#ALL THESE WEEKS OF ME SHOUTING 'WHERE'S SCORPIO SKY?????'

[likesummerrainn]

ROH Final Battle | 12.15.23

#ROH #roh final battle 2023 #Scorpio Sky #Ethan Page #Men of the Year #my gifs #marie #CAN YOU BELIEVE!!!!!!! #ALL THESE WEEKS OF ME SHOUTING 'WHERE'S SCORPIO SKY?????' #AND HE'S FINALLY BACK AND HE'S WITH ETHAN GOSH #as marie would say: #love is stored in the tag teams

[trulymadlysydney]

Scorpio Season: One

Harry is the ghost that haunts the sorority house, Misty is the only one who can see him, and Scorpio season is far too short.

tw: Death

***Do Not Repost Without Permission***

It had started with a simple knock on her bedroom door.

Misty Garland was sitting and reading on her bed the first time she’d heard it.  It was a windy fall day, the slightest bit of sun poking through the clouds every so often.  Her sorority sisters had thought it was the perfect weather to go day-drink over at the Kappa house.  Misty thought she would rather die.

Her knee-jerk reaction had been to call out a soft “Come in!” to the knocking visitor.  But it wasn’t until after the words left her lips that it hit her-- she was home alone.

It wasn’t something that could be passed off as the creaking of the walls of the old house, or the knocking of a branch against the window.  No, it was a clear, distinct knock, as if someone were trying to get her attention.

Intrigued, she’d set her book down and padded barefoot across the floor.  “Hello?” She’d called out half-heartedly, knowing perfectly well that it was in vain.  Cautiously, she’d turned the gold knob and pushed her squeaking door open, only to be met with an empty hallway.  Just as she’d expected.

It should have worried her.  She should’ve been frightened or at the very least, slightly alarmed.  But she wasn’t.  She wasn’t any of those things.  

If anything, she was intrigued.

A slow smile spread across her face as she stepped out into the hallway.  One half of her brain reminded her that this could very well be one of her sisters who’d chosen to stay home instead of blacking out on Strawberitas and Jungle Juice with creepy guys.  If that were the case, however annoying it would be, she decided she’d laugh it off.  Chalk it up to a harmless, albeit immature prank.  She’d get whoever it was back, in tenfold.

However, that was not the case.

After searching the entire house top to bottom, (even going so far as to enter all of her sister’s rooms uninvited) Misty came to the equally exciting and somewhat disconcerting conclusion that she was, in fact, home alone.

For the rest of the evening, she waited for a second knock that never came.  She spoke, whispered, even shouted into the void, calling upon whatever dark spirit that had seemingly taken up temporary residence in her sorority home.

When only half of her sisters returned home that evening (with the other half apparently electing to stay with their respective boyfriends, girlfriends, fuckbuddies, etc) she’d gone back and forth debating if she should mention it to anyone. Ultimately, however, she’d decided that explaining it was not a good use of her time.  So she’d gone to bed early, hoping to hear another knock.

Another knock never came.

It was about a week later that her attention was caught again.  It wasn’t from a knocking, but from a gentle thud against the cold tile of the kitchen floor.

Misty had been in the kitchen, washing the dishes that had been slowly accumulating in her room for the past few nights of mid study-sesh snacks.  The house was fairly quiet that evening, save for the television in the living room and the chattering of gigging girls in the dining room-- obviously doing more chit-chatting than studying.

She’d been zoned out, lost deep in her thoughts when she’d heard it.  Something in the pantry had fallen.  Assuming it was a clumsy sister, she’d turned around to help clean up-- only to find that no one had been there at all.

There it was, though-- a loaf of bread that had fallen from the top shelf and landed in a spot that, according to physics, it wouldn’t have logically been able to land.

Misty glanced around the kitchen nervously, unsure of whether or not she should even dare touch the bread. She cleared her throat, becoming more and more aware of the lump growing there. She willed her brain to come up with something to say, anything, but all she could force out of her mouth was, “I… who…?”

Honestly, she wasn’t sure what type of response she was expecting, so she wasn’t surprised when she was met with none at all.  Her eyes had darted between the bread and the sink, which she’d left running, as her brain tried with all of its might to explain this situation in a logical manner.  

She held her breath, waiting to see if it would move again while her heart pounded loudly in her ears.  There was no way she could have imagined this, because there it sat, plain as the nose on her face.  With a deep breath and another hurried glance around the room, Misty took a step forward, slower than she’d ever moved in her life.  She craned her neck to see if there was anyone in the pantry (of course there wasn’t) and willed her heart to stop thumping so loudly.  Surely there had to be an explanation for this.  Maybe it was a prank.  Maybe she had left a window open and it was windy outside.

A loud laugh came from the dining room then, nearly startling Misty out of her skin.  She gasped, whirling around only to quickly realize that the sound was no more than a sister, laughing at a joke presented by another sister. Because of course.

Misty sighed, shaking her head at herself and rolling her eyes at how jumpy she was.  For heaven’s sake, it was just a loaf of bread.

She walked to the bread, picking it up to return it to its rightful home in the pantry and allowing herself no further thoughts about the incident.  Whatever it was, there was no logical explanation.  And some things, Misty thought, were just better off that way.  She was comfortable not knowing what had caused the bread to fall.  Maybe she would never know.  And she was okay with that.

Or so she thought.

The final time Misty had heard it had been the most prominent sign, and the one thing that had tipped her over the edge.  It was a night not unlike any other, and Misty was tucked up into bed.  She’d elected to keep the window open while she slept, because the weather that day had been perfect-- not hot, but not too chilly either.  The perfect weather to cuddle up under a blanket. Misty loved it.

So there she was, nightlight on and covers pulled up to her ears. The sheets smelled like the lavender spray she spritzed all over her bed each night, and although it was familiar and comforting, she couldn’t help but notice that tonight smelled slightly different.  The sheets smelled almost spicy, like cinnamon, and although it seemed a bit odd, Misty didn’t spare much more of a thought about it as she yawned most ungracefully.

In the spot between sleep and consciousness, Misty’s ears buzzed.  She could feel herself slipping into fully numbed relaxation, her thoughts coming in and out of focus like waves.  She knew she was about to be pulled completely under and slip into a dream that was already beginning to form in her brain… and then she heard it.

“Misty.”

Loud and clear.

Immediately, her eyes shot open.  As her full consciousness came quickly back to her, she sat up in her bed, eyes scanning the dimly lit room for the source of the voice.  Her blood ran cold as she waited in anticipation to see something-- a shadow, a full figure, anything-- but as she lay there, trying to catch her breath, she couldn’t tell whether she was terrified, relieved, or annoyed to be met with absolutely nothing.

“Is someone there?”

The only sound she was met with was her own breathing, and she let out an exasperated sigh.

“Look, I know you’re here,” she said slowly, absentmindedly fidgeting with the sheets as she waited for a response.  “And I’m… not scared of you.”

It wasn’t really a lie, of course;  she wasn’t scared so much as intrigued. Truthfully, even as a little girl this sort of thing had always fascinated her.  She’d always felt she had a special and strange connection to the other side.  But it had been ages since she’d really tapped into it, and now that she was practically face to face (so to speak) with what she assumed--and hoped-- was a spirit, she was feeling, at the very least, overwhelmed.

“Did you hear me?” She asked, voice a bit louder than before.  “I’m not scared.”  Nothing. “You’ve been messing with me for like, a while now.  And I want you to know I hear you.”  Nothing.   “You don’t have to hide yourself.”

And still, nothing.

Misty sighed. “You know, I think it’s pretty rude of you to not introduce yourself.  You just show up and wake me up when I’m almost asleep and then ignore me?  You throw stuff around, you knock on the walls and the doors and stuff, and for what?  Just so you can get a laugh?”

When she was met once again with the deafening sound of silence, she rolled her eyes.  Misty reached up to rub the sleep out of her eyes with a finger and gave her room one last scan before speaking again.  “I’ll get you to talk,” she says, “one way or another.  Don’t think I won’t.”

Nothing.

“This is a threat.”

Nothing.

Misty shook her head, laying back down in her bed and pulling the covers up to her chin.  It really was a threat.  She had read about ways to contact spirits her entire life, but she’d never actually been brave enough to try any of them.  In fact, in all honesty, the thought of doing it now still scared her a bit.  Nevertheless, this spirit intrigued her.  And as Misty drifted somewhat uneasily into sleep once again, she went over the different ways she was going to try and contact them to know once and for all what it was they had to say.

Which is how Misty finds herself where she is now.

Currently, Misty sits alone in the attic of the old sorority house, setting up for a ritual that she’s never been brave enough to try.  The attic is old and a bit stuffy, and Misty coughs as she crawls along the dusty floor into the center of a circle of unlit candles.  In hindsight, Misty realizes that the ritual doesn’t really need to be performed up here, considering that she does have the entire house to herself this evening.  Still, it seems fitting-- the perfect amount of spooky while still being in a somewhat well- lit and cozy area.

The sky outside is a dark blue,  bright enough for her to be able to see her surroundings just barely; and as she glances around in the darkness, she notices that one of the candles in her circle is slightly out of place.  She reaches forward to adjust the candle, then takes a deep breath in through her nose to steady and ground herself before reaching into her pocket for a small green lighter.

“Alright,” she says, reaching forward to begin lighting the candles one by one.  “It’s just you and me here.  And you will show yourself to me one way or another, alright? Nice and easy.”

As she works her way around the circle, lighting each and every candle, Misty prays that the spirit is a kind one.  Maybe a sister from the very beginning of her sorority’s chapter.  Maybe a lost child trying to find their way to the other side.  Maybe--

“OW, fuck!” Misty yelps when she accidentally burns her finger lighting one of the last candles in the circle.  She sticks the finger in her mouth to wet it, then pulls it out and shakes it violently, trying desperately to ease the pain.

Misty sighs in frustration at the slight inconvenience of her throbbing finger, then finishes lighting the final candle in the circle.  She glances around, pleased with her work, before settling herself in the direct center of the candles, cross legged and as relaxed as she can possibly be.

She tries her hardest to calm her pounding heart. Everything she’d read online about this process had highly recommended getting a professional medium-- one who wasn’t going to get anxious and mess up the process.  Misty, of course, did not have access to that.  So here she is.

Taking another deep, slow breath-- in through her nose and out through her mouth-- Misty allows herself to sit in the stillness for a few beats.  She feels her heart rate slow down, and she takes another breath. Reaching beside her quietly, so as not to disturb the peace that is washing over the room, she picks up one of the stones she’s brought up here for protection.

The small stone feels rough and cold in her hand, and she squints down at it to make sure it’s the stone she wanted.  It’s light purple color tells her that it’s an amethyst, and she focuses intently on it for a few moments before taking another long breath-- in through her nose, out through her mouth.

Misty holds the amethyst in her palm, allowing herself to really observe the feeling of it.  She focuses on the weight of the stone in her hand, and the way the cool, rocky underside feels against her sweaty palm.  She tries to focus on the energy she can feel from the rock, envisioning it surrounded in a glowing white light.  She stays like this for a while, and when she’s certain she can actually feel the warm light that she’s envisioning,  she clears her throat gently and speaks.

“I dedicate this crystal to the highest good of all.  May it be used in light and love.”

Misty lets her words hang in the air for a few moments before repeating them, three more times.  After she’s certain her words have stuck, she slowly brings the stone up to her chest.  She allows herself to pause, to really feel the faint thump of her heart and the jaggedness of the stone against her chest.  She takes in another deep breath and closes her eyes.

“I program this crystal for clarity.  For heightened intuition, for protection from evil.  I program this crystal for open communication, and unclouded thoughts. I program this crystal for calmness.”  With one last breath, she speaks her final words-- a repeat of an earlier sentence.  “May it be used in light and love.”

Misty lowers the crystal then, placing it in front of her in a spot where she can always see it out of the corner of her eye.  Programming the crystal did help to ease her nerves, yes, but not entirely.  Seeing it sitting in front of her in her little circle of candles does wonders, however, to remind her to stay calm, stay focused, and stay present.

So, shit, she thinks, she’s done everything she can at this point.  Now it’s time for her to act.

Shot in the dark, she opens her mouth.

“If there is someone in here with me tonight,” she begins slowly, eyeing the room, “will you please show yourself?”

When she is met with silence, she sighs.  “It’s just me here,” she says softly.  “Just me. We have the whole house to ourselves.  I just want to know who you are.  If there’s something I can help you with.”

Misty pauses, and goes to open her mouth to speak again when she sees it.  The gentle flutter of only one of the flames.  If she’d have blinked, she would’ve missed it-- but there it is.  A little wiggle of the flame that deviates from the gentle flicker of the others.  Misty smiles, and lets out a little surprised breath.

“Was that you?” she asks, then pauses.  She doesn’t even realize she’s holding her breath as she watches the flame intently, and when it flickers abnormally again she lets out a pleased laugh.  

“I see,” she says, unable to hide the smile on her face and the pounding of her heart.  “That was easier than i thought it was going to be.  Are you the spirit that’s been messing with me?”

There’s a brief pause, and then the candle flickers again.  Misty can hardly believe her eyes.  “I knew it,” she says, more to herself than to the spirit. She scrambles to think of the next question she’s going to ask, because she wants to hold the spirit’s attention as long as she possibly can.

“Can you do something else to show me you’re here? Maybe like… move two flames instead of just the one?”

There are a few moments of silence, and Misty almost worries that she’s asked too much of the spirit.  She’s about to say a few words of encouragement, to remind the spirit that it’s only her and them in this room, when she sees it.

Every single flame flickers chaotically, in all different directions.  Misty can hardly believe her eyes.

“Oh my god,” she breathes.  “Holy shit.”

Misty swallows thickly as she ponders what exactly is happening.  “Okay,” she says slowly.  “Can I ask you a few questions?”  

There is no response, but Misty thinks nothing of it.  “Who are you?” she asks, then immediately rolls her eyes at herself.  How is she expecting the spirit to identify themselves to her?

“Okay, don’t answer that,” she quickly adds.  “Umm… how can I ask this?”

There’s a creak in the floor, as if someone were stepping closer to her, and it makes the hair on her arms stand up. She licks her lips as she tries to keep herself calm.

“Okay… um… are you a ghost? One flame for yes, two for no.”

She feels stupid for asking that, but she isn’t really sure how else to ask.  She stares at the candles almost a little too intently, and scoffs when one of the flames flickers.

“Should’ve figured that,” she mutters, “sorry.”

Misty notices that one of the candles is slightly out of place, and she reaches forward to adjust it.  Just as she does, however, she is overcome with the sense of feeling insanely cold. She gasps, retracting her hand quickly, and the air in the room becomes tense.

She clears her throat as she processes what she just felt.  “Was that you?”

There is no response, but the thickness of the air does resolve a bit.  Misty settles appprehensively back down into her comfortable position before changing the subject.

“How long have you been dead?”  she tries.

There’s a brief moment, and she considers rewording her question, when she notices that four different flames flicker in succession, one right after the other.  “I see…” she says,  “So four years then?”

There is no response, and Misty thinks about their answer.  “That’s not very long,” she says, frowning.  “This must be a pretty fresh death, no?  I’m sorry.”

One of the flames wiggles, almost sympathetically, and it makes Misty giggle.  In all honesty, she’s feeling completely comfortable with this spirit.

“Look,” she says, relaxing her posture a bit.  “I wish I was better at this.  Truth be told, I’ve never really…. talked to a ghost before? So like, I hope I’m doing this right.  I wish I had a better communication system though.”

The flame that wiggled gently before suddenly begins to shake with more vigor, burning brighter and somewhat bigger than it had before.  This catches Misty’s attention.

“Do you have something you’d like to say?” She asks, and the flame grows slightly larger.

“You’re free to say it,” she says, moving to tuck her knees under her butt.  “Like I said, it’s just you and me in here.”  She watches the flame dance, enthralled and fascinated by its movement.

“Why me?” she asks, and another flame begins wiggling violently as well.  “I mean… why have you contacted me?  Surely you have something to say.”

A third flame begins shaking, and Misty is growing a bit anxious.  “I know you have a voice,” she says, her own voice a bit louder now.  “I’ve heard it.  You woke me up the other night.”

Misty’s eyes dart from one flame to the next, willing herself not to panic at the way the flames seem rather large.  Out of the corner of her eye, she sees the reflection of the flames on the glassy edges of her amethyst, and she thinks perhaps she should reach for it to remind her to stay grounded, stay calm, stay focused.

Just as she raises her hand to reach for it, however, a fourth flame grows larger in size.

“What are you trying to tell me?” she asks, growing a bit frustrated.  “I don’t know how else to help you other than--”

Misty is cut off when she sees the amethyst move, ever so slightly.  She freezes in her tracks.

She wants to pass that off as a trick of the lights, but there’s no way she can.  She saw it move, plain and simple.  Not to mention she’d heard the soft scratching of the stone moving against the wooden floor.

When Misty looks up, almost all of the candles are flickering aggressively.  She gasps, completely panicked now.

“Show yourself!” she blurts out.  “I know you’re here, I know you have something to say!”

She watches the flames intensify, and she almost considers abandoning this entire mission and blowing them all out right here.

“Why are you doing this?” she asks.  “Just… say something!”

In somewhat of a trance by the way the candle lights flicker, Misty feels her heart rate increase as she stays stuck, frozen against the wooden floor.  That same smell of cinnamon as before fills her nose, and she swallows thickly around a dry throat.  “I--” she nearly chokes on her words.  “Why are you trying to scare me?” she shouts.  “I said, say something!”

Still nothing.  Now she’s growing increasingly more impatient.

And then it happens.

With a sudden gust of air Misty is shoved, and all of the air in her lungs is let out with a forceful grunt.  The candles are extinguished all at once, and the room instantly grows a stuffy sort of dark.  The moon shining brightly in the window somehow fills Misty’s stomach with anxiety and dread, not relief.  She swallows thickly, taking a few moments to gather her wits and straining her eyes against the thick blackness surrounding her.

The stillness of the room is alarming, and Misty’s heart pounds aggressively against her rib cage.  It isn’t until her lungs start burning that she realizes she’s been holding her breath for fear of breaking the silence, and she lets it out slowly and cautiously.  

With a shaky hand she reaches forward until she feels her lighter once again, and she flicks it on. She can hardly see in the dimly lit room, but her eyes begin to adjust, and she glances around herself nervously.  “Who are you?”

“It’s about time, sunshine.”

The voice comes from behind her and startles her so much that she jumps, flinging the lighter halfway across the floor and bathing the room in darkness once again.  Shit.

“Ohh,” coos the voice, deep but unthreatening.  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.  Here.”

Misty feels a brush of cold air that causes the hairs on her arms to stand up before, one by one, each candle in the room flickers alive once again.  Her jaw trembles as she tries to find the source of the voice in the now illuminated room.

“I thought you weren’t scared,” the voice says again, now coming from a different direction.

“I wasn’t,” she says, then swallows around the dryness of her throat.  “I’m not.”   It’s a complete lie, but she doesn’t want to let her guard down now.

The voice is raspy and deep, but friendly, and a thick, honey drip of a british accent coats the noise sweetly.  “That’s a lie,” it says, and it sounds like a man.  A pouty man at that.  “You weren’t so afraid of me before.  Now you’re shaking.”

“You just startled me, that’s all.  Where are you?”

“Well, I’m not going to show you if you’re going to be scared.”

Somehow, his words aren’t comforting.  Still, Misty isn’t a quitter.  “What is there to be scared of?  Are you a ghost?”

“I am.”

She smirks.  “Are you an ugly ghost?”

This time, he scoffs. “Hardly.”

“Well!” Misty says.  “Someone’s full of himself, isn’t he?”

“I’m not!” he insists, and he sounds closer now.   “It’s just that you spoke a big game before. Now I’m not so sure you’re ready for this after all.”

Misty sighs, growing increasingly more irritated by the second.  “If I wasn’t ready for this, I wouldn’t have summoned you.  I thought you were intriguing before.  Now you’re just annoying.”  She moves like she’s going to stand, and suddenly feels another gust of cold air on her arm.

“Wait!”  He sounds as though he’s right in front of her now, and she’s overwhelmed by his cinnamon scent.  “I’m not trying to be annoying.  I just… want to make sure you’re ready for this.”

“I told you I am,” Misty huffs.  She gestures vaguely around the room.  “Your words are scaring me more than any of this did.  Why wouldn’t I be ready to see you?”

“I don’t know,” he says softly.  “Just… sometimes people don’t know how to respond when they see their first manifestation.”

“I’ve seen a ghost before, dude.”

Now, it’s his turn to sound intrigued.  “Have you?”

“M-hm.  I’ve always been able to sense these kinds of things.”

“But have you seen one?”

“Shadows mostly.  Or I heard voices.”

“But a physical manifestation--”

“You don’t count shadows?”

“Of course I do.”  There’s a noise, and it sounds as if the spirit has just sat down.  “But I’m not a shadow.”

“What are you then?”

“I’m a different type of ghost. Did you know there are several types?”

Misty leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees.  “I mean yeah, of course, but I had always just assumed you all showed yourselves as shadows.”

“Not all of us.  I mean, we can-- but it isn’t natural for me.  I’m not sure we’ve got an actual name for me, but there are many out there like me. We’re a certain type of intelligent ghost that can physically interact with the linear time and space around us.  Usually we’re harmless.”

“Are you harmless?”

Once again, she can practically hear the spirit’s smile.  “Usually.”

“So… when I see you, you’ll look like, what, just a regular dude?”

“Yeah, more or less.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad.  Why are you hyping this up so much?”

“I don’t know! It’s been a long time since I’ve manifested in front of someone!”

“Ah.” Misty grins.  “So you’re the one who isn’t ready.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“It’s why you’ve been stalling for so long. You wanted my attention so badly, and now you’ve got it.  So show yourself.”

“Fine,” he huffs.  “There’s no need to be pushy.”

Silence follows his words, and Misty stares blankly ahead-- waiting for something to happen.  She shakes her head slowly and shrugs.  “I don’t…. Get it....”

“Turn around.”  

Once again, Misty jumps out of pure surprise when the spirit’s voice comes from behind her.  She whirls around almost too quickly, nearly losing her balance despite being seated.  The minute she sees him standing calmly behind her, she rises.

She takes a moment to really just look at him.  She’s not sure what exactly she’d been expecting; maybe a glowing transparent blob of a young man from the early 1900s, or, worst case scenario, a perfectly normal looking guy who just happened to have a very visible axe lodged into his brain (or some other indication of his death)-- but in any case, he doesn’t look like anything she’d been anticipating.  He looks like any other guy she’d see walking around on campus, and if it weren’t for the hardly visible glow outlining his body, she’d assume this was a new Kappa pledge pulling a prank on her as part of his hazing.

