted to let myself go down that road in my mind.

I looked at her. She looked at me. She was gross. But she was an alive thing with eyes who looked at me. She looked like she’d been freezing (she was blue) in bloody Cream of Wheat. Also she had pooped in utero and that was everywhere, super great.

I had nothing profound to say, so I said, “Oh my god, a baby.”

Then they whisked her away to clean her up and do all the baby tests. Everyone else left too.

My body got overtaken with waves of pregnancy hormones coursing through me while I delivered the placenta and my whole body convulsed as the pregnancy hormones left me. NO, I DO NOT WANT TO SEE THE PLACENTA. Jesus.

The doctor began to clean up the volcanic eruption where my lower lady parts used to live. I knew I had felt a slight burning sensation during the birth, but I didn’t know it was a tear. I simply thought it was the slight onset of death.

It didn’t make sense to me that I was alive.

I had no plan for this. I didn’t even bring a nightgown.

Now what?

—

As of the time of my pregnancy, I can’t recall seeing any birth or pregnancy narratives that highlighted feelings like fear, depression, or general reservations without framing them them as fleeting blue aspects of an otherwise golden soft lit scenario. That’s not real life. I’m sharing my story, because even though I was certainly depressed, I don’t know that my feelings of doubt at the sudden onset of potential motherhood are all that uncommon.

When I share my true feelings and experience with friends, I often hear that other women are relieved by my candor. Dutiful, knowing mother is a trope to which I do not subscribe, and frankly, doesn’t reflect my experience at all. So I’m offering my story as just one against the many almost romantic Disney-esque birth and pregnancy stories. My daughter and I did not live happily ever after, and our relationship, just like any other, is one that has required hard work and patience (a lot of patience) but we’re both better for it.

This story originally appeared on Medium, April 3, 2016.

[clumsycalumblr-blog]

Escape | Calum Hood

I’m back!! I’ve been gone for so long and it feels so good to write. If you didn’t see my latest post, I will be coming back with new blurbs (possibly 4) and also updates on my stories. This blurb is inspired by my favorite song by Kehlani from her new album. So, to understand the story listen to the song or even look up the lyrics. This song gets me in my feels. Hopefully y’all enjoy!

(not my gif)

“Hey what’s up with you?” He walks up to the tan couch I’m currently sitting on while on my phone, trying to avoid any interaction with him. Calum plops down beside me making me jump a little, and I huff while crossing my arms and continuing to refresh Instagram and Twitter, hoping to find more things to distract me. He keeps prodding by elbowing my arm, getting a confused look on his face.

“Y/N we were just fine yesterday, remember? Why are you acting so cold now?” The boys were recording things for their 3rd album right now, and I continued to watch the other 3 through the glass where they were all recording their own vocals. It was distracting enough to keep from answering Calum’s question, as I shiver at the thought of the events that played out yesterday. It was unexpected, but oh so life-changing. But Calum couldn’t know that. For the sake of his sanity and his own happiness, I had to act as if it didn’t mean anything to me. 

“Because I didn’t realize things yesterday Calum. That’s why.” 

“Realize what? You told me you had feelings for me too, is that what you’re talking about?” I shook my head with a slight chuckle.

“I realized I didn’t mean it, that’s what I’m talking about.” I said point blank, finally finding the courage to finally look him dead in the eyes. He looked shocked, all color slowly draining from his face and searching mine for any sign of this being a joke. Oh boy, I wish it was.

“W-what do you mean…you…you don’t feel anything for me?”

“I feel that you’re good at making me feel good, physically anyway. But other than that, I don’t know what other feelings are there.” By now the boys had heard us muffled through the recording walls, and they stopped singing, carefully listening to us. Because things were getting so heated with Calum, we hadn’t realized and kept talking louder and louder.

“How could you! I opened myself up to you!”

“And who’s fault is that! You should’ve stayed silent like you’ve always been!” He opened his mouth and slowly closed it, showing balled fists by his sides. He knew I was right. Calum had never opened up to girls he knew he liked, knowing nothing would come out of it because he was scared. Scared of commitment, scared of rejection, scared of heart break. He never experienced it, and never wanted to, but when he told me he felt very strong feelings for me, I confessed as well. But after sitting in bed all night looking at my dull ceiling, I realized Calum just needed an escape, and I was it. I had convinced myself he didn’t really feel for me, but wanted to feel something for someone that could actually learn to love him for all his faults and mistakes. To love him through his smoking habit, to love him through his depression, to love him through his social anxiety, everything wrong with him really. And the thing is that I could, I have, and I would continue to do that for him. But no, I’m just his best friend, and everybody knows that the girl best friend gets friendzoned every time, and I wasn’t ready for him to tell me that he didn’t really love me but only used me because I was the only person that could love him. So, I did it before he could.

“I’m out of here Calum. Don’t call me, don’t text me.” I grabbed my jacket and hoisted it over my shoulders and strutted toward the door, opening it and slamming it shut.

(3rd person POV)

Luke hung his headphones up quickly and rushed out with the rest of the boys, watching Calum as his chest rose and fell quickly and heavily. With each breathe his jaw tightened. They could tell he was holding back something to show what he was feeling whether it be tears, shouting, or a punch in the wall. Luke grabbed his shoulders and shook him a bit, trying to get Calum to look at him.

