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levi-venn · 3 months ago

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Been having Thoughts about the Mirror Batch! I picture Void and Memento with black hair (like most of the regs), and I picture Headshot with gray hair a couple shades darker than Crosshair's. Do you have any headcanons about what they look like? Or if they have any tattoos?

I'm so happy you asked! Here's your answer below. For anyone curious about these OCs, here is more information on The Mirror Squad

Physical Appearance of the Mirror Squad

Striker

It isn’t often Striker is found without his helmet and his jumpsuit which helps regulate his hypersensitive senses. However, his helmet and suit can’t protect him from the sensory overload of his own hair. For this reason, Striker isn’t just bald. He is hairless. He has pale thin cuts over his body from shakily and obsessively shaving any hair he can find. Circuit crafted a laser hair-removal device for his brother to protect his skin from that dangerous obsession.

Striker has no tattoos.

His eyes are a stormy light gray that constantly bounce around his surroundings, drawn to every sound and flicker of light that isn’t often heard or seen by his brothers.

Circuit

We actually get to see Cryptid-style images of Circuit in the series finale of Bad Batch. While Circuit's hair is cut short here, Circuit's hair tends to be up in a messy bun, his face scruffy from sheer disinterest in personal grooming until Headshot tells him to clean up. His hair is salt and pepper, the white strands borne from the stress of his augmentations.

Circuit is a brilliant artist and is covered in tattoos he applies himself. The gentle buzzing and the consistent rhythmic pain allieviates the stress of his overactive mind and calm his twitchy body.

While his skin heals, Crunch happily volunteers as his “canvas” and will sit for hours while Circuit tattoos his brother. Circuit's tattoos are a series of colorful vectors, geometric shapes, a strings of lime green binary that spell out things like “I joined the GAR and all I got was insomnia and this tattoo” and “If found, return to Crunch”

Circuit is leaner than his brothers teetering on underweight due to an instable, high metabolism and nausea caused by sleep deprivation.

Crunch

Crunch's pigment is lighter than his brothers, more freckled, with sandy blonde buzz cut and a neatly trimmed beard. His eyes are dark brown that are rumored to turn black when he is in "Rampage Mode", though this is mostly due to extreme pupil dilation.

Most of Crunch's body is tattooed at this point thanks to Circuit. Crunch’s favorite tattoo is on his chest of a Rancor wearing a rainbow party hat sitting next to a broken growth jar eating uj cake. This was a surprise tattoo from Circuit for Crunch's "Growth Jar Day", a holiday only Circuit and Crunch celebrate.

Void

Void, our Eerily Calm Soldier, has no tattoos as he does not see the point in them. “The body is a decaying vessel, temporary like everything else.” Void does, however, see the point in paying special attention to his hair. In fact, Void is obsessive about his coal-black hair (black hair in honor of Fanfictasia's suggestion!), sculpting it daily into a short, narrow mohawk. His facial hair is meticulously groomed into a devilishly thin mustache with a stripe of hair on his chin.

Void has a multi-branched, red lightning scar on the right side of his chest that travels up his shoulder. The scar is from a mission gone wrong that resulted in Headshot saving his life, earning a permanent scar himself. Void never speaks of that mission, but he refused medical treatment of his own scar, wishing it to be permanent. It was a souvenir of the time Headshot saved his life.

Nothing "moves" Void emotionally, but Headshot's self-sacrifice was a fascinating event he thinks of often.

Headshot (CX-2)

Above is concept art for CX-2 ("Sniper Clone") by Dawn Carlos for the official Star Wars Bad Batch Episode Guide.

Headshot is the only Mirror Squad member that kept his appearance as close to a Regulation Clone as possible. It helped diffuse tension between his brothers and the Regs since the Regs saw him as a “familiar face”. This conscious choice was also part of his larger plan to convince more Regs to defecting from the GAR (a plan that ultimately sealed his and his squad's fate to be put On Ice, their memories wiped, and become CX Troopers).

Headshot's facial scar came from an IG-100 MagnaGuard's electro staff, a scar he earned saving Void from a fatal blow. Under normal circumstances, Void doesn’t aid his squad unless directed by Headshot, but on this mission the injured Void scooped up his unconscious brother and carried him back to base himself. Void nursed Headshot back to health personally, firing warning shots at any medics who tried to approach.

Most of Headshot’s wound healed, leaving only a single long facial scar.

Void never talks about the incident, but the squad noticed Void was quicker to obey Headshot's directions after that day.

***

Thank you again for the ask @fanfictasia. These characters are so much fun to explore and they develop just a little more with every ask!

#the bad batch #tbb #bad batch mirror squad #mirror squad #cx-2 #cx2 #tbb cx 2 #Can I call them OCs?#Technically they're canon I am just filling in the blanks of these mysterious CX clones #adjusts goggles because they said “technically”#tbb ocs #clone oc #clone trooper oc

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rae-gar-targaryen · 2 years ago

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sin adorno o flores | without decoration or flowers [mickey "fanboy" garcia x fem!reader]

Summary: Some soapy, sinful sweetness in the bathtub with Fanboy. (Thanks to @fanboys-fangirl for this one).

Pairing: Mickey ‘Fanboy’ Garcia x fem!civilian!reader (aka “Cielo;” as always no use of y/n – my readers are written ambiguous, but with a latina!reader in mind.)

Warnings: improbable bathtub shenanigans, adult content so 18+, fingering, allusions to smut, it’s unedited and probably terrible please don’t disown me.

Word Count: 1.7k of a sudsy, sexy solution to insomnia.

Neither of you were immune to a sleepless night here and there.

Mickey knew you were prone to late night bouts of inspiration, slipping from your bedsheets to go draw. Prising yourself from his arms and leaving him with the lingering heat of your skin against his, dreams of sunlight and artist’s graceful hands dancing in his head.

And he would sometimes wake, the anxious itch that he had overslept or missed his alarm causing him to jolt awake at 2 a.m., damning him to spend the remainder of the witching hour tossing and turning. Restless nights when he was away were spent with wisps of you in his arms, in the form of imagination. Longing for the feel of your skin against his, despite damnable distance.

Even when he was home, sleep had a funny way of remaining elusive. Blame it on jet lag. Blame it on adrenaline. Blame it on the thoughts running a mile a minute in his head, the way the sky blurs past the canopy of his jet, an ocean of streaking, rolling blue.

Mickey's thoughts are muddled as he slips from your shared bed, careful not to disturb you as you continue to snooze on -- and were you dreaming of him? Your thoughts spinning, spilling into your pillow to piece together from dreams into shareable thoughts when you wake, an easy smile detectable on your lips through the 2 a.m. hazy spell of the room.

Mickey creeps into the ensuite bathroom, cursing the transition of cold hardwood beneath his feet to cold tile as he shuts the door behind him and makes his way over to the tub -- cranking the brass tap and praying that the sudden rumble of water into the porcelain isn't enough to disturb your sleep.

You had a long day, after all. While Mickey played COD with Payback, you had worked. Taking nonstop calls from your project manager.

And you had still made time to make dinner. Mickey had helped, of course – If by help, you counted him slipping his hands along your waist as he crept up behind you while waiting for the pasta to boil. The warmth of his hands flooding through the thin fabric of your t-shirt, improbably unstoppable. His lips meeting your neck in a teasing peck, humming into your skin like tickling, tufty bee’s wings, as he watched you stir the noodles.

“You’re not getting out of heating the sauce,” you admonished, turning in his arm to press a kiss to his lips, all scorn in your voice absent in favor of a lilting tease.

“Baby,” he rumbled. “I’ll heat up every jar of alfredo I can find if you make that mean little wrinkle with your eyebrows at me again.”

You frowned.

“That’s the one,” he kissed your cheek. “Gets me hot.”

And after dinner, you’d had to go back to your project – promises of devilish downtime with your boyfriend crumbling as the evening wore on, and the two of you had gone to bed.

