#ghost talker's daydream

[xenosagaepisodeone]

[prismuffin]

Masterlist 2:

Full Fanfic Masterlist

--

Marvel:

How Peter Parker and Steve Rogers react to their crush asking to play with their hair

Hobie Brown helping trans!male!Reader with dysphoria Hobie Brown reminding ftm!Reader not to overbind Hobie Brown turning into a cat and causing chaos in the SpiderSociety

How Miles Morales acts on a rooftop date with another hero Miles Morales reacting to grieving reader Miles Morales being caught wearing his guy crushes hoodie Miles Morales reacting to his crush suddenly asking him out in the middle of a normal conversation Miles Morales with a younger!sister!reader

Platonic!Miguel O'Hara comforting transmale reader after a breakdown Miguel O'Hara reacting to reader coming out as trans (ftm)

Miles Morales and Hobie Brown (separate) reacting to male!Reader with brain issues Miles Morales and Hobie Brown (separate) reacting to male!Reader getting a good grade on an exam

Pavitr Prabhakar and german!male!Reader bonding by learning about each other's cultures

SpiderTeens reacting to gn reader adopting them all

Stranger Things:

Nothing yet!

The Umbrella Academy:

Nothing yet!

Criminal Minds:

Nothing yet!

Hitman Trilogy:

Nothing yet!

Mission: Impossible:

Ethan Hunt reacting to his son being a part of the syndicate

FarCry 5:

Nothing yet!

Valorant:

Nothing yet!

Detroit Become Human:

Connor helping male!trans!reader with testosterone shots Connor helping gn!Reader calm down from a panic attack Connor with a s/o who's a maladaptive daydreamer Connor with an insomniac s/o Connor with a s/o who's a wild/active sleeper

Our Life Beginnings & Always:

Nothing yet!

Error 143:

Nothing yet!

Sally Face:

Nothing yet!

WatchDogs Trilogy:

Nothing yet!

COD: Modern Warfare2:

John Price dealing with being a sleep talker

Konig reacting to short!male!Reader climbing him like a tree to see something Konig reacting to short!male!Reader being on his shoulders^^Part 2

Ghost, Konig, and Price (separate) reacting to male!Reader with dermatillomania Ghost and Konig (separate) reacting to having to cuddle up to male!Reader for warmth Ghost and Konig waking up to cuddling male!Reader ^^Part 2 Ghost and Konig (separate) having M!Reader be their gay awakening

The Imperfects:

Nothing yet!

Encanto:

Nothing yet!

Girl From Nowhere:

Nothing yet!

Metal Lords:

Nothing yet!

Dc Universe:

Batfam being jealous of the readers pet/animal Batboys reacting to Tim Drake's "bad-boy" boyfriend Taking care of Batboys (seperately) after they got their wisdom teeth removed Batboys reacting to boyfriend!Reader smacking their ass and running away Batboys + Conner & Wally being caught wearing masc!Readers hoodie Batfam reacting to Tim Drakes boyfriend who is the Jokers son ^^Batfam reacting to Tim Drakes boyfriend who is the Jokers son pt2^^ Batboys reacting to getting hard during training with M!Reader Anthro!Batboys having their ears and tail expose their romantic feelings for male!reader Batfam reacting to Tim Drake making a contract with a demon!male!reader BatBoys reacting to them thinking male!reader called them a goodboy

Sugar Daddy!Bruce Wayne accidentally falling for male!sugar-baby!reader Bruce Wayne with an energetic anti-hero husband

Conner Kent accidentally using X-ray vision on trans!male reader

Male!Justice League members reacting to rogue!reader moving out of Gotham and into their city

Jason Todd reacting to male reader falling asleep on him Jason Todd reacting to a gn reader who can't swim Injured!Jason Todd waking up to Reader in his hospital room

Damian Wayne with a child!brother!Reader Damian Wayne being caught wearing his guy crushes hoodie

Dick Grayson reacting to a very cuddly male reader Dick Grayson waking up his cuddly guy crush Dick Grayson reacting to a sad!male!Reader needing cuddles

Hal Jordan's (Green Lantern) reaction to reader having a lot of lantern rings Hal Jordan (Green Lantern) x recovering!male!Readers Hal Jordan reacting to being bitten by masc!alien!Reader

John Constantine reacting to a food-pusher Reader John Constantine with a werewolf s/o (gn reader) Hungover!John Constantine waking up in a caring Readers bed John Constantine reacting to a male!Reader that reminds him of his younger self ^part 2. John Constantine reacting to similar!male!Reader reading his soul John Constantine being bullied by a cat in a pub John Constantine reacting to a Reader that smokes John Constantine having a demon!Reader be attached to him John Constantine reacting to reader being turned into a baby John Constantine reacting to male!Rader lighting his cigarette with John's

Kid Flash (Wally West) reacting to accidentally courting alien!reader Kid Flash (Wally West) with a night owl boyfriend Kid Flash (Wally West) accidentally petting one of winged!male!Readers arousal zones Kid Flash (Wally West) and winged!male!Reader finally getting together Kid Flash (Wally West) cudding male!naga!Reader Kid Flash (Wally West) with a partner who's part of the BatFamily

Tim Drake reacting to guy crush reader accidentally cuddling him Tim Drake reacting to Rogue!Reader flustering him Tim Drake with a caring and patient boyfriend Tim Drake with a boyfriend who's very physically affectionate

How Superman, Batman, Hal Jordan, The Flash, and John Constantine react to someone handing them the unconscious reader out of the blue How Batman and Superman reacting to their long-term partner being their worst enemy How Batman, Superman, Hal Jordan, and The Flash would react to gn magic user reader using a gun out of nowhere

How Wally West, John Constantine, Hal Jordan, Dick Grayson, and Conner Kent react to falling asleep on their crush (male reader) How Wally West, Dick Grayson, Tim Drake, and Conner Kent taking care of their drunk guy crush How Dick Grayson, Wally West, Tim Drake and Conner Kent react to playing seven minutes in heaven with their guy crush How Dick Grayson, Tim Drake, and John Constantine react to their crush asking to play with their hair How Tim Drake and Damian Wayne react to their crush randomly asking them out in the middle of a conversation (seperate) How Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Wally West and Conner Kent (sperately) react to Alien!Panther!Male!Reader cuddling up to them randomly

How Justice League boys react to empathic color!alien reader turning pink around them How Justice League boys react to male!Reader being turned into a cat How the Young Justice League reacts to a male!Reader with an Eating Disorder

—

Back to directory;

[royalsunshinehotel]

The Kid (SFW Alphabet)

SFW alphabet template

A/N: two days until we meet the Kid 🐒🐒🐒🐒

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

He's not the most affectionate boy, he's got a vendetta he hasn't got the time. if he did feel comfortable enough to show affection, I think it would be minor, like leaving notes for you if he wakes up before you do.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

The Kid is a solid best friend, if not a bit weird. You actually have a reputation for feeding stray cats in the neighborhood, and one day, you catch him taking some of the cat food for himself.

Unacceptable. You take him in and share some scraps you brought home from your job at a kitchen in the hotel. It's undying loyalty after that.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

I fear the Kid loves cuddling. He's erring on the side of 'touch-starved', so when the two of you get more physically intimate, he'll have to have skin-to-skin contact as much as possible. I can see the two of you in bed, and he'd rather pick you up and take you with him than have to go do a random chore by himself.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

He's a survivor, first and foremost. He's never let himself think more than 2 days ahead of what he's doing at that present moment. If he had the luxury of daydreaming, he'd be married to you already. But he doesn't, so he won't.

I think he's alright with cooking, and okay with cleaning. He's hardly ever home to do it, though.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

He would ghost. Not before staring sadly at you, and making sure you 'know' what he's doing [leaving for good]. He's not a big talker, but he won't leave you in the dark.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Getting married is for rich people, he's just gonna stay with you forever and be yours.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

He's more rigid and businesslike when you start going together, but you've got to show him about being gentle- lead by example.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

The Kid is a stranger to hugs, but once you introduce him to the delights of physical contact, he's all about it. He hugs you hello/goodbye, and if you guys are ever out with friends, he'll be hanging off you too. His hugs can range from intense, to comfortable- like he's trying to be a favorite sweater or hoodie.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

The Kid doesn't say it until the two of you are in a situation where he thinks he might not get the chance to say it to you again. 🥺

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

He gets pretty jealous, but he doesn't do much about it unless you give him a signal that you want out of the situation. He loves you, and he trusts your mind.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

I worry that his kisses are either soft and chaste, or absolutely firey and all-consuming. It depends on the day he's had - you're somehow always surprised. He likes to kiss your lovely mouth and your forehead. He's a fan of when you go after the area by his ear, he's absolutely weak for it (and you).

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

I think he is pretty comfortable. He's kind of the type that can observe even the smallest details, but kids are perceptive - and can tell he's not a threat. 👁️👁️

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

I think he likes to sleep in. 'Early' for him is like 9am-10, but this is only because he's out until 2-3am. Things are slow, comfortable, and the two of you like your long mornings together.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)\

I think he's usually at work, depending on what you do, whether you're working with him, or nearby. It's pretty bright and busy in the city at night, and he likes to be at least one block away from you at all times, in case you need him (or he needs you).

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

I truly think he's never gonna do that. You know him by his actions, and by how he treats you and makes you feel. Maybe you'll get a first name one day, but that's not the main goal for the two of you right now.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

I feel like he's not the type to fly off the handle unless he's been sitting on it for fifteen years, and he's planning to assassinate his mother's murderer, it's okay. Like anger really isn't in his daily range of emotion.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

I suppose it depends on how chatty you are with him. I think if it's words you say- he might as well get it tattooed on his chest. We know that Kid has a sharp memory, and this applies to you, the same as everything else.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship

I think it's gotta be the time you formally asked him on a date. Once again, I think he maybe forgot he didn't say yes verbally. He just kind of stared at you, until you said "yes?" It was the first time in the long time he hadn't been stuck in his head in a long time.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Oh you guys are young and poor in a big bad city, he's so protective it's almost embarrassing if it wasn't warranted. He's very much the type who would want you to have a gun or weapon with you (and he'd show you how to use it), as well as possibly putting a tracking app on your phone (and you his, ofc). He doesn't want protection!!! He wants to protect you !!! Ahhh!!!

