#it's sad though too because i really liked the characters in MID. will have to take some motion sickness pills and finish it

[paging-possum]

on some level I understand that welcome to hell is probably a little harder to sell than hazbin given the *gestures vaguely* entire main plotline of w2h THAT SAID im going to be mad about it forever. because one of them is actually funny and has good character design and compelling dynamics and a good plot and its not the one about the freaking hotel.

[multishipper-baby]

Baby fever so bad I've been thinking about the ideal number of kids for characters. What is wrong with me.

[sparkspropaganda]

but I also know so much of my ND experience is like... growing up with them? so even if I was an adult when I played some of them the memories of the few I did play in childhood resonate. so maybe kids growing up now will find a lot more value in it. BUT.... they're banking on older fans of the games to carry their company. made obvious by the constant references to older games, and frank/nancy, which is regrettably something I *know* their 25-45 yrs old fanbase goes crazy for. so if they're trying to reignite some of that excitement I think it fails on certain fronts. and it's too expensive if you're a non fan looking for a solid puzzle/mystery solving game. but I'm also selfishly glad it exists and that HerInteractive didn't completely go under, due to the aforementioned nostalgia, and that's admittedly very hypocritical of me to say.

[venuslarkspur]

Teen Hero Shenanigans

(The Prologue)

Fall Of Girl Wonder

Summary: Your Damian’s Twin Sister who arrived 3 years after your brother, because of your late arrival you’re never excepted to become Robin, until your brother runs away and you volunteer to take his place in his absence, things are going well until Damian returns and you are thrown under the bus completely by being told you can’t be Robin anymore, after bottling up your anger you decide to go solo by running away and stealing a Batgirl costume. But you’re not alone, your sort of boyfriend joins you; which would be okay if it wasn’t your brother’s best friend of all people.

Pairings: Batfam x Batsis (platonic), Jon Kent x reader (romantic). Very bittersweet tbh, you love your bf but you’re also proving your worth to your family.

Notes: Reader and Damian are very on and off but do love each other ofc. (they only really had one another growing up in the league) To clear things up Bruce has a genuine reason for discharging reader of the Robin mantle but that’s an epilogue thing I fear, Reader is 16 so is Jon. I’d give this series maybe a 15+ rating as there will be be some heavy topics involved and some “problematic” language icl. Reader also is closest with Cass and Jason specifically, all of this isn’t at all comic book accurate but does include elements from the comics. (Also very fanony when it’s comes to the Batfam and Superfam) (I don’t own any of the characters this is fan-fiction 💙)

Warnings: Mentions of panic attacks, Damian runs away from home for a bit. Unless count Bruce being a semi shitty father then not a lot of warnings tbh. This is just the epilogue we haven’t even got to the real drama yet. 👏

Words: 1.4k

6 months, 2 weeks and 3 days. That’s how long you’ve held the Robin mantle, you trained none stop before even having volunteered for it. You wondered what your plan even was, as long as Damian had it you couldn’t. Then he ran away and it was all too convenient, you got the mask, the gloves and the cute boy. Were you worried about Damian? Obviously, you had panic attacks about it mid patrol, which meant whatever member of your family that was unlucky enough to be awake at that time, had to take your shift. You knew Barbara and Tim would track him eventually and were doing everything in their power, but that didn’t ease your worry, you even considered alerting your mother but you knew if she got wind of this she would force you to come back with her for your own safety, and you didn’t feel like going to back the small, sad, isolated girl you were before.

You had also gotten closer to Jon Kent, a best friend of your brother. In truth, you are immediately lovesick, so was he. But it came as a bit of bittersweet shock to you both that over your course of searching for Damian you had given up along the way and became invested in one another. Eventually it become so much more than just a mutual love for Damian, soon the Damian questions become You questions. Things progressed quickly, it went from “Do you think my brother is close by?” to “My dad and siblings aren’t home, do you wanna come over?” He makes it over every time, Alfred knows and you know that he knows. You begged him not to tell your father or anyone for that matter, he respected your decision to wait for the right time but would occasionally come in asking if you wanted anything. (You know it’s a ploy to check on you two) Clark and Lois 100% know and they approve but have been sworn to secrecy by you, you weren’t ashamed; of course not. It’s just that if you told even just one of your siblings, knowing them they would spill and accidentally tell another one of your siblings until the cycle continues and eventually reaches Damian. Though you were sure Cass already knew and you suspected Jason was catching on, but you weren’t even surprised that he was beginning to find out. He knew you well, after a good three years spending time and training with him and his group of people it became hard to keep secrets, although your weird duo did start off as a result of you being upset and jealous of Damian’s close relationship with Dick, you’re sure you’d still pick being Jason’s dysfunctional- unofficial sidekick.

As for Cass you knew there was a mutual appreciation for the fact you were both less outnumbered in terms of Bruce’s female children, sure Barbara was like an older sister to you and she always supported you over the com line on missions. But it wasn’t the same as having an actual sister, but it was unusual to call any of them your siblings, not just Cass. It took a while but the first time you remember calling one of them your brother or sister was when Dick had to come all the way and pick you up from school because of a “skiing accident” with your father, you knew immediately something must of happened because Alfred was always on time to get you, So when Dick came along you told your teacher your brother was here to pick you up instead, she waved you goodbye and as you entered the car you noticed the slight grin of his face, looking like he wanted to tease you, but he knew you weren’t so like Damian and wouldn’t even deny accepting him as a brother. You adapted much quicker than Damian, even if you have to get used to having 5 more siblings from now. (Yes I included Duke. <3)

—————————

It was the start of Christmas month and you were just doing your rounds with Stephanie and Barbara around the mall, Steph had gotten distracted a couple of times whilst window shopping but you and Barb managed to tug her along. You were nervous as your 16th birthday was also approaching, Jon had already turned 16 and you got to see him on his birthday; by masking it as going on patrol. It was fun but the question was popped at the party on when you were planning on telling your family about your relationship, you tensed up but luckily Lois took your side and encouraged you to tell Bruce and the rest when you were ready. This is why you like her. But right now you couldn’t think of that, you had to look for a present for Jon without being suspected.

Luckily Barbara had gone in the nearby cafe to get you guys some drinks, but that still left you with Steph. Maybe if you played it calm she wouldn’t even notice, so you started searching around looking at stuff and you thought that maybe you were safe. “Whatchu got there?” She bubbled, you took about a 5 foot jump backwards before blushing intensely. “Nothing.” You said calmly whilst shoving the item back on the shelf, she put her hand on her chin as if she was inspecting you. “Sooo who’s the lucky guy then? Or girl.” She smirked, “There’s no use lying is there?” You asked, “Absolutely not, so spill.” She leaned in and studied your face, “I can’t tell you who, but I’ve been seeing someone and before you ask I’m not in any trouble.” You confess, she shrugs as if wanting to ask more; but Barbara called out to you both drinks in hand, you swiftly looked back at Steph just for her to do a zipping motion with her lips, which satisfied you enough. “What have I missed?” Barb asked, you let out a sigh you didn’t know you were holding in and spoke up. “Well I was just wondering-“ You were cut of by a notification sound on Barbara’s phone, “We need to get back to the manor, now.” She said without a hint of warmth in her voice in order to calm you. What has happened now? You had quickly all changed into costume, excepting the worst.

——————————

You hastily made you way through the manor, Steph and Barbara in tow. Tim was waiting at the entrance to the kitchen and he tried to stop you, “Hey-don’t go in yet-“ you shrugged him off and continued on and Barbara eyed him suspiciously. You wished that you had waited, you weren’t prepared to see your newly found twin brother sitting on one of the stools with an ice pack above his brow, deep cuts layered across his arms and bruises across his neck. He must of put up a good fight against which ever one of your siblings found him, you assumed it was Dick as he was in costume and had slashes of his own. Alfred sat next to him, tending to his wounds whilst your father was stood next to him; checking out the marks Alfred wasn’t attending to, the room had now fell silent as everyone had now realised how awkward it was for Damian to see his twin sister in a Robin get up, this is the worst. You simply only stared into each other’s matching green eyes until you made the first move, you ran over and collapsed into him, giving him a bone crushing hug, he sat all tensed up before slowly returning the hug. “I’m sorry brother-I-I just.” Tears welled down your face before you threw off your mask and let it land on the other side of the room, you had never felt so relieved and guilty at the same time.

——————————

That night you stayed with your brother as long as possible, you had so many questions but right now you just wanted to embrace his return. Since it was an uncomfortable situation for everyone, most of the family decided to stay the night. You had crossed paths with Jason mid kitchen trip and he checked in on you first, but you couldn’t pin why it felt like he was holding something in. “You know you could forget all about this Girl Wonder thing and just join me, like old times.” He proposed, you looked at him puzzled. “By old times you mean a couple months ago? Also why are you asking me this? did something happen?” You questioned but watched as he couldn’t meet your gaze, “Bruce wants to see you downstairs, but you don’t have to go-“ “Okay fair enough, I’ll go see him now.” You interrupted and walked past him and ignored his muffled rejections, as you were now approaching the main office.

You should have listened to Jason, you should have gone with him. You’d regret not listening to him.

————————————

“Good news, you can put away the Robin costume for good now.”

————————————

Taglist: @waterwyne @venusmorning

(Part 1 is out!)

[megaderping]

Persona 5 fandom, I beg of you, please stop with the casual (and likely very unintentional) ableism. This is less about one specific person and an overall trend I see whenever people post bad takes on Akechi. Going "Akechi is a murderous psychopath" is harmful because it spreads an unfair stigma about psychopathy and mental illness in general as this "crazy" and violent thing, which has been normalized for far too long. And also, it's just not true. Anyone who thinks Akechi is this "remorseless psycho" (keeping in mind this use of the term isn't great) simply does not have more than a surface level reading of the character. His missable November texts make it abundantly clear that he is not happy with what he's doing under Shido. Which, granted, HIGHLY missable text. You have to basically delay Sae's Palace and not go in at all until mid-November. Engine room, 12/24, multiple times in third sem... his remorse is there, it's just subtle or not presented as shaking and crying and begging for forgiveness, because he's a guarded mess of a person (with deep psychological scars, make no mistake- this is not a healthy kid). But even without those texts, there are plenty of times where these feelings are conveyed. His sad reaction when Morgana explains changes of heart (if he had known sooner), his regrets in the engine room and lamentations about Joker's freedom, and I basically did a whole meta post breaking down the important visual and spoken symbolism to Akechi's character that gets boiled down to "hehehe crazy murder boy". Hate or dislike him? Cool, sure, but the normalization in fandom communities of just throwing around mental illness related terms in a derogatory fashion... really isn't good? Like even if Akechi was literally a psychopath or sociopath or had npd or other specific mental illnesses, that doesn't inherently make him evil, nor does it erase his victimhood, which is so integral to his role in the story.

He killed people, yes. That's not really up for debate, and yes he gets feral and over the top in third sem... but that's just over the top edgelord behavior directed at Shadows and focusing only on that ignores everything else he says and does in third sem, yet it happens so much (even though other Phantom Thieves, like Haru, have fun fighting Shadows too). Are we just gonna ignore all the times he's cool, collected, and reasonable in third sem to throw around this antiquated and hurtful idea of what the word "psychopath" means? ._. Just... blarg. I've made many Akechi rambles/rants, but the normalization of ableism surrounding him is not great? I think it's mostly down to ignorance and lack of media literacy, but yeah. Plus it's kinda fucked up how little weight is placed on Shido for teaching him how to do shutdowns (his own admission), the fact that the moment Akechi revealed himself to Shido, he was screwed, because this is a man who took a bump on the head as a reason to ruin Joker's life.

Idk. I think it's not just a P5 fandom trend, even, because it's so normalized the same way people think OCD is this funny quirky mental condition because of shows like Monk when it's an actual disability that can deeply affect people in horrible ways... Mental health awareness is good is all I'm saying.

[eriexplosion]

Yesterday everyone was posting their feelings on TBB. I'm glad I waited, because there's a lot swirling around. Cut for negativity again.

I was introduced to The Bad Batch in August 2022 and fell instantly in love. The characters, the story, the complex family dynamics, they all spoke to me. I wasn't even a Star Wars fan but I went through and devoured The Clone Wars, Rebels, The Mandalorian, all of it. I threw myself into this world and adored every second of it. I must have rewatched season one over five times before season two even came out.

When season two premiered I loved it. Every Tuesday night I stayed up until the episode drop and devoured it immediately. I looked ahead at the schedule and took days off work for the double episodes, for the big Crosshair episodes - he was my favorite early on and season two only made that grow. But season two also really brought Tech into my radar even more. I had always liked him, but here he was shining. The Crossing really solidified it, as an autistic person. I'd never heard someone describe the difference in processing so succinctly before, so clearly, and it spoke to me like very little had. Here was a character that was like me. Here was a character that I needed when I was an undiagnosed child, someone that would have made me feel like I had at least some way of describing my differences.

Then, well. He died. It was an affecting scene, but it felt out of nowhere, it felt unfinished. Tech didn't even get the climax of the episode. He just fell into the clouds, the Batch grieved for a few minutes, and then the plot steamrolled right along.

I didn't believe it, not after the mad scientist presented his goggles and claimed not to salvage anything else. It seemed like such an obvious fake out. The longer I sat with it the less satisfying it felt. It felt so brushed over, so pointless, all for a mission that they accomplished nothing on. Then came the social media circus. Again and again his fall was shoved in our faces on Twitter, demanding we stream it. TikToks were made that were so out of touch they felt like parodies, the wound ripped open again and again, and I thought surely there had to be a purpose to it.

So I waited for season 3 as interviews were done that seemed to almost intentionally avoid calling him dead. As tweets were made promising we'd be so fulfilled if we could only see who was onscreen in the mid-season! (A tweet that immediately garnered dozens of people hoping it referred to Tech, all without a single comment to try and quell the speculation.) It felt already like we were being toyed with, but I thought it had to be for a reason or a purpose. More weirdly vague discussions went up about his Sacrifice, his Fall, his Anything But Death, even as everyone insists that it was so meaningful, the way he died on a mission that accomplished nothing. Jokes were made around Valentines Day.

He Fell For You, get it?

The first official use of killed went up on the databank right after the trailer, on Hunter's page of all places. The first time the interviews used dead was the Friday before the premier. It all felt too late, theories had already grown for months by that point.

Season 3 finally came and I waited up for every episode drop just like I did for season 2, hoping for him to come back or at least for him to be properly grieved, since we had barely a couple of minutes in Plan 99 before it was swept away for the next plot point. Surely Tech's impact deserved an episode of focus, if he were really gone.

The previously on plays his last words twice. But then we skip months into the future. We don't see Crosshair find out the news - even though Tech died on a mission to retrieve him. We don't watch Omega grieve. She barely seems to notice she's missing a brother. We got a brief allusion in episode two. It took three episodes to even mention his name in passing. Five episodes in everyone got their chance to look sad about him, but only for a few seconds and only when his skills were relevant. Compared to the gorgeous callback to Mayday in the same episode, it felt shallow. He had to have been more important than this didn't he?

Episodes 6 & 7 felt like maybe there was a reason. We see a new masked assassin that gets extra focus, who got put through a series of Tech-adjacent situations, whose beef with Crosshair was just a little too personal, who survived longer than all the rest but stayed masked. Rex talks about losing brothers, but Hunter says nothing about the brother they lost. I hoped it all meant something, that this was the reason that he felt so much like he was thrown away, so that he could come back in.

More one off mentions that only really come up when it's about how useful Tech would have been. More poking at the wound that still felt open and raw because we'd never gotten any closure. The closest we get is a single scene in episode eleven, so late in the season and so brief that I thought that couldn't possibly be it.

CX-2 comes back, and he talks like Tech. He's still not unmasked. I really need him to be something because otherwise what was it all for?

The most emotion comes in Juggernaut, from Phee. Its a highlight because it actually feels like it was about him, like he mattered as a person. It's episode twelve and we finally talk about him like a person. We never saw her get the news either.

Episodes thirteen and fourteen pass without any mentions at all. We're running out of time. Episode 15 hits and we get one raw one from Crosshair that Clone Force 99 died with Tech. It's the first time they directly say he's dead in so many words. It's the season finale. CX-2 is a nobody it turns out, and he dies faceless. Everyone gets a happy ending and after over a year of wondering if we'd ever get closure, it turns out Tech's just dead. But look how happy everyone else is!

Everyone gets to grow old. Except the autistic one of course. He's just dead and it hardly feels like it mattered at all. Did you know Wrecker and Hunter don't use his name once in season three? Omega and Echo mention him once each. Crosshair twice, only once with any emotion behind it. Phee tops the charts at three mentions, two by name and one by nickname. We see his goggles four times. I kept count.

There was never a bigger plan, this was just all he was worth. We spent two seasons on Crosshair's absence. We spent a whole episode dealing with it when Echo decided to go with Rex. Tech dies though and all his life amounted to was a handful of mentions when his skills would have been useful, some shots of his broken goggles, and endless cooing out of the text over how meaningful his sacrifice was. Too meaningful to take back, of course, even as Ventress is brought back from her own sacrifice.

I had really, really thought that this time autistic life would be worth more than autistic death. That a character that felt so carefully handled couldn't have just been thrown away for shock value, barely to even be mentioned again, his memory used to string us along to keep us watching. If you added up every mention and shot through season 3 it might actually clock in at less time than was spent on Mayday's send off.

I'm an adult. I'll survive, though the sting of seeing yet another character like me used as a stepping stone for everyone else's happy ending will take a while to fade. But I think about the child I used to be who needed a character like Tech. And I think about how it would have felt to actually get that only to watch him die a handful of episodes later as a side note to his family's story, barely even mentioned again. How badly it would have hurt, how deep it would have scarred.

