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#a dream ago perhaps
luthienne · 3 months ago
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Mahmoud Darwish, from Memory for Forgetfulness: August, Beirut, 1982 (tr. Ibrahim Muhawi)
For context: this is written within a work regarding the siege of Beirut in 1982. “Memory for Forgetfulness is an extended reflection on the invasion and its political and historical dimensions. It is also a journey into personal and collective memory. What is the meaning of exile? What is the role of the writer in time of war? What is the relationship of writing (memory) to history (forgetfulness)?” (x)
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yourfavouritetragedy · 6 months ago
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I’m watching the Editor Wilbur ARG videos and he said in reference to Minecraft, “You don’t rely on a tired medium to create timeless art,” and the Dream SMP is literally using Minecraft as a medium for telling an incredible story laksdjflakd
I’ve literally had a post at the back of my for weeks mind that goes “People look at the Dream SMP the wrong way: it’s not a Minecraft roleplay that happened to get really good. It’s a really good story that happened to be told through Minecraft. If it was told any other way, it would be different, yes, but it’s not a Minecraft thing first and foremost but a story thing first and foremost.”
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neogangster · 10 months ago
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“Will you be alright on your own this afternoon, my lord?”
Diavolo looks up at his butler dutifully serving him his morning tea.
“Of course, but might I ask where you're going?” Barbatos did not often feel the need to leave the castle.
The other demon fiddles with the tea tray with such an air of diligence that anyone would assume he'd noticed something to tidy, but Diavolo knows him better. He responds without looking up at his friend, smiling down at the china. “Purgatory Hall. I agreed to give Luke another baking lesson.”
“You are fond of that child,” Diavolo observes with a cheerful tone. “This will be his second this week, yes? Before I know it you'll be staying the night at Purgatory Hall.”
Diavolo finishes his last sentence just as Barbatos takes up the tea tray again to clear it - knowing his master only has one cup in the mornings - and he stumbles as if in response, the dishes rattling. He rights himself without losing a one, of course, but when Diavolo looks up to his face, he seems... flustered.
“Yes, well. No, I wouldn't go that far. But he is quite adorable. Luke, I mean. A sweet boy.”
And like magic (perhaps by magic), he's gone before Diavolo can ask questions.
Diavolo doesn't see Barbatos again until he bids him good afternoon before he leaves, and when he comes back, he has the flustered look on his face again, but this time with a smile - not cold and keen and knowing, just happy.
Strange. Diavolo can't help but wonder what it is.
At RAD the next day, Diavolo does his best to keep an eye on Barbatos - which is not difficult, as he is usually beside him.
He must act oddly, somehow, though, because before only third period, Lucifer pulls him aside.
“Alright,” he says with a quiet sigh. “Out with it.”
Diavolo tilts his head to one side. “Lucifer?”
Lucifer rolls his eyes and fixes Diavolo with an accusatory look; his head moves with his eyes and hair falls in front of his face. “Tell me what's bothering you.”
Diavolo smiles automatically, then shakes his head and scans up and down the hall before looking back at Lucifer. “Do you think Barbatos is acting strangely?”
Lucifer smiles incredulously for a moment, then laughs. “No, Diavolo, I think you're acting strangely. I also think you're about to tell me why you think Barbatos is acting strangely.”
Well, so long as he knows. “He has been spending much more time with Luke, of late.”
Lucifer waits for more; none comes. “... So I've heard, yes,” he replies indulgently, “They certainly make an odd pair, but they do both enjoy baking, so-”
“No, you don't understand,” he interjects. “It's how happy he looks, going to Purgatory Hall. Or coming from there.”
Again Lucifer waits and again he shakes his head at his friend. “I believe Luke tends to have that effect on people. MC and Solomon are both quite fond of him as well.”
“No, no,” he says again, then, “No, not no, that is true, I feel the same. He's a lovely child. But -”
“Diavolo,” Lucifer says soothingly. And it gets Diavolo's full attention - he smiles, softly, because it wasn't so long ago that Lucifer wouldn't dream of disrespecting him by interrupting. “Perhaps you're overthinking things a bit. You worry about Barbatos when he's not at the castle, and you've made that all into some scenario, maybe.”
“... Maybe,” he agrees quietly. There's still a couple locks of hair in front of Lucifer's face, and Diavolo considers brushing them back behind his ear.
Lucifer smiles at him. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Oh.” He hadn't noticed. “No reason,” he admits. “Even now your beauty is stunning, see? I'm immobile in awe.”
As with all his compliments for Lucifer, it comes out both teasing and completely genuine; as always, Lucifer smiles, but shifts in discomfort. “Flattery.”
“Honesty.”
--
Diavolo really does listen to Lucifer, tries not to worry about Barbatos so much.
It even seems to work. For a couple of days.
