#and like I explain under the cut there's a lot that stacked the deck in my favor to make this look not completely horrifying

[chopshajen]

~ The Trickster Cat ~ Compelling, Enigmatic, Condescending ~

I said a bit ago that I had a Kooza/Cats crossover in mind and even if it was cursed I would draw it anyways, and here it is now, surprisingly uncursed, or at least, surprisingly satisfactory! I'll have to do some dance poses sooner or later but I'm happy with this as a start :3

I tried to keep the design true to both sources of inspiration. Some thoughts on the design under the cut:

There are some elements of the Trickster's design that translate pretty well to stage!Cats costumes, namely the smooth-limb effect of the Trickster's extra-long sleeves and flared pant legs compared with the Cats arm/legwarmers. It's something I really like about the traditional Cats costumes (and a big part of why Cats 2019's designs don't work)* and something I REALLY like about the Trickster's outfits, so it's great for me.

*For further expansion on the subject, @missing-sock-misto has a great breakdown of the Cats costumes here. The relevant part is this:

They help shape the limbs and invoke the feeling of fluff. Human limbs taper, especially at the joints: wrists, elbows, knees, ankles. The arm and leg warmers help cover this, because they’re thick, making them more like cat limbs, which are functionally tubes.

It's one of the first elements I noticed when I first watched the Cats stage show, and when started interrogating myself as to why I liked the designs so much, I realized its importance in "evoking felinity", as azerairis and missing-sock put it. There are a lot of Cats adaptations that, for some godsforsaken reason, get rid of the arm and leg warmers, and it's almost always a mistake. We're trying to make them look like cute cats, not like painted humans.

For the Trickster, why they have long sleeves and flared pant legs may not be as obvious, but they do still serve a visual purpose. They make the Trickster appear that much more ethereal and otherworldly. Everything about them is smooth and continuous - legs flowing into feet, stripes swirling uninterrupted across their body, movement lithe and serpentine - and that makes them seem inhuman, especially when put in contrast with the stick-like, stumbling, uncertain Innocent.

Other more minor elements also translate pretty well. For instance, the Trickster's makeup is already very exaggerated, as is their "hairline" (hat...line?), in a way that doesn't look out of place in Cats. They have stripes on their face, monochrome eyes, and the :3 kitty mouth. The stripes on their body were easy to translate as well. Honestly I didn't have to think over it as much as I expected LOL Except for the wig. Don't ask me how that works. I do think this design is maybe...too simplistic? Like I maybe could've incorporated some of the suit elements of their costume, cuz the Trickster does look kind of odd without their tie. But I wasn't going to give them a collar because pfffftbl lmao could you imagine. Maybe they could have something Skimbleshanks-esque for a top with some formality to it, though I'm not sure putting human clothes on a cat version of an unknowable trickster god person makes sense either LOL

[citrina-posts]

Avatar: Cultural Appreciation or Appropriation?

I love Avatar: the Last Airbender. Obviously I do, because I run a fan blog on it. But make no mistake: it is a show built upon cultural appropriation. And you know what? For the longest time, as an Asian-American kid, I never saw it that way.

There are plenty of reasons why I never realized this as a kid, but I’ve narrowed it down to a few reasons. One is that I was desperate to watch a show with characters that looked like me in it that wasn’t anime (nothing wrong with anime, it’s just not my thing). Another is that I am East Asian (I have Taiwanese and Korean ancestry) and in general, despite being the outward “bad guys”, the East Asian cultural aspects of Avatar are respected far more than South Asian, Middle Eastern, and other influences. A third is that it’s easy to dismiss the negative parts of a show you really like, so I kind of ignored the issue for a while. I’m going to explain my own perspective on these reasons, and why I think we need to have a nuanced discussion about it. This is pretty long, so if you want to keep reading, it’s under the cut.

Obviously, the leadership behind ATLA was mostly white. We all know the co-creators Bryan Konietzko and Michael Dante DiMartino (colloquially known as Bryke) are white. So were most of the other episodic directors and writers, like Aaron Ehasz, Lauren Montgomery, and Joaquim Dos Santos. This does not mean they were unable to treat Asian cultures with respect, and I honestly do believe that they tried their best! But it does mean they have certain blinders, certain perceptions of what is interesting and enjoyable to watch. Avatar was applauded in its time for being based mostly on Asian and Native American cultures, but one has to wonder: how much of that choice was based on actual respect for these people, and how much was based on what they considered to be “interesting”, “quirky”, or “exotic”?

The aesthetic of the show, with its bending styles based on various martial arts forms, written language all in Chinese text, and characters all decked out in the latest Han dynasty fashions, is obviously directly derivative of Asian cultures. Fine. That’s great! They hired real martial artists to copy the bending styles accurately, had an actual Chinese calligrapher do all the lettering, and clearly did their research on what clothing, hair, and makeup looked like. The animation studios were in South Korea, so Korean animators were the ones who did the work. Overall, this is looking more like appreciation for a beautiful culture, and that’s exactly what we want in a rapidly diversifying world of media.

But there’s always going to be some cherry-picking, because it’s inevitable. What’s easy to animate, what appeals to modern American audiences, and what is practical for the world all come to mind as reasons. It’s just that… they kinda lump cultures together weirdly. Song from Book 2 (that girl whose ostrich-horse Zuko steals) wears a hanbok, a traditionally Korean outfit. It’s immediately recognizable as a hanbok, and these dresses are exclusive to Korea. Are we meant to assume that this little corner of the mostly Chinese Earth Kingdom is Korea? Because otherwise, it’s just treated as another little corner of the Earth Kingdom. Korea isn’t part of China. It’s its own country with its own culture, history, and language. Other aspects of Korean culture are ignored, possibly because there wasn’t time for it, but also probably because the creators thought the hanbok was cute and therefore they could just stick it in somewhere. But this is a pretty minor issue in the grand scheme of things (super minor, compared to some other things which I will discuss later on).

It’s not the lack of research that’s the issue. It’s not even the lack of consideration. But any Asian-American can tell you: it’s all too easy for the Asian kids to get lumped together, to become pan-Asian. To become the equivalent of the Earth Kingdom, a mass of Asians without specific borders or national identities. It’s just sort of uncomfortable for someone with that experience to watch a show that does that and then gets praised for being so sensitive about it. I don’t want you to think I’m from China or Vietnam or Japan; not because there’s anything wrong with them, but because I’m not! How would a French person like to be called British? It would really piss them off. Yet this happens all the time to Asian-Americans and we are expected to go along with it. And… we kind of do, because we’ve been taught to.

1. Growing Up Asian-American

I grew up in the early to mid-2000s, the era of High School Musical and Hannah Montana and iCarly, the era of Spongebob and The Amazing World of Gumball and Fairly Odd Parents. So I didn’t really see a ton of Asian characters onscreen in popular shows (not anime) that I could talk about with my white friends at school. One exception I recall was London from Suite Life, who was hardly a role model and was mostly played up for laughs more than actual nuance. Shows for adults weren’t exactly up to par back then either, with characters like the painfully stereotypical Raj from Big Bang Theory being one of the era that comes to mind.

So I was so grateful, so happy, to see characters that looked like me in Avatar when I first watched it. Look! I could dress up as Azula for Halloween and not Mulan for the third time! Nice! I didn’t question it. These were Asian characters who actually looked Asian and did cool stuff like shoot fireballs and throw knives and were allowed to have depth and character development. This was the first reason why I never questioned this cultural appropriation. I was simply happy to get any representation at all. This is not the same for others, though.

2. My Own Biases

Obviously, one can only truly speak for what they experience in their own life. I am East Asian and that is arguably the only culture that is treated with great depth in Avatar.

I don’t speak for South Asians, but I’ve certainly seen many people criticize Guru Pathik, the only character who is explicitly South Asian (and rightly so. He’s a stereotype played up for laughs and the whole thing with chakras is in my opinion one of the biggest plotholes in the show). They’ve also discussed how Avatar: The Last Airbender lifts heavily from Hinduism (with chakras, the word Avatar itself, and the Eye of Shiva used by Combustion Man to blow things up). Others have expressed how they feel the sandbenders, who are portrayed as immoral thieves who deviously kidnap Appa for money, are a direct insult to Middle Eastern and North African cultures. People have noted that it makes no sense that a culture based on Inuit and other Native groups like the Water Tribe would become industrialized as they did in the North & South comics, since these are people that historically (and in modern day!) opposed extreme industrialization. The Air Nomads, based on the Tibetan people, are weirdly homogeneous in their Buddhist-inspired orange robes and hyperspiritual lifestyle. So too have Southeast Asians commented on the Foggy Swamp characters, whose lifestyles are made fun of as being dirty and somehow inferior. The list goes on.

These things, unlike the elaborate and highly researched elements of East Asian culture, were not treated with respect and are therefore cultural appropriation. As a kid, I had the privilege of not noticing these things. Now I do.

White privilege is real, but every person has privileges of some kind, and in this case, I was in the wrong for not realizing that. Yes, I was a kid; but it took a long time for me to see that not everyone’s culture was respected the way mine was. They weren’t considered *aesthetic* enough, and therefore weren’t worth researching and accurately portraying to the creators. It’s easy for a lot of East Asians to argue, “No! I’ve experienced racism! I’m not privileged!” News flash: I’ve experienced racism too. But I’ve also experienced privilege. If white people can take their privilege for granted, so too can other races. Shocking, I know. And I know now how my privilege blinded me to the fact that not everybody felt the same euphoria I did seeing characters that looked like them onscreen. Not if they were a narrow and offensive portrayal of their race. There are enough good-guy Asian characters that Fire Lord Ozai is allowed to be evil; but can you imagine if he was the only one?

3. What It Does Right

This is sounding really down on Avatar, which I don’t want to do. It’s a great show with a lot of fantastic themes that don’t show up a lot in kids’ media. It isn’t superficial or sugarcoating in its portrayal of the impacts of war, imperialism, colonialism, disability, and sexism, just to name a few. There are characters like Katara, a brown girl allowed to get angry but is not defined by it. There are characters like Aang, who is the complete opposite of toxic masculinity. There are characters like Toph, who is widely known as a great example of how to write a disabled character.

But all of these good things sort of masked the issues with the show. It’s easy to sweep an issue under the rug when there’s so many great things to stack on top and keep it down. Alternatively, one little problem in a show seems to make-or-break media for some people. Cancel culture is the most obvious example of this gone too far. Celebrity says one ignorant thing? Boom, cancelled. But… kind of not really, and also, they’re now terrified of saying anything at all because their apologies are mocked and their future decisions are scrutinized. It encourages a closed system of creators writing only what they know for fear of straying too far out of their lane. Avatar does do a lot of great things, and I think it would be silly and immature to say that its cultural appropriation invalidates all of these things. At the same time, this issue is an issue that should be addressed. Criticizing one part of the show doesn’t mean that the other parts of it aren’t good, or that you shouldn’t be a fan.

If Avatar’s cultural appropriation does make you uncomfortable enough to stop watching, go for it. Stop watching. No single show appeals to every single person. At the same time, if you’re a massive fan, take a sec (honestly, if you’ve made it this far, you’ve taken many secs) to check your own privilege, and think about how the blurred line between cultural appreciation (of East Asia) and appropriation (basically everybody else) formed. Is it because we as viewers were also captivated by the aesthetic and overall story, and so forgive the more problematic aspects? Is it because we’ve been conditioned so fully into never expecting rep that when we get it, we cling to it?

I’m no media critic or expert on race, cultural appropriation, or anything of the sort. I’m just an Asian-American teenager who hopes that her own opinion can be put out there into the world, and maybe resonate with someone else. I hope that it’s given you new insight into why Avatar: The Last Airbender is a show with both cultural appropriation and appreciation, and why these things coexist. Thank you for reading!

[adhd-disaster-willie]

you're the one that brings the sun; chapter 1/6

Summary: Alex is prepared for every single variable except, apparently, the one in which his roommate is drop dead gorgeous and Alex is an absolute clusterfuck of a human being who falls for the first pretty boy on he sees on campus.

Willex roommate au! 

Warnings: Swearing

Notes: The title is from the song “I Dare You” by the Regrettes. I’ve actually planned this fic out so here’s to hoping I don’t get burned out halfway through. It might end up having 6 or 7 chapters, 5 is kind of just an estimate.

---

When Alex was 11, his mother proudly plastered his report card to the fridge and exclaimed that one day, her little boy would go to Harvard. His father gripped his shoulder with pride and Alex beamed up at his parents like they’d just told him he had superpowers. 3 years later, he was 14 and teetering on the edge of failure in the majority of his classes. He wasn’t stupid by any means, just preoccupied. He’d started a band with his best friends and that felt like the most important thing in the whole world, and high school was new and scary, so it was easier to not pour all his focus into school. His parents’ smiles faltered but they kept up hope, Alex could tell. 2 years later, he stood shaking and crying outside of the Molina’s garage and suddenly, the concept of going to college begun to feel distant and fake. But he’s 18 now, and somehow, miraculously, gazing at the piles of boxes in the back of Ray’s car and swallowing down a lump in his throat.

It sure isn’t Harvard, but a part of Alex feels giddy at the fact that he’s attending a public college that was relatively easy to get into; oh his parents would be rolling in their proverbial graves. What didn’t make him quite so happy though, was the looming fact that he’d be living with some random person, because for some godforsaken reason, the college wouldn’t allow freshmen to choose their roomates. Some bullshit about meeting new people and socializing.

“Hey, ‘Lex. Dude, you’ll be fine.” Luke shakes his shoulders, before swinging one arm around him and the other around Reggie.

“Says the one who isn’t even going to college,” Alex grumbles, slipping from Luke’s grip and into the front seat of the car.

“Yea cause I don’t need it. Not my fault you’re both nerds,” Luke retorts.

“I’m not a nerd, I just like to have insurance-”

“Yea, back-up plan, safety net, heard it a million times. Reggie’s a nerd though.”

“Old news, dude,” Alex says.

“I am not a nerd!” Reggie protests indignantly.

“Tell that to your 2 years of college credit in math.”

Luke nods in agreement. “Nerd.”

“Math is fun!”

“You’re horrible.” Alex makes a mock gagging noise.

Julie comes bounding out of the house, her arms decked with various baked goods. She tosses herself in the backseat beside Reggie and Luke, looking quite pleased with herself at being able to force Luke to sit in the middle. “Tía was apparently up all night baking,” she explains, passing the sweets up to Alex. “Don’t be surprised if she shows up at your dorm with food every day.”

Alex snorts. “I would not object to that.”

Julie sighs, leaning back in her seat. “You guys are so lucky, I’m tired of high school. Damn September birthday,” Julie grumbles. Her birthday is just after the cut off date, so she would be 18 for the majority of senior year, but is just barely too young to be in the same grade as the boys.

Reggie leans over and pats her arm sympathetically, earning an offended squeak from Luke, who’s only pushed further into the back of the seat.

“Don’t worry!” Alex chirps sarcastically. “You get to spend more time with Luke, since he’ll be squatting in your garage!”

“Oh, joy,” Julie deadpans.

“I am not a squatter!” Luke protests, kicking the back of Alex’s seat.

“No kicking! I’m holding food!”

“Y’know Alex, you’ve been staying in the studio for 2 years, you’re not one to talk!” Luke argues.

“I have a job.”

“A stupid job.”

“A stupid job that gets you free coffee.”

Reggie nodds to that, chewing on a cookie. “Can’t risk losing your coffee privileges.”

Julie groans loudly and stuck her head out the window. “DAAAAD! Let’s goooo!” She cries.

“Wow, I didn’t know you wanted to get rid of me so badly,” Alex says, clutching his chest dramatically.

“Oh shut up Lexi, I just wanna meet your’s and Reggie’s new best friends!” Julie says, laughing.

“I’m not gonna be best friends with my roommate.”

“Yea, Alex forgot how to do that!”

“Luke I will smother you in your sleep!”

At this, Ray approaches the car with a raised eyebrow. “No one’s planning a murder, I hope?” He asks, chuckling as he slides into the drivers seat.

“No sir!” Reggie replies, grinning.

“Not yet,” Alex mumbles under his breath.

“Alright boys, who’s ready for college!” Ray says, starting the car.

“I’m gonna be sick.”

---

“And that’s the last of it!” Ray claps a hand over Alex’s shoulder and smiles encouragingly.

Alex nods tensely, gripping the strap of his fannypack tighter.

The dorm’s probably as good as he’s gonna get. One reasonably sized bedroom complete with two horribly uncomfortable beds, a kitchen with a fridge that was in no way large enough to fit even a weeks worth of meals, a tiny living room that would probably fit a couch and a TV at the most, and a bathroom that smelled suspiciously of mustard. Really it isn’t terrible, but Alex has a habit of noticing every little detail, especially the ones that could be a problem at some point. His roommate hasn’t arrived yet, so he’s standing amongst his various boxes, anxiety pulsing in his chest.

Julie grips his hand tightly and smiles, tears pricking the edges of her eyes. “Hey, Alex, you’re gonna be okay.” She squeezes his hand briefly.

Alex nods, exhaling shakily. “Yea, yea I know. It’s just…”

“A change, I know. But this is a good change. And-” she hauls Reggie and Luke over to them. “-we’re all here if you need to call someone and talk. And dad, and Tía, and I bet your roommate will be super cool.”

“Or a serial killer.”

“Just pray he’s not a football player,” Reggie stage-whispers, shuddering.

“God, don’t even suggest that!” Alex whines.

Encouragements and teary hugs are passed along, as well as a promise to meet at the Olive Garden nearby for dinner in a few hours, and then Alex’s posse is off to get Reggie settled, and Alex is left alone in the dorm. Alright.

Alex takes a deep breath, steeling himself, before beginning to wander the dorm. He’s anxious to start unpacking without his roommate and risk doing something that they wouldn’t like. Even choosing a bed feels wrong, he really doesn’t want to get off on the wrong foot with this person. But leaving the dorm meant people everywhere so that was a definite no. He sighs, lowering himself to the wooden floor and pulling out his phone.

“Yea… uh huh. Yes Caleb, I got here fine. No the Uber driver did not try and kidnap me. The boxes- the boxes are not too heavy. Okay. Okay. Yea, bye. Mhm.”

Alex looks up hesitantly upon hearing the voice nearing his dorm. The person standing in the doorway is well… less of a person and more of a large stack of boxes threatening to fall over any second. “Hello?” Alex stands up and makes his way to the boy stood in the entrance.

Said boy pokes his head out from behind his boxes and grins crookedly. “Hi, uh, I’m Willie!” And well, Alex is a goner. He swallows thickly, breath catching in the back of his throat. Willie attempts to adjust the boxes but ultimately fails, sending them tumbling to the ground amongst several muttered curses. “Well… nothing fragile in there,” he falters slightly. “I think.”

“Um…”

“Right! Sorry, uh.” Willie holds his hand out and Alex shakes it tentatively.

“Alex.”

“Alex, cool.” Willie smiles again, his dark eyes twinkling as he does so, smile lines popping out. He brushes his hair -which looks so soft and pretty- behind his ear to reveal a small golden hoop on his right lobe. Alex is dead, actually 100% dead. Because he’d been prepared for every single variable except, apparently, the one in which his roommate is drop dead gorgeous and Alex is an absolute clusterfuck of a human being who falls for the first pretty boy on he sees on campus.

Alex forces out a smile, all too aware that he’s still standing stiff and awkward in front of Willie, his grip on his fannypack tight enough to make his knuckles glow white. Then Willie coughs as some sort of attempt to fill the silence. “Sorry!” Alex squeaks. “Do you need help with the… the uh, boxes?”

“Oh yea, that’d be great!” Willie replies, beaming. “I don’t think there’s anything fragile in there, but y’know, my memory is absolute shit so if I broke some fancy china dishes I didn’t even know I owned, don’t be too shocked.”

Alex laughs anxiously. “Yea uh… I didn’t start unpacking cause I um… I didn’t want to claim a bed and stuff with-without your input?” His voice cracks at the end and he winces because Jesus fucking christ Alex.

Willie chuckles and Alex notes that he has the kind of laugh that echoes through your whole body and settles right in your heart. “ ‘S cool, man, I don’t mind.”

“Right, cool. Do you uh… are you okay if I take the bed farthest from the window? I’m not- not much of a morning person, and the window is… it’s east facing” Alex mutters, his gaze focused on his feet which are rocking back and forth at a rapid pace.

“Yea, of course,” Willie replies. “I don’t think I’ve woken up later than 8 in 5 years.”

“That’s horrific!” Alex cries, momentarily forgetting his anxiety. He steps back and blushes an even deeper red upon realizing how stupid he’s being. “I mean- I just… sorry, I just meant that-”

“You’re good, dude. I don’t bite.”

Alex cracks a tentative smile. “So uh… I’ll just start unpacking then.”

Willie shoots him a thumbs up and smiles once again, which is a thing he apparently does a lot.

An hour later, Alex’s belongings are unpacked and organized and the room feels a bit more his. He feels slightly lighter, exhaling and closing his eyes briefly. This isn’t so bad. Fiddling with the hem of his hoodie, he shuffles out into the living room where Willie is presumably unpacking. Except that he’s not.

Willie is laying upside down on a couch that somehow appeared while Alex was gone and he’s flipping through a tattered magazine while his belongings remain mostly unpacked.

“This quiz says that I should try roller skating,” Willie sniffs. “Some personality test this is- oh hey Alex!” He scrambles up so that he can look Alex in the eyes properly, and points to the magazine in his hand. “Found this in a box, not sure how it got there since I’ve never even subscribed to one of these, but there’s a chocolate chip cookie recipe in here.” He stops for a moment, pondering. “Personally I prefer peanut butter cookies, ooh especially fresh out of the oven. There’s this bakery near my house that-”

“Did you get… any unpacking done?” Alex asks, raising an eyebrow.

Willie looks around at his boxes and laughs sheepishly. “Well I unpacked one and opened 3 so… some, yes.”

“Where’d the couch come from?” Alex pokes the cushion warily, as if afraid that it’s full of bugs.

“Room across the hall,” Willie says, pointing. “They both brought couches and didn’t have room for two we got the one with more stains.”

“Right.” Alex’s reply is forced and tense, and he winces upon realizing. Truthfully, he hadn’t expected his roommate to become so comfortable so fast and he felt like he was several steps behind. Damn extroverts. Drumming his hands against his thighs, Alex slowly sits down on the other side of the couch, pointedly looking ahead instead of at Willie.

“So.” Willie scoots closer, sitting cross legged with his elbows on his thighs and chin resting in his palms. “What’s your major?”

Small talk, god Alex hates small talk. “Um, music,” he answers.

“Ah, that’s cool dude.” Willie nods.

“Uh, what about you?” Alex asks.

“Art,” Willie replies, grinning. “Be prepared for paint stains, like, everywhere.” He chuckles and nudges Alex’s shoulder playfully. Alex is going to implode, he’s sure of it.

Alex laughs awkwardly. “So uh… what’s wrong with rollerskating?”

Willie shoves his shoulder again. “Everything, dude! Well-” he cuts himself off, thinking. “-I just kinda suck at it, definitely better at my skateboard.” He jerks his head in the direction of a skateboard leaned against the wall and Alex wonders how he didn’t notice that.

“Oh, that’s- that’s cool. I rollerblade but I uh, I can’t skateboard to save my life.”

Somehow, they slip into a comfortable rhythm, and Alex notes that his anxiety no longer has him in a chokehold. Willie seems to have that affect; he’s just so… open. Alex doesn’t realize it yet, but he’s subconsciously created a folder in the back of his mind labelled “Willie,” and he doesn’t think he’s capable of forgetting anything Willie will ever say to him.

“- that’s why airplane food is just, horrible. Cause you basically lose like 30% of your tastebuds because of the elevation.” Willie smiles at Alex, gaging his response.

Alex would rather die than admit that he’s still trying to figure out how the topic of airplane food came up, so he just nods enthusiastically, actively stopping his eyes from dancing across Willie’s face, which is practically glowing in the evening sun. Evening. Shit. Alex pulls out his phone frantically. “Shit.” He says it out loud this time.

Willie’s brow furrows in confusion. “You good, dude?”

“Uh yea I’m just, I’m supposed to be meeting my fam- uh my friends for dinner and I have to be there in like 5 minutes.” He ignores the way Willie’s expression falls, convinced he’s just seeing things.

“Yea um, of course. I won’t keep you.” Willie stands up, his posture the stiffest that Alex has seen it in the whole 3 hours they’ve been acquainted for. “I’ll just… order a pizza.”

Alex hesitates in the doorway, weighing his options, which has never been his strong suit. “Do you want to join me?” He blurts impulsively. Willie looks at him in surprise. “I mean only- only if you want of course, we’ve only really uh, known each other for a few hours and you- you probably don’t want to, it was stupid. I’ll just- I’ll just go-”

“No! I’d… I’d like to, eating pizza alone in the dark sounds a little pathetic,” Willie responds.

Alex smiles genuinely. “Ok, ok that’s uh. Cool. That’s cool.”

---

Alex is already regretting this. The restaurant isn’t too crowded, he notices with a relieved breath. But it’s loud. It’s loud and yet only one group of people is talking. Alex doesn’t even need to guess who.

