#i felt bad about the displacer beast so i ran through it again and did the fight

[a-heart-of-kyber]

Celine: *talks Yurgir into offing his guards, his pet and himself*

Gale:

[rikiflowers]

first move; Levi

- warnings: fluff, cursing 

- modern au, Levi Ackerman x y/n 

- 2.1 k words 

- how to make the first move - 

“Behave, y/n. I don‘t want our family dishonoured because of you”. You internally rolled with your eyes, while a small smile is plastered on your face. It was the plainest task to do. Just smile, even if you want your lovely mother to shut up. Your parents and you were in the car on the way to some exclusive banquet, where the most influential people of the high society meet. Unfortunately, your family was a part of this, and you wished it wouldn’t be like this. Wealth is a disease, crippling through the minds of humans with a rising superior complex. They don’t need the amount of money; 

They just want to show it off, savouring the gazes and the whispers behind their back. It disgusts you. You’re looking out of the window, your mind was absent, flooding in some fantasy worlds you loved to read secretly, because your parents don’t want you wasting your time. Sometimes your mind drifts to a face you wanted to displace so bad. Your mind doesn’t let you, reminding you of him and it makes you sad. You wish you could talk to him, but you weren’t brave enough to do so.

The delicate dress you’re wearing sits tight on you, restricting your ability to breath properly, but who cares? As long as you look lovely. In your worlds, you hear your parents argue. Couldn’t they have done it before you were stuck with them? They’re shouting at each other the whole time, calling themselves names. Did they really love each other once? You saw for a moment the pure coldness in your father’s eyes and the hatred in your mother’s ones. 

You couldn’t believe they did love each other once. Quickly you looked away, instead watch how the sky is turning grey. It looks like rain is coming soon and you love it. The rain was always there, tapping on your windows, when you thought the whole world crumbles around you. Rain was your comforting friend.

“Ugh, it starts to rain. Make sure they have umbrellas.”, your mother spats at your father. He only nods. They seem to calm down, but the atmosphere stays uncomfortable. You sigh, but it goes gladly unheard. It felt like an eternity, but you’re finally there at the monstrous hotel, where the banquet is held. You already hear reporter, flashlights from cameras and so many people shouting. Your mind is already on the brink. The demanding look of your mother wasn’t helping at all and you pinch your dress, to calm yourself down, because your hands are trembling. Your father is the first and he gets out with such a fake smile, your mother follows him and then it was your time.

Instantly the flashlights dazzle your eyes, anxiety creeping inside of you. Your mind goes black, while your mother takes your arm, guiding you into the building. You force a smile to the reporter around you, until it’s plastered on your lips. “y/n.”. Your mother whispers at you. Before she could scold you, a familiar face appears on your sight. “Hello Mr. and Mrs. l/n. I am glad to see you.”. Abruptly your mother’s focus was on him and you internally thanked him. Erwin Smith, your best friend is captured in a hug from your father and your mother clinging to him. You felt sorry for him.

 “Erwin, I’m relieved to see you here.”, your father spoke to him with such fondness. When was the last time he spoke to you like that? “Mrs. l/n you look as beautiful as ever.”, Erwin says with a smile to your mother and you see her blushing. Disgusting. “Oh, Erwin darling, you’re flattering me.”, she replies. “You don’t mind that I take y/n with me?”, he asks gently. “Take her, we need to discuss business, anyway.”.

They didn’t even look at you, walking away to discuss some oh-so-important-business. They meant robbing the money out of people, milking them for their own benefit. “y/n, you look alluring tonight.”, he whispers in your ear and you want to punch him. “Thanks for the rescue, Erwin.”. He only waves. “I saw the look in your eyes, so it was the duty of a gentleman to rescue the princess.” A low chuckle escapes his lips and you really want to punch him. He was always so slick.

His hand is on your waist, softly guiding you. Here and there were important people and you smiled at them, talked about the weather, getting compliments. Always the same routine, but it was always too much for your mind. “By the way...”, he starts, and you look at him, while he passes you a glass full of prickling champagne. “he’s here too, so please don’t exaggerate.”.

You knew exactly who Erwin is referring to. His fingers quickly brush over your hands, a sign that he’s here. Your heart beats like crazy. You couldn’t face him. Not him, after you did-

“Does he hate me?”, you whisper, and he laughs. “After you drunkenly told him you would totally suck his dick, ugly cried and then threw up on him…I don’t know y/n.”. He was clearly joking but it hurts. “Fuck you.”. He chuckles again and you cringe so much because of the flashbacks of this one night. You never wanted to step out of your room again. Never. Erwin pats your head, grazing his fingertips over the lost strands of your hair, while you chunk down the champagne.

“Levi is on the other side of the room and he looks at me, like he wants to chop me alive.”

“What?”, you screech, not knowing how to act. “Why?”, was the next thing that escapes your lips. You don’t dare to look in the direction Erwin told you. His clear eyes lay on you, hovering over you, because he’s so huge. “Because he’s jealous.”, the blond man simply states, leaving you confused as ever.

You couldn’t reply, because you saw Levi making his way to the both of you and you want to run, quickly. In a matter of seconds, you’re heading in a random direction, not knowing where the hell you’re going. It was clear that many eyes followed you, but it doesn’t matter right now. You want to escape.

“fucking wait, brat.”, he called with his low voice and it sends shivers down your spine. The body of yours works on your own, running as your life depends on it, but unfortunately, you were too slow. His hand captures your wrist, while you’re climbing up the stairs. You nearly lost your balance.

A curse leaves your lips. “Where do you think you’re going?”, he spats while drag you downstairs. A fucking hell. “Let go, the people are looking.”, you breath, clearly feeling uncomfortable. “Fuck them, you wanted to run away like child.”, he replies.

You don’t say anything, looking anywhere but at him. The raven-haired man scoffs. “The last time you weren’t so shy at all and now you’re ignoring me and flirting with Erwin. I’m too old for plays.”, he coldly states, letting go of your wrist. Your mouth works faster than your brain. “I don’t fucking flirt with him you asshead.”, you return, clearly offended. “What?”, he slowly asks, and it feels threatening.

“you idiots, this is an important banquet, and everyone is here. Don’t make a damn scene.”. Erwin was now on your side, speaking quietly, because the people behind you started to whisper. You’re looking at the crowd, seeing your parents faces, which weren’t really pleased. Fuck. Levi scoffs. It never matters to him what others say. His reputation as a misfit in the high society fits him well. He doesn’t give a shit.

But sadly, you give a shit. “...About the shares Erwin, how could I invest in- “, you don’t know what you’re saying, but Erwin does. Your voice feels so strange, but you can’t stop. You need to hold on to the reputation your parents want so badly. He catches your back, replies to you in a different language, you think. Levi is quiet now, and you feel his eyes bore into you and it makes you tremble. He judges you.

You both were loud enough to be heard. The crowd of people disappears. They wanted a scandal, but you don’t give them one. You don’t need to feed these beasts. After a few minutes you sigh. “Thanks Erwin.”, you say to your best friend, who just smiles. “Tch.”, escapes from the lips of the raven-haired man and it makes your heart ache. He was about to turn around, but you call his name.  

He doesn’t react. “please.”, you whisper but he goes away. You set a step, but Erwin holds you, forming a silent ‘no’ with his lips. Levi’s head turns around. “chose y/n. Do you want to be a brainless princess, pampered in money or do you take your own path?”, he asks you and you nearly break down. The words hurt, because he was right. You freeze on spot and Erwin stands beside you, helplessly like you. He goes away.

It seems so fucking easy for him, but that wasn’t easy. You have no position to choose and yet he looks down on you. Anger gathers in you. You want to shout at him, you want to punch him and a small part in you wants to kiss the fuck out of him, sadly.

It was a matter of seconds that you decide what to do. You ran after him. After minutes of standing in the hallway, you ran, hoping to find the black-haired man. Nothing matters at this moment; you don’t even see Erwin’s soft smile. He’s proud of you, because you’re doing something on your own. You chose for yourself. You ran as your life depends on it. Your dress makes it hard to breathe and you were panting, but you ran, ignoring everything around you.

“Levi!”, you shout the moment you see the black hair before you on the street. He stops and the look on his face was priceless. The man was actually surprised to see you. His grey eyes are wide, looking at you, while you need to catch your breath. “y/n?”, he asks, unsure if this is really you. You realize it rains. Your neatly prepared hair is now ruined, sticks to your face, but it doesn’t matter. “You fucker.”, you spat at him. “You are jealous of fucking what?”, you shout again and Levi blinks.

He doesn’t know how to act. Your behaviour is new, and it takes some seconds for him. His ears turn red. “I wasn’t jealous.”, he replies weakly and he knows that. He’s just confused. His wet hair sticks to his face, while his beautiful eyes lay on you.

“Oh, come on!”, you laugh at him, your heart might burst. You are so brave; it also surprises you. “I know you like me, don’t act like you don’t.”. Your hand finds his well-defined chest and you push him. He takes your arm, holding you in place. “stop acting up, brat.”, he says, after his brain proceeded the situation, but you can’t have his shit anymore.

“fucking make me.”, you return.

Lips crash on lips with such force. Your breath stuck in your throat, while you don’t miss a second to move your hungry lips against his soft, intoxicated ones. You always wanted to kiss him, feeling them on your skin. It’s a hungry kiss. You both fight for dominance.

Levi holds your neck, not wanting to let go. It was hot. The rain mixes with your saliva, making it addicting. You want to drown into the feeling of his soft lips. It feels like magic, an unknown connection between you two. Levi sighs in satisfaction between some soft kisses and finally he pulls away, his face only millimetres away. You were both breathless, standing in the middle of the street and soaking wet. It doesn’t matter.

You smile and he returns it. “I guess you chose.”, he says, absorbing your eyes. “It was time.”, you brush your nose against his and then plaster a kiss on the tip. “I don’t want to know how long I had to wait, till you made the first move.”, you jokingly say but he wasn’t having it. “you mean shouting that you wanted to suck my cock and them throw up is a first move?”, he teased, and you punched him.

“Fuck you, Levi.”.

“I like you too, y/n.”, he returns and captures your lips again.

[picklesmin]

Outside A Galaxy Of My Own

(How many misadventures can one have on one planet? How many days trekked, relationships forged? How many hopeful smiles and bitter tears? How many lives lost and altered forever? (My very first fic here and Pikmin fic in general, inspired by the great @pikfic!)

-

Chapter 1: Dew, Spark, and Cinder

-

The familiar screech of horrific and yet entrancing beasts was the first thing Olimar heard as he entered the cool air of the early dawn. Even from the damp ground he stood on Olimar could see the monsters in the distance. He stretched and was actually quite certain he heard something crack. He was way too old for this.

“Another day in the grime, huh Louie? ...Louie? Louie!” Glancing over his shoulder, he was barely surprised to see his underling still there behind the glass window of the ship, crumbs on his face. “Get out here!”

Sighing as the younger Hocotation apathetically trudged out, Olimar turned the dials on the Onion and summoned pikmin from the ship’s hull. Their little comrades slid down the legs, eager to help as always.

“Morning, everyone. Sleep well?” Olimar gave the pikmin and Louie a friendly smile. “We’ve still yet to explore a certain part of the woods that I have on my map.” Pressing a button, a small pixelated map appeared on one of the many screens adorning his suit. “But luckily it’s at least close by.”

Louie bobbed his head dully, clearly oh so excited. “So I take purples and smash the creeping chrysanthemum while you harvest? Lost almost twenty yesterday.”

“Right…” Olimar’s optimism faded for a moment, a more somber one overtaking, as it did for the pikmin. The snagret had leaped out of nowhere, leaving only masacre behind and tortured screams. Just more sounds to add to Olimar’s nightmares and eternal guilt.

“That sounds good Louie.” He tried for a teasing smile. “I thought I was the Captain here.” It wasn’t quite returned, leaving the Hocotation sighing and wondering why he even bothered.

The trek wasn’t long, and the group passed the corpse of a bulborb that they ran out of time to displace before sunset. Or rather, one Olimar had to all but physically drag Louie away from cooking—and subsequently becoming a meal himself.

Hammering the hostile plant beast was easy enough, and routine even by this point. Still, Olimar found himself standing by cautiously, always waiting to see if he needed to step in. He was never sure if his concerns over his younger charge were that of being a Captain, or even of being a father.

Whistling his group away before the corpse flattened them, Olimar began to order his pikmin to the pellet posies. And...he immediately stopped.

Half their usual size and appearing frail and almost hunched over, the flowers were a baffling sight and even Louie blinked in surprise.

“Are they sick?”

Olimar felt his fear spike. Was that possible? There were so many uncharted dangers on this planet, so was there one that could poison entire gardens? Botanical threats were so many, and he already knew pikmin could become sickly and hostile. Was this only the start of a catastrophic wipe out?

Before his thoughts could terrify him further, his pikmin were already trying to destroy the flower. With just a kick the stem snapped like a stale green bean, and Olimar was too grimly fascinated to stop them.

The first clue that something was definitely different about the offspring was how each pellet only produced a single sprout, despite the colors corresponding with their onion. Olimar was nervous to make his way over, and all the more nervous to pick what appeared to be only half formed leaves.

Three baby, legitimately baby pikmin popped out.

“Captain Olimar, I sense something off about these pikmin. Some sort of deficiency is causing their suboptimal height.”

It was difficult to really focus individually on pikmin when you always had a large group, but sure enough the baby leaves really did seem to be that...babies.

“Not only that, but their leaves appear damaged or maybe even underdeveloped. Do you think the state of them has anything to do with the state their posies were found in?”

The Hocotation cast another look over his shoulder to the slightly withered looking stems. Or...what remained of them at least. They did appear so weak he was surprised they could manage to hold themselves upright.

“Peculiar,” Olimar mused with a stunned blink. “I’ve never seen such a thing...but then again, those pellet posies were incredibly small. I thought perhaps they were merely buried deep but...maybe the flowers really were stunted.”

Olimar bent down to the baby pikmin’s level and he tentatively reached towards one of their stems. With the utmost gentleness he ran a hand along the smooth leaf. It didn’t appear rough or stiff as a dry leaf would be and invoked a pleasant chitter from the pikmin. It didn’t seem to be in any pain.

But what did this mean for the pikmin then? Were they unable to ever mature? Did they not even have the same abilities their brethren did? He knew the only way to be sure of such a thing was to test that theory, but the leafs may not be able to survive the results!

