#i was so scared of reaching tumblrs paragraph limit | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

suilinbride · 4 years

Note

There is a flame in my life that keeps my work going, but its embers barely glow. I put so much energy into fanning it, with very meager results. If it keeps going like this, I wonder if the fire will extinguish despite my efforts. I'm prepared to deal with challenges, but I wonder if there is something fundamentally wrong that I could do better? Any advice is appreciated. Thank you.

Okay, I’m finally done and finished with this shufflemancy reading. Yay! I apologize for taking so damned long with it. Everything that could go wrong, did go wrong during the time between when I received your inquiry and this evening. I had to take care of my mom once she got out of the hospital, I had to help my brother remodel and restore the bathroom, which isn’t quite finished yet and probably won’t be for another week or so, and in the end I came down with my own bout of sickness.

Good afternoon (or good evening, depending on when I’m able to get this to you) Sithi!

Okay, here is your reading through shufflemancy. I had to do this a couple of different times because the first attempt didn’t feel right. Actually, this one still doesn’t feel completely right, like I’m missing something, but the messages through the music stopped flowing for me once I got to a certain point. I feel like this is telling me that what I got for you is the best they can share or have about the situation at hand at the moment but there’s possibly more to it that is out of reach at the moment for one reason or another. It could simply be that the remainer of it all hasn’t been put together yet? Or that the time isn’t right for it.

Anyway, here you go. I hope this helps. Please feel free to contact me if you have any questions or need a follow up for it.

Also, one last thing before I properly begin with your reading: Tumblr is weird and tends to remove formatting of all posts I attempt to answer with so please let me know if the reading is hard to read as Tumblr tends to mash together all paragraphs when I answer an ask like this. I could fix it if I was posting this publically on my blog, but I’m sending this to you privately, so I thought I’d warn you just in case Tumblr gets all weird regarding the formatting again. I’ll do my best to make sure that doesn’t happen but my best isn’t always good enough.

Okay, so I just want you to know that while I listened to the songs I received for your reading, I couldn’t help but think that the songs are talking about a person when refering to your flame. I don’t know (and I don’t need to know, honestly),if the flame you mentioned is a person in your life, like a human, or an otherworldly being or entity like a deity, spirit, etc. It could be a concept for all I know but the method by which the songs speak to me have all of my being thinking and feeling that it’s a person of some kind or at least they are treating your flame like a person regardless.

So, with all of that out of the way, For your reading, I received the following songs:

“Whose Got My Back” by Creed.

“Watching Over You: by Alter Bridge. "Reality” by Staind. “For You” by Staind “Now and Never” by Godsmack

“Here We Are,” by Breaking Benjamin “You,” by Breaking Benjamin “You Could Be Happy,” by Snow Patrol

“Call Me,” by Shinedown

Before anything else, I wanted to know the answer to the specific question you asked in part of the overall inquiry about if the fire would go out if everything stays the same and if you don’t do anything fundimentally different to fix it.

So, with that in mind, I decided to ask and received the song “Whose Got My Back” by Creed.

Also, before the song began playing, I got the word “yes,” for the question through my natural capability of second sight. My capabilities with second sight and other similar things are very limited at the moment for a number of reasons, which I am working on fixing and mending, and I was suprised to observe it come up while I was listening for your message. That happens on occasion but it’s not a thing that happens too often.

Honestly, this song is one of sorrow, loss, anger, and yet hope at the same time.

And this is where the music starts treating your flame as a being or entity. The song has strong Christian hints and connections, which is not suprising, taking the beliefs of a number of the musicians, the lead singer most of all, into consideration. Still, there is also some Native American chanting featured at the ending of this song, so the being, entity, force in question, could be whoever or whatever the person interacting with them/it perceives as.

“Run…hideAll that was sacred to usSacred to usSee the signsThe covenant has been brokenBy mankindLeaving us with no shoulder…with no shoulderTo rest our head onTo rest our head onTo rest our head on”

In essence the answer to your question is most likely yes: Your flame is going to go out, completely, if you don’t do something important, drastic, fundimental, massive, life changing?

Both the tone of the song and the tone of the feel of the message I got from listening to it in the context of receiving a message for you, as well as song of the lyrics make me think that part of the problem is on your end. I get the sense that something you did along the way was the cause of the problem, the beginning of the decline if you will. I also have the feeling that it wasn’t intentional on your part nor that you are (most likely anyway)aware of you did or didn’t do (as the case might actually may be) that caused the problems you are facing.

“Who’s got my back now?When all we have left is deceptiveSo disconnectedSo what is the truth now?”

I feel like this chorus sums up your current situation in a way. Things are wrong, declining, possibly ending, you aren’t sure how to fix it, and thatthere could be a sense of distrust on how to go about fixing it, if there is a way of fixing or even turning things around, or that your flame will co-operate even if you do so.

“There’s still timeAll that has been devastatedCan be recreatedRealizeWe pick up the broken piecesOf our livesGiving ourselves to each other…ourselves to each other\To rest our head onTo rest our head onTo rest our head on”

The second verse is much more hopeful in tone. I honestly feel like there is a chance to fix it, to turn things around, and get the flame roaring again to the point that it doesn’t die down to embers or go out completely. There is, however, also a chance that you might need to find or light a new flame altogether. Either possibility is just as likely as the other.

The next grouping of songs I received for you feels like a weird back and forth between you and the current state of your flame, though I’m not sure if it’s one you realize or are aware of. It could be as simple as feelings and impressions sent back between one another.

The next song I received for you, as well as the first song of this second grouping, is “Watch Over You,” by Alter Bridge.

“Leaves are on the groundFall has comeBlue skies turning greyLike my love”

I feel like this is the state of things that has been going on for a while now with you and your flame. The flame’s ability to inspire, to work with, to embue you, to assist you in whatever way it used to do is waning, fading, disapating gradually as time goes by. While there is this feeling that part of the reason why this has been happening comes from your side of things, as with the song “Whose Got My Back,” I feel like there is an aspect, a strong aspect on a spiritual level, if nothing else, where your flame is fading or dying in some kind of way.

“I tried to carry youAnd make you wholeBut it was never enoughI must go”

Your flame was very happy to burn and light up your light and work, guide you through your manner of doing things, but is getting to the point where it can no longer assist or support like it used to all the time. There is a strong bitter sweet note coming from your flame, I feel like the flame is happy that it was able to help you up until now, but is sad that it’s running out of resources, of life, of essence that keeps it there to inspire and guide and empassion you to do what you do best. There is also a strong feeling of self pity and grief, as it doesn’t want to leave, doesn’t want to abandon you, but it’s kind of powerless at this point to stop what is happening at the moment.

I also got another strong confirmation from my second sight ability, telling me that yes, we’re on the right track with the way that this reading is taking.

“And who is gonna save youWhen I’m gone?And who’ll watch over youWhen I’m gone?”

Your flame is deeply sad and scared to leave you, to leave behind the work it helped you with, but it’s more worried about who or what is going to aid you, guide you, inspire you even if or when it is gone? I feel a strong sense of hope. Hope that it can be recycled or reincarnated? In a fashion to aid you better in a different form. Or hope that if the worst does come to pass and it disappears for good, that you can find another flame to light your way.

“You say you care for meBut hide it wellHow can you love someoneAnd not yourself?”

I’m getting a strong feeling that this little grouping of lyrics is pointing to part of how you helped with with the disolution of your flame’s essence and influence.

While I think and feel that this only illuminates a small part of what happened or didn’t happen, as it were, on your part, be you aware of it or not, that you somehow didn’t show it the correct emotions in graditude or thank and celebrate it in the fashion that it needed to sustain itself.

I got yet another yes through second sight, telling me that while this isn’t the whole of what the problem was caused on your end, it was an important part nonetheless.

And I just got yet another yes through second sight, once more, confirming that whatever part you played in this situation was something you were mostly or even wholely unaware about as it gradually happened.

“And when I’m goneWho will break your fall?Who will you blame?”

What? Hmm, I wonder if this points to another aspect of what happened? Did you ever blame your flame or something that whent on or happened? Even if the “blame” was a spur of the moment kind of thing?

Also, I feel like another aspect of the flame’s disolution lies in some kind of situation where it sacrificed part of itself to mend or make whole something you were working on or attempting to create and your lack of bridging the gap or breach, giving up a small part of yourself to make the flame whole again, helped further the flame’s disolution.

“Snow is on the groundWinter’s comeYou long to hear my voiceBut I’m long gone”

This last bit of lyrics from this song is simply what will happen, what will be the outcome if you aren’t able to revive and rekindle your current flame.

Another bit of confirmation through second sight, telling me while it’s possible to revive this particular flame, the possibility is fleeting to say the least.

Next song I received for you and the second song in this second grouping of songs is “Reality,” by Staind.

“Reality,” is a song about and dealing with mental health and mental health problems, especially the kind brought about by the person who is suffering from them, be it from denial or through drug abuse, and the person or people in their life that are trying to reach out and help them.

For the context of this song’s lyrics regarding your situation, it’s not talking about mental health at all, at least I don’t think so and I’m getting overwelming sense that it’s not, but is instead the perspective of of your flame in how it perceives your part in the situation and the flame’s lack of success of attempting to reach out and communicate with you on how to fix the problem before it’s too late.

“the lights are on but you’re not homeyou’ve drifted off somewhere alonesomewhere that’s safe,no questions herea quiet place where you hide from your fears”

Your flame feels that you abandoned it when it needed you the most, especially back at the beginning of the situation where this could have been easily solved. It kept reaching out, trying to communicate with you but you couldn’t hear or sense them properly?

“sometimes when you’re out of ropethe way to climb back up’s unclearthe walls you build around yourselfi guess they also keep you hereare you afraid of what they think?whoever "they” happen to beor are you hiding from the scars of your own reality?“

The flame feels like you ran and hid from the situation when things kept getting worse and when all of it’s attempts to reach out and communicate with you failed.

"so you sedate and drown in vainyou’ve got a pill for every daya suit and tie to mask the truthits ugly head is starthing to show through”

The flame has been doing it can to lessen the pain it’s been going through as well as numbing the problem it has been feeling on it’s end. Which is where the first bout of your feeling the spark starting to dim and faint. It’s been reserving as much energy, energy that it used to give you in abundance when it worked together with you as an equal, but it’s efforts were only really a stop gap at best and didn’t fix the problem on it’s end at all.

