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secretsantasides · 4 years

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Gift #14: Colorblind

Gift for @forestwulf

Prompt: Intrulogical Soulmate AU.

Logan massaged his temples as the nightclub music pounded in his ears, “I don’t know why you insist on coming here.”

“It’s twinks drink free night,” Patton said, sipping his appletini.

“You stopped being a twink ten years ago,” Logan muttered.

Patton sighed, “I’m going to ignore that because you’re my brother and I love you. Speaking of love-”

“Don’t,” Logan said. “Not this again.”

“Listen to me,” Patton said. “I’m worried about you, Logan. I know you’re a little robot and you don’t need romance in your life or any friends but-”

“I have friends,” Logan said.

“But,” Patton said. “You’re thirty years old and it’s starting to make mom sad on the holidays. When I met Ethan, it wasn’t sitting around at home and moping. I mean how long has it been since you were touched by another human being?”

“Soulmates,” Logan sighed. “Don’t start, Pat. I’ll gouge my eye out with this tiny umbrella.”

Patton rolled his eyes, “Logan it’s not just nonsense; it’s science! Just because you think you’re some kind of lone wolf doesn’t mean you don’t have a soulmate. Your eyes wouldn’t be grey if you weren’t still waiting for your person. So you can deny it all you want. It won’t change the fact that they’re waiting.”

“I don’t have time for a soulmate, Pat. You and Ethan just work better; you have time to be in love and he’s patient enough to deal with… you.”

Patton faked an offended gasp, “Just for that I’m not getting you a free drink next round! But you’re right, Ethan is perfect. However-”

“There is no however.”

”However,” Patton continued. “It doesn’t mean that there isn’t someone out there who’s just as patient with your bullshit as Ethan is with mine. Now look you made me swear. I hope you’re happy.”

“I think the three appletinis made you swear,” Logan said. “Don’t you have work tomorrow?”

“Actually I’m going out of town in two days with the girls so they gave me time off.”

“Out of town? That’s this week?” Logan asked.

Patton finished his drink, “I love how much you listen when I talk. The pandas are being moved to the zoo in Atlanta so their enclosure can be remodeled and we’re hoping to get some breeding done while we’re out there. That’s why I told you that you have to take mom to the optometrist on Monday. If you forget that, Logan-”

“Right right,” Logan said. “No I’ll remember it’s… it’s in my phone.” He looked at his empty glass of whiskey but pushed it aside, deciding he’d better stay sober, “So what’s Ethan thinking about this longterm separation?”

Patton snorted, “One of his retics laid a ton of eggs and she bit his face when he was pulling the clutch. Now he’s walking around like Crocodile Dundee. Plus the whole clutch is viable so we’re looking at a lot of new snakes to add to the national program. He’s in talks with a zoo in Taiwan too about some bloodline trades. It’s really annoying sometimes. He gets dozens of babies a season and I’m lucky if I’ll see more than two or three in my career.”

“Well you chose the pandas,” Logan said.

“I’ll have you know the pandas chose me,” Patton said. “You want another drink?”

“Nah, I’ll drive you home,” Logan said. “Go flirt with the bartender and see if he’ll pretend to think you’re young some more.”

Patton laughed as he slid out of his seat, walking over to the bar. On the dancefloor Logan saw a small group of students, a few of which he recognized—one in particular a large pain in his ass. Remus Prince, Quarterback of the university football team and well-known idiot. Logan wished Remus was the typical jock idiot, uncaring and arrogant, one he could easily fail without a second thought, but Remus was bound and determined to make up for his own shortcomings with hard work and extra credit. It meant that half of Logan’s office hours were spent patiently explaining things to Remus again and again, and accepting an outlandish amount of extra credit work.

And—even more annoyingly—through it all Remus was cheerful, friendly and actually interested in what Logan had to say. Worse still, Remus was a senior, only four years younger than Logan who was the baby of the science department and didn’t he just hate that little nickname? Remus was like a peer, but worse, a jock, the kind of person that would have made Logan’s life miserable if they’d ever walked the same halls together as students. The revelation that Remus was gay was… interesting? No, not interesting. He’s a student and you don’t care. Logan rubbed his eyes and sighed, jumping when Patton returned with two appletinis. He sat down and stared at his brother matter-of-factly, “Guess how much these cost me?”

Logan raised an eyebrow and couldn’t stop the smile that tugged at his lips, “How are we related?”

Patton was a lot heavier than he looked when he needed to be carried, and Logan struggled up the stairs to the door of the apartment, knocking on the door. It was a cute place, all brick and right on the street, divided in half horizontally to make a duplex, but it was roomy and it was nice for two people on zookeeper salary; it was inexpensive—for Florida. Ethan opened the door and Logan gasped, “Ethan, your face!”

Ethan did smile, and there was more than a little pride in it, “Don’t worry. She hit above and below my eye but the doc said to keep a full dressing on it at night so I don’t rub anything off. He cool?”

“Vodka drunk,” Logan said, hauling Patton inside and laying him on the couch. “Not too bad but I told him I’d stay sober and I think he needed to drink off some stress.”

“The move, yeah,” Ethan said, following Logan back to the door. “And my face. He’s not really loving how many times I take the bandage off to show people but it’s my first big tag! You wanna see the pictures from the ER?”

“Gosh I’d love to but I have class in the morning so-”

“Ethan!” Patton called from the livingroom, “Come sex me up, Mr. Snake Whisperer!”

“Good luck with that,” Logan said. “Tell him to call me when he’s less obnoxious.”

“Will do,” Ethan said. “Bye Logan.”

Logan snorted when Patton called again and started down the stairs, “Good luck!”

Logan looked at himself in the mirror after taking out his contacts and smiled at his grey eyes; grey was distinguished, and he didn’t mind having a constant reminder—for himself and others—that he was beyond all of this soulmate nonsense. He was a lone wolf, just like Patton said, and his true love was forensic anthropology—or biology, as he was currently teaching. His application was top in line for the anthropology department, however, and he had consulted a time or two on actual cases. So, despite Patton’s—and his mother’s—insistence that his life was somehow incomplete, Logan couldn’t be happier. He turned off the bathroom light and crawled into bed, thinking back over his tasks for the day, all of which he’d completed before he ever set foot inside the gay bar with his brother. It was the same way he lulled himself to sleep every night, assured of all of his accomplishments, large and small, and how every day was a blank slate.

Sleep came quick for him, thanks to the single glass of whiskey and the exhaustion of dealing with his drunk brother—and his sober brother-in-law. His dreams were blurry and immemorable until suddenly his vision was filled with green. There were calloused hands on his skin, warm lips on his cheek and breath in his ear, and he was held against a solid body with a grip that was surprisingly strong. He closed his eyes and still all he could see was green.

Logan gasped and sat up, checking the clock and scowling; it was still the middle of the night and he was baffled by the strange dream and irredeemably hard. He sighed heavily and climbed out of bed, heading back into the bathroom and turning the shower to cold, stripping off his pajamas. Who the hell did he know that was associated with green, anyway? He didn’t even like the color green, his favorite color was indigo, far from the blinding lime he’d been accosted with in his dream. Any thoughts of the dream went screaming from his mind when he stepped into the water; his chest tightened and he exhaled involuntarily, “F-fuck!”

He tightened his hands into fists and endured the water, somehow preferring cold-induced heart palpitations to ward off an unwanted erection than perhaps the more obvious—and less miserable—solution. It was easier to be stubborn and miserable than to admit—and revel in—the fact that something had gotten him going, and that it had to be the dream. Whiskey wasn’t exactly known for facilitating physical arousal, and he’d barely had enough to taste in the first place.

“Morning!” Remus announced as he knocked on the open office door.

“Good morning,” Logan said, “Come in, Mr. Prince.” He cleared away the end of his desk where Remus usually worked and stacked up the papers elsewhere. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Remus laughed, his cheeks a bit pink; Logan wondered if he was getting a cold—and how much that would panic the other professors about the state of the football team. He took a sip of his coffee as he sat down. Remus scratched the back of his neck, “Well I have the three essays to turn in, and I did the makeup dissection test with Professor Picane’s Zoological Anatomy class… the uh… feral pig?”

“Fetal pig,” Logan said, putting his coffee cup aside. “He sent your scores up to me. Good work. You got everything right except for the microscope work. We’re still struggling with cellular identification. I spoke with Emile and he said you actually seemed to have issues where things were similarly colored, so I took the liberty of emailing you some color-blind tests. I’m also inviting you to come in during my freshman course tomorrow. I use different dyes in my slides and I think you’ll benefit from it.”

“Great!” Remus said. “You really go above and beyond to help me, Professor Heart. I um… well, thank you so much.”

Logan crossed his legs, leaning back in his chair, “You know, Remus, I think you’ve got a lot of potential, and I think you’ve been pushed through classes due to your athletic prowess—to your detriment. I really want to help you understand that you’re not lacking in intelligence, you understand. You’ve got the answers, we’ve just had to learn how to get to them, right?”

“Right,” Remus said, ducking his head shyly. “You’re always right.”

“Now, with these three essays and with you making up the microscope work tomorrow, there’s no need for anymore extra credit work. You’ve got this, Mr. Prince. All you have to do is attend all of the lectures and you’ll be on track for a strong grade in this class. Do you feel like you need any more help?”

Remus hesitated, “I mean… you’ve done so much. I know you’ve basically changed my life, and how I feel about science—school in general! I um… I guess if I need anything I’ll just schedule a day before finals. If you think I can do it, I think I can do it.”

Logan smiled, “Very good, Remus. You’ve got this.”

Remus set the three essays down on the empty part of the desk and looked over them, “I can’t believe this is it, you know? I’m going to graduate in less than a month.”

“Another year on the books,” Logan said. “Wait until you’re my age.”

“You’re not old,” Remus said. “You’re still in your twenties too. Oh!” He picked up his backpack and dug through it, pulling out a small cardboard box. He set it on the desk. “I know your real interest is anthropology, like the cop kind, and I um… well, my dad works in the big museum uptown. They got a few of these and they gave my dad two of them.”

Logan took the box and opened it, raising an eyebrow as he took out a human skull, obviously prepared and preserved professionally. “This is a nicely intact specimen. You’re certain this is alright?”

“Yeah my dad said he’d rather it go to somebody who wants it than just gather dust in our basement or the museum’s basement. Oh they said it had uh… crouton disease?”

“Crouzon Disease,” Logan said, standing up. “Hyperostosis Frontalis Interna, very interesting. Thank you Remus this is incredibly thoughtful.”

Remus watched Logan put the skull in a central place on his shelf of books and specimens; it looked good, but Remus wasn’t really paying attention to the skull, especially when Logan turned and gave him a smile, extending his hand. Remus jumped up and shook it eagerly, “Thank you again, professor. You’re my hero. You’re especially my parents’ hero.”

Logan chuckled, and the touch was mildly electric, probably static, but it made Logan shiver, “You’re the hero, Mr. Prince. Remember that, hard work got you this far, and it’ll take you wherever you want to go.”

Remus nodded, slowly releasing Logan’s hand and stepping back to grab his backpack. “Well, see you in class tomorrow! Eight, right?”

“Right,” Logan said. “And don’t forget the possibility of a pop quiz tomorrow in your actual class.”

“Possibility,” Remus chuckled. “Good one, Professor Heart. See you then.”

Logan watched him go and sighed, turning to admire the skull, a warmth blooming in his chest he’d never really felt before. It really was a nice skull, he supposed.

Logan drove home with that feeling intact, almost floating into the elevator and riding it up to his floor. After making it down the hallway, and the obligatory avoidance of his neighbor’s eyes, he stepped into his apartment and locked the door behind him. He felt bone-deep exhausted—probably from the dream-cursed night before—and he went straight to the bathroom to take out his contacts. Once his contacts were safely back in their saline baths, he brushed his teeth, grabbing his glasses off of the vanity and putting them on. He admired his eyes—his green eyes. Logan gasped and squeezed his eyes closed, opening them again, still green. He took off his glasses, and his reflection was blurry, but clearly green eyes stared back at him. The warmth in his chest suddenly became a sharp icicle, and he realized. Green, Remus Prince. “Fuck!” Logan shouted, turning off the light and rushing out to his bedroom. He sat on the bed and pulled his cellphone out of his pocket, dialing his brother.

The phone rang several times, and went to voicemail; Logan swore again and dialed the home phone, “Come on Pat come on.”

“Hey Logan! What’s up?”

“Ethan? Oh, is Pat… oh shit.”

“Alabama,” Ethan said. “Yeah. You ok?”

“No, not at all… oh god. Can we talk? Like do you have time?” Logan stood up, pacing around the bed. “I have… an awkward situation.”

“You? I don’t believe it.”

Logan sighed and Ethan laughed, “I’d like to be serious with you for a moment.”

“Of course,” Ethan said. “Go ahead.”

“When you realized you were Patton’s soulmate, was there a feeling?”

“Hm,” Ethan said. “Actually, yes. I thought I had heartburn, actually. Just like this warmth in my chest? It sounds a bit stereotypical but yeah. I felt warm. That night when I was washing my face I realized my eyes had changed. You doing a study?”

“Um… no,” Logan admitted. “My eyes are green.”

“Oh! Oh my god! Did you tell your mom?”

“Please, Ethan. I have only told you.”

“Do you know who it is?” Ethan asked. “Any clue?”

“One of my students,” Logan said. “The… football player.”

“Oh yeah I remember Patton mentioning him, the stupid one right?”

Logan bristled, “He isn’t stupid. He’s…” He sighed, rubbing his temple, “Well, thank you Ethan. You’ve answered my question.”

“Text Pat,” Ethan said. “He’ll lose his shit.”

“Goodnight, Ethan,” Logan said.

Logan hung up and set his phone on the nightstand before undressing, pulling on a pair of pajama pants and climbing into bed. He turned off the lamp and pulled the blanket over his head, willing himself to sink into the earth.

The following morning’s class was a blur of barely-controlled panic and dread, but luckily Remus barely even spared him a glance, intent on taking and passing his cellular identification exam. Logan pretended to grade papers when Remus came up to his desk, and his heart surged like it had, warming to Remus like a rock in the sun, “See you in class.”

Logan gave a noncommittal sound, and Remus left the classroom, allowing Logan to finally breathe. Ignoring this wasn’t going to be easy, and Logan was already getting frantic texts from his brother demanding an explanation. Logan briefly wondered how hard it would be to vanish without changing universities. The worst part, without question, was how badly he wanted Remus to touch him, even just a brush of his hand. His body was like a magnet and his hands were shaking even though their closeness had been brief. At least his upcoming class was taking a pop quiz, and they were to clear out as soon as answers were submitted.

Logan remained more or less glued to the desk during the hour between classes, grading the microscope work—Remus hadn’t missed a single slide, so Picane’s catch on the colorblindness had been spot on. Logan had felt a stab of jealousy, absurd as it was, that he hadn’t realized it sooner, first, because Remus was his soulmate—his.

“Mine,” Logan muttered to himself, then his face heated up when he realized what he’d said, and he looked down to realize he’d written it on Remus’ exam answers. Quickly scratching it out he pushed the test aside and lowered his face to the desk. “What a nightmare.”

“What’s a nightmare, Mr. Heart?”

Logan looked up to see his first student sliding into her desk, and he forced a chuckle, “The state of the economy in nineteenth century Luxembourg.” He stood up and began writing on the board.

“Will that be on the final?” another student asked. The classroom had started filling up.

“Not unless I’ve ever written it on this board,” Logan said. “We start final prep next week, don’t forget.”

He finished filling out the board as the rest of his students filed in, and once his watch beeped cheerily that class had started, he heard a voice pick up behind him, the same girl from before, “Is that your favorite tie, Mr. Heart? You wear it a lot.”

“It’s my favorite color,” Logan said without turning around. “As charming as the distraction is, I haven’t forgotten the pop quiz.” He turned around and Remus was staring at him, mouth open in shock. On either side of him, his linebacker buddies were looking at one another, and Logan realized his mistake in revealing his favorite color—because he knew better than anyone what color Remus’ eyes must be now. Wincing, he adjusted his glasses, “Alright, please take out a clean sheet of paper and answer the questions I’ve written on the board. When you’re finished please leave them up here and you may go.”

Logan sat at his desk and pretended to be working, jumping when the first student turned in their quiz, but calmed and kept his eyes down as the steady stream of quizzes landed on his desk. He was starting to feel safe when most of his students had gone, and he made the mistake of looking up when a loud pair of sneakers stopped at his desk. The room was empty, and Remus Prince was standing at his desk, quiz in his hand. He set it down with the others and shoved his hands in his pockets, “Your eyes are green. I never noticed.”

Logan paled and stared up at Remus, “I um… it’s recent.”

Remus nodded, “Me too, indigo, right? It’s a weird blue for eyes. My brother said they look like Liz Taylor whoever that is.”

Logan let out a nervous little laugh, looking down at the paper he’d been doodling on only to realize he’d been writing the word mine over and over, “Yeah. She had um… dark eyes. So I suppose you’ve met your soulmate then, congratulations, Mr. Prince.”

Remus looked around and then back at Logan, “You’re going to pretend it isn’t you?”

Logan was feeling very much like a deer in the headlights, but at the same time heat was playing in his chest. He pushed his chair back and stood up, tensing when Remus reached to grab his wrist, “I’m not-” Logan tried to pull away but Remus shook his head, “I’m not pretending anything I… damn it. Damn it I’m afraid, ok? You’re a student!”

“Not for long! Like two weeks from now I’m taking the final, and unless I stop showing up entirely, there’s no way I’m failing. I did the math which I know will impress you because I’m such an idiot.”

“Mr. Prince,” Logan said, then sighed. “Remus… is this even something you want? A relationship dictated by some… some system we don’t even understand? By colors and chance and… what, fate? You want to let the universe stick you with someone… someone like me?”

Remus laughed and released Logan, covering his face with his hands, “You don’t fucking get it, do you? You really don’t.”

Logan wrapped his arms around himself, blushing and adjusting his glasses, “Don’t get what?”

“I have wanted you since before I started in this class!” Remus said. “My brother, the attention whore? He had me come here last semester to pick up a paper for him, remember? If it was just fate shoving us together it would have happened then… but it didn’t. I thought you were hot, so I signed up for your class because I figured I’d cheat my way through and have a hot prof to stare at right?”

“Hot?”

“Just let me finish,” Remus said. “When I came in here and sat down at that desk and I listened to you read the syllabus… and all of your weird bone jokes and that thing about the swamp mummy?”

“Bog bodies, the Tollund Man, yes,” Logan said. “You remember that?”

“Yeah because you cared, like you actually cared about it. You’re not just here because you couldn’t get a career and you’re not just here to waste time. You really care about what you’re teaching us, and I know you’re trying to switch departments but whatever, you know what I mean… there’s a lot of passion there and it made me give a shit. It took me forty-five minutes to fall in love with your stupid class, and maybe two or three classes to fall in love with you… but still it didn’t happen. Because it didn’t happen until you fell in love with me.”

Logan was silent as he stared at Remus, his mouth hanging open; he took a sharp breath, shoving his hands in his pockets, “Jesus.”

“Well? Am I right?” Remus said, tears welling up in his eyes. “It’s the mustache right? My friends told me that’s the reason you didn’t tell me. Because you hate it. I don’t even care. I’ll shave it off, ok? I don’t care if it’s good luck I-”

Logan crossed the short distance between them and kissed Remus, cutting him off. Remus grabbed Logan’s collar and pulled him closer, deepening the kiss. Logan’s mind spun, and his knees went weak. Remus had no trouble holding him up, and when they finally broke the kiss, Logan smiled sheepishly. “I don’t hate the mustache, as much as I wish I did. I really don’t.”

Remus buried his face against Logan’s shoulder and laughed, “Great because I really need to keep it if I’m going to get drafted. Three of the NFL scouts commented on it.”

“Yes I’m sure you’ll bring back the seventies mustache. Your parents will be ecstatic.”

“Yeah… so um… are we dating?”

“No,” Logan said, then off Remus’ look he hurried to elaborate. “Not until you pass this class of your own merit. Like you said, it’s no big deal and then, the second your final grade is logged in the university database… we can date.”

Remus smiled, smoothing down Logan’s shirt as he stepped back, “Right, cool um… hey I should probably go then, right? Got studying to do. Bye teach.”

“Mr. Prince,” Logan said, sinking back down into his seat once Remus was gone.

It was going to be a long couple of weeks.

#fanfic #soulmate au #secretsantasides #intrulogical #logan sanders #ts logan #remus sanders #ts remus

208 notes · View notes

maple-writes · 3 years

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WHG 14: Boat 5

tagging @concealeddarkness13 (Triel, Nesri, Zenith) @ratracechronicler (Elvira, Rebecca) @pen-of-roses (Lynn, Rowan, Laurel) (I think those are all the others in this anyway lol)

###

The next morning came and the others went off to grab their targets and I slipped my way into the main room where Ceasar was finishing up one of his first presentations of the day. According to Amy and her notes, this one was something to do with a new fashion line, and the next would be introducing some performer. Unfortunately for them, I didn’t think they would be getting their chance to perform today. The crowd still seemed a little sleepy, muted enjoyment ebbing from partygoers as I brushed by them, making my way towards the front, towards the stage. No one seemed to notice when I didn’t laugh at Ceasar’s jokes, and no one seemed to notice me weaving past them. I guess that was one good thing about missing half my soul if it made me easier to ignore, easier to overlook, just a step up from some inanimate thing.

Applause filled the room as he finished his talk and stepped off the stage. Ten minutes. That’s what the schedule said. I smiled, already starting to get excited. More than enough time to set myself up. Peering out from the front of the crowd, it looked like no one had expected anything to happen here. No security that I could see, no railings, just an open stage low enough to clamber up on. Perfect. Chances were peacekeepers would be more focused on guarding the tributes, on patrolling the secluded areas of the ship to catch us doing anything out of line. But here? Here in the spotlight, center stage, with dozens upon dozens of eyes on the shining star? Fools. They’d never see it coming.

Chatter replaced the applause and the waiting began. Surrounded by casual patrons, I curled my hands in my pockets, fingernails already starting to sharpen. It was all I could do not to vibrate with excitement, with energy. When else could I justify doing this again? Ginger would kill me if she knew what I was about to do, where I was about to do it, in front of so many people, so many potential victims. But I could handle it. I could, I could. I’d practiced, I’d worked on it, and I wouldn’t go too far. Just enough. I smiled, lips pressed together to hide my teeth. Just enough to scare him, to make him fear, to make him fear in front of everyone.

Cheers jolted me alert as the lights went back up and Ceasar strutted back on stage, adjusting the little microphone headset by his face.

“Hello again distinguished guests!” He flashed a smile of too-perfect teeth. “Thank you for your patience!”

My cue. Ceasar paused for affect and I went for it before I could change my mind. I scooted forward and hopped up on the stage. The lights shone hot and blinding on my shoulders, but I hardly noticed, eyes locked on Ceasar as he stared, shocked and confused to the silence of the crowd.

Ceasar only took a second to regain an image of composure. “Ah, can I—”

“You don’t recognize me?”

As soon as I spoke he froze, paling even under his layer of makeup. I grinned, teeth sharp and shadowy horns starting to materialize off my head like smoke as I stalked towards him. Every step closer and I could already start to feel his nerves, buzzing just off his skin to crawl across mine. Coward.

I laughed, coming up behind him to snarl into his ear. “So you do? You know exactly who I am don’t you?” He didn’t respond and I grabbed his jaw, digging the points of my claws into his skin. Not enough to bleed, not enough to cut, but enough. Enough that he knew. “Aw, come on now, say something.”

The lights flickered, shadow gathering around my legs where it couldn’t reach the floor. Disappeared before it could find it’s destination. Panic flooded from my grip on his face, hot and fast and racing straight to my heart. Straight to my heart where it sped and sped. He wasn’t going to say anything. He wasn’t. He’d never not been in control.

“Not so confident now are you?” I jeered and leaned in closer, leaning over his shoulder to let him see me, see my teeth, see my horns, see the tails twitching in the dark. “Go on, scream. Scream and beg for someone to come save you, to come help you, to stop this.”

I twisted his head, making him look to the petrified crowd. “You think those are your friends, your fans?” I asked with a cock of my head and a cruel smirk. “You remember what I said to you? How I could hurt you? How I could tear your skin from your bones and your bones from your body? Do you really think any of them would come save you? Come save you when it’s that bloodlust they crave so much?”

This time he struggled, pulling back from my grip and leaving thin scratches down his face where he wrenched from my grip. I could see him shake, see him panic and I stood up taller. I stood taller, holding my hands out to my sides and laughing, laughing, louder and louder. The lights went out, power drained and gone from the very wires running through the inside of the ship, from the bulbs screwed into the fixtures as shadow grew behind me.

“That’s what you want, isn’t it?” I twisted, leaning over the stage at the crowd. They flinched back, pushing and bumping each other to put distance between them and the stage where I stood, where I stood overlooking them and snarling, laughing, threatening. “You want blood, you want violence? Well what are you so afraid of? What are you so afraid of now that you have it, now that you have it right here? Isn’t this what you wanted? What you vied so hard to get with your tickets and your events?”

None of them responded, of course they wouldn’t. They only liked the thought of pain, the idea of bloodshed.

“Well lucky for you, maybe you’ll get just a little. I want you to watch, isn’t that what you’re here for?”

I turned, snatching Ceasar by his sleeve and hauling him back to center stage. He staggered, struggling for balance as I grabbed him again, sinking my claws into his shoulder to turn him around. Fresh panic flowed from his skin though my bones, through my veins, and the thin trickle of blood down my hand. He wavered, weakening, struggling. I was taking a lot from him. He wasn’t used to it. Everything near me, everything around me was fair game. The lights, his strength, the crowd’s fear, it all came to me. Came to me and died when it reached my skin, my blood, my body, like the light itself that turned to dark rising all up my back like crawling insects and creeping illness.

“Oh?” I pushed Ceasar down, bent at the hip with a hand in his hair to overlook the crowd. “Is it different now? Different now that you’re here, that you’re seeing it, that he’s one of your own? Oh no. Oh poor you?” I dipped down, looking Ceasar in his half-closed, half-conscious eyes. “What ever will we do about that?” He didn’t say anything, of course he wouldn’t. His heart was probably beating weaker already, drained, struggling with the energy lost through my hand on the back of his neck. “Awfully quiet now aren’t you?”

I pushed him down and he lay there, crumpled and limp on the stage floor. He struggled, tried to move, tried to get his arms and his legs and his limbs under him to get up, to run, to do anything, but he couldn’t. Couldn’t do anything as I loomed above him, stared down at him with just enough of his own blood on my hands for him to notice. For him to know. For him to start thinking to himself, pleading to whoever he plead to to try and save his life.