I'm not that child anymore. But there are a lot of autistic kids out there that are the same as I used to be, and they're learning for the first time that people like us don't get happy endings. Instead they die so that everyone around them can rise up, and they might even get mentioned a few times. But don't worry. Everyone will tell you how meaningful and special it is and how delusional you were to ever hope for anything else.

The Bad Batch still means a lot to me. I think it always will. I love the characters. I love the family, and all the potential they had. But the sting of not belonging in this happy ending is there, and it's deep. It's been a long time since I trusted a show. It'll be a long time before I risk trusting another. And I hope that the autistic kids trying to learn how to close their hearts off behind new walls are doing okay.

[dragoncopper]

The Apparition

Summary: You have been feeling a presence for months. You are sure that you are losing your mind. But then the presence makes itself known to you. Your soulmate finally found you. Word Count: 20k (take a moment) Pairing: Female Reader x Noah Sebastian Warnings: Major character death. Lots of talk about death. Smut - oral sex (f receiving), p in v, unprotected sex, fluffy loving sex, fingering. More warnings: This is the first work I have written that I am posting. I really hope someone enjoys it.

The continuation or bonus chapter... here.

The whole story on A03 here.

A/N While this is mostly a fluff piece, there are quite sad moments in the story and lots of crying. This is a work of fiction. There are mentions of Noah's past and as we do not have good information, I filled in the blanks. This is not an accurate depiction of his past.

I used Noah's playlist on Spotify to help me with music choices. These are, however, the songs that I felt fit with the story: Sleep Token - The Apparition (obviously). Sleep Token - Telomeres. Hozier - Work Song.

I have proofread it myself, so there might (for sure) be some errors.

I will post a link to A03 also.

1. You You would not say that you believed in ghosts. Not at all. It made no sense and your brain needed something to make sense for you to accept it. However, lately you have been noticing things, and it has been happening for a while, but you have always made it off as nothing. Surely, you just made a mistake, forgot that you had done it. But it has come to the point where you cannot deny it anymore.

It started with simple things, like you would be certain that you did not leave your pen there on the desk. Sure that you did not open the curtains in your bedroom. Items in cupboards just slightly out of place. These things were so easy to dismiss as nothing. But then you started feeling like someone was in the room with you, a presence – this was not a scary feeling at all, more comforting, like the presence was there for good reasons. You sometimes felt a slight warmth, like a breath near you. Even your pet would look at something that you could not see, never reacting in an alarming way but just looking.

Intellectually, you knew it did not make sense. You also knew that if you were really feeling these things, it should probably worry you more than what it did.

Dreams have been more vivid, you still have a hard time remembering what you dream, but they have changed. You would often wake up feeling incredibly sad, even crying. You would also wake up mid-laugh with no memory of what caused these emotions in you. And most damning was that you would be sure that you had been held – still feeling the warmth of an arm around you or a hand holding yours, even though you were very much alone in your bed.

This was not limited to your home. Although it was rare, you would occasionally feel a hand on the small of your back when you were stressed, a hand on your shoulder when you would start to panic, a whispered ‘breathe’ when you became angry.

Because your brain longed for logic, because you have always been one to look for rational explanations, you had tried to figure it out. Your conclusions came to the fact that you probably needed to see a professional. But you did not do that. You do not really know why not.

One night you woke up, not sure what woke you, but there was an unmistakable hand holding yours. You felt the weight of it, the heat, the size. You took a deep breath and tried to stay calm, because you couldn’t see anything in the dark. You squeezed the hand gently and it reciprocated with equal tenderness. You reached your other hand over to feel, too scared to move the hand being held. But you knew if you tried to touch this hand it would disappear and that just broke your heart, made it clench in pain. So, you left it. You just held the hand, trying to get information about the hand without seeing it or moving again. The hand was larger than yours, long slender fingers and it held yours with deliberateness.

Another night you were woken by a voice whispering your name, right by your ear. You were sure that it was him even though him talking or making any sound was very rare. You woke up, smelling smoke and immediately shot up to see what was going on. A field nearby had caught fire, causing big billows of orange smoke to be visible when you looked out the window. You could see the flames, but it wasn’t near enough to be of danger to you, but the wind was blowing some of the smoke in your direction so you closed the windows. You were almost relieved when you smelled the smoke on the curtains the next morning, because you were sure for a second, you had dreamt the whole thing.

Things started escalating as soon as October hit.

You would feel the bed dip with a weight behind you, but no one was ever there. When you unlocked your phone in the morning, a song would be paused, ready to play. It was sometimes songs you knew and loved and sometimes songs you had never heard, never knew existed. The song would always have something in it that you needed – lyrics that made you feel hopeful or even just a fun song to lighten your mood. You would always try to accept the message as best as you could. You felt the hand in yours more often. You realised it was not as often as you would have liked.

The disappointment in you when no song waited for you in the morning was enough to ruin your day. You knew that you were losing your mind – and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

2. Noah I was near her and that was what was important. I knew that I was better when I was near her. More real. But I kept reliving a moment in my life that evening and it just would not stop. I knew that my emotions bled through to her often, so I tried so hard to keep these memories at bay because they were not pleasant for me and I knew she would feel some of it in some way.

Memories were very vague for me, there was so much of my life and who I was that I just cannot recall. But certain pieces were clear, some just less fuzzy. I sometimes did not even know myself.

The memory was of the day that I died. This one was annoyingly clear. The sun was shining bright, it was a hot day. I had the window of the car rolled down. When my dad lost control of the vehicle everything slowed down in my mind, like I had time to process and stop what was happening, prevent this tragedy from taking the lives of everyone in that car that day. But I couldn’t. I remember bracing my hand on the roof of the car as it started to flip, my head being smashed so painfully against the frame of the car. The continuous motion that felt like it went on for so long. When it finally stopped, I was lying there, the sun burning me as I watched blood pooling around us. Most of the blood came from a head wound my father had sustained. I knew they were all dead. I knew I was too. I made it the longest, only officially dying in the hospital a few hours later. All alone.

I cannot even remember what car we were in. I cannot remember who else was in the car. I cannot remember what my father looked like. But the feeling of my pain shooting through my body was detailed in my mind. Did I even have a mind anymore? Over and over this played. I knew she was dreaming about it when she started clenching her hands into fists and her breathing became uneven. I did not want her to have bad dreams. She would not even understand where this dream came from.

I have been able to touch things lately. Not just accidental movements after trying for ages like it has been for years. I have tried leaving her notes in the beginning. But I could never hold the pen successfully. It took immense concentration in the beginning, but it has been getting easier slowly. Now I could leave her notes if I wanted to, but what do I say to her after years of being here with her. She can hear me sometimes, but I do not want to scare her. I try to be subtle. Sometimes I just feel like she needs me. And I wish I could be what she needed so bad. So, this evening, I lay down next to her and hold her fists between my hands as best I can. Hoping to provide some comfort while we both live through the accident repeatedly.

3. You You woke gasping through a sob. Your head hurt, your muscles were so tense, but you remembered a lot of the dream. You knew the images were not yours. You knew you had to keep remembering. So, you leap out of bed as fast as you can, head pounding at the sudden movement. You went straight for a pen and the first scrap of paper you could reach. You wrote down some of the images before they flew away never to be recalled again.

Car accident. Yellow car. Blood. Tattoos.

You tried to think of more. You really tried so hard, and added ‘hospital’ to the list. A fat tear splashed on the paper and then only did you realise you were still sobbing. You stood up straight, wiped your cheeks and tried to take a deep breath, but it shook. You got ready for work, washing your face with cold water. The whole day, you were distracted and you could not focus. You have had dreams that were strange before, where you couldn’t remember the details. Writing down the memories of this one worked so well, that while you were constantly clutching at the crumpled paper in your pocket, you didn’t need it anymore, you knew the words on the paper so well now.

The tattoos were new. You knew it was significant. You feel like the accident was strangely familiar to you in a way, but the tattoos that covered the arms and hands of the person was a new detail. You regularly closed your eyes throughout the day trying to visualize what they looked like. There were tattoos on his neck also, but his face was clear, pale and smooth. You always had a feeling he was a man. A male? You felt sure now. You felt utter frustration that you could not remember what the tattoos were of.

You took a deep breath when you felt a warmth on your shoulder. He was here. Focus on anything you could remember, even if it seemed silly, you told yourself.

Red, there were red features in a mostly black and grey mass of art covering his arms. You hoped it was not blood that you saw.

You saw blood pooling from wounds sustained in the accident. So much blood. The driver had black hair. And he had dark hair also, but not black.

Then an image shot through your head of a hand pressing flat against the roof of the car in desperation to stop himself from getting hurt. The hand was the most clear, vivid image you have ever managed about him. The hand was really large, with slender fingers, exactly what you felt when your hand was held during the night. But now you had bright light shining on it and you knew so much more. The nails were short and neat. The thumb was bony and stood out far to the side. The tattoos were so clear, there was no way your mind could have come up with this. An image of a goat with red eyes and a red horn on the back of his hand, very elaborate calligraphy on his knuckles and a Leaf-Village symbol on his index finger. A crescent moon right where his index finger meets his hand on his thumb’s side.

You grabbed a pen and tried drawing what you could remember, it was not great, but it was something. You took the drawing, the paper from your pocket which you tried to smooth out and put them between the pages an empty notebook you found in your bookshelf. That evening, you placed the book and a pen right by your bed in case you needed to take notes again.

You had taken medication during the day to calm yourself down and to help with the pounding headache, so you fell asleep quite easily. You felt his hand rest on your arm as you were falling asleep and you pictured the tattoo there.

4. Noah There was a strange hopefulness in me as I watched her draw the picture of the back of my hand. She truly saw me in the dream. I wished that it could have been a better dream, one that was not terrible for the both of us. But it clearly stuck with her.

As I was laying with her, that very hand resting on her arm, I wondered if there were other ways I could tell her who I am. Who I was. Despondently, I tell myself, yet again, that I barely knew who I was. I could not even remember my name.

Since the tattoos got her attention though, I searched through my mind to find a memory that had something to do with my tattoos. I could see them all on myself now. I had many. Sparser on the legs but still so many to choose from. I thought of the Moon Lady on my leg, I had fond memories of getting her done. Not super specific, but I was laughing with the artist. It felt lighter, happier and I kept thinking of that, while slowly making circles with my fingers on her skin.

5. You Yellow walls, framed pictures, happiness.

You were laying on the couch, your hair damp from the shower, the window open to allow the cool morning breeze in. Your eyes were closed as you tried to relive the dream you had last night. The whole vibe was so different from the previous dreams that you enjoyed it and felt such relief to not feel your heart clench, the moment you woke up, with sadness.

He was getting a tattoo done on the outside of his left leg, just above the ankle. He was laying down then sitting up - constantly changing position throughout. The artist was a man about his age, with a mass of dark hair pulled back in a mess at the back of his head. While you couldn’t know what they were talking about, there was clearly a bond between them, joking and laughing all the while. You tried to focus on him. You needed to know more. His hair was long, well past his shoulders. Dark brown eyes. A smile that made your heart clench. He smiled with his whole face. His eyes squinting almost shut, a brief exhale with white teeth showing. He would also pull a pained face every now and then from the tattoo gun dragging across his skin.

You tried to get clues about the tattoo shop, to look out of a window, but his attention was focused on his friend and you couldn’t really get anything useful. You wish you could record the dreams and go through them frame by frame.

You felt fingers carefully touching your hair. You keep your eyes closed trying to determine if it was maybe the breeze, but it was definitely not. You were always so scared of scaring him away if you were to look or even reach out and touch his hand back.

The fingers started to gently comb through, as gentle as every time he decided to touch. It was rare during the day, it mostly happened when he thought you were sleeping. You sighed deeply, enjoying the feeling. And then you smell him. It was brief whiff of clean, fresh, masculine.

Tears well up immediately and you do not even know why.

You swallow, take a deep breath and decide to be brave. “Can you hear me?” you whispered.

The hand disappeared from your hair. You did not move. You waited a while and then you felt the hand back at your hair, stroking a strand away from your face. You hold your hand out, palm up. “Can you hear me?” you ask again. A single finger strokes a line in your palm. Your breath catches. The touch sent a wave of goosebumps across your whole body.

“Who are you?” you asked. You wait for a long time and get no answering touch. “Do you know who you are?” it was the only thing you could think of. A moment, then a cross was drawn in your palm. Your heart starts to beat so much faster. You sit up, folding your legs in front of you, keeping your eyes closed. You placed a hand on each knee, palm up. You felt such nervousness, not wanting to scare him off, but desperately wanting answers. You needed to ask carefully.

“Do you have tattoos? Did you have tattoos?” you grimace, not knowing how to approach this with more tact if you did not have more information. One line on your left palm. Yes. “Why are you here? With me?” You get no response. “Do you know why you are here?” You try again. Again, no response. You badly wanted to open your eyes. You do not even know why you were keeping them shut. You blink them open and you see absolutely nothing out of the ordinary.

“Are you still here?” One line. Yes.

“Are you trapped here?” A cross. No.

“Do you know who I am?” Yes.

“Did you die?” your voice is barely audible. Yes.

“In a car accident?” Yes. “I am sorry.” He squeezed your hand.

“Do you need help?” No response. “Do you need closure or peace or something?” No.

“I am not afraid of you. Should I be?” No.

Each of his reactions were slow and deliberate. It felt so real when he touched your hand that you wanted to close your eyes again, so that you could picture him there. But he was there. You needed to know the rules of this. He has spoken before. “Can you speak?” A hesitant no.

“You have spoken to me before?” Yes.

“But you cannot now?” No.

“Only sometimes?” Yes.

He took both of your hands, and pulled them together, giving a brief squeeze before the hands disappeared. No more questions.

6. Noah I enjoyed it when she was home the whole day, because it was so much easier to stay present. I was not always. I disappeared sometimes. She was puttering around her small place dressed in stretchy pants and a large shirt, her hair messy. She was so beautiful like this.

She had on a playlist of all the songs I have left her. I could not understand how I could not remember my own name, but had a whole cache of music in my brain. My head?

Each song I chose was with a reason, but it often worried me she would see the wrong reason. She would stop what she is doing every now and then to listen to the lyrics, sometimes even looking them up. Sometimes she looked at her phone with an expression on her face that clearly said she did not like the song, it made me smile. Some songs she would straight up laugh at me – it felt like that. Some she would sit and listen, nodding along or tears welling up. Some songs she knew and she would sing along and even dance. I joined her, but she did not notice.

Things have changed since our limited conversation. I did not scare her and that made me bold. When she was on the couch, listening to the music still, legs crossed as she lay with her arms above her head, I sat by her. When she fell asleep, I got closer and ran the back of my fingers across her cheek. She leaned into my touch, a small smile on her face. Maybe she was not as asleep as I had thought. So, I kept stroking her skin, then traced an eyebrow, ran a finger down her nose. She reacted so perfectly. Times like this I wish I were real with more heartache and passion than I could explain.

“Thank you for the songs,” she exhaled. I cupped her cheek then. I kissed her forehead.

She felt it, because her eyes shot open, but she could not see me. She had a blush on her cheeks. Adorable.

“Did you just….?” She could not finish the question. Her palm was not ready for me to answer, but I as soon as I touched her hand, she flattened her hand, and I answered her.

She was quiet so long I started to panic, thinking I had crossed a line. I managed a soft, whispered, “Sorry.” This was easier it seemed when I was in stressed.

Her eyes went wide, and she looked around, but she still could not see me. “I heard you,” she beamed. “Don’t be sorry, it was sweet.” I felt relief.

She touched her fingers to her forehead where I had kissed her. After some time, she said, “I don’t know if you have control over what I see in my dreams about you… but you need to give me a clue so I can figure this out.” I drew a line in her palm, meaning that I will try.

I tried very hard, putting all my concentration into it, “Is it okay that I am here?” I whispered.

She frowned. “Did you ask if it was okay that you are here?” she whispered back.

Yes.

She took a long breath before she answered. “In the beginning, I was sure that I was losing my sanity. I was a maybe a little afraid. But you became a pleasant addition to my days.”

I smiled at her, but she did not know.

“I miss you sometimes,” she added. “Where do you go when you are not here?”

“I don’t know,” I managed.

“How long have you been here?”

“Years.”

“Years,” she exclaimed. Her face contorted in confusion. “I was not aware of that. You never made yourself known.”

“Couldn’t.”

“Why here? Why me?”

I could not get another answer out. So instead, I placed my hand in hers, pressing our palms together.

7. You You woke up gently with your fingers wrapped around two of his fingers. Without letting go, you stretched and rubbed your eyes with the other hand. “You did it,” you said sleepily. You turn back to where he had to be next to you, and brought your other hand up to cup his. If you kept your eyes closed, you could forget that he was not real, that is how solid he felt. “I saw you walk out of the tattoo shop,’ you sigh. “I saw the sign.” His other hand joined. “I just need to figure out how that leads me to you.” You got up later and sat at your computer with a cup of coffee ready to start the search. Mixed emotions coursed through you. You typed the name of the tattoo shop and immediately got a list of results. It was in a small town very far from where you were now. You have visited this town before, loved it, thought of going back many times. You were confused by this information. How did he end up here, so far away, with you?

Now that you knew the location, you knew what had to be searched next. But you did not really want to. Getting answers here would make everything too real. It would take away the small morsel of hope you had.

You felt his hand on your shoulders, quietly encouraging you to continue.

You typed in the name of the town followed by 'fatal car accidents'.