He leaves the student council room with his butler by his side, reminding him of various presidential duties, when from behind them there's an, “Oh! Barbatos!” along with a hand on his shoulder.
Both demons turn around to face a smiling Simeon.
Diavolo smiles back instinctively, but is all but ignored in favor of Barbatos' oddly tentative “Yes?”
Simeon's smile goes sweeter, if such a thing is possible, and he says, “I'd just like to talk to you, if you have a minute.”
Instinctively, Barbatos shakes his head, “No, not just now,” but Diavolo interrupts him with an encouraging smile.
“It's alright, Barbatos,” he says gently, with the air of a conversation had a thousand times, you may leave my side, you may cultivate friendships other than mine. It had taken long for him to be close with even Lucifer; the only bond he'd seemed to pursue of his own accord, in fact, was that with the young angel, Luke. “You can catch up with me.”
Barbatos gives him a look even as he smiles and nods, and Diavolo resists the urge to laugh.
He rounds the corner away from them, then stops, feeling a great urge to look back. He smiles at what Lucifer would think, but does not deny himself.
Simeon is happy, gesturing animatedly as he speaks, and Diavolo catches, “- much more confident in himself. He's actually quite a serious boy, doesn't allow himself hobbies unless they're related to angelic duty. But last night he'd made cupcakes for Solomon and I, and he just wouldn't stop talking about you. Didn't mention his training once until Solomon teased him about Michael, and then he got all embarrassed, you know.”
Barbatos laughs behind his hand at that, and Diavolo smiles himself, feeling a bit silly - what a strange thing to want to eavesdrop on, who else would these two speak about?
“He's very talented,” Barbatos is saying. “Seems interested in creating recipes of his own, even.”
“That's because of you,” Simeon says with a laugh. “He talks about you all the time, 'Barbatos does it this way' and 'Barbatos says this is better'. He adores you, really. Sometimes even forgets to say that you're a demon.”
“Is that so?” Barbatos asks in that affectionately mischievous tone.
Simeon laughs, runs a hand through his hair, and Barbatos' eyes track the movement. “It's so,” he replies. “I'm going on, but really, what I mean to say is - thank you, Barbatos. I haven't seen Luke this happy in a long while.”
Barbatos’ hand comes up to scratch at the back of his neck as he answers, “It’s no trouble,” and Diavolo almost doesn’t catch it, but that’s his real smile again. “I enjoy being around you both. Or, all, rather.”
“I’m glad,” Simeon replies in a teasing tone, and touches Barbatos’ arm. “And don’t worry, I won’t tell Solomon you forgot him. He has quite a talent for disappearing and reappearing at random, magic or no magic. Almost as mysterious as you.”
“I’m not sure that much is true,” answers Barbatos, putting a bit of that omnipotent gravity back in his smile.
“Hmm, then maybe someday,” Simeon says. “I’m sure he’d be thrilled to learn from you, when he’s able.”
Barbatos laughs in surprise. “Why, Simeon. Are you suggesting your friend will return to the Devildom in death?”
Simeon smiles innocently and narrows his eyes. “I said no such thing.”
Then the first bell rings, and they both nod to each other, but before they go their separate ways Simeon says, “Oh, I almost forgot!” and produces a brown box marked B from his things. He grins as he holds it out to Barbatos. “He made sure to save one for you. Too embarrassed to give it to you himself, of course. You’ll come by again soon?”
Barbatos bites the inside of his cheek and nods as he takes the little box. “I - yes. Soon.” He’s twisting a strand of hair between his fingers, a nervous habit Diavolo hasn’t seen in a millennia at least.
Simeon tilts his head and smiles playfully at Barbatos. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Oh?” Barbatos shakes his head, smiling back. “No reason.”
Simeon giggles, gives one of Barbatos’ hands a friendly squeeze before he glides away, and for just a few seconds Barbatos’ ears go scarlet.
So that’s what it is.
Diavolo goes back around the corner before either can see him and leans against the wall; in nearly the same moment Lucifer spots him from the opposite end of the corridor.
He turns, and Lucifer is taking his shoulder, “There you are.”
“Here I am!” Diavolo agrees, and Lucifer makes a face at him. He laughs. “And I gather you were looking for me.”
He clearly doesn't intend to, but Lucifer cracks a smile. “Astute observation.”
“I am smarter than I look,” Diavolo replies chipperly. “What did you need?”
Lucifer raises his eyebrows. “Nothing, particularly, though what I’d like is to get to Celestial Studies before the second bell. A class we walk to together. Every morning.”
Diavolo looks up to the nearest clock, blinks, and laughs again. “What would I do without you?”
Lucifer gives him a dead stare, but again breaks into a smile, shaking his head fondly. “Wither and die, surely.”
