#figuring out the color pallete is pain sometimes

[passsionfish]

oh yeah i made 5 new vessel ocs in one day you know how it is

[jurijyuu]

In the Ashes of the Garden

AdamxLucifer (Hazbin Hotel)

3.7K Words

When death came for him a final time, a new god reached out her black-fogged hands with a promise.

"Kill for me." She whispered.

"Only if I can drag that punk Lucifer with me too!"

Tags: Hazbin Hotel x Dead By Daylight Crossover, Stabbing, Slashing, Typical DBD stuff, angst, hurt

This is part of the Hooked on Hazbin 2024 event @fraugwinska and @macabr3-barbi3 hooked us into. Please check out these other creators below! Happy Halloween!!

Link to Hooked on Hazbin 2024 Masterlist

It always felt surreal how bright the sun shone in this place, how golden it colored the corn fields and painted everything in a golden afternoon. But the sun’s warmth never reached you. The Entity, the being that trapped you here, was far above understanding how humans interacted with weather. It simply plucked images from memories and reconstructed them into its game. If it brought neither pain nor fear, it didn’t spend any energy to perfect an object’s detail.

So the sun shone brightly but you couldn’t feel its warmth. The yellowed corn stalks swayed lightly though there wasn’t a breeze to be felt. And your footsteps crunched against gritty dirt, each sound a beacon that could lead the Killer to your location.

“Psst.” 

Your eyes followed the soft hiss, finding a white face haloed by golden hair calling you from one of the gym walls. You quickly ran over, deciding quick steps were worth the extra noise if you could get to your trial mate faster.

Lucifer, a short man with a lithe build and covered in way too much white for all the shit you were both going through, had started on a generator. Pale hands reached into the belly of the machinery, pulling and twisting wires with the knowledge the Entity granted its Survivors. Coming to the other side, you did the same, hoping to fix the generator before this trial’s Killer found you both.

“Did you figure out who it is?”

“I heard rock music. Could be one of the Legion. Maybe the Dragon.” Though you’d traveled a good distance from where you’d spawned on the trial ground, you hadn’t seen your opponent for this match. In the distance, you heard a faint sound of music. It narrowed it down. Only a few Killers were cocky enough to play music as they went hunting. 

“If it’s Adam, run. I’ll distract him like usual.” The sun shone in your eyes when you tried to glance around the generator to your friend. His suggestion was a given. Around the same time he was kidnapped into the Entity’s game, a new Killer popped up too. Not long after, it became apparent that the two were related. Lucifer referred to the new Killer by his name and the Killer had a particular bone to pick with the ex-angel.

Your experience with the new killer was limited though enough to give you a firm impression. Adam, or the Dragon as the other survivors preferred to call him, was a cocky asshole. He would taunt and act nonchalant before brutally hitting people with his guitar-axe. He gave off a carefree attitude most of the time. He did have a temper though, often getting vindictive for the littlest things. If you laughed at him because someone stunned him with a pallet or if you managed to lose him during a chase, he just went berserk. 

It was worse when Lucifer was in a trial. All that nonchalant air that hung about him disappeared. It turned into a fiery rage. It didn’t help that Lucifer, all too familiar with the man, seemed to just love throwing jabs at him. It always ended up with Adam chasing Lucifer around the whole map without a care for any of the other survivors. 

You felt bad for that. You’d been the object of a chase plenty of times to know that it wasn’t easy to get away from the Killers who got a boost of everything from the Entity. Whether it was speed, strength or bloodlust, the spidery being had amplified it within the bodies it chose to torture you all. 

At the end of the day, it was still the best strategy. Lucifer distracts and everyone gets out (or sometimes just the other three) gets out. You nodded to Lucifer, letting the man know your acknowledgement.

Just as the generator roared to life, a scream rang throughout the rotten fields. It sounded like Meg. Not long after, a male voice screamed and you saw Detective Tapp fall down quite a distance from you two.

“What the fuck are they doing?” To get downed one after the other…was it Legion after all or were the two just not paying attention?

You and Lucifer glanced at each other and nodded before heading in opposite directions. You needed to save the other two if you wanted to get out of here alive. There were still four more generators to do. Sneaking your way across the field to where Meg dangled from a hook, you glanced left and right. The Killer wasn’t in sight but you didn’t hear the distinct thrill of someone getting a hook through their shoulder so you guessed Tapp was still okay. 

With another quick check at your surroundings, you ran for Meg. The poor girl was quietly sobbing, blood gushing from her wound as you took her off the hook.

“It’s the Dragon.”

“Okay. Lucifer went in his direction. He should be chasing him now.” Understanding dawned on Meg’s face not long after and she immediately prostrated her shoulder and side for you to help treat. With the Killer distracted by his strange obsession with Lucifer, you had time to patch her up before you split up again to cover more ground.

At least, that was what you thought.

“Hey girlie.” A snide voice was all you heard before a fiery pain erupted from your shoulder, the push of a heavy blade tumbling you forward with only your shock and many experiences to catch you. Without looking back, you bolted, almost stumbling into Meg who was also shocked by the sudden appearance of the Killer.

You tried to block a hit for Meg, hoping to give her more time to escape as she’d already been hooked once. But the Dragon wasn’t going to ignore your sacrifice, swinging wide until his blade sliced the back of your thigh, sending you tumbling to the ground. It would have been fine had he actually focused his attention on you, had he actually picked you up to try and hook you. But the man ignored you, focusing on chasing Meg as he left you to bleed out on the ground.

That…wasn’t his usual modus operandi. The man was…kinda lazy. Once he downed a survivor, he’d hook them and scare away everyone else. He guaranteed one kill a match unless he was in a mood. The only times he actually deviated from that would be when Lucifer was in a trial, and only then because he tunneled the pale man with such avid hatred and fury, a look too worthy of calling Lucifer his obsession.

This trial went to shit so quickly after that. No amount of distraction or taunting from Lucifer could stop the killer from chasing everyone else. He tunneled and wrecked generators, played mind games like you’d never seen. It was like a completely different man altogether had taken over him, turning an annoying yappy murderer into a cunning ruthless monster. All the while, a guitar riff played in the background, flames sprouting from his mouth as his bloodlust reached new heights.

Rounding the corner of the barn with your heartbeat in your throat and feet desperate to escape the killer on your heels, you toppled to the ground, another slash joining the many others slicing your body open. Despair trickled through your body like your blood seeping into the dirt and dried hay. Only two generators were done but Meg and Tapp were already sacrificed and once a hook pierced your shoulder, you would be gone too.

“Take that ya little rat.” A voice gruff from running but high off of victory came from above you, from a mask that glowed with flame yellow eyes and a grin as sharp as his blade. With two huge horns coming from his head, a bloodied and torn robe, he stood against the light of the false sun. Like the devil himself come to drag you to Hell.

Sharp black claws grabbed fistfuls of you sides, digging into your injuries, as he hefted you onto his shoulder. You just hoped Lucifer could find the hatch and escape this round.

“So fucking hard to catch, always dodging and hiding like a little mouse. But I got your ass, babe. Hah!” A sharp slap of a hard palm whipped your ass and you struggled to break free. Just as he went back around the corner you came from, a bright light shone from behind you and you felt yourself drop before someone’s hand went to drag you forward from the blinded killer. 

“Aargghh! You fucking asshole! Come here you little bastard!” 

With adrenaline in your veins, you ran but the wounds took their toll and you eventually lagged behind and got caught again, eating a face full of dirt as you skid to the ground, Adam’s axe still swinging as he tried to get a hit on Lucifer too. But the shorter man was nimble, easily scrambling just a hair away but close, so close. Close enough that in the midst of his bloodlust, the killer didn’t even bother with you.

He figured with how battered you were, you’d bleed to death while he chased after Lucifer. Without the other pesky chumps in the trial, the fallen angel wouldn’t be able to escape him this time. 

You watched the two disappear, crawling into a corner to recuperate. There wasn’t much left in you and you had to decide, did you let yourself die so Lucifer could get the hatch or did you try to win? In all honesty, with how the killer was acting during this trial, the odds were against you but…in the distance, Lucifer was laughing, taunting the killer while dodging and outrunning him like he’d been stuck in this God-forsaken world for centuries rather than…maybe a few weeks. If you died, he could get to the hatch and escape.

You were about to let yourself bleed out when a scream rang through the empty fields. The killer got Lucifer.

It was enough to shock you into action, the surprise of it giving you just enough strength to push to peer over the corn and hay bales in the direction the scream came from. That couldn’t be right. Adam had never caught Lucifer before. But it was bound to happen eventually, wasn’t it? The pale man always too the heat from the Dragon, becoming the most essential part of surviving against this particular killer.

Now, he was at the man’s mercy. And Adam had it out for him. You were afraid. Cold dread and a wash of concern speared through your chest. Each killer was cruel but none of them seemed to hold a grudge against any particular survivor. They favored some over others, enjoying hunting those particular people. But Adam, the Dragon, had only hatred and rage when it came to Lucifer. And you were scared of what that meant. What kind of sick mori would he subject the pale man to.

All your worry for him solidified into action, pumping worry and adrenaline through your veins until you found the strength to get up again, you would seemingly numb against the need to make sure that Lucifer got out of this match. The man had yet to be broken, truly traumatized by anything in this sick realm of an uncaring god’s creation. He was strong against his deaths, laughed against pain and injury. He encouraged you when it was your job to get him up to speed with things he had yet to learn. You couldn’t…couldn’t stand the thought of seeing him like some of the others.

When a match went worse than they’d ever thought possible, when the killer had truly turned into a monster. When they’d been determined to inflict suffering to a degree that even the Entity didn’t demand of them. When it took many cycles around the campfire before the cracks in their souls mended and they could stand to face another killer. When the Entity snuffed them out, the pain they’d suffered left them too broken to be her toys.

You ran as best you could, just in time to see a punch hit Lucifer square in the guts.

“Not so hot now, are ya you punk.” A heavy studded leather boot kicked the shorter man, causing him to stumble and splay onto a dropped pallet. “Think you were hot shit cuz you got away all those times? Well news flash you clown-faced freak, you can’t do anything without those losers to help ya.” The Dragon landed another heavy blow onto Lucifer’s face.

“What did you say? Oh right. You’re in my house now, bitch!” Fist and fist rained meaty blows against the smaller body, the white outfit Lucifer wore turning red with each piece of skin broken. Meanwhile the man, himself, only coughed, laying limp against the onslaught in a show of demureness that you’d never seen from him. The fight was one-sided, abuse raining on a defenseless party. 

“It wasn’t enough that you stole my wives! You had to get me cast out of Eden too! Then you have the motherfucking gall to kill me!? Kill me!!? I’m the original man! All those humans that you love so much come from me! But you—“ Adam lifted the smaller man up, the blood seeping from his split lip trickling down his face. The fucker had the nerve to smile helplessly at him, the same one he had when he spoke of his dreams and the rejection of the grand council of archangels. Back when they were friends. 

So many fucking trials since he died and was first brought here and he finally caught this fucker. He could finally let him taste the end. Cut into him with his axe, hear him scream with the agony and misery he deserved. But the man just looked at him, a calm smile on his face like he was indulging his spoiled child. With a yell, he slammed the man into the pallet, the makeshift structure creaking at the force.

“You should’ve been my guide, should’ve been my friend! Instead, you screwed me over!” Lucifer just watched, letting the blows come without a fuss. Why!? Why wasn’t he fighting back? You expected a snappy quip. The devil had a tongue to match but he just lay there. You moved from your hiding spot, ready to push the killer off of him when a worn voice, strained and bloody, cut through the pause in Adam’s fists.

Lucifer coughed. It didn’t hurt nearly as much as it would have had Adam had his Heavenly blessings but his powers weren’t fully there either, his body healing so slowly from the blows. Blood pooled in his throat as he swallowed. Above him, he spied what the mask Adam wore hid behind slanted yellow eyes and snarling teeth. It was endearing, something tickling his heart to hear. Adam’s held back cries still sounded the same, thousands of years later. He smiled, a sad little thing at the first man. “I would’ve stolen you too. I wish I did.”

“What the fuck did you just say!?”

“It wasn’t just Lilith or Eve.” It strained his throat to talk but each breath without getting punched gave him strength to pour out a confession he couldn’t have said before, not as the King of Hell. But here, he was just a soul trapped by the Entity, and the man above him was his killer. “I wanted you too.”

“Fuck you! You—you ruined everything! Damned all of humanity and—and…” The nerve of this asshole! Spouting shit when—when…“you left me.” The weight of ten thousand years of anger and hate condensed into a pathetic whisper as familiar red eyes looked at him in that dopish way from so very long ago. “You took Lilith with you and when Eve died, she went down too…but you left me. All alone. Just me.” Was that really it? Not the cheating? Not the damnation of humanity? In the face of the first friend he’d ever made, all his blazing hate and anger turned to ashes in his chest, leaving only the feeling of that first dawn in Heaven. The first dawn without any of his loved ones with him.

“I never wanted to.” A deep whisper, sincere and gentle as sin came from the man he was trying to choke, regretful pity gazing up at him from a cracked face that was already mending itself.

“Shut up! Liar!” He snarled, slamming the small body again. Lucifer was always a liar. A snake in the grass. He said he’d always be there. He said he was his guardian angel. He said he loved him but let him face the disappointment of God and an afterlife in regret!

“Adam—“

“I said, shut up!” That mouth that only whispered lies and temptation, he shut it with his mouth, letting his teeth cut into soft yielding flesh. And he cried. Because he could feel the angel kiss him back. 

You watched the exchange, shocked still only a few yards away. What the fuck did you just see? Your eyes trailed over them, trying to find even a hint of distress or pain. Something that told you what to do. But even as the killer pushed his weight onto Lucifer, the two remained locked in a kiss. Blackened hands and gloved claws started to roam slowly, gently, desperately and shame filled you. You shouldn’t be seeing this. 

But what if Lucifer needed help? But he didn’t look like he needed it. Conflicted, you watched, stepping back into the shadows with caution. Not too far from you, you spied a generator. Should…should you continue the trial? 

A ravenous tongue plundered his mouth but he had an equally monstrous one of his own to battle with. Above him, the bigger man groaned, pressing deeper into him.  Black fingertips slowly curled their way under the mask and Adam pulled away.

“Adam, let me see your face.” Lucifer looked up at him with wide serious eyes and a stubborn rip within him mashed defiantly at the look. He was in control here. He dragged the angel into this realm. He had all the power to finally fuck this asshole up.

“You’re not in any position to be making requests here, mother—“ 

“Please.” But Lucifer looked up at him with his wide red eyes, the dots on his face drawing close as he frowned in a small plea. Here was the King of Hell, softly asking to look upon him. He’d never imagined he’d see that face ever again, only seeing the mockery on the harlequin features when his enemy’s face came to mind. He’d spent many years pushing away the memories of the Garden after all. He’d forgotten how soft Lucifer could look, the former favorite of Heaven, and it stilled the resistance in him. 

“Please, Adam.” He called again. The man above him frowned, torn and unsure. He brought his hands up, tentatively placing them at the seam of his mask, waiting for resistance, taking the lack of it as permission. Lucifer breathed a sigh of relief when under the mask was the same man he saw at the battle of the hotel, piercings and mussed up hair. Only his horns were permanent now, standing proudly atop his head. He wondered how the gods knew he had a thing for them. Why else would his beloveds all have them?

“Like what you see, old man?” A rebellious curve on his mouth couldn’t decide if it wanted to be a sneer or a smirk. 

“I’ve always thought you were handsome.” He wrapped his tail around the taller man, not letting him pull away. A teasingly soft smile lifted his cheeks when he felt the man settle where he’d looked ready to dive into a fit again for a moment.

“Oh fuck off.” Adam huffed, the fight going out of him as Lucifer remained soft and yielding beneath him. What the fuck man?! He just felt tired all of a sudden, put out by the lack of fight from the guy he’d dreamt about pummeling for millennia. He sighed and shifted their positions, pulling the smaller man off the palette so he could lay down on it himself. And pulled Lucifer back onto his lap, much to the confusion and delight of the fallen angel.

“I thought you wanted me to fuck off?” Lucifer grinned, not quite sure what mood the other man was in but happy nonetheless to have this moment with him. The aches on his body faded more and more as his attention was solely on the man between his legs. He wouldn’t admit how many times he’d thought of this in the thousands of years since the garden.

“…come here.” The mischievous grin on the devil’s face was closer to the same taunting asshole expression he was used to. It was also closer to a time when the Angel had indulged him in breaking some small rules where God wasn’t watching. Days spent learning about the creations, pulling pranks and discovering new wonders.

It was like he could taste those days again when he pulled the blonde down for another kiss, this one softer but just as demanding as before. Through the dirt and blood, he could taste the sweetness, the temptation, the sin and it burned.

“Hnngh.” He bit Lucifer’s lip, reopening the wound, and the smaller man ground, hips pitching forward.

“So you like pain?”

“You learn a few things over the years.” With a smirk, his voice came out huskier than intended, the surreal yet pleasant sting of Adam’s bite sending sparks to his brain. Beneath him, Lucifer could feel an answering hardness, tenting the robes the man wore as a light dusting of pink colored Adam’s cheeks. It was cute. “Want me to show you?”

“Let’s get one thing straight here, I’m fucking you, you got it?” 

“I’m pretty sure that’s not a very straight thing to do but sure, you can take me for a ride.”

[ducks-and-stuff]

Wings

Trigger warning for blood

Grian no last name provided opens the door to the sheriff’s bedroom at 8:25pm with a slack jaw and something unreadable darting around his eyes.

He’s not supposed to be there- obviously, because no one invited him and there’s no big teasing Jimmy get together but the Hermits are visiting and he opens the door and-

Jimmy Solidarity is stood in the middle of the room, mid-anxious pace, with two ugly feathered things that should definitely not be there according to the established lore protruding from his back.

Grian’s hand is still wrapped around the brass doorknob.

The window is still open.

Grian does not have mixed feelings about the snow.

“Jimmy you’ve-“

He begins because someone has to and, finally- finally looks up to meet his eyes

“Got wings”

“No”

Jimmy says on instinct, and because that is most obviously a lie even for his standards,

“Maybe”

Grian inches forward rather than responding. Softly padding across the floor while gently flapping his own multicolored apendeges in intrigue and Jimmy backs away.

It’s understandable, he reasons, because Grian is being weird and nice and a multitude of other out of place things that they should chuck in the garbage along with the bandages. It’s understandable, except Grian pauses and trills softly, something Jimmy recognizes it as something along the lines of ‘you are totally cool and alright and safe with me my dude’ and Jimmy doesn’t say anything back because he isn’t and doesn’t speak bird.

He doesn’t back away this time either, when he gets closer, when he runs his fingers along the not-feathers completely transfixed and mumbles,

“They’re beautiful”

Which is only a little weird because Grian is usually known for his good taste when it comes to things like builds and details and color pallets. “oh Jimmy these are beautiful!”

and Jimmy doesn’t say much, because he doesn’t know which exactly of the million of things he should say in response to that:

‘They might be evil’

Is to confusing

‘stop touching them’

Is not the type of thing best friends say to each other.

‘they aren’t wings idiot- I know that they have feathers and all but- don’t look at me like that I don’t- I don’t know what they are, and it scares me, and I think they might’ve been a gift or a curse or something in-between but you weren’t around to ask and sometimes when you look at me like that it scares me’

Is maybe a little bit too honest, so Jimmy doesn’t say anything, and Grian asks about a washcloth.

I- what?”

He responds, Grian slowly pushes him down onto the mattress in the middle of his room. The mattress is connected to a bed by the way and everything it’s just-

“a towel”

Grian repeats, studying him carefully, like he’s the one doing something wrong here instead of the guy who goes around breaking into other’s houses.

“you- the blood Timmy, and the pain you- you just grew wings.”

“What?”

The only sane person in a hundred meter radius repeats, and before he has the chance to explain that, ‘oh no don’t worry the blood he’s currently drenched in isn’t actually his’ Grian takes the time to incorrectly figure what has happened is that his best friend has gone into some sort of wing related shock.

“Hey Tim, Tim look at me, it’s going to be alright, okay? I know this might be a lot right now but trust me, we’re gonna get you all taken care of, want me to call Joel or someone for you?”

Except Joel would laugh because he doesn’t know Martyn’s stupid canary joke had been rooted in some sort of truth this entire time. So, ‘no’ would be the answer there, probably, because Jimmy is the guy who smiles and can take a joke and deals with his very concerning problems all alone.

“I’m going to call Joel”

Grian decides after he is given no answer which is a fair thing to do, even if it really doesn’t feel like it.

“I’m going to call Joel, and then we’re going to get you a towel okay? Just- sit tight, alright, I don’t- you- you just grew wings Jimmy!”

and it’s all a bit frantic when he first says it, except then he pauses, and smiles, and repeats:

“you grew wings!”

Like this is something they’re all excited about. Like Jimmy hadn’t been twenty and almost gone and completely and entirely alone when it happened, and the window isn’t open, and Joel isn’t coming over to laugh at him.

Grian never notices the binding in the garbage. Jimmy doesn’t point it out.

Nobody is supposed to have mixed feelings about the snow.

Hiii, so this is like, an au of an au I guess? Like everything I’ve written so far on this site is snippets of the whole Jimmy and the Importance of Saying Goodbye story (I don’t know how to put things into like a section based on hashtags) and the backstory Jimmy slides to is definitely part of what happened but I don’t suppose this version of the present would be possible in that universe. I don’t know, Tumblr is a weird place. Also Joel would not laugh actually he would totally immediately panic and try to help.

[jxpit3rr]

doing cc!benchtrio’s makeup

••

Notes; gender neutral pronouns(not even sure they’re mentioned tbh)

I couldn’t hardly think of anything for ranboo so I’m sORRY

*

••

Tommy

Confused™️

Pretended to be offended

‘what am I not good looking enough normally?!’

Let’s you do it but isn’t happy ab it(let’s you know how he feels)

Very dramatic

“That fuckin’ hurts y/n!!”

“I can’t feel my eyes”

Hates the beauty blender

“It’s bruising me my face is gonna be purple!”

“…Tommy I’ve barley touched you-”

Very impatient

Tried to eat the base???

And the lipgloss??!

Kept crinkling his face because of the ‘pain’

Tommy sitting still?? Never heard of her

Midway through accepts his fate

Prolly asks for some crazy/vibrant eye makeup

Figures If he has to have it done, it’ll at least be eye-catching

Still grumbles under his breath tho

Tries to bite your chin or nose when you lean in

“Have you brushed your teeth this morning?”

“Wha-”

Doing his makeup is a process honestly

You’re worn out by the time your done

Kinda likes the look but won’t outright admit it

Makes jokes ab liking it

Might let you try it again(if he gets something out of the deal)

Tubbo

Kinda confused, kinda interested

Watches you set everything out

Inspects and comments on all the products

“Con-tU-Or”

“It’s contour, Tubbo”

“oH-”

Feels all the brushes to see how soft they are

Desperately tries to sit still for you but just can’t

Asks for pastels or bright colors

Prolly wouldn’t mind (a small amount of) glitter

Feels very relaxed

Prolly leaned into your hand when you hold his cheek to keep his face steady

Laughed the first time the eyeshadow brush touch him

“I’m sorry it tickled!”

Sniffed all of the lip glosses/chapsticks

Lowkey panicked when the gloss got on his nose

Booped your nose with his nose when you leaned in once

Don’t leave him alone with your pallets, he’ll (try to) swatch all of them

You left him alone with em? Congrats you now have a tubbo fingerprint in every color!

“This comes off of clothes right?”

Giggled when you blushed his nose

Actually kinda vibes with it

“If we do this again can you do like a bee theme or something?”

You put a butterfly clip in his hair and called him pretty

Turns out you didn’t need to put blush on him, just compliment him and boom! Natural blush!

Ranboo

Somewhat interested

Has no idea what anything is or what’s going on but will nod and smile when you explain

Asks a lot of questions

You don’t use that much base because he wears a mask

Prolly asks for some kind of crazy ass eyeliner

Lord help you to accomplish this task

His hair kept getting in the way

Half way thru gets pretty quiet and let’s you work

Mostly because his head is turned awkwardly so you can do the eyeliner

“I think my neck has been broken”

Thinks it’s pretty cool tbh

When your done he wants to do yours

He tries and its.. well it’s a line-

Likes the blush and highlighter

Correction, amazed by the highlighter

“Look at it! It goes pow when I turn-“

Decided to stream and shows off the eyeliner

Will prolly ask to do it again sometime

Until he tries to take it off, then it’s his worst nightmare

You will have to help

[ragingbookdragon]

All The World's A Stage, But The Soul Is The Real Show

A Night Culture AU One-shot

Word Count: 1.1K Warnings: Explicit Language

Author's Note: @bunnvoid and I are starting our endless cycle of fic/fanart again. I had to do it to 'em after they gave me TWO Vamp!Hal's yesterday. Based on this Wraith!Jason that I felt like making somewhat cheery because the Angst Queen should be nice sometimes. Enjoy! -Thorne

Edit: FUCK I FORGOT A TITLE AND TO ALSO ANNOUNCE THIS IS MY 7K POST

**********************************************************************

It wasn’t unusual to find Damian with a paintbrush in his hands. After coming back from the dead, the family often found him staring out the various stained-glass windows of the manor, dragging an expensive brush across the canvas, painting the deepest lines of what his soul cried out to be shown. The agony, the remembrance, the pain.

