Old news,

Tied myself in, tied myself too tight.

STORM WONDERED IF there was a world record for Longest Amount of Time Spent Tying Shoes. If there was, she hoped she was on the verge of breaking it. That would probably mean she'd stolen enough time.

"Babe, seriously, come on! We're gonna lose 'em!"

"Patience, Steve," she replied swiftly, looking at her laces with feigned concentration. She needed to buy a liiiitle more time.

The sky had just gotten dark and the two of them were outside Steve's garage, preparing to go on an epic tracking mission which he had aptly named Operation: Jim Fake Jr., Sub-operation: King of Speed and Finding Things and also Being the Best. (Steve spent a long time thinking up that second part, so Storm didn't have to stall nearly as long as she thought she did. Her boyfriend's brain was his own built-in laser pointer.)

"My God, we are so gonna get those little dweebs! I can't wait to get their little dweeb faces and their little dweeb voices and their little dweeb . . . shoes."

"Stop pacing, Steve."

"They're gonna be all like 'oh, woah, you caught us?' and I'll be like 'hell yeah, I did!', and it'll be like, so awesome!"

"Right," she rolled her eyes, "What are we catching them doing again?"

The scrape of shoes against sidewalk halted behind her. "Uh. I don't know. They're probably like, hiding Jim in some freaky underground basement because he won't come out to fight me 'cause he's a loooser."

A snort caught behind her lips. If only he knew how much of a fighter Jim really was. She was feeling that her laces were going to fray with the amount of times she'd undone them. Maybe she'd stalled enough.

Starlight glinted off the asphalt near her shoes. Tempted, she glanced up at the sky, a domain of endless proportions, and felt the marks under her eyes hum with the kiss of moonlight.

Storm was always more skillful when the moon was out—in every category. She felt brazen, calm, adaptable. A cloudless sky with pinches of starlight and a full, powerful moon, never failed to make her feel whole. Her bones felt firmer inside her, and her eyes could see and hold everything they wanted. At night, Storm had only one life, and there was no forgetting or uncertainty or fear. She had her one life, and it was with the moon.

"Perfect, you're up! Let's go, let's go, let's go!"

She wasn't even halfway up to a stand before Steve clapped in her face and tugged her a little too hard. She felt the ground slipping beneath her feet. Her shoes had knocked into each other and a sensible first instinct was to brace for a bruising fall.

It never came.

Reflexively, Storm felt moonlight slip itself beneath the soles of her shoes. With nothing but a thought and a thrum under her cheeks, her feet righted themselves without missing a beat. She always forgot how well magic suited her. How good she was at it when she tried. She could only do simple things, convenient things, but every morsel she knew felt like home. If only she knew where home was. Then maybe whenever she used it she wouldn't feel so bitter.

After she was back up, she fully expected Steve to haul her to the moped like a toddler on three cups of coffee. It was strange when a note of silence stuck in the air. When he didn't open his mouth. When, if she squinted, she could see a funny look in his eyes. Almost . . . skeptical.

Her stomach dropped. Un-tripping yourself wasn't a very natural thing. To a prying eye, it could look far less than normal. Especially if you'd done it a second too late. A foreign fear pitted inside her. Was it possible that Steve could catch onto her after all? Had she made the one mistake that would set him off on this warpath for good? God, this is why you don't use magic, shithead!

"Why are we just standing here? Let's go, Sherlock!" She tugged him this time, hoping her palms weren't as sticky as they felt.

Thankfully, she didn't think Steve was in the running for a stroke of genius anytime soon. He blinked and his eyes pooled back into their usual, ignorant blue. All was right in the world. "Now we're talking!"

Every time Steve boarded his moped, he did it in the most annoying way possible. It involved him throwing one of his legs over the scooter so forcefully it could send his shoe flying, sitting himself down so the vehicle shook, and then a minute-long check in the mirror to make sure his hair was where he wanted it to be.

Today, however, was the first time that mirror-check was cut short. The one day she actually needed it. As she tried making herself comfortable behind him, the motor roared to life and Steve cheered for no essential reason. They were out of the driveway before she could even get herself steady. A yell caught in her throat as they careened down the street. Sometimes she really did hate this moped.

"Jesus, Steve, slow down!" She winced as the wind battered her face.

"Justice slows for no man!" He proclaimed, raising a fist to the sky.

"Really? Because justice is messing up your hair!"

