#water makes in sand. And I’d wonder sometimes

[chieffestivalearthquake]

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[apoemaday]

If I Had Three Lives

by Sarah Russell

After “Melbourne” by the Whitlams

If I had three lives, I’d marry you in two. The other? Perhaps that life over there at Starbucks, sitting alone, writing -- a memoir, maybe a novel or this poem. No kids, probably, a small apartment with a view of the river, and books -- lots of books, and time to read. Friends to laugh with, and a man sometimes, for a weekend, to remember what skin feels like when it’s alive. I’d be thinner in that life, vegan, practice yoga. I’d go to art films, farmers markets, drink martinis in swingy skirts and big jewelry. I’d vacation on the Maine coast and wear a flannel shirt weekend guy left behind, loving the smell of sweat and aftershave more than I did him. I’d walk the beach at sunrise, find perfect shell spirals and study pockmarks water makes in sand. And I’d wonder sometimes if I’d ever find you.

[ombre-ame]

If I had three lives, I’d marry you in two.

The other? Perhaps that life over there

at Starbucks, sitting alone, writing — a memoir,

maybe a novel or this poem. No kids, probably,

a small apartment with a view of the river,

and books — lots of books, and time to read.

Friends to laugh with, and a man sometimes,

for a weekend, to remember what skin feels like

when it’s alive. I’d be thinner in that life, vegan,

practice yoga. I’d go to art films, farmers markets,

drink martinis in swingy skirts and big jewelry.

I’d vacation on the Maine coast and wear a flannel shirt

weekend guy left behind, loving the smell of sweat

and aftershave more than I did him. I’d walk the beach

at sunrise, find perfect shell spirals and study pockmarks

water makes in sand. And I’d wonder sometimes

if I’d ever find you.

Sarah Russell

After “Melbourne” by the Whitlams

@ombre-ame upload

Oct 11/24

[formulalfc]

“I like shiny things, but I’d marry you with paper rings”.

Ever since you and Lando started dating he would make it his mission that after ever date you two went on he would make you a paper ring. To you it was the sweetest thing anyone had ever done for you, to him it was a promise that one day there would be a real ring in its place.

You had kept every single ring he had made and put them safely in a box that you sometimes open and looked at when you were missing Lando.

Today’s date had been wonderful, finally finding enough time for each other over the summer break to go out for dinner and enjoy each other’s company for a few hours without worrying about any interruptions from work and responsibilities.

You had just finished dinner and Lando had suggested you both take a walk down the private beach that was connected to the restaurant he had hired out for the evening. You had quickly agreed, slipping your heels off your feet as you reached the sand, intending to dip your feet in the water.

The beach was lit up with twinkling fairly lights and lanterns, casting a warm glow down the short stretch to the water. You and Lando walked down towards the waterfront, an excited skip in your step.

You felt Lando let go of your hand but carried on walking thinking he was tying his shoelace or would rather watch you from further back, until you heard Lando say your name from behind you.

You turn around, a small gasp escaping you when you saw Lando down on one knee with a red velvet box in his hand and a soft smile on his face.

[mcflymemes]

AS SAID BY DORIAN PAVUS

ASSORTED DIALOGUE FROM DRAGON AGE: INQUISITION

what a perfect way to ruin our day.

so wonderful to see old friends.

perhaps we should search around a bit?

take that, you filth!

i could do this all day!

i’m too pretty to die!

and everything was perfectly serene until they disturbed the ancient altar.

just once, we should enter a cave and see normal-sized spiders.

is it me, or did the temperature plunge as we stepped inside?

kind of makes you want to retch, yes?

we’re going to get lost and starve to death, aren’t we.

where do you suppose those riddles lead?

i’m not made for the wilderness. i’m more taverns and big cities.

this place gives me a headache.

well... try not to touch it or anythng.

at least the walk back will be easier than the walk up.

that’s... depressing. i’m not sure why.

well, this is cheery.

what do they call this? a bog? lovely word.

i read somewhere you can sink into sand. just... whoop! down you go.

doesn’t seem to have harmed you.

does that noise ever stop?

thank you. that makes so much more sense now.

and here’s where the magic happens.

can we get away from the water? i’m feeling seasick already.

you can’t be serious.

they’re not harmful... i don’t think.

something doesn’t feel right.

if i had something to say, i’d say it.

i’d expect no less from a brutish thug.

when did i do that?

my reasons for being here are the same as yours, thank you.

you must be joking.

people who say that to me are usually wrong.

i didn’t like that life.

ah. that clearly worked out well.

it was fun to goad you. you get this little knot between your eyebrows.

i knew you’d come around.

i always smile. people like my smile.

i’m imagining what you would look like... in a dress.

how do you want to be remembered?

i’m curious about you.

i’m going to regret this, aren’t i?

sometimes... sometimes love isn’t enough.

never mind. forget i said anything.

watch where you’re pointing that thing!

i have no idea what you’re talking about.

discretion isn’t your thing, is it?

now we can live together in peace and harmony.

drinks and insults later?

i realize there’s more to you than that.

what’s this whole look of yours about?

for what it’s worth, i’m sorry.

you’re a special and unique snowflake. live the dream.

[vodika-vibes]

Hello the wonderful and talented Vod'ika!

Congrats on 500 followers!!

Could I request Arc Trooper Jesse, Peridot, and a Late Summer Evening?

😍 You have sparked my adoration for Jesse.

Thank you!

And The Cicadas Sang

Summary: Everything about Jesse is strong, including his love for his cyare.

Pairing: ARC Trooper Jesse x F!Reader

Word Count: 584

Prompt: Peridot - Strong Love

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: I'm always happy to share my love for Jesse. He's my baby. So, my idea for this story came from long summers spent listening to the cicadas scream outside my bedroom while I was a teenager. I hope you like it!

Jesse leans back in the chair, his eyes closing as he lets the song of summer wash over him. His cyare, his perfect beautiful cyare, likes to laugh and shake her head when he calls the cicadas that.

Still, aside from a few lightly teasing remarks, she doesn’t judge him overly much for his fascination with these insects.

“I knew I’d find you out here,” There’s the familiar sound of a glass door sliding open, and Jesse opens his eyes to tilt his head back, a grin crossing his face when he sees her standing there. She’s dressed down…way down, a tank top and her panties and not much else. “How are you not melting into a puddle? There’s no Air Conditioning out here.”

“Come on, cyare. It’s not that bad.”

She makes a face at him and gestures vaguely to her hair, which is starting to frizz from the humidity, in spite of the late hour.

“You’re wrong.”

Jesse’s grin broadens, “You look beautiful.”

“Ugh.”

“Cyare~” He shifts on the chair so he’s half facing her and holds his hands out to her, “Come and sit with me.”

She sighs, “We’re going to be eaten alive by mosquitos, Jesse.” But, even so, she opens the screen door and steps onto the back porch to join him, “You’re lucky I don’t have any neighbors, or else they’d be getting a show.”

“They’d all think, ‘damn, that Jesse guy is a lucky asshole’.” Jesse replies, catching her hips when she steps around him to sit in the other chair. He tugs her onto his lap and swings her legs sideways over the arm of the chair, “There, isn’t that better?”

“It’d be better if it wasn’t so hot.” She complains, even as she tucks her head against his shoulder and lightly rubs her cheek against the thin material of his shirt.

“If it was colder, we couldn’t be outside together.” Jesse tightens his arms around her and lightly nudges her with his shoulder, “And you look stunning under the starlight.”

She averts her gaze with a shy laugh, and Jesse feels his heart swell. She’s so adorable, even with everything they’ve done together, after all the time they’ve been dating, she still gets embarrassed when he compliments her.

Maker, he loves her so much.

He nudges her one more time, and she lifts her gaze to meet his, “I love you.” Jesse murmurs, “So much.”

Her lips curl up into a small smile, “How much?”

Jesse leans in and bumps his forehead against hers, his gaze remaining locked with her own, “I love you more than there are stars in the sky. More than all of the water on Kamino. More than all of the sand on Tatooine-”

She tilts her head and catches his lips with her own, silencing his rambling. Her hands, soft and warm and gentle, come up to caress his face, and gentle fingers trace the tattoo on his face.

“I love you just as much,” She whispers against his lips, “Thank you for choosing me.”

“Thank you for allowing yourself to be chosen.” Jesse replies, before he catches her lips in another, deeper, kiss.

Sometimes, true love is finding each other after a decade apart.

Other times, true love is finding a way to stay together even if you’re from different worlds.

Sometimes, though. Sometimes true love is sitting on your lover’s lap in the muggy summer heat listening to the cicadas sing the song of summer all around you.

[lifblogs]

Worth It

@ailesswhumptober Day 19 Dissociation, Losing a Sense, "I wish I could get you back"

Fandom: The Bad Batch Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Word Count: 1136 Summary: Crosshair finds himself mourning Tech again. READ ON AO3

“I wish I could get you back,” Crosshair said down at the datapad in his hands.

