#and he has a toolbelt (door) for emergencies

[vitaae]

so 

the gang (the htp fan server) and i talked about what older Boy might look like the consensus was beefy, emo/scene-- so after fucking around i made ... this

older Boy

[mauve-n-arcadia]

The Pining of the Void: Chapter 6 - The Shadow Walk

“Sha-bah! Sha-bah!” Glush shook Shadbak over and over. He shivered as he looked over her body, she was still in one piece, her limbs were unbroken, her clothes were untattered, and yet she was still limp in his arms. “Sha-bah!”

“Move over!” Dul struggled to peel Glush away, tossing the big orc on his ass. 

“No!” Glush jumped back up and grabbed Dul’s arm. He was about to Yank Dul away when his hands began to glow with a soft amber light. “What-”

“Hands off, ya big lug! I’m trying to help her!” Glush frowned and tightened his grip.

“What you doing?” He demanded. Dul winced.

“Ack! Easy! I’m trying to see what’s wrong!” Dul said. Glush looked at Shadbak, who’s eyes were still pitch black, then let go of Dul.

“What wrong?” Glush asked. Dul sighed as he worked, moving his hands up over Shadbak’s eyes.

“Well, it seems like she’s caught between planes… her body is here, but her spirit has been pushed out by shadows.” Dul said. Glush’s heart sank. Dul sat back on his haunches, the light of his magic disappeared. Reflexively, Glush leaned in to feel for Shadbaks pulse.

Her skin was not cold, but somehow the sensation of touching her seemed far away. Her heart was beating like an echo from deep in the caves. How were they going to do this mining operation without Shadbak? How was glush going to move on without her?

He felt Dul put a hand on his shoulder.

“Her spirit is wandering the shadow walk,” he began. “She will survive, at least as long as her body does, and… “ Dul stopped and shook his head, “Well… hopefully she doesn’t meet anyone on the walk…“

Glush kept looking into Shadbak’s eyes hoping she would snap back to them at any moment. He looked at her, feeling like he was looking into a deep pit,listening to the echo of her heart. It beat, and beat, Glush’s ear twitched and he looked off to one of the doors in the room.

He squinted at the doorway that was barely brighter than the void crystals on either side. Her heartbeat was coming from there!

Glush stood with determination. 

“Dul,” He proclaimed, “Take Shadbak to tent, I go.” He turned to walk towards the faint ba-dum he could hear echoing. 

“Wait!” Rudy said, putting an arm out to touch Glush’s shoulder. “You can’t go alone, then we’ll just have two people missing!”

Glush rolled his eyes. “I’m fine.” He said. He brushed Rudy’s hand off his shoulder and made his way towards the darkness. 

As he neared the door, the air around him grew colder. It gave off an odd non-presence. Glush reached for the handle, and his hand passed into nothingness. He couldn’t pull back through, the thick shadowy air compelled him to move forward.

He didn’t take a single step, but he found himself on the other side. The cold was firm. It lightly pressed into him from every direction, over every pore, and slid him through the barrier without any effort on his part. He turned to look. The door was still there. He could still hear Shadbaks heartbeat in the distance, but no inkling of sound from Dul and Rudy reached him. 

Glush looked around himself. He was alone, and in a small room. This change was a bit jarring, seeing as he was just in a wide cave. 

The room seemed darker as well. Glush was good at seeing in the dark, but the darkness in this room was on another level. There were objects in the room, but the darkness conspired to make them amorphous blobs that Glush could barely make out. 

Glush sighed, and listened intently. 

Ba-dum Ba-dum Ba-dum, it was faint, his ears swiveled. It seemed to be coming from the leftmost corner of the room. 

Glush started moving in that direction. His own footsteps took precedence over all the other sounds of his environment. And listening past his own breathing took concentration, but there were a few other sounds of note.

Water was moving somewhere in the distance, as well as an occasional drip. These were sounds Glush was used to from spending time in caves. 

An occasional scratching noise could be heard, like claws. It sounded far off as well. Glush noted it as a sound to pay attention to. 

But overlaying everything, and coming from no direction in particular, was a faint hum. A deep noise. It permeated through the walls, and through his very bones. But it didn’t feel threatening.

Glush took another deep breath and let the hum reverberate through him.

Ba-Dum Ba-Dum, he could hear the beat a little better now. 

He felt his way to a door in the room. It was a regular door this time. He pushed it open, and the old worn hinges screamed into the open air. 

The rusted screeching echoed into the hall beyond. There was a bit more light here. There was hardly more to see, but Glush still drank in his surroundings greedily. It was a place not entirely unlike the top of the cave, with its multifaceted geometric walls, dark growths, and sparse sparkling lighting. What surprised Glush was the sheer size of the room. He was not far enough underground for the cave to be this big at all, and yet it was like the sprawling wilds of the outdoors with a shadowy twist.

He padded over mossy hills, glowing blue and purple, ducking under the void like mushrooms which had grown to monumental heights. There was a skittering in the distance, and Glush froze, trying to listen for the source. With the walls of the cave so far away, the echoes of the cave were faint at best, Glush almost didn’t believe his ears when he could hear footsteps along with the light thumping of Shadback’s far off pulse.

“Ah yes this one is nice and plump, ohh but maybe i should take the dry one instead. Oh where is that damned chicken…”

Glush lost all sense of caution as he hurried towards the voice of his friend. 

His hurried footsteps alerted an addled Shadbak, she whipped around quickly and Glush stopped short at the tip of her blade, millimeters from Glush’s stomach. She bore her fangs at him, her hair was unkempt with little crumbs of something all over. Her clothes were in tatters, as if she had been wearing them a bit too long.

Her hardened stare transformed into the widest smile Glush had ever seen on her face. 

“GLUSH!” She screeched gleefully, storing her knife back into her belt loop. 

“I haven’t seen you here yet! No one ever comes to visit me” Her eyes darted from place to place, almost taking in each piece of Glush as a separate entity. Suddenly, she launched herself at him. 

“Ahh! Shad-shabak!” Glush exclaimed, making a move to catch her. She passed right through and slumped to the ground behind him.

“Awww.” She said picking herself up from the cave floor. “I can’t touch you!” She lay her cheek on the ground dramatically. A mushroom was laying beside her.

“Stupid Glush” Her eyes landed on the mushroom. “Being all ethereal.” She lazily moved her head forward and took a bite out of the mushroom.

Not getting up, she continued to munch on the mushroom. 

“Well if you’re here. I might as well introduce you to everyone else.” She sat up, still chewing a bit. 

She threw her head back and screamed. “MIZZY, MYSTERY, MINNY!”

A slight skittering could be heard in the distance.

“You of course already know Mystery,” Shadbak said, gesturing to a blank space of air. Her eyes narrow conspiratorially, “She can talk now” Shadbak whispered.

“I think Mizzy is….AH yes, today was Mizzy’s turn to dig the latrine. She better not been slacking! Sometimes I swear, she’s lazier than you, Glush!”

Shadbaks head turned, “Ah that’s Min now”

The skittering grew louder, and louder still. Glush hovered his hand over his toolbelt. A large, reptilian foot emerged from behind one of the tall mushrooms, its claws were inky black, its scales were a deep charcoal grey, and when it fully emerged, there was a 4 foot tall creature covered in onyx feathers.

“Chicken?” Glush said, bewildered.

“Minny!” Shadback scrambled over and hugged it. Minny squaked and beat its wings a couple times. “See Glush! Minny lets me touch her. What’s the big deal with you all being so intangible?” she pointed around, accusingly at the air.

Glush tried to form words, but came up short. This was clearly Shadbak’s spirit, and she was also clearly in a bad way. How was one supposed to escort a spirit you can’t touch out of this weird place? Especially one who was acting so strange.

“Sha-bah, you, uh-” He rubbed the back of his neck, wishing he could find a less frank way to ask her this, “you bathe?”

“Bathe? Bathe! Why would I bathe in ink?” She half laughed, and half yelled. Glush shrank back.

“Not ink, water, bathe in water.” Glush stammered.

“There is no water, Glush. It’s all ink down here! Look at my boots!” She gestured with one hand at her boots which were indeed pitch black. “That’s what happens when you step in a puddle!” she laughed and threw her arms back around Minny.

Glush’s eyebrows furrowed.

“You no...drink ink?” He asked, concerned. Shadbak cackled even harder, falling into the giant black chicken, and making it stumble.

“Drink Ink!” She screeched between laughs. “You can’t drink ink!”

Glush’s eyebrow furrowed further. He’d never seen Shadbak like this. Not even drunk.

“You need drinks!” He said, and he produced a water pouch from his belt and held it out to her. She took the pouch from him with no problem. Where her hand would have brushed against his, it went through him instead. 

She unscrewed the top and peered inside. 

“I can see the dark in here!” She exclaimed proudly. Then she up ended it over her head and the water poured over her poofy locks.

Glush whimpered. 

“Uh….we find more water.” Glush said, more to himself this time. He looked around hopelessly for a moment and sighed. “Sha-bak, come” He implored.

Shadbak did not. She stared at him blankly.

“Sha-bak, we go!” Glush tried to grab on to her arm. He passed through her again. 

The chicken, Minny, scratched its large foot on the ground, and seemed to look as thoughtful as a 5 foot tall jet black chicken could look. 

In a deep voice it declared “I know where you could find some water”

Glush stared at the Chicken.

After a long pause “… chicken… talk?”

“Minny is a very special boy-o!” Shadbak yelped defensively. Minny cleared his throat with a sort of clucking sound.

“Yes, er, my name is K’thelix, actually, and your friend here has been surviving off of the local fauna since I found her.” He pecked at the flecks in shadbacks hair and she smiled back at him.

