You do not need to be familiar with Stardew Valley to enjoy this story, though I certainly encourage you to buy and play what has long been my favorite game. Regardless of whether you do so or not, do not feel offput by being "new" to Stardew. Please read on and enjoy, my friend.

The view was stunning, even from the worn seat of a rickety old bus. Though the air inside was stifling, it was the countryside which took his breath away. Through tea-colored windows he could make out distant mountains rising like deific hands clasped protectively around a bounty of verdant hills and sweeping pastures. Flashes of rich reds and deep purples flickered along the roadside, melding into an ever-changing mosaic as they passed budding bushes by. Percy had seen many beautiful sights in his lifetime—from the streets of Olympus to the gardens of Persephone to the paradise island of Ogygia—and Stardew Valley rivaled them all.

He had only one person for company on his ride into the country—a rather cheery woman named Emily. Though Percy was a fan of her and her very blue hair, a part of him was concerned that she was almost too friendly. There was just something about her decision to sit next to the only other passenger on an otherwise completely empty bus that didn't sit right with his inner New Yorker. That besides, she'd hardly allowed a moment of silence on the entire trip, and there were only so many personal questions he could vaguely answer before he grew tired of evasively discussing himself.

Though he believed her curiosity was born out of genuine interest and compassion, there was an element to it that felt disingenuous. It was hard to imagine any person was able to exude positivity to such a degree without sacrificing some authenticity. That wasn't to say that Emily was fraudulent in her kindness or joy. Only that a smile as wide and unfading as hers could be a wall as much as it could be a window.

Whatever troubles the woman might or might not have had, Percy never got the chance to discover them. By the time he managed to turn the conversation onto her and her interests, the ancient bus was already rolling to a stop.

"Well, it was nice to meet you," Emily said, smile still carved onto her face as she stood, "Once you get settled in you should come on down to the saloon. Most of the town stops by on Fridays—it'd be a good chance to meet everybody!"

She didn't wait around to see if he was interested. Before he could fully consider the offer, she was already shouting her goodbyes and heading off in the direction of town. Inspired by her brevity, Percy scooped up his paltry luggage, offered his parting thanks to the gruff driver, Pam, and disembarked.

As he touched down on Valley soil for the first time, he was struck by a presence he'd felt only once before. Pan. The air all around was filled with his touch. The sunlight filtering through the clouds was enlivening. The dirt underfoot was rich. In the distance, he could feel water so clean a thousand sand dollars couldn't purify it any further. A deep, gut-wrenching longing wracked his soul as he was given a small taste of a world that he never got the chance to know. A world where places like this were more than just a fading memory. He was so caught up in that feeling that he didn't notice the approaching footsteps until they were right beside him.

"Believe me," a woman's voice interrupted, "You don't ever get used to it."

He jumped at the sound of her voice, hand instinctively reaching for the pen in his pocket. Thankfully, he was able to stop himself well short of attacking the kindly looking woman who'd come to greet him. She looked to be about Paul's age, perhaps a bit younger, with hair as orange as a blazing fire and a smile twice as warm. A thick southern drawl stuck like molasses to each word as she rushed out an apology for startling him, followed shortly thereafter by a hand extended in greeting.

He shook it gladly, smiling with her when he felt calluses thick enough to compete with even the most work-obsessed Hephaestus kids. He found it much easier to trust someone when he could feel they weren't afraid of an honest day's work.

"I'm Robin, the town carpenter," she introduced, "And I really meant what I said. The valley hasn't shown me a second of ugly in the last forty years!" Her voice dripped with pride as she spoke as if she had been the one to go through and plant all the trees, sculpt each mountain, and guide every river.

"That's quite the streak you had! I'm sorry for ending it like this." Percy replied, gesturing at his travel-worn clothes.

"Oh, don't sell yourself short, sweetie. My daughter's no romantic, but even her little heart might explode when she sees you."

"I'll try to keep away, then," Percy promised, "I don't need to be responsible for any cardiac events."

Robin flashed one of those patented 'my-kid-is-so-special' grins that only a parent can wear.

"If anyone could survive it, she could," Robin said with pride in her voice, "She's a registered nurse. Works down at the town clinic. She's a real go-getter!"

"Forget what I said, then. I'll be seeing her plenty. Getting injured is my specialty."

Robin chuckled

"You sound just like me. I've broken more bones than a paleontologist with Parkinson's."

