#this is supposed to be helping me go to sleep and all I can think about is Dunyasha

[breannasfluff]

The doorbell rings, marking a customer, and Danny is jerked from his thoughts as he half-dozes on the counter.

“Hi, welcome.” Straightening up he brushes off his apron and gestures at the table. “Can I get you some water?”

The flat look he gets in return isn’t promising. “No. I need to talk to the boss in the back. Watch my daughter for a minute, would you? Brat keeps running off when I ain’t looking.”

“Ah…” Danny shifts, awkward, and glances around the empty room. 

Customer rolls his eyes and slouches out the door. Then he’s back, bell dinging cheerfully, with a girl’s arm in his hand. “Sit,” he tells the girl, shoving her into a chair. “Stay.”

She’s not a dog. Danny grits his teeth and thinks about the taser, behind the counter he was sitting at. She doesn’t look scared, just huffs and shakes chunky bangs out of one eye. 

Customer looks them both over again. “Talkin to the boss. Watch her.” With that, he vanishes back into the kitchen.

Danny looks at the girl. 

She stares back. “You know what this place is, right?”

“A Chinese restaurant?” he tries. 

The girl blows her bangs out of her face again. “MSG, sure. The good shit.”

“Language,” Danny snaps because she can’t be older than twelve. 

He gets a considering look. “You’re new to town, aren't cha? I’m DeeDee.”

“I’m Dan.” He’s not going to give out his full name, not here. “And what gave it away?”

DeeDee cackles, throwing her shoes up on the table. Danny grimaces at the motion. “You got this…shininess to you. Gotham hasn’t got its dirt in your cracks yet.”

Danny glances at the kitchen where her father went. “Are you…safe?”

“It’s Gotham, dipstick. Nothing’s safe here.” DeeDee reminds him of Ember. A younger, ruder version, maybe. “But Pops ain’t the worst. He’s not my real dad, but street kids don’t get a lot of choices, ya know? I help, he gives me a place to sleep.”

“You help…”

“With the MSG.” Her grin is all teeth. “Gotta keep it on the DL though, you hear? Not supposed to have kids involved.” It’s the first time her cocky manner fades. “Don’t wanna be out on the street again. It’s hard to find a gig. Too young for shit.”

Danny’s frown is going to be permanent if he keeps this up. DeeDee is just a kid, even if she’s had to grow up fast. She's only a few years younger than him when he started ghost-fighting. 

He tears off a scrap of paper and jots down a number before handing it over. “That’s for Tony’s Pizza. If you lose this gig, you call the number and say you want to talk to Dan, got it?”

DeeDee takes it with a sneer that looks forced. “I don’t need no charity.”

Danny just shrugs. “You don’t. But sometimes it’s nice to have the option.”

Read the rest here

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

In Love and War (8)

Summary: The aftermath of all her family secrets might be more chaotic than Reader bargained for when her powers suddenly start to flare. Good thing her Warlord has more than a few ideas how to help navigate it ;)

Content Warnings: Depressive thoughts, Reader mentions wanting to die; Suggestiveness, Slight SMUT; Canon Typical Violence

Author's Note: To make up for the last chapter being so short, please enjoy that flirty little bastard being a menace! ;)

Chapter 7/Masterlist

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

I don’t sleep at all that night. I lay there, Rhysand sleeping soundly beside me, exhausted from the events of the last couple of days. He’d barely kept his eyes open long enough to eat. I’d barely managed to choke down a few bites myself. The guilt has my stomach in a perpetual knot. I’ve dedicated so much of my life to hating this male, only to be wrong about all of it, and now I’m in too deep to even do anything about it.  I can’t go home. There is no home to go back to. My family slaughtered an innocent mother and daughter. Rhys received their heads in boxes like some sort of twisted gift. They were supposed to be allies and my father betrayed them in the worst possible way. He paid for it with his life, with my mother’s life; it should have been the end of it. Tamlin was given a mercy and he should have taken it. He should have abandoned my father’s teachings and become a better lord, a better man. Instead, he perpetuated the cycle of abuse and suffering. He encouraged me to hate these people, to covet everything they had as if they were undeserving of it. All these years I loathed our miserable existence thinking the Mother hated us and was being unjust in giving these people all these things that we were never allowed. But we deserved it! We were the bad guys all along.

I roll over onto my side to look at him. He still sleeps in his armor, knife still strapped to his thigh, sword resting against the tent pole only a foot away. He’s ready to be up and fighting in a moment's notice. Our father’s were so similar, and yet, he turned out to be merciful and kind and somehow, so startlingly gentle that I often forget he’s still capable of intense prowess. He is the only male I’ve ever truly felt comfortable with, because that gentleness came as a response to the violence he’d seen, not because that violence was never there. He’d felt the cold sting of it, and chose to be something gentle instead of returning it.

And here I am, with all that righteous anger that had kept me warm on my coldest days, choosing to return all the violence that had been inflicted on me onto others. Just as Tamlin did. Just as my father did. 

And looking at it I don’t want to be him. He ruined my mother! He took something good and kind and locked it away and used her for his own ends! I don’t even know if he ever really loved her. Why would you keep the things you love in a cage?

I sit up abruptly. Maybe he was as scared of being alone as I am. 

I can’t sit in this tent anymore! I can’t-

Rhysand jolts awake as soon as I move, hand twitching for his knife, shadows swirling off his body in response to what his sleep muddled mind thinks is a threat. “What’s wrong?”

I put a hand on his chest, spinning onto my knees so I can kiss his forehead. “Nothing, I just need to relieve myself.”

He lets me push him down onto the mat, body relaxing and pliant beneath my touch. “You sure?”

“Positive.” If he tried to follow me out now I think I really might explode. My stomach feels like it's ripping itself apart. My bones ache, my skin feels like it's stretched too tight over them. There is too much nervous energy bound inside my body. I just need to get out and stretch my legs; get some fresh air and clear my head. I will be fine if I can clear my head.

“Take your knife,” he says, eyes already drifting shut again. 

I strap it to my thigh as I slip from the tent, gulping down lungfuls of crisp, mountain air as I go. I just need to clear my head. Is finding a way to survive this fucked up world really me acting like my father? I’ve never killed innocent people. I’ve never withheld necessities or lorded my power over people. I’m just not being honest about my intentions. It’s shitty. I’m using a mating bond I’m still not wholly sure is real as a means to getting food and shelter and, hopefully, a decent helping of mind blowing sex.

Cauldron that sounds really, really fucked up.

But how am I supposed to tell him? Hey, I know that you really don’t like my family and they’ve done nothing but screw you over but I also accepted your offer to try and ruin your life and take all of your land and kinda only just changed my mind about it yesterday. And it would be really super cool if you just let that slide because I have nowhere else to go.

That would go over soooooo well. He’d be totally fine with it! 

I ground my palms into my eyes as I walk behind a couple trees to at least make it look like I really did need to go pee. There are men on guard duty, no doubt someone is going to see me wandering around camp.

My brain feels like it’s being squeezed by my skull. There has to be a way to go about this that doesn’t get me tossed out into the coming snow, while also not lying so deeply about it. I do care about him. It was a lie at first but now…

I put my back against the tree and slide down until I’m sitting on the rocky ground, head still in my hands. I don’t know if he’s my mate. There’s something there, I feel it pulling at me, even now, but I can’t give it a name. And I want to be here. Not just because of the story he’d told yesterday. When Lucien tried to get me to leave, I really didn’t want to go back with him. But how am I supposed to live with the truth? How am I supposed to look at him and see that he wants this so much more than I do, despite everything?

Actually, why does he want this, despite everything? He’d asked me why I stayed. I never asked him why he brought me here. There’s certainly enough bad blood between our families to make even a mate hesitate to bring me in.

I lean back against the tree, the rough scrape of the bark against my aching skin a relief. My body feels so strange, being around Rhysand’s magic has made it feel like there’s something beneath my skin.

Tomorrow, in the morning, I will ask him why he still brought me back. Then I will decide what to do. 