“And yet you’d care for such a helpless creature,” says Diavolo, and with the same drama takes Lucifer’s hand in his own as one would a maiden’s, bows slightly and kisses it over his glove. “Perhaps I should be more grateful.”
Lucifer’s cheeks flush a lovely color in contrast with his cold look. “You should,” he agrees, “but some things can’t be helped. Spoiled princes rarely have decent manners.”
Then he grins, turns, and starts down the hall with a stride that does not expect, but knows it will be followed.
Ah, Barbatos, my friend, Diavolo thinks with a pang. It would seem you and I are subject to a similar affliction. 
--
“Barbatos! Look! Look, I think I did it!”
Barbatos whips around to the other side of the dorm’s kitchen, back to where Luke is still furiously stirring, and puts a hand on his shoulder when he gets to his side.
With a gentle hand, he takes the whisk from him to inspect the mixture; a peak of white follows as he lifts it from the bowl. Barbatos grins.
“Did I do it?”
“You certainly did,” he confirms proudly. “This is an excellent meringue, Luke. Not that I’d expect any less.”
Luke turns a bit pink and his eyes sparkle as he breaks into a huge smile, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “It’ll only be excellent after we bake them. And put them on the pie!”
“Oh? Only then?” He gives Luke a sly smile and quickly dips a finger in at the edge of the bowl, again leaving a peak behind, and pops it into his mouth. “I’d say it is now.”
“Barbatos!”
Barbatos chuckles, lifting a bit of the mixture from the whisk and wiping it onto Luke’s finger before putting the utensil in the sink. “One wouldn’t do this when baking for one’s master, of course,” he clarifies seriously, then turns back to Luke and smiles again. “But I don’t think Solomon and Simeon will mind.”
Just as Luke giggles back and tastes his creation for himself, from behind them a familiar voice says, “Mind what?”
Luke startles, “Nothing!”, and Barbatos laughs, turning and shaking his head, himself. “Indeed. Nothing at all, Simeon.”
Simeon’s eyebrows lower and his mouth curls up at one corner, tilting his head at Barbatos. “You’re a terrible influence.”
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”
Simeon rolls his eyes fondly, then ruffles Luke’s hair and gets his usual hug hello in response. “Luke never used to lie to me, you know. Even about the silliest things.”
“I don’t lie to you!”
“Oh, no?” Simeon pulls away, holding Luke’s face in one hand - then he smirks much like Barbatos had earlier and dips a finger in the meringue, then rubs it off on Luke’s nose and giggles when he squeaks. “Barbatos is right, as usual, though. I don’t mind it.” He kisses the sugar off the end of Luke’s nose and laughs again at his pouting face.
Barbatos hides a chuckle behind his hand as well, much to Luke’s dismay, but does defend, “If you saw us, wouldn’t that make you a liar as well?”
And Simeon draws back up to his height, gives Barbatos a sly, feline smile. Quick as before, skims meringue from the side of the mixing bowl, and deposits it on the end of Barbatos’ nose. Leans in very close to his face, makes Barbatos’ breath catch, and says, “Yes.” Then kisses the meringue off his nose, too. 
Before Barbatos can even process all that, Simeon’s at the door, and he suddenly understands how Diavolo must feel when he sees Barbatos teleport around the castle. “Luke, after the pie goes in the oven, come upstairs and start on your homework, okay?”
“Okay, Simeon,” Luke chirps agreeably as he goes to check the rest of Barbatos’ recipe; when his back is turned, Simeon catches Barbatos’ eye and just - smiles at him. Sweet and tender, like he always is.
And then he’s gone.
Barbatos is mysterious, he says.
--
Diavolo has been keeping a closer watch over him, recently. It’s not mistrustful, so Barbatos doesn’t bother questioning it, but he does notice it. 
“As always, yes, of course,” he’s saying, and Barbatos smiles. “When are you visiting this time?”
“If I may, tomorrow afternoon.”
Diavolo tilts his head curiously, then gives him a playful grin. “My, you are distracted.”
“My lord?” 
“We have tea with Lucifer tomorrow afternoon.”
Barbatos’ eyebrows shoot up. Lucifer comes by for tea the same time every week - Barbatos has had a reverse of this conversation more than once. “Of course, my lord. I’ll simply -”
“No, no,” Diavolo shakes his head. “Go. I’m sure we’ll manage.” He smiles affectionately and narrows his eyes at Barbatos. “I too understand the draw a handsome angel can have.”
Ah. Though it’s why Barbatos was drawn to him in the first place, it is still easy to forget the intelligence - perceptiveness - of his oldest friend.
“You know.”
“Red is a lovely color on you,” Diavolo replies, smug, and Barbatos smiles and looks down when he realizes his face is burning. 
Diavolo tilts his head, not looking away, and when he speaks again his voice is warm. “You are bewitching in more ways than one, my dear friend,” he intones sentimentally. “Simeon would be a fool not to recognize it.”
