#does this count as web weaving? maybe not

[henrysglock]

stories that gut me tbh

#he wouldn’t have deserved any of it even if his surface story had been the truth #hot take: he shouldn’t *have* to be proven as a sweetheart for people to go ‘get he shouldn’t have been kidnapped and #used as breeding stock in the CIA’s child torture basement’. #*hey (not get) #just because y’all couldn’t have compassion back when you thought he was a monster doesn’t mean i couldn’t. skill issue. #does this count as web weaving? maybe not #henry creel #st: tfs #my meme

[icarus-died-laughing]

still thinking about my dream + positive male role models, no matter how brief they may have been in my life...

ty for showing me that there are healthy ways to be vulnerable and open with your emotions.

ty for showing me anger doesn't have to hurt or scare other people (but it can).

ty for showing me there are ways to laugh through the pain without pushing it away.

ty for showing me its okay to cry.

ty for showing me you don't have to get blackout drunk to have fun.

ty for showing me there isnt a right way to express masculinity.

ty for showing me you don't have to be mean to banter with your friends.

ty for showing me its okay stand up for yourself.

ty for showing me everyone has bad days.

ty for showing me you can always make a better decision after a bad one.

ty for caring about me.

ty for looking out for me.

thank you for being there for me, even for just a little bit. i hope i dont forget what you taught me.

#does this count as free verse? #maybe so #poetry #queer poetry #trans poetry #free verse poetry #free verse #web weaving

[catboygretzky]

Exyblr Dashboard Simulator based on what I personally see on sportsblr:

1/?

👑 girlbossriko follow

how many bro jobs do you think it took before riko moriyama and kevin day realized that uh.....maybe this wasn't just a bro thing

👢exyinaphonebooth follow

how many times do they have to come out and say they're like brothers before you freakos stop shipping them

👑 girlbossriko follow

????? do i know u

#it's a tumblr post about two exy players that you'lll never meet in your life it really isn't that deep

558 notes

💃fox-me-up follow

ngl that newest fox is kinda 👀

#psu lb #exy lb

8 notes

👨🏻‍❤️‍💋‍👨🏻 talk-exy-to-me

The NARRATIVE that kevin day and neil josten have........son of exy! scouting the rookie-est of rookies from fuck knows arizona........no listen you dont GET IT winning is EVERYTHING TO KEVIN and he would risk it on the foxes? And NEIL? who has only played exy for a year! NEIL Gets his attention!!!!! And hes good and he's getting better every game and he keeps bitching about kevin's ex on live tv BUT WAIT!???? NOT QUITE WHAT YOU EXPECT! Bc then neil shows up with a number on his cheek BECAUSE WELL it turns out they've known each other since they were KIDS! how is everyone not insane w me THEY'RE LITERALLY PERFECT

#where r my fellow njkd truthers #how r u all not here with me this isnt even the start #kevneil #210 #psu #njkd

102 notes

☀️ usctrojanny

every smiley blonde striker (jeremy knox) needs a brunette wet cat emotional support backliner (jean moreau)

#jerejean #usc trojans #i'm just saying 🤷‍♀️

58 notes

👸🏻 kevindazed follow

did he just......

👸🏻 kevindazed follow

guys please tell me i'm not insane

👸🏻 kevindazed follow

HE'S NEVER BEEN????? SKIIING???? KEVIN WHAT DOES THAT MEAN ?????? KEVIN PLEASE

#i i'm going insane i will literally die if someone doesn't explain this to me HE'S NEVER BEEN SKIING?!!!!

407 notes

🧚 goalie-stan

oh....i'm feeling so weak......it'd sure be nice to have a big strong goalie (renee walker) hold me up (renee if you're free on tuesday i am also free on tuesday.........on tuesday this tuesday, any tuesday?)

#literally passing out just thinking about her holding me don't call don't text i'm busy

84 notes

🌄 softkevinday follow

do u think if u offered kevin day essential oils to heal his hand he'd beat you to death

#it'd be hard for him bc he only has one hand but he could probably do it #legally this is a joke don't do this

284 notes

🗣️ jeremyknoxes follow

feeling normal

215 notes

📜 realexyblog

actually exy rpf is fine, i asked kayleigh day herself and she told me it was fine

112 notes

🐋 sexyexy

'exy is a stupid name for a sport' have you considered that a) i don't care and b) it's named that solely so i can make sex jokes about it

11 notes

🏳️‍🌈 gay4stickball follow

is he, ya know *mimes jerking off* an ncaa exy player

#i don't believe that straight exy players exist

56 notes

🙈 ittybittyminny follow

Andrew Minyard!!!!!!! 🥰🥰 short king!!!!🤏🤏😋😋 Awwwwwwww the scrunkly!!!!! 🤗🤗🤗 My boinky boy!!!!!🥺🥺 Crinkly doo,,,,shronkle scrimblo......🥺🥺🥺 rb if you'd scrunkle!!!!!!! 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

📖 sapphic-exy follow

he literally killed someone

🙈 ittybittyminny follow

And? God forbid women do anything

#also no proof he did that #yeah there's proof his twin bro killed someone but that's not the same bc theyre different people #almost killing someone doesnt count

807 notes

🐦‍�� edgarallenexy

got told i'm problematic for liking the ravens? THAT'S LITERALLY MY SCHOOL OH MY GOD

2 notes

🌸 softexy

Kevin Day - A Study

#kevin day #psu foxes #palmetto foxes #exy #web weave #poetry #psu foxes #palmetto #edgar allen

378 notes

#i'm not taking criticism bc i am on sportsblr and this is literally what it's like #all for the game #neil josten #kevin day #andrew minyard #renee walker #jeremy knox #jean moreau #aftg #the foxhole court #jerejean #kevneil #the web weave is the most accurate part of this post #exyblr #riko moriyama

[written-in-flowers]

The Drifter: The Weaved Web (1.01)

Pairing: Chan x Demon!fem!Reader (future)

Genre: adventure, fantasy, romance, fluff

AU: western!au, fantasy!au, bounty hunter!au,

Word Count: 20k

Overall Summary: A demonic bounty hunter drifts into the sleepy seaside town of Levanter Bay, and there is where she finally finds a real home.

Tags: western!au, demon!reader, fantasy!au, high fantasy, kidnapping, child kidnapping, demon summoning, mentions of death, mentions of trauma/PTSD, arachnophobia, descriptions of violence,

Disclaimer: These works are completely fictious and for entertainment purposes only. They are not meant to reflect or label the members of Stray Kids. The events within never took place.

Please do not repost/translate!

****

Episode 1: Sacrifices.

Episode Summary: A rash of child kidnappings has unsettled the quaint town of Levanter Bay, Sheriff Bahng and his deputies are at a loss until a strange demon comes riding into town.

***

‘Welcome to Levanter Bay, The Sunny Side.”

Levanter Bay appeared anything but sunny. An overcast sky blocked any sunlight that might’ve shone on the open bay. The water washing up on the docks appeared gray and dark, small waves lapping at the wooden stilts holding up the port. From the top of the hill, the small town resembled a semi-circle of small buildings leading out to the docks far off. It did not seem any different than any other country town, and after a week of riding and camping, a warm bed and a hot meal sounded good. Giving gentle kicks to Summer's sides, the black mare started to walk down from the hills. 

“What do you think, girl?” You asked your mount with a soft pat. “How does a warm night in a stable of hay sound?” When Summer huffed, you said, “I know we're low on money. With a bit of luck, this place will have a bounty board and we can get some coin. It'll all work out, I promise.” 

Summer gave another snort, and you furrowed your brow. “Don't be bitter. That thing with the snakes turned out okay in the end. We got the reptile guy's amulet and returned it to the villagers. Everything was fine like all the other times. Whatever job we find next will be just as easy, and we can end the day with a good pint of ale and some hay….” You then scratched her neck, “And maybe an apple? A sugarcube?”

You smiled when Summer whinnied softly. Reaching the bottom of the hill, you saw the quiet town up ahead of the dirt road. People riding their own horses and driving wagons passed you on their way into town, likely on their way to the ships at the end of the main road. You considered taking one of them when you finish up business in town. The destination itself never mattered to you. Each location offered up more chances at new experiences and new lessons. The Shadowlands provided nothing but melancholy and pain. The mortal world teemed with life, and you wanted to feel it all. 

Once you entered town, you saw the scope of the townspeople. People of all races, human and magic, lived side by side in harmony. You spotted a werewolf in human form, his ears and nose a dead giveaway, talking to an elderly man through a post office window. Out of the local bank came a blond man, counting bills before sticking them in his bill fold. Two women, one a feline werecat and the other a reptilian walked together to a market stall run by a young human. Back home, the only people around were other demons like yourself. Those who passed through The Mar already departed the mortal realm, therefore could not be considered “alive”. They’d been shadows who could do nothing but wail in their misery. You made eye contact with a skinny elf walking out of a barbershop, and grinned.

“Morning, sir,” you nodded at him as you rode past. 

Townspeople in such a tight knit community tended to eye strangers closely, but they appeared extra suspicious of you. A young mother walking past with her children spotted you, and held them closer to her sides, rushing away from you. It's your horn stumps, no doubt. No amount of hair or hats could hide the two stumps on the front of your head. The first tell-tale sign of a demon was their horns, their markings being the second. You covered yours with your jacket and gloves, but if anyone did see them, they'd see the ancient fire runes inked onto your shoulders and wrists in adolescence. It’d been your markings that drew Him to you in the first place. 

‘Children of the flames are mighty and strong. I can make you stronger.’ 

Summer gruffed when a reptilian woman crossed her path, but you calmed her down immediately. Clearly, your dreadsteed hadn't gotten over her last encounter with reptiles. You apologized to the woman, then asked:

“Excuse me, can you tell me where your inn or hotel is around here?”

“In the market square,” she said a tad affronted, closing her coat over her chest with folded arms. “The White Pearl, is the name. Ask for Changbin, he'll get you a room, Miss.”

“Thank you, and sorry again about my horse,” you patted Summer's neck, “She's…skittish.”

The woman gave a contemptuous huff, then walked away. Riding into the large town square, you pass vendors selling their wares until you find an inn nestled into a corner. You guessed it by the hanging sign that read “The White Pearl” with an open clam shell underneath. Through saloon doors and large windows, you saw patrons already enjoying a drink and a meal inside. The thought of a hot breakfast crossed your mind, and your stomach growled. Dismounting Summer, you tied her up to a pole next to other horses, and walked inside. 

Nobody noticed you walk in, since everyone appeared focused on their own conversations. Good. You didn't want anyone seeing you. Crowded places tended to have too many eyes, and too many eyes also meant too many mouths. You've run out of enough taverns to know to keep a low profile until you've taken a good look around. 

‘Mortals are weak and simple. They are meant to be beneath our feet.’ 

“Howdy there,” a voice caught your attention.

He stood behind the bar cleaning pint glasses. Seeing his muscled arms and short stature, you guessed a dwarf but he appeared a bit too tall. A forest dwarf, then. He wore a flannel shirt rolled up his forearms and a white apron around his waist. You gave a small smile and head nod as you approached. 

“Welcome to The White Pearl,” he glanced up at your horn stumps, but did not linger long, “What can I get you? We have our daily lunch special, a hot sandwich with a drink of choice.”

It sounded good, but your light purse felt heavier than ever. “I'll take a bit of water for now, thanks.”

The innkeep went to work pouring water into a glass. “Just passing through, ma'am?”

“For the moment,” you answered, taking a drink from the cold mug. “I was wondering if your sheriff’s office had a bounty board? My horse and I  came from Newport a few miles west, and we've gotten cleaned out since then.”

“A bounty hunter, hm?” The man nodded, taking you in for a moment. “Yeah, Chan has a hero's board outside the station. You won't find anything that pays well there though.”

“Poor town? I thought with the port nearby you'd be off better than some other places.”

“You'd think that right?” He noted, “But since our docks were invaded by pirates a few months ago, our mayor has been working on rebuilding it. You'll be doing quite a few jobs I expe-Hey, you!” He snapped from his friendly tone to a harsh one. You looked to see a child walking secretly out of the tavern, guilt on his face. “What did I tell you about pickpocketing, Eunwoo? Come here, empty them out.”

The young moon elf, detected by his high pointed ears and soft lavender skin, came over to the bar. From his pockets he withdrew a leather bill fold, two gold coins, a single dice and a silver spoon. 

“A spoon?” The innkeep questioned, lifting the utensil. “Eunwoo, who could you have sold the spoon to?”

“People always need spoons, Changbin,” the boy shrugged. “There can be somebody eating soup and not have a spoon.”

“I've told you before,” Changbin slid the contents into a wooden box behind the counter, “If you're hungry, I'll give you a free plate and a drink. You don't have to steal.” 

“Sorry, Changbin,” he pouted apologetically. 

“Now, go on into the kitchen and tell Wooyoung to give you a lunch plate. You can feed Honey too, if you want.” 

The elf child smiled brightly, then rushed through a door behind the bar. He turned back to you, “Seo Changbin, I own this place. You are?”

“YN,” you answered, “Just YN.”

“You're a demon? I thought demons had strange names? I met one during the war named Tarhez.”

You giggled, taking a drink, “I changed it when I decided to live in the mortal world.”

“Oh yeah? What is it?”

“Multak,” you said, your true name sounding rough and deep. You laughed at his stunned expression, “Told you it's hard on mortal ears. In my language it means ‘shield of fire’.”

“Interesting,” he replied sincerely. “If you couldn't tell from the patrons eyeballing you right now, we don't get many demons around here.”

“Not many of us decided to stay when the war ended.” 

You almost could not go home when the war against Nor'goth ended. The evil, primordial demon lord escaped from your realm into the mortal one, claiming that all humankind deserved punishment and enslavement. While most demons joined him, a fair few of you went against him. The Blind One, Sakmarth, led a force to defeat Nor'goth once and for all. You might have not known mortals at the time, but you knew nobody deserved enslavement. It simply went against your code. The image of the mighty, dark demon sent a sickly chill over your body. Glowing orange eyes that saw into your soul and tentacles that tore down several men at a time came to the forefront. He’d been monstrous. Even now, so many years later, you still heard his guttural voice in your head. 

‘You are mighty, shield of fire. Join me, and together we can bring this world to its knees.’ 

You’d told him ‘no’ before sending him back into the abyss. 

“What about you? If I'm correct, you're a dwarf, no?”

“Woodland Dwarf,” he smiled, “And proud of it. I came down from the Blue Mountains far west, with nothing but a dream, my axe, and my bear.”

“Bear?” Your eyes widened. 

“Yeah, my bear Honey. She's right there,” he nodded over to an open window where you saw a massive grizzly bear walk past. “I've had her since she was a cub. She's dangerous and looks like it, but if you give her some food and a head scratch, she’ll love you until the day you die.”

“Like my Summer,” you pointed out your own horse outside, “She's a dreadsteed. That's like a demon horse to mortals.”

“A dreadsteed? I think I saw those on the battlefield. Some demons I knew had them.”

“They're faster than lightning, stronger than oxes, and make good war horses,” you added. “She's gotten me out of a few jams in the past. I bet your Honey did the same.”

“She did. I took her into battle myself…Seems we both have war stories to tell,” he drawled, gazing over you again. “Listen, if you want a good paying gig, Sheriff Bahng always has open bounties in the station documents. If he thinks you're up to snuff, he'll pass on something to you. He should be there now.”

You finished your water, then nodded appreciatively. “Thanks, I'll go check out the board, then I can come back for that special.” 

He gave you a nod, and you left the inn. Summer shifted her feet when you untied her. “The place seems alright,” you told her. “They got a pet bear, but I'm sure it's not in the stables.”

Changbin said you’d find a listing outside the sheriff’s office. Feeling your light coin purse and hearing your rumbling stomach again, you knew you’d need to find a job soon. Walking through the busy market square towards the sheriff’s station, you spotted the wooden bulletin board covered in different colored papers. Reading some of them, you realized most involved hunting down excess wildlife in the forests beyond the town, finding lost items or relatives, or helping settle disputes. Nothing particular stuck out to you, but mindless work was better than no work at all.

“What do you think, Summer?” you turned to the black horse you’d guided by the reins to the board. “Want to go hunt down some feral boars with me?” The black stead huffed and shook her long black mane, almost as if declining the offer. You chuckled, “Alright, that’s a no.” You looked at the board again, “Well, we gotta pick something. I might be demonkin and you might be a dreadsteed, but we have to eat too.” 

You continued looking for a proper posting when someone came out of the office. He wore a beige button down and denim jeans with black boots. The badge on his breast glinted in the morning light, the word ‘sheriff’ across the top with the town sigil on it. Black curls kept back from his face, even with his big nose he was handsome. At least, other women might think so. You turned to him right as he stretched and basked in the warm sun. 

“Excuse me, Sheriff?” 

“Oh, good morning,” he smiled, noticing you standing there, “I've never seen your face around here before. You're new in town?”

“Just stopping here,” you explained. “I was checking out your listings board.”

He sized you up for a moment. You caught him looking over your black jacket, plain shirt and boots, getting a sense of you before his eyes landed on the crown of your head. Your horns were the price you paid to live amongst humans. His eyes stayed on them a moment, then he looked back at your face. 

“What’s a demonkin doing so far from home?” he asked curiously. 

The usage of your peoples’ true name surprised you. “Living.”

“Clearly, you’re not keen on doing it for long if you’re looking at our board,” he said, almost amused. “Do you have a speciality?”

“Warlock,” you answered, “Sort of goes hand-in-hand with my kind.”

He nodded again, “How long have you been drifting?”

“Since the war ended.”

“You fought?”

“Yes, sir. I fought with the Mortal Armies.” 

“Against your own people?”

“Not all of us see other races as beneath us. I like to think of myself as one of the good ones. Now,” you stepped closer, “Does your office have any private work or do I help Mrs. Young with her feral boars? The innkeep at the White Pearl said you might.”

The sheriff gave you another once over, then said, “Tie your horse up there and come in. I think I have something up your alley.”

You tied Summer to a post outside the door, and followed the sheriff inside. “I’m Chan, by the way,” he introduced himself in the main hall, offering his hand. 

“YN,” you replied, shaking it firmly. 

“A demonkin named YN,” he mused, “Never thought I'd see one of your type around here.”

You looked around the small office to see two other men already in the room. One of them was short with cheeks expanded by the donut he’d stuffed into his mouth. By the long fluffy tail sticking from behind the chair and his black nose, you saw the squirrel hybrid immediately. The man jotting down notes in a book had two slits in his shirt that revealed the dark purple wings close to his body. When he looked up at you, his eyes matched his wings. A shadow fairy. The squirrel hybrid only nodded, but the dark fae sat stock still. You registered the stunned expression and realized he recognized you. Not many mortals knew you by sight, mostly by name and your demon name at that. 

“YN, these are my deputies: Han Jisung and Lee Minho,” he pointed to the hybrid first, then the fae, “Boys, this is YN. She’s come looking for work. I thought she could help us with the Hook Clan.”

Both men also sized you up like their sheriff. Han spoke up first, “Speciality?”

“Warlock,” you answered again. To prove it, you flicked your wrist to make the donut in his hand disappear and reappear. “That’s nothing compared to what I can really do.”

“Hm,” Han stuffed the other half into his mouth before you could do it again. 

“As I live and breathe…” Minho said softly, “Multak.”

“You know her, Minho?” Jisung questioned in surprise. 

“Have we met before, sir?” you asked him next. 

“Not personally,” he answered, “But every shadow fairy who was at the Battle of Incheon knows the fire demon Multak.”

Incheon, home of the dark fae race. You recalled it fondly: tall dark trees with their canopies of leaves hiding the light-sensitive species, and wooden houses sitting on stilts or floating on boats throughout the wide rivers and lakes. Shadow fae came in all shapes and sizes, but they proved to be fierce and formidable allies. Nor’goth’s forces kidnapped and drained the fairies of their powers to weaken them, even breaking their bodies to do it. Your heart had gone out to the wisps, the smallest and most gentle of them all. All they do is tell fortunes and guide people to their fates. 

“Wait…” Chan stood still, examining you once again, “You’re the fire demon?”

“I’m a fire demon,” you said, not wanting to go into the differences between the demon clans in The Mar. 

“She stopped Nor’goth almost single handedly-”

“-Almost-” you emphasized, “It was a group effort.” 

If the Orcs had not distracted his people with their fiery catapults and if the elves had not shielded you, you wouldn’t have been able to strike. Your sword, a runic blade of fire, struck Nor’goth right in his heart. 

“I don’t know,” Minho said in a sing-song tone, “It was your flaming sword that vanquished him in the first place.”

“You have a flaming sword?” Jisung’s eyes widened with wonder. 

“It’s a runic blade,” you turned to Chan, “So, who is this Hook Clan?”

Minho sensed the change in subject, but you knew he wasn’t done. Nor’goth and the war are the last things you wished to discuss in detail. You did not agree with the Shadow Lords about Nor’goth’s sentence; banishing him to the underworld prison, The Abyss, will not hold him forever. You didn't care how weak they'd made him. 

“They’re outlaws at the edge of town,” Chan answered, going over to a desk where he kept a stack of folders. He brought it over to you, withdrawing reports and documents for you to see. “They started off with stealing cattle or crops from the farmers, but they’ve escalated in recent weeks.”

“Escalated how?”

You noticed the three men appeared apprehensive, a tension starting to stiffen between them.

“They started kidnapping children,” said Minho. “The last kidnapping was Wang's little girl, Hyeyoung. Before that was Seo Dobin, and before that was Lee Sanghee. The only connections we’ve been able to make,” he flipped through his notebook and found a page. He walked over to you and showed you the page, “All three were between eight and ten, taken from farmlands, and in broad daylight. We don’t know where they are, why the clan is taking them, or what they plan to do with them.”

“What makes you think it was them?”

“The clan always paints a red hook somewhere when they’ve struck. It’s been found at each scene.”

“That’d be foolish of them to do,” you noted, reading more of his notes. “That’s basically telling you that it was them.” 

“They’re not the brightest bunch, if I’m being honest,” Minho replied. 

“Which means they’re least likely to have done it,” Chan told him. “Kidnappings like this require a thought process and planning. The Hooks have always operated loosely: pick a target, slaughter anyone who gets in the way, and take what they want. If they are kidnapping these children, they would’ve slipped up at some point.” 

“They could be hired by somebody else,” Han chimed in from his desk. “Red Hook will work for whoever pays him enough. If they’re taking kids, it’s likely someone is paying them to do it.”

“Then who?” Chan looked over to ask him. 

One person came to mind, but you’d sound foolish. Nor’goth is currently imprisoned in the Abyss, an island floating in a dark void, powerless and useless to anyone. You read Chan’s reports and cross-checked them with Minho’s notes. You hated to think it, but some dark warlocks and shadow magic practitioners use children in their rituals. Just because a ritual lists ‘innocent blood’ or ‘innocent souls’ does not mean the caster needed a child. Even demonkin preferred using animals over defenseless children. 

“-I think it’s just too easy to scapegoat a group because of their reputation,” Chan’s voice caught your ear. “I want to catch Red Hook and his band of outlaws, but I want to arrest them for crimes they actually committed.”

“His mark’s has been found at each scene-”

The outlaws must be hired to help. They reminded you of a band of thieves back in the capital city who were stealing resources from a nearby mine. It turned out they stole them for greedy goblins. 

“Do you know anything about this clan aside from their crimes?” you interrupted them. “Their leader? Anything significant?”

“We don’t have a name, but he calls himself the Red Hook,” Chan told you. “According to people who’ve seen him, they say he’s a magic user.”

“Human?” you directed this at Minho. 

“Can’t say for sure, since the clan is a mixed bag,” he replied, “But the people we interviewed said they didn’t see any magical distinctions.” 

“Where do they hide out?” 

“Around,” Chan shrugged. “Last location was an abandoned farmhouse northwest of here. We checked it out already, and they’re no longer there. They tend to drift around to keep us a step behind them all the time.”

“My friends in the forest tell me when they see them,” Jisung said, “But they’re pretty well hidden a lot of the time. It’s likely Red Hook is concealing them somehow.” 

“Friends?” 

“The animals,” he explained. “The rabbits, squirrels, gophers, moles, and the like. I can talk to birds sometimes, but not always. It helps to have eyes in the trees,” he grinned mischievously, picking up a bag of trail mix. 

“I’d like to talk to the families,” you said, seeing the children’s names once more. 

You didn’t see anything peculiar other than they’d taken two girls and a boy so far. Some rituals called for a certain number of souls, but never spoke about sexes. It can certainly be a coincidence. Although, you rarely came across those in your line of work. 

“We already did,” Minho told you, “They don’t know anything.”

“I’d still like to talk to them myself. Their children might have something in common that you missed.” 

“Does this mean you’ll take the job?” Chan asked, and you detected a glimmer of hope in his voice. 

“For a fee.”

“Naturally,” he nodded. 

“With a demon on our team,” Minho said, “We’ll have this case wrapped up by supper.” 

“I don’t know about all that, but I’ll do my best,” you insisted. 

Chan moved to his nearby office when the door opened. In walked a rotund, dark-skinned man in a blue suit, wearing a bowler hat and checking his pocket watch. He didn’t look at the men at first, but when he looked up, his eyes settled on you. Shock took over his broad, square face and brown eyes widened with realization. 

“Good afternoon, Mayor,” Chan intervened before the man could speak, “What can I do for ya?”

“Chan, there is a demon in our station,” he said, voice quivering slightly. 

“She’s a bounty hunter,” he assured him. “She’s come to help with the missing children.”

“Demons don’t like children.”

“We do, actually,” you retorted, arms crossed. “And no, not to eat them,” you added disdainfully. 

“YN's a bounty hunter, Gerald,” Chan said. “She's just agreed to help us with the missing children. I think it'd be beneficial to have someone like her helping us. YN, this is our Mayor, Gerald Wallace.”

“Nice to meet you, sir,” you tried keeping the annoyance from your voice. 

“I don't know, Chan,” the mayor said, “You know folks around here. They won't take kindly to a…demon being in town right now.”