Most of his paintings were dark. Elegant and tortured lines of black, gray, and blue, horrific recounts of the worst memories in his life.

Few of his paintings were light. The crimson sun peeking across the still darkened landscape, a field of wildflowers as colorful as the eye could see.

Sometimes though, he would paint his family.

Jason stalked past the room only to back up a few feet and stop in the doorway, eyes narrowing as he watched the young teen shift left to right and right to left, evergreen eyes narrowed in scrutiny as he examined his handiwork. “Whatcha doin’, kid?”

“Painting,” Damian merely responded, holding up the brush in one hand, a pallet in the other.

“No shit,” Jason griped, figuring it safe enough to step inside the boy’s dark room. It wasn’t uncommon for Damian to paint by the moonlight. He found it soothing to his disruptive soul. “What’re you painting?”

“See yourself.”

“It’s see for yourself,” he said as he shifted, eyes narrowed at one point, widening the next as he realized Damian was painting him. “Is that—”

“You? In your wraith form? Yes.” Damian tipped his chin up. “Walk to the right and gaze at it.”

Jason followed his command, jaw going slack as the features began to shift before his very eyes, the tones began to change from light and dark hues of blue and gray to an almost eerie crimson color; Jason could see the way the flesh began to melt away like it did in when he would transform, the outline of his jawbone and teeth emerging from his cheek.

“Go all the way.”

He did, going to a standstill at the emergence of his full form, scarlet skull and protruding, pointed canines, with glowing sea green eyes. Jason couldn’t believe what he was witnessing. “How on earth—”

Damian pulled him back over the beginning of the portrait, where the blue tones still resided, the only semblance of a wraith coming from Jason’s left eye, like a whisper of smoke. “Soul canvas.”

Jason’s eyes shot wide, gaping down at his brother. “How the hell did you get your hands on a soul canvas? Let alone using it, these things are damn near impossible to come by.”

“You think I’m that little resourceful?”

“I mean you either found one or you took the ones Bruce has stored away, in which case I’d run, because those are family portrait canvases only.”

Damian sneered. “Please, I didn’t take anything.” He drew the paintbrush up the side of Jason’s cheek on the canvas, refining the tint of orange at his cheekbone. “I purchased it in town the other day.”

“You know Bruce doesn’t like it when we go into town during daylight. Our glamours only work best at night.”

“I’m well aware of how our magic works,” Damian retorted matter of factly. “I didn’t say I went during daylight. I merely said the other day. Day also encompasses night.” He turned to Jason, a dark brow cocked as he said, “I went during the night when we were on patrol.”

Jason’s brows furrowed. “You were with us the entire night. How’d you manage to get a soul canvas back?” he shook his head. “Wait, back up, where did you get this from? No store in the city carries magic this powerful.” He gave Damian a stare. “You didn’t summon a demonic merchant, did you?”

“Yes,” Damian mocked. “As if I’d be as stupid as Timothy and summon something beyond my capability.” He rolled his eyes. “There’s a demon merchant who has a shop set up in the back alleys of the dark quarters. I went there.”

“Alone?”

“Titus was with me.”

As if beckoned by the call of his master, the hell-hound appeared in the doorway, pointed ears raised, poised and ready to hunt…or kill on his master’s command.

Jason blinked. “Riiiiight.” He looked back at the canvas, suddenly uncomfortable with how clear he looked in his own eyes.

“You dislike it?” Damian asked in that tone that told Jason he was mentally going to pick apart any answer he was given.

He shifted on his feet, a telltale sign of his discomfort. “No,” he admitted. “The work is phenomenal. Like it usually is.”

His brother gazed at him a long moment before his face split in a knowingness. “Ah,” he smiled, no, smirked. “That’s it then.”

“What?”

“Nothing,” Damian responded, going back to the canvas.

Jason’s face pinched. “Don’t do that shit. What?”

His brother snickered. “You like that to the world you are inscrutable, but to those of us who have seen Death’s gates, you are scrutable.” Damian’s hand glowed as he set the brush on the palette and waved it across the canvas. Each shift made Jason quietly unsettled. “Your fathomless soul is a depth we have all witnessed, brother,” Damian murmured. “You are measured by our dives.”

He looked down at Damian, expression a subtle suspicion, and said, “And what of your own soul, Damian?”

His brother met his gaze. “You know the restlessness of mine better than most,” he replied. “For what ties brotherhood further than love?”

Jason glanced back at the canvas, eyes narrowed as the scarlet skull appeared again. “Death.”

“Indeed,” Damian agreed, setting the palette and brush aside before clasping his hands behind his back, the very picture of haughty elegance. “Come,” he commanded. “We must allow the painting to seal in the light of the full moon.”

“I know how soul canvases work,” Jason griped. “And who are you giving orders? You’re like two feet tall.”

“I am perfectly normal for my age and weight,” he retorted, exiting the room. “And I am the Son of—”

Jason grabbed the door-handle as he left and paused, turning to look back at the canvas, now facing the window. Ivory moonlight filtered through the glass panes, and he watched as the dimensions shifted, showing each portion of the portrait as they sealed.

As it came over the last dimension, the scarlet skull seemed to shift in the reflection, glowing green eyes catching his, and then, it winked, sealing back across the canvas. He turned away, expression drawn with an unsettled perturbation as his soul restlessly rattled its confines.

[forsakenbysinnoh]

I'd explain but... jus...

....look. Me thinks guys in feminine clothing... be attractive sometimes....

and yess all of these are the same pose but SHHHHHH anatomy is hard

(More in depth discussion of each design below the cut)

- This was just one I wanted to try out, a poofy dress with a jacket over the top of it. The jewelry here is just the Wrath Symbol but with extra bits of metal to hold it together.

- I used Satan's jacket as a base for the minijacket here, though obviously he has his arms in both sleeves this time. The blue add a nice contrast in the color pallet.

- The ruffles on the dress were the hardest part to draw. This design took me the longest out of any of them. Half of it was spent trying to figure out those god damn ruffles.

- Kinda looks like he just finished interrogating some witnesses and is super smug about it.

- I ended up adding the corset after much frustration. It was needed as there needed to be something on the dress itself that stood out from the green.

- The lighting here ended up being weird but it's 3 am so I don't care. He ended up looking yellow in comparison with the other two.

- I was kinda going for an anime school girl look with this outfit? Something bookish that would show off his personality while also being.... kinda cliche lol.

- Black and green were obviously my color pallet here, with hints of gold.

- Ditched just about everything from his original design. And because I did that, I decided to give him glasses... because he look cute in them. This is a very self indulgent design.

- Honestly he kinda looks like a witch. Just a bit. just a lil bit.

- This is from Breath of the Wild. It's the Gerudo vai outfit, but altered slightly to fit Satan. The way the jewelry is shaped and the patterns on the cloth were inspired by the Wrath Symbol. which is why there's a lot of diamond/stars everywhere.

- Satan has hips. This isn't an argument.

- ...I know he looks like Link. I posted this on reddit but I swear I wasn't trying to draw Link.

- every single piece of jewelry on here brings me unending pain. luckily the copy, paste, flip keys have been burned into my brain. My hand was screaming at me by the time I was done with this.

[immortal-teacher]

Albert Einstein said "Everything is energy and that's all there is to it. Match the frequency of the reality you want and you cannot help but get that reality. It can be no other way. This is not philosophy. This is physics"

Most people don't realize that sounds, shapes, colors and words are all connected through various frequency vibrations. Play a chord and there is a corresponding geometrical shape that is in place, and a color associated with that frequency and vibration! Sacred Geometry, sound, chakras

I have figured out how to make anything reality and how the universe works after experimenting with a variety of affirmations and i will explain with knowledge from many teachers that I have figured out the details and proven myself with experiments, memories, scientific explanations and more.

So everything is Frequency and Vibration or nonphysical and physical, We are all co-creators who create frequencies that create and control the material and physical world. We operate and think on frequency, including belief systems are frequencies and that controls our vibration.

Vibration is our body and the frequencies that we operate and think on control the type of thoughts we can have, how we feel, how we interact with all life and everything around us including gaining new abilities, becoming immortal or anything it seems anything is possible once you say or listen to an affirmation, subliminal, mantra, frequency or believe something long enough

then it will come true eventually. The Mastermind Principle explains how opposing frequencies cannot exist in the same area. For example during hypnosis people have proven how if i say my finger is burning hot then it will burn your skin as i get closer and start to blister.

Somebody has put down all his weight on a knife on his neck then got hit full force with a sledgehammer on his back but it did not pierce his skin because his belief/frequency

that he operates on. The frequencies also cause hallucinations based on beliefs, for example i thought people i date would reply fast so when i first got a phone in 7th grade i would message people and past girlfriends and reply fast because i didn't have many chores to do and of course really wanted to talk to my now ex girlfriend so while waiting for a reply from her, i would get vibrations from my

phone just like i got a message but when i checked then i see no messages or notifications and this went on like a hundred times until 10th grade when i got a new girlfriend(ex girlfriend) that explained why it took so long to reply, which is because she does many chores for her family, she didn't have Brothers and sisters around her age to help out.

So i first started learning about how the universe works after 5 years of searching to cure my shyness, depression and slight anger issues, along the way i did some searching into empathic abilities, how to live forever and more through many teachers mostly on google and Youtube, nothing really worked until i found this

video by "YouAreCreators" Youtube channel called "The secrets of frequency and vibration" packed full of cool experiments including how the nine solfeggio frequencies cured 16 out of 16 terminally ill cancer patients

within 70 days which i hear is the worst kind of cancer. So i started both the nine solfeggio frequencies and i am affirmations both free on YouTube at the same time, after listening to them for 2 and a half weeks then i started

waking up with this extremely blissful feeling, super energized, feeling great, thinking faster and more clearly, form more complex thoughts, process information faster, i work at top speed all day like an adrenaline rush and

it seems i have infinite energy but i stopped listening temporarily thinking it would last forever but then the great feelings gradually went away after 72 hours.

Some of my experiments that helped me discover how the universe works include listening and or saying affirmations

like "i am connected to the source, i am a part of god, i am a piece of the creator, i am wise, i am walking brilliance, i am total understanding, i am infinite wisdom, i am genius, i am over joyed, i am educated, i am infinite, i am wise council, i am energetic, i am boundless, i am brilliant, I am Happy, i am Healthy, i am invincible, i am immortal, i am loving, i am caring, kind, strong" and many more

in other people's affirmations then they all came true and when i asked questions in my head then five different times i got answers it seemed i could have never thought of.

I have even tried subliminals for faster reflexes and think fast like a human computer then started catching everything that i bumped off the shelf when trying to work faster including 3 items i dropped at the same time so i lowered my body slightly and hugged them like i could

see them falling in slow motion.

Dr. Joe Dispenza says learning makes new connections in the brain, so the more that you can repeat what you have learned, the more you are installing the neurological hardware in the brain in preparation for the experience then

when you feel the experience and emotion then your teaching your body chemically what you have intellectually understood, then the body understands better than the mind after enough practice. He said our job

is to go from philosopher to initiate to master, from knowledge to experience to wisdom, from mind to body to soul, from thinking to doing to being, from learning it with your head to practicing it with your hands and knowing it by heart.

How you think and feel changes your state of being, (end of the quote) because you think the pill or surgery will heal you then it doesn't matter if it is a sugar pill or fake surgery, it will work, that is the famous placebo effect. I read that most people get results between 21 to 85 days of any daily affirmation, frequency, subliminal, mantra etc then after 3 months of daily practice then it will be permanent.

After saying i am immortal and i am invincible for about a month and a half then i turned around and accidentally fell what seemed to be the fastest fall ever at work because the floor was really slick then i felt no pain at all and didn't even get hurt and i kept track for a month after just

in case if i needed to report it.

After saying that i do not need food to survive, i do not need food to thrive about 50 times daily for 3 days then those 3 days i ate 50%-75% less food because i felt full and could not really eat much throughout the day including my work lunch time that i usually eat the whole time.

Mahatma Gandhi said "Your beliefs become your thoughts, your thoughts become your words, Your words become your actions, Your actions become your habits, Your habits become your values, Your values become your destiny."

I found that fear or doubt attracts what you fear or doubt because I found a new technique while playing pool that I can visualize a tunnel where the white ball will go and the next ball and make the shot everytime if I stay confident, aim

the goal ball first then the white ball with the tunnel but if I doubt I'll make it or fear I'll mess up or get bumped then I can't visualize the tunnel technique so I tried relying on another technique but then I fail.

After

listening to affirmations about world peace then it gave me new perceptions that helped me because i was running on the "be nice" frequency so then i was able to tell

people the right way to do things otherwise i could report them to the FDA for leaving refrigerated food out at room temperature for hours instead of 30 minutes. They would pull out pallets of food about 6 feet tall stacked to fit the most

food on each pallet then say only one person per pallet which took this one guy 3 hours and a half to stock the shelves so now those expiration dates are wrong.

I have tried mantras and subliminals to become more attractive then 6 people flirt with me in one day, everyone was

smiling at me and i got 4 phone numbers from female co-workers because the other 2 flirting was guys but I'm only attracted to females.

Also with Aaron Doughty's help, he refers to Hawkin's scale from "fear to enlightenment" often with examples and his experiences which really helped me out but he still

does not completely know what he is talking about as far as i know but i don't watch most of his videos. I had help from many teachers and i sometimes still look for more

knowledge to improve life for the greater good of all! First

time i heard the detox frequency that is known to eliminate electromagnetic radiation, Viruses, diseases, infections, toxins, bacteria, fungal etc "741 Hz" i heard just about an hour or two then sweat 3 nights in a row so much

during winter that i woke up once each night because the sweat i was soaked in got cold so i dried off and rolled over each night but with constant use i don't notice any sweat

really if i do it daily or weekly. Music tuned to 528Hz gives us more energy daily because it returns our DNA to its perfect form also 528Hz is the frequency at which life is created and when i listen daily then i keep benefits constantly all day.

Other

people's beliefs and our own beliefs and fears influence us subconsciously that influences thoughts, abilities and choices either positive or negative but we can learn what negative and or deconstructive frequencies we operate on by listening to our thoughts and words then reverse the negative and deconstructive ones,

I figured this out because I heard weird beliefs that I didn't believe that effected me in a negative way but now I looped an affirmation video using desktop version for protection from anything negative on my cracked phone it charges slow but it works.

With a world of technology that can brainwash you on a silent frequency displayed on the patent technology website then We must brainwash ourselves for everything good and have a negative and deconstructive frequencies blocker like i listen to daily in my Daily playlist that i try to keep under 6 hours to listen 3 times daily for more effect i add more helpful videos after so i have

something else to listen to while sleeping. We can create new empowering, optimistic, hopeful, loving, gratefulness, forgiving life for all. Always think what is the opposite of the negative, remember to stay and think positive, constructive and always work with science to figure

out what is for the greater good of all and if you ever have questions google or youtube can't answer then ask me, I'd love to help and I've also gained benefits

from meditation, mantras, subliminals, mindful breathing, Orgone Pendant necklace from "wish .com" i believe that the intentions i set in my gemstones to help me

bring world peace, love and happiness to all helped because it does seem easier to teach and twice now after meeting people who told me i was wrong because they

chose one of the 2000 religions which are belief systems from other humans both times christian but my gemstones start shocking my leg when they fill up to much of the negative energy and shock my hand if i touch them, stronger than static shock, like those electric shock pens.

Sungazing the safe way reduces needed food intake gradually to zero by connecting to earth's electromagnetic field I'm at 8 minutes but on your First day the sun should be near touching the horizon and look at

the top of the sun then left, right, bottom and repeat for 10 seconds then only increase 10 seconds once daily until 44 minutes and 40 seconds is completed then the sungazing part is done to get energy just walk on earth slow,

relaxed and barefoot for 45 minutes a day for the average person for enough energy throughout the day but i read many different stories it seems you still can drink and

eat but in the Thomas Jefferson University study they kept track of this man 24/7 for 200 days they monitored all of his bodily functions and they said he didn't eat or drink anything but he did bath and they measured the bath

water and he was healthier than anyone 20 years younger than him and he was about 70 years old.

At another university the same guy was monitored for 411 days but they didn't even believe him about not needing food or drink so i think they said he did accept some buttermilk from them.

I heard one guy rose his frequency and vibration so high that he cured everyone at an insane asylum just by walking in, they told him he could not speak to them but just being near him everyone of them past all the tests to get out within a week.

People with multiple personality disorder sometimes will have cancer in one personality then scan them 2 minutes later in another personality then the cancer is gone. One woman who got cancer i think her name might be Doloris Cannon

but before she went in for her cancer treatment, she forgave everyone in her life then went to the doctor that said after scanning her again that her cancer is gone and that's the only thing she did different in her life and i personally have forgiven everyone for my health without actually telling them and it felt like 100 pounds lifted off my heart.

If you want to know more about the Science just ask or google ~Bruce Lipton~ is a cellular biologist that has proven all the science of beliefs, fears, thoughts and choices creating our reality.

According to RC Henry, a professor of physics and astronomy at Johns Hopkins University, in a 2005 essay: A fundamental conclusion of the new physics also acknowledges that the observer creates the reality. Pioneering physicist sir James Jeans wrote

"The stream of knowledge is heading toward a non-mechanical reality; the universe begins to look more like a great thought than like a great machine. Mind no longer appears to be an accidental intruder into the realm of matter,

we ought rather to hail it as the creator and governor of the realm of matter. Get over it and accept the inarguable conclusion. The universe is immaterial-mental and spiritual."

I had help discovering how the universe works from Bob proctor, Aaron Doughty, YouTube channels YouAreCreators and Universe inside you, Bruce Lipton, The Placebo effect, No Cebo Effect, Mandala effect, butterfly

effect, bystander effect, the documentary on Netflix called "The secret", visual and audio hallucinations, The MasterMind Principle, police report eye witnesses having different stories, experiments, etc and

It

seems the mandala effect is that whatever current frequencies controlling the majority also change history for example according to thousands of people the bible used to say that sampson's girl cut his hair but now with new

controlling frequencies it now says that she had a slave cut his hair to take his power away. This relates to a recent story i heard where the recent President Trump paid his lawyer take the blame for writing something on Trumps twitter account.

I found Dr. Royal Raymond Rife's frequency list and it is over 437 pages long and the first 8 or so is the University studies and then every health problem we can possibly have and what frequency or frequencies cure that problem.

The cancer section is 3 pages long. I seen AIDS on the list and every body part we have and or metabolism for example the frequency and or frequencies that help them normalize to perfect functionality. Also i do teach for world peace, immortality or whatever else to improve life for anyone because i care for everyone but affirmations, subliminals and frequencies takes some time of listening because

they have to push back opposing frequencies like being under a foot or more of water the deeper you go then the more pressure you feel so this is why certain affirmations, subliminals and frequencies seem to take longer

to come true but please trust me i have no reason to lie, someone said something like frequencies are like seeds that you plant they may not produce fruit right away but if you water that seed then eventually it will produce fruit and they were referring to saying the affirmation long enough to get results.

Before i got benefits from starting this journey i did not even think of the concept of how the universe works but i have really put a lot of thought into explaining anything and everything in the universe to get a better understanding of how all of it works.

I plan on changing my eye color to gold to prove it to for friends, family and anyone else because after teaching hundreds of people i have noticed most are cynical and deny anything based off a belief system they have but belief is only a guide to the truth as i see it now, this is why

i could not trust religion i knew it was not me to try believing in something that seemed so made up. So i searched over 5 years learning from many teachers, hypnosis, scientific explanations and more for a variety of questions i had about life constantly thinking of new questions and eventually started enjoying learning along the way then i learned about how the universe works, so i then

started experimenting with the law of attraction, subliminals, affirmations and frequencies to prove for myself if they have complete control or not and so far every

affirmation, subliminal, frequency etc i listen to enough gives me the results i wanted so now my focus is to teach and get this information out there because i want to help people and bring world peace i already sent it to the governor of nebraska and washington but they obviously didn't bring world peace yet so i will share my message

in this video instead of in comments section of many videos to make a difference in the world. I have already started listening and saying my own world peace affirmations and subliminals to help protect myself for when

I am ready to share the truth. I only teach what i have proven through experimenting with hundreds of frequencies, subliminals and affirmations. I am working on perfecting myself in everything that i do or say with great patience.

I was listening to different frequencies on 11 tabs on YouTube before they made Anthony Sommer add in the evil 440Hz in his music after 6 frequencies like stem cell production, collagen production, etc then I felt the different energy centers in me filling up then I would feel a

Slight discomfort that went away after switching to another frequency then after the 7th frequency I felt it all in more detail, it only creates the weird feeling because I was filling up

smaller chakras/energy centers within 20 minutes then it had to use energy to distribute energy to our energy centers nearby. The 9 solfeggio frequencies fill up our 9 biggest chakras so it gives more time to distribute energy so you won't feel the slight discomfort. Aaron doughty taught

me an affirmation "i am whole and complete," it means that i do not need anyone or anything to fulfill me or to complete me, i simply relax and focus on what i need to focus on then time flys by faster so i set alarms on my phone for certain things like when i need to get things done or when i get off work.

I read and heard many stories of how people can change hair texture and or eye colors to whatever they want with subliminals and affirmations but i simply have not wanted to change my body in those ways besides being invincible, immortal, healthy, wise and or anything else to improve the quality of my life.

At www.spooky2rife.com they have frequencies with proven results from 10 different researchers and they say it is the biggest frequency database in the world. 144.72hz woke me up when i was so tired i couldn't stay awake any longer then i got back to work at full speed, i was about to clock out of work 3 hours early but then found this frequency on that site next to energy and vitality.

I should inform you that the cells in our body can be addicted to anything and that Rockefeller studied how Hitler had control over people and found that fluoride in the water and toothpaste was one way because it calcified the pineal gland, closing up our perception and stifles

Creativity and with 440Hz set as the official standard of tuning for America and Europe. 440Hz is the frequency "Humans are bad and need punishment" so when anyone listen to almost any music then that frequency grows from

inside you like a bubble constantly growing until it meets an opposing frequency because the Mastermind Principle explains how opposing frequencies cannot exist in the same area, so opposing frequencies go to war

until one survives in whatever area, the bubbles probably follow us wherever we go if we created it. So this is why people get so angry because even if they do not listen themselves other people do listen enough that the frequency bubble could be all the way out to Jupiter or Pluto.

So I use Fluoride free toothpaste, aluminum free deodorant, purified drinking water, 24/7 affirmations and the nine Solfeggio Frequencies I also avoid Television or sometimes called "Tell Lie Vision" because it tells you lies. I also avoid listening to music other than the nine Solfeggio Frequencies.

So it is important to learn consciously how to counter balance this problem. The nine solfeggio frequencies, subliminals and affirmations help and also learning to be like water, for example as water flows through life down the river it does not stop before hitting a rock, it simply goes over and or around the rock, practice makes perfect also we need to change the standard of tuning for all music.

I heard once "if you think about nothing then you become nothing." I think that once the affirmation etc becomes permanent then it becomes like your identity so if being immortal is one of your affirmations then it would not matter

if you think about nothing since you are immortal. I've heard of a story I think it only took 4,000 people to meditate on world peace for it to come true all around the world during the meditation but affirmations can do the same!

Please use this knowledge for the greater good of all it helps if you write down affirmations and put it on something you do daily like taping it to the middle of the tv

so you read it daily before watching tv or on a doorknob etc please include "There is peace throughout all time and space now and peace will always be here and everywhere" Please share this message everywhere you can on all social media accounts and in person you can summarize this and or show them this message.

For the disbelievers, not trying to be rude because someone said this to me once I looked up the definition and you should to but they were right so my perspective changed.

You are cynical and you have no right to tell me what you think negatively without doing the work to prove me wrong. I put years into my experimenting with about a hundred affirmations and scientific explanations that's why I

can explain anything and everything in the universe. I'm authentic I can't only believe in anything I hear so I search for proof and then prove it true or not with a variety of ways.

I share the truth. I'm not insulting you but simply informing you of the behavior your displaying. Experience and proof always win rather than thoughts and beliefs.

The frequencies constantly fill up your energy centers but some

are good some are bad like an opera singer break glass with her voice. That energy is probably used for survival first then healing, then perfect health our body knows how

to use the energy then once you have healed up and healthy then the energy fills up faster because it takes less energy to maintain health than to become healthy and then you feel great all the time but you still got to keep listening to the frequencies all day everyday until your

full then I think you can listen to higher frequencies but I haven't got there yet like 10,000 Hz but frequencies research is still happening so make sure whatever you listen

to is beneficial to you and others around you because 10,000 hz hurt my back for months until I realized it was causing the pain probably because I needed to fill up on the nine solfeggio first before upgrading further. Beliefs can make anything reality so anything can be true but I know the highest truth and here I share with you.

I'm giving you the highest truth so now is the time to use this knowledge I offer tested and proven so everyone will be peaceful if I get enough of you to listen, think and or say

these affirmations, "Everyone and everything is immortal, There is peace throughout all time and space, everyone feels unconditional love for everyone and everything, everyone is happy" and more repeat all day everyday for faster

results please, We see life through the lens of our belief so I try to wake people up with a variety of experiments, related famous people quotes, scientific explanations, etc

I'm currently doing 2 more experiments for no sleep affirmations and no food for a month or longer, when I get hungry I simply think, "I don't need food to survive and thrive" about 5-10 times then I'm not hungry again for many

hours then repeat when hungry. If I feel discomfort then I think, "I feel great" about 5-10 times then it becomes true. Beliefs make anything reality, make anything true but belief is harder to control consciously but with affirmations you think or say exactly what you want a few times

then it becomes reality, some things take longer because people around you operate on opposing frequencies. If we have more people think or say the affirmations then the

Faster they come true or possibly might take a few people just to make certain affirmations come true like "everyone is immortal" this affirmation probably has the most people operating on an opposite frequency because even spiritual people believe they are meant to die.