The scooter faltered. He went significantly slower after that.

They travelled down fairly empty roads with nothing but streetlamps to guide them. It was colder tonight. Storm pressed her cheek into Steve's back and mustered the tiniest, most ineffective spell to keep herself warm. It was the best she could do. Just because she was good at some magic didn't mean she was good at all of it. Her connection to her roots was weak. Not even the massive amounts of spite or laziness she had in her heart could fix that. She'd never be great at spellcasting, not really, but a little was better then nothing.

Steve mostly rode in silence, muttering to himself. She didn't even know where they were going. She didn't think it mattered. On multiple occasions she managed to jerk the wheel in the opposite direction and they'd swerve into a street Steve was trying to avoid, and then he'd swear and hit his moped controls and say he needed a new one. Sometimes she made them hit speed bumps. Other times she made the wind pick up. Other times she just sat quietly, chin snug on his shoulder, pleased that this was easier than she thought it would be, and pleased that she had his company. When nobody else was around, his barbaric tendencies were basically harmless, and he was reduced to a stupid teenage boy playing superhero. She could tolerate that.

The longer they drove, the darker it seemed to be. Streetlights grew sparse and there were no cars to make noise as they rattled past. It was quiet. When she focused, she heard squirrels clambering up trees and grass rustling. They were near the forest.

The nerves bit at her again. Surely the Trollhunters weren't still here, right? She knew they would've come here to collect the bridge pieces since the trees were so thick, but it had gotten dark a while ago. Surely she'd delayed Steve enough.

There was only one way to know for sure.

As he rolled the moped to a stop, giggling to himself, Storm closed her eyes. When she was lucky, and when she concentrated, she could sometimes feel the people around her. See their bodies in her mind. Her brain could turn into a map of her surroundings and she could search through it to find whomever she needed. The details were always hazy, and the map was never quite right, but the drum of a human soul was always enough to tether her once she found one. She just wished it would work every time without a hitch.

She tried this time. Breathed in. Breathed out. Willed the magic inside her to move up from her fingertips, climb through veins and arteries from every part of her body until they reached her mind. The image spread like a spiderweb. Neurons, creating pathways and lighting the way. There was something there, surely, just hard to reach.

The spark was short-lived. The little insight she found melted down into nothing again. She was left with a blankness behind her eyes and the sound of Steve cackling to himself. Great.

"Babe, pass me my trident?" Steve beckoned, and she unfortunately had to open her eyes. He was crouched on the floor like a goblin, sniffing a pile of dirt. The urge to roll her eyes was so physically strong that she thought her tendons were going to snap. She wrapped an arm around the hilt of his golden glorified laser-pointer and tossed it to him.

It hit him in the head.

"Nailed it," she said to herself.

After adjusting to the mild blow to the head (he turned away from her so she wouldn't see the tears in his eyes) he planted the butt of his staff to the ground and picked up a mound of dirt. He sniffed it. "They're close," he grinned.

She wondered if she could throw the staff at him a second time. " I'm sure they are. The dirt seems very trustworthy."

"Oh, babe. You have so much to learn about the art of detection," he simpered, gesturing for her to follow into the forest.

That path in her mind was itching at the back of her brain. It was getting clearer. She ventured after Steve, shoelaces pulled taut like a rope bridge. "Please, enlighten me."

THE FOREST WAS thick tonight. Trees hung densely and brambles scraped extra at her jeans. Maybe it was because she'd manipulated it to be like that. Maybe not. Either way, it was a benefit.

Steve was getting tired. He was huffing and puffing in front of her, sweat bleeding through his shirt. That dumb laser pointer was being used as a walking-stick/branch-remover, and his crown was askew. She didn't think Steve had ever gone hiking before, because you don't usually bring cheap meaningless memorabilia when you do it.

They'd been in circles. They'd been in deep, and still came out the shallow end. Steve had sniffed dozens of dirt piles, whacked bunches of plants, and squashed multiple bugs on their journey. "God, what is happening?" He groaned numerous times, chucking his hands up in the air and delivering a very painful kick to the stump of a tree.

"Steve, maybe we should go back," she said. "It's getting too dark. They're probably gone by now."

From his spot keeled over against a rotting tree, he glared at her. "What? No! Are you crazy? We're so close, I can taste that little dweeb's sweaty socks from here! Haven't you ever heard of perseverance, Storm?"

