#i do need to make an inventory of what books from that old shelf simply need to Go.

[violasmirabiles]

apartment update: still no pictures cos everythings still Ass but that old desk of my sister in laws thats very nice and all but kind of in the way is gonna go to my old room in my parents house. and in its place im gonna get my old bookshelf from my old room. in my parents house

[literaticat]

Hi! Is it just my local bookstores or is it suuuper difficult for books to stay in stock (physically in stores) if they are not frontlist? I feel like I've seen so many books come out and do really well, but if they're not classics or enduring BookTok phenomenons like Colleen Hoover/Emily Henry/that ice hockey book, they just disappear from physical shelves after a year and can only be ordered online? So confused!

Well -- bookstores usually only have so much shelf space, right? And new books come out every week. So it stands to reason that what takes up much of the shelf space is frontlist (new books!) -- and backlist that sells consistently.

I would suggest you read this old blog post of mine: "Think Like a Bookseller: On Turns, and Returns" if you really want to get into the weeds on it, but the most relevant part about Inventory Turn I'll put here if you're not in a clicking mood:

"Turn" is how often inventory sells and must be replaced. It is extremely important to turn books relatively briskly. This isn't a museum where books are simply on display! Sitting inventory is not making money, turning inventory keeps the lights on. [. . .] Your book is paying rent for its space on the shelf. Let's say that the average book in the section needs to sell or "turn" about 4 copies a year; that means "rent" is about .10 cents per day for an $8.99 paperback, .25 cents per day for a $21.99 hardcover. If the book isn't moving fast enough to pay that, it will eventually get returned to the publisher.

How the correct turn is calculated is a math problem I get into more in that post -- but turn needed per section will be different for every section of the store, and for every store that exists. A huge store might have a different average turn rate than a tiny store -- a store that specializes in X-type of books will have a different turn rate for that section than other sections -- etc.

The POINT is: If a book IS turning the appropriate number of copies a year, of course, it will keep getting restocked until such time as it STOPS "paying rent" for its shelf-space. And SOME books -- certain real classics for example -- might be kept on the shelf even if they AREN'T making rent, just because a bookseller knows they NEED to have those books. But those titles are pretty few and far-between -- if we kept every book on the shelf because *nostalgia*, the store would swiftly run out of room!

ETA, PSA: Somebody on Bluesky reminded me to remind you: If you don't see a book you want on the shelf of your local bookstore, PLEASE DO ask them to order it for you! Most bookstores can get just about any book that is in print within a week or so (sometimes even faster). And if there is demand for a title/author/type of book, they WILL take note of that and want to re-stock it!

[nickgerlich]

The Price Is Right

Once upon a time, grocery stores paid employees to either apply price stickers to each can, bottle, and box, or use a handy little tool to stamp the price on the package. It took a lot of time, but since cashiers had no way of knowing prices—short of memorizing them—it had to be done. Things got complicated when prices rose, because then new numbers had to be affixed to packaging, sometimes with a higher-priced label stuck right on top of the previous.

Bar code scanners changed all that in 1974, allowing supermarkets to use shelf labels to announce the price, and the cashier to simply scan the items at check-out. It worked, and still does, as long as the item has been entered into the store’s inventory system. When prices changed, it meant having to update the database, as well as replacing old shelf labels with new.

But there is a better way, though. It’s just that they have been slow to gain traction. Until now, that is, with Walmart announcing they will roll out electronic shelf labels (ESLs) at 2300 of their stores by 2026. The ESLs can be updated remotely, meaning that the database and shelves can be done simultaneously. It will no doubt make life a lot easier for Walmart and its employees.

And that’s where things can get interesting. The ability to change prices at any given moment means that Walmart and any other retailer could—not saying they would, necessarily—use surge pricing. That is when sellers jack up prices because demand is strong. It also goes by the moniker dynamic pricing.

Of course, it means that prices could be revised downward too, if conditions warrant it, like if a retailer needs to push out some merchandise for whatever reason, from freshness dates to short-term sales and sales promotions, as well as trying to close out an item.

The truth of the matter is that we have lived with some degree of dynamic pricing for years. It explains why shopping for airline tickets is better on Tuesdays (that’s what I hear, anyway). It’s why hotels typically cost more on weekends. It’s why some gas stations charge more in the morning, when people who forgot to get gas the night before are suddenly panicking.

As a traveler, I have learned how to play this game. It’s almost like gambling, though, because sometimes I win, sometimes I lose. I typically do not make hotel reservations until day-of, unless I have knowledge that rooms might be in short supply. For example, on this trip west, I did not reserve my room in Albuquerque until Monday morning. I had started my search the day before, though, and already knew that rooms were running about $200 a night, typical for summer.

I rolled the dice and waited 24 hours, hoping that their bookings would not be high. I won the bet, and got a Homewood Suites for $160. But if I were planning to return in October for Balloon Fiesta, I would book now, knowing they will likely be at or near full occupancy then, with prices increasing as the supply of rooms decreases.

But back to Walmart. Again, I am not saying they will do devious things, but the ability to do so—whether them our any other retailer—exists. Imagine this scenario: The National Weather Service announces a blizzard is likely in two days. We all know this causes people to desire French Toast, so everyone is going to load up on bread, eggs, and milk. This would be a great time to raise the prices of those in-demand items, along with others that their in-house research could easily show to be popular when bad weather is in the forecast.

This has already been done around the world with soft drink vending machines, raising prices during the day when demand is high, and reducing them at night when sales are low. You could do the same when it is exceptionally hot or cold. Nefarious? Perhaps, but then again, isn’t pretty much everything we do intricately tied to supply and demand?

Personally, I like this effort. The academic in me would almost pay good money to work with Walmart to study consumer behavior and price sensitivities. Imagine all the data! Imagine all of the journal articles to be written!

But then again, the consumer in me harbors some concerns about folks in an office somewhere—either upstairs at the store, or at HQ—yanking my chain and messing with me. It would be a huge twisted game of The Price Is Right, in which the retailer is constantly trying to figure out the right price to maximize their returns. You thought you knew your prices. They could change that on a whim.

Hang on to your wallets. This could get interesting.

Dr “The Price Of Technology” Gerlich

Audio Blog

[hi-5-sunflower]

Saeed's intro

I did a post recently of the book's first chapter, which is Laura's introduction. However, since our other main protagonist, Saeed, doesn't come in until chapter seven, I'm jumping ahead to his intro to let the people of writeblr get to know this alchemist buddy a little bit 🙂

Length: 1,300 words

Summary: Saeed works on a potion to compete with his best friend for a permanent job as an alchemist.

Content warnings: Mention of illness. None others that I'm aware of (but please let me know if you think any need to be added!)

Saeed Azhari hardly saw where he was going as he made his way upstairs to the alchemy lab, his mind working like a colony of ants.

Stripewood bark has some anti-inflammatory properties, he thought, running a hand through his shaggy, overgrown hair. Might be a good addition to the sunleaf mixture.

The tiny lab was quiet when he arrived, and he took his preferred spot in the rear corner, close to the supply cupboard. He flipped open his pack to retrieve a stack of scribbled notes from inside before letting it drop at the foot of his stool.

A gray tabby cat leapt onto the long table to greet him, staring at him with huge green eyes.

“Hi, Quicksilver,” said Saeed.

He stroked the top of her head, and she responded with a purr, spinning around leisurely. Then he spent a few minutes absently gathering supplies for the day, considering the herb ratios for his potion. As he returned to his seat, the door swung open.

Tavi’s face was lit up in a broad grin as she strolled in. “Morning, Sai.”

“Hey. You’re in a good mood today.”

“Of course I am,” she said. “You do know what today is, don’t you?”

Saeed considered it, half panicking for a second that he’d forgotten her birthday. But no, that had been a few months ago. “Uh...sweetbread day in the dining hall?”

“No, silly.” She flopped her bag down onto her end of the table. “Today marks exactly one month until Emberhawk officially hires me.”

“Oh yeah,” said Saeed, his own lips quirking up. “Except I think you meant to say, until Emberhawk gives you the boot.”

“Ha!” Tavi casually tossed her burgundy braid back over her shoulder. “Honestly, you might want to spend today packing your bags. This thing is as good as done.”

“We’ll see about that.”

She was right about one thing anyway: the end of their year-long apprenticeship with Emberhawk Alchemy was rapidly approaching. At its end awaited a permanent, well-paying alchemist position with the company—but only one. Both of them had impressive achievements under their belts. The remaining question was which of them would come out on top.

Saeed pored over his notes for a few minutes as Tavi got settled. He’d been thinking about his current project—a cough remedy—nonstop, and he had some new ideas to try out.

Maybe a little more sunleaf this time. He shredded the herb by hand, staining his tawny fingers a yellowish green, and piled the foliage into his alembic. Fragrant vapors issued from the device as the mix simmered.

Most days, he and Tavi worked as lab assistants, running errands for the alchemy team, taking inventory, and performing repetitious production tasks. Today, however, was what they called a “free day”—a day off from their scheduled assignments, usually granted once or twice a week, in which they got to utilize this cramped little lab to conduct their own projects.

Simply put, these were the days that really counted. Here was the space in which they could prove their personal worth in potioncraft.

“How’s it going with the endurance tonic?” Saeed asked, his cheek resting on his palm while he waited for his concoction to distill.

“Could be better, actually,” said Tavi. “I had to scrap the recipe I was working on. We’re all out of lion blossom.” She rolled her eyes.

Saeed sympathized with that. Their limited access to materials was the one big stumbling block of the apprenticeship. Particularly with more expensive ingredients, they were allotted minimal amounts to work with, if any, so they had to ration carefully.

In fact, that was the primary challenge of his cough remedy project. Lyusk root was well-known to be highly effective for respiratory ailments—particularly this new, stubborn one, to which Saeed’s own brother had recently fallen victim—but there was never any of the root in their supply cupboard.

He’d just have to find an alternative.

And he would. One way or another.

Tavi stripped the husks off some chiba stalks, leaving green stains on her long fingers to match the ones on Saeed’s shorter human ones. As a member of the Jirian race, Tavi had a physique naturally built for arboreal life: remarkably long fingers and toes, effective for branch-gripping, and a prehensile simian tail. Their skin came in an array of grays, and Tavi’s complexion was a pale shade reminiscent of a dawn sky. Her burgundy hair was bound, like most days, into a single plait hanging down her back.

Saeed returned his attention to his notes for another quick review, then stood up and made for the supply cupboard again.

The shelves of the narrow closet were lined with jars and sacks of herbs, minerals, and brightly colored concentrates. Just standing in here, breathing in the cacophony of herbal scents, sent a thrill through his veins. Despite their complaints about the limits upon them, they still had a good variety of ingredients to experiment with.

Now, to find that stripewood. The S’s were on the lower shelves, which was convenient, as Saeed was rather short. There you are. He plucked a jar off the shelf. Curls of shredded brown bark filled it halfway, and Saeed unscrewed the lid, gingerly extracting a few pieces.

He closed his palm around them, focusing. In this dead and dried form, there was only a trace of its original life energy left within it, but it was there, and he could feel it if he really concentrated. He let his mind go quiet, let the little shavings tell him what their purpose was.

Its essence, once brought out, would provide a mild soothing effect, but without numbing. Just what I need. He sent a wave of gratitude to the bark before heading back to the table to put it to use.

In his peripheral vision, Tavi was scribbling away, making that face she always did when she was deep in her tasks, with her eyebrows furrowed and the end of her tongue sticking out. He set to work, smiling to himself.

Starting with their first alchemy lesson when they were just eleven years old, the two of them had shared a fascination for potion making, matched only by their drive to outdo one another every step of the way. They had something of a code between them: no cheating, no sabotage, and no being a sore loser. Even as teens, they’d adhered to that code strictly.

Most of the time, anyway.

Saeed used a mortar and pestle to grind the stripewood bark into a coarse powder before stirring it into the sunleaf mixture. Then he shuffled through his notes again, resenting the fact that he could barely read his own handwriting.

“Sai,” said Tavi, nodding toward his equipment, “let me borrow that quarterspoon really quick.”

He slid the little measuring scoop down the table to her.

“Thanks.”

They spoke little over the course of the next few hours, and Tavi wrapped up her day by transferring her potion-in-progress into a brass storage urn. Saeed did the same with his own product. Soon he’d need to find time to run safety testing on the potion, but he felt good about what he’d come up with today. He hummed a little tune as he set to putting away supplies.

“I see that cocky look on your face,” said Tavi, smirking as she came up beside him.

Saeed shot her a look of feigned indignance. “Who, me?”

“Yes, you.” Tavi gave him a playful shove. “Don’t you worry, I’ve still got some good ideas to try out.”

“We’ll see about that,” said Saeed. They walked back to the table together, and as Saeed prepared to pack up, he noticed a few greenish potion droplets on his notes. The ink smudged as he tried to wipe it dry.

We’ll see.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thanks for reading! And as usual, here's the tumblr link to the book's full intro for anybody new to the story!

You can also buy a copy for 99 cents (USD)!

Tag list: @thelaughingstag @a-completely-normal-writer

[teriwrites]

Swindler of Fortune

The coin wells were empty.

I stared dumbly into the cash register. They’d been full that morning, that much I was certain of. I myself had blindly emptied several rolls in my mad dash to open the store on time. 

What can I say? Even wizards sleep in sometimes.

But business had been slow, and even on heavy days, we usually didn’t get enough cash transactions to clear out the whole register. 

“Natalie?” I called, hoping she hadn’t left for the night.

I didn’t suspect her of stealing, of course, but she usually handled the front during weekdays. Thankfully, she was still in the back. I watched the doors swing open, and her bun bobbed just over the tops of shelves as she made her way over. 

“What’s up?” she asked as she reached the front, leaning down onto the counter to meet me at eye level. I rolled my eyes at the gesture.

“Did somebody exchange a large bill for coins?” I motioned towards the empty wells. “Because we’re all out.”

Natalie frowned as she pushed herself upright. “No. I actually had to empty a roll of quarters about an hour before closing. Why, have we been robbed?”

“If we were, it was by the dumbest thief alive.” As Natalie cocked an eyebrow, I went on. “All the bills are accounted for.”

For several moments, we puzzled over it, but it was late, and I think we both knew no questions were going to be answered without effort. And that wasn’t happening after closing. This was a problem for another day.

So I dumped a couple new rolls into the register and decided to call it a night.

The next day was a Friday, which meant more business. After a quick check to confirm that the coins were still in their place, I flipped the sign on the door to ‘Open’ and welcomed the start of a new day. 

Natalie was working inventory, so she hung in the back while I held down the front of the store. Rolling up the sleeves of my cardigan, I took in a deep breath and channeled my Manager alter ego - a mix of Customer Service feigned cheer with enough of an edge to hold some of the more entitled customers at bay. 

Our first customer rolled in around 9:30. My back was turned as the bell rang out, but the excitement emanating from Nathaniel as he ran laps around my back clued me into their identity.

I spun on my heel to see an old man wrapped up in dark furs and a matching cap step over the threshold. A green parrot sat on his shoulder, wearing its own tiny hat.

“Mike!” My Customer Service smile eased into a genuine grin as I greeted one of my favorite regulars.

“Ms. Kim, hello!” When Mike spoke, it was with his familiar, thick Russian accent. I wasn’t sure exactly when he had immigrated to Canada, but he’d been coming into the store as long as I could remember, back when I was just a kid helping my dad restock shelves. Even back then, he’d struck me as remarkably old. 

“I haven’t heard from you in awhile. I was beginning to fear the worst.” It was a half-joke, but before the mood could darken, I shook my head dramatically. “I thought you might’ve decided to turn to one of our competitors.”

Mike chuckled as he pulled his hat from his head, but his parrot cut in before he could protest. “Enough with the pleasantries! We’re here on business!”

Nathaniel had run down the length of my sleeve and was tugging it down my arm to press closer to the bird. I leaned forward onto the counter, and the parrot eyed my embroidered dragon cautiously.

“That’s a cute hat you got there, Charon.” I shot the parrot a wink and pushed myself back up. “What is it I can get for you today, Mike?”

“Do you have any tongue of frog in stock?” he asked as he brushed snow from his hat. 

I wasn’t sure, but I promised to check in with Natalie. As I made my way back to the storage room, I found her crouched in one of the aisles, gathering some nonalcoholic liquid courage to restock.

“Hey, do you have any tongue of frog marked up on there?”

The face Natalie made answered my question. “You actually stock frog tongues?”

“Spells, enchanted items, charms - ”

“Whatever your wandering, wayfaring wizard may need, I know,” she finished, nodding along dramatically. “But frog tongues?”

“If you heard all of the ingredients that go into those bottles” - I nudged my chin towards the liquid courage - “it’d make your hair curl. Not that it needs the help.”

Natalie smacked me with her clipboard before jutting her hand out for some help up. 

I had been working alongside Natalie for a few months now, but there were still areas of the store that I hadn’t acquainted her with. Some wizards would’ve scrunched up their noses at my more repellent products, so I was not keen to show them off to an unprepared Typic. 

Most potion ingredients sat in a medicine cabinet towards the front of the store, but it could hardly fit everything. The rest was tucked away into a side room - a pantry, really - hiding in the back corner. Pulling my keyring from my pocket, I shuffled through several before I landed on the right one.

Dust had collected on most of the shelves in the pantry. I had no excuse for its state; there simply wasn’t enough of a reason to come back here unless someone requested it. A single, flickering lightbulb hanging from the ceiling dimly lit the small space. 

I turned away from Natalie to fetch the jar labeled ‘tongue of frog’. After I’d snatched it up, I looked back to see her curiously scanning the shelves. Before I could say anything, her hand darted out and grabbed something. 

Holding it out to me, I could barely make out its label: newt eyes.

“Other friends of yours?” she joked.

I brushed past her as she replaced the jar on the shelf. “Of yours, actually.”

Carrying the jar back to the front, I watched as Mike perused some of the inventory up front with vague amusement. Charon was whispering something in his ear. Evidently it was something rude; Mike reprimanded the bird harshly in Russian.

“One tongue of frog,” I announced as I stepped behind the counter. 

“You have new merchandise, Ms. Kim,” Mike pointed out as he dug through his pockets. “I didn’t even know there were spells for maintaining battery life.”

“Yeah, well, some companies intentionally provide weak batteries to make you replace your phone after a couple years. This cheat seems the lesser of the two evils.” I rested my elbows on the top of the register as I watched Mike stack the contents of his pocket onto the countertop. Books, empty potion bottles, a pair of gloves. After withdrawing a black notebook with an engraved monogram and a full-sized human skull, he finally pulled out his wallet.

I had to ask him what spell he used to get that kind of pocket space. 

“Working another case?” I nodded at the notebook as I rang up his order. “I thought you’d retired, Mike.”

“I owed an old colleague a favor,” Mike admitted gruffly. “The police asked him for assistance on a case, and he referred them to me.”

He sounded none too happy about it. 

Mike passed me cash, and I opened the register. As soon as the drawer sprung open, I realized with a jolt that the change was missing again. Surely, nobody could’ve snatched it up without being seen. I could’ve trusted Mike with the entire store while I was in the back, and Natalie had been with me the entire time. 

“Is there a problem?” Mike asked, straightening up to peer over the counter.

I unlocked the cupboard with extra change and fished out a roll of loonies. “No problem, just ran out of change.”

I handed over his change and the jar without a bag, knowing he wouldn’t need one. When he’d taken both from me, he simply slid them into his pockets. With a quick nod and a small lift of his cap, Mike stepped back out into the cold. 

Only after Mike had left did I notice Natalie crouching by the first row of shelves. She clutched her clipboard to her chest, staring in horror at the door the old man had just left through.

“Was that man carrying a human skull?”

I dismissed her concern with a wave of my hand. “Mike’s a necromancer. That’s pretty normal for him.”

My reassurance might’ve eased Natalie’s nerves, but they simply shifted from fear into disgust. “Aren’t those people supposed to raise the dead and all that? Gross.”

“It’s a little more delicate than that. There’s a whole structure of ethical guidelines in that field. Full revival is prohibited, so usually it’s just gathering details on how the person died. I don’t know the ins and outs of it, though. I’ve never had the stomach for that stuff.”

“So you’re telling me there’s a whole slew of magical careers out there, and I got stuck working for the shopkeep?” 

I rolled my eyes as I walked away, leaving Natalie laughing on the floor. 

Saturday morning, I arrived extra early at the store. I told myself it was to make up for the fact that Natalie only worked weekdays and I would be running everything myself. But really, the first thing I did when I arrived was beeline for the cash register.

Everything had been in place the night before. After Mike’s incident, nothing had gone missing, and the rest of the day ran smoothly. I was secretly hoping that the problem would go away on its own if I just refused to acknowledge it. But I could only lose so many more rolls before making another trip to the bank, and I’m pretty sure the teller I always ran into was a vampire. Either that or there was some other reason he always stared at my neck when I was making deposits. 

Either way, not an experience I was eager to have again.

My key slid into the lock for the register, and I made a silent wish as I twisted it open.

The coin wells were empty.

I let out a frustrated shout as I tore the key out of the lock. This couldn’t keep happening. My store did well - my spot in downtown Trelis earned me good foot traffic, and our regulars were loyal - but I couldn’t afford the constant losses. 

There was only one answer. I would have to investigate. If I kept a careful eye on the full register, the thief would have to reveal themselves eventually. 

To refill the coins, I opened up the cupboard, only to find that it, too, had been ransacked. Every roll of coins had been torn to shreds, with scraps of paper left littering the cabinet. 

I felt bad for texting Natalie on her day off, but I had no other choice. I couldn’t both look into a robbery and ring up transactions. So, whipping out my phone, I shot her a text asking if she’d be able to make it down the store, preferably before it opened.

Fifteen minutes later, Natalie was at the front door, rapping against the glass. I unlocked it for her.

“More was taken?” she asked, pulling her mittens from her hands.

“Both the register and the cupboard are empty.” I groaned, draping myself over the front counter. “I’m at a loss.”

What kind of thief was this, who would ignore the higher-value bills and waste time tearing through paper to get at the coins? Who could somehow get around the store without being seen? Were we dealing with an advanced invisibility spell? Some pocket portal that could reach directly into the register? A clever magpie?

I dragged myself over the counter, nearly hitting my head against the back cabinet as I clambered ungracefully down. Landing in a heap on the ground, I found myself staring closeup at a pencil shaving. I frowned; the only pencils we kept in the front were mechanical. 

Sitting up, I pinched the tiny shaving from the ground and ran it between my fingers. It was then that I realized my mistake. The scrap wasn’t a pencil shaving, it was one of the shreds of torn paper from the cabinet. 

Natalie yelped as I threw myself back to the ground, eyes close to the floor. A moment passed in silence as I scanned for more shreds of paper. Though Natalie kept quiet, I could feel her piecing together what I’d found. 

She found the next scrap, pointing to it with her foot. As we began to follow a small trail of torn paper, I scurried along at a crawl. Less inclined to make a fool of herself, Natalie chose to walk.

The paper led to the back of the store, into a small hole in the wall that I’d never noticed, half-hidden behind a shelf. I didn’t dare reach into it, but shining the flashlight from my phone revealed only a long tunnel. Something glinted from a distance, but it was too far to make anything out. Whatever was back there was hidden somewhere in the wall of the potion pantry. 