There were not many results, but you reluctantly started clicking through, reading news articles and other bits, quickly skipping if you saw it was not the one you needed. Eventually you clicked on a short article in the digital newspaper. It had a small black and white photo and your whole chest felt constricted. It was him. You read through it slowly.

You turn your chair around completely, so you could face him, held your hands out and he took both with his. “This is a little confusing,” you breathe. He squeezed. “You were alone in the car when you… “

He took one of his hands away. “The article says it was dark and the roads were slippery from rain and that you must have lost control of the car. It doesn’t give much more than that,” by this time you were speaking so softly. You gave him a moment, knowing this is not what he remembered. “In the dreams the sun was so bright,” you add. You knew he understood.

“Your name is Noah,” you finally said it out loud. His name feeling almost familiar on your tongue. He takes your hand again and squeezes so hard it is almost painful. “Noah Sebastian Davis.”

Then, while the tears are gathering in your eyes, one of them escaping and slipping down your cheek, your heart breaking for this man that was not really there, you saw a flicker of him. Like signals were lost in his broadcast and saw him on his knees in front of you his head hanging, his hair, cut short, falling forward, while his hands were up in yours.

You suck in a breath so fast, and feel tingling goosebumps run through your whole body. You tried to keep your cool, not knowing what to say. He was processing some significant news and you did not want to be insensitive by freaking out about seeing him. Even if it was brief, the image was seared into your mind. The stunning beauty of the man kneeling in front of you would be easy to recall and you would do so often.

Once you have calmed down, you tried to focus again. “Do you remember this accident at all?” you asked him. He drew a cross in your palm. “I will figure it out, don’t worry,’ you reassure him. “We will put the puzzle together.” He squeezed your hands again, both of them.

You hear a faint and sad, “Thank you.”

“I’m sorry it was not happier news,” you say equally softly.

“Thank you for my name,” he clarifies.

You squeeze your eyes shut, realising what a big deal it must be for him to know that. “It suits you,” you say with a small smile.

That night as you were reading before it was time to sleep, you felt the dip on the bed and then an arm drape around your middle. You smiled sleepily and put the book down. “I saw you today, Noah,” you said. “When I was telling you the news, I saw you for a moment.” His arm tightened briefly. But other than that, you got no response. You fell asleep feeling the weight of his arm, seeing the image of him in your mind.

8. Noah I was lying next to her, she was sleeping deeply, her deep steady breaths accompanied by the lightest of snores. Learning this knowledge about myself was such a peculiar feeling that I did not know what to make of it. My name felt foreign and so familiar at the same time. How could I not have known my own name. But knowing it felt like such an important piece of the puzzle of who I was. I would say the name, trying it out, often. My name was a bigger shock that finding out that I did not die like I thought. My mind must have gotten things mixed up. But knowing I was alone in the car was a relief. Such a small mistake. And it cost me so much. I am aware that I do not even know everything that I am missing out on. But the heaviest of the burdens was not meeting her for real. The real me. Because I know we would have. I know it. Our souls have a bond that I cannot explain. It aches in me to know what we are both missing out on because of my mistake.

She sighed, rolled over, her arm reaching out and came to rest across my ribcage. Or where my ribcage should be. This was the first time this has happened. Normally when she rolls over where I am, she goes right through me, and she does not even know. Now, she is holding me. She knows, even in her sleep, she tightened her hold, pulling us closer together.

My moments of realness have been happening more often. I was trying to figure out why, what causes it, so I can make it happen more often. High emotions on my part definitely seem to play a role. But her feelings were also a factor. Hers were harder to solve. But I felt like I knew her better than I knew myself. In my bones, in my soul, I knew her. As she was getting to know me, it made me more real to her. But it had a physical effect on me also.

I rest my hand on her arm, and try to wiggle closer to her. I rest my lips against her forehead. ***

I leave a song on her phone. A calm but uplifting song in major. I want her to feel peace and contentment, because I do after hours of holding each other. She plays it on repeat while she gets dressed, brushes her teeth, fixes her hair. I watch her do mundane things all the time, my soul feeling at peace whenever I am near her. But, also, I feel so strongly for her that even the mundane is magical when she is doing it.

She is in a good mood this morning. Her usual morning grumpiness almost absent completely. While she is making breakfast for herself, she is moving to the song still playing, swaying with the sounds. I take a big risk and go behind her, placing my hands on her hips. She pauses and sucks in a breath, realises it was only me and relaxes again.

I have kept touching to hands only for so long, that the new sensation of her holding me while she sleeps and touching her so casually is overwhelming to me.

“Close your eyes,” I whisper right by her ear and I can see the goosebumps rise across the skin of her neck. Without hesitation she closes her eyes. The trust she has in me.

I turn her around, and rest my arms around her middle and start to sway the both of us side to side. Her hands reached out, her eyes still closed, and felt around, touching my chest, flattening her palms against me and running them upwards, slowly until she found my shoulders, resting her hands there close to my neck. She swayed with me happily, until she started to shuffle her feet to get us to start rotating slowly on the spot in the kitchen, her breakfast forgotten.

She was smiling in the beginning, but by the second play through of the song the smile faded and tears started falling from her shut eyes. Her lip and chin were quivering, like she was trying to hold back. I wiped away the tears on her cheeks, holding her face for a moment and then holding her closer to me, so that her head was resting against my chest. I was a lot taller than her. She cried for a while, keeping her eyes squeezed shut – I knew why.

“Why are you never real?” she asked, her voice strained. I had nothing to say. I just held her tighter.

9. You He has not been present for a few days. You are worried and you miss him more than you care to admit. He is in the back of your mind the whole time, even when you are busy with other things. You have saved the photo of him from the newspaper on your phone and you look every so often. You think about the change in hairstyle from that day you saw him when you told him his name.

You are worried that the whole thing was all in your imagination. You also worry about why he would stay away this long if it was not your imagination. Every day you wish and hope that he would show up, be home when you got there, that he would leave you a song, a sign, anything.

It was six days after the dance in the kitchen when he was back. And the relief you felt was immense. You woke up in the middle of the night, and he was wrapped around you. Never before have you felt so much of him. His legs were tangled with yours, his arm around you pulling you back into his chest, his head in your hair. It was the best feeling.

You have stopped trying to make sense of this. You knew he was not real. But yet, he was so real. You had no idea how you could feel him, hear him and know this ghost or spirit or entity so well. You held him too, gripping his arm, as best you could, drinking in the feeling of having him back.

“Do I make you sad?” he whispered to you. His voice sent shivers down your spine.

“No,” you answer immediately, no thought necessary. “Why would you think that?” you whisper back.

“You cry often when I’m with you,” he said so softly it was barely audible.

You swallow and take moment. “I am sad sometimes. I feel sad about what happened to you. I feel sad that I could not meet you before it happened. But you do not make me sad.”

You feel him nod against you in understanding. He squeezed you with his whole body. He is real this evening like never before.

“Is that why you left?” you say turning to look at him even though you could not see him.

“Yes,” he breathes. “I don’t want you to be sad.”

Emotion wells up in your chest so much that it aches. But you swallow the tears. Instead, you take a breath and force more neutral tone to your voice. “You make the sadness better. I always feel better when you are here. I really missed you.”

“I’m sorry,” he kisses behind your ear. “I missed you, too.”

“Where did you go?”

“I don’t really go anywhere. If I am not here or with you, I kind of disappear,” he explains. “I came to check on you a few times.”

“I didn’t realise,” you say.

“I will always check if you are okay,” he says, his voice fuller.

“Why me?” you asked him, not for the first time.

He was quiet for a long time before he answered. “After I died, my whole being knew I had to find you. My soul, or whatever, went straight to you. I didn’t know why. But when I found you, everything felt right.”

You have never heard his voice this much; it was deep and beautiful. You could listen to him forever. What he was saying was even better. “It does feel right,” you agree.

“I think I can hold you and talk to you from sheer relief that I am near you again,” he says this quickly.

“I am not complaining,” you smile. Keeping your eyes shut, just in case, despite the fact that it was dark in the room, you turn to face him and blindly search until you have your hand on his cheek, you feel his soft skin with slight stubble. How is he not real? “Please don’t leave again.”

Then he presses his lips against yours, slowly and deliberately. You inhale deeply through your nose. He was warm against you, you felt how his lips molded into the kiss, his body pulling yours closer. He pulls away, only to kiss you again and again. He was firm but gentle. It was everything.

“Fuck,” he exhales. “I have wanted to do that for years.”

With those words leaving his mouth, you see him again. You didn’t even realise your eyes were open. But in the dark you saw his outline, his dark hair a contrast against his pale skin. You wanted all the lights on, but you knew it would break whatever spell was cast in this moment.

So instead, keeping your eyes open to try and not miss a thing, you kiss him and you are more forceful than he was. His hand comes up over your ear as he holds you, and when you part your lips slightly to deepen the kiss he moans sweetly and does the same. Your eyes close because you could not help it. It was too good, too much and not enough. His hands were not still for long, his impossibly long fingers in your hair, in the shell of your ear, his thumb stroking your skin. When his tongue touches yours, so soft, the sensation courses through your whole body and you grip him, trying to get him closer, as close as you can get. He makes sounds that sound like desperation. You could die from this and your ghost would be his.

You fall asleep with your head on his shoulder, him stroking your hair, his one thigh between yours. If you could keep your eyes open all night you would, you were terrified of missing one moment.

But, gloriously, when you opened your eyes with the first rays of sunshine coming through the curtains, he was still there and visible. You were facing each other, still close together, clinging to each other almost. You had to pull your head back a bit to see his face properly. You drank him in, struggling to resist the urge to touch. His hair, shorter than the photo you have, messy, forward over his forehead, hiding his eyebrows. The slight pout on his lips, the slight stubble on his face. He was perfection. Literally nothing on his face was less than perfect.

You traced a finger down the length of his straight nose, lightly. When he started to wake up, he started fading and your heart sank. “Noah,” you say watching him fade into nothing.

“I’m right here,” he says, pulling you closer.

10. Noah “What are you doing?” She is sitting up in bed, back propped up against pillows, the glow from her tablet illuminating her face.

She startled a bit, looked in my direction, but I knew she couldn’t see me right now. “Research,” she said her eyes back to the screen. “I think I have found something.”

“What did you find?” I sit next to her, close enough that I could see the screen too.

She winced. “It’s not all good news, unfortunately,” she starts. “From what I could gather, you were twenty-seven when you died. The dream I had of you dying with other people was bothering me, because the article said you were alone. Also, in the dream the sun was so bright.”

I just scooted closer. Talking was a bit difficult this evening. I laid my head on her shoulder.

She leaned into me before she carried on. “You were in another car crash when you were eleven, with your dad and other people. Everyone died in that crash, except for you. You must have combined the memories in your mind.”

Flashes of the blood pooling went through my head and suddenly I could see my younger self there instead. Absolute panic knowing everyone was dead, being pretty sure I was too. It made sense.

“Then I also know the tattoo artist’s name. Nicholas Ruffilo. You were very close friends; I found his social media and there are some photos of the two of you.”

She swiped through some photos and I felt a tug in my chest at these memories that I could not really remember. But I felt a connection to him if nothing else. It was the strangest feeling, seeing myself, knowing it is me, but not feeling the full link I was supposed to.

“It’s strange, isn’t it,’ she said putting her hand in the direction of my knee, finding it eventually and keeping it there as a reassuring gesture. I nod against her. “Do you remember any of this?”

“Not really,” I manage to whisper.

“Lots of instruments and middle fingers in the photos,” she snorts lightly.

I chuckled quietly.

“I can’t find any information about your dad, however. I think it’s a dead end there. But I can try and make contact with him,” she gestures to the photos, “I am sure he will have information.”

“Maybe.”

“Is it too much?” she asks.

I take her hand when I reply, “It’s a bit overwhelming, yes. But thank you.” I kiss her cheek.

“Okay, I will wait,” she says tenderly and puts the tablet away. She then comes closer and places her forehead against my one cheek, her free hand cupping my other cheek. It is a gesture of comfort. “Sorry if I pried too much.”

I shake my head, bringing the hand I was holding up to kiss it. “I appreciate you.”

I start to maneuver myself that I am between her legs, laying on my stomach, resting my head on her chest. I wrap my arms around her as much as a can. I can feel her heartbeat against my ear, I breathe her in. She wiggles slightly lower on the pillows and immediately holds me back, her arm across my back, then she gently scratches across my back, sending pleasurable shivers through me. Her one leg even hooks over one of mine.

“I appreciate you, too.” She says after some time.

“This,” I sigh, “is so much more than I ever thought I could wish for.” I whisper hoping my ability to talk does not slip away. “When I came to you, I thought I would just hang here forever, never being able to interact with you at all.”

Her scratching continues rhythmically. “You being here has made my life so much better,” she whispered back.

I was eternally grateful for her acceptance of this entire situation exactly the way it was. With neither of us really understanding anything. But I was not sure if it was as good for her as it was for me. Regardless of how I feel, I was still not real.

11. You There was a song waiting for you, it was almost every morning now. It was upbeat with a female voice. You listened while waiting for the kettle to boil. As usual you took a while to fully wake up, so at first you had it at low volume, not really listening with attention yet. A lot of the times, Noah’s intention was the vibe and not necessarily the lyrics.

But a few play throughs later, as you were sipping your coffee a few words were captured by your brain and you stopped mid-swallow. You grab your phone and sure enough you were not imagining it. Touching Yourself by The Japanese House.

Your mind starts sounding like static in your own ears as you try to process what this means. Because you have wondered a few times how often he is present without you knowing. You knew he was not always present or whatever. You also trusted that he would leave you in moments that would require privacy, like bathroom moments and so on. You would also be lying to yourself if you did not admit that it has crossed your mind many times in certain moments; whether he was watching.

With your face hidden in your hands, you say, “Noah, are you here?”

“Yes,” he says sheepishly.

“Where are you?” you asked, looking up, but you could not see him.

“I am by the fridge,” he says.

You felt stupid as you look in the general direction of the fridge to talk to him, you were certainly looking in the wrong place, you often thought it must be funny sight to him. “This song,” you start.

“Yeah,” he says. You can hear the smile in his voice.

“What are you…” you trail off, the awkward feeling getting stronger by the second. “Are you trying to tell me something.”

“I guess so,” he says. There is a breathiness to his voice, like he is laughing.

“This one was not for the vibes?” you say your voice small.

“Well, no,” he says he sounded slightly closer. “The vibes are nice though.”

“Oh God,” you say hiding your face again. Not knowing if you should laugh or panic. “You were there?”

“Please don’t be embarrassed,” he says, very close now, but you almost want to back away from him.

“Noah, what the hell?” You are panicking and laughing at the same time, since your brain did not know which one to pick. You look up, wishing you could see his face to help you read the situation better.

“I’m sorry,” he says, “I left as soon as I could. But…”

He takes your hands, and this anchors you. You knew where he was and felt him, making it easier to have this conversation a tiny bit. “But,” you say loudly, needing him to finish his thought.

“I cannot always make myself leave, you know,” he says. “I do not always listen to my own instructions.”

“You could have to told me you were there,” you say your voice getting higher in pitch each time you speak.

“I couldn’t make a sound and I was turned away, in the corner trying to leave.”

“You were trapped!?”

“No, that sounds harsh, I just couldn’t do what I knew I had to,” his voice calmer and lower.

Your brain was trying and failing to come up with something to reply with.

“I knew then that I had to tell you that this was a thing that could happen. I don’t want to be creepy. But I didn’t know how to bring it up,” he says his voice soft.

Despite your blush, you burst out laughing, head thrown back, from your belly. He flickered into view. You saw relief and shock on his face. “You decide to tell me with that song!?” You look him right in the eye now.

“Was it that silly?” he asked.

“Yes, you could have just said it. But I appreciate the thought you put into this one.” You grab his face and kiss him quickly. “I am still embarrassed, though.”

“Seriously, don’t be. But, in the future?” he asked.

“Well,” you say feeling weirdly emboldened. “In the future, I will ask if you are there.”

“And then you’ll tell me to fuck off,” he nods.

“Yes,” you kiss his chin, it was all you could reach without him leaning down. “Or, I’ll invite you to stay if you want to.”

His eyes widen as he looks at you, a small smile forming on his lips. “Interesting.”

12. Noah She had the car packed and ready for the very long drive. I was going to tag along as far as it was possible for me to do. But I was very uneasy and nervous about the whole thing. At the same time, I felt excited. I did not know what to expect really. I knew this could be very eye opening or devastating, and mostly for her sake, I hoped it was a good experience.

She had contacted Nicholas and the only excuse she had to see him was to make an appointment for a tattoo. Then she obsessed over which tattoo to get, was in communication with him about the design and decided on a date and time. I had a lot of input on the tattoo and I loved that she even asked me.

We stopped at a store where she ran in for snacks, me following behind, telling her to buy marshmallows. I missed them.

I knew she was not able to see me during most of the drive, but I put myself in charge of the music. She would tell me to skip or make requests if she felt strongly, but mostly we could listen and sing along quite pleasantly. I was nervous about the length of the drive and that she might start feeling sleepy so I kept things upbeat.

“Are you nervous?” I asked her.

“Yes,” she said immediately. “How do I have this conversation without sounding like a crazy person?”

“I think you just need to be honest.” I said helpfully.

“Noah, honesty is not going to do the trick here. I need to convince him that this,” she waves her hand in my direction, “is happening without being weird. This is going to for sure be weird.”

I try to feed her a marshmallow from the packet, but she shakes her head. “Maybe you should wait until the tattoo is finished. What if he chases you out or something?” She looks at me in the wrong place, in horror.

