#laure's looking a little thin

[snarkyelf]

Think he got the selfie right this time?

[old-schoolgenz]

So, been thinking about Mystreet again. And I always assumed in the early days that everything that happened in MCD would eventually happen in Mystreet as well. That didn't end up happening but just... bare with me for a sec.

Imagine for a second, what finding Lilith would be like in Mystreet. I think about that so, so often. And how SO much could have been talked about had it happened along with cannon events.

Aaron, who had been driving for hours after coming back from somewhere, a concert, or something equally modern and kinda boring. Aphmau half falling asleep in the passenger seat, starting and stopping songs that she'd sing under her breath. And Laurance dead asleep in the back, laying on his back without a seat belt, lightly snoring.

Then. Aphmau looks up, nearly screams because at that moment Aaron had glanced away from the road to ask her something.

"CAR!"

Aaron pounds the fucking break like it owes him money and Laurance is thrown into the back of their chairs like a ragdoll, and he yelps from the backseat as Aphmau tries not to fly through the windshield by gripping the console. Aaron's arm in front of her like it would do anything instead of break at her weight hitting it at the speed they were going (because Aaron has a lead foot and speeds like he's going through a mid-life crisis.)

And there's this flipped car in front of them, right in the middle of the road and A and A just look at each other like "Well what do we do?" And Laurance has been half- knocked out from the speed his face met the back of the drivers seat and he's groaning from the back in pain.

So they get out, minus Laur, and do the classic, look around to see wtf happened here. And there's broken glass and oil everywhere but the car is cold and had been there seemingly awhile.

And then they hear crying, coming from the ditch just below them, and Aphmau's the first one down it because of course she would be. And Aaron hears her gasp but he doesn't want to face-plant because the ditch is soaked and the ground keeps moving beneath him.

And he gets there and Aph is holding a fucking baby, like it just appeared out of thin air. And she's trying to calm it down while looking just as flabbergasted as he does. And his brain doesn't want to work because truly, what the actual fuck?

He looks around and there's a carseat that had been upside-down, but there's still no sign of the adults that actually crashed the damn thing and all that's in his head is "They wouldn't leave a baby right?" while thinking about his parents and doubling back like "Well they might." All the while there's little golden salamanders everywhere, and they're just as distracting as the crying.

So he wraps the little one in his red jacket and A and A climb back up the side of the ditch and Laurance is crouched down by the driver's window looking like he is about to hurl. And they meet eyes and Aaron winces because it's the look of someone who just saw a mangled corpse.

You get it right? Like the "dragons found a baby and tried to capture a cow to feed it" is just WEIRD, and only fits within the weird lore of MCD. If you wanna do it in Mystreet it has to become way fucking darker, they'd have to call 911 and watch as corpses get dragged out of the car and follow them to the hospital.

And then the baby would have to get a checkup, and that trio is just there. At the hospital, and shit sucks because that's way more traumatic then just "finding a baby." It's "I found a gruesome accident and a baby that just lost it's parents." Furthermore. Aaron and Aphmau would be, at this point. Just freinds if we're following the MCD route. And they would struggle heavily with the whole orphanage/foster care system because they're unmarried and unrelated to the baby.

I don't know, I just kinda wish I could've seen that. So much character development, so much angst. I might write it properly some day just to get it out of my thought rotation.

[fearsome-series]

BOOK ONE

Chapter One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nin

The creature and the wolfman were fighting.

The creature was an old friend to Laura - a companion when she was bored and in a car going through some place in the middle of nowhere with poor reception; sometimes a black dog, sometimes a blue fleshy dog-lizard thing, always fast, always a good distraction from the tree, tree, field, farm, cow, cow, field, tree, cow cycle of rural travel. Or at least he was; her mind’s eye was a bit too crowded now. A bit too concerned about the world and everything to fall for the old trick of rotating a monster in her mind.

The wolfman was new and snarling, paw raised, claws out, frozen in wood - a sculpture in someone’s front yard. The paw looked less like a threat and more like he was waving. Laura stared into its dark wooden eyes for a moment, as the imaginary car-running-creature that once kept her mind so occupied faded out into fuzz. When her parents started driving again, she waved back.

-------------------------------------------------

FEARSOME

#1: The Beast

Chapter One

She woke up when they got to the house - two stories, painted a so-very-respectable white, with a metal shed off in the backyard, towards the treeline - and somehow her feet took her up the front steps and through the clean kitchen and up the steps to her room, but she didn’t have any part in that, near as she could tell. Next she knew, she was upstairs.

Laura paced around her room for the weekend, the life drained from her bones. The hours of travel felt like years, felt like a whole lifetime passing by and whittling her away to just a skeleton and then, at last, skeleton dust. Bone dust. She sighed. This place sucked. It was too nice. No one lived here, but that no one wanted too hard for it to feel like someone lived there, you know? Laura looked out the little window, like a zoo animal looking out between the bars; but instead of seeing goofy faces goggling back at her, she saw all the sights of a rental home in the country: trees, grass, some tiny bird. Excitement. She flopped her messenger bag onto the bed and walked downstairs.

Her father, Chris, stood by the fridge, his face scrunched up as he considered the shelves inside, his thin mustache jumping to attention.

“Where’s mom?” Laura asked.

“In town,” Chris said.

“Which town?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “One of the good ones. You hungry?”

“Kinda.”

“Hi hungry, I’m...hungry too.” He waved at the empty fridge. “Ad said they’d leave it stocked for us. But it’s empty. Bit dirty, too. Heather’s getting a pizza and a few groceries.”

“So we’re, uh, swimming tomorrow, right?”

“We’re going to the lake, but we don’t have to swim if you don’t want to.”

“I know how to swim, dad.” She was nervous, largely on account of being trans at a beach out of the city, and…no, mainly on that account.

“I know you know, but I don’t know if you don’t want to.”

“Uh…”

“We aren’t gonna make you swim.”

“Thanks, but I’m going to try. ‘cause why not try?”

“Laur, you don’t have to try things just to try things. There’s lots of things you shouldn’t try.”

“Yeah, but. Life is short and all that.”

“Laur, you’re fifteen.”

“So I should try things when I’m young and dumb enough to do them.”

“Laur, if all your friends were going to do a daring daredevil jump over the Grand Canyon, would you do it?”

“Yeah? That sounds really cool.”

“It does, yeah. But you don’t have to try things that won’t make your friends think you’re fun and cool.”

“But I should do things that make them think I’m fun and cool.”

“Depends on the thing.”

“Pretending to like bands.”

“Never.”

“Big complicated heists at, like, a Vegas casino.”

“Not ‘til after college.”

“Swimming.”

“Only if you want to.”

“And I…and I think I want to. I want to. I want to go swimming tomorrow,” Laura said.

-------------------------------------------------

Dinner was a stuffed deep dish pizza from somewhere called Rosati’s; veggie, as always (though when it came to pizzas without meat, her favorite was the mac-and-cheese pizza at this one place back home) – Laura picked off some of the green peppers before biting in.

“...so we’ll leave for the beach around 10 tomorrow,” her mom, Heather, said.

“Last weekend of the season,” dad added.

Heather carefully wiped off her greasy hands on a napkin. “Laura, was there anything you wanted to do this weekend?”

She dropped a chunk of pepper. “I...oh. Uh, I don’t really know what’s around here. We could like, go out in the woods or something.”

“I’m not sure we can go back there,” mom said. “But we could go hiking at Big Foot Beach.”

“Yeah. Better than the woods anyway,” dad added.

“You want me to get back to nature, though,” Laura said.

“Nature can be pretty ugly, y’know. Lots of ticks.”

“How do you know there’s not ticks in here? And mosquitoes and, like, spiders.”

“Spiders are good, Laur. They eat all the ticks.”

“Oh, I just remembered, on Sunday we were going to Big Foot Beach, weren’t we?” Mom said.

“Think so.”

“Tomorrow afternoon we have that boat tour, and we’ll have dinner somewhere local…”

“Weren’t we going to that place by the lake? Popeye’s?”

“That was for lunch.”

“The…chicken store?” Laura asked.

“No, they have their own Popeye’s. It’s by the lake.”

“And they don’t have chicken.”

“No. Though now that I think about it, are they vegetarian? Looked like a bunch of fish.”

“We can eat fish, we’re on vacation,” mom said.

“No vacation for the fish.”

“Fish aren’t…”

“Animals?”

“They’re…”

“...down there in the water and when we bring them up into the sun they don’t know what’s going on. They don’t know who’s plucking them out of the world. A chicken at least stares their murderer in the eye first.”

Mom laughed. “How big is this chicken?”

“Yeah, cool,” Laura tore off a piece of her pizza and tossed it in her mouth. In her pocket, her phone buzzed. “Uh...I have to run to the bathroom, be right back.”

She hurried up there. Closed the door. Checked what her friend said…

PUZZLE KEY CHALLENGE: DOUBLE GEM HOUR STARTS NOW!

She sighed. Went back downstairs.

In the living room, their dog, Laika, a Newfoundland, was looking out the window, having taken over the sofa here like she always did at home. “What are you looking at?” The dog looked back at her. Tilted her head. “I don’t speak dog. I don’t know what look and tilt means.” She crawled onto the sofa. Looked out the window. Nothing, but -

Laika barked. Right by her right ear. “Laika!” She jumped off, ducked into the dining room. “Hey, Laika seems kinda…” Kinda...kinda...kinda…

“Restless?” Her dad suggested.

“Yeah! I was thinking I could take her outside.”

“Okay, but be back in before it gets dark. And don’t go into the trees.”

“What if she really wants to go into the trees and she’s too strong for me and she takes me along with her? Into the trees?”

“Well, just try not to let the trees claim you, y’know? Put in a good effort.”

“Thanks,” she said, rushing to grab Laika’s leash and step outside.

It was quiet. Laura normally walked Laika in the city, so walking her when there was nothing around was...weird. It was weird. Laika tugged towards the backyard, and Laura spun around and followed her. Back there, there was only a shed (locked with a padlock), grass, and...the trees. It was sunset, and the shed was bathed in the evening rays of orange, the last little fragment of the day before the coming of night.

“Don’t take me beyond the trees. Something’s gonna happen if I go beyond the trees.”

Laika sat down in the grass. Fixed her gaze on the treeline.

“Do you see anything? Anything? Do you see a tick? Do you see a tick crawling up my leg? Do you see a tick crawling up my leg and biting me and giving me Lyme Disease? Do you?”

Laika barked.

“Is there...a dog or something? Big dog, small dog?”

Bark, bark, BARK.

And Laika turned around and tugged back towards the house; Laura seized the leash with her other hand and held on tight as she raced back up the stairs. “Laika! You aren’t even going to pee?”

Laika scratched at the door; Laura freed up one hand and opened it. The dog raced back inside; Laura staggered back to the dining room, picked off some more green pepper chunks, and ate some more pizza.

-------------------------------------------------

Bottom left, bottom right, top left, top right. Dark.

Top right. Light.

Behind the shed. Watch. Watch the light.

-------------------------------------------------

Laura ran her hands down her face. Groaned a bit. Still couldn’t sleep. She grabbed her phone off the stack of things she’d left on the floor; she opened her texts. Considered sending a message to Manuel (last message 5:41 PM, Friday) or Summer (last message 7:22 PM, Thursday). Checked the time. 1:04 AM. Yikes. Then she saw the battery. 12%. Forgot to charge it again. Before she forgot, again, she quickly put it on the charger on the one free outlet across the room

She sighed. Rifled through the closet. There were some magazines stacked on a box. Vogue, The Atlantic, The Economist. Boring bullshit. Buried underneath them all, she found a magazine called Fangoria with a vampire lady on the front. BARBARA CRAMPTON BRINGS JAKOB’S WIFE TO BLOODY LIFE.

She paged through it. Past photos of a cyclopean alien with exposed brains and a vampire woman with two long front fangs and a bloody face. And…

She set the magazine down. She’d left the blinds open. She’d left the blinds open and she left the window open. Okay, it was the second floor, who cares? But for one second, she thought she heard...something. Something like...a dog. A growl. Laika?

She got up. Looked out the window.

Nothing but some trees.

Alright, stop scaring yourself and get to sleep, she thought. She tossed aside the magazine, and thirty seconds later, was lights out.

-------------------------------------------------

“You okay down there?”

“Yes, dad,” said Laura, not okay; it was a sunny late summer day, one of the last good days of the season dontcha know, and all around Laura people were going for a swim, going out on boats, playing in the sand. The beach wasn’t that big, and had trees on one side; at the far end was a large brown building with a reddish tile roof.

“We’ll be right back, Laur,” mom said, “stay right here, okay?”

“Okay? Okay. Yeah.”

Good for them, she thought, but she was stuck sitting on this little blanket on the sand and looking at everyone else having a good time around her. Once her parents were gone, she picked up her phone. 

Navigated her contacts.

DAD

MANUEL

MOM

SUMMER

SUMMER’S GF

Are you on the beach yet? :)

          SO BORED

So you are at the beach then

          Did anything happen here

          Anything

          You know every dark secret of every town here

          Are there any here

Well Dungeons & Dragons was invented there

          That’s not a dark secret

It was if you were one of those people convinced the devil invented it in the 80s

          But I mean a dark dark secret

          A unsolved murder

          Cultic rites

          Idk people going missing

Gangsters used to go there in the 1920s!

Baby Face Nelson was seen there the day he died

          Wow

          He died here?

Oh no, he was seen there. He died later on in Illinois

          So you’ve got nothing

Nope :( Sorry

          Don’t be

          What are YOU up to

          Hanging out with Cameron

I actually haven’t heard from him in a few days.

          With Emily

We don't hang out outside school and she is with Alice anyway

           Is Alice that like

           Country chick with the jacket

           Who was weird to me

           outside of queer club once

           Why the hell do they hang out???

I don't get it either

I'm up to nothing! I am just inside today

It does seem nice out but I do not know if it’s the type of warm that feels uncomfortable

           100% is

           Stay inside

           Save yourself!

Her parents still weren’t back. She looked around. Looked for anyone who was looking at her. They all would, wouldn’t they? Snooty people from the suburbs and wherever the hell else, they didn’t want her on the beach. She could almost see them - that lounging woman, shooting a glare up from her book, the two boys making a sand castle pointing, laughing…

She quickly texted Summer.

          Do you ever go swimming

Yeah?

          In public

Hell no

          My parents took me to a beach ����

          Since it’s ‘the last day of the season’

          “You can swim” YEAH AND NO

Did you tell em you won’t

          No?

See that’s like

The first thing you do

Is tell them how you feel

          Why do I have to TELL people things

          Can’t they just figure it out

          Piece together the vibes

They can’t like

Smell your damn emotions

You’ve gotta use your words

          No

“Laura?”

