Apologies to anyone who messaged me regarding comissions or requests in the last...damn I guess it would be a year now.
I have had a lot on my plate (divorce, new jobs, raising my child, housing stuff) and I've had a few false starts while trying to get back into writing and fufilling requests.
I miss writing so much and honestly have almost been avoiding tumblr because of how much it feels like I keep failing at what Im passionate about.
Coming back and seeing the amount of engagement from old and new followers I've had, even while gone, is extremely heartening and touching.
I want to get back on the horse even with the new hurdles I've been facing.
Thank you all for waiting so patiently on me while I try to do that.
So its spring/summer which means I'm coming out of a yearly funk cycle that often results in me being a writing hermit and not being very active.
I've also had a few big personal life changes in the last 6 months so I've not really been nurturing my writing or been very active in any of my communities.
I'm going to be taking some time to knock out some ideas I've had catalogued for a while and possibly posting some stories in my backlog because I've had them written for a while ( a few pre date this blog by months and a couple have even been languishing for years).
So in the coming weeks please keep an eye out for new content.
To those who've been waiting on free requests, once again I apologize for this last year being quite crazy and just generally not conducive to writing.
I love you all my dears, remember to drink water, take your meds, love your monsters, and love yourself.
~This is a lovely, fluffy commission for @tinseltina for two unicorn OCs. Originally their names were Greta and Alphonse but i was really given free reign with most of this one. It is SFW and a teeny bit angsty, but don’t worry, there are always happy endings when I get my way.~
You were ushered into a room and pushed behind a modesty screen, as your dressers helped you into a lovely silk gown. The gown was generously sized to fit your curves, and you remembered the seamstress remarking about it, jealousy made people say the most interesting things. Such nasty words were forgotten, however, the moment you saw yourself in the looking glass. The light blue complimented your mane very well. It was such an inky black that it looked blue in the light. It was the signature of your lineage, your mother had been elated when you had inherited it, you however longed for something different, something brighter.
You watched the hairdresser style it up with a few curls hanging down, as was the fashion. Some lovely pearl clips were the final touches. Your horn was noticeably devoid of decoration, as every adornment carried a meaning. This ball was your introduction to society, having come of age only weeks before; you were not expected to have any rings.
As you entered the grand hall of Emerson house, the home of a generous local Lord, few people even seemed to notice you. This was not surprising as your family, though strong and industrious, were seen as lesser. Your parents had made their fortune and earned their titles, and while you saw only their hard work, others couldn’t shake the stigma.
When you arrived at the head of the hall, your father pulled you toward the band and called for the music to stop.
“My friends, it is time. Tonight, I am honored to introduce to you all, my daughter. Lady Philippa Cimarron!”
There was a smattering of applause and some bowing heads, you could see horns bobbing all over the room. The rings of status did not go unnoticed. There were captains of industry, war heroes, even a few artists. Every so often you would see a ring denoting a higher status, but you had not expected many. The rich loved to rub elbows with the titled but those of higher ranks didn’t often attend such affairs. You stood still as your first ring was affixed to your horn, a lovely silver one with small seed pearls and one large black pearl. This one symbolized your new title and your lineage. Your parents, had made their money and earned their titles thanks to the oceans. They had designed this ring of status to reflect that
The music resumed as did the gossiping, you were brought to acquaintance after acquaintance, for more personal introductions. You knew that most young ladies would be bubbling with joy on the eve of their coming out, but you just wanted to have a drink, stuff yourself with hors d'oeuvres and settle in to a nice book.
The time grew late, and you could see the delicate apple fritters calling your name, when someone literally called your name.
“Lady Cimarron, a pleasure, I’ve been trying to get a moment with you all evening”
You turned to find yourself face to horn with a lord.
“Oh, My lord, my apologies, I’ve been engaged all night. I believe we have not been properly introduced”
Just then your mother swooped in from who knows where, to make introductions, and silently correct your posture.
“Oh my dear, I’ve been looking everywhere for you-“
A fib, you had been standing off to the side, eyeing those fritters for a good fifteen minutes, and she had passed you. Twice.
“My lord, this is my daughter, Lady Philippa Cimarron, Pip, this is Lord Rowan Cavallo.”
And like a gust of wind she was gone.
“My lady, could I trouble you for a dance?”
This was the first time you had really looked at his Lordship and he was handsome. A strong nose and chin, lovely long eyelashes, and his mane and hide were both red as ripe cherries. He was a bit shorter than you, but his family were well known to be of small hearty stock.
You could feel a blush starting to creep up your face, as you realized you had been staring without saying anything at all. You finally opened your mouth and prayed nothing embarrassing would come out.
“It would be no trouble at all, Sir”
Nailed it.
The dancefloor was sparsely populated, and you two became the buzz of the party. A Cimarron with a Cavallo? You could hear eyes widening, mouths gaping, and it made you smile.
His height, which you hadn’t factored in, was not much of an issue. Certain moves were more difficult, but he was light on his feet, and graceful as any dancer you’d seen. It was the highlight of the evening. You did leave the dancefloor, eventually, and Rowan escorted you to the table you had been eyeing so fervently.
“Some refreshment, Lady Philippa?”
“Oh please don’t call me that, I’m not at all used to it, just call me-“
“Pip?” He smiled and handed you a glass full of rum punch, he carried one as well, and a plate of apple fritters, stacked high. You nodded, looking away, the nickname was maybe a bit childish, but you preferred it to the alternative.