“... Thank you, my lord.”
“Anyway, I think it’s only fair I know,” continues Diavolo, expelling the seriousness from the conversation as easily as wiping away dust. “You have all my secrets.”
“That’s what I’m here for.”
--
“Hey, tell me you love me?”
“I do.”
“C’mon, I wanna hear you say it.”
“I love you, Asmodeus.”
If the giggling and smacking sounds weren’t evidence enough, what else Simeon hears before he comes downstairs is Luke’s drawn out “Ewww!”
“Don’t whine, little chihuahua, you’ll understand when you’re older,” Asmodeus chastises without pausing, making Solomon laugh aloud as they kiss.
“You’re ridiculous.”
“That I can agree with,” Simeon says as he comes into the room, chuckling. “Asmo, no grown-up PDA in my living room, please.”
Asmodeus sighs overdramatically, agreeing “Fine, Mom” in a matching tone as he crawls out of Solomon’s lap. Solomon takes his hand and twines their fingers together, then holds them up as if asking for Simeon’s approval. Simeon rolls his eyes and reaches out to smooth down Asmodeus’ hair. “That’s fine.”
The doorbell rings, and Luke brightens immediately and heads for it. Simeon stops in the mirror as he follows him.
“-Oh my Dad,” Asmodeus whisper shouts as soon as he’s out of sight. “Did you see that?”
“See what?”
“Simeon!” He exclaims. “He was checking his hair!”
Solomon leans against him. “I’m not sure I follow.”
Asmodeus sighs. “You’re hopeless,” he declares. “Checking your hair is the universal sign for ‘I’m making sure I look cute right now.’”
“Oh, is that why you do that so much?”
He scoffs. “Doesn’t apply to me. I’m always cute.”
“Humble as ever, Asmodeus,” comes a witty disembodied voice from around the kitchen, with a tone you can almost picture the smirk of.
“Nice to not see you too, Barbatos,” Asmodeus calls back, and then Solomon pulls him into his lap again.
--
“So, what’s today’s creation?” As usual, Simeon rounds the corner into the kitchen silently, Barbatos only noticing him when he speaks. He looks up and smiles involuntarily.
“Ah, Luke didn’t tell you before he ran upstairs?”
Simeon leans over the counter, smiling back. “I didn’t catch him, no.”
Barbatos clears his thoat, stirring the frosting again in attempt to distract himself from the long line of Simeon’s body. “A human world recipe, black forest cake. Apparently MC mentioned it’s their favorite.”
“‘Black forest’ certainly smells a lot like chocolate.”
“It is. Though I think you could smell chocolate from a hundred paces,” Barbatos teases.
“I see nothing wrong with that.”
Barbatos smirks, subtly skimming his finger through the mixing bowl. “I think I’ve found from where Luke gets his sweet tooth,” he says, then dabs chocolate frosting on the end of Simeon’s nose in a mirror of the meringue from the other day. Simeon giggles, and Barbatos turns back to stirring.
“Is that it?” Simeon says, and when Barbatos looks he’s chewing his bottom lip. “... Don’t I get a kiss?”
And in a stunning display of self-discipline, Barbatos is able to keep his grin gentle and mysterious as if something inside him didn’t just implode. And he kisses the frosting away. “Better?”
Simeon simpers cutely and twists a strand of hair around in the opposite hand. “No.”
Before Barbatos can answer, Simeon dips his own finger in frosting, and transfers it to his bottom lip.
He has exactly one second of “there’s no way he means” before he takes in the full picture of Simeon, heavy lidded eyes and pouty lips, coy and soft and nervous. And he kisses him.
Even without the sugar, he’d be sweet.
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luthienne · 27 days ago
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Lucille Clifton, from The Book of Light; “Climbing”
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darkfawful · 28 days ago
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nothing makes me remember the kind of person i am like putting on the Nightmare Before Christmas soundtrack and suddenly remembering halfway through singing that I have the entire thing memorized front to back 
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luthienne · 9 months ago
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Olga Broumas, Beginning with O; “Love Lines”
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henryobsessed · a month ago
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The Veterinarian and the Werewolf - Chapter 2
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Summery: Now back at the clinic what is Jessie going to do? she cant leave the wolf without him going wild.
Word count: 2092
Warning: None - fluff
A/N sorry this story and my others are slow, having a case of writers cramp. Thank you for continuing to support my efforts. Selah
Chapter 1
The Veterinarian and the Werewolf
- Chapter 2
Jessie could not believe what she was seeing, the behaviour that both Thomas and Joe had described was typical of a wild wolf. When scared and cornered they would lash out. So, what was happening when she came on the scene? It made no sense. She looked at the sleeping wolf, he looked so much like the wolves in her dream the ones she had buried all those years ago. Perhaps….
