“And now, I’m home.”

send  😊  for  a  happy  starter .

send  🙁  for  a  sad  starter .

send  🙌  for  an  excited  starter .

send  💢  for  an  angry  starter .

send  🌷  for  a  soft  starter .

send  😝  for  a  silly  starter .

send  💬  for  an  angsty  starter .

send  💀  for  a  violent  starter .

send  🌹  for  a  romantic  starter .

send  🔞  for  a  sexual  starter .

send  👼  for  a  comforting  starter .

send  👿  for  a  threatening  starter .

send  💥  for  an  argumentative  starter .

send  ⚔️  for  an  action  starter .

send  💋  for  a  flirty  starter .

send  ❤️  for  a  loving  starter .

send  🔪  for  a  hostile  starter .

send  👁️  for  an  envious  starter .

send  ❗  for  a  frightened  starter .

send  🩹  for  an  injured  /  sick  starter .

send  ⚠️  for  an  urgent  starter .

send  🥂  for  a  celebratory  starter .

send  👫  for  a  reunion  starter .

send  💤  for  a  lazy  starter .

send  🛡️  for  a  protective  starter .

send  🏠  for  a  domestic  starter .

send  🔥  for  an  intimate  starter .

“Not real?”

It would have cackled if the situation was at all funny. (Okay, so maybe it was a little funny, it knew exactly where the proper tools were to repair the lights.) But perhaps now wasn’t the time for laughter and games, it knew that from experience.

Maybe.

Maybe they could convince the copy of themselves.

Perhaps after the lights were on.

It started marching forward. Past the portraits on the wall and the etchings of insects, trees, and a horrible monster. Even as it brushed it’s hand across the old wallpaper, it left no traces behind. Faint ghostly candlelight flickering in the wind, and yet it left no shadow of itself.

Closer, and closer still. Yet it didn’t stop, acting almost as if it was going to collide with him.

Closer, and closer, and closer.

It suddenly stopped, an inch from his face. Scowling at him, with pale voids staring back into his. He can’t feel the breath on his face, but he’s sure he would if it could breathe.

And then, almost too softly—

“I left my tools in the second drawer down to the right. Spare lightbulbs and such, or cords to things I’m unsure of.”

To emphasize their point, they… Well, point at the correct drawer.

“It’s important to have a home well-lit for guests.”

Guests that wanted to play, play, play. And it could hardly contain itself, but perhaps for the sake of this poor shriveled thing… It would wait.

Frozen. No where to hide, no where to run, he was glued in place and his heart was roaring so loudly in his ears he couldn’t think. No, too many thoughts swirling in furious waves as always but he couldn’t grasp onto them and make use of the information they held. Focus, he urged, focus and look for an escape for a hiding place for anything at all to get out of this damned room!

Each step was too quick and too slow and his throat got tighter and tighter and he suppressed the urge to gasp for air. He wanted to shut his eyes as tight as possible and let the force blind him. If he couldn’t see it, it couldn’t possibly be real. 

Fake. It was all a dream. A hallucination. A macabre illusion crafted by an overworked brain running on little other than routine alone. 

That incessant creaking.

He grinded his teeth together until the pressure caused his gums to sting. His hands were trembling. Stop shaking, stop shaking–

It’s whispered words were deafening. He inhaled a quivering breath. It’s eyes were like foggy mirrors but he saw little of himself in it’s gaze. Physically the same but when he stared back, something awful and vile stirred in his gut. Dredging up something horrific he’d long suppressed down and down until it was nothing but an inkblot of emotion. The whole house seemed to groan under their weight and in that moment, those locked rooms and halls never felt more crowded. 

Your tools?

If this apparition was a reflection he supposed it only made sense for it to speak with his voice and of his possessions. With that thoroughly reasoned, his frightened features hardened considerably. Not tearing his eyes from the double, his free hand felt for the desk behind him, fumbling for the handle of the second most drawer. Brittle hands hesitated, and hesitated as though afraid a monster would be lying within, and then with a swift tug–clatter.

His eyes flicked over his shoulder. There they were. Dimmed domes of glass and haphazard coils of dark wires, looped together like sleeping snakes. He stared. When a floor above growled and creaked, his body kickstarted and he rolled his tongue against the roof of his dry mouth.

It hummed in fake thought.

“Of course there are guests, and it would be rude to ignore them,” They started, their voice much softer compared to before. “But maybe they wouldn’t mind playing with us.”