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

I think once he gets a grip on what a 'date' and 'relationship' is, he's all about it. He'll be writing, making lists, and making sure he has things organized how he wants it, because he loves you ! And this is what you do for people you love!

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

He needs to stop leaving piles all over the apartment. Piles of towels, piles of clothes, piles of groceries. This man needs to learn to put things away!

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

I think he probably hasn't seen himself in like a year. He's seen himself in reflections in the kitchen, but other than minding his hair and making sure there aren't any knots, he's not really concerned with his looks or general well-being at all.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Oh, you're a part of his soul. He didn't realize it, but you were always there.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

We see a little of this in the trailer, but i do think that Kid has a gang of street cats that he feeds. They love him and they tend to group up when he's around. They follow him home, they watch in the dark whenever he's out. The cats love kid.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

I think he's perceptive and he won't enjoy someone extroverted. Careless or malicious with your actions is a big no as well.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

I don’t know how else to say it, but I think majority of the nights, he’s the little spoon. In some form, you’ve got to have your arms around him.

[glitter-troublewind]

A Poetic/Confusing phrase People should describe you by...

Aries sun: sunrise Aries moon: Dimension Aries rising: in their feelings

Taurus sun: that Taurus moon: Hypnosis Taurus rising: breaking all the rules

Gemini sun: Sedona Gemini moon: mouth Gemini Rising: hidden in the sand

Cancer sun: frightful Cancer moon: Girlfriend Cancer rising: of reference

Leo sun: moonage Leo moon: houdini Leo rising: the greatest

Virgo sun: Daydream Virgo moon: love Virgo rising: let me go

Libra sun: Muffled Libra moon: Outlaw Libra rising: of small death

Scorpio sun: Alaska Scorpio moon: Mind Scorpio rising: at the disco

Sagittarius sun: Dangerous Sagittarius moon: Mercury Sagittarius rising: sees ghosts

Capricorn sun: green Capricorn moon: talker Capricorn rising: Goes away

Aquarius sun: Dandelion Aquarius moon: beat Aquarius rising: shut down

Pisces sun: Ballad Pisces moon: change Pisces Rising: slowed

[plastidecor]

sorry to bother but who is the artist of your pfp?

Hi, its not a bother! it's one of the covers of a manga called "Ghost Talker's Daydream"

it is NOT good by any means. but i also like it. It's a guilty pleasure... heed the warnings if you want to check it out

heres some other covers i also like from it

[chibiranmaruchan]

7 of my favourite anime moments for this week (14th September-20th September 2020)

Monday 14th September: Ghost talker's daydream (2004)- Ai learns how Miku died and watches Miku and her sister pass on.

Tuesday 15th September: Under the dog (2016)- Hana and Shunichi retreat to the gym equipment storage room, where she explains the purpose of the Flowers and their hopes in him.

Wednesday 16th September: Legend of the dragon kings (1991-1993)- Tsuzuku transforms into the red dragon, while held captive by Lady L.

Thursday 17th September: Be-boy kidnapp'n idol (1989)- Akihiko tells Kazuya that he feels like he has been left behind for his dreams and promises to protect him.

Friday 18th September: The Hakkenden (1990-1993)- Shino, Genpachi, Kobungo and Daihachi seek refuge at the beach after leaving Kobungo's inn to travel to find the missing dog warriors.

Saturday 19th September: Ai city (1986)- J, under Lee's orders, deploys E and Rian to fight Kei and capture Ai.

Sunday 20th September: Gundress (1999)- The Angel Arms company protect Hassan from Jean-Luc, as he attacks Hassan's home city looking for him.

[baddiedaddy7]

💚🐸𝙈𝙚𝙧𝙘𝙪𝙧𝙮 𝙎𝙞𝙜𝙣𝙨🐸💚

𝗔𝗿𝗶𝗲𝘀

attention span is not long. may ditch old ideas, if they get bored, or find something more interesting. HAS to win an argument. may think being the louder one during an argument is the way to win lmao. talks in a dynamic way. argumentive. may make a good public speaker. may text too fast, and mess up on a few words. communication style is aggressive(always has to be right, loud, might scapegoat, etc). humor may be childish(fart jokes, butt jokes, burp jokes, just dumb shit in general lol), or humor that involves getting injured(hitting your head on something, tripping, etc). slapstick humor

𝗧𝗮𝘂𝗿𝘂𝘀

great attention span, but may be a slow learner or talker. talks with stability/most likely doesn’t stutter. doesn’t mind staying on the same topic/not changing the subject. like aries, in an argument they will rarely admit they were wrong, hard-headed. arguing with these ppl are the worst, since they don’t allow others to have opinions which is annoying asf(my sister has this lmao, and i have a taurus mars, so you could imagine💀). your mind rarely changes, once made up. not the most open minded. talks with practicality. may type slow tbh lmao, and dry. may also take a century to reply. communication style may be passive aggressive(may not like being straightforward, “i didn’t think you’d pass this class, but good job”, etc) humor may be well written skits, or roasts.

𝗚𝗲𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗶

attention span is fleeting. curious about numerous of things. may stutter thanks to gemini jittery energy. rarely turns down a debate, might even lie in a disagreement to win😃. first to speak if it’s too quiet for too long. type of person to have random knowledge or may know fun facts. talks with wit. types fast, replies fast, just very active on social media. meme user. sends messages in short patches instead of just one big paragraph. communication style is passive aggressive(may mumble under breath, etc). humor may be random. may love puns.

𝗖𝗮𝗻𝗰𝗲𝗿

attention span is good, esp if it’s topics they feel with. may be bias in an argument between other ppl😬. may want to “hug” it out lmao. may like to talk abt emotional topics. talks with care. probably uses emojis a lot. writes paragraphs/in long sentences. communication style varies tbh😭. i’m just gonna do passive-aggressive(backhanded compliments, talks behind your back instead of confronting you) or assertive(expressing your wants and needs, while considering others feelings). inside jokes are your thing, goofy asf with ppl you’re comfortable with. dry humor

𝗟𝗲𝗼

attention span may be short lived. may only talk abt themselves which can be annoying💀. believe it or not, they may take a calm/chill approach in an argument. overdramatic in their speech. talks with confidence. keeps the conversation interesting/not dry. initiator in group chats. usually replies fast. communication style is assertive(uses “i”, knows their worth, etc). playful name calling is their type of humor.

𝗩𝗶𝗿𝗴𝗼

attention span may not be that good tbh(like their opposite sign, they daydream off into the distance). talks with practicality. make sure to fact check, when arguing with these ppl, or they may verbally violate you. very nit picky ppl, and may be big complainers. may abbreviate a lot of words lmao. another dry texting placement, and rarely uses emojis. communication style is passive aggressive(throws shade lmao, may like to just go with the flow, etc). may make fun of yourself to get laughs. might like humor that criticizes/makes fun of things/ppl in general. their humor has some truth to it😓.

𝗟𝗶𝗯𝗿𝗮

attention span is usually good. easy going in speech. talks with equality. can also be charismatic. may ppl please. in arguments, they can try to compromise, and fix everything, even when it’s unfixable. dislikes conflict, and may need to learn to embrace them. may dislike ppl that curse a lot, or are loud. the way you text may be unclear to some. also texting isn’t direct, and may use things like “k” or “nice”. communication style is passive(lacks eye contact, doesn’t want any conflict even though they feel some type of way, etc). another placement that likes well written jokes, and may have a strong dislike for dark/inappropriate humor lol.

𝗦𝗰𝗼𝗿𝗽𝗶𝗼

attention span is attentive. you’re not easy to read, and it can take time to truly know you. you may over analyze and get suspicious over the dumbest things. observant, and might be into psychology. in arguments, doesn’t tolerate dumb shit. can be a bit of a ghost when it comes to texting. tries to get in your business and asks random shit. might not text too much info, since they don’t want ppl to screenshot the chat lmao. assertive is your communication style(considers others feelings, uses “i”, etc) or aggressive(yells, tries to intimidate you, etc). humor may be dark, offensive, and/or taboo/inappropriate. sexual jokes.

𝗦𝗮𝗴𝗶𝘁𝘁𝗮𝗿𝗶𝘂𝘀

attention span is actually good, if they’re interested, if not then it’s non existent. either rlly open or rlly closed minded. you may mistake being blunt for being honest or some ppl may mistake your realness for being rude. talks with rowdiness. in arguments, may be hostile. uses “:), </3” instead of “😃💔” in text. but then again, may use actual emojis a bit. communication style is aggressive(loud, doesn’t consider others feelings, etc). humor may be mocking accents, sarcasm, and/or satire.

𝗖𝗮𝗽𝗿𝗶𝗰𝗼𝗿𝗻

attention span is short, if what you’re talking abt isn’t important to us. fluent in atleast 2 languages, which are sarcasm, and facts. we don’t have time or patience for ignorance. we may come off as standoffish, when in reality we just stick to ourselves or we’re just too honest. talks with common sense. talking is soothing, atleast i’ve been told. i feel like we use facts in an argument more than emotions, but me personally i try to include both(this is my placement :)). probably doesn’t use caps in text. may have a lot of ppl on delivered. reply game varies based on person, only replies fast to important ppl. communication style is most likely assertive(has a backbone, stands up for themselves without being loud, etc). humor is satire, dark/offensive, and/or sarcastic. if you have tiktok, you definitely know abt satire humor LMAO.

