#that could be anywhere from trespassing charges

[howlingwolf23]

There is literally ONE (1) building in my town that I hate because of this and no one seems to care!

So it's across the the street from a Walmart (what isn't now) but it is surrounded with a 10 ft iron fence. It's is one of the few 2 story buildings in town and the only 2 story in the area. Has more security cameras than the banks in town that you can see from the outside.

It has 2 keypad entrances, 1 large gate for the workers who drive in at 8:00 am and eave at 5:00 pm (I only know this cause I used to work at the Walmart and noticed over time) Whatever they work on must be digital as there is a small group of workers (20 ish guessing by parking size that I can see from the outside) and a small building. No product seems to enter or leave physically.

The second entrance is for guests. And this is what really, REALLY, really gets me. The guest entrance has small parking, about 8 spots, almost always empty. Never full. I don't think I have ever seen more than 2 cars there. But to get in, there is a keypad door, like the gate, (which I assume also has a speaker as I know it does have a camera that I have seen driving by.)

Now assuming you get passed the gate or door, both are still far from The Building! That just got you into The Fence. The Building is a large distance from the guest door. The worker parking is close to The Building but far from the gate entrance.

No clue what is needed to enter The Building cause I can't ever get that close but, again, 2 separate entry for workers and guests. Due to geography, workers enter on the bottom floor and guests enter on the top floor. This place literally has more security than our city hall and FBI office.

Now, I know, LOGICALLY, this just sounds like a private business that likes\needs their security\privacy. yes. sure. fine. I wish it was that simple. If it was that, it wouldn't rot in my brain.

But the thing is, whatever this building is,

There is no logo.

There is no sign.

There is no business name.

The only external marking is just the street number.

And I have searched the address with my limited resources. again, no listings.

If it was just a business that needed security, it would still have a name. Even if it was a government building, it would have a name on the building or a small sign at the guest parking. A signal or something to bring in clients!

Whatever this building is, it is almost as if it doesn't exist. It's just there. And no one seems to care.

And it vexes me every time I go shopping. What is going on in there? What is so secret? What is so important?

What do I need to do to get in those doors?

the best part about having a job is being able to go through doors other people aren’t allowed to use the worst part is everything else

[scottiexmariee]

Hiii 💜 can I request LAD short for the boys with a reader who gets arrested (for something stupid) and calls the boy to bail her out? Please and thank you!!

How the boys would react to you getting arrested <3

Characters: Xavier x Reader | Zayne x Reader | Rafayel x Reader | Sylus x Reader |

Word Count: 1.4k

Masterlist

Warnings: Slight violence mention

“This is a free call from Linkon City Corrections Facility from inmate: (Y/N). To accept this call, please press 1.” 

☆Xav would definitely come get you ASAP

☆This man trusts your judgement and knows you wouldn't end up in jail without a good reason, so he wouldn't even question you until you're safely in his arms

☆ He'd get there in record time so you didn't have to sit too long

When Xavier answered his phone at 2am, he hadn’t even looked at the screen to see who was calling. He knew you were out with your friends tonight, so he was already by the phone waiting for you to let him know you’d made it home safe. However, he expected your voice on the other end of the line, not a robot telling him that you were currently calling from Linkon City jail. 

Xavier blinked rapidly, trying to make sure he’d heard the automated message correctly. The message repeated itself when no button was pushed, confirming that he had definitely not been mistaken.

Xavier immediately pressed 1, listening to another spiel from the robot before the call finally connected. His shoes were on before he even heard your voice.

“(Y/N)?” 

“Xavier,” You began, “I promise I’ll explain everything but I need you to come pick me up. Please.” 

He’d already been planning on it, but the pleading tone in your voice would have had him folding regardless. 

“I’m coming,” He assured you, already halfway out the door.

On the other end of the call, you breathed out a sigh of relief. “I owe you my life,”

The second you get released from custody, he's giving you a hug and telling you to discuss it when you're ready.

When he found out that the reason you were arrested was for clocking a man square in the jaw for being unable to keep his hands to himself, he almost took a turn in a jail cell for the night.

"Xavier, it's okay," You insisted, cupping his face with your hands. "I already took care of it. Can we please just go home?"

"I can assure you it will be handled twice if I see him anywhere,"

❅Zayne definitely comes to get you, but he’s not even gonna pretend that he isn’t a little irritated 

❅Imagine working a grueling 16 hour shift as a surgeon, and when you finally sink down into your couch, ready to relax, your phone rings and it’s a a call from jail

❅because that is zayne’s reality and he is STRESSED 

❅#ringring #helpiminjail 

❅He’d cool off on the drive there, but you’re definitely still getting scolded (absolutely a ‘make better choices’ talk)

❅definitely shows up with heavy ‘disappointed but not surprised’ vibes

You'd gotten arrested for the dumbest thing on the planet.

While out on a walk, your Hunter's Watch notified you of a nearby metaflux fluctation, so you sprang into action without second thought.

You located the Wanderer pretty quickly and gave a good chase, even hopping a fence to put and end to it before it caused any severe damage. Unfortunately for you, the fence you'd hopped just so happened to belong to a private government building. You were very swiftly apprehended and loaded into the police car. The officers refused to hear any of your excuses, charging you with Criminal Trespassing.

You were not going to spend the night in jail over this, so you called the only person you thought might still be awake.

Zayne.

Zayne who, unfortunately, had just gotten home from a horrendously long shift not even an hour before your call came. When the Caller ID popped up for Linkon City Jail, his stomach twisted uncomfortably, already having a pretty good idea of who could potentially be calling him of all people. Initially, he was a whirlwind of frustration and annoyance. Not to mention stressed. His lovely partner, currently sitting in jail like a criminal. He'd leave right away, and most of his frustration would dissipate on the drive to come collect you.

Zayne greeted you with crossed arms and a deadpan expression, waiting until the pair of you got in the car before demanding an explanation. After you explained, his frustration was no longer directed at you, but more so at the absurdity of the situation.

Once you two were parked at his house, Zayne cupped the side of your face in one hand, gently resting his forehead against yours in a much needed gesture of affection.

"Please just try to be a little more careful," He said, his tone surprisingly soft. "I'm going to get grey hairs by the time I'm 30 if I have to keep collecting you from jail,"

❀ let’s be honest Rafayel is probably the reason you’re in jail anyway 

❀ probably trespassing to get a material for rare paint or something 

❀ he’d be mad at you because how are you supposed to protect him (miss bodyguard) if you’re getting arrested?

You felt your jaw tick as your name was finally called for your one free phone call. Of course, you were going to call Rafayel and make bailing you out his problem, since it was his fault you were here anyway. "If you aren't doing anything, I have a quest for you, Miss Bodyguard,"

"I'm out of a custom color for this painting. It's in a suuuper easy spot. You can do it, right?"

Unfortunately for you, Rafayel had failed to mention that his stupid 'custom paint color' was located in an area that was restricted to the public. Maybe he didn't even know. It was hard to tell with him. Either way, you'd gotten busted trespassing and whisked away in a police car.

When Rafayel's voice connected on the other end of the line, he was already running his mouth before you could say anything.

"'Getting materials for my paint' doesn't exactly sound similar to 'end up in jail.' How did you get them confused?"

"You're not a very good bodyguard. How are you supposed to protect me if you can't even dodge the police?"

"Wait. Why are you even in jail? Don't tell me you like...punched a baby or something,"

When he finally shut up for long enough for you to explain yourself, he laughed the second you finished talking.

"Really? That's it?"

"It's not funny, Rafayel. Come get me out of here!"

"Oh, relaaax. I'll be there in 20," Turns out, that plot of land actually belonged to Rafayel. He'd bought it when he realized he could get specific (rare) paint colors from the resources. The police, however, weren't aware that he'd send anyone other than himself to get anything from there, so when they just so happened to see you as they passed by, you really didn't stand a chance.

Rafayel was absolutely not going to let you live it down, either.

Now, in addition to your 'Miss Bodyguard' nickname, you had a less appealing one.

'Miss Criminal.'

⟡ Sylus is genuinely amused when he gets the call

⟡ "You don't typically hear of kittens allowing themselves to be caught,"

⟡ He knows you had a damn good reason for whatever you did

⟡ He'd come get you and lowkey bully you about it on the way home

⟡ any trace of you being in jail mysteriously disappears from the system less than 24 hours later 

Sylus almost didn't answer the phone call.

When the unsaved number popped up on his screen, he instinctively reached to dismiss it. He didn't give his personal cell number out often, so he was well aware of who had this number. There wasn't a single person worth his time that would realistically be calling from an unsaved number.

However, a split second later he realized that he hadn't heard from you for a bit longer than usual.

He cracked a grin the second the robot started speaking, informing him that he was receiving a call from his incarcerated lover.

When the line connected, he spoke first.

"Having a good time, sweetie?"

You could hear the smirk in his voice through the phone, which only added to your annoyance. "Sylus. Please come pick me up,"

"Of course,"

When he arrived to retrieve you, he learned that it was an assault charge. You'd beat up a man nearly twice your size, apparently, and a witness had described you as a menace.

As the two of you exited the building, he looped an arm around your shoulders, asking the only question he cared to ask: "Did he deserve it?"

"Absolutely," You responded. "I'd do it again, actually,"

He chuckled, shaking his head with a fondness reserved for only you. He knew that you were the type to stand on business, and he loved that about you. He was honestly a little proud, even.

"Let's not make this a habit, though." He said, gently tugging your motorcycle helmet over your head. "Stick with me more. You wouldn't have gotten caught,"

[sinking-in-a-gentle-pool-of-wine]

Not When I’m Here // Sebastian Sallow x Reader

Things feel off as you two hike up the shadow of the mountain, but Sebastian may not be so oblivious as he seems.

Word Count: 1950 (oops)

(All characters 18+ & warning: descriptions of pain)

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

You loved exploring with Sebastian. Taking on daring adventures with him felt less scary, somehow. You supposed it was simply for the added artillery. And yet, quests with Natty or Poppy just didn't feel quite as... thrilling.

You enjoyed their company, of course, but it felt even better with Sebastian. There was a great air of mischief about him--you had never met someone like him. Your friends in your house were clever, of course, being Ravenclaw, but Sebastian could voice the thoughts in your head before you'd decided to speak them.

This particular expedition, however, felt tenser than usual, for some reason. Usually, Sebastian was unnervingly good at dissipating your fears just as they arose, throwing out some quip that you'd wish you'd come up with first. But tonight, the lines on his face were like stone, and the occasional comment he made felt forced. Like he was speaking to you only out of obligation. Your trek up the switchbacks felt particularly grueling.

"Thestrals overhead," you heard Sebastian say from over your shoulder. "Some consider them a bad omen."

"Hmm," you started, feeling mutinous. "Not everyone does."

You sensed rather than heard Sebastian sigh. You could also feel his glare at the back of your head, but you refused to give in and turn to look back at him.

"I know that," he said slowly, angrily.

You were just about ready to burst, and you gave a heaving sigh of your own in response, baiting him.

"All right."

"I'm making small talk," he shot back. "I'm not going to trek up this mountain in silence."

Since when do we need small talk?!, you wanted to yell at him, but you bit your tongue, continuing the trudge. The silence grated at your nerves, made every snapping twig the fell of a goblin's boot, every rustle of leaves a curse cast in your direction. The typical sense of surety you had grown to expect from Sebastian was gone, and it left you on edge.

Finally, you felt the ground begin to level out. A plateau, perhaps, or maybe, Merlin-willing, the summit.

"Kill any who trespass," you heard the sneer of a goblin up ahead, and you halted in your tracks, ready to cast a disillusionment spell on yourself. You turned to Sebastian, expecting to see him doing the same, when he sprinted past you.

"Let's go!" he shouted, not looking back at you as he careened ahead.

"Wait! We should have some sort of plan," you hissed back.

"I'm through planning," he ground out, before disappearing around an outcropping of rock.

You swore, hiking your robes up to run after him. Merlin knows what--or how many--was waiting for you on the other side.

You rounded the corner, and a blast of red whizzed by, narrowly missing you. A shriek escaped your lips as you took in the frenzy of light around you. There were so many, and you couldn't see Sebastian anywhere amongst them.

"Sebastian!" you shouted, and a few of the goblins that weren't already stumbling in your direction turned to you with sinister grins on their faces.

"If it ain't the little wizard who's been mucking with our work," one of them grunted.

He then turned the bright shade of red of a charged spell, and you only had a moment to throw up a protego before he was already on you, his enlarged form blocking your vision, the grisly details of his face shimmering purple through your shield. As he was pushed back by your block, you released and shot back with confringo.

As he burned, you froze another of his compatiots with a glacius, proceeding to slice him in half with diffindo, watching the shards catching the light of spells and shining different colors. You then felt a slice of pain on your arm and turned to see the first goblin, flames still licking up his armor, with a knife now dripping with your blood.