He was all alone, sitting by the water, waves gentle as they lapped against the sand. Crosshair hated this place. Hated it because it was too easy to forget he was a soldier, hated it because he could feel himself listening to the soothing voice of the waves, hated it because he didn’t know who he was supposed to be.

Hated it because Tech wasn’t here, like he had wanted.

“I—it’s not fair that the last time I saw you was when I wanted you to leave me. That I’d… hurt you. And before that… Everything was so confusing. But I think you knew I wasn’t myself.

“I lost track of days while… imprisoned, but I know it’s been over a year since I saw you last. I’m sorry for what I did, what I said. I’m… glad you understood me, but I wished I hadn’t been the problem then.”

Crosshair looked out across the vast ocean, wondering if that force could swallow him up.

But then what would have been the point of Omega finishing Tech’s final mission?

She had saved him when Tech couldn’t.

She had done that for him, because of who she was, who her family had built her into. There were things in her that resembled all of them, he was realizing. Her open, unashamed laughter made him think of Wrecker, her ability to lead and take charge in a crisis made him think of Hunter, he thought of Echo when she was kind, thought of himself when she was snarky, and… there was so much about her that was like Tech. The way she sometimes had a bunch of information to share, and she was going to share it one way or another. The way she’d raise a finger to make a point, or admit that a dangerous mission was fun.

Crosshair wiped away some wetness on his face.

“I wish you could see her, Tech. I wish you could see the—the brave, selfless girl you turned her into. She loves so hard, and she’s always willing to sacrifice. It’s hard to see her like that sometimes, but I guess she learned that from you.”

He sighed, clutching the datapad hard in his trembling hand.

“Sometimes I… well… I’m angry with you,” he got out, feeling a fire of betrayal burn deep in his chest, so fierce he felt as if he couldn’t breathe. The words came out anyway, like torture upon his lips, “I sent that message to make you go into hiding, to protect yourselves, protect Omega. I wish… I wish you hadn’t cared about me so much. Then—then…” Crosshair had to pause, finding it hard to get the words out, chest feeling like it was being pounded in with a hammer, his heart ready to rupture. “Then you’d still be here,” he eventually said.

What he didn’t voice was, Maybe I wouldn’t be.

But maybe that would have been better.

He had wanted Tech to stay away, had wanted him to live. And—and maybe Crosshair was the reason he was dead.

No, no. Tech knew what that message had meant.

He’d ignored it.

He’d ignored it because he had loved him.

And Crosshair didn’t feel like he had even deserved anything like love at that point, especially from his family. He had hurt them so much, had put fear in their hearts.

And now he was here, paying for it with Tech’s absence.

“I learned what you had done. From Hemlock, of all people. I didn’t believe it at first, but… Omega told me the whole thing. I wish you were here just so I could hit you and tell you what an absolute idiot you were. But then… then I wouldn’t have to tell you that because you’d be alive. You’d be alive.

“I know we’re soldiers. I know we’re supposed to die. Somehow I never thought how that would include you. I suppose I thought it was impossible that someone so talkative, so full of information and wonder, and with more intelligence than anyone I’ve ever known—that that person could… could die.

“I don’t know what to do without you. I keep going because I have no choice, but your death was just another torment for me. You hurt me. You hurt me, you kriffing idiot!” he cried. “What were you thinking? I know what you were thinking. Omega told me everything. I see how there was no other way, but there should have been! Maybe you should have just stayed here, and left me inside that mountain.”

Crosshair’s throat was sore from speaking so much. He didn’t know what else to say. Could loop across these same ideas over and over because what else was he supposed to do?

Yet after his tears dried, he looked out toward the ocean, out toward the sky.

“Thank you,” he said. “Thank you for caring.”

“Who are you talking to?” Omega asked, making Crosshair jump.

For once he’d let his other senses get distracted, and hadn’t known she was approaching.

He hurriedly wiped his face.

“No one,” he responded.

Omega looked down at Tech’s datapad in Crosshair’s trembling hand.

She sat down beside him, gently holding his wrist.

“Guess I’ll talk to no one too.”

Crosshair let out a surprised laugh at her quick understanding, her little joke.

And they sat there in silence till the wind off the ocean left them chilly and racing back to the Marauder to get warm.

The others were out, and Omega was now flushed from all the running. She caught up with Batcher, and then said she’d get an ice cone for him.

Crosshair nodded, and went to put Tech’s datapad away.

He left it amongst his things they hadn’t had the heart to get rid of.

Maybe Hunter liked to torture himself with Tech’s broken, and bloodied goggles. But Tech was no longer in them, his spirit had not been in what helped him see, but in what he’d used and loved. Well, that was how Crosshair saw it.

He put a hand to the datapad, thanking it again.

Then he walked out into the sunlight��something he had thought he’d never see again. And that sun shone on him not just thanks to Omega, but thanks to Tech too.

He laughed as Omega came racing up, Batcher trying to eat one of the ice cones.

He took the blue one Omega offered, holding it well away from Batcher. He sat by the Marauder with his daughter, free, and missing Tech with every second.

He supposed that’s how love worked eventually: it always ended with sadness, bitter feelings, regrets.

But knowing Tech had made it all worth it.

[lnfours]

summer loving ⎸ t.h (teaser)

summary: your mom and tom’s mom grew up together, swearing that their kids would be life long friends. and it was true, the holland boys were a special part of your life. but on the annual trip to their beach house this summer, everything feels different. and that’s because it is.

au:  based on the book and tv show ‘the summer i turned pretty’ by jenny han. childhood friends to lovers

wc: a nice intro with 1k words

warnings: none yet, maybe some jealousy, hiding feelings for one another, some fluff and a bit of angst if you squint

pairing: tom holland x fem!reader

masterlist ⎸ chapter one ⎸ listen

the summer breeze was warm, salty air as the sun met the water of the ocean. you sat down on the sand, hands brushing over the towel you had laid down so you didn’t get sand all over your clothes. you had been reading, enjoying the peace and quiet as the sun went down. occasionally, people would pass you and smile as they walked the beach with their loved ones or their dogs, but not many people bothered you. 

you were too lost in daydreaming and watching the sky change from blue to a mix of pink, purple and red to realize someone sat down beside you. when you saw a flop of brown curls out of your peripheral, you realized it was just tom.

you and your brother and the holland brothers had been best friends ever since both of your moms had you. you were all like one big family at this point, tom and his brothers being almost inseparable between your brother which would sometimes leave you to hang out with the mom. you we’re complaining, the boys would do their own things sometimes and you and the moms would go get your nails done together or go shopping.

but, the thing with tom was that he’s always had a soft spot for you. whenever the older boys picked on you or was a little out of line, he would always hang back to make sure you were okay or to wipe your tears away and to remind you that you’re ‘way better than those losers’. 

which would make sense as to why you felt yourself growing attached to tom after the years went by, but this summer it felt different. a lot different. and you couldn’t tell if it was a good thing or a bad thing.

“hey,” he smiled, looking over at you, “knew i’d find you here. you’re always on the beach on your first day.”

you sent him a small smile back, “yeah, i enjoy the peace and quiet.”

his face dropped and he moved to stand again, “sorry, i can go if you-”

“no, no, it’s okay,” you reassured him as he lowered himself back to the ground, “it’s okay. was getting kind of lonely out here, i must admit.”

he nodded, looking down at the book on the towel, “reading anything interesting?”

you shrugged, “depends, would you find a romance between a hockey player and a girl he goes to college with interesting?”

he scrunched his nose, “you were always the one who was into sappy shit like that, no wonder you always hung out with the moms.”

you rolled your eyes as you both let out a laugh, “yeah, i guess so.”

you didn’t notice the way his eyes softened as he looked over at you and studied your side profile. tom was different this summer, and you thought it had to do something between him and his girlfriend breaking up, but he didn’t really seem all that upset whenever he was mentioned. you wanted to pick his brain, be his support if he was going through something.

but just like the other holland boys, he was stubborn as hell. you knew getting him to open up would be a battle. you figured he knew if he ever needed to talk to you, he could. it was unspoken, but the two of you were the closest of the rest of the kids, so it just made sense. 

“you should take a picture, it’ll last longer.” you smirked over at him, catching him staring. he snorted back a laugh, fishing his phone out of his hoodie as he raised the camera to you.

you let out a laugh, covering your face, “i didn’t actually mean it!”

“oh, come on! i’m sure you’d love a candid to post on your instagram, make you look all sorts of mysterious.”

you shook your head, smiling at the camera as he snapped the picture, “perfect.”

“let me see,”

he snatched his phone back as he raised it over his head, “nope! for my eyes only.”

“tom! come on!” you laughed as you fought with him for the phone. he rose to his feet suddenly before wiggling it over your head.