“Shall we go to the balcony, I believe tonight is a full moon?”
You were looking longingly at the platter of fritters, but nodded and allowed him to escort you, arm in arm, to the open double doors that led outside.
Once away from the party, mostly out of the scope of prying eyes, he offered you an apple fritter. You could have kissed him for that alone but settled for a smile and whispered thanks.
“So do you have any childhood nicknames I can leverage against you, or did you grow up free of such shackles?”
He laughed, it was a warm and lovely sound, that felt like home. That made you smile wider.
“Oh, more than I can remember. I am the tallest of the runts, at one point my older brother called me “Fetch” because I was the one to fetch things off high shelves for him.”
You tried to suppress a giggle but failed miserably.
“Well I wouldn’t want to call you that, as ironic as it would be”
He feigned shock and tossed you another fritter, which you caught, without dropping even a crumb on your dress.
“Well how about Red. Unimaginative, I know, but it suits me”
Anything unimaginative did not suit him at all. He was so…colorful, both literally and figuratively. His brassy hide made your grey freckled one look so drab. But if he noticed, he didn’t show it, he looked at you like you held the moon betwixt your fingertips and you could not figure out why.
“How about I just stick to Rowan, it suits you too, and I like how it sounds”
You agreed. Rowan and Pip, though he would call you Pippy to get on your nerves, never mind that you actually loved it when he did.
~~~~~
After fritters on the balcony there were many more occasions for you to see His Lordship. Every time you did it was like your birthday came early. Rowan often brought you gifts, small trinkets, odd baubles. Usually it was something useful, like hair pins, or new sewing needles. Sometimes they were more unusual.
There was the time he brought you a pendant, fashioned out of a fossilized invertebrate. Or the time you arrived home from a few weeks away, to find him, far into your garden, bedecked in a beekeeping outfit with a half a dozen hives. He had a kit for you, unbelievably it fit, a bit too well in fact. Your assets were emphasized in a way most scandalous, and you swore you caught him looking at your rear, more than once. But the honey you harvested was the sweetest you had ever tasted, and you thanked him profusely.
For the anniversary of your meeting, you were gifted a looking glass. The handle was inlaid with mother of pearl, the glass itself was an odd tint. Rowan had warned you that it held more secrets than you could know. You had smiled, thinking it must have been him waxing poetic.
A fortnight later, you were as ill as you could remember. All you wanted was to hear him laugh, talk to him a bit. You missed his fiery spirit and infectious happiness. But he was out on business, some five hundred miles away, as opposed to the five miles down the road, where Emerson place sat.
As you held up the glass he had given you, to admire it, as much as to see how you had begun to flush, your face changed. As real as the horn on your head, Rowan was there, in the looking glass.
You shrieked but no noise came out. His face was in his hands, and he seemed to be whispering to himself. After a few minute you called out his name, needing to know just how far this fever dream would take you.
“Rowan are you there?”
He looked up with a start and picked up whatever must have been broadcasting his image into your bedroom.
“Pippy, dear, you’ve finally figured out the glass, I see. And not a moment too soon, you look-“
“Awful?”
You supplied, in the most pitiful tone. To your ears, you almost sounded like a braying basset hound.
“No, never that, but certainly pale. What is it, some summer gripe? I hate that I’m so far from you, If I were there-“
You smiled at his anxious face.
“You would what? Damn all social norms and expectations and burst into my room in the dead of night, ready to be my nursemaid? Or would you cart me off to a far away oasis to convalesce in finery? Rowan there isn’t much of anything you could do, don’t feel bad.”
He seemed wistful, then spoke.
“No, dear Pip. As much as I might like to, I would restrain myself, and wait to call upon you at a decent hour. Then I would make you tea with that lovely honey from your hives, and some honey tarts too. And while you ate and drank your fill I would read you all your favorite books until you fell asleep by the fire. Like in winter when your bed was just too cold, and the chair by the hearth was just right. I called upon you to find you asleep with a volume of Chaucer splayed on your chest”
The blush on your face overtook the pallor, and you almost covered the looking glass.
~~~~~
It was then that you realized you were in love with Rowan. You swore it could never be, what would people say, his family most of all. There was no happy ending with him. At least none that you could see. His family had already sniffed at his decision to see you, in lieu of looking for a bride.
You decided, however, that you didn’t give a good god damn. Even if you couldn’t marry, you’d love him like no one else.
When he arrived back, he called on you. You locked your doors and pulled him onto your balcony. You talked briefly, and when he left you kissed him. He said nothing but kissed your cheek before departing.
He called on you more often after that. Your time together was spent in increasingly intimate ways, moonlight walks in the garden. Sitting nestled in private, reading poetry to one another. There was a spark to each touch, every uttered word, that told of a love so deep and overwhelming. Some of the touches themselves were overwhelming, as he seemed to show a never-ending fondness for caressing your curves and whispering sweet things about his favorite parts of you.
Each time the goodbyes became longer, the kisses more intimate. He always seemed to taste of apples and honey and you craved those kisses. You felt warm and lightheaded, and all you knew was that you wanted more. You never wanted to let go, but oh, how lovely it was when you were reunited. It could have been a week, or an hour and you would still feel as if an eternity had passed, and on seeing you again he would wrap you up in another hug or pull you into his lap to be doted on and cherished.