𝗔𝗾𝘂𝗮𝗿𝗶𝘂𝘀

attention span is only good if they care. says random things. takes forever to reply. talks with detachment. observant. in arguments, probably doesn’t think of others feelings, and just says whatever. may be harsh in arguing. another placement that probably uses this “<3, :), etc” instead of “❤️😃”. may ghost your messages. communication style is passive aggressive(talks shit behind your back, may not care to confront others, etc). surreal humor, humor is eccentric lol. may like adult animated shows

𝗣𝗶𝘀𝗰𝗲𝘀

attention span isn’t good, since they daydream a lot. might say personal stuff in accident. relatable. great listeners. talks with warm heartedness. cool in arguments, and will stand up for what they feel is right if necessary. another placement that may use emojis a lot. texting may be emotional. shitty grammar. communication style is passive(goes with the flow, bad eye contact/body language, hates drama, etc). another placement that makes jokes abt sex. may joke abt drugs(other ppl doing it or themselves, or ppl acting like their on drugs lmao)

please keep in mind that other things will affect certain traits, like your moon sign. don’t plagiarize, and have a good day🤍

[unknown-aisling]

"𝐌𝐢𝐫𝐚"

“A reflection is unique to every person when their hearts speak louder than their thoughts.”

Mira is a second year student at Night Raven College. An odd girl who harbored no name and lived in a glass prison until her mirror was given to a student at NRC and was set free.

》 𝐓𝐄𝐂𝐇𝐍𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

Full Name: "Mira"

Other Name(s):

Mimi (Yuu, Kalim, Mr. Kowalski)

Miri (NRC)

The Looking Glass (Emyr Gethin & Previous Caretakers)

Moonglade (Pen Pal)

》 𝐁𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

Gender: Female

Age: Unknown (Chronologically), 17 (Physically)

Birthday: Unknown

Starsign: Unknown

Homeland: Unknown

Family:

Unknown Mother

Unknown Father

Unknown Caretakers

Emyr Gethin (Previous Caretaker)

》 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐅𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐒

Dorm: Pomefiore (Canonically), Ramshackle (Yuuichi)

School Year: 2nd

Class: 2-A

Occupation: Student

Club: None

Best Subject: Art

》 𝐅𝐔𝐍 𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐒

Dominant Hand: Right

Favorite Food: Red velvet cake with white chocolate mousse

Least Favorite Food: Stale Food

Dislikes: Being useless and worthless

Hobby: Glass Sculpting

Talents: Visual storytelling through stained glass

》 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘

A rather soft-spoken lady who prefers the company of a few people and literature over a crowd. While appearing distant from others, she is actually quite introverted and doesn't know how to properly speak with new people without stumbling over her words after minutes into the conversation. In her eyes, the world is palette of colors varying from different shades depending on the person. She tries to be patient and think about options other than rushing in without hesitation, not wanting risk a glass arm. Other than her social skills being less than perfect, she is a relatively sweet person looking out for others and hopefully the good in people. Being a talker isn't her strong suit, as she prefers to write things down, but she's willing to lend an attentive ear for anyone who needs it. Even when running her small business of helping others, Mira carries an air of fairness when it comes to charging her customers despite how often her stomach rumbles in displeasure.

Although usually a kind-hearted person, she does have a bit of temper should someone get on her nerves, or even insult a friend of hers. Maybe a bit too rash, but sometimes she yeets a glass feather at that person's direction, not to hit them but frighten them at best. However, she might end up feeling ashamed and apologize through a letter because the words won't come of her mouth. There is also the insecurity of feeling uselessness whenever she couldn't help a soul, or the ghost of worthlessness haunting her because she was mistreated too often. But she never shows such thoughts on her face, concealing such pain with a picture perfect smile and joyous laugh because the scars from them run so deeply that they still make her bleed.

As for responsibilities, oddly enough with her constant daydreaming, she is at least a dependable person who "speaks" honestly about feedback and her personal opinions.

》 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐆𝐑𝐎��𝐍𝐃

No one really knows where Mira came from other than the fact she was trapped inside a beautiful antique for many years. However, a few truths have come forth and shed a bit of light on this glass mystery, telling very little but enough to knowledge. She bore no name other than "The Looking Glass" for majority of her life, and any memory of her childhood are severely blurred like constant ripples in water. Regardless whoever she might be, it is a known fact that she willing to lend a hand to whomever needs it for a reasonable price.

》 𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐐𝐔𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐂

Mira's Unique Magic is called "Desires Be Shown". It allows her to reflect someone's desire from glass and temporarily bring them to that location from exact memory, however, will be unable to interact with living beings for the time frame.

"Look within the looking glass, open your heart. Unveil your silent favor and let it be reflected in me... Desires Be Shown.."

》 𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐀

Mira has an obsessive habit of covering up her arms with long sleeved gloves, even when it's extremely hot outside. The reason behind this is currently unknown, however, many speculate she isn't comfortable wearing short sleeved shirts or dresses in the open.

Most of her previous wardrobe were ragged hand-me-downs until an overly generous man replaced them with high quality clothing. Her personal favorite is the bluebird themed half gown and harem pants because of a poem she read about the blue feathered avian.

Despite having a room with a cozy bed for herself, Mira never quite uses it and instead sleeps in her hand mirror unless she's grabbing something from her wardrobe or safe. Funnily enough, she tucks in the hand mirror before going to bed in it.

As she has difficulty expressing herself through words, Mira often sends gifts and a letter to people she wishes to befriend -- preferably at their dorm since confronting them personally is overwhelming for her own heart. Most of the time she's ignored, but for the few that took her offer of friendship, she's grateful for them.

When she isn't preparing for any dorm activities/routines, classes, or her small business, Mira frequently writes to a pen pal of hers called "Nightlight". From Rook's countless compliments, she is quite fond of the person and enjoys writing to them whenever she could.

She isn't a fan of shoes, or rather the shoes Vil gives her to wear with her outfit. To avoid wearing them, she alters her feet to appear as a bronze talons and floats around to get to her classes, or any location. This isn't full proof, however, as she still wears shoes during formal occasions and P.E.

She was given the name "Mira", a poorly made pun based off the fact she came out from a literal mirror. However, she didn't really mind since it was her first actual name other than "The Looking Glass".

》 𝐆𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑𝐘

𝙲𝚛𝚢𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝚁𝚎𝚏𝚕𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 (Half Body)

????? (Memory yet to be colored

[xenosagaepisodeone]

[haunthouse]

5 for the telephone siblings?

things you didn’t say at all / writing prompts. content warnings: strained sibling relationships, death, the identity issues that come with being an alternate. uh. this one got long and it got sad. also on ao3!

“Seb, you’re gonna wanna see this.”

It’s not a sentence that’s ever preceded anything good, in Sebastian’s experience, and there’s a small, petty part of him that wants to turn his back out of spite, say I will not look, walk out of the locker room and go home. His Steaks, the ones he was with three years ago, pointed at the decree results and said the same thing, moments before he was ripped between realities — and now, when these Steaks say Seb, he knows they aren’t talking to him but to the ghost of the Sebastian he replaced.

It gives him a headache if he thinks about it too much, makes something swirling-sick spark up in his gut. If he doesn’t think about it, it’s like he’s forgetting the world he left behind. There’s no good options, no happy medium, just static droning on and on under darkened skies.

August’s still staring at him, so he fights the urge to run away back with a stick and looks where she’s pointing. The TV mounted on the wall. It’s tuned to the splorts network, tuned to —

Canada. Moist Talkers versus Pies; their game of the day offset from the Steaks’, still going on an hour after the Steaks’ game had come to an end. He thinks August’s pulling a prank until the view switches to a shaky-cam close-up on a murder of crows so thick he can’t see past them, until they part, until out from the swarm steps his sister. She limps to the dugout, leaving the peanut shell in pieces on the field behind her — and despite the shakiness of her steps, she grins a movie-star grin directly into the nearest camera.

Sebastian feels sick.

***

It isn’t that he’s not happy for Jessica.

Sebastian imagines it isn’t fun to be trapped in a shell. Sebastian imagines it’s a little like being trapped in a shadow — not the shadows, like Townsend, but constantly ignored in favor of a sister or a god. Same thing, when it comes down to it.

Maybe that’s an unfair thing to think. Maybe comparing Jess to the god that trapped her there is cruel; maybe comparing himself to her is self-serving at best; maybe it doesn’t matter. The Steaks seemed shocked, when he appeared, that he didn’t fawn over his sister’s every move. Jess seemed shocked, too. Sebastian feels a little bad for whatever former version of himself was here — a version who didn’t seem to want anything more than being the second of two, the lesser Telephone twin.

He’s a little jealous, too. From the stories he’s heard, it seems like this version of himself and his sister were much closer; maybe he genuinely hadn’t minded being in her shadow, maybe he’d celebrated her. Maybe they hadn’t traded jabs every time they were on the field together and meant most of the awful things they said about each other. Maybe they’d actually loved each other; didn’t just say they did.

Sebastian — this Sebastian, the only one who’s here, the one who can’t stop thinking about how he’s not the right version of himself and not the right Telephone and his stats might be better than the old one but clearly that doesn’t actually matter to anyone else — hadn’t spoken to his Jessica in years, when he disappeared. When he was replaced with the other one, he can only assume.

He’d always kind of wondered what it would be like to have a sister he was friends with. They’d fought too much for that to ever be more than an idle daydream, one he would shake himself out of quickly — there was no use in it, even if it would be nice.

(Maybe he’s more than a little jealous.)

But — but — but. But here’s it’s in reach. Here Jess smiles at him when they pass each other on the field, even if it is always a little grief-tinged. He hasn’t been rude to her, but he also hasn’t been kind. He doesn’t call.

And when she’d been shelled, the Steaks had given him condolences like he was the Sebastian they used to know, even knowing he wasn’t. He’d been — not sad, not really, but something more complicated than that. The bitter joy of being the only Telephone mixed with the regret — his chance to reach out taken, too late, not enough, gone. She’d tried calling him a few times, back in season five, and he’d stopped answering the phone, let it ring once and hit end call, not even giving the illusion that he’d just missed it and would call back later — and maybe that was cruel, maybe that was just leftover animosity towards his Jessica, maybe he should have been kinder.

He’d assumed she wouldn’t be coming out of the shell, or that she would be someone else, when she did. The gods don’t do anything without consequence attached.

He hadn’t expected to feel grief at the thought.

Now that she’s back — and with a two-run homer on her first at-bat; he tries to steer his reaction more towards good job, Jess, away from showoff — all those swirled-together emotions make a model volcano somewhere in his gut, threatening to blow.