You felt your face twist into a grimace before you blasted him with a basic cast, then another, and another. Then with some distance between you, you shot a bombarda at him, catching a few others in the blast.

"Ha ha!" you heard from behind you. "Take that, goblin scum!"

You turned to see Sebastian engaged with another goblin or four, a wild grin on his face. He didn't appear to be injured, and he was handling himself fine in the current duel, so you turned back to face your own foes. The adrenaline running only partially kept your brain busy from the nagging feeling that you two still weren't in sync. You took out enemies as a combined force, not as two separate entities fighting their own battles.

Nevertheless, this battle had to be won. So, you shoved your anxieties down and readjusted your grip on your wand.

A troll had found its way into the campsite, and it now loomed in your vision. You threw ancient magic at it, pummeling its strong exterior. Bombarda and diffindo and confringo couldn't cut through its thick skin, no matter how much of yourself you threw into your movements and spoken incantations. You felt beads of sweat forming on your face and had to resist the urge to smear them off. You couldn't afford the break in rhythm. As you dodged one of the troll's attacks, you rolled right into the path of a goblin.

"What do we have here?" he sneered, grabbing your injured arm and hoisting you up in an iron grip. You couldn't stop yourself form wincing as your wand fell out of your hand.

"No!" you shouted, fighting violently against his hold. But no matter how erratically you thrashed, he held your arm firmly as he dragged you away from the heat of the battle and towards an opening in one of their tents.

Why doesn't he just kill me here? you thought to yourself. What does he--or Ranrok--have planned for me?

The worst images you could conjure popped up unbidden in your mind, and your efforts increased tenfold.

"Quit your flailing!" the goblin shouted at you, striking your leg with his blunt weapon. You felt bones crack and cried out despite yourself. Bile rose in your throat as spots blotted your vision.

As you watched Sebastian fending off the last of the goblins and turn to face the troll, you accepted that he wouldn't notice your disappearance. Or he'd be glad to be rid of you.

Good. You would fight your way out of Ranrok's clutches alone. You didn't need his help. He was the one who got you into this mess in the first place--refused to craft a plan with you.

"Ranrok has plans for you, miss goody-two-shoes," the goblin gloated. "But he never said he wanted you delivered to him undamaged."

You heard him unsheathe a blade and caught the glimmer of light off its wickedly sharp edge. The bile threatened to come out.

As Sebastian rolled away from the troll's club as it struck the ground, you caught him looking around frantically. When he turned his head far enough to spot you in the goblin's grip, his face altered. That nonchalant smug smirk he had worn during the duel had dropped altogether, and his skin paled. Then turned to stone, stuck in a fierce glare.

He whipped his wand to strike the troll with one last bombarda, not bothering to watch the troll fall to the ground, shaking the earth beneath them. He sprinted in your direction, and the goblin, spotting him, laughed.

"You silly boy," the goblin mocked, raising his weapon and dropping you to the ground.

Before you could even try to scramble up with your shattered leg, Sebastian raised his wand at the goblin.

"CRUCIO!" he shouted, the word ripping out of his mouth. The spell shot from his wand with a crackle like lightning, striking the goblin square in the chest. He fell to the ground beside you, crying in agony, begging for it to stop. And you watched, unmoving, before you felt gentle hands on your shoulder and elbow, inviting you up off the gound.

"Come on," Sebastian urged. "We have to get out of this clearing."

The second you were on your feet, though, your leg collapsed under your weight, and you fell into Sebastian.

"My... leg," you groaned as he caught you.

"What did he do to you?" Sebastian demanded.

"He just..." you gulped, "I'm fine. Shouldn't you..?"

You gestured with your free arm back to the goblin, still writhing on the ground. Sebastian turned slightly, still holding you up, and pointed his wand in the goblin's direction.

"Diffindo!" he cast, and you heard a clean slice--the moaning stopped.

Sebastian pocketed his wand. He then scooped you up and began striding further away. You wanted to protest that you didn't need to be carried, but you knew it would only be harder for him to help you walk. This way was easier, but you still felt like a burden.

He said nothing as the two of you quickly gained distance from the scene of the battle. His jaw was tense, and he didn't look at you. You tried to avoid watching him, glancing up at the night sky to try and recognize a constellation or two. He shifted his arms, and you felt yourself wince involuntarily. It was then that he finally shot you a look of concern--or of pain? You furrowed your brow. Something was bothering you.

"Why did you cast the Cruciatus Curse on him?" you asked.

He turned to look straight ahead again.

"I just--I looked over and saw his hands on you, and..." he trailed off and cleared his throat.

"He was going to hurt you," he finished, matter-of-factly.

He found a patch of grass on which to set you, and he began scrutinizing the still-bleeding wound on your arm.

"I get hurt all the time," you argued. "Every enemy I run into wants to hurt me in some way. Most of them do.”

"Not when I'm here."

He conjured up a strip of gauze and gently rolled back your sleeve. You couldn't stand it. You pulled back your arm a bit more roughly than you'd intended, and heard Sebastian make a discontented sound. You looked up to see his face flush, and you stared him down.

"Don't act like you really care. You couldn't hardly look at me before you charged into that goblin horde, and now you're wanting to bandage up my wounds?"

His mouth hardened into a line, and his jaw started working as he cast his eyes back to his hands. The gauze was partially connected to your arm, but the roll was still in his hands. He gripped the roll tighter, but said nothing.

"Perhaps I should do this on my own," you said.

His eyes flew back to yours, panicked.

"What? That's not what I--no. You can't--you--I...”

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. You didn't even know if you really meant that. It was bad enough with the trials; you couldn't bear the thought of continuing without Sebastian entirely.

"You need me," he said, almost like he regretted it.

You scoffed, rolling your eyes at his boldness and making movement to get back on your feet--away from him. He caught your hand in both of his, the gauze dangling off your arm between you two.

"And I need you."

Something in his tone made you look back up to see him looking straight at you. His eyes were earnest, searching yours, and his mouth had softened from that hard line and now turned slightly downwards at the edges.

"I... I'm sorry," he continued. "I don't know what's gotten into me, but... when I thought you were... I--we're supposed to be a team. I want to be your team--I mean. I am on your team. Or you're mine. Or..."

You smiled despite yourself.

"Seb," you interrupted. "I get it. And it's all right."

You poked his leg with your good leg's foot.

"Now let's get me off the bench, coach," you said, nodding to your other leg.

He smiled a smile brighter than moonstone and continued wrapping your gauze.

[crimsonhydrangeavn]

How would the cast handle MCs toxic/abusive parents that happen to get back in contact after MC managed to separate themselves from them?

Ohh! This is a pretty interesting ask, especially considering some of the Li's have horrible relationships with their own parents. Garret's first reaction would be to charm the pants off of your parents. Take them out for a nice dinner, show them around the island, and finally convince them that you're in good hands with him and that he'll take care of you from that point on. However if for some reason that didn't work out unlikely, he would "politely" threaten them to leave you alone and never step foot on Saint Anne's again. Garret has a lot of powerful connections on the island, and he could easily make it so that they would never bother you again.

Marcelo's sweet and gentle demeanor would melt away into something far more intimidating that you ever thought possible for the gentle giant. He'd become your official bodygaurd and prevent them from ever making contact with you. He'd walk you to work, home, and anywhere else you needed to go. Hell, if they showed up on your doorstep, he'd offer to sleep on your couch if you requested it.

Camilla would happily get into a fight with your parents if they tried to bother you/ take you back. She knows her rights, as long as she doesn't swing first, everything she would do after could easily be described as self defense. She'd also carry around pepper spray just in case someone wanted to "cause trouble". If they ever returned after that, despite the charges and restraining order she personally would have filed, she would show them the video of them attacking her, threatening to leak it on line and completely ruin whatever reputation they had left. God help them if they were stupid enough to continue bothering you after the fact.

Rita would try to be level headed about the situation and be the voice of reason, however given that she's been in a similar situation before it would be hard to stay calm. She'd probably insist that you move in with her until they gave up trying to contact you. She'd also press trespassing charges and file for a restraining order if they ever tried to set foot in her store to harass you. Even though she's relatively new on the island, a lot of her regulars come from powerful and important families, so she could easily pull a few strings to have people patrol the area just in case.

Teagan would use them to their advantage. Growing up Teagan did everything they could to ingratiate themselves to your parents. After all, why wouldn't they try to get along with their future in-laws? Teagan would put the ball in your court, either get back with Teagan and they can get rid of your parents, or Teagan would simply sit back and watch them torment you until you break and inevitably go back home with them. It's a win win for Teagan really. Either way they get you back off of the island and they can worm their way back into your heart from the comfort of your hometown.

[confessthysiins]

[ let go ] after holding onto receiver's hand for a while, sender finally, reluctantly releases their grip

THE ROMANCE OF HANDS & TOUCH. / OPEN.

It’s a short ride from the police station to the waterside where Oswald parks the car. They rode in a tense, pained silence, the rumble of the engine and the quiet song of crooners on the radio their only reprieve from it’s seeming eternity. He didn’t know what to say, and he warrants Miriam didn’t either.

He’d gotten the call around 1 A.M. “ I’m sorry, ” Miriam had answered through dry sobs. “ I didn’t know who else to call. ” She’d been found huddled at the back of a Corolla in an old dealership in the industrial district, a cold girl just looking to spend the night anywhere with a door, with a lock. So Oswald had thrown on his coat and left the comforts of sleep for the station. “ I’ll be right there, dear. Just give me a few minutes, ” he had said, voice uncharacteristically rough with the unexpected waking. He’d driven safely despite the web of feelings being spun in his gut as though by a great spider. He was worried, of course - they’d taken her in on trespassing charges, but surely she didn’t have any ID. Had they checked her bag and inevitably found drugs? Had they been rough with her, or at all uncouth? He found it hard to stomach the thought of her alone in a holding cell, her only crime having sought shelter in the frigid night.

He’d been at the station by 1:30 A.M. Only a few minutes after talking to the officer in charge they were already gone. Miriam hadn’t hugged him when she’d been released, hadn’t spoken at all while they remained inside. She’d been quiet, apologetic in her silence. She looked tired and hungry, like a lost child, or a martyr. The cops teased them about the fancy car. Oswald escorted her out with an arm around her shoulders.

“ How’d you do it? ” she had asked as he opened the passenger door of the Cadillac for her. “ What do you mean? ” He sat himself. “ Get me out, I mean. How’d you do it? ” “ I lied, ” he had answered so naturally. He didn’t tell her that he said he was her father.

They’d pulled up at a drive-through on the harbor ( “ You look like you’d eat me if I gave you the chance, ” he’d said, surely meaning to tease, but his tone was tired and she found it unnerving. ) For himself Oswald took only a black coffee. In the confessional darkness of the car, Miriam apologized again. “ I must have woken you up. ” “It’s alright, dear. I told you you could always call me if there was an emergency, after all. I’m just glad I could be there. ” He’d sighed as they drove away. He sounded exhausted. Did he resent her for this? Maybe he’d have her make it up to him, somehow. She wasn’t sure how to feel about the thought.

It’s almost 2 A.M. now. They’re parked by the waterside under the cold halide lamps, at a small quay where older locals liked to fish and younger ones liked to smoke weed and make out. The pavement is strewn with broken glass. A drunk had puked up his night’s excess at the very edge of the cement. It’s just the two of them now. Oswald turns the key and the engine’s purr dies with a hot sigh. He clears his throat as he exits the car, closing his black wool coat about himself. Miriam follows him, her demureness reminiscent of the quiet apologia that follows an argument. 

He leans against the front bumper of the car, a cigarette in one hand, the other roaming his pockets. When he sighs mist enshrouds him in gold, white hair yellowed by the streetlights. “ Here I am, ” he smiled, the ghost of impatience ruining his usual genuinity, “ up at 2 A.M., smoking by the bay like a teenager. I havn’t smoked in years, you know? ” he adds, the patting at his pockets growing frustrated. “ Say, Miriam, dear, have you got a light? ” That was what he said. But what she heard was, You always find a way to bring out the worst in me. She looks out to the water, star-specked with the cityscape’s myriad lights. She gives him the lighter anyway. “ Thanks, darling. ”

He offers her one before lighting his own cigarette up, takes a long drag, head thrown back in the pleasure of old habit. Miriam fiddles with her bag. “ Come, ” he tells her, and she obeys, though she dares not look into his eyes. He’s tired and resentful, and she’s just waiting for the thunder of his anger to strike. But it never does. When he leans in close to light her up she shivers like soft grass before lightning. A smoky exhale trails behind him as he redresses, but something holds him back. Miriam’s hand is closed on his, holding the lighter. She doesn’t care for the trinket. Wet eyes are fixed on him, puffy with dried tears. She tugs ever so lightly at him, soft fingers searching for his own, thin and bony. This is her begging: Please, my God, let me have this. Just a moment, let me have this. And then I will ask for nothing more.

