#a full on cauldron where i was listing the ingredients i put into drawing him and whatever

[crunchchute]

When you draw Dave it looks so much like the comic but manages to avoid any uncanniness 👍

well, i can certainly do whatever the hell this is:

but obviously i wanted to put some of my own ingredients into the design like people do, however thats more specifically for william, i made a "reference sheet" for him how i wanted to draw him initially

but when it comes to Dave, i like to mix it up and go for something in the middle i guess? like taking my Will design and Dave and put them in a blender and whatever comes out of it is what you see

but obviously im taking full inspo from pinky, and all controversies aside, i do like her artstyle and i think the comic has just been drawn in more rush? no idea, but her personal work seems more polished atm. and yeah the comic panels do look quite uncanny but i think the design is a great one, and somehow it just stuck in my brain as The William design, not even the movie one took the spot (even reading parts of the novelization, i just see Dave in that Williams spot)

also gotta add, i prefer my Will at least a little bit "ugly" unstead just conventionally hot. (well he is hot to me like this lol) so i will still try to implement the goofy comic style as i go aaand i do love drawing in a cartoony style, it just looks weird if i do shading and painting so. yippee inconsistency!!

ALSO have to mention gorillaz. i wonder if it shows but Jamie's artstyle is a huge inspo to me so, my Will is like, Dave if he was gorillaz or something. uncanny Murdoc 🤝 uncanny William. and i make them more pleasant looking. i think

[yannowhatigiveup]

My One And Only - Chapter 18

Previous | Next | Master List

Hey! Welcome back to another chapter of MOaO! I won’t be able to update this as much as I want to (I’m not really updating it as fast as I won’t to right now but I’m trying) as exams are coming up as well as other various things. (I just realized that I haven’t said this earlier I’m so sorry, Ramadan Kareem to those who celebrate it!) Also, thank you so much for 128 followers!

"...I believe I found a way to subdue Hawkmoth"

————————————————————

Her eyes repeatedly scanned the page, making sure she was reading it correctly.

"It won't defeat Hawkmoth" Damian carefully pointed out, not wanting to diminish her excitement. "But it'll be able to stop him for some time, a month or two at most"

"Do you know what this means?" Her voice was barely above a whisper. "We'll be able to have some peace of mind! We'll be able to prepare ourselves! The whole of Paris! Who know, maybe we'll be able to get some clues on his identity as well as Mayura's as well!"

By the end, Marinette was spinning around the room, her slight giggles of happiness appeared here and there. Damian chuckled at her delight, seeing her happy was probably one of his most favourite sites in the world, that and seeing her flustered.

"I understand that you're excited but what do these cryptic messages mean, 'a tear of joy'? Did I translate that correctly"

She giggled at his confusion. "No that's one of the ingredients for the power up. Speaking of ingredients, I need to get some" Her bluebell eyes quickly scanned over the tablet again before she speed walked out of the hotel with Damian on her arm. "We're going to Master Fu's old place, he still has some ingredients we could use"

The two walked in silence, there was a topic that they needed to discuss, the end of the week was approaching fast.

"Maybe in the small time of peace, I can get Father and my brothers to help"

The bluenette chuckled slightly but not out of amusement. "I almost forgot, you'll be leaving in a few days" her gaze fell to the ground before she looked up at her boyfriend, solemnly. "It's gonna be a lot different, huh?"

He squeezed her hand gently with a comforting smile on his face. "It will be but I'm sure we'll handle it"

The couple grabbed the necessary ingredients and made their way back to the hotel. They dropped them off at the hotel room before making their way upper to the restaurant to get some food. Their dinner was quickly interrupted by a rockstar coming to congratulate his niece.

"Nettie! You're rock'n'roll! Your song is a huge hit!" Jagged exclaimed once he reached the table, he only seemed to register there was another person there once he sat down. His moderate cyan eyes widened in recognition when his gaze landed on the green-eyed boy. "You must be Damian, you look just like you're old man Brucie"

Damian shook his hand when the rockstar had offered it. "I am, Mr Stone"

"Uncle Jagged-"

"You break my niece's heart, I'll send Fang to eat you"

"Uncle Jagged!-"

"And I will gladly let you"

"I approve of your relationship, I just wanted to give the shovel talk since it sounded fun"

Marinette gaped at the two males on her table. "Dami, don't encourage him! I've already got Gami waiting to spar with you"

"Ah yes, my son's girlfriend is just as scary as Penny" Jagged visibly shuddered in good nature.

"Wait, Luka and Gami got together? Without telling me?!" The bluenette huffed, offended. "And to think I'm his honorary cousin"

Jagged chortled at her reaction while Damian had a faint smile playing on his lips. The rockstar decided to take his leave shortly after that, not wanting to draw some unwanted attention. He did manage to leave a pair of blushing teens as he told them to "Use protection!" before departing. Marinette was utterly embarrassed while Damian was flustered. Once dinner was finished, the couple went back to Damian's hotel room to discuss what they were going to do next.

Doing his best to help, Damian passed the ingredients to his girlfriend who then mixed up said ingredients in a pot.

"Can you get the Tear of Joy, Dami?"

The green-eyed boy looked through the ingredients until he found the slim bottle with a minuscule amount of clear liquid. He eyed the water as it squished in the bottle, it seemed so ordinary despite the great magic it could create. Damian could almost see the water taunting him with its mystic properties, he could just about feel it as he brought the bottle closer to the cauldron.

"This is it, correct?" The ravenette showed the blue-eyed girl the bottle in his hand

Her eyes lit up when presented with the vial. "Yes, that's it" As she removed the cork that was sealing the bottle shut, Damian asked a question that was lingering in the back of his mind.

"What exactly is the tear of joy?"

Marinette turned to smile at him. "It's a tear of joy"

"So a tear caused by laughter?"

"Precisely" She looked up at the ceiling wistfully. "I remember, when Syren attacked, Master Fu was trying to decode what a 'tear of joy' was. It took some time but we managed to figure it out in the end" She sighed. "It's great that we managed to find out about 'power-ups' but if we found out about them sooner, maybe more people would've been saved."

He put his hands comfortably on her shoulders. "What did Syren do exactly?"

She stopped dead in her tracks. That wasn't the reaction that Damian was expecting, whatever had happened with this Akuma must have been bad to induce this response.

The bluenette sighed and looked at the green-eyed boy straight into his emerald eyes. "Syren was one of the most dangerous Akumas we've ever had to deal with. She flooded all of Paris with her tears, only a few hundred people managed to reach the rooftops in time"

A breath quickly sucked in through his lips, the scene itself sounded horrible, imagining it even more so, having to actually see it must have been... traumatic.

"But Ondine is doing much better with Kim. And it's all in the past, we've learnt how to deal with the memories!" Her smile hurt to look at. His girlfriend had to deal with so much and she couldn't even express her negativity without fear of becoming an akuma. Damian placed a kiss on her head as she finally got the lid off of the bottle.

Both teens watched in anticipation as the droplet rolled down to the bottle's lip, teetering over the edge. It fell in. The concoction then shimmered a silvery blue. Grabbing a bottle, Marinette poured some of the liquid inside it, looked at the bottle and hummed in satisfaction. She quickly put all the equipment used back in a box and cleaned up any mess made. Once she was finished, she turned to the boy standing over her.

"I'll bring these back to Master Fu's old apartment then I'll drop this bottle off at my house, you can tell Tikki and Plagg that they can come out now"

The contents of the box shifted to one side, Damian helped steady both the bluenette and the box before going to the kwamis. Once the kwamis where comfortably with their owners, Tikki in Marinette's purse and Plagg in Damian's hoodie pocket, they made their way to the apartment. It still technically belonged to Master Fu, he rest hadn't rented it out so they were free to roam around. After putting the equipment away, the couple strolled to Marinette's house hand in hand. The bluenette went up to her balcony, with Damian close behind, and hid the bottle under her pink-striped deck chair, away from the sunlight.

"It needs to 'mature' in the moonlight, I guess. So when the moon is out, I'll take the bottle out" Marinette gestured for Damian to follow her as she went back down to the bakery portion of her house. "I'll give you some Camembert with the power ups infused. But I'll have to make it first!"

She hummed as she went upside to retrieve other substances that Master Fu had taught her to create. In the moment she was gone, Plagg appeared.

"I hate transforming!" The black kwami whined, settling in the boy's hair.

"What's so bad about it?" Damian raised an eyebrow at Plagg's outburst.

"It ruins the beautiful taste of Camembert, and it tastes weird"

"Quit your whining Plagg" Tikki's squeaky, but still relatively scary, voice rang out as both she and her owner returned.

"But Sugarcube-"

"No 'but's Stinky Sock!"

Damian watched with quiet amusement while Marinette giggled, handing him a wheel of Camembert.

"The cheese is cut up in different slices, each representing a different power up. I'll explain which is which on the way back to the hotel"

Damian put the wheel in his pocket before taking the bluenette's hand. "I look forward to it"

~~~

Each power up was simple enough, they all had a different colour corresponding with it's ability, making it easier to memorize. The couple walked by a dark alley as Damian check the time. Passing his phone to the bluenette next to him, Marinette took one glance at the time before dragging the two of them into said dark alley. It was time for patrol. Once both were done transforming, Noir and Ladybug made their to the assigned rooftop. When landing, Noir took his staff and looked through the help guide to get a better idea of what weapon he was working with. Spinning the staff with his hands, he separated the staff into two separate batons. He hummed in contentment.

"Grayson never gave me his escrima sticks for missions. I suppose this is good training if I ever want to use them"

The two rods snapped back together with a satisfying snap. Continuing to look through the articles on his now full staff, Noir didn't even notice when Ladybug moved to stand behind him. In one swift motion, the spotted heroine pulled down the black hood that was shielding the black cat-themed hero's face.

"La-"

Her covered fingers stroked his black cat ears, she giggled as his cheeks flushed. The feeling itself was unusual to the green-eyed hero, he had never felt anything remotely similar before but he wouldn't say he didn't enjoy it. It was just... unexpected. The spotted heroine, however, quite liked making the stoic Noir flustered. His ears felt so much like a real cat's that Ladybug was nearly taken aback, she got used to it after her shock, though. Noir found himself leaning into her touch but looking at everything but her in embarrassment.

Had his ears not been occupied he probably would've heard the two other heroes arriving, he only knew they were here as he saw them in his peripheral vision, rolling his eyes as he noticed them snickering.

'Angel, Rena and Chien are here'

Ladybug's head snapped in the direction of the two other heroes, one of her hands left his head as she she greeted the fox and the dog.

"Hello Rena Rouge, Chien" Ladybug greeted them casually, something Noir knew he couldn't do at that moment.

"Hello to you too LB! Hey Noir, did the bug find a way to tame you?

He mumbled a reply.

Ladybug giggled before turning to properly address the other heroes. "I've been thinking of adding three more members. I know it's a lot since you, Rena, have only just been announced as a permanent user and you, Chien, have basically just joined. But Noir and I found something that will require their help. I have a hunch that Hawkmoth might try something like Guerrier but with the same level as Syren"

The fox-themed hero nodded. "You need all the help you can get. So who do you have in mind?"

"A Snake, a Bee and a Dragon" The spotted heroine answered with no hesitation. "We'll need a snake as it is... intuitive"

Upon registering the description, Chien chuckled. "Isn't that the point?"

"Perhaps" Ladybug hummed with a smile on her face. "A dragon can control elements, a strong power would be useful. The bee miraculous's power is immobilization-"

"Paralysis can be very beneficial when trying to stop an akuma" Noir provided his input.

"Yes. So what do you think?" The spotted heroine looked between the three heroes standing on the rooftop with her. Noir hummed approval while Chien gave her a thumbs up.

"You always have the best ideas, Bug!" Rena voiced out her agreement, Ladybug let out a sigh of relief she didn't know she was holding.

"Then I'll go get them now shall I? We gotta teach them as fast as we can" The blue-eyed heroine took the yo-yo from her hip, spinning it with a flick of her wrist. "I'll send them here and then you show them the ropes"

"Aye aye Captain!" Chien saluted and Rena followed suit, only after a quick laugh. Noir rolled his eyes in good nature while pulling his hood back up, flicking his cat ears before doing so.

Hurling her yo-yo at a nearby building, Ladybug hissed through the air, her yo-yo latching onto another building as she neared the previous. Soon enough, she landed gracefully in a quiet area where two familiar figures were strolling hand in hand.

"Ladybug?" A boy with dyed hair questioned, a bluenette with short hair and almond eyes next to him.

She nodded before pulling out two miraculous from her yo-yo with, presumably, unlimited storage. "Luka Couffaine, Kagami Tsurugi, these are the miraculous of the Snake and the miraculous of the Dragon. They grant you the powers of Intuition and Perfection. You will use these miraculouses for the greater good, can I trust you?"

Luka and Kagami shared a knowing look then turned to the heroine in front of them.

"You can count on use Ladybug"

"We're honored to be chosen to fight by your side, my Ladybug"

She gave them the miraculous and watched as they both transformed into Viperion and Ryuko. "The others are waiting at this location." She showed them a map on her yo-yo. "I'll meet you there once I finish with a task a have to do." She hissed through the air once more, thanks to her yo-yo, and landed on a rooftop that was very familiar now. There stood a blonde, leaning on the banister.

"Ladybug?" Chloe's confused voice rang out.

"Hello Chloe Bourgeois" Ladybug took something from her yo-yo. "This is the Bee miraculous, it grants the power to immobilise your opponents. Should you choose to help us-"

"I can't"

"Pardon?"

"I said I can't" The blonde looked solemnly at the heroine. "I've been an utterly horrible person, I don't deserve to be a hero. Especially after... Queen Bee"

"People can change Chloe" Ladybug put a hand on the blonde's shoulder. "As long as they are given the chance to. Do you want to take this chancep?"

Chloe stared at the miraculous before looking at the heroine with a determined expression.

"I won't let you down, Ladybug"