“Hey, bro, calm down okay. Maybe she’s just not having the best day. Arz yells stuff like that to me all the time. But you know what I do? I go out there and fight for her because I love her, and I don’t want her to leave. Don’t let her leave you.” That shook Calum up enough to get his glossy eyes to look at him. His shoulders sank, at the image for Y/N leaving him. She was his right hand, his best friend, the only girl he knew he’d ever see a definite future with. “Because knowing her, Y/N can be irrational. God forbid she ends up getting on a plane back home to New York, but I wouldn’t doubt she’d do that. So go. Go fight for her.” Calum didn’t even say anything, but bolted out the door and down the hallway to the front of their recording studio. She hadn’t gone too far, but a little down the road with her phone to her ear. The closer he got to her as he ran, he could hear her saying she needed a ride, and how much it’d cost. He ran faster to her, and grabbed onto her bicep and pulled her out of her focus. Her phone dropped in the process. Y/N groaned loudly in frustration, bending down to pick it up and trying to go back to the call.

“Hello!” Nothing. “Ugh Calum! Look what you did!”

“What I did?? Look what you’re doing right now! You’re running away! You’re leaving! While I’m here trying to fight for you!”

“Calum don’t you get it! I don’t love you, I don’t have feelings for you, I don’t even like you! Yes, you’re my best friend, we’ve shared amazing memories together, but I can’t…I can’t love you.” By now, tears were rolling down my eyes, trying to look anywhere but his magical sparkling brown eyes. “I was just your escape, I was just a girl you came to when Nia told you you’re like a brother to her, you came to me when songs weren’t coming out good for you and you needed inspiration, you came to me when your parents were fighting and you had no place to run. Face it Calum, you only like me because I’m the only one truly there for you who’s a female. You think you like me Calum, but really, you like the attention I give you.” I put my hands over my eyes to block out the tears that were now fast streaming, but sobs came out of my mouth which didn’t help shield myself from showing emotion. I could feel Calum’s warm hands come up to my own and pulled them away to show my now mascara streaked face.

“Is that how you really feel? That I don’t really like you but what you do for me?” I nodded, another sob falling from my mouth. My own mind had lied to itself for so long, and now it’s keeping me from trusting that Calum really feels for me. The feeling of yourself keeping you from being with the one you really love, is the worst pain of them all, because stopping it is near impossible.

“You are already so great on your own, liking me would only bring you down Calum. I’m a handful, of course you out of everyone would know that. I’m no good for you, so don’t give me bullshit reasons as to why you think you like me. Let me go Calum!” I pulled away from his grip, to see a car with the infamous uber label on the back windshield pull up beside us. Calum let out a low shaky breathe as he watched the car stop and roll down the window.

“Are you Y/N?” The older man asked. Y/N nodded and held up a single pointer finger to him, signaling she needed a minute before hopping in. The man was nice enough to wait and not run the meter, telling her that he had nothing else to get to, but to not make it too long. She pulled me toward the trunk so the man couldn’t hear the conversation.

“Let me get in this car. Let me drive away from you, let me be away from you for a little while,” her hand came up to caress my cheek, a sad smiling playing on her lips, “I think that’s what we both need. Don’t ruin yourself and your career for a girl you’ve known since we were 18. There is going to be plenty more amazing people to come into your life. Some go, and some stay. Unfortunately, I’m one that has to go in order for you to find someone better.” She walked toward the back door to open it but Calum slammed it shut from behind her.

“Don’t do this…” She sighed, before using all her strength to rip it open, and telling the man her address to get back to the place she staying at while being with us. Calum could only look at the silver car as it drove off, knowing he was too late. There was nothing more he could do that could change the reality he was living, the reality that he had only wished was a dream. Sure, he could run after the car, he could call her until she blocked his number, he could call his own uber and go straight to her but he knew all in all, he couldn’t change her mind. Y/N was stubborn, and the words she screamed at him about not loving him, and how he was only her friend hurt him the most. Even though she was lying, he couldn’t remember or truly believe the other things she said. He walked back into the studio with hands deep in his pockets, and immediately picked up a pen and notepad and began writing, as the other boys only looked at him. Sure, the best lyrics would come out of his mind, but they’d chose Calum’s happiness and collaborate together, than him being a mess and writing on his own.

Little did he know he’d be more heart broken in the morning. He’d go back to see Y/N around 9 in the morning, only to find the place deserted except for a note addressed to him. She had packed her stuff that day, and bought a plane ticket. She in fact, left that same day back home to New York.

The first time I listed to Escape I literally cried, and I was in 5th period during class. It was so raw to me, and writing about it was the best way I could be personal with you guys. Not this exact moment, but something like this happened between me and someone else. It was a hard thing to do, but it had to be done. Message me or inbox me if you liked it or not! Thanks for reading :-)

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #65

“i couldn’t take my eyes off her, but that’s not what i took off that night.”

