#especially as explanations for place names or just local legends about a well or a hill

[reallunargift]

So I was talking to @sisididis the other day about love stories in portuguese folklore. At the time I couldn’t think of any on the spot, and decided I’d make a post later. So here it is.

I tried to look for legends with happier endings, but either this country is allergic to them or my own bias is at work here. Heads up (ha) that there will be gruesome details under the cut for the irl ones (is it really a portuguese love story if decapitation isn’t involved?)

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Almond blossoms

You already know this one, but it’s my favourite so let me start with it for those who don’t know it. This story’s setting is the Algarve when it was still under Muslim rule, namely the city of Silves. Ibn-Almundim was the young king, and he was known as a formidable warrior. One day among his prisoners he spotted Gilda, a beautiful Christian princess from the north. He granted her freedom and the two fell in love and married.

Despite loving her husband, Gilda became very sad and started wasting away. The king sent for wise men from all over, yet no one could determine what was wrong with her. Until finally a prisoner from the same land as Gilda heard about it and asked to be seen by the ruler. He told Ibn-Almundim that Gilda was suffering from homesickness, specifically that she missed the snowy landscapes of her homeland.

So Ibn-Almundim ordered that thousands of almond trees be planted outside the palace. When the trees flowered (late January/early February), Gilda looked out the window and found the entire landscape covered in white. The almond blossoms mimicked snow, which filled her with joy and she quickly recovered, and as far as we know they lived happily ever after.

____

Lagoon of the Seven Cities

Once upon a time in the island of São Miguel in the Azores, there lived a beautiful and kind princess called Antília, who loved to roam around the countryside. During one of these strolls, she heard the beautiful sound of a flute and came upon a young shepherd. The two started meeting up everyday, talking and falling more and more in love. The king found out (either by himself or when the shepherd asked for Antília’s hand in marriage) and forbade her from seeing the boy ever again. He also arranged a marriage for her with a prince of another kingdom.

Obedient to her father’s wishes, the princess asked to be allowed to see the shepherd one last time, to which the king agreed. Knowing they’d never see each other again, the two embraced and cried so much that their tears created the blue and green lagoon, mirroring the couple’s eye colours.

____

Montedor

This story centres on Aldara, the beloved sister of the Muslim ruler of the area around Gaia, and a Christian prisoner. Aldara's brother spares him because he’s a troubadour, and has him entertain his court. Aldara, a lover of music and poetry, soon falls in love with the troubadour who seems to be singing especially for her. They meet each other in secret until deciding to run away together to the north, but the ruler’s men soon catch up to them. Her brother wants to forgive Aldara, but when it proves impossible to physically separate the two lovers due to how tightly they are embracing, he angrily orders them both to be thrown into the stormy sea.

The sea immediately calmed down, receiving the two gently. Aldara’s brother returned to his palace in Gaia, where he lived out the rest of his days in bitterness. The place where the incident occurred became known as Monte da Dor (Hill/Mountain of Pain), which is the origin of the modern name for it: Montedor.

But the legend doesn’t end there! It’s said that in stormy nights, fishermen in the Montedor area can see two silhouettes embracing each other in the waves. These silhouettes calm their fears and push their boats towards safety and away from the storm.

____

Serra da Marofa

This story is set in the 16th century, after the Jews are expelled from Spain. A widower called Zacuto and his daughter Ofa settle in Castelo Rodrigo in Portugal. Luís, a Christian nobleman from a neighbouring village, hears about them and decides to go meet them. Of course he and Ofa fall in love, much to the dislike of her father and his mother.

Whenever he was asked where he was going, Luís would cheerfully say he was going to "amar Ofa" (to love Ofa), and so the mountain became known as Serra da Marofa.

Luís and Ofa do get together in the end. In one version, he gets Zacuto's blessing by "saving" him from robbers (who were Luís' friends in disguise), and in another Zacuto and Ofa convert to Christianity following king Manuel I's edict, which ends Luís´ mother's opposition. So I'd count it as a bittersweet ending, because they get to be together, but the historical context is very sad.

____

Serra da Estrela

Once upon a time there was a shepherd who wished to travel beyond his little village. One night a star told him that if he followed her light in the sky, he would find the place he’d always dreamed of. So the shepherd (and his faithful dog) left the village and walked for many years, always following the star in the sky. Until one day they finally arrived to a beautiful mountain range, the peak of which was so tall that  they could speak to the star every night. The shepherd and his dog lived there for many happy years until their dying day. The star remained, of course, and because she knew a shepherd’s love and knows what missing someone feels like, she shines differently from all the other stars around her. This explains how Serra da Estrela, which is mainland Portugal’s highest mountain range, got its name, as "estrela" means "star".

And of course there are many versions of this story, though all keep the central theme of the shepherd and the star. In one version, a king hears about the shepherd’s star and wants to buy her, but the shepherd refuses to sell his friend, which makes the star immensely happy, and contributes to her different glow. In another version the shepherd also names his dog in the same way as the mountain range, which is a reference to the Serra da Estrela dog breed.

_______________

I know this post is for legends, but I’d like to mention some love stories that we know for sure happened (even if they were surely embellished in literature)

____

Pedro and Inês

Arguably the most famous love story is that of the heir prince Pedro, who upon meeting his arranged bride fell in love with her lady-in-waiting instead, Inês de Castro.

The king and the court were against this relationship, but no matter how many times Inês was banished, Pedro’s love for her would not waver. When his wife died, Pedro refused to marry anyone else. He and Inês started living together and rumours that they had married in secret also started circulating. After 15 years of this affair and seeing no other way out, the king ordered Inês’ execution. It’s said that Pedro was out hunting when three assassins beheaded her.

To this day the place where it happened is called Estate of Tears (Quinta das Lágrimas). There you can find the Fountain of Loves (Fonte dos Amores) and the Fountain of Tears (Fonte das Lágrimas). The Fountain of Loves got its name due to witnessing the love between Pedro and Inês, while the Fountain of Tears is said to have been created by the tears spilled when Inês was murdered. Some algae that grow there are said to have been dyed red by her spilled blood.

Pedro rebelled against his father, but revenge would only come after he was crowned king. Two of the assassins were brought back from Castile and executed, and it’s said that Pedro watched this while having dinner. Legend says that he ordered one of the murderers' hearts to be ripped from his chest, and the other from his back, because they had destroyed his own heart by killing his beloved Inês. There are also versions where he either bites one of the hearts or actually eats it.

Pedro then declared that he had married Inês in secret and legitimised their children together. He had her corpse exhumed and dressed as a queen, and the court was made to kiss her hand. His and Inês’ tombs face each other, so that when Judgment Day comes and all the dead rise, the first thing they will see is each other.

____

Camilo Castelo Branco and Ana Plácido

Camilo is a famous Portuguese writer from the 19th century. He fell in love with Ana Plácido, a fellow writer who was already married. Eventually they ran away together, soon being found by her husband. Ana was sent to a convent, but managed to escape and returned to Camilo’s arms. After this, Ana’s husband pressed charges and both Ana and Camilo were arrested for adultery. They awaited trial in the same prison for around a year, where Camilo was visited by King Pedro V and wrote one of his most famous works, Amor de Perdição. The book is about a forbidden romance between two youths from rival families, and ends with the tragic lovers separated and dead.

Camilo’s protagonist is convicted for murder and exiled to India, but Camilo himself would have a different fate. The trial was tense, but in the end he and Ana were both released as the judge decided that the crime hadn’t been proven (public opinion seems to have been on the couple’s side as well, because who doesn’t like a good illicit love story?) Once again they went right back to each other, living together and finally marrying after her husband died.

Afflicted by blindness and unable to write, Camilo asked a famous doctor to come see him. There was nothing that could be done, and when the doctor was leaving Camilo shot himself. He fell into a painful coma before finally dying hours later. I’ve read some theories that he might have planned this doctor’s visit so that Ana wouldn’t be the one to find him, and so she had someone who could help her and be a witness to what had happened.

____

Henriqueta Emília da Conceição and Teresa Maria de Jesus

Henriqueta was a prostitute who by the age of 20 had become very wealthy, and who fell in love with another prostitute, Teresa. Madly in love, the two lived together until Teresa died in 1868. Heartbroken, Henriqueta made her a beautiful grave. When people came to mourn Teresa’s death, Henriqueta asked them to leave for a bit so she could have a final moment with her. Then she beheaded Teresa’s body and took her head home with her. It seems Henriqueta didn’t really hide this, and soon she was brought to trial. Henriqueta claimed that she was a relative of Teresa’s, but by now the nature of their relationship was known.

The judge absolved her, however, seeing the crime as a desperate act of devoted love. Henriqueta is buried in the same graveyard as Teresa, but not in the same grave. There’s a story that two nights a year you can hear her lamenting for her lost love.

.

.

.

[ayamari-no-goshi]

Verboten 3 | (T)

ff.net | AO3

Fandom: Danny Phantom (DP)

Summary:   AU. When Danny was five years old, he went missing for 2 weeks. In the years that follow, his family tried to make sense of what happened, only for the truth to be discovered years later.

Warnings: rated T for violence, mentions of death, language. Be prepared for some very weird things

Parings: Danny/Sam

Notes: originally uploaded to Ff.net. Cross-posted to AO3 and tumblr. This fic is very heavily inspired by folklore surrounding mysterious wilderness disappearances

Chapter 3

“You heard me. They’re saying he’s dead,” Dash clarified as he watched Danny for his reaction. “And from what Kwan said, his body was really messed up.”

Danny rolled his eyes as Tucker stuttered in fear. Dash was known for trying to scare his ‘victims,’ so most likely he was just trying to get a rise out of them. “Yeah, yeah, and what’s your proof?” he asked as he sat down on his bed.

That caused the jock to back track. “Well… Kwan said…”

“Dash, I get we’re in the middle of the woods, and you’re in a prime position to tell ghost stories, but unless you have proof, this is not something you should joke about,” Danny scolded which drew a few surprised looks.

“What? It goes against your morals?”

The teen’s sneer was enough to cause uncharacteristic anger to flood through him. After taking a deep breath to calm himself, Danny glowered at him. “I’m only going to explain this once,” he warned as he tried to sound deadly serious, “I’ve seen the aftermath of what happens in a family who has someone go missing, especially when there’s no explanation as to what happened. It’s not pretty, and when it comes to people who get out here all sorts of terrible things can happen, so you shouldn’t be spreading rumors that could reach the family.”

“Wait, hold on. Fenton, you had someone in your family go missing?” one of the other jocks, Zach, asked. Danny was actually surprised he caught on to that. “Did they at least find them?”

“Luckily, they did, but that’s the reason my parents were so vocal against me going, and while I think they’re way too extreme about it, I, at least, understand their concerns.”

“But, no offense, your parents go on and on about weird creatures, ghosts, and other weird crap.”

“Well, yeah, that’s what happens when you try to rationalize what happened when nothing else makes sense. They were already involved in fringe metaphysics and stuff before that happened, so it was a logical jump for them to consider time slips and other dimensions with how bizarre everything was.”

A silence fell between them as they let Danny’s words sink in. It seemed that Zach wanted to say something else, but decided against it. Dash did eventually mumble something about how he’d drop it for now. That by itself was enough validation for Danny.

“Hey,” Tucker hesitantly spoke up after several minutes as all of them began to lay down, “do you think that kind of thing is real? I mean like falling into other dimensions and stuff.”

Danny didn’t answer him immediately. “To be honest with you, I really don’t know. I know there are a lot of legends regarding things like this, and my parents’ research at least suggests the concept of other dimensions is possible. I know the concept of wormholes are mathematically supported, and that some astronomers think wormholes could possibly bridge dimensions, but we don’t have the technology to get close to one or survive it. But random rips appearing in the woods? It sounds more like sci-fi horror movie stuff, but sometimes, as stupid as it sounds, that’s the only thing that makes sense.”

…..

“Maybe Kwan was right,” Tucker mused when he and Danny exited their cabin the next morning.

There were police officers present, and an ambulance with closed doors was on the far side of the camp. Danny briefly caught sight of an officer speaking to the driver of the ambulance until he noticed the markings on the ambulance were off. After a moment, he realized it belonged to the local Coroner. If that was the case, then there was a body retrieved.

“Well, I don’t know if it was that missing camper, but something definitely happened to someone,” Danny agreed as they made their way to the mess hall for breakfast.

The worst was confirmed as breakfast was finished. Rusty once again stood in front of them. His face was somehow bleaker than the previous day as he confirmed that the missing camper had been found deceased. After the murmurs of the teenagers quieted, he continued, “I know you’re supposed to be out here for fun, but unfortunately, this circumstance happened. We are going to do our best, after the police finish their investigation, to make sure you enjoy yourself here. However, the police have requested to interview each of you to see if anyone you may have seen or heard anything while you were out yesterday. They have also requested that no one go off by themselves while they were under investigation. Please go in groups of at least two. We rangers will also try to be with you when you’re outside of camp, but we may be stretched a little thin during the investigation.”

“I’m surprised they aren’t sending us home,” Tucker mentioned once Rusty was finished speaking and the roar of the students overtook the mess hall.

“I don’t think they can. I mean, the police need to talk to us, and since it’s an open investigation, they won’t want anyone to leave the area until they’ve determined there’s nothing else they can do here,” Sam pointed out as she checked her phone.

“Hey, are you able to get any service?” Danny asked her. “I couldn’t reach my parents yesterday.”

“It’s weird. Yesterday, I could, but I’m having trouble getting service this morning.”

“Now that you mention it, I noticed that too,” Tucker added as he brought out his PDA. “And that’s the thing, with how I modified this, that shouldn’t be the case. I wonder if there’s a disrupter somewhere nearby.”

“You mean a cell phone disrupter?”

He nodded as he leaned towards them. His voice lowered as he glanced around the room. “I’m not sure if anyone else noticed it. I think most of our classmates think it’s just because we’re in the woods, but that’s not really how it works anymore. This is something that should be brought up to the police.”

“I think you’re right,” Danny agreed as he checked his phone again. “And with everything happening, I think I won’t be able to use the ranger’s phone today either.”

….

About an hour after breakfast finished, the police began their interviews of the students. While Danny and his friends waited for their turn, they hung out near the front of the mess hall. They didn’t say much, but instead, they decided to watch the area.

A while later, a long black limousine approached from the only road fit for normal vehicles and came into the camp. A few minutes after it parked, a well-dressed man with silver hair exited. As one of the officers approached the man, Danny finally realized why he recognized him.

“Oh, that’s Vlad. I wonder why he’s here,” he mused as he watched. After a moment, he noticed his friends were gaping at him. “What’s wrong?”

“You know the Vladimir Masters?” Tucker nearly choked. “He’s one of the most influential billionaires in the world!”

“He is? I knew he had money, since he helps fund some of my parents’ experiments, but I didn’t realize it was that much. Anyways, apparently he and my parents went to college together. With how often he visited when we were younger, Jazz and I kind of view him as an uncle.”

“That’s actually pretty impressive. My parents know him due to some of the business galas they’ve attended,” Sam mentioned as a devious smirk crossed her face. “Oh, I can’t wait to tell them that Vlad is your parents’ benefactor. Mother dearest will have a conniption.”

Their conversation turned to what Danny knew of the man, and he answered the best he could. As he thought about it, he realized he didn’t know a lot of personal details about the man. Vlad tended to focus on the people around him and avoid talking about himself. He just figured Vlad was a very private person.

When Vlad finished speaking with the officer, he approached the trio. “Oh, Daniel! What a surprise! I never expected to run into you in a place like this with how protective Maddie is.” His tone was pleasant, but his exaggerated gestures almost made it seem like he was acting.

“We’re here on a school trip. I guess the PTA and teachers managed to convince her and Dad we’d be protected. But why are you here? No offense, but seeing you in the middle of the woods in a suit is weird,” Danny replied nonchalantly. He was used to Vlad’s over the top behavior.

“It’s unfortunate, really,” he explained as he glanced over his shoulder towards the officers. “The gentleman who they found dead works for one of my companies. I came out to see if the police officers required any assistance with resources, funds or otherwise, and offer my services.” As he turned back to face Danny, his eyes widened as he seemingly noticed Sam and Tucker for the first time. “Ah, you must be Daniel’s friends. Where are my manners? I’m Vladimir Masters, but you may call me Vlad.” He extended his hand towards them.

Tucker eagerly took his hand, but Sam was a little more hesitant. “I’m surprised that a big name like yourself personally looks in on their workers,” she told him.

A pleasant hum escaped the man. “I do try to keep tabs on those I employ. This particular incident, however, is extremely tragic and unusual, so I felt it was prudent to personally show my support for those investigating.”

“Yeah? I’ve also heard that killers like to inject themselves into investigations.”

“Sam!?”

“It’s quite alright, Daniel,” Vlad told him as he flashed a pleasant smile. “She does bring up a valid point, and it’s likely I will be asked a few more questions at a later time as a result. However, I can assure you that I was in my office a few states away when Mr. Aiden Jones was reported missing. Hmm, I also think I may have a word with your teacher. With a tragic event like this, it’s unwise to have you remain here when it is unclear if it is safe or not. Now, if you excuse me.”

As Vlad began to turn, Danny took a step closer as a thought crossed his mind. “Oh, Vlad, I hate to ask, but would you happen to have a phone I can use to call my parents? Mom left me a frantic message, but my phone’s not working, and I can’t use the Rangers’ phone right now…”

The man appraised him for a moment. “I don’t have a phone on me right now, but I do have one in my car. While I don’t think your teacher or the police would find it appropriate to let you in my car at the moment, I can at least give them a call for you.”

“Thank you!”

Vlad flashed him a large grin. “Anything for you, dear boy. But, I really must be off. Ta!” With that, he walked away, approached one of the nearby rangers, and struck up a conversation.

“So that’s Vlad Masters,” Tucker mentioned once he was certain the man was out of earshot. “I can’t figure out if I like him or not.”

“I don’t. It felt like everything he said and did was an act,” Sam told them as she crossed her arms. Her eyes never left the billionaire.

Danny just shrugged as he put his hands in his pockets. “He’s always been like that. I don’t really know if it’s because being involved in business, or because he lives alone.”

“He lives alone? No family or anything?”

“Nope,” he replied as he popped the ‘p’. “He’s never had anyone as long as I’ve known him. Both Dad and Mom like to ask him about whether or not he’s dating anyone whenever he’s stopped by, but he’s always answered that he’s too busy. I think Mom’s tried to hook him up with a few dates, but it never panned out.”

A frown crossed Tucker’s features as he glanced at the man. “You’d think he’d have people throwing themselves at him because of his wealth.”

“That might be why he isn’t seeing anyone. Anyways, any thoughts on what happened?”

“Not really,” Sam replied as she glanced towards some of the rangers and police. “If they thought it was just an accident, you’d think they’d come right out and tell us. I’m going to assume they aren’t sure, so they need to try to rule out a few things before they tell us anything.”

“Looks like we’ll have a chance to ask one of the officers. I guess it’s our turn to be interviewed,” Danny mentioned as one of the officers caught their attention and beckoned them.

A few minutes later, the officer took them into the mess hall. It was fairly routine. The officer, Malik, assured them they weren’t in any trouble or suspects. He just wanted to know if they had seen or heard anything while they were out on the trails the previous day. They explained that everything seemed normal, and they couldn’t recall seeing anything out of the norm. Tucker did mention that the three of them were having trouble with their cell phones.

Officer Malik made a strange expression at the new information, but did say anything regarding it. He just thanked them for their time, and sent them on their way.

Before he left the room, Danny spoke up, “Sir, do you know what happened? Should we be worried?”

He was silent for a few moments before replying. “We’re pretty sure he just had a bad accident, but, since we don’t have an official answer yet, we do have to investigate and take statements. Sorry this had to happen while you kids are on a trip.”

Danny thanked him and hurried out the door with his friends. “So, what do you think?” he asked as he checked behind him to make sure no one was paying attention to them as they walked behind one of the cabins.

“That’s pretty cut and dry, isn’t it?” Tucker asked as he scratched his head. “Accidents do happen.”

“Yeah, but the officer didn’t reassure us it was safe. Danny, you noticed it too?” When he nodded, Sam continued, “I think they’re trying to downplay what might have happened which worries me. And since our cell phones still aren’t working properly, it makes me more anxious. I guess Vlad was right. We shouldn’t be here right now.”

“Sam! Don’t say things like that!” The scared whine in Tucker’s voice almost made Danny laugh. “You’ll see, Dash and his jerk friends will use it to tell ghost stories tonight. I not going to be happy if I lose sleep.”

“And here I thought you liked scary stories.”

“Not when we’re smack dab in the middle of the beginning of a real life horror movie!”

[imanativeofswlondondahling]

Becoming A Stark? (16)- Peter Parker x Stark! femReader

Word Count: 1828

Warnings: Swearing, that should be all I’m pretty sure

Author’s Note: Something has been up with my taglist but I think I fixed it, so make sure you’ve caught up on the past chapters before this. Also if you want to be added to future tags, let me know! 

Chapter One || Previous Chapter || Master List 

You saw it trending on Twitter the next morning. Delmar’s had caught fire when someone robbed a bank across the street the night before. Apparently Mr. Delmar and Murph were ok, thanks to our Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man. But Delmar’s destroyed? This was basically the end of your existence until it was fixed. “My. Life. Is. Over.” You dramatically say before laying your head to rest on the table next to the stack of pancakes Pepper had placed on the table.

“Ok, Tony Jr., why is your life over?” Tony hears Pepper tease you as he comes down the stairs.

“Delmar’s was destroyed.”

“You’re giving her syrup and no green juice? This has to be fixed.” Tony says, ignoring the statement that came out of your mouth.

“I stand corrected, now my life is now over.” You don’t really mind the green juice all that much, but on a day like today you don’t have time for celery, apple and kale juice when the best sandwich shop in Queens is gone. “Dad, you have to fix it. This is an Iron Man level problem.”

Those words make Tony pause and look at his teenage daughter. You’ve never said anything is an Iron Man level problem before. “What am I missing here?” Tony glances at Pepper.

“Her favorite sandwich shop was destroyed last night.”

���My life is over until it’s fixed.”

“That sounds more like a Tony Stark could fix it problem than an Iron Man problem.”

“Well Iron Man could talk to Spider-Man and see why he couldn’t stop the bad guys from exploding it? Like what does Spider-Man have against Delmar’s?” Your hands throw dramatically outward as if they don’t understand why someone who is supposed to save the neighborhood would destroy a local legend.

“I don’t think Spider-Man hates Delmar’s. It was probably an accident.” He watches as you pull out your phone and snapchat one of the most dejected faces he’s ever seen you make. “Who are you messaging?” He can’t help but ask.

“Peter. He’s probably just as upset as I am. He loves that place.”

“Oh you have no idea kiddo.”

“Oh one more thing. Can I stay home from school?” You look up at your dad, pulling what you hope looks like puppy dog eyes.

“You don’t seem that upset, but let me hear your best reasons why you should be allowed to stay home.”

“Because I’m facing personal trauma?” You suggest and Tony stares at you for a moment before you admit, “Ok so it’s the Captain America Fitness Challenge in gym today and I reallllllllllllllly don’t want to do it.”

“I’m sorry, the what now?”

“The Captain America Fitness Challenge. It’s required by the state, but they named it before the Accords happened.” You still don’t fully know what happened, but you haven’t seen Steve since Germany so it can’t have been good. 

“No child of mine is participating-”

“You’re going to school. It’s just a fitness test.” Pepper cuts in. “If however your blood sugar isn’t in range during gym then go to the nurse. But do not do stuff to force it to fall.” She raises an eyebrow at you, knowing that being a child of Tony’s there was a chance you would do whatever it took to get out of it.

“And I’ll see you the day after tomorrow when I get back from India ok kiddo?”

“Why India?”

“People to see, things to do.” Your dad says as he kisses your head. “If it were up to me, there would be no Captain America anything.” He whispers to you and you smile. “Now eat your breakfast while I get you the healthier part of your breakfast.”

“Dad, I don’t have to have a green juice every morning.”

“The green juice is mandatory. The pancakes are optional.” You roll your eyes at your dad. 

“You guys are all invited tonight. My parents are going to be gone, but said we can have some fun. Plus Ned told us during gym that Peter knows Spider-Man from the Stark Internship, so Spider-Man might show up.” You almost choke on the sunbutter and jelly sandwich Pepper made you. 

“I’m sorry, you know Spider-Man from your internship with my dad?” Your eyes fall on Peter.

“Your dad told me not to mention it.”

“So you brought it up during gym class?” 

“Technically Ned did.” Peter says. Looking at your face he sees hints of betrayal and hurt etching your features. But the biggest image is the image of Tony in your features. Tony made him promise not to connect you and Spider-Man. “Y/N-”

“Have fun at the party with Spider-Man.” You throw your food back in your lunch box. “I forgot I need to take care of something.” You push away from the lunch table. So many thoughts are running through your mind. Why would your dad introduce Peter to Spider-Man and not you? He had introduced you to so many of the Avengers before everything went to shit. So why was Spider-Man any different? And now Peter and Spider-Man were good enough friends that he was willing to come to a high school party? You turn the corner to go to the library. You could at least hide there until the end of the lunch period. Now you have to deal with the stupid Captain America Fitness Challenge and this stupid Spider-Man bullshit.

Y: so you introduced peter to spider-man? 

T: Who’s saying I did?

Y: clearly peter. told a whole group of people that his friend spider-man, that he met through his internship with you, would come to a party tonight

Tony runs a hand through his hair. What is Peter doing? The whole point of having a secret identity is not to be telling kids you were going to be showing up at a party. Does he think he’s a show pony now? Because that is the last thing that the Avengers are.

