#and also 'oh no i looked at this situation and it bore superficial resemblance to a previous experience and now i'm acting insane'

[lhazaar]

sorry i haven't been online as much lately, one part of it is the maladies and the other part is that yesterday's trans tumblr happenings (i am being vague intentionally to protect the girl involved) were tailor-made to hit me Directly in ptsd triggers

[musicallisto]

Hi Clara!! Congratulations on 800 followers again!! (also I was looking through your blog and we have the same birthday!! 🥳) I was wondering if I could please have a male Bridgerton ship? I’m an ENFJ, libra, and Hufflepuff if that helps at all. I can be a bit introverted a times but I’m usually a pretty outgoing, kind, and optimistic person! (although I can be a bit sensitive at times lol) Currently I’m studying to be a teacher. My friends/family are very important to me, and I will always try my best to help them it whatever ways I can. As for some things I enjoy, I love to read and write, as well as spend all day watching movies. I’m also interested in signing, acting, etc. and making things with my hands (ie. knitting, embroidery). Thank you so much in advance!! 💛

hiii birthday twin!! <3 you seem like the most fantastic person ever, I love your personality - and your writing, but it goes without saying. I hope you like your vanilla milkshake, but don’t get caught sipping on it unchaperoned with benedict bridgerton, that would be quite the scandal...

Now, was I influenced by your profile picture? Probably. But even without it, you’d be perfect for each other, and let me tell you the story of you both.

For your first society outings, and following your debutante ball, you became the talk of all London. Sure, you were praised far and wide for your beauty, but there was something else, ineffable and far more tender, that caused your name to linger on most gentlemen’s lips.

It was your first season, and yet you had already shown a mesmerizing elegance and poise, as well as an acute optimism and enthusiasm, making your conversation all the more enjoyable to all those you encountered.

Benedict had noticed you on your first ball, when whispers of your name and your every move had spread among the crowd like wildfire, and he had to admit that you were radiant, and your warm and welcoming smile gave you beauty like no other, but bright eyes and rosy cheeks were legion this side of London, and he knew the superficiality of these pretty little faces all too well. He wasn’t intrigued enough to start up a conversation or ask you to dance, and imagined you would be married in a matter of weeks.

But as time went on, and you apparently gracefully declined each proposal you received, Benedict couldn’t help growing a little bit more captivated each time he heard your name. What could you possibly waiting for? You’d had dashing young men bring you presents, you’d had the wealthiest nobles serenade you with flowers and compare you to a summer’s day; you’d had sonnets and promenades and bouquets and jewelry... and yet you had rejected them all, but not out of malice, still with this grace that everyone knew you to have.

Perhaps, and it was a little pretentious of him to dare entertain the thought, but it pleased a small part of his soul nonetheless, perhaps what you were waiting for was a portrait.

Eventually, after having theorized for days about what could possibly prompt such unambiguous refusals from a lady who seemed to have plethora of choice, Lady Whistledown must have deemed your situation to be less worthy of attention, because not scandalous enough, and you, like most other trends and fashions in that everchanging society, became an old tale before you’d even reached your prime.

But paradoxically, exactly when you were no longer the subject of Whistledown’s tittle-tattle, were you the most intriguing to Benedict.

It was then that he finally asked you to dance, under the watchful (and, though she did not show it, agreeably surprised) gaze of Lady Violet Bridgerton.

“You look positively radiant, lady Y/L/N. Your gown is exquisite.”

And he immediately regretted every single word that he had just said; he sounded just like those boring Lords you had rejected one after the other; but he meant it, he truly meant it, for he was just then seeing the hues in your eyes and in your smile, all those colors like those of a vibrant landscape...

If there ever was a time to show the depths of his soul, it was then; but he had always been good at avoiding conversation, not prompting it.

Still, you didn’t drop your beaming smile, and answered with a slight blush.

“Thank you, my lord. It is... oh, you will think it’s silly.”

“Not at all, I promise.”

“You see, you are the first to say that. Other lords have reproached its simplicity, but I am rather fond of it, because I sewed it myself.”

“Really? That’s impressive!”

He found he had little trouble continuing with the conversation after that, because you were so easy to talk to, so understanding of everything he said and so enthralling to get to know. You were creative and great with your hands, an artist, just like him, and it was the first of many things he would love about you.