“ Miriam… Oh, Miriam. ”

He looks sad, with his white hair falling on his sunken face, when his thumb moves to caress hers, a soft and lithe touch, the only kind he can afford himself lest he forgive reason and embrace her. Poor lonely Miriam, with no one in the world but him. Right there in her icy eyes, he can see it so clearly. Right there alone by the dark water and the shining city lights he’s all she has. In another life, he kisses her hard and fast. But in this one, he slowly unwraps her hand from his, pulls away from the closest they’ve ever been to breaking. He cannot be her everything, can’t afford to throw it all away for her, skinny girl with her beautiful gaze that chills like winter, for her fascinating black-hole desires and all consuming, all consummating love. But he can at least bear her hurts, for now. He steps away, cigarette burning between cold lips, sighs as his hands reluctantly quit hers to hide in his coat. He closes his eyes, face like a mask of death under the lights, as another smoke-heavy exhale hides him, if briefly, from her burning own. 

“ I have to make a call. Would you wait in the car for me? ”

When he sits next to her again in the darkness the well of emotions in her ragged throat is unbearable. Touch me, she thinks, do anything you want, but please don’t hate me. Please don’t hate me. In silence he puts in his key and the engine roars to life. She’s been good, she’s been obedient. Surely he’ll forgive her her small transgression, her tentative peek beyond the boundaries of their doctor-patient relationship. “ Where are we going? ” she asks sheepishly. When he answers he fails to hide a certain irritation in his tired voice. “ I have a conference tomorrow-” a flick of his wrist as he checks the time, “ four hours from now. Damned Europeans. I’d like to get at least a little bit of sleep until then. ” She feels guilty, but says nothing.

“ Don’t worry, ” he tells her as they roll up on the highway. “ I've found you somewhere for tonight. ” She doesn’t ask what will become of her. After what he did for her tonight, he’d still be a saint for leaving her on a street corner to wander till morning. But he doesn’t. He doesn’t talk any more, nor looks at her. He just drives home.

[aisling-saoirse]

Your photos of the dried lakebed are amazing, do you think you will return in the future? I wish I could visit...

I'll certainly try if more areas open up next week!

Extra info: Nearly all reservoirs in Northern NJ are nearly empty right now. For monksville/wanaque (my recent ones) due to fire damage (map below) and dry boat launches nearly everything is closed with heavy police surveillance (they will charge you with trespassing anywhere EXCEPT Long Pond Ironworks right now)

If you're near NJ and able to visit (sorry anon) here are some public spots to see dry reservoirs this winter

Oak Ridge Reservoir - Parking near Rt 23 on reservoir rd, this one has a cool bridge exposed you can walk to, but be mindful of the Newark Water Dept Security

Spruce Run Reservoir, Clinton - Pretty accessible, my partner takes their dogs here

Wanaque, Ringwood NJ - Along Stonetown rd there are some good overlook hikes, you can't go near the water in anyway aside from along a road

[the-firebird69]

Trump is trying to say his child is in limbo and it's not true it's really far away he's appealing something the decision that they trial should happen he said it's several times and it's in Superior Court and there is only one more level and say no this is federal court and if he fails here it stops but the trial continues. And we can do it too it's really not hard when we doing it back till the whole time. There's a second part to this he's saying that the trial is hung up because of the federal government and the federal court and it's a different court and it's a different case and it has a bearing on this case and of course the results are going to be important to the case but it won't be cut and dry and our son already addressed it and people already know and already researched it and it's for some different aspects of it where they were trespassing more or less they want to charge them with the breaking in and they want to charge them with assaulting congressman and senators and Trump says this is the break I'm waiting for and if he's not guilty of that then they say that he can't be guilty of an insurrection it's not correct and they've been doing it the whole time charging people with breaking and entering and killing a cop and they have been successful at it and it doesn't say anywhere that the Julia because it was an insurrection as a matter of fact they separated it out and the guy is a lunatic okay he's screaming and yelling like a little baby you know we want order here and if you refuse to do that you're going to be incinerated you don't have any freaking knowledge of what you're doing at all in your pork and loser you need it to get out of the way and you won't and the other way of your people so your people don't want you to shouting and screaming in the whole stupid thing to everybody either oh no there's a few other things going on but that is the majority of what is happening and a lot of people are in trouble because they don't listen to logic so really he is for another and they keep presenting this stuff it's Trump I'm saying you know we want this and we're telling you this and he's a huge ass and our son always says what it is and the guy kind of knows he usually knows what the truth is dumb. So he's doing it as a threat and it's like now and you find out that other people are doing as part of a stupid program and it is dumb because he doesn't know they are what they're saying is very flash point say two or three things so what we say is what you're doing is harassing him and threatening him and trying to extort and you're going to lose this thing came up with the Terminator and there are a whole bunch of movies happening now that make it happen and he is not feeling that great about it and he shouldn't and our son says once that place is blown up you won't stay in the way of my money from the investment company and my lawyer will be able to get it out and he says it's more to it and what we say is just not much more to it because they know you're in the way and it will look like he's extorting the money out because you're exploded and that's what Tommy f wants it to look like and that sun doesn't care Tommy f is going down to River for his crimes regardless it's not really hard to figure out he goes around town talking about it and that's Tommy f blabbing but he's in and out of reality and he wants to try and blame her son for it he's going to try and get the money to him that really it has a purpose and he's going to try and move him around to try and threaten him to try and get stuff and he can't get it when he's over here if he's saying it's not big enough is actually true

Thor Freya

Olympus

Zues Hera it's funny as hell because Bill sounds like my husband and I sound like Preston and it went on for a while and he came in and could you stop sounding like her it's bad enough this big idiot sounds like me and Big Joe is interrupting and saying that's enough he says yeah I think Preston gets it so it's kind of funny Big Joe is saying no not that part but I do see what you're saying nope Preston is not getting it it's funny I learned to talk from him a little and they learn to talk like that from ours and you learn to talk that way from a Thor and Freya a little mostly Thor so it sounds ridiculous to a lot of people and hilarious

[thxnymph]

Renata listened to the notes of this man's voice. Rough, deep. She could not discern anything from it. Her heels dug into the old wood, so much so she was sure she would break right through. Her busted knuckles ached as her grip in the knife tightened. Skin tore apart slowly, revealing dry, bloody crevices. "Doesn't matter. This is my property and you're trespassing." She called out from her position. If she was correct, there was about a hallway between her and him. Ample space to shoot with her pistol, but wood offered weak protection against the bullets that might follow. Bullshit. She thought, as the man proclaimed his intention to leave.

Sun light moved over the wall ever so slowly. Golden orange sprayed over the white walls. When the darkness draped over them, it would harder for Renata to see him. The dark carried that suffocating presence, rendering it's victims powerless in the absence of light. "Who are you?" The dark haired woman questioned, but the odds of her getting an answer were slim.

The scent hit her like a semi truck. Mint. She could recognize that scent anywhere, even if she were blindfolded. Renata closed her eyes, trying her best not to react to it. It was her husband's cologne. Well, her fiancée to be more correct. They never got the chance to officially tie the knot, but the couple had long since started to call each other 'husband' and 'wife'. A memory materialized in her mind. Alejandro, getting ready for the day, would spray a generous amount of it on himself. Whenever he wrapped his arms around Renata, she buried her nose into it. It was a cold, minty freshness.

Something clicked just then. This stranger used that cologne. He raided her home, and helped himself to anything he found. Even her husband's things. A deep feeling within her stomach brewed. How dare he? Her throat closed up, eyes teared in frustration, and her heart continued the rapid, threatening beat it took on before. She'd had enough. Renata moved quickly. She let out a singular shot, aiming for a vase on top of the kitchen book shelf. A loud crack echoed through the house. Renata took the opportunity, letting the sound of crashing glass provide some cover, and charged towards the man.

Was she at a disadvantage, upon seeing the man's weapon? Yes. But she would not go down without a fight.

   𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐍 𝐈𝐒 𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆;   a burnt umber orb,  lowering behind the deepening horizon.  The evil which reigns will begin its ensemble soon.  A chorus of croaking, and clicking.   A dance, twitching, to its own symphony, until interrupted by the sound of its prey—its living predecessor—and then:  violence.

   Reuven hears the call of this homeowner's voice like some muffled song;   His blood pressure is rioting against veins.  Pupils have widened on their own accord, for he is ready to sacrifice anything, to keep this loot of nourishment.  It is the first bit of calories he's encountered in at least a week.  The edible vegetation did seem to dwindle out the farther one got from dirt and spuds.   So did the insects,  of whom burrowed their bodies into soil and crevice to evade his lunchtime pursuits.   No, he would do anything to finish this grand feast.

   The buttstock of his carbine lifts,  in hoisting,  over his back and into the nook of his shoulder,  where the man lifts barrel to the center of his vision.   He sees,  deadpan,  like tiger to deer,  searching.   A moment passes, and then he speaks to the woman again.   "Doesn't have your name on it,"   he calls back,  in as non-threatening a tone as he can muster.   "Don't want no trouble.   'L just grab my things,  and I'll be on my way."   His forefinger rests in waiting on trigger, and footsteps fall silent beneath his weight as he takes measured steps to the adjacent wall,   where his back meets the paint, and waits for her voice again.   Where was she?   His senses attune into hearing, to gauge where the other survivor stands.   The decision to kill her is so immediate, because he does not believe in humanity anymore.   He only believes in this.   The hot cascade of shower.   The bountiful food on the counter.   Water droplets fall forward from his dark curls, upon chapped and lacerated lips.   His inhales are calm;  purposeful. Show yourself,  he thinks.   An arm,  a leg.

[hargrove-mayfields]

Day three of @harringroveweek!

I chose Hopper’s Locked Office at Hawkins Police Station for today’s prompt!

This might be the first time Steve’s been in this police station and not actually been the one in trouble. Not that he’s ever personally been in the Chief's office before, usually just getting a slap on the wrist at the front desk and sent on his way while whatever lousy friend he had by his side took the heat. The unwanted luxury of having well known parents.

But that’s where he is now, here on his own accord- well, not fully, his mother sent him down here to file a report, but at least he’s not been arrested -across from a seemingly disinterested Hopper.

It’s the Chief, slouched back in his oversized chair, who’s the first to speak after reading over the claim, in a tone that’s stiff with annoyance, “Why didn’t you come to me with this sooner?”

“You were busy. And I was in the hospital.” Steve doesn’t mention that he couldn’t give a damn less about pressing charges. His excuses are scripted and he’s just as bored with this as Hopper is. Just here to uphold the family name.

His comment still earns him a scoff, “For what, a few hours? It wasn’t even that bad.”

“He could’ve killed me.” Now, that is something Steve will stand by. He might be mostly over it, but for a few nights after the fight he was pretty sure he was going blind, the pain in his head lasting for weeks still after that.

But the Chief is unmoved, pointing out bluntly, “So could’ve a lot of things. Honestly, I think the least of your problems right now, or ever, is Billy Hargrove, alright?”

And whether or not Steve actually wants to see bullshit justice this long after the fact, he still thinks he has the right to be offended by the Chiefs blatant refusal to hear him out, “Whose side are you on, Hop?“

“Nobody’s. I’m a cop, kid. Legally, I don’t take sides.”

“So you can’t do anything?”

To prove his point, Hopper closes the file, which is really just a Manila folder with two pieces of paper in it put together by Steve’s mother, leaning over it on the desk in that overbearing honesty kind of way that cops seem to do when they think they’re right, “I could. But I’m not going to. I don’t care if that kid broke every bone in your goddamn face. It’s a four month old case. It’s not going to go anywhere if we bring it up now. Come back when you have something relevant.”

“Can’t you at least press charges on him for breaking into the Byers houses? And you know, assaulting me?” Now he just sounds like a brat, but he’s got to at least try to make his case. Being told no only seems to have reignited tucked away feelings he thought he’d forgotten about that night.

“You were also trespassing, technically.” The way he tears apart Steve’s argument, it’s like he’s done this before. Steve has to consider for a moment that maybe this wasn’t the first time Hop heard the story, and maybe Billy Hargrove had done this same thing in this very office. His defense is way up now, thinking about having something in common with the asshole getting him more worked up.

Hopper cuts him off before he can let those feelings fester into another poorly thought out appeal, “Besides, the story I heard says you lied to him about where his sister was. If that was one of my daughters in that house, and some punk like you was on the other side of the door, believe me kid, I would have beat your ass too. You might not have walked away though.”

Ouch. Steve didn’t think of it that way before, and the fact that Hopper is bringing it up has to just be bad faith, right? He argues, “I was just trying to protect her.”