He’s got shaggy brown hair that hangs from his head in curls that frame his face and his ears.  His eyes are blue-- or are they green?  Misty isn’t close enough to be able to tell, and truthfully she’s still a bit apprehensive about befriending a dead guy, so she stays put.  Whatever color they are though, they’re beautiful.  He’s not floating-- she doesn’t know why she’d been expecting him to-- but standing flat on his feet he’s still taller than her.  He’s one of the prettiest people she’s ever seen, and it makes her feel faint (although she blames that on the fact that she’s face to face with someone who’s died).

“I’m Harry,” he says slowly.  He’s calm, but he’s unsure.  He watches her as if waiting for some type of earth-shattering reaction.  The less she moves, the more nervous he becomes.  When she doesn’t say anything, he speaks again.  “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

For someone who isn’t alive-- Misty can’t seem to get over that fact-- he dresses remarkably well.   He honestly does look like a Kappa brother, and it weirds her out.

“How did you do that?” She frowns at herself.  That was the first thing she could think to say?

Harry laughs, relieved that she’s seemingly so calm. He shrugs.  “Dunno.  Just something I can do.”  He takes a step towards her and, instinctively, Misty takes half a step back.

This time, Harry smirks, but he doesn’t move closer.  “Are you still scared?”

“I was never scared!” Misty groans.

“Just startled then.”  There’s a twinkle in his eyes, and now Misty can see that they’re clearly green.

Misty rolls her eyes.  It’s impossible to stay annoyed at him when he’s looking at her like this.  “Fine!” she sighs.  “I’m a little scared.”

“Ha!”  Harry beams jubilantly.  The smile fades just as quickly as it came, however, and he frowns.  “Why are you still scared?”

“I don’t know! I’ve just never done this before.”

The bright smile returns to his face, softer this time, and Misty-- though still apprehensive-- relaxes a bit.  “I’m not going to hurt you,” he says gently.  

“I didn’t think you were,” Misty replies.  “But I also don’t know why you wanted my attention so badly.”

Harry shrugs.  “Because.  I think you’re pretty.”

It’s so straightforward that Misty is taken aback, and she scoffs.  “What, seriously?”

“Yeah.”  Harry blinks back at her, standing by his words completely and keeping that air of smugness about him.

Misty waits for a further explanation, but when Harry only stares back at her and raises his eyebrows, she realizes that she isn’t getting one.  She laughs in disbelief.  “So you went through all this trouble…. Just to tell me I’m pretty?”

“Suppose so.”  Harry’s head cocks a bit to the left, and it’s the first time that Misty notices the endearing little dimple on his cheek.  She doesn’t know why he flusters her so badly, but she feels her cheeks heating up when she realizes that yes, he’s telling the truth.  He really did just want to tell her she was pretty.

Misty’s hand comes up to comb through her hair and she swallows thickly. “Oh.  Well.  Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

The silence that follows isn’t awkward, but it’s tense.  The air is thick with tension, in fact, and Misty wonders if it’s possible to flirt with a ghost.

Harry clears his throat.  “Anyway. If you want me to leave you alone--”

“No!” Misty responds, almost too quickly.  “I don’t.  Not at all.”

“You don’t?”  Harry beams back at her, and Misty realizes that he really is just as nervous as she is.

“I don’t,” she replies.  “But, I mean-- are you just gonna live here from now on?  In the attic?”

Harry laughs, a tinkling noise that sends butterflies straight to the pit of Misty’s belly. “I live in this house one way or another.  Have for several years.  It’s just that I can only show myself at a certain time of year.”

“But why is that?”

“You ask a lot of questions, don’t you?”  Harry laughs, taking another cautious step towards Misty.  When she doesn’t retreat, he relaxes and fully closes the gap between them.   Once again, the smell of cinnamon fills Misty’s nose.  Slowly and decidedly, Harry reaches forward to touch her arm and the instant his hand comes in contact with her skin, she is flooded with goosebumps.

His skin is cold, but not as cold as she was expecting. Although honestly, she wasn’t expecting to be able to make tangible contact with him at all.  But she can feel it so clearly-- five fingertips trailing comfortingly along the skin of her arm with the gentleness and intention of a lover.  Five perfectly groomed fingernails that show no indication of death.  Standing this close to him, she can make out the details of his face; a little scar on his neck, a small freckle on his lip, soft smile lines around his eyes.  Misty shivers-- partly because of the coldness of his touch, but mostly because it’s been ages since she’s stood this close to someone so beautiful.

His fingers trail down to her hand, and then more specifically, the one finger she burned.  She’s almost in a trance as he brushes his cold fingers against the stinging patch of skin, and in an instant any pain she felt in the throbbing finger is now gone.

Misty glances from her finger, then back to Harry, who’s smiling the most tender smile she’s ever seen.  “How…?” She begins slowly.

Harry lets out a sigh, and Misty realizes they’ve just been staring at one another.  “Don’t worry about it, sunshine.”

Misty practically melts into his touch, and she isn’t sure if he’s got a spell on her or what, but she has the overwhelming urge to kiss him now.  She swallows, then opens her mouth to speak before Harry cuts her off.  “Your sisters are home.”

“What?”

She doesn’t have time for answers, however, when through the attic window she sees the blue mini cooper of one of her sorority sisters pull up to the curb.  She watches the car for a moment.  “How did you--”

But when she turns to finish her question, Harry is gone.

------

The following day, Misty finds herself bundled up and sitting in her favorite spot on campus, despite the chill in the air.  She’s sitting on the cold grass against a large rock, overlooking a tiny stream that runs throughout the entire small town. She knows it won’t be long before the stream freezes over, so, despite the cold weather, she’s brought herself here to read and listen to the babbling water while she still can.

Harry hadn’t showed up for the rest of the night last night, which had led Misty to wonder if she’d dreamt the entire thing.  It had kept her up most of  the night, and when he still hadn’t appeared this morning, she knew she had to do something to get her mind off of him.  

Which is how she’s found herself here now.  Most of her homework for the week is done, so she’s decided to spoil herself by grabbing her favorite coffee at the shop she frequents and a new book at the library before heading to her spot.

It’s a brisk October day, and the Halloween decorations hanging from the campus houses flutter in the chilly wind. Misty wraps her scarf a little tighter around her neck and snuggles further into her coat as she turns the page of her book.

“There you are.”

Misty jumps, nearly spilling her coffee, when she hears it.  The thick, British drawl she’s been so desperately craving to hear all morning comes from behind her, and she whirls around to see Harry, in the exact same outfit he’d been in last night, smirking at her.

“Stop doing that!” she hisses.  Despite her grumpy tone, she scoots over when Harry makes his way to sit beside her.  She feels immediately comforted when she smells the cinnamon that comes with his presence.

Harry chuckles, plopping into the grass. “Sorry.  Didn’t mean to.”

“It’s about time you showed up,” Misty huffs, putting her finger between the pages of her book to mark her place.

The smirk on Harry’s face is so smug that Misty wants to slap it off of him.  “You’ve been expecting me?”

This throws Misty off guard, and her cheeks go hot.  “Well, yeah,” she says, trying to maintain her attitude. “I mean, don’t you think you owe me an explanation?”

Harry laughs.  “No, I don’t.”

“Seriously?”  Misty rolls her eyes.  “You’re the most annoying person I’ve ever met.”

“Not a person,” Harry states.  “I’m a ghost.”

“Well whatever you are, you’re annoying.”  

“Thank you.”  Harry nods towards the book in her hands.  “What are you reading?”

Misty doesn’t answer him, suddenly far more self-conscious than she’d been before.  He reaches out to take the book and pulls it closer to himself to read the title aloud.

“‘When Ghosts Speak: Understanding the World of Earthbound Spirits.’”  He snorts.  “Seriously?”

“Well if you won’t tell me anything, I have to figure it out myself.”

“I’ll tell you anything you want to know!” Harry says, relaxing against the rock and stretching his feet out in front of him.  “Fire away.”

Misty eyes him for a moment.  “You’re not kidding?”

“I’m an open book.”

She takes his sudden burst of confident vulnerability and considers the questions she wants to ask.  There had been so many in her head since he’d disappeared last night, but now that she’s on the spot, she’s blanking.

Misty clears her throat.  “Alright.  I’ll start off easy.  How are you here?”

Harry smiles.  “I can go anywhere I want to.  Just like you.”

“Can anyone else see you?”

“If I wanted them to.  But I don’t.”

Misty looks around, suddenly nervous that anyone nearby might hear her speaking and think she’s talking to herself.  Luckily, she seems to be the only person crazy enough to willingly subject herself to this weather.  So she turns back to Harry.

“So then why did you wait for me to summon you?  Why didn’t you just show yourself?”

“That’s where it gets tricky,” Harry responds. “I can only manifest during a certain time period every year.  But in order to manifest at all, I have to be invited first.  After I accept the invitation, I’m free to come and go as I please until the end of the season.”

“So you’re going to be a pest for this entire fall then?”  Despite her words, Misty smirks.

Harry matches her wit and chuckles.  “No, not that kind of season.  Scorpio season.”

“Oh god,” Misty groans.  “You’re an astrology freak, aren’t you?”

Harry snorts.  “Look, I didn’t make the rules.  That’s just the way it is.  When Scorpio season starts, I can show myself.  When it ends, I leave.”

“Where do you go?  When it ends, I mean.”

Harry shrugs.  “I dunno.  Nowhere bad.  It’s just kinda… nothing.  I can’t explain it.”

“Is it scary?”

Harry considers her words, then shakes his head.  “I… really can’t explain it. It’s not scary.  It goes by fast.  I just kind of… sleep, I guess.  Nothingness.” A sudden thought dawns on him, like he’s remembering something.  “But! I can pop into people’s dreams while I’m there.”

“You can?”

“Yup.  I don’t do it too often, just because it takes a lot of my energy, but I’ve seen some pretty interesting things, I’ll tell you that.”

Misty doesn’t say anything, and Harry lets her sit in silence while she processes his words. He knows it’s a lot, and he knows he would be weirded out if he were in her shoes.  So he watches her, trying to gauge her reaction.

Finally, she turns to him.  She doesn’t look nervous, but something is on her mind. “Can I ask you something… a little more personal?”

“Anything.”

“Okay.”  Misty takes a deep breath, focusing her attention on the birds hopping around nearby.  “How did you… die?”

“How did I die?”  Harry repeats her question, then blows out all of his air in a puff.  “It’s not anything exciting.”

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,  I just--”

“No, no!” Harry holds up his hand.  “I don’t mind.  It’s just… anticlimactic I suppose. And you’re probably going to laugh.”

Misty leans closer, a serious look spreading across her face.  “I wouldn’t dare laugh about someone’s death.”

“No, you will,” Harry says, smiling to himself.  “It’s kinda funny.”  He takes a deep breath, preparing to tell the story.  “I fell off the roof of your house.”

Harry laughs, but Misty doesn’t find it funny at all.  “That’s horrible, Harry.  How did you--”

“While having sex.”

Misty stops her sentence dead in its tracks, and a new look of pure surprise blossoms on her face.  “You…”

Harry sighs, launching into the story.  “A few years ago, your sorority was throwing a Halloween party.  I wasn’t into Greek life but a few of my mates dragged me along.  I was already pretty drunk by the time we got there, right, so all bets were off.  Well, I met this girl, right?  Never even learned her bloody name, but I guess she was a sister.  Made eyes at me from across the room and it was over.  Drank some more, chatted her up, and then we decided ‘hey, might as well.’  Only, all of the bedrooms were taken.  So then, she had the brilliant idea to go up on the roof.  It was raining so, you know, in hindsight we should’ve known better.  But we were drunk and horny and stupid. So we went up, started going at it, slipped, and uh… splat.  So to speak.”

Misty doesn’t know how to respond, and Harry doesn’t expect her to.  He just chuckles.  “Found me with my pants around my bloody ankles,” he continues. “ Not a very dignified way to go is it?”

“That’s awful.”  Misty frowns.

“Eh.  What can you do? Apparently the girl lived but she felt so guilty that she dropped out of school and moved away.  I guess no one’s heard from her since.”

“You don’t think she did it on purpose, do you?”

“Oh, nah.  No way.  It was an accident.”

“I’m sorry to make you talk about it.”

“I don’t mind talking about it,” Harry replies.  “All I can do is laugh about it at this point.”

“Well,” Misty says, shifting her position against the rock.  “I still don’t think it’s funny.”

“Sorry to disappoint.”

“Can I ask you something else?” she asks, changing the subject.

“Mm?”

“Why me?  Like, what was it about me that made you decide ‘Ah, yeah, she’s the one I’m gonna haunt?’”

Harry smiles, crossing his foot over his opposite leg and resting his ankle to his knee.  He gives her question a moment of thought before responding.  “Told you.  Think you’re pretty.”

Misty rolls her eyes but the smile that forms on her lips is undeniable. “That’s seriously it?”

“I mean,” Harry says slowly, absentmindedly shaking his foot back and forth.  “Yeah.  Been stuck at that house for the past, what, four Scorpio seasons now?  You’re the first girl I’ve seen who’s caught my attention.”

“Ew, so you like, spy on us?”

Harry snorts.  “No, god, I’m not a perv.  But, you know, I live there, too, so.  Sometimes I’ll join in for movie night.  Or game night.  I also pop in to the occasional party.  But I don’t spy.”

“Good,” Misty says.  “Although I don’t even think you’d find anything juicy anyway.  They’re a bunch of duds.”

“Can I ask you something now?”  Harry’s got an intrigued smile on his face.

“Yeah.”

“Why did you join a sorority?  You seem to hate everything about it.”

Misty sighs.  “I don’t hate it,” she says slowly. “I mean, it definitely wouldn’t have been my first choice for like, extra-curricular activities.”

“So why then?”

“I’m a legacy,” she replies.  “My mom and my grandma were both Beta Sigmas. They would’ve killed me if I didn’t.”

“Is it really that serious to them?”

Misty smirks.  “For someone who lives in a sorority house, you sure know nothing about sorority girls.”

Harry’s laugh is sudden and it makes Misty’s heart warm despite the coldness of his presence.  “It would appear so.  Jeez.”

The two fall silent for the next few moments, residual giggles dying off into happy sighs.  It’s obvious that they both enjoy one another’s company, and Misty is ridiculously glad that he’s come back to check up on her today.

After about a minute of silence, however, another question pops into her head.  “So.  You’re a Scorpio then?”  

Harry laughs, shaking his head. “I’m not, no.  Or, I wasn’t, when I was alive.”

“Why Scorpio season then?”

“Because it coincides with spooky season, I guess. Or maybe because I died at a Halloween party?  I don’t know.  I didn’t make it up.”

“What are you then?  What’s your sign or whatever?”

Harry smirks.  “Guess.”

“Taurus.”

He shakes his head.  “Guess again.”

“Leo.”

Harry makes a face now.  “No.  God, a Leo?  Who do you think I am?”

Misty giggles. “I don’t know! I don’t know shit about astrology!”

“Obviously.”  Harry snorts.  “I’m an Aquarius.”

“Is that good?”

“It’s the best.”

“Great.”

Harry giggles, letting the conversation naturally fizzle out before starting his next sentence.  “Misty?”

It’s the first time she’s heard him say her name to her face, not just in her ear late at night while she’s trying to sleep, and it fills her with butterflies yet again.  “Hm?”

“I’m glad you’re not, like, scared of me.  Really glad.”

Misty giggles.  “I am, too, honestly.”

“Even though you were scared in the beginning.”

Misty’s smile turns into a scowl, but there is still a playfulness in her eyes and in her tone that makes Harry laugh.  “I wasn’t. I hate you.”

“No you don’t.”  Harry scoots the tiniest bit closer to Misty and nods at her book.  “So.  Tell me what’s going on in your book.”

-----

Harry just might be the most annoying person-- or rather, entity-- that Misty has ever come across in her entire life.

And she can’t get enough of him.

They’d spent a good portion of their days together throughout the past week, with Harry lingering around longer and longer each day.  Misty didn’t mind, of course, and she welcomed his company.  By the fourth day of spending time together, they were chatting as if they were the best of friends.  Misty had learned about Harry’s life prior to coming to this school, about his mom and his sister and how he checked in on them via their dreams whenever he could. She learned about what he’d been studying prior to his death, and what he wanted to do with that degree.  And Harry answered each and every one of her questions with patience (and usually a snarky remark), which Misty loved.

In turn, Harry had learned much of the same information about Misty’s life, and he found her fascinating.  He asked her just as many questions as she asked him, and whenever she called for him, he showed up.  He loved it every time.

He’d manifested in the kitchen this morning as she was pouring herself a cup of coffee, and he’d followed her around like a child while she tried to find something decent for breakfast.  She hadn’t acknowledged him much, for fear of any of the other girls noticing, but she did manage to sneak him a few sleepy grins that he found himself melting for every time.

He’d then followed her up to her room, where he chatted with her while she crunched away at a bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios.  They’d discussed her plans for the day and he’d asked her if he could stay with her (although truth be told, he didn’t really have to ask; he knew she’d say yes anyway).

It hadn’t been a very busy day by any means.  Misty had had a few errands to run (which Harry had found unbelievably boring and dipped out of, promising her he’d be waiting for her at home).  Presently, Misty finds herself sitting on her bed, laptop resting comfortably on her thighs, while she types away at a book report that she has due at midnight.

Harry had offered her his help, which she’d taken him up on, but Misty soon came to find out that the word ‘help’ in his case was used very loosely.  Harry had elected instead to continuously chat and distract Misty, and each distraction was met with a protest from her… as well as her deepest insight on whatever topic Harry had decided to bring up.  Truth be told, Misty welcomed the distraction.  She loved picking his brain, and he hers.

Currently, Misty types away mindlessly, while Harry sits quietly at the foot of her bed flipping through one of Misty’s old yearbooks.  Every now and again he’ll marvel at something in the yearbook, or he’ll tease Misty about her braces or tell her she looked cute during spirit week.  “‘Nerd Day’ huh?  Suits you.”  

After Harry has been particularly quiet for a while, however, Misty starts to get suspicious.  

She glances up from her work to find Harry staring at her, a mischievous grin that she hates to love tugging at his cheeks.  

“What?” she says, subconsciously squirming under his gaze.

He only blinks, hardly bothering to look away or wipe the smirk from his face.  “Sorry.  Just thinking.”

“About?”

“Don’t know if I should say…”

This makes Misty’s cheeks grow hot, though she tries her hardest to cover it up.  “Harry don’t be an idiot.”

Harry chuckles, using his finger to mark the page of Misty’s yearbook that he’s currently on.  “It’s nothing bad,” he says casually.  “It’s fine.”

“Then stop staring at me,” Misty says with a smile.  “Creep.  If you have something to say then say it.”

Harry grins, reaching down to wiggle his fingers against the underside of her foot.  “I do, actually.  I have an idea.”

Misty lowers her laptop screen just a tad so she can see him better before speaking.  “What kind of idea?”  

The smile on her face and the narrowing of her eyes tells Harry that she’s in before she even knows his idea, and he has to contain his giggles as he speaks.

“You wanna play a prank on your sisters?”  He asks.  “Just to spook them a bit.  ‘Tis the season and all that.”

“What kind of a prank?”  Misty sits up, leaning closer to Harry and lowering her voice excitedly.

“I don’t know,” Harry says, “maybe like… I could throw some stuff around.  Make a few noises.  Pretend to possess you.”

Immediately, Misty is intrigued.  She gently tosses the laptop to the side and beams.  “Shit, you think we should?”

“I do,” Harry says, a twinkle already forming in his eye.  “Obviously we’ll have to work out the details, but yeah.  Something like that.”

“Pretend to possess me,” Misty says, “do it.”

Harry raises his eyebrows.  “Someone’s a bit eager, aren’t they?”

Misty rolls her eyes, but the embarrassed little smirk on her lips doesn’t go unnoticed by Harry.  “Not like that,” she says, then tacks on a mumbled and affectionate “stupid.”

“Not like what?”  Harry wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, purposely making Misty squirm.  She laughs and tosses a pillow at his face.

“Nevermind,” she says through a grin, “I don’t even want to do this anymore.”

“Liar,” Harry says.

“Brat,” Misty replies.

Harry’s eyes twinkle.  “I take it that you’re in, then.”

“I guess,” Misty says. “Don’t look so smug.”

“You’re cute when you’re annoyed with me,” Harry says casually, and it takes Misty a moment to even register what he’s said.

Misty feels the heat rising in her cheeks at his words, and as flustered as he’s made her, she bounces back quickly.  “I must be adorable all the time then.”

Harry shrugs.  “You said it, not me.”

“Anyway,” Misty says, desperately trying to change the subject to cover up how giddy he’s making her,  “what did you actually have in mind?”

Harry smirks.  “How good are your acting skills?”

---

Coincidentally, tonight is movie night among a few of the girls and their boyfriends. Which,  Misty and Harry had quickly realized, was the perfect setting to execute their plan.

It’s 8:30pm, and Misty is sitting on the couch under a blanket, snuggled between a few other sisters.  There are sisters scattered around the entire living room, some cuddled up with their respective partners and some without. Everyone has alcohol of some sort; Misty herself is about a glass and a half of wine in, and she’s actively trying to ignore the thoughts about how badly she wishes Harry were sitting beside her on the couch.

Especially since she’s the only one who can see him right now, sitting so casually in the corner of the room, eyes glued to the screen like everyone else’s, and looking so, so handsome.

If Misty didn’t know any better she would think he was just another one of the guys, and for a moment she allows herself to indulge in the make-believe world in which Harry is her boyfriend who has come over to join the girls for movie night.  In her mind, he’s just gotten up to get Misty a bottle of water, but got so interested in the film that he ended up just sitting down to finish the scene.

It’s selfish, Misty knows.  But seeing him like this, so casually cute, makes her heart hurt.  Obviously she’s got things way easier than Harry, considering she is the only one between them with a beating heart.  But she has to wonder if it gets lonely in his world.  He can only visit his loved ones through dreams.  He can only show himself for a month out of the year.  Even now, he sits alone in the corner of the room, far from everyone else.

He had joked about it earlier, saying the reason he sat so far away from everyone was because the spot he was in gave him the best seat of the house every time.  However, a few moments later he’d admitted that the actual reason was because he didn’t want to make anyone cold and ruin the fun.  He’d given her a soft smile and brushed that statement off with yet another joke, but it had broken Misty’s heart.

As if sensing her thoughts, Harry turns just in time to catch Misty staring at him, and he grins immediately.  

