#this chapter was really fun to write

[illiana-mystery]

Chapter 2 is up! In this chapter, Alicia and Ed begin to hit it off and flirt with each other via video chat. And Alicia gets offered a teacher's aide position by Lou, which she happily accepts. Stay tuned for the next chapter where Alicia catches up with Lou over lunch. 

[true-blue-sonic]

A new chapter of Genesis is up! ^-^

[cappydoodle]

rereading my own fic and yeah I'm a comedic genius I think

[pastafossa]

Haunted (Matt Murdock x TRT!Reader, Fic, SFW)🌧️

Right, so close to 3 years ago, I had an ask in my box: 'what would happen if TRT!Reader/Jane Hind lost her memory just before returning to Matt after her three months away', aka: just before point where they both confessed their love and got together in mainline TRT. So I wrote up a fairly angsty, no happy ending sort of fic about it, which you can find here. But there just felt like there was more to the story, and the idea of a sequel wouldn't leave me alone, so I've worked on it in little bits and pieces over the past few years and I'm finally ready to unleash that into the world now that it's been edited to my satisfaction.

This will have a happy ending and hurt/comfort, once we swim through a lot of Matt Suffering. <3 Ship: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Chapter Summary:

Leaving him like that shouldn’t have bothered you as much as it did. You didn’t know him. This man should have been nothing more than a stranger on the street, one you wouldn’t glance twice at, much less feel some ridiculous sense of attachment or obligation to. Yet the memory of walking out of his apartment still left you shaken whenever you allowed yourself to think too long on it.  He… shouldn’t have been alone. That was wrong, somehow.  There was no memory attached to the thought, no blinking sign you could point to that would justify your growing unease. You just knew it. You knew it in the way you knew how to breathe, how to blink, knowledge etched into your very bones over and over by an unfamiliar hand. And no matter what you did, no matter where you went, you were unable to escape the feeling that… that you’d made a terrible mistake, broken something good, tilted the world on its axis until the whole of the city, the earth, the very sky hung just a little crooked like an off-center painting.  Matt was alone.  You’d left him alone.  It was the right choice, one you’d made dozens if not hundreds of times before. Hell, it should have been even easier this time since there were no memories to hold you back. So… why did you feel so very sick?

Wordcount: 11, 805 words so, hilariously, about 3 times the length of Part 1

Warnings for this chapter: angst, alcohol, matt spiraling fairly badly, he throws some things, LOTS of TRT references and spoilers so I wouldn't do this one unless you've finished the Miami arc in TRT.

Sad Matt gif as a reminder that the angst is pretty heavy here because I'm really going to emotionally beat on this poor man for a bit.

At Ciro’s insistence, you gave yourself one month in Hell’s Kitchen. 

A month wasn’t much time, granted, but it would hopefully be enough to see if there was a chance of bringing back the memories you’d lost: memories of friends, of your life here, and of… of whatever it was that you’d had with Matt Murdock. Based on his grief over the loss of Jane Hind—not you, but her surely, the role, the mask you’d worn while here—his attachment to her had been deep and fervent, and those feelings appeared to have been at least partly reciprocated. The dangerously intimate photo you’d found in your memory box was all the proof you needed of that. 

Your past self had already been accustomed to his touch when the photo was taken, based on the way she’d allowed him to press his head tenderly to her temple, his dark eyes warm and fond as he'd smiled in her direction even if he couldn't see her, his arm draped over her shoulders. She should have been put off by the proximity, by such a blatant show of physical intimacy, but instead of looking distressed, she’d been relaxed and comfortable where she’d confidently tucked herself up against his side. Try as you might, you hadn’t been able to find any hint of discomfort, any clue that signaled the obvious affection she’d felt was an act, her shoulder angled in a way that made you think she’d wrapped her arm comfortably around his waist, her grin bright and so very real.

This couldn’t be you.

When was the last time you'd looked that happy?

When was the last time you’d let someone hold you close? 

And when was the last time someone had looked at you like… like they might… 

“Did I… love him, Ciro?”

“I believe that… you might have, yes. Him, and this city. That is why I encourage you to stay, for a time at least. See if the memories return to you. Even should you leave, it would be wise to know of the life you led here.”

Ciro had sent a check to your office, booking you for the month and clearing your schedule. Just like that, you were free to focus on looking for something that might trigger the return of your memories. Though what that something might be, you weren’t really sure. A more thorough examination of the apartment had been your first step. Unfortunately, there’d been nothing there that seemed familiar beyond the same cheap decor and calculated set pieces you’d always used. You’d quickly ruled those out. They were meaningless distractions meant to reinforce the lie of whatever pre-planned identity you’d taken on. In this case, that identity was Jane Hind—practical, professional, detached, likes sailboat paintings and the color grey. Based on the fine layer of dust you'd found coating everything but the kitchen counter and a neat stack of mail, no one else had spent much time here during your months away. That, at least, fit your pattern. You weren’t in the habit of making friends or putting down roots. There was no point in doing so when you’d just wind up cutting them loose and running again. 

What had unsettled you far more were the hints of connection you’d found quietly tucked away:

A fleecy stuffed bear holding a plush crystal ball, the threads connecting the two uneven as if hand-stitched. That kind of time and effort wouldn’t have been spent on anyone but a friend, and the bear’s prominent position on the counter lent it far more importance than any of the other decorations.

A tacky ‘Handsome Devil’ coffee mug, the curling red script and clichéd devil horns design bizarrely out of place amongst the rest of the plain white mugs in the cupboard. An identity like Jane Hind wouldn’t have been caught dead drinking from it, which meant someone else was here with enough regularity to have a mug of their own. Further digging revealed a second decorated mug, this one adorned with the name of the law firm co-run by Matt. You could have written off one mug, but two? Two was a pattern.

An entire drawer in the dresser devoted solely to a pile of dangerously soft shirts that clearly didn’t belong to Jane Hind, the fabric threadbare and worn. They looked about the right size to be Matt’s, though, the faint traces of scent a match for him. The fact that they took up an entire drawer indicated he’d visited often enough to need a space for his clothes. 

You’d… made space for him in your false life. That wasn’t something you did.

Or had you been the one wearing them? 

Maybe…?

You’d spent a long moment holding one of the shirts in your hand, rubbing at the fabric in hopes of stirring something. When that hadn’t worked, you’d even brought it up to your nose to inhale slowly, just in case the traces of scent brought some memory back. 

Clean soap. Salt. Copper. Faint cinnamon. 

All it had done was remind you of holding a grieving Matt in his kitchen after he’d realized your memories weren’t coming back. It was a gloomy enough memory, but ultimately unhelpful.

You'd tossed the old shirt on top of the dresser and moved on. 

While you didn’t know who exactly you’d been here in New York, the longer you searched, the more it became clear what had happened. You’d started to slip, your years of isolation forming a crack in your layers of armor. That fracture had allowed an attachment to form, an insidious connection worming its way in through the open gap like poisonous roots through crumbling pavement. You’d grown weak, and careless. There was no other explanation for why you’d broken so many of your rules, dominoes tipping one by one until it cascaded into a waterfall of mistakes. You’d slipped before, of course—loneliness was natural and expected, which was why you had so many contingencies—but you’d never let yourself get in this deep. Not until now. 

What you didn’t know was… 

Why?

Why here? 

Why these people? 

And why the fuck hadn’t you followed your rules and run? 

If there was an answer to be found in Jane Hind’s apartment, you couldn’t seem to find it, no matter how hard you look, no matter how many of her belongings you dug through. Even your memory box had failed you, the photo of you and Matt at the back of your stack of pictures an outlier you couldn’t explain, this fruit of an as-yet unidentified poisonous tree. You had no real leads, no faint ringing of memory to guide you beyond a vague sense that, somehow, this started with Matt. You didn’t even know where to begin. 

At least, not until some shaggy-haired guy named Foggy—what the fuck kind of nickname was that?—showed up entirely and rudely unannounced at your front door, dressed in a cheap suit and wearing a bizarrely determined look. Despite your doubts, you reluctantly allowed him in. He made it pretty clear he knew you, and if you were lucky he could tell you more about your life here.

“So I know you usually skedaddle when things get uncomfortable, which I imagine they are at the moment. How long are you trying to stay?” 

“One month.” You shrugged casually, a cover for just how warily you were watching him as he paced in your—in Jane Hind’s living area. He knew far more about you than you knew about him, a reversal you were uncomfortably aware of. That vulnerability was almost enough to trigger a retreat beneath that cold, brittle shell you’d used long ago, though you quickly caught hold of that instinct and buried it back down deep where it belonged. Still, you couldn’t quite hide the cool clip to your voice, your walls firmly in place. “Leaving after that. Don’t see the point in staying if the memories are gone. Truthfully I’m not sure why I stayed in the first place, especially once it was clear I was getting attached. No offense.” 

“None taken, my hopefully-still-friend-when-your-memories-come-back.” He abruptly swiveled on his feet to face you, squinting at you thoughtfully. “How badly do you want your memories back?” 

You thought of out-of-place mugs and hand-stitched psychic teddy bears; of faint cinnamon and a worn photo frame; of the way you’d held a broken Matt in his kitchen until he’d carefully pushed you away and asked you to leave, his face closed off and distant despite the tears on his cheeks and yours. 

You’d… been someone here. Someone cared for. Someone whose loss was mourned.  

Even if you left, you needed to know just who that someone had been, if only so you could make sure this never happened again. Not until you reached your island in the sun. 

“Badly enough to stay for the month,” you said quietly. 

“Then put some shoes on. We’re going on a memory hunt.”

Over the next few weeks, Foggy took you all over Hell’s Kitchen. 

You visited Jane Hind’s office, abandoned warehouses, and empty rooftops covered in thick blankets of snow. He reintroduced you to Karen, to your upstairs neighbors, and to a bartender who didn’t seem all that inclined to be introduced to anyone. You drank crappy beer and slightly less crappy vodka, played pool, and went to the zoo to stare for far too long at penguins, which Foggy refused to explain no matter how much you pressed. He had you focus on sights, on smells, on sounds that might trigger a memory. He joked with you in between, and he was just funny enough, friendly and clever enough, that for the first week or so, you were consistently cracking a smile. Hell, you even laughed now and then, much to your surprise. He really did know you, enough so that you gradually began to relax around him, just a little. He was likely hoping the addition of a friend’s voice would bring back what you’d lost, especially when paired with all the other sensations. 

But no matter how much you both tried, your memories remained lost. 

God, you hadn’t thought this would… would hurt as much as it did. Yet with every day that you failed to find your way back to who you’d been, the more that fierce ache, that old longing inside you grew. Your smiles became brittle, your laughter fading, until both finally dried up like withered, crumbling leaves beneath a bitter frost. You couldn't help pulling away really, not when your soul curling up in the dark might protect you from the agony of knowing that maybe, just maybe, you’d finally found what you'd always wanted. How fitting that it had been ripped away from your bloodied, desperate hands like so many times before, one more square for the filthy patchwork quilt of shredded lives and possibilities you’d been forced to leave behind. What was worse: even your memories of that seeming joy had been stolen, too, leaving you with nothing left to carry but the tattered scraps of a ghost and the photograph of a stranger wearing your skin.

It shouldn’t have been possible to miss what you couldn’t remember. Yet here you were missing it all the same. 

It didn’t help that Matt was avoiding you in every way that mattered. You’d thought about calling him if only to ask him questions about your life here, but you could never quite work up the courage to do it. He must have felt the same since he hadn’t reached out to you, either. And why would he? He knew as well as you did that your memories likely weren’t coming back. It made sense to cut that connection, tear it away like a weed before the roots could do more damage—something you should have done sooner, for both your sakes. What you hadn’t expected was just how good he was at dodging you, somehow absent no matter how many places Foggy took you to, places he swore Matt frequented with you when you’d lived here, as if Matt’s mere presence might be enough to trigger some memory in you. Had he been that important? Either way, it didn’t matter. You hadn’t seen Matt once since you’d walked out, doing your best to ignore his hitched breath as you’d opened the door. You’d forced yourself to ignore, too, the broken, agonized sound of grief that he’d let out as you quietly shut the door behind you, leaving him alone. 

Leaving him like that shouldn’t have bothered you as much as it did. You didn’t know him. This man should have been nothing more than a stranger on the street, one you wouldn’t glance twice at, much less feel some ridiculous sense of attachment or obligation to. Yet the memory of walking out of his apartment still left you shaken whenever you allowed yourself to think too long on it. 

He… shouldn’t have been alone. That was wrong, somehow. 

There was no memory attached to the thought, no blinking sign you could point to that would justify your growing unease. You just knew it. You knew it in the way you knew how to breathe, how to blink, knowledge etched into your very bones over and over by an unfamiliar hand. And no matter what you did, no matter where you went, you were unable to escape the feeling that… that you’d made a terrible mistake, broken something good, tilted the world on its axis until the whole of the city, the earth, the very sky hung just a little crooked like an off-center painting. 

Matt was alone. 

You’d left him alone. 

It was the right choice, one you’d made dozens if not hundreds of times before. Hell, it should have been even easier this time since there were no memories to hold you back.

So… why did you feel so very sick? 

Sympathy. 

That was all you were feeling. Matt was grieving a woman he’d cared about, one who’d died and left a cold stranger in her place. It was normal to feel for someone in that much pain, and no one should be alone while grieving. Maybe this was for the best. The sooner you were fully out of his life, the sooner all his friends and family could step in, and the sooner he could move on. He wouldn’t be alone, then. And even if he was, his loneliness wasn’t your goddamn problem. You had more than enough troubles of your own.

Protect yourself. 

Protect what you might one day have. 

All else was irrelevant.

You just… hoped he was doing alright. 

He did his best to avoid you, but that only grew more difficult once your ghost began to haunt his every step.

Even Josie’s quickly became off-limits—something he discovered one night when he stepped through the front door where he was promptly met with the familiar, comforting scent of you floating like a haze beneath the smell of cheap beer and sour sweat. His body went rigid the moment he recognized it, your presence across the room a sharpened knife that only widened the wound carved into him by your death. And if the scent of you was a knife, then your bark of laughter was a cruel twist of the blade, one that left him gutted and shaking there in the doorway. He drank in his apartment after that, waiting for that blessed moment when he would feel nothing, waiting for the very second the glorious shroud of night fell. Only then could he finally escape to the streets and drown himself in a far better kind of pain, taking his rage and his grief out on whatever piece of shit had the misfortune of falling into the Devil’s path. 

But Foggy seemed determined to shove the specter of you directly into his face. 

“You need to talk to her!” Foggy snapped, his voice only just shy of a shout. Matt ignored him as he headed for his office, desperate to retreat from your scent lingering on Foggy’s clothes. Foggy had taken you to a coffee shop that morning, one you’d frequented when you’d lived here, and now each inhalation was a vicious torment. It felt like breathing in shards of glass, the sharp pain of it throbbing with every stuttered, choked breath he drew in. If Foggy noticed, he didn’t seem to care. “Christ, Matt! You love her and we both know it. If you talk to her, it might trigger something—”

“Stop,” Matt grit out, reaching up to scrub his hand angrily over his face. He stalked his way over to his desk, still desperate to escape somehow, even if it was into his work. “Just stop, Foggy. I did talk to her, and you know what happened? Nothing. She didn’t remember anything at all. She’s gone, and you dragging this out is just making everything worse for all of us.” 

“So what, you’re just gonna roll over?” Foggy scoffed, crossing his arms as he planted his feet in Matt’s doorway. “Are you sure you actually loved her? Because I’m pretty sure she loved y—”

Matt slammed his fist down on his desk, the furious crack of it echoing through the office like a gunshot as he shouted, “Don’t you fucking dare!” 

Tension hung thick in the air as Matt’s chest heaved, his teeth bared, blood and adrenaline running hot in his veins as if Foggy were some sort of-of threat. Everything in him shook with rage, or maybe unshed grief, the burden of them both impossibly twisted and tangled beneath the sea of his guilt and his self-loathing until he couldn’t tell which was which. He just couldn’t—how was he supposed to force it all down when Foggy had just come so close, so dangerously close to shattering what few pieces remained of Matt’s crumbling armor?

It was bad enough loving you the way he did only for you to slip through his bloodied, desperate grasp like whispering grains of sand. What was worse, this entire disaster was one of his own making, a series of mistakes whose snarled, winding paths led inevitably back to him just like they had so many times before in his life. This loss of someone who’d truly understood him, accepted him, cared for him had already broken something inside him he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to repair. But that fracturing inside him would surely rise up to consume him if Foggy were right, if you’d truly cared for him that deeply before your memories were taken, so deeply that you might even have…

I miss you, sweetheart.

…loved him the way he loved you. 

Abruptly Matt’s surge of rage drained away and his head fell, leaving him feeling all the more empty and broken. He braced his arms weakly against his desk, drawing in a shaky breath as he forced himself to confess, his voice gone hoarse and ragged with grief. “I loved her, Foggy.” He lifted one shaking hand to his face. “God, I loved her so, so much. I can’t… I don’t know what to do without her now that she’s gone.” “I know, Matt,” Foggy said gently. “I know.” “I loved how she always smelled a little like coffee, and the way she always managed to wind up climbing into the oddest places for a case. She had one of the foulest mouths I’ve ever heard, but I swear she could use it to talk her way out of almost anything or to bring someone up out of whatever dark hole they were trapped in. She was… far kinder than she’d ever admit.” His lips quirked, but there was no humor in it, the expression miserable and gutted. You’d have likely argued with him about how kind you were if you’d been here. But there was no chance of that now, no matter how much the scent of you on the air told him otherwise. “Some days it felt like she was the only thing holding me together, like the only time I could breathe was when she held me in her arms. She was always there when I fell apart, or when it all… when it all started to hurt too much. And I tried to give her whatever pieces of me the Kitchen hadn’t already taken, to be there for her like she was for me, to keep her safe. We were finally going to make our relationship official when she came back, her and me, even if there’d… already been something there for a while now if I’m honest.” 

And it had, it had been there, this soft, tender thing that had developed slowly but surely between the two of you, a tangling that came by degrees rather than all at once. It had sprouted, grown, and blossomed so gradually that even now he struggled to point to any one moment where it had truly begun—the night he found you in the warehouse, maybe, or that first game of Devil Hunt, or when you’d both almost taken the leap before he’d realized you were drunk. But the question of where it began didn’t matter. All that mattered was that it was there, something nameless yet still so good and warm and perfect, a connection nurtured in the low light and the blood-soaked soil of the Kitchen. You’d felt it just like he had, and you’d been willing to take that chance with him despite the baggage he carried behind him like an anchor destined to drag him down. You never would have agreed to kiss him when you came back otherwise. Now that chance was gone. 

“How much did she know before she left?” Foggy asked quietly, leaning against the doorframe. 

”She knew that I-that I wanted to be with her, but I never told her that I loved her.��� Matt blew out a slow, heavy breath. “I was too scared of chasing her away, I guess. I thought maybe when she came back, if she still wanted me, I would… I decided that I would tell her. But I waited too long. Now she’s gone and I’ll never be able to tell her. All because of me.” 

He finally lifted his head, tipping it at Foggy. Neither of them dared mention the wetness on Matt’s cheeks. Even speaking about this—about how much he’d loved you only for him to ruin it—was almost more than he could bear, the edges of the wound still fresh and raw. Then again, maybe he deserved that pain after how miserably he’d failed you, just like everyone else in his life. “I miss her. And what’s worse is even when she’s right there in front of me, she’s not. She’s not, Foggy. Because I-I fucked up. I’m the reason the woman I knew, the woman I loved, died. I’m the reason she’ll never remember what we had, why I’ll never hold her again, and why she’ll leave New York at the end of the month like she does whenever she’s afraid of forming a connection.” He let out a bitter laugh, waving towards the windows, towards the place you’d once held dear. “I couldn’t even keep her here before. She almost ran last summer and the only thing that stopped her was being kidnapped. That was what slowed her down long enough for our thread to turn red, not me. She won’t let that happen a second time, not now that she’s seen what happens to people I care about. Do you understand?” 

The door to Nelson and Murdock creaked open, Karen’s voice making its way in first. Her voice was followed only a moment later by another’s, one still so familiar. 

“—I mean, winding up in a pool while chasing a kid sounds about right for me, so even if I don’t remember, I won’t argue—”

“I had to keep you here somehow.” Foggy’s voice remained quiet, but there was no disguising the ferocity in it now, the fervent belief. “Get out of your own head and talk to her, Matt. Fight for her. She would want you to.” 

No. 

No, no, no.

Your body may have been here, whole and real, but the woman who’d known him wasn’t. The song of your voice, your sweet scent, the flames of heat and stirred air currents around you flaring into a familiar shape: all of it was nothing but a lie, a snare for his senses, a ghost of his own making, and he wasn’t about to be caught by it again. 

He darted back around his desk, shoving his way past Foggy on the way toward the front door, his heart racing. If he was quick, if he just put up enough of a front, he could get out before they trapped you here with him like they’d planned. He wouldn’t relive this grief again, he couldn’t, not without falling apart. The moment he’d had with you in his apartment had been enough agony for one lifetime. 