And I could kill him. I could kill him right now. Slice though his neck, server that one critical artery running straight from his heart to his head. Plunge my hand into his throat and tear out the trachea, tear out that voice he loved to hear so much. Cut through his stomach, tear out all the soft parts hidden inside and leave them to rot and ooze all over the clean floors.

I could do it. Could do it right here, right now, right now. My heart raced, fast and excited in my chest. Fast like a greyhound, a greyhound held back by nothing more than a gate with it’s eyes fixed on a lure. On a rabbit, on a prey, and any second that gate could open and out it would run, racing, until it caught it with it’s teeth. It’s teeth that tore flesh and—

He was lucky I promised Cirrus I’d stop myself. Lucky. Lucky bastard.

Snarling, I kicked him in the ribs instead, rolling him over onto his back before twisting to glare at the crowd again. “So that’s it? You’re just going to stand there? Stand there and watch?” I spat. “I thought at least you’d have the sense to run away. To save your own lives. Pathetic.”

I lowered my had and stepped across the stage and they pressed back again, some starting to wake up, some starting to figure it out. That this wasn’t a show. That this wasn’t what was supposed to be happening. Some ran, fleeing for an exit but they couldn’t get out because there stood Amy. The avox, the one Cirrus had sought out and how had so graciously given us all the information we could have needed.

There stood Amy with a peackeeper’s pistol.

She aimed it just above the heads of the crowd and fired. Fired loud and ear-splitting at the one remaining, one weakly shining candle chandelier in the middle of the ceiling.

It fell with a crash and the room plunged dark. Screams erupted, screams and shouts and cries and pleads. I could only laugh, cackling with my head back as they screamed and pushed and shoved and fought for anything to keep themselves safe. anything to get out of there. Anything. Anything. Anything

Another gun shot. And another. And another. Tiny flashes of light as glass broke, as windows shattered with the bullets fired from Amy’s new gun. Curtains pulled away and some tried to climb out, tearing up their expensive clothes on the broken glass. Others hid, hid as best they could under tables or in corners, frozen, fearing, fearing for their lives and lit only by the slowly growing fires from the downed candles taking hold on the carpets.

All while Ceasar lay on the floor, barely propping himself up on one elbow and staring in horror at the scene in front of him. At the scattered trays, at the broken crystal, at the drinks spilled n the floor and the panic seizing the crowd as they turned on each other, pushed and shoved and fought over trying to get out.

The shadowy silhouette of someone running the stage made me turn, snarling and drawing shadow up over my shoulders, but it was only Amy. She waved me on, towards her with her free hand, but I ignored her. I wasn’t done. I wasn’t done. There was still so much I could do here. Still so much I could.

Her hand closed around my wrist and she pulled, pulled me nearly off balance and toppling off the stage. I spat and fought, pulling back and swiping at her face but stopped myself just short. Just short of her eyes. Amy. This was a friend. A friend. She was on our side.

She flinched only a moment before yanking again, and I half relented, spitting and swearing as she dragged me out of the room and back into the sunlight of outside where I wrenched myself out of her grip.

“Get lost!” I spat, pushing her back against the side of the ship. “Leave me alone, let me, let me, I’m going to—”

“You’re not doing to do a damned thing Asher.”

Cirrus grabbed me from behind, hooking his arms under mind and dragging me back, away from Amy. She blinked, shook herself of and ran off along with us, towards the others, the others gathered underneath the ladder dropped down from the ship.

I stopped, stopped resisting as Cirrus half hauled, half guided me towards the others. The horns, the tails, they faded first as I clung to his arm. To something familiar, to something calm. It was over, time to draw back, time to stop, time to…

But I laughed, I shrieked, I shrieked with the glee of what I’d done. Of how Ceasar crumbled under me, the panic that still spread unmitigated through the main hall. That I could still hear, could still feel crawling under my skin and begging me to go back, to finish what I’d started, to—

“Come on, work with me here,” Cirrus hissed, trying to get me up the ladder. Amy was already way ahead of us, her stolen gun still in hand. “Climb the damn ladder.”

I sneered. “Fine, if you insist. If I must, but you—”

“Now, Asher.”

Right. The plan. The escape.

The three of us were among the last in the airship. Already the others had gathered in the hold, or whatever this place was, wherever we were on the ship. No one spoke, and I took a breath to shout, but Cirrus slapped his hand over my mouth and dragged me to one of the far walls. I growled something meaningless under my breath as he tried to get me to sit.

“No!” I growled. “Let me go! I want to—”

“You can do whatever you want later but you have to calm down first.” Cirrus grumbled, keeping his hands on my shoulders to try and hold me back. “Just sit down for now, okay? Come on.”

I grinned, pushing back against his grip just to bother him. Just to test him, to push, to tease. I grappled with him a little longer, grabbing at his hair, his clothes as he tried to wrestle me down. I laughed, sharp and giggling and Cirrus groaned.

“Come on Asher…” Something caught his eye and he glanced over his shoulder at Amy, celebrating and brandishing her stolen pistol in triumph. “Hey, put that away before you hurt someone.”

She didn’t listen, smiling from ear to ear like she hadn’t even heard him and Cirrus gave up, turning his focus back to me. This time he succeeded in wrestling me down, shoving me down to sit down on the floor against the wall. Fine, he won this time. I’d let him win this time. He was right. It was over. Time to calm down, but my heart still raced, my body still shook with too much energy, too much everything.

I hardly noticed when Triel entered, dripping wet and triumphant. “Congratulations on a successful heist! I couldn’t have done it without you!”

Rebecca whispered something, but I could only hear Elvira properly as she noticed Amy. “Ah… You must be Amy?”

She nodded eagerly, weapon still out despite Cirrus’ request to put it away. I smiled, near matching her smile. She deserved it, she should keep it. She must have been clever to steal a gun right off a peacekeeper like that.

Lynn looked up from Rowan and Laurel. “This is real right? You’re all really here, this is really happening?”

Rebecca nodded. “We are. You don’t still think we’re Peacekeepers, do you?”

Triel shook her head. “The winds were favoring us today. No one was able to come after us.”

I leaned back, grinning from ear to ear. She did it! The murrelet and her husband kept their promise. Lynn spoke next, but I only half paid attention, trying my best to slow my heart, to breath deep enough to ease the ache in my lungs. I clenched my fists, trying not to fix my eyes on the back of Cirrus’ leg. It was right there, right there, and even through the boots I could probably cut him. Probably cut through the skin enough to hurt, enough to get him down to… No no. I didn’t want to do that. Didn’t want to hurt him.

The conversation shifted, Nesri and Cirrus and Rebecca all teasing each other about the events in the apartment, of the popcorn throwing, of the spar in the living room, much to Lynn’s confusion. I listened in, staring up at Cirrus as he tried not to look amused. I was still smiling, grinning like an idiot as the lighthearted mood, the relieved celebration ran through my blood, not quite slowed enough to block it out yet.

Zenith grumbled something and Nesri chimed in, “Shenanigans, tomfoolery, etcetera.” She crossed her arms at him with a big smile. “Who’s the one that walked into the apartment in the middle of the night, cursed with magic, and had to bed Asher to knock you unconscious?”

I remember that! “That was Zenith!” I laughed, louder than I’d thought, throwing my head back against the wall. “Got himself cursed!”

Zenith sighed, as if trying to hide the little smile tugging at his lips. “Who’s the one who had me and Elvira swap bodies and then race?”

I grinned, teeth still a little too sharp, a little too far gone, but I didn’t care. Not with them. They knew me. They knew. “Are you just mad you lost?”

He muttered something under his breath, but didn’t say more, eyeing Elvira until Triel took over again and I stopped listening. Cirrus would tell me if she said anything I needed to know. He was always paying attention. I thought I heard something about phones, about a mansion, and something about communication, but I kept them all tuned out as I spread my hand over the metal flooring of the airship. The faint engine hum buzzed under my palm, firm and unyielding though the steel. Minute after minute, things slowed, my breathing, my heart, slowed back to where they should. Leaning back against the wall, I let my eyes close as everything started to feel heavy. I’d just have to join whatever celebrations there’d be a little later.

#whg 14 #writeblr hunger games #asher

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narcissasdaffodil · 3 years

Note

👄

My Halloween oneshot definitely fits this one! I couldn’t find a spot to divide it, so chucking the entire thing up!

Alecto opened the door to her room, placing the giant bag of Halloween sweets on her bed, along with the rest of the trick or treating bowl. She looked up, noticing Marisol in the doorway, and waved her in. By some miracle, the two of them had gained enough sweets to feed a small army.

“Shut the door behind you, if you could? If my younger siblings find out that I have this many sweets, they’ll want some which won’t be the best idea.” Alecto put a finger close to her lips, trying to not touch her black lipstick. She had dressed up as Wednesday Addams, and won a prize for the best costume. Combining trick or treating with entering a Halloween costume competition had managed to generate so many sweets.

Marisol nodded, pulling the door shut and placing her own haul of sweets on Alecto’s bed.

“I’m not surprised that you won best costume. You look amazing, well, you always do.” Marisol blushed, taking a seat and ducking her head slightly, the sweets rustling loudly as she accidentally placed her hands on them. She moved her hands into her lap, fiddling with the bracelet on her wrist.

Alecto moves the sweets into a neatish pile, taking a seat next to Marisol and crossing her legs. It felt strange between them, for a reason Alecto couldn’t put a finger on. They’d been best friends since primary school, even staying close with taking different sets of A Levels and having completely different schedules. At least they were in the same form still, and had the horror that was Welsh Bac in common.

“Thanks, so do you.” Alecto tried to put a hand on Marisol’s shoulder, but she moved away.

Marisol shook her head, staying in the same position. “I literally put no effort into this, just decided to be a cat. I had the headband anyway, so, all that was needed was cat’s whiskers. I felt very self conscious though, being around everyone in proper costumes. You had the right idea, choosing to dress up as Wednesday is simple, but effective. I just...didn’t want to make a fool of myself.”

The hair band on her head moved forward as she dipped her head further.

“It’s fine that you weren’t feeling comfortable with it, there was seriously no pressure. A Halloween costume contest is literally one of the only places you can dress up without fear, I wouldn’t wear this out. Actually maybe I would, but not with this much makeup!” Alecto stood up, retrieved a makeup wipe from the chest of drawers, wiping off her lipstick, and starting to remove the rest of the white face paint. She removed her glasses, looking at herself in the mirror to make sure she had got all of it. Seeing her freckles start to reappear was great, she was pale naturally but wasn’t ghost pale.

She grinned, taking a seat again. “That’s a lot better. Why’s makeup so heavy on your face?”

She unclipped her fringe, brushing it into place with her fingers. She looked over to Marisol, noticing the distance that had appeared between them.

“Hey. Are you okay? You’re a bit quiet. I’m here for you if you need me.”

Marisol looked up, pushing her cat ear headband back into place and gave her a soft smile. “I’ll be okay. It’s just stupid.” She bit her lip, retrieving a bag of Starburst and opening them, picking one from the bag and focusing all her attention on unwrapping the tiny sweet.

Alecto put her glasses back on, retrieving her own sweets and resting a gentle arm on Marisol’s shoulder.

Marisol looked over to her, not moving away, and turned in her direction, forgetting the open bag of Starburst in her lap, which spilled on the floor. She ignored the sweets, moving closer to Alecto and putting gentle arms around her, looking into her eyes.

“Is this okay? Or am I assuming stuff? I’ve seen the way you look at Abby, and talk about her. But I might be...imagining things…” Marisol’s words are cut off by Alecto’s lips landing on hers. She’s shocked to start with, but snaps out of it, kissing her back. What if you’re destined to love your best friend? She’s bisexual, but that doesn’t necessarily mean that she loves you! What if these feelings you’re feeling are real, and there’s not something wrong with loving girls as well as guys? You’re still so unsure, your parents are accepting as far as you know, but you’re still scared.

They separate to catch their breath, and stare at each other for a little while. Marisol noticed Alecto’s shining eyes, how they appeared to sparkle in the light of the purple lamp close to her, and how happy she appeared. She had ignored her own feelings for what felt like a while, and she was struggling to handle them bubbling over. She’d be spending time with Alecto, and finding herself zoning out, distracted by how pretty she was. What must it be like to grow up that beautiful?

Alecto laughed slightly, nudging her. The sound itself was so beautiful. “You’re not assuming stuff, by the way. My first kiss was actually with Abby. I did tell you that, didn’t I?”

Marisol nodded. “I was just scared, I guess. Not you, or anything. I just don’t know how to define myself, I’ve had these… crushes on girls which I couldn’t explain, things that felt different to how I felt for guys, but different. I’m not doing a great job of explaining.” She bit her lip, her cheeks flushing.

“There’s no rush, with finding yourself. I do understand you though. Kissing Abby made me realise that I was definitely bisexual, that liking her like that was good, and right and there was nothing wrong with it. I first came out properly when I was thirteen, and I found myself questioning it, because of the reaction of both Andromeda and Étienne. They were the first people I told, and I got scared that they were right, that thirteen was too young to truly know. That I was just imagining it, pretending to be something I wasn’t for attention. Then I kissed Abby at her party that year, and realised that I wasn’t imagining it, it was real. I felt like I understood myself more, and came out to you, and to everyone else, while still having this crush on Abby. Which I won’t act on, she’s got a girlfriend now. Which is besides the point. I understand your fears, as I’ve been there myself. But sometimes you have to just tell yourself that it’s okay, and far better to risk it, even if it’s just a phase, as you never know what’s going to happen. It could be real, it’s likely to be real from my experience anyway.” Alecto gently took her hands, giving her a warm smile that appeared to contain the sunshine. That makes sense. You can’t remember when it started to feel different, when you started turning into an awkward mess at the slightest bit of attention from her, and slipping into these strange daydreams. But it feels right.

“Thank you. This feels so right. It’s funny in a way, that it took a Halloween costume contest, and seeing everyone compliment you and that kind of thing...and feeling this strange feeling. I felt jealous, but not in terms of wanting to win myself. But at the same time, I ignored my feelings as I’m not enough for you. Everybody wants you so why would you like me that way? I felt scared, like my stupid feelings would cause me to lose you, if I told you the truth. You’re my best friend, well, only friend, and I didn’t want to be alone.” Marisol ducked her head again, staring into her lap, and the headband fell forward again. She left it there, not wanting to see Alecto’s face. Her heart was racing, and she hoped she hadn’t got this wrong. She was seventeen and in love with her best friend.

“Who told you that? As I’m sorry, but I don’t care about everyone else. I care about you, and even if I didn’t like you romantically, I would never leave because of feelings! You’re enough for me, of course you are. I’m not a fragile porcelain vase, I’m a human being! I don’t need protection, and I make my own decisions. This might surprise you, but you’re my only close friend. I talk to other people too, but that’s only for school reasons. And what about Iris? You two seem close.” Alecto removed the hairband from Marisol’s hair, turning her head up to face her gently. The feel of Alecto’s fingertips was electric, she felt a strange feeling deep within her.

“We’re friends, yes. But just because we chose the same set of options, and we do talk outside of school too. But I don’t feel the same way towards her, we’re definitely just friends. I spilled Starburst everywhere, I’m sorry. I just got taken over by my feelings. But the fact that you’re not going to leave me over this is a relief.” Marisol sighed with relief, letting all of that out was good. She had been feeling like she was going to explode for so long, so setting that free was good.

“The sweets don’t matter. Seriously, I can just clean them up. Besides, they’re in wrappers anyway so it could be way worse. Don’t apologise for your feelings though, as I like you too. I didn’t want to push anything on you if you weren’t comfortable or ready, so I left it.” Marisol’s eyes widen, she stares at Alecto in surprise. She’s stunned to the point of speechlessness, her mouth wide open.

“Yep, you did hear me right. I’ll give you a minute to process.”

Marisol nodded. “Want to...want to try this dating thing? To just see if we can work as more than friends. I think we might be able to.”

“If it’s what you want, then sure.”

Marisol nodded again, giving Alecto a wide grin. She usually kept her mouth closed when she smiled, to hide her braces and her teeth in general, so forgetting that was a surprise. Alecto let go of her head, hopping off the bed to retrieve the sweets from the floor, getting them successfully back in the bag again and resting it between them.

Marisol felt warm, but not in a way she could explain. Love appeared to take her over, from top to bottom. They settled into a comfortable silence, broken only by sweet wrappers. Once they had finished the bag, Alecto moved it aside and leaned back on her bed, leaning on pillows behind her. Marisol moved beside her, resting her head on Alecto’s shoulder. Having to move away from Alecto, from showing any affection towards her best friend was difficult, and she was surprised she kept it up.

“You do know that I realised something was wrong, right? When you stopped hugging me as much and had to keep a bit of distance between us. I missed the hugs so much. And you always seemed so lost in your thoughts, I wanted to help, but you kept pushing me away.” Alecto said, resting her hand on Marisol’s leg. Of course she did, she’s great at reading you. She’s amazing, and she’s your best friend, and hopefully more.

#litg marisol #litg #love island the game #litgs2 #marisol x mc #litg fanfic #fanfic #my creation #bubblelaureno #answered asks #asks

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cocoisbestgirl · 4 years

Text

Fanfic I can’t think of a name for pt 9

Lynna loved the feeling she had in the pit of her stomach. It was a mix of pure unbridled joy and fear. Her stomach twisted and turned as she looked back at her home... No. Her prison. Everything smart about her screamed for her to run back into the house, take a shower and burn the clothes. Everything else told her to run. Runaway and never look back at her old life.

In her mind freedom was more important than fine silks and gems. She couldn’t. She couldn’t leave as much as her brain and body wanted to. She had nowhere to run to. Her mother would just send a search party, and she’d be chained to a servant the rest of her, or their mothers, life. There wasn’t much of a point of running away. Not now anyway.

‘Whatever,’ She thought,’ Even if this is going to be for one night. I’m going to enjoy every second of it!’

Lynna’s legs began to quickly move, almost on their own.

‘Running. I haven’t ran in so long!’

The outside air made her squeal with delight.

‘I forgot what the night smelled like!’

Every part of it felt like a brand new experience. Everything her mother had banned her from, all of the rules were lifted from her. She was free. She had no makeup smeared on her face, no 10-pound jewelry to haul around, no dress that tripped her at every movement, and no high heels!

Lynna managed to get a good few blocks away from her home before she looked back. A building she wished never to see again, was tiny. The slums felt warm and bright, drunk people cheered from inside bars, children played, people just passed by Lynna without second thought. No sneers, or evil smirks. Just a normal night. Nobody recognized her.

“Ah, what a lovely little rose~” A man, who was not good looking in the slightest held his hand out to Lynna.

Lynna recoiled at the man and swatted his hand away, “Get away from me!”

“Excuse me, little girl!?” He grabbed her wrist and tightened his grip before lifting Lynna off of the ground.

“Let her go Iain!”

The familiar voice made Lynna shutter a bit, reminding her of her inevitably going back to her prison.

“And who do you- Ack!” The man let go of Lynna’s wrist and looked at the voice's owner, Magda…

“You better leave right now!”

“Hah!” The man scoffed, “What are you going to do, princess? Call your noble friends to come get me?”

“A dear friend of mine needs more skin products. I don’t suggest making me angry!”

“Gah!” The man soon ran off.

“Miss,” Magda held a hand out to Lynna, “Are you okay?”

“Hmph!” Lynna sneered, “I don’t need help from a girl like you!”

“Are you sure? You seemed-”

“Gah! This is why I hate you! You just think you’re so high and mighty don’t you!?”

Magda didn’t bother with the fight. She just walked away from the random civilian who looked oddly familiar. No beauty contest or anything. Lynna watched Magda walk away, waiting for the classic ‘Getting into good lighting to look better’ trick, but…..Magda just disappeared behind a corner. Lynna kept watching, and her eyes never saw Magda look back even once.

She stood up and started to walk behind Magda. Magda was clearly aware of Lynna’s presence but didn’t do anything about it. Magda just looked behind herself every so often. She didn’t seem scared in the slightest.

‘It’s reverse psychology… she’s acting like she has nothing to hide because she has something to hide!’ Lynna thought as she finally managed to find a way to stalk her pretty little target without just following behind her.

Magda breathed a sigh of relief when she saw that strange woman disappear into one of the many alleyways. That woman...looked familiar, but something just seemed off in general about her. She seemed…..personal when she said she hated Magda.

‘ It was probably just a jab at the noble status in general’ Magda convinced herself

Magda disregarded it as she finally reached the house she was looking for. She knocked a few times, and Alan opened the door.

“M-Magda! I wasn’t expecting you to actually come!”

“I’m a woman of my word..”

‘That’s what she’s hiding! She's ...with a civilian...at night! Oh, what a scandal this will be!’ Lynna paused, ‘Ah, what am I saying? They’ll never believe me… only Magda will….’ she smiled ‘Perfect’

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

“Thank you for inviting me, Alan.”

“Ah! You’re welco- welcome! I’m sure it’s not easy to sneak out at night.”

“With friends like Felicity, it’s hardly a challenge.”

“I guess that’s true. She’s like an escapist, I swear she could get out of any place if she really wanted to! Ah! I’m sorry, do you want anything to drink. I know you had a long walk!”

“Ah...no thank you, Alan. I drank before I came here. I know you brought me here for a reason, Alan.”

Alan flinched for a second.

“What do you mean?”

“Alan, I know you're not the type of….you wanted me here for a reason.”

“W-what!?” Alan was blushing like crazy, “I would never do something like that! I-I wouldn’t! That’s not right!”

Magda laughed for a second before stopping Alan.

“You’ll hurt your voice doing that!” Magda laughed, “I didn’t mean like that. I meant...well you’re not the type of person to invite anybody to your house without reason.”

“I- Well Juven told me that-”

“Alan, don’t listen to him. We all know he’s a playboy.”

“A-ah! I’m sorry Magda I didn’t mean!”

Magda interrupted Alan before he could finish.

“I did have something to ask you though.”

“W-what was it?”

“Are you the one who keeps sending me secret admirer letters?”

A few days before…..

Magda had come home from another one of her solo balls without Felicity by her side. A practice which she had more than gotten used to in the years she had been noble. Felicity had joined the mother in reading the mail, something that usually only Eliza did.

“Ma, there’s another letter with no symbol on it.”

“There’s been quite a few of those recently,” Said one of the maids as they passed by.

Eliza looked down at the pile of unknown letters that had begun to pile up. One every day… it was...strange to say the least.

“Magda, I would like you to read those letters in that pile over there.” Eliza pointed to the letters, “There’s been one every day for this whole week.”

Magda nodded her head and grabbed the letters, “Yes mother.”

Magda headed to her room only to be stopped, “Magda, stop being so formal. I’m your mother, after all, I am not your captor.”

The blonde girl could only shake her head yes as she walked up the stairs to her room.

“Felicity, my daughter. How can I get Magda to like me?”

“Maybe not acting like you’re her actual mother may work.”

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Magda opened the wax-sealed letters carefully. The inside of the letters smelled oddly familiar, it was along the lines of metal and steel. She definitely knew that smell. When she opened the letters she gasped loudly. The writing was in red…

‘That's such a bad color choice!’ she thought as she began to read the letter out loud to herself, ‘Black or blue is the only correct ink colors!’

‘Dear Magda,

The first moment I saw you at the Jorcastle ball I knew you were special. Your hair, your eyes, the way you spoke like a bird learning to fly. Even the way you walked seemed to be filled with innocence. It wasn’t only clear to me, but to others as well. Your petite form attracted some.. Interesting stares from my fellow nobles. They talked about you like some object. While I do admit you are very attractive. I can’t write for too much longer I have to be somewhere. I’ll write to you again….

From your secret admirer.’

The first letter seemed somewhat innocent, if not just a tad creepy, it wasn’t something that seemed too unusual. Some men had threatened to have noblewomen killed if they refused their advances. Magda considered herself lucky at the moment.

The letters that followed became stranger and stranger. Somewhere more innocent but the last few, or more so the last one crawled under her skin.

‘Dear Magda,

I know you haven’t been reading my letters. This upsets me sure but for you I can overcome it. I decided to leave you a little gift. I want to see you wear it tonight, or whatever night works for you. We danced at the last ball and I knew by your eyes alone it was love. The moonlight would illuminate your eyes so well. That gift? Under your bed.’

Magda’s brain told her to ignore this little letter and to not look, or at least get somebody to watch just in case something bad happened. Her body fought her mind tooth and nail, and she ended up looking anyway. It was a dress. Not ugly by any means. It was gorgeous, masterfully tailored, and it was clearly handmade.

She threw the thing on the floor and pushed it back under her bed. She paced her room for what felt like days. What was she going to do? He…. she? Managed to get into Magda’s room and hide a dress. It couldn’t be Felicity her handwriting looked extremely different from her admirers...

She smiled at Alan knowing he could at least attempt to help her situation.

“Secret...admirer? Alan questioned

“Ah!” Magda looked at the clock, “Go on and say what you need to say. We don’t have time.”

Felicity quietly snuggled into her blanket. Her mind was still stirring after helping Magda sneak out. Felicity was always the best at running away from her problems. She smiled as she thought of Shana, yet another girl who could slip her way out of any space with relative ease.

Felicity’s mind quickly switched back to Magda. What if she got caught? What would everyone think of her? Sneaking off to anybody’s, much less a citizen’s, and a male citizen at that's house during the night would be the scandal of the year. That was all Magda needed, to be a social outcast. She didn’t have the ‘Slums Girl’ excuse anymore. Everybody saw her as a true noblewoman now.

She looked over at the clock on the wall. 12:00 PM the constant ticking kept her worrying.

‘If she’s not back by one, I’m going to get her!’ Felicity promised herself as she sat up in her bed.

‘I’ll head out at 12:30. That will give me more than enough time to find Alan’s place and get her back. Thank the goddess it’s spring, she can always just fake a cold if she’s tired.’

Felicity got out of her bed and headed to her closet to get ready.

“Well, I don’t see you very much anymore…. You’re such a popular woman and everybody wants a moment with you…”

“Thank you for the compliment, Alan bu-”

“I really miss seeing you, Magda… I know it’s so selfish of me to drag you out here in the middle of the night. You could’ve been hurt, or kidnapped on the way over!” Alan started to blush yet again, “N-not that you can’t take c-care of yourself. I...I’m sorry, Magda. I put you in harm's way….yet again.”

“Alan, you never put me in harm's way. That guardsman incident happened a year ago.”

“Well, you still could’ve been hurt!”

“Well, Alan think of it like this. I wasn’t.”

“That's...you never should’ve even had the option of being hurt…”

“Alan,” Magda grabbed Alan’s hand, “Look me in the eyes, I wasn’t hurt. It wouldn’t have been your fault even if I was.”