“I only want to help,” you fixed your jacket, “But if you don't want me here and want your children to keep being snatched up, then I'll be on my way.”

“Wait, wait,” Minho came to your side and faced the mayor, “Mayor Wallace, this demon isn't a normal demon. She's the demon who ended the war.”

Did he really have to keep telling people that?

“Impossible,” the mayor scoffed, “There's no way that demon stuck around after the war.”

“I did,” you said. “Do you want my help or not?”

“We do,” Chan answered quickly. “We do.”

“Chan,” Mayor Wallace turned to him stiffly, “May I speak to you in private, please?”

“Of course,” he gestured to let him pass, “This way.”

He shot you an apologetic glance, then followed the mayor into an office. 

“Sorry about that,” Minho said, “I promise our townspeople normally aren't this prejudiced. Things have been uneasy around here, so you can imagine a newcomer strolling into town concerning people.”

“Explains everyone's apprehension,” you replied, seeing Chan and Mayor Wallace through a window. You can see both men starting to heat up during the conversation. “It doesn't bother me as much as it used to,” you said, “I understand my people did heinous things when they came here. Not everyone is so quick to forgive.” 

“But not everyone is like that here,” Han reassured you. “They'll warm up to you soon enough.”

You didn't particularly care if the little people liked you. You didn't plan on staying too long anyways. 

“Where are you staying in town?” asked Minho, walking over to a small bookshelf behind his own desk. “The White Pearl?”

“I need money for a room and a stable first,” you told him, feeling that rumble in your stomach again. “I hoped I might get at least an advance. We've rode a long way.”

“We can talk about that when Chan finally finishes with Gerald,” he casted a glance over to the window. Chan appeared to have quieted the mayor down, but the man remained unconvinced. “You can go on ahead and tell Changbin I sent you. He'll give you a room, and some feed for your horse.”

“Appreciated,” you nodded, “Tell Chan he can find me there.”

“-Chan, I'm telling you this isn't a good idea!” Mayor Wallace said, coming out of Chan’s office. “We already got the docks to rebuild, the town council is on my behind about the merfolk situation and now we have our children going missing! Then, you got Han over there who'll tell anybody that'd listen that we got a demon and cause a damn hysteria!”

Chan appeared more amused than upset by now, and asked, “Han, you planning on causing a hysteria?”

“Not today, Chan.”

“See? Gerald, you put me in charge of the safety of this town,” he patted his shoulder, “Trust me.”

Wallace's shoulders sagged, and he gave you an uncertain glance, “Alright. I trust you. You never let us down before.”

“There you go,” Chan concluded, steering Mayor Wallace to the door. “You tell the council we have our best people on this…”

“He really knows how to de-escalate a situation, huh?” you asked, impressed.

“That's why he is the sheriff,” Han nodded. “Come on, I'll take you back to the inn. You can get settled before the work begins.”

Han led you out the door, and you untied Summer. “Looks like we got a job after all,” you grinned, petting her side. She huffed and you said, “No, no snakes this time…I think.”

“Wow,” Han marveled at Summer, taking in her fiery eyes and black mane. “A real dreadsteed.” He wiggled his nose at Summer, who nodded her head. When he gave a grin, cheeks puffing out, he said, “She's a tough cookie, huh? She says you guys just came from Newport.”

“You can talk to her?” You guided Summer back to the inn. 

“Animal hybrid,” he pointed at his own chest. “I can talk to all kinds of animals, even demonic ones.” He glanced at her again, “Summer is an interesting name for a dreadsteed. Is that her real name or a new one?”

“It's her name,” you said. “I gave it to her when we came back to the mortal realm. I named her that because summer is my favorite season. We don't have seasons where I'm from.”

“How dreadful,“ Han frowned, “I can't imagine living anywhere that is so desolate. I used to live in the forest before Chan found me and brought me here.”

“Found you?”

He scrunched up his nose guiltily, “I might not have been the most law-abiding squirrel at the time. I'd been caught stealing food from different farms, and rather than send me up the road, he gave me a place to stay and a job.”

“During or after the war?”

“After,” you both reached the steps of the inn, “A group of demons attacked my village and destroyed everything. I didn't have anywhere to go, so I ended up outside town. Chan found me hiding in someone's boat and took me in.”

“That's awfully kind of him.”

“That's the kind of guy he is,” he shrugged. “He really cares about everyone.” 

Han and Changbin helped you and Summer settle into The White Pearl. By the time Chan arrived, you'd devoured a hot sandwich and given Summer hay and an apple for her patience. 

“Everything squared then?” You asked him. “Your mayor seems…”

“He's only being cautious,” Chan insisted, “But with a bit of convincing, he's willing to pay the 50 gold price.”

Fifty sounded more than fair to you. After that, he insisted on taking you to the childrens’ families himself. You both mounted your horses and headed towards the first farm. 

“What can you tell me about their families?” you asked him, riding Summer alongside him on his own horse. 

“Seo Dobin, the first kid taken, lives at the Seo vineyard not too far out of town,” he began. “His parents grow grapes and berries and are part of the Seo pack.”

“Pack? He's a werewolf?”

“Yes, but don't worry. Junhwan and Eunji are good people. Dobin's dad can be a bit of a hothead; I’ve had to put him in holding once or twice, but he’s usually a nice man. His mother, Eunji, does some work at the bakery here from time to time.” He noticed your pensive stare, and said, “They’re all good people. Each and every one of them.”

“Good people can have enemies too,” you replied. “Enemies that they don’t know about, even. What do the other families do for work? Minho said the children were taken around farms?”

“The farms are the least guarded parts of Levanter,” he said, “Since they’re owned by the families and not the town. The Seo family mainly deals in grapes and berries to make into wine; The Wang family grows wheat, and the Lee family grows corn.”

“All crops where the stalks can grow high,” you added to your mental list of notes. 

“Where the children can be snatched without anyone seeing them,” Chan added, nodding to himself. “I thought the same thing. It’d be harder to take them from a pig, horse or cattle farm because there’s always people patrolling those types of places. A crop of plants? Easier to walk through them and wait for the kid to go right by them instead.” 

“Are there any other farm-”

“-I already told them not to let their kids go running off into their fields or in the woods,” he answered ahead of your question. “I told the kids at the schoolhouse to go straight home after school, and don’t talk to any strangers they meet on the road.”

“Did you instill a curfew?”

“I’ve considered it, but I don’t think it’ll help much. These kids are taken during the day off their families’ own land. I’ve asked a few of our local hunters and mountain men to keep an eye and an ear out for anything suspicious too.” He hesitated, and you worried what question would follow it. “Minho’s convinced it’s the gang, but it’s not them.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“And I think you already have an idea who it is.”

“The idea that magic casters use children in their rituals was a myth perpetuated by religious zealots who fear magic and everything it can do,” you said, keeping the bite out of your voice. “While innocent blood or souls are called for in a good chunk of blood magic rituals, anyone who truly knows magic and reads magic texts will know that it means an animal. Whoever this person is either is a magic user who doesn’t care about translations, or a magic user who doesn’t understand the magic they are trying to wield.” 

“You say ‘magic user’. Do you mean, like, a human using magic?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Fae, demons, merfolk, some species of hybrids are all born with magic already inside of us. It’s in our bones, and in our blood. Our specialty, if we have one, is just a choice we make in using our magic. Humans…No offense, Sheriff, but humans were not meant to have magic.” 

“Really?”

“That’s not a jab at humankind. I’ve met plenty of human mages and warlocks who use their gifts rightly,” you said quickly. “I mean, physically. Their bodies are not meant to hold it. Yes, they can perform little rituals and incantations and make potions, but real magic? No. It'd kill them, so they likely wear trinkets or charms that harness their power. I think whoever is taking these children plans to use them for something, otherwise you would’ve found their bodies by now.”

“Perhaps they're using them to gain more power?” He suggested. 

You considered the idea. “It's a possibility.”

You both arrived at the Seo farm, where you saw a farmhouse, barn, and a chicken coop. Beyond the house, you saw rows upon rows of vineyard bushes. The barn door wide open, you saw two young men pouring fermented grapes into a barrel. Briefly you pictured a young wolf pup running around the front yard area, maybe with a toy plane or a kite while his mother watched over him from a window. The same woman who happened to be outside the house with a tub and washing board. 

“Sheriff!” She gasped, dropping the board in the water and coming his way. “Sheriff, have you found him? Have you found Dobin?”

“I'm sorry, Eunji,” Chan frowned, getting off his horse and removing his hat. “But, I have someone here who'd like to speak with you about that day.”

“Who?” she looked at you. Even with the crinkles on the sides of her eyes, Mrs. Seo looked younger than you expected. Her wolf ears perked at the sight of you, and you saw her nose twitch slightly. Her claws long and black, led to furry arms underneath her linen dress. “A demon? What's a demon doing here?”

“I'm here to help, ma'am,” you answered, dismounting Summer and standing in front of her. “Sheriff Chan told me about the children in the area, and I want to help you.”

You expected her to question you like so many others, but instead she breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness! We need all the help we can get. Dobin has been missing for three weeks now, and nobody can find him.”

Worry filled her eyes and you spotted the shaking hands she wrung together. You pitied her and said, “Where was the last place you saw him?”

“Back here. Come with me.”

She led you both around the house to a backyard. You saw the typical horse and wagon tied up outside the barn in a stall, calmly eating hay. The vineyard started behind a wooden fence that bordered the entire crop, and seeing the uniform rows stretching for acres made it the perfect kidnapping spot. You imagined a small boy being snatched without anyone seeing him or his kidnapper. 

“He was down there,” she brought you both behind the fence to point down a middle row, “Helping one of our pickers gather grapes. He always loves helping pick the grapes,” she smiled fondly, “We know he sneaks some, but we let him. Our picker, Taeyong, said he turned his back to put some buckets in a wagon, and when he looked back, Dobin was gone. At first,” she wrung her apron in her hands nervously, “At first, we thought the little rascal was hiding from us. You know, the way children play hide and seek? He does that from time to time and it worries me something awful,” you heard the panic in her voice even speaking about it, “But when it…it started to grow dark,” her eyes began watering and her lip trembled, “We…Oh, why did I let him go?! Something told me not to, but he was with Taeyong! He was safe! I should've been more careful! Why?! Why didn't I pay more attention?!” 

Chan embraced her as she started to sob. She reminded you of the women in the villages during the war. Women who grieved for their fallen children, who begged you to find their lost sons and daughters. Their pain radiated onto yours, stinging your eyes and bringing a bout of helplessness. This warlock, whoever they were, needed to be stopped. 

You nodded at Chan, then proceeded into the vineyard. Cautiously, you walked outside of the trodden path where you saw dozens of footprints having worn down the grass into the dirt. Wheel marks told you they'd just finished collecting ripe grapes for the day, and it's unlikely you will find any child size footprints here. Taking a whiff of the air, you only smelled freshly toiled earth and ripening grapes, not flesh. If you concentrated, you caught wisps of human sweat but nothing of a child. Time would’ve drowned out any proper scent. You envisioned a small boy, eight-years-old and greedily munching on grapes he'd picked off the vines. He'd have walked away from Taeyong. What could make him walk away from the safety of an adult? Standing in the middle of the row, you scanned over the vines to only see more grapes. He had plenty to pick from here, so why did he walk away? 

“Taeyong,” you sensed Chan walking up behind him, “Did you ever interview him?”

“We did.”

“What's his story?”

“Exactly what Mrs. Seo just told you,” he said, “He was picking, turned around, and the boy was gone.” 

That sounded too convenient. “Any idea why the boy would walk away?” 

“More grapes? Berries, maybe?” 

You started walking alongside the path again.  Turning to face one of the hedges, you noticed breakages in the foliage. 

“He went through here,” you said, seeing a break between two stalks. You then spotted small footprints still in the dirt. “Yes, yes, he went through here. Otherwise Taeyong would've seen him walking away.” 

You pushed through the vines to the other side without another word. Dobin didn't stop here. He kept going. You inhaled deeply, trying to mesh through the various earthy scents for something human. Scanning the floor in the second to last row, you saw them. Embedded in the hard packed dirt were small paw prints. Four toes with a palm, they went one in front of the other through the dirt. You crouched to touch one, and realized they were cat prints. 

“Do The Seos have any pets?” You asked Chan, who just broke through a brush behind you. 

“A dog, some chickens and two horses.”

“No cats?”

“No cats.”

Slowly, you followed the cat prints until they went out past the fence. “He followed a cat,” you concluded, “Into the forest.”

“How did we miss these?” Chan wondered, following the prints with his eyes. 

“Because they were hidden,” you answered simply. You took a few sniffs, then said, “A cat. Yeah, definitely a cat.” 

“So, our kidnapper can turn into a cat,” Chan said, standing beside you at the threshold of the forest. “Clever. Most children like animals, especially children who live around them. Dobin likely saw the cat and followed it.”

The image of Dobin, innocent and cheerful, following a cat before being snatched gave you shivers. Stepping further, you let your sense of smell guide you, but sadly it wasn't as strong. 

“Deputy Han,” you looked at Chan, “He's an animal hybrid.”

“Yeah, obviously.” 

“How good is his sense of smell?”

“Pretty damn good.”

“Have him come here. He can help me track down this cat.”

“I'll have Eunji call the station.”

You saw a rush of adrenaline pump through him. He finally had a lead. According to his notes, Dobin, a werewolf, went missing three weeks ago; Sanghee, a garden fairy,  disappeared two weeks ago, and Hyeyong, a werecat, was a week ago.  Two girls. One boy. All from farm families outside of town. All of them are magical. The connections seemed too close to be a coincidence. Thinking of the timeline again, you realized they'd taken a child each week. They'd need a fourth, if they follow their pattern. Problem? You had no idea which farm they'd strike next. 

****

“Alright, children, remember what Sheriff Bahng said. You're all to go home straight after school, and don't talk to strangers.”

A rustle of books and papers sounded at dismissal. Slyvia followed the other children outside of the schoolhouse, her lunch box swinging from her clawed hand and books to her other side. She saw classmates rushing ahead of her to the general goods store for sweets, while others waited for their parents to retrieve them. Her own mother had taken to coming for her since the disappearances began, but not today. She had too much work. Slyvia immediately thought of all the chores waiting for her back at the ranch. Her mother will need help with the washing, and then she has to muck out the stables. She hated cleaning the stables, but with her brother and father away in the big city, there is nobody else to do it. Walking past The White Pearl, her sensitive nose already smelled the manure. 

“Hey Slyvia! Wait up!”

The reptilian child turned around to see a boy running to catch up to her. Barney Pebbles was a lumpy elf halfling boy who lived on the farm next to her family's ranch. Sandy blond hair fell behind his pointy ears, and she saw the run bring pink into his cheeks. Slyvia smiled a toothy grin at him regardless. 

“Want to…Want to walk home together?” He huffed, catching his breath as he came up beside her. “My Ma says it's safer if there's two…two of us.”

“Sure!” Slyvia beamed. “Sheriff Bahng says we need to look out for one another.”

The pair continued walking together. “Did you hear about the demon?” he asked, pushing blond hair from his forehead. 

“Demon? What demon?” She wouldn't deny the pang of fear that struck her. “Where?”

“My Pa was leaving the bank when he saw a demon on a big horse riding past him,” he explained as they reached the end of town, “He says she had these stumps on her head, and her horse had flaming eyes!”

“But don't they have wings? My Uncle Sithlin says some have wings.”

“I didn't think to ask,” he grew quiet, then said, “Do you think they're behind the other kids?”

“But that started happening before they came.” 

Slyvia thought about her missing classmates. Dobin, a boy slimmer than a tree branch, once offered to split blueberries they found near the school. Sanghee, a garden fairy, always radiated kindness and befriended her on her first day. Hyeyoung, a werecat kitten, helped her find her bonnet when it flew off her head. Their disappearances worried everyone. Slyvia hoped her friends were okay, and that Sheriff Bahng would find them in time. Her father told her Sheriff Bahng was really smart and made of tough stuff. 

The other kids said he could talk to sea creatures. 

Slyvia and Barney walked down the dirt road leading out of town. They passed by merchants going in and out of town, and greeted neighbors they saw along the way. They continued talking about the newcomer, and she couldn't stop the bundle of nerves in her stomach. She remembered the stories her Pa and uncles told her about demons. They're supposed to be evil made into flesh. Thinking about a winged monster gave her jitters. 

“-Mr. Edwards says that the demons he saw were super tall! As tall as trees, and they could breathe fire.”

Slyvia listened to his story while she looked up the forest lined path ahead. She saw the crossroads where it split between the town, another village and the capital city. The tall directory signs were her first milestone back home. 

“Maybe they're helping whoever is taking the other kids,” she suspected. “My Nana says they use babies in their rituals, and feast on newborns.”

“You think?”

‘Meow!’

The two children stopped in their tracks at the sound. When it sounded again, they realized it came from the forest bushes nearby. Slyvia's nerves stood on end. Barney stepped closer to the threshold, bending to peek into the bushes. 

“Barney…”

“It's a cat,” he said, “I think it's hurt.”

“Barney, don't go in there.”

She could smell it the closer she came. Barney, ever the animal lover, ignored her warning and walked further into the forest. 

“Slyvia, come quick,” he said worriedly. “It's hurt.”

Slyvia came up behind him, and sniffed the air. Most cats smelled according to their environment. Barn cats smelled like horses and pigs; house cats smelled like coffee and linens. A wild cat carried the scent of leaves and trees. This cat didn't have any of those. She walked behind Barney, her heart starting to race. 

“Barney Pebbles, you come back here,” she said, panic building in her voice. “We're not supposed to wander off.”

“It might be really hurt, Slyvia,” he replied over his shoulder. 

Feet crunching the forest floor, Slyvia tried peeking into the shrubs from behind him, but couldn't see anything. 

“Come here, kitty,” Barney crouched in front of it, “It's okay. I won't hurt you. Hey! Wait!” 

The sound of rustled leaves told her the cat scurried from the bushes. Barney went after it, and Slyvia followed. A downward wind brought a scent to her flat nostrils. Not a cat. Not a dog. Not a bird, rabbit or wolf. She gasped. It was human. She saw a flash of black and white dart behind one of the trees, Barney only a few paces behind. 

“Barney Pebbles! Come back here now!”

“Calm down, Slyvia. It's only a-AH!” 

“Gotcha!”

“Barney!”

Slyvia cried out his name as an arm grabbed him from behind a tree. She froze in place, her breath becoming haggard and drying her throat. She could hear Barney struggling, and a man’s voice drowning him out. The sound of snapping twigs came from her right, and she spotted them. Three men wearing red armbands stepped out from behind the trees, malice on their faces. Slyvia ran. Her heart pounded in her chest with each foot step. Panic put them right on her heels, and she beat the ground harder. 

“Get her!” She heard the silvery voice say from the distance. “Don't let her get away!”

The young chameleon ran through dense shrubbery, the tiny branches snagging on her dress and scratching her colorful scales. She'd do what her Papa taught her. With a quick glance back, Slyvia dove into a nearby bush and closed her eyes. She envisioned herself turning from her usual pale green and yellow to a dark brown. She brought her knees to her chest and tucked her head and tail inwards. The footsteps charging after her came right beside her bush, and she stuffed her face into her dress to muffle her breathing. 

“Where'd she go?” One of the men asked. “She can't have gone far!”

“If Maurice hears we lost her he'll burn us alive!”

“Ah shoot, Suho, does it really matter? That was a girl, and Maurice only needed a boy.”

“She can go blabbing to the sheriff and his deputies,” the other man retorted. “We're so close, Baekhyun. I can taste it now. If we help that old man with his ritual, he'll give us whatever we want. That means gold and women!” 

“I…I don't know, Suho,” a higher voice said uncertainly. “They're kids. I thought we didn't harm youngins.”

“We're not harming them. Maurice says they'll be fine. It'll only hurt for a little bit.”

“You believe that?”

“Of course, I do. Now, you go that way; Chanyeol, you go that way and I'll check down here. She can't have gone too far.”

Slyvia heard the men split up. The last image of Barney being lifted off the ground came to her, and she shivered. The men, whoever they were, also kidnapped the other children. She needed to tell someone quickly. When the coast was clear, Slyvia gingerly climbed up the tree behind her. Her fingers sticking to the branches, the child moved from one tree to another with ease. The Seo family lived not too far from this spot; she can go to them to call the law. She needed to find Sheriff Bahng. He needed to know that Barney is in trouble. 

****

Han and Minho appeared some time later, the pair having appeared through a portal. 

“I thought it'd be faster than horses,” Minho explained, closing it with a wave of his hand. “What have you found?”

“There's paw prints,” you told Han as you both walked to the blocked off spot in the dirt, “But no animal scent.”

“You think it might be a hybrid?” 

“It doesn't smell like an animal or hybrid,” you said. “It's…I don't know. Chan said you have the best nose, so I thought you could track what I can't.” You stopped right by the forest entrance, “They go about three or four yards into the woods, then it goes cold.”

Han nodded, “It shouldn't be that hard. If we can't track the cat,” he pulled out a small handkerchief from his pocket, “We can track Dobin.”

“What's that?” You eyed the blue and white cloth in his hand, seeing grape vines stitched into the border. 

“Dobin's head scarf,” he answered. “He wears it when he goes into the field. His mother thought it might help.” 

You watched him take a deep inhale of the scarf, closing his eyes in concentration. Soft black nose wiggling, tail twitching at the new scent, Han immediately glanced up to the tree ahead. He started walking without saying anything to anyone, sniffing occasionally as he went. 

“You think it's a human shifted into a cat then, huh?” Minho asked, coming up beside you. 

“I can't pick up anything to the contrary,” you told him. “My sense of smell isn't very strong here. He might find out what I can't.”

Minho grew quiet while Han stuck himself into a bush. “I was looking through my library at the station. I keep it there for research purposes and all that, you know? I thought while you and Chan checked out the different locations, Han and I could try finding any magic rituals that require sacrifices.”

“Psh, that's a lot. What did you find?”

“That the shadow casters of yesteryear really enjoyed sacrificing things to ancient gods,” he snorted. “But I did come across a few rituals of interest. One in particular intrigued me.”

“What was it?”

“The Secrets of the Mystics by Arnold B. Miller described this group of ancient mystics who called upon gods to sustain their power,” he began. “They regularly sacrificed people to a god named Yuth’ik. I couldn’t find anything that gave any background on Yuth’ik other than that he was defeated by a warlock named Vivian Moon and several others centuries ago. They banished him into another realm, where he’s likely laid dormant for thousands of years. If the Hook clan are really working for someone, it’s someone who wants to release Yuth’ik.” 

“For what purpose? More power?”

“Most likely.” He gave a slight scoff and shook his head, “If they’d gone to an actual magical being, we’d tell them what a stupid idea that is. I will say this: I pity whoever this person is.”

“Why?”

“The ancient gods weren’t known for their kindness,” he said. “A lot of the stories in the book mentioned the summoner having to give something in return.”

“Four souls isn’t enough?”

“That’s just to open the cage. If Yuth’ik really is a god, they'll expect gifts. The person behind this doesn’t understand that once you summon a god or a demon or any powerful being, you’re their servant for life,” he looked over at you, dark eyes serious and stern, “For life.” 

You couldn’t stop yourself from laughing. Shaking your head, you said, “Will they ever learn?”

A part of you expected Minho to take your words offensively; he does live amongst humans, and is close to them. Yet, you heard him snort and say, “Never.” 

The three of you traveled further into the forest. Han sniffed every bush, tree and flower patch that carried a wisp of Dobin’s scent. You admitted his sense of smell must be incredible if he can follow a trace three weeks old. His bushy trail flicked and wiggled whenever he caught a particularly strong scent. Both you and Minho kept your eyes on the trees around you, searching for the slightest change or movement. 

Underneath the canopy of leaves and sunlight, you took in the vibrancy of the world around you. Nothing grew in The Mar. No trees, flowers or grass thrived there; the only animals around were the vicious beasts lurking around the mountain ranges and rocky canyons. A cool breeze wafted through the trees, brushing your cheeks and hair, and you inhaled deeply. Why would anyone wish to destroy such a glorious place? Nor’goth’s armies tore down trees, burned wheat fields, and polluted rivers to keep the mortals from feeding themselves. He believed cutting off their supplies left them powerless, but the people you’d met proved the opposite. 

“Did you guys hear that?” Han sprung up from the newest bush, whipping his head side to side in a panic. 

“Hear what?” Minho asked, irritably. “Jisung, we’ve been walking for ages. Have you found anything yet-”

“-Shush!” he interrupted him, putting a hand up for silence. 

The two of you watched the hybrid carefully walk sideways, his head pointed up into the trees. A feeling of apprehension came over you when he stopped underneath one of the thicker trees. The smooth motion of an arrow being notched caught your attention, and you turned to see Minho’s bow armed and ready to loosen. Han braced his hands up against the rough bark, and sniffed. The immediate image of an enemy dropping onto him had you withdrawing your sword from your back. 

“Jisung…” Minho whispered harshly, but Han ignored him. 

 “Slyvia?” Han said, confused. “Honey, what are you doing up there?”

Both you and Minho shook when a figure jumped down from the tree onto their feet. Minho unleashed his arrow, but thankfully it stuck into the tree inches above the child’s head. Skin the color of the trees, the chameleon-hybrid’s scales gradually changed to light green and yellow in seconds. Bulbous, beady eyes were on either side of her nose, full of fear and worry. 

“Deputy Han!” she cried, immediately wrapping herself around his middle, “Deputy Han, you have to help me!”

Han bent down to her level right as you and Minho reached her. Her heavy breaths making her chest rise and fall, you saw tears spilling from her black eyes and shoulders shuddering in every sob. 

“It’s Barney!” she sobbed, voice cracking at the end. “They took him! The bad people took him! You have to help him! Sheriff Bahng has to get him!”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Han said, hands rubbing her shaking shoulders, “Just take a deep breath, honey. You mean Barney Pebbles? Fred’s little boy?”

