The Wedding (Groom)

His heart is pounding a million miles an hour and his bow tie seems a little too tight. He keeps casting nervous glances over his shoulder where his friends are gathered in a line behind him giving him subtle thumbs up to steady his wary nerves. This is the biggest day of his life; why is he so worried? The music begins to play and his eyes widen.
Avery he muses as this is her cue to appear.
Double doors open slowly and his jaw drops as a pretty young girl with wide eyes, a petite frame, and a head full of curls steps forward escorted by her father. Everything hits him at once and the nerves are gone, replaced by a sense of fulfillment and - to be cliche - love. So much love. She advances down the long aisle of rose petals as she casts nervous glances his way. So shy. Even without words he knows she's asking if she looks okay. If she's enough. He just answers with a gentle nod.
Her father is crying (heck, he's crying what's the difference) as he hands her off to him and her fingers feel light and dainty in between his. They exchange vows - ones they'd written - and end it off with rings and a kiss that tastes like salt and strawberry lipstick. Leave it to Avery to wear flavored chapstick on her wedding day.
Arm in arm they walk out, beaming like they're the most important people in the world. Well in that moment...they were.

The Wedding

Oh the white and black and red splendor that bursts forth and drips from every crevice in the church. From the bright red roses and bowties to the tender white fabric of her dress, every thing about the day is perfect. Music begins to play softly announcing her arrival like a princess and she steps up to large wooden doors behind which she hears the sound of people rising from their seats just to get a look at her. Her best friends are already waiting for her down the isle in their ruby red dresses and her future husband stands - no doubt nervous - by his best man. She glances over at her father who gives her a teary-eyed smile and she returns it with childish fervor as if to assure him she'll always be his baby girl.

The doors open and she steps out to meet the gazes of over two hundred people with cameras and wide, gawking eyes and lips. Her own mouth curls up into a smile and she self-consciously moves a perfectly manicured hand up to tuck a brown curl up behind her ear.

There he is. In a black tailcoat with a red bowtie and blinding smile he's her everything. Her love, her truth, her future.

Such an emotional man; already she can see tears reflecting at the corners of his endless blue eyes. She can't blame him, even she - a normally steely woman - can feel the strain of happiness about to overflow.

She shifts the bouquet in her hand (roses - seven of them - one for each year she's known him) to hold out to her best friend and maid of honor and they exchange careful smiles.

The ceremony is beautiful - not a dry eye by the end of it - and everything she ever dreamt of as a child. From her dress to the brand new red converse on her feet to her smiling new husband - her everything - it's perfect.

He's perfect.

So I do things now.

Yeah so i do the tshirt making thing now it's pretty cool. I'm on redbubble (fantastic website) and its where you can design things and put them online for people to buy and you get 20% of the profits. of course i havent sold anything because i'm a loser but it's the novelty of the situation that makes it fun! Lets see....i have a supernatural one, an achievement hunter one, and a star trek one. I also got this really cool font that's like minecraft font to make a Mogar shirt... I actually have no earthly idea why i even try but hey. whatever. it's really exciting to make up a new idea. it would help if i had a real editing software like Photoshop or whatever...but i work with the free stuff i have it's cool i shan't complain. also would be helpful if i were a bit more creative....or could actually accomplish the ideas in my head because there's some really cool stuff up here it's just stuck up there forever with my inability to art. i dunno i really want to make a homestuck Mayor shirt with his little badge thing or a really cool Doctor Who shirt....

So this Weekend....

Yeah i'm swimming this weekend at Virginia Tech and i'm really nervous because i haven't been breathing well because we discovered my asthma acting up again and ahhh i'm so nervous. It's a prelims-finals meet which means everything i swim at 6 in the morning...i have to swim all over again but faster that night. aka my 8 event meet turns into 16 events. it's gross. well i'm going to drown because i put myself in the 400 IM (100 fly, 100 back, 100 breast, 100 free) thinking "oh hey that'll be the one thing i'll final in that day because i'm not that fast" and my coach said okay he'd put me in it. but then later he tells me top 30 final as opposed to the usual top 16....which means i gave myself an extra event to drown in...and a long one at that. needless to say i'm not very excited about this meet. quite frankly i just want to curl up under a blanket and sleep but that wont happen because i have to be up at 5 every day this weekend...so yeah. missing school friday is great, but don't worry i'll be getting up earlier than usual and going to bed later. i may cry while i drown...no i'll just drown in my own tears. yeah. that works pretty well....

Time pt 3

Riegion and I, however, see things differently. I keep this antique clock, not for sentimental reasons, but for the sole fact it’s one of the only things left in the city that doesn’t run off the generators. That’s why I always have to wind it, because I never took it end to sync up with the generators lest I too fall into the haze everyone else has over them. Riegion has a different story. He tinkers and has even snuck down to mess with the generators once or twice before. He knows things even the Mayor doesn’t know, but nobody ever listens to the blond long enough to figure this out.

                “We have to go.” Riegion says suddenly, his blue eyes cloudy silver as they fix above the crowd in an unseeing manner.

                “No Riegion. You of all people should know not to ditch classes.” No matter how much I love Marci, she can be a real idiot most of the time.

                Riegion’s also special. Ever since he was little he’s had the Sight – the ability to see things we can’t see, like pending dangers that are inevitable now that the generators are down. No one knows this but me, not even Marci. Well, she knows but she chooses to ignore it.

                “Come on Marce. Let’s get somewhere quieter. Look, here come the teachers to break this all up.”

time pt 2

“Ave! Avery!” My best friend races down the hall towards me, bobbing in and out of the small groups of people.

                “Marci? What’s up?”

                “You’re gonna want to see this” Is the only answer she offers up as she grabs my hand, her blonde braid swaying back and forth against her back as she weaves us down the stairs.

                Myron is known as the Clockwork City because everything is run off clockwork generators beneath the city which run off Time itself. Here, trains are neither early nor late and the gates open and close at the same exact time every day since before anyone can remember. No one knows what would happen should Time run out.

                A vast majority of the sophomore class, paired up with all the freshmen and a few lingering juniors and seniors who don’t think themselves too ‘cool’ to be on time to class pool outside the large metal doors that block us from the main building and all our lockers. Just like everything else in the city, our doors don’t open except for five minute windows between classes to let us in and out.

                “Weird isn’t it?” Marci stands on her tip-toes, trying her best to see above the din. “It’s like they’re ignoring the 11:35 bell or something. Is that even possible?”

                “Maybe they’re ignoring it because it never rang.” Riegion Vassel appears beside us, giving his twin quite a fright.

                “What are you going on about, Riege? Of course they rang.” Marci has a strict belief in the generators, one of the many who live in a fog that deters them from doubting the structure of our city.

Time

Prologue

August 23, 2057. The day Time stopped his slow progression. The day He returned to reclaim his land. The day the world as we know it ended.

Chapter 1:

That which is given can be taken back.

                Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. The faint ticking of the clock around my neck steadies me as I wrap a sweaty palm around the rusty bronze timepiece and stare down at the insufferable math test in front of me.

                “Five more minutes” My teacher calls, her voice loud above the eerie quiet of the room where everyone’s head is bent over their desks in concentration.

                Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Click. My watch stops its faithful ticking, something I never allow to happen. It’s an antique, one you still have to wind on a daily basis to make it work. Never have I forgotten my morning duty, nor did I forget my natural routine today. Only the end time itself could stop this clock from working.

