#…. I don’t know why o felt compelled to share that. Guess it was just a happy memory

[welcome-to-green-hills]

When the Wachowskis go get ice cream, they sit on the curb outside and each member counts all of the assigned color of cars they can find, and whoever gets the most wins the game, much like what Carl and Russel do at the end of Up: "that might sound boring, but I think the boring stuff is the stuff I remember the most."

[soleilsuhh]

— soon the cold night falls.

plot. when you went to doyoung’s place to study, you didn’t expect to end up staying the night and sleeping on the same bed.

pairing. doyoung x gender neutral! reader.

genre. college!au. fluff. suggestive. pining. good ol’ sharing-a-bed trope.

word count. 1.8k words.

you had been falling behind in maths, which was why you asked doyoung to help you study. although you didn’t have the same major, you knew he was more than proficient in the subject. he had eventually agreed to help but not without calling you an idiot first. this was how you found yourself in his rented studio apartment where he lived off-campus, about fifteen minutes from the university.

suddenly, you felt a hard but painless tap on your hand.

"are you listening?" he demanded, the look on his face is evident that he already knew the answer. he sighed, "pay attention, y/n, this topic is important."

"it seems like even you can't make maths interesting,"

he shot you a look at which you responded immediately by raising your palms up slightly in surrender, topped by a cheeky grin. you tried your best to focus as he continued with the explanation but by the time he reached to the next page, your thoughts began to drift away from the formulas and to the fact that the two of you were alone.

it wasn't as if this was the first time you had been alone with him in a room; you weren't sure why you were feeling jittery and why your foot was bouncing of its own accord under the table.

"—will you stop zoning out!"

his raised voice and the sound of frustrated slam of pen on the table startled you, effectively pulling you away from your thoughts.

surprisingly, the rest of the tutoring session went by smoothly. but it seemed like at some point while studying for what felt like forever, you fell asleep. when you woke up, you were pleasantly surprised to feel a jacket wrapped securely around you, and that its owner was also asleep in front of you, using his own arm as a pillow. his face was serene, the soft breathing making the world outside seem to stand still.

you grabbed your phone, trying to ignore the odd feeling in your heart. looking at the screen, you jumped, nearly causing the jacket to fall off your shoulders. it was already midnight, and you were still at his apartment. you reached over to shake doyoung awake, and as he rubbed his eyes, you showed him the lit-up screen.

he momentarily froze in his movements. "huh." he looked at you, "sorry, i didn't mean to fall asleep; i was planning to wake you up before your dorm curfew," he paused and after a moment, he said: “do you want to stay here tonight?”

your heart involuntarily beat faster at that and you brushed it off. it was probably a good idea; you were already an hour past the curfew. you said ‘okay,’ before calling your roommate to inform them. they sounded sleepy but nonetheless, relieved to hear from you. as you talked on the phone, doyoung walked over to his dresser and your gaze lingered after him.

“catch,” he said, throwing a simple tee and sweatpants at your direction just as you hung up.

you caught them clumsily.

“thought they might be more comfortable than your jeans, but you don’t have to change if you don’t want to,”

you smiled at him, “thank you,” you brought the clothes closer to get the whiff of fresh scent, “they smell really nice,”

he scoffed but not unkindly.

as you shuffled towards the bathroom to change, he began to put away the books on the table. when you came out, the table was cleared, everything neatly stacked and an extra bedding was spread out on the floor along with a pillow.

"you take the bed," he said, gesturing towards it.

you blinked at him for a moment then delcared, "hell no, this is your place anyway; i can sleep on the floor,"

"exactly, this is my place, so i make the rules," he said, "take the bed,"

you refused to move, not giving in but also uncertain about what to say. this was such a conflicting situation you were in; why did you care that much if he slept on the floor? why were your eyes so fixated on the fact that there was no extra blanket for him? what was this clenching feeling in your stomach?

"the bed is big enough for two people..." you awkwardly suggested. "i mean it's not like we've never shared a bed before,"

it's true; you had taken so many naps together - that was back in primary and middle school, yes, and things might not be the same anymore.

you could have sworn that you saw doyoung's movements stop after hearing your suggestion but he continued whatever he was doing on his phone. his lack of response was a clear enough answer for you.

"um, fine then," you said with a hint of despondency.

"i guess we can keep a pillow between us," his voice came. "i don't have an extra blanket too, anyway and it gets cold at night," he paused a brief second and lifted his head to look at you, "are you sure you're okay with sharing a bed?"

you nodded, a little too eagerly, a little too fast, "yeah, i'm okay with it! sounds good!"

the two of you remained motionless on the bed. it was awkward. you couldn't tell if he felt the same or if he was already asleep. he was lying still on his back, eyes closed and face relaxed.

you tried not to move too much, but you couldn't help yourself from restlessly tossing and turning, pulling the cover that you were sharing slightly closer to your body. he was right; the night was really cold.

suddenly, you felt a hand on yours, not grabbing it, just resting there and applying enough pressure to get your attention. you noticed how warm his hand was and you cherished it.

"y/n," his voice was soothing in the quietness of the night, "stop moving so much,"

you stopped and his touch, warm and gentle, lingered before he completely retreated his hand.

after a moment, you lifted your head slightly, "doyoung?"

"hmm?"

"i'm cold,"

he eventually opened his eyes and got out of bed with a sigh; he headed towards his dresser, the path dimly lit by the moon and then he came back with a hoodie which he tossed at you. "here,"

you mumbled a 'thank-you' as you put it on, feeling both thankful yet also...disappointed. you weren't sure why though. what exactly were you expecting anyway?

once again, both of you lied down on your backs, neither moving; his eyes closed, and yours wide open. minutes passed before you began to feel restless again. somehow, your mind wouldn't stop thinking about how warm his hand was and how yours was itching to be held again.

you turned your body to completely face him as you edged closer to the pillow barrier between you two. "doyoung?" you tried.

you waited a few seconds.

"what?"

"i'm still cold,"

you waited a few seconds. a few more. and a few more.

you were certain you wouldn’t get a response anymore. he was probably tired and dying to get some sleep. and he already gave you a hoodie; what more could he do for you?

sleepless, you found yourself distracted by how pretty he looked in the pale moonlight that came through the window. you noticed an eyelash on his cheek and tentatively, you reached over to gently brush it away. you were tempted to wake him so that he can make a wish but that probably wasn't a good idea. despite how warm his hand was, his face was cool under your touch, his skin so soft that you found yourself lightly trailing a finger along his features; first his cheekbone, then his nose, and when your finger reached his lip, his breath deepened and his eyelids moved albeit still closed. you stopped dead.

you weren't sure whether knowing that he was awake made you feel more nervous or more delighted. perhaps both.

your fingertips lingered on his skin, waiting for him to stop you but he didn't. you felt compelled to continue and that’s what you did; your fingers began moving again, trailing over the shape of his lips. with each passing second, your movements gained more sense of ease and certainty as your feathery touch brushed along his jawline, creeping down his neck, and then his collarbone.

you watched, marvelled as his breath hitched softly.

your fingers edged up his neck again.

and his hand grabbed your wrist. there it was. that warm touch of his.

he opened his eyes and your gazes locked.

the look on his face was unreadable and it made you all the more nervous and excited. the eye-contact broke only when you gulped, trying to shove the nerves down, and his eyes followed the movement on your neck.

“you said you’re cold?”

you nodded.

letting go of your wrist, his eyes met yours again. “turn around.”

you looked at him uncertainly, suddenly feeling a tingling sensation in your fingertips and toes. “why?”

he gave you a small, reassuring smile, and his hand reached out to trace along your jaw and down your neck, the maneuver emulating yours earlier.

“you’ll see,”

you shifted your position and turned until you were facing the other way. behind you, you felt the pillow between you two being lifted and placed on the other side of the bed. soon after, doyoung wrapped his arms around yours, pulling the covers over your bodies and holding you close. back pressed against his chest, you entwined your arm with his and laced your fingers together.

the two of you stayed like that for a while, still and quiet.

it was him who broke the silence, “how about now?” he said, “are you still cold?”

you smiled, “no, this is really nice,”

“good.”

it was a little awkward and stiff at first. but after a while, it became peaceful as you both slowly relaxed and allowed yourselves to melt into the warm embrace. your breathing slowed down and your heart stopped racing. the steady rise and fall of his chest was so comforting and you found yourself snuggling closer against his chest and into his arms.

“honestly,” you began, voice quiet but light-hearted, “i was kind of thinking about something else when you told me to turn around,”

he hummed amusedly and let out a chuckle. then he leaned forward to hover his lips over your ear, “i know what you were thinking,” his voice was barely above a whisper and held a tone of refrained laughter.

you shivered but eventually bursted out laughing, and he promptly joined, unable to contain it in him any longer. the laughter in the stillness of the night was heavenly. doyoung muffled himself by burying his face in your neck to stop himself from laughing too loud for the sake of the neighbors, but that only caused you to laugh louder and harder because of the tickling sensation. in spite of himself, he managed to whisper soft ‘shh’s and gently covered your mouth with his hand from behind.

even as you both tried to calm yourselves down, you broke into fits of soft giggles every now and then. doyoung tried to sound annoyed as he told you to go to sleep but he couldn’t stop smiling.

you sighed, happy and content but also sad because you knew this moment would eventually pass, “i don’t want this to end,”

“don’t be silly,”

silence filled the room for a while.

“you can come sleep over whenever you want,” he said, hugging you closer, his voice soft and unwavering.

[thotsforvillainrights]

I'm in a soft mood so could I please request headcannons on how (you don't have to include Toga if you don't wanna) Compress, Toya, Tabe, Toga, Shigaraki, Dabi and Spinner would react to their s/o saying I love you for the first time??

(You know given the second thought about it, I could write Toga into this because it’s not anything inherently sexual but at the same time the blog is a Minor DNI and that leaves just us grownups reading about Toga romance and ehhhhh. I just don’t want to be attacked for depicting her anymore in anything other than something platonic like friendship. Let’s try the friendship thing then!)

~”I love you” for the First Time~

headcanon|scenario|imagine|match-up

~Compress~

-You probably end up saying it for the first time after getting back from an amazing date with him. When you say it, please know it was planned. For a while now since you two began dating, you waited patiently for him to say it first. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to, but in all honesty he was a bit of a gentleman and a little shy. He felt as though he wasn’t far along enough with you, or that he wasn’t embedded in your life enough. You gathered all of these conclusions from his mannerisms. So you planned for about a week to just let it slip one of these days and you did. When you did so, his mouth popped open. He was quick to hide his blush with his most nearby mask. Once covered he gathered the confidence to mirror your words and lay them on with a hug as well.

~Setsuno~

-The first time you say it, you’re laying your head on his chest in your shared bedroom of your (you guessed it) shared apartment. You’re not really sure what compelled you to say it suddenly like this, but it just sorta happened. It might have been how cuddled up you two were with each other all day. You’ve both burned through two movies and a couple snacks as well. The whole atmosphere was sappy as hell, but it was comfortable nonetheless. And when you graced his ears with those words for the first time just now he immediately paused the movie and looked down at you to make sure you weren’t sleep talking. You smiled warmly at him and he let a tear or two slip before pulling you into a tight hug and littering your face with kisses. “I love you a thousand times, two thousand, three thousand! I love you Y/N, I love you I love you!”

~Tabe~

-You weren’t scared to test the water with him given the fact that he lets you know how much you mean to him and how he accepts you 100% no matter what. I’d like to think a love with him is unconditional meaning no matter what pace you take it, no matter what you look like or dress like or even sound like, no matter your quirks and oddities, no matter what he loves you! That’s why when you finally said “I love you” over dinner that night, he smiled at you and received you so warmly. There wasn’t a hint of fear or hesitation in your tone because you knew he would welcome it the way he did. He was a man of few words and preferred to let his actions speak more than his words did. However, when he did speak you knew he was serious about it. That’s why you felt just as special as he did when he started repeating it.

~Toga~

-Being best friends with her was a lifetime deal. Meaning she would always be there whether you wanted her to or not. Little spats and differences couldn’t be enough to break her loyalty in the least bit. If you ever got married down the line, she would be there as a bridesmaid/groomswoman/or whatever. If you ever decided to have kids, she’s take on the role as an aunt almost immediately. If you ever decided to start a business, she would support you. No matter what, she was there. She cared a great deal about you and friendship was a serious thing for her. That entails her texting you to ask if you make it home safe after hanging out, or her splitting her money with you so you guys can go eat burgers or something together. Most importantly, she always ended a phone call with “I love you.” This was something of course you notice a lot of friends doing with each other. You weren’t one to do it too often (for the sake of this ask). After a while of thinking on it, you finally said it back one night and she would NOT shut up about it. “I knew you cared about me too! We’ll be best friends till we die, do you hear me!?” She hugged your tightly and you began to wonder if you should regret your decision soon lol

~Shigaraki~

-The first time you say it is in the middle of walking back to the base together after a quick convenience store run. He damn near dropped his slushy but played it off as if his almost faltered for other reasons. He didn’t say it back and that’s fine. You didn’t expect him to do so after all. This was just your way at hinting that the relationship was getting more serious in your eyes. After you went to sleep that night, he stayed up tossing and turning at the thought of what just happened earlier. He was at a blank for words. When to say it back? Where to say it back? Is it too late? Did he blow it? He thoughts wouldn’t really leave him alone all night until he finally passed out from sleep deprivation around 3 a.m. By the time he woke up you were already awake and eating breakfast at the table. He decided to join you and gently place a hand on your head, staring at your with softening gaze that you never really got from him before. It would take him at least a week and a half before he’d say it back, but for now his actions and expressions should do just fine.

~Dabi~

-You gotta be out of your mind if you think he was saying it first. I mean even if he did, it’d have to be somewhere serious like if you were dying in his arms or something. Besides that, he aint folding and saying it first no matter how sappy you make him feel. I’m pretty sure the first you say it is after sex during the cuddling phase (and for the readers not taking part in such then you say it during cuddling on the couch instead). He probably looks down and smirks at you before saying something smartass like “I know” or “Thanks” or even “Who wouldn’t?” He doesn’t start replying it back to you until you’re far enough along to where he feels he can trust you won’t just disappear from his life. That being said, he still feels his heart twist all up when you say it for the first time. You make him so soft sometimes

~Spinner~

-You like the way he smiles when you do just about anything. It’s so obvious that he’s in love with you that even a blind man could see how you felt about each other. Spinner would rather cut off both his legs and dye his hair orange before ever hurting your feelings ever. To be honest, he planned on saying it you first but you just beat him to the punch of things. He literally gasped when you said it to him. He searched your eyes for any hint of dishonesty but as usual he couldn’t find a lick of it. It was all you, and it was all the truth. You loved him and by God he loved you as well. From that day on he makes it his mission to say it to you every single day to make up for the fact that he didn’t say it first, and also to make sure you never go a day wondering how he felt about you.

»—————————–———————————————————–✄

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[queenmevesknickers]

The Illustrated Bandit

“You knew?!”

“I didn’t know, Your Grace – merely suspected.”

Meve folded her arms. “And you did not think to share these suspicions with me?”

Reynard frowned slightly, then spoke as though he was weighing his words carefully. “I did not like to speak in haste, Your Majesty. There has been enough bad faith between us as it is – I did not wish to alarm you, or malign Gascon, unless I was certain there was sufficient cause.”

Meve found herself annoyed by this unexpected development. All night, she’d lain awake, consumed by Gascon’s shocking revelation in the cemetery and all that it implied. It all seemed so obvious now – how had she never even suspected? Her one consolation had been that Reynard would be just as astonished, and she had been all impatience to finally have a private moment with him to share what she had learned. If, however, she had been expecting the gratification of seeing him as stunned as she had been whilst they were waiting for Gascon to join them in the command tent – reliably late, as ever – she was sorely mistaken; she knew as soon as she uttered the words that the intelligence of Gascon’s past was not news to her general.

“What tipped you off?” she demanded. “For I don’t mind admitting, I’d never have guessed it if he hadn’t told me.”

Reynard hesitated for a long moment before finally speaking. “He has…tattoos…including one of th’ Brossard crest.”

This was not the answer Meve had been expecting – though what she had been expecting Reynard to say, she wasn’t sure – but it did not escape her notice that he did not quite meet her eye as he said it; he was staring very determinedly at a point just over her left shoulder. She pondered the statement for a moment; certainly, she had never seen any evidence of Gascon’s tattoos, but then again, it was not as though he was in the habit of undressing in front of her. She supposed there might be any number of perfectly innocent reasons why he might have done so in front of Reynard – but the tide of pink that was steadily making its way from under Reynard’s collar to his face suggested that the truth was not among them.

Reynard was granted a momentary reprieve from her interrogation by the appearance of the subject of their discussion. He took one long look from Meve to Reynard and sighed deeply.

“Yes, alright, I suppose we all know th’ truth o’ my exalted and dishonourable heritage now. If you’ve any more exclaiming to do about it, please get it over and done with – I’d much rather put it all behind me again, if you don’t mind.”

“Gascon,” said Meve, unable to help eyeing him speculatively. “Reynard – Reynard tells me you have tattoos.”

Gascon blinked, seemingly bemused by this unexpected turn in the conversation. He glanced over to Reynard, who flushed even more deeply, then back to Meve, the beginnings of his customary grin playing on his lips. “Guilty as charged, Mevie. Why, would you like to see ‘em?”

Her reply came out of her mouth before she so much as thought about it. “Yes.”

To his credit, Gascon looked taken aback for barely a moment; if it was a bluff that she’d unintentionally called, he did not seem put out in the slightest. “Well, anything to oblige my favourite queen in th’ North.”

The time it took for Gascon to remove his armour and clothing from the waist up was easily long enough for Meve to reconsider her answer and declare they ought to get on with the business of the day instead – but she found she had no desire to do so whatsoever. She certainly found cause to be glad her face did not betray a blush as easily as Reynard’s did, however, for as soon as she caught sight of the first glimpse of the pale skin of his stomach, she began to feel rather warm.

Gascon grinned as he turned away from them. “Th’ best ones are all on my back – shame I don’t get to enjoy them as much, but I suppose it makes for a nice view…eh, Reynard?”

To this, Reynard made no reply – though to be fair, neither did Meve; the sight before them was far too distracting. Gascon did boast several tattoos, the dark blue of the ink a stark contrast against his fair skin; the Brossard crest Reynard had recognised sat over his shoulder, though Meve’s eye was drawn to a dagger which extended below the waistband of his trousers. Equally compelling, however, was the sight of Gascon himself: the slope of his ribs down to his slim waist; the smooth definition of the muscle through his shoulders and arms. Not to even mention the soft dark curls that covered his head, twisting tightly at the nape of his neck in a way that demanded to be touched. She hardly noticed herself stepping forward, reaching out; when she gently ran a finger over the blue outline of the pointer, she felt him shiver slightly under her touch.

He turned his head to face her, his full lips now forming a sly smile. “Well, Mevie? See something you like?”

She glanced up to meet his eye, taking in his dimpled grin and the long sweep of his dark lashes, before looking to Reynard, still blushing furiously, but watching them both with an intensity of expression that sent fire racing through her veins.