When he was away for business or just couldn’t find the time to call, he would call to you from your glass. You spent many nights, cuddled up with that looking glass, listening to him read, wishing to hold him in your arms. Perhaps even thinking some terribly untoward things.
~~~~~~
After this had gone on for many weeks you realized that you had never defined what this was, this entanglement you found yourself in. It was not an engagement, as such, but there were whispers of the young lord and his lady friend. There were people speculating on how long it would take for you to “start showing” which you found in poor taste. And as much as you loved him, the rumors irked you, and worried your father. Your mother was at least oblivious, focusing on finding matches for your elder sisters.
The final straw came when his Dowager grandmother came calling. He was abroad again, and she accused you of entrapping him, with magic, and forbade you to see hm again.
You were hurt, offended, and down-right pissed. It was then that you decided to attempt the impossible. You would invite him to tea and give him an ultimatum. Engagement or a return to platonic normalcy.
The following morning you awoke, resolved in your decision. At breakfast, however, before you could ask your mother to pass the jam, she was bursting with “good news”.
“Oh Pip, did you hear? One of the Cavallos, the young one with the red hair. The family announced an engagement. Some lovely young thing, met her while they were all abroad, set up by a cousin apparently. Isn’t it so nice? They plan to wed this month, at Emmerson place, and we’ve all been invited”
You didn’t want jam anymore, or tea, or even apple fritters. You hoped you never ate another apple, or drop of honey, in your life. You hadn’t expected him to choose before you even offered up the options. Later that evening you fell ill, and this strange mystery ailment kept you confined to the chair by your hearth, reading until your eyes burned. Sleep did not come easily that night.
The last week of Rowans trip, you refused to use the looking glass, keeping it under a piece of black cloth. You were in a kind of mourning, as this would be the most painful loss of your young life.
~~~~~~~
The month leading up to the wedding dragged on, days bled into one another and you could hardly find a reason to get up. You seemed to take ill for days at a time and no one could find the cause. Doctors were called, nurses hired, but you turned them all away. Rowan came calling but you refused to see him. If the passage of time had been known to you, you would have realized that he had called on you every day since he returned. Sometimes twice. But you saw no one. You would keep your bees and read your books and you would do it alone.
The day before the wedding you awoke before the sun, with burning questions. Why? Why now, why so sudden, why didn’t he tell you? You looked to the mirror, begging it for answers and in it you saw Rowan, awake, writing out a letter to you. You vowed to get your answers.
You bathed, dressed, and did your hair. As you placed the final pearl clip there was a knock. You answered knowing already who it would be.
Rowan had delivered a letter, inviting you to tea that afternoon.
“For whatever I did, I am sorry. Please come.”
You sent a reply, that you would indeed be there.
“You did nothing, I was just unwell”
When you arrived, you heard laughter. Rowans lovely laugh, warm as a fire and familiar as your favorite chair. Another, sweet as your honey, light as fresh whipped cream. That would be her, you supposed.
As you entered the grand hall, you were led to the balcony where you were awaited. Rowan jumped up. This was where your friendship, your love for him, began. You felt like a kicked pup until you looked at him. Rowan looked at you and nothing else. He seemed awed, as a man seeing a sunset for the first time.
You held out your arms, he almost tripped over his feet wrapping you in a hug so lovely and tight you knew you would miss it the moment he let go, but he didn’t. From then on, he seemed to be constantly touching you.
“Pippy, it’s so good to see you” he said as he continued holding your hand, it seemed inappropriate in front of his fiancé, but you wouldn’t complain.
“I’ve missed you, Rowan, I’m sorry it’s been so long. The illness, I just couldn’t seem to shake. Finally it is resolved”
He took your hand in both of his and looked into your eyes.
“Oh, Pip, you know I would have seen you no matter what, I’d brave anything for you”
He smiled warmly at you and your heart fluttered. Stupid heart. You looked away from him and remarked on the odd choice of location.
“Oh, I picked this balcony, so we could have fresh air and a view. I didn’t want you feeling cooped up”
You blushed and tried to look away again, but you only saw Her.
Lovely red mane, and cream-colored coat, she was a sight. Surely a fine lady, befitting his name.
“Rowan, we’ve been so rude, please introduce me to-‘
“Yes, of course, I’m terribly sorry”
He had seemed to have forgotten that anyone else was there.
“Pip, this is Elaine. Elaine, this is Lady Philippa Cimarron”
“A pleasure to meet you, Philippa.”
“The pleasure is mine, call me Pip”
Any friend, or lover, of Rowans was a friend of yours.
“Oh, please call me Lainie”
“Of course. Now if I’m not being too forward, could you pass me the marmalade, Lainie, I am famished.”
She gave you a smile, fresh and bright as a spring morning. Hell, you’d marry her if you were so inclined, and not in love with her betrothed.
“Only if you’ve brought some honey to share, Ro tells me that it’s the best he’s ever had”
You did bring a fresh pot of honey to share, a peace offering. But you refused the apple fritters that Rowan offered, you didn’t know if you could stomach the taste of apple. The three of you spent tea time talking up a storm, you learned all about where Rowan had been traveling, and he hinted that he had a surprise for you. Lainie seemed unbothered by this, insisting that you would love it.
But all you wanted was a moment alone, you could ask him why and this would all be over with.
