#ODORA NIGHT

[raybyanothername]

A Week in Odora - Day One - Part Two

It was 7 a.m. when the sheriff walked into his office to find a blonde woman wearing green suspenders and plaid capris sitting in his chair with her feet propped up on the desk.

“Hello, Sheriff!” Eleanora smiled big, cheeks pink from the effort. She’d come in early to catch Emmett Jones offhanded before word could spread that she was here. Given the narrowed eyes he was leveling on her, she had succeeded.

“Who are you?” The sheriff’s hands moved to his hips and his eyes scrunched up into a glare.

Eleanora’s cheeks officially hurt, “Name’s Bond. Eleanora Bond.”

His hand twitched towards his gun, but he didn’t touch it. Eleanora’s smile softened. Here she was sitting in his chair, in his locked office, and he didn’t pull a gun. She appreciated that sort of restraint in law enforcement.

“I’d like an honest answer.” He forced a smile. A very tense smile. Even his molars were showing. He had very white teeth.

“Who’s your dentist?” Eleanora asked.

His eyes fluttered for a second before closing. He took a breath. The worry lines on his forehead smoothed out, “Ma’am.”

“Eleanora Bond is my real name, Sheriff Jones.” She swung her feet off his desk and stood. She gave him her card, “I’m here on behalf of the Davies family to investigate the death of Oriana.”

Watching a six-foot-two-inches former defensive tackle scrunch up his nose at her pink card was the highlight of Eleanora’s day. Nothing would top it, she was sure.

“And why is a P.I. from Nashville looking into a death in Odora?” Eyebrows were raised, eyebrows were lowered. The sheriff couldn’t seem to decide what to do with them. “A death that only occurred two days ago at that.”

“Three, technically,” Eleanora sat on the front edge of his desk. “She was found the day before yesterday, but she was murdered Tuesday night. It’s Friday.” She held up three fingers and wiggled them.

The sheriff took another breath, huffing out a sigh like it physically pained him. “Ms. Bond – “

“I have at thing for brunettes,” Eleanora interrupted him again. Her lips spread wide again. “That’s why I’m here.” She continued to grin at the confusion on his face. “My girl, Sera, she’s Domi’s best friend.”

One eye twitched at Sera’s name. His lips pursed. “So… you’re one of those…uh…” Eleanora raised one of her brows as she waited from him to finish that sentence.

“Lesbians, dad.” A voice cut through the air with sarcastic glee. It was quickly followed by the appearance of a teenage boy with floppy red hair and an even floppier baseball cap. “They’re called lesbians, and don’t be an ass.”

Eleanora perked up as the kid lifted an arm to rest on his father’s shoulder. The sheriff’s shoulders lowered. The teen was shorter than his father and had a bit of baby face, but Eleanora could see Emmett’s angular jaw line and crooked nose in the boy.

“Right,” the sheriff cleared his throat, “Sorry.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I suppose that makes sense. Domi probably doesn’t have much confidence in me – given our history.”

“I think she just doesn’t like you,” the kid drawled, grinning wider than even Eleanora at this point. “That’s what mom says. Said you got all weird about her when you were kids and she decked you.”

Eleanora watched the sheriff take a breath, long and slow, before kicking his son out of the room. She waited till he turned back around to speak, “I like him.”

“I suppose someone has to…” the sheriff mumbled under his breath, but his eyes crinkled as he said it. Eleanora dropped from his desk. He startled back a step, “Ms. Bond – “

“Eleanora is fine, Sheriff.” She smiled at him, patted his shoulder on her way to the door. “I just came by to introduce myself. I know how small towns can be about new people.”

She winked at the teenager pouting at the deputy’s desk. The kid perked up and Eleanora felt his satisfaction trailing after her as she left the office. It was a bubbly bit of emotion that buoyed her through the Davies house until she got to the sanctuary of her room.

It had been 36 hours since she’d last slept. She’d wrapped up a stake out just before she got the call from Sera.

“Nap time.” Eleanora hung her shirt and pants up before she dropped back onto the bed – stockings have the good sense not to wrinkle.

Eleanora pressed her fingers into the felted fiber of the blanket beneath her. The blanket scratched at her skin as Eleanora rubbed her arms back and forth. The back of her arms grew redder with each pass.

Her eyes focused in on the ceiling above here. Her pupils spun and her arms paused as she began to pick out the individual strokes in the white paint.

A faint voice needled at the edge of her conscious mind, but it faded as the paint strokes began to glow across the ceiling. They danced across her vision. Shifting like fault lines cracking over the plaster.

Eleanora didn’t shift an inch until a familiar beeping drew her up. She stretched her arms up – ignored the cracking of her joints as they protested – and stood.

Emmett Jones was officially surprising.

He’d texted Eleanora. He and his deputy would be chatting with Oriana’s boyfriend that afternoon. Eleanora glanced up to the corner of her phone. 1 p.m. stared back at her.

When she sent her agreement to attend the sheriff responded promptly with an address. Eleanora was not going to pass up on the good will, even if it did interrupt her nap.

-.-.-

The next part is up on my patreon. You can also support me over on ko-fi

#ray writes #original fiction #horror #psychological fiction #mystery #murder mystery #thriller #celestials #supernatural creatures #magic #a week in odora

[lyricsmiliyah]

[Romanized] BAD CHASING feat. ShowyRENZO

Atama ni kuru nan'na no Katte ni shite mata maigo I DON'T KNOW darui BAD HABIT Kigen shidai katte de Naughty Bakarashii kuruoshii Ai rashii sore ga ii Itsuka sono hi wa kieru no? BURNING BURNING LOVE BURNING BURNING LOVE

GO AWAY　Suki ni sasete Kai narasarete asobi mo shite NO WAY　Koro ga sareteru You de koro ga sareteru no wa dotchi? GO AWAY　Warui tomo ni Odora sarete amai mitsu sui tte NO WAY　Itsu made CHASE Atashi son'na hima janai yay yay

ETERNAL FLAME marude PLAY I DON'T KNOW WHERE TO GO BAD CHASING ETERNAL FLAME marude PLAY NEVER LET YOU GO BAD CHASING ETERNAL FLAME marude PLAY I DON'T KNOW WHERE TO GO BAD CHASING ETERNAL FLAME kimi wa SLY NEVER LET YOU GO NEVER LET YOU GO

Ima no ore wa lost　Ima no ore wa lost Omoidasu kimi to no chu BAD CHASING I can't follow no U Demo hontou wa I do this things to u Demo hontou wa　Eien tte kotobanai B※※※h ,Good Night I got jimmy choo no bag she got pink pink pink no version prr prr narasu my phone Ima wa dere ne BAD CHASING　Oikake ne Dream CHASING studio de Go away　Suki ni sasete Suki na koto dake Run it back Mukashi no you ni Futari deaenai you ni Sareteru no kamo shirenai konoyo ni Demo kono love wa True da yo hontou ni Ima wa ima wa iya ima wa ima wa iya ima wa ima wa iya Demo I love u a lot Ima wa ima wa iya ima wa ima wa iya ima wa ima wa iya Demo I love u a lot

ETERNAL FLAME marude PLAY I DON'T KNOW WHERE TO GO BAD CHASING ETERNAL FLAME marude PLAY NEVER LET YOU GO BAD CHASING ETERNAL FLAME marude PLAY I DON'T KNOW WHERE TO GO BAD CHASING ETERNAL FLAME kimi wa SLY NEVER LET YOU GO NEVER LET YOU GO

GO AWAY Anji kaketeru GO AWAY Kanchigai shiteru NO WAY Anji kaketeru NO WAY Kanchigai shiteru BETTER BE ALRIGHT BETTER BE ALRIGHT NEVER BE APART NEVER BE APART BETTER BE ALRIGHT BETTER BE ALRIGHT NEVER BE APART NEVER BE APART

ETERNAL FLAME marude PLAY I DON'T KNOW WHERE TO GO BAD CHASING ETERNAL FLAME marude PLAY NEVER LET YOU GO BAD CHASING ETERNAL FLAME marude PLAY I DON'T KNOW WHERE TO GO BAD CHASING ETERNAL FLAME kimi wa SLY NEVER LET YOU GO NEVER LET YOU GO

You call me baby one more time Mata futari kanjitai You call me baby one more time Mata futari kanjitai

  Credit : lyricsmiliyah.tumblr.com

#BAD CHASING #BLONDE16 #Miliyah #ShowyRENZO

[parsley-sage-rosemary-n-thyme]

July for Loki using 30 Days of Deity Devotion prompts, Day 20 • Art that reminds you of Loki