“I rather think I do.”

[ashes-in-a-jar]

There Are Moments Like These That Keep Me on My Feet

Martin realises a terrible truth regarding Jon's relationship with this new world and has to make a decision on how to handle it.

Hurt and comfort in the Apocalypse and their consequences.

Rated: G

Word count: 2.3K

Tw: non sexual intimacy, memory loss, bad tea

Looking back after leaving Upton House, Martin finally understood. He'd had a feeling, he wasn't completely blind but he had hoped, hoped so badly that he was wrong. That all those times were just a fluke. That he was imagining things. But no, Jon really did forget. It was almost unnoticeable, small things really, but Jon forgot them all.

It started at Kinloss Barracks. Jon had just finished whatever it was the Eye made him talk about. When Martin looked up and uncovered his ears he saw Jon with the tape recorder clicking off, looking pale and rattled. As Jon breathed deeply Martin got up from where he was huddled and crouched next to him, gently cupping his cheek.

"Hey, you alright?"

Jon inhaled one more time. As he resumed breathing normally he turned his face into Martin's hand, lips softly moving against his palm.

"I'm okay Martin. It was just. Alot. Like my first statements at the institute. " He huffed in amused irony and Martin's heart clenched.

"Do you need something? Can I help?" Martin hated how useless he felt when Jon's emotions were at odds with his... Patron.

"It's alright Martin, I'm alright. Maybe just... Stay like this for a bit?" Jon mumbled, holding Martin's hand in place where he was framing Jon's face.

"Okay. I can do that." Martin huffed a small smile and brought the other hand up as well, bracketing both of Jon's sides, making a barrier between him and the sounds of violence outside their little hideaway.

It didn't take long for Martin to slowly begin rubbing Jon's temples and soon enough he was gently massaging his face, trying to draw out the tension set between the eyebrows and beneath the hairline and throughout the pronounced cheekbones.

Jon sighed contentedly and closed his eyes, letting out small sounds of approval every few moments.

When Martin was done, Jon opened his eyes languidly and smiled softly at Martin. "That felt good. Thank you, Martin. For everything."

"It's nothing, I'm here for you."

"I know." Jon took a moment to just look at Martin with that tender but piercing gaze Martin was still trying to get used to ever since they left the Lonely, then took Martin's hands in his and helped both of them up on their feet. "Let's go."

Later, after the village, after the many questions answered and unanswered, after Helen's headache-inducing laugh dissipated with a creak of a door, Jon made a sound akin to a groan-infused sigh. Martin glanced at him and saw he was rubbing the bridge of his nose, moving his hands to his temples. Martin took a step to face him. "Do you want me to do that again?" He asked, raising his arms as indication.

Jon's thick eyebrows creased in confusion "Do what again?"

"You know, in the war zone when you finished…" Martin saw a deepening confusion and decided to forgo the explanation, "Here." He brought his hands up to rub Jon's temples. Once again Jon sighed and once again he thanked Martin softly when it was time they moved on. He didn't mention Martin doing that again afterwards, or ask for it when Martin didn't offer. Which he did every now and then, suspicion growing as each time Jon reacted in novelty.

But that wasn't the only instance. Martin brought with him his poetry book in his pack. When they were able to talk about the carousel again without mentioning the... Smiting, Martin insisted on defending the good aspects of poetry which the Stranger mostly lacked, namely identity and awareness. Jon countered by asking Martin to prove it and recite poetry. "That's not fair, I can't remember them by heart that well."

"Martin, you have a poetry book here, why not just read out of it?"

"You, you want to hear my poetry?" Martin nearly tripped.

"I thought it was obvious by this point there is nothing I'd like more." Jon smiled at him.

Martin recoiled and stammered incoherently. Jon interrupted.

"Martin, stop. I know your poetry is good. I've seen some." Blatantly choosing to ignore his own wince at the circumstances in which he managed to peek at Martin's writing, he went on. "It really is quite good. It'd be a shame not to take the chance to perform a bit of your words. You'll find I make quite a compelling listener." Jon smiled lopsidedly and Martin snorted.

"Okay, okay fine. One poem. And I pick!"

"Fine." Jon shrugged.

Martin intentionally chose one of his more mundane works. About rain and windows of opportunity being washed away. It did hint a bit at the times where his feelings for Jon felt unanswered but it wasn't as... Glaring as others he had.

When he finished he looked up expectantly. He was not prepared for the intensely affectionate expression he saw, nor the tackle of a bear hug that followed.

"Jon! Watch out, we're walking!" He gasped, muffled by the shock of Jon's tangled hair in his face. They had to stop anyway, as Jon refused to let go, tightening his hold and nuzzling into Martin's neck.

"Thank you." He said quietly. "That was... That was more affecting than I thought it would be."

"Really? It's just some words on paper." Martin teased, petting the hair near his face, mainly to get strands of it out of his mouth.

"But they're your words, Martin. They are a, a window into you, how you think and who you are. I don't Look to see what you are thinking a-and the you in front of me is more than enough! Truly! But it's nice to hear a bit more. And it's nice to see that, that I'm there too. This made me really happy, Martin. Thank you."

"O-oh." Martin squeaked, not expecting the forthright reaction. He laughed nervously "Well in that case, we'll make it a, a tradition? Once in a while, if you ask nicely, I'll read you a poem- If you want." he added quickly, feeling a little presumptuous.

"You already know my feelings on the matter. Don't worry, I will ask you again, you can be certain of that." And with that he planted a kiss on the dazed Martin's cheek, readjusted his backpack and began walking again. Martin chuckled to himself and rushed to join him.

But the request never came again. And later, when Martin tentatively asked Jon if he wanted another recitation, Jon's face lit up and said, "So you're finally willing to share? I thought I'd never see the day."

Martin looked at him confused but said nothing and instead chose a different poem about bridges and connections which elicited a very similar reaction as the first.

The request never came again unless Martin offered. Each time he was too afraid to try the same poem lest his concerns would be confirmed. He didn't want to know.

There were other times as well. The time after the Lonely estate when Martin insisted on sitting with their meager supply of tea and talking about small nothings. The tea was nicer than he expected and Jon was practically jovial with giddy relief at Martin's rescue and choice to stay with him, laughing sonorously and uncharacteristically at Martin's silly jokes. Later, he did not recall what they laughed about, nor understood why the tea supply was depleted when Martin tried to remind him. Other jokes in general too. Martin would make Jon laugh and when referring back to the joke, Jon would simply stare at him blankly. Jon did not remember when Martin brushed and braided his ever more tangled hair, fiddling with the stands wondering aloud when he'd done that. Jon forgot when Martin took out his sewing kit and fixed a hole made by the fires of the Desolation, wondering why his shirt suddenly had stitches. Jon forgot compliments, short rests when they quietly held one another close, brief exchanges of reassurance.

Martin tried not to think about it, tried not to make the connection. Tried not to read into the words 'They just get whatever hurts them the most. Even me.' that Jon had said when they were traveling with Basira on her tragic quest. Tried not to remember the times Jon, and even Martin himself, commented about the nature of this place,

'This is not a world where you can trust comfort.'

'Levity off the cards.'

'Nice things, they tend not to stay nice out there.'

But they were there. And he had to face it at some point. Because after they've left the wonderful comfort of Salesa's home, Jon, feeling rejuvenated, said with a dreamy quality to his voice, "Pity. It’s going away. That peace, the safety, the memory of ignorance. It's gone. Like a dream."

"That’s… Yeah, I guess that makes sense." Martin replied, resigned. It was all coming together now and Martin could not avoid it any longer.

Jon couldn't remember. He was the 'Archive' and whatever that meant ensured Jon retained all the pain and fear this world had to offer and nothing else. Jon could not keep the memories of anything nice or happy that happened to him personally in this hellscape. Every good word, every caring touch, every wide smile, bark of laughter. It all faded right after it occurred. Maybe if it was small enough he could remember. But Martin's mothering? Martin's hugs? Martin's tea? Martin's poetry? None of it stayed. Only Martin could remember those moments and what was lost.

As they walked away from the green and the sky Martin fell slightly behind, trying to reign in his tears.

Of course he remembered. This place ensured that Martin would remember so the pain of loss would be ever more acute later. It was what this world was. The worst pain it could inflict on them.

It's not fair! They had just got together, they had just begun to open up, share their deepest facets with each other, enjoy the closeness. Was that all pointless? Were all of his efforts worth anything in the long run at all? Martin felt himself slowly descending into a sharp kind of despair that became heavier and heavier as he sunk deeper.

No! He forced himself upright and shook his head vigorously,letting the tears shake off his face.

No! It was worth it! Those moments are there and they exist, even if the memory is gone. They have value and a worth inherent to them as the Good moments that they are, apocalypse rules be damned!

He balled his hands into fists, silently challenging whichever dread power was listening. They cannot take those moments away! The hugs, the soft gazes, the pure happiness, even forgotten will remain and have their merit. Martin will make sure there are more of them, always more of them, to spite the Eye! To spite the Fears! To spite this place! Jon will get all of the love he deserves, memory or not. Martin will double, no, triple the care he will give Jon, make sure he is okay in the quiet moments, give him a reason to smile.

He will see the braided hair afterwards, feel the ache in his cheeks from a long laugh, feel the lingering warmth around his arms and back, the tingle on his lips. The remnants will give him the strength to stand against the powers that be and retain the hope they cultivated. And Martin will be there, every step of the way. Loving, caring, smiling. Because that's what they deserve. And Martin will fight for it to the end.

Later, after that dreadful hospital and another long stretch of time walking quietly, contemplating. Martin was sure Jon was still agonizing over his decision to help Breekon by relieving him of his suffering, so Martin called Jon to stop.

"What?" Jon asked, confused.

"I am making the executive decision to make a stop and rest. I have a little bit of tea left and I will read you some of my poetry while we're at it."

Jon's face lit up, though still retaining its confused quality. "Alright, if you insist. What brought this on?"

Martin already settled down and began setting up a small fire for the water. "We had a time so now we're taking a breather. The air here is slightly fresher than what it was back there."

"Alright." Jon smiled.

Martin put the small pot on the fire and looked up at Jon still standing over him "C'mere, " he opened his arms.

Chuckling lightly, Jon unslung his pack and sank into Martin's embrace. Martin in turn pulled him in tight and nuzzled the top of his hair.

"I know it wasn't easy back there but what you did, it was the right thing to do."

"How do you know?" Bitterness seeped into Jon's voice and Martin began stroking circles on his back. Jon shuffled even closer into Martin's jumper, burying his face in his chest.

"I just do. You couldn't leave him like that. A small act of mercy. To spite this place."

"If you say so." Jon mumbled into the fabric.

"I do. Now move over so I can get my book." Martin decided to read the sappiest, most Jon-related poem he had, cringe be damned.

"I don't want to." Jon grumbled and leaned in, eyes closed, breathing deeply.

"Okay, we can wait. There's no rush." Martin said fondly.

They stayed that way for a long while until the water boiled over and they drank what was left if that dreadful brew that dared call itself tea. They sat there in a comfort later forgotten, reclaiming depleted energy and regaining motivation. A moment that had infinite value, regardless of what the past held or the future entailed. A tangible instant that was completely theirs within the infinite universe, unending in the singular space and time which no one can ever take away.

[violetwolfraven]

Modern!Wormsies Headcanons because I’m terrified wormsies is going to die before 2021 gets here

Tw for mild horror. I don’t think this is that bad but read at your own risk. I don’t l know why I created it I just felt compelled to but don’t read it unless you’re as insane as I am and are fully prepared to read the most cursed thing I have ever created. Seriously. This is by far the most cursed thing I have ever written. Good luck. 💜

So anyway they’re not selling to survive obviously since it’s modern au.

In my modern au they’re all theatre nerds cause why not.

So they’re backstage one day and Race finds this blue thing behind an old set that has probably been there for several years.

Lo and behold, it is a worm on a string.

And Race is kinda weirded out and wondering who left it there but he’s like aight guess I’m keeping this thing.

He ties it to a strap on his backpack and forgets about it for the rest of rehearsal.

Then Romeo (one of Race’s 3 adoptive brothers, the others being Jack and Crutchie) notices it and f l i p s o u t.

Romeo drags over Specs and Jack and Crutchie to show them the worm Race found and they’re all like omg this is the best thing we’ve ever seen.

Race is still kinda confused but like hey whatever this might as well happen and he just figures if his brothers and his little brother’s boyfriend are gonna obsess over worms, why not join in?

They all get worms somehow. Romeo gets a green one, Specs gets a purple one, Jack gets a dark blue one, and Crutchie gets a yellow one.

When they all show up to rehearsal a few days later with worms, a few others pick up on it and are like lmao let’s join in on the insanity.

So anyway Albert gets a red one, Smalls gets a green one, Mike gets a purple one, Ike gets a yellow one cause it’s the opposite of purple, and Elmer gets a green one.

All the others are all kinda just whatever do what you want don’t involve us in your insanity.

BUT THEN

Over the course of the next couple weeks, only a couple more people join in on getting worms.

Sniper gets a purple one and Finch gets an orange one.

But what’s strange is that everybody starts noticing...

The kids with worms pick up choreography...

Faster and Better...

Than the kids without worms...

They’re stretchier and more agile...

...almost like..?

Almost like...

They...

don’t...

have...

spines..?

They wiggle just like their worms wiggle wiggle wiggle.

And Specs is the most logical of the ones with worms but even he fully believes his worm gives him special powers.

They spend their snack breaks talking about this and a few more people decide to get in on it.

Jojo gets a yellow one, Mush gets a dark blue one, and Blink gets a light blue one.

Davey, Spot, and Katherine still refuse to believe in this.

Sarah got a pink worm and they were all terribly disappointed in her.

But anyway they hold out their lack of belief despite how the kids with worms continue to perform better in dance numbers than the few left without.

Kenny caves and gets a dark blue one somewhere in here.

There are now a lot more kids with worms than kids without and the holidays are rolling around.

Ike gets Hotshot a red worm and Hotshot in turn gets red worms for all his crowd on the stage crew (Bart, Rafaela, Joey, Hildy, York, and Vince).

Hell, even the crew kids perform better with worms, it turns out.

Cause they can run fast to get places they need to be and squeeze through spaces they shouldn’t be able to squeeze through.

But anyway Katherine and Davey and Spot are starting to get a little creeped out.

Cause their friends and partners are starting to act more and more like they’re in a cult, even more than the cult that they’re already in (the drama club).

They pretend their worms have fucking personalities and make tiny hats for them and stuff.

And the ones left without worms are dropping like flies and getting assimilated to the other side.

Buttons gets a light blue one, Tommy Boy gets a pink one, Henry gets an orange one, and

And Sarah gets Les a green worm.

That’s kinda the last straw for Davey.

He fucking waits until his siblings are asleep and he throws their worms in the trash.

But mysteriously

They both have their worms back in time for rehearsal.

And Davey gets home that night and there’s a light blue worm waiting on his pillow.

He throws it away but it’s tied to his backpack strap the next day.

He flushes it down the toilet and it shows up in his favorite hoodie pocket.

He tells Katherine and Spot, super freaked out, but they don’t really believe him cause there’s no such thing as magic worms... right?

Then Katherine finds a purple worm on the seat she usually sits in during breaks.

She’s moderately creeped out so she leaves it there and goes to a different seat but the next break the worm is on that seat.

She can’t remember seeing anyone move it.

Meanwhile Spot is making out with Race behind a curtain (obviously) and Race

Race fucking pulls a red worm out of his sleeve like a scarf trick and gives it to him.

Spot is super weirded out by this and wants to just throw the dumb thing away the minute he and Race are done making out, but he just...

He can’t.

He can’t get rid of the worm, so he ties it to his backpack.

Katherine and Davey are mildly horrified that Spot has given in and won’t give up his worm even though you’re encouraging their cult-like behavior, Spot, come on.

Spot insists that he could throw away his worm if he wanted to, he just... doesn’t want to. And besides, he can keep up with the others on theatre stuff now, so why would he?

So Kath and Davey are

The

Last

Ones

Left

Without worms.

Davey’s worm is still following him around but he refuses to give in and he always gets rid of it as soon as he finds it but it always pops up again.

Katherine’s shows up less frequently, but it starts getting more and more frequent and she starts getting more and more freaked out as one night, she goes into her room and that fucking purple worm is on her pillow.

None of her friends have been to her house in the last 24 hours so this development is fucking terrifying.

She calls Davey and flips out on the phone to him about it and he’s trying to calm her down but Sarah ends up stealing his phone after a few minutes because she’s my girlfriend, Davey, not yours.

When Davey gets the phone back, Katherine is significantly calmer. He asks her if she threw the worm away.

She

Didn’t

Throw the worm away.

She claims it’s fine, that they might as well give in, Davey, we’re the last ones left without worms, just out of stubbornness. And anyway our friends with worms are doing fine; look at your siblings if you need proof.

Sarah and Les are having a tea party with their worms and Davey is getting pretty scared at this point.

He’s the last one left without a worm, though that blue one still always seems to show up wherever he is.

Until

Opening night

Of

Their

Show

Afterwards everybody’s pumped up and ready to go to Applebee’s to celebrate and Davey is relieved because no one has mentioned worms in the last 24 hours or even really looked at the ones still tied to their backpacks.

He thinks maybe the others got bored with it and this thing is finally dying, especially since that damn light blue worm hasn’t showed up today either.

But then Davey is just sharing a nice coffee alone with Jack backstage (which he hasn’t done since the worm thing started because honestly his boyfriend was creeping him out).

Jack suddenly starts crying, and Davey’s all like hey what is it? Babe look at me what’s wrong?

And Jack just goes I’m sorry love I know it hurts now but it’s better in the long run trust me.

That’s when Elmer, Specs, Sarah, and Mush burst in behind them and grab Davey, shoving a bag over his head and dragging him somewhere.

When the bag is taken off of Davey’s head, he’s tied to a chair in the middle of a choir room that all his friends have somehow squeezed into.

They’re all holding their worms.

And Davey is like guys if this is an elaborate prank it wasn’t even that funny to begin with but now it is very very much not funny.

But Sarah just goes in a sad tone it’s not a prank Davey.

Les not looking like he’s trying not to laugh is what makes Davey believe it’s not a prank.

And Davey is legitimately terrified at this point because even Spot and Katherine are looking at him with a solemn kind of pity and when he asks them for help they just shake their heads and tell him everything will be okay.

He turns to Jack and is still clinging to that last little bit of hope that one of the people he loves might not have gone off the deep end.

That last little bit of hope that the boy he loves is still the boy I fell for. I know you’re still in there so please just untie me Jackie.

Jack looks like he’s trying not to cry but he doesn’t move.

Instead he says I love you Davey. It’ll all be over soon.

Do it, Race.

Race steps forward and Davey just about has a heart attack because

He’s

Holding

That

Goddamn

Light blue

Worm

And he takes some rainbow duct tape out of his pocket and tapes it to Davey’s shirt.

And the others all start chanting one of us one of us one of us as Davey can practically feel the spine leave his body and travel to another dimension where there’s a man who collects them.