~~~

Ladybug soon returned with a bee-themed heroine, named Honey Bee, by her side. After a brief reintroduction, the patrol began. Rena Rouge took the west side with Honey Bee and Viperion, Chien and Ladybug took the East while Ryuko and Noir took the North, they had already checked the South. Most of the patrol was done in silence, other than the odd 'nothing wrong here'. Ryuko had been the one to start a conversation

"You're the new wielder of black cat miraculous, correct?" The dragon user questioned Noir. He recognised it as the beginning of an interrogation.

"It certainly seems that way" Ryuko hummed.

"You fancy Ladybug, don't you" The question obviously took him aback. "Do you consider yourself... worthy?

The cat-themed hero didn't hesitate. "No"

He saw her raise her eyebrows.

"Ladybug is too virtuous for this world, there's not a soul in this entire universe worthy of her affection"

The dragon hummed in satisfaction. "You remind me of the boyfriend of one of my friends. Though I have yet to be convinced that he should date said friend, you have proved yourself worthy of Ladybug. I approve of your relationship even though it isn't my place to make such a decision"

"I am pleased" Despite the fact that he is a leader in this team, he's content with the fact he has the great dragon user's approval as she is the most intimidating of the team, other than Ladybug herself.

"Also don't mess this up, Ladybug is a Queen " Ryuko casually pointed out.

"Glad I am not the only one that thinks so"

"How can you not? Have you seen her?!"

"She's a goddess"

"You have my approval again"

~~~

Noir and Ryuko were first to arrive as they had finished their patrol early, the rest of the team weren't too far behind, however.

"Alright" Ladybug began once everyone returned. "Honey Bee, Viperion, Ryuko, it'll be best if you memorize all of Paris. That way, when there's trouble, you'll know your way around."

"I found that an aerial view is the fastest way to know the city like the back of your hand!" Rena Rouge pointed out.

"That's also the way I did it!" Chien chimed in,

"Yep! If you don't mind, there's something I'd like to discuss with both Rena Rouge and Chien. Noir, will you join us?" The spotted heroine turned to the heroes named.

"I ought to" He replied flatly.

"Alright then, follow me!" Ladybug hissed through the air followed by Noir with his staff and Rena and Chien with their enhanced abilities. Soon they landed in an alley. "I know you already know this, Rena, but I think it's fair if Chien knows too"

"Fair that I know what?" His gaze moved between the two heroines before landing on the black cat hero, silently begging for answers, to which Noir returned with an unconvincing shrug.

"That you know this. Tikki, spots off!" A blinding red light filled the narrow corner they were in, Rena shut one of her eyes while Chien shut both, Noir was shielded from the light thanks to his hoodie. Then, a certain Marinette Dupain-Cheng stood where the spotted heroine once was.

"Wh- Bu- How-" Chien spluttered as his brain combusted with all the information that was flowing through it at once. Marinette giggled at his confusion, Rena full on laughed, clutching her stomach while Noir merely smirked. "But, but I saw you standing next to Ladybug! Wait no, yourself? My brain is melting! Wait, you two knew?!" The dog-themed hero screeched.

"She's my best friend" Rena shrugged with an innocent expression, her transformation dropped. Chien stared in shock.

"She's my girlfriend" Noir mimicked Rena Rounge's shrug while letting his transformation fall too, leaving Chien the only one transformed.

"Okay THAT makes sense, you're both deathly attr- Wait, did you say best fRIEND?!" Chien shrieked and detransformed.

"ADRIEN?!" Alya exclaimed, Marinette and Damian watched in amusement.

"As entertaining as this is-" The green-eyed boy cut in before the pair would attract unwanted attention. "-Marinette needs to explain the reason why she revealed her identity to you"

The bluenette nodded. "You see early today, at school, I had this 'miraculous burn' I guess you could say from Guerrier's attack. Thanks to Alya I'm feeling better but that resulted in getting my identity revealed. So to avoid anymore incidents like that, I also told you Adrien. I can't tell the rest of the team yet as I don't want them to go all protective over me, you'll three will have enough overprotectiveness"

"Not wrong there, girl" Alya said without shame.

"I know I have to tell them my true identity at some point but right now it's better just to have you three know."

"We understand" Alya and Adrien said in unison.

"Great, now let's go back to the others so we can tell them patrol is over"

~~~

It was sunset, the orange cotton clouds contrasted beautifully with the darkening blue sky. A cool wind blew through the air, cold enough to make one shiver but not enough to catch a cold. Walking hand in hand, a couple made their way to Le Grand Paris. The bluenette looked up to the noirette next to her, leaning onto his arm covered by the Robin-themed hoodie and smiling while doing so, she closed her eyes to savor the moment.

"Angel?" Damian brushed the stray hairs on her face as she pulled away to look at him properly.

"You know, I'm really going to miss this" Marinette raised their conjoined hands as they approached the hotel doors.

He hummed and in response, put his arm around her waist to pull her closer while going through the elevator doors. "I am too"

They soon reached the hotel room, the kwamis roaming around for food once they got inside. Food in hand, Tikki and Plagg sat of the coffee table, leaning on one another as Damian turned on the screen to watch a movie. Once he was comfortably seated, Marinette joined him, snuggling into his side. He brushed his fingers through her silky midnight hair. He was going to miss this, deeply. What would life be like going back, without the beautiful bluenette physically next to him?

'I do not want to find out'

———

Provisional Cessation, It was created for the purpose of temporarily stopping a miraculous from being used if any harm were to come to the user. It would also deem it unusable for a certain period of time if the miraculous were ever come into the wrong hands. The reason Master Fu didn't tell Marinette this information was because the last time a user tried this power up, they were put into a magical induced coma, it was too risky.

———

Taglist:@little-bluestar,@miracleofadisaster,@frieddonutsweets,@jjmjjktth,@genderfluidmoma,@starlit-dreaming,@icerosecrystal,@lolieg,@kashlyn,@mochegato,@eggadoodle,@walkingthroughonautopilot,@toodaloo-kangaroo,@lady-bee-fechin,@weebjai1

[idk-maybe-i-did-it]

Scars: Year one, Chapter three

Remus Lupin x Reader

Warnings: Trashy writing, it gets better after fourth year (a/e I made a timeskip to fourth year after I finished first)

Y/n P.o.V.

One day while I was at lunch the mail owls came and I actually received something. A howler, Sirius had received something of the sort from his mum a few days ago. James, Sirius, Peter and Remus all looked me straight in the eye and told me to run. I got up and as quickly as I could I rushed to a concealed part of the castle then, the howler went off. It was the voice of my mother.

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

I silently whispered 'yes mother' before dropping to the floor and clamping my hand to my mouth to muffle the cries. I sat there on the floor silently crying for about five minutes before using the conceal spell, Anstiphamore (yes it's made up), to hide all evidence that I had cried to begin with. Before making my way back to the great hall to go to classes with the boys.

3rd person P.o.V.

Little did the girl know that a certain dusty brown haired boy had followed her and heard the entire conversation. Almost breaking down in tears as well.

Y/n P.o.V.

Once I re-entered the dining hall Remus went up to me and handed me my bag before we all started off for classes.

" So Y/n, what was it about?" James asked me quizzically. I tried to think of a good cover up for what really happened.

" It was just about that one day I got sick and missed a test. Nothing to worry about James." Andddd to finish it off I gave him a small smile. Only thing left is to see if he believed it.

" Whatever you say Y/n." James said before he, Sirius and Peter entered their class while Remus and I waved them goodbye. We had an advanced potion lesson together next. Once we entered the class Remus and I put our bags under the table and went to the back of the room to get our cauldrons before going back to the desk. I rolled up my sleeves and copied down the notes for today's lesson before listening and copying down Prof. Slughorns list of ingredients, steps and instructions for todays potion.

Near the end of the lesson Remus's hand slipped and he added too much Boomslang powder to the potion. I pointed it out to him and he sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck before saying that he was too far into it to restart. Prof. Slughorn checked all of our potions at the end of the class and it turns out that Remus's little slip up caused me to get bunked up to top of the class.

After class Remus and I were readying our things so we could meet up with the others before going to our next class together. Right as we were walking out of the classroom Prof. Slughorn stopped us. " No, actually, Y/n, Professor Dumbledore needs you in his office before you go to your next class. You're free to leave Lupin." I looked at Remus and he told me he would copy down my notes for me until I got back.

Slughorn led me to Prof. Dumbledores' office where I sat anxiously in an armchair waiting for him to come in. Slughorn left after Dumbledore came in. When he sat down at his desk I started to play with the hem of my skirt, waiting for him to start the conversation.

After ze' meeting.

" I also need to know the makings of your spell. All of the teachers will be informed of your situation so they know what not to do and what to do around you."

I nodded my head in silence before grabbing a quill and piece of parchment and writing out and drawing how to use the spell  Anstiphamore. I packed up my quill, left the parchment on his desk, quietly thanked him and left. Instead of going off to class I went to Myrtle's bathroom and sat on the floor silently crying while Myrtle comforted me.

Surprisingly enough Myrtle and I had actually become pretty close over my time here. Probably because I'm one of the few people who comes and sees her often.

After I finished tearing my eyes out, I left for my next class and met up with the boys on the way. Remus looked at my questioningly and pointed at my eyes before I understood what he meant and preformed the spell to cover it up and make my puffy eyes look as though I hadn't cried to begin with.

Sirius spoke up once he saw me.

" Hey Y/n, I know Slughorn wanted to see you after his class but I didn't expect it to last a full two periods." I looked at Remus and silently mouthed 'thank-you' before he hung back and waited for me to catch up. " So what did he need you for?" I explained that he needed to see me because of my grades while Remus handed me the work I missed. Which was only notes...

" Hey, Remus didn't I miss a few essay papers and a test or two?" I asked him while placing the notes in my bag. Before, sitting down at the desk that I share with Remus. " Well that's what I thought too but they just said you were excused from them." I was about to respond to him when the class started.

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

Drop a vote, drink some water, eat some food and remember You Are Loved!

