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[just a slip of the tongue]

This was not the direction that Anathema thought her Saturday night was going to take.

Not the part that involved having sex with Chuck. That was exactly the direction that she had predicted her night was going to. In fact, it was at that very moment, going. Rather excellently, she might add. If there was some sort of rating and review system for sexual partners, she knew that she would give her handsome Australian friend rave reviews.

The night had started in a manner that was fairly routine for them. A few drinks, a few laughs, one thing leading to another and then they had been making out on her sofa in various states of undress. There had been a break in the action as they made it to her bedroom, where they had quickly picked up where they had left off.

Quite impressively, if she did say so herself.

Her heart was pounding, a light sheen of sweat on both of their bodies as she moved her hips to match his. Her mind was blissfully blank, wrapped up in the moment as she was, a moan escaping her lips involuntarily. She did enjoy it when he hit that particular spot.

Now a blank mind can be a dangerous thing, especially for a psychic such as Anathema. Blank space wants to be filled up, often time collect bits and pieces from the heads of others to do. This was something she was used to, except this time she was caught a bit off guard. Which led to the aforementioned, unexpected direction.

Stray thoughts from Chuck were nothing knew, but the thought that had just wandered into her head definitely was not his. The voice and thoughts rather clearly belonged to someone else.

She frowned, eyes opening as she reflexively reached up to pause Chuck's motions by putting her hand over his mouth. "Who was that?" she asked, unable to get past it until her curiosity was resolved.

Entry tags:

star-lord (lol)

(no subject)

In hindsight, putting "Renegade" on this mix was probably a bad choice^•.

The reasoning had been relatively sound. Who didn't enjoy the slow build, the rocking chorus that made it feel like everything was possible if you had the right soundtrack? The mood had struck her and the next thing she'd known, she'd been dragging it into the playlist. Someone was bound to appreciate it. That Anathema just knew to be true.

Headphones tucked in her ears, she was on her way to get herself a drink to congratulate herself on yet another brilliant set of horoscopes, each different and catered to the six different publications that she was employed by. Getting a proper job with regular hours was something she kept meaning to get to, but hadn't yet. It was on the list. Somewhere after organizing her sock drawer, she swore.

Humming along to the song, she followed the familiar steps, stepping around people a moment just a moment before they ran into her, ducking around delivery men and shoppers without losing a beat. She knew where the Book was (in her flat for once, locked in a drawer, key tied around her neck), knew which drink she was starting with (a Dark & Stormy, seasons be damned) and had a fairly good start on knowing which books were going to be on the best seller's list (three years from now).

Still, even foresight and practicality had their limits. These limits occasionally liked to rub themselves in Anathema's face by causing her to step just a moment too late out of someone's way, six steps from the pub she was after. Collisions had to happen somewhere and this was more abrupt than most.

Pulling her headphones down, she grinned brilliantly up at the tall, handsome man she'd walked into. "Sorry about that," she offered, hand slipping around to hit pause on her CD player. "I'm not normally the stumbling into men type. You caught me off guard."

• Or it had been an incredibly right one. The jury was still out on that one. They'd taken a long lunch and showed no real sign of returning.

(no subject)

"Completely wrecked it. From the look on my aunt's face you'd have thought that I'd started an extra unexpected world war."

Anathema current state could best be described as 'delightfully buzzed'. There was always the fear in these circumstances that she could veer rather quickly into 'a bit sloshed' and then 'completely pissed' territories. Fortunately one of the many minor perks that came from being who she was, was the one wherein she had the foresight to eat a rather large dinner^*. It might not be much, but it had come in remarkably handy during her schooldays.

The fact of the matter was that she deserved a bit of a celebratory drink. Or five. It was her birthday and sure, she might not be entirely certain if she was turning twenty (actual number of years she'd be alive) or thirty-seven (number of years according to this place) but it was just another minor detail. Just like the fact that she hadn't explicitly told Chuck that her birthday was what she was privately celebrating in her head. She'd just mentioned grabbing a drink and here they were.

Besides, wasn't it enough to privately celebrating getting another birthday at all? Dealing with the End of Days typically results in No More Birthdays. Having a confusing one was better than none at all.

Taking another sip of her drink^§, she set it down on the bar and opened her mouth to continue. Instead she hiccuped. This made her laugh as she covered her mouth with her hand.

"Sorry. Happens sometimes. Not dignified, but real."

* That and she'd inherited a fantastic hangover cure with a 94% success rate. It was best to never ask her what was in it.

§ A dark and stormy, despite it being neither stormy out nor summer where such a drink is usually consumed.

[post box - both email & snail mail]

MAIL BOX FOR ANATHEMA DEVICE, PHD: WITCH & PRACTICAL OCCULTIST.

[voicemail]

Hello, you've reached Anathema Device. Please leave a message at the tone and I'll return your call in the order of its historical and cosmological importance. Have a nice day!

(no subject)

Adapting to change was one of the more useful things that came along with being human. By virtue of being a witch, Anathema was a bit more adaptable than most^*. Having a Book was also an added benefit, because life was a far less scary place when there was a book chocked full of statements that would be both incredibly relevant and incredibly useful, even if it was always after the fact.

She liked to think that she was adjusting remarkably well. She had cloistered herself away from the general fray for the holiday (something about a Halloween she hadn't had time to map just seemed unseemly). That time had been spent doing research, putting in for subscriptions to the various local papers and rags and figuring out the ways that the Internet had changed.

Fortunately she was a quick study.

That morning she had woken up, dashed about to pick up a few more odds and ends (like decent clothes) before landing where she now was in the early afternoon.

Having taken over a sofa and a half as well as a good portion of one of the low tables, Anathema was preparing to be forced to deal with another change sooner rather than later. The Bean Counter was a rather enjoyable place, though part of her would've preferred to work in a dimly lit pub. She supposed that she could migrate there later, but in the meantime she had a mug of milky tea that had long since gone cold to finish.

The Book was resting in a spot that could very well sit another person. Every now and then it would catch Anathema's eye, a tidy pile of notecards just itching to be filled out with annotations. For now she was idly studying a map of the city spread out over the table, debating how long it would take to get an elevation map from the City Hall.

Tapping her pencil against one of the notecards, she let her mind wander as she scribbled out a few random words. When these things popped into her head, it was easier to just get them out and have a laugh about them later.

A man shall come into your life whose tale is as strange as he is handsome.

Looking down at the words, she let out a soft snort of laughter. It was exactly the sort of trashy prophecy that applied to just about anyone. For instance the next bloke to walk through the door could meet the mark, which would put her exactly nowhere new.

Except maybe yelled at for taking up most of the unoccupied seats.

Just as she rolled her eyes, the chimes over the door rattled bringing her attention away from the words and the map and up to whomever was blowing in. She might down her own words, but that didn't stop a tiny part of her from hoping to be right.

* Except when she was terrible at it. See: The Night After The World Nearly Ended But Ultimately Didn't.