“So, what are we going to do Jessie, he’s not happy unless your around.” Joe’s voice interrupted her musings, what was she going to do? Looking around the clinic she saw a small room, one of the three in the rundown house the county had allowed her to convert into a clinic. The other two rooms were used as a consulting room and storage room.
The front living room, if you could call it that, was her reception area, and this her third room, the largest of the three was her surgical room. There was enough space on one wall to house a three-tiered cage system for smaller animals, in the centre of the room was her operating table. Along the other two walls was a sink and cupboards holding her needed supplies and then three large cages for her bigger clients.
She could take him home, but in his current condition she couldn’t really move his leg. Maybe…. She wondered, then making up her mind she asked, “Joe, can you pop down to the local camping store and purchase a cot, and then go to my house and bring back a pillow, sheets and blanket. I think for the time being I’ll stay here until he is able to be moved.”
Joe smiled at his boss; she was kind-hearted, awkward when not talking about animals, but he loved her company. “Sure thing boss. Mrs. Crenshaw is here with her paillon, and Tommy has bought his turtle in he’s not coming out of his shell. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
She smiled as she stood. Looking one more time down at the sleeping canine and whispered, “I won’t be far away, just in the other room. You sleep and regain your health.”
As the day continued, she dealt with her patients, so many small issues, thankfully nothing that was an emergency. It had been a long afternoon, currently she was working with a small puppy. He was a little Siberian Husky, full of energy and just needed his puppy vaccinations. As she moved to her fridge to get the vaccines, she felt a pair of eyes watching her. Looking over her shoulder she saw the wolf, head resting on his paws. His breathing was calm and the expression in his eye almost looked human, one of contentment. Startled by the strange sensation that his gaze gave her she almost dropped her vial when the small puppy yipped. Smiling and shaking her head as she turned from his gaze back to the puppy, she then laughed, “Are you eager little one?”
Standing and walking to the puppy who was being held by its nervous owner, Jessie pinched the skin on the puppy’s neck and inserted the injecting quickly. “Good little one, you did really well.” She praised as she stepped back to a comfortable distance from the owner. Jessie spoke whilst still looking at the cute bundle in the young ladies arms, “Now he has had his vaccinations you should think of enrolling him in puppy school. It’s important to socialise him but also for them to teach you how to train him.”
The young woman smiled back at Jessie, “Yes we are booked in thanks Doc.” The two left Jessie alone now in the room. It had been a long day, she still needed to feed the Tibetan Spaniel, who was now on its own as the tabby had been picked up by its owner.
She moved over to the bench and fixed their meals, a mixture of vegetables and soft minced meats. As she walked over to the Tibetan, she continued to feel the wolf’s eyes on her. Chuckling to herself she began humming a tune as she placed the small container in the little dog’s cage. A wine softly filled the air from behind her as she scratched the small canine’s ear. Was he Jealous? She turned around after locking the cage and smirked at the wolf who gave her big round puppy dog eyes. Jessie picked up his bowl and walked over. Trusting his behavior opened his cage and placed the bowl in front of him. This time she laughed out loud as the wolf sniffed at the bowl. He looked back at her, raised his right eyebrow with a very human expression as if to say, “Are you for real?” Turning his nose up at the bowl he used his paw to push it away. Huffing, he put his head down and sulked.
Jessie was amused to say the least. If she didn’t know any better, she would have sworn that he was insulted at her choice of food. Wondering what she could do she decided to check the fridge in the kitchen. She turned her back to leave and as she reached the door, she heard a wine again from behind her. Turning her head, she smiled softly at her patient who had his head up alert, afraid she was leaving. Sighing she said, “Don’t worry. I’ll be back in a minute.” His response was an almost imperceptible nod, then laid his head back down.
What was she going to get him? A wild animal would want raw meat. Reaching the fridge, she opened it and immediately decided to give Joe a raise. There in the middle of the fridge was a tray of steaks with a note. “In case you or our new guest gets hungry, Joe.” Smiling she picked it up, He knew how much she loved stake, chuckling and also hoping her guest would be content if she kept one piece she turned and walked back to the room.
As she re-entered his nose went into the air, his tongue slipped out of his mouth as he began to pant. Jessie chuckled at the sight, she settled herself sitting cross-legged in front of the cage and opened the door, “Is this more to your liking?” In answer he gave her a soft yip before nudging the tray with his nose. Broad smiled she couldn’t help but laugh at his cheekiness. “Alright, alright. Here you go fussy boy.” She laid one piece of steak in front of him. Again he surprised her, for instead of wolfing it down he placed his good paw on it and began to tear small pieces off chewing slowly. “Well, aren’t you a dainty eater.” He turned and once again raised an eyebrow at her. “Ok, alright I’m sorry wolfy.” She held in the laugh before passing another piece to him.