Proof and experience always win rather than thoughts and beliefs. When I first heard about affirmations I didn't believe they would work, I ignored them until I found a video by YouAreCreators called "the secrets of frequency and

vibrations" talking about how the nine solfeggio frequencies cured the worst cancer within 70 days for 16 terminally ill cancer patients which sounded more scientific proven due to me remembering an opera singer breaking glass with her voice so I figured there could be good

and bad frequencies for people to and I was right. YouAreCreators put frequencies with affirmations so I decided I can try both at the same time thinking only frequencies would benefit me but they both gave me many

benefits, every affirmation came true after about 2 and a half weeks listening about 24/7 and I started waking up with

this extremely blissful feeling everyday, super happy, infinite energy, thinking faster, better memory, processing information faster and working like I was on an adrenaline rush all day everyday but before the adrenaline rush only last about 5 minutes a day.

Many experiments feeding rabbits equal amounts of fat makes them 60% fatter except the ones that were getting petted and loved they were healthy. Split a pile of rice in 2 talk negative to one pile then positive to the other overtime positive will look better but negative will be completely black. Or with plants growing, same thing.

How do drugs like marijuana affect my Aura and energies? And how can I recharge or reinvigorate my energies?

This Awareness indicates that this plant, that known as marijuana, is in fact, a teacher plant, that which is known as a plant that can have an effect on one who has ingested it. That this particular plant is seen to create an opening in one’s waking consciousness wherein higher perceptual awareness is activated. Thus, entities may become more psychically and spiritually aware.

That this plant can have the effect upon humans wherein it opens one’s inner consciousness to those higher vibrations and octaves of a divine nature or frequency, often causing one to enter into that cosmic level known as higher self-realization.

This Awareness indicates that entities would benefit greatly in developing a clear understanding of the essence and effects of certain plants, drugs and chemicals. That when the aura is in a weakened state, there is much potential for that which is known as possession or negative thought-form or astral attacks.

That when an entity is in a weakened state, that this is when those attacks mostly occur. Thus, when an entity is ingesting large amounts of that which is known as the teacher plant, that of marijuana, that this particular plant as being that which is least destructive to the entity’s aura.

Wherein, other drugs such as alcohol, may have a more destructive effect on one’s aura, often blasting holes in one’s auric layers, creating even greater weakness and vulnerability to those astral or energetic attacks. That in general, that of alcohol expresses more of a depressant effect whereas, that of marijuana produces that of a more euphoric or positive effect.

This Awareness indicates much of the perceptual effect depends upon each entity’s individual preferences, attitudes, beliefs and purposes in using such plants or drugs. That there are many methods of restoring and to reenergize one’s energies when one chooses to stop using such plants or drugs.

That there is seen the concept of fasting in order to remove such residual chemicals and energies from one’s bodily functions, wherein such herbs as comfrey or chamomile or peppermint are consumed, that this appears to be of a general effect in removing such residual effects. That also lemon juice appears as effective in removing such toxins and poisons.

Technically it's fasting without being hungry if you use Affirmations, I think " I don't need food to survive, I don't need food to thrive, I feel great" between 5-15 times then hunger pains go away, if I repeat more then it lasts longer that I don't need food. I have had no food for 7 days now and I have started noticing that all of my abilities are improving like hearing and feeling better etc.

Hence, the action of fasting is seen wherein one’s cellular structures begin to hunger for that residue, that drug, that plant’s chemical and in that hunger, attempts to open wider and wider in an effort to absorb energy.

Whereby, in that process of yearning and moving towards each other, the old residues remaining within the cells begin to move into the elimination process and out of the bodily functions, creating a cleansing effect. That this can take approximately a few weeks to a few months, depending upon each individual’s personal expressions and habits.

That also there is seen the ingesting of fresh water and the consumption of only proper foods of a healthy nature. That also exercise appears as a form of internal cleansing. That also walking in nature or by large bodies of water may have a beneficial effect upon the entity in need of such cleansing.

This Awareness indicates that another important method of toxin removal is seen as simply restricting one’s intake of this plant and refusing to ingest any amount of it. That this method appears as one of the best methods to removing this plant’s residual waste products from one’s body, this being seen to take an average of 3 weeks to 3 months or longer, depending upon each entity’s daily intake.

That some entities may only need a few weeks of cleansing, while others may need a longer period of time in order to attain that perfect state of health.

I've learned from the best then figured the highest truth out myself through experimenting with all knowledge this world had to offer I literally focused only on self improvement and figuring out all the details piecing all the

pieces together for an all inclusive explanation. Don't act like I couldn't figure out the highest truth just because you didn't discover or experiment like I have. Go big or go home that's my motto. I know 100% what I'm talking about

without a doubt because I was fully dedicated to figuring this out since I barely talk to anyone due to me being shy because my empathic abilities are stronger than most but if you think not then ask some questions I can answer any question with truth.

honestly people worship many things with over 2,000 religions your choice to believe in that caused your experiences from my experience current controlling frequencies change the past and it seems because I was determined to find the highest truth after experimenting then

I found it like that quantum physics picture you sent me explains how I'm right. I experiment to prove what I believe to be true to ensure I have the highest truth, have you read my full message at the top of my facebook page pinned to the top? Not the bio but the top post

We can't rely on anyone to give you all your knowledge or you limit everything about yourself. Use discernment carefully, none have the right to deny the highest truth without putting in the work to prove it true or not using the information from the one who knows the highest truth which is me.

There is ego, basically it's like selfish only cares for what it wants and thinks it's always right because technically it is right because beliefs create reality but knowing beliefs create reality can enlighten you but only if you know it as fact like me. Affirmations make anything reality. Wake up obviously your ego has taken over to be so unknowing about life yet think your truth is the highest truth

Does not matter if they all lie because I have used many methods to prove what I have figured out, have you not read my top pinned facebook post with all my experiments? I only refer to other people, quotes, scientific explanations, etc if it aligns with what I have proven that's why I have insight into things you have never heard of.

I'm a man, we all need to grow our hair out never cutting, trimming or waxing because after 3 years we get all enhanced abilities and they enhance more overtime.

I accidentally grew my hair to long and got all enhanced abilities that's how I figured it out, I was playing soccer every week then one day all my abilities improved double and

it was so cool but I was soaked in sweat had to keep drying my face to protect my eyes using my shirt but then it was soaked and I never ran out of energy it was so cool so that night I was like now I need to cut my hair because it traps heat make me sweaty but then I thought wait maybe

my hair gave me the abilities so I searched google "why should I grow out my hair" and found many experiments by the US army talking about how they were hiring Native American Indian trackers for their unique tracking skills and so the younger ones joined for money but forced to cut

their hair then the army said why did you lose your ability and they said "my dad says we get our power from our hair" so they had 10,000 takes like 10 different types of tests with their hair and they did great on everyone of them.

The army would try sneaking up on them while sleeping and the indians would wake up before danger got close and got away and they did hand to hand combat with the best of the army but due to their faster reaction speed they

beat the army every time and more tests but they got the 2 people with the highest scores to redo every test but one had to cut their hair so they did and after the haircut he scored some of the lowest scores of everyone who took the test and the guy who kept his hair kept his scores really high!

By teaching so many I continue to learn new ways to convince people I'm right except for the stubborn that think they know part or all of the highest truth, if think your

cup is full meaning you think you know the highest truth and don't make room to question your own beliefs then you have accepted a lie blindly.

We have many cups but the cup of knowledge must save room to question everything to find the highest truth

My mom said believe in whatever you want but I have gone to church for a while but I always knew to take religions as a guide yes learn from them but don't be to focused on one religion I've learned from Sevan Bomar who read every religion 3 times but I knew I had to look deeper from all teachers.

My boss once told me I had to stop teaching people while I work so I asked myself later why do I need to teach this anyway (trying to cope with that hard decision) then

right away a voice came in my head and said something like "you need to share the truth for world peace, that's why I created over 330 million species so we can hear all the different healing sounds but now we have separated from nature."

Currently I listen to world peace, immortality, no sleep affirmations in my playlist I made it way shorter to get results faster but I say, "I don't need sleep, water or food" but I still drink some water because I want to mainly focus on no food or sleep due to me sharing my message all day. Also think "I feel great and I am healthy"

It seems we need to focus on only a few affirmations at a time because if you listen to a hundred different affirmations then you only give each a little energy daily which might not be enough to make it true

The difference from being in higher and lower vibrations, some are like I get angry when blah blah but happy when blah so technically they don't operate at the same time so that's how they can both be inside you but in different parts

of the body. This is why we need Aaron Doughty's help to learn how to maintain higher vibrations. That's why I'm no longer angry in times I would get angry, feel peaceful, unconditional love like being able to really trust myself and

the universe it's all good and important because affirmations only work if you say the affirmation like a million times a day instead it's better to learn consciously how to stay on those really high vibrational states of being.

Scientist had a group of people hooked up to machines to measure emotions and had them watch a slide show of random pictures but some were babies or evil related and they found that the brain responded to each picture 8 seconds before they seen it. This shows how the higher self tries to prepare us for the future.

Your higher self basically lives a hundred years all instantly every moment using what knowledge you have at the time but due to this you will experience things that you will eventually understand because you learn about it later in life and believe it to be true later in life.

Bruce Lee said to watch words that is why its called spelling

Think, say and or listen to affirmations subliminals frequencies and mantras for, "I have 100,000 dollars" the more

often you repeat then the faster you get the money.

The energy of "I have 100,000 dollars" will expand outward from you every time you repeat "I have 100,000 dollars" literally mind controlling people to give you money I got 6 people trying to send me money now.

I heard of this experiment they volunteer for that gay people have sex with women but either stay gay or become bisexual so I think it proves gay people are meant to be in the world but I only am attracted to women. Also the only thing repeated twice in the bible is "Ye are gods"

Affirmations subliminals frequencies and or mantras work for everyone because they work with energy. If you change something physical with physical things then the problem will manifest in a different way, it works through subconscious fears.

I did some research though in the library of congress they have 15,000 legit research places send results of marijuana experimenting and they concluded that there are

no negative side effects of marijuana use they said if your pregnant though don't smoke because the babies lungs are still forming so I used to smoke but once I reached enlightenment I realized marijuana has a lower vibration

than enlightenment on David R Hawkins scale somewhere from fear many between til enlightenment so I decided to quit the little use I used to do completely and then after about a week then I started feeling great to rise up to the vibrational level that my knowledge is at.

Aaron Doughty on YouTube helped me reach enlightenment, every vibration has an ego difficult to get past without Aaron Doughty

I could listen to music any kind but I always didn't really like most of it and I later found out why, Hitler also used 440Hz to control people and now it is the official standard

of tuning for America and Europe that frequency basically is "Humans are bad and need punishment" this is why violence is in big cities because many people listen to that and get brainwashed without even knowing it

Just like they claim God has spoken us into existence, Affirmations, subliminals, frequencies and mantras make anything reality, for example, "I am happy" will make you happy once said enough times but if you say, "I want to be happy" then you will simply want to be happy. Basically you get what you say, think, believe, etc.

Remember some affirmations come true faster than others because of the Mastermind principle, for example people don't eat all day long but people do believe all day long that they will not live forever so that's why require no food affirmations will come true faster than I am immortal affirmations.

Some affirmations come true faster than others because people emit frequencies while they operate on them

Since we use energy even when the affirmations are true we should continue the affirmations to keep them true or we will use up all the energy then it is no longer true unless you continue the affirmations

when I say affirmations for example "I am Happy" then I create energy to be happy but the affirmation needs to be repeated enough times within a certain amount of time to continue accumulating enough energy to become true

The only bible verse repeated twice is "Ye Are Gods" we can change anything with Affirmations, subliminals mantras and the nine solfeggio frequencies, I have figured

out how to make anything reality and how the universe works after experimenting with hundreds of Affirmations, subliminals, the mantras and the nine solfeggio frequencies.

There is simply energy and energy can be used anyway we choose, I've used subliminals and mantras to become attractive to make people attracted to me that didn't even notice me for a year but that day everyone was smiling at me,

flirting with me, showing off their best achievements and giving me phone numbers, read my top pinned facebook post and all of my comments on it because I've put years of research and hundreds of experimenting into it even after figuring out how to make anything reality and how the universe works

Loop the video by clicking and holding on it while on the desktop version it will say loop click it then if on it then it shows check mark by the loop option then make it full screen then open up wifi settings to get the looped video to go to small screen so you can do other things on your device while you listen to the subliminals

[toongal1998]

This drawing took forever to complete, but I am pretty satisfied with how it turned out. The first version is one without shading and second is it the one with shading added. (The quality is better if you click on it.) I came up with the idea after rewatching the old Justice Ducks’s episode, as well as being imspired by DT17’s “Let’s get Dangerous!” special and listening to the classic Og teen Titans theme on repeat also sparked a lot of imagination. The only outfits I didn’t come up with are Lena’s, Boyd’s and Louie’s which already exist the show. I thought about each kids’s strengths and personalities when designing the other costumes as well what kind of powers/roles they would play and what kinda relationship they would have with their super mentors for this au.

• First up we have everyone’s favorite sassy magical teen, Lena. Her magical girl type outfit is what used for her hero costume. I tried my best to get the colors right so I hope it looks good. Lena’s role on the team is The Magical Brawler, with her using magical energy blasts, as well as allusions and brute force to defeat her opponents. She also doesn’t have a hero name like the others and just goes by Lena. (This is mostly because her magic protects her secret identity or something.) She and Quiverwing are the snarkiest towards the villains, especially if their evil plans are really stupid.

• She acts as a cool older sister figure to other kids on the team and is one of the most proactive on the team, with her answer to fighting a villain usually being “let’s beat them up” which can sometimes land her into trouble if she’s not careful. She’s very protective of Webby and Her younger (adopted) sister, Violet. So word to the wise evil doers, do not under any circumstances attack/harm either girl or you will be in a world of agonizing magical pain.

• Being oldest on the team as well as one of the most pessimistic/emotionally guarded at times, she tends to be a little more jaded to the whole hero worship thing the other kids have going towards The Justice Ducks. Her mentor/teacher is technically Morgana Macawber. In the beginning she was very distrustful towards the older magic user due to the woman’s past actions as a villain, as well as Lena’s own hang up’s with Magica. However, She eventually warms up to the sorceress after she sees how while having questionable morals at times, is still a good person who genuinely cares about her and Vi as not only her students/sidekicks, but her surrogate kids as well. (Morgana definitely joins the ‘these aren’t technically my kids, but I’m adopting them. You can’t stop me club.’)

• After that, their relationship starts to get better, but Lena still has her more rebellious impulses which causes her to be a bit more difficult when interacting with her mentor. She will argue with her about things like “Seriously! Why should it matter if my magic is still ‘developing’?! I can totally handle my Own magic, thank you very much! Now let’s stop gabbing and take down this creep before he overruns the whole city!” (Stuff like that.)

• Let’s move on to Webby or as she’s better known in the crime fighting world, Gummi Gal! So, it was a little difficult to figure out what kinda hero she would be, but after i decided to go with combining her spy training with her gummi juice powers, from “From the confidential files from agent 22” everything else just clicked. (Please note that I’m vaguely familiar with original gummi bears, I’m going off of ducktales 17 interpretation of it so if I get anything wrong, that’s why.)

• First let’s talk about the costume. I wanted to give her something that showed her personality as both a trained combat and espionage expert, as well as a excitable sweet munchkin who loves glitter and friendship bracelets. I based the colors off her regular pallet and added the cherry red parts to allude back to the gummi berry juice. The costume is made from super rubbery stretchy protective material either invented by S.H.U.S.H, prier or Team science to keep our super adorable rubber ball of death safe from villains when her gummi powers wear off, while also giving her a boost in battle while trying to beat up said baddies. Her red bow is the same material as the outfit, I gave her a pink mask, cause that’s her favorite color (also I wanted her to have a different mask color from Gosalyn and Huey.) and her utility belt is filled with other gadgets as well extra vials of juice in cases of emergencies. Not to mentioned she finally got her own Action Cane and still has her trusty grappling hook if things get too crazy.

• Webby’s role in the team is definitely combative close ranged fighter and The Heart of The Team. She’s already a beast in hand to hand combat, but when she drinks her gummi berry juice, she becomes a unstoppable springy force of power and agility, that can really give the villains a headache. She’s the most encouraging and affectionate on team always giving her fellow teammates hugs or high fives whenever she can. Her biggest weakness has to be her willingness to trust people at their word, being a little naive to harsh truths of the world cause she wants to see the good in others. She’s a badass, but an idealistic at her core and just wants to make the world a more happier place.

• Webby’s hero mentor is the Moon’s greatest warrior, Penumbra. Penny is at first confused by Small Della’s odd abilities, but adapts pretty quickly. They train a lot together and Penny teaches the young earther tricks she picked up from living on the moon where the gravity is very different from earth. This helps Webby get better at controlling where she wants to bounce when using her powers. Penny is pretty protective of all of the small Dellas and will be pretty aggressive towards those who try to harm them.

• Huey was easy I just made him updated version of his Gizmoduck costume with more of an emphasis of protection and practicality. I decided to give him a mask underneath his visor, because I believe he would definitely wear it as an extra precaution so villains don’t figure out his secret identity. (Even though it’s pretty obvious who these kids are, if you’re any paying attention.) I added a magnetic electro pulse glove blaster (sorry if the science doesn’t make much sense.) as well as magnetic boots, so he can better stay on Boyd’s back in battle and flight. (I was mostly inspired by Hiro from big hero 6 for that.)

• He uses the blaster to send magnetic frequency waves at his enemies. He can also grab things from a distance as a nod to his safety first mindset. His role on the team is occasionally the leader (there’s a bit of conflict with that issue.) and most importantly the thing he prides himself on, The Strategist. He’s great at analyzing situations and coming up with strategies, but can still over think things to his detriment. He clashes the most with Louie on the team as he feels his brother isn’t taking his role very seriously and Gosalyn as she not the best team player. He still looks up to Gizmoduck as his mentor, which drives him to prove himself as a competent leader and crime fighter in his hero’s eyes. Finally his hero name I think would either be Pulse or Gizmokid. Mostly I’m leaning on Pulse, cause I think it distinguishes him from Giz and let’s him make a name for himself as a hero in his own right, not just stuck in someone else’s shadow. (Though the bad guys will probably just call him, Gizmobrat to spite him.)

• (With Boyd I had trouble with getting his coloring just right so if it looks off, that’s why.) Boyd is the technically the youngest on the team in both appearance and mentality. He’s a sweet precious totally real boy that everyone instantly loves...well almost everyone. Louie, is at first a little heistent to be around him, but knows what happened at Doofus’s party wasn’t his fault so doesn’t hold it against him. He’s one of the easiest to trick out of the whole team which makes prime target for scheming villains to mess with. However, don’t underestimate this little powerhouse or you’ll regret it. He’s closest with Huey, with him being the first real friend the little tyke has ever known. (Dr. Gearloose is more of a parental figure then anything.) They can often be seen coming up with plans or just having fun learning stuff together. His hero mentor is Gizmoduck as well, but he also quickly warms up to Gandra. (who may or not be a anti hero in this au.)

• Gosalyn’s/Quiverwing’s costume was little harder to figure out. I kept going back and forth from a modern vs classic look, until I finally settled on a compromise that felt right. I do wish I made the cape more like Darkwing’s and drew a more modern looking bow, but other then that I think it came out pretty good. Her logo I’m especially proud of. Her role on the team is definitely the sharp shooter archer and weapons expert. I like to think she’s kinda like what if Batgirl was a archer. She likes to come up new weapons and gadgets to use on the bad guys. She’s the second oldest after Lena, making her also an older sister figure to the younger kids. Her mentor is Darkwing Duck, she loves being his crime fighting partner, but wishes she get more chances to really show her stuff and not be babied all the time by her guardian. This causes her to be one of the first kids to disobey the adult heroes when they say to stay out of something. Like that will stop her.

• Dewey was the hardest when designing what kinda hero he would be. At first, I thought of giving him a magical legendary sword that could change forms depending on what was needed, sorta as a way to mirror Dewey’s creativity and ever changing interests. However, I also felt he shouldn’t need to be ‘chosen’ by something to be a hero, so now the sword is actually something that he had to have create himself, but it also happens to be a magical shape-shifting weapon?.... (honestly if anyone has any better ideas, please help me, I totally except suggestions.)

• I gave him a costume similar to his God of Dance/Champ Popular personas with a blue Darkwing inspired cape. (Admit it, Dewey you actually love the show!) I added some protective chest armor, also gave him a angel wings and stars motif. His hero name if haven’t already guessed is Daring Dew. His role on the team is kinda the wild card/funny guy as well as a lancer to the more focused sometimes leader, Pulse. If I had to give an example of his role then probably something similar to beast boy from Og teen Titans or The flash from the justice league. He’s usually the first one to try and lighten the mood when something goes wrong, but he has his moments of Insecurites that causes him to doubt himself.

• He’s unique case as he doesn’t really have a official heroic mentor and just kinds bounces around from person to person depending on the day. Not that anyone dislikes the kid, but because he just finds them all so cool that he can’t pick one. (Basically, you know how your favorite avenger changes every week, it’s kinda like that.) He gets along best with Darkwing though and is kinda like his unofficial second sidekick. However, he does love spending time training with The Duck Avenger. He does seem familiar though, he just doesn’t know how. Hymmm. I wonder why.......

• Violet was also a tough one. Do I go with tech based weaponry, superpowers, space themed or magic? Nonetheless, I decided to combine her junior woodchuck survival skills and her magical quick study abilities to make her sorta of Magical Green lantern with an alchemist twist. I wanted to give her own way to do magic without having to use Lena’s powers or Magica’s emulet as a crutch. Her book on her belt is an ancient spell book filled with mystical runes and incantations that she uses to create magical contructs like weapons to battle her opponents. I gave her a teal green cloak, (mostly cause I was inspired by OG raven Teen Titans) a teal mask to hide her identity, light teal gloves and a rune turquoise stone that help channel her own magical abilities when she using her spell book.

• For her hero name I kinda like Light Saber (Disney technically owns Star Wars, so they could use the name.) or Guidelight (kinda like play on her junior woodchuck guide book.)

• Violet is the supernatural expert and living encyclopedia of the team. Something tells me she would do extensive research on all the justice Ducks’s known villains and would keep record of all of the info she gathered on the subjects. I have a headcanon that after “Let’s Get Dangerous” happened in this universe she would watch hours upon of the old darkwing Duck show while taking notes to better understand the full extent of the fearsome four’s backgrounds and abilities. Morgana, like Lena is also her hero mentor. They get along pretty well. She loves learning new spells from older sorceress who is more then happy to help the other with her knowledge on the subject.

• finally last, but never least, Louie! First off I drew him in his simple green hoodie with a dress shirt and tie. (Kid is pretty lazy when it comes to heroic theatrics.) His role on the team is The schemer and self proclaimed, Young Justice Ducks manager. Louie doesn’t really go by any alias and doesn’t wear a mask, cause in his mind there’s not much of point since no one really take them seriously anyways. They’re the kiddie sidekicks club in a lot of people’s eyes, so they don’t get much media attention compared to their mentors.

• If he’s not ‘training’ with his mentor, Storkules, or just hanging out with his teammates, then he’s scamming villains out of their stolen loot or finding new ways to try and get the Young Justice Ducks name out there. He probably takes the whole being a hero thing the least seriously out of everyone on the team, mostly because the adults are always their to save the day and take all the fire, so why not focus on building a solid following and use their obscurity to their advantage against the villains. ( To be honest I really couldn’t figure out what kinda hero he would be. I think maybe later on he could regain his godly gold touch powers, though much more limited this time with them being on a timer of or something. If anyone has any better ideas for him, please send them my way)

Anyways, thanks for reading. Again, if you have any suggestions, questions or ideas please feel free to share them. See ya!

[henshengs]

Hunger Games AU, part 3

Warning that this part gets a lot darker. Specific content warning for disassociation and violence. But hey, the third corner of our love triangle’s finally here!

part one

part two

His prep team is impressed with him, with his smooth skin and soft long hair and rounded nails. They wash and trim his hair and paint his face and exclaim over his beauty, and Meng Yao focuses on breathing, on breathing and drifting away from his body because control is everything but sometimes the only way to maintain a shred of it is to let go, to not be present. He smiles at them, his automatic smile, his mother’s smile, his servant’s smile, his whore’s smile, and they hook their fingers into his dimples and tell him he is so pretty, such an interesting change from Chifeng-zun.

He knew that this was coming. He reminds himself that he would sacrifice far more, to get what he wants. That he will in all likelihood have to sacrifice everything, before the end. He lies on a pallet and its softness and comfort leave him horrifically vulnerable. He lies there and he is not in Nightless City and he is not in Yunmeng. He is nowhere, he tells himself. He is no one.

They give him a gray robe to wear that is soft and warm, and he wraps himself in it, and he is left alone for an entire luxurious minute before his stylist enters. She is a sharp woman, professional, and she looks him up and down like a cattle broker examining a potential purchase.