Sebastian fights back the urge to run, sits himself on one of the sofas in the stadium’s den and watches the game play out. The Steaks give him distance. He tugs at a loose thread on his jersey until there’s a hole in it; he’ll have to get Conner to help him sew it back together before the next game, but he keeps worrying at it anyways, because the harm is already done and he might as well. Jess hits a two-run homer and takes the Pies from losing to victory, and smiles even as she looks like she’s about to collapse.

Leach Herman, from the other sofa, as the TV drones on about the birds and the shell and the league’s star: “You gonna call her?”

Sebastian’s still blinking at Jess’ face on the TV. Takes a moment to process Herman’s words, and another to process that they’re said to him. “I don’t know,” he says.

The rest of the Steaks leave quickly. Game’s over; the excitement of an unshelling has calmed; the Garages’ game is over for the day, too, so no risk of beaning-related news filtering in. Home game means they can all go home. Sebastian still doesn’t know how to feel at home here, so he spends most of his time in the stadium; plays games on the den’s TVs when the rest of the team has filtered out, or reads the comics Greenlemon leaves scattered across the common areas.

Leach is an alternate twice-over, so she gets it more than most. Sometimes she sticks around. They tell each other about the places they came from.

(Her home sounds like a nightmare, and as such, she’s adjusted far better than he has to this new world. His wasn’t ideal, but he was happy there. He knew where he stood, there.)

“Far be it from me to tell you what to do,” she says, which means she’s about to tell him what to do. It’s hard to read her expression, but from the tilt of her head, she’s deep in thought for a moment before continuing. “But I saw you when she was shelled. That first moment, realizing what it meant, that she might be gone — I’ve lost a lot of people, Sebastian. You almost lost her, and didn’t realize it would hurt until it was done.”

“Wow,” Sebastian says. “Jesus, Leach. Are you a mind-reader or something?”

“Only sometimes,” she says, which, ominous. “You’re not very subtle, though. Your emotions show on your face.”

“Cool,” Sebastian says, half-sarcastic but too soft for it to come across.

“Think about it,” Leach says, standing up. “Her place on the idolboard has hardly shifted. It’s possible she’ll go back again at the end of this season.”

“I’ll think about it,” Sebastian says, and he means it.

***

The Steaks beat the Garages the next day, and the Pies win their own game in Charleston, and Sebastian hits the call button before he gives himself time to second-guess.

“Seb?”

Jess’ voice sounds the same as he remembers, from both his world and the Jess who’d called him after he’d been swapped. Jess’ voice sounds mostly the same, but it’s hoarse, like she was screaming the whole two months she was trapped. He wonders if anyone outside the shell would’ve heard, if she had been, and feels a pang of awful guilt for the thought.

“Hi, Jess,” he says, and wills his voice to stay steady, and half-succeeds. “I, uh. I saw you were back? And I wanted to say — uh, congratulations, I guess?”

“You called,” she says, slowly.

“Yeah,” he says. “I called.”

“Thank you,” she says, and it’s almost diplomatic, like she’s weighing her words before saying them, which — really, he hasn’t given her much reason not to. Another pang of guilt. “But why? It’s been — it’s been a while.”

(Echoes of that first time she’d called him after he’d been swapped, and had acted as if they talked constantly, had said she was worried when he hadn’t called to fill her in on the election results. He doesn’t remember exactly what he’d said, but it was something like Why are you calling me, Jess, you haven’t called me in five years. He’d hung up on her, then. He wonders what would have changed if he hadn’t.)

“I don’t know, I was just — I was thinking, while you were in there? I didn’t think I’d get another chance to talk to you. And I might not be the Sebastian you grew up with, but — I was never close to the Jess I grew up with, and I thought, it would’ve been nice, if I’d taken the chance to get close to you, when you offered.” He’s rambling. He’s not giving himself enough air between words; he takes a shaky breath, continues. “And now you’re out, and I just… thought I should say hi.”

There’s a moment of silence long enough that he checks to make sure she hasn’t hung up. The background-static of the call still thrums somewhere at the back of his skull, and her name is still written in bold letters on the screen of his phone.

“Sorry, it was — I was in there a while, I don’t know if I remember how to talk to people,” Jess says. “Hi. It’s good to hear your voice, Seb.”

There’s so much warmth to that single sentence that it makes him want to cry.

Instead, he takes a deep breath, sinks further into the couch he’s settled himself on. “We’re playing the Pies next week,” he says. “Can we go for lunch before a game, or something?”

“Yeah,” she says immediately. “Yes, I’d like that.”

“Cool,” Seb says.

“You’re playing the Garages tomorrow,” Jess says. She says it like it means something, and he knows it does — because it’s not just the Garages, they played the Garages today and it was fine; it’s their undead pitcher, it’s the body count attached. “I caught myself up on everything that’s happened. Hotdogfingers. The debts.”

“Yeah, it’s been — it hasn’t been fun. She got Marco and Sam the second week, and — they’re alright, they survived, but a lot of people didn’t.”

“Be careful? Please. I can’t l—” and she cuts off, but he gets the gist. Can’t lose him again. Because it was a loss, for her, when he showed up and replaced the other-him. “Just be careful.”

“Always am,” he says. It’s a lie. A joke. She wonders if he knows enough about him to know that.

“I have to go practice,” she says. He can hear a smile in her voice, and he realizes very quickly that he’s never heard that tone from this Jess before. It’d been years, when he swapped, since he’d heard it from his own Jess. “But I’ll see you next week, alright? Day seventy-three. Just call me when you get to Philly.”

“Looking forward to it,” he says, and it’s the truth. “Bye, Jess.”

“Bye, Seb.”

***

The next day, Jaylen Hotdogfingers aims a fastball directly at Sebastian’s chest, knocks him flat on the ground. He has to take a long moment in the dirt to catch his breath. The umpire looks like they want to incinerate him just for taking that moment, for delaying play at all before he drags himself to the dugout, sits heavily next to Leach.

She does him the courtesy of not asking if he’s alright.

He isn’t. He saw Sam and Marco go through instability and come out unscathed and thought, foolishly, that it would be easy. They hadn’t seemed any different after being hit. They’d looked exactly the same; perhaps a little more wild-eyed, but the game does that to people.

He looks down at his hand and it has smoke coming off of it already. The smoke before the fire. Events in the wrong direction, happening the wrong way.

“Do you see that?” he whispers to Leach. Holds his hand out in front of her.

“Your hand?” She tilts her head in what might be concern. “It’s the same as it was before.”

He yanks it back into his lap as if it’s been scalded by the words. He’s nervous enough without feeling burnt, even metaphorically.

He should call Jess after the game, he thinks. If something happens to him, she deserves to know beforehand. On the other hand — the video of three Steaks being struck by pitches won’t be plastered over every blaseball news website for the next twenty-four hours, and he knows she checks those religiously, has every stat and every schedule memorized. He’s seen her mouthing her opponents’ stats to herself when the Steaks play the Pies; some of them are numbers he’s never heard of in metrics he can’t fathom, even though they must exist applied to him, somewhere. 

She’ll find out. He’d be surprised if she didn’t know already.

He thinks, in the infield, at the plate, on the bench, about the pros and cons of calling and not calling. Pros: he could talk to her again. The weather forecast is predicting another eclipse in the next few days, and he feels feverish under his skin, like the fire’s just waiting to engulf him. She cares in a way his Jess never did, has replaced all the distance that used to characterize the idea of siblings in his mind with something else, and it’s taken him this long to even start to wrap his head around that.

She doesn’t want to lose him again. She’d been best friends with the other Sebastian.

And that leads him to the cons: it seems unbearably cruel to try to be her friend if he’s only going to die. If they won’t even be able to see each other in Philly, go out for lunch like he promised — the lack of closure might kill her, too. He thinks about the swirling storm of regrets he’d had when she’d been shelled, and thinks about the hopelessness of an incineration. No chance of being pecked free by birds.

He just has to survive the next week. Then he’ll call, and they’ll go out to lunch together. He can apologize for assuming she was the same as the Jess in his world, at first; he can apologize for pushing her away; he can apologize for not calling, as long as he survives.

When Jess calls him after the game, he lets it ring and ring. He does not listen to the voicemail she leaves.

***

Two days later, Sebastian Telephone is incinerated.

[arcticdementor]

Something strange happened to the news over the past four years. The dominant stories all resembled the scripts of bad movies—sequels and reboots. The Kavanaugh hearings were a sequel to the Clarence Thomas hearings, and Russian collusion was rebooted as Ukrainian impeachment. Journalists are supposed to hunt for good scoops, but in January, as the coronavirus spread, they focused on the impeachment reality show instead of a real story.

It’s not just journalists. The so-called second golden era of televi­sion was a decade ago, and many of those shows relied on cliff-hangers and gratuitous nudity to hold audience attention. Across TV, movies, and novels it is increasingly difficult to find a compelling story that doesn’t rely on gimmicks. Even foundational stories like liberalism, equality, and meritocracy are failing; the resulting woke phenomenon is the greatest shark jump in history.

Storytelling is central to any civilization, so its sudden failure across society should set off alarm bells. Culture inevitably reflects the selection process that sorts people into the upper class, and today’s insipid stories suggest a profound failure of this sorting mech­anism.

…

Culture is larger than pop culture, or even just art. It encompasses class, architecture, cuisine, education, manners, philosophy, politics, religion, and more. T. S. Eliot charted the vastness of this word in his Notes towards the Definition of Culture, and he warned that technocratic rule narrowed our view of culture. Eliot insisted that it’s impossible to easily define such a broad concept, yet smack in the middle of the book he slips in a succinct explanation: “Culture may even be described simply as that which makes life worth living.” This highlights why the increase in “deaths of despair” is such a strong condemnation of our dysfunction. In a fundamental way, our culture only exists to serve a certain class. Eliot predicted this when he cri­tiqued elites selected through education: “Any educational system aiming at a complete adjustment between education and society will tend to restrict education to what will lead to success in the world, and to restrict success in the world to those persons who have been good pupils of the system.”

