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letorip · 1 year ago

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i heard your name [ii]

“i want you so, i can hardly let you go, please be mine for a time, now and forever”

===+++===

pairing: cairo sweet x reader

summary: after several weeks of trying to run in the opposite direction, you find you can no longer evade the magnetic pull yanking you towards her

warnings: explicit but gender neutral sexual content, being used both physically and emotionally, 'lover boy' is used ironic and is still considered gender neutral, implied teacher-student relationships

word count: 6.4k

A/N: definitely making another already because it’s kind of getting juicy. again inspired by pale fire and hot summer nights.

===+++===

You had always heard that people looked like their pets, but it had never occurred to you that someone could look like their house. Standing in front of Lovell Hill, it was impossible anyone else but Cairo Sweet lived there.

The building stood tall, with white towering ionic columns that reached to hold up the dark clay tile roofing like soft angelic hands lifted to the sky. Everything about the house was big, with a giant, wide cedar porch and a towering balcony that looked out over the small garden in front of its door.

You had figured Cairo was well off from her clothes and general overabundance of education, but this screamed a wealth so extreme it almost wasn’t computing in your brain. Not with your own tawdry house that had only been built two years ago and was about the size of Cairo’s home if you sliced it by a quarter.

You had seen homes like these in movies or on the home improvement channels. Most motels had the home improvement channels on the TV, and you had watched with a sense of awe, sitting on the mouldy carpet late at night with your mom asleep behind you, looking at the muted tours of the homes with a private envy.

Such grandeur was incomprehensible and didn’t exist beyond the screen and TV magic. Or, that’s what you thought until you stood at the end of her garden, with all its greenery and a few lines of flowers, looking up at the front door.

It was quite the dilemma, to knock or not to knock. You could turn around right now, save yourself a whole bunch of sleepless nights and half a brain if you just told her you felt sick and had to cancel. She’d be annoyed, sure, but maybe Cairo being angry was better than Cairo being hungry.

You weren’t all too sure you wouldn’t try to satiate her hunger, and that was a dangerous game to play. Since she had sat down beside you in class, fleeting had been slowly drifting away, and you found yourself clutching onto what little of it you had left, rebuking the witchcraft that seemed to tug you to her.

You were about to do that, walk away, but then the door to the balcony swung open, and out Cairo came, leaning over the railing with a smile, and you felt your own heart clutch to your ribs. She propped her head up on her palm, peering down at you.

“Are you coming in?” She asked, laughing. “You’ve been standing there for ten minutes.”

“I’m just looking. At the landscaping,” you called up to her, and it was mostly true, though Cairo laughed like you were being funny. You felt a blush rising to your cheeks. Fleeting, you idiot.

“It’s my parents’ house. I know it’s a bit much,” said Cairo, standing up straighter.

“A bit?” you said, the sarcasm worming its way into your voice. It was a lot much.

“Yeah,” she replied, smiling at you again all bright. “A bit.” You smiled back, holding a hand up to cover your eyes so you could continue to stare at her on the balcony in the sun, like your own Juliet.

“Can I come inside?” You asked, taking a few steps forward into the shadow the roof of her house casted over the ground. Cairo seemed to find a playfulness with the question, and you were left there like a moron, wondering why she was laughing again.

“No, actually,” she said. “I invited you here to make you walk over here and then walk home.”

“Did you."

“I did,” she nodded, having fun. “I’ll be down in a minute when I’m done with something; the front door is unlocked."

"That seems unsafe," you said.

She raised her eyebrows at you. "Why, are you worried for my safety?"

You shrugged, deciding neutrality was the best policy. There wasn't anything wrong with saying you were worried about her as a friend, but you knew she would draw some strange entendre. "I would worry about random people wandering in, to be honest."

Cairo shook her head. "Not here in Tennessee. Now go inside. The longer you stall me the longer it takes me to finish what I'm doing." With that, she disappeared back inside, leaving you on her porch. You swallowed the lump in your throat and went inside.

Cairo Sweet's house was much like her soul, in grandeur and in wealth. Even in the foyer, which was where you found yourself, the walls seemed to reach up much like the pillars, raised towards the covered sky. A grand staircase led up to the second floor, and with the soft closing of the door behind you, Cairo called out from up the stairs.

"You can go into the kitchen, I left some wine out on the counter."

You blinked. "Wine?" You said back, making sure you were hearing correctly. Cairo's laugh floated down from the second floor.

"Yes, 'wine.'" You had never had anything like wine before, though the way she threw it out so casually made you think she was no stranger to the concept.

The kitchen was the room right off to the left of the foyer, with a large bay window and some checkered ceramic tiling on the floor. In the centre sat an old gas range stove, a similar shade of green as the walls. The brass handle curved down to the drawer on the bottom, and it looked like a droll little mouth underneath the knobs.

On the white marbled countertop that boxed the stove in was a set of two glasses and a bottle of reddish wine that was three quarters full. The entire room was immaculately clean, with the perfectly angled chairs sitting around the nook table in the corner and the utterly spotless surfaces, both floor and table.

It looked just like those staged houses on the home improvement channels, and you wandered over to peer into the glass hutch, which was piled up with books in stacks around it. The top cabinet held an array of glassware, some of them gathering dust. They were pretty, and you leaned in to the ceramic ones with antique designs etched into the sides. You wanted to own dishes like those, someday.

"The plates are pretty, aren't they? It’s a real shame about the led.” You spun around to find Cairo behind you. Your heart immediately started doing a backflip in your chest. Cairo was no longer in the soft shirt and shorts she had been wearing on her balcony— no. Instead, she was now in a silky cream-coloured dress, one that clung to the curves of her body and hung elegantly from her shoulders in a way that made the tips of your ears warm.

She walked right up to you as if there was no difference, staring at the plate you had been looking at with what couldn't possibly be a genuine curiosity. Up close it was clear she had put on some makeup, her lips glossy and pink and her eyes dark. She had to know she was playing you like a fiddle.

You watched her in laser focus as she nodded at the plate. "My parents bought that one from a village in the Swiss Alps."

"What?" you mumbled, clever as always.

"The plate," she said, like it was obvious. "Most of the plates in there are from Switzerland or China."

"Oh...cool."

Cairo brushed past it, gesturing back to the bottle that sat on the counter. "Would you like some?" she asked, clasping her hands behind her back.

"But what would your parents say?" you asked. Mostly you were looking for any excuse not to, but you were also filled with curiosity. Cairo Sweet hadn't just fallen out of a coconut tree— she was the product of whatever her parents were like and you desired to put two and two together, and for that to make it make sense.

"They're not here right now," she replied, walking right over to the bottle and pulling the cork straight out. You swallowed but followed her over, and Cairo grabbed a glass to pour it into.

"So you live here?" It was a genuine question, and part of you was still struggling to understand that this was just someone's everyday lifestyle. Cairo nodded.

"That's what Winnie asked me too, when she first saw it. People say my house is haunted."

"They do?"

"Yeah," she said. "Lovell Hill. It's famous, or at least around here it is."

"Well... is it true?"

Cairo shook her head. "Sorry to disappoint. Only thing that lives here is me."

"And your parents?"

Her mouth thinned into a line at the question, but she spoke quickly. "Yes, them too." Then Cairo held up a glass. "Would you like some?"

"Uh, no thanks. We should probably start on the assignment...," you trailed off. Cairo was staring you down with a certain glint in her eye. “What?”

"You've never drank before," she said. It wasn't a question, and you could feel heat going back to your face. To any other person, you'd have no problem saying no, but to her you felt your breath catch in your throat.

"Uh, I have, I just don't want any right now," you lied. And Cairo knew you were lying, judging from the smile she watched you with. But she only shrugged.

"You can have some of mine later, then," she said, straightening up and walking out of the kitchen. You followed her like a proper guest, like she was a tour guide helping you through the jungle. You warily tailed her out of there and up the stairs.

On the landing there were even more books, in large, towering stacks near the railing, ended on each side by potted plants and small floor decorations. You stopped, taking a thick paperback from off the top of one stack and turning it over to read the back. “Have you really read all of these?” You asked. Cairo turned.

“Not all of them, no. Most of them belong to my parents, so they’re cheesy spy thrillers and soapy romances.”

You nodded. “My mom reads those ones too.”

“Anyways, what do you read?” Cairo asked, walking over to you and taking the book from your hands to look at it herself. You shrugged.

“For a while there, anything I could get my hands on.”

She tilted her head. "What do you mean?"

"Uh, just that my mother didn't take me to bookstores a lot," you said, having gotten comfortable with lying. In reality, you had mostly read travel books and magazines from gas stations, since those were really the only places you and your mother stopped often. You didn't start actually reading book-books until you were about ten, and your mom bought you a kindle for your birthday.

But giving Cairo the truth would mean telling her you were on the road a lot, which would mean telling her about why it was you moved so often, which would mean telling her you would probably be leaving soon, so you lied. It was typically a better idea to vanish without warning one day, off to another state like you had been one giant bad dream.

"Mm," she hummed it agreement, putting the book back down and leading the way into a door that stood at the far end of the hall. "My parents didn't either, when they realised I bought like ten or twelve at a time," she said, tugging you into her bedroom.

It was exactly like you could have imagined it, with a darker shade of green and ebony wainscoting that matched the grand bed in the middle of the room with fluffy, lush bedding and a near mountain of pillows in the centre.

"Well then," Cairo drawled. "Shall we?"

The smirk she was staring at you with sent a shiver down your spine. You gave her a cautious nod and pulled your backpack off of your back.

===+++===

You had your paper almost completely done within an hour of laying down on Cairo's bed to write it, though in the corner where Cairo sat typing hers, she seemed incredibly frustrated. You had only been observing her a little, watching her type what could've maybe been a few words and then immediately holding down the delete key until they were all gone.

You understood to a certain extent— windows were so unbelievably symbolic it was possible to go in millions of directions when writing your story. But you were almost done, and inspiration had hit you from the moment you knew what your symbol was meant to be.

You put the final finishing sentences in where they were meant to go, and put down your pen, sitting up to crack your fingers and stretch your back. Cairo looked up at you, eyes glaring.

"You're finished?" Her tone was sharp, and you looked around the room in surprise.

"Yeah?" You replied. Cairo narrowed her eyes at you.

"How," she demanded sitting up in her chair and slamming her laptop shut.

You shrugged. "I don't know, I kind of rushed it anyhow."

"Let me read it, (Y/n)," Cairo said, holding her hand out. You leaned forwards and tossed the paper to her, rolling over onto your back to stare up at the ceiling while she read it. She had one of those popcorn roofs, with bumps all over it, and you found yourself tracing a little path in your mind.

"This is..." she said after a few minutes. You turned your head to look at her sideways. "This is really good," said Cairo, but in a way that made your eyebrows furrow.

"Why'd you say it like that?" you asked, sitting up from where you had been laying.

"Like what?" She asked standing up from her chair and walking towards you, to lean on one of the bedposts. You swallowed.

"I... don't know," you muttered.

"Hm," she hummed. "I have a question."

"Yeah?"

"The astronaut. The one who goes crazy in outer space from looking out the window on his solo mission. Is that supposed to be you?"