Very tough choice, as there is a lot of excellent art that reminds me of Loki, both dedicated to him or not. Among all the spectacular pieces out there, I chose this picture called Ginger Trickster by erebus-odora on DeviantArt for a particular reason. It’s the closest portrait of Loki as he appeared to me the first time he showed his face (at least that I can remember of), between 2011 and 2012. I was perfectly aware that it was him, though he chose Tom Hiddleston’s face. Yeah, yeah, silly fangirl projecting pagan fantasies on an actor, right? Wrong. Because when you’re in the presence of a deity, you can FEEL their energy, no matter what face they choose. Btw, later on I discovered, talking with other people too, that Loki does enjoy Tom’s portrayal of his MCU version, so I guess it’s no wonder that he chose a similar aspect to show up to me that night. And he had flowing red/cinnamon hair, bright yet dark green eyes, lips with scars from the accident with the Dwarves, just like this picture. So, of course my heart skips a beat everytime I see this wonderful piece of art. And I know there’s lots of prejudice, lots of people thinking that lokeans enjoying MCU Loki along with being devoted to the god Loki are just fakes, wannabes or whatever; this post is especially dedicated to them and to the people who were victims of such prejudice. If my experience is worth anything, and I hope it is (otherwise I don’t know why I’m writing this stuff out here), that’s just not true. Some people may daydream of having spiritual experiences when they’re just not, projecting their own fantasies into those unreal experiences, yes. But just because a deity shows up in a modern or even fancy aspect, it doesn’t mean the experience is faux. Each of us is the only one that knows which deity is talking to them, deep down inside we can feel it. And no one can tell others what is right or what is wrong, or how a deity should manifest or not. So, the moral of this post is, nevermind the bollocks. Which, incidentally, is a great lesson Loki loves to teach to his devotees.

Art: Ginger Trickster by erebus-odora on DeviantArt

#loki #lokadottir #lokabrenna #july for loki #30 days of deity devotion #beautiful art #oh i love this #this speaks to my soul

[8-4official-blog]

1.21 【ODORA-NIGHT】synchre | シンカ TOUR & ELECTRIC MAMA『Moment』Release Tour

あけましておめでとうございました！！ 年明け一発目は、お久しぶりのODORA-NIGHTでございます！ しかもなかなか豪華なメンツ…。 synchreさん、ELECTRIC MAMAさんのツアーも兼ねたこのイベント要check it！

2020/01/21(火)@2020/01/21(火) 【ODORA-NIGHT】synchre | シンカ TOUR & ELECTRIC MAMA『Moment』Release Tour [ACT] synchre / ELECTRIC MAMA / 相谷レイナ / Hooper Pooper Looper(1P) / IDATEN(from ラグナセカ) / 8-4 [OPEN/START]17:30/18:00 [料金]ADV/DOOR ￥2,000/￥2,500別途Drink代￥600

8-4も年明け一発目でございます。 バチバチよろしく！！

#大阪 #バンド #club vijon #8-4 #インスト #ODORA NIGHT

[rayfollowsfromhere]

Sapphic September Day 20

Day 20 was Doubt

-.-.-

Emmett wasn't quite sure what to do with the knowledge that Amity Lawn had given his life for him. Or that Eleanora Bond had facilitated it.

Not that she'd said as much. The only time she'd been conscious since the… tumor switch, she'd been hysterical. Emmett had heard her from his room. Eleanora had a set of lungs on her, that he knew. It was also the only piece of information he knew what to do with.

"Stop giving her sedatives, Domi, it's not helping." Sera was glowing down Dominique, hands on her hips and feet planted firmly in the doorway of Eleanora's room.

"She tried to scratch her damn face off, Seraphina!" Domi huffed. She threw her hands up. "I can't exactly call in a shrink to help either."

Sera rolled her eyes, "She doesn't need a shrink either. She needs to spend twenty minutes lucid enough for me to remind her she's a decent human being!"

"I agree with Sera," Emmett chimed in from his own doorway. Domi spun around to face him, eyes narrowed. Sera smirked over her shoulder at him. "And I'd be willing to bet Sera's her next of kin, so it should be her call anyway."

Domi crossed her arms, "What're you doing out of bed?"

"Well, the scan this morning was clear right?" Emmett raised a brow. Domi nodded. "Then back to work. We still haven't found out who murdered Oriana and despite all the excitement, that's still my priority."

"I think Alexa's gonna want you to take it easy there, Em." Sera spoke gently. Her smile soft. Domi actually growled in the middle of the hallway. "I think Domi does too."

Emmett shrugged, "I'll take two weeks after we catch them." He shuffled back into his room to find his shoes - which Beau had kindly snuck him under his mother's watchful eyes. "I can't relax while there's a murderer loose in Odora.

The two women exchanged a look and Emmett was certain Domi had texted Alexa before he even reached his office. He recieved a similar look from Tariss when he walked in.

"Don't even, Gomez," Emmett ambled toward his desk, "Alexa's probably already on her way to yell at me."

"Do you know how much work it was to get her to agree to to home to sleep?" Tarisa seethed through her teeth. She pounded the desk, "That woman will kill me if I let you stay."

Emmett groaned, rolled his neck, "I said don't." He paused at his filing cabinet before taking his seat. Galvin Davies' investigation file was still on top, from when he'd copied it for Eleanora. "And last I checked I'm still your boss."

There was quite a lot of grumbling from the other side of the office. Emmett ignored it to sit in his chair with the file.

Galvin's investigation had been handled by the last sheriff. He'd still been in the service and Gomez had been in the academy. He opened the folder to start at the beginning.

The bulk of the file was on the fight between Galvin and Amity, which was not much of a fight. Amity had broken fingers from beating Galvin and a single bruise on his cheek from the older man's attempt at defending himself.

"I see why Domi and Stella weren't a fan of Amity's return."

Tarisa snorted, "My mother was furious back when he was first arrested." She huffed. "Somehow, it turned into a lecture on dating and picking my men carefully and blah-blah-blah."

"I doubt she'd appreciate that hand gesture." Emmett grinned at the yapping hand Tarisa continued to snap in his direction.

"Honestly, everyone's reactions always made total sense to me. Shit life that isn't suppose to happen in small towns." Tarisa shrugged, she started typing into her desk. "My mother still won't let Ana come to dinner at our place. Blames her for bring 'such horrors' to our door."

Emmett paused, his lips puckered. "Your mother blamed Oriana?" Tarisa nodded. Her hands paused on her keyboard.

"Boss?" Tarisa turned a set of narrowed eyes on him, "What're you thinking?"

"I'm thinking your mother probably wasn't alone in that perspective." Emmett leaned forward to brace himself on his desk. "You knew Oriana pretty well, right?"

Tarisa shrugged. She sat back in her chair, arms crossed.

"Why did she come back to Odora?" Emmett nodded towards their door. "She went to college in Louisville."

"Dropped out," Tarisa tilted her head to the side. She sucked in her cheeks before clicking her teeth. "Frankey always said she came back for him, but I didn't buy that."

Emmett ran hand through his hair, "Tarisa?"

"I love my cousin," Tarisa sighed and uncrossed her arms, "but he's got zero drive or ambition. He's totally fine with living his whole life here, working at the diner during the day, and watching Netflix at night."

"Oriana didn't want that." Emmett knew that. He'd seen her phone history, her internet searches, her emails. She'd been thinking of leaving long before Amity came back.

Tarisa clucked her tongue, "She was settling - Frankey was never more than a convenient and reliable shoulder." Her tone was sharp and her jaw tense, Emmett didn't have to guess what Tarisa thought about that.

"Should I check your alibi, T?" Emmett's lips twitched up and he watched Tarisa's do the same. "I'd like to think you'd be smart enough not to leave a body, but…"

"Nah. I got a temper." Tarisa winked. "I was at kickboxing though, with Stella actually, and she's probably got the best motive if you're thinking this was related to Galvin."

Emmett nodded. He was thinking that. He hadn't considered Stella though - neither she nor Domi had known Amity was back in town until after Eleanora had come to town. Without that knowledge, there was no spark to incite the murder.

"Emmett Wayne Jones!"

Alexa slammed the office door open and stalked in, her bedroom slippers still on her feet. Behind her stood two of her brothers. He'd have questioned the need for them, but Alexa's pale complexion and worry lines told him all he needed to know.

"I will come willingly," Emmett held his hands up in surrender. He stood and packed Galvin's file and a few others under the watchful eyes if his wife and her enforcers. "Just needed to grab a few things so I can properly rule by proxy."

Tarisa rolled her eyes at him, "Even I don't buy that, and I'vd actually slept in the last twenty hours."

"Lucky you." Alexa's voice was not quite a growl, but all three men in the office flinched at the sound.

"Figure out who all knew Amity was in town, huh?" Emmett looked forcefully at Tarisa. She sighed, but nodded. Her eyes slid over to Alexa, who was now tapping her foot. "I expect Eleanora will be back on the case before me, share the list with her."

Tarisa stood up abruptly then, hands slamming on her desk, "Wait just a damn minute! I am not-"

"Going to bother my husband with anything for at least 48 hours." Alexa drawled in a too-sweet voice that quieted Tarisa immediately. "I'm sure you and Ms. Bond will work wonderfully together."

Emmett gave Tarisa points for waiting until they hit the sidewalk to curse like a soldier on a latrine duty. They all heard it through the door - Alexa's lips cracked into a grin.