“You mean the mushrooms right? Was it the mushrooms I saw you eating? Or was that Mystery…” Shadbak said. Glush felt his stomach churn. The strange plants down here couldn't do any real harm to her. She wasn’t really eating them, right? Then again, how was she even able to eat anything right now? Then it occurred to Glush, Shadbak had only just had her spirit wrenched from her body moments ago, but she looked like she had been out here for days.

“Ah- kah the… kah the… kah…” Glush twisted his tongue around the alien sounding name, but alas could not get the syllables right. “Minny, uh- when you find Sha-bah?” K’thelix may have had fixed eyes, but he made the closest gesture he could to an eyeroll still.

“I’ve been watching after Shadbak for a fortnight. For all the spirits I’ve found wandering these caves, she is by far the strangest. Can’t say I’ve seen your kind down here before, you people are much hardier than the waifish humanoids that wander into the caves every now and then.” K’thelix said. The longer Glush spent talking to these two the less he felt like he understood. He wished he had brought someone who was better at talking, Usually Shadbak would take care of that, but… well… 

Tears began welling up in Glush’s eyes. He was overwhelmed to say the least. 

Even in her sorry state. Shadbak could not abide seeing her friend upset. 

“No, nonononono!” She said hurriedly, rushing to his side. She tried patting at his cheeks. “No sadness. I’ll….give you a mushroom!” She said plucking one from the ground and presenting it to him. Glush didn’t react to the mushroom, and tears welled up in Shadbaks eyes as well. 

“No sadness!” She exclaimed louder as her tears began to flow.

K’Thelix made a sound between clearing his throat and a cluck. Coming over to them, he put a wing around them both. 

“Come on” He said in his throaty rumble “Let’s go refill that water skin” 

*

K’thelix was a bit too large to be a regular chicken, Glush thought. He wondered if there were more pitch black, larger than life creatures that lived down here, surely there wasn't just one lonely chicken feeding on a bunch of mushrooms.

“I’ve taken your friend here, what did you call her? Shabbah?”

“Bak, BAK!” Shadbak corrected, though with the way K’thelix ruffled his feathers, it seems he did not understand.

“I do not cluck, Shabbah, now hush. Anyway, I take her here once a day, so she’s been getting plenty of water.” He stopped right in front of a glowing pond, or rather a large puddle. It was a foot deep, maybe a few around, and surrounded by dark foliage that swallowed its light.

Glush’s heart swelled with gratitude as he knelt by the pond. He dipped his hand into the icy water and cupped a small amount up to his lips. He took a tiny sip. 

It tasted a tiny bit metallic but seemed fine for drinking, so he dipped both hands in and took a few more gulps. 

He wasn’t sure if Shadbak actually needed to drink. But the dryness in his throat made him certain that he did.

Shadbak lowered her head and drank greedily. As she rose the cool droplets spilt down her chin and onto her neck.

Her eyes shot up and made contact with his. She cracked a smile, and for a moment seemed like her old self. Then she pouted.

“We should nap!”

Glush tilted his head. He was very emotionally drained, and could probably use a moment of rest. But K’thelix shook his head.

“Not here.” The giant chicken said vaguely. 

Glush too pouted for a moment. “Why?” He asked.

“This is the only clean watering hole in the caves” K’thelix stated tilting his head. A expression that while, very different from an orc, seemed reminiscent of the same expression Shadbak gave him when he said something stupid. Glush was still not sure why, and just returned the head tilt.

“Ugh, what kind of creatures are you two? This is the ONLY watering hole, all the creatures that live here come here to drink, that includes ones that might find you or I to be a tasty treat!” K’thelix squaked. Glush remembered that there were more dangers than simply other creatures in the caves. Shadbak was on a timer, and no matter how exhausting this all was, he had to get her out now.

The problem was how to get her out. She was being incredibly uncooperative, and Glush had the feeling that even if he were better with words, that they wouldn’t help him here. He dipped his canteen into the pool of water and gazed over at Shadback, hoping she would suddenly snap back to her usual self.

She was plucking mushrooms from the edges of the pool and humming a tune. It was something familiar, an old orcish lullaby. Old enough that it was something every orc learned from their grandparents. Shadbak had a glazed over look in her eyes as she plucked away at the mushrooms, as if in a trance.

“Ah!” Glush swiftly plugged up his canteen and strapped it back to his leg. He reached into his jacket pocket, and produced his flute. This might be a long shot, but it was worth a try. “Sha-bah-” she did not respond. “Sha-bah!” she was still deep in a trance. He made a strained sigh, at least the song made her focus.

He put his flute up to his lips and took a deep breath, placing his fingers over the keys of the first note. Softly at first, he blew the first phrase out in time with Shadbacks humming, they perfectly matched each others pitch. It was a story all Orcs knew, and a tune you would have to be tone deaf to mess up. As Shadback ended the last phrase of the song, and breathed in, ready to loop to the beginning, Glush played just a bit louder than her hum.

As his fingers danced over the notes, playing the tale of a weary traveller, Shadbak’s eyes widened. She looked to him slowly, like his flute was illuminating the cave. 

Slowly he began to edge his way away from the water. She, practically slack-jawed, followed him. A triumphant smirk threatened to mess up his air flow as he gained confidence that she would follow. 

He absent mindedly began retracing his steps. Going back the way he came would surely lead him out and back to Shadbaks body. He had a good enough sense of direction that he could let his feet find the way while his mind focused on the song.

He continued to play. Glush was never great at communicating through words, but music was a different story. The yearning for the family that he had found satisfied in Shadbaks company cried out throughout the song, urging her forward.

The notes echoed from the high cavern walls, reverberating back creating a harmony that enveloped both Glush and Shadbak. 

Glush thought he heard a faint voice calling after him, as his feet and music carried further into the darkness. 

[cas-lost-grace]

This is for @sternchencas who turned my whining into a fic prompt

Castiel is very annoyed. It’s not only that there’s constant noise and he can’t open the windows properly and he had to move all his plants from the balcony inside (and he has a lot of plants) and his cat is meowing all the time because he’s used to chilling on the balcony. The worst thing is that there’s constantly a stranger somewhere behind the windows or at least there might be.

You only realize how the most important places in your apartment are situated near the windows when construction workers start walking behind those windows.

Castiel emerges from a dream and rolls to his side. Sweaty sheets are clinging to his body. He runs his hand down his belly and wraps his fingers around his cock to take care of his morning wood. He feels a pleasant rush of blood as he starts to stroke himself. That’s exactly the moment when he hears heavy steps on the scaffolding behind the window. It feels like the man is walking right next to his bed. He is right next to his bed, the wall between them feels like nothing. Placing his bed next to the big window seemed like a good idea when he moved in but he hates himself for it right now. With a grunt, he climbs out of the bed and goes take a cold shower.

Castiel’s kitchen is so small that it feels like it’s all windows. He has a radio playing on the windowsill while he’s cooking and hears the worker humming along. He finds it amusing and exasperating at the same time.

He is writing on his computer, the scene he’s working on is putting up some resistance. The characters run wild in the dialogues, taking another turn than he intended. It makes him realize some new details about the protagonists and their relationship, but he’s having a hard time putting the plot back on track.

He’s writing and deleting one sentence for the fourth time with a slightly different wording when he jumps because there’s a man talking directly behind his back. With his hand on his chest, keeping his heart from jumping out of his ribcage, he makes sure there’s actually no one in his living room, it’s just the workers on the scaffoldings.

"Hey, Samantha, give me a hand here," a deep voice says.

"Stop calling me that and I will," the other man replies. The first one chuckles.

"Hold this so I can-"

"Yeah, yeah I see it."

When he thinks about it, he finds the first voice very attractive. He turns on his chair to chance a look through the window. He doesn’t see his face, but what he sees is very nice. The jeans hug the tight ass perfectly and the toolbelt does interesting things to Cas’ imagination.

"Hey, Dean, careful!" the other voice says and the owner of the hot ass disappears from Castiel’s view. Castiel heaves a sigh and turns to his screen.

He has an interesting idea for his characters, something frisky.

He sees the man a few days later, this time from the outside of the building when he’s coming home from a grocery store. He tries to be stealthy when he’s watching him moving expertly over the scaffoldings, using tools Cas doesn’t know the names of, but he must fail because when the man turns around, he gives him a smile and a cheeky wink. Castiel almost runs inside.

Having strangers able to see inside your apartment means you can’t walk around half naked like you are used to. And Castiel loves not wearing much when he’s home. His home is his safe space, where else should he feel free to do what he wants? Well, the restoration of the building’s facade means an end to that. The problem is Cas forgets sometimes.

He’s making coffee in just his favorite old t-shirt and boxer-briefs when he hears an agitated: "Dean! Are you even paying attention?"

"Yes, yeah, of course."

"Well, it seems like you’re paying attention to something else than this."

"I have no idea what are you talking about."

With his cheeks burning, Cas grabs his mug and leaves the kitchen. He puts his pants on, his hands a little unsteady, but part of him is happy that he’s not the only one who found a nice ass to look at thanks to the ongoing construction.

He meets Dean again inside the building. He’s accompanied by an older gruff man with a beard and a baseball cap. He’s probably Dean’s superior judging by the way he’s talking to him.

Dean shoots Cas an apologetic smile and hell, not only his ass is exquisite. He’s overall well built and his face is one of a movie star. He looks as if he stepped out of a page of the magazine Cas used to keep under his mattress as a teenager.

Cas almost says "Hello, Dean," but at the last moment realizes they are not supposed to know each other and he’s definitely not supposed to know the man’s name.