Taking one piece for herself, she put it aside and stoked his fur as he finished his last stake. He turned his head, pushing his muzzle under her hand until he had situated her hand at his ears. Understanding his instructions, she began to scratch, a contented sigh left his lips as she continued to scratch his ears and head. “You like this, huh?” A soft purring began to leave his mouth confirming her suspicions. Eventually he fell asleep. She didn’t want to stop stroking the beautiful creature, but her stomach growled loud enough to make him prick up his ears. One eye opened and he growled softly at her.
“Is that your way of telling me to go eat, pup?” she challenged. He replied with another soft nonaggressive growl. “Ok, you get some sleep. I will be just in the other room and tonight I’m going to sleep right here if you need me.” This seemed to satisfy him as he huffed and shut his eyes.
That night Jessie laid in her cot, grateful for Joe who purchased a decent padded cot. Along with her comforts from home, she was very cosy. After a hectic day she shut her eyes and whispered to the room, “Good night you two sleep well.” In response she heard the Tibetan snore lightly, the wolf wined softly and with that she fell asleep.
Jessie felt like she was home, her eyes opened, and she was sitting against a tree in the forest. Her tree. The sun was shining, and the small animals and birds were talking and chattering around her. The wind rustled the leaves of the great tree above her, filling her ears with a sound similar to that of the ocean. This was her safe space, wondering how she got here she was startle by the sound of footsteps. She looked towards the thick trees to her left and there walking towards her was a man. He was a large man with broad shoulders, a chiseled hairy body, thick thighs, and other parts that bulged underneath his black shorts causing her to blush. Pulling her eyes up, the man’s blue eyes startled her. They were filled with slight mirth at catching her out. Her cheeks grew hotter as he continued to move towards her, stopping in front of her as she scrambled to her feet.
She was tall at 6ft and was surprised as he stood at least a foot taller making her feel short. Lifting her eyes to meet his, she was filled with an unknown feeling, a tingling that started in her middle and fanned its way out to her extremities as he reached out and pulled her into his embrace. Normally in a situation when a stranger pulled you into a hug you would be anxious, right? Instead, Jessie felt like she was in heaven. His warmth enveloped her, laying her ear against his chest she could hear his heart beating. She wrapped her arms around his waist and gave in the to embrace, feeling for the first time in her life a feeling of safety and completeness. She felt truly home.
They stood like this for it seemed to Jessie an eternity before she felt tears on her cheek. Not understanding why, she was crying, she reached up to wipe at it just as another landed. They were not her tears but those of the man. Leaning back, she reached up and cupped his bearded face as she looked into his eyes, shimmering with a flow of glistening tears. He smiled at her before he pulled her back, this time nuzzling his face into her neck. She reached her hand into his wild hair with one hand whilst the other rubbed circles in his back trying to comfort him. Unsure what would make him so sad, she hummed a little until he settled. The shuddering she felt in his chest subsided and standing back to his full height he looked at her. Gazing into her eyes, he leaned down and kissed her lightly on the lips before he turned to leave. Jessie’s heart was racing, he had stolen her first kiss. She wanted to at least know his name, so she called out, “Wait! Please what is your name?” He turned back, giving her a soft smile and raised his right eyebrow, the action was familiar and yet not. Just as he opened his mouth he began to disappear, then he was gone.
With a cry Jessie sat bolt upright in her cot, her heart still racing, her eyes searched for the man. Instead, she was met with her surgical room. The sun was just peeking through her window, and she could hear the soft sounds of the Tibetan still snoring. She looked over at the wolf who instead of being asleep as she had hoped he would be, was watching her. She smiled and whispered to him, “Boy, if you only knew what I just dreamt.” In all her young years she had never had such a vivid dream. It left an ache in her heart, a longing that she had given up on ever feeling. The wolf gave her a look, his right eyebrow lifted as if to agree with her statement. Frowning she studied his features. A strange thought crossed her mind but just as quickly she dismissed it. No it couldn’t be. Jessie shook her head deciding it was time for a coffee. She shifted her legs to the side of the cot and willed herself to get up and face the day.
Chapter 3
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illumiera · a year ago
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A Big Post of Fic Recs #2
Today is International Fanworks Day! To celebrate, I thought I’d share some more stories I’ve loved recently, and here’s part one, similarly full of lovely fics!
I’ve also written my own--here’s a TRoS fix-it featuring grandma Padmé, and here’s a post-TFA WIP that includes Alderaanian braids, more Padmé, a cupful of softness, and a couple spoonfuls of angst.  💖 
Post-TFA
A Man Called Winter by ReyloTrashCompactor (15k, rated M, complete)
Summary: The girl didn’t dream. Perhaps it was because she needed more to fuel nighttime sojourns than fantasies of a full belly, of escaping the desert. Perhaps she exhausted all these dreams years ago, falling to sleep in the soft embrace of hope and waking in the hard grip of reality. Or perhaps dreams simply could not permeate the armored shell she slept inside, those rusted walls resistant to blaster fire as well as the simple comfort of imagination. Maybe this was why, on a particularly stifling night, when sleeping on her gritty pallet in the too-still air finally proved unbearable, and she had rucked the mess of salvaged pilot seats and threadbare blankets into the sand outside her door, that he came to her first. She laid under the stars, straining her exhausted body for a cool breeze, and found sleep. And he found her.