“Ok but- no- no- the whole song would be better!”

“Say banjo one more time, I dare you!”

“Banjo.”

“Julie, what the hell?! This is betrayal!”

“You stole my breadstick, it’s only fair.”

Alex coughs, quieting the table to a dull roar.

“Alex!” Julie pulls him down to sit next to her. “Oh? Who’s this?” Reggie is grinning wickedly and Luke waggles his eyebrows in a way that makes Alex want to shave them off.

“This is uh, my roommate Willie,” Alex responds, his voice raising an octave. “He didn’t have plans so I uh… I invited him, I hope that’s ok.”

“Of course it’s ok!” Julie pats the space on the other side of Alex and Willie sits down, appearing… oddly nervous.

“Congrats! Your Alex’s first new friend since,” Luke taps his chin, pretending to think. “7th grade.”

Alex’s face promptly falls into his hands. He’s seriously considering the whole, shaving Luke’s eyebrows in his sleep thing.

Reggie leans forward conspiratorially. “What’s your opinion on banjos?” He asks, making a point to ignore Luke’s dramatic complaining.

Willie raises his eyebrows, clearly confused. “Um. No comment?”

“I’m… sorry about them,” Alex says apolegetically. “Uh, this is Luke, Reggie, and Julie-” he gestures to each of them; Reggie waves, beaming happily. “-and Julie’s dad should be…” He trails off, looking around.

“He had to take a phone call, something about Carlos refusing to eat dinner until he proves the house is haunted,” Julie explains, clearly biting back a laugh.

“I… okay.” Alex shakes his head. “Are we waiting for more food or did Reggie eat it all?”

“Ha ha,” Reggie punctuates his statement by sticking out his tongue. “We’re waiting for the actual meals-”

“Yea Luke already ate the entire bread basket.” Julie shoots a glare in Luke’s direction.

“Well… you suggested we get hotdogs,” Luke grumbles, crossing his arms over his chest. “Payback.”

“Okay,” Julie laughs.

Willie leans over to whisper loudly to Alex, “What’s the story with the hotdogs?”

“Don’t tell him!” Luke cries, leaning across the table and slamming his palms down.

“We don’t talk of the hot-dogs,” Reggie mutters miserably.

“Food poisoning.” Alex shudders slightly. “Very bad food poisoning.”

“We almost died,” Reggie says, eyes widening. “Like, for real death. I’m pretty sure I was a ghost for a few seconds.”

“Reg, you were not a ghost,” Alex says, speaking like Reggie’s a 10 year old talking about monsters under his bed.

“I was!”

“You were not!”

“So,” Luke smiles mischievously, taking Reggie and Alex’s bickering as an opportunity to apparently torture the latter. Despite Alex’s warning glares, he turns to Willie with an innocent expression. “What kind of music do you like?”

“Luke,” Alex hisses, all too familiar with Luke’s antics.

“Hmmm.” Willie is painfully oblivious to Alex’s panicked expression as he mulls over his answer. “A lot of stuff really.” He shrugs. “Rock, pop, I like those lo-fi playlists when I’m trying to study.”

Luke nods, clearly pleased with the answer, but he isn’t done and Alex wants to hide under the table. He knows what’s coming next. “Thoughts on… drummers?”

“Luke.” Alex is seconds from lunging across the table.

“Drummers?” Willie asks, tilting his head confusedly.

“Yup,” Luke says, popping the p and still smiling like he’s some sort of innocent puppy-dog and not an absolute bastard.

“Hot,” Willie jokes. Alex can’t even hide the way he manages to choke on his own spit, and Luke and Reggie have never been great at subtlety, turning to Alex with matching shit-eating grins. Willie either doesn’t notice or is kind enough not to comment on it. “Yea, pretty sure young Roger Taylor was my gay awakening.”

Reggie is full on giggling now, and Alex’s entire face is gleaming a bright red. Willie glances around the table, puzzled.

“Mhm.” Luke nods before swiftly turning to Alex. “Hey Alex, by the way, you left your drumsticks in the car, do you need them back?” His voice is sickeningly sweet, coated in some sort of poisoned honey. It’s Willie’s turn to choke on nothing, failing to disguise it as a spontaneous coughing fit.

“Fine,” Alex squeaks as he sinks further down in his seat. If he pulls out his phone and messages Luke a flurry of threats, that’s no one’s business. He dares a glance at Willie, who has become quite fascinated with his hands, which are tapping out a mindless rhythm on the table, his cheeks and the tips of his ears dusted red.

Needless to say, Alex makes sure Luke doesn’t even get to look at the next bread basket.

---

I hope you liked it! Tell me if you want to be added to the taglist :)

I’m hoping to update at least once a week, but who knows. Ok thats all.

chapter 2

Chapter 3

chapter 4

chapter 5

chapter 6

[mi6-cafe]

WEEK 2 DRABBLES ARE HERE!

Now, let’s refresh your memory.

For the second week of LDWS, our true l- our writers were asked to write a drabble between 150 and 200 words, based on the word deck from the point of view of an outsider.

THEY DID SUCH A GREAT JOB!

(this is a purely illustrative gif of an outside observer of the goings on at Q’s flat, not a prompt)

READ THE DRABBLES AND VOTE!

hOW?

Read the drabbles & Pick three favourites!

Vote for them on this form!

Add some feedback for the writers!

That’s it! You have done your civic duty and voted!

Vote!

Read the drabbles below the line.

#1

Title: Eulogy for the Aston Martin Author: Misha / artsytarts Warnings: Canon Typical Violence (mainly directed at vehicles) Summary: Around 007, life and death go hand in hand.

The moment I leave solid ground and fly, pointed directly at the deck of the ship, I know my life is forfeit.

I realize now why the other machines pitied me after I was assigned to the man they call 007. I see his blue eyes blazing as he concentrates, gripping my steering wheel. They say he’s careless, but judging from the few days I’ve carried him, I know different. He’s not careless. His destruction is calculated. Only once I was obsolete, once he depleted my ammunition, blew my doors off, and pushed my motor to breaking point did he make his decision: To use me as his missile.

I count the milliseconds as the deck rushes towards me. Without a word, 007 pushes the ejector button and I fling him out into the open air, out into safety and freedom.

I am to be his sacrifice.

Before I hit the ship to perish in a blaze, I decide: I have no use for resentment. Like so many machines before me, I have granted him life.

That must count for something.

#2

Title: All In Author: sorion Warnings: none Summary: Bond is handy with cards, and Felix likes to watch.

There are few things as satisfying as watching James Bond clean a table in poker. Felix has learned that pretty much the moment he's met Bond, and the entertainment value hasn't changed in the years that have passed.  

On the contrary: Felix has learned some of Bond's tells. Not the kind of tells that would let him win against the insufferably unbeatable agent, but Felix recognises the spark that lights up in Bond's eyes, only seconds before he wipes the confident smirk off an opponent's face with a winning hand.  

Another thing he can see is whether Bond enjoys the game for its own sake or just really hates one of the other players. He knows it's the latter when the opponent asks for a rematch and offers the deed to a hotel in lieu of liquid funds, and Bond agrees, provided that they use a new, unopened deck of cards.  

The opponent blanches near imperceptibly, and Felix smirks into his drink. Oh, yes. Very satisfying.

#3

Title: Voyeuristic Displeasure Author: sunaddicted Warnings: none Summary: seeing everything is not so fun

Bond's hands were big and rough, stronger than they had any right to be.

He had been observing them with varying degrees of interest over the years, stuck behind his computers or out in the field - air straining in his lungs with the knowledge that the other's life depended on how fast and how smart he could be.

He watched Bond strut along the deck, hand poised low on someone's lower back, head tilted down in a way that suggested he was focusing on whatever he was being told, seemingly enraptured in them - Bond played the part well but he knew what signs to look for, to spot the seams of the almost perfect façade: he darted glances around, favoring his right side, trying to keep under the eye of the cameras that he knew to be in friendly hands.

The hand slipped lower, fingers teasingly dipping beneath the edge of the brightly colored bathing suit his companion was wearing - shameless.

Almost teasing.

He stood up with a weary sigh, empty mug held aloft: he was going to need a strongly brewed cup of tea, if he had to watch Bond flirt his way into another bed.

#4

Title: International Man Of Mystery Author: Merc / moon_of_mercury Warnings: none Summary: Some players never make it to places like Casino Royale. Others... acquire nice cars on the way.

She has encountered many interesting characters in her career, some more remarkable than others. Poker tends to attract extraordinary people. It isn’t always easily definable: something about this man arrests her attention the moment he walks up to the table, asking to join the game even though she’s already cutting the deck. 

He flashes a cocky smile at everyone, reads his opponents like a professional, and pleads with her to let the unlucky Mr. Dimitrios bet his car to win his money back. She complies, amused. Such self-sufficient arrogance would be offending if not for his friendly politeness. The way he eyes the man’s wife is not mere casual interest either. Those intense ice-blue eyes have already seen every opportunity. His body language may seem relaxed, but there’s an awareness in his movements that hints at explosive potential underneath the calm surface. 

For an exhilarating moment, she revels in being a part of this man’s story. It’s as clear as day that he’s used to playing for much higher stakes. She wonders what the real prize here is.

Dimitrios has lost again even before this stranger shows his cards. Men like him bend luck to their will. 

#5

Title: Crossroads Author: Hexiva Warnings: None Summary: James Bond visits a fortune teller.

The man’s cold blue eyes look past Serenity as he steps into her fortune-telling tent, and she shivers. His aura is like ice, a vast glacier with life frozen deep down inside it. He reminds her of a mobster from some old movie, wealthy but brutal. 

“What do you want to learn?” she asks.

“The future,” he says, distractedly. She follows his eyes to a bearded man standing at the high striker, speaking in Russian. 

She shuffles her deck. “There are two paths before everyone,” she says. “This choice is yours.” She draws two. “First path - The Lovers, the Star. Companionship and connection bringing hope. Choose the Lovers' path, and you will find a new beginning. A second chance.”

“And the other?” he asks. His tone is flat and apathetic. He doesn't believe in hope.

She draws again.  “The Emperor, the Hermit, both reversed. Rigidity and repression bringing isolation and misery. Choose the Emperor's path and you will end up alone.”

But the man is looking past her at the Russian, and he stands. “Thanks." A wry little smile. "But I think I already know what path I’m on.”

She watches him go. In his shadow, she sees the Emperor.

#6

Title: Observation Deck Author: Anyawen Warnings: none Summary: Mallory and Tanner contemplate employee relations.

Mallory surveyed the scene before him, sipping his scotch and trying, fruitlessly, to tune out the horrid rendition of 'Deck the Halls' playing overhead.

"We should do something about that," Tanner said, coming to stand beside him.

"About what?"

"That," Tanner replied, gesturing in the direction of Bond and Q. "Them."

The Quartermaster, decked out in a horrible Christmas jumper, looked exasperated. Bond, naturally, looked smug. They appeared to have entirely forgotten the holiday party happening around them as they argued. Flirted. Whatever.

"Trying to stop that from happening would be an exercise in rearranging deckchairs on the Titanic," Mallory said with a bemused smile. "Utterly futile."

"I don't want to discourage them," Tanner protested as Q cracked an unwilling smile at something Bond said.

"What, then?"

"A little push? Mistletoe? Lock them in a closet?" Tanner suggested hopefully.

"That might be construed as stacking the deck in your favor," Mallory observed mildly.

"You know about the bet?" Tanner spluttered as Q stole Bond's champagne glass and drained it to Bond's mock outrage.

"Spy," Mallory explained succinctly.

Tanner nodded wry acknowledgement.

They continued their silent observations a few minutes more, then Tanner asked, "What day did you pick?"

"April first."

#7

Title: Nighttime Invasion Author: SouffleGirl91 Warnings: vague references to blood, swearing Summary: Q’s cat is not impressed by 3am visitors

Thunk.

A crumpled heap hit the floor. She hissed, tail bushy, ready to pounce on the intruder.

“Oof!”

Gunpowder Man was invading her space.

Again.

“Q?” Gunpowder Man whisper-shouted. He sounded different. “Are you awake?”

Something dark dripped from his nose.

She sniffed cautiously. He stank of copper and salt. Still, it was better than the strong, sour reek of last time.

A light came on in Father’s bedroom.

Gunpowder Man lifted himself up and wobbled to the sofa. Walking on two legs seemed harder for him than usual.

“Bond?” Father came traipsing up behind him, making the room light up. “What the fuck? It’s 3 in the bloody morning. You couldn’t wait?”

“What, you’re not happy to see me?” Gunpowder Man used the false-happy tone Father used when he tricked her into The Basket.

Another dark drip.

“Don’t be stupid,” Father tsked, petting Gunpowder Man softly on the shoulder. That should help; Father gave the best pets. “Why don’t I put the - Christ, Bond! What happened to your nose?”

“It’s not broken. She hit me when I told her I was staying.”

“I thought psychologists were meant to keep their cool,” Father sighed. “Come on, let’s clean you up.”

#8

Title: A confession of a deck Author: scarytheory Warnings: none Summary: James Bond would be lost without me.

I'd like to think that James and I are not just colleagues, but friends.

You know, we’ve been through a lot together. Cottages in forgotten lands, first-class casinos, important fights – I’d always been with him and helped him along the way.

But this game is different.

“That’s not fair, James,” the opponent says, watching his stack of cards.

“I’m not cheating, Q.”

The opponent snorts. “You may be the best player the MI6’s ever had, but even you can’t be THAT good, 007. Aces again? That’s not very subtle.”

“You were the one who said poker is just basic math and all about the art of reading people. So stop whinging and take off your shirt.”

Beg your pardon?

There is something disturbing in the air. I don’t think I want to give the good cards to James anymore. “Happy?”

The shirt falls to the floor.

“Immensely.”

The next round, Q loses his pants. I’m starting to think that this isn’t even about poker!

“I won.”

Finally, it’s over and I can relax again. Even though I’m not sure what this young lad can have that James Bond would be interested in… oh.

#9

Title: Camouflage Author: IrishWitch58 Warnings: None Summary: A certain agent and their partner are in the field. The local perspective.

Grace's eyes were drawn to her first customers on the deck overlooking the harbor. They were as unlike as could be but Grace would have known they were together with just a glance. The subtle leaning in, the eye contact, the briefest brush of a hand. Not honeymooners but the established kind of connection that took time and patience. The younger man was dark and slender and had a tan that was honey gold. The older one was broader and blond and that one sent tingles up her spine. Her brother and his military buddies were like that, poised and watchful. She didn't see a weapon but suspected he was armed. They'd arrived three days ago in a beautifully restored vintage sailboat, walking the less traveled portions of the island.

Passing Grace, Mimi muttered “Spies posing as tourists.”

Gracie scoffed at Mimi's imagination. What were they spying on here, conch recipes? Then a new boat dropped anchor. The blond saw it first and the dark haired one checked the tablet he always seemed to have before nodding and finishing his chowder.

The pretty sailboat pulled up anchor the next dawn and the new boat was found derelict two days later.

#10

Title: Missing Him Author: Nana-chan Warnings: Summary: Austen the cat watches as her human pines for the Blond One

From her perch on the living room sofa, Austen looks disapprovingly at her bespectacled human. He is out on the deck again, smoking and no doubt pining for the Blond One. He is a relatively new addition to the household and has been gone for several days now, as is his habit. Keats—that dummy—misses him, too, as he meows and gazes forlornly at the front door.

She herself is unsure of the Blond One, but she doesn’t like it when her human is all sad and distracted, reeking of cigarette smoke and unresponsive to feline overtures of comfort. She feels powerless to help him. How did one man become so essential to her human’s happiness?

Then a key turns, the door opens, and there he is. The Blond One dumps his bag in the foyer and heads straight for the deck, pausing only to give her a brief head scritch. She watches as he folds her human into his arms and starts grooming him in that strange way humans have, with their mouths fused.

She hears her human laugh, gladness and relief evident in his tones, and finally, she makes up her mind about the Blond One.

#11

Title: Origin of a Voyeur Author: stormofsharpthings Warnings: none Summary: There was a legitimate reason to start going through all the Q Branch security footage, dammit!

After the small accidental volcano destroyed lab 7b, no one could recall who’d last checked the fire suppression system. Exasperated, R pulled up the security videos in hopes of spotting someone. The recording of Q and 007 was entirely unrelated, but she just couldn’t look away.

Q had been helping Bond dress for some formal event, tuxedo carefully tailored to conceal the equipment Q was arranging around his body. The scene resembled a squire helping his knight, except...

R bit her lip at the way Q stroked his fingertips down the front of Bond’s suit to check the drape of the fabric, evading Bond’s hungry gaze with a sly little quirk to his mouth. Then Q leaned close, reaching around to run his hands over the back of the jacket, lingering a little over Bond’s well-proportioned backside before he sank to one knee and brushed along the sides of the trousers.

“There, all decked out,” Q murmured.

Bond reached down to cradle Q’s chin in his hand and Q looked up with a provocative lick of his lips, the heat almost visibly simmering between them. Bond took a deep breath, his fingers tightening, and Q ‘s eyes widened and then slid shut as he turned to brush his lips against Bond’s thumb. When Bond made a low rough sound, both Q and Rani swallowed at the same time.

Then the outer office door slammed and she hurriedly shut her computer down, blushing. But she saved a private copy first.

#12

Title: The Bet Author: Venstar Warnings: none Summary: Bets are made, there will be blood.

Oh, yes. It was going to happen. The tension was palpable in the room, yes he said palpable in his interior monologue. Just fucking get closer. Do it already. He was going to win that bet today by fuck. He leaned forward in anticipation, eyes locked on target. Yes. Yes….Keep going...almost….

*AH-OOH-GA!! AH-OOH-GAH!! AH-OOH-GAH!!*

Fuck, goddammit. Not again! He narrowed his eyes. There was no way another attack by water was happening. Dammit. Fake or not they were going to have to clear the god damned building. He sighed heavily as he turned sad eyes back to where 007 and Q had been quietly eyeing each other. They were gone. “What the fuck?” Where? There! The orange of Q’s cardigan turned a corner.  He was not about to lose the 'THEY FINALLY MADE OUT DAY' be! He ignored the rest of Q’branch’s leads as they ordered the evacuation.

“Davis?”

Fuck. It was R.

“And just where are you going? Exit is that way.”

He turned with hunched shoulders to find R smiling at him. Her eyes flitted past him to where Q and 007 had disappeared to. “THAT bet will only be won when it’s officially my day.”

#13

Title: Specs and the Lady Author: solarmorrigan Warnings: None. Summary: Louis has been a bartender for a long time, but occasionally patrons can still surprise him.

The Friday night crowd seethes around the bar in waves, laughing and calling out their orders. Louis has been a bartender a long time, which means he can keep up with the steady roll of vodka-tonic-scotch-and-soda-bottle-bottle-pint and still keep an eye on the floor for trouble.

Trouble like the man in specs and a loud jumper bumping into an over-drunk man in a worn football jersey, spilling both their drinks.

Specs’ mouth forms the word ‘sorry,’ but Jersey isn’t having it. He grabs Specs’ jumper, but before Louis can even call for Paul—their unofficial bouncer-bartender—a lady slides in between them, curly hair and cunning eyes, and pulls Jersey’s hand away.

Jersey shoves the lady, and viper-quick, she decks him. Jersey goes down.

Louis lets out a surprised laugh. The lady looks quite pleased. Specs looks exasperated, though Louis doesn’t know why; if he had someone like that in his corner, all squared shoulders and terrifying heels, he’d be delighted. Then again, from Specs’ half-laughing attempt at chastisement that carries in the surprised lull in noise (“Really, Eve?”), this isn’t the first time it’s happened.

“Just take Jersey out,” Louis bids as Paul moves in, “Specs and the lady are fine.”

#14

Title: Eyes on You Author: oldestcharm Warnings: n/a Summary: The Quartermaster is enjoying his afternoon and Bond is far too concerned about his garden.

She's good at her job. So good, in fact, that she's currently hidden from sight with her scope right on MI6's Quartermaster himself. He's sitting on the deck of his house, enjoying the sunny weather with a girly drink in one hand and a laptop resting on his thighs. He's typing furiously, paying no attention to his surroundings. All she has to do is take one shot.  

Then, the sprinklers turn on.  

She does her best to not make a sound even as her phone buzzes.

4:27 pm:

There are over twenty cameras on the property.

4:28 pm:

I suggest you get out of my hydrangea bush. James worked rather hard on the garden and he won't be pleased to find you there.

A click behind her — probably a gun. "You've ruined my garden."

She turns around and finds herself face to face with the legendary agent. She cringes. "I'm... very sorry?"

Bond does not look amused. "You're fixing this before you leave."

"You're not going to kill me?" she asks, heart pounding.

"Q wants you for his team." Bond sighs, looking more annoyed than anything. "Either you accept or I'll shoot you."

Well, it's not exactly a choice.

#15

Title: Over It Author: MrKsan / starrboned Warnings: Canon-Typical language Summary: Tanner is nervous.

Ferrying through the maze of the Thames tunnels was often a nerve-wracking job. More so when his passengers were nervous. More so when it was the Chief of Staff who was sitting across from him, restless, tap-tap-tapping on his cardboard box.

Tanner gave Jack an awkward smile as they docked, climbing the narrow ladder just as the Quartermaster stormed into view.

“I’m going to skin the twat alive, Bill!“ he hissed, making Tanner stumble to a stop. “Didn’t even try to cover his tracks.”

Jack grinned. Only one man could piss Q off that much.

Tanner sighed, resigned. “I’ll inform M-”

“Already did,” Q huffed.

"Oh?"

"Not risking my career for him again, Bill."

Jack dared a peek at the couple; the conversation was taking an unexpected turn.

Tanner blinked, once, twice, before seeming to come to a decision. He shoved the cardboard box at Q.

“Thought we could share breakfast, since our dinner last night was interrupted? Bad timing, of course- ”

"Bill,” Q said, and Jack saw the silver of a smirk. "I would love to."

Pulling a crumpled cigarette from under his heavy coat, Jack couldn't help but grin to himself.

MI6 and their drama.

Go vote!

[night-fallz]

We’re Tired of Him

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Wally interrupts game night.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Ao3 // Wattpad

previous II next

We’re Tired of Him (part 2)

Dick stared at the cards in front of him, eyes tentatively drifting to Tim and Jason.

Jason’s brows were furrowed before he slowly put down a +4, cheekily grinning at Tim. “I choose red.”

Tim’s face was blank, eyes switching from the stack of cards on the table to the ones that he was holding. In the end, he gave Dick a mischievous grin, putting down another +4. “I want green.”

Dick groaned and the cave was filled with his brothers’ laughter, they gave each other a high five while Dick grabbed 8 cards from the deck.

“You guys are cheating.” he accused.

Jason shrugged and Tim raised an eyebrow, neither one saying anything.

Jason had five cards left and Tim had three. Dick would be winning if it wasn’t for that stupid +8 trick they pulled off.

He put down a green card, leaving him with nine cards.

“Uno,” Tim called out, not flinching when Dick glared at him.

No one said anything for a few seconds until Dick’s voice cut through the silence. “I don’t want to play anymore.”

Tim gaped at him, “That’s not fair.”

“What’s not fair is the fact that the two of you are conspiring against me.”

“We are not!”

“Are too.”

“Are not.”

“Are too!”

“Jason, tell Dick that we weren’t cheating.”

Jason stared back at the two of them, unimpressed. “We weren’t cheating.”

Tim gave him a victorious look. As if he was trying to say, see. Jason agrees that we weren’t cheating, so we obviously aren’t cheating.

“That doesn’t prove anything.” Dick cried out, “Why would Jason admit that you guys were cheating?”

Jason frowned, “Are you accusing me of lying?”

“Yes!”

“That’s not very nice of you, Dickie.”

“I don’t care if it’s not nice of me. You’re cheating and I don’t want to play with a bunch of cheaters.”

Laughter filled the air and Dick turned towards it, launching himself towards the intruder.

Behind him, Tim took a defensive position, bo staff in his hand and Jason had his guns out, ready to shoot the intruder.

With rubber bullets, of course.

The intruder groaned in pain, “Well, at least I know that it doesn’t matter how old you are. You’re still a very sore loser.”

Dick glanced down, getting off the person when he realized who it was. “Sorry, Wally.” he apologized, offering his hand to pull the red-head up.

Tim frowned, “What are you doing here?”

“Yeah,” Dick added on. “Didn’t you guys have a mission or something?”

Wally sped over to the closest chair and sat on it, “Yeah, but we finished it pretty quickly.”

Wally’s eyes were focused on his hands and Tim followed the speedster’s gaze, noticing how they seemed to fidget.

Tim inwardly frowned, was there a problem or something. Everyone in the Justice League knew that the Batcave was off limits. And even then, they didn’t make an effort to try and enter it.

Wally was lucky that Dick was here or else Batman would’ve had to deal with him.

Thankfully, Jason spoke up, “There better be an emergency or something cause it's game night. And you just interrupted it.”

Wally opened his mouth, “You know Damian right?”

Tim stared at Wally, “Yeah, we know Damian. He’s our brother, you idiot.”