Percy frowned.

"Do they… Do they break a lot of bones?"

"Enough for there to be a saying about it!"

He didn't have the heart to tell her that nobody had ever said such a ridiculous thing in the history of mankind, so he just shrugged. Robin must've mistaken his withholding as a sign of big-city zeal, because her small-town insouciance vanished with the fall of his shoulders.

"I'm so sorry, where are my manners? I haven't even caught your name and I'm over here bragging about my daughter! And you still have all those bags! Here, let me carry one for you."

"No, it's no trouble, really I–"

His protests fell on deaf ears. Robin wrestled his suitcase from him in record time, leaving him with only his duffle and a sling bag thrown over his shoulders. She eyed the nametag on his luggage for only a moment before looking up at him with a mischievous glint in her eye.

"Quite the name you've got there," She said, "I can't recall a 'Perseus' ever passing through Pelican Town before."

"It's a family name," he replied, not technically lying, "People under eight-hundred call me Percy."

"Much better! Percy suits you just right."

"Really? I've been told I look more like a 'Perry'."

Robin shook her head vehemently at the thought; a fact which Percy appreciated immensely.

"Disgusting. You're as Percy as they come. Now, why don't I stop wasting your time and show you to your house?"

"Oh, you don't have to. I already–"

"Nonsense. It's just up the road, but even short walks are better with company. Besides, my husband likes a quiet house while he's working, and I'm not exactly the silent type."

Percy couldn't help but smile. The two of them were going to get along just fine.

"You know what? I'm down. With my charm and your bag carrying skills, this'll be a walk for the record books."

Robin didn't laugh at his joke, but she did snort, which somehow fit her far better.

"I like you, Percy. You'll fit right in here."

And so, suitcase in hand, she began leading him in the direction of his new home. With nothing but his bags and a shiny pen to his name, he followed Robin to the beginning of his new life. He wasn't sure what was ahead, only that it would be different, and that in the moment, 'different' was all he was hoping for and more.

Robin was right about one thing. Walks are better with company. Never had a mile and a half beneath the blazing Sun seemed so short a distance. In the time it took them to make the trek, they both must've shared a dozen stories, each funnier than the last. Robin was fierce competition in that field, too. It took the combined hilarity of Percy's fourth and fifth grade field trips to trump the absolute skullduggery Robin got up to on her and her husband Demetrius' eight-year anniversary.

The good times kept rolling right up until they reached Percy's property, where he was, to put it lightly, disappointed by what he saw. The holding was not at all to the standard of the company he'd brought along to it. Though the acreage was as promised, little else was up to snuff. Where once fertile fields had sprawled, only weeds, debris, and a smattering of trees remained. The small cabin positioned at the head of the property was in a similar state of neglect, as was the archway sign standing on unsteady legs overtop the beaten road.

"It's a bit of a fixer-upper," Robin admitted, seemingly reading his thoughts, "But if you're half as good with a hoe as you are with a cannon, you'll be alright."

Percy let a faint smile take to his lips.

"Yeah. Here's hoping."

"I'll keep my fingers crossed for you."

An idea came to him then, and he needed to consider it for only a moment before deciding.

"How about putting them to work for me instead?" He pointed up at the decrepit sign that had more holes than letters. "Sign won't fix itself."

The look on Robin's face was akin to a dog eyeing steak. He hadn't seen anyone that eager to do manual labor since Leo started work on the Argo III.

"Music to my ears. I'll come back tomorrow with materials and a bill."

"Leave the bill at home, yeah?" he joked.

"Not a chance."

"Worth a shot."

Robin just smiled.

"I'll see you then." And with that she was gone, though not without turning and throwing one last, "Welcome to Pelican Town!" over her shoulder.

As she headed for the horizon line, Percy headed to his home. The porch floorboards creaked as he scaled the front steps, and the door itself hung on hinges rusty enough to give tetanus to Achilles. He fumbled with the keys for a bit before heading inside, making sure not to look back at the tattered farmland which would soon become his waking nightmare.

The inside of his new home was as demoralizing as its exterior. Cobwebs occupied more space than not, and he was pretty sure the sticks piled in the fireplace were the beginnings of a nest, not a cozy fire. The windows were too dirty for much light to pass through, but a few holes in the roof overhead kept him from being entirely shrouded in darkness.

"Well, at least I have a skylight," he muttered to himself.