“Tell me, lord Bridgerton... I have heard that you are quite the artist yourself.”

“Oh, that’s a gross exaggeration, they are but half-good sketches, nothing of interest, truly...”

Yet as he danced the night away with you, he felt as though a new blood surged through his veins, ready to craft the most beautiful pieces the world had ever seen, if only they could resemble the colors of your face.

“Well, I would love to see these half-good sketches someday, if you allow. I am sure they are brilliant.”

You had never seen a lord blush before, especially not a Bridgerton. It made your heart soar like it had rarely before.

“If you so wish. I couldn’t possibly refuse a lady.”

All along the ride back home, Benedict has the hugest, silliest grin on his face as he looks wistfully at the night sky.

“If it is what it takes to see my beloved brother swoon like a simpleton, then I will come to society balls more often.”

“Eloise, do not talk of your brother like that!”

But she’s right - it only took one night for him to be completely enraptured by you. He understands what they all meant when they couldn’t keep your name out of their mouths, when they said you were delightful and spirited... but they all hurried with their proposals, without getting to know you first, without listening to you, without discovering the depths of your character, and it’s all he wants all he can think about.

The next morning, he’s at your doorstep with a bouquet, and, of course, tightly wrapped inside it so as to not draw suspicion, a few of his sketches, ones that he drew the evening prior because his mind was too restless to sleep.

And thus begins a long period of courtship that has all of London in a frenzy. Surely no one expected the second eldest Bridgerton and the former diamond to have an affinity for each other. Truly no one.

“My Benedict has his heart set on an accomplished lady, a beautiful and clever one at that - this truly is the season of surprises! All a fulfilled mother would need now is for your brother to be the next to mend his ways...”

“And all his brother would need now, mother, is an escape from this interminable paperwork, but alas.”

You can often be seen promenading together in Hyde Park - you enjoy the company of the squirrels and the geese as much as he loves taking in the sceneries to later paint them.

“Y/N, pardon me if it is too bold of me to ask, but why are you not engaged yet? Surely you must have had a plethora of charming young men propose to you...”

“Handsome they were, but hardly charming. Oh, they all had plenty of qualities... an estate by the sea, a racing stable with twenty horses, a spot in the throne succession... but, oh, I care little if this is unbecoming of me to say, they were all so boring! None of them had half the charm that you have. The hours fly by when I am with you, Benedict, and I am entirely truthful when I say I have never felt as content as I feel with you.”

Everyone is London is awaiting the moment they’ll see you with a ring on that finger, but it seems to never come; yet everything is idyllic and your courtship and, beyond that, in your friendship, and he sincerely knows that he is irrevocably and utterly in love with you. But he just doesn’t dare ask.

To the point that Benedict’s entourage give him signals that it is now or never. Even Anthony, though with varying success.

“If you don’t propose to Lady Y/L/N, brother, I will.”

(And no one believed that.)

“Fine, I will, then!”

“Eloise!”

But what he has with you is so special that he’s terrified of rushing things. What if you are not ready, what if he is not as interesting, just as boring as the other men you turned down? What if he read everything wrong? What if...

Until he shoots his shot. It’s not nearly as romantic as he expected, because he fumbles over his words a few times and almost drops the ring in the Hyde Park lake...

... but given the enthusiasm with which you nod and embrace him - not caring about the passerby’s judging gazes -, he’s not sure why he agonized over it so much.

It’s self-evident that your love story is one for the ages.

800 follower sleepover

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 102

Okay, trying to queue this again after it apparently got eaten along with chapter 101.

Y’all pray for me to whatever higher powers you believe in or can make up on the spot. Thanks.

Thanks for this chapter goes to the fabulous anon who sent me an ask about Jedis. I really, really hope you are seeing this chapter and I hope you like it. I also want to thank @baelpenrose​ as my resident Star Wars expert, who checked, double checked, and triple checked my writing to make sure everything was as entertaining/accurate as possible.

Before you all cringe at some comments Sophia makes, she is deliberately downplaying her knowledge of Star Wars in an attempt to see if she can give some of the other characters a twitchy eye.