                Puzzled, I look down and click it open, studying the smooth glass covering the little watch face with intense curiosity. Soft murmurs pass around the room and my head shoots up in sheer confusion. Someone’s eyes are always on the room’s clock at any given time, and when I glance at it myself, that clock has stopped as well.

                “Ladies and gentlemen please. This is a test. If I catch you talking I will take your paper and you’ll get a zero.”

                “It’s just a clock, what’s so special?” Sarah Pippin, your everyday typical teacher’s pet, pipes up, her tight ponytail bouncing on her head with each word.

                “You have…” Mrs. Thompson looks down at her watch and her face keys me into what everyone wants to know. “…two minutes.” Her watch has stopped too.

the things i find

i was looking around under my couch side table today and i saw this strange journal. well, i'm a big lover of anything to write in so i picked it up excited to have something new. When i opened it up i saw a strangely familiar scrawl inside, and the further i went the handwriting changed to...my own. When my grandma was fighting cancer she wanted to write down her story so my mom and i would always have it. So she kept a journal and when she was too tired to write she'd narrate the story for me to write down. It kind of hurt a little to read because i miss her so much so often, but i am glad that she left the notebook. Then again she never got to finish because i wasnt a big fan of writing back then and she got so tired and slipped away so quickly that she never got past telling the story of my moms childhood. I guess i'm getting a bit sentimental now but what can i say? She was one of the best people to walk the earth and this is some part of her. Though i found out through Ma that some people take the ashes of their loved ones and these jewelers can turn the ashes into diamonds and the diamond is blue....that's a pretty unique way of keeping your loved ones close if you ask me. But then again people tell me i'm a little messed up in the head...c'est la vie.

Attack

In. Out. In. Out. One more breath. Again.

My head bursts from the water and I draw another long shaky breath before diving down again. Butterfly is probably my least favorite stroke but I have to make this a good 100 if I want any hope of doing well in the 400 on Friday.

Can’t breathe.

One more lap, that’s easy, right? My head feels heavy and I can’t seem to pick it up over the water anymore. My arms are burning – that’s not unusual – and my legs drag like lead.

12 ½ yards. Halfway back. Can’t die.

Still can’t breathe!

My hands pound into the wall and I gasp an unsatisfying breath that’s followed by a long stream of coughs that make it even more impossible to breathe the longer it happens. The next heat dives in and I pull myself out of the water on hands and knees and people gather around me to ask if I’m okay. Of course I am, this isn’t anything new.

100 free. I have to swim the 100 free.

“Move”. They won’t get away. I have to swim (I have to breathe).

Why won’t the doctor help? I’ve been three times and I still can’t breathe. Aren’t they supposed to fix it by now? Asthma they say. Well. I can’t breathe. Thanks. 

The Art of Dying

Okay I have to give a speech or teach a lesson or whatever fourth period which is RIGHT AFTER my Spanish test (that chances are, I’m going to fail but who cares at this point I already have a B)  and then there’s the choir party during which I wont get to DO ANY STUDYING (I love caps) aka I’m freaking out just a little bit because I have to talk for 10 minutes on sociopaths and psychopaths which, of course, is pretty easy but there’s so much I want to say but can’t because I’m not sure I’m allowed to be detailed and then there’s that little issue where I absolutely HATE talking in front of people like, where everyone else gets dry mouth I become like a fountain and just trip over every other word and stutter until I’m like “Uh…psychopaths…they do the thing…ya know? Yeah…” and then I fail because this school forces us to do oratory projects and I’ll sit here and talk all day on this computer but stick me in front of a class (no matter how much you tell me they don’t care) and I’ll be like a deer in headlights no matter how cool I try to act. So yeah. I may cry a little but that’s okay. And then there’s Squiggs over here who won’t stop complaining about it so what little bit of confidence I built up is now gone. Wonderful. 

Fangirl Life Tip #10

#10 - handling the feels

No doubt by now you’ve felt that crushing, burning sensation in your heart that makes you just want to crawl in a hole and sob and never come out again. Feels. They’re terrible. It’s okay to cry, though. Happens to the best of us. There’s always that one character you love who never seems to be happy or they die and it just rips your heart out.

Take Sherlock’s death. Especially for all the Johnlock shippers, that was a particularly brutal time. I mean, that was two years ago and here we have our beloved Sherlock on a building telling John that he’s a fake (when we know it’s a lie) and reaching out for him and saying goodbye and falling to his death. If that doesn’t hurt just a little bit then you aren’t human.

Or maybe like the Tenth Doctor’s regeneration when you know he had to leave Rose and TenToo behind in the alternate universe and he saved the world and lived but lost his life to protect one man – Wilf. And then he got to go back in time and went and saw Rose in 2005 (the year she met Nine) and yes his last words: “I don’t want to go”. Fantastic.

Needless to say there’s no easy way to deal with feels besides finding a good friend to talk to or maybe curling up in a blanket with a bowl of ice cream and sobbing silently alone into the darkness. Feels will come. They’ll hit you hard. “Normal” people won’t understand. It’s a cycle.

Foreverandalways

Ave

Postcards, Lullabies, and Eternal Sleep

When I was a little girl, my dad used to sing me a lullaby.
hush baby girl
my sweet princess delight
daddy is here
daddy, your knight

never gonna leave you
never gonna go
and if i disappear
i'll always come back home

For years he'd tuck me in, sing the eight lines, kiss me on the forehead, and close the door after him to let me sleep, and even after I grew out of needing him to put me to bed I'd still sometimes catch him humming the tune around me or whispering it in my ear when I bent to kiss him goodnight. It' comforted me and, even as a rebellious teenager I lived in a world where nothing could take my father away.
What a stupid child.
That's when the war came and he established his duty to the "American Cause" as he would say by joining the Army. In full military drab with his freshly shaved head tucked under a tight cap he stood in our driveway hugging my sobbing mom and kissing my forehead and, just before he left, he handed me a postcard to "hang in my bedroom somewhere I'd see it daily until he came back".
The front of the postcard was a place I knew well: the waves crashing down on the sandy shore, but the words on the back made me choke up. In his fine print he'd written that lullaby. It was his way of promising me that he'd be back. He'd always come back.
At least once every month - if not weekly sometimes - mother and I would each receive postcards or folded letters or even just squares of papers. Mom would get some long love note and would go and lock herself in her bedroom leaving me outside to dwaddle about out in the living room to listen to muffled sobs through the wall.
Of course mine would always be the same. The genuine "I miss you baby girl" with some other cheesy dad remarks about boys and how if I had a boyfriend he'd kick his ass, etc etc. But at the end of every note he wrote out his musical promise and i went on trusting his word.
Then the letters became more and more infrequent and were shorter and shorter with hastily written apologies about not writing, short handed 'I love you's' and my comforting lullaby disappeared slowly line by line until it was only  i'll always come back home. Sure I still believed him even with that.
Stupid stupid girl.
A year passed and the letters stopped completely. Naturally we kept high hopes and each morning I would begin my day by staring at the first postcard of the waves he'd given me on the day he left. He'd be back. He always came back.
Then the man knocked on the door with a crisp white envelope that obviously hadn't seen any days of fighting. Maybe it was him writing to tell us he was home? But why would he write? The man introduced himself as a Colonel, saluted us with tears in his eyes, and walked away with a bit of a limp to one side. Battle wound.
Mother read the note first and I knew the contents of it by the way the color drained from her face and her whole body locked up and began shaking uncontrollably like she was in shock. Carefully I helped her sit down and took the papers from her hand. A letter written by my father's C.O. apologizing to us, a compensation letter from the government, and a death certificate. My father's death certificate. In his C.O.'s note, he said that my father died a hero saving children from a bombing. Unfortunately after helping the last ones out he failed to escape himself and no body could be found.
Something clings around in the envelope still and I pulled out a set of dog tags dirty and worn down with age. This was all they'd recovered.
When my dad said he'd return I never thought he meant he'd return in the form of an envelope and some metal. Even to this day there's only one thought that comforts me. Even as I packed away every last letter he wrote me into a box and put it under my bed. Even after the funeral and when I grew up and got married without him to walk me down the aisle. Even after a whole life missing him. Ever since that day I dreamed of angels singing over him. Singing him that lullaby he used to sing to me. Singing and lulling him into an eternal sleep.

