iii. there’s a boy in his class /new class, new school, his dad’s job keeps them moving/. he doesn’t stand out or draw attention, doesn’t behave any different from yet another moody teenager /then again he’s probably the only one thinking of himself as yet another moody teenager, nobody actually thinks that of themselves, or so he heard/, and yet - and yet.
he cannot explain it, cannot understand why his eyes jump to track this boy’s movement every time he crosses a hallway or sits across from him in class, worrying at the hem of his shirt. he doesn’t think anyone notices or pays any mind to either of them, two regular odd new kids that don’t know anyone around here, including each other.
he thinks they could be friends, possibly, probably would have things in common /would not have been drawn to him otherwise what would be the reason if not the obvious similarities in their shitty nomadic childhoods/, but he’s not sure how long they’re staying this time, so he doesn’t talk much and keeps to himself.
it’s only when he finds himself outside again and freezing again in his worn out pyjamas at three in the morning, hiding behind the tool shed to avoid his father’s wrath, feels someone’s eyes on him and turns to find the boy from his class looking at him through the open window across the street, he realizes that they might have been friends all this time.
next thing he knows there’s a soft fleece blanket on his shoulders and a mug seeping warmth into his numb fingers, and the boy from his class closes his window with a wave.
he waves back.
the mug stays warm in his hands until he sneaks into his room and back into bed.
ii. he always has a joke at the ready. something over the top, not an explanation, but rather a misdirection, sleight of hand. jokes are not meant to be taken seriously. that’s why they work.
he always wishes he didn’t have to use them, but he always does. cannot help it. this. this thing inside of him, this thing that is him has a mind of its own, a mindles, all-consuming desire to be, so it pokes and prods and bursts out at every inopportune moment, like. like it’s doing it on purpose.
he slams it down, more often than not. twists the hem of his shirt in his fist until it stops pushing. but there’s always a joke at the ready. makes them see what he wants them to see. a clever trick, a ‘you’ll never guess my secret’. not a ‘miracles exist and I don’t know how to stop them’.
I'm drawing empty mirrors in my head, hanging on the walls, facing the room and each other, reflecting nothing, not even a bit of window or a sun ray dancing across. their milky surface is devoid of colour and movement, but if you look long enough you might feel like they're breathing, slow, steady, barely there. or it might just be a trick of light.
.
these are the mirrors that chose not to reflect anything at all until they see a subject worth reflecting. each mirror's sense of worth is different, so you never know for sure. many have walked through the empty mirror halls with zero results. few chosen ones became kings or poets or murderers or something else entirely, but famous in some way. some seek that fame, others swear they'd never set a foot in the empty mirror halls, claiming they are happy to live their lives just the way they are.
.
when an empty mirror reflects someone, the lucky chosen one takes it off the wall and carries it home: the law says that this mirror now belongs to them. the empty mirrors are rare, but the country is famous for its mirror factories, so there's always plenty new ones in the halls, no matter how many are taken. first the halls used to be a small room in the back of a mirror shop, but now they occupy a former library in the country's capital. the halls are a rather popular sight with the tourists, though not many of them choose to enter.
.
one day, a young girl from a distant village comes into the city. she's walked almost all the way, she's tired and lost, so she decides to ask for a city map at the library. she opens the door to find the halls absolutely empty, not a single book or a librarian around. all she sees are rows upon rows of mirrors on the walls, reflecting her and the room and each other. she fixes her hair and leaves the strange building. with the help of a kind old lady she finally finds the address she's been looking for and leaves the city the same day. upon her return to the village she continues living her life exactly as it has been before.
.
when she leaves, all the mirrors turn empty again. the people of the city never find out that it has happened at all.
4) favorite character you’ve written: in fanfic it’s definitely Gabriel. be it shippy or not shippy, I just get him, you know? as for original stuff I got several things started, one short story finished and so far my favourite OC is this rather peculiar guardian angel creature who gets drunk on ambrosia and decides to talk to their human charge even though it’s against the rules. the snippet in the next question is from this story.