“you gotta catch me if you wanna see it.” 

you were suddenly up and moving, ready for the challenge. you chased him down the beach as the both of you laughed, the two of you tumbling into the sand in a fight over the phone once more. it was playful, teasing almost as he laughed at you. you hadn’t noticed you were on top of him until your eyes met. you felt your heartbeat quicken as he quickly looked at your lips before locking his eyes back with yours.

suddenly it was like the air grew thick, like you couldn’t breathe. you felt him place a hand on your cheek, the phone now long forgotten about as you let him guide you down to his face. his lips brushed yours, his nose pressing against yours and you could feel his minty breath fan your face. you had been dreaming about this happening for years, your heart pounding against your chest as you thought about what it’d finally feel like to kiss tom holland.

that was until a voice pulled the two of you apart, you scrambling off of him in efforts to hide the fact that you were about to kiss him. 

and there stood sam with crossed arms, an unamused look on his face, “dinner’s ready. the moms want you two back.”

“yeah, yeah, we’re coming.” tom said, his own head spinning as he looked over at you. you sent him a tight lipped smile as he offered you his hand to help you up out of the sand.

“thanks,” you mumbled, grabbing your things from the spot you had been sitting at.

“yeah, no problem,” he said, “c’mon, the dinner rolls are the best when they’re fresh out of the oven.”

you nodded, following him back up the path and to the house wondering how you got into this situation with the oldest holland boy.

add yourself to my tagged list here

tagged:

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[deluxewhump]

Erik's Journals Pt 10 (2023)

19. The Heart That Fed

CW: nsfw

June 2023

Max Svenson reached out to me last week.

It was in an email, of all things. Probably his way of being discreet, not knowing who might see a familiar number pop up on my cell phone screen.

Erik, he wrote.

I know he’s with you. I’m not as oblivious as I let him think. I spoke to him yesterday and he’s still lying, (mostly by omission) albeit poorly.

He is an adult and a citizen. I know this, so no need to remind me. I have no stake in this other than to know he is safe.

Is he?

He used a personal email, not a work account. No sign off, but from the address it was clear— first name last name.

I wondered briefly if there was a way I could manipulate this development in a way that would suit me. Max did not like corresponding with me. He had always avoided it until I had made it unavoidable. But being in New Mexico, worried about Carlo and unable to physically see him, he had crossed his least favorite line in the sand. 

I had gone behind Carlo's back in sending my old journals regarding him to Max. And now Max had done the same to him in reaching out to me to confirm the lies he suspected Carlo of.

How did Max know for sure? I assumed he didn’t, that he was making a fairly confident guess and knew I was unlikely to refute it if it were true.

I remembered Max’s eyes as he watched me strike Carlo’s hands with that belt, his fury for me watering down to helpless pity and regret. I wondered if he ever told his father about his pet, about how he had first belonged to me. Svenson Senior certainly knew my name, we’d met once or twice.

Probably not. I doubted the uncomfortable subject of a boy-pet was ever broached on their obligatory father-son phone conversations. 

I could have asked Carlo if he wished me to lie to Max Svenson for him. It might cement his rekindled trust in me. It might also make me an accomplice to his guilt in a way I did not need or particularly wish to be. I didn’t need to ingratiate myself with Carlo. He was already mine again. 

It’s funny to me; here is this young man who has grown up right here in the Valley, oblivious of me and I of him, for all the years Carlo was mine. Had probably been in college when I brought Carlo back here from California. Strangers, all of us. And now he was asking after Carlo’s welfare like it was his right to know.

He’s home here, Max, I wanted to write. He's perfectly well. Why don’t you ask him? I hit reply and answered him with even more brevity than he’d shown me. 

Max,

What earthly good is my word to you? But since you asked. 

Yes, Carlo is quite safe. Of course he is.

E.H.

I considered telling Carlo that Max had reached out. What would be his reaction? Anxiety, probably. Guilt. He might look to me for absolution but he would also want it from Max, and know he had done something that didn’t quite deserve it.

White afternoon sunlight lay in stripes across my desk through the blinds, throwing the dust motes on my laptop screen into sharp relief. Down the hall, a clock chimed four and I thought of what transpired the night before.

I never initiated anything carnal with Carlo. What was between us in Virginia was his doing as well. It was important the balance did not tip so far. Too much weight of power was on my side already, obviously— if I added that, it would be irreconcilable, even with him being free. 

He initiated once more, the night before Max’s inquiry, when I came to his room to say goodnight and bring him a cup of peppermint tea, which I used to do sometimes when he was studying. He grabbed my hand as I went to leave, his eyes betraying what it was he wanted.

Still, I made him ask for it out loud before I’d give it, him blushing scarlet, the fire inside coaxed to the surface. He wanted some form of penetration— anything, so long as I was the author of it. He wanted the act of it; to submit— as one must to enjoy such an activity— and the affirming feeling of being conquered, deriving pleasure from being a thing that is desired.  

Such weakness, on my part. Such base, vulgar curiosity. I’m not proud of it, but I am a man and I do have a pulse, and he was so willing— bewildered at his own bravery and determination. Depravity, perversion of affection, his molten desire to lie down for the master, the father. I felt all of it acutely. 

He pulled down the covers and lay his coltish long legs on either side of me. I indulged him. I said remorseless, incestuous things. When he began to gasp and whimper I did not slow my hand or stop crooning to him. 

20. Lowercase gods

June 2023

On Sunday morning I stepped into the sunken living room on the east wing of the first floor to find Carlo awake and ignoring homework in favor of scrolling his phone. He had the TV on, annoying to me at this early hour. Mounted over my stone fireplace, it was an ugly black eye as useless as a taxidermized deer head. At least he had the decency to have it on mute. I noticed he seemed to like the company of the TV more than he used to, even if he wasn’t watching it. Something he picked up with Max.

Vote yes on three! a political ad urged us, a proposal that would effectively render out-of-state pet trading illegal in Maryland.

“Are you voting?” I asked from several feet behind the couch. 

Reluctantly, he lifted his eyes from his phone to the TV screen. “I guess I have to,” he muttered, seeming a little offended I’d draw his attention to an ad like that. “To cancel out yours.”

A barbed annoyance pricked the back of my neck. I thought of leaving it alone and going for another cup of coffee, but I found myself asking. “Hold on. What makes you think I’d vote against it?”

Carlo let his head fall back over the edge of the sofa. His dark curls, finding their usual relationship to gravity reversed, loosened towards the floor. He looked at me upside-down. “Uh, I don’t know. Maybe because you bought and kept me for almost nine years as a pet?”

I resisted the urge to touch his petulant little throat while he was like that, so vulnerably bared, collar bones like the poles of a teepee. I’d rest my hand on it, not squeezing, just enough to feel the mechanics of his trachea under my palm, such delicate, vital machinery.

“I took advantage of the current laws and regulations,” I said—measured and nodding. “Personal advantage. Sure. That doesn’t mean I’d vote to keep the status quo. This would be a good bottleneck on the trade. Like a fire, it only needs to be slowly deprived of oxygen. Why do you take me for such a Philistine? After all these years, have I not persuaded you otherwise?”

He blinked at me upside down like some weird Cheshire cat, his mouth opening to speak and then closing instead.

“I can tell you have something to say.”

“If… I was still your pet. Would you vote against it then?

“If I still had a personal stake in maintaining the status quo…” I mused, watching the talking heads on the TV mime mutely from teleprompters. “Maryland’s a blue state. It will go in favor of this legislation sooner or later. But they’ll put a grandfather clause in for existing pets, believe you me. No one’s giving up their already ill-begotten favorite pets, especially not in Baltimore.”

“I didn’t ask what you think will happen,” Carlo challenged me. Blood must have been pooling behind his eyes because he flipped over, put his chin on the spine of my couch like a raccoon peering over a fence. “I wanted to know what you’d do.”

“I think past actions speak louder than irrelevant hypotheticals.”

“…Like you giving me my papers?”

I tilted my head briefly. Precisely.

He stared at me for a moment, his eyes chalkboard blank, and then he rolled them, a sneer tugging at the corner of his mouth. “God. How do you do that?”

“What, angel.” I said flatly.

“That. You just sold me on 'actions speak louder than words', when your actions were to buy a pet and have a pet for a decade and then sell that pet the minute it became an inconvenience to you. And you flipped it right around and made me feel bad for what should’ve been a really logical assumption.”

“It wasn’t my intention to muddle you. It was only to ask you what you meant by your comment.”

“You’re good at that,” he said darkly. He hesitated on something, I could tell by the way his tongue was on the back of his front teeth and he glanced to a sunbeam on the rug at my feet. “Do you know what defamiliarization is?” he asked. 

“Not in any particular sense.”

“In literary theory,” he said, tucking his hands under his chin on the ridge of the couch, his hair still mussed from hanging upside down. “It’s when something ordinary and commonly understood is written about in a unique way. It’s a…” he searched for his next words. “…an alien perspective in the writing that reframes a concept you take for granted. It jars you. Makes you question something you never would’ve questioned before. Everyone always uses Tolstoy as an example. But you do that when you talk. Well, when you talk to me at least.”