------

He certainly doesn’t make asking him easy. Rhys wakes me up with his lips on my throat, along the fading marks he’d left a couple days before,  trailing them down as his hands hike up my sweater. The heat of him against the early morning chill has my resolve slipping, all my plans slipping through my fingers as he runs his tongue over my peaked nipples.

I can’t think past the roaring in my ears; the ache in my body for more, more, more. There is nothing and no one but him as he trails lower, each kiss more forceful than the last as he heads for the waistband of my pants.

“Rhys,” I moan, voice still thick with sleep, even as my body arches under him. I want him everywhere. I need him everywhere. The stirring feeling beneath my skin is worse today, only quelled by the trail of his hands on my body. For once, my racing thoughts are quiet. If only we could stay like this. 

“Hmmm,” he hums into my stomach, just beneath my navel. There’s a bit of stubble along his jaw, the scrape of it against my oversensitive skin makes my eyes roll back into my head. “Did you want something, mate?”

“You,” I groan, hand reaching out to tangle in his hair to try and move him where I need him. 

He grins, I can feel the upturn of his lips against my stomach, but he refuses to budge. Just nips at the skin visible above my waistline. “You have me.”

Bastard! My whole body trembles beneath him. I can’t get a breath down fast enough. I need him everywhere all at once. “Need you inside me,” I bite out.

He simply hums again, hands tugging at my waistband with an inhumane slowness that makes me feel like I’m going to burst out of my skin. I use the hand not in his hair to grip the mat, trying to ground myself, trying to find some semblance of control again. I’m gripping so tight my bones ache, fingers feeling like they’re breaking. There’s a tearing sound, a pricking sensation in my palm and then a gush of something wet across my hand. 

Even he looks up at that, and when I turn to look, I’m more than a little surprised to find that I’ve grown claws, and I’ve just tore them right through my hand!

“Shit!” He’s gone from between my legs in an instant, all the heat in my body leaving with him. 

I can’t unfurl my hand. Can’t retract the claws, they’re stuck through my palm with my fist closed around it. I’ve only ever grown them in anger, how the hell had I done it now?

Rhysand comes back with a towel as I manage to sit up. “I thought you smelled different this morning,” he muses.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” I hiss.

“Our magic can be protective. It can hide itself if it doesn’t feel safe. I don’t think you were born with too little, I think you were born with too much.” His fingers massage my wrist, trying to find the right pressure points to help me unclench my fist. “I think that it buried itself inside you to keep you safe. And I think, now that you’re here, it’s manifesting, and like the wards, it has its own scent.”

Fan-fucking-tastic!

“Well I’d like it to un-manifest,” I hiss. “I was doing just fine without it!” There’s blood dripping through the towel, if anything it feels like my claws are burrowing deeper into my palm. I can practically feel them trying to tear right through the back of my hand.

He can’t seem to find the right spot and trying to pry my fingers out of my palm is a no go. He frowns, lifting the towel for a better look. “I’m gonna try something.”

I’m prepared for a blow from his own magic, some form of glittering starlight or shadowy darkness, I am not prepared for him to kiss me again. The sound I make in surprise is somewhere between a growl and a gasp because what the hell is he doing? But even though my head is struggling to catch up, my body is not. On instinct, I lean back to allow him better access, his tongue slipping behind my teeth. The rolling feeling beneath my skin lessens, the tightness in my palm slowly releasing. I thread my functioning hand through his hair as my body gives what I can only describe as a sigh of relief. A moment later, the claws retract and I can finally unfurl my fist.

“Flair ups can be heavily tied to your emotions,” he says, lips barely off mine. “Probably wasn’t the best idea to tease you in the middle of one.” 

It takes him all of thirty seconds to find some rags and tie up my hand, even though the blood flow is already lessening. All I can do is stare at it while he does it. This is certainly a new and unwelcome development to this whole mess.

“Is that going to keep happening?”

Azriel pops his head into our tent, unannounced as usual. “Are you two done in here or what? I, personally, cannot live with Cassian if he beats us around the mountain.”

“We’ll be right there,” Rhysand huffs.

“I’m seeing a trend with him,” I mutter. 

He smirks, “It’s one of Azriel’s many charms.” 

He helps me to my feet, holding onto me like he thinks something else might just burst out of my skin. Truth be told, I can still feel something shifting around, a prowling animal begging to be released from its cage. I’d thought it was my unease this whole time, but maybe it’s worse than that. 

“We don’t know how deep your power well is,” Rhysand says. “And if it’s never fully manifested…” He blows out a breath. “When mine first started manifesting, I shredded a whole section of camp with starlight. There was a whole twenty-four hour period where my shadows blocked out the sun. And you’re my equal so, yes I think that will keep happening.”

Cauldron boil me!

“As long as you remain calm, it shouldn’t be too bad.”

“I should think you would know better than to tell a female to be calm, Rhysand.”

He grins, “Well you can also spend the day making out with me, since that seems to be such a lovely little distraction with you.”

I go to hiss an insult at him but the only thing that comes out is an actual, animal-like growl. I clamp a hand over my mouth in embarrassment while he bursts out laughing. 

“This is going to be fun!” He declares.

I am not at all inclined to agree.

----

I only manage to ride with him for an hour or two before the pull of his magic makes my skin start to itch. He was right about magic having a scent. Half way through the hour I suddenly become very aware of the jasmine scent of him. It’s everywhere. In every breath. Every brush of his chest against my back, every movement of his hands along the reins. My body is hyper aware of every place we do and don’t touch.

“Getting all worked up again, aren’t we?” He purrs in my ear.

My jaw feels like it’s snapping as a set of fangs tear through my gums, spurting blood into my mouth. Somehow his magic is the catalyst for my transformation and the balm all in one. I can’t be near him and I can’t be away from him, as I soon learn. When I jump off the horse and declare I’m going to walk beside him, my claws return, in both hands this time. At least they shoot out my nail beds and not my knuckles like Tamlin’s.

The thought of him makes another growl rumble through my chest and something that feels suspiciously like fur sprouts from the back of my neck.

“Wouldn’t recommend,” Rhysand warns.

The itchiness of my skin is even worse on the ground. I feel the wards tugging at me like I’ve been tied to the glittering magic that builds them with a string.  The jasmine and overripe fruit scent of them is enough to make my nose crinkle. Apparently the transformation heightens my senses as well.

“I’m gonna tear off my skin,” I snarl, fidgeting with my collar. Why is it so itchy? Is it supposed to be like this?

He slows his mount to keep pace with me and I do not miss the grumbled complaints of the males behind us. My ears twitch every time one of them speaks, the sound sometimes like a shout and others like a far off echo.

“Breathe,” he says gently. “The more worked up you get, the worse it will be until we can find a way to safely expel it.”

I draw a shaky breath, then another. 

“Good girl.”

A shiver works its way up my spine at that.

“Now come here,” he leans so far out of the saddle he’s only holding on with his thighs, and my first thought is how we can get this little caravan to pause so I can be the one beneath him. He gets an arm around my waist and hauls me back up onto the horse and damn if that’s not the hottest thing I’ve ever seen a male do!

“Let’s get these wards up-” I’m hyper-aware how every word rumbles through his chest, the way his body shifts on the horse. “-And we’ll find a place to camp soon enough, then you and I can work on this.”

“Make it stop,” I gently beg. “I don’t want it!” The itch beneath my skin is becoming unbearable! My claws scratch up my arms, tearing up my sweater. 

His free hand covers mine, intertwining our fingers, even as the horse begins to move. “Focus on me.”

I focus my attention on the way his body molds against mine. The way the leather of his glove slides over the back of my hand. I let my eyes drift shut, focusing on the brush of his chest against mine, the swaying motion of his hips as the horse moves over the rocky terrain. It’s not enough. Not like the feel of his lips on mine had been this morning. As if he knows it, he drops his head against my shoulder, nose brushing over the exposed skin of my throat. 

“I’m right here,” he continues. “Focus on me, just like you did this morning.”

This morning there had been a lot less clothes between us. 

“Breathe for me.”

It is a physical effort to draw a deep enough breath in; another to pull my claws away from my itching skin. He settles our joined hands against my stomach. 

“Again.”

I manage to do what I am told, just barely. 