Sighing, Percy dropped his bags and headed for the bathroom, where he did his best to avoid looking into the cracked, dirt-caked mirror. Somehow it called to him, though, and averting his gaze rapidly became a losing effort. Drawn by instinct, Percy turned to meet his 'reflection'. What stared back at him was not his own image, but the ghoulish mirage that Akhlys had applied back in Tartarus. He recoiled, heart jumping into his throat as he reached instinctively for Anaklusmos, only to look back and see his reflection staring back at him—normal as ever.

Breath shaky and feeling perturbed, he spent the next few minutes trying to 'sneak up' on his own reflection, hoping to catch it in ghoulish form. When it became clear his doppelganger had no intentions of returning, Percy sent the mirror a threatening 'I'm watching you' gesture and headed for the exit.

When he emerged from the restroom, he was met with another surprise – this time an older, mustachioed man with a peaky hat and a shirt the color of nuclear ooze in the Sunday cartoons. The geriatric gent had his hands tucked neatly into a pair of well-ironed suspenders, and he was eyeing Percy with a casual suspicion that the demigod found particularly aggravating considering the geezer was in his house. A fifteen-year-old Percy would've picked a fight then and there, but today he was content to settle with a small jab in a joke-colored suit.

"What, were you hiding in the couch or something?".

The older man at least had the decency to look a bit ashamed of his intrusion.

"My apologies for the, ahem, surprise visit," the man said, "But I take my job as Mayor of Pelican Town very seriously. And as Mayor, it is my duty to stop by and make sure new townsfolk have everything they need to get settled."

Percy cocked a brow.

"Isn't that a bit below your pay grade?"

"Oh, no, not at all! You see, it's not often that someone new moves into town. People have been buzzing about you since they first heard, and I simply had to investigate."

"So that's why you're here? To get some scuttlebutt for the townsfolk?"

"Partially, but I must confess I have my own motives as well," Lewis admitted, voice growing a bit accusatory for Percy's taste, "You see, I don't remember Old Man Withers ever having a grandson."

He didn't phrase it as a question, but Percy recognized it as one anyways. Suddenly he was a teenager again, telling tall tales to old people (read: Olympians) who got off on the idea of being in control.

"You're right. I'm only his grandnephew." he lied, "It didn't matter to him or me, of course, but I suppose it doesn't make it any less true, technically speaking."

It was a bit of a gamble all things considered. He'd never met this 'Old Man Withers' before, so he doubted the lie would stand up to any extended scrutiny. Luckily, Lewis' skills of perception were not to the same standard as his skills of home invasion, and so he took Percy's assurance at face value.

"Grandson it is then," Lewis decided, "And hopefully one who's half the man his grandfather was. This town is in sore need of change, and you just might be the one to bring it about!"

Again, Percy was taken aback.

"Me? Aren't you the mayor?"

Lewis chuckled. "Oh, I'm not too concerned with status, my boy," He replied, either oblivious to or purposefully ignorant of the question's intent, "You can just call me Lewis."

"Right, but–"

"No buts!" He said with a raised finger. "Now, I'm very busy, and I'm sure you'd like some time to get settled in. So, why don't I head back to town, and you stop by sometime this week to meet everybody?"

"What about–"

"Great. I'll see you around!"

Lewis left without another word. Percy followed him as far as the porch to make sure the man didn't stow himself away in any furniture. Whatever motivation he had to trail the clearly sleazy old politician vanished as soon as he stepped outside and saw the fields once more. Acres upon acres of desolate land sat extended before him waiting to be returned to their full, fruitful potential. He could already feel the exhaustion creeping into him, and yet, he was excited too. It was exactly what he'd come to the Valley for. He couldn't wait for tomorrow.

As promised, Robin stopped by early the next morning to help with his sign. He spent a few minutes with her going over the details before heading off to handle his own task – the fields. They were a formidable foe, so wild and untamed as to be indiscernible from the surrounding countryside. Neither man nor machine had touched the fertile soil in decades, leaving behind an overgrown hodgepodge of weeds, thorns, and roots.

Were he a mortal, the task might've taken him weeks to finish by hand. As it turned out though, Percy's divine lineage made him an excellent landscaper. Every plant from the thinnest blade of grass to the thickest oak tree had water in it, and so every plant was a tool rather than an obstacle. By midday, he'd cleared almost a third of the entire property with plenty of energy left to spare.