Now, while he waited for the tub to fill, Mickey lit your large basin candle on the stand near the tub, the smell of cinnamon and oranges instantaneously filling his nose, washing him in warm sweetness as he dropped some of your honey-oat bath milk into the tub, watching it froth and foam. He eased himself into the tub, urging his mind to sooth as the warm water seeped and danced over his skin.

–

The slicing splash of water from the other side of the bathroom door meets your ears, stirring you from lavender hued dreams of warm smiles, tanned skin, and inky curls. Of the skimming skate of warm palms rasping up the skin of your arms and shoulders. Cupping your jaw. Of the hazy promise of a kiss, even in your dreams, as smiling lips danced along yours.

It was such a good dream.

You turned in your sheets, hands seeking hands in the darkness of your room, eager to make your dream a reality --

Only to find that his side of the bed was empty. Hm.

The tinkling trail of water dripping into the tub met your ears once more, prompting you to ease out of bed and make your way to the bathroom.

Opening the door to be met with the sight of your beloved -- his curls, which had grown out since his return home, pulled back into a bun, a loose tendril sticking to his forehead, frizzing slightly at the steaming heat of the bathwater.

And it was staggering, you thought, how he managed to steal the breath from your lungs each time, after all this time, like some sort of clever trick. One that he would never share.

"A magician never reveals their secrets, Cielo," he would tease.

But he looked magical now, you thought. The golden glow of your single candle splashing across the exposed tawny skin of his arms, resting against the porcelain curve of the tub. His eyes closed and head tilted back as he rested in the warm, soapy water.

He cracked an eye open, as though greeting you with a sleepy wink -- still cheeky, even when exhausted. His lips curling into a smile as he took in your form in the doorway.

"Couldn't sleep?" You murmured, your footsteps silent over the tile as you made your way to the side of the tub.

Mickey groaned in response.

"Hmm, no." He opened both eyes now, sitting up and allowing the soapy bubbles that had rested there to slip their way down his chest with the movement.

"Do you want to talk about it? Or just a restless night?" You eased, crouching beside the tub and allowing your arm to drape over the side. You trailed your fingers through the water, admiring the trails you cut through the soapy water, before glancing up to lock eyes with your beloved.

“Just a tough night to sleep,” he shrugged. “But this is helping. You should go back to sleep, Cielo. I’ll be back in in a bit.”

“Well I’m awake now,” you huffed in mock consternation, allowing your brow to crease in the sexy little frown he had teased you for before. You reached for his hand, lacing his fingers through yours. “I suppose,” you pressed your lips to each fingertip between your words. “I could join you?”

Mickey nodded, swallowing heavily in his throat, Adam’s apple bobbing as he took in the sight of you, standing now to step into the tub. His hand still joined with yours, he guided you into the water as you were, still clothed in your loose, soft sleeping t-shirt and white panties.

You eased your way down with Mickey’s guidance, coming to rest between his legs, the feel of his firm chest pressing into your back through the damp shirt now sticking to your skin. You rested your head against his shoulder, sighing at the feel of being held once more.

“Relaxed?” you asked, tilting your head to look back and up at him, only to find his gaze already upon you.

His irises were the slow drip of honeyed bourbon, swirling, in the dim glow of your bathroom by candlelight as he took you in. His gaze blazing along your skin, taking in the sight of the rise and fall of your chest, your nipples visible through the thin dampness of your t-shirt as it clung to you.

“No,” Mickey bit, reaching for you and allowing his hands to slip, obscured beneath the soapy water to toy with the elastic of your panties at your waist. Gripping your skin beneath your shirt as he allowed the water to assist, turning you in his lap to face him. Your chest now pressed against his.

Mickey’s lips met yours, a euphoric rush of sweltering sin as he nipped your lower lip. Easing your lips to part with heat and bite as he slid his tongue into your mouth, one hand at the back of your neck and one at the curve of the small of your back, keeping your hips pressed to his.

He released your lips from his, his eyes taking you in, wild and wanton – the sections of hair dampened by his touch, your kiss-swollen lips. Your blown, doe-eyes glimmering like bottle-glass in the dim light of the bathroom. He reveled in the feel of the rise and fall of your chest as against his, the feel of your pebbled nipples. Of the now-soaked shirt clinging to your every dip and curve.

“Gonna kiss me again, Romeo?” you asked, breathlessly.

Mickey smiled, a fox’s grin. He parted his legs further, pressing them against the edges of the edges of the porcelain, allowing you to fill the space as he wrapped his arms fully around you, his hands spanning against your back. Pushing your shirt like tissue paper up and exposing more of your damp, glistening skin to his gaze as he brought his lips to yours once more.

Using his leverage as he leaned back into the tub, bringing you with him, slipping up his body from your space between his legs. Your panties soaked through and clinging to you as you rolled your hips, begging for some friction as he continued to kiss you.

You brought your hands up the firm plane of his chest, allowing them to rest there as you parted your lips from his, taking in the glow-lit sight of your beloved below you.

And there it was again, you thought. The magician’s trick.

Mickey was still smirking at you through lust-blown eyes as one of his hands wandered from the small of your back. One hand to your neck as he kissed you again, tugging at the collar of your t-shirt, tugging it aside to press a kiss to your collarbone, a sly, sensational little thing – the feeling of his lips on your skin. The other hand moved toward your waist, inching toward your center, a thick finger snapping the waist of your panties against your slick, heated skin, the action muffled by the warm-but-cooling bathwater. He slid his down the front of your panties, a thick finger running along your wet slit, purposeful and cruel.

You tilted your head back at the feeling of his fingers at your center, sweet and firm, causing your eyes to flutter shut and your lips to part, the attention rendering the fluttering feeling between your thighs giving way to full, pulsing ache.

Mickey paused to take in the sight of you – of the bubbles trailing along your skin, glinting in the candlelight.

The sloshing water met your ears as Mickey shifted beneath you, sitting up more fully to guide your lips into a kiss once more as he eased a finger inside of you, stroking you gently as the water continued to roll with the motion.

“M,” you gasped, using your hands still pressed to his chest to push away, “Don’t take this the wrong way,” you rolled your hips against his hand once, a cracked-glass moan catching in your throat as the curve of his finger inside of you caused you to throb. “But we’ve gotta stop.”

Mickey’s brow creased at your words, a mild frown of his own playing on his shadow-danced features as you gently guided his hand from you with a gentle grip on his wrist.

On shaky, Bambi legs, you made to stand – Mickey’s wrist still gripped in yours as you stepped out of the tub and onto the plush bath mat.

“Cielo, if this is some kind of game,” Mickey’s eyes followed you as you went, doing his best to keep the minor crack of desperation from his voice. You weren’t the only one aching by now, after all …

“No game,” you guided Mickey to stand in the tub, removing your grip from his to bring your hands to your own waist. With a traipsing trip, you hooked your fingers through the waistband of your panties, allowing the damp fabric to roll as you guided it down your legs to step out of them, kicking them to the side. “No trick,” you assured.

You helped Mickey step from the tub, his body pressed to yours as you both stood on the plush rectangle of the bath mat. You glanced up at him through your lashes, guiding his hand to cup your jaw. Turning your face slightly in his grip, you allowed your lips to follow, sucking his thumb lightly as you kept your heated gaze locked on his…

Reveling in the visible swallow in his throat at the feeling of your lips around him. In the way the candlelight made the peaks of his high cheekbones look somehow finer. As though your love was made of spun gold and the liquid aureate drip of the late-afternoon winter sun.

“I know just how to help you sleep,” you murmured, leading him from your bathroom back to the bedroom and guiding him down onto the sheets – dampness be damned.