"Sure. How is your foot persevering after kicking all those trees?"

"I told you, I kick trees in case fruit falls out of them! That's how you get fruit, like, anywhere!" He huffed and continued into thicket.

"You have to be joking."

"I am so serious right now, babe!"

"I don't think you are."

"I ... I am!"

Storm questioned a lot of things about Steve, but her main one was always how the hell is this guy still walking on his own two feet? It seemed like his brain was constantly stuck inside a laundry machine. Whenever she was with him she felt like his guardian angel because it was a miracle he hadn't gotten himself killed yet.

Something snagged at the back of her mind. She nearly froze. There was an image struggling to come into focus, but it didn't really matter what it was. They're still here.

They were still here, and the forest was thinning out, and she could feel magic brimming around her, and oh no, they were close. They were too close.

"Steve, can we rest for a minute?" She looked around the forest, tried to pinpoint where the tugging was coming from, but the physical plane was blocking her vision. She'd have to try mapping things out again.

"No, we can't slow down!" He protested, trampling over a scraggly bush.

She was not going to take his stubbornness today. "Steve, stop. Just one second." He peeked back at her, and hesitantly began to take another step. "Steve."

His name cut through her teeth with frustration. It did that often—sometimes it didn't feel right coming out of her mouth. Steve knew when it felt like that too. That usually meant it was his cue to back down.

"Okay, fine," he murmured at last, grudgingly taking a seat on a tree stump. "One minute."

"Perfect," she said. She could deal with a minute.

A coolness washed over her. The forest seemed to bend in, like a canopy urging her to take shade. The path laid unclear in her mind was burning. She shut her eyes firmly and rooted her feet to the floor, feeling the ripples of history eroded into the earth.

She could find them.

The darkness parted, cracked apart to make way for man-made trails and trampled patches of grass. There was nothing truly physical about this map, nothing vibrant, but that's why it worked. Storm knew it was about the energies around her. And when the people you were looking for had a magical warhammer and a shadow staff, their energy wasn't exactly subtle. Somewhere in the roadmap of her brain she found them, filling her mind so completely she felt like they had been waiting for her. It was only Toby she could see, standing in front of a shadow portal, but she could feel Claire there too. It was good news that her magic worked.

The bad news was that they were far, far too close. Storm didn't know how long she could mindlessly manipulate a forest, but she felt herself getting more exhausted every minute. She needed to get Steve away from here fast. At least now she knew which route to take.

Greenery and humid spring air flooded her eyes as she pulled herself back to the real world. Her bones felt heavier. The Trollhunters' location was branded in her mind. She could feel them moving.

It was going to be tedious to convince Steve to get off his tree stump and head home, but Storm was nothing if not persuasive. And insufferable. She could use a bit of both. Shaking her head to rid herself of the last of the black spots swimming in her vision, she turned towards the stump to get this over with.

Unfortunately, she could not get it over with. Because her stupid boyfriend was no longer at the stump.

"You have got to be fucking kidding me right now." She cursed. "Steve? Steve?"

A bird chirped somewhere just to spite her. She whipped around, peering through thistles and pines, but Steve was nowhere among them. He wasn't there. She'd lost him. Great!

"Fuuuuuuck," she paced, resisting the compulsion to scream. "Shit. Fuck. Fuck."

A tug at the back of her head. She looked up. The moon was still hanging low above her, spreading light over everything she could see. If she squinted, she thought she could see the craters carved into its soil.

Whatever. Didn't matter. Dumb fucking moon.

She was too frustrated for this. The tug came again, nestled in the crooks of her mind-map, and she couldn't grasp it. There was no time for her to recollect herself, or clear her head. She needed to find Steve before he found the Trollhunters first. Holding onto nothing but a blurry feeling sifting around her head, she tore her eyes away from the sky and held onto whatever magic she could to guide her.

There was no time to waste. She took off through the forest, following the traces of Steve in her mind-map. He was trampling through bushes like an oaf. Whenever his foot came down her head started to itch. Mother Merlin, how could she lose him? This was the fucking worst!

Toby was still anxiously waiting in front of the shadow portal, but she couldn't quite get where in the forest he was. If Jim was there, it would be easier—his amulet was Storm's guiding force whenever she lost them. Ever since he'd left for the Darklands, a spark had been missing from his friends. Perhaps even from her. She had felt the balance of Arcadia tilt. However much she hated to admit it, they really needed to get him back. They really needed to bring Jim home.