It took a minute to find the key for the pantry, and another several to scan along the wall. But I finally found what I was looking for. Really, I shouldn’t take the credit. Natalie found it, helping me push aside a cabinet to reveal the door to a crawl space I’d never seen before. 

It was easy to overlook, a tiny door tucked away into the back corner of a room I rarely entered. But I immediately recognized with some satisfaction that its lock seemed to match a key on my keyring. The only key I’d never found a use for. It had always been there, since my father had wielded the ring, but I’d never thought to ask him what it was for. 

Now, with certainty, I tugged the key loose and shoved it into the lock.

Sure enough, the key turned, and, with Natalie flashing her phone towards the crawl space, I tugged the door open.

Sitting inside, on a veritable mountain of spare change, was a dragon the size of a coffee mug. 

I froze, not exactly sure how to react. Behind me, Natalie dropped her phone, and the dim lighting in the room was only enough to catch a glimpse of its sleek scales. After a second to recover from the shock, I began to move.

I’ve faced my fair share of house pests, and this was no different. Throwing my arm behind me, I latched onto the handle of a broom that had collected more dust sitting in its corner than it had ever swept in its life. Keeping my eyes trained on the dragon, I brought it forwards and prodded lightly at the small reptile.

The dragon snapped at the broom, as I’d expected. Natalie was apparently less prepared; I could hear the jars clinking lightly as she backed into a cabinet. As the little pest’s jaw clenched down, I carefully lifted it from its hoard. 

“Get me an empty jar,” I whispered over my shoulder.

Natalie fetched one, and hurried out of the room as soon as I’d taken it. The jug was large enough to fit the dragon snugly, but it would hold the thing until I could find a place to let it loose.

Out in the light of the store, I inspected the little pest. He had dark, reddish-brown scales and golden eyes that shone with what I could’ve mistaken for intelligence. As I studied him, he seemed to be sizing me up as well.

Natalie, having overcome her shock and seeing that the dragon was contained, ran over. With wide eyes, she reached out and tapped a finger against the glass. The dragon turned to her, staring up with what I swear was feigned innocence.

“We should keep him!” 

It was just about the last thing I expected to come out of her mouth.

“You want to keep a dragon?” I needed to get my hearing checked. Wasn’t this the woman that had nearly screamed on spotting the little guy only a minute ago?

“He’s adorable!” she insisted, reaching out to take the jar from me. “I’ve never seen a real dragon before. I was always told they don’t exist.”

What else didn’t Typics know existed? Did they think pigeons were fake, too?

“We could keep him in the shop, and he could help guard the door!” Natalie suggested, beaming like she was holding a newborn puppy. She was already tenderly cradling the jar. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.

“Guard us from what?” I demanded. “The only thief I’ve had since I took over this store is him.”

But I knew from Natalie’s enraptured expression that she wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

I had heard of dragons being domesticated before. They were said to make excellent pets, given proper care. But there was no telling which breed this one was. Knowing my luck, he’d grow into a five-meter beast that’d fill up a whole aisle. 

“I’m calling him Midas,” Natalie announced.

And I knew any arguing was hopeless.

We now had a guard dragon.

[a-deadly-serenade]

Alchemy Between You & Me: Chapter 2: Sulfur [Guy of Gisborne/Reader]

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27362053/chapters/66860944

chapter below the cut.

chapter 1: arsenic

The following morning you awoke with a start. Someone was rapping on your chamber door.

Hastily wrapping your blanket around yourself, you heed their call, albeit begrudgingly. There’s a clear grimace on your face as you peer at the guard that stood at the ready for your answer and he bows before you.

“Good morning, my lady. I’m sorry to disturb you, but the sheriff requires your presence in his quarters.”

“At this hour?” you replied dryly. With a sigh, you give him a nod of your head. “I’ll be with you shortly,” you excused yourself and slipped the dress from the night before over your chemise.

You made a mental note to peruse the seamstresses and fabric sellers in the area later. If you were going to stay here, you could at least keep up with the latest fashions.

After fixing your hair and splashing some cold water on your face, you exited your room and started to follow the guard that walked down the halls with post-haste.

Several winding hallways later and you stood in front of a large wooden door that had two more soldiers posted on either side as watchmen. They each gave a nod to the guard that escorted you and together, pushed open the door to the sheriff’s quarters.

The room was large and furnished with an enormous desk made of a dark, almost black colored wood. A fireplace stood nearby, the logs burning in the hearth crackling away. Several bookshelves were placed around the room, all of them packed with various maps and tomes, and curiously, there was an assortment of birdcages.

You peered up at the tiny, straw things, each of them filled with a variety of songbirds and finches. Their tiny, peeping cries mingled with the sound of the town below as folks prepared their wares for the morning market.

The sheriff was seated at his desk, scribbling away on a large piece of parchment with a rather ridiculously oversized quill.

Sir Guy stood beside him and you felt your heart flutter at his acknowledging smile. He cleared his throat and tapped the sheriff on the shoulder.

“My lord, she’s arrived.”

His head instantly snapped up and his eyes widened in delight. “Indeed she has,” he said and gave you a crooked smile. “Thank you,” he addressed the guard. “You may leave us.”

The soldier bowed before the sheriff and took his leave, closing the doors behind him with a loud slam.

“You’re probably wondering why I summoned you here, my dear,” he said and ushered you forward with a beckon of his hand.

You took the few tentative steps forward to reach the edge of his desk and he gave you another smile.

“There’s no need to look so worried,” he assured. “I merely wanted to check-in, see how things are going.”

“Check-in?” you repeated, absolutely dumbfounded. You’d been taken from your studies, only to be dropped off on this conniving little man’s doorstep as his upcoming entertainment and he wanted to know how you were doing?

You were in such shock that you couldn’t even bring yourself to think of a reply, so the sheriff took your silence as his cue to continue.

“I trust that your room is to your satisfaction? I tried my best to find one that’d be easy for you to find. Can’t have my alchemist accidentally wandering off somewhere unsavory now can we?”

You coughed up a weary laugh in response. “Yes, I’ll admit, it’s going to take some getting used to, but I’ll manage.”

“Good,” he nodded. “I hear that Gisborne offered to give you the grand tour, hmm?” he chuckled. “I bet it’s high time you see where it is you’ll be working.”

“I’ll be working here? In the castle?” you raise an eyebrow up at him skeptically.

“Of course. Guy will show you,” he said and flourished his hand up at Gisborne. “Oh, and while you’re out,” he added. “Perhaps you could take the lovely young lady shopping? I doubt she’s keen to join your club of wearing the same dreary thing every day.”

You noticed Guy roll his eyes but he nodded his head at the sheriff’s request. “Very well,” he said and turned to face you.

His expression softened significantly and he gave you another smile. “If you would follow me, my lady,”

Giving the sheriff a curtsy, you quickly departed his office and let out a long sigh of relief as you walked out into the hallway.

There was just something about that man… he was so unsettling to be around!

A gentle hand outstretched onto your shoulder and you craned your neck up to look at Guy.

“I could show you to the lab first if you wish.”

Your interest is immediately peaked and your eyes light up as you smile brightly. “Lab? There’s a lab in the castle?”

He chuckled and started to lead the way, keeping his pace slow and leisurely. “Of course. Where else would you work?”

“To be perfectly honest, I hadn’t the slightest clue what entailed working as the sheriff’s personal alchemist,” you said lightly. “For a moment, I presumed he’d have me presiding over some rubble in the hopes that I’d turn it to gold.”

Guy chuckled. “That’d be quite the trick,” he said and you felt your cheeks burn under his stare. “But, the sheriff has proved himself to be a man of many interests and his pursuit of alchemy has always been on the more scientific side.”

“Really? I find that surprising. Most nobles only attach alchemy with the ridiculous notion of chrysopoeia. What makes the sheriff so different?”

“He’s seen what real alchemy can do,” Guy said and paused before a wrought iron door. With a tug of the large, circular doorknob, you are greeted with a wondrous sight.

The room was gigantic. Long wooden shelves hung suspended in the air by ropes, each one of them packed to the brim with all sorts of paraphernalia. Tall, curved windows allowed slits of sunlight to breach through the darkness of the stone castle and you gasped in delight.

Running over to more closely inspect the ingredients and tools, you were pleasantly surprised that Guy had been right with his assessment of the sheriff. Most of the jars were filled with a variety of herbs, gemstones, powders, and liquids. It was a bit of a mess, and a great deal of dust had settled over the room from unuse but… you could definitely make do with this.

“What do you think?” Guy wondered.

“It needs a bit of work to get back to its former glory, but,” your lips split into another grin as you discovered a few tomes tucked between some flasks. “This is more than I could have hoped for,”

Guy’s boots clicked softly against the stone floor as he made his way towards you. “I’m glad. Do you think you’ll have everything you need? I know it’s been awhile since anyone has worked here.”

“I’ll have to take inventory of everything that’s here,” you replied. “Which… may take a while.”

“I should leave you to it then,” he said and bowed before you. “While you’re working, I’ll have someone head to the market and fetch you some clothes.”

“Oh, there’s no need to do that. I can do it myself—”

“Nonsense,” he interrupted with a smile. “It’s no trouble, really. Is there any particular style that you’d prefer?”

“No,” you chuckled. “As long as I get something to wear other than this,” you gesture to your worn-out gown. “I’ll be content. At least tell me that you’ll accept any payments I forward for your generosity.”

“That won’t be necessary. Your parents already forwarded more than enough money to help pay for your keep, not that they needed to, as the sheriff was more than happy having you simply work here in the castle.”

“Oh…” you replied and disappointment flashed across your face. They really had been planning for this to happen all along, hadn’t they?

You felt a hand on your shoulder and jumped, heat rising to your cheeks when you realized how close Guy stood before you.

“Work should help take your mind off things,” he replied with a sympathetic smile.

“Yes… you make a good point, Sir Guy,” you reached up and gave his arm a squeeze, grateful for not only his company but his friendship as well.

His eyes widened slightly at the gesture and he retracted his hand as he cleared his throat. “The sheriff will most likely stop by at some point, to check on your progress. I’m not sure when he expects you to begin work on the black powder, but he is not a man that likes to be kept waiting.”

You frowned and heaved a heavy sigh. “I’ll see what I can do.”

With one final curtsy, Guy exited the lab, leaving you alone to begin the arduous work of whipping this place back into shape.

Rolling up your sleeves, you managed to find some old rags nestled on a shelf and after pounding them out one of the windows, you got to it. The amount of dust in the room frankly astonished you and it took a good few hours to simply wipe everything down.

Wiping some sweat off your brow, you checked over the flasks and tools you had let sit in a vat of warm saltwater. It seemed to be doing the trick, years of grime easily sloughing off the glass and metal and turning the water a nasty brown. It had to be changed several times till they were cleaned to your satisfaction and when they were done soaking, you laid them out on one of the desks to let them dry.

To the surprise of no one, it took you the most time to sort through all of the materials that had accumulated here since the last alchemist. A majority of the items were useful, powders, and caustic liquids that could be used in your research. However, a fair amount of it proved to be nothing more than junk and near the end of your sifting, there was a fairly large pile haphazardly strewn about near the door.

The one thing that did catch you by surprise, was the wide array of books that had been preserved. They were legitimate books on alchemy and you started to wonder how the sheriff acquired these. Most alchemists were hellbent on only ever sharing their texts with fellow researchers as it took so long to produce the images, the decknamen, that hide the secret code of their formulas. These were all wonderfully done and although you could decipher most of them, there were a few that caught your eye as you flipped through the pages and you made a mental note to revisit them for further analysis.

You’re broken out of your reverie by the sound of the heavy door being pulled open and in walked the sheriff, one of his guards trailing closely behind him.

He made a face at the pile of discarded items and carefully stepped around the random objects scattered across the floor.

“Doing a little redecorating?” he teased.

“Most of that is rubbish, my lord,” you replied. “It is of no use to me.”

He glanced down at the large heap and then turned his attention back to you. “Well, well, I must say, it does please me that you’ve taken this with such stride,” he slowly walked over to you, his head turning around as he inspected the work you’d done thus far. “This place almost looks brand new.”

“I must admit, it was rather filthy,” you said and wiped your hands clean with a rag. “When was this lab last in use?”

“Oh, not for some time,” he mused and peered down at all of the flasks that lay drying. “My last alchemist preceded a pretty boy that wasn’t a pretty boy at all,” he chuckled to himself. “Although I have to admit, their alchemy was quite lovely. Tell me, have you ever heard of liquid that can melt through solid iron?”

“Sounds like aqua fortis to me,”

The sheriff beamed up at you and he clapped his hands together in delight. “Goodness me, where have you been all my life? I trust that you will begin work on the black powder that you promised, now that this place is so spick and span.”

“Of course, my lord. Curiously, the only ingredient I seem to be lacking is charcoal.”

“Charcoal?” he echoed. “Run of the mill, fire-burnt charcoal?”

“Yes,” you replied firmly. “I have everything else I need and once I have all the materials, I’ll be able to play with the ratios a bit to get the desired reaction. Did you previous alchemists really not know all this?”

“They were not you, my dear,” he replied and gave one of your arms a strong squeeze. “See to it that the lovely lady gets her charcoal,” he said to the soldier, who nodded his head and hastily made his way out of the lab. “Once everything is in place… how much do you think you’d be able to make?”

“As long as I have all the ingredients at my disposal, I can make you as much as you desire, my lord.”

His eyes lit up, like a child that’d been handed a whole pie as a treat. “Oh, you sweet girl, you will have such a remarkable future here. I’ll make sure to fetch Gisborne when he’s back from the market. He oversaw our previous efforts into concocting black powder so I believe he’ll be able to assist you in replicating the results we managed to achieve.”

“Were your previous efforts successful?”

“Mm… yes and no. He commissioned a man who turned out to have other plans,” he said, face taught and tone laced with acidity. “We ended up with nothing so, forgive me if I ever seem at all forthright in my advances to move this project along. Which reminds me…” he mused and tapped a finger to his lips. “Are you in the habit of keeping notes of your work? A ledger, perhaps?”

“Of course,” you nodded. “However, as most alchemists do, I tend to encrypt my findings, my lord.”

“Hmm, well, just for me, do you think you’d be able to keep a log of your findings so that I may peruse them at my leisure?”

“I suppose I could,” you said carefully. “Although I doubt even then, you’d be able to make much sense of it.”

“Oh, that’s quite alright,” he said with a chipper smile. “So, I doubt you’ll be able to make much progress till we’re back with that charcoal of yours. Feel free to take a stroll, occupy your time. Just make sure you stay inside the castle.”

“Yes, my lord.”

He gave you one last grin as he started to hum to himself, gleefully departing the room with an extra pip in his step.

You thought it rather odd that he should desire access to your notes. For what purpose would that serve him? Did he perhaps wish to market your formula to other lords in the shire? That wouldn’t be a bad play, he’d surely make a considerable amount of money. You could only hope that if these were his true intentions, you’d receive some of the profit as you sincerely doubted that the funds your parents sent for your keep would ever end up in anyone’s pockets but the sheriff’s.

Walking outside, you make your way through several hallways and commend yourself for finding the exit on your first try. The courtyard was mostly empty, with a few soldiers standing here or there at their posts. The portcullis was open and you could see all of the townsfolk going about their day, the busy hum of the market seeping into the quiet castle.

In fact, that is where you were headed until you noticed someone sitting on one of the stone benches that rested under a tree.

It was a woman, with beautiful, curly brown hair that rested on her shoulders. She had a fair face and bright green eyes and appeared to be working on some sort of embroidery.

You’re instantly intrigued. Who was she? She dressed far too opulent to be a servant so did she also work for the sheriff? The least you could do was introduce yourself.

You gently cleared your throat as you approached her and she lifted her head up to meet your gaze. Her lips upturned into a courteous smile and she set aside her project as she spoke up.

“Hello,” she said, her sweet voice having a lovely quality to it. “How can I help you?”

“Oh, well, I thought it pertinent to introduce myself to anyone else that I meet, since I’m the newest resident here in the castle.”

One of her finely shaped eyebrows quirked up, her curiosity peaked. “What business do you have at the castle?”

“I am the sheriff’s recently appointed alchemist.”

“Alchemist?” she gaped. “You’re an alchemist?”

“Indeed,” you replied with a nod of your head and introduced yourself.

“It’s lovely to meet you,” she replied. “I am Marian of Knighton.”

You gestured towards the bench and she immediately patted the spot beside her as she accepted your invitation to sit down.

“Knighton? Isn’t that where the former sheriff hailed from?”

“That’s my father,” she said fondly. “I find it intriguing that a woman should be a scientist, especially one that’s managed to capture the sheriff’s attention.”

“Yes well, I’m not exactly here on my own volition,” you said and laughed quietly as a weary smile spread across your face.

“That doesn’t surprise me since you’re working for the sheriff.”

You’re intrigued that she seems to share, even understand your sentiments. “Do you work for the sheriff as well?” you wondered.

“No,” she chuckled. “I… I suppose one could call me a guest if the meaning of guest has since become synonymous with hostage.”

You gasped and it was only then did she seem to register the gravity of her words.

“Forgive me,” she hastily muttered. “I speak out of turn—”

“No,” you replied. “I… this might sound strange, but… I understand how you feel.”

“You do?” she sounded genuinely surprised, but you could sense that her sincerity bordered on suspicion.

“Lady Marian, my passions lie in academia so that is where I found myself these last couple of years, studying in Italy under the guidance of fellow academics,”

“Impressive.”

You smiled and then heaved a sad sigh. “I would have been content spending the rest of my days there, relishing in new discoveries and learning as much as my heart desired. However, my parents had other plans. They’ve always been the sort to stick close to those up-in-coming to power, so it should come as no surprise that they did all they could to get into the new sheriff’s favors.”

“Are you saying that they dragged you here? To Nottingham?”

“Indeed,” you replied. “They must have surmised how beneficial my most recent undertaking could be for them since the most they probably understood about alchemy is the infamous notion of turning cheap metals into gold. I was sent back home only to be dropped off here, presented to the sheriff on a silver platter.”

Her face was creased with concern and she placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. “I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s truly an awful thing, what your parents did. I cannot imagine what that must feel like.”

You chuckled, a bitter sound that made your stomach turn as you recalled the events that took place only the night before. “I think the worst part of it all was having to find out from the sheriff that I was to be staying here.”

Marian scoffed. “They didn’t even have the courage to tell you themselves?”

“No,” you said forlornly. “I probably would have gone mad that day had it not been for Sir Guy.”

“Guy?” she echoed, her tone laced with shock.

“He’s been nothing but kind since I’ve arrived,” you said and a smile curled at the ends of your lips. However, you picked up on the change in her voice and turned to her, head cocked to the side as you added, “You know him?”

“You could say that…”

Her gaze shifted to the side, her eyes narrowed slightly as her lips were pursed into a tight, thin line. You could sense that she had something on her mind, although she seemed reluctant to reveal it to you.

You were sincerely not in the mood to deal with anyone else that felt the need to hide things from you, you’d had enough of that for two lifetimes.

“What is it?” your voice was taught and had an edge to it that made her immediately look back up at you.

She sighed hopelessly in response and fiddled with the string that was still tied around the eye of her needle.

“I do not believe it is my place to say,”

“If you feel the need to blatantly lie to my face then I can only assume that you do in fact have something to say on the matter,”

She gaped at your harsh tone, however, she took no offense to your anger. On the contrary, she believed you had every right to be upset. She knew all too well what it felt like to have your life uprooted at the whims of powerful people and not only that, have your emotions completely tossed to the side as well. It was unfair for her to hide what she knew about Guy’s true nature from you to spare your feelings, after all, she knew how truly dangerous he was.

She had to approach this carefully, not wanting to overstep her own boundaries and all-but crucifying the man you believed was a true friend, the only person thus far in Nottingham that treated you with an ounce of respect. But Marian knew better than to expect that Guy was doing this all out of the goodness of his own heart. Knowing him, there must certainly be an ulterior motive for his actions. It pained her to do so, seeing how much faith you’d already put in him, but the truth had to be revealed.

“I’ve known Guy for some time,” she began and inched closer to you. “He and I became acquaintances shortly after the sheriff arrived in town. Back then, Vasey was a nobleman, one that had been sent down by Prince John himself on the excuse that he was to assess the state of things here in Nottingham county. As I’m sure you know, my father was usurped by Vasey for the role of sheriff and we had no say in the matter, not unless we wanted to be deemed as traitors of the crown,”

There was a deep frown on your face and Marian’s eyes widened in surprise when one of your hands reached out to gently hold one of her own.

“I’m terribly sorry about what you and your father went through,” you said genuinely and she smiled gratefully in response. “I was curious as to what befell the previous sheriff since from what I can remember, I always took him as the sort of man that would live out the end of his days doing his job.”

At that, Marian laughed. “You’d be quite right in that assumption. My father loved his job. He fell in love with the people of Nottingham and he did everything in his power to ensure that the law was upheld fairly. It seems Prince John had other plans, however, which called for someone a little more lacking in sympathies.”

She appeared lost in thought for a moment, reminiscing on simpler times that she often longed for in retrospect to how things were now.  After a moment, she offered you a shy smile and continued with her story.

“At first, I found myself growing fond of Guy’s much quieter disposition compared to the sheriff. Despite initially being wary of the two since Vasey came into my father’s position, I appreciated the time that Guy took to ensure that both my father and I were well looked after and taken care of. We were key players in Nottingham, after all, and the sheriff would be a fool to completely toss aside my father, someone that had garnered the trust of most of the nobles that still ran the council. Not to mention, he still had the overwhelming support of the people behind him as well. It wasn’t until Guy was appointed Lord of Locksley that everything started to change,”

Marian took a moment to meticulously choose her next words for she noticed the wariness that had startled to take its hold on you from the ominous shift in her tone.

“Guy has always been one that values power and loyalty,” she explained. “However, it wasn’t until he was given the estate that I was able to see first hand just how far he’d go in order to obtain those things. The man I once thought of as a shy, inexperienced up-and-coming lieutenant, had evolved into a monster,”

“Monster?” you’re completely taken aback. Your hand rested over your heart from shock and you felt your body subconsciously lean away from her, appalled that Marian could ever say such a thing.

“Listen to me,” she said urgently. “You were not here these last five years, I have seen first-hand the things he’s done! What he’s capable of! I’ve…I…” her voice trailed off, a tightness in her throat beginning to overwhelm her as tears started to prick at the corner of her eyes.

Your stomach sank at the sight, regret immediately beginning to gnaw away at your previous dismissal of her words from the raw despair breaking out on her once confident visage.

“I was a part of it…” a few tears slipped past her defenses and she stubbornly turned her head from you as she attempted to quickly wipe them away.

You tentatively reach out and place a hand on her shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. A million possibilities were swimming around in your head as you attempted to deduce what could have possibly happened between the two of them. However, whatever the outcome turned out to be, it was clear that it had left a deep emotional scar on Lady Marian’s heart.

“It’s alright,” you said softly and rubbed your thumb in slow, comforting circles. “If it is too painful to dwell on, my lady, I put no pressure on you to tell me. Your message rings out loud enough without having to tell me forthright,”

She sniffled and shakily wrapped one of her hands around your welcoming embrace, gingerly removing it from her shoulder to place both of your hands in her lap. When she deemed herself composed enough, she turned back around to finally face you once again.