“Hey, Matt.” You cleared your throat, shifting awkwardly on your feet where you’d stopped by the front door. Your stance was cautious and guarded, almost wary of him. It was just one more reminder of how uncomfortable he made you now. “Are you—”

“Heading out,” he said stiffly, only belatedly remembering to trace one hand along the wall as if his heightened senses hadn’t given him a clear map of the room the moment his adrenaline spiked. That spike was a curse all its own. It made the scent of you so much stronger, the lie of it fresh and present as it twined around him. His chest hitched just once before he forced himself to breathe his mouth. But that route of escape had been cut off, too. All it did was shift his focus to the taste of you on the air, and the taste of familiar fabric once so tenderly given. 

You were wearing one of his shirts. 

He fumbled for his cane, his hands starting to shake before he finally found it where he’d left it against the wall. He couldn’t let you see him like this. It wasn’t your fault that you didn’t remember him, nor was it your fault that he’d lost you. He’d done enough damage without adding a layer of guilt to what you were dealing with, too. But despite his attempts to hide what he was feeling, his face a hard mask, your fingers still brushed gently against his arm a moment later. It was an offer of help, or maybe an attempt to reach out, to slow him down, to connect. It was a kindness, a sympathy he didn’t deserve. Even now, you read him far too well, this touch the same as it had been that first night he’d met you when you’d gently brushed your hand against his arm. “Hey, do you need… I could walk you home.”

He shied away from your touch, finally managing to roughly unsnap his cane before going for the door. “I’m fine. I just—I have things to take care of. Excuse me.”  

He went straight home and showered, but no matter how many times he scrubbed, he couldn’t seem to wash the ghost of your scent away.

You slowly wandered around Matt’s office, taking it in. This was another place you’d supposedly frequented, a place that should have been familiar, and one you'd avoided until now.

Even though Foggy had assured you it was alright, it felt… almost wrong to explore a stranger’s space like this without them present. But you couldn’t help but brush your fingers across the battered desk and the small labels in braille you couldn’t read, run your hands along the chair for clients that you might have sat in once, and trace curiously the small seashell next to Matt’s laptop. The base scents of Matt were stronger here where he spent so much time, only partly erased by the smell of coffee and paper. The room was clean, cared for, and well-organized despite how rundown the office was. Important to him. You could tell that much, even if the scents and sights had failed to spark any memories.

Maybe… knowing his space wasn’t enough. 

This was about more than just figuring out who you were, now. For some reason, you needed to know who Matt was, too: this man Jane Hind had cared so much about and who’d cared so much about her. You told yourself it was practical. Matt was your best bet when it came to remembering who you’d been. But some part of you deep down recognized the lie. No, there was something in you inescapably drawn to him, a pull you couldn’t quite explain. Maybe that strange, unnatural gravity was what had started this whole mess in the first place. What was it about him that was so different, that had driven you to break every last rule you’d lived your life by for over a decade? 

And why… did you spend so long wondering if he’d ever climbed out his office window?

It had been twenty-nine days, and not a single memory had returned. 

Oh, there were beats now and then when you thought that maybe, just maybe something was coming back, but those moments were painfully few and far between. Even in those moments, you couldn’t say remembered anything, exactly. It was more a frustrating sense of deja vu, a fleeting little itch at the back of your mind like you’d forgotten something important, flashing road markers to warn you of the dark, empty gaps in your memory. That sense was probably driven at least in part by Foggy’s growing desperation as he frantically hunted for something that might trigger a return of your memories. 

But the rest of that feeling… the rest was all you. 

There was no denying a traitorous part of you wanted to remember no matter how ill-advised it might be. You wanted to remember this bizarre little family you’d stumbled into and then lost, just like in Los Angeles. You wanted to remember the love you’d had for this place, this city, this taste of mutual affection that had grown up around you after going so long without. After endless ages and ages of drought, of starvation, you hungered for even these bare crumbs of connection, something to tide you over until you found safe haven on the distant horizon. What a tempting thought it was to slither back into the life of this woman who’d been so cruelly murdered and replaced by a stranger wearing her skin.

Was this what a demon felt like when it took over a body? To walk around with someone else’s face, to speak with the unnatural voice of the dead, tormenting the loved ones that remained? 

That, ultimately, was why it didn’t matter what you wanted. Your presence in this city only spread rot and suffering. It would be better for everyone involved if you left like you should have long before now. Then they could all grieve without you tainting the very soil around them. 

Especially Matt. 

You’d seen him once or twice in passing as your time in New York wound down. Even at a distance, you’d marked the growing circles under his eyes, dark enough to be visible despite the glasses he always wore. The rest of him wasn’t doing much better. It seemed like every time he crossed your path, there was another bruise, another cut across his face or knuckles, a shifting canvas of pain painted across skin grown pale and drawn. He didn’t just look tired—that wasn’t what this was. This was something far worse, a haggard exhaustion, a weariness that couldn’t be solved with sleep, if he slept at all. This was someone being haunted. 

Probably because the ghost of Jane Hind kept crossing his path. But that would be solved soon enough. 

You’d already packed up your things, not that you had much to take. Just your bag and your memory box. You’d be leaving the next day. Foggy was still convinced he had a few more days, but you had other plans. You couldn’t give Matt back the woman he’d lost, nor could you give him a body to bury, a grave to lay flowers across, but you could give him what Jane Hind had carried with her until her dying breath. 

“I thought you might… want these before I left tomorrow,” you said quietly. “I… sorry, it’s… it’s a bag with my—with her things.” 

Matt took it carefully from you, the motion mechanical and stiff. He hadn’t really invited you the rest of the way into his apartment, the two of you now stalled out in the hallway just beyond the closed front door. He hadn’t taken his glasses off, either. It made it harder to read him, his face closed off and impassive, a wall of red glass placed firmly between you. Come to think of it, you hadn’t seen his eyes even once since that day you’d first come back, and you didn’t blame him. You didn’t like feeling vulnerable, either, though that was just a guess when it came to what he might be feeling. 

“It’s the shirts from her apartment, which I think are yours. And the stuffed bear.” You bit your lip and released it slowly, shifting uncomfortably on your feet. “And the… the mug, which Nelson said was yours, too. The one you used at her place. I also put the hoodie in there, the one she had with her while she was traveling. And…” You reached into your pocket, fumbling for a moment. God, you were bad at this, unsure of just how to do this without hurting him any more than was absolutely necessary. It wasn’t a concern you usually dealt with since your goal was almost always the exact opposite, a precaution meant to destroy any threads of connection they held with you. Unfortunately, he wasn’t giving you much to work with, though you didn’t miss his subtle flinch when you drew the key from your pocket. “I thought you might want this, too.”

You cautiously edged forward, daring to breach the ring of radiant heat that surrounded him, the closest you’d come to him in almost a month. He went stiff as you approached, his jaw growing tight as the gap between you both closed. Another step, and his head cocked as if he were listening to your footsteps, or maybe… maybe he was just waiting to find out what you had to give him. But he wasn’t telling you to fuck off or just set your gift aside, which was a good sign. So you hesitantly reached out and brushed your fingers lightly against his bicep, a signal so he knew you were about to pass him something. 

A breath.

He remained absolutely still amidst the sudden, crackling tension in the air as your fingertips skated gently down and around his forearm, stirring all the little hairs, his skin shockingly warm. All you’d intended to do to take his arm and guide it up so you could place the key in his hand, but you quickly found yourself distracted by a ragged scar along the back of his forearm, one your fingers seemingly made their way to on instinct. It was a deep scar, the original cut likely made by some sort of blade, the edges of it rough and uneven from messy stitching. Your curiosity got the better of you, so much so that you missed the way Matt had begun to hold his breath.

“Who fucked up the sutures on that?” You furrowed your brow, your thumb smoothly marking out the jagged line of it. “They did a terrible job. No offense.” 

Matt’s face fell and you only realized too late just who it was that must have patched him up. 

Before you could blink, he’d yanked his arm out of your grip as if your touch had burned him. “Don’t,” he grit out, his chest heaving as he put a few steps distance between you both. “You can—just put your key on the bench.” 

“How did you know—” “Because there’s only one thing left it could be.” 

You nodded weakly, taking a few steps back towards the little bench beside the door. That unfamiliar ache, that sense of wrongness was back, the weight of it settling uneasily in your chest like a stone until you almost wanted to retch. It didn’t help that Matt was just barely holding himself together while you were here. 

Best to say what you’d come to say and leave him be. 

You gently set the key down, and the quiet click of the brass against the wood seemed to echo in the hallway, a graveyard bell tolling with a looming sense of finality. What you were about to tell him would hurt, you knew it would, but maybe one day he’d find comfort in it. This—a sign of what she’d felt—was the real gift you’d truly come to give, the only true token of her you could offer. Your words, when you spoke, were almost as hoarse as his. “I thought you should know I… she wore it. The key. I asked them. She wore your key and she never took it off. Not once. Whatever you both had, she treasured it, and all she wanted was to get back to you. She didn’t leave you by choice, Matt. I hope that… that helps.” 

Of all the things you’d said and done, it was this that finally seemed to break him. His face twisted in a sudden wave of grief, and regret hit you all at once. You quickly took a step towards him, one hand out, though you weren’t sure what you’d do if he reached back—it wasn’t like you knew how to comfort him, and you sure as hell didn’t know if he’d tolerate you holding him again, nor whether he was someone that needed some sort of touch when he was hurting. But before you could take another step he’d flinched away from you, retreating quickly back into the darkness of his apartment, his voice ragged. “Just go. Get out.” 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, backing away towards the door. “I’m… I’m so sorry.”  

It shouldn’t have hurt as you closed that door one last time. But you cried all the same. 

Somewhere within the apartment came the sound of splintering furniture and a hoarse scream wracked with grief.

“Look, Nelson.” You tiredly adjusted the strap of your duffle bag over your shoulder, reaching up to pinch at the bridge of your nose as if it would stem your growing headache. “I know it’s a day early. But another twenty-four hours isn’t going to make a fucking difference.” 

“I don’t need another day!” he pleaded, his arms spread wide where he’d blocked your front door, ensuring you couldn’t leave your apartment until you’d heard him out. You’d had no idea he even had a key until today and, not for the first time, you cursed Jane Hind’s apparent lack of common sense. You did not give out keys, or at least, you hadn’t before coming here to this ridiculous fucking city. “Just five minutes. That’s all. I’ve got one last thing to try.”

“Maybe I don’t want to try one more thing!” you snapped bitterly, dropping your hand. That anger was a good cover for the way something sharp and prickly had begun to catch in your throat, the incident with Matt still fresh in your mind. “I’ve tried for a month, and it’s gotten me nothing. Fucking-fucking bars and random rooftops and a shitty little duck, goddamn penguins and keys, and none of it did shit! Jane’s gone, ok? She’s dead. And I’m sorry, I know you all cared about her, but I’m done—”

“Have you climbed inside a thread?” 

“...What?” you asked in sudden bewilderment, your rage abruptly faltering in the face of pure confusion. “What the fuck does that even me—”

He let out a whoop, practically dancing on his feet. “Yes! I knew it! I can’t believe no one told you!” 

“Told me what?!” You chucked your bag back onto your couch in sudden exasperation. If this was thread-related, at the very least you could stay long enough to listen. “There’s nothing to climb!”

“Ok, so stick with me.” He rubbed his palms together eagerly, a bright light in his eyes. “Because I’m about to get really metaphysical.”

It took you what felt like hours to climb inside the shimmering honey-colored thread that lay between you and Matt—a thread that sang with his sorrow and your reluctant sympathy. 

It wasn’t right having your soul constricted like this, all of who you were narrowing down into something so small as you squirmed through a barrier that tasted and felt like dirt and earth, chasing after the sound of trickling water. There wasn’t supposed to be anything on the other side. It was an emotional connection, nothing more.

And yet here you were, standing in a place that had no reason to exist.

“Holy shit,” you whispered in amazement, spinning on your heels to examine your surroundings. “Holy shit, he was right.”

Despite the late hour, the air was full of a muted light that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere all at once, tinting the world a hazy, eerie green. High up above you roiled thick, sullen black storm clouds, silent flashes of red lightning carving their way between swirls of charred smoke. It wasn’t much light, but it was enough to see by.

And what you saw was heartbreaking. 

You stood in a dry, stony riverbed. The ground beneath you was cracked and brittle where the water had receded, leaving behind nothing but dust and broken branches. The river itself remained though just barely, the thin trickle of flowing water down the center of the riverbed a far cry from whatever immense force had carved its way through the landscape until the banks were a good ten paces from one side to the other. The terrain beyond the river didn’t look much better, wilted, drooping cattails dotted up the bank before giving way to endless forest that stretched farther than your eye could see. Like the cattails and scrub, the pine and fir trees stood withered and brown, casting their empty branches up toward the sky. 

If it had been beautiful here once, whatever had happened to you had destroyed that beauty. 

“Jesus,” you whispered. 

“Can you hear me?” Foggy’s voice sounded distant and far away, tinny like he was talking through a long tunnel. 

“Yeah. Can you hear me?”

“...Ok, if you’re trying to respond, I can’t hear you. But according to Matt, whenever you were here, it felt like memories. So poke around, see what you can find.”

You sighed and started down the riverbed. “Not super helpful, but ok. Let’s give it a shot.” 

The water was the most obvious place to start, and you made your way over to the thin stream that ran raggedly across the parched soil. Much to your fascination, you quickly discovered that what you’d thought was one current was actually two, one layered over the top of the other, each flowing in the opposite direction. The first of those currents hiding on the bottom was fairly calm, steady if a little restless, swirls of pale color that almost felt like curiosity, though how you understood that translation was a mystery. The second current seemed far rougher where it roiled atop the first, its section of the stream cloudy and thick with swirls of black and the red of an open wound. You hovered over the second current for a long moment, working up your courage, before you finally knelt and hesitantly brushed against it with one finger. It was just water. How bad could it be? 

The moment your skin made contact, your chest seized on a sudden swell of agony. Your mouth filled with the taste of grief, with the sound of an empty home, the lack of some familiar scent that meant affection and warmth and softness and safety, the ache of an old wound reopened just when it had started to heal. Alone, always alone, I deserve it, so many gone, he was right, when will I learn? There was no hope for comfort from that pain, no escape from the darkness into tender arms that could hold you just right when it all hurt. All you had to look forward to was more— 

You threw yourself backward, scrambling away from that terrible current as if what you’d felt might rise up and chase after you, snapping its teeth the whole way. You didn’t stop retreating until your back slammed against the dry soil of the riverbank. Only then did you stop, panting, your eyes wide in shock as you cradled your hand against your heaving chest. 

Emotion. It’s emotion.

That was what the water was. Matt’s emotion. Which meant the other current—one now shifting back to yellow despite a momentary surge of twisting, roiling black—was… yours. 

Right. So you could rule the water out. But if that was emotion, where was memory? 

Examining the rest of the river was the most obvious next step now that you’d ruled out the water. Based on what you could see, the original riverbed had been a mix of silt and stones of varying sizes, a firm foundation beneath a once-powerful river. Now, though, the grey, dried-out silt was covered in a strange sea of divots and dips, as if something—a lot of somethings—had been plucked up and removed. You traced one of the indents in the soil curiously, lifting your hand back up to consider the grit as you rubbed it between your fingers. Another glance around revealed the answer. 

The stones. 

There were still plenty of stones remaining in the riverbed, but the divots in the dry silt told you there’d once been far more. If that was what you’d lost, then maybe…  

You rocked up eagerly to your feet, pacing around breathlessly as you searched for a promising stone to start with. Eventually you made your pick, plucking up a stone just small enough to fit in your palm, flat and smooth save for a little groove in it as if someone had run their fingers over it endlessly. Strangely, it smelled like honey and herbs, the surface oddly warm against your hand like the brush of a thumb against your mouth. You waited for a long, impatient moment, and when nothing else happened, you tapped it a few times. 

Still nothing. 

And something inside you… cracked. 

“Fuck!” you screamed, hurling the stone back down the river in a sudden rage. The pain and the loneliness you’d been suppressing for the last month, the last year, the horrible, endless eternity since leaving your family in Los Angeles began to claw its way up your throat, the clouds churning wildly above you in response. A wild rain came next, each droplet sharp and cold and edged like the blade of a knife, bitter and biting as it beat against your skin. You grabbed another stone, one that tasted like shitty beer—Josie’s beer. You threw that rock, too, then another and another, throwing stones that smelled and tasted and felt like your shriek of laughter as he grinned and caught you against his chest, like torn flesh and a needle held by tender hands, like your face nuzzling fearlessly against Matt’s throat as he whispered comfort into your hair and held you close, like synced breathing and hearts and dances between binary stars as you both fell into sleep, fell into safety, fell into one another, phantom sensations that only made the fierce ache in you grow stronger because with every stone you snatched up it became clear that… 

You’d been loved. 

Not your identity.

Not the image you showed to the world. 

Not the walls you’d put up in front of him before he’d found some way past them. 

You. 

And he’d loved you with every part of him. 

You weren’t sure when you started crying, a violent, vicious stream of tears that was just as much a product of rage as grief. Here was someone who’d loved you fully, loved you despite every asterisk and bit of baggage and sharpened edge that came with being a broken hound, with being a former experiment still on the run. But you barely noticed your tears, spitting up at the unforgiving clouds and the howling wind, because you could howl, too, just as violent, just as much a threat as any storm in this place. “I want my fucking life back! I want him back!” 

You hadn’t wanted it before, or maybe you had and you’d just been too afraid to ask for it. But now? Oh, oh, now you were furious, furious and hurting and screaming, because you’d denied yourself connection all these years only to find it in the last place you’d expected. That was what this had been—home, family, love. That had to be why you’d stayed in New York, why you’d risked everything for these people, for Matt. You weren’t an idiot. You’d have run the numbers and the math, made your calculations.

You couldn’t bear to lose this. Not… not again. 

You threw stone after stone, hunting frantically as your fingers bled dry, desperate fury into the air, reddened drops disappearing before they ever hit the ground. The trickle of water in the center of the riverbed had churned itself into a frenzy, but you ignored it. There had to be something here that would trigger a memory, something that would let you remember being loved again, something big enough, important enough, so you grabbed and you grabbed and grabbed and grabbed and grabbed until at last, you found a stone the size of your fist. You snatched it up with a ragged sob, cradling it greedily against your chest as if doing so might let you carry it out of here, because you wanted it, you wanted him, wanted to remember more than anything in the world. 

“Let me have it!” you snarled, snapping your teeth at the howling winds of the storm as if you might catch this place between your jaws and tear it open until you at last found what belonged to you. “Give it back!” 

And with a blink—

He tore one of his bloodied gloves off, his hand shaking as he reached out to you.

You stilled the moment his fingertips brushed tenderly against your cheek, so very gentle, affection layered over blood and earth and hurt. And god, your skin was so terribly dry and cold, the beat of your heart uneven as it struggled to pump blood through your body, but he could feel you react to him, the barest parting of your lips as you dragged in a startled breath. He didn’t want to startle you further or risk you fighting him, so he let his voice drop into a whisper, soft as the brush of a feather.

“It’s me. I’m here.”

‘I heard you,’ he tried to say. ‘I heard you. I’m here.’

And your weakened heart… skipped.

He wasn’t sure if he reached for you or if you reached for him. All he knew was it was the sign he’d been looking for. In a heartbeat, he scooped you up off the floor, stealing you back from that dry, filthy cement and crusted blood that had tried to take you from him. He cradled your cold body against his chest, then, held you there where it was warm and where you were safe. You made the softest little noise, the sound choked and dry, but there was no disguising the heartbreaking relief in it. He pulled you in further, pulled you up until you were curled up in his lap, not an ounce of air left between your bodies, your head laying against his shoulder.

He would never let you touch the floor of this place again.

“D…” you mumbled, not one hint of fear in you despite what he’d just done, the blood on his hands and the burning heat of violence that still lingered in his bones. You wearily slid your head over, inch by inch, until you’d buried your face against the sweat-slick line of his throat, nuzzling in against him with a hoarse sigh that only made him hold you tighter. You inhaled slowly then, heedless of the blood and dirt and sweat that coated his skin, your fingers coming up to hook weakly in the collar of his shirt. “You came.”

And you… smiled.

He buried his face against your hair and let out a shaky breath. As he did, he dug down past blood and dust and dirt, dug and dug until he found the sweet, familiar scent of you, a scent he never wanted to leave him again.

The stone fell from your limp hands, a ringing in your ears you could barely hear beneath the sound of the water nearby, frothing and wild. 

The increased sensory feedback had been bizarre, and there was… there was no reason he should have been covered in so much blood, his body burning as if he’d been fighting before coming to you. But…  

“Hey, you in there?” Foggy called. 

“D.” The letter felt strange, and yet… natural, as you cradled it on your tongue. “D?”

And you knew what came after that letter, shaping the word again in your mind. 

You knew. 

You… remembered. 

“Always,” he’d said. 

“Always,” you whispered, casting your eyes up the riverbed towards another large stone. “Always, D.”

He didn’t know what you were doing or why you’d climbed inside the thread. 

“Always, D.”

All he knew was that it hurt. 

“You’re stuck with me, unfortunately for you.”

He’d thought catching your scent, hearing your laugh, being forced to take back the key he’d given to you had been the worst of it. But no. It was far, far worse having to relive these memories of your time with him over and over and over without pause, his senses filled with you: with your touch, with your scent, with the taste of you on the air. He heard you whisper, laugh, and sigh; felt the brush of your fingers in his hair and your body shaking with laughter when he snatched you up during a game of Devil Hunt and the safety of you as you’d held him so tenderly after his fight with Foggy. All of it was a reminder of what he’d lost, what he’d never get back. 