The works on the facade continue and Cas grows more and more annoyed. And he’s bored too. There’s a story idea lurking at the edge of his mind but he can’t get a grip on it. All he has is a feeling of something new, exciting, a little dangerous. It’s like a craving. It makes him restless.

He once again forgets to dress in the bathroom and walks through his living room in nothing but a towel wrapped around his hips. He sees the familiar silhouette behind the window. And there’s an idea - exciting and dangerous and utterly crazy.

He turns his back to the window. He’s probably just imagining eyes on him. He leans forward to grab the glass on his coffee table and lets the towel slip from his fingers.

There’s a loud metallic sound from the outside, like something heavy hitting the scaffolding.

"Fuck!" Dean cries out, alarmed.

His heart thudding with shock, Cas jumps to the window.

"Are you okay?" he calls.

"Yeah, yeah, I’m fine," Dean answers a little breathlessly.

"I thought you were falling off."

"Yeah, me too."

"Fuck, I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize... I’m sorry. Could I... make you tea or something? As compensation for the fright?"

Dean lets out a small sound, half amused and half surprised. "You make it sound like you did it on purpose."

"I...um... "

"Serves me right, I shouldn’t have been peeking."

Cas lets out a relieved chuckle and rubs the back of his neck that feels unusually hot.

"You should put your pants on before I come inside. Or I might get the wrong idea."

"Why do you think it would be wrong?"

"Oh my god."

"Please, don’t fall."

"I’m trying not to."

"So? The tea?"

"Yeah, yeah, sure. I can take a break. I only have to...to tell Bobby... my supervisor."

"Of course. I’ll get the water boiling."

"Sure. Um. I was serious about the pants. Get dressed."

"I’ll see about it. I’m at my home after all."

"This job will be the death of mine," Dean mutters as he walks away.

It takes Dean ten minutes before he rings the doorbell. When Cas answers the door, dressed in sweatpants and a t-shirt, Dean’s expression is equal parts relieved and disappointed.

"Um. Hi? I’m Dean," he offers Cas his hand and Cas shakes it- It’s warm and calloused.

"I know," he answers and enjoys the way Dean’s eyes widen. They are a very nice shade of green. "I’m Castiel, come in."

Dean toes off his shoes and steps in, closing the door.

"Do you really want tea or would you rather have something else?"

"I’m more of a coffee guy, to be honest." Castiel isn’t sure if Dean missed the innuendo or decided to ignore it.

"Coffee it is then. Milk? Sugar?"

"None. Thanks." Dean follows Cas to the kitchen where he leans against the counter.

"So, what do you do for a living, if I may ask? I um... I noticed you spend a lot of time here."

"I’m a freelance writer."

"Wow, cool," Dean grins. "What are you working on."

"A queer romance taking place in a dystopian universe."

Dean freezes a little. His lips part. They are pink and a little wet and so nicely curved that it physically hurts Cas to tear his eyes off them when Dean speaks.

"Queer romance, huh? Do you draw inspiration from personal experience?"

Cas tilts his head. "Well, I haven’t met any monster hunters recently, but I know about a hot construction worker I’d like to get to know better. I might base my next protagonist on him."

"Cas..." Dean breathes out as he takes a step closer. Cas turns to him, leaving the kettle on the counter, the mugs empty.

"Dean?" He grabs the toolbelt and uses it to pull Dean closer.

"This is very unprofessional," Dean says as he leans down, his lips just a breath away from Cas’. "I might get into trouble."

"Oh boy, but you already are in trouble," Cas purrs and kisses him.

[sgtcalhouns]

Rescue, pt. 3

here’s the final update!! sorry this took so long. i wrote half of it, and then i got sick and then i worked a bunch of crazy hours at work so i didn’t have the chance to finish it until now. this is the first time i’ve ever written a fight scene like this so please cut me some slack lol. enjoy!

Felix ran back to Game Central Station, making a beeline for his game. On his way out, he learned that the game he had been trapped in all that time was Hero’s Duty. It brought him some comfort to know that Brad couldn’t fatally harm Tamora since she was in her own game, but that didn’t lessen his haste to get her away from him as soon as possible. He found Ralph walking out of the outlet for Sugar Rush and hurried after him.

“Ralph!” he called out.

“Felix!” he replied. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Felix answered, brushing off his friend’s concern. “But we need to get Tamora out of there as soon as possible. What’s the plan?”

“We have to go back to Hero’s Duty,” Ralph replied. “Turbo wrote himself into the code there. If we can destroy the code, he’ll be gone for good.”

“What about Brad?” Felix asked.

“His code is intertwined with Turbo’s,” Ralph explained. “It’s impossible for one of us to create a whole new character that wasn’t written into the code. Only a game’s creator can do that. Turbo must have split off a piece of his code and taken the rest from Hero’s Duty.”

“Are you sure?” Felix asked.

“We spent hours talking to Sour Bill,” Ralph said. “He knows more about this stuff than anybody.”

“Alright,” Felix said. “So how do we get into the code room?”

“I don’t know,” Ralph admitted. “If Turbo hasn’t gotten to the soldiers, we’ll need to ask one of them to show us.”

“Let’s head to Tapper’s,” Felix suggested. “If Turbo’s tried to brainwash Tamora’s soldiers, he probably wouldn’t think to look there.”

“Lead the way.”

As the pair entered the bar, Felix spotted Tamora’s most trusted soldier, Kohut, leaning against the bartop. He quickly approached the muscular man.

“Kohut,” he said.

“Hey, Felix,” Kohut replied, clearly in the beginning stages of intoxication. “What’s up?”

“We need your help.”

“No can do, buddy,” Kohut said, his speech slightly slurred.

“Come on, this is serious,” Ralph interjected.

“I’m serious, too,” Kohut said.

“Kohut, please, it’s about Tamora,” Felix pleaded.

“What, havin’ lady troubles, little man?” Kohut said with a chuckle.

“Listen to me!” Felix said, hopping onto the counter to be at eye-level with him. “Turbo is back and he rebuilt Brad Scott out of his own code and they kidnapped me but Tamora stayed behind so they would let me go and now she’s trapped in some creepy dungeon with a half-brained clone of her ex-fiancee. Show us the code room in Hero’s Duty or she’ll be stuck there for who knows how long.”

This seemed to shake Kohut out of his slightly buzzed state. He stood from his barstool and dropped a few coins on the bar to pay for his drink before turning back to Felix and Ralph.

“Let’s go.”

Deep in the underground of Hero’s Duty, Tamora was hogtied on the floor. Turbo had returned to find Felix gone, and he was furious with Brad for letting such a crucial part of their plan walk out the door. 

“How could you do this?” Turbo asked, pacing the floor and waving his arms dramatically as he spoke. “The plan only works with both of them here. We’re no closer to the glitch than we were before.”

“I’m sorry,” Brad said, his head down in shame.

Tamora watched, curious about what Turbo could have done to manipulate Brad this way. He was probably four times Turbo’s size, and yet he was cowering before the minuscule racer. 

“‘Sorry’ doesn’t help us now,” Turbo said. “Come with me while I figure out how to fix the mess you’ve created.”

Brad sulked as he followed behind Turbo into the next room, leaving Tamora alone. Soon, she heard footsteps as Felix crept back in. He tiptoed over to her as quickly as possible and began working on the knots in which she had been tied up.

“Are you okay? Did they hurt you?” he whispered.

“I’m fine,” she answered. “Did you bring it?”

“It’s right here,” he replied, patting one of the pockets on his toolbelt. Inside it was a radiant, blue cube containing the code that kept Turbo and Brad alive. Once it was destroyed, they would cease to exist.

He managed to untie the ropes from her wrists and Tamora sat up and helped Felix with the tight knot that bound her ankles together. The moment she was freed, the couple embraced, savoring the moment of tenderness before what would inevitably be a difficult encounter with Turbo and Brad. 

“Where’s Ralph?” she asked.

“Right outside with Kohut in case anyone tries to make a run for it,” he answered. “The rest of your troops are in Sugar Rush keeping Vanellope safe.”

“Good,” she said. “Let’s end this thing once and for all.”

She moved to stand, but Felix reached for her hands, prompting her to stay put. He looked into her eyes, unable to hide his concern.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked cautiously. “We could always have Ralph or Kohut come in instead.”

“I’ll be fine,” she answered.

“I know you will, I just...” he trailed off, moving one of his hands to cradle her cheek. “I know this whole ordeal has to be taking a toll on you. Don’t feel like you have to be here when his code is destroyed. I don’t want you to have to see that again.”

“It’s different this time,” she responded. “It may look like him, but that is not Brad.”

“Are you absolutely sure?” he asked. “I know you don’t need protecting and you hate being coddled, but I know how difficult this is for you. I hate to see you hurting.”

“I’m sure, Felix,” she said softly. “Yes, this is hard. This situation has dug into my old wounds in a way that I never expected, but I’m strong enough to get through it. I got that strength from you.”

“Oh, Tammy,” he sniffled, overcome with emotion at her admission. She wasn’t often this open about her feelings, and it affected him deeply every time. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too,” she said. “Now, let’s exterminate these creeps.”

“How sweet,” came a voice from the other side of the room. The couple turned to see Turbo emerging from the adjoining room with Brad in tow. “Please, don’t let us interrupt the moment. Especially since it’ll be your last.”

“I’d be careful if I were you,” Tamora said as she stood up from the floor.

“And why is that? Think you’re a match for Dr. Scott? I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Turbo snickered.

“Because we have something that can erase the both of you from existence,” Felix said.

“The code,” Turbo whispered, overcome with dread. 