“Is defamiliarization also a theme in psychology?” I asked.

“I mean… psychology informs the literary meaning of it.”

My earlier annoyance with his incorrect assumption of me had faded. I had realized while he was speaking I’d gotten exactly what I’d asked for in him, the sort of company I’d cultivated by letting him have his head, and later letting him free of me. I didn’t want to chastise him now and discourage the behavior I liked to see. For all the capitulation he has shown me, I can give him mine as well from time to time.

“I don’t mean to twist words, Carlo. Or to give you uneven footing. Defamiliarize you. I strive for us to understand one another.”

He turned the corner of his mouth again, this time in a half-apologetic downward smile of acceptance. “It’s just something I thought of just now. It’s dumb.”

“It’s not,” I said, approaching him and enjoying the way he lifted his eyes to me without doubt or fear. I sifted my hand into his hair and squeezed measuredly so his chin lifted off his knuckles, neck arching gently back.

“Your perceptions are your own, Carlo. None of my tiresome prescriptivism can undermine that.”

“Do you really think the law will go through?”

From his tone, I didn’t know if his curiosity was a general one or if this still felt particularly personal to him. I don’t see how it couldn’t. 

“The trade has gotten too much attention lately to stay unchanged. It will head one way or the other in the next five years,” I predicted. “But I’ve been wrong about too many things at this point in my life to be confident which.” He did a strange thing then. He twisted in my loose grip to kiss my wrist. His eyes closed with what could almost be mistaken for reverence, and then opened to look at me, as slowly as music boxes begin their notes. 

Next

[aspiring-sea-hag]

“And once you truly understand that she really does love you, you’ll see all the ways she’s expressed that love over the years.”

continuation from the reblog I did a couple of posts ago, I wanted to share all the little acts of love that Ægir showed to me before I finally comprehended that she did, in fact, love and care about me.

I have struggled with feeling like I belong for as long as I can remember, but I always remember my parents taking me to San Diego on vacation, and how I’d run through the hot sand to get to the water because there, I always felt like I belonged.

Whenever I went beachcombing as a kid (and still to this day) I always find one or two of my favorite type of shell, even if it’s super rare in the area.

Sometimes I like to pick up hermit crabs and hold them in my hand (not out of the water ofc) and they always come out of their shells right away.

I saw a spotted eagle ray on my first ever Ocean dive right after I got certified. Rolling into that water felt like a warm hug.

I go through air incredibly slow. My buddies joke that I must have superpowers kind of slow.

Octopuses have taken my hand when I’ve offered it to them, on a couple occasions.

I don’t notice it myself, but my buddies have also told me that I am a surprisingly comfortable drift diver.

The final realization hit me when I was picking up tiny plastic bits on my local beach (at the time) several months ago. There was so much; there was more plastic than I’d ever seen on a beach. I felt overwhelmed and enraged. I broke down in tears at the waters edge because I felt like I wasn’t enough. Even though the tide was going out, a big wave came up, enough to wrap around my body (I was kneeling) and cool me down. I had the sense that Ægir wanted to make sure I knew something. Put in simpler terms, that something was “When you do everything you can, that will always be enough. That will always be seen. I see you, and I love you so, so much.”

I can’t help but wonder if she tried to guide that trash to that particular beach so that I could collect it.

I share all these little blessings because I want to highlight how common they are, and how mundane they can seem at first. It’s hard to see them as blessings sometimes, but I truly feel that they are little acts of love. So if you’re reading this, remember that you are loved, you are seen, and you matter.

[chieffestivalearthquake]

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[fishyfishyfishtimes]

I Wonder what you think of people fishing (in general). I personally would love to learn how to fish and learn how to catch specific fish with bait and even mount some cool catches, but sometimes, I ask myself if this aligns with my moral standings. I’m personally pescatarian and love eating fish, but can’t help feel sorry for them while eating them.

I also know that fishing does help with regulating/population-control of specific fish. 🧐

Anyways, I’d love to know how you feel about eating fish and fishing fish whilst also loving fish and appreciating fish. 🐟

(I’ve used the word fish multiple times haha, fish fish fish fish 🐠)

I get what you mean! It's a whole moral conundrum and a half, I'll say.. ^^' I used to enjoy fishing myself, my family and I would go to the local pond and do catch and release fishing; I liked it because it was the only time I could properly see and handle fish, as otherwise they were out of sight under the water. Some years back though, I became very conflicted about fishing just for enjoyment due to the inevitable stress it causes the fish to be pulled out of the water by their mouth and roughly handled on land. Sometimes fish don't recover from the shock and end up dying anyway. I felt awful thinking back on all the fish that must've suffered at my own hands. The last time I went fishing was probably about three years back, I haven't fished since. Although I haven't 100% decided that I'm never in my life fishing again, it's probably safe to assume I won't be fishing for a long, long while... @~@

That's how I feel about myself fishing, but when it comes to others fishing, I really don't mind. Everyone can decide for themselves what they wish to do, and where their stance on fishing lies. Even if I don't like eating most fish, it is a fact that fish can be more sustainable than other animal meat and eating local native fishes is a very good alternative to just buying from the store! Much like you said, fishing can be used to control populations of fish, like invasive species (lionfish come to mind immediately), which is also very good! Fishing is also just a fun hobby to have and brings a lot of enjoyment to many people, haha.

Much like commercial fishing, leisure fishing can have bad impact on fish and fish populations, but it doesn't have to be that way! One can take measures to fish in a way that doesn't harm the overall population and causes the fishes minimal stress, take for example my good friend! She has kept fish as pets and loves them much like I do, but she still fishes. She sands down the barbs on her hooks, and when she fishes with the intent of eating, she quickly puts the fish down. She holds the belief that if you're planning on having meat in your diet, you have to get comfortable with the idea that animals have to die for that diet, and also be sure that the animals didn't have to die in a more painful and stressful way than what was necessary. I pretty much agree with her.

So yeah! To make a long, rambly story short, I don't want to fish myself but I'm otherwise pretty neutral on the topic. Other people can go fish as much as they want to, but I only wish that people would make it easier on the fishes themselves! Their lives are valuable too and I think it is a fisher's responsibility to make sure they are treated with dignity and mercy.

Man, I ended up writing fish and fishing and fishes so many times myself, they don't even look like real words anymore! Fishfishfishfishfishfishfishfishfishfishfishfish!

[sunshinesavvage]

If I Had Three Lives

By Sarah Russell

If I had three lives, I’d marry you in two. The other? Perhaps that life over there at Starbucks, sitting alone, writing — a memoir, maybe a novel or this poem. No kids, probably, a small apartment with a view of the river, and books — lots of books, and time to read. Friends to laugh with, and a man sometimes, for a weekend, to remember what skin feels like when it’s alive. I’d be thinner in that life, vegan, practice yoga. I’d go to art films, farmers markets, drink martinis in swingy skirts and big jewelry. I’d vacation on the Maine coast and wear a flannel shirt weekend guy left behind, loving the smell of sweat and aftershave more than I did him. I’d walk the beach at sunrise, find perfect shell spirals and study pockmarks water makes in sand. And I’d wonder sometimes if I’d ever find you.

[neopuff]

ALWAYS ON MY MIND

chapter nine: a load off my mind ships: sasha/milla characters: milla, sasha, ford, oleander word count: 5867 ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53435410/chapters/137330296

[chap 1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8]

-

Whispering Rock was a very interesting place.

The valley was certainly remote - Sasha hadn’t expected to drive through the woods for almost two hours - but he couldn’t deny that it looked lovely. Oleander had done a great job, though he probably wouldn’t say as much to the man. He’d been getting enough praise for the camp already.

Sasha and Milla decided to arrive at the camp three days early in the hopes to familiarize themselves with the area and get used to the great outdoors. It’d been a long time since either of them roughed it, so to speak, and they needed to portray a good example for the children.

She was already there when Sasha arrived - her signature car sitting in the parking lot in all its shiny, red glory. His car was boxy and green and felt very quiet next to hers. He wondered if it would’ve made more sense for them to carpool. Perhaps he would suggest it if they decided to come back.

But before any of that, he needed to find her. Sasha reached out to her mentally and she sent back a relaxed aura and images of water. It wasn’t hard to figure out that she was by the lake. He grabbed the crudely-drawn map that Oleander provided them and started making his way towards Lake Oblongata. The path wasn’t too difficult to follow, which boded well for the campers.

A large building caught his eye as he made his way towards the water, and a quick look at the map told Sasha it was the main lodge. Agent Cruller apparently spent a decent amount of time there, and it would be where they ate all of their meals. It looked well-constructed, at least.

As the lake finally came into view, Sasha spotted his partner sitting along the edge of the beach - boots on the ground next to her so she could dip her feet in the water. He couldn’t say he was surprised by that.