“I wasn’t expecting a Nie competitor like you, but I’ve had a few hours to adjust,” she tells him frankly. “The girl will be echoing Chifeng-zun. Beast head pauldrons, powerful silhouette, platforms in her shoes. For you we’ll be going for a contrast. Feminine, delicate, but still dangerous. Seductive.”

It’s what he’s been expecting to hear- what he’s even been hoping to hear, because it’s something he can work with- but it still hits him with a wave of nausea and panic. He breathes through it. Nods. He should be establishing a rapport with her- cajoling her into revealing information about the political situation inside Qishan- but instead he’s useless, crippled by his fears.

“Well,” she says. “I already knew from the cameras that you could do wide-eyed. Can you give me something with a bit more spice?”

Meng Yao breathes out, and hears his heartbeat thud in his ears. Then he slides a sly smile onto his face. Tilts his head up slowly, looks sidelong through his lashes.

“Very good,” the stylist says approvingly.

They paint his face with white powders, and paint his lips with red rouge as dark as dried blood. They wrap him in tight robes of dark gray, with snakeskin panels, and they take out the braid Nie Huaisang plaited that morning and redo it coiled tighter against his topknot. When they show him a mirror he’s terrified he’ll see his mother’s face in it. To his relief he doesn’t. His mother always played the role of the refined noble lady, a pearl cast into the mud. She was never an alluringly dangerous seductress.

The most disturbing part is he almost likes it. The face in the mirror is a mask, but it’s a mask that won’t be expected to bow and scrape and meekly accept abuse. In that sense it’s a better mask than the one he wears in Qinghe.

Meng Yao also likes the expression on Nie Mingjue’s face when he barges into the room. It’s half rage and half desire, and the combination makes Meng Yao’s heart race. But then he remembers that this mask is not his creation, that it is not meant to serve him.

Too bad. He’ll take it and make it his own. That’s better than wanting to peel off his own skin.

“What are you doing with him,” Nie Mingjue growls.

The stylist, apparently a brave woman, glares at him. “Making him desirable,” she says. “It’s his best chance at winning. You say he’s not high in cultivation or physical aptitude.”

Meng Yao feels his cheeks burn, though it’s the honest truth.

“People will sponsor him because they want the pretty one to win,” the stylist says. “I guarantee it. And sponsors are his only chance in the arena.”

They aren’t. But Meng Yao isn’t going to let anyone know that until he has to.

“You never needed to do this to me,” Mingjue says angrily.

“I made everyone afraid of you,” the stylist says. “They liked that. People like being a little afraid of things that can’t really hurt them. But they like being aroused even more.”

“Nie-zongzhu,” Meng Yao says quickly. He reaches out and puts his hand lightly on Mingjue’s arm, looking up at him through his lashes. “I don’t mind.”

“You should,” Nie Mingjue says, snorting. “You shouldn’t let yourself get taken advantage of like this.”

She’s helping me, Meng Yao wants to shout, which is more than you’ve done so far. Instead he smiles, not the smile he will use tonight at the parade but the nervous smile he uses as punctuation.

“You trusted me with your look, last year, and you won,” the stylist says coaxingly. “Trust me now. You want him to survive this, don’t you?”

Nie Mingjue grunts. Meng Yao can see, on his face, the great weight that he is wrestling with. The reality it will break him to accept: that doing everything in his power to help Meng Yao win will mean leaving Zonghui to die. Of course this breaks him; he’s a man of honor, that’s what Meng Yao has always- what Meng Yao admires about him. But right now Meng Yao wants to scream at him, beg him to choose me, tell me you want me to win, tell me I should kill everyone if it brings me back to you.

Mingjue says nothing.

Zonghui looks good, when they’re both hustled into the swooping glass elevator together. Meng Yao allows himself a moment to be impressed. He and Zonghui are about the same height and almost the same shape, but the team has managed to make her look bulky, strong, intimidating, the muscles of the Qinghe beast where Meng Yao is the claws. The Red Blade Master wore shades of gray, as Meng Yao does now; Zonghui is dressed in black, and it gives her an extra edge, makes up a little bit for the killing aura she lacks. Her face is stony, cold as ice. Meng Yao practices his smile in the dark reflection of the elevator glass. Outside the night is just a blur of colors as the elevator slides down.

At the bottom of the pavilion, in a dark garage that stinks of oil and manure, the carriages wait. Meng Yao has not seen horses this close before; the Nies keep some, as one of their many traditions, but they’re purely ceremonial and Meng Yao’s duties never brought him close to the stables. The horses that will pull the Qinghe carriage are black as Zonghui’s leather and huge, monstrously powerful-looking beasts. They are beautiful. He has a frivolous and inappropriate momentary desire to get closer, to stroke their smooth skin and braided manes. He folds his hands across his stomach and looks around, instead, squinting into a hot draft blowing from somewhere. The lighting is low in the garage, and most of the illumination comes from the burning torches affixed to the carriages. Most of the other sects’ carriages have already exited the pavilion garage and joined the parade. In front of the Qinghe carriage, he can see the Jiang one, and something about it grabs at his attention. It’s hard to tell in the colorless dark world of the garage, but one silhouette is very pale and the other very dark, with a blood red streak of color. The figures are clinging to each other, and that makes him uncomfortable enough to turn away and look behind him.

And he feels his eyes widen and his jaw go slack, because after Qinghe comes Lan, he knew this, but he didn’t expect to see-

In the darkness it’s hard to make out details, but the Lan carriage looks as beautifully wrought as any other year. The figures being forced onto it, however, are unusual in the extreme. They’re both very tall; this is apparent even though one of them is clearly limping, moving with the stiff control of someone in intense pain. Despite the injury, both move with a sense of dignity and command that screams at Meng Yao to pay attention.

And his instinct is right, because behind him he hears a hoarse, “Xichen?!”

Meng Yao lunges for Nie Mingjue, but he’s brushed off like one would bat away a fly. The Wen disciples prodding the Lan competitors (prisoners, Meng Yao’s brain insists, as though they’re not all prisoners), are not so easily pushed aside. They have electroshock weapons. They have batons. Baxia has been chained in a locked box ever since Nie Mingjue exited the competition arena. His cultivation has been sealed since he entered Nightless City. He is armed only with his fists.

Meng Yao watches Mingjue go down. Stay down, he thinks, but he knows that Nie Mingjue won’t. He can’t see the faces of the Wen disciples but he can see their arms lifting to deliver another blow, another shock. Is it Nie Mingjue on the ground, spitting defiant blood, or is it his mother, cowering from another blow? Is it a Cultivation Competitor standing here in this dark garage, or a child frozen at the foot of the stairs?

Later, he doesn’t remember deciding to move. It simply happens. He is simply on the ground, Mingjue somewhere behind him, and pain is happening. There’s almost a weird relief to it. He is familiar with pain. He is practiced. He doesn’t struggle, doesn’t think, just lets it happen as his body seizes and something cracks.  

Someone is screaming. Someone is lifting him gently off the ground. He recognizes the hands holding him by the shoulders. “Nie-zongzhu,” he murmurs, eyes still screwed tightly closed against assault, but the attacks have stopped, though the pain has not.

“Meng Yao,” Nie Mingjue mutters, and it sounds so- so heartbroken, as though- as though he didn’t know- how could he not know? How could he- Meng Yao’s thoughts skip on a loop-

-the two Lan heirs are here, the two Lan heirs are competitors, and they are obviously not willing volunteers, and competitors have never been obviously injured before a competition before. The Wens don’t care any more and that means that things are starting and he is hundreds of miles away from Qinghe, away from Huaisang, with no way of finding out what might be happening there- Qinghe isn’t ready- he thought he was doing the right thing-

-if the Wen disciples have broken something serious inside him, staying alive in the arena is going to be problematic-

-the person screaming is his stylist, his brain finally tells him, she’s shouting something at the thugs about his face being worth a thousand of theirs-

-two years in Nie Mingjue’s bed and Nie Mingjue didn’t know that Meng Yao loved him-

-one of his rival competitors is Lan Xichen, and Nie Mingjue will never, ever tell Meng Yao that he wants him to win, and mean it.

[lovely-teeztaetae]

@strarrynighttone Heyyyy 💖💖First of all I want to say that I just love your writing 🥺💓it's just sooooo gooooooooood 💞and I wanted to ask if it's not to late to ask ship with Ateez pleaseeeee 👀🥺

Sooo I am 20 years old college student. I am 5'8 and have hourglass figure and have oval face. My hair is long dirty blond and eyes are green and pale skin type . I am INFP ✌🏻. Pansexual and proud. My zodiac is Leo 🌟.Oooo and I am hufflepuff 💛.Oh help me for describing myself bc I really bad at that, but let's gooo. Soooo I am really crazy from time to time. One moment I could be hyper active, happy other I am just depressed and anxious🙄. Oh I also really like caramel latte and most of the coffees and I like experiment making them... Welp I like cooking and I am decent at that. I also have resting poker face like my friends sometimes say that I scream bloody serial killer from that expression. I also give out good advices here and there, but never can't give advice to myself and follow it also I have really good sixth sense. I love my cat and dog sooooo much, but also love all animals. I really like to look out for make up at new looks out there. I love dancing 💃🏼 and I also like reading different kind of genres. When I meet new people I am really shy and reserved, because I don't really know that person and don't know what I can say and what I can't. With my friends and my family I am just crazy, playful, dirty minded, weird humour, dark jokes and all that jazz. I don't really intimate skin ship first, but if other person intimates it I will almost never turn it down . I love to cuddle and I think it's only times when I make first move. Also I sometimes can be whinny, and I cry easily when watching sad movies, but I don't really like crying in front others bc of my problems sooo I prefer to cry it out alone when listening to music. I am always ready to fight others if they insult or make people that are preciuos to me sad. But I don't really like to fight with people I love so I almost always comeback with apology and joke in hand (my mom just loves them). Most of the time I like wearing jeans and jumpers or blouses with jacket and sneakers or high-heeled boots and just on rare occasions I wear dresses and skirts, but I love fashion grungy style or vintage kind of styles. I love beaches and my dream is to live near one. I prefer night walks because I love to go star gazing.Most of the things I do almost always depends on my mood soooooo every time it's different things that I like to dooo like go out and put all night walk or just staying and reading and going to the club to dance. I think that's all I could get I think 😔

And again loveeeeee your blog ❤️❤️❤️💖💞💓 it's amazing and your are amazing hooooman💝

P. S sorry if there are any mistakes 🙏🏻🥺

It’s definitely not too late!

And with you, I see a lot of similarities with myself if I may :3

AND thank you so much for supporting me so much! It really does warm my heart to always get your notifications! :)

Okay, I now, with you, I see you as a very fun loving and kind person.

You’re creative, and can be an open book once you really get to know someone and are comfortable!

And sooooo, drumroll please ☺️

You gottttttttttt,,,,,,,,,

♡ Song Mingi ♡

WHAAAAAAA MINGI, your fellow LEO! (Which can be VERY sassy at times!)

So, I paired you with our lovely big baby because both of you seem to be very entertaining!

And your shy demeanour gave Mingi an easy interest in you!

He liked how different you were from him, and how when you all talked, you’d give back snarky replies.

From the first time you two met Mingi knew you were gonna be one HECK of a person, but little did he know what it would blossom into~

While you’re the sweet and caring person, Mingi is the straight forward one. Which makes you guys the perfect duo 🥺

You’re both cute and cuddly, and so people assume your guys relationship is super cuddly and sweet.

But when you guys are alone, it isn’t always necessarily like that, there’s much more than what meets the eye.~

♡ FIRE ♡

- song ; ‘Glamazon’ RuPaul -

- ( Reason behind song ) -

This song was chosen because I feel like it can be a representation of how Mingi sees Y/n sometimes! And it is a very over the top concept which I love~

~ Le fluffy ~

“Alright, what color next?” I asked Mingi while subconsciously wiping the makeup brush onto my already stained shirt.

“Hmm, what goes with green and black?” He asked looking into the small mirror.

“Nothing.” I simply stated with a small smile.

He studied the pallete closely before landing on a bright red color in the top corner.

“Oh, try this one!” He said excitedly.

I looked up at him with loving eyes and gave him a small smile before studying the color.

“We ll, it goes with your hair.~” I cooed, pulling up his hair and causing him to let out a small laugh.

Now just where to put it? I thought in my head, seeing as one eye was a neon green and the other a glittery black.

“You could do one of those cut creases.” He stated pointing towards the center of his eye.

“How do you know what that is and even I don’t?” I teased, putting some pigment onto the brush. I’d of course heard of it before, but never tried it for myself.

“I have no idea how I do that though hang on-“ I grabbed my phone but he quickly stopped me.

“No no! I can teach you and show you how to.”

“Alright.” I said with a cheeky smile, setting my phone right back down where it was.

~

“Ohh this one next!” I exclaimed pointing towards the glittery blue shade.

Mingi looked at me with small eyes and began to apply the color to my eyelid.

And now, here we were, with random colors now spread all throughout our eyelids and cheeks.

Mingi decided that what he would do is put makeup on my eye to teach me, and I’d just follow along and mimick what he did to me.

And now, we both looked a mess, with both of our shirts stained with colors we didn’t even remembering using, and streaks we didn’t even remember creating.

“I must say, you look very handsome.” I teased, cooing his now that now also had red on it.

“You too~.” He cooed back.

“But beautiful! Not handsome!” He exclaimed, widening his tiny eyes.

“Awe so so cute~.” My free eye twinkled at him as my other one was getting lightly patted on with the brush.

And his eyes twinkled right back at me with a wide smile.

“Soo Y/n, I lost my key again so I’m gonna-” San and Yeosang walked through the door with multiple snacks I’m hand and stopped upon seeing us on my living room floor in the mess of makeup.

“Wow.” San said with squinted eyes, and I started to feel bad. We were all supposed to meet at the movies later tonight, but Yeosang and San decided to come over to the house to finish a series Mingi and I had started a while ago, as we only had four episodes left in the season.

“Oh gosh, sorry we-“

“And you didn’t invite us?” He asked with a painful look.

“My eyes are literally huge, I’d be able to fit twice as much as Mingi.” Yeosang joked, setting the food down and having a seat next to us, followed by San’s equally as eager self.

Well, this ought to be fun.

- FIRE

I hope you enjoyed this ship! And again I am so sorry it took a while :(

If you would like me to fix or change anything with it just let me know! :)

[alexanderlightweight]

Tremors

(Part of the Michael Guerin Week 2019)

Prompt: Always Support the Bottom

Warnings: Caulfield mentions, Emotions, LIGHT Angst 

“This is why,” Kyle complained as he tried and failed to stabilize the pallet, “you always support the bottom.”

Next to him Michael snorted, not even bothering to hide the laugh that bubbled out of his throat.

“Alex isn’t here,” he said without actually meaning to and beside him, Kyle cursed and then Michael was throwing out his powers in order not to lose the equipment.

“I am going to kill you,” Kyle finally said and Michael honestly couldn’t tell if he was upset or amused.  

“Good luck with that,” was what he said instead and started pulling along the makeshift raft. 

“I don’t need luck,” Kyle muttered, “I’m going to tell Alex and let him deal with you.”  

That had Michael wincing.  He actually hadn’t spoke to Alex in a few weeks and the idea of this being their conversation starter, was not a pleasant one.  “What’s it going to take for you not to do that?” He asked as he finished lifting the equipment into the back of his truck.  

Kyle paused and surveyed both Michael, his truck and their haul before he smirked.  Michael’s insides twisted and he suddenly had a lot more empathy for why Max constantly lost control around the guy.

“More help like this,” Kyle said and patted the tailgate of Michae’s beloved truck, “I’m setting up an emergency medical lab at one of the bunkers we found.  It’ll take me half the time if you help.”

It only took him a moment of looking into serious eyes and then Michael sighed and nodded his agreement.  He’d rather not be agreeing to spending his free time with Valenti, but he knew the lab was for his, Isobel and Max’s convenience.  Also, if it kept Valenti’s mouth shut, all the better.

It took a few weeks, as Valenti assured him there was no rush.  Just quick hauls here and there and Michael settling in to help set up equipment.  The most surprising part of the whole endeavor was how particular Valenti was being.  Oh, he kept the place sterile, but he also added decorations that didn’t belong in anything resembling a makeshift lab or office.  

There were pictures of everything from the desert to beautiful prints of nebulas to, sunsets and flowers.  The medical equipment was stored neatly out of sight and the curtains that separated the examining table from the rest of the room were almost horrifically bright.  The final and most confusing aspect, was the fact that Valenti had gathered a variety of scrubs, all in different sizes and with everything from unicorns to palm trees to rockets.  

“I don’t really think this is mine or Isobel’s style,” he finally said mockingly after unpacking yet another bright, childish pattern.  “Liz might be able to get Max to wear it, but it will probably wash him out.”  

From his side, Valenti snorted and then muttered, “I would pay to never have to see him in those.”  

“Why all of this stuff anyway?”  He asked, “I thought we were doing a good enough job sneaking in and out of the hospital or using Max’s place?” 

From across the room, Valenti paused and then he sighed and slowly put down the plastic box of sterile gauze and wipes he’d been sorting.  “Have you talked to Alex recently?”

Stung, Michael shook his head, left hand clenching in a way it shouldn’t be able to as he reminded himself to breathe.  

“Figures,” Valenti muttered and then sighed, “look, after... after,” he waved his hand and didn’t extrapolate but Michael knew what he meant, “we came back with a lot of data.  There’s a lot of information to go through but we also don’t know how long it will take to go through it.  Or how to narrow it down without the risk of missing something.  This set up, we need it to be safe.”  When Michael just crossed his arms, Valenti sighed again, “Alex and I are working to help, Michael.  Which means if there are other survivors, we’re going to need somewhere safe we can take them.  We can’t take them to a hospital,” he continued, as if his words hadn’t caused Michael’s throat to dry up and his eyes to sting, “and Max’s place is far from inconspicuous.  This is the safest place but it’s not really hospitable.  The last thing they need is another cold and hostile environment.  The,” here Valenti waved his hand at the ridiculous amount of color, “stuff, it’s just to make it seem a little more welcoming and less like a prison.”

Michael swallowed back the words that he wouldn’t, couldn’t say just yet.  Nodded his head tilted his hat a little further over his eyes because he hadn’t thought of that.  Hadn’t been able to let himself hope, for any of this.

There was something like a resigned sigh, then Valenti moved and pressed a hand firmly against his shoulder, didn’t say anything and didn’t linger.  Just climbed up the ladder and left Michael to stare at his surroundings with a new understanding and hope.

He didn’t know how much time had passed, just that he spent it wandering around the bunker.  Really taking in the changes that Valenti had made, but this time with an eye of understanding rather than amusement.  It made him feel brittle and all the numb parts of him were tender.

There was the clunk of feet on the stairs, then movement at his back but he didn’t turn, just waited until hands gently soothed over his shoulders and he relaxed into the touch.

“Kyle called me,” Alex told him, voice quiet and soothing in a way that settled Michael’s bursting thoughts.  “Hey, it’s okay.  Michael, it’ll be okay.”  

It wasn’t until he was turning, backing Alex up against the nearest wall, arms surrounding him and fingers grasping and clutching at him in a desperate hug that Michael realized the high pitched noise wasn’t his ears ringing.  

It was him.  

Alex didn’t shush him, just tightened his embrace and let Michael bury his head against his neck.  His hat was knocked off and a hand immediately burrowed deep into his curls and a palm pressed tenderly against the back of his skull.  Michael ached with the shuddering force of an earthquake, every part of him hurting and quivering as he let himself break. 

Sometimes hope was the most painful feeling of all.

[starspatter]

WIP Challenge

Tagged by: @summertime-children

Tagging: @astrologista, @atsushishelteredinmoonlitjasmine, @benditlikegumby, @cryptoriawebb, @ibmiller, @iceperialprincess, and @otherwise-uncolonized

Challenge: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous.

I'll also do what deta did and post comments + short fragments.  (Be warned it'll be very long though, and most of these are actually Pokémon fics since I was a much more prolific writer when I was younger, and that was the fandom I wrote mainly for.)  I also won't be including "Heroes and Thieves" on here (or any DC/superhero stuff really since I’ve essentially “done” everything I had planned for now), as *technically* it is all already completed in draft form, and I'd like to keep things a surprise for whenever I do end up posting~

Hero and Seek

“Well, we’re all together now, so let’s have some fun, all right?  Don’t worry, it’s really simple.  One person is the ‘demon’, and the others have to hide from him.” “Eh?  A ‘demon’?  But that’s scary!” Three pairs of eyes turned up to her in fear.  Those eyes, which screamed and streamed the stark color of blood the first time she saw them – not just from tears, but from the ‘monster’ they believed dwelled deep within.  She thought for a moment, then removed her scarf. “How about this then?  Whoever’s the ‘hero’ has to find and rescue the others.  It’s a very important Blindfold Brigade mission!”

I’ll start with the one Kagepro fic I did attempt at least, which I described previously here, but is basically about Ayano + the Meka Trio playing “Hide and Seek” for the first time.  (I actually had it originally titled as that but just came up with this new version on the spot lol I’m so clever~)  For some reason I’ve always been hesitant about reading/writing Kagefic, but I actually got a fair bit farther in this than I thought, so perhaps I should try to finish it someday... Princes and Frogs

“K-Koizumi-senpai… Um… Please go out with me!” Itsuki stared down at the tiny underclassman, watching a rose mantle spread slowly over her cheeks as she gazed back with shy, but determined hope in her bespectacled eyes.  The older boy could make out his own handsome face reflected off the lens, a virtual image embellished by sparkling hearts and stars.  With dim satisfaction and relief, Itsuki ensured that his bright, patient smile betrayed no hint of the weary sigh that whispered behind it.

This is an intro excerpt of the first chapter I planned to write for an ItsuHaru fic from The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya, which I only ever posted the prologue for.  ItsuHaru was my first obsessive OTP, and I still think about returning to this story someday (especially since I have now proven to myself I *can* finish a full chapter fic if I put my mind to it), but it’s been so long I feel like I’d need to refresh my memory of the whole series/am still holding out hope for a Season 3 to motivate me again. *shot*

Fall to Pieces

As Itsuki stared at Yuki’s vacant visage, his resentment kept building.  His hands clenched, rigidly gripping the edge of the table.  Somehow, it just didn’t seem fair.  That she could so easily ignore the madness fate had dealt them, never reveal any signs of suffering or bitterness towards her situation, and yet always, always wear the same damn expression on her face. How could she possibly stand it? He can’t stand it. (any more)

An ItsuYuki one-shot, where Itsuki basically blows up at her from pent-up frustration over having to wear a mask all the time and his hidden feelings for Haruhi.  The two start to form a connection over their respective “unrequited loves”/understanding of each other’s pain, and one thing leads to another...  Like “Heroes and Thieves”, this is in fact technically “complete”, since I actually used the leftover steam from the former towards finishing at least one thing I started a long time ago - although I’m still not sure I’m totally satisfied with it/kinda want to wait to figure out what I’m doing with my other ItsuHaru fics before I publish it by itself.  (Incidentally the working title comes from an Avril Lavigne song lol.)

Little White Lies

“Perhaps the best thing for the princess would have been to fall in love.  But how a princess who had no gravity could fall into anything is a difficulty--perhaps the difficulty.” -George MacDonald, The Light Princess - Haruhi Suzumiya was walking on air. Itsuki could tell by the way she glided into the clubroom, sailing like a paper airplane – or a balloon with an inflated ego to match.

...Yeah that’s as far as I got with this.  This was meant to be a “White Day” story, which is Japan’s “answer holiday” to Valentine’s Day, where guys reciprocate by giving gifts to the girls who gave them chocolates.  I always wondered how the boys actually responded in-universe, and I imagine Itsuki secretly stressing out a lot about taking care to not upstage Kyon, but at the same time wanting to sincerely express his genuine appreciation and feelings towards Haruhi - whatever they may be.  In the end, he settles on a copy of “The Light Princess” by George MacDonald, which I highly recommend reading since it reminds me so much of this pair, and in general is such a fun and snappy “tongue-in-cheek” take on the fairytale genre. Sora in Wonderland

But wait- this one was a bit different from all its brothers and sisters.  For one thing, it was wearing a fancy waistcoat with pockets- and sleeves that were far too long for it.  As soon as it passed by her head, it stopped and slowly turned its head around to stare directly at her with its huge circular yellow eyes.  Sora stared vacantly back for a full five seconds before the information registered in her brain and she suddenly yelled, “Hey!”, and sat bolt upright.  The Heartless panicked upon hearing her voice and fled at top speed across the white sands, headed towards an opening in the rocks; Sora jumped down off her perch and immediately chased after it, no longer caring about the heat.  The Heartless hastily disappeared inside the cave, and Sora soon followed after, determined to catch the freaky little thing and ask it some questions, like what it was doing on the island at this time, and where on earth did it get a waistcoat.

OKAY SO I TOTALLY FORGOT THIS WAS A THING but apparently I tried to write a Kingdom Hearts parody of “Alice in Wonderland” lmao.  I’ve never actually played the games (aside from half of CoM), but it was probably inspired by a crossover art my friend drew? ^^; Also Sora is a girl in this bc that’s my headcanon and I’m sticking to it. XP *shot* Note: The following fics are all Pokémon-related so I’ll just be listing them in roughly chronological order (from most recent to ancient, although they’re all pretty old at this point). Stranger

The elder slowly rose to his feet, gazing at the boy, the champion, the stranger.  “In all this time, why didn’t you come back?  You could have seen for yourself how she was.” Lance wanted to yell something defiant, like a child.  But he wasn’t a child.  Children were forgiven for their mistakes.  And he didn’t want to be forgiven. The professor’s ancient hand came to rest on the boy’s shoulder.  “It’s the way this town works.  We don’t talk about things that happen outside our own world.  Maybe it was too long ago – too late for you to understand.” Lance didn’t say anything. “At least talk to Delia.  She’s been wanting to see you.” “Sorry.  It’s too late.” “You’re a bastard.” “I know.”