“My hypothesis is that they will be generally slower than leaf pikmin as well. And leafs are already so slow! What will you use them for, Captain Olimar?”

“I…” The man blinked, at a loss. “I don’t know, actually.” It was already clear these babies wouldn’t be able to hold their own in battle. Would he, for the first time, have pet pikmin?

“Well...it’s clear that I won’t be able to have you three in combat,” he told the baby leafs. “Unless…” Perhaps he could test something.

Olimar turned back to the colony of normal sized pikmin. At the very least they didn’t appear to be viewing their new siblings with contempt. They seemed, thankfully, as accepting with the children as any.

Language barriers were always so difficult, leading to so many frustrating situations, and, unfortunately...many deaths in the field. Tapping his cheeks enough times and gesturing seemed to clue a yellow pikmin on what it was supposed to do. Although the creature certainly seemed hesitant.

“It’s alright,” Olimar assured the pikmin. “I’ll be fine, I just want to test something.”

After a moment the pikmin pressed its cheek against the other’s glove, and Olimar hissed as a powerful shock had him withdraw quickly. His pikmin shrugged apologetically.

Olimar shook his hand for a moment and then he bent down to the newly harvested yellow leaf. The tiny pikmin pressed its head against their leader’s hand as well, but Olimar was concerned when he barely felt the slightest spark. It was as weak as a static shock from a mere bedsheet.

“Hmm, quite concerning. It would appear these tiny pikmin indeed are far less stronger than the others!” the ship buzzed. “I’m unsure of what use they may be, Captain Olimar!” The machine didn’t want to say the little things were useless, but Olimar knew it was thinking it.

“I’ll...figure something out.” The Hocotation looked over to where the tiny critters were attempting to climb a berry stem. The poor little things could barely manage with their stubby legs.

Olimar looked over to Louie, who seemed to be watching the miniature pikmin as well.

“They’re small. Too small, aren’t they?”

Olimar cast Louie a wayward grin. “Oh they’ll find their place.” Hopefully not in a monster's belly.

-

That evening secure in his ship Olimar pulled back from an email with a fond laugh as he shook his head. His family had been quite excited by the thought of him having permanent pikmin...at least for the time being. And oh, trust his children to come up with the cutest names! The baby pikmin had crept curiously over, tilting their heads at the glowing monitor.

“Well, you three, what do you think about having your own names? Hm?” They continued looking inquisitively at him. “Dew, Spark, and Cinder.” Saying each individual name, he pointed to the corresponding pikmin. Spark of course being the yellow, Cinder the red, and Dew the blue.

Olimar gestured over to where he saw his young cohort heating up a bisque. “Dewy, and Louie!” he exclaimed, snickering at the rhyme the pikmin didn’t understand and that Louie seemed to roll his eyes at.

“You’re naming them now?” Louie asked, a brow raising. “You said that’s a bad idea. Can’t get attached.” Not that Louie had the inclination to adore the little aliens as his Captain did. He respected them and led them as Olimar did, but it was harder for the younger man to feel strong bonds so easily.

“Not all of them,” Olimar said, smile falling. He didn’t seem sure of it himself. “Just, er, these three. My children named them actually. I believe we have our first pygmy pikmin, Louie! They’re a lot more underdeveloped than the others and don’t seem like they might grow. Even their leaves are only half formed. I was thinking in time, they can help out through the ship. Or stay close to our campsite. I’ll find...something.”

He did want to find use for them, not just because it was routine for Olimar by this point, but he didn’t know what emotional depth pikmin had, let alone these three. He didn’t want them to think that he thought they were less capable. Which...was sort of true.

“Like I said, they’ll find their place.”

Louie watched the pygmies climb into his boss’s lap. “Like in your lap?” He sounded far more cautious about the situation. This planet was hostile and unforgiving and he knew at any second their new little friends could go from Olimar’s arms to a Bulbear’s stomach. And he also knew the...emotional repercussions that could have on Olimar.

The captain’s eyes were captured by the wide ones gazing up at his, and piercing into his heart. He knew what Louie was thinking, and he was thinking the same thing. Naming the pygmies...it was a very dangerous idea, but his children came up with the idea. And he couldn't just not do it.

“They’ll stay in the ship.”

Louie watched as Cinder clambered her way over to him and shook his leg as she tried to hug it. “Okay,” he shrugged.

-

The wide array of space at their window, Olimar peered into the black canvas littered with stars. It had been an interesting day, one he was eager to record if his exhaust allowed it. And also, if he could find time between dashing back and forth from trying to keep the pygmies from getting into mischief. It seemed that them being as different as they were made them far less inclined to listen to him. It felt like when Oliver and Lily were toddlers!

“Good night, Louie.” The captain yawned, and also pat the interior of the ship as a silent good night. He couldn’t resist a grin over at his charge resting in the other bunk. “Don’t let the bed pikmin bite.”

“Nnn….bite back,” was the only half asleep mumble he received as Louie buried deeper under his blankets.

Dew, Spark and Cinder were still at Olimar’s feet and he gestured to the cargo where the leaf children could sleep. They scurried passed him into his bunk.

“There’s barely enough room for me, you know!” he told the leaf babies as he discarded his suit in favor of some furry pajamas. He didn’t seem to have any objection to the idea however.

As Olimar tiredly lay on the bed he pushed himself up as the pygmies settled on him. They merely sat there, their cute little stems bobbing around as they looked at him with adoring eyes. Olimar felt his heart threatening to melt on him.

“You really need to stop with that before you make me adore you,” he told them, but he knew it was too late for that. “You probably can't even understand me...can you?” The three leafs tilted their heads and Olimar chuckled. “Probably not…It’s very late. You should go to sleep now,” he told the young pikmin. They curled into him like kittens and Olimar sighed. He couldn’t deny it was nice to hold someone after so many nights cold and alone.

-

(Hope I didn’t do too badly, still getting the world down despite my endless researching haha. We started on a cute note...but it probably won’t stay cute for long ;)

Although each chapter is a story on its own many will still have linking elements, such as Dew, Spark, and Cinder. Longer ones will also be specified in parts in the chapter title.

There will be no romance, most likely (besides Olimar’s wife), and everything will be more platonic, especially considering Louie and Olimar and Charlie and Alph, as those take on more parental dynamics here! We’ll range from super cute to super sad and everything in between. Forgive me if the formatting is off, this is my very first attempt!)

[thdorkmagnet]

The Snuggly Duckling (Star is Rapunzel AU part 3)

Summary: A series of one-shots and multi-chapters proving why Star Butterfly should be considered a Disney Princess, as Star and company take over the roles of all your favorite Disney Princess characters! (Starco inevitable)

Check out my other stuff on Fanfiction! 

Disclaimer: Star vs and all its characters are owned by Daron Nefcy and Disney. Tangled belongs to Disney. All rights go to their respective owners.

Part 1, Part 2

Marco was beginning to regret agreeing to Star's deal. After spending close to three hours in the forest trying to keep Star from accidentally injuring himself on the many, many things that caught her eye, Marco was sore and tired and just done with everything for the day. He had been stung by at least three bees, had nearly drowned in a nearby stream after Star slipped and fell in leaving him to rescue her, and been covered in hundreds of tiny needles when he had fallen into a thorn bush trying to help Star get her long, flowing hair out of the tree it got tangled in. So to say Marco was having a bad day would be an understatement, he was having one of the worst days of his life.

Star, however, seemed to be having the best day ever as she recklessly threw herself at whatever strange and unknown thing caught her eye. All with a bright smile on her face which made Marco's terrible day a little bit more bearable. Then again, every so often she would stop in the middle of her dangerous frolicking to panic over her mom finding out she was gone, worrying what she would say and how she would react to her daughter leaving without permission. Marco didn't have the whole story but he was beginning to put the pieces together. It seemed Star had an overbearing and controlling mother who seemed to think the outside world was too dangerous for the blond, hence why she had never left. Not only that but apparently Star had snuck out without permission in order to go see the floating lights, which had her battling over her wants and her guilt.

To be honest, it really upset him to see her that way. She was too sweet and innocent to be... wait, what was he thinking?! He had known her for less than a day, the beginning of which he had been her captive. So why would her emotions being effecting him in this way? Why did he care at all? And why did he continually blush every time he was near her for that matter? Ugh, maybe Star wasn't the only one who was at war with herself.

And so it was probably because of this, as he watched her bawl her eyes out of nowhere for (what was this now?) the fifth time in an hour, he stood there awkwardly, trying to decide what he should do. The girl sniffed trying to wipe the tears out of her eyes and looking so lost and guilty that the boy could take no more, walking over to her, determined to cheer her up.

He reached out a hand to put on her shoulder but quickly retracted it, thinking better of it. “Um, hey,” he said nervously and Star turned to look at him in surprise and the young thief felt his throat close up with her attention now on him. He coughed into his hand, rubbing the back of his neck with the other. “Are you... doing okay?” He finally managed to get out and nearly slapped himself for saying something so stupid. Of course she wasn't, she was crying!

But the blond didn't seem to take offense as she simply muttered, “Yeah, I guess.” Her face somehow fell even more and he once again pushed himself to say something to help her. “Well I don't know the whole story but if you want me to take you back I can,” he said, giving a wide smile.

But the girl's eyes only grew wide and she suddenly grabbed him by the front of his jacket, making him squeak in surprise and blush bright red. “No way!” she shouted in concern. “I-I can't go home, not till I see the floating lights!”

“Okay, okay,” Marco said quickly, raising his hands in an innocent gesture. “We'll go see the floating lights!”

Star breathed a sigh of relief, finally releasing him from her grip. Marco quickly straightened out his clothes as he added scoldingly, “But if we're gonna keep traveling together, then you need to be more careful. I know this is your first time out but that doesn't mean you can just keep running head first into danger.”

Marco looked up to see he was now alone, the girl already breaking his rule before she even heard it, her long hair being dragged off in the direction she had gone. “Like that,” Marco groaned tiredly, running a hand slowly down his face. He turned to see Janna on his shoulder and he asked, “Is she always like this?”

Janna nodded knowingly.

Suddenly they heard her call to them from a distance, “Come on, guys! I think I just found us a place to eat.”

Both Marco and Janna released a simultaneous sigh, before the boy muttered, “Come on, we better make sure she doesn't hurt herself.” He then trudged after his blond companion with the small bat perched on his shoulder, following the path of hair that dragged behind wherever Star went.

…

Eclipsa hummed a little tune as she walked, enjoying the sunlight and the cool breeze that ruffled through the trees, trying not to think about her Flower that she had left back in the tower, alone. When she had first brought Star home to live with her, she had never left her side, only going out for supplies when absolutely necessary. She was terrified that if she left Star alone that she would be stolen away, despite the precautions she had taken to keep her safe and hidden from any prying eyes. But then her original flower had been the same way, but a grave oversight had caused her to nearly lose her life source. The moment it was taken, Eclipsa had been in a panic and had been desperate to get it back, so desperate that she was willing to take the young princess that inherited it's powers.

For a while, the fear of losing her source of eternal youth had caused her to be overprotective not allowing her new daughter outside for any reason, despite Star's beggings. Now though, she would be lying if she said she was only protecting Star because of her powers. Over the years her selfish intentions to horde the girl's power for herself had turned into a familiar warmth that she couldn't quite displace. She cared about Star to a degree but lately she had been growing frustrated with her constant longing toward the outside world. Did she really not appreciate what she had done for her? Was living in a tower, safe from danger and protected from anyone who might do her harm, such a bad thing?

It frightened Eclipsa more than a little to know that Star seemed to know about some connection she had to her past, at least on some kind of subconscious level. What if she discovered the truth of what she had done? The woman shook her head, clearing herself of such nonsense thoughts. That was impossible. Still, she couldn't quite shake the feeling that something was wrong with her daughter. Something about the way she acted was very suspicious to Eclipsa but she couldn't quite figure out what or why.

Suddenly there was a shuffling from the bushes up ahead and she instantly went on high alert as she slowly approached it, staring at the area with fervent attention. She wasn't scared by whatever could be lurking in the woods, since they were completely free of any sort of wild beast or dangerous animal, but rather she was concerned that it could possibly be an outsider in which case she needed to keep them as far away from Star as possible... by whatever means necessary. She reached for the small dagger she always kept tucked out of sight in her belt, just in case. She hadn't gotten very far on her journey so far, she was still in close enough distance to the tower that there was a slim possibility they could find it and she wasn't taking that chance.

She reached out a hand and as silently and swiftly as she could, parted the bush to see what was lurking behind them. But she only stared at shock at the sight of a tall sleek horse, looking at its reflection in a small pond of water, taking bizarre poses as it seemed quite impressed with itself and one of her eyebrows shot up. Definitely not what she was expecting but then again, it could have been worse.

That was when she noticed that the horse was wearing a saddle and decked out in the familiar gold pattern that the nearby kingdom of Corona was so fond of, the sun symbol showcased several times by the horse's self-admiring display and Eclipsa's eyes widened. This wasn't just a stray, it was a palace horse... one that was missing its rider. Star.

Eclispsa was racing back to the tower in a flash, already breathing heavily as she tried not to think of every terrible scenario as she fought her way through the suddenly unforgiving vegetation and back to her only source of life and youth. What if she was taken? What if she was dead? If something had happened to her, what would Eclipsa do? She would be dead in probably a day or two and that wasn't an option. She had given up too much to lose her immortality now.

Finally, finally, she made it back to the familiar cave that hid her daughter from the rest of the world, only now its true level of safety was unknown, as it had quite possibly failed to do its job. She reached the base of the tower, trying to hide how frantic and out of breath she was as she called up in the sweetest tone she could, “Star, let down your hair!”

There was a pause that seemed to last the ancient woman a lifetime, but there was no response from above. “Star! Let down your hair, please!” she tried again, this time her fear showing through some.

Still no answer. “Sweetie? Sweetie can you hear me?!” she practically screamed up to the tower and when she received no response again, she could wait no longer. She quickly ran to the side of the tower and began tearing brick and stone aside as the loose construction she had built there long ago was pulled free, revealing the hidden entrance up the tower. She had used this often when Star was a child but once she had gotten old enough to preform the task of hauling her mom up the side, Eclipsa had opted for that, hiding the secret entrance in case of an emergency. Like right now.

The woman climbed up to the top, throwing the trapdoor open as she looked around the dark tower with terror. She did a quick search, screaming Star's name as she checked over every inch of the area: throwing curtains aside so roughly they almost fell off their pole, flipping the sheets off of both her and Star's bed, actually breaking the door on the closet as she slammed it open with such a strong force the door snapped off and fell to the floor. Still nothing.