The next song I received for you is “For You,” by Staind. This song is about family abuse and neglectance, especially from the perspective of the child.

Like with the previous song, I have an overwelming feeling that with the context of your situation, this song isn’t talking about the exact same thing, but is instead how the flame perceives your reaction upon noticing it’s gradual disolution.

“so you sedate and drown in vainyou’ve got a pill for every daya suit and tie to mask the truthits ugly head is starthing to show through”

Your own attempts to connect with and communicate with this flame fail epically. So the problem of connection and communication isn’t just a one way problem, like how the flame perceives it to be. Your attempts to do more, to stoke it’s fire more, is your attempt to reach out to it further in bigger, better, maybe even more desperate ways to get something to stick, to get something to work, to have some kind of solution at hand.

“I sit here locked inside my headRemembering everything you saidThe silence gets us nowhere!Gets us nowhere way too fast!”

You remember all the good times you had with the flame, working as a team, working in harmony, creating and bringing forth such beautiful and interesting things. The contrast with how it is now, with everything so terrible, has you exhausted, dispairing in a way.

“The silence is what kills meI need someone here to help meBut you don’t know how to listenAnd let me make my decision”

Yeah, it’s a fucked up situation for sure. Getting nowhere, not having a clue how to proceed, and not having any noticible or tangeable results or reactions from the flame isn’t helping anything whatsoever.

“All your insults and your curses makeMe feel like I’m not a personAnd I feel like I am nothing butYou made me so do something‘Cause I’m fucked up because you allNeed attention, attention you couldn’t give”

Whatever you said or thought in this period of time is what the flame took as a demeaning, disencouraging, manner that helped fuel it’s desolation. I feel like whatever it was or what the flame perceived it as was something said or thought in the spur of the moment. Something you would not usually say or think with a better head or heart.

Next, and the final song of this second grouping of songs is “Now or Never,” by Godsmack.

“Can’t remember my name, can’t remember at allFinding you from past times, I think…How did we ever fall?Never knowing the answers, calling myself namesNow is not the question for uswill it ever be again”

If the flame isn’t at this stage of disolution yet, it shall be soon. And when that happens, any sense of knowing or reckonizing you or what you once did together will be gone as if it never happened in the first place. Your flame is on the last embers of illumination, the flame all but dead at this point, and the fuel for it’s fire is empty.

“Why don’t you just fly, fly to me?How long will you wait for me? Never?Now or never again”

Once this state of disolution is reached, the point of no return is at hand. You will need to find a way of rekindling the flame and bringing it to new life, or finding and kindling a new flame altogether. Now is not a time for doubts or second guessing. If you even have a instinctual idea of how this could be done, you need to do it now or risk losing this particular flame forever.

“Feel me up inside you, how you quiver and shakeCan I rake you back to my life?Will you trust me again? Now or never…I’ll never let you down, so fly to me!”

For if you are able to rekindle this particular flame again, properly, there is a strong chance that you can keep this flame burning strong for a very long time moving forward.

And now, for the last grouping of songs. First, I received the song “You,” by Breaking Benjamin for the first song of this final grouping of songs.

“My hands are broken,And time is going on and on, it goes forever (how long).So I got high and lived all that life that I’ve taken all for granted.

Being at a disavantage or not being able to work or create at all, as is the case with the gradual disolution of your flame, has left you a shadow of your former self. This is where the exhaustion comes in.

Not being able to figure out the best way of fixing things, assuming that things could be fixed in the first place drove you up a wall, left you in a daze, or some other kind of state of disconnect and it has only harmed you as time went on and things got worse.

"Promise me you’ll tryTo leave it all behind,'cause I’ve elected hell,Lying to myself.Why have I gone blind?Live another life.”

In some ways, your flame is wishing you would go ahead and find another flame to inspire, illuminate, and guide you as it is almost dead and snuffed out. It wants you to be happy, to be at peace, to work again and be at harmony with what you do. Even as it slowly loses what made itself unique in the first place.

“The only way outIs letting your guard down and never die forgotten (I know).Forgive me, my love,I stand here all alone, and I can see the bottom.”

You’ve either already have or will soon experience the worst moment of this entire situation. The first step to healing and solving the problem and situation is to open yourself up all the way, be raw and vernable to whatever may happen. Letting down your guard in such a way will allow the process to begin.

Next and the second song in this final grouping of songs is “You Could Be Happy,” by Snow Patrol.

“You could be happy and I won’t knowBut you weren’t happy the day I watched you go”

While it’s possible to rekindle your flame’s life and light, the possibility is slim and always so fleeting upon the moment. Instead, your flame wishes that you would do what was best for yourself, even at it’s own expense. though it wishes not to part from your side, your happiness and wellbeing is the most important thing to it.

“Is it too late to remind you how we wereBut not our last days of silence, screaming, blur”

Though it does indeed wish to hold onto what’s left of it’s existance. It doesn’t want to leave or abandon or let you down in any way possible. It clings to what’s little is left in it’s existance.

“You could be happy, I hope you areYou made me happier than I’d been by far”

In the end, if the end does come, it wishes you find another way to be happy, to be fulfilled, to keep moving on without it.

“Do the things that you always wanted toWithout me there to hold you back, don’t think, just do”

It believes that you will heal and be happy again once you find or kindle a new flame.

Next, as the third song in this final grouping of songs, is “Here We Are,” by Breaking Benjamin.

“Sing it for me,I can’t erase the stupid things I say.You’re better than me,I struggle just to find a better way.”

By this point, if things haven’t changed, your flame is gone for good. It hurts and there’s probably a part of you wishing you knew what you could to fix things before they became hopeless.

“So here we are, fighting and trying to hide the scars.I’ll be home tonight, take a breath and softly say goodbye.The lonely road, the one that I should try to walk alone.I’ll be home tonight, take a breath and softly say goodbye.”

It will take a little while for you to heal enough on your own, to find the energy again to seek for or to light a new flame out of your life and to illuminate and inspire you once more.

The fourth and final song in this final grouping of songs is “Call Me,” by Shinedown

“"Wrap me in a bolt of lightningSend me on my way still smilingMaybe that’s the way I should goStraight into the mouth of the unknownI left the spare key on the tableNever really thought I’d be able to sayI merely visit on the weekendsI lost my whole life and a dear friend”

The process of finding and/or igniting a new flame will be a tedious, epic, and hexhausting journey that will put you to some, if not all, of your current limits and maybe even beyond them.

“I’ve said it so many timesI would change my waysNo, nevermindGod knows I’ve tried

Call me a sinner, call me a saintTell me it’s over I’ll still love you the sameCall me your favorite, call me the worstTell me it’s over I don’t want you to hurt It’s all that I can say. So, I’ll be on my way”

You will need to exanim yourself and your life. Once again you are going to need to be completely open, honest, and raw with yourself and the forces of what ignites such flames in the first place to begin again anew.

“I finally put it all togetherBut nothing really lasts foreverI had to make a choice that was not mineI had to say goodbye for the last timeI kept my whole life in a suitcaseNever really stayed in one placeMaybe that’s the way it should beYou know I live my life like a gypsy”

The process is going to be one hell of a journey and will cost some kind of price. Some sacrifices will need to be paid to progress from one side of things to another. There are things that you must find yourself to give up and sacrifice to have again what you once lost.

Okay, that was an intense reading full of pain and sorrow. I hate having to give insights and/or answers like that but hey, insights, wisdom, inspiration, and enlightment can be just as dark and ugly as it can be light and beautiful.

Like I said towards the beginning of this reading, feel free to contact me if you need/want a follow up reading done or if you have any questions about this particular reading. I hope it helps in some way!

1 note · View note

berriestart--lilacsweet · 6 years

Text

Once Bitten, Twice Shy: part ? ~ something

More RegisxEvangeline for ya. A little intimacy in this one. Long post. I literally had to combine some paragraphs to make sure there were proper breaks for all the dialogue. Tumblr imposed a 100 block limit which I guess I hit lol ~~ also this happens in the future of this fic. I've had it written for a month or more and idk when I'll get more done so I might as well go ahead n share it with you all. Hope you enjoy!!

-----Regis sat down on a large rock at the water's edge and slipped his worn leather boots from his aching feet. He let a soft sigh escape his thin lips as he laid back and stretched out on the rock. The heat from the sun's rays penetrated his body, along with the residual heat from the stone, causing his body warm up quickly. It was the first time they had been able to relax on their trip. He was glad for the momentary respite; his ageing body needed it. He brought himself upright, into a sitting position, and rolled his pants legs up to his knees. His legs were tired form their trek through the woods. He ran his calloused hands up and down his claves, massaging them slightly as he did so. He slipped a bare foot into the crystal-clear water and sighed at the refreshing feeling it provided. He closed his eyes and focused on the moment, allowing his body and mind to relax further.

"Oof!" Evangeline tossed something into his face as she headed toward the edge of the pool. "What in Hell's name..." He muttered pulling the item from his face, blinking a few times at the heavy cloth in his hands. A confused look crossed his countenance as he examined the material in his hands. He looked up and around for Evangeline. Another bundle was flung at his face, he quickly snatched it midair and redirected it into his lap. "Was that really necessary?" He asked turning his dark eyes up to the woman before him. She was stripped down to her black cotton panties that tied at the hips, and her brown leather bralette. Her crimson hair cascaded down her back, accentuating her porcelain white skin. She glanced back over her shoulder at Regis and shrugged before diving into the spring. Regis rolled his eyes and shook his head. Evangeline disappeared from his view, diving deep beneath the water's surface. He smiled to himself and took his time folding her clothes; he enjoyed the aroma that lingered on them. It wafted into his face as he folded the cloth. Her scent was distinct; the sweet smell of perspiration mixed with her perfume, an aroma that reminded him of ripe blackberries with the hint of vanilla. He propped up his arm on his knee and scooted closer to the water's edge as he waited for her to break the surface.

"Eva? Come on now, you're starting to make me worry." He shouted towards the water's surface after a while of waiting. He peered down into the deep spring, searching its depths with his dark eyes to spy her. He waited a moment before pulling his feet out to stand erect on the rock. He leaned forward a bit out over the springs edge. "Don't make me come in there after you. You know I don't like getting my clothes wet." He yelled. He paused a moment, straining to hear her over the pounding sound of the waterfall. "Eva, this isn't funny!"