After an extraordinarily bizarre situation regarding my former foe and who I assumed was his partner, I was profoundly relieved to find myself in a very boring, very normal situation a couple of weeks later. Even the regular family dinner was pretty normal: grilled cheese on a very good sourdough, with a tomato soup so garlicky that even I had no objections to it. I made a point to puree it, so Derek was very happy with the texture and I was happy with the flavor. Arthur shot me odd looks once in a while, but it was a happy, calm dinner.

And things were going… so well… I thought as Maverick dragged everyone into his quiet argument with Sam.

“Sam,” He stated emphatically as he dunked his sandwich and ripped a tomato-soaked piece from it. “We all want it to be real but… humans don’t exist outside of Earth and the Ark.”

“Yoda is not human,” Sam insisted loudly, grinning the entire time.

I choked on my soup. “Yoda? You two have been arguing Star Wars this whole time?”

“Maverick insists they are not real,” Sam enunciated carefully. When he got excited about a topic he loved, he had a tendency to rush everything and drop syllables, making his words nearly impossible to understand.

“They meaning Jedi?” Arthur asked, eyeballing the pile of sandwiches on the table. Finally he snagged his third half-sandwich and dunked it without ceremony. “As much as I wish they were real, I have my doubts.”

So did I. “Human beings who can use telepathy, telekinesis, and distance-empathy?” I scrunched my nose. “I think that’s a bit far-fetched.”

“But extraterrestrials exist,” Sam pointed out.

Conor nodded. “They do, obviously. Otherwise, Noah would be a bloody big figment of our imagination.” Shaking his head, he smiled. “If we didn’t make Santa real as children, I doubt we could make up someone like Noah, right?”

Sam only got more serious. “I was always taught that aliens don’t exist. My teachers told me that the only life off of Earth were bacteria. But, even if Else is bacteria, Noah isn’t. So, maybe other things we thought were pretend are real.”

The table was silent for a moment, shattered only by Derek dusting bread crumbs from his hands as ceremoniously and loudly as humanly possible. “Sam has a point,” he signed. “Fabricators exist, aliens exist.. Hell, telepathy exists - “

“Not telepathy,” Miys interjected from above.

“Neuro-pheremonal communication exists,” Derek finger-spelled, making a point of how cumbersome the term was in a way none of the rest of us really could. Seven minutes later, he took a slurp of soup and continued. “Unicorns exist, even if they are chubby. Why not Jedi?”

I opened my mouth to refute, then realized I couldn’t: we had the genetic code for both narwhals and rhinoceros in the gene bank. Good effing luck convincing anyone unicorns don’t exist, I guess. Instead, I grasped on my one last leg of logic. “But humans, like Luke Starkiller and Obi-whatsit Kenoshi don’t actually exist.”

Maverick looked absolutely revolted by something, which confused me. He liked tomato soup, and actually chose the cheese for the sandwiches himself. “Sophia. Have you even seen those movies?” He was absolutely aghast as he posed his question, and I suddenly understood what he was revolted by.

“Of course I did,” I sighed, rolling my eyes. “In college, in Intro to Adolescent Literature.”

Soup abruptly coated everything on the table as both Arthur and Conor spat violently at my clarification. Arthur scrubbed his chin the fastest, so had the honor of levelling his incredulity at me. “Sophia Reid. Do you mean to tell me that you have only seen Star Wars ONE TIME?”

I shook my head, confused. “No. I’ve seen all three.”

“ELEVEN,” Sam corrected me loudly. “There are eleven movies.”

“Please, please tell me you at least saw Rogue One,” Maverick begged. “You may not have known it was a Star Wars movie?”

“Is that the one where the robot hits the guy and says he has another fresh one?” I asked carefully.

Maverick nodded. Arthur, however, looked like he was about to start breathing fire. “I am going to force you to consume every bit of Star Wars media worth consuming if I have to get Charly and Derek to program the audio versions to play in every room you enter.”

“I can do that,” Derek signed, unhelpfully.

Arthur just nodded. “See? I can make this happen. Your quarters will feel like Hoth, all digital communications will sound like C-3PO, and many Bothans will die before your datapad functions.”

Alarmingly, Miys interjected. “Wisdom, Bothans are an endangered species. Please do not encourage Educator Farro to commit atrocities.”