^ - ^

[dreadhaus-literature]

{Collection} A Haunted Haus : Day One

Welcome, spooks and ghouls, but most especially a gooey warm welcome to the star of this collection, our very own resident zombaby, Monica~♥

This is the first day of Spooktober 2019, a 31 day celebration of my favorite time of year, Halloween! As detailed in the Prompt List, there’s a multi-faceted collection taking place this month, prompts on weekdays and chaptered short stories on weekends. Diving a bit deeper into that, I’ve decided to follow Monica’s oh-so-tempting route and am making the prompts linear, so everything written in the next month will be connected by a single plot point.

A plot point that we’ll be introducing tonight, so give me tonight to set up the plot and then we’ll get to the really good stuff in the later prompts. And like any witch’s cauldron, you can expect a wealth of ingredients to this spooky concoction--

Mystery, murder, monsters--oh my!

My witty alliterations aside, I hope this collection is enjoyed. ♥ I went back to our roots and made it Family-centric, as I feel there’s no better time to celebrate Family than the holidays. That’s why we have them, right?

So you can expect the usual cast of characters, but reader beware...

Day One, Start.

“If you say let’s split up, Gun, i swear to god.”

The man in question allowed his jaw to snap shut audibly, effectively trapping the predicted sentence from escaping and inciting Brendan’s wrath. The shorter male had the decency to look sheepish at being caught in his cowardice, but it didn’t change the fact that he did want to suggest splitting up. The fact of the matter was Gunnar couldn’t get far enough away from his current location. He’d be surprised if he ever felt safe again.

Around Brendan and Gunnar the October night sky was inky and dim, stars hidden behind clouds but there was no obscuring the orange sliver of the moon as it sat in it’s perfect crescent shape, as if winking down gleefully at the start of All Hallow’s Eve. It may only be the first of the month but the air was beginning to bite with crisp frost that caught at the mens’ jackets like wolves’ teeth, leaving them shivering from cold just as much as fear. Being on the outskirts of New Senzannini was normally not a scary experience in and of itself; the streets were well-lit and traveled, the populous continent was typically abuzz with life at any given time of day but tonight seemed unusually quiet. Neither of the men were the least bit surprised by this, given they’d had a very unusual past few weeks. Coincidences were one thing, but Gunnar’s battered face and the limp that kept Brendan’s right leg from fully straightening out were just a few telltale signs these two-bit thieves had had a rough time of it as of late.

The reason behind their sour luck was clutched like a lifeline in Brendan’s dirty hands, wrapped in a sheet tied with rope because neither man could stand that thing looking at them anymore.

“Well if you don’t wanna fuckin’ split up, then what do you wanna do?!” Gunnar demanded in a hissed whisper, dark blue eyes glancing at the sheet in Brendan’s hands unconsciously, as if he couldn’t stop himself from checking to make sure it hadn’t moved.

“I don’t...” Brendan exhaled in a rush, teeth worrying his lower lip. “I don’t know, just let me think.”

“We ain’t got time for you to think,” Gunnar shot back immediately. “Besides, it was your dumbass thinkin’ that got us into this fuckin’ mess.”

Brendan’s head snapped up as if pulled by an invisible string made taut. “The fuck it was! I wanted to leave after the first room, you were the one who thought this thing would be worth a fortune and decided to grab it!”

Gunnar whirled away in agitation before he hauled off and hit Brendan--and for what? Being right? It had been Brendan’s idea to do the job but Gunnar had taken one look at the ugly but valuable artifact now wrapped in the sheet and his sticky fingers hadn’t been able to help themselves. He’d known he’d made a mistake the second he’d picked it up--it had felt wrong, like entering a room that was supposed to be full of people only to find it dead silent and empty, but he hadn’t had time to think twice about it. Being a thief was about being opportunistic and being fast; he and Brendan had done countless jobs together since dropping out of high school decades ago but this was the one that went south and not in a way either of them could have predicted.

It had started from the second they’d gotten into their get-away car and driven away from the darkened manor and it hadn’t stopped since.

The larger homes in New Senzannini were often owned by old money and with that came the understanding that a family legacy could be worth millions if thieves could pinpoint which families had heirlooms worth lifting. This particular manor had been non-descript, just some old coot who was a recluse with little to no family left but more money than anyone would know how to spend. The manor had no security guards and a minimalist security system that could be easily patched into from a low-tier smartphone. The job had seemed too easy to these seasoned criminals but low-hanging fruit is often hard to ignore. They’d decided to go through with it anyway and initially it had seemed a great mark. They’d loaded up on valuables ranging from fine antiques to electronics and even cash, but Gunnar had felt something...odd from a room with a quadruple pad-locked door. He and Brendan had initially decided that what was out and easy for the taking was more than enough to justify the breaking and entering but Gunnar hadn’t been able to resist that pull. The more he stared at that ominously locked door, the more he wanted to open it and get what was inside. Brendan had put up a few weak arguments to the contrary but Gunnar couldn’t be dissuaded and after prying the door open with his crowbar, Gunnar had come face to face with a stark room that was completely barren with the exception of a grotesquely hideous looking figurine sat right dead in the center of the room. Gunnar’s flashlight beam threw the thing in such stark relief it had nearly taken his breath away. It had no real discernible facial features but it did have a place where a face should be; instead there just seemed to be an endless void with two pits for eyes and a gaping mouth that seemed capable of fitting his entire fist inside it. The “head” was misshapen, almost as if someone had stepped on it repeatedly, but had been unsuccessful in completely destroying it. It had four arms, not two, and all four of them were twisted in obscene ways, in ways no arm should ever be contorted. They were thick from shoulder to wrist and the “hands” were just three prongs, like a fork--sharpened so that Gunnar was certain a slight poke would draw blood. It’s “legs” were arranged in a tripod, the knees bent at such sharp angles it seemed ready to pounce on the first thing that moved.

It had been difficult to explain why Gunnar felt so put-off by the thing. It just looked...wrong, but he hadn’t been able to stop himself from entering the room. Like a car accident leaving bodies twisted and mangled on open display he couldn’t stop himself from wrapping his fingers around the torso of this toddler-sized talisman and picking it up. It was heavy, like lead, and the closer he brought it to himself the sicker he felt. What...was this thing? Gunnar turned it over, to the left and right, and marveled in almost horror at the way his flashlight beam seemed to be swallowed up by the black obsidian this thing was made of. Why had it been so tightly secured? It seemed so ominous, that the locks were positioned on the outside as if to keep the thing inside...but that was just silly, right? Gunnar was a grown man, a hardened criminal who was here to rob some rich old man so he could support a few vices. He didn’t have time for ghost stories or “bad vibes” from some weird collector’s item. He’d just take it and pawn it with the rest of the shit--with his recent good luck gambling streak maybe it would turn out this thing was ancient and worth more than the house it was currently being kept in. He could make a killing and pay off his debts and then some. He’d move, maybe give up this criminal shit, be comfortable enough to give life a proper go instead of sleeping in crack houses or in the back of Brendan’s truck when it wasn’t safe to go home--

Gunnar had nearly dropped the thing when it’s head turned toward him with an audible snap!

...It had no eyes but Gunnar would have sworn on a stack of bibles the thing was looking at him.

A split second later, Brendan had stuck his head in to see what Gunnar had found and audibly voiced his distaste for the thing, demanding Gunnar “leave that ugly shit here, it can’t be worth a goddamn.” But Gunnar wasn’t going to hear it. There was a reason this thing was in this house and there was a reason it was so tightly locked down when nothing else had been.

Gunnar had been right, of course, he just had the reason wrong.

Once outside in Brendan’s pick-up, their loot in the backseat, the two had been clipped by a run-away semi-truck that had come barreling out of nowhere. Then in the hospital, Brendan’s stitches got infected and Gunnar’s medication got swapped out for high-dose insulin three times, nearly sending him into a coma. Once out of the hospital, their luck only got worse. Brendan’s wife left him, for some reason fed up with his thieving ways when before she’d been more or less passive, and Gunnar’s dog ran away, never to return. While that could be explained as “bad luck” or “coincidence”, as the days ticked by luck began to be the least of their problems. Brendan started hearing voices in his ear at night, as if something was leaning over his bed and whispering horrible things to him.

“You’re gonna die soon.” “I’m going to kill you.” “Open your eyes, Brendan. Look at me. LOOK AT ME!”

But there was never anyone there.

Gunnar was seeing things. Demons, monsters, ghosts--he didn’t know what they were but he hated them. Their faces were always wrong, half-melted or oozing pus from their eye sockets or so horribly twisted their heads were on backward. He’d be washing his face and straighten up to see one in the mirror behind him, or roll over in bed and find one lying beside him.

It hadn’t taken the men long to realize the one piece of loot from the old man’s house they couldn’t unload was the cause for their waking nightmare. No pawn shop would take it, no street level trader wanted anything to do with it, no one wanted the thing and when Gunnar got fed up and threw it away, he woke up the next morning to a frantic call from Brendan that the thing was on his kitchen table. So Gunnar threw it into the ocean, only to wake up the following day and find it lying next to him in bed, one of those sharp-armed prongs so close to his eye if he’d coughed it would have blinded him. Whatever material it was made of was like stone and wouldn’t burn, and even locking it in the trunk of Brendan’s car did nothing to stop their horrible visions, the whispers, and the god-awful luck--bad luck that was beginning to turn life-threatening. What started as inconveniences like runaway dogs or mild infections was now people “accidentally” pushing Gunnar off the crosswalk into on-coming traffic or Brendan’s brake lines failing for no discernible reason. As days turned to weeks with this horrific doll in their lives, Brendan and Gunnar knew they were going to die, that it was only a matter of time.

The final straw happened at 9:37PM on September 30th, nearly seven hours ago. Brendan and Gunnar had been drinking beers at Brendan’s kitchen table, the doll tied up in a bedsheet on the table in front of them when they’d heard it. The doll itself never made a noise, and while it moved it rarely did so while they were looking at it, so the men knew what they were hearing wasn’t coming from the doll...but it was coming from Brendan’s upstairs hallway.

Thump...thump...sliiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiide.

Thump, thump...sliiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiide.

They still didn’t know what it was. Gunnar had just gotten to his feet when Brendan let out a shallow cry of terror at the distorted face that loomed into view. The creature was like something from a nightmare, glistening gore and elongated limbs, teeth made for tearing into something until that something never moved again. Brendan took off like a shot, only just having the presence of mind to grab the doll before he was gone and as Gunnar took off after him, the creature made the most horrible sound, a cross between a wounded animal and the rage of the predator tearing it to pieces.

Brendan’s house was now blocks away but any time the men slowed down, the creature caught up. It just kept coming! It left them with no idea what to do; they had to get rid of the doll but just tossing it aside didn’t break the curse. They didn’t know what it was and thus had no idea how to transfer ownership. They’d stolen it, thus taking possession of it, and they needed to unload this onto someone else before they were ripped to pieces by the thing chasing them down the darkened streets of New Senzannini.

It was Gunnar who saw the creature first, letting out a bellow of surprise before turning and shoving Brendan in the opposite direction with a fierce, “Go, fuckin’ GO!” and the men took off, running as fast as they could with the terrible knowledge that that thing would never get tired. It wasn’t human, it wasn’t natural, so it couldn’t be stopped. They were running on borrowed time and they’d become so sleep-deprived, so battered down by the doll in Brendan’s hands, that they were on their last leg. They weren’t going to last much longer.

Desperation can make a man do things he might not, otherwise.

That thought was the reason Gunnar slid to a stop in front of the massive gate on a very notorious bridge, reaching out to catch Brendan’s jacket.

“Wait, here!”

Brendan turned and drew up to his full height, chest heaving with exertion. He took one look at the gate before glancing at Gunnar in disbelief. “Are you out of your fucking mind?! Do you know where that bridge goes?!” Without waiting for an answer, Brendan gestured with one hand toward the foreboding, starkly lit gate. “The Stone Spider Family lives there, we can’t fuckin’ go there!”

Thump, thump...sliiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiide.

Gunnar glanced over his shoulder, hearing the creature dragging itself ever closer with that god-awful sound and he turned back to his partner. “We don’t got a choice, Bren. We gotta unload this cursed piece of shit or we’re gonna die.”

