#sorry about lighting I’m back in town and it’s equally bad. also I drew this on a sticky note so.

[psychicthepsychic-daily]

therapist!psychic. a concept from the very first days of brainrot <3

[ka-za-ri]

34 and 11 please with Lucifer and Simeon.

So, I couldn’t tell if you meant Lucifer/Simeon as a pair or Lucifer and Simeon with the reader... sooo I just went with it. Took me a while to figure out how to write this with a good dynamic. A little bit of fluff, a little bit of angst, a lot of romance... I hope you like it! (unedited bc we die like heroes here) Gender Neutral Reader

_(:3 」∠)_

Part of the Two-Part Drabble Game Requests

Setting: Date gone wrong Quote: “Your hand is in my personal space. Not that I mind. Character: Lucifer and Simeon

It was supposed to be a cute little outing downtown with Simeon. It was supposed to be a well deserved break from your hectic life to unwind and spend some time with the guy you liked. It was supposed to be the perfect day out. Some lunch, some window shopping, maybe a stroll in the park and then watching the sunset together.

Supposed to be.

However, neither of you had been made aware of the festival being held in town that day. Instead of the usual bustle of a reasonably busy weekend, the streets were packed with crowds. Your senses were assaulted by all the sounds, smells and sensations that came with a festival. 

At first, you wanted to ride it out, pretend it wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be. However, Simeon could sense your discomfort with having to deal with so many people in one place at one time. “Let’s go somewhere else.” he suggested when he noticed the way you flinched at any remotely loud, sudden sound. 

You were more than happy to get out of the thick of things and to somewhere quieter. Simeon seemed to know all of the good hole-in-the-wall cafes and brought you to one of his favorites. Immediately, the warm wood finishing and the quiet chatter put you in a much more agreeable state of mind.

Simeon led you to a quiet corner of the cafe once your orders had been retrieved and placed his hand on top of yours. “Sorry I didn’t plan this day better.” he apologized, rubbing soft circles on the back of your hand. “I know how you are with crowds and I didn’t think to look…”

You shrugged, taking a sip of your drink and letting the familiar flavors take the edge of your frazzled nerves more. “It’s okay.” You reassured him. Though the date hadn’t gone as planned, you still got to spend some quality time with him. “I don’t think either of us really looked up if there was going to be anything going on downtown today. It’s neither here nor there.” 

He smiled softly, adoring how you were still so determined to be out and about with him despite usually being an introvert. It was a rare opportunity for both of you to have time to do anything like this. Simeon didn’t have the right words to quite express just how happy he was to just have time with you. “Well, since we’re here, I think I remember there’s a pa--”

“Simeon?”

Simeon stopped mid sentence when he heard his name being called. He looked around to see who the owner of the voice was and as soon as he saw who it was, he broke out in a wide grin. “Lucy? Is that really you? I haven’t seen you in ages!”

Simeon scooted his seat over to allow Lucifer to join in. You stared, dumbfounded at the sudden intrusion, but didn’t question it. The way Simeon beamed and grinned when he saw this person was an expression you rarely saw. It was likely best to leave things for the time being.

“It has been a while, hasn’t it? And who might this be?” 

“My partner!” Simeon stated proudly before introducing you to him. 

“A pleasure to meet you. Lucifer.” The stranger greeted smoothly before pulling up a chair to join you at the table. “I hope I’m not intruding on your date together.”

“Oh, no not at all.” 

It would have been rude to interject and tell him that he was intruding. You had to keep Simeon’s smile in mind. It was an expression you rarely got to see. He was usually so cool and collected, seeing him so animated was a bit of treat for you. For his sake, you didn’t want to cause a scene. Your initial date plans had been foiled anyway, it wasn’t like your day could get any worse, right?

“Lucy and I go way back.” Simeon explained. “At least two decades.”

“I think it’s a little more than that.” Lucifer chimed in. “And can you not call me that in public?” 

“Okay fine Lucifer.” Simeon corrected himself. “What have you been up to these past few years? I feel like we lost all contact after you quit your last job.”

“Ah, well…” 

What they had was a bond that went beyond what you could ever hope to achieve. The way they interacted and reminisced about the times they had together pushed a thorn of envy into your heart. They had all the time in the world and you had only ever occupied a fraction of Simeon’s life. It didn’t feel right to cut into their conversation as they reminisce over the past and caught up.

They pulled you into a life with them that you could never experience. The drink in your hand grew tepid as the hours went by and they continued to chat. It was almost as if you weren’t there, as if you didn’t matter. Despite being surrounded by people, it felt oddly lonely to be at that table with them. They were in their own little world and you could only imagine what it would have been like if you were with them.

For a moment, you were pulled out of the romantic moment you were having with Simeon to see him in a way you were never permitted to. This stranger and his stories about his life drew out an energy and a life no one ever got to see. It was an odd magic Lucifer had and you were equal parts grateful and envious of it. 

There was something that drew even you in. Lucifer had a way with words that had you entranced and falling in love with the world he built. You could understand how Simeon seemed to be so smitten with reconnecting with him. The stories he shared were mundane yet somehow so colorful, you could imagine yourself right there with him. It put you in a comfortable lull and you didn’t mind being so quiet during the time the three of you shared.

“So what brought you out to this side of town anyway?” Lucifer asked, turning to you for a change and dragging you into the conversation. 

You snapped out of your daze and blinked. Surely he was asking Simeon and not you; however, when you looked up at your partner, you were surprised to see that he too was looking at you, waiting for an answer. “Ah, well…” You laughed nervously, fidgeting with the empty cup in your hands. “We were supposed to be on a date downtown…”

“So I was interrupting something.” 

“Well, no. I mean, it was too crowded downtown so we left early.” You shrugged, pretending it didn’t affect you as much as it did. Having a whole day of plans ruined more than once weighed heavily on your shoulders. But, moving the focus to yourself was selfish and rude. After all, Simeon hadn’t seen Lucifer in years, you weren’t about to break up a long awaited reunion. “It’s not a big deal. It’s probably better that we ended up here anyway.”

Lucifer hummed, tapping his finger on the table and assessing the energy between all parties at the table. “Well, I apologize nonetheless for interrupting and usurping your time. Allow me to make it up to you both.” 

You learned quickly that Lucifer moved the world at his own pace and all in his wake were helpless in objecting his whims. He led the two of you out of the quiet cafe and onto the streets washed with the warm oranges of a perfect sunset. One of his hands held onto Simeon while the other near dragged you along to follow his impossibly quick gait. 

He moved with a grace and a purpose you wouldn’t have expected for someone traveling so fast. You stumbled, half jogging to keep up with him. You didn’t know if you should be worried about where you were being taken. Simeon’s cheerful laugh as he was being towed behind Lucifer seemed to at least bode well.

While the scenery flashed by you and all you could do was focus on keeping up with Lucifer’s long strides and purposeful direction. You could only hope that he wasn’t about to lead you to your untimely demise. While frantically trying to match his pace, you realized that you couldn’t deny how easily this man had injected himself into your life. The way he asserted himself and dominated the pace of the day had you a little bit infatuated with him. His life beyond the little tidbits he shared at the coffee table had piqued your interest and left you yearning for more of his stories. The backdrop of Simeon’s gleeful laughing only added to his allure as it seemed like this man was the only person in the world who could pull such strong emotions out of your partner.

By the time he let the two of you stop and catch your breath, you were greeted with a grand view of the town below you. If you squinted, you could make out the rough outline of the downtown buildings where your day had begun. The sun had just sunk past the horizon and twilight washed across the city. Tiny twinkling lights from the windows illuminated the darkened residential areas, bringing the night sky to earth.

Further, the distinct whistle and pop of fireworks went off where the festival was being held. You made your way over the railing at the ledge you had arrived at and leaned against it to get the best view of the show. “Oh wow, I didn’t know this place existed.” You breathed, admiring the light show.

“Hopefully it makes up a little for the awful date this has been.” Simeon apologized softly, he reached for your hand and squeezed it softly. “It’s been a bit of a flop, huh?” 

You giggled, it was impossible to be mad at him when he was so cute. Oblivious as he might be, you could forgive him for one terrible date. “Well, really, you have to thank your friend for saving it.” 

Simeon tilted his head and looked at Lucifer who had joined you at the railing and mouthed a quick thanks in his direction. Lucifer only shrugged, waving it off as if he did things like this on a regular basis. 

While they had their little silent exchange, you let your emotions stew. You were being unreasonably selfish wanting to keep Simeon in your life while also getting to know Lucifer better. The two of them had a chemistry you couldn’t deny and if all things didn’t work out in the end, you reasoned it would only bring them together while you made a graceless exit out of their lives. Perhaps it was the overall romantic ambience that emboldened you to go for it.

You tried to be subtle, but you were sure Lucifer was the kind of person who took note of everything that happened around him. Before you could reach out for him, you felt his fingers pull your hand closer to his, lacing themselves in between his own and securing your palm against his. 

“Uhm… Excuse me, your hand is in my personal space….” You paused, averting your gaze and trying not to be too flustered about it. “Not that I mind…” You mumbled the last part as the boom and crackle of the fireworks drowned out your words. 

One hand held the love of your life, the other held the hand of an alluring stranger who had an impossibly strong pull. Between them, you were torn and impossibly selfish, wishing you could have both in your lives. The show was dying down and before it ended, you knew you had to make a choice. 

“So, Lucifer.” You started, finally gathering up enough courage to look him in the eye. “How about you come over for dinner sometime?” 

“That sounds lovely, I would be honored to join you.”

Behind you, Simeon leaned to the side, catching his old friend’s eyes. He grinned from ear to ear, winking knowingly and squeezed your hand in reassurance.

Perhaps the date wasn’t a total flop after all.

[misterewrites]

Unlikely Allies (Welcome to the Underground

Hey everyone! E here hoping you are all safe and sound. Sorry for the delay. The original plan was for me to update every two week because of my various responsibilities but a lot of things ended up happening so I had to delay this chapter a bit. Also there has been a shift in my job that might affect the release date of this chapters as well so hopefully I can keep up the whole two week deadline but as a word of warning delays might happen.

Thank you for reading this project of mine. I really appreciate it and I am so glad it's doing so well. Feel free to Reblog, share, comment all that jazz I love reading them and remember this story is also on Ao3. Stay safe, wear your mask, wash your hands and take care of yourself and your love ones! Have a great week! E is out!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27814297/chapters/71425041

Story so far: One day into the Underground proper and Abigail has already been chased by strange creatures into an unexplored tunnel and a creepy house that screams trouble. Trapped within, the group runs into a paladin wandering the darken halls. Despite the stranger's calm demeaner, Oliver claims he's nothing but trouble and little does the group know how correct he is. 

_____

“No by the way” Oliver narrowed his eyes at the man before the trio.

The stranger tilted his head quizzically “No?”

“No” Oliver repeated firmly “We’re not interested in your righteous cause or your god.

The stranger chuckled darkly “What righteous cause?”

“You’re a paladin in an evil creepy house in an unexplored tunnel off the beaten path.” Oliver explained “That only means one thing: Trouble. Solius I take with the whole…”

He gestured to the faded sun symbol splashed across the dented armor.

“Aye” The paladin answered with a nod “I am Fen, judgment of the sun god Solius on this mortal plane.”

Oliver raised an eyebrow sarcastically “Solius is the god of sunshine, rainbows and redemption. I wasn’t aware of he added judgment to his resume.”

“He hasn’t” Abigail mumbled.

Neither Oliver or Fen paid her any attention.

“Your mocking is common among the faithless” Fen growled softly.

Oliver gave a noncommittal shrug “If you want to believe in a higher being in exchange for some magical whatevers, that’s a you problem. I’m good with my music.”

“Bards” Fen spat out distastefully.

“Paladorks.” Oliver replied with false civility.

Abigail and Archibald watched the barbed exchange carefully, unsure what exactly was going on.

Abigail’s knowledge of paladins was sketchy at best: Like clerics, she knew their drew their magic from the deity they have chosen to follow. Good and bad gods existed in equal measure in this world and each ruling a domain such as light, dark, night, murder, redemption. Unlike the clerics, who often were healers or at the very least practitioners of powerful magics, paladins were their god’s warrior on the mortal plane, protecting their flock or routing out their enemies with religious fervor and steel.

Abigail was only familiar with Solius due to her family’s livelihood. While not particularly devoted to the sun god, her parents often left offerings in his church in the town to help ensure a good harvest for the year.

Speaking honestly, Abigail was never sure how exactly clerics and paladins drew their magic from a god or how exactly gods worked. She had heard the elders endlessly argue whether the gods were divine or simply higher beings who were beyond the comprehension of mortal beings. It was frankly above her thought process and she rather focus on questions she could answer such as what she was going to eat that day and if the bloodblooms needed more or less water.

“So.” Oliver began tiredly “How much danger are we in?”

Abigail and Archibald shared a concern glance

“I’m sorry, did you just say we’re in danger?”

“Yes” Fen answered bluntly “Much danger.”

“Much danger?” Abigail couldn’t keep stop her pitch from rising “Danger!?”

Oliver gestured to Fen “Of course we’re in danger. A paladin’s here. An experienced

paladin.”

“How do you know he’s…?”

The question died in her throat as she got a good look at Fen: A longsword hung sheathed at his side, his armor worn and nicked dozens of scratches and dents across the faded symbol of a sunburst. At first she thought his left arm was draped in his riding cloak, hidden out of sight but as he pushed the hood from his head and adjusted the cloak with his right hand, she realized with an icy chill that he had no left arm.

Archibald shifted uncomfortably beside her.

“I lost it in a mighty battle.” Fen answered the group’s unasked question “I had it removed when a cursed creature bit my arm.”

“Cursed creature?” Abigail thought for a moment “Like a werewolf? Wait, there’s werewolves down here? How would that even work?”

“Mystic moon energy. Let’s move along.” Oliver chimed in “What are you hunting here in the dark?”

“Wait I want to know more about the werewolves!”

“Demon” Fen stated, ignoring Abigail’s inquires.

“We’re in its prison, aren’t we?” Oliver rubbed his eyes wearily.

Abigail stopped dead in her tracks “Demon?”

Fen remained silent but nodded in conformation.

“Demon.”

“For fucks sake. Can we leave?”

“Guys, there’s a demon here?”

Fen paused thoughtfully “I do not know but I would recommend against it. The sealing power of this place is weakened. If it were to escape….”

“Yeah, yeah.” Oliver cut him off “Innocent souls consumed, bloodshed, the standard spiel.”

Fen glared openly “How carefree it must be to hold nothing sacred.”

“Not all of us wear our bleeding hearts on our sleeve.” Oliver coldly replied.

Abigail cut in between them “There’s a demon here?!”

“Yes, I thought we made it clear. Keep up farm girl.”

“How are you not panicking?!”

“Survival instinct” Oliver explained simply “You can panic when you’re not about to die.”

“Speaking of, remember not to in a moment.” Fen glanced towards a darken hallway, drawing his blade quietly.

Something changed. The air, calm and still, became tense and uneasy. Goosebumps ran down Abigail’s spine as a sense of dread filled every inch of her body.

She wasn’t the only one who felt the shift: Archibald stood closer to her, one hand his bow the other on her shoulder, his breath steady yet stiff. Oliver held his lute in a death grip, his fingers curved in anticipation and ready to pluck the strings at a moment’s notice.

“It’s coming” Oliver whispered carefully to the others, his gaze fixated on the hallway before them.

At first Abigail was unsure how the bard knew that: the house was dark and the dusty air swirling about made it hard to make out anything beside silhouettes of furniture and decor.

Then she heard it: Thud, thud, thud of uneven footsteps as the demon lumbered ever closer to the group. The scraping of wood against something seemed impossibly loud in Abigail’s ears as she tried to shove down her fear from bubbling out of her throat.

“What the hell….?” she murmured as the creature shuffled uneasily into the room.

Oliver scoffed “Yes it did come from hell. Thank you farm girl.”

“Even now? Seriously Oliver?”

“It’s how I cope.”

The demon was humanoid, 7 feet tall with splotches of bruising across its deep red skin. The form was a strange mixture of heavily muscular and malnourished. It wobbled into the room, its thinly skeletal left leg being dragged along uselessly. It flexed its thick muscles threateningly as it held a massive weighed club up with little effort. The demon studied the others with sunken flaming eyes, its skin loose and pulled over the skull like an ill fitting mask. The wispy strains of reddish black hair swayed back and forth.

Abigail’s throat dried as the room became warm and stuffy almost as if this creature’s presence alone corrupted the air around them.

Abigail coughed a little, trying to clear her airway from the heat “What is that thing?!”

“No idea.” Oliver shrugged, clearing his throat as well.

“I thought you knew everything!”

“Not even close farm girl.”

“Then why do you act like it?!”

Abigail snarled but before she could strike at the bard, she felt Archibald’s hand gently squeeze her shoulder. She turned to face him and saw him breathing deep and slow.

He was right. This was not time to let her feat lash out everyone around her. She needed to stay calm if they were going to get out of this in one piece.

The demon tilted its head curiously at the group before it. It spoke deep and gravelly with a tone that was questioning but no one knew what it was asking.

“Maybe it’s asking if we come in peace?” Abigail chimed in hopefully.

“Tis a beast from hell. Do you really think it is asking for peace?” Fen scolded harshly.

Abigail’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment “I can dream alright! It’s my first time dealing a demon from the 7th pit of hell! Forgive me if I’m holding on to childish questions cause I’m trying not to freak out here! It’s how I cope!”

The demon grumbled its question again eyeing each person carefully.

“Watch for its left hook.” Fen cryptically offered.

“What?”

The demon shrieked, rattling the house violently before reaching out with its left hand. Without warning, the arm stretched forward towards the group, the skin wrinkling and pulling loose.

Abigail froze as the sharp nails grasped wildly in her direction.

Archibald moved, shoving Abigail out of the way but ran straight into the hand’s grasp. It dug its claws into his armor though luckily it hadn’t manage pierce skin.

“Archie!” Abigail cried, fumbling uselessly for her knife.

Fen and Oliver jumped into action: As the arm pulled back to drag the helpless archer closer, Fen grappled Archibald, holding on with all his strength. Oliver pluck his lute with a dramatic flourish, gold musical symbols filling the air for a moment. Abigail flinched at the clashing notes played but the demon’s reaction to the dissonance was far more explosive: Its face contorted and recoiled as if it Oliver had physically attacked it. Its body shuddered and its claws loosened their grip. Fen jabbed his blade into the demon’s grip over and over again until it released its hold on Archibald.

Demon snarled hungrily as the arm snapped back into place.

“Archie, Archie I’m sorry I…” The words died in Abigail’s throat as he gave her a comforting smile.

“Don’t worry farm girl.” Oliver shouted, pulling at her cloak to get her moving “It happens but if you’re not good at fighting…”

“Get good at getting out of the way.” Abigail whispered back as she allowed the bard to pull her to the side.

Oliver faced Abigail questioningly “Oh you know the saying? That’ll save time.”

Abigail remained silent. Arthur used to tell her that when he joined the knights.

Fen pushed forward, sword drawn with Archibald close behind.

Archibald fired an arrow, attempting to cover Fen’s approach but it bounced harmlessly off the demon’s skin.

Fen lunged forward, swinging wide and cutting a deep gash across its chest but the beast countered, aiming its club towards the paladin’s head. He ducked, tucking under the demon’s outstretched arm and backing off.

“Oi paladin! Where’s your holier than thou smiting divine power?” Oliver called from behind a chair.

Fen didn’t reply, too busy deflecting the demon’s club with the flat of his blade. He drove his blade deep into the creature’s shoulder but the demonic entity ignored it completely. It gripped him tightly by the armor and lifted off his feet. Fen tried to push the sword deeper but it wasn’t slowing the demon.

The demon bent it shoulder in an uneven angle as it raised its club just above Fen’s head. It gave toothy smile, its fangs glistening in the dark while preparing to deal the finish blow.

It staggered backwards as an arrow struck its eye. It bounced off same as before but the demon was caught unaware and reacted instinctively.

Fen took his chance. He reached into his hood and smashed a vial of clear liquid across the stunned demon’s face.

It howled in pain as steam rolled off its burning face. The demon dropped Fen as it wildly flailed about, smashing anything nearby to splinters.

It shouted in its infernal tongue before crashing into the doorway, breaking a chunk of the wall off and retreating deeper into the house.

Archibald shakily leaned against the wall to catch his breath while Oliver approached Fen, his jaw tense with anger.

“What’s the big idea?” Oliver poked the paladin’s chest “What scam are you running?”

Fen’s face twisted in anger “Scam? How dare you speak to me like that!”

“Stow it.” Oliver snarled “You are not a paladin.”

Fen rose to full height, glaring with unrestrained rage “I AM A PALADIN! THE CHOSEN OF SOLIUS!”

“Former chosen.” Oliver spat out.

The anger drained out of Fen’s eyes only to be replaced by shame.

Oliver clenched his fist “I knew it. This isn't some mission for a higher power. This is a suicide run trying to get back in your god’s good graces! He renounced you, didn’t he?”

Abigail stood rooted in place “Is that a thing?”

“Yeah. It’s a two way street. You devote your life and existence to a god and they grant you the power to do so but if they happen not to agree with how you do things then bye bye divine magic. That’s why he wasn’t smiting it with holy energy.”

Fen said nothing.

“God this is why I hate paladins.” Oliver fumed “You act better than anyone but you’re as a big a sham as me!”

“I am nothing like you.”

“You lost all rights to your high horse pal. Now what’s the plan?”

“The plan?” Fen repeated in confusion.

“Yes focus.” Oliver replied “The plan to deal with the demon. I assume you have one or did you come in here expecting to kill it with your normal boring self?”

Fen scoffed “I am not completely brain dead. Of course I have a plan.”

“Which is?”

“The seal.” Fen awkwardly started “If we can strengthen the seal, we can weaken the demon enough to put it to sleep.”

Oliver rubbed his eyes “And of course you don’t know where it is.”

“It is well hidden for a reason.”

Oliver let out a tired sigh.

“We’ll help” Abigail jumped in “We can’t let that thing escape into the Underground.”

“And we don’t want to die.” Oliver chimed in.

“That too."

Archibald looked uneasy but resigned. This wasn’t what he signed up for but he really didn’t have a choice.

Fen raised an eyebrow “And that is it? You’ll do it out of the goodness of your heart, bard?”

“Of course not” Oliver admitted “But the sooner we get this done, the sooner I don’t have to deal with you.”

“Finally we are agreed” Fen murmured.

Abigail sighed “I wish I didn’t have to deal with Oliver anymore.”

Oliver clapped his hand together, completely ignoring Abigail “Alright, let’s see what we’re working with. How many vials of holy water do you have left?”

Fen blinked in surprise “Three but how did you…?”

“Don’t bother.” Abigail mouthed.

“Alright. Give them to Archie. He can dip his arrows in them.” Fen rolled his eyes sarcastically “And what will I use oh great amazing leader? My sword is not enough to slay the beast and I need time to apply the water as well.”

Oliver stepped closer, staring eye to eye with the paladin as he pushed his lute into his hands “If you lose this, I will kill you.”

“And what am I suppose to do with this? Play a song about friendship and love? Overcharge for a children’s rhythm?” Fen mocked.

“No you idiot.” Oliver pulled away “You beat him back to hell with it.”

Fen stared at him utterly lost.

Oliver knocked on the surface of the lute “It’s magic.”

Fen couldn’t contain his surprise despite his loathing of the bard

“Your lute is magic?”

Oliver rolled his eyes “Yes. It’s not a sword or a spear but at least you’ll be able to hurt him some. At least enough for me and farm girl to find the seal.”

“Me and who now?” Abigail shook her head “Wait, your lute is magic? Why is that important?”

“Demons are naturally resistant to mortal weapons” Fen explained as he held the lute aloft, getting a feel for its weight “It would be like attacking them with a butter knife, Painful but ultimately an empty gesture. But magic, whether spells or items imbued, can bypass their nature. Holy magic would be ideal hence the holy water.”

“But we work with what we got.” Oliver finished “And can you fight farm girl?”

Abigail shifted her foot shamefully.

Oliver snapped his finger “No. Don’t do that. Nothing wrong with not knowing how to fight. I don’t.”

“But you know magic!” Abigail argued “That’s more than me.”

“Look I don’t like you.” Oliver admitted “But beating yourself up isn’t going to save us. Yes I know magic but I’m not going to be tossing fire or lightning out of my fingertips. That’s not how my magic works. Finding that seal is just as important as Archibald’s and Fen’s job.”

Abigail glanced towards Archibald. His face was grim but determined.

“What’s your job Archie?” Abigail asked gently, unable to keep the worry out of her voice.

Archibald punched a fist into his hand.

“You’re planning on fighting? That thing?”

Archibald nodded firmly.

“Archie, you can’t be serious! What if it hurts you? I promised Cecilia I’d keep you safe! Archie…”

Abigail stopped as the archer wrapped his arms tightly around her. It was warm and gentle. Tears formed in her eyes. It felt nice to be hugged again. She hadn’t been hugged in such a long time she forgot how calming it was.

He pulled away, giving her a soft smile.

Abigail still wasn’t happy with the situation but there was little choice left.

“Alright.” Oliver spoke with an edge of finality “While you two keep the demonic asshole distracted, me and farm girl will find the seal and try to strengthen it.”

“Farm girl and I” Abigail corrected.

“Seriously?”

“No, I wanted to mess with you. It’s how I cope.”