Sasha levitated over and stood just a few feet behind her. “Having fun?”

Milla leaned her head back so she was staring at him upside-down. “The water’s very nice. Maybe we can go swimming before the kids get here!”

He smirked at that, then stared out at the water. It was quite nice. Oleander had really outdone himself. “I didn’t bring a swimsuit.”

She gasped dramatically. “You didn’t plan to swim at all?”

“Not particularly.” Sasha took a few steps forward, but not close enough for the water to touch his shoes. “I’m not much of a swimmer. But I’d be happy to sit here and watch while you enjoy.”

Milla chuckled and Sasha’s face immediately burned at the realization of what he’d said. He didn’t even bother correcting himself, simply sent a mental wave of you-know-what-I-meant towards her.

“I haven’t seen Agent Cruller yet,” Milla said, changing the subject. “Aaronson said that he’s even stranger here than back at the Motherlobe.”

“Is that so?” Sasha pulled out a cigarette, deciding he was getting a little too much fresh air. “It’s hard to believe Agent Mentallis’ theory was wrong.”

She shrugged and levitated into the air, shaking the sand and water off her feet before putting her boots back on.

“Did you look at anything else or just come straight to the lake?” Sasha asked, trying not to watch her every movement. She was hypnotizing to him sometimes, he couldn’t help it.

“Nope!” Milla smiled and plopped her feet back onto the ground. “I know there’s a fire pit on the other side of the lodge and the cabins are off in that direction,” she said, pointing to the north, “and I believe Morceau said there’s an off-limits area over that way.”

Sasha tilted his head. “Off-limits? For what purpose?”

“I’m not sure.” She started to walk back towards the main lodge and Sasha followed her. “He probably just meant it’s off-limits for the campers. Maybe something they haven’t finished building yet?”

“Hmm. I think we should check that out, then.”

A few minutes later and they found themselves staring at a very unexpected structure deep in the woods of Whispering Rock. Neither knew quite what to say about it, except that they never could’ve anticipated seeing something of that nature in a camp made for children.

Milla frowned, staring from the entrance. “These are psychoisolation chambers, aren’t they?”

“Looks like it.” Sasha levitated above the structure to get a better look. “I’m sure Morceau isn’t planning on throwing the children in here. That’d be…” He paused, then floated down on top of the highest part of the chambers. “Immoral. Probably.”

“Probably,” Milla repeated, doing nothing to hide her annoyance. “We’ll have to ask him about this when he gets here, won’t we?”

Sasha came back down and they made their way around the rest of the camp. Oleander had a large treehouse office that was, thankfully, very well-constructed, and also very close to the camper’s cabins. There were just three cabins - one for girls, one for boys, and one for the counselors.

“Ah.” Sasha stared at the counselor cabin, realizing something he should’ve realized earlier. “So. It’ll be you and me and…Morry. In this little space. Every night?”

Milla laughed and elbowed him in the arm. “You seem surprised, Sasha! What did you expect? Private rooms?” She floated inside and moved to the bed furthest in the back, wiping off the blanket. “I think I’ll take this one.”

Sasha followed her inside. He hadn’t thought about sleeping arrangements at all. He and Milla had shared hotel rooms in the past, but they usually had more space between them. He found himself both relieved and annoyed that Oleander would be in the room, too. And what about Agent Cruller? It didn’t look like Cruller had been staying there. Perhaps he had his own cabin somewhere else on the campgrounds. Or maybe a tent.

“Darling, you should take the bed across from mine!” Milla said, floating over to that bed and sitting on it. “I’m sure Morceau will want to be closest to the door, anyway.”

“Of course.” Sasha shrugged. He didn’t imagine he’d be sleeping much in such an uncomfortable space. But he needed to prove to Oleander that he was capable of doing this, and he wanted to support Milla by sticking around. There was no room for complaining about little things like sleeping arrangements. “Whichever you think is best.”

After that, they headed to the parking lot to grab their suitcases and bring them back to the cabins. If not for telekinesis, Sasha would’ve been annoyed that they were on complete opposite ends of the camp. He couldn’t imagine being forced to actually carry his luggage the entire way across.

Along the journey back to the cabins, they finally spotted Agent Cruller.

He was using a broom to sweep grass and dirt not far from the main lodge, mumbling under his breath. Sasha and Milla looked at each other, and psychically decided to wait until they were unpacked before they talked to him. They both had a feeling that he’d want to chat for a long time, as older people tended to do.

Agent Cruller was gone by the time they made their way back.

“Maybe he’s in the lodge,” Milla suggested, pointing towards it. “Morceau said he cooks all the camp meals, and it’s almost dinnertime.”

Sasha nodded and they made their way inside, unsurprised to find Agent Cruller standing there behind the counter. He was mumbling about burgers and fries and had on a chef’s hat and apron, which weren’t present when they saw him earlier.

“Agent Cruller,” Sasha said, walking towards him. “It’s good to see you.”

The older man tilted his head at the two of them. “Huh…you look different than before! What’s with the green? Huh?”

Sasha frowned and glanced at Milla, who simply smiled and came closer. “Hello! Do you remember me, Agent Cruller? My name is Milla. Milla Vodello!”

Cruller stared at her, his eyes slowly squinting until there was no way he could see anything at all. He then opened his eyes wide, made a noise of surprise, then looked over at Sasha, and then back to Milla again. “I know you two! You’re psychics! Hungry psychics, I’ll bet! You want some burgers?”

Milla’s smile softened and she tugged some hair behind her ears. “Um, yes, sure! That sounds lovely. Thank you, Agent Cruller.”

“Call me Ford, why don’t you?” the older man said loudly. “You two are much too tall to be talking to me like that!”

Sasha ran a hand through his hair, feeling a frustrated knot forming in his shoulder. That always happened when he talked to Agent Cruller for too long - the man’s mental state reminded him too much of exactly the type of damage a Psychonaut was constantly in danger of. “Of course, Ford. Whatever you’d like.”

Cruller gave them a toothy smile and disappeared to make the food.

“I, um. I don’t think Agent Mentallis had the right idea about the psitanium,” Milla said, clasping her hands in front of her. “But maybe the fresh air is good for him, at least?”

“Hopefully,” Sasha answered.

X

Milla woke the next morning feeling oddly achy. Her head hurt - not in a way she was used to. It was like a specific part of her brain was irritated. Almost like she’d spent all night listening to loud music, but somehow…different. It was difficult to explain.

When Sasha came out of their shared bathroom and expressed a similar type of headache, she knew she wasn’t crazy, at least.

“I just assumed it’s because I’ve been cooped up indoors for so long,” Sasha joked, though he also meant it genuinely. “But a headache after less than a day outdoors did seem a bit fast.”

She got up and rushed to the bathroom, desperately needing to brush her teeth and do something about her hair. Sometimes Milla remembered the first time she and Sasha shared a bedroom - she’d been so nervous about how she looked that she’d made sure to wake up before him so she could beautify herself. It took barely two days of that before she gave up and let him see her ridiculous bedhead. He never commented either way. “Could it be the psitanium?”

There was a pause before she heard Sasha’s muffled response from the other side of the bathroom door. “That seems likely. I've certainly not been around this much psitanium before.”

Milla stared at her reflection in the mirror, happy she didn't look as bad as her head felt. “Me neither,” she added before starting to brush her teeth.

She could hear Sasha moving around in the other room and reached out with her mind - somehow they’d gotten to the point where even thirty seconds of not knowing what was going on in his head made her curious. If they were in a different kind of relationship, they’d probably be described as clingy or codependent. But as Psychonaut partners, it was totally normal and fine.

“Maybe we can ask Agent Cruller about it,” Sasha said. Then, after a moment, he corrected himself. “Er, Ford. We can ask Ford.”

Milla smiled. He was never very good at being casual, especially not with senior Psychonauts. She sent him a mental agreement, then quickly finished getting ready and dressed and headed out the door. “Ready to go?”

Sasha nodded at her and telekinetically opened the cabin door, allowing her to leave first. Such a gentleman.

They wandered around for a bit, wondering if they’d find Ford outside somewhere. His persona in the main lodge - the one wearing the chef hat - wasn’t the most helpful. There was always a possibility that one of his other personas around the campgrounds would have better information. But they didn’t see the sweeping persona on their walk towards the lodge, so they decided it was time for breakfast.

“Good morning!” Ford shouted as they entered the lodge. He had a bright smile on his face and was chewing on a large piece of bacon. “We got the good stuff today!”

Milla and Sasha glanced at one another before walking closer to him. She smiled gently. “Good morning, Ford! How are you today?”

“Great!” He pulled the bacon out of his mouth and took a big whiff of it, then took another big bite. “I love this bacon! It’s delicious!”

Sasha sighed and stepped forward, much more impatient than Milla. “You’ve been here for a few weeks now, Agent-er, Ford. Did the psitanium have an adverse effect on you when you first arrived? Headaches? Anything like that?”