Here it is: the canonverse/Hades and Persephone fusion of my wildest myth-loving dreams. I wish I had more eloquent things to say about this one (because it deserves it), but it’s a gorgeous piece of writing.
swim, until you can’t see land by accidentalsupernova (17k, rated M, complete)
Summary: Rey searches for a path to walk. Kylo stumbles onto his. Worn down by the rain, all the steps start to look the same.
I love many things about this one, but to name a few: Ben’s reclamation of himself is beautiful, I love Rey’s character here, there’s a wonderful Luke who’s almost exactly like I imagined him before TLJ, and Finn and Rey have such a good friendship dynamic.
Post-TLJ
what’s mine is yours by hi_raeth (3k, rated T, complete)
Summary: Rey might not have any traditions of her own, but that’s okay. Ben is more than willing to share his.
Anyone who’s spent more than two seconds on my blog or AO3 profile knows I adore Alderaanian braiding headcanons, and this is the sweetest. It’s hot soup on a cold day, full of gentleness between Rey and Ben as well as between Rey and Leia.
TRoS Fix-Its
but we keep singin’ even so by illumynare (4k, rated G, complete)
Summary: It's a sad story, and a love story. It's tale of hope, and yet a tragedy. It's the story of a girl who gained everything but her heart's desire, and a boy who gave up everything (even her) so she could live, and a love that saved the galaxy but not its lovers.But somebody's got to tell it, whether or not it turns out well. (Maybe it will turn out this time.)
I wish this one had a hundred times the love. It’s a collection of stories within a story where Rey tries to get it right, and reading it feels like reading an old myth or a fairytale. It’s the Orpheus and Eurydice story I’ve been longing for as far as Reylo goes, and it goes without saying that it’s written beautifully.
everything he ruined, everything he’ll remedy by calicomoon (4k, rated T, complete)
Summary: When the light returns to Rey’s eyes, Ben Solo remains. In which Ben Solo lives and repents, day by day, as he was always meant to.
This is a very well-done character study of a Ben who survives Exegol and goes off to atone for his actions. Ben feels very real, there’s angst and humour in equal measure, and unless I’m very mistaken, there’s a reference to Padmé in there, which is a sure-fire way to win my heart.
And is gone altogether too soon by Ruta (6k, unrated, complete)
Summary: Against the horizon of the dawning sky, two figures stand out, a man and a woman, side by side, hands entwined and heads joined together as if they were confiding secrets. [...]They laugh carefree and it is that sound, under the sky quilted by the last stars and the first light of sunrise, that Neja will never forget. Not the legend. Not the story as it was passed down. Not the tragedy. Only an embrace exchanged at the end of time, in the land-water boundary between the worlds, while the Force sings around them, healing a bond that is once again whole, deep and complex as life itself.
As much as I long for Ben to come back, part of me also adores the idea of Ben’s ghost being a kind of guardian for Rey, coming to collect her so that they can be together when it’s her time to pass on. This fic delivers on that by the bucketful, and the last few lines are so wonderfully healing, I definitely cried a little.
Picking up the stitches by songofproserpine (6k, rated E, complete)
Summary: Love is endless, and dyads are deathless. (A fic in which Rey did not watch Ben fade away, but did all she could to bring him back.)
This story is beautiful. You know those books or fics where you just want to sit there and savour the language the author uses? This is one of those. Not only is the writing lovely, but so is Ben and Rey’s dynamic; they’re exactly as soft and tender as I’ve always imagined.
Love Like Ghosts by Yours_Truly_Commander_Shepard (26k, rated E, complete)
Summary: Tatooine is cold at night. Jakku was a desert, but the sands of her homeworld somehow clutched the day’s heat until the next sunrise. She has nothing she can burn to make a fire, so Rey abandons her camp in the central courtyard of the Lars farm halfway through the first night and curls into the atmospherically-controlled cockpit of the X-wing. It isn’t really built to accommodate a sleeper. The seat only reclines 80 degrees. The controls jab her in the kidneys as she gets a few hours’ restless sleep, but it’s better than freezing to death under the watchful gaze of the Skywalker ghosts.  After three days, she draws a line on the wall with a charred bone. It’s never taken Ben very long to find her. He’ll be along soon enough.