Oliver glared “We need to move fast. Once the seal is strengthen we’ll need to make a break for the exit as soon as possible because I am not dealing this place longer than I have to.”

“Do you even know how to strengthen ancient seals?” Abigail asked

“No idea but I’m a quick study.” Oliver admitted.

Abigail glanced out the grime covered windows “That’s not very comforting. And what if those shadowy creatures are out there still?”

“That’s a for later problem. Let’s focus on one life or death situation at a time.”

“Fun” Abigail replied glumly “I’m really enjoying my time in the underground guys.”

“That’s the spirit farm girl!

“I hate you so much right now.”

[mysticaltigersorceress]

That Which Will Never Change

Hello! I took part of a server gift exchange, and this is my gift for @mushroomgrenade

This is a scenario with their oc, B. I absolutely fell in love with B while writing this, and yes, I angsted. I'm only sorta sorry xD But hey, I gave it a bittersweet ending though

Length: 2.4k

Characters: B, Izo, Ace, Haruta, Marco, Thatch, Buggy, Shanks, Whitebeard, Oden, Gold Roger, Rayleigh

Warnings: Implied Death/flashback

Ao3: (clickable)

B stepped out of her cabin into the sunlight, relishing the gentle warmth of the early morning sun. The breeze lightly rustled her hair and clothes. What a lovely day to make land.

The Moby Dick had dropped anchor at what presented itself as a calm spring island. (Who knew, knowing the weather stability of the Grandline, perhaps it would start raining spiked hail balls later.) The low rolling hills were covered in young, light green grass and the occasional scrubby bush broke up the neverending landscape. The smell of soil and wildflowers mixed with the salty sea breeze just added to the excitement of being back on land.

Of course, there were still chores and duties to carry out before they got to relax. Everyone had their assignments for what needed to be done first, and B was no exception.

B was just about to disembark when she spotted Ace and Haruta chatting outside of the washrooms. Ace was carrying a Cameko Den-Den Mushi in his hand, trying to hold it inconspicuously behind his back. Both might’ve appeared casual, but something about the way they kept snickering and glancing around told her they were up to something She perked her ears to them but didn't watch them directly so they didn't realize she was onto them.

"Ready to head into town, B?" B nearly jumped in surprise, but smiled since she recognized the voice. She turned and looked up to smile at Izo, who had materialized behind her. She pressed her finger to her lips and slyly pointed in Ace and Haruta’s direction. His brow furrowed as he looked where she pointed and tried to figure out just what she wanted him to see. A slight tilt of his head followed by the slightest grin and she knew he connected the dots.

“Just what are those two up to?"

"If I had to guess, they're up to no good." She chuckled. "Should we check, or wait to see what happens?"

Izo focused his keen eyes on them, and he slowly grinned, mischief dancing in his eyes.

"Let's wait." He smiled down at her, expression as gentle as always.

They sat against the railing together and settled into idle chatter as they waited. It wasn't long until there was a flash of light followed by angry yelling.

"WHO’S IDEA WAS IT?!" Marco bellowed and B couldn't help but laugh as he angrily burst onto the deck. His usually golden blonde hair was now dyed bright purple, and Ace and Haruta were cackling delightedly as they evaded him. Ace and Haruta decided the wisest course of action would be to escape to the island and take off running. Marco transformed his arms into wings and flew after them, hot on their heels.

"Purple looks fairly nice on him," Izo chuckled. Well, they’d relaxed long enough. Time to get to work. Izo led the way down the gangplank, B following just behind him.

"COMING THROUGH!" B checked over her shoulder and lurched out of the way of Shanks and Buggy as they barrelled haphazardly down the gangplank. Buggy was shouting at Shanks as they raced each other up the beach into a vibrant jungle, shoving his face angrily against Shanks' face, but Shanks just laughed as he always did. B shook her head and chuckled at their antics. B turned to comment to Izo, but the beach was clear. Where had Izo gone?

“B, would you mind keeping up with them?” B’s cheeks grew warm, and she turned to the ship at her back. The Oro Jackson had replaced the Moby Dick in the cove, and there on the deck stood Rayleigh. Part of her wondered what happened to the Moby Dick and the other Whitebeard Pirates, but she quickly dismissed it. She was also a member of Roger’s crew. Why shouldn’t she be here with them?

“Sure thing–” A loud crack followed by screaming and crashing came from the jungle just off the shore. “Oh, for goodness sake,” B rolled her eyes and lightly jogged up the beach into the jungle. Oden was rubbing off on those two far too much.

As she searched the foliage for the troublesome apprentices, something felt slightly off, but she couldn’t quite figure out what it was. The jungle didn’t give off any immediate signs of danger, nor could she sense any bloodlust toward her.

“Shanks? Buggy? Where did you little brats wander off to?” B yelled into the trees.

“Red nose? Red hair?”

Her voice seemed to fall flat against the trunks. No leaves rustled. There were no animals in the underbrush. No birds in the canopy.

She held still. This was the sound of perfect silence.

Where did everyone go?

B caught a flash of movement in her peripheral vision and whipped around. There was a flicker of orange amidst the green and she bolted after it, nevermind what it was. She should be able to handle it, whatever it was.

B stopped. Where had… whatever it was gone? She watched for a sign of anything living or moving around her. The jungle was eerily still again.

Wait a moment. Which way was the shore? She hadn’t gotten herself lost, had she? A final glance through the foliage and she turned back the way she came. She should get back to her crew! The trees seemed to press closer and closer together as she tried to retrace her steps. Nothing seemed familiar, nor could she see, smell, or hear the sea from where she was. Just how far had she gone into the jungle?

From her left came a rustle and B took up a defensive position. The plants shook; whatever it was drew closer. She started to launch into action but stopped when she recognized the face that poked out.

"Fushichou-chan," B relaxed. “It’s you.” Marco gave her one of his reserved smiles.

"What are you doing out here yoi? The party's already started." He gestured for her to follow him and led her through the trees. She walked close to him, close enough for their shoulders to brush. She didn’t want to get lost again. His hair was still bright purple and looked like an exotic flower had been placed atop his head. She stretched her hand out and ruffled it, chuckling quietly.

“Purple doesn’t look half bad on you,” she teased, laughing at his grumpy expression. He sulked at her laugh and grumbled under his breath about the shampoo that was now wasted due to hair dye being in it. While her gaze was fixed upon him, her foot caught on a root and she went down, throwing her hands out to catch herself. Marco caught the back of her coat before she hit the ground and lifted her up to set her back on her feet.

“Watch your step, yoi.”

“Thanks, sorry,” B mumbled apologetically. Marco responded by taking her hand in his. They continued quietly walking hand in hand, the only sound being their breathing and their feet on the dirt trail they followed.

And then, B heard something. Familiar voices grew in volume, and suddenly the path they were following opened into a large clearing where the Roger and Whitebeard Pirates were throwing a massive party.

There was one massive bonfire in the center of the clearing, but several smaller fires dotted the space surrounding. Wonderful smells and music filled the air, along with plenty of laughter and banter from the two crews. Marco waved to B and went to say hello to Crocus. B wandered into the party, simply happy to be back with her crews’.

Pops, Roger, and Oden sat together around the largest bonfire, bellowing a sea shanty in between eating and drinking. Jozu was wrestling several people all at once and still winning from what B could tell. Vista dueled with Shanks atop a table, both equally cheered on by both crews. Hugs, handshakes, and waves were distributed to her friends as she explored the festivities. But oh, what was that delicious smell?

“Dammit Ace!” B laughed when she saw what Ace was being cursed out for. Thatch was covered in splattered food and dragging Ace out of a large pot of soup, cursing his younger friend for his narcoleptic habits. Thatch laid him on the ground out of the way, where Ace continued to snore while the commander and chef simply shook his head. B joined him in watching Ace. “Of course he had to fall into the soup, couldn’t just fall backward or to the side.” Thatch complained.

B was quick to dip her finger in the soup and smiled when she licked her finger clean. “Don’t worry, he didn’t ruin the flavor.”

“Hands out!” Thatch scolded her but filled her a bowl without hesitation. “Go sit, and save me a seat!”

B parked herself at the nearest fire pit and sat on a log with plenty of room on either side of her. Kingdew, Blamenco, and Rakyuo were already seated around the fire, and they offered her a warm greeting as she joined them. She smiled and waved silently, seeing as her mouth was currently full of soup. Thatch’s soup was definitely her favorite.

They all scootched closer and brought her into their conversation, though she was too busy happily slurping her soup to add too much to their conversation verbally.

“Why didn’t you save me?”

B froze, spoon in her mouth. She whipped around, dread making her chest tight and heavy. Thatch was smiling down at her.

“Why didn’t you save me a seat?” He laughed and took a place across the fire from her, not noticing how shaken B was. Why was she trembling? Everything was okay, right? She couldn’t think of a reason it shouldn’t be.

But his words began to echo in her mind, tumbling and screaming and glitching with static.

Why didn’t you save me? Wh-y ddidn’t y-Ou SavVe mE? wH-Hy di-IdnnN’T YoUUU–

B dropped her soup and rushed to Thatch, grabbing him fiercely by the shoulders as if possessed. She checked him over frantically, looking for something to be wrong. Something was wrong, but what? The feeling of impending horror and doom filled every fiber of her being, clouded any coherent thought she might’ve previously had.

“B, you okay?” He set his own food down and placed his hands over hers, brow’s furrowed in concern. Her eyes met his, and something in her settled just a little bit. She tried to answer, but the words caught in her throat.

Thatch pulled her into a gentle hug, rubbing his hand against her back, and B latched onto him, unsure why she was so upset.

“B, what’s the matter?” She heard Ace yawn behind her. “Thatch, what did you do this time?”

Thatch didn’t answer. He couldn’t, since he didn’t know, but B knew this wasn’t his fault. Somehow, she felt whatever was wrong was her fault. Ace joined them, placing his hand on top of her head, skin impossibly warm as usual. She struggled to find words to describe what was wrong.

“Forgive me,” B whispered after what felt an eternity.

“What?” Thatch and Ace responded in unison, sounding confused. B felt confused herself. What would they need to forgive her for? But something in her told her she needed both of their forgivenesses. She pulled out of Thatch’s hug enough to look at both of them.

“Please,” She begged them. They gave each other odd looks but nodded.

“You haven’t done anything wrong by us,” Ace crouched next to her and Thatch and placed his hand on her shoulder. “There isn’t anything to forgive.”

“And even if you did wrong us, we’d forgive you. Every time.” Thatch assured her.

“You’re our family. We love you, and nothing will ever change that.”

B wrapped an arm around Ace and Thatch and pulled them into a tight embrace which they returned. She closed her eyes and tried to breathe deeply. Their warmth faded, and their bodies sagged against her, limp, heavy and cold. The sounds of the party faded away. Cold wind whipped her face, the smell of death and smoke filled the air. She opened her eyes and found herself kneeling atop the execution platform in Marineford, the destruction of the Summit War spread before her. Bodies and debris litered the ground. And the words echoed again, grating against her whole being.

WHY DIDN’T YOU SAVE US B?

B shut her eyes and dropped the bodies in her arms, avoiding looking directly at them. Her head was screaming at her, and she squeezed her head in her arms, anything to try to relieve the reverberating in her skull.

B jerked awake, breathing erratically. It took her a moment to get her bearings but recognized where she was. She was in a room at Shakky’s bar in Sabaody.

She slowly lifted her head, blinking furiously to get her eyes to adapt to the candlelight. Something was stuck to her cheek, and she carefully peeled it off and held it up to the light. It was a photograph. B must’ve fallen asleep while looking at her old photo’s. She had spread them all across the table. Some were much older than others, evident from the sun-tampered colors. A few were a bit torn, a few were more well-loved than others. Some carried food stains, some carried tear stains. But they all carried precious memories.

In the picture stuck to B’s cheek, Marco’s hair was purple as opposed to his natural blonde. He was chasing Haruta and Ace across the Moby Dick, Pops and everyone laughing in the background. Izo had taken this photo, and B was barely visible in Blenheim’s pocket, bleary from a nap. The prank had left Marco’s hair purple for nearly two months and had given everyone a good laugh.

Other pictures she’d fallen asleep on included Shanks and Buggy faceplanted in the sand after falling off of the beached Oro Jackson, Roger and Oden drunk off their arses and singing and dancing together, and a particular favorite of her, Izo, Thatch and Ace together. (Thatch was carrying a sleeping Ace like a sack of potatoes, and B got a piggy back ride from Izo.)

The dream was fading fast, but the last words were stuck on repeat in her head, like a scratched cd or a broken record.

Why didn’t you save us?

B stood abruptly and dropped the photograph on the table, suddenly aware of how wet her cheeks were. She grabbed her jacket from the bed and started to leave her room. Yet, she wavered when she got halfway out the door. The urge to go somewhere else eventually lost to another voice in her head.

We’d forgive you.

You’re our family.

B hesitatingly approached her desk, and picked up a photo of her family. Pops and all the commanders smiling up at her. Dream Ace and Marco’s voices came back to her.

We love you, and nothing will ever change that.

Nothing would ever change that.

[clan-sayeed-fic]

Let me earn your trust (Kamilah Sayeed & MC)

Previous chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13

Book: Bloodbound (property of Pixelberry Studios) Pairing: Kamilah Sayeed & MC: Amy (I do not own those characters, they're the property of Pixelberry Studios as well) Warnings: angst Rating: Mature Author's note:  I'm not a native English speaker, I'm sorry for any mistakes (feel free to correct me).

This chapter is shorter than last ones, don't hate me haha

I was thinking that I'll be able to upload the 15th chapter today too. But since I was at work yesterday and I'm going there today too, right after posting this, I know for sure that it won't happen.

When I came back home yesterday, I was so exhausted like whoa... I love this job, but when I'm not working day after day in it, it takes a lot of my energy to adjust. And what amazes me the most is that even if I can barely stand on my feet from exhaustion, I cannot fall asleep like wth... and the fun fact is that around 1:30 a.m. I came up with the last line of this fic hahaha

Idk if anyone even reads those notes haha maybe, it's better if you don't. I'm going to answer your comments, if you leave some, in the evening😄 (12 noon here)

~ 1400 words

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Chapter 14

"I wouldn't worry about what happened this much, little girl," Adam's voice got Amy's mind out of her thoughts.

Without thinking, she took a glass of water that he held for her.

Amy retained only a few flashbacks from their ride to this place. The moment when she got into a limousine. A short talk with Adam, who tried his best to make her feel better. After that, she remembered getting out of the car and how she found herself in the town suburbs. In front of the impressive mansion.

The last thing she knew was the sound of her own voice refusing the offer of wine since she still felt the end of the hangover.

And now, there she was. Sitting on this enormous, white couch. Surrounded by ornaments worth millions.

Amy took a sip of water, letting the cold liquid flow down her throat.

Another single tear escaped her eye, traveling down her cheek before she wiped it away. She hadn't felt this alone and broken during those long four years. Amy made promises in her life that she would be tough, never cry, and move on. For them.

"I know what'll make you feel better," Adam's words drew her attention. "Come with me, I can show you something wonderful."

Amy forced a weak smile and stood up, following his steps.

They walked through the living room, in the opposite direction than the main entrance. Adam guided her to other doors, which were leading to the back yard of the mansion. The man opened the doors and gestured Amy to go outside. It was still daylight, so he had to stay in the shadows.

Amy walked through the doors, being blinded by the artificial light. Her eyes needed a few moments to adjust to this source of light before she could take the surroundings in. And the view she saw was truly breathtaking.

Amy didn't know how it was possible that, despite bad weather outside, the flora here was growing such beautifully. She couldn't decide if it was thanks to the heat lamp and equally heated ground or some talented and devoted gardeners.

Either way, the creation was a true masterpiece.

The grass was mown equally, surrounding the flowers. The flora was varied in so many ways. Starting from colors, kind, to height. There were plants that she saw many times in different gardens in New York so far. But also some of them were exotic, unknown for Amy.

In the center of the garden was growing an impressive, old weeping willow. Its stems were dancing slowly in the weak wind. Some of the leaves reaching the ground, some using the wind to fly as high as it was possible.

And that was the plant that especially got Amy's attention.

She stood speechless, looking at the tree, feeling warmth spreading in her chest. Feeling of safeness.

"I can see you're mesmerized by that Salix babylonica," Adam grinned behind her.

Amy snapped out of her thoughts and smiled, feeling better.

"I reminded myself that I have seen this kind of tree somewhere else before," she said mostly to herself.

"Ah, memories..." Adam spoke with his charismatic tone. "They are a fascinating thing, aren't they? I always say... if you desire to understand someone properly, you need to face his recollections at first."

Those were powerful words that hit straight to Amy's heart.

"There is some truth in that," Amy said, her mind uncontrollably traveling to Kamilah.

They turned around and walked inside the building.

Adam stopped near the bar, filling his glass with white wine. Once again, he looked at Amy with an unspoken offer.

"Oh, thank you, I'm good," her answer was still the same, but he didn't push her.

He walked Amy to the living room, and they both sat down on the couch at an appropriate distance from each other. For a moment, no one was stopping the silence that fell between them.

Adam was gathering his thoughts and pieces of information that he had learned about this human so far. He always needed to be prepared for how the conversation would go. The coincidence in his speech wasn't an option.

"Priya told me about the night when you were working as her waitress," Adam started, taking a little sip of his drink. "I feel utterly sorry for you getting to know all of this under such terrible circumstances."

Amy looked into his eyes, and she couldn't find a lie in them. Either he was telling the truth, or she was too blind at that moment to see his manipulative side.

"It happened," Amy swallowed, rethinking what she can do and tell around this man. "And I don't regret this."

"Even turning your best friend into the vampire?" Adam asked, without judgment in his voice.

Amy moved nervously on the couch, trying to hold back her emotions.

"If you're asking me what would I rather do: undo Lily's death or getting to know all of this. The answer is obvious," Amy's expression serious. "I would never sacrifice my friend for getting us into this."

"Loyalty, I respect that," Adam clasped in his hands, putting the glass aside. "I bet you have something that most humans are searching for in a friend."

Amy felt touched by those words.

"Why are you distinguishing humans and vampires so much?" Amy asked with curiosity, trying to not sound too brazenly.

Adam stopped smiling for a moment. She took him off gourd, and that was not an easy thing to accomplish. He quickly composed himself and spoke with his usual, confident, and eloquent manner.

"Because the human part is long gone as soon as you become the vampire, my friend," Adam was waiting for Amy's agreement. He was used to people agreeing with him, but it didn't happen this time. "But, from what I can notice, you're seeing things differently?"

Amy looked at her hands while thinking about her opinion on this subject. She wasn't such naive, even if she was feeling hurt about what happened between her and Kamilah. She still knew that she had to choose words carefully when it went to this man.

"I believe that everyone is worth redemption," she said, keeping gaze of his brown eyes.

Adam smiled, being sure that Amy had nothing else to say. And when he wanted to add his few words, she spoke again.

"And..." Amy's voice was full of hope. "I believe that if you once were a human... then losing humanity after turning depends on you."

Amy choose her words on purpose. Especially those which referred to being a human before turning. She knew that even people could behave without humanity or mercy. There's no need to be a vampire to act like a bloodlust creature. And she knew that those people freaked her out even more than this new world that she was still adjusting to living in.

"I can see now what Adrian and Kamilah saw in you," Adam's voice sounded absent.

At that moment, a chauffeur walked into the living room, clearing his throat.

"You called me, sir," he bowed before them.

"Indeed," Adam cheered up, shifting back to his usual behavior. "I want you to drive Ms. Campbell to her apartment."

The chauffeur smiled at Amy, so she returned the gesture feeling more relaxed when another person appeared in the room. She stood up and followed the young man to the doors after saying goodbye to Adam.

When she was near the entrance, Adam's voice stopped her.

"And, Amelia...." he said with a neutral tone. "I'm still thinking about our deal."

Amy froze for a moment. Her muscles tensed due to the sound of the name that she hadn't heard in years. Quickly, she regained control over her body and voice, thinking that it was a common mistake to consider her name as a shortcut from Amelia.

Keeping her eyes and facial expression under control, she turned around, smiling naturally.

"You know where to find me," she said with fake confidence in her voice.

After those words, Amy turned around and walked out of the house, heading to the limo.

A bad feeling curled under her skin, but sanity made her think that it was just a coincidence.

And, as Adam said, their deal was still on.

The only thing that Amy was not aware of was how valuable information Adam learned this day.

And how it would affect his next move.

Next chapter: 15

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tag list: @onyxgaytrash, @scarlet-letter-a0114, @caliseds, 

@lightning-fury I know this chapter is more like a tease, but it’s the beginning of my big plan haha 

[jarienn972]

A Simple Spell - Chapter Fourteen

A Captain Swan Supernatural Summer Tale

For weeks, I was feeling as though this story would never come together. Amidst all of the chaos, I finally found the words again and with a few tweaks from my original plan, my @cssns​ 2019 story is at last complete!  I really want to thank everyone for all of the encouragement and wonderful comments along the way. I have to extend many thanks to @lassluna​ for her beta assistance.  Sorry this ended up taking so much longer than planned, but man, the real world can certainly be stranger than fiction! Thank you @cocohook38​ for the incredible banner you created for this story.  I plan to print it out and hang it on my wall now that this is all completed!  And thank you @kmomof4​ for being such a great cheerleader as I muddled my way through my first AU. I’m definitely looking forward to working with you on this year’s story!

When we left off, Emma had kissed Killian awake (although she doesn't know it yet) before being whisked off to a rooftop to battle Walsh. Now, having defeated him, she's still left with a ton of questions - and some of the answers just might be more than she imagined.

To get caught up from the beginning, you can find the entire story on AO3 or FF.net.  Here are the previous chapters on Tumblr:  One  Two  Three  Four  Five  Six  Seven  Eight  Nine  Ten  Eleven  Twelve  Thirteen

She should have registered some reaction as the ominous clouds drifted apart, but assuming that the trickster had been controlling the darkened skies, Emma barely noticed the evening wasn't as foreboding as earlier. Her brain was still struggling to process the sequence of events that had just taken place on the rooftop and the shocking role she'd just played. She sank to her knees in disbelief as her gaze locked on the stuffed toy that rested in the very position Walsh had stood moments ago.

Magic - magic more powerful than she'd ever experienced - had escaped from her fingertips like an electric shock, yet she hadn't really been surprised by the sensation. This new magic had felt so comfortable, so natural. Had she always had those abilities?

The only real surprise had been in her unexpected ally. There'd been something familiar in that creepy cackle but at this particular moment, she was too shaken to place the voice that had whispered in her ear. Whoever (or whatever) it had been, the shadowy figure's presence had angered Walsh. It also hadn't been fazed by Walsh's powers yet Emma was astounded to think that this person had shown a degree of faith in her powers that she wouldn't have thought she was worthy of.

It seemed to have been an eternity since she'd been whisked atop this building but how much time had actually passed? Emma finally found the strength to push herself back to her feet and took a tentative step towards the plush monkey, approaching the toy with a degree of caution as though it might spring to life. Had she really just turned Walsh Gibbons into a stuffed animal?

She slid the garnet-capped signet ring onto her index finger, finding herself twisting it mindlessly as thoughts of her actions crossed her mind. She pushed them away as she lowered her hand to scoop up the little monkey. It didn't appear quite so sinister upon closer inspection, but she wasn't taking any chances and certainly wasn't about to leave it here. After a brief examination and determination that there was no lingering paranormal effect, she tucked the toy beneath her arm. It was time to get the hell off of this roof and get back to Killian…

Killian! Her mind was suddenly in overdrive, flooded with anxiety about what may have happened to him. She patted her pockets in search of her phone before remembering that she'd set it down on the nightstand before she'd kissed Killian. Ugh… how was she supposed to find out what had happened to Killian if she couldn't call anyone? For that matter, how was anyone supposed to call to see if she was alright?

Too bad the mysterious stranger couldn't have let her know if she had the ability to poof herself back over to the hospital before vanishing…

Emma managed to locate the doorway that led to the building's stairwell and hurried down the three stories to reach the ground level, using a tiny bit of magic to unlock the door of the ice cream shop she found herself in. She took a moment to secure the lock once she was outside but she made a mental note to return tomorrow to apologize to the proprietor anyway. She'd reimburse them for the lock in the event her magic caused any permanent damage.

She darted across an empty Main Street, still clutching the stuffed monkey, and made a left on 3rd, running as fast as her feet would allow before nearly colliding with a vehicle approaching from Oak Street. Hyper-focused on finding her way back to Storybrooke Hospital and the man she was now certain was her True Love, it barely registered that the vehicle now screeching to a halt was the black and white Sheriff's cruiser and the figure leaping out of the driver's seat was her brother, David.

"Emma!" David shouted to garner her attention, but she didn't seem to have noticed him. "Emma! Stop!" Her head snapped around as she heard her name called along with the order to Stop. Now she recognized David, breathing a sigh of relief at the sight of her sibling. "Where the hell have you been?" he demanded. "Regina called me and said you vanished from the hospital and we've been searching all over town for you…"

"I'm fine, David," she insisted, not wanting to waste time explaining things to her brother right now. "It's all over and I promise, I'll tell you everything, but right now, I need to get to Killian. I need to know that he's okay…"

"Your pirate, uh…, I mean Captain is fine. He's awake and confused, just as we all are."

"Then give me a ride over there."

"Yeah…, sure," he replied as he calmed down enough to notice the toy tucked in the crook of her arm. "But can you tell me what's with the monkey?"