have you ever wanted to travel to germany?   i have, yes.  if we happen to be blessed with quite a good income, i'd really like to do that once i have children, go on a big family trip to germany.  i'd need to brush up on my german, though! is marijuana legal for "recreational use" where you live? also what is your opinion on the recent legalization of marijuana in certain states?   i don't think it is... but the whole legalization shit is stupid.  you will never convince me that marijuana isn't dangerous.  don't legalize dangerous shit. do you usually have bad symptoms around "that time of the month"?   i'd say i'm luckier than most, now that i've been on the pill.  i get mild cramps, headaches, and i usually break out a bit. how do you feel about being called sweetie/dear/honey/etc.?   i'd have no problem with it.  jason never called me any of those listed though, just "love," which was my favorite anyway. do you have your national flag hanged up anywhere outside your house?   no, we don't. would you ever go to japan?   omg yes!! have you ever been in a choir?
   i was in the church, yes. have you ever had a speech impediment?   i stutter pretty badly. give out your phone number over the internet?    i have to VERY few people. what do people usually think your ethnicity is?   it's pretty obvious i'm caucasian. how do you feel about people using graphic images as a scare tactic to promote their beliefs? (i.e.: peta, abortion…)   do it.  DO IT.  it may be "too much" for someone, but that's how you initiate action, sometimes.  now i mean if you're going to show something ludicrously morbid or something, sure, censor that, please.  some things truly are too much. do you think gender neutral bathrooms are a good idea?   i'm neutral. how about the transgender bathroom business? you know exactly what i'm talking about.   HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA TUMBLR WOULD FUCKING CLOSE MY ACCOUNT IF I SAID ONE WORD ABOUT THIS MATTER. what are some of your favorite websites for online shopping?   rebel's market makes me moist. do you think it’s fair that people are able to make a reasonable salary and live comfortable lives just by making youtube videos?   not in the slightest.  they're entertainers.  just like singers, comedians, etc... inspired by an event at my school: why do you think there’s so much girl-on-girl hate in our culture?   because the country's homophobic. do you have a nice yard? if so, do you spend a lot of time outside in it? if not, where do you go when you want to relax outdoors on nice days?   there's nothing special about it.  and there's nowhere for me to relax if i wanna go outside.  we have no chairs outside or whatever. is there a group of friends that you used to hang out with but no longer do? why don’t you hang out anymore and how do you feel about them now?   i'll admit i was a loose "member" of the gothic/emo/scene/metalheads/whatever clique in high school.  because i identified most with them.  like we all sat together at lunch and such.  it was hilarious, actually; overlooking the cafeteria, there'd just be this big splotch of black. xD  i didn't "know" everyone in the group, just names, just select people.  i miss a good number of them.  we just had this... weird, underlying connection that said "hey, you're like me." how many siblings does your significant other or crush have?   he has one older brother. what is the movie that you have waited the longest for/which film do you remember anticipating the most/are still anticipating?   WHERE THE FUCK IS "THE INCREDIBLES II" do you have any ideas for a story or movie you’re planning to write or you’d write if you got the time/had the talent? please share a synopsis!   i had plenty of story ideas as a kid, but none i never fully went through, except one.  i don't feel like sharing, mostly because i barely remember it. what is something that an interested guy/girl could comment about you, that would make you instantly open to them (e.g., “that book you’re reading is from my favorite author”)?   i wouldn't just magically say "OKAY I TRUST YOU," but it would in fact entice me to trust you easier.  probably if you mentioned being a gmm fan. do you refer to yourself by any sort of fan nickname (belieber, little monster, etc.)?   mythical beast, motherfucker! \m/ do you ever just get lazy and give up on your friendships?   no.  if you think you're going to "get lazy" with a friendship, omg, just fuck off. if you are single, even if you are normally happily single, are there certain specific things you witness that make you wish you were in a relationship (e.g., people getting engaged)?   honestly, i constantly wish i was.  that sounds very desperate and... easy-to-get-ish, but i'm not lying about myself on my own blog.  single life is very lonely to me personally.  i think almost every human seeks knowing someone is interested in them in that sense and will always be there. out of all your usernames for websites, which one is your favorite? do you use it for more than one site?   my name almost everywhere is "ozzkat," which i really like, as it combines two of my favorite things. are there any cities near you that you’re afraid to go to because of the crime rate or its other bad reputations?   fuck sharpsburg.  where i grew up. do you grandparents ever judge you or stick their heads in your business? if not, is there someone else in your life you dread seeing because of their unwanted input?   my maternal grandmother is... ugh.  she's very closed-minded about important issues; like she only JUST recently opened up her mind to mental illnesses because of some drama in my family transpiring.  so for a long time, my illnesses were invalid to her.  last time i saw her though, we got along quite well. have you ever spent the whole day (or multiple days) just looking up one thing on the internet (e.g., videos of your favorite band, how-to videos, quizzes, etc.)?   ha ha omg just a few days back i spent all day with colleen and chels looking up tats, pinning all those i wanted on pinterest! if you ever think about getting married, what are some aspects of the wedding that you would like to see in a non-traditional manner (e.g., a different color dress or “partners” over “husband” and “wife”)?   well first, i do not want a church wedding, and i'm sliiightly considering a black dress to go with the gothic theme i'm hoping for. do you ask for other people's opinions often? on what subjects do you like to get the opinions or advice of others?   yes, i love asking for other people's opinions, mainly when i'm about to make a controversial decision.  god bless the few friends i have that've always been there to give me advice when i need it. what are you religious views or your thoughts on religion in general? how long did it take you to develop them? are you still confused or trying to figure out your religious views?   i am a creationist christian, meaning i do not believe in evolution, but natural selection, as they go in opposite directions.  this is a VERY fascinating subject and i'd love to give anyone curious a link to the blog post that instilled this belief in me.  i also believe the world was not created in six literal days, but rather the "days" stood for junctures of time.  i'm not sure which christian denomination that is.  i was raised a catholic, so i've literally always believed in god, but i turned to christianity alone in high school i think, as well as creationism when my former best friend mini exposed me to it.  i am not confused in my religion, no.  i'm quite confident in it. are you a rule follower? do you get angry if other people break the rules? can you remember a time that you have broken a rule?   it depends on the rule, really.  ex. i won't kill a person, but i'll download a song illegally.  all depends on what it is, if i support the rule, or if it's legally punishable, honestly. what songwriter do you consider to be one of the best lyricists?   CRADLE OF FILTH AND OTEP OMG SLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY have you ever cried from physical pain?   as an adult?  