“Don’t you give up on me, Matt. Ok?”

He was in agony. There was no blocking you out like this, no escaping your memory no matter how much he tried to push back or retreat, until he wound up trapped and spiraling in his kitchen. 

“Kiss me when you come back.”

On and on it went, memories snapping at his heels until all he had left to hide behind was rage. He swept his arm across the counter, glass shattering as he screamed himself hoarse. Eventually he found himself backed up against the wall, sinking down as he hitched out something like an agonized groan, his hands over his ears, his eyes shut tight. “Don’t do this to me, sweetheart, please—”

“Adoringly yours, because I do adore you, you ridiculous man...”

“Leave me alone,” he whispered. “Just leave me alone.”

“...Remember that. if nothing else.” 

In hindsight, it was a really bad idea to give back your key.

“Matt!” you shouted, pounding frantically on his front door. “Matt, let me in! It’s me, I swear, I can-I can—”

Silence. 

And you weren’t willing to wait any longer. This wasn’t something you could explain through the door, out here in the hall where the neighbors could hear. You needed to get inside. You knew he was in there somewhere. 

Red threads never lied.  

You wiped the blood away from your nose and took off for the stairs. It was only one flight up to the roof, and sometimes he left the rooftop door unlocked. Even if it wasn’t unlocked, you’d use the key under the mat. You didn’t remember everything. But you remembered that. And if the key wasn’t there? You’d break that fucking door down.

He sat unmoving in his meditation pose on the floor, the sound of your attempts to get into the apartment distant and far away. Meditation had been the only thing left he could think of that would allow him to escape the pain and the memories of you that had flooded his thoughts. Like this, with his mind and his focus withdrawn until it lay deep within himself, he’d hoped he’d be far enough away from the world that the ghost of you couldn’t reach. 

Yet even deep in meditation, his instincts were set off by the crack! of his rooftop door slamming open.

He was on his feet in a heartbeat, his heart racing as he bared his teeth, his body prepared to face whatever threat had just broken in. The sensations of you, at the very least, had quieted during his meditation, which should have left him enough space for some small margin of peace as he threw himself into a fight. But that peace was nowhere to be found, because you were here again. 

He recoiled from that thought the second it crossed his mind. This wasn’t you, that much had become painfully clear. You’d passed away somewhere far beyond his reach, away from the home, the life you’d lived here. The woman that stood on his landing now was nothing but a ghost, a fading memory and a terrible reminder of what he’d had and lost, what he’d earned by daring to reach for something good. There was no undoing it, no washing away the blood on his hands. If anything, how he felt for you had doomed any hopes of you staying long enough for him to reform that connection with you. He knew how you operated—hell, you’d tried to run on that hot summer night so many months ago after seeing just how much he’d cared, even if you’d ultimately changed your mind. At the time, he’d thought it was Destiny, the hand of God ensuring you remained in the Kitchen where Matt could keep you safe from the Man in the White Coat, here in this place where you both might… might shape something good out of all the broken pieces you’d both been left with. He knew better, now. Even the hand of God couldn’t break the curse Matt placed on those he loved. You would leave, leave like all the others, and he deserved it. 

The only question that remained was why you seemed so, so fucking determined to make him suffer. 

“Matt.” Your voice cracked as you stumbled down the stairs. “Matt, I—”

“Why can’t you just leave me alone, sweetheart?” he grit out, reaching up to fist his hands tightly in his hair. He’d never known you to be unnecessarily cruel, but there was no other explanation. “God, I-I can’t—you can’t keep doing this to me.”

“Matt, just let me—”

“Do you even care how much you’re hurting me?” He hitched out a broken laugh, something bitter and tormented, the sound absent all humor as you made it down the stairs. “All those months, all I wanted was for you to come back. I begged. I prayed to God, over and over again, that he would bring you back to me. And now that you’re gone, you just won’t leave. I can’t get away from you no matter what I do. Do you know what that’s like? To lose someone you love only for their ghost to haunt you every time you turn around?”

A soft intake of breath. 

There it was. Now that he’d said it, you’d leave. There would be nothing more frightening to the You he’d first known than a word like love. 

“I just…” His breath hitched again, something thick building in his throat. It was just another sign of his weakness, the same weakness that had gotten you killed. 

‘I warned you, kid,’ came Stick’s voice, so smug that Matt bared his teeth. ‘I fuckin’ warned you the night I opened up her eye. But you didn’t listen.’

He started to pace wildly, ignoring your voice as he hunted for some opening through which he could escape, flee from Stick’s voice hiding in the corners of his thoughts, from your ghost. With every step his movements grew more frantic, more furious as his rage built like a rising wave: rage at himself, at God, at the monster who’d taken your memories and the possibility of a life for you here with Matt, and at you, too, because you just didn’t get it. “I just want to grieve, and God can’t even give me that much, can he? Is that what this is? Punishment? Revenge? Congratulations. Job well done. You can go.” 

You tilted your head as you watched him pace, the same cock of your head you got when considering your potential routes forward. As far as he was concerned, the only route he’d give was a route out the door.  

“I don’t know why you came back, and at this point, I don’t fucking care,” he told you hotly, nothing but burning smoke and thick venom in each word. “We don’t have a red thread anymore. There’s nothing to keep you here. Leave. Now. I’m not asking.”

Your soft response was a single letter, one that struck directly at the open wound inside his chest. 

“...D.” 

He snatched up an empty beer bottle from the kitchen counter in a sudden rage, turned, and hurled it past you. 

You didn’t so much as flinch as the bottle came within inches of your head. Nor did you react to the distant shattering of glass, the sound of it barely audible over his anguished roar. 

“Leave me alone!”  

And then he froze in sudden horror at what he’d done, his heartbeat almost drowning out the soft sound of your steps. All he’d wanted to do was scare you away, frighten you away so he could break where you couldn’t see, because it had hurt, it had hurt to hear you call him—

Wait. 

You’d… you’d called him…

“My Devil Man, my Saint Matthew,” you whispered, the touch of your hands cool and endlessly gentle as you cupped his face. His skin was wet, damp beneath your thumbs as you swiped them across his cheeks, when had he started crying? You brought his head down until you could lay your forehead against his, the taste of salt hanging in the air. Your voice grew achingly tender, so longed for that he swayed helplessly on his feet, wanting nothing more than to be held like you’d held him so often before when he was hurting. “I’m so sorry, D. I’m so sorry I left you alone, sweetheart.” 

He closed his eyes tight, his breath growing shaky. You couldn’t know that he was two steps away from crumbling in your arms, fractures widening with every breath. He had no energy left to fight your touch, your misplaced mercy, but giving into the lie was another thing entirely. He couldn’t bear to hope again, not when it would crush him if he were wrong. “Foggy told you to… he told you to call me that, didn’t he? To see if you’d remember. But I can’t—you’re going to leave me, you’ll—” “Do you remember what I said before I left? Because I do.” You swiped your thumb gently against his cheek, your uneven breathing skipping and falling into rhythm with his as his hands shakily rose. They hovered hesitantly a few inches away from your face, terrified that you might vanish beneath his hands like a ghost. “I don’t leave my box behind, and I won’t leave you behind, either. I told you that you were stuck with me after Nobu. I meant it. It’s really me. I know you’re tired and hurting, sweetheart, but listen to my heart. What does it say? Truth or lie?”

…Steady. 

Truth.

Could it really be you?  

He held his breath as he dared at last to touch your cheek, stirring the fine hairs as he stroked his way along the familiar shape of your face, one he’d traced so often in his dreams. Your skin was damp with tears just like his, another sliding down to bump against his thumb as your lips quirked up into a brilliant smile. And the moment his trembling fingers passed your lips, you kissed the tip of each with a warm fondness, a mirror of that night you’d held his broken, torn body and he’d kissed your fingers and palm. 

“How much do you… do you remember?” There was a ringing in his ears as the world beneath him seemed to roll beneath him. “Everything?” “Not everything. Some pieces are still missing, with Foggy and Karen and my job, but I-I remember enough. I remember you, and what I had with you.” Your voice grew fierce and fervent then as you drew in a sharp breath, preparing yourself. “I remember you, D. And I remember that I love you. I love you, Matt Murdock, all of you, so, so much. And I will never leave you alone again.” You loved him. 

You loved him. 

The weight of it—being forced to let you leave the city, the ensuing months alone, the agony of the past few weeks thinking he’d lost you entirely, and now this, this, knowing you loved him like he loved you—hit him all at once, and with a sudden groan he started to drop. You caught him in your arms, the two of you sinking to your knees as you held him tight and he wound desperately around you in return. Only then did he start to fall apart in your arms, shaking in your hold, his grief, his hurt, his relief spilling out in choked gasps where you’d tucked his head down against your neck. He fisted his hands in your shirt as you both rocked, and a ragged moan tore free from him, spilling against your skin when you lifted your hands to trail your fingers lovingly through his hair. You knew, you remembered just how to hold him when he was hurting, a balm across every last wound. His shivering, touch-starved body remembered your touch, too, drowning beneath the sudden surge of good, warm, safe, soft after months of nothing but pain, so much so he couldn’t help but gasp out your name. 

“I’ve got you now, D,” you whispered, burying your face against his shoulder until he could feel the heat of your tears against his shirt, too. “I’m here, now. You’re not alone. I’ve got you, Matt.” 

“I thought you were gone.” There was no way for him to truly sync his breathing with yours, not with the way you were both crying, but still his body tried on instinct, tried and failed over and over again. He closed his eyes tighter, burying his face deeper against your throat as he pulled you in even closer, until there wasn’t an inch of space between your body and his, where he could feel every beat of your heart against his skin, as if to make up for the way he’d almost… almost chased you away. “I thought you’d left me and I was alone. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t try harder, and that I didn’t-I didn’t go with you, but I couldn’t—I’m so, so—” 

“Hey, hey, it’s ok.” You kissed shakily at his hair, his shoulder, and whatever other parts of him you could reach, your breath, your tears, your absolution washing over him like rain. “It’s not your fault, D. It’s not your fault sweetheart. None of this was your fault.” 

“But—” “Hey. Listen to me, before you get any further down in that hole.” You lifted his head from your shoulder, cupping his tear-stained face in your hands again. For a moment you both simply breathed with one another, your forehead to his, soaking in the contact, the affection that you’d both dearly missed and needed. “What happened to me outside New York, my memory loss… all of that is not your fault. It never was, D. There are-there are a lot of things we’ll have to deal with in the future, things I need to tell you. Consequences of what we’ve done, and—but this isn’t one of them. Never this. You’re what helped bring me back.” “How? I didn’t…” He let out a breathless, watery little laugh. “I didn’t do anything but try to chase you away.” “Some part of me couldn’t help but be drawn to you. I remembered, deep down, I think.” You gave an amused little huff. “And once Foggy showed me how to get into our thread, all your memories are what brought me back, helped me remember, because I could feel it, how you loved me. That was the key. Speaking of which…” You leaned in to nuzzle up against his cheek, your voice lowering to a whisper. “I think I made you a promise, you ridiculous man. And it’s one I intend to keep.” 

And with one small tip of your head, and a single slow breath… 

“Kiss me when you come back.” 

…your lips brushed against his for the very first time, tender and achingly soft, and so full of love that it would have stolen his breath away if he’d had any left at all. 

It wasn’t the first kiss he’d envisioned months ago just before you left, something triumphant and wild. Nor was it anything like the first kisses he’d imagined before that, the first kiss he’d thought this journey with you might lead to. And God only knew he’d considered kissing you for the first time more than was healthy.

Your first kiss with him was, instead, shaky and gentle, tasting of salt and tears and the fading shades of grief retreating like streamers of night before a welcome sunrise. Slowly, and then more surely, his lips began to move against yours, finally allowing himself to truly taste you for the first time, his eyes slowly falling closed as your fingers ran fondly through his hair, you, it was really you, you remembered. With a quiet moan, he breathed you in deep, calling your grace, your love deep into him until it settled there against his heart, knowing that, no matter what else might come, he would never lose it again, one of his hands rising to tenderly wind around your throat, his other hand finding yours so he could lace his battered fingers tightly with yours.

It wasn’t the first kiss he’d expected, but it felt perfect all the same. 

Because all that was left was him… 

And you. 

[hellspawnmotel]

terranigma, a cool game

[farfaras]

I think I got an ex but I forgot him

Part 1.

Part 2. (You’re here!)

Part 3.

-

They came up with ground rules, boundaries were important and whatnot. However, they didn’t plan on doing this for long, so they also had to come up with a believable storyline for the future course of the relationship.

This is what they have so far:

Only Dustin knew, it would stay that way. For now.

Hugs and holding hands was okay.

Pet names that were allowed included: babe, baby, honey… and that’s about it.

This will last only one or two months to really sell it.

No kisses required.

As for the storyline. That was a little bit harder to come up with. Obviously the timeline was a no brainer. They got together two weeks after Jonathan and Nancy broke up. Jonathan tried to protest. “That makes me look bad.” “Yeah well, you dating me overall makes you look bad.” “Makes you look weird, then.” “Whatever.” But they didn’t have too many options, it was that or the literal last week. And call them paranoid, but Steve thinks Dustin would see through that.

When that was out of the way, they planned the way their (fake) relationship would go wrong. “Maybe I realized I was a rebound.” “Do you want Dustin to hate me?”

At the end, what they agreed on wasn’t even that far off. They came up with phases they had to complete. Hopefully they would be able to showcase that Jonathan started dating Steve because he was supposedly just lonely and needed someone, he didn’t realize what he was doing and didn’t mean to hurt Steve. They would say they talked it out and decided to stay friends because that would be for the best. No hard feelings.

Phase one. Jonathan being an attentive and affectionate boyfriend. Steve gushing about it to Dustin.

Phase two. Jonathan spends less time with Steve. Steve starts saying he misses him now and again.

Phase three. Jonathan acts distant. Steve is freaking out.

Phase four and final. Jonathan realizes his mistake and ends things.

It was almost foolproof! And they only had to really fake in front of one person, so it shouldn’t be that hard. Steve didn’t want Jonathan to come out just because Steve needed a favor. This seemed like the best way to do it.

-

They were hanging out in Jonathan’s room, everything was set and all they needed to do now was act like a couple in front of Dustin and stand a little closer when they were in bigger groups if Dustin was there.

Easy.

But for another day. All they wanted to do right now was just chill.

Steve heard someone knocking on the front door. It was incessant and loud. They wanted to have a chill night but whoever was there, was starting to get annoying.

“Aren’t you gonna…?” Steve pointed to the direction the sound was coming from. “Are you gonna get the door? Are you expecting someone?”

“Nah, ‘s probably a salesman or something. They’re annoying but they’ll be gone soon.” Jonathan muttered, and he really didn’t seem at all bothered by the persisting knocking.

They heard Will come out of his room. “Seriously!” Teenage irritation and disdain. Classic. Looks like he’s gonna get the door.

As soon as the door opened, they heard a familiar voice. What was Dustin doing here?! Was he here to ask Jonathan about Steve? If that’s the case thank god Steve got to Jonathan before Dustin. This kid is something else.

“Is Jonathan here?”

“Wha- he’s in his room. Why?”

“I need to talk to him for a bit. Alone.”

“Why would you want to do that?”

“Just- I’ll go to your room later.”

Oh Dustin really is here to talk to Jonathan.

Steve jumped in the bed and turned to Jonathan. “Quick. Cuddle me.”

Confusion was all over Jon’s face. “Huh?”

“Dustin is coming, just do it!” He whispered.

“Ugh. Harrington.” Complained Jon.

“That’s babe to you. And you said hugs were fine. Cuddles are just long hugs, come on.” Steve laid in the bed next to Jonathan.

Jonathan turned him so he could spoon him. Steve has never been the little spoon before, but it was kinda nice. They were settling when they heard a knock on the door. “Who is it?” Asked Jon.

“Dustin, can I come in?”

“Yeah, sure.”

When he opened the door his eyes looked like saucers. “Oh my god, it’s true.”

Steve just raised an eyebrow at his antics. He closed the door and sat down in the chair by the desk. “You guys are actually dating.” Dustin whispered-yelled.

“What? You didn’t believe me?”

“I’m a scientist! I need proof to believe stuff!”

Steve and Jonathan got up and sat down by the edge of the bed. They were pressed together, thighs and shoulders touching. Jonathan took his hand and laced their fingers together. “You don’t have a problem with it, do you?” Jonathan asked. He’s a better actor than he thought, he looks protective. Although this is another coming out for him, Steve thinks he’s handling it really well.

“No, no! I already told Steve I don’t care. I just kinda had to confirm it because… well I kinda want to talk about something.” Suddenly Dustin looked wary, hesitant to continue.

“Okay?” This was unexpected. Both Dustin being here and the imminent serious conversation he wanted to have based on his expression alone.

The teen took a deep breath. “First of all I wanted to ask you guys something.” He looked at them expectantly, as if asking for permission to continue. Which was so bizarre because this kid says everything and anything that goes through his mind. Steve nodded. “Are you planning on, you know, telling our friends? The party?” Why would he want to know that?

“Um.” Steve glanced at his fake boyfriend. “No, not really. At least not for a while” Jonathan just nodded at what he said.

“I think you should do it.”

“Huh?” Jonathan paled. Steve understood, that was a big thing. And sure Dustin didn’t seem to be taking it lightly but he still doesn’t understand what something like that can feel like.

“Dustin, I don’t think you get to have an opinion on that.” Steve tried to sound firm.

“No, I know just. I think it might be a good thing. Listen, maybe you’re aware of this or maybe you aren’t.” Dustin leaned in as if he was gonna share a secret. “Someone in our party is having a hard time with their… sexuality. At least I think so. I think seeing a happy gay couple could be good for them. To show that there’s hope or some shit.” He was almost eloquent, if it wasn’t for that slip at the end.

The supposed couple looked at each other, processing what the younger boy just said to them. Steve doesn’t know if Jonathan is out to Will, or vice versa. Steve is not dumb, he sees the way Will looks at Mike sometimes. It was the same way his brother looked at Nancy. It had to be hard, being so young and feeling so alone. Will had to be the person Dustin was talking about, right? The only other gay friend Steve knows they have is Robin, and Dustin has no idea she’s gay if we take into account that he wanted to set her up with Steve not long ago.

“We’ll think about it.” Steve heard Jon say. He was surprised, it looked like Jon was considering it.

“I can assure you our friends will be okay with it. And seeing that might encourage this person to come out! I really think they need the support and I wanna give it to them but I don’t know how.” Gosh. He looked so pained about not being able to comfort Will. Dustin is a really good friend.

“As Jon said, we’ll think about it.”

“O-okay. Thanks.” Dustin got up and exited the room, presumably to go to Will’s.

When they were sure he was in another room they separated and inhaled deeply.

“What do you think?” Steve asked.

“I hadn’t… thought about that.” His hands were in his lap and he looked at the door. “I’m gonna assume you know who he was talking about.”

“I’ve… had my suspicions.” Steve ventured. “Will has been looking sad lately.”

“Yeah. Maybe Dustin’s right. Could be a good thing.” He still looked a bit nervous about the whole idea.

“We don’t have to though.”

“I think we should.”

“Really?” Steve didn’t want to pressure Jon, but he also thought it would be good for Will. That kid needs support but he needs to feel comfortable enough to ask for it. No one knows how he would react if they just dumped on him the information that he’s not as subtle as he thinks.

“Yeah. How hard can it be? Same plan just, more people are gonna know.” Jon smiled. “And Will might feel better. I’d do anything for him.” Will was lucky to have such a caring brother.

Steve grinned mischievously. “We might have to revisit the kissing rule, though.”

Jonathan rolled his eyes and smacked him with his pillow.

———

This is a bit shorter than the last one, sorry about that.

I think I might post a chapter once a week.

Also, the tag list is getting really long! I don’t know if I’ll be adding more to the list.

Thanks for reading. Ps. Eddie might finally be in the next chapter. Watch out.

[smilesrobotlover]

First| <-previous next-> (coming soon)

AO3

Chapter 7- The Meeting

The letter from Link has been haunting Zelda since she’s read it. She had planned to meet with the resistance in two days, and even moved her schedule around for it, but Link was demanding to meet with them now. It seemed that they would be here tonight, but Zelda was struggling to make time to meet them.

During the many meetings, it was all she could think about. How she was going to get to Telma’s bar, how she was going to disguise herself as Sheik, what she was going to say to Edmund and Amber. She was probably going to miss supper for this, but it was fine, this was more important than supper. She just wished that it hadn’t happened so last minute.

Goddesses, why couldn’t they wait two more days?

She didn’t pay attention to any of the meetings, anxious to get them done and to leave to get to the next one. She’d nearly fallen asleep countless times, and Edmund would discreetly wake her back up so she wouldn’t humiliate herself—which she was grateful for. She really wasn’t fit for any of this queen business at the moment, but there was so much to do, such little time.

As soon as the current meeting ended, Zelda found herself sitting in her chair, staring blankly at the wall instead of rushing to get to lunch. This was her only break, and she didn’t have the energy to move. Edmund didn’t move either, and he spoke to the nobles and representatives for Zelda as she stared. Soon the room was empty, and the two were left alone.

“Zelda,” Edmund started softly.

“It’s fine, Edmund. I just need a moment.”

Edmund stared at her. “You weren’t at breakfast.”

“No I was not.”

“You’ve missed breakfast these past few days.”

“I have.”

“And you’re about to miss lunch.”

“That’s fine.”