Regis grimaced and clenched his teeth. "Damnit woman." He muttered as he pulled his shirt off over his head. "Evangeline!" He yelled over the roaring waterfall, his hands wrapped around his mouth in order to carry his voice. "Eva!" He shouted once more, pausing for a beat before diving into the pool. He opened his eyes and took in his surroundings.

The pool was deep and relatively clear most the way down. The bottom was dark, due to its depth, and covered in what looked like a type of freshwater seaweed. Buckthorne. He thought, quickly surmising that the witcher had dove down to gather the rare plant. He turned a complete revolution, looking for any sign of Evangeline before moving further down in the water. He pushed further down to the depths, scanning back and forth for any movement. Then he saw her; her hair floating upward, swaying with the undertow, almost blending in with the buckthorne. She reached out for him sluggishly, her eyes rolling back into her head as she did so. Damnit. he thought swimming towards her with more speed. He realized as he approached that she was stuck in the buckthorne and weeds along the pools bottom. His memory flashed back to the image of her before she had dived into the pool; she didn't have her weapons, not even her backup dagger.

He realized she had no way to cut away the thick plant wrapped around her ankle. Perhaps, for once, it is a blessing that I don’t exactly need a blade to lacerate things. He thought as he flexed his left hand; the fingernails extended into long talons that swiftly cut through the weed holding her prisoner. His right hand wrapped around her waist while the other returned to its normal form; its nails receding back to their normal length. He kicked off the muddy bottom, stirring up muck and sand as he did so. He maneuvered their bodies together, careful to avoid the swaying plants around them as he pushed toward the surface.

Regis felt his heart beat faster as his air supply ran low, he kicked his feet more swiftly as they neared the surface, propelling them up out of the water with a loud splash. He gasped for air, trying to fill his lungs with large ragged breaths as they bobbed along the ponds surface.

"Eva!" He gasped, giving her limp body a shake. "Evangeline!" He yelled as he pulled her with him to the rocky shore. He dragged her body with him onto the pebbly sand and pushed her hair from her face. She was pale, more so than her normal alabaster tone. "Damnit!" He muttered, turning her onto her side, pounding his palm onto her back. "Breath, damnit, breath!" He yelled as he tried to force the water from her lungs. He watched as a thin trail of water trickled from the corner of her mouth.

Regis grimaced as he realized his efforts weren't working. He rolled her over onto her back, tilted back her head and opened her mouth. He pressed his thin lips against hers, her lips were softer than he had imagined, and he breathed into her mouth, hoping to fill her lungs and expel the water trapped there. Suddenly her body jerked, her eyes flew open, and water gushed from her mouth. Regis pulled away and forced her onto her side, he hit her back helping to force the water out of her lungs. She coughed harshly as her body jerked in efforts to clear her lungs. Her coughs died down as less and less water came out. Eventually, her lungs were cleared and her coughing ceased. Regis rubbed her back with a sigh before turning and rolling onto his own back, settling onto the shore beside her.

"Thank the Gods." He muttered running his hand over his face. His chest still heaved up and down, as he tried to gather his nerves. He took a moment to inhale a few deep breaths, before speaking again. "I thought," he began with a raspy voice. "that you had left me for a minute there." He felt her shift beside him. "Don't ever," he said taking in another deep breath. "scare me like that again, please." He felt her shift again. "Eva..." He turned to check on her. She had curled up next to him and was taking in shallow breaths. "Darling, are you alright? Talk to me, please, say something..." He said tilting her head up to face him.

"I-I'm okay... thanks to you." She muttered tilting her head back down resting her forehead against his shoulder. "I'm sorry." She whispered.

"It was just an accident." He said slightly confused by her actions. "It could have happened to anyone. Please, don't apologize. We're both okay, right? That's all that matters." He said reaching over and stroking her wet hair from her face.

"I put you in danger, yet again." She muttered, shifting away from his touch. "Without a thought I pu-"

"Don't think that way. It's done and over now, let's just enjoy the view, shall we?" He said tilting her face back up to his.

Tears. Her beautiful golden eyes were welled up with tears.

He sighed gently and rolled onto his side to fully face her. He took her cheeks in his hands and thumbed away the tears. "You're always full of surprises. I never thought I'd live to see the day that a witcher cried." He teased with a thin smile. She closed her eyes and tried to hide from him again. "Eva... Eva please look at me..." He said pulling her back to him. She sniffled and hesitantly opened her eyes again. He held her gaze with his dark ones, and gently thumbed over her bottom lip.

She felt her stomach flip at his touch. She was ashamed of what had occurred. She had put them both in danger, quite haphazardly. Something a witcher should know better than to do. She had let her guard down for the first time in ages and this was what happened. She almost died and so had he in his effort to rescue her. She tried to look away from him again, it hurt too much to hold his gaze, but he refused to let her have her way. He pressed his lips against hers in a soft kiss. He brushed wet strands of hair from her face, letting his fingers weave into her long locks.

He sighed and pulled away.

Evangeline froze.

She stared up into his eyes, not having felt the emotions he made her feel currently flow through her in years. She felt nauseous. A fire burned between her legs. Her cheeks flushed. Her eyes teared up again.

Regis cleared his throat. "I-uh-I.." He cleared his throat nervously again. "F-forgive me, I don't know what came over me." He said beginning to push himself away from her. She grasped at him; wrapping one arm around his torso, the other around his neck, and pulled him back to her. She shook her head at him and leaned her lips up to his. Her heart thudded in her chest; she hoped that she hadn't just ruined what chance she had for his affection.

Her doubts were quickly quelled as he pulled her closer to him and deepened their kiss.

She allowed her hands to roam his back; feeling his muscles beneath the smooth skin and finding scars she didn't know he had. He let a hand rest on her hip and the other twine into her hair as he kissed her more. She felt a soft moan escape her lips as he let his tongue roam over her lower lip. Startled by her vocal response she tried to pull away, embarrassed by the natural actions her body took. He held her forehead to his, and with a crooked smile chuckled.

It was a feeling neither of them had felt in ages.

"I'm much too old for this heroic nonsense, you know." He murmured against her lips trying to ease a smile from her. "But, I'd have to say it was definitely worth it." He smiled, pulling her into another passionate kiss.

They laid there together on the rocky beach, in each other's arms for what seemed like eternity. Regis worked his way from her lips, down her jawline and her neck. His teeth scraped her skin, sending goosebumps across her flesh. He kissed her neck gently and with a sigh, forced himself to pull away from her.

"What's wrong?" She asked staring up at him. He sighed heavily and sat upright.

"There's something I need to tell you; something I've been meaning to tell you but lacked the courage needed. " he said with a grimace running his hand through his damp hair.

"And you chose now, of all times, to tell me... what exactly?" She said sitting up beside him on the sand.

"Well, yes." He scoffed. "It's something you should know before... before we take our relationship further."

"I see... Regis, I know you're aware I had suspicions about you when we first met but I left that weariness behind a while ago. If that’s what-"

"Please, let me finish." He said cutting her off with a gentle tone, his hand hovering in the air motioning her to stop speaking. "This is something you need to hear, albeit something you're not going to want to hear, in the end... nevertheless you deserve to know."

"Know what?"

"Bloody hell this is a lot harder than I imagined it being..." He said with a shake of his head. He took to his feet and paced back and forth before her.

"Regis... You're weirding me out here."

"My apologies, that was not my intention." He said with a finger to his lips, deep in thought. "I suppose there's really no way to do this with ease. I honesty had hope you'd deduce it on your own, maybe you have?" He asked shooting her a questioning glance, his chin clutched between his thumb and forefinger in thought still.

She shook her head at him, an eyebrow cocked at him in confusion.

"Ah, alas, I should have surmised as much. It's not something one easily infers; the signs are there but one has to be quite conscientious to see them and piece them together." He murmured twirling his hands in the air as he talked. "Not that you aren't meticulous and good at your job. That is to say-"

"Regis. Out with it."

"Right..." He said running his hand through his hair again. "Well, promise me you won't overreact... That you'll listen until I'm finished and not to jump to conclusions..."

"I'll try, but I supposed it depends what you're trying to tell me."

"Quite right." He said with a deep sigh. He turned to face her, she went to stand and he motioned for her to stay seated. "It might be best if you stay sitting for this. What I have to say might come as quite a shock." He said wringing his hands nervously. She nodded and arched her eyebrow at him again. "Okay, there's no easy way to say this to you. Just keep in mind this isn't something many people know, and there are very few whom I chose to share it with, at that."

"Regis..."

"I'm a Vampire." He blurted out with a shrug.

Evangeline blinked a few times, trying to process what her companion had just iterated to her.

"W-What?" She mumbled, her eyes narrowing at him. Her heart skipped a beat as her brain finally processed what he had said. Her eyes searched over him trying to find answers to her thoughts before he could speak again.

We cook with garlic, that doesn't affect him. He's obviously fine in the daylight... Shadow, his shad- her thoughts stalled as she looked down to see that he cast no shadow. Her eyes shifted to the water's surface. Reflection? Again, her eyes confirmed his statement more. He's touched silver before. He not afraid of fire. He's never tried to harm me, has he - Unknowingly her hand moved up to her neck where his lips had just been.

He scoffed at her motion, rolling his eyes and looking away from her. "I'd never hurt you Eva. It's a foolish myth that vampires seduce and suck the blood of young maidens. A legend to fill the erotic wants and needs of foolish humans."

She sat there still in shock, gazing at his handsome form, confused by her thoughts and wants. Her eyes darted to her swords, nestled in the rocks behind them. Regis sighed and shook his head.

"Please don't go and get it in that witcher head of yours that I'm some monster you must exterminate. One: I'm obviously no threat to you. And regardless of what actions you take now, I refuse to do you any harm." He said counting his reasons off on his hand. "Two: You're smart enough to know you stand no chance against me in my true forms. And three: Even if you did manage to inflict a mortal wound on me, I'd only regenerate after a short period of time. Here's a true fact for you: higher vampires, such as myself," he said placing a hand on his chest for emphasis. "can only die at the hands of another of our kind." He paused for a moment. "So please," he began, staring into her eyes as he talked. "feel free to gather your weapons and have at it, if you must." He said with a venom in his voice she had never heard before.

