#I still have to correct some shadows tha came out very dark

[papita474]

Look a lot of nelyos

[imtryingthisout]

I’ll cut away me Bonny hair, let no man ever think me fair

Fandom: Descendants

Ship: Fem!Harry Hook x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3,415

Content: It’s a self insert fic inspired by @descendantofthesparrow check out their series and art if you like this. I’m not sure about any warnings, but there is references to British Imperialism and just The Isle of The Lost in general. Ask me to tag anything if you come across it.

———————————————————————-

It was a calm night.

The push and pull of the tides was a mighty sight, but their temperament was overall sedated. Waves of drowsy titans swaying on their feet. There were ships that lined the shore, vessels of varying shapes and sizes and degrees of being intact. Some had their ribs ripped open by thieving hands, cannibalized by their captains and left to rot tethered to their anchor. All empty husks of rot wood and former glory, that rocked like cradles in the breeze. Dipping lower and lower till their cheeks brushed the ocean, before rising upwards to repeat the cycle once more.

Pirate’s Port was a town that was seldom silent, in fact it had quite the reputation to the contrary, yet as the fog rolled in from the sea, sinking low and to the ground, reaching its long and heavy hands around the bases of driftwood shacks and other buildings, not a whisper could be heard amidst the streets. The few people who lingered in the Night Market took one good look at the creeping white mist and quickly fled into their houses. Curious children who mustered the will to stick their heads outside the window frames or from the corner of doorways were hastily ushered inside by their guardians. One young girl nursed a busted earlobe, that her Mother had yanked so fast and hard to get her to move indoors, that it now sported a dark red bruising.

A single man walked along the streets. Stumbling along the cobblestone path till he came to the end of the seaport. He stood there for a breath, as fog swirled around the old wooden pole beside the street. The remnants of a great mast, now left to crumble by the sidewalk. Old barnacles, moss and other things stuck to the sides of it poked against his back as he rested his weight beside its frame.

The clothes he wore, if they could be called that, were tattered and ragged and hung off his frame in great sheets of cloth. They might have fit a different man, once. Grains of salt stuck to his beard and hair, catching the reflection of the water like stars in a blackened and oily sky. His fingers were wrapped in stained cloth and bound with a myriad of dirty copper and golden rings.

Those fingers were wrapped around an old harmonica, silver, clean, with the likeness of twisting vines and waves etched into the frame. Hours of craftsmanship decorating its borders. His grip around it was so tight, it drew the skin around his knuckles white, as he held the instrument to his cracked lips and let out a mournful tune. His song the only echo in the darkness.

“I dreamed a dream the other night, lowlands, lowlands away, my John. I dreamed a dream the other night, lowlands, lowlands away~”

There was no moonlight on the Isle of the Lost, even now, for on the rare occasion that the moon dared show her fair face, the omnipresent storm clouds that plagued the land marred her, obscuring her smiling figure. There was no moonlight on the Isle of the Lost, nor was there starlight, or streetlamps.

Night time was an abstract shadow here, where reality seemed twisted and fearful. The only thing illuminating the dark streets and alleyways, was the light emitting from the crevices and cracks of house windows, as well as the occasional fire pit, but tonight the windows were shut, the cracks stuffed with cloth, and every barrel of flame doused with water and ash. There was no moonlight on the Isle of the Lost.

But the sea, who so loved the moon and her light, would never deny her glory, so for the lonesome ship who drifted, not by the shore, rather in the heart of the tide, their deck was basked in a pale luster. As well as the two figures who sat beside each other.

You have one hand burrowed deep into the inky black curls of Harry Hook and the other on the handle of a knife. The shine of the blade catches the silver light burning from the moon above the two of you, the silent observer whose gaze watches as you move the blade closer and closer to the flesh of the neck. A flash of heat runs down your spine as you-

“Hurry it up would ye, I’m starting to get a crick in me neck”

-slice upwards through your handful of hair. Watching absentmindedly as some rogue strands flutter down and are carried to the sea by the breeze. “This would be a lot faster if I had proper scissors” you mutter low beneath your breath. Not low enough apparently, because the next thing you hear is Harry replying “It’s not me fault I got hair growin’ thicker than tha soup at Ursula's Slop”

You angle your knife and get to work cleaning up the final few edges. “It wouldn't be so hard if ya didn’t insist on cutting it every time it gets longer than a butter knife’s blade. I swear- would it kill ya to grow it a bit longer? Let ya curls show?”

“And let people compare me more to me Da? Walking around like some great fop, nah, me name is bad enough, don’t wanna be walking around lookin’ like a pale shadow of that bloody English fool”

“Oi watch it” you say, bringing your blade playfully closer to nicking him before correcting it at the very last moment, “Don’t forget my Mother is of English blood”

“Ha! And you’ll ne’er catch a englishman claimin’ her!” Harry exclaimed, kicking a foot out to mark the punctuation” I swe’r the day that Elizabeth Swann is called a sassenach is the day the barrier breaks”

Her movement causes you to accidentally slash a bit too close to her skin, making the hair fall awkwardly. You bite your tongue to keep from scowling, and get to work correcting the cut. “Quit squirming- I still have to clean up this last bit fore’ ya can be back to moving about”

“Ughhhh- whyyy, I’ve been sittin’ he’re for ages” Harry groans, you can practically hear her pouting expression. Even so she stops, reluctantly, sullenly, she keeps her body as still as the statue, not even twiddling her thumbs.

“You know, when someone has a knife to your neck, you could stand to talk to them a bit more politely” Harriet Hook, whose name invokes such wrath that even her own father calls her Harry, turns to look at you. The grin that sails across her face is nothing short of wicked. “Of course, how rude of me to forget me manners. After all, it isn't every day one gets to rub elbows with royalty” She says, drawling out the word royalty with a flourish. You would be lying if you said that something in your heart didnt flutter at her voice, but you would be damned if you let her score an easy victory over you. You roll your eyes to the moon and back. “Oh stop that nonsense Hook'' you say, giving a stray lock of hair a quick tug. “Ain't no royalty on the Isle, no matter how The Fair Folk of Bargains Castle want to pretend otherwise”

“Aye but that's where you’re wrong Miss Swann.” You snip away the final strand. “The way I see it this ship has got not one, but two! Two whole members of royalty gracing us with their presence” Harry slides away from you like water in a strain, spinning around your waist and forcing you to turn around to follow her movement. Her voice is loud. Loud and full of delight, the very definition of boisterous. “First off we have our very own Captain- The Queen of The Sea!” she laughs with her arms extended upwards and to the sky. And something, you cannot say what, in you relaxes. Harry’s love for Uma was a familiar sight. It was a eternal spring that you could feel laced around every word that fell from her lips. Harry stands radiant in her adoration. “Oh but let’s not neglect our Dear Miss Swann, whose Mam ruled over fleets of ships- an armada! And dared to claim the Pirate King’s Crown”

Your fingers furl themselves around the hair in your hands. A part of you wants to braid it, hide it in a locket and keep it close to your heart forever. “How long must I remind you Hook, my name is free to say?”

“At least once more Miss Swann”, she says and takes your hand into hers “For I do so love it when you plead”. She bows, slowly, deeply in a way that would make your Mother’s old governess cringe at the impropriety- and kisses the back of your hand.

(Her lips are warm and rough against your skin, the chapness tickles slightly as she lingers. Looking up at you with eyes paler than riverstones and twinkling with mirth. Second stars to the left and right, stolen from the sky and embedded in her sockets.)

Your knife hits the wood with a clang and a thud, a faint part of you redisters the noise, but the whole of your head is swarming with heat and air. The goosebumps on your arms stand still and tall and you can’t say it's from the cold. Your bones feel hollow, your spirit barely tethered, you are a mind outside of your body outside of yourself and you wonder if this is what pixie dust feels like.

(Harry Hook’s lips are still pressed against your hand. Her eyes fixed onto yours. At first her expression is playful- cocky. All wiggling eyebrows and the crinkles of laughter, but as the silence stretches on it shifts. Confusion blooms with the tilt of the head. A wordless question written in the furrowing of the brow. Then, suddenly, her eyes widen and grow wild with realisation- before hardening into something else. Something more akin to victory.)

“Why Miss Swann-” Harry says moving forward, lacing both of your fingers together and closing the space between you, till you can feel the sting of her grin burn across your cheek. Her laughter rings like toll bells in your ear, sealing your fate. “Do you fancy me?”

You should take your hand back, you know you should take your hand back.

You don’t want to take your hand back.

A retort bubbles in the back of your throat, with that thought, its rough and scratching and feels just like the lock of hair curled around your fingers. You don’t want to let go. There is saltwater roaring behind your back as the sea dips the ship in a lover’s embrace. Harry’s hand grips your hand is gripped to your chest. She’s waiting. You can see it in the corner of your vision, expecting eyes that seem so blue, they shine silver in the night air.

So you answer, in the only way you possibly can. “What’s my name?”

“What?”

You run your free hand through her hair, balling a fist near the center of the scalp and pulling hard- taking her face off of yours and forcing your eyes to meet. “What’s my name Hook, I want to hear you say it” you say, it’s not a question anymore, not a plea, but a command.

And Harry Hook will always heed a command.

“Cassandra Swann” she whispers, the words fall clumsily out of her mouth and into your heart. You smile beneath her chin, using the leverage to pull yourself higher. You growl against her flesh “Again”

“Cassandra Swan”

A shrieking laugh escapes your lips, “Again!” you scream “Again! Again! Again!”

Harry loops her arms around you, killing the space between the two of you. “Cassandra” she says, “Cassandra, Cassandra, Cassanra Swann” With every reprise her words get smoother, and soon “Cassandra! Cassandra!” flies effortlessly from her mouth, as if she had always longed to say it, as if it was always meant to be there. Harry lifts your body into the air and spins the two of you around the deck all the while murmuring into your hair “Daughter of Elizabeth, Prince of Pirates, Daughter of William, Heir of The Flyin’ Dutchman”

The tips of your boots graze the floorboards as Harry’s momentum lessens and lessens, slowing to a stop near the center of the deck. Your head is pressed firmly to her chest. Here, in this place of comfort, you can hear the frantic beating of her heart, the rise and fall of her breath, the rush of blood beneath her flesh. You feel the storm that rages inside of her. And still she holds you close.

