orange-rag

Give No Quarter I

I’ve been sitting on this story for a while but without further ado, this is the first part of my Hobbit/Pirate AU. Please tell me what you think :) It would help me finish what I have so far if I knew it was worthwhile. 


Your bones were so cold they felt as if they would shatter. The frigid water soaked through your clothes and flesh as you clung to the splintered slab of wood. Slivers had embedded in your hands as you clawed desperately at the makeshift raft, making your plight even more painful, and your froze fingers could barely cling to the board.

Your teeth chattered in the damp fog as you floated among the wreckage of your former ship. The sky was a full gray and growing darker by the moment as your body grew closer to hypothermia. You knew you were going to freeze to death among the depths and yet what else could you do as you drifted along?

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write your name in fire on my skin

Megamind/Roxanne

AU, soulmate identifying marks

T rating (language and sexual content)


Roxanne’s palm connects with a sharp crack; Megamind’s head snaps to the side with the force of the blow, but before Roxanne can feel more than a fleeting sense of satisfaction (she finally managed to work her arms free during a kidnapping, finally managed to—almost—escape), a burst of pain flares across the inside of her wrist. Jesus, she didn’t slap him that hard, did she? She didn’t want to hurt him, not really, just shock him enough to give her a chance to get away.

But—no—the pain is—more of a burning sensation, heat licking over her skin, and she’s made a pained noise and pulled her wrist to her chest before it registers with her that Megamind has made the same sound, and is cradling his own wrist to his chest. Why—

She looks down at her hand—is she bleeding; did she scratch herself on his spikes or something, and sees—

“What.” she says flatly. “How is—Megamind, what did you do?”

There’s a mark on her wrist; not a scratch or a burn, but something that looks almost like a tattoo: fluid black lines of what appears to be a script of some kind. Roxanne can’t read it, but she does recognize the first mark in the series.

It’s the M-and-two-lightning-bolts insignia that Megamind uses to mark things as his.