“Yes! We were walking home together, and he-and he saw this cat in the bushes and I told him, sir, I told him to not wander off but he did! Then, we chased it-it- in-into th-the woods and this bad man picked him up and these other men started chasing me! We have to save him! We have to!” she fell back into Han’s arms, sobbing into his shoulder as his eyes met Minho’s. 

“Where did this happen, Slyvia?” Minho asked next, bending down to look into her face. “How far?”

“That way,” she pointed behind him. “I don-don’t know where!”

“Alright, alright, you go with Deputy Han and talk to the sheriff,” he said to her gently. “My friend and I will go look for Barney.” 

Slyvia took one glance at you, then buried her face in Han’s neck. You expected that reaction. Crouching beside Minho, you said, “We’re going to find your friend, and bring him back, okay?” She flinched when you met her eyes again. 

“You’re a demon…” she said, voice muffled by Han’s shirt collar. 

“I am,” you nodded, standing with Han and Minho, “And you want to know what that means?”

“You’ll eat my friends!”

“No,” you giggled, “It means bad guys are scared of me. The bad people who took your friend will hand him right back to me if they know what’s good for them.”

This seemed to calm her slightly, though not enough for her to look at you. “I’ll take her to Chan,” Han said. “We can get in contact with her folks, and Barney’s parents.”  

“I’ll give him a heads up.” 

Minho reached into a pouch on his belt and withdrew dark blue dust. Putting a pinch between his fingers, he blew it out into the air. Rather than disappear or fall to the ground, the glowing swirl of dust stayed in the air. 

“Chan, we found Slyvia Eleon. She says Barney Pebbles was just grabbed. Han’s bringing her to you; YN and I are going to scout the area.” With another puff of air, the dust cloud quickly darted away from you and down back to the farm. “We should go to where he was taken,” he said to you, “We could check it out while their footprints and scent are fresh.” 

“Good idea.”

“Slyvia,” he addressed the little girl again, “Sweetie, do you remember any details about where he’d been taken? A tree or flower or a specific place?”

Slyvia turned her head, sniffling, and thought for a moment. “It was near the direction sign. I remember because I live past it.”

“On which side?”

“The…left. The left side of the road.”

“Alright, thank you, Slyvia,” he petted her head, “Don’t worry. My friend and I are going to find Barney.” 

“They’re going to kill him,” she broke back into a sob. “They’re going to kill him and eat him!”

“Nobody is killing and eating anyone,” Han assured her, rubbing her back as he began walking away. “Mrs. Seo just came back from the bakery too. She can give you a snack and you can tell Sheriff Bahng…” 

Watching Han take the girl away, you looked to Minho, “Do you know the sign she’s talking about?”

“I do. It’s far though. Take my hand.”

You didn’t question it. Taking his hand, you watched the dark fae aim his outstretched palm to the ground. Glowing and sparkling a bright purple, you recognized the spiraling and crisp winds of a teleportation circle. In a flash of light, you and Minho left your spot in the forest. You could feel yourself being thrown into a tornado, spinning and spinning through gushes of wind, before landing on soft grass.

“Here we are,” Minho said, removing the circle with a closed fist. 

You found yourself on the dirt road a mile from town. On the crossroad corner stood a tall post with different directions on it. ‘Levanter Bay 1 mile’ ‘Gold Rush 5 miles’ ‘Sunwind 10 miles’ went in various directions. 

“Slyvia said they saw the men down towards town,” Minho started walking in that direction. “Their footprints will still be in the dirt; we can follow those.” 

“This Barney kid,” you caught up with his quick strides, “What do you know about him?”

“A bit simple-minded, but a really nice kid,” he answered. “His family owns a pig farm. He loves animals, so it’s no surprise he followed a cat into the woods despite all sense.”

“They took him from off the road instead of a farm,” you noted. “They’re getting desperate. This ritual of theirs must be happening soon.”

“Yuth’ik’s ritual can happen at any time. They just need the four souls and the right words,” he said. “They need all four in order to open the portal to let him through.”

“That explains the rush. It’s risky to be snatching kids from the side of a somewhat busy road,” you nodded at a passing wagon, “Someone might’ve seen the two of them going off the path.” 

“Perhaps, but if they went deep enough, nobody would’ve heard them.” 

You both stopped when you reached two sets of clear footprints going off into the grass. Minho and you walked along them, and that’s where you picked up a scent. Barney Pebbles must sweat pretty heavily if you could pick it up so quickly. It started by one of the trees at the edge, then carried off through a large bush. When you looked inside, you saw tiny prints in the dirt and a breakage in the leaves. 

“The cat hid in here,” you told Minho, “And he followed it.” 

“There are more prints over here,” Minho called from nearby. You saw him standing between two large trees, looking at spots behind them. “The shapeshifter had accomplices. Two or three by the looks of the sets.” 

“What were they planning to do? Ambush the kid?” 

“To make sure he didn’t escape,” he examined one of the trunks with his hand. 

Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew a small piece of blue chalk. Well, at least you thought it was chalk. Minho started rubbing the blue stick onto the thick brown bark as one might a piece of paper. You came up to him, and saw the blue chalk having outlined handprints along the edge of the trunk. You counted two large hands on one side, then two more on the other. 

“Two over here,” Minho went and did the same to the other tree, “And one more over here. Three culprits.”

“What is this?” you asked him, wiping some of the chalk with your finger. 

“It’s a little invention of mine,” he said, putting the chalk away. “I enchanted a few pieces of chalk so I can lift prints. It’s damn helpful when investigating scenes. I got a fingerprint off one of them,” he said, putting a thin piece of film into the pouch, “I can cross check it back at the station. If it’s one of the Hook Clan, we’ll know who.” 

“Intriguing,” you nodded, “I never heard of an enchantment that can do that.”

“I like to experiment with magic,” he shrugged. You both walked back to the scene of the kidnapping, “Magic is so versatile and fluid. It can be used for anything, if one puts their mind to it.”

“That bit of powder you used to contact Chan,” you said, “You invented that too?”

“I wish,” he said, “It’s one of the ways fairies communicate away from home. Fairy dust,” he petted the leather pouch. “Can transport messages or people from one place to another.” 

“Just think happy thoughts?” you joked, remembering the stories.

Minho laughed, “No, no happy thoughts required. Just a deep breath before you teleport.” He stopped at the spot where you smelled Barney and his kidnapper the strongest. “What can you smell?”

“Male,” you sniffed the air, and let the aroma linger in your nose, “At least 30-years-old. He’d been standing right here,” you pressed yourself against the tree. You put your nose to the trunk, catching a bit of his sweat on the skin. Something then threw you off, “Coal.”

“What?”

“Coal,” you sniffed the spot again, “Or something like it. He had some sort of dust on him.”

“The clan sometimes hang out in abandoned mines or lumber yards,” Minho said, putting his fingerprint dust on the bark next to you. “That might be where it comes from.” 

“We should tell Chan and Han,” you advised, “Then we can see what they learned from the little girl.” 

“Alright.”

He took your hand a second time, and opened up a transport circle once more. In another howling winds, you left the wilderness for the hustle and bustle of Levanter Bay. Stumbling forward a moment, you caught yourself in a deep breath. Hardly anyone appeared bothered by the demon and fairy who’d just popped up in the middle of the town square. 

“Minho,” Changbin came down the steps of the inn, wiping his hands with his apron, “Is it true? Was Barney taken?”

“News travels fast, huh?” he quipped. 

“His dad is in here,” he nodded to the inn behind him, “Hollering about someone taking his boy and that he was gonna hunt the bastard himself.”

“Oh god, no,” Minho groaned. “Don’t tell me he went into the woods?”

“No, no, I talked him down, but he’s more pissed off than Honey when she can’t catch any fish,” he said. “You didn’t find him, did you?”

“We didn’t, but we have leads,” he answered. “Just…make sure they don’t do anything stupid.”

“People know the clan is involved,” Changbin said seriously. “Fred was talking about going to the Brandstone Mine south of here.”

“The mine?” Minho looked over at you, then back at Changbin, “Why there?”

“Rumor has it that Red Hook and his boys are up there,” he answered, looking between the both of you. “It’s only a matter of time before someone takes it upon themselves to take them out.”

“That’s a dumb idea,” you snapped. “It can cause them, or whoever they’re working for, to do something rash.” 

Like kill their captives and dispose of their corpses. Minho was about to give Changbin instructions when a voice called out from behind him, “Lee! Hey, Lee!”

A big burly man with a thick blond beard and short blond hair came storming down the steps towards him. From his red face, you could tell he’d been ranting for a good while now. Minho sighed irritably, “You go to Chan. I’ll handle Fred.” 

You nodded, and watched Minho reach Fred first. Fred, standing several inches above Minho, started shouting right away. You thought Minho might flinch at the sudden rush of anger, but the deputy remained cool. Deciding Minho and Changbin could handle the distressed parent, you walked ahead back to the station. Inside, you found a group of people sitting in the middle of the room. Slyvia sat on the lap of a woman who could only be her mother, and another chameleon hybrid who must be her father. A slender woman with blond hair was beside them, anxiously listening to everything they were saying. Barney’s mother, no doubt. Chan and Han sat in front of the girl, talking to her softly and gently.  

“-Did you see what they looked like?” Chan asked her. “Anything particularly different or noticeable about them?”

“No,” she shook her head. “I was hiding.”

“Could you hear what they were talking about?”

“They said that they’d get burned alive for not getting me,” she said. “But the other man said they didn’t need me.”

Slowly, you approached and put the pieces of her story together. “Did they say any names?”

“Suho, Baekhyun and Maurice.”

“Kim Junmyeon,” Chan grunted, “How’d I know he’d be involved?”

“And Baekhyun too,” added Han. 

“Who are they?” Slyvia’s mother asked. 

“Part of the Red Hook clan,” Chan told her. “We think they’ve been taking the kids. But, Maurice…I don’t know any Maurice around here. Jisung?”

Han thought for a moment, then shook his head. “Nope, nobody comes to mind. Does that name mean anything to you?” he asked the parents, and they shook their heads. 

The moment Slyvia’s parents spotted you, they gasped. Her mother clutched her tightly, while the male stood in front of them. You didn’t make any move towards them, instead deciding to keep your distance. 

“That must be who they’re working for,” you finally spoke up. “Minho and I found four sets of prints on the trees near where he was taken.” 

“That’s a demon!” the man said, “Sheriff, you got a demon in here!”

“She’s a friend, Salazar,” Chan insisted, standing up to put himself between you and the father. “A friend.” 

“That’s a damn demon! There ain’t no demon that's friendly! I’ve seen what those things can do! I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s the one taking all the children!”

“I’m only here to help, sir,” you said from your spot. 

‘Their kind will never accept us! They know nothing of respect or obedience! They must be subdued!’

You shut out Nor’goth’s voice from your head. “Minho and I found some information that backs your daughter’s story,” you said. 

“She’s his niece,” Barney’s mother said, stepping in front of him to address you. When she tucked hair behind her ear, you saw a point at the curve. A Sunwind Elf. “You’re here to…to help us?” you heard the disbelief in her voice. She looked at your horn stumps, then back to your face. “With Barney?”

“Yes, ma’am. I take it you’re his mother?”

“I am,” she nodded. You noticed her puffy eyes, and trembling lips. “Slyvia says he was taken by a shapeshifter.” 

“We believe so,” Chan answered. 

“Your husband is a human, isn’t he? I saw him outside,” you asked her, coming closer. 

“He is,” she nodded. “I’m from Sunwind. What does that have to do with anything?”

“So, your son is a halfling,” you looked to Chan, “Dobin is a wolf pup. Sanghee is a garden fairy, and Hyeyoung is a werecat. They’re all children with magic inside of them.” You turned to Minho’s desk where you found a book left open. When you turned a page, you saw a chapter titled: ‘Yuth’ik: God of the Trees’. Rather than tell Chan that these magical children are likely being used for their magic, you said, “There has to be a connection, right?”

Chan glanced at the open book, then at you, “Yes, there might be.”

“It was those damn bandits in the woods,” Mrs. Pebbles snapped. “They did this. They must have. Who else is vile enough to kidnap innocent children? On a count of them being magical, no less!” 

“Them, and someone they’re working for,” Chan told her, putting up a hand to calm her. “Wilma, go find Fred. Lord knows he’s bound to do something crazy.”

“Too late, Sheriff,” Han said with a deadpan voice as he looked out the window. 

“What?”

Everyone converged by the window where a group of people on horses started kicking up dirt. Their calls and cries mixed together, and you knew what happened by their angry faces. 

They started a damn mob. 

“Damnit!” Chan cursed, grabbing a rifle from beside the door and rushing outside. With all of you behind him, he called out to the crowd, “Hey, hey, hey! What the hell's going on here?! Minho!”

Minho and Changbin tried closing off the horsemen, but there were too many. Fred Pebbles, sat upon a white palomino, glared down at Chan. 

“They got my boy, Sheriff!” he said, voice hoarse and deep. “Those bastards have my boy!”

“We know, but there’s a way to go about this!” Chan shouted over the ruckus, “Hey now! Hey!” 

“Pebbles, damnit man!” Mayor Wallace appeared from the mercantile with a few other customers, “What are you doing?!”

“I'm gonna make this all right!”

“Like hell you are!” the mayor blustered. “We are civilized people! Not animals!”

“So what are we supposed to do?! Let those filthy sons of bitches take our children?!”

“Of course not, but Fred, riling people up and going out there like this can make stuff worse!” Mayor Wallace wiped his brow and said, “Let's all go into the town hall and discuss this-”

“-I'm tired of listening to y'all. You ain't don't nothing-”

Chan cocked his rifle and fired it into the air. The loud gunblast caught everyone’s attention, some of the people ducking and others whipping around angrily. The crowd focused on him, Chan walked up the steps of The White Pearl, and he glared down at them. 

“What the hell’s gotten into all of you? I thought we were people, not animals!”

“They keep taking our children, Chan!” one woman shouted from her horse. “Somebody’s gotta do something!”

“I understand that, but if we went around hanging every single person we thought was guilty, we’d be no better than them,” he remarked. “I know you’re all worried. I know you’re all hurting, but we need to be smart about how we handle this. Red Hook might have his morals-”

“-Horse shit!-

“-But the person he’s working for doesn’t,” he continued. “Now, thanks to Slyvia and our bounty hunter, we’ve discovered some new information.”

“Such as?” Mayor Wallace asked. 

“They’re operating in a coal mine,” Minho said, getting up onto the porch beside Chan. “Anybody know any abandoned mines around here?” 

“There’s the Willfire mine up north,” the woman on the horse called out. “My husband used to work there before the war.”

“The old Brandstone mine too,” said Mayor Wallace. “But, that was gold, not coal.”

“The coal could be dirt,” suggested Changbin, the woodland dwarf. “If they’re living in there, they likely got the dirt on their clothes and hands.” 

“It’s a long shot,” an elderly man said from atop his horse, “But they could also be at my family’s mine. It’s gotten run over by spiders, but if they could’ve exterminated them before moving in.” 

You shuddered thinking about the large arachnids. 

“Alright,” Chan nodded at their answers, “I say we split into groups and search these mines while they’re off guard. Deputy Han will lead a group to the Brandstone mine; Deputy Lee will lead one to the Willfire mine, and I’ll take a group up to Mr. Choi’s mine. If you find them, do not engage,” he said these words firmly, “We need to catch them off guard. Whoever is helping them will not hesitate to kill anyone who opposes them. We need to be vigilant and patient.” 

“And I will stay with the rest of the town here,” Mayor Wallace said to Chan. “Changbin and I will organize something for the children and the families. You know, keep everybody calm during this whole thing.”

“Sounds good…”

“They’re going after magical children,” you whispered to Minho and Han. “They plan to use their magic to open the gates.”

“Makes sense,” Minho nodded. 

“Those poor babies,” Han frowned worriedly. 

“We need to find them quickly,” you told them. “Now that they have four children, they can start their ritual.” 

“Seungmin! Seungmin, where are you?” Chan’s words interrupted you, as he looked through the crowd. 

“Right here, Sheriff.” 

Dressed in a pin-striped shirt with an apron around his waist, Seungmin fixed his glasses on his nose and looked up at Chan. Just by the golden eyes, black wolf’s nose, and furry pointed ears, you realized Seungmin was a werewolf. 

“Where’s your pack at?” Chan addressed him. 

“Likely back home at the den,” he answered. “We’ve been looking ever since little Dobin was taken. He’s one of us, you know. I’ll get word to my father about your search parties.”

“I’ll call on the wisps!” 

A young fairy came floating up to the steps. Black hair in front of his face, the garden fairy’s bright green wings batted as he landed on the floor. You noticed he held onto the medical bag across his body. “They can fly faster than light and move between the different parties if they find something. The trees may have information too.” 

“The trees?” the words left your mouth before you could stop them. 

“They don’t say much,” he said, “But they will speak to me.” 

“Jeongin,” Han said to you, “Garden fairy. He’s also our doctor, believe it or not.” 

“And who the hell is she?!” another woman in the crowd asked. 

“That’s a demon!” the elderly miner gasped, taking a few steps back. A couple others did the same, but you did not react to their shock. “Sheriff, Sheriff, did you know you got a demon next to you?”

“I do, and she’s been extremely helpful since she arrived this morning,” Chan said. 

“I told you,” Mayor Wallace hissed at him. “I said they wouldn't take kindly to her.”

“How do you know she ain’t got anything to do with this?” asked Fred, taking a few steps back on his horse. “Their kind eat children!”

“We don’t eat human flesh,” you rolled your eyes, annoyed. “I don’t know what human started that rumor, but demons who still hold up to our code never harm the young.” You briefly recalled the children who’d get lost in the afterlife, and end up in the terrifying Mar. “I’m only here to help,” you said. 

“For some gold, I expect!” 

“And because whoever is doing this is harming children, and children are sacred to my kind,” you replied sharply. “Their souls are pure and precious.” Whenever a lost soul passed through your gates, a demon always took them back over to the heavenly cloud world of Divinity. 

“Get your heads out of the sand,” Changbin said to the group, “She’s good people.”

“How would you know?” the old man asked. 

“Because I've met dangerous people before, and she's dangerous in a different kind of way.”

“That's just her demon magic working on you!”

“Alright, if you don't believe me then let's get someone else's opinion.”

Changbin whistled through two fingers, and from behind the inn came an enormous grizzly bear. Far too big to be a normal bear, you suspected. Honey came right up to Changbin’s feet, sniffing for a scrap of food. It was when she smelled your scent that she moved over to you. Yes, it was silly of you to reach out to a bear, but you put the back of your hand to her wet nose. She gruffed once, nudging your hand with her nose, and then putting her head underneath it for a few scratches. 

“Honey’s never been wrong about anyone before,” Changbin gave them a satisfied smile. 

“Plus, she’s a war hero,” Minho said, “She killed Nor’goth.” 

The name sent a ripple of uneasiness through the crowd. Even you, who defeated him, couldn't help shifting at the words. Skin hard as rocks and dark purple Nor'goth towered several feet above anyone else. Burning orange eyes stared at you with hate as you challenged him. If it weren't for your allies, you may have died trying to defend your people and the mortal world. 

‘I will not suffer your insolence anymore, Multak! Prepare to meet your doom!”

“Is that true?” One man said with wide eyes. 

“It is,” he answered for you. “I don't know about you all,” he said, going down the steps, “But I think it's pretty handy having a demon around.”

An agreement mumbled amongst the townspeople, but you didn't care. “Chan, we're running out of time,” you hissed at him. “The longer we wait, the closer they get to completing their ritual.”

“To do what?”

“What else? Summon a being they have no business summoning,” you said. “It is going to blow up in their faces, and a lot of people can get hurt if we don't get a move on.”

“Alright,” he nodded. 

All the groups split evenly, everyone mounted their horses and began riding out of town. You looked around for Summer, realizing you'd left her at the Seo farm. No matter. You whistled a three note tune, and a burst of fire came from across the square. Summer dashed through the portal, charging past other people and horses to get right in front of you. She kicked the ground, head swishing as the commotion riled her up. Taking her reins, you held her still before mounting her. 

“YN!” Chan rode up to you on a white horse, “You’re with me. We’re checking the Choi mine.”

You gulped thickly, “Isn’t that the, um, spider one?”

“It is…” he then smirked and your cheeks burned, “Is our strong fire demon afraid of itty bitty spiders?”

“They are not ‘itty bitty’ and they’re gross!” 

His laugh made you grumble, and you charged ahead of him. Summer snorted, making you kick her sides lightly. “Hey, I didn’t pick on you about the snakes.” 

Running behind the group headed to the last old mine, you already pictured the eight-legged creatures likely waiting at the end. The old man mentioned that they’ve likely been driven out by the gang, so you clung onto that. Your skin crawled at the idea of having to fight ginormous spiders when a flash of white caught your attention. Chan’s horse, snowy white, came up to you once again. You got a good look at the animal, seeing the shimmer in its white coat and strands of silver streaked through its mane. Rather than fully black, the beast’s eyes glimmered a dark green color. 

How did Chan get his hands on a sea steed? 

“Where’d you get it?” you asked over the clopping feet. 

“What?”

“Your horse! It’s a sea steed! How’d you get it?”

He gave you a proud smile, “My Ma gave it to me!”

“Your Ma?!”

“She's a mermaid! You should meet her sometime!” He added.

“Your mother is a mermaid?!”

“Yeah, from the Southern Sea,” he said. “My Pa worked as a fisherman, and that's how they met.”

“You're a halfling then?”

“That's usually what people call me.” He then turned to you with a grin, “Not all of us halflings are so obvious.”

“What can you do then? Besides gathering search parties and solving crimes,” you smirked at him. For once, you're not the one under scrutiny. 

“Nothing extraordinary really,” he shrugged. “I used to sing whenever I worked on my dad's boat, since the fish would always come to me. But then I felt bad about luring them to their deaths so I stopped. I can breathe underwater…I could live in Hydrus if I wanted.”

“Hydrus?”

“It's the merfolk capital of the world,” he said. “My Ma sits on the city council. She's a healer there and has her own apothecary. She told me I could always come live with her, but I prefer being on land.”

“How come?”

“My Pa mostly,” he answered honestly. “He needs me more than her. She has her family down there; he's only got me and our dog. My sister lives with her, but she and my cousin come to visit sometimes.”

“Your sister?” 

“Hannah. She's got more mermaid than human, so she struggles living on land. Do you…Do demons have families?”

You gave it a thought. “In a way?” You decided, “We have our clan, which is a family. The Keepers are our parents, and everyone your age is a brother or sister; anyone older is an aunt or uncle.”

“Are you allowed to visit home or are you banished or something like that?”

You shook your head, “I can go if I wish. My horns…” you hesitated, “They're what I traded to live here, but I'm not exiled like some of my kin.”

“So, in a way, you fought against your family.”

“I did. I wasn't happy about it, but I did what I had to do.”

You pictured the demons you fought against during your ride. Brothers and sisters, standing on the other side of the field, severed their ties with the Shadowlands and became Nor’goth’s servants. It hurt you to fight them; you'd grown alongside most of them, and saw them as family. But, Sakmarth said those who break their vows are no longer part of the demon realm. You found that easy to understand but hard to carry out. 

The Choi mines happened to be several miles outside of town. Dusk began to set by the time you reached the outskirts of the mine. The trees around gave almost no sunlight. Whatever light did come through broke through the dark leaves in the canopies. The same canopy where you saw the thin, silver strands of webs. Cobwebs hung from the dark branches and stuck to the tree roots at the bottom. Apprehension settled into your stomach seeing them so high. Already, you felt their pincers snapping close to you and their furry legs skittering when they rushed around. However, seeing Chan and the other townspeople getting off their horses, you knew showing fear would disappoint them. You are Multak, fire demon and vanquisher of Nor'goth. You can't be afraid of anything. 

“Mr. Choi,” Chan looked at the wizened old man coming over to him, “What direction do we take from here?”

“Down this dirt path to the end,” he pointed at the path leading further inside. “My family sold the land when those damned tentaculars started nesting there. If the gang's anywhere, it is right here.”

Chan nodded and let him take the lead. He and several others kept their pistols and rifles ready as you carefully moved through the dead forest. One false step or loud twig might send a signal to any beasts in the area. You kept your hands firmly wrapped around the sword handle, doing your best to not tremble. You peered between thick patches of webbing; tricks of light and shadows created long legs and thick bodies creeping behind the silvery webs. There’d be no way for the gang to survive in arachnid infested woods; they’d be cocooned and devoured in minutes. Their warlock must have cleared them out; you might run into nothing along the way. At least, that’s how you comforted yourself. 

“I thought demons weren't scared of anything,” Chan teased. 

“I'm not scared.”

“Then why are you shaking?”

“Am not.”

“Don't worry, YN. If a spider comes, I'll kill it for you.”

You rolled your eyes, but the image left you feeling nauseous. Going deeper into the dense forest, you began hearing small cracks of twigs or rustling of leaves on the ground. The clicking and clacking of the tentacular species pinched your ears; you thought you might throw up right there. There used to be dozens back home, and you always avoided their nests. This forest is their ideal environment. 

“Wait,” Mr. Choi whispered, putting up a hand, “I see lights. Yeah, they're right there.”

A glowing orange light broke the darkness of the forest on your left. Everyone turned to see it hiding behind dense bushes and trees. Anxiousness stiffened your bones when you saw thicker webs in the trees above you. They must have scared them off not long ago if the webbing appeared so fresh.

“Fred,” Chan called the burly man, “You take Ryu, Harold and Donny and flank them on the right. Mr. Choi, Samantha, and Jenny will take them from the left.”

“And you, Sheriff?” the woman, Samantha, asked.

“YN and I will draw their attention.”

You hardly heard Chan’s orders. You didn’t keep your eyes off the trees for a moment. Phantom hissing and clicking sent shivers up your spine, leaving you in a cold sweat that wet your palms. Back home, clearing out spider nests or infestations was left to the newest soldiers. Shadowland spiders looked nothing like mortal ones. Their venom burned through flesh and bone, and their pinchers stabbed like sharp knives. You hated them. You pushed them from your memory as Chan encouraged you forward. Steeling yourself, you tried keeping your fears deep in your gut instead of on your face. You’re supposed to be a big, scary demon. You are a demon of the fire clan, a warrior forged from rock and flame; not a baby afraid of a few pests.