Yes, that would work out famously, wouldn’t it? The Guests sought out their host greedily, but perhaps if The Lodger hid... And it would be just as fun as playing the real thing!

“Hide-and-seek,” It couldn’t contain it’s outburst, fiddling with the small silver candleholder in it’s grasp. “It’s so much fun to watch the time roll backwards.”

Unfortunately, in their eagerness to play, they had completely forgotten about the foreign eye leaking more guests into their home, little by little.

A feminine voice rattled through their heads.

“Wait.”

The Doppelgänger simply turned their head to the approaching light from down the hall.

“A guest is coming,” They say plainly, rolling their head back towards The Lodger.

((Using starter 11 as inspiration from this post! The Doppelgänger interacting with The Lodger!))

@constantdangers

The house always made odd noises at night. This was to be expected, after all — The old cabin was nearly 60 years old now.

So there was no cause for alarm when a strong storm took out the power in the bedroom.

No cause for alarm when the walls twisted and contorted to reveal a single, staring eye.

And definitely no cause for alarm when footsteps started to ring throughout the house.

Just tricks of the light, the mind playing games it doesn’t understand. All sorts of noises being mimicked by the old foundation filling with rain water. Certainly nothing to lose your nerves over.

Nothing at all.

Even when you hear the footsteps approach,

and a soft,

raspy,

but playful voice rings out.

“You can’t fool me,” It chuckles. “I see the rings under your eyes, and the way you yawn,”

Faded orange hair, sunken pale skin, wide white eyes staring back at you.

“You’re exhausted.” It grins.

Light! Light, he needed light! No–he wouldn’t be able to see them without the darkness! But the breach, his mind reasoned, a breach has wormed it’s way into his walls! The cacophony of creaking and crackling and laughing and stepping between his temples like a chorus from the depths of hell wound it’s way inside of his skull, and his head was pounding like the knocking that plagued the front of his home in the waking hours.

Hands fumbled and shook over the desk for his light bulb tools and materials, lit only by a single orange flame flickering as a breeze swept through the dilapidated labyrinth of a cabin. His poor eyesight wasn’t made for this! The strain was exacerbating the thud thud thud between his ears and he was about to bite through his lip. His breath turned from rapid inhales to a frantic wheeze and then in one fell swoop it disappears completely.

No, no no no no no–!

He spun around faster than his slippers could keep up and his back thundered so hard against the table he felt it reverberate up his spine. Nervous fingers encircled the candle holder and brandished it out into the darkness. Glassy, sleep deprived eyes met the cold mirror of his own and he wished he’d been scared enough for the heart in his chest to stop. 

“You,” He breathed, “I’m not…” A mumble. His eyes snapped shut tightly and for a moment the purple and red are emphasized in the candle light, a wet and hoarse inhale raking through his throat. 

Steady yourself, he reminded his mind. It is nothing more than a bad dream. You are a scientist. Ghosts do no exist. He had been alone for far too long, he reasoned, and he was far too tired. 

It would have cackled if the situation was at all funny. (Okay, so maybe it was a little funny, it knew exactly where the proper tools were to repair the lights.) But perhaps now wasn’t the time for laughter and games, it knew that from experience.

Maybe.

Maybe they could convince the copy of themselves.

Perhaps after the lights were on.

It started marching forward. Past the portraits on the wall and the etchings of insects, trees, and a horrible monster. Even as it brushed it’s hand across the old wallpaper, it left no traces behind. Faint ghostly candlelight flickering in the wind, and yet it left no shadow of itself.

Closer, and closer still. Yet it didn’t stop, acting almost as if it was going to collide with him.

Closer, and closer, and closer.

It suddenly stopped, an inch from his face. Scowling at him, with pale voids staring back into his. He can’t feel the breath on his face, but he’s sure he would if it could breathe.

And then, almost too softly—

“I left my tools in the second drawer down to the right. Spare lightbulbs and such, or cords to things I’m unsure of.”

To emphasize their point, they... Well, point at the correct drawer.

“It’s important to have a home well-lit for guests.”

questions best asked for those who portray canon characters, and for those who’d like to get to know the author behind said canons better.

What made you pick up this character?

How did you get into this franchise/fandom?

What’s the best thing about the show/series/books/comics/etc.?

What’s the worst thing about the show/series/books/comics/etc.?

What’s the best thing about the fandom?

What’s the worst thing about the fandom?

What’s the best thing about the canon you are writing?

What’s the worst thing about the canon you are writing?

Have you tweaked the character from canon? If so, what did you tweak?

