The Writing Assistant

The young girl’s parents anxiously pace the halls

Test after test with long nights in the hospital,

The doctors tell them the cells are abnormal

That cutting out the mass would be a puzzle,

But not trying would be fatal

A downhill battle

Fight for survival

They pray for a miracle

But know deep down it will end in a funeral

-

The young girl overhears her parents quarrels

Heated emotions they can’t meet in the middle

One outraged the other has been unfaithful

Dad visits, then Mom – just not as a couple

A room too quiet and fragile

A downhill battle

Fight for survival

She prays for a miracle

But knows deep down their separation is final

-

The diagnosis came as a huge shock

A young girl with little time on the clock

The mutant cells gnawed on her support,

Resulting in her parents’ divorce

She tried to stay strong,

Hoping she would meet an angel

Who’d make her days here less painful

-

After the operation, her strength crumbles

But when the therapy mutt comes on his cycle

And jumps on her bed rails for cuddles,

She can’t help smiling at a spirit so gentle

She’s not alone with her angel

A downhill battle

Fight for survival

She prays for a miracle

But knows deep down this mutt by her side is special

-

The diagnosis came as a huge shock

A young girl with little time on the clock

The mutant cells gnawed on her support,

Resulting in her parents’ divorce

She tried to stay strong

She met her miracle angel

Who makes her days here less painful

-

The disease robbed her childhood and her parents’ livelihoods,

But failed to overcome someone as innocent as a mutt

With her miracle mutt resting on her chest,

she closes her eyes and takes her last breath

-

The diagnosis came as a huge shock

A young girl with little time on the clock

The mutant cells gnawed on her support,

Resulting in her parents’ divorce

She tried to stay strong

Thankful for her miracle mutt

Who made her final days less painful

Person B: “Well, you tried to make out with a tree, spent twenty minutes crying when one of it’s branches fell off, then picked a fight with a garden gnome to ‘Avenge them’.”

Person A: “…….”

Person B: “…….”

Person A: “…Who won?”

Part 2: Logan

The swap. Every time the earth revolved around the sun, everyone swapped bodies. It was as simple as that. It was normal. It was how life was supposed to be.

And quite frankly, Logan Rubix loved it. The only person Logan had ever swapped with was Roman, his insufferable roommate. They’d made a pact since they were little kids to only swap with each other, and so they always had. And despite the teasing and arguing and not always seeing eye to eye (especially since Logan happened to be the smaller of the two this year), Logan could say he was content. Logan was in Roman’s “first body” this year, or the body Roman was born into. Most people never saw their bodies mature, but because of Logan and Roman’s parents being close and making them swap when they were kids and them continuing to do so, they could see their own bodies mature well. Logan was about three inches shorter than Roman this year, with beach blonde hair, freckles, green eyes, and a muscular build. Roman made Logan exercise every day so his muscles didn’t deteriorate over the course of the year. Likewise, Logan frequently lectured Roman about eating healthy whenever Roman was inhabiting Logan’s first body. What Roman did in his body was his business, but Logan felt connected to his true body. Every year he got to spend in it made him content and happy, knowing that he was… himself. Himself being tall with dark brown hair, dark brown eyes, and square black glasses. When Logan was in Roman true body he wore suits, ties, and glasses, much like what he wore in his own body. But the crooked grin, tan skin and blonde hair never really completed his look. Roman, on the other hand, tried to wear extravagant clothing and makeup that didn’t compliment Logan’s professional look at all. He even tried to exercise to make Logan less of a twig, which Logan quickly shut down. He was uncomfortable enough with people checking him out in Roman’s true body, he didn’t need that in his own too.

It was August 5th, the beginning of another fruitful year. While Logan was going to miss Virgil’s sarcasm coming into the flower shop every day, he hoped that when the shop reopened after renovations (which would be done in two days) that the new person inhabiting Virgil’s body would be just as fun. He hoped Virgil would make his way back to the little flower shop he ran. He always had in the past, even if sometimes it took him longer than others.

Despite being perfectly content with his life, there was one thing that always bothered Logan. Roman was always looking for love, even if he always looked for it far away. He didn’t look at the flower shop, he didn’t look at the apartment, he didn’t look at the flower boxes in the windows, and he didn’t look at Logan.

Which Logan was fine with, of course. But no matter how many times Roman started dating a new boy, Logan couldn’t fathom why he thought love was necessary. In a world where marriage was of little consequence, and love could only really last a year, why should Logan participate? Why should his flower shop be successful? Why did people think romance was, to quote Roman, “a force unavoidable and underappreciated”? Logan didn’t know.

But like every problem and puzzle he loved to solve, he was determined to figure it out.

(I’m going to write all the intros today, does anyone have a preference of which I should write next…?)

Taglist:

“I wanna meet your mom,” Jeongguk decides at the coffee shop across campus.

The veil thins, a gauzy sheen

so close to nonexistence

that I could almost reach out

and touch my fingertips

to the upturned corners of your lips.

I wish my neurons could carry

a message through the air itself

ever so gently, into your mind from mine.

The darker half of time greets me

with a kiss on both cheeks

autumn equinox and winter solstice

leading me away – Samhain, the cloak

and dagger, the gorgon of my dread.

I have no pride, no price. Just barely

subsisting off the dregs of your love

self-abasing even as I beg for more.

Just an appreciation post for my boyfriend, Ian. I’m sure he’ll this one, I think he is being notified to all the stuff i’m doing here (talking about creepy) lol joke. Anways babe, I love you.

I know I’ve said before that we should just be lowkey and we should keep things private as much as possible but sharing here my feelings for you here on tumblr, the site where we first met, is within my safe place. Of course, this is where we started. This is how we went to just being strangers, then friends, to being in a relationship. Very millenial.

Person A: *covered in ash and rubble, hair is on fire* Hi!

I know nobody asked me for Blackwall x Trevelyan angst, but I did it anyway.  Apparently I can’t write fluff right now, so here’s some mid-way through Revelations my attempt at Blackwall POV angst.  

—————————————————————–

It’s late - late enough that even the most hardened revellers have long since stumbled from the Herald’s Rest and retreated to their beds.  The moon is well past its peak, though still bright enough to dull the stars that scatter the mostly clear sky.  It casts an eerie spotlight across the deserted lower courtyard, illuminating nothing more than the rustling leaves of trees that seem caught in an eternal autumn.  Silence reins, save for the occasion shifting of horses in their stalls on the barn’s lower level, and the rhythmic footfalls of patrolling soldiers on the battlements above.    

Thom Rainier - that is who he is, after all, and it’s well past time to goes back to his old name, to stop hiding behind the mask of another man - he dresses as quickly and quietly as he can manage.  Perhaps he should have run when the noble at the Winter Palace recognised him.   He definitely should have scarpered when the very institution he hid behind as a guise of nobility and purpose became corrupted.   But he didn’t, fool that he is, he clung on to all that he’s made Blackwall with tooth and nail, because, for all his failings, Thom cares about what they’re doing.   Really cares, for the first time in a long time.  And he cares about her.  

But then the news about Mornay arrived, and the decision was made for him.   He can’t delay any longer.  

With every creak of the barn’s aging boards he freezes stock still, silently cursing the building’s desire to expose his cowardice.   It’s a strain to pack while attempting to barely move a muscle, even more so to try not to look back at the source of his immediate guilt, radiating from behind him.   He packs only the essentials, nothing more than he arrived at Haven with all those months before - anything else isn’t his to take.