Alan blushed as the blonde girl grabbed his hands. He felt his stomach twist and turn.

“Magda, I-” Alan brought his face closer to Magda’s, and put his hand on her cheek, “I wanted to tell you I-”

A loud bang on the door stopped the embrace, slightly annoyed Alan went to open the door.

“Hey, Alan. Magda, you have to come home now! It’s late! Oh uh...am I interrupting something?” Felicity looked behind Alan and saw Magda. Felicity sighed in relief. Nothing happened. ‘

“So...Magda, did I do something wrong? You don’t look the best..” The two Ellenstein sisters walked back to their home in the dead of night.

“Ah… it’s just… me and Alan..”

“Don’t worry, you two can get some alone time… eventually.”

“Felicity!”

“Listen, Magda, I’m really not judging you. I’m not a hypocrite.”

“Thank you felicity. You understand.”

“Yeah, I used to date this one guy. Count Revie, he’s...not a good guy Magda.”

“Ah…. is he like Juven?”

“What, no Juven’s cool. Revie is not, he’s like. Imagine Juven, right?”

“Mhmm?”

“But literally all the bad parts, mix in a bit of Lynna’s overwhelming confidence even when she knows damn well that she’s wrong, mix in the slyness of Brala, and let it marinade in Barris’s good looks and you have the perfect recipe for… well, for just the worst...

“Ah, he is your ex?”

“I..uh...I guess you can say that. I mean we were never really official. We just kinda hung out a lot and got into trouble. I mean don’t get me wrong we never did anything!”

“I’ve heard a few rumors…”

“I know I know it sounds- Wait for what?”

“Well, I talked to Miss Kelly and she let me in on some rumors about you…”

“What!? Don’t stop there what did she say!?”

“Ah… well, she said that you and Revie supposedly had a child together-”

“How does that even make sense?”

“Oh, she said the rumors were started by Lynna...so they never got too far.”

“Big surprise there. Well, nothing gets past Kelly.”

The adoptive sisters walked down the now empty streets of Finsel. Not even an hour ago they were bustling with activity. A crowd had gathered around a short girl with white hair

“The nobles have done nothing for us!” the tiny girl yelled as she stomped her foot on the box she was standing on, “I say we finally do something about it!”

A few people left the crowd as the girl said those words.

“Cowards! Every last one of you! Prove yourselves worthy of freedom!”

The people cheered as they held up their fists. The chants of the revolt kept in Magda’s head the whole night. Her body refused to stop shaking. They weren’t actually going to do anything...right? No...they wouldn’t they would fail… wouldn’t they?

The ball felt slightly off, as if the air was somehow thicker than usual you could probably cut it with a knife. Everybody seemed to be having a great time, except Magda. She had a deep void like feeling in the pit of her stomach. She danced and smiled, but no matter what she did the feeling never left her. It was almost like a ghost, or a demon watching her over her shoulder.

She spoke to all of her favorite people, Felicity, Ivan, Alan, and even Motiti, but she didn’t feel right. She didn’t feel safe.

She had more than enough protection with Alan alone. Ivan would probably take his life for Magda…

As a child, Magda had first hand seen the horrors of the slums. Children getting killed for minor offenses, robberies, and that wasn’t even a quarter of all that Magda had seen. She herself had...experience with the cruelty of the slums. Everybody was angry at everybody. All the time. She had once hated the nobles too, she hated their power, their money, everything. Now she had become what she used to hate most, and she was enjoying it while her people were suffering at the hands of the people she spoke to.

She could do something about it! She knew she could! It would take work, but she could at least try.

Magda looked around the ball for anybody of importance. She had to tell Alan what she heard. She had to! It was crucial. She may be the only one who could-

Magda felt her hand being tugged, hard into a corner of the ballroom.

“Ah, Magda I’m so glad I found you. I have a little favor to ask~” Lynna said

A/N: Sorry I was gone for a week! School sucks

#helix waltz #helixwaltz

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badgerpride96 · 4 years

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The Sun Lantern - Short Story

YES, A SHORT STORY, SHE SAID. IT WILL BE QUICK, SHE SAID. Anyway this is that short story, I had so much fun with it. @g10-gaming Sent me a post about “everyday magic” and I filed it away ages ago. I love this story, I hope it makes someone smile today :)

Nothing is ever more jolting than your alarm going off during REM sleep. I practically flew out of bed. Smacking around on my bedside table for my phone, I wondered if I could call in sick today. No way would my boss not see through that.

I sat up rubbing my eyes. My room was almost too small for one person; my bed took up most of the space, with the dresser shoved into one corner and a tiny desk in the other. I couldn’t open my door all the way because it hit the desk, but that didn’t matter as I always kept it closed. My plants floated above my head- lavender over my bed, english ivy weaving itself across the windows, jasmine blooming every day over my desk, kokedamas of succulents and ferns drifting around, all hopefully giving off serotonin and dopamine amplifiers. Supposedly helping my mental state.

My current mental state was foggy, distantly awake, and apathetic. A fairly good start. I hauled myself out of bed, snatching up my jeans and hopping into them to the door. I opened it silently in case any of either of the human girls I lived with were asleep. No one was in the living room. It was 4:30 AM, so this was expected, even of the vampire. He got home from the immunology lab at 3, and did reports and studying shut up in his room. Night shift, of course; I heard the other shift workers loved him. I went to pour some tea leaves in the kitchen, and mindlessly scooped at an empty can before remembering I’d run out yesterday.

“Fuck me,” I mumbled, doing my best not to stomp as I made my way to the bathroom instead. As I brushed my teeth, I assessed how much work I wanted to bother putting into my hair. I used to straighten it every morning, but that took so long I eventually gave up. Besides, my mama said natural black hair was beautiful anyway, and if it was good enough for Mama, it was good enough for me. My makeup sat optimistically in my drawer of the cabinet, most of it having expired untouched several months ago. I did the bare minimum; my hair was a mess of corkscrews, longer than it had ever been. I looked like a hyacinth, a smaller face surrounded by an explosion of adornment.

I washed my face and checked my watch. I had more time than usual, so stopping to get Cassie’s tea wouldn’t be a problem. I texted Daphne, my boss, asking if she wanted anything. I zipped up an old canvas jacket and locked my front door behind me.

It was a brisk April morning, alright for a run. The cold air was sharp in my lungs as I started to jog downtown. I didn’t like public transport and couldn’t afford car payments. Males of every species tended to be too...grabby in a bus or metro carriage, and besides I had no issue with running. Nymphs are known for being fast runners. I hear Apollo learned this the hard way. Idiot.

I ran through the street lit morning, the city already humming around me. I passed Merl’s Auto, with Merl himself opening his roll door. Jessie, his familiar currently presenting as a dalmation, barked happily at me as I waved to Merl.

“Alright, love?” He called to me.

“Still going!” I shouted back. Jessie leapt up and ran to the end of the block with me, I turned onto Main, heading towards the heart of downtown. The main drag was lined with huge oak trees. The dryads had petitioned to put them in to “beautify” downtown about ten years ago. As dryad decisions go, it was a fairly good one. I slowed as I neared Cassie’s, pulling out my wallet. Cassie waved at me as I approached the windows.

Cassie’s Coffee was a larger storefront. Windows wrapped around the front, exposed brick warming the inside. Everything was “natural” looking inside Cassie’s, without crossing over into the “vegan anti-vaxxer” style. Live edge tables were lit by simple elegant pendant lights, the different shots and enchantments lined the walls in glass jars, and the best coffee money could buy came in huge mugs. This morning, in the middle of the week at 5 AM, no customers were laughing in the windows. Cassie stood at the grinder, pouring in beans. The chimes above the door announced me.

“Morning, love!” She called out without turning around. “Right there on the bar for you!”

“Thanks, Cassie.” I pulled out my wallet as I approached. Two take-away teas were steaming there; one oolong, extra shot of focus and honey, and one chai with two calm and one vanilla. You could taste the magic in them. Focus tasted bittersweet, something to snap you back. Hope tasted like honey, not too sweet but enough to notice. Calm and confidence were similar, warm and spicy, but the latter with a slight tang. Both were excellent with chai. I wrinkled my nose. I hated chai, but Daphne drank it like it was going out of style. “Wow, how’d you know?”

“Oh, a joker, so original.” She wasn’t facing me but I knew the eye roll just the same. The scorn of a seer over a joke, I tell you.

I was about to remind her that I had to pay when the swinging door to the back room opened and suddenly my lungs forgot how to breathe properly. A girl walked into the room, the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen. She was perfectly proportioned, like a sculptor had agonized over the exact full curves of her hips for weeks. Her hair, shining silvery white, was pinned in an elegant low ponytail swishing past her hips. Carrying a box, she walked to the other end of the bar, away from me. Her hair pin caught my eye; it seemed to glow, emitting its own light. It even flickered. There was something unmistakably magical about her, but not any magic I knew of. It was mysterious. It felt like seeing a fantastical painting scene, where it seems unreachable tranquil and mystical. She was-

“Right that’s 5. 32,” Cassie said, tossing the empty coffee sack aside.

“I...what?”

“Money, sweetheart. For the tea?”

“Tea! Right!” I was sweating bullets. The girl turned to look at me and smiled. Fuck. I handed Cassie her $6.00-with-tip-total and booked it out the door.

“I am a disaster,” I muttered to myself as I walked as fast as I physically could to Daphne’s, angrily sipping my tea. This did nothing to assuage my annoyance, but it did distract me by searing the shit out of the roof of my mouth. I turned the corner onto Garden, trying to salvage the morning. At least the focus shot was already starting to work.

Daphne’s Flowers was a hole-in-the-wall shop, literally. When the city was established and a town center founded, buildings were far apart so as to allow for carriages to deliver between them. Some were filled in, especially those along the riverfront. But about 25 years ago, a water main burst between the two, severely damaging one building and destroying the decaying courtyard between the two. Daphne offered to buy the land between for her flower shop, had the concrete removed and began restoring the underlying soil. Now, it looked as I saw it; a Dutch door at the entrance, latices of vines creating a living building, and a soft glow breaching through the leaves. The vines could be opened up if it was warm, or if it was raining lightly. Behind the door lay a calm, lush oasis of Daphne’s wonderful imagination.

Daphne had known me since I was born. She’d been a friend of my mother’s since childhood, and Mama had worked for her since my father had left. Daphne offered me a job and her when I showed a proficiency for magical and ornate flowers. Daphne was a nymph, just like my mother and I. She had general plant and flower manipulation, whereas I, an anthsousia, specialized in flowers. When I was old enough, Daphne developed a wedding wing of her business, which I worked almost exclusively in now due to my talents with the fancier flora.

Today, as I worked the gate open while balancing the cups, Daphne was starting on the local orders of the day. She was wearing her usual uniform of a t-shirt and overalls. Her long black hair was in a braid, streaks of grey weaving almost to her waist. She smiled at me, barely a line in that beautiful face. She stood as I came in.

“Good mornin, hon,” she said, wiping her hands on a rag and accepting her tea, “Oh, how lovely.”

“Morning,” I said, going around the counter to find my apron.

“How’re you doin today?”

“Alright.” I shrugged.

She looked at me for a moment longer than was necessary, as though she might debate this. She was older than my Mama was and yet neither of them ever seemed to have a discernible age. They had just seemed to be. It had been just the three of us, running the shop; three magical black ladies, sipping tea and growing plants.

“Okay then,” Daphne said, in a tone that said she didn’t believe me but wouldn’t admit it. She patted my cheek. “Lots to do.”

I grabbed my orders clipboard, cracked my knuckles, and plunged my hands into the soil.

It rained the whole month Mama was sick, but it was sunny the day she died. It seemed, at the time, to be so unjust as to be criminal. Who could have seen this woman and give her nothing but clouds as she slipped away, never to see sunlight again? It was two years ago, nearly to the day, but I remember vividly the anger I felt at seeing the sun. I’m sure Apollo heard my grief that day. I’m sure every god, regardless of region or religion, was blamed for taking my mother back. I would like to tell you that I let go of that anger, that I had a fairy tale story of rebirth and growing stronger. But instead the anger faded, and nothing replaced it. Nothing at all. It was like I was the one buried in soil, like my plants; aware of the world above, wishing to join, but not strong enough to break through. It was at least a month before I could even grow a daisy.

Now, my magic was full again, and as it was all I had, I put my whole life into these flowers. I grew them slowly, each getting its own care and time. Nymphs can’t grow a whole shop’s inventory on the spot. Well, we could, but the drain on our power and energy would cause any normal nymph to lose consciousness. We grew our flowers little by little. For large orders, we carved out days. For others, like daily deliveries, we could do it in an hour. Sun lanterns, bluebells with soft chimes, and the roses with built in charm enhancements were the biggest magical sellers, my personal favorite flowers being sun lanterns. Vibrant yellow pods, they were essentially immortal. Like Lazurus plants with water, they would remain dormant and shriveled until placed in sunlight for an hour or so; then, they would uncurl and float up in the air, illuminating a room for up to about a day. Natural solar lanterns.

We had all sorts of succulents, flowers, ground cover, and shrubs. We delivered to local businesses and events, especially weddings. These could be an all day affair, when I stayed at the venue to constantly maintain the freshness of the blooms. It drained me, but I got to keep all the tips and Daphne always gave me one or two days off after. Today, we had a delivery to two hotels and two cafes. As I scanned my clipboard, I noticed Cassie’s was the last stop. From under the soil, I felt a little sun break through as I considered that girl would be there. I immediately shook myself. I was being dense. I was just curious; she certainly wasn’t human, but she wasn’t any kind of magic I knew.

In thinking about this, one of the lilies for the first hotel came out slightly pink rather than white. I quickly fixed it, the annoyed feeling from earlier starting to seep in. I was getting distracted and I never wanted to mess up an order due to just being distracted. I got all the lilies cut, added the appropriate greenery we kept handy, wrapped up the package and left for the hotel. I managed to put the girl out of my head until I’d delivered the second to last order and headed back to Daphne’s to get Cassie’s flowers. Her order was easy: six bunches of Santa Barbara Daisies, some filler, and some spray roses. Except for the sprays, we had them all on hand. And the sprays were so easy Daphne did them while I was gone. I quickly wrapped them up, thinking about the girl’s hair clip. The way it glowed was impossibly delicate, and the golden light seemed to contrast her hair beautif-

“What’s the smile for?” Daphne asked, cutting some roses for display.

“What? Nothing. Nice day.” I took off out the door before she could accuse me of another blatant mistruth, nearly smacking into the doorframe in my haste.

I arrived at Cassie’s right on time at 8am. I slid the carrier off my back, taking out the packages of flowers and setting them on the counter. I looked around the cafe, casually. Or almost casually. I leaned on the high counter lining the pickup bar, hoping and not hoping that I could get out of here quick.

“Can I help you?”

I jumped and spun around to the bar. Unfortunately, given spatial relations and Murphy’s law, my hip jammed itself directly into the corner of the bar. I yelped and clutched my hip. “Fuck!”

“Oh my god! Are you alright?” I looked up through squinted eyes and almost swore again. Of course it would be her.

“Uh, oh, yeah, just fine.” I stood slowly and leaned on the bar again, a little more heavily this time. “I’m just delivering the flowers.”

She stared at me for a second, then realized the packages were in front of her. “Oh! They’re lovely!” She had a nice voice. European, maybe Spanish?

“Oh excellent” Cassie emerged from the back room, carrying a stack of boxes. The top one began to slip, and the girl ran over and took it from her. “Ah, thank you Llana dear.”

Llana.

I realized I was staring. I busied myself unwrapping the flowers, and signing the invoice. Cassie winked at me; I was sure she knew why I was so nervous. I coughed a goodbye and somewhat limped my way out the door.

Her name was Llana.

This routine happened every day for a week. I can’t say I was feeling any more positive, but at least my hip didn’t suffer anymore. I was absolutely terrified to say anything more than “Morning” to Llana. But at least I had something nice to think about.

One morning, I woke up with my alarm but laid there for a few minutes. The morning was very quiet, with sounds of a barely stirring city. For some reason, it was a little easier to get up that day, it was easier to look in the mirror, it was easier to run. It was easier to look in the mirror, and the shop windows blurring past, and see Mama’s face in my reflection. And it was easier to walk into Cassie’s and say,

“Good morning.”

“Good morning,” Llana replied, handing me the teas Cassie had already made. “I’m glad it’s a good one today.” I knitted my eyebrows. “You usually just say ‘morning.’ Today you said good morning.”

I opened my mouth, but my brain hadn’t decided what was going to come out. It was too slow, apparently, because instead of “thank you” or “You’re the most beautiful being I’ve ever seen upon this hellscape of an earth,” what I said was “You too!”

We stared at each other for a moment as the steam rose from the tea in my hands, and my brain finally caught up. When it did, it suddenly decided, wow, this is the worst thing you’ve pretty much ever done. I decided the best course of action was to spin around, nearly slinging tea all over myself, and leave IMMEDIATELY.

“You too?!” I berated myself as I strode with rage down the street. “What the fuck.” I was irrationally angry, and I know it wasn’t really about “You too.” It had been such a good morning. All I’d had to do was go with it and be a functioning human.

Daphne looked up as I stomped in. I practically threw her tea to her and slammed mine on the desk. She leapt up and grabbed my shoulders. “Oh no, we are taking this bad energy OUT.” She pushed me back out the door and onto the promenade. “What is up with you, girl? You’re spacey, then I can barely get you to talk to me, then you’re happy for a hot second before you come blazin in here with the fury of a thousand suns. Now, I don’t care if I make every order and customer we have today late, you are gonna tell me what the hell is going on.” She folded her arms, and stood as though I was going to charge her.

I glared at her, my hands shoved deep in my pockets and screwing up my mouth. I didn’t want to admit that I was angry over something so stupid, even though I knew it wasn’t just that. I didn’t want to say that I felt like I’d messed up a good day. I didn’t want to say that I’d messed up the last year of my life. I didn’t want to talk about stuff that hurt. But Daphne glared right back.

“I like this girl who works at Cassie’s, okay? And I fucked up talking to her this morning. And I hate waking up and thinking its going to be a good day and then I fuck it up. And I feel like I can’t do anything right and I’m always on autopilot, and I was to actually choose how something goes but I guess fucking not and I just wish I had-” I stopped. My throat tightened. Daphne had one hand on her cheek, her eyes gently gazing at me. “I wish I had Mama,” I choked out. I squeezed my eyes shut and shoved the heels of my hands against them.

“Oh honey.” I felt Daphne wrap her arms around me. “Oh honey.”

Do you ever think you can hold it together as long as someone else doesn’t actually show you any emotion back? Like if they just stand there silently, you can pull it back and be fine and not completely dissolve? The moment Daphne got hold of me, I burst into tears. I cried for a few minutes. It felt good. It felt like I was opening the tattered box in the attic of my mind and letting the bad stuff out for a walk. Daphne rubbed my back. She didn’t say anything else, just let me cry.

I finally caught my breath and pulled away. “Jesus. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.” I hiccuped a few times.

“Why are you apologizing?” Daphne asked. “It’s okay to cry, and it’s okay to feel, especially if you’re angry. But I can’t tell if you’re more afraid of crying or of feeling, girl.”

In the back of my internet brain, I knew that was a Quotable Moment™. I often wondered if Daphne had some seer in her, Like Cassie. But in any case, I took a deep breath, and followed her back inside.

Usually, after work, I get home around 5. I go water my plants, toss a meal into the microwave, and slump on the couch with a hyperfixational book or show. Maybe some grocery shopping or stopping in for a drink somewhere. After Mama died, I stopped seeing friends and going to parties. I think they were relieved, honestly. How do you invite the girl whose mother just died to anything fun? With sudden free time and almost no relationships outside of Daphne and Cassie, I went dark. I packed up the house, packed all Mama’s stuff in boxes, sold the furniture and moved away. Mama was the nymph in the family, my dad was human. His family was some rich snobby family who refused to acknowledge the “stain on the family name,” or so they said in their letter back from the funeral announcement. No support from them, then. Daphne let me keep my job and paid me more, now that there were only two of us. I found my apartment, but it’s just one room that’s mine. So I put what I had of Mama into storage, shoving all my memories into that attic.

But tonight, after I got home from work, I didn’t sit down or water my plants. I paced for a while, holding my phone in one hand and tapping the other against my leg. I don’t know whether you’re more afraid of crying or of feeling, I heard over and over again. I flipped my phone over a few times, staring out the window. Yeah. Okay. I took a long breath.

I called the storage company, and then an Uber. I grabbed a jacket, brushed dirt off my jeans, and jumped into the backseat of my White Corolla ride. The nice diver, about my age, was a human girl. She was very chatty, playing the local pop station. I tipped her as much as I could and walked very quickly to my container.

I hadn’t had much to store. They gave me a small one, more like a shed, near the front. It was cheap, as units go, so they told me. I flipped through my keys for the one to the padlock, the wind starting to kick up, whipping the dust off the gravel. I fumbled with the lock for a few minutes before suddenly realizing I was trying to use my apartment key. After a moment of reflection, I managed to get in. I was strangely nervous, as though I was meeting someone else’s mother.

I looked around. It was mostly her clothes and jewellery packed in vacuum bags (As Seen on TV!) and wrapped in fabric. My mama had this love of bangles; one whole box was dedicated to them. I never wore any, they were too hard to keep on, but Mama wore four on each arm, all the same set. She’d loved t-shirts, too. Every concert, every school either of us went to, she would get a new one. I opened the box on top. It was filled with vacuum bags - sweaters. I dug through boxes until I found the packs I was looking for; her oldest, favorite shirts, older than me, so long in her closet she’d forgotten where she’d gotten them. A black long sleeve with glittery thread woven throughout. An a bright yellow halter with a daisy pattern. A faded baseball tee with dark green edging. And the one I loved most, a green t-shirt with a velvet star in the center of the chest, about the size of my hand. I held it for a moment, then grabbed the whole bag and shoved it in my knapsack. I closed the box back up and looked at the shelves.

Up to there were plastic containers of cards and pictures. I reached up, barely able to slide them off with my fingertips. One held all the cards I’d gotten from her and vice versa over the years. The other held all the photo albums and loose pictures from frames. As I reached for it, I saw the picture pressed against the edge.

It was of Mama and I, taken with Daphne’s old film camera. We’re laughing, arms around each other, and Mama is wearing her star shirt. It was my 18th birthday, right before I went to college. I don’t know what made us laugh or what was happening, but it was Mama through and through.

For a moment, I hesitated. I could put it back, put it all back. I could lock up and go home and go to sleep, forget and just ignore. Ignoring was better than remembering, right?

“I don’t know whether you’re more afraid of crying or of feeling, girl.”

I locked up and called another rideshare. A large car this time, enough for a few boxes and a large backpack, and my decisions.

The next day, I dragged myself to work. I hadn’t slept at all. My hair was untenable, my eyes were puffy. But underneath my jacket, I had on that baseball tee. I changed my phone screen to that picture. Baby steps, I told myself. And baby steps felt okay.

I stopped at Cassie’s. Cassie herself wasn’t there, just Llana. She looked up as I came in. She raised an eyebrow in askance.

“Good morning,” I answered.

She smiled. “Good morning. The usual?”

“Yes please.”

That was all. And that felt okay too.

I walked to the flower shop, where Daphne had the heater on. I took off my jacket, and called to the back to let Daphne know I was there. I tucked my shirt into my jeans and reached for my apron. There was a small gasp from behind me.

Daphne stood in front of the office door, her eyes the size of dinner plates. She blinked a few times, and gave a shaky laugh. “My lord, girl, you look just like your mama.”

“I know,” I said, giving her an equally unsteady smile. I told her about going to the storage room as we started work. I told her how I’d gone home and the vampire roommate had helped me carry my boxes up the stairs, and offered to make me some coffee. I told her how I’d actually made myself a real drink and after politely thanking him but refusing, and looked through everything I’d brought home. I showed her the picture on my phone and told her I saved some cards. Daphne was smiling so big I was afraid she was stuck.

“This doesn’t mean I’m like, magically better, you know.” I warned her. “It’s a step, and there’s a whole mile of steps ahead of me.”

“Oh, I know,” she said, still grinning like a cat. “But you took a step, and that’s big, hon.”

I nodded, and we moved on.

The next week or so passed, and nothing changed. I didn’t go back to the storage room, but I made sure to bring out the things I’d already gotten. I put up the pictures on my wall, and the albums on my bookshelf. The shirts went in my dresser. I looked at one card every day; I was a Valentine’s Day one. Mama and I had our own tradition. We would get each other coffee and a bag of mystery chocolates, then come home and watch bad romcoms and eat it all. Mama had written in the card, “There is a lot to love in this beautiful world, but you are the most beautiful, and the most loved. I love you big, Mama.” Love you big was our thing. It was on every card, every night before bed, before every hangup. I looked at this card every day, and I started to get an idea.

In the meantime, I started talking to Llana more. She was from Spain, and she was, in fact, not human. She avoided the specifics, though, and I didn’t push it. She, in turn, asked more about me, always gauging a Morning from a Good Morning first. On the Mornings, I like to think my tea tasted just a little sweeter than normal. Not too much, but noticeable. But maybe it was psychosomatic. In any case, she always smiled at me through the window and I always nearly collided with something in front of me. I nearly dropped my cup when she laughed at a bad joke I made. Her hair clip, beautifully shining, bathed her face in a warm glow. I began to notice that even when the lights in the coffee shop were dim, and the sky was dark and cloudy, it still glowed and shimmered. It was too bright to be reflecting anything.

The next week, I went back to the storage room. I got some of Mama’s sweaters, and her old books. Curled up in an enormous sherpa jacket at home, I read through as many mythology books as I could. Nothing in any of them mentioned anything like Llana. I did steer clear of Greek though. I knew all about that anyway.

The weather, while in springtime, suddenly took a chill. I found myself wearing the sherpa to work one morning, over the lucky star shirt. I had been up most of the night, turning over the same idea from a week or two ago. I’d been putting the pieces together.

I got to Cassie’s as usual, and Llana smiled as I came in. “Good morning,” I said.

“Good morning! The usual?”

“Actually,” I said, “could I get an extra shot of courage in mine?”

“Courage?” She asked, measuring tea leaves. “Sure, what for?” She slapped a hand to her mouth. “Shit, sorry, that’s inappropriate to ask.”

“No, it’s okay,” I mumbled into my collar. “I’m taking a baby step today, but it’s actually maybe a big step? Like, it’s a good thing, but...but I gotta make sure I can get myself there, y’know?”

Llana gazed at me for a moment, then nodded. “Alright, one Oolong with a shot of focus and a shot of courage, and one chai with a shot of calm.” She dropped in the strainers and turned back to me. She leaned on the counter, and her fingers kept touching her thumb in a pattern. Nervous habit. “So,” she said, “Cassie says you’re a nymph. So you have a specialty?”