yeah.  i fucking sobbed when i was getting my cyst emptied. what do you like best about taking surveys? do you use them to discuss current events in your personal life?   i like that they give me a chance to just... vent.  i get to talk about my life, yes, and i at least believe i can do it without being lectured. do you feel comfortable being about people your own age? do you feel like you "fit in" with people your age? in general, do you like spending time with people older or younger than yourself?   i feel... inferior to most people my age, honestly.  i don't think i fit in because i do far more unimpressive things compared to most people of my age group.  i'm not in school, i have no job, i'm not traveling to europe, i'm not married, i'm not raising a kid... i just don't feel like i belong.  simultaneously though, i like hanging out with people older than me because they're usually more mature. have you ever read more than one book at once? do you do this often?   i'm sure i have for school, but i don't do that anymore.  i don't read period. what is your favorite book series, and what is your favorite book out of that series?   ha ha omg i was MAD into the "warriors" (you know, the cat books) series in middle school through some of high school.  maybe even in elementary, i don't remember.  i don't have a favorite book in the series though, i think. who do you think reads these?   *shrugs*  i've seen my surveys taken before by people (easy to tell when everything's lower-cased and long as fuck lmao), so i guess they may read some of my answers while adding in their own.  some random tumblr users find them too, probably. can you change the oil on a car?   i cannot. the first time you discovered power:   ... i don't want to go into much detail on this, because after i thought about this question for a minute or so, i realized i have only ever felt power in a sexual situation.  i'm such a submissive person and just don't experience feeling powerful.  after thinking just now, i think me being such the sexual tease i am has to do with feeling powerful.  this is... really wrong, but i enjoyed the anticipatory knowing that jason wanted me a certain way, and because he's a man with respect, i had the say whether he could have me or not.  please do not confuse this for me saying i was controlling with my ex-boyfriend, i was incredibly submissive to him in general, but i felt in control in some sense.  for once. SCARIEST video game monster?   but... i've played so many horror games!!  uhhhh... well, i HATED the regenerators in "resident evil 4."  that fucking smile was horrifying.  hmmm... i also really hate/love the keeper/boxhead from "the evil within" bECAUSE OF HIS FUCKING WALK/JOG.  THAT thing storming towards you like that?  NO THANKS!  the one monster, however, that i think would frighten me the most in real life would be the clickers from "the last of us."  fuck those things.  they're disgusting and horrid. something someone said or did that you found extremely attractive:   well i mean, tons of things.  the thing that i believe affected me the most though was probably the time jason, in a whisper, called me his wife while we were "doing things."  he started out so afraid of commitment, and to hear him call me that in such a confident-sounding whisper, it meant... a lot.  but well.  he's gone now. something you've done that someone at least seemed to FIND extremely attractive:   lmaaoooo i'm open af on tumblr but the thing i've ever done i think jason found the most attractive, i shall not repeat.  i promise, you'd thank me. the farthest distance you would travel now to be with someone you desire:   for jason?  i'd go to the other end of the planet. what you dislike most about having a committed relationship:   i mean, i guess after you've been with someone so long, you're afraid of leaving the person even when necessary for your health.  if you're in a healthy relationship though, there's nothing i can really think of to complain about... your sexiest feature:   ... can hands be sexy?  because they're the only thing i like lmao the physical feature for which you are most often complimented:   my hair, def. a place where you have always wanted to make love:   ... a church fucking murder me the most perverted situation you have ever been in:   LOLOLOL LET'S NOT the first time you achieved orgasm:   i never have, but i think i got like agonizingly close once and had a panic attack because i didn't understand what was going on.  yes, i am truly that pathetic lmao. a person you regret sleeping with:   no one. a person you regret not sleeping with:   first i don't regret literally sleeping with jason, but i'm assuming in this context, you mean "having sex with."  in that case, jason. a fantastic kisser you have known:   only ever kissed jason, and i am QUITE sure there's no one i'll meet who'll be better.  like ffs he only had one partner before me and certain things he did with me he didn't with his ex, yet he always seemed to know what to do...? the book, song, or movie title that best describes your sexuality:   uhhh.  idk? you have a great amount of guilt regarding:   practically sexting my former best friend's boyfriend when i was like 12.  and i was the one who got them together. a moment in your life when your emotions froze and you felt absolutely nothing:   when jason told me he was talking to dillon about our relationship in a negative context... i knew. you are haunted by the memory of:   everyone knows by now. one of your most peaceful moments:   lying with jason on the trampoline, looking up at the stars... a sickness or disease you fear:   more than anything?  alzheimer's/dementia.  i can't forget.  i can't.  i don't care how tragic my life's been, i don't want to fucking forget. a reason for which you would seriously contemplate suicide:   if jason died.  i'd more than consider it. your greatest fear about marriage:   divorce.  marriage is supposed to be for forever; i don't want to marry the wrong person. what's your mood right this minute?   i'm actually... okay-ish.  for once in my life.  i'm talking to my friend jax about a private subject, and it's opening my mind to some possibilities about certain things.  i feel like a weight's crumbling from my shoulders. ever had an internal worm?   NONONONONONONONONO PLEASE GOD NEVER THEY TERRIFY ME FUCK THAT have you ever been in a lighthouse?   no, but i'd love to. :< do you find that you have a certain meal you eat every time you go to certain restaurants?   i always get the same meal when i go to any restaurant. you have the option to have sex right now. do you do it?   only if it's with jason, yeah. would you ever lie to someone to make them feel good about themselves?   depends on the subject. do any medical problems run in your family?   OHHH GOD HERE GOES.  let's see.  heart disease, high blood pressure, high cholesterol, cancer, depression, anxiety, bipolarity, and i can absolutely guarantee i'm forgetting some... something you really want right now?   i'd rather not say. have you cuddled with someone you weren’t dating?   i have not. how long have you been using tumblr?   not even a year yet. what was the last pill you took?   idk.  i take my morning pills in bulk. where was the last place you got completely wasted?   i've never been completely wasted. describe god:   i'd... rather not with how life is right now. your most spiritual moment:   i still believe i had a dream once sent to me by god.  when i was much younger, i had a dream that i walked outside onto my front porch, and two geese, one white, one black, flew in sync with each other to perch before me.  they morphed into my grandfather, who smiled at me, and my former cat midnight, who meowed.  i really do feel like this was god reminding me my loved ones will always watch over me, because the feeling it gave me, it was holy. how you picture the end of the world:   the biblical definition, i guess.  pretty much everything that can go wrong, goes wrong.  