T: So SM is a party trick now?

PP: y/n texted you

T: she seems to be pretty upset that I introduced you to SM before my own kid

PP: i can’t explain everything to her, so it was the easiest explanation.

Your dad clearly isn’t going to respond, so instead you reach out to a number that hasn’t contacted you in nearly two months. But hopefully, she doesn’t let you down.

Y: sos-are you in the city by chance? 

N: You’re not trying to turn me in are you?

Y: i need someone to come rescue me from a really shit day at school.

N: I can be there in 30.

“So you wanna tell me why I’m kidnapping you?” Natasha asks as she walks you out of school after signing you out for the day.

“You’re on my list of people allowed to pick me up from school. So it’s not kidnapping. It’s a recovery mission.” You quote her words from your first few days living with your father. 

“I see I taught you well.” Natasha smiles as you get into the black four door with her. “Where to?”

“Anywhere but here.” You answer honestly. “Where have you been?”

“Here and there. Been hiding for the most part.”

“Hiding from what?”

“People that don’t want me to be running around.”

“Is that why you’re blonde now?”

“One of the reasons. Do you not like it?”

“I like the red better.” You look out the window as she drives towards Manhattan. “Are you with Steve?”

“It’s probably better if I don’t say. Your dad and Steve aren’t on the best feet right now.”

“I could give a rat’s ass about what Daddy Dearest thinks.”

“I thought you and your dad were getting along. Literally all the conversations I had with him before I split off, he couldn’t stop mentioning you.”

“He’s part of the reason I left school today. That and the Captain America Fitness Challenge.”

“You didn’t want to take the Fitness Test?”

“Some of us are just normal humans, remember?”

“So am I.” Natasha turns onto a side street. 

“Yeah, but you’re a trained assassin. You could take and pass the fitness test with ease.”

“What happened with your dad?” Natasha changes the subject without acknowledging what you said about the fitness test.

“It’s stupid.” You cross your arms.

“Not stupid if it upset you.”

“You know the Spider-Man that’s been running around Queens?”

“Yeah.”

“My dad introduced him to his intern but won’t introduce him to me. Apparently his intern has met him enough times that Spider-Man is willing to stop by a party that one of our friends is throwing. And when I tried to talk to my dad about it, he just stopped responding like that would make it better.”

“Did you think that maybe your dad had reasons other than being mean or something like that for why he wouldn’t want you near another superhero?”

“Like what?”

“He feels like he puts you in danger all the time. Another superhero, more danger. That was the whole point of the Accords was keeping us in check. Keeping the normal,” She motions towards you, “people safe. So maybe he was hesitant to bring yet another superhero into your life, especially after a huge group of us superheroes went rogue on him. He loves you. He would literally do anything for you.”

“He wouldn’t let me skip the fitness challenge this morning.”

“He wasn’t going to let you skip school. To be honest maybe I shouldn’t have let you either, but I miss you.” 

“I miss you too Aunt Nat.” The words slip from your mouth before you can stop them. “You should come home.”

“I can’t until the Accords get sorted out. I’m considered a criminal right now.”

“Can we go to the compound? Just hang out there.”

“Your father will have a heart attack if you’re not home in two hours which is how long it will take to drive there.”

“I think he’s supposed to be leaving for an event out of town. A wedding or some other event out of the country. I just have to text Happy that I don’t need a ride.”

“Get the approval that I don’t have to take you home in the next couple hours and we can go hang out at the compound.” You can’t help but smile as you text Happy, saying that you are going to Betty’s house after school and a party at Liz’s that night so you won’t be home until the next day. He offers to pick you up, but you say you’ll be fine getting a ride home. “We’re all good.”

“And Tony won’t be at the compound right?”

“He’s heading to India for a wedding or a corporate event of some kind.”

“Then it looks like a girls night at the compound is what we’re going to do.” Natasha turns to leave the city and you feel your heart getting a little lighter.

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[myhauntedsalem]

Kingsley Plantation Jacksonville, Florida

Kingsley Plantation, which dates to 1797, features Florida’s oldest standing slave plantation house, 23 slave residences, and associated buildings amid a pristine wetland on Fort George Island. From 1814 to 1837, it was run by the South’s most atypical slaveholders: Zephaniah Kingsley and his wife Anna Madgigine Jai, an enslaved Wolof teen he married and later freed. Their family included three other African wives and nine mixed-race children.

The Kingsleys were deeply invested in the Spanish system of slavery, which provided certain rights for free blacks as well as to the enslaved. After Florida became a U.S. territory in 1822, Kingsley lobbied against the new government’s increasingly restrictive laws governing both slavery and the position of free blacks, including his family. When these efforts failed, most of the Kingsley family moved to Haiti starting in 1835. Kingsley sold the Fort George Island plantation to his nephew Kingsley B. Gibbs 1839. Gibbs sold it in 1868 to the Rollins family, who held it until selling it to the Fort George Club in 1923. The state of Florida purchased the property in 1955 for use as a state park. The National Park Service took over in 1991 and the plantation became part of the Timucuan Ecological and Historic Preserve.

Like many other historic sites, Kingsley Plantation has accrued a considerable body of folklore. Legends that Kingsley Plantation is haunted spread just after it became a park, the site’s historic architecture and sublime surroundings encouraging ghost stories. In particular, dark, tree-lined Palmetto Avenue has long been a popular nighttime driving route, and in the 1950s was a well known local makeout spot, all but ensuring that scary stories will be told, retold, and remembered.

Additionally, the plantation’s status as a national park gives it a core of dedicated caretakers who foster its lore and pass it on to visitors. Park ranger Emily Palmer is one of those custodians. She regularly talks to guests about the supposed ghosts, even if she thinks the tales can mostly be debunked. For her, it’s a chance to help people connect with the space and its actual history. “Our big effort here is to protect this history and what is for so many people a spiritual site, and a connection with their ancestors,” said Palmer. “It’s so important to treat that with respect.”

Easily the most famous of the plantation ghosts is “Old Red Eyes,” said to appear as a pair of red, glowing eyes in the woods. According to researcher Alan Brown, the apparition has been spotted since 1978. One sighting frequently repeated in books on ghost lore was by a local woman named Tes Rais in 1993, and reports have come regularly ever since.

The story goes that Red Eyes was a slave who raped and murdered girls on the island. Sometimes his victims are claimed to have been the planter’s daughters, but far more commonly, they are said to have come from the enslaved population. According to this version, the other slaves discovered the crime and lynched Red Eyes from an oak tree beside the roadway. Thereafter, the villain remained to haunt the place as a malevolent spirit, stalking visitors from the trees.

No historical evidence supports the Red Eyes story. Accounts have a number of elements in common with other Southern ghost stories or haint tales associated with historic sites. Glowing eyes are fairly common attributes of ghosts, and the name “Old Red Eyes” is recorded as a folkloric nickname for the devil in South Carolina. Palmer believes there may be a more mundane explanation for the sightings. “Interestingly enough, along Palmetto Avenue we do have something hanging from the trees that would reflect bright red eyes if a brake light was shining in them,” she said. “They’re called possums. I believe that people have probably seen something of that sort… but I think it may have been a more natural explanation than what people are looking for.”

Another addition to the Red Eyes story circulating when I was young indicated that the ghost could be summoned by chanting his name three times. This variation of the “Bloody Mary” legend is clearly inspired by the 1992 film Candyman, in which a menacing ghost, in life the son of former slaves and a victim of lynching, is conjured similarly.

The depiction of Red Eyes’ crimes relies on some especially nasty old tropes. It hews very closely to the sensational and frequently implausible stories that early 20th century mobs used to rationalize lynching. Lynching was less about the particular victim than it was about stoking fear and shock among African Americans generally. Palmer notes that while lynching was not common in the plantation era, Jacksonville was no stranger to this type of violence in the period of Jim Crow. Seven lynchings are known to have occurred in Duval County between 1909 and 1924. “It was not a phenomenon of the plantation time period, but it’s definitely a legacy of that history,” she said. Unusual most popular version portrays Red Eyes’ deeds as crimes against and avenged by other slaves. This detail may reflect the idiosyncratic social dynamic of the Kingsley days, a legacy the park’s staff fastidiously memorialize.

[theparanormalperiodical]

9 REAL Curses That You Gotta Know About - Even If You’re Not Exploring An Ancient Egyptian Tomb This Weekend

It’s the 17th February 1923.

We are somewhere in Cairo, staving off the heat of an Egyptian Autumn.

We’re waiting. We’ve been waiting since 1915.

In a silent, swift moment the seal to Tutankhamun’s tomb is broken, and one of the most valuable pieces of history is finally passed to the hands of the historians.

But it wasn’t just the secrets of the past that were unleashed when the seal was broken.

Within 12 years, 8 of the explorers that accessed the tomb were dead. By taking their first steps into this place of rest they had unknowingly released what was to be known as the Curse of the Pharaohs.

Ever since the 19th century British explorers first disturbed the pharaohs, a legend gained ground that claimed anyone who disturbed an Ancient Eypgtian mummy was to experience serious misfortune, illness, or even death.

And ever since they returned home with their spoils of the treasure was this claim proven correct, especially with the supposed curses detailed within the once hidden tombs themselves.

EDIT: Obviously this curse is founded more on the British media sensationalising exoticism, a common tactic of Imperialists in their racist agenda, so be far more wary of that than any old legend.

But what exactly was this curse? And were there any other curses that we should be aware of before we break into any other uncharted tombs?

What Exactly Is A Curse?

It’s founded some of our favourite urban legends and it is still used to stereotype certain communities - but it turns out that they’ve had this reputation for centuries.

In official terms, a curse is a wish that imposes adversity on a person or group of people, an object, or a place. Specifically, it is related to wishes made effective by supernatural circumstances, whether they’re enforced by spirits, or conjured via magic.

Regional divergences also exist, with jinxes belonging to African American Hoodoo, and hexing being a resident of Germany.

Convinced you’ve been cursed?

You have two options if you want to break the spell. One, you can either perform elaborate rituals specific to said-curse, or two, you can pray, like, a lot.

How helpful.

Not sure how you got cursed?

You’ve most likely encountered one of three things:

There’s the cursed objects - if you’ve been rooting through forbidden tombs or looted from a sanctuary, you might’ve brought a curse home, too. This curse typically amounts to bad luck, or the manifestation of strange phenomena.

Then there’s the curses from Ancient Egypt which are often associated with those that disturb mummies in their eternal slumber. The 19th century exploration of Pharaoh’s tombs revived this concept, and would allow the proliferation of our pop culture curses.

And then there's the Biblical curses. They don’t pause for breathe when cursing each other in the Bible, but thanks to my year 8 Religious Studies, I can tell you that at some point snakes and/or Cain was cursed.

(I’m sure Ms Comber would be ashamed knowing I can just about provide a tl;dr of the first few chapters of the Old Testament before the big plot twist.)

What Are The Most Famous Curses To Date?

#1 - The Curse of Tippecanoe

Our scene is set in 1931.

The brains behind Ripley’s Believe It Or Not - the bestselling publishers of unusual and slightly unnecessary facts - might not have much to report in the pre-internet age, but they were the first to note a rather peculiar trend:

American Presidents elected in a year ending in zero were to die whilst in office. This was later adapted to new, uh, data, which suggested years divisible by 20 (e.g. 1920, 1940, etc.) actually followed this trend.

And beyond the publishing date of this thesis in the early 20th century, this theory had been proven correct.

Think of an iconic president. You know, the ones that have changed history and haven’t suggested one consume bleach like shots of tequila on a two-night bender in ‘biza.

They’ve probably been a victim to this curse.

Lincoln. Mckinley. Roosevelt. Kennedy. Even Reagan and Bush followed the trend, but survived their own assassination attempts.

Question is, where does this curse supposedly come from?

William Harrison was killed only a month after being sworn into office. Elected in 1840, he waged war against a Native American tribe over problems concerning land ownership. Also known as Tecumseh’s War, this was a battle over an attempt to regain land against the American government, and it culminated in the Battle of Tippecanoe.

Harrison won this battle, and ‘Tippacanoe’ became a favoured nickname of the president.

However, shortly after the battle, one of the men at the fore of the Native American side cursed Harrison. We might not know the exact terms of this curse, nor if he wanted such a timely effect to take place, but with an election on the cards this year this thesis is due to be tested.

#2 - The Kennedy Curse

Kennedy might’ve already fallen victim to the curse of Tippacanoe, but it turns out that wasn’t quite enough. The thing is, this curse doesn’t necessarily affect just JFK. It affected everyone around him.

The Kennedy Curse allegedly prompted the deaths, accidents, and variety of other problems that have haunted the Kennedy family since before JFK even took office.

Due to the fact that some recent tragedies has supposedly been related to this curse, I’m going to refrain from coughing up each incident, but here’s a few to convince you:

Joseph Kennedy was the first victim in 1944, and died in a plane crash over Suffolk, England.

Kathleen Kennedy met a similar fate in 1948 after a plane crash.

Robert F Kennedy was killed on the night of his Senate victory in 1968.

David Kennedy died of a drug overdose in 1984.

Michael Kennedy died in a skiing accident in 1997.

John F Kennedy died in a plane crash in 1999.

Rosemary Kennedy had a lobotomy and was mentally incapacitated for the rest of her life until her death in 2005.

#3 - The 27 Club

The passing of young people is a tragedy we can’t quite wrap our heads around. Heck, belief in the supernatural is partially founded on how we can’t quite comprehend just losing someone, and that just being it.

Finality is an impossible concept to grasp.

And it’s why we turn to things like curses to explain away our pain and to make sense of it all. The 27 Club is a prime example of this.

A remarkable amount of the most famous musicians, artists, and actors to date have all died at the age of 27.

Like, over 50.

Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, Amy Winehouse, Kurt Cobain, and Jim Morrison are just a few of the figures that represent the phenomenon, a phenomenon which has been referenced countless times in popular culture.

Some researchers may have disproven the alleged curse, but with the 4 founding members dying within a 2 year window (Brian Jones, Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, and Jim Morrison), suspicions will always be roused.

#4 - The Curse of the Iceman

Popular culture phenomenons might form some of the most famous curses to date, but they really started with ancient legends. And this one is one of the most well-known claims of the awakening of a long-dormant curse.

Oetzi was found somewhere in the Alps in 1991.

No, this isn’t the name of some lovable character destined to have his own Netflix series; this is a corpse preserved by the icy temperatures of the mountain range in Italy. And this corpse is from 3100 or 3400 BC, or the Copper Age.

Given the value of this shocking discovery, numerous scientists took the fore in their investigation into Oetzi. But many of these scientists also died as a result of the supposed curse put on those that dare disturb Europe’s oldest natural mummy.

7 scientists that collaborated in the removal and examination of the corpse died in a suspiciously short window of time.

#5 - The Curse of Timur

Some of the world’s most famous curses have affected small groups of people. But this curse was a tad more far reaching.

Like 7.5-million-people-far-reaching.

Emperor Timur was a Turco-Mongol leader from the 14th century and established a highly impressive empire: the Timurid Empire. And this empire was so impressive that Stalin himself took direct inspiration from him.

That’s why he wanted the body of the emperor exhumed from his Uzbekistan tomb for investigation by Soviet anthropologists.

(There’s no explanation why, but the Soviet Union did many things we can’t explain.)

Locals protested, fearing a curse that reportedly started in 1740 when an Afsharid ruler took a slab from his final resting place to Persia. His son instantly fell ill amongst a host of other problems affecting his rule, prompting his advisors to convince him to return the slab of jade back to the tomb.

If the rumours weren’t enough to convince them not to break into the tomb, you’d think the warnings on there would do the trick:

"When I rise from the dead, the world shall tremble."

"Whomsoever opens my tomb shall unleash an invader more terrible than I."

Three days after the exhumation began, Hitler launched an operation that would figure as the largest military invasion on the Soviet Union to date.

#6 - The Superman Curse

Numerous films have been labelled with an alleged curse or a haunting. The Exorcist might be the most famous example of this - you know, with that severe fire burning down the set at one point - but a more specific curse can be attributed to those who played the lead in the Superman franchise.

George Reeves committed suicide in 1959.

Christopher Reeve became paralysed in 1985.

Lee Quigley died at 14 due to solvent abuse.

Kirk Alyn’s career met a dead end after his role.

Marlon Brando experienced a series of unfortunate events after his role.

Margot Kidder encountered serious issues with her mental health after her role.

Even the crew operating on the films experienced similar issues both on-set and in their personal lives.

#7 - The Hope Diamond Curse

It’s the most famous jewel in the world, weighing no less than 45 carats and passing between the hands of French kings and British bankers alike - but it’s value is far more supernatural than the $350m price tag.

It is said that a curse is attached to it, a curse that brings misfortune and accompanying tragedy to those that own or wear the gem.

Suicides, murders, executions (most of which were hangings), being ripped apart by wild dogs and various other mobs… Just wear the earrings next time.

Today it is on exhibit at the National Museum of Natural History in the US.

#8 - The Curse Of The Chicago Cubs

Bill Sianis lived an interesting life.

A Greek immigrant to the USA, he owned a tavern in Chicago affectionately named the Billy Goat Tavern. And it was this peculiar name that led to the curse that until recently haunted the Chicago Cubs.

Sianis took his pet goat to one of the games in 1945, a game that was a part of the World Series. But due to the odour of Murphy the Goat, he was asked to leave for the sake of the other fans.

“Them Cubs, they ain’t gonna win no more”

He declared this shortly after discovering that he would in fact have to leave.

This curse lasted 71 years, and mysteriously ended in 2016 after numerous attempts by fans to utilise rituals  - mostly involving goats which may or may not be alive - to release the team from their magical confines.

Numerous goats have been brought to games with declarations claiming to reverse the curse being used, and even Sianis’ family members have done their bit in attempt to lift it. Yet despite these attempts - and that severed goat’s head sent personally to the owner in 2013 - some good has come from the curse.

Many charitable efforts have sprung forth from this legend, such as Reverse The Curse donating goats to those living in poverty in Third World countries.

#9 - The Curse of Turan

Now this is an interesting one.

Allegedly, the whole population of Hungary has been under a curse for many centuries, a curse that has two potential origins:

The first took place during the Christian conversion of the country in 1000 AD, from which those supporting the old religions of Hungary (Paganism and a mix of other minority religions) cast a curse that would affect Hungary for evermore…

(More… More… Mo...)

Or 1000 years, suggesting the curse might have been lifted already.

Alternatively, it could be a curse created or rumoured to exist during the failed revolution of 1848 which evoked a great sense of pessimism that is a reported symptom of the curse.

Although the previous curses mentioned in this article have a striking number of coincidences one can’t help be interested in, this one is a little, well, vague.

Sure, Hungary - like most countries - has experienced a number of tragedies over the last 1000 years, from the devastating impact of war and invasion, to foreign control, but how far can we pin suffering caused by imperialism on that of a curse?

The high suicide rate which ranks as 6th in the world might not point to a supernatural cause, but the rather darker reality of depression.

(Yeah, I agree, I should’ve finished this article on a cheerier note.)

Well thank god that’s over!

Want to read stuff that’s less depressing and more delightfully spooky? ‘Course you do. Then go check out my other articles about all things horror and hauntings.

I even post a new real ghost story everyday.

Stay spooky!

[epicstuckyficrecs]

Weekly recap | July 29th-August 4th

Here’s what I read in the last week! 💙 

You can find my other Weekly Recaps here!

~

Complete

This Has Already Happened by Mollyamory (Molly), Speranza/ @cesperanza (canon divergence | 8K | Not rated): "There are absolutely no circumstances in which I give the Time Stone to you," the Wizard gasps. "None. Nada. Zip. Choke on that, you sonofabitch."

Not Broken, Just Bent by amethystkrystal/ @amethystkrystal, goodmanperfectsoldier (ABO AU | 3K | Teen): Steve teaches a prenatal yoga class, and though he has a soft spot for all his students, he can't help being especially drawn to Bucky Barnes, the soft-spoken — and unmated — omega who just joined the studio.

💙 Ill With Want by thedoubteriswise/ @thedoubteriswise (Pre-war | 27K | Mature): Bucky pretends to be asleep when Steve crawls into bed, too tired to feel guilty over the quivery pleasure that settles in his belly when Steve’s arm brushes his. Bucky doesn’t move him. He drifts to sleep in a comfortable haze and tries not to wonder where this feeling was two hours ago when he had Marie in his lap.

💙 you are the future (series) by greyhavensking/ @greyhavensking (canon divergent, post-Avengers | 6 works, series marked not complete | 33K | Teen): Sweat trickles down from his hairline into his eyes and he irritably swipes it away, a little convinced that the gesture will also serve to wipe away what he’s seeing. But no, that’s definitely a man -- at least judging by the breadth of his shoulders and general body shape -- single-handedly facing off against a trio of enraged aliens.

It's possible that he wants you too by belovedmuerto/ @belovedmuerto (Post-WS | 4K | Teen): “Bucky kissed me this morning,” Steve says, not quite believing the words even as they’re coming out of his mouth. “Wait,” Sam replies. “Back up.”

14-Inch Cock and a Few Hundred Bimbos by verzacefatale/ @verzacefatale (PWP | 3K | Explicit): There are some things in life, Steve muses as he stares down at his crotch, that nothing can prepare you for. Sure, becoming a super soldier was, at the time, the most wild thing he could think of, and sure, his tolerance for ridiculous, catastrophic and immeasurably weird situations has very much grown since then, but this? His dick suddenly growing six inches in length and another two in girth, just because he opened a box in a Hydra dug out that maybe he should have read the instructions on before he did? How was he to know it was literally magic that would make his cock grow huge? 

Hic sunt dracones by stevergrsno (noxlunate)/ @stevergrsno (Medieval Fantasy, Dragon Steve | 5K | Teen): There are stories: Stories of knights and the dragons they slayed. Stories of princes who conquered the great fire-breathing beasts terrorizing their kingdoms. Stories of how they saved their lands and won the hand of fair princesses in battle. This is not one of those stories. At least not in the strictest sense.

To Eat from the Tree by AidaRonan (30′s AU | 6K | Explicit): There is a story they tell in Collinwood, NY. A story of two priests-in-training who fell off the path of righteousness and into each other.

💙 As long as I have a face, you'll always have somewhere to sit by Avaaricious (Modern AU, meet-cute | 5K | Mature): AKA the "My friends bet that I couldn't pick up someone using the worst lines I know, but I actually like you and don't want to screw up" AU

Proud by dixons_mama (TFA | 2K | Teen): While trapped in Azzano, Bucky accidentally confesses to Steve that he loves him. Bucky is sure this will be the end of their friendship.

WIP

Solitary by exclamation/ @jessicameats (Canon divergent | 35/? | 87K | Mature): The Winter Soldier has been a prisoner of SHIELD for about a year and a half, placed in solitary confinement under strict security when it was clear he wasn’t going to respond to the best interrogators and deprogrammers SHIELD had available. When Fury asks a newly awakened Steve Rogers to assist, Steve is hesitant. He doesn’t understand why Fury thinks he would have a better chance of getting through to this guy than all the people who have tried and failed.

💙 This Side of the Blue by notlucy/ @notlucy (Mermaid AU | 23/44 | 83K | Explicit): Tucked against a set of crumbling, stone steps was a tank made of metal and glass, filled to the brim with greenish water, distorted sunlight filtering through and casting strange shadows. Playing tricks on the eye. A trick was the only explanation for what Steve saw floating there. This figment of his childhood. This myth. This legend. Within the tank, the siren bared its teeth.

💙 Latte Art and Slow Dancing in the Dark by deadonarrival (Modern AU with powers, Daddy kink | 15/20 | 77K | Explicit): Bucky is a somewhat well-adjusted former army sniper that got his shoulder blown out. He took his discharge and went home to finish school and is working on his international relations masters. His best friends and roommates (Nat & Clint) are CIA agents and tip him off that their local Sbux is hiring. He gets a job there and meets none other than the hottest guy on earth. So how does one get a date in the most top secret government location in the US? What happens when that guy is more than just a hot dorito and wants to give Bucky everything he wants? Bucky is going to have to figure out his shit and fast. 

💙 Like Real People Do by 2bestfriends (Shrunkyclunks, canon divergent post-Avengers | 31K | 5/10 | Explicit): Seven years into an isolated retirement after the Battle of New York, Steve has carved out a place for himself in the foothills of the Catskill Mountains. He has a best friend (his dog, Lady), a frenemy (a local black bear named Rufus), and a cabin in the middle of the woods, an hour’s drive from the nearest town. As November comes to a close, he heads into town to pick up supplies and ends up with a stowaway.

💙 Cakes & Balances by mambo/ @whtaft (POTUS Steve | 14K | 7/? | Teen): It’s kind of hard to date the cute baker from down the street when you’re the President of the United States of America. But Steve Rogers will make it work.

Bucky Barnes and the Embarrassment of Spidermen by AggressiveWhenStartled (Multiverse, Peter-centric(ish) | 4/5 | 15K | Mature): “Peter,” Steve said into the table. “Please tell me you didn’t bring home someone from Tony’s alternate dimension.” “Of course I didn’t,” Peter said, looking indignant. “I wouldn’t do that. I brought him to your place.”

Re-read

💙 All's fair in [REDACTED] and [REDACTED] (series) by redcigar (canon-divergent, post-WS | 3 works, series marked not complete | 10K | Mature): AU wherein Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers never met, Steve somehow manages to rescue the Winter Soldier anyway, and Avengers Tower ends up with the world’s angriest duckling and a whole new brand of entertainment.