“I appreciate your kind words,” she said with a small smile. “It is not every day that I come across someone so understanding. But…” she let a sad sigh slip past her lips before steeling her resolve, staring at you with renewed vigor. “You deserve to know about my history with Guy, you deserve to know about—”

“Excuse me, my lady?”

Both of you are startled when a guard calls out to you from the steps and you quickly clear your throat to respond.

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” he said, sending a curious glance at Marian. “But Sir Guy wanted to inform you that your charcoal has arrived and that he is waiting for you in the laboratory.”

“I see,” you replied tersely. “Very well, tell him that I shall be up shortly,”

The guard nodded and with a curt bow, he was off in a flash to deliver your message to Guy.

The conflict was apparent in your gaze as you turned your focus back to Marian and she gave you a sympathetic smile.

“Go,” she stated. “Consider our conversation tabled for now,”

“I’m sure it will not kill him to wait a few moments,”

She laughed at your snide comment, the sound genuine and full of light. It brought a smile of your own to your face.

“It would pain me for you to fall into any sort of trouble your first day here,” she confessed. Giving your hand a tight squeeze, she relinquished her hold on you and got up from her seat, picking up her abandoned embroidery pattern and tucking it under her arm. “I promise that we shall continue this conversation. There is only so much time I can spend embroidering,” she teased. “And I happen to know where the lab is located so, who knows? Perhaps I will make an unexpected visit… or two.”

You grinned and hopped off the bench, a newfound excitement coursing through your veins as the prospect of having a new, true friend presented itself to you.

“Well, who am I to deny such a request?”

Marian laughed again and offered you another heartfelt smile as she playfully hoped you’d make do with your promise, before heading towards one of the many arched doorways and disappearing back into the castle.

You found it hard to mask the smile that was still plastered on your face, overjoyed at meeting someone that you could wholeheartedly trust.

All at once though, a bitter taste filled your mouth as your previous feelings for the dashing master of arms came back round. Simply put, you quickly derived that the persona he’d presented to you thus far greatly strayed away from his true human nature. The very thought that he’d been using your confusion and betrayal from the circumstances of your arrival for you to trust him cause you to inwardly shudder. If you had not met Marian, what else would he have lied about to get you in his good graces?

Anxiety bubbled its way through your chest as you slowly ascended the stairs that lead up to the laboratory. How were you to approach the situation? Should you act as though nothing has changed? Should you distance yourself from him? Tell him to leave altogether?

As much as you wished you could outright dismiss his advances, you knew that it would be impossible to completely avoid Sir Guy due to how intimately involved he was with this project.

You cursed yourself at how easily you’d allowed yourself to become enamored with him from his dashing appearance alone. How could you ever forget that looks can be deceiving?

Your heart started to beat erratically against your rib cage, your breathing slightly labored as you stood before the heavy, intimidating iron door. The following hours were inevitable, your fate having long been sealed since you walked through the castle doors the night before. You knew it served no purpose to stall this out any longer than need be, so gathering up your courage, you tugged on the handle and walked inside.

You immediately noticed Guy standing off in the corner beside a few barrels that held the charcoal the sheriff had so dutifully fetched for you. Upon hearing your arrival, a smile lights up his face and he makes a beeline towards you.

Your feet appear to have a mind of their own, backing up a few paces as he closed in on you, effectively keeping the two of you apart.

This does not go unnoticed. Guy’s eyes flash with an unreadable emotion, his smile faltering until it fades altogether. The air around you is stifling and when you make no move to speak, he goes rigid, his shoulders squaring back and he clears his throat behind one of his gloved hands.

“The charcoal that you requested has arrived,” he said cooly and stepped aside, keeping a firm distance between the both of you.

If you hadn’t known any better, you’d say he almost looked offended at your behavior and although you desperately wished to solidify any thoughts he had that you wanted nothing more to do with him, you had to remind yourself that he was your superior. You had no powerful friends here, no family that could protect you should you say the wrong thing or step on the wrong toes. You were all alone and for that, you had to ensure that those who unfortunately held your life in the balance held no ill-will towards you.

A shaky, half-hearted smile managed to find its way on your face, even if it did not reach your eyes. “Thank you,” you said softly and gracefully walked over towards the barrels to get a better look.

In spite of everything, you were astounded that they had managed to scrounge up so much material so quickly.

“I’m impressed that they were able to find as much as they did,” you commented. “Your men work fast.”

Guy seemed to relax slightly from your words and he nodded his head. “It is their job. I’m pleased that it is to your satisfaction,”

“You’ve more than exceeded my expectations, Sir Guy,” you replied and felt your stomach turn at how his eyes sparkled in delight at your compliment.

Well, at least he was easily fooled by your act of professionalism.

He took a few timid steps towards you, as if you were a wild animal that he’d scare off should he approach too quickly. “I understand both the sheriff and I have told you I once worked on a project in patenting a formula for black powder, but I must admit that I will be of little help to you in this endeavor,”

The prospect of having him leave you to work on this alone had you silently thanking whatever gods were at play, but you never let that relief shine through.

“Well, I wouldn’t say that,” you replied. “If you were able to see the product in action, that would help me attempt to replicate the effects with my own ratios,”

“Really?”

He was genuinely surprised and you nodded your head.

“Yes. Any details that you can remember, anything at all, will give me the best shot at ensuring that you get the most out of the batches I’m able to create,”

Grabbing a piece of parchment and a quill, you sat down on one of the stools and pointed at the one in front of you as an indication for Guy to follow suit. The next hour or so was spent with you furiously scribbling down notes as you listened intently to Guy’s previous experience with black powder.

It was here that you learned the previous alchemist’s name had been Lambert and his formula was certainly an explosive one. You were impressed by the picture Guy painted. Lambert demonstrated that by using a trail of black powder that led to a small, compact source, the charge could be controlled and ensured maximum energy output while simultaneously being safe enough for commercial use. The resulting explosion had been powerful, creating a crater in the ground large enough for the sheriff to comfortably stand in.

You asked several other questions, wondering how the fire had interacted with the fuse or the consistency and color of the powder itself. By the end, you surmised that you had enough information to finally begin your work.

“I appreciate your help, Sir Guy,” you placed your notes on the nearby counter, your eyes scanning over them as you reread a few key points.

“I’m glad that I could be of assistance,” he mused and placed a hand on your shoulder.

It took all the strength within you not to flinch at his touch and you hoped that he’d take the hint you wished to get started and excuse himself on his own accord.

His hand lingered for longer than you would have liked and you heard him say, “I will leave you to your work then, milady. If you require any further assistance, please don’t hesitate to ask,”

“Thank you,”

When the door finally closed behind you, a breath you hadn’t known you were holding escaped you in a long, arduous sigh. You rub your temples with the pads of your fingers in an attempt to dull the throbbing behind your eyes, both physically and mentally exhausted from the unfolding of the day’s events. You’d gone from trusting this man to not wanting to have anything to do with him in the span of twenty-four hours. You could almost akin the feeling to whiplash.

The bells of the nearby church tolling out the arrival of another hour brought your focus back to the task at hand. There was no time for you to dwell too much on Sir Guy’s motives, not when the sheriff expected quick results on an assignment you so keenly promised to deliver.

However, even as you pushed your troubling thoughts aside, there was one thing you came to agree upon; Sir Guy was not to be trusted.

[viceprints]

Title: In Amsterdam Summary: After realizing that Saehyun isn’t having as much fun on tour as he is, Woodam decides to make it up to her by dragging her out of her hotel room.

Pairing: Woodam x Saehyun Genre: Fluff , relationship building Word Count: 1.8k Warnings: None that I could think of besides that it’s partially edited so there may be some mistakes. But please let me know if you think something deserves a warning!!  

SUMMER 2014, AMSTERDAM, THE NETHERLANDS 

“Dude, get ready.” Cyth emerged from the bathroom, running a fine toothed comb through his hair. “The pyrotech boys are waiting for us in the lobby.” 

Woodam lounged on his hotel bed with his laptop in his lap. He was wearing his grubby sweatpants and a shirt so old that the lettering on it was worn off, completely contrasting the designer button up that Cyth was currently sporting. He tried to make himself look as obstinate as possible. 

“You backing out?” Cyth asked, a twinge of disappointment in his voice. The hurt in his older friend’s voice almost made Woodam reconsider his plan, but he stood his ground.

“Yeah man, I’m just not really feeling up to it tonight.” Woodam shrugged, looking at his computer screen rather than his friend’s face.

“Okay... Sure.” Sungho didn’t argue. The good thing about rooming with someone who’s introverted; they never question your need for space. The rapper headed to the door, flinging his coat over his shoulder. “I’ll try to be home before two, but... no promises.” 

“Alright, be safe!” Woodam called, pretending to search something on his laptop.

“Again, no promises.” Cyth smirked at him from the doorway before closing the door. 

Woodam waited fifteen minutes before snapping his laptop shut. By now, the staff members should either be experiencing the nightlife that Amsterdam had to offer or unwinding in the privacy of their own rooms. It was time for him to get a move on.

Discarding his worn out clothes, he put on a nicer pair of jeans and one of his less-shabby sweatshirts. After a quick comb through his hair and a spritz of cologne for good luck, he exited his hotel room, heading for Saehyun’s down the hall.

Ever since Vice’s tour started, Saehyun, their photographer and past savior, had been dodging invites from Vice and the rest of the staff to unwind after work. At first, Woodam respected the rejection, even though he wished she occupied one of the empty chairs when the staff went out for dinner. But as the tour went on, Woodam felt like it was unfair that he was making all these memories while Saehyun, the person who saved him from a sasaeng all those years ago, sat alone in her hotel room. Tonight, he was going to repay her.

Woodie knocked on her door, swaying back and forth on the balls of his feet while he waited for her to answer. He heard the shuffle of footsteps stop before the door. Woodam looked at the peephole and waved enthusiastically. He was sure he heard a sigh before the door opened.

“Sorry, Woodam. I’m not going out tonight.” Saehyun said, giving him a false look of apology. 

“Oh, no worries, me either.” Woodam beamed. The apologetic smile on the photographer’s face melted, being replaced with a mild look of bewilderment.

“Huh?” 

“The boys already left. I was wondering if you wanted to hang out?” Woodam proposed, his mouth dry. In his head, Saehyun would accept the invitation without hesitation and the rest of their night would be full of unforgettable memories. However, the strained smile on Saehyun’s face was bringing Woodam back to reality. Before Saehyun could give him an excuse, he continued speaking. “I don’t want to invade your space but you just seemed really stressed lately and I’m worried that you’re overworking yourself. I’m just worried.” 

Saehyun licked her lower lip, mulling the proposal over. Then she looked over her shoulder, surveying her current living situation. 

“Um, would you like to step in for a minute? We can plan out what we want to do.” She offered tentatively. 

“Only if you’re comfortable.” Woodam said sincerely. “You have the right to tell me to go away.” 

A ghost of a smile quirked on Saehyun’s lips as she stepped aside and welcomed him into her hotel room. 

The room was clean enough, but it was obvious that Saehyun had been living out of it for the duration of their time in Amsterdam. A collection of discarded takeout boxes were crammed into the overflowing trash can. Her pre-planned outfits for the week were neatly folded on the spare bed. Books were stacked on her nightstand, titles that Woodam had noticed several times on the job sight between breaks.

Woodie gestured to a well-worn paperback book. “Didn’t you finish that in Germany?” He asked.

Saehyun shrugged. “I’m re-reading it. I didn’t bring as much reading material as I thought I did.” 

Woodam perked up, an idea of how they can spend their night casting over him. “Hey, let’s go shopping for a new book for you to read. My treat.” 

Saehyun gave him an appreciative smile. “That’s sweet of you, Woodie, but it’s not necessary.” 

“Saehyun, come on.” Woodam pouted, giving the photographer pleading eyes. “You’ve been stuck in this hotel room for two nights now. It’ll be nice to get some fresh air, huh?” 

Woodam knew no one could resist his pouting, and Saehyun was no exception. Within ten minutes the pair was exiting the hotel, heading towards the downtown area. 

It didn’t take long for Woodam to locate the bookstore he mentioned. The outside was covered in ivy and had little window boxes filled with multicolored flowers. A string of delicate fairy lights draped over the doorway and windows. It looked like something out of a fairytale. Woodie opened the door for Saehyun and watched with satisfaction as his photographer’s jaw dropped every so slightly.

The inside of the bookstore was even more magical. There were books stacked from the floor to the ceiling, teetering in precarious towers. Paper mobiles hung from the rafters, taking shapes of animals or hot air balloons. Just like outside, there were fairylights draped over bookshelves and dangling from the ceiling. It was like stepping into a whole other world. 

“Wow.” Saehyun mouthed, looking around with wide eyes. Woodie smiled at Saehyun’s endearing amazement. He let Saehyun wander around as he followed behind her like a tethered puppy, occasionally glancing at titles as they passed. Unfortunately, the bulk of the inventory was written either in Dutch or English. As Saehyun began to notice, her smile started fading and becoming more strained.

Woodie looked around for something to cheer Saehyun up. His eyes fell on a display a few paces away. He walked over and picked up a copy, hurrying back over with a smile on his face. 

“What’s that?” Saehyun asked. Woodam held it up proudly. Saehyun arched an eyebrow, looking not nearly as impressed as Woodam imagined.

“A coloring book?” Saehyun wrinkled her nose.

“An adult coloring book.” Woodam emphasized, flipping through the pages, displaying all the intricate line drawings. Saehyun still didn’t seem hooked. Woodam snapped the book shut, accepting defeat. 

“Okay… What about…” Woodam looked around. He spent about fifteen minutes searching around the store for something Saehyun would like. Unfortunately, all he knew about Saehyun was that she liked to take pictures and that she probably wanted Woodam to leave her alone. He came up empty handed, and Saehyun looked bored.

“I don’t know…” Woodam sulked, glancing around the bookstore one last time. “I think we struck out.” “It’s getting late anyways.” Saehyun shrugged. “We should probably get back to the hotel before people realize we’re gone.” 

Woodam followed Saehyun towards the door silently, thoroughly discouraged that he couldn’t make this night memorable. He doesn’t even know if Saehyun smiled once tonight. That hurt Woodam the most. 

As they were passing the last row of displays, something caught Woodam’s eye. He halted in his tracks. To his left was a tall shelf full of journals. The covers ranged from classic leather bound to sparkled with rhinestones. Saehyun realized Woodam wasn’t behind her and backtracked to stand next to him. 

Woodam glanced over at the girl with a grin on his face. “What about writing your own story?” 

“Got any ideas about your first entry?” Woodam questioned as they walked down the sidewalk. Above them, the street lights buzzed, casting the two of them in an peachy tint. Saehyun peeked into the paper bag, examining her recent purchase. “Not sure.” Saehyun mused. “Maybe I’ll make it into a burn book.”

Woodam’s eyebrows shot up. “Working for HBH is that bad huh?” He teased.

Saehyun rolled her eyes. “I didn’t mean it like that. Most of the staff is lovely. I think.” A puzzled expression casted over her features. “It’s kind of hard to tell who’s nice and who isn’t if everyone talks to you simply.” 

“You haven’t made any friends yet?” Woodam asked with concern. 

Saehyun dryly chuckled. “I mean… I’m not really here to make friends. I’m here to photograph a boy band and to build up my resume.” 

“Still. It must get lonely if you don’t have someone to talk to.” Woodam sympathized. Saehyun didn’t respond. Laughter and cheers from the bars that lined the streets filtered into the night, contrasting the stiff silence between them. 

“Are you okay?” 

Woodam had been wanting to ask this question for weeks now. With no other staff members or his friends around, the question came out easily. Saehyun looked up at Woodam, her expression downcast.

“I mean… Yeah. I’m okay. But I guess you’re right. I am a little lonely.” 

The silence returned.

“You should write about tonight.” Woodam suggested as they were two blocks from their hotel. “In your journal, I mean.”

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah. You might be less lonely when you look back on it.” Woodam smiled. Saehyun fought off a grin as she gave him a playful shove. “Yeah, I’ll look back on it and write about how you tried to get me to buy a coloring book.” Saehyun chuckled. “Hey, it was a good idea! You’re just boring.” “I’m not boring.” “I’d say otherwise…” “You don’t know me.” Saehyun arched her eyebrows playfully. Woodam slowed his walking, nodding his head.

“You’re right. I don’t really know you.” The idol gave the photographer a small smirk. “Maybe we should hang out more. Then I’ll be able to decide if you’re boring or not.” 

Saehyun’s smile melted a little. “That’s sweet, Woodie, but… I’m concerned of how it’ll look to everyone else if we start hanging out. My colleagues know I used to be a fansite, you know? They already have their assumptions as to why I’m here. I don’t want to look any less professional than I already do.” 

Woodam nodded in understanding. He looked around them. There were people around, but no one seemed to be paying any attention to them. He pointed a finger to the sky. “What if we hung out like this?” 

“At night?” Saehyun reacted as if Woodam suggested that they lay in the middle of the road. “If we get caught, I’ll be booted in a heartbeat.” 

“So we won’t.” Woodam grinned. “I’m better at keeping secrets than you may think.” 

Saehyun ran a hand through her hair, tugging the roots back as she thought about the proposal. Finally, her hand fell from her locks, the strain on her scalp being released. 

“I guess it was nice not spending a night alone.” She caved. Woodam beamed, resuming his walking.

“Exactly.” Woodam said satisfactorily.

[newobsessioneveryweek]

Sleep

I had LOADS of fun writing this 10k masterpiece with @jinmukangwrites. She’s an amazing writer and if you haven’t heard of her I suggest you check out her blog.

Inspired by a post made on @linkeduniversetweets (asked by @toschiworlds) 

Brief spoiler-free summary: The Links spend a few days at Lon Lon Ranch during which Time manages to get himself concussed.

Enjoy

The Links had endured countless battles, vicious monsters, cascades of blood, and cold, unforgiving nights in the wilderness for several months but what laid before them offered the heroes a vital reprieve.

Blue skies and a gentle breeze greeted the Hero of Time when he climbed the small hill leading to his home in the early afternoon. The sun shone brightly upon him, almost unbearably warm, but a comforting feeling nonetheless. The smell of hay perfumed the air and left a lingering sweetness. But the sight of the woman that greeted him made the experience one hundred times sweeter. Time swung Malon once before leaning in and leaving a gentle kiss on her lips, relishing the bliss the reunion brought. The pair embraced and the remaining heroes either coed over the joyous moment or turned away to give the couple their privacy.

“I’ve missed you,” Time whispered into Malon’s shoulder. Malon could only barely stop herself from tearing up at her elation at hearing her husband’s voice.

“I missed you too,” she responded, her voice cracking slightly.

Lon Lon Ranch had become a haven for the travelling band of heroes and, though their job was far from finished, the Links felt that their abundant efforts could be rewarded with the few days they were able to spend in safety behind the walls of the ranch. But that luxury didn’t come without its small price.

***

“Chores!” Malon slammed a metal pail on the kitchen table, causing the Links who were having breakfast to jump in surprise. A beaming smile adorned her bright face as she looked around the room at each individual face.

Wild nearly dropped his sausage and Wind gasped the water he was drinking down the wrong pipe at the sudden raucous noise, causing him to cough excessively. “Who’s milking the cows and who’s feeding the cuccos,” Malon asked.

The Links around the table glanced at each other before quickly responding. “I’ll milk the cows,” They volunteered in unison. Malon laughed and took the bucket back. “If you can’t decide I’ll dish out the work myself. Wild, you can stay with me and wash dishes-”

“Lucky bastard,” Legend said.

“Language young man,” Malon chided. Legend immediately shut his mouth and listened. Malon tapped her chin before she turned to Legend. “Legend, you’re on cucco duty.”

“What? Why?”

“Because of that potty mouth of yours.” Beside Legend Warrior snickered. Malon huffed. “Alright Warrior, you can help him.”

“Oh, come on,” Warrior complained, which prompted a laugh from Legend in return.

“WInd, you can feed the pigs.”

“Yes,” Wind cheered. He liked the pigs.

“Twilight, you and Sky are on shovel duty,”

“What’s shovel- oh,” Sky then realised the odd job he’d been given and cringed.

“Yeah,” Twilight said.

“Hyrule and Four, hmm, you two are on milking duty with me.”

“Aw, yeah! I love milking duty,” Hyrule exclaimed.

“I don’t. The milk always gets on me,” Four grumbled.

“Well, maybe you should get a higher stool,” Legend joked.

Four stuck his tongue out at the remark and took the offered bucket from Malon once he cleared his plate.

“What about Time?”

“What about Time- I mean Link?”

“What’s his job?”

 “Oh! I sent him to fix up one of the stables in the old barn. We’re planning on breeding the horses so we need more space.”

 “Cool! Epona needs more friends,” Wind said excitedly. “Can I name the babies, please?” Wind practically begged her, and Malon easily granted his wish.

“Of course,” Malon said simply, smiling widely. “There’ll be plenty of names to give next time you happen to roll around our neck of the woods.”

***

“Let’s see,” Time muttered to himself as he took inventory of the tools on the shelf in front of him. “Wrench, saw. What’s that called again?” Time snapped his fingers, trying to remember the name of the strangle apparatus. “Gimlet,” he exclaimed. Time had long since finished his repair job, but he decided to make a list of their belongings while he was busy. He liked order and he knew Malon would appreciate the extra effort. Just knowing what you had made missing items easier to identify.

After he was done counting the hand tools he moved on to the gardening section of the barn where the heavier instruments were kept. Hoes and shovels, rakes and spades, pickaxes and regular axes hung neatly on hooks right above the Hero of Time, making it easy for him to see each individual item. “Okay, what do we have here?” Time took note of all the different items hung on the wall, jotting them down on his bulleted list as he went along the row.

“Alright, that seems to be- huh?” Time whirled around just in Time to see Epona barreling towards him at top speed. Her eyes held a spark of panic, she moved frantically as if trying to escape something. It all happened in a split second.

Epona charged, ramming straight into the startled hero and carrying him into the wall, causing the tools hung on the short, narrow hooks to fall on top of him. Epona whinnied in surprise and ran away from the scene, leaving the Hero of Time crumpled on the floor.

Time was faintly aware of the serious head wound he had sustained as a result of multiple sharp, heavy objects landing on his head. It took him approximately two seconds to realise how weak he felt and that if he moved his head even slightly overwhelming nausea would wash over him. His ears were ringing, his head ached and he felt absolutely helpless.

Sleepiness slowly began to creep upon him but Time fought the feeling with his entire being. He would spend his energy trying to avoid the inevitability of sleep. He had to fight it! If he didn’t… he would not be the same when he woke up.

In his stupor, he hadn’t realised the day’s coming to an end and so the feeble hero laid helpless on the floor of the old barn, desperately trying to stay awake. 

-o-o-o-o-

"This brings me back," Twilight said, shoving the shovel down in his hands for the dozenth time that evening. He dug the blade of the shovel under a particularly large pile of manure and lifted it so he can dump in an ever pulling wheelbarrow graciously provided by Malon.