“No- I mean- like- I-“ Wally sighed, “I know he’s your brother, it’s just-“ he groaned, “I don’t know how to explain it.”

Tim wanted to groan as well. This was supposed to be game night. A bonding experience. He didn’t want to talk about Damian.

He would be lying if he said that he still didn’t harbor a grudge against the youngest member of the Wayne family.

When Jason tried to kill him, he was under the influence of the Lazarus Pit. And afterward, he apologized to Tim.

As far as Tim knew, Damian wasn’t under the influence of anything. All Damian said was something about how Tim wasn’t worthy of becoming the Wayne heir and tried to slice him with a sword.

Bruce said that he had a talk with Damian about it but the brat never apologized, so Tim hasn’t forgiven him.

Dick’s voice snapped Tim out of his thoughts, “Did Damian do something again?”

“Kind of.” Wally waved it off, “He was just acting like- well, himself.”

Tim winced, that was still pretty bad.

“What did he do?”

“It’s not important.”

“It must be pretty important if you risked going to the Batcave.” Jason pointed out.

“That’s actually not why I’m here.”

It was Jason’s turn to frown. None of this shit was making sense.

He knew that he should’ve just stayed with Roy.

Jason was under the impression that they would be playing games. You know, hanging out, making a mess, being forced to bond like brothers and all that shit.

He didn’t want to talk about the demon brat.

And if anyone asked, the answer was yes. He was still mad at the little Christmas gift Damian got him last Christmas.

What the fuck gave the kid the idea to give Jason a crowbar as a gift?

Jason still had nightmares about his death. The crowbar did nothing but made those horrors come more often every night.

He fought off the shiver that threatened to make its way upon his body.

“If you weren’t here to talk about the demon, then what did you want to talk about?”

Wally faced them, “You wouldn’t happen to know a way to get the bra- Damian to relax would you?”

Jason heard Tim snort at the question, “Trust me. If we knew a permanent way to get Damian to stop being so uptight, we would’ve used it by now.”

He studied the speedster, narrowing his eyes when Wally started to avoid their gaze.

“Wally,” Dick was using his i-am-the-leader-so-you-have-to-listen-to-me voice. “What are you trying to say?”

“I mean, what if we get him drunk.”

Jason blinked, “You want to get Damian drunk.”

When Wally nodded, Jason continued, practically yelling. “Why the fuck would you want to get Damian drunk? He’s gonna kill you.”

Tim shook his head, his mind already coming up with a million scenarios of how this would end up. “How did you even come up with the idea that getting Damian drunk would help him relax?”

“Getting him drunk won’t help him relax at all.” Jason pointed out, “It’ll probably only make him even more uptight and paranoid.”

Jason’s blue eyes glinted with something Tim couldn’t decipher, “Unless that’s not what you’re after. You want to get the brat drunk for another reason.”

Wally nervously nodded, “You caught me. Well us- I guess. The team and I wanted your permission to get Damian drunk so that we can learn more about him and gain blackmail material on him.”

Tim froze, mouth open in shock.

That was a lot of information.

Dick sat down, his head beginning to hurt.

He could see the appeal in learning more about Damian. He’s been living in the manor for around two years now and they still don’t know much about him.

If Damian opens up about his past, then it’ll be easier for the family to help him. It’ll be nice for Damian to start getting comfortable with people. After all, that was the whole reason that Bruce signed him up for school.

And who knows, maybe his baby bird could make a new friend or two. Cause Dick knows full well that he doesn’t have any at the moment.

The cave was engulfed with silence, except for the sound of Wally’s feet nervously tapping the floor.

In the end, the speedster himself was the one who cut through it. “So…” Wally’s voice trailed off, “Do I have your permission?”

Tim’s eyes were focused on the ground. “I don’t care what you do to the brat but I want to be in the tower when it happens.”

Wally smirked, nodding in acceptance. “Deal,” he turned to the others “What about you guys?”

Dick shifted uncomfortably in the chair, his back was stiff and Tim could see how conflicted his eyes were. With a little bit of probing, he knew that he could convince his oldest brother to agree to Wally’s demands.

“Come on Dick,” Tim said, his lips tugging upwards. “Aren’t you even remotely curious about what Damian will say?”

When Dick doesn’t answer, Tim continued. “You know that Damian has a hard time with, um, interacting with people. This is probably the only way we’ll get him to open up.”

He could see the gears turning in Dick’s head and Tim realized that he was so close. All he had to do was push a little more.

“Doesn’t Damian deserve it? Damian deserves people who understand him. People that’ll be there for him. Hasn’t Talia fucked up his life enough?”

Dick clenched his fists at the mention of the Al Ghul, “Fine.” He spat out, “But only because Damian needs this.”

Tim raised an eyebrow at him, not believing a word. “Alright.”

Dick wasn’t stupid. He knew that Tim was trying to manipulate him into agreeing. But it also doesn’t change the fact that his brother was right.

Talia did mess up Damian’s life. She was the reason that he hasn’t opened up to anyone yet. Why he was treated like such an outcast with the other capes.

If all Dick had to do was get his little brother drunk, then he would do it.

Tim turned to his predecessor, “And you Jason?” he asked. His head was tilted innocently but his eyes were calculating him.

Jason knew he would be outnumbered if he disagreed. It also doesn’t help that Tim had his I-can-get-you-to-agree-with-anything-face on.

He groaned in defeat, burying his face with his hands. He knew that he should’ve stayed with Roy tonight. After this, he would never go to a game night again.

He looked at Tim’s determined face and sighed, “I’m not gonna be able to stop any of you anyway. I’m in as well.” his lips formed a smirk, “It won’t hurt to gain blackmail material on the brat.”

Damian better watch out because the next time he puts a crowbar underneath his pillow, Jason was gonna send the video of him being drunk out of his mind to everyone that he was in contact with.

Jason knows that Tim would help him.

“So you all agree?”

“Yes.”

“You’re agreeing to getting your brother drunk.”

“Yes.”

“Huh, okay. Great.”

Wally’s face turns mischievous and it reminds Dick of when they were kids. Back when they just started with the whole vigilante thing.

“So are you guys free for the rest of the night?”

“Wait,” realization hit Tim like the brick that Steph threw at him. “You guys are planning on doing this tonight?”

Wally nods, “Well, yeah. The sooner the better you know?”

“And when exactly did you guys come up with this plan?”

Wally rubbed the back of his neck, “Like about two hours ago? We were just talking and it escalated from there.”

Tim doesn’t know how you can go from talking to conspiring an idea on getting a teammate drunk. At least, not unless-

“You know, you can admit that you were talking about Damian.” Tim leaned forward, “You guys aren’t the only ones that talk badly about him.”

“Tim!” Dick cried incredulously, “You shouldn’t talk about Damian like that.”

He shrugged in response, “You do it too.” he said, “Remember when you first met him?”

He felt his face turning red and he turned away from Tim, hoping he wouldn’t see his face. “That was a long time ago.”

“You were also complaining about him yesterday.”

“I was not.”

“Was too.”

Tim folded his arms, “So you’re a sore loser and a liar.”

Dick fought hard to suppress a groan, “You guys were cheating.” he cried out. “I don’t play with cheaters.”

Jason faced Wally. “What they’re trying to say is that yes. We’re all free tonight.”

Wally smiled brightly. “I knew that you guys would be okay with this.”

Jason nodded, deciding he should be nice for once and not point out how Wally pale and nervous the speedster was before he asked the question.

For someone with super speed, Wally took way too long to get to the point.

He could see why he was friends with Dick.

“You know,” Wally’s tone got Dick’s attention. It was the one he always used where he wanted to embarrass someone. And Dick was usually the target. “I remember you hacking the Mario Kart back when we used to play.”

“Did I?” he put on his best confused face, “I don’t remember that ever happening.”

Dick definitely remembered that happening. He beat a speedster at a racing game. Hacked or not, he was still the winner.

Tim pointed an accusatory finger at him, “I knew it. You’re the cheater.”

Jason shook his head in agreement, “Dickface over here has the biggest competitive streak. Remember when he put the steak in his shorts just so he could prove to everyone that he was Titus’s favorite?”

Dick forced a frown on his face, “Funny thing is, I don’t remember that happening. At all.”

“That took place two days ago!”

“I have bad memory…?” he meekly offered.

Tim scoffed, “We’re never having a game night with you again.”

“You say that every week.” Jason pointed out.

“Well, I’m serious this time.”

“Uh-huh.”

Tim didn’t like the amount of attention that was now focused on him so he turned to Wally, “So how are we going to get Damian drunk?”

“We were just gonna spike his drink.”

Tim swore, “You can’t just spike Damian’s drink. He’s gonna figure out that you guys are acting weird and realize what you’re doing.”

Wally fidgeted under Tim’s scrutinizing gaze, “Well what do you suggest we do?”

Tim smirked and Dick swears that the room just got colder.

“The kid is pretty much a prodigy at everything vigilante related thanks to his training, but he sucks at socializing.”

“Well, yeah. Isn’t that why we want to get him drunk?” Wally asked, not seeing the point in what Tim is trying to see.

Tim answered the redhead's question with a “Well, yes.” before continuing at his attempt to tell everyone his plan.

“But what I’m trying to say is that we can overwhelm him. Me and Jason will help set everything up in the tower and Dick will bring Damian there.”

“So we’re throwing a party?”

Tim furrowed his eyebrows, “I mean, if that’s what you want to call it, then yes.”

It was Dick’s turn to frown, “Why do I have to be the one to bring him in?”

“Cause he likes you better than any of us.”

“But still,” Dick groaned. “It’s gonna be so hard to convince him.”

“That sounds more like a you problem than it sounds like an us problem.”

“This is unfair.”

“Call it paying me and Jason back for accusing us of cheating.”

Before Dick could reply, Wally sped away, taking his brothers with him. And before he could even blink, they disappeared via zeta tube.

They left Dick alone in the cave, with the board games still out.

He rolls his eyes in annoyance, mumbling under his breath as he cleaned up the mess.

“Who gave Bruce the idea to adopt more children past me. If he wanted more children, why couldn’t he make sure that he got the ones that cleaned up after themselves and didn’t cheat while playing UNO.”

He huffed, proud of himself when he accomplished the task.

Now all he had to do was convince Damian to come back to the Titans’ tower so that they could help him.

How hard could that be?

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

note: okay, I reread this whole series so that I could get inspired to write this chapter. And can I just say, my writing was not as bad as I thought it was. Like I’m actually pretty proud of myself. 

That was really random but yeah.

(like I always ask, please comment any ideas, feedback, and criticism that you have. i love reading them. Oh! and if you see any spelling errors, please tell me. I don't have a beta reader so I mostly miss those things.)

[niksixx]

Plus One

Welcome to part 5 of Plus One. We are approaching the end of this mini fic, but do not worry my loves. We still have a few parts left. I hope you enjoy part 5, and please remember to leave comments, reblog, and add tags. It motivates me to continue writing for you all. 💜

Note: Just a reminder, though this fic may seem fast, it takes place over the course of a few months!! 

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

*Pia’s POV*

Eight bright, colorful beanbags are scattered around the floor in a private room at the back end of the library. It’s quiet, far away from small children who squeal excitedly when they spot their favorite comic book and a good distance away from the college students who gather at the old wooden tables to recite chemistry flashcards in one big study group.

Black coffee and burnt wood is the signature smell of the book club room. Only a few windows are open, allowing just a bit of sunshine and breeze to fill the room. The aura is comforting.

“Okay, everyone,” I say, setting the book in my lap. I believe The Catcher in the Rye is a classic, but various opinions, both positive and negative, have been directed toward the book over the years. Romance is the genre I’ve always been drawn to, fiction or nonfiction, but I can certainly appreciate a coming-of-age novel. “How did we feel about the story?”

Margaret, an elderly woman with curly gray hair and silver glasses, raises her hand timidly. It’s the first time she has volunteered to speak since the start of our club. I give her an encouraging smile, nodding. “I enjoyed it very much, though it was slow at times.”

A small contribution, but a contribution nonetheless. “Thank you Margaret. Would anyone else like to share?”

Shayne, a third-year college student, wiggles his fingers and clears his throat. “I would.” He snaps the book shut with one hand. “The book itself is enjoyable. There’s a lot of important themes that are entwined in the storyline. But Holden, and let me be clear, I feel terrible for saying this about a sixteen-year-old, was insufferable.”

“I thought I was the only one who thought so!” Stacy chirps from her beanbag. The thirty-year old mother of two crosses her ankles, drumming her fingers on the spine of her novel. “I was under the impression that Holden believed he was better than everyone else. His personality alone was enough to make me despise the book and it’s a shame. I wanted to love it.”

“That’s an interesting point, Stacy.” Setting my book on the ground, I adjust my legs deeper into the beanbag while the rest of the book club eagerly sits forward, awaiting my response. “And this is why I love reading so much. Whether the story is true or not, we know Holden Caulfield is not a real person, though there have been assumptions that J.D. Salinger modeled Holden after himself. Stacy, you said that Holden’s personality gave you enough reason to not enjoy the book. We certainly have to appreciate Salinger’s talent as an author. He was able to create a character that made you feel such strong emotions.” The club nods in agreement before I continue. “Now Shayne, you mentioned themes. Explain a bit more for me.”

“Gladly,” he answers eagerly. “Innocence. It’s the main theme. Holden, for lack of a better term, is obsessed with the preservation of childhood innocence. I do think that’s admirable, and while he was intolerable in my opinion, I can understand his desire to conserve one’s purity.”

“I assume there’s going to be a but in your next statement,” Charlie pipes up with a chuckle. The forty-seven year old retired firefighter wears a kind smile on his face.

“But,” Shayne smirks and holds up a finger. “Holden is one big contradiction, and here’s why. We know how much Holden hated the adult world and it’s “phoniness”. It’s the whole reason he wanted to preserve innocence wherever he could. Holden himself was a phony, a fake. He condemns adulthood but is seemingly unaware of his own phoniness. I now hate this word, by the way.”

A collective chuckle sounds in the room. I shake my head but can’t help the growing smile. The book club has been the highlight of my week so far.

“Anyway,” Shayne continues. “He’s deceptive and a compulsive liar. Holden is the epitome of what he hates.”

“That is a fantastic observation, Shayne, and thank you for sharing.” He bows dramatically before slinking back deeper into the beanbag. “Before we conclude our meeting and I introduce our new book, I have a question. Does anyone know why Holden’s name is symbolic to the story?”

I can see the wheels turning in their brains, and for a moment I think I’ve stumped them. Charlie looks like he wants to answer, but nothing comes out of his mouth. I take the chance to speak up. “First, does anyone know what a caul is?”

Stacy’s hand shoots up in the air. “I think I learned about this in one of my birthing classes but forgive me if I’m wrong. But isn’t the caul a part of the amnion that protects an unborn baby? Near the head, right?”

I snap my finger and point to Stacy excitedly. “Yes! And what does the name Holden sound like?”

“Holden...hold...en...hold...hold on?” Charlie asks skeptically.

“Exactly right,” I grin proudly. “Put it all together.”

“Oh my gosh,” Margaret says softly. Everyone turns toward the older woman. “In the book there was mention of Holden imagining children frolicking in a rye field. I just realized it now. He’s the catcher in the rye field, protecting the children. Holden Caulfield. Hold on to childhood innocence.”

I grin wildly, clapping along with the rest of the book club members. “Incredible, Margaret. You’re exactly right.”

“So, what’s our next book?” Shayne asks, hands tapping his thighs. “I’m feeling a mystery book.”

“Or Sci-Fi,” Charlie answers.

“Oooo, Sci-Fi,” Shayne murmurs excitedly.

“Neither,” I say, giggling at their frowns. From my purse, I pull out a purple paperback book and show it to the group. “Historical fiction mixed with romance. Our next book is The Madness of Lord Ian Mackenzie. I’ve never heard of it, so I’m sure you haven’t either. It’s about the same length as The Catcher in the Rye, maybe only a few pages more. Let’s all try to read the first five chapters and we’ll meet again next week.”

Stacy, Charlie, and Margaret bid farewell. Shayne stays back with me, shooting me a smirk as I gather my belongings. “Another romance novel, huh? Something you’d like to share with the class? Maybe his name?”

A slow smile spreads across my lips. I sling my purse over my shoulder, clamping a hand down on Shayne’s. “He’s a dream, Shayne. I’ve known him forever, but it’s finally official,” Two months ago, I used to cringe on the word official when it wasn’t. It still isn’t, but something between us feels different, feels real. The more I’m with him, the more I don’t want to pretend.

Shayne slings an arm around my shoulder, leading me out of the room. He’s had his fair share of relationship issues as well, but at twenty-one, he’s still young. “I’m glad one of us isn’t having boy trouble. Philip called me the other day, said he wants to get back together.”

“Are you going to?”

Shayne makes a face, opening the front door of the library. He scoots aside, letting me walk first. “Hell no, Sweets. He was a terrible boyfriend,” Shayne considers for a moment. “At least the sex was good. You think he’d settle for friends with benefits?”

I laugh heartily, pushing Shayne’s shoulder. “That’s a recipe for disaster, my friend. You want my advice? Spend some time on yourself. Find out what you really want in life.”

I head off to my car, Shayne walking the opposite way to his. Before I can slide into the seat, Shayne calls out to me. “Is he the one?”