So, I’ve been reading fic for something like a decade-and-a-half now, ever since little me decided that she needed something to tide her over between Harry Potter books. This is the first fic that has ever made me ugly cry. It will break your heart every chapter only to mend it back together at the end, and you, like I, will sob, thank it, and then come back and re-read it over and over again.
Fracture by Flaignhan (50k, rated T, complete)
Summary: She wants him, more than anything. It’s a dangerous position to be in.
I binge-read this one in one go, if you want an indication of how good this is. It perfectly fills in the gaps in between TLJ and TRoS, and the ending feels like what the latter should have been. I love all of the little details of Rey’s characterisation and her and Ben’s Force bond sessions.
Alternate Universe
Little Birdhouse in Your Soul by walkingsaladshooter (3k, Modern AU/Pushing Daisies fusion, complete)
Summary: Rey Johnson is twenty-three years, five months, two weeks, three hours, fifty-six minutes, and ten seconds old when she taps Ben Solo’s nose and brings him back to life.
Soft, sweet, and just a little bit angsty, this story is the fanfiction equivalent of a warm hug (or a warm slice of pie, given the amount of delicious food in it) on a cold day. It’s so cosy, and it’s interwoven with a wonderful sense of humour!
Tangled, but Unbroken by AttackoftheDarkCurses (20k, royalty AU, rated M, complete)
Summary: When they split, his forehead rests against hers, his nose brushing her cheek. His words are a whisper that cut through her heart like a knife. “What I wouldn’t give to have you as my princess.” The words are agonizing for the simplest reason: she is not a lady—not a duke’s daughter, not a noblewoman from a distant land, and while she may be his, she will never be his princess. But Rey lets his fingers find her hair and begin a braid that allows her to pretend otherwise.
Two words: Alderaanian braids. Two more words: Lovely, soft. Rey and Ben grow up together, and their blossoming forbidden love is heart-melting. Everyone feels very in-character, and I love the traditions the author has woven in to the story!
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luthienne · a year ago
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Hélène Cixous, Hyperdream (tr. Beverly Bie Brahic)
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luthienne · a month ago
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Mahmoud Darwish, from Memory for Forgetfulness: August, Beirut, 1982 (tr. Ibrahim Muhawi)
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luthienne · 5 months ago
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carl phillips, from “cortège”
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luthienne · 4 months ago
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Adonis, from Selected Poems; “Rage” (tr. Khaled Mattawa)
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luthienne · 3 months ago
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Something is missing from me. And I can't. I can't.
Mahmoud Darwish, from Memory for Forgetfulness: August, Beirut, 1982 (tr. Ibrahim Muhawi)
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luthienne · 2 months ago
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Adonis, Selected Poems; “Beginnings of the Body, Ends of the Sea” (tr. Khaled Mattawa)
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luthienne · 10 months ago
do you know any poems about wasted potential? or not living up to how good you used to be?
i can’t think of any specific poems but here is an old post that might speak to you, and here are a few more excerpts that contain that feeling for me:
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Lord Byron, To the Countess of Blessington
“People kept saying it’s only a matter of time so I persevered in the hope they weren’t lying. At the same time beginning to think I might’ve been lying to myself. Wasting everyone’s time with fantasies of this career I couldn’t have. The person I could never be. There was just so much rejection and not enough of me. So I got afraid. And I lost my nerve —”
Eimear McBride, The Lesser Bohemians
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“‘You are in conflict with yourself,’ I said… 'You are holding yourself in check. You are paralyzing yourself.’”
Christa Wolf, Cassandra: A Novel and Four Essays (tr. Jan van Heurck)
“I’m not lost. Or not lost much. Lonely. It is that and … I don’t know what to do. So I move. And cars move. And it’s almost life.”
Eimear McBride, The Lesser Bohemians
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Sia, “Breathe Me”
“Sometimes I’d allow myself another dream, knowing it was more impossible still…”
Clarice Lispector, Complete Stories; “Obsession”
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“No doubt everyone began to give up on me, the inevitable fate of those who give up on themselves.”
Christa Wolf, Cassandra: A Novel and Four Essays (tr. Jan van Heurck)
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“It makes me tremble. (…) To think back. I remember exactly how I thought life would be.”
Anne Carson, The Beauty of the Husband
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Lisa Hannigan, “Fall”
“…I seemed to do none of the things I intended to do — I didn’t seem to be quite present anywhere —”
Georgia O’Keeffe, from Georgia O’Keeffe: Art and Letters
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Daughter, “Candles”
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Iron & Wine, The Trapeze Swinger
“What remains now is the aftermath — / even that stripped of all its glory.”
Mahtem Shiferraw, Fuschia; “E for Eden”
“I will it, hope and dream it. Fine my life’ll be when it comes. When I am right. When I have made myself. When I have. When I”
Eimear McBride, The Lesser Bohemians
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Keaton Henson, “The Pugilist”
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