Mickey had his tricks, sure. But so did you.

tagging: @joaquinwhorres @withahappyrefrain @clints-lucky-arrow @inklore @phoenixhalliwell @ohmagawd-life @levylovegood @thatredheadwriter @zombieaurora @shadeds-library @writercole @ijustwantedplums @justalonelyslytherin @gretagerwigsmuse @fanboys-fangirl @siriusfahey @the-navistar-carol @jadore-andor @fanboygarcia @lavenderluna10 @thedaredevilsgirl @fluffyprettykitty @mickeyluvs @mothdruid @maxmayfield @eagerforthesky @callmemana @mxgyver @andrewrussgarfield @bioodforbiood ��@the-purity-pen @luxuryberzatto @liz-allyn @moonlight-prose @thegirlwhowritesfics @phoebe-danvers @jadore-andor @marvelousmermaid @spidervee @t-nd-rfoot @teacupsandtopgun @therebeccaw

#mickey garcia x reader #mickey 'fanboy' garcia x reader #fanboy garcia x reader #mickey fanboy garcia x reader #fanboy x reader #mickey 'fanboy' garcia #mickey fanboy garcia #fanboy garcia #tgm fic #fanboy fic #danny ramirez #danny ramirez fic #top gun maverick fic #my wriitng #mickey fanboy garcia x you #fanboy garcia x you #fanboy smut #mickey garcia smut

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jessreadsandreads · 6 months ago

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It's board games night with my potential witch friend tonight, and she gave me full permission to bring a spell recipe for dessert! I had this whole plan to do some of my first spell recipe experiments: to bake a honey coffee cake and prepare caramel whipped cream for a fruit plate, thereby appealing to both her taste-buds and her deities of choice - but then I had three nights of insomnia and woke up to a wild thunderstorm and ongoing, crashing rain, so I was not walking to the store to buy fresh berries this morning. I feel like it was some kind of good omen that I had precisely enough ingredients in my open containers to bake @aesethewitch's chocolate peanut butter cookies of self-love instead - as in, there was exactly a cup of peanut butter left in the jar, there was exactly half a cup of shortening left, etcetera. I love 'em, my partner loves' em, and my friend certainly going to love 'em this evening!

#kitchen witchcraft #spell recipe

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sweet-self-indulgence · 19 days ago

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I got insomnia on the wheel, could you do it for Damien?

Yes! I had a lot of fun making Damien my kind of insomniac!

Damien's Insomnia

Ever have too many thoughts running through your head to sleep? Imagine how a mind-reader feels.

Damien sighs. It had been a long day. His mind reading had decided to be extra sensitive today, which means he spent most of it laying in the spot in the yard that was furthest from most other people.

Matthew had brought out breakfast, and James lunch. Sam had even tried to chase away the squirrels, which was sweet, if counterproductive given his method of yelling as loudly as he could. Mika sat quietly with him for a while, thinking through episodes of her favorite TV show to distract him while letting him slowly sip energy from their intertwined hands. Eventually she found Erik, and they wheedled him until he agreed to let Erik place a low barrier in his mind.

With the spell in place, Damien had been able to function most of the afternoon, but now he’s exhausted. Emotionally, physically, and demonically drained.

He heaves another sigh and tears his gaze away from the reflection of the bags under his eyes. It’s only 9:30pm, but he’s too depleted to care about his sleep schedule.

Damien trudges to bed and collapses onto it. He drapes an arm over his eyes and wills peaceful unconsciousness to take him.

Thoughts stampede through his head, demanding his attention. Damien can feel his irritation ticking up as he fails to ignore them. Instead, each passing observation made by the other residents of the mansion requires acknowledgement. Only adding to the clutter in his mind.

“… we can up it in the fourth quarter…”, James is reading some financial reports.

“… almost out of butter…”, Matthew must be meal planning.

“… One and two and three and..”, Erik does that when he plays piano.

“…shoulders down, elbows in…”, Sam is working on his tai chi form.

“… He went up the bed so early…”, Mika’s worried about him.

Suddenly, a dial in his brain is cranked all the way up. He can’t move, he can’t speak, can’t think. The world is only the static of a thousand overlapping thoughts all at once.

All Damien can do is lay there as his senses are assaulted. Images, perceptions and imaginings strobe in his mind’s eye. Too fast and too jumbled to interpret. Sound is too loud; any coherent words are drowned out by the sheer volume of everything else. The old mansion creaks as it settles, the noise is magnified by each individual perception of it. Damien gasps as the echo seems to stab him directly in the temples. The sharp feeling returns again and again.

Eventually, the static begins to fade. The piercing sensations dull to pins and needles. Damien is able to notice that his skin feels clammy. After a time, the pins and needles fade into a vibration. His face feels cold after his arm flops down to the bed beside him.

Then, finally, a moment of quiet. Mice notice scents in the garbage, and cicadas hear each other’s calls. These are distant sensations, almost too far away to make out entirely. Damien lets himself ponder the smell of maple syrup and the sound of beating wings for a few minutes, before gathering his will power to ignore them.

His brain feels hollow. His own thoughts materialize into complete sentences and bounce around inside his skull.

“Ow my head”

“Was that the worst that’s ever been?”

“No, surely it was when father…”

“Did Matthew put the jar of syrup in the trash without rinsing it out? I told him the mice will get in…”

“I hate to make everyone worry”

“They must be asleep”

Streams of consciousness overflow into each other and a dull ache settles between Damien’s eyes.

“I have to put all my effort into a single thought. As long as I think about one thing it won’t hurt. Ugh, I feel really sweaty. Should I change clothes? What time is it?”

He glances at the digital clock on the nightstand, “1:30am. No wonder I feel like shit. I’m too tired to change, I’ll be fine until the morning.”

Damien continues to consciously think as he tries to unwind enough to fall asleep. He considers his comfort as he tries getting under the covers and rearranging the pillows. He thinks about what could have triggered his episode, but he tries not to think about how it felt.

He keeps glancing at the clock. Hours slip by too quickly yet agonizingly slowly: 1:52, 2:23, 3:01.

“Fuck it! I guess I need to do something so I can reset my stupid dumb brain!”

Damien throws the covers off with a huff. He undresses and wanders to the bathroom by the light of the moon drifting through the windows. He sits in the tub and turns on the shower, letting water fall onto his face until his thoughts return to quiet perceptions.

He towels off and wanders back to his room to put on fresh pajamas. The red light emanating from the clock reads 3:49. Damien fights to keep from turning his frustration into words to echo in is mind. He lays down and focuses on breathing slowly and evenly.

Eventually he cracks an eye open. 4:31. He groans into his pillow and rolls over, studiously thinking of nothing.

“Beep beep beep!” James’ perception of his 5am alarm startles Damien. He has a meeting with a client overseas that he’s anxious about being on time for. After the initial shock, his brother’s grumpy morning routine is calming. Tired muscles relax a fraction as Damien contentedly drifts along with James’ thoughts.

Just as his mind fades into the distance, Matthew wakes up. His thoughts are less orderly, and Damien feels a smile pulling at his lips. Matthew’s internally debating over whether he has enough time to make a pastry for breakfast. “He’s going to be disappointed when he realizes there isn’t enough butter left.”

Damien frowns, trying not to let Matthew’s energy pull him into wakefulness. He almost succeeds, but then Sam is up. He glances at the clock, 6:42. Sam should be out the door by 7 for his run.

After Sam leaves, Erik gets up to take a shower. His routine is the calmest. Damien lets his brother’s steady rhythm occupy his mind.

He dutifully ignores James’ anxiety during his conference call, Matthew’s frantic flipping through recipe books, and whatever song is stuck in Erik’s head. They’re downstairs so the thoughts are quiet, if not peaceful. But then Sam comes back from his run and jogs up the stairs and Mika stirs awake.

Damien shoves a pillow over his head, for all the good it will do him, and tries not to get annoyed by how focused Sam is on his stretches.

Mika wanders downstairs eventually and starts chatting with Erik. His name draws his attention, “Damien’s still asleep? It’s almost 9:30, he’s going to miss breakfast.”

An audible groan escapes him as he finally admits defeat. He slides out of bed and trudges downstairs.