Very large pests

Carefully, you both walked towards the firelight. Chan kept his rifle pointed ahead and you kept your sword at the ready. The sounds of chatter and laughter caught your ears first. When you and Chan reached a small bundle of bushes, you crouched down to peek through the foliage.

Around a campfire sat four men. One of them, broad and wide, turned sausages in a skillet over the fire while another, slender and narrow, poured more ale from a barrel nearby. One lounged back against large sacks, his hat over his face and a fourth sat on the floor arranging coins into small piles.

“I got twenty gold here, Suho,” the one with the gold said. “That’s five pieces each. I thought you said Maurice would make us rich! This ain’t rich!”

“The real money’s coming soon,” Suho, turning sausages, said. “After he’s done with those kids, he’ll hand over the rest.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Idiots…” you whispered to yourself. The realization came to you right away, and you shook your head. “They’re the gifts.”

“Gifts?”

“In order to appease Yuth’ik, the summoner has to offer gifts to the god. This warlock did not really need lackeys to kidnap children; they could have done it themselves. They hired these bandits to then hand them over to Yuth’ik.”

“A double-cross…Suho wouldn’t like that.” He thought for a moment, then said, “Follow my lead.”

Chan stepped out through the bushes first, casually walking into the light. You went right after him, eyes sticking to your surroundings. From the rocky face behind them, you guessed they must not be far from the mine entrance.

“Evening, y’all,” Chan said in a friendly tone, “How’re you doing tonight?”

The four men scrambled to their feet. They each reached for a nearby weapon to hold up, but you noticed the shock in their eyes. Only Suho appeared calm and easy.

“Evening, Sheriff,” he replied in a casual tone, “We were just enjoying a nice campfire, some ale and the night time breeze. Care for some?”

“I’m afraid I’ll have to pass. I’m here on sheriff’s business tonight.”

“Is that so?” Suho glanced at his members, who sneered back at him. “That’s a shame,” he cocked his pistol, “Because I’m in the mood for bandit’s business tonight.”

“Do you happen to know anyone named ‘Maurice’, Suho?” Chan took a step forward, unafraid of the gun pointed at him.

“Nah, don't ring a bell, I’m afraid,” Suho shook his head.

“Hm, that’s strange. A little reptile hybrid said you might, and a few friends of mine have been looking high and low for him.” You heard his friendly, polite tone turn serious. “I thought The Hook clan didn’t harm children.”

“We don’t,” he said.

“But the person you’re working for does, and that’s okay by you?”

“I don’t work for anybody but myself,” Suho said.

“Stop with the games, Junmyeon,” Chan cut across him. “I know you and your gang have been kidnapping children from the town. You might be a thieving, no-good outlaw, but I never thought you’d be the type to hurt kids.”

“We don’t have anything to do with that.”

“We have your fingerprints on the trees where Barney Pebbles was taken,” he said. “Who’s Maurice and what is he doing with the kids?”

“I don’t know a ‘Maurice’.”

“Junmyeon…these children could be in serious danger. They’re innocent, and I know you wouldn’t let some psychotic warlock kill them.”

“Again, Sheriff, sorry to disappoint you, but we don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Do you even know the man you're working for, Junmyeon?” 

“I only work for myself, so yeah, I do know the man I work for.”

“Whoever he's summoning tonight is going to expect human sacrifices…and it's not the kids.”

“What'd you mean?” Asked the shortest one, wide eyed and worried. 

“He needs the kids to open the portal, but he has to have gifts to offer the tree god thing. I'm guessing that's you and your boys. Now,” he took another step, “You can tell us where he is and we stop him or you become an ancient being's dinner.”

You heard a small twig snap from somewhere behind you, and every nerve in your body stood on edge. It could either be a friend or a foe. A big, furry, hungry foe. Up in the sky, you saw the russet colors slowly fading to black. You’re running out of time.

“I still don't know what you're talking about,” Suho declared, but not as strongly. 

“-Junmyeon,” Chan came closer, “Don’t make this harder on yourself. Tell me where Maurice is, and you'll be free to move on.”

“Ha, I doubt that. You’ll have me cuffed before I even talk.”

“You're telling me you want to get eaten then?!”

You grunted and walked past Chan into the light. Eyes glaring at him, you let the fire light wash over you to give them a better view. All four men froze in place at the demon standing on the other side of their campfire. The cracking, burning wood crunched under your boots when you kicked their skillet aside and stood in the fire. The burning flames licked up your legs to your thighs, but you hardly felt them. You might as well have stepped into a warm bath. 

“Listen, scumbag,” you growled, making sure he heard it, “Tell us what you know about the warlock and where he is before I pull you into this fire with me.”

Suho, clearly not one to back down easily, pointed his pistol right at you. “Stay away, demon,” he said stiffly, though you could smell the sweat coming through his pores. Fear. Your demonic roots savored the fragrance, “Or I’ll shoot!”

In a swift motion, you reached out and brought the heavy man right to the edge of the fire. High pitched screams followed his panic kicking as flames danced close to his ankles. Suho tried uncurling your fingers from his shirt collar, but to no avail. You bore your eyes into his as you spoke.

“Where is Maurice, human?”

Too afraid of being burned, Suho did not answer you right away. You quickly looked to the men around him, seeing how they’d backed up and away from you. “I asked you a question,” you grunted, lowering him closer to the fire, “Where is he? Where?!”

“Pl-please!”

“Innocent children will have their lives sucked out of their bodies, and you’re standing there refusing to help them?!” You dragged him into the fire at last, though kept him above the lowest of the flames. The sound of running feet told you his members left him behind to be tortured. “Do you know what we do to people who harm children in the Shadowlands? Hm?” You brought him in closer, “We burn them!”

You dropped him into the fire, and Suho screamed hysterically. Rolling away, he rustled around on the ground to put out the tiny flickers on his back. Panting and sweating, the gang leader stared up at you in horror. Most likely because the fires burning inside you had finally reached your eyes. Their mortal hue turned into burning coals, and your fingers itched to set him aflame.

“In the mines!” he screamed, cowering under your fiery gaze. “He’s in the mines! He has his little pets helping him! Please, don’t eat me! Please!”

“Where’s the entrance?”

Suho whimpered, not answering.

“Where’s the entrance?!” you demanded. 

“Tha-th-that-t- wa-ay!”

He pointed to his left, and you nodded. Storming off into the nearby path, you already saw the sky gradually becoming darker and darker. The warlock could start their ritual at any moment.

“Hey!” you heard several pairs of feet coming up behind you, “Hey, what was that?”

Chan came up beside you, but you kept on moving. “Intimidation,” you said, “You weren’t getting answers, and we’re running out of time, so I stepped in.” You smirked over your shoulder, “Nothing makes a man talk more than under the threat of eternal flames.”

“You weren’t going to actually kill him though, right? That…That isn’t how we do things here.”

“Of course not,” you scoffed. “Yes, people like Suho deserve whatever fate they have coming, but when that happens is not up to me.”

“Oh…”

You knew why he asked that. “I’m not that kind of demon, Chan,” you told him, “I might be a demon, but I’m not a thrill killer. I only do it when-”

You stopped at the sight of metal tracks some yards away. The mine entrance was on the other side of them, dimly lit and foreboding. Empty cargo carts sat on the tracks, and you saw crates stacked on top of one another. Whoever worked this mine abandoned it long ago, and several residents had taken it up. All the fire from before extinguished when you saw the gargantuan spiders roaming the area. The stinging sensation of bile crept up your throat, and your skin started crawling again. Big and hairy, most of them varied in colors of white, gray and black. You almost turned back, but knew to do so now would be abandoning the children and also negating any perceived toughness. 

“Kind of hard to intimidate a wild beast, huh?” Chan asked, humored by your weak attempts. “Especially big ones with several pairs of eyes-”

“-Nothing needs that many eyes or that many legs!” you harshly whispered. “How can we get past them?”

“Fire,” Mr. Choi croaked from behind, pulling out a large matchbox. “It’s how my grandfather used to do it back in the day.”

“Works for me,” Chan shrugged, turning back to you, “YN? Would our fire demon like to handle the big nasty spiders?”

You stuck out your tongue at his smug smile. “I’d love to,” you responded pointedly. “Let me show you how it’s done.”

“Please, be my guest.”

He then made a hissing sound that made you punch his shoulder. You knew he was only teasing. Any other time, you’d tease him back but the sight of a spider coming down from the mountain with a bundle between two legs caught your attention. Fire. Warmth and light always scared off nocturnal beasts. 

Taking a step out of the treeline, a prickling sensation went up your legs, most likely the formation of goosebumps all over your body. You searched for a starting point for the flames, which happened to be the light shedding of webs along the tracks. In a single thrust of your hand, a bolt of red-hot fire shot from your palm and onto the metal tracks. 

Like a spark to gunpowder, the fire quickly began spreading. The beasts sensed the fire right away, and scurried away from the light. When one of them spotted you, it screeched loudly and scuttled over to you. With a high scream, your entire body went into a panic and you shot both hands out. Shrieking screams pierced your ears as the flames engulfed the creature, whose cries died out along with a few others. Your comrades, not wanting to miss out, started shooting. Gun blasts added to the fires scaring off the spiders; some of them took several shots while the proper marksmen got them between the eyes. 

“Come on,” Chan took one of your wrists, “Let’s get inside.”

“Inside?!”

You imagined more spiders awaited you in there, “This is no time to be a baby! Let’s go!”

Guiding you through the scorched earth, you kept your eyes peeled for any more spiders, but they’d appeared to have been killed or scared off. You’d gotten right into the entrance when your party came up behind you. 

“There’s more where they came from,” said Mr. Choi, “But don’t you worry. I grew up in this mine. I know it in and out.”

“Yuth’ik is an earth god,” you deduced from research, “He’s likely far underground where there’s roots.”

“I know the right place,” he nodded. 

Chan and Mr. Choi led the group, and you did your best to keep your shaking legs moving normally. Someone came up beside you. 

“You really showed Suho.” It was Fred, carrying his rifle across his chest. “I ain’t ever seen a man scared out of his wits like that before.”

“Being the good cop wasn’t working,” you shrugged, “So I played the bad one.”

“We could have used someone like you when this all started.” Once he realized how that sounded, he recovered, “I mean, the sheriff and his deputies are great at their jobs. It's…Things weren't being done quick enough.”

“I understand,” you said. The amount of webs did not match the spiders outside. There are more of them. “He was doing the best he could with what he had. I'm glad to be of some use here.”

Fred moved to talk again, but the group then stopped. In the spacious coal mine, you saw them right when everyone else did. High above the floor, cocoons hung from the ceiling and stuck to the walls. Bundles long and short were covered in several lengths of sticky webbing. You gulped back the fear burning in your throat, and stepped over to a nearby cocoon. About the average size of an adult, you poked it with your sword. When it didn't move, you looked at Chan with a worried stare. Your suspicions proved true when you cut a hole in the head to see the corpse of a young elf maiden inside. Sickly pale and blue, her paper thin skin and hollowed cheeks suggested she'd died ages ago. 

“How horrible…” Samantha frowned, opening another to find an old man. 

“Donny,” Chan looked at Fred’s farmhand, “Stay here with Samantha and start cutting the bodies down.”

“Harold and I'll keep watch,” Fred said, pulling out a flint to light a nearby stick. 

“Good idea,” he nodded his approval. 

As the other four started removing bodies, the rest of you went further into the mine. It didn't take much longer to reach the heart of the mine, and it was there that you thought you might scream. Dozens of spiders small and large covered the walls, and stood on the ground around a platform of rocks. None of them caught your scent yet, but one false move will have you setting the place on fire in a panic. You flinched when a warm hand grabbed yours. 

“Stay with me,” Chan whispered, his fingers gently taking your wrist this time. “We need to stick together.”

“The kids!” Mr. Choi gasped, pointing at the platform. 

Wrapped from the neck down in white webs, four children wriggled around an archway carved into the stone wall. You heard their sobbing pleas through the unrest amongst the beasts, and you forced out your fears. They needed you. It was then that you finally saw the warlock named Maurice. The top half of his body was a human torso, aged but strong with white hair braided back from his face. The bottom half was a spider's form, eight legs keeping him standing high above the children. That explained why the creatures hadn't killed any of the clan members. 

“My children!” He said, his voice a delicate hiss, “Tonight we bring forth the power of the old magic! We bring forth our salvation! We bring forth our victory!” 

The beasts approved, clicking and clacking in their language. 

“For centuries, mortals have feared our presence! They run from us! They hunt us down and kill us!” He continued, “But tonight, sweet children, the old god Yuth’ik will give us our redemption. We will have our revenge!”

“Ugh, disgusting creature,” Mr. Choi scoffed. “Let's get him-”

“-Not yet,” Chan stilled him with a hand. He scanned the area and shook his head, “There are too many of them. They'll overpower us. We have to be smart about this.”

“Or extremely dumb,” you said, a thought coming to you. “You stay hidden and wait for my signal.”

“YN!” 

Your knees wobbled walking towards the entryway into the main area. A human would be of no concern to the spider hybrid, but a demon from The Mar might keep him distracted. 

“-No more will you cower in your nests, feeding off scraps! You will have fresh meat!-”

“I wouldn't say my meat is fresh!” You shouted over the chatter of the room, “But demons are an acquired taste, I've been told.”

Maurice paused in surprise at the sight of you. Black eyes held you in their gaze. He had four of them. Nobody needed that many eyes.

“Ah,” he grinned, teeth sharp and white, “Here's the demon I've heard so much about. Was it you who harmed my children outside?”

“They were in my way.” 

Confidently, you walked through the horde, which parted to make way for you. Glittering black eyes stayed on you as you moved. Having them all in one place suffocated any fresh winds coming through the tunnel passages. Your skin prickled having them so close to you. You kept a tight grip on your sword at your hip, gripping so tight the pummel dug into your palm. No fear. Show no fear. 

“You know summoning an imprisoned god is against the celestial laws, Maurice,” you continued. “The Blind One doesn't take kindly to people who disobey him. I suggest you release those children and take your spider friends back where they came from.”

Maurice gave a mocking laugh, “As if you could do anything to stop me. Once my ritual is complete, no mortal alive could stop me.” 

He turned away from you to face the archway. “You'll have to give him something in return,” you said, “And be in servitude to him for life. I don't think you want to be someone's puppet, do you?”

“I will do anything I must,” he said. “I shall be the ultimate supreme lord. Everyone will bow down to me or suffer the wrath. The weak mortals you so eagerly helped will be scum beneath my feet.”

“Please, help us!” A red-haired girl with leaves in her hair cried. Sanghee, no doubt. “Help us!”

“Please!” said the werecat Hyeyoung. 

“He's going to kill us, please help!” pleaded a blond boy with concurved ears. “Help! I want to go home!”

“Silence!” Maurice shouted angrily over his shoulder. 

He lifted his head towards the arch and began muttering the incantation. It brought forth a vortex of black and blue, and gradually a white light broke through. You gasped at the recognizable swirls of The Abyss. Unrest rippled throughout the horde, who'd begun moving away as the portal opened. 

“Children,” the warlock called out to the spiders, “Dinner.”

You screamed as several spiders hurried towards you, some clawing over others to reach you. Fear and panic set inside you again, and erupted on its own. Bursts of fire cracked and burned the ground around your feet, keeping a protective circle as you started launching fireballs at any beast in sight. 

‘Bulgakgan!’

Flames shot out continuously from your hands, and as you moved in a clockwise circle, spiders were incinerated. One minute there, the next a stumbling ball of fire. Sensing a greater foe, the rest of the spiders began crawling away. This boosted your confidence significantly, and you switched to your sword. With another command, the dragonfire runes on your sword burned red and heated up the steel blade. Swinging and slashing the air, the spiders burned from the flaming steel alone. You hardly noticed the grunting and struggling occuring on the platform above you. 

Chan was locked in a struggle with Maurice. He blocked the hybrid's long legs with his arms, then gave a swift kick to the steady legs on one side. Maurice shot bolts of gray and black shadow magic at him. One barely grazed his bicep, and you heard his loud painful cry. Maurice, believing him finished, sent more shadow bolts at him just as Chan rolled away. Getting onto his feet, you watched through your own fight as Chan turned around. Mr. Choi, holding his own against his own foes, tossed him a rifle. Maurice chuckled right as Chan raised his weapon. 

“For Levanter Bay!” 

You heard the war cry from behind you. Fred, Samantha and Donny appeared, sweating and fueled with adrenaline as they covered the front entrance. A gunshot bounced off the walls, though the thick webs kept the sound suppressed. Chan's bullet missed, which amused Maurice, who curved his hands until more dark matter materialized between his palms. Chan quickly reloaded, but Maurice rushed at him. With another shadow bolt, he knocked Chan squared in the chest and launched him back several feet. 

You hurled a fireball at his legs, causing him to fall against the wall. This split second diversion was all Chan needed to shoot a bullet into Maurice's forehead from the ground. Their leader defeated, propped up by his legs, the other spiders disappeared from battle up through ceiling tunnels leading further into the mountain. You took deep breaths, heart pounding in your chest as you rushed over to Chan's side. 

“Chan, are you alright?” you asked, looking him over. 

The shadow bolt singed his shirt, the black mark vibrant against his chest, but otherwise no blood. It hadn't gone through completely. 

“Thick skin,” Chan winced through a laugh. “Merfolk side, they say.”

You both stood up on shaking legs, “Still, shadow magic is nothing to sniff at. You need to get that checked out.”

“Yes, ma'am,” he saluted halfheartedly. 

The thought of Chan being mortally wounded by shadow magic came to you. You'd grown to like Chan. You felt glad for his merfolk blood. His eyes glimmered even in the dim torch light, and his soft smile warmed your cheeks. You turned from him to see Mr. Choi cut the children out of their cocoons. To avoid more butterflies, you started helping him. 

“Papa!” 

Barney Pebbles ran to his father the second you freed him, weeping and reaching out before the man embraced him tightly. The other children took comfort in the adults who'd saved them. 

“Sheriff Bahng!” Dobin, furry with a black snout, ran over to him, “I knew you'd come! I told everyone you'd come for us!”

“Of course I did.” Chan hugged him and patted his back. “Your parents have been worried to all hell about you. Let's not keep them waiting.”

“Or stick around for more of those things!” You added, shuddering and sheathing your blade. 

The rest agreed and walked with you out of the mine. You took in deep breaths of fresh air, feeling the breeze cool down your body. Heat never bothered you, but it still felt nice to fan your flames. You watched Barney and Fred riding back on his horse, the young boy protected by his arms. Being raised in The Mar by the warrior fire clan, people thought your clan were cruel. In fact, it'd been the opposite. You sat on your horse, remembering the time an air demon healer soothed your cries after a particularly nasty spar in the yard. 

“Ma'am?” Hyeyoung sat on Samantha's horse, tearful and shivering. “Are you a real demon?”

“Yes, I am.”

“But demons are supposed to be mean.”

“I'm only mean to the bad guys.”

She grinned at this, but said nothing else as she leaned into Samantha's embrace. When you reached the main road, you caught up with Minho and Han towards town. Minho found nothing at his mine, and Han only ran into vagrants with nowhere to live. What you really anticipated was the missing children with their parents. Word spread about your mission while you'd been gone, and as you rode to the town square, all four children rushed to their parents. Cries of joy and smooching kisses reached your ears, and it brought warmth into your chest. 

“Oh, thank god!” Mayor Wallace appeared from the school house building, which doubled as a meeting hall apparently. He hustled over to Chan, “Chan, Chan, thank goodness you came back safely! And you got the children back too!”

“It wasn't all my doing, Gerald,” Chan insisted, dismounting his horse. “I had help.”

Mayor Wallace looked at you once more. You expected words of suspicion or caution, but instead he held out his hand, “Thank you, YN. We wouldn't have our children back if you'd not stepped in on time.”

“I was only doing my job, sir.”

“And a fantastic one you did.” 

Someone called him from afar, and he excused himself. The weight of the battle, using your own magic, and the adrenaline wore you down. The hazy feeling of exhaustion came over you  within minutes. You looked on the townspeople being reunited with friends and loved ones fondly, similar to scenes you'd come across during the war. The fear of the past few weeks lifted at the return of the four children. Taking a seat outside The White Pearl, you continued observing them. 

Nor’goth used to claim that humans were selfish beings that knew nothing of loyalty. They were animals that killed each other needlessly. The people of Levanter Bay proved him wrong. The mortal world proved him wrong. When the tides grew high and the odds stacked against them, mortals banded together under one flag. They created The Allies, and stood as one against a common enemy. The Shadowland cities did no such thing until the war, and Sakmarth liked to say mortals had much to teach them. You couldn't help being in awe of them at that moment. 

“Hey there, Honey,” you said kindly as the bear waddled up the steps towards you. She sniffed your palm once more, then licked it. “You should've mentioned you liked spiders. I would've brought back some legs.”

“They're too boney and don't have enough meat for her.”

With the pet came its tamer. Changbin stood at the door a foot away, leaning on the frame. 

“She usually eats salmon or roots and berries I pick up on my hunts,” he took a seat beside you to watch the community. “You really pulled it off, huh?”

“You doubted I would?”

“Not for a minute,” he shook his head, “But it's amazing. The kids are saying you had a flaming sword?”

“It's a rune blade.”

“Interesting,” he nodded thoughtfully. “You'll make big money off of this. Saving children from a spider hybrid must be-Haha, what's with the shudder?”

“I hate spiders,” you grumbled. “Why did it have to be spiders?”

He laughed and patted your back, “Come inside, hero. We cooked up a feast to celebrate. You look like you could use a drink or two too.”

“Good, I'm starving!” 

You went inside with him to find tables of food laid out. You went in right away, sneaking apples to give to Summer later on. As you tore into a chicken leg, Han and Minho appeared in front of you with their own plates.

“Spider hybrid, huh?” Minho sniffed, “I suppose we were wrong about the human warlock theory.”

“Very,” you nodded, taking a huge bite of your chicken leg before turning it over. “He hardly got a chance to summon Yuth’ik.”

“Chan said you got there in the nick of time,” Han said, forking mashed potatoes into his mouth. “He said he might have gotten killed if you hadn't come along.”

“And that he inherited his mother's skin,” Minho sipped an ale cup before saying, “Well done, Multak. I told you we'd have this thing finished by supper.”

You both grinned at one another before digging into your supper.

****

The festivities carried on through the night into morning. You crashed into your bed upstairs and passed out instantly. When you left your room for the common area downstairs the next morning, you were met with applause. This reaction startled you, But not as much as the praise. 

“Thank you, YN!” Fred Pebbles came over from the bar and lifted you into a bear hug. “From me and mine, thank you!”

“Woah, okay!” You laughed out your surprise. 

“We mean it,” Wilma walked up from behind him, holding out something to you. “Here, take this as a thank you.”

Made of pure tiger's eye, someone engraved the blazing sun into the small charm. It hung from a thick string that glistened in the sunlight.

“It's a tiger's eye,” she explained. “My people wear certain stones for different things. This charm will protect you on future quests.”

“Appreciated, Matriarch.”

She smiled at the elvish title. “No, thank you. Barney is our only son. When we heard he'd been taken, we thought he'd be dead for sure. It was by the light's grace that you showed up when you did.” You saw her watery eyes and hugged her tightly.

It then occurred to you that The Pebbles' weren't the only ones with tokens of gratitude. When Wilma and Fred left, the other parents met you outside. Sanghee’s grandmother gifted you a valerian plant, meant to bring strength and knowledge to you. Dobin's father and mother gave you a wolf tooth, a special gift given to allies of specific werewolf packs; Hyeyoung's werecat parents did something similar with a cat claw. But, it was the children who warmed you the most. 

“There's the demon lady!” Dobin said from across the square. 

They'd all been standing in the middle of the market with Han, who smiled at you. “Well, go on,” he encouraged, “Jump her.”

You flinched at the gaggle of children coming your way. They didn't jump on you, but they surrounded you. 

“Do you really have a flaming sword?”

“Can you make people turn into dust?”

“Hyeyoung said you set the spider man on fire!”

“Ms. Demon Lady, did you die?!”

You didn't know which one to answer first. However, their barrage of questions ended when Chan appeared. 

“Come on now,” he said, shepherding them away, “Don't crowd YN. You got school.”

The children groaned in disappointment, but still walked away. You fixed your jacket on your shoulders, watching them going towards the schoolhouse. Most people you helped handed you the money, and then sent you on your way. The people in those towns usually didn't know you'd helped them at all; they only cared when their own people rushed into danger. Yet, the cold reception you received when you arrived turned warm and friendly. 

“You've become pretty popular around here,” Chan told you. “You're all the kids have been talking about.”

“And clearly their opinion is the only one that matters,” you smiled in amusement. “How are the kids doing?”

“They're still shaken up, since, you know, a spider hybrid kidnapped them and planned on sacrificing them to a tree god,” he answered, “But they're happy to be back home. Thanks to you.”

“And you,” you added. “How's your chest? That bolt hit you pretty bad.”

“Minho took care of it for me,” he shrugged, though you noticed the slight wince when he did. “It just stings. Nothing to worry about.” He then fished in his pocket to withdraw a leather pouch, “The mayor wanted me to pass this onto you. Your payment.”

You opened the pouch to see dozens gold and silver coins in the bottom of the bag. With an approving nod, you already budgeted what amount went to what expense. 

“So, um, where do you plan to go now?” Chan asked you, hands in his pockets as he walked with you to the stables behind the White Pearl. “You can always pick up other jobs around here. Someone always needs help. Mrs. Young still has a boar problem; she says they keep eating her cabbages. I didn't know they even ate cabbage,” he added with a soft laugh. 

You chuckled, coming up to Summer's stable. Your horse kicked the ground gently, a greeting. “As tempting as Mrs. Young's boars sound, Summer and I were planning on heading to the capital.” You pet Summer's snout, smiling softly as she huffed. “Don't worry. We'll take a ferry there.”

Chan stayed silent, then said, “Um, that might be a problem.”