#sapphicseptember2019 #sapphicseptember #daily writing challenge #the life and times of a writer #writing #writers on tumblr #writblr #writeblr

[monsieurdandylion]

Beat Drop [klance au]

Rating: Teen and Up

Ships: M/M, F/M

Fandom: Voltron, VLD

Relationships: Klance, Shallura

Summary:  Keith works in Allura's flowershop. Lance takes dance lessons with Allura. Keith and Shiro go to the same gym as Lance and Allura... things get angsty and romantic and cute. Hunk owns a bakery and coffee shop. Pidge is off doing (probably illegal) computer hacking for an agency. A band called Voltron re-emerges from the past and the same four kids try out music life again. The whole VLD family ;)

Rights: All rights reserved, Voltron doesn’t belong to me, etc.

1 - Allura's Arboretum and Floristry

It was shaping to be a pretty normal day. Keith had woken up late for the hundredth time, and he considered just changing his alarm clock to the exact minute that he could get away with, instead of the 'leisurely, early morning' he promised himself each night.

The coffee he had snagged from Hunk's was strong and hot, and the steam and scent drove away the remnants of sleep that lingered on his mind. The caffeine made him sharp as he opened shop, putting a new roll of paper in the cash register, tying the red apron around his waist, and settling into the morning routine of watering the plants and checking orders, and arranging the random knick-knacks and other items for sale.

"Allura's Arboretum and Floristry". It wasn't the sweetest name, nothing like 'Pretty Petals', but it was scientific and to-the-point, like it's owner. Keith was the sole worker, and main manager of the shop, but he didn't own it. Allura Altea was a beautiful, excitable woman who had a green thumb and a love for flowers, and she had hired Keith when he was looking for jobs. Keith had only recently moved to the small sea-side town for college.

He had never really considered himself a flowershop kind of person, but it oddly clicked when he began working. The shop was quiet and calm, always smelled good, and he didn't have any annoying co-workers. Business was good at this time of year, especially with all the tourists who walked down the main strip by the ocean and visit the quaint shops as the colors of late summer and autumn swirled around them.

Earlier in the summer when Keith had first moved here, he had arranged seashells along the counters and potted flowers and trees, and along with the blue-painted walls and it's convenient location, it was what Hunk had called the 'perfect beachy petal shop'.

Hunk was a striving entrepreneur, managing his own little coffee shop and bakery, just down the road. Hunk was like a tattered blanket from your childhood or a favorite stuffed animal. His constant smile and yellow sweatshirt that always smelled like pastries and coffee beans immediately made you feel warm. Keith wasn't a very touchy-feely, emotional person, but, aside from Shiro, Hunk was the best person to talk about personal stuff with.

"Thank you, have a nice day," Keith said to the elderly woman, who was holding a small bonsai tree in her arms, "Do you need some help with that?"

"I've got it dear, thank you," she smiled with crooked teeth and a frail voice and shuffled out the door and into the sunny afternoon.

Keith sighed and leaned forward against the counter, brushing off some dirt that the pot had shed. Soft music from his iPod played over the speakers in the shop, and he surveyed the room, eyes floating over the Alocasia Odora, with its giant leaves that hung over the shelf of glass-blown vases and bowls, the hanger full of floral dresses and shirts, the display of the children's toys and gifts, from flower teething toys to fake leis.

Sitting back in his swivel chair behind the desk, Keith waited for his laptop to boot up, pushing on his glasses. His fingers poised over the keyboard, he began going over the rubric for the essay he was about to write for one of his classes. Frowning, Keith tried to remember. As he was lost in thought, the bell at the door dinged, signaling a customer. Keith shut his laptop and looked up.

A teen was wandering aimlessly into the shop, hands shoved in his pockets, his shoulder relaxed as he looked around.

"Hey," the boy said nonchalantly, and tipped his head in Keith's direction, eyes glancing Keith over.

"Hello... may I help you with something?"

The teen shook his head, and his short hair swished around his forehead. "Nah, I'm good. Just looking."

Keith settled back and watched the customer making his way around the store. He surreptitiously adjusted his beanie over his dark hair, and took off his glasses, folding them neatly beside his laptop.

The customer hesitated by a rack of floral button-downs and flipped the fabric between his fingers. He was wearing grey sweatpants and a blue tank top that read, "saltier than the ocean" in block letters. Keith rolled his eyes internally at the boy's mainstream white-with-black-stripes Adidas.

The brunette walked with a light kind of saunter, which reminded Keith vaguely of a cat, and he seemed to unconsciously bend his feet one at a time, up onto his toes, then rolling his ankles. Everything about him seemed relaxed. The total opposite of Keith.

Keith snapped to attention when the teen dropped into a squat in front of the bouquet rack and swooped up a wildflower and peony bundle before straightening and walking over to the counter.

"I'll take this please," he murmured as he pulled out his wallet. Keith eyed the bouquet, calculating the price, before typing it into the ancient cash register, which groaned as it spat out the cash box.

"$7.89, please."

The customer grinned and handed Keith a $20.

"Keep the change, cutie." Keith froze. His fingers froze around the twenty. His gaze found the teen's blue eyes, which were happy and playful.

"Oh, lighten up," the customer said, laughing, "Here." He reached forward across the counter and placed a plucked sprig of forget-me-nots behind Keith's ear.

"I'm Lance, by the way. I hope to see you around."

Keith's tongue felt fat and useless in his mouth as he fumbled for words.

"Keith," he blurted, and then his eyes grew wide at his outburst. "I'm Keith," he covered up.

"Keith..." Lance stared at him, curious. "See you around!"

And before Keith could object, Lance was strolling out the door, bell clinking behind him.

Stupid, stupid, stupid! Keith scolded himself and leaned down, banging his head against the counter lightly. He sighed, and inhaled sharply, eyes opening.

He was going to see Lance again. Of that, he was sure.

#keith #keith kogane #lance #lance mcclain #keith voltron #lance voltron #klance #klance voltron #laith #laith voltron #klangst #klance fic #klance fanfic #fanfic #keith vld #vld #vld spoilers #voltron #voltron ld #voltron legendary defender #pidge #pidge holt #pidge gunderson #pidge voltron #pidge vld #hunk #hunk garrett #shiro #allura #shiro takashi

[the-blind-geisha]

Can I request a letter from older Noctis? SFW. Flowers are: CACTUS - Endurance, My Heart Burns with Love, CAMELLIA (PINK) - Longing, COLUMBINE (PURPLE) - Resolved to Win, DAPHANE ODORA/WINTER DAPHANE - I Would Not Have You Otherwise, FERN (MAIDENHAIR) - Secret bond of love, Discretion, GLOBE AMARANTH - Unfading Love, HYACINTH (PURPLE) - Sorry, Please forgive me, Sorrow, PEACH BLOSSOM - I am your Captive, ROSE (THORNLESS) - Love at first sight, Early Attachment. Please? Thank you so much!!

A/N: Sure thing,hon. Sorry for the wait. X3; 

Rated: SFW 

Warnings: None 

Love LetterRules

Y/N,

I have deceived you…I know I have, and I hope thatregardless of that being at the forefront of your thoughts, you will still givethis letter a chance as I do my best to explain myself.

It was beyond pleasurable to not be treated or viewed as theKing of Lucis during our private exchanges through email, letters, and thelike. To be frank, even the King has his escapisms, and the online world (attimes) is one of them when not being overcrowded and burdened by hisresponsibilities. Do not misunderstand me, for I treat my position with respectand love that my father had before me, but I am a different man than him, and Iguess I kind of come from another mold than he in regards to how I choose tospend my free time.

The moment I encountered you online, I just felt somethingdifferent in you when comparing your presence to other people… I know this iswhen you scoff and roll your eyes at me being ‘oh so original’, but I am beingtruthful, Y/N. Even as I had to leave you some nights to be in bed early for amorning meeting, I had to fight myself to even consider the thought as I hatedleaving you behind for the evening. Not that sleep would fair me well as mymind would always run in unison with my heart on how you were doing and whatyou were up to.

Even now, the thoughts plague me as you’ve gone silent andleave me to worry if I ever will see or hear from you again, or it will merelybe me alone with my fantasies of you till you and time deny me even that.

Y/N, I am sorry, and I wish more than anything I could saysooner who I truly was so you wouldn’t think I was doing this for any otherreason than it felt nice to just be treated normal and to be loved as suchwithout worry of my title being what truly lulled you into my embrace. I knowyou are a proud, stubborn woman who is not one to be taken lightly, but I wouldhave you no other way. A warrior always fights his way to the Princess becauseshe is worth the trouble—worth every venture, wound, and personal loss to seeto it she is treated with the absolute care and love that said adventurer canoffer if she allows it.

Will you permit me this pleasant thought? I wonder…For evennow I fight with my mistakes and try to set things right to see to it you’ll giveme the honor of loving you as I’ve envisioned.