Heather and Christian circled around a woman on a blanket reading a James Patterson book; Christian knelt down on the blanket and looked her over.

“You don’t wanna go out on the lake, huh?”

“...not really,” she said. “I don’t…I don’t feel comfortable swimming. Or, like, being around everyone, you know?”

“Alright, kid,” Chris said. “How about we go for a walk along the shore?”

They picked up the blanket and walked off.

-------------------------------------------------

Laura hadn’t been to the group before, not in freshman year, but she decided to check out the first one of this year because…why not? Manuel was trans, and so was Summer, and Summer’s girlfriend…Claire?...was gay, so maybe they’d go with her.

They did not, and Laura spent the group kinda just sitting there, not saying much, though a lot of people were there and not saying much. Some of the people in her school’s queer group had more problems, after all, like not being supported at home instead of just not being supported by society as a whole. Laura said her name, her pronouns, then kinda…looked at people, ‘til the group ended.

Outside of the LGBT group, in the hallway up front by the doors and first cafeteria, the one with the big windows looking out, and knowing her dad wouldn’t be by for a while, she picked out someone to shuffle up and say hi to: someone with short-cut green hair and a old, dark blue Air Force jacket covered in buttons, about which she knew, uh, that they were Steph, they/them.

“Hi…?” Laura said.

“Uh, hi,” Steph said, sliding their phone in their jacket’s pockets. “You’re…”

“Laura.”

“Laura.”

“What do you think you’re doing?” Alice asked, walking down the stairs; she was tall and lanky, white with tanned skin and scuffed boots, a red jacket, light brown hair with neatly-trimmed bangs and a cross necklace bouncing around her neck.

“Why do you care?” Steph replied.

“You can’t be around them!” Alice pointed at Laura. “Stop thinking you can.”

“I can be around whoever I want.”

“Well, you can do what you like, but you have to know you can’t change what you are. Or…can’t change when the time will come!”

“What, like, the Rapture or something?” Laura laughed. “Hey, Alice, you should-”

“No! I mean - Steph, you know what I mean.”

“Gotta go, Lyra,” Steph said. “Maybe I’ll see you next time.”

“Yeah. It’s…it’s Laura…” Laura said, watching them leave. “Oh, and uh, how about you…how about you…” She couldn’t remember the comeback she thought up late. Nice.

-------------------------------------------------

Wind howled, tree branches raking the roof like shrill claws. Laura wasn’t listening too closely: for she was engaged in a higher task - finding a spot where she could use her phone. It’d been fine earlier, but right after she got back, the signal died.

Sitting on her chair, no. Standing on it, no. Bed, no. Desk, no. Sitting on the desk and leaning back over the perilous void?

One bar.

She frantically texted her friends.

          SO BORED, WTF DO I DO

Manuel replied immediately.

What’s going on? Are you still at the beach? Is Laika being good??? Pet her for me!

Laura texted back. Sent. Couldn’t send. No service. Fine! She pounded the desk in rage, leaned back more. Waved her phone in search of even one -

Tumbled into the abyss. Oof. Her phone bounced off the floorboards next to her. She snatched it up cleanly...a second after it hit a second time and came to a halt. No damage. No bars, but no damage.

“You okay in there?” Her father called out from the doorway.

“No, I’m dead.” She kept lying in the space between the desk and chair.

“Ahuh. Doing a lot of breathing for a dead woman.”

“That can happen sometimes.” For lack of any other ideas, Laura just laid there a while.

“Well, at least you’re having fun. D’you want a book?”

“I guess.”

“I’d like to find a book too. I didn’t bring any and the guy who owns the place must’ve bought all the books for show.”

“They’re fake?”

“No, just boring. Unless you want to read a buncha car repair manuals and a…” He held up a thick tome. “...complete history of concrete.”

“No?”

“Ahuh.” Her dad walked back to the main room. As the door swung shut, she heard barks and radio static filtering from downstairs. Might as well join them, Laura thought, reluctantly coming to life.

-------------------------------------------------

A scratchy classical track ended, and then -

“Is it for your…?” Mom asked; dad shushed.

“This Sunday on All That We Know,” said the woman who announced the show dad produced, “we talk with…”

“Someone not sad?” Laura whispered.

“...an embedded reporter about war crimes in Ukraine. Also, a team who believed they had the cure for cancer - before it all came crashing down. This Sunday on All That We Know, from NPR and Wisconsin Public Radio.”

“Dad,” Laura asked. “Do you ever have any not-depressing news on your show?”

“Laur, there hasn’t been any not-depressing news since Clinton was President. You know that.”

“Yeah…but also…”

“You used to interview tech people a lot,” mom said.

“Yeah. Guys who had the solution to all the world’s problems.”

“Wasn’t the solution always cryptocurrency?”

“Nope, sometimes it was NFTs or the metaverse.”

Heather switched off the radio. Laura glanced around the home: Chris was focusing intently on a book with no jacket, Heather was just generally pacing, and Laika was being her usual lazy self on the floor.

Laura knelt by the dog and pet her head. “That’s from Manuel.”

Laika pressed on with her aimless flopping.

Laura sat crisscross on a table. Uncomfortable, but she knew she could text here; she shot one to Summer. 

Bored.

          KINDA DISTRACTED SORRY

WITH WHAT?

          I’M UH PLAYING VIDEO GAMES

YOU PUT THE UH IN A TEXT

NO ONE DOES THAT

WHY ARE WE IN CAPS ANYWAY

          I’M PLAYING ELDER RING

          THE DAMN

          SLEAZE TROLL SHOWED UP WHEN I CROSSED THE NETHER FJORD

          OR WHATEVER TF

          OKAY LATER BYE!!!

ELDEN

IT’S ELDEN

No reply.

Shit.

“How is there no service here? There was before we left.” Laura asked.

“Someone breathed on the tower funny,” Chris replied.

“Maybe it’s a good thing,” Heather said. “For us to disconnect, get away from the screens. Don’t you think so?”

Laura noticed her dad’s book. “You found a book.”

“Yep, it’s great, this page I’ve been on for the last five minutes is really interesting.”

Heather looked at its nameless cover. “What’s it about?”

Chris looked up from his book and scowled. “...I don’t remember.”

Laika barked. Laura jumped.

“Think she’s bored?” Chris asked no one.

“Can I take her for a walk?” Laura asked.

“I heard there’s going to be a storm in an hour.” Heather said.

“What dog walk takes an hour? Laika doesn’t even chase squirrels. Or bears, or wolves.”

“Don’t have to worry about bears or wolves down here,” Christian said.

“If you want to walk her, alright, but stay close,” Heather answered.

“Where would we go? We’ll be fine, mom.”

-------------------------------------------------

“Do you think I could take a bear?”

Laika barked.

“You just have to make yourself look big, right? ...you’re probably bigger than I am. God.”

Laika growled gently.

“I should’ve told mom and dad I wasn’t up for swimming. Like, before they booked a lake house. …twenty minutes from the lake. But I don’t want to do nothing ‘cause I’m afraid of doing it because of being trans, y’know? …no you don’t, you’re a dog. You don’t have genders. Or do you have dog gender? What are those -”

Laika tugged forcefully on the leash.

Laura finally broke from her rambling and realized that she was surrounded by trees; she looked over her shoulder and could see the home well obscured by branches.

“Laikaaaa! Laika! Stop dragging me into the woods. Stop dragging me into the woods! I know I wanted to go, but now I don’t want to go!”

Laika stared at Laura, tilted her head, and yanked Laura forward again, barking.

“Keep me away from bears, okay? Wait, there are no bears.Don’t go near people. Def people.”

Laika led Laura through a thick bramble of branches - Laika stepping confidently, Laura contorting her way through. The trees seemed too thick; like, on the ride over it was mostly farmland and fields, not these dense forests. It confused Laura, but she only became more confused when they rounded past a big, old, gnarled tree and its thick skeleton of roots into a clearing.

In it was a house - like one of those old Victorian things she’d seen on a school trip to the Mississippi, back from when three stories was a mansion. The fence had broken into rotten chunks of wood, and the path was overgrown with weeds and grass, with only an occasional fragment of stone showing from between the green.

“Uh, I said keep me away from people.”

Laura spun around and tugged on Laika’s leash, but the dog wouldn’t budge, and Laura gave up and let herself be walked right into the house.

The entry area and living room were long stripped of anything useful or decorative, and now it was just full of peeled wallpaper and beer cans Laika pushed through like she was cutting through ice. Graffiti and dust, cans and cigarette stubs. The remains of parties past -

She tripped. Laura glanced down. A crusty boom box, with a cassette whose faded label said TOM’S MIXTAPE 1 - 14 - ‘89. The remains of parties long past.

“Laika, why are you trying to give me tet...tetno...tinnitus?”

She stepped over a discarded bag and to a half-open door. A door with slash marks. A door with slash marks cutting all the way through. Laika nosed it open.

“Laika!” Laura tugged on her leash again. “Laika, back! Now!”

The door swung open.

“What?”

-------------------------------------------------

An altar stood before a stone pillar. Carved faces: a woman, a man with the sun behind his head, a man with the moon, and a man whose face was split in four. She looked at the altar: spent candles and dead purple flowers, and a scroll. Laura picked it up - you’re gonna get diseases, she cursed to herself - and while she didn’t know much about any language but English, she knew enough to know this was no language she’d ever seen.

Laura threw it down. Tugged on Laika’s leash with all the strength she could manage. “Out! Out!” She pushed her feet towards the door. “Out!”

Laika barked, and Laura heard a growl in the house outside. Now Laika pushed, pushed with more strength than she could ever imagine possessing, pushed at the edge of escape, and Laura pulled, tried to pull the enormous dog away, tried to -

Laika ran off into the party room, barking. Something growled back. Laura didn’t know what to do. She sprinted out of the room, slammed the door behind her. A growl. Footsteps. Laura’s own feet raced away from the noise - down the hall to a kitchen, with shattered plates and flies buzzing over unknown trash, and found a window. Tried to open it, footsteps in the hall, felt it lift off the frame, pushed it up, a blast of cool air, she jumped, crawled through, into -

She hit the ground. Jumped to her feet. Ran into the woods until she couldn’t see the house anymore. It was night and Laika was gone. It was dark and Laura was lost and she was all alone.

Laura slowed down, carefully stepped over roots and fallen branches, using her phone to illuminate the way. All it was good for out here. The only other light was what light of the moon shone through the canopy of dark branches.The canopy that was way too thick.

She listened for Laika, but did not call for her. Not this far out, not alone. She heard barks sometimes, but from different angles. Other than that? Dead quiet. No bugs, no snapping twigs, just…quiet.

Laura caught her breath against an old white ash. Huff, huff, huff. She slunk down to the dirt. Oh, God, she thought. I’m lost. I’m actually lost.

She picked up her phone again, and it's pale beam of light swept over a hole in the dirt. Laura swung it back. Under the tree was a paw print. Not a bear, or a wolf’s. Bigger. Laura placed her hand in the depression - it barely filled half of it. Four clawed toes, long, but oddly familiar.

-------------------------------------------------

Through the trees, Laura could now see distant lights: cars and trucks from some nearby highway. Laura wanted to run for it. Run for the road and for anyone and call out for help.

Buzz.

Her phone! Someone was calling her! She pulled it up. Mom.

“Laura, where are you!?”

“Mom! I-”

Low battery. Disconnected. Before it died, she saw her missed calls: mom, dad, unknown?

“Shit. Shit. Shit…” Black. Everything dark but the moon and a flurry of far-away vehicles. She stomped the earth. “Shit!”

Grrrrrurrrrr. A low growl. The same low growl. She knew a bear - were there bears? - is more afraid of you than you are of them. Not possible, she thought, but maybe it’ll get bored.

Stay. Still. Don’t move. Don’t shake. Don’t run. Still, still, stillllll -

Nothing.

She ran. Ran for the lights between the trees. Came to a wide open farmer’s field. Pushed her way through rows of swaying corn stalks.

Soon she could make out a shape ahead of her, between the stalks. A man’s shape. She wanted to run over and say ‘help me’. She wanted to hide behind a tree, wanted to run away, to scream, to do nothing. A man alone in the middle of nowhere was scarier than any bear. She weighed her fear, her exhaustion.

Exhaustion won. She followed the man.

“I’m lost, uh, hey, can you -”

The man turned around, revealing a face. A horrible, horrible face, a face that seemed wrong. Pointed, human, too-human and inhuman and crisscrossed with scars and dark grey hairs, staring with narrow yellow eyes, its jaw opened, teeth, sharp teeth shining in the moonlight -

Grrrrurrrrr!

“What the hell!?” Laura leapt back, turned, started to run.

She charged through the corn, stumbled over clumps of dirt, was cut by leaves. Growls became a roar, and forceful swipes snapped stalks into pieces. Closer and closer, louder and louder -

Something powerful tried to grab her leg. She slipped free, but fell forward. Hit the ground hard. Pain cascaded through her side. Her legs screamed, refused to lift again, streaked with red.

No one will even know, she thought. They’ll take weeks to find her. Months, years, never. Mom and dad and Manuel and Summer will never know.

Laura closed her eyes tight. No more steps, no snapping stalks, no growls. But she knew it was over her. Thinking. The night was still, drained of all life. It was worse than the noise.

A bark. The creature howled back into the darkness, and Laura felt sharp teeth sink into her shoulder, and a deeper darkness descended.

[forfoxessake]

JUNE (2023) - movies

Lady Chatterley’s Lover (2022)   Directed by Laure de Clermont-Tonnerre

Emma Corrin -  Jack O’Connell

 It's been a while since I read this and I get the impression that they made some different choices in regard to a few characters (the nanny/maid) that I didn't dislike. It's not a groundbreaking film, it feels more romantic than the book sets out to be but overall they do a good job. Emma Corrin's is so thin that it honestly bothered me a little.

Ammonite (2020)   Directed by Francis Lee

Kate Winslet -  Saoirse Ronan

There have been better lesbian films in recent years, and this is so small and quiet that it pales in comparison. But something, in the end, made it stand out. There's a scene where we are led to believe they will get a happy ending when suddenly the mood shifts and we see Kate Winslet's character for who she is, Mary is not only misunderstood because she is gay in a time where women had no autonomy, she is a person who has never felt seen - by the society and by the people who she loves. And that's a painful note to end at.

The Banshees of Inisherin (2022)  Directed by Martin McDonagh

Colin Farrell -  Brendan Gleeson -  Brendan Gleeson -  Kerry Condon

I was asking myself why was everyone so obsessed with this movie about two old dudes, a donkey, and a tiny island. It did not prepare me for how WILD this is.