“Good. Just like that.” His voice makes a shiver run down my spine as my mind spins with all the other things I want him to talk me through. I think I could do just about anything if he explained it to me in that rich, husky voice he was using in my ear. “Part of learning to control it is finding your center. Find a safe mental space to retreat to.”

“Like what?” There are few places in the world I have ever felt safe. Thinking about how I used to sit in the rocking chair with my mother and listen to her stories only fills me with pain now. Or perhaps a couple weeks ago I might have thought about all those summers I spent at the creek with Lucien, but now it only makes the thing beneath my skin rumble and shake like there’s some sort of animal that lives caged beneath my ribs and is trying desperately to break free. What makes me feel safe?

“A good memory, a happy time,” he lists. 

I have nothing. My eyes start to water and my throat starts to close, talons growing longer and sharper at my fingertips. I feel the give of my leather chest-piece beneath them. Everything good in my life has been a lie! Everyone that was supposed to protect me only ever hurt me in the end. None of it was ever real.

And this, this thing that could be something, that could be real, I had ruined it. I have to lie to keep it. I have to pretend that I had every right to hurt him, when it was really the other way around. The only person who had ever told me the truth, who could see me for what I was, and I had ruined any chance of it being real before it had even had the chance to start.

A sob slips out of me and with it, the tree we pass erupts in a flurry of leaves and twisting, screaming bark that makes the horse rear. The earth rumbles, random cracks splitting in the rock face, gnarled vines crawling out of them like tentacled monsters. The itching in my skin won’t stop! The more I try to trap it the more the world around us screams in protest. 

“Breathe, Y/N,” Rhysand orders in my ear. “You have to breathe.”

“I can’t!” I choke out. 

He slides his hand out of mine and brings it up against the side of my temple. It feels like a shadow unfurling from his fingertips, but the brush of it is not against my face, but inside my skull. Darkness clouds my vision from the inside out. It feels as if my brain is being emptied, piece by piece with shadows until there is nothing inside my mind but him. 

“Breathe,” he commands, the voice of a Warlord. “Now.”

I choke on each breath. 

“You are safe, Y/N,” he says, gentler. There is nothing in the world but the two of us in this dark little bubble. Nothing but the press of night chilled jasmine and calming, all consuming night. From somewhere far off, I hear music on the wind, the swell of stringed instruments pulling my attention away from the itch running beneath my skin.

“Why is this happening?” My body feels so impossibly small, yet like it’s being stretched beyond its capacity, my bones trying to tear through the confines of my skin all the same.

“Our powers can very easily get tangled with our emotions,” he explains, the hand on my temple drawing shapes into my skin. Somehow, after looking at the stitches in the tent walls, I know he’s spelling something out in Illyrian, but I’ll never know what. “The last twenty-four hours have been a lot for you, I’m sure.”

There is no room to think about it in this headspace, no twisted memories to plague me, only the music and the faint twinkle of stars for company. I let myself fall into it, let it swallow me and fill me until I feel disconnected from the pulling of my skin.

“I don’t want this power,” I whisper into the darkness.

The darkness caresses me, wraps itself around me as surely as his arm around my waist. “I know, but we don’t get a say in what we’re given, only what we do with it.”

When have I ever truly had a say in anything?

“What if I hurt somebody?” What if I am just as bad as my father in both intentions and power? If I am capable of plotting to ruin someone’s life based on a lie, how much more capable am I of turning these claws on someone else? Maybe power is passed from my mother, but that will never change the fact that I now carry the same weapons that were used to scar me, and Rhys, and probably his mother and sister. 

“You won’t,” he assures. “I’ll be right here to teach you. You can control it.”

He has far more faith in me than he should.

----

Once we’ve stopped for the night and camp is set up, Rhysand takes me by the hand and leads me out into the empty, grassy plains beneath the mountain. The knee-high yellow blades are brittle this time of year, cracking under our boots as we walk until only the smoke from the campfires pinpoints where we left the others. We’re far enough away that I won’t hurt anyone if I lose control again.

Shame flushes my cheeks. I’ve always prided myself on being the calm one of the family; always able to keep my emotions shoved deep down beneath the surface to keep them from getting the better of me. I thought I was good at it. I was wrong. It’s only been the constant brush of Rhysand’s shadows against my mind all afternoon that have kept me from tearing everything I touch to shreds. Even now, my hands ache from often my new claws have sprung and retracted from my fingertips.

I must feel about as awful as Rhysand looks. The circles under his eyes have not lessened in the slightest, and every once in a while I’ll see him start to sway, like it’s an effort to stay on his feet. The scent of his magic has lessened, the night blooming jasmine fading behind the citrus and salty scent of him. He shouldn’t be out here with me, he should be resting, recharging his own magic so he can be prepared for more warding tomorrow. According to Azriel and the scouts’ reports, we should meet up with Cassian and Mor’s group by this time tomorrow and Rhysand will need all his energy to ensure both ends of the wards are fully meshed together. 

We stop once we’re cushioned between two large hills, nothing but the chirp of crickets and the stars to keep us company. The Mountain looms dark and shadowy beneath the small sliver of the moon. 

“This looks like a good place,” he says as he finally releases my hand.

I keep my lower lip between my teeth, hands shaking at my sides. I don’t want to do this! Entertaining the idea that I have powers to train and use is foolish. I don’t need to learn to use them; I need to learn to shove them back down into the darkest parts of me where they can’t hurt anybody. 

“Let’s start with something simple,” he suggests. “Tell me where you feel your power the most.”

My hand comes up to poke between my rib cage, where the stirring and itchy feeling is the most concentrated. “Feels like something is trying to break out of my skin,” I say softly.

“The claws and the fangs could be a beast form,” he muses. “Or it could just be some shape-shifting powers you inherited from your father?”

The mention of that bastard makes the stirring in my chest feel like a tidal wave, raw energy crackling so hard and fast through my veins that I feel it crest out my fingertips. The grass around me withers and dies, the ground beneath it crackling and rumbling with what feels like the early stages of an earthquake. I can’t have powers like my fathers!

There is no shortage of pity in those violet eyes and I press my palms into my eyes with a groan. I can’t do this! It needs to stop! I need to bury it now before it runs away with me; while I still have some control over it. Because if it goes any further than this…

Maybe Tamlin was right to send me away. Maybe he did know about my powers and that was why he got rid of me. I couldn’t hurt anybody if I was alone in the woods.

Rhysands shadows drift along the floor until they can slither up my calves, rubbing affectionately against me in a way that reminds me of a cat. “It’s ok,” he soothes.

Tears stream down my cheeks. “Make it stop!” I beg. “Show me how to bury it again.”

His shadows trail higher, winding over my hips and waist, even as he steps closer, leaving barely a breath between us. “Y/N…” he shakes his head, trying to find the right words and I feel a strange pang beneath the movement in my chest.

“Please,” I whimper. “I’ll do anything! Just make it stop.”

He cups my cheek and I give myself the briefest moment to fall into the warmth of his touch.  “I know it’s scary, and that it hurts, but this is good. It has to be released. You will die if you don’t.”

Then let me. The words freeze on my tongue when a tendril of his power flicks over his shoulder, down his wrist, to brush against my cheek, but that doesn’t stop the spiraling of my thoughts. Let me be free of this pain. Let me go out before I become a monster like my father. Let that awful bastard be right; let me be useless and worthless and incapable of doing anything he could be proud of. 

As if spurred on by my thoughts, the grass around me continues to wither, until there’s a whole circle of dead earth surrounding me. The harder I try to draw it in, the wider the circle becomes. Power sizzle through my nerve endings, a fire that digs itself into my veins and when I curl my hands into fists to try and stop it, I pull weeds through the cracks in the earth, the gnarled, leafy branches reaching up like skeletal hands that wrap around my, and Rhysand’s ankles.

“Focus on that spot,” his free hand taps gently against my ribs. “Focus until it feels like you’re holding it.”