“Yeah, I’m an anthousia. Specifically flowers. That’s why I work at Daphne’s.”

“I would love to do that.” She sighed.

I smiled at her, glancing around. “What’s your favorite flower? Magic or not?”

“Hmmm. What’s that golden one? It floats, kind of looks like a bell? It’s magical, obviously.”

I almost choked on my own spit. “Sun Lanterns?”

Her face lit up. “Yes!”

I shook my head a little at the odds, then held up my hand, palm up. A sun lantern seemed to grow from my skin, twisting into being from the light around me. Llana watched with huge eyes as the little flower rose up to her eye line. I smiled at her astounded expression. She looked like she might take a step back when I held it out to her.

“Really?” She asked quietly. I nodded. She tentatively reached out across the counter and the sun lantern floated into her hand. She held it close to her face, letting out a small laugh. She sounded thrilled.

“Here.” I reached out, and touched the bloom, closing my eyes. “There, now it’ll dooooo…..that.” The lantern had floated up to rest just behind her ear, as though it were pinned in her hair.

“No way!”She ran to the other side of the bar, the length of the room. The sun lantern whizzed along with her, keeping its place. She laughed again. God, I could listen to that sound till the end of days. She looked so happy, I could feel her enthusiasm reflected in me, , and I began to feel lighter, like I would really be fully-

What, had she said something? “Ah, what?”

“I said, I think your teas are done,” she said, pointing to them on the bar.

“Oh, right.” I shook myself. Grabbing the cups, I went to leave, but suddenly, just at the door, I turned back. Llana was holding the sun lantern in her hands again, gazing at it with something like...well, a really good something.

“Hey Llana?” I asked before my brain engaged. She looked up, her face lit equally by the sun lantern and her clip. “Do you want to meet me for a drink tonight? Or a bite to eat?” I was grateful that I managed to ask with a surprising amount of composure, though admittedly at an octave higher than normal.

She didn’t move for a moment. I began to panic. But then, the most amazing thing happened.

She burst into a smile as though she was made of sunshine. She looked as though she’d been given a drink of water after a drought, finally free of uncertainty.

“Yes, oh my god I would love-” She stopped short and coughed. “I mean, yes, I’d like that. Does 6:00 work okay?”

“6 is just fine. Meet you here?” 6pm had never seemed like a better time of day.

“Okay.” She raised her hand in a wave. I gestured with a cup, backing into the door a bit too hard. Half winded, I made my way to Daphne’s in a daze.

Daphne told me the order for the day as I came in, which I barely retained. I concentrated on all the flowers (we had a wedding tomorrow, but we were dropping them off tonight, mercifully) a concoction of lilies, baby’s breath, and forget-me-nots. The bride had been very gracious and accommodating, but the mother was a nightmare. She was adamant that there be ABSOLUTELY NO MAGIC in her baby’s flowers. Some humans were wary of anything magical. A few thought magic was “dirty,” some just didn’t want to pay for the extra labor. The majority of the sticklers just wanted “normal” flowers because it was more....familiar, I guess? These humans were always very courteous and nice. This Mother of the Bride was not one of these humans. Luckily Daphne had a very thorough contract.

I took my time. All these flowers were very delicate, and took a lot of care to get just right. It was easy to overgrow them. You could shoot right past “tomorrow is peak bloom” and straight into “honey the flowers are made of fruit flies” if you weren’t very careful. Daphne made calls all day in the office. We were hitting peak wedding planning season for the end of summer through fall. She was constantly on the phone with brides, planners, and venues. I was set to deliver the flowers at four, and head home from there.

We took lunch at 11:00, and as we ate in silence I turned my question over in my mind. I could feel myself overthinking how to ask it, so when Daphne finished her salad and leaned back in her chair, I just blurted it out.

“I’m going to get a tattoo.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “A tattoo?”

I jerkily nodded.

“What happened to baby steps?”

“Honestly, this feels like a baby step. Well, maybe a little bigger than a baby step, but not a real big one. It feels...good. Natural.” I rubbed my palm with a thumb.

Daphne laced her fingers over her stomach and tilted her face to the ceiling. She was quiet. I picked at the last of my lunch. I told myself she would be the best judge of my actions, and tried to wait patiently.

After the longest 30 seconds of recent history, she finally looked back at me. “Well, it seems like a big step to me, but I’m not you. If you think it’s right, and you’re sure, then it’s right.”

I let out my breath. “Thanks, Daphne.”

“At least you’re sensible. Unlike this client! Lilies?! Half her daughter’s guests will be sneezing their eyes out! And no magic? The day before?!” She shook her head. “When you get married, girl, you better keep a sane head on your shoulders.”

“Alright, who’s taking big steps now?”

I stepped into the Cat’s Cradle, the nearest magical tattoo shop. The walls were covered in pictures of their art and clients. A cat trotted out from behind a desk, meowing assertively.

“Cleo!” A woman called, running out from a closet at the back. She was small, but her muscle tone when she picked up the cat indicated she was deceptively strong. She had a young, confident face framed by a beautifully simple hijab. “Sorry, she got out of the office.”

“It’s okay.” I held out a hand for Cleo to inspect. She gave me a sniff and a small lick

“My name is Soñia,” the woman said, depositing Cleo behind the front desk and firing up the computer. “Cleo’s a comfort cat, she helps calm our clients. Walk in or appointment?”

“Um, walk in.”

“Alright, we could fit you in in about half an hour, around 4:45. Do you need to look at a design binder?” Her tone was brisk, but not impolite.

“Actually do you guys do handwriting?”

She frowned a little. “We can do both magical and non-magical handwriting, but I have to warn you that we cannot guarantee that there will be a perfectly identical match-

“How close can you get?” I cut in.

Her frown disappeared. “Damn close.”

“Good enough for me.” I pulled out the Valentines card, pointing at the line. “How about this, magically?”

Soñia waved her hand and made a pfft noise. “Simple. The same size as the card?” I nodded. “It will take an hour, possibly an hour and fifteen for the magical freeze to set. We freeze the magic so that your skin can heal. It will activate in a day or two.”

I confirmed I’d be back in half an hour and went to get a snack. It was overcast out, but it wasn’t supposed to rain until tomorrow. I sat on a bench, eating my power bar, contemplating. What a day. I did not have these kinds of days. These kinds of days happened to other people.

“Stop it.” I said to myself. “It’s just a day. Let yourself have a day.”

I got back to Cat’s Cradle at 4:45 on the dot. Soñia was rolling up a prayer mat. “Perfect timing,” she said, leaning the mat against a corner and rubbing her hands together. She picked up a stencil that was somewhat glowing. “Shall we?”

I’ll spare the details, as I didn’t watch most of it. I’ve never been a huge fan of needles, so I focused on petting Cleo. An hour and nine minutes later, I was bandaged up, part of the inside of my forearm unsettlingly numb. We’d taken an old style Polaroid of it, and I paid Soñia (with a hefty tip, because her confidence had paid off).

“It’s beautiful handwriting,” she said, printing my receipt.

“Yes,” I said, half smiling, “It was my mother’s.”

Soñia nodded, handed me my receipt, and I left. My arm around the numb part ached, but the bandage was lighter than I had thought. I still had maybe 40 minutes to get home and ready. For my date. With Llana. I almost laughed. “Wow,” I said, as I broke into a jog, “Wow.”

We met casually outside Cassie’s at about 7:01 and 29 seconds (vaguely). Llana had a pretty red peacoat on, and dark jeans and sneakers. My heart seemed to expand when I saw the sun lantern I suddenly felt underdressed somehow, even though Mama’s sparkly long sleeve and high waist green corduroys were perfectly matching the look. A confident, cool outfit. I was desperately hoping it worked.

We went to a small bistro down the street. Luck was with us, and we were shown to a table in front of the window. Our server was a nice guy, took our coffee and tea orders and bustled off.

“So,” I said as the espresso machine blasted, “How long have you worked at Cassie’s?”

“About 3 months ago. I started with closing shifts, but I’m more of a morning person, She drank some of her water, looking at me closely over the rim. I noticed her hair clip was silver now, still strongly lit. “I like it here. This city is so…” she gestured widely, “Open? That’s not right. I can breathe here.”

“I know what you mean.” I glanced down at the table, tracing the line of the napkin with my finger. “It seems like it’s built to be comforting.”

“Yes!” She pointed at me. “Precisely. I used to live in New York, in Manhattan. If you breathe there, you get like 5 years of second-hand smoke and carbon emissions.” I laughed. “Are you from here?”

I nodded. “Yeah, born and raised. My mama was from LA, but I’ve been here my whole life. Daphne and my mom were old friends, so she gave me a job. Besides, growing flowers is easy for an anthousia.”

“Is that what you want to do?” Llana said this in a way that seemed touchingly interested, not concerned or condescending.

I thought for a moment. “You know, I don't really know. I went to school for web design, but I haven’t taken it anywhere since-” Don’t drop the dead-mother bombshell on the first date - “since I graduated. But working at Daphne’s is peaceful, and it pays well.”

“Web design is complicated, yes? Computer code and all that?”

“It is. It’s absolutely maddening. But when you get it to work and look just right…” I shrugged. “So satisfying.”

She leaned her chin on the heel of her hand, drumming her fingertips on her cheek. “I never went to college. What is it like?”

For the next half hour I explained everything: semester versus quarter systems, dorm life, majors and minors, all of it. I told her I shared a room with three other girls and she wrinkled her nose. “That sounds so cramped!”

“It was, but we all got along, more or less. Can I ask why you didn’t go?”

She waved her other hand dismissively. “Oh, the village school would never have given us college as an option. We were in the middle of nowhere, many families had been there since before Isabella and Ferdinand. We made our living off the land. And my family in particular wanted nothing to do with the outside world.”

“Village? Not New York?”

“I grew up in Spain, the region of Asturias . I probably should have said that,” she said, rubbing her neck. “Sorry. I’m kind of nervous.”

“Don’t worry; me too.” I smiled and held out my hand. She smiled back and tentatively took it. Her hand was warm. “You don’t have to go into it, if you don’t want to.”

“Thank you.” She breathed out audibly, as though she had been holding her breath. Her hair clip seemed to get brighter. “What were you thinking of ordering?”

“Hmmm,” I hummed, casually glancing over the menu as though my stomach wasn’t eating itself.

I found I liked to learn things about her. I liked her explaining something while showing parts of herself. I learned she held her coffee cup (by the handle, not the body) in one hand while gesticulating with the other. I learned she liked bacon in her potato soup, and that she treated waitstaff with the utmost respect when she said thank you at least three times. I learned she loved portraiture, because her eyes crinkled from her slight smile when she talked about it.

The whole evening was nice. She asked if we could split the bill, and that was perfect to me. We paid and she finished her water and we got up to leave.

“I can walk you home if you like,” I said as we stood outside and she buttoned her coat.

She smiled. “I would like.” Her eyebrows knit together for a moment. “I’m trying to think of a smooth way to ask to hold your and again.”

Oh my god. “It’s all yours,” I said, offering it. She grinned so big I wanted to laugh.

She lived just outside downtown, on the opposite end from me. We walked for about 5 minutes, looking into shops on our way. As we turned left off of the big street, I finally had the nerve to say, “Your hair clip is really beautiful.”

“Mmm,” she said. She was quiet for a minute. I was on the verge of apologising for bringing it up when she sighed. “Thank you. I don’t mean to be rude. I suppose you ought to know.”

Now my eyebrows were the ones knitting. “Know what?”

“Well, I don’t usually tell people what kind of being I am, because there are a lot of people who...who would rather we didn’t exist at all. People who listen to rumors with their eyes closed.” Her eyes were fixed on the sidewalk.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m a Xanas.” She said this as though flinging the word from around a barricade.

I blinked. “I...I don’t know what a Xanas is.”

Llana jerked her face up to look at me. “Really?” I shook my head. Relief flooded her face. “A Xanas is Asturian magic. We’re all women, all blonde, and we manipulate fortune. There are ugly stories of us throughout the ages. Switching human babies with our own changelings, stealing money, seducing men to their deaths, killing human women in our way. In Spain, we are persecuted. My village is one of the only safe places left. We are deeply tied to the land, so many of us will never leave. But all we do is manipulate luck and fortune, and make things beautiful: art, nature, ourselves.”

I turned this information over in my mind. I knew that story, my father’s actions had told it to me a thousand times. I squeezed Llana’s hand. “I don’t put much stock in rumors, and my eyes are wide open. Besides, stealing a child? In this economy?” She laughed, and I was proud. “But what about the hair clip?”

“Oh, right. All Xanas have them. They’re made of sunlight and moonlight.”

“Can I?”

She tilted her head. I waved my hand, my fingers passing through the beams. They danced and flickered against my skin. “Incredible,” I whispered.

“Thank you,” she whispered back.

We’d made it to her street, and arrived at her house. It was a small brick townhouse, with red stairs, a small porch, and a white door. I must have looked surprised, because Llana grinned mischievously at me. “A Xanas does have a way of running into good fortune. An eccentric aunt of mine left Spain when I was ten. She owned this house, and passed away right before I turned 18. She left it to me in her will. We were always close. It’s why I moved here.”

“Damn,” I said. “I’ve just got an apartment!”

We looked at each other for a moment. “It was really lovely,” she said as I blurted out, “I had a great time.” We laughed nervously, and she squeezed my hand.

“Can we do this again?” She asked.

“I’d love that.” I’d almost never wanted anything more.

“Tomorrow! Here. I’ll cook.”

I was smiling so hard my face was sore. “Tomorrow is perfect.”

She ran up the stairs with a sudden burst of nervous energy, and I turned and walked back towards downtown, and home. But just as I reached the end of the block, I heard footsteps behind me. I turned to see Llana running up, skidding to atop in front of me.

“One more thing,” she said breathlessly, and suddenly we were kissing, and everything was alright. Everything was cool and calm, and for one moment, I forgot everything in the world except this. Except Llana. And when we broke apart, and everything began again, I found it was brighter, and more valuable, just for having Llana in it.

Nothing is ever more jolting than your alarm going off during REM sleep. I would’ve flown upright, had my arm not been securely trapped under a sleeping girl. I gazed at her sleepily for a minute, soaking in her light.

It had been two years since that kiss. I still worked for Daphne (hence the alarm), but with her and Llana’s help I had also secured an internship as a local web design company. Llana was taking fine arts classes at a studio. We were busy and exhausted. We were so happy.

I carefully shifted Llana off my arm, grabbing a sweater as I eased the door open. I’d moved in with Llana six months ago, and now I boiled my tea in a decent kitchen and drank it in front of beautiful windows. I’d had the picture of Mama and I framed, and it sat on the end table of the couch. Llana loved that picture. I’d told her about Mama on our second date, and about how I was (not) coping. Llana asked gentle questions, and held my hand. And when I went to the burial plot on Mama’s birthday, I found bright yellow flowers and a note - “To Delphi, from Llana. Thank you.” I cried my heart out for an hour.

Now I leaned against the window frame, whispering to the picture. “I know you’re watching, Mama. You love her, I hope. Maybe you do, somewhere, where you are. I hope you’re proud.” I paused, thinking of the little box hidden in my sock drawer. “It’s two years, today. I got it all worked out. Simple, though, I’m not overthinking. Daphne keeps teasing me about baby steps.” I looked at my face, happy in a black past, and now. “I miss you, Mama. I love you big.”

I looked quickly down at my tattoo, Mama’s scrawl appeared, writing out, “I love you big, Mama,” the ‘big’ underlined for just a moment. It only happened once in a while. Soñia had explained to me that sometimes, a person’s magic can influence a tattoo of them. I smiled, Mama heard me, somewhere, and she was happy.

I heard shuffling behind me. Llana came out of our room, clutching her favorite blanket around her. Her hair was a mess, but as the early morning light fell on it, it began to straighten and unknot. She was so beautiful in the early, foggy light. Any light.

“Hey, you,” I said, holding out my arms. Llana shuffled into them, snuggling against my shoulder. “Good morning.”

She smiled up at me, eyes half closed, and my stomach swooped. I thought again of that little box, and the ring inside, and was more decided than ever. I wanted to get coffee after work with her every afternoon and hear about her class. I wanted to make her breakfast and dinner, and sun lanterns every day. I wanted to wake up every morning for the rest of my life to hear her say;

“Good morning, Joy.”

Buy me a coffee at https://ko-fi.com/badgerpride

-–

For more Content, check out @contentcreatorshaven or www.contentcreatorshaven.com! We are a creator collective dedicated to helping each other make it in this very crazy world.

#writing #short story #badger scribbles #i swear when i had this idea it was short #I'm so tired plz help #magic

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amyvictoriali · 5 years

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Hey beautiful reader!

As an impending shelf exam for my 3rd year medical student surgery rotation draws near, I of course decided to procrastinate.

Some of you may remember I once had a blog named sweetskindreams with my own URL/domain and everything. Well, it was incurring an annual fee and I honestly wasn’t blogging regularly enough to make that worth the money. I also wanted my blog to expand to a lifestyle blog, where it’s not just regarding skincare but also discusses makeup, fashion finds, food, med school woes, relationship updates, etc. As for the decision to opt Tumblr yet again (rather than the more formal Wordpress) - it is because most of my closest friends (cough people who will actually read this cough) are already on Tumblr and can easily be updated via a follow, whereas a formal blog requires a mailing subscription and the idea of my blog posts being e-mailed out to folks seems a bit extra. For how casual I’m treating all of this anyways.

Intro aside, I wanted to kick off this new lifestyle blog with my recent Spring/Summer 2019 beauty hits and misses. Hopefully this will save you some money if you’ve been eyeing any of these products because there are definitely options I would avoid.

Let’s start with the MISSES:

- Touch in Sol No Problem Primer, $18: this was gifted by my roomie, so I really wanted to love it, but I gave it a miss because it still doesn’t beat Benefit’s Pore-fessional (quite frankly, nothing has) for pore minimization purposes and it doesn’t really act well as a primer either. Doesn’t ease foundation application nor prolong anything. It feels silky and nice to apply but I can’t perceive any useful benefits.

- Too Faced Cooling Matte Pore Perfecting Primer, $34: people need to stop labeling things as “pore minimizing” or “pore perfecting” when they do absolutely nothing for the pores. Similar to Touch in Sol, this primer didn’t do anything special to prime the skin or cover up pores. It does feel cooling, and SMELLS AMAZING like much of Too Faced’s products do (a sweet fig scent), but those are secondary perks that don’t mean anything if the primary function is lacking. I also didn’t enjoy the application, which was hard to spread over the skin and knotted up easily. Hard pass.

- Fresh Rose Deep Hydration Facial Toner, $45: it pains me to put this in the ‘pass’ category but I do so because the effects are not worth the price. Rose petals in the toner make this so beautiful and an addition to my routine I so wanted to incorporate for aesthetics alone, but my skin remained dry only minutes after application. It just can’t justify the hefty price tag.

And now for the FAVS:

- Hourglass Mineral Veil Primer, $54: Ugh. I can’t find a better one. Gifted to me on my b-day by my beautiful friend Liz, I treasure this DEARLY. I’ve known since college how effective this primer is, how flawless the application (very sheer liquid form makes it glide easily over your skin), and yet because it’s been on the pricier side I’ve never actually repurchased. To receive it as a gift is definitely a nod to how well my besties know me and I am so thankful for them. I only use this on special occasions/going out. Hoping I can make this last for a good few months. I have yet to find a better primer, although Laura Mercier is a close second.

- Laneige Berry Lip Sleeping Mask, $20: Again gifted by Liz (WHY DID YOU SPEND SO MUCH ON ME THIS YEAR STOP) and IT IS THE BEST LIP BALM I HAVE EVER USED. And I’ve tried everything from Glossier (overrated) to all the usual drugstore brands (Eos, Baby Lips, Burt’s, Nivea). Nothing beats this. Not to mention it smells/tastes delicious. Laneige kills it with their sleeping mask for skin and the lip one does not disappoint either. Keeps my lips hydrated and doesn’t leave them extra dry after (that’s the main issue with all those other chapsticks, they moisturize for a bit but leave you drier than you started off. This does not have that issue, and is the only thing I’ve ever come across that doesn’t leave me more dried out!) looks glossy too and that’s always a bonus :)

- Missha Magic Cushion Cover, $12 on amazon: ok so... cushion BB creams are my new fav thing. They are so damn easy to apply (literally pat your face for 15 seconds and you have flawless looking coverage) and don’t dry your skin out as much as foundation. Looks super natural too. I can’t rave about these enough. Sure, regular liquid BB creams/tinted moisturizers are also nice and good for summer but those require brushwork or beauty sponge work which both take a couple minutes, whereas the cushions take mere SECONDS. For someone who has to drag her ass to the hospital at 5am, the shorter the routine the better. (AND YOU CAN’T BEAT THIS PRICE TAG! Altho sadly these do only last about a month with daily use)

- Lastly, I received 2 Drunk Elephant samples for my Sephora B-day gift this year. I’m sure y’all have heard of this brand as it is advertised constantly on instagram and has iconically beautiful packaging in bright, fun colors with minimalist designs. The samples I tried were the Beste No. 9 Jelly Cleanser and the Protini Polypeptide cream. Both are ... phenomenal. Very mild scents, free of all the junk that irritates your skin (mineral oils, silicones, alcohols, etc) and just what my currently cystic acne covered skin needed. (Yes, my acne is back, and I am so bummed about it. Definitely a result of me neglecting skin care when I was studying for Step. I ran out of my prescription retinoid for a couple weeks and sure enough these zits came flying back. Recovery has been slow but there is improvement.) The only caveat to Drunk Elephant products are their prices. Full size Jelly cleanser is $32 and Protini cream $68. Decking yourself out in the Drunk Elephant line will definitely hurt your pockets. But omg... I am seriously contemplating trying their whole line now. It’s not just how beautifully the product wears and how effective it is at what it advertises, but the FREAKING PACKAGING. And I don’t just mean the looking pretty part but more importantly the functional design. Go to Sephora and try the already opened samples yourself and you’ll see what I mean. The Jelly Cleanser cap “twists” (but does not come off) and has a little hole in the center that allows you to squeeze out a tiny dollop of product so you can quickly “twist” it back. And their serums are all in little dispenser bottles. You already know how much I love convenience, and DE makes everything as convenient as possible (and so so clean!)

Hope you enjoyed this review and stay tuned next month for a review of a splurge purchase I made on AmorePacific products. I am especially curious about their Treatment Enzyme Powder to Foam Peels, so will review that later b/c I understand $60 is a lot to drop on something without knowing it will be worth your $. My brother is in Taiwan right now and has been instructed to bring back a hefty haul of sheet masks, eye masks, skin toners/essences/serums galore, so more to come in August. Until then, happy shopping!

xoxo, Amy

#beauty haul #hourglass #laneige #missha #toofaced #drunkelephant #touchinsol #noporeblem #fresh #rose toner #beste no 9 #protini #sleeping mask

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tervacious · 5 years

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Since Everything is a Feminist Dissertation Imma blog about Shane Dawson’s palette for a minute

Nine times out of ten when you make a statement and end it with BUT, you have outted yourself as a hypocritical ass who should have the ovarios to say what follows the BUT without the opening statement. Maybe this will be true for me too.

In agreement with most radfems I totally think the cosmetics industry is a clusterfuck of male entitlement and wealth being siphoned away from girls and women to men and male CEOs, etc etc, and I also think the sheer amount of product and time involved in placing thirty-five different products on one’s face to achieve a “natural” look is insidious and a perfect exemplar of what misogyny functions like on a daily basis, BUT

I’m a survivor of an extreme fundie xtian cult that controlled female behavior by emphasizing conformity, femininity, modesty, and lack of adornment/personality. I did not like this even as a small child because I’m a loner, Dottie. A rebel. Which means I was a totally normal little girl who didn’t like being controlled and who fought back at every opportunity.

Which might explain why I’m a goth. I’m also an artist, and I’m on this planet, as are you, for a very tiny amount of time, and if I want to spend a fraction of that time adorning myself and wearing lots of black eyeliner, by the goddess I’ll fucking do it. And there’s nothing radical or feminist about that, any more than there’s anything inherently radical or feminist about not doing it.

I have a single small dresser drawer filled with makeup, and I’ve been eyeballing it recently because I should really pitch out and replace about 80% of it for age related reasons alone.

And thus we come to the Conspiracy palette by Shane Dawson x Jeffree Star, and also the mini palette, Lorde help me

Jesus christ, look at that.

I only buy one eyeshadow palette at a time and use it until it is gone or falls apart into dust. The current state of the beauty industry is such that they are pressuring women and girls into buying palette after palette, some of them enormous, some small, but a grown-ass woman owning stacks of these things is not unusual anymore. And new ones are coming out constantly-- to the point where there’s a whole part of beauty YouTube devoted to “the anti-haul”, in which people announce which makeup thing they will NOT be buying. This is a sorry state of affairs, there’s no way around it.

I don’t collect makeup because that’s silly. It’s a huge waste of money. I watch otherwise sensible women hoarding vast numbers of eyeshadow palettes, and they use only one or two colors and that’s... just sad? Apply that to the vast quantities of makeup products, to your lipsticks and glosses, to your pencils and correctors and corrector palettes and concealers and blushes and highlighters and contours and powders and foundations and primers and mattifiers and setting sprays and mascaras and a bunch of others things I forget, add a pile of false eyelashes and I don’t know, eyebrow merkins or some shit, and that’s what a well-appointed makeup afficionado is supposed to have in her arsenal. And all those things can’t be just one-- you have to have multiples, for reasons. But I honestly think the eyeshadow obsession is the worst, which is strange coming from me, because I adore eyeshadow.

And yet in spite of this I have a black stand-alone eyeshadow pan, and one large palette that is cheap, made in China, not great but with a lot of weird colors in it, so I use that one when I bother, and a few pots of glitter. My plan is to use it up or wait until it’s too old to use safely, and then pitch it/repurpose the case for something (it is literally the size of a laptop with a huge mirror in it so I can think of something), and get a new palette. I only buy one at a time, and use it until it’s gone. You know, like a rational person.

At first I’d decided when the time comes I’d get the Jawbreaker palette and mini, by Jeffree Star, because I loved the colors, but now I’ve changed my mind, because Shane Dawson’s not only has a case that matches my aesthetic, it also has awesome colors and, most importantly, BLACK. I use black eyeshadow alone or to set my eyeliner, so I’m devoted. And while all of these palettes have too many neutrals for my taste you can always use those for some kinda detail, and the Conspiracy Palette is my jam. It’s really gorgeous. Not gonna lie.