Willow (1988)  Directed by Ron Howard

Warwick Davis -  Val Kilmer

I named my first dog when I was 4 after this movie - It was actually Billy Willow after much insistence from my mother. But 30 years later I barely remember what this was about and I thought it was time to revisit this after the release of the follow-up series. It's better than I expected but still very much a movie from its time. The old woman fighting hardcore scene is still very unique and a badass thing to have in a fantasy film.

Hannah Gadsby: Douglas (2020)  Directed by Madeleine Parry

Hannah is genuinely funny but never more so when she is going on about art grievances. Best use of a college art degree ever.

Bodies Bodies Bodies (2022)  Directed by Halina Reijn

Amandla Stenberg - Lee Pace -  Maria Bakalova -  Rachel Sennott -  Pete Davidson

The sort of movie we all need sometimes, dumb teenagers being extra dumb together alone on a spooky evening. Extra points for a super cool ending.

Cha Cha Real Smooth (2022)  Directed by Cooper Raiff

  Cooper Raiff - Dakota Johnson -  Leslie Mann

A cute quiet movie, exactly that moment in time when you feel like you don't know where you are or where you are going, and want to find the answers to life in someone else, but that is not the way to fix anything, and this movie does a great service is showing us that we are just afraid.

Selena Gomez: My Mind & Me (2022)  Directed by Alek Keshishian

 Being open about your fears and health issues, be they mental or physical, it's in my opinion, the bravest thing a famous person can do.

Kiki’s Delivery Service (1989)  Directed by Hayao Miyazaki

I never really got the overall fascination with studio ghibli until I saw this. Kiki's is the perfect movie, it makes you feel warm inside and look at yourself and your adventures in a whole new way. I get it now.

Shotgun Wedding (2022) -  Directed by Jason Moore

Jennifer Lopez -  Josh Duhamel -  Jennifer Coolidge -  Lenny Kravitz

Sometimes all you need is a silly action-packed fun movie where nothing makes sense but you love every minute of it anyway.

[justkeepdancing-nemo]

undefined

laur’s 2022 rp questionnaire! 

the video was an intrusive thought i had.

Your Name: laur

Characters: Berlioz, Hades, Merida, Ashleigh, Nemo, Jun, Olaf, Pip, Amity, Snow, John, Michael 

Pick one of your characters and talk about their growth (we recommend choosing an older character, but it’s up to you!) What about their story has surprised you? What are you proud of? How have they changed from their original inception to now?

Last year I wrote Amity for the following question which means now I can write about her for THIS question. Did I succeed in taking Amity where I wanted to take her?? 

Absolutely! 

It was a long time coming, but Amity has broken free from the Blights! She had done what I always intended for her to do: fail, and fail hard, and in spectacular fashion, the kind of heart-breaking, soul-crushing failure that I’m sure every former gifted child is shuddering to think about. I should know; I am one of them.

That kind of failure was very important to me because of the next stage of her journey, where she gets to build herself back up from nothing. What’s surprising so far– it probably shouldn’t be tho, lol– is how haaaaaaaaaaaard that’s going to be. Like, I knew it was going to be hard, but I wanted to make her a ward for the RAS in part to show her that adults can be trusted. However, that part didn’t pan out the way I thought, and y’know, Amity is valid for that. Right now, she very much believes they can’t be. She trusts Riley most of all, and she trusts Mim. And that’s… the entire list. Even Marlin is on thin ice, but she believes she’s safe as long as Mim is looking out for her. 

So yeah, she’s definitely still searching for her purpose. I have lots of ideas for her and the fact we have Grand Prix stuff– and Lilith– means there are lots of interesting ways Amity can go from here! 

Pick another character (or the same character if you only have one) and talk a little about where you WANT them to go. What are your plans for them going into the new year? 

I’ll talk about Snow, briefly (I hope). Year One of a character for me is always very foundational. Im trying to build relationships and that usually means not a lot of like, plotty plot stuff gets done. And hey, i did that! Snow’s got lots of great relationships and she’s established in town, which means that in the coming year, i can maybe kick off some more ‘intentional’ moves with her, both big and small. 

Small Plots: 

-i’d like to do more small-scale necromancy stuff, helping some vamps or doing some medium stuff! I should hook Snow up with Elliot maybe and get that cracking. 

-i’d like to so more small-scale interior design and hotel stuff! Teased this for a task a while back but i want Snow to do some freelance interior design bc i think its neat. And I want to tie both this and the above mediumship thing in because i love the idea of like, redecorating a space as a way to help a restless soul move on. Its got that thematic resonance that i think is true for anyone who has ever felt like a new person after u go thru ur stuff and do a lil make over. 

Big Plots: 

-Big necromancy stuff, which in this case mostly means telling ppl who dont know that she’s a necromancer or that coming into like, actual relevance. I don’t know how yet but im def open to some cool ass spooky yucky death shit lets get it

-Family and Snow’s Past: she hasn’t talked to her parents for a year now. Would love to poke that and maybe have her parents call her. Also, it’s in my mind to have Estella, the woman accused of killing Snow, do a retrial and Snow being implicated in that. 

Pick a thread or a plot that you’re proud of and talk about why you loved it. 

Like always i really have so many. I love a lot of my plots!! 

Amity Demon Prom Arc: obviously this gets a shoutout as it is the biggest plot thing i did this year in terms of affecting the entire rp lol. I was definitely nervous going into it…id done big plots before, but those felt shared among my partners in a way that this didn’t. Amity was def the star, I guess I’m saying– it was her actions and no one else’s, as opposed to helle doing something or the order fall out etc. SO YEAH i was worried about it and felt burdensome asking people to do paras about it, which i know is silly, but IN THE END it worked out! I loved the build up with the blights and also amity’s lil circle– mainly mim and riley. Writing Amimity taking on Ashmedai was super epic and Lins did such a great job writing that action with me. And ofc, all the aftermath which was wrought with emotion and i got to play a completely broken amity but also a strong amity like even though her life was in ruins she stood up to Odalia…ugh. It’s what I envisioned for her from the start. I’m so happy with how it turned out. 

Piplo Surprise Thread: Throwing this one on here bc yeah i know. I know ive done a similar plot before. But i frankly never get tired of turning animals into humans. I think its funny. And this thread WAS funny and also tense and emotional and milo has arrived AT THE PERFECT TIME for pip’s general arc! He like, needs someone like Milo– a confidante who knows about Boba and is endlessly loyal lmfao. Or else can u imagine how much worse he’d be. 

Random Phinnip Discord Moments: shouting this out bc what i like about it is that emma and i never say to each other what if phinnip are weird and fight in this discord event…they just do that on their own. But yeah got lots of iconic fight moments like pip and phineas doing that weird five dollar quid bet, or pip exposing his nyu drama and also phineas running off to taco bell together… its all very improvised and frankly that kind of fun improv rping has been a huge joy for me this year. 

F.R.O.G. Heist: another silly thread. I just love silly threads can i get EVEN MORE SILLY THREADS. But yeah this was an amazing thread with Drakken and Mim, such an oddball trio and I miss them!! I love this thread because it honestly just has everything: action, comedy, weirdness. It was a challenge to write on my part because I don’t feel confident with action, so I’m proud of how it turned out. Need to somehow throw Nemo back at Drakken as he is an adult Nemo respects, against all odds lmfao. 

The Ashleys Break-up: ive talked about this i think but i just think this plot is not something we do a lot– like a friendship break up. It was HORRIBLE to write because Ashleigh is a horrible person. I didn’t enjoy it but at the same time, like, i did?? Because it was so new and it hurt in a good way. And writing should def make you feel something so there u go 

The Acheron Children Reveal: This thread had it all. Grand reveals, dramatic confrontations, Opal being a little terror, and me getting to RP Hades and Snow’s first meeting, which is a big deal to no one but me. I loved it!! Love this plot in general, it’s very fun, dramatic, and silly to an extent– like, maybe not the same kind of silly as the nihon plot at all, but just the kind of bizarre humor that I really love and thrive at. 

In terms of your own writing, identify 1-3 strengths and talk about why you think it’s one of your strengths.

Ive done this questionnaire too much and i never improve on anything so its just gonna be the same shit yall im so sorry lmfao. 

Image Systems: this is still my best thing i think. Its what really helps a character come into focus for me in the first place and definitely helps me wake up the muse if im struggling. I love using weather metaphors for nemo or a billion pop culture references for pip. I just love an image system.

Crea…tivi…ty? I could just write LORE but gosh atp im almost a cliche @ myself. So i’ll go even broader and just say hey i can come up with a lot of oddball ideas! Maybe its plot related (the nihon plot) or maybe its a spill meme. Maybe its new lore and maybe its a throwaway joke. When im at my best, i feel like an idea factory lolol.

Spontaneity: also a weakness which i’ll use to expose myself in a second but i like taht im a go with the flow rper and will follow my own silly tangents. It makes rp FUN and i hope that people have as much fun reading some of those replies as i do writing them!! 

In terms of your own writing, identify 1-3 areas of improvement.

I have no flaws actually (joke). With this im going to get granular why not

Pay attention to excessive filtering 

Pay attention to use of the beloved m dash

Work on more creative metaphors and imagery

Edit out like 50 percent of characters saying ‘oh’ before they finish their sentences lmfao 

Establish setting better so ppl dont think ur character is inside when u are very much outside (if u know u know) 

Plot more intentionally or check in with partners more about direction of a thread (even if i love for a thread to do whatever it wants lmfao) 

And so on and so forth. 

Pick one of your plots, or even just a character, and come up with a list of 3-5 “mentor texts” where you can look for inspiration or research, then write a short (2-4 sentences) why you picked those texts. (They don’t have to be books, either!)

I guess i’ll do SNOW sure. 

Hometown Cha Cha Cha: This de-light-ful little kdrama really helped me hone the ‘gentle’ part of Snow’s gentle fantasy last fall before she came into this rp. It’s about a city dentist who comes to the small seaside town of Gongjin to set up a private clinic where she meets a town handyman. Does that sound like a Hallmark movie to you? It does. It’s better though. What I loved about this drama was how it made Gongjin the town a character too, and spoke a lot about connection and community. I wanted this for Snow, both with her staff and in Swynlake as a whole. Also, this is why I gave Snow her fabulous LA backstory bc c’mon aren’t we all suckers for the culture shock and hallmark moments we are!!

Gideon the Ninth: it is no secret that I picked this up while working on Snow’s necromancy, but in reality this gave me WAY more Amity inspo. Hilarious, i know. BUT I will say the Seventh House specifically–the rose unblown– really gave me lots of inspo for how Snow THINKS about death. This is a house that finds death inherently beautiful, and the lush descriptions of disease in Gideon the Ninth made me so excited to write about corpses and blood and all that fun yucky stuff. Romanticize the shit out of it. That’s what Snow is here to do. 

Hotel Del Luna: It is ALSO no secret that I basically stole this kdrama’s main premise because it is about a hotel manager for the hotel of the dead, though it’s like, way more about dead people than the Hauntley because unfortunately we don’t have enough dead people in this rp and I have to NPC the ghosts more lol. What this kdrama really did though was give me ideas about how necromancy can be connected to past lives. This is a plot I’m doing right now with Robbie and Nemo and would love to do more because it’s dope, really. Also, Snow’s expensive wardrobe is a homage to Jang Man-wol, the og. I was so so so so close to using IU. I think about her every day. 

IU’s album, Lilac: Ahem, so the concept of Lilac is "greeting/farewell.” I’m going to quote IU now because she can speak for herself "Since I debuted at the age of 18…I'm making this album because I want to say goodbye to those who have been watching over my twenties, and thank you to those who watched until the very end. I want to have a glamorous goodbye. Something glamorous, without sadness. [...] I want to reach my thirties with a clean slate. In the language of flowers, 'lilac' means 'memories of youth.' I wanted to include a farewell with the message 'I'm now going onward to my next chapter' while also greeting my upcoming 30s at the same time.” 

This is very Snow and contains a lot of her themes. Snow’s story begins with goodbye. It begins with literal death. But the whole point of it is that she emerges more hopeful and even more powerful. IU’s album is full of gorgeous spring/winter imagery and songs about the inevitability of aging and like really tackling how contentious that is for women and especially for women in the spotlight. All of that is VERY Snow White, like not even just my snow, but like, The Snow White.  It contains one of the most powerful ballads I’ve ever heard called “My Sea,” which is my fave genre of song, aka, talking to your childhood self and forgiving yourself for your own turbulence. It’s fuckin stunning. 

Random shoutout also to all the architectural digest walk-throughs that I watch, and to Paige Wassal for teaching me about prop styling and Marie Kondo’s book about tidying up and the belief that even every day objects have their own spirits. 

And now, a wishlist! Jot down a few themes or stories or genres etc that you want to maybe pursue in the upcoming year! 

-Tournament Arc: I might have said this last year. I’ve been saying it for a while. But I just think we need to have a canon anime style tournament esp now that we have grand prix lore and shit like i want a proper tournament. Just wanna punch stuff idk. 

- 2 Baddies 2 Baddies 1 Porsche: sorry bad reference but the tl;dr is i would like to do some villain-esque plotting in the new year maybe!! Dabble with the darker sides of stuff. 

-More Silly Stuff: While writing this, i realized how so many of my fave things to write were inherently silly. I should lean into this! I want HIJINKS. I want off the wall things! Dumb stuff. Maybe i should be trying to work on my weaknesses, but nay, i’ll simply indulge them! 

-Ghost plots??? Sort of talked about it with Snow but like… I got an inn full of ghosts. I also have Hades, who is King of the Underworld. Kinda wanna play with some ghosties some more. I did it in my first two years of the rp so maybe getting more into it, esp with Snow (no offense Hades, but snow has more interesting opinions about ghosts). 

-Love Triangle: they get a bad rep i know! But they can be done well and personally I think i could do them well, lmao. 

OPTIONAL: Why do you RP?

I’ve answered this question for like five years in a row, and i dont have anything new to say! RP is my number one hobby and what consumes most of my brain energy, for better or worse. I just love this world and i love my characters and i love finding out what happens and i love that i can do all that and not worry too much about if my writing is “good.” i get to practice in the most generous and supportive playground with all my friends. Thank god i logged onto neopets and starting rping on those forums!! Thank god! 