"Oh. No, he isn't. He's just a character I thought of," you shook your head. Cairo raised an eyebrow at you.

"But he is a lot like you, isn't he? Alone, I mean. That's why you lied to Winnie about lunch." She got you with that line. You stared at her, frowning. Your mind screamed LIE over and over, but you knew there was no point. Not when she was reading you like a book. She took another step towards you, until she was standing in between your legs where you sat. You hadn't realised there was any connection with the astronaut when you thought of him, but maybe he was?

"Are you lonely, (Y/n)?"

"No? I mean, I don't think I am." It came out in a whisper; you didn't need to speak loudly when Cairo was so close. You could feel her hot breath on your cheeks like a fan.

"I've been thinking of you, since you arrived," Cairo murmured. Her fingers crawled up your knee slowly, the pads of her fingers brushing the hem of your shorts. She looked down at the small space between you.

"Yeah?" You asked.

"You're captivating," she said. "It's annoying. Shrouded in mystery and answering to no one."

"Yeah?" Pink was flushing towards your cheeks.

She smiled, looking up at your face again. "Yeah. It would be less distracting if you didn't come with such nice eyes."

You swallowed. It felt like everywhere her fingers went she left behind a trail of pure fire, churning up your insides. Your mind was screaming at you to not be an idiot. You'd probably regret this in a month or two when your mom told you you would be leaving again. Stop, right now and save yourself so much sleep, you idiot. That would've been the smart thing to do.

Her hands came up slowly, skimming gently up your neck until they landed at the nape, and you were reminded of the lollipop she had plucked from your lips to place in her own for a moment.

"Cairo, what're we doing?" you managed. Cairo shrugged.

"You ask me that but I'm not entirely sure. I just know it feels nice," she whispered to you. "So shut up and let me feel nice," she said with a smile.

Within an instant, her lips pressed hard into your own. You pulled your head back in surprise but Cairo's soft palms held you firmly where you sat, and you found yourself melting at the feeling. It was messy and it wasn't graceful, but it spoke of the passion that bubbled under Cairo's removed exterior. She started to move against you then, and you against her.

You found yourself entranced at the sensation, and pulled away just to get a look at her face. She was breathing heavily, lips red and eyes wild, and you only came back wanting more, reconnecting the both of you, your hands moving to her waist and then up her back.

"Cairo..." you mumbled, her lips moving to your jaw and then hastily to your ear.

"Mm," she hummed.

"Cairo, I can't," you managed, trying to pull away but finding her still on you. Your mind was yelling at you horrible, horrible things, not only about yourself but about what you wanted to do to her.

"Mm," she sounded again, moving down your neck in a way that left you tingly.

"Really, I just—"

"Take my hands off of you, then," she challenged, in between peppering kisses and sucking on a spot directly over your pulse. You shivered.

"I can't."

"Well, I guess we're at a crossroads," she said. Her right hand slid down your chest to the hem of your shirt, sliding gently underneath and laying itself flat against your stomach. She smirked when she reconnected your lips, knowing she was winning.

"This is a really bad idea."

"You talk too much."

"No, because this is really a conflict of interest. We're supposed to uh..." you stammered, getting distracted by he hand on your stomach slowly getting lower and lower, creeping towards the top of your shorts. "We're supposed read each other's stuff and be honest."

Cairo stopped, pulling away, raising her eyebrows at you. "Are you serious? You don't want to have sex with me —when you've been practically eye-fucking me since we met— so that you can be an honest peer grader???"

"Well, when you say it like that, it sounds stupid."

"That's because it is stupid."

"I— I just can't do that with someone."

She scoffed. "Are you waiting until marriage or something?"

"No."

"Are you asexual?"

"No."

"Is it Winnie?"

"No."

"Do you like boys?"

"No!"

"Then why? I mean, come on. We both knew this would end one of two ways."

"We're better off as just classmates, trust me."

Cairo blinked at you for a moment, like you were the most confusing person she had ever met. Then she got up off of you. Your lap felt lighter, but also emptier, and you wanted to scream up at the stars for not being able to just indulge this one little desire.

"Fine," she said, and her tone caught you off guard. Most people would probably be upset or angry, but it just seemed like Cairo was challenged and endeared. Like she was going to work out your problem and get right back to this situation, only this time she'd get exactly as she wanted.

She wouldn't, you promised yourself. Never ever. The heartbreak wasn't worth it. Cairo checked her watch. "Could you come over tomorrow too? I'm not done with my story yet, and I want you to read it."

"Uh," you thought out loud. You didn't see why not. Maybe you wouldn't be lovers, but just innocent friends? You weren't so much a monster that you wouldn't be able to stop yourself if you hung out with her. Innocent friends were much easier to forget anyways. "Sure," you said, unknowingly giving her exactly what she wanted.

===+++===

You had gone to her house almost every night for the past week, laying on her bed while she sat in the corner in the same familiar chair, typing the same bloody story that she refused to be satisfied with. It was becoming a pattern, even an unconscious one. The next day had been entirely as awkward as expected, with you trying to act as unbothered as possible.

The friendship was going better than you had anticipated, and you were very pleased with your own self restraint. Winnie had come over too, once or twice, and you enjoyed existing within the context but still on the periphery of a friendship.

Cairo Sweet would hunt you down as her friend or as her whatever-you-were, so you figured giving into one would be the path of least resistance anyhow.

She must have been an insanely picky writer. She wrote every word with an overabundant caution, like she was trying so hard to craft perfection. It was like she wanted her keyboard to drip liquid gold onto the page, and the critics to all collectively clap when she finished a sentence.

"You're like George R. R. Martin with how slow you finish a story," you had said once, out of the blue. Cairo looked up at you, offended, and thrown a pillow in your direction that connected with your face.

"I'm trying to cultivate perfection of the written word," she said, and you rolled your eyes.

"God, writers are so pretentious," you wrinkled your nose. "The only people who like to read annoying writers' books are annoying people."

Cairo scoffed. "Yeah, what, you want to be surrounded by James Bond fans? Stephen King fanboys?"

"That's cool, though," you shrugged. "Gets the point across, isn't badly written, and makes a sometimes beautiful passage along the way."

"Oh, so your writing," she joked, smiling at you. It was an innocent smile, and one that so starkly contrasted the lustful one she had looked at you with only a few days ago. Even in memory, her eyes sent a shiver up your spine.

"Yeah, well, people seem to like it. I guess I’m doing something right," you said. Cairo frowned.

"I don't get it," she shook her head. "And you still won't let me read that first one you wrote."

"It's not exactly something I want to talk about to you."

"Why? Is it bad?" she asked, sitting up straight. You knew she meant 'tell me your dirty secrets' by that.

"I just don't want to."

"Hm," she grumbled, laying back in the chair. "And anyways, if what you say about that thing is true, I don't know why Miller liked it. His book is full of the flowery stuff you complain about."

"He wrote a book???" You were incredulous.

Cairo nodded. "A while ago. Apostrophes and Ampersands."

"Never heard of it."

Cairo shrugged. "It didn't exactly make massive waves. It was ingenious though. Grand and tragic."

"You read it then?" You asked, sitting up and turning towards her.

"Yes, I did," she replied nonchalantly. "I enjoyed it."

You looked out the window for a moment, then back to her. Friends should be friends. "Can I borrow your copy?"

===+++===

"God," you groaned, reading Mr. Miller's book with it held over your head, laying on your back. Cairo had given it to you two days ago and now you were slogging through it, waiting for it to get interesting. "'Human ruins of a madman's love,'" you mocked.

"It's gorgeous," Cairo said. She wasn't in her usual chair, she was sitting by the window with it cracked open, a cigarette in her hand.

"It's not— wait, are you smoking?" You asked, sitting up. Cairo rolled her eyes, grinning at you.

"No, I'm just sitting here with a cigarette lit in my fingers."

"God. Wine and a cigarette, what are you, thirty-four."

"Shut up," she said, putting the cigarette in between her lips and puffing out the window. "And anyways that quote is beautiful."

"Maybe," you challenged. "But what is it actually saying?"

"She means everything to him and he's going crazy for her," Cairo said, like it was obvious. You nodded.

"That's the thought and THAT'S what's good there. That's universal. He's losing the plot— getting lost in the sauce— of trying to sound like he's saying something, to the point where he's losing the entire meat of the message."

"Maybe," said Cairo. "But you said one of your books was If You Give a Mouse a Cookie. Not exactly the height of literature."

"And I stand by that," You said. "That's actually enjoyable. You don't enjoy reading this, you enjoy being clever enough to read this, when it's saying something you've heard a million times in a million more decipherable ways. And those ways end up being more beautiful, too.”

"Perhaps," she said. "Or maybe I think the writing is beautiful."

"Well then, I think you're crazy."

"You're welcome to do that," Cairo replied, smile still wide. "You probably will."

===+++===

You managed not to cave until a warmer day, about a week after that. Cairo Sweet had previously been a sweet exterior with absolutely nothing on the inside for you to feel a deep pull towards. Only now, after slowly becoming comfortable, was the magnetic pull becoming physically painful.

Winnie had been absolutely beside herself, miffed at Cairo coming down and swiping you for herself. For a friend or for something more, it didn't matter. You were indisputably hers. And after a life of belonging to no one, you thought maybe Cairo took some sort of glee over making you belong to her.

Class was boring, Mr. Miller was fine, your mom seemed to be doing better, and school seemed to drone on. So when you came back to Cairo's house like normal, you were entirely unaware of how quickly you would fail your mission.

You were barely in door before she was running down the stairs, and the look of worry and surprise in your face only worsened when she got so up close to you, just for a second, and then just as hungry and hurriedly as before, kissed you with a brutal ferocity.

You were taken aback. Something was off. You pulled your head away and Cairo's palms pressed to your cheeks, thumbs brushing against the side of your face. She pulled you back and you had to turn your head away. "Cairo, what—"

"Shut up for once, please. Just kiss me the way a girl wants to be kissed."

You could feel every neuron telling you to get away from her. This was exactly what you had said you didn't want. And then there was the other side of you. The one that wanted to take her right then and then. You swallowed.

"I can't do these kinds of connections, Cairo. I told you."

"That's fine," Cairo rushed, her hand resting on your shoulder blade now. "I need one thing from you, and that's it. I don't ask for much, but I really need this."

Your eyebrows furrowed at her. "What are you talking about?"

"You've said you don't want anything, and okay, that’s fine. At least give me your body for the night. No strings attached.”

You blinked. “What?”

“I don’t owe you anything, you don’t owe me. We just do whatever this is. You make me feel good, and that’s it.” Her fingers had slithered back up to your hair, scratching gently at your scalp in a way that pulled your focus.

It just took a final glance at her face, for the dam to break. Her cheeks were a dusty red, eyes dilated and staring at you, and though you cursed yourself and your idiot Cro-Magnon mind, your palms went to her legs, tugging her up harshly and wrapping her legs around your waist.

“Shit,” you muttered, highly aware this was probably a bad idea. Cairo wrapped her arms around your neck, kissing you with a smile, and then once that broke, a passionate fervour. It was so much but it was so good. You carried her like that, up the stairs to her room, throwing her down on the bed.