#seduce me otome #seduce me the otome #seduce me #seduceme #ask #fanfiction #seduce me damien #damien anderson

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youphoriaot7 · 1 year ago

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It's already getting late when Cellbit and Richas set out to finish the tasks. There's only the museum left, but they forgot to catch it on the way back to the house. Richas insists they do it before bed, however, so they decide to take the walk back to the main square, a comfortable silence settling between them as they head out.

There's a flicker of something on the edge of Cellbit's vision. It's been there for a few hours now, constantly hovering just outside of his field of vision. But it's starting to drive him nuts, and he rubs his fingers across his eyes in the hopes that it might get the image to clear.

It clears, alright. Just not the way he expected.

A figure hovers directly in front of him. They're about Richarlyson's height, and they're following along at his side. The white hood covers their hair, coming to a little point at the top, and the blue designs scattered along the hem stick out—if in a bit of a...ghostly fashion.

He blinks. And blinks again.

But the figure is still there.

Acting before thinking, he reaches out, grabbing Richas' shoulder to tug him back a few paces. The boy stumbles, turning to glare back up at his pai before scanning their surroundings for whatever danger he thinks Cellbit sees.

The figure in white turns as well, the image flickering slightly as in faces them. There's a soft smile on their small face, and they raise a hand to wiggle their fingers in a wave.

"...do you see them, Richas?"

The kid glances around, confused, before looking back up at Cellbit with a raised eyebrow and a shake of his head. Cellbit manages to tear his gaze away to look down at his son's reaction for one second.

When he looks back up, the figure is gone.

He tries to put the incident out of his head, pass it off as insomnia and move on, despite Richarlyson's worry. But it keeps happening. When he's talking to Forever in the president's office, the little figure is crouched behind the desk, peering up at him. When he heads upstairs to talk to Mouse, they're there, swinging their legs off the edge of her bed. When he works on the Ordo late at night with Roier, they appear, running around the chairs with child-like glee. And none of them seem to notice, always glancing at him in concerned confusion if he brings it up.

It takes him way longer than it should've to figure out what's going on.

One day, the keychain on his backpack falls off. The hook gives away, and the small egg he'd taken from the adoption center smashes face-first into the dirt near his castle's waystone. And he doesn't realize it right away, proceeding about his day as normal.

When he comes back near sunset, he happens to glance down—and there it is, laying in the mud. Quickly, he crouches down, dusting it off as he clasps a hand around it.

When he stands back up, there they are. Kneeling in the dirt near the waystone with a look of pure grief etched onto their features, the figure in white flickers a few times, the translucency of their outline uncertain.

Immediately, Cellbit pockets the keychain and moves over towards the child. They aren't looking, head in their hands as he kneels down next to them. Hesitantly, he reaches a hand out, trying to touch their arm.

It doesn't work, of course, it goes right through. Ghosts aren't solid. But it must've been jarring enough, because the child looks up at him in surprise.

"You...can see me?"

It's less of a whisper and more of a breath, the words just barely audible in the quiet autumn evening. Cellbit nods, too afraid to speak and break whatever spell it is that's allowing him to interact with this spirit.

The child smiles hesitantly, almost nervous. Then, in a breeze, they vanish.

But they're not gone. Not really. He still sees flashes of white in the corner of his eye, generally whenever he's least expecting it. The keychain stays tied to the backpack—extra sturdy, now. Wherever he goes, the child follows.

Unforgotten.

#qsmp #qsmp cellbit #qsmp fic #qsmp drabble #ev;memory #fuck i made myself cry #qsmp hope #qsmp myo #qsmp memory #sorry i just cannot stop thinking about little myo #and every time cellbit goes into 3rd person pov and i see that egg i get all in my feels again #this isn't as coherent as some of my other little drabbles #but it's an idea i've seen bouncing around the fandom and i wanted to try

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thequeercircle · 1 year ago

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Virgil’s Curse of “Your Actions Have Consequences”

To catch your enemy in a web of their own making; expose them for their lies, deceit, abuse, or other bullshit for which the consequences are misfortune, misery, and perhaps even ostracization for their actions.

This is a very strong, multifaceted spell. Use it wisely, protect yourself, and most importantly: Find some comfort and maybe even some joy in the fact that your target has what’s coming to them, and they will soon be seen for who exactly they are.

Items:

Black box with mirrors lining the inside. (this can be as fancy or thrifty as you want. You can use a wooden box with mirrors lining the inside. You can line a shoebox with aluminum foil and paint the outside black. You can make a box out of black paper and glue some pieces of mirror or other reflective coating to the inside. Jars can work too: As long as your vessel can be painted black, is sealable, and has some sort of reflective interior, you’re good to go.)

Hematite: attract negativity

Garnet: so others may see them for what they are, and side with you

Sulfur powder: for chaos, cursing, attracting negativity to target

Black Pepper: to cause trouble

Cayenne Pepper: to bring about pain, anxiety, and strength to the spell

Red pepper flakes: To injure their pride, attract misfortune, cause pain

Thistle thorns: to stick the curse to the target, fill their lives with sharp, hurtful experiences, and to promote helplessness (anything pointy and sharp will work fine. I used thistle from my yard specifically because it’s a blight on my garden, a nuisance, and hurts like hell every time I try to pull them up even while wearing gloves, which is exactly the vibe I’m going for here)

Foxtails: To stick the spell to the target, to be a nuisance, to cause discomfort (once again, anything that fits this description works fine. Thistles, thorns, burrs, anything that likes to stick to you and your pets and is a pain to get off will work.)

Lavender: depression, restlessness

Rosemary: taint their dreams, cause paranoia, cloud their vision

Ginger: bitterness, strengthen spell

Coffee beans: awaken the target, strengthen the spell, promote anxiety and insomnia

Dragon’s blood incense and ash: bring unwanted attention, expose them for who they are, destroy all that’s good in their life, adds additional power to your spell

Black fabric

Red thread

Red or black candle

Paper with name of target

Optional: Paper with sigil of of your choice (can be for misfortune, misery, revenge, exposure, anything really.)

Steps:

1: Gather up all your materials before beginning.

2: Set your wards or protections, cast a circle, do whatever it is that helps you set the intention of the spell while protecting yourself. Now is a good time to light your Dragon’s Blood incense to not only set the tone and start the spell, but also give you time to collect the ashes.

3: Write your target’s full name and alias(es) on a piece of paper.

3b: (optional) if you also choose to use a sigil, write this on a piece of paper as well

4: Get the fabric, and fill with the herbs, spices, ash, and papers.

5: Tie the bundle together, tie off with red thread. Make sure it is mostly ball-shaped. Seal with candle wax if needed.

6: Draw a face on the fabric, preferably a face you imagine your target making when met with the consequences of their actions. Envision your target while doing so. Envision your target being filled with discord, misery, negativity, pain, etc, and drawing unwanted attention for all that they have done.

7: Draw an ear on the side of the head. Whisper into the ear the things you want them to feel guilt, pain, misery, and chaos for. Tell them the things you want them to constantly hear within their own head. Tell them everything you wish you could say to their face. Be mean. Be vicious. Be furious. Be petty. Target their insecurities, fears, and weaknesses.

8: Place the bundle and stones inside the black mirrored box.

9: Before closing the box, recite the incantation below.

Let -name- be tangled by the web they made

Let them struggle like never before

Let them be exposed for who they are

Let them feel all that lies in store

The web is one of their own making

Woven from their own lies

Discord will follow close behind

‘Til their every hope and dream dies

All that’s good within their life

Will sour, fester, and rot

Misery befalls them with no reprieve

From their own actions, brought

Let -name- be tangled by the web they made

Let them struggle like never before

Let them be exposed for who they are

Let them feel all that lies in store.

10: Close the box, seal with red or black wax.

11: The spell is done. Now is the time for some cleansing and self-care.

When you feel the curse is done or the target has suffered enough, reopen the box, burn the bundle, and cleanse the box for later use.

Tips and Tricks:

This is a personal recommendation, but I find it helpful to handle the box while wearing sunglasses as it offers protection from the reflection of the curse coming back to you while opening, casting, and cleansing.