“And you look like death.”

Zelda gave Edmund an annoyed look and he leaned forward. “Zelda, you’re killing yourself. Why don’t you tell me everything that’s happening? Why don’t you let me help?”

Zelda continued to stare silently, not in the mood to argue.

“Look, I’m worried about you. I do… care about you. We were good friends as kids, and those memories I can’t forget. I want you to be taken care of, is that so wrong?”

Zelda stayed silent.

“You’re exhausted and you’re hungry,” Edmund continued when she said nothing, “I don’t want to think about how dehydrated you are. Just, come to lunch, take a break, and take care of yourself.”

“I can’t take a break whenever I want, I have too much to do—“

“Oh my Labryn, Zelda, the nobles can wait! They can wait for you! You need to take care of yourself first!”

Zelda sighed and stood up. “I’m not in the mood for this right now, Edmund.”

“When will you be in the mood? When you’re on your deathbed? I’m not wanting to wait until then!”

The queen didn’t respond and went to walk away. It was childish to not say anything, but she was too tired to argue. Too tired to think of something to say. She was just… so tired…

She reached the door and leaned against the wall, holding her aching head. She suddenly felt lightheaded and sick to her stomach. She heard footsteps approach her from behind and she gave Edmund a glare.

“Zelda?”

She huffed and reached for the door, but black dots appeared in her vision, and she felt herself begin to stagger.

“Zelda!”

Her stomach did somersaults as she began to fall, and soon she was surrounded by darkness.

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

The sun was beginning to set as Rusl and Link arrived at castle town. They moved quickly through the field, and Link could tell Epona was enjoying the free movement. She had become just as stir-crazy as he did after his adventure, so when she had a chance to move around outside of Ordon, she clearly enjoyed herself. When they arrived, they quickly got off their horses and headed into the town, trying not to take up too much space with their large animals. Normally, Link would let Epona roam free in the field while he did his errands in town, but after what he’s found out, he decided against it. It took a while to get to the bar; surprisingly the town was busy despite the day coming to an end, and people were always blocking their way, causing the horses to grow upset with the small space. Rusl and Link finally were able to tie their horses to a post near Telma’s bar where less people were at, and they hopped down the stairs and entered it. The bar was relatively empty, save for a few patrons who were quietly drinking by themselves. As usual, the place was dark and was only lit up by torches and candles scattered throughout. In the back, Telma and Auru were chatting at the table they all normally sat at, and Telma’s face lit up when she saw the two men, quickly burying them both in a hug when they got close.

“Link! Rusl! It’s so good to see you two!” She exclaimed, giving their shoulders a firm pat when she pulled away. Link smiled politely and let her lead the two men to the back table, where Auru was smiling.

“I figured you’d both be here tonight,” Auru said, ruffling Rusl’s hair as he sat down. “So what’s going on?”

“I’ll explain everything after Ashei and Shad get here,” Rusl said simply, fixing his ruffled hair.

“Hm, we sure they’ll be here tonight? This was pretty last minute.” Auru asked, leaning forward to look at both Rusl and Link.

“I know, I know it’s inconvenient but… it’s important,” Rusl frowned as Telma set down a mug of ginger ale in front of him, which he began to pick at mindlessly. “Me and Link found what’s been causing these disappearances, there’s no need to waste time anymore.”

Auru raised his eyebrows and he nodded knowingly. “Well then, that is quite important.”

Link nodded, staring at the milk in front of him—neither him nor his father bothered to drink anything. It was silent for a moment until Rusl awkwardly cleared his throat, catching Link and Auru’s attention.

“Well, we’re lucky you’re here, we won’t have to wait for you. You’re a lot harder to get a hold of than the others,” Rusl stated with a smile, and Auru gave a hearty laugh.

“Oh, my boy, I haven’t left castle town in weeks.”

“Did Sheik send you a letter?”

“He did. He told me to ask around castle town to gather information. It’s the only thing I’m capable of doing now,” Auru leaned back in his chair and stretched slowly, a pained expression on his face. “I’m getting too old for all this action.”

Rusl frowned and went back to staring at his drink. Link studied his father’s face, but it remained blank. When he really wanted to be, he was a master at hiding his emotions. There was a moment of silence again, being interrupted by Telma coming by to bring food for the two men, and Link couldn’t help but cheer softly.

“Oh goddesses, thank you Telma,” he said, already digging in, “I’m starvin’.”

Telma laughed and patted his shoulder. “I figured you’d both be hungry from the journey!”

“Aw, you didn’t have to do that, Telma,” Rusl chuckled slightly, and Telma lightly punched his shoulder.

“Oh, you hush, it’s the least I can do for my friends! Now eat up while we wait for the lovebirds to arrive!”

Link stared at Telma as she walked away, and he turned to look at Auru. “Are Ashei and Shad—“

“Engaged.”

Link’s mouth dropped. “Engaged? When did this happen?”

“A couple of weeks ago.”

Rusl and Link both glanced at each other in shock. Link knew that there was something going on between them, but after ten years, he figured that it was nothing.

“How did you know about this?” Link asked.

“They announced it when they stopped by,” Auru explained, gesturing with his hands. “I hang around here most of the time so me and Telma got to hear about it.”

“It’s about time,” Rusl scoffed, a teasing smile on his lips. “Those two were drivin’ me crazy!”

“No kidding! It’s a little late though. I doubt Ashei would be able to have kids at her age.”

Rusl’s face scrunched up. “What are you talkin’ about? She’s barely thirty! And you’re a fool if you think that Ashei and Shad would even want kids.”

“Oh come now, they’re good with kids!”

Rusl gave Link a look and he snorted. They both knew that they were terrible with kids. They could keep them alive, but they couldn’t keep them from crying. Auru rolled his eyes and waved his hand away.

“I just think it’s a waste to get married and then not have kids.”

“That’s an old way of thinking, Auru,” Rusl said, finally taking a sip of his ginger ale. “Some people don’t need to have kids. It ain’t our business what they want to do anyways.”

Auru scoffed slightly, but he didn’t continue. Link continued to eat in silence, not realizing how sloppy he was being. He was ravenous. He felt Auru watching him and he looked up.

“What?”

“You’re eating like a growing teenage boy. When was the last time you ate?” Auru teased slightly, and Link scratched the back of his head.

“It’s… actually been less than two days,” he muttered, giving Rusl a look. Neither of them ate dinner before searching the woods. They spent the next day sleeping and then the whole day traveling. Auru’s eyes widened when Rusl and Link remained silent, both having guilty looks on their faces.

“Neither of you have eaten in two days?” He asked, shocked.

“Maybe a bit longer than that–” Link muttered, and Rusl jabbed at him lightly.

“It’s fine—“ Rusl quickly said, but Auru shook his head.

“Eat that food Telma gave you, boy!” He commanded in a stern tone. Rusl quickly turned to the food and started eating it, looking like a guilty kid. Link snorted slightly and his pa glared him down. Auru patted his back with a satisfied look and leaned back.

“Must’ve been a crazy few days. What did Sheik have you do?”

“He wanted us to investigate a missing woman and Goron from Kakariko,” Link answered since Rusl’s mouth was full of bread.

“Ah, so that’s how you found it.”

Link glanced at Rusl who went back to staring blankly at the food. Auru picked up on the mood change and frowned.

“What is it?”

“We’ll explain when Shad and Ashei get here,” Rusl said quietly. Auru looked between the two and frowned.

“Alright,” he said, a worried look on his face as he stared at Rusl. It grew silent at the table again and the old man glanced up, his face lighting up. “Speaking of…”

Link turned around and saw Ashei and Shad walking to the group. Ashei looked annoyed while Shad smiled at the group. Rusl turned as well and shot up from his seat, marching towards the two.

“Hey! You two jerks!” He shouted, pulling them both into a hug. “You can’t just get engaged and not tell me!”

“Well next time, be here when we visit!” Shad teased, hugging him back. Ashei smiled slightly and gave Link a nod as he walked up to the two.

“When’s the wedding?” Rusl asked, his hands on the two’s arms.

“Don’t know yet, we’re just playing it by ear,” Shad answered, looking at Ashei who nodded.

“We’re in no rush,” she added.

“Well, you better have me as your best man, alright?” Rusl said with a smirk.

“My dear Rusl, I wouldn’t have it any other way!” Shad laughed. He glanced at Link and walked towards him. “And how are you doing, old boy?”

Link chuckled and gave him a side hug. “I’m doin’ fine. I’m happy for y’all!”

“Oh thank you,” Shad glanced at Ashei who was chatting with Rusl, a happy expression on his face. “I wouldn’t have imagined being with her, but here we are.”

“Love is a fickle thing, isn’t it?”

“Indeed it is.”

Rusl and Ashei walked up to the two. “Let’s sit down and talk, yeah?” Ashei started, “I want to know why you both were so intent on meeting today.”

“We can’t, not without Sheik,” Rusl sighed, sitting down. “He’s not here yet.”

“This has been eating me up inside, and you’re saying I have to wait longer?” Shad said lightheartedly.

Ashei pulled Shad down in the seat next to hers and gave him a look. “Sheik may be busy, this was pretty last minute, yeah?”

“So I’ve been told,” Rusl grumbled. Auru patted him on the shoulder with a chuckle, and the group started to lightly poke fun at Rusl. Telma came by with food and drinks for the couple that arrived, and she closed the curtains to give them privacy.

“Tell me when you start talking about what happened,” she said, “I still have work to do, but I’ll be sure to kick everyone out.”

“Sure thing Telma,” Link said with a nod, and the curtains were fully closed, leaving the group isolated from the drunkards that came to the bar.

“So… what did Sheik have you two do?” Link asked the couple, and they glanced at each other.

“Sheik told us to help investigate the disappearances with a captain named Hoz,” Ashei answered. “We really weren’t finding anything of importance though.”

“Ah, did you come here with him?”

“No, he was quite intent on continuing the investigations,” Shad jumped in, pushing his glasses up his nose. “That was the most focused soldier of Hyrule I’ve ever met.”

“It’s good, Hyrule needs more men like him,” Ashei said, staring at her drink.

“Though he was sort of a pain to work with,” Shad mumbled.

Ashei snorted. “He was. Everything needed to go his way otherwise he would implode.”

“... Does Hyrule still need more men like him?” Auru asked cheekily, and Ashei glared at him.

“Yes.”

Shad laughed slightly and sat up straight. “Yes yes, he was still good to work with. I’m glad that some soldiers are still trying to do their jobs.”

Ashei gave a knowing nod and took a sip of her drink as the others mumbled in agreement. The group started to chat about mundane things, how they were doing, how the families were doing, and what they had planned afterwards. Link was constantly looking over his shoulder, expecting Sheik to suddenly appear (which he did every time they met up), yet there was no sign of him. Rusl was getting more anxious as the evening went on, constantly fidgeting with his hands or pacing the small room, pretending to be observing the wall. Soon it became too late–the bar was fully empty as Telma closed it down and kicked out angry drunks, and the only area lit up was the back room where the resistance sat. Yet no sign of Sheik, and Auru finally let out a loud sigh.

“I don’t think Sheik is coming.”

“We just need to be patient,” Ashei said, “she’s a busy person.”

Auru frowned. “‘She?’ You think Sheik’s a woman?”

Ashei’s eyes widened for a moment, but she quickly recovered. “W-well, Sheik is just a mysterious person, that’s all. I uh… say she could be a woman… or… something.”

The group stared at Ashei who stared hard at her drink.

“And what makes you think they’re a woman?” Auru pressed, a teasing smile on his lips.

“What makes you think they’re a man?” Ashei snapped back, getting angry. Auru raised his hands defensively.

“I’m just teasing you. You just never get flustered like that!”

Ashei glared at him and started cursing under her breath in frustration. Shad cleared his throat, wrapping an arm around her.

“Well, it doesn’t matter if Sheik is a man or a woman, what matters is that they’re not here right now.” He glanced up at Rusl who was still pacing back and forth near a corner. “We should start without them.”

Ashei sighed and nodded, a defeated look on her face. Auru nodded as well and stood up to drag Rusl back to the table. Link stared worriedly at his pa as he sat down, his face drained of all blood as he stared blankly at the table.

“Goddesses, are you alright?” Shad asked, and Rusl waved his concern away.

“‘M fine,” he mumbled. The group didn’t seem convinced by that answer, but they didn’t say anything else.

“Well, Link, Rusl,” Auru started, “tell us what happened. What is taking these missing people?”

Link glanced at Rusl who was still staring at the table, and he stood up, deciding to lead the conversation.

“Do you guys remember the shadow beasts?”

The group all froze, staring at Link with wide eyes.

“Shadow beasts? You mean those horrible black creatures that plagued all of Hyrule during the Twilight invasion?” Shad asked, and Link nodded.

“Yes, I… me and my pa found one in the woods… two nights ago,” Link frowned for a moment, that night feeling ages ago. He continued, “I think it’s a shadow beast that’s gotten stronger for the past ten years. It’s what’s been taking these people.”

“Oh… Labryn…” Ashei muttered under her breath.

“How do you know it’s the cause of all these disappearances?” Auru asked.

“We–uh—” Link glanced at Rusl who was still unmoving. “We sorta… found out the hard way…”

“Oh no… did someone–?” Shad started, but Link quickly stopped him.

“No, no it’s ok. I was able to stop the abduction but… I think it’s pretty obvious that this… mutated shadow beast is what’s causing all the disappearances.”

“Ok,” Ashei breathed out, “so it’s one of those shadow beasts, a little mutated, but we know what it is now. We should go out looking for it, yeah?”

Link pursed his lips. “Yes, but… be warned. I fought so many of those things by myself back then–”

“Yes you did! You were marvelous with the way you slashed them with your sword!” Shad exclaimed, swinging his arm around as if he had a weapon. Link smiled but it quickly went away.

“Yeah, well… I fought this one, and it didn’t die no matter what I did, so… I think we should be careful. We can’t underestimate this thing.”

The group nodded.

“Alright, well, thank you for telling us Link,” Auru said. “No one in Castle Town described anything like that.”

“No kidding,” Ashei replied and Link nodded glumly. This wouldn’t have happened if he hadn’t let such a thing live, he couldn’t help but feel guilty over it.

“Well, it’s late, we can discuss plans tomorrow, but in the meantime, I think we should all get some rest,” Auru stared sternly at Rusl and Link, “you two especially. I can tell you need it.”

Link smiled slightly and Rusl got up quietly, leaving the room in an instant. The group stared in shock as he disappeared behind the curtain. Auru looked at Link and pointed at where Rusl left.

“Is he alright?”

“I… I don’t know…” Link looked down, debating on whether he should tell them the details of what happened, but he really didn’t want to, and he didn’t know if Rusl would want him to. “He’s probably just tired… the uh… the shadow beast was… aggressive to say the least. I’m gonna go talk to him real quick.”

He felt everyone’s eyes on him as he left, and he glanced at Telma who looked worried, but she forced a smile when she saw Link.

“Did you all start the conversation without me?”

“Oh— goddesses Telma I’m so sorry—“

Telma waved his apology away. “I’ll make the others tell me. Rusl went upstairs, sweet pea.”

Link nodded and slowly walked up the stairs, his entire body suddenly feeling heavy. He glanced around at the secret upstairs inn, trying to remember which one was normally reserved for him and Rusl. He poked his head in the first room, finding Rusl laying on one of the beds, his hands resting on his face. Rusl flinched when he sensed another person near him, but he quickly relaxed when it was Link.

“Spirits, Link,” he chuckled, lying back down. Link smiled and sat down on the other bed across from him.

“Pa… are you…?” He started, but he stopped when Rusl glanced at him. Rusl’s face didn’t hold any annoyance, but instead guilt. He sat up and sighed.

“I’m ok, Link. I’m… sorry for how I was acting down there… I just…” Rusl paused for a moment before sighing again, resting against the wall. Link tilted his head

“What?”

“Oh… it’s not your burden to bear.”

“Well… I kinda already know why you’re upset so… hiding it from me is a fruitless effort.”

Rusl grinned slightly. “I suppose so… I just…. Ever since that night I’ve been feeling so… terrified every waking moment—no—even when I’m trying to sleep I’m terrified, I just—“ he stopped himself and rubbed his face. “I don’t know.”

Link frowned. “I know the shadow beasts would turn people into other shadow beasts, maybe you’re still feeling the effects from that?”

Rusl shrugged, a disturbed look on his face.

“You… also were almost eaten,” Link chuckled darkly, “that would traumatize anyone.”

Rusl smirked slightly, but it quickly went away, so Link continued.

“I mean… I know I’ve nearly been eaten myself. So many times. By giant plants, and a giant eel, and wolfos trying to tear me to pieces, and spiders, and I guess smaller plants too, plus another giant spider, and possibly a lot of other things and—“

Rusl’s face had grown more concerned the longer Link rambled, and he quickly tried to recover.

“I-I mean, I turned out fine! Maybe? I mean maybe I haven’t turned out fine but—but it’s fine! I’ve kinda gotten used to it, everything trying to eat me. Heh, it makes me wonder if I taste good. I mean Midna will definitely say that I taste good but, you know—“

“Link, I don’t need to know this,” Rusl interrupted him, though he almost seemed amused. Link blushed slightly and scratched the back of his head.

“S-sorry, that kinda came out.”

Rusl chuckled slightly, which made Link feel a little better. He observed his father’s tired face and frowned.

“Pa… you should get some rest.”

Rusl raised an eyebrow. “Doting and worrying is supposed to be my job Link, not yours.”

“Well, who did I get it from?” Link rebutted, and Rusl laughed.

“Correction then: doting is a parent’s job.”

“But I am a parent.”

“Not my parent!”

Link snorted and Rusl joined him in his laughter. It felt good to laugh after these past few days. Link sniffed and sighed, staring at Rusl’s bed.

“You should get some rest though, Pa.”

“You should get some rest too, Link.”

Link pursed his lips and looked down, shifting uncomfortably.

“Not as much as you.”

Rusl raised an eyebrow. “How much sleep have you gotten in the past forty-eight hours?”

Link clamped his mouth shut. “I… um… like… four…. hours…?”

Rusl smirked and gestured for him to come over. Link sighed and trudged over to him, the lack of sleep catching up to him. He rested against Rusl’s side while he wrapped his arm around him, and Link finally relaxed. It always felt good to be held by one of his parents. Being an adult, it didn’t happen as often compared to when he was a kid. Rusl started playing with the tip of his ear and he lightly kissed his forehead.

“I’m proud of you, Link,” he said softly.

“For what?”

“For becoming the man you are today. You’re a good person, determined, and kind. And I’m proud of you for it.”

Link smiled slightly. “But you and ma raised me to be that way.”

“Oh, we were only trying to nudge you kids in the right direction. Ultimately, it was you who chose to become a good person. Give yourself more credit.”

Link sighed and drowsiness began to get the better of him.

“Thanks. I love you pa.”

Sleep began to take over him as he heard his pa say one last thing.

“I love you too, my son.”

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

Zelda awoke with a jolt. She was in her bed, her heavy dress was replaced with a lighter one, and her daughter was reading a book by her side. She rubbed her eyes and sat up, startling Amber.

“Mother! You’re awake!” She exclaimed, closing her book. “We were so worried!”

Zelda looked around the room, confused. How long has she been out?

“Father came to me and asked me to stay by your side! I hadn’t left once!” Amber continued. “I’ve just been reading this book about birds, I’m hoping to find one to match the birds Hylians used to ride, but so far none of them have been big enough…”

“Amber,” Zelda rubbed her eyes, still feeling exhausted. “Where’s your father?”

“He’s in meetings right now, he said he’ll come by to see if you’re awake!”

Zelda groaned and rubbed her face. What had been happening while she was out? She hated not being in control of everything.

“I hope you’re alright,” Amber added quietly, and Zelda glanced over at her. She had a worried look on her face, and she couldn’t help but smile.

“I’m fine, thank you for watching over me,” Zelda said with a smile, and Amber beamed at the praise.

“I’m so glad mother! Do you want me to fetch you some supper? It’s a little late but—“

“Wait, how long have I been asleep?”

“Oh! Um… a few hours.”

Zelda tried to hide her frustration, and she turned away as she groaned. She didn’t have time for this. She still needed to meet with the resistance! If she didn’t leave now…

Amber gasped as Zelda started to get out of bed, ignoring the vertigo that assaulted her.

“Um… mother? Father told me to make sure you stayed in bed a-and—“

“I’ll be fine, Amber,” Zelda grumbled, but she knew she wouldn’t be. It didn’t matter though, she needed to be somewhere.

“But… father said…” Amber’s voice trailed off, and Zelda heard another person enter the room.

“Zelda,” Edmund’s voice called out, and she sighed. Great.

“Father!” Amber hopped up and ran to him. “Mother’s awake! Do you want me to get a meal for her?”

“No, I already sent a maid to do that, my dear. You go get yourself to bed.”

Amber nodded and looked back at Zelda. “Goodnight mother.”

Zelda smiled slightly. “Goodnight Amber.”

She lingered for a moment, her mouth agape, but she finally turned away and left the room. Edmund and Zelda remained silent, both staring intensely at each other. Finally, Edmund let out a huff and started to walk forward.

“I’m glad you’re awake,” he said, “I brought you something.”

Zelda frowned. “What is it?”

Edmund sat down on the bed with her and handed her a little box. She carefully opened it to reveal a chocolate orange. She blinked several times, wondering if the lack of sleep had finally caught up to her and that she was hallucinating it. But the smell hit her nostrils, and she lightly traced the chocolatey edges.