“I didn’t think of that,” she said.

We stop about half way to fill up the car, she went to the bathroom and got a coffee. She was tired, so we did a sing along for a while to get her more alert.

“What if you find out something about me that you don’t like,” I finally ask what has been bothering me most.

She was quiet for a moment while she thought about it. “I am not very worried about that,” she said. “It did cross my mind, but I am sure there won’t be anything that bad. We all have pasts and did things we are not proud of.”

“I am terrified about what you might find.”

She reached out and I grabbed her hand, interlacing our fingers. “Don’t be,” she smiled reassuringly. “You let me know when I need to stop, and I will.”

We held hands the rest of the way, or my hand was on her thigh.

When we got to the bed and breakfast she immediately went for a shower and I waited for her on the bed. She came out of the bathroom wearing her usual oversized t-shirt she slept in, her legs bare, hair wet. She grabbed her pillow from her bag, threw it on the bed and then towel dried her hair before sitting on the bed next to me.

13. You You were restless, you were stressed and nervous and you felt like something was crawling over your skin. You kept turning, flipping the pillow, taking a sip of water and you just could not settle down. You were exhausted from the drive, but you just could not let go and fall asleep.

Next thing you knew, Noah grabs you around your waist, whispered, “Come here,” and pulls your back so that you are between his legs, your head resting on his shoulder. He pushed the covers off to one side and his large hands were firmly running up and down your arms, like he was trying to get rid of the crawling feeling. He grabbed your hand every now and again when he made his way down your arm, he ran his hand through your hair. “You are okay,” he whispered. “Breathe,” he said.

You did not need much encouragement for that part, because his hands all over you made your breath quicken and deepen. You squeezed your legs together and tried to stop yourself from grabbing him back. You close your eyes firmly and turn your head towards him and press your lips firmly against his neck, he tilts his head ever so slightly to give you better access. You touch your tongue to his skin and taste him and the way it was all him with a bit of salt made you turn slightly in his grip and free your one hand from his ministrations so you could throw your arm around him and hold him in place as you lick up the column of his neck to his jawline. You do this slowly and deliberately.

“Jesus,” he moans and his mouth is desperate to find yours in a crushing kiss. It was a kiss of urgency, like you were holding back for way too long. You definitely were.

You turn your body as much as you can so you can access him more easily as your hands grab at his shoulders. He bites onto your bottom lip and drags his teeth as he pulls away and then bites into your neck gently. You grab his hair at the sensations he was sending through your body. You were both panting. His breath hot against your jaw as he finds his way back to your mouth. You kept your eyes shut.

He makes the bold move, because your boldness was turning into uncertainty for many reasons. He moved out from under you to hover above you, kissing you all the time. Your whole being was burning for him, every part of your body was alive with need for him, but your brain kept wondering how all of this was even possible. You actively decide to not worry about it, because no one knew the answer, not even Noah. So, you would just take whatever you could.

His hand lands on your hip and he runs it down your thigh and then over where he taps lightly. You ease your legs apart and he settles there like it was always where he was meant to be. He runs a single finger along the top of your underwear, back and forth, asking permission. You quickly squeezed his hand as an answer and then pushed his shirt out of the way and up his back, needing more. You manage to wrestle the shirt off him and then he sneaks his hand into your underwear slowly making his way to where you wanted him most.

“Is this okay?” he pants. You open your eyes and there he is in all his glory kneeling between your legs leaning forward on one arm, while the other hand was very gingerly touching you, his hair tousled from your fingers running through it, his dark eyes seemed even darker.

You grab his arm and lean forward needing to be closer to him, “Noah,” you breathe, “yes,” you nod. You kiss him messily and pull him back with you and when his fingers slowly drag through the wetness there, you gasp and he moans. He starts a rhythm with his touching, drawing circles with his fingers and it immediately drives you insane. You grip onto his back with urgency, not even knowing what you are trying to achieve other than to be closer to him, climb inside of him, anything. When your nails dig in, he moans again and the way his voice cracks, the deep tremble that vibrates through his throat is beautiful and filthy. “You are killing me,” you rasp.

He hesitates for a second. “In a good way?”

“God, yes, in a good way,” you barely manage to get out.

Then, he grips the edges of your underwear and starts working them down your hips. You lift slightly so he can slip them off entirely before he is back where he left off.

He kisses you, his lips just pressing against yours with insistence. You hear and feel his breath and you wonder for a second if breathing is necessary for him. But then he stops what he is doing so that he can press a single finger into you. He does this slowly. He squeezed his eyes shut, but you are in awe of him and just how impossibly ethereal he looks that you cannot look away if you tried. “So warm,” he says.

He readjusts himself so that he has better access to you, but this makes him more out of reach and you do not like this, but when he moves that finger inside of you with surety, curling it just slightly you throw your head back and let out a moan of pleasure. This makes him smile. When he adds a second finger, so that his pointer and middle fingers are working together you can feel the tingly, deep feeling starting to build up. He goes slower, like he knows exactly what you are feeling, dragging the feeling out longer. You move your hips along with him, he keeps gently pushing your thighs apart with his body. You reach for him and he grabs your hand, entwining your fingers together without a thought. Then the feeling reaches its peak and the orgasm washes through your entire body in intense but almost gentle way. It does not overwhelm you that you feel you want to push him away, instead when he works his fingers all through the orgasm, you gripping him rhythmically, it is just what you wanted and needed. The feeling is so intense that you feel tears stinging at your eyes, you try to blink them away, knowing that Noah will think he was making you sad.

But he already saw, and he was kissing your eyes, running his hand across your face to push your hair back as finally removes his fingers from you and then he lays between your legs, his weight comforting against you. “Are you okay?” he asks.

You can just nod.

“You are so amazing,” he whispers in your ear, he keeps his head buried in the crook of your neck. You reach your arm around him and hug him to you as close as you can. You squeeze your thighs around his hips. Then he maneuvers himself so he is next to you and he pulls you closer, so your head is resting tucked under his chin, he tangles your legs together. “Now, please get some sleep,” he mumbles and his arms rests across your waist.

You still wanted to ask about him. You still wanted to overthink the whole reality of everything. But your eyes were heavy, you were warm and so comfortable breathing him in that you fell asleep effortlessly.

14. Noah Nicholas greeted her with a shy warmth when we arrived. He had a beanie pulled over his messy black hair. He showed her to his area, showing her the final design again, asking if she was sure, getting the stencil ready. I kept my hand on her lower back, I could see she was tense, breathing too fast, kept wiping sweat at her brow. She was panicking.

“You can take a moment before we start,” Nick said so calmly and with such kindness. I looked at him and felt familiarity. His mannerisms and slightly awkward demeanor seemed not only familiar but hit me so much deeper than I ever thought it would. After my death I have only ever felt a bond with her. I did not expect the fullness in my heart from seeing someone that had clearly been a dear friend of mine.

She lifts her skirt up where she stands in front of a mirror and Nicholas slides closer on his chair with wheels, holding the stencil. He patiently takes his time and asks her is she is happy with the placement, asks if she is sure. He applies it with gentle precision and rolls back to have a look for himself. When she convinces him that she was happy, he shows her to the bench. She settles herself on the bench he had ready, covered in plastic. She awkwardly tries to find a comfortable position and I can see that this is overwhelming for her. And I understand, the whole thing is a strange situation to say the least. She lays back a little and she exposes her thigh again. Meanwhile he is carefully wrapping the tattoo gun, placing cling wrap everywhere, filling little containers with ink. He is meticulous. While he is distracted, I stand behind her and I rub her back, squeeze her hand, run my fingers through her hair. I cannot offer any verbal reassurance; we are not sure if he would hear.

Both of us are sure that it is only her that can hear me. But we have no basis for this belief. We could be wrong. Now was not the time to test our theory.

Her skin is clammy by the time Nick comes closer to start the process. He asks if she is ready and she nods. He stretched the skin and starts. I can see the pain etched into her eyebrows immediately as Nick draws the first line. She puts a hand behind her back for me and I grab it and hold on.

“It is pretty painful,” Nick laughs softly and kindly. “You just let me know if you need a break or anything.”

“Thank you,” she chokes out. This was worse than she was bargaining for. I feel guilty.

I carefully rub her hand, even massaging at times. I would bend over and kiss her arm, her neck every now and again as a distraction and as encouragement.

“So how did you hear about me?” Nick asks. They have exchanged some pleasantries. Nick was trying to make her feel at ease, but he was also shy and it did not come as naturally to him.

She blushes when he asks this, because she has no idea how to answer this question. She takes a moment, while she is squeezing my fingers so hard. “I actually heard about you from Noah.” She says this while looking intently at him for a reaction of any kind. He stopped tattooing and looked her in the eye, a slight rattled look on his calm features. “Noah?” he says while he is processing the information.

“Yeah. Davis.” She says and I can feel how her heart starts beating even faster.

“Wow, I was not expecting to hear that,” he says softly, he looks down like he was just flooded with memories that were now playing through his mind. In that moment, I wanted to comfort him too. “He’s been gone for three years.” A deep furrow formed on his brow.

She nodded solemnly. “He was very fond of the pieces you did for him,” she said, calculatingly giving very little information.

Nick smiled. “He was so young when we did some of it. Fuck, he was so young when he insisted on getting a sleeve on one whole arm.” The smile faded a bit and he sighed. He shook himself and started tattooing again. “He always was an old soul. Insistent on doing what he wanted, how he wanted, when he wanted.” Nick drew a few lines of the tattoo before he asked, “How did you know him?”

She tensed for a moment. I rubbed her back softly. I was feeling every bit of the emotion in the room too. By the looks of things, I was in a room with the two people that I cared about the most. “I did not know him very well before he died,” she told a half lie. “But I just kept dreaming about the tattoo of the Moon Lady and I thought it must mean something.”

He glanced up briefly and then back to his work on her thigh. “Yeah, he dubbed her the Moon Lady,” he laughed. “I designed her special for him. I also helped him fix the mess of a sleeve he had done when he was way too young.” “You two were close?” she asked quietly.

“He was my best friend.” Nick had a sad look on his face. “Since Noah was fifteen, we just hung out all the time. We had some good times. We actually met because he came looking for work at the tattoo parlour I was apprenticing at.” I was listening to every word he was saying, drinking it all in.

“He had such an independent mind,” he continued. “He was playing for a band and he was so sure that music was his future, he dropped out of school and everything…”

“He dropped out at fifteen?” she asked a little shocked.

“Yeah, he was a different one,” Nick smiled. “I miss him.”

The image of the moth that Nick designed for the tattoo was slowly taking shape, her skin was red and she flinched every time he used the rough paper towel to wipe away at the ink and blood. She was in agony, I could tell.

“This is so much more painful than I ever thought it would be,” she whispered to me while we were in the bathroom. She had asked for a break. “I thought I was tougher than this.”

‘You are doing great,” I whisper back.

“I should have just asked for a coffee date or something and spilled the beans right away,” she was splashing herself with cold water, rubbing her neck.

“You are doing fine,” I insist.

“I really am not, Noah,” she huffs. She stares at me for full minute. “Are you fine?” she asks.

“No,” I answer simply. She takes a step closer and goes down on her knees in front of me where I am sitting on the closed toilet. She takes my hands.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers.

“I feel like I can remember something as soon as he says it. Like he is filling in pieces of a puzzle,” I try to explain. “I want to hug him. Is that silly?”

“No,” she says.

“I don’t like seeing you in pain.”

“It’s my own fault.”

“Maybe you went too big for the first tattoo.”

“Maybe. But everyone always says you should go bigger than you think.”

We kiss there by the toilet in the black and white bathroom, comforting each other as much as we can.

15. You You go back out and smile and grit your teeth through the last end of the shading done on the moth, but you also bite back tears. The whole thing is too much. You are in so much physical pain you are struggling to cope, your heart is going through all the emotions of learning more about Noah. You are also so worried about him and how he might take any news that comes out of this. You are all over the place.

“Tell me more about him,” you prompt.

“He was very private. Only really shared his secrets with the people he was closest to. I don’t remember him ever mentioning you,” Nick’s voice was still soft and kind.

“I’m not trying to pry,” you quickly explain. “I guess I just wish I had the chance to know him before…”

“That accident was tragic,” Nick said. “I could not believe the news when I heard. I was even waiting for him to pat me on the shoulder at his own funeral I was in denial so bad.”

“Slippery roads in the rain, right?” you add.

“Yeah,” Nick nodded. “But he must have been speeding. Noah was always a very responsible driver. You know, especially after what happened when he was young. When his dad died. He always had respect for the rules, he knew the consequences for being reckless too well. I wish I knew what had happened. Wish I could talk to him again.”

“Do you think something was suspicious?” you ask.

“Sometimes,” Nick sighs. “But I have made peace with the fact that I will never know.”

“Accidents can happen so quickly,” you try to comfort. “I just always hope that he was at peace. That it was quick. That he didn’t suffer.” Once the words were out of your mouth you realise how hard you really did hope that. How much it haunted you that Noah went through a death. You also realise that you have never said this to Noah, because you feel how he rests his head against your shoulder. You want to turn and hug him, hold him.

“God, I hope so too,” Nick says, his voice small. “From the police report it sounds like that it was quick. His injuries were severe.” He stops tattooing for a moment to lean back so that he was looking at the ceiling. Your heart was breaking for both these men.

“I’m sorry,” is all you can think to say.

“If I cry now, I will have to resanitise everything,” he tries to chuckle. He takes a deep breath and continues to tattoo.

You bite back tears yourself, blinking as quickly as you can. You can’t think of what else to say.

“You haven’t said how you know Noah,” he said.

You notice the present tense. “Him and I were talking online. For a few months,” you lie quickly. Knowing that the truth would not go over well at all at his moment. “I had a great time talking to him. It was texts only.” You had to account for your limited knowledge.

“Oh,” Nick says nodding.

You do not say anything again.

You drive back to the guest house, your leg wrapped in cling wrap, taped at the edges, Noah’s hand resting just above the tape. You feel like both of you are hanging by a thin thread and you are quiet all the way. He rubs your thigh comfortingly. You squeeze his fingers back.

As soon as you close the door of the guest house behind you, you and Noah are in each other’s arms, clinging to each other and within seconds of that you start crying, chest heaving for air and then Noah is crying too, burying his face in your neck, his breath hot.

You take his hand after a while and guide him to the couch, where you lie down and he lays next to you on your good leg’s side, his head on your chest. You both cry for a while longer while running your fingers through his hair and rubbing his back. “I feel like I miss him so bad,” Noah says later his voice thick. You kiss his hair. “The connection I felt was insane.”

“He was very kind,” you say.

“I wanted to speak to him and tell him I’m okay,” he sounds defeated.

“We can make a plan,” you reassure him. After a while you whisper your suggestion, knowing it was not great. “We can write him a letter?”

Noah reaches over and pulls up your skirt to expose the tattoo and he lifts his head to look. He absent-mindedly starts picking at the tape around the edges.

“I need to let him know,” he says. “Can we write the letter now? How’s your leg?”

“My leg is fine,” you say. You get up to get your bag and dig out a notebook and a pen. “How do you want to do this? How honest are we going to be?”

Dear Nick I felt the need to clarify a few things. I had no idea how to say these things to you yesterday. I felt like saying it would be disrespectful to you in a way, because I had no idea if you would believe me. I did not want you to feel like I was playing with your emotions. I lied. I did not exchange texts with Noah. He appears to me. He says he has been appearing for years, but I have only been able to notice for a few months now. His ghost, or soul, or presence or essence, I don’t know. I know that is crazy. So does he. But it is true and I don’t know what to tell you about it. He cannot remember a lot of things; he is unclear on a lot of his past and I came to you to try and get some extra information. I felt in the moment that it would be insensitive to tell you this, because then you had to respond to me – and how is anyone supposed to respond?? Noah was with me yesterday during our session. He asked me to say the following in the letter: He cannot remember you as well as he wishes, but that he does remember that you were a person that made him feel seen and safe. He knows that he loved you dearly. He was also so adamant to let you know that he was okay. I am leaving town, I have a long drive home, but should you wish to contact me I will leave my contact details at the end. I will also have breakfast at the restaurant on the corner from your shop, should you wish to talk to me in person. Thank you for doing a great job on the tattoo. Thank you for being so important to Noah when he needed you. Kindest regards

16. Noah I carefully pealed the cling wrap and tape from her leg and then with great care put on an ointment that Nick had suggested. This morning when we woke up the skin was not red anymore and the tattoo looked great almost no scabbing. It was beautiful. I had a viscerally emotional response to it, seeing my friend’s work on her thigh.

“Does it hurt?” I ask.

“No, just sensitive,” she smiles at me.

We returned to the shop after writing the letter and left it under the wiper blade of his car, we decided that we really did not want to make him uncomfortable and force him into a situation he had no choice being in.

I was so nervous about breakfast, having no idea what to expect. I could tell she was too. She seemed calmer, the adrenaline of the pain from being tattooed out of her system. I think it contributed to her emotional response the previous day. But I still felt nauseous with the need to connect with Nick and it was truly strange.

When the car was packed and we double checked the bathroom for anything we might have left behind, we quietly drove to the restaurant. She picked a table at the back, a little secluded but sat in a spot where she could see the door, should he decide to show up.

She ordered coffee. I had my hand on her thigh. She had pulled the skirt up to expose the tattoo, to get relief from the material touching the sensitive skin. I traced the outline gently. I could tell she wanted to talk, she was crawling in her own skin again, fidgeting with a straw wrapper that was on the table. The coffee came and she slowly sipped at it.