She flipped you over, sitting on your lap like she had been back when the both of you first tried this, and it was all too intoxicating. Cairo’s hands went to your shoulders, pushing you back against the mattress before she leaned over, kissing you softly for a moment until it grew into more.

“Wait—” You said, and Cairo sat up, glaring at you.

“You did not get me all the way up here just to back out now,” said Cairo, annoyed beyond belief. You shook your head, tugging her back onto you. Her hair fell around you like a shield to your little private moment.

“I’m not backing out,” you promised, whispering because you felt like you didn’t want to be too loud. “I mean I’ve never … before.”

Cairo smiled at you, looking into your eyes for a moment. “Me neither,” she whispered back.

“Really?” you asked. Cairo raised her eyebrows.

“Fuck you.”

“No,” you shook your head, hand reaching up to move some of her hair out of her face. That wasn’t how you meant it. “…Really?”

She paused, eyes boring into yours. Then she gently nodded, and lowered herself down onto you, placing her lips on yours for another divine moment. It was all too hot in there. She let out a gasp when you tugged down her skirt.

===+++===

It was about five weeks after you had arrived, and you had gone to Cairo's house almost every week day, to continue exactly what had latched around your throat and tugged you harshly towards her.

There, in the milky white lighting of Cairo's table lamp, with her body snugly laying back against you and her book out in front of her, you fell in love for the first time. Really, fell in love.

Not the kind of "love" that swirls around your head as a child and wraps around the leg of the pretty girl in your class who has shiny hair. That kind of “love” where you can't get out a real sentence while talking to her. In comparison to the heavy feeling growing in your chest like a tumour, that was a mild liking.

No, this was the real thing. Adults had always said cryptic things about love, like "when you know, you'll know," and it hadn't ever really made sense, until it did.

As you looked down to watch her nose scrunch from the Nabokov, those three little words took on a whole new meaning. Her dark hair tickled the bare skin of your chest where she laid. Unlike her you still hadn't put your shirt back on, and you shivered a bit, even from under her blanket and her body heat. Her eyes, dark and focused, scanned across the paper, before elegantly flipping past the page with her thumb.

It was one of those renaissance paintings people cried for, in the Louvre, only it was playing out right in front of your eyes. And with that sudden rush of messy emotion, came the dastardly realisation that you were truly fucked.

"You're staring," she said, pulling you from your thoughts. She looked up at you, curious eyes focusing on your own. "What're you staring for?"

You shrugged, the movement shaking her against you. "What's the book you're reading?" You asked. "You seem mad at it."

She hummed, leaving her finger as a bookmark and flipping the cover towards you. The cover read Pale Fire. "That's because it's mostly incoherent rambling," she said. "Makes no sense."

You raised your eyebrows at her. "You don't understand Pale Fire?"

She tilted her head back, challenging you. “And you do?" You nodded. You had written a report during the two months you were in Maine. "Of course you do,” Cairo groaned, rolling her eyes.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You asked.

Cairo shook her head, patting the side of your leg with her free hand. “Nothing.”

You sat up. “No, seriously. What do you mean?”

She sighed, closing the book around her index finger to hold her page. Cairo shut her eyes for a second, choosing her words carefully. “I mean... you’re annoyingly clever at something you don’t really care about.”

You laughed. "Careful, Sweet. If I didn't know any better I'd say you're jealous."

"Well, I am," said Cairo. "I care about writing so much, and here you come along with literally no passion for it, and you're out-writing me."

"Uh, sorry?" You said with a smile. But the frown you saw on her face told you she wasn't really joking. Cairo scoffed, sitting up and turning towards you.

"No, I'm serious. You barely even try and you spill some amazing few paragraphs, and Mr. Miller loves you like you're his favourite student," she lamented, throwing her hands up in frustration.

"I promise," you sighed, "that I really don't mean to. I don't get it either, so—"

"—See, but that's what's so frustrating!" She cut you off. "You don't mean to. You don't mean to get in my way, but you do because you're so unbelievably perfect at everything, and Mr. Miller loves you so much."

"Okay, wait a minute," you said. "That's not fair."

"What's 'not fair' is me working my ass off until senior year to get to do what I've ALWAYS wanted to do, WRITE, and then you come along and pull all the praise and probably the recommendation letter too!"

You sat there for a moment, taking her words in, your mouth open in surprise. There had always been an inkling that Cairo was unhappy with having you in her class, but you had drowned the thought out with her lips on yours and treasuring every moment you made her smile with something stupid you said.

You cleared your throat and Cairo was already apologising. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that," she said, reaching towards you. "It's just so important to me, I get really worked up..."

"It's fine," you rushed. You knew people screamed and said nasty stuff when they were mad. It's just how people were, and it made sense to you. Your mom was like that too, with the yelling and stuff. "Do you..." you mumbled, trying to figure out how to solve her problem. "Do you want me to stop trying?" You asked.

Cairo's eyes lit up within an instant at the idea. "That would be amazing," she breathed. "Thank you so much." She reached across the space between you, kissing with a softness that hadn't previously been there. It was sweet, just like she was, and you breathed a sigh of relief, with the confrontation being over.

You nodded. "Sure." Then your gaze went out the window, realising the sun was starting to set and rain clouds were starting to form. Your hand flew to your leg, having forgotten you were only in your underwear.

"You left it downstairs, remember?" Cairo said, almost playful. When the two of you had gotten to her house, her lips had been so firmly ravaging your neck that your pants hadn't even made it up the stairs before she tugged them off and flung them to the marble bust that stood nearby. You sighed.

"Do you know what time it is?" You asked, getting up from the bed and around to the other side to pick your shirt up off the floor. Cairo also got up, throwing the sheets off herself and walking right over to her closet.

"No, I left my phone at school on accident," she replied, opening the door and flicking through the hangers. You pulled the shirt on over your head and fixed the soft collar. On the opposite side of the room, Cairo pulled out the same cream-coloured dress she had been wearing when you first came to study with her. You paused.

"You're getting all fancy?" You asked, turning to her floor mirror and attempting to fix your absolutely messy hair in a way that it wouldn't be clear Cairo had run her hands through it and gripped on tight.

"Mhm," Cairo said. "Having a guest over tonight."

"Oh. They work with your parents or something?" You said, turning to watch her with curiosity over her answer. Cairo pulled off her shirt so that she was now completely naked. She turned back to you with a smile.

"Do you like what you see?" said Cairo, and it made you blush a bit. You nodded.

"You're absolutely beautiful," you said. If you weren't worried about getting home before dinner, you would have walked right over to her and tugged her back into her bed. Cairo waved you off.

"You're too kind," she said. "Now run on home, lover boy." Cairo disappeared into the bathroom with the dress in her hand, and you heard her rustling around with the sink, probably doing her makeup.

"I... I guess I'll see you, then," you said, left alone in the room.

"Mhm," she called from the bathroom. You frowned, but did a final scan for anything you needed to take before heading out her bedroom door and down the stairs, to where your jeans were clumsily thrown over the Roman statue's head. You tugged your phone and keys from the pocket.

"Fuck," you cursed. Only around thirty minutes to get the whole way across town to your house before your mom started worrying. You walked right over to the door... only to find it was also pouring down rain, now. Dammit. You tugged on your jacket from where it had been hanging on a steel coatrack by the door, pulling the hood up.

You walked out onto the porch, shut the door behind you, and took off running, going as fast as you could down the garden and then up the street into the woods. You got about a hundred metres from her house, that was, until you stopped.

Driving right past you, barely able to see him in the storm, was Mr. Miller. Driving right to Cairo's house in his little sedan. You froze, stopping dead in the rain to watch him go. Even after his license plate retreated in the distance, you felt a sickening sense of dread begin to pool in your gut, one that was already tarnishing your prior bliss.

===+++===

part three perhaps? i also have a tara carpenter one in the works and a lorraine day that's mostly done so hopefully i'll be updating more frequently

#jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #cairo sweet x reader #cairo sweet #miller's girl #letorip #jenna #jenna ortega imagine

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vincentbriggs · 1 year ago

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Hello! Transfem person here. I haven't started HRT yet, but want to procure a 1730s menswear suit (actually decided based on your video). I would prefer not to wait for it if possible, since I don't know when HRT is going to be possible. I am, however, a little concerned about my bust size changing and affecting the fit of the waistcoat. Is that decade usually pretty forgiving in it's tailoring? I am also considering having the upper back tie like some later waistcoats to accommodate if necessary (even if it's not entirely historical), but I figured I would ask you.

Thank you!

Hello! Ooh yay! Not enough people do early 18th century, so I'm delighted to hear that! (Link to the 1730's suit mentioned.)

I think the fit would be affected, yeah. The sides of the waistcoat are easy enough to let out (and we have extant examples of waistcoats with an extra strip of fabric added into the side seam) but the curve of the front is pretty important to how it sits on you. But then, it is fashionable in that era to leave quite a lot of the top portion unbuttoned, so maaaybe you could get away with it not fitting as well, depending on what changed and how much?

Regarding the adjustability of waistcoats, some of the earlier ones actually do have lacing in the back! This red one is an especially nice example, and it's separate all the way to the top.

(c. 1740's, V&A) (Though you also do see ones with the back hacked up and a bunch of ties that were likely added by Victorians for their fancy dress parties.)

The breeches also have adjustable waistbands, of course, so I think the hardest part to alter would be the coat. The back vent is edge to edge, so there's no overlap to sneak a bit more width out of, and letting out the side seams would require re-doing those massive pleats, which were the part I found the most difficult when making my coat. But fortunately those coats were worn open a lot of the time, so even if they're not quite right when buttoned, they should still look ok unbuttoned.

It's very difficult to predict how the fit will be affected, since HRT is different for everyone and things keep changing years down the line. (One comment on this post talks about suddenly getting more breast and hip growth after 7, 12, and 14 years.)

I only have experience from the transmasc side of things, and alas, I very much did outgrow all my old waistcoats and coats. My 1730's suit needs alterations, because the waistcoat is a bit too small, and the coat seams could use a bit of letting out too. (I made those the year after top surgery, but my ribcage kept expanding and my posture improving for quite a while.)

I've been putting it off because alterations are boring :/ My pre-top surgery waistcoats are all way too small across the chest even though material was removed, because my posture was kinda bad and I didn't even notice it, and I expect that the opposite could also lead to the same sort of better posture from more confidence & comfort.

But bodies keep changing forever anyways, even without transitioning. Plenty of cis people can't fit into the things they sewed when they were younger, so we may as well make things to fit us now. Perhaps you could make the suit now, but use a not-too-expensive fabric, and then maybe alter it later, or make a newer and better one with the experience you gained from the first one!

Also I know you specifically said menswear suit, but I want to add the fun fact that women's riding habits in this era looked extremely similar to men's suits!

(Left: Maria Amalia von Habsburg by Franz Joseph Winter, right: Member of the Van der Mersch Family by Cornelis Troost.)

As far as I can tell, the main differences are that the riding habits have a petticoat instead of breeches, and are made to fit over stays.

(Empress Elisabeth Christine in riding costume, unknown artist.)