“And what’re we gonna do, go up and knock on the door and offer it to one of them like a house-warming present?! We’ve tried gettin’ rid of it before!”

“We’ve tried tossin’ it away, like trash, but givin’ it away is what we ain’t tried.”

“Yes we did, no one would take it!”

“Willingly,” Gunnar stressed, pushing Brendan toward the gate. “But I got an idea. I know your leg’s fucked so I’ll give ya a boost up but we gotta go, Bren.”

Brendan had never experienced true fear before this moment. At their back was some unspeakable evil, a creature that shouldn’t exist according to natural law, running them down like dogs with the desire to break them, rip them into unrecognizable pieces and for what? Because of this doll clutched to his chest. Brendan didn’t dare drop it, risk angering it even more, but he still didn’t understand what Gunnar was planning. The Stone Spider Family were infamous in New Senzannini, people you just did not fuck with. Gunnar and Brendan had been thieves since they were teenagers and never once had they ever had the desire to even attempt to rob anyone even remotely affiliated with this powerful Family. And now Brendan was scaling their security gate with a cursed doll, waiting to be shot dead at any moment for trespassing. He might welcome that, especially with the thing bearing down on hm and Gunnar--and he definitely didn’t want to face any one of the Family members. He’d heard enough horror stories to put him in an early grave, if this damned doll didn’t do it.

But as he landed on unsure feet on the other side of the gate, nothing happened. No gunshot rang out, no security camera swiveled to their position and demanded identification. Gunnar landed next to him and gave him a hard shove toward the bridge but Brendan didn’t feel a sense of relief putting the formidable gate between himself and the creature.

If anything, heading toward what was known as the Stone Spider Haus seemed the greater of two evils and Brendan didn’t know how to feel about that.

The bridge was high over the ocean, connecting the Family island to the mainland. It was not a trafficked road, only utilized by those affiliated with the Family, but given the late hour the bridge had not a single car on it. It was well-lit but the fog rolling off the ocean kept visibility lower than either man would have liked. Brendan hoped Gunnar knew what the fuck he was doing because he himself had no idea what he would do if asked who he was or why he was there. He couldn’t explain why the security cameras hadn’t followed their movements; this Family was infamous for a reason and it wasn’t for lax security. No one trespassed, no one broke-in, no one fucked with this Family and there was a myriad of reasons for that and Brendan had no desire to find out any of those reasons...it was just bothering him that he and Gunnar had gotten in so easily. Were they so over-confident they didn’t care who approached their island? That didn’t seem right. Brendan glanced down at the silent sheet he was holding onto and some part of him wondered if the doll didn’t have something to do with that. He couldn’t hear the creature chasing them, anymore, either. Was the doll happy with this turn of events? Had Gunnar made the right choice?

The bridge was lengthy, likely over a mile and by the time the two men reached the other side they were nearly spent. Lungs burned and legs ached, Brendan’s already injured so badly it nearly gave out when he finally slowed to a stop. He braced himself against the steel barrier that separated the end of the bridge from the drop off to the ocean below, trying to catch his breath. Gunnar had his hands on his knees, drawing in deep gulps of air but he’d noticed the creature didn’t seem to be chasing them, anymore--he didn’t feel out of the woods, yet, but almost as if the doll was waiting to see what they would do. Either that, or he’d been driven insane by the goddamn thing and was now making up thoughts for the inanimate object. He didn’t know and at this point, he didn’t care. He just wanted it gone.

“So...” Brendan managed between puffs of desperate air. “What now?”

Gunnar’s battered face looked haggard under the two lights that illuminated the edge of the bridge. Before them, the bridge bled into a single, lone road that wound into a forest so dense neither man could see anything between the trees. It was as if there were black sheets draped between the huge trunks and the wind that whipped through them seemed kissed by the ocean and felt like icicles in their lungs. No matter what was chasing them, neither man wanted to set one single, solitary foot into those woods.

“We’re gonna bury it.”

Brendan lifted his head in confusion. “Bury it?”

“Yep.” Gunnar reluctantly reached for the sheet and Brendan hurriedly handed the doll to him. He would never, for as long as he lived, forget the heavy, dead weight of the thing in his hands.

“...Will that work?” Brendan couldn’t even be ashamed of the hope in his voice. He wanted that thing out of his life.

“Dunno,” Gunnar stepped off the bridge, a few more steps off the road, to the base of one particularly large tree. “But this ain’t our land, and maybe if we bury it here it’ll latch onto them instead.”

Brendan hesitated. “That don’t seem right, Gun.”

“What, like all the shit we’ve done our whole lives has been? Don’t grow a fuckin’ conscience on me now, not when we got a chance to get rid of this cursed piece of shit.” Gunnar all but spat from the side of his mouth, dropping down to his knees at the base of the tree. He dug at the soft earth, found the soil rich and yielding as it settled beneath his fingernails. He didn’t know if this would work, but he thought he remembered some shit from his church-going youth, something about planting evil like a seed and letting it sprout where it lay. Maybe this thing would take a liking to this Family, find some tastier prey to fuck with than two low-life thieves who’d made the biggest mistake of their lives.

Brendan moved a little closer to Gunnar, glancing around nervously. The creature might not be chasing them anymore but he felt eyes on him all the same. They shouldn’t be here, doing this, and they both knew it.

“Maybe...” Brendan faltered, trying to find a way to make himself feel better. “Maybe they’ll be able to handle it?”

“If anyone can, they can,” Gunnar muttered.

The doll, still wrapped in it’s sheet, was dropped in the shallow grave and hurriedly covered, buried like a horrible secret at the base of a tree that could never tell a soul. Gunnar straightened up, brushing the dirt off his hands with finality. He didn’t feel great about it, but thieves aren’t known for their honor. Better someone else than him, as far as he was concerned.

“Do we just...go?” Brendan asked.

“And hope it don’t try to follow.” Gunnar replied, turning away from his dirty deed with the slumped shoulders of a defeated man. Brendan fell into step beside him, the men moving back onto the bridge with ever intention of quietly slinking home with their tail between their legs--

Thump, thump.

But that dead, beating pulse resonating from the buried doll sent them sprinting away into the fog, to the creature still waiting for them at the gate.

The doll was done with them. It had found a new Haus to call home.

- x -

“If you say let’s split up, I swear to god.”

“...Well I wasn’t wasn’t going to say that.”

There’s something to be said about a “disappointed Mom tone”. Helen Brigham usually hears Monica tell Dot she has it, but Monica had it too, and it was truly to the delight of everyone except the one she’s disappointed in, to hear it. The loving amusement in the Shadow Reaver’s green eyes was uncharacteristic and would surprise anyone who knew her, but given the person she was looking at, should be self-explanatory. Seated in her home office, behind her hand-carved desk (made from wood blessed centuries ago), Helen was hard at work going through the field reports handed in by Beauregard Frenzy, her Junior Detective for The Society. He’d had a busy week, what with the seasons changing and the barrier between dimensions waning and all. Helen preferred to read his reports personally, and if asked she stated feeling responsible for the young man--but the truth was she had a soft spot for him and that had everything to do with Monica.

The beautiful young woman in question was seated in a comfy, plush panda bean bag chair, surrounded by snacks, while Beau sat cross-legged beside her in his own wolf-faced bean bag. The two were playing a co-op video game, survival horror in nature, and it amused Helen to no end the decisions that Beau made (or attempted to make) in-game. It was partly so amusing because Monica was having none of it.

“Why the hell would we split up?! I know you’ve seen horror movies, Beau. We all watch them all the time.”

“Because this isn’t a horror movie,” Beau reasoned, holding up one finger to accentuate his point. “It’s a horror game.”

Monica stared at him.

“...So the...logic is...different.” Beau finished, a lot weaker than when he started.

“We’re not splitting up.” Monica declared definitively as she turned back to the screen.

“I concur.” Helen chimed in, her accented voice softer than usual as it was whenever she spoke to Monica. The young woman smiled, a little nervously perhaps, but all that did was warm Helen’s heart. The Reaver turned back to the current report she was reading, perusing a few lines.

“Ms. Helen,” Beau called over his shoulder, eyes never leaving the screen. “Have you gotten to the part where I shot the Bigfoot in his big butt?”

“...No, I haven’t.”

“...Oh, okay.” A pause. “Because I shot a Bigfoot in his big butt.”

Helen, by the grace of a nameless god, was able to keep her poker face firmly in place. “You don’t have a firearm, Beau, what did you shoot it with?”

“Jax’s slingshot.” Beau sounded incredibly proud of himself. “And some of Usopp’s stinkbombs that I think I actually got from Wade. Who I’m pretty sure he said were just his burrito farts but--”

Helen downed the contents of her wine glass in two gulps before speaking. “No off-regulation weaponry, Beau, and for god’s sake do not use anything Wade Wilson gives you.”

“Monica does,” Beau said by way of defense.

Monica had finally stopped laughing enough to turn to him. “Don’t tattle!”

“What?! She’s not Diesel, she’s not gonna take them away!”

“Take what away?”

Beau and Monica both froze as if realizing too late that too much had been said.

“D-Don’t you need more wine?” Monica turned, gesturing toward one of the Haus servants standing obediently nearby. “She needs more wine!”

Helen didn’t take her eyes off Monica as the servant rushed to fill her wine glass. But Beau was right, Helen wasn’t Angelo, and she let Monica get away with anything and everything, freely and happily, because that little girl was the source of Helen’s smile. She was an angel and could do no wrong, and so the Reaver turned back to the report, now dreading getting to the “Bigfoot’s big butt” part.

The start of any Holiday season was always cause for celebration amongst the Haus and October was no different--it was the beginning of Halloween and the hallways and rooms had been decorated accordingly, with the Staff working for the past week to ensure October 1st greeted each member of the infamous Stone Spider Family with cobwebs, hanging spiders, bats and ghosties and even the Haus menu items reflected the time of year, from Frankenstein Franks for lunch or Dracula’s Devil Food Cake for dessert--Helen wasn’t sure which Dracula that particular dish was named after but she figured, ask any one of them and they’ll likely claim it. That was the overall feel of the Haus; it was a Family, the Family, infamous and known to all of New Senzannini and while Helen had never had much use for family prior to the merging that brought literal thousands of people together, she found she wouldn’t know what to do without it, now. It was a sentiment shared by every other member that lived in this happy halls, and the reason? The reason was currently kicking quite a bit of zombie ass on screens broadcasted throughout the Haus.

Monica was, rightfully so, the center of the Family. She often found herself too shy to really think too hard on that, and perhaps other days found her mood lacking and allowed the thought to slip to the back of her mind--but all she needed to do was look around and she’d be reminded just how much she was loved. It was in the way the Family supported her, took care of her, loved and adored her and desired to be apart of every single aspect of her life. Case in point? The right side of the screen she was playing on had a running chat with the Family all chiming in with words of praise and encouragement for Monica as they watched her play her game. That was her life, day in and day out, and Helen was among the countless others who took up protective vigilance to make sure her world was always happy and safe--

Thump, thump.

Helen felt her pulse still, her entire body stiffening like a predator who just noticed another in it’s territory. Centuries of life lived knowing danger was just around each and every corner meant Helen was always hyper-aware of her surroundings and even at home, at the Haus, she never let her guard down. It was this vigilance that allowed her to hear that dead, hollow beating like a dying heart, that insidiously crept into the walls of the Haus. Monica and Beau missed the sound, so entrenched in their video game and conversation, and Helen was grateful for that. The sound reminded her of the wet splatter that breakable bodies make when they connect with solid concrete from a 100 foot drop. It reminded her of the last gurgles of a drowning victim, the desperate fight for air when only water is filling the lungs and mouth.

It was the sound of imminent death and it chilled her to her bones.

Helen remained still as a statue, her entire body attuned to the surrounding environment as she listened for the sound, again. What the bloody hell was that? As much as she didn’t want to hear it again she desperately needed to, to place the sound and the feeling of horrible dread creeping up her spine like frostbite. But only silence greeted her, the whisper and whip of autumn wind and the trees dancing in the October night air, shaking their leaves loose in preparation for snow. Around her, the fireplace was aglow with warmth and the wine in her belly met the heat evenly. Monica and Beau were laughing, enjoying the entertainment on screen and the Haus itself was alive with it’s usual activities. The world kept spinning, seeking to put her at ease but she’d heard something. Something that told her their world was no longer happy and safe.