So this looks to be among the last things I’d written before taking a long break from fanfiction circa... 2007, jeeze.  Over 10 years, huh.  But, I think it speaks a certain amount of maturity that it’s the piece I liked most upon rediscovering.  It’s based on an idea I once had that Lance was (unknowingly) Gary Oak’s father, and he was friends/rivals with Ash’s father, who originally won the title of Champion but relinquished it so he could be with his “wife” and kid (or rather, then-pregnant teenage girlfriend).  *Something* happened though (I forget what I had in mind) and he ended up dying, leaving Lance bitter and depressed so he refused to return to Pallet Town because of too many painful memories.  (Though he *cough* “comforted” their other female childhood friend for one night of drunken grief before he left. ;()  What I like most about it honestly is the parallels bw Lance’s relationship with Ash’s dad and their sons’, and that amidst all the angst I enjoyed portraying the earnest energy and optimism of Ketchum(?) senior (”like father like son” after all).  I was definitely inspired by Mitsuki’s father in Full Moon wo Sagashite/Maes Hughes from Fullmetal Alchemist by making him a total “dork dad” who’d brag about his (illegitimate) family on national TV during the championship tournament lol.

Ihavenoidea

Either way, I get the feeling this really wasn’t what I had in mind when I made my decision to quit training.  I mean that in an intuitive sort of way.  Like, sometimes I feel as if I’m not meant to be here, like my life should have ended up differently someplace else.  Perhaps this is just one of those weird inconsistencies I told you about.  Perhaps not.  Even after all that’s happened to me recently, I still can’t really be sure about it.

...No seriously, I have no idea where I was going with this.  As far as I can tell it’s written from the POV of Gary Oak, whom I’ve always had a lot of... “complicated” feelings towards.  It probably has something to do with another concept I’ll discuss next, although for some reason it sounds like I was going for some sort of AU? *shrug* By contrast to the above, it reads like a whiny teenager complaining about his life - which makes me cringe but is probably an accurate portrayal of who I was at the time. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ This one was actually dated a little after the previous, so my best guess is it was some kind of vent rant where I would “give up” writing/creating and “childish” ideals for a while, as I was wont to do - but I still always come back to it somehow... RainbowMolly

Molly stepped out from the car and onto the dusty road, her heart beating wildly.  She could hardly believe she was actually here, of all places. The ride had been long and mind-numbing with anticipation, and now that they’d finally arrived at the destination, it all felt somewhat surreal to her. A small bear clambered out from the vehicle, joining her as she stopped to take in the rustic view that met her bright blue eyes.  She smiled and picked up her Teddiursa, cuddling its warm, fuzzy body close to her own. Her gaze traveled down the road which stretched in both directions, houses lining up against its margins. She followed it with her eyes towards a hill in the distance, on top of which sat what looked like a quaint little farmhouse with a windmill, turning in the summer breeze.  She breathed in the country air, catching whiff of a faint salt smell from an ocean in the distance. So this was Pallet Town.

...Why I didn’t actually name the file “Chasing Rainbows” - which was the title I had planned for this - I don’t know.  This dates back to an old idea I had where I believed Molly Hale from the third Pokémon movie was secretly the true “God” of the Pokémon world - in the sense that the entire universe was an unknowing fantasy of her own creation, similar to Haruhi Suzumiya (ok fine this was totally a crossover/rip-off of the same concept so sue me OTL).  In a place where children never seem to grow up and can go on grand fantastical adventures forever, Gary always struck me as an anomaly who willingly *chose* to forego such a life to pursue more “adult” interests by becoming a researcher.  So I saw him as filling the role of “Kyon” - the cynical narrator who was destined to ground “God” and bring her back down to earth, but at the same time be won over by her innocence and charm and learn to appreciate “kids’ stuff” again.  However, the Legendaries were actually aware of the power Molly holds, and so saw Gary as a threat to their very being - as by “waking” the dreamer and having her face reality meant erasing their kinds’ entire existence.  As the “apocalypse” nearly occurred in the third film, Mew and Celebi took on human disguises (in the form of May and Max respectively) to investigate Ash, who was able to calm Molly and “save” the world by “perpetuating” the delusion (and whom Molly totally has a crush on btw *shot*).  So it’s a bit of a love triangle lol, with Mew and Celebi (*cough* an alien and a time traveler, get it? *shot*) acting as mediators/interference.  (Although Mew might’ve secretly shipped Gary and Molly herself. ;O)

Betrayal

And these blades, these damned scythes that attached themselves to my arms when I was born, a curse upon me since birth, though it had not been apparent up until now.  They were covered with blood, the vital crimson liquid that flows through our bodies, now dripping down the steel surface in a webbed pattern, drops beginning to splatter the pure, emerald grass below.  The arm felt heavy and weak as I tried to lift it, as if it did not belong to me, but that was only a wishful thought.  I gazed calmly at it, inspecting the intricate designs the flow of the substance had created, as if it were an abstract piece of artwork. Tentatively, a pink tongue rolled out and caught a small droplet of it just before it fell from the sharp edge, just to convince myself that it was real.  The semi-sweet, metallic taste confirmed this.  I had indeed taken these men’s lives, just as I had taken hers.

So I remember this was written from the POV of a Scyther who seemingly went on a murderous rampage.  I only know that I wanted to give him an “Edward Scissorhands”-like story, since the idea of having such sharp objects attached to one’s limbs so that one could never directly “touch” another without being a danger is pretty tragic.  I suspect “her” was someone (a human?) he cared about but killed by accident, and after that he was only seen as a symbol of power/treated as a tool to incite fear before eventually rebelling against his “master”... Roses

“If you love someone, you should give them something that’s yours. That shows how much you care for them.” In the darkness, I pictured his smiling face, explaining to me as he wrapped a present for his girlfriend. His blue eyes were shining with a sort of spirit unfamiliar to me; I guessed, a feeling of love.

Another “dark” take on a Pokémon’s biology (I really liked writing explorations of those back then lol), this time of Roselia.  The idea was that a Roselia was so in love with her trainer that she would do anything for him - including allow him to cut off her arms so he could give them to his girlfriend.  I actually ended up turning it into a poem at one point:

Love is like a rose they say, And affection leads to grief they warned. For in the end love betrays, Its Beauty maimed by a poisoned thorn. You gave me pure water with a smile. Your cheerful face became my sun. I offered up my blood to you, And in return demanded none. Chop off my wrists, and tie them together. I’ll gladly bleed myself to death. In order to give you that which I hold most dear. My dear, my dear, Won’t you accept this bouquet? You take it, smiling warily. A blush creeps onto your face. And in those eyes I can see A garden of roses stretched out, Composing a wondrous place. Then you bound my hands in lace, And brought them to the girl next door. You presented them to her with grace. … My blood continued to pour.

Fanfic

She smiled at me, although something about her expression indicated something wasn't quite right.  I watched as she glanced over towards the west, her gaze lingering momentarily on the setting sun.  The glowing, orange sphere was slowly sinking behind the distant mountains, peaks cloaked in a pale, lavender haze illuminated by flickering beams of gold and scarlet cast across the horizon.

More accurately, I found this buried in a “catch-all” file where I had several (mostly finished) fics saved.  This was meant to be from the POV of an Eevee who had just evolved - supposedly into an Espeon due to happiness and bond with her trainer, which is what both wanted.  However, since it took place at sunset, she didn’t realize she had become an Umbreon instead, and her trainer ended up abandoning her for it. ;( It was a warm

Children’s shrieks and laughter echoed across the park as they flocked towards each other, and soon were chasing one another round the playground, weaving in and out between the swings as they partook in an innocent game of Tag.  One child was It; she was trying desperately to catch one of her friends so that they would take over the job instead.  Then it would be her turn to run away, for none of them wished to play the loathsome role of It.  Or was it because they feared being tainted by the person’s touch?  It must have been one of the two, for while she would struggle to reach them, catch hold of them, they would only flee, thoroughly enjoying the fact that they were vexing her.  Twice she nearly caught one.  Her fingertips were almost within reach of one of the other girls’ dresses, whose russet tresses were flowing wildly from the rush of movement and shining with golden highlights as the rays of the sun struck individual strands.  The target shrieked and shook her head, whisking her skirt free in time to escape capture, laughing with glee at the sight of the girl left behind, miserable and alone. 

Yeah I totally just went with the default beginning of the first sentence lol.  I guess this comes full circle with the first Kagepro fic I mentioned (although I’m not even sure I was aware back then that the Japanese version of the game literally called “It” a “demon”, which is even more fitting).  I believe this was part of a Pokémon series I was writing involving a creepy little girl and Mewtwo who would bring about the end of the world or something like that, but generally I guess I was just going for a “Catcher in the Rye” feel. *shrug* Golden Lights

The pale, rosy fingers of dawn were filtering in through the Granite Cave entrance, basking a small area near the opening in pinkish illumination.  Just out of reach of its expanse sat little Mika, huddled in the gloom of the shadows, watching the light creep steadily towards her as the glowing ball of fire rose slowly towards the East.  She knew about the Light that came from Outside.  There were plenty other small apertures broken into the cavern walls and ceiling that allowed some thin streams of gold brilliance to trickle through.  She had always done well to avoid them.  The brightness was like poison to her skin.  But they weren’t the Lights she’d had described to her by the old Crobat that always resided now deeper within the underground chambers, dozing now, most likely.  He wouldn’t awaken until night came round, and she did not wish to rouse him and perhaps disturb him from a pleasant dream.  She was very wise about things like that, being the young child that she was.  Still, she would have liked to hear a story to comfort her just then.

Last one I could find, about a Sableye who, like Icarus, literally “flew too close to the sun”.  In this interpretation I imagined that Sableye were creatures who could not stand sunlight at all, as it would cause their skin to burn.  But Mika (pronounced like “Mica”) always dreamed of going outside to see the “Light” anyway.  She was eventually tempted by Mew to leave the cavern under her angelic PROTECTion and step into the Light, who was acting as Ho-Oh’s messenger to “recruit” souls to “live eternal as an element of Ho-Oh’s Guarding Flame“, as the PROTECT faded and a “holy fire” began to spread.  I guess I was going for a Biblical/”Rapture”-esque reference.  (...Man I sure was obsessed with the endtimes as a kid. *shot*)

[royal-writer]

Memories 12- The Drow Part 5

Not really happy with this piece but I want to try getting through the final sections of Essie’s more important memories/encounters in the next couple months. I’ve been such a lazy procrastinator lately hufff

The heavy drops of rain had turned into a fine mist, coating everything in a fine dew. Water clung to her scales and beaded on her skin as Essätha shivered beneath her sopping wet cape. The flap of the hood had to be pushed up to prevent covering her eyes as she turned to look back, bouncing in her seat with legs dangling off the side of the carriage. The world didn’t smell refreshed, but sodden in mucky soil and drenched animals.

Each of the pair of bulls tugging the wagon along lumbered through the slop without much trouble. Their heads down, antlers swaying with the broad movement of their shoulders. The lanky looking farmer at the helm was hunched over with his hat collapsed against his ears and hanging limp. He sighed heavily, giving a flick of the reigns to urge the beasts on with his coarse-looking dark hands. Laying in the emptied cart just behind the man, his watchdog lifted their head at her staring, and cocked it curiously in her direction. Resisting the urge to reach up and scratch the damp, wiry gray coat of the shaggy beast was hard. His beard and mustache drooped from the rain, and he unfurled his large body to stretch; showing his teeth and tongue before curling back up in his spot.

“How much longer until we reach town?” Essätha dared to pipe up. Her bottom ached from sitting on the rickety ride so long. She looked forward to getting off, trying to stretch out her aches, and get something to eat.

“Just behind that bending treeline over yonder,” the man expressed loudly. He released the reigns to emphasis, gesturing off to the east where the road wound past a flank of trees on the right, and open fields on the left. She could just make out a few short structures as they exited the path lined with trees to stare into the distance.

A hot meal and a warm bed, that’s all she asked. That’s all she wanted.

Her eyes closed with a sigh, thinking of mister Tibiius’ shop and the hard bed upstairs. Given a different mattress, it would be suitable. Cozy even; with home-cooked meals and a supportive smile that wrinkled up the old man’s face and lit up his eerie scarlet eyes.

She brushed the images away of the small sitting room, the quaint kitchen, the tiny stairwell and crooked floorboards in the shop. Washing away the door in the corner that lead to the alley, and the additional stovetop where they’d made brews of tea to try. Some bitter, others sweet, just like their conversations.

It was no more home to her than Miamoorgyte had been. But the company made her wish it could have been.

They continued on the remainder of the road in silence. A pair of gleaming eyes watched inquisitively from the deeper undergrowth off to the right. The figure crouched low, and prowled the edges of the brush to vanish without a trace, unseen and unheard save for a twitch of the lazy canine’s ear.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

After a night at the inn, Essie wandered the town with the small handful of coin she had on hand. There was enough to cover a week’s worth of a cheap room at the lodge and meals; what she couldn’t catch herself out in the outskirts undetected. Not nearly enough to splurge in the small shops. She did manage to swipe a few sweets from the general store discretely. They tasted heavily of molasses. Not the best snatch.

There was nothing of significant here to pick up, otherwise. It seemed the kind of place easy to get lost in. Off the beaten road; not a traveler’s destination when there was a similar path further south that lead to a larger town as a better rest point. But even the most unsocial of creatures sometimes craved conversation. Even ones who isolated themselves due to their own precarious nature.

Catching a few vermin in and out of the town as replenishment (and loathing the way the creatures felt sliding down her throat like she was some kind of animal herself), the sun rose and dipped in the sky as she explored the buildings of the aging place she would call her residence for the next few days. Smelling of musk; stone covered in lichen and moss, plenty of tired faces and wary eyes. People were mostly polite, but kept to themselves.

Best of all, no one seemed off-put or seemed to suspect a single thing about her.

As the first uneventful day disappeared beneath a sky just beginning to break free of heavy clouds, Essätha returned to the tavern for a night’s rest. A few key phrases there, a purr of sultry words there, and she had found herself warm company for the night in one of the barmaidens; a full-figured woman who for all her shyness in public, was certainly no such thing in the sheets.

Her side of the bed was empty far before the sun rose the next day. Which was fine, the young lady likely had work the next day or hell, maybe someone to get home to. Essie didn’t care at all. She huddled herself up into a ball, trying to trap as much warmth as she could in her frigid lonely bones, and lulled herself back into a fidgety, lonesome slumber.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Money was running low. She had a sneaking suspicion that the barmaid might have taken some of her currency the second night’s stay in this quiet isolated town, but there was no proof. They could have easily vanished paying for her meals or in the sole drunken night she sat at the bar far too long, loathing her existence with a bottle of whiskey for company. A purse left unattended for even a sluggish blink in her mind-numbed state would have been ample opportunity for someone to steal from an unwitting crook like herself.

It was time to get moving, and hope to pick up some odd job along the way for a bit more cash. Clean a few stables, see if any shops wanted help stocking wares, whatever might help pay off for more travels and expenses. Even the most creaky old uncomfortable bed proved better than a dirty sleeping bag every night; not including foul weather.

Placing what few things she had removed from her old knapsack (another item to replace before it fell apart), Essätha left it in her room to scout the town, starting with the tavern owner.

“You wouldn’t happen to need a temporary hand around here, would you?” she hummed, propping an elbow up on the counter while peering over the pudgy old man.

He looked up, his eyes fractured in discoloration with cataracts. “What for?” they asked suspiciously. “Ya paid your weekly due. Unless yer plannin’ on stayin’ longer, but haven’t the money, and wantin’ to service yer stay?”

Smiling sweetly, she shook her head. “The opposite actually: I’m planning on leaving town soon. So a bit of ext-”

“I won’t be needin’ no extra hand, then,” he muttered fiercely. “Between payin’ the staff with low customer income, I can’t spare it. Sorry lassy, ya’ll have to look elsewhere.”

So she did. Trekking to one, and then the other town general store across the way, she came up with the fruitless same answer.

“My kids and I stock, miss. I won’t be needin’ the help. Good luck though!”

“Don’t need the extra hands. Never did. S’not personal, just don’t trust folks. Ya have a good day there, ma’am.”

Maybe she’d have to walk to the next village along the route and hope for better luck elsewhere. Determined not to give up immediately, Essie lurked along the small plots of farmer. A few raised hogs and hens, and she even managed across the man once more who drove her into town; the sole individual to own cows and steers close to town.

Their answers were resounding declines. Though the most pitying was the rancher who drove her into town,;he set her up with a basket filled with milk, eggs, tough jerky, and some sharp-smelling cheeses that made her mouth water. It was at least another week’s worth of rations; longer if she measured her portions and continued hunting down small game and rodents to fill in gaps of hunger.

Drifting through, she nibbled on the tough dried meat (which felt nearly inedible on, making her question how old it might be) heading back to the inn. Tonight and tomorrow night, and she would have to leave the straw-stuffed pallet. Essätha cringed to consider swiping a few coins from the townsfolk tomorrow. It seemed harder than ever to take with Tibiius words still ringing in her head; warning her it would catch up with her, telling her she could do better. It would probably be easy, but where she might gain, it might force another’s suffering. And how long could she outrun the wrath of someone wrongly scorned? Their money a heavy weight on her conscious as well as in her hand.

Perfectly on cue, a shadow moved from behind the saloon as she approached it. Pale eyes and a tick-infested raggedy mane of a wolf stepped around the bend, their gaze fixated upon her. The dead-end street otherwise, empty of all other occupants.

Essätha stiffened. She raised a hand as the animal moved closer, raising her voice in warning: “Back!”

The beast snarled, baring its teeth. As it stepped closer, it’s forepaws began to shift. The toes expanded; the fur retracted. It’s muzzle began to sink into its face and color of its fur began to shift from muted gray to white. Essie watched in stunned silence as it rose; hindquarters bending silently as it grew vertical.

Within moments, in place of where the intimidating canis lupus stood a woman in tattered traveler’s clothes and a torn cloak. Her hands; ashen grey skin freckled with specks of black, reached up to wrap a leather strap along the milky color of her thick hair that fell nearly to her rear.

They smirked. “Good to see you, Es-”

Uttering a choked hiss of ancient Draconic, Essätha blasted a bubbled sphere of acid at the Drow.

Backpedaling, the Dark Elf snarled in pain as the fizzling acid burned into her flesh and soaked her shirt. She placed a hand against her wet clothing, casing a series of Mending spells upon the rips and frayed areas where the Acid Splash had began to devour the material.

“That was entirely unnecessary.”

The Yuan-Ti woman stared, baffled and furious.

“You kidnapped me! You tried to kill me! It was completely necessary!”

“Don’t be so dramatic, Essätha, you’ve been in worse situations, have you not?” the Drow expressed, exasperated as they continued trying to fix their soiled disintegrating apparel.

She hesitated, squinting upon the figure of the woman. She was shorter in build, but otherwise about the same thinness as herself. Easy enough to take on. Wreathed in her hair was something she hadn’t seen before though: a crown made of leaves and twigs, her neck ringed with ivy plants. She looked more feral and wild than she had even back at that decaying old house. Not intimidating or lethal in appearances, but still mysterious.

“How would you know that?” Caution. Curiosity. She kept her hands ready, prepared for any unexpected attack the Drow might seize upon her.

They scoffed, rolling their lilac eyes. “Re-stealing an amulet of the house of Teken’rae? Please: that wasn’t your first time stealing something. No one’s that successfully sneaky on their first try.”

A grimace settled on her face. “What do you want?”

They expressed a toothy grin, dropping their hand from their shirt. It was now covered with light burns like their chest from touching the drying acid on their clothes. “To thank you.”

“Thank me?” Essie mumbled, uncertainty knitting her eyebrows close.

“Yes! Thanks to you incapacitating Jayfier, I’m now free of that wretched bastard,” they stated eagerly. “He was assigned to me you see; a real brute, not too smart but plenty cruel. With him gone now, I’m finally free to do as I see, and be myself again. No more fights, no more arguments, no more being strangled-”

“Why didn’t you just leave him before?” she blurted out, relaxing her shoulders a fraction. “Or throw him out?” The realization began to dawn on her. Slow at first; then all at once.

He was gone now. But she hadn’t disposed of him. She couldn’t. Looking down at him; helpless, unconscious. He was right there. A man who tried to murder her; who purred like syrupy honey that he wanted to watch her squirm and torture her before he was through, and she’d let him live. And if she hadn’t stolen his last breath, then…

This stranger had been okay with him, killing her. She’d taken part in her abduction.

She took the man’s life.

Before the Drow could reply, Essätha composed her stance once more. “I find it hard to believe you came here to just thank me,” she remarked with icy venom. “If you’re smart, you’ll leave now. We’ll never have to see each other again. Stop tracking me-”

“Ohh poor little ssa j’nesst,” the woman sang smugly. “You think you’re special? You think you matter? You think I or anyone else cares about your existence enough to trail you to the ends of the Earth? Oh poor creature, no.”

“I did follow you for more than a simple thank you, though,” they admitted. Their slender ears gave a twitch behind them for a moment as they paused. Before the Yuan-Ti woman could evaluate what she was listening for, they continued: “You see because of you, I’m out of work. I’ve nothing, now. I’ve had plenty of opportunities to dispatch of you alone these long roads, but in good faith and interest, I have not. Instead I thought to offer my aid, as I’m sure you’re well aware very unhappy people are interested in what becomes of you.”

“The people you work for?”

“Worked for, poppet. We’re no longer associated. But as the saying goes, the enemy of my enemy is my friend.”

Essätha gave a snort of disbelief. “You must think I’m a fool if I’d accept such an offer.”

“What other options do you have?” they offered a bit sharply, removing some of the ivy from their person to drop to the ground. As the plant hit the ground, a few yellow-ish green buds upon the plant erupted; sprouting flowers. With her eyes fixated on the plant as it began to entangle roots into the earth; something surreal for something that should be non-sentient, the gray woman went on, “I have knowledge on the people after you that you don’t. You have an advantage with me around. We could make an alliance, temporarily. They will lose interest after all. It’s just petty redemption right now. You stand in the way of nothing important.”

It’s magic, Essie realized, only half listening. It was an old, wild kind of magic rooted in nature. She hadn’t the studying or knowledge of what kind it was, or what it could manifest, but she knew the look of magic when she saw it. It spooled not around the Drow like it did her, but from the plant in a shimmering evergreen color around it. And after witnessing the woman’s unusual polymorphic shift, there was something she knew, or something in her blood, that could call to such ancient magic.

“Or a disadvantage,” the Yuan-Ti mumbled. “You could draw them right to me; on purpose or on accident. By moving together we’d become a more obvious target, if one were to believe your story. I’ll take my chances.”

Their thin lips grew thinner at her answer. The ivy, having stabilized in growth, seemed to have found itself a new home creeping up the corner of the tavern building. Turning her lilac eyes from it back to her, the Drow tisked unpleasantly.

“I see.” She stated stiffly. “Should you ever need me, I’m sure you’ll be able to find me.”

A dark snicker escaped Essie. “Why would I ever need anyone? And how would I even find someone I don’t know?”

The cryptic woman laughed. It wasn’t anymore appealing than the rest of her.

“Everyone needs someone, poppet,” they chimed. There was an eerie look of knowing in her expression that sank into the pit of Essätha’s stomach uncomfortably. She smirked before continuing: “It’s Miz’ri Abravylhell. The trees whisper my name, my pet. They will hear you, and I will come.”

Misery? What a name. It was as unsettling as the look the Drow pinned to her. Whatever subtle signals she’d given off or things they’d somehow found out about her through their spying, it left her troubled. There was no understanding in Miz’ri’s gaze; no gentleness, not even remorse or apathy. It was calculated and meant to alarm and disarm. And she felt that way. Uncomfortably bare, unaware of what else they might know or realized, or what she’d seen since following her all the way back from that village hidden amongst the wood.

She hadn’t needed anyone since leaving her birthplace. She was a grown woman. What connections she might need in companionship, she grew briefly, and cut fast. It was all she required to survive; to get what she wanted, to live. It was enough.

Intuition told her not to trust. It warned her this would not be the last time she saw of the woman covered with nature, her tongue coated in poison. She didn’t care much for the feeling.

Raising her chin, she jerked her head defiantly to the side. “I won’t be needing the summons. We’re done here.”

Miz’ri raised her thin fuzzy white eyebrows, smirking. “Are we ever really done, with people who leave an imprint on our lives?”

It was an unnerving question. Left hypothetical, the woman’s body began to shift once more. The woman seemed to mock her; her appendages disappearing as she grew smaller and smaller, with scales forming over her skin until it was gone completely. It took mere seconds for her to wild shift from a humanoid being, into a harmless garter snake. It was gone swiftly; even as Essätha stepped forward to examine her, the Druid Drow slithered into a crack beneath the inn and disappeared out of sight.

It would have been a lot easier to just kill her. It would have been a lot easier, if she’d never taken the damn coin pouch in the first place, and wound up with that crest. Or if she’d simply handed it off, and fled before finding out what it was and what it was tangled up in.