The documentary he made about the making of this palette is interesting on multiple levels-- there’s the process itself, which I didn’t know shit about until now. There was the portrayal of his relationship with Jeffree, which was interesting and often pretty funny, and touching. And from my chronic can’t stop writing feminist dissertations POV, the way women are the target of this business and yet completely sidelined was a real eyeopener. Let me just mention this one part:

In the final episode when the palette is assembled, each pan glued into the box and then the box boxed up, there’s a song with a woman singing about how she’ll never be Prom Queen. Shane is walking through the assembly line, emotional, because this is his project coming to fruition. Jeffree is with him, and Shane starts crying, and Jeffree comforts him. The song is clearly meant to be something Shane feels.

But the scene is of dozens of women, none of whom will be prom queen, none of whom are about to make millions of dollars on cosmetics, in white coats and hair protectors and goggles, busily assembling a beautiful object, which one suspects only a few of them will be able to afford for themselves though I can’t swear to that, it’s possible they are paid well, the place is unusual, Jeffree makes all his product in the United States, and I’m not inclined to jump to conclusions. But they are anonymously and busily working, putting together this thing, meant for women, and no woman really had any functional input into this project at all. This was, as everyone was joking, Shane and Jeffree’s baby. A baby. You know, the thing a man can never have.

I appreciate film making that reveals truth, even if it wasn’t intentional.

So other than that there’s not much to say. You can watch the epic thing yourself on YouTube, it was entertaining (and good for me because I need to opt out of some of the heavier shit I’m always buried in, yet one more reason I fucking QUIT MY JOB and am now FREE,) but if you want a look into the way the business works on the indy end of the spectrum, not the old timey Cosmetics Corporations but the new one that Jeffree Star basically spearheaded and upturned large chunks of the old business model, I think this documentary is a good one for understanding exactly how marginalized women remain in a business that ostensibly is directed at us.

The reason I think women like watching men like Jeffree and Shane and whoever else do these things is because it aids and abets the lie that wearing makeup is all a choice women make. The men are choosing, because men have zero pressure on them to do these things. Women are taught to have affinity with men and to ignore their lack of affinity with us. These bits of entertainment are a great brainwashing reinforcing device, to get us along for the ride, to hop in the car we never ever get to drive. And none of it is intentional, which is the best part. As smart as Shane is, the joy of being male is you just take things, casually, as your birthright. You’re totally entitled to make a nine-hour epic following your friends and family, unapologetically, put it on the internet, and get accolades, including the one I’m writing right now. You’re entitled to dictate the facts as if they contain a great truth. You can be totally unaware of the impact your decisions have for the greater bad. You can think you’re helping your sister-in-law through her crisis created by the very culture you are responsible for while mocking the women she blames for making her feel bad. This set of films is a monolithic treat for a radical woman to confront. And I hope, since there’s truth hidden in plain sight throughout, that a lot of other women and girls will see it too. Will notice the few females scattered throughout the film, consulted in the most cursory way, knowing they have to perform or they’re replaceable. I’m an Old, and used to seeing the real world, which has looked like this all my life. I don’t know what a fifteen year-old will see.

Tati Westbrook also released a new eyeshadow palette last week I think, and since people think if she puts out a forty-five minute video she’s talking too much, she naturally did not film a massive docudrama showcasing her Eyeshadow Palette Journey or whatever I could imagine her saying. Thus she was very much overshadowed by something that won’t appear for sale until tomorrow. I have no doubt she’ll do well, but will she make twenty million dollars? Will she do as well as she could have if she were a man?

Should anyone, off of what is essentially bullshit? Pretty, gorgeous bullshit? Of course not. That’s the actual feminist conclusion, it doesn’t matter if a male or a female is profitting off of, essentially, the insecurities and desires for cool new things and to be hip and liked and looked up to, which all of us have to some extent in some arena. I’m not immune to it either, ain’t lying again. It’s always an unseemly pleasure to have someone half my age ask me what I’m wearing and where I got it. Capitalism has conditioned all of us to associate material things with social acceptance and admiration, and if you are a materialist person like I am, that association comes very easily.

Anyway, that’s it, that’s the bit. I have no doubt this thing will sell out in approximately two hours, which will happen without me because my old eyeshadow palette still works.

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maskedjoker · 5 years

Text

Lost Fragment of Snow(English)

Story 2: Lost Fragment of Snow Red : A child with a grotesque red arm . Mana Walker: A newcomer clown employed by the circus ***

Snow falls quietly onto the Earth. As if it is healing the land which has been abused. Under the layer of gray clouds which stretch on endlessly, there stands a young boy. He is young, but alone. The boy has no name. He is only referred to as Red . Simply because of his strange, wrinkled left arm – ***

Thunder – like claps and cheers break the silence.

“Thank you for everyone’s patronage today.”

It is the voice of the pleased Ringmaster.

It looks like today’s performance is successful as well.

Thought Red distractedly as he polishes the tools in the backstage of the circus. From the slit in the hanging screens, the stage surrounded by lights could be seen.

It was beautiful and full of life—contrasting with the darkness and eeriness of the backstage.

With only a small light bulb swinging above his head, Red sits on the freezing floor and concentrates on polishing the rings.

The red and white striped rings are so big that he can only hold one.

Using both his legs to clamp the ring, and supporting it with his mostly unmovable left arm , he wipes the ring with his more nimble right hand.

In the beginning, he was unable to do these jobs well, and would always curse his left arm , but he is used to it now.

Grind the knives, then wash the clothes. The person who does odd jobs needs to do many things.

“Urgh…”

Red ’s body is shaking because of the cold.

The tent, made up of only one piece of cloth, is very cold. In order for his hand to gain some warmth, Red exhales some air on his hand. Just then, even louder cheers and claps could be heard from the stage, it sounds like they are seeing of the performers who have completed their act.

It looks like they are returning soon.

After a while, the backstage was also filled with a festive atmosphere.

The costumes made by the skilled workman are very bright.

A clown wearing a brightly coloured clown suit. An accordion player with a pleated blouse.

The magician’s sleeve was decorated with a star shaped golden button, and shone with the light.

The hair accessory decorated with flowers and jewels belonged to the female trapeze artist.

The one wearing black and white stripes was the animal trainer— The performers, who have yet to snap out from the excitement felt during the performance, walked past Red with a proud air around them.

Red glanced downwards at his own clothing.

It was extremely sloppy around the collar, and the shirt was very dirty as well. A very short vest was worn as the outer layer. In contrast, his shorts were very big, and can even be pulled to his shoulder level.

Looking at the tragic state of his clothes, it felt really out of place. The performers put their respective props in succession in front of Red, who had not moved at all.

Of course, no one will speak to him.

“The guests’ interests today were really high.”

“Yeah, I felt really great when I was balancing on the ball.”

“Me too, at that time, I really wanted to flip backwards twice.”

All of the happy conversations passed over the head of Red.

No one looked at Red in the eye.

It has always been that way.

Yes, it has always been that way.

He clenched his right hand tightly, and this told him that, it was as if his heart had been pierced by a knife, an uncontrollable grief bubbling up.

Thinking that way, Red put more force behind the hand polishing the ring.

“You’re still the same, so frustrated and hot tempered!” The person who said it was the clown Cosmos, his mouth twisted in a vulgar smile.

A white clown outfit. And on the left side of his face, a red star which is unique to the clown.

It was totally impossible to see his expression underneath the thick layer of makeup and powder, but the only fact known is the malicious twinkle in his eye.

Red looks up at Cosmos, without stopping the polishing of the prop.

He cannot let this sort of guy see his weakness.

Red immediately his hand from shaking.

Yes, this happens often.

“Every time I see your face, I lose my motivation.”

Cosmos roughly pushes Red in the chest.

Red, who is still young—not even ten years old, was flung back easily.

“And, your disgusting arm! Not only is it dirty, it can’t even move, can it? How can such a useless fellow like you manage to stay here!”

Red looks at his left arm.

On it were a few deep wrinkles, just like an arm which had been dyed by a thick coating of blood. It took him a lot of effort just to make his hand move a tiny bit. Even though he wanted it to move just like his right arm, he can’t do anything.

But—this sort of thing, has nothing to do with Cosmos.

Even he knows that this happens often, but as usual, he is unable to control his hatred for Cosmos.

Red’s eyes naturally fill up with power.

The smile suddenly disappeared from the edge of Cosmos’ mouth.

“What’s up with you, that sort of arrogant look!”

Cosmos’ fist hit Red’s chest, he groans softly. The heavy hit made him sick.

Red curled up as he knelt on the floor.

Cosmos had always been that way. Making him suffer in places where it is hard to see from the outside.

“What are you saying, hahh! You’re just a piece of trash!” This time, Cosmos used his leg to kick Red in the stomach.

Red clenched his teeth.

How can he shout?

How can he cry?

This is his only way of rebelling.

He understands the reason behind Cosmos’ frustration.

The new clown has stolen away his popularity.

He planned for himself to always be the best—to this sort of Cosmos, the fact that other people could surpass him, is the hardest fact to swallow.

He wants to break Red into pieces to vent his anger. Facing this sort of Cosmos, from the bottom of his heart, Red feels only contempt towards him.

I will absolutely not give in to this sort of person.

But Cosmos would not let him off easily.

As if he wanted Red to see his shining sneakers, Cosmos cruelly kicks Red’s stomach.

He kicked again and again, causing Red to slowly lose his consciousness. Even then, Cosmos did not forgive and finally aimed a kick at Red’s face. Red’s small body was flung away by the force of the kick, and crashed into the pile of props. “What is that noise!” The Ringmaster heard the loud crash and rushed out. He wears a top hat on his head and has a brush mustache under his nose.

Even though he is short, his pants are tight around his large belly. The buttons on the vertically striped shirt looked like it was going out pop out any moment.

The Ringmaster turned towards Cosmos, his tummy shaking.

“Cosmos, did something happen?”

The Ringmaster asked Cosmos first, as he thought it was due to the Clown’s vigorous activity.

“This bastard was lazing around. For the future of the circus, I need to teach him a lesson!”

Cosmos smiled at the Ringmaster as if he was trying to flatter him. --That’s not it!

Even though he wanted to say that, no sound came out in the end.

No, even if Red denied it, the Ringmaster wouldn’t listen anyway. In front of the Ringmaster who is only interested in money, how he sees these two people is very clear.

The Ringmaster looks at Red with cold eyes.

“…seriously, not only can you not make money, you still want to slack off. Forget about dinner tonight.”

The Ringmaster said impatiently. Then he hauls Red up.

“Who was it that took you in, with no memories and ugly looks, who was it that gave you a place to live and a job? Hmm?”

The Ringmaster leans his pudgy face close.

If he did not answer, then he won’t have a place to belong to anymore.

“…It’s you, the Ringmaster.”

“Who was it that refused to go on stage to perform and insisted on doing odd jobs? Ah?”

“…Me.”

Red replied, the Ringmaster nods in satisfaction.

“That’s right, listen up, I will not allow you to slack off. For Cosmos to think of the circus is really rare.”

“No, it’s what I’m supposed to do.”

Cosmos smiled at the Ringmaster with a smile meant to flatter.

“Really, I spent so much money buying you…you should at least earn my capital back! Definitely no slacking!”

The Ringmaster let go as he said so.

Cosmos seemed to be satisfied at last and leaves with the Ringmaster, smiling and humming to himself.

The other members look away from Red, who had collapsed on the ground, like they did not want to be involved, and left quickly. In the end, no one was left. In the backstage, which had regained its silence, Red, who is alone, finally tries to stand up.

The chilliness of the floor sends a shock through his body. “Urgh…” After an unknown amount of time, the nauseous abdominal pain finally subsided a bit.

Red gets up shakily.

No one will look at me. But, it’s fine like this. I don’t want to care about you people either.

He puts the ring which he had polished into the box, and to let out his feelings of frustration, Red walks out of the tent.

“Ah…..”

It’s a silver world outside.

White snow drifts down slowly.

No wonder it’s so cold.

The circus which was originally filled with people, noisy and extravagant, is currently standing in the square, just like a quietly blooming flower.

Red walks a few steps, unconvinced.

Shashahsha, his foot sinks into the snow.

The air he blows out is white, bone piercing cold seeps in through his thin shirt.

Even then, Red does not stop walking.

There is no place to go. But, he just wants to leave this place. Looking at the trees which have been covered by snow, just like a white sculpture. This comforted his soul a bit.

Seeing the snow that dyes everything white, it is as if his soul has turned pristine white.

It feels as if all his troubled have been forgotten.

Far away from the circus tent, Red kneels on the ground.

Quietly scooping up some of the snow, and placing some on his cheeks, which are as hot as fire.

Because of Cosmos’ hits, the corner of his mouth has cracked. Ah, even though it is painful, the coldness of the snow made him feel comfortable.

--What, in the world am I doing. Red does not have any memories of the past. When he became aware, he realised that he had been sold to the circus. Because he refused to perform on stage, so he decided to do odd jobs to earn a living.

The Ringmaster saw him as a piece of trash who cannot earn money and drifted away from him, he also became an outlet for Cosmos when he was angry, he was even forced by other members to do various things.

When can I—be freed from all these things.

Behind these strong feelings, are feelings of frustration and unease—how is he going to survive with a left arm like this.

Red touches his already protesting stomach, it still feels painful.

Now—he can’t leave. He still needs to continue this humiliating and lonely life. Because he is young, and has no one to depend on.

Red clenches his teeth.

“Eh? You’re from the circus?”

Hearing this innocent voice, Red can’t help but look up.

It was a kind looking boy wearing a large coat, the boy watches with interest.

His cheeks look rather plump.

He looks around my age.

Red looks at the young boy with a puzzled expression.

“It’s really great, the circus!”

“…”

“What tricks do you perform?”

Hearing this, Red feels a tightness in his heart.

“Nothing much…” --This guy who doesn’t know any tricks and does nothing!

The Ringmaster’s words resonate in his ear.

“Wow…the circus, it’s great. You can go to a lot of cities? And can see all sorts of people…it’s awesome!” The young boy continues talking without any prompting.

No matter which city I go to, and who I meet, it’s all the same to me.

Red rolls up his sleeve.

“…!!”

He knows that the boy’s expression has frozen.

A scary, red left arm covered in wrinkles.

“Erhm, that is, has…has something been done to your arm?”

“…”

The young boy looks at the silent Red with fear and turns around in the end, running away.

It has always been like this. Always.

He used to it.

Even though that is what he tells himself, he still feels a sharp pain in his small chest.

The quiet night seems to be able to absorb all sound.

The customers of the circus have gone back home, there is no one left. The circus members are going to sleep very soon as well.

“Ah…!”

Red gave a cry and hid behind a tree.

Someone walked out of the circus tent, it was Cosmos.

I thought he already went to rest!

Cosmos looks drunk.

He was holding a beer bottle in one hand and walking unsteadily.

“Ah~hh, I really can’t continue anymore!”

He does not greet anyone and walks to the member’s tent while talking to himself.

He’s not coming towards here. Red’s heart is pounding as he watches Cosmos quietly.

“I’m…not supposed to stay here…because I have a noble bloodline…” Cosmos, who was completely drunk, did not notice Red, who was hiding in the shadows of the trees, he simply continues walking unsteadily.

Red let out a sigh of relief and leaves the shadows of the trees.

Just like what the other members said. Cosmos will drink himself drunk every night, and complain non-stop.

--I’m not a person who should stay here Cosmos’ words echo.

This is not the place I belong to.

But, if you want to know where this place is, you are unable to find the answer. All alone.

What am I doing in this sort of place? How long will I stay in a place like this?

His stomach growls.

W soup and bread would be nice.

Red feels that his situation is too tragic, and bites his lip.

He brushes the snow of himself and walks into the tent.

“!”

The prop box’s contents, which had been arranged properly, are scattered all over, like a thief has been through it.

Red stares dumbfounded at the scattered props.

Before leaving the tent, he had already kept everything properly.

Members who have finished their work would not take the trouble to come back, they should be asleep now.

He could only think of one suspect.

--Cosmos.

The name appeared together with his anger.

It must be that drunkard.

In order to vent his dissatisfaction, he can do this sort of thing. Even then, if he leaves it like this, he would still get scolded by the Ringmaster the next morning.

--time to check the props.

If it was to vent anger, it is very possible for props to be thrown away.

The Ringmaster only thinks about money. He always thought that giving salary to the members and buying props were unnecessary.

Even if one small ball was lost, he’ll definitely lose his temper. Then throw all the blame onto Red, who does the odd jobs.

Red picks up the things scattered on the ground.

The five big balls are all there. The cigar box used for magic tricks, red, blue, yellow, two each—

Just at this moment.

A kacha sound is emitted from a wooden box.

It is box in the corner of the room, big enough to hold an adult.

--who is it, don’t tell me Cosmos is hiding inside?!

An uncontrollable feeling of violence surges up inside him.

No wait, didn’t I see him return just now?

Then, what is this-

Red watches the box warily—

A large form slowly walks out from the shadows.

“D, dog--?”

Discovering something which he didn’t consider, caused Red to be very shocked.

A huge dog had come out from the box.

Tea coloured fur mixed in with white fur which looked really soft.

On its neck was not a collar but a clown ring.

Which means, this dog belongs to the circus.

Maybe because it’s late at night, not only does it look sleepy, even its movements are dull.

So, it didn’t notice. The dog picked up a ball with a star pattern on the ground, and ran past Red , who was still in shock.

“Ah, wait!”

If one ball is missing, it would mean a lot of trouble.

Whose dog is it! Help me stop it!

Red runs after the dog in panic, out of the tent.

As Red ran through the snow, he felt as if he had seen that dog before.

Recently, a lot of new performers were hired. It should be the partner of one of the newcomers.

It should be a clown.

The circus is a gathering of wanderers.

It’s a place where people of different backgrounds and different goals gather.

And because the Ringmaster is prone to mood swings, the turnover rate of the circus is high.

Because of this, Red cannot remember everyone’s faces.

They are people who are going to leave anyway—

That dog walked towards the darkness.

He is unable to catch up with the dog which can run through the snow easily, so the distance between and the dog grew bigger and bigger.

“Ah!”

Red’s foot sinks into the snow, causing him to fall over.

The cold sensation of the snow causes him to get up hurriedly.

If the prop is lost, I’ll be beaten up again, and I will not get anything to eat again.

His cheeks throb.

“I’m telling you to wait!” Red shouts.

The dog continues running single-mindedly, as if it did not hear the shouts. In the darkness of the outdoors, he searches for the dog’s footprints, but has stopped running.

He is at his limit. “…”

Not only has he been hit, and kicked, his stomach is extremely empty well, there is also the freezing air and the snow which traps his feet.

He is unable to think about anything else.

Red collapses on to the snow, like he had turned limp.

And just like that, he flips over.

Red lies spread-eagled in the snow.

“Hah, hah!”

His rapid breathing could not slow down.

His heart is pounding furiously.

Snow falls onto Red .

His body is covered in white.

He’s cold, and tired, and heart-broken, and suffering—

--he can’t think of anything anymore.

PA!

“!!”

His face seems to be hit by something like a ball.

Red opens his eyes, and discovered that the dog that he should have lost was in front of him.

The dog seems to want to say something. It opens his mouth and pants.

“Wha, what?”

At this moment, the dog quickly stands up on its hind legs. ***

Then shakes its head vigorously.

“Ah---“

The clown tag shakes together with the dog’s movement.

In the midst of the heavy snow, the clown tag shines under the dim street lights.

As it turns, it is as mystifying as the dances from another country.

Red stares dumbfounded at the sight.

Just then, the dog meets Red’s eyes.

That expression is very playful—

This mutt—

He finally understands why the dog ran out.

That right, he wants to play.

No, it should be he wants to tease me.

Even if he knew that—

Red picks up the ball dropped on the ground, and threw it towards the dog.

Even though it was meant as a small joke, the dog jumped lightly and catches the ball perfectly in mid-air with its mouth.

The dog puts down the ball in its mouth.

“Take this!”

Red picks up the ball. This time, he throws it further and harder.

In the air where snowflakes are drifting, the star shaped ball leaves its perfect trajectory.

The dog ran across the ground like a typhoon and jumps towards the grey sky.

Just like it was dancing in the air, the dog catches the ball easily—Red is fascinated with such a scene.

He is very agitated.

The hatred and anger in the depths of his heart had melted—that was the feeling he had.

Red held onto that feeling, and threw the ball again and again.

The dog gracefully leapt through the air to grab the ball, as if it did not want to lose.

This elation was a feeling he did not experience before.

Red couldn’t help but shout and leap in joy.

I really want to stay on a stage like this. When he came to his senses, the pain and hunger pangs have decreased greatly. ***

The person doing odd jobs needs to wake up very early.

“Okay, Red. This is the last one.”

“…”

Red grumpily puts the bowl of soup and bread onto the trolley.

He just needs to send these to the Magician’s tent.

As long as he finishes this, then he can finally eat.

“Breakfast!”

“How slow!”

One of the performers glanced at Red expressionlessly.

“…Sorry.”

Breakfast is sent late because the performers are not popular.

Eating order is determined by popularity.

It looks like this performer’s patience is going to run out soon.

This fact would probably irritate him even more.

Red leaves the tent he just entered. He doesn’t want to be taken apart.

Even then, Cosmos still shouted at him this morning.

--Why am I not the first one? You bastard, you spoke about the previous incident, did you?

Red hurriedly ran away from the angry looking Cosmos.

If he got beaten up again, he wouldn’t be able to take it.

Red breathed a sigh of relief. Finally, he can eat his own meal in the corner of the kitchen.

“Hurry up and finish eating!”

The chef said these unkind words, like he did not want to see Red at all.

Because of Red’s ugly arm, a lot of people hate him. He’s used to such cold looks already. Red holds the bowl of soup.

His tightened stomach felt a bit warmer because of the soup.

Red quickly left the tent after finishing and distributing the food.

The person doing odd jobs has a lot of work.

I need to finish them quickly.

Red picks up the performer’s clothes which have been drying at the corner of the tent.

Using his immobile left hand to support the clothes, and using his right hand to tightly hug the bundle.

“Okay…”

All he has to do with bring these to the backstage and stack them piece by piece in an orderly manner.

Because he’s already used to it, he can quickly finish the job with only his right hand.

Sometimes, performers will walk past him.

But no one will talk to him.

Red will not talk to anyone as well.

Every day, in the backstage, he is used like a tool.

These sort of lonely jobs are also very common.

Common—

At that moment, someone nudges him from behind.

“!!!”

He turns around in shock, and saw the dog, with ragged breathing, behind him.

“…Huh, it’s you again!”

Red gave a cold look at the mutt staring at him with a wet nose.

Maybe it was satisfied with the reply, the dog sat down next to Red.

After that snowy night, the dog will always pick the times when Red is alone to be next to him.

Red ignored the dog, and turned his back on it to fold the clothes.

The dog stayed next to him quietly.

He can feel the dog breathing behind him, and sometimes, it was very clear that it had yawned. Who’s going to turn back?

Red continued to sit with his back to the dog.

And simply continued with his work.

Quietly, he wanted to suppress his feelings.

Actually—really, he wants to pat it.

He wants to play with the dog.

He wants to be really close to it.

The elation he felt that snowy night, replayed itself in his mind over and over again.

It was the first time since he came to the circus.

That he can feel happy from the bottom of his heart. But—

“Strange? What happened to that acrobat? (The one who balances on the ball)

“Ohh, that one? He resigned yesterday.”

“Is it? He should have said something—whatever, it doesn’t matter much anyway.”

Hearing the conversation of the performers walking past him, Red clenches his teeth.

It is difficult to tell when the performers will leave one after another.

The dog’s owner will leave one day, and go to another place.

That means that he would not be able to see the dog again.

Red could not tolerate it anymore, and stole a backward glance at the dog.

The dog’s good senses picked that up and shook its head.

This pitiful action, made Red feel very warm inside.

Something warm gushes out from the depths of his soul.

Red stops the hand folding the clothes, then clenches his fist, looking away from the dog.

I can’t get close to him.

Definitely not. The presence of the dog behind him pains him, Red thought of it that way.

This dog will leave me soon, together with its owner.

If I accept it, it will be especially painful when we say goodbye.

It would definitely be as painful as stabbing a knife through his chest, an unimaginable pain.

It may also be as painful as swallowing a rock.

No matter what, it will only increase the feelings of loneliness.

Once he thinks about this, it feels like he fell into a deep chasm.

So I will turn my back to it.

Red concentrates on his job once more.

Red does not talk to it, does not pat it, and even more, did not pay attention to it at all—

Even then—

The dog keeps loitering behind him. ***

“Ka!” Red’s face comes into contact with hard object. It’s a ball used in transformation magic.

“Ow…”

He bears the pain and lifts up his head, only to come into eye contact with Cosmos, who is filled with nastiness.

“Drat, it’s because the ball slipped from my hand! Having been touched by such a dirty hand, the ball is really dirty! If the stunt fails because of this, then it is definitely your fault.”

“…”

He meticulously polishes the props every day. But, not just Cosmos, many others like to blame Red.

If things cannot be performed properly by the person, the props are blamed.

They’re so shameless.

It’s too much.

Red stares disgustedly at Cosmos, whose back is facing him. He had taken off his wig and thrown it on the floor.

Even though Cosmos often finds faults with Red, Cosmos is in a very bad mood these few days.

Because a clown more popular than Cosmos has appeared.

That would be the dog’s owner. All of the clown’s techniques are well executed; his amusement tactics are unique; and the special canine partner, both of them are very popular.

His popularity continues to increase. Now, there is a rumor that many returning customers specially come to watch his show.

“It looks like Cosmos may not be able to snatch his No. 1 spot back.”

He remembered that someone has whispered this sentence before—

“Oi!”

The low, angry voice, made Red jump.

It came from Cosmos, who had stuck his head in through the Circus’ curtains.

And I thought he had gone outside already.

His heart beats furiously.

He’s going be get badly beaten up again.

“I have something to talk about with a useless fellow like you. Hurry up and come!”

Red stands up slowly.

He wanted to reject Cosmos, but if Red did not listen, he will be on the receiving end of more violent beatings.

With no abilities, a left arm which cannot move.

No one will protect a troublesome person like Red.

Red can only surrender to the flow of events.

Cosmos grabbed Red’s arm and dragged him to the small pocket of trees outside.

After removing the wig, Cosmos’ golden hair drapes around his face, giving off an even more disgusting feeling.

“Oi, you, seem really close to that dog, right!”

“D,dog…?”

For a short moment, Red did not know what Cosmos was talking about. But after a while, he realised that Cosmos was referring to the dog which kept following him.

“I’m referring to that smelly dog with a collar around its neck. Listen, you must not tell anyone!”

Cosmos lowers his volume and whispers next to Red’s ear.

Then, he shoves a small bag to Red.

Even though he was very reluctant, but Red accepts it anyway.