prom dress shopping with Avery

so i'm going to jr/sr this year, right? (not with a date because i'm a loser but with my friend) and i didn't know what i should wear because it's going to be a subtle fandom kind of thing. Well Squiggles told me to look up Loki prom dresses and i'm like hmmmm. but that ended up looking at the funny prom dresses because they're fantastic....

yes, gorgeous, look how beautiful

mmhm pooh. who doesn't love pooh.

okay so most of the ones like this are pretty cool but this one?...

spikes. just....spikes. like. perfection. love the color though.

i know what i'm wearing to prom. and there's so many more i may have just wasted a lot of this time just staring at the pictures... but yeah.
also. i'm a loser so there's like a 95% chance that all this me going to jr/sr is just wishful thinking because my old date's boyfriend asked to come to our school and i'm very not happy about that so i may be going with my other friend (yes i have those) and we'll be wallflowers together. it''ll be fantastic man.

Christmas

Annnnnd it's almost Christmas. That's slightly the most exciting thing...ever.

Christmas is my favourite time of the year and i am about to cry because i just want to give everyone their presents and stuff because they're so cool and i'm so excited to see their faces (squiggles just yelled at my run-on sentence but i don't caare) because yes. I  braved Black Friday this year and got most of the shopping done for my Ma which is a first cause usually i'm still shopping for her on like, Christmas eve and that's a tad stressful. I ordered Squiggal'ses last night (she's gonna love it >.<) and i need to shop for my father because he's like the hardest person in this world to shop for because he says he doesn't want anything from me but i'm his kid and i love buying things for people....
I'm even better off on the shopping than my ma. though i made her buy me avengers wrapping paper so now i have Thor and Cap'n America and all them under my tree....(which is the coolest tree ever btw) which has lights all over it, right? Well that's not it. It changes from colored to white and shifts back and forth and it is fantastic. i looked at it, looked at ma, and told her that the tree was my spirit animal and bam it's in our house now. i also decorated my TARDIS with lights, garland, and a bow on top. yaaaay.

Fangirl Life Tip #9

#9-Fanfiction

I guess i should be pretty on the spot with this topic as i am a  lover of all things fanfiction along with a fanfiction author myself. There's this wonderful website called www.fanfiction.net where all of us angsty  young writers bring our stories about our angsty fictional loves and give fandoms what they want: stories. There are three subcategories to fanfiction

• What we want to be canon
• What is canon but we don't get enough of
• What is canon, we get plenty of, but want different scenarios of it

The first point is about all those 'crack ships' who don't even talk to each other but we ship together, or couples who aren't really together but should be and that's where fanfiction comes it. People write stories about the characters we love and the fandoms devour it.

Then there's those couples that truly are together but there's no development of their relationship in the canon show or movie or book and you as a consumer require more insight to them to survive and bam. Merry Christmas. Pick a story any story fanfiction has you covered.

Finally there's those fanfictions for all the greedy little jerks in the world (which i am one of ). You have something and it's completely canon and has pretty intense depth and fulfills any desires one might have for said thing, but you still want more. That's where AU's - or, Alternate Universe's (or the atomic symbol for gold for all the chemistry nerds) - come in.

                   Example time: Say you love Star Trek and everyone knows the basic plot for that is set in stone but you don't want the space family to go gallivanting across the galaxies, you want them working in a restaurant as waiters. Bam. Restaurant AU.

Now there's absolutely now way to delve into all the realms of fanfiction but i can tell you certain key things to remember

• RATING - check the rating before you read. it's like a movie. you don't want to open something thinking it's going to be a cute little fluffy thing and read all about the brutal murder of your favourite character (been there done that it's pretty not okay)
• K - eh you get like, conversation
• K+ - oo maybe a few bad words? not sure
• T - maybe some kissing between characters or language or some violence
• M - (aka 18+) blood, gore, language, hardcore...ya know, you name it. 
• AU's = Alternate Universe = not the real canon storyline
• Canon = true, the author / director / writer of the actual work validated it
• www.fanfiction.net = a great site to go to to fulfill any kind of need.

A Time of Healing

“Take your mark,” Silence filters through the deck like a giant pause in time. “Go!”

Eight bodies fly off their respective blocks and burst out from under the surface of the water in a flurry of white water and limbs. People yell and cheer and clap from the stands and coaches jump and whistle furiously as their swimmers face off in a 100 free. Everyone seems so excited save for one lone girl. Avery Mason balances beside her coach on a set of crutches with a frown on her face. In her mind she’s replaying a conversation between the two of them over and over again.

“It’s a slow meet, you’ll final easily”

“Are you sure?”

“Unless you lose a limb you should place top 8 in a majority of things.”

Lose a limb. Funny. She should’ve knocked on wood or something. A week later the usual dull, manageable pain in her right knee flared into an inferno of white-hot torture that put her mostly out of commission. Typical injury.

“Maria!” Her coach claps his hands together as her friend and usual cohort Maria Benson walks up panting and dripping.

Avery shifts on her crutches as the two start to converse and she looks up in time to see the A final of the 200 backstroke walking out. That should be her up there.

“Ave!” Maria comes over and puts a hand on her friend’s back with a smile as her other hand moves up to her head to pull off her cap and goggles in one fell swoop.

“Hi Maria.” Avery responds in a melancholy manner. She still can’t get over the intense mixture of feelings coursing through her at the moment.

“How are you feeling?”

Avery just shrugs and bites her bottom lip wishing the other would leave her alone to her sulking. She shouldn’t have come here, it’s done nothing but make her feel worse.

“Come on let’s go sit.”

Still shaky with the crutches under her arms and with the deck being so full and slick it takes Avery a moment to make it back to their little team’s seats, and by then she’s immensely more flustered then before. Everything seems to be mounting into one grossly huge finale.

“Ave, what are you doing after the meet?” That’s Pat, one of her guy friends.

Avery just holds up one of her crutches in response “obviously not very much.”

“Well…” He looks at Maria who nods at their other friend Robert and they all smile back at Avery.

“We felt bad about you having to come all the way out here and not swim, so, you want to go out to dinner or something?’

“Dinner?”

“Yeah, it’ll be a nice change from you sulking around the deck.” Pat’s comment makes Avery blush, she didn’t think she’d been that obvious with her foul mood.

“Sure I guess, I mean I don’t have any money since ma just dropped me off here to watch.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll pay.”

For the past three days of the meet Avery has been wallowing in misery and self-pity thinking her friends didn’t notice their pain. Turns out they aren’t quite as blind to her as she originally thought.