“Like stars on a perfect night sky”
You heard Rowan remark, and he was once again not paying a bit of attention to anything else in the world but you.
“You are sickeningly sweet, you know?”
“Well some of us know how to flatter. But I know you prefer stoicism; your betrothed is evidence of that”
You were confused, when another fine lady entered the salon. She seemed to float, or glide, and you saw why. She was a Naga, with a long jeweled tail, not bedecked in the more modest fashion of the country. Was Lainie not Rowans wife-to-be?
“Oh hush, cousin. How was your meeting, my love?”
Cousin? Lainie was Rowan’s cousin? Not fiancé? You needed a strong drink and an explanation. The Naga hovered behind Lainie, hands on her shoulders, and placed a kiss on her horn.
“Oh it was lovely, dear, but I am afraid we must go finish our last errand. Flowers wait for no mortal”
“Flowers for the wedding tomorrow…your wedding?”
Lainie nodded excitedly.
“Yes, my dearest Opal is very particular when it comes to flowers and our florist backed out at the last moment, so we are forced to find something the day before our wedding.”
You found yourself overjoyed and feeling generous.
“Go to my estate, I have extensive gardens, all tended with love and greatest care. Tell them I sent you and you can have as many blossoms as you need”
Lainie looked elated and Opal seemed impressed. They thanked you and hurried off.
“That was a lovely thing you did, Pippy. I’ve missed your goodness, I’ve missed you.”
You wanted to reply in kind, but you stayed silent, still focused on the empty spot Lainie had previously occupied. You were still a bit in shock.
The young, redheaded Cavallo. Rowans cousin was the one being married, not him. You had almost thrown away the love of your life over some vague wording. You still didn’t deserve him. But damned if you would throw away even one more chance.
“Rowan are you in love with me?”
You looked to him to find him, mouth agape.
“I’ve loved you for so long, since you called me “Pip”, or maybe even since you asked me to dance”
He still did not speak, only he came to you, on his knees, and hugged your middle, carefully laying his head in your lap.
‘I have been yours since the moment you took my hand and let me lead you around the dancefloor”
“Pippy, Philippa, marry me, please?”
You shook your head and his face fell.
“I want to, Rowan, I do, but you need to know.”
So, you told him of your month of self-imposed exile, your massive misunderstanding. You told him of the ultimatum and his grandmother, her accusations.
He listened to every moment, every morsel of information. When you came to his family, he rose and took your hands in his. He pulled you to your feet and he kissed you like he’d been searching for you all his life. You didn’t ignore the roaming hands, one on your ass, fondling, one in your hair, tangled and tugging ever so slightly. You let out a whimper as he nipped your lip, you were undone. When he pulled away he asked you again.
“Pippy, just marry me, they can be damned for all I care. All I want is you”
You couldn’t speak for fear of the noise you’d make, so you nodded, smiling so wide your cheeks began to burn.
“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that”
“The groping, or the proposing?”
You hung your arms about his neck and kissed his cheek.
“Would it be naughty to say both of them, in that order?”
“Rowan!”
He smirked, looking nothing short of devious.
“You asked, and if I’m honest, when I got to know you for who you are, that’s the moment I knew you were the only one I wanted, that I was in love. However, I was in lust the moment I saw your figure. The shape of you in that gown made me wish for you in my bed and little else. You can’t imagine what I have planned for our wedding night. I know a priest, it could be tonight if you are-“
You kissed him before he could say anything else. He still tasted of honey and apples.
Today is my birthday, and I'm announcing a change. For the next week everything under 5000 words is 30 percent off.
As a note I do not take payment until completion of the piece and the price we negotiate is what you pay. So if I am excessively verbose and write double what you ordered? No problem you still pay the original agreed upon price.
I'm trying to make some extra money to buy myself something for my 24th removal day (I was a cesarean and me and my mom have an odd sense of humor) so keep the commissions coming. Love you all and have a lovely day.
(Monster boyfriend/neutral human with visual impairment1-7-19)
They warn you to be prepared for a shock the first time you come over.
You get lost trying to find their place and have to call them for directions.
After going over a tiny bridge and turning a few more times, on dirt and pebble roads, you find it.
He is standing on the front porch, back two legs tapping nervously.
They invite you in and offer you tea or coffee, but you are distracted by webs covering the walls and vaulted ceiling. A hammock of web taking center stage, floating three feet off the ground.
"I don't really weave much but I've never stopped liking the feeling of sleeping suspended."
You sip your drink of choice and cuddle in the hammock as you watch something dorky and nondescript.
They curl their legs underneath them and lean their upper body on you, kissing your neck and shoulder ever so often.
You fall asleep like this and wake at 4am. They fret asking how your neck is. They had a daybed if that was more to your liking, insisting you use it.
"No I'm fine I promise, this is actually quite nice."
It's raining heavily outside and you slept wonderfully, so you're in a good mood.
They sigh in relief and you hop down to go to the bathroom. You come back to the smell of an early breakfast and the sound of local weather informing you that traveling home today would be near-impossible.
He apologizes profusely for your being "stuck" with him, and offers to see if the bridge is out.
"I don't mind staying, I would hate to try and drive in this deluge. But if you would rather I leave, I'll understand, I don't want to impose, I-"
"No no no, I'd love it if you stayed, I, I like you a lot... obviously, so if you want to..."