This professional managerial class has a distinct culture that often sets the tone for all of American culture. It may be possible to separate the professional managerial class from the ruling elite, or plutocracy, but there is no cultural distinction. Any commentary on an entire class will stumble in the way all generalizations stumble, yet this culture is most distinct at the highest tiers, and the fuzzy edges often emulate those on the top. At its broadest, these are college-educated, white-collar workers whose income comes from labor, who are huddled in America’s cities, and who rise to power through existing bureaucracies. Bureaucracies, whether corporate or government, are systems that reward specific traits, and so the culture of this class coalesces towards an archetype: the striving bureaucrat, whose values are defined by the skills needed to maneuver through a bureau­cracy. And from the very beginning, the striving bureaucrat succeeds precisely by disregarding good storytelling.

…

Professionals today would never self-identify as bureaucrats. Product managers at Google might have sleeve tattoos or purple hair. They might describe themselves as “creators” or “creatives.” They might characterize their hobbies as entrepreneurial “side hustles.” But their actual day-in, day-out work involves the coordination of various teams and resources across a large organization based on established administrative procedures. That’s a bureaucrat. The entire professional culture is almost an attempt to invert the connotations and expecta­tions of the word—which is what underlies this class’s tension with storytelling. Conformity is draped in the dead symbols of a prior generation’s counterculture.

…

When high school students read novels, they are asked to identify the theme, or moral, of a story. This teaches them to view texts through an instrumental lens. Novelist Robert Olen Butler wrote that we treat artists like idiot savants who “really want to say abstract, theoretical, philosophical things, but somehow they can’t quite make themselves do it.” The purpose of a story becomes the process of translating it into ideas or analysis. This is instrumental reading. F. Scott Fitzgerald spent years meticulously outlining and structuring numerous rewrites of The Great Gatsby, but every year high school students reduce the book to a bumper sticker on the American dream. A story is an experience in and of itself. When you abstract a message, you lose part of that experience. Analysis is not inherently bad; it’s just an ancillary mode that should not define the reader’s disposition.

Propaganda is ubiquitous because we’ve been taught to view it as the final purpose of art. Instrumental reading also causes people to assume overly abstract or obscure works are inherently profound. When the reader’s job is to decode meaning, then the storyteller is judged by the difficulty of that process. It’s a novel about a corn beef sandwich who sings the Book of Malachi. Ah yes, a profound critique of late capitalism. An artist! Overall, instrumental reading teaches striving students to disregard stories. Cut to the chase, and give us the message. Diversity is our strength? Got it. Throw the book out. This reductionist view perhaps makes it difficult for people to see how incoherent the higher education experience has become.

…

“Decadence” sounds incorrect since the word elicits extravagant and glamorous vices, while we have Lizzo—an obese antifertility priestess for affluent women. All our decadence becomes boring, cringe-inducing, and filled with HR-approved jargon. “For my Ful­bright, I studied conflict resolution in nonmonogamous throuples.” Campus dynamics may partially explain this phenomenon. Camille Paglia has argued that many of the brightest left-wing thinkers in the 1960s fried their brains with too much LSD, and this created an opportunity for the rise of corporate academics who never participated in the ’60s but used its values to signal status. What if this dropout process repeats every generation?

…

The professional class tells a variety of genre stories about their jobs: TED Talker, “entrepreneur,” “innovator,” “doing well by doing good.” One of the most popular today is corporate feminism. This familiar story is about a young woman who lands a prestigious job in Manhattan, where she guns for the corner office while also fulfilling her trendy Sex and the City dreams. Her day-in, day-out life is blessed by the mothers and grandmothers who fought for equality—with the ghost of Susan B. Anthony lingering Mufasa-like over America’s cubicles. Yet, like other corporate genre stories, girl-boss feminism is a celebration of bureaucratic life, including its hierarchy. Isn’t that weird?

There are few positive literary representations of life in corporate America. The common story holds that bureaucratic life is soul-crushing. At its worst, this indulges in a pedestrian Romanticism where reality is measured against a daydream, and, as Irving Babbitt warned, “in comparison . . . actual life seems a hard and cramping routine.” Drudgery is constitutive of the human condition. Yet even while admitting that toil is inescapable, it is still obvious that most white-collar work today is particularly bleak and meaningless. Office life increasingly resembles a mental factory line. The podcast is just talk radio for white-collar workers, and its popularity is evidence of how mind-numbing work has become for most.

Forty years ago, Christopher Lasch wrote that “modern industry condemns people to jobs that insult their intelligence,” and today employers rub this insult in workers’ faces with a hideously infantilizing work culture that turns the office into a permanent kindergarten classroom. Blue-chip companies reward their employees with balloons, stuffed animals, and gold stars, and an exposé detailing the stringent communication rules of the luxury brand Away Luggage revealed how many start-ups are just “live, laugh, love” sweatshops. This humiliating culture dominates America’s companies because few engage in truly productive or necessary work. Professional genre fiction, such as corporate feminism, is thus often told as a way to cope with the underwhelming reality of working a job that doesn’t con­tribute anything to the world.

There is another way to tell the story of the young career woman, however. Her commute includes inspiring podcasts about Ugandan entrepreneurs, but also a subway stranger breathing an egg sandwich into her face. Her job title is “Senior Analyst—Global Trends,” but her job is just copying and pasting between spreadsheets for ten hours. Despite all the “doing well by doing good” seminars, the closest thing she knows to a community is spin class, where a hundred similar women, and one intense man in sports goggles, listen to a spaz scream Hallmark card affirmations.

…

The bureaucrat even describes the process of rising through fraud­ulence as “playing the game.” The book The Organization Man criticized professionals in the 1950s for confusing their own interests with those of their employers, imagining, for example, that moving across the country was good for them simply because they were transferred. “Playing the game” is almost like an overlay on top of this attitude. The idea is that personal ambition puts the bureaucrat in charge. Bureaucrats always feel that they are “in on the game,” and so develop a false sense of certainty about the world, which sorts them into two groups: the cynics and the neurotics. Cynics recognize the nonsense, but think it’s necessary for power. The neurotics, by con­trast, are earnest go-getters who confuse the nonsense with actual work. They begin to feel like they’re the only ones faking it and become so insecure they have to binge-watch TED Talks on “im­poster syndrome.”

These two dispositions help explain why journalists focus on things like impeachment rather than medical supply chains. One group cynically condescends to American intelligence, while neurotics shriek about the “norms of our democracy.” Both are undergirded by a false certainty about what’s possible. Professional elites vastly overestimate their own intelligence in comparison with the average American, and today there is nothing so common as being an elitist. Meanwhile, public discourse gets dumber and dumber as elitists spend all their time explaining hastily memorized Wikipedia entries to those they deem rubes.

…

The entire phenomenon of the nonconformist bureaucrat can be seen as genre inversion. Everyone today grew up with pop culture stories about evil corporations and corporate America’s soul-sucking culture, and so the “creatives” have fashioned a self-image defined against this genre. These stories have been internalized and inverted by corporate America itself, so now corporate America has mandatory fun events and mandatory displays of creativity.

In other words, past countercultures have been absorbed into corporate America’s conception of itself. David Solomon isn’t your father’s stuffy investment banker. He’s a DJ! And Goldman Sachs isn’t like the stuffy corporations you heard about growing up. They fly a transgender flag outside their headquarters, list sex-change tran­sitions as a benefit on their career site, and refuse to underwrite an IPO if the company is run by white men. This isn’t just posturing. Wokeness is a cult of power that maintains its authority by pretending it’s perpetually marching against authority. As long it does so, its sectaries can avoid acknowledging how they strengthen managerial America’s stranglehold on life by empowering administrators to en­force ever-expanding bureaucratic technicalities.

…

Moreover, it is shocking that no one in the 2020 campaign seems to have reacted to the dramatic change that happened in 2016. Good storytellers are attuned to audience sophistication, and must understand when audiences have grown past their techniques. Everyone has seen hundreds of movies, and read hundreds of books, and so we intuitively understand the shape of a good story. Once audiences can recognize a storytelling technique as a technique, it ceases to function because it draws attention to the artifice. This creates distance be­tween the intended emotion and the audience reaction. For instance, a romantic comedy follows a couple as they fall in love and come together, and so the act two low point will often see the couple breaking up over miscommunication. Audiences recognize this as a technique, and so, even though miscommunication often causes fights, it seems fake.

Similarly, today’s voters are sophisticated enough to recognize the standard political techniques, and so their reactions are no longer easily predictable. Voters intuitively recognize that candidate “de­bates” are just media events, and prewritten zingers do not help politicians when everyone recognizes them as prewritten. The literary critic Wayne Booth wrote that “the hack is, by definition, the man who asks for responses he cannot himself respect,” and our politicians are always asking us to buy into nonsense that they couldn’t possibly believe. Inane political tropes operate just like inane business jargon and continue because everyone thinks they’re on the inside, and this blinds them to obvious developments in how audiences of voters relate to political tropes. Trump often plays in this neglected space.

The artistic development of the sitcom can be seen as the process of incorporating its own artifice into the story. There is a direct creative lineage from The Dick Van Dyke Show, a sitcom about television comedy writers, to The Office, a show about office workers being filmed for television. Similarly, Trump often succeeds because he incorporates the artifice of political tropes. When Trump points out that the debate audiences are all donors, or that Nancy Pelosi doesn’t actually pray for him, he’s just pointing out what everyone already knows. This makes it difficult for other politicians to “play the game,” because their standard tropes reinforce Trump’s message. If the debates are just media spectacle events for donors, then ap­plause lines work against you. It’s similar to breaking the fourth wall, while the rest of the cast nervously tries to continue with their lines. Trump’s success is evidence that the television era of political theater is ending, because its storytelling formats are dead.

In fact, the (often legitimate) criticism that Trump does not act “presidential” is the same as saying that he’s not acting professional—that he is ignoring the rules of bureaucratic advancement. Could you imagine Trump’s year-end review? “In 2020, we invite Donald to stop sending Outlook reminders that just say ‘get schlonged.’” Trump’s antics are indicative of his different route to power. Forget everything else about him: how would you act if you never had a job outside a company with your name on the building? The world of the professional managerial class doesn’t contain many characters, and so they associate eccentricity with bohemianism or ineptitude. But it’s also reliably found somewhere else.