Curses tumbled out of her as she whacked through tangles of foliage. Branches dragged long, thin scratches up her arms, and she thought about taking a moment to mutter a spell under her breath and burn them. A knot was tying in her chest. Not even the moon could quell her sense of impending doom.

It was cramped in this forest, and the humidity was suffocating her, and for the love of all things holy, WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU STEVE!

Her navigation was getting muddled. All the images she could barely sense were compressing inside her head, fading at the edges until she was too frustrated to drag them out. She was struck by a truly horrible, dreadful feeling.

Somewhere off to the left, she heard something. Words. Her heart dropped to her stomach.

Storm ripped through whatever was in her way, every bone in her body wrought with agitation. "I know he's out here! Where is that big phony?" Steve's voice got louder, spiralling into the sky, and she wished more than ever that she was an experienced witch and not someone's unwanted ward. She wished that she had lived a life as somebody else.

Because then maybe what happened next wouldn't have ... happened.

A clearing broke open in front of her. She stopped herself just in time, sinking into the shadows of a tree. There were heaps of boxes piled on one end of the clearing. Some large, oddly-shaped rocks had tumbled out of them, scattered on the ground, huge chunks of something incomplete. And strangely enough, there were ... symbols on some of them.

Wait—those weren't rocks.

Those were the bridge pieces. The Killahead bridge pieces. They'd found them.

A giddy feeling she hated rose in her belly. She had to bite down on her tongue to stop from smiling. They were collecting the pieces! They could bring Jim home!

On a more urgent note, however, Steve was threatening Toby by the collar of his shirt. In the middle of an unformed troll bridge. With a shadow portal set to appear any minute.

"I fucking hate this job," she swore as quietly and as generously she could.

Sweat creased across Toby's forehead. It was the sign of being worn down by a very persistent bully with a one-track mind. And sometimes, the only way to get them to move on is to keep the track moving. "You know what? Jim is here! In fact, let me go get him. You stay right there. Don't you move!"

Toby darted to the other edge of the clearing and ducked behind a tree. She had no idea what he had up his sleeve but it didn't matter, because by the time he'd get back Steve would be knocked out cold.

Digging for a spell in an unorganized mind was much like digging for mismatched socks. Meg wasn't right about a lot of things, but she sure was right when she said that. Storm could only remember fragments of what she hoped was a sleeping spell, but could've been a sneaking spell, a smoking spell, a spinning spell, or a snorkelling spell. None of them were particularly useful. (She didn't even want to think about what the snorkelling spell would do.)

She murmured the words under her breath and pictured them flowing into Steve, but the second they left her mouth they felt stale and disjointed. When nothing happened to him, she just tried again. After that didn't work, she slumped against her tree and thought about concussing herself.

Whatever else she could do was cut short when Toby emerged from behind the tree again—except it wasn't Toby.

"Hey . . . whaat is up, Steve?" Said the lanky, spindly Jim Lake Jr, who sounded about as unsure as Steve looked confused.

He stalked up to Jim, practically sniffing the air like a dog. "Where did Fart-face go? Huh? What's going on?"

Storm almost lost her mind for a moment, but then she remembered that Toby had been wearing a glamour mask for weeks to trick Jim's mom into thinking he was still home. She'd discovered that after the devastating conversation Toby and Claire had had after they came back to the surface after Jim's departure. That was also when she'd found out Jim had left to begin with. Definitely one of the most depressing conversations she'd eavesdropped on.

"Nice thinking, Toby," she whispered. Only the shadows and the moon could hear her, which she was grateful for. They were always good company.

"We're just, uh, making a fort," Toby-Jim shrugged. You could tell just by looking at him that he was not in his own body. Every movement was aimless. And whenever he spoke his eyebrows raised as if he'd never heard himself before. "It's pretty cool, I know. But—you can't be part of it, so you gotta go."

Toby-Jim put both hands on Steve's chest and pushed, but all it produced was a weak grunt. Looked like Toby hadn't inherited Jim's strength.

Fizz, she didn't have time to pay attention to this. She needed to find a way to get Steve out of there—without Toby-Jim seeing her, ideally. She didn't want to be on their radar. Could she just take Steve? Turn invisible? Erase his memory? What if she didn't know how? What if she erased other things? She couldn't believe thirty minutes ago she thought she was good at magic!