You linger there for a breath, hands clinched around the fabric of her shirt, while the two of you sway with the breeze. You’ve danced before, danced atop this very deck even, but nothing can compare to the silent watz the two of you share here and now. Just you and your love and the Moon. Harry’s touch is firm and soft and oh so gentle with you. If this were anyone else you would say it was hesitant, but that thought was absurd- Harry Hook was never hesitant, you weren’t sure she even knew the word. If she saw something she wanted, she took it. If she saw something she hated, she destroyed it. Love, rage, sorrow, desire, she bore them all proudly before the world, without shame or modesty. Harry Hook lived a life without restraint.

There is shifting under your fingernails, you are gripping her so, so tightly, as if you’re afraid she is not but a visiting dream, a girl made of moonlight and shadow, a passing specter doomed to fade away come dawn.

A strikingly strong gust of wind sends your hair flying outward and towards the sky. Waves of sun-kissed and flaxen strands twist and knot in the air, creating an arch of golden color above your head. You, with your father’s skin and days spent working out at sea, and Harry, with hair darker than the space between stars and skin so fair it put the moon to shame, the two of you were quite the contradictory pair.

Then the wind abides and Harry laughs as your hair falls in front of your face.

“Oh ha-ha hook,” you say, blowing a gust of breath up to get the threads up and out of your eyes, which only makes her chuckle louder. You do not pout, you don’t, you scowl like the very fierce pirate you are and you won’t hear any word to the contrary. “I mean really what’s so funny about--”

You are interrupted by Harry shoving a finger on top of your mouth “Sssh” she says, looking out and over her shoulder, “Do ye hear that?”

Hear what? You try to ask, however it comes out sounding something like “Hrrwat?” with Harry’s finger still covering your mouth. You strain your ears to listen, and sure enough you hear something on the wind, but the noise was far too muddled to make out anything further than a melody.

Luckily, a melody was all you needed.

“It’s a song” Harry says, her voice barely a whisper.

“It’s a shanty” you correct, and a very familiar one at that. No matter how time changes, or what variant of the lyrics become popular, you would be dead in the grave before you didn’t recognize a seafarer's lullaby, sailing along waves of wind and water and air.

You slowly raise your hand to Harry’s pale cheek, careful to give her time to see the motion and accept it. Her skin is chilled against your touch, as you pull her face away from the Isle and all its troubles. You both can feel the weight of the full moon at your backs as you begin to sing. “I dreamed a dream the other night, lowlands, lowlands away, my John~”

What it is, you could not say, but something inside of Harry relaxes when she looks at you. The crease between her eyes vanishes and a part of the frantic energy tensed into her shoulders, lessens. The heavy gaze of the moon lessens slightly.

You rarely ever see her like this. This calmer, tender side of her, that she hides away from the world. How wonderful it is to witness, to share vulnerability, how beautiful she looks when she joins the chorus, your two voices becoming one. “I dreamed a dream the other night, lowlands, lowlands away~”

Taking a step to the side, you begin to lead Harry and your bodies in a proper waltz. Well, as proper as a Pirate waltz could be, at least. You are so focused on your dancing that you almost miss Harry’s voice singing. “I dreamed my true love came all dressed in white, lowlands, lowlands, away me John, I dreamed my true love came all dressed in white, lowlands, lowlands away”

“She sat by my bed when I was asleep, lowlands, lowlands away my John, she sat by my bed when I was asleep, lowlands, lowlands away”

“That’s wrong,” Harry tells you, very seriously, you can’t help but giggle “I’ve heard this sung a thousand times, with a thousand different tongues and a thousand different ways. If the rhythm is right then what does it matter?”

Harry nods her head, “Aye, but that doesn’t change the fact that it’s wrong”

“Well if that’s the case Miss Hook, then why don’t you show me how it’s really done?”

“Gladly Miss Swann” Harry grins, puffing her chest up proudly as she sings, her voice so deep and genuine it brought tears to your eyes. “She sat by me bed and did nothing but weep, lowlands, lowlands away my John, she sat by me bed and did nothing but weep, lowlands, lowlands away”

“Cold water soaked her skin so fair, lowlands, lowlands, away my John, cold water soaked her skin so fair, lowlands, lowlands away”

A warm hand runs itself through your head, racking fingers wander as Harry counters, “An’ the salt-sea weed it was in ‘er hair, lowlands, lowlands away, me John, an’ the salt-sea weed it was in ‘er hair, lowlands, lowlands away”

The wandering comes to stop on top of your ear. Her tumb is nestled under your eye, cradling the side of your face. You feel the heat of the touch, burn past your skin and set your blood a boiling. “She made no sound- nor word she said, lowlands, lowlands, away my John, she made no sound- nor word she said, lowlands lowlands away”

For a second time stood still as two souls shared the same thought. Harry moves to rest her forehead on yours, and before you could even think to give a command, your body rose up to meet her halfway.

“That’s when I knew my love was dead, lowlands, lowlands, away my John, that’s when I knew my love was dead, lowlands, lowlands away” you harmonize with each other, voices barely a whisper drowned out in each other and the beating of your hearts.

“I dreamed a dream the other day, lowlands, lowlands away, my John. I dreamed a dream the other day, lowlands, lowlands away”

Up beside the horizon, where the water meets the sky, the first blaze of sunrise streaks along the border. There is a brief moment, when the light is just right, that the entire ocean ignites in a pale blue splendor. The exact shade of your love’s eyes.

“Then I awoke to morning’s keen, lowlands, lowlands away my John, then I awoke to morning’s keen, lowlands, lowlands away”

Miles away from the ship where you and Harry Hook stand, frozen in time, the fog retreats back into the sea. Windows are unplugged, fire restarted, the air begins to be polluted with the shouting and the everyday noises of life.

Inside a small wooden shack there is a Mother, carefully applying cream onto her daughter’s ear. She does not apologize, not openly, not when she doesn’t regret causing it, but she does gather her daughter close in her arms and opens her mouth to sing her favorite lullaby. A song about a distant and beautiful land, far away and low by the sea.

And of course, beyond the two lovers and the mother and daughter, there is an old man standing by the sea, and singing. “Now I’ll never see my love again, lowlands, lowlands away, my John, now I’ll never see my love again, my lowlands, lowlands away~”

[mischiefmaxed]

TASK TWO┊THE THIRD DEGREE.

the interviewer had said nothing about eating snacks during said interview. with her cheek addressed, courtesy of fletcher, and the continued go ahead through the entire screening process, max couldn't help feeling like a breeze. she sat back in the chair, feet up on the table, stuffing a rather large portion of a sweet pastry into her mouth, her eyes narrowed as she watched the gentleman in charge of this section of the operation prepare himself.

"are you nervous?" she asks, her voice a chorus of sweet tidings. "you don' need to be, mon ami. i'm an open book, me. the trouble you're goin' to have is shuttin' me up, oui?"

the man clears his throat. "could you get your feet off the table, please?"

"aw, when you ask so nicely."

max readjusts her position in her chair, removing her feet from the table with a graceful motion of her legs. she keeps her eyes on the man with rose in his cheeks and grins, choosing to instead lean on the table with her elbows, batting her eyelashes. "go on then," she murmurs after swallowing her treat. "ask away."

"yes, well then — your name is max, correct?"

"that it is, oui."

"and you're from?"

"a swamp in the south, if you ain' already noticed."

"specifically?"

"louisiana. you wan' me to be more specific?"

"ah, no, that'll do." the interviewer writes her answer down, and max continues to watch him without a break in her gaze. he'd be an easy pigeon, if she wasn't on her best behavior. it wouldn't be the best first impression to leave, nor a great start for fletcher if she decided to follow through on her games. he wanted her to be good, and so she would be.

for now.

"and uh, how would you describe yourself, max?"

the thief laughs and tilts her head, once again offering the man a flutter of lashes and an almost longing gaze. "how would you describe me, cher?"

"i— i don't think that's appropriate to the interview. please answer the question."

"fine fine. i would say... i'm sweet. very kind, an' carin'. always puttin' ot'ers needs befo' myself, non? very selfless like tha', me. i've also got the stamina of a—"

"fine, fine. that's fine. moving on."

pouting, max shrugs ever so softly and breaks off another piece of pastry. the interviewer writes again and max takes a second to eye up the room again. simple, neat. two exits via the door or the window. she hadn't heard many footsteps outside the room, but the shadows beneath the door from where she could see told her there was company beyond it. not too shabby, if she had anything to comment. her gear had been left in a box with a few guards. it wasn't a bad set up, really. "so, how many walkers have you killed?" the interviewer asks, startling when her eyes snap back to his. her grin returns, and she hums in a false yet believable thought.

"a fair few, if i'm rememberin' righ'. you gotta, in this day an' age. it's eat or be eaten." underneath the table, max lets her foot ever so lightly graze the man's shin. "you jus' do what you have to. an' i won' lie, i've gotten pretty at it."

"at killing walkers?"

"oui! what else?"

"well i — my next question is, how many people have you killed?"

perhaps it's the way her eyes darken only briefly before she's cheerful again, stuffing her mouth with the last of the pastry that makes the man at the other side of the table fidget. how many people had she killed at this point? honestly, hand on her heart, she could say that when she'd taken a life, it'd been for good reason. never had she picked out a group and decided that the night would be their last. there were good people left in the world, and she could recognize that. she never took from them more than she needed and she most certainly left them alone if didn't even have enough for themselves. groups with children, she left alone. just because the world really did have no honor among thieves any more, didn't mean she felt the same. 

but, her hands weren't exactly clean, either.

of course, there were times when men decided to test her, all of whom would never test anyone again. but, there'd been times when she simply... couldn't walk away. times when she'd stumble upon a group of men who suddenly wore crowns, deciding they ruled the land and all who would walk upon it. men who made the weak into play things. men who no longer saw fit to treat anyone, particularly women, as though they were human any more. 

so truth be told, max couldn't put a number to her kill count. 

"y'know, i don' t'ink it could be more than two," the thief finally hums, her demeanor never faltering, never reflecting the blatant lie she told. "i'm a woman in a man's world, oui? some men don' change an' i, well, it was eit'er me or them. an' i'm sittin' here, ain' i? wit' you." her foot drifts against the man's leg once more, and he quickly bows his head, scribbling away on his paper. to the recording device on the table between them, max sounded like nothing but a sweet, southern girl full of life.

for the man in the room — the poor thing could barely keep himself together.

"so are you searching for anyone?" he eventually asks, glancing up from the paper just enough to garner her reaction to the question. max shakes her head, scrunching her nose in a cute little smile.

"uh... no one at all?"