The Darkness Before the Dawn

The air is cool on her face as it flits about her like a friend, nudging her as if to keep her company. Vrina’s toes flirt with the edge of a sharp drop off and she thrusts her arms out to either side much like a one-man version of Titanic. Something about dancing with danger and teasing it makes her feel so much better when the fighting starts so this cliff on the edge of her property has been her go-to spot for years.

Always the fighting.

Her mother and father have never exactly been close but they refuse to separate on account of being so deeply in love. According to them, love is where you fight a lot and scream but overcome it and stay together. Vrina never wants to love if that’s all there is to it.

Her hair picks up and dances about her face and she heaves a heavy sigh to revel in the burn of the cold air in her nostrils. Peace. Silence. Out here in the darkness there’s no yelling, no objects launched across the room. Out here she’s alone.

Vrina’s eyes flash open for a moment and she settles down on the ground with her knees hugged to her chest. Her long white nightgown rides up around her legs and flutters around her legs but there’s nobody out here to see anything so she ignores it.

She’s pledged never to love. But that leaves her alone.

Alone is so dark.

A light sparks in the distance on the horizon and she knows that her dad will be out in a little to apologize and coax her back to the house and there’d be love and kindness around the breakfast table until sometime about midday when it would start all over again. It’s like a cycle. Even with all the lights on, that house is so dark. So dreadful. So empty.

A hand slips onto her shoulder and something shifts beside her as another presence appears.

“Dad,” she starts, expecting the fingers to be the calloused digits of her father, “I just need a few minutes.”

“Good. I was hoping you’d stay out here a little longer with me.”

Vrina nearly jumps out of her skin as her head whips around to face a smiling boy with short blond hair and wide brown eyes that sparkle in the mix of dying starlight and growing sunrise.

Trane.

The boy who’s a mystery to their small town.

The boy she swore she’d never hurt with her love.

The boy she loves regardless.

“Trane” She murmurs under her breath as a light blush spreads across her face.

He knows the situation in her house and knows better than to muddy the air with words so he falls silent and keeps his hand pressed against her arm until she slips her own fingers between his.

The air was so dark before, but with this new form by her side they sky bursts into light like nature’s cliché way of sending sparks flying between the two.

He stays there till her father appears and calls her to breakfast and he tags along to sit at their table and keep the unspoken peace that has to occur when one has a guest. Vrina tries to get him to leave when her father starts yelling at her mother but still he stays to wrap his arms around her and hold her as it starts to get bad. And he’s still there when she runs back to her cliff to stare over the edge in solemn silence just to get away from her house.

“Trane, go home. It’s late.”

“Do you love me, Vrina?”

“What?”

“Do you love me?”

“No. We never fight so I guess I don’t.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, Pa said that love is fighting and being strong enough to overcome it. That’s why he loves Mama so much.”

“Vrina.” He turns her to look at him and creases his brows in confusion “that isn’t love, that’s some sort of weird obsession. Like they hate each other but don’t want to let the other go. I love you. I’d never hurt you like that.”

“Trane…”

Vrina never thought she’d get the fairy tale ending her father had read to her about when she was little. Then again, after a month running around with Trane she didn’t. Her father was as obsessed with keeping Vrina around as he was her mother and when Trane asked permission to date Vrina, her dad put a round in his chest and threw him to the birds.

In a town like theirs nobody asks questions. Especially not about a boy with no apparent family.

And nobody asks questions about the poor little schizophrenic girl on the hill. The one whose father went crazy and killed her mom and himself when she was three and was left to raise herself under the strange fantasy that her parents were still there taking care of her. The girl who shot her lover.

Pieces

I don't really understand what's going on right now. It's like i make a decision for my life and i'm content with it and it seems like i'm ready to stop stressing over it for the moment but then bam something comes up and it crashes over me once again. I told my mom that i was going to stay on with swimming through championship season in April so i can have two tapers and swim ready for high school states and win the 500 this year. Well, i was set in that and i was happy, but then today happened.
Let's flesh out this story a bit. We have two sites on our team: Lifetime Fitness on Six Forks, and Lifetime Fitness in Cary. Well our coach is Scott and, when he's not able to come to practice, we get the Cary coach. I'm open to new people, i promise i try, but this man talks down to us like we're two and nearly gave me an asthmatic attack in the middle of practice because he kept sending me too quickly and not giving me enough time to catch my breath. No. That just doesn't fly in my book. Scott's mean and stuff but to a good degree to kick our butts into action. This guy just writes down practice and says "go do it all now" while telling us his life story when we're trying to get some little bit of rest.
On to the point. Scott got "fired" today to go to this other no-name team who has no pool but apparently is going to build us one. We start taper (doing less and less yards before a meet) next week and we have a big meet in Virginia in December that we're training for. We don't have a pool or, technically, a team. All my friends are really a big reason i haven't quit the sport yet, but they say they're following Scott to this new "team" while my mom is making me stay on with lifetime (basically alone) with this Cary coach who, quite frankly, is lucky to have survived practice monday i was so angry at him.
I knew i was probably going to quit in April but i was so pumped for December and then April with our big meets but now my life is slowly crushing because mother wont let me move teams again and...i don't know. Needless to say i have a research paper i have to write, tests i need to study for, and a NaNoWriMo begging to be written and i have no abilities to comprehend work at the moment. Thanks Scott and whoever else. thanks for making me miserable once more.

NaNoWriMo. I mean, the word NO is in the acronym! 50,000 words, 30 days, it sounds pretty easy, right? wrong. that's 1667 words a day and sure the first maybe 15,000 words are easy and just flow, but then you still have 35,000 words to go and there's a whole lot of "no" going on. It's day 19 and i fell like i should be starting a diary like
"Day 3. Feeling great. On a roll and two days ahead of schedule"
"Day 10. Slowing down a bit. Running out of momentum but i think i can pick it back up."
"Day 19. My story tried to die again today but i brought it back to life once again. not sure how long i can keep this up."
i don't know what keeps bringing me back. Like the website is so happy and pumps you up and stuff with its little pep talks and "you an do it"s but i'm 9000% done with this. Though i have to finish this year. i only have 19000 left to go. that's doable, right? I've given up 4 times with my highest word count of 25,000. THIS IS MY YEAR. Granted this crap aint getting published....ever. but just the knowledge that i finished will be enough to get me through something. I'll buy myself a nice t-shirt or something. Or maybe get it bound myself so i can put it on my shelf and be like "Hey look. i wrote that. suck it."
So: moral of the story. Don't. Just. No.

