#oc:bramble

[local-littleguy]

first meeting

wanted to try and imitate the mlp show style so!! here’s me and my friend @sentientcomputerposting’s mlp sonas :3c

[quackshley]

Some doodles from work :)

Still gotta do some digital art of bramble I love him so much......

[jaysworlds]

Whumptober 2021 Day Thirty

Bramble has been sitting alone for a long time. Grace has been trying to be good about not disturbing him, but she’s getting worried. He’s been there for hours, and she’s sure he’s missed meals.

Not that either of them really need to eat, but he likes to cook at appropriate times, and he likes for them to sit down together to eat. It’s a ritual for him, she thinks, and it’s always felt … important.

If she could she would cook for him, but even if she weren’t blind she wouldn’t know where to start.

She goes to sit by him eventually. She can see him, if nothing else.

“Bramble?” she asks, reaching out and touching his shoulder.

He sighs and glances across at her, before looking back out, staring into the distance.

She wonders if he’s looking at something unknown to her.

It’s strange, the concept of anything being unknown. She still isn’t used to it.

“Bramble,” she says, again. Quieter this time.

“It’s alright,” he says, turning to face her. He reaches out and touches her cheek, and she feels it against her skin.

“Are you?”

“I’m tired.”

She sighs, curls up against his side and rests her head on his shoulder. He hasn’t asked her to go inside, so she supposes he doesn’t mind. “I’m sorry.”

“It isn’t your fault.”

She isn’t sure about that. Immortality gets tiring, she knows that better than anyone. Having too much time is difficult for anyone, but worse for someone who’s time was supposed to have been ordained from the beginning. And it was her fault this happened. She’d only wanted a little more time with him.

Ironic, that.

“Gracie,” he says, gentle. As though he knows what she’s thinking.

Which he probably does. They’ve been together so long.

“What are you thinking about?” she asks, instead.

“I’m just … watching,” he says.

She sits up a little, looks over at him. He’s all she can see, and she’ll never get sick of looking at him. “Tell me about it.”

He laughs, humourlessly. “So many ghosts around here.”

Grace stays quiet, waits to see if he’ll elaborate. He doesn’t like talking about the ghosts, xe knows that, but maybe today will be different.

Apparently so, because he lifts a finger, points. As though xe can actually see what he’s talking about. “There’s a woman, there. Young, I think. She’s got blood all down her chest. Trying to pick up a bucket of water as though she doesn’t even know she’s dead.”

Once upon a time xe could have told him all about the ghosts, told him their names and how much time they’d had and how they’d died, but xe can’t do that anymore. Xyr mind is too fuzzy, too human, and even the golden threads xe weaves between xyr fingers seem dull.

“A man, there,” Bramble continues, pointing in a different direction, “with an arrow through his eye. He’s just…” he huffs a faint laugh. “Staring.”

Grace looks in the directions he points, though ey can’t see anything, of course. Even if ey could see the ghosts a thousand lifetimes blur together, a thousand timelines one on top of the other. Nothing but a blur to eir eyes.

Once upon a time the world was eirs to command, timelines twisting and snapping at eir whims. Once upon a time ey had all the power ey could ever want.

Ey miss that time. Not the power, not really, but ey miss the freedom.

“Grace,” Bramble says, and ey realise he was speaking, and ey missed it.

“I’m sorry,” ey tell him, turning to bury eir face in his neck.

Ey love him, and ey wouldn’t trade being with him for all the power and freedom in the world. It’s just … hard, sometimes.

“I know,” he says. “Believe me, love. I know.”

Ey don’t know what he means by that, but ey don’t really care, either.

He’s still staring out at the village Grace cannot see.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t listening,” zie tells him. “Don’t stop?”

He shakes his head. “What is there to say?”

“Tell me about them.”

He sighs. “They’re all just … people who didn’t have enough time.”

Grace doesn’t know what to say to that, so he doesn’t say anything at all. He can’t help his nature.

“Are they ghosts, do you think?” Bramble asks. “My friends, I mean. My family, I guess. The triplets. Jen, even.”

“Do you wish they were?”

“I don’t know. I wouldn’t wish that on them, but … I’d like to see them again.”

Grace hums, shrugs. Ve has no answer for him, never really understood why some people become ghosts and some are just … gone for good. Once people are out of time they’re no longer vis responsibility. If they ever were.

“I miss them,” Bramble says. Ve knows that, knows that its nothing to do with ver, but ve still feels an ache in vis chest when he talks like that. Is ve not good enough for him?

“I know,” ve says, and tucks ver legs up to ver chest. “I know.”

Bramble sighs, reaching out to take ver hand. “I think we should go inside.”

Grace nods, lets him pull them to their feet. They would like to listen to him cook, would like to sit down and eat, even if it does nothing for them. “Can we eat?”

He smiles, soft. “You’d like that?”

They nod. “Please.”

“Of course,” he says, and brings their fingers to his lips, kissing their hand. “I love you, Gracie.”

Grace smiles. “I love you too.”