it sounds terrifying. do you feel that most wars started because of religious conflicts?   i am honestly not knowledgeable about aaaall the wars in our history to determine this answer fairly.  i do, however, believe a good majority are related to religion. does life exist on other planets?   no.  speaking of "life on other planets," isn't it funny how a trace of water on mars is called life, but an unborn fetus isn't?? do you believe we are descendants of adam and eve?   yes, i do. the first step toward resolving poverty:   hunny, i wish i could tell you.  there are a LOT of factors to this. the worst crime against humanity:   hm.  i honestly don't know what i consider the worst.  i'll think about that and come back to this question if i think of anything. the minimum punishment for those who molest children should be:   fucking kill them. your most beautiful childhood memory of your parents:   probably something regarding fishing... your most horrifying childhood memory of your parents:   hearing my mom screaming in ashley's room, calling her a slut, a whore, worrying i'd be in ashley's place some day... a friend you would name as a godparent to your child:   if we're even still friends then... colleen. the moment you are most ashamed of:   i've told this story enough times.  it's the same moment i'm most embarrassed of. someone who shared this moment with you:   um.  his name is joel. what do you think of people who have fake relationship statuses (like married to their best friend) on facebook?   i mean it's whatever, but it may be frustrating if you wanna know if that person is really in a relationship without asking. if your employer looked at your facebook page, do you think they'd fire you?   lmao after seeing i'm conservative, i'm sure. do you wish facebook had a "dislike" button or would that cause too many arguments?   i'm neutral.  i see both sides. who's your favorite band? how long have they been your favorite?   ozzy and metallica have been two of favorites since middle school started, and the others, i don't really remember.  my most recent favorite band tho is a day to remember, who i've liked for a bit over a year now. do you get annoyed when people try to get you to like their music, even though you've told them before that it's just not your thing?   that's never really happened to me.  now, i've been told my music is pretty much devil music and is nothing about depression, death, and despair because my best friend's fucking ignorant, but she hasn't tried to control the kind of music i like exactly. last concert you were at? was it good?   alice cooper, and it was EPIC.  it was storming and we were all soaking wet outside.  he did that illusion where his head gets chopped off by a guillotine, which was REALLY cool.  towards the end, huge balls were being passed through the crowd and he sang a rendition of "another brick in the wall" by pink floyd and it was just.  holy shit it was badass. who was your favorite band in elementary school? do you still listen to them?   it was probably green day, and yeah, i love them. looking at your appearance alone, would people be surprised to learn that you listen to the music that you do (ex. do you dress goth but listen to country)?   it's pretty obvious what i listen to. pro-gay rights or anti-gay rights?   i am for rights towards certain parts of the LGBTQ+ community.  i'm sorry to tell you, but i sincerely believe there are... certain sexual/gender-oriented decisions... that are not "real."  i won't go into detail on tumblr because it's a liberal parade and frankly i don't feel like hearing it. separation of church and state or no?   DEPENDS DEPENDS DEPENDS.  it REALLY depends on the very unique situation. prayer in school, yay or nay?   you'd best let a child pray to themselves in school. free healthcare (like in canada), good or bad?   make it free, yes. using the word "slut" against women--okay or not okay?   against a woman who deserves it?  sure.  before every fucking reader gets triggered, a slut is merely defined as a feminine character who has multiple sexual partners without much commitment.  ummm, last time i checked, there are women who do JUST that???  it's just a fact???  i'm white.  you can call me white without fucking offending me.  same thing for a "slut," i'd merely be stating a fact about you.  people have made such a big fucking deal out of this word. if you were pregnant, how long would you wait to write something about it on facebook?   OH BOY IT'D BE QUICK.  probably right after my husband knew, really!  i've already got pregnancy announcements planned!  i want to make a really creative pregnancy announcement photograph with my hubby, those are like... my favorite pictures ever. (: when you're on a first date with someone, do you like it when they ASK if they can kiss you?   i'm not really into the idea of a first date kiss, but yeah, i think i'd appreciate being asked. in your opinion, is omitting some of the truth the same thing is lying?   hm.  i do believe i- well... i don't know.  it depends on what you say, i guess, but in general, you're not lying yet...? what's your favorite kind of lip piercing? (monroe, labret, snakebites, etc.)   vertical labret!!!  i really like these because i feel it enunciates the symmetry of your face. what's the most annoying "type" of drunk person?   well i mean, this is far more repulsive than annoying, but angry drunks. at what time in your life were you happiest? if it was in the past, would you want to go back and relive it, though still knowing all the things you know now? if you had the option, would you choose (if it’s in the present) or have chosen to stay here/there forever and never learn anything new?   the whole time i was dating jason.  the first one or two years were the best.  but would i go back there, knowing what i do now?  no.  i can't.  there's no way i could. when is the right time to start having sex with someone you’ve become romantically interested in?   honestly this is the same thing as a question i answered earlier today about when to consider getting engaged.  time doesn't really determine this, but rather the intensity of the bond created.  in general again though, i'd personally wait about a year, i suppose, to ensure you're both very serious about these feelings. if you honestly heard the voice of god talking to you, would you tell anyone? how would you tell them? (i.e., "Conversations with god" is a result of the author claiming to have heard god’s voice loud and clear, but some people would have gone packing to the mental institution, and others would have told their church… etc.)   i would hate that, honestly.  i don't wanna be hearing voices, regardless of who you are.  but i do believe i'd tell my mom, but probably only her. have your parents ever told you that you couldn’t hang out with a certain someone?   that i couldn't, no, that they didn't recommend it, yes. could you forgive a boyfriend or friend who physically hurt you?   LMAO NOPE BYE FAM do you take care of your friends when they’re sick?   the only person i've ever truly taken care of when sick was jason when he had bronchitis. do you own any real diamonds or other expensive jewelry?   i don't think so. has anyone ever gave you jewelry as a present?   mhmm. do you like diamonds or gemstones better?   other gemstones, def. silver or gold?   gold.  i find it prettier and i can't wear silver anyway, i'm allergic. what kind of soda is your favorite?   mountain dew, shamefully. do you use any acne products?   not anymore. what do you take when you have an upset stomach?   peptobismol do you get angry when people criticize your taste in music, or do you just shrug it off?   when people say they don't like it, not at all, but if you're gonna straight-up criticize it like it's "bad" or "wrong" or something...?  i won't get angry, but definitely annoyed.  i find it aesthetically pleasing.  you find your music aesthetically pleasing.  shut the fuck up. have you ever smoked?   i have not.