[dinosaurtsukki]

⸺𝓉𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓀 27: i should be over all the butterflies (finale)

i should be over all the butterflies | a chuuya x gn!reader smau

a/n: wow, so here's another smau coming to a close. this ended up being much longer than i thought it would be but it was entertaining to write until the very end. i hope you guys like the final chapter and please let me know what you think of it !!

also, i'm sure some of you have been curious about the title. well, it's actually based on the song 'still into you' by paramore. when i first listened to that song i kinda imagined vocalist!chuuya (it's because of the orange hair). if you like, give it a listen while reading this last chapter

ever since he first started performing with the mafia dogs, chuuya had never felt stage fright or even remotely anxious before singing onstage. he even surprised himself when he came to the realization that performing was just second-nature to him.

but god was he nervous now.

usually, he was the one who hyped up the crowd before playing but right now, chuuya busied himself with fiddling with the height of the mic stand as tachihara and dazai took on the role.

"hey everyone!" dazai yelled into the microphone. the crowd in front of the stage cheered in unison.

"you may know us as the mafia dogs," tachihara continued. "but right now, you can think of us as the newest members of the journalism club."

"yeah, we actually just sent our application forms earlier," dazai laughed, glancing sideways at chuuya with a look that expressed 'dude, your turn to say something.'

"so, uh," chuuya cleared his throat. "we're actually going to perform a new song."

the crowd cheered once again and that put a smile on his face. he scanned the people standing in the front row until his eyes landed on you. chuuya bit back a laugh at the matching mustard shirt and pants you were wearing that made it impossible for him to spot. right beside you was ranpo, in crutches but mostly leaning on oda for support.

chuuya took in a deep breath and calmed himself down. having akutagawa right next to him, who looked the happiest he's ever been as he fiddled with the buttons on his keytar, definitely helped.

"this song is actually dedicated to someone. well, two people," chuuya clarified after exchanging a look with dazai. "and, i hope our thoughts come across in this song."

chuuya nodded at dazai and akutagawa, feeling his breath swell in his chest as he began to sing.

"can't count the years in one hand that we've been together. i need the other one to hold you, make you feel, make you feel better"

the roar of the audience gave chuuya a surge of confidence and he grinned widely as he continued to sing. it was always a bit nerve-wracking performing a new song and hoping their fans would like it. after all, he and dazai just poured out their raw emotions into the lyrics and hoped for the best.

for a split-second, chuuya's eyes darted over to make you out in the front row of the crowd again. was that a grin on your face or was he just imagining things? chuuya tried not to let the anxiety grip him.

"because after all this time, i'm still into you"

but at the end of the day, chuuya knew he would "perish and die", in the words of dazai, if he never let you know how he felt.

"i should be over all the butterflies but i'm into you. and baby even on our worst nights, i'm into you."

chuuya could tell that everyone was getting into the song by the time the chorus hit. the audience was jumping up and down in unison to the beat. dazai was leaning into the microphone singing the back-up vocals. tachihara had a wide, gleeful grin on his face he played the drums. even akutagawa was bobbing his head up and down to the music.

seeing all of them getting into the song gave chuuya just a bit of courage to lock eyes with you in the crowd as he sang the next line that condense all of his feelings.

"yeah after all this time, i'm still into you."

...

as soon as the mafia dogs started playing the song, one of the first thoughts in your head was "damn, chuuya's pants look really tight" and then "damn, chuuya looks really good onstage."

you've known him practically your whole life and even though back then he demonstrated no inclination at all for being a band vocalist, it looked like chuuya was born to be one. on the one hand, you felt bad that you two weren't close for the past few years. you would have enjoyed watching their earlier band practices and showing up for his first gig or watching him brainstorm new songs.

but getting to know chuuya again, especially this side of him, wasn't so bad. he was your best friend after all. and thanks to that little introduction he made before singing the song, chuuya's intentions were now clear as day to you.

"let them wonder how we got this far 'cause i don't even need to wonder at all"

you weren't sure if he could make you out in front of the crowd all, even if your mustard ensemble, much less see the expression on your face. there were probably hundreds of students in the campus square all watching and cheering to the mafia dogs' new song. but maybe, just maybe--

and there.

chuuya unmistakably met your gaze in the crowd and you smiled broadly at him in return as he ended the first chorus.

"yeah after all this time, i'm still into you"

'jesus christ, chuuya,' you thought as you smiled to yourself. 'you could have just sent me a text.'

...

"just so we're clear... you do know the song is dedicated to you, right?" ranpo said.

"i'm not that fucking dumb," you scoffed, flicking him on the forehead. right after the talent show, the three of you gathered near a bench just outside your dorm building. the crowds were slowly starting to thin out as well.

"is it... safe to assume that," oda spoke slowly beside him. you laughed slightly at the apparent hesitancy in his voice. "the other person is... me?"

"oda, i'm proud of you," ranpo grinned, clapping him on the shoulder. as if on cue, a text notification from oda's phone rang.

"you should take that like, right now," you insisted.

"really?" oda looked between you and ranpo. "do you need help with--?"

"i'll make it up the stairs on my own," ranpo huffed. "i'm not that helpless you know."

"right," you rolled your eyes. "says the guy who--"

"uh, y/n?"

you turned around to see chuuya approaching the three of you with his hands in his pockets and his guitar in its case on his shoulder. ranpo pushed you slightly forward before hurrying back to the dorm building in his crutches. oda waved goodbye before heading off in the other direction, leaving you and chuuya.

"so."

"so."

"nice... outfit," chuuya nodded at your shirt and pants.

"well, i've always had a thing for monochrome," you laughed, placing your hands on your hips. "look at your outfit though. i mean, can you even breathe in those pants?"

"not going to lie, i almost passed out on stage," chuuya joked and the two of you laughed in unison. "so... what did you think about the song?"

"hmm," you cocked your head to the side. "i think that whoever that song is dedicated to must be very lucky."

"really? then does that mean--"

"ranpo would absolutely love to be your boyfriend. or tachihara's. or is it akutagawa?" you interrupted him. chuuya stared at you with his mouth open before you burst into laughter.

"you should have seen the look on your face!" you pointed teasingly. "like your mouth was all open and everything. i gotta say chuuya i really--"

before you could even finish your sentence, chuuya had wrapped a finger around one of the belt loops of your mustard pants, pulling you close and kissing you right on the lips. instinctively, your arms wrapped around his neck and you felt both of chuuya's hands on your waist.

"you should see the look on your face," he whispered in a low voice as soon as you two parted. the smirk on his lips was enough to make you want to cover your face with your hands.

"i hate you chuuya," you whispered back much to his amusement.

"oh yeah, it sure seemed like you do." he flicked you on the forehead for good measure before walking off, leaving you to catch up to him.

"hey, hey. how did that song go again?" you asked, skipping next to chuuya. "i should be over all the butterflies... it's pretty catchy! you're gonna sing it for me again, right?"

"i literally just sang it for you."

"aw but i want one that's just for me. please chuuya?"

"...fine. maybe tomorrow."

a/n: and that is the end of the series! what happens to the characters next is all up to you guys (i do love an open ending for my fics). let me know what you all think and thank you for reading my series!

⸺𝓉𝒶𝑔𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉

@kiyoobi ​​​​ @atsumusdomain ​​​​ @laure-chan ​​​​ @goodfoodxoxoxo ​​​​ @guardianangelswings ​​​​ @kei-ya ​​​​ @loisuke ​​​​ @whootwhoot ​​​​ @liz-multifandom-hotel @kac-chowsballs ​​​​ @violentfarewll @fyoyacanruinmylifethanks ​ ​​​ @nightmare-light ​​​​ ​ @miyakiyo0mi ​​​​ @whorefordazai ​​​​ @rirk-ke ​​​​ @cross-crye ​​​ @alohablue @duhsies ​​​ @alittlesimp @tetsustation @https-inarizaki @himboos @magpiemissy @hanazou @monochromaticelliot

reblogs and comments are much appreciated

[annamaximoff24]

Double-Up

Nat x Reader: angst, mild smut, fluff

WC: 1.5k

Description: Set during Age of Ultron, the team goes to Clint’s house to lay low. There aren’t enough rooms for everyone so you and Natasha have to share. 

“We’re still a few hours away,” you heard Clint say as he piloted the Quinjet through the night.

You and the rest of the team had just faced Ultron and the two enhanced, who seemed to be working with him now. The boy, Pietro, was fast. The girl, Wanda, could manipulate minds. He was an inconvenience, but she was considered a serious threat to the Avengers. Working her magic, she was able to hypnotize the whole team, leaving you all a little shaken. 

You didn’t know what the others were forced to see, but you would never forget the visions she put in your head. With a wave of her hand she had thrown you back into your childhood. You were twelve, huddled in your room. Your younger sister was curled up next to you. She had been crying and you were trying to comfort her. Beyond your closed bedroom door you could hear your parents screaming at each other. This happened often but it was worse this time. They sounded like they were at the top of the stairs but suddenly your mom’s screaming stopped and you heard a gunshot, followed by the sound of her body falling down the stairs. 

You screamed, trying to cover your sister’s ears. The police showed up later that night after a concerned neighbor called. Your dad was arrested and sent to jail for the murder, and your sister was never the same after that. You always blamed yourself for that night. You felt like there was more you could have done to protect her and maybe even save your mom. 

“A few hours away from where?” Tony’s question snapped you back to the jet. You looked around. Bruce was rocking back and forth, a blanket wrapped around him. Natasha was sitting quietly, staring blankly ahead. 

“We’re going to a safe house,” Clint responded. Safe. That sounds good, you thought to yourself. With that slight comfort, you felt the weight of the fight fall on you and you slept for the rest of the ride. 

*****

The next morning you were woken up by Steve. The Quinjet had landed in a field, you didn’t know where, but there was a large house on the lot. You and the rest of the team brushed yourselves off and walked inside. 

You all met Clint’s very pregnant wife and two kids. He had never mentioned them to you before but the kids knew Nat, and they were ecstatic to see her standing in the doorway. 

“So we’re staying here for a few days?” Steve asked. 

Clint and his wife, Laura, nodded. “Unfortunately,” Laura said, “There aren’t enough bedrooms for everyone. Some of you will have to share.” Tony rolled his eyes at this before claiming the living room couch as his own. 

Thor couldn’t stay past nightfall, so Steve and Bruce decided to room together. That left you and Nat. 

“What do you say, Y/N?” Nat crossed her arms over her chest and smiled. “Why don’t you and I have a little slumber party?” 

You and Nat had become good friends after working together for a year. Being the only two girls in the tower pushed you closer, but there was still a lot you didn’t know about each other. There was something intimidating about sharing a room with her, even just for a night or two. 

“Sounds fun,” was all you said, smiling back at her. 

You, along with the rest of the team, spent the day helping out around the house and keeping the kids entertained. Shortly after dinner, Natasha disappeared, going up to your shared room. 

Once you finished dessert the conversation had started to slow. Tony had made one too many comments about Cap’s “Language” incident, and everyone was getting tired. 

“I would see myself out, but it appears you’re all sitting in my bedroom.” Tony said. Steve got up and went to sit on the porch. Bruce decided he should go to sleep, and Clint and Laura went to tuck the kids in. 

“Goodnight guys,” you called out before making your way up the stairs. 

“Goodnight Y/N,” they all responded. 

You walked up to the bedroom, the second door on the right, Laura had said. You opened the door, surprised to see the room was empty, the beds still made. Where’s Nat? You thought. As if on cue, another door across the room clicked open. Nat walked out, a cloud of steam escaping with her. Her hair was wet and she was in nothing but a towel. 

“Oh, sorry.” You blushed at her before quickly turning to face the wall. 

“Don’t worry about it,” she laughed. “We’re both girls here.” 

You let out a quiet laugh to couple hers, still focusing on a painting that hung in front of you. 

“You can turn around now,” Natasha called. You turned slowly to find her in a pair of shorts, slipping a tank top over her head. 

“I should change too. Do you know where I could find some clothes?” You asked. “Ones that would fit me, at least,” you added, knowing you were substantially smaller than both Nat and Laura. 

“I have something.” Nat walked to the dresser by the door and pulled something out of the top drawer. “What do you think?” She held up a lacy black and red nightgown. “I left it here the last time I visited.” 

“Yeah, I’m definitely not wearing that.” 

“Why not?” Nat pouted. “It would look so good on you.” She gave you a playful smirk. Was she…flirting with you? 

“Because,” you started, swallowing nervously, “I’m sure it looks amazing on your curves, but I have the body of a twelve-year-old boy. I would drown in that thing.”

“I wouldn’t say that.” Nat started to close the space between you, driving you up against the wall. 

“Natasha,” her face was inches from your own, “what are you doing?” 

“Are we not allowed to have a little fun? You’ve been so tense lately.” Her gaze traveled down your body and you felt shivers run down your spine. “I think you need to loosen up a bit.” Natasha ran her hands up your arms, stopping to rub your shoulders. You let them fall, relaxing your muscles for the first time in days. 

She smiled at you as you let out a relieved sigh. What the hell, she’s right. One night of fun couldn’t hurt. “Just so we’re on the same page…” you looked up at her and, with a sudden burst of courage, cupped the side of her face with your palm and kissed her lightly. “You mean this, right?” You said, pulling away. 

“That was bold,” she noted, a smile working its way across her face. 

“I hope that’s not a problem, Agent Romanoff.” Deciding to roll with it fully, you threw extra sweetness in the last few words. 

“Not at all.” She reconnected her lips to yours. They were soft and warm, and her hands traveled down your back, pulling you closer to her. You yelped as she picked you up, not breaking the kiss. She walked back towards the bed, and you wrapped your legs around her waist to stabilize yourself. 

Nat placed you on the bed gently, trailing kisses down your jaw. She pulled the collar of your shirt down and worked her way lower. Your head was thrown back into the pillows, and your eyes were closed. You just wanted to enjoy this for a while. 

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. Nat stopped, rolling next to you as you sat up on the bed. “Who is it?” She called. 

“Laura,” the voice on the other side rang out. 

“Come in.” You said, running a hand through your hair to erase any evidence of Nat’s hands in it. 

Laura appeared in the doorway, an extra set of clothes in her arms. “Hi, I just wanted to bring Y/N something to sleep in.” She offered them to you. 

“Oh,” Natasha flashed you a teasing look, you glared at her, trying not to blush. “Thanks.” You took them from Laura and placed them on the bed next to you. 

“Let me know if you need anything else.” You and Nat both nodded. “Until then, I’ll leave you two alone.” She walked back, you and Nat giggling quietly to yourselves. “And girls,” Laura paused at the door, “Don’t make too much noise. The walls are thin, and Lila likes to wander around late at night.” 

“We won’t, Laur.” Nat rolled her eyes. “Goodnight.”

Once Laura closed the door behind her, Nat turned back to you. “So?” She raised an eyebrow. You hit her arm gently. “Ow, what was that for?”

“You are a tease, Natasha Romanoff.” She feigned offense at this, knowing you were right. “Now, I’m going to change and go to sleep. 