“I’m not even hungry,” she whispers. But we need to kill time. So, she ordered something, just so we could stay a little longer.

“If he doesn’t show,” I say, sighing, “It’s okay. This was never a guaranteed success anyway.”

“Yeah,” she sounds defeated. I love her for helping me with this. I want to tell her but instead I kiss her cheek and she gives me a weak smile.

And then Nick walks through the door.

She stands immediately, waving him over.

He did not smile. He just walked over, his hands buried deep in his pockets and he looked everywhere except at her. He seemed like he had had no sleep. He slides into the seat opposite her still looking away.

“Hi,” she says.

“Hi,” he answers.

The waiter shows up and takes his order for orange juice.

“You need to explain that letter you left me,” he says looking her in the eye for the first time. “It was messing with me all night.”

She nods. “I know that what I said is crazy. I am aware. But it is true. I don’t have an explanation of how it is possible. I am not a psychic or any of that shit.”

“How do you communicate with him?” he asks.

“You believe me?”

“I did not say that.”

She grimaces, but steels herself before she begins. “At first it was small things, like sounds I heard in my house, things not where I left them, touches, whispers. For a very long time, I was convinced that it was my mind playing tricks on me. But eventually, he was more in control of himself and we could start talking and he could touch me. It got to the point where I had to accept it regardless of how I felt. He became a comforting presence to me.”

Nick was quiet for a moment absorbing what she said. “You said he couldn’t remember much?”

“No, he can’t. So, I starting having dreams, like he was giving them to me. I dreamt of you one night, giving him the Moon Lady tattoo and it was so real, the details the way you two were joking around. Then I started to take all the clues and I started putting the puzzle together. I am not explaining this very well.” She takes a few big gulps of her coffee.

His orange juice and her breakfast arrive, they both ignore their orders.

“You said he was there yesterday?” he asks.

She simply nods.

He leans forward, holding his head in one hand. “I could have sworn that I saw him yesterday. Almost from the corner of my eye, you know. Part of why I was so emotional talking about him to you. But I was sure it was just because our conversation was about him”

Her eyes went wide. “We didn’t know whether you would be able to see him or hear him.”

“He is okay?” Nick asks his voice thick.

“Yeah,” she says.

I feel my heart clench so much it hurts. I get up and stand behind him. I make eye contact with her before I carefully place my hand on his shoulder. He tensed immediately and I felt elated that he could feel it.

“Is he…?”

“Yes,” she says.

He brings his hand up and places it over mine. “Jesus,” he says giving a nervous laugh.

“It’s just Noah,” I say quietly. He heard me. He twists around, stands and grabs at me and we hug so tight.

“This is fucking weird,” he says.

“You need to be cool, people might look,” she says, but she is beaming.

We release the hug and he awkwardly looks around, because he couldn’t see me. “I miss you,” he says.

“I miss you,” I whisper back.

He sits back down and I sit next to him. She picks up a fork and starts eating her breakfast, the tension gone from her face.

“Can you remember the crash?” Nick whispers.

17. You You watched for about a solid hour while they spoke and caught up. The friendship that they shared was obvious to you, as they were so at ease with each other, despite the absurdity of the situation, despite the time apart, despite literal death. Noah’s eyes had a sparkle to them and it made you so happy to see. It was strange to see him interact with someone else, but it was so humanising. You said very little and were happy to just watch the two of them and absorb Noah’s laugh.

Eventually you had to leave though. Nick took you to his car where he had a box that he handed to you. “I packed this last night,” he said making eye contact with you. “I wasn’t sure I was going to give it you,” he looked down. “But I think you will both really learn a lot from it.”

You gave Nick a long, tight hug and thanked him many times. Noah and Nick hugged quickly. You promised to keep in touch.

“That was great,” Noah said his voice sad.

“That went a million times better than we ever hoped for,” you said.

“It did,” he said. “I can’t believe that he could actually feel me, that we could speak. I have never felt as real as I did when you could both hear me.” His voice grew soft at the end.

You reach over and gently take his hand, he intertwined his fingers with yours. “We will make a plan and see him again. I can absolutely see how the two of you were friends.”

“Are,” he corrects you. “We are friends.”

“Yeah,” you smile. You keep your eyes on the road, but you want to look into his eyes. You knew this was a lot to handle. “I am dying to know what’s in the box.”

“Me too,” he says.

“You open it, we have a long way to go still. Could kill some time.”

He drops a kiss to your hand before he reaches back to retrieve the shoe box. He settles it on his lap and stares at it for a while. You say nothing. He carefully lifts the lid of the box and slowly pushes it back. “Well fuck,” he breathes. “What?” you ask, sneaking peaks at the box.

“You drive,” he points through the windscreen towards the road. “I’ll give details.”

“Okay,” you snort.

“Right so, it seems like some of my stuff,” he says. “Hang on.” He digs through the things in the box.

“Noah,” you say in frustration after a while.

“Alright, alright, biggest item is this shirt.” He takes it out and shakes it out so you could look quickly. “It is a white shirt and it has a picture of…. It looks like Jesus and the devil playing basketball.” He laughs. “That is so cool.”

“Give me,” you take it and immediately smell it. Spicy and clean. “Mmmm, smells like you.” You keep the shirt on your lap.

“Then we have a beaded necklace with a big cross on, some bracelets, a plain gold ring.” He holds each piece and waits for you to look. He studies each item with care. Taking his time with each piece. “Here’s a copy of Into the Wild,” he flips through the pages of the book.

You were speechless. These few items meant the world. It was such a generous thing of Nick to do.

“Here is a flash drive also,” he says his voice sounding almost scared.

“The laptop is behind my seat.” You feel nervous.

Again, he rummages around in the back to take out the laptop. It takes a moment for him to boot it up and settle back. “What do you think this is?”

“Probably photos,” you say.

“Why am I scared of this?”

“Because whatever it is, it was your life,” you say gently. “Take your time.”

“Can I just say thank you to you first?” he says. “Thank you for doing this. Being there for me.”

You steal a glance at him. “Of course,” you say. “I feel honoured that I am allowed to witness this.”

“I love you,” he says his voice deep. “Do you know that?”

Your heart beats faster instantly, you feel it trying to climb up through your throat. Why would he say this while you are driving? You want to stare into his eyes and hold him and comfort him. You slow the car down and pull off next to the road. He seems confused by your actions. Once the car is fully stationary, you undo your seatbelt and practically climb over to him as much as you can and you wrap your arms around his neck. You press your face into his neck and breathe in his smell. “I love you,” you whisper. He wraps his arms around you and squeezes you so tight.

You start peppering his neck in small kisses heading towards his jaw. You feel him smile and your heart swells. Kisses along his chin, his cheeks, his nose, his eyebrows. Finally, he takes your face between his large hands, his hands resting over your ears and he kisses you firmly, you feel him swallow. Then his tongue is gently at your lips and you kiss him back, opening up to him. The kiss is tender and he smiles into it and it makes you feel out of breath. When you break apart, he rests his forehead against yours for a few moments.

“Thank you for pulling the car over before doing that,” he whispers against your cheek with a giggle.

You laugh. “My pleasure.”

“Also mine,” he laughs. “But seriously, did you hear me?”

You nod, eyes locked with his. “Did you hear me?”

He nods. “I’m not even real, though. How can you love me?”

“You are more real to me than anything,” you say.

18. Noah I insert the flash drive into the laptop. We were on the road again. She turns her head and smiles at me while I watch her drive. I see the sparkle in her eye, and the emotions she feels for me are written on her face and she shows it to me without hesitation. Never can I express how that feels – the words do not exist to explain the feeling shattering my heart and then lovingly putting each piece back in its place. My heart that does not exist either. It’s almost painful. And it’s the best feeling. I should have told her that I loved her with flowers and music and grand gestures. But I needed her to know so badly in that moment.

“Are you okay?” she asks, suddenly frowning.

“I just love you so much,” I say as explanation.

“Noah,” she smiles. “I love you, too. But is this too much for you? We can wait until we get home. We can wait as long as you want.”

I take a moment to think about it. “Honestly, I want you to be able to look with me. I don’t want you driving, I want you holding my hand when I do this.”

She reaches out her hand and I take it. “Okay,” she says. “We wait.”

I kiss her hand. “I can offer you other entertainment?”

“Oh yeah?”

“Eye spy?” I say, trying to think of other games. She laughs and I think that I live for that sound. But I do not. I exist for that sound.

“I have a better idea,” she giggles. “Go pick a playlist with older music and then we guess the song. We see how much you can remember.”

“Interesting, you want to compete with me,” I say, starting to search for playlists. “If it is a banger, we play it through and see who knows the most lyrics.”

She nods with a big smile. She has my shirt wrapped around her neck like a scarf, she keeps smelling it.

We play the game and she drives. We sing along to songs, laugh when we get it wrong. We argue about which songs qualify as bangers. I feed her dried apples and sips of water. I watch as she walks to the bathroom when we stop for a break and she adds a desperate running step because she couldn’t wait any longer. She comes back with marshmallows and a coffee.

We got home and we unloaded the car with heavy limbs. She kept stretching and rubbing her butt, saying that she sat it completely flat. I assured her it was just as delicious as it was before.

As I stood under the spray of water from the shower head and I felt the water pelt my skin, the water droplets running down my body, I wonder if I really feel it, or whether I was just so in the moment, so desperate that I made it real in my head. I wish there were a rule book and that I could understand. But then I shake myself and decide that I should stop wasting my time on wondering. Enjoy the warmth of the water while you can feel it, Noah. Let yourself feel cleansed by the soap, Noah. Just stop thinking so goddamn much.

When I enter the bedroom, she is under the covers, pillows arranged how she likes it, her eyes gently closed. She must be tired. Ambient light is all that covers the room in a soft, warm glow.

I lift the covers and settle behind her, inching my way closer and closer until I was right up against her body and I put my arm around her waist and I put my face in her neck. “Hey, baby.”

She hums in response, her head tilting to allow me more access to her neck. I kiss her neck repeatedly and slowly and go up her jaw.

“You still awake?” I ask eventually.

“I am,” she whispers. She sounds slightly out of breath. She squirms and, in the process, pushes her butt back against me and I gasp in response. The sensation sends shivers down my spine and makes me achingly aware of my groin.

I take a deep breath to calm myself down a little. My hand goes under the shirt she is wearing and I feel her bare skin, soft and smooth. “Is this okay?” I ask.

“Yes,” she breathes.

I run my fingers over her waist with light touches, slowly working my way higher until I can feel the flesh of her breasts and then I take my time touching, squeezing and holding them. I feel her hardened nipples against my palm and I drink in every heavy breath she takes and releases. Her hips ever so slightly pushing back against me consistently. “My god,” I moan in her ear. “These are so perfect.” I kiss and suck at her neck. Rational thought was leaving me rapidly. “Come here,” I pant and I make room for her to turn onto her back and then I immediately lean in and over her and kiss her. My hand is still palming her breast.

She kisses me back with so much passion that I am overwhelmed for a few seconds. She has her hands on my shoulders, rubbing along them softly, in contrast with the way her tongue is running along my lips with fervour. “Noah,” she says.

‘Yes, baby?”

“Please, Noah.”

“What do you want? Tell me?” I pull back and make eye contact with her, making sure I hear what she is about to say.

“I need you,” she sobs almost. I have to kiss her solidly before I pull back again.

“What do you need?”

“You, all of you,” she says, her leg hooking around mine and she runs her hands down my back, lower and lower. “I need to feel your skin against mine.”

“Alright,” I nod and I push her shirt up and she lifts her shoulders just enough that I get it off and I slowly drag the shirt down her arms and then she is bare and I cannot breathe. I immediately lower my mouth and kiss a line between her breasts before I kiss one while my hand is on the other. I lick around her nipple, my tongue leaving shiny wet spots in its wake. I glance up and her head is thrown back, her eyes closed. “Hey,” I whisper to her and she looks down. “Keep your eyes on me,” I say. I flatten my tongue and glide it across the hardened bud of her nipple and she moans, then I bite down very softly and she grabs my hair.

“Can I take off your underwear?” I say locking eyes with her. She bites her lip and nods. I move my body and move the blankets so I can reach her and I trail my fingers down her stomach and to her hips, and I slide my finger under the elastic and pull them down her hips. “Lift,” I say and I grip it and drag it down and she lifts her legs up so can remove them more easily. I look at her to make sure she was still okay with all of this, and I see she is nervous. But her eyes also look at me with dark hunger. “You still okay with this?”

“I am,” she squeaks.

“You sure?” I say, standing up on my knees on the bed. She nods. “I am going to ask you to open these legs for me, love. Are you okay with that?” I say this sternly. I need her to understand that my intentions were far from pure. She looks me in my eyes and I see her swallow heavily.

“I am so sure,” she whimpers.

Relief and arousal floods through me at the same time. “Thank fuck,” I breathe and then, “Open.” I grab one ankle and help to place it far away from the other and I maneuver both of us so there’s a bit more space for me and I settle down between her legs. I could already see her arousal glistening in the faint light. Salivating, I kiss her soft inner thighs and hook my one arm around her upper thigh, holding her in place. Then I take a finger, the same finger that has already been inside of her, and run it up and down spreading her arousal. She responds by squirming a little, she is biting her lip. I use my hand to spread her open slightly and then I press my tongue to her and I am overcome with her taste and emotions and the feeling of my cock becoming even harder. I lick up to her clit and then gently suck on it and she bucks her hips, and I feel victorious. “You taste so good,” I say. I drag my tongue down and it sinks into her wet mess at her opening and I drink her in. “So very wet,” I say as I suck on her again. Her hips start to move, it seems, of their own accord and she lets out little moans and she reaches down and grabs my hair. I am so into that. “Noah, oh my god,” she cries. I feel like a god between her legs.

“You want my fingers?” I ask.

“Yes.” No hesitation.

I slowly and carefully push two fingers into her and I hold my breath as I feel her insides clench around them. I pump them in and out of her slowly and curl my fingers and she is moaning, and just like the previous time she tries to close her legs but my body is in the way. “Baby, take my hand,” I reach my free hand up and she takes it and grips it. “Is it too much?” I ask.

“I don’t know,” she moans, “It feels so good.”

“Grip my hand tighter when it gets too much. I need you to hold on for me,” I look her in the eye. “I am going to keep going, okay?”

She nods and I pump my fingers again and then I lower my mouth and lick over her clit and when I feel her hips move and her grip on my hand tighten, I lick faster and harder and I keep going until she tells me that she is going to come and I keep going. Her hips lose rhythm and I look up at her and watch her utter beauty as she comes apart against my mouth. She brings her free hand up and clamps it over her mouth and I still hear her cries.

When she stills, I remove my fingers from her and climb up towards her so I can kiss her. She is breathing heavily, so am I. I kiss her tenderly, and she responds eagerly, her hands traveling all over my arms, shoulders and back. “I don’t know how this will work,” I say as I dare to look down at myself. “But can I please, please fuck you?” I bury my face in her neck, I have to concentrate to not just mindlessly rub against any part of her.

She pulls back from me and hold my face between her hands and she looks in my eyes for a moment, looking back and forth between my eyes. Love radiates from her and she pulls my face down to kiss my nose. “What do you need from me?” she whispers. “I need to be inside you, as soon as I can possibly manage,” I smile at her.

“What did you mean you don’t know how it works?” she says looking concerned.

“I just mean because I am a spirit. A ghost. I don’t know. But, honestly, the boner feels very, very real to me.”

“Yeah?” she asks and her hand is feeling me over the boxer briefs I have on. I have to squeeze my eyes shut and breathe through the feeling. “Feels real to me too. Hang on.” She lifts up slightly and pushes the briefs down a bit so I am free from the constraint. She wraps her hand around me slowly and pumps up and down a few times excruciatingly slow. She lets go and her index finger teasingly swipes up the bead of pre-come from my tip and she sucks it off of her finger and if I was not already dead….

“Christ!”

“Definitely real,” she giggles. “Fuck, I didn’t expect you to taste that good,” her face suddenly serious.

“Um, thank you, baby, but we do not have time for you to taste more,” I say quickly. “I am already about to explode and I haven’t even been near to being inside of you.”

She lifts up and kisses me again. She is sloppy this time, running her tongue along my bottom lip. “I don’t mind waiting,” she whispers.

“Lay back,” I tell her and she keeps looking at my face with such adoration. I rip the briefs off and then I take a hold of myself and run my cock up and down her a few times, across her clit spreading the wetness a bit, she throws her arms up above her head and sighs loudly. “You ready? I’ll go nice and slow.”

“I’m ready,” and she wraps her legs around my hips trying to encourage me closer.

I slowly and carefully push past the resistance at her entrance and keep going until I am completely buried inside the heat and clenching wetness. I literally could not breathe. I fall forward on top of her, my elbows trying to keep some of my weight off her. Her arms wrap around me immediately, her thighs gripping me and she peppers my face with kisses while I struggle to inhale. “You are fucking perfect,” I manage to get out. “Perfect.” She started squirming under me. “Please,” I choke out. “Wait a second. I need to calm down.”

She patiently rubs my shoulders while she licks at my neck. “I love you,” she whispers in my ear.

“I love you,” I sob into her skin.

She soothingly rubs my back and I hear her take a deep breath near my ear and then she exhales slowly and then deep breath in again and without a word, I join her breathing and then I start feeling like I have a bit of control back. So, I start moving just a little and work up to a steady rhythm and she opens her legs wider and clings to my arms. “You feel so good,” she gasps and I cannot believe that this is real, and I have to tell myself that I had better not start overthinking.

