My Friends Brought Me To Texas. That Cashier Had Seen So Much Weird Shit

my friends brought me to texas. that cashier had seen so much weird shit

It's not every day that your favorite undead space witch returns and beats the shit out of every dude in the vicinity before accidentally summoning cthulhu

This actually shook me out of a days-long panic attack when I was twelve

my french host brother: if you eat lunch in the school cafeteria, you will know what hell sounds like

me, very new to living in a small town: really? wow

~three months later~

me, sitting in this small ass cafeteria eating the best school lunch I've ever had, relieved that people aren't staring at me, but at the very loud 12 y/o morrocan kid next to me:

me:

me:

me: this is the least overstimulated I've been in years *continues to eat cake*

mí an mheithimh faoi na réaltai, an irish dorcas meadowes microfic (461 words)

@euphorial-docx made a post about irish dorcas, and i was tagged in it by @theicarusconstellation. this is what has come of that

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Dorcas Meadowes has known magic from the day she was born, long before she ever stepped foot inside Hogwarts. It lives in the long grass and the rolling green hills everywhere she looks; in the bodhrán and fiddle and harp displayed proudly in the living room; in the clasp of hands and cheers as her people twirl and stomp and sway.

She can hear it now, standing outside the pub while her friends acquaint themselves with the steps of Ionsaí na hInse inside. Even in the chill of the late-night air, Dorcas finds herself warmed by the thought of the people she loves stumbling over a dance she was born knowing. Their laughter enchants her, intertwining with the music of the band and filling the air with love and light and joy. No magic Hogwarts can offer could compare to this.

“You’re going to freeze to death out here,” a familiar voice rings out from the doorway. Dorcas turns to find Marlene grinning, face flushed from all the dancing and drinks. When she makes no move to reenter the pub, Marlene steps outside and wraps her in a hug so tight she’s not sure where she ends and Marlene begins. “What’s on your mind, baby?”

A million thoughts race to the forefront of Dorcas’ mind, but none of them pass her lips. How could she ever begin to explain it? Níl aon tinteán mar do thinteán féin, she thinks, but even that sentiment doesn’t feel quite strong enough. The love she has—for this place, for these people, for the life they have afforded her—cannot be contained by any language.

“I love you,” she mumbles, face buried in the crook of Marlene’s neck. And really, what else is there to say?

“I love you, too. But I’d love you more if we weren’t freezing our asses off right now,” Marlene insists, laughter bubbling up through her words. She lets go of her grasp on Dorcas only to reach for her hand as she leads her back inside. On her left hand, pointing outwards, is a claddagh ring. Passed down for generations in Dorcas’ family, it only made sense that it would someday be the ring she proposed with. A little bit of her past to be shared with her future.

They’ll be back in their little London flat in a few days, a couple hundred miles and a million lifetimes removed from here. No one will play her music there, and her tongue will stick on the days she tries to remember that English is not native to her lips. But they have now, and they have love, and tonight that’s all they need.

She will move and she will grow, but her roots will always be planted firmly in Irish soil.

DO IT

should i fuck around and post a fic tn be honest.