Would you say that your portrayal is canon divergent or not? 

Are there some things you dislike about how the show/series/etc. portray the character you have picked up? If so, what?

What would you say is the most unique trait about your character?

Are there any other characters from the franchise you’d like to play?

Are there some characters from the franchise you can’t stand? 

What are your thoughts on the canon ships for the character, if any?

What is your personal ship bias for your canon character?

Are there any ships you can’t stand, why?

How long have you been writing the character?

Should people get into the franchise your writing from, yes or no?

If you could sum up your character with one sentence, what would it be?

The TL;DR: I’m a disabled, trans queer man who’s facing maybe being homeless for a third time. I desperately need money to pay legal fees so my mother can get divorced from my father so she won’t go bankrupt from Medicare and so we can get into the inheritance my grandfather left us. I’m totally dependent on her

Cashapp is $waalgr and paypal is [email protected]

$50 out of $2,000

I also have an amazon wishlist with some things that aren’t really necessary but would be nice, like the dog food that makes Violet smell less bad and bedsheets that don’t have holes in them. https://www.amazon.com/hz/wishlist/ls/27LX5H4TNFHJ0?ref_=wl_share

A scientist! Of course, that made sense. He seemed like a rational man. Perhaps wild hair and eye bags were a common trait among them? He wouldn’t know, he hadn’t seen another person (Especially a fellow scientist!) in years.

If he liked using his brain, perhaps he could try a different game?

“I’m everything a shy person might adopt. Spokespeople fear me, and the quiet utter me often. I’m the opposite of clear spoken words. What am I?”

Of course, his own name was Bormot! ‘To mumble’ is what it meant, but he would throw the Englishman some slack if he got close.

… His name was Bormot, wasn’t it? It was hard to remember. Sometimes home felt like a faint memory, and the copies of himself would insist that he was the fake. What nonsense! But no need to dwell on that, he could sense the scientist’s obvious frustration. His body language made him

Wilson Higgsbury, hm? He hoped they could be friends. He smiles wider at the taller man, tapping at his candle holder again. An anxious habit. Cocking his head as he eagerly awaited the answer.

He perked at the sound of a potential riddle or puzzle and his once unsure hands came to rest on a recently shaven chin in contemplation. A raised brow, eyes drifting to the sky, and his mouth moving in focused circles as though the thoughts he had moments before had not been there at all. He wasn’t one to turn down an intellectual challenge of any kind, no matter the situation. 

What did all those things have in common? Shy people…quiet…spokespeople fear the quiet…? No no, stay on track Higgsbury. What was that last thing he had said? The…opposite of spoken words? No. Clear, spoken words. What sort of…AH! Whispers!  No… His face scrunched as he worked quickly through the sentences over and over until he was near muttering under his breath and suddenly he snapped and the sound rang in his ears, taking his attention away from the beaming, mad grin that was almost painful to bear. “A murmur! Or a mumble? Yes, I’m sure of it!” He proclaimed. Hearing himself speak(himself) made the revelation turn the gears in his mind and his smile briefly faltered to one of confusion and his hand flopped back down to limply point at the stranger in front of him. “Your…name is a murmur? Or…a mumble?” Now he felt wrong in his declaration. Wouldn’t be the first time! What kind of a silly name would that be? “Hold on, hold on,” He waved through the air like it would reset his choice, “I can figure it out! Surely that couldn’t be your name. It must be more complicated than I thought…” The last bit he huffed to himself as he hunched back into a ruminative position, features drawn into a deep, determined scowl.

“Yes! Close, close!”

They try to think of a way to help him, since he clearly doesn’t want the exact answer.

“How about I tell you how my name sounds?” He’s already coming up with another ‘riddle’. Before Wilson can protest further, he continues.

“I’m the death of students’ passion. I’m the result of small-talk and repetitive tasks. What am I?”

He would start with the way the first word sounded in English, “bore.” It would be difficult to come to that conclusion with what he gave, so he’d let the fellow scientist ponder on it.

send 🍯 for a food headcanon

send🥛for a drink headcanon

send 🐢 for a mental health headcanon

send 🦄 for a physical health headcanon

send ⌛for a sleep headcanon

send 💕 for a love headcanon

send 💣 for a stress headcanon

send 😵 for a sickness headcanon

send 🤲 for a religious headcanon

send 🏡 for a home headcanon

send 🍬 for a family headcanon

send 💼 for a work headcanon

send ⛈️ for a sadness headcanon

send 😡 for an anger headcanon

send 💩 for a ridiculous headcanon

At the introduction of new words, he grins.