“Stop staring at me, creep.” He winks at her.

For a full five seconds, Misty is terrified that Harry’s just blown his own cover.  She tenses up, glancing around the room in shock just waiting for someone to say something about hearing a voice.  When she realizes, with confusion, that not a single person has moved, Harry speaks again.

“Don’t worry, they can’t hear me.  Only you.”

Misty glances back at Harry, wanting to say something back but knowing she can’t, and he grins.  “God, I bet it’s killing you, not being able to talk back to me.  I could have some fun with this.”

When Misty shoots a subtle glare in Harry’s direction, he gasps.  “If looks could kill,” he says, shaking his head.

Misty wants to laugh and throw something at him and fight back but she knows she can’t, and he’s right, it is killing her.   She cracks her neck gently from side to side, in an attempt to relax herself, and Harry laughs.

“Alright, I’ll have mercy.  Are you ready to get started?  Or are you super into the movie?”

Misty’s face goes into a completely deadpan expression as she glances at Harry, as if to say “really?”  How on earth is she supposed to answer that?

“Oh,” Harry chuckles.  “Uh, blink once if you want me to start.”

Misty blinks as subtly as she can while still trying to make her answer clear to Harry.  He beams.

“Blink once if you think I’m hot.”

This time, Misty can’t control herself.  She lets out an exasperated sigh that does, unfortunately, catch the attention of a few of her friends.

“You good?”  The girl sitting beside her on the couch-- Kennedy-- laughs.  

Before Misty even has time to respond, however, Harry swoops in and saves the day. He knocks hard, twice, on the wooden floor, and every head in the room turns.

There is an intense shift of energy once everyone realizes that there is nothing that could have possibly made that noise.  

“Uhhh…???”  Another sister, Rosie, speaks up, curling even further into her boyfriend.

“What the fuck was that dude?”  Greg, one of the most unbearably fratty boys Misty has ever known, sits up.

And there sits Harry, smirking in the corner, obviously pleased with his work.

Misty realizes quickly that she can’t blow her own cover, so her face changes to one of apprehension and terror, mirroring everyone else’s.  “Uhh… everyone heard that, right?”

“That was like, distinct!” Rosie says.  “Like two deliberate knocks.”

All at once everyone starts talking over one another.

“What the fuck, dude--”

“Was it over in that corner?”

“Go check it out--”

“No you go check it out!”

“Was it one knock or two?”

“You guys, what the fuck was that?’

Misty glances at Harry, who is staring back at her expectantly, as if to ask if it’s okay if he makes the next move.  Misty gives him a subtle nod, and Harry rises to his feet.  

He walks gently along the wooden floor, making sure to get as close as possible to the people sitting scattered along it.  He wants them to feel his presence, and each person has a different reaction.  

It’s Luca, Rosie’s boyfriend, who says something first.  “Wait, I’m not even kidding you, I’m cold as shit right now.”

Harry grins down at Luca, shooting Misty a wink.  “Uh ohhhh,” Harry says softly. He reaches down to lightly tickle his fingers against the back of Luca’s neck, and Luca instantly shoots up onto his feet.

“Swear to GOD dude, something just fucking touched me!”

Rosie shoots to her feet as well, taking a step away from Luca.  “Luca you better not be fucking around--”

“Why would I fuck around about that shit?” he asks, voice raising.

“Guys there has to be a logical explanation for this.”  Kennedy speaks up, reaching for her drink on the table.  “Like, it’s getting colder outside.  Maybe there was a draft.”

Rosie sniffs the air a few times, then swallows.  Misty has never seen anyone look so worried before in her life, and it makes her want to laugh.  “Guys, I smell cinnamon.”

“Oops,” Harry says, turning to Misty.  “Might’ve gotten a bit too close there.”

In an instant, Harry is out of Misty’s sight.  But he manifests again in the back corner of the room and steps on a particularly creaky floor board, causing everyone’s heads to turn.

Harry observes the shocked looks on all of their faces, then gives Misty a shit eating grin.  “I do that a lot, actually,” he says.

As if backing up his words, another sister, Angie, speaks up.  “That’s the noise!” she says.  “Lindsey and I were in here the other night and we heard it!”

“I’ve heard it too,” Kennedy says.  “It happens like, all the time.”

“So you’re just like, not even scared?” Rosie asks, panic in her voice now.  “You’re like, completely fine with it?   Like it’s normal to you?”

“Misty.”  Harry’s voice is now right in Misty’s ear, and it makes her jump.  She can feel his cold presence against her skin, and his all too delicious spicy scent engulfs her.  She shivers, but turns her head as if to let him know he’s got her attention.

“You ever seen the movie Beetlejuice?”

Misty giggles and nods subtly, glad that no one in the room is really paying attention to her right now.

“Yeah?” Harry chuckles against Misty’s skin.  “Thinkin’ we could do somethin’ like that one scene.”

Misty doesn’t even have time to question what scene he’s even referring to, his coldness is gone just as quickly as it came.  She turns around again, eyes scanning the room of her panicked classmates and sisters, before she finds him in the corner of the room, messing with an iphone that’s charging.  He doesn’t pick it up, instead he just taps the screen.  Luckily, the phone is unlocked.

“It’s 2020,” he mumbles, “Who doesn’t have a bloody passcode on their phone?”

The unlocking of the phone, however, does not go unnoticed.

It’s Rosie who points it out, because of course it is.  “Guys,” she shrieks, “look at Greg’s phone!”

All eyes are on Harry-- or rather, the phone, and Harry rolls his eyes.  “Shit,” he mutters, then looks up at Misty.  “Ask them if they hear something.”

Misty wastes no time.  “Guys… holy shit do you hear that?”  

The room goes quiet, save for the movie that no one had bothered to pause.  Lindsey scrambles for the remote and quickly mutes the television, and everyone is stock still.

“I don’t hear anything,” Rosie whispers, and Misty quickly cuts her off with a sharp “Shhh!”

She glances back over at Harry, hoping he has a plan.  He doesn’t even look at her, he just continues scrolling through the phone with a concentrated frown on his face.

Greg rises to his feet and takes a cautious step towards his phone.  “What the fuck--” he mumbles.

And then Harry nods, pushes a button, and everyone jumps as the opening bars of Tainted Love fill the room via the bluetooth speakers in the corner.

A small smirk begins growing on Harry’s face as he slowly rises from his squatted position beside the phone. “Ahh,” he says slowly. “An absolute classic.”

Everyone seems to be in shock at what’s happening, so no one moves or reaches for the phone to stop the music.  Harry is beaming at Misty, and now she can’t even try to hide the smile on her face as he begins bopping towards her.  

His shoulders are grooving along with the beat, and he does a silly side step type of jig in Greg’s direction that makes Misty almost lose her composure completely.  He punches the air with each prominent beat, wiggling his hips closer to Greg.  

“Get his phone, Misty,” Harry says quietly, continuing his slow dancing movements.  “Don’t let anyone turn the song off.”

Just as Greg takes a step forward to get to his phone, Harry swoops in, taking both of Greg’s hands in his and dancing with him-- a very poor version of a ballroom dance.

Nearly everyone in the room shrieks.  “Greg this isn’t funny!” Rosie squeals.  “Knock it off!”

“I’m not fuckin’ doin’ this!” Greg calls over his shoulder, as Harry spins him around the room.

Misty seizes this opportunity and makes a beeline for the phone, glad that everyone is too preoccupied watching Greg dance with a seemingly invisible partner.  Harry, although focused on the dancing, keeps his eyes on her the entire time.  When he sees her pick up the phone and subtly slip it into the pocket of her sweat pants, he grins. “Good girl.”

Misty tries to ignore how those words make her feel.

Harry ends his dance with Greg by dramatically turning Greg away.  He glances at Misty with the most mischievous look she’s ever seen.  “Who’s next?”

He doesn’t give her time to even think of an answer, he’s already shimmying his way over to Rosie.  He stops briefly to deliberately knock a pillow off of the couch and giggles, “oops!”  when it startles the daylights out of Lindsey. Everyone in the room has begun to frantically look for the phone, including Misty-- who is just trying to play her part.  The scream that Rosie lets out when Harry grabs onto her though, is something Misty can’t even ignore.  She bursts out laughing, earning a few shocked looks from her friends..

“Help!” Rosie screams. “It’s not fucking funny Misty!”

Misty immediately tries to compose herself, forcing her face into as serious an expression as she can muster. “Sorry,” she says, “It’s just--”

“Rosie if this is a prank, I swear,” Angie cuts Misty off and lunges towards Rosie, feeling the air around her.

“It’s not!” Rosie wails. “I don’t know how I’m doing this!’

Harry twirls away from Rosie and right into the arms of Angie, who gasps as she’s led clumsily, around the room. “Oh my god!’

“Oh my god!”  Misty repeats, trying her best to seem as shocked as everyone else.  “What the fuck is happening?”

“That’s good,” Harry says over his shoulder, “But I’m gonna need more feeling from you.”

Misty lets out a horrified shriek that puts Rosie’s own shriek to shame.  “We have to find the phone!” she cries.   “We have to turn this stupid song off!”

Harry frowns now. “Hey.  Tainted Love isn’t stupid.  Watch your mouth.’

Misty ignores him as she joins in on the frantic search for the phone that she knows damn well is deep in her pocket.    Every now and then she and Harry share a knowing glance, as he switches from partner to partner.

Misty stands in the furthest corner of the room, pretending to busy herself looking for the item, when suddenly Kennedy laughs.  Misty doesn’t even bother looking up, assuming simply that Harry has switched to her.  It’s when Rosie speaks that Misty’s attention is caught.

“Kennedy what are you laughing at?!” Rosie wails, tears in her eyes.

“It’s kind of funny!”  Kennedy says, taking a sip from her drink before setting it back down.  “Like, whoever is doing this-- a ghost or a demon or like, whatever-- has a sense of humor.  They know a good classic when they hear it.”

Harry, who’s currently spinning Luca into dizzy oblivion, grins.  “Kennedy’s got the spirit!”

“It’s not funny!” Rosie cries. “How can you laugh?!”

Kennedy shrugs, already beginning a bop of her own.  “I dunno, I think it’s  funny.  I don’t think whatever’s doing this is like, evil.”

“I don’t think it is either,” Misty chimes in, although she’s brushed off by everyone’s talking.  Some people try to stop whatever force is making them dance, others are too scared to go near the dancer for fear of being next. Kennedy, however, just continues to groove on her own.

Misty reaches discreetly into her pocket to turn the music up a bit more, and Harry laughs gleefully.  “Louder!” He calls to Misty, finally releasing his hold on Luca and scanning the room for his next victim.

As Misty watches him, cheerfully prancing around the room and trying to catch Linsdey-- who’s darting around the room like a chicken with her head cut off-- she tries her hardest to ignore the twitching of her heart.  There’s no way she likes him, absolutely not.  He’s dead, for fucks sake.  But he looks so full of life, so full of happiness, and she realizes that this is probably the most fun he’s had in years.

“Misty what are you doing?” Kennedy calls.  “You’re not even looking for the phone, come dance with me!’

“Yeah Misty, come dance!” Harry adds, shimmying his way up to Kennedy and taking her hand.  

Kennedy shrieks, but she isn’t scared.  She laughs immediately, as Harry pulls out his best dance moves for her.

“Someone is fucking with us,” Angie says, “They have to be.”

“Misty, why are you just standing there?” Greg asks.  “You’re not even trying to help us!”

“Because,” Misty replies, her brain running a million miles an hour to come up with an excuse.  She’s distracted by how much fun Harry’s having, beaming at his one willing participant as he twirls her around.  She smiles.  “Because I agree with Kennedy.  Whatever kind of spirit is doing this is obviously having fun.  I think we should let him--” Misty quickly realizes what she’s said and corrects herself “-- or it, whatever it is, just keep vibing with us.  This is probably the most fun it’s had in years.”

“You’re right,” Harry calls over his shoulder as he dips Kennedy,  “It is.”

“You’re a fucking freak,” Rosie sobs, practically throwing herself into Luca’s arms.

“Misty is the only person this spirit hasn’t fucked with!”  Lindsey points out.  “She has to be up to something!”

Harry makes a face.  “That’s a good point,” he muses.   He gives Kennedy one last twirl before disappearing completely out of Misty’s sight-- only to reappear right beside her seconds later.

“Care to dance, ma’am?”

Misty lets her guard down completely and laughs as Harry takes hold of her.  For a moment, she seems to forget all the eyes in the room.  She forgets that she is the only one who can see Harry.  Kennedy cheers her on as Harry moves her body-- far more dramatically than he’d moved anyone else’s.

“Miss Misty!” Harry says, making a face as if he’s beyond impressed with her moves.  “You can dance!” He dips her aggressively and she squeals, reaching up to hold onto him for stability.

Kennedy starts to jokingly dance around with the other sisters, but Misty hardly notices because she’s so distracted by the silly faces Harry’s pulling as he flings her around. He goes to dip her again, nearly bashing her head accidentally on a lamp. “Whoops,” he says through a giggle.

Misty laughs so hard she snorts, and Harry brings her upright again with the biggest smile on his face. “Never heard you laugh this hard before,” he muses, “it’s cute.”

Instantly, Misty’s cheeks grow hot, and her insides twist as hard as Harry’s spinning her.  As if sensing how flustered she is, Harry laughs, reaching down to pinch playfully at her side.

“I know it’s killing you,” he mumbles. “It’s kinda killing me, too.” Harry lifts Misty off the ground, spinning her around ungracefully and making her shriek  “Although I know if you could talk to me, you’d probably yell at me.  Or make some smartass remark.” Harry spins Misty out, then in, his face now unbearably close to hers.  He grins.  “So I am liking this a bit.”

Misty catches herself staring at Harry’s lips, and she subconsciously licks her own.  She wants to say something so bad, and she knows he’s teasing her because he can.  She hears Kennedy’s laughter mixed with another (maybe Angie’s?), and she sees the commotion occuring around her in the room, but it doesn’t feel real.  The only thing she can focus on is Harry, and his scent, and the icy feeling of his breath against her skin.  

Maybe everyone is too distracted, and she can lean in and kiss him.  Can she kiss a ghost?  Obviously she’s never tried before but he’s so close, he’s right in front of her… surely--

Misty’s thoughts are interrupted with the sudden sound of silence.  She turns quickly, completely broken from her trance with Harry, to see Luca holding the wireless speaker in his hand, one thumb on the power button, mouth wide open in fear.

After a few more beats, Luca speaks. “Does anyone still feel anything?”

Misty turns to find that Harry is gone, completely out of her sight, and she tries to ignore the sinking feeling in her stomach.

“It’s gone,” Rosie says. “I think it’s gone. No one is moving anymore.”

Misty scans the room, trying to find Harry somewhere blending into his surroundings, but much to her dismay she finds him nowhere.

Greg slaps Luca’s arm dramatically before taking a step into the middle of the room.  “Bro, what happened?”

“What the fuck was that?!”  Rosie’s mascara is running slightly down her face, but her voice is at a much lower and less panicked level than before.  “What the fuck just happened?”

“That was fucked,” Luca says, moving closer to Rosie.  “Like, fucked.”

Misty tries her hardest to play her part, trying to act as shocked as everyone else, but she can’t stop her hand from flying to the cold spot on her chin-- where she’d felt Harry’s own mouth brush. She can’t stop herself from thinking about his words, wondering how lovely it would’ve felt to kiss him.

“And Kennedy and Misty didn’t do shit to try and fix it!” Rosie cries, reaching up to wipe at her now completely wet eyes.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” Kennedy says,  “What should we have done?  Begged nicely for this invisible fucking force to leave us alone?  I’m sure it would’ve totally listened to us.”  She chuckles almost bitterly, reaching for her abandoned drink on the table.  “You guys don’t know how to have fun,” she finishes, punctuating her sentence by chugging the rest of her beverage, “And it shows.”

The evening is cut short and it passes by quickly and in a blur, with everyone checking around the room multiple times for whatever the source of the music was-- to no luck.   At some point, Misty discards the phone subtly onto the couch for Greg to find.  Everyone around the room discusses their perspective of what had occurred, and Misty tries her best to participate-- although she is mostly spoken over by a crying Rosie and an overly anxious Linsdey.  

It takes nearly an hour for Misty to find herself in her own room, after reassuring her nervous sisters that they would be fine sleeping in their rooms alone.  She’s tried her hardest to brush Harry’s words about her laugh off, to stop thinking about them, and about him in general but she can’t.  As she slips out of her clothes and into her pajamas, she finds herself thinking deeply about his smile.

Misty hears the most gentle knock on her door, pulling her from her thoughts.  She finishes pulling her pajama t-shirt over her head before calling out a soft, “Come in.”

Harry manifests himself in her room without even opening the door, and Misty jumps when she sees him in the corner by her dresser.  She rolls her eyes as she speaks.  “You didn’t even need to knock.”

“I didn’t want to interrupt,” Harry states, a smirk on his lips.  “I didn’t know if you were changing.”

“You’re fine,” Misty says, plopping onto her bed.  “I mean, I was changing, but like, you’re a ghost. You can walk through walls.”

“I am,” Harry says, “and I can.  But I’m still respectful.  What kind of a ghost do you take me for?”

Misty giggles, tossing a pillow at Harry.   He dodges it-- not that he needs to-- and he snorts.

“Anyway, I just came in to say goodnight,” he says, his smile still wide on his face.  “And to make sure I didn’t like… overstep tonight.”

Misty smiles back, ungracefully untucking the covers beneath her. “You didn’t overstep,” she says. “And anyway--” she doesn’t dare look at him as she continues her words,  “I liked it.”

“Did you?”  Harry seems completely unfazed, and Misty can hear the smirk on his face.  It’s infuriatingly sexy.

“I did,” Misty says, finally turning to face him.  She rolls her eyes when Harry is, of course, nowhere to be found, but she’s not even worried about it.  She knows he’s still here.  Her confidence grows in his absence.  “I liked it a lot.”

“Did you?”  He asks again, his voice lower and coming from behind her now.  He’s close enough that he sends shivers down her spine, which don’t go unnoticed by him. He laughs.  

She turns around to catch his smile as he sits directly behind her on her bed, close enough that she can feel the crisp chill of his skin.

“Yes,” she says quietly,  “I did.  Told you I did.”

Once again, Misty feels hypnotized by his beautiful face.  Harry knows this, and he hesitantly raises his hand to trail along her arm.  She shivers again.  Without meaning to, she leans into him.  His smile tells her she’s not alone in the way she’s feeling right now.

“That’s good to hear,” Harry says, voice barely above a whisper.  

Misty lifts her head, lips ghosting along the icy feel of his chin.  “Did you?” she breathes.

“Did I what, sunshine?”  Harry’s mouth seems to follow Misty’s own without kissing her, and it absolutely drives her crazy.

Misty gulps, gathering as much courage as she can muster.  “Did you like it?”

With a cheeky grin, Harry removes his hand from Misty’s arm-- much to her dismay.  She is knocked back to reality just as quickly as she’d left it, but his words make her insides flutter.  “I fucking loved it.”

Misty giggles nervously, deciding to change the subject.  “Everyone’s going to think I’m fucking crazy from here on out.”

Harry snorts.  “No they won’t.  They’ll forget.  They’ll continue to think it was a weird occurrence, but they’ll forget that you were one of the only ones who didn’t.”

Misty frowns, jokingly.  “So I’m forgettable then?’

Harry rolls his eyes, his smile deepening wider.  “Hardly.”

Now Misty beams, ignoring the twisting in her stomach. “In all seriousness,” she replies, “You’re right.  It was a weird night.  I doubt my quick compliance to you was very memorable to them.”

“I liked your compliance.”  

Harry says these words so softly that Misty has to look at him twice to make sure she’s even heard him correctly.  He’s no longer looking at her, but the smile on his face makes Misty’s insides go weak, and she notices her own breath hitching in her throat.

“I--” she begins, not knowing where to even begin with a response to him.  “I liked--”

“You don’t have to say anything about it,” Harry says. “You don’t have to say anything at all.”  He smiles sheepishly at her after a moment. “I just want to tell you that you were right.  That was the most fun I’ve had in years.  And I don’t know how to thank you.”

“You don’t have to!” Misty adjusts herself on the bed so she’s facing Harry more.  “I had so much fun.  You deserved it.  And honestly--”

Mist trails off, licking her lips and preparing herself for what she’s about to say,

“I liked being the only one who could see you.  And hear you.”  Her voice grows quieter. “I liked you… Telling me what to do.”

Harry’s smirk deepens as he leans closer into Misty once again.  His lips look so delicious, so inviting, Misty isn’t even sure what she’s looking at anymore.

Moments pass, with Harry and Misty both so close to one another that it’s overwhelming.  Misty wants to kiss him more than anything else in her entire life, but she’s scared, and she pretends she doesn’t notice the way he melts when she sighs against his skin.

“Harry,” she breathes slowly, “I don’t know if it’s possible… but I--”

Harry stands suddenly, catching Misty off guard.  “You should go to bed,” he says, quickly but sadly. “I’m so sorry,  I don’t mean to cut off the--”

“No you’re right,”  Misty says, suddenly feeling completely self-conscious.  She retracts into herself, crossing her arms along her lower body.  “You’re right.  I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for!”

“No, I know!” she lies.  “But I… you know, I mean, it’s weird!”

“It’s not weird,” Harry insists.  “Misty--”

“I have to go to bed,” she says, scrambling ungracefully to get under the covers. “It’s time.”

Harry looks at her for a few more moments before blowing all of his air out in a loud puff.  “It’s time,” he repeats.  He steps cautiously towards her, then softens himself as he reaches for her hand.

Misty eyes his movements, then smiles as she gently takes his hand in her own.  

There are a few more moments of charged silence, before Misty speaks

“Don’t end tonight on a weird note,” Misty jokes, smiling up at Harry.  “I had so much fun with you.”

Harry gives her hand a squeeze.  “I did too, sunshine.  Promise.”

“And you’ll come back tomorrow?’  Misty asks.  “And it won’t be weird?”

“Why would it be weird?”  Harry laughs, and Misty, once again, grows flustered.

“I don’t know!” she whines.  “I just feel weird!”

“Don’t feel weird,” Harry says, leaning forward.  He kisses her head without thinking about it, and he ignores the slight shiver of her body when he does so.  “Promise it’s not weird.’

She smiles up at him.  “I liked tonight,” she says, for what feels like the hundredth time.

“I did too,” Harry reassures her, fighting the urge to bring her hand to his lips so he can kiss it.  “So fucking much.”

Misty stares at him for just a tick too long, then smiles to herself-- clearly happy with their conversation.  She snuggles down under the covers and Harry, without hesitation, pulls them up further to tuck her in.