Ford stared at Sasha and blinked slowly. Once. Twice. Three times. Then he shook his head. “I’ve got no clue what you’re talking about. But I’ve got some fine egg ‘n bacon sandwiches for the two of you when you want ‘em!”

Sasha sighed again, and barely reacted as Milla put a hand on his arm. “That sounds great, Ford, thank you.”

The older man disappeared for a few seconds, then reappeared with the sandwiches. “All wrapped up, just like a fancy restaurant!”

Milla took them and gave one to Sasha, who seemed generally uninterested in the food. He was clearly disappointed in Agent Cruller’s response, but Milla figured it was what they were going to get. Cruller was…exactly who he was. There was no changing that. “Thank you,” she said quietly, smiling at Ford again.

He stood there silently for a few moments, then slammed his hands on the counter and stared at the two of them, completely bug-eyed. “Y’know where all the psitanium is? It’s underground!” Ford said, tilting his head too far to the side to keep his balance for much longer. “You’d be surprised what’s underground in a place like this!”

The two younger Psychonauts glanced at each other again, then gave a polite goodbye to Agent Cruller before taking their leave. It was a unique reaction from him, especially considering the lack of appropriate response they usually got. It seemed that he at least understood their question, though it was hard to say whether or not his answer held any useful information. Were they the ramblings of a madman? Or was he offering them some semblance of insight from the small parts of his brain that were still functioning?

“Underground, huh?” Milla muttered, finishing up her sandwich. It was very good. Seemed like the campers would be eating just fine during their week of training.

“I suppose it’ll be worth it to keep an eye out.” Sasha only ate half of his and folded the wrapper around the rest. “Maybe there’s some sort of…cave by the water.”

She smiled and grabbed his wrapped sandwich half, unwrapping it and shoving it towards him. He never ate enough, in her opinion. She’d swear that if she didn’t remind him to eat, he could go well over a day without anything but coffee and cigarettes. That wouldn’t happen while they were alone together, that was for sure. “Maybe! You should finish this, darling. In case we find a secret underground psitanium cave and need our strength to get out.”

Sasha exhaled through his nose, but relented and continued eating. “So we’re exploring again today?” he mumbled between bites.

“That’s what I’d like to do, at least. I mean…I’ve got all my lessons planned,” she answered happily. It was always nice when he listened to her in regards to his health. Now if only she could get him to stop smoking! “Reorganized my mind so the kids can practice levitation safely. So there’s nothing else to prepare.”

“Ah.” 

He nodded and then pouted, an expression that Milla didn’t expect to see. “What’s wrong?”

“I may need to take some time and…move some things around.” He took the last bite of his sandwich and crumpled up the wrapper in his gloved hands. “Maybe we’ll head back to the cabins early.” He paused, then corrected himself. “Er, I’ll head back early. You don’t have to. Also. You can do what you want, of course.”

She smiled brightly at him. He was so cute when he stumbled over his words. “Maybe I’ll go swimming, then.”

Sasha returned her smile with a small one of his own and they got up from the picnic table outside the lodge. It was a beautiful day out and there was plenty of campground for them to check out before he needed to start on his lesson plan.

X

Their third day on the campgrounds, aka the last day before the campers arrived and the actual camp started, did not get off on the right foot.

Milla and Sasha were loudly woken up by a loud - loud, loud, loud - trumpet playing a slightly off-tune Reveille. It didn’t take a genius to know what that meant: Oleander had arrived.

Of course, he chose to arrive at six-thirty in the morning. And he had to announce his presence as loudly as possible.

Sasha wasn’t ashamed to admit that he didn’t like Morceau. He didn’t get along with the argumentative man, who was always trying to pick a fight with him over everything. He made inappropriate jokes and comments, gave him insulting nicknames for absolutely no reason, and felt the need to heckle Sasha about his personal life and personality on a regular basis. He was genuinely surprised that anyone got along with the short man, though he supposed Milla got along with everyone.

The two of them got up and took turns getting ready for the day, despite Oleander’s attempts to get them up faster. Sasha just knew that the day was not going to improve with such a loud, little man having access to the camp speaker system.

On the plus side, he didn’t have a headache anymore and his lesson plan for the campers was all ready. It also seemed that Milla didn’t have a headache anymore either, since she hadn’t mentioned it.

While eating breakfast with Milla and Morry, it hit Sasha that he was already really missing the alone time with her. Sure, it wasn’t the romantic nonsense that Morceau had joked about, but it was still very nice. He really enjoyed spending time with her where they didn’t have to worry about danger potentially lurking around every corner.

“Did you get a headache on your first night here?” Milla asked Morceau over their egg sandwiches.

“Huh?” Oleander tilted his head. “Aaronson and Whittaker complained about that, too. The four of you just need to get used to the outdoors, is all!”

Sasha disassociated while Morceau continued to talk about how much stronger and more outdoorsy he was than everyone else, and stared down at his egg sandwich. Though Ford’s cooking wasn’t bad, he was beginning to realize that the food options were quite limited. He wasn’t a man who needed a lot of variety in his life, but he couldn’t imagine eating it over and over again for an entire week. Maybe he’d have to grab some fruit before the campers arrived the next day.

“What do you think, Nein?”

Sasha was pulled back into the conversation to find both of them staring at him. He had no idea what they were just talking about and shook his head. “I didn’t catch the question.”

Oleander rolled his eyes. “See what I mean? If any of this week’s kids give us a bad review, I’m blaming it all on you!” he said, pointing a finger in Sasha’s face. “If you’re gonna screw anything up, just try to keep it small, alright?”

“...alright,” Sasha responded, standing up. He wasn’t interested in listening to insults any longer, so he decided it was a good time to look around the camp. By himself. “I’m going for a walk.”

Milla gave him an apologetic smile, almost like she somehow knew he was leaving because he didn’t want to spend too much time with Morceau. She’d heard him complain about the man enough times to come to that conclusion. “Catch up with you later?”

“Of course.” Sasha nodded at her and levitated away, decidedly towards the geodesic psychoisolation chambers in the woods. He’d meant to ask Morry about them, but didn’t have the patience for it. Maybe Milla would remember.

As he came to the structure, he noticed a strange-looking squirrel out of the corner of his eye. Sasha turned to look directly at it, but the squirrel immediately ran off - though, notably, it fell into a large tree stump. After a moment the squirrel climbed back out, looking slightly worse for wear, then it ran off in another direction.

Bored and curious, Sasha walked closer to the tree stump. He’d noticed a few of them around the camp, though they didn’t really catch his attention considering they were in the middle of the woods. When he looked inside the stump, however, it was clear that it wasn’t a normal stump. It was hollow and the hole inside was very deep. One could even say that it led to something…underground.

Sasha raised a single eyebrow at his discovery. He looked up - turned left, then right, then looked back down into the hole. It was certainly big enough for him to fit into. Though now he was wishing he’d used clairvoyance on that squirrel before it got away.

With a shrug, he decided it was worth a shot to look, so Sasha levitated himself down into the stump to see what was inside.

He didn’t expect to land on an awkwardly small rail car. Even more than that, he didn’t expect it to talk to him.

"Welcome to the Whispering Rocket Underground Rapid Transit System. Would you like to go back to your private sanctuary now, Agent Cruller? Or...somewhere else?"

Sasha stared at the device in front of his face. What the hell was he looking at, exactly? Whose voice was that? And…it specifically mentioned Agent Cruller. Did that mean this was something Ford had managed to put together in the short time he’d been living at the camp? It looked like an entire underground tunnel system.

Unsure of what else to say, Sasha cleared his throat. “Uh…to the sanctuary. Please.”

“Yes, noble Psychomaster.”

He glared, unhappy with that nickname, and held the car tight as he was suddenly pulled in a random direction. The rail car seemed to be functioning well, though Sasha was understandably nervous about the construction quality. Did Agent Cruller build this secretly or did Oleander know about it? He had so many questions.

Questions that would be followed up by even more questions, Sasha realized as the car came to a stop. He levitated out through another hollowed-out tree stump and found himself in some sort of underground laboratory - or, sanctuary, he supposed, was the word the rail car had used. The space was still very clearly under construction, but there were floating screens all around, several comfortable-looking chairs, and a pile full of psychic devices that Sasha recognized from Agent Mentallis’ lab.

It was a strange sight to behold.

“...Agent Cruller?” Sasha said, unsure of what was going on.

No one responded. He supposed it was silly to think Ford would just be waiting around when he saw him in the main lodge less than an hour earlier. The man was probably working around the campgrounds somewhere, or maybe he was-

“Sasha!”

He turned around to find Ford Cruller floating up from somewhere below, a large piece of scrap metal in his hands. “Ford. What’s going on?”

“I didn’t expect you down here so soon,” the older man answered, plopping down on the same platform as Sasha. “You get into a fight with Oleander?”