“What, is this….”

Touching it lightly, he realises that it’s hard. With a very bad feeling, Red looks into the bad and gasps in shock.

There was a lot of crushed glass in the bag.

Reflected in Cosmos’ light blue eyes was the expression of cruelty.

“Mix these things into the dog’s food.”

For a while, Red does not understand the implications behind the statement.

“Eh, ehh? If I did that—“

Red got slapped, hard.

Cosmos started to shout at Red, who was stunned by the blow.

“No nonsense from you! It’ll be fine as long as you do as I say. Unless brat!”

His face, which was hit, hurt a lot.

Then, Cosmos’ statements started circulating in his head.

The dog, whose tag kept spinning, in the heavy snow.

The dog, which will use its nose to nudge his back when he’s stacking the clothes.

The dog, which will quietly follow him when he’s moving props.

“…I won’t!”

He says it easily.

“Hah?”

“I won’t do this sort of thing!”

Red throws the bag back to Cosmos.

The bag full of glass, lands at Cosmos’ feet with a crack.

Cosmos runs a hand through his hair, and breathes in impatiently.

Then he takes a big step forward.

His light blue eyes giving off a fierce look, Cosmos brutally gives a kick in Red’s direction.

After that, was a flurry of kicks.

Red collapses with a groan.

Chest, stomach, leg—

His body is in so much pain that it feels like it’s falling apart, but the blows keep coming.

But Red continues clenching his teeth.

He will never say “Yes”—even if he was killed.

He swore to himself. His vision starts to blur.

Ah, am I going to die—

Just as he loses consciousness, he hears a dog barking. ***

“Urgh…”

Red gets up slowly. Suddenly, pain courses through his body.

Slowly, he becomes more alert.

“Ah…”

Red remembers.

Cosmos took him outdoors, told him to feed glass to the dog, then because Red refused, he got violently beaten up—but it feels like he had heard a dog barking…

What he heard before he lost consciousness should not be that dog’s barking.

Red felt a chill go down his spine.

He had—a bad feeling.

What if, it came to save him.

If that was the case.

Cosmos wants to kill that dog. It’s possible that something had been done already.

The sun had already set, and the surroundings are getting dark.

Red stands up slowly and shakily made his way back to the Circus.

After entering the tent, he crossed the backstage to glance at the stage.

“Ah--”

He felt extremely relieved.

The dog’s performing on the stage with its owner.

Leaping to catch the ball, the tag turning round and round—

Red breathed a sigh of relief seeing its energetic self.

And I thought Cosmos had done something to it, it looks fine.

The bark that he heard before he lost consciousness must be an illusion.

Maybe it was because he felt relieved, Red, who displayed no interest in the performances before, stood quietly by the curtains watching the stage.

The dog’s owner took a cup out from the box and swung the cup around in an amusing manner.

Then threw it towards the dog. But, the dog turned in the other direction with a ‘humph’, as if it was ignoring him.

The dog’s owner shrugged his shoulders, and—stuck both his hands on his face.

This hilarious look caused some outburst amongst the audience.

The dog’s owner then took the ball with the star shaped pattern.

“Ah…”

Red exclaimed to himself as the memories of that snowy night resurfaced.

The dog caught the ball which the owner threw very gracefully.

Loud claps ensued as the audience saw how experienced the dog was when it caught the ball.

The dog’s owner was indeed more popular than Cosmos, his tricks were varied and exquisite.

Sometimes hilarious, other times elegant and showy.

The audiences’ eyes were always filled with light; they laughed till they fell over, and they wouldn’t stop clapping.

He was able to transform the rowdy audience into one entity.

Everyone was absorbed with his performance.

Being able to perform with such an owner must be a very happy thing.

The dog performed, full of life.

It was so bright.

The clown, and the dog—

Red couldn’t help but squint.

It was too bright.

The customers and the dog, they loved the clown on the stage.

It was an incomprehensible feeling.

Love, and being loved—this had nothing to do with him.

He would not love anyone, and no one would love him.

Even though it was right in front to him, it needed to be treated like something that happens in a land far away.

“Urgh…”

Something warm is rising up in his chest.

Red tries to keep it down. Possessing an ugly arm, abandoned by his parents, isolated by others in the circus, and having to worry about violence every day.

One day, there was a dog.

There was a dog.

At my side where no one would approach, there was a dog.

Until the day, I always thought it was okay to be alone.

But it’s not like that—

I was only forcing myself. If I did not do that, I would not be able to live on. The situation happening in front of me, part of a bright world—is that “love”?

If it is like that—then I want to obtain “love”

I envy those with “love”. I am too lonely, too miserable.

Even though it’s just right in front of me, I can’t touch it.

I am unable to obtain it.

When I realized it.

My face was covered in tears…

After the performance, the clown and dog returned to the backstage.

“Bark!”

The dog discovers Red, and bounds towards him happily.

Thump thump, his heart is pounding.

What, what should I do? What should I—

Many emotions are swirling in his heart.

The image of the brightness of the dog and the clown on stage, surfaced in Red’s mind.

“Shoo, go away!”

Red kicks hard, and sends the dog flying.

Bark! The dog whimpers and falls on the floor. “Ah--”

Red is stunned.

I, I didn’t want—to do this sort of thing…

He quickly runs away from the place.

He just kept running and running, unable to control his sad emotions.

So envious.

So jealous—

He did not know what to do anymore.

Red, who was confused, did not realised that he had just brushed past Cosmos.

He also did not realise that Cosmos was currently rubbing his leg, which had been bitten by a dog, with a vengeful look. ***

Ever since that day, the dog never returned to Red’s side.

It was expected, because he suddenly sent it flying.

But he did not feel any pain.

In fact, he thought it was better that way.

Because he did not want to see them.

Just hurry up and go to another place, stay out of my sight.

This circus is just a temporary stop.

The performers will appear before disappearing one after another.

Because it’s all temporary, so there cannot be any expectations. It will only cause pain.

Therefore, do not get attached to others, and do not let others get attached to me.

But—something aches in heart.

“Red, I’m going out to buy something, come with me as well!”

“Yes!” Red was called out by the chef, into the streets.

The streets are filled with Christmas decorations, it was very lively outside.

In the more prosperous stores lining the road, there were many customers.

There were also many roadside stalls, trying to promote their wares.

Everyone is looking at presents happily.

Children circle innocently around their parents.

All of this feels a world away.

The chef would not talk to him as well.

Red walks on the prosperous streets silently.

In this place, he could feel the difference between him and the happy people.

I am—very lonely.

But, it isn’t that bad.

It’s fine like this.

After shopping, he put the mountain of bread, meat, vegetables, wine and other things onto the trolley and pushed it back to the circus. He sees the dog sleeping beside the heater.

Normally, just before the performance, it would always be practicing together with its owner.

What’s wrong, is it not feeling well?

Red hesitates in approaching the dog.

He remembered that he had sent the dog flying.

I did something really horrible to it.

It’s still a better decision not to get myself involved.

But—

He slowly approaches the dog, still feeling hesitant.

The dog is lying on its side, with no energy in its limbs.

The coat covering the dog must belong to its owner. Even though the coat is really old, once you look closely, it’s actually of high quality.

The dog’s chest rises and falls. The dog, which is breathing deeply as it sleeps, now looks older than he imagined.

And very weak as well.

Red stretches his arm towards the dog, he is worried.

--it’s okay if I just touch it a bit, right?

But I could be hated already.

Even though he felt uneasy, but he still reached out regardless.

He nervously touched the dog’s body.

The dog did not move.

Slowly stroking its body, the dog suddenly opened its eyes.

“Ah…”

I must have woken it up.

Seeing Red standing there, the dog got up quickly.

Watching Red’s face, it quickly used its back legs to stand up, panting as it did then. Then, it collapsed on the floor.

It must want to perform tricks for him.

The dog rolls around listlessly.

Red continuously rubs the body of the dog, which had fallen down once again.

He wants to make up for sending it flying.

Can this intent reach—

The dog looks comfortable, and licks Red’s hand.

It licked the hand which everyone was disgusted with, the left hand.

Red felt all warm inside.

Like he had been forgiven.

He strokes the dog again.

“If you’re healthy again, if you get well, if-- ”

He said it naturally. It was almost like a prayer.

Red concentrates on stroking the dog.

Then, there was a taste of sunlight.

The dog which was being stroked quietly.

It was as if time had stopped between them.

Just then, the bell announcing the start of the performance rings.

The dog’s ears perked up instantly.

It got up quickly and ran to its owner’s side.

Seeing it like that, Red breathes a sign of relief.

Maybe it was just a little tired…

He holds his hand tenderly.

If it’s possible, he would want to touch it more. ***

It was still snowing heavy up till yesterday, but today, there were no clouds in the sky.

“Ah…”

Red, who had finished washing the clothes, discovered the dog’s owner sitting by himself under a tree near the tent.

It’s Christmas Day today. The performers have all gone out to the street to publicise their performance.

The man in the clown suit did not move at all, just like a puppet which had lost its strings.

The man just silently stared at the ground in front of him.

--What is he doing?

If he’s just resting, then this scene is weird.

But, it has nothing to do with me.

Red will not approach the performers on his own, because they will think Red is disgusting, and ignore him, or order him around like a servant.

But no matter what, he is still concerned. He is the person who is partnered with the dog.

What kind of person is he?

Red moves closer to the man.

“--!”

He almost stopped breathing.

In the man’s line of sight is a hole—the dog is lying in it.

“Is it dead?”

The man stared at Red, with a rather shocked expression.

From the clown’s makeup, he can see that his eyes are a deep gold colour.

“It’s dead.”

The man replied, loneliness evident in his voice.

Then, he started to pile soil on top of the dog.

Red watches all of this quietly.

“…those are all bruises!”

Even under the fur, it can be seen that the dog is covered in bruises that would make anyone wince.

It spoke plainly about how the dog met its end.

--there was only one possibility.

Cosmos.

That guy killed it. A boiling anger surged forth.

Endlessly churning, boiling vigorously.

“It was definitely done by that guy Cosmos. Because, you’re more popular than he is. As long as someone is more popular than him, he would not let it go. His performance skills are obviously bad, but he’s good at doing these things!”

Red started to say without pause, as if he had been possessed.

Compared to the agitated Red, the man replied blandly.

“It had been with me for a very long time, so it wouldn’t have much time left anyway. Forget it.”

“…”

The dog’s body is now totally buried in the soil; the man gently put the ball with the star pattern on the ground, just like a gravestone.

--Forget it.

Hearing this, Red realises that he is very disappointed.

Why, isn’t he angry? Why doesn’t he hate Cosmos?

The fury he felt burned more strongly than before. Red, who can’t do anything, found himself unable to divert any of these feelings.

“Then you’re not taking revenge?”

“If I did that, I’ll be chased out by the Ringmaster, which would mean that whatever I did before would be wasted.”

After saying that, the man put his palms together in front of the grave.

--Che.

What is this.

His partner had been murdered!

How can he be so calm?

Even I hate Cosmos this much already.

At least he should mention something about revenge, right?

Opposite from what Red was feeling at this moment, the man is very calm.

“I’m an outsider anyway. I’ll be leaving for another place after Christmas tomorrow…”

“I see.”

Behind his peaceful answer, Red’s emotions are in turmoil.

He totally regretted it.

To be touched by the performance of such a person, he’s really an idiot.

The man who would not even shed a tear, it’s too much.

The dog’s owner is actually this sort of person.

He really wants to leave quickly. But he is unable to look away from the dog’s grave.

“Hmm?”

The man only looks at Red now.

“Then again, who are you?”

“I’m the one doing odd jobs here…I bought your meals before.”

“I’m not good at remembering faces. Ah, now that I’ve looked closely, aren’t you covered in bruises too?!”

The man licked his own finger and rubbed it against Red’s face.

Facing this sort of unexpected action, Red dodges.

“Wah! It’s gross! Don’t use your saliva, idiot!”

“It’s antiseptic. Were you hit by Cosmos too?”

“You’re irritating!”

Even though that was the case, he did not want to admit it.

“Do you have friends?”

“You’re irritating!!”

Red shouts.

“This sort of place…I definitely leave once I grow up, so friends or whatever, I don’t need them!”

He remembers the boy’s expression, who had run away after seeing his left arm.

A terrified and disgusted expression.

I don’t need friends or anything like that—

Red is shocked.

The man used both his hands—and squeezed his face.

“What the heck are you doing!”

“You don’t have any energy?”

The man asks, surprised.

Red has no idea what he’s talking about. It was infuriating.

Then, he recalled that the man used that gesture to create an outburst of laughter amongst the audience.

“I’m sorry, I don’t like clowns. In fact, I dislike them?”

“Aiyaya!”

The man smiles.

“I dislike audience and children who don’t laugh as well!”

“Hmph!”

Red just stares at the dog’s grave. As he thought, since he couldn’t understand, so he can’t leave.

“You…why aren’t you crying? You lived with this guy. It’s not possible not to feel sadness?

When he realised it, the clown was not around anymore.

“?”

As he turned, he found that the man had used a rope to hand himself off the nearby tree.

“I’m so sad I could die.”

“Stop it!”

It could be an act, such a scary feeling.

I have a feeling, this guy, doesn’t feel right…?

“You see, I, can’t cry.”

The man removed the rope from his neck, and explains blandly.

“Maybe it’s already dry. No tears can come out.”

“What kind of explanation is that!”

This person is hard to comprehend.

Red’s attention returns to the grave.

Then again—

“This guy, what’s its name?”

The clown is silent. “I touched it yesterday, and it licked me, it felt so warm!”

That dog which licked him happily.

That dog did not care about my ugly hand at all.

“So today, I also…”

The words are at the tip of his tongue, his whole body is shaking, tears fall without warning.

I also wanted to pat it today. Like, do your best today as well.

“Why, only having this sort of relationship with it, why am I crying…!”

He can’t hold it in anymore.

Red lets out all the feelings that he kept in.

“Wahhh-------------!!”

This is the first time he cried out loud.

The tears flowing down his cheeks feel hot.

“I see.”

The man watches Red, who is crying.

“You’re Allen’s friend.”

--Friend.

This word kept circling around in his mind.

That dog was actually named Allen.

I—have never called that name before.

He recalls the warmth when he stroked the dog.

He wanted to call out its name.

He wanted to be close to it.

Red cried until he was exhausted, and even fell asleep. And the man, just like a puppet with broken strings, just sat next to him. ***

“Urm…” A comfortable swaying—

Red wakes up from a peaceful nap.

How warm…

What, is this…

“Ah!”

Red realises that he’s being carried by the Clown.

He also knows how red his face is.

“Put, put me down!”

As Red said so, the Clown smiles while his body bobs up and down, walking lightly. It wasn’t long before they returned to the tent.

The Clown put Red next to the heater.

“What, what are you doing…”

Even after Red asked, the man does not reply. Not just that, his legs are shaking, like they have been frozen.

“What? Are you cold?”

The man takes out his own coat puts it around him, his expression warms up and he smiles slightly.

“…? You want to say that you’re warmer?...You think you’re acting a mime performance?!”

Then, the man wraps his coat around Red.

It was the coat which covered the dog yesterday.

It’s warm…

A smell just like the sun wafts out. That guy’s smell…

The temperature of the coat, caused him to remember the dog’s warmth. Tears well up, this time, a silk cap was pushed on him.

The silk cap is slightly larger than Red head, and soft.

“Wait, what are you doing, really?!”

The Clown smiled as usual, after that, the Clown passes over the circus’ flyer. ***

The streets on Christmas are more lively than before.

The street lights are decorated and people are outdoors, carrying the goods needed for Christmas celebrations.

The smell of meat and bread mixes together with the noisy crowd.

Cheerful cries are heard.

Surrounded by the excitement, Red and the man walk along the streets.

The performers are showing off their skills in the open area.

Red, who was forced to follow, passes out flyers next to the performing Clown.

“…Why do I have to do these sort of things…whatever, I’m supposed to do odd jobs anyway.”

Even though he is not used to being in public, but the coat which the Clown gave him covers up with ugly left arm, so he ignores the stares which others people are giving.

“Wah, look quickly!”

“It’s a clown!”

“It’s great, so vibrant!”

The people who were passing by stopped in their tracks, and smiled at the clown’s performance.

Red, who was standing nearby, had to admit.

This man’s performance has to be the best one so far.

A crying boy approaches.

Even with his mother trying to comfort him, the boy does not stop crying.

The clown gracefully appears in front of the boy.

Then he smiles, pulling a balloon out from his sleeve. Then he inflates the balloon and ties a knot.

What he made was a balloon dog.

The clown passes the balloon to the boy, the boy stopped sniffling and his face is radiant.

It’s perfect.

The children around the clown quickly gathered around him.

“I want one too, I want one too~” “Me too~!”

The clown is surrounded by smiling children.

Red glances over at the clown while distributing the fliers, and the clown turned in his direction.

“What, what is it?”

The clown did a funny action, first walking around with a spring in his step, then doing a handstand, with just one hand.

The people who were watching clapped.

The clown turned once before standing up again, then danced around in circles.

“Wa..wah!”

Then suddenly spread out his arms and used two fingers to point at Red.

Yes, like he meant “He’s up next”

The surrounding audience watched Red expectantly.

“Eh? Ehh?”

Red, who was suddenly pointed out, is stunned.

Seeing his stunned state, the clown tilted his head and shrugged his shoulders, as if he can’t help it.

Seeing this action, the audience laughed as well.

They thought he had no courage—

Red, competitive by nature, flares up.

I’ll do it, just you see!

Red puts the fliers aside, and stepped on the ground.

The scenery went by in a circle.

A flip in the air. He’s still confident on the nimbleness of his body. After landing lightly on the ground like a cat, the audience clapped and cheered.

The clown crossed his arms, like he’s considering something.

Then he snaps his fingers.

He gently lifts up one leg and on tip-toe, slowly turned one round. This amusing ballet move caused the audience to laugh.

If it like that, I’ll do it too.

“Everyone stand back please!”

After saying so, Red did a little jog and with a push of his arm, executed a somersault, and jumped back up again lightly.

This showy move attracted more applause and cheers.

The clown then pretended he was so shocked that he fell over, which bought about more laughter.

The clown got up slowly, and smiled at Red. And Red also had a smile on his face, although he did not know when it happened.

They bowed deeply to the audience and loud claps could be heard around them.

Being clapped for, and making people happy, this was the first time it has happened.

The clown passed the silk cap over.

Red held the cap out and some of the audience threw coins in.

My skills were recognised?

Red started to blush—

“Kid, what’s your name?”

Turning around, he sees a man wearing a coat on top of his black priest clothing.

The silver cross on his chest is shining.

He was a big man, Red raises his head, feeling rather nervous. The man puts money into his cap, and watches him.

His eyes were sharp—like they can see through everything.

Even though he’s wearing priest robes, the man gives off a scary threatening aura.

Red is shocked, and stares dumbly at the man.

His deep red hair, the colour of blood, and covering half his face, is tied in a ponytail,

The man’s stare seems to stick onto his body, and feels cold.

“Didn’t you hear me? Your name.”

This pressuring sentence caused Red to jolt. I don’t have a name. Telling himself that, Red ignores the red haired man.

“Oi!”

He acts like he did not hear the man’s voice and continues to give out flyers while saying promotional statements.

“You’re called Allen?”

“No!”

He mumbled, giving a negative.

He actually said I’m Allen? What is this man saying.

Red glanced at this man.

Allen is the dog’s—

“Not a dog.”

The man replies like he can see through Red’s thoughts.

“…Hah?”

“…If that’s not your name then forget it, listen up, brat, don’t get too close to Mana.”

The red haired man says before disappearing amongst the crowd.

What is up with that…

The man is different from all the people he had seen so far.

What kind of person is he?

Red watches the man leave, his heart pounding.

After he had distributed all the fliers, Red sees the clown.

“Mana…?”

“Hmm?”

The clown reacts to Red’s words.

“Mana?”

He asks the clown. The clown nods.

“Hmm?” “Are you called Mana?”

“Yes.”

Thinking about it, Red finds out that he does not know the clown’s name yet.

“How did you know my name?”

“Just now, a strange man with red hair wearing priest robes spoke with me. That guy told me ‘Don’t get close to Mana’--”

After saying that, Mana’s expression became weird.

It was Red’s first time seeing his serious expression, and felt a little shocked.

Then he suddenly ran off.

“Mana?!”

Red follows in panic.

“Mana, what’s wrong?”

“I need to find that person!”

Mana looks around frantically.

But there was no trace of the red haired man in priest robes.

“Mana, he can’t be found anymore!”

Mana does not listen to Red’s words at all.

So he runs around the streets aimlessly, with no results.

The sun had already set.

The circus performance is going to start soon, it’s time to return.

Mana’s shoulders slump in disappointment.

“…Why do you spend so much effort looking for him, do you know him?” After Red asked the question, Mana replies with loneliness.

“That could be my little brother.”

“Little brother…?”

Mana, not giving up, continued to search through the crowd. He steps forward shakily.

“Ah, wait!”

Mana is still focused on searching the crowd.

Red’s voice did not reach him.

Just then, a horse carriage rushes towards them.

Within a split second, Red pushes Mana into a nearby drain.

“Wah…be careful!”

“…”

“You almost died!”

Even though Mana was reprimanded by Red, his eyes never leave the crowd.

“Seriously, I can’t handle you.”

Red brings him to a park nearby to wash off the dirt acquired when they fell into the drain.

Mana also removed his clown makeup and took off his wig.

Red couldn’t help but stare at Mana’s face.

This was his first time seeing Mana’s real face.

A sharp nose, and a face with wrinkles which showed his age.

And the feature which leaves the biggest impression, a pair of bright gold eyes. Mana meets Red’s stare.

Being stared by Red so much will still make him feel embarrassed, Mana turns away.

“Really, you need to be more careful. You, if I didn’t save you, you would have died!”

“Death is really such a dislikeable thing!”

Mana said, laughing.

“So, you have to be more careful!”

“I guess you’re right, I apologise. Ahh, today’s weather is really good!”

“…what does this matter have to do with weather?”

“The evening sun during this sort of day is the most beautiful.”

“As—I—said, I wasn’t talking about that, I want you to be more careful! I know you’re worried about your brother, but!”

Seeing Red looking rather miffed, Mana smiles slightly.

“You know, I’m only seventeen.”

“Hah?”

Mana looks like a middle aged man no matter how you looked at him.

It could be that Mana sensed what Red was thinking, he smiles, looking rather troubled.

“When I woke up one morning, I realized that I have became a middle aged man. I don’t know the reason at all. But, I was a seventeen year old youth the day before. At the beginning, when I saw my own face in the mirror, I was really shocked!”

Red directed a weird look at Mana, who had suddenly said something weird.

So he really is a rather weird—no, really weird person.

“Even then, after I stared at my looks for a while, I still managed to calm down, then I felt something was strange.”

Red just listens silently without saying anything. Mana felt that Red must be waiting for him to continue, so he continues speaking.

“I have a little brother, but he is nowhere to be found.”

Mana quietly leans towards Red.

“I will say this to you only…”

He moves his face closer to Red’s ear and whispers.

“I am being chased. If I get caught, I’ll definitely be killed.”

“By whom?”

“I think it’s someone called the Millennium Earl, he is a person who can turn humans in AKUMA. Because there are AKUMA everywhere, you’ll need to stay alert.”

Then Mana places a finger over his lips.

This action definitely belongs to a child, this sort of behaviour does not suit him. Red feels that this person is not just abnormal, he could be suffering from some illness.

“My brother must have been separated from me. I must find him. Because if I have turned into this sort of middle aged man, even if he sees me, he won’t recognize me. I need to go and find him…so I need to be alone, and begin my life of wandering.”

“Is that so?”

Red, who had been silent the whole time, speaks.

“Your little brother could have abandoned you.”

He says this subconsciously.

After the sentence left his mouth, Red is shocked at himself.

“If, if it’s true, what do you plan to do…”

Because of the ugly left arm, you were sold to the circus.

That was what he heard from the Ringmaster.

Being pulled into the circus for an unknown reason, and constantly bullied after that.

Being loathed because of his hideous left arm.

The members who treated him like he’s an object.

It only left disgusting memories.

So he shields away from any relationships that have to do with him.

Because I have been hated by everyone.

Even my parents—abandoned me.

But even a person like me, still had a dog to keep me company. But, it was killed.

The feeling of happiness only stayed for a while.

The painful memories up till now resurfaced in an instant, and it showed in his choice of words.

Red knew what was true sadness and Mana just watched the sky quietly.

The sky was dyed beautifully by the evening sun.

The mix of red and orange, reflected in the snow on the ground, is very dazzling. The rays of the sun lit up the plants, trees and people, changing slowly.

“How beautiful!”

Mana praises. “I love beautiful worlds the best.”

Mana says, yet he looks like he had cried. ***

The time for the performance is nearing. When they returned from the streets, they found a large crowd.

Perhaps it was to get good seats, everyone arrived early.

Entering the circus tent, Red is shocked.

He realises that Cosmos is waiting there.

He is wearing the clown getup, his arms crossed, smiling to himself.

The peace obtained from the time he spent with Mana disappeared without a trace.

This bastard—it was this bastard who killed Allen.

Yet Cosmos is still looking around happily.

“What happened to your partner?”

Mana tilts his head.

“…Who, are you? I’m, not very good at remembering faces…”

Cosmos expression distorts suddenly

“~~~~?! I’m Cosmos!”

“If many customers come today, it’ll be really great~~~”

Saying that, Mana walks away and disappears to the other side of the canvas.

His steps are light, giving people the impression that he had forgotten his dog’s death.

…Mana may think it’s alright, but I will not think that way.

Red glares at Cosmos.

“…You killed it, didn’t you?”

“Hah?”

Cosmos looks at Red.

“The dog’s dead. It’s body full of wounds. The only person who would do it is you!” “Of course that’s impossible! Calm down, Red. Haha—hmm, that’s right, that’s right. Hey—everyone! Let’s hear what Red just said!”

Hearing the commotion, the other circus members came over.

Cosmos surveys his surroundings with a smile.

“It looks like that cute dog is dead. And, it was Red who killed it.”

“Wha…!”

Hearing Cosmos words, Red sucked in a breath of cold air.

“You were performing some tricks with that clown during the day, weren’t you? You may have felt that that dog was in the way, so you killed it to be its replacement!”

“How could I have done that!”

When he was about to say—that it was rubbish, Red felt it.

The other members are giving him cold stares.

He also knows that he is shaking.

--In this place, I’m just a burden. No one would believe me.

His feelings of rage have reached his limit.

“Arghhh!”

He picks up a nearby plank and swings it at Cosmos with all of his strength. But he can only use one hand, and a scrawny child cannot release that much power.

“Ugh!”