So similar, in fact, that this portrait of a young lady in a riding habit was misidentified as a young man!

Most of the petticoat is out of frame, but you can still see that it's not beeches, and the stays shape is pretty obvious. Very silly of Sotheby's not to notice!

I have no idea if you're interested in wearing a riding habit, and I'm not sure how difficult it would be to alter the somewhat looser men's coat to fit over stays, but thought I ought to mention it.

#ask #18th century #1730's #transgender #transition #alterations

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artbyblastweave · 22 days ago

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if you're still wanting to hear parahuman ideas, i do have some that i've been vaguely thinking about at work in order to maintain my sanity the most developed one is a flying artillery-style Mover/Blaster/Shaker who has a sort of slow, floaty flight ability and weak lightning blasts, but can gain improved flight speed and stability, as well as improved lightning blast strength, at the cost of building up a sort of whirling sphere of wind around them, which grows in speed, size, and force as the other abilities intensify(they get to be in a calm sort of eye of the storm, at least, and eventually they're extra safe because the wind can block most projectiles and potentially even other fliers). there's no known upper limit to the scaling, though they run into practical limits regarding collateral damage after a while, especially since the wind-sphere can sort of carry water and weather formations like stormclouds with it, once the intensity is high enough and if the parahuman gets close enough to a body of water or storm.

the primary thought process for this one was wanting to make a flying artillery cape and then also wanting to make a power with a similar scaling effect to Lung's(with a similar unknown or nonexistent upper limit)

it took a bit of thought, but i think their trigger event was definitely an Endbringer attack(probably Leviathan, specifically), brought on by desperation to escape from an increasingly dangerous area and the creature causing the whole thing. the resulting power then gives them the ability to escape or even fight the Endbringer, at the cost of potentially being their own source of massive damage to the surrounding area. i think Leviathan is the best pick here since the lightning blasts are a neat ability to get after triggering from a monster that's constantly covered in water, and their windstorm's ability to grab and carry storms and large amounts of water creates a potential flood risk, matching one of the threats posed by a Leviathan attack(plus they shoot lightning and fly around, things that Behemoth and the Simurgh do, respectively, which is kind of a cute detail).

i think their cape name is Stormbringer(or an equivalent in other languages, depending on where they're actually based in), mostly just to amuse me since it's the name of Elric of Melniboné's sword that cures his immense physical frailty and makes him a deadly warrior, at the cost of causing him personal tragedy and tempting him to violence, and then there's the literal meaning of course. i think of the name as having been assigned when they were first figuring out their power and couldn't really control it, likely causing a lot of damage on accident. as such, they don't really like the name, but it's already stuck at this point.

i don't have a specific location in mind for them, but I think they're definitely heroic, probably not one of the big names in their country but maybe well-known in their state or province or equivalent, since they try to avoid getting too intense with their power due to the associated risks.

the other ideas are a much less developed, so they can just be described with bullet points, fortunately:

Shaker/Trump with a power-scrambling ability that lets them choose between limited control over the effect of the scrambling(could be increased range, decreased range, randomized targets, increased or decreased lethality, etc) and high control over the targeting, or low control over targeting and high control over the effect(and various middle grounds). idea came from trying to figure out a directly offense-focused version of Jack Slash's unknown power(possibly even as someone who triggered during an S9 attack and got a bud from that shard), and eventually became something that doesn't quite fit that, but still seems fun to me

Wizard-themed Tinker with two primary specialties: pocket dimensions(so they can fit a bunch of different functions onto their staff) and reverse-engineering other Tinkers' tech(to get more options for different "spells"). came from the idea that a stereotypical D&D wizard-themed Tinker who "casts fireball" with a real-world rocket-propelled grenade was a fun idea, then i decided it was even more fun once i realized that they'd have to pick a set amount of many of their different effects before heading out to go do cape things, sort of mirroring the notion of spell slots in D&D.

Thinker/Trump who can choose to receive the shard-granted sensory inputs of all parahumans within their range(requires them to actively suppress inputs they don't want). sort of a nebulous and still partly undefined concept, but the idea was a sort of "Thinker command center" who can't use any particular Thinker abilities directly, but gets all the info from them and their shard helps them sort through all the input. and then I remembered that Thinkers aren't an objective category and as such it'd need to be all the sensory input from any power, which is a lot more broad. still seems pretty fun as a concept to me though.

hopefully the super-long ask isn't that much of a bother, i have a bit of a habit of being overly wordy

For the consideration of the Peanut Gallery

#neat ideas #parahumans #worm #wormblr #wildbow #ask #asks

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farewellcharmer · 1 month ago

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Although no one understood we were holding back the flood OR choose your fighter, i choose USC Trojans ⚡️

Sorry to put Take That into the mess, but they’re kind of a reason I finally went through all my TSC and TGR notes and cried a lot sorted the ones about Trojans. This song is just so USC Trojans exy team

So first huge thing we learn about Trojans is that they respect their rivals, that they’re into fair play, ready to risk to improve and have fun. Second thing is “their kindness matters”. That’s the first impression we get I guess. Which turned into unfair discourse about how they’re the good guys and therefore are kind of flat.

We learn more about the Trojans and their vibe in TSC. But even that doesn’t put an end to “boring” accusations. And that’s where I’m ready to lose it because excuse me?! They are not boring like many used to say. It's just their way of handling things is right and we know this deep down. They are nice, not without their flaws, but they are fundamentally kind. They are naturally good and talented and easygoing. That's what pisses everyone off. Like a "have a winning day" line. Like the Day Spirit Award they win every year. Like their nice smiles and thumbs up. They have a vibe of a student who hasn’t read the damn textbook but passed the test anyway, because they’re smart and lucky. It makes other people furious. But it also makes Trojans a phenomenal team.

So that’s it. What also makes them extraordinary is their talent. They’re a bunch of gifted kids mostly? Jeremy is one of the best strikers in Class 1 exy, not perfect, but “close enough to count”. Laila is a well known goalie, “nightmare in goal”. It’s Derrick telling Jean Trojans are leaning on talent, not dirty tricks. Because they’re “faster and slicker and move better on the court”.

All for the game, but not everything is about the game. Trojans try so hard to be patient with others and are willing to wait as long as it takes. Like it was with Jean, like it was with Lucas. With Xavier, when he started transitioning. Like it was with Jeremy his freshman year. Of course they lose temper from time to time. They stress out, they mess up, they are humans! But nonetheless Trojans will not rush it, they will not force you, but they will push and lend a shoulder if you stumble. They will not let you fall.

I’ve seen enough of a discourse about how Trojans treat Jean in a wrong way (show me what the right way is, I mean this is hardly possible). And i do agree with some takes. But somehow the environment Trojans provide is mostly healing for Jean. It’s not always perfect, but it’s healthy. It’s more than he’s ever had. Still it’s not enough and Jeremy can sense it. They all do one way or another, they all want justice for Jean. Trojans try to be supportive, be as gentle as possible AND sometimes they fail and it’s almost fatal. But then they try again. That’s what matters.

They can stand their ground. They’re not a team that can’t fight. They’re the team that won’t fight, like Cat said. But they protect each other fiercely, standing for justice with all they have. Like Cody calling Lucas out on subtly insulting both Jeremy and Jean. Like Jeremy defending himself and Jean during the game with White Ridge Bobcats. The simple “Careful, Jeremy” line is enough of a proof that Trojans can be mean and show their teeth. But according to Jean what makes Jeremy so interesting is “not his capacity for unkindness, but how fiercely he fights against it.” Which can be applied to USC Trojans in general.

That's one of the reasons I don't like it when Trojans are called normies (ugh). Especially compared to the Foxes. Partly because some of the Trojans are queers and you just absolutely cannot call queer a normie wtf. Partly because wdym they’re ordinary? When they’re absolutely ridiculous, crazy in the best way possible. They don’t have to be mafia related to defy expectations.

It’s so interesting, how Trojans make others mad. Even Leo Foster, who hopefully has nothing to do with Trojans at this point is mocking Jeremy. They have that effect on others, esp on other exy teams. Everyone is waiting for them to fail. Everyone is watching them intently, ready to find something, anything to expose them. To be able to see their “missteps” how the interviewer call it. And there may be many of them. The flaws, the falls. Trojans are not saints, but they keep following their path no matter how hard it must be.

You know who also despised USC Trojans? Grayson Johnson. “All Ravens did”. I love Foxes so much, they’re THE team. But I believe that the real antagonism is between the Ravens and the Trojans. We know they’ve been “fierce rivals” for a long time, but it’s not only about competition. Aren’t Trojans the ones who stand against everything EA represents? USC Trojans and Edgar Allen Ravens are the opposites in every way. Strict hierarchy vs. friendship and equality. Control vs. freedom. Violence vs. kindness. Following rules vs. following dreams.

Maybe it’s just the Trojans are everything you want to be, but can’t, not yet. Because it requires so much strength and self control and love to become what they are. So it’s easier to say they’re clowns, how Jean himself used to say before he got to know them better. It’s easier to say they’re flavorless or maybe someone just doesn’t have a taste. Like Jeremy said, you’re not born a Trojan. Being a Trojan and doing things the Trojans way is a choice. And I think it’s a good one.

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sandyca5tle · 4 months ago

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Slimeshifter HRT Story - Enquiries

I poured out of bed, forming myself into a humanoid form and walking over to my wardrobe. Today was the day I'd arranged to go and talk to Dr. Othek about the weirdness in my transition, as well as ask for any more information he had, so I'd want to get dressed. I hadn't actually told him anything about why I wanted to see him, just that I wanted to talk to him, in person, about some parts of my transition I had questions about.

I finished getting dressed and prepared to head out, quickly extending a few tendrils to grab my phone, purse, and keys from their places as I headed to the door, also using my tendrils to lock the door behind me while beginning to walk down the stairs of the apartment complex. Since starting shapeshifter HRT I'd actually found using my tendrils to do stuff without actually having to move close enough to use my hands incredibly useful. I'd practiced/tried this before of course, but it'd never quite worked before, like it did now, which I suspected was due to the fact that since starting shapeshifter HRT I've had that improved bodily connection, I kinda know what every part of me is doing - its shape and form clear in my mind - add in the ability to see from any part of my body from being a slime, and it's really easy to manipulate and do things with my tendrils now.

I stepped out into the cold morning air, instinctively shrinking a little to help keep myself warm - it was a less fun effect of my transition, not having an internal source of heat meant that the cold hit me a lot more - granted, I didn't need 37 degrees to keep functioning, but as the weather got close to freezing I'd found I had more and more problems, given I was a large percentage water. Despite retreating into my clothes somewhat, it actually wasn't cold enough to pose any risk, but nonetheless I quickly made my way to the clinic.

It really didn't take me long anymore to get to the clinic, perks of living within the city rather than having to travel to it, and I was glad to get out of the cold, quickly talking to the receptionist to confirm my appointment before being directed to the waiting room. As before, I was glad to make use of the tail hole the chairs have, something that I had come to realise was better in Hyper City than back home, but was still very much appreciated as so many places weren't great at accommodating us. On the note of 'us', as I looked around, I once again spied a few people also on various forms of AHRT, a couple I recognised from my previous visits, smiling to myself at seeing the progress they had had. I also noted that generally the creatures here were generally further along, although there were a few who were clearly just starting, which made sense I supposed, it had been at least 2 years since this had become majorly available, so there's plenty of folks who were a good ways into their transition.