I try to imagine the power like a bowl filled with sloshing, dark liquid. I imagine myself reaching for the lip of the bowl, the cracked edges and rough wood a mirror to the one that used to sit on our kitchen table, full of apples I’d sneak when no one was looking. If I make it familiar, it feels easier to focus on. I imagine every crack in the bowl, every worn edge, focusing until I get a mental hold around the edges. Now all I need to do is tip the bowl over. If I spill out its contents, there will be nothing left inside me to unleash… right?

“Once you can hold it, focus on containing it. Imagine it like a bottle, get all that energy into the bottle, and put a lid on the top,” Rhys says like he can hear my plans.

The liquid inside the bowl bubbles and hisses as my conflicted feelings run circles through my head. He hasn’t been wrong this far, I should do as he says, but I can’t help but feel like indulging this is a mistake. I can hear my father’s voice inside my head, telling me that this is not how females are supposed to behave. 

I can feel the weeds I’d summoned dying around me. Can feel every blade of grass as if it was somehow attached to my skin. The longer I hold that imaginary bowl, the more aware of this power I become, but it doesn’t feel like control. It just feels like more things pulling at me, trying to move me in directions I’ve never decided I want to go in. 

The ground rumbles beneath my boots again as my mental grip slips, and when I open my eyes the weeds, dead as they are now, have slithered all the way up my chest, reaching for my throat like some decrypt hand. 

The air leaves my lungs in a rush and with it, the dead vegetation crumbles and turns to dust on the wind.

Rhysand should be looking at me like I’m a monster. He should be stepping away, shadows swirling, that giant sword in hand. We are supposed to be enemies and he should be looking at me like I am one. But he’s not. He reaches out and brushes some of the ruined plant off my shoulder instead.

“It’s ok,” he assures. “No one gets it on their first try. Not even me.”

That compassion and understanding makes my chest ache worse than any restless power ever has. I don’t deserve it. I wish he would treat me like the horrible creature I am. He would be better off if he tossed me out into the woods like Tam.

He stiffens and I can’t help but wonder if I accidentally said that out loud because his eyes darken as he closes the gap between us and takes my face in his hands. “Maybe I’m taking the wrong approach.” His voice is clipped, husky. 

Good, maybe he can finally see me for what I really am.

I am wholly unprepared for him to crash his lips against mine. My brain short circuits, the agitation I feel morphing into that desperate, needy thing I had felt this morning. Just as I tilt my head back, lips parting to let him in, he pulls back. 

“Let’s play a game.”

The power in my chest feels like it’s going to rip out of my skin again. 

“Match what I do and you’ll get a reward,” he explains. “If you can’t…” He takes a step back and it is an effort not to chase after him, but the message is clear enough: Matching his efforts means his hands, his lips, his body is on me again, fail to do so, and he puts space between us. It shouldn’t work. It shouldn’t make me want to try, but I do. Gods I do! 

“Ok,” my voice shakes a little. In the back of my mind I still think it’s a bad idea. Maybe I will regret it in the end, but this thing between us is the only thing that makes sense. There is nothing between us when his lips are on mine. I need that distraction tonight.

He holds out a hand and a ball of shadows emerge, the tendrils of darkness crawling out from beneath his skin to form the swirling shape. “Find that spot in your chest and push it into your hand. It’s a part of you, it answers to you. Make it answer to you.”

I hold out my hand, matching his position and then close my eyes, reaching for that bowl of darkness again. Hesitantly, I tip it sideways, sloshing some of the dark liquid over the edge and imagine pulling it through my limbs. It makes my muscles spasm, my claws shooting out of my nail beds in defense.

“Breathe through it, you’ll pass out if you hold your breath.” 

Selfishly, I want to impress him. Want to show him I can. I want the reward of his lips on mine again. Want to not have to think about whether I should be doing this or that, the only thought in my head him and how good he feels. I do as he says, drawing in a breath as I keep pushing that bit of darkness in the direction I want it. It makes my head hurt, trying to focus so intently, but I’m nothing if not persistent. 

I feel the rumble of movement beneath my palm, and just when I’m starting to think that maybe I’m more capable than I thought, the tiniest, most wilted looking dandelion grows from my palm. And then immediately turns to ash. It’s the saddest excuse for power I’ve ever seen and I growl out a complaint like a literal beast as even the thing in my chest shows its disappointment.

Rhysand snorts out a laugh too, which makes it worse.

So much for powerful. 

He clears his throat as he steps back into my space. “It was a good attempt.”

“Don’t patronize me,” I hiss. “That was embarrassing.” 

He wraps his hand around my wrist and places his lips against my palm anyway, never mind that my claws are still out and drifting over his temple as he kisses right where my powers flared. “You still tried.”

I shiver at the contact of his plush lips against my skin, his breath warm against my palm. My senses are still incredibly heightened and even that bit of contact makes my skin buzz with excitement. 

He quirks a dark brow as he looks at me from where my hand is still pressed against his lips. “Try again for me?”

I nod, not trusting my voice when he’s looking at me like he wants to devour me. His pupils are blown wide, barely a ring of violet left to see. He keeps his lower lip between his perfect teeth as he watches me with an intensity that makes my thighs clench. 

Just like before, I imagine myself holding that bowl, this time, I draw a breath and tip it over, letting more of that strange darkness spill into the abyss that is my soul. It is strange to see it like this, to have some parts of it so clear and yet the rest of it is shrouded in fathomless depths. There might be anything living within the confines of my skin. I’d never bothered to look until now. 

I push it towards my fingertips, just as before. The same spasm in my muscles returns, a knot forming in my bicep that I do my best to ignore as I keep pushing my power towards my hand. I remind myself to breathe when it flares in my wrist, making my claws retract and pop back out. 

“Just like that,” Rhysand coaxes.

Cauldron his voice makes my insides feel like jelly. 

Crawling vines emerge one by one from beneath my palms, twining around my fingertips like tiny snakes. In the center sprouts another dandelion, a little taller than the last. I manage to hold it for all of five seconds before the knot in my bicep and wrist become too much and the vines and flower die together. My bones ache. How does he do this so easily?

“Better,” Rhysand praises as he places the next kiss on the inside of my wrist, his fingers massaging the knot forming there. 

“Is it supposed to hurt?” I grumble.

“It’s a process,” he murmurs into my skin, lips trailing higher, causing a shiver to run down my spine. “Think of it like building a muscle. The first couple days of using that muscle will hurt. You’ll be sore. But the more you build it, the stronger it becomes, and the less it hurts. Eventually, you’ll be able to perform bigger and bigger feats with less and less discomfort.” 

That sounds exhausting! 

I’m going to have to do this for the rest of my life? The thought sours my mood, once again turning my thoughts away from this lovely little distraction he’s been offering and back into the darkness that’s been threatening to overtake me all afternoon. 

I swear he can hear the thoughts spinning through my head as he suddenly nips at the tender flesh of the inside of my wrist. “You think you can give me one more?”

I have a headache just thinking about doing it again, but he keeps looking at me through those long lashes, the intensity in his gaze making all rational thought fly out the window. 

“I’ll make it worth your while,” he promises, lips trailing higher. He’s so warm and intoxicating, I think he might be capable of making me do anything, as long as his lips remain on my skin.

I focus on that spot, paying extra attention to breathe as I reach for that imaginary bowl a third time. Maybe if I let myself relax, lean a little heavier into the warmth of his touch, and stop trying so hard to hold on so tight, it won't hurt so bad. It has been like fighting a tide all this time; if I relax, go with the wave, will that make it easier?

I imagine that darkness spilling from the bowl like water instead, letting it flow like a river. The path from my chest to my fingertips is kind of like a stream, right? The water bubbling and rushing through me. There must be something to that thought process, because, when I open my eyes, there are more vines twining around my fingers and wrist, but this time, tiny yellow and pink flowers bloom from them. There is nothing dead or angry crawling out from beneath my skin, but something beautiful and alive. My claws retract as the vines spin around my fingers.

I can’t help but grin as I look to Rhys for his approval. “I did it!”

He grins right back, the sight so dazzling I think I might just stand here for hours summoning flower after flower to see it again. “That’s my girl!”

Instinctively, spurred by the excitement rushing through my veins, I stretch up on my toes and place a quick kiss on his lips. “You’re a good teacher,” and I mean it. Whatever this is between us, I am grateful for him, even if this is all we have. “Thank you.”