I do the thing where i pour my heart out into this here post about swimming and cry a whole lot behind the screen

I don't know what to do anymore. Sixteen years I've been in the water, Fourteen I've done nothing but swim, and Ten I've swam year round, but what has it come to? For about a year now i've thought and thought and thought, is swimming still what i want to do? Normal kids had sleepovers and went on trips and to parties, but for me it was always "i can't, i have swimming". I gave up my childhood willingly to the sport, but now i don't know if i should go on with it, and it's ruining me. My mother told me we 'need to talk about swimming' and apparently my old coach had a nice long conversation with her about how its "too late" for me to worry anymore about swimming. Well, how kind is that. I know i'm not michael phelps or even the fastest kid in the lane at practice, but it still cuts deep to know that I'm not good enough in their eyes. Then my dad calls me and tells me something i've been wondering for a while myself. "Am i doing this because i love it? Or is it simply because it's routine and for the 'social' aspect?" I don't have a life outside swimming and just thinking about stopping is putting me in tears. For so long it's been my safe haven, my love, but now it's burdening me. I was thinking about swimming through college, but then it turned into up until college, then i said i was taking the summer before college off, and now i want to take my whole senior year off. I keep saying that when i'm tired, i'll stop, but i can't stop. I don't know life without it. I don't think i can go on without it. Sure it's wasting money that could be spent towards more family trips with my mom or gas to go places with my friends, but i'm known for that chlorine smell and wet hair. We've invested so much into this and i just feel like stopping will be giving the middle finger to my childhood saying "Hey you gave everything up for nothing". Mom sat through all those swim meets and booked all those hotels for early mornings and late nights of swimming. It's even getting to the point where the sport is too physically demanding with my bad shoulders, knees, hips, back, and sports induced-asthma. I really want to sit down and talk to someone, but everyone that i could talk to has a biased opinion.
My old coach: hates the guy that i'm swimming under and has done nothing but try and get me to switch teams, of course he has reasons for telling me i'm not good enough.
My mom: for some reason has some sense of duty to my coach of 6 years who just left for californina (the guy mentioned above)
My dad: never been a big person in my swimming so of course quitting is easy stuff to him
My coach now: is already peeved at me for almost switching teams, and talking to him would make sure the whole team knew by the end of practice. Either that or he'd guilt me into keeping on.
My best friend: though i love her to death and would be the best to help me, she doesn't understand swimming at all and has been telling me to quit since we met.
My own self: well i switch back and forth. I need the exercise and i love the competition but i hate having to go to practice every day and i'm tired of giving up weekends of sleep for meets. my own mind deceives me because each time i get close to saying "that's enough" then it turns on me and goes "Well you've done so much, ride it out a bit longer".
I know this is ranting and probably making no sense, but I'm shaking at the moment because this is one of the biggest decisions i've ever made. We've invested thousands of dollars easily into this and i can't bear to think of what itd do to me.I'm already slowly easing back though now that i look at it. I refuse to go to saturday practices and morning practices, and missed practices here and there are making me feel guilty, but nothing a little lie to my coach can't cure. I don't know. I make my mind up one time and then i wake up the next day and say 'maybe one more day won't hurt'.
I dunno. Why can't life be easier man?

theres no rhyme or reason. Squiggles just started begging me for a butt ton of pictures (she has an unhealthy obsession with Robert Downey Junior and then a random Dancing Padalecki in there too)

hello 2 out of the 3 of Ave's favourite men....and 1 of Liza's

AVE-OUT

Fangirl Life Tip #8

#8 - OTPs

OTP - One True Pairing

Let's start off with some pointers from Urbandictionary.com, this unfailing site for wonderful definitions.

• One True Pairing, used to describe a relationship in fiction texts (or sometimes real life) that you want to happen/ think works well together. 
  However I think that Only Tears and Pain is a better definition.
• When you have two characters in a show you like to pair together, and you want them to be your children but also be your parents but also you want to see them go at it but then you’re usually attracted to one or both of the people involved so ultimately what kind of complex is that.

To sum them up: characters that are together either canonically or not that you love so dearly it takes your life and ruins it.

For example: Kirk and Spock have made  my life explode in a flurry of feels, angst, books, fanfiction, and tears.

Like i said earlier, an OTP can be canonical or not, it really doesn't matter, but don't let someone bash you just because you ship something they don't.

Ah yes, Fangirl Life Tip #8.5 - Shipping.

• A term used to describe fan fictions that take previously created characters and put them as a pair. It usually refers to romantic relationships, but it can refer platonic ones as well. (Just think of "shipping" as short for "relationSHIP".)
• The act of pairing any two characters together. Lonely people do this to try to suppress their own loneliness. It usually leads to making terrible (I think you mean amazing) fan art.

If you are a part of a fandom, shipping something cannot be avoided. Usually ships are left out of canon and we're left to make up for our angsty desires through reading fanfiction till all hours of the night and into the morning and crying into a pillow.

I'm feeling in a gif mood today. Let's see some examples of ships that the major fandoms have taken ahold of and want more than anything if they arent already canon:

and why not make it painful because apparently the tv writers love to do that kind of thing

And that is why we have trust issues.

Now that we've explored the world of OTPs, shipping, and how much pain having such things can cause. Because afterwards you're left sitting there dumbfounded if your OTP is broken up clutching a pillow, sobbing, and crying  

Yes. the life of a fangirl is hard, but it is worth it.

Foreverandalways

Ave

Ave's suggestions of the day

• Anime
• Kuroko no basket
• Castle in the sky (movie)
• Show
• The Walking Dead
• Almost Human (Airing Nov. 4th on Fox)
• Book
• The Roar
• Fragments (partials #2)
• Movie
• The Cat Returns (Anime)
• *whispers* Star Trek

Fangirl Life Tip #7

#7 - Internet Friends

Ah the big issue nowadays. Is this person a 50 year old creeper who wishes to take my precious soul and kidnap it for his own devices? Or is it really this adorable 15 year old friend who messaged me once and sounds like the cutest thing on this side of the planet? Tell your parents about said friend and you'll get the same answer: "Don't talk to people online, you don't know who they truly are".

Well then. Do explain the large world adults have of internet dating. Isn't that the same thing? Only we aren't looking for someone to live with forever, we're just making friends with that fun kid from Germany who said hi to us.

Personally, i used to roleplay (see #12) as Sebastian Michaelis, and this girl came and roleplayed withe me on anon as Ciel. Well. Though we don't rp anymore, we surely are really good friends, i've even met her in real life and my mother approves. wow mom, and just last week you'd thought her a rapist/serial killer.

You don't just have to make friends on tumblr, there's also this really cool chat block on most tv and anime streaming sites called Chatango. The people are pretty interesting but hey, it's fun.

Anyways. Your parents will never approve, but even with that i must say some of my friends online have turned out to be really good people who are cool and have made my mother eat her words (I say that lovingly of course).

Don't get me wrong: some people out there are 1000000000 year old men who want us poor girls in a basement, so don't let your guard down, especially if they seem sketchy.

I'm also not telling you to completely go against your parents wishes and secretly hold a stash of people from all over the world, because if they find out they might not be very happy (been there, done that, bought the t-shirt).

Foreverandalways

Ave

Ave's suggestions of the day

• Anime
• Nausicaa of the Wind Valley (movie)
• Kimi ni Todoke
• Book
• Shadow and Bone
• Daughter of Smoke and Bone
• Movie
• Thor 2 (When it comes out. No one understands my excitement)
• Lord of the Rings