It turns out the others were right that he should just give in.

Now it’s time for them to get the rest of the school.

Edit: here is my attempt to justify myself for this. 💜

[you-are-worth-the-wait]

I don’t know. Sometimes I just wonder why things happen or play out the way they do. I don’t understand it sometimes. Maybe it’s because I’m on the outside looking into situations that I feel people should be able to solve, see, or figure out. Instead, what they do or continue to do causes them more pain and grief. I always felt that common sense would somehow prevail. But I do also know that when you are involved in it or it’s happening to you, common sense isn’t as common.

Would you believe that even if someone were to see those posts as being directed at people, those could as well be directed at me. For every thought or critique that I could have of someone and/or of people and their choices, I can get just as frustrated at myself. I told you about how comically sad it can be for me when I think bad or negatively about myself that I can’t help but be an observer on the outside and laugh at my situations or how I perceive things. I still wear my dog tags for inspiration to help me when I’m feeling a certain way. I end up to the stating, “I can do better. I can be better.” I know I can. I expect that from myself. I want that for myself. And when I find myself back or stuck in a situation that I feel/know I shouldn’t be in…I get…sad. I get frustrated at people’s thoughts, words, and actions but it could just as well be a reflection of myself. I’ve stopped certain trains of thoughts that I used to run wild with. I’ve stopped certain actions afraid of the consequences. I’ve stopped myself from saying certain things that I want to say because, sometimes, I’m just lost.

I told you before that the only reason why i posted on FB was for you. Once you took yourself off of it, who/what was i posting for? You told me what I may say or maybe even pictures could be used against you. I didn’t want to do that. So maybe I just stopped at some point. I don’t know. Those experiences and trips you talk about, I want to share them with you. As far as randomly publicly, I don’t know. I’ve thought about it. I have. I want to. But at the same time, I don’t. At this point in time, I’m okay with keeping those experiences and memories to/for myself. I tell you about what I do and where I go because I want you to be a part of it. Sharing that with you and select people is more than enough for me. Honestly, there are a lot of pictures I could post and I’d love to share but…my heart is not in it to post/share with others at this time. I’ve changed my profile pic every now and then when the fancy arises. What I’ve posted, it may look like a critique of others but it also comes from a critique of myself. Maybe if I had known you were looking at my FB, then I’d have a reason to post something worth “admiring/seeing.”

At one of the welcome centers at Virginia as their slogan within the O says, “Virginia is for lovers.”

Those two random signs cuz, you know, it��s obvious to us but would I really say that. Well, one of them I would and people would agree to it.

A couple of the first few photos we took when we arrived early in the morning after our overnight flight to Richmond, VA.

I guess if I had the proper motivation to share/post pictures, these are the types I’d be posting. I can still appreciate the randomness, beauty, hilarity , and whatnots of moments when I am there. I will take pictures of things maybe others wouldn’t. I’ll see things and have no idea why I want to take pictures but I do anywayz because something compelled me to do so at that moment.

[vfdarkness]

AVFD Script - S2EP03 The Forgotten Man

[[Intro]]

You’re at a bus stop and your bus is late.

Finally, it pulls up, you step aboard, and for a brief moment… 

the driver’s facial features - their eyes, nose, mouth are in all the wrong places. 

As you stare, their face quickly rearranges itself to appear more normal. More human.

The door closes. There’s no one else in the vehicle.

You need my help.

[[AVFD intro music kicks in]]

This is A Voice From Darkness.

[[AVFD intro music fades out]]

Hello, this is Dr. Malcolm Ryder, parapsychologist, here to help you with all problems paranormal, supernatural, and otherworldly. And we have a wonderful show planned for tonight. There’s two national alerts for the state of Florida - one for the panhandle, and another for the everglades. After we go over these we’ll explore one of the strangest roadside attractions in American history. And of course we’ll finish our show with the phone lines open so you, our listeners, can call-in. But first, let's get to our national alerts

[[National Alerts music starts]]

A sinkhole has appeared in the middle of Kelson Ave in Marianna, Florida. The hole’s depth is currently unknown however twenty feet down, stone carvings of faces appear. The carvings continue for as far down as anyone can tell. Each is unique yet is made to grotesquely express either the emotion of fear or that of delight. A spelunker descended into the hole to gather information about its depth. Two hours into his descent contact was lost and he was pulled out. When he resurfaced he was said to be in a daze. He removed his harness and immediately jumped back into the hole. Please be careful while driving on Kelson, Ave in Marianna, Florida. 

Our second national alert is for the Florida Everglades. The Singing has returned to the wetlands. All those in the area are advised to wear hearing protection for at least the next 72 hours or until otherwise instructed. The source of The Singing is unknown but is said to compel all who hear it to walk into the wetlands and be devoured by the creatures there-in. Again, please wear hearing protection if you’re within earshot of the Florida Everglades.

And that’s all we have for national alerts this evening. 

[[NA music fades out]]

Next up we have Today In Odd America, where we’ll discuss a manifestation that once haunted every corner of this land. And afterwards we’ll open the phone-lines.

[[Today In Odd America]]

Today in Odd America we find ourselves across the highways of our country. Forty four years ago today marks the last known visit to a roadside attraction commonly called The House of Narcissus. No physical evidence of this place exists. It was never found in the same location twice - yet hundreds of oral testimonies swear to its existence. Tonight I will cobble together disparate accounts from those who claim to have toured the fabled roadside museum. My hope is this will paint you a picture of what the experience was like for those who wound up touring a space dedicated completely to themselves. 

“I was driving down Route 8,” Maise Bridges stated to the Columbus Dispatch in 1955. “It was late and dark. No other cars were on the road. Then I saw it - a billboard illuminated by a single dim light that read: Know Thyself, Next Exit. No other words. But next to them, taking up the entirety of the right side was a painted picture - of me. Unmistakably me. Done in a sort of… Norman Rockwell style I suppose. I just… What was I supposed to do? Of course I took the next exit.” 

All descriptions of The House of Narcissus begin this way. A strange billboard on a lonely road, mere seconds to decide to take the exit or not. Oddly, there are few confirmed cases of those who saw the billboard and kept driving. It’s impossible to say if that says something overall about human nature or merely the people The House chose to manifest for.

“I was overwhelmed when I first drove up to the house,” Curtis Johnson said to the Louisville Times in 1948. “I’m not ashamed to admit it, but I might have cried a bit. I mean the place was just, just magnificent. Out there, in the middle of this grassy field, in the middle of nowhere there’s this small piece of heaven, you know? I didn’t feel like I was about to tour some cheap-o roadside scam where they show you a mannequin in a five dollar gorilla suit and tell you it’s Bigfoot. I felt like I was home. Of course I rushed right outta my car up to the door. Why wouldn’t I? I was home.”

Descriptions of the museum are typically left vague. Abstract. At least when describing the exterior. Visitors will speak of the joy they felt upon seeing the house. Often they’ll say a sense of nostalgia or homecoming overwhelmed them. However no one was ever able to give a single concrete detail of what The House looked like. How many stories were there? What color was the siding? What the house looks like remains a mystery to this day. But there’s much agreement about its interior. At least in some respects.

“There’re no employees, no turnstyle to go through, nothing like a museum or roadside attraction typically has. You just go in the front door, and you’re suddenly there - in the first room. It’s filled with photographs along the walls. They were all of my family, friends, neighbors, teachers, former classmates, folks from my church, employers, co-workers. People I might have talked to only once in passing. None of these were photos I took or remember anyone else ever taking. None are in any photo album I own,” said Judge Michael Harvester in 1972, when he called into the KIRT radio station of Olympia, Washington. 

The Photo Gallery is always the first room visitors find themselves in. Under each photo is a brass plaque, on which a single sentence is etched: the last words said by whomever is touring the house to the person featured in the photograph.

Even this first room can be disarming to a visitor. As Judge Harvester said: “You don’t realize how many people you speak to, thinking you’ll do so again, but then never do. It adds up over a life. It really does. I didn’t look at all the pictures, or read all the plaques. I had to stop after awhile. I saw one in particular… the last words I said to an old neighbor of mine, lived a few houses away from the place I bought right after law school. Me, him, and some of the guys down the block would get together to play poker twice a month. Last thing I said to him, ‘I’ll see you in a few weeks.’ I don’t remember what happened after that. I guess the poker game fell apart. I don’t think either of us moved, I don’t remember us getting into any fights. But I never spoke to him again. And that’s just one example. People like to call that first room the photo gallery, and that makes sense, I guess. But that’s not what it is. It’s a monument. A monument to lost relationships.”

Most visitors to The House expressed regret coming there at all after visiting this first room. Unfortunately, the way they entered disappears after entry - replaced by a wall filled with photographs. Once you enter, The House forces you to continue through the rooms. That is, if you wish to leave.

“The second room was a full scale replica of my childhood home,” said Sara Lopez to the San Diego Tribune in 1966. “All five rooms of our house back on Balboa Avenue. “I went through the cabinets in the kitchen. The dishes… they were identical to ones we had. There were these little hand drawn designs on them. They’re abstract, hard to describe, but the plates in that museum. They matched perfectly how I remembered them. It was impossible.” Most statements regarding the second room share similar amazement at the level of detail on even the most insignificant items - stains on the carpet, entryways scuffed and dirty from children’s shoes. “What really got me about the second room, “Sara Lopez said, “were the smells. The kitchen had this overwhelming odor of garlic and cumin, spices my mother put in everything. The carpet near the entryway smelled like wet dog. Our lab, Daisy, would run through our neighbors sprinkler then come inside, right to that patch of carpet, and roll around. Little things like that, I’d forgotten about completely. Hadn’t thought of in years, but suddenly a million memories came rushing back to me.”

The average visitor reported spending somewhere between four to five hours in The House of Narcissus. There were outliers of course, in both directions. Some, after seeing the photo gallery, ran through the other rooms without lingering. Others claimed to have spent days and only left when they were near dehydration.

There are dozens of other rooms in The House. Too many to go over tonight. But I’ll end by stating what’s in the only obligatory room, the last room. The room with the only way out.

At the very end of a long hallway is a plain wooden door with a small sign above that reads: What if…

Inside is a small movie theatre. There’s a single red cushioned seat in the room with the perfect view of a small screen. To the right of the screen is a door with an exit sign above. The door will not open unless the visitor sits down in the chair and watches, truly watches and listens, to the film that plays in that small theatre.

“On the day of what was supposed to be my wedding I called my best friend - my bridesmaid. I cried and I gave her the awful job of telling my husband-to-be I’d changed my mind,” said Tonya Blanton to the Sante Fe Dispatch in 1958. “I was living in Minneapolis at the time. Born there, was to be married there, figured I’d die there eventually too. I don’t know what overcame me. But I got in my car and drove. Found myself in New Mexico and started a new life. My parents were furious. And I never spoke to the man who was to be my husband ever again. He sent me a letter when I’d settled in Santa Fe. I wasn’t brave enough to open it. But in that last room. In that last room of that awful house - a film played. It showed what my life would have been had I stayed in Minneapolis. I won’t… I won’t say what all I saw. What all I missed out on. All I’ll say is I know I made the wrong choice. I’ve thought about that every single day since visiting that terrible place.”

Tonya Blanton is not a unique case. Chicago journalist Studs Terkel in his book The American Road: An Oral History devoted a chapter to The House of Narcissus. He conducted over twenty interviews with those who'd toured the roadside wonder. When asked if they could change places and live the life they saw in that last room - would they? Every person he interviewed said they would.

The House of Narcissus only existed for some sixty odd years. The last known visit occurred in 1977, outside of Spring Green, Wisconsin. “People say I must’ve burned the place down or something,” Buddy Palmer, the last recognized visitor, said to the Madison Gazette in 1980. “I didn’t, I swear,” he went on, “but if I had some matches and kerosene on me, would I of? Sure thing. No one should ever be forced to watch the movie that plays in that last room. I’ll think of that picture the rest of my life. I’ll know I messed up early on and I’m not living my best, happiest life. You know how hard it is to get out of the bed in the morning with that hanging over you? Sometimes that movie plays in my dreams. I usually gotta call in sick to work the next day when it does. I just can’t stop thinking about it. The rest of the place too… it’s just... Just too much.”

For those of you listening to this while driving alone, rest assured, you’re unlikely to see a billboard with your own face staring back at you and the words: Know Thyself, Next Exit. But in the rare chance such an event occurs, please consider my advice: don’t take that exit. Just keep driving. There are some truths about ourselves perhaps better left unexplored.

And now back to our main show.

[[TIOA music fades out]]

​​ACT II

RYDER

And we're back and we already have a caller on the line. Why don't you tell us your name and the nature of your supernatural problem.

RENE

Hello, Malcolm. I was wondering if we'd ever get the chance to speak again.

RYDER

(uncertain)

I don't recognize your voice. Have you called into the show before?

RENE

A few times, yes. And we met once or twice in person.

A beat.

RYDER

Who is this?

RENE

My name is Rene Dupont. And though I've explained this to you before, I will kindly do so again. I exist with a peculiar condition. People can rarely retain memories of me. Not in any form. As this conversation gets to a certain point, I'll begin to vanish from your mind as well as most of your listeners. If you try to write down anything about me during this call, you'll likely only produce gibberish or the vaguest of details.

RYDER

I've read case studies of similar situations. There was a man in Utah-

RENE

(interrupts)

Yes, yes.

Nathaniel Cotwell who lived in a small town that couldn't create new memories of him past the age of eight. And so as an adult they'd still treat him as if he were a young boy. You studied him and Sarah Pullman of Butte, Montana who went missing one night in the woods. When she found her way home again, her family had completely forgotten her.

A beat.

RENE

The few times we've spoken, you've wished to demonstrate knowledge of people who've existed with Memory-related ailments and those are your two most common examples.

RYDER

It seems we have spoken before. Mr. Dupont-

RENE

Please, call me Rene. No need for formalities. We're old acquaintances after all.

RYDER

Yes. Of course. And why have you called into the show tonight, Rene?

RENE

There's been a man following me. Repeatedly.

A beat.

RYDER

(realizing what he means)

And of course that's a difficult task to accomplish, as it's so hard to remember you.

RENE

You're correct. I am Anonymity Incarnate. But there's a man in a grey suit who seems to have found my scent. A further detail about him: he's missing one of his fingers. I'll let you guess which.

RYDER

Why is The Traveling Salesman after you?

RENE

I called you in search of an answer to that very question.

RYDER

In all likelihood he wishes to strike a deal with you. That's why he seeks anyone out. That, or to kill them.

RENE

Let's assume the former for the moment: what sort of deal would he want to make with me?

RYDER

I have no idea. Perhaps he needs information from someone. But he doesn't want this person to know they've given their secrets up. I imagine with your talent that's something you'd be good at.

RENE

Before the wall was destroyed in '89 I was employed on both sides doing something akin to what you just suggested.

A beat.

RYDER

Then that might be what he wants. Or perhaps something more... metaphysical.

RENE

Such as?

RYDER

Your ability to be forgotten. Julian already has some power over memory, but not that.

RENE

Could he really take that from me?

RYDER

Not take. Trade. The Salesman doesn't steal, Rene, but his deals are often one-sided, exploitive, as he'll neglect to tell you pertent information before you agree.

RENE

So he wouldn't really be taking something from me so much as he'd be giving me the gift of being able to be remembered.

A beat.

RYDER

That's a dangerous way of viewing such a deal.

RENE

Dangerous for you, perhaps, but of great advantage to me.

RYDER

It would be dangerous for the whole country for The Traveling Salesman to be easily forgotten. One of the few weapons we have against him are the memories of devastation he's brought about by the deals he's made. The only reason anyone ever turns him down is because his reputation precedes him. Take that away-

RENE

(interrupts)

I have the means and resources to go to many other countries. Julian Holloway can have this one.

RYDER

You'd potentially sacrifice hundreds of millions of people to-

RENE

(interrupts)

To be remembered. And yes, I would. This "talent" of mine came to me when I was young. For most my life I've been unable to have a meaningful relationship with another human being.

To even have an extended conversation. What's my name?

RYDER

Rene...

Malcolm searches his mind for the surname.

RYDER

Rene Dupont.

RENE

You're close to forgetting already, Malcolm Ryder.

A beat.

RENE

If I made a deal with your friend for him to take this power away, you'd never even know.

RYDER

The Traveling Salesman is not my friend.

RENE

If your former friend might help me where no one else could before, including yourself, then I would take him up on his offer.

RYDER

That is if he even wants to help you. He could be searching for you, as I already said, to kill you.

RENE

And why would that be his objective?

RYDER

There are limitations to his power. I don't fully know what they are, but I know they exist.

RENE

Again I ask, why would this necessitate him wanting me dead?

RYDER

Because you possess power in one of his realms - Memory and Dream. And if you have more power than he does, and if he can't use you, or your power, towards his own ends, he'll want you dead. You're a liability otherwise.

A beat.

RENE

You're bluffing. Trying to stoke fear in me so I stay away from him. So I can't make a deal. If what you said was true, your friend Charlotte Price would be dead.

RYDER

Charlotte has found ways to take care of herself. She's forged alliances with things even Julian fears. Have you done the same?

A beat.

RENE

What you're telling me is that I need leverage before I allow Julian Holloway to try and offer a deal to me.

RYDER

That's not what I'm saying at all. Under no circumstances should you attempt to make any deal with him.

RENE

That's not what I took away from this conversation. Thank you so much, Malcolm. As always, you've been helpful.

RYDER

No, wait-

Dial tone.

A long pause.

RYDER

There was someone on the line just now. I swear there was.

I have notes I made, most are illegible which isn't like me. Of what I can read: Shadow, Mirror, Flesh, Spirit, and Dream. I tried to write Memory but it seems my hand was unable to. Odd...

A beat.

RYDER

I think we'll end the show there tonight. I'd like to play back the recording of the past several minutes. See if I can see what I'm missing.

A beat.

RYDER

But if you're experiencing anything supernatural, paranormal, or otherworldly, please feel free to call in next time on A Voice From Darkness.

[[AVFD outro music fades in and out.]]

[my-arlington-academia]

Cliffany part 2

O-kay, and that’s it! I don’t know if I’ll write a continuation tbh since it was just a silly little idea that came out of nowhere. (Although I did have some ideas for more!) I haven’t really been active on my fanblog lately so it’s not like it’ll make much of a difference though haha. By the way, I’m thinking about making my blog more "Dulcet-oriented" rather than just SE. I hope you guys don’t mind? Recently, I’ve been getting more and more into Black Tarot! So expect my blog to change a lil 🔮🕯🌌

--------------------

It had been a couple of days now since Tiffany’s last interaction with Claire, and while she was still ignoring her like before, Tiffany’s efforts in doing so had increased. The moment she spotted her in the corner of her eye, she would move at a faster pace, as if running away. Was it guilt after all? No, she just didn’t have the energy to deal with Claire’s annoying and unnecessary empathy. The empathy that she knew she didn’t deserve which made her feel even more frustrated towards Claire.