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finally found the universal companion gift: a kitten
  • dorian is reluctant about the idea of a cat. what is more cliche than the idea of a mage with a feline familiar? but the little black ball of fluff is persistent. the kitten brings him mouse after mouse, dropping them everywhere. in dorian’s bed, in his favorite chair in the library, on his collection of books he keeps neatly stacked in his room. he is convinced the cat has it out for him and as he complains to the inquisitor about a multitude of things - the cat, mother giselle, the cold weather and his perpetually freezing feet - the kitten just sits by and watches with eerie yellow eyes. the next morning the inquisitor hears about a large decapitated mouse found laying on mother giselle’s bed. when they walk into the library they spot dorian in his favorite chair, the cat curled on dorian’s now thawed feet with a multitude of homemade cat toys littering the space around it. dorian’s mouth curls up slightly as the cat stands, stretches, and lays down in the same spot.
  • iron bull is unexpectedly okay with having a little kitten following him around. i have little animals following me around anyway, he tells the inquisitor one day, gesturing to the chargers as he lifts a large mug to his mouth. the inquisitor laughs, sitting down and pointing to a second large mug sitting on the tavern table. oh no no that’s not for you, bull says, waving a hand and tilting the mug slightly so that the inquisitor can see its contents. that’s for kadan, he says affectionately, and a tiny, striped gray kitten blinks up from where it’s curled up inside of the mug. the kitten rarely leaves bull’s side. krem uses his winged nug plush crafting skills to make a tiny fabric maul they tie on the kitten’s back and it trots around looking infinitely pleased of itself, even though it’s still scared of tall grass.
  • cullen lets the small tortoiseshell cat have complete control of his office. it runs around, chasing papers rustling in the wind and climbing its way up cullen’s trousers with sharp little claws so it can perch on his warm lap. at first it’s afraid of cullen’s furry cloak and cautiously watches it with large green eyes until the commander scoops the kitten up in his palm and reassures it with a nice chin scratch. it purrs the hardest when it sleeps on the cloak at night, but when cullen is reluctant to fall asleep in fear he’ll see old memories resurface, the cat abandons the cloak in favor of cullen’s chest.
  • leliana is uncertain about the kitten at first, with so many ravens and an open railing on the highest floor of the rotunda. but the little fluffy gray cat seems to be intelligent and knows not to venture too closely to either. it watches the ravens with knowing blue eyes and sits on leliana’s desk, observing her visitors regally. when times are uneasy and leliana pushes herself too hard, too late at night, the cat will nudge her endlessly and nibble at her elbows until she comes to bed.
  • josephine is on board from day one. she gets lonely in her expansive office and finds herself talking to the cat extensively. it chirps and meows back at her just as readily, purring constantly even as josephine decides it needs a golden bow attached to its jeweled collar. you look lovely, she says with a smile, watching the kitten wind in circles around her feet. eventually josephine asks blackwall to make a wooden bed for it that she can sit on her desk and the cat spends its days sitting on a blue silk pillow placed in the bed, meowing as josie tells it about her worries and the flowers that she sent back home to yvette.
  • vivienne insists on the short haired white cat with one green and eye and one blue eye. as someone that wears predominantly white fabric, there is no way she can have black cat hair stuck on every article of clothing she owns. the cat pounces on absolutely everything - bugs, mice, pieces of dust, the servants, the inquisitor, the iron bull and his chargers - absolutely everything, that is, except for her. the cat pads after her as she gathers ingredients for potions and spells and when vivienne does not wish to be disturbed, the cat sits at the top of the stairs and hisses warningly at anyone that attempts to reach the top.
  • cole picks the smallest, whiniest kitten who barely seems to know how to walk around without tripping over his giant paws. the cat sits in the food bowl as it eats and cole strokes his head gently, murmuring words to him and offering him a piece of string. the cat seems shy and dislikes loud voices and large shoes that make too much noise on the wooden floors above the tavern. but cole is quiet and cole has calm fingers that know just how to pet the cat to make it relax and purr loudly.
  • solas does not take well to the idea of a pet. he calls the cat a companion, a friend, and makes sure that the creature knows he doesn’t expect it to stay in captivity. this seems to agree with the striped brown creature, who is gone for days at a time but always somehow returns when solas needs him most. the cat rubs its head on the elf when he’s busy trying to solve problems, reading about the fade or attempting to calculate a solution. one day solas is drinking the tea he so loathes and the cat watches his face of disgust. after the teacup is sat down on the desk, the cat looks at it for a moment before batting it off of the surface with a single paw. i thank you for that, friend, solas chuckles, scratches the cat underneath the chin and doesn’t bother getting a replacement cup of tea.
  • blackwall is all huff and gruff as the wriggly ball of fluff is pushed into his arms. he hardly has time to take care of himself between all the bloodshed and now he finds himself responsible for another thing in the midst of war. however, he is surprised to find that the cat is self-sufficient. it runs around hunting the mice in the barn and the horses don’t seem to mind it. the cat lives for the overhead beams in the barn and there doesn’t seem to be a time that blackwall looks up and doesn’t see glowing eyes looking back down at him from its favorite perch. on the nights that blackwall stays awake, unable to sleep because he cannot dissolve thom rainier from his mind, the cat stays awake with him. its tail flicks back and forth as they both stare out into the darkness.
  • sera scoffs. she doesn’t need some weirdo animal shedding everywhere and following her around and scratching up on all of her belongings. sera readily ignores the cat as it charms the tavern patrons and collects chin scratches and bits of mutton from their plates. yeah, you just stay over there, sera finds herself saying as she sits on the roof of the tavern and lines up eggs she plans to drop on unsuspecting victims below. while retrieving a cushion she forgot (because hey, roofs are hard on butts!) the elf hears a cry of surprise and looks out her bedroom window to see scout harding covered in yolk. wasn’t me! sera yells, climbing up onto the roof to see her new partner in crime. and instead of a person or a child (though they were technically people, too, right? just small little sticky people) she sees the cat sitting, its tail twitching as it looks purely satisfied with itself. from that moment on the kitten and sera are inseparable. it learns how to take a piece of food from someone’s plate and leave behind a bug and how to rub on a person’s ankles just as they begin to go down some stairs and sera learns that okay, maybe she likes cats.
  • cassandra struggles to hold the kitten as it climbs up her chest and nuzzles into her neck. she doesn’t see why she needs a kitten when she’s trying to help the inquisition, but at the insistence of the inquisitor she accepts the small animal. cassandra is worried about stepping on the tiny thing as she practices with the dummies in the yard, but it seems to know not to be underfoot as she practices. it also seems to know to meow in warning when she’s reading the latest chapter of swords and shields, so she can tuck it away before someone approaches. the cat lays at her feet while she reads her guilty pleasure, sits at the edge of the practice ring when she spars with someone, and sucks on her short hair while she sleeps. disgusting, cassandra says out loud as she discovers her odd looking hair every morning, but rubs the kitten’s belly anyway.
  • varric finds an orange tabby with ragged ear tips he is told are a result of frostbite. the cat seems primarily concerned with sleeping and even when it’s not sleeping, it has a problem keeping its eyes open and slowly blinks at visitors. during the rare hours the cat is active, it rolls bianca’s bolts around the room and chews on the feathers of varric’s quills. that cat is a pain in the ass, varric says constantly, loading his crossbow with bolts that bear tiny teeth marks. i can’t get anything done with it around. but then he’s in charge of writing identical letters to anders, to fenris, to aveline, to carver… and he’s glad for the distraction, glad for the spunky little cat chewing on the tips of his quill as he tries to write impossible words. varric laughs once at the kitten’s determination, burying his face in the kitten’s fur and letting the tears fall onto its warm purring body.