I was still gasping in confusion when Arthur recovered from his choking. “Oh shit. Bothans are real? They were a very back-stabby race of dog-type people who fought against fascists in Terran media. I thought, at least. I wouldn’t actually kill a real one… I am far more high functioning of a sociopath than that, thank you.”

“Noah,” I choked out. “Are you serious? Are Bothans real?”

“Affirmative,” they responded, setting off an entirely new round of choking and sputtering. I would need to have something done about my floors if this kept up. “And while they do resemble Terran canines on a very superficial level, they are genetically more closely related to a Terran fern.”

Arthur looked like his heart had been ripped out of his chest. “That is the least back-stabbing and least threatening plant I can possibly think of.”

Conor, not to be outdone, was still curious. “Boston or Fiddlehead?”

“Asparagus fern, Human Conor,” was the reply that set off a thousand coughs.

Sam recovered first. “That does not mean Jedi don’t exist,” he insisted.

“Of course Jedi exist,” Miys answered in a tone that was as close to being confused as I had ever heard.

Almost immediately, Arthur, Maverick, and Sam started cheering and high-fiving. Conor looked confused, while I spat my soup out again.

“WHAT?” I choked out between attempts at keeping tomatoes and garlic out of my lungs.

“They are as real as any member of any other Terran religion.”

Silence ruled the room for a split second, broken first by Arthur throwing his fork in the air behind him.  Like a signal, it led to Sam and Maverick dropping their head to their forearms with a groan.

I managed to recover enough to slide my food away, lest I risk death over an absurd conversation. “Are there anything like Jedi in the known galaxy?” I asked, receiving a thumbs up from Arthur, who was still trying not to choke on his soup.

“Only in small measures.”

That seemed like the magic phrase to snap Arthur out of whatever coughing fit he was having. “Are there any species in the galaxy that have Jedi abilities?”

“You will need to be more specific.”

Conor, laughter out of his system, joined gamely. “Is there anything that can move physical objects without touching them directly?” he started.

“Several species can,” Miys conceded. “Those who only experience what you consider ‘sight’ as changes in air currents can, in fifty-four percent of cases so far, also change the air currents in a sufficient way as to move physical objects.”

“Wait,” I interrupted. “They can stare at something hard enough to move it?”

“Wisdom, if I experienced physical pain, I am certain that your oversimplification just now would have caused such a sensation.”

Without rebutting, I waved for Miys to continue and ignored the laughter caused by the comment.

“Similarly, there are species more limited than Hujylsogox, who can perceive the physical world strictly through sound,” they continued. “In such cases, it is not uncommon for these species to also alter their surroundings by vibrating physical objects at a frequency that causes them to move within physical space.” A brief pause before, “And no, Wisdom, that does not mean they scream at objects until such objects move. I would also like to point out, Educator Farro, that the same species can cause internal organs to vibrate as a sufficient frequency as to cut off air flow.”

“Force choke is real,” Arthur whisper-shouted, mildly horrified. Clearing his throat, he spoke more clearly for his next question. “What about ‘there is a disturbance in the Force, as if many voices cried out’ etc?”

Miys buzzed thoughtfully for a moment before replying more clearly. “There are number of species who are able to perceive and interpret with great accuracy any changes in interstellar radiation, no matter how small. Should, say, a star go nova or collapse into a black hole, they are very reliable in providing information to cartographers. Should such a species state with certainty that a planet ceased to exist, I would need to see the planet from orbit in order to disbelieve them.”

Maverick let loose a low whistle, but it was Sam who spoke next. “But what about living beings, on an individual level. I know you can do that, but can any other species?”

“It is, perhaps, the most common trait in the known galaxy,” Miys admitted. “Even humans can do this, to a degree, although you tend to ignore it against all logic.”

“Okay. What about force lightning, though?”

I actually started to respond to that, having an answer finally, but Miys beat me to the draw. “Species who communicate through electrical currents are more numerous in the galaxy than those who can see. In the same way, they need to be able to manipulate such currents. Their young are frequently sequestered on their home worlds in order to prevent electrocution of species whose neural organs can be disrupted by uncontrolled communication. The same species are capable of using those same currents to increase their own synaptic response and reflexes.”