Toby trying to move Steve was going nowhere. "You're right! Mystery solved! Jim Lake disease is fake, guilty as charged! Now, run along—and tell the world—away—from—here!"

Steve flicked Toby-Jim off him like a fly. "Mm, I see what's going on here," he chuckled, relishing in what he thought was a triumph. "Not until you bow down and call me king."

Storm slapped a hand against her forehead. Nevermind. Maybe this wouldn't be an issue at all. She forgot this was Steve she was talking about. He was as sinister and as believable as a cootie catcher.

"Seriously?" Toby-Jim blinked. "That's all you want?"

Steve lurched forward, "Say it! Oh, no, no, wait. I'm gonna record it so everyone can see it! Say 'I'm the King!'" He pulled out his phone and a harsh light took over his face. From where Storm was standing, it made him look like a cheap supervillain.

Getting momentarily humiliated online was a fair price for keeping the biggest secret in the universe, so Toby-Jim took the deal without hesitation, and not a second too soon. To Toby and Storm's horror, an inkling of a shadow portal was starting to appear behind Steve's head. If he turned around he'd unravel something much larger than a fake disease.

"God, no," Storm started to worry. Like, worry-worry. For the second time tonight there was an authentic fear that Steve Palchuk would know something he shouldn't.

"Alright, alright!" Toby-Jim panicked, dropping to his knees. "Oh-ho-ho, I'm bowing, almighty king, ruler of Arcadia! I bow down to you!" He fanned Steve as graciously and as obnoxiously he could, keeping the attention away from the black wormhole of doom getting larger and larger behind him. As much as Storm knew this was a bad time, she really wanted this to play out for her own amusement.

"Loser," Steve snickered. He tucked his phone into his back pocket and turned. Storm melted into the shadows. If he saw her, things would go really south really quick.

The portal fluctuated inches from his head.

"Wait wait wait," Toby-Jim stammered, bringing Steve back around. She let out a breath. "I—I'm not done bowing down to you yet! You're not just—you're not just the king of Arcadia, you're . . . the king of awesomeness! And, uh, master of the animals and the sky and . . . woodland creatures!"

Okay. He was overdoing it just a bit. At least it gave Storm time to figure out what to do. Should she try to close the portal? Try to open it quicker? Would Claire feel her tampering?

"And what about the oceans?" Steve grinned, and she couldn't believe he was actually buying into this.

"Yes! Lord of the oceans!" Toby-Jim said earnestly. There was so much mortal fear in his eyes that it almost made her snort.

"Right! We can go bigger! How about the world? I am the king of the world!"

What if she just ... knocked Steve out? Like, physically? Could that work? It wouldn't matter if Toby saw it, because there was no magic involved, right? That wouldn't tie her to any sorcery or months of secret meddling. It would just be ... inconvenient.

She looked around. A few puny twigs lay crumpled on the floor, but that was about it. There was nothing thick or sturdy enough to do the job. She could make one of the bridge pieces levitate and chuck it at his head, but again, that would give her away. Ugh, she wished she knew more spells. Why was it so hard to knock out her longtime boyfriend whom she liked very much?

Well, she didn't like him right now. He was harassing poor Toby at this point, stabbing him in the chest with that dumb laser pointer no matter how many times Toby asked him to leave. She loved Steve, she really did, but it would be so much easier to say it if he didn't get so awful.

"Come on, dude, stop it, Steve!" Toby slapped the pointer away from him.

"Why do you want me to go?" He goaded, prodding Toby again.

"I said, stop it!"

Toby lunged for Steve but the staff against his stomach kept him at a distance. Steve just watched, entertained, until he grabbed Toby himself and wrung him by the shoulders. "I've been looking forward to this for a long time!" With a grunt, he yanked Toby-Jim up, but Toby-Jim did not move. "How the heck are you so heavy?"

"I'm not that heavy!"

Steve snarled. He took Toby by the shoulders again and flung him as hard as he could, sending him flying. Storm gritted her teeth. This had gone on long enough.

As Toby-Jim landed against a tree, he turned into just Toby again. The glamour mask slid off into the clearing, only a few steps away from her. Without time to debate, she knelt down and slipped her hand beneath the worn, ornate mask. She felt the magic held inside it ease her strife.