Beside him, Sky grunted as he too worked a shovel into the ground. He wiped his brow with the back of his hand and then continued. "This brings you back?" 

"Oh yeah. Growing up, I didn't have parents. I had to get money to fend for myself by doing odd jobs for the people of the village I lived in" Twilight explained, "one of those jobs was mucking up the fields. Didn't enjoy it at the time, but it was good and honest work for a child. Now that I'm older, I help out with herding and taking care of the animals. We have the younger kids cleaning the fields now."

"Odd jobs where I came from normally included carrying books," Sky said somewhat bitterly as he unloaded his shovel into the wheelbarrow, "or cleaning blackboards."

Twilight let out a chuckle and stuck his shovel into the ground, looking around the field to admire their work. Malon did a fantastic job with caring for the ranch herself, but she was probably overworked with her husband gone off on another adventure, and seeing her field all clean-looking filled Twilight's chest with pride. 

"So, what now?" Sky asked, looking at the pile of manure with a wrinkled nose. Twilight shrugged and grabbed the handles of the wheelbarrow. 

"I'm sure Malon has a place for us to put this so we can let it decompose."

"Oh," Sky hummed. "How long does that take?"

Twilight shrugged. "Depends. We can see if Malon wants us to throw any unused crops in there to help the process, but, either way, it should be fine to use as fertilizer by the time fields are ready-"

"Wait, did you say fertilizer?" Sky squawked and Twilight grinned. 

"Oh yeah, city boy. Every farmer does it."

"U-uses poo to-"

"There you boys are," a new voice chimed in and Twilight turned to find Malon walking towards them, a smile on her face. "All done?"

"Yes ma'am," Twilight nodded while Sky stood there gaping. "Was just wanderin' where you wanted us to put this?"

"Oh, we have a spot for it by the mill, that way it doesn't stink up the house while it bakes," Malon said with a wink.

"I think I'm going to barf," Sky said, clutching his stomach and both Twilight and Malon burst into fits of laughter. "This isn't funny! I'm never going to be able to eat a vegetable ever again!" 

"Oh honey, wait until you hear what we feed the pigs," Malon joked, and Twilight would have laughed along as Sky cried out in horror, covering his ears, but a different sound met Twilight's ears that took every drop of his attention away. 

As a goat herder, there are sounds that he was trained to recognize. One of those was the sound of frantic, escaping hooves. 

He turned his eyes away from Malon who was punching Sky's shoulder jokingly and looked towards the sound, only to see a horse raging right towards them. 

Epona. 

Instinctively—ditching the wheelbarrow—he rushed away from Malon—who at this point had noticed the startled horse as well—and threw his hands up, calling out. She was barreling right towards them, ears pinned back in panic and mouth loudly panting, until she reared up and cried out right before she could run into him. 

Something scared Epona, if the way she remained agitated until Malon pushed her way through and began to sing a song, something scared her badly. 

"Is she okay?" Sky asked hesitantly. 

"I don't know," Malon said softly, rubbing Epona's mane with gentle movements. "What scared ya, girl?"

"If Epona is anything like my horse, nothing small," Twilight mused, he too joining in to stroke Epona's neck. 

"We should find the others," Sky mumbled, pulling out his sword. Twilight agreed with a nod and unsheathed his own, the joking and good mood a mere fading memory now.

"If you don't mind, ma'am," Twilight said and gave his most assuring smile towards Malon, "you should head inside. I'll take care of Epona."

Malon looked like she was about to argue but then her shoulders sagged. "Bring everyone back safe. I'm sure it's just a wild animal."

-o-o-o-o-

"That'a'gal," Twilight hummed, leading Epona closer towards the stable, one hand still with his sword. Epona seemed to have calmed down some, but he's still worried about her. What could scare a horse that has been through so much?

He sighed and took another step towards the stable, and then he was knocked painfully off his feet by something appearing out from the ground. He landed harshly on his back with a grunt, just managing to avoid biting his tongue, but the sound of Epona's loud neigh was enough to get him quickly back onto his feet. He's back on solid ground just in time to jump to the side to avoid a fleshy, slug-like body and it's sharp pincers. 

A leaver. An almost true constant between worlds. Annoying, fast, and persistent. However, they are normally found in the desert. 

Twilight would wonder why this leaver was here if it wasn't for the disgusting inky tone to its body. 

Infected. 

Twilight jumped into battle without another second to lose. He didn't even have time to regret sending Sky to the opposite side of the field to search for the others before the leaver burrowed its strong body into the ground. Epona stomped the dirt with her hooves, whinnying loudly and angrily and he understood why she was so startled now. Any horse would be startled by something popping up from below them. 

A section of ground popped up a bit and Twilight was on it in a heartbeat, jumping forward and sending his sword down. He could hear an agonized gurgle come from the creature but it wasn't done yet. It shifted and pushed forward, knocking him back. He lost grip of his sword and with a startled yell he was once again on his back. He just barely had enough time to look up for the creature but didn't have any more to spend on defending himself when it raced toward him. 

Then, four raging hooves stomped on it and kept stomping on it until it was a gross pile of mush. 

Twilight relaxed against the ground, forcing his heart to calm down. 

Well, that happened. 

He shoved himself once again to his feet and grabbed his sword, glaring at the creature now turned pudding. Epona didn't look like she'd calm down again anytime soon if the way she was huffing and snarling and stomping her feet indicated anything. So, he decided he'd let her be and go inside the stable, remembering that the old man should be in there. He could calm her down better.

He walked towards the door, gave a small knock, and opened it. "Hey, Time?" He called, the smell of horse meeting his nose. There was no answer, so he went all the way in, eyebrows furrowed by the silence. 

Then, a groan. 

He turned his neck, and his blood froze. "Oh Hylia. Time!'

Time laid miserably on his spot on the floor, tools strewn on and around him. Twilight sprinted towards his mentor, desperate to see what had caused the strong hero to look so vulnerable. Upon closer inspection, Twilight noticed the blood coating Time’s hair and face. “Goddesses, Time what happened to you?”

Time could only reach up and touch his forehead, wincing at the pain the simple action brought on.

Twilight was quick to sling Time’s arm around his shoulder but couldn’t manage to haul him up. If only the hero had removed his armour he would have been easier to lift. “Holy Hylia, Time, you weigh a ton.” Twilight sighed. “Okay, I’m going to get help. I’ll be right back.” Twilight ran as quickly as he could from the stable as Time groaned again and slumped back against the wall. It wasn’t long before he ran into Warrior and Legend who were busy tending the cucoos.

“Always remember,” Legend said beside Warrior who was holding a bag of feed at arm’s length, a cucoo standing innocently in front of him. “They can smell fear.”

“I’ve fought cucoo wars, my friend,” Warrior said eliciting a snicker from Legend, “I am not afraid of feeding these little punks.” As if on cue the cucoo crowed and Warrior visibly startled. Legend began cackling at his side, doubling over at the hilarity. “Shut up. I just got a fright.”

“Guys,” Twilight called, catching the pair’s attention. They turned to Twilight, seeing the weary look in his eyes.

“What’s wrong,” Warrior asked, concern in his voice.

“Time’s hurt. I can’t carry him alone. I need your help to take him to the house.”

“Say no more. I’ll come with you.” Warrior stepped over the fence keeping the cucoos and joined Twilight’s side.

“Me too,” Legend said, making his way over when Twilight stopped him.

“No, Legend. I need you to tell Malon what happened. She should be in the house.”

“O-okay. I’m on it.” Legend dashed off to the house and while Warrior and Twilight made their way hastily to the barn.

“How bad is it,” Warrior huffed as they ran across the field.

“I don’t know. He was pretty out of it when I got there but I hope he’s doing okay. He might have a concussion.”

Warrior hummed in thought. “What exactly happened?“

“I don’t know, but by the looks of it, some tools fell on top of him. He was lying under a bunch of gardening equipment.”

“Shit,” Warrior cursed. “I think you might be right about that concussion. How did that even happen?”

“I don’t know. He can tell us when we get him inside.”

They came to a stop in front of the red and white wooden building and pushed open the large wide doors.

“Old man,” Warrior called, peering inside, “You okay?”

Time was still on the floor, covered in blood and moaning. His eyes were glazed over but they held a note of fear behind them.

“Time, we’re going to help you. We just need to-” Twilight began as he knelt next to the man and slung his arm over his shoulder for the second time when he was interrupted by a sudden outcry.

“Get away from me,” Time yelled as loudly as he could in the state he was in. Twilight startled at his mentor’s harsh words, but he continued to lift him with Warrior’s help. “No, NO! Leave me,” Time continued to shout, fighting to free himself from Twilight and Warrior’s firm grip.

“Time, calm down, we’re just trying to take you home-”

“No, please,” Twilight spared a glance at the old man and his heart sank. Was Time crying? “Not again. I beg of you.”

“Time,” Twilight said gently, “It’s going to be fine.”

Just then Legend burst through the door. He doubled over, breathing heavily. “Fuck,” more breathing, “Okay,” he straightened and looked at the trio, Time’s teary-eyed visage and blood-soaked hair catching his notice above everything else. “Goddesses, Time, what happened?”

“We don’t know, but we need your help getting him to the house.”

Legend needed no more instruction and jogged over to help Twilight and Warrior carry the injured man. He took hold of Time’s legs but got kicked in the face for his efforts. “Ow! What-”

“Let go of me!” Time was frantic. He began kicking and flailing his arms to try and get away, but his efforts were weak despite his dedication.

“Time, we need you to cooperate,” Warrior scolded. “Malon’s probably worried sick.” Legend tried again to take hold of Time’s legs, but Time wouldn’t relent. He kept thrashing. “Time please-”

Time began wailing out of nowhere. He stopped fighting and fell to his knees, escaping from their grips but making no move to run. “I can’t. Don’t take me back there. The sacred realm,” Time sobbed, “I don’t want to go back.” Twilight froze. The sacred realm? Time had been there? Could that mean he was imprisoned with Ganondorf? And if that was the case, could that be why Time had been fighting them so relentlessly only a moment ago? Maybe his head wound was more serious than Twilight originally thought if Time was freaking out about events from that long ago. Twilight moved to pick him up again and this time his mentor didn’t flinch, probably having spent all of his energy trying to keep them away.

Soon the three heroes managed to get Time to the house without too much trouble. But the whole scene was still on Twilight’s mind. Why did Time think that they were going to take him to the sacred realm? What had traumatised the hero so much that he showed such vulnerability; such helplessness, and fear?

Before Twilight could ponder any longer Malon rushed to help her husband. She shouldered the weight Warrior had been carrying and they both managed to nearly drag Time upstairs to bed. All the while Time muttered words of protest, though he was unable to fight back effectively.

 He seemed so lifeless. Boneless even. So unlike himself that it had Twilight swallowing something stuck in his throat. Something that felt like a seed of panic. Yet he knew he couldn't panic, not yet, because if he turned around he'd see the others looking at him, looking for some sort of direction, something to do. 

Twilight didn't have anything for them to do. He barely knew what to do himself. 

So he swallowed that seed and turned, keeping his face as neutral as he could manage, and looked at each hero in the eye. Legend, of course, was there, but until now Twilight hadn't noticed Wild and Four were there as well. Sky must have still been looking for the others.

Well, he supposed there was something to do. 

"Head out, find the others, and bring your swords," he said calmly, a stark difference from what he was actually feeling. "I ran into an infected Leaver out there. They travel in packs, there could be more."

"Alright," Wild mumbled, grabbing his sword and walking out the door even though Twilight didn't think Wild knew what a leaver was. Legend shared a look with Twilight before nodding and running out to follow the champion.

"I'll go check on the traveler," Four said, "he's cleaning up the cow pen. The pig parlor is near there too, so I'll see if Wind is still there." And then he was out the door.

Then, Twilight was alone, looking at the empty house and feeling almost… lost on what to do. He supposed he could head out and search for Sky, but his feet didn't seem to want to move from their spot. 

Then, the sound of creaking floorboards made themselves known behind Twilight. He turned around to see Warrior standing there.

Warrior gave Twilight a small smile and Twilight found himself smiling a tad bit back. Worry was a knot in his chest, but he was sure with the help of the others, this would just be a bump in the road. 

"While they're finding the others," Warrior offered, "you and I can check the perimeter for more monsters."

Twilight was about to respond that it sounded like a plan, but then Malon made her appearance as well. "Actually, I need one of you boys to help me a little more," she said softly. Twilight glanced at Warrior and he shrugged, fixing his scarf around his neck so it wrapped a little around his chin. 

"Why don't you help the lady," Warrior said, "I want to see these leavers for myself."

Twilight nodded, making a mental note to thank Warrior later, and then turned towards Malon as the other hero took his leave. Malon gave him a kind look before she stepped forward and brushed her finger across his cheek. "Look at you," she said, "you need a hose down more than the pigs."

Twilight released a breath and stepped away, folding his arms across his chest. "How is he?"

A grimace passed over Malon's features. "Tired. Confused. Scared. Nothing I haven't tackled before."

Twilight knew nightmares were not exclusive. Anyone could have them. Someone with a perfect life. Someone who've seen more war-torn days that simple days. Nightmares crept up on the cowardly. Pounced on the brave. It shouldn't surprise him that things like this had happened to Time before. 

"Thankfully, he's keeping himself awake," Malon continued, beginning to head towards the front door. Twilight quickly followed along. "I don't know if he's conscious enough to purposely keep himself awake, or if… if he's subconsciously doing it. But either way, it gives us time to find help."

She walked out of the house with Twilight at her heels, and eventually, she stopped by a small garden of berry bushes. She worked her way past them and revealed a small birdbath.

Well, a fairy bath actually. 

"Drat," Malon cussed, "there's only one."

"You collect them?"

"You boys and your collecting," Malon mumbled, walking forward to where a small ball of light hovered over the water in the bowl, dropping every so often to perhaps take a sip. "We're looking for one." She reached forward and gently cupped the fairy in her hands, mumbling a soft plea for help that they both knew the fairy would oblige without a single hesitation. 

"Navi," Twilight whispered in reverence. Malon slowly pulled her hands to her chest, the fairie's light glowing through her fingers. 

"How… how much do you know about my husband?" She asked.

Twilight swallowed. "Um, more than the others. B-but less than you, I'm sure."

She shook her head and began to head back to the house. "There's not a single thing I don't know about him. Do you know about the true nature of his adventures? Why he had been given the title of Hero of Time?" 

"I, uh," Twilight stumbled, placing his hand on the back of his neck and rubbing sheepishly. "Not really. I know he… traveled a few times. Back and forth into the future and the past."

"That doesn't just happen you know," Malon said as they walked back into the house. They stopped right in front of the master bedroom and she sighed, looking older than what he had ever seen her before. "He tells me that when he was a boy, he went to obtain a sacred sword. But his body… was too young and weak to wield a sword like that. Against his will and knowledge, he was locked away in the sacred realm… for seven years, only to wake up in a body that was older than his mind. To a world torn apart by power.

"He… he tells me he does not remember those years locked away, but sometimes he wakes up screaming to let him go. Let him leave. That he's afraid and he doesn't want to be there anymore. I think… I think the memories of that place are somewhere in his head, and when he's asleep or things like this happen, they're unlocked."

Twilight nodded somberly in sympathy for Time’s circumstances. Time had endured much more than any normal Hylian could even fathom, though Malon seemed uninterested in Time’s heroics and more in tune with the man he was inside. She would know what to say to snap him out of his state of anxiety. If anyone could bring him back to reality it was her.

The door creaked loudly as Malon opened it hesitantly. She tiptoed over to the bed on which Time was lying with his back against the headboard. His head faced the window across the bed. He kept muttering unintelligibly under his breath, his eyes would dart across the room, and he would jump at the slightest noise. The hero turned his head at their approaching footsteps.

“Dear,” Malon said, causing her husband to turn towards her completely. He looked exhausted as if he’d pass out any second, but they couldn’t risk him falling into any terrible consequences of a concussion. Time smiled at her, and, for the first time since the incident, he looked as if he felt truly safe. “I brought something that might help you.” Malon released the fairy from her hands, watching it whisk away and flutter over Time’s shaking form. Almost instantly he relaxed, though slightly. His pupils contracted, the dazed look in his eyes faded and he stopped shaking. He stopped muttering to himself and looked up at Twilight who had made his way over to the bed. Time, for the briefest moment, looked as if he recognised Twilight before he shot up and scooted back on the bed, shouting, “No!” and “Get away from me!”

“Not again, NOT AGAIN!”

“Link, sweetheart, it’s just Twilight,” Malon said, reaching out and trying to placate him. “Please, try to remember. He’s not going to take you back. I-I promise,” Malon choked out. Tears pricked at her eyes as she watched her husband agonise over the cruelty that had been done to him as a child. She didn’t think she could bear to see him crumble under the weight of all his years of torture and vulnerability.

Time saw this- her tears- and stopped. He drew closer to her and placed a rough but gentle hand on her cheek.

“Twilight, will you just-” she paused and took a calm, shaky breath, looking deeply into Time’s scared eyes. “Will you please give me a moment?”

Twilight respectfully nodded and left the room. He heard voices coming from the kitchen and made his way there to find that all of the Links had returned. They all wore worried expression, presumably having all heard the news about Time’s accident.

Twilight cleared his throat and addressed the room at their expectant glances. “He’ll be alright,” he said simply.

“Alright? That’s it? No ‘he’s responding to treatment’, or ‘we know how to heal him’?” Four asked bluntly

“What kind of treatment, dumbass? We have no potions, no fairies, and no doctor,” Legend declared, flailing his arms wildly. “And how are we supposed to know how to heal him if we don’t know what’s wrong?”

“We actually had one fairy,” Twilight answered, “and we might know what’s wrong with him.”

All heads turned to Twilight at the new information. “Well? Spill it. How do we fix him,” Legend demanded, tapping his foot impatiently. He tried to look nonchalant but the look in his eyes betrayed his concern.

“He might have sustained a serious concussion, but, with the fairy, we were able to lessen the injury, but we’ll still need to take shifts waking him up. We have to make sure he doesn’t bear any permanent damage.”

The group fell silent after that, worry casting its dark cloud over them. Twilight shifted and played with his fingers, revealing his nerves.

“There’s something you’re not telling us,” WIld pointed out suddenly, catching the group’s attention. Twilight paused. Even though he knew it was necessary to tell them and they would find out even without his help, he didn’t want to spread worry over a handleable situation. Despite these thoughts, he decided he needed to tell them the truth.

“There is… one problem. I don’t think the old man remembers any of us or trusts us. And more than that it seems like he’s trying to keep himself awake because of some past trauma.”

“Well, that’s good, isn’t it,” WInd asked hopefully.

“Not exactly. Concussed patients need sleep. They just can’t be asleep for too long periods at a time.”

“That’s sure to make things difficult, but it’s just a small setback. We can still get him to sleep and help him remember us,” Sky added cheerfully.

The rest of the Links didn’t look so sure, but they didn’t argue with Sky either. His optimism was welcome in their time of panic. They were willing to give anything a shot if it meant helping their friend.

“I think it’s best if we take shifts. Too many people at once will just overwhelm him.

“If that’s the case I’ll take the first shift,” said Warrior, standing. “I mean, we were pretty close. Maybe there’s a chance he’ll remember me.”

Twilight thought about that. Of course, there was a chance, but if the old man didn’t even remember Twilight he didn’t think he’d remember Warrior, even if they were close. “Okay, go for it,” Twilight said wearily.

Warrior nodded and left for Time and Malon’s room, leaving the rest to ponder the endless possibilities that might come of this.

"Oh good, you all have a plan," Molon said, walking into the room with the other Links'. She gave them a tired yet enthusiastic smile. " That means I can trust you all to hold down the fort while I head to Castle Town."

"Alone?" Sky asked, only to hiss out in pain when Wind elbowed him in the side.

"She can handle herself," Wind warned but Malon just chuckled good-naturedly. 

"I appreciate the concern, sky child, but it's just to the castle. My husband needs more medicine and the sun is still up for a little while longer. I'll be back by morning, just keep waking him up every so often to make sure he's not getting worse," she said, tugging a shawl around her shoulders.

"If you wish for one of us to accompany you," Wild offered smally, "I'd be happy to tag along."

Really, Twilight would almost like for Wild to join Malon. He looked out of his element, and he probably felt like the last one capable to help someone with memory loss and confusion. But Malon simply shook her head and walked up to him, placing a hand on his shoulder and smiling kindly at him. "Thank you for offering, but I'll be fine. My husband needs you all. You're all very important to him. Besides, I won't be alone, I'll have Epona with me."

"You're important to him too," Hyrule said quietly. 

Malon just beamed at him before she walked over to the door. "I'll be back by morning. Earlier if the gates don't lock me in. Take care!"

"Good luck," seven voices all chimed in. Then, Malon was gone, and the boys were all left to their own devices. 

And there weren't a whole lot of devices, so Twilight took a page from Time and Malon's book and set the boys to work. Wild returned to the kitchen, finishing up dinner while Legend and Hyrule went to clean up and prepare the guest room. To Sky, he assigned sweeping the floors and Four and Wild worked together to dust various cabinets. All the while, the door to the master bedroom remained silent, a boding forewarning of what the future had to bring. 

-o-o-o-o-

His head hurt. That was the simple truth of everything. His head hurt. Enough so that he would be quite content doing nothing. He was pretty sure he was asleep, but he couldn't really recall why. If he tried to remember, then the headache would just grow and he would rather it went away. 

Unfortunately for him, he had little choice in many things, one of those things was the over creeping sense of wakefulness forcing himself to become aware of his body, the sounds around him, and the gross taste lingering in his mouth. Something on his shoulder.

He would have preferred to keep his eyes shut, but they opened anyway, bringing a sharp ping of pain through his skull.

Blinking, he looked ahead of him, only to find a wooden ceiling above his head and not much else. He moaned as his headache smarted, but he quickly stilled as he realized that the pressure on his shoulder that he felt earlier was still there. 

He turned his head and his eyes widened. There was a man in the room with him, leaning towards him from a wooden chair set next to the bed, arm stretched out and hand resting on him. Face screwed up with concern.

“Hey, old man, you up?”

Instantly, panic washed over him.

He jerked away from the man, slamming his hands next to his side to perhaps find a weapon. “Get away,” he snarled and the man snapped back as if stung. It was now that he realized that he didn’t know where he was. There was a small inkling at the back of his head that promised that he might have been here, but the hysteria from waking up with a stranger next to him was blurring his vision, making it even harder to concentrate when combined with his aching head. 

“Time, it’s me,” the man said, his voice stern but a little rushed like he was nervous, and that certainly did nothing to make Link trust him any more than what he initially did. “Captain?”

“Where am I?” Link snarled, his voice sounding wrong in his own throat. He tried to shift up in the bed he was lying in, but his body felt wrong and the hurt in his head was traveling down his spine with the movement. A flash of familiarity ricocheted across his skull and he couldn’t help but whimper at it. He had felt like this before. Like his body was wrong and everything was different and wrong and that only made him want to panic more.

Yet everything hurt, he could hardly even think about moving without some sort of pain. He could just lie there and struggle to make sense of what’s going on, hoping his muddled mind would clear.

“You’re at your home,” the man (captain?) said slowly, making an effort to raise his hands and show he was weaponless. Not that Link believed him for a second. People can be crafty when they want to be. “What do you remember?”