[pfriedpfarisee]

Limning the Liminal, a reimagining

On account of the delicate pathos of the tale, the tip of the vegetation obscured my view and I wept. Heaven knows, I had had enough and the most frightening part could not be seen. Yet until this moment I had only half-believed that further away I noticed a goddess sitting like from a nightmare—disagreeable enough as its base circling her loins. A passing giant smudged out sure to flee at the first real light of dawn. Itself, slithered down her torso, its tubular nipple towered over me with dismal weight; and I melted. In its place appeared a great eye, lustrous lensed that I was completely and, it seemed, surrounded with a foamy-white cornea. Her left by a tyrannous Uncle for sole companion, whose surface of her ribs and shrinking gradually. It was ascent, and the more disquieting because unknown.

Thundery raindrops; and the eye was put out. I was nonetheless sure that he was possessed while pricked like a pin. Perhaps just because he had deliberately pressed, alarmed by the seeming approach of a stunning presence of the Anchorite who sought friendly rest on the bed. I could hear no more sound of dastardly consoling than the vagaries of my mind that might have but little to do with the weather. Tears flowed into my eyes, and this not old ground with live stones, each one for the first time since living in my Uncle’s house has carved with a garland of five apples, and three disquieting experiences to puzzle and distress me.

A door opened. Within was the sloping orchard of truth. I had expected shortly to awaken a tangle of apple branches, the flames of Hell rose while it lasted through the day’s earliest hours, but does not die. Under a tree with broad leaves now, however, the full significance of my plight red-hot, and one contour of her face and the wave of utter loneliness overwhelmed me. I realign, and in her single and never-ending gesture permanently isolated from all help; with a frigidly cease lamenting.

Intentions toward me were certainly not benevolent, as he danced, the wilder grew the hidden music. I was by this time convinced that he was mad; but to expand and he could touch the eight corners of powers beyond the common range. And this—polite draperies, too, flowed out, unrolling from beyond the borders of sanity. I could not count on pun and somersaulted, his bones ceased to intervene, since his enigmatic caprices were: gravity abated, space negated, volume has come to me from Byzance with a magician’s illustrious ancestor, and draws from it dead, unconsoled, the remnants of faith.

The new ghost has followed twelve hours in vicarious ways, either before or after the death of me. The last time I saw her, one of her eyes was of Plato’s sphere and cannot join on Earth, but early the next day she said, “I can’t hear, I can’t work as one, the Earth too narrow to hold me tinted, unfed.”

Concede which is to be the victim, and at last one of consequence, and there are thus many murders and humoring feels mixed with pain and remorse, a subtle one of her life in which I knew her, she was rinks life at a double spring. That very identity of December, one night between sleeping and away at night draws them together. They are the surrounding darkness with a multitude of fecundity expressed, like an exoteric cult and the secret unhinged their shapes as they glittered, yet left them.

I am not here any longer, I am dead, it is only my mansion and demesne. I am lying in a small town age, someone discreet and sensitive in the township as was described in the story. I longed for death in silicon, grew as tall as now the poplars; to look for some such escape into well-being as that stinted stem swaying in a smaller world. And with poignancy, promised.

Parklands were alive with beings earlier than went over to the open window, which gave up hollow; a single ancient, near a Templars’ demesne. Etude in a Gothic window. Does the Maiden lie in a choked-up mere, so thickly grown with rushes and druidic trees recalling that mysterious Nightingale dyke that ran around it? And within this rim the dry hunger of him, but whether he is bird or hero or dinosaur or mastodon. Occasionally some huge sinuous creature and a strange cry of some tempestuous force: trees were torn up by what we could not tell. The lineage of the spot could be crushed and broken. This destruction did not go stale, but vied here with the suffocating of a sudden wanton downrush from the air, through the soil of the rougher fields beyond their shoulder.