anonymous asked:

hi! i was wondering if you could write a high school drabble (junior/senior) where peeta is like typical smart, hot, and fuckboy and he always like teases and flirts with katniss in the hallways but katniss doesnt know if he likes her or its just him being a fuck boy and tells her friends and stuff and then they go to a party and make out? im so sorry i know its super demanding and shiz but i really need to read this pretty please? youll make my day! 💖

Never tried fuckboy-vibes Peeta before, but I’ll give it a whirl!


“I don’t know if I want to do this,” I say, holding my finger over the lock on the car door.

Delly just laughs and reaches over the console, unbuckling my seatbelt. “Maybe you should’ve said that before we were parked in front of the house.”

“I did. Four times.”

“Well,” she says, shrugging and kicking the door open, “maybe you should’ve said it louder.”

Even though my stomach is a breeding ground for butterflies, each one of them screaming, Go away, go away, I know I’m not getting out of this. If Delly was determined enough to beat the entire football team in a pie-eating contest, she sure as hell will be determined enough to get me into this party.

Though it’s nearly the end of my senior year in high school, I’ve never gone to any of these shindigs. This isn’t my scene—my scene is and has always been the woods behind my house, the warm, wool blankets in my room, or the field of lavender where Prim and I used to play. But strobe lights, cheap booze, and an army of fuckboys? Count me out. I’d rather plank on a bed of thumbtacks.

Delly knows this, so I’ve got no clue as to why she dragged me here tonight. Granted, this party is at the Undersee mansion—I’ve been friends with Madge since middle school, so at least the hostess is not a stranger—but Madge has thrown others before, when her father and mother were away at galas, and I’ve never been coerced into going then. So why now?

“How long will we be staying?” I ask when we reach the front door, and Delly rings the bell. Suddenly cold, I seal my knees together and hug my shoulders, still not quite sure why I allowed Delly to shove me into this miniature orange rag she’d called a “dress.”

“Kat, we haven’t even gotten through the front door. Maybe you’ll like it!”

I glower. It’s enough to make Delly shrink back a little, but not enough to make her iron-tough smile waver, and certainly not enough to make her give me the car keys.

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List of Homestuck Halloween Costume Headcanons:

Aradia goes as: Aradiabot, wearing pure red contacts, cardboard robot body and has springs and wires braided into her hair

Damara goes as: an Angel, wearing a robe made by Porrim and various golden jewelry and accessories (possibly stolen from Meenah

Tavros goes as: Jack, from Jack and the bean stalk, wearing medieval clothes and has decorated his wheel chair with vines and green paint

Rufioh goes as: Captain Hook, wearing a red pirate outfit and a fake moustache, has summoned a crocodile fiduspawn and the creature follows him around

Sollux goes as: Morpheus, from The Matrix, wearing a long leather jacket and sunglasses, he carries around a bag of red and blue jelly beans, offering them to people

Mituna goes as: Han Solo, wearing a white shirt and a black vest, his and Latula’s outfits match very well

Karkat goes as: a mutant blooded troll, wearing a black shirt with a fake, red sign and has red makeup on his cheeks, it’s the one night a year he can walk around without worry of being discovered

Kankri goes as: Nothing, this holiday makes people disguise themselves to take candy from strangers, these trolls should be who they are instead of dressing up

Nepeta goes as: Princess Mononoke from Princess Mononoke, wearing the white fur from her kills and riding Pounce de Leon, who is made up to look like a wolf

Meulin goes as: Sally from Nightmare Before Christmas, she has fake stitches at certain intervals on her arms and legs and dyed her hair orange, she made a ragged dress too, all by herself!