“Who are you?” They point a finger accusingly back towards Wilson, stealing his words again. “An eye for an eye, a name for a price.”

He’s a bit confused by the stranger’s question. He was just talking, what was special about that?

Wilson reminded him of a certain someone. All work and no play leads to a sad and lonely death.

“Answer, then play with us?” They smile hopefully, tapping their fingers against their candle holder.

He’s still disappointed by the fact that he can’t see inside the stranger’s home anymore. He could always look later, he supposed.

“You’re being a very rude host!” The doppelgänger still grins despite his words.

There he went again! Taking his words like they belonged to him! Such casual thievery in broad daylight! And sure, perhaps he shouldn’t be surprised as there were much stranger things taking place on the daily around this glorified excuse for purgatory, but there was something near infuriating to hear his own voice–the blasted voice he was stuck with hearing over and over and over again–biting into his skin like a hound’s jaws. 

He was used to the deriding of his own thoughts but to have it as something so tangible, something he could hear as clear as any other survivor on this island (he heard enough of his own failures already!), was near enough to drive him up a wall. 

Yet, the scientist merely let his breath carry him upwards and a hand pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes closing tightly. “Right, okay, sure…”

An eye for an eye, a name for a price? What did that mean? And he hasn’t had to ‘host’ anything in a very long time! The Constant was hardly the place to be worried over manners. He would host nothing at all had it been up to him. If it weren’t for his pride(and something inside deeply repressed he wasn’t keen to unearth), he would toss it all into the gutter. 

“Wilson,” He uttered when he opened his eyes again and instinctively crossed both arms over his torso, “Wilson Higgsbury. I’m a scientist. And if you wanted to play games, I suggest seeking out one of the kids. I’m not really suited for those things.” Unless those games involved an unnecessary amount of wit and wordplay. It wasn’t something said to be malicious, even considering the circumstances. He had never thought himself good at children’s games. Kids were…difficult. He did his best but he was unsure if his methods were correct. 

“Now does our guest have a name? Believe me, you don’t want me to come up with something.”

If he liked using his brain, perhaps he could try a different game?

“I’m everything a shy person might adopt. Spokespeople fear me, and the quiet utter me often. I’m the opposite of clear spoken words. What am I?”

Of course, his own name was Bormot! ‘To mumble’ is what it meant, but he would throw the Englishman some slack if he got close.

... His name was Bormot, wasn’t it? It was hard to remember. Sometimes home felt like a faint memory, and the copies of himself would insist that he was the fake. What nonsense! But no need to dwell on that, he could sense the scientist’s obvious frustration. His body language made him

The strange guest stared at Wilson, drinking in his appearance with a grin in return. His wild hair and bags under his eyes reminded him of a certain someone… But it was hard to place!

Most of all, he loved his voice. Everything about it unfamiliar, in accent and tone. He wanted it.

“Yeesh, you look like you’ve seen better days!”

He had to giggle to himself, returning the insult with such a fun voice! The R’s so silent compared to the harsh rolling he was used to. The voice so confident compared to the nervous whisper he had adopted over the years.

“You look like you’ve seen better days,” The doppelgänger was practicing with it, playing with the tone.

He had nearly forgotten! He was here to play a game with someone! Going home could wait, there was someone here. A new friend, perhaps? A future guest to invite to his little middle of nowhere, to serve dinner to and tuck him in one of the various guest rooms.

Out of pure curiosity, he tries to peek over Wilson’s shoulder into his camp, to get a closer look at his home. Being a decent guest could wait for just a bit — This was all just so exciting!

His eyes fix back on Wilson, though it’s not as if it’s easy to tell. “Hide and seek,” He returns to his ‘original’ voice. “Or maybe tag?” Hopefully this stranger knew how to play games! If not, he could teach him how. It was so much fun to hide and watch the time roll backwards. He was fidgeting with his little silver candle holder.

He was so excited that he had ignored Wilson’s previous question.

Wilson’s heart sank into his stomach and the taste in his mouth turned sour. That was his voice. Was he much less sane than he had thought himself to be? By all scientific accounts, even by the nonsensical laws of the Constant, that shouldn’t be possible! What was this witchcraft? He caught himself staring in shock for much longer than he would like to admit, his skin turning to ice against the breeze as he tried to process the sound of his own voice being projected back to him. 

He wasn’t just using his voice, he was messing with it. It was bad enough he had such an unfortunate reputation back home. Imagine the further damage someone could do if they had the ability to just snatch his tongue and say whatever they pleased! 