Felix reached into his toolbelt and procured the glowing cube, holding it up for everyone to see. Tamora gave him a small nudge to encourage him to destroy it before the situation could escalate any further. He paused to look up at her, silently asking her if she really wanted to witness this firsthand. She gave him a small nod, and he held her gaze for a moment, searching for any signs of hesitation from her. When he found none, he took a deep breath and raised his arm so that he could throw the code onto the ground. Something collided with his arm, and before he realized what was happening, Turbo had him pinned on the floor and the code had skittered across the room. 

Tamora glanced back and forth between her husband and the luminous block on the opposite side of the room. Felix saw her inability to decide between saving him and destroying the code and spoke up as he fought against Turbo.

“Don’t worry about me,” he grunted as he struggled against the racer. “Get the code.”

She ran for it, planning to stomp down on it and crush it under the weight of her boot. Before she could reach it, Brad swooped in and grabbed it off the floor, using his free hand to grab her by the arm and press her back against the wall.

“Tammy!” Felix called out.

He shoved Turbo off of him, the sight of Tamora in distress giving him a newfound strength. In mere seconds he had crossed the room, running straight up to Brad.

“Get your hands off my wife,” he said as he hopped up to Brad’s level and used his powerful legs to kick him in the jaw, sending him toppling to the floor.

Tamora wrenched her arm away and the code clattered to the ground. Turbo ran up from behind and tackled Felix, giving him no chance to fight back. She tried to intervene, but Brad grabbed her again and pulled her away from them.

“Let me go,” she ordered him. 

“Why do you care about him so much?” Brad asked, frustration seeping through his voice. “Turbo told me how badly he treats you. He said we’d be doing you a favor by getting rid of him.”

“Turbo is lying to you,” she said. “Felix is a good man. He takes good care of me, and he loves me more than anything.”

“No,” he muttered under his breath.

“You can try to kill him, but I will do everything in my power to stop it,” she said. “And if you succeed, I will never forgive you. If you let me destroy that code, Turbo will disappear forever. You won’t have to listen to his lies anymore.”

Brad released his hold on her and bent down to pick up the block of code that lay at his feet. 

“And tell him what happens to him when that code goes away,” Turbo interjected, a smug smile on his face. “Or did you forget that Brad disappears with it?”

“Is that true?” Brad asked, locking eyes with Tamora. She nodded sadly.

“That’s right, Scotty boy, you and I are one and the same. You’re nothing without me,” Turbo said. 

“Turbo has done terrible things to this arcade, and he’ll continue if we don’t stop him,” Tamora said in an attempt to reason with Brad. “The glitch he’s after is just a little girl. If we let him go, he will kill her.”

Brad looked at the code, and then at Tamora. Just when it seemed as though he was going to hand it over to her, Turbo spoke up again.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he said. “If she gets her hands on that code, her little handyman goes bye-bye.”

They turned to see that he had his hands wrapped around Felix’s throat. He tried to fight back, but he was quickly becoming dizzy and weak due to the lack of oxygen. Tamora felt her heart constrict in her chest as he struggled to breathe in Turbo’s tightening grip. She reached for her sidearm.

“Not so fast,” Turbo said, squeezing just a bit tighter. 

Tamora dropped the gun on the ground and took a step back.

“Good,” he smiled. “Now, Brad, I want you to bring me the code.”

Brad met Tamora’s gaze and saw the heartbreak behind her eyes.

“As for you,” Turbo continued, glancing pointedly at her, “if you make even one step toward that code, I will crush Mr. Fix-It’s windpipe. We wouldn’t want that, would we?”

“What happens after we give it to you?” she asked. “You let him go?”

“More or less,” Turbo replied. 

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“He goes, you stay,” Turbo answered. “And if I ever catch the two of you together again, I won’t hesitate to make you watch him die.”

Tamora locked eyes with Felix, trying her best to stop her tears from spilling over onto her cheeks. No matter what choice she made, she would never be able to return to her life with him. She despised this feeling of complete helplessness; she had always been the one in command. Felix wished he could reassure her that everything would be alright, but even he couldn’t muster the optimism to believe it. A terrible choking sound escaped his throat as Turbo’s grip tightened.

“I’d hurry up and make a decision if I were you,” Turbo said.

She took a step back toward Brad. Felix saw the defeated look of acceptance in her eyes and knew what she was about to do.

“No,” he tried to say, but the word came out on a strangled wheeze.

Their eyes met and he made a desperate attempt to communicate with her without words. He knew that she was about to give up her life, her happiness, to save him, but he could never go back to his life knowing she was stuck here forever. Tamora faced a similar dilemma: she knew that Felix was willing to die if it meant her safety and the safety of the arcade, but she would never forgive herself if she didn’t save him. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered before turning away from him.

She faced Brad once more.

“Go ahead,” she said.

Brad hesitated. He had witnessed the exchange, and he saw how much they were willing to sacrifice for one another. As he saw the sadness in Tamora’s eyes, he knew what he had to do.

“You love him, don’t you?” he asked.

“I do.”

“And you’re happy with him?”

“Yes.”

Brad gave a nod of grim acceptance.

“I’m sorry we did this to you,” he said.

And then, before anyone could stop it, he crushed the code within his grip.

“You fool! What are you doing?!” Turbo shouted as he slowly faded into oblivion.

Felix fell to the ground as Turbo disappeared, and he coughed and sputtered as he fought to catch his breath. Tamora ran to him, cradling her head in his hands. She took his hammer and placed it in his hand, and together they tapped it against his neck. He gasped as the damage to his throat was undone and he could breath freely once more. The last thing Brad saw before dissolving into thin air was the couple sharing an emotional embrace, and he knew he had made the right choice. This was the only way Tamora could ever truly be happy, and he had learned that loving someone was all about putting their happiness first. He closed his eyes and accepted his fate, knowing that he was leaving her in good hands.

“Goodbye, Tamora.”

[sofiahahaaa]

Demigod Delinquents | Pt. 7 | The Squads™ Join Forces

Summary: They break into some things and get a little in trouble but no worry no worry cause ?? KEAtOn and Mera are kinda cute? and we finally get the Tragic Backstory™