Kanaya goes as: Rosaline from Twilight, wearing a dark dress and a a long blonde wig, Rosaline the Vampire combines her two favorite things

Porrim goes as: An old sewing maid, having so many costume requests from her friends, when she was thinking of her costume all that came to mind was more sewing!

Terezi goes as: Daredevil, with some applications of red electrical tape, Terezi’s dragon cane is now Daredevil’s! The rest of the costume is store bought.

Latula goes as: Princess Leia, wearing a white dress and a fake blaster pistol, she had to ask Meenah’s help doing her hair in two side buns, her outfit matches Mituna’s very well

Vriska goes as: She doesn’t, she just followers her friends around in her normal clothing, knowing that the group’s costumes will distract any candy givers from noticing her lack of a costume

Aranea goes as: Spider-Girl, she wears the suit, but she can’t see through the mask, at least she has a pair in red and blue, to match the suit

Equius goes as: Goku from Dragonball, borrowing some hair gel and dying an old bathrobe, Equius is ready to go super sayin

Horuss goes in: His steampunk clothing, considering how hot it is in all his clothes, maybe sweatpunk would be a better name!

Gamzee goes as: A juggalo, no one knows for sure if gamzee dressed up or if these are his “fancy juggalo” clothes, while he is dressed mostly the same as normal, he also sports a rainbow tie and red clown shoes.

Kurloz goes as: a Loa from Voodoo religion, when Porrim begins to point out the cultural appropriation, Kankri begins on a rant about Porrim is also guilty of appropriation, for dressing as an old women when she is only 19.

Eridan goes as: a wizard, insisting that he’s wearing the costume because halloween is a time to dress up as a fake thing, he secretly cherishes every compliment he gets.

Cronus goes as: Elvis Presley, outfitted as the younger elvis so he doesn’t have to look fat. It is all secretly a ploy to show any talent agents milling about how good his singing is

Feferi goes as: Ariel from The Little Mermaid,she had a dress split to imitate a mermaid’s tale , she came in first place at the apple bobbing contest

Meenah goes as: The best baker in the universe B-ETTY CROCKER! Carrying around a bunch of Crockertech, she went through neighborhood later that night to smash pumpkins

What Are You Doing For The Rest Of Your Life?

A very special ‘thank you’ to iwouldliketosayhello and wolfkinq on Tumblr for keeping me company as I wrote this at odd hours. Also, Hetalia does not belong to me. Neither do any of the countries mentioned. Get back to me after ‘World Domination Phase Three’ is complete.

What Are You Doing For The Rest Of Your Life?

Matthew curled beneath the bus shelter and tried to ring out his sweater. It was a lost cause, of course. The thunderstorm had soaked through his clothes, through his satchel, through his notes. He was a mess.

‘Clear skies,’ the weatherman had said. 'No chance of rain,’ he said. Bullshit. Matthew should have known better than to take him at his word.

He grumbled and pulled out an old, worn handkerchief. It was wet.

He used it anyway.

“Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck!” A man shouted as he darted up the street and ducked into shelter. He hissed and shook his hands, splashing both of them. He sneezed.

Matthew disliked him immediately.

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I urge you,
pry the quiet crimson open
under the dying embers of the
blood orange sky.

Ragged words expelled
in a breathless arrhythmic pause,
coating the ridges of our raw
and urgent tongues.

We must intertwine,
lip upon lip,
soul upon soul,
to know the truth behind these opal eyes.

Search for me here,
blindly and recklessly,
burn your edges on the fiery passion
growing like wildfire in our maws.

My lips shall not object
to your blue and thirsty flame,
trapping infinite moments in time.

We must intertwine,
we must intertwine.

—  Rebecca C. 
Text / Steve & James
  • Steve: You know what I can't get used to?
  • Steve: The TV never goes off.
  • Steve: Got this guy selling these orange rags right now that can mop up a bucket of water and I wanna buy some.

‘When the tray is clear of hard crackers and bean paste, Furiosa takes up the orange. She passes it into the cradle of her left hand and pierces the skin with her thumb, sharp citrus scent spraying out along with a fine mist as she works the corner of her thumb under the thick hardy skin of the orange. She peels the orange and white flesh off in inch long chunks, setting them back on the tray. Eventually she gets to the point she can wiggle a segment free, setting it down on the corner of the tray closest to him.

“Save the seeds.”