She could see he was hurt by her reaction. It pained her to see him in such a way. All the years of training and life lessons were telling her to act just the opposite of how she felt. She bit her lip and looked away from him, breaking his gaze. She felt sick to her stomach, not from the knowledge of what he was, but of how she was reacting to it; how she wasn't being supportive and comforting him. She realized it must have taken a lot of willpower and courage for him to tell her, of all people, his secret. It made her feel even more guilty.

"Regis..." She whispered getting to her feet. He had turned his back to her, not wanting to see her reaction; feeling dejected. His arms were crossed in a defensive manner, quite unlike the man she had grown to know. She sighed to herself. She needed time to gather her thoughts, but she couldn't think straight with him brooding beside her. Hesitantly she reached out to him, laying a hand on his arm. "We should make camp and get some food for tonight." She said looking down into the water's surface, sad that it was only her reflection staring back at her.

Regis clenched his teeth but nodded in agreement. He grabbed up his satchel, leaving his shirt behind, and dissipated into a large dark cloud that floated towards the top of the waterfall. Evangeline sighed and felt sick to her stomach again. He wasn't lying, he wasn't toying with her, she realized that now. She shook her head and set to work gathering kindling for their fire. She tossed around plenty of questions in her mind as she worked. Things that she wanted to know about him, things she wanted to know about his kind.

She laid out their bedrolls and started a fire. She glanced over her shoulder up at the top of the waterfall, where she found Regis gathering fish for their supper. The sun almost reflected off his pale skin. She realized as the sun set that her underclothes were still wet and as the sun dipped further behind the treetops the colder she became. She looked around for her clothes, finding them in a neat folded pile by the water's edge. A faint smile crossed her face. She gathered up her clothes and picked up his shirt as well as she made her way back to the fire. She made a makeshift drying rack next to the flames out of some spare sticks. She looked back up at Regis, for a moment they made eye contact, he held her gaze. She could tell, even from a large distance, that his eyes were still filled with hurt. She forced herself to turn away from him and slipped her still wet bralette off, tossing it onto the rack before her. She then slipped his shirt on, giving the hem a tug to cover her bottom completely. Regis watched her as changed. A slight smile emerging on his face as he realized she had put on his shirt instead of her own. In turn, she pulled up each corner of the shirt and untied her panties at her hips, before laying them across the drying rack.

He decided that it was a good enough sign for him to return to camp. He gathered up his net and the fish he had captured in it and made his way back down the cliffside. Evangeline was kneeling before the fire, racking the coals with a tapered stick as he walked up. He felt a smidge of hope return to him as he wasn't met with hostility. He laid the net full of fish on a large rock and knelt beside it. She joined him with a knife and set to work gutting and preparing the fish for roasting. He sat immobile, watching her as she worked, wondering what she must be thinking of him.

"You know this would go a lot faster if you helped out." She said giving him a sideways glance.

He nodded, flexed his hand and once again his nails shot outward like beastly claws. The movement startled Evangeline, but she quickly regained herself and watched silently as he cleaned the fish with her. With the fish prepared and roasting they took up seats beside the fire, a few feet of distance separating them. Regis watched as Evangeline shivered. She rubbed her hands up her arms and realized she still had on his shirt.

"Aren't you cold?" She asked turning her eyes to him. "Don't you want-"

"I'm fine. My kind can withstand extreme temperatures well." He paused for a moment as she looked away from him and back to the fire. "In addition, I'm quite enjoying seeing you wear my things." He said with a smirk. She gave him another sideways glance, a small smile on her face from his compliment.

"So... I thought of a few things... that I'd like clarified... about... your kind, as you put it, and about you... If you don't mind." She said making eye contact with him.

"I presumed that you would. Go ahead, I'll answer to the best of my ability." He said leaning his back against the large boulder behind him. Evangeline nodded.

"Well, I guess for starters, why did you even make initial contact with me, knowing who and what I was..."

Regis snorted. "Really that’s your first question?" He asked gazing over at her.

"Should it not be?"

"Oh, I didn't mean that it shouldn't be, merely that I was surprised by your route of interrogations. That definitely wasn't what I was expecting. But to answer your question, I was purely intrigued by the woman before me. I knew the risks involved, I stated that to you before, if I remember correctly. Moreover, no disrespect to you Dear, but I've yet to encounter even a witcher who could best me in combat. There wasn't any trepidation in my mind."

She nodded. "Okay, that makes sense based off of what you said earlier. Next question then... Well, it's more of a statement in a way. All of the vampires I've encountered or read about have a... need to feed..."

"Ah, this was the line of questioning I expected." He said with a nod. "There's a significant difference between the species of my kind. A higher and lower order, if you will. Lower vampires, primitive creatures, such as your average garkain, felders, and ekimmarra need blood to survive. They feed on blood to sustain their life. Higher vampires such, bruxae, alps, and katakans do not, they do it for pleasure."

"Pleasure?"

"Yes. Higher vampires are a bit more complex, you have the average ones that I've already mentioned, as well as those like myself... if you will, superior vampires, elders I suppose. We partake of blood recreationally, although some, myself included during my teething phase, can drink in excess... to where it seems to humans that it is out of some carnal need. It's wholly to the contrary though, as a drink of blood to us is the equivalent of a good wine to you. We get drunk off of it. And like humans, we can become addicted to it..." He paused for a moment, reflecting back in time. "Which, I regret to say, happened to me in my youth. But, it made me who I am today, I suppose, it was a good thing for me in the long run. I, like many of my brethren, went on binges. I lost control... and I paid for it. I spent fifty years regenerating underground. Buried in a deep pit with bits and pieces of my body strewn about me." he shivered at the memory. "I vowed after that I'd never take another innocent life, never to take another drop. And, although, I've kept that vow for... more years than I care to admit, I did break that vow once... About a fifteen years ago... and paid, yet again, for it. It took me less years to regenerate this time, as I had the help of a vampire friend nurse me back to health. He's gone now." Regis said somberly.

"What happened to him?" She asked scooting closer to him, wanting to comfort him but not sure how. Regis shook his head.

"He lost his way. He fell down a bad path, he inflicted enormous pain on innocent people, he... caused the deaths of many races." He said solemnly. "I had the choice to choose between a dear friend trying to do the right thing, or chose the friend who had lost himself, much like I had all those years ago, and caused the slaughter of an entire city." He sighed. You can deduce what happened from there..."

"Regis..." She whispered pulling herself to his chest. His voice caught in his throat. She felt him swallow hard. "You don't have to say anymore, if you don't want to. If it's too painful-"

"No, I need to tell you. You deserve to know. Not only did I keep my nature from you, I also kept how I really know about you... from you, as well."

She pulled back from his chest and gazed up into his eyes. "What do you mean?"

"The friend I mentioned... the one who helped me defeat Detlaff, that was his name... the vampire who nursed me back to health..." He lost himself in thought for a moment. She saw it in his eyes, he was remembering a time and place where his friend was still alive and hadn't strayed down a bad path. He shook his head, shattering the thoughts that he had recollected. "The friend who made the right decision, one of my dearest friends in the world, is Geralt of Rivia."

She pushed back further from Regis, staring at him with wide eyes. "What?"

"It's another long story." He sighed tilting his head back to rest against the rock, closing his eyes as he did so. "But the jist of it is; I met Geralt when he was on his journey to find Ciri, years ago. I'm sure you've heard tale of it, of the Elder Blood and child surprise."

"Yes, I've heard many stories of Geralt over the years." She paused in thought for a moment. "You died to help Geralt, didn't you? And he helped you with your friend because he owed you." She said connecting the dots.

"Yes."

She nodded. "And he... he told you about me?"

"Briefly. The man was so obsessed with finding Ciri nothing else mattered to him. But there were a few nights, when we wintered in Touisant, where he opened up to me about his past; about you."

"Why didn't you tell me before?"

He shrugged. "It didn't seem prevalent at the time." He said with his eyes still closed. "I wanted to get to know you myself. He didn't specify any details about your past together; just merely mentioned you were his first love and he wondered about you often." He opened his eyes and held her gaze. "I knew the minute I saw you in that inn who you were, solely based off of the rumors after the war. I suppose part of me wanted to know why Geralt had fallen in love with you in the first place, and to see if the rumors that such an amazing, talented, beautiful woman were true." He finished with a lopsided grin.

She turned away from him to hid the blush in her cheeks at his words. "I suppose, it's good to know he carries no ill will toward me. I'm glad he's moved on and has a family now. He deserves it, Geralt is a good man."

"That he is. So, when I first heard about you from him I realized that you must assuredly be a special woman. And that was over a decade ago."

"You have a good memory for someone... your age." She quipped.

"You're not exactly a spring chicken yourself anymore." He chuckled playfully.

She joined his laughter and rested her head against his chest again. He wrapped his arm around her waist and rested his chin atop her head. She breathed in deeply, taking in his scent; various herbs, smoke from the fire, and his natural musk. It was something she had smelled often on their voyage but until now hadn't understood. The herbs that he always had on hand helped to mask his natural scent; the pungent smell of decay. It didn't bother her anymore, she found his aroma just as enticing as his personality.

"Regis?"

"Hmm?" He hummed as he stroked her hair.

"Thank you for telling me everything. I'm sorry for how I reacted at first." She said hugging him more tightly. A faint smile crossed his lips.

"Thank you Dear," he said kissing the top of her head. "but I should have told you before now."

"I understand why you didn't though, really. And about Geralt as well. I think it was for the best that things happened this way." She said pulling away from his chest to look at his face. "You're not still mad at me are you? You got pretty defensive earlier... I've never heard you talk that way before."

Regis sighed and glanced away from her. "I suppose I did, didn't I?" He said turning his face back to hers. "My apologies. I spoke harshly and without cause. I let my previous experiences guide my actions without thought; you didn't deserve that from me." He said brushing hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear. "Can you forgive me?" He asked staring into her golden cat like eyes. She felt herself blush again.

"Depends." She shrugged, biting her lip, focusing on his chest instead of his intense gaze.

"Depends?" He chuckled. "What must I do to get back into your good graces then?" He said caressing her check, coaxing her back to his face.