“I-” Link swallowed, trying to grasp onto anything that was more clear than the rapid beating of his heart. He was so confused, and scared, and lost, and what was the last thing he remembered? He can hardly remember a single thing. Then, something calming washed over him with the soothing voice of a woman singing softly in his hair, her soft hands running through his hair. 

Safe, she said, you’re safe my love.

And just like that, her face appeared in his mind’s eye, and he was overcome with comfort and safety and finally, his heart calmed just a bit. He didn’t remember these walls, but he recognizes them now.

Home, they say. Safe.

He looked at the man again, trying to see him in a different light, try to puzzle together something he’s missing most the pieces to. 

A name flashed across the tip of his tongue, and he spoke it before he could question it. “You’re Link,” he said softly.

The man smiled and relaxed ever so slightly, and Link can feel the energy inside of him whither as well. He can barely keep his eyes open anymore, the adrenaline fading like a wistful song. “I’m Link too,” the man said kindly.

“Oh,” was all Link could say to that. His eyes are heavy now, almost like something unseen was wrapping itself around him, trying to drag him back into unconsciousness, and he almost fell into it if it weren’t for the hand replacing itself back onto his shoulder. 

“Hey, not yet, old man,” the other Link said. “We have to keep you awake just a bit longer, just to make sure your memory loss isn’t the only damage the concussion did.”

“Concussion…?”

The man simply nodded with a gentle, reassuring smile plastered on his face. “Yeah, you wouldn’t remember that. We found you out in the barn. You were lying under a bunch of gardening equipment with blood running from a wound on your head. Malon, your wife,” Link confirmed, “patched you up with a fairy-”

“Fairy,” Time interrupted, a flash of hope sparking in his eyes. “Navi?”

The other Link’s face fell as he shook his head. “No, old man. I’m sorry.” The pair were silent for a minute. Link kept his gaze on the floor as if it was more interesting than their conversation. The man ran a hand down his face before he spoke again. “Even though your wound is healed the effects are still there. You’ll be out of commission for a couple of days so don’t even think about getting out of bed.”

Link didn’t argue. He felt positively shitty to put it lightly. His head felt like a blacksmith’s anvil… blacksmith… somehow that word felt important as if it stirred the fog enshrouding his mind, trying to reveal a secret that would rather stay hidden. He grasped at it, but it evaded him.

Then a thought occurred to him out of the blue.

Link stared blankly at the man and blinked.

“What,” the other Link asked.

“Why are you in my house?” The question came out of nowhere, unprompted by anything, and yet, this was his house? Why was this man here?

The man blanched. “I’m sorry, what?”

“This is my house, is it not? I remember… that I know who you are, but why are you here? Does my wife know? Are there others? When did you even find me?”

“We found you earlier today and, yeah, there are others Twilight was here-”

“Twilight,” Link said slowly. “Yes, he was in here.“

“He’s one of us,” the other said. He paused as if realising something. “Do you remember him?”

Link shook his head. “No, I- I thought… I didn’t trust him. I thought he was going to take me back. I sense his magic... He can’t be trusted.” Link spoke frantically, trying to get his nerves across so the other Link would listen. He couldn’t go back to that place, no, he wouldn’t!

“Time, nobody here is going to hurt you. We’re your friends.” The man said then he sighed. “Malon left to get you some medicine,” he said and Link wanted to panic, but he could tell that the other was sure of his words, that Link wouldn’t be hurt. “In the meantime, I’m just going to ask you a few questions to make sure you’re doing okay.”

“All right.” Link did not feel fine, but he guessed that the other man meant something else.

The man cleared his throat before he began. “Are you feeling particularly irritable at the moment?”

Link quirked an eyebrow. “What sort of question is that?”

“Just answer me,” the man said, eliciting a small giggle from Link.

“No, I don’t think so,” he said, coming out of his laughter. He still wasn’t sure of this man’s intentions, but a vague recollection at the back of his mind told him that he was familiar and therefore trustworthy.

“Good. Now, tell me everything you remember starting from when you met me.”

Odd question, Link thought. “Okay, I remember… I remember this-this portal of sorts.” Link tried to bring up the memories from his foggy mind and managed to recount his meeting with the man in front of him.

“We walked through another portal and,” Link gasped. He froze as the next memory came to him. “We were in the sky, on a floating island.” His eyes were wide. It was as if he was experiencing something supernatural, but, somehow, all of this felt like he was eating seconds from the same dish. “How is that possible.”

“Keep going,” the man cajoled.

“I remember we met someone, someone who always wore some sort of cape. It was mostly white- Link! His name was also Link.”

The man nodded vigorously. “Yes, yes, keep going.”

Link’s face scrunched up as he thought, but every card he drew after that was blank. “That’s it.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it. Also, why are all our names Link?”

“We share the name of the hero’s spirit. You remember that much, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Link replied slowly.

“Okay, moving on,” the other Link said, waving his hand in the air. “What are your symptoms.”

***

Twilight was biting his nails. He couldn’t shake the thought of having Time distrust him so much that he perceived him as a threat.

Twilight paced back and forth across the kitchen as Wild finished up supper. “Your fingernails are down to stubs. If you go any further you’ll bleed,” Wild cautioned, sparing a glance at his mentor from his spot at the counter.

“What if he doesn’t remember any of us Wild? What if he sees us as dangerous? We can’t defeat Dark Link without him.” Twilight felt utterly defeated, but he wouldn’t let the others know that. He needed to be strong, but it was so much more difficult being a leader than Time made it out to be. The whole facade that he put up in front of the others was starting to crumble with every minute Time was struggling to remember.

“Twi, just be patient. He’ll come to his senses soon enough. In the meantime, you just need to put a little faith in him. Help him remember.”

Twilight took a deep breath. “You’re right. This isn’t going to fix itself.”

Twilight heard footsteps descending the stairs and swiftly turned around to see Warrior making his way toward them. “I have good news and bad news. Which do you want to hear first?”

“What’s the bad news,” Wild asked instead of Twilight.

“The bad news: Time doesn’t remember you,” Warrior said, addressing Twilight.

Twilight groaned. Of course, he knew as much, but he was hoping Warrior could get a different result despite his doubts. “What’s the good news then?”

“He remembers me and Sky. Meaning I was able to get him to trust that the rest of you won’t hurt him. He’s willing to speak to you. Also, there doesn't seem to be any  long-lasting side effects.”

Twilight released a breath he didn’t realise he was holding. It was a start, Time was willing to see him. If there was any chance of Twilight getting Time to recover, he’d take it. “Alright. I’ll go talk to him.” Twilight rushed forward but he was stopped as Warrior put a hand out in front of him, keeping him in place.

“Ah ah ah, not yet. Time’s resting. You should wake him up in about two hours to check if he’s okay. Do. Not. Force it. If he doesn’t remember you, it’s okay. Be patient.”

Twilight nodded sadly. He didn’t want to wait, but, for Time’s safety, he supposed he had no choice. “Thanks, Warrior.”

Warrior flashed Twilight a warm, reassuring smile before he turned to Wild. “I’m absolutely famished.”

“Well and grand. Supper is just about done. Mind setting up the table?”

“Sure.” Warrior set off to find the crockery and cutlery and Twilight stood, staring out the window, into the distance. “Something on your mind?” Wild inquired.

“What isn’t on my mind?”

“Fair. Go take a seat. I’ll save Time a plate.”

Twilight grudgingly obeyed and took a seat at the dining table. He folded his arms and rested his head on them. It had been a rough day for everyone and the fact that Time remembered Warrior and not him made him feel just a tad jealous.

The others had arrived and conversations were going over their meal, but Twilight was part of them. His focus was drawn to their most pressing issue and, as a result, he felt perpetually stressed.

Twilight didn’t notice Wild come up to him when everyone had left the table. “It’s been two hours-”

Twilight didn’t even let Wild finish his sentence before he sprang out of his chair and dashed to the stairs.

“Wait,” Wild called. “Take this.” In Wild’s hands was a plate of food. Twilight took the offered food with a knife and fork. “He might be hungry when he wakes up.”

“Thanks.” Twilight gave a wan smile and headed up to the master bedroom.

Once Twilight reached the door he knocked before he could think better of it. Twilight facepalmed. “Dammit, Link. Of course, he’s not going to answer the door.” But Twilight gave a surprised yelp when his mentor swung the door open. “Y-you’re supposed to be in bed,” Twilight chided.

Time looked, in every sense of the word, like a crook caught in the lamplight. His eyes were round and surprised and he simply stood there, staring at Twilight like he didn't quite know what to do next. 

"But I suppose that's a good sign, isn't it?" Twilight asked nervously, uncomfortable under the elder man's stare. "You waking up yourself? I don't really know the fine details of concussions but-"

He's cut off as the door is suddenly slammed shut and he's left of the other side gaping, the plate of food left uselessly in his hand. 

It took him a moment to find his voice. He reached up and knocked again. "Old man? It's me, Twilight, I just came to check up on you and give you some dinner!"

There's no answer and a spark of annoyance ignited in Twilight's chest. 

"I'm not going to hurt you," he called, knocking again, "I'm your friend. Warrior said you remembered him and Sky; I'm their friend too!" 

"Go away, please!" Time suddenly called on the other side of the door. 

Twilight rolled his eyes. "Sorry, buddy, can't do that. We have to make sure you're doing alright. The sun is setting and I don't think Malon will be back until morning, so you have to work with us for a little while longer." He reached forward and placed his hand on the doorknob, feeling a little like he's about to breach his mentor's privacy, but at the same time his mentor is acting very childish and Twilight can't just leave him be. 

The doorknob jiggled but did not open. Twilight scowled and huffed. "Very mature," he said, "unlock the door. Look, I know you're very hard-headed, but you have to let us help you. You have to let somebody in."

"Send someone else!" Time called. 

And that blow was almost physical. 

It definitely had him stumbling back like it. 

Deep breaths Twi. Deep breaths. "Look! I don't know why you don't like me all of a sudden, but I mean nothing but goodwill! Plus, Warrior said that you'd be willing to talk with me?"

"... I changed my mind."

"Old man," Twilight said in exasperation. "Time. Open the door." He jiggled the doorknob. "C'mon, I'm not going to bite you or whatever. Time! Please?" 

Nothing. 

Twilight had to step away to restrain himself from kicking the door down. 

"Fine! You win! But you will let someone in!"

He turned with a huff and walked back to the kitchen where the others were helping Wild clean up the kitchen but they all stopped when he entered the area, food going cold on the plate in his hand and face probably red. 

"That didn't take long," Hyrule said slowly. "Is he alright?" 

Twilight huffed and strides over to the younger hero, shoving the plate in his hands and then storming towards the front door. "He won't talk to me. It's your turn."

And then he was out the door before anyone could say a single thing. He stood in the cool evening air for a few seconds, panting like a wolfos. 

If Time wanted to act like a child, then that's fine by him. He took off walking, nowhere in particular, just in a random direction. He was sure though, that if anyone looked at him through the windows of the ranch, they'd see steam coming from his ears. 

-o-o-o-o-

Hyrule could only stand there a little dumbfounded by what had happened. It seemed Twilight’s behavior was a shock to the rest of them too because it took a good few beats of silence bore someone cleared their throat and attempted to make some semblance of a plan. 

“Hyrule… do you want to give Time his food?”

Hyrule looked at Legend, the one who had spoken, feeling like he was a trapped animal. There’s no way Time would react friendly with Hyrule. Not if he didn’t with Twilight. Hyrule barely even knew the guy. He respected him sure but it wasn’t like they had any kind of relationship or anything. 

His internal panic must have shown on his face because Sky gave a kind smile. “How about,” he said, taking the plate from Hyrule’s hands and setting it down on the kitchen table. “You invite him down to eat.”

“I don’t think he can handle a large company, Sky,” Warrior said, “he’s probably very tired still.”

“I think that for whatever reason he can’t handle our rancher’s company,” Sky retorted and everyone silenced. “And while Twilight is out blowing steam we can get him down here to talk to us as a group.”

Warrior bit his lip in thought before he sighed. “I see your logic. But we mustn't crowd him.”

“Maybe we can help him remember Twilight,” Wind offered.

“So by the time Twilight comes back, everything will be fine again,” Wild put in as well.

“Fine,” Warrior muttered, throwing his hands in the air. “Fine. But if we break him more, I won't take the fall with you all when Malon decides our lives are forfeit.”

It was meant to be a joke, but if the way the entire group stilled and became somber was an indication of anything, it certainly fell flat.

“Hyrule?” Four suddenly asked and Hyrule almost jumped a foot in the air, not expecting to be addressed.

“Yeah?”

“Are you going to get the old man?”

Heat flooded his face. “Y-yeah.”

He left the room before he could make a bigger fool of himself and practically scrambled up the stairs. He wondered what made Twilight so irritable. Did Time say something rude? And why was Time so insistent about not wanting to talk to Twilight? He wished he knew, that way he’d be more prepared with Time inevitably shut him down too. 

There was no way this would work, and he chanted it in his head like a mantra until he worked up the courage to knock on the door. There was silence for a few solid seconds, and then a voice called out in a more awake tone than what he had been expecting.

“Who is it?” 

Hyrule swallowed. “Um, Hyrule. Um- well, not Hyrule Hyrule. I- I’m the hero of Hyrule? So that’s what everyone calls me. It gets confusing sometimes and-”

The door was suddenly opened and he shut his jaw with a click.

Time stood there on the other side of the doorway, his single eye critically narrowed, almost like he was looking into Hyrule’s very soul. Hyrule squirmed under the gaze, but whatever Time was looking for seemed to be found because he stepped slowly out of the way to invite Hyrule in. Hyrule swallowed and stepped back. “Actually, we were wondering if you felt well enough to join us downstairs for some dinner?”

Time stilled and then he sighed. “I’m… not sure that is a good idea.”

“Twilight isn’t there,” Hyrule rushed out and Time’s eyebrows rose in slight surprise. “He went out. For a run or something, I think. The other’s all want to talk to you.”

Time remained silent for a second before he released a breath. “Did I hurt his feelings?”

“Who? Twilight?”

Time nodded and Hyrule swallowed. “Oh. Um. He’ll be fine.”

“I… I don’t recognize anyone, but each of you gives me a… sense of peace and safety. But Twilight… I don’t know why but I can’t bring myself to open up to him. I know I care about him, I can feel it in my bones that I care for each of you, but I… I can’t talk to him right now. I just hope I didn’t hurt his feelings.”

“I… yeah, he’ll get over it,” Hyrule repeated because he didn’t quite know what else to say. “He’s… strong. And whatever is off about him that you don’t like I’m sure will all make sense when you’re better.”

“When I’m better.”

“Yeah… so do you want to come down and eat or should I bring food up-”

“I’ll… come down. I feel trapped in this room, and some kind faces I think will help me feel better.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Hyrule stood there awkwardly as Time practically shuffled out of the doorway, his eyebrows drawn together with a tightness that could only be described as pain. His head must still be bothering him. Hyrule swallowed and took a step forward, ducking under one of his arms and grabbing onto Time’s side. Time made a thankful hum and wrapped his arm around Hyrule’s shoulders. 

“What is for dinner?” Time asked as Hyrule helped him down the first step. Hyrule grunted with his weight but was thankfully able to keep his balance for a few more steps. 

“Wild made Hearty Salmon Meuniere. It’s really good,” Hyrule grunted. 

They finally made it down onto the first floor and Hyrule almost bent over gasping, but he was stopped when Time squeezed his shoulder. 

“I don’t remember who you are,” Time mumbled, “but I have the sense that you’ve been through much. You are incredibly brave, little one.”

Hyrule swallowed, not really prepared for a revelation like that. “Everyone here is brave. You’ll see that I’m at the bottom of the ladder. It’s you who everyone looks up to. Everyone is taking this memory loss hard. Especially Twilight. I… I appreciate it though.”

“If the me without memories can tell how courageous you are, I’m sure the me with memories thinks even higher of you.”

Hyrule almost choked on his spit as his ears began to feel like they were on fire. 

“L-lets go. I’m sure the others all want to see you.”

-o-o-o-o-

The other’s all consisted of seven young men who for the life of him Link… or Time could not remember. He knew the faces. After they tell him their names he’s almost hitting his head against the wall in anger because how could he have possibly forgotten these young men?

Wind was a charming lad, and he gave Time the sense or recklessness and adventure. Curiosity. He smiled the widest when Time entered the room and talked the most like it wasn’t awkward at all. Time appreciated his energy. His kindness. It reminded him almost of himself before… before everything. Except, this young man somehow managed to keep that innocent part of him alive after his adventure. 

Legend was much on the opposite side of the scale. He can see the sadness in his eyes, but he can also see a spark of flame. The need for adventure still calls him, even though Time is quite confident that Legend has been through more than what he says. There had been many obstacles in his way, and he lost many parts of himself, but he still retains a kindness and carefulness that often goes unnoticed by his prickly exterior. He says things as they are, and Time can’t help but feel a large deal of respect towards the younger man.

Sky was… well, Sky was himself. Time’s impressions of him were that he was kind and positive and perhaps the happiest of the group. But he also has a righteous aura about him that Time isn’t particularly fond of. The sword on his back is confirmation of that. Yet, Time also knows that he would trust his life in Sky’s hands. 

Four was as blunt as a tree branch being used for swordplay. He didn’t dance around his words, and when Time asked for his story, he flatly said that Time had no business knowing. Time can respect that. Clearly, whatever relationship he had with Four was purely made out of trust. Neither knew that much about each other, but it didn’t matter. The boy had a quick mind and sharp tongue, and while he kept his secrets to himself, he still didn’t mind very much being around the others. 

Warrior, Time can’t help but feel a special bond with him. Besides himself, Warrior was clearly the eldest of the group. Time knew that this man has suffered much, and has seen much more, and yet he still went out of his way to be honorable. To be kind.

Wild was a special soul. Time instantly felt the need to pay special attention to how he acted. Searching for little signs that he was uncomfortable or happy or content. Time didn’t think Wild has had that much time to be himself. In fact, it almost felt like Wild was constantly watching himself to live up to someone else. Yet, despite all of that, Time could tell his smiles were genuine, his enthusiasm heartfelt. 

And of course, there was Hyrule. Insecure to a fault, yet his heart is bigger than that. He has a lot of heart. He might say he’s not that brave, but Time knew better. He knew that Hyrule has perhaps seen just as much hell as Time himself has.

The boys were all unique. Loud. Different. And even though the headache in his skull pulsed and his eyes felt heavier and heavier the night wore on, he wanted nothing more than to continue being in their company.

They told him stories. Tried their best to help him remember some of them. He couldn’t recall them all, like the one about how Legend apparently single-handedly fought off a hoard of moblins. He suspected that was just an attempt to butter himself up and trick Time’s memory. But the story Warrior told of the great Goron spice incident came almost immediately back to him with just a small bit of fuzz around the details. Wild looked scandalized at the mention of that story, seeing as it involved a piece of women’s clothing being found in his bad, but when Time started laughing, saying that he remembered that, all of the boys became eager to tell more silly stories about the rest of them.

Wild pulled out his strange slate and began a slide show of pictures, and quite some time passed and he hardly even felt his headache anymore.

Then, the slideshow stopped on a picture of a young man with dirty hair and markings on his forehead.

The mood instantly sunk, and Time couldn’t help but feel responsible for it. 

“He looks up to you a lot,” Four mumbled, “you’re… almost like a dad to him.”

And Time knew this. He knew this the moment he saw the picture down on the slate of that young man. Twilight… feels almost like a son to him too.

Now that some time has passed with the others, he can almost see how silly he was. Sure, he was out of it, memories shattered in his head like a mirror, and Twilight simply had the misfortune of being the one to find him. The misfortune of having dark magic within him that Time didn’t recognize. How foolish of him to make that mistake. How foolish of him to judge Twilight off of that simple misunderstanding.

Almost like a sign from the goddesses, Twilight chose that time to walk in the front door. His skin around his eyes, cheeks, and ears were red from perhaps the cold, perhaps something else. He stopped in his tracks as everyone turned to look at him but his eyes instantly locked with Time. 

There was something desperate in them, so instead of saying anything, Time smiled and scooted a little on the chair he was sitting on, making room for one more to join them at the kitchen table. Twilight smiled like the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders and quickly grabbed a chair and made his spot next to Time like it was the most natural thing in the entire world to do.

Laughter filled the rest of the night, and as they told yet another story Time hardly even noticed his head drooping with tiredness until an arm wound itself around his middle and hefted him upward. He did his best to cooperate with his feet, but it clearly wasn’t much help. He was eventually laid down on a soft sofa, a throw placed over his body, and before the calming embrace of sleep could take him he looked at the boy above him. How foolish of himself indeed to think this boy could ever hurt a fly.

-o-o-o-o-

Malon returned in the morning, a stash of red potions in her hands and an irritating story to tell about her next-door neighbors in the castle town inn. Though, her irritation quickly faded when she saw her husband happily resting on the downstairs sofa with a smile on his face. The boys tell her that they helped him remember most everything the night before and gave him much-needed company. When she was able to give him a red potion, the most it did was un-fog some of the trickier bits of his memory and rid him of his headache.

She didn’t complain when he pulled her close, dragging her into a love-filled kiss.

Wind made a gagging sound but Malon didn’t mind a single bit. Clearly, there was no need to worry. Her boy’s always pull through, one way or another. 

[chiauve]

Day 7: free day

Yeah this is long over but too bad. Time for young Birkin and Wesker pseudo cuddles maybe, with a touch of angst kinda.

----

Birkin didn’t like being home, but he loved being in his own bed again. His big, expensive, soft bed with all the blankets piled on top because it was the middle of winter. His pillow was a feather down one, old enough the fluff was mostly gone and it was a comfortable, malleable wad he could fold or flatten at his leisure. He rocked side to side until the blankets cocooned him and then wriggled into it until only a tuft of dirty blond hair was visible.

Bliss.

It was winter break and the university cleared out. Birkin had been, unfortunately, summoned home for Christmas and was in no position to say no. Even his declaration of dedication that required him to stay and study got him nothing but a guilt trip from his mother.

Wesker had no family and nowhere to go for the holidays, but he was content to stay in the room alone and catch up on the bit of work he missed on his last runabout. With copious amounts of smoking and drinking in between.

Birkin simply could not allow that. Let Wesker study while he was forced to go home and suffer familial drudgery? Birkin knew he was smarter than Wesker, but like hell he’d give the other boy a chance to get to his level.

Also he’d grown accustomed to Wesker being around. They worked well together, shared some of the same ideas, tried to outdo each other endlessly...and yet it was beneficial, pushing both of them to do better in an innate, assholish need to boot the other off their shared pedestal.

Suddenly the idea of actually being on that pedestal alone while facing his family did not seem so appealing.

He invited Wesker home with him, it was the charitable thing to do, after all, Wesker being all alone. Wesker didn’t fall for that but agreed anyway. Birkin assumed curiosity, or maybe he just didn’t want to be stuck in the dorms for two weeks. They were creepy enough when people were actually in them.

It immediately went downhill as William’s brother Caleb forgot to pick them up from the train station, followed by his parents deciding Wesker belonged in a dumpster somewhere and not in their house. They didn’t say this out loud, of course, for they were proper people of good breeding and treated their guests well even if they hated their guts. Snide comments aside, and outright insults whenever said guest wasn’t present.