It became apparent by then what his issue would be. While the rocks, debris, and smaller plants were easy enough to deal with, he was having a hard time deciding how to handle the larger plants. Namely, those trees, bushes, and brambles that had grown large enough for a dryad to claim them as their own. Some could stay for certain, but many were in the path of his future crops. And yet Percy had no interest in moving, or worse, destroying the nymphs' homes without their permission. A few cursory talks told him he'd need more than manners to get them to agree. An issue for another time, then.

With the Sun at its zenith and his plans currently on standby, Percy decided to head over and check in on Robin. When he crested the hill and his archway came into sight, he was immediately blown away by her progress. The entire structure had been rebuilt, this time from young, healthy wood. The craftsmanship was masterful, as was the delicate yet prominent script sprawled elegantly across the sign's face: Sally's Strawberry Service.

"I still don't get it," Robin said to him, "I mean, if you're not only selling strawberries, why put 'Strawberry' in the name? It's confusing."

"It's just a name," Percy countered, looking up at the sign with wistful eyes, "Why shouldn't it be one I like?"

"Well, it's not marketable, for starters."

"Not marketable? It's food. It kind of markets itself, doesn't it? Everybody eats."

"Sure, but not everybody eats Strawberries. You're missing out on so much market share!"

"Alright, calm down, Don Draper. I'm not worried about making all the money in the world. I just want to have a quaint little farm with a silly little name."

Robin gave him a look like she found his goals equal parts strange and endearing.

"Can't judge that, I suppose…" She let the sentence hang, and Percy took the bait.

"Oh, and there's something you can judge?"

"Well, that cottage for one thing. I've seen more modern styles in history textbooks."

"Hey! It's… Rustic," Percy defended meekly.

"It's crust-ic," Robin corrected.

"Can't argue with that," he agreed, looking first to his cabin and then to the property at large, "This entire farm is a shithole, if I'm being honest. My house is a health hazard, the barn fell over during the Reagan administration, I'm pretty sure the coop has a family of opossum in it, and the grain silo is somehow upside down. A nuclear blast would be doing this place a favor."

Robin, who was fighting valiantly to hold back a snicker, could only nod along as he spoke.

"I– I can't say that you're wrong," she diplomatically chimed in, "But I can offer my hep fixing up the place."

It took only a moment to decide. While she was clearly just angling to add a couple more charges to his tab, he really did need the help.

"Consider yourself hired. Though I'm thinking a rebuild would be better than repairs at this point though. Are you up for it?"

"That depends. I'm not an architect, so I'd need some plans, but–"

"Say no more. My… An old friend of mine used to design buildings in her spare time. When she heard I was taking over a farm, she practically threw the drawings at me."

"Just like that? You didn't even have to ask?"

"To be honest, I'm pretty sure she had them pre-made – just the way she's wired. She was just happy someone might put them to use."

"Well, she sounds impressive," Robin complimented.

"You say that now. Just wait until you lay your eyes on these blueprints. You might file for divorce."

"Okay, fine, you win," Robin said, "I'll help you with your farm. Just let me see the damn drawings."

"I was hoping you'd say that. Now, let's talk about logistics…"

It took them nearly two hours to hammer out the finer points. Salary was one bone of contention. Robin knew the worth of her efficient artisanal labor and refused to accept a penny less than she was owed. Percy was equally stubborn in discussing hours, as he intended to finish their joint project in record time. Ultimately, the pair agreed to aim for finishing construction by Summer's end, so long as their weekends remained unspoken for and her pay remained "peak-Clooney level handsome".

It was a lofty goal (the construction timeline, not the salary) but one Percy was certain they'd meet. His formidable strength and near limitless stamina made him capable of doing the work of over a dozen men all by himself. With his physical prowess and Robin's skill, they'd make short work of the rebuild process. It wouldn't be quite as fast as the Amish, but Percy would gladly sacrifice the ability to build a barn in ten hours if it meant continuing to grow hair above his jawline.

After Robin left, Percy set about finishing the task he'd begun that morning. With no audience to witness his displays of demigod ability, Percy was able to work even faster. By nightfall, he'd already cleared the smaller detritus from his entire property, leaving him with only the dryads to take care of. Once they were dealt with, it would time for the seeding and watering to be done – both tasks which would be more than manageable given his unique strengths. From then, all would be in the hands of his aunt, who owed him far more than just a bountiful harvest given the things he'd done for Olympus.