I almost wanted to laugh at Maverick’s face. He looked frustrated and ashamed in a way that I could not figure out. Maybe because these abilities existed, but not in humans? Regardless, his tone was frustrated when he asked his next question. “What about force ghosts? Please tell me those are real?”

“Very much so,” Miys confirmed. “Though likely not in the way you think. What you consider ‘Force Ghosts’ are, in the galaxy as it is, the result of technological advancement combined with spiritual beliefs.” A few groans surrounded the table, but Maverick perked up slightly. “Many species believe, as a result of their evolution, that their predecessors’ life energy persists after death. In these cultures, it is so common as to be unremarkable for a person to have a synaptic recording chip installed shortly after birth, to record their entire lives. They, then, pass their chip on to their successor in  position.” Wait a minute… I thought, but Miys continued before I could put everything together. “In such circumstances, many species’s neural organs will manifest a… personality, separate from the original, in order to preserve mental stability. Such manifestations are very similar to what Terran media considers a ‘Force ghost’.”

“Hang on,” I ventured, holding my hand up emphatically to cut off any other questions from the table. “That. Stop there.” Taking a deep breath, I thought back through everything I had read in the past. “I thought the idea of deliberately having multiple, distinct identities was… a story, honestly.”

“Even in your own past, it was discovered that the human brain can host two distinct personalities with no difficulty, Wisdom,” Miys admonished. “These species, however, are uniquely adapted so that, along with the memory implant, they suffer no actual combination or confusion of experiences. What their ancestor experienced is their ancestor’s memory, and what the person experiences is the person's memory. A person cannot overwrite an ancestral core. Only speak to it.”

“Can humans do that?” Sam asked, dazed in wonder at this new revelation.

“Not yet,” Miys responded. “But I do insist on the word ‘yet’, as you were never meant to do many of the things you do now.”

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[octopusunoreverse]

Analysing ‘where the wild things are’ by Maurice Sendak in more detail

The 338 children picture book for children written and illustrated by Maurice Sendak, id assume for children around the ages 3-7, directed towards boys, mostly directed messy boys.  The book has also has inspired and been adapted into several different things such as an animated short film, an opera peace a live action film which was directed by Spike Jonze and co-written by Dave Eggers, who wrote the novelisation of Maurice Sendak’s classic.  Sendak book ‘where the wild things are’ won the Caldecott medal from the children’s librarians in 1964 saying it was ‘most distinguished American picture book for children’ and not only was voted the number one picture in 2012 survey of school library journal readers multiple times.

Looking into the book in more detail than I probably should for a children’s book