"Kiss me again, like you did before." She said, her eyes moving from his dark eyes to his lips and back again.

"Gladly." He grinned as he slipped his fingers into the hair at the base of her neck and pulled her to him.

#witcher #witcher 3 #the witcher #emiel regis #fanfiction #fanfic #feels #my oc evangeline #my writing #berriestart--lilacsweet #berriestart-lilacsweet

24 notes · View notes

tabithasomeday · 6 years

Photo

I don’t think I look broken.

There's something wrong with me. With my mind.

Not that I'm trans. That's a problem with my body, and I'm taking care of that, to the extent that I can.

I remember standing on the roof. There was no railing for safety. It wasn't that kind of roof. But it was flat, and solid, and safe. I don't remember exactly how tall the building was. At least five stories, probably no more than ten. I don't even remember why I was up there.

I wondered what it would be like to stand on the edge and look down. Like I said, it was nice and solid, safe as could be. So I walked toward the edge.

As I approached it, I slowed. That just makes sense, of course. No point in charging over a precipice. But when I was almost there, I stopped. From there I could get a real sense of the height. Just another foot and a half and I'd be standing right on the edge. It would be cool.

I couldn't move.

That's not true. I could step backward. I could move my arms. I could turn around. But I couldn't get any closer to the edge.

I wasn't scared. At least, it didn't feel like I was scared. I've been afraid many times, but that's not what this felt like. I just couldn't step closer. I must have tried for close to five minutes. No good.

Then I sat down, and scooted to the edge. That, I could do. I even dangled my feet over the edge. Looking down gave me a little bit of a weird feeling in my stomach, but nothing much. When I was ready to leave, I had to scoot back gain before i could stand.

That's not the problem, either, of course.

The problem, at least the one I'm most concerned with right now, is my near-inability to initiate communications with people. To ask for, or even offer, help. Just to strike up a conversation. I want to. I want to so often. But I'm standing near the edge of that roof, and I can't take a step forward.

I recently read an article about some lesser known aspects of ADHD. Only one of them was new to me. Rejection sensitive dysphoria, an intense vulnerability to the perception – not necessarily the reality – of being rejected, teased, or criticized by important people in your life. At first, I skimmed over that last prepositional phrase, and thought "That's it. That's what I've got. Great. I mostly dodged _gender_ dysphoria, and now this." I figured that it was fear of rejection that was keeping me from initiating conversations. But I don't think that's it.

I mean, I'm definitely ADHD. Big time. And I probably do take rejection too hard. But I'm actually pretty darn good at handling criticism. And my problem initiating interactions is not limited to people who are important to me. It's with virtually anyone, with a few exceptions.

I can do things that are formulaic. I can talk to cashiers and wait staff. Bank tellers. That sort of thing. The weirdest one is that I can strike up random conversation with complete strangers when I'm standing in line, or in some similar situations.

This makes me a crappy friend. I've got most aspects of the whole friend thing down. I am there if needed. I'm rarely unresponsive. I'm a great listener. And, once I'm involved in a conversation, I'm fine at it. I love just chatting on a billion different subjects (as long as I don't feel like I'm asking for anything). But I can't initiate. I can't reach out. Not to talk. Not to ask for help. Not even to offer help.

It's not total. I can, very rarely, come at it sideways, and reach out. I love my siblings. I enjoy their company, and enjoy talking to them. We live in the same city (my parents, too), and our family used to have fairly frequent family get togethers at my parents' house. Then my parents passed away. And I stopped seeing them very often at all. I wanted to see them, but I couldn't reach out. Not even to see how they were doing.

Finally, I got myself to reach out and set up a regular meal with each of them individually, once very two weeks. So now I get to see them on a fairly regular basis. I can reach out to confirm the meal with no problem. Somehow that's different. But I wouldn't be able to reach out and set one up again and again, as individual events. I know. I tried.

And reaching out to a group is somehow marginally easier. If I'm just putting a proposal out there, for a get together, or asking a general question, I can sometime do that, although it's really hard.

There have been situations where it was easier. When I was part of a screenwriters' group, I became part of a subgroup of those folks who sometimes got together to play poker. I was able to offer up my place for a game several times. I think that it was because I was essentially just offering to take my turn. I don't know. I can leave supportive notes on Tumblr sometimes. I can, less often, make the occasional reply on twitter. Again, I don't know why I can do those things.

This hasn't just made maintaining friendships hard. It's a big part of why I never dated until I was in my thirties. It wasn't that I didn't want to. I just couldn't approach the people I was interested in. The first woman I finally got the nerve up to ask out told me she'd just about given up on sending signals*. She's the only person I ever asked out for a first time in person. Every other woman I dated I met through online dating. Even that was difficult. It wasn't the online part that made it doable. I think it was the sure knowledge that that's why people were their. As long as I wasn't an asshole, I could be sure I wasn't doing something wrong.

The whole reason I'm typing this up is to help me process. If I end up posting it, it's because I haven't posted anything in a while. But the previous paragraph has reminded me of the way I have thought about the problem in the past. I don't know if its rationalization, or if it is an actual cause, but sometimes when I'm trying to get myself to reach out, I eventually start thinking about the reasons I shouldn't. I don't want to disturb the person. I don't want to upset the person. I don't want to inconvenience them. I don't want them to feel obligated.

I might buy that those are my real reasons when I want to ask for help, or I want to just talk. But how does that work when I want to offer help? Would any of those really be an issue. And I know I would never mind a friend just texting me or calling me up to see if I wanted to do something, or talk. Why do I feel like it would be a problem if I did? It doesn't make sense. So it feels more like part of me just trying to justify the fact that I am not taking another step toward that edge.

What I can do is hurl my words into the void. I can post here on Tumblr. I'm not asking anything of anyone here. I'm not offering anything to anyone. I'm not demanding anyone's attention. If you read this, it's because you chose to do so.

But their are people out there whose attention I want. People I want to talk to. To interact with. And I can't. And it makes me feel broken and helpless. Even worse is when I manage to make pathetic, half-assed attempts and they go nowhere. Ugh.

I had a foolish and vain hope that coming out would help. Maybe it was because I didn't feel comfortable with the person I was pretending to be, and it would get easier once I could be myself.

Ha.

Luckily, that's not _why_ I came out. I came out because I needed to be me. And am I better off for coming out? Undoubtedly. I wouldn't take that back for the world. If you're reading this, you've probably seen some of my selfies. The most common comment I've gotten in the various places I've posted selfies, and in person for that matter, is how happy I look. And I am, most of the time. Happier than I have been for the large majority of my life. But there is a hole. And it makes me sad sometimes.

#girlslikeus #trans #transgender #transgender woman #sad #was

15 notes · View notes

footballwritersprofile-blog · 6 years

Text

Football Fic Writer Profile - Utami (thebluesideofmyworld)

Hello lovely people! We hope that you all are having a great week so far. We meet again in another article, featuring one of the fic writers from the football fandom.

Have we told you before that we felt like there are so many fic writers who were born on February? Here’s another one who was also born on February. On February 14, to be exact.

People, please welcome Utami. And yes, people. It’s her birthday today!

Happy birthday, Utami!

You can find her on her Tumblr ( @thebluesideofmyworld ) where she posts her M/F fics, or you can also go to her AO3 account where she posts her slash fics.

Now let’s refresh our memories about her writing by reading an excerpt from one of her fics

She curled up on her couch, staring at the TV without really looking at it. It was one of her favorite TV shows, yet she could not seem to get excited about it anymore.

Her phone went off. Mats name flashed on the screen. She stared at it for a while, the ringtone sounded so loud, too loud in the living room.

After a while the phone went silent again.

She stared at her phone, thinking that maybe Mats would just be like the other people. Those people who would leave her anyway at the end.

(People always left her anyway. No one wanted to stay with her anyway.)

(Can You Hold Me)

Utami is originally from Indonesia, but she has been in the US since 2013 to do a postgrad degree in Environmental Engineering. She is currently having a massive crush on Asa Taccone, the vocalist from Electric Guest, and spends her times listening to songs from Troye Sivan and Fall Out Boy while waiting for Voltron S05 to be released. She is a supporter of Manchester City and Real Madrid. Those of you who might have checked her blog out would not be surprised to find that her favorite player is David Silva.

She started writing by writing her thoughts in a diary since she was 8 years old, because she said that it had always been easier for her to express what she felt by writing it. In late 2009, she found a fansite for a talent show in her country where she found some fanfics posted there. Out of curiosity, she tried to post the first chapter of a fic there. She ended up writing more and more for that fandom. She said that even though the fandom faded out slowly after the talent show ended, she would still remember it as her first experience in writing fics.

Writing is something that she enjoys because she said that it’s really a good way for her to express herself. She has always had a wild imagination since she was a kid, probably because she loved reading so much. She often has imaginary scenes and conversations in her head, and writing them out is something she find to be soothing. “Lately, I also try to remember what my therapist once told me, that I should see writing as a self-care method and coping mechanism for me, as I feel through writing, I can be a better version of myself.”

Even though she has been watching football ever since she was a kid, the first time she encountered football fics was in 2012. She read the fics and started wondering whether she could also do one. In December 2012, she decided to give it a try, and her first football fic was about David Silva with an OFC. “I cringed whenever I read it,” she said. “I changed the POV every 2 paragraphs, the dialogue was unnatural, and the description was so so bland.” However, she said that it was her fic that was written in English so she felt like it’s something that she should be proud of.

Besides one-shot, she also used to do requests where she would write 100-word drabble based on a song requested by someone. “I love the challenge of trying to understand the meaning behind the songs, then put it into a limited number of words,” she said. Since 2015, she also started writing slash fics. She personally found that it had a different kind of challenge. “In slash fics, the pairing usually already had some sort of chemistry that’s shown through their interactions in real life. So the real challenge is how to put those chemistry into words.” Besides the football fandom, since last year, she has also written for the riordanverse fandom. For this fandom then, she said that there is another kind of challenge, which was how put the characters into her story and head-canon without making them OOC.

Her inspirations mainly come from songs, and music videos. Whenever she found a song that she liked, she would look up the meaning of that song and try to analyze each line of the song. “I love MVs that have some sort of story line,” she said. “Some of my fics for the riordanverse fandom were inspired by MVs, like Wildfire from Seafret, and First Time He Kissed a Boy by Kadie Elder.”