All she should be worried about right now is getting more followers on Instaglam, not avoiding a nobody like the plague. On that note, spring was coming soon, the flowers started to blossom and the days were getting longer which meant... that the "cottagecore" tag on insta would go trending soon, no doubt! And of course, living on the Arlington campus as one of its students, this gave Tiffany the access to its beautiful garden. Although honestly, she only ever went there to take pictures and this time wasn’t any different. She had prepared some tea sets and dresses for the occasion, all of which she would throw away once spring went away along with its "trends."

Carried by her confident footsteps, she walked to the garden. That confidence was only a facade though. She knew exactly what kind of people and who in particular went to take strolls quite often in this goddamn garden. But hey, it was 7pm and the sun would soon start to set. Knowing that Claire always arrives 15 minutes in advance to any meeting and most likely always wakes up at 6am, there was nothing to be worried about. Chances are, she was either doing her homework before going to bed like a goody-two-shoes or watering her weird-ass plants. Tiffany always had the horror of seeing these at Raquel’s parties. It just didn’t fit at all with the rest of what was going on in the room and ruined the whole "party" vibe.

In any case, there she was, searching for a good spot to take pictures and set up a fake picnic. That basket filled with different colored blankets, tea sets, biscuits, tea and a pie was way heavier than Tiffany had initially thought. Maybe she really should’ve asked for collab pictures with Trisha from the fine arts department. She didn’t really like her but when it came to follower count they were surprisingly close, although Tiffany was still number one of course. Still, if she had asked for a collab they could’ve carried those heavy props together.

After finding a good spot next to the pond, Tiffany set everything up in an aesthetically pleasing manner and got down to taking the pictures. She was taking different shots to post them one by one throughout the week and give out the illusion that she was taking those the same day she posted them. She was ready to upload the first one, call it a day and go back to the dorms without touching any of the tea or cakes. It’s all just useless calories anyways. As she was putting the tags on the picture, she started wondering what were the names of those flowers in the background.

"Ugh, fuck. What are those orange shits called again?"

"Marigolds."

"Ah right, thank y-"

Tiffany immediately snapped her head back. This annoyingly gentle voice could only belong to one person.

"...What the fuck, Claire. Where did you pop out from?!"

There’s no was she was there the whole time, right? It’s true that Tiffany could get lost in what she was doing once she was focused but it wasn’t to the point where she became completely unaware of her surroundings.

"I came by a few minutes ago... Y-you looked so invested in what you were doing that I didn’t want to bother you! I didn’t mean to pry."

Well, Tiffany could always upload those damn pictures from her room. Claire’s arrival just meant that it was time for her to leave. However, seeing that Tiffany started packing up her things, Claire panicked thinking that it’s her fault. Which was in fact, her fault... in a way.

"O-oh! You’re not going to finish your picnic? I’m so sorry, I’ll just leave! Throwing all of this good food away would be such a waste-"

"Are you fucking dumb?"

Did she not get that this was all only a set-up for taking pictures? It was obvious that Tiffany didn’t have any intention of eating or drinking any of that. Not to mention that after everything that happened the other day, she was still not scared of approaching her?

"I don’t give a damn about the food, it was just for my social media accounts you dumb bit- ... dimwit. I was already done anyway so you don’t have anything to do with the fact that I’m leaving."

"I see! T-then maybe I can help?!"

Help? What did Claire even know about- Actually, on second thought. This whole "cottagecore" shtick was a great fit for Claire. She probably already had all of the things Tiffany bought last week for those pictures, even better and more authentic-looking ones probably. This was maybe the one and only time Tiffany would let Claire "help" her. But from her point of view, she was mostly just using her.

"Hm. Is that so? How can you help me then... Claire."

"Wait just a second! I’ll be back right away!!!"

She ran immediately towards the dorms. Well, she'll probably bring a bunch of random stuff. In the end, Tiffany was really torn between the idea of staying and waiting for who knows how long and the idea of leaving right now. Surely, Claire would make a hilarious expression when she’d realize that she was played with and abandoned. While trying to laugh it off, Tiffany accidentally remembered what happened a few days ago, along with Claire’s crying face. Damn... Okay, fine. She’ll wait for her but only because it would be annoying if she bawled again like a damn toddler.

And so she waited until, from the corner of her eyes, she saw a girl with a pink dress running towards her. That girl, of course, being Claire. She carried a picnic basket with her too, but much bigger and more practical. For half a second, Tiffany thought that Claire actually looked maybe, just maybe, a little bit pretty. She erased the thought in a hurry, covering it with harsh words as usual.

"Wh-why did you change your clothes? You think I’m gonna take pictures of you?"

"Ah, no, well..."

Claire looked at the beautiful picnic set-up and the cyan dress Tiffany was wearing.

"I just wanted to fit in with the rest of what you put up, I guess. Also, don’t you think that we kinda match? I brought some of the cookies I baked and my favorite teas and tea set. I think mine will look better with your picnic blanket! Uh- N-not to say that yours looks bad!!!"

She was trying so hard to make herself likable that it was painful to see... and kinda cute. God, Tiffany was really hating her thoughts today. She was just going soft because of Claire’s aura or something. Again, this was definitely the first and last time she was letting Claire help her with anything. I’d be bad if she turns completely brain-dead and clueless like her.

"...Whatever. Show me what you got. I’ll decide if it’s good enough."

Claire was pulling everything out of the basket one by one. Everytime, better and better items were pulled out after the other. Her cakes and cookies gave off a "homey" feeling which was more fitting with the aesthetic rather than Tiffany’s store bought patisseries. Claire was staring at her, wide-eyed and excited.

"W-what do you think, Tiffany? It looks good, doesn’t it?!"

"Uh. Yeah, it’s fine, I guess. I’ll take a few pics."

That was a lie. This looked so much better than the try-hard bullshit Tiffany had done. She was good at riding on the "trend wave" but Claire was a natural when it came to this one specific thing. Tiffany was trying to look as poker-faced as she could so as to not show her satisfaction, but clearly, her apparent enthusiasm for each shot was  betraying her. Sometimes, she would accidentally take one with Claire in the shot and ask her to move.

"Hey. You’re ruining the picture with your ugly fac- dress. Move to the right."

Before Tiffany could even do anything about it, Claire was already pouring some tea into 2 cups.

"Woah woah woah, put the teapot down. I didn’t agree to this."

"But...This is a kettle, Tiffany. Not a teapot."

"Oh, shut it!"

Claire gave off such a dejected face that Tiffany, once again, felt like she was kicking a poor puppy to the ground. She held back on going off on a rant.

"But we’re already here and the weather is so nice! It would be such a shame not to use any of this at all..."

Claire looked around, observing this beautiful setting, not to mention, the sun was finally starting to set. Going home right now would be like an insult to the utter beauty of this scene, it almost looked like it came right out of a fairy tale picture book. Without mulling it over any further, Tiffany took a sip out of her cup.

"I’m only doing this because I feel compelled to, got it?"

Claire’s eyes lit up nonetheless.

"Alright! Please try out my cookies too!"

Tiffany contemplated them for a second... is it true that home-made stuff is more healthy? Surely, that’s just a myth, right? A cake from the store and a home-made cake will have about the same amount of sugar in them regardless of who made them and how. Well, she did see Claire share her food from time to time with her friends and while she would never admit it, it is true that she was a bit curious about trying them herself. What was the last time she had eaten anything "home-made"? Or did it ever even happen?

"...Okay, whatever. I bet they taste shitty."

Tiffany reluctantly took a bite... It was surprisingly really delicious!

"It’s bad."

"R-really?"

As much as she wanted to lie about it, she couldn’t after seeing Claire make that dejected face again.

"Uhhh. No, um. Hmm... On second thought, it’s pretty average. It’s okay-ish."

Tiffany really hated herself right now. Being mean has never been this hard before. She couldn’t wait for the moment where they would be done with this ridiculous play-pretend and go back to her room. She tried drinking and eating as fast as she could without making it look like she was in a hurry to run away from this awkward situation. And God, it was so fucking hard...

Unsurprisingly, they were both pretty silent the whole time. Well, it wasn’t like they had anything to converse about or things in common. Right as Tiffany was about to get up and pack up her belongings, for real this time, Claire spoke up. Nervously fiddling with the hem of her dress.

"Um. So you know, I have something to confess to you, Tiffany."

Oh God, not now. As much as Tiffany found this timing annoying, she couldn’t help but poke fun at that poor choice of words.

"Confess? Oh my, so you like me in that way, huh? That explains everything."

"Wha- N-no! That’s not it! I mean, realistically speaking, t-that would never even happen!"

Was she implying that she could never like someone like Tiffany? Well, Tiffany herself was the one who brought this up but she was a bit offended at that statement. Regardless though, the way she was trying to deny it so hard was kinda cute. No. Not cute at all! If this went on, Tiffany would really become crazy before the end of this day.

"Last time, you said that I was only being kind towards others to profit off of them and I didn’t say anything but... that wasn’t true at all! I always wanted to help you because I thought that you needed it, I swear. Not to satisfy myself! ... Well. Except maybe..."

"Except...?"

"T-today. I admit that I kind of had ulterior motives."

Now that piqued Tiffany’s curiousness right away. Suddenly, she didn’t want to leave as much anymore if it meant that Claire would finally admit that she did some things for her own benefit. Why was it? Did she want to post a picture of herself on Tiffany’s Instaglam to fish for compliments, knowing that she had a lot of followers? Claire hid her face behind her hands and muttered a few words.

"I... wanted you to warm up to me."

"...Huh?"

That’s it? That was it? Claire’s ulterior motive was for Tiffany to "warm up to her."?

"So like, you want us to be friends or some shit?"

"Oh no! Not necessarily that far, just... good acquaintances!"

Is she stupid? There’s no way that she genuinely thinks those "motives" are bad. Tiffany sighed in exasperation.

"Listen. I’m just really tired right now, I don’t have the energy to assimilate all the shit you’re saying. I’m packing all of this up and going back to the dorms."

In complete silence, they gathered all of their belongings and walked to the dorms while keeping a fair distance between the 2 of them. As if to say, "we’ve got nothing to do with each other." Surprisingly, Claire didn’t try anything anymore. Didn’t even wish for a "good night" or a "good evening" which was weird to say the least. Tiffany tried to ignore it and when she got back and unpacked all of the props, she noticed something that didn’t belong to her. One of Claire’s lunch boxes with cookies in them and... a note?

Here’s my number just in case ;3 Please give me my lunchbox back once you’re done eating the cookies!♡

"...Your note makes me wanna barf."

So that’s why she didn’t try anything. That sneaky little... she must've slid that into the basket when they were packing. She already knew that Tiffany would eventually be forced to talk to her again... as if! Who says she’ll return it? She can just throw all the cookies away along with the box... Or so she thought. Tempted, she took a bite, then another one. And another one. Her diet was ruined for sure now. Damn you Claire and your stupidly great cooking skills, as if you needed another skill to be better and more perfect than you already are. Tiffany put the box away, trying to forget the delicious taste and smell. Back to Instaglam she goes. Uploading the picture while adding the "marigold" tag on it. Going through the pictures again, she noticed that some of them had Claire in the corner. She was thinking of deleting them but... well whatever. She can just crop her out later if needed. Her dress looks pretty so it’s fine even if she does appear in the pictures. All we see is a bit of her hair, as long as her face isn’t visible, it’s okay. Yup. It was totally not because Tiffany was slowly starting to feel something towards the girl she was trying so hard not to get involved with.

[aseriesofunfortunatejan]

Another novel commentary

Not an actual commentary - just a couple reactions I wanted to share, mostly because not many people care. Still, I think there are probably a lot of people who watched Another because it was such a classic and didn’t even know there was a novel. Hell, I’d been fed the lie that it was an anime original and that the manga was an adaptation of the anime for years... for some reason.

I haven’t read the third novel, Another S/O (Où est le mort ? / Where is the dead? in french) yet so this is only about the main story: Volume 1 “Celle qui n’existait pas / She who didn’t exist” and Volume 2 “La fille à l’œil de poupée / The girl with the doll eye” in french. I like to cite the french titles because I think they are pretty cool, and I believe they did not exist in the original and english versions.

I will not be including spoilers of specific deaths and events but I will speaking as if the person reading this already knew Another.

Let me start by saying that reading Sei Hatsuno’s commentary at the end was quite the wholesome experience. They seemed to truly admire the author of the novel I’d just read. I liked that.

So... if it wasn’t already clear, I seriously enjoyed it. As someone who’s been kept from reading by mental illness despite it having been my passion for years, being able to read and enjoy Another put me in a good mood. (Basically, I live in fear of what’s coming now that I’m done. Damn...)

I was able to appreciate how good of an adaptation the anime actually was. I mean, more often than not, the anime isn’t so great and “you should really read the manga/novel/whichever came first”, right? Honestly, I don’t feel like all these years of loving Another from the anime were a lie. Though it was short, it was simply enough a good adaptation. A few elements were changed here and there, yes - but I believe it stayed true to the essence of the story, and those differences are what make me want to say you should read the novel AND watch the anime. Yes! Both are actually very good. It makes perfect sense when that one character dies earlier in the novel, but the scene of their death in the anime was actually a pretty good one that efficiently showed how students from Class 3-3 felt at the time.

And yes, the rumours are true... Akazawa - best girl Akazawa... barely exists in the novel. And it’s true, it’s sad. She was seriously interesting in the anime, and despite not having watched it in years, I have a strong memory of her. Still, it’s clearly not a flaw from the novel - it’s a quality from the adaptation(s). What little we see of her in the novel serves to show, discreetely but efficiently, Sakakibara’s negative feelings towards kids his age. He regularly mentions “not liking girls like her”, but the truth is, he doesn’t like the popular guys either. There needed to be characters like Akazawa and her friends because Teshigawara was an exception, meaning that he didn’t represent properly his distate for “cooler” kids. At the end of the day - and I say that with nothing but love in my heart - Sakakibara is just a nerd who coincidentially got bullied in his previous school. He tries to be cool about it, but deep down, he knows.

It’s true that I loved him, though. I didn’t have strong memories of him from the anime (which, again, I rewatched multiple times, but not in a good few years) but I remember liking him already. He was a pretty compelling character, and I liked reading through his well-hidden insecurities while still having him try his best rather than falling into whatever stereotype he could. I’m not that person who likes to ship the obvious straight ship, especially not when the characters are teenagers, but his crush (that he won’t fully admit to having, but once again, deep down, he knows) on Misaki was cute and worked.

Misaki is not like other girls. She has an eyepatch, she’s grieving AND she’s an introvert. I like to joke about it but that, too, works. That weird kid in class who’s silent and has multiple traumas exists in real life, and it didn’t feel exaggerated when it came to Misaki, to me at least. In my opinion a small flaw of the anime is that it made her look too stand-offish and ghostly, whereas the novel (the french edition of which doesn’t have illustrations) would have you think she looks pretty normal, and the eyepatch is what’s weird. She’s pale but “I have pretty skin and I’m japanese” pale, not “my skin colour is #FFFFFF” anime pale. Either way, since he’s a NEEEERD, of course Sakakibara would get kind of a 👉👈 crush on the introverted girl who doesn’t get along with the mean girls he worries about.

So yes, it’s all solid in my opinion. So are the story and its twists. Knowing them ahead of time was an experience to say the least... I wonder how I would have felt about the few clues that were scattered ahead of time if I didn’t already know what they meant. I think those were pretty clever, though.

By the almost-end-of-it, I became worried that the ending would be unsatisfactory, that there would be too many unfair deaths, but it didn’t feel like that in the end. Sure, one death I’m pretty frustrated about... But I think I always was, even when it was different in the anime. (Why am I going through the effort of making this spoilers free?) It was violent for sure, because it’s Another, duh, but it felt right enough, and I’m not worried about leaving Sakakibara and my other faves in this state of things.

Speaking of faves - from memory, in the anime, I loved Teshigawara and Akazawa. Of course Akazawa is out the window (laughs) (actually doesn’t laugh), and I still liked Teshigawara. Well, uh... There’s that one thing he did I still need to wrap my head around, but I think we can heal from that, apparently we can. Still, I was glad that he was still actually a cool character. Another character I don’t remember having strong feelings towards in the anime, but I actually liked a lot in the novel, was Mochizuki. Baby boy. Baby. Silly baby boy. Baby.

Uhm... Well, the only thing I actually missed was that one beach episode from the anime. It doesn’t exist in the novel, but I guess it goes hand in hand with Akazawa not being an important character. So though I loved the novel, the anime has that going for it for sure.

Yeah, both are great. The anime is an amazing memory from my childhood (yes, my childhood). It was my first anime ever and though it’s been a while now, I rewatched it many times. I’m sure it’s not the best anime ever or whatever... But I now know that it’s a great adaptation, and I cherish it either way. As for the novel, I seriously had a good time reading it. The protagonist is good. The other important characters are good as well. Reiko felt a little more special in the anime in my opinion... But Sakakibara’s point of view of her was valuable in the novel. The story is told well. I definitely recommend reading it.

Like I mentioned in some of my first posts, there are points in the first volume where I could tell the writing was adapted to teenagers. But first of all, if you’re reading this, there’s a good chance you’re a teenager anyway, isn’t there? Huh-uh. Well, I’m not anymore somehow, and I got used to it, especially as there was less and less small talk and the story was in motion. Those weird impressions I had that the french translators had struggled a little bit with translating some japanese speech-mannerisms had long left me by the second volume. And I think it’s interesting how Sei Hatsuno’s commentary mentions (yes, I’m coming back to that!) it being both a thriller and a teen story. You can’t really help it when the main characters are middle-schoolers, can you? But there’s a reason Another is such a classic even in spite of that.

I’m glad this story exists and is part of my life. It’ll always stay a classic to me, both anime and novel.

[satan-stop-laying-on-my-laptop]

𖤍『𝕙𝕖𝕒𝕧𝕖𝕟||𝕊𝕚𝕞𝕖𝕠𝕟』𖤍

TRIGGER WARNING FOR VOMIT!

Pairing: Simeon X M!Reader

___________________________________________________________________

  You nervously watched the clock at the front of the classroom that was full of demons, you and most importantly, Simeon, your crush ever since you’ve arrived in Devildom for the exchange program. 

  Thing is, you loved the angel so very much, but you knew he wouldn’t reciprocate your feelings. After all, he was an angel of The Lord, The Lord your parents told you that he would throw you away from the pearly white gates into hell for liking guys. Now, here you are, sitting in Devildom with your angelic crush, that probably would hate you if word of your feelings ever got out.

  You always tried to deny your feelings towards the beautiful angel at first, avoiding eye contact and convincing yourself it was just the anxiety of meeting a new friend. Then those feelings got stronger and you could no longer deny it: You, (F/N) (L/N) are in love with Simeon, one of The Lord’s angels. You couldn’t resist loving him. He was perfect. Dark hair, clear dark skin that was nothing less than perfection, a body that looked like a master sculptor created him, his soothing voice that never failed to make you weak in the knees and his eyes, his beautiful blue eyes that captivated you and stared straight into your soul.

  You didn’t even realize the bell rang until your incubus friend, (Name), tapped your shoulder. Snapping out of your little trance, you look up at your demon friend, who was looking at you with a concerned glint in his mischievous eyes.