💙 honey don't feed it, it will come back by ellebeesknees (umetnica), thedoubteriswise/ @thedoubteriswise (canon compliant, TFA | 18K | Mature): He lets out a long sigh and watches Bucky. Back home he was always too vain to let more than a day’s worth of stubble build up, but now he’s got about three days of scruff on his chin. He shouldn’t look handsome like this. His eyes are shut, but Steve can tell by his breathing that he’s still awake. The cat is curled up on his stomach and purring like an idling motor.

Learning To Say Hello by heartsdesire456/ @heartsdesire456 (Post-WS, Clint POV | 11K | Mature): In which Hawkeye befriends the Winter Soldier and discovers the Epic Love Story of Steve and Bucky nobody knows about)

Howl Home (Shift for Me) by Menatiera/ @menatiera (canon divergent, wolf Steve, Bucky Cap | 13K | Teen): As Captain America, Bucky Barnes rescued a hyper-intelligent wolf from HYDRA during the war. He makes a good fit with the Howling Commandos - and later, with the Avengers.

💙 The Sweetest Spark by deadto27 (Modern AU, age difference | 73K | Explicit): Steve Rogers runs a successful business. He has great friends and a great life. It seems like he has it all. So why is he sitting in a diner on a Friday night alone? Maybe he's just a little lonely. Maybe Bucky Barnes can help with that.

[iamtrashhenceiamhere]

Ghosts live on

It was a common enough legend; every small town had their own and Helsingør was no different. The foreboding abandoned castle didn’t help much either, but it was something for the occasional tourist to take pictures of. The children were told the story as bedtime stories and then in school in the form of Shakespeare. He may have called them a fictional city, but the name “Elsinore” stuck around like a loving nickname for the locals.

No one lived in the castle anymore. Out of respect and fear of what happened to the family of seven who lived there once. The Hansens. A good rich family who moved out when their youngest daughter of ten years nearly died in the forest at the outer parts of the small town. The castle now stands desolate, empty of all except the remnants of that family and the ivy that quickly took over and claimed it. They had an old caretaker whose job was to handle the children but he was let go before they all left when his bad hearing nearly cost the life of the youngest. He still lived near the castle gates and no one had the heart to make him clear off. After all, he only wanted company and the occasional conversation.

This whole incident didn’t help the case for the stories. Of course, the townspeople dismissed the whole “legend” as a simple story meant to keep children from wandering too far from home. The poor family was only an unfortunate coincidence. But everyone had a little fear in their heart

It was a beautiful small forest and a popular place, but you could never spend too long in it. It wasn’t safe was all the explanation people could provide when asked. How could they explain the off- feeling they felt when they went deep in? The urge to just remain in there, walking amongst the woods and trees going off the familiar path and follow the array of flowers that littered the place. people swore these plants seemed to be in bloom even in the harshest of winter. Bright dots of pansies, rue and daisies almost buried under decaying leaves and snow, but sure enough still there.

There was a stream that ran through the forest and led to a pond which looked almost like a picture. Reeds on the sides, little fishes and frogs shining near the surface in the light. It seemed other worldly. There was a large tree fallen tree across the stream near the mouth of the pool. It was almost like a gate keeper, covered in moss, ferns and multiple little critters crawling over the rotting holes created by time. The pond was a lovely place especially during summer but of course, no one stayed there for long. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t see the bottom of the pond. the water was clear but almost a never ending dark blue in the centre. It was safer to just not swim in it. There were stories of dead bodies being thrown in by murderers who will never be caught, people falling in, never to be seen again. Only stories they tried to reassure themselves, but it only strengthened the fear when the youngest Hansen almost drowned in the connected stream.

She lost balance walking across the fallen tree and fell on the stream side. The caretaker was with her and when she didn’t surface, he quickly went after her after. He’d searched frantically for her and found her floating unconscious lightly underwater a little way down. He quickly brought her up.

She recovered of course, but many say she had a chance only because she hadn’t fallen into the pond itself.

There was a family who lived in the castle. They weren’t royal, but Shakespeare took some artistic liberty. The tale of a nephew killing his treacherous uncle to avenge his father, the six haunting deaths in the castle were almost traditional. Almost each province had their own haunted mansion of unusual deaths. But the part of the legend that scared the town most was the fate of Ophelia.

A young woman, still a girl even, driven mad by the unlawful death of her controlling father by the hands of the man who used her like a throw-away doll. Her brother, who, like everyone else, could not look past the simple pretty face put on for the public and see the light of intelligent and awareness.

Ophelia went to the same forest, picking flowers and singing to herself and the trees around her. The trees who didn’t care who she was, didn’t judge or remind her of the rules she must follow to be a proper lady in her short stifling life. They just listened and silently appreciated. They didn’t care for her mad dances, her occasional screams between verses when she saw see the body of her father laid out flashing, the phantom blood still warm against her unstained hands. Her mind quickly pushed it out and she focused on the flowers, still singing to the trees.

There's rosemary, that's for remembrance; pray,

love, remember: and there is pansies. that's for thoughts.

There's fennel for you, and columbines: there's rue

for you; and here's some for me: we may call it

herb-grace o' Sundays: O you must wear your rue with

a difference. There's a daisy: I would give you

some violets, but they withered all when my father died…

She sang on and on, stepping daintily on the fallen tree and dancing atop it. Little jumps, turns and small twirls. The damp moss and slick wooden bark making slips almost inevitable, yet she danced on, for once in her restrained life, careless of any consequence. Falling wasn’t even a fear anymore, after all how could she fall when she felt so light? So, when the final slip did happen, she didn’t feel like she was falling. Ophelia was floating. She was free in the water, the coolness of it finally calming her. The clear water looked even clearer around her. Small fish tickling her hands and face as they swam around her. She felt peaceful. But she’d lost her flowers. Well that wasn’t good, she’d worked so hard to collect them! She looked frantically and saw they all were up at the surface, floating as free as she was. She could almost grab them.

Ophelia tried to reach for them, but her heavy dress felt heavier, water soaked up entirely. Now she felt the fall, the heavy drag pulling her and keeping her down. Ophelia tried to push herself back up, from the bottom of the pond. It was a lot deeper than it looked.

She looked around, the then clear water, now quickly growing murky by all the mud she was kicking up. The fish were gone, had enough of their home being disrupted by this outsider. She was alone and she couldn’t see. She tried to kick herself up again, the cool water now did nothing to chill the intense burn in her lungs. Her legs were entangled by hornworts, hardy pond plants that didn’t let go easily. Her large dress floated around her, restricting movement even further. Pulling whatever she could grasp, it eventually became too much effort, and she gasped for air. Instead muddy water flowed through. She was losing conscious quickly, she had to get her flowers, Laertes was waiting for her, she’d picked rosemary especially for him. and Hamlet, oh Hamlet would never receive her rues, they were such lovely ones. He would have loved it…

Ophelia’s body was found by the servants who went searching for her. Large torn pieces of dress fabric were floating alongside a bundle of wild flowers. But when they dove to retrieve her body, the pond bed seemed almost unreachable, going deeper and deeper still. Eventually they had to return with only the remains they found afloat.

There was a family that lived in the castle. But the story of revenge, murder and madness was all part of legend. No one knows really how they all died but it was so long ago. Fear is the hardest thing to kill though and it is said to never go into the forest on the anniversary of Ophelia’s death. They say she still haunted the pond, hoping to drag other souls along with her for company.

Little Clara Hansen was asked by other curious kids as to what happened to her. Most of them weren’t allowed to go into the forest on their own. Their parents explained it was only for rational safety reasons, “You could fall off a tree! Who’d help you if you break your leg in there?”, “Strangers could steal you away.” And the most common one, “You could fall down a hole and we’d never find you.” All ridiculous, the kids declared. Of course, the real reason was because Ophelia wouldn’t let you leave! They all knew the end of the story. If she saw any kids wandering in the forest, she’d keep them with her forever! Ophelia loved to have little children to dance and play with all day and night.

Clara said she didn’t have any particular urge to dance around or sing with anyone in the forest. She didn’t even see any ghosts. Just some walkers on the path and her caretaker alongside her to make sure she doesn’t get lost. Of course, they went off the path when she saw some lovely columbines and wanted to pick some for her father.

The caretaker followed her, listening to her talk about all the different types of plants she’d learnt at school.

“By the way, did you know that bamboo is the fastest growing wood in the world? I can’t remember the number, but it grows loads in a day!” she interrupted to boast of one of the facts she’d learnt.

The kids marvelled for a moment, exchanging further plant facts they had learnt before pushing her to continue.

Clara had reached a small pond area and exclaimed in delight at all the little fishes that swam in the clear blue water and reached to cup one into her hands. She leaned forward and as her hands touched the water, almost all the fishes swam away frantically. She tried to at least catch one but it was almost as if someone had grabbed hold of her and was pulling her gently. She could see her face fully now and it looked…weird. Different. She looked older…? Her hair was a lot longer. It was also black and curly but maybe that was just the water and light being weird. Maybe it had grown, and she just hadn’t noticed. Oh, she could do cool hairstyles now like her older sister Nora did!

Suddenly she was grabbed from behind and pulled back. Completely startled, water went flying from her hands right into caretaker’s face.

“Please be more careful there! You almost fell in!” he said.

She walked around the place as he set up a small blanket for them to sit on when she’d get tired. Clara didn’t go too close to the pond again, but explored the different plants growing. By the end she’d managed to pick many flowers and long leaves to take home as a trophy. The sun was now overhead and a warm stillness set in the area. The caretaker decided to lay down for a while and soon fell asleep on the blanket. Clara had relaxed before, sitting and talking to him. she was all keyed up now to just…do something! Anything was better than just sitting and sleeping around!

Clara spotted the fallen tree laying across the stream. The caretaker had said not to go on it because it wasn’t safe. Something about rotting wood and instability. But she wasn’t that heavy, surely the wood could take her. She imagined the pretty pictures she’d seen where girls in nice dresses swished their feet on water, sitting on moss and mushroom covered trees trunks. They looked like fairies. The water was so cool as well when she’d reached in before. Clara looked back at him. Light snores indicated he was truly asleep and not faking it. Just five minutes and then she’d come back, he wouldn’t even have to know.

She quickly went up the wood and looked at the stream. She could see the bottom, light sand glistened like sea glass. Small water plants danced around. It would just about come up to her chest, she decided and stepped up on the wood.

It had rained the day before, so it was a little damper than she expected but it was so smooth! Having kicked her shoes off before, it felt so weird feeling the moss snaking around her toes, tickling her. Clara grinned and walked until she’d reached the centre and sat down, facing the pond. It looked a lot bigger from here.

“Hello there.” A voice called. Clara turned her head sharply, startled to see there was a woman in the pond, swimming around. She had such lovely thick hair, like the reflection she’d seen before and a kind smile.

“Would you like to swim with me? The water is lovely and cool.”

Clara hesitated. Of course, Nora had told her not to be alone with strangers. She looked back at the caretaker, still fast asleep. She technically wasn’t alone.

“Sorry but I’m not supposed to go into the pond.” She hoped the woman wouldn’t leave because of her. She seemed nice.

The lady laughed and swam up to her. She was able to walk as soon as she reached the shallow ends and sat next to her on the wood. “Alright then, I’ll just join you then.” She looked even prettier but…

“why are you wearing a dress?” Clara asked. It was a beautiful dress even soaking wet and dripped water making the tree trunk even damper. But it wasn’t good for swimming.

The woman shrugged. “I was just walking around and saw the pond. Thought it was good enough for a dip. No one else really swims in here anymore so I suppose its like my personal pool.” She grinned. “Hey, if you want, it can our little pool! Our special pond.”

Clara beamed. A pond! She pictured coming here every afternoon now, sitting and talking with this lady, collecting flowers and maybe even berries in summer! It sounded wonderful, except… “what about Nero?”

The woman snapped up. “who?” she seemed panicked, worried almost. Clara pointed at her caretaker.

“Nero. He takes care of us while Mor and Far go off for business.” Now eager to show off her knowledge, “did you know Nero is a Latin name and it means timekeeper? Its so weird but makes sense I guess cause he’s always looking after us but he’s super strict about time ‘cause we need to go to bed at ten maximum.”

The woman relaxed a little, staring at him sleeping. “I had a friend like that. You know, his name also meant timekeeper. He was a good guy.”

They chatted a little longer about the meaning of names and Clara’s family.

“So you have an older brother? How does he treat you?”

“well, he’s kinda mean ‘cause he hides my toys but then I tell his friends embarrassing things about him and he always turns so red its funny!”

The woman was a quiet for a while. She smiled again, a little sad. “It’s strange, I had a brother too. He was always picking on me, but I knew he loved me. I loved him too. Maybe if things were different.”

“What do you mean?”

She smiled, “It doesn’t matter anymore. Anyway, I’m gonna go back in. You’re welcome to join whenever you wish.” With that she stood up and dived back in. Clara immediately stood up as well and looked for her. It was almost as if she had vanished.

Somehow Nero was still asleep. Poor guy must’ve been tired. Besides a little dip in wouldn’t be too bad right? It wasn’t like she was alone anymore…

The lady suddenly emerged up, splashing water joyfully. Startled, Clara gave a shout and fell backwards into the stream. The cold shocked her for a brief moment she could do nothing but stay still. She could hear distant voices. Squeezing her eyes, she tried to kick herself up. The water wasn’t that deep last she checked, and she did have two swimming lessons. So why was she having such a hard time getting back to the surface? Frantic now, she tried to swim back up but her feet seemed trapped by something.

The plants had wrapped themselves around her. they seemed to be growing and soon were folded around her arms and torso. Clara tried to tear them off but no matter how she tried, they kept growing. Why were there so many, she didn’t see this much before. Clara looked up. The surface looked so far off… where was that log?

The woman appeared in front of her. Relief filled her as Clara reached for her, expecting her to help her untangle this mess. But she just stared. She seemed different…her pretty dress was torn now in places and floated around her. Her skin seemed a pale blue-greenish colour. Her lovely hair diminished in wild knots and plants tangled up in it. she looked…menacing. It almost looked like there were even some holes in her face. Clara restrained from screaming at the sight.

Maybe this was all because she was underwater. An illusion. How long has she been under? She kept pulling plants off her. Where was Nero? He must’ve heard her fall. He’ll get her.

Suddenly the lady appeared beside her. She had a blank face and stared at Clara. Almost as if observing her as she struggled.

Nero awoke with a startle as soon as he heard a loud shout and a splash. He rose to see ripples in the stream which almost stilled immediately. He stared for a second before seeing air bubbles rising.

Shit.

“CLARA!”

Blood was now pounding in her ears and all she could hear was her own heart-beat going insane. Her chest was burning. She’d stopped kicking, her body growing tired from staying upright. She was slowly losing conscious.

No no nonononononononono this can’t be happening. She can’t die yet, not like this! She still had school to go to, her best friend was waiting for her, her brothers and sisters, oh God, her parents, they’d be so angry at Nero even though none of this is even his fault! He’ll be fired and then no one would play games with Andy or listen to Emily when she’s upset, and…and…

The woman has a strange expression, almost guilty. She leaned close to her face, gently cupping her cheek and finally gave a gentle kiss on her forehead. Her lips felt cold and slimy and Clara’s eyes closed as the woman went under.

She sat up coughing up water and looked around. She was sitting on soft grass, the sun still shining as she shielded her eyes. Nero was right there beside her, patting her back to help any remaining water come up. Clara lunged at him, wrapping her arms around him and burying her damp face in his shoulder. They sat there as she loudly cried the rest of the water out for around fifteen minutes. He quietly picked her up when she had calmed down to sniffles.

“How about we start to head back now?”

After she nodded vigorously, they began walking back home. Clara dared to look back at the pond again and she could see the woman, standing in the water, watching them leave. She never looked again. And she never went back to the forest.

Of course, a quick explanation was given about the drenched clothes. But she didn’t mention the woman. Clara didn’t know why but she felt if she did, it would… be worse. Make it real. Better to just say she fell in for a brief while until Nero got her out.

Of course, a few weeks later, she told the other kids in the town what really happened. They were the only ones who believed her when she said she thought it was Ophelia.

[winterisakillerwrites]

Get Better - Chapter Three

Title: Get Better

Chapter: 3/18

Character: Tom Hiddleston/Cath Richardson (OFC)

Genre: Romance

Rating: Teen and up

Summary: Love. Companionship. Family. These are all of the things Tom Hiddleston desperately wanted. But his life and his choices left that a distant and unlikely prospect. So he did his best to move on and live his life as is. When an opportunity to return to the theater arises, he jumps at the chance and along the way finds that maybe, just maybe, those distant and unlikely prospects are closer than he could have imagined. Sequel to Brave Face.

Authors Notes/Warnings: So as I was writing Brave Face I knew that Tom’s story wasn’t over, even if that particular part of it was. And while I knew, more or less, what the overall ending to the story would be, its taken me a while to figure out the time in between. Thanks to @redfoxwritesstuff for letting me continually throw ideas off and at you. I still can’t fathom why you put up with it, but I am eternally grateful you do.

Previous

CHAPTER THREE

A sharp wind whipped down the florescent lit tunnel, sending a sudden shiver down his spine. Tom pulled the blanket he’d been handed tighter around him, stifling a yawn. It had been an early morning and despite several cups of coffee, with more espresso shots than he’d care to admit to, he still felt the pull of sleep dragging on him. The excitement, however, was winning by leaps and bounds. He had been intrigued when the idea was pitched to him, of making a teaser for Betrayal and posting it as-is before formally announcing the show the following day. It was a creative and fun way of drawing attention to the production and getting buzz going around it.

The teaser’s premise was simple, Tom would come into focus walking down the aforementioned tunnel, something out of the camera’s range would catch his eye, and the viewer would watch his reaction unfold. Watch the shock, pain, anger, and finally defeat play across his features. No dialogue, no real explanation; just him and music. Beautiful in its simplicity.

He stood to the side, watching as the days’ crew reset the shot and fiddled with the lighting. It was their third, and hopefully last, take; the lighting have gone a touch fuzzy during the last set up. It was a bustle of controlled chaos and something he’d always found fascinating. The way in which the crew flittered around each other was almost an elaborate dance.

“Alright, places everyone!”  The director called once things had been set to rights. Tom nodded, took a deep breath and stepped onto his mark.  

The rest of the shoot passed with little issue. The fourth take had been the one Tom was certain he’d nailed. He’d watched the final footage with the director and found himself pleased with the initial result. The days’ footage, Tom was told, would be edited that evening and should be ready to go up the day after. With a warm smile, Tom bid farewell and headed out into the bustle of the now busy streets.

He’d taken the tube that morning, enjoying being able to sit and people watch. It helped keep him grounded, just doing the everyday tasks that so many seemed to take for granted. He could usually take the tube with little fuss or fanfare. That was one of the wonderful things about London, very few people seemed to care who or what he was. True, there would be the occasional fan who would approach him or the rare ‘sneaky’ photograph (which he never really understood the point of) but for the most part he was left to his own devices.

He’d fired off a quick text to Luke before he’d entered the station, letting him know all had gone well and that he was off home. Luke responded quickly, reminding him that his phone meeting with Marvel regarding updates for the Loki limited series had been pushed back until following afternoon. Which meant for the time being, Tom had the rest of the day to himself and he was greatly looking forward to the lack of demand. He made his way through the ticket barrier and followed commuters down the escalators and onto the platform. The train rumbled into the station a few minutes later and he joined the mass of people making their way into various carriages.

Tom quickly settled into the first available seat, letting his mind wander as he watched the eclectic mix of people filling the carriage. It was something he’d always enjoyed about the city; the mix of cultures and people that had always made it uniquely London. The carriage was busy but not packed, it was still early enough in the day that most commuters were still at work. Tom enjoyed the relative peace as the carriage jostled along, silently counting the stops until his own.

He made his way from the train onto the platform once the train had pulled into his station. A flash of dark hair and a familiar laugh caught his attention as he made his way through the busy station to the ticketing barrier. Tom turned his head in reflex and a jolt of recognition shot through him. Cath. The name materialized in his head without conscious thought. But she was gone before he could make a move, disappeared into the crowd heading towards the platforms.

Tom shook himself back into the present and carried on through the gate and then out onto the street. It was just as well she’d gone, he reasoned, pulling his coat tighter around himself as a swift breeze raced down the pavements. He didn’t actually know her, had no reason to approach her other than his own, admittedly overabundant, curiosity.  And that had often caused more trouble than it was worth.

Silently, he carried on down the pavements and back towards home. Bobby, none too pleased with being shut in the back room in his crate, barked repeatedly as Tom unlocked and pushed open the front door. “Alright, alright,” he called. “I’m coming.”

He shrugged out of his woolen coat, hanging it on the rack near the door, and jogged through the house towards the back room. Bobby, finally free of his confinement, let his displeasure be known with several more loud and growly barks. Tom rolled his eyes and let the spaniel out through the door into the back garden to do his business and terrorize the local wildlife.

The following day’s teaser release and subsequent play announcement were well received, which had been a major relief. The response on social media had been overwhelmingly positive and Tom was more than pleased. Zawe had begun talks to secure her involvement in the show and from what Tom had been able to gather, Charlie Cox was in talks to join as well. Nothing had been set in stone and probably wouldn’t until closer to the New Year, but Tom couldn’t have been happier. He’d known Charlie for years and was glad to at least have the chance of potentially working with him.

His phone had been ringing off and on throughout the day following the official announcement; friends and family sharing their well wishes and excitement. His mother had been particularly thrilled as she could talk more openly about the play now that had it been announced publically. His mother and her enthusiasm had become the stuff of legend in and around Suffolk.

“So someone actually took pity on you and hired your sorry face. I must send them flowers…and my condolences as well,” Benedict laughed. His call had come just after Tom had finished an impromptu afternoon run. He was in desperate need of a shower but hadn’t the heart to tell his friend to buzz off.

“Well,” Tom quipped back. “If they actually hire you on occasion, I figured I would be a shoe-in this time round. And,” he added as an afterthought, “there is a much better chance they can actually pronounce my name.” Ben snorted laughter at the comment which pulled Tom into a laughing fit of his own. “But in all seriousness,” Tom continued once he’d managed to calm himself, “I am ridiculously excited to be able to be doing this. It’s going to be a challenging role and I am looking forward to it.”

“So who are you playing? Robert or Jerry?”

“Robert.”

Ben laughed in delight. “Couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy. And they’ve cast Emma and Jerry?”

“Not officially no,” Tom answered, laughing as well.

“Unofficially?” Ben goaded.

“Zawe Ashton and Charlie Cox, pending availability.”

“Very nice indeed, Mr. Hiddleston. You’re moving up in the world.” He paused, taking a breath. “Hopefully Sophie and I will be able to make it during the run.”

“Don’t feel obligated,” Tom admonished. “I know things are going to be a bit mad with the little one coming.” He had been beyond thrilled, and quietly jealous, when Ben had told him that he and Sophie were expecting again. The baby was due in late January and Tom was well aware that their lives would be chaotic for a least the first few months while their family settled into its new routine. The play would be the absolute least of their priorities. “If you make it, that will be amazing but don’t feel like you must. Honestly.”

Ben laughed. “I have a feeling that by the time your show opens we’ll both be ready for a break and grown up company.”

Tom laughed as well. “I can only imagine.”

A loud scream echoed from Ben’s side of the line. “I’m terribly sorry to cut this short but I need to make sure my sons aren’t killing one another. Sophie will be awfully cross if any damage comes to them in my care.”

“Yes. Yes. Go on, take care of your offspring. Talk to you later.” Tom ended the call and stretched his back, it having started to get a bit stiff. He really needed to make sure he stretched pre and post run now. God, I’m getting old, he thought with a grimace. Tom toed out of his running shoes and took the stairs two at a time, more eager than ever for a hot shower.

—

The rest of November passed in a blur of various appointments and meetings cumulating in an appearance at Tokyo Comic Con. Tom always thoroughly enjoyed being able to attend Asian events, especially fan ones. The welcome he received was always warm and the fan base vocal and tremendously supportive. It made the long flight and horrendous jetlag worth it. And this time had been no exception. He’d thoroughly enjoyed talking with fans and participating in numerous panels. But he had to admit, he was grateful to be going home. He’d joked with Luke about the real possibility of him sleeping for at least a week on the way to the airport.

“Good,” Luke deadpanned back. “Please do. Less chance of you causing me headache.”

The flight home had been a long one, with just enough layover to make his usual jetlag feel a hundred times worse. He’d practically fallen into the car awaiting him at Heathrow and slept all the way home. It certainly wouldn’t do his re-acclimation to British Standard Time any good, but he’d been far too tired to care. How he’d made his way from the car and into the house, he still didn’t know. Nor how he’d fumbled his way from the entry way, up the stairs and into his bedroom. He’d woken late the following afternoon still in his clothes and momentarily unaware of just where he was.

Tom blinked around the room several times before the familiar shapes of his dresser and the door to the ensuite came into focus. Home. He pushed himself upright, a jaw cracking yawn escaping him. He was still tired, still a bit fuzzy-headed, but now that he was conscious he could sense the grime of several hours confined in a small space with far too many people all over him. With a fair amount of effort, he pulled himself to his feet and padded into the bathroom, stripping as he went.

Freshly showered and feeling much more like himself, Tom climbed downstairs nearly twenty minutes later and set about fixing both coffee and food. Plate of egg and toast in one hand and a steaming mug of coffee doctored to his liking in the other, Tom padded into the living room and settled himself on the couch. He let himself revel, selfishly, in the silence of the house.

