April-December

Demon Rearing by @beansmakesthings

Mira thankfully has plenty of long sleeves in her closet; she runs cold. But of course, there are no high collars. Mira has such an elegant neck; there's no reason for her to hide it. Rumi has to rummage through the winter closet for a sufficiently light scarf. It's going to be a challenge in this heat. 

It's okay. Rumi loves a challenge. 

She's just finished covering everything when there’s a frantic knock on the door. 

“Rumi,” her own voice says urgently. Fuck, that's weird. “Rumi? Are you in there? Are you okay?”

“I'm okay!” she calls in Mira’s lovely, luxurious voice. Fucking weird. But also nice. “You can come in.”

Rumi's body spills into the room, with Mira’s effortless feline grace. The relief is crystal clear in her own face. And then Rumi is being swept up and squeezed firmly in her own arms. It’s—kinda nice. 

Rumi laughs. It sounds so good in Mira’s voice. “Hi. I'm okay. You okay?”

Mira nods against Rumi's neck, and Rumi feels an inappropriate surge of delight at being taller. “You run so fucking hot,” Mira grumbles, still holding on tight. “How are you not dying in these sleeves?”

Rumi takes a breath. The patterns are on her. They're in her. They're a mark of her inhumanity, her inherent corruption. 

No matter her current form, they shouldn't be on Mira. 

Rumi forces herself to laugh again. “Sorry. I guess I have weird temperature regulation. Wanna grab something from here?”

Mira lets her go with clear reluctance. Rumi feels guiltily gratified. 

“You used to have normal summer shit too,” Mira complains as she raids her own closet. 

“Yeah, I donated them, sorry.”

“Hm.” Mira shoots her an assessing look. “Can I..?” She gestures at herself. 

“Oh! Yes, of course! Let me—should I turn around?”

Mira’s look turns condescending. “It’s your fucking body.”

Rumi makes herself laugh again. “Haha. Right.” She doesn't look away as Mira peels Rumi's sleep shirt off Rumi's body. 

Except—it isn't. Rumi’s body. It has never looked like that, not ever. Smooth and clear and unmarked. Human, human, human.

So much more right, under Mira’s stewardship. 

She wishes—

Never mind. 

“That's better,” Mira says quietly as she pulls on a cropped top, and Rumi can't help privately agreeing. 

[ID: a digital drawing of many different animals and plants in a simple style in grey, including opossum, owl, snake, seal, panther, chicken, monkey, bat, turtle, squid, scorpion, frog, penguin, jellyfish, and more. they surround the words "every other being is as real as i am" in light blue capital letters. end.]

Why am I me and not someone else? Does everything have its own "me"? Living beings see from only their own perspective, but we can observe our fellow beings and imagine - what is it like to exist as a cat or an oak tree? They're all out there having their own experience of existence that I could never come close to understanding with human senses. But does that mean those experiences are less important than mine? Maybe from my own perspective, presumably not from theirs.

There was an exact spot on her wrist where Zoey’s thumb would rest when she grabbed hold — to lead her places, sometimes, other times to follow or just to be close to one another. Rumi has a bruise there, now. [...] Every cell in her body that they once could touch — her hair, skin, mouth, even blood — is now gone. Replaced. The skin they once kissed, the hair they stroked, has followed them into death, has been reborn since. Maybe the body forgets what it can no longer feel. Maybe her body does not recall their warmth, the curve of their hands, the map of their wrinkles — maybe it does not recall them ever existing.

They come in all sorts of styles and are cute af. Prices are also all over the place, but I've seen them reasonably priced, especially if they need reupholstery.

For a smaller footprint, there is also the telephone table, usually notable for a shelf that would hold phone books. These often get misidentified as schooldesks or lecterns. I have one similar to the last photo and used it in a bathroom for reading material + toiletries.

I also wanted to add - if you've ever seen a weird little alcove (especially around the entryway or kitchen) in an older house, odds are it is a telephone nook!