There’s no hesitation, no reverence for it. He picks it up, sets it between his teeth and crushes it. Cool, soft shape and sweet like a season that doesn’t exist anymore. Too far removed from the bitter taste of lemons and limes that had brought brought him back here once, but a luxury all the same. He’s careful though - about picking the seeds off his tongue and piling them on the corner of the tray. She keeps peeling and says, “I’m thinking about walkways. Between the towers,” while she does it.

He hums low. Ambivalent edge. Not his tower, not his place to say one way or another. But– "Settlement in the south on a hill in a crater.” He picks a seed from his teeth. “Two bridges. Burn them down when raiders come.” There are underground tunnels in the Citadel connecting the towers, but those could be collapsed too. Dirty work, made trouble on the back end for rebuilding and refitting, but better that than getting taken and gutted.

Furiosa makes an equally low noise in response, small shake of her head as she sets another slice of orange on his tray. “Opposite. We need them up. The other two towers have the people, but the water pump is here, which means the food is here. This place is made to withstand sieges, but anyone stuck in that tower won’t last longer than two weeks.” She lets out a breath, a huff of a sound, cool finally starting to sink in through the rag around her neck, prickling damp trails down her skin. Takes another one of the orange slices, bites it in two with a click of teeth. “It doesn’t matter. We don’t have the manpower for it now.”

Mm. So a different kind of puzzle then. He chews his way through another gentle slice of orange, tucks his filthy rag on the edge of the bucket. Sucks the citrus taste from his fingers. Too few people and the amount of metal needed to run a line between the towers would be incredible. Not a waste if the walkways did their job, but–

His chin comes up by a degree, eye line sliding to the small hole of a window in the stone wall. Tang of fresh air coming through. A stray thought, chasing it down hard as his thumb and forefinger slip from his mouth. Glances back - to her disappearing stack of orange pieces. Takes another, but just hovers there.

“Could run a cable. A chain.” Not so different from the ones that had been used or maybe still were to ferry the cars up and down. “Weld a compartment. Big basket.” And turns his hand so the orange slice is nestled in the curve of his palm. Shifts his hand over from her tray to his. Sets the orange down.

Less efficient than a walkway, but would take less gear to build. Just need a motor to run the chain. Would use fuel, wouldn’t work for as many people at once, but might be harder to hit from the ground too. Impossible maybe, at that range.

She’s looking at the orange on his tray, focus like a knife. Reaching out, she takes it up slowly - then starts speaking, just as slowly, just as deliberate: “We could run it using the windmills, maybe, but the wind up that high would-” she stops herself, sudden and sharp, fingers still on the soft warming flesh, “Oh. Two chains. One above, one below.”

She turns the orange segment in her hand as she says it, thumb and middle finger on either end, held vertical and steady. Her eyes flash to his quick, and the breath she takes sounds like something close to the feeling of the open road under the pedal of a rig. High thrum of victory.

There’s a kind of satisfaction for it, for the gentle quirk of the corner of her mouth. His own mouth softens, line of his brow easing - presses the stray orange slice between his teeth and sucks it dry. Swallows and doesn’t think very hard about the mechanics of how to lean into her space when he does it, just does: chin shifting up for the height she has over him, angle of his shoulder dropping. Doesn’t actually shift close enough to touch her, to bump his forehead at her temple or breath at her skin, but the space is perceptively narrowed all the same, punctuated by the easy line of his arm and wrist set on the table edge between them.

She doesn’t break her gaze away from him. Rather she closes the distance easy, pushing the tray back on the work table with a scrape. He can smell the grit on her skin, tang of oil and as she dips her chin to press her lips, light and easy against his. Tastes sharp and open like the citrus of the orange instead of anxious and twisted into knots. Tastes like the solid line of a gun, like the hum of a tuned engine. She breathes out through her nose and he feels it in the hairs of his beard. Feels it like a knot unraveling–…’

2. Slumber Party!

After receiving her third consecutive Best Photo, Lenox hears word that she will get an unspecified Tyra Treat that she can share with two other models. Lenox chooses Shei and Raelia; Will is upset about being left out even though he talks crap about how he’s going to take Lenox down in nearly every confessional. 

Adam doesn’t make a stink about not getting chosen because he has his heart set on drinking anyway. No, really, the recently departed Matthew even leaves the house a note that asks “Adam and anyone else drinking tonight” to pour one out for him. Evidently, Adam drinking is still a given.  