“You didn’t promise me you’d come tomorrow,” she says softly, her eyes fluttering closed.

Harry reaches across her and flicks off her lamp, allowing his eyes to focus in the darkness before speaking.  “Of course I’ll come tomorrow,” he says.  “I’ve come every other day, haven’t I?”

“I just hate the idea of waking up and you not being here, you know?”  Misty opens her eyes, blinking softly up at Harry.  ‘I want to have you while I still can.”

Something about Misty’s words breaks Harry’s heart, and he leans in impossibly closer to her.  ‘You may have me whenever you like, pretty girl.  I will be here whenever you call.”

“Promise?”

Harry can feel tears welling in his eyes and he absolutely hates it.  He tries desperately to blink them away.  “Promise.”

“Good.”  Misty settles herself further under the covers with a content sigh.

“Get some sleep,” Harry mumbles, reaching up to wipe at his eyes as subtly as he can.  God, he wishes he were human.  More than anything in the world, he wishes he could give Misty the love she deserves-- fully.

“Okay,” Misty sighs.  “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yeah.”  Harry nods.  “Tomorrow.”

Misty smiles.  “Goodnight.  Don’t watch me sleep, weird ass.”

Harry snorts at her words.  Of course she’d end the night on that note.  With a gentle “goodnight,”  He rises to his feet and takes a few steps away from her bed, just so that she can’t detect his presence by his scent. He makes himself invisible to her while still watching her for at least another full two minutes.

The way he’s truly starting to fall for this girl is completely alarming, especially considering their circumstances.  If he’d still had a beating heart, it would be breaking, and he hates the isolated yet heavy feeling in his chest as he watches her drift gently into unconsciousness.  He wants her, plain and simple.  

And as Misty’s thoughts turn into dreams, she can’t seem to get the ghostly boy out of her mind.   She wants him, just  as badly as he wants her.  It’s something she fears she’ll never tell him, for obvious reasons, but she still allows herself to indulge in the visions of them experiencing a somewhat normal relationship together as she drifts into sleep.

And as the moon rises over the old, creaky house, both Harry and Misty find themselves imagining, if only for the night, that they can love one another the way they know they were meant to.   Surely it won’t be enough to sustain their longing for one another.  But for tonight,  Harry knows that he’ll subtly pop into Misty’s dream.   And he knows Misty will never mention it to him, but it will sustain them both for the time being.  It will make them both happy.

And Misty’s happiness, Harry thinks, is the most important thing of all.

#Harry Styles #Harry #Harry Styles fanfiction #Harry fanfiction #fanfiction #Harry Styles AU #Harry AU #AU #Harry Styles fluff #Harry fluff #fluff

[artificialqueens]

Tree House Kisses, Chapter 44 (Adorney) - Scorpio and Veronica

A/N: We’re getting close to the end, guys. Only 2 more chapters after this. (Allegedly.) Click here for previous chapters here on AQ or here if you’d rather read on AO3. xoxo!

And thank you SO MUCH to wonderful betas: @saiphl, @sillylittlecandycane, and @tumble4rpdr

Chapter Summary: After a heartbreaking prom night, Courtney takes drastic action.

Chapter 44: I Can’t Love You

It was oddly comforting to be miserable with Violet. A reminder of their misspent youth, both of them pining after unattainable best friends, with all the guilt and angst that went along with that, but there for each other. They didn’t even have to explain why they were so upset--both of them just knew.

They’d been sitting in the vinyl booth at the diner for almost twenty minutes, in silence, before Adore ventured to ask what had happened.

“Same shit, different day,” Violet said, sipping her coffee and staring out the window. “She doesn’t like me that way. She never will. But she loves me.”

Adore had never heard that word--love--said so bitterly. Violet closed her eyes, letting out an exhausted sigh.

“If my self esteem was lower, I might start taking it personally.”

A small smile pulled at Adore’s mouth. “Good thing it’s not then, eh?”

“Yeah. It helps that I can reframe the whole mess as like, her character flaw for not seeing how amazing I am.”

Adore laughed. “Good for you.”

“What’s that Einstein quote? About insanity?”

“Bitch, do I look like I know Einstein quotes?” Adore asked, eyes rolling so hard her head hurt.

“No, come on, you’ve heard it. Insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. I guess I’m certifiable.” Violet stretched her neck and sighed again.

“Guess so. Me too.”

“What happened with you?”

“Just...you know, we danced together. And…” Adore shrugged.

Violet nodded. “Got it.”

“This year’s been so good,” Adore said, wistfully shredding a napkin. “I guess I thought it could last forever.”

“Can I ask you a really dumb question?” Violet asked.

“Sure.”

“We’re about to graduate. What...what do you have to lose at this point, by telling her? What’s the downside?”

“Tati asked me the same thing. And...I guess I just...I already know what she’ll say. Same thing as Fame. She loves me. She loves me so much. I’m her favorite person. But she still wants him,” Adore’s voice broke, head dropping, tears burning in her eyes. “And I just don’t think I can bear to hear her say it out loud. You know?”

Violet nodded. She knew. Of course she knew. Because she’d spent nearly four years reliving the exact same rejection that Adore was afraid of, over and over. But Adore wasn’t brave or fearless like Violet. She wouldn’t be able to take it. She knew herself well enough to know that.

“Have you ever...considered...that maybe it wouldn’t be like Fame? Maybe she feels the same way as you? I mean, I know I give her shit, and I still main that she deserves it and I don’t intend to stop-”

Adore couldn’t help but smile at that, watching Violet rile herself up.

“But…” Violet paused, taking a breath. “But...she does seem to think the sun shines out of your ass. So maybe...maybe she’d be like...open to something?”

Adore’s brow furrowed. She hadn’t considered it, actually. And for a brief, shining moment, she did. Imagined that maybe their story was different, before her fantasy was demolished by that awful memory of last year, when Courtney had been faced with that exact choice, and chose Roy. She shook her head.

“She wouldn’t.”

“Well…” Violet sighed. “That sucks.”

“Yep.”

“You know...I’m moving to New York.”

“Good for you,” Adore replied.

“No, I mean I’m not gonna be in a new place. I won’t have to see Fame, or smell her--I won’t even have to think about her anymore if I don’t want.”

“And?”

“And you’re doing the exact opposite,” she pointed out. “You’re planning to spend weeks in a car with her. And move in together, for fuck’s sake. You’re just asking for trouble.”

Adore sighed, nodding again. “I know.”

-

After the last dance, everyone gathered again to head out to the afterparty, and Courtney realized that Adore had never come back inside. Her stomach turned, realizing that maybe something really was wrong, wishing she’d followed her.

“Does anyone know where Adore is?” she asked, and Tati turned to her, biting her lip.

“Uhhhh…” Tati shifted uncomfortably, tucking her hair behind her ear and admitting. “She left.”

“She left? She just...left?”

“Yeah, I guess she wasn’t feeling that well.”

“Daaamn, bitches be dropping like flies tonight,” Willam commented, receiving a smack in the head from Trinity and turning around to retaliate, only to be faced with Pearl, who stepped forward to challenge him, chest to chest.

But Courtney couldn’t even laugh. All she could think about was Adore. She placed a hand on Tatianna’s arm, asking, “Did she say where she was going?”

Tati shook her head, brown eyes sad and apologetic. “No. I’m sorry.”

Courtney backed away, swallowing hard. When she looked at Roy, it was as if he already knew what she was going to say.

“I should find her.”

“Okay,” he nodded, giving her hand a squeeze.

“You won't be mad?”

“Uh...no. It’s your prom, right?” he asked, laughing uncomfortably. “Come to the limo with us, and the driver can take you wherever.”

“Thank you. And look, when I find her, I’ll bring her right back to the party.”

“Sure.”

As they made their way towards the exits, Trinity leaned over to Pearl and whispered, “Neither of them will be coming back, will they?”

Pearl shook her head. “Very doubtful.”

-

It was the first place she looked. Of course. Where else would she be?

Courtney climbed the ladder to the tree house, the awkwardness of doing it in a long skirt and heels not making her laugh like it normally would. Adore was lying in one of the bean bags, just staring up into space. She seemed completely unsurprised by Courtney’s presence.

“Are you okay? Why did you leave?”

There was a long pause, Adore unmoving, and Courtney wondered if she’d even heard the question. She swallowed, weighing whether she should ask again when Adore finally spoke up.

“I don’t think we should live together.”

“What?” The terrible, sick feeling that had crept into Courtney’s stomach earlier was back, worse than ever. “Why? Did I...did I do something wrong?”

Adore finally turned to face her, eyes red and swollen. She looked so defeated, so tired, and the sight made a golf ball-sized lump rise in Courtney’s throat.

“I just can’t-” Adore’s voice cracked, and she closed her eyes, tears slipping down her cheeks. “I can’t pretend with you anymore.”

“Pretend what? What do you mean?” Courtney’s own eyes stung, vision going blurry. What could Adore possibly be saying? Nothing about them was pretend for Courtney, their friendship was the realest thing in her life. It always had been.

“I can’t pretend that every day won’t be...fucking torture.”

“W-why?” Courtney’s skin was hot and scratchy, unfamiliar, like she’d suddenly found herself in the wrong body. This was a mistake, a dream...it had to be.

“You fucking know why!” Adore exploded, vibrating with rage, slamming her fists against the wooden floor of the tree house so hard, Courtney felt it in her bones.

The tears fell faster as Courtney shook her head, trying to breathe, chest heaving as she gasped for air. “I don’t-”

“You know, you have to know!” Adore shouted, looking angrier than Courtney had ever seen her.

“Please, Dory-” Courtney sobbed, reaching for her, but Adore slapped her hand away.

“Don’t touch me!”

“Adore-”

“You should get out of here,” Adore said, shrinking away, “Or I’m gonna say something that I can’t take back.”

“Then maybe you should say it,” Courtney cried. “Because I don’t...I don’t know what’s happening.”

“God fucking help me,” Adore muttered, more to herself than to Courtney, eyes trained towards the sky. She took a deep breath and then threw open the trap door.

“Please, Dory, d-don’t make me go. Please just tell me, whatever I d-did, I’ll fix. Anything I can do to make you...to make you not feel this way. I…”

“Fine. If you don’t want to go, then I’ll go.”

Adore’s voice was eerily calm as she reached for the ladder, ignoring Courtney’s continued wrenching sobs, begging her to stay.

-

Adore tried, but she couldn’t really sleep after that. Finally, she gave up and moved to her window, opening it so that she could smoke, the foggy early morning giving the air an unseasonal chill.

As terrible as she felt, she knew she’d done the right thing. Living together would be insanity; Adore already knew that, even if it had taken her months to admit it. It would be 1000 times worse than it was now, every day a total mindfuck.

It was past dawn when Courtney finally emerged, face forlorn and exhausted, hair a wreck. She probably hadn’t slept either. She looked up at Adore’s window, their eyes meeting for a brief second, just long enough to make Adore’s stomach twist with guilt before looking away. Even so, she could still see the way Courtney walked towards her house, heels in her hands, shoulders slumped in defeat.

-

ROY: Let me know when you find her.

ROY: If you need a ride anywhere.

ROY: Are you alright?

ROY: Good morning...is everything okay?

ROY: Did you find her?

ROY: I’m driving back this afternoon, do you wanna meet up for a little bit?

Roy wasn’t sure what to think at this point. He’d backed off last night, but now it was almost 11 am and she hadn’t answered any of his texts. He knew she was probably fine, maybe still sleeping, but it was slightly annoying that he had to even wonder about it. Finally, as he was tossing his duffel bag and backpack into the car, he got an answer.

COURTNEY: God, I’m so sorry. My phone died and then I fell asleep, just woke up. I’m sorry if I made you worry.

COURTNEY: Are you still here? Please come over if you can.

COURTNEY: I’m sorry

ROY: Omw

He found her still in bed, makeup and hair a bit of a mess, eyes tired and swollen. She’d clearly had a rough night. Seeing her looking so small and sad, he sighed internally, knowing that he would forgive her for making him worry.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Courtney nodded, reaching her arms out for him, tears shimmering in her eyes. She was very clearly not okay.

He walked to the bed, kicking off his shoes and sliding in beside her, taking her in his arms like he’d done so many times before.

“I’m sorry for leaving,” she whispered, eyes closed. “I shouldn’t have. Did you at least have an okay time?”

“It was alright. Willam adopted me as his date...so I’m gay now.” When even that didn’t get a laugh, he pulled her closer, sighing. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“No.” Her fingers clung to him, tears from her eyes wetting the front of his shirt.

“I don’t think I really understand what happened. I mean, did you guys have a fight?”

“No,” Courtney sniffled. “I don’t think so. I don’t actually know…She doesn’t want to live with me.”

Roy’s brow furrowed, trying to follow the confusing, tearful recounting of their conversation. He didn’t really understand what she was saying, and the more she tried to explain, the less coherent she got, tears falling faster, sobs wracking her chest. Finally, he gave up trying to understand and just held her, rocking her while she cried.

The tears were still wet on her cheeks when she began to kiss him, a hand moving to his fly.

“Court...are you sure this is what you want right now?”

“I’m sure,” she insisted. “Please…”

Roy felt a bit ashamed of himself for caving so easily, but it had been a long time, and he reasoned with himself that maybe it would make them both feel better. Maybe it would even repair some of the distance he’d been feeling with her lately.

He was wrong, of course--fucking her like this only made him sadder, and even a little gross, like he was taking advantage of her in a compromised state. Afterwards, he began to pull away and she clung to him, begging him not to go. It compounded his guilt, but also made him a bit resentful--she’d never acted this way any of the times they’d said goodbye all year, and now suddenly just because of a fight with Adore, she was a basket case?

“Listen,” he murmured, arms tight around her. “I’m gonna be back before you know it. My last final is next Tuesday, and I’ll drive back here the second it’s over.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.” He kissed her forehead, taking his time before finally untangling his arms from around her. He got dressed slowly, kissing her long and hard before leaving, promising once again to call her when he got back to his dorm.

-

On Monday, Adore still hadn’t spoken to Courtney. She knew it was harsh, but she didn’t know what to say. And besides, a clean break was probably needed in order for her to stand her ground. On the way to lunch, Violet grabbed her sleeve, making the welcome suggestion to go get lunch off campus. Adore jumped at the chance to avoid their group entirely, and even convinced Trinity to come with them too.

She knew that Courtney had been calling and texting, sending her AIM messages, but she couldn’t bring herself to read any of them. She simply retreated, ditching many of their shared classes and avoiding eye contact whenever they found themselves in the same room.

After a few days, Courtney seemed to finally get the hint, and she stopped pushing. Their lunch group was fractured, she and Violet going off on their own most of the time, taking Trinity and sometimes Tati along with them, and Adore felt responsible for it, but she didn’t know what else to do.

“Hey, where the fuck have you been all week?” Willam finally asked on Thursday, and Adore could only respond with a sad shake of the head, a defeated shrug.

“This is a real shitty way to end the year,” he continued.

“Yeah, well...high school is shitty, what can I say?”

Willam sighed.

“Yeah, maybe, but at least for most of it, we had each other,” he told her. “Now, what? You’re just never gonna talk to us again?”

“You know it’s not you who I’m not talking to,” Adore said.

“Yeah, and she’s fucking miserable. Is that what you want?”

“Of course not!” Adore exclaimed, turning on him angrily.

“Then just like...suck it up, man.” Willam’s puppy eyes betrayed his cynical tone. “‘Cause I miss your stupid face.”

“I’m sorry,” was all Adore had to offer, too tired for anything else.

“I know.”

-

It could be worse, Courtney kept telling herself. It could be like last year, the silence lasting over six months. She could handle a few days.

But then, a few days turned into a week, and bled into a second week, and Courtney could feel herself fraying at the seams, desperately trying to hold it together.

She was sitting in the backyard when Roy arrived, finally done with his first year of college, back in time for her graduation in a few days, and a summer job at his uncle’s hardware store. As much as she wanted to, she couldn’t muster any enthusiasm as he asked about the plans for that week’s graduation celebrations or when her family would be arriving.

“Our moms were planning a joint party thing, but...I don’t know how that’s even gonna work,” she said, eyes drifting towards Adore’s house, lower lip pulled between her teeth.

“Would it help if I gave you your graduation present now?” he asked.

“You didn’t have to get me a present,” Courtney said, stomach twisting with guilt.

“Ha! Since when?” he retorted, and all Courtney could do was sigh as he pulled it out, a small box carefully wrapped in silver paper.

She took her time opening it, doing it the adult way without ripping into the paper like she normally did, slowly opening the box to reveal an antique brass locket. She ran her finger over the engraved roses, looking up at him to say, “It’s beautiful. Thank you.”

Roy accepted her kiss on the cheek, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “I figure our kids’ pictures can go in there some day,” he said.

“Roy…”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” he said, giving her a charming, dimpled grin. “And anyway, who even knows if we can have kids? I mean we’ve had enough condom accidents that maybe there should be one already.”

Courtney rolled her eyes, unamused by this whole bit, but he kept at it, clearly trying to make her laugh.

“You haven’t had any secret abortions, have you? Cause I know, women’s rights and all that, but I’d like to have at least been consulted.”

Courtney shook her head, finally resigned to play along, and said, “I’ve had five.”

“Five?! You’re telling me we could have had a whole basketball team by now?”

“You really think our combined genes could produce a basketball player?” Courtney asked drily.

“I didn’t say they’d be a winning team,” Roy responded, holding up his hands.

Courtney finally laughed, shaking her head at the utter silliness of it all. The truth was, even though she knew that Roy was joking, she also knew there was a grain of truth in what he was saying--he did see that in their future. Babies, marriage, all of the things she was supposed to want. And the realization, now more than ever, only served to exacerbate the chasm between them. Her chuckles died down faster than they’d begun, tears pricking her eyes, wishing that things were different. He deserved so much better than her, so much more than what she could offer him. As much as she loved him, part of her knew that she’d never be able to give him her whole heart.

He could see her mood shifting again, and moved closer, kissing her temple and taking her hand, only making everything harder.

“You know...if you wanna talk about it, we can.”

“I don’t think I do,” Courtney whispered.

“Okay.”

“I mean, I do...but you’re not gonna like what I have to say.” She brushed some tears away with the back of her hand, dreading the long overdue conversation that she was about to begin, unsure where she should even start.

He sat back, listening, and she swallowed hard.

“I feel like I’m losing her. Again. And it makes me…” Courtney gulped. Was she really going to say this out loud? “It makes me realize how much I love her. That I can’t...I can’t do any of this without her. I need her. I want...I want her.”

“Alright...and?”

“What do you mean ‘and’?”

“Well…” Roy shrugged, looking slightly defensive, before saying, “You really think I don’t already know all this? I have always accepted you. I have always loved you anyway. She doesn’t. She is willing to toss you aside because you’re not giving her exactly what she wants. She’s done it before. And she’ll do it again.”

He wasn’t wrong. Adore hadn’t made her any promises. If anything, she’d shown over and over that she didn’t want the same thing that Courtney did. There’d been so many times over the years when Courtney had felt like they were on the verge of something, and every time, it ended with Adore pushing her away, rejecting even the thought of something more between them. But that didn’t matter anymore. Courtney could no longer live with the unspoken truths. She had to be honest--with Roy, with Adore, but most importantly with herself.

“That all might be true, but-”

“It is true! She’s gonna make you miserable. But you don’t care, do you? You’d rather be miserable with her than happy with me, right?”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Yes it is,” Roy insisted, and Courtney’s breath hitched, wishing with all her heart that he was right.

How much easier would her life be if she didn’t have this constant inner turmoil, these conflicting desires that never let her have any peace? But she’d tried for so long to fight it and there was no use anymore.

“I still love you. I just...I can’t be what you want me to be.”

“That’s fucking bullshit. I’ve never asked you to be something other than what you are,” Roy said. His voice was low and emotional, but Courtney could see the anger bubbling up below the surface.

“You’re right.”

“I know I’m fucking right! But you don’t care, do you? You just want her.”

Courtney’s lip trembled, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks, admitting, “Yeah.”

At this, Roy pulled away, glaring at her with the most contempt she’d ever seen on his face, making her heart break. He got up, anger radiating off him, and she couldn’t say anything, because ultimately, she knew that she deserved it: all the anger, all the disgust. She’d brought it upon herself.

As he walked away, she felt like she was collapsing from the inside, fingers gripping the arms of the chair, unmoored in a way that she hadn’t been for years. Part of her wanted desperately to call out to him, to take it all back, but she knew she couldn’t do that. She didn’t have any right to his love, his friendship, the comfort and security he’d so generously given her.

For the first time in years, she was really and truly alone, and it was fucking terrifying.

#rpdr fanfiction #tree house kisses #scorpio #veronica #adorney #adore delano #courtney act #violet chachki #bianca del rio #tatianna #willam belli #bitney #famelet #lesbian au #high school au #m/f au #implied smut #angst #lots of angst #and then more angst

[4non-moms]

I’ve been trying to figure out where I fit in with our 4 Non-Moms.  I’m a bit of the odd duck.  Not that I mind that.  I like being an odd duck.  And the other Dink’s appreciate my odd duckiness.  Which caused me to think about friendships.  Which made me think about patterns.  Which brought me to astrological signs.  Which made me think...what if I wrote about each of the Dink’s astrological signs?  And showed why I valued their friendship so much? If you know anything about the sun signs, you may have guessed based on the above that I am an Aquarius...twenty different ideas, train of thought all over the place, odd duck, friendships. I have noticed that my deepest, lasting friendships are those with certain astrological signs and the Dinks are no exception.  So, here is my totally unscientific version of how each of the Dinks display their sun sign’s characteristics and why it makes me love them. (Quick shout out to my Capricorn, Leo, and Scorpio friends -- you know who you are!)

Dink 1 is is the ultimate “It” girl. Not surprising for  typical Sagittarius.  Fun, adventurous, gregarious and - if you are lucky enough to get in her inner circle- a dedicated, generous, and loyal friend.  Her favorite saying to me is just try it, “For shits and giggle.”  As an Aquarius (big ideas, but no follow through, likely to be stubbornly set in my way of thinking), it’s something I need to hear.   

Enter Dink 1 - the ultimate Sag.  She doesn’t allow me to question, contemplate, or just spend too much time dwelling or about whether or not  I should buy, experiment, or begin something new.  Dink 1 is all about action-- no wasting time with this one. She just tells me to do it.   Not in the most tactful way (she is a Sag after all).  But I like the brutal honesty.  Maybe it is because she understands truth on a deeper level as only a Sagittarius can do.   She gets what  each person she cares about needs to hear so they can make themself better.  And she is always right.   Always right!  Dink 1 will cheerfully yank you out of your comfort zone because she instinctively realizes what is right for you and that now (not tomorrow, next week, or this summer) is the time to act.  But have no fear,  she will enthusiastically support you every single step of whatever crazy, absurd way you’re going because she knows you’ll be better for it in the long run.