"That is a very long story," Emma stated as she tossed the plush toy into the back seat of the cruiser before climbing in to the passenger seat. "I'll try to explain later… if I can figure it out myself first…"

"I'm going to regret asking, aren't I?" David asked as he slid back into the driver's seat and pulled the door closed while Emma fastened her seat belt. She answered him with simply a shrug of her shoulders. She'd just defeated a powerful demigod, albeit a weakened one, who had masqueraded as someone she'd once loved. She'd put an end to the town's history of supernatural challenges designed to strip witches of their magic. She'd thought to ask questions, to do the research that her mother hadn't done and now, it was time to reunite with the man she'd known for only a week. The man she now knew was her true love.

She certainly had some interesting conversations ahead of her.

**********

David slightly abused his authority as Sheriff as he sped his sister to the front entrance of Storybrooke Hospital, lights flashing and siren blaring the whole way. Using David's phone, Emma messaged Regina to ask her to lower the protective spell, promising she'd explain everything (at least as well as she could) when she arrived. She didn't have the faintest idea what she was going to say but something would come to her. At least she hoped something would come to mind since she really wasn't sure herself.

Regina's face wasn't exactly the one Emma wanted to see as the elevator doors parted so she tried her best to disguise the disappointment on her face when her cousin started asking questions before she could even step into the corridor.

"Emma, what the hell happened? Where did you go?" Regina impatiently rattled off her inquisition but before Emma could even open her mouth to reply, David held up his hand with the best I've got this expression on his face.

"Give her a minute or two, Regina," David stated, ushering the mayor aside while Emma slipped past. "She's had a rough day and just uncovered her true love. Don't you think they deserve a moment alone?"

Emma grinned at her brother's words. It had to be killing him to say that, she thought as she overheard Regina sputtering through a dejected reply. Madame Mayor wasn't used to being usurped by her underlings, even if they were her relatives.

Her heart was pounding and her skin was flushed as she passed through the open doorway into Killian's room, finding him seated atop the bed wearing the same dusty black jeans he'd had on when she'd found him in Walsh's root cellar. He'd clearly been rushing to dress himself, his midnight blue tee-shirt still clutched in his hand when she entered. His back was to her but he turned immediately to face her at the sound of her footsteps on the tile. Her breath hitched in her throat for a split-second at the sight of his bare, well-toned chest, eyes drifting to the patches of dark, thick hair trailing across his pectorals and down the center of his abdomen.

"Killian, hi…," she stammered, lifting her gaze to meet his eyes before he caught her checking him out. The sly smile that crossed his lips indicated she was probably too late.

"Emma...I'm so glad to see you, Love," he said, dropping the tee-shirt onto the bed as he stood to face her. Both felt equally awkward and anxious, having learned in very different ways that they were true loves. They still had so much to learn about the other. There were so many more words to be said and time to be spent together but in this instant, all of those seemed insignificant as she rushed toward his open arms. Without hesitation, he drew her to him and captured her parted lips with his. Emma sighed into his kiss as their bodies pressed together, relaxing as she relished his embrace, the fear of losing him diminishing as she gently caressed his wounded shoulder.

Without breaking their connection, Emma wiggled her fingers in the direction of the door, willing it to close as the sudden need for a little privacy struck her. As she heard it slam shut at her command, the corners of her mouth upturned into a deeper smile that Killian reciprocated when he noticed the glass wall of the hospital room frosting over with an opaque white film as if by magic.

Pure true love magic.

The Next Day

An overnight in a hospital bed was certainly not the evening Killian Jones would have preferred to spend with his newfound true love. Dr. Whale had insisted his patient stay the night for observation since he hadn't been able to determine the unknown substances present in Killian's blood. Emma knew it was the sleeping potion, but Dr. Whale didn't know that. The doctor saw a man who'd been inexplicably unconscious for hours with a stab wound in his shoulder and despite Killian's arguments that he kept his hook spotless, Whale had insisted on intravenous antibiotics to stave off infection. The stubborn captain was finally forced to concede defeat when Emma reminded him that his abductor might have subjected Killian's hook to some less-than-sanitary treatment before shoving it into his shoulder - not that Killian wasn't going to grumble about his additional night of forced captivity.

Having slept for a full day already, Killian was wide awake so, despite her own exhaustion, Emma stayed up to talk with him as long as she physically could, eventually drifting off to sleep curled into his uninjured side on the narrow bed. He wrapped his arm around her, careful not to entangle her in the tubes and wires attached to him while he thought of ways to inform his crew that they'd be remaining moored in this port for a little while longer.

When released shortly after 9 o'clock, David met them at the curb, dropping off Emma's car while Graham waited in the cruiser across the street to drive his boss back to the station. They'd both agreed that Emma deserved a couple of days off so they offered to cover her shifts until Wednesday to give her some time to decompress. She, of course, planned to spend as much of that time as possible with Killian Jones.

Emma drove Killian to the harbor, leaving him to reclaim his position as Captain while she made a brief trip back to the loft for a much needed hot shower and a change of clothes. She assured him that she'd return in an hour or two and whether or not it made her the talk of the town, she had no intention of leaving his side tonight.

She managed to dodge most of Mary Margaret's questions as she cleaned up and pulled on a pair of faded blue jeans that she paired with a casual charcoal grey sweater. She hurried downstairs clutching her favorite ankle boots, flopping onto one of the kitchen chairs to tug them on while her sister-in-law brought her a brown paper bound parcel.

"I almost forgot," Mary Margaret spoke up as she extended the package towards Emma. "This came for you this morning."

"It did?" Emma asked quizzically as she took the parcel into her own hand. She didn't see any postmarks or return address on it and she hadn't been expecting anything. What was this that had mysteriously arrived today?

"I found it on the doorstep after David left to pick you up."

"Oh, okay… Thanks." Emma peeled off the paper wrapping and was stunned to find that beneath that outer layer was her mother's journal. "You didn't happen to see who left this, did you?" she asked as her sister in law turned on the faucet to start washing the breakfast dishes.

"Uh, no, sorry."

"That's okay. I think I may know…" Maybe she'd been wrong about something here but she knew she'd need to make a pit stop on the way back to the harbor. "I've got to get going. Thanks for this."

"Enjoy the time with your Captain," Mary Margaret dismissed her with a knowing grin as the sink filled with hot water.

**********

But the Jolly Roger wouldn't be her immediate destination. Emma drove to Main Street and eased her Bug to the curb, setting her jaw firmly as she parked the car and clambered out, clutching the toy monkey that had materialized the previous night in her left hand. She stomped fervently to the entrance to the pawn shop and unceremoniously shoved the door open, thankfully finding no patrons in the shop as the little warning bell attached to the handle sounded. Without waiting for the shop's proprietor to emerge from the back room, she flipped the Open sign over to read Closed instead.

She'd rather this be a private conversation.

A slightly perturbed Mr. Gold emerged from beyond his bead curtain as Emma flopped the stuffed toy atop his glass countertop.

"Deputy Swan… To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit this morning?" He stabbed a bony finger at the toy littering his counter. "And what's with the toys? If you're planning to pawn that, it's hardly worth anything…"

"I think you know why I'm here," she replied. "I think you know a lot more than the little bits and pieces you've been feeding me."

"Am I supposed to know what that means?"

"Yeah, I think you do. After all, you showed up to help me last night - albeit in a very different form. Just who the hell are you? Forget that… what the hell are you?"

Gold sighed dejectedly then raised his hand and locked the door with a flick of his wrist. "Seems as though we should keep this between us."

"Fine with me, as long as you start telling me the truth!"

"Truth can be subjective, Miss Swan. You of all people should understand that."

"Understand what? How everyone has lied to me since the moment I arrived into this town? I used to think I could tell when people lied to me, but then I came here and suddenly, I have no idea who I can trust…"

"I'm afraid that's because the spell your mother gifted you with doesn't work within the boundaries of Storybrooke. She intended it to protect you from those outside our town lines, not within."

"So people from Storybrooke can lie to me all they want and I'd never know it? How do I know you're not lying to me right now?"

"Because right now, your desire for the truth has brought you here, exactly as I knew it would."

"You knew. I knew it!" she exclaimed although there was still a heavy degree of skepticism in her voice. "What the hell is going on here? Last night, I got transported across town, had a battle with a damned trickster who once pretended to care for me, had some creepy, shadowy figure show up and give me this…," she unfurled her right hand to reveal the garnet ring that had repelled Walsh's magic. "And then a magical shield suddenly deflected his magic and he disappeared, leaving only this little plush monkey where he'd been standing. But I'm pretty sure you already knew all of that since you were the shadowy figure up on that rooftop with me. Isn't that right, Dearie?"

Gold chuckled, picking up the toy to examine it. "You're every bit the witch I knew you would be, Emma. From the moment your powers emerged, I knew you'd be the one to save this town."

"And I thought you barely knew my family? What else do you know about us? About my mother?"

"As much as any grandfather should - except how to protect her…"

"Grandfather?" Emma wasn't sure if what he was saying was real, but she found herself suddenly speechless.

"You wanted to know who I was. When I founded this town, my name was Francois Albert Blanchard. Of course, that's just one of many names I've used over the centuries and I projected a far different appearance. I was a little taller and a little burlier back then… Something more like this…" The old man snapped his fingers and in the blink of an eye, an entirely different person stood before her. This person stood six inches taller in stature and had a far stockier build than that of the often frail looking Mr. Gold. And there was no doubt that he was the spitting image of the Blanchard family patriarch.

"What are you…?" Emma demanded, backing a step away from the counter as the image of her great grandfather vanished and the familiar face of the pawn shop owner reappeared. "Walsh said something about me being descended from something more evil than him… I didn't believe it but I don't know what to believe right now…"

"Walsh wasn't wrong - there is a degree of evil to me. As the living embodiment of dark magic, there always will be evil that comes with that. I've been called many things throughout the years but essentially The Dark One has been the name that stuck."

"The Dark One? Seriously? Are you another immortal like Walsh? Another trickster?"

"You're not entirely wrong, Dearie. While my powers are not exactly akin to my more volatile brother, there's some degree of similarity between the two of us."

"Brother? Walsh was your brother? Please tell me you're kidding me…"

"Well, adopted brother. My mother had a habit of bringing home strays back then. His given name was actually Malcolm. Believe it or not, he was once the epitome of light magic - well, at least he was when we left the old world. He quickly discovered what so many magic practitioners learn the hard way - power corrupts. Unfortunately, he became addicted to it. By the time we'd founded this town to create a refuge for those like us, Malcolm was growing crazed for power. So, I created a talisman that would temper his magic. It kept him tied here to Storybrooke."

"Walsh… Malcolm… he said you'd kept him tethered here… That ring? That was the talisman, wasn't it? But if you had his powers under control, why couldn't you stop him?"

Gold sighed, leaning back against the doorframe as he tried to determine the best way to answer. "After our falling out, Malcolm vanished off into the woods and no one saw him for years. I'd honestly lost track of him, and interest in finding him, until the attack on Ursula. By then, I'd been here far too long as a Blanchard so I had to leave for a while. When I returned, my children were long grown and I bore the appearance of someone my grandchildren's age. No one had heard of or from Malcolm in a generation, yet somehow, the tale of the town's founding had evolved into the one you heard - one about a warlock seeking to trick witches out of their magic through unknown challenges rather than a rogue trickster who'd been stripped of most of his powers playing absurd, dangerous games."

"You came back and joined the coven with your own granddaughters? Interesting… and only a little disturbing…" She'd barely processed half of what he'd divulged and none of it was getting easier to digest.

"I joined the coven to protect my family. I just couldn't let them know who I was. I did everything I could to help teach them to respect magic, but I didn't know about that ridiculous love spell Malcolm planted until it was too late. He was calling himself Ozmund by then and I know he targeted your mother on purpose. He knew Ava was a Blanchard so he knew her powers would help restore his own, but he had to defeat her to steal them. I hated seeing what he did to her…"

"Let me get this straight - your power-crazed brother pretended to romance his own great-niece to steal her powers? Adopted or not, do you have any idea how depraved that is? And then - damn… He did the same thing to me?" Emma was suddenly sick to her stomach at the thought of her time spent with Walsh in Boston, now ever so thankful that their relationship had never advanced to the bedroom. "I think I'm going to be sick…"

"Try to save the retching until you're out of my store. You've no blood relation, but I agree, it was rather disturbing. I didn't know him anymore. He'd become every bit as evil and dark as I was, perhaps more so, and I had hoped that after he stole your mother's powers that he'd just leave Storybrooke and never return. He'd regained enough to cross the town line. He had no reason to come back here…"

"Until he ran into me," Emma realized. Walsh or Malcolm or whatever his name was might not have come back if he hadn't stumbled into her in Boston. "He said that running into me in Boston was completely by chance. He recognized me because I look so much like my mother. Did I bring him back here?"

"You're not to blame. No one ever set the story straight that there was no actual warlock and your mother never completely recovered from her ordeal. When you started showing signs of birthright magic - magic that comes from within, not learned from a spell book, she got scared. She took you and ran from Storybrooke, leaving your heartbroken family behind. She didn't understand she would have been safer staying here."

Emma paced a circle through the center of the shop, her mind spinning with information overload. What a week this had been…

"Walsh said he'd been back here though… Even you confirmed that you'd seen him, did work for him… He came back before I did so why didn't you stop him then? According to you, my mother's box was here the whole time so why didn't you use the talisman against him again?"

"I couldn't," Gold confesses with a loud sigh. "When he returned, Malcolm was stronger than I'd expected and as I'd done to him, he created a talisman to control my powers. In a game of chess, we'd have both been in check. I couldn't deny his requests whether it be creating potions, gathering exotic elixirs and supplies from abroad… or sending a letter…"

A letter? Emma's pupils broadened as it instantly clicked. "About a year ago, a letter showed up addressed to my mother. It had a return address here in Storybrooke. That's what sparked my interest because she'd never mentioned Storybrooke before. My curiosity got the best of me and it brought me here - right into his trap…"

"That was precisely what he wanted. He saw you in Boston and thought you'd be the weakest link of the Blanchard heirs, but he completely underestimated your tenacity - and your natural ability to question everything. That proved his downfall."

Emma was overwhelmed. She hadn't walked in here expecting any of this, but there as more she needed to know. "You created the sleeping potion that he used on Killian, didn't you?"

"You mean the young man who proved to be your true love? Unfortunately, yes, I did. I'm glad your heart was strong enough to let you see through it."

"Was kissing him really the only way to wake him?" The old man nodded, confirming that it had indeed been their true love that awakened Killian. "Alright…, I've heard about as much as my head can handle for one day but I've got two last questions. First - does Belle know who and what you are?"

"She does not. As of this moment, you are the only one who knows who I am. I change my appearance gradually each year to mimic aging and eventually, I will have to leave her and our son. In a few years, I'll return with a new identity."

"Sounds like a pretty lonely existence…"

"After five centuries, you've no idea…," he mused, voice deep with melancholy. "What was your other question?"

"Was Walsh really waiting for some package to arrive or was that all an act?"

"Oh, he was definitely anxiously awaiting an elixir he'd procured from some distant realm. Supposedly, it would have granted him the ability to use his powers beyond the bounds of Storybrooke."

"He could have used his magic in the outside world?"

"Was that a third question, Miss Swan? I'm afraid I don't know the answer to that one, but I do have work to get back to. Don't you have your Captain to return to as well?"

"Yeah, I do. Thank you for your honesty. Your secret is safe with me, but when I've finished digesting all of this overload, I'll be back with more questions."

"I'm certain you will," he replied, squeezing the body of the toy monkey as he carried it back into his private sanctuary beyond the beads. She hadn't expected he'd want to keep it, but he'd not asked for the garnet ring back. Perhaps it's job was done or perhaps it was just time to bequeath it to the new generation. Either way, she slipped it into her jacket pocket as she unlocked the door and reversed the sign to again read Open with the slightest wiggle of her index finger.

Gold listened for the bell on the door to chime, for the echo of footsteps to dissipate before returning to the shop, the plush monkey still clutched in his left hand. He watched Emma make an illegal u-turn in the middle of Main Street as she departed for the harbor front. Satisfied that the only person in Storybrooke who knew his secret was out of sight, Gold propped the toy on the counter and let out a hearty chuckle.

"You've never looked better, Malcolm," he said snidely as his palm closed over the toy's head. Gripping the body with his other hand, he twisted the head and yanked it from the body, spilling foam and polyester stuffing onto the glass countertop. "I warned you to leave my family alone," he continued, pulling stuffing from the toy by the fistful until a gold ring nearly identical to the one Emma had left with toppled out from amongst the fluff except the the capping stone was a deep smoky topaz instead of a garnet. "I knew you'd have it on you," Gold beamed with a wide, toothy grin as he slipped the ring onto his left middle finger, relishing the warm glow it gave off. "The Dark One has returned."

There were no ears to hear his announcement. No one to share his elation over the sensation of lost magic once again coursing through his veins. He didn't need it to be broadcast though. The extent of his power would remain a secret and both that secret and his legacy would be secure with his great-granddaughter.

**********

The jovial face of William Smee was the first to greet her as Emma bounded up the gangplank and stepped onto the deck with a canvas backpack slung over her left shoulder. After last night's supernatural darkness, today's brilliant sunshine was welcoming. The bay was so calm she barely noticed the ship bobbing with the gentle waves.

"Deputy Swan! It's so wonderful to see you," Mr. Smee smiled as he offered an arm to steady her land legs while maneuvering around and over obstacles including buckets, mops and ropes. "Sorry it's such a mess. Last night's storm did a number on the deck…"

"I'm sure it did. Is Killian… uh, Captain Jones in his quarters?"

"He is indeed," Smee replied. "He's been expecting you, but he has been resting as the doctor ordered. Is it true that we'll be spending another two weeks here while he recuperates?"

Emma had to stifle a giggle at Smee's question, wondering what else Killian had told them to explain why they weren't sailing out this week as planned. "Uh, yeah… the doctor didn't want him heading out into the open ocean until his shoulder is healed. Not taking any chances, you know?" She hoped her story was close enough to whatever tale Killian had spewed to be believable. Of course, she doubted it would take long for the crew to figure out the real reason.

"No matter. We're all just glad you were able to find the captain and bring him back to his ship. He instructed me to have Cookie send down some luncheon items for you once you arrived. I'll make sure to do that."

"Thank you, Mr. Smee," she replied as she raised the hatch to Killian's quarters. Smee helped her hold it open as she descended into the cabin at the ship's stern, finding Killian seated at his writing desk when she reached the bottom.

"Hello, Love," he smiled, standing to meet her in the center of the cozy cabin as the hatch fell closed above them.

"Hello to you, too," she responded, tossing her backpack onto the chair he'd just vacated. "Aren't you supposed to be resting?"

"This is resting," was his reply as he slipped his arms around her waist. "I'm resting my eyes on the most beautiful woman in all the realms."

"Really? I don't think this would meet those doctor's orders…," she teased him, brushing her lips against his cheek as she eased him backwards toward his bunk. His untrimmed stubble prickled her skin as he turned his head to try to capture her lips with his own but before he could, she pushed him down onto the mattress. "You're supposed to be resting…"

"And I do indeed plan to rest, but right now, I desperately want to kiss you…" She almost wanted to burst out laughing at the ridiculous pout on his face but she held her composure as she flopped down next to him on the narrow bed, tossing a couple of jewel toned silk pillows to the wall as she reached over and began to unbutton his shirt. "Now Emma…, I thought you intended for me to rest?" he said in mock protest as she undid the rest of the buttons and gently slid the fabric over his bandaged shoulder first before he shrugged it off his other arm.

"Oh, I fully intend to help you rest," she assured him as she planted a tender kiss on his crinkled forehead. "You're way too overdressed…"

"I do enjoy the way you think," he smirked as she shook her head.

"Don't think too much into it - at least not today," she stated, noting the immediate disappointment in his gaze. "You really do need to rest. You look exhausted, even if that potion did make you sleep an entire day. I promise you, I'm not going anywhere though. According to the laws of magic, you're my true love and honestly, I really don't want to screw this up. I want to take this time to fill in some blanks. To get to know you. Hell, I want to get to know me… A whole lot has changed for me this week and I hope you understand…"

"Emma, Love… I would wait an eternity for you. If fate means for us to be together, you won't find argument from me. I've been smitten with you from the very moment I laid eyes upon you and all this week, I've dreamed that you would feel the same."

"Well, how's this for an answer…?" She leaned closer to him, at last pressing her lips into his, gently at first but becoming increasingly fervent, driven by a passion she'd never experienced before.

So this was what true love felt like? Maybe she still had a lot to learn… And she was more than willing to commit a lifetime to it.

[aire101]

Ferrum Chapter 4

Hey y'all, got this chapter out a bit sooner than the last one!

For those who read the light novels of SAO this chapter will be kinda familiar, for those who have only watched the anime, this is the town where Kirito ran to after leaving Klein in Episode 1, and the quest where he got his Anneal Blade we see in the series.

Also, while I make no promises that it will make it into the story, I am open to suggestions on what kind of adventures or shenanigans you would like to see the boys get up to in SAO. As I've mentioned previously I don't really intend to get the boys mixed up too much in the main canon, so if there's an aspect of the SAO world in general you'd like to see explored outside of the main battles and Kirito's storyline I'm open to considering it. I'm also ok with interactions with known characters, just trying to avoid writing the whole Kirito centric Aincrad arc.

--------------

Activate-Vertical slash-hold

“Switch!”

1-2

“Switch!”

Defend-rage spike, upward strike—

“SWITCH!”

Peter fell back again, the post motion-delay that set in for a measly few seconds was nevertheless a highly vulnerable moment that he and Mr. Stark had figured out a work around for early on in their trek. The boars from Day 1 had been easy one hit kills, so they hadn’t noticed the system forced post-motion cool down period until they had been fighting on the road the next day. Their tag-team approach served them well, and best that Peter could tell from when they came upon other players in the wild, most of the rest had come to the same conclusion that they had. Because of that, it was unusual these days to find someone soloing in the pvp areas by choice.

Mr. Stark switched in with a strong horizontal slash, bringing the Little Nepenthe's HP down to zero.

“You know, I was never one for plants anyway, but after this quest I swear to god I will never put a single point into the gardening skill,” said Mr. Stark as he sheathed his sword.

“I’ve told you, green stuff is sadness and disappointment solidified,” replied Peter, following suit.

“I still expect you to eat your greens, kid.”

“It’s a tragedy, I tell you. Here we are, trapped in a fantasy game and every meal is still served with vegetables.”

“Yeah, that’s the real tragedy here.”

“I want my money back.”

“You weren’t even the one who bought the game. But either way, I’ll buy you every Playstation, X-Box, and Nintendo game ever in existence when we get back if you just never touch a full dive ever again,” said Mr. Stark, laughing.

And there’s Peter’s daily reminder that he still hadn’t informed Mr. Stark of the horrific truth of his situation.

“I think it’s time to call it a night, Underoos.”

“Is this quest even worth it? We’ve been out here for like three days weeding these things out. The drop rate on this thing is atrocious,” moaned Peter.

“From what our source says, this quest has one of the best weapons you can find on this floor as it’s reward. And while I’ve been funneling as many points as possible into weapon creation, its not quite where it needs to be to match that yet, so better to start with a good blade and just do the enhancement myself. Also, don’t think I didn’t notice that terrible pun, you should be ashamed.”

“Hey, there’s no shame in my pun game.”

Mr. Stark gave a deep sigh/groan before he turned and started walking back towards the direction of Horunka Village. He probably had rolled his eyes too, but it was impossible to tell through the helmet he always wore.

Night had long since fallen over Aincrad, and it had been dark in the forest even before that. Pale blue light slit through the trees overhead, lighting the path, but otherwise they made their way by memory and intuition. A breeze stirred up leaves from the ground, and Peter shivered slightly from the cool night air.

“Do you think its going to snow here in the winter?” asked Peter.

“If we’re all still here in the winter—which all signs point to yes— I think it will. We can see from the thunderstorm last week it has a functioning variable weather simulator. I wasn’t a part of that programing team obviously, so I don’t know for certain just how far that variable goes, but I would think the primary associated weather variations like rain, snow and heat waves will be included. It might also vary by floor. Probably won’t know the answer to that until we get a few floors opened up,” answered Mr. Stark.

“Huh… something to look forward to I guess,” said Peter.

“Why? You don’t get enough snow in Queens?” Mr. Stark said with a joking tone.

“Yeah, but you know in the real world I kinda have to be careful with the cold. My body temperature runs a bit cooler than the average, so unless I’m in the suit I try to keep exposure to a minimum. In here I can probably spend all day in it with out any trouble,” said Peter.

“I didn’t know that, actually,” said Mr. Stark, this time far more seriously. “You haven’t mentioned it, and I hadn’t thought about that at all.”

“Oh. Well, that built in heater and temperature regulator in the suit pretty much took care of the problem. It’s just something I have to keep in mind,” said Peter, awkwardly trying to cover his slip up. Obviously that had been a conversation they had some time after Mr. Stark’s last memory.

It had been almost two weeks since they had been locked in this game, and Peter was still no where close to figuring out how Mr Stark was even here. And he was equally no where closer to telling Mr. Stark the truth about the events in the real world— Thanos and the Infinity Stones, Mrs. Stark and Morgan, Mr. Stark’s death and Peter’s own—

“Anyway, we should definitely make a day of it once it does. I don’t know about you, but its been years since I built a snowman and I kinda want to change that,” said Peter, quickly diverting his thoughts.