  “Hey (Y/N), you okay? You’ve been spacing out lately…” He asked, worried. You nodded with a sheepish smile on your face.

  “Yeah, I just got a lot on my mind…” You replied as you began to shove your books in your book bag. Your friend nodded before asking something that would cause you trouble later.

  “Do you wanna talk about it? We could head to the music room if you want. It’s usually empty.”

  It was a compelling offer. You could tell your closest friend here about what’s been going on in your conflicted brain, full of toxic thoughts, and feel some of the weight of your burden lift off your shoulders.

  “Yeah, Let’s go.” You said after a bit of thought. Smiling, you stood up from your seat, pushing your chair before beginning to follow your friend to the music, which was close to your next class so you didn’t mind a quick vent session here. Sitting on the bench in front of the piano, your friend looks at you, as if to say ‘The stage is yours’. Taking a deep breath, you began to pour out your heart.

  “Well, you see...I really like Simeon, like- not even like, it’s more like love. I’ve tried to ignore these feelings but I- I can’t! They won’t go away and I want to act on them, but he’s an angel of the LORD! A man my parents told me would banish me to the pits of HELL for even liking men in the romantic sense! I- I just don’t know...I don’t want to ruin the friendship I have with him because of my feelings. I don’t want him to see me as a disgusting pervert who likes men…” You vented these feelings to your friend, stopping once the one minute bell rang, signalling for everyone to hurry to class. Standing up, (M/N) smiled and patted your head.

  “I gotta go, but thanks for telling me! Let’s talk more about this later.” The way he acted as he left the room left you confused and worried. What’s with this hurried attitude of his? It’s weird.

  Little did you know, you’d find out during lunch.

  You sigh as you exited the music room and briskly walked to your Devildom History class, which you shared with Solomon and again, Simeon. You loved yet hated that class. You loved the subject and the fact you had two friends that sat next to you, but the teacher’s voice made you sleepy and Solomon is a chaotic bastard, but you had to resist the urge to backhand the bastard sorcerer because Simeon was there and you didn’t him to think you were aggressive.

  Entering your class as the bell rang, you took your seat next to Simeon and across from Solomon, Solomon let out a hum as he watched you sit down in your seat. It wasn’t often you came in late. It’s happened a few times but that’s because you were either using the restroom or had to give papers to a teacher during passing period, but usually you would text him or Simeon if you were gonna be a little later than usual.

  “(Y/N), Where were you?” Solomon asked, looking at you curiously. You shifted in your seat nervously, fumbling over your words as you attempted to make up an excuse as to why you were late. As much as you hated lying, you couldn’t let them know about the little vent session you had because you knew he would ask your friend later about what went on.

  “O-Oh, I just got caught up talking to someone who missed a day and needed the notes.” You lied through your teeth with a smile, praying that your lie was convincing enough for him to noy question you further. Giving you a suspicious glance, he somehow knew you didn’t want to talk about what actually went down.

  “Oh okay, I was about to ask Simeon here if you even showed up to class.” He hummed as he looked over at Simeon, who nodded with a smile.

  “Yes, he was here last period. However, (Y/N), you seemed really out of it. Are you okay?” He asked as he looked at you, a slight glimmer of concern sparkled in his cerulean eyes. Your face heated up a little as you looked to your desk and nodded, avoiding eye contact with the angel you loved oh so dearly.

  “Yeah, just tired, I guess…” You answered as you reached into your bag, grabbing your notebook and pencil case while the teacher entered the room and headed to the front, which was your cue to open your notebook to begin taking notes once the teacher began to teach.

  Devildom History flew by quickly since the notes were short and sweet and you guys had gotten a simple worksheet to do with our table, so it was a breeze for you three. However, next was lunch, which would bring you the most despair. 

  Walking into the cafeteria, you immediately noticed that other demons were looking at you weirdly and whispering among themselves which made you nervous. What were they talking about? Usually, you wouldn't worry about it, but something in your gut told you it wasn't something nice.

  You tried to deny that disgusting feeling in your gut that made you wanna vomit out whatever was in your stomach. You were doing so well until halfway to the lunchroom, you ended up hearing what the other students were talking about.

  "Didn't you hear? (Y/n) has a crush on Simeon." Hearing those words felt so wrong. There was no way they could've known that. You only told one person-...oh.

  You stopped in your tracks, Simeon and Solomon turned to face you, since they noticed you fell behind. Simeon frowned as he walked over to you, clearing not hearing the whispers from the others.

  "(Y/N), are you-" You didn't even stay to let him finish the sentence and you bolted to the nearest boy's restroom, throwing yourself into the first open stall you saw and locking it. Tears were falling down and you felt so damn sick. You couldn't believe it, that bastard betrayed your trust and told EVERYONE about something you weren't ready to tell anyone, this took you months to tell him and now within one class period, the entire school fucking knew about your dirty secret.

  Soon enough, you collapsed on the dirty bathroom floor and began to throw up in the toilet, your body couldn't handle the stress anymore and you just puked out stomach acid since you truthfully didn't eat much this morning. Once the vomiting stopped, you leaned against the stall door, panting heavily as tears streamed down your face in great amounts. 

  You thought you would have more time to yourself so you could cry but turns out no one in Devildom, The Celestial Realm or the Human world planned for that to fucking happen since you faintly heard the bathroom door open and someone step inside. Quickly, you cover your mouth, hoping you could muffle your sobs enough so the person who just entered the bathroom could do what they needed to do and leave without questioning why you were crying in a bathroom stall. Again, you weren't that lucky.

  "(Y/N)? Are you in here?" You tensed up heavily when you heard his voice. You were scared to death. No, it wasn't Diavolo or Lucifer. It was Simeon. Out of everyone, it had to be the guy who probably hated you now. You decided to keep your pride and stay quiet, praying that he would leave.

  "(Y/N), I...I heard what they were saying," Are you fucking sERIOUS- "and, uhm...I want you to know that I'm not mad and this isn't going to tear us apart, if anything, if what they said is true...I like you too. More than friends." 

  What he just admitted made you throw your head back in surprise, causing you to hit your head on the fucking stall door, which made you and Simeon startled.

  Simeon...loves you back? You were so sure he would've hated you for loving him yet… he feels the same way.

  "(Y/N)?!" In a heartbeat, he was outside that stall door, knocking on it. You gently sighed and shakingly stood up, holding onto the metal bar on the side for stability so you didn't fall.

  "...did...you mean what you said?" You asked meekly through the door. Before you come out of the bathroom stall you're hiding in, you need to make sure so you don't make a fool of yourself again.

  "Of course! I wouldn't lie to you, (Y/N)..." You could hear his voice and almost knew he was telling the truth. Taking a deep breath, you gently unlocked the door and opened it, revealing your post-breakdown state to the angel you loved.

  "(Y/n)! Are you okay?" Simeon's hands came to gently rest on your shoulders, his cerulean eyes scanning your frame to make sure you were okay. Gently nodding, you wipe the stray tears from your face as you steady your breathing.

  "Yeah...I just was stressed that I got outed by someone I trusted." You mumbled. Simeon nodded understandingly as he pulled you to his chest, holding you close to him as he gently pressed a kiss to your forehead.

  "I'm glad you love me too, I wish I could've found out through you, though."

  "Believe me, me too."

  We shared a brief laugh at my comment before Simeon pulled back and gently grabbed your hand, smiling sweetly at you.

  "Come on, let's go get some lunch. I'm sure you're hungry, my little lamb." You smiled at the nickname and nodded.

  "Alright, let's go."

____________________

Reposted from my wattpad oneshot book "devildom tales || obey me x reader"

My wattpad:strawberryenby

[haledamage]

Double Date

I’m very late in the day posting this, but I still got it before Valentine’s Day is over so I’m counting it as a win! this is sort of for OC Kiss Week, and since technically there’s a kiss between OCs I’m still counting it

a Valentine’s Day double date featuring Wayhaven’s cutest couple, Nate Sewell and Abigail Jenings, from the POV of Kira Kingston, one half of Wayhaven’s most awkward not-couple. AJ belongs to my dear @queen-scribbles, Kira is mine, Nate and Adam are from The Wayhaven Chronicles

---

Kira set a pair of mugs on the squat coffee table in her living room. One mug, proudly proclaiming its owner to be “Pure of Heart, Foul of Mouth, Smart of Ass” held a fresh cup of chai tea. The other, a beautiful handmade mug covered in sunflowers, belonged to Kira’s roommate, AJ, and was filled with coffee to the redhead’s very exacting taste.

It’s a quiet day in the apartment, something both women preferred and rarely got to enjoy. With work and Agency business - not to mention AJ's new boyfriend and Kira's… more complicated situation - it'd been a while since they'd been able to spend time together that didn’t involve casing a crime scene.

AJ had claimed the sofa, legs tucked under her and book open on her lap. It looked to be a very old tome, pages yellowed and spine cracked with time; it didn't take much to figure out where she must've gotten it - or rather, who she’d gotten it from.

Drinks delivered, Kira returned to the old gingham recliner and picked up her own book - a murder mystery; she’s pretty sure she knew who did it already, but didn’t want to skip ahead for vindication.

“Hey, Kir,” AJ's voice broke the silence and Kira's meandering thoughts. She waited for the brunette to hum in acknowledgement before asking, “You doin’ anythin’ on Sunday?”

Kira took a second to think about it, though she didn’t really need to. “I don't think so? In theory, I have the day off. Why?”

“Nate and I were thinkin’ o’ goin’ out and thought you might like t’ join us,” Abigail said in a rush.

Kira blinked. Then blinked again. “You're inviting me to third wheel on your date this weekend?”

“Not... exactly.”

“Spit it out, Red.”

“Y'see, we figured we could maybe…” AJ tugged on a wayward curl, straightening it out before letting it snap back to join the rest, “make it a double date.”

“A double--” Kira was half-tempted to pretend she didn't know who Abigail and Nate intended her date to be, but she knew she wasn’t fooling anyone anymore. “There's no fucking way Adam would agree to that, AJ.”

Grinning victoriously, AJ carefully closed her book so she could lean forward. “But if he did, would y’ go?”

There was no way Kira could say no to that hopeful look and she knew it. “Sure,” she sighed. “Okay. If you can convince Adam to go, then I will too.”

“Trust me, Kir,” Abigail said, patting her friend on the knee as she reached for her coffee, “it'll be fun.”

It's only later that night as she was setting her alarm that Kira realised with a sinking feeling what day Sunday was. She just got roped into a double date on Valentine's Day.

---

Kira resolutely refused to dress up. She was still pretty sure Adam wasn’t going to show up, and she didn’t want to third-wheel in uncomfortable shoes. She wore the same head-to-toe black she always did - though she did slap on some red lipstick at the last minute in an attempt to appear “festive.”

She felt vindicated when Sunday evening came around and AJ was dressed much the same way she normally was, blouse and waistcoat and adorable but ultimately unsuccessful attempt to tame her copper curls. She cycled between checking her phone, wringing her hands, and smoothing out imaginary wrinkles in her shirt; it looked like only sheer force of will was keeping her from pacing the length of their living room.

“C’mon, Red,” Kira said fondly. She put her hands on AJ’s shoulders. “Relax. You’ve been on dates with Nate before.”

“It’s our first Valentine’s Day.” She somehow sounded even more nervous than she looked.

“First of many.” That finally drew a smile to Abigail’s face. “You still haven’t told me where we’re going.”

“Hearts Festival,” she admitted quickly. “It was Nate’s idea, showin’ ‘em the local culture.”

“That’s… not a bad idea, actually.” Kira could feel herself relaxing under that knowledge. The Hearts Festival was a fair held every year in the Square, on or around Valentine’s Day. Most of the local artists and crafters set up little stalls of things intended to appeal to couples, but Kira and Abigail had found some of their favorite knick-knacks exploring it together. There was also music and cutesy romantic activities aplenty, but both of them were familiar enough with it that they could approach or avoid it on their own terms.

“Nate said Adam’s lookin’ forward to it,” the redhead said slyly.

“Nate was fucking lying.” Just like that her tension was back, which only made AJ smile wider. “I don’t think Adam knows how to look forward to things. Especially not when I’m involved.”

“Maybe. I guess we’ll see.”

As if on cue, there was a knock at the door. The brief measure of calm AJ had found was gone in a blink, nervously brushing a palm over her hair as if that might subdue it. Kira bit back a laugh and took pity on her friend, yelling, “It’s open!”

The door swung open and Nate and Adam stepped inside, the former immediately greeting his girlfriend with a warm smile, the latter scowling at nothing in particular.

Knowing her presence had been immediately forgotten, Kira ducked out of the way to avoid getting stuck between Nate and AJ as they gravitated toward each other like magnets. She busied herself with getting her coat on instead.

She only barely stifled a surprised gasp when Adam came over to help her with it. Neither of them said anything, looking anywhere except at each other.

Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to break the silence, grabbing the first topic that came to mind. “I’m surprised they talked you into this.” Her voice came out a little rough, so she cleared her throat and finally turned to face him, playful grin in place. “Did Nate have to blackmail you?”

A corner of his lips quirked up in a small smile. “Do you think I’m that averse to your company, Detective?”

She shrugged. “Valentine’s just doesn’t seem like your thing.”

“Perhaps,” he admitted, strangely reluctant. “Why did you agree to this, if you didn’t expect me to?”

“I’ve never been able to say no to AJ.” Kira glanced over at Abigail and her boyfriend, who may as well have been the only people in the room for the way they were wrapped up in each other. “Don’t tell her I said that, she’ll use it for evil.”

“Is it your thing?” he asked quietly, watching their friends as well. “All of… this?”

She scoffed. “Not really. I don’t think I’m a chocolates-and-flowers kind of girl.” She looked back at Adam to find him frowning at her words. If she didn’t know better, she’d say he looked disappointed. It woke up the butterflies in her stomach and compelled her to add, “I’ve never had anyone try to prove otherwise.”

She didn’t give him a chance to reply to that, scared of what exactly his answer would be, clearing her throat exaggeratedly instead. “Should I go? I can stay at the Warehouse tonight if you lot need to be alone.”

AJ and Nate paused, their lips a hairsbreadth apart as they’d both been leaning toward each other. Kira didn’t need vampire hypersenses to feel the frustration coming from both of them, though neither of them said anything about it; she tried not to feel guilty about interrupting them as they moved apart.

A few minutes later, the four of them stepped out into the cold February evening and began the walk toward the Square.

Nate and Abigail took the lead. They only made it a few steps before he reached for her hand, lacing their fingers together. They shared a brief, besotted smile before turning their attention back to the sidewalk, walking close enough that their shoulders bumped together.

Kira found herself staring at their linked hands as she walked behind them, something stirring in her chest that she might almost call jealousy, except she knew she wasn’t at all attracted to either of them. Unconsciously, her eyes drifted over to Adam walking next to her, only to find him already staring back. For a beat, their gazes held.

Then they both looked quickly away, suddenly fascinated by the sidewalk and the light traffic on the road. Adam shoved his hands in his coat pockets, and after a moment’s hesitation Kira did the same.

The next few minutes were spent in tense silence, the only sound between them the snatches of conversation drifting back from the couple in front of them.

“Where are they taking us?” Adam asked suddenly.

“They didn’t tell you?” He shook his head and she smiled a little. “I only found out just before you arrived. They must’ve assumed we’d refuse as soon as we heard. It’s a little fair that they hold in the Square every year. I mostly just go for the food.”

“You’ve been before?”

“Sure.”

“With a date?” The question forced itself out through clenched teeth.

“Yes. I have a standing date with this cute redhead I know. About yea high,” she held a hand a few inches above her head, “lets me call her Red.” She watched in awe and amusement as the tension left Adam’s shoulders when he realised that his only ‘competition’ was the woman dating his best friend. Kira glanced fondly at the cute redhead in question, who looked back at her as if aware that she was being talked about. She winked at her, and Abigail grinned back. “I kinda thought I’d be spending the day alone this year,” she added quietly to Adam.

“You sound like you would have preferred that.”

“No.” It sounded like a lie, so she corrected herself. “Not exactly. I don’t mind the company. I just don’t like the crowds.”

They turned a corner and were hit by a wave of lights and noise as they entered the Square. Kira flinched under the onslaught more than either of the vampires did, but steadied herself quickly before anyone could fret over her.

The whole area was festooned with lights. Strings of white and pink and red fairy lights wound between poles and covered stalls. Everything was wrapped in ribbons and draped with flowers, and the notes of a familiar Elvis love song drifted to them from a small stage off to one side.

The night passed in a blur. Looking back at it, Kira wouldn’t be able to recall doing much more than just walking through the crowds, eyeing a couple interesting pieces of artwork and very fancy little cakes. She remembered the mulled cider Nate got her and the colorful bouquet he got AJ. She remembered being dragged into the photobooth with AJ, and standing on the sidelines of the dance floor watching her dance with Nate.

She remembered the way Adam stood next to her, a question on his lips that he still couldn’t quite voice. She remembered the single red rose that somehow found its way into her hand.

She remembered that she started the day feeling like she was being dragged along on her best friend’s date, and finished it wishing the date didn’t have to end.

When they arrived back at their apartment building, Kira and Adam acquiesced to their friends’ unspoken request and stayed downstairs to give them time to say good night properly. As soon as they were alone, the familiar silence fell between them, tense and comfortable in equal measure.

Surprisingly, it was Adam that broke it first. “Did you have a nice night, Detective?”

“You know what, I did. And one hundred percent less mirror mazes than our last date, that was nice.” She grinned when he chuckled at that. “I’m dying to see where people trick you into taking me next time.”

He didn't seem at all bothered by the prospect of 'next time.' His smile lingered, wide enough to show the slightest hint of dimples on his cheeks. "If I recall, the last one was with Nate and Detective Jenings as well."

Kira leaned against the wall of the apartment building and said, as casually as possible, "True. Maybe we should plan the next one ourselves, then. Invite them along for a change.”

“Are you asking me on a date?” He didn’t seem bothered by that either, though his smile was stifled by the weight of the look he gave her, serious and intense and full of an emotion she couldn’t name.

She tried not to wilt under that look and instead met it with an answering one. “If I was, would you say yes?”

He moved a step closer, struggling between what he wanted to say and what he felt he should. She waited him out, like she always did. Eventually, all he said was “Kira…”

The sound of footsteps on the stairs meant she’d never get to know how the rest of that sentence went. She tried to swallow her disappointment when Adam stepped away again, and turned to smile at Nate as he joined them.

He smiled back, an absolutely giddy expression on his face. Kira knew she’d see an identical one on AJ’s face when she went upstairs. He put a warm hand on her shoulder, giving it a squeeze as he walked past and wished her good night.

She expected Adam to follow him, but he still lingered a moment more, brow knotted with a frown. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” he said, a bit too quickly. “I simply… wanted to thank you. For accompanying me.”

“Anytime.” The admission made her blush, but she didn’t take it back. “I-I should probably…” she gestured vaguely up the stairs.

“Of course.”