Olliven's Escape #4

I crawled to the foot of the bed and thrust my hand under, pulling out a dark black bag stuffed full of things. Like i said, a year of planning. I'd bought the bag the last week for a sum of 500 Republic Gold, the same amount my mother and father made each month at best combined.
It was worth every last coin. There was separate compartments like this bag was made for running away. There was a food storage section I'd already stocked full of what i thought were proper supplies, a waterproof part for clothes and other important things, and a little pouch on the inside that worked brilliantly for holding my citizen's I.D. and what little money i had left.
One of the boys - Kristoffer I think - called out my name in his sleep and my heart froze. I thought i'd been caught at first, and i was about to shush him when he went on and cooed Jamie and Jeffon's names as well before smacking his lips and starting to snore.
A sigh escaped my lips and i put my hands on the window sill, poking my head out and looking around.
Of course the coast is clear, anyone caught out of bed after hours is to be shot on sight, no one's would even dream of poking around out of place, especially in the slums where the police enjoyed showing up randomly and beating people down for the smallest of things.
I had to go.
No. I should stay.
But the government -
But my family...
A war was going on in my head, but i swung one leg over the sill, and then another, and before i could process anything, i was climbing down the wall. The perks of being poor is that your house isn't well kept and there are plenty of cracks in the siding that could double as foot and hand holds.
Dead grass crunched beneath my feet when i landed and i flattened against the house in case anyone had been near by. The road, for some reason, sounded like the safest route because of how noisy it was to travel through the grass. But then i'd have to go around road blocks until i got to the city.
That's where my year of planning came in to help me.
Where that year didn't help me, was preparing me for living out on the streets by myself.
I survived one, maybe two weeks until i gave up and sat down in an alley in the pouring rain with thirteen coins to my name, no job, no food, and no other clothes besides the ones on my back.
That's when a figure came up and extended a gloved hand to me. I somehow knew that if i didn't take that hand, i wouldn't survive. Those fingers clasped around mine and hoisted me to my feet. That was the first time i saw MAD.
To be honest, i didn't see him again until a year into my stay in the refuge. Ave was always going in and out of his room or office, but he never came to see us other kids...

*****

Olliven trails off and looks at Eyrin. "But that's a different story. You basically know the rest. I became MAD's scout, you ran away, came here, the government took everyone, and now we're at war. Such a happy end to a story, don't you agree?"

Olliven's Escape #3

Jamie, the second eldest boy, snorts quietly and turns over, his cool body pressing up against mine. That just made me want to stay even more. With my sister's so...how do i say it?...screwed up in the head, I was the last sane one in the family. My leaving meant that the nine boys were to be subjected to the same future as the rest of the Republic. Oh believe me, that whole year i kept wondering what i could do to bring them along. But with the youngest being a toddler who could barely walk, I figured I best leave them here with the adults. Then i thought about bringing Jamie, my 12 year old brother, but he was far too quiet and too loyal to think about running away. He could take care of the family when I'm gone.
I had a teddy bear named Tay-Bah - the product of my infant inability to say 'teddy bear' - who was my dearest love. He was brown and impossibly dirty, both of his button eyes gone and the string that used to be his mouth hung limply down, barely holding on. He'd fit in my bag, i knew he would, but I figured i'd be better off leaving him here. Two weeks ago I'd ripped open the seam on the back and shoved a hastily written note inside before stitching him back up again. If Jamie was as observant as i thought, there's no way he'd be able to miss it.
I drew in a long, deep breath, glancing at the clock.
11:59.
I closed my eyes and wished my birthday away so i wouldn't have to leave.
12:00. The lone grandfather clock that was my mother's pride and joy clangs 12 times, each stoke doing its duty to fill me with more dread.
I had to go. They'd be there for me within 8 hours, and the earlier i left, the further away i could manage to be before someone came looking.
It was time. Either i grew a pair and ran, saving my own skin, or I laid there and was taken away, which was a downside, but i'd get to stay with my family until I married out.
No. I had to go.

Olliven's Escape #2

Factory District - 2155

The night was cold and stiff, just like every other night, and filled with the constant thrum of the machines hard at work with sporadic gunfire intermixed. It's a miracle any of us got any sleep at all, but after a while all that stuff just becomes white noise in the back ground. Any other night I was the first to pass out, falling into the throes of sleep before any of my nine younger brothers could go and start their regimen of snoring, snorting, and talking; but that night, sleep wouldn't come. I was far too wound up, my heart racing as i stared out that window in silent contemplation about what i was about to do.
The clock across the room wasn't all that bright, but the longer I laid there, the louder the numbers grew, as if they themselves could proclaim my impending birthday to the government.
13. That's how old I was turning. Consequently that's the same age the Republic deems you an adult and you get taken away. A year ago almost to the day I'd seen my older, twin sisters, Adrian and Ariana, who were bright young girls with wide eyes and curious personalities, taken away at the breakfast table. When they came back that night, the light had gone out of their faces and they ignored us younger boys, only stopping to converse in long complicated words with my parents.
That's the day I resolved to escape.
One year. That's all i had, but from that moment on, every minute i had to myself was spent planning and plotting this 'Great Escape', but now that it was there, I couldn't drag myself out of that bed.

Olliven's Escape #1

Central Repulique - 2157

"So what's your story?" The girl with the blonde hair and demanding blue eyes inquires, her tone even and blank like she expects an answer no matter what Olliven desires.
"Pardon?"
"You all have a story. I've heard Xalon and Harlow's, but you and Ave still refuse to tell me a thing." A pause before a sadistic smile forms on her lips. "You're from the slums, aren't you."
Olliven stiffens, his muscles tensing as his fingers wrap around the binding of the book in his hand.
"Knew it." She jumps up on the counter next to Olli and places her hands expectantly in her lap. "So. How'd you get out? I've always heard that the border patrol is almost as strong there as it is by the prison colonies."
"Had some help." His words are soft, more a mumble than anything as he pushes his glasses up his nose, trying to ignore the pesky girl flitting around him.
"Well, we've got a lot of time, MAD says we aren't leaving this bunker for a while, so, tell me your story."
He knows she's right, they've got at least the whole day to get comfy before MAD gets back and sends him out on another scouting mission.
A moments pause as he sorts through things in his mind.
"Sit there and be quiet the whole time. One interruption and I'm done." She nods her head in silent agreement, tilting it to the side in childish curiosity.
"Yeah you're right. I'm from the slums. Factory District to be exact..."

Avery's Journal part 1

Location: Hillside River District, Effran
Avery Elise Mason - Citizen Number: 0435277
Age: 16
Book Issued on: The 19th day of 114.5

The 21st day of 114.5

Have you ever seen someone die? I have. It's not all peaceful and smooth like they portray in the stories. It's a rough and unnatural process full of pain both for the one dying and those around them. My little sister, Rose Lyra Mason, died precisely four days ago. She was playing in the yard, I was on the porch with my little brother James, and our mother was in the kitchen preparing our snack. She had gone around the corner of the house, but I wasn't worried, everyone in our little village knew each other and we all were practically related. What I didn't expect was the soldier taking the back roads after a late night out. What I really didn't expect was the gun he had strapped to his back, to end up pointed at my little sister. We heard the scream far too late. By the time we got to her, blood was already pouring from the bullet hole in her side like a waterfall. She died in my arms that day. She was six years old. We held the funeral yesterday, but I sat in the back while mom and little James sat up front. They both cried, but i didn't. I couldn't. Teenage girls don't cry; Moms and little kids do that enough for all of us. It's my birthday today. I'm officially 16 now. Mother gave me this journal as a present. I must go, James is crying again. Mother's not right in the head, hasn't been since Monday, so I must take care of him until she is well. I wonder what father would've done.