“Sure, might as well. Not like we’re going anywhere fast in here. Though if you start singing Frozen songs I might reconsider.”

“You know, they’ve written out your entire life story in news articles and magazines, but they always leave out how much of a killjoy you are.”

“Whatever, kid. I’m the life of the party.”

“A retirement party, maybe.”

Mr. Stark threw the finger back over his shoulder at Peter and kept walking.

Peter was just just about to follow suit when out of the corner of his eye, the sight of polygons coalescing into a hazy form caught his attention.

It was obviously another Little Nepenthe, but above the typical hellish roots and vines and the bizarre, speckled pitcher plant topped with its gaping fanged mouth, was a large, blood red bloom.

Petter inhaled sharply, the sound causing Mr. Stark to spin around as well.

This was it. This is what they were looking for.

Before the creature could attack and he could second guess himself, Peter drew his sword and leapt in with a swift Horizontal Strike at the plant’s weak spot— the joint between the stalk and the pitcher.

The strike hit true, and before the evil hell plant got even a single chance to spew its corrosive liquids, it dissolved back into broken polygons, leaving behind nothing but the delicate flower holding the Ovule they had searched for.

“Whoa! You actually got one!”

Mr. Stark and Peter both spun around, swords raised. Behind them stood another player no older than Peter, with his arms now raised in a sign of surrender.

“Sorry! I was using my hide skill in here. It doesn’t really work on the Little Nepenthes, but it helps avoid other confrontations,” said the player.

Despite what they said, Peter took a good look around, searching for others. The timing and the seeming lack of a party giving good reason for concern. PKers lurking around valuable drop spots to attack and rob unsuspecting players of their loot wasn’t an uncommon thing in PvP games, and unfortunately not even a full two weeks in, SAO was no exception. In any other game, they may simply be considered griefers. But here, to the best of their knowledge it was nothing short of murder.

“Where’s the rest of your party?” asked Mr. Stark, not lowering his blade.

“Eh, I don’t really have one,” said the guy sheepishly

“Forgive me if I find that a little hard to believe,” said Mr. Stark. “Kid, do you see anyone else? Or are they hidden as well?”

“Look, there’s really no one else, its just me. People in here don’t really like my type,” said the guy, with a sad note in his voice.

“Oh…” said Mr. Stark, voice now tinged more compassion than aggression. “You’re a beta tester, aren’t you kid?”

The guy flinched, but nodded. “Please, I promise I’m just doing some light grinding in the area. There’s no one else, and I already have the quest item.”

Mr. Stark didn’t sheath his sword, but he gave a nod and backed away.

“Alright, good luck then,” he said.

The other player nodded in return, turned and walked back into the woods.

“Pocket the ovule quick and keep an eye out. Don’t sheath your sword until we get back into town,” said Mr. Stark before he began running back in the direction of Horunka village.

Peter slipped the item into his inventory and easily kept pace with the other man. After a few minutes of running, Peter finally spoke up, “Do you think he was telling the truth? Pretty surprising he freely admitted to that. For all he knows we could have been Beta Killers.”

“If we had killed someone our player cursors would still be orange. It is unusual though. He must have figured it was worth the risk to try and get us to back off,” said Mr. Stark. “Poor kid, as if being stuck in this game wasn’t bad enough, having to hide a beta status from other players…”

Just as Mr. Stark had expected that first day, it didn’t take long before the terrified and angry masses started looking for someone to blame. And with Kayaba disappearing into the digital ether, apparently the scapegoats they chose were the 700 or so beta testers who had logged in with the rest that day. According to most pub talk, the beta testers had left the rest of the players in the dust of the Town of Beginnings, getting through the most lucrative quests and hunts before most even dared to leave the city. They were condemned as selfish and greedy, and were therefore persona non-gratis in most parties. Even worse were the stories of betas being outright murdered and monster PK’d. Out of the almost 1000 players who were already dead about two weeks in, around 150 had been beta testers. A staggering amount given how few of them there had been. Plenty had undoubtedly met their end due to the game itself, but many had ended up victims of angry mobs.

Peter didn’t understand it. Yeah, the beta testers had more info and experience than the rest, but they had shared much of that info on the internet before the game even began. Then after a few days in game, vendor markets began carrying a free SAO Guide booklet created by someone called ‘The Rat’, who had clearly made and circulated the original file Ned had uploaded to the Nervegear. Almost anything you could want to know was available. It was how they had learned of this quest in the first place.

“Hey Ferrum, why do people have to suck so bad?” asked Peter, mostly rhetorically.

“If I had the answer to that, I wouldn’t have been a weapons manufacturer.”

After a few minutes of running they finally crossed over into the town Safe Zone. Horunka was a small village, with only about ten buildings in all. One of which was the house of the NPC who gave the quest, and their current destination.

As they walked down the road towards the house, several parties milled about, clearly having just returned from their own hunts. A couple eyed the two of them as they walked through.

“Looks like someone finally managed to snag an ovule. Lucky bastards…” someone muttered.

“Who actually wears a helmet in this game?” said another.

“Yikes, imagine being stuck in here with your dad…”

Overhearing that last line caused Peter’s face to flush, which given its digital nature was just plain unfair. Did they have to be that thorough?

No bigger than the town was, they were soon standing in the living area of the house. The lady of the house whom they had met previously still stood stirring a pot of simmering liquid, her expression drawn and tired. The only thing that about her that gave her away as an NPC rather than a player was the exclamation mark hovering above her head in the place of a player cursor, indicating a quest in progress.

“Go on, kid,” said Mr. Stark, staying by the door.

Peter slowly approached. Even knowing that the woman was an NPC, it still felt rude to just barge into the house without invitation. He brought up is inventory and took out the ovule, handing it out to her to take.

Immediately her face brightened, and Peter couldn’t help but wonder just how developed the NPC AIs were. Were they simple rudimentary ones like most games? Or were they more like Mr. Stark’s AIs? Was she aware of what she was?

“Oh, thank you so much, kind swordsman! My daughter has only grown worse since we last spoke, I was beginning to worry she may not make it till your return,” she said, taking the ovule from my hand and adding it to the pot.

I saw my quest log update to the left of my view, but I was distracted by the sound of deep coughs coming from further in the house.

“Here, this blade has been passed down in my family for generations, but I gladly trade it in exchange for your aid saving my child’s life. Take it with my blessing,” said the lady, pulling a blade encased in a worn red sheath from an old trunk. With both hands she extended it out to me to take, a smile still on her lips, tears of gratitude sparkling in her eyes.

“Thank you,” said Peter, perhaps unnecessarily, but old habits die hard.

The lady nodded in response and went back to stirring the pot in the kitchen. The quest was complete.

In the center of his field of vision, Peter received a message declaring as much, along with one noting the EXP points gained.

“Alright, let’s head back to the inn and get some grub and call it a night,” said Mr. Stark, holding the door open for him.

Behind them the lady did not acknowledge them at all, but began carefully ladling the contents of the pot into a cup. Peter wondered if somewhere inside there really was a little NPC girl the lady tended to day in and day out, forever trying to alleviate an illness she was created to suffer through.

As Peter walked through the doorway out into the night, he thought back to Aunt May. Back to when he always seemed to catch whatever bug was going around at the time. She may not be the best cook, but one thing she had down pat was chicken noodle soup. She would stand over a pot in the kitchen just like the NPC had, cooking up a big batch that he could easily heat up through out the day when he felt up to eating. Their finances being what they were, she and Ben could not always get out of work so easily, if at all. They did their best to schedule their work so one could be there with him, but sometimes the overlap just wasn’t quite there. Fortunately, a little old lady all the apartment kids called Nana lived a couple doors down from them and was usually content to be on call for kids who needed it.

He wondered what Aunt May was doing right now. Was she sitting beside his hospital bed, holding his hand, but he couldn’t feel it? Were they literally in the same room with each other, but worlds apart? Would she talk to him like she used to when she thought he was sleeping, hoping against everything that he could somehow hear her? What would she say? They had only just started finding their new normal when this happened…

He looked down at this hands, but all he could feel was the weight of the sword he still held.

Tears came, unbidden and unwanted.

If that bastard was going to lock them in this prison, the least he could have done was not code in visual emotion effects.

“Awww… look at the little boy crying,” mocked one of the players outside the inn as they passed.

“Don’t be an asshole, Derrig. You cried for two days straight when this shit started,” said one of his party members, while slapping the offender on the back of the head.

“You ok, Peter?” asked Mr. Stark quietly. “I would offer to go beat the shit out of that guy, but not sure if its worth a duel.”

“No, don’t do that. I’m alright,” said Peter. “Let’s just get up to the room.”

“You go on up, I’ll order some dinner to be delivered,” said Mr. Stark.

Peter nodded. They pretty much always ate in a room so that Mr. Stark could remove his helmet. Occasionally Peter wished they could eat with the other players, just to visit with someone else for a change. This wasn’t one of those nights.

Once in their room, Peter quickly removed most of his gear, leaving only his breaches and his tunic. The sword he placed on the table.

Apparently the sword was called ‘Anneal Blade.’

Peter fell back into a chair, letting his head roll back, closing his eyes.

In the real world, he would undoubtedly be able to hear every conversation going on in the rooms around them, as well as whatever hubbub was going on in the main room downstairs. But in here there was naught but silence. It had taken him a bit to get used to not hearing literally everything going on around him. He hadn’t realized just how much noise he was used to constantly filtering through in his day to day life until it was completely removed. He had thought he would love not having to deal with his extra sensitive senses, but come to find out it was pretty anxiety inducing to have them taken away, like an extended bout of sensory deprivation.

If only he had never put on that Nervegear. If he had told Ned that maybe they should wait until the next round of production of SAO to get into the game, let them get the bugs worked out.

Except…

The door opened, and in came Mr. Stark and two plates of whatever today’s special was downstairs.

“They were pretty busy down there, so I just brought it up myself. Figured I’d listen in on a pub talk a minute and see if any news has been circulating,” Mr. Stark said, setting down the plates.

“Did you hear anything interesting?” asked Peter.

“Not much. But one group did mention that there were some rumors floating around about a Log-Out point in a forest west of the Town of Beginnings. No one going in has come out alive though, and the Rat has been trying to get word out that the information is false and didn’t come from her,” said Mr. Stark, sitting in the chair opposite.

“Ugh, that sucks,” said Peter. “What’s the point in starting a rumor like that anyway?”

“Some people get their kicks in screwed up ways, kid. It’s as simple as that.”

The lapsed into silence as they ate their meal. But eventually Peter noticed Mr. Stark looking up at him.

“What?” asked Peter.

“Wanna talk about it?”

Peter swallowed and shook his head, “Not much to talk about. Was just thinking about Aunt May.”

Mr. Stark nodded, “I’m not going to say she’s doing fine, because we both know that’s probably a lie. But I will say that she’s a strong woman, and I know as soon as we get out of here she will be right there waiting for you with some awful attempt at baked food and the world’s longest hug.”

Peter gave a laugh as tears began to spring up again.

“You’re definitely right. Thanks, Mr. Stark.”

“Look kid,” said Mr. Stark with a sigh. “I know you enjoy watching me squirm, but I would really appreciate it if you would switch to just ‘Tony.’ For one thing, there’s millions of Tonys in the world, but with the right info out there the name ‘Mr. Stark’ might become a bit suspicious eventually. We’ve just been calling me by my user name outside of our room, and that’s worked out alright, but eventually you might slip. And given my track record on secret identities, we should probably do everything possible to avoid scrutiny as long as possible.”

“Dude, you never had a secret identity. As soon as Iron Man became a thing you outed yourself on live television,” said Peter with a caustic tone.

“Whatever, my point still stands,” said Mr. Stark, waving off Peter’s remark.

“Does it though?”

“Yes, please, please start calling me Tony.”

“It really bugs you, doesn’t it?” asked Peter with a laugh. “Why?”

Honestly, when he asked he had expected Mr. Stark to blow off the question and change the subject. Because in the real world— back before the Decimation— every time they’d had this conversation and he had asked, that was ultimately what Mr. Stark did.

This time however, a tense silence met his question.

“Growing up, Howard was always ‘Mr. Stark.’”

There was a pause, as if he was unsure whether to continue, or how.

“Pretty much everyone on earth calls me ‘Mr. Stark.’ And that’s who they see— billionaire, playboy, philanthropist, wanna-be hero, narcissist, hedonist. That’s by design. It’s what everyone expected from me—being my father’s son— and I rose to the occasion. There’s only a handful of people who have gotten past ‘Mr. Stark’ and made it to ‘Tony.’ At this point, I’d like to think you’re one of them who has.”

Peter sat in quiet shock. Then slowly his heart filled up to the brim with something warm and sad, until he felt he could have burst.

There were a million things he felt, and only a few he could say. But only one he felt needed to be said right then.

“Ok… Tony. But I don’t want to hear you call yourself a wanna-be hero again. Because you are a hero. To everyone… but especially me.”

Tony didn’t reply for a moment, but eventually settled on a nod.

“Alright, deal,” Tony finally said, turning back to his food.

The got a few more bites in before Tony spoke again.

“I’m thinking of skipping on meals for a while. I’m kinda curious how long it takes to actually start feeling hungry in here.”

Peter looked at him confused, “What do you mean? You haven’t been hungry? Like at all?”

Tony blinked at him, “No, you mean you have?”

“Uh, yeah… several times a day usually.”

“Huh… maybe its because of your real world metabolism bleeding through. But no, haven’t felt it at all yet. Seems like a waste of Cor for me to buy meals if I haven’t actually been hungry,” said Tony, finishing up the last bite of his roast. “Not to say that its a wasted experience. They did a pretty remarkable job on this coding. But it would probably be better to save what money we can for now.”

Peter nodded, turning back to his own plate, but could only bring himself to push the food around a little, his stomach suddenly a bit queasy. Perhaps Tony was right, and it was just because of his RL body needs…

He’d talk to a few other players about their experience. Just to be sure.

“So, ‘Anneal Blade,’ huh?” said Tony, looking over the sword still laying on the table. He brought up its specs to analyze.

“Yeah, not exactly sure what the name is about. I mean, I know about the annealing process in biochemistry. I studied it a bit after the spider bite. But not sure how that would really apply to a sword,” said Peter.

“It was originally a process to remove impurities and harden iron for weapons. That’s where scientists originally pulled the term from that they used for the DNA process,” said Tony offhand, still reading through the sword’s numbers and looking it over in his hands. “The sword is as good as the guide implied. It should definitely hold up for you for a good while. Especially once I can start enhancements on it. Looks like we can attempt up to eight.”

“Does that mean we need to put a blacksmith’s forge on the shortlist?” asked Peter.

“Nah, I still have a few levels before we need to worry about that. Still, like I said, it is probably a good idea to start pinching pennies where we can. Jesus, I haven’t had to save money since that time my old man cut me off for a while back in college. This sucks.”

“Welcome to how the other 99.9% live,” said Peter, not an ounce of sympathy in his voice.

Tony shrugged, “Karma is definitely a bitch.”

“This isn’t karma. You’re just a spoiled brat.”

Tony stuck out his tongue, just like the mature adult he was.

Peter laughed, “Exactly. I’m calling it a night. We good to head out in the morning?”

“Yup, heading west from here to grind a bit on some of the higher level forest mobs. We’ll see where we end up after that.”

Peter nodded. Where ever they went and whatever they faced, they would do it together. They’d make it through this.

Even without his spider powers and Tony’s money, they were still Spider-man and Iron Man. Kayaba couldn’t take that away from them.

[kibfpatiyxparagpsiqa]

right. added that, and it’s literally just completely done now.

enjoy.

Danny has to admit, it's fun to hang around as Phantom. Even if it gives people opportunity to shoot at him, walking places just doesn't have the same feel as flying. And it doesn't get everyone to shoot at him. A lot of citizens, young ones especially, just think he's pretty cool. When he isn't invisible, they're the ones most likely to try to talk to him. And unlike, say, the ones who yell, Danny's willing to have a conversation. "Yo, Danny Phantom!" And Danny's over there in seconds, his legs quickly reforming as he stands before them. "Hey."

The person who'd called seems suddenly less willing to talk. Danny's used to people being afraid by now, though it's still weird, but even weirder is the times like now when they aren't afraid but starstruck. Someone else wearing a bandanna around their neck picks up. "Hi. Our friend's in the hospital right now." "Sorry." "Nah, you take more hits than all of us combined. But like, she drew you this thing, to thank you, but she didn't think you'd see it. However, Luke here was gonna show you. Luke, phone." Luke, still tongue-tied, unlocks and hands over his phone. The kid scrolls through the photos on the phone. Recently, the people in town are trying to really show their appreciation for Danny. He thinks it might be because of some recent visitors, one of which Danny found out was a ghost, nonhostile guy who still travelled with is friends. The whole group talked about what it's like for ghosts, how recognition and generosity matter. Danny still has their phone number. The kid finds what they're looking for. Danny holds the phone carefully as he looks at the picture. They're admonishing Luke for his terrible folder structures. It's a really sick picture. If Danny were at all willing to risk his cell number getting out, he'd ask them to text it to him. He really likes the particular pose and lighting, and they got his face exactly right, just like a mirror. Well, mirrors half of the time. But the shapes are the same! He grins at Luke while he hands the phone back. "Dude, that's so sweet! Do you like, think she'd let me see the actual physical one?" Luke has found his voice! "Yeah! Terry would actually love that. It's in her art folder, we brought it to the hospital room... not sure when or if you can visit." "Dude, just tell me when. Flag me down sometime, just, yeah. I'll bring my phone, get my own picture." "Awesome." The two other kids with them, at this point, are still messing around, but noticeably less than they were before he came over. When one notices he might leave, they walk over, and the last friend follows. "Uh, Phantom?" "Yeah?" "Can I get a picture of your logo?" "Sure. Why?" The kid swipes open their phone and he stands on the ground in front of them while they snap a photo. "D, P, oh. Never seen it this close before. Right, I'm making a collage of superheroes, and I thought, wait. I should add a real superhero who lives here! Any preference on who you're next to?" "Depends. Marvel or DC?" "More obscure heroes from both." Danny thinks about it. It's been a while since he's thought about this much. Real superheroics have kind of monopolized his focus for a while now. "Hmm. You got Captain Marvel on there?" "Yeah I do! I mean, she shouldn't be obscure. That's kind of the theme here. Too underrated." Danny nods. "These poor unfortunate souls. But yeah, I love the space origins." "Ha, what planet are you from?" "Not a planet... Aliens are cool, but there's a portal to an actual other dimension in your hometown, which is equally cool and also real." The kid can't refute that. His friend, bored, tries to throw an orange slice at him. He misses, but Danny catches it in his mouth. The formerly-bored friend turns out to be a vicious meanie. "You just can't dodge anything, can you. Are you always trying to eat what your enemies throw at you?" Danny is hurt, truly. He puts his hand over his heart and makes his best wide-eyed expression of sorrow. "Gasp. After all I do for you specifically, eating all those explosive blasts before you can, this is the thanks I get. Throw an orange at yourself, why don't you. Maybe you should practice dodging." The kid throws a whole orange this time, which Danny catches in his hand before peeling. "Oh, delicious inciendiary pain." He debates trying to hit himself in the chest and just grow another mouth there, before realizing that's horrifying. He just eats more orange slices. "So like. Ghosts can eat?" The kid with the bandanna seems curious. Danny shrugs. "I don't know. Ghosts can at least taste." He really doesn't know. Danny isn't quite a ghost. "Do you like to?" "Don't get the chance much. But sure, rather taste sweeter stuff than active plasma." He shoots a look at the orange kid, who has an orange in each hand now. Is that why their pockets are so full? They throw the oranges fast enough he reflexively goes intangible. He hears them hit the road behind him, then salutes the other kids and takes his leave. -----(can anybody tell me how to add lines proper?) It's gotten out really quickly that ghosts can eat. Not a lot of incidents involving that have happened, so Danny blames the sudden awareness everybody has of that on the internet. And a couple people are spreading the word that offerings to spirits are appreciated greatly, Danny's pretty sure those people also follow the web log of those paranormal investigators with the ghost. People have started asking if he'd like to share food they have on hand. Danny feels awkward, because he does already eat food at his own house, because he is alive. But then, the people might do that anyways if they knew that? They're trying to show their appreciation. And it's not like he couldn't just avoid their offers if he wanted, easily! Nobody's exactly chasing him down for this, just asking, when they have opportunities. He really does appreciate it too. Most everything tastes better when it's from someone whose life you've saved, or their wellbeing or family member or just their car. So Danny does usually accept whenever people offer to buy him things, or share what they have. Sure, he eats at home, but then sometimes he's pulled away before he can eat breakfast, or dinner, or anything. When people approach him at those times, he really doesn't even want to argue. So he doesn't.

Some of his older fans make similar offerings, but from meals they made through their own efforts. Those ones are also sweet. He's heard of the taste of victory, but the taste of gratitude is great. Danny likes knowing that people appreciate what he does, however they show it, and this is more convenient than all the cards he has in a locked box in his mattress, along with the other gifts, which he finds harder and harder to hide. He vastly appreciates the art, but his parents wouldn't really get this interest as anything other than suspicious. So the food is a welcome gift, even if returning containers to the right people can be difficult. He likes the sweets, but he actually likes salty things better, and after someone asks him about preferences a lot of people get interested. It's not a large percentage of the population, more those who especially like him and who are interested in cooking and baking, but a lot more people are starting conversations with him as Phantom than ever did before. He feels more appreciated. Some people yell at him because they dislike him, but gifts like these feel more tangible, like they outweigh that, even if people already cheered for him. And again, really convenient if he misses his planned meals. Danny's a fan. ------- Rhys is popping gum across the table while Jill continues talking about the annoyance of spices. Blah blah why does everyone use like no spices blah. Benjamin's late again, but as he dashes in and skids into the booth, the mess that is his clothes says it was probably under extenuating circumstances. "Did you forget your backpack?" Rhys swirls their drink with their straw. "Oh, oh crud it's probably still under there." He puts his head in his hands, and Jill pats his head in sympathy for whatever happened. "It must not have phased with me..." Jill shifts her legs like the restless shark she is. "Phased? There was an attack?" "Seems reasonable. Sure, it wasn't on the news, but at this point that's no surprise. There's barely a consensus on how many there are in a week, but too many to fit with regular news." Rhys sticks their gum to an empty wrapper. "But yeah. Why were you getting phased through anything, Benj?" "Um. Phantom. He saved me, I was caught in a collapse, a building was just. Fell." "Shit Benj, are you okay?" Jill's holding onto Benjamin now, like to keep him safe. "You didn't have to come here, do you need medical attention?" Benjamin shakes his head. "It wasn't dangerous! Just, dusty, and I couldn't get out. I'm glad Phantom heard me, though, my mobile wasn't working." "You sure you're okay Benny?" "Yeah. I think my clothes have it worse than I do. And my poor backpack." "F." Rhys leans against the wall, stretching their feet across the booth's bench. "This probably doesn't do you much of a favor in the long run, though. I mean, you thought that crush was bad before? Phantom just carried you out of a building. Tell me, Benj, did he take you by the hand, was it bridal-style?" "Hey Rhys? Shut up in those blue jeans." "Shut up in those blue jorts." Jill cracks a grin. "Shut up 'cause it's blue Jill." They do a mock-bow toward Jill, before Benjamin keeps talking. "All jokes aside, I really wanna thank him somehow. Uh, Phantom. Do you guys have any ideas? Because I don't think my skills in the area of writing are gonna be much help." "Au contraire Benj, I'm sure it'll be excellent help impressing your new boyfriend." "Shut up, I mean it." Jill looks at Rhys, and Rhys shuts up. "Uh, a bunch of people are like giving him food... Do you think he'd appreciate that? I could help, I kind of want to, you're my friend and I'm glad he saved you." She goes very quiet, like she already thinks it was stupid to even suggest. Rhys shrugs, but is smiling. "Sure, if you think he'll have your taste in extra-spicy." "Okay, I am NOT saying that everything needs to fucking BURN, but SOME PEOPLE are WEAK, and spices are meant to be USED and not in INFINITESIMALS," "Come on Rhys he's a ghost, we could probably put tylotoxin in it and he'd thank us. He'd thank us anyway, because Jill is fantastic at this and her idea was excellent." "Oh, cool. Thanks." Rhys shoots up, their face lighting up. "Oh my god, dudes, we should so totally actually do that though." "UH, it was just an example," "I'm not sure where we would get tylo," Rhys hits their hands on the table. "No, guys. He loves jokes, he loves MORBID jokes, he IS a ghost and he'd totally survive it! And again, he'd think it was so funny. All Benji's idea, of course. I'm so proud of you I could die." "Are you sure it won't do anything?" "I mean, he gets tossed around all the time and heals up quick. And this is *poison*, the type that works on *humans*. And if you're so unsure we can add a non-fatal amount, just in case he wants a kiss after." Benjamin nods slowly. Jill is already on board. "Alright but really, where are we going to get tylotoxin?"