Should you find it within your heart to forgive me, I willgladly venture to you and be the one to bend to my knee as I bow to you andyour mercy. My arms would embrace you without a second thought, thanking youfor not denying me the warmth and delight that I’ve enjoyed the past few monthsof ambiguity I’ve shrouded upon myself to keep you in my embrace and remain witha firm and comforting place within into your heart. Your hand within my graspthat craves for you still, I’ll tend to it with my kiss as though you’re theroyal I should be honored to be within the court of.

To be honest, Y/N…I always felt you were the better of usand like that of a noble I was unworthy of being in the presence of. Perhapsthat’s why I avoided the very idea of seeing you in person even if I had everyopportunity…every power…to beg for a piece of your time.

I know there were many moments I could have summoned you, butI felt you were unworthy of that. Is it too much to ask that I instead suggestwe go out to a restaurant or somewhere beyond these stifling walls of theCitadel to just get to know one another again? Can I start over in the race toyour heart and do everything in my power to win it once more? You know howstubborn and persistent I can be at times, but until you tell me ‘no’, I willdo my absolute best to express my sorrow in my wrongful doings and show that Imerely did any of it for the sake at the chance of normality with someone Ilove more than life itself.

Nothing can diminish the burning flame in my heart for you,Y/N. Even you can try with all your might to snuff it out to mere ash, and Ican hide it at your behest that it isn’t near as bright, but I would be lyingto you even if I attempt to merely be friends. I plead with all my might to notask of me to be another deceiver for the sake of having—keeping—you in my life. I want to walk the streets of Insomnia withpride of having you at my side. I want all of Eos to know who I stand thetallest for, work the hardest for, and find the strength for day in and dayout.

Release these chains of regret, Y/N, and tell me you’llallow me to love you once more. I feel they grow heavier by the minute. Onlyyou have the key to release me of my shame.

Forever yours,

Noctis Lucis Caelum

#noctis lucis caelum x reader #noctis lucis caelum #older!noctis lucis caelum #older!noctis lucis caelum x reader #older!noctis #ffxv drabble #ffxv fanfic #ffxv fanfiction #ffxv request #ffxv #ff15 #final fantasy xv #final fantasy 15 #martascully #request #love letter

[omniswords]

Flunking, Chapter VIII [Akira Kurusu/Makoto Niijima]

Makoto Niijima doesn’t really know how to be a girlfriend. Or, really, how to be anyone who isn’t the Student Council President, the Therapist Friend, or the strategist of the Phantom Thieves. Which is kind of ironic, considering how badly she wants to carve her own path.

All it takes is the better part of her senior year, some extra… unconventional studying, and several trips to the mall to flip everything on its head.

[Chapter 1] | [Chapter 2] | [Chapter 3] | [Chapter 4] | [Chapter 5] | [Chapter 6] | [Chapter 7]

Exams were the only thing Sae needed to worry about, Makoto realized, because their father was there to worry about everything else. The bills? Their father. A stable home? Their father made it, as close as they could get, even with his refusal to remarry. And even through his sense of justice, his own need for stability, left him out of the house for longer than either she or Sae would have liked, he still made it a point to come home every night, and call after them if he was ever unable to.

Had Sae forgotten about all that? Did it ever matter to her?

Maybe there was no sense in thinking about this—overthinking it, more like. But it felt like those bathtime thoughts again, weaving their way in without the decency of asking for permission, simply making a home and staying there. Like bad relatives. They were the kind that made her shake her head hard, or try to think of anything else, anything to silence them.

She settled for huddling up in the hoodie she’d so hesitantly washed the other day, safe at least under her comforter and the glow of her lamp, and staring pointedly at her books. The ones that were still in their paper bag and all but mocking her from where they sat beside the daphne odora flowers. Taking them out of the drawer where she’d shoved them was about all she’d had the courage to do.

She’d figure this all out. Her sister. Her grades. The books. Akira.

Read the rest on AO3!

#fic: flunking #shumako #makoto niijima #akira kurusu #ren amamiya #introducing haru okumura's family related existential crisis #also known as sometimes dads suck a lot of the time

[sawubonafc]

Inner City

by Mary Ruefle

Every solitary knows the evening meal

will be unadorned.

Come quick! And get undressed

for god is boiling water

and we are the softening spaghetti

meant to make the water froth.

Have you never been dancing?

Now the sink is full of suds

and the tenement turns iridescent.

Now the moon makes shine even

the pots he left undone.

For years the tears fell

without touching the ground.

On this night they hit the floor.

Maybe you couldn’t hear them, but someone

had to bend down and touch the rotunda,

just to be sure.

There was a radiance in the city then

and its power lay in the lonely.

Alocasia odora, known as Calla Lily, is native to East and Southeast Asia.

The plant is considered to bring good luck.

It’s usually kept at Buddhist temples in Laos and Thailand.

海芋, 又稱馬蹄蓮或姑婆芋, 也有人稱其滴水觀音.

因在環境濕度過大時, 會從闊達的葉片往下滴水.

其花是肉穗花序, 外有大型綠色佛焰苞, 開展成舟型, 如觀音像.

[ellenychang]

“It’s unfortunate to lose plants, especially after knowing how much time, effort and care goes into growing them for us. But losing plants under our care is normal. Totally normal! What’s most important is observing and taking note what may have went wrong in the first place” (#HouseplantMasterclass II-1).⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ I'm almost a serial #alocasia killer. My baby Alocasia Macrorrhizos died because of the chilly wind blowing on her every night. My Silver Dragon keeps loosing his leaves for ㄐmysterious reasons. Here's my newest Alocasia Odora. One of the leaves turned dry/yellow as it travelled to me, but the rest is doing great so far with the appropriate environment I was finally able to provide after burying numerous "sibling" of hers. (at Seattle, Washington) https://www.instagram.com/p/BsT2O33hvj0/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=n88s49ca1kbi

#houseplantmasterclass #alocasia

[schrodiekat]

Traduzione Night Vale - Nuvola Luminosa

Il deserto sembra vasto, addirittura infinito, eppure gli scienziati ci dicono che da qualche parte, anche in questo momento, sta nevicando.

Benvenuti a Night Vale.

La campagna “Visit-able Night Vale” della Guida Turistica di Night Vale si è messa in gioco con dei poster che incoraggiano la gente a portare i propri familiari a una scampagnata piena di panorami mozzafiato attraverso il Radon Canyon.

Il loro slogan? “La vista è da mozzarti letteralmente il fiato”.

I poster saranno affissi alla stazione di polizia e alle yogurterie delle città vicine, assieme a delle lotterie promozionali con fogli plastificati e apparecchi per respirazioni indipendenti.

E ora le notizie.

A nessuno tra voi ascoltatori è capitato di vedere la nuvola luminosa che si è spostata da ovest? Beh, John Peters- sapete, il fattore? L'ha vista oltre il confine ovest questa mattina. Ha dichiarato che avrebbe potuto pensare che si trattasse del tramonto del sole, se non fosse stato per l'ora.

A quanto pare la nuvola brilla con colori diversi, che forse variano da osservatore a osservatore, anche se tutti hanno hanno riportato un fastidioso fischio quando si avvicina.

Alla nuvola luminosa è già stata attribuita una morte. Ma sentite, probabilmente si tratta di un nonnulla. Se dovessimo buttar giù la città ogni volta che avviene un evento misterioso a cui si può attribuire almeno una morte, non avremmo mai tempo per fare nulla, giusto?

Questo è ciò che dice la Polizia Segreta dello Sceriffo, e io concordo in pieno. Anche se ignorerei il loro suggerimento di correre a perdifiato verso la nuovola, urlando e agitando le braccia, giusto per vedere cosa può fare.

Il Segugio Apache, che, vi ricordo, è quel tizio bianco che va in giro con quel ridicolo e gigantesco copricapo indiano, ha annunciato di aver trovato dei dettagli scottanti che riguardano il recente incidente all'Ufficio Postale di Night Vale, che è stato chiuso dal Concilio Cittadino da quando si è sentito quel tremendo urlo proveniente da lì qualche settimana fa. Ha detto che usando degli antichi incantesimi Indiani è riuscito a oltrepassare gli agenti del Concilio, e, entrato nell'ufficio postale, ha notato che tutte le lettere e i pacchi stavano fluttuando, come se si trattasse di una tromba d'aria. Che c'era un forte odore di carne viva. Che sul muro erano scritte le parole “Arriverà altro, e presto.”

Riuscite a credere che questo idiota si sia spacciato per uno sciamano indiano? Che stronzo!

E ora qualcosa di buffo: c'è un gatto volante nel bagno degli uomini qui, alla stazione radio. Pare felice e in perfetta salute, ma fluttua a un metro e mezzo dal terreno, accanto al lavandino. Non sembra essere in grado di muoversi da lì. Se viene coccolato fa le fusa, e se qualcuno gli si avvicina abbastanza lui gli si struscierà contro come un gatto qualunque. Fortunatamente, essendo lui tanto vicino al lavandino, è stato piuttosto facile lasciargli un po' d'acqua e cibo dove lui possa prenderli, ed è bello avere un animaletto qui alla stazione. Sarebbe bello se non fosse intrappolato in una prigione fluttuante nel bagno degli uomini, ma ascoltate: nessun cucciolo è perfetto. Diventa perfetto quando impari ad accettarlo per come è.