Small business owners are often loons, wackos, and general nut­jobs. Unlike the professional class, their personalities vary because their job isn’t dependent on how others view them. Even when they’re wealthy or successful, they often don’t act “professional.” It requires tremendous grit and courage to own a business. They are perhaps the only people today who embody what Pericles meant when he said that the “secret to freedom is courage.” In the wake of coronavirus, small businesses owners stoically shuttered their stores and faced financial ruin, while politicians with camera-ready personas and ratlike souls tried to increase seasonal worker visas.

…

Ever since Star Wars, screenwriters have used Joseph Campbell’s monomyth to measure a successful story, and an essential act one feature is the refusal of adventure. For a moment, the universe opens up and shows the hero an unknown world of possibility, but the hero backs away. For four years, our nation has refused adventure, yet fate cannot be ignored. The coronavirus forces our nation to confront adventure. With eerie precision, this global plague tore down the false stories that veiled our true situation. The experts are incompetent. The institutions told us we were racist for caring about the virus, and then called for arresting paddleboarders in the middle of the ocean. Our business regulations make it difficult to create face masks in a crisis, while rewarding those who outsource the manufacturing of lifesaving drugs to our rival. The new civic religion of wokeness is a dangerous antihuman cult that distorts priorities. Even our Hollywood stars turn out to be ugly without makeup.

[badcowboy69]

High Kaydia Heartthrob

Here’s a small bit of an AU of sorts having Travis and his husband Riley featured in the universe I created years ago.  It’s a planet that’s all “old west” but with some modern luxuries to it.  It’s all part of my almost 500 page novel I wrote about me and my bad cowboy.  And before anyone asks, NO you cannot read it nor will it ever be posted anywhere.  It’s a guarded treat I only let those near and dear to my heart read.  Anyhoo...this is a small spin off of sorts from the saga @fuzzyelves and I created recently.  I hope anyone that reads this enjoys it and I’m more than willing to answer any questions about it. Placed under the cut for length.  Enjoy!

My ride home from High Kaydia was finally over and I wearily guided my horse, Chance, up the dirt path of my parents’ ranch to the shaded comfort of the barn.  The ranch was quiet, which was unusual, but for that I was thankful.  I wasn’t wanting to deal with my parents and their curious questions right now.  My mind was already a flurry of activity and I didn’t want it clouded with anything else.  

Dismounting, I began to remove Chance’s tack and put it to the side so I could tend to his needs first.  I wiped the sweat and froth from his body then checked and cleaned his hooves.  Satisfied with his well being, I led him to the gate leading to the pasture and let him loose.  He gave a shrill whinney seeing his friends and galloped off.  I sighed as I watched him run with Ghost, Domino, Sundance, and all the other horses of my mom’s small herd.  My thoughts went to Riley’s horse, Indigo, and I imagined her running alongside them.

“Shit!”  My daydream shattered as I remembered I promised to call Riley to let him know I arrived home safely.  Jogging back to the barn, I gathered up my pack and quickly made my way to the house.  Stepping inside I noticed how empty and quiet it was and I wondered where my folks were.  Then again, maybe it was better I didn’t know!  Blushing at the thought, I went to the phone and fished Riley’s number out of my wallet.  After requesting to be connected, I stood nervously while twisting the phone cord around my fingers in anticipation.

“White’s General and Supply.  Riley speaking.”

My heart about soared hearing the smooth tones of Riley’s voice and a pleasant wash of warmth surged through me.  “Hey there, mister.  Wondering if y’all got any sickle blades in stock?”

Following a small bit of silence, I heard a soft gasp on the other end followed by, “Oh, Travis it’s you!  I take it you’re home now?”

“Yeah, not happily, though.  I really wish I coulda stayed on another night,” I frowned, finding an unfamiliar yearning in my entire being to be in Riley’s company once again.  

“Likewise.” was the short answer followed by an uncomfortable pause.  I knew he had to be missing me like I was him.  At least I hoped.  After a few moments, he continued.  “I...I really had a great time with you last night, Travis. I hope that we can hang out and do it again very soon.”

I nodded to myself then directed my eyes towards the window hearing my mom’s joyful laughter from somewhere outside.  I had to make this quick.  “M-me too.  Um...listen, my folks are gonna be here any minute now and I’m sure they’re gonna harass me about stuff so I better scoot.  I’ll try and give you a call tonight if you want.”

“That sounds good.  Actually, I can call you if you’d like?  After dinner maybe?  We could probably discuss plans about my coming to visit you.  Maybe later this week?  How does that sound?”

I couldn’t contain the huge grin that spread across my face hearing that.  He truly did want to continue seeing me!  I cleared my throat and pushed my hat off my brow.  “S-sounds perfect!  I’ll...I’ll be looking forward to hearing from you then.  Thanks again for everything.  Talk to you soon!”  After I heard him bid me goodbye for now, I hung up the phone and sighed.  I didn’t want to miss him, but I did.  I only hoped it wouldn’t be too long until we saw one another again.

The screen door squeaked loudly indicating that someone entered the house and I turned to see my mom carrying a basket of eggs.  “Well, there’s my adventurous son home at last!” she exclaimed while putting the basket on the counter.  “How was your trip?  Did you manage to get the saw blades?”

“Y-yeah, I did.  Got ‘em in my saddlebags back in the barn.  I have to get ‘em and put my gear away soon.  Thought I’d come in and get a cold drink, first.”  Giving one last glance at the phone, I went to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of beer.  As I twisted off the cap, I noticed my mom was leaning against the counter with her arms crossed in front of her chest and a knowing smile on her lips.  I felt my cheeks warm with a blush and I quickly turned away.  “I...uhh...I better go and get those blades and tack put away afore pa gets sore at me leaving things lying around.”

“Sounds like a good idea,” she replied.  

I felt her eyes still on me as I guzzled down the beer.  I was about to put the empty bottle on the counter when she stepped in front of me and placed her hand on my arm.  I looked sheepishly at her and bit my lower lip.  “Anything wrong?”

“What’s he like?”

I paled.  “Wh-who?”

“The man in High Kaydia who caught your fancy.  Travis, you can deny it all you want, but a mother knows these things.” 

I rubbed the back of my neck and looked away, but felt her hand on my cheek turning me face her again.  “It’s nothing to be upset about.  I’m glad you found someone who’s special enough for you to keep busting up blades over and making a two hour ride to go and get.  I take it he’s a store keep?”

I nodded shortly making her smile gently.  She patted my cheek and nodded in approval.  “Well, whenever you’re ready to share details about him, I’d love to hear them.”  She pulled me into a tight hug and sighed.  “And don’t worry about your father.  As much as he squawks about that town, he’ll trust your judgement.  Now, go get your stuff put away before he does find something to squawk about.”

Nodding, I pulled from her embrace and hurriedly slipped out the backdoor and headed to the barn.  As I hung up the new sickle blades in the workshop, I heard my pa’s fox cries of “Yip, yip, yip!” out in the distance indicating that he was herding up our few cows for their routine inspection.  I was glad as it also meant he wouldn’t be crossing my path anytime soon.  Even though ma said he wouldn’t have issues with my having a possible love interest in High Kaydia, I still didn’t want to deal with any probing questions or comments.

Love interest?  

I snorted at that thought and began to give my tack the once over before putting it all away in their appropriate spots.  Heading back to the house, my mind drifted to Riley again.  Could he truly become a love interest?  I sure would like to hope so.  Although romancing and stuff really isn’t something I’m all too familiar with, I ain’t exactly too green with it either.  Mostly it was the random cowboy that moseyed onto our ranch looking for temporary help before he continued on his way.  Handsome face, kind heart, sweet talker.  Never amounted to anything, really.  Maybe a few casual outings...usually a smooch or two, maybe a handjob, but I never let it go beyond that.  Why bother?  Why get emotionally and physically involved with someone I probably would never see again?  Or even want to.  Shit like that always left me feeling unsatisfied and dirty anyways.  I also never pictured myself to be the relationship kind of guy none either.

So, why Riley?  What makes my feelings for him different?  

I grabbed another beer from the fridge before continuing to my room, scooping up my discarded pack along the way.  I slung it on the bed and closed the door with a sigh as I twisted the cap off my bottle and took a deep drink almost emptying it.  “Dammit.”  I sat heavily on the bed and pulled off my boots, wiggling my toes to get the circulation back in them from being cramped up from the long ride home.  Flopping backwards, I closed my eyes and draped my arm over my brow.  I wanted to nap, but now that I was alone and relaxing, my mind had other ideas.

Riley.

Again with Riley.  

I groaned and rubbed my face with my hands then stared up at the ceiling.  There was no denying I had it bad for him and I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.  It couldn’t be bad, though, could it?  I mean, he made me feel great!  I love listening to him talk and I love simply being in his company.  I love hearing him laugh at my dumb jokes or antics.  I love the surge of warmth or tingles that went through me from any thought, any touch...any time those gorgeous blue eyes of his gazed at me.  And don’t even get me started about that red hair!

Lordy!  When he permitted me to touch it last night I could have died right there on the spot!  

I rolled over on my side, grabbed my pillow, and clutched it tightly to my chest.  My arms ached to hold him again.  My lips ached to kiss him again.  I started yearning to have his body pressed against mine like it was last night when we kissed goodnight in the shadows along the side of the bed and bath.  The first kiss we shared by the campfire was plenty amazing as it was, but the goodnight kiss?  Woo boy!  I never wanted it to end!  

Riley had me backed against the side of the house with his hands clutching my hips keeping me close against him.  My hands were busy fussing with his amazing red hair, of course.  Riley was murmuring a few gentle compliments, but I hardly heard them 'cause my concentration was somewhere else...mostly on how close we were.  I held him tight, my fingers pressed against his back while I secretly wished for our shirts to be off.  I wanted so badly to feel the heat of his freckled skin against mine in the cool evening air.     