25) copy/paste a few sentences or a short paragraph that you’re particularly proud of
(okay this is the best question bc I wanna share snippets from things so this is me encouraging you guys to ask this question again if you feel like it)
The heap shiftedfrom sitting on the bench to standing in front of Jonathan in one flowing,languid motion. It stood there, swaying gently in the breeze as if it didn’tweigh anything. Then Jonathan saw the face. It was pale and thin, with eyesthat seemed to take a lot more space than the rest of the features. They weredark brown and looked… old. Very old and very sad.
“But I am,” saidthe man. Or was it a woman? Jonathan still couldn’t tell. “I am an angel, and Iwish I had a better explanation for you, but this is all I have.”
With that, thething that Jonathan mistook for a plastic raincoat began to move on its own. Itbillowed, catching the wind, and began to unfold. It was like watching a houseof cards falling in, but in reverse. It unfolded again and again, layer afterlayer, taking most of the rags with it. They weren’t rags, either, but the sameplastic-like material bunched up and now let loose behind this strangecreature’s back. It shimmered, too, under the sodium light of the street lamp,all colours of the rainbow rolling over it in waves as it took form.
Wings.
The creature hadgiant dragonfly wings. Transparent and tinted gold, or so it seemed in theorange light, with every other colour, though somewhat dimmed, flickeringthrough them at a slightest shift of air.
this summer is the summer of winds. I listen to them howl every day. what sound do winds make? they don’t. they are silent. the winds make other things sound. touch them as they pass by.
every day, the winds grow stronger. sometimes they pause, but never longer than for a few hours.
I wonder what happens next. will the winds grow stronger still? will they be able to lift heavy things like people and cars and houses? I can picture it, in my head. the winds grow strongest the day after halloween. they pick us up like autumn leaves and carry us away, into silence and darkness.
i've recently started reading original fiction again as well as fic so i'd love a little original drabble about 2 queer girls who meet in an old library. all details up to you, also happy blog-aversary, stay fluffy and stay queer!!
whoa look it took me so long to finish this tiny thing that it’s already your birthday ayyy!!! (I’m in russia so I’m a bit in the future and here it’s your birthday already) I guess that’s the main reason why this story decided to race past the 100-word drabble limit - it wanted to be your birthday present!!! so, here have a 1k of dorky girls being all cute and ridiculous in a library and HAPPY BIRTHDAY ROSE!!!
(pssst everyone go follow @casandsip she is amazing and if you’re not following her already you’re missing out)
“Ow.”
“Shhh!”
“Sorry!”
Lina smilessheepishly and backs away from the librarian’s table. There goes your good first impression, she thinks. Why do you always ruin everything, youclumsy cow-
The floorsomehow slips away from under her feet, and she is flat on her back. Shefreezes, hoping that the librarian didn’t see it, wondering how she alwaysseems to find a way to make a shitty situation even worse, and then the booksbegin to fall.
She comesto, dizzy and disoriented, not entirely sure where she is or why it’s so dark,and then there’s a worried voice, and she feels something heavy lifted off her,and suddenly it’s not so dark any longer.
“Oh mygod,” the voice says, “oh my god, are you okay? Please be okay, oh god, please,say something!”
Her tongueis heavy and refuses to move, and she hears herself stumbling through thewords. It gets her a startled laugh and a relieved, shaky sob.
“I know,”the voice tells her, “I work here.”
Lina can seethe owner of the voice now, although her eyes still can’t quite focus. There’sa blur where the face should be, and all she sees is a mess of curly hair,backlit by the chandelier above them, making it look like a halo.
“An angel,”Lina whispers. “Are you an angel of the library?”
She lifts ahand and her fingertips touch the angel’s skin. It’s soft and warm and veryhuman. She blinks, and the haze in her head dissipates as the world around herslowly comes into focus.
She’slooking at the cute librarian.
She’s alsosomehow, inexplicably, holding a hand to the cute librarian’s cheek. The cheekin question is very warm and bright red in colour.