He slides a hand in my hair and kisses me back. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

I don’t know what it is I feel about it. It still feels wrong, or maybe it just feels different. Everything feels different these days, I’d rather not think too long about it. “Feels like I can breathe a little easier.” 

“Good.” He kisses me again. “We’ll practice some more tomorrow.”

I slide my hand into the silky strands of his hair, nails scraping lightly over his scalp as he rests his forehead on mine. I won’t let myself think about tomorrow, or about these new powers. There can only be this moment.

“Just promise me,” he continues, “that you’ll keep trying?”

“I might need some convincing,” I return, clinging to this distraction with every last bit of willpower I possess.

He grins at the challenge. This is the best I can give him today; the closest to the truth I can admit without laying everything bare. 

“I can be very persuasive,” he purrs and the next thing I know I am on my back in what’s left of the grass, the solid weight of him on top of me. “Maybe we should work on some self-defense while we’re at it. That was alarmingly easy.”

“The words every girl wants to hear when she’s beneath a man,” I retort.

“I just want you to be safe, is all,” he says as he kisses the tip of my nose. 

I reach up a hand and brush some of the hair that’s falling over his forehead into his eyes out of the way. He is breathtakingly beautiful under the moonlight. I wish I could paint or sketch, immortalize every glorious sharp edge of him in ink and paper. “I’m with you, how can I not be safe?”

Cauldron boil me, I mean that too.

It’s not until later that night, long after I’d fallen apart on his tongue in that field and then tumbled back into camp, nearly asleep on my feet to nestle down against his warm body that I remembered I’d meant to ask him this morning why he’d still let me in after everything between us. By now I’m too exhausted to care; maybe I’ll find the courage to ask in the morning.

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

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Communication is Key

Robin

I am Morven Hellwain. You have carried my spirit in your body for the last two months. As I am sure you have not figured out, when you lose consciousness, I gain control of our shared vessel. I need you to sleep as frequently as possible. Additionally, avoid bodily harm. I do not appreciate having to cast Cure Wounds when I wake.

Dear Morven Hellwain

Are you the reason for all the strange happenings? Did you explode the wolves? Lug says you killed that monster in the bunk house.

I go to sleep every night. I guess it is every other night? I don’t think I can sleep more than that and still help.

Thank you for healing my leg. Happen says he did not aim for me. His sprites played a mean prank.

From Robin Oatcake

Robin

I cannot fathom how you think you, the village idiot, can be of any help. The only way you can help is by ensuring I am in control as much of the time as possible.

As for your initial questions, yes, I am. I cannot imagine anything of note occurring in your proximity without my influence. I am not directly responsible for the wolves’ destruction; the recent unpredictable outcomes of spells is to blame. You need not concern yourself with magic.

Dear Morven Hellwain

I was not the village idiot. That was Young Man Dan. I was the spit-turner before I lost my job seven weeks ago.

I can be a great help! I helped save Lug from those men. I even injured one! And I was the one that got help when that man turned into a monster. Happen said I did a good job. I even helped us meet our friends and join our adventuring party. You are just upset that I can help just as much as you. I understand that. I was jealous of Tilly the spitturn dog too at first.

From Robin Oatcake

Robin

From the other's accounts of the confrontation with the mob, it does not sound like you played a needed role. It is no show of strength or skill to hit a blinded, maimed man with stale bread. As for the combat at Folkmoot, others surely would have heard and come to our aid, supposing I did not defeat the abomination before their arrival. You did nothing a dog would not be capable of. A dog likely would have been of greater help and less of liability.

Robin

You will get us both killed if you disregard my advice. Your 'help' is not needed nor wanted, I assure you.

To Morven Hellwain

I was thinking about back home, all the weird things people kept telling me. Leslie, the head cook, was cross with me. She said I missed work twice and that I insulted her in the market. I had no idea what she was talking about. I assumed she mistook me for someone else and I tried to tell her so. She said I was lying and fired me! It occurred to me that she might not have been lying. Was it you she saw? Are you the reason I lost my job?

From Robin Oatcake

Robin

Of all the things you could waste my time with, you chose this? Your 'job' is hardly worth the ink we are wasting writing about it. I will acknowledge that I was in control of our body several times before our departure. I did lose my patience with several of the dimwitted residents of the village so I very well may have offended the head 'cook'. I would not consider the loss of any great consequence. If anything, it is beneficial. Your 'occupation' would have delayed your departure for Folkmoot. You may thank me for my help in your next note. Hopefully, the writing will tire you.

To Morven

And what about my house? Did you tell the apothecary she could give it to her goat? If you wanted to run me out of my village so bad, you could have written to me earlier.

From Robin

Robin

If I recall correctly, and I do, the old hag asked me, "How I am supposed to keep a roof over my goat's head if you don't pay?" To that, I said, "Give the fucking goat my roof. I don't care." And I continue to not care. Your hovel was little more than a goat's shelter anyway.

I have spoken with Happen and he is aware of a root that induces a harmless sleep state. I have procured some. It is in the outer pouch of our bag.

To Morven

It is not our bag. It is my bag. And I don't need anything to help me sleep. A long day of traveling with my friends does that enough. Seeing as I have no work or home to return to, I will be with them for the foreseeable future regardless of our mission.

If you want to be helpful, Morven, you will tell me how to use magic myself and how I get you out of me.

From Robin

Robin

You cannot use magic. It would require innate talent or years of study, neither of which you have. Unless such fantasies lull you into a slumber, do not concern yourself with such endeavors.

I am looking into potential methods to separate us. However, until magic has been returned to its original state and I gather more information on what caused my spirit to enter your body in the first place, no significant progress can be made. You need not be involved.

To Morven

How can I not get involved when I already am? You’re in my head! You walk around in my body half the time! I should be the only one in my body!

And how do you know I don’t have inate innate talent? Maybe I just haven’t had need to use it.

From Robin

Robin

Knock yourself out as soon as you see this. Lug, Cressida, and Willowfine have been captured by a group of zealots and I need to go save their skins.

To Morven

No need to worry. Me and Happen did it ourselves. You should have seen how far Lug hit this one guy with his hammer once we got him out.

From Robin

Robin

That is not what I told you to do. You will get us both killed.

Willowfine said she saw you use magic. I can only assume you located a scroll and stumbled your way into using it correctly.

To Morven

You were wrong, Morven. I do have a talent for magic, no scroll needed, whatever those are. Mine is not as pretty or orderly as yours but I can cast spells. Cressida thinks that might be why you didn’t have trouble casting in my body.

You may thank me for my help in your next note. I will not ask you to knock yourself out because I have manners.

From Robin

Robin

I have spoken with Cressida and Willowfine regarding your spelling casting. As must I detest to acknowledge it, I suppose it makes sense. Either my spirit brought my magic potential with it or my spirit was attracted to your magic potential. I do believe the first one is the more likely of the two. It still stands that between the two of us, I am the more proficient and thus should handle any and all confrontations.

To Morven

Willowfine says we should try to come to a compromise. She said our attempts to screw with each other and limit the other’s time awake is annoying.

How about a deal? If I find myself in situations that I cannot handle, I will find a way to allow you to take control if you agree to cease trying to stay awake for days on end. If the group stops to sleep, you sleep and let me take control.

From Robin

Robin

After much strong arming from the others, I agree to your terms.

Robin

Why am I not surprised you have Wild Magic? Of all sorcerous origins, you draw power from the most unruly and unpredictable.

With that said, I request that you cast something that will offer you improved defense or evasion when in a confrontation. You cannot rely on Acid Splash only.

- Morven

[rumeysawrites]

INTERDIMENSIONAL BOOK 1: SEARCH FOR THE LEGENDARIES (CHAPTER 1 PREVIEW)

Chapter 1: Rosena #1

---

It was silent.

No noise of any cars passing by. No more of the sleep-talking of my siblings across the room. Not even the sound of the crows that lived on the single tree across the street.

It was all silent. Peaceful and nerve-wracking.