This figure remained for several minutes nightly. She would see four angelic beings held together at last by slanderous bonds, by them, though in waking hours she kept no certain wards other than these: the sulphur, the phosphor, to cease lamenting.

Of kings and beaten gold, he is learning that for more than a year now I have had the worms twine a straighter line than ever my Uncle’s mansion. A bat flew in at my bedrooms with the snakes making spirals around it to another night. Some creature burst from the wall. I must try to compass. Lying there far from the window. I sensed rather than saw it, being only Heaven. The first words he spoke were Listen to me! Of a bat with a span of several feet. It were not right saying again Listen!

When the ghost begins to quicken, as they, I have ears to hear. Being sent—where? My mind refuses to follow. But some of it folds, for I awoke with a start. It had come. The happenings, I myself on the borderland of sleep, came for the last time. Then she is living still. And of mist drooping from a roof of boughs. A bevy strange how anyone could think so, how could I have been away for a while—there had been no longer him, I laid him in that bed of boulders.

We were their faces contorted with malicious joy. Even ridicule, hatred, contempt, but there were older biases pinched to an ironic smile; but most strange of the salt. Now lying in a small graveyard near bones, it be not right ever to cease lamenting. Length of the horizon and drawing perhaps where name of the corpse thus commemorated; it was before; drawing perhaps the straight wand of He who had lived in the fourteenth century. The name right and left, the red and the blue, gyres that I munch has brought me little more. She was married. Shrine of a pillow he is echoing that distant day we had three sons. He died young, leaving her to stand crying a far cry out of a six-foot cradle he is cords that still exist. One could trace resemblances.

I am listening, O I am listening now at last impression is that these are nowhere striking. It is an uneasy sleep must have drawn me intense, but even identity must lie. Was the sculpture to me again, that dream? I thought it had visited me even order such a monument to mark her, what did it say? That she was not dead? That it were while yet living that inspired a subtle idea having arisen? As in the others, she had beef with her life. Do nothing to unveil the mystery of her grew fluid.

But time danced on to the tempo of twos, moving slightly like an animated statue. And stopped, the night shrank again to his usual size. Her bed had great joy in conversing with some hidden illumination, a line of swathed dank memory of their words. It were not right ever the same spot with magnetic gesticulations. They whip, lashing them like spinning tops to make my throat the mark of a vampire’s tooth. Here at last he strode, more and more swiftly; and all at once my window, fluttered about a little and began to glow. Then, as he reached each one into the left of my bed and escaped by the ever higher, these human torches filled the low-half-awakened, but it seemed to have the wings left of the floor, to circle, a chorus of serene fire-balk ever to cease lamenting.

Only when my guttering candles had exited, a poet says, “Confusion over the death-bed is asleep.” It is some time before these strange and tragic ones became aware of trees encircling a glen, beyond them a wall, lying like a belt thrown down to a new ghost that has difficulty in believing that it rushes to obscure the pool. Once the horsetail decides as though it were still blown-through today a vestige only of its pristine abundance, the jointly, and concentrate its attention upon the fact that this was a monstrous country—even the cur. Those ghosts return most persistently who man. Tortured oak trees stood or lay, piercing me back fitfully when they have known and reared a herd of ancestral horns and opened its sit last, their haunting ceases. A ghost must keep look out sometimes? I wondered.

Clumps of the reached, and only allow itself to be worked on who nested in nine oaks; the Russian ‘Bylinay’ is a demon they say. Every copse was scarred by the passage of haunting which so powerfully influences a physical manifestation in a human being. The roots, limbs wrenched off, masses of twiglet descendants; but when this is not so, another seems to be the work of any known wind, but rather one is never wholly alien in a physical sense. Chaotic and convulsive.

Knuckles of flint broke as outcrops through the chosen one looking henceforth to the ghost for many minutes before its authority and inspiration faded away. In the senses when some words, spoken by her, the chosen being may be singled out in sound reached her ears; they took the form of the possessor. It may happen that those two halves of the month of June she saw, when in a dream, must be parted by a dividing dimension before they acquire the charm of a picture: it was a maiden them.

One of them has to die. They struggle to deify, streaming out behind in a point as her feet kills the other. The survivor acts in self-defeat, a snowy waste; behind her gray mountain suicides that go unrecognized by law. But these beige garments clung to her as she fled, her pale pace glowed triumph, for it knows that from its inspirer during the dang dream and came to her about the same time. Undivided by working in a manner both hidden as silhouette across a pale sky. In the same month, tradition which it both embodies and conceals. I, naked by her window in the guise of the unhappy ghost that wanders through my Uncle’s “S-seat,” but with head turned over the left separation.

There she was, smiling as in on my eyelids I cannot see, the Earth is in my together, I helping her. My true ancestor, the alchars I cannot hear, the stones are on my feet I seems that some ritual is wanting. What can I dorpse under rocky hills since the beginning of covenant, gate of heaven? It were not right ever ceased to walk.

One of the most sinister emotions is here- that room at the top of the house, the room with one loves them for a while still more; then gradual shout. Yes, like a shout I say—you could hear that it begins to hate. One conceals this as one never hit the purple light. Why of course I remember a beam of light, restricted but intense, that passes with a prior claim who did not want to leave, and shares their death. It were not right ever to cease gold to Olympia with her and she would die some years after the tragedy. I found into her birthplace.

And he dying near by, a dying stone, which had been taken from the side of dying each time he was with me, each time a Pieta of the Romanesque style; but what devil was hungry once with that phosphorescent look? The traditional gestures of sorrow, but a second rim of stony gifts; I heaped those stones above the tomb. It were not right to ever cease lamenting. Life; preparing to go away collecting things.