Star was gone.

Eclipsa's breathing had grown sporadic, shifting between being short and shallow to long and strenuous as she clutched the sides of her head in pure fear and dread, worse than when her original flower had been taken. Because now, she had no idea where Star was. Star was gone. She was going to die. She had no clues, nothing to go off of, no way of even knowing where Star could possibly be. Had Star run away? Had she been taken? Was she in danger and now being used by someone else who knew of what power she held? No, that couldn't be, she had taken precautions, but... she had done the same with the tower and look what that had gotten her.

The woman collapsed to her knees, too distraught and overcome by grief to stand, tears falling freely from her eyes. Star was gone, she was really truly gone. She had failed, failed to protect what mattered to her the most. She should have never left her, she shouldn't have taken her eyes off of Star for a minute, but she had and now... now she had lost her source of life and it was all over for her. Her head slowly sank toward the ground, until a bright light was cast right in her eye and she cried out in pain and surprise. She looked over at the source, seeing a gleam of something underneath one of the floorboards of the stairs. She slowly rose to her feet and walked over to it, her eyes never leaving the glittering object hidden underneath the worn wood. She bent down and pried the board loose, which came off rather easily, too easily in fact, and she looked inside to see what was some sort of make-shift hiding place. And there sat in the center of it was a satchel, a glittering object half-way hidden within.

She lifted up the bag, reaching a hand in to pull out whatever was inside, but the moment she took in the sight of the crown she gasped and dropped the object in shock, the regal headpiece hitting the ground with an echoing clang. Eclipsa just stared down at the crown she had thought and hoped she would never see again, a million worries and questions flowing around her head as she tried to make sense of it all. But thinking quickly she began searching the satchel more thoroughly, looking anywhere and everywhere for some kind of clue of who had done this to her, of who had brought old memories back into her home and taken away her precious Flower.

She was close to giving up when she spotted a small marking underneath the bag, etched into the fabric and she brought it closer to her face, reading it carefully, “Property of Marco Diaz”. The woman's eyes narrowed as she recognized the name of the wanted thief that had been the source of many discussions around the kingdom. And now he had something to do with her daughter's disappearance.

She quickly grabbed the knife off her belt, her hand clenching it so tightly, her knuckles went white, as she began devising a plan to find and get her Flower back. First things first, she needed more information on this Diaz boy and she would start at the most likely place to get the answers she needed...

…

Star was squealing as she stood before the large wooden establishment in the very heart of the woods. She could smell a delicious aroma wafting through the air and decided that this place was a restaurant of some kind. Pleasant music could be heard within, a lively banter that was sure to get even the most tone-deaf person tapping their foot in rhythm. Everything about the place (from the outside at least) seemed warm and inviting and Star was tempted to run in there without Marco, but she figured waiting for him would probably be the right thing to do. Still if he didn't get there soon her patience just might beat out her common courtesy.

But luckily that wasn't the case, as the sound of rattling bushes drew her attention to behind her, where her guide emerged covered head to toe in leaves from the girl's 'brilliant' shortcut. “Oh good, you made it!” she said, clapping her hands together excitedly.

Marco just stared at the building skeptically, an eyebrow slowly raising as he asked, “Star, what is this place?”  

“Ohh just found a place for us to eat... all on my own,” she said, trying to look and act modest but was clearly boasting her accomplishment which made Marco roll his eyes.

“Righhhtt, well I'm not so sure about this place, Star,” the young thief admitted, continuing to eye the place suspiciously.

“What why?” Star asked defensively.

“Well first of all, it was built suspiciously in the middle of nowhere,” Marco pointed out.

“So was my tower,” the blond girl argued.

“Yeah, I know,” Marco replied, hands to his hips. “Which is exactly why I don't trust it.”

“Aw, come on, Marco,” Star pressed, elbowing the boy in the side. “Don't worry so much.”

“Hey, worrying is what keeps me alive.”

“Yeah, but look at this place, it looks super safe,” the girl continued, sweeping an arm out to showcase the establishment, stopping on a sign outside the restaurant. “I mean, it's called 'The Snuggly Duckling', how bad can it honestly be?”

“Other than the fact that somebody in there might recognize my face and turn me in,” Marco dead-panned. But his voice regained some life to it as he insisted, “Look Star, I have a bad feeling about his place, I don't think going in is a good idea.”

“Well let's put it to a vote,” Star said authoritatively.

“Vote? But there's only two of us.”

“Nuh uh, don't forget about Janna,” the blond said, pointing to the bat still perched on Marco's shoulder who was now him an angry glare for forgetting about her. “Oh right, Janna, don't want to forget about her,” Marco said nervously, his eyes begging her to agree with him.

The blond cleared her throat before saying, “All in favor of not going inside this awesome and totally safe place I found and instead going hungry for the rest of the day, raise your hand.”

Nobody made any move Marco just grumbling, “Oh come on, this is totally ridiculous.”

“I said raise your hand!” the girl shouted at the top of her lungs, stunning the boy and causing his hand to shoot up.

“There, that's better,” Star said, all smiles once more. “Now all in favor of ignoring Marco and going inside this totally cool looking place, raise your hand.”

Her and Janna raised their hands and Marco sighed, putting a hand to his face, before trying one last desperate attempt to change their minds, “Or maybe we could just not eat anything right now, I mean, come on how hungry are we really?” He chuckled nervously, before a loud rumbling from his belly sounded, lighting his cheeks up red and causing Star and Janna to stare, the bat with a smirk on her fluffy face.

“See even your belly agrees with me,” Star said, turning on her heels and starting up the short path to the door, almost skipping her way there. Janna abandoned his shoulder to follow after her and Marco shouted desperately, “Star!” but Star was ignoring him now as she continued on unopposed. The boy groaned still having a bad feeling in his gut but could do nothing about it now. He looked down to his stomach and growled in frustration, “Traitor.” His gaze returned to the girl, now halfway there at this point.

His protective side started to take hold, making him want to rush after her but he was hesitant still wanting to try and talk her out of it if he could. But then the tasty smells in the air reached his nose, making his mouth water and setting his empty belly off once more. He hadn't eaten anything all day and the effect of his hunger was starting to get the better of him. So he swallowed down the uncomfortable feeling and raced after the girl and her pet, catching up to them quickly and now begrudgingly by her side once more, pulling up his hood to try and hide his face as best he could.

The blond grinned, glad to see her friend had changed his mind and decided to join her. Wait, was he her friend yet? They hadn't known each other for very long but she already felt comfortable around him and could easily refer to him as a friend, even if she wasn't sure how he felt on the subject. She was definitely beginning to feel that way, though.

Regardless, it still felt nice knowing he was there and would be a part of whatever memories she made inside, everything feeling so much better with him around, and Star smiled to let him know just that. But the young man was still too busy looking around nervously.

“Marco relax, nobody is going to recognize you,” Star told him.

“Yeah well, if I get arrested it's on you.” Marco groaned unhappily.

“Look Marco, I may not have been outside before, but I got instincts too,” the long-haired girl stated, pointing to herself. Marco opening the door for her to step inside. “And mine are saying that we have nothing to worry aboooo-”

Star's voice slowly drifted off as she took in the interior of the restaurant. While on the outside the place had looked warm, cozy and inviting, the inside was dark, scary and uncomfortable. Lamps hung from posts with jagged, rusted metal protruding out of it, looking like an instant health hazard, and the gentle swinging of the lights only somehow cast more shadows into the room if that was possible. Weapons of all shapes and sizes covered almost every surface sticking out of walls, floors, tables, counters, everything and where there weren't weapons, the thousands upon thousands of scrapes and holes on every wooden surface were signs that they had at one point. Near the corner what looked to be the remains of a smashed table, thrown to the side along with several wooden barrels, no doubt containing questionable contraband.

And that was just the decorations, the people looked just as terrifying as the layout of the place, every resident of the bar some sort of large Monster, all looking muscled and toned and ready to rip the nearest person to shreds. Some had scars on their bodies or were carrying a weapon of some kind and the look in their eye, as they turned to see the two unknowing teens entering, was one that could make your skin crawl. There was murder behind every pair of eyes she saw and Star felt her body nearly freeze up right there in fear. These were ruffians and thugs if she ever saw any and the girl silently regretted not heeding her mother's or Marco's words more closely and instead rushing head first into this situation.

She held her frying pan out as a threat to ward anyone off who even thought about coming near her and quickly gathered up her hair into her free arm in fear of it getting it cut. She also felt Janna duck securely into her hair to hide. “I told you this was a bad idea,” she heard a very frightened Marco whisper into her ear.

“Okay fine maybe you were right,” she whispered back not letting her eyes cease their constant roam around the room for even a second. “This was a bad idea.”

“Don't worry, I'll handle it,” Marco reassured her quietly, before raising his voice as he addressed the room, “Uh sorry to interrupt you all, me and my friend seemed to have wandered into here by mistake, so we'll just be leaving you now.” He put an arm on Star's shoulder and began to lead her back the short few steps they had come. But then he heard the door slam shut behind them and he and Star both swerved on their feet to see a young man, looking close to their age with pink hair and horns, pale purplish skin and a feisty look in his three eyes blocking off their path to freedom. “Not so fast,” the boy said in a hard tone. He took a step forward, now face to face with a sweating Marco, their faces only inches apart as his red eyes narrowed. “You look... familiar.”

“W-What, no, no I don't,” the boy in red stuttered awkwardly.

“No, I've definitely seen you somewhere before,” the young ruffian continued, tapping a finger to his chin in thought.

“Well, I have no idea where that would be,” Marco said, trying to put an innocent smile on his face, but it came out as more of a grimace.

“Yeah he says he doesn't know so leave him alone,” Star quickly jumped in to his defense.

“You better tell your girlfriend not to talk to me like that,” the pink-haired teen said.

“Oh no, she's not my girlfriend,” Marco quickly said, a little too quickly and he felt his cheeks turn pink.

Suddenly, he felt a large hand grab the back of his hood and rip it down, making him squeak in surprise and fumbled to pull it back up again. He mentally chastised himself for not paying closer attention to what was happening behind him and instead getting distracted by the other boy's accusation toward him. Marco failed to regain his hood, whoever had grabbed it, refusing to release his hold and instead staring down at him intensely, making his skin burn.

“Hey yeah, I think your right Tom, I've seen him before too,” the lobster like monster said, his voice high-pitched and his eyes beady and unfocused. His sharp claw was what held his hood in its vice-like grip and Marco knew the struggle for freedom was futile at this point.

“Hey stop, leave him alone!” Star screamed, seeing her friend in peril and quickly rushing to his rescue, slamming her frying pan into the Monster's claws without thinking. “Ouch!” the lobster screamed, letting go of the boy and rubbing his now aching claw with a hurt look. “What'd you do that for?”

Star had grabbed Marco's arm and yanked him to her side in a second and she looked over at the Monster with an angry glare. “Well you were the one who just grabbed Marco out of nowhere, not cool!” Star shouted, pointing her frying pan at the Monster accusingly.

Marco just groaned and face-palmed. “Starrrr,” he muttered under his breath.

“What?” the girl asked, before her eyes widened in realization at her slip up. “Ohhhh.”

“Marco,” Tom said, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “As in Diaz.”

“Uhhh, no,” the boy tried weakly.

“Oh yeah, I've seen his wanted posters all over the place, he's worth a lot of cash,” one of the other Monsters, this one a large bear creature with a horn on the top of its head, said.

“Is that true?” Star asked her companion and Marco whispered over his shoulder, “Maybe just a... little bit.”

“Meat Fork,” Tom said. “Go get the knights and bring 'em here.” The warthog Monster saluted before obeying, exiting the building quickly.

“Oh no, that's not necessary,” Marco assured them, him and Star now standing back to back with each other as they were surrounded by the greedy Monsters. The two grimaced and Star held her pan out in warning, while Marco just did his best to try and sway the Monster's decision in the slightest. “I'm sure if we all just keep calm and talk about this we can form some sort of compromise.”

Tom scoffed. “The only compromise we care about is the one where you let us turn you in and collect the reward.”

“Oh great,” Marco sighed in defeat.

Star looked around at the Monster's fearfully before pleading, “Come on guys, please don't do this. All I want is to go see the floating lights and I need Marco to take me there because I've never been outside before and I've been dreaming of seeing them my whole life! Can't you guys at least try and understand?!” Star was practically screaming at this point and everyone, Marco included, could only stare dumbfounded at the blond's outburst.

“Uhh, yeah I guess so, but we still need the money,” Tom said, finally breaking the silence.

The others all nodded and grumbled their agreement before advancing on the two teens once more. Star and Marco gasped, the boy raising his arms, ready for a fight and the girl raising her weapon over her head, preparing to strike. “Okay, fine then, bring it on!” the girl screamed in a blood-thristy tone. “I'll fight you guys off if it means seeing the floating lights!”

“Wait stop!!” a voice yelled from the crowd and everyone froze, all turning to see a muscular frog Monster, staring at the two teens in concern.

“Buff Frog what is it?” Tom asked.

“These two teens just like us,” he said, looking between his fellow criminals and saying, “They have dream, same as we do.”

Tom just rolled his eyes and let out a long sigh. “Buff Frog sit back down, your just embarrassing yourself,” the boy said sarcastically. He looked over to the still frightened Marco saying, “Sorry about this, ever since he had kids he's been all sentimental and junk.”

“Aww that's so sweet,” Star cooed, to which Marco immediately shushed her, not wanting to draw more attention on themselves than they already had.

“I will not sit down,” the frog argued, keeping a strong and proud stance as he continued. “Not when I see something very wrong happening.”

“We're murderers Buff Frog, don't you think it's a little late for that?” Tom pointed out in exasperation.

“Yeah, are we seriously gonna listen to this guy?” a new voice spoke up, his voice high-pitched as a small bird Monster emerged from the crowd, violently pushing his way through before hopping onto a nearby barstool so he came up to about half the height of the amphibian. “I mean, why shouldn't we just take what is rightfully ours?”

“Because Ludo,” Buff Frog argued. “I have dream once and know for fact you all had one as well.”

The other Monsters shared a look with one another before nodding and grumbling their agreement. Buff Frog turned to Tom, who was still standing stonily and unmoved by the Monster's speech. “And we all know how badly you wish to be world famous singer like favorite boy band.”