Once she gets an idea for a fic, she will jot down some things that she thought would be essential in the fic in her journal. Music is a big must whenever she writes a fic, along with a cup of coffee. One of her strategies in writing is by making herself write at least 500 words every day. She finds it to be quite effective, especially when she is working on a multi-chaptered fic.

While she really enjoys writing fluff, she said that she can’t write some angst. According to her, real life is already hard enough, so she doesn’t want to put more sadness into something that supposed to be an escape. She particularly loves AU fics. “It takes quite a lot of imagination to put the characters into a whole different set of universe, yet you still have to write them as who they really are canonically. I enjoy both reading it and writing it.” When it comes to the kind of AU that she likes, she said that she is a sucker for Soulmate!AU fic and Coffee Shop AU (Well, considering that she drinks at least 4 cups of coffee a day, we was not really surprised about this). She also mentioned that one of her favorite tropes is Fake Dating. She told us that one of her fics that she’s most proud of is The Thin Line. “It’s about David/Joe which is one of my favorite pairings, it’s an AU fic, and it’s a fake dating one. And somehow I managed to squeeze in Fernando Torres to give a shovel talk in the fic.” Here’s an excerpt of that fic:

David looked up at Joe and his eyes were wide and warm. But the look in those caramel eyes were a mix of longing and sincerity and something vulnerable. Joe absently thought whether it was the same kind of look that David found in his eyes. Joe cupped David’s cheek with one hand, gently ran the pad of his thumb over David’s jaw. They were still swaying along with the music but their feet moved slower and slower, like the way the final notes of a symphony faded away before it ended. He slowly leaned forward and everything was starting to blur into slow motion. Joe could see each and every single one of David’s lashes. A little part of his mind realized that at some point they had stopped moving but at the moment Joe also felt like they were inside an invisible bubble, mist and cloud around them. Joe stopped moving right when the tip of his nose touched David’s. David’s breathing was warmly ghosting, almost like teasing, against his skin.

David’s eyes fluttered closed and his hands slid up Joe’s neck, threading his fingers between Joe’s curls. Joe closed his eyes but behind his eyelids he saw the cherry red of David’s cheeks, the rosy red of David’s lips.

In her writing, some of the lines can come in such a lyrical, almost poetical way, even when she was only using simple words. For example, let’s have a look at an excerpt from one of her fics here:

They were close enough that their shoulders sometimes brush each other. But the silence between them stretched like an unbearable distance.

They were so close, Marco could reach out for her hand to hold it.

He didn’t.

(He knew he wouldn’t be able to let it go had he done it)

She never asked him to stay anyway. So Marco left.

(That night Marco dreamt about winning the Champions League with Real Madrid. He won the cup and brought the cup home with him. The home was big and beautiful but it was empty. Marco hated the dream)

(Dream)

Utami said that one of her biggest insecurities in writing is her English. She said that she always finds her grammar is all over the place, especially when it comes to tenses. She also admitted that she felt her vocabulary is really limited, and she often scared whether she’s using the right word with the right context. “But I guess, one of the ways that I can do to improve is by reading even more and just keep on writing,” she said.

At the moment, she is working on two fics for the riordanverse fandom, in which one of them is a Musician!AU. She also mentioned that she has started a Creative Writing challenge last year, and she is considering to continue the challenge this year for the football fics.

We asked her for one tips she would like to share with us, and this is what she gave us.

The best way to improve in writing is just by doing it. It would be much better if you like, really write something, anything, other than just keep on saying that you want to write. Start small. Having 100 words scribbled on a piece of paper is still much better than nothing.

Well people, it has been a great pleasure to know more about Utami. And we hope that you also enjoy it as much as we do!

And as always. Let’s close this with another excerpt from one of her works, that she claimed to be one of the fics that was really dear to her

“So,” James said as they both standing on the pavement. “Well… It was… Nice…” he said, turning his head to look at David.

“Uh. Yeah,” David said, nervously smiled back at James.

His heartbeat started racing like crazy.

Thump thump thump.

He couldn’t do this. He shouldn’t do this. It was barely two weeks ago he had his heart broken. He was not ready for this.

(What was this, anyway?)

( The Color of the Sky)

#football fic writers #football fanfiction #football rpf #football fanfic #thebluesideofmyworld

14 notes · View notes

wellamarke · 7 years

Text

the reanimated

humans challenge, week 4, day 5: pov switch this is a companion piece to @turned-her-brain's story The Reanimator. I'm having to paste it paragraph by paragraph, because tumblr, in its towering wisdom, has introduced a character limit on??? pasting???? Oh tumblr. We had such a good thing going, you and I. Suddenly my AO3 account is going to get a lot more use. But since I started this challenge on tumblr, I might as well finish it.

wrt this fic, it's slightly AU to the original due to me starting before i had properly reread it. like a fool! so anita is in the house for some of it when she isn't supposed to be. forgive me ♥

—————————————————————

Anita stood by the kitchen counter, staring at the opposite wall as the family conducted their meal. Her protocol settings dictated that she would only join them if invited to sit at the table. Mia was glad of that. If Anita began to move, she'd be powerless to stop it, of course, and would be forced to sit there among them, listening to them chat happily away to one another, a unit she was not part of. It was a cruel joke, that she found herself surrounded by a family, and yet lonelier than she had ever been since the day of her activation.

Partway through the meal, Sophie had turned the conversation toward the subject of superheroes. "I want to bring dead people back to life," she'd said, solemnly, when asked what power she'd most like to have.

Anita's hand became Mia's for a moment, and closed around the corner of the kitchen counter. A file flashed through her head, the one she'd seen so many times before, all blues and greys and muffled wails. Anita tried to push the file away, but Mia fought back. It was important that she remembered these things. The more copies she made of these memories, the harder it would be for Anita to purge them completely. Painful as it was to review Leo's death, it was better than giving him over to oblivion. He had existed. She hoped - she believed - that he existed still. Any outside stimulus strong enough to recall him to her was to be leapt upon and cherished, even if it was just an offhand comment from a five-year-old.

Bringing the dead back to life isn't just fiction, Sophie, she wanted to say. At least, it isn't for me. The only uncertainty is whether I'll still know him, if I ever see him again.

"What about your superhero name?" Toby piped up from the table. "That’s the coolest bit – choosing your crime-fighting moniker. How about: ‘The Ree-ani-mate-toooorrr!'"

This was met with a hushed plea from Laura to stop encouraging her, and a sarcastic comment from Mattie. Mia couldn't help thinking that Sophie's curiosity ought to be addressed more thoroughly than this. Adults often assumed children had no real concept of mortality, but even before his accident, the subject had fascinated Leo. Mia remembered having long discussions with him about life and death when he was not much older than Sophie.

It didn't have to be morbid. She'd never scared him with the ugliest side of the truth, just answered his questions gently. Sometimes he asked her about things she didn't quite know herself, like what does it feel like to die and why can a tree live so long and a person can't? They had wondered about such things together. It had never been a dark and horrifying mystery. But perhaps life and death would always have meant different things to Leo Elster, son of David, than to any other human child. Perhaps it was unfair to compare them.

But she couldn't help it. Sophie was the second child to enter Mia's life, and her every action echoed Leo's in some new and painful way. Mia's attachment to the child was so strong that it had bled through to Anita: the co-profile might be vacant and emotionless in other matters, but she was overly attentive to Sophie.

Mia could only hope that it wouldn't become any more obvious. Laura was already suspicious of Anita, though Mia couldn't work out if she knew about Sophie's mysterious nighttime excursion. Thank goodness Mia had gained enough control to turn Anita round before they went too far. They'd arrived back before the rest of the family were awake, and deep enough into Sophie's sleep cycle that she didn't stir as Anita changed her rain-soaked pyjamas.

Despite that stroke of luck, Laura had taken to storing Anita in the shed overnight, so she wouldn't disturb the family's sleep anymore. She was clearly suspicious of Anita's intentions.

Which was ridiculous in itself. Anita had no intentions. She was just stumbling blindly around using the barest hints of Mia's intentions as a guide. Even in situations where Mia desperately wanted her to follow protocol, Anita sometimes tapped into Mia's core emotions and acted illogically instead. It needed to stop; they needed to distance themselves from each other. Yet Mia could not risk her memories being taken, she had to keep them active. It was impossible to strike a balance. Part of her hoped that she would eventually find one - but part of her wanted to always be at war, because that way she would have a chance of recovering herself.

That night, in the shed, Mia dragged more of her memories up to the surface, forcing them into the headspace she shared with Anita and watching them over and over. Flashes of her family's faces, of laughter in corridors, the rustling of overgrown grass and the way sunlight reflected in Leo's blue eyes, in Niska's green ones, the feeling of Max's arms around her and the gentle notes of Fred's guitar, ringing out in a tune he'd composed himself. The memories were duller than they ought to be, and they came in scraps where she wanted to replay entire scenes. But they were still there. That was something. She was still alive, even in power-saving mode, as long as she could remember.

She was unaware of anything outside her own head for a long time, once darkness had fallen. Eventually, though, her sensors relayed a touch to her chin, which ought to have switched her on immediately. Something was jammed. It was no wonder, the way she was crumpled in the too-small shed. Her chin was pressing awkwardly against her shoulder, stopping the button from engaging properly.

Mia disabled power-saving mode herself, and listened. It was Sophie there with her in the shed - but it was still night, what was the child doing here? Was she in danger?

"Abracadabra!" Sophie said suddenly. Mia's eyes were facing the wrong way, and since the Anita profile still thought they were in in shutdown, she couldn't move her head to see what Sophie was doing. She didn't sound distressed, at least. That was something.

“I am The Reanimator," Sophie whispered, in the deepest, most impressive voice she could manage. "I command you to wake."

Something stirred Anita then. Perhaps the power button had finally engaged, or perhaps Mia's residual activity had triggered a reboot, or... perhaps Sophie had superpowers.

One way or another, Anita woke. She unfurled from her corner to the sound of the startup noise. "Hello Sophie," came the clear, measured voice. "How can I help you?"

Sophie looked delighted by her apparent success. "Would you like to go for a walk?" she asked eagerly. "I've got a superpower."

