fireweed15

After a long journey, a quiet rest was a welcome reprieve—a chance to regain energy, to reflect, to relax. This, however, was entirely too quiet. Yashee had grown used to the sounds of students in the halls and the surrounding dorms, the sounds of instruments and snatches of songs and conversation. Now, with this purple spore… virus… whatever knocking everyone out… Yashee sat cross-legged on the floor next to her dad's cot. The stone floors were unforgiving, especially after being curled into so small a position for so long, but simply leaving him felt wrong. A few beds over, Randy and Raz'ul had crashed on an unoccupi

"Hey, sooooooo…" Magnus looked away from the horizon in time to see Taako wave a hand vaguely in his direction. "What's with the necklace?" Magnus' hand closed around the necklace—or rather, around the thin silver tube and simple metal band hanging from the leather cord around his neck—the memories inside it making the metal burn his calloused skin. "What do you mean?" he mumbled. "Not to get too personal or anything," Taako went on, folding his legs to sit cross-legged on the log beside Magnus. "Just wondering, since you never take it off." What was he supposed to say? That— • • • Magnus' hands flex

The sun was warm on his shoulders, and it was shaping up to be a wonderful spring day. If Ben wasn't still in shock, he was certain he'd be insulted by that. Normally, he'd be home by now, drawing blackout curtains and heading off to bed. Instead, he squinted down at an address, texted to him by Emily's mother, then up at the numbers on the house. They matched. Even if he hesitated to admit it, he'd wondered, fantasized at times, what walking up to Emily's door would be like, what her house looked like, but there were two huge, elephant in the room sized differences between those daydreams and this reality—one, Emily was always present,

It has the coldest he'd ever been in this life, even with the fire just feet away and the thick woolen blanket— He tried not to think about Croach now. His focus shifted to Rebecca, to way her fingers (so warm…!) brushed against his cheek, the way she leaned in— Sparks' eyes were closed, but he quickly found himself feeling little more than dead air. "Oh, Hansel—" Her voice, cloyingly, syrupy sweet, penetrated his thoughts; when he opened his eyes, her smile had a faint, almost knife-like curve. "If only there was someone out there who loved you." The cold that had, ever since the mountain, been threatening to freeze h

The only reason I learned to sew was to take in Dipper's shirtsleeves. T-shirts I leave alone. It's the long sleeves—the button downs and flannels he likes so much—that get tailored. It's not that bad—certainly not a challenge, and definitely not as degrading as my parents acted like it was. Honestly? As long as I don't think about why I'm doing it, it's almost enjoyable. I always end of thinking about why I'm doing it anyway. I don't know what Dipper told his family when the summer ended—it's kind of hard to lie about coming home less one arm. Whatever he said must have been believable because he was back the first

The War had been over for almost three years, and it had been about that long since an unspoken "Open Season" on any Monsters dumb enough or unfortunate enough to be on this side of the barrier had been declared. So far, Grillby had counted himself lucky that he'd managed to find a handful of sympathetic Humans here and there to hide him, or at least offer him a place to crash for a night or two. Unfortunately, on Day One Thousand Eighty-Five of his post-War life, luck was not on his side—not with the weight of his few possessions on his back, nor the way those clouds were looking.   When he was properly armored, rain was a slight anno

It had been approximately ten days since Sparks Nevada had been blinded in the line of duty. Despite the rough start, he was adjusting and carrying on as best he could. He had Croach to thank for some of it, but just as much could be said for good old fashioned self-reliance. It'd been serving him well all these years, and when coupled with muscle memory, continued to do so… "Damnit..." Well, mostly. He could only imagine his frustrated expression as he rubbed the material of his bow tie between his fingers. Apparently, muscle memory alone wasn't going to make this work. Which was fair—muscle memory and sight were kind of equal