Sasha pouted slightly. “Not a fight. Just annoyed with him.” He paused for a moment, then shook his head. “Wait, no, where are we? Why are you wearing your Psychonauts uniform? Are you-?”

“Oop! I’ll be right back!” Ford interrupted, then quickly dove into the tree stump that Sasha had come out of earlier.

“I…what?” Sasha felt positively bewildered. He needed to find Milla and bring her there immediately, maybe she’d be able to shed some light on the situation. Or at the very least, offer a comforting presence while they absorbed the insanity together. He reached out to her mentally to let her know that he wanted to speak to her alone, then jumped back into the tree stump from earlier. Somehow, the rail car was still there, despite the fact that Ford seemingly exited the same way. Sasha was very, very confused.

X

It didn’t take much effort to get Morry to walk away from her. Milla let him know that she had some womanly things to take care of, and he immediately bounced away without a single question. He was truly a man’s man, she supposed.

She was very curious about whatever Sasha had found. Milla could feel that he was surprised and confused by something and she hoped it was something exciting, because the past hour of talking to Morceau about his Basic Braining mental boot camp was exhausting. She could not have been less interested in the militarized jungle gym he’d set up for the kids inside his head. It was…certainly different from what she’d planned.

She agreed to meet Sasha near the woods where they’d found the psychoisolation chambers - which she’d almost forgotten to ask Morceau about, but thankfully she had the answer. Agent Mentallis had suggested them as a fun exercise for the kids, then after they were already built, Second Head Forsythe and Grand Head Zanotto rejected the idea completely. But they were already built, and no one wanted to see all that money wasted, so Agent Mentallis promised to come and relocate the chambers whenever he had enough time and found a good space to put them back near the Motherlobe.

It wasn’t a great solution, but the campers would probably be too terrified of the chambers to mess around. Milla knew she could scare them off if she told them exactly what they were used for, but she wouldn’t do that. She never wanted to scare children.

Sasha was waiting for her near the entrance, standing next to one of the large tree stumps she’d noticed around the campgrounds.

“Morry didn’t follow you, did he?”

Milla gave him an incredulous stare. “Of course not, darling. Why would he? Did you find something bad?”

“Not bad, just…secretive. I think.” Sasha tugged at the turtleneck of his sweater. “Follow me,” he said, and then levitated down into the stump.

She leaned over to see that Sasha had completely disappeared into the darkness. That was unexpected. “Um…Sasha?”

“It’s safe,” his voice spoke, echoing slightly. “Just come down.”

Well. She trusted Sasha more than anyone, so there was no reason not to do what he said. Milla floated down slowly and after a few seconds she felt herself land in Sasha’s arms. Another unexpected development. She looked around and saw that he was sitting in a small rail car and they were in a little tunnel.

“What is this?”

Sasha grunted as he tried to adjust the way she was seated - moving her legs around to make sure they weren’t sticking out too far, if she had to guess. “Sorry, just. Give me a second.”

She could’ve helped him, but it was kind of fun to just let him move her around. It wasn’t often that Sasha initiated physical contact with her, after all.

He seemed satisfied with her positioning - she was sitting on his lap and her legs were crossed over one another, laying on top of his left leg. Her shoulder was resting against his chest and she had her hands poised politely in her lap. Sasha glanced at her, a nervous blush on his cheeks, then reached out one hand towards her hair.

After a moment of hesitation, he pulled his hand back. “You, um. You should pull your hair in front of you. Just in case.”

Milla was entertained enough by the situation to do what he said without question.

Once that was done, Sasha cleared his throat and tapped the little screen in front of them. “To the sanctuary, please.”

“Yes, noble Psychomaster.”

Not expecting such a sultry voice - or any voice at all, really - Milla let out a nervous laugh. “Darling, what in the world is going on? Where are we?”

“You’ll see in a few moments,” he said quietly, and then the rail car started to move.

Instinctively, Milla pulled her knees up towards her chest and tucked herself into the tightest ball she could. The car moved faster than she expected and she wasn’t exactly seated very securely. Thankfully, Sasha caught the hint and wrapped one hand around her legs and the other around her back, keeping hold of her.

It was very nice. She’d have to thank whoever built the tunnel system for that little moment she got to have with her partner.

Less than a minute later and it stopped. Sasha didn’t wait even a second before wrapping his hands underneath her and levitating them both out of there. They exited through a similar hollow tree stump, but found themselves in a very high-tech-looking lab. It looked almost nicer than some of the things they had at the Motherlobe.

She levitated out of Sasha’s arms and floated over to the middle of the room. “I have never been more confused.”

“There you are! And good, you brought Agent Vodello.”

The two of them turned to find Ford Cruller walking towards them from a platform on the opposite side of the room. He looked more sober and focused than either had ever seen from him before, and his presence asked just as many questions as it answered.

“Ford…” Milla said gently, floating towards him. “What’s going on?”

“My question exactly,” Sasha added.

The older man shook his head. “Sorry for rushing out on you earlier, Sasha, but I could hear Oleander thinking about getting his hands on a boat, so I felt that inescapable urge to get out there and help him. You understand, I’m sure.”

Milla stared at the man, unblinking. She did not understand at all. “You remember our names?”

“I do,” he answered, taking a deep breath. “Just down here. Surrounded by all this psitanium…it’s enough psychic energy to keep my mind together. For now, at least.”

“I thought this much psitanium exposure was dangerous for psychics.” Sasha walked along the platform, coming to a stop next to Ford. “We’ve seen that in the past, at least.”

“Yes, of course, I remember the whole situation with that Rehm fellow a few years ago,” Cruller responded absentmindedly. “But he was an untrained psychic mind, someone who didn’t even know he was psychic until he was exposed. My mind is…well, it’s not what it used to be. But it’s used to psitanium and it’s used to psychic enhancements.”

Milla wasn’t surprised to hear Lucius’ name brought up - Whispering Rock was, after all, very close to the place where he’d first been exposed to the psitanium that made him lose his mind. His accidental discovery was helpful when Oleander was looking for the right place to build the camp. “But above ground you’re still…not quite yourself.”

“That’s true. I…can’t leave this sanctuary.” Ford sighed and sat in one of the chairs. “My every free moment has been spent working on this underground chamber, trying to make it liveable and giving myself access to all the classified information I can get my hands on.”

Milla noticed Sasha staring at a pile of gadgets sitting across the way. Those probably belonged to Agent Mentallis - she wondered if Ford had stolen them, or somehow convinced his old friend to give them to him.

“This is great news, Agent Cruller,” Sasha said. “Why haven’t you told anyone yet?”

“Hmmmm,” Ford hummed, closing his eyes and leaning his head back. “To be honest…I don’t think most of them will believe me. I’m just happy you two do!”

“It’s hard not to believe when you’re so much more, um…” Milla started.

“...coherent. Than usual,” Sasha added, finishing her sentence.

“Ha! That’s true.” Agent Cruller stood up and stretched, cracking his back loudly. “Oleander doesn’t know about this, alright? And I don’t want him to. He can’t keep a secret worth his life.” He scratched the top of his head. “I don’t know if the psitanium will keep me sane forever, but…so long as it does, would you two help me out with some projects?”

Milla and Sasha glanced at one another, not even needing telepathy to understand that the answer was of course.

“Excellent,” Ford responded, despite the fact that they hadn’t actually answered out loud. “And since you asked, Sasha - we’re just due north of the main lodge. Directly underneath.”

Sasha hadn’t asked anything like that, which made Milla wonder if Agent Cruller was able to read their minds so effortlessly while in his sanctuary that he didn’t even realize the telepathy was happening. It was a strange concept, though she’d certainly had moments where she couldn’t tell if Sasha was talking to her or thinking at her.

“I know you two have a lot to do, getting ready for the campers to arrive tomorrow,” Ford continued, “but I’d appreciate it if you could visit me down here sometime soon. I have some important things I’d like to discuss.”

“Of course, sir,” Sasha answered.

Milla wondered if he felt as intimidated by Ford’s commanding presence as she did. It was so strange to be talking to the Ford Cruller of legend rather than the Ford Cruller they’d gotten to know in the Motherlobe. All the stories they’d been told about him suddenly made sense, just from such a brief interaction.

“Is there anything we can do for you now?” Milla asked.

Ford shook his head. “No, I…oh. I need to go.” He suddenly rushed towards the hollow tree stump and jumped in, leaving the two active Psychonauts alone.

Milla frowned. “Maybe Morceau needed help with that boat again.”

“Perhaps,” Sasha answered, but he was already back to staring at the pile of gadgets in the corner. “These are definitely from Agent Mentallis’ lab. He was complaining to me about missing equipment just last week.”

“Ah. Well…too bad we can’t tell him where it is.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “This is a strange situation, right? This isn’t something you’ve experienced before?”

“Not at all.” Sasha stood up straight and walked closer to her. “I think I can say with absolute certainty that this is not something any Psychonaut has dealt with before.”