“Ms. Helen, did you get to the part yet?” Beau, childlike exuberance on full display, couldn’t help but ask again. But when silence met his excitement, he turned and the smile dropped off his face immediately, replaced with uneasy concern. “Ms. Helen?”

Monica turned when Beau did, the two watching as Helen stared, still and silent, out the window. She didn’t seem to hear them, and Monica was surprised to hear that Helen’s heart wasn’t beating. Her entire body had gone completely stone still and Monica, gifted Supernatural that she was, could tell Helen was poised, waiting for something. Listening...but for what?

Knock, knock.

“Ms. Helen?” Thomas Grady, long-time partner and Head Detective at The Society, was all concern as he politely knocked and then let himself in to the spacious office. He spared Monica and Beau a smile that was meant to reassure, but Monica caught the uneasiness in his ocean blue eyes. The Detective stepped fully into the office, shutting the door before clearing his throat. He didn’t want to bring attention to an unsettling prospect, especially in front of Monica, but felt he had no choice--especially since Helen was now looking at him expectantly. “...Did you...happen to feel that disturbance a few minutes ago?”

Monica and Beau exchanged a glance. “Disturbance?” Monica asked, looking between Thomas and Helen. “What happened? I didn’t feel anything.”

Helen looked from Thomas to Monica with an expression the young vampire had a hard time reading. She seemed...relieved, but concerned at the same time. The Reaver was breathing again, her heart once again beating steadily, strongly, but she took a moment to consider her words before she moved to speak--

Only to be interrupted by an automated voice overhead. It was JARVIS, and he sounded concerned.

“Ms. Helen, I beg pardon for the interruption but I’ve received several reports from members of the Haus who have heard or felt something peculiar in the last few minutes. I thought it pertinent to bring it to your attention. Would you like to see the recordings?”

Helen glanced down at Monica and Beau momentarily, as if weighing the pros and cons of having them present for these unsettling recordings of that horrible noise she’d heard, but Beau was training to handle these types of scenarios and shielding Monica wouldn’t necessarily protect her. Still, she held out her hand to the younger woman, and was relieved when Monica stood and came over. Helen gingerly took Monica’s hand, guiding the shorter woman onto her lap, where she could provide a safe, protective presence for what was sure to be an ugly reveal. Anything bad happening on Haus property was never, ever a good sign and the Reaver was not pleased with this turn of events. Not pleased at all.

“Go ahead.” Helen finally gave the all-clear and JARVIS’s overlay took command of both Helen’s computer screen and the game screen Monica and Beau had be utilizing, allowing Helen and Monica to watch on the computer while Beau and Thomas watched the television.

The first recording was the Patriarchs, Angelino and Atamu, who were seated in their den with several other members of the Council of Elders. The group were sharing drinks and stories, enjoying one another’s company, laughs and loud conversations abound until something unseen and unheard happened--it seemed Atamu heard it while Angelino felt it, as the werelion’s dreaded head snapped toward an unheard sound, while the vampire placed a single large hand on his chest as if gripped by some unknown emotion that was openly hurting his heart.

The second recording was of Cavon and Ewan, sharing drinks in Ewan’s “shed”. Ewan was sprawled on the ground while Cavon was half on the couch, half-off, the two fully relaxed until the same unheard and unseen thing happened--then Cavon was on his feet, ready to fight but with no target to be seen, while Ewan had his hands over his ears as if the sound was over-amplified by his blood alcohol content.

The third recording was of Stephen Strange, who was in the process of flipping through one of his magic tomes when the sound reached him. It was subtle, but very telling, in the way he froze and then slowly, slowly turned to look out the window at something the camera couldn’t pick up.

The fourth recording was of the Fancy Club, but not everyone in the room seemed to be aware of the unheard, unseen disturbance. Zaos noticed, his long ears wiggling, bending at the tips as his entire body went rigid, tea cup poised in it’s saucer as the sound washed over him, through him, like a wave of nausea. But Savon, who was in the middle of talking to Renee, hadn’t seemed affected by whatever happened, and could be heard asking, “Zaos? What, what is it?”

The fifth recording showed one of the playrooms in the Nursery, or more specifically, Alma and Alessa, who were having a tea party. The unseen sound seemed to freeze both little girls in their tracks and as Monica watched, their teacups were rattling in their saucers. Whatever the sound was, it was so loud, so physically present, it was shaking inanimate objects--but a little ways away, Little Walter was napping undisturbed, snuggled in his blanket, unaware of the sound.

The sixth recording was down in the Haus Labs, where most of the “Science Bros” were currently working. Bruce Banner was standing at a whiteboard with William Birkin, the two computing some hellacious looking equation together when the sound seemed to hit them both the exact same way--they jumped, shrinking back as if physically attacked by something coming from the same direction...but of course, there was nothing there.

The seventh recording was from the adjacent lab, where loud rock music was blaring while Tony Stark and Franky were working side by side on what could only be described as a Mecha Suit--though for who still remained to be seen. Monica somehow doubted either of them would be able to hear anything over the music but what startled her was the music went dead. One moment it was playing and then it was just dead silence and it was in that moment that Tony’s reactor seemed to flare to life as if his pulse spiked, the man yanking his goggles off his eyes to look around the room as if for an assailant. Franky’s massive arms were raised, guns cocked as the sound finished rumbling up his spine like an earthquake.

But of course, there was nothing there.

The eighth recording was of one of the training rooms, where a lot of the younger superheroes could be seen training. A combination of mutants, spiderlings, robins, and super-babies combined were sparring, practicing, but the same strange phenomenon occurred--some of them reacted, like Doreen Green shrieking and putting her hands over her furry ears or Jason Todd very loudly asking “What the fuck?!” as he yanked his distinctive red hood off. Miles Morales was perched in an intricate web that was shaking but he couldn’t seem to tell why, while Jon Kent nearly fell out of the air where he’d been hovering nearby, hands flying to his ears to block out a sound that none of the recordings had picked up.

“I’ve many more similar recordings, Ms. Helen, from many different areas of the Haus. But none of the recordings have picked up on what so many are obviously hearing or feeling. I’m afraid I’m at a loss.”

Thomas turned from the screen to look at Helen. “Did you hear it? Or feel it?”

“Both.” Helen replied.

“I felt it.” Thomas supplied without Helen having to ask, knowing she wanted to know. He patted his chest, his other arm supporting the move. “And it was...awful.”

“I don’t understand,” Beau stood from his seat, looking around the office. “What was it? Why didn’t Monica or I hear it? Feel it?”

“You were distracted,” Helen ventured carefully. “I believe it didn’t necessarily want to be felt or heard.”

“What didn’t?” Monica asked quietly, her tone prompting Helen to rub her back in a gesture designed to comfort.

“I’m not certain yet, dear. It could...perhaps only have been a passing disturbance.” But Helen didn’t believe it; she was a realist, not an optimist. The words weren’t meant to be hollow but rather to provide Monica an alternative to much bleaker possibilities--that something wicked this way comes.

The office door opened a moment later and in strode the Patriarchs, their faces matching and grim. Atamu immediately crossed the expanse of the office to scoop Monica up--whether for himself or her, neither could truly be certain. The male simply needed to hold her, to reassure himself that she was fine and his protective instincts were absolutely in over-drive. He’d heard something and though he didn’t know what it was, he knew what it sounded like and it was not a sound meant to set anyone at ease. Helen didn’t protest, though her long fingers lingered down Monica’s back before Atamu moved away, his little one held in a vise-like grip to his strong chest.

“What was that?” Atamu asked, deep voice a rumbling growl. The werelion was close to shifting, agitated by the disturbance he couldn’t put a name to. His strong fingers were stroking through Monica’s hair in a gesture meant to comfort--himself or her, again, was left undetermined.

“I’m afraid I don’t know, not yet.” Helen moved to rise from her desk. “But, I will be ordering a sweep of the Haus and it’s grounds for any clues as to what was heard, or felt.”

It went unsaid that on such a huge property, that was going to take time.

“For now,” Helen offered by way of reassurance, “staying vigilant is going to be our best defense should this turn into something.”

“Though we hope it won’t,” Thomas couldn’t help but add. Ever the optimist, he found Helen’s abrupt, realistic plans too jarring when situations were bleak or uncertain. He even turned to give Monica a handsome smile, wanting her to know that no matter what, everything would be okay.

Helen, for once, didn’t chide him or even send him a withering glare of censure. Typically she found such optimistic musings like adding flowers to a grave. What was the purpose? But with Monica here and so much uncertainty in the air, for once she allowed the flowers without complaint. It was the way of families, she’s learned, to take care of one another in times of uncertainty and crisis. Love and optimism have their place in families, even if she isn’t the one to provide such comforts.

Perhaps, if she were to be proven right about what she felt, that familial bond would be just what the Haus will need in the coming month.

Beau seemed to pick up on that, looking around the office with a smile of reassurance. “Yeah! Yeah, I’m sure it was nothing, we’ll be fine--”

It was a nice sentiment, but it seemed a little deliberate that in that moment, every light in the Haus burst, plunging the Family into collective, oppressive darkness.

Day One, End.

[louthegreatfurrry]

The Same Eyes, Pt2

Ursula can’t sleep.

Flotsam and Jetsam aren’t there, and she’s alone, and she’s cold, and she’s shivering.

She’s thinking of Ariel. Of Athena, of Triton, of Nico. Of the blood on her hands that will never be fully washed away. Of the way her heart still beats, sometimes, in the lonely hours of the day – how it beats after something she will never again have.

Another shiver tears through her. She closes her eyes and presses the heels of her hands against them, grimacing into the darkness. It has been years – she’s supposed to be strong, she’s supposed to be the Sea Witch, she isn’t supposed to crack apart and be weak and be weak and be weak –

She cries for some time. She doesn’t try to control it, knows it will stop by itself.

A shiver, a muffled sob, and she inhales sharply, deeply, holding her breath until her chest stops heaving.

A whispered incantation, the smallest tug on her magic, and she lets herself fade into sleep.

When she wakes, Flotsam and Jetsam are curled up on her chest.

*

She has a few libraries. There are of course the public ones, in her greeting and working room, but her caves consist of more than that. Beyond the first chambers are long and hidden hallways and corridors, leading to her bedroom, to her stores, to her altar, to the lounge –

and to her past.

There are books in every single room. General in her sleeping chambers, lists upon lists of correspondences and dangers and what’s and how’s and why’s in her stores, worshipping by the altar, stories in the longue – and in the final, most hidden room of them all, is a collection of her very first notebooks.

This is where she finds herself the next day, fingers dancing and trailing over leather-bound books that haven’t been used in years. There are no symbols on them. No timestamps or markings to show when they were written. And now, several years later, she finds that she cannot remember why that is.

She pulls out one at random. It’s a mess – no system, no numbers, no index, nothing to make sure she could later make sense of what was going on. The pages are littered in scribbles and doodles and sketches, lists of herbs intermingling with incantations and retellings of her day. There is a flower, and here is a shell, and there is a warning reminder for what happens when one mixes two types of coral.

She scoffs, somewhat fondly, at her younger self. Careless mixing of corals is a beginner’s mistake. By now the warning riddle she’d made rings easily in mind whenever she needs it.

Flipping to the first page the scoff becomes a small smile. The timestamp in the top left corner dates her to be no older than nineteen. The beginning of her career – she probably hadn’t been in her teacher’s care for more than a few months. Beneath the time stamp…

the smile turns pained.

Her name shines out at her, written with a certainty she only finds in spells nowadays. Beneath it, in the same sure letters – Apprentice Sea Witch.

Ursula closes the book quietly.

There had been a time she’d been proud of her title. There had been a time it was worth it.

There had been a time she was loved.

She stuffs the book back into the shelf and drifts further, pulling out another one. It’s a fair bit older, it seems – thicker, more used but better taken care of.