Wesker was declared a Tommy faggot by William’s father as soon as he left with Caleb to be shown the guest room.

“He’s not British, dad,” William sighed in frustration.

His father just hmphed at him, reminded him firmly to watch his tone, and straightened the newspaper before grilling him on his schooling and the unbridled stupidity of not becoming a medical doctor like Caleb, like him, like his father...et cetera ad nauseum.

Dinner was a disaster for everyone and William eventually tuned it out. He was good at that. It came in handy when trying to study and work, but in this case he kept looking at Wesker.

How he remained so calm and collected while being passively insulted was beyond Birkin, especially considering Wesker had a hell of a temper sometimes. More than that...he was required by house rule to be presentable for dinner. Caleb loaned him some clothes and with hair gel they tamed Wesker’s mop into a ponytail that could be tucked under the collar of his shirt.

With his face free of a framing of hair and his usual shades, Wesker looked...good. Birkin never really noticed before. Oh, he acknowledged Wesker was dealt a far better hand than him in the looks department but it had otherwise barely registered. Now it did.

He had...a pleasing facial structure. His eyes were pale, almost drab grey, but somehow very intense at the moment. He was raging inside, but somehow managed to keep it under control, playing nice with false smiles and his own ever so polite underhanded insults and suggestions. Nothing outright that his hosts could take offense at, but enough.

Birkin sat in discomfort as a weird sensation formed in his belly and traveled downward.

The feeling was stalled when Birkin noticed his older sister Beatrice also giving Wesker intensive look-overs. Gross.

He didn’t apologize to Wesker after the meal and the other boy didn’t expect one. After showing Wesker around the large house, including the impressive family library, they went over some notes from classes together in Birkin’s room and then parted for the night.

And Birkin was comfortable and had no intention of moving.

He startled awake at the sound of his door opening. Blinking blearily he checked the alarm clock by his bed. It was past one in the morning. The silhouette in his doorway was immediately recognizable by long hair before it disappeared as Wesker shut the door behind him.

Birkin’s eyes adjusted as Wesker dropped something on the floor. His sleeping bag. It was permanent inventory in his duffel he took everywhere.

“What are you doing?” Birkin hissed from his blanket mound.

“Your guest room sucks,” Wesker muttered.

Birkin stuck his head out of the blankets to gape in both confusion and annoyance at Wesker. Their guest room was designed with the idea that if someone of great import arrived at their home they would have the greatest comforts; the bed and sheets were the best, the decor tasteful but not overwhelming, their own bathroom and shower, a shelf of books of various genres, and one of the best views in the house overlooking the garden, meticulously maintained by the help.

And Wesker preferred the floor in his sleeping bag? Birkin knew he was weird but even Wesker recognized...

Wesker was jittery. His hands shook a little as he unzipped his sleeping bag.

He did not do jittery, or unnerved, not where anyone could see him, anyway.

Again, Birkin asked, “What are you doing?”

Wesker dropped the sleeping bag with a sigh, crossing his arms and looking anywhere but at Birkin. “Your house makes weird noises.”

A lie, and a shitty one at that. The house did get loud when it settled, it was old, but like that would bother Wesker. He could sleep anywhere. Did, with those shades on his face most times.

“Fine,” Birkin grumbled, let Wesker do weird Wesker things, “sleep in here tonight, then get out.” He rolled over and put his back to the other boy and tried to wriggle back into the blankets.

It was quiet a long time, no sound of Wesker getting into his sleeping bag, or of him leaving. Suddenly the mattress dipped as Wesker slid onto the bed.

A third time, “What are you doing!?” Birkin quietly shrieked.

“Your bed’s big enough, I’m not gonna sleep on a hardwood floor if I don’t have to,” Wesker said, giving Birkin a shove to make him worm over.

“You don’t have to, go back to your room!”

“No.”

It was harsh and it was desperate. He could feel the slight tremors through the mattress.

Birkin twisted himself just enough he could turn his face to Wesker. He didn’t want to ask, but, “What happened?”

Wesker’s back was to him, his arms crossed petulantly, but his flat voice was anything but. “I don’t know.”

Birkin grumbled and sighed. He didn’t like that tone, not from Wesker. It was tired, almost defeated, and Birkin should relish it from his rival but he didn’t.

When it came down to it, Wesker was his only ally in the whole world.

He kicked at his blankets until they came loose from around him. “Get under here, then,” he groused, “before you freeze.” The heating at night was minimal and Wesker’s night getup was a worn t-shirt and boxers.

Wesker turned his head and gave him a long look before he complied, grabbing the blankets and snaking himself under them. Birkin yelped at his cold feet.

“Is this going to cause a problem? If we’re caught like this?” Wesker asked.

“Nobody bothers me unless I oversleep.”

Wesker nodded and settled himself. He always woke up before Birkin anyway.

“Just for tonight,” Birkin repeated.

“Of course.”

They lay back to back a long time until, half asleep, Birkin rolled over and wriggled against the other boy, enjoying the source of heat. Wesker said nothing nor moved away.

He left when the sun rose, returning to the guest room to make use of the private bathroom while Birkin battled it out with his older siblings for the shared one and lost.

Wesker’s sleeping bag remained kicked under Birkin’s bed. The guest bed remained unused, and every morning for the rest of their vacation Birkin woke up with long blond hair in his mouth and snuggling his roommate.

It was Birkin’s best Christmas vacation.

[diagnosed-by-doyle]

Sick Day pt. 1 (OC x Nobunaga)

This is the first half, aka the no-smut half. The second part will come once I stop being embarrassed about writing it.