“How come?”

“The ferry isn't running right now,” he said, thumbs hooked in his pockets. “Our local sea serpent has been seen close to the bay, and the King declared the ferry closed to keep people safe. You know these sea monsters. They like knocking boats over and eating people.”

“The King said this?” You faced him, arms crossed in disbelief. “I didn't hear anything about that.”

“It came in an hour ago,” he said. “Private government papers and other boring stuff. The damn thing nearly swallowed a whole navy ship, so imagine a little transport ferry. Psh, they'd stand no chance.”

Not once did you ever hear a royal decree not being posted or spoken about anywhere. Looking over Chan, you noticed the slight curls in his black hair, pushed back from his face and left to grow out. Brown eyes looked at you with a twinkle of hope inside them. You supposed you could stay a little bit longer. It isn't as if you had important business anywhere else. Levanter Bay did not seem to be a terrible place; the sunshine is something to be desired, but the people were actually nice. You touched the tiger's eye necklace you'd been given, as if rubbing it might produce an answer. 

“I guess we can hang around here,” you said casually. “What do you think, Summer?” You asked your horse, “Want to hang around here for a bit?” You laughed when she grazed on the hay inside a feed bag. “I guess that's a ‘yes’.” 

“Great,” Chan grinned. “That's really great.”

“Looks like you're in luck then,” you walked up to him, casually, “You'll have someone help your station get out from under the bounties up on that board.”

“I'm not proudful. We could use a demon in this town. Except, maybe one that doesn't burn down a whole cave because of a few spiders.”

“There were more than ‘a few’,” you punched his shoulder, but he only laughed. “There were hundreds, and I took out a good amount before everyone else joined in. I noticed you, Sheriff, didn't fight any spiders.”

“I was fighting the biggest one!”

The two of you talked about Maurice and his disgusting army on the way back to the inn. You had enough gold to buy you food and board at the inn, and you actually liked Changbin and Honey didn't scare Summer. 

It's not such a bad place after all. 

***

A/N: Wow, my first Stray Kids fic (well, a real one. The last one doesn't count too much to me). I hope you guys really enjoyed this one! I have one for each of the members coming up soon! Like, comment, and reblog! it keeps posts alive <3

Episode 2 >

#stray kids #bang chan #han jisung #seo changbin #yang jeongin #kim seungmin #lee felix #lee minho #hwang hyunjin #stray kids fanfic #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids fantasy au #bang chan x reader #chan x reader #chan x female reader

[bokettochild]

if you want to pair wind with someone in "you weren't supposed to get hurt" how about complete the war trio pairings and give him and time some bonding. you have one of wars and time and wind and wars bonding so why not complete the trio?

Consider it done! No, like, actually consider it done, because I finally did do it T-T

Since you asked for me to complete the War Trio, it is Mask and not Time, but minor details, yeah? It's the same person in the long run.

Rating: General

Wordcount: 4,905

Summary: Tired of the new intruder, Mask turns to desperate measures to reclaim his personal space from the other so called hero that Link's become so taken with. Things do not go as planned. Or...well, sort of?

-

  He didn’t ask for this. 

  No, seriously, Mask had never asked for this situation to ever come about. He's sort of given up asking anyone for anything at this point. The goddesses didn’t answer when he wanted to go back, to live the life he had finally begun to grow into, to see the kingdom he had saved and all the friends he had made and the world that was familiar even if it was damaged. No one listened to his wishes when he wanted to go home, only to find that the forest will no longer welcome even his child form. He’s tried; he can’t find the grove, or his siblings, or anything of his old life. Navi didn’t listen when he asked her to come back, and whatever powers existed in Termina didn’t listen when he begged for just one day to rest, or a bit of help, or really any bit of aid that didn’t cost him something. 

  Help doesn’t come for the asking. People only do things for you if they can get something out of it. Life is transactional, and for that reason alone at least, he finds he can respect the strange bunny merchant who’s joined their camp. At least Ravio makes no secret of what he wants, and unlike people who dance around the subject or expect him to know, Ravio states his terms point blank. 

  Link does not.  

  The captain is hard to read, hard to understand. He’s the hero, so maybe he can give without getting and maybe he can serve without reward, but that only counts when it’s for the kingdom. No one asked him to reach out to the displaced figures transported through time, to try and befriend them and make them feel at home. There’s no advantage to him doing so, no payout, and it just doesn’t track. Still, Captain Link tries, and he’s succeeding too. Even despite all attempts to keep the man out, he’s somehow made it past Mask’s defenses with that warm smile and the twisting of his own mother tongue.  

  Maybe it’s the spark of familiarity in those blue eyes. They glitter and gleam like Navi did, and the fae-speak that this mortal hylian man can somehow understand and respond in, scolding and commanding, but also assuring and offering warmth, makes him feel almost at home. Maybe it’s the magic though. He doesn’t think Captain Link knows, but he can feel the tendrils of warmth and strength, a protective magic that weaves over camp as the captain walks and inspects; not unlike a spider spinning a web. It’s different from the Deku Tree’s magic, but similar too. The signature of the setter is the only real change, and the warmth and security of at last being able to bask in that web of safety maybe is the reason he lowers his guard.  

  That’s how the man got in, lulling him into safety and familiarity, a whisper of those lost in that perfect smile, and then Mask was trapped. 

  Love is a dangerous thing, but somehow this man has managed to get ahold of his heart anyways, and he’s holding onto it with such warmth and kindness, protecting it so carefully, that there’s really nothing the once-again-child hero can do, only surrender and accept his defeat. 

  He didn’t ask for Captain Link to adopt him, but he never opposed it either. 

  Maybe he would have, but the man had sat him down and explained that the reason wasn’t because they found him incapable, and that it was still very much his own choice, but that without an assigned guardian who would take charge of keeping an eye on them, all children displaced across time would be sent to the countryside to stay on farms, out of the way of the danger, at least until the war was over. If he wanted to stay, he had to agree to let an adult become his guardian, and Link had offered his own services for his consideration. 

  Saying ‘no’ wasn’t really an option. If he wanted to help, he needed to say ‘yes’. Besides, maybe having some tangible proof that someone wanted him around, was tied to him in some way, was nice. It wasn't a Claim like fairy’s laid, but in the way of Hylians, it was really somewhat similar. He became Link’s son, and while the captain never pressured him to see it that way, there’s a small part of him that finds pride in that. 

  Now if only Link hadn’t done the same thing for the blasted sailor. 

  Link has a soft spot for kids, and that much is clear. He’s accepted that Mask is older in mind than body, but it’s clear that the child-like appearance does get the better of the man and make him forget at times, and it shows. Also, busy as he is, Link always makes time for all their youngest members of camp, making sure they are handling the events around them well. He’s had help, of course, since Marin and Ravio both make an effort to check in on everyone for him at times, and the island girl in particular is very good at handling them all, including him. Mask blames that weakness on the fact that she looks a little like Malon did when they were adults. 

  Even with all his duties though, it’s clear the captain finds solace in the presence of children, and privately, Mask does think that, maybe once the war is over, Link should settle down and start a family. For now, he doesn’t mind that the man who adopted him likes to be around the actual kids in the camp, letting Agatha talk his ears off about insects and entertaining Skull-kid's games and tricks.  No, in a way, he finds it cute how much Link cares about them. 

  The problem is the sailors. Tetra isn’t so bad; she’s fun and clever and good at what she does. Impa’s taken charge of keeping an eye on her, for reasons that she won’t explain, so there’s no worry about Link trying to take her in. Her hero companion is a different story though. 

  Because Link is the one everyone calls when there’s a newly dropped outsider discovered, he’d been there when they’d found the sailor folk. Because the captain has a bleeding heart, he’d immediately offered a place to stay in his own tent for the younger hero, which is all well and good to start with, because Link is nothing if not hospitable. No, the problem isn’t that Link had invited Tune, it’s that Tune doesn’t go away. 

  What, for a short time, had been his and Link’s space, suddenly has another person in it. Where Link is content to sit quietly and work at their respective tasks, Tune chatters. Where Link will, at the least, humor him about being an adult, Tune flat out doesn’t believe him. Everything he’s just begun to get used to is suddenly changing! He can’t lower his guard anymore, and if he wants to cuddle up to the man who’s legally his father, he can’t without someone seeing and taking it as proof that he’s a child, or that he’s soft or weak or some other offensive presumption.  Worse than that though, is that Link treats Tune with the same warmth and kindness that he does Mask, and try as he might to deny it, it’s become increasingly clear that he can’t stand that. 

  So yeah, Mask is jealous. 

  He doesn’t like to admit it, but he is, and he doesn’t like that Tune tromps all over everything he was just making for himself and pushes himself into the space that had finally started to feel like home. His relationship with Link is a treasure, and Tune is trying to be part of it, and Link is just letting him! Link took him in, took guardianship over him and now he says that that makes the two of them brothers. 

  Mask has had brothers before. He doesn’t want new ones. He’s still getting over not ever getting to see the ones he used to have ever again, still getting used to the idea that maybe in their own way, they’d actually felt something for him, despite all the bullying and mockery. He doesn’t want another older brother, one who doesn’t believe him about anything he says and who, worse yet, Link looks at with respect. 

  There's no shortage of warmth and fondness in Link’s eyes when they turn on him, but when turned on Tune, there’s suddenly some sense of equality, of respect. Tune offers advice and Link takes it, Tune offers help and Link accepts, Tune tells Link to put his things down and rest for a bit and Link does. Mask doesn't have advice or suggestions or really any concept of how to help the man who’s taken him in besides killing monsters. He can’t do anything or give anything back to the person who’s giving him everything, and here Tune shows up and shows him up! Giving and giving and giving and making Mask look like some pathetic mooch! Well, no more! He doesn’t want to have the other around, so maybe it’s time to let that on! 

  The insults and fighting just stress Link out and saying point blank that he doesn’t want the other boy in their tent just makes the captain sigh and sit them down and explain things and beg them to just try and co-exist. The number of times he’s said that he ‘isn’t asking them to be friends, but just to please get along, or just ignore each other’, is getting ridiculous. Yet, every time, Tune nods and smiles and, like the goody two shoes he is, promises to do his best, apologizing for stressing Link out. 

  He’s such a suck up, honestly! Mask can’t stand it! 

  So, instead of involving Link, instead of letting the hylians handle things their way, Mask is going to take the fairy approach to getting this kid out of his space.  

  It’s not hard to figure out. Skullkid, like always, is down for a bit of mischief, and the fairies he presents with his situation agree to be of aid in any way they can. It won’t affect anybody else. He’d had to steal something out Tune’s bag so that the fairies could get a handle on his magical signature, but that’d been easy enough, and the fairies were well willing to help once he’d bribed them with sugar that he’d snitched from the mess tent.  

  Now though, he can walk back to the tent knowing that no matter what Tune does, he’ll get lost trying to find it. It’s the same magic from the woods, less strong, since it’s not done by the Deku Tree, but it’s only supposed to work on one person anyways, so it doesn’t need to be that strong, just strong enough to make sure Tune can’t get back in. Except, much to his disappointment, the only result is that the older boy just follows Link around instead! So, when it’s late, he only has to keep an eye on the captain, and thus is still there, every night, humming and talking as dinner is made and eaten, and even afterwards sometimes. Gone is the silence they used to share, filled instead with the voice of the ‘brother’ he never asked for. 

  So, he tries again. He asks the fairies, he asks Midna, he even tries talking to Ravio to ask him if maybe, somehow, there’s something in the merchant’s wares that could fend off unwanted persons from someone’s space. 

  “Bees,” the merchant responds, sighing. “Wards and runes too, but those are tricky to lay if you’re not practiced, and unfortunately, I’m not. Mister Hero keeps bees though, and nothing and no one can get at his home without first having to get through them.” There’s a shiver that follows those words, a full body one that makes the rabbit ears of the hood bounce and sway. “Awful, horrid little devils they are!” 

  Were they in the woods, he’d start gathering hives and fostering bees all around the area, or at least try and learn how. They’re not in the woods though, and Captain Link likely won’t appreciate having a hive anywhere near his tent. Midna suggested getting a dog, but when he’d explained why he wanted it, she’d told him she couldn’t help any further. 

  “I don’t want any part in a sibling tiff,” she’d declared, and he hadn’t had time to explain that they weren’t siblings before she’d flickered off to another part of camp, most likely to pester Marin. 

  So, he tries again, and again, and tries everything he can think of, but even with all that he’s still left with an unwanted presence in their tent and evenings that are too loud and food too spicy. He wants Tune gone; not dead, that wouldn’t be right, but out of his hair and his space and away from himself and Link would be nice. Why, oh why couldn’t someone else have taken in the other supposed hero? But no, Link and his bleeding heart just had to take him, and now Mask suffers the consequences of it! 

  Well, no longer! Because Skullkid has a solution! 

  “A trap!”   

  “A trap?” He’s fond of the kid, very much so, but he’s not sure how smart the guy is. “Buddy, I’ve tried that.” 

  “You tried a magic trap,” Skullkid corrects, giggling, “but magic only works on magic. You’re working like a fairy against a hylian! You need to use hylian skills to stop a hylian!” 

  “Explain...” 

  “Hylians are bad at magic, very dumb sometimes.” The hat of the skullkid bobs with a knowing nod as he speaks, smile conspiratory. “He doesn’t know you’re trying to get rid of him. You need to leave no question about it! Trap him, then, after some time, come get him out! You can tell him he owes you for rescuing him, or that you set it, but you can trap him and make him realize he’s not so great!” 

  Technically, there are so many ways in which it wouldn’t work, but he’s already tried so much, so it’s worth a shot. Skullkid is willing to help with the rigging of it too, with just enough magic to stop the thing going off on anyone else, and employing the spell already on the tent. The older boy will end up at the back rather than the front, and when he does, he’ll fall into a rather deep hole that is spelled so no one will hear him until Mask or Skullkid come to see how he’s doing. It’s no harm done, just a quick scare and a moment to really drive home that staying in their tent is really not worth all the trouble he has to go through to do so. 

  For the first time in a long time that night, he manages to get Link to himself for a bit. Just quiet, dinner, no chatter, no spicy food, no blabbering and humming hero boy who doesn’t respect his space. 

  And then Link starts to worry. “Where’s Tune?” 

  He shrugs. “With Marin? They hang out a lot.” It’s not a lie. “Maybe he’s staying with her instead.” 

  Link shakes his head, face creasing up in a frown. “No, no, he would have told me.” With that, the man moves to stand, already grabbing for his sword and shield, things he never lets out of reach even when sleeping. “I’m going to go look for him. Stay here, in case he comes back on his own.” 

  Because Link is too tired to have realized the presence of the spell that keeps his other charge from being able to find the tent. He just thinks Tune follows him around, and he’s not all wrong either. Honestly, that’s probably one of the worst ways that plan had backfired, since it meant those two spent more time around each other. But no more!  

  The moment Link is out of the tent and out of sight, all smiles for his men even if his brow is tense, Mask is darting out and around the back, headed towards their trap. 

  Sure enough, Tune is inside. Dirty, tears on his face and cradling an arm that even past his green tunic, Mask can see is horrbly swollen. 

  “Shit.” 

  “Language,” the older answers, as if on reflex, before starting and staring up at him. “Wait, Mask?” 

  He wanted to smirk here, to crow a little at the stupidity it would take to get here, but Tune looks so pathetic, and pained. He’s not supposed to look pained. “Yeah...” 

  “Oh thank the seven!” Blue-green eyes dart skywards. “Someone set a trap by the captain’s tent! I’ve been calling for hours now, but no one’s come!” There’s a hardness in those eyes, a set to the jaw and brows that echoes the captain’s but a moment ago. “I’m glad Link wasn't the one to find it, but we need to tell him about this! If someone’s setting traps in camp, everyone is at risk!” 

  Something in his stomach curls and twists uncomfortably as he looks down at that determined face, streaked with tears and mud, yet still, the other boy is focused more on the men, the captain, and everything other than himself. He’s not even realized this was for him. Worse still- 

  “You’re hurt.” 

  A wince follows the words, although it tries desperately to be a smile. “Yeah. I think I broke my arm when I fell. Where’s Link?” 

  “Looking for you.”  

  He broke his arm. He got hurt. That wasn't part of the plan! He was supposed to get upset, but not...not... Mask’s not sure what he wants here, but this isn’t it. He got Tune hurt. Not just scared, not just lost, not just feeling stupid, but really actually hurt! 

  The sailor groans. “We have to tell him about this.” 

  “Do we?” 

  “Yes?” Like it’s a no brainer, like it’s obvious. “Someone set a trap in camp, Mask. One by his tent! That’s kind of a big deal!” 

  He knows that, but he doesn’t say it. He didn’t want Link involved though, and now Tune will pull him in and there will be a ruckus, because no one would guess that it was the sailor who was the target. Tune isn’t anyone worth targeting, not when Link is right there! 

  “But what if it wasn’t for him?” 

  “Who the-” and he cuts himself off, because Tune sees him like a child, treats him like a child, and refuses to swear in front of him, even though he knows perfectly well that the sailor’s got a mouth filthier than his own. Not for any lack of trying on his part, but Navi never let him stick around when people were using foul language, and he’d never gotten the chance to learn many words. Not in Hylian anyway. “Who would it be for then?” Because he knows too, he knows they aren’t good targets. Mask can’t tell him the truth though.  

  “Someone else?” It sounds desperate, een despite all effort to not. 

  “Who else-” and he sees something flicker, like lightning almost, in those sea storm eyes. “Did you do this?” 

  The accusation stings, but it’s also a sharp blade of truth, and it breaks the dam he didn’t even know was building up. “You weren’t supposed to get hurt!! I just...I- You- I don’t want you around!” 

  A slow blink, a heavy, deep, dangerous breath, like a dragon about to breath fire, but no flames, no words, emerge. Tune just stares, eyes stormy and cheeks red and shoulders stiff, and Mask feels himself beginning to cower just slightly as guilt mixes with the anger stirring up inside him. 

  He feels the need to explain himself, yet also the wish to shout and scream and rage at the intruder who disturbed the life that was finally beginning to settle. He’s not sure what exactly he’s feeling most, but it’s making his heart pound and hands sweat as he stands over the hold in the ground and the hero inside. It twists inside as he watches Tune watch him with dangerous eyes, all while cradling his broken arm. The words don’t come. The words won’t come, and he can’t decide whether he wants them too or not, just finds himself staring as Tune breathes, heavy and harsh for a while before finally mustering himself, forcibly calm, and turning sea-green eyes up towards him again. 

 “You set a trap.” 

  He doesn’t answer. 

  Tune doesn't wait for one. “For me. You tried to trap me, and leave me here for, what? An hour, a couple?” 

  He clenches his hands into fists, heart racing and face twisting up in the same way his stomach does; painful and confusing. 

  “Why?” The sailor blinks up at him. “What on earth did I do?” 

  You took from me, he wants to say. You took away my safe space, you made it yours. You broke what I found and made it what you wanted. You shoved yourself in where you didn’t belong and made me feel out of place. “You stole Link.” 

  For a moment, the other flounders, like a fish out of water, and then his voice explodes with a sharp “What?” 

  “You took Link!” He says it firmer this time. “We were fine, happy almost. I was happy! And then you came in and changed things and you- you-” he kicks at a clump of dirt on the edge of the pit, watches it roll away and crumble like he wishes the complicated feelings inside of him would do. “You took him away.” It’s softer the second time, just a whisper, a weak little thing that he hates. 

  “You’re jealous?” The anger is gone now, just...confusion in that face. “Are- are you seriously just... jealous?” 

  “No!” 

  And Tune stares, blinking up at him, bewildered. “You’re jealous. You, who Link thinks the world of and adores like his own son, are jealous.” 

  “I am his son!” Where in the world did that come from?!?!?! 

  A sigh and the shake of the head. “Okay, get me out. We’re going to talk.” Before he can resist, that stormy sea stare turns up to him again, warning. “If you don’t want me telling Link what you did, then we talk it out without him.” 

  “Gonna be hard to hide it,” he mumbles, even as, reluctantly, he offers a hand to help get the other out. It’s not that deep, the magic is really the only thing keeping Tune there, and now that he’s here, it dissipates quite easily, not halting the older boy’s climbing out at all. “Your arm’s going to give it away.” 

  “Help me set it,” is the easy answer. “I can down a potion and Link will be none the wiser.” 

  Mask stares. “You’re not going to tell him?” 

  Those deep eyes roll, a heavy puff of air escaping chaffed lips. “I mean, I can if you really want. I’ll tell him you got jealous and trapped me in the ground and that I broke my arm while falling down and-” 

  “Okay, okay! I get it! I’ll help.” 

  He does too. They both go back to the tent, and with a fair bit of struggle, they manage to set the broken arm just like Link’s shown them how, tying it to a splint made of a wooden spoon to hold it until the potion takes effect. The moment they’re done though, he’s stuck under that Stare again. It's not nearly as bad as Link’s, but it isn’t fun either.  

  “Alright, so, what made you think  trap was a good idea?” 

  And... and... he tells him. It all sort of bleeds out in a messy amount of word vomit; the frustration and anger and everything. How he’s not keen on having a brother, how he didn’t get a choice or a warning, how its not fair! And Tune just listens, digesting the words quietly as though they aren’t mean and spiteful, as though he doesn’t sound like Mido when he says them. If Saria could see him now she’d be shaking her head, sad and sorry, probably wondering how he turned out like such a rotten little thing even after how hard she tried to teach him to be good and kind. It’s only when he finishes that the sailor says anything, and even then, it’s not even angry. 

  “I get it.”  

  He wants to scream that no, no one does!  

But the sailor smiles, a crooked, sad thing. “Change sucks.”  

 The words hit home. Like they’re everything he was trying to say but couldn’t, and he just finds himself nodding in answer. 

  “I’m sorry I stress you out, but look at it from my perspective,” stormy eyes are clearing, gentling, like a cool and flat lake, “I don't have anywhere else to go either.” 

  “Someone else could take you!” 

  A shrug. “Yeah, they could. But no one else wants to. You’re not the only one who doesn’t want me taking up their space. Not that I blame them; if I was you I’d probably be pretty pissed too, but yeah. Anywhere else, I’m going to be treated like a child, like a kid, not like a hero who knows what he’s doing, who killed Ganon, who did stuff that they’ll never really get. Link doesn’t even get it yet, he’s not there, but he’s the closest I’ve got to someone who knows what it’s like to live our life.” 

  Mask pauses. “Our life?” 

  And there’s that blasted smile again. “Yeah. You? Me? We’re heroes. We beat Ganon, we won, and we went home afterwards. It changes you a lot, and I don’t think most people get that, which is good, because that means they never had to deal with the shit we have, but it does make it hard to find people who understand you. Honestly, I was really excited to hear there were other heroes here, because I hoped maybe we could...” and there’s a faint flush back to the sailor’s cheeks again. He’d already downed the potion, he’s not crying anymore, and there’s no pain or anything, but he’s steadily getting redder.  

  “Spit it out already.” He doesn’t mean it to come out harsh, but it does, huffing out as he keeps his arms folded tight in front of him. 

  Tune sighs. “I hoped maybe I’d find a friend. Someone who really understands.” 

  “Must suck, huh?” 

  Another shrug, a tip of the head. “Yeah. But I get it if you don’t want to. I did intrude on your space, and I am sorry for that. I wish you’d told me it was bothering you though, instead of trapping me like a wild pig.” He has no clue what that means, but he lets it pass, for now. “We could just have sat down and talked about it. You say you’re an adult, right? Well, adults talk about shit that makes them upset, so we can do that instead of...whatever that was.” 

  And it’s not perfect, not friendly and not warm and not a sweet sappy thing like maybe Tune would have wanted, but they do talk. There’s a lot of prodding and pushing, and a lot of yelling, but eventually, they work out something. No one agrees to leave, but lines are drawn. Tune agrees to keep his spices away from Mask and only share if Link asks (which he probably won’t, considering it’s Link). Mask agrees to keep his traps and tricks to himself. If one of them is in the tent, the other needs to make sure it’s okay to come in, unless it’s time to sleep or they’ll be out again quickly. There’s more to work out, and they’ll have to do this a few more times, Tune tells him, but it’s a start. 

  When Link comes back, he doesn’t suspect a thing. Or, if he does, he doesn’t ask. A question of if Tune is okay, a hair ruffle, and then one for Mask too, and then he’s urging them both to bed for the night. Being tucked in is childish, but they accept it. They accept it and they sit quietly while the older hero collapses on his own bedroll and goes out like a light, still fully dressed. 

  “He’s a great guy,” the sailor whispers once they’re sure the man won’t wake. 

  Mask nods. “Yeah.” 

  “We can do this, for him. Even if you don’t like me, and I don’t like you, we can at least make his life a bit easier by not trying to kill each other.” 

  “Deal. Now shut up.” 

  He thinks the other giggles to himself, but no more words are spoken between them. Well, not that night anyway. They have to talk again later, once there’s not the threat of Link walking in on them. It’s not perfect and there are hiccups; there are still yelling matches and squabbles and sometimes it gets a bit more physical, but for Link, they make it work. The least they can do is support their fellow hero as he prepares to face the same hell they know. Although, it really doesn’t feel that way with how intent he is on watching out for them, like he really is their dad or something. 

#asks and answers #linked universe #linkeduniverse #febuwhump2024 #febuwhump #ketto writes #lu time #lu mask #lu wind #lu tune #lu warriors #war trio #war of ages

[storyofmychoices]

Holiday Cheer 🎄 ❤️ 💚

My loveliest @jerzwriter and @lilyoffandoms, I adore you both so very much! I am grateful to this fandom for bring you both into my life! You both make this fandom a better place by being your amazing selves. Love you both!!!

I hope you enjoy this holiday art of our Open Heart babies by the always lovely, @weetlebeetle!

Holiday Cheer 🎄 ❤️ 💚

Prompts: Christmas: @choicesdecember2023, @choicesficwriterscreations, @choicesholidays, @choicesflashfics (holiday prompt, in bold)

Pairing: Bryce x Olivia , Ethan x Merida (@lilyoffandoms), Tobias x Casey (@jerzwriter)

Book: Open Heart

Word Count: >700

Rating/Warnings: general

Synopsis: Olivia, Merida, and Casey decide to decorate the Diagnostic Office.