You stay and the day becomes an exercise in playing house. You sing in the kitchen while you make lunch, he sings along as he folds laundry. It turns into a very domestic fifth date.
Just before one p.m. , the rain stops, doesn't slow, doesn't drizzle. Just. Stops.
You miss the sound of the rain but you fill the silence with laughter and half-assed jokes.
You laugh so hard your face hurts, when he does an impression of Aragog from Harry Potter.
You're trying to cuddle on the couch but you keep getting interrupted by his spindly fingers tickling your sides while he hums the itsy bitsy spider.
"It's not fair, so not fair to tickle when trying to make a joke, you're so cheating." "Who said this was a contest-" "CHEATING!!?!+!" You squeak out as you try to escape his hands, but he holds you close and laughs.
He looks so handsome when he smiles. His eyes crinkle, all eight of them. He finally opens them all while you are around. Previously he only used two in an effort to be "normal".
"Normal my left foot. For you eight is the magic number, for me it is one. No big deal.
Apparently he didn't realize you were blind in one eye so his face was puzzled at first, then his expression cleared as he realized, and he went beet red, apparently embarrassed.
You start making vision puns and he can't look at you.
He finally laughs when you say "No worries love, hindsight is twenty twenty... twenty twenty twenty twenty twenty twenty."
"That's so terrible" he chokes out, trying to suppress giggles.
By seven the bridge is passable and the roads, though muddy, could be used with care.
"Well I suppose it's time for me to go, I do have work tonight. I wish I could stay."
"Well you could come back, I'll let you have the hammock this time and tomorrow, weather permitting, I can finally show you the property like I planned, maybe we could have a picnic?"
You smile so big, your face feels like a stretched rubber band.
"Or" he says "I could meet you at your place tomorrow, if that works with you?"
You tackle hug him, he had it coming.
"On one condition"
"Anything you desire, oh dear one"
He smiles, you can feel it, his face being nestled in your neck. So you whisper your request in his ear.
"W-would you make me one?"
"What?"
"A hammock"
He looks a bit dumbfounded and a smidge excited.
"Unless that's too much work, I mean I already imposed so much today and I don't want you thinking I'm demanding-"
He does that annoying thing you say you hate. He interrupts you by kissing you. He winds a hand in your hair and pulls you even closer to him. When he puts back he is smiling.
"Of course I can, it might take a little while but I'd love to. You like sleeping in it that much?"
"Well...that and I want you to stay over now that we've gotten past this milestone."
"I'm sure I'd be just as comfortable in your be-"
"And I may want to try other things in the hammock" you blurt out before kissing his cheek and waving goodbye as you rush to your car.
He was left smirking with arms crossed as you started back toward the little bridge.
'I'll make it plenty roomy...and stable" he thought as the sound of your engine faded away.
Dr. Elder (plague doctor variety 1) x Beatrix Galen (first person) Platonic
This is strictly friendly fluff and supernatural exposition(that could lead to romance in the future if i revisit these characters). Based on what was supposed to be a drabble for @fuckyouamanda turned into me being sleep deprived and getting a bit carried away with lore.
`~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
We’d been driving for miles, trying to find this little cottage I was supposed to be staying at, a detour for raspberry tarts had gotten us lost. As the sun began to sink further into the night, the needle on our fuel gauge sank into the red. My driver for the trip, Damen, found a small station and hopped out to raise some help. I remember waving to Damen as he turned and mouthed that someone was coming to the door. I got out of the car and start walking off to the side of the station, to make a call and make sure my reservation hadn’t been forfeited. I couldn’t get signal and I moved further away, waving my phone around like a mad woman. Then I heard Damen yell and I turned to see his face was full of horror, his arms were waving. Everything got very slow as I felt the air leave my body. I didn’t feel the pain until I hit the ground, I heard a crack, and everything went dark.
My eyes hurt when I try to open them, maybe I don’t want to open them, really. I’m so…tired. So, I drift back off and I dream, of a - person, no - are they even human? The figure is tall and slender with broad shoulders and flowing robes, they look like some illustrations that I saw in a museum in…I can’t remember where. But I remember this shape, the beaked mask with glass eyes. Am I dying? Is my brain throwing images at me of what I’ve seen? No, I only see them, the figure and their assistant.
These odd visions persist, these waking dreams. Sometimes all I see is a ceiling covered in lovely swirling designs, but there is a voice. This voice has a deepness that is comforting but it lilts and flows as it reads me prose. I know this must be a dream as everything I hear is something I remember. There is Shakespeare, Austen, and even some excerpts from stand-up routines I love. Hearing “There’s a horse loose in the hospital” in the confused tones of the voice in my head makes it, oddly, more hilarious. It was also comforting. To think that I am fighting, on whatever subconscious level, is reassuring. If I ever properly wake up, I hope I remember this.
~~~~~~~
When I wake again I am sore, but my eyes are more cooperative. The room is dim, but I am thankful for that. All around me, the walls are a mild mint green, as if they’ve faded from years of wear, the curtains are drawn, patterned in vines and sprigs of leaves. I feel as if I lay on a cloud, and as much as I want to know where I am, I feel no need to leave this place. I finally become aware of the I.V. hooked up on my left, at least they picked the easy arm. Well, I assume they picked the easy arm, its hard to tell if they had any false starts as my arms are fairly covered in bruises. The bag is covered by a casing, so I can’t see if they have me on saline or something else. My arms are swollen so saline is a good bet, but that could be the bruising too. I try to wiggle my finger and find something in my left hand. A small red button on a corded white toggle. I don’t try to see where the cord leads because craning my neck is still too laborious. I use every bit of strength to push the button and I hear a delicate bell chime coming from the other side of the door.