"mon ami, everyone i know an' love is dead. there ain' anyone fo' me to find." 

it was mostly the truth. fletcher didn't count. fletcher was more than something as simple as that. but the man nodding and writing didn't need to know that, and neither did anyone that would listen to the recording, either. 

she'd never show her weak spots again.

"so then, why are you here, max?" the interviewer continues. "why are you here?"

"i'm tired o' bein' alone," the thief coos, pouting her lips in the slighest, well aware of the specks of sugar still sitting on them. the urge to brush it away or lick her lips was out done by the way the other watched her speak. "tired o' feelin' like i can' lay down somewhere an' sleep. you ever get like tha', cher? you ever feel like you jus'... wan' to sleep somewhere nice, an' warm?"

"uh — anyway... i'll just put... right... ok and, would you consider yourself a team player?"

"oh, absolutely!" max jumps in her seat, clapping her hands together once in a performance filled with excitement. "i love workin' wit' people. i'm a people pleaser at heart. you need me to be part of a team, an' oh, you've got it."

"that's fine, max. i also need to know; are you able to make the best out of a bad situation?"

max laughs at that, her head tilting back with a laughter like a song. it's too sweet sounding to come from a mouth like hers, one that'd spew some form of vulgar sentence than anything beautiful. but it sounds nice all the same, and she winks for an added bit of spice. "it's a gift," she says with another giggle. "i can, an' will, adapt to mos' situations."

"so you could handle yourself in a crisis?"

with a smirk, the thief leans across the desk, making a point to have the man look her in the eyes. while her face is playfully, such is her tone of voice, there's a seriousness to the rest of her that simply makes the man sweat. "i am more than capable o' handlin' myself, cher. don' you worry abou' tha'."

and, while the man goes back to his notes, max settles back in her chair.

perhaps it's unfair to keep her skill set to herself. she'd promised fletcher, after all, that she'd do her best to behave herself. that'd she'd stay and do some good here. his annoying habit and need to help others had obviously made a mark here. and so, she supposed, she could do some good by proxy for him.

if he were the shield, then she would have to be the sword, wouldn't she? and god help anyone who attacks her shield.

"and um, i have to ask; what would you be willing to do to protect the people and things you care about?"

if she were to given an honest answer, it'd be a dark one. max had never been the sort to be heroic. it's not in her nature to do the right thing, per se. if someone wronged her love, she couldn't be the bigger person. she couldn't do a small amount of damage and walk away. no, she needed to destroy their very being, tear them down piece by piece, brick by brick. she liked the challenge of it, the way it came with something akin to therapy. she liked knocking down the strong who thought they were the scariest thing in the room. 

she liked to be, the scariest thing in the room.

"i'd do whatever i had to," she says in a voice like cotton candy. "whatever i had to do to make sure they were safe. i wan' people to feel like they're safe wit' me, protected."

"and you have the skills to do that?" "i do."

"in what way?"

"mon ami, you saw my t'ings, non? my bag, my toys. i'm a fighter, an' a real good one at tha'. you wan' me to prove it? let me spar wit' someone. put me ou' on walker patrol. i'm tellin' you, i don' go down easy, an' anythin' i go up agains' don' go home wit'out a mark."

"i... see. do you have any medical conditions—"

"non. i'm as healt'y as can be. you can ask the team at the clinic. now then— " max stands, using her hands against the table to give her a good and elegant lift to her feet. "i'm gettin' bored of all these questions an', believe me, you don' wan' to see how i like to kill the time... unless, o' course, you wan' me to show you some o' my ot'er skills?" she purrs.

"n-no! no, thank you. that will be all. i'll just uh... i'll just end the recording here."

[kaitoujokerscans]

Showdown in the Dark Night! Joker vs Shadow CH1

Notices!!

"Tonight, I'll come to take 'Komachi's Gilded Chrysanthemum' from the Cape Gardens! Phantom Thief Joker"

"On the 𝒩𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝒟𝒶𝓇𝓀𝓃𝑒𝓈𝓈 when the moon has perished, I shall come together with 𝐵𝓁𝑜𝑜𝒹𝓎 𝑅𝒶𝒾𝓃 to steal away the 𝐸𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓃𝒶𝓁 𝒯𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓈𝓊𝓇𝑒 ​ known as 'Komachi's Gilded Chrysanthemum'! Phantom Thief Shadow Joker"

<1> Night Raid

It was a moonless night. A cold wind blew in from the ocean, and other than the sound of leaves on the trees rustling, the night forest quietly held its breath.

Within this sprawling forest atop a precipitous cliff, a house stood deserted. This grand house, a relic of Japan's Showa era, was now uninhabited. Since the death of its owner, a major financier, it was managed by only a few members of staff. The master of the house was famous for being an eccentric who hardly went out, but also happened to be a noted botanical collector, and in the courtyard grew many rare kinds of flowers. This courtyard, flush with flowers from around the world, was spread out over a wide area in the vast forest and endowed with a multitude of diversions to entertain the visitor: a large pond, bridges, a greenhouse, and a garden maze formed from tall hedges, among others.

The very centerpiece of the courtyard was a donut-shaped hanging garden, fixed around the great manor like the rings of Saturn. It was neatly divided into twenty-four beds and engineered so that one could enjoy flowers in season at any time. Looking out from the manor, one would see the ocean beyond the hanging garden. After the owner died, the courtyard was opened to the public, and it came to be known as the "Cape Gardens".

Tonight, this usually tranquil garden was under high alert. The red lights of numerous police cars lit up the entire garden, sowing it with an uneasy ambiance. The police searchlights positioned on the manor's roof smoothly circled the courtyard as if tracing an image, at intervals illuminating the officers on duty. They rigorously scanned the area with an anxious look on their faces.

One man watched them from the from the third floor of the house. He wore a custom moss green uniform on his short and stout body, and long hair flowed out over it from the back of his head. A certain look of determination filled his face as he intently looked out over the garden, arms folded.

The manor's clock tower bell struck once. Bong!

"11:30, is it..." said the man, looking at his wristwatch. The bell in this house rang the time at the hour and struck once at the half hour.

A door banged open behind the man. "Inspector!"

He turned around to see two officers run in. The first was a sharp-eyed long-haired violette, the other a short blonde.

"Oh, Ginko-chan, Momo-chan."

"He's arrived."

"At last!" The man's glinted dimly. "Fu fu fu, this is the end of the line. This time I'll so arrest him!" he exclaimed loudly.

The man's name was Oniyama Dokusaburou. He was a veteran officer belonging to the Metropolitan Police Department's Anti-Phantom Thief Unit, with twenty-five years on the force. He originally handled robberies and fraud cases, but his career changed completely with the appearance of a certain man. His name...

Phantom Thief Joker.

Nicknamed the "Miracle Maker", Joker was the century's greatest phantom thief. He came and went as he pleased, was smart as a whip, and could change his appearance to anyone else's. He stole treasure like smoke and escaped like the wind. Though he was still young, his almost magical methods were indeed miraculous.

Oniyama had first encountered Joker in a certain caper, in which he was utterly bested and the treasure was stolen. Ever since, Oniyama had dedicated his own career as a police officer to catching Joker, or so he swore. Now wherever Joker stirred up trouble, Oniyama was sure to come along after him. Joker was a world-trotting thief, and while Oniyama could not chase him overseas at a moment's notice, he was always in charge of cases involving him in Japan. This time, he had rushed to the scene upon receiving a notice from Joker threatening to steal the Gardens' "Komachi's Gilded Chrysanthemum".

"Today's the day I'll catch him, for sure..." Oniyama said as he did before every caper. To exaggerate a little, chasing after Joker was Oniyama's reason for living. Oniyama had vowed that he would put Joker in handcuffs himself. This time, he looked out onto the field with more resolve than ever. The reason being...

As he thought to himself, he heard the squeaking sound of wheels from beyond the door. A young man in a wheelchair entered the room.

"Heya, long time no see, Oniyama-han."

"It's been a while, Hayami Kyoutarou-kun."

"There's a buncha big-name officers here again. Halfa loaf's better 'en none, so that's fine and dandy. But if we can't catch our key man Joker with all 'ese heads put together, what's tha point?" Hayami teased in his Kansai accent, grinning at Oniyama.

Frosty eyes set in a pale face shone below his neat and even bowl-cut black hair. He was dressed in a blue blazer, a properly-tied striped necktie, and black slacks. It was the uniform of the school that Oniyama's daughter would likely attend in the future as well, the private Cross Academy high school division.

Hayami was a genius high school detective famous in the area. He solved cases while sitting in his wheelchair with a mind so keen that his IQ was rumored to be 300. He could figure out and expose culprits and tricks on the spot with only the slightest amount of evidence. Oniyama had singled Hayami out and requested that he help in this investigation.

"Let me thank you for coming out this far. You were a great help when you last handled a Joker case."

"Yep, was that the recent Kubiki Shrine affair, or the instrument inheritance case? The nitwit police kept chasin' a phony balloon Joker that time, I recall."

"Say that again? The nitwit police?" The long-haired officer beside Oniyama took a step forward. Officer Ginko was a former F1 racer and speed freak, hence she was infamously referred to as the department's "devil chaser". Both her driving and disposition were a little on the wild side, and she could be short-tempered.

"Ha ha ha, pardon. I can't say I didn't feel like a nitwit myself. Joker ended up spoiling the trick. It was a sour case fer the both of us." Hayami took a breath and turned his gaze toward the center of the room. "So that's what Joker's got his mark on this time?"

"Yes, that's right."

There was a small glass case in the middle of the large open room that formerly served as a salon. Within it was a beautiful hairpin, sparkling gold. It was ornately crafted, a chrysanthemum decoration adorning the end. Each petal was made of gold, and a brilliantly-shining diamond was set in the center.

"Is that Komachi's Gilded Chrysanthemum?"

"Correct. Apparently it's the most valuable item in the deceased owner's collection. As the name suggests, it's a chrysanthemum flower made of gold, and it's said that only the historical poet Ono no Komachi* could complement its beauty."

"Hmm... Inspecter, could ya let me see it?"

The blonde officer opened the case for him, and Hayami gently took the hairpin in hand. He examined it intently.

"It's really pretty, especially this diamond!" The blonde officer Momo was fascinated by the hairpin's focal gem. The white diamond was unusually large. It had a brilliant cut that made it glint at any angle. It was truly worthy of being a treasure targeted by Joker.

Once Hayami had carefully put the hairpin back in its case, Ginko and Momo returned to patrolling the area. It was only Oniyama and Hayami in the salon now. Hayami turned back to Oniyama and broke the silence.