The Diagnostic Office buzzed with festive energy as Olivia, Casey, and Merida decorated Ethan's office with holiday cheer. The trio, wearing holiday sweaters and festive headbands, worked diligently, preparing a surprise for their significant others. Boxes of decorations lay scattered across the room. In the center of the space lay a jumbled mess of tangled lights. 

Casey grappled with the relentless knots in the string lights, muttering under her breath. The more of the knots she freed, the more the lights seemed to conspire, weaving her into their tangled web.

Merida offered her assistance, teasing her friend playfully. "Making friends with the lights, Casey? Or are they plotting a holiday takeover?"

"They seem a formidable foe," Olivia chimed in, giggling as she watched Casey try to unravel a particularly tangled section.

"Ugh! I feel like neurosurgery would be easier than this," Casey joked, tediously separating the stubbornly intertwined wires.

Olivia added miniature ornaments to the long strands of garlands strewn around the rooms, her eyes sparkling with joy. "I can't wait to see their faces when they walk in." She clapped her hands enthusiastically, unable to contain her excitement. 

"Finally!" Casey jumped up, pumping her hands in the air in victory. She quickly gathered the lights, placing them in Olivia's arms. "They're all yours!" 

"My pleasure!" Olivia took the lights, holding them up in front of her, deciding on their perfect placement. 

A mischievous spark flickered in Casey's eyes as she caught Merida's attention. "Let's add a little extra surprise." She produced a small sprig of mistletoe from her bag.

Merida's brow arched. "Do you and Tobias really need another reason to be all over each other?"

"Oh, it's not for me," Casey teased, winking toward Merida. "I think we can all agree that a certain diagnostician would benefit from letting loose a little bit." 

"I'm not sure he'll share your sentiment, but I'm willing to risk it. Who knows, maybe we'll see our own Christmas miracle," Merida retorted. 

With stealthy precision, they positioned the mistletoe above the office doorway, chuckling at the playful addition to the festive decor.

The two stood beneath it, making sure it was safely secured, and somewhat out of sight. 

Merida's gaze shifted between the decor and Casey. "If this doesn't get Ethan's attention, I'm sure I could find someone else to take advantage of it with?" 

Casey shrugged coyly, curious by the prospect, "And, perhaps also even if he does!"

As the three friends finished up, the room transformed into a cozy haven adorned with twinkling lights and festive cheer.

Just then, the door swung open, and Bryce, Ethan, and Tobias entered, greeted by the sight of the dazzlingly decorated office. Their eyes widened in surprise and appreciation, well, at least for two of them.

“It looks like Santa threw up in here," Ethan grumbled. 

"It's festive," Tobias quickly defended, admiring the decorations. "You gotta lighten up, Scrooge."

"I wish someone would decorate the O.R. like this," Bryce added gleefully.

"You do realize that none of this is sterile," Ethan interrupted. “So unless you plan to risk your patients lives, you do not wish someone to decorate the O.R.”

"Ignore him," Bryce wrapped his arms around Olivia, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "It's beautiful." 

Ethan sighed, rubbing the space between his brows. He was truly outnumbered. He always was, but sometimes he had Olivia on his side. Not this time. “...It can stay," he mumbled reluctantly.

"It really wasn't an option," Casey smirked. 

Ethan stepped further into his office, but his movements were halted.

"Not so fast—" Merida sauntered forward, pressing Ethan back under the doorway once more. "I believe you owe me a kiss." 

"That's a juvenile tradition," he protested.

"Are you refusing? You know that's bad luck."

"You know I don't believe in luck."

Merida shook her head; she wanted to scold him but this was who he was, and she loved him for it. Her fingers flirted with his tie a moment, before she pulled him down to her, her lips crashing against his.

Their embrace was met by whistles and howls from their friends. The pair ignored them, their lingering kiss enduring.

Casey turned to Tobias, her voice soft, "Merry Christmas." Her lips met his tenderly. 

Olivia leaned further into Bryce, letting the warmth and comfort of his embrace engulf her as she marveled at the beautiful lights and displays surrounding them. 

Their jobs weren't always easy, and sometimes things could seem bleak, but right now, surrounded by their friends and such a cheerful display, everything seemed just right.

#bryce lahela #bryce lahela x mc #tobias carrick x mc #ethan ramsey x mc #tobias carrick #ethan ramsey #bryce oph #bryce lahela x oc #open heart #playchoices #choices #choices game #olivia hadley #bryce x olivia #brylivia #lovealexhunt #oph bryce #fan fiction #open heart fan fic #my commission #brylivia commission #lovealexhuntgetsart #december2023

[froggy-with-a-knife]

the set up

pairing: sage x reader 

prompt: phoenix, cypher, kj, raze and jett like to meddle in your love life and attempt to set you up with sage

word count: ~3.000

warning: probably inaccurate descriptions of a game of chess

A/N: I tried to keep it gender neutral this time, but if there are any descriptions etc that seems to lean towards one gender or another just let me know and I’ll fix it

"You're doing it again." 

You blinked, tearing your eyes away from the chess pieces and raising an eyebrow at the masked man in front of you. You moved your knight forward without a second glance, knowing that you'd already been taking your sweet time.

"What do you mean?" you inquired, puzzled by his statement.

Cypher hummed, playing with the black bishop he had captured from you already.

"You are distracted", he told you after a moment of consideration, "Otherwise, you would not have made this move."

Swiftly, your teammate put his queen forward to take the space your knight had previously occupied. You let out a frustrated breath of air, realizing your blunder. Cypher snatched your piece up triumphantly, adding to his already large pile.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

"I'm not sure they're worth that much", you shook your head, eyes back on the board as you weighed your options. Your king was castled in, and beside your three pawns and rook, you only had your queen on the backline. Let's just say the odds were not in your favour.

Cypher chuckled at your response, leaning across the board conspiratorially, which distracted you from your deliberations.

"Quite on the contrary, I think they're invaluable. Especially since they've been so preoccupied with someone else recently..."

You froze, eyes meeting his gleeful ones hidden behind the mask. Was it that obvious? You had tried to hide your interest as well as you could. But keeping secrets from the Moroccan was pretty much impossible. His net of information was weaved too thickly, and it appears as though you had just been caught, stuck to his web like an unlucky fly at the mercy of a spider.

You sighed, moving your rook to put his queen in check.

"Why ask if you already know?"

"Well, I know some of it. However, details are important in my profession", swiftly he moved one of his pawns forward, blocking your rook, "And obviously, I'm also worried about you, my dear friend."

You captured his pawn, knowing he would retaliate with his queen, but not caring all too much.

"Worried?", you asked instead, raising an eyebrow. Cypher chuckled, moving his queen as you had predicted.

"Yes. After all, who will I play with after your brain has completely turned into lovesick mush?"

"Funny."

Your conversation seemed to have piqued the interest of your other teammates in the room, much to your dismay. Phoenix was the first across the room, slinging an arm around your shoulder with a big grin as he joined you on the bench you were sitting on.

"Aw, does someone have a crush?"

You pushed his arm off with a roll of your eyes, but Phoenix's smile didn't diminish as he continued to pester you.

"Now, who is the special someone that's caught your interest, huh? I thought you were immune to those kinds of feelings."

"Maybe it's just when you are involved", Jett quipped slyly, "You get that reaction a lot, don't you, pretty boy?"

"Hahaha", Phoenix said sarcastically, throwing Jett a glare. She shrugged it off nonchalantly, turning her attention to Cypher. Luckily, the Moroccan had the good sense not to say anything yet, much to the chagrin of your nosy friends. Unluckily, your friends are stubborn and insist on figuring it out themselves.

"It's got to be someone from the Protocol, no? Why else would they be so secretive?", Killjoy threw in, still working on her bot but nevertheless invested. Raze nodded her head eagerly in agreement.

"Good point. It's not like they have much of a social life outside of work."

"Hey!", you protested at the underhand dig, but neither Razenor anyone else took notice, intent on figuring this out themselves.

"It's probably no one in this room, right?"

"Maybe it's Brimstone-zinho? Would explain why they're so embarrassed."

"The boss man?! No way!"

"I agree. I like Brim, but I don't think he's the...uh...right age."

"He's not that old."

"And who knows, maybe that's something they're into."

You buried your face in your hands, shaking your head at their guesses. Cypher laughed in amusement, earning himself a glare from you.

You decided it was probably in your best interest to make a swift escape. Looking at the chess pieces, you purposefully moved your queen to a compromising position, allowing thatwould not only make her easy to capture but simultaneously put your king in checkmate. Cypher tsked, recognizing what you were trying to do.

"Trying to lose now, are we?", he asked, tilting his head to the side. The others quieted down, probably hearing the dangerously sly tone of his voice. You swallowed. Maybe you had miscalculated.

"Cypher...", you warned to no effect.

The Moroccan turned one of the black pieces over in his hand. You could swear that underneath that mask of his he was grinning from ear ot ear.

"Well, my dear friend, since our game seems to be concluding, allow me to give you some sage advice before you leave: the worst thing that can happen is she says 'no'. It might make it awkward at first and even hurt, but you know what they say: time heals all wounds. Even those of the heart."

There was a moment of silence as the others gaped at you with wide eyes, waiting for your reaction to Cypher's pretty on-the-nose hints. You paid them no mind, eyes narrowing at the Morrocan, and mouth pulling into a frown.

"Wow, very clever, Amir", you muttered sarcastically.

All hell broke loose around you as your teammates started to talk over each other excitedly.

"You like Sage?!"

"Oh wow, did not expect that one."

"Is that why you're helping out in the infirmary so often?"

"Are we talking simple crush, or are you in love with her?"

"Guys", you interrupted them with a pointed look, making them shut up, "I don't want to talk about it."

"What?", Raze exclaimed, excitedly twirling a screwdriver between her fingers, "You can't drop a bombshell like this and not give us anything more!"

You rolled your eyes, tempted to point out that you didn't drop anything, but knowing that would only start a whole new argument.

"At least tell us what your plan is. How are you going to win her over?", Phoenix jumped in, refusing to drop the matter.

"I'm not. I'm pretty sure she doesn´t likes me back."

"Of course she likes you! You guys spend so much time together. Plus, she talks about you all the time."

You glanced at Jett, curiosity piqued.

"She does?"

"All the time", Jett repeated, and the others nodded in agreement.

Against your better judgement, you felt a spark of hope rise in your chest, wishing to light up your heart. You were quick to put it out.

"That doesn't mean anything", you tell them as much as yourself, "I'm simply better off keeping it quiet. Something you will do too if you value your life."

Kj, Raze and Jett respectively let out defeated sighs, shrugged or silently consented. Phoenix, on the other hand, looked less than willing to comply, staring at you incredulously.

"Nah, man, you can't just give up! Where's your fighting spirit?"

"I prefer to save it for the battlefield", you replied dryly, "Why fight a battle that's already lost?"

Cypher stared at the chess board with a frown.

"If your love life is anything like this match, then you are definitely sabotaging yourself", he stated, finally claiming your queen and putting your king in checkmate with a disappointed sigh. With the game finally over, you eagerly got up from your chair, more than happy to remove yourself from this situation.

You paused at the door, turning back to your teammates.

"Not a word of this to Sage. Understood?"

They nodded, and you left satisfied with their answer.

A beat of silence. Cypher stood up from his seat, looking at his colleagues with a mischievous smile.

"What would you guys say to a little matchmaking?"

Four heads eagerly nodded at his suggestion, matching grins on their faces.

*******************************************************************************************

"Busy day?"

You perked up from your spot on the office chair, a soft smile automatically gracing your lips as soon as you set eyes on your favourite colleague. Sage looked as though she had come straight from the aircraft to the infirmary: still clad in her mission outfit, face slightly covered in dust and dirt.

"You could say that", you said, sitting up from your slumped position, knowing how much Sage liked to scold you for your bad posture, "There was a bit of an incident in the kitchen, but nothing I couldn't handle."

Sage stopped next to you to lean against the desk, hands bracing against the top of the table. From your position in the chair, she looked even taller than she usually did, towering over you like this. She nodded her head, eyes trailing to the door momentarily.

"I heard. I'll have to have a word with Phoenix about using his abilities around flammable materials. Again."

You chuckled, shaking your head.

"Yeah, well, at least no one was too seriously hurt. Second-degree burns are an easy fix, more or less."

With a nonchalant shrug, you held up your arm to show off the irritations and slight scars adorning your skin: The results of your work day in the infirmary. You are usually left with some kinds of aches, wounds or bruises. Unlike Sage or Skye, your healing powers were more indirect in nature: You were only really able to heal yourself (which, although quicker than normal human healing, still took a bit of time). So, whenever you treated one of your patients, you had to use your powers to transfer their injuries to yourself and then wait for the healing process to kick in. It was tedious work, exhausting for you and much less efficient, but better than not having any healer around.

Sage's brow furrowed in concern, and before you could reassure her, she wordlessly took hold of one of your arms, examining your injuries more closely. Her fingers ghosted over the marks, which faded in the wake of her cold caress. Your heart picked up speed, surprised at the chief healer's touch. Delicately she switched to your other arm and healed the remaining scars as well.

"I'm sorry that you've had to help out so much recently", she murmured, eyes focused on her task. You mustered up an easy smile.

"It's okay. I don't mind. I was the one who volunteered after all."

"I know. But you were supposed to act as an assistant only", Sage reminded you with a sigh, "Lately it almost seems like you are running the infirmary all by yourself. It's not fair to you, knowing the price that you pay for your help."

Her fingers trailed over your arms once more, over the scars that were now invisible. You were sure the tingling sensation you felt had nothing to do with her powers.

"It doesn't hurt that much. It stings, and it's uncomfortable, I won't lie. But it's a small price to pay for the well-being of our teammates."

She sighed, silently acknowledging the truth in your words. Slowly she let go of your arm, her fingers instead moving to toy with her ring. A habitat she couldn't seem to break.

"I suppose", she started, meeting your eyes once more, almost sheepishly, "I guess I simply don't like seeing you hurt, even if it is inconsequential."

Her admission made your breath hitch, and you had to silently remind yourself not to read too much into her words. Sage was just a caring person, she'd say the same thing to any of your teammates. You offered her a grateful smile but before you could articulate a response, the two of you were interrupted by the sound of the announcement system crackling to life. Sage and you both jumped at the unexpected noise, the chief healer moving a couple of inches away from you. You hadn't even realised how close you had been to one another, but now that knowledge made your face grow warm.

"All agents please assemble in conference room B for an emergency briefing. I repeat, all agents to conference room B, please."

The robotic female voice announced over the speakers, the sound echoing through the big room. You turned to Sage quizzically, but the second in command looked just as surprised as you did.

"An unscheduled briefing. Must be serious", you mused and Sage nodded in agreement. Pushing herself away from the table, she offered a hand to you.

"We better not waste any time then."

You took her hand, letting her pull you to your feet. Together you walked the distance to the conference room in companionable silence. The lights in the room were already on, and the screen usually used for presentations was powered up. However, there was no one else besides the two of you there yet. Moreover, it smelled like someone had eaten lunch in there recently, the aroma of spices still fresh in the air.

"Looks like we're the first to arrive", Sage observed, walking forward to sit down in the nearest chair, "Strange that we beat both Jett and Neon."

You turned to look towards the door, expecting someone, anyone to enter any moment. The hallway remained completely quiet. Strange indeed.

"Shouldn't Brim be here already?", you asked suspiciously, turning to Sage, "Assuming he's the one that called the meeting, that is."

You had a feeling something about this briefing was off. However, your realization came too late. In a fraction of a second the door to the conference room slid shut behind you. A click signalling that the locks had been activated. You briefly exchanged an alarmed look with Sage, before hurrying towards the door. You punched in the usual codes on the access panel. Error.

"Locked", you stated the obvious. Sage joined you at the pad typing in a different sequence of numbers. Her brows pulled together in a frown.

"The override codes aren't working either."

"Cypher and Killjoy", you muttered, your suspicions clear. Sage gave you a puzzled look.

"Why would they lock us in here?"

Before you could think of an answer, the lights suddenly dimmed, and the speakers crackled to life once more.

"This one's for you, my dear friend. Enjoy", Cypher's voice stated in a mischievous tone. Your stomach tightened in dread.

The blank screen switched to show footage of a crackling fireplace and soft jazz music started to play over the speakers. To your right, one of the built-in cabinets opened up, revealing a pull-out table set with fine silverware, chandeliers and hot food, the source of the smell you had noticed while entering.

You were mortified, relaizing that this whole thing was a set up. Even worse, it was a bad set-up. There was no way Sage didn't understand the implications of your situation. Your friends' pathetic attempt at matchmaking must have made your romantic feelings for her clear as day. Your face grew hot in embarassment, and you avoided looking at Sage. The healer laid a gentle hand on your arm to catch your attention.

"What is all this?"

You swallowed, deciding to play it as cool as you could.

"Dinner, apparently. Hungry?"

Quickly you moved to the table, pulling out a chair for the Chinese and swiftly moving to lift the cover from the food to reveal some fancy pasta dish. It smelled amazing, you had to admit, but you honestly felt too jittery for food. Still, you plated some for you and Sage, who was taking this impromptu meal in stride.

"Wine?", she asked, taking the bottle sitting in a small chiller and offering it to you. Mutely you nodded, and she poured some for both of you. Red. You had no idea if it clashed with your meal or not. You didn't really care as long as it helped against the embarrassment you felt.

You took a long sip, sneaking a look at the healer as she tried the pasta. You could tell she was somewhat confused but too considerate to push you for more information. Or maybe she was just starving. She had just returned from a mission, after all.

You set down your glass, absentmindedly picking at your food.

"It's pretty good", Sage offered, trying to encourage you to eat, having misinterpreted your lack of hunger for hesitation. Her smile was so kind you couldn't help but return it.

"Jett must have cooked it", you guessed, "The others are useless in the kitchen."

Sage chuckled at that, probably also recalling Raze and Killjoy's failed attempt at making scrambled eggs for breakfast.

"Although, I suppose Phoenix tried to help, resulting in the fiery accident that you had to deal with earlier today", Sage guessed, and your eyes widened. You hadn't even considered that these two incidents could be connected. You shook your head amused. Curse your meddling, well-meaning friends.

"I'm sorry for all of this", you apologized sincerely, finally meeting her eyes, "I'm afraid it's all my fault."

Sage shook her head, reaching across to take your hand in a reassuring gesture that made your breath hitch.

"I can imagine worse fates", Sage admitted softly, "In fact, a candle-lit dinner with you sounds like the ideal way to spend an evening."

She squeezed your hand, with a smile.

"Next time, just ask me out yourself, alright? I fear to imagine what other matchmaking schemes our friends would come up with."

You couldn't stop the feeling of hope spreading through your chest this time.

"Does that mean you'd like to go out with me again? Romantically? On a date?"

Sage laughed, the most beautiful laugh you had ever heard.

"Of course I do! I thought I made it pretty obvious that I like you. I gave you all the signs."

You blinked, cocking your head to the side in confusion.

"You did?"

Sage shook her head affectionately, letting go of your hand to continue eating.

"I'll tell you all about it if you take me out to dinner this weekend", she said slyly.

You grinned, picking up a forkful of food.

"It's a date."

#valorant x reader #sage x reader #valorant sage #valorant sage x reader #ling ying wei #froggystory

[thoughtfullyrainynightmare]

Cover art by @/crazycookiemaniac

Summary: The strings of Fate continue to twist and turn and wind in a rather odd manner. It's almost like the fate of the world would be dependent on just a few of the threads. Is there a chance to affect the way they are woven together? And how about the formerly so happy couple? All they carry of the other as of now, is the tender, but bittersweet emotions in their hearts, along with the rings on their fingers. Rings, which held a spell.

Pairing: Fuegoleon (CC) x Solara (OC) Fanfic type: Book/long fic Warnings: Mostly canon typical content, the battle/war themes are there, angst, Fue's fear manifests as anger (he's only human, after all), Solara is still pregnant so themes of pregnancy

Tag list: @succulentsunrise @loosesodamarble

A/N: Three months later... I wanted to see where canon progresses, but decided to make some decisions of my own in the end anyhow. Hope you like them (nyehehhee).

Word count: ~3.6k

Chapter 6: The Rings

‘Tis curious... It’s as if the Seer is no more. The string is awfully thin... Like all else. So, I wonder... I wonder if ... I wonder what’s in that room, beyond the mirror. The passage. She’s always looking at me through it, but I think there’s something behind her. Not that she ever spends more time there. But I think... there is something in there.

I wonder what it is... for ever since I was... how old was I? When I came here? Decided that it’s best to observe. To be an observer, rather than a Seer. Which, perhaps... Perhaps it’s what the researchers of Old Micah were supposed to be. To watch, but not tinker and toil.

Though the bells are awfully annoying.

Maybe they could hear the bells too and just wanted them to shut up.

Though sister... sister says that she can’t hear anything wrong with them. That some hear the bells, but hear nothing wrong about how they play. If you call that as playing. The blasted bells. They drill into my very soul. At times.

Maybe they drilled into the souls of the scientists too. And that’s why they drew the strings, and ventured too close. Trying to tinker with them. Temper with the threads that shouldn’t be tempered with.

And thus were no more... Nothing but a whisper. A distant memory for only those who are able to remember them. Their lair being nothing but ruins, hidden behind forcefields in fear of it taking place again. Another one breaking through because someone played an off note with the strings.

She half scoffed; half chuckled.

Or weaved them the wrong way. Since ... though I... perhaps it’d be better to call them as weavers. I’m not one, despite being like a spider caught in a web. Or... at least feeling like one. Though maybe spiders don’t feel trapped inside their own creations.

And since this isn’t my creation, I think that a spider isn’t a fitting description after all.

But... then... what does it make me? What am I?

I’m not a Seer, Weaver or ... Or... anything that there are supposed to be. I just exist.

Just exist and watch as the threads turn and twist, helpless as ever. Though. What would it affect me? If they’d cease to turn. If they’d... become tangled in a way like never before? What would it affect me? I am here, without a burden on my consciousness. For if I ever do nothing, then how could I be guilty of doing anything wrong?

Though sister is adamant that I do something, because choosing to do nothing is as bad as doing something wrong. While she also agrees that sometimes it’s best to mind one’s own business. Take care of her queendom and let others do as they will. Because others existing as they do, while not bothering us is... they might exist differently than we do, but it’s not inherently wrong in any way.

However... the twisting and the turning that’s taking place... Never did I think that so many threads could be affected by one path... two paths... Or maybe... It’s hard to tell.

The threads are awfully small and wound together where I can see them.

But still. They’re tied to awfully many places, and the web seems like it’s crumbling. Falling apart.

So maybe... but I couldn’t.

No one is to touch the threads. That is a Law.

One that the researchers of Old Micah learned the hard way.

No mortal hands are to touch the threads as they are.

But that makes me wonder... how would one then affect the twisting and the turning? Perhaps with a tool? That is how the scientists made it possible to weave into the net. With a set of tools that allowed them to touch threads that weren’t meant to be touched.

However... that doesn’t mean that there wouldn’t be a tool that wouldn’t allow for it. To take a hold and play the bells, attached to the threads. Or even... maybe if you connect something to the threads, and touch those instead of touching the threads themselves?

I wonder...

Her head turned towards the mirror, the pathway and the thin sheet of something she couldn’t name, which existed between that place and another. A place from where her sister gazed to her every once in a while. And for reasons that were lost even from herself, she couldn’t turn her eyes away.

I wonder what’s in that room...

---

The art of crafting a wedding band is delicate and precise work. After all, the piece of jewellery is meant to be worn around one’s finger for the rest of the days they have on this earth. And thus, it should be both durable and stylish; something that fits the person carrying the ring itself.

Designing such a piece takes time, let alone execute the craftmanship. Especially while working with a fragile material such as a leaf from the Tree of Binding Fates.

It was long, long time ago discovered that the material, which becomes hardened after falling off, could be used in jewellery or other memorabilia. But considering the significance of the ritual, it seemed only logical to incorporate such a fine material, add a fine detail, to a piece of jewellery as important as a wedding band. It in itself would already make the pair of rings unique, because no one else would have the same leaf, the same pattern, of the same shape and size and weight, as the one that The Tree served the couple. Perhaps one might find similar ones. Even hauntingly similar, while looking at older rings, preserved and kept intact for future generations to see and admire. Because surely love is something to admire. To read about the joys and sorrows the couple held, while looking at the rings, which were still there, as if to prove that the couple had existed, once upon a time.

The old man, in Thea, working for the [Lil’ Old Jeweller] had been doing what he knows best for 55 years already, in that very same shop, which was founded by his great-grandfather with no greater aspirations than to simply do a good job. It had been his wish to do an honest day’s work, in a manner that he could be proud of.

The old man could remember his grandfather having told how his father had felt rather silly while putting the word ‘old’ into the sign while opening, but he had felt that it added a certain charisma to the name. However, the word had grown true to itself, as the shop had gained popularity.

The old man could remember when his grandfather had gotten his first job with a request to add a leaf from The Tree, and how nervous he had been. Because it wasn’t just any material, it was something that couldn’t be replaced. So, he had started by chipping off only a portion of the leaf in hopes of being able to chip off another piece if he failed on the first try. And the method had proved to be successful. There had even been only a handful of occasions when a new piece had needed to be chipped off the leaf, because as the old man, his father, and grandfather, had all noticed, the work took shape around the leaf piece.

There was always a hint of a kind, along with having spoken to the couple, most of them easy to talk to, and some seeming more like they’d be the end of each other than the love of each other’s lives, about how the rings should look like. One had to work with the ring, instead of having to make the ring work for oneself. That was one of the things he had hoped to have gotten across to his daughter, who had taken an interest in adding leaves, actual leaves and flowers into the rings as well. Encase them in resin or alike material, along with the leaf from The Tree. And she seemed to do good job. Her customers seemed happy. Which was enough for him. He might not have understood the fascination, because when he thought about a ring, he thought of silver and gold, fine elements of the earth, along with gems and the leaf.