Rating: is flirting too much? it exists

A/N: You guys, solid on my part for having these parts out so soon after the other. Gotta love me.* okay narcissism over. I am so ready for everything and this little squad kills me they are SO CUTE and the Perma* (percy x mera) friendship is great. so freaking great.

~~~

Percy’s POV ~ 

“Jason," I said as we played our 30th round of Speed that night. “Remind me again what she said.”

“She–” He stuttered, and the scar on his upper lip trembled. “She asked me if I was Jason Grace, as in Beryl Grace– and I said yeah, and then she asked me if I was Jason Grace, as in Thalia Grace." I drew a card, and placed all of them down on the deck.

“Speed!" I hollered. Jason sighed. He began to shuffle again. “Continue.”

“And I said yes, but I asked her how she knew my sister’s name.– and she tried to say no, but she eventually admitted that her sister knew mine. So I’m thinking that her sister is the Hunter. And that she didn’t want to agree to the terms, so she– you get the rest.” He finished dealing the cards. Leo snored in his bunk, his leg dangling off the side.

“Yeah… I guess it would make sense. But how does she not know about Camp?" I drew five and started placing them down on the pile, but Jason got me this time.

“Speed!” Jason exclaimed. I slammed my cards on the floor in frustration. “Well, it does make sense. They might not have told her. Sometimes… they’re careless that way.” I looked up to the sky, hoping we wouldn’t get smited by Lady Artemis.

"I guess it does," I admitted. “But that still doesn’t make it clear. Did her sister abandon her? How did she get to this state?" I took a breath. “Do the others know?" I started putting away the cards.

“Probably not." I heard a creak behind us, and Leo fell out of bed.

“Uhhh,” he groaned, rubbing his eyes. 

“Leo! You’re awake!” Jason got up from the floor, starting to pace anxiously.

“Yeah…” Leo blinked, his eyes following Jasons figure around the cramped cell. I heard a rustling, and turned away from Leo. Mera was at the bars, shaking them lightly.

“Guys! Get out!” Mera urged. I patted my pockets, getting up. “Guys!”

“Right! Sorry!" I exclaimed, jiggling the lock. “What the code, again?” Leo sighed.

“8729." I twisted it. The lock popped, and I swung the gate open. It glided soundlessly. Keaton and Ari were jumping.

“What’s happening?”

“You’ll see,” Ari whispered in my ear. Keaton and Mera were already taking up the lead, so I jogged up to them.

“What’s happening?" I repeated.

“We’ve got a destination, and I have a feeling you can help.” Mera winked at me, and they kept their pace. I lagged until I was alongside Leo and Jason, and relayed what she had told me.

"I think she knows.”

“How?”

"I don’t know, but she definitely knows.”

“What does she know?” Leo asked, visibly confused. Jason inhaled sharply.

“Percy thinks she knows that we’re demigods. I say no way.”

“What do you mean?”

“They don’t know anything about it. Trust me on this one.”

“Alright,” We stopped at a door, and weren’t going anywhere, and Keaton started fidgeting with two rings of metal. Leo saw Keaton’s plaything.

“What’s that?” Leo asked. Keaton held up the piece.

"I don’t know. I’m trying to make it something, right now.” Leo reached out.

“May I?” Leo asked. Mera was watching him, fear shining in her eyes. Keaton handed over the contraption. Leo started playing with it– making tinkling noises as it shifted and turned. “Wow. This workmanship is incredible.” He looked at Keaton over the object. “You made it?”

“Yeah. It’s missing something, though.” Keaton explained. The difference in height was almost hilarious. Leo reached his chest. Keaton was really tall, for 13.

“No, yeah–I have the piece right here.” Leo was smiling. He pulled out a rod of plastic– was that a pen? Keaton eyed him suspiciously.

“You just had that?” He asked.

“Oh, yeah. I keep plenty of stuff in my toolbelt.” He patted his toolbelt, then looked up. Leo looked uncomfortable now, at the mention of a magical object. He looked at me. I shook my head. Don’t tell him. “Yeah. A lot of stuff.” He slid the pen into the rings. Then he handed it to Keaton. “See if it works.” Mera’s curiosity took over her conscious. She slid up to Keaton and peered over his forearm. Keaton spun the rings around the pen, and slowly they continued rotating. Leo reached into his toolbelt.

“But it’s just spinning.” Keaton said, a little disappointed.

“Yeah, one second. I’ll show you how it works.” Leo fetched a strip of Celestial Bronzenand reached out to the object. 

I saw Mera brush her hand to her waist, like she was reaching for something– I had seen that gesture before. She recognized the shiny metal, and her breathing became shallow.

Leo touched the metal to the spinning rings, which hadn’t slowed. They cut up the strip easily. Mera gasped. "It’s a weapon.” She tried to steady her breathing.

“Yeah, but it can be used for other things. Like scrap metal, if you want to melt it down– or music!” Leo blew on the object, and it made a low humming sound. Keaton nodded.

"It’s cool.” He said.

“Yup!” He reached into his toolbelt again. “This is one of my creations.” Leo showed Keaton a small mallet, then held a nail close to it. The nail stuck. " It’s a magnetic mallet.” He smiled. "I know they already exist but this one has a level and an emergency stop.”

“What?” Keaton beamed. He reached to touch it.

“Here. Play with it a little.” Keaton ran a hand along the surface.

“What’s this symbol?” It was the Heta many of Leo’s pieces had. Mera’s eyes widened. She shook her head. I shook my head as well. Leo took the sign.

"It’s my working symbol…” He blurted. “Uh, like, so people know it’s mine.”

"I guess,” Keaton said. Mera looked like she’d seen a ghost.

Meanwhile, Ari had been silent. They seemed humiliated, still, by us. It didn’t seem like the kid knew much about not getting their way. They didn’t say anything, but they watched. Maybe it was a good thing. They was learning a new skill, by finally listening and not talking. I wondered if they thought his powers didn’t work anymore… ooh, that would be a new one. “Guys.” He said softly. We all looked to them. “The shift.” Mera straightened her posture. She got on her tiptoes, whispered something in Keaton’s ear, and he flattened himself against the wall. I did, too.

I turned to Mera, who was on my right. “Would now be a good time to tell me what we’re doing? Also, I need to use the bathroom.” She winced.

"I should’ve told you to go before we left. And yes, I’ll tell you, right after I do this.” She slapped me.

“Ow! What was that for?” She clenched her jaw.

“You guys aren’t monsters, are you?” She poked my shoulder.

“No! What?" I tried to play dumb. Jason caught my eye. He nodded. I sighed. “Fine. We’re not monsters.”

“Who the heck are you, then?" I twitched and bit my lip. I tried to look anywhere but her face.

“Demigods." I finally managed. She looked like she was ready to knock me out cold, but when I let out the word, she softened.

“Really?” She began to lower her guard.

“Yes. Just– we can’t tell the others. I know you know, but– they don’t.” She wouldn’t meet my eyes. "I’m right, aren’t I?” She let out a sad breath.

“Yeah– but I mean, I did it so I wouldn’t hurt them. My–” she choked. “My sister told me that if they’re aware, that they’ll attract more of the monsters.” My eyes widened. “Why are you guys here?" I didn’t want to tell her the truth.

"I can’t tell you yet.” She brushed her hand against her leg again. I recognized the gesture, this time. Annabeth did this when she was going to fight someone. Her dagger was next to her thigh, so she could grab it. Her gray eyes stormed. I saw so much of Annabeth in her, it made my heart melt. She looked so much like me, though… There it was. The thought of children. I brushed it away. Mera now had her arms crossed. " It would make things worse.” She huffed, still, but I decided to ignore it. “What are we doing?”

“You said you liked water, right?" I felt my cheeks burning.

“Uh…” She checked her watch.

“Just on time.” The wall, which I had thought to be solid, slid open, a pneumatic hiss echoing in the hall. Leo’s eyes lit up. I reached for Riptide, but Mera shook her head like she knew what I was doing. She grabbed for what I now knew was her dagger (just like Annabeth, ah!) and poised her hand.

“Don’t stab me," I muttered. She glared at me. “Please?” She didn’t respond. Keaton was still holding the spinning pen gadget, but it didn’t look like he wanted to use it. He held Leo’s mallet in the other hand. Jason had his fist clenched, near his pocket. I knew he didn’t have a weapon, currently, so I wondered what he was going to do. Riptide was nestled in my back pocket.

A stout man stepped out onto the platform and hummed a tune. He had a mop and bucket. A janitor. He seemed content, but then he caught sight of us and exclaimed. “Hey!–” But was silenced when Ari clamped a hand around his face.

“You’ll be silent now.” Ari looked weary, like they wasn’t confident it would work, but the man’s eyes clouded over. He remained silent. Mera stepped in front of me and the hilt of her blade met the janitors forehead. He crumpled, unconscious. 

Mera blew a strand of hair out of her face, looking refreshed, and she stepped through the doorway. Ari looked newly rejoiced, like their confidence had leaped when their charmspeak worked.

“Alright, the man won’t stay unconscious forever.” Mera murmured. Jason straightened his glasses. “We have maybe 10 minutes at most, so work quickly.” She handed me her dagger, but I pushed it away.

"I have something else.” She raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything.

“Just, clog the toilet or something. We need to have the janitor distracted." I grinned.

"I’m an expert at clogging plumbing." I rushed off to the restrooms, which were labeled. Mera joined Keaton and Leo, and I saw them enter a room with lots of digital screens. “Okay, not a big fan of entering the women's restroom…" I spoke to myself as I entered the bathroom. It was empty, and my voice echoed softly. A shiver ran down my spine. I got to work quickly, shoving toilet paper down the plumbing, and concentrating to create a build-up. I brushed my hands together, proud of my work, and moved on to the men's restroom.

I walked into the first stall when I heard someone flush the toilet. I panicked and slid to the floor, under the stall, to knock them unconscious. I looked away. I had literally caught them with their pants down, and they didn’t look happy about it. I hit him with the flat of my blade. “Sorry man." I poked his limp body, sure that he was unconscious. “Well– guess I’ll leave you here, then." I then continued to clog toilets.

When I was done, I exited the bathroom. I went in the direction Mera and Leo and Keaton had gone, hoping to find them. I found the bottom half of Leo, and Mera at the largest screen. “Hi… guys…” Mera’s head jerked back to see me.

“Oh. Percy. You scared me. Keep watch, will you? And find Keaton. He disappeared to find Jason." I nodded slowly.

“Alright, but–”

“Just do it.” She growled. Then, she straightened her back. Her tone softened. “Sorry. Just, leave me alone while I finish this.”

“Okay." I peered over her shoulder, but all I saw were queries of numbers and colorful blanks. It made no sense to me, so I left. 

Mera’s POV ~

At first, I hated the new guys. I knew they were new. They couldn’t hide that. But I hated them.

Then, Jason surprised me by his random act of kindness. He punched the lights out of Ace, which was annoyingly heroic of him. I was still on bad terms with the others, though, and Jason was kind of unapproachable. He was tall and a bit haughty. His words had an edge to them like there was an urge to be stricter. He didn’t carry himself like Leo and Percy– they fit in. He seemed a little too regal– a little too… perfect. So I didn’t talk to him.