#curse #curses #baneful magic #magic #magick #witchcraft #spells #spellcraft

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leothecloud · 6 months ago

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A Space Cadet Introduction~

My name is Leo 🦁

Age: 24

Gender: Agender

Xenogenders: Spacegender, Moongender, Seaspacic, Cloudmasc.

Pronouns: He/Him/His and They/them/theirs

Sexuality: Asexual Panromantic

🅂🅄🄿🄴🅁 🄸🄼🄿🄾🅁🅃🄰🄽🅃 🅂🅃🅄🄵🄵

Diagnosed with Insomnia, C-PTSD, ADHD, BPD, Anxiety, Depression, Dissociation, Bipolar 1, and stress induced Psychosis/paranoia.

Xenogenders cause of dissociation.

On medication and in therapy.

On a weight loss journey to achieve gender euphoria/better medical health.

ミ★ Fun And Random Stuff ★彡

My hobbies include: Yoga, Photography, Video Games, Card/Board games, Witchy things, Stuffed Animals, Music, Books, Writing, Anime, Swimming, etc.

I love animals and have pets. Rodents are my favorite types of animals. I also have a hyperfixation on sharks.

Adult TV I like is Supernatural, Hazbin Hotel, River Monsters, National Geopgraphic, Euphoria, Strange Evidence, True Blood, I Was Prey, a ton of anime shows, etc.

I enjoy kids shows such as Bluey, Octonauts, Pokémon, Miraculous Ladybug, Hello Kitty, Rilakkuma, Gloomy Bear, and Bananya.

I consider myself an Omnist and an eclectic witch who is constantly learning new things. I practice spell jars, crystals, candles, divination, and deity worship.

#lgbtqia #mental health #intro post #blog intro #introduction #lgbtq community #mentalheathawareness #transgender #transmasc #trans men

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citrinemystic · 2 years ago

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Correspondence Spotlight: Lavender

Lavender is definitely one of my go-to herbs for magical spells and workings. It's fairly versatile since it can be consumed (typically in tea or syrup form) and frequently features in perfumes, lotions and other cosmetics, as well as candles and other smelly things.

Lavender, genus Lavandula, is a member of the mint family. Etymologically speaking, its name derives from the latin "lavare", meaning "to wash", and it was frequently used in the laundering of clothes. This is both interesting and unsurprising since lavender is frequently associated with cleansing in witchy spaces.

Quoting directly from wikipedia now, just because I love one of the price comparisons: "During Roman times, flowers were sold for 100 denarii per pound, which was about the same as a month's wages for a farm laborer, or fifty haircuts from the local barber." (Because that is a logical measurement of how much things cost)

But more to the point, looking at the fact that it was so pricy, it can easily be associated with wealth and luxury.

Historically, the color Lavender has been associated with the queer community.

Lavender has been shown to help with insomnia, anxiety, and headaches, as well as hair loss and soothing various skin issues such as acne and eczema.

Lavender is quite strongly associated with soothing and calming, and it tends to be my go-to for workings that involve peace.

Examples of how Lavender can be used in magical spells and workings:

💜 Leave jewelry, tokens, or other small items in a small amount of dried lavender to infuse that item with lavender's attributes

💜 Make a simple syrup with it and intentionally use it in coffee, lemonade, spritzers, cocktails, and anything else that could use a bit of sweetness (There are also syrups that you can purchase to do this with)

💜 Fill a sachet with the dried buds and leave in dresser drawers to infuse your clothes with both the scent and your intention

💜 Use it in protection and justice workings for the Queer community

💜 Keep a sachet under your pillow for aid in sleeping and to keep your dreams peaceful

💜 Drink an intention-infused lavender tea when you need the calming or soothing attributes

💜 Grow a lavender plant and work with the spirit

💜 Use in a cleansing bath (you can either use a product such as lavender bubble bath or bath salts, or you can put the buds in the water (I would suggest using a linen bag or something similar to contain it so you don't have a mess to clean up afterwards))

💜 Make a spell sachet or jar to carry with you into stressful situations

💜 Use in money and prosperity workings where the goal is excess and luxury

#lavender #magical correspondences #magical herbs #witchcraft #witchblr

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pan-hex-ual-witchcraft · 2 years ago

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I posted 118 times in 2022

That's 118 more posts than 2021!

6 posts created (5%)

112 posts reblogged (95%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@the-clumsywitch

@witchesversuspatriarchy

@the-crypid-magpie

@strawberrycauldrons

@impartial-eclipse

I tagged 110 of my posts in 2022

Only 7% of my posts had no tags

#witchblr - 73 posts

#witchcraft - 58 posts

#witchy things - 46 posts

#witches - 40 posts

#witchy memes - 26 posts

#witch humor - 25 posts

#magick - 20 posts

#wicca - 19 posts

#pagan - 10 posts

#actually useful shit - 7 posts

Longest Tag: 94 characters

#my witch friend woke me up just now so i could channel a message from one of his spirit guides

My Top Posts in 2022:

Happy Lammas! This year, my family made bread, because that's really all we can do right now with half our stuff in boxes.

1 note - Posted August 1, 2022

ABOUT ME

Hi! I'm Gemini! I'm a practicing witch of five years (and counting!) who mainly works with plants and crystals. I also work with several deities, so you may see a few posts about them cropping up here and there.

My pfp is from a funny webcomic called Crow Time!

DNI LIST

TERFs/homophobes/transphobes

Ableists

Racists/white supremacists

Trump supporters

Anti-witch peeps

Pedophiles

Sexists/Misogynists

NSFW blogs (I got nothing against y'all, but I'm still a minor.)

Xenophobes

Nazis

1 note - Posted July 22, 2022

Heyy, I've just started witchcraft... but my parents are shitholes to me in general and don't let me do things like this, though I want to... any tips for a closeted witch? thanks! and have a wonderful day <3

The first thing that popped into my mind was "be a geology weeb". That's actually how I started out - learning about rocks.

Research and incognito mode are going to be your best friends. Seriously.

Disguise your witch stuff as your newest hyperfixation. When I was starting out working with Loki, I told my parents it was a hyperfixation -and since they're used to me doing that sort of thing, they didn't bat an eye.

Other than that, I have next to no idea, because it is early and my brain is still kinda asleep.

If anyone else has ideas for @gumberrybear on how to disguise their practice, send em in!

20 notes - Posted September 7, 2022

"I love your aura!" Thanks, I snorted sage before coming here and I have six crystals shoved up my ass.

42 notes - Posted August 6, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

ANTI-INSOMNIA SPELL JAR

Lavender

Chamomile

Rosemary

Amethyst chips

Rosebud

Bay leaf ash

Seal with white or purple wax.

51 notes - Posted July 29, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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tipsycad147 · 1 year ago

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Magical Properties of Rosemary: Smart, Healthy, and Beautiful

Rosemary’s magical properties have been known since ancient times. Greeks used it as garlands on their heads to improve memory and concentration. In medieval times, it was used to fight infections. Napoleon had his cologne formulated with rosemary to stay calm in nerve-wrenching situations. Today, we can say many of these properties are proven by science. But rosemary has many uses in spellwork, too.

Astrologically, rosemary is an herb ruled by the Sun and embodies the element of Fire. Throughout history, it has been magically associated with health, love, intuition, focus, memory, longevity, youthfulness, protection, and cleansing. There are countless ways to include it in spells: as an alternative to frankincense, in spell jars, or in oil mixes.

Learn about the many uses and properties of this amazing gift of Nature and read until the end to find out how to incorporate rosemary into your spells.

Protecting yourself

Rosemary can be used for protection against evil spirits. It is especially effective to cleanse a room before practicing magic. It can also be used for home protection, as it is capable of driving negativity away. Rosemary will keep not only evil spirits away but also thieves and other undesirable visitors. Hanging a bunch of dried herbs on your door or walls is an effective protection method. For this purpose, you can mix dry branches of rosemary with lavender, rose, and mint. You can also use rosemary oil in your diffuser.