With a hard day's work behind him, Percy trudged inside his dusty, battered cottage, and slumped into his lumpy, mildew-scented bed. He stared up at the ceiling, head spinning as he was beset by memories. Unwilling to go down that oft-trodden path once more, he forced his mind away from the past and towards the future. He knew not what it held, only that it would be better. It was for that reason that he fell asleep that night with a smile on his face.

Percy woke up with a frown. Rain was pouring through the open holes in his roof, and though his lineage kept him dry, it certainly didn't make the fact that his house was really more of a shanty any less aggravating. A flick of his wrist cleared the water from his floorboards, but it did little to abate his annoyance. Standing and rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he made it only three steps before noticing someone had slid a letter under his door in the night.

He scooped it up, noting the velvety feel of the envelope immediately. When he turned it over, he was met by a bubbling patch of golden ink that glimmered incessantly as it began to wind itself into labyrinthian patterns across the paper. The golden trails left behind twisted and further converged before settling on a golden recreation of the Olympian skyline. Only then, after he'd been subjected to thirty seconds of self-indulgence, did the envelope open and a letter emerge. Percy unfurled the cursed thing with roughly the same enthusiasm he used to open his report cards back at Yancy academy.

What greeted him was a wall of self-aggrandizing drivel that rambled on and on about the glory of Olympus for literal pages before finally coming around to acknowledge Percy himself. In so doing, the letter addressed his contributions, his thrice-saving of Olympus, with all the boilerplate language and begrudging gratitude found in a grad-party thank-you card. Against his better judgement, he allowed his frustration to flare for but a moment. Immediately, a violent, stormy mirror of his rage began to take shape in the sky above. By now he'd been fairly inoculated against the insanity of the gods, but this was a bit much even for him.

As his frustration continued to crescendo, so too did a warmth in his hand. It began first as a feeling, then as a genuine spark, and finally a flame. As he looked downward, anger forgotten, he was greeted by a letter cloaked in fire that yet left his hand unsinged. He watched, transfixed as the golden ink on the pages melted away, taking his anger with it and leaving behind a new message marked in soot and ash.

'Percy,' the new letter read, 'I suspect things are not exactly as you'd hoped. Such is often the case when my siblings are involved. Even as we honor our promises, our true nature bleeds through. At the end of the day, we are no less beholden to our whims than you mortals, only more empowered to act on them. That is why you are spited even as you are granted your just reward. It is why I write to you, even as we've promised to leave you to your peace, if only to say that when the night grows long and cold, and you are without a soul to share the midnight coals, you can always find me at the hearth. Yours, Aunt Hestia'

The letter burned away as he read it, singing and smoldering at the edges until it was but an old goddess' voice in the back of his mind. The fire slowly licked at his hands, feeling more like a soft hug than an inferno. As the golden ashes of the incinerated letter began to dissipate, Percy swallowed a lump he hadn't noticed forming in his throat.

"Thanks, Lady Hestia," he murmured. "I'll see you there."

By Friday, Percy was more than ready for a break. He and Robin had made good progress, finishing a new silo in just a single week, but it had not come without a cost. So many consecutive days working the fields in the morning, helping Robin in the afternoon, and sleeping fitfully in the night had him feeling physically, emotionally, and spiritually drained. Exhausted by both their work and one another, he and Robin decided to take the evening off.

Robin, for her part, headed home to spend some non-twilight hours with her family. Percy, on the other hand, was not so tethered. He was a young adult without friends, family, or attachments of any kind. And with his farm, or at least what existed of it for now, resting in divine hands, he no longer had an excuse to stave off what he'd been dreading for days – his first visit to Pelican Town proper.

It's not that he wasn't looking forward to meeting the townsfolk. Quite the opposite in fact. In his mind, he'd created an image of what the town would be like. Of who the people would be. Of what his life would entail. It was a scary thing to face those expectations knowing they may not be met. Fear had never stopped him from doing something, though, so despite his misgivings, Percy gathered his courage and headed for the buildings in the distance.

Pelican Town was, at its core, a town founded on community. It was evident in everything, really. The buildings were small, close, and cozy. Instead of streets, the homes and shops were connected by meticulously placed cobblestone pathways and well-worn footpaths trampled into the earth. A town square hosted gathered groups of two or three as mothers gossiped and children frolicked. Though all of those things were great, Percy's focus ended up falling on the beating heart of every small town: it's local watering hole.