Then, all of a sudden, Keaton tried to convince me to include them in our little plan. He and Ari were definitely softening up to them. But I knew they had lied, and Jason was… a Grace. I had been hoping it would just be the 3 of us, like old times, but Keaton insisted.

Let’s be honest– I can’t say no to Keaton. It’s really, really hard for some reason. And he’s not like Ari. Only he has that effect on me. It like he can soften my hard exterior just enough to convince me into agreeing with him, even if it’s not what I want to do– yeah, okay. Back on track.

Besides, the guys could be a lot of help, since Percy and Jason were bigger than Keaton, and Leo was– Leo was Leo. And it would give me some time to interrogate Percy, who I had figured out was the softie. He would give in. I knew because when he saw me– it was like he recognized me. It was a flash. And he had this facade, of being tough– but I could tell he was longing for something. It was like me... kind of.

These were my thoughts as Keaton waved his hands frantically at Lunch. He was excited, recounting the tale of the night before, and Leo and Percy were into it. I had invited the three to sit with us.

Yes, me. I invited them. Shocker.

Ari had recently regained their confidence (which had lowered considerably after Jason stood him up and didn’t submit to his words) and was talking animatedly to Jason, who seemed to be a good listener. He was silent, but his head bobbed up and down periodically, and his face showed quite a bit of emotion. I picked at my salad. I didn’t feel like eating, for some reason. I couldn’t eat whilst I was thinking, usually.

And then my mind drifted back to my older sister. She had promised me she would contact me, that she would tell me about her life. She wanted me to join her. I wanted her to stay. Ever since our father had been killed by monsters, we had survived off each other. We would bounce from place to place, earn our right to lead in each gang we joined– and we were always quick-witted. She had looked after me for so long. She had been the thing dearest to me for so long. And sometimes she still was– but sometimes I felt a bitter love towards her. Like she had abandoned me, condemned me to this mentally and physically incarcerating lifestyle. But it wasn’t her fault. She and I had chosen different paths. I, to continue as a gang member, surviving with my wits– manipulating what I could to make a living, and she, to join her eternal hunting group. 

Worshippers of the Greek maiden goddess Artemis, they found us in Brooklyn. They had seen us and known we were demigods, children of both mortal and Greek deity. I did not comprehend what that meant. 

We had camped with them for almost a week– and they explained how our lives were so twisted. They told us about all the horrors that we had to endure– the mania that had eaten away at my poor father– and most of all, they talked about us. They would not relent on any details. They pushed me into a reality I had to accept as true. They pushed us both.

Then they offered us immortality. Thalia Grace and Artemis herself. They tried to convince me into pledging myself to their cause. They said that you would be forever a worshipper of Artemis– but you would refuse boys and other distractions as such. My sister was scared, and her fear made her weak. She accepted, because she now feared that if she did not join we would be overtaken. We would die. But I was not scared like my sister. I was only scared when she joined. She was so blinded by the pain of our father’s death, that she could not see any reason she wouldn’t join. I saw through it all. My sister’s pained expression as I politely neglected their offer– it burned at my insides. I saw Thalia’s expression. It was of shock. She had made joining their group seem impossible to refuse. But I was smart.

I still haven't heard from my sister since I left. It had been so long ago– more than a year, I could only think. But I had found Keaton and Ari– recognizing how they attracted the monsters. They were without family, too. I took them in. Never before had I felt such a connection since my sister left me. I had somehow lost my family and found a new one. I didn’t tell them, though. As much as it hurt me, as much as we fought off goons who were not human, not human at all. It pained me to hide that very important detail of their lives from them. But I knew that once they knew, we’d be overtaken.

Night after night, I cried because I loved them so much I couldn’t hurt them, even though my lies might hurt me more than I could ever hurt them. I had come close several times– but I had never told them. Not even a little. And they knew nothing of my past, besides my dead father and gone sister. Not more details, not the tiniest bit.

Keaton pulled my hood over my head and I choked on my soda. “Hey!" I swatted his hand away and poked his stomach. “Stop that!" I lowered my hood. Keaton stuck his tongue out at me.

“You were zoned out.”

“Yeah– Just… thinking. You know.” Keaton smiled sadly. Percy locked eyes with me. I felt him poking at my problems, just investigating my eyes for signs. I looked away, and his gaze dropped. “Who’s up for Apple Pie?” Ari sat up in his seat. "I have extra credits right now, and I would like to use them before they are revoked!” Leo giggled.

"I’m all for it!” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Could we stretch for a la mode?" I tapped my chin mockingly.

"I suppose…” Jason chuckled and swept a hand through his messy hair. I got up.

“How many slices?” Everyone’s hand went up. “That’s 6. You guys are going to be on a sugar high." I tsked and left to get the pie.

When I got back, Percy and Jason were hiding a phone under the table (Ah, regulation,) and Ari was interested in Leo’s “glamify-mirror”. Keaton was the only one who looked up. “Pie!” Keaton took one happily, and the others reached for a plate. I munched on my pie wholeheartedly.

“Mmmm…” Leo rubbed his belly, his mouth lined with crumbs. “This is good prison food." I lifted a finger.

“This is technically a juvenile penitentiary, state-of-the-art, built only to house troubled children." I pursed my lips a little.

“You know, sometimes you seem too uptight– but you can have a laugh,” Leo said pointedly.

" I don’t know if I should feel offended or not," I replied, finishing off my pie.

“That was fast.” Keaton took a finger of whipped cream and wiped it onto my nose. I gasped.

“This means war, Moore!" I brushed his cheekbone with whipped cream.

“Aw, come on, Mera.” He made his puppy dog eyes, pooching his lips out. I gave him a puckered smile, and then he hit me with a hand of whipped cream to the jawline. His hand pulled me forward, and we were dangerously close, but I took his wrist in my hand and wiped his own hand on his face. “Agh! You got me!” A fleeting feeling made me want to kiss him quickly, but I dismissed it. Hormones.

“You started it." I teased.

“That’s fair.” He distracted me long enough, and he put his whip creamed hand in mine.

“Ugh! I thought we had a truce!”

"I never said that." A smile played at his lips.

“Alright, come on." I led him off to go clean up.

[hexiewrites]

you can’t take the sky from me - ch one: follow the plan

a/n: *shows up forty minutes late with starbucks & a ridiculous rare-pair au that literally no one asked for* anyways, hi hello I am sorry I have been terribly absent and mostly just a nothing person?? ANYWAYS. I had this idea for a smut scene - a short drabble, you know - and couldn’t figure out a good background setting for it. and then I had this idea to do a space pirates au, which seemed fun and silly and like, idk, 3k tops?? i am so terribly sorry to inform you all that I am currently flying past 13k with absolutely no plans of slowing down or stopping. the outline is nearly 2k and divided into four??? sections and growing. @nymphadoraholtzmann​ drew me the schematics for a warp drive that we designed. everything has gotten very very out of hand and i’m still not entirely? sure how or why??? BUT the tldr here is that I kind of want to make sure this isn’t absolutely nuts and that SOMEONE is going to read it, so I figured I’d post the first chapter and see what the reception is. I probably won’t post the next chapter until I’m closer to being done the fic, unless you’re all super super into this and then hey, maybe I will - but expect another month or so wait, I think, before the fic starts posting in earnest. (I’m also tagging @olivieblake​, @provocative-envy​, @flintwoodandco​, @newt-scxmander​, @kyonomiko​, @ff-sunset-oasis​ - if anyone else wants to be tagged for updates, let me know!!)

what’s inside: space pirates, firefly (etc) ripoffs, probably-bad science, a not-insignificant amount of smut, lots of tropes, a fuckton of swearing, a huge assortment of rare pairs, a small bit of kidnapping, and probably at least one sappy talk about feelings. pairing(s): pansy parkinson/percy weasley (+ marcus flint/oliver wood, ginny weasley/luna lovegood, draco malfoy/theo nott/hermione granger, & more)

“Motherfucker,” she hissed, as the engine in front of her came to a screeching, stuttering halt. “That is abso-fucking-lutely not a good sign.”

It wasn’t. Pansy might not have a fancy school coding, or - really - even an instructional manual for the hunk of almost literal trash she called a ship, but she knew that under no circumstances was her engine ever, ever supposed to stop.

Huffing slightly and not taking her eyes off the unusually-still contraption in front of her, she reached out in the direction of her mod-com and punched at the buttons until a familiar tone buzzed to life.

“Cap?” she called out, pausing and waiting for the long-suffering sigh and the expected retort of, ‘how many gorram times have I told you not to call me Cap?’ and when it didn’t come after ten, then twenty seconds, Pansy started to panic.

“Draco?” she pressed, reaching out to hit a few buttons on her console in vain hopes that her ship would whirr to life again. “Theo?” Still silence.

Not good. Not good at all.

It only took another minute before Pansy decided that the engine was only one of her now rapidly piling up crises, and she turned back for the mod-com and started punching in individual numbers. Nothing from Draco or Theo’s room, nothing from the bridge deck, nothing from the kitchens. Finally, down in the hold, someone answered.

“Pansy?” came a gruff and slightly out of breath voice.

If she had been the type of person to cry, she might have.

“Flint?” Pansy responded, letting out a breath she hadn’t entirely realized she was holding. “Thank fuck. Flint, we’ve got a major effing problem down here. The engine has-”

“Pansy,” he spoke again, and this time his voice was slower, with a hint of warning coursing through it. The tone you only knew when you lived your life on the edge of legal, when you always had to worry - just a little bit - about the fact that at almost any moment you could potentially be arrested and imprisoned, or worse. Pansy knew that tone, and she heard it clearly, and her heart froze and sank in understanding.

The only reason her engine could ever stop spinning and her ship stay in the air.

“Is everyone okay?” she asked, thinking quickly of where her closest gun was, how many knives she had strapped to herself today, what they had in the cargo bay, if it would be better or worse to hit the Ministry or someone they owed.

Marcus swallowed audibly. “Dunno. Draco and Theo went with the first ship, fucking cocksuckers going on about legal operations and needing to find their papers and ‘probably just some big misunderstanding, Officers-’”

“Did they seriously think that’d work?” Pansy groaned, letting her forehead drop down onto the screen in front of her, tuning out the flashing red and the fact that her engine wasn’t actually still, but frozen - alive and hung in the midst of motion, buzzing like it was searching for a way out.