It wasn't much longer quietly musing to myself before I was called up, and pointed to the doctor's office - even if I already knew where it was.

"Ah, Miss Sandy, good to see you again," Dr. Othek announced with a wave

"Nice to see you again too!" I replied, smiling

"So, I understand you arranged this appointment to talk about some questions and queries you had about your transition," As he stated this he had a somewhat odd look on his face that I couldn't quite decipher, but it almost seemed like he was trying to say more than he was "I hope everything is going fine with your new medication?" He asked, now changing to a more genuine expression, one of concern

"Oh, yeah, no problems with the shapeshifter meds, been great so far, you should see what I'm doing with my tendrils," I told him. He raised an eyebrow, a smirk appearing on his face before I quickly realised what I'd said "Just for like grabbing items and- it's like having a bunch of extra arms that can just grab things for me," I quickly explained with a slight blush "I mean, they literally are as far as I'm concerned, just thinner and without fingers," I added thoughtfully

He chuckled "I'm glad you're not having any issues with your treatment," He said professionally "But if you're not here about that then what are you here about?"

"Well, we kinda talked about it last time," I tapped the middle of my torso, indicating my core "But I'd love to know where all my slime is stored," I told him "I mean, I seem to just be able to store endless amounts of matter within myself, which I'm fairly certain is impossible, unless I've got a TARDIS inside me now, which is equally impossible," I explained

"Maybe you just have a large internal capacity," The doctor posited

"Even then I've got more mass than could reasonably fit within something the size of my core, at least not without causing some kind of issue. I mean, you've seen my dragon form, and I can go a lot bigger than that, with that kind of mass condensed into such a small space you'd think something would happen? Instead I'm completely fine, no collapsing in on myself,"

The doctor's eye's widened "Even bigger?" He muttered "I suppose you're right though, that much mass inside such a concentrated area would have some kind of effect," He agreed

"Do you have any idea how it works? I mean, you prescribe the stuff, I hoped you'd know about it," I asked

Dr. Othek looked down, ashamed "I must confess - no, I do not know - or at least not specifics" He told me, much to my surprise and horror. He looked up at my face, seeing my reaction "Before you worry, I know the procedure is safe - or as safe as this kind of thing can be - but I cannot honestly say I fully understand it." He said "I know what is healthy in a human, and I know what is healthy in most animals, so for many patients I have been able to approximate what a healthy midpoint is - of course there has been issues, but in a multidimensional nexus filled with magic, there is always something I can do to help remedy those problems," He paused to breathe "Even the dragons, the sirens, the lamias, there is enough information on each of them that I can guess what works for them, and they're close enough to some terrestrial animals that I have those as references." He let out a sigh "But, for people like you, those whose species are so far divorced from 'normal', I have no reference," He explained "I mean, of course I've tried my best, and as I told you, I believe that it's as safe as it can be, but my information is sorely lacking…" He trailed off

"If you didn't know what you were doing, why did you do this?" I asked, a little anger bubbling through my curiosity

"Because I wanted to help!" He said back to me "And I heard that the only supplier for you all wasn't exactly helpful. So I looked into it and found this company was looking for doctors to partner with to help with distributing the meds to those in need as well as making sure they were healthy, so I starting working for them," He took a pause "At first it was fine - they only had a small selection, and most to all of the effects were documented. But then, as they developed more and more treatments, the documentation on effects and standards became less and less reliable, with patients reporting more and more effects that I was unaware of, and it's honestly felt more and more experimental… And I mean that, I've done a little bit of poking around, and the medicines they're prescribing I can't find any record of them being tested properly,"

My eyes widened a bit at that, and I could tell he seemed distressed about all this, so I bit back the irritation that had been growing at having all of this hidden from me and others like me "So why continue? Why not leave and say something?"

He smiled sadly "Because I want to help. If I leave and say something, then best case the company gets shut down, but that leaves so many folk like you without your medicine," That hit home for me - I hardly wanted to give up this miracle, even if the people behind it seemed questionable in their methods. "Worst case nothing comes of it, I get fired, and they get a less scrupulous doctor who'll just go along with their experiment to God knows what end," He took a breath "So I stay, find out what I can without arousing suspicion and help my patients navigate whatever happens so they can get the body they want,"

I looked at him as he finished talking, the cheerful demeanour he'd always presented with had all but vanished, instead replaced by a man who was tired and stressed "Thank you," I said "I mean, obviously, not a fan of being given experimental meds without my consent, but thank you for trying to keep us all safe and help us,"

"I don't do it for the thanks…. but it is nice to hear it," He replied, rubbing an eye under his glasses "As I've said I can't look much more into whatever is going on, in case they decide to fire me for looking into whatever they're doing, but if you want to look into it yourself, I can point you in the direction of some information sources I've found, may as well have someone look into it, see if it's really as bad as I think," I blink a little in surprise at him "You don't have to of course, it's up to you,"

"Uh, no, it'd probably be goo-d for someone to look into it - I can certainly try, but I'm not sure if I'll find anything," I told him

"An attempt is better than nothing,"

I nodded "I'll try,"

He took a breath, pulling his cheery demeanour back together "Well! It's nice to have that off my chest - nice to have someone to talk to about it," He said "I wish I could have given you better answers miss Sandy, but I hope this conversation has at least been helpful,"

I smiled and nodded "Not quite what I expected, but it's certainly given me some things to think about, thanks doctor,"

We both stood up, giving a handshake, before I headed back out of the office, waving goodbye to the receptionist as I did so.

The walk back consisted of me mostly being lost in thought, mulling over everything the doctor had said - that, while safe, my and others' medication were unknowns, and potentially experimental, which added the extra questions of whether or not we had all been incorporated into one big experiment without even knowing. These thoughts churned away in my mind even as I reached my flat, opening the door, with my claws rather than a tendril this time, and entered, quickly deserting my clothes near the door and leaping onto the sofa, pooling a little as I let my body relax in a way I wasn't sure my mind would for a while.

I had some shit to work out.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Sorry it's been a while since the last part of this, got distracted by another project, but dw still continuing this story, and honestly I think the break did me some good. But yeah, hope y'all enjoy the first bit of this where I'm starting to set up some of what is gonna run alongside the normal transition entries of this second part of the series! First - Prev - Next Writing Masterlist Tags under the cut (Let me know if you want to be added)

@calliecwrites, @friedsputnik, @now-entering-the-goop-zone, @scrubbinn, @lilacinthefog,

@mint-and-authoress, @losttodreams, @redroversendjayover, @ariathelamia, @kanithecatdemon

#slime hrt #slime girl #shapeshifter hrt #slimeshifter hrt #shapeshifter #non-human #non-human hrt #non-humanity #species hrt #therian hrt #otherkin hrt #humanity replacement therapy #transgender #my writing

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the-east-art · 24 days ago

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Easts Trip to Oregon

Just some thoughts on places I visited and stuff. I've gone twice both for like four days. I'm DEFINITELY not an expert.

If you're driving, definitely drive along the Columbia river if possible. Very scenic.

Portland scares me.

The Rose Gardens and the Japanese Gardens in Portland are GORGEOUS. Absolutely loved it. You could easily spend many hours there. I love how the lookout to Mt. Hood is clearly meant to be reminiscent of the view of Mt. Fiji in Japan.

That being said, the parking for the Gardens was HORRENDOUS when I was there. They were building new parking, so maybe it's improved, but I didn't visit this time because that seemed far too stressful to go through again after only a year. Maybe in a couple more years it'll have been long enough I'll think it's worth it.

Astoria is a fishing city, very small and very cute! I stayed there one night and just enjoyed walking up and down the dock. There are a couple good local places to eat, although I can't remember exactly where we ate.

That reminds me though! you need to check what times places are open and closed, especially for the smaller towns! A ton of places along the coast close as early as 8 and a lot are only open for the later half of the week - like Wed-Sun. Deffo check ahead.

Oh! The Astoria Maritime Museum IS NOT worth it especially for how much the tickets cost.

The Peter Iredale shipwreck is pretty cool to see, old rusted ship at the very tip of Oregon.

The most recommended way to go down the coast is highway 101 - takes you through a lot of small towns and stuff. The scenic highway.

I went to Cannon Beach and Coos bay. They were both nice.

The Lazy Susan Cafe on Cannon beach is DELICIOUS but also it only takes cash so keep that in mind.

Swinging by Tillamook for some icecream is a classic.

Lincoln City is nice! stayed there for two days this trip. They hide glass floats on the beach, but its pretty rare to find one with the amount of people there. There's several glass stores though you can check out!

Lincoln City, Newport area you can walk along the beach looking for pieces of agate! A fun little treasure hunt. Beast done while the tide is going out.

Speaking of, keep the tide in mind! Several natural beauties you may want to see are affected by the tide. I still have yet to see the Devils Churn at high tide. Next time I guess.

Thors Well is also cool. All of Cape Perpetua is really pretty.

Yachats is my personal favorite little town. The Bread and Rose Bakery is DELICIOUS but has small hours and somewhat odd days so check that ahead of time.

If you're there in the summer and fall check to see what farmers markets might be up!

I find it pretty helpful to find good food places by googling '[town city] restaurants reddit'

The 101 has a bunch of little stores you can check out! I really like the Mossy Creek Pottery shop. obv I'm bisaed towards loving pottery, but it's a store that sells pottery from small potters located all over the PNW

Bend Oregon is gorgeous! I'm so sad I only passed through. If you're in that neck of the woods go to 'Dear Mom', it's a Thai food place that's to die for! Literally drooling thinking about it rn.

#travel log

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olderthannetfic · 1 year ago

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A common argument I see against constructive or negative opinions (even in For Readers spaces now apparently 🙄) is that they crush people's dreams of being a writer.

And like. I have diagnosed issues with rejection sensitivity, so sharing my work publicly was extremely difficult for me at first. But it was just something I had to get through if I wanted to be a writer. When I was in a university level creative writing class, I was stunned that they wasted a seminar teaching us stuff like you're/your and there/their/they're until I noticed that my classmates found it really useful. I realised 00s fandom taught me better grammar than the actual official school system, say nothing of charactisation, voice, pacing, etc. There were a LOT of resources to help new writers understand writing 101 and avoid annoying mistakes/cliché plots, which you don't really see anymore. I honestly feel like I got an expensive years long creative writing course for free.

And even as a melodramatic and oversensitive tween, I always had the attitude that I wanted my writing to be good, so if people pointed out typos or grammar mistakes I'd just thank them, fix it and remember for next time??? I never once felt "bullied" by legitimate criticism: as someone who actually was bullied a lot IRL, 00s fandom was actually one of the few spaces where I felt comfortable and safe. Whereas tbh I don't always feel comfortable with this modern culture where fanfic writers demand comments in return for creating "content" "for free" but setting strict demands for what kind of comments they want to receive. (And ofc it's for free! It's not their intellectual property!)