“From what, exactly? Being taken back home to safety where her mother could look after her instead? Real good job of that you did by taking her into the poisonous underground to fight flesh-eating monsters, by the way. Because that was a much safer option than her brother driving her home at a decent hour and avoiding all that conflict.”

“I guess when you put it like that..” Steve trails off. It’s true the Chief isn’t wrong about that, and even more glaringly obvious that he isn’t going to change his mind about it.

Hopper reiterates the unspoken, “Yeah, it ain’t a good look. So cut Hargrove a little slack, because remember, he doesn’t know shit about any of our otherworldly problems, and that only makes that situation a thousand times worse.”

“But-“ Steve tries to argue, his mind racing too fast with this new information to come up with a solid defense, but it doesn’t really matter anyways, because Hopper starts again.

“From his perspective, what he did was to protect his family, just like you thought you were protecting yours. I won’t waste valuable police time pursuing Hargrove over nothing. That’s final.”

He’s right. Steve doesn’t know what else to say. But he doesn’t get up either. Now he’s got to fret about what he’s going to tell his mother about this disastrous attempt at making things right. The last thing he needs is for her to come in here and do it herself. She’d probably try to pay the Chief off, or fake some medical records, or maybe-

Someone knocks on the door to the office, interrupting Steve’s spiraling thoughts, and whoever it is doesn’t wait for an answer to open it. Hopper's face changes to an expression that’s some frustrating cross between smugness and interest, that’s got Steve looking over his shoulder to see who it is.

Instantly, he looks away, snapping back to staring at the desk. Steve wants to crawl out of his skin when he sees who it was.

“Well, speak of the devil.”

Of course, none other than Billy fucking Hargrove would step into this room at this exact moment. Steve doesn’t look back, but he can tell from the way his heavy, booted footfalls stop just short of the door, that Billy’s just as shocked to see him there, confirmed when the other asks sarcastically, “S’it a bad time, chief?”

Brighter than Steve’s ever seen the man, and obviously scheming something, Hopper encourages, “Nope. Come on in.”

“The hell’s Harrington doing here?” Billy remarks, pulling out the extra chair and lazing down into it, kicking his feet up onto the desk like he owns the place.

“I was just leaving, actually.“ Steve makes a move to stand, but the Chief holds up his hand, the universal signal of get your punk ass back in that chair. He sinks down further than before, feeling weirdly confronted just by being in the room with Hopper and Hargrove at the same time. He stays quiet.

“He wanted to press charges against you. Sure you know what for.” Hopper explains, earning Steve a harsh glare from Billy, that the Chief quickly explains away, “Don’t get like that, kid. I told him no.”

After that it's clear neither of them really want to talk about it, the room deathly silent other than the sound of the strain of old leather boots tapping anxiously against an old tweed carpet.

As per his strange demeanor since that knock, Hopper fills the silence, “Why���d you come here today, Hargrove?”

Looking appalled that he'd even ask that of him, Billy scoffs, “Not saying it in front of him.”

So in paralleled bluntness, Hopper counters, “Too bad, because I ain’t kicking him out yet. You two need to talk about your shit so I can stop hearing about it every other goddamned day.”

“Excuse me, what?” Steve interjects, confused by so many things, the familiarity between Hopper and Hargrove for starters. Like this is something they’ve done before, talking about Steve included. It’s an uneasy thought.

But he doesn’t get an answer. Hop stands, replaces his hat on his head, and walks to the door in lieu of an answer, “I’m takin’ a break. You two work this out before I get back. I don’t want to have to consider bringing those charges back up on the both of you, alright?”

“Wait, Hop-“ Steve tries to argue, apparently entirely unconvincing as the door slams in their faces. At the same time, Billy muttered an exasperated, “Yessir.”

Somehow, it’s not surprising to Steve that Billy is more accustomed to police station etiquette than himself.

Immediately that long, expansive silence returns, stretching for a good twenty minutes until it’s apparently too much for Hargrove, who sits upright and turns to fully face Steve, asking in a demeanor that reads entirely confusing, like a cross between aggressive and curious, “You really that hard pressed about the face?”

“Yeah, I am. I missed the end of the season over it. I have every right to be upset.” God, Steve just knows he sounds like such a stuck-up bitch saying that out loud.

“Sure.” It’s one word, but it’s dismissive and bitchy coming out of Billy’s mouth. Is that what he sounds like too?

He decides, if it wasn’t already though, he’ll make it his mission to, just to bother Hargrove back, “Don’t act like you’re better. Hop said there’s charges to be brought on both of us.”

“Yeah, ‘Cause you kidnapped Max. And I know the story she gave me about what happened is absolute bullshit. Figured, I can’t beat your sorry ass again, so I’ll take you down the legal way. But chief told me it was a misunderstanding so..” Billy lets the sentence die off, obviously unsatisfied with the conclusion. His reason sounds a lot more justified than Steve’s though.

To cover his ass, Steve tries to suggest a peace offering, “Then we’re even, aren’t we?”

Doesn’t land.

“That ain’t how it works, Harrington.”

“What else do you want from me? To say I’m sorry?“

“Apologizing doesn’t make up for holding little girls hostage.”

“That’s not what happened. But honestly, why does it even bother you so much? It’s not like you actually give a shit about Max.” Steve accuses, increasingly frustrated by Billy’s inability to just listen, with it his defense rising as well.

Billy grits his teeth, Steve’s accusation a gut-punch to an already tender spot, “You don’t know a damned thing about it, Harrington.”

“I know she told me you’d kill her if you saw her that night. Doesn’t sound like something a caring older brother would do.”

“Guess what happened, Harrington. I did catch her and the only ones who got their asses beat was you and me. Clearly she was being dramatic.”

“Maybe she learned that from you, since you’re the one throwing around accusations and shit. I didn’t do anything. I was just watching after those kids.”

“Even if that were true, I know she’s not stupid enough to just run off to hang out with a creep like you. So no amount of ‘but nothing even happened’ will ever make me trust your ass.” Billy starts and doesn’t stop, their petty, repetitive arguing coming to a culmination, a moment of real emotional appeal instead of just childish he-said, she said bullshit, “I needed answers and your dumbass lying to my face landed me in the fucking ER, so thanks for still being too fucking stubborn to admit what you did.”

It was a given that Billy would snap eventually, but it’s what he says that catches Steve way off guard, “Hold on, let’s backtrack here; you were hospitalized?”

“You heard me. Don’t tell me you really live in world where none of the fucked up shit you do has consequences?” Billy sneers, almost mocking him.

Equally defensive as he is just not sure what Hargrove is talking about, Steve exclaims, “I barely even touched you!”

“Who said you did?” Billy actually explains this time, pointing to a scar in his eyebrow that Steve hadn’t even noticed before, “Got this from my old man when I brought Max home after curfew, high off of whatever drugs you had laying around that house. -Which is, as I probably already mentioned, super fucking suspicious, Harrington.”

That doesn't really clarify everything, at least not in Steve’s mind, “I don’t get it.”

“Of course you don’t. Let me spell it out for you, since you’re so fucking dense.” Billy’s tone drops, and it’s like he’s talking to a child, overexplaining with way too much emphasis on every other word, “My thirteen year old step sister goes missing. My ex-mil dad comes home and knocks me one for not watching her. I go out and find her on the other side of town, with you. But instead of bringing her home then, I get sedated and don’t wake up for a few more hours. My car gets stolen and wrecked before then, so by the time I stumble home barely conscious at three in the fucking morning with a dented car and a crying sister who can’t exactly seem to put into words what she saw while she was missing, my dad who was already pissed, is even more endlessly pissed now. And I think you can infer what fucking happened next, Harrington.”

And yeah, he absolutely can. He honestly feels kind of stupid for not putting that together in the first place. Interested, but trying to change the subject to avoid some of that heat, Steve asks, “Is that why you’re here now?”

“Oh, this? Just knocked myself in the head with a door again, is all.” Billy’s words are absolutely oozing with sarcasm, which Steve might say is well deserved at this point, “No shit that’s why I’m here.”

“This is probably gonna be obvious again but I have to ask. If you’ve told the police your father.. you know.. hits you, then why don’t they do anything?”

“Worked out a deal with the chief. I don’t want them locking my old man away for a little old fashioned discipline. That’s just stupid.” Billy sounds serious about that, Steve can tell if not just because of how much of his bad attitude and lies have been thrown into his face lately. It really makes him feel for the other boy, as he explains the situation, “But I have to tell Hop whenever it happens, and he gets to decide if it’s bad enough he wants to do something about it.”

Whatever he’s going through is a lot more difficult than what’s going on on Steve’s end of things. Suddenly his mom forcing him to come down to the police station and give a half-hearted statement seems a lot more trivial. He wants to make things right.

“You don’t mind that they’re interfering in your personal shit? I mean, isn’t that why you’re so pissed at me?” That’s a genuine question, and it earns him a genuine answer from Billy, who sounds more upset than angry at this point, “It’s different, alright?”

“If shit hits the fan and somebody other than me gets hurt, I like having Hopper on speed dial. Then the second that fucker raises a finger to Max or Susan, he’s done. That happens to be a lot different from you kidnapping my sister and causing trouble for all of us in my book.”

“So you didn’t do it for yourself?”

“Hell no. I’ve been taking beatings since I was like, 10. I can handle another few months of it ‘til I’m out of Hawkins for good.” Seems a little overly optimistic considering the start of that sentence, but Steve doesn’t comment on it, just letting Billy keep explaining, “If it wasn’t for my dad and my stepmom starting to argue so much about that night, I wouldn’t have even had to say anything.”

The more open they are, the less tension there is. Maybe Hopper was right about needing to talk.

Though, hostility aside now, Steve is still intrigued by Billy’s circumstances now. Questions that aren’t really any of his business keep coming to mind, but as long as Billy keeps answering them, he’ll keep asking, “You think he’ll slip up eventually and do something bad enough for Hopper's standards?”

Billy just shrugs, “Probably. Don’t look forward to it though.”

Once the conversation reaches that dead spot, Steve decides to swallow some of his pride and truly try to make friends instead of begrudging acquaintances. Another argument doesn’t sound all that pleasant either, so he’ll take the friendship.

“Hey, you’re not half bad, Hargrove. Can we forget all the shit I said when you first walked in?” Because Steve’s been officially won over, his empathy maybe shooting him in the foot here, but as long as Billy isn’t mad at him, he can put this situation behind them.

Honestly he was ready to do that before he even came here, but this outcome might not be such a bad thing either.

Apparently, Billy agrees, “Whatever. As long as the same goes for me.”

Nothing left to argue about, an awkward silence settles over them for another few minutes until Hopper comes barging back in, with a question that confuses Steve somehow more than anything else that’s been discussed in this office today, “So? When’s the wedding?”

“C’mon, Chief-“ Billy complains, though he’s pretty much instantly cut off by Hopper, “You’ve been talking for a whole hour, and I know it was actually a conversation because I had Callahan sit right outside this door and make sure no fights broke out. So I figure, you gotta have it all sorted now, right? The venue, the date..”

“No, Hop. We’ve reached a truce. That’s it.” There’s a very specific implication here that Steve is missing. He looks between the two and doesn’t see it, doesn’t get what they’re talking about.

He’d ask, but Hopper declares first, seeming almost monotone and bored, “That’s disappointing. Be back in a few.”

And just like that, he leaves again, the lock clicking behind him once more, and the edge in the room is back to square one.

“Uh.. What was he talking about?” Steve asks, looking over to Billy for answers.

All he sees is a pale-faced, tight-shouldered Billy, who automatically explains away his question, “Who knows? The chief’s a total hack.”

Something’s going on here.

But an attempt at bringing back that short-lived moment of conviviality wins out in favor of asking more details about it, “He figured out how to make us friends despite everything. That’s not so bad.”

Billy only snaps harshly in response, “I forgave you. That doesn’t mean we’re friends all of the sudden.”

“Why not? What’s your problem with me?”

“It’s not you anymore. It’s a me problem. That also happens to be none of your business.”

“Not this again..”

“Look, Harrington. Some things are just better off kept secret. Even if I tolerate you.“

That irritates Steve, Billy's unwillingness to cooperate when not even five minutes ago they were making up. He tries to appeal to the reasonable kid that agreed to actually set aside their differences, “But wouldn’t you have said that about everything else you told me today?”

“The risk is different. Sorry I’m not kissing your ass the way you want, King Steve. I can forgive you, but I’m still my own person, and you still don’t know what kind of shit you’re dealing with here.”

“I don’t think you’re a bad person.” He can tell what Billy is getting at, even if he doesn’t understand where it came from, and he tries to shut it down, but his assurances don’t work. Billy argues, “You were literally here to press charges on me.”

Now's as good a time as any to explain himself, “Because my mom found my team pictures and wanted to know why I had stitches in my face and never told her. She didn’t buy the story about a rogue basketball, and when she found out what actually happened she freaked, and then I freaked, and then before I knew it I was here.”