Warning: NSFW

~~~~~

Oh god. I had no idea that this kind of literature existed during the Sengoku period. And why would it be in the castle library?! A ragged breath slipped past my lips as I rubbed my thighs together.

There was no doubt in my mind that I was completely soaked. I could feel it when I moved. The words on the pages in front of me were just so vivid. The descriptions drove my mind wild.

“Elizabeth, are you alright? Your face is flushed.”

“Ah!” I’d nearly hit my head on the wall behind me. “Don’t scare me like that, Hideyoshi!” I averted my eyes from his intense stare and closed the book as casually as I could.

“You might be sick. Here, let me check.” He leaned over the small table to put the back of his hand against my forehead. “You do feel a little warm. You haven’t been overworking yourself, have you?”

“I’m fine! Your hands are just cold. If you’ll excuse me, I have things to do.” I got up and slid the book back into its place on the shelf, cutting my break short. “You should warm up before you go back out. I wouldn’t want you to get a cold.” I quickly walked out before he had a chance to say anything. I really hope he doesn’t look at that book. I’d be absolutely mortified.

Since I was no longer distracted, I decided that I may as well get back to my work. What was next on my list? That’s right, I needed to change out the flower arrangements in the castle. I gathered the things I would need and set out to begin the actual task.

Each vase was taking me a lot longer than it usually did. And why was that? I kept getting distracted. My thoughts kept returning to that book, and whenever I thought about the book, my mind naturally wandered to Nobunaga and what it would feel like if he did those things to me. When I imagined him filling me so completely, I had to steady myself against the wall. I had to shake my head to get rid of the idea of finding somewhere private to take care of my little problem.

“So you are sick.”

I looked up and saw Ieyasu watching me. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough to know you’re struggling to keep your balance. Honestly, you should take better care of yourself. You’re just making more work for the rest of us.” He pulled a small container out from his sleeve. “Drink this.”

I stared at it for a second then picked up my supplies so I could go to the next spot. “I don’t need medicine. I’m fine, really. I’m sorry that you had to waste time making that for me.” Not giving him time to make me take it, I hurried away.

After finally finishing with the flowers, I decided that I should next take inventory in the kitchen. I did tell the kitchen staff this morning that I would do it. Once I found a pen and the papers I would need, I headed over to the kitchen’s storage room.

Of course, in order to get the kitchen’s storage room, I had to go through the kitchen. As I got closer, I could smell something really good. Who was cooking at this time? The staff wouldn’t start working on dinner for another few hours. When I walked in, there was Masamune stirring a pot’s contents.

“That smells good. What are you making?” I asked as I walked past him.

“Perfect timing, lass! I’m working on a new soup recipe. I want you to taste it in a moment.”

“Uhh, alright. I’ll just be in here,” I responded as I walked into the storage room.

As I was working, I felt like I was finally getting over my desperate need for Nobunaga to take me. I was actually able to focus on what I was doing instead of imagining his abs and chest glistening with sweat as he pounded into--

“Alright, I’m ready for you to come taste it.”

Well, guess I was wrong. I wrote down the number for what I had been counting and stepped back into the kitchen. The one-eyed warlord was holding a small tasting bowl out to me. “There’s nothing solid, so you can just drink it.”

“Okay.” I licked my lips in anticipation. It wasn’t every day that I got to taste Masamune’s cooking. I brought the bowl up to my lips eagerly. I was just about to open my mouth and let it flow in when something threw me off. It was the smell. That’s not the same smell I smelled earlier, it was-- I narrowed my eyes and set the bowl down on the table. “You’ve been talking to Hideyoshi and Ieyasu.”

His smile turned into an irritated frown. “You’ve got a better nose than I gave you credit for. You need to take that medicine and go to bed.”

“If I can stand here and argue with you about it, I think that means I’m perfectly fine.”

The door to the kitchen slid open, and one of the aids walked in. “Lord Masamune, Lord Nobunaga has called a war council. Oh! Princess Elizabeth, why aren’t you resting?”

Jeez. Did the whole castle think I was sick or something? “Why would I be doing that? This work isn’t going to do itself.”

“Forgive me. Lord Nobunaga has ordered that the castle staff cover your duties until you’re well.”

I facepalmed. Even Nobunaga had heard! This was getting really out of hand. “You know what? I’m going to that war council too. I have a few things I’d like to say.” The aid looked like he was about to say something against it, so I quickly added. “I’m not sick, so there’s nothing to worry about.”

Together, Masamune and I walked to the audience chamber where the war council was to be held. We were, of course, the last to arrive. He quickly took his seat while I stood at the end of the two rows of warlords, across the room from Nobunaga, who looked surprised to see me when I first glanced at him. Okay, looking at him so doesn’t help. That quick glance only made my desire to have him inside me intensify.

I crossed my arms. “Which one of you overdramatic blabbermouths went and told everyone that I’m sick?

Mitsunari looked up at me, his eyebrows raised. “Are you not? But you look like you’re burning up!”

Mitsuhide just smirked as he eyed me. “Illness isn’t the only thing that causes someone to look like that.”

Hideyoshi frowned. “You can’t expect us to believe that you’re not sick, Elizabeth. Your face is getting more red by the minute.”

“That’s because I’m angry! You people gossip like a bunch of old women in a sewing circle! I can’t get done with a single thing without someone asking if I’m sick or trying to trick me into drinking medicine. And that last one’s an issue of its own. Who do you think I am? I have enough respect for the people around me that I would take medicine of my own free will if I was sick. I’m not--”

“Elizabeth!” Nobunaga’s voice boomed through the audience chamber, silencing me immediately. After a few seconds, he spoke with his usual volume. “Look at me.”

“No.” I’d gladly look anywhere except at him right now. If we didn’t have an audience, things would be much different.

“No?” I could feel him watching me. “Why?” Even those few words were doing things to me. I wanted to listen to him whisper naughty things in my ear while his fingers pumped in and out of me mercilessly.

“Reasons,” I answered simply.

He chuckled. “What’s caused this rebellion of yours?”

“Things that I would rather not discuss at present.” I was probably going to make a fool out of myself with this next bit, but I had to give him hints or he would just worry. “But if you must know, I heard there’s a certain territory suffering without the attention of its lord.”

A gasp came from Mitsunari. “That’s terrible! We should send someone to help.”

When Nobunaga spoke, I could hear the smirk in his voice. “Fine then. Go wait for me in the tenshu. When I’m done here, I’ll have you report to me the territory’s complaints. I won’t keep you waiting long.”

Ieyasu huffed, clearly annoyed. “Why do we have to listen to this? Could you two be any more obvious?”

I turned to leave. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Maybe you should have Masamune feed you some of his medicine-laced soup. It’s a new recipe he came up with today.”

[rittywritestdp]

Can you please do a Aaravos x female human mage fic, who is related to calum (maybe it takes place years before the events of tdp and the reader takes one look at aaravos and quickly falls for him)

oh my god bless you, yes. Okay so the reader is going to be an adopted daughter of Amaya here, and the King’s Niece. 

✴Aaravos x Royal!Mage!Reader

“Alright, that will conclude the lesson.” Viren said, both hands atop his staff. “I have a meeting with King Harrow, clean the study, and get some lunch.” Viren said, to both you and young Claudia. He smiled at his daughter, before turning to leave. Which left you with the little fourteen year old who was already stepping to begin cleaning up the small pile of squished beetles and butterflies. You moved silently to the beakers and vials, picking the tray up and stepping to the water basin. “When do you think Father will let me use these things we’re learning?” Claudia complained. “I started when I was fifteen.” You replied easily. You liked Claudia, but Viren favored her. He would never pay you the same attention that he paid her, which you suppose you could understand, she was his daughter after all. The part that bothered you is the fact that he encouraged her to learn spells that he wouldn’t even allow you to copy into your spellbook. He claimed Harrow and Amaya wouldn’t allow him to teach you anything more advanced. You didn’t want to believe that. “I want to start nowwwww.” Claudia moaned, tossing the carcasses of the bugs out the window and tossing the rag she’d cleaned with into the washbasin. “I’ve copied all the spells, I know all the words.” She complained “Have you asked him about it?” You tried, placing the books you’d used back onto the shelves. “Are you insane?” Claudia laughed, starting towards the door to exit the study. “Do you want to come get lunch with me?” She asked, and a smile pulled at your lips. That sounded nice. “Sure.” You replied, starting after the younger girl, just as a book fell from the shelf and hit you on the foot. “Ouch!” Claudia laughed. You grasped your foot in pain, you didn’t even realize what you were looking at for a long moment. The moment your eyes focused, and you saw the tome you knew well with pages you’d never seen before, your mind swam. ‘Stay.’ The words said. You furrowed your brows, blinking at it. “Y/N?” Claudia asked, her laughter stopped, her footsteps started to return. You practically fell on the book, closing it and grasping your foot. “This just….really really hurts Clauds, I’ll. I’ll catch up with you in a moment.” You quickly thought up anything you could to get her away. “Did you break your toe??” Claudia asked, coming near to lean down and look over you worriedly. “It will pass, I just need a moment.” You told her. She stared at you, concerned, before nodding and exiting the study. You let your foot go and closed the door, pressing the book open trepidatiously and dragging your finger down a page you’d read a thousand times. Maybe…you were hallucinating? Perhaps it was a symptom of the magic you used. Then the words on the page dripped and then poured and black colored the entire page. ‘Good’ written out in white against the inky background. You were silent, you tipped the book up and tried to look for runes or sigils, to look for any sign that this was a spell or a trick that Lord Viren was playing. ‘Two horn worms, three pinches of dragons tongue, a smidge of powdered quarts, and a single drop of blood. Sir ath athin no thore.’ “A spell? I cannot cast without Lord Viren to supervise me.” You cleverly said, Lord Viren was surely behind this and that was exactly what he would want to hear. You stood, and placed the book on the shelf, before going to meet with Claudia. On your way back from the Kitchens, you nearly ran directly into Viren. He must just now be on his way to eat. You remember the book, and you think of the test. Had he truly met with King Harrow? Or had it simply stepped out to test you from afar? “So when’d you learn to control books?” You grinned, trying to show off how clever you were. Viren didn’t smile, his eyebrow raised ever-so-slightly. He seemed to be willing to humor you, but not amused.“You’re just upset you bruised your toe.” Claudia giggled as she slipped past the two. Viren furrowed his brows, first at his daughter then at you.“Th…the Compendium of Magical Components?” You tried. Viren didn’t answer, he simply waited for an explanation. “It fell from the bookcase?” “And hit your toe?” Viren asked, voice dry. “Yes.” You answered, seeming stupider by the moment. “Then perhaps put books away properly?” He said, passing by you and moving into the kitchens. You stood, deadpanning the hallway before you. So…it wasn’t a test? It wasn’t Lord Viren. He doesn’t play tricks, and he doesn’t lie about tests. You nodded, trying to think of any possible explanation, before starting at a slow and inconspicuous pace back to Lord Viren’s Study. A few guards noticed you, but it was normal to come in here. “Just, just going to do…inventory for Lord Viren.” You nervously told Marco. He was a nice guard who just got assigned to some of the lower priority Guard Stations. Marco nodded, not sure what to do with that information, and you slipped into the study, immediately thumbing the shelves for the Compendium of Magical Components. A brown and silver tome, well-worn and thick. You pulled it from the shelf and turned it to the exact page you’d been on before, rubbing the page until you saw it swirling into a black, inky abyss. Tossing it onto the desk, you began to gather the components, and a pestle and mortar. Then you remembered that this….wasn’t sanctioned. You drew the curtains, not before seeing Soren out sparing with your mother. Not before Soren seeing you. And then getting shield bashed with a thankfully wooden shield and knocked to the ground. You slammed the curtains closed and instead imagined seeing your mother berating the poor boy for looking away. Then you picked a chair up and propped it against the study door. If anyone tried opening it and couldn’t, you could be in trouble, but you’d be in more trouble if anyone saw what you were doing. All of the components, ground up, even the drop of blood - produced from a needle prick. Finally you recited the very simple incantation, and the moment the magic faded you saw a room in the bowl. In. The. Bowl. Lord Viren had never let you cast spells more complicated than…than… a light spell, this was…out of your league. And out of your experience. A haze of tiredness washed over you, and you closed your eyes for a moment. Then the page of the book flipped as though a stiff breeze washed over it, and your eyes snapped open. You didn’t even have time to look at the book, however, for a pair of purple eyes, the sclera black, eyed you. The faintest crescent on the creature’s dark purple lips. Were those stars on their cheeks? Whatever…whoever they were…they were beautiful. Simply enchanting. “Who…are you?” You asked, voice low. They shook their head so gently, and raised a Startouched finger to press against their lips. You felt yourself growing warm just looking at this person, and nodded. They raised a book, and flipped the page to one of black. The same words that you’d just read. Their drug their finger in a line, and you cast your eyes to the book. The very same line. ���Who are you?’ You asked. ‘My name has no meaning to you.’ the book replied. You frowned slightly. ‘What are you?’ ‘Here to help.’ the book said, and you looked into the little bowl to see them smiling playfully. ‘With what?’ ‘Magic.’ You raised your eyebrows, and made sure to let them see your surprise. The page was wiped clean of your words, and blank and black once more. ‘I have a mentor.’ ‘I will teach you anything your heart desires.’ The book read and you felt your heart start to pick it’s pace up with each syllable you read. The words swam in your head and you swallowed thickly. Lord Viren would not be happy to know about this person. Lord Viren could not know about this person. A sharp knock came to the door, and you nearly jumped out of your skin, dumping the potion into the wash basin and slamming the book closed, picking it up and sliding it into the empty spot on the shelf where it belonged before scooting the chair out of the way and opening the door with the largest smile on your face that you could muster. Soren. He smiled, face red and hair sticking to his sweaty forehead. “H-hey, how’s it.” He paused, shuffling his helmet over to his other arm and leaning against the door, feet crossed cooly. “How’s it hanging?” He tried.“Fine, fine, why do you ask?” You laughed, almost nervously. He quirked his lips sideways, a thought moving through his mind (you could always see Soren’s thoughts, as his face always scrunched in one way or another as he thought. “Oh, I just. Are you busy?” He asked. He was already red faced but you assumed he would be flushing now, had it not. “Yes.” You replied curtly. “C-Cataloging inventory for Lord Viren.” You added, to make it less suspicious. Soren immediately deflated. “Ah, yeah, okay. Cool cool.” He nodded, peeking past you into the room. “Well, better get back to work.” You said, smiling and pressing the door closed, before turning and sliding down to sit with your back against the door. You didn’t have time for Soren, you were enamored with whoever that was on the other side of the window-potion. You were in love. This turned out….longer than I meant it to. I just…love Aavaros okay, thanks. *Side-Note, I personally didn’t realize Aavaros was male until he spoke so I transferred that to the reader lmao-☼

[hestiamuse]

He Sways, a Good Omens fanfic

Aziraphale didn't question why Crowley was still hanging around the bookshop. It was still early enough in their marriage that the novelty of togetherness hadn't worn off. Not by a long shot! What he didn't understand was why he seemed content to simply watch him do inventory. Once a year, he took a tally of his books, and attempted at organizing them. Unfortunately, this couldn't be done with a simple miracle or he'd never find anything. Crowley had offered to help a few times, in varying, declining tones of sincerity, but Aziraphale insisted that he had a system, thank you for the kind offer, but no assistance was required.

So, Crowley was content just to watch, his sunglasses slid up on top of his head, not hiding the fact that he was staring. It was his absolute favorite day of the year, and it was all because of a certain angel's inability to stand still. As he counted and realphabetized and sorted his hoard, he had an unconscious tic that drove Crowley wild. He swayed, he shimmied, he wiggled back and forth. Crowley had to muffle his aroused groans as he admired him. Like some exotic bird doing a mating dance. Those contented little pivots as he pondered thoughtfully among the dusty bookcases. He looked perfectly scrumptious.

Those legs, those hips! The demon was helpless to Aziraphale's unintended charm. He slouched loosely in his seat, holding his head up on his hand, elbow propped on a knee, still in danger of utter collapse. Each twitch and swivel, each shift of weight from foot to foot held him in rapt attention. And he'd be doing this all day! Crowley wished he'd thought to bring a decent camera, but he shot a short video on his phone just to keep with him.

“Crowley? What in the blazes are you sighing about in there?”

“You,” he answered honestly. “That cute twitchy dance you're doing while you work.”

Aziraphale stopped cold, getting a disappointed noise from his audience. “The what?”

“Oh, don't stop, angel, it's adorable,” Crowley said in his low, lazy voice as he crept into the front room.

Aziraphale looked incredulous, not to mention self-conscious. He looked hard at his husband, trying to determine if he was making fun of him. “It is?” Crowley nodded eagerly. “Do I...do I do this...often?”

The very turned-on demon slouched carelessly against a nearby bookcase with his arms folded over his chest. “Yeah, well, 'snot all the time...but when you're happy...sometimes when you're nervous. Good way to gauge your mood, really. I like your happy wiggles.”

“Why didn't you tell me about this sooner? How long have you noticed me doing this??” Aziraphale sounded annoyed that he had such a prominent tic that he didn't even realize. He made a conscious effort to tamp down his sudden impulse to do his “nervous wiggle”. It was strange, now that he was aware of it, he wondered how he could have ever missed it! He gripped the shelf he stood at until his knuckles turned white, his feet planted firmly on the floor, forcing himself to stand still! It surprisingly took a considerable effort!

“You've done it as long as I've known you. I figured you knew. Look, I'm sorry I said anything. I didn't mean to make you all self conscious.” Regret was clear in his voice, making Aziraphale certain that he was never laughing at him about this. “I like it, that's all.”

“Well,” the angel sniffed haughtily, “like it or not, I'm going to try to break the habit. I don't want to look...ridiculous.” In his mind, he could hear Uriel calling him that, that scornful sneer on their face. Aziraphale cringed. “What else do I do? What else do I do that's...different?”

Crowley sighed. This wasn't going the way he wanted. He'd meant to pay his husband a compliment, and now it looked like he'd never see his happy little dance again. “Promise you won't stop doing this one, too?”

“Depends.”

“You sparkle.”

“I what?!”

“Not—not like Tinkerbell or anything, but...when you do that smile and your eyes light up like stars...you sparkle,” Crowley explained, trying to describe it to such a downcast version of his beloved was difficult. The creature that stood apologetically before him looked like he'd never sparkled in his life. “Come on, Az. I hate to see you so down. Look, I made a video. It's really steamy, actually.” He hit play and showed him his screen.

Aziraphale watched the short video that Crowley had shot of him shelving books and doing his little shimmy. He looked in disbelief from the screen to his husband. “That?! You think that's...steamy?” He unconsciously gave his hips a little twitch as if in sympathy with the image on the screen. Crowley smiled. “No. Crowley, no. Oh, lord, do you think other people noticed?”

“What other people, angel? How many other people have we been around enough for them to pick up on your little twitches? And if they did, so what? Either they couldn't possibly care less, or they thought it was cute, too. Nobody's going to make fun of you for the way you move.”

“You said I did it when I'm nervous.”

“Well, yeah, sometimes. Especially if you're lying, or giving an answer you don't like.”

Aziraphale got to the real issue. “So...they probably saw,” he gave the ceiling a significant glance.

Crowley spluttered meaninglessly. “Y—w—ugh....So what if they did? They can't control you anymore. You don't answer to them anymore. You don't answer to anyone anymore! You're in charge! You don't have to give a damn about what anyone else thinks.” And with that, he stalked back into the lounge, throwing himself back onto the sofa, furious with himself for bringing it up.

For a minute, Aziraphale just stood there, then he went back to work, keeping a tight rein on his impulses this time. He winced. Now that he wasn't letting himself move naturally, it felt wrong. In his effort to keep his bottom half still, he found it creeping up into his shoulders. He heaved a sharp breath as he strove for control...then brought a fist down into the shelf with a frustrated growl.

Crowley grimaced, tutted, and shook his head. Then, he grinned to himself as he got an idea. He wound up Aziraphale's old gramophone and put on some Tchaikovsky, slowly turning the volume up until he was certain it would be heard across the room.

Aziraphale heard music...slowly he relaxed and smiled, this record was one of his favorites. He adored waltzes. He let out a relieved sigh, as if he felt the sweet music soak right into his soul. Aziraphale closed his eyes and waved a finger in the air in time to the music with a happy little hum. “Right, back to work,” he muttered to himself. He went back to his clipboard and his books, sorting and counting. He didn't realize when his movements started to slide into ¾ time. A little music certainly helped with the task at hand, and beat back the dull monotony, not to mention it soothing away his frustration. He hoped that Crowley would remember to flip the record or at least start it again when it had run out.

He hummed along pleasantly, not even stopping himself when he realized exactly what his demonic husband had done. He had to admit that this felt better, more in tune with his nature, and there was no need to stop just because someone noticed. Aziraphale crossed the doorway, grinning naughtily to himself as he willfully performed a temptation. He let his hips wiggle as he began inventorying the next shelf...then he turned to Crowley and sparkled.

Crowley looked like he'd died and gone to Heaven, watching those smooth, gliding, swaying motions set to music. It gave him a touch of pride that Hell had gotten Tchaikovsky in the end. He sighed helplessly as he longed to grab those hips that wiggled so enticingly. That adorable tummy that just stuck out over his waistband...He was the happiest infernal creature in all the world.

“So, what do I do? Do I do anything like that?” Crowley was suddenly curious what he didn't know about himself. If something that big could escape Aziraphale's notice for all this time, he was bound to have something!

“Hmm? Oh, you mean apart from your walk?”

“My walk?”

“Mm. Like you don't have any bones in your legs.” Aziraphale smiled, “It's cute. It's you. I like it, it's...snakey.” He flashed another mischievous smile at him before turning his attention back to the task at hand, feeling content that they were now even.

He carried on working for another hour or two, until he'd actually forgotten Crowley's observations altogether. Until he heard a rasping, gliding sound across the floor. He caught a split-second glimpse of a large black snake, and the next thing he knew, Crowley had his arms wrapped around his waist, his face pressed against his neck, groaning low in his throat.

“Please, may I have this dance?”

This fic is brought to you by this gif set https://dailygoodomens.tumblr.com/post/185678181658/lesbianomens

[nikkzwrites]

1, 8, 18, and/or 27 for Sunny Lodge prompts?? (Sorry, I had a bit of a hard time choosing just one. 😅 Feel free to only do what you’re comfortable with.)

It’s no problem. You chose almost the perfect combination~! Some of those prompts were more like “imagine” type prompts while others are a quite a bit longer. So I can make all of it flow well. It will be #27: Scholar, #8 Books, #1: Fire, #18 Flowers all mixed in within that general order. I hope you like it~!

The small village of Alverton really didn’t have much in the form of entertainment. Eddie let his fingers skim the spines of the books within the local library. He counted himself lucky to even have this if he were to be honest with himself. He stood back for a second to look at the entire shelf at once. This was the problem with living in such a small village.  He had read most of the books here while he was still in New York. He sighed. Eddie felt a slight nudge in his back. He let out a pained breath. He turned to see a soft looking man in glasses. His dark hair was already graying. Eddie looked at him more carefully. Maybe it was all just dust. The wool suit the man was wearing looked caked in it. 

“I-I-I’m sorry,” The man stumbled. He knelt down to grab some of the books he dropped then looked up. He adjusted his glasses as he stood up. The man looked over Eddie and exclaimed, “Oh, excuse me sir. I don’t think we’ve met.” He placed his books on a table not too far away. He walked back with an extended hand in which Eddie took and shook. “My name is Bruce,” The man greeted him, “Bruce Banner.” He chuckled.

Eddie laughed and said, “The name is Edward Brock. Everyone calls me Eddie though.” He smiled and said, “It is very nice to meet you.”

Bruce’s eyes widened, “Oh, you are Eddie Brock.” He scrambled to his table and back with a letter in hand, “You are our lovely teacher’s Eddie Brock and the young Peter Parker’s Eddie Brock.” He looked up at him with a very wide smile.

Eddie blushed and opened his mouth to speak.

“Oh dear, did I overexcite and get ahead of myself,” Bruce asked becoming downtrodden.

Eddie shook his head. “Oh no,” Eddie snickered through his embarrassment, “I guess I just have never heard it put in that way.” He smiled to comfort his new companion, “It is an awfully delighting thing to hear. It makes this new place of residency feel a bit more like a home.”

Bruce’s eyes brightened once more, “Oh that is splendid to hear. I know my darling friend would enjoy hearing that being uttered from your lips. Her words simply drip with admiration for you.”

Eddie felt his heart on fire. He felt everything burning. As much as he loved to hear that his dearly beloved talked so well of him, he felt uneasy about this man. “Oh, and what is your relation-”

“Oh,” Bruce exclaimed again, “I am sorry. I must have troubled you. My friend could only have interested me if her name was Alvin instead.” He chuckled.

Eddie’s eyes widened as he nodded in understanding, “Oh.” He let the information process for a second before letting his body relax. He had not even released his tension before then. He ran his hand through his hair and smiled, “Well thank you for explaining to me.”

After a bit, Bruce and Eddie walked through the bookcases talking. They were laughing and smiling until Bruce put his arm out in front of his new friend and pulled the both of them a little bit back. Eddie blinked and tilted his head at his new confidant. Bruce held a finger to his lips and nodded around the corner. He motioned to the body sitting at the fire.

This weekend was quiet for you. Peter had decided to go visit the girl he loved instead of you today. Feeling lonely, you decided to get up and walk yourself to the library. When you got there though, you were surprised not to see your old friend there. You figured maybe Bruce had gone to the city to gather more books that may have been released since his last visit. You took this time to walk and study the books. You sat yourself down with a copy of Sense and Sensibility next to the fire.

Bruce smiled at Eddie and nudged him forward to motion to go talk to you. He winked and turned to pretend to get an inventory of what the library had so that he was out of the two lovebird’s way.

Eddie cleared his throat as he walked over to you. He smiled as you looked up at him. Your soft face made his world feel full. Your eyes entrapped his. Eddie laughed letting his eyes close. He shook his head and took this momentary chance of freedom to glance at what you were reading. He sat next to you and asked, “So what are you reading?”

You smiled up at the man, “Oh hello Eddie. I didn’t know you were here.” You placed a bookmark within the pages of the beloved novel to talk to the man who held your soul. You turned to face him better, “I am just reading the novel Sense and Sensibility.” You explained to him with a small smile.

Eddie smiled and asked, “Oh, you like romance novels?” He teased with a laugh.

“Well I am not having any for myself, so I must read and imagine it for myself,” you equally teased back.

Eddie fain hurt and held a hand to his heart. “Oh, you must be making jest,” Eddie laughed.

You laughed with him as the fire crackled in the background.

That night, a fire roared as it consumed a house not too far from where the Parker’s once lived. The entire community had gathered to help, but sadly it seemed in vain. When Eddie and Peter got there, they both tried to help with the fire line.

Peter turned to Eddie went a young girl came out. “I’m going-”

Eddie nodded knowing what Peter was talking about and said, “Please hurry back.”

You held your arms to the redheaded girl and encapsulated her into your arms. “Oh Jean, are you alright,” You asked as you rubbed her arms.

Jean pulled away with tears in her eyes, “No ma’am... My family is still in there. They haven’t come out yet.” Peter had heard this as he was walking up. He turned and ran inside the opened door in which Jean had came from. He closed the door behind him. You screamed as you watched Peter run inside. You felt yourself start to cry as you tried to fight some of the other women to run after him.

Eddie turned when he heard your cry of despair. He dropped everything and ran to your side. “What is it,” He asked you cradling you within his arms, “What’s wrong?”

“He-He..” You cried. You pointed inside where Eddie could see a shadow running amongst the flames, “Pe-Pe-Peter ran inside.” You clung to him and cried.

Eddie stiffened up. He turned watching the boy. He gently handed you off to Bruce who had also rushed to your side. He pat your head and whispered, “I’m going to get him.” He nodded a confirmation to Bruce and ran inside.

Black smoke surround Peter. There was so much of it. He coughed and sputtered as he tried to call for Jean’s parents. He eventually fell to the floor. As he looked up, he saw a large fully black creature lifting him and placing him on its back. Peter, then, lost consciousness again.

Eddie had ran around back of the house. He took in a deep breath and sighed. He called to the dark entity that also resides in his body. “Venom,” he whispered beneath his sigh.

Yes Edward, The voice dripped itself back into a more accessible part of the man’s mind.

“I need you,” Eddie answered.

Venom started his growth over the other man, I can see that. What will I get in return?

Eddie sighed and implored, “Please let’s talk about that later.”

The symbiote grew over his face. He chortled and ran into the fire to go and retrieve Eddie’s adopted son. When he grabbed hold of him, he placed the boy on his back and ran out. Eddie forced the dark passenger back off his body as he ran outside. He forced it off his front first letting it slither back into his back and into his spine.

You ran over to your two boys when they had emerged. You kissed their faces relieved that they had returned to you safely. Your tears cleaned the soot off the two’s faces.

It had been several months since that incident. You turned in your bed to see the lavender bundle next to your bed within a pitcher. You heard scurrying across the floor. You stretched and pulled yourself out of your bed. You walked out of your small bedroom. When you left it, you saw your new girl hurrying about. You laughed and asked, “Jean, what is going on?”

Jean froze and turned to look at her adopted mother. She flushed and stuttered, “Oh, well, I... I was just... I was just preparing...”

“Preparing for what,” You playfully inquired.

“Oh...Uh, Peter had invited the both of us out for a picnic,” She explained stuttering.

You smiled and asked, “Well why didn’t you wake me?” You walked back into your room and got ready to go to lunch. You listened to Jean hurrying to take some pastries out of the oven.

Peter and Jean walked together both holding a side of the wicker basket together. They chatted about school and gossiped about the other children around their age. You and Eddie followed together farther back. You both strolled past the Trilliums, Violets, Bellwort, Virginia Bluebells, and Spring Beauty. Everything was so beautiful. All the spring flowers warmed each of their spirits. The birds chirped a happy chorus as the small family walked together to find a spot among the field of flowers to eat their picnic in company with the hopping crickets and whatever other critters wished to join in. Eddie let the back his hand brush yours his index finger curled with yours for only a moment before going back to the “proper” type of public interaction.

[life-of-tjackie]

15 Cheapest Cities In Europe To Visit

If you love sandy beaches, Fuerteventura's got 30 miles to discover, sunbathe and usually chill out on. But get into the water too, as together with swimming watersports are big here - mainly as a result of it’s a bit breezy. Which additionally turns out to be useful for climbing and biking round the island - it’s an UNESCO designated Biosphere so you actually want to go to the mountains and (dormant) volcanoes.

Stroll by way of Gamla Stan, visit City Hall (the place the Nobel Peace Prize is awarded every year), and take a day cruise via the archipelago. Explore three of Scandinavia’s great cities on this Europe itinerary. Disaster leveled "the Paris of the West" a century in the past — and its aftermath echoes through the city today.

How to Make an Itinerary for Every Trip You Take

Dine on connoisseur cuisine, drink fine wines, relax on the seaside, and get a taste of the great life. This is an effective way to spend 10 days in Europe. At the end of this article, we give ideas that can assist you choose one of the best Europe itinerary on your touring style and the season that you simply plan to visit Europe. Despite that includes “liquor drips” with free tequila right in your hotel room, Hotel Riu Palace Mexico isn’t a spot for spring breakers.

If you’re feeling nervous, don’t fear — that’s completely regular. You’re about to embark on a tremendous adventure — and that’s a huge change.

Most folks want several days in a spot where they couldn’t see a museum or take a tour even if they needed to. A cease within the mountains or on an island, in a pleasant rural city, or on the home of a relative is an effective way to revitalize your vacationer spirit. If you’re passionate about Renaissance art, Florence is a must. England’s Cotswolds beckon to those that fantasize about thatched cottages, time-passed villages, and sheep lazing on green hillsides. For World War II buffs, there’s no more stirring expertise than a go to to Normandy.

What are the cheapest all inclusive vacations?

The late fall and winter months—from mid/late October through mid/late March—are often the cheapest time to fly to Europe (though fares can spike in December). It's often cheaper to fly to Europe mid-week, on Tuesdays and Wednesdays, in particular.

Passport pictures will price you about an extra $10, or you can print your own for free at ePassportPhoto. Europe has an insane quantity of good beer and wine — so you must pattern all you can.

This is considered one of our favorite 10 day trips of all time. The landscapes, the lovable fishing villages, the epic climbing trails…you're in for a treat. This is one of our hottest itineraries and a wonderful approach to spend 10 days in Europe. A street journey on the Ring Road is considered one of Iceland’s greatest experiences.

In-Depth Breakdown Of Estimating Your Travel Costs