"By the by, Oniyama-han, I hear you'll be losin' charge if ya don't jail Joker this time, is that right?"

"Mmh..." Oniyama faltered. Yes, Oniyama's boss had given him an ultimatum: "If you don't get results this time, I'm taking you off any future Phantom Thief Joker cases." Seeing as he hadn't made any headway, he was in no position to make excuses. As a last resort, Oniyama used every connection he had within the police to assemble a host of strong, trained officers and equip them with new arsenal. Just to be on the safe side, he requested Hayami's assistance. "That... doesn't concern you." Oniyama answered, looking away.

"Come on, don't be so touchy. Yer just up against a cliff, Inspecter. I had some trouble with Joker not long ago now in Singapore."

"What, you mean last month's incident? You were there?" Last month, Phantom Thief Joker had shown up in Singapore and snatched a gem called the "Black Opal". It was another piece from the collection of this manor's owner.

"Yep. One little slip and I let Joker get away. This time I'll nab 'im for sure..." Hayami clenched his fist. A strong light sparked in his cold eyes, and Oniyama didn't miss it. I can trust this boy...

Oniyama held his hand out straight. "I appreciate your cooperation today, Hayami Kyoutarou."

"Right on, ya can count on me. Let's catch Joker, the both of us!" The two exchanged a firm handshake, man to man.

As the pair were having a sincere moment with each other, what exactly was the all-important Phantom Thief Joker doing...?

§§§

"Waaaaaaaaaaah! Craaaaaaaaap!" A scream rang through the giant airship Sky Joker as it advanced through the night sky.

A boy in ninja wear hurriedly ran into Joker's room. "W-What happened, Joker-san!?" shouted the ninja boy, his round golden eyes opened wide. A blue hood and metal plate covered his forehead, and he was clad in ninja gear. There was a small katana fit to his stature at his back. It was Joker's assistant, Hachi. "Joker-san?" Lying on the bed across from Hachi was Joker.

The century's greatest phantom thief, the miracle maker Phantom Thief Joker! Bane of millionaires around the world, the boy who charmed countless with his bombastic conduct, always wearing a bright red suit... except for right now.

Joker was wearing a set of sunny yellow pajamas and a little triangular nightcap. His loud silver hair was bedraggled and sticking out in every direction. His drowsy eyes were wide open, and of all things, there was a trace of drool at the end of his mouth. "I messed up bad~~~! Hachi~~~~!" Joker whined at Hachi. Giant tears blurred his eyes.

"What happened!? Did something major..."

"The reservation period for my game... ended thirty minutes ago..." Joker dropped his shoulders and mumbled.

"Huh?" Hachi blinked in surprise.

"Big Brawl Battle Smasher 3's reservation was until 11 o'clock! When I just checked the site, the limited first edition was on order stop~~~!"

Hachi exhaled. "Sigh... is that all?"

"Is what all!" Joker clung to Hachi, voice rising. "Yeah, I could buy the regular download version, but that won't work! It won't have the passcode included in the limited edition's packaging! Without that, I can't get the Rainbow Hammer that I missed in 2~~!" Joker blabbered on like an addict, grasping and shaking the dumbfounded Hachi's lapel. "Waaaaaah! I messed up~~! Treasure's one thing, but once I miss a game's first edition, I can't get it any other time~~~~!" Joker exclaimed and fell flat on the bed, starting to blubber.

"Is that really worth crying over..." Hachi watched in annoyance, then Joker suddenly stopped moving.

"Hachi."

"What is it?"

"...I'm not going... to today's job."

"Whaaaaat!?" Hachi yelled the loudest he had today. "What are you saying, Joker-san! You've already sent advance notice! We're almost right by the Gardens!"

"I don't have any motivation... I can skip just this once."

"Wha! No you can't! You absolutely can't skip work for a lousy game!"

"What do you mean, lousy! It's important to me!" Joker raised his head and shouted.

"Work is more important!"

"No! There's nothing more important in this world than reserving video games!" Joker clenched his fists and shouted forcefully, the loudest he had this year.

"Are you kidding me..." Hachi yielded to his stubbornness and dropped his shoulders. "Then are you okay with losing your match with him?"

"Him...?" Joker's eyes lit up once he remembered him.

§§§

BAMMMMM! An explosive sound rang through the salon that Oniyama and Hayami were in. The rumbling accompanied the walls blowing apart, its fractured pieces scattering across the floor. A uniform cloud of dust rose up, instantly turning the room grey.

"Is it Joker!?"

"Here at last!"

Oniyama stood with his back to the Gilded Chrysanthemum's case. Hayami quickly steered his wheelchair and came to a tight halt besides Oniyama. As they watched their surroundings cautiously, a faint silhouette came into view beyond the dust. The shadow of a boy with a silk hat and flapping cape...

Just as Oniyama was about to shout "Joker!", a harsh voice came from the dust. "Ha ha ha ha! I'm taking the treasure!"

"Wha!?" It wasn't Joker's voice.

"Bloody Rain!"

Just as he thought he saw something glint in the dust, a red beam shot across and grazed Oniyama's arm. The moment he bent back reflexively, the Gilded Chrysanthemum's case exploded. The beam had hit its target.

Bam! went another loud noise, breaking the reinforced glass. The glass fragments scattered, and Oniyama immediately covered his eyes. This was a poor move. The moment he looked away, the shadow in the dust ran past Oniyama and took the Gilded Chrysanthemum. "Ha ha ha ha ha! I've got it!"

Oniyama shouted at the triumphantly laughing shadow. "You aren't Joker, are you! You're...!"

"Yeah, that's right. I'm the black shadow that paints over the light, arising from the 𝒹𝒶𝓇𝓀 𝑜𝒻 𝒹𝒶𝓇𝓀𝓃𝑒𝓈𝓈, Shadow Joker!" The dust gradually cleared to reveal a man standing still.

His silhouette was the exact image of Joker's. His silk hat, suit, and necktie were all matched in purple, and a black cape hung from his back. In contrast to Joker's flashy appearance, Shadow had an aura as cold and dark as his name. His shifty golden eyes hid an evil gleam deep within. His spiky cyan hair shone mystically.

Shadow was pointing his black umbrella at Oniyama. It was his weapon, Bloody Rain. "Too bad for you I wasn't Joker. I'm taking the treasure!"

"You think you can..." The moment Oniyama tried to approach, a beam fired from the umbrella at his feet. The beam hit and burned the floor in front of Oniyama's toes black.

"The next one will hit you. I'm not as soft as he is."

"Mmmh..." Oniyama gritted his teeth in frustration.

Yet a quiet giggle came from Hayami beside him. "Kukuku... yer as rowdy as ever."

"...Who the hell are you?" Shadow glared at Hayami.

"I'm struck that th' phoney'd turn up brazenly after I humbled 'im in Singapore."

"Singapore...? Then you're the lout who set up that trap!" Shadow stiffly turned his umbrella tip toward Hayami.

But Hayami was unperturbed and began to speak placidly. "Yep, that's right. But to level with ya, ya weren't my target. I haven't got any interest in Joker's phoney."

"Wha... I'm not a phoney!"

"Fu fu fu, I'm just callin' it as it is. Just like yer name, yer Joker's shadow, a bona fide phoney veiled by darkness."

"Quit saying that! I'll kill you right here and now! Bloody Rain!" The piercing shot fired at Shadow's command and sped toward Hayami. Hayami quickly moved his wheelchair out of the way and narrowly evaded the beam.

"Ya won't hit me that easy. My wheelchair can move faster than a guy can run!"

"You cheeky little-!" Shadow shot several more beams at Hayami. But true to his word, Hayami's wheelchair avoided the beams, moving around at immense speed to dodge the attack. "Scamp...!" Shadow continued to fire in his rage, and so did not realize the presence rushing in behind him.

Clink! A dull pain spread through Shadow's arm. "...!" When he looked, the hand holding his umbrella was clapped in irons.

"Shadow Joker, you're so under arrest!" Grasping the other end of the taut rope tied to the handcuff was Oniyama.

"You blackguards... watch this! 𝒰𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓁𝒹 𝒮𝓂𝑜𝓀𝑒!" Shadow angrily shifted his umbrella to the other hand and struck it forcefully against the ground. A smokescreen immediately billowed out from the umbrella tip.

"!?" The smoke spread sooner than Oniyama and Hayami could express their surprise. It quickly filled the entire room.

"I'm not letting the treasure go!" Shadow cut the rope on the handcuffs. The next moment, there was the sound of a window breaking.

Oniyama shouted into his radio. "Ginko-chan, Momo-chan, so arrest all suspicious persons around the manor!"

"Roger, Inspector!" Ginko responded, and the radio cut out.

Oniyama ran out before the thin smoke had cleared completely.

"Inspecter!"

"Joker will come for sure. After the treasure, that is!" Oniyama shouted and ran out of the room.

"..." Left behind, Hayami squeakily wheeled his seat over to the broken glass case and looked down at it. "Fu fu fu, this is riveting. The phoney stole a phoney..." Hayami's mouth curved into an audacious smile.

[llodblinky]

Chapter 4

A few days after X'tolzia had her aether corrected, she and Cirina decided to take a mini vacation to Costa del Sol. While they both still think of Llod and his recovery, Wodrick alleviated their worries. They recall what he had told them.

"He's recovering well, more strain than we thought but nothing we cant handle. He should be back in tip top shape in a few more days." He confirmed.

With newfound relief, they paid Llod a quick visit wishing him well and a swifter recovery. Upon exiting, the sisters went to the adventurer's guild to relax and get some refreshing water. They discussed their many goings in the world amd what 'trouble' they've gotten into since they last saw each other. Then X'tolzia changes the subject, surprising her sister Cirina.

"Well, sounds like we need a mini vacation. How about the beach! Costa del Sol isn't too far from here by airship." X'tolzia grinned.

Cirina drew a look of worry, flustered at the thought of wearing a swimsuit.

"I-I'm not sure, there's a lot of sand and....i don't think I can pull off a two piece like you can." She looks down towars her feet. Seeing X'tolzia's shadow grow closer.

X grabs Cirina by both of her shoulders, bearing a stone straight face as she talks, that does a turn around by the end of her sentence.

"You....would look.........SO DAMN CUUUUTE!!~" She has the biggest grin on her face, turning Cirina around and pushing her toward the airship.

"Now c'mon, TO THE BEACH!"

"X I'm really not sure I-"

"Stop being a baby, trust your big sis"

"It's not that I don't its just-"

"You're gonna make so many heads roll~ hahaha."