Tom flushed, clenching his teeth in anger. “You have no proof of that.” He then turned to the small kappa Monster, who was pouting from his position on the barstool. “And you, Ludo, wish to be big and muscular so that you get lots of ladies.”

“That is not true!” Ludo screamed in outrage. “I also want people to look up to me!”

Buff Frog then preceded to pull out a large ax out of nowhere and flung it toward a corner, where the trapped musician Ruberiot sat on a small stool, his ankle chained to keep him trapped there. The ax hit just above his head, cutting the feather on his hat in half and he shakily began to play a janky tune on the accordion in his hands.

“What's going on?” Star asked her guide in confusion.

“I... think he's about to sing,” Marco explained, equally as stunned as his friend.

Tom next to them sighed and crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Here we go again,” he mumbled with a roll of all three of his eyes.

“I malicious mean and scary,” Buff Frog began, storming closer to Star and Marco who took an immediate step back, fear written all over their faces. “Sneer could curdle dairy. Violence wise my hands not cleanist.” He looked down to the two's feet who followed his gaze and spotted the white outline of what was once a body and they jumped back in alarm, letting out a small gasp of surprise.

“But despite things I took and intimidating look...” The frog hopped up onto a stage, where a spotlight suddenly shined on him out of nowhere. “Always yearned to be concert pianist.”

“What?” both teens said incredulously, while next to them Tom just face-palmed. “Yep, this is happening,” he grumbled to himself.

“Can't you see me on stage performing Mozart?” Buff Frog continued, now playing from a large piano, his webbed fingers moving surprisingly delicately against the keys, the lively upbeat tune actually pretty catchy. “Tickling ivies till they gleam!”

“What does that even mean?” Star asked her friend with a raised eyebrow, who shrugged.

“No clue,” he replied.

“Yes rather be called deadly for killer showtune medley,” Buff Frog sang, his hand sweeping across piano, hitting every note on the way, going so fast in fact that it sent some of them flying out toward the crowd, Star holding her pan up to block a few, while one nailed Ludo in the eye, making him wail in pain. “For way down deep inside got a dream!”

Tom just scoffed. “Oh please, like anybody is buying this.”

“He's got a dream! He's got a dream!” several of the Monster in the back sang, bouncing up and down to the rhythm much to Tom's shock, who hid his face in his hands to hide his embarrassment for his cohorts.

“See ain't as cruel and viscous as I seem,” the frog continued, smiling wildly now, as he winked over to the two teens, who both chuckled at the unexpected action. “While I do like breaking femurs, count me with dreamers, cause way down deep inside I got a dream!”

The amphibian continued to play his tune, the sweet song drifting easily through the crowd of Monsters who all were now getting into the song, humming along with the tune.

“Well this is certainty... strange,” Marco said, looking genuinely unsure how to feel about the sudden song number that had just broken out.

“Well at least they aren't killing us,” Star pointed out. “Maybe we should just relax and try and enjoy it.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Marco agreed, not really seeing any other way around it. But suddenly the two were grabbed from behind by a grinning Lobster Claws, making both of them let out startled shouts. “Ooh, ooh, my turn!” the hard-headed Monster shouted, dragging the two over to the stage against their will, ignoring their protests.

“I've got scars and lumps and bruises,” Lobster Claws began his verse, keeping his tone light and cheerful. “Plus something here that oozes,” he added, holding up his arm right in the red thief's face, making Marco gag. “And let's not even mention my complexion!”

“Boo get off the stage!” Bearicorn yelled from the crowd, growing tired of the song, but Lobster Claws ignored him and continued to sing anyways.

“But despite my voices that's raw,” he sang off key, making several Monsters cover their ears. “My beady eyesight and my claws...” he held up his namesake for both Star and Marco to observe closely.

“I really want to make a love connection!” Lobster Claws declared, hugging the two close to him with a love-sick puppy dog face.

“Awww,” Star said with bright, shining eyes.

“Can't you see me with a special little lady,” the Monster continued to drone, looking lost in his fantasies as he sat in a small tub beside a very annoyed looking Ludo, who sat with his arms crossed and a deep hateful glare on his face. “Rowing in a rowboat down the stream,” he continued, using a table leg as a make-shift paddle as he used it to push him across the room, Tom watching him pass by with narrowed eyes, still unable to believe any of this was happening.

Next thing anyone knew, Lobster Claws had the still unwilling Ludo attached to a rope around his middle, a pair of lopsided wings on his back. The small kappa's position hadn't changed at all, his arms still crossed across his chest as he was hoisted into the air by the still singing crustacean. “Though I'm one disgusting blighter, I'm a lover not a fighter,” Lobster Claws sang proudly.

“Untie me or your dead,” Ludo hissed, finally looking over at the Monster with a death glare.

But the lobster was too lost in his own thoughts as he simply sighed, hugging his end of the rope tight. “Cause way down deep inside I've got a dream!” He then gave Ludo a small push sending him circling around the room, his arms never leaving their crossed position.

Star and Marco watched wide-eyed as Ludo passed by them, before sharing startled looks with each other as the other Monsters in the room repeated the same verse from before, Lobster Claws cutting in every so often with his own verse. “He's got a dream.”

“I've got a dream.”

“He's got a dream.”

“And I know one day romance will reign supreme.”

Out of nowhere, Lobster Claws appeared behind the two and they let out audible screams of fright. “Though my face leaves people screaming.”

“Well yeah, when you sneak up on people it does,” Star mumbled, still trying to will her racing heart down.

Lobster Claws gave them an apologetic grin, before continuing on with his part in the song, “There's a child behind it dreaming,” his eyes seemed to shimmer as he gazed off into the distance. He pulled the two into another unwanted hug, nearly crushing them with his unknown strength. “Like everybody else, I've got a dream.”

The room broke into a euphoria of other Monsters confessing their dreams, showing off their talents to the two young intruders. Star and Marco didn't mind, giving them their full attention, though mostly because they were just glad they weren't being murdered and would continue on with the distraction for as long as they could. Tom stayed out of the way of this, not caring in the slightest to join them. But when he was suddenly surrounded by the rest of the Monsters, as well as Star and Marco, the boy in red asked, “So what's your dream?”

“Mine?” Tom asked, not quite sure he had heard him right. Marco nodded though and Tom's eyes narrowed to near slits as he hissed out between clenched teeth, “I. Don't. Sing.”

“But-” Buff Frog started to argue, only to be interrupted by Tom.

“I don't sing!” Tom screamed at them from the top of his lungs and everyone quickly backed away from him with noticeable cringes.

But once they had Lobster Claws muttered under his breath, “Spoil sport.”

“So now what?” Marco asked and his eyes widened as all eyes hovered on him. “Wha- me!” he squeaked nervously.

“Go on Marco, you'll be great!” Star reassured him, giving him a push forward and the boy was forced to stagger into the spotlight to avoid tripping on his own feet. Once he was facing the crowd again, his face turning an unhealthy shade of red, he opened his mouth and sang awkwardly, “I have dreams like you, no really.” He swallowed as his voice cracked on the last line, but an encouraging thumbs up from Star on the sidelines gave Marco a burst of bravery as he continued more confidently. “Just much less, touchy feely. It mostly happens somewhere warm and sunny.”

Star felt her cheeks flush at the clear, smooth tone that was Marco's singing voice. She hadn't expected it to sound so good and her hammering heart was proof that she was enjoying getting to hear it. The boy also seemed to be enjoying himself as he smiled, his eyes closing and his voice rising to more confident levels with each word. “On an island that I own. Tanned, rested and alone. Surrounded by enormous piles of money!”

The others cheered, surprising Marco as he was lifted off the ground by dozens of claws and paws, hefting him into the air by his limbs, where he froze and went stiff, not wanting this kind of attention from them. But before he could complain, he was tossed screaming into the air, where his girlish squeals went ignored once Star stood up on one of the tables and the Monsters turned their attention onto her, Marco slamming into the ground a second later with a loud grunt of pain.

“I've got a dream!” She sang, raising a hand into the air, a bright infectious smile on her face. Marco sat up, rubbing his head as he caught sight of the girl through the crowd of people, his eyes instantly going wide.  “I've got a dream!” Marco's and every Monster's mouth dropped open at the sweet, silky singing voice the girl had. Everyone was instantly entranced on her every word and movement, but none moreso than Marco, who found brain cells frying on every note as his heart rate spiked to abnormal and probably unhealthy levels.

“I just want to see the floating lanterns gleam,” she continued with a far-off look as she spoke of her dream, her eyes twinkling like her namesake, but her voice remained proud and strong, never missing a note, as she flawlessly carried the playful tune. A massive cheer followed this declaration and the smile on her face was so pure and innocent that it could have melted even the darkest of hearts with but a glance. And to all onlookers she seemed like she belonged on stage, in the limelight, like it was where she was always meant to be.

“And with every passing hour I'm so glad I left my tower. Like all you lovely folks I've got a dream.” Marco just watched her solo in a state of awe, noticing the way the spotlight reflected off of her long hair, creating an almost halo around her pretty head as she smiled the sweetest smile he had ever seen in his life. She was so happy and at that moment he would have done anything to keep that look on her face always.

“She's got a dream!” The crowd sang, before pointing back and forth at each other, as they took over the singing portion for a moment. “He's got a dream! They've got a dream! We've got a dream!”

Meanwhile, Marco, who had moved to a fairly secluded corner of the restaurant away from the riled up crowd. He looked over to see Janna and a rat doing some sort of exchange, the bat handing the rodent a piece of gold and receiving a tiny bowl of some sort of food within. The two animals quickly froze and swerved to look over at the boy with narrowed eyes. Marco raised an eyebrow at the odd sight, before saying with a fair amount of concern, “I don't even want to know.”

The small bat just shrugged and  and quickly began eating the food in front of her and Marco was about to comment to the creature about the importance of knowing what your food was before ingesting it, when he was suddenly grabbed by the front of his shirt and pulled forward, now standing in the middle of the crowd. He looked around in confusion, wondering what the heck was going on, while the Monsters just seemed content on singing their number rather than explain anything to the confused young man. “See our differences ain't really that extreme, we're one big team!”

Suddenly the Monster that had grabbed him, pointed to an ox Monster across the room, who raised his foot, preparing to stomp it down on the board beside him. The exact board he was standing on, Marco realized. “Wait no!” Marco screamed in protest but the ox carried out with his plan, slamming his hoofed foot down with all his might sending Marco flying across the room and into a spin where he landed on a barrel at the very back of the room. But the thief wasn't offered a moment to rest as his weight caused it to shift and start rolling forward, Marco trying to frantically walk backwards fast enough to keep himself from falling off. “No, no, stop, stop, stop!” he yelled in a panic. But his terror only grew as he saw the Monsters now tossing flames back and forth to each other across the room and his heart dropped, knowing there was no way to stop from passing under the lit torches. “Star, Janna, help!” he screamed. But these two offered no help, Star suddenly missing from the scene and Janna just watching the show beside her new rat buddy. “Traitor!” he screamed to the bat. But he then had to focus his attention on dodging flames left and right, while the song continued at its rapid, upbeat pace. “Call us brutal, sick, sadistic and grotesquely optimistic, cause way down deep inside we got a dream!”

The moment Marco was passed the immediate danger of third degree burns he breathed a sigh of relief before his barrel hit a chair causing him to fall off, being caught in the waiting arms of Star. “Hey Marco! That looked like fun, can I go next?!” she smiled down at him, oblivious to his previous plight.

“What no, Star. That wasn't a game, my life was in danger!”

“Uh huh, cool,” she said, clearly not listening as she looked around at everything else going on around her and Marco just sighed knowing it was pointless when she was like this. “Can you put me down now, please?” he asked instead.

As for the rest of the restaurant, different members of the crowd had began chanting the same phrase over and over again while wild, rambunctious antics broke out all over the restaurant.

“I've got a dream!” Tossing barrels, boxes, sometimes even each other back and forth across the room.

“I've got a dream!” Some swinging from the chandeliers raining their full cups of rum down onto the bar below.  

“I've got a dream!” Ludo still hanging from the ropes with silent annoyance was surrounded by singing patrons who all seemed to be way too into the song at this point and he rolled his eyes.

“I've got a dream!” Someone doing a series of backflips across the entire length of the store, nearly hitting the still recovering Marco who dodged out of the way as the athletic Monster launched himself out the window shattering it into a million pieces.

The young man looked at the window in shock, before he felt an arm loop through his, looking over to see Star with a bright smile on her face which seemed to set off some kind of electric spark through his body, making his brain turn instantly to mush. “Come on, Marco! It's time for the grand finale.”

The boy didn't argue or fight as the two made it to the center of the room, in the spotlight once more as everyone in the room sang in perfect harmony, “Yes why down deep inside we've got a dreaaaaammmmm!” They all held that note for as long as they could before the music finally cut off and a loud cheer rang through the restaurant a final time, everyone throwing their hands into the air, some raising their cups before gulping down the intoxicating liquid within.

Ruberiot let out a tired sigh as he finally relaxed, letting his tired arms drop as he settled lazily down on his stool. “Finally,” he moaned in relief, glad the musical number was over.

“One more time!” Lobster Claws yelled and the musician looked on the verge of fainting as everyone cheered their support for the idea.

But Ruberiot was saved by Tom who suddenly yelled from the front of the room, “No! No more singing!”

“Awwww,” came the collective response, all of them sounding like a bunch of disappointed kids, and the Monster teen just face-palmed again.

“I'm working with a bunch of idiots,” he hissed, slowly running a hand down his face.

While this was going on, Star and Marco just stood panting for a moment, looking around the room with bright smiles on their faces, before they suddenly became aware their arms were still linked and they quickly pulled away with blushing cheek, sharing an awkward chuckle. “S-So,” Marco began with a slight stutter in his voice. He cleared his throat before continuing, “That was-”

But before the boy could finish his thought the door to the bar slammed open as Meat Fork stood proudly in the doorway, shouting, “I found the guards!”

Everyone in the room froze, except Buff Frog who faster than Marco or Star could respond, grabbed onto their arms and dragged them out of sight. Janna spotted this and quickly flew over to join her friends. The smiling Meat Fork was violently shoved aside a second later and Kelly appeared in the doorway with a determined and angered look in her eyes. “Where's Marco?!” she demanded. “Where is he?!”

“Whoa, babe, calm down!” Tad spoke up from behind her and she shot him a glare that could kill on sight.