An Aquarius is basically an unlit firework -- full of potential and ready to color up the night.  But unless it is lit, it just lays there.  Dink 1 is the fire that can send up a thousand fireworks.  She delights in seeing the ones she loves light up the night sky.  And she deserves all the credit for helping to make it a glittery wonder.

Every Aquarius should be lucky enough have a Sag like Dink 1 in their life.  She teaches you how to live more passionately by encouraging you to be your dreams.  

I have always loved Libras!  What a great sign...they are natural conversationalists, initiate and love a good party, and are more selfless they they will ever admit.   Dink 3 is a true Libra.  This sign of Venus tends to represent all things beautiful and even when she is falling down drunk or throwing her hair up in a claw clip with three day old make-up, she is still gorgeous and makes it look purposeful   Without a doubt, she is the most creative and imaginative of the Non-Moms.  She can take anything  and turn it to a work of art from a plain canvas bag to a dull wall.  And Dink 3 will convince you that you can do it too.    She’ll deny this ability (most Libras are self-deprecating), but it’s true.

Both Libra and Aquarius are air signs and this may have a bit to do with why I feel connected with them. Dink 3 just understands me.  That Aquarius thing makes it hard for me to express my feelings.  I can’t explain it, stumble over my words, or scream out an incoherent phrase.  But this Libra understands.  Dink 3 gets what I’m trying to say even if I actually didn’t use words.  Then, she stores it in her memory vault so that she can remember to be sensitive about it. What is even more inspiring with Dink 3 is regardless of how much she needs balance and harmony in her life (Libras do), she is willing to sacrifice her own to make sure those around her have it or at the very least are at ease and confident.   She’s done it for all of us especially as we have gone through the process of getting our 4 Non-Moms started.  Our equilibrium is more important than her own.

The Libra and Aquarius bond is a strong because the Libra works at making it one.  Dink 3 knows how to hone in on what you need at that moment (a belly laugh, a kind ear, revenge plan, meats and cheeses) and gives it to you wholeheartedly and cheerfully.   What more could anyone ask for in a friend then the true definition of one as she is.

Dink 4 will immediately tell you that the best qualities of a Virgo are not the ones she possesses.  But that is mostly due to the humble nature of a Virgo.   When you speak with Dink 4, you immediately can see that this is a woman who is not only incredibly intelligent, but is a wordsmith and has a sharp wit to boot.  And it is done effortlessly.  God, I admire that!  With a slight tilt of her head and a moment to think she can break down an issue or topic in a firm, thoughtful manner.  If it is a sensitive issue, this earth sign, who needs to help those around them, will be honest, but understanding. She will listen to your side, and then gently explain what is the correct way to view or approach the matter.  I end up pondering why this never occurred to me and enjoy that she actually made me contemplate even more (Aquarians love to contemplate). I always feel  the amount of time with her to chat and discuss  books, relationships, the world, etc.  is never enough since we are always flitting from subject to subject and she is a mini expert in all.  

Dink 4 is the ultimate problem solver.  Need to go on a police ride along?  Roller skate in an abandoned mall?  Our Virgo will analyze, find, and follow the steps needed and Voila! It’s done.  No one can combine the fanciful with practicality as much Dink 4.  No matter how wild something sounds, if it is what she or the other Dinks want to do, she makes it happen.   She shows this Aquarius how to get anything accomplished and makes it crazy fun doing it.  

Most would think our signs are too opposing to have a deep friendship.  But how could I not appreciate and want to around someone who naturally has a keen intellect and an innate helpfulness?  On top of that, Dink 4 marries whimsy with reality making time with her magical.  And that is something I never want to miss out on.    

Yeah, I am lucky to have encountered these women.  Even luckier that they allow me on for the ride .  They each make me better regardless of their signs!  My only hope is I can give to them half of what they have given to me.

#DINKS Astrololgy sunsigns saggitarius aquarius libra virgo

[muselin]

Fixation

Scorpio/MC Rating: E (xplicit) Prompt by: @dopeassjaqjack "A story where a god becomes infatuated with the MC and begins to stalk her and watch her for months. Can be smutty and the ending can be a surprise". If it "can" be smutty, in my dictionary it means that it "will" be so. 😈

#####

Another filthy human. Another wretched creature. Too bad she was so pretty. I was in a shitty mood today and I was doling out punishments without giving a flying fuck. Humans disgusted me. Liars, cheaters, thieves and murderers. Sinners. I sneered at the concept. A vague memory of my human life flashed in my mind.

“You shalt not covet”.

“Tch.. Not covet, but murder is somehow fucking fine, in certain circumstances”, I mumbled to myself. I stood over the reflecting pool watching another lowly thief give over to sin. The thief I was watching was a beautiful young woman. Too bad she was as wretched as all the rest of ‘em.

I watched her stand nervously in that store. It seemed to be a store that sold binoculars and telescopes. I watched her hands tremble as she was about to switch the price tags of an expensive sophisticated model and a hobbyists’ beginner one. She looked around, making sure no one would see her. Ironic, since we gods saw everything. I watched her switch the tags then walk up to the register. The cashier was extremely bored-looking and didn’t notice the switched price at all. It was a blameless crime, really, but it was a crime nonetheless. Not theft but deception. And I fucking hated liars.

I watched her walk out with the telescope in the box and get on the subway. As the train moved, I decided in my head what punishment I should give her. I planned to have the store she stole from review security footage and contact the police. She would take the telescope home, believing she’d gotten away with it, only to get home to be arrested. I waited for the right time so that I’d get the police at her house just as she arrived.

I waited with my hand raised, ready to snap my fingers as I watched her get off the train. But suddenly she dropped the box and raced towards the other end of the platform. The telescope parts spilled out of it, the lens rolling out and smashing to pieces. I was puzzled. I followed her gaze to a man standing on the edge of the platform. He was bent forward, his body shaking. There was a passing train coming from that direction and it was not going to stop at that station. I soon grasped that the man planned to jump and end his life as the train crushed him, but as fate had it, my plans today were not the only ones about to be derailed.

She ran desperately, shouting as tears glistened in her eyes and spilled out. She threw herself towards the man, grabbing him by the elbows and throwing herself backwards, taking the man down with her and away from the edge. The train howled past, leaving bystanders aghast and I, too, stood frozen in the Heavens above, with my hand still raised as if to snap my fingers. As she frantically talked to the man the station crew were making their way towards her. They led the man away, talking to him gently, while she was led in a different direction where she was thanked. Yet all she asked was whether the man was alright. She stayed at the station a little while longer while she gave a statement to the police there, after which she went on her way home.

The telescope lay in pieces, forgotten on the platform. I finally lowered my hand.

Her face, beautiful, tear-streaked and desperate all at once, was burned into my mind. I knew her name and I knew that she had never been on our lists before. She wasn’t a sinner. She wasn’t even a proper thief. It had been a long time, far too long since I’d been surprised like that by a human. In my days as a Punishment god I hadn’t witnessed such a selfless act of humanity. Shedding tears for the life of a stranger, risking her own life to save his, and all on instinct, no regard for herself… It didn’t feel right to punish her. It didn’t feel right to just leave her be, either. I looked at the reflecting pool again and saw that the crowd was still disoriented and preoccupied with the incident. I quietly snapped my fingers, teleporting myself from the heavens onto the scene. I emerged from the public bathrooms and inconspicuously made my way to the platform. I snapped my fingers again and the telescope was put back together in its box.

Making sure no one was watching, I snapped my fingers a third time and teleported myself away from the station to an alley on the street where she lived. I waited for her there in the shadows. I could have teleported the box into her apartment but I wanted to see her in person, just a glimpse of her. I don’t know why but I needed to see her.

Soon she emerged from around the corner. I watched her as she walked, her dress hugging one leg and then the other. Everything about her was beautiful. Her eyes, her hair as it swished in the breeze behind her, her hands, still clutched to her chest. I was lost in her as she passed by the alley, not noticing me watching her from the shadows. I couldn’t help myself. I followed her quietly, box in my hands as she entered her apartment building. I waited for her to disappear behind her front door and then I dropped the box in front of her apartment. I knocked once and prepared to snap my fingers, wanting nothing more than to just leave her some small gesture of kindness. What I didn’t expect was for the door to fly open immediately and that same captivating pair of bright eyes to meet mine.

***

I was leaning against my door, finally catching my breath after the day I’d just had. My thoughts were filled with guilt after what I’d done earlier, practically stealing that telescope, but even more full of worry over the poor man at the station. They’d given me the details of the hospital where he’d agreed to go and I was already making plans in my head for when to visit him and make sure he was doing better. A single knock on the door snapped my cluttered mind to reality and I rushed to open the door. I was met with a man who was the definition of tall, dark and handsome. Only he had a mildly shocked expression on his gorgeous face.

“S-sorry, what can I do for you,” I offered timidly. Then I noticed he held the box with the same telescope I’d stolen earlier.

“I… uh… you forgot this and I thought…” The man’s smooth, deep voice wavered as he set the box down.

“Oh goodness, I had completely forgotten about this! Thank you so much for bringing it here,” I bowed hurriedly in gratitude. “How did you know where I live though?”

Seemingly having regained his composure but now looking at the floor, the man spoke so quietly I barely heard him.

“I just know.”

“Oh…well, thank you, regardless,” I said as I opened the box. “Oh thank god that it didn’t break! Seriously, Sir, how can I repay you for this?”

I reached out and touched the man’s shoulder in gratitude. He inhaled sharply as I did and his dark eyes snapped up to meet mine. I only now noticed how weirdly he was dressed. He seemed to be wearing some kind of white military uniform with black boots and black gloves. He reached out and took my hand between his two warm, gloved ones.

“There’s no need. Forget we ever met,” his eyes pierced me as his expression became hard. He quickly let go of my hand and walked off down the corridor between apartments. I thought I heard something that sounded like someone snapping their fingers.

“What? No, wait! Sir!” I shouted after him but he was already gone. I was suddenly standing at my opened door with the telescope box in front of me. Why had I been shouting? I shook my head, chalking it up to the stresses of the day, and I brought the telescope inside.

I still felt guilty about switching the prices but I just couldn’t help myself. I had a job interview at the biggest planetarium in the country tomorrow and I had a presentation on this month’s transiting planets to prepare. My old telescope had broken the week before and I just couldn’t find replacement good enough to use for the presentation at such short notice. Money had been really tight and I just couldn’t have afforded it.

Later that night, I sat at my tiny balcony and finished the presentation with the help of the new telescope. When I was done I sat back, looking at the sky hopefully as my thoughts were full of anticipation for the interview tomorrow. I chuckled as I thought that maybe I should wish on the stars for good luck. I clasped my hands together and made my wish. I was still nervous about tomorrow but somehow it was less now and I looked forward to it.

***

She’d become an obsession.

Every minute that I wasn’t doing my job I was spending watching her. I watched her as she started working at the planetarium. I watched her learn and start to do well. I watched her try hard, and soon came the time for her to lead her first screening.

Before I met her, I didn’t know anything about this strange human invention that allowed them to view the planets and stars during day time but I’d watched her for so long that I now knew everything about it.

I skipped work for an hour that day. I teleported to the planetarium after the lights went dark and the screening began and I watched from the back of the hall just so I could be closer to her. I watched her as she bravely tried to conceal her nervousness and I watched the lights come back on at the end as people clapped.

She was human but she'd become a goddess to me. The epitome of warmth, kindness, grace - everything I wanted that I didn't have. A few weeks later, I saw that she was making plans to celebrate her first month at her new job with her new friends from work. I knew where they were going to go. A club. I knew it would be dark and hazy, with the music too loud to hear well and with so much booze that no sober observations would be made that night.

I shouldn't have, but I couldn't resist. I went to that club on Earth that night, dressed in Earth clothes. I mingled with the abominable crowd just because I knew I could watch her all evening, uninterrupted. Except... I should have known I couldn't trust myself to just stand and watch.

***

I was tipsy already, dancing happily with my new co-workers. I was watching myself because I didn't want to get too drunk but I had a pleasant buzz going, just enough to make my smile that bit wider and my cheeks that little bit pinker.

I was grateful for everything I had in my life. There was only one thing missing but I tried not to to think about it. I didn't have a boyfriend but there were plenty of handsome strangers out tonight and sometimes that was enough.

Hiyori was trying to scout some out for me all night but I laughed her off. Until I spotted someone at the bar, holding a lonely glass of spiced cider. I had the most bizarre feeling that I'd seen him before. I blushed when he caught me staring at him. His black hair fell over one eye and his face seemed... intimidating.

I shook it off, going back to Hiyori and the others who had started moving to the second level of the club where the music was more deep bass and lounge and less cheesy pop.

"Thanks for bringing me out tonight, Hiyori, this is a great place," I shouted over the music.

"Any time, I'm glad you're having fun," she smiled brightly at me.

"Yeah, the music is -- Oh, I'm so sorry, Sir, I..." I'd accidentally stepped on someone's foot and I turned around to apologise to them, freezing in place as I was met with an intense gaze. It belonged to a tall, handsome stranger with black hair which fell over his right eye.

"You... Sorry, don't I know you from somewhere..." My voice caught in my throat but I soon had other things to worry about as the stranger took my hand in his, as if asking me to dance in an old-fashioned way.

"You don't. Can I dance with you?" His deep voice sent a shiver down my spine as he leaned over to talk in my ear. Blunt, but I could forgive him. I nodded, and tried my best to relax into the music. He danced lightly with me to the simple rhythm but his dark eyes were intense, burning into mine.

"What's your name," I leaned in to ask. He got to the side of me and leaned back over my ear, his lips grazing the shell.

"Scorpio."

Unusual. Was it a nickname? I could feel my thoughts dissipate into nothing under that intense gaze. It was hot and loud and hazy, but all I saw was Scorpio. Whenever he leaned in I could smell something so enticing about him, alluring and dark and almost otherworldly.

My head was swimming more than usual. I'd long since lost sight of Hiyori and the others but I couldn't bring myself to care. Scorpio's hands had crept down to my hips, our bodies practically pressed together, but he didn't go any further. He seemed to be waiting on me. I didn't think. I just tilted my head up and brought my forehead to his. His hands tightened around me but remained gentle.

"Your friends are gone," he said bluntly to me. "It's okay. I should go...," I slurred a bit. It was probably a good idea to leave now, my tiny remaining sense of rationality suggested.

"I'll walk you to your place," Scorpio said simply, his voice not tolerating objection. As if he somehow knew that I lived within walking distance to the club. I nodded.

We slipped out of the club. The quiet of the night made me feel as if my ears were stuffed with cotton. Scorpio's hand was on my shoulder, keeping me steady. My body was doing strange things in response to his warmth. In the back of my mind, I knew what I was doing and I was giddy like a schoolgirl with her first boyfriend. We walked in silence but it wasn't awkward. It was comfortable. No questions, no expectations. We got to my building and he walked me up the stairs to my door.

"Thank you for walking me back, Scorpio. Would you like to--" I never got to finish that sentence.

Scorpio answered it for me as he suddenly captured my lips with his, pressing me against the front door. It was so late, no one was around and all I could hear were his shallow breaths and the buzzing of the fluorescent lights in the corridors. His lips were insistent, domineering. They parted mine and his tongue slipped into my mouth, teasing mine. I moaned quietly at the sensation. His hands were on me, gripping my waist, sliding down to my hips. His fingers slid into my purse and fished out my keys, as if he knew exactly where to find them.

I was so lost in him, lost in those soft lips setting me on fire. I fumbled with the keys as he held them, grabbing hold of the right one, and he took them from me, unlocking the door for me.

Scorpio backed me into my own apartment, his lips never leaving mine. I kicked the door closed behind us.

"You're so beautiful. I've waited a long time for this," he said, his voice low and heavy as he leaned down to kiss beneath my ear and down my neck.

He continued blindly walking forward, pushing me in front of him until we ended up in my kitchen and the backs of my bare thighs hit my dining table. He nudged me back again, making me sit up on it. The short black dress I wore was riding my legs but he was between them already anyway and my mind was swirling just enough for me not to care.

I tugged on his shirt, my hands struggling with the buttons. He smirked at me and he was so utterly breathtaking just then, bangs falling over his face as his toned chest was peeking out from his grey shirt. "Impatient, huh? I know exactly what you're thinking, woman. Don't worry, I'll give you what you need," he said teasingly. It made me laugh and I stopped undoing the buttons for a second.

"Oh, so you can read my mind then?"

"Something like that," he said as he undid the rest of the buttons himself and threw the shirt somewhere behind him, then roughly grabbed the material of my dress and pulled it over my head, leaving me in my bra and panties.

I gasped before I could stop myself as my skin was chilled from the air. Scorpio's eyes raked down my body and I would have felt the heat in my cheeks had he not glued his lips back to mine hungrily.

His hands were everywhere. On my hips, my waist, my shoulders, his fingers were so warm they eased the chill on my skin. He moved to nibble down my jaw and then my neck, biting down just hard enough for me to feel pain but not enough for me to stop enjoying it. He fumbled with the clasp on my bra but gave up almost immediately and in one rough motion ripped the bra off me over my head.

A shiver of a different kind crawled up my back and the haze lifted from my mind. Suddenly I was afraid. I craved this stranger so much but pieces started coming into place. He knew where I lived, I'd seen him before, he didn't even ask my name...

"Have you been following me," I asked, my voice a hoarse whisper as his hands palmed my breasts, finding my nipples and twisting them between his fingers. His lips left my neck long enough for him to lift his head and look at me. The confident, intimidating look was gone and was replaced with something that looked more like desperation and longing. I was caught up in the beauty of those eyes and suddenly the question didn't matter anymore.

Scorpio hooked his fingers in my underwear and pulled them down my legs roughly, leaving his place between my legs just long enough to get them off. I was suddenly very aware that I was now fully naked in front of him and I closed my legs, trying to shield myself from view. Scorpio's eyes shone with something softer then. His hands trailed gently down my shoulders, his touch feather-light and raising goosebumps wherever it went.

"Hey. Look at me," he ordered. I peered up at him. "If you don't wanna, we can stop," he said quietly. I shook my head and reached for his lips. I didn't want to stop.

He was gentler this time, his tongue caressing mine slowly, teasingly. Desire flared hot inside me again. I pressed myself against him, our naked skin making contact and growing hotter. I wrapped my arms around Scorpio's neck and his hands moved to my ass as he lifted me off the table. I kept grip on him with my legs as he carried me into my bedroom.

He let me down in front of my bed and I sat down, reaching to undo his black jeans as he stood between my parted legs again. I didn't hesitate anymore. I pulled his jeans down along with his underwear and I was met with his hard, hot erection. I trailed my hands up his thighs and I couldn't help noticing him hold his breath.

His hands caressed my face then wound themselves in my hair. He looked down at me, his eyes filled with lust. His body was like a statue and I could practically feel my mouth water as I looked up at him.

I licked him from base to tip and heard him suck in a breath harshly. I wet his hard cock with my tongue and slowly started taking him between my lips. Scorpio's hands tightened in my hair and he roughly pushed himself deeper into my mouth.

"Uunngh..."

Hearing him moan dialed up the lust I felt about ten notches and I abandoned any hesitation as I started pleasuring him in earnest. I made sure to drag my tongue across his tip as I moved my lips over him, sucking on his cock hard.

"Mmm... Fuck.. you feel too good," he hissed and suddenly pulled me off of him. He stepped out of his jeans and pushed me backwards on the bed, crawling over me and covering my body with his. His hand found my breast and he cupped it as he toyed with my nipple.

He leaned over me and took my other nipple into his mouth, flicking his tongue over it then taking into his mouth and sucking hard.

"Ahh... Scorpio..."

He switched his attention to my other nipple and took it between his teeth, biting gently. I couldn't keep from arching under him, my hips bucking into his and I felt his hard cock brush against my pussy. Scorpio kept sucking on my nipple as he trailed one hand down my ribs, then my side and finally stopping just before my most sensitive place. He slid his fingers over my pussy slowly, so maddeningly slow that I whined in protest. He only chuckled darkly and continued his slow exploration. He slid one finger between my lips and felt that I was already slick there. He teased my entrance, rubbing against it with the the tip ot his finger.

"Mmm... Please..." I bit my lips. I needed him to touch me so bad, I writhed under him seeking to feel more.

Instead, Scorpio shifted his body lower and settled with his face between my legs. The tip of his finger was replaced by the tip of his tongue and he teased me mercilessly. He licked slowly between my wet lips to my clit, flicking his tongue against it as he brought his finger back to my dripping entrance.

He took my clit between his lips and sucked just as his finger finally entered me. My body arched off the bed and I nearly screamed. He grabbed a handful of my ass with his other hand as he fingered me, adding a second digit to the first. He pumped his fingers in and out slowly as he licked and sucked and kissed my clit and it was all I could do not to scream and wake my neighbours at this late hour.

The pleasure seeped throughout my body and my skin grew hotter, my barely restrained moans filling the room. Scorpio grunted and just increased the pressure on my clit. My head had started swimming again and my body writhed under his. The moonlight coming through the window reflected off his muscled back, making his skin almost seem to glow. In the dark, every sensation felt magnified and I shut my eyes again. As if sensing that I was getting close, his lips left me and he pulled his fingers out of me. I whimpered at the loss of stimulation but I didn't have long to complain. He kissed me hungrily, making me taste myself on his lips, then turned my body over with rough motions. He pressed me flat down on the bed on my front and spread my legs, hooking his hand under my right knee and bringing my leg up. I arched my back, feeling exposed.

Scorpio leaned over me, his heated skin sliding over mine. He trailed a hand along my throat, tilting my chin to the side to capture my lips with his as I felt his hardness press between my legs.

"Oh my god, Scorpio..." I murmured against his lips as his cock rubbed against my wet center.

"Tch, so impatient." He smirked against my lips as he reached down and aligned himself with my core.

"Ready?"

Before I could answer, he pushed into me and I could only gasp as his thick cock stretched me. Inch by inch, he buried himself inside me.

"Fuck..." His whispered swearing only aroused me more and I strained against him, trying to impale myself on him. He thrust hard into me, filling me to the brim and I screamed as I felt his tip brush the back of my pussy. He pulled almost all the way out before he thrust back in hard, over and over. My room was filled with the sound of harsh breaths and moans and the lewd noises of him fucking me.