Milla nodded her head and took a deep breath, wondering if the extra psitanium exposure would have an immediate effect or if they’d have to wait longer to feel a difference. She felt a little lighter, maybe a bit stronger, but she also wasn’t sure if she was just imagining it. “Agent Mentallis would probably be very happy to know he was right.”

Sasha sighed and stuck his hands into his pockets. “Yes, yes he would.”

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

tuesday again 4/11/2023

more concise than usual. don't get used to it.

listening

the trombone is an underutilized instrument in indie rock. this is a delightful music video, the vocals bother me a lot less now that i know they're deliberately going for a robotic effect.

if you liked the Killing Eve soundtrack (largely brought to you by Unloved and Junoire), that sort of very smooth lightly psych-rock flavored thinking woman's music to smoke clove cigarettes to while slouching around used bookstores, you may like this song! reading this back it sounds kind of snotty but sometimes you need a french woman main character song to make doing errands feel like being on a secret mission

i found one of their previous albums, Psycho Tropical Berlin, sort of a one-hit wonder with Hypsoline (the credits song for As Above So Below) but it really is a fucking banger

i want the album art as a shirt So Bad but not enough to pay $25 shipping from france about it.

i think this was off the spotify weekly discover playlist? can't imagine where else i would have run across it

-

reading

remember the vampire-adjacent private detective novels i was reading? not the ones from last week, the earlier ones. the author alexis hall chucks you a free short story Sand and Ruin and Gold if u sign up for his mailing list.

i think the orca comparisons are a touch heavy-handed at times, but the imagery in this thing...i really am a sucker for the rot of a coastal tourist trap. i bear no fondness, but i do give them a weary nod of acknowledgement. this town is a construct for other people to enjoy. i typed out a very long thing about how the economics of tourism shaped the town and everything about the civic calendar down to the school year, but--it was not really meant to have real residents or be a real place. there was absolutely nothing to do and nowhere to hang out without paying for anything in the off season.

It was just after closing on Reunification Day, the last of the stragglers gathered up and banished back to their world. A spiral of faded, plastic bunting from the celebrations had blown into one of the pools. I went to get a pole to hook it out but heard a splash and turned in time to see Nerites leap from the water in a gleam of skin and scales. The wind whisked the ribbon from between his fingers, and he reached after it, his body twisting sinuously in the air before he crashed into the pool again.

I’d never seen him—or any of them—move like that before. The jumps and slides we taught them were supposed to mimic their natural behaviours, but they rarely performed them spontaneously. And this was something else again: a wild leap and an ungainly splash, more beautiful to me than the most perfect bow or spin because it seemed so absolutely heedless.

He surfaced again, almost vertical, spinning in the pale-grey spray, one hand catching for the bunting’s tail. A tug, and it tumbled from the sky, nothing but a lifeless piece of string.

i am beginning to remember that all the shit that really sticks in my brain is in short stories and novellas you (general, including me) have never heard of.

-

watching

star wars resistance. i am finding this far more enjoyable than the bad batch or the mandalorian bc it has something of a storyline that it sticks to, even though most of the runtime is a teen... he's not really a teen, he was a new republic pilot so he's probably like twenty but in my heart he's like fifteen. part of the appeal of ds9 for me was a very consolidated set of recurring background characters and getting to see that there are other things/factions/people all working for their own ends. baby's first practice spy mission.

the ship design is really killer: it asks and answers the question "what if a pirate spaceship was also a galleon?"

i find myself excited to watch the next episode, which is not a familiar feeling when i watch star wars stuff. i really hope s2 holds my interest as much as s1 did.

why am i doing this? i have seen all the star wars except for: most of the LEGO stuff, most of the addendum and errata for tcw (including the crystal crisis arc), the holiday special, and most of the droids and ewoks animated shows. like i am Really scraping the bottom of the barrel here, even though i'm not really sure why this show fell into such obscurity.

-

playing

a bit cranky with weird west, bc i think to get past this stealth level i will have to dismiss my companion (can't seem to knock out guards unless i'm standing up, the companion AI has a very loose definition of "staying close" and is only "invisible" if you're also crouching, and you can't direct your companion to stay put in one place OR to stay close/stay crouched permanently. i may have exhausted most of the appeal of the world on my first fifteen-hour run through the first story. i am more than a little disappointed bc i did have a fuckton of fun in those fifteen hours and was expecting the good times to continue.

-

making

still halfheartedly poking away at the baby blanket, less than half a repeat this week and i don't feel like getting up, digging the blanket out of the catproof bag, and putting enough lights on for a real photo. this is repeat 7/10 tho so we are slowly approaching the end

[bethagain]

So I discovered OFMD Fluffvember and couldn't resist jumping in with a sweet little scene for Stede and Ed.

The prompt was: Sunrise/Sunset｜"This might seem weird, but…"

And here's what I came up with. Also on AO3 as Let's Turn the Days Upside-down.

---

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

Ed’s always thought so, but it’s not something you talk about. Sure, on a clear night the stars are reliably gorgeous, and the moon makes shining furrows on the water. Clouds and silver linings, bird flocks crossing. Sometimes the sky is black above and the sea is black around you, and the ship is the only thing that seems alive in the entire circle of the world. Sometimes the sea glows silver-blue with its own light. If you’re very lucky you’ll catch a pod of dolphins glowing with phosphorescence, dancing off the bow. 

You might nod to the other guy on watch as you pass by. Tip your chin toward the stunning glow of early dawn. But you don’t talk about it. 

Unless, apparently, you are Stede Bonnet. 

Who is sitting on a rock by the sea, trousers rolled up and feet covered in sand, leaning back on his hands, eyes fixed on the sky. “Shooting star,” he says. 

Ed looks just in time to see the flash fade away. 

"You must have seen so many amazing things out there,” Stede says, still looking out over the waves. “What’s your favorite thing to see at night?"

Ed knows the obvious answer–I’m looking at him–isn’t the one he’s asking for. He settles beside Stede on the rock. The sea tonight is gentle. It rolls in steadily but softly, lines of white at the crests of tiny waves. 

Stede nudges him, shoulder to shoulder: Are you going to answer me or what?

“I don’t know.” A zig-zag of lightning on the horizon. The masts glowing with St. Elmo’s fire. Rigging lit up, sudden and sharp, in the heart of a storm. “All of it, I guess.” 

“Tell me?”

He can see it all clear in his mind, memory stacked on memory, thirty-two years at sea. “This might seem weird, but I don’t think I can.”

Stede sits with that for a while. “Can you tell me why not?”

He doesn’t have words for that either, but he has an idea. “Want to try something?”

They haven’t known each other very long. Every time Ed asks that question, he wonders if this will be the time Stede stops saying yes. 

What he gets this time is a curious half-smile. “Probably?” 

“Let’s stay up all night.”

“We’re not kids anymore,” Stede says gently. “I don’t know that I’d make it till morning.”

“We’ll plan it out,” Ed says. 

“Go on,” Stede says, and Ed thinks he’s probably humoring him but he keeps going anyway.  

Nobody’s relying on them right now. No ship, no crew. No customers, either, because even though they are innkeepers now, for real, or at least for real soon, as soon as they, y’know, open for business, they don’t actually run an inn yet. “We’ll go to bed at sunrise and get up at sunset. Picture that, life of luxury. We get to lie in bed all day.”

“And how long are we planning to go nocturnal?”

Well, not forever, because you probably can’t run an inn when you’ve got your mornings and evenings switched. Even though people are mostly paying you for the nighttime part. “A week or two?”

That bright star on the horizon is Jupiter. Mars shines red further west. The North Star anchors the sky above their heads. 

Stede leans against Ed’s side, making a line of warmth in the cool evening air. “Sure, why not?”

The first night, they walk for miles along coves and clifftops, stopping to wade in phosphorescent water, watching the tide creep in and back out again from a promontory above the sea. 

The second night, they take the rowboat out under a full moon, lie down across the benches, and watch the stars turn.

The third night, a storm rolls in across the water, sends heavy rain pattering across the beach, and sails inland on its own wind. Right in the middle of it, Ed grabs Stede’s hand and tugs him from their covered porch and down to the beach, where they stand together on the strip of sand that’s narrowed by the wind-whipped waves, arms open, and let the rain pound against their skin. And Stede laughs, as the wind turns his hair wild and rain rushes down his face, and Ed laughs with him.

The fourth night, Stede stands at the window as the stars emerge. Ed steps up beside him and hands over a mug of tea. The sea is still. The air is calm. They walk together to the water, which shines glossy and smooth under unimpeded stars. Everything’s hushed, nothing moving but the sea. Ed’s not sure who starts yawning first, but it’s contagious. “I’m tired,” he admits, at the same time as Stede says, “Can we go to bed?”

Over breakfast the next morning–started well after sunrise, and consisting of tea and toast in bed–Ed asks: “What was your favorite thing to see at night?”

Stede doesn’t miss a beat. “I’m looking at him.”