"X!!"

And off they went, to Costa del Sol.

After they arrived, they stopped at the little boutique shop to get some swimwear, as the last time they came they were but young teenagers. X'tolzia looking for two pieces that felt modest and were a pretty color. Cirina was just wandering the shop, stopping at some cute memorabilia. X found her and drag her away in typical X fashion, throwing her over her shoulder.

"Here, whaddya think? Do I look good or what?" She smirks whilst wearing a two piece in a somewhat shiny silver, a straw beach hat, and a pareo around her lower half.

Cirina blushing a bit, admiring her elder sister's beauty. She is taken back a bit as well, wondering if she could ever match her. Usually more comfortable around animals and the friendlier monster creatures, dressing in such a way for others to see just felt embarrassing.

"Of course you do! When arent you beautiful?" She compliments X while tilting her head.

"When I wake up in the morning hahaha. I've frightened myself from what I've seen in the mirror a few times." X jokes.

X hands Cirina an outfit similar but different. A halter top and bottom with a light open shirt to match, and a flowy see through skirt. Cirina freezes from the thought of wearing it all. But is egged on by X to at least try them on. She comes out donning the attire and X'tolzia just gets giddy with excitement.

"Do...do I look ok?" Cirina nervously asks.

"Do you look ok? You look astonishing! Just so dang cute." X responds.

"Ok, lets pay for these and get goin sis." She says.

Cirina is still nervous but with X around she feels more at ease at least. They wander the beach til they find a nice spot to sit and relax. X'tolzia sets up the beach blankets and umbrella she also bought from the shop, so they may lay down without fear of burning.

A short while later, Cirina heads to the water to let her feet get soaked by the cooling, crystal clear ocean water. Gazing out in awe of her beauty. She can see all the fish, the coral, everything. She is captivated in pure bliss with these sights, all new to her in everyway.

Not even moments later she feels a slight brush against her butt, a hand!? She jumps completely startled, turns around, and puts her arms up in defense.

"Hey there cutie, what are you up to?"

A Miqo'te with long light blonde hair, chiseled abs, somewhat beefy arms, and orange swim trunks is standing there. He also bears a small scar above his left eye.

"W-why would you do that!? Thats creepy."

"Sorry babe, I couldnt help myself. I saw you and your friend in the shop earlier and wanted to....get to know you." He says while lifting a hand to caress her face.

X hears the commotion and catches him attempting to touch Cirina. Jumping to her feet, marching over there.

Cirina smacks his hand away, now angry he would assume she would want him to do that.

"I, dont know who you are, but you should leave. If my sister, the person you saw me with, saw tha-" Cirina is cut off.

"Oooo sisters you say, well I have some experience dealing with sisters." He brags while smiling still.

"CIRINA!!" X yells.

Both the Miqo'te and Cirina turn to see X on a warpath. Heading straight for the Miqo'te creep.

"And you must be this lovely lady's sister, my name is R'ago. Pleasure to m-" He lifts his hand to greet X.

Cirina looks away as X gets close, knowing what's about to happen. As R'ago extends his arm, X grabs it, pulls him in, and proceeds to gut check him. Leaving him reeling on his knees.

"Who....The hell...Do you think you are....Trying to touch my sister like that!!" She demands.

As he gets back to his feet, he attempts to defuse the situation.

"Are you...ung..crazy!? I was just, talking with her. Thats all." He lies watching, X'tolzia's reaction. Hoping she'd buy it, she doesn't.

She sweep kicks him, his lies making her angrier. X isn't very approachable when she's genuinely pissed.

"LIAR! Cirina, what happened?" She asks Cirina.

"Well this all started cuz he saw us in the shop buying swimsuits, and he followed us just to talk to me.....Just so...creepy" She pauses "And, then he....swiped his hand...along my..butt."

You could hear the sound of a snap from X'tolzia's facial expression, the breaking of string, the shattering of glass. R'ago now terrified by X's aura, watching her slowly turn toward him, fury in her eyes. He swiftly gets back up scared shitless begging for forgiveness. X looks at him, and extends her hand. He foolishly accepts thinking everything will be ok, as she screams to him.

"Filthy scum!!"

Delivering a hook punch so hard he spins in the air, only to have a second blow delivered to his his straight downward. Burying him in the sand where he once stood confident, now half buried to his waste in agonizing pain and shame. X'tolzia grabs Cirina by the hand and they head back to their spot, hoping to enjoy the rest of the day there.

R'ago comes to and gets himself out of the sand, looking around to see its hours later and spotting Cirina building sand castles and X laying down on her belly. As soon as he looks at X she snaps her attention to him, her eyes piercing through the sunglasses sends chills down his spine, and he bolts from the area not wanting to get humiliated again.

"Ha. Look at him run." She smiles

"You always go overboard sis, I know its because you're overprotective but still." Cirina sighs.

"Hey, if he didn't want that to happen, he shouldn't have been such a creep." X states.

"I could have handled myself, you know that." Cirina states

"Yeah yeah, I know Cirina. Can't help it sometimes." X explains.

Cirina focuses back on her sand castle building. She is the. Approached by a tall Elezan woman with a beach ball. She has a short braided ponytail and lavender colored hair with fair features.

"Hey you two, would you like to join my friends and I for some volley ball?" She asks.

The girls both agree with a simple sure. They spent the day with this Elezan and her friends playing volleyball and enjoying the rest of the day together. X, Cirina, and the Elezan woman parted from the main group as they all decided to leave as it was getting dark amd X wanted to see Llod before she went to bed. The Elezen had taken quite an interest in Cirina and shared her name after some time, forgetting she never mentioned it.

"Oh my Lord, my manners are all sorts of scrambled today. My name is Isselia, sorry for not mentioning earlier and looking like a weirdo hmhm." She embarrassingly said.

"Oh no worries, we had a blast today! Right sis?" X reassured.

"Mhmm, a great way to shift our moods from an earlier altercation we had with a creepo." Cirina explained.

The sisters shared the story and had some laughs with their new friend Isselia telling stories. Before they parted with Isselia, she gave Cirina a little note. A message was written inside, If you and X'tolzia ever wanna hang out again, just come find me in Limsa. Cirina nodded.

"We will Isselia, count on it." She said.

Isselia gave her a wink and was on her way. Leaving Cirina a bit confused and blushing a bit, wondering why she'd wink at her. But her sister calling her name brought her back to focus, and they boarded the airship back to Ul'Dah.

Meanwhile...

Llod is currently resting, in a deep slumber. His eyes open, he is nowhere. Voices are ringing, unintelligable. Whispers unnerving, constant and voracious. He shouts. They stop, suddenly a figure appears in a long black robe with peculiar markings. Whoever they are, they don't look at him, tilting their head. Confused.

"You're the potential nuisance my brothers and sisters are worried of? How quaint, I see no threat. But you are amassing a reputation that if left...unchecked..." They question, state. And fall off.

"Hmm, who's to say. Maybe I should take care of you now."

Llod is frozen, unable to move. The figure conjures another form up nearby, and it's...X'tolzia!?

"This woman means quite a lot to you...doesn't she?"

Llod grits his teeth in anger, suspecting their intentions are to hurt X.

"I wonder how you'd react if she were to..."

They stop, watching for his reaction. Getting a kick out of him.

"Hahahaha! Oh you are entertaining at least. A threat no, but enjoyable. I'll keep you around boy, see what you're capable of." They explain.

And with a snap of his fingers overhead, he's gone, the conjured figure of X now a puff of smoke, and he wakes up. Sweating, shivering. Just then, the knob turns and the door opens. As X and Cirina walk in with Jaynee to check on him.

[writer-of-worlds]

Fish and Feelings

EEEEEYYYY I FINALLY WROTE SOMETHING. This time for this indie Windows 10 game called Dragon’s Blade: Heroes of Larkwood! A couple of friends may know who these two OCs are, but hopefully everyone else enjoys my fic anyway! :D

And like always, any constructive criticism and whatnot is always welcomed!

Dragon’s Blade: Heroes of Larkwood belong to Nate Monster. Garrett, Zeph, Terra, and Saber belong to me.

ENJOY!

Summary:  While Garrett was fishing, Zeph visited him with injuries from being assaulted by the village boys. Male Knight x Male Blackguard implied slash. Injuries, bullying, physical bullying.

Rating: K+

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Fish and Feelings

Many people didn’t have the patience to sit down and cast a rod, waiting for a possible bite for hours. To the residents in the peaceful village Larkwood, it was a test of endurance—if one was too impatient to catch a fish, they, along with their families, would go hungry tonight. Because of this tradition that had been passed down for generations, the people in the small village had great patience, no matter how long they waited for whatever they wanted or needed.

Garrett was no exception—in fact, fishing was one of his favorite pastimes. The idea of sitting in front of a river, the rod he was given as a gift by Aunt Rose casting into the water, and listening to nature around him relaxed him.

And that was what he was currently doing, sitting in front of the river that flowed through the village, humming to himself. He had finished working at the inn Aunt Rose had owned, and she let him and his friends take an hour long break. While Saber, Terra, and Zeph were out to spend their own free time, Garrett used this opportunity to go fishing. Who knows, he might catch a big fish to bring home for dinner. The thought of cooked fish—fried salmon, baked bass—nearly made his mouth water, but he shook his head and concentrated on the red and white bobber that remained on the surface.

He was so tuned out of his fishing that he didn’t notice someone behind him. In fact, he didn’t notice them sitting beside him until the person cleared their throat.

He was snapped out of his focus, and he turned his head to the side upon hearing the noise that broke his concentration. He opened his mouth, about to scold them for startling him, but the moment he saw the black, short hair, he stopped.

Zeph was staring at the river, his hair hiding the side of his face. The Blackguard wasn’t looking back at the Knight—he was focused on the bobber floating on the water.

“Zeph?” Garrett questioned, an eyebrow raised. Wasn’t he with Saber and Terra for their break? Then again, he very rarely interacted with either of them, and he most likely went on his own.

“Hm?” Zeph hummed, looking up at the white haired teen.

“Are you—“

The moment he saw Zeph’s face fully, his eyes widened and anger boiled inside him.

Zeph had a black eye swelling shut, and he had multiple cuts that littered his face. His hair was also a mess, with grass and hay stuck on his dark strands.

While Zeph wasn’t too bothered by the injuries he had sustained, Garrett was the complete opposite. The more he studied his friend's injured face, the stronger his rage grew inside him.