Lifting the spirit

Rosemary can be used to alleviate sadness or grief. It is a ward against evil spirits that promote obsessive thoughts. In other words, rosemary helps with anxiety and sadness. Of course, if these feelings become too frequent or lasting, you should seek medical advice. But even if you are under treatment, you can use rosemary as an alternative complement to medicine –burned, in oils, or carried in a small pouch. As an easy spell, wrap ground up rosemary leaves in a piece of linen cloth and attach the bundle to your right arm. This is a well-known trick to dispel sadness. You will feel lighter and merrier when you use it.

Sleeping better

Rosemary can be used for protection during bedtime. If you lay it under your bed while you sleep, it will shield you from all kinds of harm. It also helps with insomnia, sleepwalking, and recurring nightmares. For a stronger effect, add it to your nighttime bath so you can go to sleep relaxed and purified. Popping some rosemary into your bath is also a way of maintaining youthfulness.

Purifying the air

Rosemary is known to be an air purifier. This property has earned it the reputation of being a substitute for frankincense. It is, in fact, one of the oldest incense. When you burn rosemary, it releases powerful vibrations. This clears the air and uplifts the people around. Another property of this herb is to expel all evil and negativity. Therefore, you can include it in incense mixes for purification and consecration.

If you like to work with oils, you can use a spell called “Clear the air.” You will need:

an oil diffuser

distilled water

5 drops of citronella oil

2 drops of rosemary oil

2 drops of lavender oil

2 drops of black spruce oil

To cleanse the air of stagnant energy, use this blend in an oil diffuser. While your diffuser works, recite this prayer: “In every corner of the room, drive out darkness, drive out gloom. Space be cleansed and air be clear, only good vibes welcome here.” To do a full home clearing, run the diffuser for a half hour in one area and then move it to a new location. Repeat this until your entire home feels renewed. You can take full advantage of your time by clearing clutter and organizing your space while the mist does its job. You can also use this mist to cleanse your crystals and other objects.

If you prefer working with fresh herbs, sprinkle salt water with a sprinkler made of fresh sprigs of mint, marjoram, and rosemary to rid a place of all evil.

Accentuating your beauty

Rosemary is widely used for love and lust incenses and mixtures. It is known to highlight beauty features when applied in different ways. For example, you can add it to your bath to preserve youthfulness. Also, you can prepare hair rinses or skin tonics to help you achieve a healthy glow. But be careful: check your allergies before applying directly to your body!

You can also make a spell spray with cedarwood, lavender, rosemary, and water. This mix is known as “Mermaid Spray”. If you spray it on your scalp, it helps you detangle hair knots and tame a wild mane. It will also give the appearance of thick, healthy hair. Due to its ingredients, Mermaid Spray can double as a purification and energy cleansing spray. Carry it along every day and use it whenever you feel like it.

Improving health

Rosemary is known for emitting curative vibrations. One of the many properties of this herb is aiding the immune system. Rosemary leaves and juniper berries are often burned in rooms where sick people rest to promote healing. However, just carrying a bunch of leaves with you can help you keep healthy. You can use a small pouch or a spell jar. Prepared as an infusion, it helps relieve headaches. You can simply drink it as tea. Also, you can use this rosemary infusion to wash your hands before healing work. Rosemary is also associated with longevity.

An actual spell for health and protection is an oil blend known as “Death’s Own Cloak.” Its name can be shocking, but it has a curious (and probably familiar) origin. It comes from a fable of three brothers who cheated death with magic. One of them went on to live a long and happy life insured by death’s own cloak of invisibility. This oil mixture will not actually hide you from death. But it combines immune-supporting oils and defensive magic. You will need:

6 drops of clove oil

6 drops of eucalyptus oil

6 drops of rosemary oil

3 drops of lemon oil

3 drops of tea tree oil

1 drop of cassia oil

carrier oil (you can use almond, jojoba, coconut, or olive oil, among others)

1 glass bottle or dropper (15 mL is the ideal size)

Combine the essential oils in the glass container and swirl gently to mix. Inhale the scent of the mix, visualizing a black cloak surrounding and protecting you, dissolving anything that would cause harm. Dilute with the carrier oil and assemble the container. Repeat this visualization and apply the mix to your feet and spine whenever you need extra magical protection and immune support.

Improving memory and concentration

The scent of rosemary is famous for inducing concentration and boosting memory. To magically enhance memory, inhale rosemary when you are studying or learning something new. Smell it again later, when you need to recall the information. A smart trick is to scent any books, papers, or anything that you need to memorize or remember with rosemary oil.

Awakening intuition

Rosemary can also be burned to induce visions and aid meditation. It is associated with mental clarity, which makes it an ideal ingredient in spells for divinatory work. If you practice divination, you know it is not always easy to sit down and get to work. Sometimes intuition and the voice of fear mix and it is hard to tell the difference between them.

For those moments when messages get blurry, you can use this spell called “Get Intuit Anywhere.” You will need:

3 drops of frankincense oil

1 drop of rosemary oil

1 drop of black spruce oil

1 diffuser (If you do not have one, you can use a small jar with a lid, filled with cotton)

Add the oils to your container. Inhale their scent and relax your mind. On the exhale, say the following prayer out loud: “I am connected to my highest self, who knows what my soul needs. I trust the signs and synchronicities that appear in my life.” Be open to receiving the answer you seek and trust your intuition. You can do this as many times as needed, during divination work.

Get creative!

If you feel confident enough to use rosemary or rosemary oil in your own spells, these are some herbs that blend well with it:

Basil

Bergamot

Black Pepper

Cassia

Cedarwood

Cinnamon

Citronella

Elemi

Eucalyptus

Frankincense

Geranium

Grapefruit

Jasmine

LavenderLemonLimeNeroliOrangeOreganoPeppermintPetitgrainPineTangerineTea TreeThyme

How do you feel about rosemary now that you have learnt about its magical properties? Do you have any rosemary spells of your own? Let us know in the comments!

Sources:

Cunninghams Encyclopedia of Magical Herbs, by Scott Cunningham

Essential Oil Magic: Natural Spells for the Green Witch, by Vervain Helsdottir

The Green Witch, by Arin Murphy-Hiscock

Italian Folk Magic, by Mary-Grace Fahrun

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beanthebugboi · 1 month ago

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Open tags :)

ok the post was getting way too long so i'm. just gonna start anew.

thank u so much @crazymadredfox for tagging me!! this is such a cute idea!! i stole ur meowth plush btw!! >:3

tagging; @roseofcards90 @sai-my-beloved @asagiri-fushimi-natsu @laveindrz @beddhead-red @megacarapa @bernkastel-ao3 @boy-yuri @icarianiscariot @trashcan-train and literally anyone who wants!!!

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ofangelsanddevils · 2 years ago

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Illusion ch 1 Awake

Liana’s clock radio chirped yet again, and the strains of a song crept through her weary brain causing her neural pathways to spark. The tones drew her out into the new day teasing her with the hope of change, of brand new experiences. She sighed, reached over and killed the song. It'd been about joy or happiness or being alive or some other such nonsense. “Ha! As if!” she half-joked knowing that she was not at all alive. She was merely subsisting in the shadows.

She lay in her bed with the tattered blue comforter tangled around her. Strong undercurrents of pain hovered over her, threatening to engulf her and carry her down to an abyss of sadness.

She played out the scene of remaining in bed for the rest of her natural life or at least the rest of her high school career. The ringing of her cell phone jarred her back to reality. It demanded that she get out of bed. There would be no camping out under the covers this morning. Liana managed to roll over and reached for the phone. It was next to her bed on the squat brown night stand that like a troll in sunlight seemed to shrink away from her outstretched hand. In her hurry to grab it, she knocked her pink beaded lamp that masqueraded as adequate light to the floor.

“Hello?” Her voice crackled as she tried to clear her throat and speak at the same time.