“But-” Nat protested as you got up. 

“Thin walls!” You called back as you walked to the bathroom to get ready for bed. It felt good to have a little control over her.  

[fa-by]

Hellooo babies and dear Anons 👋🏼🤗 Welcome to a new ‘Q&A’ post. Enjoy 🙃

Here, dear Anon. I spoke and gave my interpretation of Find U Again here: https://fa-by.tumblr.com/post/648195009382842368/2-%C9%9F (sixth question).

Here, dear Anon. I talked about Michael Clifford here: https://fa-by.tumblr.com/post/648194217526640640/%C9%9F (Point n° 2).

Nope and nope, dear Anon. Camila was in a relationship before they got together. May I advise you to listen to their songs with a little more attention, dear?

They were certainly more distant, dear Anon. As for the not speaking, it was a bit impossible not to do it work-wise speaking, but they certainly didn't talk about them and their situation. Not until Laur finally got her head out of her ass.

1) Of course I do, dear Anon. 2) She didn't hide it very well as you say. 3) Yes, because Lauren, but also Camila, are anything but subtle when they're jealous.

Thank you so much, dear Anon 🤗 and forgive me, but I don't think I understood what you mean. Do you mean if they were angry at each other? Because if they were angry at each other, then I don't think they shared a room 🤷🏻‍♀‍

Hiii to you too, baby CS 👋🏼😄 Lauren created her Tumblr at 14, so, no, I'm sorry, dear. It has nothing to do with Camila.

Hello to you too, dear Anon 👋🏼😄 When they stopped communicating again. It became painful when they stopped sharing with each other moments, situations, feelings, desires, opinions, fears, and everything that is enclosed in communication. But this happened after their first breakup. Their real first breakup lasted very little and led to their rings, dear. Sooo.

No, dear Anon, they weren't fighting. That was a soundcheck, not the concert. Can't you see they didn't have their white stage costumes? Can't you see they were all lazily rehearsing the steps? And then, I'm sorry, dear, but have you ever seen Camila angry? Does it look like she's angry here?

That's just Mila being Mila, dear Anon 🤣

No, dear Anon. That rumor was created as soon as the video of Camila singing the ‘The Hills/Crazy in Love’ mashup cover came out on July 3, 2015. It's just that. A cover like many others she's done. Mila at the time still didn't have the possibility and the access to record in a professional studio outside of 5H, so let alone if she could write and sell a song. And another proof I can give you about this is the fact that she hadn't even written I Know What You Did Last Summer yet. Camila, Ally, and Troy (Ally's ex-boyfriend) went to Taylor's ‘1989 Tour’ concert on July 10, 2015 (Shiseido was one of the opening acts, and that was the day ‘they wrote’, sure, Jane, a part of IKWDLS backstage). Exactly 7 days after that video. So, dear Anon, my answer is no. I don't believe at all in the possibility that it happened.

Hello to you too, dear Anon 👋🏼😄 Yes, I read it, and no, dear. The story was written in 2014, so even though we can find coincidences today, it means absolutely nothing. They're just that: coincidences. The girl who wrote it, Jazmin, is from Germany, and that alone should make you realize she's not an insider. She's just a really talented and brilliant girl who has been able to write stories like Do I Wanna Know, CC7, and LJ10.

Of course I've seen/heard that video, dear Anon. I also talked about it in my last post, about the kiss more specifically. And to answer your questions:

1) neither. You can hear someone say: “This is weird. I missed you so much”. And honestly? I find this part of the audio so incredibly strange. You wanna know why? Because the video starts with screaming fans, right? One of them even screaming Lauren’s name. Then there's this sentence said at the same time as the kiss. That alone proves they didn't say it, but that’s not even what makes that sentence weird for me. It's the fact that I believe it was inserted into the video. I mean, I can't hear what Lucy and Nando are saying who are much closer to the camera than Camren, but I can clearly hear this sentence which is should supposedly have been said by one of them in a low voice from inside the van? Like, whaaaat? Come on, now. Look and listen for yourself if you don't believe me: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OAZS1QhEgoU.

2) Surprised by what? And why are you so sure they slept together?

I hope you're having a good day too, dear Anon.

Hello to you too, dear Anon 👋🏼😄 To me, Camila explains in a brilliantly sarcastic and sassy way, how she doesn't need a guy. Like “Cinderella never asked for a prince”, in this case, her.

If you think about it, all Disney princesses are beautiful, well-dressed, thin, with long hair, often naïve, and especially in the first movies, white. And all of them always follow the same basic model: they wait for the intervention of prince charming to solve the problems of their existence. Disney has luckily evolved over the years, but do you realize that they’ve made us grow up with the idea that to save us from our troubles and to change our lives, will be the encounter with ‘the right man’? That finding the love of one's life is the goal for a woman, and that beauty is the means to conquer it?

Disney movies, undoubtedly, convey a lot of positive messages. They can spur us on to being altruistic and optimistic, to commit ourselves to what we do, to try to change our own destiny, etc., etc. But they also have negative aspects and messages like, indeed, a Cinderella. The poor and beautiful maid, forced to work as a scullery maid by her stepmother and evil stepsisters, envious of her beauty. An unhappy housewife who doesn’t lift a finger to change the bad situation she’s in. And what's the only way her life changes? When the handsome and rich prince she met for only five minutes, marries her. I mean, what? Sis, you danced for a couple of hours at a party with him! You basically know nothing about him, but you marry him? Okay...

Disney animated movies are rites of passage, and although it may not seem from what I said, I really love animated movies. Although they have messages that may or may not adversely affect, they're also beautiful and fun. I grew up seeing them, and I am who I am today. I watched the videotapes every day and knew them all by heart. But then growing up, I realized that not everything they show is right. So, I advise you, dear Anon, and whoever is reading this, if you have a little sister, a little cousin, or are dealing with little girls, please, explain the differences to them as you watch those movies with them. Explain to them that beauty isn't everything. Explain to them that they don't need to be blonde and blue-eyed like Cinderella. Because they are and will be beautiful as they are, and that especially when they're older, this will not have to become a requirement to be socially accepted.

But anyway. Sorry if I dwelt, dear Anon 😅 I believe Camila used this song as her own unique way to dispel the stereotype of the classic Disney princess. Sentences like “She said ‘a dream is a wish your heart makes’, and he's a sad reality”, “Us twenty first century girls need chivalry too”, and “I'm still a damn princess to you” make us understand this. She didn't need a guy, and that's all the song stands for. Hope you have a good day too, dear 😊

🤸🏻‍♀‍🤸🏻‍♀‍🤸🏻‍♀‍

Aaand I'm done 😛 I hope I was helpful in this case too 🙃 Thank you all for your asks and as usual, know that I'm available for those who have questions, so feel free to ask 😊

Always remember to be kind, to others and to yourselves. Be a good example. Be patient. Be safe and take care of yourselves. Don't let our ship sink. Keep shipping them, but please respectfully 🙏🏼 Sending you virtual love and hugs 🤗🤗🤗 I love you, babies. Always with love, F ❤️

[whitherliliesbloom]

all like magic to my riddled heart

[ ffxivwrite2021 ] ★ [ masterlist ] ★ [ prompt #29 - debonair ]

[ alphinaud/wol ] ★ [ 2,415 words ]  ★ [ post-canon ]

very very indulgent domestic fic. mentions the scions and laurelis.

debonair- attractive, confident, and carefully dressed (especially men)

on the occasion that alphinaud feels confident enough to perfectly exude his charm, illya never fails to be swept off her feet.

A waft of lavender and a tone of warm spring flowers, a dimly lit entrance way with flickering flames from wax candles welcoming her home. She hears the orchestrion in the living room playing a soothing harmony of an Ishgardian ballad from a distance, as the sounds of piano and violin mingle like a euphony in her ears. It’s not exactly the sight, sound and scent she’d expected coming home from a particularly taxing mission at Raincatcher Gully.

Her hair is soaked from the evening rain, silken white strands plastered to the sides of her face and neck. Her long white robe feels heavy and cold, soaked from the weight of the storm against her fair goosebump riddled skin, and yet her face feels oh so warm as she looks up with bewildered, shimmering violet eyes at the man in front of her, dressed in his smart boulevardier’s shirt that was tucked into a tan dress pants. 

And with the allure of his brilliantly confident smile as he kneels down and places a soft, mariner cotton towel over her head to dry her head of stray droplets of the rain, the warrior of light could not help but to feel utterly grubby and repulsive in comparison.

“Welcome home, darling.” Her husband greets her, his voice low and silky smooth like the finest white wine, and the young woman could only stammer like a fool as she sets her travel pack on the floor next to the neatly arranged shoe rack. 

“T-thank you- I’m home.” 

This isn’t the first time Alphinaud has welcomed her at the door- nor is it even the first he has attempted to surprise her with some manner. But an Alphinaud who was completely within his element, confident and exuding in unparalleled charisma was something she only occasionally bore witness to- and most of the time that energy of his was directed towards negotiation tables and mixed in with a seriousness that was completely absent from him now.

She’s seen all sides of him - as he has seen all sides of her, both the best of themselves and also the worst. She thought she knew Alphinaud inside out by now, having known him for what feels like her entire life now, because he certainly knew her better than she even knew herself. 

But as Krile had once eloquently said, giggling with mischief as she and Alisaie ganged up in an effort to embarrass him at his own wedding reception, Alphinaud is ever full of surprises.

Her first surprise out of many for the night would come when she feels his arms wrap around the back of her thighs, picking the lalafellin up against his chest effortlessly as he rises up and begins taking light, careful strides towards the bathroom on the first floor.

“W-wait! Alphy, your clothes!” Illya struggles against his grip, grimacing at the way the fabric of his shirt was beginning to darken at the moisture from her own. “You’re going to get dirty!”

“It’s alright, Liya.” He reassures, his head tilting to press his lips against the side of her head and eliciting a surprised squeak from his wife. “I can clean myself up later. It’s far more imperative now for you to get washed up.”

With lips pressed tightly into a thin line as she holds back anymore words of protest, she finally leans into Alphinaud’s embrace until she hears the door to the bathroom being opened. 

There’s violet blue candles lit in the bathroom as well, some scattered about the sides of the bathtub and some lined up in front of the mirror by the sink, along with a pair of her favorite white crescent moon slippers and her nightgown neatly folded and waiting to worn upon their white console table. Illya could only wonder in silent anticipation just how much the man has prepared.

He sets her down upon the edge of the bathtub, about to bend down to help remove the girl’s combat boots when Illya quickly shakes her legs off his grip with a frantic wave of her arm.

“I-It’s okay! I can do this myself!”

Something flickers in Alphinaud’s navy blue eyes, a feigned sadness that almost has her caving in to him.

“Are you sure?”

“Y-yes! Positive!” 

Finally sighing softly in relief as she watches the man get up with a soft smile and a nod, her shoulders slump lightly when he moves to the door and turns to look back at her for a moment.

“Then, I’ll check on dinner while you get cleaned.”

Dinner? Dinner?? Alphinaud prepared dinner?

Illya was not even afforded enough time to process what she’d just heard until she hears the bathroom door lightly click close, and for several, painfully long seconds her eyes could only stare forward into space, head filled with a mixture of whirling confusion and hot air that quickly spreads to the surface of her cheeks.

What has gotten into Alphinaud? Was it an anniversary of some sorts that she forgot? It’s very unlikely, given her (usually) impressive memory, especially when it came to remembering important dates. If she could memorize entire elemental charts and a textbook about advanced aetherology that she read many years ago, then surely she’d remember significant dates that related to her most beloved.

Their eternal bond anniversary won’t come for at least another half a year, and the day of their meeting had just passed a few weeks ago, celebrated with a splendid picnic dinner under the stars in Costa del Sol, listening to the sound of the waves upon the sand and distant howls of the ocean wind as they reminisced about unforgotten pasts. 

And as far as Illya could remember Alphinaud hasn’t acted any differently the days prior to this one... if only because he seemed a lot more busy with his own work than usual so much that she rarely got to even see him - something about visitors from Old Sharlayan needing help with a new research project related to arcane invocations, something that he specialized in. 

It suddenly clicks in her head now, his insistence that he didn’t require her help and his prolonged absence from home - he must have planned and prepared to surprise her all along.

The question then remained of why.. and it was unfortunately a question she could not answer on her own.

Her head is churning with flaring curiosity, even as she’d stepped into the bath and began to wash herself free of the sticky rainwater, mud and dirt upon her skin and allows herself to relax just a little as the fragrance of the plum blossom scented soap wafts into the air. 

Illya takes her time drying her hair, soft and fluffy as a morning cloud as she stood upon her lalafellin stool to stare into the mirror. Her hands move in deliberate strokes, dabbing moisture off the silken pure white strands with the towel before running her fingers through mild tangles. 

Perhaps she felt the urge to be more attentive of her own appearance knowing Alphinaud’s own well groomed self this evening, and she takes a particularly long while combing through her hair until it finally cascades down past her shoulders and hips flawlessly like a glowing wedding veil. 

The air against the skin of her bare arms as she opens the door of the bathroom feels cool and comforting, and it doesn’t take long for her husband to hear her coming out, as he peeks around the corner of the hallway and lets out a warm smile. 

“Ah, you’re done. And looking as beautiful as ever, I see.” 

He’s going above and beyond tonight, Illya thinks to herself in mild amusement and fluster. She doesn’t resist this time when the man approaches her and picks her up from the floor. 

“Dinner is almost ready. The dumplings just need a little longer.”

Oh right- dinner- 

Not only did Alphinaud prepare dinner, but he also prepared dumplings? Illya could barely contain her expression of utter surprise as she widens her eyes, wrapping her arms around his neck and fiddling with his ponytail. 

“You...you learned how to make dumplings?”

“I got a copy of your mother’s recipe for crystal shrimp and asked Tataru for assistance with learning it.” Alphinaud’s voice is laced with clear pride, as the corners of his lips curl upwards so far that it’d almost split his face in two. “I wouldn’t dare claim to be on par with a mothers’ cooking... but I’d like to think you’ll be pleased with my efforts nonetheless.”

Illya hasn’t even tasted his food yet and she’s already thoroughly impressed, and also a tad more bewildered than before now at the sheer lengths he’s gone.

Of course, she was fully aware of his previous endeavors in the culinary arts, and the scions would vouch for his efforts by bringing up testimonies of their taste buds being used as guinea pigs for his many, many cooking attempts - some more pleasant for them to stomach than others... Y’shtola in particularly even called the pastries he baked even more dire than the dreaded archon loaf, and that comparison was something a professional chef like Illya could not even begin to fathom. 