“Zeph, who did this to you? What happened?” Garrett immediately demanded, trying to not show any signs of rage in his voice despite his boiling anger. He knew how Zeph felt whenever he confronted anyone who harmed him—it had landed him in trouble multiple times due to taking manners into his own hands.

Zeph only looked away, shaking his head, as if he was trying to hide what had actually happened from his close friend. Garrett, however, knew what happened. Zeph wasn’t a popular kid around the village thanks to his Blackguard status. In fact, he was bullied, beaten, and threatened by both children and adults because of it. Garrett knew that Blackguards were considered the “living embodiment of death and bad luck”, but the sheer thought of seeing his friend hurt just because he was born with dark powers still twisted his gut.

“Zeph,” Garrett spoke firmly, throwing the fishing rod to the side, completely forgotten as he gripped Zeph’s shoulders to force him to face the Knight.

The Blackguard flinched when Garrett’s hands touched him in those areas. Two dislocated shoulders, Garrett realized. Now his rage grew tenfold, though he attempted to hide the furiousness in both his voice and body by taking a quick deep breath.

“It was the village boys, correct?” Garrett guessed, his voice wavering and nearly giving away his true feelings.

“…As usual,” Zeph admitted, taking one strand of hay from his hair before tossing it to the side. “The beating was only mild unlike previous encounters. They only pushed me down, punched, and kicked me.”

“That is just as bad as previous times, Zeph,” Garrett pointed out, his voice rising from his intense emotions. “They should not even attempt to hurt you! If they keep this up, I will make sure tha—”

“Garrett,” Zeph interrupted, a subtle flicker of panic in his red irises. “please don’t.”

Garrett stopped, before he released his hold on Zeph. He turned to face the river—shadows of unidentifiable fish underwater swam around in an unpredictable pattern. Usually, watching this relaxed Garrett to the point of falling asleep, but with the thought of his best friend hurt, he couldn’t even loosen up his tensing muscles.

There was a long silence between them until Garrett spoke, “Forgive me… I just don’t want you to get hurt, Zeph. It was not right to see others harm you over something you could not control over.”

Zeph glanced towards the white-haired Knight, a slight blush on his cheeks. He had lived with Garrett, along with Aunt Rose, Terra, and Saber all his life, yet Garrett was the only one who treated him like an actual human. Aunt Rose was bossy, especially during their work days, Terra’s bubbly chatter annoyed him greatly, and Saber was all around rude and blunt to a fault.

Garrett, on the other hand, was special. He always lend a helping hand to anyone in need, to the point others took advantage of him—Zeph still remembered all the times Garrett came home with injuries after attempting to help someone with whatever they had trouble with. Despite that, Garrett was still willing to assist everyone, no matter how trivial the problem was.

When someone even looked at Zeph in disgust, Garrett gave them an earful. The whole village overall hated Zeph, yet Garrett was the only one who defended him from any backlash or bullies attempting to harm the young Blackguard in any way.

As much as he hated to admit it openly, Zeph admired Garrett for his good heart.

“Zeph,” Garrett continued, “you’re important to me. Not only are you my best friend, but you’re also like a brother to me. I made myself a promise to protect you, no matter the cost.”

“You… you did?” Zeph asked, his face turning more pink. He made a promise—and he knew that Garrett never break any promises—to protect Zeph. That explained why he fiercely defended Zeph when he was even slightly assaulted.

“Yes,” Garrett confirmed. “I know you hate it, but…”

Zeph could see a hint of pain and guilt on his face. The Blackguard raised a brow at this sudden change in expression—when he thought about it, he realized something odd.

He remembered in their childhood years, Garrett was timid as a mouse. He never spoke up for anything—not even asking Aunt Rose if he could get a sweet treat—and he hated fights. He recalled the times Garrett held Aunt Rose’s hand at all times, and he insisted to be accompanied by Aunt Rose, even when he was only going outside to play nearby.

Zeph didn’t remember how, but suddenly, one day, Garrett had a huge change of personality. Not only was he more brave and protective, but he was more than willing to stand up to anyone, even over slights towards Zeph. He even got involved in fights with some of the village boys over their attacks on Zeph. The Blackguard knew for sure that the old Garrett wouldn’t even stand up for anyone, not even himself, let alone fight with others.

What happened that made him change? Zeph didn’t remember any trauma or a significant event that made him what he was today. It was suddenly like the timid, younger Garrett was replaced—both physically and emotionally—by another person.

The memory overall made his head hurt. He had to know what happened that made Garrett change.

“Garrett?” Zeph asked.

Garrett snapped out of his pained expression, before he glanced at Zeph. His previous expression was then replaced by a raised eyebrow. “Yes, Zeph?”

“What… what happened?” Zeph began. “I remembered how you were so… so scared of everything. To this day, I still wonder how you changed from that to who you are now. Did something happened?”

There it was again—the pained and guilty expression on Garrett’s face appeared when Zeph asked this. This time, it was more intense and noticeable. The Knight fell silent, as he turned his head to stare at the river again. It seemed like he was trying to hide his face, but Zeph immediately saw tears welling up in his blue eyes.

Zeph could only wait for Garrett to answer, but after a few minutes, only silence reigned. Zeph picked a few more strands of grass and hay off his hair, as he moved his legs in front of him for a more comfortable position. The silence was beginning to drive him crazy, but he didn’t pry any further—he figured by Garrett’s reaction towards his question, whatever event made him change was traumatizing to the point he didn’t want to remember.

He wanted to comfort his only friend in some way… but he had no idea how. Blackguards had the wired mind and black heart that made them cold and hateful—they were never born with a loving bone in their body.

Yet, Zeph wanted to be caring and loving towards Garrett. He just didn’t know how to show it, as it was against his complicated kind’s body.

While he was pondering on what to do, he felt strong arms wrapped around him, before he was pulled into a tight, but protective hug. Zeph blinked at this sudden contact, and when he glanced up, his face turned red when he saw Garrett holding him close.

His first instinct was to pull away… but after a few seconds of hesitation, he awkwardly returned the hug. This was the first time he had this kind of affection, and it felt like he was cared for. Loved, in fact.

“Zeph,” Garrett wispered, his voice wavering from sorrow, “I will not let anyone harm you. I will always protect you.”

Zeph’s heart stuttered in his chest, his face redder by the minute. It wasn’t a dream, it wasn’t an illusion—he had someone who treated him like an equal, not like an animal that needed to be stabbed and killed.

As he buried his face in Garrett’s broad shoulder, he smiled slightly—an expression he had never had in his entire life.

“Thank you, Garrett… thank you for giving me a chance...”

His eyes spotted the shadows of fish swimming erratically in the river, like his current feelings. He may not know what his feelings were called exactly, but maybe when time went on, Garrett would fish them out.

[impalaanddemons]

Libertatem - Part 2

Summary: A Science Station goes radio silent - when Scotty and his engineering team are sent to reestablish communication, things go south fast and hard.

Wordcount: 1500

A/N: I miraculously found 2 hours to write today. I don’t know what happened. It’s still dark, but I hope you like it.

Warnings: angst, injury, combat

PART 1

Day 1

„We’re easy to love, when we’re down on our knees.“

He woke up to darkness and a throbbing pain in his head. Prying his eyes slowly open the darkness around him started to take form as he got accustomed to his surroundings - small filthy looking rays of orange light split the room before him into shades of grey. Wether the orange tint came from the planets sun or an artificial light, he could not say. Somewhere in the distance a machine hummed and buzzed - a sound his subconscious mind immediately took in and stored away for later analyzing. The black and grey differentiated further - the orange tint glowed through a small window, maybe a man’s height above his head. There was the weight of cuffs around his wrists - subtle and lightweight, only noticeable because they were a strange feature for a man usually devoid of all jewelry.

„Shit“, he muttered and his voice sounded hollow even in his own ears. His throat hurt, raw from the smoke and yelling, prompting him to cough until tears welled up in his eyes.

„Shit“, the Enterprises CE muttered once more and lifted his hands, staring at the cuffs. Standard Issue Starfleet Equipment. With a bit of time on his hands and a few tools he’d be able to break them in no time. Time was, he figured, not his main problem though. He fumbled for his tool belt, just in case, but his captors weren’t that stupid. What a pity. As his senses returned as well as his common sense, there was another thing that caught his attention. It was a soft sound, so soft and gentle in fact that he had first taken it for part of the machines humming in the distant and only now realized that it originated from much closer. Almost … human. „Hello?“, he asked softly in return, as if talking at a sacred place, trying not to disturb the silence and solemnity. The other sound stopped and only the machine’s humming stayed. He narrowed his eyes, a stupid thing when trying to pierce the darkness in front of him, and the orange tint swayed just enough to the left to capture the glistening of eyes in the corner furthest away from him. The eyes belonged to someone - or something - else, a creature huddled,muscles strained and tense. Maybe a humanoid wrapping it’s arms around knees pulled close, maybe something entirely different and unknown to him. The only thing he was sure of was the defensive stare he was given, a hard glint like steel, obfuscated by the darkness around the. He looked up to the window, now very sure that the light outside was artifical, listening to footsteps or anything else, then looking back to the creature and considering his options. What could or should he say? Was it wise to state his name? Was it a trick, a deception to con him into giving away information? He felt awfully misplaced, a sense of dread spreading in his chest, born from a situation he felt utterly unfamiliar with. Situations like this were the Captains expertise. „I’m Montgomery Scott. USS Enterprise.“ A whimper. He was not bound to the ground, only restricted in the movement of his hands. He could get up and closer. Get a closer look. He listened again. No footsteps no nothing. His sense of time had abandoned him the moment he fell unconscious. „Lieutenant Commander Montgomery Scott. Yer human? Ya speak standard?“ Again only silence and the humming of machinery which he would’ve found comforting everywhere else. „Probably not, then“, he sighed and leant back against the wall behind him.