The timestamp says she’s twenty-two.

The book has an index, but poorly executed, and there aren’t numbers on every page – but at least there’s only one topic on each page, this time. She chuckles. Sometimes she still struggles to do that in her personal notebooks, so she supposes she can’t fault her younger self.

As she’s about to close the book a lone paper slips out between the pages. Slowly it drifts to the floor.

Ursula blinks. She puts down the book, then bends, picking up the paper –

Her heart stills. Her ribs tighten around her lungs she takes a step backward, dropping the page as though bitten.

She had been a formidable artist – still is, though she never draws anything but herbs.

Athena beams up at her from the floor, forever captured in a sketch, hair and lips red, eyes a piercing green that some part of her still complains isn’t quite right.

“Ursula?”

She jumps, spins around, and comes face to face with a worried Flotsam.

Of course. Of course. They are tied to her by magic, can sense whenever she has problems –

“Flotsam,” she says, and her voice does not shake, it does not.

Flotsam’s gaze drifts, lands on the drawing on the floor, and the painful jerk of their head speaks volumes. They say nothing, only swims over, curling and twisting around her torso – once, twice, then settling around her shoulders.

They say nothing. There is nothing that can be said.

Ursula stares at empty space before her. Then, with one trembling hand, she reaches up to brush her fingers over Flotsam’s scales. She closes her eyes. Breathes. Breathes.

“Shall I tell Ariel to wait?” Flotsam asks, their voice low, and close, and warm.

“Ariel?” Ursula repeats, snatching her hand back and trying to look at their face. “Is she here? Again?”

“Aye.” Worried. Uncertain.

She makes for the door, leaving the drawing and her beating heart behind. “No, no – are you mad? Show her in.”

“Are you sure?” Flotsam asks, tightening around her shoulders before sliding away.

Ursula scoffs, rolling her eyes as she goes through the long and crooked hallways. “When have I ever not been sure?”

The heavy silence that follows is more than enough answer, and Ursula shoots Flotsam a dirty look.

Jetsam is waiting with Ariel in the working room, swimming in lazy circles around her. They look pleased with themselves, a rumbling hissing sound echoing through the water. Ariel looks a bit worried, but a lot more exasperated, and most of all resigned to her fate.

“Jetsam,” Ursula says, letting a slow smile onto her face. She is pleased with them, and would have showered them in praise if her guest had been any other than Ariel. But it is Ariel, and so there is a hint of exasperation in her voice, and Jetsam slowly untangles from Ariel to bump into Flotsam. The two eels cackle quietly to each other, swimming in a practiced pattern as they disappear out of the room.

Ariel draws a deep breath, pulling a hand through her hair. “Bless you,” she says. “He was – ”

“They,” Ursula interrupts, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. “None of them are he’s.”

Ariel blinks at her, hand frozen in her hair.

Ursula glares back.

And Ariel bursts into a wide beam. “Sorry,” she says, but there’s joy in her voice. “I didn’t know – but now I do, and it won’t happen again. Did you know, my sibling Arista, they’re the same way?”

Ursula deflates like a pufferfish. “I – no,” she says. Thank you for telling me, she thinks, but she doesn’t say it, for it’s not Athena before her, it’s Ariel.

Ariel shakes her head. “I, uh – I was wondering if I could… see him? Again?”

“Certainly,” Ursula says. She raises an eyebrow, crosses her arms, and cocks a hip. “But don’t you have royal duties to tend to? Doesn’t Triton care if you disappear for a few hours each day?”

Ariel blushes. Poking her index fingers together she looks away, biting her lip. “I, uhm… might have… bribed Sebastian a bit…”

Ursula raises an eyebrow as she turns for her cauldron. “And who might that be?” she asks, pulling out the cauldron and snapping out a tentacle for the bottle of dried seaweed.

“Dad set him to spy on me,” Ariel says. Ursula can’t see her, but she doesn’t need vision to hear the flat look on her face. “But it seems that my friendship mattered more to him than his King’s orders.”

Ursula freezes. Spy? She forces herself to ease up, pulling the cauldron out onto the floor. “Wise of him,” she mutters, “to value friendship.” She tugs the cork off the bottle with a little more force than necessary. “Not so wise of your father to assign a spy to his daughter.”

Invasion of privacy. How old is Ariel again? She looks old enough to look after herself – even if she hasn’t reached full maturity, she cannot possibly be more than a year away from it.

“Yes, well,” Ariel says, flustered, toying with her own fingers. She isn’t looking at her. “He – he does it because he loves me.”

Ursula barks a laugh. “Oh, is that what he tells you?” She shakes her head and sprinkles the seaweed in. “He might think so, but it’s not familial love that motivates him, I assure you.” She has never known Triton personally, but Athena had introduced them once. Well – Ursula had been too hurt to really do much more than force a smile, but she’d analyzed him thoroughly. She wouldn’t be surprised if he’d set a spy on Ariel because he didn’t want to lose his child.

The incantation leaves her mouth with ease, and slowly colors drift to the surface of the cauldron.

“How does that work?” Ariel asks, peering curiously at the colors. “I mean… it’s just seaweed…?”

Ursula blinks. “Well,” she says, slowly, weighing her words. She isn’t really supposed to tell someone who isn’t an apprentice, but… it can’t hurt, can it? “It’s mainly my own magic, but the seaweed is a very common plant. It exists everywhere and is supposed to have eyes in all the places it has been.”

“Would I be able to do that?” Ariel asks.

That’s it. Either she’s purposefully trying to be rude, or no one has ever taught her about the do’s and don’ts when it comes to sorcerers.

Ursula takes a bit too long to answer, and Ariel blurts a rushed, “Only, I don’t want to bother you to do this every time I want to – well, see him, I suppose – ”

Ursula smiles humorlessly. “You don’t have a drop of magic in you,” she says. The next words are sharp. “Without magic it won’t work. Without seaweed it won’t work. Without the cauldron it won’t work. It needs every single ingredient to work.”

Ariel looks to the floor. “I’m – I’m sorry,” she says, softly, quietly, and Ursula clenches her teeth at the echo of Athena in her voice. “I didn’t know I shouldn’t…”

Lacking knowledge, then. No need to take offence, then. “No one told you,” she says, gesturing dismissively. “You are not to blame for things you cannot control.”

Ariel stares at her with wide eyes. She says nothing, does nothing, only stares with those wide, shocked eyes.

A beat. “Well,” says Ursula gruffly, stepping back from the cauldron and jabbing her thumb at it. “It’s all yours.”

*

Ursula moves around Ariel with ease. She’s used to her cauldron taking up space in the work room, and it’s never been a problem before. It doesn’t require a lot of work to add Ariel to the mental map.

She updates the list of items she has in her everyday-use stores, restacks some of the most crucial ingredients, takes note of what she needs to have more of, and sends Flotsam and Jetsam off to find some of it for her.

And then there’s nothing more for her to do, except float around mindlessly and moving a bottle here or there. That’s a waste of time, to be quite honest, but Ursula doesn’t want to leave Ariel alone in the work room – nor does she want to just stare at her.

Alright. Conversation it is.

She stands and moves across the room, resting her elbows on the opposite side of the cauldron. Ariel doesn’t speak or glance up, but she shifts, tilting her head slightly. It’s subtle, but it’s there, and it warms Ursula to see that she has her attention so easily.

“What do you see?” she asks, keeping her tone low.

Ariel hesitates. “His castle.” Her tone is low, as well – and still enough to disturb the surface of the lights. They flicker and dance across her face. “Him, more often than not, but…” She frowns down into the cauldron. “Sometimes his friends. His servants. And… sometimes none of them. Sometimes I’m just… floating through the empty halls.” She looks up, then, eyebrows drawn close together. The lights are reflected in her eyes. “What does that mean?”

Ursula chuckles and shakes her head. “Love is not black and white.” Ariel’s confused expression deepens. “This spell lets the watcher see whatever holds their heart,” she attempts to explain. “It matters not whether that love is romantic, platonic, or something else entirely. A parent might see their child, an artist might see their craft.” She shakes her head again. “It means only that you love his world as much as you love him. And that is not a bad thing, my child.”

Ariel hums softly, then looks down into the cauldron once more. “And you?” she asks. She does not look up. “What do you see?”

The lights dance. They swirl and twirl and flow around each other, tugging and twisting – and they form nothing. Ursula smiles grimly. “Nothing,” she says. “Nothing at all.”

*

Ariel comes back the next day. She doesn’t say what she’s there for, and Ursula doesn’t ask. She just gestures for the cauldron with one hand, not looking up from her books. Silence settles again.

Now, she’s fairly sure she’s getting closer to having a solid first-half of the spell. The transformation is truly the trickiest part – the legs, and lungs, and the whole thing with tolerating the pressure for longer times – it’s not as simple as to just give her legs. She needs to change every single cell in her body. But! She’s getting closer! The sacrifices are piling up, however – she’ll need to look into that.

She’s snacking on some shrimps Jetsam had caught for her when Ariel lets out a startled cry. “What!” she yells, straightening but not looking away from the cauldron. “No, no – this can’t be – no!”

Ursula looks over, swallowing the shrimp with a grimace. “What?” she barks. “What is it?”

“They’re marrying him off!” Ariel is gripping the edge of the cauldron so tightly that hadn’t Ursula made it herself, she would have been worried it would crack. “It’s his birthday, they’re forcing a wife on him – ”

Ursula’s blood becomes steel in her veins.

(I’m getting married)

(wedding bells and cheering and Athena singing)

(a dream turned nightmare –)

“No, no,” Ariel whispers. Her eyes are filling with tears. She slumps over, the tension bleeding from her shoulders. “He refuses – they argue – ” Her voice rises to a cheer. “He storms from the room!” And her voice falls once more. “But they’re not giving up so easily – ”

(I wish I could’ve fought it wish I had a choice wish I’d know it was magic wish I wish I wish I –)

The lights flicker and disappear.

Ursula heaves after air. “Sorry!” she blurts, “Sorry, sorry – ” She grapples for her magic, directing it back to the cauldron. The lights flicker back.

Ariel stumbles away, staring at it with wide eyes.

Ursula is stronger than this. She must be, right now, for Ariel’s sake. And with practiced ease she pushes down the beat of her heart, the heave of her chest, cloaking herself in steel-cold determination.

She crosses the room in less than a second, aiming to offer comfort – and stops, hovering uncertainly behind Ariel. It crosses her mind that she hasn’t comforted anyone beyond Flotsam and Jetsam in several years. Hesitantly she puts a hand on Ariel’s shoulder – unsure if that’s okay, if it’s allowed, half-expecting Ariel to flinch away from her –

and Ariel promptly flings herself at her. She throws her arms around her neck, presses her face into Ursula’s shoulder, and shakes. “What do I do?” she whispers hoarsely, worry and sorrow and crass determination in her voice. “What if he marries?”

Thank Poseidon for conversation – keep both of their mouths busy so Ursula doesn’t have to think about what to do with her arms. “Do not lose hope, child,” she says, placing a hand on Ariel’s shoulder. “He’s human – even if he marries, he can still love you. Their hearts are great, they can hold many at a time.”

“I will never love any other!” Ariel cries, shaking her head against Ursula’s shoulder. “Never! I cannot!”

Ursula blows frantically at the water in front of her, lest she gets a mouthful of Ariel’s hair. “I know,” she says, bringing her other arm up as well. “I know, child, I know better than any.” She looks to the roof. “I shall make you human, so you can go to him, but I cannot make him love you.”

Ariel shakes. “He does,” she whispers, so quiet that it barely reaches Ursula’s ears. “He already does, I know he does, I can see it in the way he stares at the sea – ” She chokes on her own words, then muffles a wail. “But what if he marries?”

“Perhaps he won’t,” Ursula tries, desperate for Ariel to calm down, for her sorrow to settle. Out of the corner of her eye she sees Flotsam and Jetsam, the two of them frozen still as statues by the entrance. She gestures frantically for them to leave. “Let’s take it as it comes, child – there might yet be hope.”