Shaking his head and letting his hands follow suit, he reigned himself back into reality. “Whoa whoa, you want to play games? You just got here!” He said and then lowered himself slightly to scrunch up his face in distaste towards the vocal thief, “And you have some explaining to do!” Wilson stepped out of the threshold and pulled the door shut behind him. They were going absolutely no where near the precious commodities of camp until he figured out what, exactly, he was dealing with here. Yes. The scientific method…or something. 

“Who are you?” He asked coldly and folded his arms in front of him, though his eyes betrayed his curiosity barely withheld under the surface. He’d be lying to himself if he said he didn’t have ulterior motives for figuring out this stranger’s odd behaviors and abilities. The universe couldn’t just hand him something this interesting and expect him to not want to pry every bit of information out of it as he could. “And what was that–” He made a circular motion with a finger towards the redhead, pausing to think, “–thing you did just there?”

“Who are you?” They point a finger accusingly back towards Wilson, stealing his words again. “An eye for an eye, a name for a price.”

He’s a bit confused by the stranger’s question. He was just talking, what was special about that?

Wilson reminded him of a certain someone. All work and no play leads to a sad and lonely death.

“Answer, then play with us?” They smile hopefully, tapping their fingers against their candle holder.

He’s still disappointed by the fact that he can’t see inside the stranger’s home anymore. He could always look later, he supposed.

“Good enough if I do say so myself,” Wilson murmured and dusted off the dirt from his hands. It wasn’t that he was eager to find himself six feet under any time soon or end up sore from yet another resurrection, he just disliked some chores more than others. Usually if it meant securing other people’s safety over his own, he’d be a little more motivated to get it done. Old habits, perhaps, but when it came to his own wellbeing he would rather be doing literally anything else, frankly. 

And one of those things, he thought as he nudged a pile of grass and twigs against the camp wall with his foot, was science experiments. Being the only person around with any semblance of medicinal knowledge was a bloody nightmare. Even if he found time to engage in his own scientific pursuits, it was almost always undermined by someone with a broken nose or a gushing wound. Of course he was more than happy to help but what did a man have to do for some peace and quiet around here? He was both thankful and wholeheartedly infuriated at his medical degree.

Standing back up to his full height, he propped his hands onto his hips and glanced around the camp. The air smelled crisp with ozone and the grass blew in golden waves, each strand against another like the sound of water against the coast. The fortifications around camp creaked with a strong gust and taking another look around, his heart bounded at the emptiness. A manic grin spread ear to ear and his hands clasped together with mad glee as his dark eyes bounced from one survivor-less spot to the other. 

“Finally,” He breathed, “I can get some work done!” With no one in sight, he was free to do whatever he wanted! And no one to complain about his mumbling, either. He gathered a blueprint into his arms hastily and hurried over to his cluttered, rickety table and rolled it out with a wide, overdramatic flourish. He pinned down each corner with a variety of useless trinkets and smooth out the paper with his palms. “Now where did I leave off?”

Knock knock knock!

“Oh for the love of–” Wilson’s forehead promptly thudded against the desk. He just had to mentally mention how quiet it was, didn’t he? He thought he would finally have time to work on something of his interests when…hold on. He didn’t know that voice. He had a pretty good memory. A perfect one, even, when it came to these sorts of things. He did go to grad school after all, but more importantly, he was a scientist and the devil was in the details. While that accent might have tugged familiarity, the voice it was attached to did not.

Cautiously, he pushed himself back to his full height once more with narrowed eyes. A new survivor, perhaps? Well, whoever it was sure had nice manners for being in the Constant. Here he was thinking that was a rare commodity.

His mother would have laughed at that and made fun of his “poor bedside manners” and that it was “a surprise anyone would want to get treated by him at all”.

“If you can classify me as ‘somebody’,” Wilson practically whispered to himself as he trekked over to their rickety door with one hand tucked behind his back. He laid the other on the door then paused, bristly brows furrowing with thought. “Who’s asking? If you’re Wortox trying to play a prank on me again, forget it! I won’t fall for anything of the sort for the third time.” The fact that there had been a first and a second was embarrassing in of itself and he wasn’t keen on hearing mockery from an amused Willow over him being gullible.  