“Shut it Tad, I'll decide when to calm down, not you!!” she hissed in a warning tone and the boy gulped and backed down. With her ex properly berated, she turned her attention back to the group of startled criminals in front of her. She began walking around the restaurant looking for any signs that her thief had been there, finally leaning against the bar's counter-top as she muttered to herself, “I know Diaz is here. I can feel it. And when I find him, he's gonna get what's coming to him.”

Directly below her and hidden from sight, Star and Marco were trying not to lose their calm, holding their breath and hoping for the best. The blond looked over at her companion, her quizzical eyes asking him what the heck was going on. Marco shrugged but didn't dare say anything out loud to her, especially with the very perceptive Kelly hovering overhead, trying to silently tell her with his eyes that he would explain later.

“Ah hah!” Kelly exclaimed, pounding a fist against the counter, making both teens jump. “I knew it, I knew he was here!” she said, bending down so she could pick up the small strip of red fabric stuck to a loose nail on one of the chairs. “This piece of cloth had to have come from the one and only 'Red Thief of Corona'!”

The boy looked down at his sleeve and seeing the small rip in it, couldn't stop the groan of annoyance as he whispered, “Aww man, my jacket. This was the only one I owned.” He crossed his arms, leaning back against his hiding spot with a sour look on his face.

Star meanwhile, risked a little peek, raising her head enough that she could see over the counter and she quickly took stock of the four guards in the room, her blue eyes jumping between each of them quickly, before lowering back to the floor. “Okay, so let's both jump out of here at the same time and catch them by surprise. If we work together we can take them out,” Star whispered to her friend, punching a fist into her palm for emphasis.

“What? Are you crazy we can't go out there?” Marco hissed, doing his best to keep his voice low so as to not attract unwanted attention.

“Why not?” Star asked with slight annoyance.

“Because there's four of them and two of us.”

“Oh come on, Marco. We can take them,” Star pressed, the confidence on her face doing nothing to dissuade Marco's answer.

“Yeah no, we aren't risking that,” Marco said firmly, folding his arms in front of his chest.

“Well we have to do something before these guys turn us in,” Star pointed out.

“We just sang a musical number with them all. I don' think they're gonna-”

“I know where Marco Diaz is,” Tom suddenly spoke up, interrupting Marco's thoughts and the two teens shared a fearful look.

“Oh right Tom,” Marco whispered worriedly. He had forgotten all about the angry teen, surely he would rat them out.

“Well then why didn't you just say so,” Kelly said in annoyance, moving over to the Monster teen and staring at him stonily. “Where is he? Tell me and you'll be rewarded.”

Tom ignored the hated glares he was receiving from his fellow Monsters as he kept eye contact with the captain, keeping up an emotionless mask. “He's-” the teen started and Star and Marco both clenched their eyes shut in fear. This was it. “-hiding in one of those barrels,” the teen finally replied, pointing off behind him, where a pile of barrels lay.

Star and Marco held back their gasps, but shared a surprised look. Had Tom just willingly saved them?

“What no he's not,” Ludo began, with an infuriated tone. “He's-” But he was quickly cut off as one of the Monster's slapped a claw over his mouth to silence him, only muffled, angry yells could be slightly heard after that from the small bird Monster.

Kelly wasted no time as she charged over to the barrels, drew a sword and began chopping them open, each time with a loud yell which then turned into a disappointed and irritated groan, before moving on to the next one. The Monsters and three guards just watched her as she continued on like this for a while. Finally, Kelly turned to her stunned guards and yelled, “Well, why are you three just standing there, help me!” The three, Tad, Oscar, and Justin, rushed over and began trying to help her open up the barrels as well, though with less vigor and enthusiasm as their leader.

Tom looked over to Buff Frog and gave a slight nod of his head, signaling him to get the two out of there while the guards were distracted. The amphibian nodded back, his eyes showing his thanks for protecting the two and Tom just glared in response, tipping his head sharply toward the bar his impatience beginning to show through.

Buff Frog obeyed, dropping down to his knee as he leaned over the two, who stared up at him with confusion, and whispered, “Follow me.”

The two nodded and obeyed, crawling forward as the frog Monster tried to subtly walk over to a couple of switches that seemingly allowed the many racks of alcoholic beverages around them to be poured. He quickly pushed one of them down and a trap down slowly fell away, revealing a hidden passage. Star and Marco looked inside the dark tunnel with wide-eyes, until Star felt a hand on her shoulder and she looked over to see Buff Frog smiling down at her, “Go and live dream, both of you.”

“Thanks, Buff Frog, we owe you one,” Marco said, giving him a bright smile, before sliding inside.

“Thank you so much,” Star whispered, her cheer and brightness still ringing in her tone as she gave him a quick hug. The frog smiled giving her the gentlest squeeze back, before helping her slide down into the tunnel herself. He pushed the last bit of hair inside with her, than sealed the door back. He stood up and looked back over to the rest of the bar.

Kelly now stood in front of Tom, her face an inch from his, her fiery eyes digging deep into his as she hissed, “What are you trying to pull? There was nothing in there!”

“Oh really, my bad, must have been mistaken,” Tom said with a shrug, though he couldn't quite keep the smirk off his lips.

“Don't test me, demon,” Kelly shouted, her voice low and warning. “I know he's here somewhere and if you get in the way, I will have you and everyone else here thrown in the deepest dungeon I can find!”

Tom's eyes narrowed at the threat, barely glowing red, as he growled out, “Fine you know what if you want Marco so bad then you can just-”

But Tom never got to finish his angry retort as Lobster Claws suddenly shouted out from the crowd, “I can't take it anymore!” He pushed his way through the crowd, holding his claws together in front of the confused captain, as if awaiting handcuffs. His voice was begging and sorrowful as he exclaimed teary-eyed, “Just arrest me, I'm the one you want!”

“Uhh, who are you?” Kelly asked with a raised eyebrow, Tom giving him an incredulous look beside her.

“I'm.... Marco Diaz,” the lobster declared dramatically.

There was a short pause as Kelly just gave the Monster a blank stare, clearly not buying his story. Finally she just scoffed and began storming toward the exit grumbling, “C'mon guys, we're leaving,” The three hurriedly obeyed their leader's commands, rushing to her side. “This was a waste of my valuable time.”

Tom, Buff Frog and the other Monster all shared elated smiles behind the guards back, looking quite pleased with their victory over successfully helping their new friends elude capture. But then out of nowhere, the doors to the room burst open, a large horse standing proudly and heroically in the doorway, her pink mane blowing in the breeze behind her. “What's with the dumb horse?” one of the Monsters whispered and Pony shot them a glare that looked as if she were trying to mentally set them on fire, which she was.

“What, Pony?” Kelly said, looking at her horse with skepticism. “How are you here? I kinda thought you died or ran off with that thief or whatever.”

Pony gave a sour look at the mention of the stupid turd who had humiliated her and gave a little neigh and shake of her head. Uh uh, I wasn't sticking with that loser for longer than necessary. And now I'm tracking him down so that I can get back at that turd for what he did to me.

Kelly, not understanding what she was saying, crossed her arms and said, “Okay well however you got back, at least I have something to ride on now.”

“Hey, maybe she knows where Marco went?” Oscar suggested and the other two knights nodded in agreement.

“Yeah that sounds good,” Justin said enthusiastically.

“Good thinking, bro,” Tad added, patting him once on the back.

Kelly just massaged her aching head with her fingertips. She couldn't believe she had to put up with these morons. “Ugh, that's ridiculous,” she snapped at them. “She's just a horse, what do you think she could possibly do to-”

Suddenly a neigh brought their attention to Pony who was now behind the bar, pointing at the several levels with her hoof, a satisfied and cocky smirk on her snout. Kelly walked over there, pushing Buff Frog (who was trying to desperately convince her otherwise of going over there) aside and examined the three levers closely. Pony who grew quickly impatient, quickly pushed one of the levers, one with a ducky shape on the top of it and a secret passage way opened up before them. “Ah ha, a hidden tunnel of course,” Kelly said eagerly. But seeing the smirk from her horse she quickly rolled her eyes and said, “Beginners luck.”

The two raced inside, Kelly shouting to the others, already echoed by the tunnels, “Come on, guys! What are you waiting for?!”

Tad, Oscar, and Justin were quick to follow after that, shouting after her in a flustered mess, “Y-Yes ma'am! Sorry ma'am!”

The moment they were all gone, the Monsters all just stared at the passage in a mixture of shock, guilt, and confusion. Finally Lobster Claws looked around at his fellow Monsters and asked, “So uh, do we chase after them or-”

“No,” Tom said firmly, but shook his head sorrowfully. “We did what we could. But if we go after them now, we'll only just end up getting ourselves arrested. They're on their own now.” The Monsters still seemed depressed at this fact, until Tom added, “They can handle themselves though, I'm sure they'll be fine.”  

Buff Frog looked at the entrance with longing, wanting to go after to try and help them, but Tom was right, they seemed liked they could handle themselves and at the very least they looked like they could protect one another well enough. He couldn't risk getting in too deep, he did still have his own kids to provide for.

“So what do we do now?” someone asked, as the uncomfortable tension began to ease up some.

“How about... another song?!” Lobster Claws suggested brightly and Tom just face-palmed as the familiar accordion started up again and the next musical number began, much to the flame-headed teen's dismay.

…

Star and Marco walked silently side by side down the dark passage, the boy carrying a lit torch as they traveled the dusty trail. It was clear it hadn't been used in years as cobwebs and grim was found everywhere, but neither were too concerned about that, their thoughts on the previous events that had taken place in the bar. Star seemed excited like usual, but Marco wasn't sure what to say now that they were alone again, intensely aware of Star's presence beside him at all times.

Out of the corner of his eye Marco noticed a skeleton pinned to the wall by a large sword and he felt a slight shudder go up his spine. Well that isn't foreboding at all. He decided to pull his attention away from the sight before his thoughts could get the best of him and instead turned to Star, whose crystal blue eyes were twinkling in the dim light. He smiled, finding her face precious and pretty, but quickly coughed to cover his suddenly flushed cheeks. This drew her attention onto him and to avoid any sort of awkward silence said the first thing that came to his mind, “So, uh, guess that Tom guy wasn't all bad after all.”

Star nodded. “Yeah, he's alright. They all were,” she said brightly. “I'm glad we got to meet them.”

“They were definitely full of surprises,” Marco agreed. He cleared his throat once before adding, “And uh, so were you.”

Star gave him a startled look, before it widened into a wide smile, her eyes full of so much joy that Marco felt his heart skip a beat. “Really? You think so?”

Marco nodded quickly. “Yeah, I mean, when those guys were ready to attack us, you stuck up for me and you didn't back down. It was pretty incredible, actually.”

Star's face blushed but she kept her focus on Marco as she said thoughtfully, “Yeah, I guess it was.”

Marco was now nervously rubbing the back of his neck. “Uh, I guess what I'm trying to say is, I'm not really used to people sticking up for me, so... thanks.”

Star made a curious face, before finally saying, “Your welcome, that's just what friends do for each other.”

Marco turned to her with surprise. “F-Friends,” he stuttered.

“Yeah, we are friends, right?” she asked expectantly and Marco smiled and nodded.

“Of course. I just... didn't realize we were,” he said softly and Star could now see his eyes twinkling with joy.

Star paused for a moment, not sure if she should ask him one of the many burning questions she had had since they met, but she decided one wouldn't hurt so she asked simply, “So Marco, where are you from?”

“Oh uh, I don't really talk about my past,” Marco said quickly, the nervousness immediately back in his eyes.

“Oh,” Star replied, unable to keep the disappointment out of her voice and he gave her guilty frown. “Well that's okay,” she said quickly, not wanting to make him feel bad for his decision. After all, there were plenty of parts about her own past she didn't feel like discussing. “You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to.”

Marco opened his mouth to respond, when there was a loud noise behind them. The two recognized it as a distant, echoed yell and the two swerved to see torchlight following along behind them... and getting closer. Star gasped, her eyes widening some in fear. Oh no, they had found them.

She felt a hand grip her arm as Marco shouted, “Run!” The two took off down the tunnel, Star praying her hair didn't get caught on anything and jeopardize their escape. They could now more clearly hear the angry shouts of their pursuers and this only pushed Star to run faster, her legs beginning to burn as she pushed them to their max.

Finally, Star saw a light up ahead and let out a relieved sigh. “Oh Marco, we're almost home free.” With one final push to her stubborn legs she was able to make it out of the dark tunnels and into the blinding sunshine. She was about to let out a victorious laugh, when she heard Marco yell, “Wait Star!” and her chest rammed into something soft but firm, bringing the blond to an immediate stop. She looked down to see Marco's arm in front of her, stopping her from running off the cliff they had reached, Star feeling a bit dizzy as she looked with horror at the long drop below. “Sorry,” Marco sheepishly apologized. “I just didn't want you to-”

“No, no, you did the right thing,” Star told him quickly. The two took a quick moment to survey the scene, they were at some sort of dam, a large wheel turning beside them, pumping fresh water into a series of wooden shafts that carried the water safely through the large canyon.

“So how do we get across?” Star asked and Marco just cringed openly. “I uhhh-”

Suddenly the two heard loud footsteps behind them and they both turned to see the guards had caught up with them. Star wanted to take a step back, but considering they were on the edge of the cliff as is, she settled for holding up her frying pan in a battle stance, growling low under her breath in warning.  

Marco grabbed the girl's arm and told her in a squeaky, nervous tone, “Star this is not the time to go leaping into danger.”

Star gasped, her eyes lighting up as she exclaimed, “That's it!” Before Marco could question whatever idea had just entered her head, she quickly shoved her frying pan right in his direction, shouting, “Here hold this!” She didn't even realize she had just slammed the heavy metal right into his stomach, causing him to temporarily lose his breath and release a pained, “Oof!”

The blond swerved on her heels and, grabbing a length of her hair, threw it over toward a hanging wooden beam a short distance away. Her hair wrapped easily around it, creating a make-shift rope for her to swing on. She smiled and gave one tug to make sure her hair was secure before leaping off the side of the cliff with a loud yell. “Whooohoooo!”

Marco watched her sail across the short distance before landing easily on a ledge nearby. His mouth hung open in shock until he heard the sound of ringing metal and turned to see Kelly and her three guard companions had drawn their swords, moving menacingly closer to their enemy. “Your not getting away this time, Diaz,” Kelly hissed.

“Umm, I know you're probably mad about what happened earlier but I've kinda got my hands full at the moment, so any chance you would accept a formal apology and let me go?” Marco tried weakly and the captain's eyes seemed to narrow even more at that.