The book focused on a young boy around the age of 5-7 named Max. max himself is a strange child who dresses up in a wolf costume (implying that he himself is much like a wild animal) he is a mischievous child who unleashes havoc around his house, coming across as someone who has little sympathy or comprehensive about the world or the people he affects with is actions for example he hammers the wall with a hammer (god knows where he got it) , and chases his dog around with a fork taunting them with his behaviour, which lands him in his bedroom without supper by his mum  after he threatened to Eat her and when after being sent to his room he uses his imagination to create a world where he could be a wild he wanted , this comes in the form of a forest (which also reflects on the fact that he is wild much like the wolf costume) this forest slowly grows all around rooting from things from his own bedroom like the bed and door frame as well as the carpet changing into grass , the interesting thing about max himself in these particular is when he first starts imagining the world around him changing the expression residing  on his face is at rest much similar to someone sleeping, which is probably most likely because that’s the only way I can see the world he makes being so real to him, but I haven’t been a child in a long time so I cant possible remember how truly strong a child’s imagination can be and I consider myself as quite imaginative so who knows.  When the forest as completely grown around him, he wonders off and finds a privet boat for himself, which might point to the idea that he’s a lonely child, the boat being a form of travel could be a hint at Max’s using this imaginational world as a form of escapism from the world.   When he talks about how his journey taking ‘weeks and almost a year’ which most likely refers to how easily bored children can get, which is probably why it escalates on to the next part of the story, thought looking back at Max’s expression slowly progress from a smug smile, to a concerned/surprised face from seeing the first ‘wild thing’  and then declines into a fed up/ grumpy expression when I finally arrives on the place where the wild things are. The wild things themselves are thoroughly large creators that resemblance of animals, predators in most cases with the horns, and claws (that all the wild things have) but they have a similar attitude to Max in the beginning of the book there mischievous and tend to cause havoc, Max tames them by yelling ‘BE STILL!’  and scares them with a magic trick (which we don’t see an actual magic trick but I assume magic trick refers to the fact that Max was able to instil that fear into the wild things), but with the wild things astonished by Max declare him the most wild of all and so crowned him king of the wild things , both crown and sceptre included (which is one of the most confusing things to find on a island full of monsters) Max with this new found position of power declares that they all start a wild rumpus (which I learnt meant a noisy or violent disturbance; commotion or uproar which I think is a fitting word) they perform quite animalistic things like howling and screeching at the moon, swinging from trees and parading their king around. Till ones again Max’s grows bored and send the wild things to bed without their supper, much like what his mother did to him, which could be him talking his anger about the situation out of them. But on the subject of the wild things, looking at them on a deeper leave one could say these wild things are a sort of a reflection of his own attitude, and from seeing that from the other side it’s very easy bored of yourself, and I think by spending time with them Max sees this behaviour and is able to reflect on his attitude towards his mother, which would make a person crave social contact with someone else; in this case Max wants his mother, it is then implied that he smells food (which is mum ended up leaving for him, while he was asleep) and with that he decided to retire from being king of the wild things and return home (wake up). But the wild things didn’t like that and so they cried and pleaded for him not to leave, superficially the quote “oh please don’t go- we’ll eat you up- we love you so!” this quote is very similar to what Max says to his own mother at the start of the story, but this time were introduced to the part that says ‘ we love you so ‘ which gives us a clearer idea of what Max means when he says ‘I’ll eat you up’ is Max’s way of endearment and love. Max makes his way back home, his specific expression in this part of the book ones again reflects someone who is sleeping ones again while he makes his trip back, and when he finally makes it back he looks like he just woke up as he makes his way to eat as the book ends.

Now after finally looking at the book completely I feel like I have a better understanding of the original book and broken it down, I get a fell of why this book was parsed as highly as it is. It’s quite an outstanding story and can quickly get the wheels in your brain working when thinking of creative ideas, it honestly keeps reminding me of the cartoon called ‘Over the garden wall’ which as a similar way of telling a story, and style  and this whimsical felling and its sill set in reality with that scenes of reality much like  Sendak stories.

[aliceslantern]

Beyond this Existence: New Life, short 25--Visitors

Recovery is a tedious, nonlinear process. Demyx, Ienzo, and the others living in Radiant Garden's castle have to learn to come to terms with their pasts and their memories, learn to grow, and begin to understand what, exactly, it means to be human. While there is unexpected joy in this, there is also unexpected sorrow. A series of oneshots set after Beyond this Existence.

Current short: “Visitors.”  Demyx meets someone who also has an ancient legacy, and comes to a realization about his past.

Read it on FF.net/on AO3

---

The day Aqua visited them was warm and sunny, probably the last really nice day of the summer. While he didn’t show it outwardly, Demyx could tell that Ienzo was excited. He’d been reading less about the sciences, more about magic and magic theory. The titles he read were more of a guide to his mood than the expressions on his face, Demyx was learning.

Demyx, on the other hand, was an anxious mess.

Maybe seeing Ienzo collapse and writhe in pain had traumatized him more than he thought. He was healthy and well now, and though Demyx knew logically that Ienzo would be fine, in Aqua’s very capable hands, Demyx asked if he could come along, “you know, to watch.” And to be emergency medical assistance. He bolstered this idea by adding, “I think it might help me with my healing, to learn about the other aspects of magic.” This was sufficient enough distraction.

They met her down on the outskirts of town, where the city hesitantly gave way to open expanses of rocks. Demyx had never spoken to Aqua, at least not more than superficially via their phones. She was taller than Demyx expected, and smiled easily. “It’s been so long since I’ve been here,” she said to greet them. “It was so pretty when we flew over. I think soon things will be back to the way they were.”

Ienzo smiled. “Thanks for doing this.”