---------- Danny had been liking the recent trend of tangible appreciation, but. Damn it all. He didn't have much right to feel betrayed, since he'd let his guard down. Nobody could have done this before anyway. He'd practically enabled them. He was still feeling pretty freaking angry at whoever had poisoned him. He doesn't know exactly who that was, though, since he's not sure when exactly they did it. -- The night he noticed it, he was just going home in the evening. It had a good chance to be one of those nights with no attacks to present issues, especially given that it was summer. He was walking instead of flying home, mainly out of preference, but started feeling tired enough to change his mind. After getting home and landing in his room, he was all prepared to wait another hour or so for ghostly latecomers, and yet so very, very ready to go to sleep. As soon as he turned human, though, he abruptly doubled over. It was a very abrupt, intense pain, and although he managed to get up when the shock wore off, it showed no signs of lessening. He pushed his shoes off and lied on his bed, grabbing for his phone. He couldn't tell where it was coming from. As he dialed for Tucker, he tried to think about the most recent attack, or the one before that. He didn't remember any wounds. Could it have been poison? "Danny, what's up." "Tucker, hey, uh." Tucker was already sighing over the phone. "You have a problem then?" "Don't know what would give you that idea..." "You always do this, man." His tone made it sound like Danny should know what exactly "this" was. "Besides, I'd hope you aren't calling about anything that could wait at this hour." "Okay fine. ...This hurts, like, a lot." Danny felt very tired, now, and his attempts to sit up weren't doing so hot. "Shit, man. What happened?" "I don't know. I think it's poison, some kind. Started hurting when I got home... When I was human." "What? That's not... Hmmm." Tucker sets his phone down. Probably checking something-or-other. Danny was feeling worse by the second. It hurt a lot, and it hit him that he might want to leave his house. He didn't think he could make it through an interaction with anyone here. Of course, he also felt like he didn't have the energy to get up and leave. Man, at least he wasn't throwing up. But now his head was hurting, and he curled up trying not to make a sound. He noticed he was clutching his phone now, hard, and lightened up before it could crack. Did Tucker say something? Shit, could poison do that? Concussions did that, was it a headache thing? "Uhhhh I wanna go. Your place? Sam's place, going there cool." Danny flipped his phone shut in and instant and slipped into a ghostly form before he even checked the door. Remembering that one second later, he zipped his head around to find it was fortunately shut, with no sign that anyone else at home had seen him. His thoughts already felt clearer, and the pain felt much more muted. Now, being Phantom dulled most of the pain, though there was still an ache in his stomach. Did that mean it was poison he ingested? Who'd have done that? He's still not sure. After flying to Sam's place, he discovered that she was on a video call with Tucker. He's really glad he can count on them. "Sam. Tucker. Sorry Tucker, actually. I don't think I was thinking clearly." He sat on the bed, which appeared to be different than the last he saw. Change of scenery, he guessed. "It doesn't hurt so much now, and I can think. It's mostly hurting my stomach now, actually. Did I eat poison?" Sam got him to lie down on her bed, which felt pretty weird considering he was still wearing boots. But he sat up to look at Tucker on the screen, who was talking about what they knew. "Most of your enemies don't use poison. And yeah, Skulker shows up a lot, but he's an outlier, and it's been a while since he was here anyway." "Yeah, 'cause we /totaled/ his suit last time." Danny grinned, and for a brief second so did Tucker. Then he got back to it. "Most poisons wouldn't take that long to affect someone, without /some/ sign. Nothing?" Sam nodded as Tucker spoke, probably out of further poison knowledge. Danny didn't think so. Skulker was about a week or two ago, by now? "No. I mean, I felt tired before flying home, but that was still only today." Sam jumped on his words. "Like, abnormally tired? Is this another symptom?" "It could be. I think it also stopped when I went ghost, too, so there's another point." They listened to Tucker adding that detail to his notes, before Sam looked out the window, furrowing her brow. "The thing is, it's obviously a human poison, if that's true. Which could still be a ghostly enemy, but if you can get out of it so easily then what's the point? Especially since other stuff, like sickness, leaves quicker, when your temperature doesn't already repel them." Danny frowned. "Did someone try to poison me? Human me? Why would someone do that?" "I don't know! Who'd hate you enough for that, most people just don't really care! The only person who comes to mind is Vlad, which seems unlikely." "Yeah, pretty sure he still needs me alive for some reason or another." Even with the cloning efforts, Danny 1.0 wasn't obsolete yet. Sam walked to the other side of the room, to a table. It was a very small table, but as Sam lifted the edge of the long tablecloth, she grabbed a large bag from beneath. She returned with this in hand, her first-aid kit showing from within. "We're hoping it will help if we can tell what kind of poison it is. Might at least give us an idea of where to look." Danny grimaced, but nodded. "Yeah okay, alright, should probably switch back for that? Yeah." Before his friends could protest, he flipped forms to his human self. Danny immediately was forced to lie completely down, without the energy to continue sitting. "Urrrrrr." The pain hit once more at the same time. Was it worse than before? He closed his eyes tightly. "Danny! Damn it. Okay, his breathing is really fast." As she turned toward him, her voice sounded louder. He tried to focus on what she said. "We'll try to get through this quickly, but just turn back if you need to, alright?" He didn't respond. "Alright, temperature. Tucker, you're recording all this, yeah?" After Tucker presumably confirmed, Danny felt something press across his forehead. "Oh, man. Feels way too warm. I'm not liking this..." Tucker's voice from behind Sam said something Danny couldn't make out. It was probably bad. "Okay," Sam said, and Danny couldn't hear the rest. Then something poked his arm, right on the wrist. He opened his eyes, to find he was in Sam's room. She was holding his hand, and he wanted to ask about that, but he couldn't seem to. She seemed to be getting upset about something. He closed his eyes again. It felt like only a second before he managed to open them again. He tilted his head to the side to see what was up, but there was a curtain in the way. Apparently Sam's new bed had curtains on it. He moved to shift them out of the way, and found Sam sitting at her computer, frowning. "Hey, I think the poison went away. It doesn't hurt anymore." She turned around in her chair with wide eyes, before remembering he was weird and partially relaxing. "Are you sure, Danny? That was fast." "I'm thinking pretty clearly, so yeah. Not sure I remember all of that, but yeah." Sam seemed skeptical. "How did you just get the poison out of your body?" Danny shrugged. "Ghost stuff? I dunno, I'm willing to blame it on my good old fighting /spirit/." He smiled at her, but she didn't seem convinced. "Let me try something." Sam got up and walked to stand by where he was lying. "I'm not so sure it's over, but this should test whether it's done." Before Danny could say a word, she'd grabbed his arm and given it a scratch with her nails. "Hey!" he had to shout, touching where she'd clawed. Looking at it, it wasn't bleeding, but some skin was torn. Then Danny realized it didn't hurt. Sam looked at him and raised an eyebrow. "Nothing? Probably not quite over, then. Besides, you were only out for a few minutes after your heart stopped, and I doubt all of the poison left your system in that time." "Guess it hasn't given up the ghost, then. But I won't either. I must be thinking with my core right now, which explains why I'm not feeling it. I hope it gets out soon, or else it's going to suck when my brain comes back online. Or worse, my nerves." It did get worse. Even despite the fact he didn't feel the tiredness as a ghost, he couldn't manage to get anything done, since at any point another function, with its associated pain sensors, could come back. He had to stay at Sam's the whole week, and as his human form started working with the rest again, even getting to a different room of the house was an effort. Worse still was when his brain activity did return, and he wished it didn't, because this time it didn't stop his heart. He just had to stay that way, in extreme pain, waiting for it to be over and getting annoyed by how hard it was to focus on anything. By the end of it, he was outright wishing for another illness or poison he could just vomit out. ------- He still doesn't know who did it. Not exactly. But he's figured it out. It must have been someone who gave him food. It must have been someone who doesn't know human poison doesn't work on ghosts, because anyone who knows he's a halfa is unlikely to be involved. And now he's just cursing himself for trusting anybody like that. The worst week of his life, that must have been. After all, the second worst week featured a /fast/ and painful death. ------- Luke's been trying to get Phantom's attention again for ages now, with Terry out of the hospital. After disappearing, the hero has been more reclusive, less willing to talk to people. He hasn't been accepting gifts, anymore, but he'd said he'd like to see Terry's work! His friends eventually convince him to give it up. Phantom doesn't want to talk, right now. ------- What happened to Phantom? He's shown a definite change in behaviour, talking less to civilians. He's declined all offerings since his disappearance. The first time he was seen in a week, he moved differently, almost as if he hadn't moved in a while. Hypothesis: He's been trapped within some place in the Ghost Zone, immobile, and interdimensional time dilation made it a longer stay than we've experienced. He's having trouble acclimating back to Amity. ------- They haven't talked about what they did. Not while Phantom stayed out of commission, the whole week. And not for another week, as the fallout of whatever happened became clear. As it became clear the blame was on them. But Benjamin's guilty conscience wouldn't let him keep silent forever, even if he was afraid to say it very loud. "I wish I hadn't gone to that stupid first-person workshop. Wish we hadn't gotten attacked, and I wish he never freaking pulled me out." He glares into his cup. "Benny, it's not your fault." Jill says, probably about to say something 'helpful'. But Benjamin starts first, and it might not /help/ but it feels just a bit better to blame someone else. "Of course not, I'm not the one who thought it was a /good/ idea to poison a hero." Rhys, previously silent, meets every challenge at equal measure. "Oh, yeah, because it was so stupid. I was totally right, if any one of us /bothered/ to check whether poison affects stupid ghosts. Or said something! You could have /told/ your little boyfriend the secret ingredient wasn't exactly love. Bet he'd know if this could be excused under 'love & war'." "Like you know one thing about love, you black widow. Do /you/ poison everyone you date? It wasn't my /idea/ to make him sick, I was grateful!" "So was I Benj! I'm so glad you're here with me it hurts, and I just thought surely, someone as dead as I am inside would appreciate a joke, but the joke fell flat. It fucked him up. I fucked up, yeah!" And everything's quiet a minute. Benjamin drinks his odd choice in summer beverage, and finds that it's cooled down some. Jill speaks up, quietly. "I poisoned somebody." Sitting sideways in the booth, she curls in on herself, upset. "Jill, no, it wasn't your idea, it was mine. Rhys lifts their sunglasses off. "I'm the one who actually seriously meant that." "I cook and I poisoned somebody. What am I gonna do?" Benjamin tries to offer her a back pat, but her legs are in the way. He pats her knees instead. "You didn't know it would poison him. You had every reason to think it would be fine." "Isn't there a rule or something that says you're not allowed to cook anymore if you poison somebody?" "That's a negligence thing though. Or incompetence. Definitely doesn't count if we gave you wrong information." Jill sips her drink through the straw, ignoring the whipped cream on top. A bad sign. "I never want to do that again." "What- Jill, you love to cook! You passionately rant about spices and-" "I mean the poisoning." "Oh, yeah, totally. Don't do that." -------- Danny Fenton doesn't know every person in this city, but he feels like he's at least seen most of them. Even if he's never talked to them, he's probably indirectly saved their life at some point. The ones he's least directly saved tend to hate him the most. Yet sometimes, even people he doesn't recognize will show him kindness. Danny likes feeling appreciated, more than even as much shouting as his detractors do can take from him. He'll talk to people again, and not just to save them. He'll trust people again, even if it's hard right now. And maybe, years later, he'll be able to hear the true story and laugh. But for now, Danny needs to think.

[softschnappi]

Welcome to Derry!

Word count: 2.6k

Warnings: swearing?

Based off of this headcanon of mine!

A/N: AAIIEEEEEE this is FINALLY done after a whole YEAR! I am so proud of this idea and I think it’s the best one I’ve come up with and I don’t even know where I came up with it like I just randomly pulled it out of my ass and it kinda blew up?? And BRUH I think it - unfortunately - fits perfectly with the canon ending in ST3 so I did end up changing some stuff from the original plan…hope you enjoy!

“Shit,“ Jonathan muttered under his breath.

Will sighed in response and leaned his head against the car window. It was pitch black outside and their car was the only one on the road which was surrounded by tall, ominous, swaying trees and bushes. 

Jonathan had been driving his car with Will accompanying him in the passenger seat across the country to Maine, following behind his mother and El in a big Uhaul truck that held all of their belongings for the new house. They had been on the road for a few days, stopping at restaurants and drive-thrus along the way. All was going well and they were almost at the new house until a car cut in front of Jonathan on the highway and he couldn’t see what exit his mother took. All he knew was that the truck was nowhere to be seen.

After an hour of driving around it started to get dark and Will started to worry that they were really lost. They had no way of contacting Joyce other than to ask for a phone at a gas station and call the new house, but they weren’t even sure if she and El had even arrived yet. They were both equally horrible at reading maps. The one thing they were sure of was that they were definitely in Maine since they passed the Welcome to Maine! sign a while ago. So they tried their hardest to read the state map of Maine and of some of the towns they passed, but Will knew they were lost after neither of them could figure out the map and he tried to get Jonathan to admit it but he wouldn’t. However, after driving around in the dark in the middle of nowhere for twenty more minutes, he caved.

“I told you we were lost,” Will rolled his eyes and continued to stare out of the window. It was really dark on the road. Too dark. Way too dark. 

Jonathan sighed and put his hand on Will’s shoulder. “Fine, we’re lost. We tried everything we could, but don’t worry-”

“Don’t worry?” Will scoffed and glared at his older brother. “We’re lost in a state we’ve never been to in the middle of nowhere at night and we have no way of contacting mom. Even El couldn’t get a clue of where we are because she lost her powers.” He turned away and looked back out the window, hiking his feet up onto the seat and pulling his knees to his chest.

“Will, calm down. I’m sure there’s like a gas station around here somewhere,” Jonathan assured him. “We can get directions there and everything will be fine.” He desperately hoped that what he was saying would be true. 

They kept driving along the road for fifteen more minutes before they saw the first building with bright lights since the sun went down hours ago. Will and Jonathan noticed the gas pumps at the same time and cheered in unison. After four hours of being lost, they were finally going to be on their way home!

“Okay,” Jonathan started as he pulled up to a pump. “While I fill up the gas, you go in and ask for directions. They’ll have to have a map of where we are. I’m counting on you to remember what they say, okay?

Will nodded and opened the door, climbing out. Just as he was about to shut it he turned to Jonathan with a grin. “Let’s just hope they don’t lead us to Florida. Although, haven’t we always wanted to go to Disney?”

“The more time you waste talking the longer we’re stuck here,” Jonathan chuckled and put the gas pump into the car. “Now go.”

The store had all its lights on and Will could hear the faint music playing when he approached the door. He looked through the glass and saw a man with a yellow and black gas station looking uniform sitting at the cash, looking down and writing something. Perfect!

The man looked up at the sound of the chimes clanging when Will opened the door and stepped inside. He had short brown hair that was longer on one side, swooping down and almost covering his right eye. He was tall, lanky, and looked about Will’s age. 

“Hi,” The man whose name tag read Bill greeted. 

Will shuffled to the counter and looked up at him. “Hi there. Um, my brother and I are kinda lost and I was wondering if you could tell us where we are? Oh, and I’m also going to pay for the gas.”

“Well, you-you’re in D-D-Derry, Maine,” Bill stuttered, looking back down at Will and tapping his fingers on the glass that held all of the lottery tickets underneath him. He watched Will silently look away and cheer in victory.

“Great!” Will smiled at him. “So, I was wondering if you know how to get to-”

“I’m sorry, I d-don’t do well w-w-with directions,” Bill apologized, looking down and scratching the back of his head. 

Well, shit. They were so fucked now. Will and Jonathan were going to have to stay the night in the car somewhere and their mom is probably worried to death about them-

Bill must have noticed how deflated Will became after he told him that he wasn’t good with directions because he immediately tried to tell Will that he knew someone else who could help him. He stumbled into the back room and Will heard some bickering between him and another person.

A few moments later, a taller, much more annoyed man appeared behind Bill. Will’s eyes widened and his mouth went dry at the sight of him: curly dark brown hair, brown eyes, big square glasses, soft-looking lips…He almost looked like Mike. Almost. Oh, how he already missed Mike.

But Will quickly forgot about his best friend as he felt his heart racing and his cheeks heat up as the very attractive man’s expression turned from agitated to…interested after he looked Will up and down.

“Scratch that, Big Bill,” The man said with a smile on his face, “No need to pay me. I would be honoured to spend my precious time helping out this lost eye candy.” 

Eye candy? Will almost choked on his own spit at that one. He couldn’t believe that this random hot stranger at the gas station just implied that…no. That couldn’t have been what he meant. No way. No guy ever just hits on another guy like that, especially a stranger in public. Not possible. But regardless, it made Will’s face heat up even more. 

The man stood beside Bill and leaned his elbows on the desk, holding out his arm for Will to shake. “Richie Tozier, at your service,” He greeted Will with a wink. 

Will gulped and tried to calm his nerves as he shook Richie’s hand. Holy fuck, his hands were so soft and his own were so clammy from being so nervous. 

It was kind of embarrassing for Will to be this much of a mess and have been turned into complete mush ever since he laid eyes on Richie. He tried to snap out of it. It wasn’t every day he got an opportunity to speak with a hot guy and he wanted to make the most out of it.

“I’m Will Byers. And my brother and I are lost. The end of our trip is Derry so thank God we’re here, but we need to get to Palmer Lane,” He explained after taking a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. “And we have no idea how to get there.”

Richie reached underneath the desk, much to Bill’s displeasure who kicked him for getting too close. Will now noticed that Bill wasn’t actually writing anything but instead he was drawing. A bunch of birds, specifically, and it was looking really good. But his gaze was torn when Richie stood up and slammed a map on the counter and reached for a highlighter. With a yellow cap between his teeth, he drew three lines on the map and turned it around for Will to see.

“I don’t know what was so difficult about telling him where Palmer Lane is, you fucking wet end,” Richie turned to Bill and said. “Derry is the size of a penny.”

Bill rolled his eyes. “I thought h-he would w-want directions for o-out of town. And watch your language at wuh-work.”

Shaking his head, Richie mumbled something under his breath before turning back to Will. “So.” He started, pointing to a highlighted road on the town map. “This gas station is located on this road, which you need to take,” His finger slid down to the other road. “Until you get to Main Street. You turn onto that and then,” He pointed to a street right of Main Street. “You turn right onto Palmer Lane. Easy peasy lemon squeezy.” 

Will and Richie smiled at each other and Will thanked him. He noticed that Richie had become closer to him than he was before he pulled out the map. Will’s heart was beating fast in his chest as he looked into Richie’s chocolate brown eyes, swearing he saw stars in them, but he looked away quickly in fear of the other noticing that his cheeks were turning pink again.

“Say, I’ve never seen ye ‘round here, bucko,” Richie said to him, his voice suddenly very Irish. “What’re ye doin in a shighthole like Derry?” 

Will chuckled softly at his attempt to speak in an Irish accent. It wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t perfectly on point, either. “I think you need to work on that accent a bit more before it’s perfect,” Will encouraged Richie with a smile. “And I just moved here. Trying to find the new house.”

Richie’s face lit up and a joyous smile spread across his face. “Well, I’ll be,” He said, switching to a Southern accent. “We get a first look at the fresh meat before errybody else!”

“I’m sorry about him,” Bill apologized while shaking his head. He looked just about ready to stab Richie with the pencil in his hand.

Will waved his hand. “No, it’s okay! I mean,” He looked to Richie, shyly. “You’re funny.” 

“You bet your fur I am!” Richie stuck his tongue out at Bill, who rolled his eyes.

Will blinked. “You…bet your fur?”

“Derry slang, my friend. You’ll be hearing plenty more soon enough.”

Will hummed in response before he remembered the other reason why he was in the store. “Oh! I almost forgot to pay for the gas,” Will said as he put fifteen dollars on the counter. “It’s pump-”

“Five,” Bill finished as he entered the money into the register. “Yeah, you’re the o-only one hu-here.” 

Will looked down, feeling embarrassed. “Right.” 

“So, are you going to Derry High in the fall?” Richie asked in his normal voice, pushing his glasses up on his face. 

“Yeah, going into grade eleven.” Will picked up the change and put it into his pocket. When he looked back at Richie, he was still leaning over the counter but now had his elbow on it and his face resting on his hand. Watching as Richie quickly looked him up and down again, Will gulped as he began to rock back and forth on his feet. Richie didn’t even wait until a time when Will wasn’t looking to openly stare at him. Fuck.

“Cool! Me and Bill go there, and all of our friends. The same grade, too,” Richie smiled at Will, tapping his fingers on the counter. “Speaking of which, our friend Mike lives on Palmer Lane. So I’ll probably see you around before school starts!” 

Will one hundred and ten per cent wanted to see Richie again before school started. There was no way he could go a whole month without seeing Richie’s handsome face. Will’s heart started to beat faster in his chest because Richie seemed like he really wanted to see him again. If he went to see his friend Mike then he could drop by the new house and hang out and- oh fuck, Will was already falling for him.

“Yeah!” Will smiled at him. “My place is the one with the moving van outside.” His eyebrows furrowed as he blinked a few times before opening his mouth again. “I just realized I don’t know what my own house even looks like yet,” He laughed. 

Richie chuckled and looked back down at the map displayed in front of them. “Well, speaking of home, you better get on your way, buttercup. It’s almost 1am, and you don’t want ol’ Bob Gray coming to eat your toes and take your money.”

Will didn’t hear anything he said past “Buttercup.” His eyes were wide and his mouth was suddenly dry. Richie just…called him…Buttercup. Buttercup. Although he didn’t want to get ahead of himself, his brain automatically registered everything that had happened ever since he walked in the store as flirting. Richie, a super handsome guy he just met, was flirting with him. Him. Will could feel his whole face heating up again, getting hotter than it’s ever been before and he probably looked like a tomato.

Richie was scribbling something down on the map with a pen before he closed it up and handed it to Will. 

“Did you just call me buttercup?” He wanted to make sure he had heard him right.

Richie blinked. “Yes. Because, y’ know, your hair. You look like a Reece’s cup. I didn’t mean for it to be insulting-”

“You didn’t insult me,” Will shook his head. “It’s just nobody’s ever called me that before,” He smiled up at Richie and took the map. “Do you call all your customers candy-related names?” He asked, remembering how Richie had called him eye candy at the beginning.

“Nope,” Richie said, popping the p. “Just you, buttercup.” 

“Oh,” Will whispered, beaming. Then he did something he’d never done before: he put his hair behind his ear. Isn’t that something girls did when they talked to a guy? Will had no idea why he did that, but there was no time to worry over it. He’d just remembered that Jonathan was waiting for him in the car and they needed to get to the new house.

“Well I think you’re right, I better be on my way home,” Will said as he stepped away from the counter. He didn’t want to leave, but he knew he had to. “It was nice to meet both of you! Thanks for the directions, Richie.” 

Richie waved at him and even Bill looked up from his drawing to tell Will to come back again.

“See you soon, Will,” Richie smiled at him. “Twas nice chatting with you! Watch out fur the hobos!” He added in his Irish accent. 

Chuckling, Will walked over to the door. “Have a good night!” He shouted as he walked out of the store, looking at the ground and trying to hide the huge grin on his face. He hadn’t even got to the new house yet and he already made a friend. He thanked whatever Gods there were that he was able to run into such a handsome guy like Richie and have him - maybe - take some sort of interest in him. Oh, he was so handsome. Will kept thinking about Richie’s curls, the freckles on his face, and his chocolate brown eyes as he made his way to the car. 

“Got the directions?” Jonathan asked as Will climbed into the passenger seat of the car.

Will opened the map and was drawn to the writing in the top right corner:

Derry Gas: 207-396-7289

Richie Tozier: 207-826-2591 

☺

“Yeah,” Will smiled as he felt his heart rate speed up once again. “I got them.”

Maybe Derry wasn’t going to be so bad after all.

[eveningstarfarms]

Stardewinter 2019!

A day later than I would’ve preferred but I got dragged out and didn’t get back until late last night so sorry about that! But my gift is for @stardewforest​! I had blast writing this out, I’m just a sucker for Shane and his shyness when it comes to things like feelings. I also want to think @stardewevents​ for letting me participate in this wonderful event! Gift down below:

He desperately didn't want to fuck this up.

It had been almost a year since the new farmer, Mieko, had come to Pelican town and almost a year since she had stepped into Shane's life and changed everything for the better.

He was on a steady streak of sobriety going on for a while now, and the therapy sessions over in Zuzu were going well. Shane was feeling the best he's ever felt in years, and he was truly grateful towards Mieko because of it.

The winter season is one dedicated to gift-giving and together, wasn't it? Even if most of the time Shane found himself playing the scrooge when the holidays rolled around, that didn't mean he always had to. This year he'll play nice, as thanks.

That's what he told himself to make him feel better when he found himself on Mieko's doorstep, a bag of gifts at his hip. Nothing unusual, just some things he remembered Mieko liked, a necklace Jas made and was very adamant about him giving to her, and… a bouquet he picked up at Pierre's. It was the only thing keeping his in a state of hesitation, he'd be lying if he said he regretted buying it.

It wasn't that his feelings weren't genuine, he was scared that Mieko didn't feel the same way. Sure, she could feel for him what he does for her, but she could also not, and he couldn't exactly blame her in that case. When they first met he was a rude jackass with a drinking problem, who'd get feelings for someone like that?

Yoba, he really didn't want to mess this up. 

He'd gladly take being friends and pining after her like a nerd over him being honest and potentially damaging their friendship beyond repair.

It's too bad that fate wouldn't let him chicken out of his mess this time.

"Shane?"

He was startled out of his thoughts by the sound of someone else's voice and he realized that the door to the farmhouse was wide open and a familiar face was standing in its place.

Shane never felt his stomach drop so low nor his heart jump so high into his throat before.