I lift myself up a bit so can have more leverage and I look down at her face contorted with pleasure, her body beneath me, the body that I have been looking at for years, never dreaming this would be possible, the body that I knew I was lucky to just be able to briefly touch in a moment of realness and here it was – gorgeous and writhing with me deeply inside of it. I fuck her harder and slightly faster and I hear the slap of skin on skin. She cries out and swears and moans. And this, I think, could not possible feel any better if I had been alive. Suddenly, she makes eye contact with me and she nods with very small movements and her hand sneaks down between us and she touches herself. “Fuck, baby that’s so hot,” I say to her. “I am not going to last much longer.” “Please,” she says and she tries to sit up and reaches up for me, so I lower myself down so I can kiss her and she kisses me. “I am coming,” she says. I grab her hand and we kind of lose control at the same time and I still most of my movements and she is twitching and gripping me so tight and it lasts so long. She bites my shoulder and then licks it to sooth the bite. I stay inside her and collapse and our breaths are hot and heavy.

“Baby, just let me stay inside a little longer,” I say because I am so sensitive. She jolts every few seconds as aftershocks go through her. “I love you,” I tell her again because I need her to know so badly. How much she means to me. “I love you.” “I love you so much,” she rubs my shoulders again and then starts running her fingers over my back lightly scratching. Goosebumps form over my whole body.

“I don’t need heaven, ever,” I whisper in her ear. “I have already found mine.”

19. You You wake up and you smell him, your face resting against his shoulder blade, your naked body curled up around his, his back to you, your arm around his waist and you are holding on to him like your life depended on it. When you open your eyes, you realise that your breasts are pressed up against Jesus’ face on his back and you cannot help but smile at that.

For a long time, you just admire his broad shoulders with a dusting of freckles where the tattoos do not cover his skin. You look at where he has slept his hair into standing at odd angles. You listen to him breathe, slow and even with a slight whistle when he inhales through his nose. When you move your feet a little, you feel the course hair on his legs. Every single part of him was so absurdly perfect. Except when your brain starts thinking, again, that he is dead. You press your hand to his chest, press it firmly. You do not feel a heartbeat.

When he stirs a while later, he turns to face you with a dopey smile on his face. His face is slightly swollen from sleep, his lips are puffy. His lips are a part of him that you have been greatly underappreciating. They are just so kissable. His eyes are squinted almost shut. Beautiful.

“Hey,” he croaks and moves closer so he can hold you, his long arms wrapping around you and his mouth resting against your forehead. “How are you doing?”

“Mmm, I feel great,” you say. “And you?”

“Oh, I am so very good and great and relaxed and wonderful,” he smiles against your face.

You laugh and kiss his chin. “You are so warm,” you say as you snuggle closer.

“And you smell amazing. You always do in the mornings.”

“You smell me in the mornings?”

“Absolutely, I do,” he says and drags his nose along your face until its buried in your hair.

You lay in comfortable silence and almost fall back asleep when he says, “That flash drive is haunting me.”

“Shall I go get it?” you ask. You have thought about it, but there have also been many other things on your mind. The way he kept calling you baby the previous evening being one of the things.

“I will, I’m just nervous still.”

“I have to go to the bathroom anyway. And I am ready to hold your hand. But if you want to wait, that is also fine, you know that.”

“Okay,” he says apprehensively. You search and find your shirt that was flung off you and pulled it over your head. “Leave the underwear,” he says pouting at you.

You make sure to pull the shirt down as low as it would go when you leave to the bathroom first, and then to go find that laptop where the flash drive is still inserted.

Noah is already sitting up and he has arranged the pillows for you both to be comfy. You climb in get under the covers and scoot closer and you place the laptop on both your laps. “You do it,” he says.

“Okay,” you run your finger along the mousepad and click to open the folder. Inside are photos, videos and audio files. You just know that whatever you are about to see is going to make you cry. He wraps his arm around your shoulder. “We can stop whenever you want. Where do you want to start?”

“Photos.”

You click and then you start clicking through the album and it was already a lot to handle. Many photos of Noah with friends, you only recognise Nick. Photos of Noah where he was so young. Photos with his skin in varying stages of being tattooed. His hair in different styles. There many photos of him making silly faces, many with him holding musical instruments, many with animals.

Noah was quiet for the most part, only commenting occasionally. “Is that a dermal piercing?”

“It looks like,” you smile.

The two of you can only guess at the other people. Noah tells you that some of the people look familiar, but he could not really place them.

So, then you go over to videos.

Videos were mostly of him hanging out with his friends, making jokes, being silly, drinking, making music. Many videos of Noah singing, some, where was very young, singing songs, clearly still finding his feet. But as Noah ages in the videos his talent becomes more and more pronounced. His voice improving, the songs improving. Videos of him playing guitar, playing keyboard, making music on the computer.

Noah would hide his face with some videos and with others, he would nod his head along with the sounds. You loved the insight this gave. The details neither of you would have ever known.

Until the video that started playing was a slideshow.

Noah gripped your hand slightly tighter and you squeezed back as images cycled with a Matchbox Twenty song playing. Tears were rolling down your face silently as you couldn’t help but imagine being at the funeral, knowing that you have lost this man. At the same time, you know that it happened.

Noah eventually stopped the video when he could not take it anymore. His head dropped down and you moved closer. He turned and buried his face in your neck and you held him as close as you could manage. A few sobs shook his body and then you couldn’t hold it back anymore either. You could guess what he was feeling. He didn’t have to say anything. The loss of everyone he knew, the life he knew and mostly himself. This life that he could not really remember.

He fell asleep after a while, you running your fingers through his hair slowly.

Later he softly kissed your neck and whispers, “How do you think we would have met?”

You think for a moment before you say, “Me getting a tattoo and you coming by to visit Nick. Or maybe at a concert, in the crowd.”

“By the looks of how rowdy my friends and I seemed to get, you could have been a neighbour that complained about the noise,” he adds.

“Maybe just at the grocery store, I would have been checking you out for sure.”

“Yeah?” he asks.

“Definitely.”

“We could have both been hiding from people in a social situation,” he grips your hand.

“Oh, I can see that,” you smile.

“We will never know, and that kills me,” he whispers.

You resist making a comment about that. “But we did meet. It might not have been the way it should have happened, but you found me regardless.”

“That is true,” he takes a few breaths. “I would have been staring at you too, by the way. In the grocery store.”

“Thanks,” you laugh.

20. Noah The thought plagues me non-stop. I don’t want to think it, I actively try not to, but just keeps coming up. For days and days when I am with her, when I am not, I keep wondering. I try to leave her alone a little bit, to see if it goes away. But it doesn’t.

“Noah,” she calls out into the living room. She is reading a book on the couch, but she looks up and keeps searching for me.

Maybe now is the time to bring it up. I walk closer and reach out my hand to her and she takes it. She moves over and I sit next to her.

“Are you okay?” she asks it very quietly. She knows something is eating me. Then new thoughts about how well she knows me crashes around in my head and I don’t know what I even want to say. “Something is bothering you,” she states. “Did I do something wrong?”

My heart breaks. “No,” I kiss the back of her hand. “But I have been thinking about something lately and I have to just tell you.”

She just nods. Her mouth is already turning down slightly, her eyes jumping back and forth between mine. I take both her hands in mine and turn towards her more. I can hear her take a breath and hold it. I look down at her knees.

“I am terrified that I am keeping you from living your life,” I say, still looking down. She says nothing. “What if you should be having a moment meeting a real live human being you should be dating? What if you spend too much time with me and you miss the life you should be living?”

She still keeps quiet, I can hear her breathing has picked up, but I cannot bring myself to look at her.

“I am sure you are my soulmate,” I carry on. “But maybe I am not yours. Maybe we never would have met, maybe I just died and you have another soulmate out there waiting for you.”

“What are you saying?” she finally speaks. Her voice is small.

“I don’t want to selfishly hold you back,” I say.

Tears splash down onto her arms and our hands and I look. Her bottom lip is trembling and a steady stream of tears are running down her face. “This sounds like you are saying you don’t want to be here with me anymore.”

“It’s not about what I want,” I try.

“It is, though,” she states.

“I want what is best for you.”

“And you don’t think that it’s you?”

“I am considering the possibility,” I whisper.

“Have I given you any indication that I need more than you?”

I keep quiet this time. I am hurting her and it was not my intention.

She cries audibly and I hear her breath catch and feel her shake. “Do you want to leave?” she asks simply.

“No,” I start. “Noah,” she interrupts me. “Don’t bullshit me right now. Tell me the hard truth. Do you want to leave?”

I take a moment to think how to phrase this. “With my whole heart, I want to be with you.”

“Okay,” she wipes her tears and takes a shaky breath. “Here are my thoughts,” and she touches my cheek until I make eye contact and then drops her hand. Her stare is intense and the tears are threatening. “You do not get to choose for me. It’s that simple. You make decisions about what you want and I make decisions about what I want.” She waits for it to sink into my head. “I need you to stop being noble, or whatever, and just understand that I can tell you to fuck off if I want to.”

I nod. “Alright.”

“If I am your soulmate, you are mine. I know the situation is not ideal. I know it’s weird and neither of us know how this works. But I love you. And fuck you for saying all that.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I know what you meant,” she says, “And I need you to trust me. Trust that I will be honest with you if I need something to change. Do you think I haven’t thought about these things? That maybe I am holding you back from heaven or some shit?”

“You are heaven,” I smile.

“Shut up, Noah,” she whispers. “All I know is we have this, whatever it is. I know I love you and I know that I choose you over all things living. It hurts me that you think I would be better off with someone else. That I need to go look for someone that isn’t you.”

“It kills me to think that,” I say quickly. “I hate the thought.”

“So, stop it,” she says taking my face in her hands. “Stop trying to fix everything. Stop thinking so much. This is immensely fucked up, but it is our fucked up and we get to make it of it what we choose.”

I smile at her. I place my hands over hers. She kisses me quickly. “You are too wise.”

“You need to stop letting these thoughts fester and then run away with you.”

“I realise I can overthink sometimes,” I sigh.

‘You think?” she wasn’t even smiling.

21. You You gasp awake, immediately trying to sit up, your breath hitching as pain ripped through your chest. It felt like you couldn’t inhale as the images of your dream is all you can see. Your limbs tangle in the blankets and the darkness has you confused.

“Shhhhh,” he says next you as he tries to get a hold of you, but you thrash against him and you have an overwhelming feeling that you needed to run, get away. Then you hear the sob tear through your throat. “Hey, it’s alright.”

He is persistent in his efforts to touch you, tether you to reality. Despite your violent movements, he gets a grip on you and he gently pulls you closer. Slowly, with your body fighting with all its might, you give in and allow him.

You begin to realise that it was a dream. A terrible dream, but it still hurt so bad. It still felt real. You felt the rain on your body, how the water drenched through your clothes, how it weighed down your hair that stuck to your neck and forehead. You could smell the fuel, the wind blowing, and the smell of tyres that had been desperately braked too hard. You saw the puddles of water and how the lights reflected in it. But most horrifically you saw him, your Noah, trapped in a car. His head was limply hanging against his chest, blood running down his brow. You walk closer and try to open the door of the car to get to him, but your hands to through the door like you were a ghost. You see inside that his arm was clearly broken and that his body was strangely close to the steering wheel where the airbag had deflated. His body looked wrong, broken. He was unsuccessfully trying to take a breath, with weak, jerky movements. You watched him die. Watched as the little bit of life drained out of him and he went still.

The horror and desperation were all that you could begin to process. You would give anything, absolutely anything, to turn back time, to replace your body with his. You wanted to scream to whoever was listening that they could have whatever they wanted, if you could save him. You wanted to climb into the car and fix him, you wanted to climb in and join him. Your entire being wanted to correct this mistake.

“Is it a bad dream?” his voice says next to you.

You cling to him with all your might, your sobs now so heavy that you could not talk or explain or breathe.

He rubs your back, holds you back and whispers in your ear that everything is alright, that he is there when you are ready to tell him. He soothingly hushes you.

You could not even feel relief that he was there, that it was him that was right there. Because you knew that what you dreamt was what happened. This beautiful soul that was comforting you, had really died right there, his chest crushed during the impact. But you weren’t there to help or even witness it. He had been all alone. Your heart was broken, because you would have endured all of that if it meant that he not been alone. You would have died right next to him if you could.

After what felt like hours, the sobs had stopped, but the tears still ran down your cheeks and into his shirt. Your face felt hot and swollen. “Do you want to know how you died?”

So, you tell him as gently as you could. He was quiet while he was stroking your hair, listening to the whole story without a word.

“I don’t remember any of this,” he says his voice small and very soft. “But,” he swallows. “I do remember feeling calm when I died. I have no memory of what happened to my body, but I remember that I didn’t feel alone, or scared. It felt like someone was there to help me through it.”

“Like God?” you ask.

He was quiet again for a very long time. “Maybe it was you.”

You look up at his face in confusion.

“How could you have known what happened if I can’t even remember it now? Maybe your soul was there with me. Looking after me and helping me die. Maybe our souls have been entwined for a lot longer than we thought.”

You did not know what to make of what he said. But you liked the idea that even if you couldn’t save him, you were there for him in a way.

“I wish I could have saved you,” you croak.

“You did, love.”

[End]

Bonus Chapter (kind of)

[amarylliasky]

Number 6 is kind of a random post!

Random things that I frequently forget exist and are canon in Tcf/lcf

1. Choi Han canonically has three ancient powers.

2. The exact words Eruhaben used to describe Cale’s face are “a bit fancy.” What’s even better is, from that phrase alone, Alberu is immediately able to deduce that it is Cale he is talking about.

3. Rasheel beat the crap out of Dorph and the lion was never heard from again(not in any significance or that I remember anyway. It’s been a hot minute since I read the end of part 1).

4. Ron and Beacrox never had their housewarming party. Cale and Raon even said they would bring gifts.

5. Alberu has other half siblings aside from Robbit and the third prince(who still doesn’t have a name).

6. Lee Chul Min of Earth 1 became a guild leader.

7. Hubesha exists. Add onto that, Priest Gersey exists(I know, I know, they are major antagonists in the later parts of part 1, but it’s been a while ok?)

8. Cale left a priest robe for Clopeh to find, along with a note. Clopeh probably still has it. I’d wager that’s one of the first items on display in the future museum he establishes.

9. (Mentions part 2!!!!!!———>) So far the only person to hide in the ceiling without being uncovered(not undiscovered tho) was that random tail Imperial Prince Adin put on Cale when the Roan envoy arrived at the Empire. This includes xxxx xxxx xxx and Cale himself.

10. Hannah could technically be the youngest swordmaster. Choi Han is over 100 years old and Bud is in his mid thirties. (Of course, that also depends on how skilled Clopeh was at her age too).

11. Cale smacks Beacrox on the head. He then proceeds to dump water on him. He then pats Beacrox’s head with a ‘disgustingly gentle expression.’ Lol.

12. Cale plots his own demise at one point(I could never forget this gem, but every once in a while I just get so surprised that it’s canon and not some sort of crack fic. Not to mention Alberu feeling like he lost to WS because Cale said his cookies were better).

13. Alberu brews tea as a hobby.

14. During the test where Cale is invisible, when they meet Eruhaben but he’s been tricked by the WS/SG, Eruhaben and Raon are about to fight. Meanwhile Cale is, of all places, curled up in a ball between them. Like, why would you just sit there?! Ik he can’t be seen or touched, but still! Also Eruhaben called him a rat. :(

15. On and Cale go on a father-daughter undercover mission disguised as academy students. (I would actually really like to read a fic where they go undercover at an academy in their world, not a crossover or au.

16. Taerang came from Earth 3, right? So hypothetically, since there is a Kim Rok Soo on Earth 1 and 2, does that mean there’s also one on Earth 3? Just something I like to think about. Also, it’s supposedly a mashup of Earth and Cale’s current world, right? So hypothetically speaking, does that mean that both Kim Rok Soo and all of the characters from The Birth of a Hero could possibly exist in one world? I just think that’s cool. I’d like to see that.

17. Cale was gifted an evil sword/dagger from the former Emperor of Mogoru. According to Raon, it has an ‘evil aura.’ Though he does give it back, and I genuinely can’t remember it being of any significance since then.

18. They roleplay going on a walk/ having a picnic in front of the secret entrance to the basement of the Alchemist Bell Tower.

19. Canonically, members of the Penguin tribe apparently waddle around in black outfits and make the best butlers, as stated by Whitiria. Because if that doesn’t scream fantasy cliche I don’t know what does.

20. Cale has two different fears at the beginning and during the war with WS. One is to be the last one alive at the end of the battles, similar to his life as Kim Rok Soo; the other is for his life as Cale Henituse to be just a dream. Both are extremely sad and so like him. It’s not really something I forgot, but it’s also something I think the fandom just doesn’t talk about enough. Like, we all know(and love) to talk about the test on Wind Island, but what about the illusion Elisneh traps him in? To imagine himself waking up as Kim Rok Soo the day after; like all that he experienced, his entire family he built, was all just a dream? That’s heart wrenching. That for me is genuinely one of the most impactful moments in the novel.

Now spoilers for part 2 for those who don’t know what I was talking about on number 9.

///////////////

Cale and Choi Han were discovered in the ceiling by the WS when they sneak into the Dubori territory Capital. Funnily enough though, the only reason Choi Jung Soo was discovered was because he was so shocked by Cale coughing up blood that he was discovered by the Carnage Demon and then they fell through the ceiling.

///

Edit: I edited some of these cuz they’re not actually accurate. In case anyone’s wondering.

[azulasluvr]

Ok so let’s break down my thoughts on this scene

First of all, I love Ursa. (I mean look at my bio) If you feel you may be angered by my opinions, feel free to scroll on by and have a lovely day.