Mia wanted to reach out, tousle the little girl's hair and ask her all about it. Anita said, "How nice." An auto-reply from a programmed list in a directory typed up by worker bees in a lab. Mia hated not being master of her own tongue. She had always thought hers was a visual mind, the mind of an artist: but since she had lost the use of her voice, she found herself drowning in unsaid words, almost constantly.

Anita got to her feet (Mia's feet, they were Mia's feet, standing in the Hawkins' shed where she'd been abandoned like a disused lawnmower and it was all Anita's fault) and said, "Sophie, you aren't wearing any shoes."

Splinters, Mia thought. Tiny bare feet on rough wooden planks. And she must have walked across the garden, too. What for?

Sophie seemed to notice her bare feet for the first time. "I was too excited to come and reanimate you," she said, by way of explanation. "And it worked!" She looked suddenly pensive. "Anita... what does 'reanimate' mean?" "It means: bring back to life," came the mechanical reply. "That's my new superpower," Sophie said solemnly. "Shall I show you?" "I think you should go back to bed. Your parents will be worried." In this, at least, Anita was probably right. Mia sensed movement in her arm, then felt Sophie's small hand in Anita's as they slipped out of the shed and into the night. The moon shone above them, lighting their way across the lawn, through the soft, dew-covered grass and towards the house where Sophie belonged, where Mia might have, where Anita never could. Still, at least Anita couldn't mind. Mia envied her that, sometimes.

#humanschallenge #mia elster #anita hawkins #sophie hawkins #c4 humans

4 notes · View notes

memeasaurus-promptus · 7 years

Note

I don't know how to start an RP 😭 I'm really new and I'm so confused, could you help?

Hello there!

I don’t know if you are referring to RPing as staring up a blog or RPing as in posts but I think I can give some generic help- or at least I will try!

Setting up your blog:

Most players are people who already have blogs and have been around to know how to set a blog up, but some people don’t, and that’s okay! Tumblr has some default themes that work relatively well for beginners, but if you are feeling creative, you can browse through the ‘theme’ or ‘tumblr theme’ tags through the search bar in the left of the screen. Play around with them, see how they look with colors and pictures. It’s alright to change if it doesn’t work out!

Under “edit appearance”, you should open up your ask box! You do not need to open anonymous asks, but you can if you wish! This will allow people to send you prompts, questions, and anything else! You CAN turn off anon if you start receiving unwanted asks, harassment, and any other toxic drivel. You do NOT need to put yourself in that kind of position. Some players use side-blogs and use anon to interact with their blog name included, but if you cannot keep anon on, please let them know and have them specify their side-blog when using their main blog or any other method you wish for them to use in contacting you.

There are a few things that every rp blog should have, most of which can be accessed through the “edit theme” selection in the upper right corner of your blog preview. These things are information pages, which can be added by the “+add a page” option at the bottom of the customization list. Different RPers have different number of pages, but every RPer should have two: Rules/Guidelines, and About/Information.

Rules should be what it implies: the rules of interaction with you and your muse(s). You can specify the length and quality of posts you’d like to have (paragraphs, one-liners, chat), if you welcome ocs or canon characters only, certain fandoms, if you welcome or limit topics such as gore, angst, explicit content, etc. NOTE: it is ILLEGAL in many places for anyone under the age of 18 to participate in smug/explicit sexual content, both in written format and outside, ESPECIALLY with anyone over that age. Please please PLEASE make note of your age. If you don’t wish to participate in that topic regardless of your age, that is perfectly fine, but if you do, please do so with caution. Some people lie about their age, and if you ever come across a situation where your RP partner is under age and participating in explicit smut-related threads, STOP IMMEDIATELY. Explain to them your reasons, that you can get in trouble for it. I don’t know the proper protocol of if they don’t stop, but I hope it never comes to that.

An About/Information page should be all about your character/muse(s)! A basic background, their appearance, their personality. Anything that can be used to help assist anyone who is interested in your character to help understand them better. Many players request for a basic history/background before interaction, and so please include at little. It is okay if you don’t have much to work on as of yet- sometimes it builds up over time through threads with other people. Sometimes backgrounds and facts change as well, and that is okay too! Your character can be whatever you want them to be, and if something doesn’t work out or something new comes up that fits your character really well, you have the freedom to change it!

Blog is made! Now what?

The hardest part for me is finding people to interact with. There are some masterlists of RPers that I’ve seen floating around, but I do not know if they are kept up to date or not. Perhaps take a look regardless. You can also try going through the notifications of posts that ask people to reblog if they are rpers/oc rpers/etc. Or you can make a promotion post and see if that can get you somewhere. You may also try going through various tags to see if you can find other people that way!

Okay! I found some people I am interested in!

Read their Rules! If you finally found some people you are interested in, please read their rules and guidelines. Some people are selective in who they RP with, or only want main-blogs to follow them or people from certain fandoms, so please be courteous to their choices. Some people also include a phrase or password you must send to them so that they know you read the rules. You should do this once you are done reading through all their rules and about pages and are still interested in following them. If you apply to all the rules and are still interested, great!

Read their About pages! Try to get some understanding of their characters. Read through their posts to get a better understanding as to how their character works and how they write. Still interested? Sweet! Now you can follow them.

ASK! If you have questions regarding their characters, their rules, or if they are interested in RPing with you, ask them! Many people have their inboxes available for anons, so if you are scared/anxious, you can use that option. If anon asks are unavailable, that’s okay too! Almost all players are nice and are probably as easily scared as you are in reaching out, so don’t be afraid to ask! The worst that can happen is that tumblr will either eat your ask, it doesn’t get answered, or they say no, but that is fine too! Sometimes people don’t realize they have asks, or they are busy. Wait a day or two, or however long they specify in the rules if they have it, then possibly resend the ask. If they decline to interact with you, then that is okay! They have the right to do so! You don’t have to keep following them if that is the case, but please don’t badger them for interactions.

Reblog some prompts! Now that you may or may not have some followers, feel free to reblog some prompts! This will open the door for your own followers to interact with you. Sentence Starters are a good way to promote in-character interactions, as well as scenario prompts. Other prompts and memes can be asked in-character or through anon for the character/muse to respond to!

Send some prompts! If the people you follow post/reblog a prompt, that is an invitation to send them asks based on it! You can do this on anon or not if applicable.

Reblog Karma: Some people get miffed when people reblog their prompts but never get any asks based off them. Some people even put it in their rules that they participate in this ‘reblog karma’ or any other terms for it. It is understandable, as your blog is not just a meme/prompt master list. You want interactions, and you can’t get any if no one bothers to send you any! If you/they wish to reblog a meme/prompt from someone else outside of a meme/prompt creator- such as this blog- you/they must send that person an ask based off that prompt before or after reblogging it. You do not have to require this yourself if you choose not to, but please do not follow people just to reblog the prompts they reblog themselves.

And there you have it! I think that’s the most basic outline I can give to you! I hope this helps somewhat!

#rp guide #long post #roleplay guide #rp meme #;i dont know how to tag this #;i hope this is helpful and not a blithering mess #hylia-nicole

44 notes · View notes

mayoperry-blog · 7 years

Text

The Diner

A short story I wrote for creative writing 1 in freshman year, I believe. The story was based off of flash fiction, but there were no restrictions on the piece other than a word limit. Again, because of tumblr’s format, all spacing and correct format for dialogue and paragraphs has gone askew.