I now began wondering just how much hair covered his chest and I not only imagined myself gliding my hands over it, but also found myself shifting my thoughts to his freckles.  I also began to wonder to what extent those freckles went on him and if I’d be lucky enough to touch every one someday.  Did they cover his back?  Did they dot his legs?  Hell, did they go throughout his inner thighs?  The hell with touching them, I think I’d much rather glide my tongue over them!  A groan escaped my throat with that fantasy and once again I imagined us up in a hay loft.  To explore him in those small, but intimate ways would surely be a dream come true!

I sighed and turned over onto my back, still clutching my pillow against me.  I also discovered my left hand had a will of its own and it managed to slip down the front of my britches without my even realizing.  I blushed and immediately yanked my hand from there.  What the hell is wrong with me?  I ain’t never felt like this way about nobody before.  As badly as I wouldn’t mind getting closer to him than our light smooches and touches, I really wanted to learn a bit more about him along the way.  I mean, you could find someone that could be the best lay in the world, but if they were a horrible or boring person then no amount of fucking would be worth it.

Thankfully, I already knew from the small bit of time spent with Riley there was no way in hell he was boring.  So far every moment we were together was fun and amazing.  Hell, every time I was around him I felt my heart soar!  And with his gentle personality I seriously doubted he was a horrible person none either.  Still, there was so much more to learn about him and I truly hoped he’ll teach me for a long, long time to come.  

  Fin~  for now....

[aguagua]

JAROD FOR 1, 5, 6 AND 20

HOO. OKAY. Thank you!!1. How does your character think of their father? What do they hate and love about him? What influence - literal or imagined - did the father have?Jarod doesn’t know either of his parents. His mother died during child birth and his father passed before he was even born. What he knows of his dad was that, like his brother, was an exceptional warrior. Honest and loyal to the king until the very end, as he proved dying in battle. The influence his father has on him is added pressure. Everyone in his family has been great, powerful, memorable whereas Jarod is not so much. He’s competing with ghost, a legacy of a person he’s never even met, his father. 5. Were they overprotected as a child? Sheltered?Being raised by his only living relative, his brother, Arrow definitely was overprotective of Jarod. Since Jarod was born very small and weak, in comparison to others, Arrow would always be hovering close by. Jarod was allowed to play and go out and explore but only for short periods of time. Most of his time was spent at home with his brother as a kid or with elders who would watch him closely to make sure he didn’t get into any trouble. Arrow was always worried something would go wrong with Jarod, wherever or whatever he was doing when he was young. As he got older, Arrow had more faith in Jarod and helped him get stronger. 6. Did they feel rejection or affection as a child?His brother gave him a lot of affection! But that was the only source. Most demons would turn away from Jarod because he was so weak and small, and frankly he had very different ways of thinking than other young demons. He’d be daydreaming instead of fighting, he was smarter than other demons and a fast talker / a smartass at a young age. So, he was fairly isolated as a child, treated almost like The Village Idiot. 20. What were the most deeply impressive political or social, national or international, events that they experienced?Probably the events of All Star Hunters. Jarod never involved himself with anything in the underworld or the kingdom. Unlike his brother, who is a dedicated soldier in the Underworld’s army, he didn’t care either way about Lord Avin or any of the events or history of their place in the Underworld. The fact that he knew so much about humans (which is very little, but compared to other demons, his knowledge seemed vast.) was the only reason he was plunged into this mission alongside his brother and another soldier to collect stolen holy artifacts (the All Stars) in the Living World to bring back to its rightful home in the Underworld.

[justastraycat]

Daydreamers, the ghost walkers, the loose talkers 

[vantrece]

[ possessive ] 8)

NON - SEXUAL   ACTS   OF   DOMINANCE || Selectively Accepting

@bellatorumrex 

       Was  it  the first  time  they’ve  gone  out  like  this ?  No.  Was  it  the  first  time  he  would  have  ACTED  like  this ?  Also,  no.  It  is  almost  expected  to  happen,  whenever  they  would  be  together  in  the  public  eye.  Truly  quite  the  sight,  menacingly  ENCHANTING,  beautiful  predators  that  found  their  way  through  the  waves  of  people  that  so  quickly  PARTED  at  their  approach  [  for  may  God  have  mercy  on  the  one  that  so  DARED  step  across  their  path  ].  Oh  but  how  eyes  came  to  LINGER  on  her  every  so  often,  with  hair  of  fire  that  washed  over  her  shoulders  with  every  subtle  movement,  every  TILT  of  head,  with  glacial  eyes  that  cut  through  all  that  they  lay upon,   &   that  body,  a  body  that  spoke  of  the  SINS  of  man,  crafted  in  a  rather  salacious  depiction  of  man’s  wants  [  there  was  always  fear,  there  was  admiration,  there  was  DESIRE,  there  was  DISGUST,  for  who  would  mutilate  their  body  so  thoroughly  to  become  more  MACHINE  then  FLESH ?  ].

                                      She  would  never  be  accepted  into  this  society.

   Is  it  disconcerting ?  Perhaps  for  some.  For  her,  it  was  a  sense  of  WARPED  PRIDE,  that  she  didn’t  fit  in  [  she  was  not  made  to  daydream  about  impossible  girlish  fantasies  ],  that  her  solitary  lifestyle  had  led  her  to  one  like  HIM.  Least  expected,  to  fall  into  the  gleaming  fangs  of  bestial  maw  so  willingly,  yet  here  they  were  [  like  FIRE  &   ICE  they  are ],  an  unlikely  pair  to  find  themselves  entwined  so  closely  together,  even  with  that  DISTANCE  seen  within  that  pale  gaze  of  ice,  they  would  IGNITE  FIERCELY  when  they  fell  upon  him,  with  a  smile  usually  so  disturbingly  nefarious,  but  strangely  enough  seeming  to  SOFTEN  around  the  frightful  man.  Just  who  were  they ?  Many  would  wonder,   &   thus  they would  be  left  WONDERING.  Aside  from  all  those  JUDGMENTAL  EYES,  she  found  herself  near  the  table  that  so  neatly  displayed  mountains  of  sweets,  having  broken  away  from  HIM  along  with  a  group  of  people  SHE  WAS  NEVER  MUCH  OF  A  TALKER  AT  THESE  EVENTS   &   towards  the  table.  If  there  was  any  knowledge  of  the  TENSION  that  had  now  permeated  the  air  as  she  approached  those  that  loitered  about  the  long  dessert  table,  it  wasn’t  even  acknowledged  by  the  cyborg.  Engrossed  in  the  visual  sights  of  the  COLOURFUL  sweets  lined  up  before  her,  eyes  gleaming  with  a  feline  glee  as  she  already  set  about  choosing  which  ones  she  craved—–

   The  wariness  of  the  one  standing  near  her,  the  nervous  smile   &  the  STRAINED  fake  LAUGHTER  didn’t  seem  to  bother  the  cyborg,  brushing  them  off  along  with  the  fixated  STARES  as  she  moved  to  seat  herself  (  allowing  them  to  drink  in  untouchable  beauty   &   TERROR  ),  some  even  going  as  far  as  to  leer  at  the  voluptuous  woman  whose  back  now  bowed  over  the  table,  elbows  planting  themselves  on  the  surface  as  fingers  fished  a  sugared  sweet  from  the  little  mountain  she  had  served  herself  on  the  plate–

   Suddenly  there’s  a  pause  to  her  motions  when  the  warmth  of  hand  ghosts  along  the  small  of  her  back,  thin  chains  that  dripped  down  muscular  back  now  gossiping  with  one  another  as  they  knock  into  each  other  due  to  his  touch.  Another  hand  smoothing  over  the  skin  of  her  thigh  brushing  alone  that  DIP  in  her skin  denoting  that  visible  seam  along  her  skin,  exposed  by  the  high  slit  of  the  glittering  gold  dress  she  wears.  How  REALISTIC  her  muscles  spasmed  beneath  his  hand  in  response  to  his  touch  as  fingers,  as  if  in  surprise  at  the  gentleness  he  harbored  [  is  she  still  surprised  that  he  could  be  SOFT  with  her ?  ],  her  eyes  darting  down  towards  the  hand  now  resting  upon  the  warm  skin  of  her  thigh  as  if  in  QUESTION  of  his  sudden,  silent,  appearance  beside  her.  That  is,  until  she  HEARS  the  voices  of  men  reach  her  ears  (  whispering  to  one  another  as  if  she  could  not  HEAR  ).  They  had  been  placing  a  bet.  

         Who  would  be  the  one  to  leave  with  her  on  their  arm ?

    A  pitiful  game,  where  they  would  have  ended  up  on  the  floor  with  arms  twisted  BEHIND  their  backs,  dangerously  close  to  a  breaking  point  [  TO  TASTE  THE  FEAR  THAT  THEY  WOULD  SOON  ENOUGH  REEK  OF  ].  Violent  acts  to  prove  a  POINT.  Now,  he  is  the  one  that  reveals  their  future,  the  chances  of  them  achieving  such  a  FUTILE  goal.  That  low  growl  rippling  through  the  air  as  his  head  dips  towards  hers,  with  the  fearsome  woman  slanting  her  gaze  upwards  to  him.

                    ❛  Are  you  JEALOUS  about  the  attention  I  am  getting ?  Should  I  share  it  with  YOU ?  ❜        THEY  WOULDN’T  HAVE  GOTTEN  ANY  ACKNOWLEDGEMENT  ANYWAYS   The  soft  pad  of  her  fingers  drawing  across  the  moon-touched  skin  of  strong  jawline,  piercing  gaze  tracing  the  movements  of  her  own  fingers  with  that  DANGEROUS  SMILE,  like  glinting  blades  hidden  by  the  softness  of  her  mouth.  The  sugared  white  powder  that  once  coated  her  thumb,  now  harshly  presses  against  his  LIPS  in  tandem  to  that  powerful  GRIP he  exerts  on  her  thigh  [  how  he  could  surely  feel  muscle  TENSE   &   jump  at  that  subtle  display  of  power  ].  Sliding  her  thumb  down  over  his  chin,  leaving  that  faint  streak  of  WHITE  on  his  lips,  leaning  up  [  eyes  briefly  dancing  over  towards  those  CHATTERING  MEN  to  offer  that  monstrous  smile  for  a  brief  second  ]  to  catch  his  lips  with  hers  to  taste  HIM  as  much  as  to  taste  the  subtle  sweetness  of  sugar  she  coated  over  them.