Ariel shivers in her arms, then sniffles and nods. She starts to pull back. Ursula lets go instantly, backing off as though burned. “Yes,” Ariel says, sniffling again. “Yes, there – might yet be – ” She swallows, rubbing at her eyes, and turns back to the cauldron “I’m not leaving your side, my prince,” she whispers. The look in her eyes is so tender and soft that Ursula must turn from it. She doesn’t wish to intrude on such a moment.

“I’ll – be right back,” Ursula says, softly, more to herself than Ariel. She goes in the direction Flotsam and Jetsam had disappeared. They’re hovering right around the corner, eyes worried, twisting and turning –

they rush to her once she arrives. Ursula collapses against the wall, pressing her hands against her face. Flotsam and Jetsam swirl around her, close and closer still until their scales brush against her skin.

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

“What plagues you, Witch of the Sea?” Jetsam asks, in the way they so often do, sounding indifferent when the worry really burns into their very bones.

Ursula gives no answer right away, slowly dragging her hands down her face. “Her – ” she tries, but she chokes off, pressing a hand to her chest as she forces herself to calm. “Her Heart might marry another,” she manages, finally, and it’s been years.

Understanding noises from Flotsam as they wriggle closer, pushing in under her arm, around it, settling across her belly. “Do you need a moment?” they ask, twisting their head to stare at Ursula with a piercing, yellow eye.

“We can tell the princess you have business to attend to,” Jetsam adds, twisting the other way so there’s an eel head on either side of her.

It’s a tempting thought – to disappear back to her chambers and stuff her face into the soft surface of her bed, thinking of nothing and doing nothing.

“No.” She hauls herself up once more, Flotsam and Jetsam moving with her as easily as they breathe. “No, she shouldn’t be alone.” She bats them away, bats her emotions away, bottles them up as though they were just another herb to her collection, and goes back into the room.

Ariel doesn’t look up. “They’re arguing again,” she says, worrying her lip. “He doesn’t want to marry, but – there’s something about a promise made to his dad? I’m not sure, they’re talking too fast to read…”

“Don’t blame yourself,” Ursula says, squaring her shoulders as she walks over to her notebooks. It’s more urgent now than ever to finish the spell.

Ariel nods distantly. “Do you… have a spare page?” she asks, after a hesitant pause. “I’d like to take notes…”

If she has a spare page? If she has a spare page? “Poseidon’s halls, child, have you seen my collection?” she asks, half-heartedly attempting a joke even as her voice wobbles dangerously. “You can have a whole notebook if you so wish. I’ll find one.”

*

She has two whole shelves full of empty notebooks. She goes automatically for a basic, nondescript one one –

But a half-buried thought arises, and she stops.

She raises her hand a few shelves and grabs the oldest notebook she has. Leather-bound, died rusty red with powdered coral, the edges trimmed with gold and set with emeralds.

A wedding gift.

Ursula stares at it for a moment.

Then she returns to Ariel.

“Here,” she says, handing the book over. “This belonged to your mother.”

Ariel freezes, then blinks at the book, before looking up at Ursula with wide eyes. “It – did?” There’s suspicion in her voice, but confusion as well, and a terrible, terrible sorrow.

Ursula nods curtly. “And now it’s yours,” she says, flicking a pen over to her.

She grabs the pen, but is still frowning at the cover. Opening the book, the frown fades, a surprised look taking its place. “It’s empty,” she says, leafing through the pages in wonder.

Ursula turns away. “I know.” And her heart aches. “I know.”

*

She disappears completely into her sketching and note-taking. Before she realizes she’s filled up four whole pages of scribbling and sketching. There’s almost nothing remaining of her fingernails, and her hair is a mess. When she looks up it’s gone dark, Jetsam is asleep on top of a shelf, and Flotsam is watching her with tired eyes.

“Time?” she croaks, voice hoarse after too-long of no use.

Flotsam inclines their head. “Nearing the fifth hour.”

Ursula curses under her breath. The sixth hour is the peak of night – if they’re nearing the fifth it’s far too late to be up. She turns to Ariel, ready to tell her it’s late, but the words die on her tongue when she sees her.

The poor girl has fallen asleep on top of the cauldron, arm draped across the edge and cheek pressed against it. The notebook has fallen to the floor, half the page filled with neat scribbles and quite a few question marks.

She looks so peaceful where she lies – first now does Ursula see the bruises beneath her eyes. But she can’t keep sleeping there – her father will worry, and if he worries, he’ll come looking, and if he finds Ariel here –

She swallows.

“Ariel.” Ursula puts a hand on Ariel’s shoulder to stir her. “Ariel, you have to go.”

A muttered complaint, but then she raises her head, blinking sleepily at the room. “Wh…?”

“You fell asleep,” Ursula says, trying hard not to sound amused. “Apologies. I forgot the time. We’re nearing the fifth hour.”

She’s awake before the last word leaves Ursula’s mouth, sitting straight as a stick. “Dad!” she cries. “Oh, no!” She shoots up, frantically pulling at her hair to get it out of her face. “Oh, he’ll skin me! Ah – here, the book – ”

“Take it,” Ursula says, pushing the book back at her. “Go, now, before your father comes to tear my home apart.”

Ariel doesn’t even complain, only grasps after the book and stuffs it into her sachet. Then she halts, casting a glance to the cauldron, then to Ursula, and finally at the exit.

“Go,” Ursula says, lazily waving a hand at the door. “He’ll survive the night.”

“Thank you!” Ariel blurts, and then she’s gone.

Ursula stares at the spot she’d occupied and finds that she cannot remember the last time she was thanked.

[talesofmundanemagic]

Gertie gets her license

Gertie looked up at the entrance to the Skyline stadium. Normally, when she was in the sports arena of the magical city above the clouds, it was to see a game of basketball with virtually no limits on magic, or a gladiator battle (with safety spells implemented and a healer present), or a dragon presentation.

This time, all the bleachers had been pushed back into the walls, and the floor was lined with little sound-proof cubicles. Inside each was a mini kitchen set up via magic, and a proctor waiting for their examinee.

It was the day of the Enchantment Apprenticeship License Exam.

The exam was an international event, spanning across more than seventy locations throughout the twenty countries that recognized the exam as a fitting qualification for an apprenticeship. All over the world, hopefuls were taking the test that Gertie was about to embark on.

Gertie checked herself in for the afternoon test block she had signed up for. It was right after the lunch break in the test schedule - there was no way she was risking the license she’d been working towards for the last two years on a cranky proctor who was daydreaming of macaroni and cheese.

The man at the sign-in table took her cellphone and backpack to be locked away and gave her her assigned cubicle number. Gertie thanked him, took a deep breath, and descended the stairs to find her testing spot.

She had stored plenty of power in her keychain accessories, practiced her planned enchantment hundreds of times, and wore her lucky cloche hat. It wasn’t magical - that wasn’t allowed in exams - but Gertie always did well on tests when she wore it. She was ready, she told herself. She would be fine.

“Miss Mallon?” asked the woman standing in her assigned cubicle with a clipboard.

Gertie nodded.

“I’m going to scan you for magical objects.” She held up a wand to do so.

“I have my keychains, for power, since I’m not a witch,” Gertie said, pulling them out for the proctor to see. She had written this on her application, so it wasn’t a surprise.

“Set them down there.” The proctor nodded to the table where a whole slew of potion ingredients sat.

Gertie did so.

The proctor took her wand and did a quick scan from the floor, over Gertie’s left shoulder, head, right shoulder, and back to the ground.

She then waved the wand over Gertie’s keychains, testing them for any enchantments as well.

“Looks good. Let’s get started.”

Gertie picked up her keychains again and put them back into her pocket.

Her proctor read from a clipboard. “Your self-selected enchantment is the Floating Bag. We have provided you with everything you will need. You have an hour and a half to complete your enchantment. Begin.”

Gertie went straight to the stack of equipment in the corner. She chose a cast iron cauldron that was the same size she’d practiced with in her dorm room. She put it on the stove and cranked the heat to medium.

A bottle of cloud extract was sitting, tall and with a no-drip spout, on the back corner of the table laden with ingredients. Gertie picked it up and coated the bottom of her cauldron with the wispy white gel. Next, she measured out the moonflower pollen, according to the recipe she had memorized, and put it in the extract to sizzle.

While that was going, she started chopping, skinning, and grinding everything she needed. Gertie had found the electric mixer and was whipping up cream from winged cows when disaster struck.

The pollen in the cauldron started popping.

Gertie dropped the bowl of whipped cream onto the table and stared at the pollen that was jumping out of the cauldron. What was going on? She put a splatter screen over the top of the cauldron to keep the pollen from escaping, and picked up the jar she had measured from.

She felt her ears roaring as she stared at it blankly.

Moonflower pollen, aged ten years, the label read. Ten years.

She had been practicing with five.

The pollen popped so high the splatter guard jumped before settling back.

She glanced up. The proctor was taking notes, frowning.

Gertie grit her teeth until her head hurt. She could fix this. She didn’t know much about creating new spells, so she wouldn’t be able to change the actual incantation to suit this new recipe. But maybe she could add something that would counteract the effects of the extra aging.

The test had provided her with more ingredients than she needed, to throw her off in case she hadn’t memorized the right recipe. Maybe something they had given her would actually help.

Gertie glanced over the plethora of ingredients. Snake venom, no. Pie crust, what would that even-? Rice? Yes! Plain old rice! A common ingredient in underwater potions, it normally would do the exact opposite of what Gertie’s enchantment needed.

But normally, she would have used the right pollen.

Carefully, after triple-checking the label, Gertie measured out the proper amount of rice to counteract the aging of the pollen and poured it into the pot.

She turned up the heat and added the rest of the ingredients.

Gertie left her potion to boil and turned to chop up the last item - lavender.

After that was done, there was nothing to do but wait. Well, wait and clean up the space. That was what the provided sink was for, after all.

Once the chopping boards, bowls, knives, and peeler were all clean, the timer rang.

The next step was to soak the bag that she was enchanting in the potion.

But before she did that, Gertie sprinkled the lavender into the mix. The aroma of the herb filled the cubicle, chasing away the odd scent of burnt pollen and silkworm saliva. It wasn’t strictly necessary, but Gertie prefered the smell of her enchantments to not render the objects unusable.

Gertie killed the heat on the stove and dropped her bag in.

She stirred it into the potion with a wooden spoon, drawing power from her keychains as she spoke her spell clearly, since the proctor would grade on pronunciation.

The potion glowed a clear and brilliant green. Perfect.

Gertie used the spoon to fish the bag out of the potion.

There was one last step. Gertie took a deep breath. She used this specific spell every morning when she dried her hair after getting out of the shower. There was nothing to be nervous about, and yet her heart beat so rapidly she thought it would stall.

“Dry,” she commanded in the magical language of Gnaang, flicking the bag and sending the potion flying into the sink, coating it green.

Gertie quickly set the nozzle to rinse the basin, and then held out the dry cloth bag for the proctor to inspect.

The proctor looked at her watch.

“Twenty-six minutes early,” she said, taking note. “But you didn’t wait for it to dry naturally-”

“I’ve tried letting it, like the recipe says,” Gertie quickly said. “I can just barely do it under the time limit. But I had to try using the drying spell, just to see, and it works! The bag still works.”

The proctor looked over her glasses at Gertie. “And why does it work?”

Gertie took a deep breath to keep herself from rambling. “Because the spell imbues the power from the potion into the bag itself, in this case,” Gertie said. “If the potion coating the bag was necessary for peak performance, it would have to be air dried.”

“Correct.” The proctor wrote down some notes. “Now, let’s see if it works. I noticed your mistake with the pollen, but the rice was clever. It should have helped.”

The proctor took the bag and said, “Float,” in Gnaang, releasing the bag in midair. It hung there, as if it had been placed on a table.

The proctor took a step to the left and the bag followed. To the right, the same thing. She started walking away, and the bag floated after her.

The proctor nodded thoughtfully, taking down notes. “You still didn’t follow the recipe, I’m afraid,” she said.

Gertie’s heart fell. Surely her final score would be impacted for not following the exact steps in the approved recipe.