“I remember you loved these things as a kid,” Edmund muttered, a nostalgic smile on his face. “I always hated them, but I did enjoy eating one slice with you whenever you had them.”

Zelda couldn’t help but smile as she grabbed a slice of the chocolate. She glanced at Edmund and her smile dropped slightly.

“How do you know I still love these?” She asked, and Edmund took in a quiet, deep breath.

“Do you?”

Zelda looked down and put one in her mouth. The chocolate instantly melted as it hit her tongue, the sweet flavor mixing with the tanginess of the orange rewarding her taste buds, and she couldn’t help but close her eyes in satisfaction. She hasn’t had one of these in years.

“It seems you still like it,” Edmund chuckled. Zelda opened her eyes and turned away, embarrassed.

“Yes,” she mumbled. Edmund hummed and leaned back, resting on his hands.

“I’m glad.”

Zelda turned to look at him, his mustache lifted up with his smile. “Why’d you bring this to me?” She asked.

“Oh, I figured you’d need an energy boost. Chocolate does wonders for that,” Edmund reached for a slice. “May I?”

Zelda nodded and offered one to him. He took a slice and bit into half of it. His face scrunched up in disgust and he covered his mouth. “Eugh, I still don’t like it.”

Zelda smiled and almost let out a giggle. “That’s quite a shame, they’re so delightful.”

Edmund grinned and stared at the uneaten slice. “I probably should’ve put the full thing in my mouth, now what will I do with this?”

Zelda stared at it for a moment, and before she could even think, she plucked it out of his hand.

“Can’t let it go to waste,” she said before putting the rest of the slice in her mouth. Edmund looked surprised but his expression softened into a pleasant smile. Zelda looked away, her face flushing slightly, and she picked at the remaining chocolates. “Thank you for this Edmund, that was very thoughtful of you.”

Edmund nodded. “Of course. I… I just want to help out.”

It grew silent between the two—any feeling of contentment was gone in an instant. Edmund picked up on Zelda’s discomfort and he let out a sigh.

“Why won’t you accept my help?”

Zelda glanced up at him. Where an accusatory and bitter tone normally was, this time, there was just curiosity. He was trying, it was only fair that Zelda tried as well.

But could she trust him?

It was kind of him to try to help her, but was he trying to manipulate her into trusting him? She remembered her father always showering her mother with gifts whenever he did something to upset her. It was always a way to regain her trust. Was Edmund trying to do the same?

“Listen, becoming the king of Hyrule hasn’t been an easy transition for me,” Edmund started, his back turned to Zelda, “Labrynna gives its power to the king, but here in Hyrule, all of the power goes to the queen.” He let out a breath while Zelda remained silent. He’s never told her this before. “I admit I’ve felt…. Emasculated as a result, and I’ve been acting childish because of it. For that I am sorry.” He glanced back at Zelda, an almost worried expression on his face, but Zelda stayed quiet. “But, I feel useless. I feel like I’m being used for my connection to my family, and that I’m nothing more than an object to your people and… I suppose that’s why I’ve been… frustrated about you keeping things to yourself. But… looking at you now, I’ve grown more worried than upset. You’ve overworked yourself so much to the point that you collapsed. That’s not a good thing. I suppose I… I just want to know why you’re so intent on doing everything yourself, when I’m here to… help you.”

Zelda stared at him for a moment, his emerald green eyes never leaving hers. For once, Zelda couldn’t find her words. She knew she should try to communicate with him—he was being so open with her, but why? Was he trying to worm his way into her life? Or was he being genuine? He’s never taken the time to sit down and talk to her about things, but then again, Zelda never gave him the chance. Did he deserve her to try to be open as well? She turned away, emotions running rampant. She couldn��t cry, it wasn’t queenly to do so, but she was so tired. She took a deep breath to control herself.

“I… I don’t know if I can trust you,” she finally said softly. She felt Edmund shift beside her.

“Why?”

“I–I’ve watched my father strip my mother of all her power. He took everything away from her, ruled Hyrule as a tyrant, and took control of every aspect of my life. It doesn’t matter if Hyrule gives the power to the queen, the king can take over and I can’t let that happen again. It’s happened to me twice now and… I just… I–” She hiccuped slightly and she rubbed her exhausted eyes. It was quiet as she once again tried to take control of her emotions, and she glanced up at Edmund, who looked horrified.

“I had no idea,” he finally said. “I always– I know we didn’t see each other a lot but… I didn’t know…”

Zelda sniffed and sat up straight. “My father did a good job at hiding it. And he made sure I hid it as well.”

Edmund gave her a sad look. “I’m so sorry. I…” He grew silent for a moment. “... thank you for telling me. I’ll leave you be. A maid should come by with food for you.”

“I-I can’t stay I need to–”

“Zelda.” Edmund gave her a firm look. “I…I ask that you give yourself rest and proper nourishment, please.”

Zelda stared for a moment, remembering the resistance. “I can’t. I still need to meet up with—“ she stopped herself and Edmund raised an eyebrow.

“With… your friends that are taking care of the disappearances?”

Zelda pursed her lips. “Yes.”

“Perhaps I can meet with them in your stead.”

She shook her head quickly. “No I—“ they didn’t know that she was the queen; if Edmund came instead, they would figure it out, even if one already knew about it. And she certainly couldn’t tell Edmund about Sheik. Frustration was apparent on Edmund’s face, and he sucked in a sharp breath and stood up.

“So are you just going to keep pushing yourself until you die? Sure, you may not trust me, I understand that. But you have representatives, diplomats, nobles, even guards that could go in your stead! Why can’t you utilize them?”

“Edmund. I. Can’t. A-at least…” Zelda looked down, her eyes going back and forth between the chocolate orange, the bed, and Edmund. He did have a point; she couldn’t keep going on like this. She really could end up dying from her neglect, which would be an awful thing for Amber and for the resistance. But she knew no one could help the resistance with the disappearances. She had to take care of that herself. But… perhaps with everything else…. Goddesses, she hoped she wasn’t making a mistake. “Could you… just take care of the meetings tomorrow? I must deal with these disappearances on my own.”

Edmund’s expression softened and he nodded. “I’ll take care of them.”

Zelda smiled. “Thank you.”

“Will you… visit Amber before you leave anywhere?”

Her lips parted and she nodded. Edmund nodded back, and for the first time in years, there was a mutual understanding between them. Edmund hesitated for a moment before finally turning to leave. Zelda was left alone, and she contemplated everything that had just happened.

She collapsed after a meeting and slept through the entire day. Her daughter stayed by her side while Edmund took care of the rest of the day. He brought her chocolates and they had a conversation that didn’t result in them fighting. They opened up to each other… and now…

She sighed. She needed to meet with the resistance, that was her first priority. Hopefully it wasn’t too late.

She wasted no time to get into her disguise, despite her exhausted body and rumbling stomach. Just as she was about to sneak out, she remembered what Edmund asked of her.

“Will you… visit Amber before you leave anywhere?”

She sighed. She’s been a terrible mother to her own daughter, not spending any time with her despite Amber desperately wanting to. If the resistance needing to meet up tonight hadn’t been about the missing people, she probably would have been tempted to stay. Maybe spend time with her family, her daughter, and try to be the mother Amber deserved. But she knew this was important; it had better be important. She needed to take care of this, and she needed to find the missing people so that Hyrule would be safe for Amber. If the resistance found out important information about the disappearances—like where the missing people were—she would personally go to rescue them herself and eradicate any threat that came in her way. This threat would come to an end, Zelda would make sure of it.

But it meant she would be gone for a while. So she didn’t know when she would see Amber again.

Zelda quietly snuck into Amber’s room, her daughter curled up in her bed, clutching a bird stuffed animal to her chest. She brought her mask down and walked up to her daughter, emotions going through her once again. Her sweet little Amber, growing up before her very eyes, and she was missing all of it.

Her hand brushed against Amber’s temple and she began to stir. She looked up at her mother and furrowed her brow.

“Mother?”

Zelda’s breath hitched and she helped Amber sit up.

“Amber,” she started, “I know… I know I haven’t been the best mother, but I want you to know that I love you with every fiber of my being.” Zelda pulled Amber close and hugged her. “I love you so much.”

She rocked her back and forth, Amber clinging to her tightly. Despite her dry eyes, Zelda found tears forming, and she had to choke back a sob. Amber however wasn’t hiding her crying, and she felt her tears soaking into her clothes. She finally pulled back, wiping away a tear on Amber’s cheek and rested her forehead against hers.

“I promise I’ll try to be better,” Zelda whispered, pecking her on the forehead, and she stood up, walking towards the door.

“M-mother?” Amber called out.

“I’ll be back,” Zelda promised. “Just stay here with your father and focus on your studies. I… I love you.”

“I love you too…”

Zelda’s heart hurt more than her aching body as she turned away. How many times has she turned her own daughter away? How many times has she brushed her off when Amber reached out? She ran out, her frustrations over herself giving her the energy she needed to escape the castle. How will Amber view her when she grew older? Would she resent her the same way Zelda resented her father? Would she feel unloved by her own mother? She stopped as she reached the entrance to the courtyard, looking back at the castle. She was panting heavily, sad and angry tears finally pouring down her face.

It didn’t matter what her father tried to do to her, Zelda never felt worthy of being queen. She didn’t feel worthy of anything in her life. Especially her own daughter.

Amber deserved a better mother.

For a moment as she stared at her castle, she thought she saw Edmund watching her, but his supposed silhouette went away in an instant. She turned away, her head hanging, and finally marched to Telma’s bar.

It was late, she didn’t know how late it was, but it was late enough for no one to be out in the streets save for a few guards. Sheik’s stomach was cramping terribly, and her throat and tongue felt like sandpaper. She almost wished she stayed behind to eat the food Edmund got for her, but she knew she couldn’t let the resistance down. She leaned against a wall catching her breath, her hand rubbing against a box in her pouch. She didn’t know why she grabbed the chocolate orange Edmund gave her; she supposed she couldn’t leave it behind. She continued onward to Telma’s bar, feeling that it was a much longer walk than what she remembered. She normally went through the dungeons to reach Telma’s bar, but from how she was feeling, she didn’t have the strength to go that way. As if to prove her right, her knees nearly buckled as she went down the stairs, causing her to stumble into the door. She pulled back and blinked harshly trying to clear her head. She took a deep breath to calm herself and she went inside. The bell rang loudly through the empty bar, announcing her presence.

“Sorry, we’re closed right now,” she heard Telma call out from the back. The barmaid poked her head from the curtains and her face lit up. “Sheik! Well, it’s about time you got here, honey!”

Sheik awkwardly shuffled forward, allowing herself to be hugged by Telma.

“S-sorry I’m late,” she mumbled, not caring if Telma heard her or not.

“Oh… it’s not me you should apologize to. The others have already gone to bed, save for Ashei and Shad— well… actually it’s just Ashei,” Telma laughed slightly. Sheik was disappointed that the others had already gone to sleep, it was much later than what she hoped for, but she was slightly relieved that Ashei was the only one awake save for Telma. Though Sheik had tried to keep her Royal identity a secret, Ashei had found out about it. She had to admit, it was nice not having to hide everything from one person. She could at least confide in her with everything that has been happening.

“My, you look terrible,” Telma continued, eyeing Sheik worriedly. “Here, let me whip you up something real quick—“

“Oh, no you don’t have to do that—“ a loud grumble from her stomach interrupted her and Telma raised an eyebrow. Sheik looked down, embarrassed. “Apologies.”

“You’re alright sweetheart, just head to the back and I’ll get you some soup.”

Sheik nodded and walked to the back where she saw Ashei and Shad sitting next to each other. Shad was asleep, his head against Ashei’s shoulder, while Ashei had her arm wrapped around him. She had a pleasant smile on her lips as she watched him, until she looked up, spotting Sheik.

“Are you going to sit down, or are you going to keep watching us like a creep?” She asked, and Sheik straightened.

“A-apologies… I didn’t mean to stare.”

“Don’t worry about it, yeah?” Ashei glanced at Shad, then back at her. “I wanted to stay up to wait for you. I knew you’d get here eventually. He was intent on staying up with me, but I guess he couldn’t do it.”

Sheik smiled despite Ashei not being able to see it. “I’m sorry I came so late.”

“You’re fine, but what happened? Why did it take so long for you to get here?”

“I…” Sheik didn’t want to talk about her fainting today, nor about her lack of sleep, food, and water. “I’ve just been very busy.”

Ashei studied her for a moment. “Are you alright?”

Sheik looked up at her, and simply shook her head. “I’ve been very busy,” she repeated.

“Labryn… Zel—Sheik, you can leave this to the rest of us. You don’t have to help us every second, yeah?”

“I know, but I’m tired of sitting here not knowing what’s going on. Not actively trying to better my kingdom.”

Ashei shook her head. “You can’t do everything by yourself. That’s why the resistance is here, to help Hyrule.”

“I know… I know… I just…” Sheik sighed. Goddesses she was exhausted. The two grew silent until Telma came in with a bowl.

“I could only make some broth, I hope that’s ok, sweet pea.”

Sheik felt herself beginning to drool and she gratefully took the bowl. “This is wonderful, thank you, Telma,” she said. Telma gave her a soft smile.

“Of course honey! That’s why I’m here, to take care of my friends.”

The word “friends” stuck with Sheik, and she looked down at the bowl, her emotions running rampant once again, though her eyes were finally too dry to cry again.

“Now, if you two will excuse me, I’m going to head to bed myself.” Telma turned to Ashei with a teasing smile. “Unless you need me to carry him to bed of course.”

Ashei gave her an annoyed smirk. “I can do that myself. Thank you though.”

The barmaid gave a hearty laugh. “Alright, good night you too. And Sheik? I have some water on the table for you. Take care.”

Sheik glanced at the cup on the table, her thirst becoming unbearable.

“Thank you,” she said again, and Telma turned away, leaving the two women alone. Sheik glanced around, eyeing Shad cautiously, and Ashei caught on.

“Don’t worry, he’s out like a light.”

“But what if he wakes up and sees me without my mask?”

“Then I’ll knock him back out, yeah?”

Sheik chuckled softly and pulled her mask down. Though it wasn’t filling, the broth was amazing, and the water made her feel much better than before. She sighed as she drank the broth, feeling relief run through her body as she finally got nutrients in her body. She glanced at Ashei who watched her worriedly, and she looked down.

“How was Hoz?” Sheik asked.

“Oh, he was fine. Quite determined to find the missing people. He’s a good man.”

Sheik smiled slightly. “Indeed, he is. What did Link and Rusl need?”

Ashei’s breath hitched. “They found what’s been causing these disappearances.”

Sheik gasped and nearly dropped her bowl. Though it was exactly what she had hoped for, she was still surprised that it actually happened. “What is it? What’s causing it?”

“Link thinks it’s a shadow beast.”

Dread instantly filled Sheik’s body. Memories of the beasts breaking through her castle and slaughtering the guards came in at once, and she clenched her fists. How…?

“We hope to make a plan to hunt and kill it, but according to Link, it’s gotten powerful over the past ten years, and it won’t die so easily.”

Sheik swallowed hard and nodded. “I see… any… any news on the people?”

Ashei shook her head sadly. “No, they only mentioned the beast I’m afraid.”

Sheik slumped slightly. If it was a shadow beast taking these people then… they probably weren’t alive anymore. She remembered watching Zant turn her guards into shadow beasts before her eyes, even those who weren’t personally cursed turned when beside them. Even her own parents turned into creatures of darkness…

Were the people dead? Or had they turned into shadow beasts, doomed to be mindless monsters until they’re put out of their misery? Sheik didn’t know. But if that were the case, wouldn’t they have known about the resurgence of shadow beasts? Either way, Sheik was having a hard time being hopeful about the fate of the missing people.

“We’re going to be doing a lot of planning tomorrow,” Ashei continued, “I don’t know when we’ll head out, but if you’re wanting to come with us, I suggest you get some rest, yeah?”

Sheik looked up at Ashei who had a firm expression on her face. Sheik had grown tired of everyone telling her to rest, but with the food and water in her system, she couldn’t fight back the sleepiness.

“Alright,” she mumbled before standing up, staring at her empty bowl confused.

“I can take care of that,” Ashei said, and Sheik set it down awkwardly. “We can talk more tomorrow, yeah?”

Sheik nodded and dragged herself up the stairs where several rooms were hidden. Her eyes were barely open as she tried to find a room to go in. She typically took the first room, so she opened the door and threw her head cover and mask off, closing the door behind her which left the room in total darkness. She stumbled over to the bed closest to her and fell asleep before her head could even hit the pillow.

[rosesofenvy]

Over The Years: Kendra

Burn It Down: Chapter 4 now posted!

Collab with @xinrouska

[bongo-clash]

Peacock Au Part 2

Okay so!!! Part two of this post about the DPxDC eldritch Danny fic that I'm now calling the peacock au lmao!!!!

(Chapter two of the fic under the cut) (Edit: You can now find part 3 Here!!!)

-

When the feeling of being just slightly dispersed settles onto the outer layer of his skin while he’s lying in bed, Danny knows what’s about to happen.

The thing is, he’s in his pyjamas. Sure, he could just stay in his human form for the summoning- because he’s done it before and it went fine- but he never knows who it’s going to be, and being spirited away to some college students’ dorm in his pyjamas is embarrassing. And sure, having something appear in the circle in the first place is probably enough that they’re not paying attention to what he’s wearing either way, but he refuses to bank on that. So, with a sigh, he allows himself the transformation, his human appearance falling easily away. 

It always feels more natural to be a ghost during rituals, probably because they’re summoning a ghost and not a human, but still, it’s different. He feels that little bit looser, maybe even a little more himself, though he guesses being a bit more glow-y is just nice generally, and the space decals that tend pop up as part of his whole light-show-summons are a homely touch. On the other hand, it does make it harder to take stock of his surroundings when he finally fades into view wherever he is. He can make out vague grey walls and floors, but that’s about it. 

Well, that and the man in front of him. Blond, taller than him if he wasn’t in the air, somewhere past his forties, wearing a beige trenchcoat and looking oddly terrified. Danny can see his hands shaking just a little. Does he know this guy from somewhere?

“Uh, dude?” Danny calls, going for something light. It’s annoying being dragged from the comfort of his own home, definitely, but this guy doesn’t look like some cult member, and if he’s alone and this scared it might mean he really needs the help. Danny can sympathise with doing stupid things in stupid situations. “You good? You’re not looking too hot there.”

He knows he’s using ghost speak, but it feels weird to use English in a summoning like this, and fortunately, Danny spies a translation sigil wrapped around the inner centre of the circle, so he knows it should be translating right back to the guy in front of him. Very handy for language barriers, he’ll admit- and it’s working, too, if the reply is any indication. 

“I was told you could- you could help with the pits?”

His voice is gravelly, and he can’t tell if it’s because he’s nervous, doesn’t speak much, a smoker, or all three. Either way, probably not Danny’s business, and right now he’s just curious about what the man’s talking about. “Pits? That’s kinda vague, man. What pits?”

“The Lazarus pits to, uh, to be specific. There’s a huge one cropping up under Gotham that’s not supposed to be there, and the local- I mean, the locals are getting antsy about it. I… heard you could take care of ‘em.”

Lazarus Pits. He’s heard of those, Clockwork’s mentioned them a couple of times. They’re natural portals that open when enough energy is built up, and end up stabilising into the ground instead of collapsing to help seep ambient ectoplasm into the air. They don’t work as actual portals after that, but it’s vital to keep at least a few around no matter how corrupted they can get through human interference, because it keeps the balance of both realms steady. Having too many around isn’t a good thing, though, and especially not in populated areas. It can cause ecto-contamination, which is a lot more dangerous when you haven’t been around it since birth (or if you aren’t from Amity). 

Speaking of which, it certainly is stinking up the place, now that he’s aware of it. Or maybe that’s just Gotham, he’s heard a lot about-

Hang on. Gotham. Weird potentially magic dude. He knew he recognised him! That’s John Constantine! Danny’s heard of John Constantine! Sam’s got her fingers in enough credible occult spaces that they’re at least vaguely aware of some of his endeavours, but if he’s in Gotham then that probably means he’s doing something for the Batman and, wow, Danny totally would’ve tried to go more professional for this if he knew this was going to be his first encounter with the Justice League,of all things. 

Well, he guesses it’s too late now. At least the guy’s not being too weird about it or anything. “Man, yeah, I’ve totally got the smell stuck up my nose now that you mention it. Do you get that as well? Since, y’know, you’ve probably dealt with a couple ghosts.”

“Uh… no, I don’t think so. But can you fix it?”

Dang, the guy seems stressed about this. Maybe he just doesn’t like being in Gotham territory? He’s pretty sure he’s heard of Batman having a thing about magic. “Sure I can.”

“…Will you fix it?”

Danny figures that if they already know about his status through his Zone maintenance duties, and he’s going to be helping the Justice League, he might as well show off a little bit. Assenting with a hum and trying not to grin, he puts his hands to the floor, and lets his ectoplasm reach out to the source of the smell, sending a flash of light across the ground as it goes through. When it twinges back a response, he closes his eyes, and his energy curls around it, threading through like needles to seams, and pushes it shut with a gentle nudge. Luckily, it hadn’t been around for too long- barely fully formed and not even corrupted by human contact yet- it would’ve be a lot more difficult if it had. 