“Huh. What a touching way to act like you’re on my level.” That was taken the wrong way. Steve doesn’t even feel guilty about that one knowing how much his words are being twisted here. He’s honestly more confused than anything else.

“I’m tired of arguing.”

“That’s what happens when you associate with someone like me. Got too much to hide. You’ve probably never even heard me tell the truth.”

“Gonna reiterate here, you’re not a bad person for what happened. We’re over it, yeah?”

Like he’s talking to a brick wall, every attempt at soothing the situation backfires, Billy turning every word into ammunition that cuts deep into the both of them, “Alright, I’ll bite. Sure I’m not a full blown piece of shit just for fighting for my family, but what happens when you realize I’m a con? A lying, manipulative son of a bitch that would do anything to protect his own ass in the long run. Hell, I’d kick your ass again right now if you asked a question I didn’t like. I’ve got shit you don’t want involved in, Harrington, so stop being so goddamn nosy.”

“What, are you in some gang or something?” He’s being sarcastic, a better response not coming to him, and he gets an equally as biting defense back from Hargrove, “Depends. If you count the alphabet mafia, sure.”

The smugness in his face tells Steve he’s not supposed to know what that meant. But he does. He’s a certified member himself.

His own expression must give away that he understands, because Billy’s demeanor falls, and fast, “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“It’s fine, Billy.” He tries to assure, but the other boy is panicking, “I shouldn’t have said that.“

“Is that why Hopper made that joke?” He’s somewhere between genuinely trying to understand and trying to lighten Billy’s stress. The latter answers coldly, “Doesn’t take a genius, Harrington.”

Steve tries to redirect, “Do you.. have a crush on me?”

“Way to make it sound stupid. I’m eighteen years old in a month. I don’t get crushes.”

A flicker of hope in his chest he didn’t expect from himself, Steve presses on, almost wanting his assumption to be right, “But you didn’t deny it.”

“Do I have to? What’s there to like about you?” There’s so much spite and bitterness laced into his toned Steve can tell it’s just for show. A defense mechanism against a non-existent, but somehow omnipresent, threat.

Steve decides to make his intentions fully clear then, “That’s a shame. I was going to see if you were free this weekend?”

Billy sounds skeptical, “You’re fucking with me.”

“I know it’s a pretty big deal what you just said to me. I also know I’ve never been brave enough to say that sort of thing out loud and you didn’t even really say it, so I figured you were being honest, and I could, I dunno, take my chance.” When he’s met with silence, Steve starts to worry that maybe he’s the one who misinterpreted things, and just outed himself like an idiot, “Am I being stupid again?”

“Nah. I think I am this time.” They both exhale out some of the tension, relieved to be on common ground again, this time as more than just acquaintances hopefully, since Billy suggests, “Saturdays are good for me. Don’t be over a minute before eight though. That’s when my dad leaves for work.”

“I guess it’s a date then.”

“Yeah.”

Another stretch of silence. Steve plugs, “This got super awkward..”

“Yeah.”

And another beat. There’s nothing left to say.

“I think I’m going to leave now.” Steve blurts out, standing rather suddenly, desperate to escape the awkwardness before it can ruin a relationship that doesn’t even exist yet.

Billy gives him a little nod of acknowledgement, but stays quiet this time.

Steve doesn’t like the ambiguity of that, so he prompts, “Hey, I’ll um.. see you soon.”

All he gets is the same stock answer he’s been getting for everything, a muttered, “Yeah..”

It’s something, so it’s good enough. He leaves the office, passing the Chief on his way back. If Hopper had acknowledged him, Steve would never know, so many thoughts racing through his head all at once, mainly- What the actual fuck had just happened between him and Billy goddamn Hargrove?

Steve stops just outside the door after it closes again to catch his breath, get a hold back on his bearings, overwhelmed with the speed of what just happened. From where he is, he can overhear the rest of the conversation in the Chief’s office.

“So? That took care of a good handful of the things that have been getting you down, kid. Feel better to have that weight off?”

Billy speaks much softer than Hopper, much harder to hear through the closed door, “I.. think I will be.”

“Hey, sometimes that’s all we can ask for.” It sounds like Hopper pats him on the shoulder and takes a seat, “Now if you don’t need anything else, get outta my office, kid. Go on and live a little.”

Steve thinks of how they’ll both probably heed that advice from now on. He hopes so anyways, now that the stupid grudge he didn’t really ever care for, is out of the way.

Billy shoves past him in the now open door way, throwing a harsh, “Outta my way, Harrington,” over his shoulder as he storms straight out the front door of the station.

Watching him go, hearing tires burn out as Billy peels out of the parking lot before Steve can even make it to the door, he won’t forget the vulnerability he was trusted with behind that locked door. Probably ever. He’ll hold that image close to him every time Billy has to pretend in public that he wants nothing to do with him.

Steve could maybe get used to this.

[fatehbaz]

This week [April 2021], the Montana legislature passed what is among the most, if not the most, extreme anti-pipeline protest laws in the country. Gov. Greg Gianforte, a man best known for assaulting a reporter and killing wolves, is expected to sign a bill [update: he did] into law that would criminalize protesting fossil fuel infrastructure. It would foist up to $150,000 in fines and 30 years in prison on individuals convicted of protest-related “vandalism” and $1.5 million in costs on any organizations charged as “conspirators.” Republicans legislators that have backed the bill have also singled out Indigenous-led protests as a reason for the bill [...].

Thirty states have some form of anti-fossil fuel protest laws on the books, many of which crib from the conservative American Legislative Exchange Council’s model bill to protect what’s legally known as “critical infrastructure.” But even among these laws, the Montana legislation stands out. The fines and jail time are the steepest yet, and could be imposed on a “person who willfully damages, destroys, vandalizes, defaces, or tampers with equipment in a critical infrastructure facility.” Laws criminalizing trespass and vandalism are already on the books, though. Connor Gibson, an independent researcher who runs Grassrootbeer Investigations and has tracked the bill, said in an email that “it’s the loopholes built to punish nonviolent offenders that are the crux of the legislation in Montana and most other states.” [...]

Another wrinkle to the Montana legislation is its clear targeted response to Indigenous protesters. State Rep. Steve Gunderson, the primary sponsor of the bill, invoked the protests against the Dakota Access pipeline in neighboring South Dakota as a reason for introducing the legislation. “We saw at the DAPL pipeline what can quickly happen: protestors chaining themselves to equipment,” he said at a hearing about the bill. “Protestors linking arms to ban crossing a bridge. That peaceful protest quickly changed into violent rioting, burning tires, burning vehicles, the throwing of homemade explosive pipe bombs. I’ll leave you with that visual, and the lingering smell of tear gas.” 

“Treaties are already violated up and down, Native communities are routinely ignored on matters of sovereignty, why would they start caring now?” Gibson said, referring to the Republicans who backed the bill. 

-------

Headline and all text published by: Brian Kahn. “Montana is About to Become the Most Dangerous Place in America to Protest Fossil Fuels.” Gizmodo. 30 April 2021.

-------

Montana’s new legislation, however, would allow environmental protesters to be jailed for up to 18 months if they obstruct operations at oil and gas facilities — and up to 30 years if they damage equipment. It seemed to be a direct rebuke to the Indigenous activism that had helped stop Keystone XL. [...] Despite similar testimony from several other representatives of Montana’s Indigenous communities, the bill sailed through the state’s House of Representatives and Senate, both of which have a Republican majority. [...] Kansas and Arkansas passed similar laws earlier this month, and in January Ohio Governor Mike DeWine signed a bill that makes trespassing on oil and gas properties a misdemeanor punishable with up to six months in prison and a $1,000 fine.

In total, 15 states have enacted such laws since 2017, according to the International Center for Not-for-Profit Law, a nonprofit civil liberties group that has been tracking anti-protest legislation. [...] The most common provisions in these bills include lengthening jail terms so they stretch anywhere between six months and several decades, raising fines to the tune of thousands of dollars, and financially penalizing groups that help organize protests [...]. For instance, trespassing on property with a pipeline in Arkansas is now a Class D felony punishable with up to six years in prison [...].

The Montana legislation has the backing of the Montana Petroleum Association; the Montana Association of Oil, Gas, and Coal Counties; and the chamber of commerce in Billings, the state’s largest city.

The bills also have a striking resemblance to model legislation proposed in 2017 by the American Legislative Exchange Council, a membership organization for state legislators known for drafting industry-friendly bills. The organization has taken credit for “educating” lawmakers on critical infrastructure protection in Illinois, Missouri, Ohio, Mississippi, Indiana, North Dakota, and Wyoming — all states that either considered or have since passed anti-protest laws.

-------

Headline, graphic, and text published by: Naveena Sadasivam. “Montana, Kansas, and Arkansas enter the arms race to criminalize protest.” Grist. 3 May 2021.

[raviotherabbit]

There were quite a few things Wild wanted to do this weekend. Like maybe sleep in for a bit, maybe cooking a special breakfast. They’d even been planning on visiting little Zelly, a promise that her mother was sure to scold them for not keeping.

Instead, they were rudely awoken by a rough collision with the dirt, and they quickly realized they weren’t in their soft waterbed in Zora’s Domain anymore. Blearily blinking their eyes open, Wild feels like they’ve been hit by Ruta’s Cryonis again.

They’re in the castle courtyard of Warriors’ time. Which, as they seem to recall, is tens of thousands of years removed from their own era.

“Oh great,” Wild scowls as the golden light fades behind them. Ten years since their tearful goodbyes with their fellow heroes, and all of a sudden, Hylia’s playing games again.

Wild pushes themself off the ground, dusting whatever they can off with their one arm. It’s only then, when several halberds are pointed right at their face, that they realize they have an audience.

“Stop right there!” one of the soldiers, presumably a higher ranking officer, shouts. “Put your hands in the air!”

Wild frowns, but some part of their mind still remembers Warriors’ lectures to respect authority in his era. It was always so annoying, especially since he was the only one who cared so much about how they were perceived by the guards, but the anger in his eyes after Wild’s third infraction for trespassing (it’s not like those people were USING their roofs!) was enough to convince them to behave. So, after a moment of hesitation, they raise their arm above their head.

“Both hands!” The guard juts his halberd closer to Wild’s face.

“This is all I’ve got, man.”

A lower ranking guard lifts the side of Wild’s poncho. “They’re telling the truth, sir,” they announce, gesturing to their missing right arm.

“W-well!” the officer stammers, and Wild can’t help but smirk. “Take them to a cell! Trespassing on castle grounds is no laughing matter!”

Wild rolls their eyes as one of the soldiers forcefully grabs their left arm. “You’re gonna regret this, you know.”

“Quiet you!” the senior officer snaps at them. “I’ll have no disrespect from magicians who infiltrate our defenses against the crown!”

“Fine,” Wild scoffs. “Hey, while you’re processing my intake paperwork or whatever, could you tell my brother where I am? He’ll be sooooo worried about me.”

The senior officer’s eye twitches. One of the lower ranking guards whispers, “It is protocol to inform citizens of incarcerated family members.”

“Alright! Alright!” the senior officer throws his hands up in frustration. “Just tell me and get out of here!”

“He’s the hero, Link. Ever heard of him?” Wild forces down a laugh as the officer’s face turns red. “Tell him Wild’s in prison again, and it’s not their fault this time!”

“Take them away!” the senior officer points the guard holding them towards the dungeon. “Now!”

And even though they’re being dragged into the dreaded dungeons of Hyrule Castle, Wild can’t help but laugh the entire time.

- - -

“You’re going to be in big trouble,” Wild lightly scratches at the rusty bars of their jail cell. They’re sitting on the nasty dungeon floor, legs crossed. “Seriously, it’s not too late to let me go.”

The guard stationed outside their cell sighs. “I’m not in charge of that.”

Wild huffs, pouting to themself. A little recognition wouldn’t hurt, would it? They were here all the time a decade ago! And even then, everyone knew they were with Wars. These kinds of theatrics and blunders are just rude!

“So, is Commander Link really your brother?”

Wild’s ear twitches when the guard speaks up. “Commander, huh? Wars got a promotion?”

“Uh, I-” the guard stammers. “I don’t-”

“Yeah, he’s pretty much my brother,” Wild answers. “It’s been a bit since I was in town, though.”

“YOU WHAT?!”

The shout rings through the dungeons, a shrill entitlement that Wild would know anywhere.

Wild clicks their tongue. “That’d be him,” they point their thumb towards the entrance to the dungeon. “You know, it’s been nice hanging out with you.”

“Don’t make it sound like I’m going to die.”

“I’ll put in a good word for you,” Wild promises, standing up and gripping onto one of the bars just as Warriors rounds the corner, flanked by the senior officer, who now looks flustered.