"Mmm... Does it feel good, huh? Do you like me fuckin' you like this?" His lustful words in my ear made me arch into him.

"Yes.. Oh god... Yes, don't stop," I whimpered as he sped up his thrusts and reached around under me to rub my clit. The pleasure coursed through all of me and I squeezed my walls around Scorpio's cock. My whole body was wound so tight I felt like I could explode any moment.

"Mm.. God I can't .. I need.." My words were jumbled and my breaths were coming in so erratically I thought I could pass out. Scorpio only rammed into me harder, cursing under his breath as I tightened around him.

"Fuck, you feel so good... Mmn.." He sped up his fingers on my clit and I couldn't hold back. My body arched impossibly under him and I felt as if I was going crazy. The pleasure overwhelmed me and I screamed, a raw edge finding it's way into my voice.

Scorpio rutted against me as my walls clenched around his cock and he grunted and cursed. He snapped his hips into mine one last time before I felt him start to pulsate inside me.

He bit down on the junction between my neck and shoulder as his orgasm washed over him. He shuddered as he filled me, it seemed to take forever before the spasms stopped and he stilled inside me. The sounds of our breaths were the only noise in my dark room.

He slipped out of me and I watched him dress silently. In the afterglow I couldn't think of anything to say. Can I have your number? Do you live around here? Somehow they all sounded like such stupid questions.

His expression was dark and intimidating again, but a bit of warmth crept back in his eyes as he leaned over me and caressed my cheek. He kissed my lips softly and then he left quietly.

I lay alone in the dark but I had a feeling. Somehow I knew I would see him again.

#star crossed myth #scm #scm smut #scm fanfiction #scm fanfic #scm scorpio #scm gods

[sweetdreamsjeff]

Knowing Not Knowing

"Early in the spring of 1997, singer and songwriter Jeff Buckley headed down to Memphis to begin pre-production on what would have been his second full-length album. A few weeks after Buckley arrived, his bandmates flew in from New York to join him. He was in high spirits: the songwriting was going well, and he was reunited with his group. The same night his band arrived Buckley went out for a late-night stroll to a Memphis harbor and waded into the river. He had always admired Led Zeppelin, and was singing "Whole Lotta Love" when a boat passed in front of him. He lost his footing, perhaps dragged into the water by the boat's wake, and was never seen alive again. He was thirty years old, two years older than his father, the folksinger Tim Buckley, had been when he died of a drug overdose.   "I first met Jeff Buckley and saw him perform about two years before he passed away. It was near midnight and Buckley was sitting int he back office of a Tower Records store in lower Manhattan. Buckley had become a scion of the Lower East Side antifolk scene, and was preparing for an in-store performance in support of his album GRACE.   "But first he needed to do something: he insisted on listening to a crackly old recording of "The Man That Got Away" by Judy Garland, in the pretext that he wanted the store manager, who had given the CD to Buckley, to understand how magnificent a gift it was. Buckley needed to demonstrate the album's beauty. He had also picked up gratis CD reissues of vintage Aretha Franklin and Nina Simone records, and two albums by Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan, who had a major influence on Buckley's singing. While Buckley could occasionally summon the same kind of ecstatic vocal power that was Khan's trademark, his singing had more in common with Garland's delicate, vulnerable warble.   "Buckley was an unglamorous star. That night he was wearing a wretched pair of weathered combat boots- the sort you occasionally see homeless men selling- a frumpy gray cardigan sweater, and jeans that hadn't been washed in a long time. Ditto his hair. In an oddly white-trash bit of accessorizing, Buckley's wallet was attached to his belt by a chain, in the style favored by motorcyle gangs. Three days of beard growth rounded out his anti-coif, but his sex appeal remained intact: a nervous girl approached to ask if, as she suspected, he was a Scorpio. Another pressed a poem she had written for him into his hand. He folded it carefully and put it in his pocket, as though he would cherish it forever. Maybe he did.   Buckley was at an odd moment in his career when he died. Having moved to New York several years before from California, where he was raised by his mother, he crawled his way up through the ranks of teh insular lower Manhattan music scene. He had beome a mini-star in that highly circumsribed mircrocosm, perched on the cusp of national and international success. That night at Tower records the line between Lower East Side local hero and international stardom seemed pretty thin. On one hand, his debut album sold several hundred thousand copies (although more in Europe than America), and there was a trhrong of photographers and autograph-seekers pressing around him. ON the other hand, he wasn't above hauling his own gear onstage, more or less indistinguishable from the half dozen stringy-haired sound men and roadies who were putting together the sound system in the first place.   "Buckley had no video in heavy rotation on MTV, largely because he insisted that people judge the music on the way it sounded before supplying them with an accompanying image. For the same reason, he refused to even suggest a single to radio deejays. 'What I'd love,' Buckley said, 'is if a deejay had a lineup of songs, and he'd just use one of my songs as part of a really nice evening. But that's the way I would deejay, not the way they do it. They usually have playlists.'   "For a guy with folksinging in his blood, Buckley had assembled an arsenal of prog-rock guitar effects you'd expect at an Emerson, Lake, and Palmer show and had set his amp at cat-spaying volume. (In fact, he had been raised on Led Zeppelin and Kiss.) Several dozen more stringy-haired people with assorted rings in their lips and noses (his fans) materialized. AS he stepped onto the makeshift stage, a grumpy security guard began clearing some fans from a stairway, but Buckley interjected: 'Wait! Those are my friends! Can they stay there? I give them special permission.' What started as dispensation for four friends ended up being extended to anybody who wanted to stay.   "The set began with a ghostly wail from Buckley, and a mildly Middle Eastern guitar line. He sang with a vibrato that quivered like the tongue of a snake. It was so atmospheric that you hardly realized his bandmates were rocking their tits off. That was the tension: Buckley ululating in sensual falsetto, the band churning out mid-seventies Led Zep knockoffs. He seemed a strangely ethereal cherub in the midsst of all that visceral thrash.   "After the show, Buckley signed autographs, taking several minutes with the thirty or so fans who lined up for an audience with the tousle-haired singer. Rather than just scribbling an autograph, he wrote a personal note to each person. Everything he did seemed to place poetry before commerce, but I couldn't help wondering if it was all an elaborate ruse, a crafty stance aimed at those disenchanted with the slickness of pop posturing. Didn't Buckley, after all, want to make a lot of money and sell records?   "'If it happens it'd be great,' he said later that night, over omelettes and wine at an all-night eatery, 'but we just play to express. I want to live my life playing music, so that we can be immersed in it. In order to learn how deep it goes, you have to be in it.'   "As to why he took so much time with each of the fans who asked for an autograph, Buckley articulated his basic anti-rock-star stance: 'The way I experience a performance is that there's an exchange going on. It's not just my ego being fed. It's thoughts and feelings. Raw expression has it's own knowledge and wisdom." He trailed off, as though humbled by the mere thought of his audience wanting to hear him play, or asking him for an autograph. 'I've been in their position before and all I wanted was to show my appreciation to the performaer. So I feel like it's kind of generous of them to even be asking me for an autograph.'   "'It's true that there's also the people who want a piece of you,' he conceded. 'But it's pretty hard to keep feeling protective all the time, because there's really nothign to protect yourself against. Sometimes people shout at me on the street, and they feel they know me through my music. But that doesn't substitute for a real personal relationship. I don't feel like people know me, I just htink we share a love for music in common, and for some reason they key into the way I play. I feel appretiative when people come up to me, and I feel good when we connect. Usually, it serves as a nice comedown after a performance. Any other conduct would bust the groove, because I'm buzzing when I get offstage, and I'm consciously protecting that connection because that's what got me through the performance in the first place. It's an invocation and worship fo this certain feeling, this direct line into your heart, and somehow music does that more powerfully than anything else. It's like ! a total, immediate elixir.'   "By all appearances Buckley conformed to the stereotype of the poetic artist: largely lacking the practical, thick-skinned psychic barrier that separates most of us from the harsh realities of life. With a rabbit-like nervous disposition and a hypersensitive vulnerability that bordered on the tragicomic, he looked like he was about to burst into tears at any moment. His face was contorted and slightly tortured-looking during most of the interview, though I got the impression it wasn't so much the experience of being interviewed that was torturing him but the pain of grappling with his own thoughts and the world around him.   "Relationships were at the heart of Buckley's world. Although he was marketed as a solo artist, the attitude he had toward his listeners mirrored the relationshiop he formed with his three-piece backing band. 'Playing with a band is all about accepting a bond, accepting everything the way it is. It takes a lot of patience and a lot of taking chances with each other. It wakes seeing each other in weak and strong lights, and accepting both, and utilizing the high and low points of your relationship.'   "It wasn't only interpersonal relationships that Buckley held sacred-- he was aware of making his music in relation to all the sounds around him. The environment was Buckley's co-composer: to his ears, no melody or rhythm was separate from the sounds going on in the background. 'It's not like music begins or ends. All hinds of sounds are working into each other. Sometimes I'll just stop on the street because there's a sequence of sirens going on; it's like a melody I'll never hear again. In performance, things can be meaningful or frivolous, but either way the musical experience is totally spontaneous, and new life comes out of it, meaning if you're open to hearing the way music interacts with ambient sound, performance never feels like a rote experience. It's pretty special sometimes, the way a song affects a room, the way you're in complete rhythm with the song. When you're emotionally overcome, and there's no filter between what you say and what you mean, your language beco! mes gutteral, simple, emotional, and full of pictures and clarity. Were you to transcribe it, it might not make sense, but music is a totally different language."   "'People talk all day in a practical way, but real language that penetrates and affects people and carries wisdom is something different. Mayve it's the middle of the afternoon and you see a child's moon up in the sky, and youfeel like it's such a simple, pure, wonderful thing to look at. It just hits you in a certain way, and you point it out to a stranger, and he looks at you like you're weird and walks away. To speak that way, to point out a child's moon to a stranger, is original language, it's the way you originate yourself. And the cool thing is, if you catch people in the right moment, it's totally clear. Without knowing why, it's simply clear. That sort of connection is very empirical. It comes from the part of you that just understands immediately. All these types of things are gold, and yet they are dishonored or not paid attention to because that kind of tender communication is so alien in our culture, *except* in performance. There's a wall up between people all day long ,but performance transcends that convention. If pop music were really seen as a fine art or if fine art were popular, I don't know what the hell would happen-- this wouldn't bee the same country, because if the masses of people began to respect and really open to fine art, it woudl bring about a huge shift in consciousness.   "'Music is so many things. It's not just the performer. it's the audience and the architecture of the song, and each builds off the other. Music is a setting for poignancy, anger, destruction, total disaster, total wrongness, and then- like a little speck of gold in the middle of it- excitement, but excitement in a way that matters. Excitement that is not just aesthetically pleasing but shoots some sort of understanding into you.'   "Buckley's songs were composed with made-up chords, bright harmonic clusters that seem too obvious not to have been written before, yet they rarely feel formulaic. There's a lot of open strumming, suggesting that the songs were written largely for the sheer physical pleasure of playing them. He and his band modified the arrangements during each performance, playing with an elasticity and openness typical of Buckley's personality. 'Hearing a song is like meeting somebody. A song is something that took time to grow and once it's there, it's on its own. Every time you perform it, it's different. It has its own structure, and you ahve to flow thorugh it, and it has to come through you.'   "Buckley's entire career reflected on his outsider's approach to the music business. When he arrived in New York, rahter than recordings a demo or finding an agent, he simpley began to perform for free. He palyed at a small cafe on the Lower East Side of Manhattan, and before long, crowds were lined up out the door. As a result, representatives of record companies sought out Buckley, rahter than the other way around. 'There is a distinct separation of sensibility between art as commerce and art as a way of life. If you buy into one too heavily it eats up the other. If instead of having songs happen as your life happens, you're getting a song together because you need a cetain number of songs on a release to be sold, the juice is cuked out immediately. That approach kills it.'   "Still, it took a strong belief in one's art to sit in a small cafe and trust that the world's record companies would come calling. buckley palyed down his seemingly effortless approach to career as though it were common-sense. 'I just wanted to learn cetain things. I wanted to just explore, like a kid with crayons. It took a while for me to get a record contract, but it also took a trememdous amount of time for me to feel comfortable playing, and that's all I was concerned with. And I'm still concerned with that, mainly.   "'I don't think about my responsibility as a musician in terms of any kind of religious significance. I don't have any allegiance to an organized religion; I have an alligience to the gifts that I find for myslef in those religions. They seem to be saying the same thing, they just have different mythologies and expressions, but the dogma of religions and the way they're misusued is all too much of a trap. I'd rather be nondenominational, except for music. I prefer to learn everything through music. If you want divinity, the music in every human being and their lvoe for music is pretty much it. It's the big indication of their spirituality and their ability to love and make love, or feel pain or joy, and really manifest it, really be real. But I don't believe in a big guy with a beard on a throne, telling us that we're bad; I certainly don't believe in original sin. I belive in the opposite of that: you have an Eden immediately form the time you are born, but as you are conditioned by your caretakers and your suroundings, you may lose that original thing. Your task is to get back to it, so you can claim responsibility for your own perfection.'   "buckley considered the development of awareness to be the main goal of his life. 'I think of it as trying to get more aligned with the feeling of purity in music, however it sounds. I think music is prayer. Sometimes poeple make up prayers and they don't even know it. They jsuit make up a song that has rhyme and meter, and once it's made it can carry on a life of its own. It can have a lot of juice to it and a lot of meaning: there's no end to the different individual flavors that people can bring to the musical form.   'In order to make the music actual, you have to enable it to be. And that takes facing some ting sinsude you that constrict you, your own impurity and mistakes and blockages. As yo uopen up yourself, the music opens up different directions that lead you in yet other directions.'   "Asking most pop musicians if they're satisfied with records sales is liek asking moleds about the aging process: they say they don't care, but it's hard to believe. For commercial recording artists, sales are the only objective indicator of whether they're doing things right- that fans are sincerely motivated to walk into records stores by the tens or by the millions, pull out their wallets, and pay for the music. But with his quiet, unaffected boice nearly a whisper, Buckley steadfastly maintained tha the really didn't want to sell a million records- and it was strangely believable. When he talked aobut multiplatinum-selling bands who felt "disappointed" by a mere five million copies sold, the disgust he felt for commercialism was palpabale. 'The only valuable thing about selling records, the only thing that matters, is that people connect and that you keep on growing. You do many choices based on how many poeple you reach, meaning, now that I have a relationship with strangers worldwide, I have to try not to let it become too much of a factor and just accept it. The limited success we've had in the past is definately a factor, it's just there. It jsut is. The whole thing is such a crapshoot, you can't really control what your appeal is going to be. My music ain't gonna make it into the malls, but it doesn't matter. I don't really care to make it into the malls.   "'Whether I sell a lot of records or not isn't up to me. You can sell alot of records, but that's just a number sold- that's not understood, or loved, or cherished.   "'Take someone like Michael Jackson. Early on he sacrificed himself to his need to be loved by all. His talent and his power were so great that he got what he wanted but he also got a direct, negative result, which is that he's not able to grown into an adult human being. And that's why his music sounds sort of empty and wierd.   "'Being the kind of person I am, fame is really overwhelming. First of all, just being faced with the questions that everybody faces: Do I matter? Should I go on? Why am I here? Is this really that improtant? All that low self-esteem shit. Your'e constantly trying to make sure that your sense of self-worth doesn't depend on the writings or opinions of other people. You have to wean yourself off acclaim as the object of your work, by learning to depend on your own judgment and knowing what it is that you enjoy. Youhave to realize what the difference is between being adored and being loved and understood. Big difference.   "'I don't really have super-pointed answers to the big questions. I'm just in the middle of a mystery myself. I'm not even that developed at having a real psycho-religeous epistemology about what I feel. All I can tell you is that I feel. It's just the same old fitht to constantly be aware. It's an ongoing thing. It'll never be a static perfect thing or a static mediocre thing, it just has it's rise and fall.'" The following chapter has been transcribed from Shambhala Publishers' _Inside the Music: Conversations with Contemporary Musicians about Spirtuality, Creativity and Consciousness_, by Dimitri Ehrlich; ISBN #1-57062-273-6

#jeff buckley #inside the music conversations with contemporary musicians about #spirituality #creativity and consciousness #Dimitri Ehrlich

[rureadytosingstories]

Feeling

Pairing: TsukkiYama (Soulmate AU)

TW: implied anxiety attacks and nightmares

Word Count: 6k+

Summary: [Whenever your soulmate carries a strong emotional burden, whether it be sadness, stress, or concern, you will feel a sudden physical pain in a random part of your body. If the pain persists, your soulmate may be in a perpetual state of emotional pain. Whenever your soulmate feels a physical pain, you will feel a pang of emotion hit you, usually in the chest area. There is no biological explanation for this phenomenon-]

That sounds like something out of a messed up fairy-tale. His annoyed brain supplies. How are people ever supposed to live with their soulmate when they know their soulmate’s the cause of their suffering?

(A/N: This story starts when Tsukishima and Yamaguchi are still in elementary school.)

“Hey, Aki-niichan?”

“What is it, Kei?” Akiteru looks up from his book, eyebrows furrowing at his younger brother’s hesitation.

“Does your body hurt sometimes? Like, randomly?” Kei finally looks up from his fidgeting fingers, giving his brother a nervous smile.

“Well, when I was your age-”

“You’re not that much older than me niichan-”

“I had a growth spurt too,” Akiteru smiles reassuringly.

Kei cocks his head to the side.

“Having growing pains is perfectly normal, Kei. You’ve already grown two centimeters this month alone. I’m sure you’re gonna keep growing. But you better not grow taller than me!” Akiteru glares playfully, chuckling at his brother’s annoyed pout. He pokes at the younger’s puffed up cheeks, returning Kei’s pout. A finger also pokes at Akiteru’s cheek as they compete to see who can hold more air in their mouths without letting it out.

‘Pbbbbbt.’ Their cheeks deflate at the same time, and loud peals of laughter echo around the bedroom.

Kei is the first to recover. “Niichan?”

“Mhm?”

“When’s your next volleyball game?”

Kei doesn’t notice how Akiteru stiffens, his smile contorting into an anxious frown. “It’s not for a while! We have to train hard before we can play in matches, after all!” Akiteru regains some of his composure, managing a wobbly grin.

“When is it though?”

“Kei, I think it’s time for you to go to bed,” Akiteru avoids the question, ruffling the other’s hair. Kei lets him, closing his eyes at the familiar feeling of warmth spreading through him.

“Okay,” the younger agrees obediently. “Goodnight, niichan.” He reluctantly stands up, making his way to his own bedroom.

“Goodnight, Kei.”

He misses the other’s relieved sigh, oblivious to his brother’s anxiety.

~~~~~~~~~~

He clutches his chest, feeling a whirlwind of emotions flow through him before he’s filled with nothing again. It’s been happening more frequently now and to be honest, he’s terrified. He doesn’t know where these emotions are coming from, and most of the time, he doesn’t even know what the emotions are, and that’s more scary than anything.

“Hey, get up.”

A voice drifts toward Kei from the other side of the gate, but he doesn’t register the implications, grabbing his chest as another wave of feeling explodes inside of him.

“You’re gonna carry all our bags today.”

The voice is clearer now as various pains shoot through his shoulder and back. Kei turns toward the source of the voice, scowling at the other boy.

“What are you looking at?” the boy sneers.

Kei’s eyes drift down to the crying boy surrounded by backpacks. His eyes snap back up to the other boy, confirmed bully, and they narrow into a dangerous glare.

“Pathetic.”

A throbbing ache starts up in his right wrist. He turns around, swiftly making his way back home.

“Whatever. It’s not like I care!”

He hears loud footsteps behind him, but he doesn’t turn around. He stretches out his wrist, smiling as the pain gradually lessens into a faint sting.

~~~~~~~~~~

“I- Thank you for the other day!”

Kei turns to see a freckled brunette boy standing in the doorway of the gym. He doesn’t recognize him at first, but he does recognize the dull ache sprouting from his shoulder.

“Have we met?”

The ache starts to throb, but he’s already gotten used to it enough not to flinch.

“The… park… The other day…”

“Oh. So why are you here?” He says it as casually as he can while his shoulder feels like it’s being bashed by a frying pan. He doesn’t think growing pains should hurt this much, but he refuses to go to the doctor for anything as trivial as this.

“I- uh- wanted to join a sport… The baseball and soccer players looked really intimidating, but the people here seem safe…” the brunette trails off, avoiding the other’s gaze.

Kei gives him a concerned look, temporarily forgetting about the pain hammering through various parts of his body.

“Oh! Those shoes are so cool! I only have my school-issued gym shoes!”

Kei jolts at the sudden burst of excitement, but he takes it into stride answering, “These are hand-me-downs.” He glances down at his shoes. “I’m only wearing my brother’s old shoes until I get new ones next week.” He feels the prickling in his leg disappear as he stretches it out.

“Your brother plays volleyball, too?”

“He plays at a strong school called Karasuno. He’s considered the ace.” He rolls his shoulders, grinning as the tension in his shoulder disappears.

“He’s the ace of a powerhouse school?! Uwahhh, that’s so cool!!!”

He gets another burst of the other’s energy and he feels his whole body start to relax. “Nah, it’s no big deal. He’s been one ever since middle school,” Kei continues to brag, smiling smugly.

“Wow! How long has he been playing? Was he on this team? Aces are so cool!!!” the shorter boy shouts excitedly.

Kei continues to grin, stretching his arm to relieve the last of the pains.

~~~~~~~~~~

Tadashi squints down at the court, looking fervently for a head of blonde hair. He can feel himself start to panic when he doesn’t see a familiar figure playing on the court, not even on the bench-

He catches his friend’s gaze, his eyes widening as he spots who he was looking for in the opposite stands. He can’t hold back a gasp of shock, but quickly recovers enough to see Kei’s reaction.

The taller boy has gone stiff, his grip on the railing tightening until his knuckles contrast greatly  with the wooden bars.

“I told you so! My brother’s a third year and he doesn’t even get to play!” their classmate shoves a newspaper in their faces, complaining loudly.

“Okay, we get it already,” Tadashi tries to placate the other, sneaking glances at his friend. He’s still standing frozen, his eyes never leaving the opposite side. Tadashi joins him in his silence, gripping his own arm tightly.

They stay like that for the entire match with Tadashi only speaking to make their classmate stop complaining. He doesn’t register the sharp pain in his left wrist until he lets go. It lingers for a few minutes, but he’s too worried about Kei to care.

~~~~~~~~

Kei doesn’t come to practice that week. Tadashi still sees him at school, but he’s afraid to mention it, afraid to even mention volleyball and it’s really hard to find a different topic they share an interest in.