I don’t have to think about it. It comes out naturally. “Without a doubt.”

~~~

Janielle has outdone herself, but I never expected anything less. Desserts are on every counter in her kitchen, from cupcakes to brownies and pastries. Outside on the back deck, a long white table is filled from end to end with finger foods and appetizers. With a beer in his hand, Dominic flips burgers expertly at the grill, shooting his wife a goofy grin when she utters a stern ‘be careful’. The rest of the adults gather on the patio, laughing and drinking, while the kids swim excitedly in the pool.

It’s the hottest day in August so far, and I can’t tell if my cheeks are red from the heat or from my constant ogling of Nikki’s shirtless chest. I watch from the deck as Nikki, Vince, and Amanda clink their bottles together and down their drinks. Nikki wins, throwing his hands up in the air dramatically, before turning his head to shoot me a wink. I laugh and shake my head, holding up my glass of wine that is still half full.

“So, you and Sixx,” My laughter is cut off by Dom, whose eyes twinkle with the same amusement present in his voice. “How about that?”

My stomach flips just at the mention of Nikki. “Going on almost four months,” I answer proudly, swirling the wine in my glass. “We’ve got nothing on you and Janielle, though.”

Dom smirks, carefully plating more burgers. I take the plate from him, and he nods in thanks. “Hey, not everyone knows who they’re going to marry at sixteen years old.”

This time, my heart beats faster just at the brief mention of marriage. I try not to let myself think of a long-term commitment with Nikki just yet. To everyone else, we’ve been official for a few months. But to myself and Nikki, we’re just two best friends playing a role.

“It’s too early to talk about marriage just yet,” I reply with a soft grin.

“But it’s a possibility in the future, yes?” Dom asks, stacking the last few burgers on the plate.

All I can answer with is a subtle nod just before I feel an arm snake around my waist. I crane my neck to glance up at Nikki just as his lips press a kiss to my jaw. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Dom’s lazy smile and it puts me at ease knowing that Nikki and I have done our job at convincing everyone that what’s between us is true.

“Hi gorgeous,” Nikki greets breathily. “You doing okay?”

“Never better,” I answer truthfully, leaning back into his chest. I hand off the plate of burgers to Dom before directing my attention back to Nikki. “Are you?”

Nikki nods, arm tightening around my waist. “I’m perfect.” He holds up three empty beer bottles. “Come with me?”

I nod and take his hand, letting him lead me into the kitchen. While Nikki rummages through Janielle’s fridge for more beer, I steal a cannoli from the dessert tray, biting into the sweet cream.

“I’m having so much fun with you,” I blurt out honestly, licking the cream from my lips.

For a brief second, something flashes across Nikki’s face, almost as if my statement mimicked a bitter taste in his mouth. It’s gone just as fast as it came, replaced by an easy smile. “I am too, P.”

I bite my lip as Nikki opens the three bottles, eyes lingering on his tattooed arms. He catches me, smirking. “Pretty girl, you’re not exactly trying to hide it, you know.”

I blush, looking away like I always do when a compliment from Nikki is directed my way. And because I look away, I miss Nikki freeze in alarm, eyes wide, studying me.

When I turn back around, I notice his lips are in a thin line, jaw clenched ever so slightly. “P, I think we need to talk about something.”

His voice is serious, more serious than it’s ever been, and momentarily I fear the worst. Nikki’s fingers fidget nervously, and I can tell whatever is on his mind has been there for quite some time. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” It’s not a convincing answer, but I don’t say anything as he continues. “It’s more of a question, actually.” His hands fall at his side as he steps forward, exhaling a strangled breath. “Are we...what we’re doing…” His voice goes low. “We’re still pretending, right?”

There’s a lump forming in my throat, and I try my best to speak around it without giving off the impression that I’m either extremely hopeful he wants to make this real, or going to start crying because he wants to call everything off. “Yeah. Unless…unless you don’t want to pretend--.”

“No, no,” He says all too quickly, hands skimming my arms. “I like pretending. Pretending is good, safe. I just...wanted to make sure we’re still on the same page.” He grabs my hands, pressing a gentle kiss to each, before grabbing the bottles from the counter.

And as he leaves Janielle’s kitchen with a smile, I’m left standing alone and more confused than I’ve ever been.

[asunshinepuff]

Secrets of the Darkened Seas

🧜🏻‍♀️ Hello! Welcome to chapter three! Please please please give a like and follow to my co-author and best friend Luna ( @ladynightmare913 ) because this story would not be where it’s at without her help!

She’s incredible and deserves so much credit for working on this alongside me cause she works so hard. And I feel horrible that she isn’t getting the credit deserves.

Especially since this chapter includes some of her own ocs in addition to my own! There’s a lot of new faces to join us! All credit for creation goes to each other for our respective characters because we’ve both worked so hard to create our ocs and I wouldn’t dare want to take credit away from her.

As always, a reminder that there is some lore included within this, however, it will be explained over time so no worries. There’s no mention of lore for right now.

The Included lore on different types of merfolk will be taken from the book “The Secret World of Mermaids” by Francine Rose. We will not take credit for it’s writing. It’s a childhood book of mine that I adore dearly and sincerely think you should all check out!

Also! Please let me know if you want to be added to the tag list so that you don’t miss a new chapter!

Anyways, that’s about it. I hope you enjoy!

If you’ve missed any chapters here’s the link to the masterlist for this story Secrets of the Darkened Seas 🧜🏻‍♀️

Small warning at the start here, there is a minor character death included in this chapter.

.

Chapter 3: A Sea of Fireworks

Three years passed as The Dragon’s Pearl sailed the seven seas. There had been many fierce battles and grand adventures as Remus learned the ways of the sword from both Captain Hua and First mate Sandoval. During the past few years, Remus found a particular fondness for literature that grew further than when he was younger. Along the way, there have been many new companions to join the shipmates, and the secrets of a certain young man were revealed. A year on his own at sea taught Remus many things, but he couldn’t help but miss the company of those upon The Dragons’ Pearl. 

Now at seventeen summers old, the once young boy has grown into a fine young man. 

Under the sea, there was a mythical creature with bright shimmering amber scales, varying in shades of accent tones from the top of his tail, to his fluke. The moonlight breached the surface of the darkened sea, the light reflected off of his amber eyes, as if they began to shine and glow under the moon’s pale beauty. His medium length tawny colored hair flowed around him in the cool waters. The mer turned down before his arms moved forwards as he dived down deeper into the sea. The deeper he went, the darker it became. 

As he reached the seafloor, he swam at a leisurely pace, brushing a clawed hand against the seagrass. Looking up, the seagrass became littered with life, crabs, small, fish, seahorses, an octopus, and coral. He chuckled to himself as the fish scattered when he swam near them, a green sea turtle by his side seemed to follow him, wherever he went. It had felt too long since he had last been in the sea. 

Remus’ head turned sharply upwards as he picked up the sound of a muffled screeching noise coming from the surface. Then a muted bang before a flash of scattered gold light. With a strong flick of his tail, the floor beneath him vanished from sight as he neared the surface. 

Breaching from the water, he looks up to the familiar ship with concern, “Opal! What’s happening?!” He yells up to the deck. 

In an instant, a tall beautiful greek woman, around the age of twenty-three, with long light brown hair, hazel green eyes, lightly tanned skin peered over the railing of the deck to respond. She was dressed in a sea-blue off the shoulder long-sleeved shirt that was tucked into her light brown pants, with a black corset vest on top, and black boots. At her hip was a wide sword with a dark blue sheath, and its hilt had the detailing of a trident. 

“Min-Jun received a letter! We have to make port in Portland! The Blacks and Greyback were spotted off the coast of Dorset!” She lowers the rope ladder and opens the small gate, “Get your tail up here!”

Remus catches the ladder with ease and pulls himself up onto it, “What’s the sudden hurry? We’re currently off the coast of Dorset ourselves.” He comments, looking back up to his friend. 

“Quinn’s family lives in Portland, he thinks they’ll be going after them!” Opal replies, tossing down a blanket for Remus to dry his scales with.

Remus winces as the blanket lands upon his head, frowning as it blocks his view. Pulling the soft cloth from his head, he sets to work on drying himself and his scales, “But why would they go after his family?” He yells out. 

Opal pauses, a somber look upon her face as she watches Remus make his way up the rope ladder with his two legs, scales now nowhere to be seen. She shakes her head as he reaches the deck, “I don’t know. But I think something’s wrong.”

Two-quarters of an hour pass with The Dragon’s Pearl sailing at full speed to Portland. The sea seemed to be at their side that night, the sound of cannon fire reached the members of the crew. The lifeboats were lowered with First mate Sandoval and Remus inside one of the boats. 

Remus’ eyes widened when he saw the pitch-black sails of The Ophiuchus which could barely be seen from a distance. The ship’s colors had a black flag with a white skull with a snake coming out of an eye socket. The Blacks. The ancient pirate ship passed down from generation to generation of Blacks. Rumors and tales continuously traveled from sailors aboard many ships about the family, the ship gaining the nickname of Grimmauld amongst the gossiping sailors. Remus had heard many tales himself in the past. 

The Blacks were ruthless in their pliage for gold, leaving no survivors. There were tales of The Ophiuchus battling The Dragon’s Pearl when Captain Orion Black attempted to steal the other Captain’s ship. Although Captain Hua was young, he forced the Blacks to flee when their ship suffered too much damage. The Captain of The Dragon’s Pearl had given them a warning years ago that should he ever see them again, he would kill the Captain of The Ophiuchus.

The boats reached the docks before everyone ran up to the small town of Portland. Quinn cut down any pirate who foolishly stood in his way. Remus followed close behind, sword drawn at the ready, and cut down any pirate who tried to go after Quinn whilst the man’s back was turned. Remus had grown used to the occasional battle, but hardly ever were the stakes this high. Opal and Captain Hua had stayed on the ship with a skeleton crew, while the other sailors joined Remus and Quinn to shore. 

Remus stopped in his tracks when one of the pirates was running straight for him. With the sword in his hand, Remus quickly stabbed the pirate in the abdomen before pulling his sword free and running to catch up with Quinn. Who was running up a hill towards the Lighthouse faster than Remus had ever seen the man move. 

Up close the lighthouse was rather beautiful for its old age, time had been kind to it, yet the years have clearly made their marks all throughout the house. The lighthouse more than likely had many stories to tell. Standing tall with red and white patterns, a small quaint cottage at the base of the lighthouse became visible as Remus neared the property. The house was alight with shadows dancing across the windows as pirates breached the door, the sound of clanging swords could be heard coming from inside the house. Quinn cut down pirates until he finally managed to enter the house. 

Quinn’s eyes widened as he surveyed the state of the house, there were countless pirates from both the Black’s and Greyback’s sailors engaged in sword fights. There was hardly a break as he entered the fray of battle, cutting down unsuspecting men from behind and never letting his guard down.

A middle-aged woman with black hair tied into a messy bun, bright brown eyes, fair skin, and rosy lips gripped the rapier in her hand tightly as she slashed down another pirate. She twirled expertly, her white nightgown and dark robe twirling with her, to dodge a blow from another pirate before she stabs them, she pulls the sword free before she raises it to the man who just entered the cottage, freezing as her eyes widen in surprise. “Quinn!” She exclaimed before her eyes darted to a pirate behind him who began to stir awake. 

He smiles at the exclamation before following her line of sight, turning behind him he sees the pirate that began to stir awake. Flipping the hilt of his sword in hand, he stabs the newly conscious pirate in the chest before turning back to the woman, “Mother are you alright?” He looked over the cottage, objects just laying scatter on the floor before he looked back to his mother. 

“I’m perfectly alright, it’s your father I’m worried about, that blasted Greyback cornered him to the basement!” The woman turned her gaze to the young man who just reached the door, quickly assessing him before offering him a small nod. “And you must be Remus.”  

Remus nods in return, “I am. How did you-” He cuts himself off as the answer was obvious and gives his First mate a pointed look, “Quinn. You’ve told them about me haven’t you?”

“Remus. Who do you take me for? Of course, I did.” Quinn mirrors the same pointed look back, “How else do you think Min-Jun and I were able to help you as a child?” He looks back to his mother, “We better move quickly. Hopefully, father is using the basement to his advantage.”

“Quinn, this is your father, of course, he is.” The woman turns to a door that leads to a staircase to the basement. Quickly lifting her skirt the woman rushed down the stairs. 

The three rush down the stairs and into the large dimly lit basement, which could only be described as a very large study with storage. Bookshelves lined the walls and the shelves themselves were stacked with a variety of mythical things one would only believe to be within the tales. Color bottles and vials littered the shelves of the room, various plants were in every corner of the room. In the center of the basement, a large man with a cutlass scoured the room with a harsh glare for the man who was hiding. 

The man wielding the cutlass was large, nearly the height of Min-Jun and Quinn, he had a vicious looking face, with very long matted grey hair in dreads, a scar going across his right eye, the iris pale compared to its twin which was pitch black. His left ear had a gold hoop earring, his teeth were visible as he sneered at others who interrupted his dual. 

Remus’ eyes could only widen as he looked upon the large man, his breathing quickening and grip tightening on his sword. Every part of him grew defensive and fearful, his instincts screaming at him to get out. To run. He’s heard of this man before, Fenrir Greyback, a notorious and ruthless hunter of mers alike, capturing and selling mers for profit, or simply to just experiment on them. Other times he’d simply slaughter any merfolk he could find.

Greyback’s knuckles looked raw and battered with blood as he gripped his weapon tightly, his long yellowish nails were easily spotted as his right hand pressed against his chest, a wound with fresh blood seeping through his grey shirt. “This isn’t over.” He snarled before he ran out the basement door. 

Hidden behind a bookcase, was a middle-aged man with tousled red-brown hair with long bangs parted to the left, light-colored skin, and blue eyes. He wore a simple navy blue shirt underneath a grey robe, light brown pants, and dark brown boots. Eyes trained as he watched the burly man closely, sword drawn at the ready to continue the duel. He made no motion to move as Greyback snarled in warning, back pressed flush against the wood until he could hear the pounding footsteps a safe distance away. 

Relaxing marginally, he exits his retreat behind the bookcase and sighs, “That man is repulsive.” He mutters under his breath.

“You’re not wrong about that father.” Quinn chuckles as he gently pats his father’s shoulder. 

“Why would Greyback come all the way out here? Why would he attack you?” Remus looked at the older man.

“Probably because my husband has something he wants.” The older woman looks to her husband. “Are you alright?”  

The older man looks to his wife and nods, “I’m alright. If anything Greyback’s in much worse shape. That wound is going to leave quite a scar if untreated.”

“What was he after?” Remus looked between the older couple. 

“Something no one should know exists.” The woman looked around the room. Muttering under her breath at the state of the room. “But rumors are a powerful thing, especially when they hold truths.” 

“And especially if it makes you incredibly well known in the nautical world.” The man continued with a sigh. Moving aside his robe, he pulls free a rather thick leather book from an inner pocket and looks down at it. “He’d be a fool to think I’d just leave it lying about.”

Remus’ eyes looked over the leather book. At first glance, it was nothing out of the ordinary, but Remus knew better than to judge a book by its cover. It was what’s inside the book that Greyback took a slash to the chest in order to obtain. And failed. Whatever information that was contained inside the book was important. Why else would such a siege upon this small home occur? Enough to bring both Greyback and the Blacks themselves here. 

“This book is the only one in existence.”  The woman looked at Remus as she stood beside her husband. “It’s about your kind.” Gently taking the book from her husbands’ hands, she holds the book to Remus. “My husband wrote everything he learned about the magical creatures of the sea.” She smiles as she encourages Remus to take the book. 

“About my kind…” He repeats at a whisper before a realization comes to mind, amber eyes widening at the thought, “That’s why he wanted the book. To hunt more merfolk.” A cold shudder runs down his spine at the thought of Greyback getting his hands upon this book. No wonder the older man fought to protect it with his life. Mers alike would be in even more danger than in the past. And after seeing the man in person, Remus felt as though the rumors didn’t give any accurate insight as to how gruesome the pirate actually appeared, and the snarling tone of his voice would most likely echo in his mind for days. 

At the older man’s nod in confirmation, he looked back at him. “How long have you been working on this?” Remus asked as he took the book, with careful hands.

“Many years. I was a bit younger than you when I first started writing the beginning pages.”

Remus looks down to the worn leather book and opens to a well-kept page, Fantastic Nautical Creatures, by Newt Scamander. Remus’ eyes widen at the title and familiar name, pausing mid-turn of a page. Wait. Remus looks at Quinn with wide eyes, before he looks back to the older couple. 

“You’re Newt Scamander,” He looks to the woman, “And you’re Porpetina Scamander!” 

“Please, call me Tina dear.” She rubs Remus’ arm in a comforting manner. 

Remus looks to Quinn, an unreadable expression upon his face. Quinn had called them mother and father. That means… “You’re their son?!” 

“Quinton Scamander is my real name,” Quinn answered with a simple shrug. “Sandoval was the first thing I could come up with when you asked for my name. I’m not exactly used to keeping an alias.” He looks at his parents. “Why couldn’t you have just kept it at Quinn?” 

“And leave the Scamander tradition of giving horrible names? I couldn’t possibly.” Tina chuckled.

“Oh, you wound me, mother. What a way to keep tradition.” Quinn replies with a wince. 

“It’s not like my family did any better.” Tina retorts just as the sound of cannon fire boomed, echoing throughout the basement. Tensing, everyone turned their heads to the back door, and with a nod from Newt, they exited the damaged basement and headed to the cliffs.

As the group ran back towards the shoreline, Remus could see The Dragon’s Pearl exchanging cannon fire with The Ophiuchus. The ships both suffered blows from the other, only the Dragon’s Pearl wasn’t on fire. And what appeared to be Min-Jun, swinging on a rope, from the Ophiuchus back to the Dragon’s Pearl.

Quinn only groaned at the sight. “And he gives me lectures about swinging from a rope.” Hypocrite. “Why are you like this…” He mumbled under his breath.

Tina and Newt only chuckled as their son scowled at the captain. They ran to the docks just as the Ophiuchus began to make their retreat, and the Dragon’s Pearl making its way to the loading docks. Opal was the first rush down to welcome Quinn and Remus back. 

Quinn had a strange feeling, one that he couldn’t place as he looked over Opal. Relieved that the woman wasn’t injured in the crossfire, although he was well aware that she could easily handle herself. “Ti synévi?” What happened? he had asked.

“To shorten it: Min-Jun snuck onto Greyback’s ship and found two gorgónes. Mermaids. Brought them back to The Dragon’s Pearl, then snuck onto the Ophiuchus, rescued the second Black heir and brought him back as well.” Opal said with a shake of her head, “How that was possible, I have no idea.” 

“Sounds about right,” Newt replied with a chuckle.

The older couple looked at their son, who had never told them he learned and spoke greek. Newt and Tina looked at each other before sharing a knowing smile. Tina looked to the woman with the greek accent. “I’m Tina Scamander, Quinn’s mother. I wonder why my dear son would fail to mention a lovely lady such as yourself in his letters?” She turns her head slowly to glare at Quinn, who found the sea far more interesting at the moment. Tina looked back to the young woman. “What is your name dear?” 

Opal watched Quinn’s gaze quickly turn to the sea in embarrassment. Oh this awkward man. She fought the urge to tease the poor man, there was time to mess with him another time. Not in front of his parents. She smiled as she looked at Tina. “Opal Teresi. It’s nice to meet you.”

Remus looked to Quinn with a teasing smirk, “Really? You mention me in your letters but not Opal?” 

“Shut. Up.” Quinn says with wide eyes that seemed to promise pain with an unnaturally wide smile.

“You’ll have to write to me dear, Quinn hardly ever writes what’s going on in his life. I have to rely on Min-Jun for that.” She tsks she pats Opal’s hand affectionately.  

“I will,” Opal replies with a nod. 

“May I see them?” Newt asks the young woman. “The mermaids.” 

The young woman pauses for a moment and looks to Newt, “They’re terrified, so please. If there’s any way you could help.”

“Maybe I can get them to calm down?” Remus suggests looking to Opal and Newt. 

“That may be for the best.” Opal agrees, “We better hurry, Min-Jun wants to leave as soon as possible. Before the Blacks notice their son is missing.”  

Opal leads the group to the cabins, walking past many doors until they finally stop at one door with a circular window. Remus peered inside and froze when a pair of glaring eyes locked to his. Inside the room, there was a tall beautiful Asian woman with wet long dark brown hair, brown eyes, fair skin, and bright red lips. She looked to be about Opal’s age. Her tail was a dazzling array of soft blue scales that looked like misshapen spots, with white scales as the base, her fluke was nearly a translucent shimmery white. Her skin was pale, her arms were wrapped tightly around the smaller mer. Her tail coiled around them protectively. Remus nearly gasped. The mermaid only clutched the child tighter, her glare never leaving Remus’ face.

The mer in her arms was tiny. A child, who couldn’t have been older than four. The mer child had short soft silky black hair that was in disarray, brown eyes, light sun-kissed skin. The child clung tightly to the older mermaid's neck, their tail had pale teal and shimmery white scales with the same patterns as the older mermaid, safely tucked under her arms. The mer child’s shoulders were shaking, pearls littered the blankets beneath them. Tears. They sat alone in the room, laying on top of a few spare blankets for the cabin beds.

Remus’ gaze was pulled away at the sound of running footsteps, a sailor running past them in haste, to the infirmary. On impulse, Remus followed the sailor as they walked through the door. 

There Min-Jun sat on a chair, looming over a deathly still figure, his face pale. Min-Jun was holding the still figure’s hand. 

Remus gulped, scared to find out who the figure was. “Who…” 

Min-Jun looked up to see Remus. With pained eyes he looked back down to the figure. Gently putting the cold hand to rest on their chest. 

“Ethan’s dead.” 

.

Tag List: (Let me know if you wish to be added!)

@whataboutmyfries

@sunflowerfox87

@spookypotato​

[isoscele]

Lumberjanes Week Day 2 - Magical Creatures

.

It can be boring, learning to tie a knot. Seafarin’ Karen has sympathy for the kids who just can’t sit still, can’t twist their fingers right, lose track of the turns of the rope. She’s got a steady store of work songs saved for those moments when the twitchier ones start to shift around. That part everyone likes; you don’t become a Lumberjane without harboring some secret need to be a part of something bigger than yourself.

Sometimes, though, they’ll ask for a story. She’s got plenty of those, too. It used to be that she wasn’t so good at telling them. Couldn’t get the feeling across--the way the ocean opens out in front of you like an empty hand, and you can’t decide which of your lonelinesses is in the driver’s seat today. Like most things, though, she’s had a lot of practice, and she can now proudly say that she can captivate any audience of preteens.

Sometimes, there’s a kid who has a few more questions. It’s always the ones with the bitten nails, whose skin is a little tighter under the eyes like they haven’t been sleeping. The ones who scan the horizon, heartbeat-quick, when nobody’s looking. They want to know if she’s ever run into anything she really can’t explain, anything that the pre-dawn shadows still sometimes take the shape of. 

And--well, okay. 

One more story can’t hurt.

.

What you may not realize about going to sea to seek your fortune is that, in the single act of pushing out from shore, you’re giving up control completely. Maybe you’re used to that--maybe you live with three generations of women who talk about the family blemishes through clenched, smiling teeth and shave with religious devotion. Maybe it’s better this way.

Still, the day will come when you wake up just before the first fingers of dawn pry open the horizon, and your brain will feel like a shipwreck and you will realize that you have misplaced several months of your life.

You won’t know where they went. They can’t have drowned, or marooned, or beached themselves on the rocks. You can’t have just set them down and forgotten where you put them. Only yesterday, you were falling asleep to a sickening heat and a whale song that blanked out your thoughts, and now you are very far away and somewhere in the future and your arms are covered in tentacle-shaped scars that you cannot recall getting. Your galley is stacked with messages in bottles. Your deck is littered with broken glass.

The moon is waxing. You check every time you look up, more out of habit than necessity because yours is a misaligned curse. The air is frigid, and as you watch it starts to snow. You had forgotten that it could snow in the ocean. For a moment, you wonder if you have accidentally left the planet, if you have sailed all the way to some other world where everything is twice as beautiful and there is no land and nothing except for you and the water and the snow.

You should be freezing, but your body is used to these temperatures. It has, it seems, acclimated without you. Still, you rub your arms, note the patchiness of your skin. Your teeth are longer, and sharp enough to saw through rope, but you don’t pay that part any mind. You came here to become something else, after all.

And so you let the snow, golden in your lantern-light, fill your vision until you can’t see anything but the white fog of your breath and the black of the sea. And then you go into your cabin and make yourself some hot cocoa.

You almost fall asleep like that, hands curled around your mug, listening to the gentle shh-shh of water slapping the sides of your boat. You almost dream--jellyfish the size of islands, driftwood blackened by the scrawl of a different language. Carving shaky maps into the sycamore-sized shark tooth lodged in the side of the hull, your pocketknife slipping against its plaque. Singing sea chanties under your breath, all too aware of the attention they might draw.

You’re startled from your spot when the boat starts to rock, faster and with more strength than you’ve ever felt. You stumble out to the deck, hand still curled protectively around your cold cocoa, but the moment you burst through the doors your entire world flashes white.

Your foot catches on a patch of melted snow, and you go down hard.

For a moment, writhing in the unearthly light, you’re certain that you’re dead. Maybe you died in the months you forgot, woke up without knowing you were supposed to be a ghost. Maybe this is the ocean’s way of reminding you.

The light is so bright that it makes every bone in your body warp with pain. It bends the world around you. Even the horizon and the ocean and the moon, the three fixtures by which you’ve lived your life, crumble into nothing under its gaze.

You don’t realize you’re shouting until another voice cuts into yours, one as deep and loud as a whale song.

WHAT DID YOU SAY, she says. 

You squeeze your eyes shut. Angel, alien, something in between. The deep, finally getting its jaws around you. “What are you?”

She doesn’t respond, so you look up again. It’s stupid to, but you can’t help it. 

The light hasn’t dimmed at all, but your eyes are adjusting a little. You can just make out her outline.

She’s huge, and wrapped entirely around your ship. Most of her body is black and slick and leathery, and her hands are webbed, cupping the sides of the boat like a child holding a toy.

The light, with all its infinite and terrible brightness, dangles from a stalk on her forehead. Behind it, you can just make out her teeth.