Bobby was still at Emma’s; she and her husband had volunteered to watch the little devil while he’d been out of the country. Why they’d agreed, Tom still wasn’t entirely sure. And while he’d missed the little bugger, it was nice to be able to eat a meal without having to face those large, pleading eyes. He’d never been able to completely resist them, and he knew Bobby knew.

Tom took his time eating, he had nowhere in particular he needed to be and fully intended to laze about for as long as possible. He pondered actually taking on his ever-growing ‘to-be-read’ pile. It had been ages since he’d allowed himself the luxury of just sitting and reading a book. Yes, he still read as often as was possible, but it was usually during filming breaks when he wasn’t going over lines or blocking or a few moments before falling asleep. Actually sitting about and just reading, that was a true rarity. Possibilities.

Once he’d finished the last of his meal and drained the very last of his coffee, Tom pushed himself to his feet and padded to the kitchen. He contemplated simply leaving his used plate and mug in the sink for later, after all it wasn’t as if he won’t have the time later. But the impulse was quickly abated; his mother would box his ears, metaphorically speaking, for doing such a thing even now. He shook his head and laughed at himself, washing and drying them quickly before heading out of the kitchen and into the main hall.

As Tom made his way down the hall his suitcase and backpack, left carelessly by the door the night before, caught his eye and he groaned. He should take his clothing out and get a load of washing started, knowing if he put it off it wouldn’t get done. With a muffled curse, he lugged the case towards the laundry room, setting it on the floor and sorting through his clothing. He’d gotten a load in the wash and started the sorting of the next when the sharp ring of his mobile echoed from the front of the house.

Tom sighed and padded back into the hall, finding this mobile vibrating and ringing away on the table; Emma’s number flashing across the screen. He had to have pulled it from his pocket by reflex the night before as tended to keep in beside him the majority of the time unless he purposefully needed a break from the outside world.

“Yes, little sister?” he said as way of greeting after he’d grabbed the offending object and slid his finger across the screen to accept the call.

Emma snorted a laugh. “He lives! I was wondering if you’d be conscious and functional yet or not.”

“I do live, the conscious and functional part is debatable. Now what can I do for you?”

A loud, piercing cry echoed through the line and Emma sighed, wearily. “Take my child off my hands for the next…I don’t know…Eighteen or so years?”

“Somehow I think Jack might have a few objections to that idea.” Tom chuckled, padding back into the living room and dropping onto the couch.

“He’ll live,” Emma grumbled. “I’ve got to dash. Just give us a call when you’re ready to swing by for Bobby. And if you want to take Allie with you, feel free.”

“I think I’m good. One adorable yet demanding creature is more than enough for me at this juncture,” he reasoned adding, “And Bobby doesn’t scream” as an afterthought.

“Oh ha bloody ha. See if I agree to help you with anything in future….Allie no, put that down…Alice Marie…Sorry, Tom, I’ve got to go.” The line clicked and Tom let his phone drop beside him on the couch. He scrubbed his face with his hands before standing and heading back into the laundry room. He’d finish sorting his laundry and then call her back, letting her know he was on the way.

The drive across town wasn’t nearly as bad as he’d feared it would be; London traffic being what it was. He pulled his car to a stop in the drive leading to the house forty minutes later, almost reluctant to turn the engine off and lose the heating.  Emma had the door open, his niece on her hip, before he’d climbed out of the car.

“She’s calmed I see,” he called, reaching out to take the little girl from her mother’s arms. She smiled in delight and clung to her uncle, babbling excitedly. “Hello there, angel.” He kissed the top of her head before returning his attention to his sister. “And how has my boy been?”

Emma laughed and shook her head, ushering Tom inside. “He’s been his usual self. Luckily he hasn’t dug up the back garden…again. Only because it’s been so bloody cold.”

Tom threw back his head and laughed. “Well thank goodness for small miracles.”  The aforementioned spaniel, upon hearing his master’s voice, came sprinting out into the hallway, barking. Alice let out a squeal, clapping her hands together and reaching for the excited dog jumping at her uncle’s feet. Tom bent down and gave Bobby an affectionate scratch behind the ears. Alice reached out and grabbed at Bobby’s ears. “No, sweetie. We need to be gentle with the doggy.” He demonstrated by petting Bobby softly on the head. Alice mimicked his motions and Bobby tossed his head up, licking her face. She squealed in delight and wriggled out of Tom’s arms.

Behind him, Tom could hear Emma laughing. “You are a natural, you know?” He turned around, blinking at her in puzzlement. “With kids,” she continued, “have been for years.”

He shrugged, turning his attention back towards his niece and his dog to ensure neither was misbehaving. Alice was contentedly patting Bobby on the head and babbling at him. “So are lots of people.”

“I’m just saying…You are great as Uncle Tommy and I think you’d made quite a good father in your own right.”

“Em.”

“I know you want that, Tom. It’s plain as day to anyone who knows you,” she pressed, giving him a knowing look.

“Of course I want that, Em. I just…Sometimes we can’t get what we want.” He let out a resigned sigh. “Sometimes things just don’t work out the way we want and we’ve no one to blame but ourselves. I’ve come to terms with it.”

Emma folded her arms over chest, “You and I both know that’s a boldfaced lie.”

Tom pushed himself to his feet, turning to face his sister, frustration clear in his eyes. “Just let it go, Em. Seriously.” His tone brooked no argument. “Do you have the rest of his things gathered or do I need to go into the back and fetch them?”

“Tom…” It was clear though that Tom was no longer willing to entertain the conversation at hand. “All his stuff is gathered in the back room.” He gave her a nod and headed down the hallway towards the room in question. Alice who had until that point been contentedly patting Bobby on the head, raised her attention to her mother and inquired, in her own fashion, after her missing uncle. Her mother sighed, “Uncle Tommy’s gone to get Bobby’s things then they are going bye-byes. But we’ll see them again soon.”

Alice pouted at this, “No bye-byes!”

“It’s alright Allie,” Tom spoke, dropping the bundle of Bobby’s things carefully by the door and settling on his knees beside her. “Bobby and I will come back soon. But I think right now mummy and daddy want a little time with just you.” Alice sniffled and grabbed at Tom who pulled the toddler into his arms. “I know, I know.” He kissed her head, and standing, handed the girl to her mother. “You be good for your mummy and daddy okay?”

Emma looked at him over the head of her still sniffling daughter. “I’m sorry,” she mouthed.

Tom nodded and mouthed, “It’s alright.” Picking up the bundle once more, Tom leant down and hooked Bobby’s lead to his collar. “Come on, boy.” He pushed open the front door and led them out into the dark and cold December evening. Bobby had hopped into the backseat of the car willingly enough but throughout the drive home insisted on sticking his nose further and further between the two front seats, nudging at his master’s arm.

“You, my lad, are a menace,” Tom laughed as he pulled back onto the main road and into traffic. The drive home took twice as long as the initial trip. Tom hadn’t been surprised; London traffic was a nightmare, regardless of the time of day. As they sat, Tom’s mind wandered back to Emma’s earlier words. She’d meant well and he’d known it. And he’d hated being so short with her. But they’d had the conversation far too many times over the last few years and he was tired.

There were things he wanted; someone to come home to, a family of his own, the things he saw in the lives of his sisters and friends. And yet here he was inching ever closer to forty and still, more or less, alone. Most days it hadn’t bothered him. He had more than enough to fill his life. He had friends, nieces and honorary nephews aplenty. He had a rewarding and engaging career that he still loved, despite its pitfalls and stresses. But somedays…Somedays that nagging voice inside his head reminding him that he was alone grew loud and became difficult to ignore.

He took a deep breath and forced himself to concentrate on the road before him. Behind him, Tom could hear Bobby’s incessant whining. “Fine, come on up.” He patted the seat beside him and Bobby let out an excited bark and quickly leapt into the front seat where he sat, watching the traffic around him.

                                                           —

Christmas, as always, came far too quickly. Tom had spent the week before scrambling to make sure he found the bits and bobs he’d purchased throughout the year and hidden away ‘for safe keeping’. Why he never bothered to use the same spot twice, he’d never understand. Though, if pushed, he could admit it most likely came from a lifelong habit of trying to hide his things from nosey and inquisitive sisters and later from intrusive school mates.

But he’d found them all in the end, and the evening before he’d been set to drive to his mother’s, Tom sat in his living room surrounded by wrapping paper and sellotape, wondering just what he’d been thinking. Despite his ability to master almost anything thrown his way, Tom had always been rubbish at wrapping and practice, he’d found, made little difference.

Cursing and muttering under his breath, he fumbled his way through. The end results were far from perfect, but they were wrapped. Bobby had taken great pleasure in chasing the loose paper, gleefully tearing it to shreds. Watching this, Tom wisely made the decision to pack the gifts away where the spaniel could not reach. He didn’t think Bobby would actually go after them but experience had taught him that trusting the playful spaniel in that regard was not a risk worth taking.

With a jaw cracking yawn, Tom pushed himself up to his feet. A quick glance at the clock informed him that it had just gone one in the morning. Much later than he’d intended. “Bed,” he murmured to himself. Bobby fast on his heels, Tom climbed the stairs and, after a quick detour to the bathroom to wash his face and brush his teeth, fell into bed.

He set out for his mother’s at a little before noon the following day. Traffic wasn’t nearly as hectic as he’d thought it would be, especially for the day before Christmas. Bobby sat contentedly in the front seat, every so often barking at passing motorists. He had tried, and failed, to keep the spaniel in the backseat and as they left the city limits, he’d relented and allowed Bobby what the spaniel firmly believed was his spot. Christmas music rang out of the speakers, Tom had always had a soft spot for these songs, and found himself humming along quietly as he drove.

It hadn’t snowed yet, which was a blessing. But darkening skies loomed low and threateningly. Tom only hoped it would hold out until he was safely in Suffolk and inside with the hot beverage of his choosing before they broke. His luck, and the weather, held and he pulled into the drive only half an hour later than he’d planned. Bobby barked excitedly as Tom killed the engine, his tail a blur of motion. “Alright, alright. I know you’re dying for a walk.”

Once he was certain Bobby’s lead was tightly fastened, Tom climbed out of the car and darted to the passenger side. Bobby hopped out and took three laps around the front garden before Tom led him back to the car. Pulling his backpack and the bag of gifts from the trunk, Tom headed up the walk and to the front door, the spaniel following closely behind.

The door opened and a chorus of warm welcomes and a loud and enthusiastic “Uncle Tommy!” from his eldest niece, Cora, greeted him.

He was pulled into a tight hug by his mother as he crossed the threshold. “So glad you made it before the weather turned. The thought of you out in the snow in that car…” Diana had made her dislike of Tom’s Jaguar plain from the moment he’d received it as a perk for his appearance in one of their marketing campaigns years ago.

“Mum,” he groaned, unable to mask his annoyance, “It’s a perfectly safe car and you know fair well that I’m a good driver.”

Diana huffed and shut the door behind him. “I’m still not a fan.”

Settling in hadn’t taken long, he’d been placed in his old bedroom and had wasted no time in jogging up the stairs (Diana’s voice echoing after him with an admonishing “no running in the house!”) and dropping his bag on the recently made bed. The room hadn’t changed overmuch in the years since he’d lived in it; a new bedspread had been laid out but otherwise it was still very much the room of his teenaged years. Tom found an odd comfort in that. He returned downstairs and quickly found himself pulled into rolling around the floor with Alice and Cora while they laughed and screamed in delight. He could hear Emma and Sarah behind him, laughing hysterically at his antics.

Dinner was a causal affair that evening, eaten mostly in the living room while everyone chatted and the children played with Bobby, occasionally sneaking him bits of food much to the spaniel’s delight. At quarter of nine the children were tucked into bed with the promise of a visit from Santa if they settled to sleep. He’d been roped into reading several bedtime stories because, according to Cora, “you do all the best voices”. The girls’ parents were quick to agree and so Tom settled on the floor between the two beds and read from the collection of bedtime stories that had been in the house for as long as he could remember.

Once both girls were fast asleep, Tom rejoined the adults downstairs. He took the proffered glass of whiskey from his brother-in-law and settled on the couch. It was wonderful, getting to spend time with his family. He hadn’t seen Sarah nor her family since Emma’s wedding, something he promised himself to rectify in future. They sat up talking until well into the early hours of the morning, though Diana had turned in shorty before ten, and as they finally climbed the stairs to bed he heard Sarah grumble, “Cora will be up at first light and demand everyone join her.” And her husband grunt in response.

Cora was in fact up at just before six Christmas morning. After waking her parents, she’d darted into Tom’s room and woke him as well by jumping repeatedly on the bed yelling “it’s Christmas, Uncle Tommy! It’s Christmas!”

Startled into consciousness, Tom swallowed his heart and grumbled a “that’s lovely” while patting Cora on the back. He heard Sarah snort in amusement from the doorway and shot her an evil look, which only made her laugh harder.  He sat up in time to watch Cora dash from the room, grabbing her mother by the hand and dragging her towards the stairs. Tom chuckled to himself, stretched, and slowly climbed out of bed. God, it was far too early. He pulled on a jumper, as his mother tended to keep the house on the cooler side even in winter, and padded downstairs in search of coffee.

Diana stood in the kitchen when he stumbled in, a steaming mug outstretched towards him which he took gratefully. It was a strong roast, rich and bitter. He drank it slowly, feeling the comforting rush of caffeine through his bloodstream. Gods above, he loved coffee. Excited cries soon echoed in from the living room, beckoning his attention. He made his way into the living room behind his mother and settled into one of the open arm chairs, watching as Alice and Cora were settled before their respective pile of gifts.

The actual present opening portion of the morning lasted all of twenty minutes in Cora’s case. Alice took longer due to the fact she became easily distracted by the shiny paper. But all in all, they had their presents opened in well less than an hour. They saved the adult gift giving for later, once both girls were sufficiently distracted enough by toys to allow them a moment’s peace.

Breakfast and lunch, much like dinner the night before, were eaten in the living room surrounded by bin bags full of wrapping paper. Tom had been drafted into throwing out said bags, very much without his consent he’d pointed out. No one, however, took his protests seriously. After he’d finished lunch and could put off the inevitable no longer, Tom threw on his coat with a grumble and grabbed the bags. Bobby was quick on his heels, sensing walkies afoot. The spaniel was hooked into his lead and headed out into the cold alongside Tom. Once the bin bags were tossed in the bins at the side of the house, they took a quick lap around the front garden then up and down the drive before heading back inside.

He unhooked Bobby from his lead once he’d had the front door firmly shut and the spaniel had shot off back in the direction of the living room where moments later he heard the delighted cries of his nieces. Tom padded towards the kitchen in search of another mug of coffee, or if he was truly lucky, hot chocolate. He found his mother pacing around the kitchen, phone balanced between her ear and shoulder as she puttered around making hot chocolate. Bless her, he thought.

“Oh, dear heart that is fine…Honestly, I know it’s a long drive and a short stop is perfectly fine. I just want to meet that little man of yours…Yes…Alright…Speak soon.” She turned to hang the phone back into its base and jumped when she caught sight of Tom in the doorway. “Goodness, Thomas! You gave me quite a fright.”

“Sorry, Mum.”

“No matter. Now that you’re here you can help me finish these up…And I mean get them ready not sample the lot, young man.” She wagged a reproachful finger at him and he laughed and ducked his head sheepishly. How was it his fault that her hot chocolate was so amazing that he couldn’t help himself? Chocolate was a weakness of his, surely she knew that by now.

Diana shook her head and began passing him the mugs she had started and the various toppings they required. Tom worked dutifully at his task though temptation to sample was strong. “Mum…”

“No, Tom, you may not test them out.” She answered automatically.

Tom laughed. “That wasn’t what I was going to ask, but thanks for the vote of confidence.”

Diana chuckled. “Anytime, my boy. Anytime.” She nudged him gently with her shoulder. “So what was your question then?”

“Who was on the phone earlier?”

“Amy,” Diana answered simply, offering Tom a look of understanding. “They can’t stay for lunch tomorrow, but are going to stop by on their drive home.”

Tom smiled back. “I’m glad they can make it. I know you’ve been dying to meet Henry.” Her eyes narrowed just a fraction, and Tom let out a sigh. “Mum, honestly its fine. What happened between Amy and I is in the past. She’s moved on and so have I. Honestly.”

Diana’s eyes studied his face, an unreadable expression in her eyes. It felt like an age before she spoke, “Then why, my boy, do you look so sad?” Tom opened his mouth to protest but she cut him off with a quick wave of her hand. “Don’t, Thomas. You forget I’ve known you all of your life. I see you. You might have accepted what happened between you and Amy, that I do believe, but I don’t know if you have truly moved on.” She shot him a knowing look. “You haven’t had a steady nor serious relationship since…And what happened that summer doesn’t count.” Diana came to stand beside him, wrapping her arm around his shoulders. “You are my boy and I just want you to be happy.”

Tom blinked up at her, the smile on his face not quite reaching his eyes. “I am…I mean, yes, there are times I wish for things that I don’t have. But doesn’t everyone?” He let out a sigh. “I made some spectacularly bad choices and I’ve learned from them. Things aren’t…Perfect. But they are good. I’m good. You don’t have to worry about me.”

Diana shook her head, “Oh my boy, that’s one thing you still don’t quite understand. I am your mother, I am always going to worry about you.” She leaned down and kissed his head. “No let’s get this drinks out there before the rest of the family starts to riot.”

Both laughing, they worked together to place the mugs onto a tray and carried them back into the living room.

Next

[pcurrytravels]

Thoughts: New Orleans (Part III)

We first made our way across Rampart to Louis Armstrong Park. I was already excited as it was here where I laid eyes on the famed Congo Square. You see, under French and Spanish colonial policy, African slaves were allowed a day off. On this day, this was the place where they would gather to sing, dance, play music, make and sell wares and just keep in touch with their original cultural identity. A strange….happy feeling came over me as I walked around it. I would say hopeful even, and it’s not hard to see why. The Louisiana slaves were quite lucky to have a brief escape from their predicament such as this; you can’t quite say the same for slaves elsewhere in the south.

Anyway, after briefly stopping in Congo Square, we then walked over to the edge of Louis Armstrong Park……only to learn that said park was built over dead bodies. Apparently, the southern portion of it was originally the location of St. Peter Cemetery. In contrast to the above-ground tombs, crypts and vaults ubiquitous in the locale today, this was your run-of-the-mill, six feet underground-style cemetery. Given the region’s high water table, it was quite the morbid sight to behold when it was still in existence. Any time there was even just a little bit of flooding, the bodies would resurface, sometimes even floating down the street. Fed up, the residents of New Orleans insisted that they get a Catholic-style cemetery akin to the ones in France and Spain (being well-acquainted with the area’s disposition to flooding and hurricanes, you’d think they would have done this in the first place but I digress). So, in 1789, they got one, and it’s still in operation today. St. Louis Cemetery No. 1; the oldest continually-used cemetery in the entire United States.

A literal city of the dead, with 700 tombs, and over 100,000 burials. Okay, I’m sure you’ve gotten confused again, so here goes: The reason why there can be so many burials despite the limited amount of tombs is because the tombs double as cremation ovens. They never embalm anyone before burying them here; that way, the natural cremation process won’t be interrupted. Each vault is checked after an arbitrary period of a year and one day to see if the body has disintegrated into ash yet. If it has, then the ash is to be swept down a chute that has been installed into the back of each vault. Thanks to this process, each tomb can be reused an infinite amount of times. And let us be real here; this just makes SO much more sense than having large, sprawling fields of graves. After death, the human body will eventually decompose into dust anyway, and as the generations pass on, said person’s grave will likely have fewer and fewer visitors. At some point you’re just going to have empty coffins using up space. It’s a wonder why this technique isn’t utilized by more people; but there were some stubborn people who simply weren’t having it. More on that later.

Thanks to years of vandalism, grave robbery, gangbangers and drug dealers using the alleys to conduct business, and muggers attacking visitors (the now-demolished housing projects of Iberville used to be right next door if that says anything), you can now only enter this cemetery if you’re with a licensed tour guide or have been granted permission by NOLA’s Catholic diocese. It felt so odd having to show wristbands and identification to enter a cemetery of all places, but given all of the aforementioned issues, I can understand why. Then again, this was a strange and odd place. There was just something so simultaneously beautiful and eerie about weaving in and out of these pathways and alleys between tombs. There is absolutely no doubt in my mind the place is haunted AF.

One place where things get even creepier (or utterly hilarious, depending on your interpretation) is in this little corner deemed the “American Section.” Remember what I said about some people not being down with above-ground burials? Yeah, this is what I was talking about. The backstory goes a little something like this: After the Louisiana Purchase, Protestant Americans started flocking to New Orleans in droves, despite the fact that most of them detested Catholicism (again: what is this logic?). Naturally, they perceived the Catholic way of laying the dead to rest as an abomination and insisted on being buried underground. Even after receiving explanation of why that was a bad idea, they still didn’t care, so when the time came, they were buried in the Protestant fashion of six feet under, with heavy concrete slabs atop their graves to prevent the bodies from resurfacing.

The concrete slabs worked, but only to an extent. Whenever heavy rains and the associated flooding occurred, the underground water would still penetrate the grave. While the heavy concrete on top did prevent the coffins from resurfacing, said coffins would still rise up and loudly bump against the concrete (………could you even imagine hearing something like that in a CEMETERY?). Catholic parents used this to tell their frightened children to be good Catholics, lest they wish to be restless in death like the noisy Protestants in the corner. Eventually, Protestant burials were moved to Girod Street Cemetery, that cemetery now being underneath the Superdome (no wonder the New Orleans Saints are cursed). Interestingly, despite being designated as a Protestant/American cemetery, the former Girod cemetery also had above-ground tombs and vaults. I’m guessing the Americans learned their lesson after the fiasco at St. Louis. Anyways, moving on.

Something of note is how, eschewing Protestants/early American migrants, the cemetery was never really segregated. French, Black, Mixed-race, Italian and what have you were dispersed throughout the entire plot of land equally. It did have “sections” but they were never strictly enforced. Example: Marie Laveau (a free person of color in her life) was interned in the Glapion crypt (a prominent white Creole family). Oh yeah, that’s right, Marie Laveau!

Arguably the most famous tomb in all of St. Louis No. 1, for years upon years, people would leave offerings and write “XXX” before putting their hands on the vault and praying to it. It’s even long been alleged that her spirit inhabits a crow that can be seen perched atop said crypt at night. Because of that, this particular tomb used to look a mess with old candles, rotting flowers, Mardi Gras beads and other sorts of junk all over the place in addition to being covered in scribbles of XXX. That’s all been cleaned up in recent years, and the only thing anyone’s allowed to do these days is bring flowers. A necessary move, because not only was all of that disrespectful vandalism, but none of it actually worked anyway. This little ritual was not Voodoo of the Louisiana variety, but of the Hollywood variety……something Marie Laveau indirectly created herself.

In regards to Marie Laveau’s life, not much is known with certainty (though it must be said that American Horror Story: Coven wasn’t even close to accurate). It’s said she had fifteen children, but the only ones much of anything is known about are three daughters, also named Marie, who looked identical to her. General consensus is that her day job was hairdressing, but there’s also evidence that she worked as a liquor importer, in addition to claims that she was a matchmaker and/or the madam of a brothel. She was known as being a devout Catholic with a strong sense of justice and charity for her community, regularly nursing patients of the infamous yellow fever back to health and posting bail for jailed Blacks. Ironically (and disappointing if it was true), it’s alleged that she may have had a slave or two herself despite how much she championed for fair and equal treatment (sadly, it wasn’t uncommon at all for free people of color to own slaves back in those days, especially in Louisiana).

One has to wonder just how much of the mystery was intentionally created by Laveau herself. After all, when she divorced her first husband, a man by the name of Jacques Paris, she called herself his “widow” even though he was still very much alive. Apparently, she took the divorce quite hard and her reasoning was that he was dead to her. Coincidentally, several months later Paris DID turn up dead, and the circumstances surrounding his death were very mysterious (seeing a pattern here yet?). Everyone in town insisted that she must have predicted his death, even though she was shocked by the news herself. Her reaction? She just went along with it. And thus the legend was born.

During the early/mid-19th century, Laveau was probably the most popular woman in town. People came from far and wide to her home on the corner of St. Ann and Burgundy in the Quarter, in hopes of her using her powers for good fortune, be it in wealth, relationships, lawsuits, business or a number of other matters. Now, she was quite competent in Voodoo of course, or else she wouldn’t be officially sanctified as a Voodoo Queen, but as far as her practice with the Creole elite of New Orleans is concerned? She was basically a fortune teller. Being a hairdresser to upper-class women put her in a prime position to hear a LOT of gossip and rumors. If Miss Robichaux told her all about Mr. Delacroix having an illegitimate child with his Quadroon mistress over in Marigny, then she would know exactly what to tell Miss Delacroix when she stopped by to ask for marriage counseling.

Laveau had no qualms about passing the torch either. There was one daughter in particular who would regularly make a spectacle of her rituals on the shores of Lake Pontchartrain, inviting all to stop by and watch. Interestingly enough, she wouldn’t address herself as Marie Laveau’s daughter, but as Marie Laveau herself. And in spite of her significantly younger appearance, it worked, leading some to allege that the OG Laveau was immortal. Whether this was part of her mother’s instructions or not is unclear, but the myth was only further amplified after her death. Mere days after her burial, either Marie II and/or another one of the alleged lookalike daughters would begin to regularly emerge from her home and go about town, dressed head-to-toe in the same manner as their mother, and claimed to be her. This explains the rumors that swirled around for years after her death that she was still alive.