And that’s Wild’s confirmation that it’s been some time for their brother, as well. He’s sporting some well-manicured stubble, obviously, because everything about Wars is well-manicured. His hair is longer, tied back in a ponytail that reminds Wild of themself. Of course, they didn’t have a chance to do their hair before landing in the past, so it’s all loose and tangled.

“Wild?!” Warriors shouts, mostly in shock. “You’re really here?!”

“Oh thank goodness!” Wild feels like they could cry. “Wars get me out of here!”

“What are you doing here?” Wars ruffles their hair through the bars, a warm smile on both of their faces. “I thought we agreed, no more trespassing.”

“It’s not my fault, it was the portals!” Wild explains quickly. “They wouldn’t listen to me. I just woke up here!”

Hearing Wild’s poor circumstances, Wars snaps back towards the senior officer. “You ARRESTED my brother!”

“Your one-armed brother!” Wild pipes up from behind him.

“My ONE-ARMED- wait,” Warriors turns back to Wild, his tone suddenly soft as he looks at them with concern. “You lost your arm?”

Wild stares at Warriors blankly. “Don’t tell Twilight.”

“I’m not-!” Wars sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “How would I even tell him?”

Wild simply shrugs.

“We’re talking about this later,” Warriors asserts, before turning to address the officer once again. His glare is cold, and his fury is burning. “I can’t BELIEVE that you saw a clearly disoriented individual in your courtyard and decided to ARREST THEM, of all things! Who is your superior, I’ll have to inform him-!”

Wild leans over to the guard, who’s standing frozen with fear next to the cell. “I told you,” they whisper.

[pyrrhiccomedy]

Does Heretic’s Mithra have any relation to Mithra or is the name a coincidence?

Please, there are no coincidences.

Anon is asking about the connection between the real-world cult of Mithraism - a Roman mystery cult centered on a god named 'Mithras,' largely practiced by the Roman military, which was a contemporary religion with early Christianity - and the realm of Mithra as it exists in Heretic: a poisonous realm of watery darkness that connects every place to every other place, outside the skin of the world.

Let's keep clear the distinction between those three terms, so this doesn't get confusing: Mithra is the realm; Mithras is the god; Mithraism is the religion worshipping that god.

Most students of the secret world don't fuck around much with Mithra. Unless you have a deep affinity for Knock lore, or you are - God help you - entertaining some kind of Antelucan heresy, there's no need. You can travel towards the Glory without ever passing through Mithra.

And you should, because Mithra is dangerous. From the moment you step into Mithra until the moment you leave, you risk drawing the attention of Mithra's stalking kings. These are silent, vast, implacable hunters, which float through the prismadic darkness of their realm until they catch a glimpse of some trespasser: and then they follow them, endlessly, through any door, anywhere, and claim them. (If you wear a mask - if you never take it off - they might lose you, when you pass out of their realm. Or they might not.)

There was never any...diplomacy between the Calendar of Hours & the Stalking Kings of Mithra. The Calendar rings the Glory, that light which may well have the power to annihilate any mithraic thing that looks upon it, and the Stalking Kings never made any attempt to leave their realm for longer than it took to claim their victims. There were only three Hours which even had the power to visit that place: the Madrugad, the Stranger, & the Ecdysiast.

And then the Intercalation happened. The Stranger became domiciled - she could no longer set foot anywhere beyond the reaches of the Wood - and the Ecdysiast was slain by his daughter the Madderblade. Which left only the Madrugad: the First Hour, the Locksmith, the Hour of Silence, who tends to the wounds of the Sun-In-Rags from her Throne in Fort Baldomera.

And during the Intercalation, one by one the Hours to the Madrugad's right fell before and were devoured by Mother White, until that inimical Hour reached the walls of the Madrugad's fortress: and the sanctuary of her precious charge. So the Madrugad passed into Mithra, and called before her the greatest of all of the Stalking Kings, the King-of-Kings of the outer darkness, and offered him a doorway to a Throne of his own, if he promised to hunt and kill Mother White.

The King-of-Kings agreed, and came through the wall of the world. He crossed the vault of the heavens, beheld the Glory, and did not die. He bound himself to the 14th Throne, and together with the Madderblade he slew Mother White. His special charge, ever since, has been to keep her dead.

As an Hour, we call him the Black Captain. But on the rare, dread occasions when he directly addresses some pathetic, petrified and awestruck human, he sometimes calls himself Mithras. In the same way that you, projected into some universe of completely alien matter, might refer to yourself as corporeal, if some entity there asked you what you were. He is the glittering darkness. He is the void at the bottom of everything, and the inverse of everywhere. He is what lies on the other side of the closed door.

Mithraism, in the world of Heretic, was a Black Captain cult. And Mithras is still one of the Black Captain's sobriquets.

[ryanclaremont]

hard times.

A positive aspect in Ryan’s like is that she’s forgotten about James, for the most part. She’s scrubbed him away from her life, grown and moved on and she can honestly say that she is in a happy position her her life. Something that feels true and honest. The thing is, this presumed court hearing she was supposed to have about his intoxication and trespassing got postponed, three times by his lawyers and it’s starting to run her dry. She knew this was going to happen and she doesn’t have enough liquid assets to keep fighting, they’ll keep pushing it back until she’s run out. 

This brings her to the unfortunate decision to drop the charges, move on even if justice can’t be served. Another day, another toxic man walking the street like he’s the king of the world. It hurts, she mulls it over for a few days until she finally hits send on her email to her lawyer and the papers are being drawn up and sent to her to sign to end this. She hasn’t heard a peep from James nor is brother since everything happened and she hopes it stays that way for her own sake. 

It’s a lot to wrap her head around, a hard pillow to swallow and at the end of the day she only could do so much and try. 

Ryan pulls some freshly dried towels from the dryer as some food cooks on the stove. Baked chicken in the oven, potatoes on the stove top and she’s got some corn on the cob from the market. Dinner for two, her and August, and it’s one of her favourite thing. She told him he’s in charge of dessert and she’s sure that could be anywhere from simple ice cream to some elaborate cheesecake.

[ecto-american]

Stuck (Stubbornly)

Phic Phight Oneshot for @deuynndoodles​ : Jack and Maddie are stuck in the Ghost Zone. Fortunately for them, Phantom's around and willing to help out. However, they'll rather be arrested by a ghost warden and put in ghost jail before they'd allow some teenage menace to help them. Oh wait...

Read on AO3 or FFN

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"Should we call Jazz or Danny?" Jack suggested.

Maddie stared out into the unending void of the Ghost Zone. It hurt to think that their voyage, a trip that they had been planning out for months, would end so soon already, but they had barely made any progress when they realized just how much fuel the Specter Speeder was guzzling. Something was wrong.

"...Not yet," she determined. "We should have emergency fuel. We should be able to get back without any problems. Can you refill?"

"You got it," Jack replied, and he got out of the co-pilot seat. She could hear him go to the back, and shuffling around. He didn't say anything for a while, and that immediately began to unnerve her, but she kept her attention on the dashboard, trying to think of what went wrong when building. Was their fuel lines loose? Was there gas leaking everywhere? "Uh, Mads? I'm not seeing it?"

Her blood froze, but no need to panic. Maybe he just didn't see…

Maddie walked to the back and checked. And checked. Moved some stuff around, checked some more.

They had no emergency fuel.

"Why don't we go outside and check the engine?" Jack suggested. "Maybe we can figure something out." With a dry mouth, she nodded, and they hesitantly went outside to check.

There were no ghosts around, thankfully, just an endless green void. They knew that they would be safe breathing in the GZ air, thanks to their prior tests and experiments. They hooked themselves to a rope using a carabiner clip, the other end tied tightly to the speeder. Floating unnerved her, and she kept a hand on the speeder as they went to the front of the speeder. Jack popped the hood, and smoke floated out, making Maddie's heart sink. This was definitely not a good sign at all, or something that could be a simple fix.

"Need some help?"

Maddie looked over her shoulder to see…

"Absolutely not," she scowled. Phantom was floating nearby.

"Are you sure?" he asked. He floated up a bit higher to glance at their vehicle. "Looks like you got. Well, uh, basically car trouble."

"Leave. Now."

Phantom opened his mouth to say more, but Maddie pulled her ecto-gun out.

"We don't want help from some lowlife ghost!" she hissed. Phantom put his hands up in surrender and flew away.

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

An hour passed, and they decided to take a break working on the engine. Every possible problem that she could think of had been exhausted, and she had to take a break to both cool down and think. She sat on the steps leading into the speeder, with Jack deciding to lay on the floor of the inside.

"Fuel line wasn't broken, none of the lines were cut or had knicks. There's no reason it should be draining so much gas," Jack thunk aloud. "There shouldn't be anything besides the engine that the gas is going to, and there's no weird random connections to anywhere else. The battery's still good."

"And we forgot the emergency fuel," Maddie slumped over. Jack sighed.

"It's my own fault," he replied. "I should have checked to make sure Jazz and Danny had properly put all the supplies in. A proper exploration team always triple checks before a voyage."

Maddie could only give a low hum of agreement as she stared out into the zone. She felt somebody pat the side of the speeder, and she scowled as she saw Phantom grinning at her, giving a half way.

"What are you doing here?" she hissed.

"I brought help this time," Phantom told her, and he jerked a thumb behind him. It was finally then that she noticed the Red Huntress. Maddie raised an eyebrow.

"How in the world…" she murmured, only to trail off as she stared at the two of them. Jack sat up, and he poked his head out of the speeder.

"Oh dope! It's my favorite huntress!" Jack boomed. Red seemed bashful at the comment, shifting her weight onto her other foot and rubbing her upper arm.

"I mean, if you don't trust me or want my help, I figured you'd be willing to let a human help," Phantom explained, motioning towards Red.

"So, do you need help?" Red finally spoke up. She reached down to pat her left calf. "I have some tools with me, but I can always go and fetch more."

Something in Maddie's gut told her that this was very, very odd. Humans and ghosts working together so...willingly like this. She had taken note that Phantom and Red hadn't hunted each other down or fought like they used to, but she just assumed that they didn't quite run into each other that much anymore. Both were unpredictable with odd schedules and routines.

She glanced at Jack, who despite his initial enthusiasm, seemed to share her feelings, and she shook her head no.

"We'll be fine," she insisted. "You two should leave."

Red stared at Phantom, who shrugged his shoulders.

"So, wanna just go get some boba tea?" Phantom asked.

"And just leave them here?" Red scowled, motioning to the Fentons.

"They don't want our help," he replied. Red glanced from Phantom and the Fentons, who studied the two of them. She finally shrugged as well.

The two began to idly chat as they flew off, their conversation becoming more and more distant.

"That was weird," Maddie mused.

"Yeah, I thought she and Phantom were rivals," Jack mused. Maddie shrugged. Right now she wasn't too invested in the mystery. She'd worry about that later when they got home.

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

Judging by their phones (which they had worriedly learned that they oh-so-helpfully had no reception in the land of the undead), another hour passed since Phantom and Red had left. Jack was deep into the engine, fiddling with a possible solution to the problem as Maddie stood nearby. She continued to think as she looked around. She was surprised that they hadn't been bothered by now.

"Trespassing in an unauthorized vehicle that is also a real world item," a deep southern voice boomed. Well, she absolutely spoke too soon.

They whipped their heads to see a huge, hulking figure, an all white man with a black hat, black gloves and wearing a suit of white.

"Ghost!" Jack squawked. He scrambled to grab his gun, Maddie already having hers drawn. The ghost frowned deeply. Maddie was finally very aware of just how many ghosts were surrounding them. Too many to count, but they all looked exactly like the ghosts that terrorized Amity Park years before, all identical and matching in uniform that resembled a SWAT team. There was also vehicles resembling police cars and police vans.

"Resisting arrest. That's against the rules," he continued. He opened a large green and white book in his hands, flipping to another page. "Assault and battery with a deadly weapon." He glanced up at them with an angry glare. "Y'all are going away for a long, long time."

"We're not going anywhere," Jack frowned. He charged up his weapon.

Maddie looked around, and she shivered anxiously. There was no way they could take on all these ghosts. She nudged Jack, and he side-eyed her curiously. She lowered her weapon, and she used her head to motion around them. Jack blinked as he looked himself, and all of his confidence left him. He also lowered his weapon.

"We'll go," Maddie finally spoke. The ghost smirked, and he knocked on the side of a police van. The back opened up.

"Surrender your weapons," he ordered.

One of the SWAT ghosts came forward with his arms outstretched. Reluctantly, the adults handed their weapons over, detaching themselves from the speeder and getting into the van.

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

Their cell was a lot like a normal cell, and it was just them. Iron bars, no windows, single toilet, and four bunk beds. Jack was laying on one of the beds, facing the fall, as Maddie laid on the one across from him, staring up at the bunk bed above her.