Sighing uncomfortably, Essie wrapped her arms self-consciously around herself in a short hug, before dropping them to her side and heading for the door, shoulders slumping.

She’d better start packing. Tonight would be the last night here, regardless of lost profit missing out on tomorrow night’s pre-paid stay.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

It was dark out. The sun hadn’t risen yet. The only people who seemed to be awake and beginning to move around were the farming houses she passed, where candlelight spilled out faintly from windows.

Essätha didn’t pause to stop and stare. She didn’t stop to beg for coin or work. She walked, her boots caked with dry dirt quiet on the roads stomped flat. The silent predators of night owls flew overhead virtually undetected. She could make out their hooting calls from time to time, and the sound of rustling in the brush.

Everything around her felt like a potential enemy. More than usual. She tensed, expecting the scurrying mouse that fled past her ahead on the trail or the eyes shining in the dark; their green meeting her crimson reflection, to launch at her. They did not. Nothing seemed malice; nothing seemed any more interested in her than any other wandering walk yet she couldn’t shake the sight of the woman changing not once, but twice before her.

She could be literally anywhere. Everywhere. And she wouldn’t know it, until it was too late.

What did Miz’ri want?

Twigs cracked underfoot. The lane began to thin of housing the further out of town she went. Along the route, a man already outside of his house was busy replacing broken fencing bordering his farm. The rapping of his hammer punctured the lulling sound of quiet as it pounded nails into wood. He lifted a hand in greeting to her as she approached, grunting.

“A bit early to be takin’ a walk, lass.”

Essie smile wearily. “A morning stroll is good to enjoy the peaceful scenery,” she replied truthfully. “What happened here?”

“Damn horse big as could be came barreling through last night,” he sighed. “Never seen a beast so bold and clumsy to hit a fence. But I wanted to get it fixed, before letting out the cattle to graze. You mind holding that there board for me? Pay you a couple copper shillings for the help.”

A couple coins for holding a board in place? It seemed hardly worth being paid for, but the good act would at least make her feel useful. Better than nothing, especially considering all the mindless pleading she’d had to do yesterday in hopes of some pay. Pocket change would have to do. Maybe it’d end up enough to get a poor-man’s meal the next town over; some bread, or some fruit to break up what she’d been gifted.

She stepped forward to take hold of the new sturdy point, offering a slight smile. “I’d be happy to.”

The man smiled. He adjusted the wood, indicating where he’d like for her to hold it calmly. His hands were surprisingly soft for a work-hand.

Steadying the hammer, he tapped a new nail into place a few times. His arm recoiled, bracing for a firmer strike.

The leather satchel at his side moved against his hip. A heavy bound book’s binding glinted; a scroll of words written in a foreign tongue embellished in gold glaring up at her.

The hammer came down with a gargled mess of curses from the man.

Essätha wasn’t fast enough to retract. The blunt object smashed into her arm, and she cried out. There was a painful crack of bone; bruising immediately seizing into the skin. Strikes of lightning sprang off of the man’s arms; rippling static energy into the air. They coursed their way up her arm and left distinctive lightning burns creeping up her limb.

She yanked her arm back, howling with agony. The wooden board swung back, hitting the individual in the knee so they yelped with pain.

“Fuck! Come here ya little-”

Recoiling, Essie barely missed being struck again by the mallet; swinging in the air with a sizzling crackle of electricity arcing off it. She stepped back quickly, lifting her hand in a sign of peace.

“W-Wait-”

The hammer swung again, but this time the remnants of the fence were her savior. The man fell over the wood not properly nailed into place, and sprawled half over the posts with a groan. He pulled his arm back, ready to chuck the small hand-weapon in her direction.

A flash in the grass, and a lengthy weasel sprang forth. Their form almost seemed to explode; fur disappearing or flying off as they expanded and reformed in shape and size. A woman replaced the sight of the beast, and landed on the man’s lower half, dragging him back over on the farmer’s lot of land.

“Get off of me!” the wizard spat, furiously twisting. “You! You wretched woman! By the name of the Keepers, I will end you!”

Miz’ri snarled down at the man, ramming her scimitar blade through their chest. He violently convulsed as blood foamed in the spittle on his lips, raising his hand in the air. Clipped words of a spell begin to froth from his chest, and a semi-transparent hand flashed into existence to grab at his captor’s throat. The mage hand missed however as the Drow woman dived, driving a fist into his back and winding him.

Nursing her arm with the throbbing, fractured bone within it Essätha dared to advance. “What the hell are you doing?”

The woman whipped backwards as she looked up. “What I have to,” she shrieked, pulling her weapon free to puncture it through the wizard’s backside once more. They let out a strangled noise while slumping forward, their struggles ceasing as they curled into a twitching ball of pain.

“Stop,” Essie gasped. “That’s enough! You’re killing him!”

“And what do you care?” Miz’ri retorted. “He tried to kill you!”

“Get off of him,” she insisted, trying to kick aside the fallen fencing. As she did so, the Drow woman rolled off of the heavily bleeding man. He cringed at her approach, realized who it was, and spat at her feet. Ignoring his wheezing sneers, the Yuan-Ti woman bent down, trying to look at the severity of his injuries.

“Sir?”

They offered a crooked grin at her, hands moving against their waistcoat. Essätha reeled back, wary of any possible weapon they might try throwing, but instead they pulled out a small vial from their pocket. It sloshed a dark purplish liquid inside, and as they pulled out the loose cork, its color darkened intensely. They made a gesture as if to toss it; causing her flinch, which ultimately wasn’t necessary. As she peered back at the man, having expected some source of pain, all she saw was the glass bottle in his parted lips, and the sunken discoloration of his eyes. His veins deteriorated rapidly into dark lines webbing across his features.

Miz’ri gave a throaty, nasally, harsh barking laughter. “The bastard poisoned himself!”

She couldn’t believe it. Vacantly looking at the corpse of the man, she shuddered. Was she still sleeping? People didn’t just up and attack you, only to commit suicide after they’d been wrestled down and stabbed.

“Don’t look so distressed, Essätha, the man did it to himself,” the Drow scoffed. Miz’ri was already filing through his pockets and satchel, tossing out items as she examined them. The coin purse was quickly deposited on her person, but most anything else was deemed worthless or not exciting enough to study past first glance. As she inspected the wizard’s spellbook, she stated: “He was a member of the Virtuous Reclaimers for Her Lady. He was probably ordered to kill you. I warned you you were in danger. You angered some people prone to bad tempers.”

“Virtuous what nonsense?” Essie expelled hoarsely. She licked her lips, racking her brain for information. “Is this- is that what this is about? Your Keepers?”

A jump appeared in Miz’ri’s throat. “They aren’t my Keepers,” she muttered. “I’m not associated with them anymore.”

The booklet. She’d left it with Tibiius, unable to read it, but it had spoken of the group these people were associated with. She wished she’d asked more questions and clarifications from the kind old gentleman before she left. The only knowledge that came back to her now was that awful night in the dusty old house, and the goddess they followed, Lolth.

“I told you you were going to need my help,” Miz’ri stated, stuffing the wizard’s log into her backpack as she shrugged it off. She dug around, producing a sizable clear bottle of red liquid. After a pause, Miz’ri offered it out with a nonplus expression. “Take this. It’s a healing potion. It should help your arm.”

Essätha reached for the vial, and paused. Her fingers twitched in the air, just shy of grasping the beaker. Her other arm still held at the same angle, throbbing.  “How do I know this isn’t poison?”

Cursing in a clipped voice, Miz’ri yanked off the stopper at the top of the flask. She took a quick swig; swallowing, before offering it again. “If it was poison, do you think I’d drink it?”

Possibly, Essie wanted to respond. She didn’t have it in her though. Her mind was still processing the insanity of the morning, with the sun twinkling on the horizon and leaving long shafts of shadows stretched across the ground. So she took the bottle, sniffed, and drank it solemnly. Silent and watchful of the Drow woman as she finished going through the man’s things, the potion swiftly eliminating the ebbing pain in her arm.

“He was a Virtuous… Whatever?”

“A Reclaimer, yes,” Miz’ri replied, keeping her gaze down while Essie’s scored the skyline with a detached expression. “He’s no Drow though obviously; he’s human. I had a skirmish with him the other night, and broke down the fence. He doesn’t live here; the real farmer’s already out tending the land, I checked. As a human he knew his place among our faith. He knew his fate would one day lead to death. He made his choices. Taking the poison now or tomorrow or a year from now, he would have eventually died.”

She swallowed. Her eyes, though she told them not to, looked down at the man’s corpse. You could make out his veins beneath his transparent flesh. They were discolored and dark, with unseeing eyes staring forward. It seemed to be deteriorating his body faster than a normal death. Bruising was already taking over his swelling appendages.

“That’s…” Her voice trailed. Disturbing was too little a word. It was beyond appalling. Not only supporting a cause, but joining it knowing you would die. Willingly accepting yourself as collateral to others.

Miz’ri didn’t acknowledge her nauseous expression, and simply went on, “They won’t tag after you forever. You won’t be worth the trouble and resources. Sure you got in the way of one scheme, but that is one among many. They’ll have other chances. In the mean time, we should get out of town.”

“What did they want with that family heirloom? What is their goal?”

“You really know nothing about Drow, do you?” she scoffed.

Essätha gave a small shake of her head. “A… little. But I-”

“Of course, why would you bother learning about the Drow,” Miz’ri bitterly sneered. “Lolth, our Dark Mother, is the true God of the Drow. She protects women, and seeks our strength and rule in a world where men see themselves as the superior power. She wants the Drow to have honor once again; to be seen. Our brothers and sister who have lived on the surface level, they are given respect and admiration, where we are looked at as nothing more than filth. She is giving us the chance at a better society; where the intelligent, compassionate and understanding of a mother can lead, and from her ruling womb birth a prosperous world.”

“I do not agree with all of the Reclaimers methods. I never did. But I did want to be seen. Surely you’ve seen it before, up here on the surface. Men are given all the glory and power. They’re complimented for their strength, nobility; given titles and castles and riches, seen as the ruler of a household. Women are asked to be at the call of a man. Seen as submissive, weak, nurturers; nothing but the one who gives and raises the children, and cleans the house.”

“Do you not see the sort of change Lolth offers?” Miz’ri dreamily sighed. “I want the sort of rights and respect a man can get. I want a world where my people; my race, is seen. Respected. We live in the Underdark because that is where we were forced and punished to exist, eons ago, and now our entire name is seen as a bad omen based off location. But that can be fixed. Following the guidance of The Queen of Spiders, we can once again ascend and let our name be known and we shall be witnessed once more.”

A fearful sensation squirmed helplessly in the Yuan-Ti’s belly. It sounded like conquest. The ruling of women was of course plausible; hell, it existed. Etheron itself had a Queen. To proclaim that no women out there had that sort of control over territories, economy, towns; it was inaccurate. But then again, this was not the Underdark.

That didn’t make it any more right, however. Forcing a gender, a race; anyone beneath another, it was simply wrong. Her own people showed her that. Other societies and history itself proved that. A sense of humanity in the hearts of anyone with a shred of decency, they knew that sort of outlook was wrong. Some did not see each other as equals. Some never would. But a truly balanced scale would never fall short or tall, simply for placing two different souls upon it. You could not equate one life with another. There was no value, better or worse, to be placed. Living was living; existence was existence, people were people, and that was that. No begger was worth more or less than the aristocrats, and everyone deserved a place of comfort of joy.

Not every Drow followed this Lolth. The name was already lost to her, but she vaguely recalled how Tibiius had spoken of his clergy to another deity. Some other dark lady, or dark maiden he had said. But the way Miz’ri spoke, with such idol worship, she made it sound like the center of the universe itself settled on her goddess, and that was worrisome.

“So your old faction wanted peace through murder?” she hedged. Her foot moved over the broken up railing of the fencing, back towards the road. Slowly.

“They did. I did not,” the slate gray woman insisted while getting up from the ground. “I believe in Lolth’s rule, but I do not want to kill my people in the process. I don’t want to kill anyone. I just want to be recognized.”

A thin smile stretched across Essätha’s lips. “Well, I see you.”

She realized the cruelness of her own words a moment too late. It was not a time for teasing.

But strangely, the soft lavender color of the woman’s eyes rounded huge. Highlights of color seemed grow against her cheeks, although it was difficult to tell with such a monotone skin color. She offered a shaky version of a smile of her own in response.

“… Thank you, Essätha.”

They picked their way over the wooden boards after her. Essie wriggled her hands together, clasping and gripping at wriggling fingers to keep from reaching for a dagger. Miz’ri didn’t seem to notice the uneasy distrust still lingering in the air as she reached up to pull her mane of hair back into a ponytail.

“You’re just a Yuan-Ti, but maybe if you can make the effort, so can other people,” the Drow stated. It was impossible to tell if it was meant to be a jab, a joke, or just a terrible compliment. Nevertheless, with the leather band tied around her messy hair, she beamed proudly.

“We should continue-”

“You’re not coming with me.”

Miz’ri drew a frown across her face, knitting her eyebrows. “Why not?”

Essätha dropped her jaw. “As if I need to explain myself- again? I appreciate that you saved me- I do- but you’re still the reason I got abducted!”

“I’m sorry, did I tell you to take that amulet off of me? We’d both be in different situations if not for your grabby fingers. Well, I would, anyway. You’d still be smuggling goods and moving restlessly from place to place hoping for change you’re never going to find to better your miserable life, and I’d be stuck with Jayfier still on a mission. All of this: it’s because of you. You stole, you took something that you had no right to, and it finally caught up and bit you in the ass.”

“Don’t get mad at me for your own lifestyle,” Miz’ri sneered. “It won’t work. I came with information. I saved you from becoming a sizzling smear on the road just now.”

“I never asked you to rescue me!” Essie fumed.

“This arrangement is for the benefit of us both. I’ll have your back, you’ll have mine. You don’t exactly look like you have any friends, ssa j’nesst, and I lost everything I had when I elected to leave my following,” they snarled. “You owe me.”

They stood tense. Eyes locked. Essätha grated her teeth together until her jaw was aching.

Finally, the Drow spoke: “It’s only temporary, until I’m sure they’ve lost interest. It probably won’t be more than a few months. I’ll split my funds, my rations, and whatever else I need to do to gain your trust. Deal?”

Exhaling roughly, the Yuan-Ti woman doubtfully examined the hand extended towards her.

“How do I know I can trust you?”

The woman paused. Her face, as empty as her face was; as empty of her voice, clarified the simple answer: “You don’t. But you will. I’m the insider. I’m your best bet. And you’re mine. I don’t want to go through this alone, any more than you do. I’ve all you got if you want to sleep soundly at night.”

Each chilling word sent another wave of unease through her. Narrowing her eyes, Essie turned away, her cape flapping behind her.

“I’ll pass, thanks.”

Her boots scuffled the dirt road as she began to walk once more. Her thoughts, unable to shake the vision of the dead man staring hauntingly up at her. Every sense was pinpointed not to the future; not before her, but to the silent figure behind her. Waiting. Expecting the attack that never followed; the desperation, something. Anything.

Instead, she could make out the exasperated groan of the woman, and her words floating after her: “You’re going to regret turning down my offer!”

I’m better off without it, Essätha thought viciously. She didn’t need friends. She didn’t need others to complete her; defend her, support her. She didn’t need pretty fibbing lies to sleep at night. She didn’t need anyone. The disappointments they brought, the hurt, the pain.

She had survived this long in life. She could go on longer. She would go on longer, without the help. For how long, who was to say, but she’d get by.

For now, at least.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The next town over had a bit more tourism than the last. It made it easier to swipe a few stray coins shopkeeps had yet to deposit. No inn was cheap enough to take her in or any willing to allow her to pay another way, but at least she had food and a musty bedroll to curl up in just outside a wooded villa. Stars twinkled above her. The light of the dying fire embers from her campfire a steady glow. It didn’t produce the blistering warmth she wanted. Even an inferno could not kill the frost that seemed to live in her bones.

Soft cracking of wood and the swish of leaves padded through the grass. Essätha reached for the dagger kept close to her sack, her teeth bared and magic blooming along her palms.

The tracker’s palms were held open and defenseless. Not entirely defenseless, she told herself; recalling the plant-growths that had ensnared the side of the tavern some days back.

“I knew you would sssshow up again,” Essätha hissed. “I am not your sitter, and you are not mine. I gave you my answer. Now-”

“I’m sorry,” Miz’ri blurted out.

A heavy silence filled the air, briefly.

“You don’t have to believe me, but I need you,” the Drow woman whispered, her voice breaking as tears welled up in her eyes. “I have no one else to turn to. I’m scared. I’m being hunted. I’m seen as a traitor by my own people. I need help, and right now, you’re my only hope. I have nothing else. I probably am going to bring more trouble than you need, you’re right about that. I know the Virtuous Reclaimers. I might be able to outwit them for a while, but not forever.”

“You’re already in danger. I just… I’d hoped you would see the benefits as much as I did. I know I’m pushing. I can’t stop myself. They won’t quit until I have been punished. You are forgettable, but I have brought shame upon my faith.”

“I’m not asking you to commit your life to mine,” she hiccuped. “I’m asking for a chance to make things right. If I get stronger; if I can make it in this world, maybe I’ll find my own place and I won’t need to be afraid for my life anymore. You don’t need to put your faith in me. I’m just asking for a little companionship, and some time to sort myself out.”

A savage no was right on the tip of her tongue. She owed this Drow nothing. They had endangered themselves for her, yes, but she had not asked for it. She could have defended herself from her assaliant days ago.

Essätha didn’t trust her. She didn’t believe many of her words, but there was a speck of pity in her heart. Her intuition told her that not everything Miz’ri said was fabrications to gain her mercy. The dreaded terror in her expression was real. The Drow woman truly believed that she was in danger. She honestly thought that if she had to go out, and face the dangers of the world alone, that she wasn’t going to make it.

Only the strong survive. Wasn’t that how the saying went?

It was a lie. Essie was proof of it.

Debating the teary-eyed woman, she finally gave a curt nod; her eyes still and frosty. “Fine. I can not seem to shake you off, so you’re welcome to join me. But I am not responsible for you, any more than you are of me. If we encounter these Reclaimers, that will be the only time cooperation is key. Otherwise, I am entitled to myself, only to myself, and you are to yourself. I do not want a copper piece out of you. You will not get one from me. We will not be sharing room and board, meals, or other expenses. Are we clear?”

“I am indebted to you nothing,” she verified.

Without hassle, the woman was quick to nod her head in agreement. Her tears had almost vanished completely as she shuffled closer, offering out her hand.

“Thank you-”

“Do not thank me,” Essie muttered, ignoring the outreached fingers. “Let me sleep, or I’ll change my mind. Already tired enough…”

“Sure.” Miz’ri agreed, stepping back. Her grin was massive as she went on, “I’ve never traveled with a Yuan-Ti before. Your magic is from Shadowfell, is it not?”

That caught her attention. Mutely, she nodded while settling back into her bedroll. “It is…”

Nodding, the Drow woman removed the small sack from her shoulder. It was a bedroll, and as she unrolled it, it contained what little she had on her. She placed the mismatched items aside without a backpack to place them in, and began to unroll it.

The question nagging at her mind finally jumped to the surface. “How are you able to change like that? I’ve only ever heard of Yuan-Ti, and cursed werewolves…”

Sliding into her bedding, Miz’ri grinned proudly. “Druidic magic,” she explained. “It is a connection with nature and its magic that allows me to wild shape into other creatures. It’s a thrill. Unfortunately not all beasts are very powerful, so if I were to change into, say, a fly… you don’t really want to be swatted.”

Making a soft noise in the back of her throat to show she’d heard, Essie rolled over on her opposite side. It was an indication the conversation was over, as she shut her eyes.

Sadly, Miz’ri didn’t seem to catch on.

“What’s it like for you? Changing into a-”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Oh… okay. But-”

“I’m trying to rest,” she grumbled. “Goodnight, Miz’ri.”

“It’s not really fair I talk about my stuff,” the muttering voice of the Drow venomously spat, “and I get to learn nothing about you.”

Essie bit her lower lip to keep from shouting: Just because you are willing to give information out freely does not mean I have to.

She was grateful for the silence that finally came. But sleep never really did. Uneasy by the person beside her, who she waited to get up and stab her in the night. The sound of Miz’ri tossing and turning. The jumpy unease of every noise that scrambled across the leaf litter in the night.

All she hoped was that she’d be able to lose her new ball and chain, sooner rather than later.

[swanderful1]

Duplicity: Ch 5/?

Notes: So.... it has been a long time since I updated this story. And I could list all of the reasons why, but I won't. Instead I will leave this chapter here and promise to do my best to get on a regular schedule with it again.Writing has always been and will always be a passion of mine, but it's easy for me to let day to day life get in the way of that. I hope you will continue to read and enjoy what I put out in this story (and others in the future) and I am forever grateful for all of the support.The next chapter will not take so long to be posted, that much I can guarantee, so stay tuned and let me know what you think! Thank you :)

A special, special thanks to my beta @resident-of-storybrooke who is a gift and also to @shady-swan-jones for the incredible art and also to @onceuponaprincessworld for keeping me accountable and reminding me to keep writing

Summary:  Secrets shroud the homes of the idyllic Willow Lane. Its newest resident, Emma Swan is no exception. In a place where perception is everything, the facade begins to crack. And Emma finds herself staring down the deep, dark secrets that the neighborhood was built on and that nothing is as it seems. Not even the blue eyed gardener.

Read the whole thing on AO3 and ffnet

For as long as Killian could remember he loved being on the water. It didn’t matter if he was in a canoe, a speedboat, or just swimming around he was at ease. He and Liam used to spend as many weekends as they could, off fishing in their favorite spot. A lake not far from Storybrooke that they had gone to as children. It was the only example of a vacation they had ever known. Their family never had much, so anywhere that required planes or trains was out of the question.

The day he had told Emma about the cabin, and how it had been the inspiration for what his current home looked like, was the first time he had ever said that sentence out loud. Making it all the more real.

All of that changed seven years ago. His comfort on the water completely disintegrated when Killian lost his brother. Liam’s death altered the entire course of his life and even now, standing near the small creek behind his house, he felt the crippling anxiety of being near water. Which was why it was surprising to him that he had even uttered the words aloud to her. To Emma.

It was Saturday morning, and the day was crisp. Overcast. Chilly. The warm April weather had shifted quickly, as it sometimes did in the northeast. So today he wore Liam’s old Storybrooke High sweatshirt. It was ripped and threadbare but it kept Killian warm. And his family didn’t exactly have heirlooms to pass down, so he kept their memory alive in little ways that he could.

An old tree sat, tall and gangly near the creek where his old fishing boat rested in the grass.

Old was an understatement, as the small boat looked as if it hadn’t been used in thirty years. Grass growing around it, like an ornate lawn sculpture that was intentionally planted there to make it look rustic.

From the creek he looked up at his modest home and compared it to the cottage he had once loved so much. The pitched roof. The simple stonework that made up the walls. The modest back porch with two rocking chairs where he used to sit every morning. The green shutters, where the paint was now peeling. He would have to redo those eventually. But it hardly seemed worth it. He had no neighbors and never any guests.

It was interesting to him how he spent his days making the outside of other people’s homes so lovely while his appeared to be falling into disrepair.

What he should do was sell the house. Between losing Liam and Milah, there was too much history. Too many ghosts lingering in the floorboards. And all of it was painful. At least the most recent ones were. It was why he hid in the apartment above Robin’s bar for so long, and why he went back there on weekends when he needed to not feel so alone. The one room, impersonal space with a stranger was about all he could bear.

A gentle breeze rustled the trees around him. His house was surrounded by foliage that had been there for years. And at one point he found it to be peaceful on a Saturday morning like this, when there was a chilly breeze bringing it all alive. But today all he felt was morose.

His phone rang, bringing his attention away from his general bad mood. The caller ID told him it was Will… and that the time was already almost 9 am. Bloody hell. He was going to be late.

“Top of the morning,” Will said on the other end. “Can I expect to see you at any point today or should I tell your friend you aren’t coming?”

“My friend.. What… who?” Killian was startled by the question. His friend couldn’t possibly mean….

“Mrs. Gold.”

Her last name is Swan, Killian thought to himself, but chose not to correct Will over the phone. The last thing he wanted to hear was the relentless teasing about Emma Swan. Who he found himself thinking of a lot, especially when he shouldn’t be.

“The pallet of bricks arrived at her house this morning and are good to be laid for next week, but she hates them…” said Will. “I told her you had said her husband already gave specific instructions about the brickwork…”

As much as Killian normally would have rolled his eyes and made some comment about the unimportance of the tile pathways, he softened a bit. He remembered the last time he had seen Emma, and how unsettled she looked. Like a deer in the headlights, in her own home.

That had been on Monday, and Killian hadn’t been over there since. Now that it was Saturday, he figured he had avoided checking in at the Gold project for as long as he could. It was hard, he felt torn between wanting to know everything about Emma Swan and wanting to keep a safe distance.

“Tell her I’ll be right over,” Killian said quickly hanging up the phone. He took one more look around his own backyard. There were no gazebos or hand laid brick. There were no intricately plotted flowerbeds. No fountains. But when he and Liam had bought the place all of those years ago, it had been the proudest day of his life.

So perhaps all of the memories here were not bad, perhaps he just had to work a bit harder to uncover the good ones.