"The Stardrop Saloon," Percy read from the sign. He considered the idea for only a moment before coming to a decision. "I suppose one drink wouldn't hurt."

As it turned out, 'one drink' didn't really mean one drink. From the moment he entered, there had been a zero percent chance of him escaping with a normal gait. The owner of the saloon, a cordial, pudgy man named Gus, had only two rules: No meal ever came without a drink, and no drink ever came without a second. Percy, ever the gracious guest, hadn't the slightest choice in the matter. Orders were orders, after all.

Percy wasn't the only one pursuant in the duty of degeneracy. As day turned to dusk, he was joined by an increasingly large pool of townsfolk. Robin and her husband, Demetrius stopped by for a drink, as did Mayor Lewis and the bus driver, Pam. There was also a strangely familiar fisherman named Willy and a woman with grass-stained pants he was pretty sure Gus had called 'Leia'. That last one he wasn't so sure of. He was, after all, a teensy bit tipsy.

As good a time as Percy had in the saloon, it wasn't made to last. After working to the bone with Robin all week, he rapidly lost the steam needed to party on. Pleasure, like anything else, had its price. The price was paid when, as dusk turned to night, he simply lacked the energy to continue on. Though he yearned to stay, his weary legs carried him and his cheery goodbyes all the way to the saloon exit.

With a lurch in his step, Percy walked outside and directly into someone else. His unknown victim—a woman much smaller than him—was sent tumbling to the cobblestones below. Her 'oomph' of shock as she hit the ground was loud enough to jar Percy back to reality. Tipsiness forgotten, he rushed to help her to her feet. She accepted his help willingly; the small caveat being that she did so not with graciousness, but with vitriol.

"Are you serious?" the young woman grumbled, "I just bought this yesterday."

Her face was obscured by golden curls as she stared at her dress in horror. Percy followed her gaze lower and lower. Almost immediately, heat began to rise in his ears. Dirt and fabric covered her entire front, and a tear had formed across her midriff and exposed her midsection to the world. The small part of him that was his father wanted to gawk at her admittedly taut stomach, but Percy was nothing if not his mother's child. With her voice screaming in the back of his mind, Percy tore off his jacket, held out his arm, and averted his eyes.

"Here. You can cover up with this."

"You want me to wear that? Are you kidding? And for god's sake, will you look at me when I talk to you?"

He did as she asked, and when he did, he froze. Her face was not obscured by curls this time, and boy, what a face it was. He'd seen a lot of beautiful women in his day—hell nearly every girl he knew was either a deity, or the daughter of one—and yet this mortal surpassed them all. Sparkling eyes, golden curls, and full lips were only half the picture. Her scent—roses rich and heavy, mingled with bergamot and jasmine—was equally elegant. This was, without a doubt, a princess transplanted in the modern day. A woman worthy of powerful prose and Shakespearean sentiment. Naturally, Percy offered her exactly that.

"Uhm…"

"That's it? Uhm?"

"Sorry?"

"You should be. This jacket is hideous. Nobody would look good in it."

"That's my favorite jacket!" Percy protested.

"That's just a sad, sad thing to admit," she said, "This jacket plus those boots? You look like a 19th century coal miner. You're not half-bad looking, but you've got yourself locked at a hard six."

"A six?"

"A six." She affirmed, nodding like she'd spoken some universal truth.

"And what about you? What arbitrary number does my hideous jacket lower you to?"

She rolled her eyes as if she'd never heard a dumber question. Then, with all the grace you see in movies, she swung his dusty old jacket around his shoulders. Then, as she pulled it tight against the nighttime chill and her chin disappeared beneath the collar, he realized exactly how stupid the question had been.

"A ten."

Percy wanted to argue that a ten was too low, but he never got the chance. The girl, with one last look of disdain sent his way, walked off in the same direction she'd been coming from. With her, she took his favorite jacket and his chance of getting her name. All he had was the image of her fleeing curls and the feistiness they hid beneath them.

"Beautiful and mean?" he asked the stars. "Fuck. I'm in trouble."

AN

Contrary to popular belief, I am in fact alive ;)

Some of y'all may remember a different version of this story. Some things changed, some things didn't. It's been so long at this point it felt more prudent to rewrite than to continue from where I left off. Not sure if/when I'll upload more, but I wanted to dip my toesies in the water again. Hope you all enjoyed and, more importantly, are doing well.

Until next time,

Peace