“The only thing I'll accept from you is your surrender or your death, your choice,” Kelly spat aggressively.

Marco just let out a deep sigh. “I figured you'd say that,” he said numbly, before raising up the only weapon he had at his arsenal, Star's frying pan. Kelly charged him with a loud scream and he easily deflected her blade, sending her stumbling off to the side of him, buying him a few seconds without having to worry about her impaling him.

Next came Oscar, who's sloppy form was easily overpowered by Marco's more experienced technique, blocking the weak swing before smacking the sword completely out of his hand and sending it tumbling down the cliff. “Hey no fair, man!” Oscar whined, before he was hit full force by the rusted metal pan, knocking him completely out cold.

Tad, desperate to both avenge his comrade and impress his ex, swung his sword down with all his might, but the red-hooded thief just stepped to the side before smacking him with the frying pan, sending the poor guard flying back.

Justin almost caught Marco off guard, attacking while he was distracted with Tad and his furious lunge would have gone unnoticed if he hadn't stupidly yelled, “Take this!” as he did so. Marco quickly swerved around, blocking the swing, before countering a few more attempted strikes, Justin was definitely more skilled than the others, but the frying pan was just too big an obstacle for him to get around and eventually he too was incapacitated by an unexpected smack to the face from the notorious Red Thief.  

Marco looked down at the three unconscious bodies laying at his feet. He had somehow managed to defeat all three of the “elite” guards in the span of only a few seconds. “Huh that went surprisingly better than I expected,” he muttered to himself.

“Whoo, you go Marco! Rock that frying pan!” came Star's encouraging yell from the neighboring cliff.

Kelly, seeing all three of her guards defeated, growled in anger and shouted, “Okay, that's it, I'm taking you down!”

“Oh yeah,” Marco taunted, feeling more confident since it looked like he was actually going to win this fight. “You and what army?”

“Marco look out!” came a warning yell from Star and Marco saw a sword heading right for him out of the corner of his eye. He screamed and raised his frying pan to block, just barely managing to stop the blade from impaling itself in his eye, but it caused him to stumble back and nearly fall off the cliff he was now once more at the edge of. He heard Star scream his name again but managed to regain his balance, so that he thankfully didn't fall to his death.

He looked over to see who his new opponent was only for his mouth to drop open at the sight of that stupid horse from before now holding a sword in its teeth and aiming it right at him. “Whhhaattt the-” Marco began in pure confusion and shock until he was cut off as he was forced to dodge out of the way of the mad horse's furious and incredibly fast lunge.

“That'ta girl!” Kelly yelled encouragingly to her pony. “We got him now!” She quickly joined in on the effort and Marco found his hands full trying to fight off two surprisingly skilled opponents. Meanwhile, Star was yelling encouraging and helpful things to her friend, who was beginning to sweat and pant at the effort it was taking just to keep from being impaled. “Yeah, Marco you got this! Oh look  out, the horse if trying to sneak up behind you! Oh if you block the angry girl's swing you should be able to- Oh no, not like that!” She cringed seeing Marco getting thrown back by a kick from the girl, luckily not in the direction of the cliff. “Okay good effort but maybe if you-” She cut herself off again, as Marco blocked a swing from the horse, making him lose his balance at the effort, tripping and rolling across the dirt before jumping back up to his feet again.

“Yeah, this isn't going so well,” Star said softly to herself. She looked over to her bat companion and said in a confident voice, “Come on, Jan. Marco needs our help.”

The bat nodded before leaving her shoulder and flying across the massive gap over to where Marco was beginning to be overpowered by the relentless duo of Kelly and Pony. Janna quickly began flying around Kelly's head, pulling at strands of her hair to try and keep her attention on her and the girl guard was quick to fall for this trap. “Hey! Knock it off!” she began waving her arm and sword at the bat that continued to annoy her by flying around her head over and over again, obscuring her view. “Get away from me you pest!” Kelly screamed in pure frustration and Janna just smirked relentlessly. If only she had remembered her matches, then she really could have created a diversion, but guess this was good enough for now.

Marco, meanwhile, was still trying to fight off Pony Head, who never once let off her relentless onslaught. “What the heck is even happening!” Marco screamed in pure panic and bewilderment as he matched blow after blow from the crazy horse.

“Your doing great, Marco!” Star yelled encouragingly to her friend, while trying to loop her hair securely around a sharp rocking sticking out from the ledge.

“I'm fighting a horse!” was all he screamed in reply. Finally, Pony managed to take advantage of Marco's disarray and knock the frying pan out of his hand, the two watching as its tumble to the ground below, before the teen looked back over at the horse and said, “Wow, fun stuff. But I'll just be going now.”

Before he could even make a move away from the crazed horse, Pony had the knife to Marco's throat and he gulped loudly, trying to halt his breathing out of fear of accidentally slicing his neck open. Star gasped seeing the position of her friend and yelled, “Marco!” Taking the end of her hair she threw it across the gap, managing to reach all the way across, where her hair looped around his arm, tightening into a firm knot. Before anyone could react Star yanked on her hair with all her might, causing Marco to fall back off the cliff, with a loud girlish scream. Pony just watched the scene flabbergasted, while Kelly, who was finally rid of Janna as she flapped away after properly distracting the guard, just whined in frustration and crossed her arms childishly in front of her chest, “What, no?! Come on that's not even fair! I wanted to throw him off the cliff!”

Marco felt his heart leap into his throat as the ground rushed toward him, or he rushed toward the ground, he was too panicked right now to tell the difference. His life flashed before his eyes, until he heard a voice from above yell, “Hang on, Marco! I got you!” He felt the hair around his arm go taunt and suddenly instead of plummeting to his death he was now soaring through the air across the large canyon and his scream of terror turned into a triumphant yell of joy. “Whooo, oh man this is great! I've never felt so alive!”

“Marco look out!” Star screamed, struggling to keep her hair in place as Marco's weight was causing her hair to try and slip off from the rock she had it wrapped around.

“What?!” Marco yelled to the blond, the wind rushing past his ears making it hard for him to hear his friend, so he tried to look over his shoulder to see what she was talking about only for Marco's body to slam directly into a hanging board connected to the wooden shafts jutting through the canyon. He moaned in pure agony and pain as his aching ribs and stomach took the impact of the collision, feeling like fire in his chest.

“I was trying to warn you, you were about to hit something,” Star sheepishly explained to her friend.

“Yeah, I got that,” Marco coughed out in a strained tone.

Kelly, seeing the rival thief had not fallen to his death and instead was looking like he might escape her capture, she jumped back into action, exclaiming, “Oh no you don't!” The green-haired girl quickly snatched her weapon off the ground and used it to easily slice a large pillar in half, causing it to fall over and create a bridge across to Star's ledge.

“That can't be good,” Star muttered in concern.

“Star!” came Marco's yell from below her and she turned to see him, now standing and recovered, holding the end of her hair. “Quick jump!”

“Okay!” Star screamed without hesitation, taking a few steps back before doing a running leap off the ledge. Kelly rushed across the board hoping to catch her target's accomplice, diving for her but she missed by mere inches, hitting the ground hard and watching in defeat as the blond came to a smooth landing on the ground below, Marco sliding down the water pipes all the way to the bottom and landing on his butt at the girl's feet. She growled and stood, punching the nearest board in her anger, causing it to snap in half and a rush of water and a loud groan from the dam behind her alerted her to her mistake too late. She slowly turned around to see the cracks forming all over the large dam as without its support beams in place it began to break apart.

“Aw, dang it!” Kelly groaned, before a rush of water hit her.

Star was just helping Marco up, telling him in a positive tone, “Well that went way better than expected,” before the two heard the loud groaning and ear-splitting shatter behind them and they turned to see the dam break, shattering wood and falling structures raining down around them, a wall of water rapidly ascending toward them. “Run!” Star and Marco screamed as one, running for their lives as a mountain of water followed behind, quickly gaining speed on them, threatening to sweep them away and drown them in its depths. The water in its attempt to completely fill the canyon, crashed into the side of a large rock outcropping, the sure force of hundreds of pounds of water hitting it at once causing the whole thing to tip over and begin falling directly toward the two escaping teens.

Star and Marco never stopped running, keeping their focus on the small cave entrance they could see just ahead, both of them carrying as much of the girl's hair as they could possibly hold. Finally they made one last sprint for the entrance reaching it just as the rock slammed down behind them, sealing off the entrance inside as a huge wave of water crashed against its side.

The two panted in the pitch blackness of the cave, blinking a few times as they waited for their eyes to adjust. “J-Janna,” Star gasped out, still struggling to gain enough air flow from her burning lungs to speak. “Wh-Where is Janna?” she asked feeling panickingly around in the dark, fearful that her pet had been swept away in the water.

“She probably flew away when the dam broke,” Marco said.

“Um, hey, Marco,” Star's nervous voice spoke up and he looked over to her with concern. “Is the water... rising to you?” she asked, biting her lip as she felt the pool of water that had once been at her ankles slowly rising up her legs as the small cave filled with water.

The red-hooded teen now picked up on what the blond was talking about, the water level slowly rising. “That's not good,” Marco muttered in worry, looking around at the tiny little cave they had found themselves trapped in. “We gotta find a way out of here.”

Star nodded and the two (their eyes now fully adjusted to the darkness) began feeling around the small space for any signs of an exit, Marco trying to pry the rocks loose with his bare hands, hoping to pull them away and reveal some sort of hidden entrance. Their search became more and more panicked as cold water continued to inch its way up, Star shivering in the chill as her bare legs felt the full force of her careless choice in clothing. Their breath became fogged and ragged as they fought desperately for a way out, Marco eventually having to give up on his attempts to remove the rock walls that walled them in after he sliced his hand open on a sharp rock and he hissed and clutched at his bleeding palm in pain.

Quickly running out of options as the water level reached her stomach and still rising, Star began trying to slam herself into the wall until her shoulder ached, hoping for some kind of give, some kind or results, just... something. Marco meanwhile, dived underwater, hoping to find a way out in the murky depths that were threatening to drown them. But after a few seconds of searching, he gave up this futile hope, unable to pick up anything in the inky blackness he found himself in. He quickly resurfaced, trying to wipe the water out of his eyes as he said shakily, “I can't see anything down there, I-I think we're stuck.”

Star stared at him for a second or two before sucking in a breath and then diving underwater herself. She was down below the water for only a few seconds before she came up coughing and sputtering. She took a couple of short breaths, before starting to dive underwater again, only this time, Marco stopped her, grabbing her firmly but gently by the shoulders. “Hey, hey, Star,” he said softly, giving her a sad smile. “That's not going to work.”

“S-So what?” Star asked, her voice quivering as fear and defeat began to settle in. “We just stay here and die.”

Marco didn't answer but the look in his eyes told Star everything as her own blue orbs widened in terror, feeling tears beginning to surface. “No, no there has to be a way, Janna is probably looking for us, maybe she can bring help, or- or-”

“Star,” the hooded teen spoke up, the broken, emptiness in his voice, freezing Star to the bone. “That isn't going to work. I'm sorry.”

“No,” the girl muttered, taking a step back until it collided with the wall behind her. “No this can't be the end. I was supposed to see the floating lights. I was supposed to live and do something for once in my life.” The tears were falling freely now as she sobbed openly, unable to hide her grief in what was looking to be her final moments. The water was halfway up her chest now, it wouldn't be long before they ran out of air. “Instead- Instead I'm going to die,” she cried, weeping as tears poured down her cheeks.

“At least Janna got away safe,” Marco said, trying to in some way reassure the girl. He hated seeing her so sad.

Star just sniffed and said, “I'm so sorry Marco, I never should have brought you out here, its because of me your going to die, too.”

Marco leaned back against the wall as well, staring off into nothingness before he finally said, “It's okay. I'm honestly kinda glad.”

Star sniffed, asking, “Hmm?”

Marco smiled sadly. “Well before I met you, I didn't really ever take all that many chances, I always played things safe, even when I'd pull a heist or whatever I always spent weeks planning things out, I could never just... be spontaneous like you.” He rubbed his arm awkwardly, taking a deep breath before admitting, “The truth is I'm actually not all that brave. I kinda just pretend to be. I'm actually pretty cautious and safe.”

Star gave a tiny chuckle, wiping the tears from her eyes. The water was now almost up to their chins. “What made you bring that up?”

Marco shrugged. “Well I figured if I was going to die, someone should know the real me,” he said, his face grim as he mentioned the word 'die'. His cheeks blushed mildly as he added, “And I'm kinda glad it's you.”

Star smiled, giving him a thoughtful look before declaring, “I have magic hair that glows when I sing.”

Marco's body froze up, his eyes widening with uncertainty and shock as he muttered out numbly, “Uhhh, wha?”

Suddenly, an idea entered Star's mind as softly whispered, her voice growing louder with each word until it was an elated shout, “I have... magic hair that glows when I sing!”

Marco still just continued to stare at her like she had three heads until she suddenly sang, “Flower gleam and glow, let your power shine.” But that was as far as she could get before the cave was completely submerged in water, the two taking one last gasp of air before they were pulled under by the relentless tide.

There was a couple of seconds of just pure black nothingness for Marco, the only thought entering his mind in that moment was, This is it. Until he felt a glow burning against his eyelids and in his confusion he opened his eyes, wondering if he was already dead and that this light was there to guide him into the after-life. But instead he found himself looking at Star, her blond hair lit up golden as bright as a miniature sun and one of the most breathtaking and bizarre sights Marco had ever seen. He nearly gasped in shock, but remembering he was underwater and that that would only end up drowning him, he was somehow able to fight the urge.

Marco pushed aside his shock, knowing they had a very short amount of time, before looking around for some sort of exit. He quickly spotted a small hole where water seemed to be seeping through. He shared a look with Star, reading her piercing blue gaze as the two swam over to the pile of rocks, trying to both frantically paw them away and escape this horrible death they were being faced with. Finally after what felt like an eternity, when both of their lungs felt like they were on fire and they that they couldn't hold their breath any long, their bodies begging for oxygen, Marco's hand burst through to the other side, his hand feeling around for a second before finally pulling the last rock free and busting the sealed entrance open as they were both thrown harshly into the river.

The two both surfaced, coughing and sucking in as much air as their abused lungs could take in at once, crawling their way out of the river bank and laying in the grass for a few seconds just panting for breath. “We're alive,” Star breathed happily.