The plumbing for the sprinkler system had gone in the front and the backyards during the week. When Killian’s truck pulled up to the curb, he could see his workers putting the wooden fence in place. It would all be fine if he avoided the place, he knew that. Still though he wanted to be there.

“There he is,” Will said removing his gloves and walking over to Killian. He had been making his way around back when Will had caught sight of him. “Thought I would have to take over the business if you didn’t start showing up here.”

“It’s a busy time of year, you know that.”

“I’m just glad you’re here,” Will’s arm pointed to the pallets of bricks that had been ordered weeks ago to be used in the yard. “She’s not pleased.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Killian said looking toward the house. Emma wasn’t outside so he would have to go to the door. He would use the back, safer from prying eyes that way. He caught enough shit for following her in on Monday, he didn’t need to amplify it.

The back porch was not as empty as he had last seen it. Gone were the empty moving boxes that had scattered the space that was now filled with furniture. A bench with colorful pillows and a small table with a candle on it. A yoga mat sat in the far corner with a dog eared book and a bottle of water. All of which he assumed belonged to Emma. He could oddly picture her out here, even amongst the chaos surrounding her yard.

She just seemed like one of those people who was immune to the insanity, but allowed it in her life anyway.

“Killian… hi,” Emma said when she answered the door. Her expression was surprisingly readable to him, if he didn’t know any better he would say she was happy. It was a stark contrast to the last time he had seen her. “I’m sorry to make you drive all the way out here, I know you’re probably busy…”

“Don’t worry, love, it’s my job.”

Her face fell a bit but not for long. In an instant she was back on, pleasant even and guiding him into the kitchen. Her long hair was tied in a braid that fell down her back, and she was dressed in jeans with a sweater in a lovely shade of pale pink. Everything about her reminded him of a doll, so poised and careful.

This time he felt a bit better about being inside her house. He wasn’t covered in filth from work, and he didn’t have on dirty work boots. Killian was still in his jeans and ragged sweatshirt. But it also meant he forgot to put on his gloves before coming to talk to her. He had left his truck so quickly he didn’t cover his prosthetic hand.

“I saw the bricks and they’re terrible…” she started, heading over to the circular dining table in the kitchen nook. The surface was scattered with her laptop and some papers and home magazines. Clearly she had done some research before arguing the yard’s design. “I found some other examples that I like better….”

“I see that,” he laughed. For someone who didn’t care too much about living here, she certainly managed to keep a pristine home and gather a lot of ideas. He tried to tuck his hand in his pocket to hide it from her view. In the gloves or in dim lighting he could normally get away with the fake hand, but he had forgotten to put on the gloves and it was broad daylight… so it was pretty obvious.

“I know Neal gave you instructions already but do you think we could use those bricks in the front and maybe this limestone in the back?” She pointed to an image of a lush backyard garden with a limestone path in grass leading to a bird bath. Her hands were so soft looking, her painted fingers gliding across the glossy page as her bracelets dangled.

Killian was uneasy. It had been her husband who ordered them in the first place, and if the Gold’s were as powerful as Killian suspected they were, he didn’t want to go against them. Even in such a seemingly small way.

“If it makes you feel any better, all of the homes on this street used those bricks for their pathways…” Killian chimed in. He remembered putting them in across the street at the Mills’ house and then at the Nolan’s and even at Ruby’s grandmother’s house. It was all part of the uniform structure that was the cul de sac.

Emma looked up at him, her green eyes were lighter today. Not quite so concerned as the last time he had seen her. From that alone he was relieved. It was interesting though that, even in her most relaxed state, she appeared caged. Like there was so much more she wished she could say and do.

“I can talk to him if that’s what you’re worried about,” she said finally. Behind her was the bay windows that looked out toward the backyard where he saw the fence being put up. Normally he would just allow the wife to start the fight, to bring up her dissatisfaction with the landscaping design choices the husband made, but the look in her eyes made him want to be the one to take that hit. “He can be tough to deal with.”

“It’s all right, I will make some suggestions,” Killian offered with a soft smile. Again, interpreting that she wanted to say more about her husband but biting back on it. “I may not be able to get him to agree on the front yard but perhaps the backyard could be negotiable.”

Emma smiled back at him. One that reached her eyes.

“Which tiles would you like me to suggest?” he asked, pointing to the magazines on the table. Not even realizing that he had used his prosthetic hand to do so. He tried to pull it away before she noticed but her head had frozen. And not on the clutter on the table. “I... um…”

“I’m sorry, I just didn’t realize…” she stumbled over her words, an adorable shade of pink highlighting her cheeks. “I would have never noticed, you usually wear the gloves.”

“Boating accident… when I was seven years old,” he said, catching her looking. He remained calm though, mostly because she wasn’t riddled with disgust or judgement. Emma’s face was simply kind in expression.

“I didn’t mean to stare…”

“It’s quite alright, love.” He took a step toward her, now they were only a few inches apart, as his prosthetic hand extended in her direction. She took it, with much trepidation, and other than the day he met her when they shook hands, this was the only other time they had touched.

Her fingers slowly traced the palm, the soft manicured tips dragging along the prosthetic. He felt himself wishing it was his real hand she was touching, but then again wouldn’t that be incredibly inappropriate?

“It doesn’t prevent me from doing anything.”

Emma considered him, her eyes searching his face. He turned away, knowing that if someone were to walk in right now it would be a horrible scene.

At the same moment, she seemed to also realize that the two of them had crossed a line. It was unspoken, not entirely obvious, but nevertheless the air in the room had shifted.

“So,” Killian cleared his throat, stepping slightly away from Emma. “The tiles. I will have a quote for you by the end of the day.”

“Perfect,” she replied. Her posture stiffened and she busied her hands with sorting the magazines on the table. Out of the corner of his eye Killian could see the fencework coming along, and while he could have let Emma Swan trace his palm all day he had no business doing that. “I’ll um, I’ll be around so just let me know.”

“Certainly.” His smile was terse and he knew it, forced. But hers was the same.

And as he headed back into the yard to continue doing his job, he wondered if Emma Swan was thinking the same thing that he was.

That night, after spending the rest of the day working in the Emerald Forest, Killian and Will plopped their arses down on two barstools for a well earned round of drinks at The Rose and the Thorn.

“What’ll it be, boys?” Robin joked as he poured their usual two fingers of rum into tumblers and slid them down the wooden bar.

Killian graciously took the glass and tilted it so the liquid coated his throat. It went down smooth, it usually did on Saturdays when he found himself planted on a barstool washing away the week. He twirled the empty glass in his hand, focusing on the surface marks from frequent use.

“Another?” Robin asked, pulling Killian’s attention away.

He thought on it, hesitating a little too long before setting the glass down for his friend to finish it.

“Ah, there he is, I hoped you weren’t getting lazy,” said Will nudging Killian on the shoulder. They both went through another round and then rose from the barstools to claim the dartboard before it got busy. The night was young, it had just gotten dark outside, which meant soon enough people would start pouring in.

“Don’t look now but someone’s already staring at you,” said Will, taking the darts from the pegs and handing them to Killian. Who looked in the direction Will was. “Hey, I told you not to look.”

“I’ve never been a great listener.”

Killian gave Will a sardonic look. This was all part of their normal banter for a Saturday night. It was the familiarity of it that Killian appreciated, because it wasn’t like he had a family with traditions or dinners. His friends were his family now.

“One of these days I want to trade faces with you… just to see what it’s like.”

“I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re talking about,” Killian muttered while throwing the first dart, it landed just below the center.

“Oh don’t pretend.” Will threw the next dart. “You draw a crowd everywhere.”

“It’s just the dim lighting.”

“Normally you would have been over there in a heartbeat.”

Killian looked to the small table of young women, specifically the one who had also been looking at him. She was pretty, brunette, dark eyes, a knowing smile on her face. She was his type and someone that usually caught his eye, Will was right. He politely nodded and went back to his dart throwing. Robin brought them over another round and stayed for a drink of his own before the bar got busy.

They spent so much time at this bar because Robin owned it, and Ruby worked there also. They could all spend time together, but on nights like tonight when the place was packed to the gills it was hard to have any sort of quality time.

The air was thick, with all of the bodies packed in the tight space. Will had wandered off to talk to some girl who often spent her weekends in the bar. Which left Killian alone with his drink, he toyed with his phone and let his mind drift to when he used to spend his Saturday nights in the company of a woman he actually cared for.

The crowd drowned out many other sounds but it couldn’t quiet the voice in his head. The one that told him to stop using these distractions as a means to avoid opening back up again. It was so much easier to take the easy way out.

His eyes locked with a woman a few feet from him. Not the same from before, she was different. Her hair was long, it hung in curls down her back and it was a light blonde. He had to look twice, to make sure it wasn’t Emma. It wasn’t, the woman was beautiful certainly but she wasn’t a match. Not even close.

Killian downed the rest of his drink and made his way over to the blonde. Her hair was a few shades darker and her skin wasn’t the same smooth, fair complexion. Her eyes weren’t a striking shade of green. But if he was honest with himself, truly honest, he knew why he allowed himself to be drawn to her.

Sunday morning bright and early, Emma was throwing in a few loads of laundry. The basement of the new house was unfinished, for now, but that was where the washer and dryer were. So she spent an awful lot of time in the dark, cinder block space throwing in load after load of clothes.

The boxes that had been on the back porch were now down here, stacked neatly in a corner. Emma had decided to assemble the deck furniture on her own one night when Neal neglected to call before coming home.

That was the thing with him, he would make grandiose promises to her about the future, and then they would fall by the wayside as quickly as they had been dreamt up.

She had sorted out all of the delicate clothes, wanting to do some of those to save money on dry cleaning when she stumbled upon a pair of Neal’s pants with his house keys in the pocket. Emma rolled her eyes, if she had a dollar for every time she found something he had forgotten to take out she could have bought all of Storybrooke ten times over.

It was a small inconvenience for her, to have to check Neal’s pockets, but these days the tiny things were adding up to mean more and more.

Like the surprise party Neal was apparently planning in their backyard. The one that had kept Emma on edge for the past week. It was probably why she had snapped so quickly when the bricks had arrived. The ones Neal had picked without talking to her.

Was it odd that her first instinct had been to call Killian and not Neal? Well, that wasn’t something she was willing to dive into.

After doing the laundry, and thinking far too much about things she couldn’t control, Emma began to get dressed in the master bathroom.

And a car horn began honking. She was just about finished, securing her watch on her wrist, putting small gold studs in her ears, zipping the knee high brown boots she wore over her jeans.

Mary Margaret had asked Emma if she had any interest in going to the Storybrooke farmers market. And it seemed like just as good of an excuse as any to get out of her house. To get out of her own head.

“I got us coffee for the ride, it takes a bit to get into town,” Mary Margaret said when Emma climbed into her car. The steaming to-go mugs left an aroma in the car of coffee that was calming. The morning was chilly, and it felt cosy in the car. She wasn’t sure what it was about this woman, but everything about her felt like home.

“Thank you,” Emma said taking a cup and sipping it. “How far away is town?”

“Well, on a good day… twenty minutes but today probably closer to forty. There’s a lot of construction.”

There was a time when Emma lived within walking distance of a farmers market. That was a trade off of living in the wide open suburbs where she had to get into a car anytime she needed a gallon of milk.

The highway was sectioned off by large orange cones from all of the road work that was happening. Emma noticed a few other incomplete neighborhoods that she remembered Neal pointing out to her as the work of his father. Well… and now Neal she supposed.

The trees were few and far between as the housing developments took over and the landscape became more manicured. Row after row of box houses lined up ready for families to move in. That’s where Neal had been all weekend, working on some plumbing issue in one of the developments. She fixed her eyes elsewhere, on anything. An old gum wrapper on the floor, an air freshener hanging on the mirror, the name of the radio station on the screen.

Neal hadn’t been around since the brick incident. So he had no idea she was angry, no idea she felt like he micromanaged her even when he wasn’t there. But for her, it wasn’t so much the appearance of the bricks, it was more so that they were exactly the same as everyone else’s.

Emma didn’t consider herself to be particularly high maintenance, but one thing she didn’t like was falling in line with everyone else. Her whole life had been a rebellious streak where she continuously ran the other way from what was expected of her.

It was how she had run away from several group homes even though it would have been easier to just stay there quiet. It was how she had met Neal. In a bar, in a shady neighborhood, that took fake ID’s and let her in without so much as a second glance at 17. It was how she had run from him the second she found out he would be working for his father. It was how she had done it again when he told her they would have to move to Storybrooke.

The closer they got to the central city of Storybrooke, the more Emma felt intrigued. Where she was living was such a stiff, suburban complex but the town at the center was much different. The symmetrical neighborhoods and manicured shrubs turned to old townhouses and apartment buildings. Little sidewalks lined with unique, quirky structures where no two looked the same.

Young people flooded the streets, which were narrow and crowded. There were couples walking dogs, groups of friends sharing coffee on stoops, and cars parked all along the sides.

“I’m so terrible at parallel parking, that’s the one issue with coming to this,” Mary Margaret mumbled as she cut the wheel and backed the car into a narrow spot along the street. “They block off half of this street.”

Emma looked ahead at the wooden structures blocking off the roadway. Just beyond that she could see the farmer’s market bustling with people. The tops of white tents were visible and Emma could smell the fresh scent of donuts and sweets as she climbed out of the car.

“This is quite the operation isn’t it?” Emma said, taking in all of the activity. It was probably the most at home she had felt since moving here. She was a city person, always had been, and while it wasn’t Boston she was stepping into, it was a place that was different.

“I think you’ll like it here, there’s all kind of fun things to see,” Mary Margaret said, her steps on the cracked sidewalk falling in pace with Emma’s. “Thanks for coming along.”

Emma looked over at Mary Margaret. Her face and smile were soft, she wore a pretty blue sweater. Even though they hadn’t known each other for that long, she was one of the few people she had warmed to not just in Storybrooke but in years.

“Are you kidding? I love this kind of stuff.”

“You do?” Mary Margaret seemed surprised at Emma’s admission. “I only mean that you seem like you aren’t interested in the town much…”

She looked over at the dark-haired woman again, trying to gauge what she was getting at. Her soft face had gone concerned, her brows furrowing in on one another. Emma made note of how tense she herself had gone. Instead of holding onto that resistance, she let it go. Mary Margaret wasn’t being nasty, she was a nice person just scared to breach the guardedness.

It was then that Emma realized how good she had gotten at reading people.

They made their way through the crowd. Mostly young people perusing the various stands. Between the food options and the boutique tents there was a lot to see. Mary Margaret led them through the maze of people toward a restaurant on the corner. The front windows took up the face of the building and inside Emma could see people eating breakfast at the checkered cloth tables.

“I figured we could stop by Granny’s and grab Ruby.” Mary Margaret held the door for her to the sound of a ringing bell above. “She works Sunday mornings so she should be good to leave soon.”

“There you two are I was beginning to waste away here,” Ruby said from behind the breakfast bar. The brunette was tall, and clearly garnered a male following, the men at the bar stools eating the breakfasts right where she was polishing silverware. Her long legs were in a pair of tight red shorts and her hair was in two pigtails. She and Mary Margaret were night and day in comparison.

“Sorry, it took a while to get into town,” Mary Margaret took a seat on one of the swivel stools on the end, Emma followed. “You know how it is Sunday’s.”

“That’s why I get here at 6 am,” the brunette smirked as she polished off the last fork and walked over to take her apron off. Emma could practically hear the men at the counter sigh.

“Emma, this is Ruby’s grandma’s place, it’s a bit of an institution…”

“Yeah, years ago when the city started the revamp, some developer offered her big money for this place… to turn it into apartments. And she wouldn’t do it.”

Emma looked around. The place was certainly charming. It wasn’t massive, the whole space was cozy. Filled with booths and a jukebox, metal chairs and checkered floors. It was the quintessential small town diner, in a city that had exploded around it.

The swinging doors the led to the area behind the breakfast bar swung open, and much to Emma’s surprise, out walked Killian Jones. Looking more worse for wear than she had ever seen him.

“Morning sunshine,” Ruby said when she noticed him. He had hardly looked up. His black hair a raggedy mess, his eyes fixated on the cup of coffee he was pouring, his feet dragging on the floor. When he finally looked up his eyes landed directly on Emma and she felt her whole body spike in response.

“Rough night?” she said quickly, not knowing what else to say when his gaze was still aimed at her. He was in the outfit she had seen him in yesterday at her house. And now here he was on a Sunday morning, fresh off a one night stand. But why was that any of her business?

“I’ve had better,” he said back.

Emma realized they had company. Out of the corner of her eye she caught Ruby’s gaze, who watched on pensively. She wasn’t sure what pull she felt toward him or why, but it was something. Each time she saw Killian Jones, or thought of him for that matter, that tether got the tiniest bit stronger.

And she caught herself thinking of him more often than she would admit out loud.

“Last I saw you were twelve drinks deep buying another round for a bachelorette party,” Ruby chimed in thankfully, bringing the other two people into the conversation.

Killian’s right hand reached up and scratched behind his ear, a soft hint of red hitting his cheeks. Emma tried to picture him in a bar, buying drinks for women, maybe going home with one of them. And then she stopped there. For whatever reason, her imagination couldn’t go beyond that.

“The bar next door is owned by an old friend of ours,” Mary Margaret leaned into Emma’s ear and said.

“You can get there through those swinging doors,” Ruby pointed. Now she was assembling some sort of sandwich on a plate for Killian. It was an intimate act, prepping someone’s favorite food when they were worse for wear without them even asking. “I’m gonna grab my bag then I’ll be ready to go. Killian, eat something so you don’t look like a zombie all day.”

Ruby handed him the sandwich and almost immediately he leaned over the counter to dig in. His hands wrapped around the buttered biscuit on either side.

“I’m gonna run to the ladies room I’ll be right back,” said Mary Margaret before hurrying off.

Then it was just the two of them.

“I apologize for you having to see me in this state, love,” he said before taking another bite. His face almost immediately perked up at the taste of the greasy sandwich, a feeling Emma knew well. After a late night, a breakfast sandwich was all she ever needed. And back in the day it had been all she could afford.

“It’s ok, I recognize that face…” She used to look like that on Sunday mornings. Before becoming a housewife, she thought but chose not to add.

“Ah, well, I must have missed you out last night.” He smirked.

“Unless you were in my living room watching Lifetime movies, I don’t think we would have crossed paths.”

“Sounds far lovelier than anything I partook in,” he shook his head. Emma smiled, he was oddly an easy person for her to talk to.

“In fairness, this is your side of town, not mine. You were just doing what you do.” Emma didn’t necessarily want to know what it was that he did, and with whom but she tried to remain nonchalant as she toyed with the sleeves of her sweater that peeked out of her jacket. “Unless you don’t do this every weekend….”

He stopped chewing and looked her way, his facial hair grown longer than usual, his eyes foggy from lack of sleep.

“I try not to,” he offered. “Every other Sunday I don’t schedule myself any work.”

“Interesting…” Emma studied him, it felt like he wanted to say more. “That must be hard to do though, especially during this time of year.”

A beat went by, and Emma thought that would be the end of it. It certainly seemed like a nice end point for a conversation between her and her gardener.

“Every other Sunday I go to see my mum.”

“Oh.” It surprised even Emma that he said it. Mostly because he had told her he had lost his parents. “Does she live far away….?”

“It’s about a two hour drive from here.” He stood up, his sandwich gone and the coffee drained from the cup. “I can’t go that often…. She’s in… It’s complicated.”

“I get complicated…” Just as Emma was about to tell him he didn’t have to get into it if he didn’t want, their conversation was cut off by Ruby and Mary Margaret returning to the counter.

“Alright, let’s get me out of here, I’ve already worked a full shift and I need some food truck nachos,” Ruby said.

“Perfect,” Emma replied, standing up from the stool a bit too quickly. It made her nervous, that he felt so comfortable talking to her. Because she was starting to feel it toward him, and she had spent most of her life repressing that sort of thing.

“Killian seems to be doing a bit better these days,” Mary Margaret said a little later when the three of them were walking down a city block with a shared order of pulled pork nachos.

“He has his good days and bad days,” Ruby replied, eating a glob of sour cream off of her finger. “Sunday’s are always tough though, cause he goes to see his mom.”

“It must be brutal.”

“Is she sick or something?” Emma asked. She had never had parents, so she had no idea what it would be like to make a decent drive once a week to visit family. “He was saying it’s hard to visit her…”

“He talked about her with you?” Both Ruby and Mary Margaret stopped walking, their eyes locked on Emma who was not expecting that reaction.

She treaded lightly, nervous to say the wrong thing.

“Just a little bit, before we left the diner when you two weren’t there…”

“Oh,” Ruby said, falling into step again. “He just doesn’t bring her up much.”

Emma wasn’t sure why this felt like such a victory for her. Maybe it was because she enjoyed talking to him, maybe it was something beyond that. Either way she was starting to feel a comfort with Killian Jones that was unlike other dynamics in her life.

“I didn’t know his mother was alive, he had said before that his brother raised him. So I assumed his parents were both-”

“He talked to you about Liam?” The women stopped yet again to look at Emma like she had a third eye.

“Briefly.” Emma went on the defense. Her guard up even though Ruby and Mary Margaret weren’t threatening in any way. But the last thing she needed was her new friends worrying. “It wasn’t a big deal.”

“His mom is in prison. For killing his father.”

Now Emma was the one staring wide eyed. His mother had killed his father?

“Ruby…” Mary Margaret interrupted.

“What? It’s public knowledge, if she wanted to look it up she could.” Ruby picked up another chip and ate it. “Besides, it seems he’s more open with her than normal.”

This thought made Emma squirm. Not because she didn’t like being around Killian, she did, but perhaps a little too much. Certainly too much for someone who was for all intents and purposes ‘married’ to someone else.

Later that night, as Emma returned to her new home on Willow Lane, she breezed past Neal’s car parked in the driveway and headed inside where she could already hear him on the phone with someone in his home office. She had stayed out with Ruby and Mary Margaret all day, enjoying the farmer’s market and then eating dinner at Granny’s after. Emma had to admit, it was probably the best grilled cheese she had ever tried.

The entire house smelled like fast food, and Emma crinkled her nose, not that she was opposed to it. Her career as a personal trainer didn’t prohibit her from being human and craving a greasy burger. But it was the mood that accompanied the whole thing. And all of the good feelings that had come as a distraction during the day, were gone.

When Neal caught sight of her from the office, she could see the greasy bag on the edge of the desk. Their eyes locked and his were only filled with contempt. Like he couldn’t fathom the idea of her not being there to cook him.

Ice shot through Emma’s veins at his stare. And then just as quickly as it had happened, it was gone. All of his focus went back to his work. As per usual.

Neal could run late, miss meals, birthdays, take calls at parties, and Emma would say nothing. But the second she fell out of step, he turned nasty.

It had been a while since she had seen it, and standing in the kitchen right now watching through the french doors as he ignored her, she was on her best behavior all the time without realizing it.

“I’m going to bed,” she said coldly, careful to make her steps extra heavy as she made her way upstairs to the bedroom. The sound of the office doors closing made her jump but she kept walking. Not that she would be sleeping anywhere near him tonight. Emma quickly changed and crawled into bed in the guest room.

Emma wondered what it would be like to curl into bed next to a warm body. It was something she felt herself wanting more these days than she cared to admit. Nowadays the only warmth she got was from her pillows.

She rolled over onto her side so she could see out the window. The sky was foggy, so she couldn’t see the stars. Emma reached her hand down between the mattress and the boxspring. For what she had found in Neal’s pants pocket earlier that day when she was doing laundry. The tiny plastic baggie that had been buried underneath his forgotten house keys. It was only a matter of time before he noticed it was gone.

The white powder glistened in the moonlight, the baggie resting between Emma’s fingers. Cocaine. It was his. It had to be. Why else would it have been in his pants pocket that he thought was going to the dry cleaner’s?

She had done her best to forget about it, all day but that was easier said than done. Emma had no idea what to do with it. For now, she would slip it back between the mattresses, rest her head on the down pillow. And for once, allow herself a few minutes to think that somewhere out there, a better life awaited her.

[darquedeath4444]

Always, Together, Forever

Chapter NINETEEN

"There are going to be fireworks later tonight," Gaara told Sakura. "We should go see them."

Sakura nodded in agreement.

Gaara quickly ran through the list of things available in the festival. "Is there anything you want to do?" He said.

Sakura frowned. "Um...I heard that...Sasori-sama was running a stall..."

"Sasori," Gaara corrected. He then smiled, pleased that Sakura had shared her own opinion. He nodded. "Okay." He knew where every stall was located, for he had planned most of it, then led Sakura off towards the stall his cousin was running with a friends of his, who had come from Iwagakure.

Anyone had been allowed to open a stall to sell things, or run activities, as long as they had applied for it and it had been approved of. Gaara had been surprised when Sasori had handed him his application form with a dark glint in his eyes.

How the two from completely different villages were friends, Gaara didn't know, but it didn't really matter.

Gaara trusted Sasori.

Sometimes.

Gaara glanced at the crowd of people gathered around the stall Sasori and his friend was running. People politely opened at path for them, and after thanking them politely, Gaara and Sakura made their way past the crowd.

What he saw made him want to cringe, frown and sigh at the same time.

Sasori and his friend, a blond shinobi, were sitting facing each other. The blond was building something out of clay. Gaara caught sight of something on his hands, and decided that it had something to do with how quickly the blond was able to build up his clay work.

Sasori was not looking at anything in particular, just taking notes.