E ora un messaggio dai nostri sponsor.

Ho fatto due passi sulle fresche dune sabbiose, spruzzate di qualche ciuffo d'erba troppo cresciuto, e sopra di me, nel cielo notturno, ho visto. C'era un sapore amaro di pesche secche e un odore che non potevo nè localizzare nè fuggire. Ho ricordato altre volte in cui non potevo fuggire. Ho ricordato altri odori. La luna oscillava come un animale ferito. Il mondo scorreva come se avesse perso il controllo. Concentrati solo sul respirare, e lascia andare ogni pensiero che avevi riguardo a diete e sveglie. Ho fatto due passi sulle fresche dune sabbiose, spruzzate di qualche ciuffo d'erba troppo cresciuto, e sopra di me, nel cielo notturno, ho visto.

Questo messaggio vi è stato offerto da Coca Cola.

Il conciclio Cittadino, in collaborazione con gli agenti governativi della vaga ma importante agenzia,chiede a tutti i cittadini di fare un salto alla palestra della Night Vale Elementary stasera, alle 7:00, per un piccolo sondaggio riguardante dei misteriosi avvistamenti a cui assolutamente nessuno ha assistito e strani pensieri che non sono assolutamente venuti a nessuno. Perchè ognuno di noi è normale, e se qualcuno non lo fosse diventerebbe un emarginato nella sua stessa comunità.

Ricordate: se vedete qualcosa, non dite nulla. E bevete per dimenticare.

Gli scout di Night Vale annunciano un paio di variazioni nella loro gerarchia, che ora si presenterà così: Scout Cucciolo, Giovane Scout, Scout Aquila, Scout dal Patto di Sangue, Strambo Scout, Scout Corazzato, Scout Oscuro, Scout della Paura, e, finalmente, Scout Eterno.

Come al solito, le iscrizioni sono automatiche e casuali, quindi tenete sempre gli occhi aperti in caso vi arrivi una busta rossa per avvisarvi che vostro figlio è stato scelto per l'iniziazione.

Probabilmente si tratta di un nonnulla, ascoltatori, ma John Peters - il fattore - ci riferisce che la Nuvola Luminosa è proprio sopra alla Città Vecchia di Night Vale, e sembra che stia piovendo piccole creature verso il terreno. Armadilli, lucertole, qualche mucca, e cose del genere.

Per fortuna gli animali sembrano essere già morti, quindi il Dipartimento di Controllo Animali di Night Vale ci dice che sarà un gioco da ragazzi ripulire tutto. Sono appena stati ammassati sull'eterno rogo animale nel Mission Grove Park, quindi, se questo è tutto ciò che la Nuvola Luminosa ha da offrirci, direi che può benissimo farlo ogni giorno. Solo, portatevi un bell'ombrello che sia forte e che possa proteggervi da animali che pesano fino a, diciamo, 4 tonnellate.

Pronti a ricevere altro sulla Nuvola Luminosa mentre continua a svolazzare nel nostro cielo.

E hey, un consiglio, prendete i vostri bambini fuori e usate le variopinte tonalità della Nuvola per insegnare loro i nomi dei colori. È divertente, e insegnerà loro come applicare le conoscenze alla vita di tutti i giorni.

Attenzione: la Polizia Segreta dello Sceriffo sta cercando un fuggitivo di nome Hiram McDaniels, che è evaso la scorsa notte in seguito al suo arresto, avvenuto alle 9:00. McDaniels è stato descritto come un drago a cinque teste, alto approssimativamente 5 metri, con degli occhi praticamente verdi, e si pensa che pesi intorno alla tonnellata. È indagato per frode assicurativa.

Ieri sera McDaniels è stato fermato per eccesso di velocità, e la Polizia Segreta si è insospettita quando ha offerto agli agenti la patente falsa di un certo Frank Chen, alto due metri. Dopo aver scoperto che Frank Chen era in realtà un drago a cinque teste proveniente da un qualche luogo straniero al nostro piccolo mondo, la Polizia Segreta ha perquisito la macchina di McDaniels.

I rappresentanti di alcuni sindacati locali hanno protestato contro gli agenti, sostenendo che non avessero nessun diritto di perquisire la macchina, ma hanno ceduto quando la Polizia Segreta ha ricordato loro che il nostro sistema legale interno ostacolerà qualunque vecchia regola inventata da quello stupido governo fantasma fatto di bambocci armati e senza supervisione.

La Polizia Segreta ha inoltre raccontato di come McDaniels sia scappato sputando fuoco dalla sua testa viola, e che nel suo ultimo avvistamento stava volando verso Red Mesa.

Gli agenti stanno cercando degli indizi che conducano all'arresto di Hiram McDaniels. Vi ricordano che, se lo vedeste, non dovreste assolutamente avvicinarvi, visto che è letteralmente un drago a cinque teste. Contattate la Polizia Segreta dello Sceriffo se avete una qualunque informazione. Chiedete dell'agente Ben.

Coloro che forniranno consigli utili otterranno un timbro per la loro Carta di Allarme Cittadino. A cinque timbri si guadagna l'onore di stare agli arresti domiciliari per un anno.

E ora, uno sguardo al calendario cittadino.

Sabato la libreria pubblica non sarà conoscibile. I cittadini si dimenticheranno dell'esistenza della biblioteca dalle 6 del sabato mattina fino alle 11 della sera stessa. La biblioteca sarà oggetto di una specie di restauro. Non è importante sapere di che tipo di restauro si tratta.

Domenica è il Giorno del Punto. E ricordate, punti rossi su ciò che amate, punti blu su ciò che non amate. Confonderli può causare conseguenze permanenti.

Lunedì, Louie Blasco offrirà delle lezioni di musica blugrass sul retro del Negozio di Musica di Louie. Ovviamente, il negozio è stato distrutto da un incendio anni fa, e subito dopo Louie ha lasciato la città con i soldi dell'assicurazione, ma lui ci ha riferito che dovreste portare i vostri strumenti al polveroso mucchio di cenere dove una volta sorgeva il suo negozio, e fare finta che lui sia lì a insegnarvi. Il costo di una singola lezione è di 50$, potete anche pagare in anticipo.

Martedì pomeriggio unitevi al PTA di Night Vale in una vendita di dolci per supportare Cittadini per una Sanguinosa Guerra Spaziale. Il ricavato sarà usato per aiutare lo sviluppo di una bomba a neutroni, e la sua distribuzione ai nostri alleati nel sistema solare.

Il mercoledì è stato cancellato per errori di organizzazione.

E giovedì ci sarà un concerto gratuito. Ed è tutto ciò che c'è scritto qui (lol)

Altre novità da John Peters – avete presente, il fattore? Sembra che le dimensioni della Nuvola uminosa siano raddoppiate, sovrastando l'intera Night Vale con la sua strana luce e quella lieve melodia.

L'amministrazione della Little League ha annunciato che  le partite continueranno regolarmente, ma che sarà posizionato un tendone sopra al campo per via dell' aumento delle dimensioni dei cadaveri animali provenienti dal cielo. In molti mi hanno segnalato che un leone, uno di quelli che potreste vedere nelle soleggiate pianure dell'Africa, o in una gabbia che odora di piscio al nostro zoo, è caduto proprio sopra al Negozio di Gelati Sabbia Bianca. Il negozio offre un cono ricoperto di cioccolato a chiunque riesca a capire come spostare il leone da lassù.

A quanto pare la Polizia Segreta dello Sceriffo ha iniziato a urlare domande alla Nuvola Luminosa, per riuscire a capire cosa voglia esattamente. Fino ad ora, la Nuvola Luminosa non ha dato risposta. La Nuvola Luminosa non ha bisogno di conversare con noi. Non prova sentimenti come noi piccoli umani. Non ha bisogno di pensieri o sentimenti d'amore. Semplicemente, la Nuvola Luminosa è. Salutate tutti la Nuvola Luminosa! Saluti a te!

E ora, schiavi della Nuvola, il meteo.

Scusate, ascoltatori. Non sono sicuro di ricordare cosa sia successo nella precedente sezione di broadcast- nel senso che, davvero, non ricordo cos'è successo. Ho cercato di acoltare le registrazioni, ma sono tutte vuote, ed emanano un lieve aroma di vaniglia.

La Nuvola Luminosa, intanto, è andata avanti, Ora è solo un punto luminoso all'orizzonte, che si dirige a est verso destinazioni sconosciute. Non capiremo mai completamente, o non capiremo per niente cosa fosse e perchè abbia scaricato una marea di animali morti sulla nostra comunità.

Ma, se posso permettermi, è l'essenza della vita, giusto?