“So, Tsukki, what’s your favorite constellation?” Tadashi asks, trying to break their awkward silence.

“Scorpius.” Kei finally turns to him, a faint sparkle in his eyes.

“I’m a scorpio!” Tadashi exclaims, quickly lowering his head when his classmates stare at him. “Um, why do you like scorpius?”

“I thought it looked like a pterodactyl without wings,” Kei admits quietly.

“Ooh!!! Pterodactyls are so cool!!!” Tadashi waves his arms excitedly.

“You like dinosaurs too?” Kei can’t keep the hope out of his voice.

“I do! But I don’t know that much about them…” Tadashi trails off, his fingers playing with the hem of his shirt.

Kei’s only discouraged for a moment, before he pulls out his children’s dinosaur encyclopedia, pointing out his favorite dinosaurs and why he likes them so much.

Tadashi listens with a bright smile, occasionally adding in his own commentary.

~~~~~~~~~~

Kei comes back to practice two weeks later, and Tadashi can’t help but think his efforts have paid off.

“Tsukki!” he exclaims, running over to the taller boy.

“Hey Yamaguchi,” Kei answers casually, as if he hadn’t missed a day of practice.

“We’re practicing receives today!” Tadashi shouts, realizing a few seconds too late that Kei hates receive practice.

For a moment, he’s afraid Kei might leave and never come back, but the taller boy lets a small smirk grace his lips, his eyes glinting behind his glasses.

Tadashi follows him back into the gym, his ecstatic smile blooming through the whole practice.

~~~~~~~~~~

Kei can’t remember the last time he felt this peaceful. But then he remembers long summer nights sitting on the porch with his brother, pointing out random constellations. He quickly pushes down those thoughts, focusing more on the boy lying next to him.

“Hey, doesn’t that look like a seismosaurus?” Tadashi points at a long arrangement of stars, his finger following the curve of his made-up constellation.

“Its tail isn’t long enough. It’s more like a brachiosaurus,” Kei argues, also tracing the constellation.

“Then that one’s a dilophosaurus!” The smaller boy outlines another string of stars before turning to Kei. The taller one also turns and barely manages to hold in a laugh as Tadashi puts both thumbs to his cheeks, flaring his fingers out around his face.

“Did you watch Jurassic Park?” Kei hides a smirk behind his hand, returning his gaze back up to the stars.

“Yeah…?” Tadashi admits quietly.

“They haven’t proven if dilophosauruses had those neck frills or not,” Kei states, idly using his finger to connect more sparkles in the sky.

“But they haven’t proven that they didn’t have frills,” Tadashi argues, grinning at the other boy.

Kei scoffs, “They were predators. I doubt they had neck frills; they would’ve just gotten in the way.”

“But without neck frills, they aren’t as scary!” Tadashi refutes, crossing his arms across his chest.

“Even if they had them, I don’t think they were meant to look scary,” Kei answers calmly, his finger still drifting through the air. “That one looks like a pterodactyl,” he tries to change the subject.  

“One with wings, or one without?”

Kei can hear the smirk in the other’s voice. “One with wings.”

“Ooh, which one?”

He hesitates for a second before gently grabbing his friend’s hand, guiding his finger toward the head of the pterodactyl. He helps him trace the outline of the flying dinosaur, ignoring the trembling of the other’s hand.

“Woah, that’s so cool!” Tadashi exclaims, subtly trying to pull his hand back. Kei holds on tighter, rubbing his warm fingers against the shorter’s cold ones.

“And that one’s a triceratops.” He continues to guide the other’s hand, half expecting Tadashi to yank his hand away.

He’s relieved to feel his friend slowly start to relax as their hands gradually heat up to match the blinding smiles on their faces.

~~~~~~~~~~

Tadashi takes a deep breath, trying to will his uneasiness away. But it never works.

He’s heading over to Kei’s house for the first time. His friend had finally agreed to show him his dinosaur collection, but now Tadashi’s having second thoughts.

Tsukki’s always avoided having me over. Maybe he’s afraid of introducing me to his family? He can feel the weight in his chest steadily increasing as his thoughts take a turn for the worst. He avoids another crack in the sidewalk as he barely manages to keep up with his friend’s hurried pace.

But then why is he still your friend? He wouldn’t continue to hang out with you if he thought his family would disapprove. He manages to cling onto what little self-confidence he has left.

He’s obviously using you since he doesn’t have anyone else. If you rely on him too much, he’ll leave you.

Tadashi shudders at the thought, his footsteps gaining more silence between each. He doesn’t realize he’s come to a full stop until he feels something on his right shoulder.

“Were you lying when you said you weren’t sick, earlier?”

Tadashi startles at the question, his eyes widening when he hears the concern in his friend’s voice. Kei rarely reveals any emotion, and when he does, it means he feels very strongly about something.

He chides himself for being so obvious before giving the taller boy his best reassuring smile. “I’m fine, Tsukki! I’m just worried about our math test tomorrow!” He lies easily, but his anxiety spreads to his hands and he hastily hides them behind his back.

Kei rolls his shoulders, frowning when the growing pains extend to his wrists. “If you say so.” He lets it go for now, continuing to subtly stretch his shoulder and arms.

~~~~~~~~~~

He knew this was going to happen. He’d expected his parents to love Tadashi, and he’d known they would invite him to dinner. He’d also predicted Tadashi would reject the offer at first, but feel inclined to accept after his parents’ fervent attempts to make him stay.

Kei hadn’t expected his brother to suddenly come home, saying he’d forgotten his history textbook but hadn’t been able to come back until now since he’d had freshman orientation.

He’d suspected it was his parent’s doing at first, but he quickly realizes it really was a coincidence. He starts to not care about the cause and more on the effect when he notices during his prolonged silence, Tadashi and his brother had started a conversation on their favorite action shows.

“Kei used to love Ultraman before he moved on to dinosaurs,” Akiteru comments, winking over at his younger brother.

Kei averts his gaze, resting his eyes on Tadashi’s sparkling ones.

“Really? Who’s your favorite villain?”

Kei holds back a smirk as he gains Tadashi’s full attention. “Zetton,” he mutters.

“The epic space dinosaur!” Tadashi exclaims.

“I do admit, the final battle was pretty epic,” Akiteru acknowledges. Kei frowns as Tadashi turns back to his brother.

“Yeah! The effects were so cool and I didn’t expect Zetton to almost defeat Ultraman!”

“He had me scared for a little while.”

“It’s not like they’d kill off the main character that easily,” Kei scoffs, leaning back on his hands. He flinches as a sharp pain shoots through his arm.

“Do you still have growing pains? I mean, you’re still growing after all,” Akiteru answers his own question, giving his younger brother a worried look.

Kei prepares to make a witty retort, but his friend’s reaction makes him pause.

“Tadashi-kun, are you okay?”

Kei holds back a frustrated glare. They’ve barely just met and he’s already calling him Tadashi-kun?

“I- Is that what it is?”

The brunette’s question makes him turn back to his friend. Tadashi continues to stare at the floor, his fingers folding and unfolding to an arrhythmic beat.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure you’re going to grow taller than Kei,” Akiteru teases, a shit-eating grin stealing his normally pleasant face.

“I hope so.” Tadashi regains some of his initial cheer, smiling up at his brother.

“Only if I let you,” Kei challenges, smirking when he earns a pout from his friend.

“I may be shorter than you now, but I drink milk every single day!”

“Kei, I told you you should drink more milk.”

Kei ignores his brother, his eyes trained on Tadashi. “You need to drink at least two cups a day to grow taller.”

“I drink three cups a day!”

“You might even grow taller than me!” Akiteru exclaims.

Kei scowls as the brunette grins at his brother.

They continue to fight for his friend’s attention, Tadashi staying blissfully oblivious to the fact that Akiteru was the reason Kei had avoided bringing his friend over for the longest time.

~~~~~~~~~~

Kei has long since realized that the perpetual aching in his limbs is not growing pains. He’d looked it up at his school library, and had only come across one recurring result.

Soulmate pains. He’d found the concept as ridiculous as the phrase sounds, but he’d continued his research.

‘There are over 6 billion people in this world, but only one of them is your soulmate.There are several rare cases of people having more than one soulmate, but that is highly uncommon. No one knows how soulmates are chosen-’

He skips the intro of the article, quickly scrolling back up when he accidentally passes the section about how the system works.

‘Whenever your soulmate carries a strong emotional burden, whether it be sadness, stress, or concern, you will feel a sudden physical pain in a random part of your body. If the pain persists, your soulmate may be in a perpetual state of emotional pain. Whenever your soulmate feels a physical pain, you will feel a pang of emotion hit you, usually in the chest area. There is no biological explanation for this phenomenon-’

He stops reading, pondering over what he’d just learned. So if I hurt myself, my soulmate will feel sad, and if I feel sad, my soulmate will feel physical pain.

That sounds like something out of a messed up fairy-tale. His annoyed brain supplies. How are people ever supposed to live with their soulmate when they know their soulmate’s the cause of their suffering?

He closes the tab, searching for something more relevant to his situation. He clicks on the first result that comes up.

‘Yeah, I think the entire concept is warped since soulmate identification systems are supposed to make it easier to find them, not harder.’ He belatedly realizes he’s reading a forum where people can comment about how they found their soulmates.

‘I think you’ve read a few too many fanfics.’ Golden eyes narrow at the computer screen as he tries to make sense of the comment. After a few seconds, he decides to skip it, hoping the next one might give him more context.

‘But it does make it easier to find your soulmate! My wife is super clumsy, so for my whole childhood, I thought I had anxiety or something. Turns out she kept tripping or bumping into things so she always had a broken bone or a ton of bruises.’ Kei wonders if his own soulmate is clumsy, maybe that’s why my body always hurts? Wait, but I have physical pains, so my soulmate’s always in distress? A frown takes over his face as he tries to figure out why his soulmate would always be sad. He decides to think about it later, focusing back on the computer screen.

‘Oh, and don’t forget that the closer you are to your soulmate, the stronger the pains are. Also, the only way to get rid of the pain is to be in physical contact. I should know since my husband and I are near inseparable since he has depression.’

Kei feels like he’s more confused than he was when he first started researching. Depression? Anxiety? He’d heard those words used during class when explaining emotions, but he’s never heard them being used as… medical terms? He opens another tab to-

“The library will be closing in five minutes. Please make your way to the front to check out your books,” the librarian’s voice booms over the loudspeakers.

Kei looks up at the clock, eyes widening when he realizes it’s already seven o’clock. If he doesn’t head home now, his parents will start getting worried.

He stands up and stretches out his legs, grimacing when the pain can’t be shaken away. He’s still skeptical about whether soulmate bonds actually exist, but now he can’t deny he’s interested.

~~~~~~~~~~~

It always starts off as one bubble.

One tiny mistake, one misunderstanding that both sides refuse to acknowledge and explain.  

And Tadashi expects the bubble to pop eventually, to pop and set him free from the anxiety, the guilt, the shame.

But it doesn’t.

Another bubble is blown. Larger and larger. He’s not sure who’s blowing it, but he can’t help but blame himself.

This bubble pops easily, but not without leaving some of its air with the other.

And the cycle continues.

Tiny bubbles drift in, some popping before they even reach him. But the ones that do linger feed on each other, converging until they leave him with one. One huge bubble, threatening to pop at any harsh word, any careless mistake, any ignored text.

You can do it, Tadashi repeats. Today is the day.

But the day never comes. And miraculously, the bubble never pops.

It hides in the shadows, but it’s suffocating, leeching on the microscopic bubbles he continues to create.

Tadashi’s been avoiding Kei, convincing himself he’s doing it to give his friend some space. He’s been called clingy before, and he doesn’t want his best friend to think he’s annoying, or worse, leave him for it.

And there’s another reason. He’s felt it building up for over a month, threatening to explode inside of him.

I can’t let him know. He’ll call me pathetic again. He feels another bubble of anxiety expand in his chest.

No, I really need to stop calling them bubbles. They’re more like thousand ton weights compressing against my chest and lungs, making my hands tremble, my legs numb, my brain suffocate… But why do I feel like flying -running away- instead of sinking into the ground?

Tadashi pulls his knees against his chest, hiding his head under his arms. He’d managed to sneak out to the infirmary, and he’s eternally thankful that the nurse knows about his condition. She’d just left to restock on more paper towels, so he’s left alone to ponder over everything that’s gone wrong.

Kei has been acting distant ever since Tadashi met Akiteru. It’s exam season, so he’s barely getting any sleep. His growing pains have now spread to his entire body. There are too many burdens squeezing the life out of his undead corpse, and even playing volleyball with his best friend isn’t enough to revive him.

He clutches at his chest as an especially strong onslaught of feeling erupts within him. He can’t identify the emotions coursing through him. Through his hazy mind, he somehow manages to scoot back, leaning heavily against the headrest of the bed.

‘Thunk.’

He faintly registers the door opening, and forces a small smile, hoping the nurse came back.

“Yamaguchi.”

Tadashi freezes as he realizes who’s standing in the doorway. Kei has one hand still on the doorknob, the other slightly tilted so that no blood drips on the floor.

Another explosion racks Tadashi’s entire body, squeezing the last of the air out of him. He knows he won’t suffocate, but he feels like he will, he can’t breathe, he needs air, I can’t- I’m gonna die- I need- Please- Help- I-

He feels himself soaring, not realizing he’s taken off into the depths of his mind until a gentle touch grounds him back to reality.

“Yamaguchi,” a soft voice drifts in before anchoring onto the remaining microscopic bubbles.

‘Pop!’ One by one, they start to break and Tadashi’s whole body feels heavier but it’s a good heavy. It’s the type of weight he’s needed; a reason to stay grounded rather than allowing the bubbles to help him fly away.

He doesn’t feel like escaping anymore.

“Tsukki,” he whispers, grabbing onto the other’s shirt as if he’s afraid he’ll run away. But the grip on his shoulder only tightens.

And that’s when the relief hits. It seeps in through the stitches of Kei’s blanket of reassurance and Tadashi feels his shoulders sag as the last of the bubbles explode.

He inhales a shuddering breath, reveling at how easily his lungs fill with air. His breathing gradually calms as Kei’s hand drifts down to his back, rubbing soothing circles between his shoulder blades.

“Thanks,” Tadashi breathes out, his eyes closing in contentment.

Kei thinks he’s finally starting to understand what hours on the computer couldn’t help him comprehend.

~~~~~~~~~~

Kei realizes a week later that Tadashi doesn’t know what soulmates are. Since soulmates are a controversial topic and rarely anyone finds their soulmate before they’re an adult, the topic isn’t taught until high school.

It gives him one more reason to hate the school system.

He sighs loudly as he changes into his gym clothes. He doesn’t want to play volleyball without Tadashi, he’s still salty about being placed in different classes, but he also knows his gym teacher doesn’t really like him.

He ignores the dull ache spreading from his ankle as he ties his volleyball shoes, quickly making his way into the gym.

~~~~~~~~~~~

He feels himself soaring, slipping, falling-

And then nothing. He opens his eyes and is greeted by a dark, blurry silhouette of his best friend sleeping next to him. His eyes narrow as he tries to remember where he is-

Tadashi’s staying over today, he recalls, his eyelids threatening to flutter shut. He tries to get up in order to move back into his own bed, but a strong grip on his left wrist stops him.

Kei is only slightly deterred as he attempts to gently lift the other’s fingers off of his arm. But Tadashi keeps tightening his fingers, not enough to hurt, but enough to make Kei frustrated.

He wants to sleep. He needs to sleep. They have volleyball practice tomorrow morning, or today since it’s probably already past midnight, and Kei hasn’t been sleeping well for the past few days. He thought it would help if Tadashi stayed over, but his plan had only backfired-

No. It didn’t backfire. He turns over onto his side, closing his eyes.

His mind drifts back to the nightmare that had woken him up. Tadashi had left him for a bigger group of friends, friends that deserved to be with him, and Kei had taken the cowardly route. He’d thought it would be better to disappear completely if his best friend was leaving him. He’d thought no one would care if he finally acted on impulse, doing what so many people must have always wanted him to do.

He rolls so he’s laying with his back to the futon, Tadashi’s fingers still encircling his wrist. He realizes, despite just waking from a nightmare, he’s strangely at peace.

It isn’t a huge revelation. He’d always had his suspicions, and now they were confirmed.

He’s already half asleep when he revels in how all his uneasiness has gone away, all his aches have disappeared, and he’s finally able to close his eyes, slipping into a dreamless sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s hard not to reveal your love for someone, especially after finding out he’s your soulmate. Kei knows there are platonic soulmates, but he wants something more.

After his short bout of doubt which lasts only a day, he’s hit by an overwhelming urge to tell Tadashi, explain to his best friend what a soulmate is, how they’re soulmates, and how Kei wants to further their relationship as much as the other will let him.

He may not actively seek physical contact and act indifferent towards everything, but when it comes to Tadashi, he’d do anything for him. He only hopes the other reciprocates his feelings.

~~~~~~~~~~

He hasn’t felt such an intense pain in his shoulder since his third year in middle school when he-

His feet don’t need to be told where to go as he sprints toward the school infirmary. He’d memorized the route with Tadashi when they first toured the Karasuno campus, so he continues sprinting as the pain in his shoulder steadily increases, signifying he’s heading toward the right direction.

He opens the door to the infirmary, ignoring the nurse as he takes a seat next to Tadashi. “Tsukki.” Tadashi’s pained whisper makes his head start throbbing. The nurse’s complaints pass through both ears as Kei gently grasps Tadashi’s hands, rubbing warmth back into them.

“I’m right here,” he whispers, letting a rare smile bloom on his face. His soulmate returns it as their breaths and heartbeats gradually slow to synchrony.

~~~~~~~~~~

“You know, I’ve known for a while that we were soulmates,” Tadashi admits on their way home.

“Since when?” Kei asks. He’d figured the other knew, but hadn’t mentioned anything in courtesy of Kei. His best friend seems oblivious, but he’s rather perceptive when it comes to anything concerning Kei.

“Since the first time you slipped into my futon,” Tadashi confesses, grinning up at the taller boy.

“And you didn’t tell me because…?” He hadn’t meant to sound so threatening, but Tadashi answers with a soft chuckle.

“It was only a week after I told you I didn’t know what soulmates were,” the pinch server whispers, blushing slightly.

Kei nods in understanding. He can’t admonish his friend when he himself chose not to tell him right away. And technically speaking, he hadn’t told his friend; Tadashi had managed to find out for himself.

“So… What do we do now?”

Kei gives him a meaningful stare.

“I don’t know if I’m reading into this too much, but you look like you really want to… hold hands?” Tadashi guesses.

“You’re not reading into this too much,” Kei answers, subtly holding his left hand out to the other boy.

Tadashi doesn’t hesitate before grabbing his hand, and both boys relax as a sense of calm spreads through their whole bodies.

~~~~~~~~~~

Tadashi grimaces as he realizes they’re going to be playing dodge-ball today. He feels a brush of skin against his own and doesn’t need to look to see his soulmate standing next to him.

I won’t let anything hurt you. Another brush of hands, and then they’re forced to part as they walk to their respective teams.

They’ve been split into teams of six. Tadashi doesn’t know how, but he’d ended up on a team with four basketball players and one soccer player. He doesn’t know if he’s extremely lucky or terribly unlucky as an intense pressure curls inside his chest. He tries but fails to push it down, glancing up at Kei. The taller boy has found a peaceful spot on the side of the gym and is ignoring his five other teammates’ attempts to strategize.

“Teams one and three are up first!”

Tadashi follows his team onto the dodgeball court, his eyes meeting Kei’s on the other side.

Crap. I’m playing against Tsukki? Tadashi hides behind one of the taller basketball players, doing his best to avoid being noticed.

‘Fweeeeet!!!’

Tadashi misses the starting tip-off, and opts to hide on the side as one of the girls on his team catches the ball. Her face sprouts a dangerous smirk as she throws the ball. It seemingly swishes towards an empty space before curving right and hitting one of their opponents on the leg.

“Out!” their teacher shouts, motioning for the boy to get off center court. The boy glares at his teammate before jogging to the other side of the court.

Tadashi continues to hide on the side, slightly relaxing when the ball never comes close to him.

He fails to notice the murderous glare of his best friend, making people think twice before they try to hit Tadashi.

~~~~~~~~~~

They’re the only one’s left in the boy’s locker room.

“Sorry Tsukki, did it hurt when I got hit?” Tadashi whispers, leaning back against Kei’s chest.