Which is all to say, if someone telling you "hey, maybe consider adding paragraph breaks" makes you want to quit writing forever then maybe you didn't actually want to be a writer all that much.

I think people mix a whole bunch of dissimilar things.

If you go to art/film/etc. school, you'll need to get used to group critique. It's partly about advice, but a lot of it is about toughening you up for future situations where your audience is not going to care about why a work isn't up to their standards. I think some of these practices actually can be pretty damaging. It really depends on the professor to make them constructive.

A key element is that people who are going through that are usually supposed to already have some experience and be pretty committed, so they aren't going to shrivel up and quit.

When I was a little baby writer, I was indeed pretty sensitive. Even while trying to finish the first draft of a novel, I need cheerleading or maybe goading to put my ass in a chair. The hard part is getting the words out, not making them good. So a lot of negative shit, even if well meant and useful, would just be discouraging.

But...

There's a big difference between having no interest in back seat driving from AO3 comments and opposing all review-ish conversation anywhere, whether it's bookmarks or discord servers or other archives that have more of a culture of reviews than of comments for the author.

I think you can want to improve but not want to do it via AO3 comments. You should still leave readers to do their thing outside of your comments though. Analyzing or reviewing can be a big part of someone's own fannish activity—a positive and fun hobby for them, not just an excuse to yell at the writer.

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zennx-23 · 3 months ago

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The Return of The Grim Reaper and The Hounds from Hell

“Ken?! Daigo!?” Valt’s eyes widened.

“Hey Valt!” Ken smiled.

“Long time no see.” Daigo smiled back as well.

This was a HUGE surprise.

“Y-Y-Your- your back!” Valt’s eyes watered, making a bee line towards them, pulling the duo in a great big hug. “I missed you guys so much!!”

Context: You’ve probably seen this image floating around, whether through google or in thumbnails used in videos, made by people in the Beyblade Burst anime community.

You’ve probably wondered if those images were real or not.

They’re not real, because I’m the one that made them. Way back in 2021.

I made a bunch of fake screenshots/edits for Burst for the fun of it, and I wanted to test my art skills to see if I was able to replicate the show.

Due to my frustration with the show, and how I didn’t like the direction the series was going and how it handled its characters, I’ve made some fakeshots to fill the void of having characters I wanted back return. You’ve most likely seen them, and I will be making videos about those pictures in the future.

(And before anyone says I should be mad for my art being used without credit in people’s videos being spread around- the whole point of these screenshots were for this exact reasons.

It’s crazy how far my art has reached across YouTube and I really appreciate the feedback I’ve seen from people about them! I really do appreciated it!)

Before QuadStrike came to be - and just in general, I wanted to create these fakeshots for a long time. I’ve gotten a lot better at digital drawing(and have since improved a lot in the past 4 years now) and wanted to draw my Burst ideas into reality, drawing characters from S1 returning with new outfits and everything. Hence why I drew Ken and Daigo because at the time, people really wanted them to return during Surge/Superking and just missed them a lot.

Now that QuadStrike ended, and Burst is finally done, while I’m glad the final episode was more of a proper send off for the series with all the characters getting cameos near the end, it sucks that they didn’t get any updated designs and just used their S1 attires. To be fair, that is a lot to ask, especially considering they only show up on screen for a couple of seconds but still-

Regardless, it was nice to see Ken again(and Daigo too even for a short bit), but admittedly while I do love Ken’s design, I wish they didn’t keep his old scarf. Design wise it looks great but the old scarf makes his new outfit look off and clashes with his new design. But that’s just me.

~Ken & Daigo Fakeshot Background~

Ken’s outfit is from an image I found when scrolling through google for images for Ken, and found it a really cool design that look like a proper evolution to his S1 outfit. I unfortunately don’t know who the original artist is, but simply know I’m not the one who created this wonderful design.

As for Daigo’s outfit it was all me. I wanted to create something unique for him while also retaining what made his design him. He now sports his bandanna around his neck as opposed to his head, letting his hair fall down- symbolizing his growth and wanting to be more open with others and himself, and his jacket is similar to his original one, but is also a hoodie that kinda resembles a skull.

So many people though his design looked really weird and understandable really. Maybe the context changes your mind now? Knowing that it’s because of character development reasons?? Idk lol

As for the background used here, it’s from Turbo, which I edited the background from a screenshot I used to make the fakeshot more believable and real. Idk which episode it was, I stumbled upon the screencap and thought it was perfect. Here it is, free to use.

Also made a speedpaint of this if anyone’s interested in seeing the process!

#beyblade #beyblade burst #ken midori #daigo kurogami #Daina Kurogami #Beyblade Burst Ultimate #fakeshot #fake screencap #old art #beyburst

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laismoura-art · 3 months ago

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What if kuai and harumi had a child together?? Like what would happen during harumis pregnancy??

Hmmm, I'll be honest, I never gave too much thought into what a Kuairumi child would be like cause I never felt like dealing with the not so nice Hanzo fans claiming Satoshi erasure. It was hard enough for them to accept Harumi is with another man, imagine accept her having a baby with another man🙄

But hey, since we're here, I've got some ideas! 🩷 💙

Okay, so for starters, Harumi and Kuai would only agree to have this child once they were sure Earthrealm was... less chaotic (ain't gonna say "in peace" cause let's be real, does Earthrealm even know what peace is?? Lol!)

Kuai and Harumi already tried to prioritise their relationship in times of conflict (aka their wedding) and things ended up BAD, so they promised themselves they would only try to expand the family once they were sure this kid would be as safe as possible!

And it took them YEARS to get to "as safe as possible", years trying to amend Kuai and Bi-Han’s relationship, years fighting Multiversal threats, years strengthening their clans and alliances.

It took them a lot of patience, but finally, the day came!

°.✦

And how did Harumi handle this pregnancy?

Pretty well actually, lol!

Call her stubborn, but she refused to let her pregnancy interfere in her everyday life, she remained commanding her clan and teaching her apprentices, she wasn't engaging in kombat anymore obviously, but still went on missions as healer (she's the best healer in Earthrealm, no one would be crazy to leave her behind, lmao)!

She carried with herself only healing potions, she wouldn't risk the baby's health by bringing the poisonous ones!

She also started to rely much more on her Phytokinesis, as it gives her more long distance attacks and better defence!

Kuai and his siblings are much more protective of her now, not in a suffocating way (they know better than that) but they instinctively walk surrounding her and one of them always has an arm on her back or around her shoulders.

°.✦

Now the baby's birth was a chaotic one!

Starting with the fact that SEKTOR delivered the baby!

How did that happen? Well, if you ask Sektor, she will say it was Harumi's fault!

Harumi always insisted the two of them should go on missions together, to improve their relationship and resolve any tension left from the red wedding. Sektor always thought it was bullshit, but Harumi always had a way to be extremely persuasive!

The result was Harumi's water breaking right after they had fought a bunch of mercenaries threatening a sacred forest! And as they had killed off all mercenaries and were still in the middle of said sacred forest, there was no one else to help Harumi with that baby!

As healer, Harumi had delivered her fair share of babies, but she couldn't perform it on herself so it was up to Sektor to follow her instructions and bring his child I to the world!

Sektor would never admit it, but was TERRIFIED! Because that was her nephew/niece that was there, and their life was in her hands, hands that had taken many lives but never brought one!

But she pushed her fear aside, and with Harumi's instructions and encouraging words, the daughter of the Tengu and the Shirai Ryu was born!

They arrived pretty late and Kuai had already gathered the whole Earthrealm force to go look for them, he was relieved to see the two of them, but the feeling he felt just as he saw who was in Harumi's arms was entirely different, he doesn’t think he has ever loved someone as quickly and intensely as he loved his daughter!

• °.✦.° •• °.✦.° •• °.✦.° •• °.✦.° •

Aaaaaand that's what I have so far! I never got make pregnancy headcanons before since whenever I write Harumi she's either already a mom or too young to be one, so it was a fun first attempt!

To be honest, I'm hoping NRS doesn't give these two a kid anytime soon, I want Harumi to be playable already and I feel giving her a baby to take care of could be a sneaky solution to keep her an NPC :/ (which is bullshit, cause if even Madame Bo got to be playable (even if just as Kameo) why can't Harumi have her shot??) I trust NRS, but not that much...

Anyways, no clue what to name this baby (fan children are hardly my expertise) so I'm taking suggestions!🩷💙

#harumi shirai #kuai liang #kuairumi #headcanons #bi han #sektor #sekhan #<- if you want #sektor will be the kids auntie anyways #she and bi han raised frost to be the next sub zero so frost is the baby's cousin #fan child #mortal kombat #mk1

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jsmelodies · 6 months ago

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2024 Fic Writer End of Year Roundup

Thank you for the tags, @popjunkie42 @littedidyouknow @crazy-ache @zencetera

Answer and then tag three or more creators to keep the game going!

(If you're in my answers consider yourself tagged if you'd like to play!!)

1. How many words did you publish on AO3 in 2024?

A nice 86k (I write slowly, y'all)

2. How many fics did you complete this year?

I finished my one multi chapter for Nessian week as well as a bunch of one shots!

3. How many in progress or ongoing fics did you start this year?

...too many. Four, I believe? And one that I may go back to👀

4. What was your favorite thing you wrote?

Definitely The Knight and His Witch! It was fun to escape canon for a bit, and it gave me some worldbuilding practice.

5. What piece was your most experimental or different from your usual style?

Oh that would have to be I'd Go Back to the Winter for @laxibbeb, for a lot of different reasons. I was playing around with a different ship (Elucien!!), and it's probably the wildest idea I've ever come up with.

6. Did any fics surprise you - either while writing or their reception?

The reception for Till the Dawn Breaks genuinely surprised me so much. Mostly because I wrote that within the span of 3-4 days, and wasn't sure if it was that good when I posted it.

And I try my best not to focus on stats, but that fic got so much engagement!

7. Do you have a fic you wrote and loved that went under the radar? (This is your sign to reblog/repost it!)

Yes, if you like Elucien, check out I'd Go Back to the Winter!

8. Who is an artist that inspired you?

So many! @laxibbeb @dustjacketdraws @climbthemountain2020 , and some of @podemechamardek's commissions!

9. Who is an author that inspired you?

@littedidyouknow - thank you for being you (and bullying me into finishing stuff)

Also I fear the 530k words you've written this year (can I steal some please)

10. Who is a new author you discovered?

I love all of you💕 @moodymelanist @c-e-d-dreamer @kale-theteaqueen @xxvalkyriesxx @wishcamper @unhealthyfanobsession @whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk @dustjacketmusings @underneath-the-sidras

Also @popjunkie42 @beesays @crazy-ache @foundress0fnothing and so many more!

(Technically some of these were late 2023 but I’m counting them)

11. Did you do any collaborations? How did it start?

Not yet!

12. What accomplishments are you proudest of?

Finishing my first multi chapter fic! And also getting involved with the fandom more.

13. What did you learn about writing or creating this year?

I've been working a lot on my descriptions and story telling, and it's been so rewarding getting specific comments about that.