Enterprise „Results, Captain“, Lieutenant Uhura turned around on her chair, concern spread across her face. Her eyes caught Spocks, just for a second, before landing back on Kirk. The man looked strained, the mischievous glow in his eyes had dimmed down, he was a captain today, one that had lost several members of his crew without knowledge of how and why things had happened. Not lost, she corrected herself, only missing in action. Nothing was determined yet. „Let’s hear them, Lieutenant.“ he straightened up in his captains chair. „I have cross referenced data with Mr. Spock. We found some interesting wavelengths not usually in use by Starfleet or any known allies. It seems our transporter signal had been blocked the moment the second team went down. That’s why it appeared as if we’d lost our people.“ „Had been blocked?“ Kirk caught on, pressing the transporter rooms intercom button almost instantly. „Ensign Chekov, scan for life signs and transport anyone up you can find. We’re not going to leave anyone up there.“ - „Aye, Keptin.“ Without awaiting further questions from Chekov he released the button and turned around to Bones. His dark eyes were right there. The CMO just nodded and grabbed his Comunicator, hailing Medbay: „Chapel, prepare everything for incoming injured crew members, 4 nurses down to the transporter room, please hail M’Benga to stand by just in case.“

The transporter room was chaos for the few seconds it took Doctor McCoy to descend upon the scene with furious intent. The first few chaotic seconds after the arrival of several injured crew members quickly turned into efficient prioritizing. Kirk watched his CMO work from the corner of the room - he saw a few broken limbs, someone who was immediately carried away on a biobed despite looking unharmed at first look. Issuing a few more orders, McCoy hurried after a second and third biobed. He counted seven injured, two dead and one missing. Scotty. „Lieutenant Uhura“, he lifted his communicator to his ear. „Anything knew? We’re missing Mr. Scott.“ „Nothing yet, Sir. Communications is working on it.“

„Au’e“, a voice laughed outside, probably male with an unpleasant sound to it. A door opened and that orange light flooded the room - the scotsman was fast enough to turn around his head, face the other side of the cell and not be immediately blinded this way.

Human, he thought as he saw the huddled figure, even if barely so. The man behind the voice - a tall figure that was nothing more then a shadow against the light, threw two bowls into the cell, splattered what was hopefully replicated mush around and shut the door again with a bang that made his ears ring. Footsteps became distant and silence fell again. „Yer human, lass.“ Scotty grabbed the bowls, trying not to spill the rest of their contents in the room and got closer to the hunched cell mate. „Looks like we’re in this together now,“ he added and put one of the bowls just close enough for her to reach for it. He then sat down on the opposite wall, now closer, able to watch her without squinting through the darkness. Her hands were bound too, but the electric cuffs looked like they had lost charge and should’ve been exchanged at last a few weeks ago. She did neither seem to notice, nor to care anymore. Blank eyes staring at him with fear and repulsion and what he discerned as rejection of another being close to her. „Didnae care for a real cook here. Could at least cook something decent for a lassie like ya.“ he sniffed at the bowl and knew in an instant that only hunger would bring this stuff down his throat and only pride would keep it there. „Ensign Y/N“ at first he did not recognize her speaking. It was such a raw sound, shivering and clinging to some strength hidden deep below, that he had difficulty discerning her voice and the human sounds she made. She spoke Standard. „Security Division, assigned to Station Utara Delta. Starfleet Number 22/76/21.“ He sighed and swallowed down one bite of whatever they were giving him. At best, they’d just poison him. „See, we’re getting somewhere“, he whispered more to himself then anyone else. „Just say Scotty.“ She moved slowly, deliberately grabbing the bowl and watching him, the expression of her face not changing. „Ensign Y/N, Security Division, Starfleet Number…“ The scotsman eyed her and forced the kindest smile he had on his face. „Yer a fighter. Tha’s good. Ya’ll see, lass.“ Captain, get me out of here fast, he thought, listening hard for footsteps on the bare concrete outside. Whatever happened here, it was best not to find out personally.

TAGS! PLS TELLME IF YOU WANNA BE TAGGED :)

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[fyasummershowdown]

Exquisite Corpse: Prom, The Final Frontier

This year it was actually going to happen. This year I was finally going to conquer my fear and participate in something most of my friends thought was fun. I couldn’t begin to understand how something so anxiety inducing could be fun, but then again, they didn’t have my problems, so I guess it was understandable. The thought of it actually turned my stomach, but I didn’t have a choice. If I didn’t go to prom this year, I might end up dead. Literally.

For those of you who have already read the story and want to skip ahead to the CYOA endings:

•  If you’re looking for your mom to save you, read on for KCFYA's ending.

•  If you’re interested in seeing Maria use the emotion extractor to full effect, read on for LONFYA's ending.

Everyone else, read on…

avlfya:

The reason I’m so opposed to prom dates back many years ago in my preadolescence. By now, living in this small town for so long has really started to get to me. It feels like the world is caving in on itself, and the bubble is about to burst. Prom is only one of the ridiculous traditions that is of the highest importance here, and my group of friends, though not exactly the most popular crew, fully expected each of us to pair off and attend the social function together. Well, at least I didn’t have to worry about finding a date.

cifya:

At least, that’s what I thought. My date-to-be, Cam, came down with the chicken pox three days before the dance, so he’ll be staying at home on Saturday night with oven mitts taped to his hands. (Side note: Who in the hell gets chicken pox at age seventeen??) Naturally, the town crier sent up the alarm: “HEAR YE, HEAR YE! MARIA ESPOSITO SEEKS HER PRINCE CHARMING FOR THE BALL!” 

At least that’s what happened in my head. In reality, the town crier was my best friend Emily posting a message on Facebook that sounded a little too much like a Craigslist Casual Encounters ad. I begged her not to click “Post,” not to destroy what dignity I had left, but as with all best friends, there was no convincing her otherwise. But to my amazement, it worked. Within minutes, I had a new prom date. If only I had known that it was Tony de Luca, son of Italian mob boss, Dominic de Luca.

@cltfya you’re up!

cltfya:

With a name like Tony de Luca you’d think he would have booked a date before Christmas. But if you think that, you’ve never met Tony. He should look like a young Robert de Niro, but unfortunately that’s not the case. Not only was he the founding member of the Sunnyvale High School Dungeon and Dragons club, Tony had never outgrown his awkward puberty phase. Every day he wore one of 4 different Game of Thrones t-shirts and the same pair of pants. Though he had a decent head of curly, dark hair, he unfortunately sported a face like a pizza. On top of that, he never sprouted above 5"4’. That might not be so bad if I wasn’t 5"11’ and the tallest girl in my class. I guess I need to go shopping for flats this afternoon. 

I gulped down my weary disappointment and said to myself, “Don’t be superficial. Beauty is on the inside. This guy could be a charmer with personality for days - don’t be so quick to judge. What’s the worst thing that could happen, Maria?”

@fyadallas you’re up!

fyadallas:

While I was at the mall shopping for flats (Side note: Have you ever found a pair of prom-worthy flats? Because what passes for a mall in this one-horse town didn’t have one. single. pair that were remotely okay, and I had to settle for basic black ballerina flats. SO BORING.), I realized what I had to do.

In all honesty, I’ve watched enough teen romantic comedies that it shouldn’t have taken me so long to figure out the answer. What we needed was a makeover montage. You know the kind where the homely girl’s friends put her in a dress, some makeup, and take off her glasses, and suddenly she’s the hottest ticket in town? Everyone realizes what a great person she was now that she wasn’t completely overlook-able? Yes, that should solve my problem nicely.

Except the makeover wouldn’t be for me. It would be for Tony de Luca. Would a tux and a haircut fix his problems? Would I have to fight of tons off girls once we got to the prom?

More importantly, would the mob put out a hit on me if I put some concealer on his zits?

@kcfya, show us where this leads!

kcfya:

It was surprisingly easy to talk Tony into going to the mall with me the Saturday morning of Prom. I thought there’d be more bribing involved, but Tony seemed genuinely excited. Apparently, he didn’t get out of the house much. 

I’d managed to book us the last spot open at Glam-o-Rama, which of course was the 8am slot. Armed with enough coffee to wake a hibernating bear, which I’m sure I resembled in my lazily tossed up hair and last nights make up still smudged under my eyes, the morning surprisingly went fairly smooth. As I paid for a new deep red shade of lipstick called Nosferatu, Tony came sauntering out of Glam-o-Rama looking like…well…there was only so much a mall makeover could do for a guy. Still, it was an improvement, and with a pair of lifts borrowed from my uncle Sal, he was reasonable close to my height.

At least we won’t be a laughing stock, I thought to myself. Aloud I said, “Looking good Tony.”

A sheepish grin fit on his face. He didn’t look half bad when he smiled. He rubbed a hand on his cheek. “I don’t know how I’m going to keep this on all day.” I reached over and pulled his hand away from his face. “By not rubbing it off. That’d be a good start.”

We walked down the escalator and through the double doors that led to the darkened parking garage. Even at 10am, the garage was still full of cars left over from the night before when the only night club in town, Lightening Blue, had its usual Friday night half-priced drinks special for the ladies. You just have to make it ten more hours, I told myself. What could go wrong in ten hours? I quickly found the answer to that question as we approached my car and the sound of a gunshot echoed through the parking garage.

Take it away @kcmofya

kcmofya:

I grabbed Tony and ducked behind the nearest car, a hulking SUV.

“What was tha—”

“Quiet!” I shushed him as we heard voices moving steadily closer to our hiding spot. I crouched further in the shadows of the SUV, my heart pounding. I was suddenly very grateful that the green living movement hadn’t made its way to Sunnyvale yet. Tony stuck his head around the side of the SUV before I could stop him.

“What the hell are you doing?  They’ll see us!” I hissed at him.

“It’s…” he leaned farther forward. “It’s my Uncle Vito and some other guy. I can’t see his face. They’re dragging something behind them. Something big.”

“Probably the body of whoever they just shot! And if they see us, we’re next!”

“Come on. It’s my uncle. He wouldn’t shoot anyone. I’ll just ask him what’s going on.”

“Are you kidding me? You’re going to just stroll out there and ask a murderer what’s up?” For the son of a mob boss, this kid was pretty clueless. Or pretty brave.

“He’s not a murderer.”

“We heard a gunshot and he’s dragging what’s obviously a body!”  

As we argued over what to do, the two men and whatever they were dragging (A body. It had to be a body, right?) hopped in a car a few rows down and took off. Tony and I crawled out of our hiding spot and ran over to my car.

“We have to call the police! Where is my phone?” I scrambled through my purse. My hands were shaking and I could feel myself sweating right through the make-up I’d just spent the last of my paycheck on. So much for my cat-eye and subtle glow. I was glowing like a pig now.

“Maria, wait. We can’t call the police. Let me call my dad first, okay?”

He pulled out his phone, while I tried to calm myself down. So my prom date is the son of a mob boss and we just witnessed him probably murdering someone. No big deal right?  It’ll be fine. Everything’s fine. Deep breaths.

‘Hey, uh, Maria? My dad wants to talk to you.”

Me? Why does he want to talk to me?!