No way out, she thought, bitterly.

“Dunno,” Marcus hedged. “But, look. I’m trying to get rid of some of the worse shit we’ve got here. Pans, you’ve got to-” Marcus stopped and Pansy strained her ear, wincing as she realized she heard footsteps. Their hold was well hidden, but if it were a Ministry ship, they’d know where to go. “Look, they’re gonna be here any minute. Stay hidden, Pans. Try to stay with the ship, okay? You know the emergency plan, right? You know what to do?”

Pansy bit down on the inside of her cheek, running back through the endless lectures, Draco’s insistence on contingency and his stern reminders to ‘guard this ship with your fucking life, but don’t fucking die for it, am I clear?’. “Yeah,” Pansy managed to whisper back, trying to think if she could get them out of it. She couldn’t override Ministry engine blocks. It just wasn’t done. Maybe with enough time, but… not like this. Not when it could mean the lives of her men. Her crew.

Her heart lurched and she was reminded, again, that she hadn’t actually expected this. To be caught, maybe. Or to care if they were. The ship had been a way out, a way forward. Nothing more.

It shouldn’t hurt like this.

“Pansy!” Marcus was saying again, trying to get her attention.

“I got it, Flint. Follow the plan.”

The footsteps were louder now, and Pansy wasn’t sure if they were headed for her, or just nearly on top of Marcus.

Her heart clenched and she screwed her eyes shut as the only world she’d ever started to love began to crumble around her. “Marcus,” she mumbled, and she had to remind herself that she didn’t cry. Not over anything, especially not over shit like this. It was probably all going to be fine. “Don’t be an idiot, right? I expect to see you exactly when and where I’m s’posed to. You hear me?”

“I got it, Pans. Hey. Maybe when we see each other again, maybe we’ll… we’ll try this out again, eh? You and me?”

Pansy couldn’t help but huff out a laugh. “Yeah. Yeah, maybe we will. But if you want to fuck me again, you have to do me a little fucking favour and not try and be a fucking martyr and get yourself fucking killed, right?”

Before Marcus could answer, Pansy heard the hold door slam open. She tried not to listen to the gruff voices demanding Marcus back away from the cargo, to the way Marcus tried to laugh them off. Tried not to listen when she heard a gunshot, and she forced herself to reach up and shut off the channel before she heard anything else.

Her brain clicked sluggishly into action. Follow the plan. The engine room was far and away from nearly everything else on her ship thanks to the strange layout. She had time, and so she had a job to do. Delete contacts, clear location logs, erase things the ship shouldn’t be able to forget. Make them as unappealing as possible, empty, a skeleton crew. And then crawl into a space that maybe wouldn’t be noticed, and wait to be found. Or to be left, floating, abandoned for scavengers and thieves, for pirates.

For someone like her.

When Pansy opened her eyes, she was not alone.

It took her a moment to focus on the fact that, only a few inches away from her face, a pair of large steely bright blue eyes were peering down at her. Almost unblinkingly. It took her a moment to realize where she was - crammed into her safety spot, tucked down under a mess and tangle of metal. Frankly, she was shocked someone had even thought to look for her. And then she realized what had happened - the gravity of it all slammed down onto her and she gasped in a breath and reached for her closest kept knife.

And found that her hand was being held back - thin fingers wrapped around her wrist that she hadn’t even noticed. Presumably, she decided, connected to the blue eyes.

“Hmm. Alive after all, it seems,” the person - the man, she now knew - spoke. His voice was professional, clipped and serious. No joking lilt like Marcus, or the rich pompous drawl of Draco and Theo. It was plain, wholly unforgettable.

Pansy panicked. She couldn’t see much more than his face, wasn’t sure if he was Ministry or something worse. “What are you doing on my sh-” and then she paused, swallowed, licked her lips. That wasn’t the right play here. She was alone, had probably been drifting from the lights that flickered across the room on her control panel. This wasn’t the Ministry, or at least - not the main branch. She had to play it better than that. The blue eyes were still watching her and it was starting to become unnerving, and so she finally settled on what seemed like an easy enough question. “Who are you?”

Slowly, the eyes shrank as the man retreated, and then she felt herself being tugged rather unceremoniously out her her hiding space. She was thankful she hadn’t worn her typical work outfit that day, and although she missed the heavy weight of her toolbelt - she could see it glinting out from under where she’d stashed it - it was a good thing. The less culpable she was here, the better. Besides, her looser flowing trousers had more space for hidden knives, and she was thankful for all of those right now.

“None of your business,” the man continued, still holding firmly onto her wrist. He activated a com-device on his other arm and Pansy strained to listen.

“Ten-four, this is Wood, what’s your status?”

“Found a girl - alive, no crew signia. Ministry engine blockers, looks like, nothing of any value down here. No other signs of life that I can see.”

Pansy fought the anger that rose into her chest at his words. Nothing of value? Her ship - no value? She bit her tongue hard to fight from lashing out and worked instead at sliding her hand closer to her favourite knife, working it carefully loose from its sheath.

“Balls. Right, thanks Per-er, thanks, Weasley. Bring her up to the deck, nothing of use for us here, gents.”

Pansy noticed the way the man’s cheek twitched at the words from the other side of the comm, and she thought she caught the start of another voice - a frustrated female one from the sound of it - but the comm was off before she had a chance. Clearly, they weren’t usually scavengers, or at least, not very good ones. It was obvious the man, Wood, hadn’t been using code names, and he nearly let her current captor’s full name slip. A big mistake, in this business.

While this Weasley fiddled with his comm - pulling up a map, it seemed - Pansy seized her moment of distraction and shifted in his grip. Before her knife found skin, the taller (much taller, she noticed) man followed her actions and it was gone from her fingers before she had a chance.

“Good try,” he commented, his voice still almost flat. “Not quite good enough, unfortunately. No more of that, let’s go.” And then he had her hands locked together and she cursed under her breath at the use of the device pulsing around her wrists and restricting her movement. They were expensive, beyond the use of most scavengers. She was working with a different level now, and she needed to remember that.

Luckily, as they slipped through the door, she managed to reach out just an inch and hit the most important button on the ship. The one she had put there. If they were very, very lucky, the Ministry would fly out of range or the blocker would give up before the ship was stripped for all she was worth. If she was even luckier still, she’d make it away from whoever her current captors were, and this wouldn’t be the last time she inhaled the smoky air of her home.

Pansy didn’t cry, but today - she was closer than she had ever been.

[protocolveleno-blog]

The Great Big Vacation Intervention | Chapter 0 | Finale | Noboru Maruyama

Noboru had just flicked on his e-Handbook when the sirens began to go off.  He jumped and his hands went to cover his ears at the siren’s shriek. 

“Students, this is an emergency situation please make your way to the escape units on the fifth floor there has been a malfunction–” 

What in the world..!? 

Noboru barely had a second to react before the second explosion went off. Quickly, he slid his e-Handbook into the back pouch of his toolbelt.

Damn, there’s no time for him to check the e-Handbook now! He’s got to go!  

He rushed to the ballroom’s exit but suddenly turned back to meet the eyes of his fellow students. He recognized a few faces in the chaos: Seiichi, Yori, Catherine, Shorai, Mika…. But the robot said someone was missing..!? Who!?

C R E A A A A K 

A low grumble and shift of the ship snapped him out of his thought. There’s no to worry about them now!

Noboru pushed through the large doors of the ballroom and ran down the hallway to the stairway. He mentally thanked himself for taking the time to familiarize himself with the ship’s layout earlier.

Wait!  He stopped and sharply turned to yell down the hallway for any other lingering students. “This way!”  

Are they following!? He wanted to check, but delaying his own escape on the creaking ship could be deadly! They’ll have to fend for themselves!

Somewhere up the staircase he began to doubt himself. What if he was running the wrong way? His heart pounded with a mix of adrenaline, worry, and determination as he ran. 

The fifth floor! The escape units! They’ve got to be this way!

[hazelandglasz]

Kink(o)s

(Too long for the ask box)

(I think I have found a prompt) So, I went to print Sunshunes’ Klaine calendar today, And there was this kind of hot looking guy who was the printer, and he uploads the pictures for the calendar on his computer. And for May, there’s this picture of Blaine in a Tinkerbell skirt with his butt poking from underneath it, and when that picture was being uploaded, the guy sent me this weird look and it ABSOLUTELY MORTIFYING and REALLY EMBARRASSING /)w(\ . Maybe you could write it for Klaine? (Like one of them want to print something, maybe a calendar with hot guys, like I did, and the other one is the hot printer? Idek, it sounded better in my head) *blushing, flies off into the sun*

- Cherry

I changed your prompt a little bit but I hope you’ll like it ! And so sorry it took me so long to write it !

It’s for a good cause.

Blaine straightens up, squares his shoulders and pushes the door of the printer’s shop.

He and his classmates did not make the calendar out of vanity but, for one, to relieve their female classmates of the sexism in the basic organization of a sexy NYU calendar, and for second, to gather funds for the LGBTQA club.

Good cause.

Yeah.

That’s why they all let the whole costume department have fun with them, with costumes and props, after all–even if in some cases, the prop was actually nothing at all.

Not even clothes.

Blaine gets in line with a shudder at the memory of opening the door for his own shoot and finding Professor Neve, of all people, in his birthday suit.

He pats his pocket to make sure he has the USB key–honestly, he doesn’t know if he’s actually relieved to feel it under his fingertips.

To be even more honest, none of the “models” got to see which picture was used in the final calendar–Tina was adamant about having total artistic control over it, and since feminism was the big starting point of the whole project, nobody dared ask for even a look at it before taking it to the printer.

Blaine took so many pictures, so he really wonders which one made the final cut.

“Next!”

Blaine looks up and for a split second, he forgets what he is doing here, because the guy behind the counter?

Rocks that navy blue shirt.

“How can I help you today, sir?”

Well, it’s not exactly navy, more like lavender, but it really makes the man’s eye pop …

“Sir?”

And look at that fit …

“Excuse me, sir?”

Blaine shakes his head like he just emerged from a deep pool. “Sorry, I was …” contemplating throwing the calendar in the Hudson and ask you to model for it, “lost in thoughts.”

The man smiles and gives a little shrug of understanding. It makes the tag on his chest glint, and Blaine wastes no time committing that name to memory.