And something I'm still learning - that the story I want to write might not always be the story someone else wants to read, and that's ok.

14. Any advice you’d like to share with new or aspiring writers?

To love your writing, in whatever stage it's at. It's so easy to hate our own work, especially when we first start out.

Sometimes I'll go back and read my old chapters. Is it a little choppy? Do I see now that there was room for it to improve? Yes, of course. And I'm sure I'll think the same a year from now. But our writing all starts somewhere, and my writing wouldn't be where it is now if I didn't keep going.

And that makes those earlier chapters a lot easier to love.

Also, remember this is supposed to be fun!

15. What are your creative goals for 2025?

Nothing specific really, I just want to keep working on the fics I already have going and start the new ones I've been planning for a while.

I also have some original work that's been sitting on the back burner for a while, and I'd love to return to it.

Not tagging anyone else but feel free to join!

#tag game

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gardening-guy · 5 months ago

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life update 02/10/25 - gardening, seed starting, website, markets, etc etc

things have been super hectic and busy busy busy but i wanted to do a big update on life stuff so hereeeee we goooooo

so i did a market yesterday yippee!!! i had a lot of fun and even though i spent more than i made, i still believe it was a success and very worth it! here's photos of our booth, because i teamed up with two of my friends! one provided art prints, keychains, and stickers to sell while the other sold bead bracelets and crochet pieces! and lil ol' me sold my plants and paintings as usual!

i was really proud of our setup, and it looked great! i now own the canopy, a-frame sign, and the smaller table because i got them for free from a local closing business. it's sad that they're shutting down, but i'm thankful they gave me so much great stuff to use for markets! in the future, i hope to improve my setup even more - i saw a couple other outdoor vendors with rugs and racks and hanging curtains, and i might try some of those ideas in the future too!

i also started my new job at a local creative reuse center! my official job title is reuse & education specialist, which means i manage front-end store operations, process donations, coordinate with volunteers, assist with educational outreach and events, and more! it's been really fun honestly, and we get so many cool and weird donations! here's quite a few that i snagged photos of (the haunted doll's name is patty lmaooo)!

i also started working in the garden a bit during the couple of warm days we'd been having! i know i probably shouldn't have, but i did buy some new bags of soil to put down for those original flower beds i made up against my back deck. i also bought these window boxes forever ago that i intended on putting on the back deck railing, and so i finally started filling them with dirt and seeds that need to be cold-stratified, so i'm hopeful they'll grow? maybe, idk and don't really have a lot of experience with cold stratification other than knowing you can refridgerate seeds that need it.

i also have hopeful, tentative plans for the front yard flower beds i was working on a while ago, so i'll update you on that if i end up working on it. but in the meantime, here are the photos from my backyard.

in the window box planters that are now on the deck, i planted one with lavender seeds, one with poppy seeds, and one with cilantro seeds (i know these don't need cold stratification but i had handfuls of just loose seeds that fell out of the packet and there were SO MUCH loose seeds that i just threw them into the pot tbh). i also did throw down some more cold stratification seeds on that dirt that i placed, i think i planted: lavender, bee balm, assorted poppies, st. john's wort, joe pye weed, and white yarrow! i kinda just sprinkled them out as much as i could throughout the soil, so hopefully they grow? i'm kinda just messing around tbh. my violas are also still going on strong, and my butterfly bush will get up-potted in the late spring i think!

i've also been starting seeds indoors!

they're all nicely labeled and i also admittedly started a bunch of sweetie cherry tomatoes just bc i'm *eager* okay i want to be back in the garden so badly!!!

i'm not able to upload more photos into this post, but this is mostly everything that's been going on! things have been good honestly, even though i got sick with the flu for a bit! i hope you're all doing well!

#oli being silly #garden update #life update #personal post #gardening #hobby: gardening #plantblr #seed starting #seeds #art market #farmers market #market #vendor #vendors #market stall #oli's nonprofit job

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jisuto · 9 months ago

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On the topic of game reception, what are your thoughts on the current state of pokemon?

OK THIS ASK WAS SENT BEFORE THE HUGE LEAK LOL but I have a lot to say:

I watched VHS tapes, played the games, and owned merch since a young age so the series is very special to me. But I don't like the current direction at all and it's not because of the designs or nostalgia. The quality and game performance plummeted so how can I enjoy playing when there's mad lag or low frame rate that hinders my progress and worsen the experience??

It took too many years for them to realize they need to put quality over quantity after the SWSH mess, seeing that they can get away with pretty much ANYTHING and still make huge profit. You see people say that Pokemon should've never went 3D and stay 2D but tbh, it's a series that improves it's graphics as technology advances so it's not a surprise for them to finally go 3D and personally I think that's fine but just keep it looking good and fun (though I would love a 2D/3D hybrid). XY introduced a lot of new features but still lacked in some aspects that still haven't really been solved or added.

Reusing assets is common in the industry but only to a certain extent. They claimed that SWSH was taking a while to make because they were making brand new models which turned out to be a lie and they look like bootleg figures with the new lighting. The 3DS models were ripped from Pokepark, including some animations, but a lot of them still barely have any character. They have their own in-house team (Creatures Inc) so they made the decision NOT to have pokemon properly animated or look alive.... Also they made spin-offs like Ranger, Colosseum, Pokepark, and Pokken which look AMAZING

FRLG took only one year while HGSS was being developed at the same time as Platinum and took 3 years to finish that turned into one of the best games and remakes ever made. As the franchise expands, the team also needs to add more manpower but Game Freak can definitely afford to get more resources to help them?? They can't continue having a ragtag team of like 20 people to make a game back then and do the same now then expect good results... Hire more people who know how create with current gen consoles IT'S COMMON SENSE PLS also I can't believe they had a different company create BDSP knowing how beloved and groundbreaking DPPT was?? No redesigns like the previous remakes and thought it was a good idea to keep it looking a carbon copy to the DS style...

Also it's shocking to see how fan reception can change how the devs direct the next gen ESPECIALLY when it's not even real constructive criticism?? When Unova came out, I remember seeing all the online outcry about "OH THEY HAVE AN ICE CREAM CONE POKEMON AND A TRASH BAG, THEY'RE RUNNING OUT OF IDEAS EW" then actually hear it being repeated at school.... I WAS TRYING TO SURVIVE SINCE DAY 1 IN THE TRENCHES DEFENDING THIS GAME IT WAS ALWAYS GOOD AND DIDN'T NEED 10 YEARS TO AGE WELL. It's crazy how these are the same people who want another Kanto when Trubbish is Grimer (garbage waste) and Vanillite is Voltorb (based on literal items) then you could not catch any other pokemon from different regions in the main game. And the leak confirmed that the disgruntled hate from the west made the devs not release new pokemon in B2W2 and move them over to XY instead AND NOT GIVE A SINGLE GEN 5 MEGA EVOLUTION. So we were robbed because of genwunners who were fixated on the wrong things and ignored all the great content Unova brought us. It's strange how players keep complaining they want a different and fresh game, but want it to continue being super formulaic and binary like wtf do you want make up your mind

None of the switch titles really got me invested and I always end up replaying the older games but hopefully PLZA will break the curse and finally give us a nice game. Also why don't we have more spin-offs on the switch if there's so many of them floating around like the DS had a bunch??? STOP BEING COWARDS I WANT A POKEMON NINTENDOGS GAME OR THAT FIRE EMBLEM CROSSOVER WE WERE SUPPOSED TO GET. I JUST WANT TO HAVE FUN AGAIN ;w;

#asks #this was long sry

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docholligay · 1 year ago

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Choose Your own Adventure: June 2024

Listen the quality is middling and I really really wish I had more time to work out the rough bits of this but it's 3021 words which is more than I've written in a month in a long, long time. So thank you all so much!

I’ve had nightmares ever since I was a kid.

I guess that’s not actually all that impressive, plenty of people can say they’ve had nightmares since they were a kid. No, what I mean is, I’ve had the sort of nightmares where I dream too deep, and I can’t escape, since I was a kid.

You ever dream too deep? Where you know you’re dreaming, but you can’t get yourself out of it. The most insane things can be happening around you--once I was trapped in Picasso’s Guernica, after I saw a picture of it in my sixth grade social studies book--but it must be real, because if it weren’t real, you could wake up.

I was doing that. I couldn’t wake up, but I was in the most fucking insane situation of my life. Not a quite a nightmare, too strange to be a nightmare. Sitting in a historical house in England, surrounded by a bunch of people that aren’t real. Completely fake. Internationally trademarked, even.

The fact that they weren’t real, however, wasn’t keeping me from building a fire in a glorious marble fireplace while noted fictional characters Fareeha Amari and Haruka Tenoh moved furniture around, trying to get a space for everyone to draw their boundaries for the night.

It was tense. Tension’s a lot more fun when you’re writing it instead of living it.

Lena dropped an armful of wood beside me and crouched down, looking at the arrangement of logs. It’d be fair enough to question what I was doing. I’m good at building a fire, great even, but that supposes a number of things are true. I don’t know if they’re true here. Does wood even cure in the UK? It must, wood cures everywhere, but it’s just so goddamn damp here.

“Set of matches upstairs.” She picked at the edge of one of the logs. “If you need.”

I didn’t want her to go upstairs. I don’t know why, but it prickled across my skin. I don’t like it. There’s something odd about this place, beautiful as it is. Don’t get me wrong, I still wanted to wander around every inch of the house. The carved woods, the hand-knotted carpets, no one to tell me I couldn’t touch it, running my fingers across the flocked wallpaper. But I didn’t want her to.

“Well, I’m just gonna look around here,” I stood up, stepping toward the mantle, “has to be a match somewhere, it’s a fireplace for fuck’s sake. Can’t light it with hope. No need for you to run around all hell in the dark.”

She chuckled appreciatively and got to her feet.

“Oh, I’m alright.” She scratched the back of her head, “I’m the only one knows where it is. Improve everyone’s mood a bit, warm fire.”

I’ve had these dreams all my life. The fastest way to get out of them, is to follow the rules of them. My brain wants these worlds to be real, and so they have to be real. If I call it a dream, if I try to break out, it closes in tighter. Dream people don’t like to know they’re fake dream houses like to stay firm on the ground. These dreams are waves to be ridden. That this one feels more real than anything I’ve ever had is all the more reason to be careful. All I needed to do was get through it. As soon as the tow truck pulls up, I would just fade into the dawn. I’ve done my part.

But the reality of it. Even looking at Lena, I couldn’t imagine the perfection of her. Everything’s the way I know it, but have never seen. Her eyes are bright and brown and filled with stars. Her smile is crooked and constant, completely unself-consious. Her messy hair with its chestnut glimpses in the light. All perfect. But things I hadn’t imagined, either. Things that were completely correct, but I could never have written down. The barely-visible scar on her arm, from breaking it as a child. The rips in her sweater, lovingly darned.

Was it like this for God, that his creations were made more real in their own time?

Wow, comparing myself to God, that’s a fascinating level of arrogance on display as I’m freezing to death.

“Haruka!” I call out behind me, “Can I use your lighter?”

Lena looks at me. I shrug.

“She smoked when we were in the van.”