Of course. Of course they ended up in ghost jail. It was just their luck. Though a scientist part of her was giddy at knowing that ghosts had some kind of legal system! Who would have known!

As she tried to start figuring out what on earth to do, she heard something banging against the jail bars.

She immediately sat up, staring to see Phantom making the noise by banging something in his hand on the bars. He was staring at them with a bright smile, and it only made her mood drop even more.

"Phantom!" Maddie hissed, standing fully and going up to the bars. "How did you find us?"

"We came back to check on you guys and see if you changed your minds," Phantom explained. Jack got up from his own bed to come over, looking surprised to see the infamous ghost teen. "Technus and Skulker were looting your speeder, and they said Walker arrested you. So we came by as quickly as we could."

The Fenton adults could see Red nearby, glancing around the corner. She was keeping watch.

"We're not going with you," Jack replied. Phantom rolled his eyes.

"Okay, and what? Stay here forever? Never see your kids again?" he asked. Their faces instantly dropped. "So do you wanna go home or not?"

Maddie narrowed her eyes at him before noticing that he was holding a metallic-looking cup of boba tea and raising an eyebrow.

"You brought a snack with you," she said. Phantom shrugged, offering it to her.

"Want a sip?"

"No! Just!" Maddie glanced at Jack worriedly, and he mirrored her expression. They, unfortunately, knew that they really...didn't have a choice. "Get us out of here!"

"Danny, you may wanna hurry it up," Red's voice called out softly to them. Maddie did a double take. Oh yeah. Danny Phantom. Huh, she kinda forgot about that.

Phantom nodded, and he dropped the boba tea, letting it float in the air as he phased them out of the jail cell. Maddie stared at him.

"Wait, you can just phase through?" she asked. Phantom shrugged.

"Uh, sorta yes, sorta no," he replied, grabbing his tea.

"Danny!" Red's voice hissed. Phantom glanced to her.

"Okay, so super quick rundown of Ghost Zone rules. In the Ghost Zone, you guys are the ghosts, so you basically can fly and phase through objects, so Red can phase through objects and you guys too, but this is also a human cell that only I can get you out, and speaking out getting out, we need to leave. Now," Phantom quickly explained. As soon as he finished, he motioned for them to follow him.

He began to fly towards Red, and they jogged after him. Phantom peered around the corner before pulling back. Red did too.

"How's our escape route looking?" Phantom asked. He took a sip of his drink as Red pulled up a map on her suit. She studied it for a bit.

"Hmm. We may run into some trouble," Red mused. "Best bet is for me to take Mr. and Mrs. Fenton and phase with them out of here, and…" She gave a weird pause. "We'll uh. Wait for you to escape on your own." Phantom sucked on his drink, and the sound of air coming through as he ran out of boba tea grinded Maddie's nerves.

"Oh would you just!" Maddie scowled, and she slapped the cup out of Phantom's hands.

"Hey! I paid for that!" Phantom cried out. He scrambled to pick it up. "They were having an unlimited refills special if you got that cup!" Red snorted in amusement.

"Danny, they kicked you out for getting too many refills anyway," she reminded him. Phantom made a face.

"Well maybe they shouldn't advertise it as unlimited refills then," he retorted.

"Most people don't drink twelve cups of boba tea," she replied.

"Maybe I should be rewarded for being able to drink that much then."

"Hm, we'll debate it later," Red replied. "Look, I'll get them out and meet you on the other side. Got it?"

"Got it," Phantom replied. To Maddie's horror and shock, Red lifted her visor up, but not all the way. Just enough to expose her lips, and she leaned into Phantom to give him a light peck on the lips.

"Be careful," she told him. Phantom nodded.

"I will," he promised. "If I'm not with you in five minutes. Just." He paused. "Leave without me, get the Fentons home, and then come back for me." Red nodded as her visor went all the way down.

"Grab my hands," Red instructed the Fentons. Maddie blinked, reluctantly taking one of her hands. Jack took the other. Red summoned her board, jumping in the air and allowing it to manifest beneath her. She held onto them tightly and flew through the walls.

Instinctively, Maddie closed her eyes as she flew through. Only to feel no impact. A blur of walls impaired her vision with constant flashes of the darkness of being in a thick jail wall and the light of the prison rooms and hallways. She blinked as the neutral green skies of the Ghost Zone finally greeted her, and Red continued flying until they were a decent distance from the prison. And now that she had a moment to think…

"What the hell are you thinking?" she exclaimed to Red. The huntress snapped her attention to her in confusion.

"What? You would have died if we let you stay in there!" she scowled.

"No, not that!" Maddie clarified. "I mean, thank you so much for helping us, but you? And Phantom?"

"Exactly!" Jack agreed. "He's an absolute menace! He's a danger! Don't you guys fight? What happened to all of that?"

She could see a glimpse of Red's face under her heavily tinted visor, and Maddie was sure that the girl looked embarrassed and was likely turning as red as her suit.

"Oh man, it's a looong story," Red sighed heavily. "Uh, best and easiest and quickest way I can explain it is; a lot of the things that made me angry with him was a misunderstanding, and I found out that he's...actually a really sweet guy. I know it's weird to say, but, um. Well, I've never met a guy who was so kind, thoughtful and romantic. My life's kinda hectic, and he just...he really goes out of his way to make it easier on me."

"How so?" Jack wondered.

"Well, like. He does a lot of my household chores and stuff like laundry, bringing me lunch when I have long shifts at work, listening to me when I have a bad day," she explained. "He makes life a lot easier and better."

How cute. If it wasn't between a dead teenage menace and this poor, obviously manipulated girl. It honestly reminded Maddie a lot of her own Danny and his little girlfriend, Valerie. Valerie told her a few times about Danny doing some of her chores at home since Valerie was so busy working and doing school. It kinda pissed Maddie off, since Danny never seemed to remember his own chores at home, but she never felt like bringing it up to him because, well, at least he was really good to her. She'd be ashamed of him if he was any lesser.

"Hey!" Phantom called out as he zoomed towards them. "Let's go! Quick!"

Red nodded. She passed Jack off to Phantom, and the two teenagers flew the Fentons home.

[shepard-ram]

Hello I'm light anon and i bring you the first chapter of an au i started awhile ago with the help of Ender anon (hi love you/p) , the supernatural au named Abnormalities and its very long

Abnormalities

Chapter One - Phasmophobia 2.5k words

:readmore:

“Prove it then.” 

Of course, Sap and Dream’s arguments always lead to some sort of challenge. Ever since you met them in middle school, it’s been like that. Sap would say something, Dream would fire back because Sap was clearly wrong in his eyes, and it would spiral from there. Today’s topic of debate: The existence of the paranormal. Specifically, ghosts.

What sparked it? A cheesy horror film you picked out for the monthly movie night. Your stereotypical ghost film with lazy jump scares with bad effects and acting.you only bought it so you four could laugh at it. You Guys laud sprawled on the couch while Sap took up the floor. All was well, Until Sap proclaimed that real ghosts wouldn’t be that shitty. Dream, heavily disagreed that ghosts even existed. George didn’t take a side but you backed Sap up. The world is to weird not to have ghosts in it.

”Oh absolutely.” Sap nodded, agreeing with your assessment.

Dream rolled his eyes “Sure, sure, just how are you going to prove me wrong? There isn’t a ‘haunted building’ anywhere in town.”

 At that moment George decided to speak up “What about the old willbeck farm?, the one a couple miles out of town. I always heard it was haunted by a kid or something.”

“That stupid place?  Those were just stories are parents told us to keep us from trespassing.”

You shrugged. “It’s a start.”

Next thing you know, you and sap blew your paychecks on ghost hunting equipment. You ordered the basics, an EMF meter, a good camera, a thermometer, you even bought a ‘Spirit box’ and some smudge sticks, all too spite Dream who complained that you were being scammed. 

You both ended up begging George to use his car to load up your equipment as he was the only one to have a large enough car for your equipment. He relented after a day of relentless begging. 

The Willbeck farm was a 40 minute drive from your home, which left a lot of room for discussion.

“You three are idiots.” 

You leaned forward to poke your head over the passenger seat. “You didn’t have to come, you know. You could have stayed back and do boring things like dressing up patches or something.”

He turned his head with narrowed eyes. “And make sure you guys didn’t fake your ‘proof?’ Not a chance.”

You laugh. “You’ll be the first one we feed to the ghosts.”

You bickered back and forth until George announced that they had finally made it. Not even seconds after he pulled into the clearing in front of the property, you and Sap practically kept out of the car and rushed to the trunk to get your gear. After distributing equipment amounts your group you took your first look at the house

The Farmhouse was much larger than you remembered reading about. It was a huge two story red building with a faded white trim. The word around it looked like it had been rotting for years and it definitely smelt like rot. AMany of the windows were broken in, and the glass was a gross brown color. The roof had some holes in it and the gutters had been ripped from the roof and laid scattered around the outside. A large barn was off to the side and had the same kind of wear to it. The entire property was surrounded by a torn up wire fencing, which had a lot of crows perched, eyeing you intensely. The Erie feeling the house gave off was intensified by the soft sound of the wind and the loud crow caws. 

If houses had a criteria to be haunted, this one checked off all the boxes

Sap let out a low whistle before lightly nudging your arm “Dude, this place makes your home look tiny!”

You scoffed at that. Sure your rented home was small, but was cheap enough to pay for while you worked your way through community college. A one bedroom, one bath, a combined kitchen/living space, all on top of a double garage was all you needed. 

It was a slow walk to the porch, all of you hesitant to actually set foot in the run down building. The steps creaked under you, and the wooden boards sunk slightly. You were at the head of the group, so you were the first one inside, taking a couple steps in the large foyer. It was full of outdated furniture, something you’d see out of the early 90’s. A large staircase sat to the left, hugging the wall as it pushed into the upstairs.  There was a door to your right, leading into what you believe was the kitchen.

You held the camera up and you got a good shot of the room, if there were no ghosts you’d at least have some cool photos.

The four of you spread out into  the room observing every corner of it. Sapnap was the one armed with the EMF reader. He waved the hand held device trying to get something, anything to read. He did manage to get one, honing onto a stuffed cow that was nestled into the couch.

It was dusty, like everything else in the room. Otherwise it was in semi good condition. It was... cute. Too cute to just be sitting in this old farmhouse for the rest of time. Dream had other opinions.

“That means nothing. It’s just a cow.” 

To be fair, it was the first time either of you had used this kind of equipment. You decided to put it in your bag, hoping to study it later. It could be a fluke, but you guys couldn’t bow down now!  The hunt has only just begun.

Every room on the first floor was subject to an EMF and Temperature checks. Dream and George fucked around while you and Sap scanned for anything that could be more than a fluke, the only thing that could be found was in the kitchen. A small carved statue of a crow.

It gave off the same readings as the cow plush, so perhaps it wasn’t a fluke. You found it sitting on the open windowsill, it was so life-like you almost mistake it for a living crow. Something was telling you that it was probably the oldest thing in the house. You gently placed it in your bag with the cow, another piece to your growing collection.

You took a moment to glance out the window. There were way too many crows sitting on the wire fence to be normal. It was the beginning of summer, so crows even migrate?

With the first floor cleared, you lead the charge upstairs. The floor boards only got louder with every step. You quietly asked whatever prime deity was watching that neither of your group would fall through the floor. The whole house felt unstable.

The top of the stairs lead you to a Hallway. It was small and only had two doors and at the end of it stood a large magnificent bookshelf.

You took the first door on the left accompanied by George while Sap and Dream opted to poke around in the hallway, formally splitting the group for the first time.

The room wasn’t very Large, nor could you tell what it was supposed to be used for as pretty much everything was covered with sheets of some kind. There were a couple of uncovered boxes laying on top of things, so it wasn’t completely boring. A couple of minutes of scavenging later, George called for your attention.

“Look at this” George presented you a beautiful lute from one of the few uncovered boxes. It was crafted out of a dark wood and had what you thought was engravings of fish along the sides. How old was this thing? Was it even usable?

“Let me see!” You asked, setting down the camera before making a grabby motion towards the lute, which was met with a questioning look from the Brit. “I want to see if it’s in tune.” 

He decided that it was a good enough answer before handing over the old thing. You strummed the strings, and it sounded surprisingly good, despite the cloud of dust that came off it. You paused for a brief moment before playing a quick melody, just a song you played back in middle school for a recital. You hummed along until yelps from outside and many thumps. 

You quickly set the Lute down and follow George out the door, fearing that something had gotten your two friends. However, instead of a gory mess, you saw Dream standing holding a book, while a whole pile of them at his feet, a few inches away from the bookshelf. 

“The shelves just collapsed on themselves.” He quietly said. The look on his face was puzzled, like he was still trying to figure out what had happened. 

“Or maybe,” Sap started. “The ghost doesn’t like you touching his stuff.”

“I’m keeping it then, the ghost doesn’t need it.” 