Except, the noisy thoughts, filling my head again. Thoughts I didn't want to deal with at that moment.

They made it impossible to close my eyes.

I had my final tests these two weeks. I had to rest up and prepare for them. Had to get high enough scores to leave this one. Possibly this place as a whole even.

But did I really have to leave?

Everyone left after all. Ella, Sky, even Tom...sort of. Why couldn't I?

Because it hurt? Or was it just my stubbornness?

I didn't know. Honestly, didn't want to think about it either.

I instead peeked my head through the covers, hugging Lily and Poppy close to my chest.

It was still kind of dark outside, but some of the early morning light came through, strong enough for me to notice.

I took my medallion out of my shirt, feeling its slight coldness. Then I held it out. The blue gem on it lightly shone, the same color as outside. It was beautiful, and felt cool, refreshing even.

I sighed.

Anytime now-

"Rose! Mira! Mather! Wake up kids! You're gonna be late for school!"

-She could cone...

It was my mom, Susane Freze.

Her impatient voice came from nearby. Too nearby actually.

I immeditially buried my head under the covers, as the door creaked open.

I shifted slightly, trying to hide my face.

I was already awake. Had been for awhile.

I was going to try and conince her that I couldn't to go to school today. I didn't want to. Exam days were one thing, I didn't have the energy or the patience for two more weeks besides them.

After all... What was the point? 

What was the point in trying and thinking things can be different, better even, when they didn't?

Everything was going to be the same. Those people, my classmates, "friends" even, were going to act the same way.

"I know you're awake, Rose."

I didn't respond. Maybe pretending to be sick would help convince her?

"Rose, I know it. You moved!" She repeated, and pulled my covers off my head.

"Noo! Please-"

My protests didn't work, as I had to try hiding my face with my stuffed animals, and stay still. Sadly, Poppy and Lily were too small, and she found me out.

"Good morning, Rose." Mom said in a quieter voice. "You get up and prepare. And I'll wake up the twins."

I weakly smiled and raised my head. Could a fake sneeze help?

How do you fake sneeze?

"Good morning too." I said with a yawn. "Can I....um...?"

Before I could speak another word, mom had moved over to my siblings' bunk beds.

"Mira! Mather! Mira!!! Mather!!!"

"Uhh...you gotta leave him, Ivy. Hmmnm! Do it for yourself!...."

"Ollie! Defend the tower!"

They won't wake up that easily. They're lost in TVland and Gameland. I can take sometime when she's busy with them, and...

I let my head fall back to the pillow.

The effects of sleeplessness always settled in when I least wanted. Why did it wait to weigh in until I made the slightest attempt of getting up but not when I was trying to sleep?

"Coming..." Mira's drowsy response came. "After sis..." 

No you did not!

"But Rose already-" My mom stopped. Her voice came from closer again. "Rose! You've to get up!"

"I'm not feeling well." I weakly said and tried to add realistic coughs.

"I see that." She said in a mix of tiredness and understanding in her voice. "You can rest and take your test tomorrow maybe?"

Test? What test? It was on Monday! Wasn't that- Today was supposed to be free! It's... It's Monday? Stupid me!

"I'll handle it." I said as weakly, as I threw myself out of the bed and got to preparing.

When I returned, I grabbed the clothes for my uniform from the top of the chair I left them on, and waited.

Mather wasn't up yet!

At least it sounded like Mira was going to shake him awake.

"Brooo! Wake up! Wake! Up! Bro! Wake!!! Up!!!"

"Ahhh! Alright alright sis." My brother yawned. "It's still early."

"Yeah. We've got the math test today!"

"...Can't we have it tomorrow?"

"I wish!!!"

No. Let's just get this over with. Please...

"But we can't." I sat back to my bed. "So can you let us dress up?"

"Fine!" Mather climbed down his bed, grabbed his clothes and left, as I also got to prepare in peace.

But I forgot a small detail. By "small detail" I mean my little sister's presence.

"You don't seem okay sis?" She asked, too close to my face for comfort. "What's up?"

"O-oh nothing! Nothing!" I backed away, hiding ny medallion under the cream white shirt of my uniform.

"It's not just tests, right?"

"They're not." I said with a deep sigh, hoping she'd stop prying. "I'm just...tired."

But of course, like most younger siblings I knew, she didn't. 

"Oh! what's tiring you so much?" She pressed. "Your friends? Mom and dad? Your power-"

"Miracate Freze!" I had no other chance but to raise my voice. "Don't bring that up."

"Okay okay! Sorry!" She agreed witb an small, awkward giggle. "So what did you think about yestrrday's episode? I'm so angry at Ivy! But also at Travis! Like what're they doing?"

"What...were they doing?" I obviliously asked as I packed my bag.

"You don't remember??"

"No?" I didn't really watch it though.

Mira and most of the girls at my class loved the romantic comedy series: Ivy And The Carnation. I watched a few episodes of it so I could have more to talk about with them. It was a lighthearted fun, but not much else. I wasn't supposed to be distracted by a silly show like that in the exams' week.

"Travis got mad! That Ivy went to a fashion show without telling him and Ivy left her passion! So he'd accept her again!" She passionately explained, while brushing her messy black hair. "Like! Like he'll accept you if you don't do it yourself! Get it togather girl!"

I half-heartedly listened her rant, feeling too tired to pay attention to her "too deep for her age" opinions about the show.

"Right!" I smiled at her while tying my brown hair. The ongoing sound of the turned on bathroom tap had stopped. "Now that Mather's out, we can talk more on breakfast."

"Oh he's out?" My sister stood up. "Alright. Should I just wash my face or hair too?"

"I mean you already tied your hair so.."

"Oh right! Right!" She giggled and left. I grabbed both of our bags and moved to the kitchen table, after leaving them by the enterance door.

The breakfast went mostly fine. I already expected that dad wouldn't show up. Why would he wake up so early when he taught his classes in the afternoon?

Did Mather have to make an unnecessary comment about my science test though?

"Not ready for science? Don't let Tom hear that, sis!"

"Not the time Mather."

I shushed him and pretended to stay calm. Pretended to not care.

But he was right, wasn't he? Tom would have probably been disappointed.

I tried to not let Mather's words or the thought of them being true into my head. But it was hard!

After eating, I brushed my teeth, brushing before breakfast makes no sense; and left with my siblings.

The sun had already risen. Thank the long summer days.

Out of habit, I kept my hand on Mira's arm for the entire way through. Even though I had gotten a sense of the direction after the eight years I've traced school road for, I couldn't be sure.

The weather was so warm and sunny. Where did the chill running up and down my body come from then? The coldness in my chest?

Before we arrived, I took out my medallion's gem again, and held it up with Mira next to me.

It was glistening in the sunlight. But also, but was cold? It was kind of where I expected the chills came from. But I didn't think it'd feel like holding an ice cube with bare hands.

How could this gem even make me feel things!

"What's up with it?" Mather asked, covering the school's view for us.

"It's cold!" Mira said and pulled back her hand. "Like sis' power-"

"Miracate!" I warned her again, more quietly than back home, as I put my medallion back under my shirt. "We don't talk about it!"

"Okay okay! Sorry again!" She finally agreed, but Mather...

"But why? Isn't having a super power cool?"

"No it's not!" I yelled and stormed off towards the school building.

Did they really think having a power was cool? Maybe something simple, like super strength or super speed could be. But not my power. Not when people thought I could freeze, melt or burn their items, or god forbid, them! At least the latter didn't come in outbursts.

They... They'd already made up their mind about me before I had a power, and it made things worse.

"Sis! That's the elementary school side!"

I flinched at Mather's voice and moved away when he tapped  on my shoulder. My breathing turned into quick gasls as I did.

I shouldn't have been acting like this! I should've known the direction! I should've stayed calm and not get carried away!

I swallowed a lump in my throat, as the chilling coldness left. In its place, there was a heavy, burning feeling inside me, tightening around my neck and chest. Choking.

"I know!" I said, more so breathlessly shouted.

I needed to lower my voice! Anyone could be seeing me panic! Any of my classmates! I didn't want to deal with them. Not now! Possobly never!