I don’t really know where I am but I’m more concerned about how I am. I’ve never been in a car crash before, but I feel like I’ve been dehydrated, crushed up, and reconstituted. A nurse knocks and enters my room and she looks like some colorized version of those portraits my gran used to show me. All but her cap, as it bears a small black bird.
“Ah finally awake, I see”
I try to speak, I want to but my throat feels dry and scratchy, and so I cough and stutter. The nurse comes over and offers me some ice chips and I nod, feebly.
“The doc will be in momentarily. He’ll explain everything.”
As the door opens once more and the nurse exits, the figure takes her place. The mask is closer to a dark brown than the black in my visions. But it could be lighting. Damn these drugs must be phenomenal.
“Ms. Galen, pleasure to see you properly awake. I’m Dr. Elder and I’m sure you have a lot of questions about-“
I smiled, I smiled like a damn goof. It was the voice, the one that was so baffled as to the meaning of a teenage boy yelling scatter and smashing a “forty, what is a blasted forty?” on the ground.
“You were reading to me, weren’t you? How did you know what I liked? How did you get into my dream?”
I know I must sound delirious, but the doctor doesn’t seem to notice as they shuffle their feet a bit and sit down in the chair by my bed. I feel a hand on my wrist, checking my pulse. There is a faint light behind the eyes of the mask, like a dying glowstick in the dawn of the day after a rave. Blue, lovely blue. Like the old icebox Gran had when I was little, before she was sent away. She made this pie that tasted like blue skies and honeysuckle. I miss Gran.
“Ms. Galen? Can you hear me?”
I realize I’ve been drifting in and out, too many memories to ignore all of them, so I let a few nice ones sneak through.
“Yes, loud and clear, sorry, Doc. My ears still work, at least. What happened to me?”
The nose of the mask bobs down then back up, the glass portholes seeming to stare into me. I don’t really mind them.
“Well, Ms. Galen-“
“Oh please call me Bea, or Beatrix.”
The nose bobbed again, the mask nodding.
“Ms. Beatrix, you were in a rather nasty accident involving some improperly parked farm equipment, I’m afraid that you- you-”
I peer at the mask, questioning.
“I what, Doc? Is it my legs my spine, my arms?”
In an odd sort of calculated panic, I start to wiggle everything, and though it is all sore, everything all seems to work. I reach for the cup of ice chips next to me and the doctor seems shocked. Obviously, there are no eyebrows to clue me in, but the shoulders, broad a they are, rise ever higher. The beak bobs side to side, ever so slightly, as if shaking in disbelief.
“Listen, Doc, let me level with you, I feel sore but otherwise functional. I’d really like the rundown on what I’m in for- Oh, and Damen, is he ok? Is he here too?”
“No, Ms. Gal- Beatrix. He was well away from the car when the accident occurred, he was unharmed. Your recovery will be extended, however you should regain most of the function in your extremities, your right leg was not broken but it hasn’t responded to stimuli as actively as your left. I’m afraid, it isn’t possible to transfer you to another facility as there was a terrible storm not long after you were brought in, and we aren’t currently able to reach anyone.”
I nod as I take it in, he’s ignored my dream-based inquiries, so I guess I really did dream them. I must have heard his voice while I was out, and my brain did the rest. It was a bit scary, not having a way to let anyone know. But I realized, only my school would really need to know.
“What kind of facility is this? And what exactly am I on for pain?”
The mask bobs again, my imagination is much more vivid than I ever realized. The doctor rises to his full height.
“This is a small clinic. Our purpose is to help our patients get to a place where they can move on. We typically only house about three to five patients at a time and usually we only deal with minor maladies. Currently we just have you with us.” He paused for a breath and poured me a glass of cold water to go beside my ice chips.
“As for the pain, if you are having any just ring Lottie again and she will help you.” The good doc picks up my chart and hums. “We have you on dilaudid, but your last dose should’ve worn off by now. If that is all, Beatrix, I’ll be getting on to some of my other duties that need tending. I will be back to see you though, I promise, you are our priority.”
I nod, numbly, feeling there is something I’m missing. As the door swings shut I realize that I can, in fact, feel an excruciating pain in my right shoulder and hip, and I just know a headache is coming on. I ring for Lottie and ask for an icepack and something to eat, as I feel starved.
There are worse places to recover, I suppose, than a comfortable room with a lovely view of- were those gardens? I wonder to myself, if the food is good. Back home when I was hospitalized the cafeteria had the best roast beef. Gran loved it, she joked that she visited me just to sneak food off my plate.
But this was a clinic, I didn’t expect a large cafeteria or anything like what I’d known. As if by some universal alignment, a heaping plate of roast beef with gravy, mash, and veg, arrived for supper. I dig in and it tastes like back home. I use a cloth napkin, embroidered with another black bird, to dab at my mouth. That is when I realize it, and my fork clatters onto the plate.
The mask is real. The glowing eyes. Real.
Somehow this doesn’t faze me as much as I think it should, but I’ve seen stranger things. I dig back into my roast beef and wonder what tomorrow will bring.