Regardless of what’s fact and what’s fiction, one thing that’s for sure is that Laveau-Mania never died. Our tour guide, Dartanya for those who missed it in the first post, told us that the cemetery tours have long been plagued with people who were only there for Marie Laveau. In frustration, many tour guides would pick some random tomb and claim it was hers, and people would perform the phony ritual on it and everything. This has led to a number of tombs called “Faux-Laveaus,” with “XXX” scribbled on them. I spotted about five myself.

Aside from Marie Laveau, there’s a number of notable people also buried in this cemetery, including, but not limited to: Homer Plessy (of Plessy vs. Ferguson fame), Ernest N. Morial (the first black mayor of New Orleans), Barthelemy Lafon (noted architect in 18th/early 19th century New Orleans who was in cahoots with the pirate Jean Lafitte) and possibly Delphine LaLaurie (more on THAT woman later *shiver*).

Another thing of note is that the cemetery is slated to be the future resting home of Nicolas Cage (the cemetery is still in operation today, remember?). He has a large pyramid vault smack dab in the middle of the cemetery that’s impossible to miss. Strangely enough, before the recent crackdowns, just like Marie Laveau’s tomb, his future tomb had a little ritual of its own. Apparently, girls were kissing it for good luck which is weird because…….he’s still alive? And his religious background is Catholic? And he’s still alive? And he’s a has-been actor that’s been plagued with financial problems? And he’s still alive? And who on Earth told you to do that? And did I mention that he’s still alive?

One hour and enough sweat to fill a bucket later (for some reason the cemetery is ten degrees hotter than the rest of the city), it was time to go and I must give my compliments to our tour guide, Miss Dartanya. It was truly a pleasure listening to her talk, even making the heat slightly more bearable. She was very thorough and informative without ever being boring, backing up her facts with examples and adding lots of humor as well. If you do any tour through French Quarter Phantoms, I highly recommend requesting Dartanya as your guide. When I visit New Orleans again, I plan to do the same myself.

Of course, I had to ask about the second most famous burial site, St. Louis No. 2. A number of early Jazz and R&B musicians as well as slightly more recent notable figures in New Orleans history were entombed there. However, very few tours go through there because, in comparison to No. 1, it’s a longer walking distance from the French Quarter, hasn’t been kept up very well, with an even worse vandalism problem and has a rather unsafe location to boot. You see, as already stated above, both cemeteries were located on the fringes of a notorious public housing complex known as Iberville. Not even tourists visiting the cemeteries were safe from the rampant crime in the area; with No. 2 having it even worse due to having a somewhat more isolated and hidden location in comparison to No. 1.

In 2013, most of it was demolished in favor of a mixed-income development called Bienville Basin, and the neighborhood is much safer now as a result, although caution should still be exercised. Interestingly enough, I did see one building of the former complex which still stands, being protected by the National Register. Even more interesting is how, before Iberville came into being, this plot of land used to be Storyville.

The city’s official red-light district from the 1890’s to the 1910’s; in a locale already known for sin and debauchery, this was an interior island where the morals got even looser. Judicial loopholes were exposed that allowed prostitution and recreational drug use to be legal within the 38 blocks that made up the district. There were numerous brothels side by side, from fifty cent joints or “cribs” housed in Creole cottages to the lavish, high-rent mansions on Basin, all of which had white, black and quadroon/octoroon girls offering their services. The saloons and restaurants in the area were also early hotbeds for the then-burgeoning sound of Jazz.

Thanks to being a close neighbor with Basin St. Station (it’s been said that prostitutes would stand on their balconies to wave and blow kisses at train passengers……….while naked), many New Orleans residents began to protest the presence of Storyville. The then-heavy Navy presence in the area brought even more tension. The scandal that emerged when several servicemen from the local base turned up dead within the district definitely didn’t help matters in the slightest. Eventually, under intense federal pressure, Storyville was formally shut down as a red-light district in 1917. It still continued on in a more sanitized capacity well into the 1930’s however, with a small number of speakeasies, casinos and brothels still operating undercover until it was all razed in favor of Iberville. Very little of the district remains today aside from a few buildings which once operated as saloons, but operate today on more benign terms (Lulu White’s old saloon in particular is now currently occupied by a grocery store). Well, unless you count Basin Street Station.

Although its days as a train station have long since passed, the structure has found new life as a time capsule of New Orleans history. On the website it’s termed as a “welcome center” for New Orleans, and it definitely fulfills its purpose in that regard. Oh, it’s also free. Within, you’ll find small exhibits about Jazz, French and Spanish colonial history, Afro-Creole/African-American history, Pirates, Mardi Gras, Hurricane Katrina and several other topics in addition to a gift shop. After leaving the cemetery, we came in here to cool down from the humidity before requesting a shuttle to Mardi Gras World. Stay tuned.

[gwenore]

Beware of Antique dice.

My fic for my giftee Crankynerdgirl for the 2017 @rumbellesecretsanta event. I had a great time writing this for you, and though I have never played D&D before I hope you get a kick out of this one. And that you enjoy the smut.  (A bit early, but it is the 20th where I am so I am on time.)

Merry Christmas!

Prompt:  Dungeons & Dragons, Secret Hobby

Synopsis: Belle buys an antique die unaware of what consequences lay in store.  Word count: 3699-

Belle was cleaning up after another Sunday night D&D session with her friends. It had been a great deal of fun, especially with David playing his paladin character, that simply known by the rest as Charming due to a critical fail on diplomacy early on in the campaign, rushed ahead into danger, dragging the rest of the party with him. Had it not been for a couple of lucky rolls from the cleric, played by his girlfriend Mary Margaret, he’d be dead. For someone who was in the group mostly because her boyfriend and friends was into it… she wasn’t that bad of a player. Not to mention she would almost always bring snacks… which was always welcome.

Archie, who played a barbarian… totally out of character of the tiny nervous man who was the image of nice, but that is what is so great with this game, you really could do anything… just survived the encounter by the skin of his teeth, having to be dragged away from the conflict by the much smaller ranger played by Belle’s good friend Ruby.

It made for a really fun scene.

Belle had DM’ed this campaign for a while now, and she loved it so far, as did her players. It was a very odd combination of everything she enjoyed reading about in her stories. A great lover of books she had plenty of ideas for what would happen.

Though by far her favorite part was the story was an reoccurring NPC of hers simply called Rumplestiltskin. She hadn’t really planned for him to be a mainstay just someone to give a quest to the players and antagonize them a bit… which was why she had simply came up with the name on the fly, not thinking anymore of it.

However she quickly became attached to him, using him more and more often, and she had to admit the sessions she was able to play that powerful trickster who her PCs could never be certain was on their side or not was her favorite.

During the months she had been running the campaign she had really fleshed out his character, having made up his entire back story… about how he got his powers and the motivation between doing what he did.

His actions may seem irrational to the PCs, but all it was done in order to help him back to his son, who had, in an attempt to save his father and break the curse that had given him his power, gotten trapped in another realm… one which even the powerful trickster had not even been able to find as of yet.

It had been so much of fun when she got to play someone so unlike her usually quiet and reserved personality. The rest of the players were really amused by her over the top hand movements and gestures whenever Rumplestiltskin was in the story.

Already planning the next session she picked up her purse and a bag slid out. Belle smiled gently as she picked it up.

It was a purchase that she had done on impulse, but as she was browsing her local antique shop… which she would do each time she had some time to kill.

This time she had found this really strange old die. It was cut from a heavy stone, having some real weight to it and sparkling with golden color and black dots.

It was insanely cheap too, not made from any precious materials it seemed nor had it any other value, as not many in the small town were interested in dice… perhaps outside of Belle’s little roleplaying group. So of course Belle had to buy it.

Standing in the middle of the room she was rolling her stone die in the palm of her hand, feeling its weight. She had wished she had thought of it earlier as she would have loved to use it during the session.

Oh well… there would always be next time.

Playfully she allowed the die to roll over the table, thinking of her character Rumplestiltskin and what sort of mischief he come up with to torment her party of players the next time.

The dice spun around the table… and it did not stop.

Instead as it continued to spin and spin in a perfect circle around the table.

Belle furrowed her brow nervously. The die did not slow down as it by all the laws of physics should… instead it started to speed up.

“What…?” Belle asked stunned as it all the sudden started to glow. Standing there absolutely frozen in shock.

When she thought that it might be wise to run far away from the physic-defying glowing die the light became overpowering near blinding.

When the light finally died down Belle was no longer in her small studio apartment above the library. Instead the pretty brunette found herself in a massive medieval castle with every window closed up by curtains… leaving it absolutely dark and only light up by candlelight. In the middle of the room was a large long table, a throne with the back towards the door.

Surrounding the table was all sorts of items from several myths and legends that she had read about. All in all… this place was all too familiar…

Belle big blue eyes were widening greatly once she realized just why she knew this place. Not because she had been there… or not physically at least. She knew it because… because she created it. She had planned out this room in great detail… having described it several times.

This was the main hall of the dark castle of… Rumplestiltskin.

But that was impossible.

Rumplestiltskin was nothing more than a fictional character. There was no way that this was actually happening.

All the sudden she heard a voice just outside that door. That voice… that distinct impish voice. She had imagined it so many times…

She was so stunned that it was basically a miracle that she was able to hear the voice was actually coming closer. Not sure what she should do Belle did the first thing came into her mind.

To hide under the table.

Just as she did that she hid herself the massive doors to the main hall opened and she heard the clacking off his boots resonate off the stone floor. Belle desperately attempted to stay still, not daring to even breathe she was so scared as her eyes were shut close.

‘Please just go away… please… please just go away.’

This was repeated over and over in her head, her heart pounding so hard that it was aching in her chest.

“For someone who apparently has the ability to sneak into the castle of the Dark one himself…  you choose hide under the table?” she heard a mocking tone right by her ear. Opening her eyes she looked right into a pair of glowing reptilian eyes.

A terrified gasp escaped her lips as she covered her mouth as she attempting to crawl away, but was blocked by the table.

“Oh… come on… do you really think that you can run from me? You are even more foolish than I thought,” Rumplestiltskin let out a menacing giggle as he considered her. She noticed his brows furrowed. She then realized how out of place she must look. “Now… who are you? How did you get in here? I will advise you not to lie. It is not going to end well.”

With this threat he started to slowly wander around the table, moving his fingers against each other. Belle started to nervously crawl out, face to face with a character she herself had created. She doubted that this would be smart to share with him though. It was highly doubtful that he would take that revelation well.

If he would at all believe her. Belle was not sure if she ever would believe someone if they were to tell her if she was some fairytale character… even if she was in fact named after one.

On her knees she nervously crawled out from the table, twinning her fingers nervously.

“Um… my name is Belle French… I’m… I’m an adventurer,” she struggled to come up with any sort of explanation that he would believe… and not turn hostile over.

A displeased huff came from his throat.

“An adventurer?” he rolled his eyes. “Like I do not get enough of those… only even those usually tend to knock on the door. How were you able to get past me?!”

Cocking his head he stalked closer to her, a predatory gaze in his glowing eyes, a smile showing his jagged teeth, making Belle shiver slightly as she backed away. She was aware that he was dangerous… it was after all she who created him.

“Um… I… uh… happened to fall into a portal?” Belle swallowed. Rumplestiltskin wandered over to her, looking the strange woman up and down.

“Seems a bit silly to be able to fall into a portal. It is something I would not advice,” Rumplestiltskin moved his hands, as he continued to walked around her, using his claws to tug her shirt slightly.

“Must be some portal to explain those clothes,” he raised his brow.

“But fashion aside… you have yet to give me a reason for me to not show you what happens with intruders into my castle,” the dark one then countered as he stared deeply into her blue eyes. Belle was near panicked and blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

“I know you are searching for your son!”

This stopped the powerful sorcerer, his fingers moving nervously. “What?”

“Your son… the one you lost. The one who is stuck in another realm,” Belle stuttered forth. “Baelfire his name is, but you would always call him Bae. He is the reason you chose to become the Dark one... to save him from the Ogre wars. But he saw what the curse was doing to you and wanted to save you from it… but you were too afraid then and he got lost in that portal to a realm you have not been able to find, despite doing everything in your power to do so.”

As the woman spoke the Dark one’s pupil narrowed greatly and he seemed absolutely horrified that some girl would know so much about him… he had never told anyone about this, kept it the outmost secret.

“How do you know that?! Are you some kind of witch?” he asked, drawing a bit away from her. Though… he could not sense magic on her… then again this did not mean that she didn’t have it… and if she was able to hide it from him… it was dangerous magic indeed.

“No! I am no witch… just…” Belle could not finish her sentence. How could she ever tell him the truth. How would he ever be able to believe her?

“Just…?” the dark one enquired.

“I cannot tell you… trust me, I just can’t,” she pleaded.

“Oh well… perhaps this will change your mind,” he said as he snapped his fingers, Belle finding herself in a dungeon cell deep in the bowels of the castle.

“You will stay here, until you tell me why you know what you should not. And dearie… I can smell a lie,” she heard his voice sneer in her head.

Inside the darkness of the cell Belle collapsed as she started to sob. What was she going to do now?

  Rumplestiltskin was seated at his throne in the great hall. It had now been over a fortnight since that so called adventurer had shown up in his place.

He had tried to figure out where she came from or who she was, but he had come up with nothing. He would question her, promise her whatever she could want, that he would make any deal… especially if she could tell him about his son.

She refused, saying she could not. Even when he had offered to send her home if she would only tell him how to get there.

Once… having drunken himself into a stupor on some brew with magical properties he had even pleaded on his knees to her begging her to tell him about his son if she knew. Still she refused, but had comforted him stroking his hair until he passed out.

It was not just her identity he was unable to figure out. He felt he had exhausted every chance he had to find his son.

It had left him… tried.

Sitting there as he watched the hours tick away he used his claw to carve into the wood of the table as his thoughts once again wandered to his captive.

She was an enigma… very kind… beautiful. No form of malice in her form. He had let her out to do some chores, brought her a servant dress so she could change. He thought about being cruel… to torture her in order to get the answers out of her…

But… he found himself unable to…

He was undeniably drawn to her… perhaps that was why he did not dare to stay close to her for long. It was as if she had… a power over him. A power that seemed greater than even the one his dagger had over him.

He had the feeling… though he could not be certain that if she told him to do something… he would be compelled to obey.

Yet she had never really done anything… not used the power he was certain that she had. Determined he closed his hand, digging the claws into the palm of his hand.

He would confront her. He would make certain that she told him everything. No matter the cost.

Swiftly he made his way down towards her room in the bowels of the castle, but he found himself freezing outside her door, his hand hovering over the door knob. A soft growl came from his lips, before he forced himself to open the door and walked inside.

  Belle sat on her cot as she moved her fingers over the fabric of the dress. She had tried to think of the way back, but… she had no real knowledge of how she got here in the first place. She was sure it was tied to that strange dice… but… what use was that when it was not in this realm?

Her captor… her creation… most of her thoughts were about him. She knew that she may never tell him the truth.

She created him. She was the reason that he suffered as he did. She was the reason that his son had been taking from him and why he had not been able to reunite with him.

In this realm… she was unable to give him the happy ending that she wanted so much to grant him after having seen the pain in his eyes.

But… here she was powerless…

These thoughts had lead her into a trance so when her door was opened she startled to her feet, standing face to face with those golden eyes.

“Rumple-“

Belle was caught off as he placed a clawed finger on her lips.

“No. No more of your words! Tell me! Tell me who you are!” he sneered, his face just inches from her, showing his jagged teeth as he breathed heavily.

“Rumple… you know I cannot,” she said, cornered by him. In truth… though she would not admit it out loud, she had fallen for her own creation. She knew him so well… knew him better than anyone could know a living being.

Having him stand so close… just there… she could smell him. He had a deep musky smell… almost like the air smelled after at thunderstorm.

He continued to move towards her, pressing her up against the wall.

“Always the same! Yet you cannot tell me why I cannot know!” he sneered softly.

“I…” Belle started. “Know that if I could I would, but…”

“You would rather rot away in this castle with a monster than tell the truth?” he sneered, his body now pressing against hers and she could feel him tremble ever so slightly. Belle’s breath became heavier.

“I…” she started, but she was unable to continue. Having him so close… Belle bit her lower lip. Rumplestiltskin himself felt a heat go through his body as if he was ablaze. They both stared deeply into each others eyes.

“Tell me…” he whispered, yet standing so close he was completely in her thrall. Her very presence was intoxicating.

She was the ultimate mystery, yet she shared nothing.

A low growl came from his lips as he pinned her arms to the wall, Belle gasping softly.

“If you don’t…” he tried to threaten her… to scare her, yet a child could see the hesitation in his eyes. Belle’s heart was pounding.

Standing there, feeling him against her like this… Belle gave in and did what she had desired to do for so long. Leaning closer… as close as his hold on her allowed, she kissed his lips. Their lips barely brushed against each other, before she pulled away, her blue eyes hesitantly moving to meet his.

“Why…” he started. “Why did you…?”

She did not speak, but instead leaned her face close once again, kissing him deeply, as she moved her body against his. The grip on her arms lessened as they slid across her form, starting to loosen the laces that kept the dress on.

Part of her knew this was insane, but… every part of this situation was insanity incarnate... so… why not give in?

Her fingers slid over his silken shirt, moving down towards those leather pants, feeling how he was just as excited as she was, making a low pant exit her lips.

Rumple continued to grind against her as the dress slid down revealing her naked breasts to the cold air. Slowly he lowered his head brushing his lips against her collar bone, gently gracing his sharp teeth against her skin.

Belle felt a shiver go down her spine, lifting her head and moaned softly, one of her arm wrapping around the back of the neck, her fingers caressing his hair while the other was cupping his member, feeling his excitement against the palm against her hand.

A low rumble came from the Dark one’s lips as his hand moved down, lifting her leg as he continued to push her against the wall as his teeth graced his teeth against her skin.

“Who… who are you?” he groaned softly, about to down in her smell and warmth. Belle did not answer him, pressing her lips against his again, silencing the questions that she was not able to answer.

Rumple had now lost all sense and was driven only by his desire for her… this mystery that he now held within his grasp.

Lifting her up he had her body up her legs wrapping around his hips he forced her up against the wall. Despite his stature he was having no trouble holding her, and in this position she was able to remove his shirt completely, tossing it to the stone floor. His hands were caressing her pushing down her underwear, feeling how wet she was.

A low rumble came from his throat as he licked her neck. Her smell had become somewhat sweeter… far more enticing. Some part of his mind still enraged by just what she was… where she came from. Yet by this point he could only think about how much he wanted her.

Still… his frustration showed itself as he bit her neck, his sharp teeth leaving a mark upon that ivory white skin. Belle felt the slight pain, arching her back, feeling the rough almost scaled skin against her stomach and breasts, creating a pleasurable tingle going through her body.

Belle’s voice rang across the brick walls as she felt him penetrate her, the rough skin on his dick made her shiver with pleasure.

“…Rumple…” she moaned loudly, pulling on his hair rather roughly with one hand while the other was digging her nails into his shoulder.

Rumplestiltskin let out a low rumble… feeling her heat around him and it made him pant, lust filling his voice as he licked her neck.

Belle had never experienced anything like this before in his life, feeling the stone cold wall against her back, the rough brick scraping against the skin on her back, leaving slight red marks.

Yet Belle could not even feel the pain, delighting in the pleasure that she felt. Never had she felt anything like this before, the legs wrapping around him quivered slightly, already her sight was flickering due to the immense pleasure moving through her body.

“I am…” she moaned loudly in his eyes. “I am… almost…”

He growled softly in her ear, his movements becoming rougher as he was driven on the edge, and panting loudly.

Belle felt her muscles spasm as she came just as he trusted deeply into her as he came. After he leaned his forehead against her chest, still continuing to hold her up and pinned against the wall. Belle attempted to catch her breath, resting against him, her hands continuing to feel the nape of his neck and shoulders gently.

She could not believe… she could not believe this was real… that what she had created… felt so real.

Slowly he allowed her down, still gasping, beyond exhausted, not from what they had just done, but from his days of worrying and pondering.

Seeing the need in him to rest she coaxed him towards the bed and laid him down, before climbing in after. The cot was small… hardly enough space for the two of them, so Belle was resting against his chest.

She wonder if he was uncomfortable, but he was already passed out, his arms holding around her gently, yet firmly as he did not wish to let her go.

Belle smiled as she continued to caress his hair gently, and placed a kiss on his forehead.

Just then something shimmering caught her eye.

On the small table was a golden die.

[n0velust]

2007

When I received the message from a stranger on Myspace, I assumed I was being punk’d.

I heard you get sleep paralysis. So do I. Can we talk about it?

The account that sent the message supposedly belonged to a girl named Rose, but her profile was sketchy. She only had one friend. There were only two photos of her, good quality, not your basic selfies, although they weren’t professional either.

She was a blonde with bangs, her hair cut just above her shoulders. Her eyes were bright and the color of sea foam. There was an angelic quality to her. This was not the first time I had seen her face before, I was sure of that, but I couldn’t place where I reconized her from. It bothered me. Not that I believed the girl in the pictures was the one who actually sent me the message. Someone was messing with me. Someone who wanted me to reveal my weaknesses so they could use them against me.

I had only spoken of my sleep paralysis once in a public setting- a group counseling session all the way back in middle school. Sara, this redhead whom I had my eye on since the moment I first saw her, mentioned having it first in this session. We talked back and forth about it for a minute before our councilor called the meeting back into order. Sara had wanted to know more about my episodes. We met up one day, but she didn’t like that I believed sleep paralysis was a mere medical condition as opposed to a supernatural phenomenon. She committed suicide just a few months after that.

I knew better than to give this troll the time of day, but it was a lonely summer night. Besides, my curiosity had been piqued.

Cute pix but they ain’t urs, I wrote back. Maybe next time add more friends and write an About Me, so it doesn’t look like you just created the account two minutes ago.

              She replied in a matter of minutes. Aww you think I’m cute?? (: lol it’s a new profile. I can send you another pic if you want.

              Alright but draw a dick on your forehead so I know it’s really you, I typed back with a smug grin on my face. Checkmate. Since they wanted to act like a dickhead.

I got up and searched my dark room, my computer screen being my only source of light, for my bottle of vodka. I usually put it somewhere inconspicuous in case my cousin, Jessica, or Aunt Marilyn barged in on me. It’s neck was sticking out from under my pillow. I took several long gulps that warmed my stomach.

I didn’t expect a reply from that account but when I looked back to the screen, endorphins kicked in when I saw the one new message notification. No way. Bad Photoshop?

              A grainy picture probably taken a flip phone, but it was her. She held her hair back out of her face, on her forehead she dawned the crudely drawn penis. A goofy smile.

Can we talk now? she asked in a separate message. I’d like this to be interview style. Can I call you to save us both time?

              Out of pure boredom, I sent her my number. A few short seconds later, my phone rang. We got past awkward introductions.

              “You do look familiar,” I admitted. “Do you go to Apponequet?”

              “No, I go to Bishop Stang.”

              “A Catholic school girl, huh?”

“I have come into your job at Burger Daze, maybe that’s why you recognize me. That’s where I overheard some kids talking about you and the fact that you had sleep paralysis.”

              “Who?”

              “I didn’t ask them their names. I just eavesdropped on their conversation,” she giggled. “To be clear, I know who you are. Not just from seeing you at your job. You’re practically famous!”

              Famous people have fans, I didn’t even have friends. The main reason having to do with my local legend status in the small community of Freetown, Massachusetts. When you witness your father’s murder as a child, then go missing in the state forest for a week, and the media outlets paste your photo all over town, people rarely forget.

              “Maybe I’ll give you an autograph sometimes,” I replied dryly.

              “A piece of paper with your handwriting on it? That’d be great. I could use it to cast a love spell on you,” she said with a smile in her voice.

              “Look, is this supposed to be a joke or-“ My amusement was wearing thin.

              “No joke, Raiden. When I heard those people talking about you, I couldn’t believe it. I haven’t met another living person who’s had sleep paralysis. And for me it’s been especially bad lately so I took it as a sign that I must reach out to you.”

              “Well now you have, so what do you want?”

              “Tell me, do you hallucinate during?”

              “Most people do. Your body puts itself in a state of paralysis, so you don’t act out your dreams. The hallucinations occur because your mind is still in a dream state.”

              “Thanks for educating me on the subject as if I haven’t already extensively researched it myself. I’ll take that as a ‘yes’ then?”

              “Yes.”

              “And what sorts of things do you see?”

              “People who suffer from sleep paralysis tend to see the same things, shadow people and such. Which makes sense because the room is dark and there are a lot of shadows.”

I was so used to only talking about this with therapists that I couldn’t help but parrot the things they told me.

              “What about the old hag though? Lots of people report seeing the detailed image of an old woman, usually wearing a veil, who sits on their chests. She’s not a shadow. Explain why that’s common sighting.”

I paced the room, thinking of an explanation but fell short.

              “Have you seen the old hag?” I reflected her question back.

              “I asked you what you saw first.”

              “Yes, it’s one of the worst apparitions. She starts off as a beautiful woman and then morphs. Total succubus situation, it’s awful.”

              “Sounds like the scene in The Shining. That part really freaked me out as a kid.”

              “I haven’t seen it.” Or any horror movie for that matter.

              “The original is better than the remake although Stephen King wouldn’t agree- anyway so, shadow people, the old hag, anything else?"