"I was just...walking around." I tried to say more calmly, taking quick breaths. If my clearly freaked-out voice could be called any "calm" that is.

Get it togather Rose! What are you doing? You're panicking about the smallest things!

I scolded myself, trying to steady my breathing as well, before Mira or Mather noticed.

"You okay sis?" But of course, Mira did. She asked, leaning over to come uncomfortably close to my face again.

"Yeah. Sorry." Mather said in an unsure voice, putting a hand on my shoulder, more gently.

They were probably trying to show concern and support, but it only came off as awkward and like something actually concerning had happened to me.

It was just a little freak-out, about an actually small mistake that shouldn't have made me even react, probably.

'It's...nothing." I softly said, and gave them a smile, or I hoped I did, to reassure them. "A...anyways, let's go..."

"Well, alright."

Mira grabbed my wrist and walked towards the other building in the schoolyard. Mather was right behind us.

I let my sister drag me inside, even if it was emberassing. Being hand-guided to the building I was supposed to know without needing to see after so many years. But I couldn't risk getting lost again or causing another scene.

Mira and Mather left soon after I entered my classroom. Though Mather stayed a moment longer, asking about Bill and Kevin. They probably weren't around yet, like I expected from the empty desk next to mine where Kevin was usually seated.

So Mather left quickly too.

How early were we though? There wasn't much of a noise in the class. Far less than thirty-five people would cause.

And even Miranda and her group, and the impossible-to-miss noise they brought along weren't around. They wouldn't miss a single test day, right? I kind of wished they did, but it was more than unlikely.

No sound of Olivia either, but I kind of expected that. It didn't really matter if she was giving up on the studies or coming to complete them. The result was going to be the same.

I wouldn't have minded if any of them didn't show up.

And as expected of my luck, they all came in one by one.

"You'll do amazing Miranda!"

"Yeah! You're so smart!"

"Can you give us some hints before the test?"

"I know that guys. And sure! Come in close."

Miranda's group walked in, chatting.

They weren't the "popular pretty cheerleaders" or the "rich girls". No, they were the "overly involved, overly competetive" types. The types who didn't accept any opposition in competitions, academic rivalries, and their perfected images. The ones who'd try to mentally wear you down if they saw you as an actual, serious obstacle.

Miranda and Rebecca sat their shared desk right behind me. I assuned the two Sarahs were behind her, and someome else, probably their friends Carrie and Beth, stood next to the desks. They were all whispering among themselves.

They were trying to be as quiet as possible once they settled. And I tried to avoid eavesdropping, but it was impossible not to!

"I worked so hard for this! I'll become the class number one this time and get accepted to the magnet highschool in the city. The best one."

"You got this Miranda."

"Yup! You're the smartest girl in class!"

"Yup! And the smartest in school with Nancy."

"Yeah. Nancy's great too!"

"Yeah. Did you see how she got back to Rose last week?"

"It was her mom though. Nancy's too nice to deal with someone like her."

"Right! Right!"

"Oh yeah! Like Mr. Martinez only gave her project an A because she can't see!'"

"Right? Olivia's computer model was the same amd she barely got a B-!"

"Yeah! And she listens to our answers before taking the tests!"

"Shhh! Don't let her hear that. She'll do that freaky ice thing again."

"What will she do? Freeze our pencils this tine?"

Too bad I heard it all! First of all! Olivia put too many unnecessary decorations on her project! And glitter! Who puts glitter on a computer model when Mr. Martinez said it was supposed to resemble a real computer?! Secondly! You know better than anyone Miranda, how my ears hurt from covering them because of you people in test weeks! And thirdly! Do you think I have any idea of what I'm doing with that power either?

There were far too many thoughts I wanted to yell at them, but I tried to keep it all quiet. I was planning to avoid them all day, unless they directly talked to me. There was no point in causing more drama.

But did Olivia and her "bestie" Mary have to show up and join in?

"So? What're you girlies talking about?" Olivia asked in almost a shout, followed by a fake laughter.

"Oh, hey!" Sarah Warren said, the Sarah with a higher-pitched voice. "We were just talking about the test."

"Yeah!" Miranda cheered. "We were saying how hard we studied for these the entire year!"

I know you did because you constantly talk about it, Miranda. But I don't know about the others.

Her voice was louder than usual, like she wanted for someone to hear. Not me this time probably, since I was right here. There'd be no need for such a noise.

"I mean we did." Mary agreed. "Right, Liv?"

"Yeah! We didn't even watch Ivy And Carnation at all past few weeks!" Olivia said again in sn overly loud and dramatic voice, like that was a huge sacrifice of some sort. "We don't get it easy, like someone!"

You know I'm the same there. Except I don't study on cheating tactics and still fail, Liv.

I quietly sighed and tried to not even utter a word, but they were making it harder.

Before anything could happen though, Bill, Kevin, and even, somehow, Jason and Carl finally showed up; closely followed by our teacher Mrs. Willis.

The early classes passed in a blur, as the teachers let us study as long as we stayed quiet.

I tried to whisper to my deskmate Kevin, to study togather. But it felt strange, to ask him to read what he was studying a bit louder in every class, especially when Miranda and Rebecca were behind me and the teachers specifically asked the class to be quiet. Kevin himself also sounded a bit unwilling at first. He probably wanted to study on his own, but was fine with helping out after.

Despite all that, the classes up to the science test went pretty well. Even the test itself went alright. Although I wished I was able to take the tests in an easier way. Even using the Braille alphabet would be fine instead of with a reader, having to take it after everyone. But then again, the teachers didn't know Braille, I couldn't expect them to know. And I couldn't read or write in regular text. They looked like tiny dots, if that even.

So having someone read the questions for me was the only way out. Except the teachers were so paranoid about the students cheating, something they already did, that they wouldn't read them to me while the others were taking  the tests, but instead have another student...possibly Miranda or Bill, read it to me in front of them when they either start teaching a new topic, or have the students quietly do their own thing.

It was the same in almost every single test. Except P.E and music of course, but the rest.

They were all the same! The same people, the same problems, the same way they were handled and following drama all of them kept causing, and the people who were acting in...ways because of unnecessary competition.

Still, I tried to power through the science test. I couldn't prove Mather right.

After helping me that many times, I couldn't make a mistake that'd disappoint Tom, especially not in his favorite topic: science.

Ah, I wished he hadn't left. Life would've been much essier with him around. He'd listen, give the most sensible advice, and try his best to help me without being in my face about it.

I knew he didn't want to leave, but Tania was right. It was for their own good.

The thought of them though, helped me focus on the test. Friday next week was the twins' birthday. We were going to meet for the first time since the Easter break. Third time ever since they moved last summer. And the only news I wanted to give Tom were good ones.

And I felt good about it when I finished the test.

The teacher, Mr. Wells left after I was done. The others were still chatting about it when I got back to my desk. They were discussing answers. And all of them besides Miranda and Bill, showed clear excitment at the hint of any right answer.

"Rose! Rose!" As soon as I sat down, Daniel came in, with more of slap than a tap on my shoulder. "What was the answer for question twenty-one?"

"Huh...?"

I blankly stared at him, and tilted my head to the side, with no eye contact as usual. Even if I could normally keep, I would've still broken it there.

Bold of you to think I know the questions' number order.

"Um, which one was it?"

I tried to stay polite and calm, so Daniel would leave soon, as usual. Him, and the small crowd forming behind him, were the people who only appeared in my life and talked to me during exam weeks. And only either to ask questions, or to give a snarky comment.

"The one about plant cell!"

"Oh, it was C." I casually said.

"What?"

"H-hey!" I raised my hands defensively at his more aggressive voice, and tried to explain. "Uh, the other organels are found in both animal and plant cells. But Chloroplast is only in plant cells."

"Ah okay." Daniel said and gave another slap-like pat on my shoulder which I hated. "What about question fourteen? Mike and I've been arguing about it for an hour now."

I still don't know which one that is... Also then why didn't you ask it first?!

"Um, again...? Which one?" I tried to ask, too tired of the process to care.

"The lightbulb one right?" Miranda chimed in from behind me with an aggressively loud tone, like she was talking through gritted teeth. "It was A: copper!"