You understand two things at once, flat on your back with snow scavenging your skin and the light burning into your eyes. One, anglerfish are only ever found in the deep, built to hypnotize fish who have never seen light.

Two, you must therefore now be in the deep. It doesn’t matter that your head’s above water, that the moon must still be pulsing weakly somewhere above you. In some way, in some world, you have found yourself in the deep.

Here is another thing you may not realize about going to sea to seek your fortune: there will always be a hole in your maps. You will sketch coastlines into a thousand pieces of paper, the underside of the table, the loose skin of your hands, and there will always be a spot where the ink never dries. Where your finger skates across the surface, landing on the other side. 

A patch of sea, no bigger than the pad of your finger, that balks all attempts to be charted.

In this no-man’s-land, the anglerfish woman will pick you up with one clammy hand, hold you up to her enormous, pearly eye. The flesh of her fingers will press against you in damp sacks. She will smell so much like salt that even you, who have smelled nothing else for years, will find yourself unconsciously leaning closer. 

Bioluminescent strands of hair extend from her chin and stomach and the baulds of her knuckles, tracking slow lines through the snow. Her eyes will follow you, huge and pale and glistening. Her teeth--God, you can’t even think about her teeth. Her teeth must look the way the ocean does to a person who has never seen the ocean. The way the stars do to a newborn animal just opening its eyes. 

Her light sways, flurried by an endless smudge of snow. She’s absolutely, unfathomably beautiful.

YOU ARE VERY STRANGE, she says. AND VERY WARM.

You can’t speak. You can’t remember if you ever could.

YOU ARE TOO SMALL TO HAVE SURVIVED THIS FAR. BUT HERE YOU ARE.

“Here I am,” you manage. “I’m--I’m very glad to be here. With you.”

Silence. She circles your boat, holding you aloft. YOU MUST BE STRONG.

You don’t know if this is an observation or a piece of advice. Regardless, you nod. You can feel your bones stretch, wanting to shift. You don’t know what that means, the way the oldest thing inhabiting your body aches to be with her. 

You lean against her massive ridge of wrist. The ocean laps at your sides, seeping in through the gaps of her fingers. The snow, lit both by the moon and by her, blisters across your skin. Here, you feel both all-consumed and all-consuming. You feel wild, invincible, incalculably small.

But you are a guest here, and it’s time for you to remember that.

“Would you like some hot cocoa?”

.

One last thing you may not realize about the sea is that it changes when you aren’t looking. 

Years later, when your skin is rougher and your muscles are harder and your brain chemistry has begun to lean towards the wilderness, you will again seek out the holes in your maps. Driven only by the salt under your nails and a mad memory of light, you will station yourself at the mast and wait to lose some time.

But instead of ocean, instead of massive hands and beautiful teeth, you will find yourself in the middle of a lake surrounded by forest.

Again, your body will know this landscape like its own. You won’t be afraid, even as you stare into the shallows. 

And then, maybe, a woman will emerge from the treeline, her hair perfectly coiffed, her shirt starched, badges stretched across her chest like so many scales. 

And maybe she will look at you like she has never been less surprised in her life. And she will open her mouth, and she will say--

but this story’s run long. Seafarin’ Karen can read an audience with the best of them. The kids are shifting around again, and the knots look great, and it’s almost time for their hike, anyway. She should probably let them go.

With any luck, they’ll have a good summer. It’s the only hope she holds onto, these days. 

[newsies-of-corona]

Corona’s #1 Hotspot

Word count: 5,562

(This started out as a Crack AU but basically evolved into being more deep and meaningful 😅)

Huge thanks to the gc for helping me develop this idea!

Captain Eugene Fitzherbert was lounging in a chair in his office, reading yet another “peace disturbance” report. There had been a huge club that sprang up a week ago, and the citizens in the town were not having it.  He had gotten reports of the situation every day since the party started, but none of the reports said anything about where the club was located.  And the strange part of all of it was that people refused to tell him. The endless notices were stacked high up on his desk and were starting to spill on the floor. 

Eugene waved around the paper he was reading in a sarcastic manner.

“Mr. Captain there’s a disruption happening, but we aren’t going to tell you where or when! You get to figure that out as part of your job!”   

Just then he heard a knock on the already open door.

“How’s the Captain of the Guard life treating you, Fitzherbert?” Cassandra asked, cynically, picking up one of the notices on the ground.

“Cass. Even better,” Eugene replied, rolling his eyes. “Oh, you know, it’s just great.  Except for the fact that no one in this kingdom is able to be specific!” Eugene yelled.

Cass simply laughed.

“Yeah, that’s one of the best parts of the job: the mystery factor.”

“This is not just a normal mystery, Cassandra.  I have no idea who is running this club or who’s involved and- oh wait this is exactly like a normal mystery.”

“Precisely,” Cassandra replied. “I’ve actually heard some reports about this party around the area as well.  As it turns out, it spreads much farther than just Corona.”

“Well great.  Now I’ve gotta go searching throughout the entire seven kingdoms! Way to lighten the load, Cassan-”

“Not so fast.  I’ve been collecting some clues over the past few days, and the party is definitely happening in Corona.   Apparently, it’s more of an ‘undercover’ kind of club.  There’s a password to get in and everything,” the woman told him.

“That’s all well and good, but how does that help me in any way?” Eugene asked, standing up.

“Because...I know the password, the route to get in, and I have a reason to believe that the party is being run by someone within these very walls,” she added mysteriously.

Eugene walked over to her, the notice in hand.

“Wow.  As much as I hate to admit it, that was actually a lot of help.  If you don’t mind my asking though, how do you know all of this?”

Eugene figured that Cassandra may have had connections going through a long line of people since she had been gone “finding herself” and probably knew some people by now.  She decided to come back to Corona to visit yesterday, and he had to admit it was nice to have her back.  Maybe solving this mystery together would feel like old times.

To his surprise, however, Cassandra simply put one of the notices on the table and flipped it around backward.

“Pencil?” she said, more like a command than an ask.

Eugene looked at her in disbelief and gave her a pencil that was sitting next to her hand.

“Do you really want me to do everything for you?” 

“It’s more fun that way,” she replied.

Cassandra rubbed the pencil lead onto the paper, revealing some sort of map.  As she rubbed a little further, words began to appear.  Eugene guessed that that was the password.

“How did you figure that out?” Eugene asked dumbfounded.

“It’s a basic rule, Fitzherbert.  Always look for more clues in any way that you can.”

Under further inspection, the map seemed to be a layout of Herz De Sonne’s tunnels that ran under Corona.  There was only a select few who knew about those tunnels, so Eugene could see where Cassandra’s reasoning had come from.

“Okay, so what’s our strategy here? Interrogation? Good cop, bad cop?” He asked, rubbing his hands together.

“You basically just said ‘interrogation’ twice and no.  I was thinking of something a little more discreet...”

~

“Rapunzel, can you hand me the wrench over there?” Varian asked in a muffled voice from underneath his machine.  

Rapunzel had come into Varian’s workspace that morning to see how the hot water machines were coming along.  It was Varian’s second week as Royal Engineer, and she liked to check on him just to see how things were going, and to make sure he wasn’t under too much stress. Varian was just finishing up his last machine, and he’d been enjoying the princess’ company through the whole process. He had gladly put Rapunzel to work the second she showed interest since she was one of the only people he actually trusted to handle his alchemy.

“Sure thing, Var!” Rapunzel replied as she tossed him the tool.

Varian grabbed the wrench and twisted in the last bolt with satisfaction. 

The engineer stood up to admire his handiwork as he slid his goggles back to the top of his head.  

“Done!” He exclaimed.

As soon as those words escaped his mouth, there was a loud explosion, and bolts shot out everywhere. The princess and the alchemist's hair shot up from the blast.

After a moment Varian let out a sigh.

“On second thought, we’re going to need that wrench again, heh,” he gestured to the tool that had flown to the other side of the room.

Rapunzel laughed and helped him pick up the remnants of the blast.

Eugene and Cassandra walked in to find the mess, and Eugene immediately starting to help with the cleanup process without a second thought.  Ever since Varian had become the Royal Science Nerd, it was a normal occurrence to walk into an explosion.

“Hey, Sunshine!” Eugene called to Rapunzel.

“Hairstripe,” he added to Varian, who waved.

“Cass and I were talking about investi-”

Cassandra elbowed him.

“Er, I mean going to an event tonight.  How does that sound to you?”

Rapunzel perked up and walked over to him.

“An event? Sounds fun! What kind of event?”

“We’ll explain on the way, Raps,” Cassandra added. It’s kind of more of a...secret thing.”

Varian also perked up at this but said nothing.

“Ooh sounds exciting! Can we invite Varian too?” Rapunzel asked.

“Well-“ Cassandra started.

Varian cut her off.

“It does sound fun, princess, but I’m pretty slammed here as it is, heh,” Varian said, gesturing to the mess around him. “I’ll probably be working all night.”

Rapunzel frowned a bit and went over to comfort Varian.

“You don’t have to feel pressured to fix all of this by tonight. You have a lot of time before the actual inspection next week,” she told him.

Varian shrugged.

“Yeah I know I just like to get my work out of the way, heh.”

Eugene walked over and ruffled the boy’s hair.

“Don’t work yourself too hard, kid,”

Varian laughed nervously.

“Haha, I’ll try not to,” he replied with a slight smile.

Ruddiger jumped up and grabbed the wrench out of Varian’s hand, running away with it in his mouth.

“Gah! Ruddiger!” Varian called running after him, “Give that back! It’s not an apple!” 

The remaining group laughed at the boy.  Varian had had his dark times, but he was still just a dorky kid at heart, and they all loved him for it.

~

“Who’s ready for lunch?” Lance called out the window in a sing-song voice.

“Oh! Me, Me!” Angry answered from the ground.

“I’m hungry as a wolf! Catalina said, darting into the treehouse as soon as Lance called them in.

She briefly changed into her werewolf form and let out a little growl, making her dad jump.

“Sorry!” She exclaimed as she sat down.

Lance warily set a sandwich in front of her.

“How do I keep forgetting that you can do that?” He asked.

Angry walked inside with three other people trailing behind her.

“Don’t look at me! They just followed me in here!” Angry retorted when Catalina gave her a look.

“Lance, buddy! Can you spare some chow for some poor lost travelers?” Eugene asked his best friend.

Lance turned around to face his visitors.

“Eugene! Princess! Oh and is that Cassandra? Good to see you all again!”

“Hi, Lance! And hello girls! Where have you all been? We miss you around the castle,” Rapunzel told them.

“We’ve been here, Princess.  I’ve definitely been busy taking care of these girls.  No one said being a father would be easy,” he laughed.

“Hey! it’s pretty much only Angry who gets into trouble!” Catalina yelled.

“I’m not the one who can grow claws and a tail!” Angry bit back.

“See what I mean?” Lance told them.

Rapunzel giggled.

“Well just know that you’re always welcome at the castle anytime!” she exclaimed.

“Well only if it’s alright with the honorable Captain Eugene Fitzherbert,” Lance mocked Eugene.

The Captain slapped his friend on the back.

“Of course it is, mighty Lance Strongbow, father of two,” Eugene retorted sarcastically.

Lance blankly looked at him.

“Yeah you are never saying that again,” he scoffed.

“Agreed,” Eugene said quickly, taking his hand off.

Cassandra only laughed cynically, which Eugene tried to avoid.

“Now about lunch, I only made enough for the girls and myself but I’m sure I could make some more-”

Rapunzel cut him off.

“It’s alright Lance.  We had lunch at the Capitol.  We actually stopped by with an invite for you all!”

Cassandra nudged Eugene again.

“Oh, that’s right! We’re going somewhere tonight, just a small outing, and we were wondering if you and the girls would like to go,” Eugene stated.

Lance and the girls shared a hurried glance.

“Ah. I’m sorry Eugene.  As much as we’d love to go, we’re having a family game night tonight.  It’s a very important ordeal,” Lance phrased carefully.

“A game night, huh? What kind of game?” Cassandra asked suspiciously.

Lance struggled to answer her question until Angry spoke up.

“It’s a...card game! One that we made up on the first day we moved here.  It’s actually a deck that Lance kept from the orphanage so it’s very sentimental.  It  serves as a reminder of the family bond that we have created and how we will always love each other no matter what.”

Catalina and Lance gaped at her, and Rapunzel gave her a big hug.

“Aww, you guys that’s amazing! Sounds like such a great family activity! We’ll leave you to it!” the princess exclaimed.

Cassandra objected.

“Wait, Raps maybe we should-”

“Thank you so much for stopping by!” Lance said, while practically pushing them out the door.

“I don’t think-” Cass started.

Catalina slammed the door quickly, and the group let out a sigh of relief when Rapunzel and gang were finally gone.

“You are one good liar,” Lance smiled at Angry.

She gave him a sly smile.

“Well, I did learn from the best!”

~

“Believe me, it’s Lance. He was acting way too strange back there,” Cass told Eugene when they got back to the palace.

“Oh, that’s just like you Cassandra. Going after my best friends.”

Cass scoffed. “Though it may be hard to get through your head, this isn’t actually about you, Fitzherbert. You seriously don’t see all the obvious clues?” she asked condescendingly.

Rapunzel heard their fighting and stepped in the middle of them to break it up.

“Woah, woah, slow down you guys! I’m not quite sure what this is all about, but you heard what Angry said, Cass. They’re having a special family game night and it’s understandable why they couldn’t come,” Rapunzel told her sympathetically.

“Raps, trust me, it’s all a cover-up! It has to be Lance,” Cass repeated.

“Cassandra I have to side with Eugene on this one.  I mean, being a parent is hard work...” Rapunzel trailed off.

“Ugh, fine. But when we get to the party and it really is Lance, I can’t wait to see the looks on both of your faces,” Cass jeered.

~

Once Eugene and Cassandra filled Rapunzel in on the whole “secret party thing,” she was thrilled and wanted to go as soon as possible. As the sun began to set, the group met up at the opening to the underground tunnels wearing cloaks with hoods to conceal their identities. They jumped down into the entrance, and Rapunzel started navigating using the map and a torch so that they could see where they were going.  She really missed her glowing hair at times like these.

“Listen, guys. I’ve been in the tunnels multiple times and they are lined with booby traps.  We have to be very carefu-”

She was cut off when Eugene stepped on a loose brick in the floor, triggering two arrows to come flying at his fiancee.  They were luckily blocked by the torch in her hand.

“Nice going,” Cassandra remarked.

“Well, that’s one down,” Rapunzel laughed nervously.

After about an hour of walking, the group neared the end of the tunnels.  They were able to make it through mostly unscathed, though Eugene did trigger his fair share of booby traps.  The map led them down one more tunnel which felt very familiar to Rapunzel, but she wasn’t quite sure how.  The tunnel ended with a ladder leading up to a trap door that the group assumed was the entrance to the party.  Eugene was holding the map now, and they waited for him to say the password so that they could get in.  Eugene glanced at the paper quizzically and cleared his throat.

“Boats.”

When nothing happened, Cassandra looked at him in disbelief.

“Boats? Are you serious? That’s the dumbest password I have ever heard.”

“It’s not like I came up with it, Cass!” 

Rapunzel heard a gear begin to turn and quickly shushed them.

“Shh guys! Listen!”

The sound of gears turning grew louder until the trap door started to slowly open.  

“Ha! I told you! Maybe this guy just has a thing about boats?” Eugene whispered.

“Does Lance have a thing for boats?” Cass asked sarcastically.

“...I’m not answering that.”

The group climbed up the ladder and in through the door, slightly scared of what they might find. 

“Remember, we are here to stop this party.  While we can have some fun, please try not to get too sucked in,” Cassandra told the couple.

~

The first thing Rapunzel noticed was the music.  It was incredibly loud for just a small band, and she saw that the instruments had been hooked up to a speaker of some kind to amplify their sound.  The room was packed with people and it was incredibly dark except for hues of pink, green, and blue light shining in all directions.  The light also seemed to be spinning somehow. Before she could tell what was actually making the room glow, she was pushed in the direction of a clump of people dancing and yelling.  Rapunzel couldn’t resist and jumped right in with the rest of them.

Eugene was the last one out of the trapdoor, and he was also pretty blown away by the sight of the event.  He saw Cassandra waiting in a corner and walked up to her.

“This is some party, huh? By the way, have you seen Rapunzel?”

Cass gestured to the mosh pit-like clump in the middle of the room.

“We already lost her,” she shrugged.

Eugene watched as Rapunzel quickly became the life of the party, and it took him back to their first day in Corona together.

“Yeah, I should have seen that coming,” he laughed. “Should we go join her?”

Cassandra shrunk back into her corner.

“Parties aren’t really my scene, but knock yourself out Fitzherbert,” she told him as she pushed him out into the crowd. 

“Just remember to arrest Lance when you find him!” Cass shouted to him.

Eugene found Rapunzel and they began dancing together as the last song ended.

Suddenly, the crowd became quiet and moved to make way for a man in a bedazzled suit holding a microphone-type device who stepped up on the stage. At first, there was only a shadow, but a spotlight flipped on and Eugene could clearly see who it was.

The Captain gasped.

“Lance?”

Cassandra hadn’t been paying attention but tuned back in when she heard that she had been right.  She quickly ran over to the couple to brag to Eugene.

“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you so much for making it out here tonight!” Lance began.

The crowd erupted into applause, including Rapunzel who was sincerely enjoying the moment.

“Let’s give a big round of applause for our band, coming all the way from the Snuggly Duckling!”

The crowd cheered once again, Rapunzel getting even more into it when she saw all the thugs on the stage.

Once the applause died down, the music started back up again and Lance brought out a flashcard from his pocket.

“And now...the moment you have all been waiting for…”

A confetti cannon exploded somewhere near the front of the stage and the lights all focused on the middle of the stage.

“The one who made the magic happen...”

“Wait what?” Cassandra whispered.

“I told you it wasn’t Lance!” Eugene whispered back.

There was a loud throat clear from behind the curtain.

“Oh excuse me, I mean the science, happen,” Lance corrected.

“The alchemist of the hour...”

The group’s jaw dropped as a red smoke bomb erupted, and a familiar kid in a huge coat and a metal mask appeared from the fog.

“Variannnnnn!”

The eccentric alchemist threw his mask into the audience, spread his arms out wide, and pasted a huge smile on his face, taking in all the praise. He really knew how to work the crowd.

“How’s everybody doing tonight?!” Varian called out to the crowd.

Varian took an alchemy ball in his hand and threw it in the air, making a shower of some sort of blue potion fall around everyone.

The crowd cheered loudly in response, but Rapunzel, Cassandra, and Eugene were still trying to figure out what was happening.

“Varian! Varian! Varian!” The crowd chanted.

“Oh, please let’s cheer for something that’s really worth cheering for!” Varian called out. “Alchemy! Alchemy!”

“Alchemy Alchemy!” The crowd joined in.

“That’s what I’m talking about!” Varian unleashed another bomb of color, dousing everyone in purple this time.

He signaled the band.

“Let’s get this party started!”

~

“Hot fizzy chocolate! Get your hot fizzy chocolate right here, folks!” Angry called out.

Rapunzel stood in shock as the party moved around her.

“Varian?” she asked in disbelief.

“Varian,” Angry replied nonchalantly as she handed the princess a drink.

Angry and Catalina were going around the room with plates of ham sandwiches, and the famous “fizzy hot chocolate.”

“Family game night. Sure...” Rapunzel trailed off upon seeing them.

She took a sip of the drink in her hand and was delighted by the sweet taste.

“Oooo! This is delicious!”

~

Cassandra was pacing around on a space on the floor, trying to figure out how she guessed wrong.

“All of this sleuthing the whole day just to find out that Varian is the party animal? How does that make any sense?”

A blond-haired boy not much older than the famed alchemist heard her statement and scooted up next to her.

“Haha, no, no, no. Goggles isn’t the party animal.”

He turned her to face the stage to see Varian throwing Ruddiger, covered in glowing alchemy, into the crowd.

“That is.” He smirked.

“Make way for the party animal!!” Someone random shouted.

Cassandra just stared, completely dumbfounded.

~

Meanwhile, Eugene was struggling to process everything that was happening.

“Hairstripe is the one- I don’t- Come on, he’s a nerd!!”

Apparently, he said the last part of that statement a bit too loudly, because the music immediately stopped and the crowd became silent.

“Looks like someone out there has challenged The Alchemist in a rap battle!” Lance announced.

“Oooooh!” The crowd said in unison.”

“What? No, I didn’t-“

Eugene looked to Varian in the corner, who was already preparing by cracking his neck and his knuckles.

Lance ushered Eugene up on the stage, his hood still obscuring most of his face.

“And what is your name good sir?” The announcer asked in a dramatic manner.

“Ah. My name. Well, which one would you like? I do have three,” Eugene replied.

Lance became very alert at this and took a better look at the man next to him.

“Eugene?”

Eugene pulled off his hood and Varian looked at him in shock.

“Eu-Eugene! Uh...hi?” Varian nervously waved.

~

Rapunzel was enjoying all of the activities that the party had to offer.  Her favorites so far were the glowing, colorful potions that exploded in her face when shaken, turning her hair different colors.  Rapunzel’s hair was now full of pink, blue, and purple and she was having the time of her life at Varian’s party.  She especially loved the middle of the crowd and all of the dancing. Everything was going well until she twirled a bit too fast, and her hood flung off of her head, exposing her to everyone.

~

Varian looked away from Eugene to see the Princess standing in the middle of the room.

“Rapunzel! You’re here too, heh,” Varian voiced nervously.

“And I’m supposing Cass-”

Cassandra threw off her hood, accidentally-on-purpose, smacking the smart aleck kid next to her.

The whole room went quiet, and the crowd exchanged muffled whispers.

Varian turned back to Eugene with a defeated kind of demeanor.

“So I’m guessing you’re here to shut down the party, heh.” He looked down and nervously held his arm across his body.

Eugene was about to say something but stopped himself when he looked around. He saw a whole group of people watching Varian, waiting for what he was going to do or say next.  For the first time in his life, Varian was actually popular and people were enjoying the talents that he had. No one was jeering at him or making him feel bad if there was a slight explosion, it was all apart of the fun. The alchemist had come so far from being one of Corona’s most wanted, and this party was a way for him to boost his self-esteem.  He could at least let it go on for one more night.

After a moment, Eugene finally spoke.

“Shut down the party? No way! The last time I checked I had a rap battle to win.”

Varian slowly looked up at Eugene and a bright smile started to form.  Eugene gave the kid a wink, making Varian laugh out of relief.

“You heard him, folks! The Alchemist vs...” Lance trailed off.

“What do you want your name to be Eugene?”

Eugene glanced at a potion on the table and stated proudly.

“How about Flynnolium.”

Varian’s face lit up for a second, but he quickly regained his smirk.

“You’re going down,” He told Eugene, playfully.

“Prepare to eat your words, kid.”

“Ladies and Gentlemen! Get ready for our next science rap battle! Flynnolium vs. The Alchemist!” Lance announced.

“Wooo!!! Go Eugene!! Go Varian!!” Rapunzel shouted.

“Yeah!” Eugene yelled, hyping himself up. “Wait, did you say science-”

“Go!”

~

Eugene was completely out of breath by the end of the rap battle, and he had lost by a lot.  He had to hand It to Varian, the kid knew his science.

“I hope I didn’t burn you too badly,” Varian joked after it was over.

“No, no. I’m okay. I’ll just have to piece my ego back together when I get back home.”

Varian chuckled and then changed his tone.

“I have to ask, why are you letting me go on with the party?”

Eugene put a hand on Varian’s shoulder.

“Well there isn’t anything dangerous going on, and it seems like it’s a good thing for you.  But I also have to ask, Varian, why did you keep all of this from us? I mean it seems like everyone in Corona knew about this club except Cassandra, Rapunzel, and me.” 

“Hey, Captain!” Pete called, walking by with a ham sandwich.

“See?” Eugene motioned to him.

Varian laughed nervously.

“Heh, well I was just...worried that you guys wouldn’t like it?  I don’t know. I mean I don’t want to lose you all as friends. I still wanted you all to come, though so that’s why I sent all of those “peace disturbance” reports as a way to indirectly invite you, heh.”

“You were the one behind those? Those drove me crazy kid! Your plan did work, though. I mean we’re all here and everyone seems to be having a great time.”

Varian started to smile a little more as Eugene went on.

“Varian, just know that we’re not just your friends, we’re your family, and we will always support you and be here for you no matter what.  You can’t get rid of us this easily,” Eugene smirked.

Varian smiled brightly

“Thanks, for saying that,” he said sincerely.

“One thing that has been bugging me all night though; where did you find this awesome club?”

Varian looked blankly at the man.

“Find? Eugene this is my house. You’re in Old Corona,” he laughed.

The man facepalmed.

“How did I miss that?” 

Varian laughed and walked over to where Rapunzel and Cassandra were talking.

“I see someone’s been having some fun with the explosives,” Varian said, pointing out Rapunzel’s hair.

“Oh, haha yes! They’re so much fun!” Rapunzel giggled.

“Ha, I’m glad you like them!” He told her.

“And how are you making the room glow like this? It’s incredible!” she exclaimed, looking around.

“The power of alchemy, heh!”

No one could tell from the darkness of the room, but Varian was blushing big time.  He had never really experienced people actually liking his inventions and alchemy, and he was glad that he could provide something for the people of Corona to enjoy after all that he put them through.

~

While Varian was occupied, Cassandra walked over to Eugene to talk to him.

“What was all of that back there? Are you making him shut down the party?” She asked.

“Well turns out Varian was actually the one behind the ‘complaints.’ He just wanted us to come but wasn’t sure how to ask.”

“Well that does sound like Varian,” Cassandra stated.

“Definitely. And I mean no one is in danger and no laws are being broken, so I just figure let the kid have some fun and some time in the spotlight.” Eugene added.

“I’m proud of you, Fitzherbert. You’re much more tolerable now than when I first met you.”

“I’m going to take that as a compliment,” Eugene laughed.

~

Cassandra turned back to Varian.

“So, you’re the one who’s behind all of the noise complaints. I should have guessed,” Cassandra remarked.

Varian laughed nervously.

“Heh, yeah.”

“Varian this party is absolutely amazing! I never knew you to be the party-planning type!

Rapunzel exclaimed.

The alchemist chuckled.

“Haha, heh, well honestly it just kind of happened! I never meant for it to turn into this.”

Eugene, Lance, and the girls walked over to where the group was sitting to join in the conversation.

“I’m sorry, Hairstripe, did you say that you didn’t mean for this party to happen? How is that even possible?” Eugene asked.

“Ooh yes! Tell them the story!” Catalina spoke up.

“Well okay.  So first what happened was I met this guy when I was traveling to Bayangor to get some special parts for a project and-”

“You talkin’ about me?” The blond boy asked, popping up directly behind Varian.

“Gah! Yes. Don’t interrupt.” Varian told him, gritting his teeth. “So then I-”

“Wait, Varian, who’s your friend?” Rapunzel cut him off.

Varian huffed.

“Everybody this is Hugo. Hugo this is everybody. So after I-”

“You’re not gonna introduce your friends to me, Goggles? Specifically that beautiful tall one in the corner?” 

Hugo winked at Cassandra who rolled her eyes.

“In your dreams, kid,” she scoffed.

Varian snorted.

“That’s Cass. I wouldn’t get too close if I were you, heh. Now as I was saying-”

“Oh, this must be the beautiful Princess Rapunzel of Corona!” Hugo exclaimed.

“Ugh, you know what, Hugo? Why don’t you tell the story,” Varian said, offended.

Hugo paid him no attention and continued on with his flirting.

“I see why people refer to you as the Sundrop,” he teased.

Rapunzel chuckled uncomfortably and Eugene shot him a death glare.