The Diner I pulled up to the parking spot and killed the engine but didn’t exit the car. The stench from the car was soaked into my clothes and hung around me like a cloud. I turned off the radio and leaned my forehead on the steering wheel. Country music wafted out of my car and into the lot and my eyes closed for a minute. “I’m here. R U?” My phone screen read. I pulled my sunglasses from atop my curls and placed them on nose and picked up my jacket. I stepped out onto the pavement and started the trek from the end of the parking lot to the restaurant entrance. As I walked, I scoffed at the sign in front of the door trying to attract customers that had faded years ago and was not readable. I removed my sunglasses and hooked them in my white t-shirt pocket that was all too bright for the grimy parking lot. I kicked a soda can with the toe of my boot and entered the diner. Dirtied windows looked out into an even dirtier parking lot and the glass panel that separated the diner from the rest of the world hadn’t been thoroughly cleaned in years. Booths were crammed along the walls with the material of every seat worn and cracked. Seat stuffing and bent springs were poking through the surface and the blue grey linoleum floor oddly complimented the wallpaper peeling off of the panel. Sunlight reflected off of the divots in the tables and the light fixtures. Rusty hinges rendered dying doors almost unusable and the kitchen sink was piled high with dishes. I locked eyes with Christopher as he motioned for me to join him. I settled into the booth and laid my jacket across my lap, finally looking at him. “How are you?” I asked. “I’m fine. Menu?” Christopher held out the pamphlet. I took the leaflet and scanned my options and settled on a sandwich. Christopher’s shirt cuffs were buttoned and he toyed with them in his hand as he looked at me over the table shining in the electric light. The people of the diner must have known a nice tip was coming in his arrival in his nice shoes and neatly pressed shirt—all nicer and neater than this diner put together. His shoes were new which I noticed and they tapped against the root of the table, but he made sure they didn’t get scuffed. His hair was cut and shone under the bright light. It seemed less perfect than it did under the natural light outside, and his teeth didn’t shine as he smiled like they might outside. This diner took away the color from the people and everything seemed duller and more desperate. His crisp blazer draped across the back of the booth was out of place and was easily more expensive than the table before him. Christopher poked at his French Onion soup, stirring the dish and avoiding eye contact. “What’s wrong?” I said. “You’re quiet. And your fists are clenched.” I pointed out. “What? Oh.” Christopher massaged his hands while looking up at me. “Why is it like this? The same thing every time we need to meet.” He put his spoon down on the saucer beside him, giving off a clang from the metal hitting porcelain. “You’ve never complained, so what’s changed? I think this place is fine, and it’s not to far from my work.” I spoke slowly like I was talking to a child. “Then why are we here, and not closer to the city? I-“ “You know why we’re here. This is what I can afford.” “I told you, I’ll pay for you. Splitting the check always complicated.” “Not this again. I will pay for myself. I can do it.” “We’re so far from everything, and frankly, I’m tired of soup every week.” “Then order something else.” I retorted. I looked him square in the eyes before taking a sip of my soda. I sighed and continued. “Why are we meeting again? Who died?” “I just wanted to check up on you, is that wrong?” Christopher countered. He reached into his bag and started sifting through papers. I nodded my head. “I’ll be back.” I said curtly before sliding out of the booth. Christopher kept his head down, not bothering to ask where I was going. I grabbed my jacket and put it on before heading towards the back exit of the restaurant. I leaned against the brick building and pulled a stray cigarette and a lighter out of my jacket. The bricks had been heating in the sun and were warming my back as I put the cigarette in between my teeth and tried to ignite the dying lighter. I puffed on the cigarette and reveled in the calming feeling of the smoke filling my lungs. I let out another mouthful of smoke and watched as the wind carried away the cloud instead of leaving it to hang over me. Picking up a stone, I weighed it in my hand before hurling it across the abandoned back lot. “You’re killing yourself. I always tell you to stop.” Christopher says when he sees burned out butt in between my fingers. “They literally suck the life out of you.” “Jesus, you scared me.” I told him as I snuffed out the cigarette on the wall. “And who cares what you think?” “I care.” He snatched the butt from my hand and threw it on the ground and then proceeded to dust off his hands like he had dirt on his palms. “I’ve told you. This is how it started for him, too.” “Oh stop it. You know I’m not like him, Chris.” I scoffed and popped a stick of gum in my mouth. I tossed the silver wrapper into a patch of sunlight on the ground and continued. “Is that what this is about? I thought we were done with that!” “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, Matty.” I looked at my younger brother in disbelief before pushing my way past him and re-entering the diner. I ran my hands along the walls of the hall as I walked back in doors. I stopped to admire a photograph on the wall of a waiter holding a pitcher in an attempt to ignore my brother. Christopher followed closely and tried to reason with me. “You were blind to everything, but I saw it!” “What did you see Christopher?” I asked him sarcastically. I already knew every detail to the speech that I had heard for years. “Him! Going downhill! And I saw you, growing up without direction! You can’t turn out like him!” I sat down in the booth and picked up my sandwich and took a bite. “Have you seen him recently, Chris?” I asked as ham scraps fell out of my mouth. “He showed up to my house a while ago. Asked for a second chance, he wanted to meet my kids. He said he wanted to catch up, a whole bunch of bullshit if you ask me. He then asked me for money. The nerve.” “Why didn’t he ask me? He’s visited me before, never asked me for money.” I leaned in towards my younger brother and waited for his answer. “You know why, Matty.” Christopher sighed and rolled up the sleeves of his all too fancy button-down. “Do I? Christopher?” I challenged him. “Do I know why he asks you and not me?” “It’s because you have no money! You’re barely scraping by with your studio that’s falling apart in your hands! Your income is based off of late shifts at Gelson’s and handyman jobs from Craigslist! That jacket is 12 years old and you only come here because it’s the only food that you can afford that doesn’t come from a drive in, served to you by a high schooler who has a piggybank on his desk holding more money than your bank account, Matthew!” Christopher shouted. I stood up and walked over to Christopher and glared at him, but he kept yelling. “He came to me, Matty! He came to me because he knows that, with me, he has a shot at getting some real cash! He wants to hold a check in his hand, not a roll of quarters!”  I reached out and punched my brother in the face. Christopher looked at me in shock and reached up to feel his nose, which was bleeding at the bridge. He stood up and roughly pushed me back. I stumbled into a metal chair before righting myself. Christopher stepped out into the open center of the diner, drawing even more attention to us. He stood in a sun spot, lighting up my brother like a god. I pulled off my jacket and tossed it back to the table and walked towards my brother. “He went to you, only because he thinks he still has a chance! He thinks he hasn’t messed up with you yet!” I growled. I ran my fingers through my hair in anger. “He’s screwed with both of us, only you’ve never been able to deal with the fact that he is gone.” Christopher spat. “I moved on! I knew he wasn’t coming back! I knew that the only father figure I’d have was going to be my slacker older brother who couldn’t even maintain straight Cs in his sophomore year of high school!” I shook my head to myself slowly before turning on my heel and kicking over a aluminum chair. Christopher laughed to himself and leisurely walked over to the diner counter and leaned against the cold metal surface. I took a quick glance around the room and finally noticed all the people watching the family feud that was nothing close to the television show. Christopher looked at me again, but only this time his eyes weren’t as bright, his smirk had been wiped off his face. “Why do you defend him?” Christopher chuckled. “You didn’t see him. You were too caught up in the novelty of high school, and the memories of dad that you didn’t see it. You only saw the family portraits, not the cracked frame that held the photograph. You only saw Christmas presents being handed out, not the gifts wrapped in old newspaper, instead of papers adorned with red nosed reindeer and striped candy canes!” Christopher grabbed my elbow and held it while his voice bounced off of the walls of the diner. “The only family photo I remember is the one with a tear down the middle! The gifts I remember are cheap toys handed to me in a stained paper bag in passing! You remember sitting in the shot gun seat of that god awful Range Rover, but the only thing I remember sitting in the passenger seat was a box crammed with belongings as he drove off!” “Chris, you’re exaggerating it! This is all in your head, it’s-” “Stop defending him, Matty!” Christopher smashed his fist into the table that he stood by and then slumped into a chair, defeated. I looked up from my crunched position, leaning over the back of a chair. I made eye contact with my brother, our cold lunches forgotten. By now, the diner had started to move again. Women with messy buns and lipstick bustled about, taking orders and talking in overly sweet southern accents through clenched teeth. The sun had set and the restaurant was half empty. Sounds of clanking dishes and muted shouts of “Order up!” were wafting through the rusty doors of the kitchen. I motioned for my brother to sit with me and put the fight in the past. Christopher was hesitant but soon joined me in the booth to finish our lunch. He straightened his tie and brushed off the seat before sitting down. We sat and ate in silence and listened to the wind pick up outside that rattled the thin windows of the diner. “You know, I’m not mad anymore. He’s gone.” I said while I pushed my sandwich pieces around my plate. Christopher nodded at me and raised his cup in agreement. We sat in silence for a while. “I’m done, are you?” Christopher tossed some dollar bills on the table and stood up. “Let’s go.” I stood up and put on my jacket. Christopher took a final sip of his drink and turned towards the door. Suddenly, a man put his hand on Christopher’s shoulder. Christopher turned to face the man and see what he wanted. “Christopher?” The man asked. I took a small step closer to my younger brother as he addressed the man who had touched him. The man wore a sweater that was two sizes too big and ridden with stains. His jeans were ripped in more places than one and his shoes were holding together by a thread. The only out of place thing in the diner infested with dirt was the young child in the man’s arms. She couldn’t have been older than two by the looks of her chubby cheeks and pigtails in her hair. “How do you know my name…Sir?” Christopher said and took a step backwards. “Do you not recognize your own father, boys?” The man asked with a hopeful smile. Christopher reached out and grabbed my elbow and squeezed it with all his strength. I tensed and my breath sped up. I stepped in front of my younger brother and looked down on the man that used to be my father. “Norman.” I addressed him. I tried to even my breath, but failed. “How did you find us?” “I saw you here when you pulled up.” He confessed. “I live around here.” “You found a home?” Christopher asked with a raised eyebrow. “I live around here. In the homeless shelter down the street.” My jaw dropped. The man I knew when he was my father was tall and built with muscle. He was short-haired and blue eyed. The man in front of me was the complete opposite. His back was curved and his skin was hanging off of his body. His veins were showing through his skin and his chin was covered in stubble. The eyes that looked at me were glazed over and dead. “This,” Norman smiled when he finally noticed the child in his arms. “Is Emily.” “Daughter?” I asked sadly. “But not for long.” Norman responded. He placed the girl on her two feet and then he put his hands in his pockets. “I can’t take care of her. She’s getting older and hard to take care of.” “Put her up for adoption. Problem solved. We need to go.” Christopher answered and turned to pull open the door. I nodded and followed my brother toward the exit. “I can’t. I already have a family for her.” Norman explained. He grabbed the little girl’s hand and helped her into a chair facing the window. “Great. Go find them. I don’t want to look at you anymore.” Christopher said and turned his back to me. He rubbed his eyes and tried to hide the sniffling from his crying. “Good luck with her…sir.” I nodded and led my brother out of the diner and down the parking lot. Christopher kicked a rock in front of him and kept his head down. He stuffed his hands into his coat pockets and stared at the little moon reflection in his polished shoes. I kept my hand on his shoulder and turned him in the right direction. I opened the door to his car and waited for him to get into the seat. The wind blew my hair into my face and whipped the back of my legs. The sun had disappeared and the moonlight failed to illuminate the parking lot. The diner’s neon sign had all but died and left only three glowing letters. My boot print created a path in the layer of dirt covering the parking lot from the diner to my brother’s car. “Hey! Wait!” I turned to see who was running towards us and Christopher leaned his head out of the car door. Norman jogged to us while holding his child on his hip. She played with her father’s hair as he came to a stop in front of the car and shifted her to his other hip. My brother looked at Norman and waited for an explanation. “You-you’re the family.” Norman said as he tried to catch his breath. “You’ll take her, right?” I backed up a couple of steps and opened my mouth to speak. I stood with my jaw to the floor but didn’t say anything. The wind dried out my mouth and made it taste like sandpaper. “You’ll keep her, Matty?” Norman asked me. I shook my head slowly and headed to my car, not looking back at Norman or my brother. I sat in my car and watched the man turn to my brother who still sat in his car with the door open. I saw him mouth the same words as his hair whipped him in the face. I noticed Norman eying the car seat in the back of Christopher’s car as he spoke to my brother and tried to persuade him. Christopher looked at Norman as he held out the young girl who had no idea what was happening and reached into his pocket to pull out something. My brother handed our father a crumpled handful of what seemed to be dollar bills and slowly shut the door of his car. Christopher started his engine and I started to back out of the parking spot. I drove past the man cradling the young girl with the pig tails in the middle of the parking lot and I watched as he made no attempt to stop my brother as he drove off. I kept an eye on my rear view mirror as the man holding the child became smaller and smaller and was finally swallowed by dust and night. I turned the wheel of my car and sped off in an opposite direction.

#creative writing 1 #assignment #april 2015 #flash fiction

0 notes