Hmm a song to pick… I am running out of songs. I guess I can pick something without too much thought. A song from Grey’s Anatomy possibly always featured in Smallville

Chasing Cars- Snow Patrol


A Girl of White Gold, Caught Between Joy and Dreams


Happy new year, everyone.

I’ll be submitting these at my own pace this year too, but I’m still eternally grateful for having you go along with me.



She had always been dishonest to her own feelings.

It was because of own happiness, she now realised, that she had been turning a blind eye to these things. That she had given up – a lie. That she could bear it – another lie.

If what she had now obtained was truly the pinnacle of joy, then it was possible that the happiness she had finally come to grasp would dwindle as time went on.

If she did come to lose it, then what would she do with herself? How would she spend the time she had left?

The young girl muttered this to herself, spilling clear droplets on the ‘seat’ in front of her.



She was spacing out again.

Dale, his expression one of worry, went to stroke Latina’s locks as she made a blank, dreamy expression. While Latina had taken to spacing out recently, and quite often, she still seemed to slip away like this many times, even after he had give her his official proposal.

He couldn’t help but be assaulted by the most peculiar sensation of anxiety. It wasn’t merely that he worried for her health, but rather that there was something ringing away at his very foundations in alarm.

So, he repeatedly called out her name.

He called out to her as if to have her come back to him.



“Yeah, I’m… I’m here.”

The weak smile Latina mustered for that answer almost seemed to him like the crying face of a child that had lost its way.



The bracelet Latina wore around her wrist had been prompt to invoke the attention of those around her.

Initially, Latina had wanted to put it away out of fear that it might break as she worked, but Dale had outright rejected that notion.

This wasn’t just a simply accessory; it was a magical tool. There was no way it would become grazed or cracked with ease.

“Besides, we need to make it really clear that you’re mine now, Latina.”

Once he had told her that, her cheeks had flushed red.

She clearly understood that there was meaning behind this accessory’s great value. It went to show that there was someone out there who had the power to present her with something so valuable; it showed that someone like him was around. By wearing that on her person, it would let those around her know that she had gained that someone’s affections.

And in her case, it was very much clear just who that someone was.

In any case, that night, Rudolf’s drinking capacity had increased. Not only him, but many a young fellow – and on occasion, a few other bastards of a more advanced age – took to drinking just a tad more.

The old fogies that frequented the place pelleted them with teasing banter and the occasional sexual harassment while gulping down gallons of booze.

That night, the number of customers that visited the Prancing Ocelot was nothing to sniff at, and the turnover ended up being much greater than usual.

The celebratory tips the regulars had gathered with their hard-earned coin did not go Latina’s way, as she seemed to be the type to outright refuse anything of the sort, and were instead daringly entrusted to the couple that ran the place, as was the norm by now.

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