“Hi Liana, this is your wakeup call, you slept in again!” Her friend Quinn’s voice echoed cheerily in her ear. She wished that she could siphon off some of his cheerfulness for her personal use, but that would end badly. She would need so much that nothing would remain for him.

“Good morning, Quinn.” She sighed. Quinn generally called after class had already started. It would’ve been funny if Liana had any sense of humor, but as she didn’t, she often had to bite her lip to keep from yelling at Quinn for his awful timing.

“Should I tell your dad that you’re on your way?” Quinn asked in his polite manner, his voice full of sincere emotional attachment.

Liana rolled her eyes at the thought of her dad and his super strict attendance policy. “It’d be nice if he’d make an exception for me, his only living daughter.” Liana said rediscovering her sense of humor for a brief spell. Quinn laughed nervously. “So, I should tell him that you’re gonna be late?”

“No, thank you, Quinn, I’ll deal with it when I get there. There’s no need to set off any fireworks prematurely.” She replied, then she pushed end on her cellphone effectively silencing Quinn’s rebuttal.

She focused instead on the dominant question of what excuse she could give for being late yet again? She had no clue what to tell her dad this time. She refused to use the only valid reason that had clouded her daily life for the last year. Her only sister was dead, and she couldn’t stop reliving the last horrifying moments of May's traumatic death. Her repetitious nightmare through that memory of terror made for insurmountable insomnia, and by default affected her ability to function as a semi-normal human.

Liana pulled her small frame up, and out of the white four poster bed, pushing the tentacle like covers away from her. They grasped at her, clinging static-like to her skin, tempting her to crawl back under them and close herself off from the world. If she listened closely she could hear them whispering; “Stay. Sleep. Forget.”

Their offer was one of false comfort. It would only be a matter of time until she relived the events of last year once she fell back asleep. While asleep, the memories and the terrifying face haunted her. It was only when she was part of the waking world that she was capable of keeping the darkness locked away inside her.

She stood up and attempted to stretch away her fatigue. Her black tank top riding up as she completed the motion. She pulled it back down again. She glanced at herself in the mirror that sat on her white dresser opposite her bed, she was aware that she was rumpled. Her dark brown hair was ratty from tossing and turning, and her eyes were puffy from lack of sleep and from crying. She fought the surge of self-pity that liked to swoop in when she was feeling vulnerable, but because she survived on only a few hours of sleep a night she lost that battle every time.

To distract herself, Liana switched on her radio. It was sitting on her dresser amongst the assorted items scattered over the top like the aftermath of a jewelry heist. A rhythmic melody played out and she indulged in the diversion, nearly dancing in an automatic reaction.

As the lyrics rang out, she reflected on her previous interactions with her grief counselor and their innumerable sessions together. Doctor Liz Monroe, or Doc Liz, as Liana called her, felt that Liana needed to focus on others in order to get over her own sorrows. Her specialist's voice reverberated in her head as she chose clothes for the day from the semi-clean pile on the floor of her closet;

“You’re suffering Liana, if you continue to focus on the hit-and-run, then you won’t be able to move on.” Doc Liz had advised Liana. “You need to share your emotions with others. If you do, I guarantee that the pain will lessen.”

Doc Liz urged her to forgive the driver of the car. In her heart, Liana knew that her counselor was right, but part of her couldn’t move on because she knew May's murderer was out there somewhere, enjoying life. He hadn’t been caught and Liana wanted him to pay for his crime. Her anger at him was nearly as strong as her fear of sleep.

Doc Liz wanted her to set goals, so Liana had decided on the following goals, that she wisely kept to herself;

First: hide her pain. If no one saw her pain then she could pretend that it didn’t exist.

Second: find her sister's killer and make him pay for what he’d done.

Third and final goal: help her dad. He’d been devastated by his wife leaving right after May's death.

Her dad, had fooled himself into thinking that his wife would return. Liana had no idea what she could do to help him, especially since she and her dad had declared a moratorium on actual communication.

After a few moments of contemplation, Liana realized that she was still standing in the center of her room like a reed in a windstorm swayed by her everchanging emotions and she was no closer to being ready for class. History was her first class and her dad just happened to be the teacher.

During junior year, he’d talked her into registering for his class. She’d used the excuse that her schedule was full to try to get out of it, but he’d reminded her that she still had an open slot in her class lineup.

As it would be first thing in the morning, Liana had been torn between trying to catch up on sleep or signing up for his class. She should’ve said no, but she’d seen the sadness in his eyes. There’d been a haunted look, that she knew only too well, so she’d signed up for his class.

Liana wasn’t ready for school yet, but she’d made outstanding strides in preparation. She’d discovered a pair of jeans near the bottom of the “clean” pile in her closet. She'd found her old gray hoodie hanging in the back of her closet and she opted for that as an easy solution. A better option than picking from among the rejected clothes. She didn’t know why she kept clothes she never wanted to wear. Maybe she took pity on them. “Perhaps” she told herself “those clothes at the back of the closet will come in handy someday.”

Someday was a non-distinct moment in the future where it was conceivable that she would decide willingly to wear the cranberry colored turtleneck sweater that she’d been given two years ago.

But it didn't matter, no one cared what she looked like anymore. “They should be glad that I’m wearing clothes in the first place.” Liana laughed at her own jest. The mere act of dressing took way too much of her energy, and she had little to spare.

She’d warned her dad that she’d be late to his class a lot. It was a wonder that he was unaware that she’d been late for most of the month of October.

For Liana punctuality wasn’t quite as critical as trying to maintain her fragile equilibrium. Thankfully, Quinn was there to fudge the attendance for her so her dad didn’t realize how often she’d been late.

Quinn, who was also a senior, was one of her dad's teaching aides. They’d become pals during her freshman year and despite the fact that their friendship was a more recent one, Quinn adored her. They came pretty close to being boyfriend and girlfriend, minus the kissing. Their involvement had crept up on her like a climbing vine on an old house.

Several girls at the high school worshipped him, including her best friend Elodie, but he only had eyes for Liana.

Liana opted to make him her rock and her confidante, instead of her boyfriend. Quinn acted as a screen to block out the ever-present sadness that followed her around like an evil creature that threatened to attack her sanity at the most inopportune moments. She'd never reciprocated any feelings that Quinn had for her, but there was good rationale for that; her best friend Elodie had had a crush on Quinn for as long as Liana could remember, long before Liana and Quinn had started hanging out. It would hurt Elodie if Liana became involved with Quinn.

Liana daydreamed about things working out between her and Quinn, but she wasn’t sure that she was ready for a relationship with him. She was too preoccupied with her own life to focus on a boy, even one as nice as Quinn.

As she readied herself, her thoughts began their endless repetitive loop, like an annoying song stuck on repeat. "If only I hadn’t fought with May, perhaps May would still be alive. If I'd thought to get the license plate number, then at least the driver would be in prison now. If dad had let me drive the car home that day, then we wouldn’t have been walking home in the first place."

All of her what-ifs didn’t change the fact that it hurt like hell to lose people. That was another reason why she kept Quinn at arm’s length. She wasn't capable of facing potential hurt again. Quinn seemed to understand.

But he hinted about the possibility of them dating and being together often enough. She was surprised that he hadn’t said anything to her about it this morning.

Liana pulled on her jeans and her soft gray hoodie along with her dingy gray tennis shoes. She made sure to put her mp3 player in the front pouch of her hoodie and then she plugged in her headphones. Ever since the accident, listening to music had created a temporary calm in the storm of her life. Liana made sure to bring her music everywhere she went.

Now that she was dressed, she dashed across the hall to the tiny yellow tiled bathroom. She frantically brushed her teeth and hair.

She glanced in the narrow oval mirror for one last check. The mirror was framed in gold brown carved wood and made her appear for a moment as if she’d stepped out of the eighteenth century, except for the fact that she carried dark circles on the undersides of her eyes. For a split second Liana thought about putting on some make-up to hide them, but her dad’s class was half over which meant a strict lecture from her father afterward if she got caught sneaking into class. She hadn’t been caught before but there was always a first time.