He reached out and took one of her hands in a gentle grip, moving slowly as if to give her a chance to pull away. As if she had any intention of doing so. As if she wasn’t holding her breath for fear that any gasp or sigh might scare him away. He bowed, the movement so formal that she could clearly see evidence of the knight he once was, and lightly brushed his lips over the back of her hand.

Whatever he saw on her face as he moved away again drew a smirk from him. “Good night, Kira.”

She released the breath she’d been holding in a serrated sigh. “Good night, Adam.” Her voice came out oddly high-pitched, but it made him chuckle again.

Then he was gone.

It took a couple minutes before Kira could remind herself to move and drag herself upstairs. AJ was waiting for her in the living room, grinning ear to ear and still clearly on cloud nine about her night with Nate.

Kira was starting to think she understood the feeling, just a little.

That surprised a giggle out of her, the sound so hopelessly smitten that there would be no way she could keep what just happened a secret. Abigail’s knowing look only confirmed it, her smile somehow even wider and Kira’s growing to match it.

On a whim, she grabbed the redhead’s face and kissed her firmly on the cheek. “You are the best friend and wingwoman a girl could have.”

“You’re welcome, Kir,” AJ chuckled. “Am I forgiven for draggin’ y’ out on Valentine’s Day?”

“You can drag me along wherever you want to. No more complaints from me.”

“I’m gonna remember y’ said that.” She dropped down onto the sofa, leaving enough room for Kira to join her. “Now tell me everythin’.”

[eleven-times-lively]

Eternal Love - 1

Summary: Love by fate, connection at heart, soul despite sight. Cedric x blind!OC  Word Count: 1879 Note: Omg it feels amazing to be writing again! This is a fantastic miniseries so buckle up and follow along! Also I’m not doing taglists anymore. 💕

Soft, gentle humming filled the otherwise gloomy air. “This way,” she whispered to the space around her, continuing onward. To anyone else the sight would have been a deterrent, but for her it was no issue. 

The sky was black and thunder cracked just above the clouds. A storm was circling overhead, both of clouds and blood. She navigated the hills and crevices of the decrepit graveyard with ease, pushed by an invisible force

“Cedric, no!” 

Her head whipped around trying to find the source of the noise.

The whisper in her ear told her to crouch down, stay hidden for now. She did exactly that, not quite knowing what she was hiding from or why. A flurry of commotion ensued. Spells were thrown about, blasts and powerful forces firing off from every direction. After a surprisingly short time, she felt compelled to stand again, thanking the spirits for making her hide in the first place.

She stepped around the grave behind which she had been hiding, and remained silent to examine the scene. She heard a light choking from somewhere nearby, almost as if drowned out by gasps for life. Her invisible guide brought her to the source, which was immediately silenced by her presence.

“Please,” the voice pleaded. She stepped back for a moment, not expecting the voice to sound so deep and rugged, yet… knowing. 

“Is it safe?” She murmured, though more to herself than anything. She pondered before nodding, once again taking a step forward. “Do you need help?” Her melodic voice her on injured ears, dropping the jaw of the injured boy before her.

“Please,” he once again choked out. She reached out an arm, allowing him to grab on and help himself to his feet. “Please… I-”

“I know,” she interrupted, placing a gentle hand on his arm. She shut her eyes, muttering to herself before a globe of light encircled them, transporting them away from the desolate sight.

***

The warm cottage was a welcome change from the battlesight. With a flick of her wrist, a fire was lit and the hearth was aglow. She helped the boy over to her single chair in the corner, examining him with a cautious eye. 

“You have seen much trouble,” she murmured. “Be still.” Before the boy had time to protest, small flecks of light infiltrated the space around him, shrouding him in brightness. 

A small, shrill sound erupted from the boy's mouth before all went quiet. The light died down, and left was a boy no longer covered in blood, but in fear. “What are you?” He whispered, trying but ultimately unable to back away from the girl before him.

“Do not fear, friend. I am here to help.” She took his hand, an empty stare cast deep into his widened eyes. “What is your name?”

“Cedric.” The sound came out as barely more than a whisper.

“Cedric,” she repeated, feeling the words in her mouth. “I’m Li.”

“Who are you?” His pupils were still blown wide, knuckles turning white as he gripped onto the chair.

“A friend,” she told him again. She took a step forward, tripping over his outstretched leg. She would have caught herself, but not before Cedric’s large arms did it for her.

“Woah there,” he chuckled, studying her face. “Are you okay?”

“Heavens,” she muttered. “Thanks for that.” Speaking to an invisible force, she nodded curtly at Cedric and walked away. 

Li returned with the tea, walking slowly as she was wary of any more stray limbs. “Oolong tea, it will calm you.”

“Thanks…” Cedric was hesitant to take the cup, but did nevertheless. “Now can you explain all of this?” He gestured around vaguely.

“Very well.” She sat in the chair opposite him. “My name is Li, and I am one with the spirits of the forest.” She stopped speaking, seemingly at the end of her rather short oration.

“That’s it?” He nearly chuckled. “You can’t be more than my age, why don’t I know you?”

“Hogwarts did not want my type of magic, and without parents I could not travel to another school. No one else was willing to help me.”

“Help you?”

“Well I am blind.”

Cedric said nothing, his mouth forming a small O. “And you keep talking to nothing?”

Her mouth upturned slightly. “Not nothing, the spirits. I can connect with the spirits held deep within the forest. They are my friends. My guides. That’s how I found you.” 

His eyes went wide. “I’m sorry.”

“For?”

“I’m not entirely sure. Hogwarts didn’t want you? You don’t have parents?”

“I suppose I’m doing well for myself.” She smiled weakly, pausing for a moment. “When will you go back?”

“To Hogwarts?”

She nodded. “Well Harry thinks I’m dead doesn’t he?”

She nodded again.

“I think I need to heal first, after that I’m not sure. May I stay here?”

“Absolutely. Come, let me show you the spare room.”

*** 

Cedric rose the next morning to the smell of breakfast and fresh tea. He crept down the stairs, but was sure to make enough noise as to not startle Li.

“Hello, Cedric.”

It was, in fact, Cedric who was startled. “You knew I was down here.”

“Again, dear, the spirits tell me everything. That and you aren’t exactly light on your feet.” Cedric blushed a bit before ducking down by the kitchen table. “Did you sleep well?”

“Fantastic, actually,” he smirked a bit, “was something in the tea?”

“Just a bit of lavender and a healing blend. Nothing bad.” He nodded, impressed and amused. “Breakfast.” She set the plate down in front of him.

“Thank you so much.” He immediately began taking forkfuls of food. “Are you going to eat.”

“Cedric I rise with the sun. I ate breakfast hours ago.” She smiled softly, taking the remaining seat at the table.

“Oh.” He blushed once again. “So these spirits,” he began after a moment, “can you… see them.”

“Well,” she stifled a giggle, “not in the traditional sense, no. I can’t see them as one would expect, but I have sense of them. I have a much deeper connection that transcends sight or even communication. It is as if we are one.”

“Huh,” Cedric chewed as he tried to process. This was unlike anything he had ever experienced, and he wasn’t yet convinced that this wasn’t some fever dream while he was in a coma at St. Mungos.

“How are you feeling today?” Li interrupted his thoughts.

“Fine I guess.” He pondered for a moment. “I mean, you did heal everything. I think I’m still having a bit of trouble processing what happened.”

“Me too,” she confessed. “I arrived at the end of the ordeal, and naturally I couldn’t see anything.

Cedric nodded, contemplating. “How much do you know about the wizarding world right now, Li?”

“More than you would think.”

“Then I have some things to share with you.”

“Very well,” she stood from the table. “Finish getting yourself ready. I will show you my forest.”

***

Cedric found Li outside in her front garden later that morning. 

“There you are!” She exclaimed. It was the most emotion Cedric had heard from her. “Come on. I can’t wait to show you my home.”

They walked a while in silence, weaving through pathways and bushes. At one point, Li tripped over a root. Cedric happened to swoop an arm around her just in time.

“That, um, wasn’t there yesterday.”

“It’s alright,” Cedric chuckled, still holding on. He realized his error and quickly let go, stiffly clearing his throat. 

Li froze for a moment, a soft blush spreading across her lightly freckled cheeks. She brushed her stray black hair out of her face and continued walking. “So what was it that you needed to tell me?” She broke the awkward silence and palpable tension. 

“Right.” He stiffened, suddenly remembering he had a purpose. “What do you know of the dark lord.”

She froze immediately, sharply turning on his heel. “Say no more Cedric,” her voice rose slightly. “His presence shall not be invoked. I know enough and that is perfectly fine with me.”

He took a deep breath in, unsure of how to proceed. “He’s back.”

A single tear fell from Li’s eye as her face twisted into a sour grimace. “I knew this day would come,” she whispered. 

“My apologies, but… what?”

“Back to the cottage,” she hastily looked around, “now.”

“Care to explain?” Cedric was bewildered as Li locked the door and forced him into a chair.

“Cedric, the dark lord is responsible for the death or my parents and sister.”

Cedric's eyes widened, mouth forming a small circle. “I’m so sorry, Li… I-”

“It’s fine, Save your apologies. That was nearly sixteen years ago. I know enough that I know that with the dark lord back we are all in danger.”

Cedric’s lips pressed into a thin line. He knew. “What do we do?”

“Hide.”

***

The pair hid for about three weeks. Seemingly waiting for the day when Voldemort himself would show up at the cottage door to kill them both. They grew closer in this time. Li began to trust the strange outside energy that came into his life, and Cedric finally felt true warmth from the spunk and prim girl that had saved his life. Deeper feelings lie within them both, and they were beginning to bloom.

They were seated closely on the couch one afternoon when Cedric decided to bring up the topic that neither of them had brought up in nearly ten days. “Have you heard anything?”

“No.” Li responded coldly, gaze still fixed on the wooden wall. “Well…”

Cedric stiffened. “Well what, Li?”

“He’s coming for Hogwarts.”

Cedric shot up. “And you didn’t think to tell me!? I need to go help!”

Li turned to face him, a tear falling from her eye. “I know,” she whispered, almost inaudibly, “but I didn’t want you to leave.”

His face immediately softened. “Li…” He struggled a moment with what to say. “You know I have to go.” He was in so much pain having to say it. He had never seen Li cry, and he hated every second of it. “It’s okay…” He got back onto the couch, holding her shaking body in his arms. 

They stayed like that for a while, Li trying to choke back her tears and Cedric nearly crying along with her. Truth be told, Cedric didn’t want to leave either. “Come with me,” he whispered, partially hoping that maybe she wouldn’t hear him.

“What?” She choked out between sobs. 

“Come with me. Back to Hogwarts.”

“Cedric you know I can’t do that.”

“And why not?”

“I-” She hesitated.

“Exactly. You may not have traditional magic, but you’re so powerful. You could help so much… and I’d love to have you at my side.”

“I’m blind Cedric. How much of an asset could I really be?”

“A lot. Need I remind you of your spirits.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line, knowing he was correct. “This is a massive risk.”

“I know. And I wouldn’t have even said it if I didn’t trust you with my entire heart. He placed a small kiss on her forehead. “Take some time. We can go in the morning if you’re ready.”

“Thank you.”

***

Part 2

[fieryfantasybooklover]

Forged In Flame And Stars - An analogical fic

---------------------------------------------------

Logan already felt himself relaxing as he slipped quietly through the front doors of the massive stone library. This building was a permanent fixture in his memory and had been since he learned to read. Logan couldn’t care less about the interests of the other teenagers, he would gladly spend his days buried in books. As Logan hefted his backpack over his shoulder, he set course for his favorite room in the library - “The Room Of Myth”. It was the hidden gem of the book heaven, a place of ancient tomes of mystery and legend. And best of all, hardly anybody knew where to find it.

Logan arrived at the room, already euphoric from expectation. “Maybe I will read about the myths of ancient African cultures. Or what about the lore of Native Americans? There are far too many books here and I am perfectly alright with it.” Logan silently opened the door, and was shocked at the sight that greeted him. A boy, dark haired and mysterious looking, had parked himself in the armchair by the fire. The fireplace was crackling away merrily, and Logan felt an unexpected smile flit across his face and a warmth fill his being. A fellow book lover, a boy his age surrounded by stacks of books as tall as him. And this mystery reader was so engrossed in his story he was completely oblivious to Logan’s presence.

Logan was almost afraid to speak, reluctant to break a moment that felt as fragile as spun crystal and just as priceless. Finally, working up the nerve to push past the flames roaring in his soul and the stars exploding in his brain, Logan spoke up, hoping for a positive outcome. “Ummm… Hello?” Logan whispered. The other boy went rigid, sitting up straight and giving Logan an annoyed gaze that didn’t earn the wanted response - Logan was much to focused on not losing himself in the boy’s eyes. They were hazel, but with nearly undetectable golden flecks. Logan, unused to feelings similar to this, couldn’t muster a reply. “Yeah? What do you want? I hope you’re not going to try to kick me out. It’s a public library.” the other boy snarked. “N-n-o. that’s not what I was going to say. I just wanted to ask you what you were reading.”

“Oh. Ok then. I guess I have time to talk a little.”

The pair sat by the fire for several more dreamlike hours. The fire warmed them against the fall chill, and there were plenty of books to discuss. It was a novel experience for both of them - neither had a friend in school who was even remotely interested in this type of literature. However, they also learned about themselves. The other boy introduced himself to Logan as “Virgil… but you can call me Virge.” Logan introduced himself and with that they were off. Neither had an explanation for the force compelling them to talk and talk and never stop. The force compelling them to share the random little things about themselves that never seemed important before this. However, neither really cared. Something new was blossoming, something that seemed to overshadow all other thoughts.

When the day finally ended, they parted ways, but not before exchanging numbers. With that, Logan hopped on his bike, doing his best to balance the truckload of books he just HAD to read. Looking back to see where Virgil was headed, Logan found out that the other boy had vanished. Vanished into the wind without leaving a trace behind. Had vanished like one of the wraiths of ancient legends. Shaking his head in wonder, Logan pedaled home, ever-pursued by thoughts of the boy in the library.

Weeks flew by and little changed in Logan’s life. Logan and Virgil fell into a groove of meeting at the library and talking the day away, often bringing books to share and recommend. Logan kept his grades up and conveniently forgot to mention where he spent his Saturday’s to his parents. He did mention that he had a new friend he met through a book club, of which Logan was a member of many. There would also be the nights that Logan stayed up all night messaging Virgil, falling asleep to the stars sparkling over his head and an increasingly common feeling of warmth and comfort. It wasn’t until Virgil messaged him asking if Logan wanted to come over that Logan realized how little he knew of Virgil’s life.

Logan fought down the nervousness as he walked up the gravel path to Virgil’s front door. “It’s ok Logan. It’s ok. This isn’t a big deal, you're just hanging out.” knocking on the door, Logan fought the urge to hop from foot to foot. The door was opened by Virgil, who was looking unfairly good in a sweatshirt and jeans. Virgil ushered Logan through the house quickly, allowing Logan to only catch a few glimpses - a worn-looking couch sitting in front of a TV, a lamp casting a warm glow from underneath a closed door, a cute little kitchen with a window looking out to the woods. Virgil shut the door to his bedroom, turned to Logan, and began to talk. A lot and very quickly.

“Ok, so here’s the deal. My parents are extremely good at putting on a good show, but that’s all it is. A show. My dad’s addicted to alcohol and my Mom is stressed constantly because she’s the one keeping our family together. That’s why I use the library - I can’t afford bookstores. That’s why I’m a loner at school - I can’t trust anybody to let them close enough to find out. I get it if you don’t want to talk anymore it’s fine, I’m sure your parents won’t want you around me-” Logan cut him off, feeling strangely outspoken and passionate around this hurricane in human form.

“Virgil! Virge. Listen to me please. I don’t care if my parents don’t want me around you. I don’t care and I never will. That’s because… you...you…” Logan struggled to find words to do justice to what he wanted to express. Finding none, he went with what felt the best. “Because I have come to truly care for you and I don’t care what the world thinks. I believe you are a good person and one that deserves everything good this world has to offer- Oh god what am I saying? I’m so sorry Virgil. I have to go… I’ll message you sometime soon.” With that, Logan grabbed his bag and bolted out the door, without looking back, afraid of what he would see.

A few days past of Logan not hearing a peep from Virgil, and with each day that past Logan sunk deeper into self guilt. “Why did I have to leave? Oh god that was so stupid I am an idiot. I can’t message him. I have no idea what to say! Should I try and meet up with him again or…” All of these thoughts and more made their home in Logan’s head as time ticked bye unbearably slowly and then too fast for comfort.

Logan was however, not expecting for his phone to buzz at midnight with a desperate text from Virgil - “Lo. Please. I know I fucked up. But can you please come to the library.” Logan didn’t hesitate a minute, and pushed all doubts down and away. He cobbled together an outfit and biked to the library like the world was about to be swept away and he was running from the wave. Logan dropped his bike, uncaring, as he sped up the steps, into the library, and then through its halls to the Room of Myth. He spotted Virgil, shaking and trembling by the fire. Logan rushed to him and enveloped the other boy in his arms. “Oh my god Virgil what happened?” Logan asked while making soothing circles on the other boy’s back. Virgil, trembling violently, managed to give a shaky explanation.

“My mom and dad are fighting. I tried to stop them but my dad… he’s d-drunk. My mom told me to get out of the house so I came here. I’m so sorry for bothering you oh my god…” Virgil rambled on and on, but Logan was smart enough and knew Virgil well enough at this point to recognize the talking for what it really was - a defense mechanism and a way of expressing self-guilt. “Well now, I simply won’t allow that.” Logan thought. “I’ll be damned if I don’t at least try to do something.” Wrapping his arms even more tightly around Virgil, Logan began talking, not stopping to acknowledge his fear.

“Virgil. You are the most wonderful and breathtaking person I have ever met. You are not the cause of this and you never have been. I can tell you for a fact my life would be dark and empty if you weren’t in it. You’re amazing you’re smart you’re kind you shatter me to pieces in the best way. You make me weak and vulnerable and I don’t regret it a bit. From the moment I saw you I was head over heels for you but afraid to admit it. You haunted my thoughts like a ghost, never leaving, never sleeping. I stormed out of your bedroom because I was scared. Because I’ve never felt anything like this and I don’t want to screw it up. You are forged in flame and stars and this world does not deserve you.”

Virgil raised his eyes, beautiful and shining with emotion, to Logan’s. “Logan… You’re the one person in my life who makes me feel safe, makes me feel happy. You’re the one who snatched my heart and decided to keep it and never give it back. You’re the one who makes me feel like me. You’re the one that makes me feel love.” And with that, their lips met in a kiss seemingly too tender to exist. It spoke of late nights gazing up into the sky, dreaming. It spoke of laughter and smiles and gentle touches. It spoke of cool summer nights and pristine winter days. It spoke of love and affection and an infinity of both. It spoke of everything good and then some more.