~~~~~~~
The next couple of days blended into this calming routine. It turns out that I did, in fact, need a wheelchair for a bit, as my good leg got tired after short bursts of activity. But the physio seemed to help, even as old fashioned as the physical therapist was. A slim man with a handlebar mustache, that served in the army at one point; he went by Butch and always seemed to be smiling.
I got to know Lottie too, and found there were even more of these clinics, dotted about the whole of Europe. No one ever explained why Dr.Elder wore the mask but I never asked either.
True to his word, I did see the good doctor again. Quite frequently. It started with morning check in, then there were impromptu visits, a few walks/ rolls, around the grounds, when it wasn’t pouring. As there were no other patients, and communications were still down from the storm, I found Elder to be great company. I hadn’t mentioned the dreams again, but volumes of my favorite stories appeared on my night table, and some nights when I was too tired to read, but too sore to sleep, Elder read to me. He admitted to reading to me, before I’d woken up, saying it seemed to soothe patients. We would talk about which stories we liked best, what we had grown up with. He had an upbringing rife with old classics, but once brought in a book of poetry. The verses were completely new to me, and I loved them. Lottie later told me they were his, he’d written them about patients over the years, the good and the bad. Being a doctor takes a toll on your soul and he relieved his burden through his writing.
I began spending the bulk of my time with him and we fell into a comfortable sort of friendship, something I had failed at achieving with even my closest classmates in nursing school. I felt better, every day and I wondered if my accident had really been as bad as all that.
The storm that had knocked out the phone lines was still coming in waves, and the fourth day of dreary weather in a row, I decided it was time to offer up some alternate entertainment. I went looking through my effects and found my laptop and my external hard drive full of movies and music. I switched it on and wondered why it hadn’t occurred to me to do this earlier. When Elder came up for a check in, I was watching John Mulaney, as I couldn’t stop thinking about the excerpts from my dreams. He sat down with me, and before we knew it we had blown through a good chuck of my stand-up.
He tried to laugh along in the right places, even though a lot of it seemed to go over his head, but at the end he did seem to be thoroughly happy. We were just about to start on some animated movies when Lottie started banging down my door calling for us “chortling heathens” to come take supper in the dining room.
I also got along with Lottie and Butch through all of this, but they seemed more focused on each other and that was just fine with me. I liked my time with the Doc, and he seemed to like it too. Even spending as much time as we did together, I avoided mentioning his interesting choice of mask. I mocked up a few jokes about taking safety a bit too seriously but decided against them.
The longer I spent at the clinic the more I came to realize that there was most certainly something distinctly “other” about it, but there was something in me that didn’t need that to be acknowledged. I was still on vacation time and I was sending my brain on vacation too.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
After a time I was able to leave the wheelchair in my room and graduate to a cane, it was a cause for celebration. I was warned that I may need to use one intermittently in the long term, to help the healing along, and because I was showing signs of post traumatic arthritis in my right hip. I decided that once I was able, I would cover my cane with tacky stickers and sparkly duct tape. There are many canes like it but this one is mine, god-dammit.
Elder complimented my cane when we went on my first stroll in the gardens. He said I seemed to be glowing. As we walked parts of the grounds that I didn’t dare roll through, Elder told me that the clinic and its grounds had been a dairy farm long ago. its small size suited their purposes just fine. They had planted all a manner of flowers and fruit trees to yield beauty and fresh produce in the right seasons. We came across a raspberry bush and I remembered my tarts.
“Are the phones working, yet, could I make a call?”
“I can check, but they are supposed to be up and running today, these ancient lines go down so frequently.”
I stopped and picked a few raspberries, just ripe, so perfect I could do without the pastry. I offered some to Elder, and he declined. It was time.
“Doc, why do you wear it?”
Elders shoulders hunched, and I could feel something change. A mild tension that had permeated the air between us, dissipated.
“Well I never saw the sense in it, but now it seems I can never take it off.”
I let go of a breath, relieved I weren’t hallucinating, but now very aware that something was most assuredly different about this place, and my new-found friend.
“Have you tried, do you need help?”
Elder shook his head and took my hand. He led me to bench along the path and we took a rest.
“I can’t remember when I last tried, or when someone else last remarked on it. To our regular patients I look however they need me to. Whatever face will put them at ease. I’ve worn so many, I can’t remember my own.”
I patted his back with my left hand, minding the catheter still in my arm. I’d been on I.V just before our walk, a small transfusion of fluids was ordered, as I had been feeling very dehydrated and a bit dizzy.
“Lottie does her best, as well. You surprised her a bit, as young as you are. The memories help her a lot, so she’s grateful you seemed to have some pleasant ones to draw on. This isn’t a clinic for normal patients, I take it you’ve realized that by now.”
He sat silent for a moment and I motioned to speak.
“My Gran was a nurse long before I was born. Helping people was her calling and she worked from the day she got a job at the hospital to the day I was born. She would have worked until they stopped her, but she had earned her pension, so she retired to enjoy her family. When I happened, my father was pushing forty, and she was almost sixty. I was the apple of her eye when he adopted me.” I started to cry but I didn’t waver for more than a second.