But he was already an old man. And he supposed that it was alright. Time went on, and his daughter also had the skill of listening. The old man had thought himself to have held the gift of seeing too, but upon watching the pieces his daughter made, he thought himself to have only a narrow view of seeing.

Though the daughter said their ways of seeing to simply have been different. There was no right or wrong, as long as you work with the couple, and do a good, honest day’s work.

The old man had been pleased with this answer. Perhaps that was all there was to it.

And so, the old man would continue doing his work, with the couples, the leaves and the pieces of metal, embedding the magic of the leaves of The Tree into a piece of jewellery that was worn on the ring finger of the left hand, from where there was a straight path to the heart.

Sometimes he would think how many utilize the magic that was embedded into the ring. Perhaps not quite many, because it could be used only once, and it wasn’t that often one held such a desperate need to get to one and another instantly. Especially if it was only once. Though he could always make a new ring, with the remainders of the leaf. None just seemed to think of it. Or then it wouldn’t be the same, because you only, really, get married to one person once in your life. At least... in most cases.

It was also possible that many simply... forgot about it. Put if off as just some ol’ wives tales and went on with their lives.

He also went on as to speculate that some might have thought the spell, or the mana, to activate to have needed something grand. A specific set of words that would wind into a sentence that would bring one to their loved one, or vice versa, for after all, the door swung both ways. But in reality, what was required, was rather simple.

Another thing he thought that many forgot, because more didn’t use it. And those that, perhaps, remembered it, deemed it invasive to simply yank one’s beloved to them away from whatever it was. Especially, again, since the spell could be used only once. And would give away to this one little ace in one’s sleeve. Not that it was so special that other nations couldn’t have come up with it and used it for themselves.

But, during times of trouble, he also found himself thinking if people, who once upon a time had sat there, in the small seating area of his shop, talking to him about their wishes for the rings, eyes full of love and hope for the future, had found themselves falling out of love. After all, it was not always love that bound people’s fates together. So, it was possible, that somewhere down the road, what had brought the couple together, drove them apart. And thus, the magic that existed in the rings was left unused.

Luckily, those thoughts, those moments, were scarce. And more often than not, he found himself smiling while thinking back to all of the encounters he had with the brides and grooms to be. Every story different from the other. But the smiles and the gazes, the tender, subtle displays of affection, they he could recognize. Even if they all harboured a special flare of their own, no matter how similar one might have thought them to be based on a glance. And the similarities, he had found, stretched far beyond the borders of nations.

For a while he had nearly forgotten it. During the years that it had been only Thean couples that came to see him. But one of the latest couple he found himself thinking more than any other for a while. Perhaps because of how much they had been talked about. Because of what was achieved, essentially because they had been the driving force for the borders opening and new alliance forming.

He had thought that maybe he shouldn’t have been so surprised to find them, sitting across the table from him. But. He had been.

However, the surprise and the wonder had faded away as he looked at them smile. As he smiled because they smiled, and because the smile was contagious.

He hoped that the couple would never need to use the magic of the rings. He hoped that they could be happy and content; spend the days of their lives, together.

---

The smooth surface of his wedding band, which hid a pattern, as if flames, on the inner surface of it. He let his thumb grace the piece of metal, which spoke of a promise. A shared vow between two lovers, during a time that had been filled with... hope... More hope. A time that had been joyous and had made his flutter in the best of ways.

And he could remember... how it had been her fingers gracing over that surface of his wedding band. He could remember, how her fingers had trailed up his arm to play with his hair. How she whispered gentle nothings to his ears, or how she’d giggle, burst into a laugh because of something silly that he couldn’t even remember anymore. He just remembered the laugh.

He remembered how beautiful she had been.

He wondered how he had been blessed. Even for such a short while. A passing moment. A breath.

That’s how it felt, even if they had been together for years. Despite having been the best years of his life, they had been over in a blink of an eye. Too soon. Too quick.

Though he wasn’t sure if even a lifetime had been long enough of a time. But that was all the time he had; all the time she had. A lifetime.

It was just a shame that his lifetime would end up being shorter than hers. Not that he would have willed it any other way; for hers to be shorter than his.

And for a moment, he had to wonder if it had been only a dream. Something his mind had concocted during his coma, which he wished to believe with his entire being.

But... it hurt too much for it to have been a mere dream. The golden threads of fate, spun into ropes, were wound tightly around his still beating heart, which he hoped would carry his affection to her. He hoped that she could hear him, feel him, there, until he wouldn’t be. And perhaps, even after that.

He wished that she knew his last thoughts to be of her. Even when the battle was raging around him. Even as the end was nearing.

Something seemed to have caught the angels’ interest, perhaps a squad, or another captain. He wasn’t sure. But he had seen Yuno upon a glimpse, battling Lucius. He almost sure that he had seen Noelle too, which meant that the Bulls had returned. Perhaps that was why the angels seemed to have found something else of interest than the civilians, for the most part. Which allowed him to look around. Gaze around the area that surrounded him, rather than fire spells haphazardly at the enemy all around.

And what he saw, did anything but shed hope into him. If there had been much to begin with.

But the thing was, as a knight, he couldn’t give in; give up, turn his back on the sacrifices of his knights. He owed it to them. He owed it to the citizens of Clover. And, he felt that he owed it to his family. To stand his ground and be the man that he had tried to be, all his life.

He didn’t think himself to be afraid. Not anymore. He didn’t think himself to be angry, or sad... He didn’t know what he thought himself to be. If he was anything but a pawn in a game that seemed fixed. He knew that he had preached about the dangers of hesitating, freezing up; doing anything but steeling oneself.

He had learned that the hard way.

And yet, he found himself placing, again, his thumb over his wedding band, and thinking of her.

I wish... that we could have been together. This was our choice, and it was... the right ... choice. But still... I wish that... you’d be here.

However... as his mind formulated the thought, the words, the gentle, genuine confessions of his heart into a manifestation, he didn’t think the gilded string of fate, bound into ropes, to be listening. He didn’t remember the little spell, not in the pendant around his neck, but in the ring around his finger.  

The little spell where the door swings both ways.

And the magic, the first spark of mana was so faint that he almost missed it. Almost, but not quite.

It was just enough for his gaze to fall onto the small piece of precious metal, which now glowed a gilded, reddish glow, which reminded him of the leaf from The Tree, the rest of which was still in their room.

The glow was followed by a flash of light. Golden threads coiling around what looked like a small, tender, summer sun.

Perhaps, in another time, in another place, he would have thought it to be beautiful. Perhaps, but now, it chilled him right down to his very bone, because it meant something he didn’t wish to comprehend. Something he didn’t want to understand; believe.

He couldn’t believe it.

He didn’t want to believe it.

Never would he have thought that seeing her, would have equalled his worst nightmare. But now, as it did, all he could do, was stare at her. Eyes wide open, pupils constricted and locked onto her.

This… can’t be…

“Are you hurt?” She asked, as if that had been a reasonable question. The first thing she asked, as her eyes met his, her arm moving to her other, to do... something... but he didn’t register half of it. He could only think about the question.

As if it had been a reasonable question…

As if…

She was wearing an armour, and though it wasn’t… one that he could recall, it still… wasn’t enough. The thick plate around her stomach seemed only as a thin veil over what was more than a target to an enemy.

“Honey?” She asked, eyes full of worry, sorrow, but still with a soft fondness in them that was far too gentle for a place like this.

Place that was worse than the Underworld, worse than hell. Because even in hell are only those worthy of the punishment cast upon them. And here, it was mostly those … who were not.

“What… are you doing here…?” He could hear himself asking from her, through the haze and the deliria.

For a moment he had to consider that he had died, and this was but a fever dream. A horrid, twisted concoction of his mind during his final breath.

“I... was drawn to you,” she replied, looking at her ring. Yet another horrid statement.

Though… perhaps… in another life, another time, he would have deemed it soft and sweet, a promise fulfilled and so sacred that he couldn’t comprehend… But now, in its gentle caress lied thorns.

Oh how he wished they would have been mere thorns, instead of the soul carving, hollowing, burning, flooding sensation that sought to take over him.

A primal emotion. The primal emotion of fear, fluttered in him. But it came out as rage.

“What, are, you doing here?!” He shouted as his face twisted; teeth bared as if canines to ravage flesh. 

“I-, came to-”

“WHY ARE YOU HERE?!” He yelled again, jaw clenched and overtaken by a flood from within him.

“I… You...” she managed, before his right hand grabbed his left, fingers twisting onto his wedding ring.

“GET. OUT!” He yelled, slamming the ring, embedded with a leaf from the Tree of Binding Fate, onto the pavement of the Capitol. It clicked against the stones under them as the only sound she heard.

It might have been but a small, ringing sound of metal against stone, but the faint sound, was the loudest thing she could conceive.

And with it, she could feel her heart sinking in her chest. As if punched, her organs pushed all the way to her back.

As if a slap in the face.

And all she could do, was stare at that ring, as it rolled away from her.

But she didn’t want to see it go, so, she reached forward with a motion that was heavy; trembling. And cast Gravity of the Sun with minimal effort in hopes that it’d come back as tears rolled down her cheeks in the middle of the Capitol where she sat, alone, on the cold harsh ground.

No choice that she could have made, was good. But somehow, this, felt the worst one she could have taken out of the options provided. To sit there, unsure of what to do.

And… what made it worse, was the fact that she could feel the little ones kicking in her stomach.

They’re so feisty… she smiled to herself despite the tears. Just like their father…

#black clover fanfiction #the vows we made #fuegoleon x solara #fuelara #oc x canon

[hydropyro]

I’ve been seeing a lot about Gale lately so I have been thinking about how Gale and Abdirak may interact.

And I wrote this. I might do one for each of the companions. Maybe not.

Based in “Webs of Fate” story, but is a separate excerpt/ficlet

The wizard was forlorn after the older man had left. Despite everyone seeming cheary enough, something must have gone awry with their meeting. Abdirak had gone for a walk to forage for some mushrooms and alchemical herbs, which he now brought to Gale as an excuse to talk to him.

“Who was that — wizened fellow?” Abdirak asked. Of course he knew who Elminster was. Who didn’t? If anyone could see through his ignorant facade, it would be the wizard.

Gale was not amused, and he did see through Abdirak. He accepted the mushrooms, muttering thanks, though he was still broody.

“You look like you’ve received unfortunate tidings, child.” The Paingiver said, searching the tautness of the wizard’s expression. “Does it pertain to the orb in your chest?”

Gale gave a sigh and nodded, not looking at the Loviatan.

“I can lend an ear.”

The wizard had not been fond of the Paingiver in their journey, but he was a pleasant and cordial man all around so they weren’t at odds. Gale still did not trust Abdirak’s motivations — which hardly made sense because he’d been very open as to his reason for being there, and a ‘desire to help’ was not quite it.

“We believe the center of the Absolute Cult will be at Moonrise towers when we get there,” the wizard said. “Mystra wants me to destroy it when we find it.”

“By suicide?” That surprised the Loviatan. Gale had been a Chosen of the Goddess of Magic. Whatever his mistakes, he was no doubt valuable.

The wizard nodded, his expression grim. “Can I ask for your opinion?”

Two surprises in one day. Abdirak considered it probably prudent for them to rest for the remainder of the day, despite the sun still being high in the sky, lest that count become three. “You want to know what I would do?”

“Few in this group understand the relationship one has with their god. There’s Shadowheart of course but—”

“I would do it.” Abdirak said without thought. “But,” he added, holding up a finger, “that does not mean that I believe you should.

“Much of what I have heard regarding your — condition — has been second hand. Would you be comfortable telling me the tale?”

The wizard frowned. “If you would, why shouldn’t I?”

The Paingiver only hummed. “You make some tea and meet me at my tent.”

He started away before the wizard could respond, but heard the other man say, “I am not going to let you hit me.”

Abdirak only laughed.

•••

Despite his reservations, Gale appeared at the Paingiver’s tent a short time later, two mugs of tea in hand. He passed one to Abdirak, saying, “It’s mint. And some other things. Rosemary, etcetera.”

“Perfect.” Abdirak gestured for him to enter and indicated a cushion he had sitting on the far side of his small tent where the wizard should sit. He himself knelt on the ground, resting back on his heels. He waited for Gale to situate himself, sipping the steeped tea quietly.

“It’s very tidy in here,” the wizard said, making awkward conversation. The Loviatan knew that he meant nothing by the comment, but he had enjoyed the way the intelligent man could stumble over his own words.

“Of course. Why wouldn’t it be?”

The wizard gulped hard on his tea and cleared his throat, shaking his head. “No, just an observation.”

Abdirak hummed. “Tell be about your condition, Gale.”

The Paingiver listened attentively while Gale explained how he had obtained the orb. Child prodigy who had caught the attention of the Goddess of Magic from a very young — prepubescent — age. Devout worshiper. As a young adult he had become the goddess’s lover and Chosen. He had begged for more from the goddess — not power, but access to the Weave — to experience, study, and further his devotion. When being denied, Gale sought to prove himself by returning a piece lost to the goddess. She scorned him and denounced him. Should he detonate the orb at the time of confronting whatever controlled the growing Absolute Cult, Mystra would forgive him for his greed.

Abdirak sat quietly and digested the wizard’s tale a long while after. “What is Mystra going to forgive you for?”

“For disobeying her. For trying to go around her.”

“Is that what you were doing?”

The wizard frowned. “Not exactly. I wanted to — please her. I wanted to show her that I was worthy by finding and delivering that part of her that she lost so long ago. She's been through so much.”

“It wasn’t a part of her, though.” Abdirak said.

“Well, I didn’t know that. By the time I realized it was already burrowing into my chest.”

The Paingiver nodded. “I can see it causes you a great deal of physical pain.”

“It does. It feels like it is gnawing away at me.”

“And so you were removed from being her Chosen. How do you serve her now?”

Gale shook his head. “I was removed entirely.”

“You aren’t a devout?”

“Well,” Gale paused. “I am — but she won’t have me.”

Abdirak nodded. “One would think she does not care for you. It must be difficult to have gone from her lover to — nothing. It seems she did not love you.”

“I understand pain is your — forte — but I would thank you not to prod that particular wound.” Gale said, making the Loviatan chuckle.

“Force of habit,” the Paingiver explained, taking another long drink of his tea. “But — avoiding a festering wound does not make it heal faster, nor alleviate its pain.”

“How do you know that Loviatar loves you?” The wizard asked defensively. “You said you would do what I’m being asked.”

“Oh, she doesn’t.”

The wizard balked. “You would kill yourself for someone who doesn’t even care about you?”

The Loviatan considered how best to explain it to the man. “The gods — they are not like us. They do not care for us in the way we may care for one another. Indeed, in the way we care for them.

“I suppose you could equate it to — a business partnership. Loviatar does not love me, Abdirak, the man. But she loves my utility as her Pain.” His hand fell to the scourge ever coiled at his hip. “When broken down to its parts, my love and devotion to her comes down to her utility to me, too.”

“You can indulge in pain without Loviatar,” the wizard argued.

“And you can use magic without Mystra. But it wouldn’t be quite as satisfying, would it?”

“You are useful, Gale Dekarios. You would not have been made Mystra’s Chosen and her lover had you not been.

“Yes, you are wayward, but even your mistakes were driven by your desire to serve her.

“While you may not ever be invited to — warm,” he frowned, “do gods have beds to warm?”

“I’d rather not discuss that with you,” Gale said quickly.

The Pain eyed him carefully, enjoying the wizard’s discomfort under his stare. “Another time, perhaps. I am so curious.”

“Aren’t you with Alakvyr?” The man tried to deflect the conversation.

The Pain laughed, “I wasn’t asking for a demonstration.”

The flustered wizard waved an agitated, dismissive hand. “Can we get back to the conversation? Why would you do it?”

“If my Goddess asked me to end my own life, I have every belief that it is because the benefits of doing so outweighed my utility to her.”

“And why can’t Mystra feel the same?”

“Because she has shown that you have no value. Your utility to her is nonexistent.

“I am not familiar with Mystra, Gale, and I do not seek to blaspheme your goddess.

“In asking this of you she is not asking the acclaimed Arch Wizard, Gale Dekarios.“ The wizard’s eyes flicked away but Abdirak continued. “Mystra is not asking for the life of a follower who gravely wronged her nor a hero who will save the world.

“She is asking a little boy who was told how special he was, a young man who she took into her arms — not because gods need it, but no doubt to control him further —until he didn’t do exactly as she liked.

“She’s offering you ‘forgiveness’ for your efforts to be a worthy follower — following the punishment you’ve already long suffered of stripping you of your power and title and leaving you in the cold with a painful condition that threatens to destroy you and anything near you.

“She believes that only you can stop the Absolute Cult, and yet offered no information as to what it is that you will face?

“She can send her who is considered the most powerful wizard in the realms to give you a message, but not aid you in this?” Abdirak snorted quietly. “Your life has value.”

Gale raised his eyes to Abdirak again, his eyebrows up as if he was surprised to hear it.

“There are many gods who would welcome your talents with open arms—” Abdirak held up a hand before the man could protest, “I am not proselytizing.

“There is no guarantee this course of action will save anyone. Truly, if the blast is as devastating as you suggest, it will undoubtedly harm many.

“So who all will benefit? Not you, you’ll be dead. Not anyone nearby who helped you get to that point. They will, also, be dead — all of your companions, because it’s not going to be easy to access whatever it is — you’ll have to fight your way in, no doubt.

“Only she does. Her wayward pet brought to heel and an artifact she fears destroyed.

“My advice is that you lean on those around you who see your worth and treat you accordingly.”

The men stared at one another for a long while, neither speaking. He could almost see the gears working in the intelligent man’s head.

“Besides,” Abdirak said, smiling at the man, “You can’t suffer the sweet agonies of life if you’re dead — what a waste that would be.”

“That was proselytizing,” The wizard said, though he had a small smile.

“Force of habit.”

Gale groaned as he started to pull himself to his feet. Others may have thought him older than he was by the way he moved, by the little sounds of discomfort he made throughout his day — but Abdirak knew pain. This was a young man living with an incredible pain and hiding it away.

“Thank you, Abdirak.” The wizard was upright now, so the Pain also stood. Gale held out a hand to accept Abdirak’s nearly empty mug. “You’re — a bit different—”

Abdirak laughed. It was not the first, nor would it be the last, time he’d heard that. Despite the tone, he knew it was not necessarily a compliment.

“But,” Gale was saying, “I appreciate you. And I’m glad you joined us.”

“It has been interesting.” Abdirak put a gentle hand on the wizard’s shoulder and lifted the tent flap so he could leave. “Should you ever wish to learn about the delicate intricacies of pain, I am always eager for a willing student.”

“I doubt I will take you up on that.” The wizard said, his tone pleasant nonetheless. He gave the Pain a quick nod in farewell, his hands full, before turning to go back to his own tent.

#baldur’s gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #ficlet #gale #abdirak #what if scenario

[alliwanttodoiscollectpoetry]

To the spider,

the shadowed creature in the corner of the room

i hate you.

You scared me just as your brothers and sisters did before you,

and i will tell you what i told them,

You are a trespasser that does not belong here.

You entered without knocking.

Roamed freely like this is your home and decorated my walls with unwanted, silk webs without asking.

You may not be the only killer here, but only one of us is innocent,

and it's not you.

The spider says to me, it's brittle body squashed and dying,

It's not you, either.

There is venom infused in my fang-shaped maws,

but i was born this way.

What's your excuse?

If you could count your murders, how long would you be counting?

Am i really this threatening?

I thought human hearts were bigger that mine, but you have killed with malice instead of marrow of your bones and poison bubbling behind your scowl

And i'm sorry for scaring you,

but i didn't know being seen would cost me my life.

Maybe

If you didn't fabricate the prickly feeling of my legs creeping upon your skin while I crawled across the living room floor,

If the webs I weaved were made of cotton candy and captured clementines, cherries, and sweet peas rather than struggling wings and blood;

If i had a pink tongue, plush fur, a wagging tail, and four legs instead of eight

If i had only two eyes, and they were glittering stars and not supermassive block holes;

If i was the same but looked different;

maybe you wouldn't hate me.

Maybe you wouldn't have loved me, either, and maybe you still wouldn't have let me stay,

but maybe you would've shown me the door or a window.

Maybe you would've shown me mercy.

(But you are still standing, and I am still sorry).

I think

maybe,

no matter how reluctant,

mercy would've been enough

10 legs, 8 broken

#alliwanttodoiscollectpoetry #poem #poetry #poems #poet #poets #anthology #tumblr poetry #poem of the day #poetry blog #TikTok #TikTok poem #poems on tumblr #short poems #spider #creatures #mercy #kindness #10 legs #8 broken #10 legs 8 broken

[albonoooo]

thank you for the tag @borntogayz <3

star sign: pisces

favourite holiday: christmas (for the cozy vibes and food)

last meal: rice and stir-fried veggies

current favourite musician: this changes daily, but lately i've been listening to a lot of palaye royale (damn you, liquid) and nostalgic 2000s music like britney spears, beyoncé, christina aguilera and the pussycat dolls.

last music listened to: i'm listening to palaye royale as i'm typing this.

last movie watched: drei haselnüsse für aschenbrödel (which is the same answer i gave in a tag game a few weeks ago lol)

last tv show watched: it's been months since i've watched any show, but i think it's the witcher.

last book/fic finished: the last book i finished is to kill a kingdom by alexandra christo (only took me one and a half years). i'm not sure about the last fic, probably something from the kinkmeme idk.

last book/fic abandoned: the last book i abandoned (for now) is bleak house by charles dickens. i technically had to read it for a seminar, but it's just too fucking long. as for fics, i don't really "abandon" any, i just keep them in my library (marked for later section) until i get to them, whenever that may be.

currently reading: as per the previously mentioned older tag game, i'm still reading the picture of dorian gray by oscar wilde. since my last answer, i have made zero progress.

last thing researched for writing/art/hyperfixation: does frantically looking for the right pictures of alex albon in red bull gear as well as articles about him leaving/them sacking him at 3am count?

favourite online fandom memory: honestly just discovering that there was fanfiction beyond x reader stuff was eye-opening. the first few m/m k-pop fics i read had such a huge impact on me, i can still recite the plot down to the smallest details.

favourite old fandom you wish would drag you back in/have a resurgence: it's not old per se, but the pedro pascal girlies (gn) seem to be having a great time atm. i had my pedro moment in 2019/2020 when i watched triple frontier for the first six times, but maybe i should revisit that.

favourite thing you enjoy that never had an active or big fandom, but you wish it did: i've been thinking about this for ten minutes, i can't think of anything. if something comes to my mind later, i'll just add it then. EDIT: my best friend and i have an unhealthy obsession with the film napola (more specifically, max riemelt in it. the film itself is quite dark), but barely anyone even knows it. devastating.

tempting project you're trying to rein in/don't have time for: i'm currently trying to learn how to make web weaves because i have a bunch of ideas, but uni comes first unfortunately.

zero pressure tags in case you want to do this: @wanderingblindly @piastrisms @hrhgeorgerussell @bright-and-burning @liamlawsonlesbian

#tag games

[zoobelle]

10 legs, 8 broken

"To the spider, the shadowed creature in the corner of the room i hate you. You scared me just as your brothers and sisters did before you, and i will tell you what i told them, You are a trespasser that does not belong here. You entered without knocking. Roamed freely like this is your home and decorated my walls with unwanted, silk webs without asking. You may not be the only killer here, but only one of us is innocent, and it's not you. The spider says to me, it's brittle body squashed and dying, It's not you, either. There is venom infused in my fang-shaped maws, but i was born this way. What's your excuse? If you could count your murders, how long would you be counting? Am i really this threatening? I thought human hearts were bigger that mine, but you have killed with malice instead of marrow of your bones and poison bubbling behind your scowl And i'm sorry for scaring you, but i didn't know being seen would cost me my life. Maybe If you didn't fabricate the prickly feeling of my legs creeping upon your skin while I crawled across the living room floor, If the webs I weaved were made of cotton candy and captured clementines, cherries, and sweet peas rather than struggling wings and blood; If i had a pink tongue, plush fur, a wagging tail, and four legs instead of eight If i had only two eyes, and they were glittering stars and not supermassive black holes; If i was the same but looked different; maybe you wouldn't hate me. Maybe you wouldn't have loved me, either, and maybe you still wouldn't have let me stay, but maybe you would've shown me the door or a window. Maybe you would've shown me mercy. (But you are still standing, and I am still sorry). I think maybe, no matter how reluctant, mercy would've been enough."

By tiktok user @user68519586

#entomology #nature #spiders #arachnophobia #arachnid #poem #poetry

[ovur]

To the spider,

the shadowed creature in the corner of the room

i hate you.

You scared me just as your brothers and sisters did before you,

and i will tell you what i told them,

You are a trespasser that does not belong here.

You entered without knocking.

Roamed freely like this is your home and decorated my walls with unwanted, silk webs without asking.

You may not be the only killer here, but only one of us is innocent,

and it's not you.

The spider says to me, it's brittle body squashed and dying,

It's not you, either.

There is venom infused in my fang-shaped maws,

but i was born this way.

What's your excuse?

If you could count your murders, how long would you be counting?

Am i really this threatening?

I thought human hearts were bigger that mine, but you have killed with malice instead of marrow of your bones and poison bubbling behind your scowl

And i'm sorry for scaring you,

but i didn't know being seen would cost me my life.

Maybe

If you didn't fabricate the prickly feeling of my legs creeping upon your skin while I crawed across the living room floor,

If the webs I weaved were made of cotton candy and captured clementines, cherries, and sweet peas rather than struggling wings and blood;

If i had a pink tongue, push fur, a wagging tail, and fur legs instead of eight

If i had only two eyes, and they were glittering stars and not supermassive block holes;

If i was the same but looked diffeent;

maybe you wouldn't hate me.

Maybe you wouldn't have loved me, either, and maybe you still wouldn't have let me stay,

but maybe you would've shown me the door or a window.

Maybe you would've shown me mercy.