A volte bisogna attraversare sfide che in quel momento sembreranno inimmaginabili, come una nuvola luminosa che divora un 'intera comunità- Questi avvenimenti sembreranno l'unica cosa che importa, e dubito che possiate immaginare che c'è un mondo qua fuori e che potrebbe avere qualcos'altro da offrirvi. E poi la Nuvola Luminosa va avanti. E tu vai avanti. E l'avvenimento è dietro di te. E potresti scoprire che, col passare del tempo, lo ricorderete sempre meno. O non ve lo ricorderete affatto, nel mio caso. E voi restate lì, con nient'altro che un potente desiderio di capire anche le cose più futili della vita- e un futile ma dolce aroma di vaniglia.

Cari ascoltatori, ecco una lista di cose.

Provare emozioni che non capite mentre guardate il tramonto

Trovare animali smarriti

Non trovare animali smarriti

Una città segreta di cuccioli sulla luna

Alberi che vedono

Ristoranti che ascoltano

Vuoto che pensa

Una faccia scorta giusto prima di addormentarsi

Mani tremanti che cercano disperatamente degli oggetti necessari

Sandwich

Silenzi quando dovrebbero esserci rumori

Rumore quando dovrebbe esserci silenzio

Niente quando vuoi qualcosa

Qualcosa che pensavi fosse nulla

Fogli di carta plastificata

Panni di spugna profumati

La pioggia che cade a fiotte

La notte

Il riposo

Dormire

Fine

Buonanotte, ascoltatori. Buonanotte.

Il proverbio di oggi: gli uomini vengono da Marte; le donne vengono da Venere. La Terra è un'allucinazione. I podcast sono sogni.

#night vale #ita #traduzione #podcast #welcome to night vale

[raybyanothername]

A Week in Odora - Celestials #1

Here we go again!

Another of my previously self-published books I'd like to make available to people now that it's no longer available elsewhere. This particular book I wrote back in 2019 for Sapphic September and was the beginning of a larger universe I'm still exploring. It's sequel was the last book I self-published back in 2021. Neither has seen much editing since then and you can really so my growth as a writer from the first to second book.

Starting today, I'll be posting one 'chapter' twice a week, on Tuesdays and Fridays. Each part will be exclusive on my patreon for one week before they go public and I post them to both Tumblr and Ao3 as well.

You'll find the first part below the cut, and Day One - Part One will be up on my patreon at 8am, June 16th. It will be public on June 23rd. There's 30 parts total, so the last chapter will be public on September 29th.

Just in time for me to start posting the sequel in October! XD

Without further ado...

-.-.-

Day Zero

Odora didn’t know what was coming. No one ever expects disaster, not when the cornfields are empty and the tornado sirens are quiet. They weren’t some big city with crime statistics – Odora was a small town in a small county in northwestern Kentucky with the great distinction of housing both the sheriff’s office and the county clinic. Their sheriff still only had the one deputy though.

Usually, the scariest thing about Odora is that it is surrounded on all sides by cornfields – grown by local farmers, thank you very much. Usually. April showers hit a little harder than usual this year and they’d stayed through May so there’d been a shorter and harder growing season.

In a few years, everyone will point to that as the first sign of the coming calamity. Still. The cornfields had already been harvested by the time September rolled around. Save for Mr. Mack’s fields, who’d planted late – whether he got lucky or was a corn whisperer depended on who you asked and how drunk they were.

It wasn’t Mr. Mack’s field they found her in though. Oriana Davies looked like she was sleeping when her father’s farm hands found her that morning. Hands folded atop her stomach like a regular Disney-style Sleeping Beauty.

‘Cept for the part where her lips were blue.

Most people thought it was just an accident that first day. Ana was a bit of a dreamer after all. “She must have just fallen asleep looking at the stars.” “An absolute tragedy, her poor mama is heartbroken.”

The cause of death was no cold autumn night.

“Strangled?” Dominique Davies was shaking as she stood before the town doctor. Her baby sister was lying there between them, a sheet tucked around her for modesty.

“Yes,” Dr. Jameson pointed with his pen at some marks towards the top of Ana’s throat. “There’s bruising here and the hyoid bone was broken. That’s what tipped me off to look for the bruising.”

Normally, Oriana shared Dominique’s bronze skin tone, but as she lay on the metal table in the county morgue her skin had faded to a tawny brown. And tucked in the curve beneath Ana’s chin were some yellow-purple smudges. Faint. They burned into Dominique’s irises. Someone had hurt her sister.

“I’ve submitted my report to the sheriff and he’ll find who did this.” Dr. Jameson offered Dominique an encouraging smile that she did not reciprocate. The lines in his forehead deepened as she continued to frown.

Dominique knew the sheriff. Or she had. She’d had the unfortunate luck of being his first crush back in elementary school. A crush that had taken on a possessive side when Dominique took a cheerleader to the eighth grade dance.

“Thanks, doc.” Dominique nodded to the aging man, still frowning, and walked out with a copy of his report tucked under her arm.

The clinic outside was packed with mothers who’s children all had running noses and sticky fingers. Each woman offered her a quick condolence as she passed them. It would have been annoying if she hadn’t known that each and every one of them was sincere.

These were women that Dominique had gone to school with. These were the women that had all spoken up for her when she’d broken Emmett Jones’ arm the summer before freshman year. His father had been sheriff then and he’d been all ready to send her to juvie.

Southern women did not suffer a liar or an abuser well, not even when they were just southern girls.

Dominique gave each woman a weak smile as she walked to the break room. This had not been the homecoming she had expected when she’d taken the offered position as Dr. Jameson’s partner.

She’d been looking forward to needling her sister back into business school. Maybe convincing Sera to move back in a year or two. Ana’s groans and whines and eye rolls. That was what she’d been expecting for today.

Instead she’d driven up the driveway yesterday to see her sister being zipped into a black bag and her mother sitting in the dirt, eyes on the sky as tears slid quietly down her cheeks.

The chairs in the break room were a hard plastic, well-worn. The coffee was bitter, even with three cubes of sugar and a splash of whole milk. Dominique sat in a chair and drank her coffee. She gave herself ten minutes.

“Okay.” Dominique set her empty coffee cup on the table and blew a breath out of her mouth with more force than necessary. Then she pulled her phone out and clicked three on her speed dial.

-.-.-

In a downtown Nashville office building, Sera crashed through her door. The sound of ringing in her head growing louder with each step. She winced as the door slammed behind her. The sound echoed, pinging around her skull like a ping pong ball. It was four steps to her office couch.

She’d already pulled her ponytail out and put on the darkest sunglasses she owned. They were, unfortunately, still not dark enough – probably because whoever made them meant for people to see out of them.

When her head hit the couch cushion and the ringing continued, Sera realized it was her phone. Sera forced herself to unclench her jaw and plaster on her fakest smile. She reached into her back pocket and stopped the ringing with a quick swipe of her thumb, “Angelic Consulting, Seraphina speaking.”

“You sound like shit.”

Sera let her face relax when the rich baritone of Dominique’s voice carried over the line, “Hey Domi, you drive your sister nuts already?”

There was no answer. If Sera’s head weren’t still threatening to rip itself from her body she might have noticed. As it was, she was currently shoving a pillow over the top of her head and praying that business would be slow for the rest of the day as she burrowed into the couch.

“My sister was murdered two days ago.”

Sera’s eyes flew open and she flinched at the pain that caused. A wave of nausea rose in her stomach. She reached immediately for the trash can beside the couch and hurled her empty guts out.

“Migraine?” Dominique’s voice pitched low and soothing as Sera dry heaved. Sera kept the phone clasped in her hand as she hugged the trash can. Her vision blurred as she heaved until eventually her stomach untwisted itself.

Her whole body felt lighter, her head ached considerably less. A dull throbbing in the center of her skull was all that remained. Sera kept the lights off just in case.

“Sorry,” Sera huffed as she brought the phone back to her ear. She shuffled towards the kitchenette on the far wall, “What happened to your sister?”

Dominique took an audible breath, “Strangled. Dumped in a field.”  Sera froze with her hand on the counter.

“Shit.” Sera knelt to pull a water bottle from her mini fridge. She held it to her head as she closed her eyes. “What can I do?” Sera sat on the floor, back against the cabinets, and began taking small sips of her water.

“Are you still dating that P.I.?”

Sera pulled the phone away from her ear, stared at the screen. She pulled the phone back to her ear with a nervous chuckle, “Did you just insinuate that you would like Eleanora’s help?”

This silence, Sera both expected and noticed.

“Yes…” Dominique growled. Sera’s lips quirked up into a smile. “I still think she’s nuts, but the woman is good at her job and I don’t trust the sheriff to find this guy.”

Sera didn’t roll her eyes – Dominique was grieving after all and she could be a bit brash at the best of times - but she really wanted to. “I’ll give her a call.”