"H-Hey, Mieko! Uh-" He stammered lightly, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. Yoba, he's too much of a nervous wreck for all of this. "I wasn't your secret friend for the festival yesterday, and Jas, Marnie, and I still wanted to get you something, as thanks for everything you've done for us." The 'for me' goes unsaid, not that he had to, it just rendered him several types of embarrassed to even think of saying it. He held up the bag, holding it out to her warily. "Here."

Woefully, he watched as Mieko took the bag and set it aside, the physical confession unseen, at least for now. She smiled at him, and somehow that eased his anxieties somewhat. She wouldn't react badly, even if some feelings weren't mutual.

"That's so sweet of you all! Thank you."

Shane gave a curt nod, swallowing thickly. He was still so nervous, despite it all. "Don't mention it… I, ah, should get back to the ranch. Almost feeding time for the girls, but y'know, the door's always open for you if you want to drop by and hang out." He spoke quickly, noting how he could see the tail of a little possum wagging outside of the bag. Hopefully, Kusa would turn the flowers into a nice snack before his owner could see.

"Definitely! I love hanging out with you and Jas, I'll come by later today after I finish my chores, sounds good?"

That was too soon for his likings, way too soon, but it's not like he can tell her no, look at that face! He just nodded again, plastering a nervous smile on his face. "Yeah, sounds good. I'll just, ah… get going. I promised Jas I'd make pancakes with her, she'll throw a fit if I'm not there when she wakes up." Partly true, he did have to do that, but Jas was already awake and was fully aware of what he was doing, he just needed an excuse to leave before he had a heart attack on Mieko's doorstep. "So I'll uh… see you later, I guess."

"See you later, Shane!"

They exchange farewells and Shane hightailed it back to the ranch, his heart pounding in his ears as he dashed inside. It didn't help that there were two expectant, awaiting faces watching him as he stood pressed against the front door. Better get that dealt with as soon as possible.

"She didn't see it yet."

"Shane!"

"She has it!" The reassurance didn't stop Marnie from pinching his cheek and scolding him for dragging his feet as much as possible. Yoba, he wished he was dragging his feet, but there was no turning back now.

He was equal parts relieved to have the hard part over and dreading the visit later, but he couldn't say that he regretted it entirely anymore, just very anxious about the aftermath. No matter the turnout, he was sure it would be fine.

His assurance wavered the closer it got to the time Mieko was finished with her chores on the farm and went to roam around town. He felt that similar anxiousness set in whenever someone knocked on the door, only to let out a sightly panicked sigh of relief when it turned out to be just Lewis coming along to check on the business (read: make goo-goo eyes with Marnie when they think they’re subtle about it) or Penny to drop off something Jas forgot after their last tutoring session. This stress was just as bad as him as his drinking habits, he swore.

He had calmed down enough to not freak out internally at every single visitor that came by, but it didn’t stop him from anxiously fidgeting in his room. He had completely lost track of time until he heard someone out in the hall.

“I-Is Shane home?”

Whether it was on unconscious impulse or his own body growing tired of it all and acting without his permission was debatable but all of a sudden he was on his feet and rushing out, taking Marnie and the current visitor off-guard. “... Hey Mieko.”

The next few minutes were a blur for Shane, but suddenly Marine was gone and the two of them were alone, sitting at the table in the kitchen, enveloped in slightly awkward silence.

“So… that bouquet, huh?”

Ah, the ever-dreaded question. Shane swallowed thickly, nodding lightly. “Yeah, I uh-- Uhm…” Okay, he could do it, he just needed to calm down. It’s okay. Just breath. “I… like you, Mieko. A lot. I’m not too good with words, I probably never will be, but I just had to get that out in the air.” He spoke quietly, keeping his eyes to the table. He didn’t think he’d be able to actually get that out, even then he felt ready to pass out after all of that.

It didn’t help the Mieko was silent for an agonizingly long time before she spoke again. "I’m glad you feel like that!”

… What?

Shane whipped his head up, eyes wide and mouth gaping, a stupified expression on his face that made Mieko herself laugh lightly. “What? I’m not allowed to be happy my crush likes me back?"

For a moment Shane thought that he had misheard her, that it was a trick his brain was playing on him, but as he stared and took in her expression he realized that he had heard her just fine. He collapsed back into his seat, heaving out a heavy sigh. "Yeesh… you had a crush on me?" He asked in near disbelief, letting out a nervous bark of laughter. In hindsight, seeing Mieko roll with it in such a chilled out manner, Shane couldn't help but feel like it was stupid of him to agonize over this for as long as he did. Mieko made it look so easy, he'd give her that. "Why me? I'm not exactly the best choice in Pelican town…"

"Even if that was true you're not the worst either. And besides, you're getting better, aren't you? You're trying, Shane. Anyone could see that." Mieko said as she reached out a hand to gently rest on top of Shane's. "I can see that, so give yourself some more credit."

Shane felt his face heat up at Mieko's words, running his free hand through his hair. "I guess you're right. But, ah..." He trailed off, looking to the side. The question was on the tip of his tongue, but even after everything, he was still much too embarrassed to say anything besides a light, "Us…?"

Mieko laughed again, shaking her head. "Us. I, for one, would love to be able to call you my boyfriend, unless you think that’d give you a heart attack."

That drew a laugh from Shane, one free of nervousness or anxiety, "Yeah, but I think I'd die a happy man if Harvey can't bring me back."

They both laughed and smiled, chatting back and forth for a while until Meiko had to leave to tend to the crops she had forgotten to water after her little 'surprise' in the gifts. Shane was left to think about the day, relishing at the end of it all.

This holiday season was a good one.

The next day, when Mieko opened up her mailbox, she’d find a little note that simply said:

’Thanks for making me so happy. -Shane’

[artemis-entreri]

"Violets are not blue."

Entreri was frowning, but Jarlaxle knew from his friend's raised eyebrow that the human's ill humor was feigned. 

The drow shrugged. "A flawed axiom perhaps, but nonetheless I find it rather endearing."

"You find false equivalencies and failed analogies endearing?" The assassin's thin lips were drawn in a tight line, but amusement danced in his dark eyes. "Has the sharp blade that is Jarlaxle been dulled so much by the passage of time that he finds incompetence amusing?" 

The mercenary simply chuckled, the lyrical sound softening the tight line on the assassin's face. It relaxed into a puzzled frown. "Is the butchering of language where this 'hella' comes from too?"

"Hardly 'butchering', my abbil! To my understanding, it is the slang of the parts whence I learned the word."

"Slang, or, in other words, butchering of proper language."

Jarlaxle folded his arms. It was his turn to frown. "Must you always be so contentious?"

Fully into their role reversal, Entreri laughed. "No, but that would take the fun out things for you, would it not?"

The drow conceded with a nod, the frown lasting as long as it ever did on his handsome features. 

"I'm impressed that you're capable of drafting," came the assassin's voice from behind the card. "A crude imitation, but sufficiently possessing of your characteristic shamelessness. But why did you go through the trouble of all of this--"

Entreri looked up to find the drow tipping a small ornate box at his face.

"Now what?" the assassin asked as he pushed the box down.

Jarlaxle lifted it again. "It's also for you."

Entreri frowned at the item. "Why? What is it?"

Jarlaxle insistently albeit gently shook it in his friend's face. "Open it and see for yourself."

Entreri backed up a step. "And if I do, will I be sprayed by one of your perfumes?"

The mercenary donned a hurt look. "No, of course not."

"A barrage of flower petals it is then, and judging by the card, roses and violets?"

Jarlaxle turned the box towards himself and pushed open the lid, letting out a small and measured sigh. "Truly, you are always so contentiously cautious." 

The assassin chuckled at the ire in his companion's tone. His returning quip, however, was replaced by wonder as his companion turned the box back towards him to present a silk-wrapped object nestled amidst a cushioned interior.

"A magical trinket?" Entreri quirked an eyebrow. "I have no need for such things."

The facade of hurt was back on the mercenary's face. "My abbil, you do wound me so, to believe that after all of our time together, that I'd not know your dislike of magical trinkets!"

Entreri snorted. "Yet you still press them unto me at every opportunity."

"Not so!" Jarlaxle exclaimed. "Why, I assure you right now that this is quite mundane." 

The assassin folded his arms. "Quite mundane, yet wrapped in fine silk and resting in an ornate box."

"Mundane as I would allow from a gift from me to be," the drow returned with a wink. "Please, my dear Artemis, some trust in me?"

Entreri looked suspiciously at the box, then at the card in his hand, and sighed with resignation. The use of only one dexterous hand was sufficient to extract the object from its silken shroud, and the assassin procured a curious tubular object. It was almost as dark as his companion's skin, its shape calling to his mind images of the vases that lined Pasha Pook's shelves. Except this "vase" was sealed and rounded on both ends and lacked the fine brushwork that embellished the late Pasha's collections.

The assassin turned the odd object about in his hands. A muffled rattling met his ears.

"An instrument of some sort?" Entreri's gray eyes were stormy with confusion.

Jarlaxle shook his head. "Chocolate!" he proclaimed proudly.

"Chocolate?" the assassin echoed dubiously. The color of the object was darker than even the purest cocoa-based confection that he'd seen. He lifted it to his nose for a whiff, and found that the scent more closely resembled cocoa... if it had been left burning in the fire for many bells.

"A ridiculous card, and now a poor facsimile of chocolate... what's this about, Jarlaxle?"

The drow grandly swept both arms out, the elaborate gesture causing Entreri to groan to himself. He knew immediately that his companion had been waiting for this exact moment to tell his tale. Briefly, the assassin considered dragging a hand down his visage, turning and walking away, even clamping a hand over the mercenary's mouth. In the end however, he simply dropped into a crossed-leg sitting position.

Jarlaxle blinked at the expectant gray gaze staring up at him. The lack of the expected resistance put him at an uncharacteristic loss of words, but only momentarily. Grinning wide, he touched one hand to his chest, the other one performing a flurry to the east, as though it were a bird taking flight. 

"I happened upon an exotic traveler--" 

The word "exotic" drew an audible groan from Entreri, which only widened Jarlaxle's grin. 

"He wore a most magnificent long coat, red as a cardinal's breast, and the thick furs lining his hat and boots suggested that he'd traveled from cold lands afar. I'd never seen any fashions quite like what he donned in the Frozenfar, so I surmised he must've come from elsewhere perhaps even beyond Vaasa!" 

The mention of the Cold Lands sharpened the glare fixated on the demonstrative drow dangerously.

However, Jarlaxle, long used to his friend's steel and flint, was hardly affected. 

"I do believe he was a priest of some sort--" He thought he felt a blade's edge tickle his skin. "--but the poor fellow was most out of sorts! He continually spoke of a lost signal, and asked me to lend him my fane so that he could contact his fellows."

"You should've taken him to Menzoberranzan," Entreri remarked dryly.

Jarlaxle chuckled. "Nay, it was all I could do to convince him that I had no such thing, he must've been a very devout follower of the gods, for truly it seemed incomprehensible to him that persons without a place of worship might exist He all but insisted that I must have a 'cell fane', which does suggest a rather ascetic devotion to worship!"

"Truly a shame that you didn't introduce him to the Priestesses of Lolth."

"The poor fellow looked as though he was about to break down and cry!"

"And Jarlaxle's heart is so big that he most certainly could not endure the sight of a strange man crying." 

"Exactly!" Jarlaxle nodded heartily. "Truly, it would not befit my conscience to leave him so! I gathered that he came from a very idyllic place, fields of green moss upon which plump cows grazed, in a faraway land untainted by greedy nobles and demon lords. I think I would very much like to see such a place one day."

Entreri emphatically cleared his throat. He guided the drow's gaze with his own down at his index finger tapping against his leg. 

Jarlaxle took the cue, but his talking speed did not increase.. "I guided him to the nearest town, whereupon I personally secured him a hot meal and a bed for the night. He was loathe to let me go, but I insisted that I must, for I was meeting one whom I so greatly cherished--"

"Which is why you're a day late."

"Desperate to keep me by his side, he regaled me with riveting tales," the mercenary spoke over the assassin as if the human hadn't vocalized at all. "Apparently, he was a scholar, one with a great deal of interest and knowledge of various societies and cultures. He told me about a custom from his land, a major holiday that occurs around this time every year by the name of 'Valiant Time', which apparently entails poetry containing what you described as 'false equivalencies and failed analogies', and the gifting of chocolate."

"I can see why you became so enamored of it." The assassin's finger stopped tapping, his hand lifting to rub his forehead. It fell away after failing to ease the skepticism written in the lines of his angular features. "Let me guess, he then instructed you in making this card, and gave you this chocolate to give to me."

"Exactly so!" Jarlaxle's exclamation caused Entreri's eyes to boggle. 

"Why would a man that you'd just met expend so much effort?"

"Why would a man that he'd just met personally escort him to safety, then buy him dinner and a room?"

"Perhaps so that the opportunistic drow would have a bed to share."

Jarlaxle looked hurt again.

"Oh, I'm sorry, was he not attractive enough for you?"

Actual pain crept into the ruby eyes, stabbing the assassin's heart with a pang of guilt. It deepened when he happened to catch sight of the card out of the corners of his eyes.

"My thanks," Entreri gruffly mumbled and bit into the tubular object. The mouthful fell to pieces easily enough between his teeth, and although he waited, rolling each bit around his tongue, he found no trace of sweetness or even bitterness. Rather, the whole thing tasted quite bland whilst filling his nostrils with the scent of burning. Unwittingly, a memory came to him, of sitting by a campfire in the Shadowfell. The rations he had tasted of char and dust, a flavor not unlike what was currently in his mouth. 

Overall, it was an unpleasant sensation that elicited unpleasant memories. The one positive that came from it, the assassin noted, was that his companion's expression lighted up again.

Entreri turned the "chocolate" about in his hands. He ran his sensitive fingertips along its surface, trying to find some semblance of a familiar silky texture or equally familiar but different coarse texture. The item's surface was more akin to the latter, but rather than the roughness of a cocoa mixture, it felt more like grains of sand. He sniffed it again. It didn't smell bad, but it didn't carry the indulgent richness or sweetness that he'd come to enjoy. Rather, it smelled like charcoal.

"Is it not good?" The drow's cheery expression began falling into dejected concern. Entreri forced himself to swallow and tried to smile, but instead all he could do was grimace. "It isn't the best I've had," he admitted.

Jarlaxle plopped down before him and tilted his head. Entreri lowered his head to wipe his tongue on his sleeve, but in doing so, caught sight of the card again. Jaw setting with resolution, he bit off another piece of the terrible confection.

"Is it any better?" The drow's posture was a feline ready to pounce. Entreri forced himself to chew, grinding the pieces between his tongue and the roof of his mouth in an attempt to dissolve them. All that he'd succeeded in doing was coating his teeth in particles, a sensation not unlike having sand in his mouth.

"I feel like I'm eating something from a potter's kiln," Entreri finally relented. Nonetheless, he stubbornly swallowed his mouthful.

The mercenary held out a hand, into which the assassin placed the hollow cylindrical object. It was missing most of a formerly sealed end, which the assassin had eaten. Both white eyebrows knitted together as Jarlaxle squinted into the darkness of the tube. 

"Wait, there's something inside..." 

Entreri remembered the rattling he'd heard as two lithe fingers reached into the tube extracted flat object. Both companions leaned in close to see.

"A horse?" The two voices pronounced in unison.

Jarlaxle didn't resist as Entreri took the small image from him. "Is this another custom of this 'Valiant Times' holiday?" the assassin asked quizzically.

The drow's gaze was distant. The perplexed human waved a hand before the ruby eyes.

"I don't recall anything about a horse..." Jarlaxle's voice was uncertain.

"Why would he give it to you without telling you about what was inside?"

The drow didn't immediately answer. In that short pause, Entreri imagined that he could hear the gears spinning in his companion's head. Before any formulations had a chance to solidify, a swarthy hand shot out and held fast to one slender ebony wrist. Jarlaxle's smile faltered.

Entreri brandished the "chocolate" at Jarlaxle in the same manner that he'd brandish his jeweled dagger. "What did he say about this?" each of the assassin's words were punctuated with threat.

"Ah..." Jarlaxle stammered. Entreri's frigid gaze chilled him. 

"He... didn't"

"He didn't?!"

Jarlaxle patted the air with his one free hand. "Peace, my abbil, I beg--"

"What do you mean, he didn't? You said that he gave you this to give to me, was that false?"

Jarlaxle didn't respond. Entreri's face darkened, and he pulled away from his companion. Understanding immediately, Jarlaxle exclaimed, "NO! No, worry not dear Artemis, I would never allow any harm to come to you. I've expended three charges of my Wand of Purify Food and Drink upon this, when one charge would've been sufficient. I can assure you with full confidence that it won't hurt you."

The assassin continued to glare at the mercenary. 

"Fine, if you won't believe me--" Jarlaxle reached for the tube. Entreri pulled it out of his reach. The drow blinked with surprise and looked up at the human, relieved to find that his companion’s dark eyes were clearer despite the severe expression that still lingered on his face.

"I would not just feed you anything, my abbil," the mercenary dared.

"Yet, you'd still lie to me about the nature of that which you fed me."

Jarlaxle sighed and nodded.

"So he did not wish to give this to me?"

The drow shook his head. "He did not wish it to give it at all, or rather, he isn't aware that he'd given it."

Comprehension dawned on the assassin. "You took the opportunity to relieve the man of his possessions." 

"Artemis Entreri disapproves of opportunistic acquisitions?" "Artemis Entreri disapproves of feeding opportunistic acquisitions that have not been properly identified to him," the chagrined human snapped back.

Jarlaxle's shoulders fell. "I believed I knew what it was. We spoke of Valiant Times until long past the sun dipped beneath the horizon. His accent was quite difficult to follow, why, at times I doubted he was even speaking Common--"

"You have a trinket that allows you to understand any language."  

"And I was using it! But he must've possessed magic of his own, countering magic, perhaps a reward from his god to a loyal servant!" Jarlaxle sighed again. "Alas, that divine magic did not protect his sobriety."

"And no deity can protect Jarlaxle's sanity when he becomes too enamored with an idea."

Jarlaxle conceded with a sad nod.

Entreri's attention returned to the object in his palms. "Have you tried using identification magic on it?"

The drow held up both hands helplessly. "Such magic only serves to unravel the mystery of an unknown enchantment, or reveal the nature of the enchantment upon an item. All that my investigations told me was that this item is very much not enchanted."

The assassin looked up with a quirked eyebrow. "So you did investigate it?"

Jarlaxle's arms folded again. "Of course." 

Entreri chuckled at the crossness in his companion's tone. "What led you to believe that it's chocolate? he asked, much of the steel gone from his tone.

Jarlaxle shrugged. "It was the only logical conclusion."

Entreri waved for the drow to continue.

"As I've told you, my abbil, we spoke at great length about the nature of the holiday. It is customary during this holiday to bear gifts of the finest chocolates, enclosed within elaborate containers. When I saw this box, I knew it immediately to be one such container, and my suspicion was confirmed when I glanced inside--"

"Glanced inside?" Entreri stopped Jarlaxle.

Jarlaxle nodded.

"It could've just as easily been a blade, a gem, or a piece of jewelry, wrapped within the silk. Why would you believe that it was chocolate?"

Jarlaxle brought one hand to rub the back of his neck.

Entreri let out an exasperated sigh and shook his head. "Are you always in the habit of opening the gifts that you intend for others?"

Jarlaxle began to respond, but a sudden noise froze both companions. Another noise spurred them to their feet, one blade in each of the assassin's hands and a throwing dagger poised to fly between the mercenary's fingertips. The two waited in total silence for countless heartbeats when, finally, they were rewarded with a sight that hardly justified their preparedness. Out from the nearby brush stumbled a disoriented human, messy light brown hair matching rumpled and mud-splattered clothing. His eyes brightened upon seeing the two figures, but then immediately, they widened, and so, too, did his mouth.

"YOU!!!" the disheveled man pointed at Jarlaxle as he howled and charged. 

Entreri began to move forward, but the bedraggled man didn't take half a score of steps before falling flat onto his face. 

The assassin and the mercenary stood still for many more breaths, waiting for the strange man to right himself. Instead of moving however, muffled sobs rang out from his still form. Entreri looked quizzically at Jarlaxle, and saw embarrassment in the deep red eyes that gazed back at him.

"He seems to have business with you," Entreri stated.

"Perhaps." Jarlaxle made no move to approach the prone man. 

The assassin studied the mercenary quietly, all the while Jarlaxle was staring at the sobbing form, discomfort in his expression. The faintest twitch caught Entreri's keen gaze, and he looked down to see the drow surreptitiously move the image of the horse behind his back.  

"Let us be away then," Entreri casually suggested.

Jarlaxle roused immediately and beamed. "A splendid idea!" he declared, wheeling on one heel while throwing the other leg out before him, his arms beginning to swing in pace--

But the assassin wasn't beside him. Gone, too was the small horse image in his fingers.

"Artemis?" Jarlaxle managed, his heart sinking as low as it could go when he saw that the assassin was already at the sobbing man's side. He watched, dumbfounded, as Entreri knelt and with uncharacteristic gentleness, then coaxed the distraught man up to his knees.

Even his keen elven ears couldn't discern the words that they exchanged, and he knew that such was the assassin's intention. No small measure of him willed him to turn and bolt away, especially when he saw the barely perceptible tensing of Entreri's shoulders, and knew immediately that the assassin had found the truth. However the dread that fixed him to the spot increased evermore in weight as he watched his friend hand the dirt-covered man the small portrait, then even pat the stranger on the shoulder.

"What is your business with him?" Entreri asked, pointing a thumb over his shoulder back at Jarlaxle.

"Mishka! He stole my Mishka!" wailed the stranger, in an accent quite unlike any that Entreri had heard before. However, "Mishka", which he assumed was a name, did remind him of some of what he'd heard people call one another during his time in Damara.

"What is a Mishka?" Entreri asked, his forehead wrinkled in confusion.

"Mishka is my horse!" the stranger's words were barely comprehensible, especially delivered in between gasps and sobs as they were.

"Not likely. He possesses a steed unlike any, he would have no reason to steal a mundane horse."

"Mishka was my horse," the oddly-dressed man managed to choke out. "I grew up with her, but she died recently."

"He stole your dead horse?" The wrinkles in the assassin's forehead deepened.

The disheveled man began nodding furiously, then shook his head, then nodded again. "After Mishka died, I had her cremated, and her ashes were made into a small memento, so that I could always keep her close by my side."

Entreri had been planning to ask the stranger how he could be certain that Jarlaxle was the thief, but the dawning of a realization, a slow and inexorable one that he wished that he could deny, asserted itself in his mind at the expense of all other thoughts.

"Wait here," the assassin quietly instructed, and the stranger obediently nodded, having mistaken the quiet for gentleness.

Jarlaxle watched with admiration as Entreri smoothly rose, none of his rage evident in his flowing movements. The drow knew that he was smiling, but he also knew how empty his smile was. He imagined that he could see a dense aura of heat around Entreri, as though he still had his infravision before the transformation of magic over time had changed it. Like an unstoppable, slow-motion fireball, Entreri bore towards him, and Jarlaxle could only stand stock-still, stunned by the overbearing pressure.

"Horse ashes," Entreri pronounced in a barely audible whisper.

Jarlaxle could only nod, blank smile still affixed on his face.

"Not chocolate. Horse ashes."

Jarlaxle nodded again.

Entreri procured the "chocolate" that he'd hidden in the folds of his cloak and held it before the mercenary's eyes.

Jarlaxle nodded a third time.

The assassin's arm dropped to his side as his chin dropped against his chest. Jarlaxle stared wordlessly, his face beginning to hurt from his facetious smile. For countless heartbeats, all that passed between them were mild breezes, their gentleness tempered by the bite of winter that yet lingered upon them. Then, Entreri's shoulders began to shake, followed by his arms, then chest. 

Jarlaxle brightened. "Truly, it gladdens me that you're able to find the humor--" he began.

The assassin's glare snapped up. Jarlaxle's smile faded completely. The hand that grabbed him by his collar did so so fast that he wasn't even aware of it having moved by the time that he felt his feet kicking in the air. 

"Artemis, please--" the mercenary begged, his hands clasping the grip at his throat. "It was an honest mistake!"

Entreri said nothing, instead slamming Jarlaxle against a nearby tree. It wasn't hard enough to knock the breath out of him, but still Jarlaxle gasped, for the assassin came on so quickly that the next thing he knew, his legs were pinned by the human's knee, his torso by his companion's arm. Entreri's breath was hot against his face, the scent of coal only amplifying the sensation of being scalded by fire. 

"Artemis? What are you going to do with me?"

"Didn't you say that it's a holiday for sharing?"

Jarlaxle started to answer, but Entreri's glare silenced him.

"In the spirit of Valiant Times, I am doing my part in sharing a new experience with my 'cherished one'." The assassin's tone was like ice.

The black tube drew closer to Jarlaxle's mouth.

The mercenary craned his neck as far as it would go. "Please, Artemis, peace, I beg!" 

The tube did not halt its advance.

"Surely you wouldn't make a heartbroken man watch you feed his childhood friend to the bastard whom robbed him!" Jarlaxle managed to croak around the corner of the black substance that'd already wedged itself between his lips.

Thankfully, the item didn't penetrate his mouth any further. Although his vision was entirely occluded by his companion's form, Jarlaxle could hear that the stranger's sobs had become more subdued. 