“What’s the title of it?” You asked as you fake over to view the damage. Dream opened the book and flipped through it. 

“It’s old, There isn’t a title nor is it in English, old English I think.”

What was such an old book doing in a relatively modern house? You shake the thought away and motioned for Dream to give it to you. “I’ll hold onto it, I want to see if I can get it translated.” Another treasure for your growing collection.

You turned back to check on George, he wasn’t next to you, instead he was messing with the final door, seeming to unjam the lock and push into the room. You decided to grab the lute and take it as a keepsake.

Picking it up again made your head feel... loud. You couldn’t tell which thoughts were yours and which were intruding. A pair of eyes were watching you somehow but the room was empty. Panic rose in your chest, your heart was beating so so loud. A cold hand touched your shoulders, yet you couldn’t tell if it meant you harm or not.

“Hey... are you okay?”

And it stopped. Everything was clear again. You turned your head to look back seeing Sap poke his head through the door. “You’ve been standing here for a while.”

You nod, “Yeah yeah... we should- we should stop splitting up.”

You’d only find out later that the Lute has the same effects that the other two objects did.

The house search was a bit of a bust. The only ‘Supernatural’ experience you had was the EMF meter going off and the strange experience with the lute which you opted not to tell your friends about, writing off as the Erie nature of the house getting to you.

Finding nothing else interesting, you took one last look at the entrance room before stepping out. You feel a weird sense of longing, something pulling at you not to go. You tried to shake off the feeling and you walked back to the car, just to put all your goodies away in the trunk. 

All that was left on your to-do list was to check the outside area and the barn. Being the person that you are, you went straight to the barn. They boys could handle the rest of the property alone. alone  The building had no doors you waltzed right though the entryway. Despite never actually being in a barn, it looked right to you.

It was devoid of any livestock, but there was Hay everywhere. Light shined through the holes in the ceiling, making the room clear enough. The soft blue liquid that was spread across the hay-

Wait. What?

Doing a second take revealed that the whole barn has some weird blue goo smeared everywhere. It looked too Fresh to be painted, it looked wet. There didn’t seem to be a set trail, just pools of it. You found most of it by a ladder that led up to a new section of the barn.

The blue substance was dripping from the loft of the barn. 

It had to be.

And you were right! Sort of. Finally dragging yourself up the old latter not really minding the blue that now stained your clothes, you found the source.

He was standing- floating?- there, as if waiting for someone. The man was tall, taller than you or any of their friends, absolutely towering over you. His entire pallet was muted, his skin was fucking Grey. His attire was strange too. Something out of a renaissance fair. What was the strangest was that he was translucent and bleeding? Out of a cut on his chest. That blue substance oozing out of his stomach onto the floor boards.

He smiled.

“You found me, little songbird.”

The temperature drop had you shivering, but that also could have been from the absolute terror of seeing a real ghost.

That loud feeling returned in full force, directing your attention onto him.. You had to go. But it was like you were frozen place. He moved to cup your face, cooing as he looked you over.

“It’s not polite to touch things that aren’t yours, yet you handle them with so much care... I don’t mind.”

He wasn’t acting out of malice, thank prime, but It didn’t make it any less uncomfortable. He was too close.

“.... pretty songbird. My pretty songbird.”

A beat past before you could hear your friends calling for you. Your head cleared for a moment so you took it and ran. Practically flying down the ladder and hurting yourself in the fall. Ignoring the pain you booked it to the car right past Dream and Sap, who were standing by the entrance to the barn.

“We- We have to go. Now. Please we need to... to...” you couldn’t really tell what you were saying, everything was moving too fast. Great Prime, that was a real ghost. You- You were talking to a ghost. A Ghost called you a Song bird. 

A Ghost.

That ended your hunt right there and then. You weren’t in a fit state to keep going. Especially not when you’re covered in... whatever this blue stuff is. You’d come to find later that you had a blue hand print on your face, right where the man had cradled your face.

You’re so out of it, you don’t realize when your friends are guiding you up the stairs to your home. One of them says something about leaving the loot in your garage, but you don’t really care. This is a future problem. You give a small thank you and a swift goodbye before passing out the second you feel your pillow under you.

So deep in sleep you don’t realize that your tiny home has a few new residents wandering about. 

Or the fact that one of them watched over you as you slept

-----------

I AM SIMPLY ASHAMED OF HOW LONG IVE BEEN PUTTING THIS OFF IT WAS A CRINE TO NOT LET Y'ALL SEE THIS EARLIER. LIGHT YOU'VE DONE A FANTASTIC JOB AAUAUGGG

[raineeskiesabove]

What about angsty Venlumi like Venti taking an arrow for Lumine?

Hi anon, I made this into a oneshot if that’s okay. I’m not sure what I wrote, since I did it while I’m feeling ill so uh;;; enjoy? eheh...

The Stars Will Not Take You | Venti x Lumine Oneshot

It was supposed to be a simple commission. Take out the hilichurl camp, remove any leftover structures, collect and go home. Venti had been there. He was supposed to protect her. So why, instead of singing and laughing with her that evening, he was holding onto her lifeless hand, with the fleeting hope that she would awaken?

As the walked along the road bordering the outskirts of Monstadt, Venti hummed playfully, practicing a new song as they walked. Despite being on their way to a potentially dangerous commission, Venti was as happy as ever. Lumine chuckled to herself, stealing glances at his cheerful smile. She increased her grip around his fingers slightly, relishing in the warmth of his skin against hers. It was moments like this that made her feel at ease. He made her feel like everything would be alright, which is something she desperately needed to stave off the flood of doubts and fears that plagued her mind.

“Venti,” she placed her index finger against her lips, emphasizing for him to quiet himself. They had reached the hilichurl camp.

Huddled in a nearby bush, Lumine’s eyes widened upon seeing the horde occupying the camp. The commission paper stated that the group would be small, not an entire tribe. Maybe more.

“Lumi I don’t know about this. There are too many for simply making a pretty penny. And there are only two of us,” he whispered, the singsong tone in his voice now gone.

Lumine shook her head, “No, we need this money. I’m running low from buying supplies and we must move forward soon. We can’t waste time, Venti,” she explained, face and voice steady as stone.

Venti sighed, his grip now tightening around her slightly smaller hand.

He shook his head, “I cannot allow this. What if something goes amiss?” His words rang in his ears, the realization that he trespassed on his own principles made him bite his tongue.

“We’ll be alright, I can take them. As long as you support me from the rear, that money is as good as ours.”

The bard looked away, his eyebrows knit in a slight scowl. Who was he to stop her? Lumine was free to make her own choices, even if it meant putting herself at risk.

“Fine. I shall support you. Please be careful,” he pleaded.

She brushed a hand against his cheek, kissing his forehead softly in reassurance. Offering him a small smile, she whispered that she would be careful, before standing to lead their small siege.

Initially, the attack went well. Venti used his winds to knock the hilichurls off their feet, giving Lumine more time to clear the way. She fought gracefully, her sword slicing through her enemies effortlessly, her footwork more akin to a dancer than a fighter. Venti consciously told himself to focus, for fear of growing lost in her performance, and yet, the windward god still failed.

“Venti, look out!”

He heard her, but it was much too late to react, the next moment bringing him back to a harsh reality. A sharp pain erupted at his shoulder, an arrow imbued with pyro had struck him. The bard let out a yelp in pain, the arrow burning him from the inside out. The chants of the hilichurls grew louder, now closing in on his vulnerable form. He used his other hand to channel Anemo to hold them off, but it proved difficult to cast with only one arm.

“Venti!” Lumine shouted through a crowd of hilichurls, the monsters falling at her hand as she drew closer to him.

“Lumi, don’t! There are too many! Retreat before- ” his sentence was cut off by another arrow, this time one imbued with electro, sunken deeply into his thigh. His leg twitched at the sensation, the jolts of electricity making his leg grow limp and numb.

“Venti, no!”

For the first time, Venti saw fear flash through Lumine’s golden eyes, her complexion growing pale from seeing her beloved being slowly chipped away. It was impossible for her to reach him, the hilichurls creating an impassable barrier between them. He offered a small smile, mouthing for her to go, praying that she would follow his orders. As he did so, yet another arrow struck his small frame, this time cryo against his side. The impact made him cough, blood spilling from the corners of his lips. She couldn’t stand it anymore. With a strangled cry, she used all of her power to summon a tornado, the sheer force causing many of the monsters to grow caught up in the storm. The larger mitachurls, however, remained unfazed, only growing irritated by the gusts of wind. In her worry, Lumine failed to notice this, ignoring them in favor of making a mad dash towards the staggered Venti.

As a seasoned archer, it was common knowledge that arrows should not be pulled out, for fear of excessive bleeding. But gods, did the added elemental damage hurt. Admittedly, he grew more hopeful as Lumine grew closer, happy that she had fought so hard to protect him.

His happiness quickly dissipated, however, upon seeing a mitachurl charging straight for her. Lost in her emotions, Lumine’s reaction was slowed, her sword only enough to reduce the severity of the major slice the monster inflicted across her midsection.

No. No, no, no. This wasn’t happening.

Immediately, Venti pulled all three arrows from his body, blood already soaking through his clothing as he drew his bow to fire. His shoulder burned as he released Wind’s Grand Ode, the force of the bowstring making him hiss in pain. With the mitachurl out of the way, Venti rushed to Lumine, her form now twisted and lifeless against the bloodstained grass.

“Lumi!”

Her entire chest and abdomen had been sliced open, blood pooling around her unconscious form. He placed his hands against the wound to curb the bleeding, but at this rate she didn’t have long to live.

“No, no. Celestia, no! Lumine, you can’t die on me!”

Already, his hands were dyed red with her blood, her breathing growing extremely shallow and faint. He felt tears begin to stream down his face as he wailed hopelessly. They were miles from the nearest statue or Monstadt, and he himself could barely walk, let alone carry her.

“It is unlike you to be bested so easily in battle, Lord Barbatos,” a voice thundered.

Venti looked up, finding himself face to face with Dvalin, a previous member of the Four Winds. A dear friend of his.

Venti sniffed, trying to wipe away the snot running down his face. “D-dvalin. My friend, I plead for your aid in this hour of need. Not for myself, but for her. Please, help me to protect what I hold most dear,” he sobbed.

Dvalin blinked. Never had he seen the archon so vulnerable. So devastated. The warm smile and bouts of laughter that typically sounded from him were nowhere to be seen, instead replaced by a look that made his heart grow heavy.

“A statue, or Monstadt, my lord?”

“Monstadt. This wound is too complex for the statue’s effects.”

He never left her side. Regrettably, he snapped at the clerics when they asked him to leave and return in the morning, to which he refused to do so. Now, alone with her sleeping form, Venti sighed, rubbing his thumb along her knuckles.

“I shouldn’t have lost my temper at them. They were only trying to help. Just like how you were back there. That’s something I love about you. But at the same time... it frightens me. Deeply. What would I do if you were to suddenly disappear?” he whispered to her, his voice trembling with fear from his own words.

As he held back another set of tears, he heard a faint whisper, “...not going anywhere,” she said. She moved her hand to hold his weakly, her eyes opened a crack to see his crying face.

“Lumi? Oh, I’m so sorry. I- I failed to protect you, and I should’ve pulled the arrows out sooner and gone to help and-“

She cut him off with a bandaged finger to his lips. “Venti, love, don’t blame yourself,” she assured, offering a small smile before attempting to sit up.

She winced from the movement, Venti feeling powerless in only holding onto her hand and the small of her back. He leaned in closer to take her in a gentle embrace, his tears now staining her white infirmary shirt. His free hand moved from her back to her hair, gripping it protectively.

“Lumine, promise me something,” he choked, ignoring her previous remark.

She combed her own hand through his hair, saying nothing.

“Promise me, please don’t disappear,” he whispered.

She didn’t say anything for a long time, and Venti began to wonder if she had fallen back asleep.

“Venti, look at me,” she said, pulling away. “Do you see me?”

He nodded, “Every beautiful bit.”

She smiled sheepishly, trying not to get sidetracked. “Yes, and thus, my promise is already fulfilled, my love,” she said.

“Huh?”

“Even if I am gone, you will always remember me. I will not be forgotten, and that’s enough for me.”

“But it isn’t for me! You need to live, Lumine!”

“Of course I will, I wouldn’t want to live a day apart from you. But someday, we will be forced apart. It will happen, Venti. But I promise, that somewhere among the stars, we will meet again,”

“Lumine...”

“People are separated, but never for forever, my dear,” she placed her forehead against his, looking into his eyes earnestly. “Do not worry, my archon,” she half joked, letting out a small chuckle.

He sighed, smiling from the influence of her laughter. “Your words indeed ring true, my disciple,” he replied, nuzzling against her soft cheek. “But I will protect you from harm’s way, so that the stars may claim you another day.”