“Ha ha hello? Yeah buddy, she’s my Sundrop.”

Varian cleared his throat.

“That’s great,  now can we please get back to my stor-”

“Captain Eugene Fitzherbert, I presume?” Hugo went on.

“Yeah, kid. You’re looking at him.” Eugene stated.

“May I just say you are-”

The Captain cut him off.

“Let me guess, you’re the con-artist type who gets through life by flirting with everyone and taking advantage of people.  Trust me, kid.  That life isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”

Hugo was finally rendered speechless and Varian sighed in relief.

“Finally. Thanks, Eugene. So Hugo basically stalked me back to my house and helped me put together my newest invention, then invited a few of his ‘friends’ over and the number kept growing. Before I knew it I was running a club, heh. Lance and the girls showed up a week ago while it was happening and they wanted to be involved.  I made Lance my Emcee and Angry and Catalina got to help with the food.”

“Which has its benefits because we get to eat most of it!” Catalina added.

“Though I don’t know why it always has to be ham sandwiches. Why not turkey or something? Switch it up, V!” Angry mentioned.

“It’s a delicacy and everybody loves them. Not happening,” Varian shot back.

Hugo found his words again and spoke up.

“Just for the record, I did not stalk you. I told you I could help multiple times before following you home. There’s a difference, Goggles.”

“Eugene can you do that thing you did earlier to shut him up? It was much more peaceful five minutes ago,” Varian remarked sarcastically.

“’Goggles’ is also my nickname! Does this kid have any original ideas?” Eugene remarked under his breath.

“No. He does not.” Varian replied.

“He’s not wrong. By the way, Hairstripe is a great nickname! Might have to start using that one,” Hugo taunted, winking at Eugene.

Cassandra spoke up and interrupted their fighting.

“Varian, by the way, what does your dad think of all this?”

“And now folks, let’s give it up for our DJ, The Knight of the Night!” Lance announced.

Quirin came onto the stage wearing his whole Dark Kingdom uniform and started messing with some new sound equipment Varian had set up.

“You know, I’d say he’s pretty okay with it,” Varian laughed, pointing behind him.

“And his partner, the King of Chaos!” The emcee called out.

Edmund walked on to the stage and started DJing with Quirin. They actually put together some pretty good music.

Eugene’s jaw dropped.

“My dad is in on this too?” 

“Hello, Horace! Glad you could come!” Edmund said, pointing Eugene out in the crowd.

“It’s Eugene!”

Hugo smirked and seized his moment.

“Aw come on, Horace. Don’t look so down. It’s a party after all,” he mocked.

“Kid, I swear, I can lock you up right now,” Eugene told him.

“Jail isn’t fun,” Varian whispered from behind him.

“Under what charges?” Hugo played.

“Well, we can always start with stalking a minor, but I’m sure there are plenty more.”

“Ha!” Varian jeered.

“Oh come on, guys we’re at a party! You don’t want to spend the whole night fighting! Let’s make the most of it!”

“Fine. Truce?” Eugene asked, holding out his hand to Hugo.

“Temporary truce,” he said as he shook it.

Rapunzel dragged all of her friends, including Hugo, into the crowd and they danced and shouted until their feet hurt and their voices were sore. It was a fantastic night for all of them.

~

Varian decided when the party had ended that this would be the last night for his club.  It was a lot of work and he already had enough on his plate already. Besides, he didn’t need an adoring cheering his name to make him feel special, he had his family to remind him of that every day. 

When most of the guests left, Varian had a huge mess to clean up, but all of his friends stayed behind to help him.  He was so grateful to have such supportive and understanding companions like Rapunzel, Cassandra, Eugene, Lance, Angry, and Catalina, and he was even glad that he gained a new friend, Hugo, out of this whole ordeal. Even though the guy drove him up a wall sometimes. 

~

Varian headed into work the next day with newfound confidence, knowing for sure that he could make fully working hot water machines for all of Corona to enjoy. In the beginning, to tell the truth, Varian had been slightly intimidated to be the “official Royal Engineer,” but after seeing how everyone loved and supported him for who he was, even if there was an occasional explosion, he was completely ready to take on the position and all of its challenges with his friends by his side.  As he twisted in the last bolt on his machine, he could almost hear the crowd in the back of his mind, cheering him on.

“Varian! Varian! Varian!”

[sou-ver-2-0]

I brought this up in the theory group chat, and we basically decided that there’s a good chance of the floormasters just cutting out situations where everyone died. There’s also a decent chance of the sacrifice card being rigged to land on a non-candidate no matter what, so even if two people survive only one “wins” since non-candidates can’t win even if they live.

Based on the four non-candidates and their personal biases, there’s an insanely low chance of them choosing another non-candidate, so if timelines like that even exist they probably wouldn’t count either because nobody won. (wonder how that’ll work in chapter 3 if there even is a sacrifice, unless one of them is secretly alive and gets it again???).

We also decided that the three pairs who had bed trials probably had them in all the simulations as well while the rest of the characters mixed and matched to create different situations. This works out favorably for Meister but also might guarantee the l survival of Sara, Mishima, and Kanna as well as the death of Kugie? Unless they change tiny details between sims. That’s going off he assumption that there are AIs of the non-candidates, because the sims would be inaccurate if there weren’t.

Evidence for the sacrifice cards being rigged might be the conversation Joe and Kai had on tape, which probably has to do with this, and Gashu rigging Nao’s card which was unpredictable to the player but probably predictable behavior to Meister.

(First of all, I’m so sorry it took me this long to reply! I wanted to make sure I had time to sit down for this!)

Your theories are brilliant and well written! This was a delight to read, and I feel very grateful that you would share your thoughts and your friends’ thoughts with me. I’m happy to pass these ideas along to everyone else now. :)

I’ll try to comment on the ideas where I have something worthwhile to add:

There’s also a decent chance of the sacrifice card being rigged to land on a non-candidate no matter what, so even if two people survive only one “wins” since non-candidates can’t win even if they live.

An excellent point! This applies directly to what happened to Nao and Sara in the Massacre Ending. Nao’s role in the story shows us that it is possible for a non-candidate to survive, even with the deck stacked against them, so long as they can convince a candidate to ally with them. So if Nao had a “survival rate,” it would technically still be greater than 0.0%. However, Nao is ineligible to “win,” so Asu-Naro shows no interest in recording her survival rate.

Based on the four non-candidates and their personal biases, there’s an insanely low chance of them choosing another non-candidate, so if timelines like that even exist they probably wouldn’t count either because nobody won.

I love this train of thought! So well said! You are absolutely right about Joe, Kai, Nao, and Kugie. They each have a candidate they would save above everyone else, and as far as we know, it’s unlikely for them to become so close to each other that they would pick one among them over everyone else.

Just adding some wild speculation here--but I started imagining a hypothetical world in which Kugie miraculously survives her First Trial, and Kanna somehow dies even under Kugie’s protection. (Perhaps in one of the sub-games.) In such an odd scenario, where Kugie is forced to become a Sacrifice, I think it is most likely that Kugie would save someone who reminded her of Kanna (like Hinako or Gin). It’s also possible that she would save the charismatic Miss Sara, like Nao would, but...if I’m right that Kugie’s personality parallels Sou’s personality, then perhaps she would be the non-candidate least likely to save Miss Sara, which might give Meister an extra incentive to kill Kugie?

What if all of the children are already dead? Might Kugie even choose to save Shin?? We can’t have that, can we?!

[End of Wild Speculation]

(wonder how that’ll work in chapter 3 if there even is a sacrifice, unless one of them is secretly alive and gets it again???).

Aaahhh my brain is exhausted just thinking about such a plot twist hahaha!

We also decided that the three pairs who had bed trials probably had them in all the simulations as well while the rest of the characters mixed and matched to create different situations. This works out favorably for Meister but also might guarantee the l survival of Sara, Mishima, and Kanna as well as the death of Kugie? Unless they change tiny details between sims. That’s going off he assumption that there are AIs of the non-candidates, because the sims would be inaccurate if there weren’t.

I’m in love with this whole paragraph!! Well said!

I also wonder a lot about whether the non-candidates have secret AIs, since that would be the only way to make the sims accurate, as you said. And we know at least that Joe has an AI! I don’t think it’s unlikely, to say the least. At best, it’s even probable, though nothing is certain.

While I don’t need or expect Nankidai to explain everything about the math behind the percentage papers, I admit that the question of whether the non-candidates have AIs is something I would like him to touch upon again.

Evidence for the sacrifice cards being rigged might be the conversation Joe and Kai had on tape

I never thought about their conversation this way, but it makes logical sense. If Kai already knows that he and Joe are non-candidates, he may be telling Joe that taking the Sacrifice Card is the only way Joe could survive. An excellent theory!

Thank you once again for sharing your thoughts with me! I loved them!

[crackedoutgiraffe]

The Stars in Your Eyes

Part 2: Chapter 1 Part 2: Chapter 2 Part 2: Chapter 3 Part 2: Chapter 4 Part 2: Chapter 5

Master-list

A/N: Sorry this took so long to write. I haven’t really been in the right mindset to write this story. Thank you to everyone who comments, votes, and re-blogs! Ask to be added to the taglist.

2/20/2017

Reid was being held in the DC precinct. You spent all the time there that you could. Emily came in one morning to find you asleep on the chairs in the front office. JJ had been bringing him clothes and checking up on Diana. 

Every time you got to see him your heart broke a little more. He kept a smile on his face, but deep down you knew he was hurting. Emily made sure that you were given enough sick time so you didn’t have to leave Spence alone. 

The only day you weren’t with him was Friday. You had scheduled an appointment with your doctor to confirm your pregnancy, and she did. It was official in about 36 weeks you would welcome a brand new baby. 

“Y/N,” Prentiss called, “a really good friend of mine is one of the best defense attorneys in DC, I was hoping it was okay if she represented Reid.”

You rubbed your eyes and yawned, “I’m okay with it, but you have to ask Reid. I don’t want to do anything against his will.”

“I understand,” she sighed. “Do you want to ask him now?”

You checked your watch, it was a little late, but we really needed this lawyer, “I suppose.” You stood from the uncomfortable chair you were sleeping in and went with Emily to his cell. The door creaked open and the two of you entered the cell block. You got to Reid’s cell and saw him sitting up, wrapped in a blanket. 

“Hey,” he yawned. “You should be in the office.” 

“I'm right where I need to be, you nodded. “You ok?” 

“Yeah,” he said with a small smile on his face. “I'm ok. How's my mom doing?”

“She's doing well,” you haad been by to check on her every day for a few minutes. “JJ's been by to visit every day since your arrest. She explained everything to your mom. Cassie's been great. That makes a big difference.”

“I'm such an idiot,” when he hung his head your heart broke.

You wanted nothing more to hold him at this moment, “Don't, Spencer, don't. You were trying to help your mother.”

His eyes were sad, “I fell right into Scratch's trap.” 

“He won't win,” you reached one of your hands through the iron bars. You watched as Spence stood from his bed and walked over to you. 

“He already has,” he said as he interlocked his hand with yours. 

You smiled at his touch, “just the battle, not the war. You didn't do anything wrong.” 

“You and I both know that doesn't matter,” he looked you dead in the eyes. “All that matters is what the prosecutor can prove, and Scratch has stacked the deck against me. Even the FBI's abandoned me.”

“I know,” you brought your hands closer to you. “But we'll keep fighting.” 

“I don't even have a lawyer,” he sighed. 

“About that…” Prentiss interrupted. “I have a friend, Fiona Duncan. I've known her forever. Her father was in the foreign service, and we met in Italy when my mother was chargé d'affaires at the embassy there. After college, she was a Rhodes scholar. You'd like her. Anyway, now she's one of the best defense attorneys in D.C. I would like it if you would let me reach out to her about representing you.”

“Emily, I really, I appreciate it, but you helping me could destroy your reputation at the Bureau,” he turned toward your boss and let go of your hand.

“My battle, my choice,” she shook her head. “Please, let me help you. Tell me I can reach out to my friend.”

“Thank you,” he smiled and returned to you.

“Good,” Emily said. “Spencer, listen to me. We are gonna get you out of here, I promise.”

“Emily, I hate to ask this of you, but can we have a moment alone,” you gave her a warm smile and soft pleading eyes.

She returned your smile, “of course, I’ll be outside.” She started to make her way to the door; you didn’t talk until she had left.

“How stressed out are you?” you turned to Reid.

He furrowed his brow in confusion, “what do you mean?”

“I have some news for you, but if it’s going to cause you more stress, I won’t tell you.”

He brought your hand to his mouth and placed a soft kiss on the back of it, “whatever you have to tell me I can handle it.”

“I’m pregnant,” you blurted out. You watched as the words registered in his head. He let go of your hand. “Spencer?”

“Actually?” he asked.

You smiled, “actually.”

The mortified look on his face turned to a smile as he reached both his arms through the bars and wrapped you in a hug, “I’m going to be a dad!”

“Please keep your voice down, I haven’t told anyone else,” you sighed into whatever part of him you could.

“How far along are you?” he whispered, letting you out of the hug.

You smiled, “about four weeks.”

You watched as he dropped to his knees and put a hand on your stomach, “Hi there baby, I’m your dad.”

“And you’re going to be out in time to meet him or her,” you smiled at the love of your life kneeling on the floor. “I should let you get some sleep,” you sighed as he stood back up. He gave you a quick kiss and went to lay back on his bed. You walked toward the doors and waited for them to open. 

When you arrived back in the waiting room, you saw Emily sitting in a chair on the phone. It was implied that she was on the phone with her lawyer friend, so you decided to get some sleep at home. 

***

You woke up to a call from Emily saying that she was ready to meet with Reid. You quickly got dressed and made your way to the DC precinct. You found Emily and Fiona Duncan standing by the doors. 

“You must be Fiona Duncan,” you extended your gith hand.

She reciprocated your handshake and smiled, “that’s me.”

“I’m Y/N. Thank you for defending my husband,” you smiled as the three of you walked into the precinct. You three walked to the interview room and talked for a minute before the officer brought Reid in.

“Spencer, hello,” she extended her hand for a handshake.

“Hi,” he gave her a small wave instead of a handshake. 

“Fiona Duncan. Emily speaks very highly of you.” 

“You, too,” Reid smiled. “It's nice to meet you.”

“I'm sorry to be meeting under these circumstances,” Fiona frowned. “Emily, Y/N,  this is an attorney-client meeting. We'll need privacy.”

“Yes, of course,” you smiled.

“Are you ok?” you asked Reid before leaving. He gave you his answer with a kiss on the cheek. “All right. Bye.” The two of you were escorted back to the front desk by one of the officers. The only way you could think to pass the time was to tap your foot and pace the floor. Surely Emily was annoyed with you by now. Within an hour Fione came out of the shadows on a phone call. 

“Alright, thank you,” Fiona’s heels clicked against the floor as she walked back. “That was the AUSA they want to make a deal.” The three of you made your way to Reid in silence. 

“The AUSA has offered you a deal,” as Fiona delivered the news you watched as Reid’s face light up. “They want you to plead guilty.”

“They want me to plead guilty?” he repeated.

“To involuntary manslaughter,” Fiona sighed. “The offer’s for 2 to 5 years.”

Reid sighed, “2 to 5 years.”

“That's a lot of time,” you frowned. You tried to give him a look that said ‘hey i want you there to meet our child,’ but didn’t know if he understood. 

“I understand,” Fiona nodded. “But it's all about perspective. It's a lot more than nothing, but a lot less than 25 to life, which is what you'd be facing if convicted.”

He turned to you, “do you think I should take it?” 

“I think, given what's at stake, you owe it to yourself to carefully consider it,” you said.

“I don't think I can lie and say that I did this,” Spence hung his head. Your first reaction was to start rubbing his back. “Is that foolish?”

“No,” Fiona shook her head. “No, of course not. I don't want to see you plead guilty to a crime you didn't commit.”

“Or maybe I should cut my losses,” he looked at you. Seeming him so upset broke your heart. 

“Well, the offer is so low, is that a good sign?”Emily asked. “Does it mean that the government thinks they've got a weak case?” 

Fiona nodded, “possibly.” 

“So that's good,” you smiled. 

“Well, not necessarily,” Fiona said with a frown on her face. “It could also mean they're trying to clear the case quickly with minimal publicity. I honestly don't know what it means. And I'm not in the business of second-guessing good offers. Which this is. But I'm also not the one who will be doing time.” 

“What would you do in my shoes?” Spence raised his head and looked at Emily.

“I'm not in your shoes,” Emily shook her head. “It's a decision only you can make. Whatever you decide, I'm always in your corner.” 

We all are.

“Spencer, if you want to fight this to the end, I promise you I will bring everything in my arsenal to the battle,” the fact that Fiona was willing to fight for Spencer made you much happier. “But what I can't promise you is a better outcome than the one they're offering you today.”

Spence looked down at you. You could see the gears turning in his head, “I want to fight.”

You cleared your throat, “Fiona, can I talk to you in private for a moment?”

“Of course,” she nodded. The two of you left Prentiss and Reid alone to talk for a moment.

“I wanted to let you know that Reid and I are expecting a baby,” you fiddled with your hands and waited for her to respond.

“Y/N,” she sighed, “I am going to fight for him. I will give my all to clear his name.” 

You met her eye-line and wrapped her in a hug, “thank you.”

***

You received a call on the day of Spencer’s arraignment that they had found the knife. Emily told you that they had offered a new deal of 5 to 10 years, but Spencer declined. You grabbed your keys and made your way to the courthouse. 

When you entered you found Emily pacing the halls, “thank goodness you’re here,” she called when she saw you.

“Of course,” you wrapped her in a quick hug. “He’s still declining the offer?”

She nodded, “according to Fiona, yes.”

“That means we have to fight like hell,” you said as the rest of the team made their way to you. “I'm so glad you made it in time for the arraignment.”

“What did the kid decide about a plea?” Rossi asked. 

“I don't know,” Emily shook her head. “I'm not sure he does.”

“I can't stand the thought of him being in prison,” Garcia said.

Emily shrugged her shoulders, “but 5 years is a lot less time than 25.”

“He must be agonizing over this decision,” you sighed. 

“Well, whatever he decides, he has our full support,” Luke smiled.

“He knows that,” Emily placed a hand on you back. “It means a lot to him.” 

“We have to prove that Scratch did this,” Walked sighed.

Emily nodded, “we'll get him.” 

“They're calling his case,” you heard Fiona call from behind you. The eight of you made your way into the courtroom. You sat in the front next to Penelope. 

“Case number 149-CR 0308, the U.S. versus Reid,” the bailiff announced.

“Ms. Duncan,” the judge started, “your client is an FBI agent, correct?”

Fiona stood from her seat, “that's right, your honor.”

“You're charged with murder, which is a very serious matter,” the judge addressed Reid directly. 

He too stood from his seat, “yes, your honor.” 

“All right, Ms. Duncan, does your client wish to enter a plea at this time?” 

“He does,” she nods. 

“And how do you plead, agent Reid?” the judge asked. 

“Not guilty,” he announces. 

“Thank God,” Garcia whispered. 

“And as to bail?” the judge turns to face the other lawyer. 

He stands from his seat and adjusts his suit jacket, “the people oppose bail and request remand, your honor.” The court was filled with various sounds. You almost had a heart attack there in your seat.

“Your honor, my client presents no risk of flight,” Fiona was trying her best to defend Reid.

“That's ridiculous,” the AUSA lawyer shouted. “The defendant was arrested after fleeing the murder scene in Mexico.” 

“Those were extenuating circumstances,” Fiona sighed. “He'd been drugged against his will.”

“By failing to notify the FBI of his international travel, the defendant violated the Bureau protocol,” the AUSA lawyer’s voice was becoming very hostile. 

“My client presents no flight risk,” Fiona started. “He has deep ties in this community. His mother suffers from Alzheimer's disease and schizophrenia and lives with him. He is solely responsible for her well-being. Additionally, he's been a decorated SSA with the FBI's behavioral analysis unit for over a decade. 

“And as an FBI agent, he has contacts all over the world,” the lawyer seemed to be fed up with Fiona’s argument.

“Agent Reid would be willing to turn over both his personal and government-issued passports,” she continued.

“If he wanted a counterfeit passport, he could easily get one,” the other lawyer argued. 

“He has no criminal history,” Fiona rebutted. 

“The defendant is uniquely situated to evade law enforcement should he flee the jurisdiction.” 

She turned to face the judge, “your honor, he wants to stay here and clear his good name.”

“He should have thought about his good name before sneaking across the border,” the lawyer quipped.

“I'm prepared to present multiple law enforcement character witnesses on his behalf right now,” you listened as everyone behind you shifted in their seats. “The witnesses are here in the courtroom, all highly respected FBI agents.”

“Simmer down, Ms. Duncan,” you could hear the bitterness in the judge’s voice. “It's almost 6:00 and I'm not inclined to hear from character witnesses. Actions speak louder than words, I always say.”

“We'd be willing to abide by a curfew and strict monitoring of his whereabouts at all times,” she offered.

“Too little too late, counselor,” she sighed.

“Your honor his wife is pregnant,” Fiona finished. You saw Reid look at her and then you. You could feel the eyes of everyone in the courtroom on your back. They felt like hot knives.

“If past behavior is the best indicator of future conduct, and I do believe it is, then your client presents a flight risk. Bail is denied. The defendant will be remanded to federal custody pending trial.” You jumped at the sound of the judge’s gavel. Spencer looked back at you before he was dragged away. The panic in his eyes was enough to make your already broken heart shatter.

You stood from your seat and leaned closer to Fiona, “how long before his case goes to trial?”

“It's a complicated case. 3 months,” she shook her head before turning to face Spencer who was being dragged away in handcuffs. “Spencer, I'm sorry. I will come and see you as soon as I can.”

The rest of the night you refused to talk to anyone. The team tried to comfort you, but nothing worked. You cried yourself to sleep that night and every night after for a week.

Taglist:

@la-vie-en-amour1 @vixengustin88

[luna-jaden-shadow]

Pleading Innocent

Request - hi! if you're not super busy, can you do negan x reader where the reader is living alone in the woods and often sneaks into the sanctuary and steals supplies from the saviors? one day she/he gets caught and the saviors find out shes a girl while they thought she was a man. and negan decides not to kill her/him because he is impressed. thanks!!

Fluff

Warning - Swearing, Blood, My Bias Against Simon

Pairing - Negan X Female!Reader 

-><-

-><-

The first time you broke in it was an accident. In the middle of the night you stumbled across the large building. There were no signs of people so you cut a hole in the fence and slipped in. It wasn’t until you were inside for the first time that you knew there were people there as you almost ran into someone but quickly turned back around the corner. You wanted to get out quickly, scared of the unknown people. 

Then you found the storage room. They had shelves of canned food, clothes, bottled water. You couldn’t help but take only what you needed. You took a few things and left, tying the hole in the fence as to hopefully not get found out if they had a patrol going around. You found out that morning that they did, at the crack of dawn as you watched from afar in the trees, hidden from the sights of anyone. 

Your little camp wasn’t much out in the woods, but it was enough to keep you alive. With the supplies, you got you were sure you would be good for when fall turns into winter. You’d strung up cans on a rope around the camp to stop walkers from getting in, instead, hitting the rope and rustling the cans. It was simple, but it worked just fine for you. 

It was like a guilty pleasure, the rush when you went in the second time. You told yourself you wouldn’t but when the first snowfall came you saw yourself as not having any other choice. You took a jacket from the storage room, thick enough to keep you from freezing to death. When you were nearly caught you yelled at yourself, saying that you wouldn’t do it again. 

You did it for the third time, the middle of winter. Then the fourth after you’d been robbed by foxes. Then the fifth, then the sixth. It was spring, going into summer when you went in for what was either the tenth or eleventh time, you couldn’t tell. But you snuck back in, noticing that they’d upped their patrols, they put locks on the door. That didn’t stop you, you were almost convinced that you were a master thief in your past life. 

All you needed was water. The creek that you normally went to had a walker fallen in it a good bit up and it would take a while to be pure again. You got inside the room, softly closing the door behind you. 

Then you saw it, on the shelf by the food they had a stack of chocolate bars. You shook it off, moving to get the water. You filled your bag with bottles, shrugging the heavy bag back on and moving to leave when your stomach growled in disagreement and hunger. Echoes of voices came from outside the room and you hid, ducking behind the wall so if they came in they wouldn’t see you. The voices passed after a minute and you’d made up your mind. 

Standing on your tiptoes, you reached for just one bar, stumbling a bit off balance. One hand was reaching up, the other was holding a shelf. You managed to grab one but the moment that you did you lost your balance and fell forward, slamming into the large shelf. The wind got knocked right out of you as you rolled over onto your back, free hand over your chest that stung with pain from the impact. Your luck didn’t stop there, as when you hit it, it broke and sent lots of canned food and goods tumbling to the floor. 

You curse, trying to find it in yourself to get up, but you couldn’t, the pain too much for you. Hurried voices and footsteps drew in and you feel tears build up in your eyes, fear of what was to come finally setting in. The door to the room opens and men come in, pointing guns at you the moment that they see you. Slowly, you get your breath back, unable to move from the stinging of your chest and torso. 

An older man stands at the front of the group, a smirk on his face as he crosses his arms. “Well, well, well. Look what we got here boys, our thief. Get him on his feet.” You screw your eyes shut as they pull you up roughly. “Thought you could steal from Negan and get away with it?” He leans in, trying to get a look at your face from under the hood you had up. 

He reaches up and pulls the hood back, stirring up some whispers in the room. “Simon! Did you get that bastard?” Another man walks into the room, looking pissed off. He was fully decked out in an old school greaser look. His eyes land on you as you wheeze a bit, hand barely pressed to your chest as the two guys holding you upheld them back. “Well shit, you’re the one who’s been stealing from us?” You tried to hold your ground and look tough, though he could see that your hands were shaking. “Bring her to my room, the rest of you, fix this shit.” He eyes you for a moment before walking off. 

The two men walk you, practically dragging you to the room that the man said to. It was just you and the man in leather. He sits at the desk, feet propped up on it. “I’m sorry.” You don’t meet his eyes, unable to as you stood frozen in your spot. “The first time it was an accident, I didn’t know people were here.” He doesn’t say anything, watching you explain yourself even though he hadn’t asked you to do anything since you got into the room. “Then I needed things that weren’t in town, weren’t anywhere for miles. I’m sorry.” 

When you look down he laughs, concerning you. “Shit doll. I didn’t ask for you to explain yourself. Frankly, I’m fucking impressed that you did all that. But you stole from us. From me.” That had you guessing that you were about to die as you didn’t miss how he eyed the barb-wired baseball bat in the corner. “We could use someone like you. You don’t have to live out in the fucking wild anymore. Consider this an upgrade, and how you’re going to pay me back for everything you took.” 