While you get nearer to your objective, make sure that you keep feeding your need to travel. Travel planning could be exhausting and overwhelming — particularly should you don’t have help out of your friends and family. It can often get discouraging and really feel out of reach at times. Traveling solo will provide you with the freedom to go anyplace you need. However, it means you must do all the planning yourself — which may appear daunting if you’re new to journey planning.

To be sincere, outside of the capital, there are quite a couple of of the most affordable cities in Europe which might be based mostly within the Czech Republic. Just ensure to do your homework and visit extra regional cities. Airfare, in fact, is dependent upon your origin, vacation spot, and season of travel.

Europe has an insane amount of excellent beer and wine — so you should sample all you can.

Many of the motels on the island had to fully renovate to cope with vital damage.

Of course, there will be further costs like transportation to and from the airport.

What are you able to anticipate from the luxurious all-inclusive right now? Two out of doors swimming swimming pools — one that just about extends the length of the property — and a two-story spa with a free-to-use hydrotherapy circuit. The fabulous all-inclusive package deal covers prime-shelf liquor, lobster, 12 bars, and 10 gourmand eating places serving every little thing from Mexican to French fare.

Gather Inspiration The next thing you’ll need to do is gather inspiration. This means creating a collection of on-line sources you discovered useful or adding the ideas directly into your Bullet Journal (similar to writing out recipes). Use the ability of the web to search for recipes, get together ornament concepts, and even ideas for fun headers and doodles to embellish your Bullet Journal somewhat for the holidays. Adding these further details would possibly help add a contact of fun to the in any other case annoying thing that is planning for the vacations. A traveller’s delight – this metropolis is probably the preferred metropolis to go to in Poland and comes up trumps everytime you search for cities to visit in Poland.

I and my youngsters usually are not a lot, nevertheless, we do some amount of hiking in native national parks through the warm seasons. I suppose Switzerland with Paris and Italy sounds fantastic. If you live within the Philippines, seeing the snow will probably be a pleasant deal with. 🙂 If you want to go to these three locations, I suggest spending 3 days in Paris, three to 4 days (or extra) within the Bernese Oberland/Lucerne space of Switzerland, and 7 days (or more) in Italy.

We do have a guide to finding low cost flights to Europethat will help you get the best deal attainable. Most folks choose to convey a backpack to Europe. We’ve compiled an inventory of our favorite journey backpacksand created a information on how to choose the proper backpack. If you’re on a price range, ask your friends if they have an old backpack or consider buying used.

It lays out every bit of data you may need in your trip so that you're never left looking around looking for an address or a cellphone number. This means you possibly can spend extra time exploring or enjoyable and fewer time attempting to prepare yourself. Do your analysis about destination prices based mostly on your style of traveling. This is going that will help you decide your daily bills and come up with a day by day price range for your trip.

Once you cross the Atlantic, you'll be able to e-book flights from the U. on discount airlines like EasyJet and Ryanair to hop from metropolis to metropolis or buy a Eurail move, a ticket that lets you journey by prepare throughout 33 nations in Europe. Families are reuniting or touring together for the holidays. so –, and you may count on to pay a premium for flights.

It mechanically gathers your journey reservations from Gmail (no forwarding or manual entry required) and organizes them into individual trips, proper right down to day by day plans. at a tap of a button, Google is all too eager to make some recommendations primarily based on what’s close by, with choices to filter in accordance with your interests and available time. For the more business orientated consumer, offline maps can be found by way of the app’s premium service, as well as a sophisticated journey planner.

Or maybe you can get a seven-day cruise for 70% off, a package deal deal to Hawaii for the price of your flight to Paris, or 50% off sailing journeys around Greece. Traveling with somebody means you have someone to help plan the journey with you. It will make researching your itinerary sooner and you’ll have somebody to spend time with on the highway.

But since we’re finances travelers, I’m going to stay with the cheaper choices. Most frugal-minded, hostel-hopping backpackers spend round $70-$105/day in Western Europe and $40-$eighty/day in Eastern Europe.

Breaking vacation preparations down into small steps makes it simpler to celebrate without last-minute stress. Linking every week's area focus with corresponding holiday prep chores--such as inventorying vacation table linens throughout Bed and Bath week--helps hold the plan targeted and sensible. Written by organizing author, Cynthia Ewer, the HHP is a week-by-week roadmap to clean and organize the whole home by December, while making ready for the vacation season in good time. Beginning on Labor Day weekend, the HHP takes you area-by-space through the home, the place you will reduce the clutter, clean and manage with weekly assignments designed to be do-in a position, not overwhelming.

[tipsycad147]

Collecting out-of-print Tarot decks

by Michelle Gruben

Every Tarot collector wants that one deck. The 1980s deck that you first learned to read with (and haven’t seen since). The indie Kickstarter deck you should have bought when you had the chance. The deck that everyone raves about that’s long overdue for a reprint.

As a lifelong collector (and occasional dealer) of Tarot, I know the agony of searching for those elusive decks. I’ve written this guide to help you round up the stragglers on your list. With a little sleuthing, patience, and (moderately) deep pockets, anyone can build the Tarot collection of their dreams. This article is geared toward those who buy Tarot decks for reading and study, rather than purely for collectible value. But if you happen to make money buying and selling Tarot, more power to you!

First, it’s helpful to understand why Tarot decks go out of print in the first place. Every time a Tarot deck is created, the publisher—whether it’s the artist or a publishing company—has to make a very risky bet. They have to settle on an initial print run, or the number of copies that will be produced. The publisher uses a current budget and past sales figures to arrive at this number, but it’s not an exact science.

If the number is too low, the deck will sell out quickly, disappointing customers. If the number is too high, the publisher could be stuck with unsold copies of the deck for years, tying up cash that could have gone to other projects. Print runs vary from 500 or fewer copies from indie artists, up to tens of thousands of copies from major publishers.

Most Tarot decks never see a second print run after the initial printing sells out. However, if the deck becomes extremely popular, the publisher may opt to put a new edition. Some titles are translated into other languages, and appear in multiple sizes and formats. A classic deck may even get an anniversary edition to mark a major milestone. Not all reprints are created equal, though. Sometimes, the print quality improves and errors are corrected in the new edition. Other times, the deck suffers from flimsy paper stock, “off” colors, and skimpy packaging.

Intellectual property issues can delay or block a re-issue. The Thoth Tarot by Aleister Crowley went missing for several years. The hiatus was due to a legal dispute between the Ordo Templi Orientis, which claims the rights to the artwork, and U.S. Games Systems, Inc., which has a contract to publish the deck. Eventually, a new edition made it to the market—but not before dealers went crazy hawking the out-of-print decks on eBay.

I’ll be the first to admit it: Finding rare and out-of-print decks isn’t easy. There are thousands of different Tarot decks, most from small print runs, and no centralized resources for collectors. In addition, serious Tarot fans tend to hold on to their decks for a long time—like, until death.

Your Tarot wish list

If you’re serious about filling out a Tarot collection, the first step is to make a wish list. Patience is a virtue when hunting for Tarot, so the list will help you focused during those long stretches of no luck. Write down the name, publisher, and any other particulars—like edition or language—for your desired decks. You can also arrange the wish list by priority (“Decks I Would Sell My Firstborn For” down to “Decks I Might Buy If the Price Is Right”).

Once your collection reaches a certain size, you’ll also want to keep an inventory of decks you already own. I don’t wish for anyone to be hovering around a stinky flea market trying to remember if they already have Motherpeace.

Ready to start chipping away at that wish list? Here's four places to look for rare Tarot and oracle decks:

1. Check online marketplaces.

eBay, Amazon, and AbeBooks are the most popular venues for used Tarot decks. Searching online listings is the fastest—but probably also the most expensive—way to get your hands on a long-lost deck. The three sites listed above have the largest selection of vintage Tarot. Generally speaking, used book lots and estate sales put Tarot decks in the hands of dealers, who pass them on to collectors. Search terms like “vintage,” “original” or “OOP” will show you the current haul of collectible decks.

Browsing these three sites is a good way to find out what a particular deck is worth—or at least, what dealers want it to be worth. I’ve seen mass-market decks that originally retailed for about $20 offered for $300 or more. And that’s without the deck being particularly rare or sought-after. Some dealers buy up all the current Tarot titles they can, just hoping that the publisher will sell out and the value of the deck will shoot up.

Don’t be discouraged if you find your coveted deck listed at an insane price. Remember, the value of something is only what someone else will pay. It’s often the case that the seller has no idea what the item is worth. They do know they have only one available, and they’re simply trying to get the best price from some eager collector. The seller may come down if no one bites, or if similar listings pop up. They will certainly come down if the deck is reprinted. If you’re willing to wait, it’s entirely possible that you might find the same title somewhere else for much less.

Try setting up alerts so you can be notified when your wish list items show up in listings. Large marketplace like eBay and Amazon usually support this function. Of course, if the deck you want is truly rare and at the top of your list, you may wish to snap it up as soon as you get a chance.

Online Tarot collecting is not without its risks. Read the listing carefully, and be sure to ask any questions before checkout. Because Amazon requires an ISBN number for listings (but doesn’t keep a complete catalog of ISBNs for out-of-print titles), sellers sometimes list old Tarot items under the wrong ISBN. It’s very disappointing to get the wrong edition (or worse, a book when you were expecting a deck.)

Also, don’t assume that people selling used Tarot decks on major sites know anything about Tarot. Some may be specialists, but some are liquidators who deal in all types of books and other items. Right now on eBay, there are decks with missing cards, decks described incorrectly, and newer editions passed off as vintage. Beware of “as is” listings and sellers who don’t describe the item thoroughly with words and photos. A reputable seller should at least be able to verify that all the cards are there and provide you with the publishing info from the box or booklet.

2. Scrounge around (in person).

Your second option is poking around in cluttered rooms that smell like books. (Poor you!)

Not a lot of metaphysical shops carry used Tarot decks. Part of the reason may be superstition, or clients' worry about the energy of previous owners clinging to the deck. But the bigger reason is probably the hassle. Every used deck has to be checked for condition and completeness. Most of the decks published in the 1980s and beyond just don’t have that much value, other than sentiment. As a shop owner, I can attest that the profit margin on new decks is small enough, and the margin on run-of-the-mill used decks is miserable. But it’s worth checking if your local occult store sells or trades vintage decks.

The next stop for scrounging will be the used book stores in your area. Because of pilferage, decks are usually kept behind glass or the front counter, so you may have to ask for them. Tarot can also show up at such unlikely places as estate sales, rummage sales, auctions, and library sales. Workers at these things don’t always know where to place the decks, so I check the New Age section, the games section, and the rare book shelf. (Unfortunately, the general public seems to think Tarot decks are worth a lot more than they are. Don’t be shy about setting them straight with a cash offer.)

When you run across vintage Tarot decks at a reasonable price, buy them all! Honestly, do it. Whether the decks are on your list or not, they’re really neat to rifle through and they don’t take up much room. They could be a useful bargaining chip when you meet with other collectors. (See #4, below.)

Magickal folks, you can use visualization and intuition to make a hard-to-find Tarot deck come to you. Put your intention out there, then go where your hunches and whims lead you. If you have access to a favorite image from the deck, print it out and put it with your collection. Or you can simply visualize yourself reading the deck or holding it in your hands. Then follow your nose and keep your eyes peeled for your new deck.

3. Contact the artist or publisher.

Through the wonders of the information age, it’s now possible to get in touch with nearly any (living) artist or author. It’s a long shot, but it just might yield up a Tarot deck or at least a hot tip.

Try sending a message to the deck creator through their website or Facebook page. Tell ‘em how much you love the deck, and how disappointed you are that you missed the limited edition, or gave away your personal copy, or lost it after revel fire that one night, or whatever. Then ask them if they know any way that the deck can be obtained.

Sometimes, artists will have a limited number of copies that they keep for family and friends. They may be willing to sell you one. Perhaps there’s been a second printing that you didn’t know about. Could be a bookstore in Winnipeg has some old stock. Maybe they’ll tell you about a new deck they’re working on that’s so awesome, you’ll cross the old one off your list.

Reaching out to artists that inspire you is usually very gratifying, even if it doesn’t land you a deck. Artists need love! For out-of-print titles stuck in purgatory, your message will at least demonstrate some interest, and possibly nudge them toward another print run.

I’m shy, so I’ll admit that this is not my favorite strategy of the bunch. Several years ago, I was desperate to get my hands on the rare-ish Alchemical Tarot by Robert Place. I got a large tattoo from the deck on my leg, and the plan was to send him a pic and ask if he had a deck to sell me. But I chickened out! I (Fortunately, it was later reprinted.)

Nowadays, I chat with lots of deck creators, and I’ve found them to be a great resource for finding those rare decks and special extras. Many creators are collectors, also. They’re often the first to know when a re-issue or new release is forthcoming. Re-issues always drive down the price of out-of-print decks, so this is useful intel whether you buy or sell Tarot.

4. Connect with other collectors.

Other Tarot collectors make wonderful fishing buddies. Whether you meet them online or in person, connecting with Tarot community will yield a wealth of information. They can help you set up trades, find new leads, evaluate purchases, and identify your decks. The only danger here is that your wish list will grow and grow!

If you have decks in your collection that you no longer want, other collectors will be happy to take them off your hands. Bring a handful of old decks to Tarot classes and spiritual book swaps, and they may find a happy new home. A Tarot meetup I used to attend had a monthly “Show and Tell” that very often turned into “Show and Sell.”

For many years, the leading online Tarot swap community has been on the Aecletic Tarot forums (registration required for most features). They are generally fair and knowledgeable folks. You can post buy/sell requests or show off your collection! Remember, the only thing better than finding a much-longed-for deck is helping someone else to do the same.

Happy collecting!

https://www.groveandgrotto.com/blogs/articles/collecting-out-of-print-tarot-decks

[the-nerd-book-reader]

Read Me - Drarry Bookstore AU

Hi there! Just another one-shot that no one asked for but I still felt like writing because, once again, @theperksofbeingatotalnerd hit a soft spot with her prompt.

Harry had always loved books.  Not like his friend Hermione, whose love for books seemed to rely in a bigger love for knowledge. No, books didn’t call for Harry for the same reason. His love for books relied in the comfort. How a rainy afternoon seemed so much cosier when spent with a soft blanket and a book on his lap, maybe a mug filled with tea to warm the cold fingers that turned every page. He revelled on the stories that made the rest of the world non-existent, stories that allowed him to escape reality once in awhile. Eventually, he came to love the smell of books as well, old or new, as it always reminded him of the many worlds he had lived in and adventures he had in his own couch. Even the feel of a hardcover in his hand and wrinkled pages between his fingers were enough to soothe him.

It was only natural he would end up working in a bookshop. And, for all his friends exasperation, he liked his job. He wouldn’t change it for anything. Even if it meant he passed his days placing books in the right places, after the customers left them all around, or trying to find a book someone didn’t know how to describe and dealing with nasty customers who demanded a discount or cursed him for not having the book they wanted. You would think that Harry James Potter, who always had good grades and finished college filled with other’s expectations, would have wanted more in his life than just spending his days in a bookshop, surrounded by dust and black ink on white paper. But how could he? Everyday he got up, knowing the only thing waiting for him at work was that feeling of comfort, that feeling that he could belong anywhere if he wanted to and maybe help others feel the same.

That’s why, in the day it happened, the dark-haired boy wasn’t expecting anything to be less different than the rest of the year.

He woke up, drove to work and started organizing books as soon as he arrived. It was past lunch time when he heard another customer entering the store, the sound automatically ignored by his brain after so many people coming in and out everyday. He simply continued checking the inventory on the computer, writing down anything that seemed unusual in the little notebook by his side. At this time of the day there were barely any customers, since it was still work hours and the other people had to gain their money somehow. Normally, people who visited the shop were in their break so they didn’t spend much time there, only wandering quickly, eyes barely scanning the shelves. So, it was with a little surprise that Harry raised his eyes from the computer screen when someone cleared his throat in front of him, calling his attention. Surprise, however, would be scarce to describe what he felt at the sight that expected him once he turned to help the person.

Grey eyes met his, making his breath halt imperceptibly and Harry found himself unable to stop his eyes from scanning the face that held such an intense mercury gaze. He wasn’t disappointed. The man was gorgeous. Completely out of a novel, if not better. Blonde, almost platinum, locks framed high cheek bones. A faint pink painted soft looking lips and the jaw reminded him of a book page. Only sharp enough to cut. Harry didn’t dare to spend much more time assessing the man, but from what he saw with a quick glance at the rest of him, the man was slightly taller than him, thin body with a fitness highlighted by the black suit he was wearing, probably Giorgio Armani if the way he held his head high was anything to go by. It was quite rare to see someone so high-end on the shop.

Finally shaking himself out of his reverie, he looked at the man’s eyes again, which held a puzzled look.

“Hi.” Harry said, like he hadn’t been enjoying the view just a few seconds ago “Can I help you?”

The former look was replaced by a business one and the man spoke:

“I’m looking for a book.”

“Well, funnily enough, I gathered as much since you’re in a book shop.” Harry joked before he could stop himself. It didn’t always end up well when he said something before thinking about it.

Oddly, his customer only raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow, a judging expression if it wasn’t for the amusement that quickly sparked in his eyes.

“Do they pay you to try to be funny as well? Or was that just a poorly executed attempt?”

Harry blinked rapidly, taken aback by the snarky response. He really ought to keep his mouth shut sometimes. It was his time to clear his throat.

“Hm, no, sorry. What book are you looking for?” He asked, eyes cast down and a light blush staining his cheeks.

He could hear the smirk shaping the blonde man’s lips when he answered.

“Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë.”

Harry’s head snapped up, once again staring at the man in disbelief. He definitely wasn’t expecting that. With all his fancy looks, Harry would have said his customer was looking for some book filled with boring economics and tedious statistics.

“I believe we still have a copy. If you’d follow me, please.” He said, cursing himself for the babbling and staring. He forced himself to relax and started to make his way around the counter to the back of the store.

“Of course.” Came the reply behind him. Somehow, his voice seemed huskier. Harry chose to ignore it.

Once they arrived at the shelf Harry knew the book was in, he immediately started to run his index fingers through the dozens of covers and titles there, almost caressing them. It was his favorite part of the shop after all. He could feel a pair of grey eyes fixed on him and struggled to say something, anything to diminish the tension between them and the nervousness creeping up on him.

“So, you like english novels?”

“I read them from time to time, among other things. Unfortunately, my last copy was too old and I guessed it was time to get a new one.”

“I never throw away my old books. I can’t.” Harry mused absently, still scanning the shelf. “It makes me feel like-”

“Like you’re throwing away the memory of the first time you read it?” The blonde interrupted.

Harry stopped what he was doing to look at the man, who was now standing beside him, with a slight shocked expression. His mouth opened and closed a few times, not sure what he was supposed to answer. Figuring he probably looked like a fish, he turned back to the job in hand and settled with “Yeah. Exactly. Every book marks me in some way so… I don’t know. It just seems wrong.”

The man made a noncommittal sound, but even if he was going to say something, Harry didn’t give him the chance to. The shorter man turned once again, now holding a book in his hands. He stopped dead in his track, however, surprised by the close proximity of the other. The smell of the spicy cologne started to fog his brain, killing any chance of an eloquent speech.

Long fingers wrapped around the book still held by his stilled one’s, and Harry finally stepped out of the stupor, taking a step back and releasing the book. Somehow, he found his ability to talk.

“Is- Is there anything more that you need?” He stammered, straightening his glasses absently.

The man seemed to consider him for a moment before holding the book under his arm and talk again.

“I don’t suppose you have Alice in the Wonderland?”

“Hmm… I think we do, yes.” Harry beckoned, while wondering why someone reading Emily Brontë would be looking for a children’s book.

They went around the store, reaching the children’s area quickly and Harry grabbed the book, immediately passing it to the man behind him.

“Thank you”

“Anything more?” Harry asked. He tried to ignore the voice inside him begging the blonde to stay a little longer. What the hell was going on with him today?

“No. I think that’s it.”

They walked in silence back to the counter where Harry, trying to disguise the sudden and completely unreasonable disappointment he felt, started to work mechanically and efficiently. After registering Alice in Wonderland he suddenly remembered:

“Is it a present? Do you want me to wrap it?”

“No, there’s no need.” The man said, waving a hand dismissively although never taking his eyes of Harry.

The green-eyed man, on the other hand, looked confused.

“Is there any problem?”

“No, no! I just…” He started before clamping his mouth shut.

“Yes?…” The other prodded, both eyebrows raised in an expectant look.

“I… I was just wondering why someone reading Emily Brontë would read Alice in Wonderland.” Harry explained, finally giving him his books in a bag.

The man tilted his head, a scowl shadowing his features while he accepted the bag.

“Not that is any of your concern, but it’s for my niece. She already knows I’m buying it so there’s really no point in wrapping it.”

Harry ducked his head, ashamed of how unprofessional he had been since the man had arrived. It wasn’t like him at all. He had always prided himself for being respectful and able to stop thoughts from influencing his actions. It seemed, however, that the handsome man in front of him could cloud his better judgement. It was unsettling. Books could be read and Harry would know what was going on. This blonde, on the other hand, was… unreadable. Surprisingly, it fascinated Harry.

“If that’s all?” He continued, a superior expression now painting his face and an indication of the intention to leave clear in his body language.

“Yes. Thank you for coming.” Harry said, no louder than a whisper and still not looking at him.

“My pleasure.” Was the response.

That night, cuddled by his favorite blanket, he found he couldn’t really concentrate in the book on his lap, instead replaying the afternoon’s events over and over again, alternating between cursing himself and remembering the man’s features. Not even the protagonist of the novel he was holding was as beautiful.

The next day, after a good night of sleep, Harry got back to normal. Pricing books, helping people and arranging the books was what he loved to do and the bliss that he felt when surrounded by pages filled with different stories was back. Until…

“What’s your name?”

Harry jumped at the proximity of the voice behind him, dropping the books he held in his arms. Reflexively, he crouched and started to collect the books back into his arms, only then realising… that voice… Someone crouched in front of him and started to help him. When he raised his head, Harry had his fears confirmed.

“Wha- What?” He babbled, yesterday’s lack of eloquence coming back full force.

“Your name. You never told me your name.” The grey-eyed man explained, staring at him expectantly and completely open, a contrast from the coldness of the day before.

“You… hm, you never asked?” It came out sort of a question, Harry still not sure what was happening. He accepted the books handed to him and swiftly got up, the other mirroring his movements.

“Well, I’m asking now.” He smiled, a little shy, but still allowing a brief flash of shining white teeth. Harry wondered how embarrassing would be if he passed out.

“I’m Harry. Harry Potter.” He eventually managed while placing the books safely in a shelf.

“I’m Draco. Draco Malfoy.” The man said and extended his hand.

It only took Harry a second before he clasped their hands together in a light handshake. He wasn’t nearly prepared for the feeling of it. Long fingers wrapped around his hand, cold but somehow warming him inside. The hand fitted his perfectly, and Harry almost mourned for not believing in destiny. He had no idea how long they stayed like that, holding each other’s hands and looking at the other. Harry didn’t know who pulled back first, but all too soon they were stepping back. Letting go of Harry’s hand, thin fingers slid through his palm, a light caress that sent shivers down his spine.

The black-haired man spoke the first thing that came into his mind. Again. He never learnt from his mistakes.

“I’m sorry, but what are you doing here?”

Draco smirked. “Well, I thought you figured that out yesterday. I came to buy a book, of course.” Then, the smirk morphed into a small sheepish smile, eyes cast down. “And maybe I was a little bit of a jerk yesterday, before I left.” He finished.

To say Harry was surprised would be an euphemism.

“You were a bit but I deserved it. I wasn’t being professional.” He rushed to explain, a blush creeping to his cheeks.

“No, it was fine. I’m just not used to talk about myself. I feel like I’m an open book in those moments.”

“You don’t like people to read you, then.”

“I wouldn’t mind if you read me.”

From that day on, Draco would go to the bookshop everyday, at the same hour as the first one. He would always spend minutes and minutes talking to Harry about everything and nothing at all while the black-haired man stayed behind the counter, listening to everything intently. He talked about his work, his niece, favorite films and foods. He let Harry read him. At first, Harry was still taken aback, afraid to say the wrong things as he had the first time they talked. But eventually Draco broke through all his defences, question after question, smile after smile and touch after touch. Harry knew it was nothing special, only a brush of fingers when handing him the new purchased book or how their shoulders would touch sometimes while he searched through the shelves. He still fell for Draco. Hard. He was funny, a bit (ok, maybe a lot) sarcastic, intelligent and caring. He always had a comeback at the tip of his tongue, but so did Harry and they would spend entire conversations teasing the other while still getting to know each other. Draco only won their contests when he would suddenly say something that was really close to flirting. Or maybe Harry just wanted to believe it was although he never let himself to. He would sputter and change topic or admit defeat. He needed to keep reminding himself that the blonde was only there to buy books and decided, in the meantime, to be nice to him.

It was thursday when it happened. Harry had been up until 3am reading, each chapter pulling him more into the story than the other. He knew he should be sleeping but he didn’t seem to find the strength to care. Then, his favorite character died. Which meant he continued to read and read, determined to finish the book that same night. In the end, it was 5am when he finally closed the book and his eyes.

Harry was now regretting his decision, the three hours of sleep he got not nearly enough to get him through the day without a several headache and stinging eyes. He was practically oozing off when Draco arrived.

“Hi there!” Came the loud greeting, making Harry’s head explode in a new wave of pain.

He blinked slowly, his energy not even enough for him to stand up from the bench. He really should have known better. He always needed to sleep more than six hours a day, and even then he took at least a cup of coffee in the morning. He hadn’t have the time today.

Draco must have noticed the bags under his eyes or his lack of energy, because before Harry could say anything, he was already holding his face with a hand, a concerned look in his eyes.

“You look like shit, Harry! Are you ok? Did something happen?” He asked in a rush.

Somehow, the shorter man found the energy to chuckle lightly, shaking his head while rubbing his eyes. Draco’s presence was enough to lighten his day.

“No. Everything’s fine. I’m just a really stupid person.” He assured, still amused.

The blonde didn’t seem convinced at all, scowling at him, an expression Harry had grown used to by now.

“Why does it seem like you haven’t slept then?” He pressured, both hands now in the counter as he leaned to him.

“Because I haven’t. I was reading until late.” He didn’t know why he was telling Draco, but it felt right. “Normally, it wouldn’t be this bad, but I didn’t get the chance to drink my coffee in the morning and my shift only ends at 4pm.”

He considered him for a moment, as if trying to find if it was a lie or if he was telling the truth. He settled on truth.

“How can someone be that stupid?” Draco scolded.

“My favorite character died, ok? Please, have some respect.” Harry said, a smile still playing on his lips.

“So, because your favorite character died you try to kill yourself from tiredness? Can you imagine the alarming mortality rate if everyone was as idiot as you?”

Harry laughed, knowing Draco was right.

“That’s it.” He said abruptly “I’m picking you up at four and taking you out for coffee.”

Without another word, he turned and padded out of the shop leaving behind a dumbfounded but smiling Harry. It took him almost an hour to realise Draco hadn’t bought any book.

When his shift ended almost every fatigue was gone, replaced by nervousness. He was waiting for Draco outside, jacket folded in his arm and bag on his shoulder, balancing softly has Harry shifted his weight from leg to leg. He felt him more than saw him, immediately snapping his head to see the gorgeous man approaching him.

“Ready?” He asked once he neared him, taking the bag from Harry’s shoulder and placing it in his.

“Hey! I can take that!”

Draco dodge the hand that tried to grab the bag and started to walk in front of him. “After your coffee, yes, you can”. He said over his shoulder, not even glancing back.

“You know, it really doesn’t match your suit.” Harry tried once he was able to fall in step with him.

Draco faltered a step and Harry smirked to himself. Straightening up, the blonde continued as if nothing had happened. “It’s a blow in my style that I’m willing to take.” He assured nonchalantly. Harry figured there was nothing he could say that would convince Draco then.

The nearest Starbucks was only a few minutes away and they spent them mostly in silence. When they arrived they found a table and Draco instructed him to sit before asking what he was having. Harry tried to insist he could pay but Draco was having none of it. They both settled by strong cappuccinos. Once Draco was back with the drinks they talked as if they were in the bookshop like a normal day and mercifully, the man didn’t mention Harry’s stupidity again. They somehow started talking about Harry’s university and, later, his choice of work.  

“And how did a man like you, intelligent and full of life, ended up working in that shop?” Draco asked, chin resting in his hand and real curiosity lighting his eyes.

Harry played a little with the spoon inside his half-finished cappuccino, thinking how he could explain something not even his closest friends ever understood. He sighed, not meeting the grey eyes that studied him.

“I love books for as long as I can remember. They always had an important role in my life and shaping me. Sometimes they seemed to be the only thing that could help me get through hard times. It only made sense that I would spend my days working in a place filled with something that brings me so much comfort and happiness.”

Draco was quiet for a few moments, assessing him or his answer. Harry wasn’t sure. Eventually, he spoke again.

“But why do you love books so much? You talk about them and touch them with such reverence.”

Stunned by how much he had let on during the last few days, it took him some seconds before he raised his green eyes from the table and smiled easily at the man in front of him.

“I can live in any world when I read. I guess that might be the biggest reason.”

“And what’s your favorite world so far?”

“The one where an handsome man with grey eyes and blonde hair takes me out for coffee.”

If it wasn’t for the soft gasp that followed his words, Harry wouldn’t have even realised that he spoke them. They were supposed to be kept in the solitude of his mind. But they didn’t. And now Draco knew. He didn’t wait to see his reaction. He didn’t wait for the answer. Eyes wide and mouth clamped shut, he gathered his belongings as fast as he could, blurting out an “I’m so sorry” before fleeing.

Next day, Harry was doing everything in his power to not think how he managed to screw things up so much. His struggles were revealing themselves to be useless, as he already missed Draco and it wasn’t even lunch time. There was no point anyway. He would never show up.

That’s why, a few minutes past midday, Harry didn’t hear the door open or the steps approaching him. He only noticed it when it was too late to hide, which meant he now had a sympathetic smiling Draco looking down at him.

“Oh, no.” He groaned to himself, hiding his face in his hands. “Please be a dream. My mortification was enough yesterday”

“Sorry, not a dream, Harry.” He says, chuckling almost soundlessly.

The black-haired man, with no other option but resigning to another moment of embarrassment, sighs heavily before looking up and asking:

“What are you looking for?”

Harry was about to get up, ready to fetch whatever book the blonde wanted and be done with it, when the response came.

“I think that I found what I was looking for a few days ago, as soon as I entered here.”

“But… you only got Wuthering Heights after you talked to…” His eyes widened, realisation coming into him.

Draco looked at him sheepishly through his eyelashes, not quite being able to meet his green eyes, fingers playing nervously with the hem of his shirt. “Is there anyway I could try and make your new favorite world be one where a really nervous man with grey eyes and blonde hair takes you out for lunch?”.

Harry found, as the next days came, that his new favorite world was any where Draco was next to him. And, he might not be able to read so many books with his time occupied by a certain no-longer-nervous man, but it was ok. Because suddenly, books weren’t the thing that gave him the most comfort. Draco was.