The next day, Logan sleepily opened his eyes to golden sunlight and to find out that he had fallen asleep in Virgil’s arms. He had willingly spent a good portion of the night with Virgil, showering him in affection and positivity and encouragement. A fond smile spread across Logan’s face as he saw Virgil was still sleeping soundly. His hair was messed and he was snoring softly. Logan grinned as he expertly extracted himself from Virgil’s grip. Scribbling a quick note and leaving it on the library’s table, Logan strode out the door. Mounting his bike, Logan grinned and allowed his mind to linger on the boy who stole his heart as he biked home into the golden unknown.

[the-real-tc]

Fic UPDATE! Wide River to Cross: Chapter 23

A.N.: This chapter took way longer to churn out than I expected, and there will be another update very shortly. We're moved into Episode 713 territory now, so you know that means things are getting even closer to where they are supposed to be. Enjoy!

Chapter 23: Chance Encounter

The drive back from Moose Jaw on Tuesday was its usual eight-hour, mind-numbing slog for Tim Fleming. Shane and Miranda seemed to be doing fine without him, though something in his gut warned Tim there was something going on neither of them wished to speak of in his presence. The visit started off on a positive note. Shane excitedly asked about Pal before politely moving on to inquiring about his half-sisters. By the actual Thanksgiving Monday, Tim knew he was wearing out his welcome, as if Miranda could not wait to be rid of him. Yes, it was true they had called it quits, but there was a distant air about her that Tim could not put his finger on. When he mentioned he would like to come out in a month for the Remembrance Day holiday, he was met with a non-committal sort of answer, but not an outright "no". Shane's sullen resentment over the absence of a father-figure in his life was still brewing beneath the surface. Tim recognized the signs; he just had no idea what to do about it, especially since Miranda was apparently hedging about the next time he could visit his son. How was he supposed to be a father to Shane if he was not even permitted to see him on a regular basis?

By the time Tim reached Hudson, he was exhausted both physically and emotionally. He had half a mind to drop in at Heartland and stick around long enough to invite himself to dinner, but he was not in the mood to hear Jack complain about the sheep again, which he was sure to do. Instead, Tim pulled into the local McDonald's Drive-thru and ordered something he knew he would barely taste, but would otherwise tide him over until the next day. On Wednesday morning, Tim regretfully realised he was completely out of supplies and would need to head into town for groceries.

He was still contemplating what to do about convincing Miranda to allow him to visit again in a month's time while grabbing some steaks from a refrigerated shelf in the Deli section. Maybe the boy could come out to Heartland instead, Tim pondered. After all, Shane was still obviously interested in riding Pal. Amy and Lou would be happy to see their half-brother, of course. Tim also had a feeling Shane and Georgie would get along just fine, if given the chance.

What would he think about Tricia? Tim suddenly wondered as he mechanically loaded his groceries into his truck before starting the drive back to Big River.

What would Tricia think about Shane?

When is the right time to tell her about my "illegitimate" son?

Are we serious enough for that yet?

Those thoughts quickly fled as Tim did a double-take at the unexpected sight of an oddly familiar auburn-haired woman. She stood at the bank of green community mailboxes on the side of the rural road, unaware of his scrutiny. The presence of her nearby silver-grey Porsche SUV confirmed it: the usually blonde Lisa Stillman had returned to Hudson. Tim pulled his truck to a stop—he simply had to get the low-down on this. Lisa was the last person he expected to see here, especially after Lou bought back her share of the Dude Ranch so many months ago. Jack's continued silence on Lisa's whereabouts and the status of their relationship compelled Tim to approach. After all, Lisa was godmother to his granddaughter Katie. It would be impolite to drive past her without a word, he reasoned.

"Hey, Lisa!" he called when he was within earshot.

Her shoulders jerked slightly, causing Tim to feel slightly guilty for startling her when he caught the stunned expression on her face. She recovered in time to respond, though somewhat hesitantly. "Oh. Hi, Tim!" she called back with forced brightness. Her smile, too, was forced.

"Wow, I didn't expect to see you back in town," Tim said as he neared. "How ya been? How was France?"

"Busy. I've been really busy," she replied hastily, closing her mailbox door and snapping the lock shut before stuffing her envelopes into a side pocket. "Um, France was fine. Sorry I can't stay and chat. I just got back from dropping off my sister at the airport, and I've still got lots to do today. As a matter of fact, I have an appointment with someone in less than half an hour."

"Your sister was visiting?" Tim echoed. "Huh. That's nice. Don't think I've ever met her. The appointment wouldn't happen to be with Jack would it?"

Lisa's spirits sank at the mention of the man she loved but was avoiding. She wondered if Tim did it on purpose—honing right in on a person's vulnerable spot and then exposing it.

"Uh, no. No, I'm not meeting Jack," Lisa's voice faltered.

"Then who are you meeting?" Tim pressed.

Lisa felt cornered now. Knowing the news would eventually get out, anyway, she decided to be straight with the man. "A real estate agent," she answered testily. "I've put Fairfield on the market."

Tim's face betrayed mild surprise. Wow, he thought. She really is making that move to France permanent. "You're selling Fairfield. Whoa. Does Jack know about this?"

Lisa exhaled. "Jack knows I love France," she eventually responded as she averted her glance. "I tried to share that part of my life with him, but it didn't work. He hates France, and there's no changing that fact. It's best I make a clean break. For now, he doesn't even know I'm in Hudson, and I'd like to keep it that way, please. So don't tell him you saw me, okay?"

Despite not quite receiving a straight answer to his question, Tim nevertheless made a zipping motion across his lips. "O-kay."

"You promise you will not tell him I'm here?" Lisa said, eyeing him now with skepticism.

"I promise I will not tell Jack you're here, Lisa," Tim proclaimed, raising his hand in a Scout salute.

"Good. Thank you," she said, making her move back to the Porsche. "Now, I really have to go. Take care, Tim. 'Bye."

"Yeah, 'bye," Tim said, absently securing his hat on his head.

Without bothering to look back at him, Lisa raised a hand in a farewell gesture as she climbed into the driver's seat.

Tim called out: "But you are gonna tell him eventually, right?"

The motor roaring to life drowned out the question, causing Tim to frown. Aw, man. Something's gotta be done about those two before it's too late, he thought. I just need to figure out what.

**

Lisa pulled away from the mailboxes in a daze. Now that Tim had seen her, it was only a matter of time before Jack found out she was in Hudson. Of all the people I had to run into, why did it have to be Tim Fleming?! she fretted. And once Jack does find out, what will I do? Guess I'll have to cross that bridge when I get to it.

The real estate agent warned Lisa from the outset her asking-price was high, given the current slump in the market. While she knew this, it was a tactic she hoped to use to her advantage. It was intended to weed out a bulk of potential buyers who would only waste her time. Genuinely interested buyers would be savvy enough to try to negotiate a lower selling price they would both be comfortable with. Lisa was ready to play that game. Besides, if someone did agree to the initial price, the agent stood to make a fantastic commission.

There would be no way to hide the signs or the real estate listing, of course, so even if she never laid eyes on Jack, he would eventually find out about the sale. She was plagued with feelings of guilt. Was it really fair to avoid him? How difficult would it be to make a quick call to say: "Hi, I've returned to Hudson to sell the old place. Thanks for the good times we had; I'm moving to France for good."

Very difficult indeed.

Those thoughts were quickly dismissed when Lisa reached Fairfield and business concerns once again consumed her mental energies. Among those concerns was the sale of Cinders, a horse for which Lisa felt an uncommon fondness due to his resemblance to her long-ago cherished Silver. Riding Cinders out to Lookout Point every morning was part of her daily routine when in Hudson, so she was reluctant to part with the animal. I have Indigo back in Toulon for my morning ride, Lisa thought practically, knowing one fewer horse to transport to France could be good for cost-saving in the long run.

A buyer from Montana was interested; Lisa was awaiting the finalization of that sale before booking transport. Three other horses would be going to buyers in Alberta; two to British Columbia, and one to Saskatchewan. That left several other horses that might eventually need to be auctioned, including the pregnant Rhapsody. The broodmare's pregnancy and the subsequent weaning process once the foal arrived meant travel any time soon would be ill-advised, so having her remain in Canada to be sold made sense.

The clone of Fairfield Flyer—when it arrived—was still a question mark. Dan seemed overly confident it would help them make their mark once they launched their breeding business overseas. Lisa was more cautious and hesitant about the whole idea; in time, maybe she would feel differently about the situation, as her sister Rachel had predicted.

And I'm still quite angry Dan did it, Lisa realised, almost feeling her blood pressure rising just thinking about the whole mess. Why am I even still in business with him? The answer she always arrived at whenever she pondered that question was that they still made good business partners, despite their failed marriage. This time, though, Lisa wondered whether business success in partnership with Dan was a good enough reason.

I have spent more than half my life doing this, Lisa said to herself. I've achieved a lot in that time. I would like to think I have made my father proud of the 'Fairfield' name. That alone should be worth it, right? And it's like I told Rachel: the money I've earned has made it possible to realise a lot of dreams, do things I wanted to do, and see the world. But at the end of the day, I go home to an empty house. What dreams am I chasing now? I always dreamed of retiring to France. And then Jack came into my life.

Lisa reflected fondly on that day at Heartland when she encountered Jack at the Open House barbecue. Amy had just awed the crowd by showing off her work with Promise, and with the way she had risen to Val Stanton's seemingly impossible, impromptu challenge to fix the hundred-thousand-dollar horse that refused to jump.

"You're doing a really good job with her, Jack," Lisa recalled telling him. What she didn't tell him was that she had inquired discreetly about his fifteen-year-old granddaughter after being impressed by her during their first meeting at Fairfield. Since Nick Harwell had sung Amy's praises regarding her work with Star, Lisa called him up. She hoped to find out a little more about this Amy Fleming, daughter of the late Marion Fleming. She had a vague recollection hearing about Marion and Heartland since returning to Hudson from the 'States. Even so, she had at least known of the existence of 'Heartland Ranch' in the same sort of familiar way Hudsonites would know of the existence of any other ranch in the area.

"I read in the Hudson Times about Marion Fleming's passing and how Amy's grandfather is a rodeo legend," Lisa had told Nick during their conversation. "What else should I know about this family?"

"Yes, Jack Bartlett is pretty well-known for his rodeo days. And Marion... Marion was something else," Nick had stated. "And I really think Amy has the gift, too. What did you think of her?"

"It's too early to tell," Lisa had replied honestly, "but I like her spunk. I had my reservations about Promise going under the care of a fifteen-year-old, but she won some points with me. She set me straight when she told me her mother didn't 'whisper' to horses; she listened to them."

Nick had chuckled. "Whatever you want to call it, Marion sure worked magic with horses, and Amy can, too. You just have to sit back and let the magic happen."

"How is Heartland Ranch doing?" Lisa then inquired. "Are they going to be okay without Marion working with troubled horses? That was their main source of income, wasn't it?"

"I'm not sure," Nick replied with a sigh. "Jack does have a herd of cattle, but it's small. His adult granddaughter Lou is back in town from New York to help, but who knows how long she plans to stay... And Jack's wife, Lyndy, died a few years ago. I heard through the grapevine Amy and Lou's dad is a rodeo legend too, but he's also a total deadbeat. So now Jack has got to raise Amy by himself. It's not going to be easy for them. I do believe Amy has her mother's gift, but she's still so young to be taking on the 'family business', if you know what I mean. Jack has his work cut out for him."

"Yes, I guess he does," Lisa had remarked thoughtfully, imagining an elderly man all of a sudden saddled with a responsibility he did not anticipate in the wake of his daughter's tragic death.

To see Jack Bartlett in the flesh was a revelation. The man was nowhere near the 'elderly' grandfather Lisa had envisioned after speaking with Nick. He was tall, fit, and grizzled with irregular features, yet handsome in an unconventional way she found attractive. She would almost have guessed he was Amy's father had she not known any better. So this was the man who was taking care of his teenaged granddaughter. This was the man who had clearly taken the responsibility very seriously, and was succeeding at the task despite the burden of loss and heartbreak. This man, a salt-of-the-earth type, exuding quiet confidence and strength—this man she simply had to get to know better.

He was the first man in a very long time Lisa felt the urge to flirt with; the first man she felt comfortable sending out signals she wanted to know him on a deeper level. Their first real conversation was brief. She paid him a compliment about the burgers he was grilling up, then added she thought he was doing a great job with Amy. She mentioned her own situation with taking on her nephew following his parents' divorce. As they parted company that evening, she brushed her shoulder against his after his offer to help with Ben, hoping the message was received.

Bringing up those old memories of the weeks and months that followed the Open House was bittersweet. Back then, it was Immediately clear to Lisa that Jack was nothing remotely resembling a social butterfly. He was never at any of the parties she attended, nor was he known to folks in her Hudson social circles. She would have to ferret out what his interests were and meet him at that level if she wanted to get closer to him. Lisa would be forever grateful to Maggie for suggesting Amy have a look at the traumatized Gallant Prince, as it provided more opportunities to visit Heartland—and to see Jack.

And then I asked him to accompany me to that auction... and his truck broke down.

It was a deviation in her plan she had not expected, but rolled with it by suggesting they eat right then instead of after the sale. They discussed nothing of consequence during that interlude while they ate turkey-and-swiss sandwiches, but Lisa enjoyed every minute of it.

"Aren't you something?" Jack had asked, clearly not expecting anything like this when she told him she made coffee for him; that she had planned a picnic treat from the very beginning.

The early fall weather was pleasant, a soft breeze fluttering through the leaves of the trees that surrounded them. She seldom had a chance to pause like this, sitting in the company of just one other person, undisturbed by the rest of the world. He complimented her on the coffee, subtly making her realise he had strong opinions about the beverage. Time slipped away much too quickly. After a particularly long stretch of silence between them after the last of the coffee had been drunk, Jack finally spoke up: "Well, I guess I should probably see if that old truck of mine is ready to start. Can't have you missing that auction, can we?"

Reluctantly, they tidied up and trekked back to the stalled vehicle. It started without complaint, bearing them safely to High River for the auction. Lisa mentally skipped over the part when they encountered Dan, knowing what she knew now about how he had the temerity to tell Jack she was still his wife. Lisa remembered her acute disappointment upon discovering Jack had abandoned her there without a word. Something about that scenario did not sit right with her, as she was quite certain he had enjoyed their picnic.

Perhaps another woman might have dismissed him for that perceived slight, Lisa reasoned, but I knew I couldn't let him go that easily. Fortunately, a good friend she ran into at the close of the auction was willing to give her a lift to Heartland so she could retrieve her Porsche. At the time, she was tempted to knock on Jack's door to demand an explanation, but something told her that would be the wrong move. Let this thing play out, she remembered thinking. Let him come to you when he's ready.

And the explanation did come out, confirming for Lisa she made the right choice by not blowing the situation out of proportion, though she had every right to be upset. Handling it with a dose of humour had de-escalated what could have been a very uncomfortable situation. After all, Dan had just sourly peeled out of Heartland, having been told off by Jack, and after being rebuffed by Lisa.

"Well, since men keep driving away on me, would you mind driving me home in your truck, please?" she remembered asking with a smile and a good-natured chuckle. Of course Jack had not minded one bit. She had noticed the look of gradual, earnest relief on his face once he realised she was not married to Dan any longer; that she had not been playing with his emotions or leading him on.

"Jack, I'm sorry for the misunderstanding with my EX-husband," she said contritely during that ride back to Fairfield. "He had no right to do that, and I want to make it very clear I—"

And he had broken in gently then, telling her she had no need to apologize; that he was the one that needed to do the apologizing for abandoning her at the auction.

"Hmm," she had said playfully. "I suppose you have a plan in mind about how you're going to make it up to me?"

"Well, as a matter of fact... I was wondering..."

After a few seconds of tense silence, he had asked if he could have the pleasure of her company at his private cabin in a few weeks' time. She could tell it took some effort on his part to ask the question, but she readily accepted his invitation to try a little fly fishing, despite the lateness of the season, as he told her.

"I would love to, Jack," she had replied, grinning from ear to ear, thinking this reconciliation had gone miles better than she hoped.

Maggie had helped her pick out all the requisite equipment after she realised she would actually need hip waders and rods for the date. Expensive hobby, she remembered thinking when her friend rang up all the purchases at the cash register.

"I'd better catch something, huh?" she had ruefully asked.

"I think you already did," Maggie had quipped.

At the time, the meaning of those words had not been lost on Lisa. Now, after all the time since those early days when they were still practically strangers, Lisa wondered if he was still on the line, or if Jack had pulled loose. Severed from her life, he would be pulled away from her shore, lost to the currents of the passing world.

Despite never using the equipment again since that first date, Lisa had never availed herself of Maggie's promise of a refund.

I always hoped we would go fishing together again, Lisa mused. Why is it we never did? Maybe it's high time I got rid of all that stuff; I certainly won't be doing much fly fishing in France.

Lisa shook her head slightly, knowing she had to cease thinking about such matters and concentrate instead on getting her Fairfield business in order. As if on cue, her office line rang, its call display revealing a Montana area code.

Looks like I have an answer about Cinders, she rightly guessed.

"Lisa, hi! It's Wayne Mosley. I'll make this call short and sweet: We have a deal on your horse. I can have the funds wired to you today."

"That's great, Wayne," Lisa replied, squelching the sentiment that unexpectedly sprang up at the thought she was really going to be parting with the animal for good. "I can get transport booked for Cinders as early as Sunday."

"Perfect. Thanks, Lisa."

"You're welcome. Glad we were able to work something out."

"It's always a pleasure doing business with you. Take care. 'Bye."

"Likewise, Wayne. 'Bye."

**

Lightning almost as bright as day flashed, visible even through Lisa's closed eyelids. That alone might have been enough to awaken her, but the following crash of ear-splitting thunder made it impossible to remain in the land of dreams.

Lisa rolled over in bed, gradually becoming aware of the fact of the storm raging outside. When she cracked open an eye to check the time on the bedside digital clock, she could barely make out a blank display screen.

Have we lost power? she wondered groggily. Another flash of lightning briefly illuminated the bedroom. Her ears picked up on the wind-driven rains beating against the windowpanes. A quick glance outside confirmed Hudson had indeed lost power. Seconds later, the Fairfield generators kicked in, bringing to life the security lights outside. The numbers on the clock now blinked '12:00' a.m. in a rhythmic pattern, its green glow a slight irritant.

With a sigh, Lisa let her head fall back onto one of the many the pillows scattered about the mattress. Installing those generators had come at some expense, but she was grateful for them now and in times past when an outage occurred. She listened to the sounds of the storm, unable to fall back asleep quite yet. Some of the horses in the stables would be restless, and she wondered if Rhapsody was okay, given her expectant state.

Harry and the rest of the hands are going to be dealing with a few grumpy, skittish equines in the morning, she thought as she finally sat up to re-set the time on the clock after consulting her iPhone.

The lightning flashes were less frequent now; the answering thunder a distant rumble. The storm was either moving on or its intensity petering out.

Oh, no. Things are going to be a mess out there tomorrow, this new thought entered her mind, as it dawned on her the power loss was probably caused by downed tree branches. The trees around Fairfield were never spared damage in such instances in the past. The real estate agent would expect the property to be in pristine condition if there were going to be any showings.