Kurt.

“What can I do for you today, sir?”

Blaine picks the key and slides it on the counter. “There is file on this key, should be name NYU Cal,” he explains as Kurt plugs the key in–just one try, this guy is clearly made of magic–, “I need to see first how it looks printed on glossy and mat paper.”

“Alright,” Kurt says, eyes on the screen as he opens the PDF file. “Oh a calendar?”

“Most of the drama department decided to give back to the community,” Blaine replies, leaning over the counter to look at the pictures too.

The cover is innocent enough, in NYU bright purple. The next picture is Kevin, who works in sets, with a … well it is his usual attire, bare his shirt–a toolbelt around his waist, and several paint splotches on his shoulders. He doesn’t look bad, and it’s a pretty good start.

Blaine discretely sighs in relief.

Before choking on air as Mr. February, aka Cupid, aka Pr. Neve, fills up the screen.

“Um …,” Kurt says, side-eyeing Blaine with something that is either bewilderment or completely judgmental.

“Our Renaissance drama history teacher,” Blaine says, suddenly finding the nuances of the beige countertop fascinating. See, there is beige, and some spots of darker beige, and lines of lighter beige and–

“Is there–is there a picture of you?”

Blaine looks up like a prairie dog out of its hole, eyes wide as he processes the words.

“Ah? Hum, maybe, I–I’m not sure, I mean,” he pauses, awkwardly chuckling, “I did pose for some pictures, but I don’t–”

Kurt nods, a definite pinker hue to his cheeks as he very firmly keeps his eyes on the screen.

Even the tip of his ears turns red while he clicks through the pages.

With a sense of purpose, it appears.

Blaine looks at him, sparing a glance for the screen when a particular image captures his eyes–oh, look, Elliott–until Kurt stops clicking.

And lets out a small whimper-gasp.

Oh Lord.

Which one did she end up picking???

“That’s, um … an interesting calendar,” Kurt says, trying to discreetly tug on his collar.

Blaine has to lean a little bit more to look at the picture–oh, a not so small part of him feels proud that he can make Kurt literally a little bit hotter under his collar, and who knows, maybe he could take care of said collar later on–and Kurt finally turns the screen towards him.

Oh Lord indeed.

“It’s for a good cause,” he manages to croak out, more for himself than for Kurt’s sake if he’s being completely honest.

“I’m sure.”

Kurt’s ears are on fire now, it should not be as endearing as it is–and yet.

“The LGBT club always needs more funds.”

Kurt is straightening up, and the corner of his mouth twitches into a smile. “With that calendar, funds are guaranteed.”

“Oh?”

“Guaranteed.”

“Oh!” Blaine blushes but refuses to look away now. “Thank you.”

Kurt smiles at him and shakes his head. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

“I would never.”

“I can … appreciate the aesthetic.”

“Hence my gratitude.”

“Hm.”

Blaine takes a deep breath and decides to just take a little leap of faith. “I could be even more grateful,” he starts, and Kurt stops typing on his keyboard, the unmistakable purr of the printer launched behind him, “if I could–that is, if you’d like, go on a coffee break? Date? With me?”

Kurt’s eyes are wide and Blaine is about to forget about the whole thing, the calendar, the date, all of it.

He can avoid this part of the city for the rest of his life, right?

“I’d love that.”

Or maybe just leave the whole cit–what?

“You–you would?”

“I would.”

They smile at each other like two idiots until the older woman in line behind Blaine clears her throat.

Oh, she smiles at them a bit too knowingly, but the fact remains that he is holding the line.

“Here are your two copies, in mat and glossy,” Kurt says, voice higher than a moment before. “Call m–call us to let us know how many copies of which you will need.”

On top of the two calendars, Blaine finds a folded piece of paper and puts it in his breast pocket. “I will.”

“You can pay at the front desk,” Kurt adds, nodding towards the counter where a black woman is watching them with a beaming smile. “And don’t mind her.”

Blaine laughs, reaching for the calendars just as Kurt pushes them closer to him. Their hands brush, and for a moment, Blaine lets his fingers linger. “See you later, Kurt.”

“See you later, Blaine.”

Blaine starts walking towards the counter when Kurt calls his name. “Blaine!”

“Hm?”

“Save one calendar for me?”

“Of course.”

Two months later, when Blaine comes to Kurt’s place for dinner–minus the black woman, aka Kurt’s best friend–the calendar has a place of honor in the entrance.

Except that it’s several months in advance.

Blaine is too busy kissing his boyfriend to comment on it, though.

[thuanwrites]

Passion of the Liger - Ch 21 - Sculptors Block

Clarence lay there on the cold stone floor, his arms and legs outstretched. He was in the Firgenduke library, which was an eight story tower made of stone and asphalt. It was unique for two reasons. One, it was built to enclose a giant seven and a half story stone obelisk, and two, because the top of the tower was a beautiful glass dome. A great spiral staircase coiled up the walls of the tower like a giant spring. Each of the seven floors above the ground level was shaped like a donut with a big hole in the middle to allow the tall stone to poke through. It was indeed a unique and beautiful building. But it was nighttime at the moment, and not much could be seen save for shadows and a few twinkles of starlight that could be seen through the glass roof. But tonight Clarence, Firgenduke's most popular and renowned artist, was not observing the tranquil beauty of the library. He had another more pressing concern on his mind. "Oh inspiration," he spoke up to the night, "Why hath thou forsaken me?" There was the sound of a page turning nearby. Seated next to Clarence was a girl her late teens. She was seated cross legged and had a little oil lantern next to her. She had a book open on the ground in front of her and seemed to be deeply engrossed in it. She had long blonde hair which she usually had up in a ponytail, but today she had let it down and it draped across her shoulders. She wore a distinctive red cape. "A little over dramatic don't you think?" "Over dramatic?" said Clarence, "Hardly. It has been nine months and I still haven't a clue what I'm supposed to do with this giant rock! I was supposed to sculpt it into something good. Something amazing. Something that would make us Firgendyke's proud. Something that people would travel from all over the map to visit. And what have I done in the last nine months?" "Nothing," said Skaife, eyes still glued on her book. "Exactly," said Clarence, "Nada. Zilch. Zero." He sighed. "I know what's wrong too. It's too much pressure. When I do my own paintings, drawings, sculptures, I'm just doing them for fun. And if they are terrible, what does it matter? It's only my name I would sully and I don't care about that. But this... this is big, and I don't just mean in size. This, everybody is watching. If it sucks then it affects all of Firgenduke! And it's not like a canvas where if I make a mistake I can just get another one. There is only one Firgenduke Obelisk. A stone that has been in Firgenduke for hundreds of years. What if I make a mistake?" Skaife dog-eared the page she was reading then closed the book. "Remember that time you were teaching that class in the library, the one where people could come in and practice painting or sculpting, and you gave them tips?" "Yes," said Clarence, "What about it?" "Remember that boy that told you he always had trouble sculpting, because he felt too indecisive about what to sculpt? That the pressure of chipping at the stone and not being able to take back mistakes was too much for him." "What did i say?" said Clarence. "You said a lot of things," said Skaife, "But the gist was, close your eyes, let the stone speak to you. Somewhere in that stone , it already knows what it wants to be. Its true, beautiful, flawed self. You need to quieten your mind and see it. And once you see it, all you need to do is chip away the bits of stone until all that's left is what it was meant to be." Clarence was quiet. "That sounds like something I would say." He sighed again. "Sometimes it's easier to give advice than to follow it yourself." He flicked his eyes up to look at the mighty monolith that towered above him. It felt like time stood still at that moment. The whole world was paused and the only thing that existed or mattered was him and this rock. And he knew it was his duty to make it what it was meant to be. And then he got a glimpse! It was like walking down the streets of your town and you catch the tiniest of tiny whiffs of a smell. A pleasant smell that somehow reminds you of your childhood. You don't know what it is, but you know that if you keep sniffing it, it will eventually come to you. "Skaife!" said Clarence excitedly, still with his eyes closed, "I think I'm getting it! I see a woman. She is beautiful. Looks rather like you actually. She has a serene, wise look about her. She is standing tall with great posture. She is looking down at something in her hands. It is an open book. She is reading this book. She is wearing a dress and a tiara. Oh, Skaife! I can see it! I must start sculpting now! Before I lose this image. Now is the time! Hook me up to the contraption!" Skaife was smiling gleefully. She put down her book and ran over to the metal box that was near the wall. It had levers and buttons and all manner of dials. She grabbed a leather harness that was lying on the box and brought it back over to Clarence, who had run over and put his toolbelt on. He had hammers and chisels and all sorts of arty-sculpty stuff on it. Skaife helped him put the harness on. "I wonder if this is safe?" said Skaife, tightening some straps. "The best engineers in Firgenduke made this contraption so I could sculpt this giant rock," said Clarence," I have absolute faith in them." Skaife smiled at Clarence. "You know you really are cool." Clarence chuckled and looked rather chuffed. Just then the door to the library opened, which was a real surprise as it was about midnight. "Sorry, we're closed," said Skaife. Clarence looked concerned. "I can't afford any distractions. I must sculpt it now before the image leaves my brain." They both looked over at the front door. Out of the shadows emerged a beautiful woman. Lena Straud. Clarence's wife. "Wifey!" said Clarence, "What are you doing here?" "I come with urgent news," said Lena. "Can't it wait?" said Clarence, "I've finally gotten an idea of what to sculpt. I have to do it now. I can't risk waiting and letting it fade from my brain. Right now I can literally see it in my imagination." "It's about Anton," said Lena. Clarence's eyes bulged. "What? Anton? What about Anton?"" "He has returned," said Lena, "He is waiting in Four-tooth's secret room at the tavern. The King is looking for him. he came to ask for our help. We should go to him before they find him." Clarence couldn't believe it. His best friend, Anton DiManlen who he had not seen for twenty years had returned. Was this a dream? He looked up at the giant store, the one that an entire city had entrusted him to sculpt. He could see the image of the woman with the book inside the stone. "Wait for me," he whispered to the woman in the rock. Then he turned back to Lena, "Let's go." Skaife helped him take off his harness. "You'd better go home, Skaife," said Clarence, "I need to help my friend with something. If I have time, I'll come back to sculpt." "I'll be at home," said Skaife, "Swing by and grab me and Ill come help you." "Thanks," said Clarence. And with that, Clarence and Lena Straud left the library and began running back to the Encumbered Adventurer tavern as fast as they could.