And yet, he couldn’t help himself. He was curious in nature (or stupid, depending on who you asked) and he couldn’t turn away a newcomer in need, so not a moment later he swung the makeshift wooden door open and was taken aback when he had to crane his head down towards a scruffy little redhead. He started to make a remark about being half right based on hair color alone but startled upwards when he noticed their strange, glassy eyes. “Yeesh, you look like you’ve seen better days.”

Wilson internally recoiled at the blurted phrase and retracted a hand to rub along the back of his neck, shooting the stranger a crazy, albeit apologetic smile. He’s seen weirder looking folk emerge into this world. Sometimes even he surprised himself with what came out of his mouth. “Sorry. Uh…who are you?”

The strange guest stared at Wilson, drinking in his appearance with a grin in return. His wild hair and bags under his eyes reminded him of a certain someone... But it was hard to place!

Most of all, he loved his voice. Everything about it unfamiliar, in accent and tone. He wanted it.

“Yeesh, you look like you’ve seen better days!”

He had to giggle to himself, returning the insult with such a fun voice! The R’s so silent compared to the harsh rolling he was used to. The voice so confident compared to the nervous whisper he had adopted over the years.

“You look like you’ve seen better days,” The doppelgänger was practicing with it, playing with the tone.

He had nearly forgotten! He was here to play a game with someone! Going home could wait, there was someone here. A new friend, perhaps? A future guest to invite to his little middle of nowhere, to serve dinner to and tuck him in one of the various guest rooms.

Out of pure curiosity, he tries to peek over Wilson’s shoulder into his camp, to get a closer look at his home. Being a decent guest could wait for just a bit — This was all just so exciting!

His eyes fix back on Wilson, though it’s not as if it’s easy to tell. “Hide and seek,” He returns to his ‘original’ voice. “Or maybe tag?” Hopefully this stranger knew how to play games! If not, he could teach him how. It was so much fun to hide and watch the time roll backwards. He was fidgeting with his little silver candle holder.

“Good enough if I do say so myself,” Wilson murmured and dusted off the dirt from his hands. It wasn’t that he was eager to find himself six feet under any time soon or end up sore from yet another resurrection, he just disliked some chores more than others. Usually if it meant securing other people’s safety over his own, he’d be a little more motivated to get it done. Old habits, perhaps, but when it came to his own wellbeing he would rather be doing literally anything else, frankly. 

And one of those things, he thought as he nudged a pile of grass and twigs against the camp wall with his foot, was science experiments. Being the only person around with any semblance of medicinal knowledge was a bloody nightmare. Even if he found time to engage in his own scientific pursuits, it was almost always undermined by someone with a broken nose or a gushing wound. Of course he was more than happy to help but what did a man have to do for some peace and quiet around here? He was both thankful and wholeheartedly infuriated at his medical degree.

Standing back up to his full height, he propped his hands onto his hips and glanced around the camp. The air smelled crisp with ozone and the grass blew in golden waves, each strand against another like the sound of water against the coast. The fortifications around camp creaked with a strong gust and taking another look around, his heart bounded at the emptiness. A manic grin spread ear to ear and his hands clasped together with mad glee as his dark eyes bounced from one survivor-less spot to the other. 

“Finally,” He breathed, “I can get some work done!” With no one in sight, he was free to do whatever he wanted! And no one to complain about his mumbling, either. He gathered a blueprint into his arms hastily and hurried over to his cluttered, rickety table and rolled it out with a wide, overdramatic flourish. He pinned down each corner with a variety of useless trinkets and smooth out the paper with his palms. “Now where did I leave off?”

Taking a walk in the forest was apparently more dangerous than he had thought. Or perhaps this was just a great big adventure? Yes, that was what he would call this. At the end of the day, he’ll make the journey back home... Wherever that may be!

He liked the smell of things here. Unlike back home, everything was lively. The soil was rich, and sprouting many different kinds of grass. There were more birds than just crows, and the very earth thrummed with an unfamiliar energy. Occasionally, the ground would move with little digging creatures. He had even come across a kitty cat on a stump! Or maybe it was a raccoon? Once or twice, he even caught sight of moving shadows! It was a shame no one had wanted to play any games with him, however. He couldn’t be too upset, though — After all, he had popped in uninvited!

Eventually, he came across a set of crude walls and doors, with no roof. Perhaps this was what a ‘home’ was around here? He had to giggle to himself at the notion, how would they keep rain out? How would they keep the forest from creeping inside?

Nevertheless, he was a good guest. He knew his manners, he wouldn’t openly insult whoever the homeowner was... At least, if they weren’t rude!

Gripping his candleholder to the side, he knocked three times exactly. An old habit of his.