Alphinaud was a perfectionist - sometimes almost to a fault... So if he was so confident as to be making a full course dinner for her now meant that he must have gained the approval of the others.

How many days and how many nights had he labored away to practice all for her sake? To even imagine it causes Illya’s cheeks to flare up in a bright red color. 

She doesn’t even realize he’s sat them down upon the couch until she feels him move her legs to rest against his lap and he picks one of them up, causing her to involuntarily lean back onto the cushion as she rests her hands against her sides for support.

“A-alphy?? What are you-?”

“You must be exhausted from today. Why don’t I give your feet a massage?”

“M-M-Mas-Massa-????”

The fact Illya’s head hadn’t just imploded then and there on the spot was something of a miracle... though it did not stop the rush of blood pumping through her veins as her heart rapidly increases in its pace, pounding deafeningly loud within her chest. 

“Bu bu bu!! Bu xing!! Ni- Wei-” 

Her husband merely smirks, watching her fluster cause her to devolve back into her mother tongue. 

“Please, allow me to do this for you.”

With a light press of his fingers against her feet as he began kneading at the hidden knots of the muscles in her ankle and soles, Illya watched dumbfounded, relaxed yet tensed in her shoulders, unable to shake off the heat that was begin to fill her head. 

Alphinaud’s charm is dangerous - far too much so... And if he’d endeavored to completely rid her of all her composure, it’s clearly working - almost.

“Alphinaud!” The lalafellin calls his name in full, which causes the man to pause in his movements, and she feels his hands tense just slightly.

“Is something wrong, my love?” A good half of his earlier suave fades in place of genuine concern and a softened gaze in his expression, and the gentleness of his deep blue eyes allows her to finally relax.

Seizing this heaven sent opportunity, the woman leans forward, her hands raising up to cup the sides of his cheeks, and with a faked confident smirk, she whispers in a hushed tone. 

“Alisaie showed me a copy of your final thesis from the Studium.”

Instantly, color drains from the young man’s face, and the calm collected confidence he’d carried in his posture and face dissipates into an unexpected fluster of his own, as he pulls back abruptly and his voice raises in pitch.

“W-what??? But- that-” He’s stuttering, fingers loosening their hold as she finally frees her legs and lowers it over his lap. “A-ahem... but what does that have to do with anything now?? I-I mean.. if you want to tease me about it, that’s fine but-”

“It doesn’t.” With an apologetic and gentle smile, she raises her hand up to softly brush against his face. “And I was lying about that, I’m sorry.”

“Oh thank the twelve-”

Alphinaud’s shoulders droop down in relief and his head bows, a heavy exhale leaving his parted lips. Illya cannot help but to let out a soft, melodic giggle that catches the man’s attention to finally lift his head up to look at her again.

“But why did you...?”

“I feared a casanova took over the body of my husband.” Illya laughs quietly, “I was just making sure it really was you.”

“Does that sort of charm not suit me, then? You told Laurelis that you liked it when I’m confident.” 

Ah- So that’s why... 

The revelation that her husband had overheard her speaking of him to her best friend darkens the already blistering hot blush over her cheeks and ear, but not as much as the idea that the reason he’d spontaneously decided to surprise her in this manner was because of a misunderstanding over what he heard.

Well, not entirely. The confidence Alphinaud carried that she’d mentioned to Laurelis was of a different sort - of a man who worked tirelessly towards his ideals and would not give up his dreams no matter who would aim to persuade him to. Of the man that she grew so enamored to for his undying devotion towards his goals and towards serving and protecting others. For all he has endured and all that he continues to uphold even with all that he has suffered through in life.

Where others would see a naive, idle dreamer, she saw in him someone who was capable of so much - and if anybody in the world would be able to make his far reaching dreams a reality, it’d be Alphinaud. 

That was the confident Alphinaud Illya fell in love with.

Though, she admits begrudgingly, with a light sheepish shift of her leg beneath the hem of her gown and a tilt of her head to avert her eyes from his own, that this debonair side of Alphinaud was very much welcome as well.

“No, no. It suits you very well.” With an embarrassed pout, Illya lifts her left leg slightly into the air for him to hold, leaning back onto the palms of her hands once more. “I like it. Very much.”

[puppetsoftomorrow]

dinahsiren ficlet time

so uhh inspiration hit today and i wrote this?? tw for hospitals, head trauma and amnesia. it’s cute tho i promise

you know the trope, someone wakes up from a coma and they dont recognise their spouse and are amazed theyve got such a hot spouse?? this is like. the inverse of that. if that makes sense lmao

Dinah hadn't slept properly for weeks. It had been a regular patrol, until Laurel had got on the wrong side of a thug with an iron bar and ended up in the hospital, in an induced coma to help her heal from the head trauma.

She'd spent every night by her bed, holding her hand, and most mornings and evenings too, and even some lunch breaks when her workload was light enough. Dinah had become a familiar sight on the ward, files under her arm, working away on her laptop one-handed whilst her other hand held Laurel's.

Trust Laurel to wake up in one of the few hours Dinah spent away from her.

“She's awake!” Felicity said excitedly over the phone. “Well - she's a bit confused and very sleepy, but she's awake.”

Dinah left, a whirlwind through the precinct, and drove as fast as she legally could over to the hospital.

The sight that greeted her was so beautiful she almost cried.  

“Laurel.” She whispered, and Laurel looked up, eyes wide and tired and slightly unfocused, and she smiled, the blissed out sort of smile that came with being on heavy pain medication.

Felicity appeared in the doorway, blocking her. “Retrograde amnesia is very common in patients with head trauma.” She blurted out, and Dinah raised an eyebrow.

“What?”

“Laurel - she doesn't remember anything. It's pretty common and it'll come back to her in a couple of hours or days, but -”

“She doesn't know who you are? Who I am?” Dinah asked cautiously, because if the Laurel she knew woke up in a hospital surrounded by strangers, they were going to need the meta-dampener.

“No, but she's weirdly chill about it.” Felicity said, turning back to Laurel. “I have to go now - I've got to brief the others. Dinah's going to stay with you.”

“That's Dinah? You never told me she was hot.” Laurel said, her voice slurred slightly, and Dinah felt herself flush. She gave Felicity's arm a squeeze.  

“I'll look after her.”

Felicity nodded in thanks, saying her goodbyes to Laurel as she left, shutting the door behind her.  

Dinah made her way to Laurel's bedside. “How are you feeling?” She said quietly, her hand darting out to move a strand of hair back from her forehead, and Laurel looked at her, a lazy smile on her face.

“Better now that you're here.”

Dinah rolled her eyes - normally she loved their flirty banter, but flirting with an amnesiac head trauma patient seemed beyond what she was up for.  

“Are you my wife?” Laurel blurted out unexpectedly.  

“What? No -” Dinah said, a little taken aback, and Laurel scrunched her nose, a move so adorable it made Dinah's knees a little weak.

“No, I think you are.” Laurel said, having considered it for a moment. “That woman - Felicity - she said you spent every night and day here, and you were the first person she called about me. That sounds like my wife.”

“That's just - I'm just your friend, Laurel.” Dinah said softly.  

“Then why am I wearing a wedding ring?” Laurel said, pulling her hands from under the blanket with great effort. Her eyes widened. “Why am I wearing so many rings!”

“They're not all - none of them are wedding rings.” Dinah said, trying to stop herself from laughing. “You just like wearing rings, okay?”

Laurel nodded, examining her hands, before she looked back up at Dinah. “See? You know me. Like my wife.”

“Like your friend, Laurel.” Dinah said, a smile on her face. “Are you going to believe me?”

“No.” Laurel muttered, frowning. “I don't want to believe it. Why haven't I made a move? Are you dating someone? Are you straight?”

“I'm not dating anyone, and I'm not straight.” Dinah said.  

“Oh, thank god.” Laurel said. “If you were straight that would be like - an affront. To everyone. You're way too hot.”

“Thanks?” Dinah started, trying to hold in her laughter, unsure if she should take it as a complement or not. “Laurel - you should rest. You're going to be mad at me that I let you say all this.”

Laurel frowned, pouting slightly. “I don't want to. I've slept for ages.”

Dinah was going to push it, but the doctor came in - he didn't look up from his chart, didn't see Laurel shrink back slightly, so Dinah moved to hold her hand, and answered for Laurel when Laurel couldn't remember. He left after a few minutes, and Dinah looked back down to Laurel, who was looking up at her with wide eyes.

“What?”

“We’re definitely married.”

“Laurel -”

“You know I have a fucking cashew allergy, I didn’t even know that -”

“You have amnesia, Laur, you don’t remember anything-”

“And the nickname!” Laurel said indignantly. “You have a nickname for me? And we’re not even dating?”

“Can you go to sleep, please?” Dinah sighed.

Laurel opened her mouth to argue, but then thought better of it, sighing deeply. “Fine.” Dinah helped her lay down, adjusting the pillows, until Laurel was looking up at her with wide eyes. “Will you stay?”  

“Yeah, I’ll stay.” Dinah said, then looked around for the chair she’d been napping in the last several nights, but it had been moved -

“Get in.” Laurel mumbled, half asleep, and Dinah looked back to see Laurel had moved as far over as she could get, looking at Dinah drowsily.

“Laurel, I don’t - that bed cannot fit two -”

“It’s better than the floor.” Laurel mumbled. “Please?”

Dinah looked at her – Laurel looked surprisingly small in the thin pajama's the hospital had given her, and she gave in, because she hadn’t slept properly since Laurel’s accident and the exhaustion was starting to creep in. She toed off her shoes and dropped her leather jacket onto the side table before very carefully laying down on the bed.

Laurel seized the opportunity almost immediately, cuddling closer and turning, very slowly, to face Dinah, a grin on her face.

“Are you happy now?”

Laurel hummed in response, pulling even closer, and Dinah drew her arms up around her to hold her closer, careful not to jostle any injuries.

“See?” Laurel said, her voice muffled by a yawn. “We have to be married, I fit too well in your arms.”

Dinah didn’t reply straight away, just started to rub her hand absent-mindedly down Laurel’s back.

“Stop fighting it, go to sleep.” She murmured, when she felt Laurel shift in her arms. “I’ll be here when you wake up, I promise.”

“Promise?” Laurel muttered, clearly half asleep, and Dinah bent a little to press a kiss to her forehead.

“Yeah, I’d be a shitty wife if I didn’t.”

///

so okay this isn’t something i’ll post on ao3 - tho i might if i get a few dinahsiren fics together and make a little collection. who knows lmao. lemme know what y’all think!!

[sunflowervolvimp3]

inspo pics for 42 hours (wedding edition!!)

okay so i had a lot of people asking me what everyone would be wearing to the wedding, what the colours would be, what the wedding dresses would look like, and originally i was going to make a moodboard, but i went a little too deep thinking about everyone’s wedding attire (as always) and decided. you know what. they need their own post. so!! strap in ladies!!

let’s start with Y/N’s maid of honour look:

she’ll be dressed in the main wedding colour, which is this nice emerald/hunter green!! it has thin straps, a deep v neck, and a sheer overlay to flow nicely in the wind near the lake. picture a combination of these two pictures, with the colour and shape of the second and the fabric of the first.

next!! the best man!! Harry!! 

i spent a long time thinking about what Harry would wear. originally i was leaning towards a navy/black suit with a green tie, but as i dug deeper and deeper into photos, i found these and fell in love. no tie. unbuttoned like his shirts always are, showing off his tattoos and cross necklace. the same emerald green as Y/N’s dress to be cohesive and also to bring out his eyes. his curls are messy but styled messy, so a little neater than usual. wow.

okay now we have bride number one!! Jo!!

i knew from the beginning that Jo would be in a very flowy dress, and i knew that it would have little flowy sleeves!! this doesn’t quite match what i pictured, because i think her straps would be a little thinner and maybe even squared more, but it’s pretty close!!! if Jo were a teen in the era of tiktok, she would be all over the cottagecore side of it.

and finally!! bride number 2!! Laure!!

Laure’s look was the hardest out of all of them honestly. i knew i wanted her in some sort of jumpsuit, but i couldn’t find one exactly like i pictured!!! the best i could find was these two images, so imagine it as a cross between them. the top of the first one with thin straps and an off the shoulder accent, with the fabric of the second, and the same bottom silhouette!! however i do think it would have less sheer spaces on the legs, and would instead continue the floral pattern all the way down the leg. 

and as a fun lil bonus!! here is Jo’s engagement ring and wedding band:

and Laure’s engagement ring and wedding band:

yes they bought each other engagement rings because they’re sappy and in sync and planned to propose to each other at the same time <3

[windup-dragoon]

In the warmth of spring

|| FFXIV write - 2020

|| Prompt #16 - Lucubration 

|| Post ShB 

|| wol x Hien

|| 1360 words

|| References - Pain 

|| With mentions of Illya, Laurelis, Arianna, and Moth’ir 

|| In which the Prince struggles with celebration 

Spring in Doma had always been his favorite season. The earthy tones of Yanxia were abruptly replaced with bursts of color. From rich scarlet hues, soft blushing pinks, to the purest of whites he had ever seen. All of these and more in full blossom this time of year. And it was for this reason that he had chosen to hold his coronation until now. 

He wanted the world to see how truly magnificent the enclave could be. Certainly it was without the charm or history of Doma Castle that now sat at the bottom of the river, but this was home now. Where his people could feel safe once more and flourish. Together, they would create a new history for Doma. 

A single blossom fluttered before him now, caught in the breeze of a brisk evening. The flame of his lantern flickered, sending shadows dancing across his parchment. Bold markings of fresh ink stretched out before him, the tiny flower, taken much too early from the branch, landing squarely on his working hand. His brushstrokes stilled while jade colored eyes studied the blossom. 

For the last week or so he took to the pavilion in the One Garden. A chance for peace and solitude as to better lucubrate over his work. While writing in the company of a certain Warrior of Light was, and has been, possible, it was simply too distracting to have her so near by. To hold her at a distance and ask for sheer silence seemed unfair to him, especially when it was their bedchamber to share. Where else would she go then so he could be at peace? Lest his mind wander and get lost daydreaming of her, so very near and far all at once. 

Instead it simply made sense to take leave for a few hours before midnight and hurriedly scribble his thoughts down on parchment before his train of thought escaped him. 

But now, in the stillness of the moment as the feather soft petals of the blossom caressed his skin, Hien staggered back into the here and now. The One River babbling at the docks had somehow grown louder at his ears, suddenly very aware just how heavy his eyelids felt. 