#ray writes #original fiction #horror #psychological fiction #mystery #murder mystery #thriller #celestials #supernatural creatures #magic #a week in odora

[martyniiii]

MAG 173 - Night Night

New Magnus episode! MAG 173 - Night Night

Case ########-13

Considerations of youth

Recorded by The Archivist, in Situ.

Content warnings:

- Children in peril

- Screams (inc SFX)

- Bullying

- Emotional abuse / neglect

- Darkness

- Isolation / Helplessness

- Fear of bodily harm

- Perceived parental negligence

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Edited this week by Nico Vettese, Maddy Searle, Brock Winstead & Alexander J Newall

Written by Jonathan Sims and directed by Alexander J Newall

Produced by Lowri Ann Davies

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- "Martin Blackwood" - Alexander J. Newall 

- "The Archivist" - Jonathan Sims 

- "Callum Brodie" - Will Harvey 

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[voicesofatwistedmind]

Cronache di un rientro

di Simone

PREFAZIONE A CURA DELL'AUTORE

Tutti i fatti e gli avvenimenti accaduti sono reali, nulla è stato inventato o distorto.

Eventuali insulti o diffamazioni verso pubblici ufficiali o compagnie varie sono egualmente reali e me ne assumo la completa responsabilità

PROLOGO

31/10 - O ingenuità. Per trascorrere una "Horror Movie Night" post allenamento di pallavolo, Simone lascia la sua borsa al padre che, rientrato in casa, la lascia vicino alla porta della camera del protagonista.

E le ginocchiere sono lì dentro, sudate ed al chiuso.

E ci rimarranno.

02/11- O distrazione. Durante una festa a tema trash per festeggiare il compleanno di un amico, Simone dimentica di avere addosso degli occhiali. Questi si rompono durante un gioco e simone tenta la riparazione con un collante extra-strong. Il prezioso ausilio alla vista sembra essere utilizzabile, ma lo studente è perfettamente a conoscenza della temporaneità e dell'instabilità della sua riparazione. Fanculo agli ottici che non fanno occhiali capaci di restistere agli urti.

È mattina, il tre di novembre. Simone viene svegliato - dopo tre ore o poco più di sonno - dalla soave musicalità della voce della madre che, con un tono che potrebbe sicuramente essere considerato fuori legge per i decibel utilizzati, irrompe nella mente del giovane ricordandogli che deve preparare la valigia.

Così lo studente si alza dal caldo letto e scende in cucina, scalda il latte e prende le sue Gocciole. Ma la vita decide di giocargli un brutto scherzo, e la sorella aveva lasciato un biscotto, uno, nella confezione.

Il giovane non demorde e decide dunque di allietare la sua mattina con i Pan di Stelle. Ma nulla va nel verso giusto, ed ecco che anche nel pacco della Mulino Bianco alloggiano solo due biscotti.

In preda alla rabbia, Simone decide di mangiarsi tre pacchetti di wafer lasciandone uno solo in ogni confezione: vi sarà da monito.

Soddisfatto della sua vendetta, il ragazzo inizia a preparare la valigia: vestiti, libri, chiavi, giubbetti, cardigan, libri, altri libri, beauty case, scarpe, tutto in valigia. Arriva il momento di inserire nel leggerissimo scrigno anche gli utili alla pallavolo. Un brivido gelido percorre la schiena di Simone. Le ginocchiere sono ancora in borsa. Le estrae. Odorano di morte ed epidemia. Dopo averle inserite in un sacchetto, a sua volta inserito in un altro - e così via per altre quattro o cinque volte, nel tentativo di attenuare la puzza - mette anche quelle in valigia.

Tutto pronto.

[...]

Prima di partire, alle quattordici e quindici circa, il viaggiatore decide di prepararsi un panino da mangiare per cena: ciauscolo e galbanino, squisito. Provate, o lettori, ad indovinare dove è quel panino?

Esatto, in frigorifero. A casa. Nelle Marche.

[...]

Si parte finalmente. Il parcheggio più vicino alla pensilina di partenza degli autobus è a circa un chilometro.

Non importa, con la sua valigia di circa 32 chilogrammi sarà solo una passeggiata. Se non fosse che la strada è in discesa.

Arrivato alla pensilina, la disastrosa scoperta.

L'autobus è pieno.

"Ma tu prenoti sempre i biglietti prima, di che ti preoccupi?"

Avete ragione, lettori, lui aveva prenotato in anticipo il suo posto. E infatti lo aveva. Ma capirete che, dall'alto del suo metro e novantasei, un posto con accanto una ragazza in stampelle che - ovviamente - necessita di stare larga, può essere scomodo. Estremamente scomodo.

Ma il viaggio inizia e procede tranquillo fino a L'Aquila, tralasciando all'ilarità dei lettori alcuni momenti in cui Simone ha rischiato la sterilità a causa di movimenti poco femminili della ragazza che lo costringevano a chiudere le gambe in maniera rapida. A L'Aquila, durante la sosta, inizia la sventura: è bel tempo, l'ingenuo scende a maniche corte e va in autogrill per utilizzare il bagno. Nel bagno degli uomini c'è una fila insolita presto spiegata: funziona solo una delle cinque cabine. Ma ci sono gli orinatoi a muro e il giovane ha necessità fisiologiche urgenti e decide di utilizzarne uno, per realizzare dopo pochi istanti perché pochissime persone li utilizzavano. La privacy di quelle cose era inesistente, dato che la distanza tra uno e l'altro era di circa cinque centimetri e non c'erano divisori. Ma fa nulla, siamo tutti uomini e non ha di che vergognarsi. Finisce, si lava ed esce. Diluvia.

E ricordate come era uscito il giovane? Sì, a maniche corte.

[...]

Durante il viaggio la menomata continua con i suoi graziosissimi movimenti e si addormenta a bocca spalancata. Sbava sulla t-shirt di Simone. Che gioia.

Autobus di merda, perché minchia non distanziate di qualche centimetro i sedili? Vi odio.

[...]

Con un'ora e quindici minuti di ritardo dovuto al traffico ed agli allagamenti, il corteo giunge alla capitale.

Dopo aver aiutato la menomata - pensate la magnanimità - il giovane raccoglie la sua valigia (altresì definibile incudine, dato il peso) e il suo zaino della tortura e gioisce come un toro nel giorno della monta: ha smesso di piovere.

Breve illusione, tempo due minuti e ricomincia. Simone si sente come se il toro di prima fosse stato castrato a sorpresa proprio quel giorno.

Lo studente decide di andare alla fermata del bus, sapendo che potrebbe prenderne ben quattrocper tornare a casa.

Uno, due, cinque, dieci minuti. Non c'è ombra di un bus. Preso dallo sconforto, il giovane decide di fumarsi una sigaretta e quindi va a comprare il tabacco. Apre il tabacco, comincia a rollare. Passa un autobus non di linea ad una velocità inumana e tocca una pozzanghera, tutti saltano indietro e un ragazzo, ignaro della presenza del giovane alle sue spalle, urta il tabacco, che cade.

Contro ogni legge della fisica, il tabacco cade con l'apertura rivota verso il basso. Cade aul bagnato. Il suo portafogli piange la perdita di sei euro.

Ma dio santo, Winston carissima, cazzo ti costa mettere una minchia di chiusura su quel tabacco?

Dopo pochi istanti di imprecazioni e dopo essersi fumato la sua sigaretta, Simone decide che il bus non passerà e opta per cercare una soluzione. Con le sue mitiche abilità di fast decision making corre verso la metro. Ingenuo.

L'abbonamento era stato ricaricato la mattina stessa, per cui si attiva il giorno seguente. Decide allora di aspettare un dipendente ATAC del gabbiotto per spiegare la situazione e farai aprire il cancello.

In quegli undici minuti di attesa passano cinque treni.

Finalmente arriva il dipendente che, dopo la meritatissima pausa di venticinque minuti seguente ai quattro minuti di sfiancante lavoro a candy crush, decide di far entrare il povero disgraziato. Deve avergli proprio fatto pena.

Arriva dunque alla banchina: prossimo treno tra sette minuti. Serio?

No, ovviamente no. Passa dopo nove. NOVE MINUTI. prima, in undici minuti ne erano passati cinque.

Arriva la metro che, come al solito, odora di pipì e sudore (che vi costa deodorarvi?)

Dopo due sole fermate, l'instancabile scende. Policlinico, può prendere il tram e tornare a casa.

Potrebbe.

Venticinque minuti sotto la pioggia e nessuna ombra di un tram o un bus che va verso casa sua ma, ovviamente, tre tram che vanno nella direzione opposta.

Oramai zuppo e disperato, con le lacrime agli occhi che ai confondevano con le gocca di pioggia, decide di incamminarsi a piedi, per venti minuti, sotto la pioggia battente.

Dopo tre minuti di marcia passa un tram. Poi un altro ed un bus. Un altro bus ed altri due tram a seguire.

Capite cosa intende il futuro medico, quando dice che la vita lo vuol vedere arrabbiato.