I told Elder about dad dying when I was ten, a fluke heart attack. Gran being sent away when I was eleven, my aunt taking over. Gran dying, within a year, alone, in some home, from some treatable illness. Running away and getting caught, being put into a group home when they saw what my aunt had considered a suitable accommodation for a twelve year old. But I muddled through, and I graduated. I went to nursing school, for Gran. I had finished my first semester and entered a stupid raffle at the summer fair. I won, courtesy of our local travel agency, an all-expenses paid trip to *drumroll* England. I was studying in Ireland at the time, so really it was just a hop skip and a jump away, but I took it. And now here I was.
When I finished, he nodded and helped me stand.
“Beatrix, I wanted to tell you the truth about this place. Our patients are, not quite here nor there. Some of them are with us for only a night but some have stayed for the equivalent of years. When they are ready to move on they do, whether that means going back to their house… or going ‘home’. Every once in while someone with a physical form finds their way here and we care for them as we would anyone else. But only once in a blue moon can someone see the mask. That is how Lottie came to be here, Butch has his own story. But that’s why these little clinics began popping up all over. More and more of us came to be, and we wanted to help as best we could. There are more and more people not ready to leave this world, so we help encourage them along.’
It all made an odd kind of sense, and it is vastly more comforting to think that one has stumbled onto something benevolent, and otherworldly. You know, as opposed to being trapped by a strange sadist wearing a bird mask.
“So this means, I’m dead.”
“Not quite. You aren’t…yet. You were supposed to proceed along as usual but you were so-“
“If you say full of life I’m liable to punch you in the arm.”
He flinched away with a laugh and held up his hands in defense.
“Well you are, for lack of a better word. Your body wasn’t supposed to last much longer, it has been put through so much. But you just aren’t ready to be parted from it. Or this world. So we kept you alive, the only way we could and we planned to tell you when the time was right. I could tell you saw the mask the moment you saw me enter your room. I just wanted to give you some time before you had to decide”
“How are you keeping me alive? Do I have to decide to die or-”
A small chuckle, not sinister, just a bit of an “oh boy, you wouldn’t believe” sort of noise.
“There is an energy that we use to stay here in between planes, it was given to me when I was dying to prolong my usefulness during a time of great need. But I never wanted to stop helping, and I adapted. It is ambient within this world and easy to find if you know where to look. It comes from love, from happiness, from the basic components of life itself. That is what has been in your I.V, what causes my subdued glow, and your budding glow as well.”
“So my decision, as it stands, is between allowing myself to die and possibly pass on, or staying here, helping other souls cross over, like glow worm Charon in scrubs?”
I thought for a bit, as we continued to walk. But I stopped Elder when we reached the tree bearing his name.
“So if I stay, Does this mean I have to wear the bird mask?’
This time it was a full blown laugh, I’d even go so far as to say, a chortle.
“Not unless you want to. When I passed into this state, this is how people who were purported to be healers often dressed. So I chose it, thinking anyone who saw this form would feel comforted by it. Times have changed of course, and I can make others see whatever they like, but I’ve gone so long without really changing that I don’t know what may lay beneath, if anything does. For all intents and purposes, this is my face now. Elder was not my name in life, I didn’t remember who I was. But I knew I wanted to help. You would look however you liked, most likely how you look right now, but maybe with less bruising. And you don’t have to wear scrubs or dresses or anything-‘
He stuttered and corrected himself.
“Well, I mean, you can wear anything you like. You don’t even have to help, I’d just… I’d like it if you stayed” The eyes went down, and the beak was perpendicular to he ground.
‘Lottie is lovely and kind and she has been here for decades now, and we get along just fine. But I can’t read Shakespeare with her, and she isn’t much for comedy. Though I don’t always understand yours, I like it, and I’d like it if you’d teach me more about it, and even about the world. Lottie can blend in with the crowd, but I never venture out if I don’t have to, I feel awkward and out of time.
“Butch is a sweet man but he keeps to himself, goes to the cinema with Lottie, he likes going through the motions of being an out and about human. That’s fine and dandy for him, and I hope he enjoys every moment of it”
He took both my hands in his and we looked into each other’s eyes as best we could. In that moment I swore I could see proper blue eyes peeking back at me.
“But you, Beatrix, you make me feel like I’m not alone. You are the first proper friend I’ve had since I still had my own face. I don’t want to force you to stay, I know you have others to see in whatever comes next, but I don’t want to lose my friend. That’s why I wanted to prolong your stay here. I feel guilty for not having told you sooner but-“
I put two fingers, close as I could get, to where Elders mouth would have been.
“Oh hush, you old crow. Of course, I’m staying. Gran would never let me hear the end of it if I didn’t do what she raised me to. And even without Grans watchful eyes over my shoulder… I would never leave a friend behind.”
I was promptly lifted and hugged so impossibly tight, and yet, as I hugged him back I didn’t feel a single twinge of pain. When he reluctantly set me down the bruises were gone. His glow was a bit brighter, and I felt brand new.
“Well, now I suppose we must tell Lottie”
A loud happy chortle floated down from the clinics back door.
“I already know, you two lollygaggers. Now, come on. Doc, nurse trainee, we have two new patients who need processing, and someone has to help me.”
I'm broke af, and I will write your dreams if you pay me.
Bills have come due and damn if my electric company hasn't fucked me again.
So please, if there is a request you have, a drabble, or an imagine, or a full damn fic, by all means, drop me a message and we can talk details, I would love to do some work for y'all.