"Wh-where'd he go?" Steve huffed, struggling to his feet after that throw. All he could see was Toby hunched against the roots of a tree, touching a face that was once again his own. "Your friend just ran off. Where'd he go?"

Storm studied the mask. It was old. She could tell by the lines of battle in it and the way it warmed her bones. It was a burnt orange, detailed white, but when she held it, it started to look less like a mask and more like a face. Jim's face.

She looked back up at Toby and Steve. The latter had Toby pinned against the tree, smiling wickedly. He looked nothing like the boy who hiked through the woods with her, or the boy who brought her muffins in the morning when she asked. He looked mean. Unforgiving. Like his father.

"You leave Jim alone!" Toby spat.

"He just ran off and left you," Steve taunted, taking a fistful of Toby's collar and staggering him to the ground. "What kind of friend is that?"

"Shut up! He's coming back! I—I know he's coming back!" Toby's voice came out pleading, praying, but not to Steve, and perhaps not even to any God looking down on him. Perhaps it was just for himself. Or a girl lingering in the bushes, pleading for the same thing too.

She had gotten sloppy with her secret helpings recently, and she almost entirely attributed it to how desperate everyone had become—including herself. She'd knocked over empty pop cans following them through alleys, erratically rerouted the fists of monsters mere moments before disaster, and had been tampering more urgently with magic wherever she could. Jim going to the Darklands alone dislodged something in all of them. She loathed it but a part of her felt betrayed by him, even though she wasn't even a part of the team. Even though she had removed herself from the narrative. They didn't know she existed despite a part of her wanting them to, but still she found herself wishing that there was a way she could fix this on her own. A way where these humans wouldn't have to suffer the way they did.

Storm had stayed awake a handful of nights trying to find Jim in her mind. She had never been strong enough to do any particularly tactful magic, so she didn't know why she was so upset there was barely anything she could do. She didn't know why tears embalmed her eyes when the sun was not yet out, after hours of searching and spell casting and meeting dead ends.

Without the Trollhunter, without the person Storm had taken upon herself to protect, the smallest things felt dire and consequential. Something was changing. Rapidly. The Trollhunters didn't know about it. All they wanted was Jim back because he was their friend. Storm wanted Jim back for other reasons. She couldn't shake this strange, grim premonition. This nightmare carved layers deep into her mind. Every night she was torn awake with the same evil thought:

If they waited too long to get Jim, he would not come out the same.

If they waited too long, he would bring a war with him.

There was something deeper than Trollmarket buried beneath Arcadia. Storm just wished she was powerful enough to find it.

The portal kept opening and closing. It struggled to stay present for more than a second, straining against the air around it. Claire was having problems finding an anchor. Toby was having problems finding a path away from Steve.

She glanced back down at the mask in her ghostly hands. Maybe she could take care of two birds with one stone. Or three, if she killed herself in the process.

The moon stung her as she watched it one more time. It seemed to coat her eyes over with a film of mystery, telling her look now, like this. There are only so many paths you can take. Find the right one.

When she lowered her chin back to her boyfriend and the boy he had in his clutches, she had an instinct so powerful it almost made her afraid. A path was right in front of her. All she had to do was take a step. And pray it wasn't the wrong one.

✧ HELLOOOOOOO ANYBODY HOME HELLOOOOOOOO

✧ I've had this chapter in my drafts for so long! I've just been scared to come back for a while but I bit the bullet and here it is!! It was originally one chapter but I split it in 2 so the next update should be soon :))

✧ Storm and Steve are actually my favourites everrr. She is deeply serious pretending to be unserious he is unserious pretending to be serious. Match made in heaven!! Veryyy excited for next chapter because the cat is closer and closer to being let out of the bag and I can only wonder what will happen next🤔 I guess we'll see🤔

✧ Don't know if the toa fandom is nearly as alive as it was but either way I'm going to continue this story the way I want to!! Thank you so much for every vote and every comment left so far, & I really hope you keep sticking with the story <3 I'm so excited to spread the stormdouxie agenda as far as i possibly can!! I appreciate all of you that have taken the time to read this—I really did miss writing silly little stories about silly little people so much. One of God's great gifts.

✧ Seriously thank you, & I hope to see you next time. Leave a comment on ur fav part of the chapter, and maybe some predictions about the next one? If you want? Maybe? Hmmmmm

✧ Take care of yourselves :)) will see you next time!

—perrie <3