I hesitated, stumbling over my words. There was something else. Something Sara mentioned seeing too. Something that she claimed the more energy you gave to, the more powerful it got.

“I’ve seen something coming out of the wall. It’s like it comes from another dimension,” Rose went on, since I was at a loss for words. “It’s three dimensional too, not like a shadow. Unlike the other sleep paralysis villains, it can physically touch. It puts its hand over my head. Local indigenous tribes have something similar in their folklore, expect it comes out of trees instead of walls. They call it a Wuagamortchi. Have you ever seen it or heard of it?”

My throat ran dry, so I went back to my bottle and took another drink. There’s no way she could be messing with me. I’ve only spoken of this particular entity to Sara and one of my psychologists. Sara named this entity ‘Wally”. As a kid, I called it the Gatekeeper.

              “Yes,” I admitted. “I’ve seen it since I was a kid.”

“Can you describe your experiences?” Rose asked. Her voice was too cheery for the conversation we were having.

“No. I’d rather not. Sorry, I’m kind of freaking out right now. You’re not the first person to come into my life asking me about this shit. This girl I used to know, Sara, she saw the wog-thing, whatever you called it, too.”

“Really?” Rose asked enthusiastically. “Do you have Sara’s number? I’d love to talk to her too.”

“She committed suicide, about four years ago. I felt…guilty about it. You’re reminding me for her right now. That’s why my mind is a mess.”

“Why do you feel guilty?”

“Because she came to me for help so she would feel less alone. Her view on it was even darker than yours. She thought that actual demons were after her, that they wanted to make her hurt herself and other people. I dismissed her after she said all that, told her it was in her head. The ultimate betrayal, in her eyes, was when I told her boyfriend, James, that she needed help. She never spoke to me again. Her paranoia was what led her to take her life.”

“I mean, you reached out to her boyfriend about your concerns. It sounds to me like you did try to help her.”

I shook my head. “I could have done more for her. I could have been more empathetic.”

“I get it.” Finally her voice had some emotion behind it. Before she sounded like some robotic customer service representative. “My mother committed suicide and I feel like I should have done things differently too. The shrink I see says I shouldn’t blame myself but it’s hard not to.”  Rose let out a sigh and pulled herself back together. “How often do you experience SP?”

              It took me a moment to follow her train of thought. She dropped a bomb on me and then swept right passed it.

“A few times a week lately. I’ll go months without an episode, then it will become more frequent for a while. It has to do with stress,” I told her.

              “Have you found anything that helps to reduce episodes?”

              “Drinking.” I held my bottle up in a cheers to myself. I sat on my bed, leaning up against the wall with a pillow behind me.

              “Alcohol? Does that really help?”

              “No, not really. I wouldn’t recommend it. It helped at first but now it just makes me not care as much that it’s happening.”

              “Hmm. I smoke weed at night for the same reason.” She paused for a moment, “have you ever smoked before?”

              “Once.” With Sara. God, everything that came out of this girl’s mouth reminded me of Sara.

              We stayed up talking for hours after that, getting to know each other. Rose told me that she had recently found her mother’s diary, where she described her own instances of sleep paralysis. While Rose did believe it was paranormal and I didn’t, we came to the agreement that there was a link between sleep paralysis and mental health issues- depression, anxiety, PTSD. It all went hand in hand.

              I listened to Rose talk about her out of body experiences, how she had been training herself to detach her soul from her body during sleep paralysis and shoot energy balls as her interdimensional intruders. She told me about how her and her mother to share the same dreams and that she would astral project to the astral plane, hoping to find he mother there so she could say goodbye one last time. She said she wanted me to astral project with her, so we could be together, but I said I’d rather just take her out on a date. Her ramblings were nonsensical, yet she spoke them with such conviction that I wanted to believe.

              Rose said that since it was summer she had been waiting until sunrise to let herself sleep. We stayed up until then talking. When we finally did go to sleep we left our phones beside us on speaker, so if something did happen to one or both of us, the other person would be on the line. It was the first night in weeks I had slept without having a nightmare or an episode of sleep paralysis.

              We texted each other all that next day, then at night we spoke on the phone for hours on end. This went on for a few days. By the end of the first night, I was already hounding her about meeting up. she invited me to meet her at this house party she was attending on Friday night.

              Thanks to our late-night chats, not only was I sleeping better but I had also stopped drinking. I wanted to be coherent in our conversations. I wanted her to think that I was smart and funny, not some loser teenage alcoholic. But- before going to meet her at this party in Fall River, a half an hour drive away, I did have a little liquid courage to calm my nerves.

              When I pulled up to the house and parked along the street, she was out on the driveway waiting for me. She wore cut-off shorts and a black crop top, and a light jacket over it, despite it being the middle of July and eighty degrees outside. Over her shoulders, she wore a mini black backpack.

Despite her heavy make-up, she was still gorgeous. Even more so in person. Slim build but great legs. Her friend Genesis was starting next to her, holding her hand. Genesis taller than Rose but not my much. Her hair was clearly bleached blonde and fell in tight, corkscrew curls. She was dressed in a similar outfit. They were staring at my car and whispering among themselves. When I got out, Rose let out a squeal that I could hear from all the way over where I was standing.

Rose looked terrified, her eyes as wide as saucers. She had never even had a first kiss before and while I wanted to rush over and give that to her, what I wanted more was for her to feel comfortable.

              “Hi Raiden,” Genesis called on Rose’s behalf as I approached them.

              “That’s Genna,” Rose said, still clutching her friend’s hand. I could barely hear her.

              “I know. I recognize her as your only Myspace friend.”

              When I got up to them, it struck me how much I towered over them. A though occurred, what if she’s lying about her age? But I pushed it back to the far corners of my mind. Rose told me she was fifteen, sixteen on November 27th. My birthday was exactly a month after hers, I’d be turning eighteen. Our age difference wasn’t too bad. She had mentioned on the phone that she was petite.

              Genna pealed Rose’s hand off of hers and shoved her in my direction before turning her back and walking away. Rose watched her friend go before turning to me. I stood still like I was offering food to a timid deer. Where was the bold girl whom I had spoken to over the phone?

              Suddenly she was running towards me. She leapt up and I caught her in my arms. She wrapped her legs around my waist and initiated the first kiss. I let her have a little peck then tilted my head back farther. She groaned, her fingernails pricking the back of my neck. Our noses brushed before we kissed again. I melted into it. 

              I put her back down and we looked each other over.

              “I’ve never been to a house party before,” I said, to break the ice.

              “I don’t really like these types of parties,” she confessed.

              “Why are we here then?”

              “It just so happens that this party is only a couple blocks away from where a dear old friend of mine lives. I couldn’t miss the opportunity to pay him a visit.”

              Him? Confusion, jealousy, rage bubbled up in my chest.

              “You can come with me,” she clarified. “I want you to.” She batted her eyelashes at me and held her hand out for me to take but I wasn’t so sure I wanted to.

              “Who’s your friend?” I asked, looking down at her with narrowed eyes.

              “Andrew. You probably know him since you went to Freetown Lakeville Middle. Andrew Arslanian.”

I stared at her in disbelief. “Mr. Arslanian? The fucking science teacher?”

              She giggled at my surprise. “That’s the one. Part science teacher, part pervert. He stays busy.”

              “How do you know that? Did he hurt you? What are you going to do to him?” So many questions and finding the answers wouldn’t make me feel any better.

              “No. Not me,” Rose chuckled ironically. “This girl, Danielle. They had an affair. She was too young to know what she was getting into-“

Two girls stumbled out of the party, leaving the door wide open. The music was playing so loud that I could feel the bass in my bones.

Rose lowered her voice, “he knocked her up, then tried to throw money at her and threaten her into having an abortion until she moved away. Dani and I aren’t even friends anymore but that’s a whole ‘nother story. This was all long time ago.”

“Why wait til now to go after Mr. Arslanian? What are you going to do to him?”

“Chill. I’m not going to burn his house done or anything.” She took off her tiny backpack and unzipped it to allow me a peek inside. A single can of red spray paint and a wallet.

“And honestly, I haven’t thought of him in a long time but since I’m in the neighborhood…” She cocked her head and smiled at me, batting her eyelashes persuasively.

“How do you even know his address?”

“The internet.” She shrugged.

“I just-“ I didn’t want to come off like a buzzkill or an asshole. “I came all this way to hang out with you not to vandalize my eighth-grade teacher’s house.”

Her cheeks blushed. “I want to hang out with you too. This won’t take long, and you can pick what we do next.”

“I guess I’m in then,” I said with a scoff and an eyeroll.

She jumped for joy and let out a big, “Yesss!”

“But next time, tell me ahead of time when you have a crazy idea like this.”

“For sure I will.” She took my hands, intertwined her fingers in mine and started leading me down the sidewalk. “I’m so glad you agreed to join me because the Lucy I took should kick in soon an-“

I stopped dead in my tracks, bringing her to an abrupt halt as well. “What?!”

“Lucy. It’s slang for-“

“LSD,” I finished for her.

“It’s probably best that someone will be looking after me when it kicks in.”

I looked at her, then back to my car, and really contemplated leaving. Rose had told me about her experiences with various drugs, Xanax, coke, and of course weed. Genesis brought her into this world and Rose liked to experiment.

              “I saved a stamp for you.” She looked up at me with angel eyes.

              I knew a time would come when I’d be offered something questionable. Under different circumstances, I’d be more inclined to want to try LSD but not at a damn party. Not when we both have a history of mental illness. It seemed like an awful idea. I wasn’t about  to explain that to her because I didn’t want her thinking I was a loser.

              I liked her. A lot. There had other women, I was no virgin, but I had never had a serious relationship before. No one’s mind enticed me as much as Rose’s. I had never shared a connection like this with anybody. No one’s eyes had ever hypnotized me in such a way that my brain shut off entirely. I couldn’t blow this so soon, so I forced a smile over my haunted expression.

              “Let me give you some money for mine at least.”

              “No, it’s okay. Genna and her boyfriend TJ just gave them to me.” She fumbled in her purse and took out her wallet, out of her billfold, she handed me a stamp. Not the postage kind.

              “Don’t chew it or swallow it, just leave it on your tongue for a while.” She held out her finger with the tiny white square on top and I took it and did as instructed.

              “It’s my first time taking acid too so this should be interesting.” She giggled.

“How long ago did you take yours?” I asked, trying to judge how long I’d have until it set in.

“Right before you got here,” she replied. “TJ said it’d take about fifteen minutes to half an hour before I felt anything. He’s a total douche but at least he’s good for party favors.”

              We locked hands again. My hands were so much bigger than hers and she had to hold hers above her waist to align it with my own.

              “Why don’t you like TJ?”

              “He’s a pedo too. Dude’s twenty years old. He has no business hanging out with girls as young as me and Genna.”

              “Why don’t you tell your friend that?”

              “She knows how old he is. She doesn’t care. Just thinks he’s with her because she’s so mature. Trust me, if I told her what I really thought about him, she’d choose him over me. Love makes people stupid and blind.”

              I could see that now…

              “Girls get obsessed with these random ass guys that come into their lives. No depth or anything unique about them. That’s why I never bothered dating. I never met anyone who truly compelled me.” She squeezed my hand. “Until now.”

              “I must really like you because I can’t say no to you.” I grinned at her.

She lit up when I said that. There was no point in either of us trying to play it cool. No way she could have hidden that ear to ear smile. Under the streetlamps, I spotted freckles on her cheekbones, the bridge of her nose, underneath all that make-up. Such a shame that she covered them up.

              “Are you a natural blonde?” I asked.

              “Yeah but my natural color is a little darker than it is now.”

              I kept looking at her. Her familiarity drove me nuts, like when a word is on the tip of your tongue, but you can’t quite remember what it is. 

              “It’s weird that I have no memory of interacting with you when you were a customer at my work.”

              “You see a lot of customers come through there every day.”

              “Yeah but I remember the pretty ones. And I’d definitely remember your face. Especially since you said you come in there a lot.”

              “You were the main reason I was coming in there for a while. Just because I thought you were so handsome.” She laughed at herself. I could feel her hand shaking in mine. It was a little sweaty too.

              “Are you serious? That’s…slightly creepy but also flattering. Does that mean you have ulterior motives when you friended me on Myspace?”

“I saw that as my way in, yes. When I heard those kids talking about you having sleep paralysis, I took it as a sign that we were meant to get to know each other.”

“When you first invited me to this party, I wasn’t even sure if I wanted to come. I’m really glad we’re hanging out, just you and me. Parties aren’t really my thing.”

              “Me either. I have social anxiety. I’m more comfortable with a small group of people. Or with just you.” She led us across the street, onto a different road.

              “You’re pretty social though. You’re more outgoing than me.”

              “It’s all an act, I’m actually pretty shy.”

              “You don’t seem very shy to me.”

              “Really. For as long as I can remember, I’ve always felt like something was wrong with me. Something that everyone else can see too. I became really withdrawn so obviously, it was always hard for me to make friends. But then I learned this thing from Dexter, have you seen that show? Or read the books?”

              “Dexter’s Laboratory?”

              “No!” Rose laughed. “Dexter the serial killer. He only kills bad guys. Anyway, he talks about having to wear this mask to blend in with the rest of society because duh he’s a killer and he works around a bunch of cops but I kind of took that concept and applied it to my own life. Did you know that Paris Hilton is actually smart? She just plays a character to mask her true self?”

“I have no idea,” I replied.

“That’s what I do. I play a character. I say and do crazy things because….people think of me as one thing and my true self hides behind that persona. I pretend my life is a realty show, and I do whatever I want. I know that all sounds weird. I’ve always been real with you though.”

              “I get where you’re coming from. Blend in with the normies so they don’t question you too much.”

              “Right because when you’re quiet, people can fill your silence with whatever they want.” Her words hung in the air, echoing on a loop in my mind.

She pulled her hand from mine and I worried she was suddenly upset with me. She took off her backpack and dropped it on the ground. I picked it up and held it for her.

“It’s so hot,” she said as she took her jacket off.

Before I could open my mouth to ask her why she was even wearing it, I saw the angry, red welts on the pale skin of her freckled bicep. Four of them at least, but there were more that looked faded.

              “What are those?” I asked, running my index finger over them raised scars.

              “Oh, right. That’s why I was wearing the jacket,” Rose said, more to herself than to me. She sighed as she shoved her arms back into it.

              “You don’t have to cover them up but what happened to you?” I pulled her jacket back off to get another look at them. “Are they cigarette burns? Who’s hurting you?”

              Rose chuckled at me. “It was just me, don’t worry.”

              “I am worried though. Why would you do that to yourself?”

              “I get overwhelmed sometimes, and it helps to ground me. Don’t judge.”

              “It’s not exactly a healthy coping mechanism.”

              “Neither is your drinking,” she shot back. Her eyes were narrowed but she wore a ‘gotcha’ smile. “You don’t want to be like my dad, unable to hold down a job. He tells us he quit, he’s gonna sober up, but he just tries to hide it. He never knows what’s going on, it’s really embarrassing.”  Her voice was louder and more emotional than usual.

              “You’re right. I know. What I do is another form of self-harm. I’ll make you a deal though, I stop drinking and you stop burring yourself, okay?”

              “What about a wager?” she asked with a grin. She pondered the terms of the wager for a moment. “Whoever loses has to give the other person oral sex.”

              Laughter boomed from my chest. “No, that’s fucked up. I don’t want to benefit from you hurting yourself. Besides, if we did that, I’d just go back to the party and have a drink.”

We shared a laugh at that.

“I rather just make it a pact,” I went on. “If you feel the urge, just reach out to me and talk to me about it – or your friend Genesis. And I’ll do the same, okay?” I extended my arm for a handshake.

              “Deal,” she said, taking my hand. I pulled her in for a hug, our lips found each other’s, and we kissed softly but hungrily. Euphoria pulsed through my veins. She pulled away too soon.

              “Let’s just this over with, before I start tripping.”

              She led the way through the neighborhood, knowing exactly where she was going. We walked at a quick pace until we came upon a two-story yellow painted home.

              3342 Snyder Lane.

              She took out the spray paint can and shook it, I worried about the noises. There was no car out front in the driveway but there was always a two-car garage, so it was hard to tell if anyone was home.

              Wind blew in through the trees overhead. Rose looked up at the swaying branches in awe. She waved back to them.

              “Rose! Hurry it up,” I urged her in a whisper.

              She looked to me, confused, and then down at the spray paint can in her hand. Dropping to her knees,  she was mesmerized by the paint exiting the can. “I’m creating universes,” she told herself.

              She put her other hand into the stream of paint.

“Stop,” I said. “You don’t want to get caught red handed, do you?”

              She looked up at me and then down at her red palm, laughing at my pun. I took the spray can away from her and told her I’d do it.

              Ask me about Danielle, I wrote on the driveway in messy print. Underneath that, I added, I’m a pedo, to make our accusations clear. 

              I looked up for Rose and nearly had a heart attack when I saw her peeking in through the first story window. I ran up behind her but then froze.

              There was sheer, red, fabric over the window but we could still see what was going on in the house. People, maybe ten of them, all wearing plain black masks but with a red upside-down triangle drawn over the forehead. They were dancing around. In the center of their circle was a man tied to a chair. He was slouched over, still, eyes open and unblinking. They were taking turns stabbing his already dead body.

              “Get away from there,” I said, a little too loud. Because one of them stopped in their tracks and looked out through the window, right at us. This person’s sudden stop in rotation caused the others to bump into them.

              Without thinking, I picked Rose up and threw over my shoulder. I ran out of there like a bat out of hell. Her backpack clapped against her with every step. The adrenaline must have given me extra strength because I ran like that with her on my back for blocks and blocks, until, I couldn’t take it anymore. I set her on the ground, and we ran together hand in hand for what felt like an eternity. All I knew was the run. A running being was my identity. I couldn’t think of anything else. I can’t tell you how long we ran or how far we got. Rose led us and not in a straight direction, to confuse whoever might have been following us. We went through people’s backyards, up and over fences. Repeatedly.

              I could have kept going but Rose was out of breath and collapsed herself onto someone’s yard. She repeated, “I can’t do it anymore, I can’t do it.”

              “Did you see what I saw?” I asked, my hands rested on my knees as I gasped for air. When I closed my eyes, I saw geometric shapes breathing. Circles morphing into triangles, then into diamonds, then into hexagons.

              “They were killing him,” Rose said in a weak voice, burying her face in the grass.

              “He was already dead.”

My voice didn’t sound like my own. I felt like we were in virtual reality, like I was at home playing video games and none of this was even real. “They saw us. We need to keep moving.” I reached my hand down to help her up.

              “I can’t run anymore. I always knew if I was in a horror movie, that I wouldn’t survive the run. Go on without me. Save yourself.”

              “It’s my responsibility to protect you,” I replied. “You’re my girlfriend.”

I was just as surprised of those words coming out of my mouth as she was. She smiled and it was like everything was okay. For a second there, time stood still, and I felt perfectly sober. But then everything got wavy again.

              She allowed me to help her to her feet. “I’m your girlfriend?”

“Why else would I be going through all this shit for you? Now c’mon. We can walk but we have to move forward.”

              “I don’t know how to get home.”

              I looked around my surroundings, only now realizing that we were utterly lost. “You mean back to the party?”

              “Oh, right. I forgot about that stupid party.”

              “Did you want me to take you home? Because I would.”

              “No way. I couldn’t bear to see my mother right now.” I just looked at her. Her mother was dead, but it probably wasn’t the best moment to remind her of that.

              I tried to remember the route we took to get to where we were. If I could remember where Mr. Arslanian lived, maybe I could get us back to the party. What I needed was a weapon though, to make sure that we got back safely.

              The best I could find in the moment was a large stick. I picked it up and held it over my shoulder. “This way,” I told Rose, leading her in the direction that felt right.

              The threat might have been gone but my paranoia remained. All the houses looked the same. We were in an endless labyrinth. I tried to have a conversation with Rose while we walked, to add some normalcy to the evening. My mind would loop, and then I’d completely forget what I was thinking about. I’d forget what I was saying, midsentence. My words came out a mush. We didn’t see any people outside or even cars driving by and that had me feeling like I was in a post-apocalyptic wasteland. Soon the zombies would come.

Things got weirder when I had the sudden sensation that I was actually my father and I was lost in the void between Earth and the afterlife. I was his ghost, trying to escape from some evil force that beckoned to me.  My breath hitched. I could feel my insides vibrating. Everything was vibrating. I sat down in the grass, hoping that the feeling would pass.

              “Are you okay?” Rose asked, the first time she had spoken in a while.

              “I’m going to a bad place.” I covered my face with my hands in shame.

              “You don’t have to,” she told me. “Genna warned me about bad trips. She told me that if you think bad thoughts, of course you’ll have a bad trip. But you can have a good time too, it’s all in how you approach it. You’re thinking too much,” she said. I couldn’t fathom how she could say so many words.

“Just lie back and enjoy the ride.”

What a concept. All my life, I’ve never been able to do just that.

It was a clear night and the stars were visible. For a moment it felt like I was the pilot of a spaceship. Then after staring at them for too long, they didn’t even look real anymore. A hologram. I broke the celestial trance and shifted my gaze over to her. The most beautiful being I had ever laid eyes on, she made this all worth it.

Feeling my stare Rose looked over at me, brushing her fingers over my face. “This is all worth it because we’re together.”

“I was just thinking that exact same thing,” I said, finally finding my words. “You read my mind.”

              She rolled over on her side and I did the same. We were almost nose to nose.

“Remember what I told you on the phone? If we practice reading each other’s minds, soon we'll be able to dream share.”

I thought of the game she taught me to play over the phone. One person clears their mind and closes their eyes, holding a picture of the other person in their mind. The other person focuses on sending a mental transmission, through a beam of light from their forehead, the other person. I wasn’t very good at the game.

“What am I thinking?” she asked. “The category is fruit.”

              I did as instructed and waited to receive her transmission. “Grapes,” I said as the image suddenly popped up in my mind.

              “What kind of grapes?”

              My eyes tried to flutter open, but I forced them shut. “Was I right? They’re green.” The picture was so clear, I could almost taste them. I looked at her for conformation.

              She nodded and smiled. “Yes, green grapes.. The acid must be helping us connect.”

“I’ll try to send one to you,” I said. “It’s a shape and a color.”

               We both laid back in the grass. I closed my eyes, held her in my mind. The light stemming from my forehead was so bright it was like I could really see it.

“Blue, a circle- no wait now it’s a triangle.” She opened her eyes and asked if she was right.

I nodded and told her to close her eyes again. “I’ll send you a number now.”

“Twenty-seven,” she said, in no time at all. “I can see it clear as day. And the numbers are in white bubble lettering with yellow polka-dots.” I was in awe, unable to speak. Good thing that I didn’t need to anymore.

“It’s the date of both or birthdays,” she went on.

“That’s why I was thinking of it. You also mentioned on the phone that you liked that number.”

“Wow,” Rose said. “I can’t believe we mastered teleportation.” We both laughed as she realized she said the wrong word.

“Telepathy,” I corrected. “I think we’d need a little more acid for teleportation.” 

               Music started playing out of nowhere. It was really creepy until we realized it was coming from Rose’s phone. I had completely forgotten we carried such devices.

              “Whoa, the screen is all over the place,” Rose said before answering.

 “I just wanted to check in,” I heard Genesis say. “Where are you guys?”

“We’re lost,” Rose replied.

There was a male’s voice in the background. Genesis had us walk to a street corner and tell her the names of the roads on the intersection we were on. It was hard to read the sign. The letter flew off and were carried away by the wind. After discussion with the other person she was with, Genesis told us to stay where we were and that she’d come find us.

I told Rose that it might be dangerous for Genesis to be walking the streets by herself. The masked ones who had engaged in the ritual could still be looking for us. Rose tried to tell Genesis about Mr. Arslanian and what we saw through his window, but Genesis just started laughing.

“You can tell it’s their first time tripping,” she said to someone else. “TJ’s coming with me. We’re on our way. Just sit tight,” Genesis told Rose before hanging up.

When we saw two figures approaching us, walking in the middle of the road, Rose jumped up and down with excitement. “They found us! We’re saved.”

She took off running towards her friend. I was shocked when both girls lifted up their shirts, revealing their bras underneath. They howled when they bumped their chests together.

Genesis’ boyfriend must have noticed my expression because he explained that was like their secret handshake. He introduced himself as TJ, while the girls were jumping all over each other. He looked like how I imagined he would, old as hell. He had long greasy hair, with a black cap over his head. A full beard, I must have looked like a child next to him. He wore a white t-shirt with holes in it and jeans that hung down below the waist. I didn’t like him. He instantly gave me bad vibes. I would have rather been lost with Rose forever.

As we walked back to the party, which apparently we were only a couple of blocks away from, the girls walked together ahead of us, chatting gleefully back and forth. Rose was telling Genesis that I was her boyfriend and Genesis was really excited about the whole thing.

TJ pulled me back to slow our pace, he grabbed my roughly. “You be good to our Rosie.” That instantly pissed me off. Rose was not his. “She’s a wild one. No experience but she’s ready to learn to fuck.” I was ready to kick this fucker’s ass.

“I coulda had her but she didn’t like the idea of a three-way relationship. She thought Genna would be mad at her but Genna said she woulda been cool with it.”

If Mr. A and his friends needed another sacrifice, I had just the guy for them.

“I never met two girls with such dirty minds,” he had the audacity to continue. “You’ll have fun wit her, I bet. But yo, if you’re gonna stick it to ‘er, don’t go ghost after tonight. That would make her sad. Which would make Genesis sad. Which would fuck wit my own life, ya feel me?”