Frankly, all of them act like they’re drunk when they hear a knock at the door. You can clearly see someone in cupcake pajamas through the window, but that doesn’t stop the models from speculating they are about to be murdered. If only! Unfortunately, the audience isn’t that lucky.

The mysterious figure lets himself in and it's… just Miss J with hair rollers in his hair. He’s here to give Lenox and her friends some pointers on their walks. 

Shei doesn’t need tips because she’s a boss walker. Raelia, however, worries that her walk is “too sexy.” Miss J promises that it’s not too sexy, her problem is that her walk looks like this:

I dunno, seems pretty sexy to me. I’m not the only one who got a boner during this scene, right?

Sadly, Lenox promptly kills that boner by being her usual unsexy self yet again. Miss J tries to loosen her up by getting her to twerk and Lenox is having none of it. Lenox seems like that one kid at the sleepover who calls her mom to come pick her up early the moment someone utters “truth or dare.”

This lack of participation comes back to haunt her at panel when Tyra learns that Lenox still isn’t comfortable with her sexuality. This time around, there was no use for Tyra to give Lenox a low enough score to send her home since she’d just automatically come right back thanks to her lofty social media scores, but mark my words, Lenox is going to get eliminated down the road for refusing to skank it up and it’s going to be super awkward. 

Until then, though, we get onesies! I gotta say, I don’t mind the sight of the models leaping around in pajamas  If anything, I’m surprised the PJs don’t have Tyra’s face plastered all over them like everything else in the house. Anyway, Lenox looks adorable with rubber duckies, as does Will in his nautical snuggie. The only one I don’t approve of is Keith’s getup, since he looks like he’s a convict in that red-orange jumpsuit and do-rag. Oh well, at least they didn’t dress him up like a stripper/fireman… yet.

4 Funniest Moments from ANTM Cycle 21 Episode 9

Lost World - DP

Could sorta-kinda be seen as a sequel to ‘The Wall’, as that’s what was requested but… it isn’t really.  Reading the other fic first is not necessary to understand this one.  It’s probably more fun if you don’t.

Warnings.  You know, the usual for me.  I wasn’t going to post it for reasons you will find out, but then Chrissy gave me permission.  Blame her.

.

Danny woke up feeling luxuriously warm and comfortable.  It was rather unique feeling since the accident some three years ago, for him to wake up feeling anything but cold panic over what happened while he was asleep.  And for it to happen during the summer when he had nothing better to do but sleep? 

He stretched, rolling over and refusing to open his eyes or do anything other than lay in his bed.  It was only after a few more minutes of half-sleep that Danny realized that something wasn’t quite right.  The echoing sense of his family deep in his head wasn’t there.  The shadowing feel of living populace of his town wasn’t curled up in the back of his mind.

With a groan, Danny sat up and yawned.  He ran a hand through his hair, resigned himself to not being able to enjoy his morning until he solved this particular conundrum, and rolled out of bed.  His feet almost landed on a small portable ghost shield generator on the floor, humming delightedly. 

“Huh,” Danny muttered, toeing the device.  That explained his lack of sensation; those sort of ghostly vibes didn’t travel through a ghost shield.  His nose wrinkled as he wondered who placed it there – his parents or his sister, home from college on break.  Either would have done it so that he could get a night of ‘uninterrupted’ sleep, although their reasons would have been different.  “I am fine,” he complained to the empty air.  “You didn’t have to do that.”

Leaving the tiny generator humming away on the floor, he padded over to the door.  Now that he was up, he needed to pee.  Then, maybe, he’d curl back up under his covers and enjoy the lazy morning.

The door creaked open and Danny stopped in the doorway, his mouth dropping open.  The floor around the door to his room, safe under the ghost shield, was normal looking.  The rest of the floor was burned and brown.  Danny’s eyes trailed up the scorched walls to the shattered light fixture dangling from the ceiling.  “Um…  Mom?  Dad?”

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Desire

I urge you, 

pry the quiet crimson open

under the dying embers of the 

blood orange sky.

Ragged words expelled

in a breathless arrhythmic pause, 

coating the ridges of our raw

and urgent tongues. 

We must intertwine, 

lip upon lip, 

soul upon soul, 

to know the truth behind these opal eyes. 

Search for me here, 

blindly and recklessly, 

burn your edges on the fiery passion 

growing like wildfire in our maws. 

My lips shall not object

to your blue and thirsty flame, 

trapping infinite moments in time. 

We must intertwine, 

we must intertwine. 

(Written and submitted by beccainterrupted)