falling backwards

Stifling a put-upon sigh, Tommy sets his pen down and looks at her sister. And, he must be honest, something does hammer in his chest, and there’s a momentary flare of that urge to perk up and fawn over her, all bright eyes and renditions of musical numbers. But Lenora’s never appreciated those things, and he won’t burden her with them now. “Hi,” he finally says, a touch softer than before. “Are you still mad about the Liam thing? I did send him an Edible Arrangement as an apology, and I have not tried to fight for your honor since.”

“Hey.” This still feels wrong. Stunted. Distant in a way that you shouldn’t exist between two people who were once crammed together the womb of an emotionally repressed queen. It tightens in her chest, and Lenora had to remind herself that even if this isn’t what she wants, right now it’s what Tommy is giving to her. She’ll have to make that be enough. “You know, I was never mad about the Liam thing. I was annoyed, but if I’d been mad about it, there’d be no mistake.” It’s half joke, half a reminder to her brother that she can defend her own honor. She debates keeping her next comment to herself for exactly half a second, then remembers she’s never really cared for staying quiet. “You’re back from Hungary, then?”

VERENA: That wasn't the question, V.

AMARA: No. Is it yours?

SHILOH: what part didn't u like

SHILOH: was it the 'baby' or was it the murder part?

Galatea is warm and inviting, and Naomi did start to notice the chill in the air, but only because she’s hopelessly underdressed for the occasion. It’s typical of her, though, mostly because she spent the past seventy years asleep and could wear whatever she liked in the dream world, the real world was about a season off from Naomi’s own mental pathway. The sounds and smells of the bustling coffee shop are already doing wonders for her spirits, and Naomi approaches the counter to order herself a mug of coffee. “What would you like?”

Moving inside reduces some of the electricity threading itself through Daphne’s magic, but she’s not too terribly bothered. She could feel that the storm’s apex would come and go with little to no damage  — it would take its sweet time though, yet another thing Daphne doesn’t mind. Not with current company. “Large mint tea,” She orders, already at Naomi’s side and pulling out her debit card before she’s finished speaking. She gently nudges Naomi’s elbow. “My treat, but you can pick out a table.”

“Your family always has the biggest dinners during the season when my magic is zilch. And I get it, holidays and stuff, but also— do you think your parents would respond to a well crafted Powerpoint presentation on why I need to hire a seasonal kitchen staff?” ( @rcncgades​ )

“Well crafted presentation, yes. PowerPoint... yeah, that might be a little too out of their comfort zone. Maybe go with one of those old fashioned projectors that people in 80s sitcoms use to show off their Hawai’i vacation slides. But instead of Hawai’i, it would be please help me.”

NERINA: Why do I have seven missed calls from you?

“and it’s just like, okay, so how was i supposed to know that bdsm wasn’t a myers-briggs personality type? no one told me it wasn’t!” [ —  ❛❛  @rcncgades​​​​​ ]

“That’s very... How did you... hmm,” how to say this without being a complete bitch? “What... did you think BDSM stood for to make it an MBTI?” 

VERENA: Remind me again why you and I haven't taken over this stupid school already.

VERITY: Is

RAE: So, hypothetically, if someone invited you over to eat leftover Chinese food, would that be weird or endearing?

RAE: Asking because I'd like to kill two birds with one stone by hanging out with this cute girl I met and also getting rid of the ridiculous amount of Chinese food I ordered last night.

VIOLET: Personally, I wouldn't be down to eat someone else's garbage but to each their own?

JACK: So, there's a thing.

LEIGHTON: Specific.

But as simple as it is to slide into the skin of her former self, it’s also simple to come back to herself as she is now. Her reflexes never dull, the knowledge of how to quietly end a life never leaves her. It’s the desires that differ, and Molly thinks that may be both her biggest strength and the hardest lesson to learn: the acceptance who she was in tandem with who she wants to be.

Her sparring lessons with Duyen are a testament to that, and some days Molly thinks  she should thank the other for them. But giving Duyen a thank you for something so personal would be a waste of both of their times. Instead, Molly gives the appreciation how she thinks it would best be received. That is, paired with a very real desire to make sure Duyen is taken care of after they’ve both thoroughly beat the devil out of one another.

As soon as their current session is officially over, Molly conjures a reusable water bottle and presses it into Duyen’s hands. Molly can already see splotchy bruises forming on her own knuckles, feel the grim of sweat on her forehead. Business as usual. “I’ve added an elixir this time that will boost your electrolytes as well. It should make the water taste like cotton candy, but if the flavor isn’t quite there, please let me know. I can tweak it for next time.” // @amstcrdms​