“Your hair glows,” the boy breathed, still in shock by the bizarre event that had led to his life being saved. He was grateful sure, but now that the near death-experience passed, he was also confused and stunned, incapable of comprehending what had just happened to him.

“We made it, Marco!” Star squealed in delight, giving the boy a quick hug. The boy made no movement at all, his eyes just staring blankly off into the distance, his mouth hanging open. Star jumped to her feet, striking a dramatic pose, as she triumphantly declared, “Ha, take that world! Gotta do more than that to kill us, right Marco?”

“She has glowing hair,” Marco was weakly muttering to himself and Star was starting to grow worried about her friend's mental state.

“Uh, Marco you okay?” she asked, leaning down over him, watching as his eyes seemed to stare right through her.

“I fought a horse, we met singing monsters, your hair glows,” the boy said numbly, before exclaiming, “Are there any other mind-blowing revelations someone wants to surprise me with?!”

“Hey, loser, head's up,” came an unknown voice, right before he was hit in the head with a frying pan.

“OW!” Marco screamed, sitting upright and massaging his aching nose. “Who the heck threw that?!” He turned to glare at whoever had the bright idea to chuck something at him while he was clearly out of it, only to stare in shock at a dark-haired, beanie-wearing girl smirking back at him, her brown eyes instantly filling him with recognition. What was that-

Star gasped. “Janna Banana, you got away!” She quickly threw her arms around the girl in a tight hug, giggling with joy and relief and the girl merely hugged her back, while giving Marco a cryptic grin.

“I brought you your frying pan back, your welcome,” the girl said.

“Aww, that was so thoughtful of you,” Star cooed, giving her a grateful look.

“Wha- Bu- How?!” was all Marco managed to stutter out, his brain incapable of forming a single sentence or heck even more than one word without completely shutting down. “Your a human!” he finally managed to exclaim.

“Actually I'm a bat,” the now-human Janna said matter-of-factly. “I can only turn human for like an hour every day.”

“Wait but how-” Marco asked in exasperation.

“I was cursed,” the girl replied with simple shrug.

Marco looked over to Star before asking, “Are you cursed, too?”

“Wellll not really,” the blond hesitantly replied, not looking too sure of her answer herself. “It's more of a... magical gift.”

“Oh he saw your hair glow,” Janna said nonchalantly.

“Yeah, but he doesn't know what it does yet,” Star explained to her friend.

“Hmm, I'm surprised, I didn't think you'd show anyone that.”

“Well, I was kinda outta options and I think we can trust him.”

“If you say so.”

Marco just gaped at the two girls as they talked amongst each other, before finally exclaiming at the top of his lungs, “What is going on?!” His voice cracked on the last word and the two girls just shared a look.

Janna sighed and rolled her eyes. “Oh great, he's totally freaking out. This is why I didn't want him to know.”

Star shot Janna a look before turning to the boy with a sweet, reassuring smile, that (despite the confusion he was feeling) he couldn't help but blush upon seeing it. “Relax, Marco,” she said in a calm voice. “I'll explain everything.”

…

Ludo was fuming as he exited the Snuggly Duckling, needing an escape from the loud, rambunctious music that had yet to cease since the two teens had left. At the thought of the two troublemakers he growled under his breath. He couldn't believe everyone had fallen for their whole innocent act, they were clearly just trying to save their own skin. He had been ready to turn them in and collect the reward but noooo the others just had to cover for them and even help them escape. He had hoped that at the very least Tom would have been on his side but then the stupid flaming teen had to go and show some character growth. Why couldn't he just realize his roll and stay the villain like him!? But then that's what happened when you worked around a bunch of morons, your genius ideas fell on deaf ears and you ended up out voted by a bunch of idiots.

He leaned against the door frame, his arms crossed in front of his chest, as he muttered through clenched teeth, “They just had to let those stupid kids get away. I could make a fortune off of that Diaz kid. If I ever see them again, I'll-”

“Oooorrr,” a voice suddenly spoke up, snapping Ludo out of his thoughts and he jolted upright, looking up at the woman hovering over him. Her teal hair had streaks of gray and her smooth skin showed the beginning signs of wrinkles starting to form, but she seemed to hold herself with an air of confidence and power. She had a pleasant smile, but her eyes seemed to hide some sort of secret behind them. Upon closer inspection, Ludo wasn't sure what to think of this woman. “You could go find them yourself, if you're so desperate for money.”

“And what's it to you what I do?” Ludo asked, raising a distrustful eyebrow toward the human.

The woman shrugged, her expression never changing, her eyes seemingly digging into his skin. “Well it just so happens I'm after them as well and I thought I could use a partner to help me out,” she said smoothly, calmly, but her voice didn't leave any room for argument.

“Why should I help you?” Ludo asked, still skeptical of the woman.

She didn't waver for a second as she replied, “Because I know more about them than you do. In fact, I know where they are headed, I know a secret about one of them you don't, and-”

She reached into the satchel she now had clinging to her waste, pulling out the crown. “If you help me, I'll give you this, as a gift of my appreciation.”

Ludo's eyes shined with greed as he stared at the golden crown of his desires, unable to speak or look away from the object. But he finally, shook his head free from the distraction, saying, “Yeah well I don't trust humans, so I'm not helping you.”

The woman let out a long sigh, before saying, “Fine.” Then to Ludo's surprise she added, “Here, I have no need for this,” before tossing the crown his way, the kappa Monster's claws fumbling to grab it out of the air, before holding it tightly in his claws, practically drooling on the object.

He laughed manically, quickly hiding it from her view as he taunted, “Ha, stupid human! That was a huge mistake!” He started to walk away, back into the Snuggly Duckling to find a good place to hide it, when the woman said, “Oh well, I'll just be on my way then, if you did agree to help me I was going to give you something worth at least three of those crowns but I can see that doesn't interest you.”

Ludo paused, before slowly turning back around to face the woman, her back to him now. “Wait, what are you talking about?”

Eclipsa smiled to herself, knowing she had just won the little Monster over. Her plan had worked perfectly, the moment she had gotten to the inn and overheard through the thin wood her daughter proclaiming her love for the outside world and her desire to never go back, she had been scheming up a new plan to reclaim what was hers. And the first step was recruiting a Monster to help her. And then low and behold but she found one that despised her daughter's traveling companion and was willing to do practically anything if it meant a big paycheck. Not to mention he was incredibly gullible.

She turned back around, making sure to put on her warm smile once more, saying politely down to the little Monster, “Well, to put it simply that girl Marco Diaz is traveling with has healing powers.”

Ludo didn't look convinced, raising another skeptical eyebrow, before scoffing to himself, “Do you really expect me to believe that?”

“Well how else do you explain the most wanted thief in the kingdom keeping some random girl with him. He's keeping her powers all to himself.”

“That rat,” Ludo growled, buying into her lie much easier than Eclipsa had expected. “Of course he would horde all the good treasure for himself, what a selfish little brat!”

Look who's talking, Eclipsa thought to herself, but didn't dare say it out loud.

“Okay fine, you got yourself a deal,” Ludo proclaimed, throwing his hand out for her to take.

“Pleasure doing business with you, I'm sure,” Eclipsa said, bending down to shake his hand. “You can call me Lady Eclispa.”

“Ludo Avarius,” the Monster replied.

Eclipsa smiled brightly down at him, while carefully reaching her free hand behind her to make sure her knife was secure and out of sight. Then to help seal her trap, she said in the sweetest tone she could, “I think this is the start of a beautiful partnership.”

Ludo's sappy smile was enough to tell her that the gullible Monster was completely in her clutches. Now for phase two...

[thehappiestandunluckiest]

Being Radioactive

If the first thing that comes to your mind when you think of radioactive is the imagine dragons song, same.

So, January 10th, I traveled up to Lisbon. A scared, young gazelle, about to absorb a radioactive substance that would hopefully kill the powerful assassin that had taken over her 20 year old body. Something that I never had felt before but felt as soon as I was told that I had cancer was.... There are multiple cells in my body right now just eating away at my temple, and I have no power over it, and at any moment one could just go on a little trip through my body and stop at a vital organ and make itself at home and have little babies and over run my body and kill me. Now, I know that sounds so dramatic, but that’s how it feels, or at least that’s how I felt. I felt helpless, like a ticking time bomb, cancer is a bitch but feeling so helpless and even worse, feeling like a foreigner in your own body was so odd. I felt displaced like I was in my body but also being kicked out of it. I know I didn't have it anywhere near as bad as others have, I was lucky, I am lucky, that’s what I kept telling myself. But I couldn’t ignore feeling like I had an army of little Hitlers in my body, over throwing my own cells, altering my hormones, chewing through me. 

I traveled up to Lisbon, smile on my face and jokes always on the tip of my tongue, but that’s how I react to stress, that why my bosses always love me, I thrive in chaos, or at least I trick everyone else into thinking I do. I was anxious but relieved to be getting this out of the way. If all worked out, I would be free of these pests that contaminate relentlessly. But i would also be having scans to see if it had spread, and that freaked me out, I wanted to be oblivious and stay in denial but I know that’s not the way to go.

So we travel up to Lisbon, and have two days as an out-patient where I spent a couple of hours each day having tests run and injections given in the oncology dept. It was fun having THE nurse from hell. I’m joking, but she sure was a character (and we all know what that means). Now I am not mean, but you will soon understand why I didn’t gel to this woman. So she grabs me and drags me to a room, “oh the nurse has vanished, we will just have to start ourselves” this set off alarms in my head - she seemed super hostile and her stabbing me with needles was not what I wanted. 

She flings a plastic cup at me, “you have to pee in this”, she throws me into a bathroom, with another girl trying to pee into a cup. She goes “HA! oops” and closes the door. NOW LISTEN HERE! Have you ever had to pee into one of those cups? It’s a very very vulnerable position to be in. Hunched over, begging your bladder to open the flood gates, hand in the toilet bowl covered in your own piss. I felt so sorry for her. So I pee into this cup, clean up and go back to the nurses office. The older nurse is back and I let out the breath I had been holding in out of anxiety. Now, I just want to mention that all these stories are super real and I for real can’t make this sh#t up!“ God! Those shoes need to go into the bin! They’re so dirty.” She says as she’s leaning on the door frame. 

This woman! I’m sat in the chair anxious awaiting the medicine that will help stop me from dying and she’s talking about my slightly dirty sneakers....So, the older nurse asks me where I’m from, she worked in London for a few years so we get into some small talk whilst she takes my blood, she’s distracting me from my ridiculous phobia. She asks me what I’m studying. “Oh - no. I actually work in a hotel, I’m a waitress.” “WHAT?! You don’t have a degree? How far is that going to get you, you can’t go far in life without one?” Now at this point I wanted to puke on the floor, not because I felt sick but so she would have to clean up my bile from the ground - that’s her job, how amazing is your f#cking degree now love? But I am a good christian girl so I simply say “well, I didn’t want to go to university. I got a good job straight out of school in a company that I can evolve in and have been evolving in”. The older nurse says she agrees that I am doing a good job going after what I want and not what is expected of me and that its the fact that you love what you do that counts. “Ok Emma that’s everything for today, see you tomorrow, same time!”

Now lets get to the real radioactive part. 

Let’s set the mood. I haven’t eaten anything, not that I’d want to. Yesterdays injections have a side effect of headaches, not too bad. I am pale, make upless and wearing xxl sweat pants and an xl sweater - I’m more sweatpants than human but it made me feel all cozy. I have a suitcase filled with art supplies, my laptop, books and toiletries - the essentials you might say. Feeling sorry for me yet? I actually wasn’t too worried only one side effect - the slow death of suffocation if your esophagus swells up from the radiation burning your salivary glands. No biggie. (I would like to inform you all that even though this is all true - its sarcasm just for anyone who’s worried about me).

The hospital is huge, and very luxurious. Everyone is walking around with gucci bags and beautiful tans and I’m looking like hell but that’s ok I’m beyond caring. 

I’m escorted to my room, it’s beautiful. Huge windows, lots of space, overlooking some of the city and the pediatrics block. I’m given the big speech explaining everything, let me give it to you in precis form as my Dad would say. I have to flush the toilet 4 times when i poop, and twice when i pee. The toilet has chambers so you have to aim said poop and pee into these chambers (it was like yoga trying to get into positions to aim but I don’t want to describe my bowel movements too much we aren’t that close yet - at least buy me coffee first!)

So the room is lovely only noticable difference is the space odessy esque toilet, and the huge lead panel that is placed infront of the door. They repeat that all of this is not for my own safety but for everyone elses, I harness all the power - is this the part where I become a super villan? 

The fancy director of nuclear science came to my room in her anti radiation suit (yes - just like in HBO Chernobyl) and I injected the little pill through the rather odd tube. It was in a big lead box and had all the hazard signs on it and and made a  *shhhhhhhh* sound when the box opened, what a fancy-dancy little pill.

Surprisingly I did not glow in the dark or have magnetic abilities - disappointing to say the least. 

My two day stay was pretty uneventful, the food was actually quite good. I drank 10l of water and 2l of pure lemon juice - I was on the toilet ever 30 minutes and spent a good 7 minutes each time for the flushing routine. This lemon juice was to keep my salivary glands working which would stop my throat from swelling and thus stop me from maybe chocking myself to a long, endless sleep. I ended up with ulcers in my mouth from the lemon juice, BUT my skin got really clear and I had never felt so hydrated in all my life. I was left alone and my only comunication with my nurses was through the telecom. When my food was left for me I had to stand in the corner next by the window and wait until they had left my food behind the big lead panel before I could move again. It was kinda crazy because they looked at me like I was a monster in a cage. You know when you were a kid and turned the lights off in the hall and ran to your bed out of fear of the dark? That’s how they looked at me - it was oddly humourous and simultaneously eery and isolating (but I am writing this entry during the COVID19 pandemic and have been isolated in my house for 2 months now so that was nothing looking back on it).

All fluids that came out of me were very radioactive so I had to shower often. I was scared of choking in my sleep so I set alarms every two hours (I’m just very cautious ok!). On my last day I needed to have an MRI and blood tests done and so myself and another young girl, same age as me and same situation as me, were escorted to the tests area. We wadled through the whole hospital, the nurse would ask everyone to stay away from us and people would scatter away from us like we were radioactive - wait a minute.....

I had my scan, and had the geirger meter see how radioactuve I still was. Honestky this was what I was scared of. Not the actual treatment itself but what the results would be. I think this is a normal fear. It would change everything. Had it spread? Had it evolved into an even more malicious beast? So many thoughts running through my head. We went back to our rooms and awaited these dreaded results. 