“Oh, it’s no trouble at all. Ven was getting a little stir crazy anyway, so it’s good for us to get out of there every now and again.” She shook Ienzo’s hand, then looked to Demyx. “It’s nice to actually meet you in person.”

“...You too,” he said.

“Are you also my student?” she asked, a playful smile on her face.

“I wanted to watch. There’s not much going on today.” He shrugged, and felt bad for lying.

“Well then, watch away. Alright. Maybe you should come over here, Ienzo, where the light’s better.”

Demyx sat and rested on the stone. For a long while Aqua and Ienzo just talked, and Demyx realized that there probably wouldn’t be much physically going on in this lesson. He relaxed a little, and looked at Kingstagram for a little while to kill the time. He was pretty sure that they wouldn’t appreciate any impromptu concerts.

“Oh, hey. I was hoping you’d be here.” The voice was familiar-yet-not, and Demyx’s head snapped up.

The name caught under his tongue. Roxas. No, this wasn’t Roxas, of course. He was smiling too hard to be Roxas. Ven just looked like him. Or did Roxas look like Ven? A spool of memory threatened in him, but before he could puzzle why, the boy reached for his hand.

“I’m Ventus. Call me Ven. I don’t think we’ve actually really met.”

“...No. Not really.”

The boy plopped down next to Demyx. He couldn’t help but stare. The resemblance was uncanny, but the way they bore themselves was not; Ven’s posture was much looser and more open than Roxas’s, and his eyes were just a touch closer to green than Roxas’s blue.

“I’m sorry, but I’m having some wicked deja vu right now,” he admitted.

Ventus laughed. “That’s okay. I know you worked with Roxas. It still freaks me out too, a little.”

Demyx tried to smile. “You said you were hoping to run into me.”

Ven tapped his fingers into the dirt. “Well, I guess I had some questions.”

“About Roxas? I don’t think I’m the best authority on that. You should ask Lea or Xion. Or, like, Roxas himself.”

Ven shook his head. “Ienzo told me you’re from the past. Like fairy tale times.”

There it was again, that itchy sensation in the back of his mind, uncomfortable and almost painful. “Uh, yeah. I am.”

“And that you also remember it.”

He took a deep breath. “Yeah, I… I do.”

Ven hesitated, his look darkening somewhat. “I’m from then too. That’s what Chirithy told me.”

Something like a pained noise left his mouth. The memories washed over him, pieces he hadn’t previously remembered clearly with the battering ram of trauma. “You were one of the union leaders,” Demyx gasped. “After--”

“After the first war,” Ven admitted sadly. “You really remember everything before that?”

“Yeah.” His heart was beating so fast. “Do you… do you remember any of it?”

“It feels like a dream, mostly,” Ven said. “Like… I almost remember, I can see it in my head, but there’s… there’s nothing. Chirithy has been helping me with that. I want to know who I was. And how it made me who I am now. You know?”

“I do know.” Demyx was reeling. “I thought I… I was the only one left.” With Lauriam, Elrena, and Luxord’s Somebody missing in action, he was all alone, at least in that sense.

Ven shook his head. “You know, I almost think I remember you,” he said. “You were in Aced’s union, and then--”

“Ephemer’s,” Demyx said. It was all so hazy, so weird, as if it were physically hard to remember. Which it was, because the Foretellers had overwritten it all; both sets, actually. Perhaps it was only Ienzo’s magic that gave him access to this.  

“You weren’t supposed to remember,” Ven said. His eyes were watery. “We wanted to take that pain away--She said it was the right thing to do--”

“It’s not your fault, Ven. My mind’s probably just weird.”

He sniffed. “I know.”

“...You said Chirithy is helping you. You still have one?”

Ven frowned. “You don’t?”

“They were… killed.” He’d been so overwhelmed when his memories returned that he never properly mourned that loss.

“I’m sorry.” He seemed at a loss for what to say. “Do you want to see them?”

“I think I do.”

“Alright. Can you come out?” Ven asked the open air.

There was a puff of white smoke… and there they were.

The Chirithy looked exactly like Demyx remembered. Its blue, quasi-embroidered eyes. Its shorn gray fur.

Demyx felt tears against his face, hot and insistent.

“Oh, I’m sorry, are you okay?” the Chirithy asked.

“Yeah, it’s just… it is so good to see you. I didn’t think I’d ever see one of you again.”