@lonfya it’s all you!

lonfya:

“Miss Esposito, I trust you and my son are getting along?” Dominic de Luca’s voice was nothing like my expectations. He sounded more like a man accustomed discussing the merits of expensive wines than one suspected of drowning his rivals in buckets of the cheap stuff. Though I’d hoped I’d never have to play this game, I knew the rules: Show respect. Stick to the facts.

“Yes Sir, Mr de Luca.” 

“Good. I’m not going to waste time pretending you don’t understand what’s going on. The original terms of the agreement with your family state that any involvement in our interests would be cause for immediate and…rather final discussions. However, on this one occasion I am willing to overlook your participation. Provided you do something for me.”

Tony had climbed into the front seat and had adjusted the rear-view mirror to get another look at his made-up face, the unblemished skin apparently more interesting than gunshots, a body, and his family’s involvement. I crossed pretty brave off the list of possibilities. “Let me Guess. Keep Tony out of it?”

“Correct. My son isn’t yet aware of what the family business entails. You will do whatever is necessary to keep it that way. In return, I will ensure your involvement remains a secret. Do we have an understanding?”

“Yes Sir, Mr de Luca.”

“Good. Have a nice time at prom. Such a magical evening.”

The line went dead. For years I’d lived with worst-case scenarios in my head. Threats, violence, danger. I’d run through every possible variation. Or so I thought. Protecting the oblivious son of the second most powerful mobster in the country on prom night had somehow never factored into my planning. The way I saw it, there were only two choices.

@lrfya tell us what happens next!

lrfya:

I could keep my mouth shut and have an okay time with Tony at the prom. Or I could do what I’ve trained my entire life to do.

Because the gun shot, Uncle Vito, and the body he dragged out of here? They were all adding up in my head. Someone had been following us, and they’d been taken down by Vito. I knew there was no way in hell that Carlo Esposito, my father and the most powerful mobster in the country, would let me go to prom with Dominic De Luca’s son without sending someone from his security detail to tail me.

And I knew who that someone would be.

Joseph Lucas started working for my dad when he was 12 and I was 10. His dad had been my father’s most dedicated employee until he was killed in a stand off against the De Lucas seven years ago, so Joey’d been around most of my life. He was always such a nightmare–burping in my face and yanking my ponytail. I think my dad felt sorry for him, so once he got old enough, Dad would send him on harmless little errands in exchange for pocket money. When he got older, Joey started boxing with some of the other guys, learning tricks of the trade. And since we were in high school together, Dad eventually hired him to be my own personal security detail.

Emily was the only person who knew why Joey was always hanging around, always in the background, never saying much. My other friends assumed he had a huge crush on me, and couldn’t understand why I didn’t like him back. “He’s so hot,” they’d say. “And cut. And mysterious and brooding.”

Which, objectively, yeah, sure, whatever. But I’d always resented Joey’s presence, even when my dad wanted him all up in my business and Joey kept his distance anyway. Even when we’d spar at the gym and he’d take his shirt off. Even when he was hanging around the house eating my food, and watching my TV and grinning his stupid charming grin.

I resented Joey because I didn’t need a bodyguard. And I don’t mean I didn’t need a bodyguard because I was unsafe. I didn’t need a bodyguard because I could take care of myself.

My dad didn’t trust anyone — not even Joey — to completely leave me in their hands. I’d been trained in Krav Maga, knife-throwing, and three different types of mixed martial arts, all by private trainers from a very young age. I could shoot a gun better than any of my dad’s employees. I knew how to untie 36 different kinds of knots, blindfolded with my hands tied behind my back. And I could track like a hunter.

Dominic wouldn’t have killed Joey outright. He’s too valuable, has too much intel. They most likely wounded him and are keeping him somewhere…Dominic owned commercial property — a bunch of rundown warehouses on the east side of town. It was a starting point, at least.

I buckled my seat belt and turned to Tony. “I have an errand to run. And I’m going to warn you, it’s probably not how you’d like to spend your Saturday. So I’m giving you the opportunity to get out now.”

Tony looked confused. “Get out? We’re in a parking garage! I need a ride home. I’m not getting out.”

I turned the ignition. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” As we pulled up to the street, I stopped. Left? Or right? Look for details…Vito would’ve been in a hurry…a big hurry.

I let out a snort when I saw it. “Let me guess. Your Uncle Vito drives a big, black Cadillac Escalade?”

Tony’s brow wrinkled. “Yeah, why?”

I pointed at the black marks freshly smeared across the road…headed east. “I know those tires. It’s like the official car of mobsters everywhere.” I took a deep breath. I had ten hours to find Uncle Vito, get Joey back without being seen, and get to the prom. And somehow keep Tony from figuring out what I was doing. And if I failed? Dominic would probably kill me.

I threw my car to the right and slammed on the gas. “Hold on tight, Tony.”

@fyaorlandonorth y’all take it from here!

fyaorlandonorth:

We drove in silence for half an hour until Tony finally broke it by asking, “Where are we going, Maria?”

I sucked on my lip and glanced over at him. “Your uncle, uh…he took something of mine. I need to get it back.”

Tony turned towards the window so I couldn’t see his face. “You know, I’m not as clueless as you think I am,” he said, continuing darkly. “Or my father thinks I am.”

My eyebrows lifted in surprise. “So you know about—”

“The family business? Your family business?” He cut in. “Enough. So why don’t you just tell me what is really going on?”

In the distance I can see a collection of warehouses near the water, where I’m hoping that Uncle Vito is holding Joey. We’re approaching a small dirt road that seems to meander towards the far end of the buildings, so I hit my blinker and hang a left, coming to a stop just after the turn off. Tony turns to me with a questioning look.

“Alright, I’m just going to lay it all out here. We don’t have time to mess around and I’m done being cautious.” I take a deep breath. “Our dads are some of the biggest Mafia bosses in town. They deal in drugs, but not it’s not the kind you might think.” I feel the words crowding in my mouth, impatient to get out. “There are ways to harness the energy of a large group of people and distill it into an extremely potent yet non-addictive elixir. One drop is better than any high you could imagine, and it lasts for hours. Love, happiness, fear, pain; you name it, they’ve got an elixir for it.”

Tony’s mouth was hanging open, but to his credit, he wasn’t freaking out. “So they…harness the emotions of a crowd?” he asked.

I nodded. “For certain events—like prom, for example—where emotions are heightened, hormones are running wild. Can you imagine the euphoria you would experience if someone put all that energy into a concentrated potion?

“The take is so big that our families will put aside their differences once a year just so we can both get a cut.” I sighed. “I’d finally convinced my dad to put me in charge of making sure things on our end went off without a hitch, but nowyour Uncle Vito has stolen my bodyguard and I need to know why, because from over here, it looks like your dad is planning to turn on us. And if this happens on my watch, I’m going to have to keep a close eye on both sides to make sure my head stays with my body.”

“What you’re saying sounds insane,” Tony said. “But I also feel like it all makes perfect sense.” He squeezed the armrest and swallowed what seemed like a dozen times before giving me a determined nod. “So then let’s go find out what Uncle Vito is up to.”

Run with it, @pghfya!

pghfya:

On the way to Uncle Vito’s lair, I decided on a last minute detour to Taco Bell.  Hey, a girl can get hungry during a Mob chase, and also there was somethingnot on the menu that needed ordering.

“Welcome to Taco Bell, may I take your order?” the speaker blared at me.

“Yeah, can I have a Quesadilla with extra pickles?”

“And a Crunchwrap Supreme!” Tony yells before I can tell him that this isn’t a regular order.

When I pull to the window they hand me a brown paper bag. And then they give me a small plastic one with Tony’s Crunchwrap. I throw over the Crunchwrap and pull away from the window without paying. They know where to get the money for this order.

“I can’t believe you ordered pickles on your quesadilla! That’s so gross. Also, why do they have pickles at a Taco Bell?  This day cannot get weirder!” Tony says around a mouthful of Mexican food.

“I 100% bet that it can.”

I pull into a parking spot and unroll the bag. I’ve never actually had to place this order before, and now that I have, I’m beginning to realize that shit is serious. I look at the Emojiicon Extractor 3000 sitting at the bottom of the bag, take a deep breath and reverse the car. This is going to be one hell of a ride.

When I pull into Vito’s hideout, I notice two things:

There are cows (dairy cows as Tony points out)

Sitting in the field behind the cows is a large, round, silver aircraft of some sort.  If I didn’t know any better, I would say it looks like an alien ship.

“Dude, there are ALIENS here,” Tony says. Well then. I guess I don’t know better.

@fyavanwa What’s next??

fyavanwa:

We quickly fall to a crouch behind a large bale of hay, not ideal for cover, but it’ll do for now. I turn to see what Tony is looking at and promptly whack him upside the head with my empty hand. “Haven’t you ever seen a person in a hazmat suite before!? I thought you were supposed to be some kind of geeky kid, haven’t you ever seen a sci fi flick?” I say in a whisper-yell kind of way.

He gives me a droll look and rubs the back of his head, “It’s a common misconception that to be geeky, one needs to be a sci fi fanatic. I prefer fantasy, like Game of Thrones or DnD. Basically, any kind of RPG or anything really, involving the possibly of dragons.”

“DnD? RPG? Do you only speak in acronyms?”

“Dungeons and Dragons is a type of RPG or Role-Playing Game. But I feel like aliens in general are a big part of science fiction so my original observation wouldn’t be so far outside the realm of possibilities, using your logic of….”

“Shut up…”

I interrupt him, because suddenly I see Vito and the mysterious faced person carrying a slumped over Joey-shaped-lump between them. They are about ten paces ahead of our position and are completely engrossed in watching the hazmat suited people loading large boxes into the round aircraft.

I lean in close to Tony, “So here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to go take those guys out nice and quiet like. You follow close behind me and catch Joey before he falls and makes a big clattering noise, then we silently take him back to the car and get the hell out of here. You got it?”

“I’m not going to let you kill my Uncle” and for a second I think I see some menace behind his painted face.

“Relax, I’m not going to kill anybody. I can set this emotion extractor in such a way that it will only knock a person out for a short time. Just enough for us to get Joey and book it out of here.”

To his credit, Tony doesn’t ask questions like, “How?” or “Why?” or “What will happen if they catch us?” He just nods his head in grudging trust and acceptance. I engage the Emojiicon Extractor, make sure it’s set right, and with a here-we-go nod to Tony, I spring into action…

•  If you’re looking for your mom to save you, read on for KCFYA's ending.

•  If you’re interested in seeing Maria use the emotion extractor to full effect, read on for LONFYA's ending.