He lets his hands rise up again after a long moment, looking to Constantine for a reaction. He can’t quite gauge what the man is thinking. “Alrighty, that should’ve done it.”

“Uh… cheers?”

He’s about to say something along the lines of ‘no problem’ or ‘you’re welcome’, but then he remembers he should probably warn him about the aftermath so he doesn’t freak. “The pit shouldn’t come back again, but just as like, a PSA: you might see more shades than usual hovering around for the next while. It shouldn’t be too big a deal so long as you leave ‘em alone, though, so don’t worry about it.”

For all that Danny’s trying to be considerate here, Constantine doesn’t look very considerated. “Can I- uh, yeah, great advice. ‘Appreciate it. But, can I ask just, y’know, what you are? Or not.”

“…Dude, what d’you think I am?”He replies, thoroughly bemused. Isn’t this guy supposed to be one of the League’s paranormal experts or something? He really should be able to recognise a ghost by now. “I keep your Lazarus Pits in check. You know, the pits of the dead?”

Okay, maybe a little rude on his side, but he thinks Constantine’s expression is a bit of an overreaction; he can see the sheen of sweat across the man’s forehead reflecting the light of the sigils. “Fair enough! Forget I asked- cheers for sorting out that pit, though. Uh, don’t suppose you’ll just let me go on my way or anything now.”

“Well, I mean, this was a favour for Batman, right?” He asks blithely, pointedly not paying attention to the way the man’s face keeps contorting. He swears Sam said he was more stoic than this. “I’m gonna go- ‘cause I’ve got things to do- but I guess if something comes up I’ll come to you? Or Batman, since this is his city and all. Don’t worry, I’ll let you know.”

Figuring there’s nothing left to be said, Danny lets the return sigil on the edge of the circle activate and punt him back home, wheezing a half-sigh and arching his back once the wispy image of wherever they’d been recedes. He probably looks exhausted after all that- no matter how recently formed the pit was, it still takes a little strain, and he’d just been about to sleep before he got summoned- but looking in the mirror on his wall for confirmation, he doesn’t find his usual face. Something twinges against where his spine should be, confirming its own previously unnoticed presence in the mortal plane. 

…He didn’t go ghost when Constantine summoned him, he used his true form. That must be why he looked so nervous that whole time! And, man, ghostspeak never translates over quite right in this form, either- the Ancients use a different dialect to original ghostspeak- the man probably wasn’t hearing what Danny thought he was at all. What if the only reason he wasn’t attacking was because he was terrified? What must Constantine have thought of him? 

Crap. He has to fix this. How is he going to find him?

[skepsiss]

Modern Problems, Modern Solutions pt 1

Pt2

I have like 4 other parts to this written already but I'll post em when I have time to edit. Yearning with extremely awkward teen Steddie. Eddie as a proper 17 year old would be awkward as hell! I think at least. Additionally, there is quite a bit of swearing so you've been warned. Generally, I just wanted to explore EDDIE catching feelings first and being put out by that.

Modern day AU, or more or less modern give or take 5ish years circa 2015/19. I don't think this takes place in the Hawkins we know from the show.

Small American towns can be kinda backwards, but it varies a lot as to how open and accepting each town/state is. So, suspend disbelief and imagine it as a place that is tolerant of queerness. Also, read with the understanding that in a lot of places in this generalized time people think queerness is actually kinda "trendy" in some ways. It's not taboo but it's also extremely dependant on the person that is queer and "how queer they act". "be gay... but not too gay" etc.--

---

"Did you hear? Steve Harrington just came out as bi--"

Eddie looked up from his phone, feet propped up on the desk in front of him. The boy who had popped his head into their mostly empty homeroom had delivered the news so quickly that everyone there was quietly shocked.

"Son of a bitch," Eddie grumbled, putting his feet down and getting clumps of dirt on the linoleum floor. School hadn't even started and he was already having to deal with this bullshit.

"What?" Gareth asked, laughing a bit awkwardly. He sounded confused like he didn't understand where Eddie was directing his vitriol.

"Leave it to some preppy, jock, rich-boy to make 'being gay' cool--asshole," Eddie's words were drenched in sarcasm and mockery, going as far as to air-quote when he said being gay.

"I've been fucking gay since 8th grade and now some 16-year-old wannabe happens to be queer it's big news?" Eddie sat back with frustration, crossing his arms over his chest and slouching in his seat.

"I don't think you're supposed to say queer--" Jeff started to correct only to shut up quickly when Eddie whipped his head around to him and glared.

"I can say whatever the hell I want. I'm the one that's queer!" Eddie spat, hating that so much of this 'being gay is okay' culture circled around the heterosexual perspective of what was and was not okay.

Eddie grouched for the rest of the day, keeping his head down and feeling his nostrils flare every time a whisper of today's big news passed by him in the hallways. Who fucking cared? Steve Harrington was thee popular boy in school and was talked about as if he was their generation's teen heart-throb. It was to a point where Eddie knew who he was despite him being an underclassman. He was in grade 12 and he still had to hear about Steve Harrington as if he mattered. Sports star, good-looking, daddy's boy.

It was so goddamn annoying. Eddie had been out since he was thirteen and he had suffered through the humiliation of 'being queer' all the way through high school. He had the scars to prove it and it pissed him off that four years later it felt like people were singing Steve's praises for being brave enough to come out. Who fucking cared? Being gay was cool now or something--it gave you an edge and despite the fact that Eddie was bi himself, it truly felt like bisexuality was a cop-out to get girls to think you were hot with no intention to do the whole gay part of it. That was unfair to think, but in his biased opinion, some popular boy didn't deserve to be treated delicately while he had been in the trenches over it.

Eddie glared as the school day ended as he walked outside into the Autumn air. He could see Steve across the parking lot chatting to a gaggle of people around his car. He was smiling and laughing and everyone seemed so eager to let him know they accepted him. Or whatever the fuck. He couldn't actually hear what they were saying.

"Does the torture of high school know no fucking end?" Eddie grumbled, stuffing his hands in his pockets, not paying attention to where he was going.

"Tell me about it."

Eddie looked up at the sound of a voice; the words that were spoken dripped with sarcasm. Robin was leaning against her bike by Eddie, bag slung over her shoulder as she watched the fanfare from a safe distance--same as Eddie. Robin was president of the LGBT-Alliance club, and Eddie knew her from band. Robin was two years younger than him, but she had come in hot and loud about being a lesbian straight from jump. Despite how meek she was in many regards, she was smart and dedicated to her beliefs. Eddie could respect that.

"Get a load, huh?" Eddie asked, scoffing as he glanced back over at Steve.

"Hmm," Robin offered quietly, staring for a moment before starting to put on her helmet, "he's been coming to meetings pretty regularly over the last couple of months, you know."

Eddie looked back at Robin, surprised to hear her... defending Steve Harrington? He thought it was unanimous that geeks and weirdos like them hated guys like that.

"You'd know if you ever showed up for meetings," Robin said a bit flippantly, and Eddie frowned at her.

He had tried the whole LGBT-Alliance thing and it just wasn't his space. It was boring and he hated that the group generally just talked about events and progress they should make. He didn't want any of that, he just wanted to hang out with a couple of people that were queer like him. He didn't want to be scheduling and painting signs or whatever the fuck. He had his own things to do after school--band, D&D, chucking dirt wads at a wall--anything was better than sitting in what was essentially a business meeting.

"Come on," Eddie grumbled, not wanting to acknowledge that if Steve had been attending the LGBT-Alliance meetings that this 'leaving the closet thing' had been a long time coming.

"He's actually a decent guy," Robin defended as she adjusted her helmet straps, "all things considered."

Eddie huffed a laugh, scoffing at Robin.

"Didn't think I'd be hearing this from you, Buckley--I thought lesbians were supposed to hate all men or something," Eddie retorted, not really meaning it but feeling confrontational.

"Don't be a drag," Robin sighed, rolling her eyes at the comment, "talk to Will Byers about it or whatever. He's in your D&D thing, right?"

"Hellfire," Eddie corrected, thinking about that for a moment. Will was in both their clubs and he was close friends with Dustin--who also seemed to adore Steve Harrington for some reason. It was stupid, he didn't understand why half the kids in his after-school club liked the guy. Eddie had never had any personal conflict with Steve, but he fit the shape of every guy Eddie had ever taken issue with.

"Whatever," Robin retorted, getting onto her bike, "you know we're having a mixer next weekend. You should come."

Eddie looked at her, frowning again. He didn't want to go to a mixer, whatever she meant by that. Robin seemed to pick up on the mild confusion he had around the comment, explaining further.

"Geez, there's like posters around the school, Eddie. Our alliance and like 4 other schools in our district are having like an LGBT dance, mixer, party or whatever. Hosting in Talho on Saturday. We've got a pretty big turnout already, tickets are five bucks."

"Five bucks?" Eddie huffed, acting as if that number was ridiculous for an event like this. He didn't want to admit that it sounded kind of... nice. With four other school districts... that meant there would be a lot of guys that were undeniably queer he'd get to meet for the first time if he went. That was something. It'd really be something if he walked away with a date.

"I'll think about it," Eddie said, waving Robin off and continuing his slouch across the parking lot to start his long walk home.

—--

"Call me if you need a ride," Wayne said as Eddie shuffled out of the cab of the truck. He stood at the door, having to look up at Wayne in order to see him from how much the suspension of Wayne's old gas-guzzler hoisted the truck off the ground.

"Yeah, yeah," Eddie huffed, feeling put out already for having decided to come. He was having second thoughts as he stood there, holding Wayne's door.

"Eddie," Wayne said a bit more firmly, looking for a straight answer.

"I'll call if I need a ride home-- or whatever," Eddie replied, sounding annoyed as he shut the door and turned towards the school gym.

It was obvious where the event was being hosted and he felt weird showing up alone. He had decided to come after much lamenting, resigning himself to just chatting to Will all night if he hated the damn thing. It felt weird, and he quietly hoped that at least some people his age would show up. He didn't want to be stuck as the oldest person there amongst a sea of 14 and 15-year-olds.

The event wasn't formal, but Eddie had tried to clean up a bit. He'd left his leather jacket and vest at home, opting for just an old denim jacket and a T-shirt that didn't have a band or logo on it. Other than that, he was still in scuffed-up shoes and ripped jeans, but he hoped that didn't put people off. Not that it mattered. Not that he ultimately cared. He didn't want to talk to anyone who had a problem with it to begin with, but it still made him feel self-conscious. Really, he hadn't dressed up because he didn't have anything to dress up into. Even the debate of if this was worth five bucks or if he should save it in order to get the luxury of sub-par pizza next week had been a difficult choice to make. He hated showing up to things like this and sticking out like a sore thumb--he hated being easily marked as poor.

Eddie paid his entry fee and stepped into the gym; the decorations were tacky and everything screamed 'event put on by teenagers.' There was something kind of charming about that though, even if it felt a bit pedestrian. It was sort of as he feared though... there were people here--a decent amount--but everyone looked so... young. The realisation made Eddie tense a bit as he moved over to the refreshments table and idled before getting a drink.

Great. Just great. He had spent five bucks for an awkward night leaning against a wall and drinking fruit punch.

"Eddie!"

Eddie turned to see Robin waving at him. She had a vest with a button on it signifying that she was a leader in the club. She probably had responsibilities to attend to during the night, but she did look mildly excited to see him there.

Feeling like he didn't have much of an option, Eddie migrated in her direction, feeling very self-conscious about the whole thing.

"Hey, you made it," Robin offered, a few people hovering around her. It was sort of obvious that she was busy, but Eddie appreciated her taking the time to say hi.

"Yeah, figured I'd check it out at least," Eddie said, talking into his cup as he looked around the room. He didn't really have time to lament though as a small commotion worked its way towards them.

"Sorry--sorry!"

Eddie looked to see Steve Harrington making his way over to them with what looked like 4 dozen balloons. It was kind of comical really, seeing him try to fight past the sea of bobbing, colourful globes.

"Steve!" Robin said sharply, her volume subdued but still stern.

"Sorry--there was a hold-up--" Steve replied, awkwardly trying to move the balloons to see past them and talk directly to Robin.

"Oh—oh-How-what? A holdup?" Robin mocked back, tisking as she took a bundle of the balloons from Steve and handed them to the girls beside her.

"Uh, yeah, Buckley. There was a holdup, you gagging on ten-dollar lipstick or something?" Steve retorted quickly "looks good by the way." He was gesturing to the make-up Robin had on and the bright red lipstick she had applied which was fairly different compared to her usual look.

Eddie snorted into his cup, choking slightly as he tried to hold back from laughing at the burn. Robin looked offended for half a beat before smacking one of the balloons directly into Steve's face and taking the rest of the handful.

"Ow--hey," Steve complained, getting aggressively jostled as Robin walked past him.

Despite what was being said, the whole exchange had been... friendly. It was weird really, it looked and sounded like Robin and Steve were actually friends. They were toying with each other and being bitchy in a way Eddie had only ever seen best buddies do, which was really goddamn weird to see coming from a superstar, jock hunk, and the local raging feminist, band geek.

"You're on my shit-list," Robin commented, pointing over her shoulder at Steve and then bustling off with the other girls and the balloons. Obviously, they had been meant for decorations and Robin was now rushed to finish setting everything up. The whole exchange had been so quick Eddie hadn't even been able to properly react before he was standing there... with Steve.

Steve turned towards him and Eddie averted his gaze, still holding his punch glass up to his lips.

"Hey," Steve greeted, sounding much too charming.

"Hey," Eddie mumbled back, turning slightly and facing the room instead of looking at Steve. He didn't walk away, that felt like a bridge too far, but he wasn't going to open himself up to a conversation.

"Eddie, right?" Steve asked, and Eddie glanced at him, watching Steve push his hair back into place. He hadn't realised, but Steve was panting slightly, obviously catching his breath from... probably running in here to deliver Robin's balloons.

"Yeah," Eddie confirmed, looking away again as he slouched. Great. He was stuck talking to Steve with no obvious escape plan. Perfect.

"Steve--"

"I know who you are," Eddie replied, not letting Steve finish his introduction. It had probably just been to be polite anyway, but it was obvious that Eddie knew who he was. They went to school together. They had mutual friends. It wasn't rocket science.

That shut Steve up for a moment and chewed at Eddie's guts. That had been a bit rude. Steve hadn't actually done anything wrong, yet, so really he should just save it for another time. Steve was stuck here too after all, with a bunch of kids just like Eddie.

"Pretty... young," Eddie said, watching the gym as people mingled. It really was just a bunch of 14 or 15-year-olds chatting with one another. They seemed to be having fun, and Eddie was glad for that since he hadn't had anything like this when he was that age.

"Hm, yeah," Steve replied, sounding kind of amused for some reason. "Always the damn babysitter, huh?"

Eddie glanced at him for that comment, not really understanding where it was coming from.

"Yeah..." Eddie offered, wondering if he had said it because Hellfire Club also skewed younger. He had seen Steve drop Dustin off before, scolding him like a mother would over something, but he had never come inside to meet anyone at Hellfire. Eddie had just noticed it was all.

An awkward silence drew out between them and Eddie could tell that Steve was starting to feel uncomfortable too.

"You seen Will Byers anywhere?" Eddie asked, looking for an out. He knew that Steve knew Will, he was one of those mutual friends.

"Oh, yeah," Steve offered, not making a motion to point anywhere, "but I'd leave him alone tonight if I were you."

Eddie quirked a brow at Steve, something of a challenge in his stance as he looked at him. Why on earth would he leave Will Byers alone tonight?

"I drove him--" Steve half explained, obviously realising that he needed to elaborate, "that's why uh I'm--it doesn't matter. There's a boy here that he likes."

Eddie's eyebrows shot up at Steve's explanation, looking back at the floor and the sea of dweeby, little gays circling each other awkwardly. Oh. Right. This was a lot of people's first chance to do anything with someone queer like them. He hadn't considered that Will would have someone here he intended to talk to.

Eddie laughed, both at his own stupidity and the charming realisation that he was glad this whole thing was happening, even if he wasn't having a good time.

"Good for him," Eddie snorted, cheersing the room and taking a swig of his punch.

"God," Eddie sighed, finding the humour in this whole thing now, "who the hell am I supposed to bother now?"

He was lamenting for no real reason, wondering quietly to himself if he should hold out and wait to see if anyone else his age showed up or if he should just cut his losses and start the long walk home. At least then, once he got back, Wayne would just assume he got a ride and had a good time. He didn't want to admit to Wayne that he ditched, not after he had agonised over whether or not it was worth it to spend the five dollars. Wayne had supported him going and assured him it wasn't a waste if he wanted to go. Eddie didn't want to prove him wrong.

Eddie glanced at Steve, wondering how he was going to excuse himself now that his out was occupied. He caught Steve looking at him and quickly looked forward again, surveying the room. That was weird. Eddie took note of that, slowly looking back at the party unfolding before them.

"So... Bi, huh?" Eddie offered, not sure why he was trying. He'd give it until he finished his glass of punch and then he'd walk home if no one interesting entered the party.

Steve seemed to laugh a bit awkwardly to that, doing this weird thing with his hands where he clasped them behind his back and then swung them forward to clasp at his front. It was the most uncomfortable Eddie had ever seen him--not that he had paid a ton of attention to Steve before now.

Oh. Eddie realised, feeling his chest clench a little, this was a lot of people's first chance to talk to another queer person. He was the oldest one here, closely followed by Steve... they were both fish out of water. Steve had the club, but there weren't a lot of guys their age that Eddie knew of who were queer. Steve had been mingling with kids this whole time. He was the elder here... weird.

"Yeah, I didn't really expect it to become a whole... thing," Steve replied, shaking Eddie from his thoughts. Right, he had pointedly questioned Steve's sexuality. Classy.

"Yeah, well, they'll get over it," Eddie retorted, feeling a bit bad now that he had been so dismissive of Steve's attempt to talk to him.

"I mean, it's been fine, I guess," Steve replied, sounding unsure of himself but not exactly bothered. Eddie could understand that, he didn't have the same experience per se, but all the guys at Hellfire knew he was queer and it was fine. He could remember being unsure though how gay he got to act around them all. It had been awkward and uncomfortable to find the rhythm of where you all sat, even if no one was blatantly rejecting you.

"Feels like you and everyone else are walking on eggshells about it, right?" Eddie asked, sighing as he leaned back until he hit the wall behind them, slouching.

"Something like that," Steve replied, his words coming out slowly as he watched Eddie and then took half a step back to join him against the wall.

"My advice? Just don't fall in love with your best friends," Eddie joked, only half serious. It verged on real advice, but it wasn't like it was something you could help.

Steve laughed anyway, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Yeah, as if. No thanks."

Something about that made Eddie smile a bit. Steve had been so dismissive of the idea as if the mere mention of having a mild interest in some jock was unheard of.

Eddie took a swig of his punch, swallowing hard as he started to relax a little bit.

"I'm bi too, you know," he said, sucking his upper lip to get the rest of the juice off.

"I can't remember if I used that word when I came out though--people just sort of figured with me, I don't think I really had to tell anyone."

"Yeah?" Steve asked, sounding interested but not sure how to progress.

"Uh, c'ya, what do you think?" Eddie mocked back, flipping his long hair over his shoulders and then flicking it back with his hands from side to side as if he were walking down some kind of runway. Long hair didn't mean you were gay, but it was a step towards making people think you were.

Steve laughed at that too, properly this time without that edge of awkwardness to it. That, in turn, made Eddie smile a bit. He liked it when people found him funny, it felt good to make people laugh. It felt better still to be joking about something gay and not having to correct or explain anything to the other person. Steve was queer too, even if he was new at this, there wasn't that same level of judgment. Huh... funny though that he suddenly just accepted that Steve was queer when he had been put off by the idea initially.

The night carried on like that and Eddie was surprised to find... that he didn't mind talking to Steve all that much. There were quite a few cultural touchstones that he didn't have when it came to 'nerd shit' but he didn't seem to be annoyed by Eddie explaining those things to him if it was necessary. Eddie had gotten a bit louder and more loose before too long, even if he wasn't exactly buddy-buddy with Steve. And Steve, surprisingly, had stuck with him the whole night. Really, the event hadn't matured at all and Eddie had little desire to go mingle with the kids--especially when the kid that he knew here was probably trying his best to flirt. What the hell was he supposed to do? Walk up to a group of youngsters and just ask what they were talking about? "Trust me, trust me. I play games with children all the time!" Yeah, no.

Eddie's watch beeped at him and he looked at it, turning the little digital screen off. It wasn't that late, just past 10 really, but the longer he waited the more miserable the walk home would be.

"Well, that's my queue," Eddie said, pushing off the wall and leaving his cup on a table by them. "I should go."

He stuffed his hands in his pockets, not regretting having come after all, but not really feeling like staying either. Steve had made the night bearable, but Eddie wasn't all that eager to keep it up.

"Why? Or you'll turn into a pumpkin?" Steve asked, teasing a little.

Eddie snorted at him, finding that line incredibly cheesy and in turn kind of funny because of that.

"Yeah, I've got to go traipse into the woods and take root or I'll start sprouting weeds like a chia-pet."

Steve chuckled at him, looking over to the doors. Eddie started walking towards the exit anyway, and Steve seemed surprised that he was actually going. He got off the wall and walked a few paces with Eddie before they both stopped, lingering a bit.

"I've just got to start walking home," Eddie explained, pinching his brows in, finding it kind of amusing that Steve seemed... concerned? He wasn't sure, it felt out of character for a cool guy to be following him.