Red sighs in irritation, and Cosmos shouts exaggeratedly while holding his shoulder.

“AHHHH!”

Hearing the sound, the Ringmaster rushes over.

“What’s wrong, Cosmos!”

Cosmos jumps towards the Ringmaster’s stomach, saying.

“That bastard, actually used a plank to hit me! Argh…my hand…”

The Ringmaster glares at Red with fury in his eyes, and used the plank, which had dropped on the ground, to hit him. “Ah!”

Then he repeatedly used the plank to beat up Red, who had fallen on the ground.

He did it until the plank broke, and angrily threw the broken part at Red.

“You, you bastard…you’re just a useless person!”

He glares at Red on the ground, vein popping.

Anger had caused his fat body to shake.

“I can’t tolerate it anymore. Throw him into the animal cage!”

The Ringmaster speaks like he’s going to abandon Red. Red can tell.

--He didn’t even ask for the reason.

To everyone, the truth is not important at all.

For matters concerning me, to everyone—

A boiling anger overflows.

“Okay, come here!”

The Ringmaster reaches out, like he wants to grab him. But Red escapes easily and rushes at Cosmos again.

Anger had caused the scene in front of him to turn red.

Whatever it is, I don’t care.

He just felt that this cannot be forgiven.

He remembers the dog’s corpse, covered in bruises.

Allen jumping around energetically. Always following behind him. And he would even lick the left hand that everyone is disgusted with.

At least, let me take revenge for him.

Even though I’m not his owner.

Even though I’ve only been contact with it for a short time.

But it dying just like that, it definitely cannot be ignored.

If reasons can be said, there are simply too many! Red silently glanced at his blood red left arm.

Even though this ugly left arm can barely move, but it is as heavy and as hard as lead.

If it’s this—

Red jumps up with all his might.

Twisting his body in his air, he adds a flip.

Then he swings his left arm towards Cosmos’ skull.

He put all the power into his left arm.

He wants to kill him.

With a loud noise, the hard objects collided—

Light shards shine in the air.

“Ah---”

The shining shards attracted Red’s attention, he was shocked.

The person who collapsed was not Cosmos, but Mana.

Mana, who should have gone to the stage, had returned, and even rushed out to protect Cosmos.

“Mana!”

The light shards slowly disappeared on Mana’s head.

“No…you can’t kill him…”

Blood started to flow from Mana’s head.

“You can’t do something that tragic…”

At this time, Mana is still smiling.

His face is now dyed red with blood, with Mana smiling, it’s like he is shedding blood red tears.

“Why…”

He cannot understand.

I need to talk some sense into this bastard.

Even though his dog died, he still can smile so stupidly and even protected the murderer! Red turns angrily towards Mana.

“Why must you be so calm! Why must you protect a bastard like Cosmos!”

Red is sitting on Mana and used his left arm to hit him again.

“Ah…”

For an instant, Mana’s eyes lose his focus.

But he regains his smile quickly.

“Don’t smile! Don’t smile anymore!”

Red hits Mana again. Again and again—

Every time he swings his red arm, light shards will dance around together with the blood flowing out of Mana’s head

He can’t move his hand anymore.

“Thank you…for making my friend so happy…”

That was what he heard.

Why, why, why.

He couldn’t think anymore. He’s just, just saying what he believed in.

His body is getting heavier.

Mana gently placed his hand on Red’s head.

“Allen is…a very lonely dog in the circus. In the beginning…he didn’t know any tricks, and was treated as a burden…at that time, he was probably…very lonely.”

“What, that is…”

Isn’t that just like me—did that dog actually notice?

“After meeting you, Allen was very happy…”

Mana stretched out his hand shakily.

“But, don’t spread the tragedy anymore…”

“Mana…?”

Red watches Mana. “Tragedy…tra,gedy, is…”

Something is not right about him.

Mana is like a broken puppet, with broken speech.

His expression is rather blank.

It felt like something important had broken when he spoke—

Red is trapped by a scary thought—

That’s right, I…used this left hand to hit him many times.

Mana is covered in blood.

His head, unbelievably, is scattered with light shards.

“Red! Stop it right now!”

Hearing the Ringmaster’s voice, Red is jolted back to reality.

Two circus members heard the Ringmaster’s orders. They grabbed him and pulled him away forcefully.

The Ringmaster shouted orders as he left the tent.

“No! Mana! Mana…!”

He keeps his eyes on Mana as he is dragged away.

“Bring him to the animal cage!”

As Red was being bought out, Mana slowly opens his mouth.

“Tra…gedy…”

Followed by laughter.

“Will…attract…the Earl.”

Cheers from the audience could be heard from the stage which should not have been opened yet.

Cosmos, as well as the other performers who had been watching the commotion caused by Red, turned towards the stage.

Continuous clapping and cheering could be heard.

The wind blows the curtains apart and the performers can now see what was happening on stage. There were countless number of audiences and on the stage was a fat gentleman.

Sharp ears, large mouth and wearing a tall silk hat.

“Who is that guy…”

Cosmos takes a step forward.

“The first act should be done by me. I will to chase him out!”

Saying that, he ran out.

The gentleman used a cane adorned with a small pumpkin to tap on the ground, and bowed to the audience once he was done.

Following that, the audience in the stand turned into something short and fat. It looked like something out of this world, and was very terrifying.

“Wahhh!!”

The members screamed.

Mana, who had collapsed backstage, opened his eyes—and saw what was happening.

“Ah…”

The gentleman made eye contact with Mana, who was shaking due to fear, and smiled.

“…Ea,Earl…”

The customers, who had turned into monsters, shot blood bullets one after another.

On one side of the stage, the members collapsed as star shaped bruises appeared on them.

At this time, the red haired priest appeared in the circus tent.

“Che…as I suspected?

The man took out a gun with a intricate design, and said softly.

“Destroy them, Judgment!” ***

The sky had turned dark. After entering the storage, Red was pushed in front of the animal cage.

The two members kept a strong hold on Red, who had no more energy to resist.

From the cage, the sounds of the fierce carnivores can be heard. Not only was it angry from being kept in such a small cage, the commotion also made it more agitated than usual.

The air smells bad, like rotting fish.

If he entered the cage, he’ll be bitten to death for sure.

--Death?

In this sort of place?

Because of that insignificant person?

Then, what was I born for?

Red’s body started moving, partly from anger, as well as fear.

What is my purpose for existing?

Is it only to be killed, just like that?

He hears the cheers coming from the circus.

It is such a faraway reality now.

“Okay, get in!”

The Ringmaster’s cold voice shouts.

Red’s small body was easily thrown into the cage.

It is dark inside the cage.

But he could see the overwhelmingly large silhouette of the beast.

It’s tea coloured fur is swaying.

“Ah--”

Growll---

He hears the low roar from beside him.

--There’s no more hope.

Just as the beast opens it mouth, something breaks the cage and enters. It was a yellow round object, and it seems to have wings as well.

“Rawl!”

The beast let out a cry, and collapses, just like that.

“Wha--”

Red stared at the unbelievable change in events.

What just happened?

He stands up shakily. The thing with the yellow wings chewed through the metal bars, flew around the cage once and exited it.

Red leaves the cage, feeling nervous.

“--!”

The Ringmaster and the two members are on the ground.

Beside them was the red haired priest he had met during the day.

He seemed to be the one who finished them off.

“Why…”

The question is circling around in his mind.

As he approached, he realises that the priest’s breathing is a little irregular.

Why, is he here…

Just as Red is spacing out, he is suddenly punched in the face.

“You stinking brat…!!”

Red falls on the floor but quickly sits up in shock.

Did I do something?

Just as he thought that, he froze.

“--!”

A gun is suddenly pointed at his forehead.

Red breathes in sharply.

The priest approaches him, full of killing intent, Red could smell a lingering smell of cigarette smoke.

It was not like Cosmos, who had an unkind expression, or the Ringmaster, whose gaze held authority. It was really a gaze filled with killing intent.

Killing people, killing, after killing a lot of people, would a person obtain that sort of expression?

The eyes of the priest were filled with blood.

“I told you not to get close to Mana, didn’t I?”

This time, I will really get killed--

Just as he thought that, the priest’s face collided with something. It was a large impact.

It was that yellow thing, it threw the metal bar it was still holding on to.

“Tim!”

--What was that, this is? A living thing? Why would it save me?

“Che!”

The priest glares at Red, and kept the gun.

“I ran out of bullets.”

The reason did not explain anything.

The priest forcefully picks Red up, who had already turned stiff.

“Don’t forget, this is all because of you.”

Saying that, he released his hold roughly.

Red falls on the ground again.

“Disappear.”

He said that with a sigh, and disappears into the darkness together with the yellow thing.

Red could only stare at the darkness.

If I stay here, I will be killed—

He realises that, and runs away quickly.

He can’t stay in the circus anymore.

But he is still concerned about Mana.

What happened after that? He regrets leaving Mana there, this thought is tormenting him.

But Red remembers the priest’s words, but he wants to return to the circus.

What should I do… ***

The next morning, Red, who had wandered on the streets without a goal, returns to the circus without knowing how he got there.

He found the place surrounded by people.

What happened…where’s Mana…?

Red listens quietly to the voices of the people around him.

“Disappeared? That many performers?”

“Yeah, the Ringmaster and some of the other helpers are still around. The others have disappeared in one night. It seems like the performance cannot be held anymore.”

“!”

Red is shocked.

When he was locked inside the animal cage, he could still hear cheers coming from the tent.

I thought, the performers were still performing as usual---

That many members could disappear so quickly?

“And it seems like they didn’t run away. The clothes of the missing members are still around!”

“All the clothes all carry traces of being shot. And there were rumors that they were attacked, but there were no bodies…it really doesn’t make sense!”

“…what, really happened, even though it’s Christmas!”

Red silently left the chatting crowd in order to hide his expression.

His heart is beating very fast.

The missing members.

What happened after I was bought to the animal cage by the Ringmaster and the others?

Did Mana—disappear too?

Who was that red haired priest? Even though he’s a priest—but he still carries a gun, and has the smell of cigarettes on him.

And, he even wanted to kill me…

--don’t forget, it’s all because of you.

The words which the man wearing priest robes said echoed in his mind.

“Ah--!!”

Red shouted.

“Mana!”

Appearing from the crowd was Mana, wearing a rather dirty clown suit.

Just like yesterday, his head and face is covered in blood.

--You’re alright!

Mana took a look at Red and smiled.

“Where have you been , Allen?”

“Eh?”

Red stared at Mana, shocked.

“Mana?”

Allen is the dog’s name. And it was even a dead dog’s—

Mana did not notice Red’s feelings of uneasiness.

“Today is Christmas! Okay, let’s go to a different place!”

“Mana…? What’s wrong? I’m not Allen. Allen is…!”

Mana did not hear any of Red’s cries.

Instead he took Red’s hand and started walking.

“Right, where should we go next?”

“Instead of that, don’t you need to do something about your head wound?”

“Does Allen have a place he wants to go?”

“Mana!” Mana is very strange.

“Mana? Hey, Mana?”

“Hmm—where should we go? Strange, why, am I travelling?”

Mana tilts his head.

Red, hearing this unbelievable statement, froze entirely.

“You said…to look for your little brother…”

“Little brother?”

Mana stops walking all of a sudden.

“What’s that?”

Mana is smiling as usual, Red turned stiff.

--he had forgotten his motive for travel entirely.

Why?

Because I hit him too much?

--Don’t forget, this is all because of you.

The priest’s words hurt Red again.

Don’t tell me…it’s because of me? Because I hit him with this cursed hand many times…?

“I feel that…I’m looking for something really important.”

Mana is still smiling.

This tone of voice is even.

But his whole body is shaking.

He is sad.

Because he had lost his memory.

His hand, which is being held, can feel it.

“You’re looking for your little brother! Your little brother who was separated from you. Didn’t you say it, yesterday!”

Mana did not react. Only one night, and Mana had changed entirely.

Red stares at Mana with a helpless look.

Quietly, something white drifts down.

It’s snow—

From above the two of them, falling quietly, collecting on their bodies.

Snow, which can turn everything white—

“Mana…”

Mana, cannot revert back anymore.

He had this feeling.

Tears fall from Red’s eyes.

Mana stretches out his hand slowly.

“Don’t be sad…if you’re sad, the Earl will come.”

He says with an empty voice as he rubs away Red’s tears.

“Allen is really warm. And, strange? Why have you grown so big? And you don’t have a tail as well.”

He mixed me up with the dog.

Red had to admit while feeling totally hopeless.

Mana…

The person who was destroyed by me.

“Take me with you Mana. I’ll tell you, what you have forgotten…I’ll remember it for you….please. Take me with you…”

This is my reason for living.

Mana…playing in the snowy night with your dog, then going out to the streets with you yesterday, it was the first time I felt “happiness” together with someone else.

So, this time, it’s my turn.

To make you happy.

I will become your Allen. “We’ll be together always, Allen.”

Mana says innocently, these words hurt Red’s heart very much.

“…That’s true, we’ll always be together…”

Then Red and Mana walked towards the snow.

Always, the two of them, together.

This was the day Red, the young boy, became Allen.

Allen’s story will start from now on.

Meeting the priest again, travelling with a golem, becoming an Exorcist—that will be another story. ----------------------------------------------------------END--------------------------------------------------------------------

Afterword Hello everyone, this is Hoshino Katsura. This is the third volume of the awaited novel, the stories have some relation to the main story this time and both these stories were written by Kizaki-san. The one that gave me the most trouble while creating (laugh) is Mana and Allen’s story.

Allen’s past is still a total mystery, and was practically not talked about in the original work, and even the more mysterious Mana makes an appearance…it might be really great to turn it into a novel, I started working on it with such relaxed feelings, but~it was still really hard. Even though the meeting between Mana and Allen is a simple story, but in order to integrate more mysteries related to the original work, this time Kizaki-san suggested for the first time to produce a work with more structure and collaboration. This time, I felt really strongly, that I definitely would not become a novelist… (laugh)

It’s really too difficult to tell a story just using words. I really admire Kizaki-san a lot, she could craft my rough transcript into such a brilliant objective story. After so long, being able to work with Kizaki-san again made me feel so happy. And, to the Fan who is holding the book in your hand right now, I’m very thankful for your support. I work hard for everyone who has read the entire story, I’m happy if I’m able to make you feel some happiness as well. Then, I’ll see you next time.

Hello everyone, this is Kizaki Kaya. This is the third volume of the novel. To the old and new readers, thank you for picking up the book. This time is the story of Roufa as well as Allen and Mana.

Roufa’s story is about a maiden in love, I felt really happy while creating this piece! How should I write about Roufa’s romance next? (Even though I’m still writing the short story, but just asking that will cause my heart to beat faster)—I suggest you wait patiently for the stories in this volume. And Allen and Mana’s story has some connections to Allen and Mana’s story in the original series. In order to write this story, I re-read the original series, and felt some pain when I saw Allen’s smile and determination. I feel fortunate that I am able to show the D.Gray-man world to everyone in this fashion. Lastly, the acknowledgments. Hoshino-san, who has cared for me, thank you very much! Lastly, thank you to all the readers who have read this book. Some day in November 2010 Kizaki Kaya

——————————————END——————————————————————

@jjfole

@sweetestboi

#dgm #d. gray man #reverse novels #lost fragment of snow #lfos #lfs #translation #english #katsura hoshino #written #story #mun #maskedjoker

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secondratefiction · 6 years

Text

Smut Alphabet - Sweet Pea

Nobody asked for this, but I spent two days on it so I’m posting it anyway...

A=Aftercare (What they're like after sex)

• Sweets has a reputation, and it's not unwarranted, but there is something about you that just throws all of that right out the window. It always starts the same way, no matter how rough he may have been with you: Heavy breathing and small kisses against your shoulder or collarbone depending on if your facing towards or away from him, and stoking his thumb along your hip, back or stomach, wherever he happens to have a hold of you. Then, once he's able to actually focus on anything again, he's up, cleaning up, making sure your squared away and comfortable. Once you're taken care of, he'll fall back in beside you, hauling you into his chest and kiss the top your head, content to just relax for a little while longer, potentially (hopefully) even falling asleep with you warm against his side.

B=Body Part (Their favorite part of their partner's body)

• Your Thighs. Oh my god this boy is absolutely weak for them. He's obsessed... in his hands, around his waist, pressed against the sides of his head, all of it. Just all of it. Send help, he doesn't know what to do with himself.

You've developed a love hate relationship with summer and warm weather. On the one hand, your shorts drive Sweets absolutely mad and he can't seem to keep his hands off you. On the other hand, your shorts drive Sweets absolutely mad and you can't wear them for more than a day before they're marked up with so, so many hickeys and other love bites.

C=Cum (Anything to do with cum basically... I'm a disgusting person)

•The single fucking hottest thing he's ever seen was you pulling back after blowing him, sitting back on your heels, hair a mess, makeup smudged; positively, sinfully, debauched, and looking up at him with deceptively innocent eyes and traces of his cum at the corner of your mouth.

That image along getting him through more lonely nights than he'll admit to.

D=Dirty Secret

• It's buried so deep that even he doesn't acknowledge it, but there is a tiny piece of this boy that wants so badly to sub for you.

Once while you were riding him, you'd pushed his hands away from you, trying to take control. He humored you; and when you unconsciously pressed your hand against the base of his throat to steady yourself, he lost it. He honest to god whined, though he'll deny it to this day, and shortly after he came so hard he almost passed out on you.

E= Experience (How much do they have?)

• Experienced enough. It's not like there's some mile long laundry list of former flings, but he also wasn't above occasionally taking home one of the girls that had a habit of hanging off him at the pool tables.

F= Favorite Position

• Anything where he can pull you around to kiss him. Mostly facing him in some capacity, where he can grab a fistful of your hair, close to the scalp, and turn your head whatever way he wants it.

If not that then it's over the counter, the table the back of furniture, or against the wall. Basically anywhere that puts your ass out for him, where he can pin you down and plow away.

G= Goofy (How are they in the moment? Are they more serious or humorous?)

• Generally, Sweets tends to lean more towards the serious end of the spectrum, especially if you've made him jealous or caught him in a bad mood; but it's not like he's never laughed during sex. Especially if you two are purposely teasing and trying to rile the other up, you've had more than one occasion where sex somehow turned into a game of 'who can make the best sarcastic comment or innuendo before one of us comes.'

H= Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

• Decently? It's not like he's putting any great effort into it, but he's not just letting it go either. Some kind of low effort, easy middle ground.

I=Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect)

• Once again, it's one of those things that depends on what kind of a mood you happen to catch him in. If he's been under a lot of stress with Serpent business or god forbid another confrontation with the Bulldogs or even the Ghoulies, you're much more likely to get Sweets who's angry and frustrated and hasn't had a proper outlet for all the emotions.

On the other hand, there are some days he feels like he's hit bottom, like the only good thing he has going for him at all is you and there is literally no way he's ever going to be able to express how grateful and absolutely in love with you he is, but damned if he isn't going to try

J=Jack Off (Masturbation Headcanon)

• Given the choice, he'd 100% much rather be doing anything with you. Unfortunately, that's not always an option, and when it's not, he's still more than capable of taking care of himself.

Especially on long nights where you've been unable to stay over, he likes to draw things out. He's got a whole library of pretty images burned into his brain to draw from, as well as one very well hidden gallery on his phone of pictures and videos you've sent him to help with that.

K=Kink (One or more of their kinks)

• Size Kink - We all know this is a thing, but I don't see nearly enough people talk about it.

Dear god you just look so damn tiny stood next to him, let alone under him, and he's not entirely sure what to do with everything that stirs up.

• Dominance - Unpopular opinion: I don't see Sweet Pea falling into ??the specific category of "daddy kink". The boy is dominant and possessive af, but I think the line falls just short of the actual title of 'daddy'. I can see Sir though, and him calling you any number of pet names that absolutely should not sound that sinful.

L=Location (Favorite places to do the do)

• Honestly, he prefers back at his place, just because there's less chance of someone walking in or being interrupted in some other way.

M=Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

• You wearing his clothes, it’s cliche as hell and he kind of hates himself for enjoying it as much as he does, but he does nonetheless. Especially his leather jacket, the whole thing just seems to swallow you.

• Anytime he's walked out of the Wyrm, or anywhere else, to find you just sitting on his bike waiting for him.

• That look he catches you giving him anytime he's leaning across the pool tables to line up a shot, and he's not entirely sure if you're planning to fuck him senseless or eat him alive. But, with that look, he's good either way

N=No (Something they won't do, turn offs)

• Anything that could seriously harm you or cause more than momentary pain. Sweet Pea isn't exactly known for his gentle disposition, so of course he's rough with you sometimes: spanking, pulling and pushing you around, he almost seems obsessed with having his had wrapped around your throat. And yeah, that can leave bruises or sore muscles, but it's never been extreme, he's never been out to truly hurt you. The one time he thought he did, hyper extending your hip in the heat of the moment, he nearly had a panic attack and spent the next several days making it up to you.

Also, he's always been super careful not to actually choke you. Like I said, the boy loves putting his hand around your neck, but it's never been more than firm pressure for you to feel it while you breath in and out, or holding your head in place so you can't move it, but never going so far as to cut off your air.

O=Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

• Ok, yes, of course he likes receiving, c'mon, really, why would he ever say no to that? But in all honestly, if he could get away with it, he'd spend all day, every day between your thighs.

P=Pace (Fast and rough? Slow and sensual?)

• Depends on the mood you catch him in. Usually it falls more on the fast and rough side just because only seems to know how to work through his emotions physically. Not that you're complaining all that much.

Q=Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

• The amount of times this boy has snagged you in the hallway and dragged you off to an empty classroom or storage closet in the mornings or during lunch... It is some kind of miracle the two of you haven't been caught and suspended or expelled. And that's not accounting for the times he's pulled you out behind the Wyrm or off to a dark patch of forest out of view of the bond fire

So, yeah, it's safe to say he's a fan.

R=Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

• He doesn't really care much one way or the other. More or less the rule of thumb is if you're comfortable and want to do it, then he's all for it.

S=Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they usually last)

• Generally you'll go anywhere from one to three depending on the kind of time and other extenuating circumstances you guys have. There have been rare occasions where it's gone far beyond that, but those are the exceptions, not the rule

T=Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them?)

• Does he own any? No, not yet anyway. But he's not opposed to including them if you're interested.

U=Unfair (How much do they like to tease?)

• There is something about seeing you desperate and frustrated that just gets to him. He absolutely loves to drag it out as long as he possibly can, but he's also pretty good at reading the signs that he's going too far and needs to just back off and give you what you both want already.

V=Volume (How loud they are, what kind of noises do they make, etc.)

• Shockingly vocal, but surprisingly quiet. He's a not lout at all, but from the time the two of you really get started, until he comes, he almost never shuts up. Moans, groans, growls, the boy sounds like a damn animal, and that's not accounting for when he got his mouth pressed against your ear, muttering devious and immoral things.

W= Wild Card (Random headcanon)

• It seems like it should go without saying but this poor boy is so whipped it's almost pathetic. Behind the big, tough guy exterior, you've had him wrapped around your finger almost since day one.

X=X-Ray

• Technically, yes, he falls into the category of "well proportioned"... but, and let's be real for a minute, have you seen the proportions we're working with here?

Y=Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

• Before you, it was little to nonexistent, things cropped up once in a blue moon, but it wasn't like it was something he paid much attention to. After you... it's not like it's some crazy 180 turn around or anything, but it's still a lot more often than he's used to. As long as you're not complaining though, he's not going to worry about it too much.

Z=ZZZ... (How fast do they fall asleep afterwards?)

• After he's sure you're happy and squared away? Not that long at all. Once you're both cleaned up and he's got you tucked back against him. he's out within five to ten minutes and most likely not waking up for a while either.

#sweet pea #sweet pea x reader #sweet pea imagine #riverdale #riverdale imagines #fanfiction #imagines #reader insert #writing #smut alphabet #smut

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talesandfluff · 6 years

Note

Gelphie, 61?

Okay I have no excuse for this one. The prompt just reminded me of an extremely strong memory I have and no matter how hard I tried to find other ideas, I just couldn’t get them out. So I just wrote what I knew. First few paragraphs here, rest under the cut. It’s quite long (bout 2K words).

Some sort of modern AU, features Melena Thropp

61. Green wine bottles

It only takes one slip up from Boq, a brief accidental mention of Elphaba living with her mother for Glinda to become obsessed with the idea. How different than her own experience, whose parents supplied her an apartment in town with everything one might need to live on their own. It’s a novelty, a college student sharing a studio with her own mother in the very city she’s studying in, a quaint little picture in her mind. Every conversation is an excuse to try to pry an invitation home from Elphaba but the answer is a constant and firm no without a second thought. There is wheedling, all sorts of flattery, tricks and white lies, to no avail.

It takes a concourse of coincidences all in Glinda’s favor that make it happen. The college library closed for renovations, a group project with miscommunication on all parts that ended up having to be completed by the two of them for the next day, Glinda forgetting the books they needed in a friend’s room out for the weekend at the sorority house, the only spare copies are at Elphaba’s and the work has to be done.

“We’ll only be there for a few minutes,” Elphaba warns on the walk through the neighborhood she lives in − significantly distinct in class and status from Glinda’s, she notes with interest. “And you don’t need to come in.”

Glinda grabs her arm, leaning against her as they walk. Elphaba always tries to walk faster than she needs. Glinda always tries to slow her down.

“I know I don’t need to,” she says, squeezing Elphaba’s arm excitedly, “but I want to.”

Elphaba huffs and puffs. Glinda knows she might be pushing the limits, maybe even very close to the line of exasperation but then, there has never been anything she could do to put herself on the bad side of Elphaba’s good graces. A short visit to her home to satiate her curiosities can’t possibly change that.

The longer they walk, the more the skies seem to darken, though sunset is not for hours more. Maybe the buildings looming closer to one another, an older and less pristine part of town, street by street more downtrodden. In the distance, there’s shouts and a dog barking. Glinda is clutching Elphaba’s arm very tight indeed by the time Elphaba stops abruptly and dives in her pocket to get a heavy ring of keys out.

“This is me,” she announces.

She glances around worryingly, pulling Glinda to the side as she hurries to open the door. There’s a hole in the concrete wall that looks like it might have been from a gunshot. Glinda can’t help staring at it in awe and horror − she’s almost grateful for Elphaba dragging her inside if the entrance wasn’t just as appalling, half in ruins. The lights of the staircase are flickering, the stairs not cleaned in years, rotting wallpaper peeling off bit by bit. The air smells odd, something she can’t quite place and is not sure she wants to.

“Fourth floor,” Elphaba says. She holds herself differently in here, an even stricter restraint than the usual. “No elevator. This way.”