    DASHING  their  hopes  effectively,  she’d  think,  as  she  breaks  their  kiss  [  a  subtle  crimson  now  on  his  lips,  her  lipstick,  the  CULPRIT  ],  but  doesn’t  pull  away  entirely  as  that  pale  gaze  is  now  revealed   &   interlocked  with  his  with  a  purr  against  his  lips.        ❛  We  should  all  know  who  the  TRUE  winner  is  now,  no ? ~  ❜

    Forgotten,  is  the  plate  of  sweet  confections  that  she  had  once  moved  to  INDULGE  herself  in,  for  now  she  reveled  in  him.  Who  was  anyone  to  deny  that  his  taste,  his  methods   &   expertly  spun  words  was  her  own  cause  of  INTEMPERANCE ?  The  one  at  fault,  to  be  HIM,  yet  with  harshness  to  make  itself  known  in  the  past  between  them,  now  is  there  only  that  arm  that  pulls  her  to  the  EDGE  of  her  seat,  closer  to  the  entrancing  vampire  whose  ink  black  hair  now  twirls  around  the  long  digits  of  his  beauteous  partner,  that  frighteningly  stunning  cyborg.  She  likes  it  when  he  gets  like  this  with  her.  That  throaty  chuckle  roiling  out  of  her  as  she  proceeds  to  now  give  him  another,  now  rather -----  CHASTE -----  kiss  on  the  lips,  murmuring  just  loud  enough  for  him  to  hear.        ❛  No  one  will  stop  us  if  we  choose  to  leave  early.  ❜

[shiroe-is-my-baby]

An Unfair Trade - Ch. 2

Summary: A young enchantress offers a chance at exposure to the fictional world. The only thing she asks of her prey is to bargain their soul. The trick is Ashley must make Shiroe fall in love with her in a month. It won’t be easy, but she has to try. But there is one small detail that she fails to notice. One that could ruin her chances all together.

W: self-insert, eventual fluff, some angst

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

When I woke up again, I felt somewhat different. I knew that I wasnt in my room, but I wasn’t sure exactly where I was. My eyes fluttered open, taking a second to adjust to the bright light. I winced, hearing a few voices distinctively above me. Then, I felt a hand touch my shoulder gentle enough to be just polite. My body jolted, and I sat upright in whatever spot I was at.

My heart flutters in my chest, sinking to my toes the moment I saw a familiar face not too far from my own. It was that moment that my memories came flooding back to me. The enchantress and her curse on me. The unfair trade I made for my soul for a chance at love. A chance at… love… with…

SHIROE?!

I felt my body trying to scream, but nothing seemed to escape. Why couldn’t I scream? Why was Shiroe staring me in the face? I thought this was all some crazy dream but it was real. She was real. The deal was real. I lost my soul to her and possibly my… voice.

Oh no.

My voice is gone.

“Hey, are you okay?” Shiroe asked, clearly concerned for me.

Me a total stranger.

And yet I feel like I’ve known him for so long.

I swallowed hard, nodding my head slowly as I relaxed into the floor.

Seeing him right in front of me was like a dream. I felt my heart wildly thumping in my chest now that I could see him clearly. All of this time I had felt stupid for actually being so in love with him when I could never touch him or feel him. But being in front of him now it felt so real.

I wanted to hug him so bad. Like it felt almost impulsive. Like seeing a long lost love for the very first time. Or a long distance lover. But we never actually spoke a word. He doesn’t know who I am. Not at all.

That thought along hurt.

“What’s your name? Do you feel sick?” He asked, genuinely trying to figure out what was wrong.

I shook my head frantically, knowing that I couldn’t answer these questions all at once.

Shiroe raised an eyebrow, holding out his hand towards me.

“C'mon, I’ll help you up,” he said.

“You probably scared the hell out of her, Shiroe. She looks like a freaking ghost.”

Naotsugu peeked his head from behind Shiroe, making my eyes widen more. Great. They’re all here. I couldn’t even answer Shiroe’s questions, and now I had more people to talk to me. I followed the man’s movements, watching him stand beside his friend and smile softly.

“I was just trying to make sure that she was okay. Sorry if I scared you.”

I shook my head again, opening my mouth to say something.

But yet again, nothing escaped.

They both looked at me with raised eyebrows, confused that I wasn’t saying anything.

My cheeks were red hot both from Shiroe’s eyes on me and the embarrassment of not being able to say what I wanted. How was I ever going to connect with him? He can’t get to know me if I can’t talk. I felt like I was about to melt into the ground and disappear.

“You… You wanna say something?” Naotsugu asked.

I nodded, pointing to my throat and trying to convey through hand motions.

Shiroe seemed to understand almost immediately.

“You can’t talk at all?” He asked.

I nodded again.

“How… how can she not talk? I haven’t met someone that can’t… talk.”

“I’m not sure. I’m not sure if she even knows why.”

Shiroe looked me over, no doubt seeing the embarrassment and fear in my face. But it wasn’t for the reason he thought. He wouldn’t understand the true reason.

“Poor thing looks lost,” Naotsugu said, as if I wasn’t standing right here.

A purple flash came from the corner of my eye as Akatsuki slapped him upside the head. She appeared beside him, narrowing her eyes and placing a hand on her hip. “Don’t be so rude,” she snapped, “I’m sorry for him. He’s a doofus.” Shiroe groaned, immediately trying to stop the two of them from starting an argument.

Damn… they really do act this way.

I couldn’t help but laugh, even though nothing escaped.

Shiroe, who was glancing at me, smiled gingerly. I couldn’t help but blush brightly at the mere realization that he was smiling at me. And… blushing? Oh god. He looks adorable while blushing but why is he blushing at me!

Steam could practically come out of my ears at this point. My face was so hot and so red. Stop looking at me before I explode. Either that or I was going to faint.

“Do you want to come with us back to our guild hall?” Shiroe asked, “We can help you sort everything out.”

“And give you some good food. Since Nyanta should be done with the good when we get back!”

I tried to laugh again, covering my mouth out of habit.

‘Thank you,’ I mouthed to Shiroe.

“It’s no problem at all.”

He smiled, our gazed lingering for a moment.

At least they were all being friendly. They barely knew me and already they were inviting me in. This might be not so bad. Well, if I don’t count in the contract I signed giving up my soul if I can’t make Shiroe fall in love with me. I’m not even his type.

I take a moment to look down at my body, noticing the changes in it. I was still slightly chubby like my real body, only more of an exaggerated hourglass figure. The clothes fit my form, exposing parts of my stomach but only a small portion. The fingerlace gloves that ended at my elbows had a chain hanging from it, that ended as a ring on my middle fingers.

And the shorts hung against my frame and thick thighs. I liked the boots, though. They were fuzzy, stopping just below my knees. I had to thank the enchantress for at least giving me clothes to fit in. And I looked decent in them.

She seemed to give me the illusion that I was an adventurer by the menu and my stats. I was a high level, similar to the others. My class was a bard, and all of my stats seemed to look how I imagined them to be. She practically read my mind and my daydreams. How could she be so good at this? She really did examine every detail about me.

Shiroe motioned for me to follow, letting me trail a bit behind him and the others. Akatsuki disappeared, no doubt beating us there. I gazed around the area with an awefuk gaze. There was no doubt from looking at me that I was amazed with what I saw. Everything was just how I thought it would be. This Akihibara looked so real… It felt strange to be walking this road and seeing all the faces we passed by.

As I walked beside them, I began to wonder what part of the timeline I had came into. How long they’d been here and how much they know. I observed Shiroe more thoroughly, seeing the coat that he wore which indicated I was somewhere after the big raid. He’d find it suspicious if I asked… maybe… Shiroe’s one I can’t get one over on. I know it.

I found myself gazing at the back of his head, trailing my gaze up and down. He looked so real. There was no denying that I was here with him. My heart ached, knowing that even though I was here with him it still meant I was a stranger. And yet he wasn’t a stranger to me. Not at all.

I never realized how much that would hurt.

God, it hurt so bad.

He turned around to me once we made it to Log Horizon, noticing my expression. I found his gaze, my cheeks burning yet again as I quickly looked away. I didn’t like the way he looked at me. There was a smile on his face but his eyes were much more intense. But that could just be how they normally are. I just felt like he already had begun to figure me out.

They showed me inside, and I tried my hardest not to look anxious. I knew that I’d be introduced to everyone else in the guild, which was both exciting and nerve wracking. Thankfully, most of them were out at the moment, but should be arriving soon.

“Who’s this?” Nyanta asked, appearing rather abruptly into the room.

I tried to hide my flinch wen he appeared, biting down on my bottom lip.

“We found her outside,” Naotsugu said with a light pat on my shoulder, “She’s not much of a talker.”

“I’m sure she’s just shy. She fell pretty hard when we found her,” Shiroe said.

The way they were talking about me was making me nervous. I wasn’t sure how I was going to get used to this. It was all still so weird. My finger dug into my arm (a way that I dealt with nervousness) and tried to smile through it.

“I’m going to have a chat with her upstairs, if that’s okay.”

I gave a quick nod, almost a little too soon.

Didn’t want to look too eager.

“Alright, dinner’s gonna be ready soon. I’m assuming you’ll be staying and eating with us?”

I opened my mouth to speak out of habit, and quickly shut it. I turned to Shiroe, pursing my lips together and trying to convey it all through my eyes.

“It’s okay. We’re not gonna toss you out on the street or anything,” He said with a chuckle.

I smiled, wishing I could give a cute giggle at that one. But hopefully he noticed my smile.

The thought of being alone with him sent my heart racing. How was I going to talk to him when I can’t even speak? I wasn’t sure why he was choosing to be so nice to me either. When he barely even knew me. Not that I didn’t expect him to be nice I just thought I’d be turned away. I’m such a stranger who can’t even speak.

But I couldn’t help but wonder just how far I could go.

Could I make him fall in love with me?

Or at least become a friend?

It was finally time that I could touch him for real… and yet… he still felt so far away.

But I had to try. My soul was on the line.