Avery

I'm Going to rant. Be prepared

So it's just not been a good....what, school year(?) for Bailey. School started and then swimming got into its hard mid-season training and now the quarter is almost over so all the teachers are packing as many tests and grades they can into one week and UGH i am stressed. Not to mention that i can't breathe at practice and i constantly feel sick because of the weather. And cold rainy weather makes my knee hurt. Yippie. Well like anything could get worse, right?
Wrong. I'm driving home from swim practice today and its stop and go, people are slamming on breaks and swerving and it's pouring rain, right? Well i don't hit my breaks in time and i rear end this lady. Now i havent even had my license two months yet, so heck yeah i started crying like a baby. Turns out this is the third time in 6 days she's been rear ended, so, her bumper is already being replaced by the others insurance, so i don't know if i have to pay or not. Whatever. Mama and Daddy weren't mad at me, but i don't want to look at a car ever again, that was terrible! I felt so bad about it, but the lady was really sweet. That was about two hours ago....I'm still shaking. Also the person i roleplay can't be here to keep me calm because they're too busy with midterms coming up. Life. Why must you torture me? So of course through all this i have absolutely no desire whatsoever to do my homework...at all. So since i don't have terribly much, i'm going to procrastinate. And yes i don't care who reads this, i'm very open about my procrastination. Now is just not the time.
I'm sorry, i just had to get that rant out of my system. Now i have to go work on my fanfiction because liz and karen are yelling at me to write EVEN THOUGH liz took like 6 months to post her chapter. Gosh. People these days....

Fangirl Life Tip #6

#6 - the first con

So, you've finished your cosplay and you're ready and raring to go to your first con. How do you choose which ones best for you? Well, do what i did and find the con that's closes to your house and go to that one. that way you won't have to pay for a hotel or food or anything and it's probably much cheaper than going elsewhere. Don't take my word as law, but i wouldnt make San Diego Comic Con your first con. Too big, too much crazy, these are the kinds of things where you can start small and it's still okay. People with more 'con experience' may say you're crazy if you want to cosplay at your first one, but I did it and it was fine, so go ahead. When youre there, you should go to opening ceremonies where all the guests are on one big panel and being introduced. It's sort of like the 'kick starter'. Then you have other panels where you can go watch anime, talk to the guests, watch them preform, play cosplay chess, or have your picture taken. Also you have things like the Artist Alley and the Dealers room where you can buy merchandise and artwork done by some pretty talented people.
People will take your picture. If you're in cosplay, someone's bound to want your picture, so stay in character and get over it, even if you don't like pictures, because no doubt you're going to be off taking other people's pictures, and it's kind of an honour when somebody asks for yours.
Another word of advice: go find the people from your fandom and hang out with them, even if it's just for an hour or two, you'll find some good friends. I ended up meeting one person from my fandom, and then another, and then we had a whole entire group on the lawn adjacent the convention center playing games and doing stuff completely not run by the con! Also: if a Terezi or Gamzee tells you to draw on the walls.......don't. the con people don't like that.
And if you have body paint on. DON'T JUMP IN THE POOL. you'll just get all the homestucks kicked out.
Also.....if said Terezi or Gamzee tells you to lick a piece of chalk, go for it, it really doesn't taste all that bad.

Can i speak from experience here?

The first con is honestly the best thing to ever happen...ever. Buy it, sew it, borrow it, just cosplay, you'll be happy you did. I'm actually dying of excitement and anticipation about my next con in either January or May or both. I know i'm going to Animazement (come find me if you are too) but there's a con three hours from my house i may want to go to. 

Yay for being a nerd!

Foreverandalways

Ave

Ave's suggestions of the day

• Animes
• Lucky Star
• Castle in the Sky
• Show
• Star Trek
• STAR TREK
• Book
• To Kill a Mockingbird
• The Grand Guignol Orchestra (Manga)
• Movie
• The Hobbit
• Iron Man
• Miscellaneous
• Just go read Homestuck
• Or watch Star Trek, i don't know why i keep bothering to put these here.

A poem in which a child slays a dragon and i somehow tie it in to the fight between Innocence and Evil. (a.k.a i like to rhyme a lot)

From mountain trees
O'er stormy seas
Either with or wither back.

Slink away
From light of day
And nights that fade to black.

Strong and bold
A heart of gold
Attempts to slay the beast.

Soon vanquished
Sword tarnished
The Dragon takes his feast.

Far and nigh
To catch the high
To reach the brink of death.

Death arriving
Monster thriving
None live to their next breath.

Dragon deep
In his keep
The next man takes his stand.

Just a breath
Welcome Death
And walk out hand in hand.

3000 years
Lives and fears
Expended on the creature.

Adventurers
Explorers,
Mother, father, preacher.

One day
Out the fray
A little child walks

Innocent
Effervescent
All he does is talks

Manly men
peasant men
All who went before

Dead.
Dead.
Not to live no more.

How a child
Meek and mild
Can go and slay the beast?

With his voice
The Dragon's choice
To spare him from the feast.

Angel's words
The sound of birds
So pretty, petty, sweet.

The Dragon chose
He did suppose
This one he could not eat.

Poison drink
Cups they clink
Dragon drinks up quickly

Dragon unconcious
Child victorious
And out he runs quite briskly

Celebration
Exclamation
How did he ever do it?

Never telling
Never quelling
Dragon never comes from the pit.

Innocence
Effervescence
What does it have on pow'r?

Or strong and bold
The hearts of gold
Or every shape and flow'r?

So sweet
Such a treat
Where did his malevolence lie?

Innocence hides
The evil bides
Until the time is nigh.

Purity covers
Where evilness hovers
Thus don't judge the book by its cover.

Angelic smile
Devilish wiles
Lucifer in the form of a lover.

Witch Hunt: the end

"It weren't me!" she cries again.
"A month ago you brought Miss Wheatly on this court, promising me that she could not lie. Do you deny this?"
Jane Wheatly is the blonde haired blue eyed best friend to Maura. The two had grown up together, running and playing like sisters from birth.
Maura's voice is small in reply "I do not deny that."
"And did you not insist that I should trust her explicitly? That her word may be more potent and worthy than Alicia?" this brings about a gasp. No one dares question Alicia's validity, nor do they downplay her innocence.
"Aye sir."
"So is she lying now? Did you lie to me then?"
A pause. She could bring down Jane with her like the lying traitor she is, but loyalty keeps her quiet.
"No sir. Jane never lies sir. Never."
"Take her. My sentence is death by the gallows. Witches must atone for their sins."
"Sir. Sir!" Maura struggles against the men who come to take her away again. "Wait! Please wait."
"Hold"
She's let go, her face burning with a mixture of fury and embarrassment at the scene she's caused.
"My brothers sir. They've done no wrong yet you leave them alone with no mother or sister or father."
"And...?"
"If I'm gon'na die, Excellency, then please don't let them die too. This weren't their doing."
"Take her."
"No!" Maura screeches, her hands forced behind her back as she's pulled away. "Please! Excellency! They're just babies!"
Most of her words are lost in the tumultuous cheers of the crowd at another 'witch' forced off the street. Her last sight before the big wooden doors of the courtroom close is the pallid, ghostly face of a guilt-stricken Jane, and the smirk of Alicia who always seemed to have it out for Maura.