“I don’t plan on ghosting her and I don’t plan on sleeping with her tonight either. I like her. I’m not trying to rush anything. I want to see where it goes.”

“Bro sex on acid is fucking magical. You should try it sometime. Are you having a good trip?”

“I’d be enjoying it more if I didn’t just see my old science teacher having a satanic ritual.”

He laughed at me, “You’re funny, man.”

 We could hear the music from down the street and started to run towards it, grateful to be freed from the maze. Back at the party, my mood did a three-sixty. Genesis and TJ shared a joint with us, which put me on another level for sure, but the euphoria was back. Genesis kept taking pictures. Rose and I even danced. Our bodies moving to the music without having to think twice about it. After working up a sweat, we went to the refreshment table and drank some water.

              “They’re so many of them! They’re multiplying,” Rose said, mesmerized by a tray of cupcakes. “Why’s no one eating them? I don’t want to be the only one who eats one. What’s wrong with these people?”

I encouraged her to just take one and she looked at me, her eyes mischievous.

              “I have a better idea,” she grinned. “Carry the tray upstairs for me, I’m scared I’d drop it.”

              “What do you want to do with them?” I asked.

              “We could put the frosting on each other’s bodies and lick it off.” She didn’t have to tell me twice, I grabbed the tray and we headed to the second floor.

[hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog]

White Lie (working title)

Hey everyone!!! Below is the second section of my story. Again please reblog if you like this, send me questions/comments/suggestions. I love riffing story ideas with people on this fandom! ❤️ the boys!!

This sections is a bit long, coming it at 1,748 words, but I love the interaction between the characters. Set in a coffee shop in a small town in Michigan, during February, so winter time.

This is my own work, so please don't reblog as your own. Hope you all enjoy!

**********

“Look Dean, I don’t know why we should be here, I just know that Bobby left me a message, that something is going on in this town and that dad was looking into it before, but never finish” I look up to see and overheard the guy, tall, shoulder length brunette hair and hazel eyes in jeans and long sleeve dark green Henley shirt, tell his buddy. A few inches shorter, brunette, in jeans, brown leather jacket, and a well fitted grey t-shirt, as they walk up to the counter of the coffee house, that I am working at.

“I just don’t see anything going on in this town, if you can even call it that, one stop light, over one intersection, I don’t think they even have a population listed” the shorter one says, in huff.

I could tell right away, that he was older one, the one who felt in charge, so having his younger…brother I would guess, tell him something, was not going over well. I was wiping the back counter down, I decide to give them a few more moments before I decide to interject in their conversation.

“It’s 1,893” I say, over my shoulder to them.

“What?” The shorter one says to me, with a bit of an attitude.

“the population of the town, and yes it’s considered a town, with a bank, high school, and a gas station on the corner near the highway that you will be talking to get out of this place” I say, turning around. Although Baymont Bay was a small town, it’s home to me, and guys like him, these fly by night tourist who think they are better then everyone, are the reason I have an attitude some days…okay most days.

I Decide in that moment as I turn around I am not going to let him off easy, or let him dis my town, my home, “So what can…” I start to say, leaving my rag on the counter and facing the boys and I am immediately taken aback by the gorgeous green apple eyes I have ever saw on a guy, and of course he has to have an attitude. I catch my breath, and try to hid it with a slight cough.

“Yeah whatever, black coffee,” he says to me, not even caring or acknowledging that I have stop mid sentence. He looks around seeing the few tables that we have in the front are taken he turning to his brother “I am going to get a table, in back, and…research” he says, walking away, and towards the back.

“Sorry about that, just been a long day” The brunette says with a smile. Pulling me back to reality, I shake out of my daydream of those green eyes, and focus on the cute boy in front of me.

“It’s fine, he’s not the first. Yeah the town is small, but nice, a tourist spot in the summer with it being near Lake Michigan.” I say, trying to make small talk. I can tell he must have to apologize for him a lot, he seems the nicer of the two, the one that wants everyone to like him.

“I guess, we just came during the off season. Can I get a medium roast coffee, with some soy milk, and the black coffee for my brother” he says, pulling out his wallet. I knew it, they are brothers, I think to myself, ringing in the order, and taking his money.

“Sure, I will have those right up.” I say, giving back his change, I turn back to steam the milk. I can tell he doesn't know what to do next, so cute, and although I would love for him to just stand and watch me make drinks all day, it’s also distracting. “You can go sit, I will bring the drinks to you” I say.

“Right, okay, thanks” he says, and walks towards the back.

“Sam, their is nothing here, I have looked no weird deaths, no unexplained phonemes, not even weird urban legends, I mean what did Bobby actually say…” Dean stops talking as I walk up with their coffees.

“Urban legends hum that’s an interesting topic, especially for this town” I say, setting the coffee down, along with two pieces of coffee cake.

“Ease drop much” Dean says to me, snapping his laptop shut, and running his hands thru his hair. “What is this?” He says pointing to the cake that next to his coffee, he grabs the cup and takes a drink, not even looking at the cake. Okay he is on my last nerves, trying to be nice I thought I would bring them something, but you know what…thats it! Taking a breath I put on my most sincere go fuck your self smile and say.

“Well first, I could hear you from the front, so lower your voice if it’s a private conversation” I say mater-of-fact, I am over his attitude, just because he’s cute doesn’t give him the right. I hear Sam trying to hold back a snicker. “And that is coffee cake, actual the best coffee cake you will ever have. thought you boys could use something, show you this town has more to offer then just a stoplight” I say with a smile, I turn back to head towards the front.

As I am walking I hear, “It’s good Dean” Sam mumbles as he has a bit, I smile to myself knowing that I have at least Sam on my side.

**Later that Night**

It’s 10pm and closing time for me, I turn off the machines, and start wiping down the last few tables. I move to the back to lock the door, and notice my last two customers are still here, Sam and Dean, focus on their computer screens with earbuds in, so they don’t noice me right away. finally I pull one earbud out of each boys ear.

“Guys you have to go, I am closing up, and unless you want to help, you have to go” I say, picking up their empty cups and plates, I hold back a smile seeing both plates empty, although that could mean Sam ate both pieces of cake, but whatever.

“Hey, sorry, I guess we just got focus” Sam says, shutting his laptop, and gather up, what I can asset are journals. Dean on the other hand is moving at a snail pace, leaning back in this chair he looks up at me with his hands behind his head.

“So you’ve lived here long?” He ask, I turn back to him, setting the dirty dishes in the buss tub, and giving him a look like, what the fuck now you want to be nice and talk?

“Yeah…born and raised, why?” I ask, now questioning where this was going, I look to Sam, for some explanation, but he’s focus on packing up his messenger bag, and making sure he has everything, his hair falling in front his eyes.

“So you would know a lot about the history, and everything of this town, right?” He says, causing Sam head to snap up and look at him with curiosity. I can tell he wants his bother to stop taking, or at least let him in on where his question is going. Not sure where this was going I am cautious to answer, I decide to break eye contact with Dean and move to another table to clear off, and distract me as I answer him.

“I mean yeah I know stuff, why? What are you looking for?” Trying to get a better read on what he wants know. Thinking back to the conversation I walked in on early, “Wow, you guys are really into this ‘urban legend’ stuff” thinking maybe they want some stupid stories or something.

“Yeah, it’s kinda our thing, when we get stuck in these little towns. Finding out all the little quarks” Dean says casually, I look to Sam seeing a bit of relief come over him, I am not sure what that is all about, but before I can press it,

“Look, Dean we better go, I am sure she wants to get out of here” Sam says, getting up from his chair, “Sorry for keeping you late…” he trails off, not knowing my name, I give him a smile, and help him out.

“Ella, and it’s fine, I mean I want to go home, but like I said before, you pick a good town to be in for urban legend stuff” I say, grabbing the bus tub and heading towards the front. I hear Dean get up from his chair, the legs scraping across the floor, both of them follow me to the font.

“What do you mean by that?” Sam asks, I grab the last few glasses off the counter and head through the doorway of the kitchen, leaving them both out their waiting for my response.

“What did you mean you guys were stuck? Car trouble?” I say, shutting the kitchen lights and walking up to the front counter to face them. I lean up against the back counter and face them both, and both look to me like I hold winning numbers in my mind, or that I am going to tell them the secret of life. Deciding not to give them what they want right away, thinking it would be fun to let them sweat it out or at least give me more information about what they want.

“No it’s fine, why won’t you answer the question?” Dean says, with an edge of annoyance in his voice, he really doesn't like getting the run around. Sam on the other hand is quite, not pushing for answers, letting his brother take the lead, this is all interesting.

“Look, Baymont Bay has a bit of a reputation, with the locals, and some believe that the town is curse” I say, pushing myself from the counter, I walk past them and towards the front door. They both don't say anything, I am sure they think I am crazy, and will have a good laugh at the girl who thinks her town is curse.

“What do you mean curse?” I hear Sam say behind me, I look out the window to see that it has been snowing and I curse in my head that I decide to walk to work today, it’s going to be cold as fuck out their.

See you next week guys! ❤️

@wotinspntarnation

[msfcatlover]

Fanfic projects I am/REALLY WANT to work on

Mob Psycho:

Noir!Takeritsu AU---Okay, so the name is misleading, but I still really love it, and... *drops a month and a half’s worth of research on the table* I AM TRYING, OKAY GUYS?! Part of me still really wants to make it cyberpunk, or at least near-future, but I always feel weird writing actual sci-fi (as opposed to science-based fantasy) and. That keeps getting in the way. I have 2.5 chapters (and twelve different versions of chapter one fuck my brain fuck my life) and. I. Will. Finish. It. Even if I’ve basically dropped the noir style, because, well, I can’t do stylistic writing; I always wind up fussing over my word choice, and wind up losing the project. Bonus Headcanons: *holds up Temporary Roomates, Sickfic, Kissing To Maintain Our Cover, Journey To The Center Of The Mind, Saved By The Power Of Love, and other choice tropes I am way to invested in* ...It’s gonna be good.

Eldritch!MP100 AU---*distant screaming* I HAVE SO MANY IDEAS AND NO FUCKING PLOT/NO FUCKING SCENES GODDAMNIT FUCKFUCKFUCK--

BNHA: (It’s All Iideku, Because We Need More Fucking Iideku)

Color!Soulmates---The AU where the first time you touch your soulmate leaves a colored mark on your skin. Did I rewatch both seasons paying waaaaayyy too much attention to Deku’s shoulders for this? Yes. Which I why I can tell you that if he kept the handprint on his shoulder a secret (because Iida didn’t notice his own mark until after the exam, can’t quite place where he got it, and doesn’t want to assume or impose on one of his friends... meanwhile Izuku is both embarrassed and intimidated around Iida at first, and so when Iida doesn’t seem to know when his own mark showed up on the first day of class, Izuku decides to keep his a secret and just get to know his soulmate a bit first; then he feels guilty for not telling him sooner,) it would take until the SPORTS FESTIVAL for anyone to see it; even then, it’d just be a brief glimpse before Recovery Girl shooed them back out of the nurse’s office. Bonus Headcanons: While marks can form through clothing, skin-to-skin contact causes temporary blossoms of color. Soulmates are expected to call eachother by their first names, and Izuku spends so much time working not to call Iida “Tenya” by mistake. Even though Iida suspects after the Sports Festival, he doesn’t want to make Izuku feel awkward by bringing it up, and can’t think of any reason his good friend would keep something like that a secret. Bonus scene in the Stain Arc, because Iida should be able to reach out to his soulmate, but whoops, wait, nope, haven’t confirmed that, sorry for imposing Midoriya, I’l just be going now... Finally talk to eachother about it after Todoroki makes a joke about being jealous, and then basically calls them stupid for not being together by now. (Side-order of Tenkoi--mentioned, if probably not shown--because MY GODS, the Iida brothers would have their soulmarks in exactly the same location, CAN YOU BELIEVE IT?!)

Haunted!AU---The no-quirk AU where Iida buys a run-down house with a bad reputation, intending to remodel it, only to find he’s not alone in that building. Meanwhile, Deku’s clearest memory of his life is the moment it ended, trapping him in the prison that is the house on the hill until he can finish his unfinished business... whatever the hell it was. Neither can fully interact with the other’s version of reality, and are stuck trying to find the places where those overlap so they can make their peace with their new housemate, and maybe learn something about themselves in the process. Bonus Headcanons: Listen, Tenya doesn’t believe in ghosts, but he also doesn’t want to worry his family, especially when the only logical explanation is that he has completely lost it; time to call in the ghostbusters (aka, Momo, Jirou, and Kaminari, with Todoroki getting dragged along behind them) to reassure him that all of this is real. Deku feels really bad for freaking him out so much. Also, Uraraka is a local medium, not that she really markets that, and her weekend hikes up the hill to chat with Deku are largely responsible for keeping him sane the last few years. It starts out pretty creepy, and then devolves into fluffy remodeling-shenanigans and writing notes on foggy windows and stuff for eachother, but still with that mystery edge? And in the end, when everything else is sorted out and Izuku can wander freely again, the only remaining piece of unfinished business he has left is making sure Tenya is happy, so he sticks around for that.

Stardust!AU---seriouslyoneofmyfavoritemoviesofalltime After Tensei’s injury, the local healer tells his family that no cure from their world would ever be enough to restore his legs, adding jokingly that they’d need a fallen star to save him now. Tenya, never the best with humor or irony, tries to find out what that means, and discovers an old legend that different parts of a fallen star were said to have different curative powers (with the heart of it supposedly being able to “cure death itself.”) When, not even a week later, he watches a star streak overhead and disappear across the horizon, he takes off after it in the hopes of helping his brother; he did not expect to find Izuku, a young man with golden freckles, wild hair, and a smile like a sunrise, sitting at the bottom of a crater with two broken limbs. Bonus Headcanons: The Babylon candle is lent to Iida by Yaoyorozou; her grandmother traded all of their family’s magic for it, but she doubts any of them will ever have a practical use for it (it’s main value is being a magical item that can work beyond the Wall.) Iida doesn’t take Izuku prisoner, but he does feel responsible for possibly making his broken limbs worse, and insists on carrying him to the nearest village to get fixed up (not knowing if the candle can transport two people.) Shigaraki wants the heart of a star to heal his ailing master, Aizawa is the captain (“We’re not pirates--technically, it’s not illegal,”) and like half of 1-A are the crew. Neither Iida nor Deku are the missing prince; Todoroki ran away from home, and has been in hiding for the last few years, and will be just one of many people they encounter along their journey as I pull in the book for more character rolls and a longer timeframe!

Pain!Soulmate AU---This AU is actually twofold. The first is that different people find their soulmates in different ways--all the classics, you know, the color-touch, color-sight, words-on-your-skin, TiMER, etc.--and the one between Tenya and Izuku is the one where you share pain. The second is that All Might was too slow saving Izuku from the Sludge Villain, and poor Midoriya wound up in a coma, while also having an out-of-body experience. Being smart boys, he and Iida had worked out a way of communicating through their bond (light pinching and scratching is no more self harm than writing notes on your skin... I have had this argument with people before about the pain-bond soulmates thing, I’m not having it again. They’d both have a book of morse code or something in their hands by the end of the first year, and you know it!) but have both always sorta relished in the mystery of the whole thing, and so never actually exchanged names or addresses or anything... they agreed to meet either on the day of the entrance exam, or the first day at Yuuei if the crowds thwarted them ten. When that first day rolls around, and Tenya is finally beginning to lose the last bit of hope that maybe he’s wrong, maybe his soulmate has just been... busy, or something, finally moved away from whoever hurt them, and that’s why they haven’t responded in ten frickin’ months, he’s distracted from his misery by a friendly boy he meets at the bus stop on his way out of school; a boy who seems to have an involuntary perception-altering quirk, because no one else can see him. Bonus Headcanons: Izuku can still feel Tenya’s pain in his current state, but without any nerve endings, Tenya can’t feel his. Izuku can’t interact with anything that has weight, but after Uraraka uses her powers on a pencil, he befriends both her and Tsuyu by writing notes to them. Things play out very differently for the first years, because there is no Deku in their class. No, I have no fucking idea how to handle the Stain arc. SUFFER WITH ME.

[destroyedparadise234]

Can I have a Sleepy Hollow Shyan AU though like

New York City police constable Shane Madej, although an excellent investigator by all means, is far too insubordinate for his own good. He speaks out of turn one too many times, and is forced to investigate the mysterious beheadings plaguing the small town of Sleepy Hollow as punishment. But once he arrives at Sleepy Hollow, Shane—a man of science and reason—finds it absolutely ridiculous that all the locals believe the killer is an undead urban legend: a so-called “Headless Horseman”.

Shane doesn’t bother to hide his disdain for the local’s beliefs, and most of the locals return his disdain—wary of this pretentious constable and his odd methods for investigating. They’re suspicious of his bag full of mysterious chemicals, his hand-made contraptions, his books filled with diagrams they can’t comprehend, and most of all his lack of faith. Everyone in town doesn’t seem to want Shane there. Everyone—except for Ryan Bergara, the son of one of the Horseman’s victims.

And while Ryan believes in the Horseman just as much as the rest of them do, he’s also completely fascinated with Shane Madej and his scientific methods. Shane’s attitude, and his steadfast refusal to believe the Horseman could be a possibility, frustrate Ryan to no end. But Ryan can’t help but admire Shane’s brilliance—his equipment and his studies that are eons ahead anything Sleepy Hollow has to offer. And Ryan wants to slap Shane just as much as he wants to help Shane in his investigation. Because, despite how infuriating Shane can seem, Ryan knows that no one else besides Shane will be able to figure out who murdered his father.

At first, their relationship is rocky at best. They’re both hard-headed and quick-witted, a constant stream of arguments seeming to be their only conversation. In the beginning, Shane doesn’t understand why Ryan insists on tagging along with him. All they’d ever done since Shane had arrived was argue. But once he finds out that Ryan’s father, a simple servant, was also a victim of these gruesome murders, he understands Ryan’s persistence.

Shane tells himself that he hasn’t actually tried to shoo Ryan away simply because he’s more useful than he is a nuisance. He tells himself it’s because Ryan knows the history of the town like the back of his hand. He tells himself it’s because even if Ryan has had nowhere near the amount of training he’s had, Ryan is the sharpest person he’s ever met—catching small details and making invaluable connections that even Shane had missed.

Shane tells himself it’s definitely not because of how much he admires Ryan’s passion. That it’s not Ryan’s fiery resolve to stand up for what he believes in, that he challenges Shane in ways he’s never had to face and actually makes Shane a better detective. It’s not the way Ryan works just as hard as Shane does to solve the case, the way Ryan forces himself to swallow down his grief to avenge his father, and is much stronger than Shane ever considered himself to be.

Shane and Ryan try very hard not to notice how their arguments eventually turn into almost playful banter. How sometimes Shane can’t help but stare at the way Ryan’s hair falls over his face as he inspects more evidence, and has to stop himself from gently brushing Ryan’s hair to the side. How Ryan can’t remember ever smiling so much in his entire life before Shane arrived. How for the first time, Shane doesn’t want to know the logical explanation as to why his heart thuds too loudly in his chest whenever Ryan stands too close.

But while they work surprisingly well together, the investigation comes to a standstill. Every new clue they find seems to make less sense than the last, and while Ryan insists it all makes more sense if Shane just believed in the Horseman, Shane refuses to believe this crime was committed by someone not of flesh and blood.

However, all hell runs loose when Shane actually does witness the headless horseman claim another victim. Shane’s entire world is turned upside down when for once, science and reason can’t come to his rescue—when he can’t come to a reasonable conclusion because the headless horseman is fucking real.

And Shane almost leaves Sleepy Hollow right then, almost quits being a constable altogether because his view on the world has been completely shattered. But when Ryan finds out Shane wants to just leave everything they’ve worked so hard on, that Shane’s ready to just leave him, he decides to go out and find the Horseman on his own.

But once Shane finds out Ryan’s gone after the Horseman on his own, instead of leaving Sleepy Hollow, he chases after Ryan. Because as afraid as Shane is of realizing science can’t explain everything—that apparently the supernatural is real—he’s a million times more terrified of Ryan going after that monster on his own.  

After Shane saves Ryan from a horrifyingly close encounter with the Headless Horseman, he vows to see this case to the end with Ryan. Instead of their points of view butting heads, they’re finally truly meeting in the middle and working together to figure out how the Horseman operates—and realize that the victims aren’t chosen at random; someone human is in control of the Horseman.

And at first they’re at a loss as to who could be benefiting from the murders committed, how all the victims were connected. But then Shane finds an opened letter hidden deep within the notary’s files—the will of the Horseman’s first victim: the town mayor. A changed will that leaves the entire fortune of the town’s richest and most powerful man to one person: Ryan Bergara.

At first, Shane can’t make any sense of the will. He doesn’t want to make sense of the will, because it means that the one person who would benefit the most from the town mayor’s murder is Ryan. Because it means that Ryan’s now a suspect.

Shane hides the will from Ryan, and starts to ask the other townspeople about Ryan. He asks them about Ryan’s relationship with his father—because it would make no sense for Ryan to want to murder his own father. Especially after Ryan’s been working so hard with Shane to solve the case because he wants to avenge him. But then he finds out that recently, Ryan’s relationship with his father had gone awry. He finds out that Ryan was suspiciously close to the town notary—the same notary who drew up the changed will.

He finds out more and more information that Ryan hid from him, and all the clues start to make sense in a way Shane never wanted them to. All the evidence pointed towards the one person Shane relied on the most in his investigation, and it makes his entire chest ache when he’s almost certain Ryan’s the one behind all this.

The dam finally breaks when one night, Ryan pulls Shane in for the most heartbreakingly gentle kiss Shane’s ever received. Shane clutches onto Ryan for a moment, relishing the kiss as much as he can before he violently shoves Ryan away. Ryan, already shocked and hurt, breaks even more when Shane begs him to stop this charade and accuses him of controlling the Horseman.

He tells Ryan about the will he found, and accuses him of using the horseman to kill the town mayor to collect his fortune. He accuses Ryan of killing the notary he seduced into creating the changed will to clear his trail. He accuses Ryan of killing anyone who may have been involved in the situation, and he accuses Ryan of killing his own father to try to throw off any possibility that Ryan was behind all this. Finally, he accuses Ryan of toying with Shane’s feelings the whole time to try to ruin the investigation.

But then Ryan screams at him that he never even knew about the will. That he barely even knew the town mayor personally, and that he only found out recently that his father wasn’t his biological father, that he was adopted. His father grew distant after Ryan found out, and that while that had created a rift in their relationship, he still loved his father dearly. He shoots down each of Shane’s accusations one by one, and curses the day Shane walked into his life before leaving Shane alone in the dark.

And Shane wants to believe Ryan so badly, but he can’t change evidence. He does decide to leave Sleepy Hollow the next morning, and plans to take what he’s found out to the grave. He won’t turn Ryan in, but he can’t stand to stay in Sleepy Hollow after how much Ryan’s betrayed him.

But before he leaves for good, he suddenly remembers his first day in Sleepy Hollow. In particular, he remembers how much disdain the mayor’s wife had for Ryan. He returns to the town at night, and sneaks into her house to look through the town mayor’s office. He finds out that the original will had his wife as the sole receiver of the mayor’s entire fortune, and more importantly, that the mayor was Ryan’s biological father.

The pieces suddenly fall into place: The mayor had an illegitimate child with a servant, but to avoid shame being cast upon his name and family, had kept Ryan a secret. With Ryan’s mother dying during childbirth, the mayor had believed he was in the clear.

However, years later, when Ryan’s adoptive father finds out the truth, he demands the mayor to take responsibility and leave his fortune to Ryan, lest he expose his secret to the entire town. To avoid embarrassment, the mayor agrees, and all those who had made the change in will possible had eventually been killed by the Horseman.

It hits Shane that the mayor’s wife is the one person who would benefit from no one knowing the change in will existed, and that he’s put Ryan in grave danger by giving him the changed will.

Shane thankfully is able to find Ryan and the mayor’s wife before the Horseman does. Ryan wants to cry when he sees Shane came back for him, and Shane wants to spend the rest of his lifetime apologizing to Ryan for not trusting him. But they still kind of have to figure out how to not get beheaded by an undead killing machine before they can do any of that.

With the information Ryan has of the Horseman, he and Shane figure out that they need to find the Horseman’s original head and return it to him to end the mayor’s wife’s control on him. After quite a bit of a chase, and after Shane risks his life to save Ryan, they’re finally able to return the Horseman’s head and end his rampage.

In the end, once the case has finally been solved (to the New York police, the case is still officially Unsolved, since Shane and Ryan figured the police wouldn’t take too kindly to the explanation that the killer was an undead mercenary being controlled by the mayor’s wife) Shane takes Ryan to New York City where they start their own detective agency.

(And get married, of course.)

Can you just imagine that AU

[postgamecontent]

The RPGs of the Super NES Classic #3: Secret of Mana

Original Release Date: August 6, 1993

Original Hardware: Nintendo Super Famicom

Developer/Publisher: Square Enix

Nintendo's 16-bit hardware had a lot of great action-RPGs, but perhaps none were as significant as Square's Secret of Mana. This was particularly the case in the West, where Japanese action-RPGs hadn't caught on quite as they had in Japan. The action-RPG label has always been a fuzzy one, with most of the games in the genre leaning pretty hard on one part of the label or the other. For many a player in the West, however, Secret of Mana was one of the first such games out of Japan that felt like it could satisfy both RPG fans and action game fans in equal measures. It also got considerable promotional support from Nintendo, which surely helped the game find its way into the hands of many young players. Adding to its legend is the fact that Square was never really able to make another game in the series that had the same appeal. With no rights issues holding it back, it's easy to see why Secret of Mana was chosen to carry the action-RPG flag for the Super NES Classic.