(ndr - Appello alla Atac. SI PUÒ AVERE UNA MINCHIA DI SCHERMO CHE TI SEGNA TRA QUANTO PASSA IL FOTTUTO BUS DIO BONO?)

Grondante d'acqua arriva al portone di casa ed apre lo zaino.

Non ci sono le chiavi. Panico.

Dopo cinque minuti di panico in cui, sotto l'acqua, Simone scoperchia il suo peso sulle spalle, ha un pessimo ricordo. Andate all'inizio del racconto, e leggete. Leggete dove sono le chiavi.

Esatto.

In valigia.

Spalanca quindi la sua valigia sotto al diluvio universale e chiaramente le chiavi sono sotto ad ogni vestito possibile.

Chiude la valigia e passa un'automobile. Vi lascio immaginare cosa possa essere successo. MA MAREMMA MAIALA COSA VI COSTA ANDARE A 30 KM/H QUANDO PIOVE VICINO ALLE POZZANGHERE ANZICHÉ FAR LA DOCCIA A NOI POVERI PEDONI?

Entro nel portone. Non c'è l'ascensore. Tre piani di scale. Gioia.

EPILOGO

3/11, ore 21:30

Simone è nudo, sul letto. Nudo perché non ha alcun vestito non bagnato. E probabilmente ha la bronchite. È sull'orlo di una crisi isterica e sta patendo i morsi della fame in quanto non mangia dall'ora di pranzo.

Morite tutti, lavoratori dei trasporti di Roma.

[8-4official-blog]

10.3 club vijon17周年【ODORA-NIGHT】AmamiyaMaakoミニアルバム「WEAR」 リリースツアー

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[rayfollowsfromhere]

Sapphic September Day 2

The prompt today was Eerie, so our murder mystery takes a fun turn.

-.-.-

If it were social acceptable, Eleanora would proudly proclaim her hatred for small town America. The gossip, the forced community, the fact that you can't hide your bad haircut under a ball cap without everyone knowing. Yeah… big cities were just better.

Plain. Simple. Anonymous.

Odora was slightly larger than she expected. It had it's own bus station at least. Her hometown had only ever had a single stop on the Greyhand route. Odora also had more than one street, which probably explained it.

"I hate you." Eleanora said as she stepped off the bus. Dominique Davies stood on the sidewalk in her usual attire - pressed pants and tiny locks pulled up into a twisted bun. "Seriously, Davies, it's four a.m. Could you at least have the decency to look like it?"

Domi raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow.

"I hate you." Eleanora repeated as she walked towards the woman. Domi's lips quirked up and if the two didn't have a long standing tradition of not laughing at each other's jokes it might even have turned into a smile.

"Come on," Domi nodded her head towards her car after Eleanora grabbed her bags from the bottom storage bins. "My parents have agreed to let you stay in their guest room."

Eleanora collapsed into the passenger seat, "If it has a bed, I'm down." The engine turned over and the two settled into silence as Domi drove through Odora and then through the county roads.

The Davies had a an easy dozen acres, though Eleanora had never been great at measuring those, and a traditional ranch home settled about a mile off the closest county road. It was blue, with white trim, and an idyllic weather vaine on the left side of the roof.

Eleanora didn't say she hated Domi this time because she might actually mean it.

She turned her eyes from the house to the fields. That's where she saw her. Oriana Davies. Eleanora had seen pictures of the girl as she'd grown up. She'd died a woman of 22, but she looked younger as she stood in the field.

Maybe she was. Eleanora had met more than a few spirits who'd taken on a younger likeness to themselves than when they'd died.

"She died here, huh?" Eleanora turned her eyes from one sister to the other. Domi's knuckles turned white as her grip on the steering wheel tightened.

"Yeah." Domi nodded sharply. Her voice had gone an octave higher. Eleanora didn't speak again until they were inside. Domi tossed her a set of keys, "My mom said you could use her car while you're here."

Eleanora could feel the grief pouring out of the hallway. It flooded the whole house really, but she had an inkling that the source was the master bedroom. It was…not quite surprising.

Domi's emotions were wrapped and sealed tightly within herself. A notable gap in the emotional fabric of the universe. Even now, Eleanora couldn't sense a thing from her. Usually things like that were handed down, strategies taught from a very young age, sometimes purposefully.

"You coming?" Domi didn't huff at her so much as growl. A very quiet growl. Since Eleanora had stopped in the entryway for several minutes she figured Domi had earned that growl.

The Davies home was just as big as it had looked from the outside. Big great room, big kitchen, all the boxes checked for the realtors. Two hallways branched off from the main area and Eleanora followed Domi down the left one to a room with southern exposure.

"This room is bigger than my apartment."

Domi chuckled, "The hall bathroom is bigger than your apartment." She bobbed head to the right. "It's next door."

"Gotcha," Eleanora plopped one duffle bag on the floor by the dresser and the other on the desk. The one on the desk clanked against the wood.

"What's all that?" Domi eyed the desk warily even as Eleanora flopped over the bed.

Eleanora raised her face from the lavendar scented comforter, "Do you want the honest answer?"

"My room's across the hall, two doors down." Domi ducked out of the room quickly, closing the door with a snap.

With a smirk, Eleanora rolled off the bed. Her boots hit the ground and she stood. There was a floor length mirror beside the dresser that Eleanora ignored when she passed it.

The duffel on the desk was filled with investigative tools. A cushioned satchel filled with camera lenses and scopes. Ammo. A couple of guns. A crystal ball. A few candles. And…

Eleanora pulled a metal box from the duffel. It was rusted, with a broken lock. Eleanora crossed back over to the dresser to open the bottom drawer.

With that settled, she pulled a lighter from her back pocket and a bundle of cedar tied with a red string from the duffel's outer pocket. It took twenty minutes to expunge the grief that had soaked into the walls. Another five to establish a firm barrier.

"I'm gonna need cinnamon if I stay here too long," Eleanora dropped the cedar back into its ziplock and shoved it into the duffel beside her .45.

-.-.-

Eleanora only waited until 7am to go see the sheriff. Mostly so she could take a nap afterwards and partially because she wanted to catch the man offhanded before word spread that she was here. Given the narrowed eyes he was leveling on her, she had succeeded.

"Who the fuck are you?" The man's hands moved to his hips.

"Name's Bond. Eleanora Bond."

His hand twitched towards his gun, but didn't touch it. Eleanora smiled at that. Here she was sitting in his chair, in his locked office, and he didn't pull a gun. She appreciated that sort of restraint in law enforcement.

"I'd like an honest answer." He growled the words. A real growl. Teeth bared and everything. He had very white teeth.

"Who's your dentist?"

His eyes fluttered for a second before closing. He took a breath. The worry lines on his forehead smoothed out, "Ma'am."

"Eleanora Bond is my real name, Sheriff Jones." She swung her feet off his desk and stood. She gave him her card, "I'm here about Oriana Davies' death."

Watching a six-foot-two-inches former defensive tackle scrunch up his nose at her pink card was the highlight of Eleanora's day. Nothing would top it, she was sure.

"And why is a P.I. from Nashville looking into a death in Odora?" Eyebrows were raised, eyebrows were lowered. The sheriff couldn't seem to decide what to do with them. "A death that only occurred two days ago at that.

"Three, technically," Eleanora sat on the front edge of his desk. "She was found two days ago, but she was murdered the night before."

He growled again. Eyes closed. "Ms. Bond-"

"I have a thing for brunettes," Eleanora interrupted him, her lips spread wide in a grin as she focused in on his face. "My girl, Sera, she's Domi's best friend."

One eye twitched. His lips pursed. "So…you're one of those…uh…" Eleanora raised one of her brows as she waited for him to finish that sentence.

"Lesbians, dad." A voice cut through the air with sarcastic glee. It was quickly followed by a teenage boy with floppy hair and an even floppier baseball cap. "They're called lesbians, and don't be an ass."

Eleanora perked up as the kid lifted an arm to rest on his father's shoulder. The sheriff's shoulders lowered.

"Right, sorry," The sheriff cleared his throat, ran a hand through his hair. "I suppose that makes sense. Domi probably doesn't have much confidence in my investigative skills."

"I think she just doesn't like you," the kid drawled, grinning, "Mom says you use to a thing for her, got real weird about it."

Eleanora watched the sheriff take a breath, long and slow, before kicking his son out of the room. She waited till he turned back around to her, "I like him."

"I suppose someone has to," the sheriff sighed, but his eyes crinkled. Eleanora dropped from his desk. He startled back a step. "Ms. Bond-"

"Eleanora is fine, Sheriff." She smiled at him, patted his shoulder on her way to the door, "I just came to introduce myself. I know how small towns are about new people."

She winked at the teenager pouting at the deputy's desk. The kid perked up and Eleanora felt his satisfaction trailing after her as she left the office. A bubbly bit of emotion that buoyed her through the Davies house before she got to her room.

#sapphicseptember #sapphicseptember2019 #the life and times of a writer #daily writing challenge #writing #writers on tumblr #writeblr #writblr #murder mystery