In the first panel we see Azula with a sort of shocked expression as her mother has caught her firebending for the first time. In the next panel her expression shifts to sadness. Ursa’s expression across the next two panels seem to mimic this. Yet they have key differences. Azula looks upset to be caught, perhaps worried that her mother may be mad at or disappointed in her. But before I discuss Ursa’s panels, I want to jump to the next panel real quick. We see Ozai elated to see that Azula is a firebender. For a moment one could think that this is a rare good parenting moment for him. But a quick reminder of details of The Search changes everything. It is revealed in the comic that Ozai had an arranged marriage with Ursa due to her relation to Avatar Roku. Firelord Sozin thought that a strong and powerful bloodline could be created from the two. As Ozai states, “She’s a prodigy to be bending at such a young age!” we are reminded of this. Azula and Zuko were born to be weapons. That being said I’m moving back to the panels of Ursa. Her eyes are incredibly expressive to me. It’s exactly as Azula says a couple pages later, she was scared for her not of her. Ursa was scared for what was going to happen to Azula. Scared that she couldn’t save her. The direct contrast of Ursa’s sorrow and Ozai’s joy makes a great panel. It’s almost like light and dark. I think it’s neat that in this scenario of light and dark you would think that joy is light and sorrow is dark, but given their characters it’s quite the opposite.

I think people often neglect the fact that Azula and Zuko weren’t the only ones manipulated by Ozai. Ursa was too. And this panel is great example. That look on his face and the italics used in “proud” lead me to read this in a very condescending and manipulative tone. The fact that he’s asking Ursa to tell her daughter she’s proud of her when he can’t even say it himself (he never said he proud of her in the previous panel just that her ability was amazing) bothers me deeply. As I mentioned earlier Ursa’s eyes are incredibly expressive to me. Just looking into her eyes in this panel makes me want to start sobbing. That look of knowing what was going to happen to Azula and not knowing if she could save her. Wishing there was something she do. And poor innocent Azula not knowing what’s coming for her and just wanting her mother’s love and admiration. I know the final panel is pretty controversial in the fandom. I don’t think it’s one of Ursa’s best moments, but I don’t think she said this to be hateful in any way. I think it was just her safest was of speaking her mind in that moment. Because deep down I truly believe that she cared deeply for Azula. I mean that’s her baby. But her situation is so incredibly complicated. She couldn’t say no to Ozai but she didn’t want her children to grow up as weapons, even though she knew there was really nothing she could do to stop it.

Anyway sorry this took me so long to post and idk if any of this is even good or makes sense but yeah. Brain.exe stopped functioning mid writing this but I will always defend Ursa and Azula and hate on Ozai.

[im14andivebeen14foramonth]

do you mayhaps have any two-bit hcs?? :D (also hi i hope you’ve had a good day!!! ^^)

omg there's no way I forgot this was in my ask box for this long 😭😭 that's my bad bro (and I hope you've had a good day too :DD)

but yes ofc!! two-bit mathews you are so underrated and I love you with my whole heart mwuah

- bro sunburns SO easily, the second summer hits his face is red (darry tries to get him to put sunblock on all the time but two-bit refuses because he likes being a little shit and frustrate darry)

- two-bit definitely ate dirt growing up multiple times and now he has the immune system of a god. cold and flu season comes around and wipes out the rest of the gang and two-bits the only one left standing. he likes to play nurse for the gang tho and make them soup and shit (but ofc it's two-bit so trust that he's going to being annoying the gang the whole time)

- never refuses a tea party with his little sister. you WILL catch this man with a tiara on and cramped onto a little kids plastic chair

- practically pony and johnnys resident chauffer, he likes taking them out to get food after school

- speaking of school, two-bit is having a BLAST. he's standing outside ponys classroom door making faces and trying to get pony to laugh, and sometimes he tries to get pony sent out into the hall or smthn cuz hes bored and wants someone to hang out with

- and when him and dally (let's pretend dally cares enough to go to school) are together it is a NIGHTMARE. theyre definitely sitting in the back of the class fucking around the whole time, theyre picking each other for every single project and then two-bit tries to improv it when it's time to present bc they didn't actually do it, he's lurking outside of the school outside dallys classroom window and making him laugh and hiding in the bushes whenever the teacher looks over

- he's also a master of sneaking out of school, and he does try to sneak all of his friends out the (first story) windows of their classes

- absolutely raiding the school vending machine, he's getting a shit ton of snacks and then pushing and tipping the machine until more come out. if you're behind him in line at a vending machine just walk away bc there will not be a crumb left when he's done

- he's also the kid having an entire feast in the back of class. he got sent to the principal one time for pulling out a rotisserie chicken and going ham on it mid lesson

- his hair is fluffyyyy under all that grease

- the type to show up to his partners house in the middle of the night and throw pebbles at their window until they open it (for marbit, marcia thinks it's cute. for darbit, darrys ready to rip two-bits head off because "the door is literally always unlocked two-bit and my room is on the first floor anyway, I stg if you break my goddamn window-")

- he makes absolutely diabolic food combinations

- "hey do you guys dare me to do *insert something really fucking stupid* "no, two-bit. please do not do that." "welp since you dared me I guess I gotta!"

- he's silly and an obnoxious joker but he can actually be super mature, and he will enter responsible big brother mode in a heart beat (like how he offered to stay with pony the day after the fire and how he checked ponys forehead when he looked sick)

- he loves the arcade and he's a god at ski ball, though it doesn't matter because he's stealing ever single ticket he sees anyway

- on a similar note BEWARE of this man if you do bumper carts with him. he's on a mission to wreck everyone's shit and the gang all start trying to get the hell out of there when they hear his evil laugh getting closer and closer

- absolutely amazing at character voice impressions, specifically mickey, donald and goofy. he always does impressions to try and cheer up sad pony

-very enthusiastic nacho enjoyer

[aurorawest]

Summer Reading Update (part 1)

Teach the Torches to Burn by Caleb Roehrig - 4.75/5 stars

This was a really well done retelling of Romeo and Juliet. I read another book from the Remixed Classics series, Dear Henry, and while that one was also good, it felt like it adhered too slavishly to The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde, so sometimes things seemed to be happening only because they happened in the original. And I haven't actually read the original book, it was just...easy to tell. Teach the Torches to Burn never felt like that, and I loved how it fleshed out so many of the characters from the play.

You Should Be So Lucky by Cat Sebastian - 5/5 stars

I feel like tumblr sings this one's praises enough that I don't really have to, but—everyone should read this. Everyone should read all of Cat Sebastian's books. I think I liked this one better than We Could Be So Good, but that could just be because I've found myself becoming more and more of a sucker for sports romances.

Unhallowed by Jordan L Hawk - 4.75/5 stars

Sad to say goodbye to the Whyborne and Griffin series, but I already love this spinoff!

Soul of Ash by HL Moore - 3.75/5 stars

Crow's Fate by Kim Fielding - 3.75/5 stars

The Sleeping Soldier by Aster Glenn Gray - 5/5 stars

I sound like a broken record re: Aster Glenn Gray, but please read her books. If you like Cat Sebastian's mid-century romances (like You Should Be So Lucky!) you like Aster Glenn Gray. This one is ostensibly a Sleeping Beauty retelling, but one where the sleeper actually sleeps for 100 years. In this case, it's a Union soldier who is put in an enchanted sleep in 1865 and wakes up in 1965 and oh my god, it's so good. It examines racism, it examines toxic masculinity, it examines homophobia, and how same-sex platonic affection became taboo. I'm pretty sure this woman has never written a bad book, but this may be her best.

Alec by Kaje Harper - 3.75/5 stars

Artemis by Andy Weir - 3.75/5 stars

Oak King Holly King by Sebastian Nothwell - 4.75/5 stars

I loved this one! There are so many books about Faerie and they can be pretty hit or miss for me, but this one struck just the right balance of otherworldly, inhuman creatures and characters I could root for. Shrike and Wren were lovely.

Imperfect Illusions by Vanora Lawless - DNF at pg 56

Orchestrated Love by AJ Buchanan - DNF at pg 1

Razorblade Tears by SA Cosby - 4.25/5 stars

The Starless Sea by Erin Morgenstern - 5/5 stars (reread)

The Only Light Left Burning by Erik J Brown - 5/5 stars

Excellent sequel about what happens after you make it to the last bastion of civilization after the apocalypse.

Unwieldy Creatures by Addie Tsai - DNF at pg 12

A Nobleman's Guide to Seducing a Scoundrel by KJ Charles - 5/5 stars

Oh man. This may have displaced the Will Darling Adventures as my favorite KJ Charles book. Wonderful MCs, A+ side character arcs, and villains you really loved to hate. I rambled on a lot about this book to my wife after I finished it.

Stars in Your Eyes by Kacen Callender - DNF at pg 156

His Lordship's Secret by Samantha SoRelle - 3.75/5 stars

Us, Et Cetera by Kit Vincent - 5/5 stars

Cinderella retelling with androids but Christ on a bike was this a painful read. Really, really well done. Highly recommended.

Charming Young Man by Eliot Schrefer - 5/5 stars

My 5 star rating diverges pretty sharply from the average Storygraph rating for this book, and I'm not sure why, other than maybe people thinks it's PrObLeMaTic. It was definitely not a super happy book, though it ends on a good note (that's a pun btw!). I thought it was a great book about a period that isn't often written about (1890s Paris) with a fascinating protagonist (who was a real person).

Dark Heir by CS Pacat - 5/5 stars

It's a CS Pacat book; it's the sequel to Dark Rise; obvs I loved it. I don't understand why this series is shelved under YA except that Pacat's publisher thinks more people will buy them. This series is the gay Lord of the Rings you always wanted and somehow is an even slower burn than Captive Prince.

Of Knights and Books and Falling in Love by Rita A Rubin - DNF at pg 50

Cover Story by Valerie Gomez - DNF at pg 176

Letters to Half Moon Street by Sarah Wallace - 4/5 stars

[dazzling-raven]

Thoughts and rambles on episode eight! Spoilers below the cut ^^

Alright. Now that I've had a moment to process how everything went down, I have some thoughts. I'm going to try not to write a 5 paragraph essay on the thing, but the one major thing I'd like to say is that the episode is visually phenomenal. Absolutely stunning. Blew my mind. However, it did feel a tad bit rushed.

Now obviously this is the episode where everything hits the fan and nobody really got to sit down and have a ten minute therapy session, but I'm kinda disappointed in how the character arcs were wrapped up. It kinda feels like this episode was a giant boss fight and then nothing else really. Happened. You know? Like the big bad is defeated and we're all happy now. Wich they absolutely deserve after going through that hellstorm, but a little elaboration would have been nice.

That aside though, there were lots of moments in the episode that I loved. Like the bit where N and Uzi were arguing in the spaceship and N said something along the lines of 'I'm so mad at you right now' but then they immediately hug each other and put the argument away for a moment when they weren't being chaced by giant space tentacles. I think this in itself is massive character growth for him, and communicating is key for a good relationship. Wich speaking of.

Nuzi is cannon! We got a confession. Loved that moment. I guess better late than never, right? And their dorky litte handshake mid boss fight? They both have a total of four braincells and they take the other two from their partner whenever one of them is in danger. I love it. Need more of that dynamic.

And V. I feel for V so much in this episode. The scene in the tunnel broke my heart. You cannot tell me that she dosen't at least feel a fondness for their time at the mannor because she was so sad but so relieved when she found out that he was ok. I want more of them so bad. Also I near shrieked with joy when she came in riding the sentinel like a total pro, that's probably one of my favorite little side bits.

Also I really feel for all of you Jessa shippers. I hoped on the Jessa train not too long ago myself, and I was really disappointed with the way they handled J. But at the same time, I think it's hilarious that she canonically died 3 times. Like. How did you even manage that. Even so, her character had a purpose, and I guess she served that purpose.

Also kind of disappointed that Thad, kahn and Lizzy were kind of just. There. But I did love the fact rhat lizzy and V's sentinel had beef from minute one. Girl cannot catch a break.

In all, I thought this episode was amazing. It definitely has it's flaws, but it's a strong episode and one of my favorites. It made me laugh, it tugged on my heartstrings, and it was a phenomenal end to a phenomenal show. So Liam, thank you for telling your story and bringing people together in only the way you knew how.

[iouinotes]

You're my dream | Alex Walter

pairing: Alex Walter x female!reader

genre: fluff word count: 3,4k

show: My life with the Walter boys

summary: Alex thinks you prefer Cole over him. You show him that he is the most important person in your life.

a/n: @bbr0wni3 and I had the same idea for a story, so I hope you like the final result :) and sorry for gatekeeping sooo long

Alex had been quiet for the entire walk home. It felt like the school day had passed painfully slow, without his sympathy, his jokes, or his comments in math class. I've tried to find out the reason for his silence, but each time I asked about it, he changed the topic and I was left clueless.

Of course, I thought about what could bother him so much, but none of my suggestions were that convincing. Maybe it was his bad history essay? Or did he have had another fight with Cole? Was it about Paige? She had become his black shadow over the last year and if I'm being honest, I never really liked her. I mean, as Alex's best friend, I have little say in his dating life, even though my opinion is important to him.

Because when Alex falls in love, no one can stop him. It happens quickly and is usually associated with a lot of pain afterwards.

But if I remember things correct, Alex has been acting a bit strange for a while now. I mean, I tried to get to the bottom of his sudden mood-changes, but understanding Alex's mind has never been an easy task.

Good thing for me, I've never liked things too easy. Then again, bad thing for me, that I'm in love with my best friend.

I didn´t notice it at first and I can't pinpoint the exact moment, when my feelings for him meant more than just friendship.

Alex has always been a special person in my life, someone I could open my heart to and who would never hurt me. Apparently, I opened the doors to my heart a little too wide for him, because on one warm spring day, when I couldn't stop looking at his smiling face, my feelings for him became very clear to me. I literally hung on every word he said and I didn't even know at that point, that you could see a light in his eyes, when he talked about something he liked, that shone as beautiful as the rays of the sun.

And then, without even paying attention to what he was saying anymore (I think it was something about a new video game, he was playing), I quickly wrote down a few phrases in my notebook. that came to my mind. Unfortunately, I probably acted a little bit too hectic, because he stopped talking mid-sentence, irritated but curious.

"What are you doing?" I heard him ask, a smile on his lips. He leaned towards me and before I could hide it, he read the words out loud.

"Looking at you is like having the sun right in front of me.

I´m blinded by your beauty."

I thought my heart would give out at that moment, but he just grinned at me with twinkling eyes and asked who these two poetic sentences were addressed to. I said back then that it was about a character from a movie, because he wouldn't have bought anything else. After all, he had known me for so long that he knew about every crush I ever had, so choosing a boy from school would have been out of question.

But he never found out that my inspiration was actually him.

However, when I clear my thoughts and turn to look at him now, a visible frown is attached all over his beautiful features. I decide to put my arm around his arm, the typical pose for a married couple, so he isn´t able to get away from me and I can convince him to hang out. With the aim that I can lighten up his sadness.

Unfortunately now, much to my discomfort, he's looking at me with raised eyebrows, which is why I finally bring up the sensitive topic.

"So, something is clearly bothering you and I will take it as my duty to change your miserable mood. Don´t protest, because we are going to my place and I will take care of you with lots of ice cream. How does that sound?" I see a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, he signs but then quietly nods. And when we arrive at my house, luckily my parents are still at work, I turn the key and let us in. He takes off his jacket, my eyes secretly wander to him and I notice, while my heart is pounding, that he wears my favorite sweater. A white one with a blue hood.

He fixes his hair, that always need to look perfect and I smile lightly, because I love every time that I can get on his nerves, when I ruffle through it. He throws himself on the sofa and while I turn on the heater and go into the kitchen to get the ice cream, he has already made himself comfortable with a blanket. When I see him hugging a pillow, still scowl on his face, I sit myself right next to him. But as he keeps his attention at the black TV, I notice his exhausted figure and decide to speak up.

"Alex, come on. Talk to me, something is obviously going on. I don´t like it, when you are sad. Plus, I really miss your smile." My hand rests on his shoulder, lightly stroking the hair on the back of his neck, because I know he has a weakness for physical touch. When I see him struggling to keep up his act, I approach him and whisper "you can tell me anything, you know that right? I would never judge you."

Again, he signs loudly, but finally looks at me. His eyes are searching for mine and now that his attention is focused completely on me, I suddenly feel uneasy.

"D-did I do something?" My nerves are getting thinner by the second. I hate to upset him. Probably because I love seeing him happy so much.

"No, it´s-" his hand brushes over his face. "It is complicated." I'm still trying to understand, why he can't tell me what's going on.

"You didn´t do something illegal, didn´t you? I mean, I would still be your best friend, but I would have to make up a story, why I'm visiting you in prison-" at that, he quietly laughs and shakes his head.

"It´s legal, even though I feel like it shouldnt be." Now I'm curious and scared at the same time.

"Please, tell me. I´m dying to know." I try to put on my best puppy dog look, even though it probably looks pretty stupid.

A few seconds later, he slowly raises his hand and places it on my cheek, gently stroking my skin, while still holding the eye contact. His gesture leaves me speechless. I mean we cuddled every now and then during a movie or I've fallen asleep on him. I've also kissed him on the cheek once while doing a chore, but otherwise we always kept a decent distance. The fact that he's coming so close to me now is catching me off guard.

"You...you would tell me if you like someone, right?" His question surprises me.

"Yeah, of course. You now, that I can barely keep something from you. You always know what I get you for your birthday, because I can´t resist, when you keep asking me about it." His hand slowly sneaks into mine. My eyes wander to our laps. I feel myself getting more and more confused.