Better call the landscaping company first thing... It was the last thought she remembered thinking before drifting off again.

**

Clean-up the morning after the storm that knocked out power at Heartland occupied a fair chunk of the Bartlett-Fleming-Morris family's time. Branches lay haphazardly about the yard. Piles of scattered leaves and twigs littered the ground, blown off by the earlier violent winds.

Tim pulled up in his truck uncharacteristically early to lend a hand, though he certainly had ulterior motives. Lisa made me promise not to tell Jack she was back in town. She didn't make me promise not to tell anyone else, though... He approached Amy, hoping to determine if Jack was wise to the situation of Lisa's return to Hudson.

"Guess who I saw in town yesterday?" he asked his daughter, unable to keep a lid on the information bubbling up to the surface.

The surprise that registered on Amy's face told him everything: Poor Jack was clueless.

**

Lisa's backside smarted. That's going to leave a bruise, she thought ruefully as she checked herself over for any other potential injuries after being unceremoniously dumped to the damp ground by Cinders. But no, every other part of her body seemed just fine. No broken bones or sprains, thank God. That's the last thing I would need right now just as I'm trying to get things sorted out at Fairfield. Now where has that horse trotted off to, and what the heck happened?

Lisa's brow creased as she recalled a sudden uncomfortable, intense buzzing sensation right before being tossed from the saddle. Her eyes sought and quickly spotted something that confirmed a dim suspicion: a downed tree tangled up with the line from an electrical fence erected around the slough Cinders had stepped into.

So that's what that shock was, Lisa realised.

"Cinders!" she called, hoping the sound of her voice would bring the horse back. It was usually an exercise in futility; Cinders was not trained to come when beckoned as a pet dog might. A careful inspection of the sod around her revealed hoof prints.

I hope that horse hasn't gone too far, Lisa thought in irritation. In truth, she was more annoyed at herself for not noticing the downed line. Fortunately, she spotted the dappled grey horse not too far away, pulling at some vegetation.

"Hey, you," Lisa softly chided as she approached him with deliberate caution. "What was that all about? Did you get spooked by that silly electric fence?"

Cinders seemed to bristle slightly when she neared, but he did not refuse when she took hold of his bridle. "Let's go home, huh?" she said, placing her right foot into the stirrup to mount up. With a squeeze of her calves, Lisa cued the horse to begin the return the way they came. Ahead, she could see the muddy banks of the slough along with the energizer and tangle of electrical wiring and branches.

Everything about the ride seemed normal until they were a few feet away from the water. Cinders stiffened as soon as he sighted the pond, stopping dead in his tracks. He balked when Lisa urged him on again; a snort of terror issued from his nostrils before he reared up in protest.

"Whoa, whoa!" Lisa called out, barely avoiding another fall as she regained her balance. "What's the matter with you?"

Without being commanded to do so, the horse backed away, giving his head a few contrary shakes.

"Come on, Cinders," Lisa coaxed, applying more pressure to his sides with her legs. She clicked her tongue loudly twice. The horse eventually got the idea, and he sidestepped the muddy bank, pacing off to the right, giving the slough a wide berth.

**

"Thank you for seeing me on such short notice, Scott," Lisa said.

"You've always been one of my best clients, Lisa," Scott commented warmly. "Happy to be of service. I was surprised to hear from you, to be honest; I haven't had a call from Fairfield in months."

"I know," she said vaguely, "being in France and all meant I wasn't as hands-on here as I have been in the past."

At that moment, Ty ambled in to the holding area. If he was surprised to see her there, he hid the emotion well. "Hi, Lisa," he said casually, as if this were any other normal visit.

"Hello, Ty," she answered back with a wan smile. Kicking herself mentally, she now knew she should have counted on the possibility Ty would be on duty at the clinic today. Oh, shoot. First Tim; now Ty. It's going to be impossible to keep my being in Hudson from Jack.

"I noticed the 'For Sale' signs up at Fairfield," Scott continued. "Don't tell me you're thinking of leaving us for good?"

Lisa bobbed her head, still wary of Ty's presence. "Yeah, I've had a good run here," she replied. "I'm looking at a new opportunity in Avignon."

With that short answer, both Scott and Ty understood she was not going to say anything more on the topic.

"So what's going on with this guy?" Scott asked, looking now at the horse. "You said something about an electrical fence?"

"Uh, yes," Lisa spoke up, re-organizing her thoughts to focus on the reason for her hasty appointment. "Meet Cinders."

The horse's level of agitation had come down since the earlier ride, but Lisa caught subtle cues that told a different story, making it clear to her Cinders was not over the sudden electrical shock they had experienced at the slough. She explained the whole episode while Scott examined the animal, inviting Ty to do the same as a learning exercise.

Presently, Scott declared: "In my medical opinion, there's nothing wrong with him physically, Lisa."

"That's good," Lisa said in relief. She rubbed Cinders' forehead. "It's just that he now absolutely refuses to go near water, Scott. The shock was pretty intense. Even I felt it right before I ended up on my butt. I'm afraid he thinks he's going to get zapped every time he steps into a puddle."

"I wish there was a magic pill I could give him to cure aquaphobia," Scott said with a smirk.

"Yeah, I know," Lisa sighed. "I just sold him yesterday to a guy in Montana. He's being shipped out on Sunday. I can't sell a 'defective' product."

"Want me to ask Amy if she can take the case?" Ty interjected, sympathetic to her situation.

Lisa contemplated. Involving Amy came with a risk. If Jack found out... She was grateful Ty had not asked any prying questions, seemingly aware the topic of her reappearance was verboten, but his suggestion was her best chance at fixing the problem.

"Okay," she eventually replied. "But could you—could you please tell her to keep it confidential...? Jack doesn't know I'm back, and I mean to keep it that way."

Ty nodded at her with understanding; Scott looked at her quizzically, but wisely held his tongue.

"Thanks," she said, blowing out a breath. "I hope she can figure him out before Sunday. But then again, she's always come through for me in the past. Go ahead, Ty. He's all yours."

"I'll get Cinders trailered out to Heartland right away," Ty said, taking hold of the lead rope.

Once Ty was safely on the way back to Heartland, Lisa carried on with some additional errands. As she drove, she came to the conclusion she was simply prolonging the inevitable. Even though I've sworn Scott, Ty and Tim to secrecy, walls have ears. Jack's going to know I'm here before the day is done, guaranteed.

**

Jack's sleep had been restive and uneasy. Katie's fright over the storm in addition to her irritability at missing Lou had not made for a peaceful night. Pete had sheepishly apologized for the toddler's cries, but the older man sympathized. He had been through those same parenting woes when Marion had been a baby, though he had admittedly missed months at a time of her growing up due to being on the rodeo circuit.

As Jack drove out to the town Yard Waste and Recycle Centre to deposit their dead branches and leaf sweepings, he wondered what his grandson-in-law was going to do if Katie continued to regress in her potty-training regimen. Clearly, these new parents had not counted on a lengthy separation between child and mother during this crucial time. Pete was doing his best, but it seemed not to be enough at this time.

He was still pondering this problem on his return trip to Heartland, slowly coming to the realisation there might not be any easy solutions. He was so engrossed in this mental exercise he had a double-take when he spotted a woman he thought he recognized on the side of the road.

Lisa?! he thought in a daze. It can't be.

But his eyes were not deceiving him. This was no case of mistaken identity as in times past when he thought he saw her in town. This was his old flame, quietly checking her mail like any other person. Only she was not any other person. She was the one who somehow managed to slip through his fingers. A subtle heat burned in his chest as he brought the truck to a slow roll before setting the brake.

Lisa is back. What is she doing here? Why is she back? Lisa is here.

Jack very nearly stumbled over his two feet on his approach. He could tell she heard his footsteps though he was trying to be stealthy.

"Hi, Lisa," he uttered, unsure of what to say now that he had been presented with this unexpected opportunity to talk with her.

She looked up almost guiltily at him.

Busted, Lisa thought. Here I am, trying to avoid Jack this whole time, and he has to spot me getting the mail. How silly is that?

Yet, her heart swelled at the sight of this cowboy, dressed as usual in his boots, jeans, plaid-patterned shirt, coat and hat. He looks healthy. I'm so glad. And now that she had seen him, every word she had once hoped to speak to him fled from her mind, leaving her tongue-tied. Her first instinct was to bolt from the scene rather than try to explain why she had not told him she was in Hudson. That same reticence seemed to be reflected in Jack's eyes; this unplanned encounter thoroughly throwing them both into an state of confusion.

They both mouthed meaningless words to each other, clumsily working through some semblance of a conversation that lasted less than a minute. Twin coals that once burned as one had turned stone cold, the former lovers behaving more like passing acquaintances. Absent from this meeting was any sense of excitement or jubilation; no crushing embrace or feverish kiss.

Jack's heart sank perceptibly when Lisa admitted she had been back for maybe a week—and that she was selling Fairfield.

"Well, I guess that was always the plan, wasn't it?" he spoke with an air of indifference, despite the chill brought on by the revelation. Yes, you always said you wanted to retire to France, Lisa. I never figured it would be so soon; and not without telling me, first.

Rather than prolong the sheer awkwardness of the encounter, Lisa excused herself, claiming—truthfully—she had a busy schedule to keep.

"'Bye'," she said, before turning to climb into the SUV.

"'Bye'," Jack managed to articulate, a lump forming in his throat watching her hasty retreat.

No "See you later" or "Let's catch up soon", and certainly not anything close to "I'm ready to make up".

Jack looked on a second or two while Lisa drove away, struck by the memory of another similar departure over a year prior, the one that had come as a sort of coda to their "break". Attempts had been made back then to repair that break; circumstances had not been in their favour.

"Not goodbye," he had corrected her at the time, a sad smile creasing his face. He remembered being heartsick at the prospect of suffering another lengthy separation from her, especially when their relationship was still so fractured.

"'til next time," she had repeated, her eyes misting, almost as if she sensed it could very well be the last time they ever saw each other.

The fact it almost was the last time they ever saw each other was not lost on Jack. His brush with death brought her rushing back. Now, he considered something new: Would she ever have come back if I had not had the heart attack? She did write that letter... But no. Just as swiftly as she had arrived, she had left him.

And now she's driving away again. For a fleeting moment he entertained the notion of chasing her down. No, that would be foolish, Jack thought, idly scratching the side of his face. She gave no indication she was happy to see me; let it go. That whole meeting went over like a lead balloon. Dejected, he paced back to his truck, trying to stem the flood of old memories of happier times with Lisa.

We're driving off in opposite directions. I'm going to Heartland, and she's going to Fairfield. She's selling Fairfield. I must have missed the realtor's signs, somehow. Jack knew how he had missed them, however, as he had taken to deliberately avoiding looking at Lisa's property any time his course took him along the stretch of road bordering it.

He could not help but remember the first time he had seen Fairfield up close. I was driving Lisa back after I told off that jerk of an ex-husband of hers. I was so happy that she still wanted to talk to me after leaving her stranded at the auction. She's so forgiving. Why did she give me a second chance? She accepted my apology so easily. I thought I had blown it.

His brain had been spinning at top speed throughout that drive, reaching for some way of asking her out on an honest-to-goodness date, but could think of no simple way to bring up the subject. Thank goodness she had provided an opening when she playfully asked if he had a plan in mind about how he was going to make it up to her. He had always felt comfortable and relaxed at his cabin, so before he even knew what he was saying, he asked if she was free to go fly fishing with him in a few weeks.

"Well, as a matter of fact... I do have something in mind about how to make it up to you..."

And she said "yes" so quickly, I almost couldn't believe my ears. What was I thinking asking a woman like Lisa out to a ratty old fishing cabin for a date?

Presently, Jack pulled back into Heartland. The sun was starting to go down, splashing golden rays across the open fields, highlighting the tops of the trees. He noticed Amy and Georgie in the jumping pen; the former taking a new horse around the course over what looked like empty liverpools. Heart and feet heavy, he dragged himself onto the porch and sank heavily into the bench, mind still full of that first date with her.

"To whatever it is," she had toasted them, a spark of warmth bursting in those blue eyes he already loved so dearly.

Whatever it was, Jack now thought with a doleful shake of his head. She didn't even tell me she was back in Hudson. After all we've been through, she didn't see it fit to tell me she was selling Fairfield. I deserved that much at least, didn't I?

But the more he tried to take umbrage at Lisa's lack of communication this time around, the more he was convicted of his own behaviour the last time they were together. She doesn't want anything to do with me after that falling out we had over that ridiculous hospital bed. The spark in her eyes was gone today. I never thought those eyes could look so cold... And sad.

It tormented him to know he was the proximate cause of that sadness and cold, impersonal reception.

**

Of all the dumb luck. I can't believe after all that avoidance, I had to run into Jack at the mailboxes. Lisa replayed that disappointing encounter, analysing each careless word spoken, wondering what she might have done differently. I honestly have no idea how to interpret how that went down back there, she thought. I don't know how to read that expression on Jack's face. Was he happy to see me? He didn't sound like it. And he certainly didn't sound surprised when I told him I was selling my place. What did I expect, anyway? That he would break down and beg me to stay? Oh, no. That's not Jack Bartlett's style. In fact, I have no idea at all what he was thinking. It's like we were almost strangers by the way we talked.

Lisa pulled onto the access road to Fairfield, flashing by the 'For Sale' sign. Her heart throbbed after concluding that might very well have been the last time she ever saw Jack. What a sour note to end things on, she mused bitterly. What a wasted opportunity.

Business concerns soon took over once again as she was obliged to inspect the clean-up job done by the landscaping company. Everything looked ship-shape; Fairfield would be more than ready for prospective buyers the realtor wished to bring for a viewing.

Out of nowhere, a distant memory of Val Stanton's mocking voice surfaced. "So, you'll be living at Fairfield, then?"

Lisa paused in her tracks, swept up in the residual irritation of that long-ago exchange. "Jack did hit the jackpot, didn't he?" Val had teased, though she seemed to know she was poking at one of Lisa's private insecurities. "I'm sure you'll have an ironclad pre-nup."

Val's thinly veiled antagonism stirred up feelings of resentment now. Jack and Lisa's hasty engagement was over just as quickly as it had begun, all because they truly had not seriously considered how their lives would come together in a practical sense. Oh, we had the romantic side figured out, Lisa acknowledged, but now even that's gone. No engagement, no marriage. We'll never be together at Fairfield now, and we certainly won't ever have France. Our relationship is officially road-kill, and I'll bet Val the Vulture is still lurking around, just waiting for an opportunity to pounce.

**

Next Chapter: Chapter 24: Things I’ve Been Meaning to Tell You

[silvadraconis]

My mastersona Backstory \o/

Hey! so, I figured I’d try to write down the backstory for my mastersona in fate, so, yeah! here it is!

(also tagging a few peeps who might wanna read this)

@tricketra @panyum

Hi! Im dead.

Well kinda

I know, weird way to start a story, but I’ll explain I promise

My name is Jade, or Silva as most people call me, I was a young mage from a not very well known family. I was/am one of the 48 master candidates for the chaldea project. I have above average magic circuits, and a decent mana pool, with a propensity for combat magic.

I was scouted out by Chaldea for these things, and I thought of course I'll join! Getting to rayshift around saving the world, sounds great! A chance for me to do some good in the world, you know? A chance that without them I never would have gotten since my family isn't very well known, at all really, least that was my thought when i joined up.

Now how does that make me dead? And if I'm dead, how can I talk? Hold on, I'm getting there.

Then came that fateful day at chaldea, an alarm sounding in Fuyuki, and we were to go and investigate. All of use master candidates gathered in the Rayshift room, me at least being somewhat nervous but excited, *this was it!* I thought, *I'm finally going to be able to help!*

Then the whole world exploded

Well not the whole world, just the rayshift room

There was fire, smoke, and pain, lots of pain

I heard screams, cries

And it all started to go, weirdly silent

I felt myself drifting away

*No!* I thought, *I don't want to go! I don't want to die! I have things I want to do! I was finally going to be able to help people! I was finally going to be useful!*

As I thought these things I heard voices, 2 voices as a matter of fact, talking to each other, reassuring, I thought if I could just get to them, if I could just hold on to them somehow, maybe I could stay,,,

Well, turns out the voice I focused on was none other than Ritsuka Fujimaru, also known as Guada, a young girl with fiery red hair, who had come in last in the master candidate slots, who had gotten yelled at by Olga during the briefing, she was consoling Mash, a demi servant who was supposed to come with us in the mission

And it also turns out that, I actually did manage to get to them, to hold on, to stay, just..not in the way I intended

So that part about me dying? Yeah that actually happened, I got squished like a pancake in the explosion. But a part of me somehow managed to stick around, and had latched onto Guada, to this day we still don't know how, some theorize it was because of Guadas ability to bond with any servant that allowed me to latch on like a little leech, but we don't really know

During the first singularity, with Mash and Guada making their way through fuyuki, to say I was confused was an understatement. I couldn't understand how no one could see me! Why weren't they responding?! Until we met up with Castor that is, he let them know that there appeared to be some sorta ghost trailing after them, which after he said that he would have taken my head off if I had one with that staff of his.

That shocked me more than a little at that point by the way, the whole, staff going through my head bit, cause at that point I hadn't realized id bit the dust, I thought they just didn't like me or something

Cut to a while later and some advice with castor and we make it outta fuyuki, during the end with the fight with salter, i realized I wanted to help, I didn't know how but I had to try, something, anything, and that was the first time I merged with Guada, almost like possession but, we’re both still here, it was weird, but compared to all the other weirdness it felt natural. I fought with them, lending my strength, and we made it out

From that point on me and Guada have gotten better and better at talking and merging. We’re kinda like 2 people sharing a body, only sometimes one of those people can float off and look around all ghosty like(that person being me if you couldn't tell)

In fights where I’m sharing my power Guada is said to change appearance, her hair grows longer, and gets more and more blond the more the fight goes on and I use more of my magic through them, and their eyes, usually a fiery red/orange, shift into a dark brown, which from the sounds of some people can be quite intimidating having someone's eyes literally darken as they stare you down. and sometimes if things get really intense we get a neat double voice effect on our speech, though usually it's either me or her talking

Most servants know about me, some don't, but the ones that do simply shrug and go, well guess we have 2 masters, no big deal, which is cool (although interestingly enough it seems while we share the same body we don't share the same mind, a fact confirmed by Dantes and Merlin) And some servants get along better with me, some more with guada. Well not really better, since guada is good at making friends with anyone, but some are closer with me, like Dantes, Merlin, Hektor, Robin, Musashi to name a few. Which is nice, helps me remember I’m my own person even though I gotta share limbs with someone.

When it comes to farming and directing me and Guada take turns, that way we can get enough rest between us(though sometimes I don't know what compels them to say some of the stuff they do) I can also talk through them, and that can also trigger some appearance shifts, which from what others say is much appreciated that way they know who they're talking to, though I can also talk in my ghosty form, just most everyone but some servants and Guada cant hear me.

But that's me really, I'm dead, but not really, and am just doing my part to help wherever I can.

We’ve all been through alot, but we’re gonna fix history yet, just watch us