She reached for her make-up, at the same moment her stomach growled. She shrugged and opted to leave the dark circles as evidence of her sleepless night. She couldn’t face a potential lecture from her dad on an empty stomach.

She scurried upstairs and wolfed down some cold cereal containing random shaped marshmallows. She sat alone at the large round wooden table and stared vacantly at the kitchen cabinets that ran the length of one wall, only breaking form to turn the corner and then to grudgingly allow enough room for a narrow sink and window to interrupt their dominance of the kitchen.

The cabinets were made of wood at one time but they’d been repainted so often that she imagined that they were solely made out of paint now. They were currently a dirty eggshell blue. The hardware store would offer a brighter color to update them with, but that was too much work these days.

She nearly choked on her cereal as she saw the time on the microwave that peeked out from underneath them. 7:35 a.m.

“Why do I get distracted so easily ?” She mumbled as she quickly rinsed the remaining cereal down the old chipped white porcelain sink into the maw of the growling disposal. She shoved the bowl into the half full dishwasher where it settled next to the other dishes, and she raced to pick up her scruffy black messenger bag where she’d left it lounging in the hallway.

She dashed down the hall and into May’s room. Liana’s routine for survival included a detour every morning into May’s room. It was a tradition, and it was her way of grounding herself in reality after the terrifying nightly visions. It was absolutely futile to go in and seek for her sister, as if May would be there getting ready for school, but like a homing pigeon she returned to her sister’s room day after day.

She only spent a moment in May’s room today. She contented herself by opening the white slatted closet doors and scanning the clothes that were still neatly lined up like soldiers at attention. She softly ran her fingertips across them. The feel of the alternating textiles against her skin sobered her. She glanced around the room scanning the entire contents. It was just the way that May had left it. The room was well ordered, with a pink and white bedspread, lacy white curtains, and cheerleading photos and rock music posters on the walls.

Liana smiled as she pictured May hiding behind a closet door, waiting to jump out at her as she used to do when they were younger. Liana sighed and walked out of May’s bedroom, softly closing the door on the shrine.

Liana made her way outside and headed to school. After her sister died, Liana had cried for what felt like weeks, and she’d been certain that the torrent would never cease. Doc Liz had predicted that her extreme sadness would eventually fade. Liana held it against Doc Liz for saying that her tears would end. Somehow it felt utterly wrong that she wasn’t constantly sick over the death of her sister.

Liana had finally stopped visiting May’s grave on a weekly basis after about six months. She now ventured once a month to put flowers on the grave, and to fill her sister in on her life.

Since the accident, she’d had the same nightmare every night. She didn’t want to remember, but she had the dream of the car crash as a perpetual reminder of the last words she’d ever say to May;

“I wish you’d never been born!”

Liana was unbalanced enough to think that maybe she’d wished the hit and run on her sister. "If I hadn’t said those words, would my sister still be alive?

Her only other real problem was attending the same high school that her dad taught at. She loved her dad, but it was difficult sharing the same space at home and at school.

Her two best friends, Elodie and Quinn were circumspect enough not to remind her of her unfortunate luck in having a parent teaching at the same school that she went to.

To everyone else, she was known as the history teacher’s daughter. She didn’t mind…much. That was the little white lie that she told herself.

It’d gotten harder for her though after May had died and her mom had left. Her dad used to be available but now he used the excuse of work to escape being in their desolate house. She felt cheated that her friendship with him had deteriorated so drastically.

She wanted to scream and shake him. She wanted to remind him that she was still around.

As for her mom, Liana was furious with her, but she was also jealous of her. Her mom had run away and was playing the martyr over the loss of her youngest daughter all while Liana was still stuck in high school. Mom had left Liana to pick up the pieces.

Her mom hadn’t wanted to get married in the first place, and her parents had had plenty of fights over the years about that and everything else under the sun.

The last Liana had heard from her mom was a hastily scrawled postcard of springtime in Paris with a picture of the ubiquitous Eiffel Tower. The card read;

“The view from here's amazing. I know you’d love it. Maybe you can come out next summer, after you graduate from high school. I’ll show you all of the sights. I’ll be back soon! Hugs and kisses. Love, Mom.”

Liana had ripped it into tiny shreds and thrown it into the trash. She’d never been close to her mom, but it hurt knowing that she wasn’t important enough for her mom to stick around for. Liana’s younger sister, May, had been the glue that had kept the family together.

May had been the favorite child of both her parents. May had been amazing.

May had been nice to everyone. She’d been a cheerleader, and her effervescent personality had rubbed off on everyone. People had been drawn to her.

Liana, on the other hand, was average. Her hair was long and dark brown, and she had greenish blue eyes that were a bit squinty when she smiled. She was five feet four inches, which meant that she was short, but not too petite, and she was on the thin side. And she was nearly invisible, at least to her parents.

Doc Liz had talked to her about the way she'd been abandoned during their last session a few weeks ago;

“You need to understand that everyone is in pain, not just you Liana. Let’s talk about your anger towards your parents.”

“Listen Doc Liz,” Liana said with sarcasm, knowing that Doctor Monroe wanted to be called Doctor Monroe or Liz, but not Doc Liz. “I don’t like your intrusive questions. I want you to shove it where the sun don’t shine. I don’t need your advice on how to stop missing my sister, or on how to stop being angry at my parents for ignoring me.”

Then Liana had stormed out. Doc Liz had contacted Liana’s dad to see if he could convince Liana to come back, but for once her dad had listened to her when she swore that there was no way in hell that she would go back.

It’d been a few months since she’d quit her sessions. Doc Liz still called Liana on a weekly basis to see if Liana was ready to come back. Liana absolutely refused to return her phone calls.

Liana knew what she needed. She needed May back. Liana used to talk to May, but now she kept her feelings inside and let them eat away at her sanity bit by bit like water wearing away at a stone.

Her friend Elodie tried to entice Liana into opening up but Liana always felt like Elodie was watching her like a hawk, to see how close Liana and Quinn might be growing.

Elodie was probably right to be worried because Liana had opened up to Quinn, at least a little more than with anyone else. Liana should’ve also worried about herself, she could convince others of her indifference to Quinn, but she could only ignore her growing feelings for Quinn for so long.

Liana soon found herself in front of Three Oaks High School. The sun was up but Liana could feel the autumn breeze as it dried the light sweat on the back of her neck that had formed during her rapid walk. The classic red brick exterior loomed over her as she approached the front door.

Liana found it interesting to contemplate the cracked and crumbling cement that led up to the heavy glass doors that were framed in rusted steel. She wondered if they'd ever been new. It was hard to imagine it. The broken sidewalk and the old building matched. They were friends, and probably from time immemorial. It was easy to believe that the building and the cement had come into existence like lava flow from an erupting volcano and the lines running through them were the remnants of the ancient expansion and cooling. The building had erupted first, followed closely by the sidewalk and lastly the asphalt that glittered with broken glass and refuse.

She shrugged at her imagination and opened the front door and walked in.

When Liana walked through the front doors, she saw a short staircase that tilted up to a common area which had not been redone since the 1960's. She was greeted by burnt orange carpet which seemed like more evidence of volcanic actions. A few trophy cases stood stranded in the sea of carpet lava. Liana always avoided the trophy cases because they contained pictures of her sister.

She avoided many areas of the school because the ghost of her sister haunted the halls of the school.

The rest of Three Oaks branched off of this main area. To the left were the attendance and administration offices as well as the drama and music departments that were further along the hall. Straight ahead, on the far side of the common area was the lunch room, and to the right of that was the gym.

To the immediate right of the entrance was the main hall where the library was located. Along with two staircases; one rose up while the other sank to the basement. Liana scanned the area around her. There was no one in sight. Liana usually reveled in being alone but the echoing vacantness of the school seemed more daunting than welcoming as visions of her sister walking the halls flooded her brain.

#my writing #chapter 1 #Beloved Illusion

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