(But you are still standing, and I am still sorry).

I think

maybe,

no matter how reluctant,

mercy would've been enough.

#long

[mizukijary]

Ten Legs, Eight Broken

To the spider,

the shadowed creature in the corner of the room

i hate you.

You scared me just as your brothers and sisters did before you,

and i will tell you what i told them,

You are a trespasser that does not belong here.

You entered without knocking.

Roamed freely like this is your home and decorated my walls with unwanted, silk webs without asking.

You may not be the only killer here, but only one of us is innocent,

and it's not you.

The spider says to me, it's brittle body squashed and dying,

It's not you, either.

There is venom infused in my fang-shaped maws,

but i was born this way.

What's your excuse?

If you could count your murders, how long would you be counting?

Am i really this threatening?

I thought human hearts were bigger that mine, but you have killed with malice instead of marrow of your bones and poison bubbling behind your scowl

And i'm sorry for scaring you,

but i didn't know being seen would cost me my life.

Maybe

If you didn't fabricate the prickly feeling of my legs creeping upon your skin while I crawled across the living room floor,

If the webs I weaved were made of cotton candy and captured clementines, cherries, and sweet peas rather than struggling wings and blood;

If i had a pink tongue, push fur, a wagging tail, and fur legs instead of eight

If i had only two eyes, and they were glittering stars and not supermassive block holes;

If i was the same but looked different;

maybe you wouldn't hate me.

Maybe you wouldn't have loved me, either, and maybe you still wouldn't have let me stay,

but maybe you would've shown me the door or a window.

Maybe you would've shown me mercy.

(But you are still standing, and I am still sorry).

I think

maybe,

no matter how reluctant,

mercy would've been enough."

This poem has shattered me.

#ten legs eight broken #spider poem #tiktok spider poem #quotes #poem #poetry

[outworldletters]

Horn Over Heels For You! | Arataki Itto x Reader

Pairing: Arataki Itto x Reader

Summary: Arataki Itto did not let you leave for Sumeru Akademiya without declaring his love for you. Still, you left for your studies, leaving him wondering if you would still have a space for him in your life after growing so much and meeting new, interesting people - people who are less rough around the edges.

After all, what does he bring to a relationship besides a big heart and a loud mouth?

Word Count: 1.2k

Morning, Sunshine!

Are you reading this just as you wake? Or getting ready to hit the sack? Either way, you light up my world, so I'm gonna kick off these letter thingies like this! Darkness ain't a thing when you're on my mind!

Aww, I got kinda sappy. But shhh, keep it on the down-low, alright? I am a total tough cookie. A badass oni-cookie!

I'm gonna write to you every day when you're away. So, if this ever bugs you, you better keep me closer.

Look, the thing is, I know you want to paint instead of burying your pretty face in books. So, I thought, maybe I could paint your beautiful smile in a way only this Oni-king can? So, what do ya say? Do you want to hear a story?

There was once a tarantula, living alone and minding her business in a dark corner.

If you were a little critter, what do you think you would be? You look all soft and fluffy like a moth, and strong and fierce like a big ol' tarantula. Yeah, I know, it's weird. They're both bugs, but you remind me of a mix of both.

What?! But tarantulas are beautiful and elegant! And it's not all about looks. They're calm and quiet like you, but will attack if threatened. And... Yeah, I think it's still a compliment. 

I'm my own sorta of spider, ain't I? I weave words into a web that catches a cutie like you! 

I'm sorry, that was bad. Hahaha.

Anyway! I was telling you a story.

The little tarantula was a pretty tough girl, but sometimes even the best of us wish we had someone to talk to and share our troubles. So, this little spider decided to give herself a little challenge: she'd use her skills to make two gifts, and then offer them to the first person she met.

The first gift was a fluffy blanket of her finest silk, soft as soft can be... and the other was the most fiddly poison.

Well, the first person that met little Miss Tarantula took the bait of the soft, fluffy blanket, thinking it was the greatest gift ever given. So, he went back to her cozy corner, tucked herself into the blanket and was lulled to sleep, never to wake up…

But, the second person to meet up with her... chose the bite. And even if it made them sweat and shake and want to scream, it cured them all of their woes and worries. They could finally live free, free of all fear and pain.

The point is, sometimes what appears as the greatest thing ever isn't really what you need; what you need isn't always what it looks like. It's about making a choice between what looks like the most comforting, perfect thing in the world, or picking something scary but necessary to move forward.

It's about knowing what you really need and making that call, not settling for something just because it looks safe. I get that, y'know? I get it, Sunshine.

I am not angry or sad because you left.

You didn't want to make that choice... But you did, didn't you? You took the bite. I know you're worried about whether we made the right call. But I have no doubts.

I'm proud of ya. You're brave, for leaving everything you know and choosing to honor your Vision. 

Listen, the distance is hard on both of us, no doubt about it. But you, me, us? We got this. There ain't nothing keeping us apart. Not when our bond is this strong. 

After all, if you were not strong enough to take the bite, you would never choose to date me either. So I am glad this is who you are.

It ain't everyone's jam to date an Oni, y'know? But it's the rough parts of me that make you laugh and get excited, isn't it? Like the first time you met me and I showed you my collection of beetles, and they started crawling all over you. But anyways, I'm rambling.

The thing is, the tarantula from that story? Yeah, I don’t like her a bit.

That little spider was trying to trick that second person into showing trust, right? That's why she did that whole “bite or blanket” routine. It was almost like she cared about what people thought more than making her own choices.

You and I, we choose to be vulnerable to each other, no matter what. I'm never afraid to admit my fears or to tell you when I'm feeling hurt or upset. And you can always tell me what's bothering you, so we can work together and figure it out. Right?

I gotta tell ya, I was scared, too, when I knew you had to leave. I was worried sick that once you got settled with your new studies, you'd forget all about me.

It's just my paranoia, y'know? It's the thought that I'll wake up one day, and you'll suddenly tell me about a more attractive, more... polished guy you met at school. And... that you wouldn't want to be with the guy with the horns and the fangs after all.

Even just writing about it makes me sick to my stomach, it's just-

Do you think I'm too rough around the edges for you? Am I holding you back?

I mean, you're a smart person going off to a big school and learning so much, and what do I bring to the table? A big heart? A loud mouth? It just feels like there's something inside you that needs much more than what I can offer.

I am not like that tarantula at all. That's cuz I'm me. I don't need to try to trick people or test them to make them take a bite from me. What you see is what you get from me.

And what I offer you is love, Sunshine. A love you wouldn't have to look hard to find. I wouldn't try to trick ya into showing you my affection. I can be rough, or I can be gentle, but it's always honest.

All your quirks, your insecurities, your talents, I would love every bit of it. And I would do my best to keep your chin up when you're feeling down. I wanna be the one you come to with good news, and the one who comforts you when you're feeling lonely. And most of all, I want to make you smile.

You're gonna do great. You'll make new friends and make all these dreams of yours come true. You'll keep growing, learning, taking the risks you want to take. If it ever gets tough, remember, I'm right here. I'll be your comfort cushion, your warm blanket. I'll be whatever you need, right? Just tell me, and I'll be there, okay?

I guess in the end, it's just about showing your heart, no tricks or tests, no tests or traps... Just being honest and loving, huh? Heh, and it ain't so complicated after all. But hey, if you'll allow it, please accept this gift.

The softest blanket ever: my strong arms!

You can always count on me. Even if I'm far away, it's so easy to make it feel like I'm holding you in my arms all over again.

Just remember... I will never, ever let you walk alone.

Arataki “horns over heels for you” Itto

#Arataki Itto #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #arataki itto x you #arataki itto x y/n #cross posted on ao3 #reality shifting #love letters #tooth rotting fluff #genshin fluff #genshin x reader #genshin letter #outworld letters #Long-Distance Relationship #Epistolary #Character Study #genshin arataki #arataki x reader #arataki gang

[sassy-ahsoka-tano]

DADDY ISSUES - Part Seven: Friends

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Prompt: Now that you're all moved in and set up, what do you have to look forward to in your relationship as Elvis Presley's sugar baby? [ Fem!Reader ]

TW: sad reader, angst, guilt/shame as a result of sexual activity, elvis being a bit of a fucktard ngl

Rating: M || Word Count: 3985

A/N: i hope y'all are enjoying still!! i can't tell you how many ideas spurred while writing these chapters. i literally had a web of ideas that i somehow managed to weave all into this little fic lol

Song Rec: friends - anne marie and marshmello

This is Part 7 of Daddy Issues. Find the rest of the series here!

[ masterlist | taglist ]

🦋 mila

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“Am I allowed to date or see other people or is this an exclusive thing?”

Elvis’ eyebrows shoot up when you ask the question and you can tell that he wasn’t expecting it. His eyes drop to the floor and eyebrows furrow as he considers what you’ve asked. After a few moments of tense silence, he clears his throat and glances back up at you with a tight smile.

“Course you can see other people. We ain’t an item or nothin. It’s just a convenient relationship for both of us. Doesn’t mean we can’t be friends, but doesn’t mean we gotta be lovers neither.”

You nod, offering a small smile. His eyes fall to your finger and he smirks.

“That’s a good girl. Lemme see,” he says, scooting forward and holding out his palm.

You drop your hand into his and he gently runs his fingers over it with the hint of a smile on his face. His calloused fingertips ghost over your knuckle and then onto the ring resting snugly on your finger. You take a deep breath, the feeling of your touch on his palm making you giddy and excited.

“See you doin so good already followin my rules. This ring’ll tell everybody important that you’re with me. Looks good on ya, princess,” he says with a nod. “You like it?”

“Oh absolutely, Mr. Presley,” you say, automatically defaulting to his proper name. You feel like you should treat him respectfully, or maybe you’re addressing him as your boss? You aren’t sure but the urge to be formal is suddenly extremely present in the room. “It’s the most beautiful ring I’ve ever seen and definitely not something that I could ever afford on my own. Thank you so much for gifting it to me.”

“Don’t mention it,” he says, waving dismissively. “It’s payment for our first appointment. This was the arrangement we agreed to and I stick to my promises. There’s more to come, I’m sure.”

Your lips part as you watch his gaze fade from sunny blue eyes to a dark, serious expression. He emphasizes the word come, pausing after he speaks the word. He draws it out, licking his tongue over his lips before finishing the sentence. You desperately hope you’re not reading too much into it, because you do desperately want him to be talking about you.

Everything in your body wants him to touch you and make you feel things you’ve never experienced in your life. The first time you saw him in 1956, you wanted him. Other girls may also want him, but not like you. They don’t want him like you do. The lust he planted then has done nothing but grow since that day. For god’s sake, it possessed you, the most unlikely person in the world, to slide out of your panties and offer them up to a complete stranger who you’d probably never see again. Elvis’ voice jerks you out of your awe.

“Which reminds me, what sorta payments do you want? I don’t wanna get you nothin you dont like.”

“Oh, uh, I guess I’ve never really thought about it. Well, I like necklaces and rings. Um, I’m more of a pants girl than dresses but I still like nice dresses and things. Um…”

“Noted,” he replies.

Silence settles as his eyes trace over your figure. You’re becoming more comfortable with him doing that, since he does it pretty constantly. The little problem of your debts and bills rises to the forefront of your mind and you consider adding to the list since that’s what you really need to be paid off, but before you can say anything else, he curls his finger and motions for you to come over to him.

Your core starts to swell with excitement and you actively fight the smile that wants to cross your face. You take a few steps closer to him and sit down on his lap, just as you had the other day. You already feel a bit more comfortable this time as you rest your hands on his chest and his hands gently cup your thighs. You stay still, waiting for instructions which he promptly provides.

“Tilt your head up for me,” he says and you gulp before obeying, lengthening your chin out so that he can see your neck better.

His fingers gently rise up toward your skin, ghosting across your throat and the sensitive skin underneath your jawline. Your eyes flutter and threaten to close but you force them to remain open. He just gently closes his fingers around your throat, not all the way but enough that your breath audibly shudders. You gulp your nerves down as your pussy begins to throb with desire for him. Just as you’ve resolved to lean down and kiss him, he pulls his fingers away.

“You got a pretty neck, princess. Perfect for my hand. I think a necklace would work nicely for you.”

You hover in the space between you, resisting the strongest urge to smash your lips against his. Your entire body is slowly aching for him, but is it okay for you to make a move? Despite his loveliness in answering your questions, you’re still confused as to how all of this works. Plus, now that you’re relying totally and completely on Elvis to sustain you financially, you’re terrified of making a mistake that’s unfixable. Just as your head begins to bob forward with a burst of confidence, your nerves get the better of you and you just hover anxiously. You clear your throat and Elvis continues the conversation.

“Is jewelry what you like best? Or dresses or what?”

“Um, I guess I’ve never really thought about it, honestly. I…don’t have much of a preference,” you reply with a lackluster shrug. “I could use some new clothes. But, of course the jewelry is also very nice. Um…sorry, I just feel very awkward saying these things.”

You laugh nervously but he shakes his head.

“Why’s that?”

“Well,” you suddenly laugh as you realize what it feels like and that image begins to surface in your mind, “honestly, it feels a bit like sitting on Santa’s lap and telling him what I want for Christmas. I’m just not very used to asking for things, like material things.”

“But that’s how you get what you want. Y'ask for it.”

“I guess so, yeah. But that’s usually not how it works for normal people, and it’s certainly never worked out that way for me. I hardly ever get what I ask or pray for. God has favorites and I really don’t think I’m one of them,” you reply with a weak chuckle. “Besides, I’m just not the kind of person who places a lot of value on material objects or gifts or anything. I don’t need all that many things, to be honest. Just the basics, although these are very tempting and it feels good to own them. They’re not really necessary in the grand scheme of things, you know what I mean?”

“But that’s what I’m here for. I ain’t got no issue giving you whatever you want. All you gotta do is ask, princess, and it’s yours.”

“I’m not used to that. People like me don’t just get the things we ask for. We have to work for them.”

“Not anymore, doll,” he smiles, leaning forward to whisper against your cheek. “Ask and it’s yours.”

You smile in awe as Elvis pulls back.

“Stand up, over there,” he gestures toward the middle of the room. You nod and carefully remove yourself from his lap to stand on the mark he’s given you. Once there, you await his directions. “Take the dress off. Just the top. I wanna see you better.”

You nod and turn away from him to spice things up. You shakily lift the strap of your dress up and off of your shoulder, glancing over your skin at Elvis who watches you hungrily. You let the strap fall, exposing the skin of your shoulder to him. The slow speed with which you’re stripping is putting both you and him through an uncomfortable tenseness that only grows when you drop the other strap down. The dress, being held up mostly by the straps, elegantly falls off your chest and pools around your waist where it’s cinched in a little tighter. You reach up for the strap to your bra, but Elvis stops you.

“No. There’s good enough,” he says. “Turn around.”

You obey him, spinning around so he can get a good look at your entire body. He rubs his slender fingers over his lips, tugging them out lazily. You stand still like a statue before him until he gestures for you to come closer.

“Come here. Right here. All the way this time.”

He points to the space between his legs, a spot that has become rather familiar to you already. You can’t help the smile that spreads onto your cheeks as you step toward him.

He leans forward, his fingers taking hold of your waist. They gingerly trail up the bare skin of your waist, so lightly that you feel goosebumps spreading across your skin. He traces his fingers around to your front, ghosting over your breasts underneath the bra. He curls his fingers around your chest and squeezes firmly. You release a contented breath and close your eyes at the sensation, what little of it there even is. It’s more than you’ve gotten from him so far. He squeezes a few more times, saying nothing, before he releases your breasts.

You instinctively follow his grasp as it retreats. Your eyes fly open in disappointment and he slides further down into the red velvet chair. He tugs gently on the zipper to his jumpsuit while staring intensely into your eyes.

“You know what to do, darlin."

Unfortunately, you do know what to do, although you’d love to do something else right now. It might only be the second time you’ve sucked him off, you hope this time will be different. You hope this time you’ll get to share in the receiving end. Glancing up into his bright blue eyes, you have an idea. You lean over him, trying to push your breasts near his face in the hopes that you’ll tempt him enough to put some effort into pleasing you. You pause for a few seconds, waiting for him to grasp your chest.

When he doesn't respond, you reach down to grasp the zipper. His hand snakes onto yours, gripping your fingers away from his suit. You glance up at him in confusion

"I liked what you did the other night with your teeth," he says, his eyes falling down to your lips. "Do it like that again."

You gently maneuver yourself onto the floor on your knees and catch the zipper between your teeth. This time, you unzip the jumpsuit slowly, maintaining eye contact with Elvis all the way down. You spread the leather of his jumpsuit aside so you can access him. His white boxer briefs are familiar to you now. You glance sneakily up at the clock in the corner of the room to see that you only have about five minutes until show time.

As much as you appreciate his trying to get to know you better, you’re desperate for some physical attention. You’ve been responsible for taking care of yourself for the last five years or so and, quite frankly, you’re just tired of it. Having a man touch you for once is a need that’s rekindled every time he dares to touch you.

But with only five minutes left, you waste no time, yanking his underwear off and wrapping your fingers around his length. You immediately start to pump him, licking the tip of his dick with your tongue. He releases a satisfied sigh and leans back into the chair. You glance up to see his head tilted toward the ceiling with his eyes completely closed. You feel pleased with yourself but frustrated at his passivity. You yank him into your mouth and harshly bob your head up and down on top of him.

He groans and moans in approval. Your eyes flash wide when his hand sneaks down your chest to massage your breasts through your bra. You hum against his length as he pinches your nipple between his fingers. You shift closer to him, hoping he'll touch you harder. While the sensation is very welcome, you need so much more.

As your head bobs up, your eyes flick up toward him again to see that he hasn’t moved, other than his hips which are beginning to buck up into your mouth as he matches your pace. You squeeze your eyes shut, suddenly feeling the urge to cry. You continue to bob up and down on his dick as you fight back the emotion that’s flooding into your chest painfully.

You feel him start to twitch in your mouth and pump your hand harder on his length. A few seconds later, his hips are bucking into your lips and his hot cum is slipping down your throat. You gulp it down begrudgingly, the taste almost sour on your tongue. Your body shudders with the displeasure of the action and the taste but mostly with how it made you feel at the moment.

You drop your head immediately, focusing on the floor below you as Elvis reassembles himself to go back out for the show which starts in just a few minutes. You squeeze your eyes shut tightly, wanting to transport yourself completely from this situation into a different time and place, somewhere you’re safe and alone. On his way out, Elvis places his hand on your head and gives your hair a little muss. His fingers slip down to your chin, lifting your gaze to his. You reluctantly open your eyes and he smirks down at you slightly.

“Such a good girl,” he murmurs before making his way toward the door.

You keep yourself upright until you hear the door shut behind him. As soon as the lock clicks, you feel your face screwing up. You keel over onto your hands and knees, your arms shaking with the emotion that is coursing through your body. You curl onto your knees and sit back on them, resting your forehead on the scratchy carpet below you. Tears start to pool by your eyes and you don’t stop them as the warm liquid falls from your eyes to stain the carpet below you. You curl your arms around your shoulders as your body shakes and you cry.

He had his chance to pleasure you and he didn’t take the hints, which you thought were very obviously being given to him. Now, it’s too late. You feel worthless, disgusting, dirty. You understand that you wholeheartedly gave yourself up to Elvis when you agreed to become his sugar baby but you assumed the arrangement would be mutual.

You should be stronger than this; this shouldn’t bother you so much. You are the one who agreed to this, who decided to accept the proposal. You’re just reaping the consequences of your actions, the ones Steve warned you about. But for some unplaceable reason, it hurts. A lot.

On the other hand, while you realize how silly and dramatic it is to be upset when you’ve just begun, the emotions that are running through your veins are so strong. And considering that you’ve relocated your entire life over the last week, it’s probably understandable that you’re feeling so overwhelmed.

After a few more tears sneak out, you sniffle and wipe your runny nose on your arm, not caring about the stickiness spreading onto your skin. You don’t have anyone to look pretty for anymore. And the one person you did choose to look nice for doesn’t seem to have any interest in you other than using you as a personal fleshlight. As moments of anger and embarrassment pulse through your veins, you pull yourself together with a few deep breaths.

You weren’t really in the mood for giving him a blowjob even when you got dressed to come downstairs tonight. But he asks and you provide. As he said earlier, ‘all you gotta do is ask and it’s yours’. As you dry your tears, that phrase starts to circle in your brain. Ask and it’s yours… If that’s what he wants. That’s what he’ll get. Why can’t you take the reins a little? You’re half of the deal, after all.

You stand, fix your hair and your dress, wipe off your tears and snot and grab your purse. You exit the dressing room with the confidence of someone who simply doesn’t have the will to care anymore.

As you trudge out of the dressing room, not bothering to pause before the door to listen for anyone passing, you keep your eyes glued to the floor beneath you. You shrug your bag over your shoulder and pull the bottom of your dress down harshly, trying to get the stubborn fabric to stay put. When your body slams into another, you momentarily lose your footing and feel yourself careening toward the floor. Luckily, whoever you bumped into manages to catch you at the last moment. With a panting breath, you glance up to see one of the most handsome men you’ve ever seen in your life. He helps you to your feet as you feel heat creeping into your face.

“Uh…thanks,” you say nervously. “I’m so sorry about that.”

He chuckles, leaning down to pick up your purse, which you hadn’t even realized you’d dropped during the collision. Your eyes widen as you notice the black lingerie poking out from inside the bag. You wonder if he notices, although he doesn’t mention or allude to it at all when he carefully hands the bag back to you. You snatch it quickly from his hands, sneakily reaching your hand in to push the lingerie back into its hidden place.

“It’s no big deal. It’s my fault for being so clumsy,” he says, flashing a crooked smile at you.

As his straight white teeth sparkle in the light of the hallway, you can’t help but grin back at him. A few moments of silence pass before one of you gets the courage to say something else.

“So…do you work here?” he asks, gesturing to your outfit.

“Oh, uh, sorta. I’m part of Mr. Presley’s…” your eyes wander quickly around your environment, desperately searching for an excuse that doesn’t involve your chest and face being covered in Elvis' cum. You suddenly see someone pass carrying a case of makeup and your face brightens. “...makeup crew. I’m one of his makeup consultants.”

“You do his makeup?”

“Well, I just sort of check it to make sure it’s up to standard, you know. The eyeliner and such,” you pull out as much knowledge of makeup as you can possibly access in your brain as your heart beats rapidly in your chest.

You know you shouldn’t be embarrassed to admit what you really do here, but you still feel too ashamed to fess up to it. You know there’s no way that this stranger is actually buying the idea that you’re a makeup artist for Elvis, considering what you’re wearing and the fact that your own makeup is probably smudged hideously from the crying and snotting all over.

“Cool. I’m one of the stagehands, so I carry some of the props onstage and help with the curtains and all that.”

“Oh, that’s super cool!” you say, folding your arms over your chest. “How did you get into that?”

“My mom was a singer back in the day, so I’ve always been around sets. How did you get into…what you do?”

“Oh, it’s just a job for money. There’s nothing that special about it, honestly.”

“Working that closely to Elvis Presley isn’t special?”

“He’s not as amazing as you’d think, actually,” you reply with a curt smile as you reflect on all the disappointments you’ve already experienced since becoming his sugar baby. “But it pays the bills.”

“I can understand that,” he says, staring down into your eyes.

You’ve been truthful with him, besides admitting what you do. Although you can’t explain why, you want this man to think highly of you. Elvis did say that you could date other people, so why shouldn’t you take a stab at this one. He’s handsome with curly brown locks, deep brown doe eyes, and a nicely shaped face. He’s very tall and decently built; you guess he has to be pretty strong to be able to toss set pieces around.

You abruptly stick your hand out for him to shake. His eyebrows raise but he takes your hand in his, giving it two solid pumps. You wiggle your fingers, assuming he’s going to release your hand but he holds onto it for a few seconds longer than you’re expecting. You smile sweetly as he releases your fingers slowly. You drag them across his palm and resist the urge to shudder with excitement.

It’s been upwards of five years since you last had a serious boyfriend, so the thought of maybe finding someone after all this time is extremely appealing. Not to mention that you’re desperate for some physical pleasure. With all of this teasing and leading-up to nothing, you’re starting to get fed up and very tired of the constant lack of tension relief.

“I’m Y/N,” you say.

“I’m-”

“Max!” someone shouts from a different spot in the backstage area. “Stop flirting and get your ass over here to help with the curtains!”

Your eyes shift toward a man yelling orders who you assume is in charge of the stagehands and the backstage activities. Max glances back at you with a shrug.

“Duty calls. Will I…see you here tomorrow?”

“Uh…no, probably not. I don’t think I work tomorrow and I have another job that I have to take care of on the side,” you lie, not too excited about the idea of coming down here more than necessary.

“Oh, damn. Well, what days do you work?”

“It’s sort of unpredictable, to be honest,” you can feel your palms growing sweaty with his constant questioning.

“Alright. Cryptic but alright,” he laughs, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck. You bite your lip as you watch his biceps flex. If you were wondering, your question has now been answered. He’s strong strong. “Guess I’ll just have to hang out around here every day until I see you again.”

“Oh…” you drop your gaze, embarrassed and flattered by his charming flirting. “Well in that case, maybe I can make an exception for you. Here.”

You snatch a pen from the table next to you and scribble the number to your hotel room on his palm.

“You can reach me here. If you ever want to hang out or need help or, well, whatever,” you offer.

“And what if I need something tonight? I can call you then?”

You chuckle and bite your lip at his goofy smile.

“You can call whenever. And I’ll decide if I want to pick up or not.”

“Max Carver!” the stage manager shouts and Max jumps.

“Well, it was nice to meet you, Max. I’ll hope to see you again some time.”

“If I have anything to say about it, you will," he replies with a wink and a handsome grin.

You turn and start on your way out of the backstage area as you hear the stage manager shouting instructions to Max. You smile to yourself, just a little bit smitten with him.

As you pass the trash can on the way out, you click open your purse and pull the black lingerie out. You drop it into the can and get on your way back upstairs without giving the piece of clothing a second thought.

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