After a while, the blond let out a groan and made a hand sign. The sculpture exploded in a cloud of paint, splattering himself and everything in the close vicinity.

Gaara threw up his sand, protecting him and and the rest of the audience from being showered. This caught the attention of the blond, and an annoyed looked Sasori, who was covered in pink paint.

The blond’s eyes instantly lit up. "Oh! I got it!" He got to his feet and marched over to them. He stopped in front of Sakura and pulled her forward. Gaara tensed and Sakura let out a gasp but the blond ignored them. "Hey! Danna! How about her, un?"

Sasori sighed. "I suggest you let her go, Deidara, before our beloved Kazekage decides to challenge you to a duel for her hand." He stood up and made his way towards them.

The blond, Deidara, frowned. "Kazekage...?" He turned around, then leaned into Gaara's face. "You're the Kazekage?"

Gaara narrowed his eyes.

Deidara let out a chuckle. "You definitely look like Sasori no Danna, un."

Sasori whacked the blond over the head, then turned to Gaara, ignoring the yelp of pain. "This is Deidara. He has no artistic value whatsoever and he claims to be my friend, but he mean no harm."

Gaara nodded, feeling unsure. The blond still had a hand around Sakura’s wrist.

"Deidara, this is Gaara, but you already know that." He gestured towards Sakura, who tugged her limb of of Deidara's grasp and was now hovering behind Gaara. "That's Sakura, and everyone knows she's off limits, so-" Sasori stopped mid sentence, then slowly looked down, at his sand encased ankles. "If I'm sent to the hospital,” he began matter of factly, “you are going to have to take care of double the work you usual do.”

Gaara narrowed his eyes, then turned to the side, his face suddenly feeling hot.

Deidara's grin widened as he looked between Gaara and Sakura. "Oh! I see...I see..." He chuckled.

"What is your stall about?" Gaara asked, trying to change the subject.

"We started off as a 'Explosion VS Eternal!' stall," Deidara explained. "But there isn't much space for a real explosion, and it's hard to compare when you're not in a fight, so we decided to see if we could create something together." He waved at the crowd. 

Sasori sighed.

"But we had no inspiration," Deidara continued. "Then you guys came by..." He grinned. "Anyways." He turned to Sasori. "As I was saying, how about her, un?" He gestured towards Sakura again. "She's perfect, isn't she?"

Sasori narrowed his eyes. "Yes...she is."

That was why Gaara was now sitting on a makeshift chair made of sand, shooting glares of I-will-melt-your-eyeballs at the two artists.

Sakura was sitting in front of Deidara, still as a statue. The blond’s hands were flashing over a huge mound of clay, and Gaara could slowly but surely see the outlines of a sitting figure beginning to appear. Sasori was crouched next to Sakura, fiddling with a pallet of paint, comparing colors.

A while later, Deidara stood up, a proud grin on his face. "Done!"

He and Sasori switched places. This time, Sasori crouched by the clay structure which was no doubt Sakura. Gaara noted that the clay was already dry and decided that it had something to do with Deidara's hands. The blond noticed his staring and sent him a toothy grin, then raised his hands, showing the Kazekage the mouths on his palms. Tongues flicked out in his direction.

Gaara took a deep breath, then turned back to face Sakura. Sasori was narrowing his eyes, paintbrush hovering over the surface of the clay work.

"So," Deidara plopped himself down.

Gaara looked at his cousin’s friend from the corner of his eyes.

"What's going on between you and the Pink Sand Princess?" The blond grinned.

Gaara quickly looked to the side, suddenly feeling self-conscious. "Nothing," he murmured.

Deidara laughed. "That's not nothing, un." He leaned in closer to him. "Sasori no Danna's expecting a godchild. He told me, un."

Gaara lowered his head to use his red hair to hide his equally red face.

After presenting the lifesize statue to the crowd, Sasori and Deidara gave it to Gaara with devilish smirks on their faces. Gaara teleported it immediately to his office, telling himself that it was so that he wouldn't ave to carry it around.

No, definitely because he didn't want people to see the statue Sakura.

In the clay work, Sakura was still dressed in the kimono for the festival. However, Gaara noticed with a blush that the collar of the kimono was slightly lowered, and Sakura had a slightly vulnerable look on her face, something Gaara had never seen on the girl.

The way she looked up at him from between her lashes, hand clenched over her heart, a faint smile on her lips- 

He wanted to Sand Coffin himself when the dark part of his mind told him that he liked it.

Gaara shook his head to clear his head, making Sakura glanced at him with well concealed worry. The pinkette never showed vulnerability. If she showed him weakness, it would be because she trusted him enough to protect her when she was weak. He wanted to be the person she leaned on when she needed to rest. That was why-

She only has you to lean on. You deprived her of this choice the moment you marked her as yours. The dark part of his mind sneered. She only knows to turn to you.

Gaara took a deep breath to calm himself.

He flinched when something brushed his hand and he looked down to see Sakura's shaking fingers hovering a little away from his. He turned to look at her and saw that she was looked at the ground.

She was trying to comfort him in the only way she knew.

Gaara smiled softly and took her hand. "Come on," he said. "The fireworks are starting soon, and I know the perfect spot."

Chapter TWENTY>

<Chapter EIGHTEEN

Chapter List

[willelbyers]

As The Seasons Change (we do, too)

Summary: Spring turns to summer and Mike falls out of love. Summer turns to autumn and he falls right back in—but it’s with the wrong person. Three years later, autumn turns to winter and he knows that everything is different. Pairings: Will/Mike, past Mike/El Notes: It’s post-season 2, about 4,300 words, with a healthy dose of Will & Max and Mike & El friendship on the side

So this is dedicated to Mishi @biwheelers​ because she’s amazing and a byeler shipper and so many of my ideas are from conversations with her and I couldn’t be more grateful! (Read her writing, too, because it’s awesome!)

This is posted on Ao3 here as well as written out below the cut. Enjoy!

It’s April. They’re almost in high school now, the two months left of school leading into the summer before freshmen year looming over them, thirteen turning fourteen years old and counting, and Mike knows that everything is different, or at least is going to be different—and not just because of the monsters.

Even now, four months after the Snowball, he remembers the feeling of his stomach flipping and his eyes going wide as El walked through the school’s doors in her new dress. He remembers how electric she made him feel when they kissed. He knows that he loved her, because she’s dazzling and bright and so, so beautiful. It almost burns. And he knows that they’re barely teenagers, and he knows that it’s a little early to experience love, but that doesn’t change that it is what it is.

He visits her in the (new) Hopper family’s hidden cabin once a week, usually accompanied by the others. They hold hands, sometimes, and on the rare occasion they’re left alone, Mike will indulge himself in more of that electricity he finds himself chasing after all the time. Her hair curls as her vocabulary expands, and her wardrobe slowly evolves with the help of their friends into something that’s a mix of what the Chief had been giving her, more of Nancy’s old clothes, and whatever she’d been wearing when she showed up at Will’s doorstep.

El is the wind and smoke and lightning, shifting and changing as she feels like it, and Mike loves her for it. They all do.

But then spring turns to summer and Mike falls out of love.

It happens all at once and he doesn’t understand: he sees Eleven now and he still loves her—because how could he not?—but the burning feeling is gone. There are no more butterflies, no more eyes-wide-open moments. The memory of electricity has dulled—he hasn’t kissed her in a while, and he thinks with a thrill of fear that she must have noticed.

So one day in June, he grabs his bike and pedals into the woods even though it’s four in the afternoon on a Tuesday and not a visiting day. He moves as though he isn’t in control of his own body anymore, and as he knocks on the door he feels another tingle of fear because though the pain isn’t comparable, this is what Will must have felt like when He was here.

El lets him in, confused because she knows no one scheduled this. Mike looks at her, with her hair curling around her ears and one of Max’s sweatshirts layered on top of Nancy’s old pale yellow T-shirt paired with some of Will’s jeans and black combat boots he doesn’t recognize, and he doesn’t know how to tell her that he doesn’t think he can kiss her anymore and he doesn’t know why.

So he tries, instead. He leans forward with every intent to meet her mouth, but he just… can’t. He can’t. He turns his head at the last minute and kisses her cheek instead before hugging her. A surge of guilt wells up in his chest and he can’t quite pinpoint why, because it’s not like he’s hurting her by not kissing her.

“I love you,” he says instead, and it doesn’t feel like a lie at all.

Her arms come up to wind around his shoulders, and he feels her mouth turn up into a small smile—the only kind she knows how to make. “Thank you, Mike. I love you, too.”

There’s something in her voice that should give Mike pause, but he ignores it because maybe reality won’t exist if he pretends it isn’t there.

Spring turns to summer, and Mike pretends that he’s still in love.

Summer break rolls right on by, and the high school building looms in the mind of every incoming freshman—including Mike.

So he does what every sane kid would do: he ignores it. He fills the dull spaces between waking and sleeping with friends (and less with family), with day trips to a nearby lake, with visits to the Hopper House, with absolutely anything. It goes by in a flash, his basement blurring in with Will’s room and then the park, every time they watch Max as she skates mixing up with playing with Dustin’s new cat and chasing Lucas’ sister down for stealing their stuff. Mike thinks that maybe next year, he should try to slow down, because summer is gone far too quickly for his liking and it feels like he’s done nothing at all.

That feeling comes to a complete stop, however, one day in September. School has been in session for a few weeks already, and the leaves are turning red and yellow. Mike walks through the forest with Will (and only him) at his side, taking careful steps that crunch on every brown leaf and coordinate with Will’s smaller strides.

They walk in circles for a while before Will takes an abrupt turn. Mike follows him because he’s too trusting, because even though this is the same forest where everything has gone wrong in the past and Will tried to kill him a year ago, Mike would die for him.

And it wasn’t even Will, then, he reminds himself. It’s hard to shake the memory of Will’s shattered eyes and broken screams, the emptiness of a slate wiped clean and the horrendous thrashing and the pure hatred in his face, but Mike knows it wasn’t Will at all.

He doesn’t know what comes over him, but as Castle Byers comes into view and they fall back into step with each other, Mike grabs Will’s hand. He’s only fourteen years old, but he knows what love is. He knows that electricity El used to give him, and he knows that Will’s hand gives him that, too.

They settle down inside the fort, Mike so tall that his head brushes the ceiling as they sit. He realizes that Will hasn’t let go of his hand, and he still doesn’t as his right one picks up a sketchbook. He flips it open and Mike watches as each page presents a face—some in deft strokes of black marker on white, some loose sketches in pencil, but most in strange monochromatic color pencil pallets that are almost ethereally beautiful. He sees exactly one self-portrait of Will, in indigo. His lips are tilted down into a frown, but he doesn’t look sad—maybe just focused. Mike notices Max in orange, her face taking up the whole page with hair seemingly spilling off the edges—Will really does seem to be making the effort to help her integrate into the party. Even if Mike still isn’t thrilled about it, he recognizes that she helps Will, and that Lucas likes her, and they all deserve it. Lucas himself is in a pale red, looking challengingly out at the figurative audience with his bandana on. Dustin is in a bright, sunshine yellow, grinning at someone out of the metaphorical frame. There’s El in green, one page with her face just as he knows Will first remembers seeing her—shaved head, Nancy’s dress with the neat collar, determined stare. The page directly opposite has more of El in the same color, but smaller, different angles and hairstyles and outfits, one sketch of her wrist with the tattoo, some full-body silhouettes. Mike supposes that Will probably gets El to model for him a lot—they’ve been spending a lot more time with each other since Jim and Joyce started dating.

There’s one of Mrs. Byers herself in some dark shade of pink, with a bright smile Mike can’t really ever remember seeing on her—and he’s known the woman for ten years, so that says a lot. There’s Jonathan in turquoise, camera raised just up to his shoulder. There’s one of Steve in purple, bat over his shoulder. Nancy makes the cut as well, a gray-blue color tracing her as she looks over her shoulder. Even Chief gets a sketch, though it’s not done—Mike can only make out the vague shape of his hat and face in a mustard yellow before the page turns.

He spots himself, too, on more than one occasion. His face takes up several pages in light shades of blue, soft smile on his face as his hair falls into his eyes no matter the angle or pose, and his stomach swoops because in that moment he understands how Will sees him.

When summer arrived he knew he wasn’t in love anymore, but as autumn storms past he knows that he’s fallen right back in.

Senior year is crazy even within the first month. El is working overtime already, managing the lighting booth for the theater club and taking a job at the local diner as a waitress during the evenings. Lucas is on the football team and Dustin joins band. Max works the afternoon shifts at the skate shop across the street from the diner—she hasn’t lived with her mom or stepdad or stepbrother in over a year, hopping between her friends’ houses; she needs the money.

Will joins in with El, volunteering on weekends to paint the backdrop for the school plays and working as a waiter at the same diner. Will and El do everything together, now, because Joyce Byers is now Joyce Hopper, El has a family after a lifetime without one, and Will finally has the sister he needs and has a mutual understanding with. They finally have all the things they deserve.

Mike, on the other hand, doesn’t even have a job because his parents insist he doesn’t need one.

“You need to focus on your studies, Michael,” his mother tells him when he hesitantly proposes the idea of him finding a job—at the grocer, maybe, or the music store that opened right next door to the skate shop. “College is coming up fast, and you don’t have time to be away from your schoolwork.”

“Besides,” his father says through a mouthful of roast beef. “We have all the money you need. Once you have a degree and a real job, you can support yourself, but until then, just let us handle it.”

And it makes Mike feel bad, because his dad talks like he doesn’t know that Will and El and Max need the money from their apparently “not real jobs”. It makes him feel bad because he sees their name tags, the tiny silver pins that read Will and Jane, the lanyard with the card that said Maxine M. until Max took a sharpie to it, the uniform with Sinclair and the feathered hat with Henderson, and Mike wants to do something. It makes him feel bad because he feels useless all the time, because he might not need to support himself but he wants to. He wants to know that he can do it.

He sulks in his room a lot, alone, turning the pages in his textbooks without reading anything at all, and it just so happens that one Wednesday in November the temperature plummets. That day at half past four, he hears his supercom buzz on his bedside table, and he turns to frown at it. None of them really use it to communicate anymore. But he sets aside his homework to pick it up and listens as Will’s voice floods through, staticky, telling him to come downstairs.

Mike instantly flies out into the hallway, pulling on his jacket over his thick sweater. He thunders past Nancy’s empty room, which is slowly accumulating new layers of dust once again—even just in the two months since she’d gone back to college.

“I’m going out, Mom,” he says, slowing down in the kitchen just enough to get the words out coherently. She says something after him, but he’s already out the door.

“Mike,” Will sighs as the front door closes behind him. He’s wearing a puffy coat that has a distinct “this used to be Jonathan's” look, and there’s a hat pulled over his hair. He has a small bag slung over his shoulder. Mike notices the goosebumps on the back of Will’s exposed neck—the result of cool air interacting with a haircut from junior year that Will has maintained. Before Mike can reply, Will’s arms are wrapped tightly around him. “I’m so glad you were home.”

“Like I would be anywhere else,” he replies, somewhat bitterly. Then he frowns. “I thought you were supposed to be working at the diner with El tonight. It’s Wednesday.”

“Called in sick,” Will mumbles. “Technically not lying.”

The alarms go off in Mike’s head. “Anniversary effect?” he asks, and Will just nods, burying his face into Mike’s shoulder. Static crackles in Mike’s ear, and he suddenly realizes how Will called him on his radio when Will’s own comm is nowhere in sight.

The anniversary effect, Mike knows, is a very real thing. Will really does have PTSD, it’s just that the inter-dimensional visions thrown in make it hard to differentiate what’s what. But it’s November, and it’s finally getting—

“Cold,” Will says, finishing Mike’s thought. “Yeah. That’s what set it off. It’s cold.”

Mike blinks for a moment—he’ll never get used to Will cluing into his thoughts. But the cold has never had the same connotations for any of them since the Mind Flayer, and Mike knows it’s the worst for Will. “Okay. Well… what do you want to do? Where do you want to go?”

“Quarry,” Will answers immediately. “The quarry.” Mike tenses up, because Will’s suggested it before but they've never actually gone through with it, and now he really sounds certain and Mike’s not sure he can do it. “If that’s okay with you,” Will adds, tugging the strap of his bag so Mike can feel it. “I… I can’t draw, not right now, but I brought Jonath—my camera.”

Mike feels Will breathe against him for a moment and eyelashes flutter by his neck, making him shiver. He can’t draw, it always turns into maps and vines and dark versions of what he starts out with. It’s November.

Will deserves this—to make his art, to get a grip on his fears, and if Mike can help then he will. “Yeah. It’s fine. Let’s go.” Then he pauses, because Will and El’s shared car (a gift from Dr. Owens they hadn’t wanted until they realized how practical it was) is nowhere in sight. “Wait. How did you get here? How are we getting there? My parents would never let me take the car.”

Will pulls away, smiling slightly. He picks up a skateboard leaning against the side of Mike’s house—right, of course. Will and Max are really close, now, due to shared trauma and shared interests, and she’s been teaching him to skate. Honestly, he’s not bad. “We both know you’re terrible, though,” Will teases halfheartedly. “And there’s no way we’re skating all the way out there anyway. El needs our car at six, Lucas is at practice and Dustin is in rehearsal so we can’t take theirs, but Max is working late tonight and when I called she said we could borrow hers until half past eleven.”

Mike groans dramatically, and Will laughs softly (and that’s why Mike does it). Max’s car is a really old secondhand one, fixed up with parts cobbled together from the junkyard with help from Dustin, Lucas, and Steve, and it always smells like burnt onion rings. Mike hates it, and everyone knows it—but it drives (even if it doesn’t go much over twenty-five miles per hour). And, anyway, if it’s to help Will, then Mike will do anything.

Will tucks the board under his arm, a silent signal that tells Mike that they’re walking. Mike watches Will carefully, sees how the small smile on his face falls almost instantly after their laughter is done. Without thinking, Mike takes Will’s free hand, ungloved, tangling their fingers. Will’s breath catches for a moment, and Mike pretends not to notice. They walk like that until they get within the vicinity of the shops, and then Will reluctantly drops Mike’s hand and shoves his own into his pocket. Mike pretends that his heart doesn’t also fall.

His watch beeps the hour—five o’clock—as they wave at Max through the window, keeping their heads low so Will’s supervisors at the diner across the street don’t see him skipping out. She grins at them, quickly scurrying to the door and tossing Will her car keys.

“Have fun, boys,” their Zoomer—Rogue, during campaigns, but in their hearts she’ll always be a Zoomer—grins. Mike can’t believe he ever hated her—she’s fiery and funny and she cares, and even if she’s still annoying, well, Mike has been putting up with Dustin for five years and arguing with Lucas for ten (and Holly, jeez, as soon as she started talking she just didn’t stop). Max really is a force of nature, and Mike knows he’s always going to care about her no matter what the end of high school brings.

“Thanks again, Max,” Will says as he twirls the keyring around his finger. His smile is weak, as it always tends to be, but the redhead’s presence seems to loosen him up at least a little bit.

“No problem,” Max waves it off. “Just be back by—”

“Eleven-thirty,” Mike interrupts, grinning smugly. She knows he’s not really being mean. “We got it, MadMax.”

“Whatever, Bike Wheels,” she retorts, nickname sparking a wicked glint in her eyes before it fades. “Just… you know, come back safe. We all know how this town gets.”

Will makes a little noise of agreement in the back of his throat, and Mike knows it’s because Will really does know how Hawkins gets. He knows because Will has told him that he can sense the town itself, as it lives and breathes.

He shakes his head to clear his thoughts. “Yeah. Sure. See you later.” He grabs Will’s elbow as they walk around the corner to the staff parking lot. Will makes a beeline for the driver’s seat, and Mike doesn’t protest like he usually would because it seems like Will could benefit from focused driving. Instead, he just clambers up into the passenger’s seat and rolls down the window before the burnt onion ring smell can get to him. Will turns the key and the car splutters to life, hacking in a way that makes Mike grimace nervously. He takes Will’s hand again and Will doesn’t startle—which is good, since he’s driving. They drive the rest of the way in silence, Will’s left hand on the wheel and Mike’s on his right.

Will slows to a stop as the quarry comes into view just as Mike’s watch beeps the hour once again—six o’clock. Mike lets his thumb brush over Will’s knuckles before he lets go and jumps out. Will does the same, bringing out his camera bag but leaving his skateboard in the backseat.

Mike watches Will for a moment as he looks around, hefting the camera contemplatively as if considering taking a picture. After a moment he lowers it frowning slightly. Mike wants to walk over, to ask what’s wrong, but at this point everything feels wrong so he looks away. He wanders down to the cliff’s edge, staring down into the water for a moment before he sits, legs dangling over the side. He finally hears the sound of the camera clicking before Will walks over to join him.

“What’re you thinking about?” he asks as he sits, setting the camera down behind them, warmth pressing into Mike’s side. He doesn’t ask what’s wrong? and Mike loves him for it.

Mike shrugs, eyes fixed on the horizon, light rapidly fading. “You know what happened here.” He remembers, so vividly, the feeling of plummeting past rock toward deadly hard water. He remembers how he hadn’t screamed until he stopped falling. He remembers thinking, this is it. This is how I die. We’ll never find Will. I’ll never see him again.

He remembers watching the firemen pulling Will’s body out of the water, too, the plummeting of his heart and hope. He remembers how hard he had cried that night—only rivaled by the night El disappeared. He remembers how awful this place feels.

Will’s hand presses between his shoulder blades, over his coat, firm and grounding in a way that Mike finds so ironic for the boy who never goes a month without slipping into another dimension. “Yeah. I know.” He’s silent for a moment. Then the hand comes away from Mike’s back and he takes his hand. “That’s why I wanted to come here.”

And Mike already knows. He knows that this is the place that he thought he’d lost Will forever, that this is the place he thought he’d die in. He knows that the stories give Will nightmares—normal ones, not visions, but they’re just as bad. He already knows why Will brought him here, because Will always knows how to take something ugly and turn it into something beautiful.

So Mike squeezes Will’s hand. It’s comfortable, familiar, and something shifts in his chest because everyone around them seems to think that it shouldn’t be. They’ve been like this for at least three years, probably much longer. But there isn’t a clear “like this”, they just… are. It doesn’t make any sense, and the question pops into his head, unbidden: What are we?

He’s not going to ask it; he doesn’t want to burden Will with anything else. It’s not the same as him and El were—it can’t be. And Mike knows that he loves Will, thinks he loves him like that, but Will’s the one who can read minds, not the other way around. And the way Will acts around him, Mike sometimes thinks he feels the same, though he can’t be sure. But Will hears him.

“I don’t know,” he says out loud. His grip tightens on Mike’s hand. “I don’t know what we are.” He looks at Mike, and Mike can see the fear shining in his green eyes. “Do you?”

Mike thinks about lying—but Will would know, anyway, and Mike doesn’t need to lie to him anymore. “No. But we can figure it out.”

“Figure it out,” Will repeats, and suddenly Mike sees it: he recognizes the feeling of his stomach flipping and his eyes going wide when Will grabs his hand. He recognizes how electric Will makes him feel when he just walks nearby. He recognizes that he loves Will, because he’s dazzling and bright and so brilliant. He’s brilliant, and it burns. It burns and burns until the darkness is forced out and the heat settles until it’s a comfortable warmth. And he recognizes that they’re teenagers, that it’s still a little early to experience love, especially for the second time around, but that doesn’t change that it is what it is. This is El all over again but different, because this is a boy, this is Will, and it’s beautiful—he’s beautiful.

“Yeah,” Mike says. “But if it changes anything, I think I love you.”

Will’s eyes still look afraid, but he smiles. I’m not in your head all the time, he tells Mike. I don’t like it. It reminds me of Him. So I wasn’t sure. “It changes a lot of things,” he says out loud. “Because I know I love you.”

Mike’s not sure who initiates it, but then they kiss, legs dangling off the cliff—and isn’t that a great metaphor? Just a little past crazy, but they’re crazy together—as their fingers clutch onto collars and sleeves. Mike’s hands come up to the back of Will’s neck, sliding into his hair, pulling him even closer. Something about this kiss feels different from electric, almost more like pure ozone has settled over his skin, and he’s buzzing with it. He’s warmed to the bone, and he hopes, in a part of his brain not lost in a fog, that Will feels it too. He doesn’t deserve to be cold. Will fumbles with something behind him for a moment before lifting the camera, somehow managing to take a picture without dropping it or pulling away from Mike. And, hell, if Mike doesn’t love him.

I still don’t know what we are, Mike thinks, opening the doors and letting Will into his head. He doesn’t know because he doesn’t know what they can be, what they’re allowed to be. But then Will pulls back an infinitesimal amount, his heavy breath tickling Mike’s lips.

“We can be whatever we want,” he says, barely a whisper. “We don’t need permission. We can do anything we want.”

Mike kisses him again, short and sweet. “Anything,” he echoes, smiling, hand still on Will’s neck and pulling him in again. “I like that.”

They keep on like that for so long that they end up only having two pictures from that night— one of Mike, from behind, sitting on the cliff’s edge as the light fades, and one of them kissing as the stars come out, angle tilted—but it’s enough to know that Mike doesn’t hate the quarry as much as he used to. Like he said, Will has always turned terrible things beautiful.

It’s November, autumn is turning to winter, Mike’s in love, and he knows that everything is different.

I hope everyone enjoyed! Reviews are, as always, appreciated. Find me on Ao3 here (and again, go read Mishi's stuff because it's awesome!)

Thanks for reading, everyone!

~Logan