Kei doesn’t answer, but continues to lightly caress the large bruise starting to form on his soulmate’s left knee.

~~~~~~~~~~

He hasn’t felt this horrible in a while.

The familiar bursts of feeling get stronger as he sprints toward Kei’s house. His own anxiety mixes with it, creating a tornado of unbalanced emotions, threatening to make him pass out.

“Tadashi-kun!”

He looks up to see Akiteru standing in the doorway. He’s ushered into the house, and swiftly led to Kei’s bedroom.

Even in the dim room, Tadashi can see how much Kei is suffering, can feel the spikes of pain shooting through his body.

“Tadashi,” Kei gasps out, deliriously reaching out toward him. Tadashi grabs his hand, letting out a long breath. He smiles as his soulmate’s forehead finally relaxes, his whole face smoothing over with a neutral expression. It only takes a few more seconds before Kei’s breathing has evened out, signifying a dreamless sleep.

“He wouldn’t stop asking for you,” Akiteru whispers over the comfortable silence. “Thanks for getting here so quickly.”

Tadashi turns to see him blocking the light from the doorway. He doesn’t know how to answer, so he silently nods, lowering his gaze back to Kei’s face.

“How have you been?” Akiteru asks, closing the door behind him before taking a seat in Kei’s chair.

“I’ve been better. Tsukki seems really stressed though, and he’s been avoiding me again,” Tadashi answers, knowing what Akiteru really wanted to ask.

The older man sighs, leaning back against the chair. “I’m guessing it’s volleyball related?”

“We have our summer training camp in a week,” Tadashi whispers nervously. His free hand flexes and unflexes as if he desperately wants to hold a volleyball.

“Is that the one in Tokyo?”

“Yeah.” So many emotions are revealed from just one word. Excitement. Fear. Doubt. Envy. Insecurity.

“I heard you’ve been practicing your jump float serves.” Akiteru doesn’t try to conceal the praise in his voice.

“I… I’m not that good. But I’ve been practicing a lot more since our loss at the Inter-high,” Tadashi admits quietly.

“I wish Kei had your determination,” Akiteru whispers, scooting forward to rest his elbows on his brother’s desk.

Tadashi doesn’t know how to answer, so he wordlessly shakes his head.

“Has Kei ever… nevermind,” Akiteru trails off, standing up.

He’s almost out the door when Tadashi mutters, “He doesn’t hate you, Aki-niisan. He just needs a little more time to organize his thoughts. I don’t think he fully understands how to forgive someone, yet.” A reassuring smile blooms on his lips as he looks up at his soulmate’s brother. Akiteru returns it as best he can, before leaving to get some food and medicine for Kei.

Tadashi’s free hand drifts to Kei’s face, tracing dinosaur constellations against his cheeks.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Motivation? What more do you need than pride?!”

Tadashi belatedly realizes that he has Kei’s shirt curled in his hands and they’re close enough to kiss. He pulls back at the realization, nervously waiting for his friend’s answer.

“You’re so cool.”

Wait, what?!

“When did you become so cool, Tadashi?”

Kei’s words make him take another step back, his eyes flickering between his soulmate’s face, lips, and shirt. The white fabric is still crumpled around the collar, and Tadashi regrets not pulling him in for a kiss.

“What?” he gasps out, not fully understanding what’s happening.

“You’re so cool,” Kei repeats.

Tadashi manages to respond with a confused smile.

“I have to go check something.”

Tadashi’s still frozen as Kei makes his way back to the third gym.

It’s not until an hour later when they both realize their headaches have miraculously disappeared.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Woah! Tsukishima’s new glasses are so cool!!!”

Hinata’s shout makes Tadashi look up from his volleyball.

“Hinata, you’ve been saying that every day for the past week or so,” he comments, grinning up at Kei.

“Having you say that makes me second-guess my confidence, so I wish you’d stop,” Kei states with his usual deadpan voice, side-eyeing Hinata before looking back down at his glasses.

“Hey!”

Tadashi chuckles at the spiker’s shout, bumping his shoulder against the taller boy’s affectionately. Kei returns the bump, his face swiftly switching into game mode.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Thank you.”

Tadashi looks up from his textbook to see Akiteru in the doorway, holding a tray filled with snacks.

“I’m sorry, I’m not sure…?”

“I’m so glad you’re Kei’s soulmate.” Akiteru smiles, gently placing the tray on the table.

“How..?” Tadashi hasn’t told anyone about his soulmate yet. And he trusts Kei hasn’t told anyone either.

“I wouldn’t be able to call myself his brother if I didn’t notice something as simple as that,” Akiteru states, placing both hands on his hips.

Tadashi chuckles before whispering, “I really didn’t do anything though.”

“You don’t give yourself enough credit.” Akiteru ruffles his hair. “Even just your presence makes Kei a more agreeable person.”

“Niisan, stop telling him lies.”

They both turn to see Kei standing in the doorway. He has his usual deadpan expression, but the corners of his lips are twitching up in amusement.

“I’m only telling him the truth,” Akiteru chuckles, grinning at his brother.

“Scorpius looks like a wingless pterodactyl,” Kei mutters, glancing over at his brother.

“No, it looks like a seahorse.” Akiteru gives him his closed-eye smile, before turning to Tadashi. “Doesn’t it look like a seahorse, Tadashi-kun?”

Kei also turns to him with an expectant look.

“I’m sorry Aki-niisan, but I’m gonna have to go with Tsukki on this one,” Tadashi smiles in apology.

“Wha-!” Akiteru clutches his chest in mock betrayal.

“See niisan, Scorpius is a pterodactyl without wings.”

“That’s practically a seahorse!”

“Seahorses aren’t dinosaurs.”

“But what does that have to do with Scorpius? I mean, it starts with an ‘s,’ so it might as well be a seahorse!”

Wait… Isn’t Scorpius supposed to be a scorpion? Tadashi giggles at the thought, watching fondly as the two brothers continue to quarrel.

~~~~~~~~~~

Tadashi grins when he hears a familiar voice cheering from the stands. He’d subtly mentioned the date and time of their final match to Akiteru and was pleasantly surprised that his efforts had succeeded.

He chuckles at Kei’s annoyed glare, motivating him to cheer louder for his team.

~~~~~~~~~~

He feels more than sees Kei’s injury. A tumult of emotions explode inside his head, forcing him to squeeze his eyes shut.

“He’s bleeding!”

“He needs to get that hand looked at!”

“I’ll take him to the infirmary!”

I’m okay. I’m okay. Tsukki’s in more pain than I am. Tadashi chants to himself, hiding his trembling hands behind his back.

“You’d better buy us some time!”

He knows it’s not meant for him, but he can’t help but hear a different implication. Don’t worry, I’ll be back soon.

“By the time you get back, we’ll already be bound for nationals!”

When he opens his eyes, his soulmate is already gone.

~~~~~~~~~~

“I bought you some time… Or that’s what I’d like to say, but Yamaguchi actually bought more time than me.” Hinata comments as he sits next to him.

“Thanks for being honest,” he mutters emotionlessly, looking back at the court. But then he’s reminded of what had been bothering him the whole time he was in the infirmary.

He’d been so worried about getting back on the court as fast as he could that he’d overlooked Tadashi’s pain.

He ignores Hinata’s side-glance as he stands up, sneaking his way over to Tadashi. He pulls him to the back of the group, wrapping him in a strong embrace. His uninjured hand curls around the back of his soulmate’s neck, gently pulling him into his chest.

“T-Tsukki? Are you okay?” Tadashi’s words are muffled, but the concern still makes it through.

“I am, but you’re not,” Kei states, feeling the other’s erratic heartbeat against his chest. “Try to match my breathing,” he whispers, deliberately making his breaths more pronounced.

Tadashi’s trembling arms circle around Kei’s back, pulling him even closer.

“How did you serve like this?” Kei asks, genuinely curious.

“I knew you were in more pain than me,” Tadashi whispers. “And I couldn’t let us lose, since you promised you’d come back.”

He can feel the other boy smiling against his chest. “Thank you.”

The whistle blows, drowning out Tadashi’s answer. Kei reluctantly pulls away, returning his friend’s determined grin before running back onto the court.

~~~~~~~~~~~

“Tsukki, the awards ceremony is going to start.” He freezes in the doorway as he sees Kei hunched over the sink. “Is something wrong?”

“I promised I would block his spikes… and I only blocked one. Even though there were five sets. Talk about lame-”

“There’s no way you were lame!!! Are you stupid?!!!” Tadashi shouts, flailing his arms about. He ignores the pain in his knee, taking a step closer.

“Stu-?!”

“This isn’t the time to be down! We’re going to Nationals! Nationals!!!” Tadashi’s gestures give emphasis to his words as he strides toward his friend. “But before that, we have the awards ceremony!” He calms down a bit, grabbing Kei’s good hand. Their fingers naturally intertwine as Tadashi leads his soulmate back to the gym.

~~~~~~~~~~

They’d won against Shiratorizawa. The Shiratorizawa.

He still hasn’t fully accepted the reality of their situation.

“Hey, that looks like a saltasaurus,” Tadashi whispers, outlining a string of stars.

“Yeah. And that one looks like a lambeosaurus,” Kei answers, turning toward his friend. He tries not to snicker when he sees Tadashi put a thumb to his forehead with his fingers flared out. “The crest is on top of its head,” he whispers, moving Tadashi’s hand so that his thumb rests on his hairline.

“Hey Tsukki?”

“Hm?”

“We’re going to nationals.” Tadashi beams at him, gently cradling his soulmate’s injured right hand.

“Yeah.” Kei’s voice can’t hide his disbelief.

“Hey Tsukki?”

“Yeah?”

“I- Willyoubemyboyfriend?”

“What?”

“Will you please go out with me? I mean, the team already kinda figured out we’re soulmates since we kinda hugged in public and I’m pretty sure-”

“I thought we were already dating?” Kei mutters neutrally.

“Wait, what?! I can’t believe- Are you serious?!” Tadashi sits up, unconsciously cradling Kei’s hand against his chest.

“Yeah.”

“I can’t believe you- Ugh- I was so nervous and-”

Kei can’t hold back anymore. He starts off with a soft chuckle, but it steadily grows into loud, breathless laughter.

“You’re just messing with me aren’t you?” Tadashi pouts. Kei pokes his cheek, his laughter regaining volume when his friend- his boyfriend makes a ridiculous sound with his lips.

Tadashi joins him in his poke war, pinpointing all of his soulmate’s ticklish spots.

“Hey, you never answered my question!” Tadashi shouts over Kei’s laughter.

“Do you really need to ask?” Kei sneaks a hand around Tadashi’s waist, pulling him closer.

Their foreheads collide, eyes closing as the overwhelming feeling of love clears away all other emotions, enveloping them in a soft blanket of warmth.

(A/N: Thank you so much for the request, @makadoodle14!!! And thank you all so much for reading!!! ^o^)

#tsukkiyama #hq #spoiler alert #slow burn #tw: anxiety attacks #tw: nightmare #feeling #requested fic

[ratlion]

The Scorpio Races

After I release Tommy Falk’s mare, I am drawn into the funeral party. By the light of the fire, everyone’s face is a secret until you are right upon them. I search one and then the other; I see Gabriel Connolly and Finn Connolly but not Puck. I ask Finn with his scarecrow posture if Puck had come with them and he says, “Of course,” but no more. I move through the group, touching elbows and asking after her, thinking all the while that to do so is to shout my feelings about her. No one has seen her. The race is tomorrow and I’ve done my part for Tommy Falk and I should go back to the yard but I feel hollow, knowing that Puck’s here somewhere and I haven’t found her. I need to find her, and the needing disquiets me. For a long moment I stand on the rocks, imagining where she would be, and then I climb back up the cliff path. The ground is dark but here, closer to the sky, the evening air is still dark and red. Elsewhere on Thisby it must be night, but here, we still have a whisper of the evening sun, far away across the western sea. I find her there at the top of the cliff, facing the horizon. Her knees are pulled up to her chin and her arms wrapped around them. She looks like she has grown from the rocks and dirt around her. Though she hears my footsteps, her eyes keep searching the sea. I draw myself up next to her and look at her profile, making no effort to disguise my attention, here, where there is only Puck to see me. The evening sun loves her throat and her cheekbones. Her hair the color of cliff grass rises and falls over her face in the breeze. Her expression is less ferocious than usual, less guarded. I say, “Are you afraid?” Her eyes are far away on the horizon line, out to the west where the sun has gone but the glow remains. Somewhere out there are my capaill uisce, George Holly’s America, every gallon of water that every ship rides on. Puck doesn’t look away from the orange glow at the end of the world. “Tell me what it’s like. The race.” What it’s like is a battle. A mess of horses and men and blood. The fastest and strongest of what is left from two weeks of preparation on the sand. It’s the surf in your face, the deadly magic of November on your skin, the Scorpio drums in the place of your heartbeat. It’s speed, if you’re lucky. It’s life and it’s death or it’s both and there’s nothing like it. Once upon a time, this moment — this last light of evening the day before the race — was the best moment of the year for me. The anticipation of the game to come. But that was when all I had to lose was my life. “There’s no one braver than you on that beach.” Her voice is dismissive. “That doesn’t matter.” “It does. I meant what I said at the festival. This island cares nothing for love but it favors the brave.” Now she looks at me. She’s fierce and red, indestructible and changeable, everything that makes Thisby what it is. She asks, “Do you feel brave?” The mare goddess had told me to make another wish. It feels thin as a thread to me now, that gift of a wish. I remember the years when it felt like a promise. “I don’t know what I feel, Puck.” Puck unfolds her arms just enough to keep her balance as she leans to me, and when we kiss, she closes her eyes. She draws back and looks into my face. I have not moved, and she barely has, but the world feels strange beneath me. “Tell me what to wish for,” I say. “Tell me what to ask the sea for.” “To be happy. Happiness.” I close my eyes. My mind is full of Corr, of the ocean, of Puck Connolly’s lips on mine. “I don’t think such a thing is had on Thisby. And if it is, I don’t know how you would keep it.” The breeze blows across my closed eyelids, scented with brine and rain and winter. I can hear the ocean rocking against the island, a constant lullaby. Puck’s voice is in my ear; her breath warms my neck inside my jacket collar. “You whisper to it. What it needs to hear. Isn’t that what you said?” I tilt my head so that her mouth is on my skin. The kiss is cold where the wind blows across my cheek. Her forehead rests against my hair.

~ Excerpt from ‘The Scorpio Races’ by Maggie Stiefvater

[fashiontrendin-blog]

Why Read Your Horoscope When You Can Read Your Whole Birth Chart?

http://fashion-trendin.com/why-read-your-horoscope-when-you-can-read-your-whole-birth-chart/

Why Read Your Horoscope When You Can Read Your Whole Birth Chart?

This birth chart how-to was originally published in May of 2017, shortly before astrology-mania reached its peak altitude, which now hovers somewhere between 50,000 feet and Pluto. We figured it was time for a refresh. If you’re tired of skipping over the part of your horoscope that waxes poetic about the implications of your rising sign, learn how to read your full birth chart below.

I

 love astrology. I couldn’t care less if it’s “accurate.” It’s fun and harmless. And, as an ever-prideful Leo, there are few things I enjoy more than reading about myself on the internet. In fact, I spent the better part of my spring 2015 college lectures educating myself on astrology’s origins and nuances because I couldn’t get enough.

When my interest blossomed into a blog, Bossy Planets (where I eventually garnered hundreds of questions a day), I was surprised to learn that many of my fellow horoscope enthusiasts knew little of their astrological cocktails. You know, like the planets and houses and asteroids that bubble beneath the surface of the basic zodiac wheel. That’s probably because you can’t determine your full natal chart with your birth date alone. There are many websites (like this one) that will calculate it for you — but you need your exact time and city of birth. It’s worth the extra effort though, trust me. Natal charts delve far deeper into your psyche than your average weekly horoscope, dissecting various celestial placements at the time of your birth to give you a fuller idea of how they may affect your personality. Once I studied mine, I was hooked.

I’m not sure where you fall on the astrology spectrum. Maybe you think it’s dumb, maybe you read it every week just in case, maybe you consult the stars on what to eat for breakfast. Regardless of your level of interest, a full natal chart reading is an interesting canvas on which to explore your personality. If you’re one of those people who never felt understood by your sun sign, who knows? Maybe you’ll find you relate more to other aspects of your zodiac. Below, I’ve broken down the guiding principles of astrology to help you read your full chart. It’s a starter kit, if you will, complete with all the vagaries and self-indulgent details that make astrology so appealing to begin with.

The Sun Sign

The 12 zodiac constellations — observed and used in Ancient Rome, though their origins can be traced even earlier — are positioned along the “path” of the sun as seen from Earth. Your sun sign is determined by which zodiac constellation is behind the sun on the date of your birth. This is the one you no doubt already know; the most commonly known and important aspect of your birth chart. Essentially, your sun sign speaks to your most basic identity. It represents your ego, your daily actions, the dynamic expression of your will.

As a Leo, I would describe myself as outspoken, creative and affectionate. Although my sister would say I’m basically an “emo lion” and an anonymous user on Tumblr once used the phrases “obsessed with yourself,” “curious bugger” and “somewhat of an outcast.” Take that as you will.

The Elements

There are four elements in the zodiac, between which the 12 zodiac signs are split evenly (so, three each). These three are believed to be most compatible with each other due to their commonalities and shared values.

Fire Signs (Aries, Leo and Sagittarius) are known for their passion, confidence and strong gut instincts. Water Signs (Cancer, Scorpio and Pisces) are the most sensitive, idealistic and kind. Air Signs (Gemini, Aquarius and Libra) are typically the most communicative, social and open-minded. Earth Signs (Taurus, Capricorn and Virgo) are renowned for their practicality, stability, realism and persistence.

Elements tend to paint the signs with broad strokes, but they’re fun to think about when analyzing your friend, family and romantic relationship dynamics. (As a fire sign, I find I gravitate more towards air signs.)

The Moon Sign

Arguably, your moon sign is just as important as your sun sign. It’s determined by which zodiac constellation the moon was in at your exact time of birth. Your moon sign speaks to your emotional nature and inner self. It tends to reflect your personality when you’re alone — or deep within your comfort zone. It’s considered more feminine and reflects your relationships with important women in your life. So next time you’re eating chips in bed, spiraling down a conspiracy theory YouTube rabbit hole and crying on the phone with your mom, maybe blame your moon sign.

Also, some believe your moon sign is more accurate in predicting the root of your subconscious thoughts than your sun sign. My Gemini moon has given me comfort whenever I’ve felt misunderstood, because this placement is often characterized as having complex and valuable inner monologues.

The Houses

Okay. Houses. Have you ever heard someone say something like, “Mars is in your third house”? They’re referring to which slice of the sky Mars was in at the time of your birth. The house system divides the sky into 12 sections and, depending on which planets and constellations fall into which sections when you were born, provide insight into specific areas of your life. Your first house is determined by which zodiac constellation was rising on the eastern horizon at the exact moment you were born, which is why both time and location of your birth are needed to determine it. The rest of your houses count up sequentially from there. Sites like this one can provide these visuals for your chart!

Here’s what each of the houses might tell you about your personality and life:

1. The First House represents self-image 2. The Second House represents money and finances 3. The Third House represents close platonic relationships and our immediate environments 4. The Fourth House represents family and childhood 5. The Fifth House represents self-expression, creativity and entertainment 6. The Sixth House represents work and health 7. The Seventh House represents marriage and long-term partnerships 8. The Eighth House represents both transformation and sexuality 9. The Ninth House represents belief systems and faith 10. The Tenth House represents careers and responsibility 11. The Eleventh House represents aspirations and personal goals 12. The Twelfth House represents privacy, secrets and karma

If your head is spinning right now, just pay attention to your first, fourth, seventh and tenth house. They’re typically given more weight.

The interesting thing about houses is they may reveal or confirm your strengths and weaknesses. When I learned that Aries was in my second house, for example, I wasn’t surprised. Aries is a sign characterized by ambition, passion and volatile emotion, and when it’s in my second house, which represents money and finances, it makes sense that I’m very career-minded and feel that my money needs to be self-made. It also makes sense that I fall victim to impulsive spending (shout-out to my unnecessary — but also necessary — shoe purchase a week ago). Oops.

The Rising Sign

A quick word on your rising sign. Also known as “the ascendant,” your rising sign is the zodiac constellation that falls into your first house. It’s the most fickle and difficult to nail down — you may get different results if you shift your birth time even a few minutes. Many astrologists say this one is your third most important placement, after your sun and moon signs. As mentioned, your ascendant represents your public identity. It can often manifest in your clothing or really any decisions related to your outward-facing identity (such as hair color, piercings or overall style). It also might symbolize how you respond to your immediate surroundings and your attitude towards everyday life.

For me, learning my rising sign made me feel emboldened to get a septum piercing — even though my friends said it’d be too “weird” — because my Aquarius ascendant is defined by individuality and often rebellious style choices.

 The Planets

Some argue that planets are even more important than houses. In the process of their orbits, planets move in and out of the zodiac constellations, lingering in some much longer than others, depending on the speed and size of their orbits. When you’re born, imagine the night sky freezing in place. Which planets are in which constellations? The answer will help you read into your personality even more.

The Inner Planets

Mercury, Venus and Mars are called the inner planets due to their changeability and closeness to Earth. For that reason, precision with your birth place and time is far more important for these. The signs that fall within the inner-planet placements dictate your core personality traits, needs and desires.

Mercury is the planet of communication, so determining where it is when you’re born will tell you something about how you learn and converse. For instance, those with earth signs in Mercury (Taurus, Capricorn, Virgo) will likely be very reasonable, observant people. Those with air signs in Mercury (Gemini, Aquarius, Libra) are most effective communicators when writing and public speaking. Fire signs in Mercury (Aries, Leo, Sagittarius) are passionate and sometimes hot-headed in arguments. Water signs in Mercury are highly emotional and likely to avoid confrontation.

Venus — named for the Roman Greek goddess of love, Aphrodite — rules a person’s love life. It speaks to the ways in which you express affection, what you look for in a partner and generally what you find attractive.

Mars is the planet of conflict, aggression and action. It represents the physical expression of your initiative and drive — often applicable to both your sex life and ambition in business — and speaks to the ways you channel desire and anger, particularly for those with fire signs in Mars. (My Mars placement often reminds me to reflect before I act and channel the balance-seeking energy of the Libra sign.)

Your inner planet placements may appear contradictory, but that’s part of what makes them fun — they delve into our own contradictions, too. For example, being a Leo Venus, I’m a sloppy love puppy who thrives on meaningful conversation and is generally a bit emotional. My Virgo Mercury placement, on the other hand, seems to speak to a detached nature — like my hatred of small talk, maybe.

The Outer Planets

The outer planets — Uranus, Neptune and Pluto (RIP) — have the longest and widest orbits, which makes them generational placements. People born within a few years of you will likely have the same placements for all the outer planets, which makes them less consequential in each individual person’s chart. The longest an outer planet will stay in the same sign is about 15 years.

Uranus rules change, Neptune rules dreams, Pluto rules power. Your placements can suggest what you work towards in these areas throughout your life. For those around my age — 21 and smack-dab in the middle of Generation Y — you’ll find both your Uranus and Neptune placements in Capricorn, indicating a strong inclination towards equality and social justice. Feel free to use that as a counter-argument the next time someone tells you millennials are useless.

The Social Planets

Jupiter and Saturn are sometimes called the social planets because their orbits are wider and longer than those of the inner planets, but smaller and shorter than those of the outer planets. They represent and influence how people relate to society.

Jupiter is the planet of luck, education and growth. The Jupiter placement is also seen as very philosophical and might indicate how you feel about religion.

Saturn is is all about limitations and boundaries. The Saturn placement can help reveal what you need to overcome and the restrictions you might encounter along the way — especially earlier in life.

For me, having Sagittarius in Jupiter, a restless sign, probably means I should travel more (I’m not complaining). An analysis of my Saturn placement, Pisces, known for its isolationist tendencies, might encourage me to take more risks with collaboration.

A truly comprehensive and in-depth birth chart interpretation requires research, instinct, time and resources. The details are important — even twins may find that some placements can shift within minutes. That said, you’ll rarely find two astrologists who tell you the exact same thing, because the world and the cosmos and all the people who exist within them are ever-changing and dynamic. It is important to remember, though, that these charts are designed to provide descriptions and possibilities, not absolutes. I’ve found that interpreting my chart has led me to a greater sense of self-understanding. At times, it’s given me confidence in my decisions. I’ve made it my own. Astrology should be used as a tool to enhance our lives, not dictate them.

Feature collage by Emily Zirimis, inserted collages by Maria Jia Ling Pitt.