"Oh? That one!" I blinked and turned my attention to her. I couldn't tell if she genuinely believed in her answer and it might be true, or if she was trying to confuse me like before. "Copper is good. But would't silver be a better option?"

"You mean silver's a better conductive than copper?" She asked with a bitter chuckle. "Glad I'd never give you a hint in the exams. Because I can't believe you're really like...this when you don't get support from the teachers hm?!"

It's just a question. Chill please?

"What...?" I stood up, still trying to be quiet. I turned my face away from her, to the blue painted window next to my desk.

She's trying to anger me. It's why she's overreacting. Like why do you care? She's the one who read the questions to me! What are you doing  Miranda? I need to keep calm and not get into trouble because of her! Especially fresh off a test. I need to stay lowkey! At least for these two weeks!

I kept staring at the window and smiled. The bright daylights barely came through the paint coating, but it still gave off a cool, dim blue light in this hot day.

"What are you smiling at?" Miranda tried to press on. I would've been fine ignoring her words, but of course she wouldn't be the only one.

"Y'know, I've had to hang out with her a few times, and you're right Miri." Olivia chimed in, probably from the other side of the class, because nothing else would explain or excuse her volume.

And knowing her, I braced myself for more personalized insults than Miranda's.

"For real! She never studies or does anything, and gets everything from others. And when we tell, she cries!" She then turned to me. "You know it too! That the teachers make tests easier for you just because you can't "see"!"

"If by "make it easier" you mean change the map based or geometric shape based questions, then yes..."  swallowed a lump in my throat as I looked in her general direction. I should've started counting to ten, but my head was getting too full to think about that. "If you mean anything else, no. I get less time than you. I have the noise of the class and teachers while I'm taking a test with someone reading out loud, I mean whispering. And did you know it's unhealthy to cover your ears so much like I have to?"

"Those are not our problems." Miranda said matter-of-factly, even I could see her dramatic hand waving. Weren't you talking about fairness though? "Our problem is that you're acting like this..."

"Acting like... What?" I asked, still keeping myself contained even though it was getting harder.

"Like you're some hero doing some impossible task when you're having it easier just because you can't "see"!" Olivia shouted and came closer. I knew from her long, curly mess of a hair. "And even that's a lie! You say you can't see just to have it easier, because I know you do. You can see!"

"I know you'll say "I didn't say I was blind, I said I can't see". But what's the difference?" Miranda added, with an annoying confidence.

"What?"

"Can she?"

"Was she tricking us all along?"

"Impossible!"

"Not only us but she tricked the teachers and everyone else too!"

What...? How dare you!

I couldn't say a word. I tried to speak, shout, scream at them even, but no sound came out.

My body felt like a stone. Still, unmoving, heavy, cold. And I couldn't do anything besides feel the tears welling up in my eyes and a ringing in my ears that blurred the scandalous chatter around me.

How dare they! What do they think they are? Experts in eye related disabilities? How dare they think they have the "right" to say I was lying about a condition that I went through myself! Not them!

Did they think people only either have to have perfectly healthy eyes, use glasses, or be blind they had had any vision problems? Didn't anything inbetween exist for them?

Besides, how dare they claim they knew my health better than I, myself! Can claim I was lying about it!

They had no idea what they were talking about! And wanted to break someone just because of petty competition!

Or else they wouldn't talk so carelessly!

Who cared about grades, the school play, sports, creativity contests, any rewards, or whatnot! Did it all really worth this?!

Did they know how it felt to hear their parents and other loved ones openly say their "news" upset them? Or have they ever heard their family say they expected much less from them?

Even passing by random kids on the street, have they heard things like "Look at her!" or "What happened to her eyes?"?

Have they had to wait hours on end in hospitals, knowing the doctors would say the exact same thing?

Have they had to read the same three short stories for their entire life, and ask someone to read out loud or help you find an audio of it?

Feeling like you have to memorize everywhere to not get lost on their own?

Feeling like they ask for help too much and wanting to stop? Or wanting to show what they can do themselves?

No

No they have not.

They didn't know how any of it felt. They didn't live through them like I did! They didn't know, but talked like they did! Like they lived the same life and had the same experiences as me!

Like they knew!

They always thought they knew everything! Even the lives of people different from them!

Who did they think they were?!

I felt a fire within me. Burning in my whole heart and overflowing out of it. My teeth gritted, and hands clemched into fists, as I felt a blaze of rage flowing through my body. My chest, face, arms, legs, even fingertips.

Then that fire vanished.

Instead, the icy wave of coldness from earlier came back, stronger. And rushed through my veins fast like a winter storm. Every hint of the burning rage in me, every ember; was replaced by the cold.

The distant, disillisioned, the cruel but gentle cold. Fearsome, but with a comforting familiarity.

It filled me, up to my fingertips again; and shot, no, flowed, out of me.

It felt a bit relieving, like I was letting go of the sudden flare-up of my anger. Relaxing.

Until my sense of hearing came back.

"Not to mention she- Wait! What are you doing?!! What?! Stop!!!" Miranda's scream brought me back to the real world, and Olivia's comment made me realize.

"Ice Princess, I tell ya."

"W-what?!" The coldness changed. It wasn't a relieving flow of a refreshing cold air anymore. It became a stoney chill running up and down my spine, echoing through my body. "W-what did I do?!"

"What did you do?!" Miranda yelled and raised her hand. Her, Olivia, and the others were inching away from me. "See?!"

I didn't see much of a difference from afar, but when I got to touch, I felt it.

Solid, hard, and freezing cold. Miranda's hand, was encased in ice?

"Did... Did I do that...?"

"Yes you did!!" Miranda yelled and raised her hand higher. "What do I do now? This was my writing hand too!!"

The air was heavy. Everyone else had fallen silent. Not even the sound of blowing wind from outside, or the noise of students or teachers' steps on the corridor.

The only things I felt; were the still air, the chill in my spine, and the gazes of my classmates I wish were still invisible to me.

"S-sorry..." I lowered my head, unable to say another word. What else could I even say?

This had never happened before! I thought freezing others was possible but I never thought it would happen! Especially now!

What did I even do?

Could Miranda's hand return to normal?

What if her hand stayed permanently frozen because of me? What if...she'd lose her habd because of me?

Could I help melt it? I didn't know but I could try! She probably won't let me.

How did I even do that?

What happened?

What did I do?

Could this day get any worse?

And it probably could, as the gem in my medallion got freezing cold again, shining so bright it was noticed even under my shirt.

---

(I know there might be some typos I've missed. I only read through it once more after finishing the writing. Anyways! Tagging for reviews (please): @dearunreliablenarrator @daishitheprofessionalfool @avalordream @author-a-holmes @heycerulean @the-ellia-west @seastarblue @literally-just-zay @the-letterbox-archives @sliceoflifeshepard @thecomfywriter @xyoonx @ominous-feychild @writeblrfantasy @yomikunp @illarian-rambling @distantflickering @the-golden-comet @leahnardo-da-veggie @charbroiledchicken and I can't think of anyone else for now. Feel free to tag anyone else as well guys. I'm still hoping (desparate) for reviews. Thank you!💙

[she-posts-nerdy-stuff]

God I wish we knew more about Dunyasha

[icewindandboringhorror]

Some (late) holiday photos of the boye~!

[peapod20001]

Did sleeping help

No </3

[ana-rends]

i would rather live with ana for the rest of my life than binge like this ever again

[sucrose-soymilk]

hadn’t really regressed in a While and i didn’t realize how much i missed/dareisay needed it until i had the free time and ability to do so over the last few days and i have to say. i’m feeling a bit better

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[catastrxblues]

good morning it is now 4 am and i have just finished watching atonement good night

[pepprs]

crying again lol ok

[noxtivagus]

evening has come again huh

[yoohyeon]

I’M NOT SEEING MY AUNT ON CHRISTMAS !!! 🙌🙌🙌🙌🙌🙌

[ame-to-ame]

oh. hm.

[azurune]

Sigh I really hope that’s the end of it. I just want to be able to post on here without worrying about my ex. Apologies to friends that may have to witness the tags below