You look up, meeting his eyes as you shifted a bit. You really had no other chance at the moment, so you nodded. “Thank you.” You managed out and Negan stands up, walking towards you. 

You hold your breath when he stands right in front of you. “I’m letting you know this right now doll. You cross me, you’re gonna wish I let Simon kill you when he found you.”

[ladynightmare913]

Secret of the Darkened Seas

Welcome to Chapter 3! I want to say thank you Olivia ( @asunshinepuff​ ) who is my best friend and co-author, for inviting me to create this wonderful story with her! This chapter contains many original characters created by Olivia and myself. 

This chapter holds many new faces to join us in our mermaid adventure! All credit for creation goes to each other for our respective characters because we have both spent a lot of time creating our ocs and I would dare to take credit for any of Olivia’s characters. 

Small warning, there is a minor character death. 

As always these chapters contain hidden mermaid lore included within this storyline. They will be explained overtime so don’t worry. The lore from the different types of merfolk will be taken from the book “The Secret World of Mermaids” by Francine Rose. We are not taking credit for her work. 

Now without further adieu! 

Chapter 3: A Sea of Fireworks

Three years passed as The Dragon’s Pearl sailed the seven seas. There had been many fierce battles and grand adventures as Remus learned the ways of the sword from both Captain Hua and First mate Sandoval. During the past few years, Remus found a particular fondness for literature that grew further than when he was younger. Along the way there have been many new companions to join the shipmates, and the secrets of a certain young man were revealed. A year on his own at sea taught Remus many things, but he couldn’t help but miss the company of those upon The Dragons’ Pearl. Now at seventeen years old, the once young boy has grown into a fine young man. 

Under the sea, there was a mythical creature with bright shimmering amber scales, varying in shades of accent tones from the top of his tail, to his fluke. The moonlight breached the surface of the darkened sea, the light reflected off of his amber eyes, as if they began to shine and glow under the moon’s pale beauty. The mer turned down before his arms moved forwards as he dived down deeper into the sea. The deeper he went, the darker it became. As he reached the sea floor, he swam at a leisurely pace, brushing a clawed hand against the sea grass. Looking up, the sea grass became littered with life, crabs, small, fish, seahorses, an octopus, and coral. He chuckled to himself as the fish scattered when he swam near them, a green sea turtle by his side seemed to follow him, wherever he went. It had felt too long since he had last been in the sea. 

The merman’s head turned sharply upwards as he picked up the sound of a muffled screeching noise coming from the surface. Then a muted bang before a flash of scattered gold light. With a strong flick of his tail, the floor beneath him vanished from sight as he neared the surface. 

Breaching from the water, he looks up to the familiar ship with concern, “Opal! What’s happening?!” He yells up to the deck. 

In an instant, a tall beautiful Greek woman, around the age of twenty-three, with long light brown hair, hazel green eyes, lightly tanned skin peered over the railing of the deck to respond. She was dressed in a sea blue off the shoulder long sleeved shirt that was tucked into her light brown pants, with a black corset vest on top, and black boots. At her hip was a wide sword with a dark blue sheathe, and it’s hilt had the detailing of a trident. “Min-Jun received a letter! We have to make port in Portland! The Blacks and Greyback have been spotted off the coast of Dorset!” She lowers the rope ladder and opens the small gate, “Get your tail up here!”

Remus catches the ladder with ease and pulls himself up onto it, “What’s the sudden hurry? We’re currently off the coast of Dorset ourselves.” He comments, looking back up to his friend. 

“Quinn’s family lives in Portland, and he thinks they’ll be going after them!” Opal replies, tossing down a blanket for Remus to dry his scales with.

Remus winces as the blanket lands upon his head, frowning as it blocks his view. Pulling the soft cloth from his head, he sets to work on drying himself and his scales, “But why would they go after his family?” He yells out. 

Opal pauses, a somber look upon her face as she watches Remus make his way up the rope ladder with his two legs, scales now nowhere to be seen. She shakes her head as he reaches the deck, “I don’t know. But I think something’s wrong.”

Two quarters of an hour pass with The Dragon’s Pearl sailing at full speed to Portland. The sea seemed to be at their side that night, the sound of cannon fire reached the members of the crew. The lifeboats were lowered with First mate Sandoval and Remus inside one of the boats. 

Remus’ eyes widened when he saw the pitch black sails of The Ophiuchus which could barely be seen from a distance. The ship’s colors had a black flag with a white skull with a snake coming out of an eye socket. The Blacks. The ancient pirate ship passed down from generation to generation of Blacks. Rumors and tales continuously traveled from sailors aboard many ships about the family, the ship gaining the nickname of Grimmauld amongst the gossiping sailors. Remus had heard many tales himself in the past. The Blacks were ruthless in their pliage for gold, leaving no survivors. There were tales of The Ophiuchus battling The Dragon’s Pearl when Captain Orion Black attempted to steal the other Captain’s ship. Although Captain Hua was young, he forced the Blacks to flee when their ship suffered too much damage. The Captain of The Dragon’s Pearl had given them a warning years ago that should he ever see them again, he would kill the Captain of The Ophiuchus.              

The boats reached the docks before everyone ran up to the small town of Portland. Quinn cut down any pirate who foolishly stood in his way. Remus followed close behind, sword drawn at the ready and cut down any pirate who tried to go after Quinn whilst the man’s back was turned. Remus had grown used to the occasional battle, but hardly ever were the stakes this high. Opal and Captain Hua had stayed on the ship with a skeleton crew, while the other sailors joined Remus and Quinn to shore. 

Remus stopped in his tracks when one of the pirates was running straight for him. With the sword in his hand, Remus quickly stabbed the pirate in the abdomen before pulling his sword free and running to catch up with Quinn. Who was running up a hill towards the Lighthouse faster than Remus had ever seen the man move. Up close the Lighthouse was rather beautiful for it’s old age, time had been kind to it, yet the years have clearly made their marks all throughout the house. The lighthouse more than likely had many stories to tell. Standing tall with red and white patterns, a small quaint cottage at the base of the lighthouse became visible as Remus neared the property. The house was alight with shadows dancing across the windows as pirates breached the door, the sound of clanging swords could be heard coming from inside the house. Quinn cut down pirates until he finally managed to enter the house. 

Quinn’s eyes widened as he surveyed the state of the house, there were countless pirates from both the Black’s and Greyback’s sailors engaged in sword fights. There was hardly a break as he entered the fray of battle, cutting down unsuspecting men from behind and never letting his guard down.

A middle aged woman with black hair tied into a messy bun, bright brown eyes, fair skin and rosy lips gripped the rapier in her hand tightly as she slashed down another pirate. She twirled expertly, her white nightgown and dark robe twirling with her, to dodge a blow from another pirate before she stabs them, she pulls the sword free before she raises it to the man who just entered the cottage, freezing as her eyes widen in surprise. “Quinn!” She exclaimed before her eyes darted to a pirate behind him who began to stir awake. 

He smiles at the exclamation before following her line of sight, turning behind him he sees the pirate that began to stir awake. Flipping the hilt of his sword in hand, he stabs the newly conscious pirate in the chest before turning back to the woman, “Mother are you alright?” He looked over the cottage, objects just laying scatter on the floor before he looked back to his mother. 

“I’m perfectly alright, it’s your father I’m worried about, that blasted Greyback cornered him to the basement!” The woman turned her gaze to the young man who just reached the door, quickly assessing him before offering him a small nod. “And you must be Remus.”  

Remus nods in return, “I am. How did you-” He cuts himself off as the answer was obvious and gives his First mate a pointed look, “Quinn. You’ve told them about me haven’t you?”

“Remus. Who do you take me for? Of course I did.” Quinn mirrors the same pointed look back, “How else do you think Min-Jun and I were able to help you as a child?” He looks back to his mother, “We better move quickly. Hopefully father is using the basement to his advantage.”

“Quinn, this is your father, of course he is.” The woman turns to a door that leads to a staircase to the basement. Quickly lifting her skirt the woman rushed down the stairs. 

The three rush down the stairs and into the large dimly lit basement, which could only be described as a very large study with storage. Bookshelves lined the walls and the shelves themselves were stacked with a variety of mythical things one would only believe to be within the tales. Color bottles and vials littered the shelves of the room, various plants were in every corner of the room. In the center of the basement, a large man with a cutlass scoured the room with a harsh glare for the man who was hiding. The man wielding the cutlass was large, nearly the height of Min-Jun and Quinn, he had a vicious looking face, with very long matted grey hair in dreads, a scar going across his right eye, the iris pale compared to it’s twin which was pitch black. His left ear had a gold hoop earring, his teeth were visible as he sneered at others who interrupted his dual. 

Remus’ eyes could only widen as he looked upon the large man, his breathing quickening and grip tightening on his sword. Every part of him grew defensive and fearful, his instincts screaming at him to get out. To run. He’s heard of this man before, Fenrir Greyback, notorious and ruthless hunter of mers alike, capturing and selling mers for profit, or simply to just experiment on them. Other times he’d simply slaughter any merfolk he could find.

Greyback’s knuckles looked raw and battered with blood as he gripped his weapon tightly, his long yellowish nails were easily spotted as his right hand pressed against his chest, a wound with fresh blood seeping through his grey shirt. “This isn’t over.” He snarled before he ran out the basement door. 

Hidden behind a bookcase, was a middle aged man with tousled red-brown hair with long bangs parted to the left, light colored skin and blue eyes. He wore a simple navy blue shirt underneath a grey robe, light brown pants and dark brown boots. Eyes trained as he watched the burly man closely, sword drawn at the ready to continue the duel. He made no notion to move as Greyback snarled in warning, back pressed flush against the wood until he could hear the pounding footsteps a safe distance away. 

Relaxing marginally, he exits his retreat behind the bookcase and sighs, “That man is repulsive.” He mutters under his breath.

“You’re not wrong about that father.” Quinn chuckles as he gently pats his father’s shoulder. 

“Why would Greyback come all the way out here? Why would he attack you?” Remus looked at the older man.

“Probably because my husband has something he wants.” The older woman looks to her husband. “Are you alright?”  

The older man looks to his wife and nods, “I’m alright. If anything Greyback’s in much worse shape. That wound is going to leave quite a scar if untreated.”

“What was he after?” Remus looked between the older couple. 

“Something no one should know exists.” The woman looked around the room. Muttering under her breath at the state of the room. “But rumors are a powerful thing, especially when they hold truths.” 

“And especially if it makes you incredibly well known in the nautical world.” The man continued with a sigh. Moving aside his robe, he pulls free a rather thick leather book from an inner pocket and looks down to it. “He’d be a fool to think I’d just leave it lying about.”

Remus’ eyes looked over the leather book. At first glance it was nothing out of the ordinary, but Remus knew better than to judge a book by its cover. It was what’s inside the book that Greyback took a slash to the chest in order to obtain. And failed. Whatever information that was contained inside the book was important. Why else would such a siege upon this small home occur? Enough to bring both Greyback and the Blacks themselves here. 

“This book is the only one in existence.”  The woman looked at Remus as she stood beside her husband. “It’s about your kind.” Gently taking the book from her husbands’ hands, she holds the book to Remus. “My husband wrote everything he learned about the magical creatures of the sea.” She smiles as she encourages Remus to take the book. 

“About my kind…” He repeats at a whisper before a realization comes to mind, amber eyes widening at the thought, “That’s why he wanted the book. To hunt more merfolk.” A cold shudder runs down his spine at the thought of Greyback getting his hands upon this book. No wonder the older man fought to protect it with his life. Mers alike would be in even more danger than in the past. And after seeing the man in person, Remus felt as though the rumors didn’t give any accurate insight as to how gruesome the pirate actually appeared, and the snarling tone of his voice would most likely echo in his mind for days. 

At the older man’s nod in confirmation, he looked back at him.  “How long have you been working on this?” Remus asked as he took the book, with careful hands.

“Many years. I was a bit younger than you when I first started writing the beginning pages.”

Remus looks down to the worn leather book and opens to a well kept page, Fantastic Nautical Creatures, by Newt Scamander.  Remus’ eyes widen at the title and familiar name, pausing mid turn of a page. Wait. Remus looks to Quinn with wide eyes, before he looks back to the older couple. 

“You’re Newt Scamander,” He looks to the woman, “And you’re Porpetina Scamander!” 

“Please, call me Tina dear.” She rubs Remus’ arm in a comforting manner. 

Remus looks to Quinn, an unreadable expression upon his face. Quinn had called them mother and father. That means… “You’re their son?!” 

“Quinton Scamander is my real name.” Quinn answered with a simple shrug. “Sandoval was the first thing I could come up with when you asked for my name. I’m not exactly used to keeping an alias.” He looks at his parents. “Why couldn’t you have just kept it at Quinn?” 

“And leave the Scamander tradition of giving horrible names? I couldn’t possibly.” Tina chuckled.

“Oh, you wound me mother. What a way to keep tradition.” Quinn replies with a wince. 

“It’s not like my family did any better.” Tina retorts just as the sound of cannon fire boomed, echoing throughout the basement. Tensing, everyone turned their heads to the back door, and with a nod from Newt, they exited the damaged basement and headed to the cliffs.

As the group ran back towards the shoreline, Remus could see The Dragon’s Pearl exchanging cannon fire with The Ophiuchus.  The ships both suffered blows from the other, only The Dragon’s Pearl wasn’t on fire. And what appeared to be Min-Jun, swinging on a rope, from the Ophiuchus back to the Dragon’s Pearl.

Quinn only groaned at the sight. “And he gives me lectures about swinging from rope.” Hypocrite. “Why are you like this…” He mumbled under his breath.

Tina and Newt only chuckled as their son scowled at the captain. They ran to the docks just as the Ophiuchus began to make their retreat, and the Dragon’s Pearl making its way to the loading docks. Opal was the first rush down to welcome Quinn and Remus back. 

Quinn had a strange feeling, one that he couldn’t place as he looked over Opal. Relieved that the woman wasn’t injured in the crossfire, although he was well aware that she could easily handle herself. “Ti synévi?” What happened?  He asked.

“To shorten it: Min-Jun snuck onto Greyback’s ship, found two mermaids. Brought them back, then proceeded to sneak onto the Ophiuchus, rescue the second Black heir and brought him back.” Opal said with a shake of her head, “How he managed that… I have no idea.” 

“Sounds about right.” Newt replied with a chuckle.

The older couple looked at their son, who had never told them he learned and spoke greek. Newt and Tina looked to each other before sharing a knowing smile. Tina looked to the woman with the greek accent. “I’m Tina Scamander, Quinn’s mother. I wonder why my dear son would fail to mention a lovely lady such as yourself in his letters?” She turns her head slowly to glare at Quinn, who found the sea far more interesting at the moment. Tina looked back to the young woman. “What is your name dear?” 

Opal watched Quinn’s gaze quickly turn to the sea in embarrassment. Oh this awkward man. She fought the urge to tease the poor man she loved, there was time to mess with him another time. Not in front of his parents. She smiled as she looked at Tina. “Opal Teresi. It’s nice to meet you.”

Remus looked to Quinn with a teasing smirk, “Really? You mention me in your letters but not Opal?” 

“Shut. Up.” Quinn says with wide eyes that seemed to promise pain with an unnaturally wide smile.

“You’ll have to write to me dear, Quinn hardly ever writes what’s going on in his life. I have to rely on Min-Jun for that.” She tsks she pats Opal’s hand affectionately.  

“I will.” Opal replies with a nod. 

“May I see them?” Newt asks the young woman. “The mermaids.” 

The young woman pauses for a moment and looks to Newt, “They’re terrified, so yes, please. If there’s any way you could help.”

“Maybe I can get them to calm down?” Remus suggests looking to Opal and Newt. 

“That may be for the best.” Opal agrees, “We better hurry aboard, Min-Jun wants to leave as soon as possible. Before the Blacks notice their son is missing.”  

Opal leads the group to the cabins, walking past many doors until they finally stop at one door with a circular window. Remus peered inside and froze when a pair of glaring eyes locked to his. Inside the room, there was a tall beautiful asian woman with wet long dark brown hair, brown eyes, fair skin and bright red lips. She looked to be about Opal’s age. Her tail was a dazzling array of soft blue scales that looked like mis-shapened spots, with white scales as the base, her flue was nearly a translucent shimmery white. Her skin was pale, her arms were wrapped tightly around the smaller mer. Her tail coiled around them protectively. Remus’ nearly gasped. The mermaid only clutched the child tighter, her glare never leaving Remus’ face.

The mer in her arms was tiny. A child, who couldn’t have been older than four. The mer child had short soft silky black hair that was in a disarray, brown eyes, light sun kissed skin. The child clung tightly to the older mermaid's neck, their tail had pale teal and shimmery white scales with the same patterns as the older mermaid, safely tucked under her arms. The mer child’s shoulders were shaking, pearls littered the blankets beneath them. Tears. They sat alone in the room, laying on top of a few spare blankets for the cabin beds.

Remus’ gaze was pulled away at the sound of running footsteps, a sailor running past them in haste, to the infirmary. On impulse, Remus followed the sailor as they walked through the door. 

There Min-Jun sat on a chair, looming over a deathly still figure, his face pale. Min-Jun was holding the still figure’s hand. 

Remus gulped, scared to find out who the figure was. “Who…” 

Min-Jun looked up to see Remus. With pained eyes he looked back down to the figure. Gently putting the cold hand to rest on their chest. 

“Ethan’s dead.” 

[zoequeenz]

Extreme Aggressor (Part 4)

MASTERLIST

PREVIOUS CHAPTER 

Aaron Hotchner’s POV

“We found out Heather was buying a used car. You know how a car salesman gets us to buy a car? They call it reciprocity.They drop the price and...feels like they’ve done us a favor. We feel obligated. There’s a sudden pressure to reciprocate this one little favor. And it’s so powerful that we’ll...put a deposit down on a car we’re not even sure we really want.” I say pacing in the interrogation room.

“So what?” Slessman quickly replied in an annoyed tone.

“So Vogel did you a favor.”

“He protected you in prison,and now you feel like you owe him and need to protect him. Guys like Vogel learn in the schoolyard which kids to bully and which kids to protect, and he’s got you convinced that you owe him so much that you’ll go to jail for him.”

“Richard...I’m here to remind you of something. You owe him nothing.”

Richard says nothing but looks forward as a smirk grows on his face.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Elle Greenaway’s POV

“There’s something wrong here. We gotta pull him over. I can feel it.” I say to Gideon while we are following the red Datsun Z.

“You wanna know the word repeated more than any other in your file?” He asks getting my attention.

“Impatient. You wanna stop him, give me a reason.”

“His behavior.” I respond with quickly.

“When we left him, he was nervous, unsettled. But now he’s stopping at every sign. He’s using his blinker at every turn. He’s slowing at yellow lights. This is not someone who is rushing to kill and dump a body.” I explain.

“Okay. Do it.” Gideon says after thinking for a minute.

I turn on the siren and the lights and the red Datsun Z slows to a stop. We get out of the car and draw our guns. We slowly walk towards the car.

“FBI. Put your hands up where we can see them!” I order as Gideon and I approach the car.

“Put your hands through the window now!” I repeat.

“Now!” just as I say that hands come through the window.

“All right, with your left hand I want you to open the car door from the outside.” I instruct. The driver reaches for the handle and opens the door. I move towards him and grab him pulling him out of the car, he falls to the ground.

“Get out!”

The man groans in pain when he hits the ground.

“It’s not him!” I exclaim.

“Where is he?” Where is him?” Gideon asks the man.

“Who?” the man asks.

“Vogel!” I respond.

“I don’t know!” he tells us.

“What are you doin’ driving his car?!” Gideon questions.

“He came up to me in the garage after our shift ended. He asked if he could borrow my truck.” the man explained.

“What kind of truck?”

“He’s dumping the body.” I say.

“What’s the make?”...”WHAT’S THE MAKE?”

“Dodge. Dodge Dakota!” the man tells us.

(DRIVING TO FIND THE TRUCK)

“Gideon Heather’s alive.” Morgan tells Gideon.

“How do you know?” he asks.

“”Cause we’re watching her right now.”

(TIME SKIP)

“Hotch, he’s gonna kill her. He’s heading there now. We need a location.”Gideon tells Hotch.

“I don’t have enough time to get it out of him.” Hotch answers.

“Find something, Hotch, or that girl is dead.”

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Persephone Chase’s POV

We got in and have been watching Heather for about an hour. I was comfortable until Spencer got up and booted me off his lap. We are also still trying to find out where Heather is being held, we don’t know how much time she has left so these few minutes are very crucial.

“Morgan, can you show me the last twelve images lined up next to each other?” Spencer asked.

“Yeah.”

The few images filled up the screen. Spencer must’ve noticed something

“Right there.” Spencer says pointing to the screen.

“You see that?” he asks.

“The light bulb hanging from the wire?”

“Yeah, what about it?” Derek retaliates.

“It’s shifting positions like it’s swaying...like the earth is tilting.” Spencer points out.

“Not the earth,Doc. The ocean.” Derek says leading them to look at each other. Derek then pulls out his phone and calls Hotch.

“She’s on a boat? Where?” Hotch asks.

“It’s a pier or a dock. He wouldn’t be able to transmit the Webcam image from the middle of the ocean.” Derek tells Hotch.

“You’re sure about this.” Hotch questions.

“It’s the best we got, Hotch. Even if we’re right, getting the exact location’s on you, my friend.” Derek tells him.

“What is it you always as Garcia?” Hotch asks.

“To work me a little magic.” Derek responds.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Aaron Hotchner’s POV

“Just to let you know...Gideon’s talking to Vogel...and Vogel’s nailing you to the wall.” I lie to Slessman.

“Yeah, whatever.” Slessman responds sounding a bit hurt.

“He said it was your idea to keep the girls on a boat.”

“He’s talking, Richard. Reciprocity. Tell me where she is, and we make a deal. Is it a dock? A pier?” I ask finally breaking him.

“It’s a shipyard. Allied Shipyard.” Slessman tells me.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Persephone Chase’s POV

We are still viewing the webcam to make sure that if something happens we are the first to know. When I look back on the screen I notice Vogel there in the room with Heather. I tap Derek on the shoulder and point to the screen to get him to notice the situation at hand.

“Ried, he’s inside.” Derek tells Spency. Spency walks over and stands next to me. Vogel unlocks the cage holding Heather and removes the chain.

“Get Elle on the phone.” Derek commands the both of us. Spency is quick to get his phone out. Then hands it to Derek.

“Listen to me. You need to wait for backup.” Derek says which triggers fear into my mind and I quickly grab Spencer’s hand. He looks at me then puts two and two together.

“If we wait, the girl is dead.” Elle quickly replies.

“And if we had waited in Boston--.” Derek says.

“I can’t. You told me to trust my instincts.” Elle says ending the conversation.

When Derek pauses it causes me more stress. Gideon is like my father and Elle is the only other girl that goes out to the field with me, I don’t normally get this freaked out but usually the unsub’s aren’t cops. Let’s just hope Hotch doesn’t find out this kind of behavior would be bad for the job.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

3RD PERSON POV

Vogel opens the cage door and reaches out to the sleeping Heather.

“Come on.” Vogel mumbles under his breathe. As he pulls the sleeping woman out of the cage by her ankles her foot flies up and kicks him in the face. Heather then gets up in an attempt to run. She hits her head on something due to there being a blindfold on her eyes. Even though there was a delay Heather managed to escape the room she was held captive in. When she makes it to the top deck she trips over something just as Vogel comes up the stairs. Still unable to see a blind Heather crawls in a desperate attempt to get away from her captor. He reaches her and pulls her up roughly. Heather now being able to see and speak cries out.

“Stop!” yells Gideon catching Vogel’s attention.

“Get back!” demands Vogel pointing the gun to the frightened woman’s head. Gideon walks a bit closer but is still a good distance away.

“I’ll shoot her.” Vogel threatens.

“I wouldn’t if I were you, I’d aim the gun at me. You shoot the girl, you got nothing.” Gideon says.

“Get...back.” Vogel warns for the second time.

“Shoot me instead. Come on. What, are you a lousy shot?” Gideon pesters. Gideon lowers the gun to the side and opens his arms.

“Fifty feet away. You got a perfect shot. Shoot me.”

“You think I’m stupid?” Vogel grimly asks.

“I think you’re an absolute moron. I know all about ya, Tim. You’re at the gym five times a week. You drive a flashy car, you stink of cologne, and you can’t get it up. Not even Viagra’s workin’ for ya. You know what that tells me? That tells me that you are hopelessly compensating, and it’s not just in your head. It is physical. What did the girls call you in high school? What’d they come up with when you fumbled your way into some girl’s pants, and she started laughing when she got a good look at just how little you had to offer?” Gideon yet again pestered.

“SHUT UP!” Vogel yelled.

“Short stack? Very little Vogel? I got it. Tiny Tim.” Gideon stated.

Vogel pushed Heather away from him and points the gun at Gideon. Elle shoots and the bullet hits Vogel. Leading Vogel to fire a shot and hit Gideon in the chest. Gideon goes down and slumps. Elle runs over…

“Gideon!”

Elle checks Gideon as Heather gets to her feet and begins to yell and cry.

“I’m fine. Go look after the girl.” Gideon informs Elle. Elle runs over to the distraught girl.

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Persephone Chase’s POV

We get to the crime scene and I see Heather on a gurney. Heather and Gideon share a moment of gratitude, then he walks off. Spencer finds me and we being to walk to who knows where. We walk past Derek and Hotch, they are talking about Gideon.

“So what kind of report do they want on him?” Derek asks.

“I suppose whether he’s fit to be a field agent. You know, Haley and I were looking at a baby names book. Well, guess what Gideon means in Hebrew.” Hotch paused only to be cut off by Spencer.

“Mighty warrior. Appropriate.”

As we walk away I giggle catching Spencer’s attention.

“What is funny?” he asks me.

“I just think that how much of a smartass you are is kinda cute.” I reply.

He looks at me with a faint blush on his face and hugs me. I savor this moment, believe it or not we don’t hug a lot. Not to sure why but we don’t. I want to hug him more often though because his hugs are the best.

(TIME SKIP)

We are now flying home. It seems like everyone is asleep except Hotch, Gideon, and I. I can’t sleep, because I have the head of my genius best friend in my lap. I chose to sit here and he thought my lap would be the best pillow. I don’t mind it though, he looks very cute. His hair is in his face and he looks so innocent. I move his hair to behind his ear to see his face better. His eyelashes flutter a bit from me touching his face. He looks at me and I smile then tell him to go back to sleep. Thank god for the wall next to me and slowly drift off.

“Nietzsche once said, “When you look long into an abyss, the abyss looks into you.

NEXT CHAPTER 

[minhoslut]

♡ summary: Y/N is a fairy in a world of magic hating humans, who moves into a house with seven young men after being kicked out of her old dorm. She learns about all their secrets while hiding hers for as long as she can. Lots of parties, games, sex and maybe even love.

♡ pairing: ot7 x fem!reader, fem!reader x various idols

♡ chapter: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | ? |