"Alex, what´s going on? I don´t hide anything from? Do you think otherwise?" I feel a pang in my heart as I look into his eyes.

"I heard a rumor" he begins to say and I draw my eyebrows together at his words. He never considers any rumors, because most of the time they are false anyway.

"And?" I want him to continue.

"It was about you and-" hopefully not about the fact that I'm in love with you, just let it stay my secret.

"-Cole." What?

"What?" He signs, looking away from me.

"Someone said, he heard you talking about how in love you were with him or something. That you prefer him over me." He averts his eyes so he's no longer looking at me. I almost laugh at this ridiculous statement.

"Do you really believe that? That I would prefer Cole over you? My funny and kind, but sometimes very very stupid best friend? You really think, I hang out with you in every free second, that I have, because I like your brother? Who is by the way, not even close on my list of people I would visit in prison." I'm glad he didn't do anything illegal and it's just about a stupid rumor. But now, I still have to convince him, that it is in fact just a rumor.

He is quiet for a moment, but when he speaks up, I almost laugh at his question.

"Where am I on your list?" His eyes look into mine and now I'm the one taking his hands.

"Alex" I start to speak in a gentle voice "you will always be my number one, you hear me? I don´t think, I like another person in this world or in this universe as much as I like you. Sometimes, it feels like you are literally the reason, that the earth revolves. Because for me, my world revolves around you. I enjoy every second, I spent with you and I would never, ever trade this for even a minute with Cole. Okay? Never. I promise."

I finally see his shoulders relax and a genuine smile that spreads across his face. When I nudge him on the shoulder, he laughs.

"You, big dummy. I thought, you would tell me, you robbed a bank or something."

"Oh, I would never dare. You would kick my ass." We smile at each other in silence.

But I still want to know, how it comes, that he would believe something so ridiculous.

"So, why did you think, I would prefer Cole over you?" It hurts a little to think, that he believes he´s not that important for me.

"Because" he begins to say, gesturing with his hands "the Cole effect exits and all that. Every girl falls for his charm or whatever. I can´t compete with him." Something I will never understand. How he always makes himself look bad in comparison to his older brother.

"Well, for the matter, you affect me with your smart and kind soul. And I think my heart could bear it a lot better, if you would not look like a dream come true."

He's silent for a moment and I begin to panic, when he suddenly looks at me with a nervous expression.

"Can I- I mean, I think I´m going to say something really concerning. And it will affect our friendship, like a lot. So, just let me say it." Since that means, that he wants to talk about something important, I stay quiet. Nevertheless, still holding his hand for support.

He exhales heavily, but then looks directly at me. "I know you for as long as I can remember, you were by my site since the second I walked on this earth. You know, quite literally, because we were in the same kindergarden group. You were my first friend and I remember so many moments, that will forever exist in my memory. And...in my heart. Because you seem to have a say in what my heart wants and it feels like it wants you, for some time now. I know you are my best friend, but I cant imagine someone else being so connected in my life. In everything I do, everything I am. You support my decisions, even if you don´t like them. When you force me to watch rom-coms with you and the characters talk about finding their soulmate, doing all these cheesy things, I realize I want that too. With you. Since watching the Notebook three weeks ago, I wake up every day and wish that you would lay next to me. So, I could-"

He leans forward and with a shy smile, that makes my heart burst with happiness, he kisses me. It´s a feeling, I never want to miss again.

"-kiss you. It would be the first thing I would do in the morning."

He tucks a strand of hair behind my ears.

"I would-" his hands move to my waist and pull me onto his lap. "-make you sit right here and whisper all the things I adore about you. Like-" he kisses my forehead, I feel his lips across my face. I close my eyes and enjoy being so close to him. He leans further towards me, his lips brush over my neck and leaves a kiss there.

He mutters a few words, that I -much to my dislike- can´t understand. But I´m too caught up in his embrace to ask about it.

But then, he seems to get more confident and when he speaks again, I almost tear up.

"I love you. As my best friend, my heart, my love, my person. If you let me. I'll be yours, if you want to be mine."

I kiss him again, letting the tears flow, because I don´t know what else I could do to show my happiness. When we break apart, I look at him. A lovesick feeling inside my chest.

We're holding each other in our arms, but just a few seconds pass until his curiosity wins and he turns to me.

"That quote, that you wrote a few weeks ago, about someone being like the sun for you. Who was it about? Because you did not, just for once, talked about a fictional character. I would remember." Okay, I didn't expect that.

His beautiful eyes continue to look at me, encouraging me to come out with the truth. I nervously smile, tracing the lines in his hand.

"As you said, you ever looked at someone and just thought: This is my person? Someone, you want to have in your life, no matter, if it´s just a friend, a boyfriend or maybe even a best friend." I look at him, searching in his eyes, that he knows how I feel. Then I continue.

"Someone who makes you smile just by existing. Or someone who has a shitty humor, but he delivers his jokes so perfect, it makes you laugh anyway. Someone, who holds my heart and my mind in his hands, even if he doesnt know it."

"What´s he like?" His eyes are curious, but to my surprise, he seems irritated by the thought, that I could be in love with someone. Someone, who isnt him. You big, big, idiot.

"He's kind, has a fascination for fantasy books and for riding horses, playing baseball or fighting creatures in video games. He doesn't know, why I have a soft spot for sweet, gentle and caring characters, even though he is my inspiration for writing them."

His lips part in surprise.

"He's my everything. Sometimes it makes me sad, because I can´t love someone else, the same way. But then, I look at him and I feel like, why do I even want to love someone else, when he exits." I pause for a moment.

"When you exist."

My words make him speechless, but he continues to hold me close to his heart.

"For a long time, I didnt even know I had feelings for you too, Alex. You were always like a second home for me.

You are someone I trust the most and who I rely on in any kind of situation. You make me laugh and you´re always there for me. At first, I didnt notice my change of feelings. Because you kept being my safe place, but as I grew up, I realized that nothing mattered the way, you matter to me.

Sometimes, when I look at you, it feels like I have met my other soul or that maybe, we share the same. Nothing in this world is as important to me than you or your feelings. Maybe it wasnt clear enough for you to see, but I am in love with you.

Your existence in this world is so special and like nothing else, I could ever dream of. Because you are my dream, the most-dearest one."

[paintedscales]

FFXIV Write 2024 :: Day Two

Prompt: Horizon Characters: Nomin tal Kheeriin, Dorgene Haragin Word Count: 729 Warnings: Mentions of death

Master List

The fried bread that Nomin had was a day old and a combination of being slightly crispy and stale around the edges while unsatisfyingly floppy in the middle. It certainly did not serve as the best breakfast one could ask for, but she supposed that this was something she was simply going to have to get used to in order to sail the seas tolerably. And that was going to have to be a priority if this was going to be her life for the time being.

“Just look at that endless horizon…!” Drogene jogged across the deck of the ship past Nomin, a smile growing on her face. Leaning at the ship’s railing in a near-anxiety-inducing way, feet lifting off the ground. She was clearly enjoying herself. “I never get tired of looking at it during days like this.”

Nomin turned her gaze out upon the open sea. The Haragin had been sailing for a while, and land had disappeared from view since late the day prior. Bright blue skies met the azure seas in a setting that Nomin never really imagined being surrounded by. It was a combination of being both bleak and beautiful at the same time, and it was that slight obstacle that prevented Nomin from seeing what Dorgene saw.

Dorgene’s feet returned to the ship’s deck, and she looked over at Nomin. “What do you think? This is your first true experience out at sea, isn’t it?”

Nomin stopped mid-chew on her piece of bread and glanced from Dorgene back out toward the horizon. Swallowing, she hummed in thought. “I…don’t really know? It doesn’t seem too exciting to me. But…maybe you can tell me why you like it?”

At that moment, Dorgene’s brow went up as she chuckled lightly. “Fair skies, fair seas…it’s a beautiful day. Though, living on the land as long as you have, you have probably taken it for granted in a way. For if the skies are angry and tumultuous, then so too becomes the sea. To appreciate the beauty of the calm horizon is to appreciate the air we breathe and the life we still live.”

‘The life we still live…’ Nomin thought to herself, her brow forming a small furrow as she considered Dorgene’s perspective. “... How…dangerous is it to sail?”

Dorgene’s expression fell, a sad smile lingering on her lips as she folded her arms over the ship’s railing. She stared down into the deep blue waters. “You know how we have three ships?”

“I do.”

“It used to be a small fleet… When I was but a toddler, maybe three or four summers of age, I remember there being much more. Eight. My parents told me there used to be even more,” Dorgene began, recalling her past and the stories she had been told over time. “Only when I was about ten and three summers was I allowed to start sailing with the rest of the tribe. That was my first real taste of the sea… I loved it from the moment we took off from the bay.”

A sigh left Dorgene as she looked back up at the distant horizon.

“The first terrible storm I ever experienced was when I was ten and five summers -- two years later. The khan urged me to stay safe in the ship’s cabin, to hold onto something sturdy when I did.” Dorgene’s tail had even stayed slack behind her as she recounted her tale. “When the storm finally passed, we lost two of our ships… At least thirty or forty of our tribespeople. All because of a storm -- because of how angrily the seas and the skies danced with one another that they cared not who they punished.”

To think that a storm could do that. Dorgene was right -- perhaps Nomin had taken her life upon the Steppe for granted. Though casualties and even fatalities from storms were not unheard of, they never took out entire swaths of members of the tribes she knew.

“...Why… Why continue to sail the seas knowing the dangers?” Nomin asked.

“I love the open waters. I love seeing new horizons. New people. New foods. New things to discover.” Dorgene’s smile returned, though the sad look behind her eyes remained. “Perhaps, one day, I shall also be brought into the sea’s embrace. But until then, this ship is my home, my tribe is my family.

[birdmitosis]

alright kit one voice of the paranoid pretty please with cherry on top 🥺

[ask game here]

(Thank you for re-sending this ask, IDK why Tumblr hated my last attempt so much-- 🥺💕)

HELL YEAH MY #1 BLORBINA!!!!!

First impression

Haha, okay, that vocal delivery is great and I love that paranoia of the "what if He hears us?" followed by "shit!" Paranoid characters can be really hit-or-miss, though, and this particular shtick could get old really fast; I hope it doesn't.

Impression now

My favorite darling who I love and adore, my most beloved of current blorbos, the reason my STP hyperfixation is so so strong, bird of my heart 💖

Favorite moment

This is such a hard call! I'm especially torn between two moments: Of course the initial "Heart. Lungs. Liver. Nerves." is amazing and holds a special place in my heart because it's the moment I knew I absolutely adored her. But also, despite loving absolutely everything about both the Wraith and the Moment of Clarity and the transitions into both of them… "Oh right, yeah, fuck this guy. Don't trust Him." all by itself makes me love freeing the Nightmare in her Chapter II just as much. (Not that there aren't other great lines in that path, like the delivery of "I thought you needed me to run the autonomic nervous system?" which is just hysterical to me! But that line… It just won me over even more.)

As an honorable mention, let me pour one out for the cut Paranoid moment in Apotheosis:

I carry this moment, and Paranoid's thoughts about listening to others' lies having value, in my heart forever. It's just such an interesting touch and I'm incredibly sad it's gone!

Idea for a story

I have so many unbaked, half-formed idea snippets and NO details to go with them:

Paranoid running into trouble when her overpreening habits leave her without the ability to fly in a key situation, when she'd been able to (with increasing difficulty) up to that point since getting out of the Construct.

The world outside the Construct being some post- or mid-apocalypse survival horror situation and somehow Paranoid's body winds up warping in ways that remind her unpleasantly of Nightmare, primarily a bunch of eyes beginning to open up all over her body, especially her wings.

Either post-Construct or a mundane AU, bird-people or human or just human-looking, where Paranoid figures out she's trans (and slowly gains in confidence) due to drag.

Something that explores the idea of the beta voices actually turning into some of the current voices (Doubting becoming Skeptic, Flinching becoming Cheated, Meek becoming Paranoid, and Obsessed becoming either Stubborn or both Hunted and Stubborn -- and Smitten splitting off from the beta's Hero too actually!). I actually do really like the idea of the beta voices being their own individual people out there somewhere, but Paranoid reverting to Meek for a while under some circumstance could be fun to play with! And only Hero, Broken, Cold, and Contrarian would even possibly remember Meek…

Unpopular opinion

Paranoid really is not helpless and I think some people forget that sometimes! She's also got wonky morals. I'd argue that the voices you can get in other voices' Chapter IIIs often says something about them; while getting Paranoid in Apotheosis is more her going "That's Enough" and getting Skeptic in both Eye of the Needle and Den is kind of the same, the way Cold and Opportunist both show up in Wraith-from-Nightmare feels more… simpatico with how Paranoid operates? Paranoid can be fucking ruthless and also seize any opportunity she spots, especially if she doesn't trust a person (and the only people she trusts are the Long Quiet and the other voices).

She is also totally willing to abandon or murder a woman and the only one she seems to feel at all bad about at any point to any degree is the Wounded Wild. She's also also super dedicated to coming out unharmed and surviving, but she will do things like advise slitting our own throat when she thinks it's a good idea, and she is prone to panic but also remarkably self-aware about it and knows her own paranoid tendencies aren't always good, and both of those things can be easy to forget but I love them!

Finally, I want to note that people sometimes seem to forget that she doesn't actually get along as badly with Opportunist as you'd think she might! Maybe it's because when you get Opportunist in Wraith, it's specifically via doing exactly what Paranoid is advising (or would advise) you to do in that situation. Cheated and even Hero are more snippy with and disparaging of Opportunist -- even Smitten is to some degree -- and Paranoid is more snippy with Hero and Broken, and Skeptic is the one who seems most disparaging of her. The dynamics being different from what you might think fascinates me, really, and I'm curious about how both new and old dynamics might end up looking in the Pristine Cut.

Favorite relationship

I MEAN…

Much like last time, romantically speaking I love her dynamic with Cold. But platonically, I'm fascinated by her dynamics with Broken, Opportunist, and the Narrator, love her dynamic with Hero, and would be interested to see more (or any) of her dynamic with Hunted, Skeptic, and/or Smitten in the Pristine Cut.

Among the vessels, I also think she'd have interesting dynamics with Damsel, Prisoner, Spectre, Stranger, and Thorn, and would actually love to see more of her dynamic with Nightmare, Wild, and Wraith. (Looking forward to those new Chapter IIIs, too, and I'm very curious about the expanded Apotheosis chapter!)

Favorite headcanon

Well, hands down my favorite headcanon is transfem Paranoid!

But I am also super attached to her having major difficulties with getting her own body: She overpreens to the point of not being able to fly, she has all sorts of trouble sleeping (nightmares, night terrors, insomnia, even sleepwalking), and worst of all she has a harder time trusting the others to the same extent that she used to, at least at first. They're still parsing as us but they're also parsing as other and it fucks with her a bit. She also can panic due to not being able to protect the others or sense the pain/injury/illness/etc. of the others the way she'd have been able to if they still shared a body...

Like, overall she does like having her own body, it's quieter and she has more control over herself, but there's a lot that's difficult about it for her too.

[marabarl-and-marlbara]

Hello. This is not a question I hope you don't mind I just wanna thank you for your art and your posts. I find your art extremely beautiful and your art has helped me through tough times. Thank you so much for your artistic creations and I hope you're having a good day. God bless you.

hey dirak-sea,

i don:t mind at all when people send me non-questions (though there:s a gamble sometimes where i:ll just read them and privately appreciate them and then delete them); thank you very much for the kind words--i really mean it each time i say it to someone who says they:ve enjoyed my writing or my art: it:s something i appreciate immensely to hear because it:s more often appreciation goes by quietly and my relationship to posting either art/writing is, too, very quiet--there:s not much expectation that it will be loved, and that makes it a surprise that it might be loved.

art, and blogging, is really tricky for me; my desire to output took a huge plummet when i forced myself to actively keep to myself for (just only about) a month and just that month of relative alienation taught me some (extremely boring) skills to self-soothe and appreciate depressions as they come, and as they go; and, without being as much of a leaky faucet for depressions, the desire to make art had been swept up with the bad habit of {loud helplessness} i'd been so reliant. and all of that is to say: that betterment i thought i learned had really just been some thin plaster over a rot of my character, as i:m lately finding myself incredibly depressed and in need to make art, and fearful of it as another contact-point for invisible hooks to be rent with; and all it leaves me with is this itch in my heart of a calm fear i must appreciate as an active chain or love keeping me in prayer, for the depression must be seen with awe and appreciation as a christian must see satan as part of god and christ (the dead process church would love that); to feel colorful moods and experiences needed for autofiction and dumb artworks; for myself though, i am mostly just recently and softly sad and appreciative of any kindness come my way--alone, and weak, i am trying to make paranoid drawings of blue cars that do nothing but be idol of a paranoia and breed to me more discomfitures of my own character to a simple'd paranoid skulked upon by blue and yet there, like a polyp in this world came from a hook piercing a fold in my brain that stood too tall, a blue car was in my drive holding a man in a blue shirt--and then all i can think of is making blue car drawings, and byproduct of my thought is all my thoughts are controlled by the blue car like a brain subjected to passions from music;

i finished In The Woods by Tana French (audiobook) yesterday, and it was a pleasant-mid-no-strong-feelings 3/5 listen; started Sharp Objects by Gillian Flynn (audiobook) this morning (seems alright after an hour); loving Wuthering Heights more and more--really i just hate the initial narrator the story is seen through, he:s a dweeby little poof;

take care; your humble servant