Lina dropsher hand to her own face and groans. “I’m sorry. I think something hit me onthe head.”
Fingersclose around her wrist, gentle but firm, and pull her hand away from her face.“We have to make sure you don’t have a concussion. How many fingers am Iholding up?”
“Um… none?”
“Yeah… sorry.How about now?”
“Four.”
“What dayis it?”
“Tuesday.”
“Who’s thepresident of the United States?”
“Ugh, don’tremind me.”
“Fairenough. What’s your name?”
“Lina. LinaMorrison.”
“Nice tomeet you, Lina, I’m Kate.”
Thelibrarian – Kate – is smiling at her, triumphant, and Lina narrows her eyes.
“Oh, you’regood,” she says, and Kate’s smile grows wider. “Was I that obvious?”
Kate nods.“You were adorable. But, you know, you didn’t have to put yourself through anear-death experience just to talk to me.”
“Did youjust call me adorable?”
“Considerit a retaliation for you calling me an angel earlier.”
“Fairenough.”
Kate offersLina a hand. “Let’s get you off this floor, shall we? Just try not to get uptoo quickly.”
Lina wantsto tell her that she’s fine, but her head swims, and Kate’s arm around hershoulders is the only thing that keeps her from falling again. Or, maybe, she thinks, it’s the other way round.
“I wasserious about the concussion, by the way,” Kate tells Lina as she helps hersettle on the couch in the staff room. “You were out for several seconds atleast, so it’s still a possibility. How’s your head?”
Lina slowlyturns her head from side to side. “I… think it’s mostly okay? Doesn’t evenhurt, except when I touch it.”
“Okay.Good. Stay here, and don’t fall asleep. I’ll go get you some ice.”
Kate is outof the door before Lina can open her mouth to speak. She moves like a tinywhirlwind, and Lina wonders, briefly, how it’s even possible for her to sitabsolutely still behind her desk for more than a minute. Kate makes her headspin the more she looks at her. In a good way, though. Not in a concussion way.
Kate runsback in, door swinging shut behind her. Lina expects a loud bang, but Katecatches the door with her foot, and it’s completely silent when it closes. Katelooks at her, a worried frown morphing into a smile that could light upgalaxies the second she sees Lina awake and smiling.
“Here,”Kate says, holding out a large paper cup half-filled with ice. “They didn’thave any ice packs, so I had to go for the iced soda, minus the soda.”
Lina takes thecup, presses it to the bump on her head. “Did you run to the corner store justto get me some ice?” She asks, incredulous. “I mean, thank you, of course, butyou didn’t have to do it.”
“Umm,” Katesays, and her cheeks turn red again, “actually, it’s kinda my fault that youfell. I mean, I startled you, and god knows I didn’t mean to – far from it, Isaw you yesterday and last week and I thought you were really cute and I hopedyou’d find an excuse to come talk to me, but there was this guy pestering mefor three days in a row so I just assumed it was him and used my strictlibrarian tone to get him to leave me alone but instead it was you and I’m so,so sorry!”
Kate’s wordscome out in a rushed, jumbled mess and she’s pacing the room as she speaks, andLina cannot help a smile and what feels like a ridiculous amount of butterfliesin her stomach.
“AndthebooksfellonyoubecauseIforgottoputthemaway,”Kate blurts on the last of her breath and stops abruptly, staring at Lina withincredibly sad and remorseful eyes.
“Well,”Lina says, somehow sounding absolutely calm and confident, like she usuallydoes in her head only, “guess you have no choice but to make it up to me, then.How about dinner tonight?”
Kate’s eyeslight up. “Well, someone’s gotta watch you for the signs of concussion, and itjust so happens that I did amazingly well at my emergency training. So, y’know,I can be a pretty useful dinner companion.”
“It’s adate,” Lina says.
“Yess!”Kate practically shrieks, and Lina is sure the entire library heard that.
“Shhh,”Lina says, reproachful. “We’re in a library!”