♡ series warnings: alcohol consumption, blood mention, drug use, mxm, fxf, threesome, foursome, orgy, swearing, anxiety, depression, past trauma, past abuse

♡ series genre: fluff, smut, slight angst

♡ series rating: R

♡ word count: 2043

♡ posted on: AO3

♡ chapter four: never have I ever...

When you reached the liquor store, you all exited the car and headed in. “I’ll gather the things the other boys want if you two want to find your own!” Namjoon suggested. Splitting up, you and Jimin wandered through the store. “What are you thinking of getting?” You asked him, looking at all the various bottles. “Mm, probably tequila, maybe some gin, beer… I’m a heavyweight so I usually drink a lot. Plus we all like to get blackout, so lots of liquor is a must.” You giggled and shook your head, “Makes sense I guess, I’m gunna get sourpuss and some raspberry vodka I think, maybe some growers… I’m a lightweight but I love to drink too.”

You both laughed and went on with your search, collecting bottles and finally heading up to the register. “Perfect timing!” Namjoon said smiling, his basket filled with beers, soju, vodka and rose. Once you had paid, you loaded them into the car and piled back in. Jimin connected his phone to the aux cord and turned the volume up. Up and Down by EXID blasted through the speakers and the three of you sang along as loud as you could. Your heart was full of laughter the whole ride home, these men were really becoming a great part of your life.

Back at the house, Jimin and Namjoon stacked the alcohol in the so called ‘buzz cupboard’ that held all of their other liquor as well. “I’m so glad you guys throw parties! I love to drink and dance!” You cheered from your seat at the island, a bright smile on your face. “That’s why we accepted your application, no one else seemed as interested in the parties!” Namjoon chuckled, closing the cabinet drawer and coming to lean on the island across from you. His eyes locked with your own and you could swear that they shimmered a beautiful deep violet. Shaking your head you hopped off the bar stool and slipped your shoes on, calling out, “I’m off on a walk be back sometime!” before heading for the woods surrounding the house.

The sun was peeking through the foliage as you walked, creating shadows that danced along the ground. You let your intuition guide you once again, just walking and walking, deeper into the woods. Eventually you reached a small clearing, covered with a beautiful green grass carpet. You slipped off your shoes and walked across the grass to the center, the ground was soft and cool under your feet.

The sun was shining onto you as you laid down, warming your skin and reminding you of your fairy home. It was times like this you would briefly wonder if you should have just stayed in your colony, safe in the arms of the trees, singing with the streams. The fact that your new home was close to nature would be comfort enough for now, but you never knew what you would choose in the future, though you would be on your own if you chose nature.

The idea of being alone was one of the few things you were terrified of, it was like a darkness that would consume you in an instant if you imagined it for more than a brief moment. Taking a few deep breaths you brought yourself back to the forest, the cool grass on your skin and the birds chirping in the trees. It was comforting here in the clearing, and you eventually drifted off.

~

When you awoke, the sun had begun to set and you scrambled to get up quickly, rushing through the trees back to the house. You hadn’t meant to spend so long there, especially not asleep, and you felt bad for just vanishing. The lights were on when you reached the old house, and you could hear laughter coming from the kitchen, making you smile to yourself. Walking up the deck stairs, you entered your home and slipped off your shoes.

“She returns!” Hoseok called from the table, making you rub your neck sheepishly. “Sorry, I fell asleep.” You explained quickly, taking a seat next to Yoongi. “In the woods?” Taehyung said, disbelief lacing his words, “Yeah in the woods, it’s nice!” You pouted at him and served some food for yourself. “I like the woods too, Y/N! It’s so peaceful there~” Hoseok chimed, giving you a smile. You nodded your agreement and started eating happily, listening to the guys talk about their days.

After dinner, you all moved into the living room as requested by Jimin, confusion on all of your faces. “Tada! Let’s do never have I ever! Every finger down you take a shot, and the first one with all their fingers down has to chug the rest of the vodka!” Jimin declared when he returned with several packs of beer and a huge bottle of vodka. “Sounds fun!” You smiled, settling the worries of the seven men around you. Everyone grabbed a drink and settled in comfortably, ready to begin the game. “So who is starting?” Jungkook questioned, leaning forward excitedly. “Jimin obviously, he started this!” Namjoon said decidedly, making all of you turn to Jimin.

“Alright, alright!” Jimin said, raising his hands in surrender, “Um, never have I ever passed out from drinking.” A collective groan came from the group as everyone but Yoongi and Jin put down a finger, “Ok! Let’s continue in the circle! ” Jin suggested smirking, and all eyes turned to Namjoon who was sat beside Jimin. “Never have I ever skipped my class 3 weeks in a row.” The three youngest boys protested at Namjoons words, but he just laughed at them, “I had to say something to get Jimin down!”

Yoongi went next with a simple, “Never have I ever almost drowned in the pool because I was drunk off my ass.” Making Jimin glare at him while everyone else was having a giggle fit. “Did he really?” You asked wiping tears from your eyes, “Yeah, it was the shallow end too, he was just sitting down!” Taehyung said when he caught his breath, “You all better watch out now, if that’s how we’re playing!” Jimin threatened, but he was just ignored as Jungkook began his turn.

“Never have I ever had a threesome~” He said slyly, making you, Namjoon, Jin and Yoongi put down a finger, you caught some of their eyes widen when you put your finger down but you just smiled and shook your head, the more the merrier in your mind. Hoseok, Jin and Yoongi only had one finger down, while you, Namjoon, Taehyung, Jimin and Jungkook had two. Hoseok was up next, “Never have I ever made out with two people at the same time.” His comment had everyone putting another finger down, putting him in the lead.

You all crushed two beers before continuing the game, which made everyone tipsy, since you had each finished one already. Taehyung was up and he hummed for a moment before saying, “Never have I ever had sex on a balcony!” This time Hoseoks finger went down along with yours, Namjoons, Yoongis, Jungkooks and Jins, Taehyung laughed at the scowl Hoseok had sent his way when he asked the question. “Alright Jin you’re up~” You teased, putting a hand on Jins thigh and squeezing slightly.

He cleared his throat, a smirk on his lips as he announced, “Never have I ever cum on the couch.” This knocked down a finger on Jimin, Jungkook, Hoseok, Taehyung and Namjoon, leaving them blushing and you, Jin and Yoongi with tears of laughter in your eyes. “That was a low blow Jin, you better be ready!” Jungkook said shaking his head. You tapped your lips as you thought of a good question, smiling as you said “Never have I ever kissed anyone in this room.” Just like you had thought, your question made everyone lose a finger. “No fair Y/N~ Taehyung whined, but you just giggled at him.

By now a good amount of vodka was missing from the bottle and you were all sufficiently drunk, with the current stats being Jin, Yoongi and you with 3 down, Taehyung, Jimin, Hoseok and Jungkook with 4 down and Namjoon in last with 5 down.  The game continued for a while, words slurring more and more, while questions got extra sexual. You were basically fucking them with your eyes whenever you put down a finger, seeing as you had a pretty long sexual history and most things had you taking a shot. They seemed surprised by it, and you could tell they were trying to even the playing field by making specific digs at each other.

The game ended with Hoseok drinking the remainder of the vodka, though that ended up not being much, since a ‘shot’ had really evolved into giant sips straight from the bottle. Everyone was giggly and unstable as you all finally stood up from your circle, you stumbled and caught yourself against Jins chest so you wouldn’t fall. “Sorry handsome~” You slurred cutely before turning to face the group.

“Thanks for such a game so fun!” You managed to get out, though not in the right order. With a big two handed thrown kiss you clumsily skipped up the stairs and jumped into your bed, your body on fire and your mind a puddle. You had run away so you wouldn’t start begging for Jins cock in the middle of the living room, your drunk self tended to be even more bold and it wasn’t time for that, not yet.

~

You must have fallen asleep soon after, since next you knew the sun was in your room once more. Sitting up you surveyed the situation, clothes were strewn about the floor and you were only wearing panties, so you must have stripped before passing out. Last night had been the perfect way to find out what kind of boundaries there were for the party tonight, and you were extremely excited to test them out.

Slipping on a black robe and grabbing a high cut hot pink tube top bodysuit and some black sweatpants with a checkered stripe , you made your way to the bathroom to have a warm bath. As you filled the tub, you removed the robe and your panties, and organized your pampering items in the space surrounding the bath. Since you were aiming for some intimacy tonight, you were using all mango scented cleansers, and doing a full body spa.

You put on some relaxing music and sank into the tub, relishing in the warm water surrounding your body. Sighing happily, you began your routine, scrubbing yourself clean, exfoliating, shampoo, deep condition etc. When you got out of the bath, you applied a nourishing face mask before starting on toweling off and moisturizing your body. Finished with putting on lotion and getting dressed, you rinse away the mask and apply your face oil before collecting your belongings and heading back to your room to deposit them.

Feeling clean and satisfied, you went downstairs to make a fruit salad for breakfast, surprised to find all seven men scattered around the downstairs. “Good morning~” You sang when you came to the landing, skipping to the fridge and starting your prep. “Morning Y/N.” They all called from their various seats, “I’m making fruit salad, anyone want some?” A chorus of “yes” answered your question making you laugh as you pulled more fruit from the fridge.

Once the salad had been made up, you asked Seokjin to set the table while you moved the large bowl over. Eventually everyone was seated and had their own serving of fruit to eat, and  hopefully help clear any hangovers they had. “I had a lot of fun last night! I love party games like that!” You said in between scoops of fruit. “It was really interesting, you’re not easily embarrassed are you Y/N?” Yoongi said chuckling, and the other six nodded in agreement. “Nope! If i ever was I’d say something~ I’d much rather be comfortable and close with the people I live with, as long as they are ok with it, of course!” You smiled at them all, happy that they seemed to be starting to push their own worries about you away.

[tjswritingstuff]

Before the Wolf Moon

Chapter 4

The bell above the door chimed. Stephanie looked up for a second she forgot the way that she greeted people when they walked in the store. The well-rehearsed lines flew from her mind. “You're here?” she asked dumbly.

“I...” Annabelle stopped, then restarted, “the police haven't found Amy yet.”

“I'm so sorry,” Stephanie said softly, “how can I help?”

“I don't know,” she said, “you said you could help me find her, so if you can....” she trailed off.

The circles under her eyes were so dark they looked like bruises. She rubbed them unable to stop the tears from falling, “please, if anything happens to her it would kill me.”

Stephanie didn't lie and tell her it would be okay. She said, “let me close the store, and we'll do what we can.”

It was before noon. She'd lose a lot of business in the hours she had left, but there were things more important than catering to the whims of tourists. Taking care of the people who came needed genuine help was her top priority.

Stephanie turned off the open sign and locked the door. The paperwork could wait until later. She debated taking Annabelle upstairs but thought she might find the professionalism of the store more comfortable.

“I need to go upstairs to get some stuff,” Stephanie said, “you can have a seat and I'll be right back.”

She didn't plan on being gone for more than a minute. Annabelle didn't look like she could stand to be alone much more than that

Annabelle was looking around the shop when she made it back down the stairs. She was staring a picture hanging on the wall of a tree.

Stephanie sat a precariously balanced stack of books on the counter and pulled out a portable burner from the cabinet, “I'm going to make tea.”

“Is it like magic tea?”

“It's chamomile,” Stephanie said, “it's soothing, but not magic.”

“Oh,” she said, “I expected something more mystical.”

“you won’t be disappointed,” Stephanie said softly, “I think you should know that I've been working on finding Amy. I hit a dead end.”

Annabelle looked up from the table cloth, “what kind?”

“The person who took your daughter took something from me. I have been trying to figure out how they could have known I had it, but I haven't been able to come up with an answer, no one knew the thing that was stolen from me was here.

It's used in a ritual; the problem is that generally the target for the ritual is supposed to be a blood relative of the person who performs it.” she avoided saying exactly what the ritual was for.

“What does that have to do with my daughter?” she asked.

“There's a good chance that the person who took Amy is related to her.”

“How good?” she asked regaining interest in the table cloth.

Stephanie shrugged, “I've never heard of this ritual being done with a victim that wasn't a family member.”

She weighted the words carefully, “I know the police have probably asked you a lot of really personal questions, and I know that this makes it all harder, but what can you tell me about your daughter's family.”

“It's just the two of us,” Annabelle said softly, “I had her young, got a job and did the best I could. My parents tried to help us, but they just didn't understand why I kept her. I couldn't make them understand that even though I hated the way that she came into my life, that girl is my entire world. I'd die for her.”  

She stopped talking, Stephanie handed her a box of tissues, then asked, “so her father's not in the picture?”

A bitter snort of laughter met that question. “No. If he comes near my daughter I'll gut him.”

Stephanie felt the energy in the room flare. She realized she had no idea what was under Annabelle’s psychic armor. Chances were for it to be so well built it was nothing good.

She busied herself making the tea but made a mental note not to mention Amy’s father.

“I tried to do a locator spell.” she explained, “but the person who took her doesn't want me to find them, they're warded.”

“How could they do that?”

“It's not hard, the right spell, the right ingredients, and a witch willing to mix the two is all it takes.”

Annabelle thought about it for a while.

Stephanie let her contemplate it without comment. She didn't want to get started until the tea was ready. Its effects were stronger and more reliable when the drinker was unaware of its magical components.

Stephanie took out a set of white porcelain tea cups with gold rims. They were pretty, but they also helped add to the illusion.

She set everything on the table then reached for the tarot deck. “I'm going to start with a card reading.”

“What do I have to do?” Annabelle asked.

“For now, relax. Let the tea steep and think about what you're going to say to your daughter when we bring her home.” She shuffled the cards and started talking filling in the silence with the sound of her voice.

She was trying to get past Annabelle’s defenses as subtly as she could. She tried to reassure her that she could trust Stephanie and her intentions were only to help.

With each rotation of the cards in her hands Stephanie added an extra layer of compulsion to her words. “You should try the tea,” she suggested when she saw the woman's eyes were starting to drift closed.

She the deck down in front of her guest. “Cut the deck,” she ordered gently.

Annabelle hesitated over the cards her finger tips resting just on top of the deck. “You're missing a card.” she said softly.

“I am,” Stephanie said, “how did you know that?”

“I don't know,” Annabelle answered, “it just felt like something's missing.”

“Your daughter?” Stephanie suggested, wanting to believe the missing card was a coincidence. That she wasn't reading that clearly from a single sip of the tea and a little persuasion. If that were the case, then Stephanie had no question why her daughter would have been targeted.

“My world,” Annabelle corrected her, “I have to get her back.”

“We will,” Stephanie promised, “cut the deck.”

There was no more hesitation. Three almost perfectly equal stacks were separated out then she put them back together.

“I'm going to do a Celtic cross spread,” she said softly, “I want you to focus on finding your daughter and draw, I'll show you where to put the cards.”

“The first card you're going to pull will represent yourself. You're going to lay it face up here.” Stephanie tapped the spot for the card on the table in front of her.

Annabelle flipped the card and put it in the spot looking not at the card but at Stephanie.

“Your self card is the Eight of Swords. It's a test,” she said, “this is the point where you are going to figure out how strong you are.”

She pointed at the spot for the next card. Annabelle pulled it and laid it down.

Stephanie studied the card for a second feeling slightly more hopeful, “your situation is the Four of Wands. Achieving our goal will take team work. It's a test, but you aren't going to have to face it alone.”

Annabelle fidgeted, “I feel pretty alone.”

“I know, I can’t imagine what you’re going through, but I’m going to do everything in my power to get your daughter home safely,” Stephanie reassured her.

When Annabelle was ready they pulled the next card.

Stephanie said, “The challenge card is the Ace of Wands.  It's normally representing a new beginning. The person that took your daughter is trying to become something inhuman. We have to stop him.”

Annabelle sipped the tea and looked at her, ‘I still don’t know what you expect from me.”

“I don’t know yet either, I’m still trying to figure it out, but I know you’re important,” Stephanie gestured at the deck.

Annabelle pulled the next card, “Seven Wands?”

Stephanie nodded, “It’s representing your recent past. Up to this point you've almost always been successful. You haven't had many setbacks. Even the things that should have destroyed you you've risen above.”

“That’s one way of looking at it,” she said, then smiled, “most of my family calls me stubborn.”

“You ready for the next card?” Stephanie asked. Annabelle looked like she wanted to say something else. She changed her mind and reached for the next card.

“Place it there,” Stephanie showed her where it fit in the spread. Then said, “This card represents a higher power. It’s the Ace of Swords. Your goal is clear, but it may take a sacrifice to get what you want.”

“I don’t care,” she said vehemently, “I’ll do whatever it takes.”

She didn’t ask what kind of sacrifice it might take. Stephanie was glad because she didn’t have an answer.

The next card was pulled without prompting from her and she read it without looking at Annabelle, “your near future card is the Two of Swords. It means we need to spend some time gathering information before we decide on our next move. This card indicates conflict within the team, something communication can normally resolve.” she looked up, “you still don't trust me.”

“I'm trying,” Annabelle said, “but this is a lot to accept.”

“I know, we'll get through it.” Stephanie promised.

Annabelle flipped the next card without responding.

“Your blockers and inhibitions are the four of swords, it's a card of the past.” Stephanie said, “it normally means to remember your roots, history, and ancestors. There's something behind you that affects what's happening now, and you aren't ready to face it.”

“I can't,” Annabelle said looking down.

“You know what it's referring to?” Stephanie asked.

“I know what I'm afraid it's referring to,” Annabelle corrected.

“Okay,” she said, “that might be what we need to talk about.”  She hoped there would be a clue about who they were dealing with in the other woman's past.

“The next card is allies,” she said and showed Annabelle where to place it.

Annabelle laid it down and looked up hopefully.

“The Ace of Cups, that's good,” Stephanie smiled, “it means you have an abundance of love and support. There's people that are willing to help you, if you let them.”

The snort of disbelief told her that was something they'd have to come back to, “two more, then we'll discuss more of what it means.”

The next card was placed down on the table, “Three of Cups,” she closed her eyes, “you need to bring in your support group, family, friends, anyone you trust, they can help you. It’s a compliment to the four of wands from earlier.”

“Last card,” she said.

Annabelle seemed to sense the blank space in the spread and laid it down where it belonged without prompting.

“The Seven of Swords,” she smiled, “there's a story with this one. A warrior slipped into the enemy encampment the night before a battle and stole their weapons, securing victory and demoralizing the enemy forces.”

“What does it mean?” Annabelle asked looking at the cards like she expected the meaning to be as obvious to her as it was to Stephanie.

“We're going to win,” Stephanie smiled, “as long as we work smart and get all the information we can before making a plan.”

She looked at the cards laid out between them. It didn't tell them much more than they already knew, that they had to work together. That there was information Annabelle hadn't been willing to share that would help them find the person that had taken her daughter, and that they needed to call in more support and team work to help fill in some of the blanks for them.

“I don't want to talk about it,” Annabelle said looking at the table.

“I know,” Stephanie said, “but maybe it's time you talk to someone.”

She stood up and picked up the tea cup staring in the brown liquid like it held the answers, and could pull the words that she didn't want to say out of her.

She bit her lip Stephanie could see her searching for the words she didn't know how to say.

“It's okay,” she said, “you don't have to tell me right now.”

“No,” Annabelle said, “if it's the same person I need to find her before he hurts her.” She closed her eyes, “I was kidnapped when I was thirteen.”

Stephanie wanted to say that she was surprised, but it was too much of a coincidence. The past has a habit of repeating itself.

Annabelle's voice fell to a flat monotone. She didn't look up when she talked, kept her eyes glued into the bottom of the cup.

It the kind of story that Stephanie had heard too often, the kind of thing no one should have to experience.

“How old are you?” she asked already having a nagging feeling that the woman was too young for how old her daughter was.

She bit her lip, “twenty-five.”

“Your daughter -”

“Yeah,” she said looking down, “my parents didn't know what to do to help me. They tried to convince me to give her up. To let someone more capable take care of her.”

“But you couldn't?” she asked.

“She was mine,” the words came out small, “she was the good that I got in exchange for all of the bad.”

Stephanie closed her eyes, “the ritual takes a sacrifice. It's usually of a blood relative.” She needed to tread carefully, “do you know his name, or if he had family here.”

Annabelle nodded slightly.

Stephanie handed her another tissue for the tears streaming down her face.

“We're going to find your daughter. I promise.” she didn't say they'd find her before anything bad happened to her. That was a promise she, and one that Annabelle wouldn't believe.

“I'm going to call my parents,” Annabelle said, “they need to know what's going on.”

Stephanie carefully wrapped the cards in the velvet cloth and put them away.

It was a good spread, full of positive energy. She'd have to gain Annabelle's trust, but they'd made leaps and bounds in that direction already.

Annabelle came back into the room clutching her phone to her chest.

“Finish your tea,” Stephanie suggested, “it will make you feel better.”

Annabelle sat back down at the table and traced the rim of the cup with a fingertip, “now what?”

“Now we figure out everything we can about this ritual and how your family is connected to it.”

She could see the Annabelle relaxing as she drained the cup of tea. She sat the cup on the table.

Stephanie picked it up, glancing quickly at the leaves in the bottom. The leaves added nothing to what she already knew.

“What was his name?” Stephanie asked.

“Mark,” she said, “I didn't know him. He knew my parents. I guess that I had seen him around, but he didn't stand out, I didn't even know who he was.” Her words trailed off, “I got away. Amy is smarter than I was, she'll get away.”

“Did he live nearby?”

“I don't know,” she said, “I can't remember.”

“It's okay,” Stephanie reassured her, “anything that you can tell me might help me find them.”

Annabelle seemed to run out of steam, “I think he had family here.”

“Do you know his last name?”

She shook her head,

Stephanie got the impression it wasn't because she didn't remember it was because it was easier not to remember. “There was a trial, you should be able to find something about it.”

“I'll do that,” Stephanie agreed, “I'm proud of you. You're holding up so well.”

The blank look stayed on her face, “I want to try to do another locator spell on your daughter, will you help me?”

“What do you need?”

“Blood,” she said, “not much, just a drop of your blood and I want you to hold my hand while I do the spell so that it will draw off her connection to you. It might get past the magic they're using to keep me from finding them.”

“Okay,” she said looking down at her nails, “how badly is this going to hurt?”

“It's going to sting, but it will be over before you know it.” she promised.

Blood was one of Stephanie’s least favorite spell components. It never came without pain, and while it gave things a stronger kick she didn't like the way it made her feel.

She treated it as clinical as she could. She pulled on a pair of latex gloves and a bottle of rubbing alcohol before she opened a plastic box full of lancets and pulled one out.

“It's just like getting your finger pricked at a doctor’s office,” she promised.

The vial for the blood was already uncorked and waiting. Annabelle held out her hand and closed her eyes.

“One...two...” Stephanie didn't say three before quickly piercing her index finger with the lancet. She squeezed as much of the other woman's blood as she could into the vial it was only a few drops but that was all that she needed.

“Ow,” Annabelle gasped inspecting the damage to her finger.

Stephanie capped the vial and set it to the side before cleaning everything up.

“Okay this is the fun part.” she said, “I'm going to have to go get some supplies from the store. You just sit here and concentrate on your daughter, try to remember everything about her that you can. What her voice sounds like, how her hair smells, what makes her laugh, everything about her that comes to mind.”

She searched through her candles and found a purple one. She placed it on the table in front of the woman, “I'm going to have you meditate on this while you think of her.”  She lit the candle and the flame danced to life.

“I don't know how to.” she said.

“It's easy,” Stephanie said, “here, hold my hands.”

When she'd done what she asked Stephanie smiled encouraging, “the idea is to center yourself to focus your energy on your task and let everything else wash over you. Your thoughts, your feelings, those are all thing's you're experiencing, they aren't you. What you want to do is get in touch with that core that is purely yourself.”

Annabelle nodded.

“Okay, I want you to breath with me,” Stephanie said, “inhale slowly and steadily, counting to five. Hold it for another five, then exhale for five.”

She pulled her own breath in, counting it off in her head then exhaling. She sat with Annabelle for a couple more rounds of breathing then said, “good just keep doing that until you can hold the rhythm without counting, you'll feel your heart beat. Your body will feel like it's trying to realign itself. Your back will straighten, your feet with sit a little firmer on the ground. You'll feel things, ignore them and let them come. Don't focus on them. Let the experiences pass. I'll come back in a few minutes.”

Stephanie gathered the supplies she needed. The one good thing about running an occult shop, she had any spell ingredients she needed.

She grabbed a county map and hoped it would be enough.

Annabelle was still staring at the candle when she came in. Her body moved slightly with the breaths that she was taking. She didn’t noticed Stephanie had reentered the room. It was a good sign.

“I don't think I've ever seen anyone take to meditation so quickly,” she said and sat the map down on the other side of the candle.

Annabelle looked away from the candle. Her eyes were slightly unfocused like she'd woken from a daze.

“I'm not sure I'm doing this right,” she said, “I feel tired.”

“That's how you know you're doing it right.”

Stephanie held out her hand to Annabelle, she took it.

Stephanie said, “we're going to see if we can find your baby. Close your eyes, keep breathing the way you were, and let’s find her.”

Stephanie didn't expect the spell to work any better than her scrying spell had. The candle flared instantly. She picked it up and held it over the map watching the wax drip down the side onto the paper beneath it.  

She put the candle back down and whispered to Annabelle “blow it out.”

“There,” she said picking up the map, “see that wasn't so hard now was it? Now we have to go figure out what's there.”

“It's a farm,” Annabelle said looking at the map, “when I was a kid we lived on that road. There was a farm a little way up from us,” she closed her eyes, “this is a nightmare that just won't end.”

“I promise, we're going to end it.” Stephanie assured her.

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