“Oh yeah!” She laughs and adds a small piece of tinder to the fire, “I forgot. She’s been round the backside of every pub we’ve stopped at.”

Haruka tossed it, not leaving Mina’s side, not wanting to join the conversation. It doesn’t matter. She’s still young, and annoying, and I don’t expect it. If I could have picked, I’d meet forty year old Haruka. But the lighter is more important now, one step closer to waking up to my three year old running into the room. I’ve done this plenty of times.

First fire. Then phone.

_________

Lena watched the fire catch, and then rose to her feet, offering Doc’s shoulder a pat. Everyone would be a better mood when they were a little warmer, and maybe Lena herself could cast off the strange feeling that had come over her since she went into the house. The house wasn’t talking to her, the house didn’t know her, the house wasn’t creeping around her like the ivy on the side of the house.

Course not.

That didn’t mean, though, that things weren’t odd.

Fareeha was moving together couches and piling in bedding from another room. It was a good idea, they’d probably all have to spend the night here, and Lena ignored the twinge that she shouldn’t be using the fine coverlets, the down pillows. It was just like a thought said in another room, anyway.

She should go apologize. She thought it would be funny to scare Fareeha--and it was--but Lena did whatever came to her mind first, and never thought a day, a month, a year past it. She should have known it would bother her, having spent so much time trying to professional in front of two people who wouldn’t know professional if it slapped them across the ass. Who, honestly, didn’t care about how well Fareeha ran the organization.

But Fareeha did care, and Lena had upset her, and she cared about Fareeha even if she was an annoying stick in the mud who never met a rule she didn’t like. When you care about people, sometimes you have to pretend you care about other things as well.

So she went to Fareeha’s side, and touched at the pillow on the couch in front of her, fluffing it slightly.

“Listen, earlier, that’s the sort of thing you more or less expect from me andI I thought it’d be a bit of fun, and---alright, what I --I didn’t mean to embarrass you. In front of the posh poodles. Or what ‘ave you.”

Fareeha barely looked up at her. “Who said that you embarassed me?”

Lena gave a short sigh. Well, she’d done her part. Fareeha’s pride was what it was, and there wasn’t much to be done about it.

“Right.” She looked at the shadows the fire threw upon the wall, squinting as if she could almost read them. “Strange place.”

She said it quietly, almost to herself, but flicked her eyes back to Fareeha’s, knowing she would hear and hoping she would confirm it. Not quite a whisper, but most certainly a private conference. Fareeha said nothing, her eyes simply meeting Lena’s in silent assessment, but nothing was not a denial. Right, of course. Fareeha, for whatever her faults might be: Her stubborness and pride, for example, qualities that Lena herself most certainly did not embody, or, if she did, embodied them in a much less annoying way--for all that, she trusted Lena. She didn’t think Lena was crazy.

She took the silence, as she took most silences, as leave to continue.

“Don’t you wonder about this rain?”

“In England? No. I absolutely do not.”

“It doesn’t rain like this.” Lena shook her head, trying to ignore the shadow play on the wall. “It drizzles, London fog, grey, all that. Does this seem a drizzle to you? For hours now. Doesn’t strike you as odd. Just a bit? Something is not right.”

Fareeha smiled. “We are,” she waved a hand and clapped it heavily on Lena’s shoulder, squeezing. “on a windswept moor, or something. You don’t hear ghosts, just Heathcliff howling.”

Lena took a few steps back and shook Fareeha’s hand off her shoulder.

“Right, first off, we ain’t in Yorkshire, this is Surrey. Buy a map. Second off, you’re really proud of finishing that book. Third off,” It reached a stage whisper, a wide gesture, “don’t bloody patronize me! Fareeha!”

“Fourth off, there’s a ghost in Wuthering Heights.”

Lena and Fareeha both looked over to where Doc had appeared beside them. Lena didn’t much care for anyone to have quiet feet but her.

“You think this house is haunted?”

“Not necessarily, I’m just givin’ a book report. I guess. Anyway,” Doc broke from Fareeha’s gaze, “Everyone’s mood would prolly greatly improve with some food.”

Food?

When did she eat last? She ran back in her mind, trying to figure out what it had been. They’d been at the Spoons, for some ungodly reason ordering chicken katsu, and what had she had? A little pizza. A pint. Alright, two pints. She should be fine. She spent a lot of time talking, didn’t she? At least, Fareeha had said so, but you know--

She saw the pizza box in the back of the van, more than half full.

“Right! I’m ‘ungry, is all.”

Plenty of people who were supposedly experts in a thing that had never happened had said plenty of things about her, after the slipstream, and most of them had been only too happy to suggest Lena be tossed in the bin like a broken toy. She’d never be right, you know. MIght never talk again, then did, might never take care of herself, did that too, might never be able to work again, check, and she would have had her pilot’s license back immediately if everyone at the CAA wasn’t so bloody straightlaced. She had done it all, everything they said she wouldn’t.

Might even be a danger to herself or others, for all she’s talking about seeing the pasts overlapping, about screaming into a London that was covered in soot that was under siege by the Vikings that was bombed to the ground that was her living room.He’d never let that go. She’d been a bit forgetful and chatty, with a tireless body, since she was small, but now everything she said and did was some proof of his theory. Everything was proof of an ‘unquiet mind’, never mind that they’d been happy enough to recruit her busy, loud mind before. She’d hated that insufferable prick the most, and that was quite the accomplishment.

No one thought she was crazy, why was she thinking about this? Why was she thinking about the house? She was hungry. When she was hungry, it was easy for her to jump tracks. Happened all the time.

Fareeha was looking at her carefully.

“I have meal replacement bars in my bag. You can have any of them.”

If there was anything worse than Fareeha’s constant criticism, it was her occasional concern.

“Oh, right! The blueberry kale one.” Lena gave a bright smile, “Not to betray me English right of resignation to misery, but ‘ave we tried going the kitchen?”

“I can cook. I’ll help.”

___

I don’t know why I volunteered. Other than I knew exactly what kind of meal replacement bars Fareeha has stashed in her backpack, and even if there were only a few scant things in the pantry, it would be beter than a bunch of bars with the name “Superfood slam” or “Supergreen.”

Also, I genuinely did think everyone would be better off with some food. I don’t know what Mina’s up to in the corner with Haruka, but she keeps giving me this stare, like she’s trying to peer into my soul. She knows something’s up with me.

I just have to keep going until it’s finished. Six am comes real early.

“Alright.” Lena shrugs with a smile, “I can probably manage not to kill anyone, so between the two of us it’ll be a regular feast.”

You’re actually a pretty decent cook, I want to say, you took an A level in food studies in a desperate attempt to get what you needed to qualify as a pilot. You grew up helping cook. You may be the best cook in this room who isn’t me. But I need to remember I don’t know these people, at least to them.

Remember the dream about the opera? Remember telling your seatmate the end of the story? Remember how the stage caved in, remember how it dragged you down, remember how you forgot to believe in the dream? Remember how dark it got? Lena is a stranger to you and you don’t know anything about her you couldn’t have read in a magazine somewhere.

Relax and enjoy the dream. Hell, maybe it’ll give you some ideas for that crushing writer’s block you’ve had. It’s easy, everyone agreed to send you two off, there was a flashlight given over, and you more or less understand the layout of older houses--why does this place look so familiar anyway? It’s not the Moss Mansion. It’s not the Biltmore.--so you thought you could find the kitchen. Easy.

But why are there so many things I would never imagine? Why are the cell phones different? Why--

“What about you, then?” Chipper and bright.

“What about me?”

We were wandering the first floor, looking for a dining room, which would suggest a kitchen. The walls were dark, carved in relief squares with pictures and saints’ portraits hung, all of them watching, some directing, some whispering, but all watching.

“You know,” she swung the flashlight in front of her, “Married. Kids. Sunday league team. Just making conversation in the dark.” She laughed at herself. “Nothing important.”

“Yeah, married. Daughter.” I’m never sure how much to say, how to keep from betraying myself. I suddenly remember I’m not supposed to know anything. “Oh, you?”

“Nearly there!” A sliver of moonlight hit her face, and the beauty of the joy in her face was illuminated in silver like a holy manuscript.

“Going to ask ‘er next month, when we go on ‘oliday. Oh, but she’s beautiful. And so kind. Patient, which to ‘ear me family say is the only reason she can tolerate me. I don’t know ‘ow I ended up so lucky--you imagine, girl like ‘er, in me family’s pub with the sticky carpet and--but that doesn’t matter, i did manage to charm her, and now I’ve got the ring.”

There was a strange twist in my stomach, then. Something deep and sick inside me, like I ws aboard a tossing ship.

“Never really saw meself settling down, not that I didn’t want to, but it’s a dangerous life, mine, and--”

Ah. Guilt. That’s what it is.

“Here it is.” I half-ran through the dining room. I couldn’t listen to her be in love anymore. “Kitchen.”

___

Doc was flipping through the pantry, muttering to herself as she took the tops off a few spice jars, sticking her nose over the top.

“Boy, no one here’s been particularly burdened by seasoning.” She set the jar of smoked paprika back down with a clink.

“Yeah?”

“Everything’s old.” She reached into the pantry again. “Least in here.”

Doc moved away from where the unhappy jars sat, and went to another cabinet. People teased Lena, said that she never paid attention to anything, but the problem, Lena had often observed, was that she paid too much attention to everything, and it was hard to keep it all catalouged. Looking at Doc, watching her mutter to herself, the way her fingers drifted over surfaces, the way she bounced when she walked and how her eyes wandered. Lena couldn’t be sure, you could never really be sure of anything like that, but there was something kindred between them.

“You’re a bit like me, I think.” Lena jumped up onto the countertop and opened a tall cabinet, revealing nothing but some old glassware.

“No,” Doc shut the cabinet with an annoyed thump, “You’re a little like me.”

Didn’t ask how she meant. Didn’t even think about what Lena might have been saying about it. Didn’t disagree. Doc stopped in the middle of the room and nodded.

“I’m older than you, I mean. I came first.” Doc shrugged. “So it’s you who’s like me. A little bit.”

She stood in front of the few cans they’d managed to gather and threw a pot on the stove, turning on the gas and striking a match all in a swift and praticed motion. The burner lit without dramatics.

“Anyway, who the fuck wants to talk about it? Congratulations, we’re both twitchy and weird. Want to place bets on who can sit still the longest? Short game. Hand me that knife, will you?“

Lena sat down on the butcher block counter, her arms around her knees and watched Doc as she popped open cans and began to toss them in the pot. Not everyone wanted to talk about what made them tick, and it wasn’t even as if Lena had necessarily wanted a deep conversation about it. It was only an observation, an extension of friendship. Maybe she’d embarrassed her by noticing. Lena’d felt that way herself a time or two. It doesn’t always feel complimentary to have someone tell you they know you’re odd. Not every family was like Lena’s about it. She grabbed the knife and extended it toward Doc.

Kill her.

Lena jumped back with the ferocity of it, the knife clattering to the counter. Doc turned to her, eyes narrowed.

“What is it?”

Kill her before she kills you.

For next month

#Doc's choose your own adventure

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