“We both normally get a fifteen minute break before the next part of the test. However, that would be at the end of the hour and a half, which there is still twenty minutes of. Would you like to wait a full thirty minutes or...?”

“I don’t think I can wait that long,” Gertie admitted, anxious to get on with the next part of the test.

The proctor smiled. “Fifteen minutes then.”

Gertie found the bathroom. Her hands shook as she washed them.

One down, one to go.

She returned to her cubicle and sipped water until the proctor returned.

“Alright. Your first enchantment you were able to practice. This one, you have not. We’ve given you all new ingredients.” The proctor gestured to the table. There was no over-aged pollen in sight. “Follow the instructions, use your intuition, and you will hopefully be fine. You have one hour. Good luck.”

She handed Gertie a piece of paper.

Glowing Orchid Encased in Glass, was the recipe title. Sure enough, a beautiful purple orchid sat in a pot in the corner of the mini kitchen’s counter.

Not a very creative recipe name, Gertie thought.

Then she glanced down at the three separate sections of the recipe.

“Balls,” Gertie muttered, and grabbed three separate cauldrons from the corner. All three went on the heat.

She only had an hour and a half to make three different potions? It was madness.

Even more ridiculous was that they didn’t give her the whole recipe. They gave her bits and pieces, and she needed to rely on her potion know-how to complete the recipe.

The first thing under the title was Step 1: Make a coolant, with a list of ingredients and their measurements.

Gertie remembered the word coolant. She had spent a lot of her time watching various potions videos online to try to prepare.

Coolants are the easiest potions in the world! an online potion maker had proclaimed. You just put all your ingredients in the pot, put the lid on, and boil it for thirty minutes until everything’s combined. Then you shove it in the fridge to cool it down and it’s ready!

Gertie measured out all of the coolant’s ingredients and threw them in the cauldron on the back burner of the stove and put the lid on. She set a timer for thirty minutes, and let it do its own thing.

Step 2: Combine the following ingredients to make the clear syrup base for the luminance potion.

This was the potion that would make the orchid glow. Gertie racked her brain - potions that emitted light could be tricky. There were lots of variations, but all needed to be done at a precise temperature to determine what color it would be. Since the recipe specified clear, it meant the lowest of the available temperatures.

Just remember the eight eights, she remembered her potions textbook saying on the subject of potion color. Eighty-eight for black, seventy-eight for purple, sixty-eight for blue, fifty-eight green, forty-eight for for yellow, thirty-eight for orange, twenty-eight for red, eighteen for clear.

Gertie took a deep breath and grinned in relief.

She measured tiny crystals of lightning salt into a cup to pour into the final cauldron and an equal amount of starfruit seeds. She added the required teaspoon of moonshade - a sticky golden syrup - and filled the rest of the cauldron with water.

She stirred it diligently, checking on the nearby coolant with eyes only. She had to keep the glowing potion constantly moving, while checking the temperature on a thermometer and adjusting the stove accordingly to keep it at eighteen degrees.

Finally, the potion for the glow started to thicken and form sparking bubbles.

“Yes!” Gertie fist pumped.

Step 3: When the syrup has begun to bubble, let it boil on the stove for fifteen minutes.

Gertie set a timer for fifteen minutes, and sat down for a moment to catch her breath and read ahead in the recipe.

The fourth step was about adding something to the luminance potion, so Gertie skipped over it.

Step 5: Choose the proper incantation to melt the glass.

Choose the proper…?

Gertie turned the recipe sheet over. On the opposite side was a list of spells. At least they were all in Laux, a language she knew. Of course, this was not a coincidence since she had provided the accredited board with a list of her capabilities when applying to take the test.

Gertie took a deep breath and began translating the spells to the best of her ability. Three she ruled out of being a part of this enchantment altogether - they mentioned eggs and things that weren’t on the ingredients table. One she discovered, upon translating, was for when she had finished brewing the luminance potion. She circled that one for later.

There were three that mentioned glass. One was clearly the end of the enchantment, as it meant the equivalent of “Halt.” The two others were trickier. They were very similar, longer spells, both dealing with the glass. One did have the word for “liquid” in it, so she put a star next to it in the hopes that she was right.

Both timers rang that their potions were ready and Gertie re-read step four.

Step 4: Once the syrup’s bubbles have begun to stack, add one fourth teaspoon of star spider venom and let the potion rest for four minutes.

Gertie stared at the instruction. Venoms were pesky things, very reactive. Usually recipes mentioned not moving the pot, putting on a lid, and using a timer to measure exactly the amount of time it needed to sit.

Gertie checked the clock to see how much time she had left. Twenty minutes. Great.

She returned to the luminance potion. It had boiled so much, it looked like an ambitious bubble bath.

“Bubbles stacking on themselves, check,” Gertie said.

She had no choice but to listen to her intuition, even if it was wrong. She added the final ingredient - the venom of a star spider - and clamped the cauldron’s lid down. She set a timer for four minutes exactly and one for three minutes and fifteen seconds to remind her to come back, and turned her attention to the shards of glass she had been provided with. She needed to magically melt them.

Gertie poured them into the last cauldron she had put to heat on the stove. She spoke the enchantment she had chosen over the glass, and watched as they melted instantly.

“Awesome!” Gertie triumphantly slipped on cauldron mitts, took the mix off the stove and set it next to the provided mold for the final sculpture.

The mold itself was a sphere with a flat bottom, so that the eventual decoration could stand upright. It was made of magically imbued silicone, so it was even more resistant to the heat its contents would bring.

Suddenly the smell of smoke filled the air. Gertie stopped and looked over at the stove.

No, Gertie thought. No no no no no.

The coolant.

She had completely forgotten to take it off the stove and put it in the freezer.

Gertie ran to the stove and looked in the pot. It was crusted black. Nothing was salvageable. She put the entire thing into the sink and ran cold water over it, trying to stop the smoke at the very least.

Gertie stared at the running water, trying to figure a way out. What was she going to do? There was no way she could make a whole new potion. It needed time, not only to combine but to cool. She felt like she had been turned to stone, her heart trying to beat out of her chest.

The three minute and fifteen second timer for the luminance potion rang, and Gertie took a deep breath. She wasn’t going down without a fight.

The proctor made a note, but Gertie didn’t have time to think about her opinion.

Step 6: Remove the luminance potion from the heat and cast the proper incantation that will stabilize it for use.

When the four minute timer rang, Gertie pulled the cauldron off the stove, opened the lid, and spoke the spell she’d circled from the list, the one she hoped would render it stable.

The potion started glowing a solid white color, like she had trapped a star in her cauldron.

Gertie let out a deep breath. That was a very good sign.

She assembled the leftovers of her prepared ingredients that she had made into the first coolant potion. There wasn’t enough to make a whole potion, so a third of the original recipe’s portion would have to do.

She stirred the ingredients together on the stove, trying to force everything to melt as quickly as possible in lieu of it boiling together. When it finally became a thin, watery potion, she took it off the heat and poured it into a metal bowl to suck the heat away. She put the bowl into the freezer, and turned back to deal with the rest of the recipe.

“Five minutes,” the proctor said, checking her timer, a nervous edge to her voice.

Gertie balled her hands into fists, digging her nails into her palms. Fine.

She opened the freezer and put her hands on the bowl. She could still feel the heat emanating from the potion.

“Chill,” she said in Laux, feeling the power drain from her keychains and flow through her hands. The temperature in the bowl went down. But it wasn’t cool enough.

“Chill,” she said again, gritting her teeth as she started to feel dizzy from using magic so quickly twice in a row.

Not enough.

“Chill!” she shouted, and the heat vanished from under her hands, nearly numbing them.

She took the bowl out and placed it next to the luminance potion, trying not to lose her balance. The coolant didn’t even slosh, it had thickened so much from the cold.

Gertie pulled over the terracotta pot that the orchid was in. She snipped its stem so that it was short enough to fit inside the mold and, taking a deep breath, dipped the flower into the luminance potion.

As the instructions read, she immediately pulled it out and shoved it into the coolant, hissing as steam flew out from around her hand. Could that be a good thing?

She had to spin the stem around to coat the flower petals completely. Since she’d made only a third of the proper amount, what was left barely covered the bottom of the bowl.

Gertie lifted the orchid free. It glowed with the pure brilliance of a perfectly brewed luminance potion, shifting between the various purples, whites and yellows of the flower that were picked up by the potion.

The proctor smiled and wrote on her clipboard.

Gertie would have danced in place, but she didn’t have time.

She took the glass mixture, still melted and waiting thanks to the spell, and poured a bit of it into the mold, so the orchid would be floating in the middle. She placed the orchid delicately, and managed to pour the rest of the glass in around it. At the last minute, she remembered the final incantation she had singled out - this one mentioning “not wilting”. The heat from the glass seemed to dissipate, leaving the orchid beautifully fresh.

Gertie put down the heavy cauldron and took a moment to pant.

“And halt,” she said in Laux, completing the enchantment.

The glass hardened instantly.

And the proctor’s timer beeped.

Gertie heart caught in her throat. She hadn’t turned out the sculpture. It wasn’t done. She hadn’t finished.

“Take it out of the mold,” the proctor said.

Gertie looked over at her, dumbfounded.

“I’ll mark you off a point for not finishing it in the time. But turn it out. I’m going to grade it.”

Gertie took the quite heavy mold and turned it over. The glass held steady.

She pulled the mold free, peeling it away from the glass. And there it was. Her little “glowing orchid encased in glass.”

It was quite impressive, she had to say. Beautiful even. A good way to end her exam, even if she had failed.

The proctor took a deep breath, as if to calm herself from the excitement of Gertie’s scramble to finish. She hovered around the table, looking at the sculpture from every angle. She pulled a small camera out of her pocket, took a picture of the top of her clipboard and one of the sculpture.

Gertie waited, shifting awkwardly in place. Her head cleared a bit, despite how she had drained herself by spending so much magic.

The proctor checked over her clipboard, wrote some notes, and finally said, “Very good, Miss Mallon. If you just go back to the area you found the sign-in desk, there will also be a sign-out desk. There, they will take your picture and you will receive your license. Your sculpture will be mailed to your registered address in a week’s time. If you have any other questions or concerns-”

“I passed?” Gertie clarified, not believing her ears.

“Yes,” the proctor said. “Of course.”

Gertie thanked her and walked in a daze to the sign-out table. She managed a smile for the photo, and received a printed license within minutes.

Holding it in her hands, reading the words, Apprentice Enchanter, under her name, suddenly made it real.

She whooped, holding the license triumphantly in the air.

Upon receiving her backpack and cell phone, she immediately dialed Bridget. “I did it!” Gertie shouted. She heard different voices cheering from the other side.

“We’re all in your room,” Bridget said, a laugh in her voice. “We have cake and sodas. Get back down here!”

“Awesome!” Gertie said. “I’m on my way!”

She dialed one more number as she headed out of the stadium.

“Demetrius’ Enchanted Hat Emporium, Demetrius speaking,” came a bored voice from the other end.

“D?” Gertie said excitedly.

He paused. “Gertie, tell me you have good news.”

Gertie grinned so hard her face hurt. “I do.”

To her surprise, Demetrius laughed in relief. “I knew you could do it!” he said.

“Thanks,” Gertie said, flattered, but itching to ask a very important question. “So, when can I start as your apprentice? I’ve been looking up different hat enchantments. I was thinking an expandable hat might be a good place to start. I know that top hats are generally the favored model, but to me that just makes it less incredible that you can fit all that stuff in. My choice would definitely be porkpie, or a-”

“Uh, Gertie, I have a customer.”

“I don’t believe you,” Gertie said.

“Just go celebrate. We can talk about all this during your next shift.”

“My last shift stacking boxes,” Gertie shot back.

“Yeah.” The pride was unmistakable in his voice. Demetrius hung up before he could embarrass himself any further.

As Gertie got in the elevator back down to Wespire, her ID was required. Normally, her magical passport filled this purpose.

Not this time.

Gertie dramatically held out her enchanter’s license to the scanner.

Gertrude Mallon, Apprentice Enchanter.