They were nonplussed. “Well I’m here now.”

He laughed. “I guess you are.”

They toddled over to him. “I remember your Chirithy,” they said. “We were… we were good friends.”

“I miss them.”

“I do too.” They seemed to think for a minute. “But don’t be sad! Think about how amazing it is that we’re all here together now.”

“I guess it is something.” He dabbed at the tears. “Ienzo would say it’s mathematically impossible.”

“Not much is impossible if you’re determined enough,” they said.

Demyx nodded. “Yeah. You’re right.”

They must’ve talked for hours.

The more he spoke with Ven, and with the Chirithy, the clearer things were becoming. Hidden in all the pain were odd moments of joy, friends in common. They reminisced about the old worlds, talked at length about the Foretellers, the way Ven's eyes would flash as the pieces came together. Demyx didn’t realize how much time had passed until a shadow fell over them.

“Look at you two, getting along like a house on fire,” Aqua said. She smiled. “Ven… is something of a friend collector.”

Ven shrugged. “We have a lot more in common than we thought.”

Ienzo joined them. He was a bit mussed, a bit sweaty, and Demyx stood. “Are you okay?” he asked.

“I’m fine. Just a little tired.”

“No headaches? No chest pain?”

He squeezed Demyx’s hand. “I assure you I’m fine. I told Aqua about the situation.”

“She’s nothing if not practical,” Ven added.

She rolled her eyes. “Only because I lived with you two goofs for so long.”

Demyx noticed Ienzo’s gaze, which had fallen onto the Chirithy sleeping on Ven’s lap. He caught Demyx’s eye, then nodded once in understanding.

“Are you two hungry?” Aqua asked. “We’re taking a dinner break.”

---

Aqua and Ven stayed for little over a week. There was plenty of room for them at the castle, and Demyx found they were more known than he thought--Aeleus and Dilan both recognized them. Even shared the same fascination with Ven as he previously did with Demyx, running his DNA. Seeing it there, on paper, that they were from the same time--that this wasn’t some huge lie he’d subconsciously come up with--felt weird, to say the least.

Demyx’s paranoia about Ienzo’s health had thankfully been misplaced--Aqua was exceedingly cautious. There were a few days in that clearing of centering exercises, days where he and Ven continued to get to know each other. Sometimes the Chirithy also hung out with them, but for the most part Chirithy did what they wanted.

“I’m bored,” Ven said after the third day or so of this. “Come on. Let’s spar.”

Demyx froze. “What?”

“It’ll be fun!” he insisted.

“Fun.” Demyx shook his head. “I’m okay, thanks.”

Ven frowned. “We wouldn’t hurt each other.”

“I know, I know that. I just. I try not to summon it if I don’t have to.”

Ven sat back down in the dirt, thinking hard about this. “Why?”

“I don’t… I don’t like it.”

The more he tried to explain himself, the more Ven seemed confused.

“It’s just…” Demyx swallowed some excess spit. “I can’t help but associate it with violence. With people dying. I didn’t get to forget, like you. I didn’t have a Master Eraqus.”

Ven thought about this for a long time. “It’s like… any other symbol,” he conceded. “Like… it’s an object that could be awful or great, or just in the middle somewhere. But it… it is part of you, whether you want it to be or not.”

Demyx felt his eyes watering and blinked it back. He was not going to cry in front of a sixteen-year-old. Again.

“I think you can make it into something good,” Ven said. “Another part of yourself that’s worth liking, instead of ignoring. You know? And that doesn’t mean you have to ever summon or use it.”

He said it so simply, but to Demyx it was a revelation that months of therapy hadn’t been able to penetrate. “Oh god, you’re right,” he said. He’d been working too hard to ignore his past, to write it off, to create himself without it. But he just couldn’t. “Wow.”

Ven cocked his head. “You okay?”

“No, I’m… I’m good, actually. It’s just…” He chuckled weakly. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for someone to tell me that.”

He smiled. “Happy to do it.”

Demyx glanced over to Ienzo and Aqua, and found Ienzo staring back at him, a simple fire spell crackling around his hands. He gave him a thumbs-up, and Ienzo grinned.

It seemed like they’d both found something they’d needed.