****

A week. That's all the time she has to get her affairs in order. She can't even give her siblings a proper farewell. In that short amount of time she stocked up her accusation to Alicia spilling her lies and tentacles into the very gullible, pliable mind of Jane. Apparently the people think a week is enough time to come to grips with the fact that she's dying at the young age of eleven because they show no mercy carrying her to the gallows.
"Be glad it weren't the stake missy." One guard hisses in her ear. "Hangin' is a lot more merciful than burnin' the skin off your bones. And it smells a lot better too."
Maura only silently notes that he himself smells horrendously like tobacco and beer.
The air is silent when she mounts the scaffold, head held high like a little queen before her subjects, the noose a welcoming little oval for her petite neck. For the strangest reason she finds herself thanking God for being taller than the average girl. She'd seen plenty executions, but the one that sticks out the most is the one of a 13 year old boy who weighed no more than a little kid. He had to stand on a barrel and spent the better part of ten minutes just dangling there since his weight wasn't enough to break his neck cleanly. He had to suffocate, it was terrible.
"Maura Rachel Reiner, you are sentenced to hang by the neck until dead under the accusation of being a witch. Are there any final farewells that are to be made?"
This is a common courtesy, in case anyone wishes to call out a 'goodbye' or 'i love you'. No one ever does because then they're shamed for holding onto ties with a criminal.
The air is silent and the herald is about to continue when a deep voice pipes up.
"It's okay Maura."
There's no face to the voice, a hat is pulled down over his eyes and he's shadowed by the fading sun and the huge crowd. But she knows that voice, it's the voice that sang hymns to her and told her stories when she was sick and in bed. Not a very learned voice, but one that knows the weight of work and a long day.
They'd found him, or he'd heard the news and run home, she doesn't know., but he's here and he can care for the boys. Maura won't go so far as to say that she can now die in peace, eleven years should just be her beginning, but at least she isn't dooming her family by this.
They fit the noose around her neck and she looks up to the sky, uttering a soft prayer as the hangman pulls the lever. The last sight her bright eyes see is the watercolour Massachusetts sky and the sun dipping behind the horizon, bathing her in a warm glow as she's quickly welcomed Home.

Witch Hunt: part 2

"Only a witch would try and hide the existence of her kind." The local lawyer who claimed to be representing the accused poses to the judge and the makeshift jury.
The court is filled with agreeing shouts as fists pound the air. Only recently did they start allowing citizens to participate in the court, but only to make the degree of shame higher for whatever poor girl who got caught.
"Please! Please take her away! It hurts!" Lisabet Fisher cries, her voice heavy with pain and the torment she's facing.
"There's a light! What is this? My God it's burning me! She's burning me!"
"That's the fires of hell. They know she's coming and are here to welcome her home. She's just trying to share her torment with you, drag you down too." Alicia Waters remarks. She's the only one who manages to keep her cool during these things. Rumor said that she had once been a witch herself, but turning back to innocence has rendered her impervious to witch attack. Apparently her time in darkness left her with the ability to know a witch, even if she isn't affected by her spirit.
Maura curls her fingers into the tattered remains of her once warm woolen shawl, squeezing her eyes shut and praying to God and her mother to save her.
"I never done no wrong!" she pleads, literally begging on her knees. Her blue eyes are wide and wet with tears, attempting to harness her childish appeal to her advantage.
"You lied to the court under the promise of truth. You have attacked these poor girls, and Jane Wheatly saw you running towards the woods after dark, clicking your heels and letting your hair down like a madman"
"I never did none of that. If I'm a liar then so are they! Have you ever seen a witch young as I?"
"She joined this court to protect her witch mother, Excellency."
"You have no proof!"
"You are the only one who wasn't affected by your mother's spirit when she sent it out, only a witch can hold off such an attack."
"Then why does Alicia still sit?"
"Alicia has returned to Jesus, she's a witch no more!" A stray man shouts, vying in favor of the smirking, devil-eyed brunette at the front of the 'jury'.
"Do you deny going out after dark?"
"It weren't me!"
"Jane, do you confirm your testimony?"
Jane stops, glances at Maura and falters. She's quiet for a long moment before tearing her eyes away from her ragged friend to glance at Alicia who gives an imperceptible nod "A-aye. I do, sir."

Witch Hunt: part 1

"Witch!"

The cries pierce the air as fingers wag and point at an eleven year old girl with matted hair and ragged clothes who kneels in the center of a crudely made circle ringed with a lone wooden bar to keep the onlookers back.

To her left a row of six girls twist and write, screeching out in pain, only one remaining where she sits, a smirk on her pale lips. Their white dresses are bright and gaudy, despite how much they've rolled around the ground on the pretense of 'witch attacks'.

If one looks close enough, they would see the poor girl in the center shaking, her eyes wide and glazed and fixed on the floor as her lips barely move, uttering her innocence.

Just a month earlier she'd been alongside the group of girls, moaning and writhing on the ground to call out witches. One month ago she'd been on the top of society, holding more power than their town preacher who, though he tried to stop this massacre on many occasions, held no more standing to do so.

Even the judge presiding over the court is resting the fate of 20 women in the hands of a group of girls no older than 15. "Innocence" they claim is what sets the 'jury' above the rest of the people. Untouched, virgin, pure, that's what helps smoke out witches. Apparently the accused had no choice but to send out their spirit to attack the girls, and that's when they were caught.

Maura Reiner had done that duty, sending 3 women to prison and 5 to their death. It was when her mother took the stand that she lost her gall to continue. Elizabeth Reiner was the widow of Marcos Reiner, the local jail keeper. Two years ago he'd gone crazy and ran away, leaving his wife and eldest daughter to care for four baby boys.

There's no way she could sentence her mother to die, that would just leave her alone in the world with a 5 year old, a 4 year old, and two two year olds. At eleven with no desire to marry anytime soon, there's no hope for their survival. So she sat. While her friends flung accusations and cries of "witch!" at her mother, she sat stone cold, her face even and dead as if this was the most boring thing in the world. When asked why she was unaffected, she took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and told what she swore she'd never tell.

"There be no such thing as witches, sir."

Oh did that cause an outrage. Four men dragged her off her spot above them and set her in prison for the better part of a month. The only time she'd been allowed out was when she was taken to the gallows to see her mother hang.

Now, kneeling on the floor, she's at the mercy of the very court she once served.

Fangirl Life Tip #5

#5 - Cosplay

Ah the epitome of devotion and nerdism. Is that a word? It is now. Well, it's pretty looked down on society but when you're a part of that ordeal, it's actually a pretty thrilling experience. Cosplay is where you go and you dress up like a certain character and take on that personality and go to cons and stuff and talk to people. Personally I'm a part of that whole Homestuck fandom and cosplayed that Meenah chick like the little nerd I am.

yeah that adorable little sucker.
Anywho off the embarrassing little glimpse into my past present and future: lets use those fail safe definitions from Urbandictionary.com to shed some more light on the subject at hand.

• Literally "Costume Play." Dressing up and pretending to be a fictional character (usually a sci-fi, comic book, or anime character). 

•  The habitual act of dressing up like comic book or cartoon characters favored by enthusiasts, nerds, and insane weirdos with a loose grip on reality.

• Short for "Costume-play". More or less the act of dressing up as an anime or video game character. Popular among anime fans and teenage Japanese girls

(Disclaimer: i'm being enthusiastically sarcastic with part of that please don't come beat me up in my sleep)


There you have it. Those everwinning examples of the Cosplay world. Honestly. Don't let anyone talk you down. Cosplay is actually really fun and can be kind of a cool thing, not that anyone outside of that realm understands it. But that's beside the point. 

Oh and then theres those people who shame you for buying your costume versus making it. Go on, buy it off the internet. No one will ever know, if worst comes to worst just show it off like you made it and everyone will be fawning over you. Mother Ave is a genius.

Coolkid 

Foreverandalways

Ave

Ave's suggestions of the day

• Anime
• Howl's Moving Castle
• The Familiar of Zero
• Show
• Avatar: the Legend of Korra
• Breaking Bad
• Book
• Prodigy (#2)
• Venus x Virus (manga)
• Movie
• Pacific Rim
• Phantom of the Opera
• Miscellaneous 
• Homestuck
• Go swim. it's a fun sport.
• Cosplaying. That counts.