His work laid scattered before him, shared between hundreds of rolled parchment and hastily written ink. All of this was in preparation for his coronation. One document, somewhere among the mess, held a speech he would give to his people. He was incredibly proud of the words he had conjured from thin air that night and simply bubbled with excitement to see how well received it would be. Another was a simple list detailing events as they would occur, a timeline for his own knowing as he had never been to a coronation before nor remembered his mother or father ever once discussing the matter. But the one he struggled with the most, a piece of parchment with blotches of ink where he had fumbled with the brush or lost his concentration, the very same piece he helplessly tried to finish even now, titled only with her name. 

Hien had difficulty swallowing as he read over what he managed to produce, chewing on his lip as his cheeks flared scarlet. Another blunder. This would never suffice. His choice of words were always much too flowery, too heavy-handed or just too flat. Never could he find quite the right way to say what had been on his mind for months. Even extending inquiries to her friends seemed of little help. 

‘Say it romantically!’ Was Laurelis’ opinion. He hoped it would at least sound romantic in some way.  

‘Be honest and straightforward.’ Illya had replied. If he were too poetic, the sentiment would be lost to her, this much he knew. She often mentioned struggling to hold a conversation with Urianger after all. 

‘...Flowers?’ Arianna squeaked in her mousy way. 

‘Why are you asking for my opinion?” Emet-Selch was... certainly of no help. He was unsure why he even bothered to phrase a question to the man anyway, besides the fact that wherever Arianna went, the Ascian was close behind. 

With a sigh on his lips, Hien set aside his brush, his free hand capturing the little blossom and letting it rest in the center of his palm. Perhaps with the arrival of more of their friends and companions he could ask for more opinions. Moth’ir and Thancred were surely due to arrive any day, accompanied with their darling daughter Marmot. The two seemed more level headed; certainly they would have an answer for his struggles. 

For now, however, he would have to abandon the subject for another day. Exhaustion had crept up on him, leaving dark rings beneath his eyes and an ache in his bones that demanded the sweet comfort of sleep. But as he began collecting his parchment, it dawned on him. His stomach sunk, his heart beating with a hollow thump. 

There would be no goodnight kisses or a warm embrace beside him this night. Just as there had been none the night before. Early the day previous she had left for Eorzea with only a fleeting kiss on the cheek to remember her by. He had missed it then, too overwhelmed with decoration choices to see the urgency in her mismatched eyes as she rushed to depart. 

Perhaps something had come up with the scions. 

At least that was what he told himself all afternoon, realizing there was a piece of him missing while she was away. He felt himself drift from conversations, thinking about her and her far away adventures without him. What horizons did she see? Did they make her think of him? He could almost see it now as he closed his eyes; Kiri eagerly pointing out constellations in a foreign sky and telling him stories of her travels. He could almost hear the laughter in her voice while they cuddled close beside a fire, sharing a meal and drink in unknown wilds. 

Just as his mind began to wander from him, shouts from the pier snapped him back. Slowly he roused from his stool to look toward the docks only to see a sail of a boat folding in. A small boat, to be sure, but so late? The prince abandoned his work out of curiosity, only the little blossom still in his hand coming along for the ride. 

The little harbor of the enclave had a few fishermen helping tie the newly arrived boat down, pulling it flush against the stonework for the passengers to step out. Hien arrived in time to spy Az’hala and Isho, Kiri’s companions, help an older Roegadyn man off the boat. Isho, who had been stationed in Kugane, met Hien’s eyes with a look of ice. The Au Ra always had an unflinching, stoic expression to him, but this? This was unsettling. 

“Friends! Welcome!” Hien called out, descending the few steps with leaps and bounds. His heart was practically vibrating in his chest cavity. Was Kiri with them? Az’hala’s golden eyes faltered, his brows drawing together that had Hien’s smile wavering. “...Who is this guest of yours?” 

Even in the dark of evening, Hien could see the silvery outlines glittering in torchlight. The roe’s features were heavily scarred and sunken over time. He held his hands together, as if the evening breeze was cold and bit at his crooked fingers. The man looked between Az’hala, Isho, and then to Hien with sparkling, wet eyes. 

“A-Are you... Hien?” His voice trembled. 

The prince cocked a brow and shifted his weight. What was going on? “Aye. And who are you?” 

“My lord,” Az’hala ducked between them, “This is Eyriwolk. Kiri’s father-” 

Before his tense jaw could fall, Hien watched the roe’s features crumple and massive shoulders shake. “This young lad said you could help.... Please! I ain’t got much but... Please, my girl... They’ve got her.” 

The roe fell to his knees with Az’hala at his side. Isho, always the quiet one, crossed his arms and looked away before anyone noticed the fury in his eyes. And as for Hien... 

A tiny little blossom fell from his hand. 

[bougredane]

You are cordially invited to a party at Junot’s mother-in-law’s house.

From a turn-of-the-century bio on Junot, when you could scrap together some dubious memoires, some invented dialogue, some categorically unkind descriptions, cite not a single source, and call it a day.

A bit of background - Junot’s just married our old untrustworthy friend Laure and is about to ask her mother if he can invite some mates over. And he’s got some quality friends. 👌

...

Le lendemain, Junot arrive chez sa belle-mère : « Je voudrais recevoir mes amis ici, ce soir. » Une fois de plus, la descendante des Commène a un haut-le-corps : « Ce n’est pas dans les bonnes manières … C’est le fait d’un garçon menuisier fêtant le lendemain de noce à la Courtille », et à part soi elle pense : « Mon gendre ne manque ni d’esprit, ni de vaillance, mais ce ne sera jamais qu’un colonel de hussards. »

Junot tient à son idée : des amis, voyons !

- D’abord, viendront-ils chez moi qu’ils ne connaissent pas ?

- Sans aucun doute.

En effet, les amis, qui n’étaient point fâchés de voir l’épouse du camarade, ne firent point de façon et successivement Mme Permon vit arriver : un grand garçon, svelte, élégant, point beau mais de figure expressive, avec un catogan et des cheveux coupés en vergettes, bien poudrés et pommadés : Lannes ; un homme tout rond avec des gros yeux à fleur de tête, une physionomie molle et floue : Duroc ; un gaillard méridional, de belles dents, un plus belle accent, louchant un peu en portant sur le col une queue de cheveux longue et mince : général Bessières ! Suivaient Eugène de Beauharnais, joli, plaisant s’il n’eût été déparé par d’affreuses dents, ainsi que sa mère Joséphine ; Rapp, lourd, d’écorce rude et point travaillée, visiblement l’antipode d’un mondain ; Berthier, petit, mal bâti, des cheveux crépus et de couleur indécise, de vilaines mains aux ongles rongés, et bredouillant par surcroît ; enfin, un curieux magot, un Bacchus monté sur de petites jambes, admirablement chauve sauf quatre ou cinq cheveux naguère célèbres dans l’armée d’Egypte et dont chacun avait nom : l’Invincible, le Redoutable, de Courageux : l’aimable, le spirituelle Lavallette. 

De son côté, Mme Permon avait convié un vieil ami, M. de Caulaincourt, ancien officer général, et ne se doutait pas, la respectable dame, à quelles épreuves son invité allait être soumis.

---

The next day, Junot arrives at his mother in law’s house : « I would like to receive my friends here, this evening. » Once again, the descendant of the Byzantine Emperors has a start : « It’s not good manners… it’s the act of a blue-collar boy celebrating the day after the wedding at la Courtille » and to herself she thinks : « My son in law lacks neither wit nor valour, but he’ll never be anything but a hussard colonel. »

Junot sticks to his guns : C’mon, my friends !

- First of all, will they come to my house - that of a woman they don’t know ?

- Oh, without a doubt.

Indeed, the friends, who were not at all put out by the prospect of seeing the wife of a comrade, did not object and Mrs. Permon saw them arrive in succession : a big kid, thin, elegant, not handsome but with an expressive face, with a ponytail and hair cut in vergettes, well powdered and pomaded : Lannes ; a round man with big, bulging eyes and a soft, undefined face : Duroc ; a strapping young southerner, with pretty teeth and a prettier accent, a little cross-eyed and wearing down his neck a long, thin queue : General Bessières ! Followed by Eugène de Beauharnais nice-looking but for his terrible teeth, like those of his mother Joséphine ; Rapp, heavy, with a tough, unpolished figure, visibly the polar opposite of a socialite ; Berthier, short, poorly-built, with frizzy hair of an indistinct colour, and nasty-looking hands, the nails all bitten down, mumbling and stammering as he spoke ; and finally a curious ape, a Bacchus set upon little legs, admirably bald but for four or five hairs so recently celebrated in the Army of Egypt and of which each had a name : The Invincible, The Formidable, The Courageous : the amiable and witty Lavallette. 

For her part, Mrs. Permon had invited an old friend, Mr. de Caulaincourt, who had been Officer General, and she didn’t doubt - respectable lady that she was - of the trials to which her guest would be subjected.

(She’s definitely right … the poor guy tries talking to Rapp and is almost instantly scared off, then he ends up sitting next to Lannes at dinner and thinks it’s going to go better. It does not.)

From Junot dit « La tempête » by Jean Lucas-Dubreton. Don’t want to shit on the author too much though - for Junot especially, I’ve often felt one might get a better measure of the man in reading Orlando Furioso than some of the more recent academic work done on him. Imho, it’s worth a read if you can find a copy - you could definitely do worse.

[brightbeautifulthings]

MAYHEM BY ESTELLE LAURE BLOG TOUR & CHAPTER EXCERPT

The Lost Boys meets Wilder Girls in this supernatural feminist YA novel.

Available July 14th, 2020

It's 1987 and unfortunately it's not all Madonna and cherry lip balm. Mayhem Brayburn has always known there was something off about her and her mother, Roxy. Maybe it has to do with Roxy's constant physical pain, or maybe with Mayhem's own irresistible pull to water. Either way, she knows they aren't like everyone else.

But when May's stepfather finally goes too far, Roxy and Mayhem flee to Santa Maria, California, the coastal beach town that holds the answers to all of Mayhem's questions about who her mother is, her estranged family, and the mysteries of her own self. There she meets the kids who live with her aunt, and it opens the door to the magic that runs through the female lineage in her family, the very magic Mayhem is next in line to inherit and which will change her life for good.

But when she gets wrapped up in the search for the man who has been kidnapping girls from the beach, her life takes another dangerous turn and she is forced to face the price of vigilante justice and to ask herself whether revenge is worth the cost.

From the acclaimed author of This Raging Light and But Then I Came Back, Estelle Laure offers a riveting and complex story with magical elements about a family of women contending with what appears to be an irreversible destiny, taking control and saying when enough is enough.

About the Author:

Estelle Laure, the author of This Raging Light and But Then I Came Back believes in love, magic, and the power of facing hard truths. She has a BA in Theatre Arts and an MFA from Vermont College of Fine Arts in Writing for Children and Young Adults, and she lives in Taos, New Mexico, with her family. Her work is translated widely around the world. 

Twitter | Instagram | Get Your Copy

Read on for a special chapter excerpt of Mayhem!

three Santa Maria

“Trouble,” Roxy says. She arches a brow at the kids by the van through the bug-spattered windshield, the ghost of a half-smile rippling across her face.

“You would know,” I shoot.

“So would you,” she snaps.

Maybe we’re a little on edge. We’ve been in the car so long the pattern on the vinyl seats is tattooed on the back of my thighs.

The kids my mother is talking about, the ones sitting on the white picket fence, look like they slithered up the hill out of the ocean, covered in seaweed, like the carnival music we heard coming from the boardwalk as we were driving into town plays in the air around them at all times. Two crows are on the posts beside them like they’re standing guard, and they caw at each other loudly as we come to a stop. I love every- thing about this place immediately and I think, ridiculously, that I am no longer alone.

The older girl, white but tan, curvaceous, and lean, has her arms around the boy and is lovely with her smudged eye makeup and her ripped clothes. The younger one pops some- thing made of bright colors into her mouth and watches us come up the drive. She is in a military-style jacket with a ton of buttons, her frizzy blond hair reaching in all directions, freckles slapped across her cheeks. And the boy? Thin, brown, hungry-looking. Not hungry in his stomach. Hungry with his eyes. He has a green bandana tied across his forehead and holes in the knees of his jeans. There’s an A in a circle drawn in marker across the front of his T-shirt.

Anarchy.

“Look!” Roxy points to the gas gauge. It’s just above the E. “You owe me five bucks, Cookie. I told you to trust we would make it, and see what happened? You should listen to your mama every once in a while.”

“Yeah, well, can I borrow the five bucks to pay you for the bet? I’m fresh out of cash at the moment.”

“Very funny.”

Roxy cranes out the window and wipes the sweat off her upper lip, careful not to smudge her red lipstick. She’s been having real bad aches the last two days, even aside from her bruises, and her appetite’s been worse than ever. The only thing she ever wants is sugar. After having been in the car for so long, you’d think we’d be falling all over each other to get out, but we’re still sitting in the car. In here we’re still us.

She sighs for the thousandth time and clutches at her belly. “I don’t know about this, May.”

California can’t be that different from West Texas.

I watch TV. I know how to say gag me with a spoon and grody to the max.

I fling open the door.

Roxy gathers her cigarettes and lighter, and drops them in- side her purse with a snap.

“Goddammit, Elle,” she mutters to herself, eyes flickering toward the kids again. Roxy looks at me over the rims of her sunglasses before shoving them back on her nose. “Mayhem, I’m counting on you to keep your head together here. Those kids are not the usual—”

“I know! You told me they’re foster kids.” 

“No, not that,” she says, but doesn’t clarify. “Okay, I guess.”

“I mean it. No more of that wild-child business.”

“I will keep my head together!” I’m so tired of her saying this. I never had any friends, never a boyfriend—all I have is what Grandmother calls my nasty mouth and the hair Lyle always said was ugly and whorish. And once or twice I might’ve got drunk on the roof, but it’s not like I ever did anything. Besides, no kid my age has ever liked me even once. I’m not the wild child in the family.

“Well, all right then.” Roxy messes with her hair in the rear- view mirror, then sprays herself with a cloud of Chanel No. 5 and runs her fingers over her gold necklace. It’s of a bird, not unlike the ones making a fuss by the house. She’s had it as long as I can remember, and over time it’s been worn smooth by her worrying fingers. It’s like she uses it to calm herself when she’s upset about something, and she’s been upset the whole way here, practically. Usually, she’d be good and buzzed by this time of day, but since she’s had to drive some, she’s only nipped from the tiny bottle of wine in her purse a few times and only taken a couple pills since we left Taylor. The with- drawal has turned her into a bit of a she-demon.