"Walking home?" Steve asked, again, sounding surprised. "To Hawkins?"

"No to the moon, Bilbo was writing about me. Yeah back to Hawkins," he answered sarcastically, jamming his thumb towards the doors. Steve didn't seem bothered by the reply, even if he squinted for a moment with confusion with Eddie's mention of Bilbo.

"You live at Hawkins Trailer Park, right?" Steve asked.

The question instantly made Eddie tense, and he set his jaw a bit.

"Yeah, why?" He asked, sounding a bit defensive. He didn't like this line of questioning. It always felt weird when people commented on the fact that he lived in a trailer park. It especially felt weird coming from rich-boy Steve Harrington.

"Jeez, chill. I'll give you a ride, I live near there too," Steve explained, taking his keys out of his pocket and jostling them, "Hawkins is too far to walk to from here."

Eddie blinked at him a moment, floored by the offer for some reason.

"You don't have to do that, man," Eddie replied, feeling extremely awkward all of a sudden. "You should stay."

"And do what?" Steve asked, sounding amused. He looked over his shoulder at the crowd of young teens chatting and mingling before looking back at Eddie with a raised brow.

"Fair enough," Eddie replied, banishing his guilt for now. Steve was right though, Hawkins was far to walk to from here and there really wasn't a lot keeping Steve at the mixer. Will was getting a ride home from his brother and Robin was too busy fussing over every little thing to mingle. Plus, the event really would be closing soon so Steve didn't have to stay.

Eddie still felt awkward as he walked up to Steve's beamer and prepared himself to feel awkward the whole drive back to Hawkins. It was a nice car and he couldn't help but constantly think about how he had never been in a car this nice before. It wasn't brand-spanking new, but it almost felt like it with how clean it was. The car was spotless really and it was obvious that Steve took extremely good care of his ride.

"This is... uh, a nice ride," Eddie said, running his hands over the dash as Steve drove, before sitting back again.

"Thanks," Steve replied, chuckling a little. Eddie really was admiring the car; he wasn't a gear-head but he could appreciate a nice ride. Thrill bubbled in Eddie's stomach all of a sudden as he glanced at Steve.

"How fast can this thing go?"

Steve looked at him in turn, the moment drawing out between them before Steve's lips cracked into a smile.

"Want to find out?"

Eddie's eyes widened and he smiled back, surprised and pleased that his ask was being met. God, it was so stupid. They were being such teenagers right now. Steve in his daddy's bought, fast car with the punk, bad-influence kid in his passenger's seat ready to tear it up on the freeway.

Steve pulled off the main road and Eddie's stomach swooped with excitement. He didn't know where they were going but he figured Steve knew somewhere they could drive without hitting anyone. He didn't want to be stupid about it, maybe a bit reckless, but hey--they were young. When else were they going to do this shit?

Eddie leaned forward, turning on the radio and fiddling with the dial.

"What're you doing?" Steve asked, sounding amused as they drove towards some back, country road. Perfect.

"Finding the right music!" Eddie replied, sounding equal parts excited and exasperated for being asked. He was flicking through the dial quickly, only pausing for a beat or two before switching again until he found what he was looking for.

"You done?" Steve asked as Eddie paused for a moment longer to confirm that he liked the song. He looked at Steve before cranking the volume dial and sticking his tongue out.

"Let's fucking go," Eddie whooped, sitting back and bracing himself as he felt Steve hit the gas and they started rocketing down the road.

Fear mingled with thrill as Eddie sat back, holding onto the door as they drove down this pitch-black road. He shouted with excitement, obviously stressed but having a blast. Steve seemed cool as could be, smiling with the thrill of it too but none of Eddie's anxieties.

"Fuckin' hell--" Eddie managed as they reached a bend and Steve slowed down to take it. He started to decelerate, their quick little drag race having finished.

"We should do that again!" Eddie continued, panting a bit as he felt his heart pounding in his chest.

"Chill out--" Steve snorted, falling back into the rules of the road as he stopped at an unmarked rail crossing. "Cops like to drive around here--we'd be risking it."

"Boooo," Eddie called, smiling in a joking way. He understood and he wouldn't push it even if he wanted that adrenaline rush again.

"Another time then," Eddie replied finally, pausing for a moment as he realised he had assumed he'd be in Steve's car again for some reason.

"Sure," Steve answered back easily, chuckling a little.

Eddie glanced at him, before reaching to turn the music volume back down. He didn't turn it off though, needing the quiet metal to help settle him.

Steve sure did laugh a lot, didn't he? Was Eddie really that amusing?

Eddie felt his pocket buzz and he squirmed before taking his phone out. It was Wayne. He was asking if Eddie needed a ride, surely expecting that Eddie had lost track of time or something like that. Eddie let the car fall into silence as he replied back to Wayne, feeling a bit weird all of a sudden. He kept typing and retyping what to say.

No, I got a ride from a friend. Were Steve and him friends?

I'm good. Too vague, it would worry Wayne too much.

Some guy gave me a lift. That sounded sketchy as hell. Eddie just settled on 'no, I got a ride' and left it at that, but it made him feel weird regardless.

"Everything okay?" Steve asked, drawing Eddie's attention back to him.

"Oh, yeah, no, yeah. Just my uncle wondering how I was getting home," Eddie explained, feeling weird about Steve asking him something like that. Robin had been right... he really wasn't such a bad guy after all.

"So," Eddie said, breaking the silence, running his hands over the seat, "this car get you mad puss?" He asked, his tone jovial and teasing as he stuck his tongue out between his fingers, being lewd on purpose. He didn't know why his default was raunchy humour, but it had tumbled out of him before he thought too hard about it.

"God, shut up--" Steve replied in good humour, sounding surprised and amused by the sudden comment.

"I know I've got a reputation, but jeez, man," Steve laughed, driving them back onto the main road towards Hawkins.

"So... that a yes?" Eddie teased, enjoying this little banter.

"Yeah," Steve confirmed, before glancing at Eddie out of the corner of his eye with a wry smile.

Eddie burst out laughing at that, finding it more than a little amusing that Steve was leaning into the tease and taking it on the chin.

"Fuck, dude," Eddie giggled, not sure why that was just so amusing. It felt so weird to have good-boy, Steve Harrington talking to him about getting laid. This was so fucked up. This was so fucking weird.

"So," Steve started as Eddie stared out the window, still grinning to himself a bit, "how long have you known you were..."

Eddie glanced at Steve before lounging against the door, smiling at him.

"Queer?"

Steve looked at Eddie from the corner of his eye, obviously a little unsure of himself.

"You can say it you know," Eddie offered, crossing his arms and looking nonplussed. "If you are one, you get to say it as long as you're not like slurring it at someone or something. Welcome to the restricted section."

"Alright..." Steve replied, sounding a little unsure still. Eddie smiled at that too, finding it a bit charming how baby gay Steve was over the whole thing. He felt a bit superior all of a sudden, and he liked that feeling with Steve. He was in a fast car with the most popular boy in school and he was talking to him about how to be queer. What a trip.

"Since forever," Eddie replied, "I've known since forever. It was more weird for me to figure out that not everyone felt the same way. Like, girls--guys, whatever. Hot people are hot, end of story."

Steve nodded to that and Eddie tucked into the corner of his seat, feeling cool and relaxed as he watched Steve drive.

"You?"

Steve seemed to waffle a bit at the question, putting too much thought into it no doubt.

"I don't know," he finally replied, looking dissatisfied with his own answer, "somewhat recently, I think? It's like... I acknowledged it maybe a few months ago but, I don't know. Before that, I sort of felt like I was being dramatic or something? Like, obviously, I like girls so that's fine, it felt kinda... cliche?"

Eddie cringed a bit at the phrase Steve used, nodding his head and glancing away. He had much the same judgment towards Steve until recently. That had been unfair. It didn't matter that Steve was popular or that there had been less risk involved in his 'coming out' compared to Eddie. He was pretty and sporty and even if there was something a little cliche about an all-American boy like him turning out to be queer it didn't mean it was wrong.

"Your folks know?" Eddie asked, talking softer, not wanting to pry if Steve didn't want to talk about it.

"Yeah," Steve answered easily, his tone unreadable. "They knew before I uh... came out socially?"

Eddie nodded, rubbing his head against the window and feeling the car vibrate under him.

"They... cool?" He asked, feeling a bit weird about the whole thing. He was older than Steve, but he didn't really feel like he was. Steve had so much... going on. He had his own car, activities, career paths--he seemed so put together. He was perfectly coiffed and dressed, his car spotless... Eddie was the exact opposite. He wanted to be a musician and he worked hard at it, but sometimes it felt like he was putting all his eggs in one basket.

"Uh.... yeah, mostly," Steve replied, sounding a bit hesitant.

"That great, huh?" Eddie asked, smiling lightly and trying to sound sympathetic.

"No, well, my mom seems pretty accepting of it. Unsure like... nervous? I don't know. My dad... I don't really know what he thinks yet. He's--it doesn't matter."

Eddie frowned slightly as Steve cut himself off. It was a personal topic and he didn't blame him for not wanting to share, but it felt kind of bad to hear Steve say it didn't matter.

"What about your uh... uncle?" Steve asked, sounding awkward as he shifted the conversation.

"Yeah, he's cool," Eddie replied, looking back out the window, "I don't think he really knows how to be supportive necessarily so he's just like... trucking on but he's never dropped the ball. Treats all my... gay shit as if it was just normal shit." Eddie replied, laughing a little bit. He knew he was lucky to have Wayne. Not every queer person had a supportive family and once upon a time, he hadn't had that either. Wayne was a saviour... in more ways than one.

"That's... cool," Steve answered and Eddie snorted a little at how awkward the delivery had been.

"What?" Steve replied, sounding a bit amused.

"That's... cool," Eddie mocked, making his voice sound girly and vapid.

"Shut up," Steve scoffed, drawing up the syllables a bit.

Eddie grinned, liking that Steve seemed to be easy to torment. He went for the bait every time, but he never seemed overly offended.

"Gee wiz, Eddie, your uncle seems like such a cool guy," Eddie continued, being annoying on purpose. He kept it up as Steve started to laugh in mock annoyance. "Let's you go to a pre-teen party and everything."

"Stop--" Steve booed, glancing at Eddie quickly before purposefully wobbling the steering wheel and making the car quickly veer back and forth.

Eddie jolted up right at the movement, grabbing the door.

"Shit--don't--" Eddie squawked, smiling despite how that had made his stomach drop.

"Asshole--" Eddie jeered, looking at Steve who was grinning back at him. Okay, so Steve was actually fun? Was this why Dustin and those kids liked him so much? Mr. Uptight-jock was actually a little bit of a wild child hidden behind good hair and a dazzling smile?

Eddie settled into his seat, feeling kind of good about the night as he looked back out the window and let the rest of the drive grow quiet. They weren't far from Hawkins now and a part of Eddie felt kind of strung out from the weird emotional whiplash of the night.

"You know," Eddie said as they pulled up towards the trailer park, "you're actually not a bad guy, Steve Harrington."

Steve looked at him, eyebrows pinched in with mild concern.

"Thanks?"

"It's a compliment," Eddie scoffed in a friendly way, unbuckling his seatbelt as Steve drove slowly down the gravel road.

"Oh, well, thank you then," Steve reiterated a bit more sarcastically.

"You're also kind of a bitch," Eddie retorted, smiling at him and getting an incredulous sound from Steve. The car pulled to a stop and Eddie climbed out. He shut the door but lingered a second until Steve rolled down the window. He leaned over the frame and looked in at Steve.

"I can see why those kids think you're kind of cool," Eddie continued, feeling kind of... charmed. "Guess that makes you cool in my books too."

"Cool? Or cool?" Steve asked, mocking Eddie's previous buffoonery.

Eddie laughed, shaking his head as he leaned back.

"You're a bit of a dork too, you know that?"

He liked dorky guys.

"A dork? This? Coming from you?" Steve asked, inching his car forward a bit to keep Eddie in view of the window.

"Oh, cram-it," Eddie retorted, flipping Steve off through the window. He patted the doorframe lightly, careful not to hit it with any of his rings.

"Thanks for the ride though," Eddie swallowed, not really looking at Steve but still trying to be friendly.

"Yeah, man. Don't worry about it."

Eddie nodded, feeling weird about just walking away. He kind of wanted to stay out, chat more, and just listen to the radio with Steve which was... a weird thought. They didn't really have anything in common, and somehow Eddie knew that they weren't going to talk again at school. Steve was popular, he wasn't. Eddie was graduating this year, and Steve was 16. They ran in completely different circles.

"Kay, well, later then," Eddie offered, half waving his hand in front of the window before sticking his hands in his pockets and walking towards his trailer. Steve didn't say anything back, but he waited for Eddie to get his door open before pulling away like a proper gentleman.

The whole night felt... so odd to Eddie. He didn't know if he could say he had a good time, or even what had happened during the night, but it had been... nice. It had nothing to do with the mixer or anything Eddie had prepared himself for that night but instead, his good mood rested solely on his interaction with Steve. It was so weird and it left him feeling like he was in limbo. Like this night had been a weird pocket event and he'd never have a repeat of anything like it again. Nothing big had happened, nothing important, and there was nothing to remember about it really... but it felt like he wanted to hold onto it somehow.

Eddie huffed and stretched his lips, before finally taking the last few steps into the trailer. There was no point dwelling on something he couldn't touch and thinking too hard about it would probably ruin everything anyways. This could just be a one off. He could just look back on this and think about how nice it had been to bond... with Steve Harrington.

[greeenchrysanthemums]

Thus Always to Tyrants

Chapter 1: The Start of the Fall

Gem is the commander of the Wintertide royal army, Grian is the leader of a resistance hell bent on taking the crown down no matter the cost. It was only natural that they would become enemies.

Chapter 1 (you are here) -> Chapter 2

Read on ao3 ❀ here ❀

CW: past/mentioned war, non-graphic violence.

Words: 6,493

Pov: Gem

❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀

The tip of Gem’s sword punctured the dummy’s chest, right through the center of the worn out fabric X sewn into its burlap surface. She planted her foot right under where the blade was buried and kicked it away with enough force to send it crashing to the ground, freeing her sword in the process. The dummy rolled away from her,  it’s sewn on face frowning up at her sadly in an almost comedic way as it went. She panted and stood up straight, rolling her shoulders to release some of the tension they had collected in the muscles. 

Her ears were met with a round of clapping, and she turned to smile at the group of young knights and squires who had gathered at the edge of the training grounds to observe her sword play. She gave an elegant, somewhat exaggerated, bow before turning to look up at the sky. She shielded her eyes from the shining rays as she checked the sun’s position. It was just about noon by this point, if not nearing it. She should be on her way, lest she be late.

“That will be all from me, I’m afraid. I’m in danger of receiving a verbal lashing from sir Impulse.” She joked to the trainees with an apologetic smile. 

“Do you really have to go?” One of the younger squires asked with big, pleading eyes. The others echoed the sentiment, all trying to convince her to stay and show them more.

“Unfortunately, yes, I do,” She said, “It’s a very important day today, as you all know, and my presence cannot be missed. Why don’t you lot work on what I just showed you until you are called to join us, and then you can show me your improvement another day. How does that sound?” There was a chorus of disappointed vocalisations, but they got back to their own work pretty quickly after a stern look was thrown their way.

She walked over to the fallen dummy and took a moment to stand it upright so that it was ready for the next person to use. She jogged over to where she had abandoned her water skin at the edge of the training ring, expertly tossing the practice sword she had borrowed into the designated barrel behind the dummies as she went. She took a few greedy gulps of sweet, crisp water before wiping away the sweat that had accumulated on her brow with the hem of her sleeve. Her clothes were damp with sweat and sticking to her skin, but where she was heading would be just as hot, if not more, so she was not worried about it. 

She really should not have let herself be roped into showing off to the younger knights and squires, but how could she not? She simply could not resist their charms; she had no choice but to say yes when they came to her on her way out to beg that she show them a few basic forms. They reminded her far too much of her younger self, she supposed. Bright eyed, full of admiration, and ready and eager to learn. There had been someone once in her life that was willing to give in to her pleas and show her everything they knew, she only thought it fair that she be the same kind of role model in these kids' lives. She would just die if she didn’t live up to their expectations. If that meant she ended up a little late every now and then? So be it.

She hooked the skin to her belt and bid the young ones an enthusiastic farewell, which they returned with varying degrees of equal cheerfulness and disappointment, and with that, she was off. She darted through the servant's entrance and into the kitchen, where she quickly snagged a bread roll out of a basket on one of the counters, giggling at the indigent shout of “Commander!” from one of the cooks as she did so. She waved goodbye to them, and they rolled their eyes at her, crossing their arms as she rounded the corner into the hall.

She made her way through the corridors with the bread roll secured safely in her bite, the loud clanking of her armor bouncing off of the high walls. As she ran, she took the opportunity to fix her bun, which had gotten rather messy during her little showing off session. She tucked loose strands back where they belonged and tightened the binding holding the bun and the braid together. It probably still looked a right mess, but at least it was a little more presentable. With her hair out of her face, she took a large bite out of the roll, groaning at the sweet, buttery taste of it.

She haphazardly shoved the rest of the roll into her mouth and chewed as fast as she could without choking. She licked the flakey crumbs from her fingers and wiped the rest of the mess off on the skirt of her dress. Not the most polite or proper, and her mama would definitely scold her for doing it, but she had not the time to worry about manners. She was going to be late; later than she probably already was.

She waved to the on duty guard at the main door and he yelled for her to have a good time just as she exited earshot. She lifted up the hem of her dress as she ran down the front steps, trying to avoid tripping over the expanse of fabric. She stumbled a little on the final step, pinwheeling her arms in order to steady herself before carrying on her way. 

She squinted against the sun in her eyes and slowed her pace to a light jog, a smile coming onto her face as she caught sight of her friends and the small group of guards waiting at the front gate for her. Impulse and Scott looked up as she skidded to a stop in front of them. She put her hands on her hips and bent slightly at the waist as she tried to catch her breath. 

“Worry not, I am here!” She proudly declared as she straightened her stance.

“Here, and late.” Scott said from where he was leaned against the wall, arms crossed, and one foot propped against the stone. His long hair was pulled over his shoulder into a braid, a stray stand of the blue locks falling into his amused face. Impulse beside him stood more casually with his thumbs tucked into the belt around his waist. The eldest man stifled a laugh at her expense.

“I will have you know that I am barely late. It is hardly even noon yet!” Gem defended with her hands still on her hips, turning her nose up at him in a playful manner.

“Late is late, Commander,” Scott laughed, his heterochromatic eyes gleaming with delight at her defensiveness. Gem opened her mouth to continue the friendly argument, but was halted by Impulse’s hand’s clamping down on either of their shoulders.

“Alright, that’s enough out of you two. Let's be on our way before our absence is missed.” Impulse said. Despite being lower in rank than her, Impulse was the oldest out of them, and one of her best friends, so Gem took no offense when he gave her a light shove in the direction of the town.

Gem took the lead as they exited the front gates, bidding the guards up at the top of the tall wall a goodbye as she went. Truth be told, it really was not too much of an issue that they were heading out a little later than what they expected. She had long ago coordinated and dispatched another unit to go ahead of them early this morning. Not only that, but her presence was not something that was strictly required, it was a personal choice. Technically there was no way for them to be late to this event. Scott simply enjoyed pulling her leg, and she, his.

The journey to town didn’t take them very long - a journey that they could have made shorter had the capital not been too crowded to bring horses on a day like this -  and in the blink of an eye they were entering the crowded city. 

Stands and carts littered the usually empty streets, filled to the brim with rare goods and flooded by customers eager to get their hands on whatever was being offered. The decadent smell of cooking meats and spices filled her nose and caused her mouth to water, the faint hint of baked goods and perfumes lingering just under the surface. Lively music filled the air, as did laughter and conversation. Over the heads of many a passersby she could see a stage set up in the center of the city square, where a band was playing the jolly tune that could be heard. 

If one was to look even further, they would also catch sight of even more booths and carts, designated entirely to games and things of the like. There were even places set up for the trading of livestock and furniture. Buildings were lined with decorations that were vibrant in colour.

The event wasn’t to officially begin for another quarter of an hour, but it appeared things were already in full swing.

The Festival of Good Tides; a yearly occurrence in Wintertide that was first established several years back after a truce had been called to end a three-year war between the kingdom and its neighbouring lands, Coral Crest. What was originally created as a way of boosting post war morale had become somewhat of a national holiday that the people looked forward to with great anticipation. Its popularity was also helped by the fact that the many activities and wares sold brought a large increase of income to the kingdom, something that many now relied on for the coming winter season, where food and warmth was a bit hard to come by without a bit of extra coin.

Though the festivities only lasted one day, the most was always made of it. Events and trading started at noon and extended into the evening until the sun had set and the stars had risen, from which point the king would make his appearance, give a speech and his blessing for the coming winter, and then the feast would begin. This grand dinner would go throughout the night and into the early morning, with more than enough food and alcohol to satisfy the masses provided by the castle.

Though it had only been a few years since the tradition had begun, its rise in popularity had been swift and widespread. People would come from all over the land just to partake in the joyous occasion, and get a piece of the financial opportunities that it offered. 

During this time, Inns would become so crowded that people even took the opportunity to rent out rooms in their own homes to travelers. It was even common for those intending to sell to camp out with their traveling carts and stalls in the surrounding woods during the week leading up to the festival, so common that there were designated areas marked and prepped for them nearly a month in advance. 