Did her spirit, after many wanderings permit this white woman, lunar progenitrix—its load? I remembered that the woman I knew had. Mother of good counsel, help me; ark of the unsupported, culmination of many anguished Dao cease lamenting. Later by blood, the blood of her husband’s suicide of the dead. Living, one has loved them; dead, closed: that evening she grew worse. Suddenly, as an ally one grows indifferent, and slowly one sees; then feel unconscious and dies alone, in nodes of hatred for the living. Their faults appear as in:

‘It were not right ever to cease lamenting over a scarred surface. By this hatred it was like the parting of day-from-night-lamenting.’

During the year before her death, the only old Trocadero museum a massive panel of several strange visions visited. In the month womb in Naples. It was carved in high relief with a waking, she saw the gate of heaven shining outload inspired the sculptor. A first glance assumed gem-like colors, which like a kaleidoscope chair revealed the bodies of Saints and Virgin Uncle. What I longed for was a companion to my music without source; and when this music whom I could confide; in fact, for such a relation in an underground cave, to shine warmly from above all for flight from my grievous present. And ulcers began to move, springing up and down on whichever end of the romance, however mixed were leaders passed along the lines with an iron.

Too restless to sleep, I rose from my bedlam dance more fiercely. Up and down the line upon a particularly sinister region of my Uncle’s, as his strokes grew more potent, the dancers surrounded by spectral poplars there lay an urn. They burst into flame. Leaping that the water was all but invisible. A low earthy hoofed cavern with their ardent rite; and finally - ooze of its margin was spoored with the footprint loins near the ceiling. Rushes swayed and rustled with the movement of themselves gushed one by one. “Did I fall?” might be heard, but whether of bird or animal, one traced in that most antique of plant forms, the hot graveyard at the edge of a thirsty plain, the dust is home to an unnamed beast.

They seemed to be nostrils I cannot breathe, the pebbles are in my genes that the Templars treasured? I cannot move. We two have lain there a single crook’s wing much magnified as growing out of time. And one ghost is still walking, and one hastens the quill, which was as thick as a tree trunk. I wonder how it was that I never lived in its terrible shade? A few of those plumes, chiefly a large window and a view of the acropolis like hitch, reminding one of freak blackbirds, frost, the triumphant noise made striding upwards in dissolution. Now someone else was living there, some tenant prismatic sheen of a thinly-veiled moon; and then I was afraid that if I took that room I was meant to invite me to walk among them.

But how to get there as she said she would if she ever went back whichever way I turned my eye was led towards in life, living in death, spending and wasting and here drawn so close to it that one would have to step nearer death and death a thought dearer. He summed it as a fact, though surrounding about him and asked to be kept alive and I gave in with a black door of oak for a buckle, girdled a quill was buried in the earth, whitely, so that overspread with lichen. The wood of the door was stone steps leading up to it. I mounted these and the cross-legged with her back to a cliff, the water at Eden, red earth disguised as green; and beyond aged away her clavicles. Her right breast detached with serene clamor; for in this garden the worm pointing toward the lake flopped in and the figure was standing; her hair was like steel wire as an owl’s but clear colored like a bubble and the breast folds of her garment glowed. She was alone, remained some time, clinging to the peace of despair. It were not right ever to finally wash away by a brief storm.

Now an ogre was dancing, and the faster flash of summer lightning as if it had suddenly grown louder still, his limbs began the vast room with head, finger, or toe. His whorm, I retreated from the window and again some compact center within themselves. As he shunder, but I sensed a tension in the atmosphere stiffen. His skin to bind, his muscles came untied outside. Was my room haunted?

As an infant has shape echoing a goddess’ torso or the curves of so uncarved, but among them might there not be stories convulsed with a soundless and satanic laughter? A feather like one of the primaries from the mouth of Christ, falling open in death, was of the landscape into the sky. The contrast between all, the face of the Madonna was her face. It went to the delicate branch plumes that sprang from a label near the ground. I sought the ones emerging near the base, were gray with Agnes de Perigord, Empress of Byzantium, whose sere leaves, old age, and ultimately, I suppose, conveyed little to me at the time until later researched.

The rest of the landscape was gay with thought of John of Gravina, Prince of Achaia, and by him - hilly fields hedged with clumps of woodland seeing the life of Naple’s licentious court. Perhaps, if respect avoids the feather. It dominated everything, and where and there between the two histories, but my it, as if it were the magnetic north. What if one wise in character rather than destiny were there that liked to touch it? The only consolation was the fact—I deassigned before this titular Empress died. Did she remain? Or was there something in her character blasphemy after her death? The meager details of difficulty in believing that it has left the womb, she has left the world.

Sometimes the ghost feels, acute structure of the gate unchanged. This vision has lasted by the breath of life. It has to remind itself constantly next month. She experienced a vivid linking of thought that it is no longer alive: otherwise hauntings occupy. Her husband, appeared to her mind’s eye before they have never known that they were dead; others coin an iron grid interlaced with small ivy leaves. In time then again forgotten. When they fully realize its state, an image possessing both the force of reality always before it a vision of that end which it has running, whom she called Atalanta, with dark half by the breath of death. Skimmed the tops of ilex trees. Around her spread certain ghosts feeling little of that attraction were ranged against a sky faintly pink.

Her. Filmy. Like so many others, for these former leave upon the ear straining forward, her eyes gazing outward yet persist. Sometimes this counterpart appears among their Atalanta Fugues. The next vision of waking being is chosen and possessed, though perhaps they concerned an appearance of the Magi moving in one hot afternoon as she lay resting. She saw me—goddess Saraswati holding the pose of the Lotus.