Glinda is made to walk up steep narrow stairs without even the reassurance of Elphaba leading the way − she insists on keeping an eye on Glinda as they make their way up. There seems to be danger lurking, suspicions about everything. At the third floor, Glinda spots an odd shadow in a corner and cries out, throwing herself into Elphaba’s arms before recognizing the shape as a large mutt napping on a puddle she would much rather not know the nature of.

“But Elphie, how can you…”

Elphaba’s face is immutable stone.

“It’ll just be a few minutes,” she repeats. Her purpose seems to have changed since they’ve walked inside, not so intent on just keeping her privacy anymore but rather guarding Glinda’s sensitivities. It might be too late for that, Glinda tells herself, noting a large hole in one of the apartment doors that might have been from some weapon. She nods at Elphaba, walking up the stairs again. A few minutes. She can handle that much.

At the fourth floor, Elphaba’s hand is suddenly at her shoulder, rubbing a soothing circle and looking her in the eyes as she speaks from very close, a whisper she’s afraid to let anybody hear.

“You’re staying in the hall,” she orders. “I’ll pick up the books and we’ll go back to your place to…” Her gaze wanders to a dirty brown door by the window. “Oh, what the shit!”

The hand is dropped as Elphaba takes giant leaps towards the door, fuming with anger for a reason unknown to Glinda. As soon as Elphaba’s back is to her, she tries to gather herself, hugging her sides. She wishes she could lean against a wall, make herself tiny and forgotten, but one glance at the state of the walls convinces her otherwise.

“I fucking told her,” Elphaba grumbles. “I’m sorry, just a sec.”

She starts to pick up a heap of what appears, despite the low light, to be trash bags. They clang against each other soundly as she paces past Glinda briskly to drop them down the chute at the end of the short corridor.

“I told her to not leave them there like a…” Banging on the door that appears to be hers, she starts shouting as she unlocks half a dozen locks in record time. “I told you not to leave the trash in the hall, for fuck’s sake!”

Some time and Elphaba disappears through the door, leaving it wide open. Glinda attempts a few steps towards it to catch a glimpse of the inside but a foreign voice speaks up and she freezes into place for fear of being caught.

“Oh, aren’t you the perfect homemaker. I was gonna get them.”

The sarcasm dripping in that voice, Glinda thinks she might have recognized Elphaba’s mother as such even without the context.

“Get them now,” Elphaba hisses. “I have to grab my books, Glinda’s waiting for me in the hall and she’s going to think we're…”

“Well don’t you let me mess with your date.” Glinda blushes and is thankful for no one to see it. “I have one of my own. Well, ‘date’, you know what I mean. Pass the setting spray, these wings are too good to rub off. Nanny visited, you know. Top drawer. She didn’t say anything about the trash, so I don’t know why you’re so butthurt about it… Anyway, I was just leaving.”

Quietly, Glinda tiptoes to the still gaping door, just in time to be face to face with the woman she so ardently craved to meet just minutes ago. She doesn’t know what she wants anymore. Melena Thropp is nothing she expected her to be, if she had any expectations at all. Long copper hair tied up in a bun, she’s wearing clothes that might have come from the closet of Glinda’s sorority sisters ten years ago, a loose neon pink crop top and tiny denim shorts, high heels Glinda wouldn’t know how to walk on. Though her eyes are tired and there’s something off in her gaze, her makeup is as good as promised. At least there is that. Much shorter than Elphaba, there would be no way to guess they were family if it weren’t for the sarcastic grin plastered on her face as she passes Glinda. She pinches her cheek on her way out.

“Oh, look at you, you pretty thing! You two have a great night, now.” To Elphaba still inside the apartment, she shouts back. “I’ll be late, frog, don’t worry about me!”

Glinda closes the mouth that had started gaping, straightens her spine. Melena hops down the stairs in a hurry, some thick cheap perfume trailing behind her. When Glinda turns back, Elphaba is leaning into the doorway severely.

“So, erm…” Glinda shuffles awkwardly. “Your mother seems…”

“She didn’t get the trash bags,” Elphaba cuts her rashly.

There’s an anger to her that wasn’t there before, or maybe Glinda didn’t notice it. She’s starting to wonder how many things she never realized about Elphaba. The tension surrounding her, the scowl she tries to hide… She seems much too hasty to get all the trash down the chute, so much so that, in her hurry to haul it, one of the bag bursts open and a cascade of glass bottles crash down onto the floor, rolling in every direction.

“Fucking sh… crap… Fuck.”

Elphaba drops to her knees, her head between her hand. Glinda rushes to help and though by the tensing of Elphaba’s shoulders, the stern glance she gives her, she knows the help is not entirely welcome, she gives it nonetheless. The first bottle she grabs is green and heavy, the cork pushed halfway down, some last red drops still swishing at the bottom. So is the second one, and the third, so many bottles. She wonders how long they’ve been there, how long it took for them to be consumed. It’s not for her to know, though. She puts them down next to Elphaba who in all this mess hasn’t moved an inch. Suddenly she leaps to her feet, paying Glinda no glance. She disappears in the apartment a minute, comes back with a new bag and one by one, they pile all the bottles down.

“I thought these had a deposit value…”

“Don’t wanna go back to the store with 'em,” Elphaba mutters. “I shouldn’t be the one doing it anyways.” She ties the bag handles close and shoves it down the chute with a particular harshness.

Glinda breathes and gathers the courage to grab Elphaba’s hand, but it is quickly dropped as if Elphaba had been burned.

“I’ll get the books,” she says. “You… You can come in a second. If you want.”

“That sounds nice,” Glinda smiles.

The inside of the apartment is almost a relief compared to the grimness of the rest of the building. There is dust, though less than the sickening layer shrouding the stairs, but there are attempts at some order. In a corner, there’s a twin bed with rumpled covers and the sofa near the only window of the room is slept in as well. Judging by the piles of books on the coffee table nearby, the small potted plant blooming there despite everything, there is no guessing which is Elphaba’s bedding. The sink is filled to the brim with dirty dishes and littering the floor of the kitchen corner are even more green glass bottles, some of them empty, some not. Glinda sits down in an old leather armchair that has a slash across the arm rest, revealing foam underneath.

“Let me just…”

Elphaba grabs yet another bag, quickly shoving the mess into it, glass clanging against glass, hiding it away as if Glinda hadn’t seen it all, as if stashing it into a bag would make the rest of it disappear. Glinda looks down, taps against her knees. Maybe if she pretends she’s not seeing anything, it will go away. Elphaba can fuss all she wants if it pleases her, if it soothes her. Soon it’s the textbooks she’s after.

“I put them somewhere under…” Elphaba picks up some books, searching through the piles before pulling them up victoriously. “Ah ha!”

Glinda smiles. It’s good to feel Elphaba quiet down even for such a small thing. There’s a fondness blossoming inside her that she’s not sure she knew before. Maybe it was always there.

“Are we ready to go?” She asks.

Elphaba meets her eyes for the first time, some unknown doubt in them. Glinda didn’t know that either, that Elphaba could be anything other than strong and stubborn.

“Yeah, just let me…”

She opens the top drawer of a small dresser and grabs an envelope from it. With a skinny thumb, she counts its content once, twice, pulls a face and shoves the whole thing into her bag.

“We’re ready to go.”

The way down has Glinda much more relaxed, knowing Elphaba is at her back, but she’s glad for the dark blue sky outside. The air of the evening smells fresh and clean even in the city. Stars are slowly starting to appear.

“My place?”

Elphaba nods. Glinda wishes she had something to say, a kindness to share, but the words come short. She settles for grabbing Elphaba’s hand, their fingers interlacing, palms meeting. Elphaba squints in confusion. Glinda smiles and squeezes the hand gently. And Elphaba squeezes it back.

#gelphie #wicked #fanfiction #writing #glinda upland #elphaba thropp #melena thropp #cw alcoholism #tacticalgrandma

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artificialqueens · 6 years

Text

Twist Of Fate - Ch04 - (Trixya) - katyahzamo

A/N: Trixie and Katya are finally reunited. All future chapters will take place in the present, unless indicated otherwise. What’s going to happen next?

A reminder: Trixie is a hairdresser and Katya is a struggling photographer slash yoga instructor. Lesbian AU. Read the chapters on AO3 and/or come hang out on my tumblr katyahzamo!

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Katya hears herself laugh, but her eyes look for tiny changes in Trixie’s appearance, and the longer she looks the more she sees. She’s as tall as ever, slightly towering over Katya, but the dress, taut and pink, hugs her body differently. Trixie’s lost a bit of weight, her waist much smaller than the last time Katya has seen her, but her curves are still there, hips wide and thighs strong enough to break Katya’s neck if they so wished, shaping her into a perfect hourglass figure. Barbie who?

July 2018

Trixie is right there, and Katya is already on her feet, realizing she looks like a dumbass with her wet hair, lipstick smudged but not as bad as her glasses, the towel previously around her shoulders discarded on the floor somewhere. She feels like the kid who got caught red-handed, though she is not sure what exactly she feels startled about.

The soft look on Trixie’s face makes it worse, and now Katya is sure that she has stepped into a time machine that took her back to 2016.

“You look terrible.”

Trixie is the one who speaks again, expert at re-routing Katya’s overworked brain, hauling her thoughts back into present, making her terribly self-conscious of how much of a mess she looks like.

“Thanks, it’s the new look I’m trying. Hobo chic.”

A pair of arms finds her bony shoulders and pulls her into a hug, and Katya can’t remember the last time she felt this stupefied. The closest thing was the night Sharon told her she’s moving out, and even then Katya’s limbs worked properly, pacing around their tiny apartment with an unlit cigarette in her hands, trying to fix the shitstorm their relationship has become at that point in time. It didn’t really help. Obviously.

Thankfully it seems that her body has a mind of its own and reacts instinctively, because she is hugging Trixie back, holding her tightly for two long moments.

“You’re wearing glasses.”

It’s a statement, not a question, which comes from Trixie once they pull back. Katya’s still holding onto Trixie’s hand that she squeezes before letting go.

“Old age finally caught up to me. I’m almost as blind as a bat now.”

“Fitting, because you definitely look like one.”

Katya hears herself laugh, but her eyes look for tiny changes in Trixie’s appearance, and the longer she looks the more she sees. She’s as tall as ever, slightly towering over Katya, but the dress, taut and pink, hugs her body differently. Trixie’s lost a bit of weight, her waist much smaller than the last time Katya has seen her, but her curves are still there, hips wide and thighs strong enough to break Katya’s neck if they so wished, shaping her into a perfect hourglass figure. Barbie who?

Katya’s staring, pale blue eyes flitting over from Trixie’s hips to her face, softer makeup and round cheeks that seemed to have lost some of their youthful chubbiness.

She’s as beautiful as ever.

“You look amazing.” Katya says, and Kim snorts from behind them, not even trying to pretend she wasn’t watching this exchange carefully. Trixie rolls her eyes at the sound, but the smile doesn’t disappear when she speaks again.

“Thanks. I give myself two weeks in Boston before I’m back to being the white American trash.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, you never stopped being one.” Kim chirps and Trixie shoots her another look through her laughter before motioning to the chair where Katya was sitting.

Latrice is quick to suggest Trixie cuts Katya’s hair soon after, and it’s not long before Katya’s in front of the mirror again, eyes glued to Trixie. Luckily enough the other girls seem to have returned to their work, though the blonde one, Brianna, still throws curious glances their way, making Katya think she knows something that even Katya doesn’t. Either that, or Katya’s overthinking it again, which is a more likely scenario.

“When did you come back?” She’s happy that her voice is back to its usual, raspy self, feeling comfortable as soon as Trixie’s fingers start combing through her wet hair, studying it like a sculptor was to examine a piece she hasn’t worked on in a long time.

“Oh just last week. I barely had time to look for an apartment, and I feel like Kim’s about to throw me out from her couch if I don’t get moving soon.”

“Wait… so you’re staying? For good?”

Katya must have a hopeful look on her face because Trixie is grinning at her in the mirror, smoothing out blonde strands down Katya’s front after she’s taken off the glasses that rest in Katya’s fidgeting fingers.

“Oh yeah, I’ve had enough of Europe.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.” She says, shrugging, both hands stopping on Katya’s shoulders, feeling warm even through the cape and the towel, burning Katya’s skin, “It was either leaving Germany for another European country, or returning here. None of the cities I visited felt like home enough so I figured coming back would be best, you know?”

“Oh yeah, I get that.”

“And I learned some cool stuff over there, so bringing it here makes my work more unique. If I stayed there, I’ve been doing the same thing everyone else does. Here- not so much.”

“So you came back to be a fancy European hairdresser in the middle of Boston.”

“Basically, yes.”

They both laugh and Katya closes her eyes when Trixie’s fingers find her scalp, splitting her hair down the middle.

“You grew out your bangs.” Trixie says, and only then do her eyes open again.

“Yeah, they didn’t know how to cut them the way you did so this was easier.”

“I told you not to go to Tammie before I left, Katya.”

“I didn’t come here actually, I cut my hair closer to where I work.”

“So Kim wasn’t joking when she said you haven’t been here since I left?”

“Nope.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Trixie digs through the drawer for a pair of scissors like Katya has seen her do a million times before, and smiles to herself.

“Do you want me to cut them again?”

“Yes, make me look like that Atomic Bland Charlize Theron fantasy.”

Trixie’s shrieking laughter is louder than Katya remembers it, and it makes her laugh just as much as it always did.

“Okay Katya, one Atomic Bland haircut coming right up.”

Katya stays around the salon even after her hair is done, since apparently Trixie isn’t back working at the Honey just yet, and officially starts Monday. It gives them time to go outside once the storm has passed, Katya smoking a cigarette and Trixie scrunching her nose at the smell.

“Anything new happening in Boston?”

A cloud of smoke puffs through Katya’s nostrils and she looks over at Trixie who’s leaned on the wall, watching her.

“No, not really. I don’t go out much, between yoga classes and working on my new portfolio, I barely have time for socializing.”

“Is Violet still around?”

“Oh yeah, she’s working at a modeling agency up north. She’s the one I bother when I need new portraits, and you know how much Violet loves having her photos taken.”

Trixie nods, and checks the phone that buzzes twice. Whatever it is on there, it makes her smile and suddenly Katya’s curious. It doesn’t last long because Trixie’s eyes are on her again, head tilted.

“So you’re finally chasing your photography dreams?”

“Yeah, figured now’s the good as time as any. I have a steady income from yoga and couple of photography gigs, so I started taking classes. I’m saving up for a new camera but I have to find a more affordable apartment now. Violet’s been offering we move in together, but I’ll see.”

The last sentence makes Trixie stand a bit straighter, and her teeth catch her bottom lip as if she’s deciding if it’s any of her business. Katya knows what the question is before Trixie can say it.

“What about Sharon?”

“Oh, that’s… we broke up. Six months ago.”

“Aw. I’m sorry, Katya.”

“No, it’s okay. It’s been a long time coming.”

Trixie still look sorry, and also looks like she’s about to reach out to touch Katya’s arm, but her phone buzzes and distracts her again. Katya says nothing but watches her instead, taking another drag of her cigarette.

“Anyway, there’s this club that my friend Craig works at, recently opened. Do you have any plans tonight? Maybe we can go, old times’ sake?”

Katya’s surprised how easily it comes out, even a little proud of herself. Her relationship with Sharon has destroyed her self-image, which she only became aware of months after break-up, and has to work on to this day. Ginger has suggested a therapist in those first couple of weeks, but Katya is yet to find a person she could open up to without feeling like crawling out of her skin.

“That sounds great Katya, but I can’t tonight.”

Oh.

“I already made plans with some of the people here, and Bob’s going to kill me if I don’t call him up while he’s here. Raincheck?”

There is no reason for disappointment that tugs at her insides, Katya thinks, so she’s nodding and stubbing out her cigarette, pushing her glasses up her nose and finally exhales, smiling.

“Raincheck.”

Her temporary apartment is maybe half the size of her and Sharon’s old one, but feels empty even with shelves full of books and boxes of old clothes Katya has no interest or time unpacking. It seems even emptier without Salem, the little cat they adopted from the shelter together. Sharon went to live with her parents and they both agreed the cat would have a more stable life living in one place with two other cats Sharon’s parents owned. It was definitely better than being left alone with Sharon traveling all the time and Katya too. Katya had every intention of traveling around the country and taking up photography jobs as soon as her class is done and she has saved up a little.

Traveling seems like a distant future now, when she hops into the shower, and wishes she at least had the cat to keep her company, instead of half-eaten Chinese on the coffee table in front of the TV and Netflix playing FRIENDS reruns for the umpteenth time.

It’s past nine pm when she’s done looking through and editing the latest photos she’s taken of Violet. She looks stunning and reminds her of Dita Von Teese just to the right extent, which was the ultimate goal during the photoshoot they had the week before. Katya plops down on the worn out couch and props her feet on the coffee table, flexing her sore thighs from the intense yoga workout that morning and sends her favorite shots to Violet for feedback.

She finds herself opening Tinder as she takes a sip of the flat coke left over from that morning, scrunching her nose at the aftertaste it leaves in her mouth, scrolling lazily through newest messages without opening any of them. Every girl that pops up on the app is swiped left, as Katya barely pays attention to how they look or what they’ve written. It seems as if she’s looking for something - someone, and she pauses for a few seconds over every blonde with thick long hair and big tits.

Would Trixie even have Tinder? Katya thinks as big IT’S A MATCH! flashes across her screen and she does absolutely nothing about. Trixie never talked about her love life in the first place, never mentioning any exes or her dating life. Katya knows she’s gay, but that’s about it. If Trixie found anyone in Germany – she wouldn’t have come back, would she? She didn’t mention anyone while cutting Katya’s hair or while standing with Katya outside of the salon while she smoked.

Why does Katya care if Trixie is single, anyway? It’s a thought that crosses her mind, but she doesn’t need to dig too deep to get the answer. She’s aware now, two years later, that she’s always had a small crush on her gorgeous, blonde hairdresser with the best sense of humor in the world. When she was with Sharon it was something she never wanted to admit to herself, but now… Her stomach flips at the possibility since Trixie is back. It’s probably just wishful thinking and boredom speaking, anyway.

Another message arrives on Tinder and she closes the app with a huff, opening Instagram instead. She has followed Trixie for a while now there, but aside from several landscape or animal photos from two years ago, she wasn’t on there at all. Twenty-seven notifications catch her attention and she thinks it’s probably people liking her latest headshot of Violet, and some of them are.

trixie.mattel liked your post

trixie.mattel, pin.up_dolls and 18 others started following you.

Katya blinks at the screen and notices that she is grinning, wondering how Trixie found her profile in the first place. She taps the username and finds that Trixie has a new profile, not the one that Katya was following, and this one is filled with photos from Trixie’s life in Europe. This Instagram is full of Berlin’s architecture, different foods, different faces of beautiful girls whose makeup and hair Trixie did, and only a handful of those with Trixie’s face. Katya finds out that Bob has visited Trixie in Berlin at least once, Tammie and Kim too, and suddenly wishes she could have done the same.

Her finger hovers over the Follow Back button only for a split second before she clicks it, then goes back to see that all the photos Trixie liked were not of Violet or any of the other models, but of Katya’s selfies, Salem and one of Katya by the pool, taken by Sharon over a year ago, standing in chakrasana pose.

Katya’s palms are sweaty when she closes instagram to breathe, then goes on Facebook to find three notifications:

Honey Salon tagged you in a post.

Violet Chachki, Ginger Minj and 75 other people reacted to a photo you are tagged in.

1 friend request: Trixie Mattel

The photo is of her new Atomic Bland haircut, taken by the new girl with blue-green hair (whose name Katya forgot) as soon as Trixie was done earlier today. It looks amazing. There are no comments under it, but that’s where Trixie must have found her. She accepts the friend request and scrolls through Trixie’s profile, the only post from the past two months a check in to Boston Logan Airport a week before. Her stomach makes several somersaults when she goes through Trixie’s profile photos, the latest one in front of the Berlin Wall taken in August 2017, and likes it before she can overthink.

Ding.

Katya feels butterflies explode in her stomach as she gets a Messenger notification and sees Trixie’s photo pop up. She immediately gets up, walks over to her small fridge, gets a new can of Coke, her spare pack of cigarettes, and sits next to the kitchen window so she can smoke. She is shit at texting, that much is sure. Would she and Trixie have things to talk about? Why is Trixie messaging her, didn’t she have plans tonight, why—

You and Trixie Mattel are now connected on Messenger. Wave to say hello!

Katya takes off her glasses and pinches the bridge of her nose, then rubs her eyes and with a groan realizes she still has some eyeshadow and mascara residue from the day. She is definitely ready for bed, so she smokes quickly, Messenger still open when she stubs out the cigarette and closes the window so the AC can make the hot summer night a bit more bearable. Her finger slips while she brushes her teeth, and Katya stares at the little You waved at Trixie!, feeling like a teenage boy not knowing what to do about his first crush on the pretty girl from his class. Nothing happens even after she climbs gets into her queen sized bed, the only piece of furniture left from her and Sharon’s life. She tries to mentally will Trixie to do something, at least message her first but Trixie must be still out at this hour on a Saturday night.

Katya doesn’t know when she fell asleep, and the phone she held in her hand slipped and fell on the floor sometime during the night. She wakes up with a start some nine hours later, past 7:30am, woken up by the sunlight peeking through the heavy curtains. Her freshly cut short hair is sticking in all directions and clinging to her sweaty neck when she gets into the shower. It’s only halfway through her second cigarette and half a cup of coffee that she’s awake enough to remember what happened the night before. Fumbling through the discarded clothes on the floor, Katya pulls out her phone to find many instagram notifications and texts from Violet, before she opens Messenger with a little (1) next to Trixie’s photo.

You and Trixie waved at each other!

There are no notifications from Trixie for the rest of the Sunday, or the first half of the following week. Katya does nothing to message first, either, torn between being busy with photography classes, work, and worry that she’d make a complete ass of herself in front of Trixie. She has no idea how to flirt anymore, having been in a relationship for such a long time. All of her Tinder hookups did not involve a lot of talking, and Katya used it mostly to relieve the pent up frustration not even yoga or running could get out of her system. How young people get into relationships with only a set of emojis and snapchat exchanges these days, she has no idea. Even though she is only in her early 30s, Katya feels ancient.

It’s not like she doesn’t have the ability to flirt, either, since her and Trixie’s banter felt organic even when she was nervous around her, but Katya being Katya, is worried she’d get too overbearing too soon for Trixie. They are both different people than they were two years ago, so she has no idea if they would hit it off as well as they used to, when Katya was still taken and Trixie was leaving for another continent. Talk about bad timing.

The situation, though more simple now, is also complicated because what if Trixie turns her down and she is never able to step her foot into Honey again, after just getting her favorite hairdresser back? Or what if she doesn’t turn her down but then Katya is such a fuck up she disappoints Trixie, which would result in the same scenario of Katya having to find another place to cut her hair in again?

It’s a bit easier to focus on the present instead of ‘what ifs’ four days later while she’s sitting in a park several blocks away from her apartment on a warm Wednesday afternoon. She’s working on her photography Facebook and Instagram pages for homework, laptop balancing on her knees and Subway sandwich half-forgotten on the bench beside her. Her browser shows twenty-five tabs open and Katya can feel the sweat forming on her forehead despite the shade and the light breeze, wondering when the rainfall would start today and force her to go into one of the nearby cafés. It always got unbearably humid right before the storm, and every single day this week has been the same.

One of her tabs pings a facebook notification. Katya hopes it’s more people responding to her page invitation and she quickly pulls it up it to check. Instead of people liking her page, she’s gotten an invitation for an event happening in Boston that Friday. It’s from Trixie.

DJ PEARL LIAISON joins the lineup for the biggest LGBTQIA+ party in town! Bring your friends! All ticket proceedings will go to raising HIV awareness and fund housing of youth living with AIDS!

Trixie Mattel is going. Violet and 3 other friends are interested in this event.

Katya stares at her name and wonders whether this is a mass invitation Trixie has sent, or if it’s a personal thing, an attempt to connect with Katya without making it awkward? But Trixie isn’t awkward at all, Katya thinks, Trixie is always open and loud and says what she thinks. Katya’s not breathing as she opens the messenger app, deciding to do a second daring thing within seven days. Talk about living dangerously. She vehemently ignores the dumb ‘wave’ exchange and types before her overthinking mind can stop her.

Katya Zamolodchikova: Hey Tracy, ‘sup?

Katya Zamolodchikova: I saw the invitation you just sent

Katya Zamolodchikova: Are you going?

Okay, that wasn’t painful at all, Katya thinks as she hurriedly switches the tab and goes back to looking at designs she’d use for her business card. The messenger notification is instant, the little ding going off on her phone and browser at the same time.

Trixie Mattel: Katie! thought you’d never ask ;)

Katya watches the dots hopping in the chat window, painfully aware that Trixie is calling her out on this radio silence ever since they connected on social media.

Trixie Mattel: Yeah, a bunch of people I know are going :D :D :D

Trixie Mattel: Do you want to come? :)

The excess use of emojis makes Katya laugh, but she replies immediately.

Katya Zamolodchikova: Sure!

Trixie Mattel: Great, I saw Violet’s interested too, bring her along :D

Katya sighs, staring at the message. If Trixie wants her to bring a friend, this can’t be a date. But, why is she thinking about dates? For all she knows, Trixie is just being nice and is excited to be in contact with her again. As a friend. Maybe it’s better that Katya brings Violet, after all, since Trixie mentioned a bunch of people and Katya is anything but comfortable being in a group where she only knows one person.

Katya Zamolodchikova: Violet probably knows this entire lineup, so I’m sure she’ll go. We’ll be there.

Katya Zamolodchikova: :D :) :D

Trixie Mattel: Great! see you Friday, Zamo :* :* :*

Katya Zamolodchikova: See ya!

Katya Zamolodchikova : :*

Katya is about to log out of Facebook immediately, deciding it would be best to leave the pages for tomorrow, knowing she will not be able to focus fully on task at hand now. She’ll be seeing Trixie, again, in a casual setting after almost two years. There will be dancing, and drinks, and Violet will probably be busy with pretty girls flocking to her, so anything could happen. She feels her excitement beat against her ribcage, and when another notification comes, she can feel it in the tips of her fingers too.

Trixie Mattel: Btw, give me your number so we can find each other easily on Friday?

Trixie Mattel: We’ll be there around 11:00pm

As Katya sends her phone number to Trixie and packs her laptop and sandwich, she looks towards the dark clouds that are gathering and smiles. Things might be looking up after all.

#trixie mattel #katya zamolodchikova #trixya #trixya fic #katyahzamo #lesbian au #cisgirl au #slow burn #mutual pining #rpdr fanfiction #twist of fate

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