I try to look through her eyes, to see what she sees. Roxy hasn’t been back here since I was three years old, and in that time, her mother has died, her father has died, and like she said when she got the card with the picture enclosed that her twin sister, Elle, sent last Christmas, Everybody got old. After that, she spent a lot of time staring in the mirror, pinching at her neck skin. When I was younger, she passed long nights telling me about Santa Maria and the Brayburn Farm, about how it was good and evil in equal measure, about how it had desires that had to be satisfied.

Brayburns, she would say. In my town, we were the legends. 

These were the mumbled stories of my childhood, and they made everything about this place loom large. Now that we’re here, I realize I expected the house to have a gaping maw filled with spitty, frothy teeth, as much as I figured there would be fairies flitting around with wands granting wishes. I don’t want to take her vision away from her, but this place looks pretty normal to me, if run-down compared to our new house in Taylor, where there’s no dust anywhere, ever, and Lyle prac- tically keeps the cans of soup in alphabetical order. Maybe what’s not so normal is that this place was built by Brayburns, and here Brayburns matter. I know because the whole road is named after us and because flowers and ribbons and baskets of fruit sat at the entrance, gifts from the people in town, Roxy said. They leave offerings. She said it like it’s normal to be treated like some kind of low-rent goddess.

Other than the van and the kids, there are trees here, rose- bushes, an old black Mercedes, and some bikes leaning against the porch that’s attached to the house. It’s splashed with fresh white paint that doesn’t quite cover up its wrinkles and scars. It’s three stories, so it cuts the sunset when I look up, and plants drape down to touch the dirt.

The front door swings open and a woman in bare feet races past the rosebushes toward us. It is those feet and the reckless way they pound against the earth that tells me this is my aunt Elle before her face does. My stomach gallops and there are bumps all over my arms, and I am more awake than I’ve been since.

I thought Roxy might do a lot of things when she saw her twin sister. Like she might get super quiet or chain-smoke, or maybe even get biting like she can when she’s feeling wrong about something. The last thing I would have ever imagined was them running toward each other and colliding in the driveway, Roxy wrapping her legs around Elle’s waist, and them twirling like that. 

This seems like something I shouldn’t be seeing, some- thing wounded and private that fills up my throat. I flip my- self around in my seat and start picking through the things we brought and chide myself yet again for the miserable packing job I did. Since I was basically out of my mind trying to get out of the house, I took a whole package of toothbrushes, an armful of books, my River Phoenix poster, plus I emptied out my underwear drawer, but totally forgot to pack any shoes, so all I have are some flip-flops I bought at the truck stop outside of Las Cruces after that man came to the window, slurring, You got nice legs. Tap, tap tap. You got such nice legs.

My flip-flops are covered in Cheeto dust from a bag that got upended. I slip them on anyway, watching Roxy take her sunglasses off and prop them on her head.

“Son of a bitch!” my aunt says, her voice tinny as she catches sight of Roxy’s eye. “Oh my God, that’s really bad, Rox. You made it sound like nothing. That’s not nothing.”

“Ellie,” Roxy says, trying to put laughter in her voice. “I’m here now. We’re here now.”

There’s a pause.

“You look the same,” Elle says. “Except the hair. You went full Marilyn Monroe.”

“What about you?” Roxy says, fussing at her platinum waves with her palm. “You go full granola warrior? When’s the last time you ate a burger?”

“You know I don’t do that. It’s no good for us. Definitely no good for the poor cows.”

“It’s fine for me.” Roxy lifts Elle’s arm and puckers her nose. “What’s going on with your armpits? May not eat meat but you got animals under there, looks like.”

“Shaving is subjugation.”

“Shaving is a mercy for all mankind.” 

They erupt into laughter and hug each other again.

“Well, where is she, my little baby niece?” Elle swings the car door open. “Oh, Mayhem.” She scoops me out with two strong arms. Right then I realize just how truly tired I am. She seems to know, squeezes extra hard for a second before letting me go. She smells like the sandalwood soap Roxy buys sometimes. “My baby girl,” Elle says, “you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to see you. How much I’ve missed you.”

Roxy circles her ear with a finger where Elle can’t see her.

Crazy, she mouths. I almost giggle.

[ancientechos]

Wondrous Tails #8

Wondrous Tails SFW #8

Prompt: Dinner date

Ship: Haurchefant Greystone x Laurelis Thyme [WoL]

Expac/Verse: Post-canon

Words: 525 words

The miqo’te gives a quiet hum as she peers into the mirror one (hopefully) last time. Dabbing at a bit of unruly lipstick, she smooths a flushed cheek, brushes at her bangs, and winks at her reflection with finely painted lashes. Perfect.

The (very cute) red dress she wears shimmers slightly as she steps out of  the restroom in pointed crimson heels. There’s a puff in the skirt that makes it flowy and adorable, the thin straps on her shoulders a slightly paler shade than the rest of the fabric. Laurelis has done her hair a little differently this time, two braids twisted in a loop behind her head. It’s very Hingan and quite adorable and not exactly Ishgardian style, but she likes how she looks in the mirror and that is what matters.

“Darling?” she calls as she wanders into the hallway. “I’m ready!” Her husband is waiting for her near the door, already pulling on his coat over his smooth and well-pressed suit. With a bright grin, the miqo’te takes her coat and wraps it around herself over her purse.

The long furred coat comes down to her mid-calf. Whilst Haurchefant thinks she might still be a little cold, Laurelis thinks the length is just right. Not to mention the coat is warm and comforting, one of the first gifts he’d ever given her. Of course she’s kept it all this time.

“All done?” Haurchefant asks her, taking her hand gently in his. The woman gives him an easy nod, and the two depart after ensuring all has been locked.

Neither are strangers to this restaurant. They like it precisely because it’s familiar, because they’ve had good food here before, whether simply together or with other friends.

It takes only a few minutes for either to decide upon their dishes. As they wait, they make idle chatter, occasionally involving a few of the other patrons seated near them. An elderly couple in particular seems charmed by them, going as far as to formally ask their names toward the end of the evening.

“I’ve always wished to make the acquaintance of the Warrior of Light.”

-- Ah. Her expression, vibrant merely moments ago, falls. How she dislikes being called the Warrior...she is not one, but one of many. It feels a disservice to her comrades and family to --

Her thoughts are broken as her husband gently wrests the bill from her fingers. Laurelis scrunches her face in an exceptionally attractive manner as she glares at him, though there’s no bite behind it.

“That’s no fair!” she protests, ear flicking irritably. “You always pay, it’s my turn.”

The elezen male shrugs slightly. “In the end, it is both our money, is it not? So truly, I think it matters little who does the physical aspect of paying.”

The smile he gives her is too pristine for her to want to complain -- and she supposes, grudgingly, that he is correct. With a pout, she leans back in her chair, crossing her arms lightly over her chest.

“You win, this time. But next time...I’m definitely paying.”

[whitherliliesbloom]

toratora

[ ffxivwrite2020 ] ★ [ masterlist ]  ★ [ prompt #21 - foibles ]

[ illya & laurelis ] ★ [ 1,611 words ] ★ [ shijin au ]

takes place in an au where doma is split into 4 feuding clans who go to war every seven years over an important plot of land. laurelis and illya are part of the smallest eastern clan. 

the dawn azalea was known for her worrying recklessness, but it’s made even worse when it came to small, helpless animals

“Laurelis, you’re scaring the cat.” 

The gold hues of the setting sun baked the village in a warm glow, reflecting off the luster woven hair of the twilight sakura as she crossed her arms over her chest, watching as her companion a few summers her elder cooed and mewed at the trembling feline as if she were a child. From beneath the ominous grin of the oni she wore, the samurai’s eyebrows furrowed and her lips were pressed into a thin line.

It wasn’t as if Illya was against giving shelter to homeless animals, far from it. But it’s plain to see that the cat, lost and confused as it was, wants absolutely nothing to do with the larger, more humanoid looking cat person towering over it despite her already lowering herself onto her knees. 

From beneath the cover of the oni mask, the young samurai lets out a sigh when the cat backs away from Laurelis, only for the maiden to scurry closer to it.

“It’s okay! Don’t be afraid, kitty! I’m here to help you!”

Laurelis rolls up the sleeve of her pink haori and reaches her hand out to the kitten, a little one with matted orange fur and wide chestnut eyes that glances down at her wiggling fingers with some amount of curiosity.. before letting out a meow and turning away to run.

“A-Ah! Wait!” 

The young woman stands herself up to give chase, much to the dismay of her shorter, more sensible companion.

“Laurelis! Wait a moment- It’s-” Her voice goes ignored, as does her gloved hand reaching out to her friend, who has already sprinted through the village square and seems intent on chasing the cat all the way out of the safety of the bordered walls. “Sunset...” 

She lets out a heavy sigh, tilting her head up to the sky as she watches the hues of the sky grow darker and darker with each passing moment the light of the sun’s rays graced over them. Soon, twilight will be upon them, their last bastion before the moon will rise, and the dark of the night has been known to be far more treacherous than day, especially for those foolish enough to step outside the safety of their clan borders. 

She was ever the amaterasu to her tsukuyomi, that Laurelis.. and it was even reflected upon the titles they’d been granted by their foes and peers. It’d felt like forever since the two met, with Laurelis bright extroversion, nurtured in no small part by being spoiled by her parents, standing in stark contrast to her own tense and awkward nature around others. 

And though Illya had always been envious of Laurelis radiant personality, and the way she’d effortlessly commanded the attention of everyone around her.. she did also wish she’d be a bit more...sensible when it came to her own safety and the safety of those around her. It wouldn’t hurt to exercise some amount of caution, especially knowing just how dangerous Doma is with the much anticipated war nearing. Laurelis had as much grace as a bull in an antique shop.

It’s made even worse in the presence of animals. Illya has seen Laurelis been reduced to tears at the mere mention of a lost pet. And she’d been completely and utterly incapacitated at the sight of a group of ducklings waddling their way through the city while they had been on their way to an important meeting with the clan heads.. to which the both of them later got sternly reprimanded for their late coming.

Admittedly, Illya had far better rapport with flowers and nature, and she was in no real position to speak when she’d happily spend hours upon hours nurturing the growth of the handful of flowerbeds they had blooming in their village. And had she the time, she’d expand her interests further across the Eastern Clan, cultivating as many gardens as much as time and her age would allow her... were it not for her responsibilities as daughter of the founder. 

And it was that self-restraint, that burden of responsibility and obligation to her training that weighed her down, while Laurelis was ever free to express herself, pursue whatever she wished and wore every inch of her heart upon her sleeves.

But thank the kami that they got along as well as they did despite their differences.. and that the sakura of the twilight skies wasn’t nearly as callous as her patron deity of the moon as to leave her friend alone when she needed help. Laurelis’ safety and happiness far outweighed the importance of her obligations. 

With a heaving sigh, Illya adjusted the straps of her mask. She fastens the purple sageo of her decorated scabbard, upon which the surface had been painted with a myraid of sakura petals, and tucks it tighter into her obi before sprinting off after her friend. 

“Laurelis!” 

Her dear friend’s recklessness truly knows no bounds, Illya laments internally as she runs out the borders of clan walls, despite warnings from the guards and all the way up the hill that led up to the treacherous Ryurin fields. 

Crossing the war torn fields of no man’s land, Illya finally catches sight of her friend as she climbs up a hill, calling her name but abruptly stopping in her tracks when she sees what was ahead of them.

An orange feline, far larger and dangerous than the one that was mewling and trembling in Lauerelis’ arms, glared daggers at the miqo’te, and more specifically the prey pressed up against her chest. Small though it may be, food was still food, especially within this utterly cruel world - where you either feasted upon others, or are waiting to be feasted upon.

Its sabretooth is bared, and the tiger lets out a loud growl as if in demand for its food to be released, and Laurelis takes a step back.

“D-don’t come any closer!”

“Laurelis! What are you doing??”

The pink haired miqo’te doesn’t take her eyes off the tiger to turn her head back, knowing that doing so would lead to the helpless kitten in her care being put in danger, but she manages a nervous laugh back at Illya.

“I-I um.. may have forgotten my katana..”

“Kami forfend...” Reckless and suicidal, Laurelis’ little foibles were proving to be more than little, unimportant eccentricities at this point. 

Twilight bathes preys and predator alike in a rapidly darkening glow, and Illya slowly reaches her hand to rest upon the handle of her katana.

The tiger evidently has no patience to wait for nightfall, and with a loud roar, it lunges towards the dawn azalea with its razor teeth bared. And with no regard for herself, Laurelis turns her back to the tiger, shielding the kitten tightly in her grasp.

“Begone with you!” 

A flurry of cherry blossoms circle them, and the wind rises to blow them high into the sky as Laurelis hears but a single telltale sound of metal - the sound of a sword being drawn. And when she works up the courage to turn around, she sees Illya ahead of the tiger, the glow of her katana’s blade as threatening as it was comforting against the orange pink hues of the atmosphere, cutting through fear as if it were but a fine thread. The sakura petals that flew into the air flutter back to earth, each carried along upon the wind as if in an entrancing dance.

And the tiger behind her stood still, before the fur along its side and back falls off. And with a frightened whimper, the predator scurries away back towards the mountains, and Illya finally sheaths her sword.

“Illya! Are you okay?” Laurelis calls out and runs forward, an equal amounts of relief and remorse plastered across her face.

“I’m fine.” Illya responds, running slender fingers through her silken locks. Though her expression was completely obscured beneath the grin of the oni, Laurelis can tell her friend was herself heaving a sigh of relief. “That was a little too close for comfort.”

“I-I’m so sorry... I was.. I was being so stupid and careless.. If you hadn’t followed me.. I-” The miqo’te bites back her words, glistening tears pooling in her mismatched eyes that threatened to spill out and trickle down her face. 

Illya’s silence was no comfort, especially not when she could not tell from the expression upon her masked face just how she was looking up at her. Was Illya disappointed? Angry? She’d have every right to be both, and she was almost certain she’d permanently earned her friend’s disdain when Illya finally responds, her voice lowering in volume.

“Don’t worry. I’m just glad you’re both okay.”

It’s a tone of voice she doesn’t get to hear often, especially not in public.. a voice that stood in stark contrast to the pretense of a refined and mature warrior Illya has grown so used to, a pretense that has become wholly a part of her. But Laurelis knew this voice to be the true Illya, one of an unparalleled gentleness and kindness towards her that she believed she did not deserve. 

“So what are you going to name it?” Illya asks, turning as she begins to lead the pair down the hill back towards their village, and Laurelis pauses for a moment to contemplate before replying with a sunny grin.

“How about ‘tora’?”

“‘Tiger’? You mean.. like the one I just shaved clean..?”

A girlish giggle rises up into the air, along with an affectionate mewling of a cat.

“Well.. I was already reminded of a tiger when I saw his fur.. that was just a funny coincidence.”