This is the first follow-up to Seiken Densetsu, otherwise known as Final Fantasy Adventure, Mystic Quest, Sword of Mana, and Adventures of Mana in its various forms. Secret of Mana is somewhat infamous for its tumultuous development, most notably its late shift from being a Super NES CD-ROM game to having to fit on just a regular cartridge. Apparently, a great deal had to be cut from the game and as a result, the final product feels a bit disjointed and buggy at times. Of course, this shift was only necessary due to Nintendo deciding not to pursue their plans for a CD-ROM add-on. While you obviously won't hear any official word about it, I've heard rumors to the effect that the debacle around Secret of Mana was one of the reasons why Square jumped ship from their previous Nintendo-exclusive status. Still, in spite of all that, Secret of Mana is a really enjoyable game, with a unique feel all of its own.

Or perhaps I should say "because of all of that"? I think I've mentioned before on this site that I believe the reason why Secret of Mana is the crowd-pleaser that it is comes down to those required cuts. Series creator Koichi Ishii is a developer along the lines of his former co-worker Akitoshi Kawazu. He favors ambitious ideas and doesn't seem all that interested in being tied down by the conventions of the genres he works in. Like with Kawazu, this has resulted in most of Ishii's works being love-or-hate affairs. He's even had his name attached to some genuine clunkers. His most widely-appreciated game is Secret of Mana. I can't imagine it's a coincidence that it's also the game where he had the least amount of freedom to pursue his ambitions.

Thanks to those restrictions, Secret of Mana ended up being not much more complicated than the Game Boy game that spawned the series. It's a much bigger game, and the presentation obviously blows its Game Boy predecessor away, but the weird and woolly sub-systems that would come to characterize the Mana brand are in short supply here. You can move around and attack with your weapon, charge up for a stronger attack, and cast magic or use items from a menu. Most of the weapons have a secondary use for navigating the world, and each weapon levels up individually as you vanquish foes with it. Magic similarly becomes more powerful the more times you use it. This probably sounds a lot like the much-maligned Final Fantasy 2, but the system isn't quite as broken here. Unfortunately, you'll probably still want to sink some time into grinding levels, particularly for magic spells. One nice point is that the weapons actually change form as you level them up. You only need to get each weapon type once.

One big change is that rather than playing as one character with a rotating guest controlled by the computer, you'll end up with a permanent three-character party. You can only control one of them at a time, of course, while a fairly stupid AI controls the other two. If you happen to have a couple of friends, a couple of extra controllers, and a SNES multitap, you can swap out that silly AI for some real humans. Square did this sort of thing from time to time in the 16-bit era, and while I'm not sure they really thought of it as more than a fun extra, it ended up being a major point in Secret of Mana's favor. People with multitaps were few and far between, but you could at least enjoy the two-player mode even if you didn't have one or know someone who had one. For its time, Secret of Mana was one of the best multiplayer RPGs you could find. The Super NES Classic unfortunately preserves that "missing third player" experience, but it's still a good time.

Truth be told, though, I think the game is a little too long and leisurely to play through completely with other players. Pulling your friend in for a boss fight is a good time, but it's not quite the same joyride when you're just parking yourself outside of a town, casting magic to raise levels. If you were a kid with a brother or sister who maintained a similar schedule to yours and liked playing this kind of game, then you were set. Otherwise, it's a fun thing to do now and then but you'll be thankful that it's basically drop in and drop out. I remember the first time I beat the game, I did it with a friend controlling the Sprite. In hindsight, that was definitely the easiest way to tackle that tricky situation. The computer AI really isn't up to doing what needs to be done in that particular fight.

There are a lot of weird moments in Secret of Mana that help lend it its flavor. I've written elsewhere before about the bizarre out-of-nowhere appearance of Santa Claus partway through the game, and while that's about as strange as the game gets, there's nevertheless a lot of instances of similarly unexpected gags and references. I remember finding out from a magazine that the possessed books that populated one dungeon had a small chance of flipping open to a naked woman and being shocked that Nintendo didn't force that to be removed from the English version. There are a couple of mysterious faces carved into the world map that don't have any explanation. Then there's the Ancient City, which flips your whole image of the game's setting upside-down. You go to the Moon, you travel by cannons, and you visit an island that sits on the back of a giant turtle. It's all very quirky, if a little scatter-shot in its tone.

The game on the whole is just as patchy as its eccentricities. It does a lot of things well. The variety of locales lends the game the feeling of a true adventure. The selection of weapons gives you some interesting combat options, and it's really satisfying when you land a solid blow on an enemy and thwack them into oblivion. The story may not flow well but it's interesting enough in the moment. At the same time, there are definitely areas that feel like they needed more thought. Having the player charge up an attack only serves to lengthen combat artificially, and when that attack misses because of the dubious collision detection, it's quite frustrating. The translation was done in a hurry and it shows. The game is very terse, and there's little room for proper characterization. The computer AI isn't up to snuff in many situations, which can be frustrating. There are bugs a-plenty, and there are plenty of places where you can feel the editing scissors in action.

Happily, the good parts of the game handily outweigh the minor annoyances. I don't find Secret of Mana nearly as interesting as some of Koichi Ishii's other games, but it's probably the easiest game of his to enjoy. I keep hoping to find another layer to the game whenever I come back to it, but it genuinely just is what it is. I thought I might find a new angle this time, having finally played Legend of Mana. All the context which that really provides, however, is to underline the rather obvious fact that Secret of Mana wasn't so much finished as it was buttoned up. Frankly, it's something of a miracle the game turned out as well as it did. Almost as unlikely as Square's seeming inability to satisfy players in the same way again, I suppose.

This was a game that I actually picked up around its original release date. I can't remember what exactly pushed me into it beyond being a general fan of Square by that point. I remember enjoying the Nintendo Power coverage of the game, and I recall that one issue came with a poster of the gorgeous cover art depicting the Mana Tree. That poster was hanging on the wall of my bedroom for quite a while, and I still think it's a great piece of art. The game's art design is excellent overall. The sprites are extremely expressive, with great attention paid to the enemies especially. The backgrounds are nicely detailed and always fit the intended atmosphere nicely. It's lush and verdant when it wants to be, cold and mechanical when it needs to be, and just all-around nice to look at.  

The music is also superb. You have to believe this was one of the areas that took the biggest hit from the shift from CD to cartridge, but I can scarcely imagine how it could have been better aside from being played back at a higher quality. Composer Hiroki Kikuta's soundtrack has a very different feel from other Square games of the period, with a certain organic quality to it that almost perfectly matches the game. Even small things like the whale sound that plays when you power on the game help make this game sound different. The tunes shift from breezy to oppressive depending on the situation, but all of them are good at doing what they need to.

Above all, I think it's fascinating that Secret of Mana has been able to hang on to its legendary status over the years. Unlike contemporaries like Final Fantasy 6, Chrono Trigger, or Earthbound, Secret of Mana doesn't transcend its genre in any meaningful way. It's just a really fun game, one that Square has been decent about keeping in circulation for old fans to enjoy again and new players to discover for the first time. While none of Square's follow-ups have managed to capture a similar level of success, the company seems to understand that this game in particular is a favorite classic. The game has been re-released on the Wii Virtual Console, smartphones, as part of a Japan-only collection on the Nintendo Switch, and of course as part of the Super NES Classic Edition line-up. Secret of Mana is also getting a full remake that is due early in 2018.

As the sole representative of its genre on the Super NES Classic, Secret of Mana serves its purpose quite well. It's also one of the better multiplayer games in the package, albeit one that requires a fair bit of patience. It's unfortunate that Nintendo couldn't find a way to include the three-player mode, but I suppose it would be a lot of trouble to implement for just one game. Whether you go solo or with a friend, Secret of Mana is certainly worth playing again. Square hasn't managed to top its wide appeal with another Mana game in nearly 25 years, and it may well be another quarter of a century before they do.

Previous: Super Mario RPG

Next: Earthbound

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[theshatteredrose]

The Treasure Seeker: Saga 1 - Chapter 3 (Etrian Odyssey 5 Fanfiction)

AN: Despite the seemingly endless string of headaches and minor annoyances this week, I managed to get this chapter done. I’m wondering if I should post pictures of my characters so that my readers would get a clearer idea of who looks like what. And because the pictures are pretty :D You tell me; it doesn’t bother me either way. Anyway, hope you enjoy reading and do let me know what you think of it so far. Any encouragement will be greatly appreciated~

Wattpad | AO3 | FFNet

~*~*~*~*~*~

Chapter 3:

After a restful night’s sleep, Drayce awoke early in the morning and made his way down stairs. Unsurprisingly, Ashton was already up and had partially made breakfast. Though Ashton was indeed a scholar, he was also quite the caretaker. He honestly had to be as his father’s trusted understudy. Treasure hunters and archaeologists were rather notorious for getting caught up in their work.

Opting for a couple of moon apples to munch on, sat at one end of the dining table and looked over the mission registration form Ramus had issued to him yesterday. The premise of the first mission seemed easy enough; draw a map and grab a soil and sapling sample. Oh, and come back in one piece. An important one.

Though it sounded easy, Drayce knew better than to think it would be a walk in the park. The mission, after all, was pivotal in ensuring that only those who can handle what the labyrinth might offer continue on to become explorers. The council wanted to ensure that rookie adventures knew what they were getting themselves in. And, hopefully, lower the potential deathrate.

Those who fail were better off looking for another career.

Although, Drayce was fairly certain that many would-be explorers wouldn’t give up that easily. He remembered Grampa telling him tales of ‘rouge’ explorers, as he called them. Loners who wouldn’t abide by the rules of anyone. Sometimes not even their own rules.

The guards were in place to guarantee that only registered explorers entered the labyrinth. But they couldn’t be everywhere at once and with the labyrinth so large, it was impossible to know all possible entrances or escape routes. And there was nothing stopping the dumbasses from literally scaling the thing to get inside.

In any case, Drayce was determined to do the right thing; complete the first mission and be registered as an explorer.

He could potentially do whatever he wanted after that.

And it was going to be so much fun.

The sound of a chair scrapping against the floor pulled Drayce from his thoughts and he lifted his head up in time to see Blayke take a seat on the other side of the table directly opposite him.

“So what’s on the agenda today?” he asked as he took a bite out of a simple roll of bread with jam on top.

“Hm. Not completely sure, to be honest,” Drayce replied as he dropped the papers he was reading onto the table in front of him. “I was thinking of visiting the guildmaster and registering, but wouldn’t it be better to find a few members first? At least enough to form a party of five?”

“Sounds reasonable,” Blayke muttered around his breakfast as he cast an idle gaze upon the paper work. “The hard part will be finding the right kind of explorer to join our guild. We can’t just have anyone. You have a royal mission, after all.”

Drayce tapped his chin in thought for a moment. “Very true.”

Ashton dropped himself down onto a chair at the end of the table closest to where Drayce and Blayke were sat. “You might want to keep that hidden initially.”

Drayce arched an eyebrow at the green-haired man. “Are you worried about opportunistic explorers thinking they’ll be on easy street?” he questioned.

“Exactly,” Ashton replied before he launched into a quick explanation. “With you being hired by Prince Ramus himself, others might use you to get to him. Or try to use you to get to the Lost Treasures first.”

That made sense. Finding treasure was easier if you had someone else doing all the hard works instead. Surely, though, other explorers would have their full attention on keeping themselves alive, right? He didn’t want to think badly of other people.

Still, it was best to be safe than sorry.

“A lot of these explorers probably aren’t aware of the legends of the Lost Treasures, but you have a point nonetheless,” Drayce conceded.

Blayke finished off his breakfast before he folded his arms across his chest and leaned back into his chair. “That will make finding the right kind of guildmate harder,” he muttered. “Especially since we’re new to the city as well.”

Well, a challenge was only a challenge if you saw it as one, right? That was what Grandpa used to say a lot.

“Don’t forget your connections,” Ashton suddenly piped up with a knowing smile on his lips. “I know a fellow scholar that might be useful to you. He’s an expert in reading ancient texts. I can introduce you to him, if you like. I’m sure he would be greatly beneficial for when you start looking for the Lost Treasures.”

“Sounds perfect,” Drayce said, perking up a little inside at the thought of meeting and perhaps befriending someone who was as interested in myths and legends as he was.

“He also has a brother who might be able to join your guild,” Ashton added, his smile not wavering for a second. “A warlock, I believe. Quite adapt at Mana Detect.”

“Sounds even better!”

Ashton laughed heartedly for a moment. “I’ll arrange a meeting for you guys later,” he said. “But first, you should visit the market place. A few vendors there are quite knowledgeable in the materials found in the first and second floors. And while you’re there, you can buy some food to stock up the kitchen. Can’t entice potential guildmembers to join your guild with an empty kitchen.”

And one couldn’t go exploring or adventuring on an empty stomach, either.

“Fair enough,” Drayce said as he placed his hands atop of the table and pushed himself to his feet.

Across from him, Blayke did the same. “No coffee, though.”

“Why no coffee?” Drayce asked as he arched a questioning eyebrow.

Blayke levelled him with a very stern and somehow shrewd look. “Because when you start your real research, you tend to forget to sleep and drink gallons of coffee to help with your ‘productiveness’.”

Drayce was, naturally, rather indignant. “What? Dude, I so do not do that.”

Blayke’s expression grew agitated as he stepped away from the table and proceeded to head back upstairs to get ready. “That’s an outright lie. I can’t believe you said with a straight face.”

Drayce followed him, he, too, intent on getting ready. “Ok, rude.”

But as per usual, Blayke ignored him and the two of them got themselves ready for a day out grocery shopping.

… … … … …

Locating and travelling to Iorys’ market district wasn’t at all a difficult process. It was thankfully rather close to the guildhouse, allowing for quick and easy shopping whenever they needed it.

Despite it being soon after breakfast, the district was bustling with open vendors and busy shoppers. Of both locals and explorers, it seemed. A few stores appeared to be that of well established businesses, including blacksmithing facilities, while others were more akin to those of travelling vendors who were free to come and go as they pleased.

The store that caught Drayce’s eye was that of a seemingly newly erected building. An open store front with a blacksmith furnace located at the back. And the apparent owner of the store was a young brounii with quite an eccentric outfit of fine firs, feathers, and jewellery. It was actually the large green emerald he had pinned to his chest that caught Drayce’s eye. Obviously the man knew his jewels.

“Welcome!” the brounii cheerfully greeted as Drayce approached, with Blayke trailing behind him and eyeing their surrounding cautiously. “Ah, you’re a pair of new faces. Come to explore the labyrinth?”

“Planning on it,” Drayce answered honestly. “We just arrived yesterday, though. Still plotting our first trek.” He cocked his hip out to the side and planted his hand on it. “Any advice for us rookies?”

“Only to keep a close eye on your surroundings,” the shopkeeper answered swiftly as a friendly smile spread across his lips. “You never know what hidden treasure you might find!”

“Another one?” Blayke was heard muttering behind Drayce, but he was promptly ignored.

“Ah, a treasure man, huh?” Drayce asked as he felt his own grin grow.

“Well, of course. What Brounii isn’t?” The brounii then let out a peculiar but rather adorable laugh, one that seemed to come easy from him. “Anyway, the name’s Syrik.”

The brounii now known as Syrik threw out his hand for Drayce to shake, to which Drayce promptly did. He was in turn about to introduce himself and Blayke, but was interrupted by Syrik continuing to speak.

“To be honest with you, I only arrived to Iorys a few weeks ago myself,” Syrik explained as he released his surprisingly tight grip on Drayce’s hand. “When I heard that they were re-opening the labyrinth to explorers, I nearly fell over myself in my haste to get here. Being a traveling merchant is fine and all, but it makes perfect sense to set up a store here. The labyrinth just has to be filled with mysterious treasures and rare materials, after all.”

Drayce nodded his head in complete understanding. “Ah, a man after my own heart. I come from a long line of treasure hunters and archaeologists. So I know exactly what you mean.”

Syrik eyes widened before they all but sparkled with excitement. “Then that means…you’ll be able to find rare and high quality materials!” he said as he laughed good-naturedly.

Drayce couldn’t help but laugh as well before an idea struck him. “Tell you what; I’m not greedy. Should I find anything worthwhile, I’ll sell it to you.” He then offered his hand out to Syrik in hopes of sealing the deal. “Well?”

“You’ve got yourself a deal!” Syrik eagerly responded as he shook Drayce’s hand rather enthusiastically. “Looking forward to working with you.”

“You, too,” Drayce replied with a grin before he straightened himself up and tapped his finger against his temple. “I haven’t introduced myself yet, have I? My name is Drayce and this is my partner in crime, Blayke.”

Blayke barely had enough time to utter out a greeting in return before Syrik spoke up. “Nice to meet ya both!”

Syrik was certainly an energetic and enthusiastic shopkeeper, wasn’t he? Drayce was more than certain that they were going to get along just fine.

He was about to ask Syrik what kind of ‘treasures’ he was to expect on the first floor when Blayke grasped him by the shoulder and gave him a little push.

“Come on,” he said with a slight scowl on his face. “The kitchen won’t stock itself.”

“Right right,” Drayce answered passively, mildly wondering why Blayke looked more agitated than usual. “Catch you later, Syrik.”

“Come visit again soon~!”

… … … … …

With their arms filled with shopping bags of their much needed food supplies, Drayce and Blayke made their way back to the Crescentia. They seemed to have gotten everything on the shopping list Ashton gave them and hopefully by the time they return, a meeting with that fellow scholar Ashton had mentioned had been arranged. Or at least in the works.

“I quite like the market place,” Drayce commented cheerfully as they turned a corner and took to a slight incline that led directly to their guildhouse.

“That honestly doesn’t surprise me,” Blayke commented. “That place is filled with stores offering novelty trinkets and shit.” He then unexpectedly nudged Drayce with his shoulder. “And, dude, stop telling everyone you’re a treasure hunter.”

“What’s wrong with it?” Drayce asked as he turned to look at the fencer. “No one knows why I’m here or what treasure I’m looking for. Besides, it’ll be nice to be able to geek out with someone else who likes treasures, too.”

Blayke looked both agitated and defiant for a moment before he sighed and shook his head as a genuine expression of worry appeared on his face. “Look, I’m just worried, ok?” he admitted. “What Ashton said this morning is true. Whether they know why you’re here or not, you might be targeted by other guilds looking to get rich quick.”

Ah, so that was the reason for the scowl. He was taking Ashton’s warning to heart.

“Fine, fine,” Drayce said in a surrendering manner, not wanting to argue with Blayke’s obvious concern for him. “I’ll take your concern and worry into consideration and be more careful, ok?”

Blayke seemed satisfied by that for the time being and they both fell into a comfortable silence.

But as they drew closer to the Crescentia, Drayce noticed a young Therian on the other side of the street. They appear to be that of a male, with hair that appeared to be that of both light purple and light blue, and was wearing pastel clothing that was similar to that of rovers. His ears were that of canine variety and were the same pastel yet vibrant colours as his hair. The white wolf with a stunning blue design upon its forehead also gave the indication that he was indeed classed as a rover.

Aside from his wolf companion and a small bag on his back, he appeared to be alone.

Drayce didn’t realise that he had stopped walking and was all but staring at the kid until Blayke kicked him lightly in the shins. “What are you staring at?” he asked.

“That kid,” Drayce said, not taking his eyes off of the pastel rover. “He doesn’t look right.”

“What do you mean?”

Drayce carefully studied the kid’s movements, his brow furrowing slightly. “He’s shuffling his feet and his arms aren’t swinging by his sides. His head is also down as if he can only concentrate on the path in front of him. His wolf companion is right at his heel, his tail down and slightly between his legs.”

“…And?”

“I think he’s sick,” Drayce said simply as stepped off of the curb and made his way to the other side of the street where the younger rover was.

“Wait a second,” Blayke muttered as he moved to follow him.

Balancing his shopping bags into one arm, Drayce approached the rover rather cautiously. “Ah, hey there?” he called out to him, surprised when the kid immediately stopped walking but failed to turn around and look at him.

But his wolf companion did. Blue eyes turned to look at him before quickly glancing back at the silent Therian. This continued a couple more times before a soft whimper was heard.

Drayce felt concerned and he lifted his hand hesitantly. “You-?”

Before Drayce could ask if he was alright and if he needed any help, the kid suddenly fell to his knees before slumping forward haphazardly on the ground.

“Shit!” Instinctively, Drayce dropped his shopping bag and tried to reach out to him. But he had to pull himself back when the wolf immediately lunged forward and stood over the young rover’s unmoving form.

An understandable reaction, but Drayce couldn’t see if the kid was breathing with a protective wolf growling at him.

“Easy now,” Drayce said as he crouched down to be at the same eye level before he reached out a hand toward the wolf. He made no attempt to pat him or touch him in anyway. He just lifted his hand, hoping that the wolf would find him non-threatening and perhaps by sniffing his hand, allow him to check on the kid. “I’m not a bad guy, promise.”

What felt like a solid five minutes of tension, but was probably a minute max, the wolf slowly stretched out his neck and sniffed at his hand. Drayce made sure to stay perfect still while the wolf took in his scent.

And when the wolf nudged at his hand with his nose, Drayce felt relieved.

“See?” Drayce said as he gently patted the side of the wolf’s muzzle. “I won’t hurt either of you.”

The wolf seemed to understand him as he uttered a low whimper and removed his protective stance on his master.

Quickly, but carefully, Drayce rolled the rover onto his side and carefully slipped an arm under his shoulders to pull him into a sitting position. The kid was thankfully breathing, but it was laboured, coming out in short puffs and near-silent whimpers. His eyes were clamped shut and his face was creased into a look of pain. But most noticeable was how red his face was and how sweaty he appeared to be.

“What’s wrong with him?” Blayke asked as he cautiously crept closer, eyeing off the wolf as he did so.

“A fever,” Drayce said before he slipped an arm under the rover’s knees and all too easily picked him up. “Let’s take him back to the guildhouse. Sorry, but could you get the groceries?”

“Yeah, sure,” Blayke said as he shifted his bags to one arm.

But as he reached out to grab the bags that Drayce had dropped, the white wolf unexpectedly beat him to it. The wolf snared a couple of the bags with his mouth and picked them up easily. It was either something he was trained to do, or it was the wolf’s way of wanting to help somehow.

Drayce liked to think it was the latter.

“Let’s go, Doggo,” Drayce said.

They had been thankfully close to the Crescentia before the incident. They were also lucky that the front door had been left slightly ajar in preparation of them returning with their arms full of food and other groceries.

Keeping a firm grip on the young Therian in his arms, Drayce pushed open one of the doors with his shoulder and hastily stepped inside. “Hey, Ashton!”

“Welcome back,” Ashton responded before he stepped out of the dining room with a broom on his shoulder. “I’ve just finished the kitchen and-”

He stopped mid-sentence when his gaze fell upon the rover resting fitfully in Drayce’s arms. A look of confusion as well as concern appeared on his face. “What in the world?” he asked as he ventured closer.

“He fainted on the sidewalk in front of us,” Drayce explained quickly. “I couldn’t leave him.”

Ashton looked at the kid before shifting his gaze up at Drayce. His eyebrow was arched, yet he didn’t seem all that surprised. “Let’s see,” he said instead as he returned his attention back to the unknown rover. “He’s unconscious. He’s also burning up. Place him in the seating room while I’ll get a bed ready.”

“Sure,” Drayce said as he turned on his heel and quickly made his way to the large seating room.

The white sheets that protected the furniture from dust had thankfully been removed, so Drayce carefully placed the still unconscious rover onto a couch and laid his head upon a pillow. The pillow was a light blue, and alarmingly, the flush to the kid’s cheeks stood out harshly.

“He doesn’t look good,” Blayke said as he, along with the white wolf, entered the room. He was carrying a bowl of water and a cloth, thankfully.

And as Blayke placed down the bowl of water onto a nearby coffee table, the wolf companion immediately sat by the couch in front of his master, his nose gently nudging at his hand. He then uttered a small whimper, one akin to that of concern and confusion as he gently licked at the kid’s hand.

The wolf was a loyal companion and could heal the physical wounds of others through licking them. But unfortunately, the kid was ill with a fever. Either from infection or a virus. He needed medicine. And rather quickly, too.

“I think he needs a botanist,” Blayke said after a few moments of silence.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Drayce said as he lifted his gaze from the kid and turned in the direction of the front door. “I better go find one.”

Blayke was naturally going to protest, to ask him where he was thinking of finding a botanist when Ashton entered the room.

“I might know someone,” he unexpectedly said with a small but knowing grin. “He’s called a Botanical Genius, but a little picky when it comes to guilds or explorers he likes. He gets invitations to join a guild daily, but turned them all down.”

All very interesting, but that didn’t matter at the moment.

“Right now I’m not looking for a guildmate,” Drayce said. “This kid needs help. Surely he would agree to help him, right?”

Ashton continued to smile, as if he had expected such a response. “Here,” he said as he handed Drayce a slip of paper with an address on it. “This is where you can find him. But, whatever you do, do not mention his height. Or lack thereof.” 

Quickly grabbing the address, Drayce arched a questioning eyebrow but decided not to ask. “I’ll be back soon, ok? Watch the kid for me.”