Gem never really got to enjoy the festival as the celebration that it was, preferring to act more as security so as to ensure that things didn’t get too out of hand, but it was still something that she looked forward to every year. It was one of many highlights that came from living in the capital. It reminded her of who she was here for, who she spent every day of her life training and fighting to protect.

It wasn’t too long ago that this land would have been rife with paranoia and poverty, the war having taken its toll on the people and the land itself. Gem basked in every second of the happiness that she could, while also remaining vigilant that nothing disturbed it. She would do anything to ensure that this time of peace lasted.

“I’m going to split off here,” Scott said, interrupting her thoughts. He jabbed his thumb over to the left of the path they were walking to indicate where he was going, “I think Jimmy’s stall is somewhere over there. I’m going to go see if I can haggle him out of some of the high-quality leather he sells before it is all snatched up. Assuming it hasn’t been already”

“Alright, we will see you at the feast.” Impulse said, giving him a rough pat on the shoulder as a farewell.

“Don’t forget to actually do your job while you’re at it.” Gem teased, punching him in the shoulder. She then motioned for two of the other knights to break off from the group to accompany Scott, and motioned for two others to go in the opposite direction, where she knew more knights were already patrolling. She didn’t want them too split up lest something happen and they need numbers, but it is never a bad idea to have eyes in more places.

“You know me, I’ve always got an eye out,” Scott replied.

“Give Jimmy and Tango my greetings” Gem cheerfully told him as he began to walk away, only to be met with a grimace thrown over his shoulder at her. She laughed at the expression. She knew that Scott’s relationship with his friend's partner was strained and awkward at best, and it was too much fun to tease him about it.

“I think I’m going to head over to my parents' cart. Would you like to come with me?” Impulse asked, looking around the crowded area to try and spot them over the masses.

“I think I am going to hang around the stage. A vast majority of fights always seem to break out in or around this area, so it is best I stay here for now.” Gem said, crossing her arms and scanning the crowd for anything, or anyone, that might be out of place.

“I know we’re here to keep an eye on things, but do try to have a little bit of fun, alright? This is, after all, a celebration!” Impulse insisted, gesturing towards the festivities with a broad sweep of his arms.

“I will do as I please. Give your mothers' my greetings, yes?” Gem asked, shooing him away and sending an extra knight after him with a gesture of her hand.

“Will do!” He gave her a two fingered salute before jogging away.

Gem would not lie and say she had not been tempted to go see Impulse’s parents with him. They were lovely people who adored her and always “snuck” handfuls of candy into the pockets of her dress when she wasn’t looking, but she had meant it when she said the city square and the stage were where 90% of the festival's problems broke out before the feast began, second only to the alcohol booths. Regardless of how rare issues actually were, though, she really would prefer to stay close so she can break up any altercations before they had a chance to escalate 

She did, however, make a pit stop over to one of the meat carts to buy her and the remaining knights with her a rabbit and potato skew from one of the stands a little ways away from the center of the festival. It was a divine bit of food, and she would be a fool to not get some before it was all sold out. The bread roll she had snagged from the kitchen had done little to satiate her hunger and it would be foolish to work on an empty stomach, she reasoned as she thumbed coins over to the vendor and was handed a couple of skewers in return for her payment. 

She distributed them among her remaining knights and then took a big bite out of the hearty meat as she led the way back towards the stage, just in time to catch the start of the next performance.

A stout young woman in a short sleeved, rose pink dress made her way up onto the stage with a bright smile on her face. A man followed behind her with a staff in his hand, and Gem grew giddy with excitement as she realized where this performance may be going. The man went down onto one knee and offered the woman the staff , which she accepted with a deep bow before he rushed off the stage.

She raised the staff, made of wood old and brittle with a glittering jewel entrapped in its spiraled tip, up towards the sky, and the crowd waited with bated breath. She whispered something under her breath, so quiet that it was sure not a soul in the crowd had heard her, but Gem watched her lips form the words, and she knew what was coming next.

For a moment nothing happened, and then light burst forth from the tip of the staff up into the sky in a coil of glittering gold. The strings of light rippled through the air before coming together to form the image of a bird big and grand, which spread its magneficent wings and flew over the crowd with a brilliant wooshing sound. The crowd screamed with delight and laughter as the bird let out a tremendous caw. It rose high into the sky before turning abruptly and diving straight for the stage floor. It exploded as it made contact with the ground, sending glittering shimmers of light, almost like millions of miniature stars, all across the wooden planks.

The crowd erupted into raucous cheers, which Gem joined in on, holding the now bare wooden skew in between her teeth in order to do so. The woman, her smiling face now red and shiny with sweat, bowed once more, holding her staff out to the side of her and placing a hand over her heart as she did so. She took a moment to wave to the crowd before rushing off stage to make way for the next performer. 

What a brilliant performance, Gem thought. Magic in this day and age was a rare sight to see, so even simple spells like that were enough to leave most in awe. 

Gem couldn’t even imagine what it had been like back in the day, when magic was rampant and widespread across the lands, when things like this were commonplace and about as impressive as someone tying their boots. Gem was well versed in what little there was to be known about magic, and it wasn’t a lot. There were very little records of that time long past, only a few books here, the odd fairytale there. There was barely even enough to tell the people of today that there was once a period of time where magic ruled the lands, and no one exactly knows what happened to it.

Now there were barely any folks left with any sort of magical inclination about them at all, and those who did had so little of it that they were barely able to do simple illusion spells like the one Gem just saw without being left utterly exhausted by their efforts. 

She watched several more performances after this, ranging from a man who juggled an armful of colourful balls, a woman who balanced herself on the tip of a tall, slim poll, a woman who sang a beautiful song accompanied by her husband’s lute, a man who did a magic trick involving balls of fire, and many more.

Hours had passed and the next performer was just about to come up onto the stage when Gem caught something out of the corner of her eye. A swish of red fabric that was all too familiar to her; one of the reasons she always preferred to stay on her toes. 

She inhaled sharply through her nose, sparks of anger already kindling in her chest as she whipped around to ensure it was who she thought it was, and without a doubt, it was him. There he was, standing there so close to the stage it would be no problem at all for him to climb upon it should he so wish to. He was eyeing the performer with an almost bored expression. Even with what little anonymity that stupid hood of his offered him, she would recognize him anywhere. 

She marched towards the person, her hand moving towards her sword despite knowing she could not, and would not, use it in such a crowded space. Not when so many innocent lives were at risk of getting caught in the crossfire.

His head turned in her direction, his inky black eyes lighting up with amusement as he spotted her, a smirk spread across his bird-like face. He turned away and took off into the crowd, and Gem gave chase without a second thought.

He weaved through the crowd faster and faster, seamlessly avoiding bumping into people as he moved in a way not too dissimilar to a snake in the grass. She shouldered past people, yelling quick apologies to those who shouted in protest as she tried to keep up with the smaller man, his distinctive red cloak being the only thing that allowed her to keep sight of him through the tightly packed crowd.

He led her all the way towards the bustling merchant’s area. This part of the festival was full of richly coloured fabrics that were folded neatly along the surface of the carts that sold them, and there was a large variety of rare clothing article, which hung from racks in tidy rows on either side of her, easy to knock down and cause a fuss should she not move carefully. The air was thick with perfumes and the smell of dye, the scent thick and almost overpowering to her hard-working lungs as she ran through the area with delicate movements. He threw her a devious smile over his shoulder as he ducked under a rack of brightly coloured scarves, which she darted around, knowing she would not make it under. 

She wasn’t a fool, she knew this was a game to him, and she wasn’t going to let him keep playing it.

The crowd was beginning to thin the further they got away from bustling city square, giving her the opportunity to increase her speed at last. Her armor rattled as she pushed herself to catch up to the nimble man, her blood rushing through her ears and her heart racing loudly. He attempted to duck into an alleyway, but she followed after before he could escape, turning sharply on her heels. She grabbed the back of his cloak, pulling him backwards and his hood down.

She ducked as a set of razor sharp talons ripped towards her face, messy pieces of her hair whipping past her field of vision as she grabbed the man’s wrist, bringing her palm up swiftly into his gut. He gasped as the air was knocked out of his small body. She took the opportunity to swing around into a kick, and her boot would have connected with his neck had he not raised his arms into a protective position in order to block the blow in the last moment. It was still enough to send him to the ground, however, and he hit the cobble with a bounce that sent him rolling.

He used the momentum to flip himself up into a crouching position, blood running down his chin from where he had presumably bit his tongue. His expression was still somewhat playful, but now had a much more serious glint to it. He kept his talons at the ready to counter Gem’s next attack, his body tense with anticipation. His sharp eyes were taunting her, waiting for her to make the next move as he always did.

“Grian.” She said, her hand on the hilt of her sword, ready to draw it at any moment.

“Commander” He said in turn, tilting his head unnaturally to the side, much like the owl he shared his attributes with.

“What are you doing here?” She asked, looking down her nose at him, her thumb inching her sword out of the sheath.

“Is it a crime to enjoy a national holiday like every other citizen in the kingdom?” He questioned in an almost teasing manner.

“Enough of your games! It is no mere coincidence that you would show up today of all days after months of silence.” Gem snapped, her shoulders rising in turn with the bubbling anger in her heart.

Grian, a slippery, troublemaking avian that she had been butting heads with on a near regular basis ever since she was a bright eyed squire fresh off of the snowy mountain she called home, eager to prove herself in her search for glory.  

He had made his entrance into her life in a flashy and grand fashion that was bound to leave an impression on just about anyone; an explosion in the castle's courtyard. It had been small, only enough to take out a tiny portion of the wall. It had been so clearly a distraction, but after years of war, it had been enough to cause a panic that only Gem had been levelheaded enough to power her way through. It was her quick wit that allowed her to act swiftly in the face of potential danger, and her friendly and outgoing personality that let her realize she’d never seen his face around the castle before and clock that he was an intruder. She’d taken him down before he was able to do whatever it was that he was planning to do inside of the castle, but he’d still managed to escape in the end.

Along with an increase in security and guards stationed on the outer walls, the royal army gained another knight that day. Ironic that it would be the man who would come to torment her any chance he could in the near future that would see to it that she was promoted early in her career.

They met many times after that first initial encounter, and with each one it only became obvious that his goal from the very beginning was to tear down the Wintertide royal bloodline at any cost and destroy the peace she tried so hard to protect. 

He sought to create chaos and disorder within the kingdom, and he would stop at nothing to see these goals met. It was only natural that they would become rivals, enemies that would be at constant odds with each other until the end of all things. Time and time again he would make his move against the royal family, and she was always there to put an end to it. It was an endless dance that they seemed to be trapped in indefinitely, for better or for worse.

As the years passed, he shifted his focus from the castle and the king to something else, something more attainable. He would commonly be found in the streets, yelling about injustices to anyone who would give him an ear. 

At first, no one would pay him any mind, and he would always make a break for it the second Gem showed up to put a stop to his public disturbances. Over time, however, as taxes were raised to cover the costs of damages done to the land and economy by the war, and tensions between their neighbouring kingdom rose yet again, his ideals slowly but surely gained more and more popularity. People were moved by his cause, rallied by a hatred for a monarchy they felt provided them very little protection or surety in their time of unrest. 

Suddenly he wasn’t a single person acting alone anymore; he was the leader of a group they had no way of knowing the scope of. 

They had tried to take him and his mysterious resistance down for years now, but by some feat of the gods they had managed to avoid detection, as well as capture, the entire time. Even now, it is unknown just how large his resistance is, or the names of those who operate within it, making it difficult to do anything in opposition to the group. They had only a few names for certain they could connect to him, but they have all been as untraceable as he. Every tip and clue that came Gem's way only led to empty houses and cellars with nothing but clearly fake plans and documents within them that led her and her men right back to where they had started; with nothing at all. 

All of this to say that he and his group are dangerous, effective people who should not be taken lightly, and his presence at The Festival of Good Tides bore nothing but ill tidings. 

The avian sighed in an overly dramatic, fake manner, no doubt playing it up to get a rise out of her. She was ashamed to admit that it worked.

“Fine, I suppose there is no point in hiding it from you,” He said, his face once again breaking into a wide smile, “I was looking for you, actually. I knew if I showed up to the festival you would find me within seconds and pursue me until you had me in your grasp.”

“And, why, in god's name, were you seeking to put yourself right into my hands? A bit of a foolish thing to do, if you ask me. You know as well as I do that you are no match for me, birdy.” She taunted. 

She swiftly pulled her sword from its sheath and put the tip of the blade to his unprotected neck. It was just long enough for her to close the distance between them without having to take so much as a step closer. His expression remained unbothered and playful, despite the obvious threats to his life.

“I wanted to give you a fair warning,” He replied cryptically.

“What in the hells does that mean?” She questioned, hackles once again rising.

“Something big is coming, Gem.” He answered. His eyes were wide and excited, almost manic even, as he said this. She had never seen him like this before in all her years knowing him.

“Something big? What in the blazes are you on about?” She asked, unease settling in her stomach like a heavy stone at the words

“You would do well to prepare yourself while you still can.” He said instead of giving her a real answer, “For all of our back and forth, I do not hate you. It would sure be a shame if something were to happen to you that could have been avoided.”

“Your mad rambles make little sense. Explain yourself before I have your head!” She threatened, pushing the tip of the sword against his throat further.

“I’m afraid I can’t tell you anymore than I already have, but you’ll find out in due time, believe in that. The end might be closer than you think.” He said, and her eyes widened, her mouth dropping open. 

He took advantage of her brief shock to sweep his leg out faster than she could react. The hard, scaly part of his taloned foot grabbed a hold of her sword’s blade and wrenched the weapon out of her hands, sending it to the ground with a metallic clatter. She shouted in alarm and leaped towards the fallen sword in an attempt to regain control of the situation, but before she could even get close, Grian pulled a bottle out from somewhere within his cloak and smashed it against the ground at her feet.

There was a flash and a popping noise following the shattering of the glass, and thick smoke billowed out around them, obscuring her vision and filling her nose with the overbearing smell of sulfur. Her eyes burned, watering fiercely as she coughed, trying to clear her lungs of the smoke.

She waved the air in front of her, looking around frantically for the avian but seeing not a single sign of him. There wasn’t so much as a feather on the ground, nor where there any footprints in the grime showing where he’d taken off to. All there was in the now vacant cobble alley was her sword, flat against the ground where it had fallen. 

“Gem!” She heard someone call out to her from behind.

She turned to find Impulse rushing towards her. He looked frantic, out of breath. A few other soldiers trailed behind him, visibly on edge as they looked around the smokey alley. Her old friend hurried to her side, grabbing her face and brushing a strand of hair out of her eyes as he turned her side to side to check for injuries. 

She pulled away from him, wordlessly moving over to her abandoned sword and picking it up from the ground. She examined the blade before turning her eyes up to the sky, where the smoke was still spiraling up towards the clear blue expanse. 

“The men that were stationed with you came to me in a frenzy and said you took off in a rush. They said may be in need of some help, and the thought of you of all people needing help against something on its own is a frightening, so I came as soon as I could.” Impulse said from behind her. “What happened?

“It was Grian.” She said, turning towards him. Then, as an afterthought, she tacked on, “And I didn’t need any help. You know me.”

“It hardly matters to me how strong you are, I will always worry for you regardless. It is in my nature.” He said with a smile, which dropped into a more serious look, “But, Grian, you say? Has he not been off the radar for months now? What’s he doing back in the capital on today of all day? Surely he is up to no good.”

She sheathed her sword, taking a moment to wonder if she should share the cryptid warning that the avian had given her. Her eyes flickered over to the nervous knights standing behind her friend. They were clearly new, fresh out of being squires if she had to take a guess. It was highly probable that they would panic upon hearing information such as this. Besides, anything pertaining to Grian and his resistance was more classified than what she was willing to share with just anyone. She would prefer to inform the king of the news, as well, and it was almost nightfall anyway so his arrival to the festival site was fast approaching. It was best she not have to repeat herself when handling such delicate information. You never know who may be listening.

“I think it would be wiser if I don’t share that with so many ears around. This is information better shared to a smaller group.” She informed him. He glanced back at the soldiers behind him and nodded in understanding.

“Let us return to the festival, this time with eyes and ears more focused.” She said, "If he shows his face again, he will not be getting away so easily a second time."

She turned on her heels and deftly made her way back towards the crowded square, the others following after all. She held her head high, posture straight and professional, but underneath the facade was a twisting feeling of unease that she couldn’t get rid of, and which threatened to force her lunch to make a second appearance. 

Her mind was racing, her chest was tight. What could her longtime rival have meant with that threat? No, that had been more of a promise than it had been a threat. But a promise of what, she didn’t know, and that is what scared her. Whatever it was that he had in store for the kingdom of Wintertide, he was so incredibly certain of its success that he was willing to seek her out to personally tell her of its existence. 

Either he was a fool, or there was something to truly worry about afoot, and something told her it was the latter since she had never known Grian to be a stupid man.

In fact he was quite the dangerous person. 

A harmless person could not gain the following and influence that he had over people in such a short time as he had. Even when the people above her had thought of him as little more than a fly buzzing in their ear, she had always taken every move he made seriously. She would be a fool herself not to treat him as the treat he really was. 

If anything, she was surprised it had taken so long for him to make his move. With the reach and numbers he seemed to have within the capital it was a wonder something “big” had yet to happen. Why now of all times? What was his game?

She looked over her shoulder at the abandoned alley one last time, her expression hardening into a determined glare. Even with her worry, she knew one thing for certain; whatever it may be that he was planning, she would put an end to it. 

He would not succeed. 

                                                ❀     ❀     ❀

“Was it necessary to toy with her like that?” His hooded companion asked from beside him, tone high and amused.

Grian stood upon the roof, the smoke bomb having given him just enough time to escape out of view. His cloak fluttered in the wind behind him and his hands clenched into fists, his sharp nails digging into his palms. His expression was blank, his black eyes watching as the commander of the royal army grew smaller the further she got from them. She’d almost seen him when she glanced back. Almost, but not quiet. 

“Not that I am complaining,” His companion pushed further upon not receiving a response, “It is rather funny, I must admit.”

“I am not toying with her,” He stated, not daring to take his eyes off of the commander until she was well out of view, “It was a real warning.”

“Even worse,” Was the reply, which was then followed by a laugh, “Now she’ll be wary, more prepared than she would have had you said nothing at all. I have to agree with the Commander on this one, Grian, this seems an odd move to make so early into the plan. After all of the work we put into this, it seems entirely counterproductive. Are you not worried she could put an end to this all before it has even begun?”

“Let her try and interfere,” He said, a smile spreading across his face as the wind picked up speed, “There will be no stopping what is to come.”

[illiana-mystery]

Chapter 4 is up! In this chapter, Jopling attends the art auction by Mademoiselle Zébrowska's side. While there, he meets a couple of eccentric characters that attend every annual auction including the auctioneer, Navid Saville and the sassy Dutch socialite, Lady Portia Van Oostren. Later, Jopling and Irina go back to his place and hook up. 

Stay tuned for Chapter 5 when Mademoiselle Zébrowska takes Jopling to the orphanage she grew up in. They go to hand over the charitable donation to the director of the orphanage, Joaquin Descartes. While there, Jopling also meets the orphanage cat, Ophelia and a little Serbian girl named Jelena that Mademoiselle befriended. 

Taglist: @imwithyoutiltheendofthelinebucky, @eclecticwildflowers​, @emilynightshade89​, @ghnaim24​

[ejunkiet]

60% of writing is daydreaming, 30% is editing, and 10% is getting words on the damn page omg

[mintcarus]

This is just a reference for my fic- But here’s Luigi and Bowser’s formal wear because they were kinda hard to describe in writing.

Fun fact! Luigi’s outfit originally looked way different but there were so many complications with it so now it looks like that.

[feralshadowdemon]

for @skkbigbang-2023 with amazing art by jaylys !!

Chuuya looks up at the sky, a crack of thunder ripples through the air as a strike of lightning slams itself onto the earth. “The lightning sounds like more of a call than anything. Like a plea for me to return to the sky.” “Well,” Dazai stares at Chuuya's wings. “Tell the skies I'm not giving them their angel back after they themselves struck you.” “So poetic,” Chuuya snorts. “...I think I like being earthbound more, anyway.” ✦ yokohama feels like it never has storms, yet; dazai catches chuuya at fifteen during one.

[nico-di-genova]

Keep to the Line

Chapter 5

There is a span of twenty minutes on the plane, when Charles is feeling the nausea roll through him with increasing intensity, where he thinks about quitting. He runs a finger along the edge of his phone, swallows down bile, and strongly considers texting GP his resignation. It, of course, would not send until he was firmly back on the ground in France, but he considers it, nonetheless. Better to cut ties now before Red Bull cuts him loose of their own accord in Jeddah.

Then the twenty minutes passes, the nausea wins out, and Charles is rushing down the aisle to vomit in a cramped airplane bathroom with sweat breaking out on his brow and his palms going clammy. He wonders if Arthur is feeling the same way, knows Lorenzo is probably judging both of them. He supposes it’s better that his hangover didn’t settle in until after the debrief. It would have been worse if he’d gone to speak during the meeting and hurled all over GP’s shoes.

The liquor burns coming back up, more stomach acid than anything, and the handful of peanuts he’d grabbed from the club at last call.

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