The assassin pulled away from the mercenary. "Come with me," Entreri said, more an order than a request as he headed towards the bedraggled stranger once more. It was the last thing that Jarlaxle wanted to do, but nonetheless, he followed dutifully.

"Good sir, is this what you seek?" Entreri held out the broken tube and the small portrait.

The stranger cried out with a mix of glee and dismay. He snatched the items from the assassin's hands. "What have you done with Mishka?!"

A heavy hand fell on Jarlaxle's shoulder. "Please forgive my clumsy friend, good sir. He can be very single-minded when met with curious items. Not unlike a child in a confectionery shoppe, he simply cannot resist the urge to grab the sweetest treat." 

The hand on Jarlaxle's shoulder gave it a firm squeeze. A firm, painful squeeze. The mercenary winced, but took the cue and nodded earnestly. He started to speak, but an icy glare from the assassin froze the words in his throat.

"Fortunately, he is a simpleton with means. He has learned the error of his ways and will expend some of those means now to recompense you for the injury that he has done onto you." Entreri's gaze hardened as he turned it back to Jarlaxle. "Isn't that right, my abbil?"

Jarlaxle kept his wince inwards, instead nodding enthusiastically. "Quite so!" he exclaimed as he drew a wand from one of his many pockets. Perceiving the hesitation in the drow's ruby eyes, Entreri coaxed the broken tube and the small portrait from the unkempt man's hands, placed the portrait within the tube, then held it out beneath Jarlaxle's raised wand.

The mercenary didn't speak the command word. Instead, he whispered in his native tongue words that might've been birdsong to the stranger's ears, "Truly, my trusted friend, you wound me so, to ask that I expend this much."

"Further, as a gesture of goodwill," Entreri continued as though nothing had sounded but actual birdsong, "My generous friend will provide you with sufficient coin to see that you lack for nothing in your journey home." The assassin glared at the mercenary. "Is that not so?"

Jarlaxle's reply was a single word. The item in the assassin's hands was whole again. Entreri noted with displeasure that the charcoal taste in his mouth yet lingered.

"Your Mishka," Entreri stated as he handed the stranger the restored tubular object. 

"And your travel expenses," the assassin added, one palm extended at the mercenary. Jarlaxle frowned but obediently placed a bulging coinpurse in Entreri's outstretched hand. The assassin bounced the coinpurse before handing it to the disheveled stranger, then returned his empty palm to Jarlaxle. The drow's frown deepened into a scowl, but again, he wordlessly placed another bulging coinpurse in Entreri's expectant palm. Entreri repeated the assessing motion, handed the purse to the stranger, and just as Jarlaxle readied a rejoinder, Entreri's hand didn't reach for him again.

Instead, thoroughly ignoring the drow, the two humans walked away, Entreri talking to the stranger with a false familiarity that nonetheless made Jarlaxle uncomfortable. He knew better than to try to follow though, the hard set of Entreri's shoulders warned him against it, so it was all he could do to watch the assassin point the strange man towards the nearest town.

When Entreri returned, outstretched in his hand was what appeared to be a small piece of metal. 

"What's this?" Jarlaxle couldn't help his curiosity.

"Chocolate."

The drow quirked an eyebrow. "Encased in silver?"

The assassin answered him by peeling away metallic skin that was thinner than parchment to reveal a rich brown bar within.

"For you," Entreri deadpanned.

Jarlaxle's ears drooped. "Please, my abbil, haven't you punished me enough?"

"I am not like you," the assassin retorted. "I know exactly the nature of what it is that I'm offering to you. It is chocolate."

Jarlaxle looked sadly from the offered bar to the assassin's face, then back again.

"If you truly care about me as much as you claim to care, and value my trust as much as you claim that you do, you would at the very least try this." Entreri's voice lacked inflection, as though he were stating an objective fact.

Jarlaxle sighed and begrudgingly accepted the offered item. He squeezed his eyes shut as he bit off a small corner, fully expecting to taste char, soot, and perhaps a hint of meat, but instead..."

The drow's eyes popped open. It was sweet, rich, and creamy. It was actually chocolate! A wide smile broke over his handsome features. "Ah, my abbil, truly you are more noble than I! It was wrong of me to have doubted you. Please, accept my most humble apologies." 

The mercenary struck a deep bow, then earnestly ate the rest of the confection. It wasn't a difficult task at all, for it was truly delicious.

The assassin's expression was stern even after the drow had finished the last bite. 

"I planned to insist upon your company at a revel I'm to attend tonight," Jarlaxle began hastily, thinking that he had Entreri's dishumor figured out. "However, given what has transpired... I shall spare you what you no doubt consider a nuisance."

A smile broke over the assassin's grimness. Jarlaxle breathed an internal sigh of relief.

"I must be on my way then, my abbil," the mercenary proclaimed as he threw down his Nightmare figurine. "Have a joyous Valiant Times!"

As Entreri watched the drow fade into the distance, he drew out a small blue and white box, which still contained several bars of the "chocolate" that he'd given Jarlaxle to eat. 

"Indeed," the assassin whispered with a thin smile to the exquisitely written lettering on the box, pleased that the stranger had told him of both its “explosive” results and its charming name of "Ex Lax".

[amartiniplease]

Joseph Liebgott x Reader

“That’s starting to get annoying”

A/N: This is prompt 1 from @jovialcollectorengineersworld‘s prompt list. I found it while browsing and got inspired.

I started rewatching the series after the new year and found The Band of Brothers fanfic scene a little lacking. And I just love these boys too much to just sit back and accept that. So here it is, my first ever fic on tumblr.

(Also if you read this and know of some good fics out there please hmu)

Synopsis: After pining after the man for three years, you can finally do something about it. The question is, will he like you back?

Disclaimer: This work is based on the characters as they are portrayed in the HBO series Band of Brothers and is by no means meant as an offense to any of the real men that it was based on.

“Hey Joe,” They were sitting opposite from each other in the vehicle currently transporting the troops to the next town. The engine drowned out her voice a bit as she leaned forward to make herself heard. “What’s you thinking of?”

She answered the annoyed glare he sent her way with a grin. He flicked open his lighter, lighting his cigarette before bothering to answer.

“That’s none of your fucking business, y/l/n”

Y/n, in question, rolled her eyes. “No need to be such a jackass, Lieb.” He was in one of those pissy moods again which made him unbearable to be around. “Just trying to make conversation. Normally you’d keep your blabbermouth running at a hundred miles per hour but now you’re just sitting there all quiet like a mouse, that’s all.”

She could see that she had ruffled his feathers, it was kind of amusing how telling his actions were. Although he didn’t say anything right away, he shifted as if he was trying to get comfortable. This was followed by this sort of leaning back move as if he was settling in, before he leaned forward to rest his forearms on his thighs.

“So fucking what, why do you care?” His eyebrows were cinched together as he spoke around the smoke resting in the corner of his mouth.

Y/n rolled her eyes again. Fucking Liebgott with his stupid face and his ability to be totally oblivious to everything. “I don’t.” She huffed out before focusing her glare on a burning building in the distance.

Since she was looking the other way she missed the puzzled look he shared with some of the other men. Her quick change in mood was a bit uncharacteristic, a fact that she was currently beating herself up for in her head. Liebgott shook his head as he studied her features.

“If you want a conversation so damn bad then sure. What are you thinking about?” Joe countered.

Turning her head back to face him she rolled her eyes again. “None of your fucking business Liebgott.” Raising an eyebrow in challenge, egging him to take the bait.

When his eyes narrowed she could see the spark igniting in there. “Yeah? Then stay the fuck out of my face.”

Y/n had to keep from smiling wide when she rolled her eyes and shot him a cocky smirk. “What’s you gonna do about it?” After the past weeks she was craving to feel anything but the seething desperation that had gotten a grip on her heart, and the adrenalin of a fight was giving her exactly that.

“Stop rolling your fucking eyes at me.” He sneered, looking as though he would pounce her at any given moment.

That was not the right thing to say as it just made Y/n roll her eyes again. She heard one of the guys groan something like, “not again”, but all she could think was, yes again.

“Like I said, what are you gonna do about it?” She settled back in her seat popping a smoke in her mouth, lighting it with ease. She sighed at the familiar feeling as smoke rushed into her lungs before flicking the ash nonchalantly onto the floor, just as the truck came to a stop.

Without giving him an opportunity to respond she got up and out, ignoring him completely while turning to listen to Sergeant Malarkey as he told them to stay put until he figured out where they were going.

She noticed the glances Joe kept sending her way and she knew that this wasn’t over, she was counting on it not being over. At least she could get some emotion out of him, even if it was frustration and anger. Although she would have much preferred if the frustration was a little more of the sexual kind.

To be fair he hadn’t known about the whole her being a girl thing for that long. She had somehow managed to keep that secret for almost three years through Toccoa, England, France and Holland in fear of being sent home or worse, shot for mutiny. After what they went through in Bastogne though there was not a thing that would make them rat her out even for something as earth-shattering as this. She would have kept her secret had it not been for the bullet that graced her near the end of the Battle of the Bulge. Her wound, a flesh wound in her left side near her armpit, had resulted in a very awkward situation where Doc had ripped open her shirt and had, together with the men around her at the time, gotten a little more titty action than they had probably expected.

As she was placing her pack on one of the bunk beds Joe approached her again.

“You want something?” She asked giving him an innocent look.

She saw how he clenched his jaw at that and instead of answering he just stared her down, which made her roll her eyes at him again.

“That’s starting to get annoying” Liebgott muttered, as he grabbed her arm.

Y/n was more than a little distracted with telling herself not to lean into that touch. “What is?”

“The whole eye rolling business.” He said meeting her gaze dead on. “It’s almost as if you’re avoiding eye contact with me or something.” His famous smirk gracing his face as he said the last bit.

Y/n felt dizzy when she noticed how close they were standing. 

“And I’m sure you have a brilliant idea as to why I would be avoiding that.” Her voice much too breathless for her own liking.

Joe’s response was to step even closer to her, making her bite her lip to suppress the whimper trying to slip out. Her brain was hyper-focused on the press of his hand around her wrist and the heated space between their bodies where they were almost touching.

The way he was looking at her felt predatory. “Sure I do.” Running his thumb along her pulse point making her shiver a little.

She let her eyes fall shut at the caress, trying to calm her racing heart.

“Are you not going to tell me this brilliant idea then?” Y/n didn’t open her eyes until after she finished talking and immediately regretted it when she ended up looking straight into his brown eyes.

“You want to get a rise out of me, get me to touch you.” He underlined his words by brushing his thumb over her wrist again, studying the way her eyes fluttered slightly. “You want me to find some other uses for that pretty little mouth.” He tugged her closer then, making her feel the length of their bodies pressed together. “Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

Y/n’s breath caught at the feeling of him so close and she scrambled backwards a bit, cheeks red from equal parts excitement and embarrassment. She shut her mouth that had fallen open during his little speech and swallowed drily.

“I-” She paused when her voice came out uneven. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Refusing to look at him she let her gaze flicker all over the room, accidently meeting Malarky’s knowing smile from the other side of the room. Since she wasn’t looking at Joe she didn’t notice him coming closer again.

“Hey, I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable but there is better ways to get my attention then picking fights, you know.” His hand going to lift her chin, making her look at him again. “If you wanted me to kiss you, you’d just have to say so.”

The words, “Kiss me.” were out of her mouth before she could stop herself. “Please, Joe. Please just kiss me.”

No more had to be said before she felt a hand cup her cheek while another sneaked around her waist. And before she could react she felt his lips press against hers and she let out a sound she didn’t know she was holding in. When he drew back a little for air she gripped the front of his shirt to bring their lips back together, pressing against him desperately. Their lips were both chapped after their time in the cold but Y/n swore she had never felt anything as good as this. It was desperate and full of passion, teeth clanging together messily as their tongues met. When the hand on her waist slid down to cup her ass, Y/n moaned into his mouth. They didn’t break apart until someone let out a very pointed cough.

Y/n was having trouble keeping the smile off her face as she glanced up to the group of men staring awkwardly at them. She knew she was blushing and bit her lip to keep her grin in check when she let herself look at Joe. The front of his shirt was crinkled were her hands had bunched up the fabric and he looked a little winded, with swollen lips and red cheeks. Her control slipped and Y/n smiled wide as she realized that she had done that. 

“As much as I’m glad the two of you finally eased all of that suffocating sexual tension we really don’t need to see you two getting it on. And I’m pretty sure you don’t want a bunch of horndogs around to stare at you while you do.” Malarky pointed to the lot of them with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah, sorry about that Sarge.” Y/n mumbled unable to stop her giddy giggle.

[kyloxmoegi1993]

The Meeting Part 2

The past few days that Lacie had had off were like a mini vacation to her. She had told Sarah, her best friend that she had known for a very long time, all about the encounter with the CEO known as Cayde-6. Sarah wasn't much of a romantic person but she actually encouraged Lacie to see him again but urged her to also be careful.

She wanted to see him again. Something about him drew her to him and she still hadn't been able to figure it out. Sighing, the dark haired woman walked into the hospital and was greeted by her friends as she walked in then saw on her desk a vase of flowers with a small card placed inside the various types of flowers. Walking around and into the work area she looked confused as her co workers eyed her curiously.

The flowers were a mix of sunflowers, red roses, and some pink carnations. Interesting combination, she thought to herself. Kalia, her work sister rolled over and elbowed her

"Well? What does the note say girl. I'm assuming these are from a guy."

Giggling she took out the note and opened it

'Lacie, thank you for the wonderful evening. Seriously don't worry about my scarf and don't worry about you know unintentionally calling me an asshole. I seriously had an amazing time and I hope to do it again. If you ever have some spare time come see me sometime. I'm on the top floor in suite 450. See you soon ;)'

Blushing, Lacie handed the note to her friend and watched kalia smirk like a predator about to pounce on it's prey.

"ooooooo you little minx. Snagging the eyes of a big wig CEO. You'd better take that delightful derriere over there right now."

"Please. I have to work."

The dark haired woman reached out to grab her chair when suddenly kalia kicked her chair out of the woman's grasp.

"I'll cover for you. You haven't seen anyone since what's his face. Goodbye. Text me later."

Lacie opened her mouth to argue and sighed knowing it was useless. Kalia had a way of always winning.

"Alright alright. I'm going. I owe you one Kali."

The blonde woman waved her off and Lacie stepped outside and looked up at the sky. Exhaling she made her way across the street and walked inside the huge building.

*With Cayde*

Cayde was listening to his partner drone on in some boring meeting he wasn't really paying attention to when Sundance appeared and showed him some security footage, causing him to sit up suddenly.

Without saying anything cayde got up and started walking out.

"Cayde. This conversation is not yet concluded." Barked the blue skinned man who looked like he could charge a brick building and do more harm to the building than himself.

"Oh it is now. Something has come up."

Getting out of the room Cayde had Sundance appear again.

"What was the timestamp on that video?"

"About five minutes ago. It's refreshing seeing you so head over heels for someone you only met once."

Cayde ignored the jab from his ghost and made his way to his office to make a phone call down to security.

"Hey Jonas. There's a woman that just walked in she's wearing a beige trenchcoat and has on scrubs. Snag her and escort her up to my office please. Thank you."

Not giving the security guard time to ask questions cayde hung up and set about fixing his office up a bit. He tended to be a bit messy but not too bad, still he wanted to give her a damn good impression.

Sitting down he set about to waiting but making himself look busy when Ikora, a tall woman with dark skin and eyes that seemed to look right through you, slipped into his office shutting the door.

"So, who is this mystery woman you're all worked up over?"

Cayde scoffed and played it off like he didn't know what she meant.

"Not a clue whachu mean Ikora. Unless you're talking about my girl Sundance."

The woman in charge of the warlocks class placed her hands on his desk and looked at him. The woman was about to ask one more time when there was a knock on the door and the security guard escorted Lacie into his office.

Ikora watched the way Cayde stood and how his eyes never left her and knew she was going to mean a lot to the EXO.

"We'll talk later six."

Winking she walked out leaving the CEO with the light skinned woman.

Looking around, Lacie met his gaze impressed.

"I never thought I'd be an office like this..it's so big..."

Cayde laned back slightly propping his butt on his desk watching her chuckled.

"It's alright I suppose. I take it you received my gift."

She looked at him lightly blushing,"Yes.... thank you so much...you didn't have to send those.."

"Not send a beautiful woman flowers? The horror."

Together they laughed and a few minutes later a silence came across them.

"So um...Mr. Six..may I ask why you wanted me to come see you?"

Looking at her slightly surprised he looked up at the ceiling and closed his eyes. Why had he wanted to see her? The very thought of seeing her had made him feel something he hadn't felt in a very long time and he found himself growing anxious with each passing day he hadn't heard from her. Now that she was here, he just wanted to stay in her presence for as long as he possibly could.

"I wanted you to see that I wasn't that bad. I also wanted to see if you'd be interested in going on another date.."

Blinking surprised, Lacie looked at the EXO.

"Wait....are you serious...?"

Cayde nodded and eyed her nervously but tried to keep a straight face so she wouldn't know how much he wanted her to say yes.

Lacie looked at him and shyly nodded her head as her face turned a light pink.

"Okay.... I'd like that...only if I can choose the restaurant."

Supposing that was fair, Cayde nodded in agreement.

"Where did you have in mind?"

He thought for sure she was fixing to name off a couple of fancy places. He hated dressing up and going to places like that, but if it was what she wanted he would suck it up.

"Ramen. I wanna go to the spicy ramen shop."

Now it was Caydes turn to look surprised and he vocalized as such as well.

"Here I thought you'd want to go somewhere upscale instead."

A frown crossed her face, her eyebrows pinching together. Shit he'd insulted her. He didn't mean to but he's used to women using him for his money...

"I'd rather eat a restaurant we both like and that we'll both be comfortable eating at than elsewhere. I don't need to be wined and dined."

The EXO smiled and stood up straight walking towards her and he had to stop himself from touching her cheek the way he wanted to. He so wanted to cup her face with one hand and kiss her, but they still barely knew one another. He wanted to take things slow with her and see where it went. Sticking his hands in his pockets he nodded.

"Sounds good to me. Tomorrow night at let's say...6?"

She looked up at him with dark blue eyes and he saw so much in her eyes. Fear, a spark of interest, hope, and hesitation...the fear and hesitation is what he was cautious of. Something had happened to her in the past that caused her to have that kind of reaction and he had a feeling it wasn't going to be easy to get past those defenses she had put up.

"I was hoping this afternoon would be a good time to do a second date since I was given the day off."

He smiled at her again chuckling, "I can see what I can do. Why don't you have a seat and make yourself comfortable while I go wrap some things up."

Making quick work of letting Zavala and Ikora know he was leaving for the day he headed back towards his office when he saw Lacie talking to a couple of his Hunter's.

"Jordan, Katarina. You're back early from your overseas trip."

The blonde female turned and smiled, "You're making our missions too easy boss. And also we like this girl. You should hire her on. See ya later lace. Come on Jo leave the girl alone."

Pulling her partner away from Lacie the pair disappeared.

"What exactly do people who work here do?" Lacie asked timidly, still blushing from the encounter.

He had been waiting for this question and felt excitement ripple through all his circuits.

"Wanna see?"

Nodding she followed him taking his arm when he offered it to her and followed him down to a room full of television monitors.

"This is the control center, here is where I'm able to monitor my hunters coming and goings. Now what they do exactly is I assess them, determine where in the world they are needed and send them out to those locations and they do what the military can't. Titans and warlocks do the same thing but my hunters are meant for stealth, and other things."

Lacie looked at how passionately he talked about it but realized just how dangerous he was at the same time.

"So, if I'm reading between the lines correctly, you do assassination jobs and other dangerous jobs."

"What? Noooooooooo." He replied immediately causing the young woman to look at him sternly.

"Okay yeah...that's just scratching the surface of it though."

Equally impressed and slightly afraid she looked at this man that made her heart beat really fast and made her feel butterflies, she hadn't felt this way since...her ex. Shaking her head, she refused to go down this road again. A chime from her ghost startled her again and she saw a message from Shaxx. Sarah's boyfriend rarely messaged her unless it was important and she took her phone out and read the message.

"Oh God dammit Sarah. Mr. Six, I am so sorry, my best friend is in the hospital on the other side of town. I've gotta go."

"What? Well let me give you a ride. That's a long way to run."

Hesitating for a second she fought with herself then decided fuck it and agreed to let him take her.

Getting her into one f the limos l, they took off and cayde saw how worried she looked and reached over, holding her hand to comfort her.

"Tell me what happened."

Shaking but slowly relaxing she looked at him, "she...she was being stupid and reckless...my best friend is a bit of an adrenaline junkie and she was speeding on her motorcycle....racing some morons and she took a turn too hard and too fast...the car didn't see her...."

Cayde watched this woman start crying and knew he was not leaving her side. He moved from sitting across from her to sitting beside her and held her as she so bed into his chest.

"She'll be okay. I'll make sure of it Lacie...shhhh."

How he was going to accomplish this he had no clue but he was not going to let her sense that.

Arriving at the hospital she jumped out immediately and ran inside and in the waiting room he saw a tall, muscular man stand up and hold her close. He looked like he could crush even Zavala. After giving instructions to have his personal car brought here later to the driver cayde walked inside and over to Lacie.

The muscle builder guy looked at Cayde and then down at Lacie. "Is he with you?"

Lacie looked back at him slightly surprised and nodded, "Yes..Shaxx this is Mr. Cayde-6 CEO at the Tower and Mr. Six this is Lord Shaxx...or just Shaxx...he's Sarah's boyfriend."

Shaxx reached out and shook Caydes hand, intentionally squeezing a bit too hard. Cayde soon figured out this Shaxx was a big brother figure to Lace and had been for quite some time. This was gonna be an obstacle he was going to have to overcome later on but for now he was focused on Lacie and making sure she was okay.

"Nice to meet you Shaxx. I wish it were under better circumstances though."

Shaxx nodded and looked down solemnly.

"She's in surgery right now...I would have called but I was afraid of getting you in trouble...I'm sorry to have sent a text message.."

Touching his arm, Lacie comforted him, "No no it's okay Shaxx. It's okay...I'm here.. we're both here now. She'll make it...come on..let's sit."

After sitting there for a couple hours, Cayde woke Lacie up when the doctor came out taking his mask off.

Sitting up quickly, Lacie looked at the doctor and held Shaxx's hand.

Looking at the two of them the doctor finally spoke, "We....we did everything we could...I am sorry..."

"No...."

Cayde looked at the doctor then at Lacie and Shaxx.

"NOOOOOO!!!!!!"

*End Part 2*

[banesbottombitch]

omg you should do a fic where the reader is dating some goody two shoes guy but is going behind his back and banging patrick and he catches them one day and idk maybe patrick clocks him or something idk

My sweet bean, I bring you the goods- and boy did it take a while to bring the goods, so I’m sorry about that!

Prompt Summarized: Reader cheats on her Good Guy BF with Patrick, and he catches them. 

Word Count: +3,400

Warnings: Light sexual stuff, violence of the punchy and knifey kind. Studious!Reader.

Tagged: @dreamboathannah, @restoftheworldfallsaway @ghoulishtozier @itwasmathilda, @fangirlinganditswonders, @neoandersons, @basicwheeler, @leetime14, @passionfortrashin @nurserykryme @nonrelatableteen

(Anyone who wanted to be tagged for WYS automatically gets tagged for my other Patrick works as a bonus, my duderinos. Message me -through pm-  if you want to also be tagged! Love y’all.)

Ryan Burns was perfect. He was the co-captain of the debate team, the fastest runner in track and field, he was tall and handsome with nearly angelic features. He was broad shouldered, carried a winning smile, with a mess of curly chocolate hair and flawless olive skin.

Your dad loved him, your mother adored him and invited him to dinner weekly. He walked you to class, held your hand, and pressed poliet kisses to your forehead. Ryan bought you cute little gifts, asked you to homecoming and stayed up to study with you for classes he didnt even have.

For christ sake, he was thinking of following you to USM for college just to be with you.

So why on earth where you tangled up in Patrick Hockstetter’s arms, hiding out in an equipment room?

Why were you pressed up against a wall with Derry’s worst filth, the boy who drew whispers where he stalked and tormented the innocent? Patrick was a nobody, a good-for-nothing drunk on perversions and reeking of cigarette smoke. He warranted fear, he practically breathed predatory flare as he hovered above the masses, and in all honesty- once he terrified you.

So why? Why there you there?

Because he was everything Ryan wasn’t, and he wanted you in a way Ryan couldn't dreamed of having you- and you wanted him back just as badly.

Patrick caught your attention maybe sophomore year. That was when he first found you, sitting in the library and working on a book report. He sat with you, threw a threatening arm across your shoulders and struck up casual (albeit antagonistic) conversation with you. Your responses were quick and to the point, too focused on your work to pay him too much attention.

He gave up before long, but returned the next day. And the next, and the next, continuing the habit until you didnt have another project to work on, so he started cornering you in hallways by your locker, or sitting with you at lunch. At first it was intrusive and stressful, having him follow you everywhere, but after a few weeks of pestering you his taunts become more playful and half-serious if anything, all the animosity dwindling away.

It wasn’t long before he became a comfortable weight on your shoulders, always there, ever watching.

You talked about school, music, books you enjoyed and how excited you were for college. He learned about your nuclear family composed of a housewife, a stock broker father, and your siblings, a golden older brother who could do no wrong and attention seeking younger brother with pestered the hell out of you. You walked with him to class, letting him copy your notes, and sometimes even let him drive you around Derry after classes were out.

Though Patrick had a more nihilistic process of thinking, you welcomed the change of pace compared to your other friends, who at this point, were worried about you. He talked about his friends, the latest movies to come out, girls he had slept with, and the crazy nights he had spent high and drunk running around Derry. He wasn’t too open about his family, but you had caught a few remarks about his mother who he at least seemed to favor over his father. Patrick dragged you to parties he was invited too, introduced you to his friends and urged them to welcome you with open arms. You had lost count of how many times Belch and you had piled Henry, Vic and your newest lanky companion into Amy after a particularly wild bonfire by the canalside.

So slowly, by the end of sophomore year, you two had become good friends. He was a dangerous individual, but somehow you two had been drawn together despite being polar opposites. You spent the following summer running with the Bowers Gang, while also juggling SAT study classes, church and AP assigned reading. Henry was a little rough around the edges, but warmed up to you fast, while Belch seemed relieved to finally have someone else to hang out with who wasn’t intent on getting fucked up at every party they attended. Vic was a little distant at first, but he quickly found a friend in you as you spent the summer discussing music, AP studies and colleges you hoped to get into. Patrick of course was in his own world, but dragged you by the wrist into it. The boys took you to movies, wild barn parties and drove you all around town, Vic and Patrick squishing you in the back of the blue Trans-Am while they shared a joint.

When junior year finally began you stayed at your old table with the friends you had accumulated through the years, and chatted nonsense with them. Once in a while you found yourself outside in the quad, eating lunch between Belch and Patrick while the boys laughed and joked about the latest thing they saw on TV or the fight they got into the day before. It became normal for you to hear about the nitty gritty reality outside Derry’s picturesque small town image, and you caught yourself wistfully wishing to hear more when you returned back to your table of tamer and more sensible friends. All they wanted to do was discuss the latest tests and boys they thought were cute, and for some reason you had never exactly seen what they saw. After all, any boys who approached you were almost instantly deterred by Patrick’s presence.

“He’s kinda like your guard dog.” your friend Casey had said one day at the table, and you rolled your eyes, Patrick absent from lunch on account of skipping the rest of the day past third period. He had left you a note in your locker, assuring you he’d be picking you up after classes were out to be dragged to another one of the parties and and the rest of the Bowers Gang had been invited to, no doubt to be his designated driver instead of Belch for the eighteenth time. “Patrick, I mean.”

“Patrick’s fucking creepy.” Britney agreed over her textbook, studying at the lunch table. “No offence.”

“Offence taken. He’s kind of my friend.” You shot her a dirty look, but moved your food around your plate, a little out of place without the scratch of Patrick’s callused fingertips brushing against your arms as he joked with you, always one to ignore the rest of the table and choosing to entertain you only.

“Guard dog.” Casey quipped, and you switched that glare to her, but knew she was right. Her eyes were elsewhere however, and there was a knowing smirk on her glossy lips. “With him here, no guys ever visit, and for once in your life, you need to take that chance, [First Name] and go talk to… Oh, I dont know, Ryan Burns?”

“Ryan?” You frowned, but felt a light tap on your shoulder.

You turned, and found those soft brown eyes and tanned skin, and that's where it all began- with Patrick’s absence and a chance for Ryan to cut in.

It had been so casual between you and Patrick, but then you started dating Ryan in junior year. That was when everything took a quick and drastic turn to ‘Oh Fuckville’. Moody and near cruel, Patrick’s visits became less and less frequent at the lunch tables, much to your friends excitement, but your disappointment.

Ryan never mentioned your old friend’s absence, or even his existence. He carried on, a muscular arm replacing Patrick’s over your shoulders as he dazzled all your friends and family with his brilliant smile and sweet ways. He pampered you, he loved you, and yet all you could do during your junior year was wistfully watch from afar as Patrick Hockstetter started dating Gretta Bowie.

You lost contact with Patrick, he barely registered you in the halls and he turned his back on you time and again when you made an effort to approach him. He was silent as the grave, and after a while, it became normal for you to to forget about him days at a time. Ryan replaced Patrick, slipping in your life like a well loved glove- all smiles and sweet nothings.

The Bowers Gang took a cold shoulder to you as well, though Belch and Vic seemed the most reluctant and you had caught them eyeing you once or twice, and received a tiny little wave in recognition.

Then it was senior year. You, the future valedictorian with a track star boyfriend and intent to get into college on a grant and perfect scholarship. Patrick, the resident bad boy with a handful of new piercings adorning his ears and a collection of tattoos on his pale skin, his cheerleader girlfriend worn on his arm but his eyes glazed with indifference.

December came, and so did the winter dance. Patrick wore a suit, you wore a dress, both of you took your dates and danced. Ryan was exhausting but adorable, Gretta must have been equally exhausting, but demanding and arrogant.

You crossed paths at the punch bar, never speaking, only looking. His eyes followed you when you brushed past, and for the first time in nearly a year you caught that familiar scent of cloves, cigarettes and patchouli.

January followed shortly, as well as deadlines for college applications. You found yourself in a familiar setting, Derry High’s library, when Patrick dropped down in a seat beside you.

“Heya, Princess.” He said, and you barely recognized the voice. It had deepened, what was once more nasally and condescending was richer and smooth now, and it made you grip your pen a little tighter.

“Hockstetter.” You said with little warmth, but hearing his voice, having his eyes on you, it made relief flow through you.

He watched you in silence while your pen traced your delicate handwriting, a hand resting on the wood table. The fingers had a few burns, a couple blisters as evidence of his after school activities, but they were still nimble and thin- new rings you had never seen before lining them.

You were alone in the library, free period for seniors usually spent in the quad by the cafeteria, or on the fields where your classmates could blow off some steam. Patrick would have normally been found in the parking lot, schmoozing Bowie in the back of his car or sneaking a drink from Vic’s flask while he and the other boys in the Bowers Gang stood around Belch’s blue Trans-Am.

But he was there, beside you, instead. A fact you couldn't ignore.

You sighed finally, dropping your pen and turning to face him, frown tight. “What do you want, Patrick?”

His lips tilted in an arrogant smirk, and he leaned back in his chair, lifting the front two feet in the air.

“Why? Bothered by me, Princess?”

You smacked a hand on his knee, bringing his fun to an abrupt halt and slamming the chair back down. You weren’t going to play his games, and you were in no mood to amuse him. He had dropped off the face of the planet, and ignored you for months. He had no right to walk back into your life as if he did nothing wrong.

“Don’t make me repeat myself, Patrick.” You met his gaze, and caught how his jaw tightened and his eyes flashed. Your power move had grabbed his attention, and possibly not in a good way.

“Why so serious, [First Name]?” He had the audacity to keep the smirk, and you tore your hand from him.

“Fuck off.” You snapped, and to his surprise, you began to pack your supplies up. You threw your essays in a folder and shoved them in your backpack, standing. Patrick hurried to do the same, and snagged your wrist.

“Dont walk away from me, [Last Name].” He hissed, and when you attempted to wretch your wrist away, he applied a bruising grip.

“Let me go, or I swear to go I’ll scream.” You threatened, curling your trapped hand into a fist. You barely felt them, but the tears began to form. Your shoulders tensed, and Patrick caught every little attempt you made to hold back from showing the emotions that stirred inside.

“You swear? Do you really?” He brought a hand to your shoulder, and you shivered as it slid up your neck, caressing the line of your jaw before he captured your chin in a tight hold and tugged you forward.

He was inches from you, breathing warm breath that smelt of cigarettes and mint gum, with an almost adoring look in his eyes. They searched yours, and you made a move to speak, but he shushed you.

“Because I’ve wanted you to scream for me for years now, Princess.”

Patrick brought you into a rough kiss, tugging you from sight and leading you behind bookshelves, dropping his hold from your wrist to hook his arm around your waist and keep you close. The kiss burned through you, and there was no hesitation when you kissed back. Ryan forgotten, your friends tossed behind. All you cared about was keeping Patrick’s attention on you, his hands on your body and mouth on your lips.

He parted your lips, drawing a barely there moan from you. You tilted your head, gaining a new angle to kiss him, bringing hands to wind into his long strands and pull him closer. The kiss was wet, sloppy, desperate- but it was everything in that moment. He bit at your bottom lip, and you dragged nails across his scalp, grinding against his hips and forcing him to give a rough groan when you felt a hardness between his legs grow.

You broke from him then, dizzy from lack of air and a rush of excitement tainting your ability to think straight. Patrick pressed practiced kisses down your neck, scraping teeth against the skin but knowing better than to leave marks.

“Patrick…” You murmured his name, earning a rake of his fingers across the side of your waist, which only served you to press harder against him. “Patrick, stop. Someone will see.”

He snaked his arm tighter against you, and quietly rapsed against your skin. “Equipment room, tomorrow. During free period.”

Patrick nipped your neck affectionately, parting from you and slinking away as if he hadn’t just shared a breath taking kiss with you and left you yearning for more.

That first day in the equipment room was absolute bliss. You remembered bare arching backs, sweaty limbs and desperate kisses that made your lungs burn as he held you against the cool painted cement walls and drew moan after moan out of you. They continued at a weekly occurrence, your extracurricular activities unknown to Gretta Bowie or Ryan.

This time was no different, and you hooked fingers into his belt loops during a heavy and needy kiss, wordlessly begging for the article of clothing to come off. Tangled in your arms, he bit at your lip, letting out a breathy little chuckle before reaching down and tugging at the hem of your sweater.

“Take this off first, Princess. Then we have a deal. Let me see what you’ve got on today.” He slipped a hand under the soft stitching, humming as he did so.

“Why do I always have to strip first?” You asked with a quiet laugh, obeying him and crossing your arms over your torso and dragging the sweater off in a fluid motion. His tongue wetted his lips, eyes lazily raking down what you offered as he let out a slow breath.

“Wish you would let me mark you. All this skin,” Patrick drifted fingertips across your stomach, appreciating the blissfully clear skin under his touch. He wouldn't say it out loud, but you knew he worried that every time the two of you found each other in the equipment room that you would finally arrive one day showcasing red and purple love bites from someone else. “All bare for me, its a fucking tease, Princess.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but stopped short when the equipment room’s door handle jiggled and twisted, unlocking. It was thrown open ion one fluid motion, and through the single bulb that lit the room, you saw the face of your boyfriend standing in the doorway. Angelic features froze, and Ryan’s expression leaned from anguished to mortified. You saw the heartbreak in his eyes, and you dug sharp nails into Patrick’s upper arms, your shock evident.

“Awkward.” Patrick said with little emotion, but you were quick to catch the careful calculation working behind his eyes.

Nobody moved. Everyone was statue still.

And then all hell broke loose.

Ryan hurled himself at Patrick, a first raised and his speed almost inhuman. Patrick pushed off from you, easily avoiding the hit that was thrown at him, just barely hitting a shelf of equipment and forcing him to sidestep the shelving and round the track star.

“You fucking asshole.” Ryan seethed, his breathing just angry pants and shoulders quivering. “You had Bowie. You could have any fucking girl here, why the fuck did you after my girl?”

Ryan grabbed air, missing Patrick again, who snorted an incredulous laugh. You snatched your sweater off the floor, pulling it over your head and keeping close to the brick wall, unsure of what to do in the tiny room with two wound up boys both itching to fight.

“She was mine well before she was yours, Burns.” Patrick taunted with a sneer, and he dug into the back of his pocket, procuring a folded blade, which he unfurled with ease. There was a glitter of malevolence behind those grey-green eyes of his, and something told you that if the fight was to continue, that Ryan would end up with a permanent jokers smile.

Ryan launched forward, and Patrick ripped his shoulder to the side, throwing him up against the wall opposite to you, the blade at his pulse. Ryan struggled for a moment, the knife breaking skin as beads of red appeared, and Patrick pressed his other arm across the tan skinned boys chest, holding him there. Ryan rolled his tongue, inhaling sharply and then spitting in the dark haired boys face.

“Fuck you, Hockstetter.”

Patrick rubbed the spit from his cheek, snarling and pressing Ryan hard against the wall. “You’re gonna regret that, Burns.”

You watched, heart nearly stopping as Patrick ripped the hand with the knife back, using the blunt of his knuckles to wail a precise punch against Ryan’s jaw. He cried out, and the air whistled as Patrick applied blow after blow, the hits landing against Ryan’s chin, cheekbones, nose and mouth. The knife threatened to cut skin as Patrick succumbed to his anger, and you tore yourself from your stupor to shout.

“Patrick!” You screamed, and you saw how the aforementioned boys shoulders tensed, actions frozen in time. “Dont.”

Ryan tried to push off from Patrick’s grip, but he was held there with ease, and the lankier boy glanced over his shoulder. His knife glinted in the light, the edge just barely tinged red as it hovered ever so close to Ryan’s face.

“So what then Princess?” He asked, and you noticed the way his jaw tightened. “Your move.”

“Why?” Ryan suddenly said, in an almost pleading sort of way. The betrayal was clear, and the guilt pulled at your heartstrings as you advanced quickly, refusing to meet his eyes.

“I loved you.” Your boyfriend said as you rested a hand on the arm that Patrick held a knife in. “I was gonna go to state with you, babe.”

“Patrick.” Softly, you urged him to drop his hold. He hesitated, and you saw the deliberation in his eyes.

Finally, with Ryan allowing a few tears fall, Patrick skillfully whipped his knife into dormancy, stuffing it into his back pocket and stepping back to let his grip slacken. Ryan fell to the concrete floor, and he raised a hand to gingerly touch his bruised and split lip, his eyes stuck on you.

“Why?” He repeated.

You refused to answer, taking a grip to Patrick’s arm and tugging at it. “Come on.”

He turned to follow you, taking quick steps to the door before he whipped his head back, and you saw the smugness in the highlights of his face, lips quirking into an arrogant smirk. “If you see Bowie ‘round, be a pal and tell her we’re over, Burns.”

Patrick let you lead him out out of the equipment room, a euphoric glow to his expression as he followed you down the halls. There was silence between you, and before you made it to the end of the hall and out the doors that led to the fields, he threw an arm over your shoulders and dragged you close- the familiarity of his touch the only thing that grounded you in that moment.

[ghostsnbees]

HELLO here’s the short story I worked on for a couple of hours for a school contest,,,,,,,,,,,,,, its called “And Time Stopped When I Saw You”

tw for hints of self-harm (though theres nothing explicit and it just seems like thats whats being implied) and bleeding ;;

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

Another minute passes by.

Tick. Tock. Tick. To-

“Okay, fine, you win.”

I pressed the ball-point pen a bit too hard, leaving a visible red mark on my forearm. The badly scribbled sentence on my arm was barely legible- nobody I knew understood it. Except for one particular person.

All of a sudden, as if like magic- blue ink strokes were swirling on my arm. If it really was “magic”, it didn’t feel that way anymore. This was normal for me. This was normal for us. The once unrecognisable strokes became clearer and clearer, until it formed..

“☺”

“..Rude.”

The culprit of the blue and neatly drawn smiley face was Karamveer- or K for short. He was to me what most would call… a soulmate, perhaps. We were bound together by fate or whatever- and though most people had what we called “The Red String of Fate”, or the “Grayscale view” that connected two soulmates, K and I were tied differently. Different in a way that whenever he drew on himself, the marks would appear on me, too, and vice versa. We used this to communicate with one another- because for some odd reason, he doesn’t want to tell me where he is, or if there’s any other way i could communicate with him. So we were stuck like this- drawing dumb marks on our limbs in a somewhat desperate attempt to talk with one another.

“See? Even you admit it. I’m just that irresistible.”

“Yuck, shut up.”

“;))”

I let out a small chuckle. This boy is gonna kill me someday— if he hasn’t already.

“wait brb gonna do smth. don't die while I'm gone lol”

My eyes blink over towards the clock rested beside my bed— it was 2am. I had school.

“on the subject of death, i’ll be signing off for tonight. its like. 2am here. Night K.”

I wince at how hard I pressed on my forearm again, and at how bad my handwriting was. I hope he could still understand.

“Gnight Ani <3”

I feel something flutter in my chest seeing the little heart scribbled beside the stupid little nickname he gave me. After staring at the blue symbol on my arm for what felt like a while, I brush the feeling off and head to bed.

—

“Animosah Agbon?”

My eyes tear open upon hearing my name. I was dozing off in class again.

“What’s the answer for number 11?”

I blink at the chalkboard and reposition my big reading glasses. “Uhhhhh….” The whole class is staring at me, a few of my classmates snickering and talking between themselves. I frown.

“Sixteen…four… no, in the equation 2y+16=6y-4, y is equal to 5.”

My classmates whoop and cheer while my teacher subtly smiles to herself. I slink back into my chair shyly and take my favorite retractable black pen out of my pencil case, rolling up my long sleeve to see if he’s written anything.

“please save me. i don’t like it in school anymore.”

Not a few seconds later, a reply is scribbled on my palm. “Ohhh, i hear ya. The only thing that kept me sane was the actually decent food they had there. Other than that, school is quite literally a juvenile prison.”

“,,,,why are you talking in past tense????”

“its for me to know and for you to find out :))”

“I hate you”

“ I love you too <3”

I try and hold back a small smile, but it peeps out anyway. I look around to see if anyone else has noticed. They’re all pre-occupied with something- Alvis with her string of fate, Callum asking his friend Xavier what color the chalk on the board was, Elenoir re-checking the ink of his token pen. Before I can fully fall asleep, the school bell chimes and everyone is rushing to their next class.

—

I plop onto my bed and read the conversations we shared throughout the day. He kept me awake through the majority of my subjects but stopped replying by the time I was writing on my ankles. I wasn’t sure what his timezone was, but I do admit- it would look pretty weird if he was scribbling with a colored gel-pen on his leg in public. Not even in public- just in general.

“I dont know if your still awake but good night”

“**you’re”

I groan and scrawl a small ‘e’ beside the misspelled word.

“goodnig”

The next few letters don’t come, and the text smudges itself. I subconsciously frown. What was he doing? I feel my stomach turn in knots in worry and I choke on my spit. Head screaming for relief, I shut my eyes tight and force my probably malfunctioning body to fall asleep.

—

When I open my eyes the next morning, the sun’s rays immediately burn and blur my sight, causing me to roll out of bed with a unceremonious thump! After lying on the floor for what seemed like 5 minutes, I check my arm to see if K wrote anything new.

..Nothing.

Before panic settles in, I lift the hem of my pajamas to check if the ones he wrote on my right leg were still there.

..All of his marks were gone.

Perhaps he just took a bath?

That’s.. impossible. He never washes the ink thoroughly enough for it to disappear.

..Is he okay?

“Are you okay?”

—

5 hours later and he still hasn’t replied.

At this point I’m awkwardly sprawled on my bed, occasionally lifting my arm to see if he’s said anything.

Where did he go?

—

2 weeks and still nothing.

I’ve been doing worse in school. My parents are getting uneasy, my teachers are concerned.

I wish I could talk to him again.

—

One month.

One month and my limbs are clean, aside from the numerous writings I’ve left asking where he was.

I haven’t slept well since the day he stopped replying. Am I too clingy? Am I too concerned? Should I stop trying?

..Maybe I am. Maybe I should. But no, I won’t.

I guess I just.. really, really miss him.

—

“Class dismissed!”

I stand up quickly and fumble for my bag and everyone rushes out of the room.

“..Animosah, can you stay for a bit?”

I grimace at my teacher, and she responds by softening her worried smile. I approach her slowly without maintaining eye contact with her.

“Are you sure you don’t want to talk about what’s bothering you?”

“I’m sorry, Ma’am. I really don’t want to.”

She must’ve noticed me rubbing my forearm because her face grows with concern.

“Animosah, what’s on your arm..?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Animosah. Show me.”

“Ma’am, please-“

“Ani.”

I almost gag at the nickname she called me.

Hesitantly, I shakily roll up my sleeve and lift up my right arm. It was nearly fully covered with ink marks- desperate pleas begging to know where my soulmate was. Tears start to roll down my cheeks as I quickly withdraw my arm and bend over to stifle my cries. My teacher quickly leaps to her feet and kneels to reach my eye level. She cups my face in her hands and pulls me into a hug.

“..Everything will be alright soon, dear. He will come back to you soon. I promise.”

And I hoped she was right.

—

My eyes feel a little dry after crying.

The town was a bustling, lively place of no sleep. The people there were a smiling and happy bunch- nearly everyone knew each other, and nearly everyone was friends. Though the townspeople greeted me with countless ‘good morning!’s and ‘hello!’s, I wasn't in the mood to even wave back. I felt like a sulking rat in a sea of adorable rabbits.

I hated it.

The roads were already familiar to me, so I walk in an almost rhythmic pattern to try to lighten my mood. Street Maya, Street Kassel, Street Avida, Street Ramas, Street Ettiel, Street Maya, Street Kassel, Str-

Wait.

I glance at the street sign. I’m at Street Avida.

..What.

Suddenly the air feels tight in my throat. I gasp ang gag, silently crying for air. I’m kneeling on the sidewalk when I see someone walking towards me. HELP! HELP! I try to scream, but I just cough harder.

The person walks past me without any sign of acknowledgement.

No, wait-!

In an instant, I’m dragged by the collar into an alleyway I didn’t even notice was there. When I’m pushed against the wall, I feel the air get knocked out of my lungs and I’m left hacking and coughing on the floor. The stranger who dragged me looms over me in a somewhat curious manner, examining my features slowly. They brush the hair off my face and I get a clear look at them- Their face is shrouded by a black hood, but with what little light peaking through they appeared to be young. The hood extended into a cloak reaching until their feet. The only eye-catching thing about them was a carefully-crafted pocket watch dangling off their hand.

“Who.. Who are you?”

“That’s not important, dear.”

Their voice rung in my head like an alarm clock- except it was less annoying. They spoke in an echo-y mixture of voices- my mom’s, my dad’s, my teachers’, my friends’, and so many other people. It felt calming in so many ways, but it also raised a dozen more questions.

“What’s important to you is what I have to offer.”

“What? Offer? I’m really sorry but I’m not interested in another car de-“

Even if I couldn’t see their face, I could tell they were glaring.

“Sorry.”

“It’s quite alright, love.” They look at my arm. “..You miss your soulmate, yes?”

I painfully look away and nod lightly.

“I see. I was like you once. I had a left wing of white feathers and my soulmate had the right of black. We flew together in the skies, hands intertwined. One day, however, he stopped wanting to fly with me. He never told me why, but all answers came to me once all my feathers fell out. I suppose we both flew too close to the sun.”

I gulp and mouth a subtle “I’m sorry”.

“..I’m sorry too, dear. I’m afraid I might've gone on a little tangent there. See, that might’ve happened to me, but that doesn’t have to happen to you, too.”

I look up at them. “What do you mean?”

“Fate has given you a chance, sunshine. As a sorceress of time, they’ve instructed me to give you a choice.”

“Time will stop in this world and shall only go on for you both. You have all the time in the world to look for him. And when you two meet eyes, the cycle of the earth shall continue. But you must hurry. Best of luck to you, love.”

“Hurry? Why? Is something wrong?”

..They’re gone.

—

When I wake up the next morning, everything is in black and white.

I check my alarm clock and it’s frozen at 6:12 am.

..That wasn’t a dream?

..That was real. Which means-

I jump out of bed, throw on a long sleeve blouse and pants and bolt towards the door. I almost trip on the stairs and when I fling the front door open, I tumble on a package that nearly sends me flying. I regain my composure and open the package. In it was a necklace with a red gem etched with mysterious writings and a note. The note said:

“This necklace will be able to transport you to whichever place you wish to be and light up whenever he may be near. Just say the word and you shall be there. Good luck, my dear. May the stars be forever in your favor. -SHUVHISKRGH”

I didn’t feel like decoding their name anymore. All I knew was one thing- I had to look for him.

I bring the necklace to my lips and whisper..

“Bring me… Bring me to my heart.”

The gem glows, and the mysterious writings ring in my ears in a unknown language. I shut my eyes tight as I’m enveloped by the red light and..

I fall to the ground and I groan.

I quickly get up and stumble a bit. Where was I? I was somewhere unfamiliar and new, that was for sure. I shuffle on tiled grounds. The place was filled with people that didn’t look all that friendly. The buildings surrounding me stood proud and tall like skyscrapers- and it was driving me crazy. I try to remain calm and examine my surroundings.

The necklace I held tight in my hand glowed faintly.

He’s here.

I dash from street to street, checking if the necklace would glow any brighter. And when it was as bright as a fire in my hand, I look up and see a figure looking down from a window.

The shadow places its hand on the glass, and glances at me. Suddenly my chest feels like its being tugged towards it, causing me to stumble. I hit the ground and before I can get up, something taps my shoulder

“Are you alright, miss?”

“Yes, I-“

..Wait, what?

The stranger has his arm stretched out, so I take it and heave myself up.

“..Thank you, sir.” I say as the man begins to walk away.

Time’s moving. That means-

I shoot my head up and see the figure by the window. It looked clearer now- it appeared to be a young boy my age in a hospital gown. He writes something on his left arm, lifts his right, smiles, and I realize who he was.

I run towards the building as quick as I can. My chest is pounding and I’m running out of breath but I don’t care. Before I reach the entrance, pain shoots up my left arm and I fall over. Blood was seeping through my sleeve and I cry out for help. With the little strength still left in my body, I roll up the cloth and see something etched into my inner forearm in very familiar neat cursive writing. When the realisation hits me, I start to cry even harder.

“i love you.”

..Always and forever.