My dad had driven up to Lisbon to pick me up, he loves the drive. He calls and says that he is going to wait for me to be ‘set free’ until he goes into the hospital (all of us have spent too much time in hospital to the point that its a normal place to spend our time so we try and avoid it like the plague). 

The doctor comes into my room and stands right next to me. Crazy human contact wow it’s so crazy how powerful having someone even just stood close to you has an effect on you.

My results are very positive - thank God. I smile and thank the doctor, I really am so happy. This enourmously heavy weight has been taken off of my shoulders, my eyebrows unforrowed and my shoulders eased up, my jaw declenched, my stomach stopped its sumersaults and I could breathe again.

The nurse calls me to say I need someone to come and get me for me to be discharged. I try and call my dad, straight to voicemail. I message no answer. I call my mum no answer. I call my brother, finally an answer after 4 attempts but he’s useless to me 2 hours away. shit. I am finally free and I can’t get out of the damn place! After an hour of me trying to call him and me freaking out because I don’t want to be stuck here any longer. I hear a voice through the door. “I am looking for my daughter”, ok lets get out of here. 

I cant hug anyone or stay too close, I am tired but dying for some icecream. I finally am free, free of this monster. I wont be 100% out of the woods for a while yet but for now I am good. I stay in isolation at home for a week before I am allowed back out in public. The day I finally go out in public is to the shopping centre. I set off the alarms. The security alarms were going off as I walked past them. I walked through the shopping mall lauging like a lunatic, I really was radiocative after all.  This was it- my super power. 

I still worry from time to time, I get little scares and I obsessivly check for lumps and bumps, but I can rest a little easier now. I hope noone has to go through what I went through, or anything of the sort. But I would like to say that it wasnt all that bad, the treatment ran so smoothly that I thought that they had given me a dud pill. The operations before the treatment were also very smooth sailing. The whole thing went by easily (as easily as cutting your throat open can go), Why am I saying this? Because before I went for treatment I wanted to see how others reacted just so that I knew what to expect and so that i could prepare. Online everything was negative, blogs said that it was the worst experience. Not that it’s a great experience either but I think it’s important to not scare people about these things. Being sick sucks. It truly does, but being cured, or trying to get better is a true blessing, and us lucky lucky individuals who have access to health care (and even luckier if its free health care) and those of us who can go through these operations and come out on the other side should be so so grateful. I’m grateful for my operations, my access to clean hospitals, the best medical professionals, the kind auxilary staff that smiled at me when I was scared, the recepcionists that winked at me and wished me well. My parents that drove me accross the country to be treated by the best. My job for giving me health insurance that helped pay for some of the costs.

What I’m trying to say is that we sometimes over think the bad, and honestly I could easily sit here and write about a WHOLE LOAD of bad that has happened to me, but it wont changed anything or make it better, but what does is looking back and saying wow- I am so lucky. I had people send me best wishes, my collegues at work looked after me when I was ill, my family cared for me when I wasn’t able to do so on my own. Be grateful, add sunshine to a rainy day and see the rainbows appear. 

love,

Em x

[feywildatheart]

Nenîth,

I hardly know where to start in telling you what happened on Mir, my thoughts are in such a tumble. I suppose I’ll start with reassurance and tell you that we have not been thrown in a jail cell. We are back on the Seles Emsel, and on our way back to Nosirion-1, and the children will soon be reunited with Loraine — or, introduced, I suppose. But I’m sure you’ll want to know more than just the outcome.

We came out of the teleportation circle and made for the Crow first. Elyn had a notion to try to hint at the mistreatment of the children, to lay the groundwork for gaining the sympathy of the people of Mir, should it come to that. Kian seemed troubled by the direction of the conversation at first, and then more troubled once he realized what Elyn was implying. We left him behind with that and went next to see Hiuda at the Silver Tree, since it had occurred to Elyn that bringing Hallbjörn’s belongings and news of his fate to her might be a fine excuse for our presence here on Mir, should anyone grow suspicious.

With that done, we went to Glaheath Arcana next, with the excuse of wanting to thank the owners for the aid my lucky ring had been to us. Raria was there working again and she seemed tired, and when I asked if the owners weren’t around so that I might thankthem personally, but she said they were rarely around, and mostly only stopped by in the mornings and evenings, and otherwise left her to handle the shop on her own. She seemed even wearier at the mention of it, and I felt sympathy for her (and, I suppose, a bit of guilt at what we meant to do to her employer) and took a moment to run off and get her some coffee. Elyn protested that it was hardly going to make up for our intent to leave her unemployed, if all went well, but I can’t see how it’s ever the wrong choice, to show someone a bit of kindness. Raria seemed grateful in any case, and we continued on into the residential areas of Mir, following the map that Loraine had given us to the home of the Yeruses.

We spent some time debating our best plan of attack, though I think that implies a level of care and sophistication to our plan that I don’t think we can rightly claim. Space is limited on a space station, and all the homes standing next to each other, with little opportunity to sneak around to the back and come inside where we might not be noticed. Pika was able to sneak a glance through the front door, while we all stood about consulting Loraine’s map and making like tourists who had lost our bearings, and was able to see that there were three guards inside the home, standing watch.

Pika wanted to sneak inside and try to take them by surprise, but it’s not as though we were moving through a dense undergrowth, and able to circle around our target and approach from behind. With the only entryway the front door, and all three facing it and on alert, I hardly think we could have snuck inside, no matter how lightfooted we were.

Ultimately, Pika and Elyn both used their magic to make a sound like an explosion coming from upstairs, in the hopes of alarming the guards about the welfare of the children, and sending at least some of them up to check on them. It didn’t work quite as we’d hoped, though, and one guard came to the door instead, to check on things, and I will admit I swore a bit, and waved the others back from the door so that we might have a chance of taking him by surprise from either side, once he stepped through.

That, at least, worked well enough. I shot him straightaway, and Pika dropped a silence spell over the area to keep him from calling for assistance from the others, and Elyn was able to shove him back inside the house before anyone on the street saw the commotion and raised an alarm, and we all followed after.

The fight was brief enough, though Elyn seemed somewhat at loose ends without the ability to call forth her magic with music, and we left him unconscious on the floor while one of his friends rushed in to assist, and the other activated a communicator and dashed our hopes that they three might be the only resistance we’d face in this endeavor. When we’d dealt with all three, Elyn took up the communicator, and I thought she meant to impersonate one of the guards and try to reassure whoever was on the other end that everything was all right, and so I advised that she at least try to disguise her voice before she did, because we may not have heard the guards speak within the silence spell, but I’m fairly sure none of them sounded like a gnomish girl. She heeded my advice, but instead of reassuring whoever was listening on the other end, she only snarled a warning that we were children’s protective services and we were coming for the kids.

So, after that, there was nothing else for it but to board the lift and try to find the kids. Pika sensed magic from the second floor, so we tried that first, and Elyn helped me figure out how to hold the elevator door so that if there were more guards below us on the first floor, they couldn’t come up behind us and take us by surprise. We made our way cautiously through a series of hallways, one of which proved to be trapped. Elyn was able to disable it, though she took a small dose of the poison in sparing the rest of us from it. It didn’t seem to injure her terribly, but made her somewhat unsteady on her feet, and so I pulled her up with me to ride on Squirt’s back, where I could keep an arm about her waist and make sure she didn’t topple over.

Eventually we reached another turn in the hallway and, peering beyond it, saw a guard stationed in front of a door, who seemed braced and ready for our arrival, no doubt warned by his compatriot downstairs. I shot him, and Squirt ran over to bite at him, and Pika to punch him, and Elyn with her music and magic. And that utter bastard, the first swing he took was at Squirt, and I’m sad to say he was a better swordsman than his compatriots downstairs, and he took Squirt down with one blow. One blow, and my poor little puppy was lying unconscious and bleeding on the floor, when not even the displacer beasts of the Feywild had been able to overcome him. And I— Well. I feel no shame in saying that I lost my head a little, and traded bow for sword, and ran into the fray and swung and swung and swung at him, until he had fallen. And while I’d been careful to leave the others unconscious, him— oh, nenîth, him I killed, and I don’t regret it even now. He’d have killed Squirt, if we’d given him the opportunity, and what kind of a monster does that to a poor sweet dog?

Elyn, Cernunos bless her, healed him just as soon as we didn’t have that man and his sword to contend with, and did what she could to make us look somewhat less like a ragtag gang of brawlers before we passed through the door into the room beyond, lest we greet the children bloody and haggard and lose all chance of convincing them that we were there for their benefit, and that we meant well.

We found the children just inside, busy at their work and the youngest, Loren, humming a song in a language I didn’t know. But Elyn seemed to, and was able to speak with them in their own tongue, which I’m sure helped assuage them, though the brother was wary and guarded, and I can’t say I blame him, after everything he and his sister have been put through. Loren, though, as soon as she saw Squirt wanted nothing to do with anyone but him, and asked so eagerly if she could pet him, and seemed so glad when I told her that he would love that. Never before have I felt such a kinship with someone so immediately. Just for that alone, I’d have wanted to whisk her away so she could give Squirt as many pets and scritches and belly rubs as she wanted. But Elyn coaxed Devon to switch to Common, and once he did and the rest of us started having their own version of the story out of them, oh. Oh. If Victory or Fyllis had had the poor sense to show their faces just then, I’d have wrung both of their necks with my bare hands and not thought twice about it. Little Loren, as soon as we mentioned Loraine and the genetic material she’d donated to bring both of them into the world, asked us if that meant they had a real mom, and I went all hot and cold at once at the knowledge that the mother she had, the mother she should have had, had never even bothered to claim the role. It’s a good thing we had Loraine waiting on them, and wanting them, or I think I’d have scooped that girl up into my arms right there and walked off with her, and claimed her as my own and no doubt spoiled her terribly, just to make sure that she never again had to feel the hunger for love and affection that I’d seen in her then.

In any case, Elyn’s precautions with Loraine, in ensuring that she’d be satisfied with removing the children from the custody of the Yeruses, should they be reluctant to move in with a woman who was a stranger to them, was well-founded, for Devon seemed suspicious of the idea at first. I think hearing that all Loraine wanted, in the end, was to know that they were being taken care of properly, helped to assuage him that they weren’t about to move from one bad situation into another, and in the end they both agreed they’d rather try Loraine than the Mir authorities, and threw about three handfuls of goods into a bag and declared themselves packed, and we all left together.

Loren seemed delighted to be offered the chance to ride on Squirt, though when I offered her the chance to talk to him, with myself as translator, she grew shy and quiet, so I didn’t press the issue. But I cannot wait to see of what she makes of Gwynne, and I’m glad to know she’ll have a puppy around she can love on as much as she likes, even when Squirt and I are elsewhere.

We are none of us skilled tacticians yet, nenîth, though I daresay we’re getting better at it. I’m sure Cylla’s been screaming at your LICD since the first page of this letter, when she realized what I’m about to admit to you both: that I never mentioned tying up the guards we’d knocked out, and that’s because none of us thought of it, which we were abruptly made aware of when we came out of the elevator on the ground floor to discover two of the guards gone and the third awaiting us. Squirt shook Loren off of his back and wedged her into a corner of the elevator car, and shielded her with his own body, because he truly is the very best dog in the whole galaxy, and every other galaxy besides. And I stood in the elevator doorway to try to cover them both, because for all his bravery and Elyn’s healing, Squirt was still half dead on his feet. But the guard was still as wounded and unsteady as the rest of us, and it took us little time to send him back to unconsciousness, and then we made a hasty exit while we were still able to.

We still had some few hours until the Seles Emsel was set to depart, and I didn’t figure that the Yeruses had bothered to make sure that their children were fed well, when they clearly weren’t interested in any of the other aspects of parenting either, so we took them to the Crow, where Kian provided us with a private room and a hot meal, and Pika slipped away while we all took the opportunity to rest and to heal, and returned shortly with proper clothing for the children, and with a stuffed dragon toy for Loren, which is frankly more affection than I’ve seen Pika show anyone who wasn’t a small, furry animal. She spoke so softly and sweetly with the children, too, and I’m glad for it, they deserve softness and kindness after what they’ve been through. But it’s frankly making me wonder if maybe I’ve been wrong all along in assuming that Pika’s tendency towards silence is just her way, and maybe the truth is that she just doesn’t care for the company she’s currently keeping? She did rather get forced into this job with me, as the price Kian extracted in exchange for the information she wanted. Maybe she resents that but is too polite to say so. I truly hope not, but she certainly seemed to have no qualms about holding entire conversations with Loren and Devon.

Anyway. I can dwell on those thoughts later. The hours until the ship departed passed uneventfully enough, and then we were left with several days full of time to kill, until we reached Nosirion-1 once more. Pika procured a fancy scarf that doesn’t seem to go with much of anything I’ve seen her wear yet, but she coaxed the kids into letting her show them how to do some sort of aerial acrobatics with it. It seemed like fun and I almost asked to join, but the kids were having such a good time, and I didn’t want to take any time away from them for my own indulgence. I tracked Pika down later, once she and the kids had exhausted each other, and suggested we practice a fun new trick we got to witness at the Yeruses’ home. One of the guards on the ground level had a hand crossbow, and shot at her, and she snatched the bolt up right out of the air! She seemed very eager when I asked if she wanted to practice the move together, and we’ve spent much of our time on the ship getting good at it. My aim’s still not quite as precise as I would like it to be, considering I am aiming at a friend, but we’ve at least gotten the knack of it now, and Pika’s shell even cracked a bit, and she seemed to have fun plucking my arrows out of the air and tossing them to Squirt, who I think had the time of his life snapping at them mid-air.

Elyn’s spent the time practicing, too, and it seems anytime we go looking for her we can find her with her glove, frowning over a bit of a loop and making adjustments that I can scarcely detect with my own ears, but that have dramatic effects on her magic. I’ve never heard music like what she can make, and the way she can weave music and magic both through the air like a weaver joining warp to weft reminds me of you, Darna. Even when I don’t really understand what she’s doing with it, or the purpose behind the changes she makes to her loops, I like to just sit there and listen to her sometimes, and make like I’m working snarls out of Squirt’s coat, so she doesn’t get self-conscious about having an audience. It’s nice to be in a place that’s filled with music, though. It makes it feel a little more like home, even if the decks of the Seles Emsel are nothing like our little cottage tucked up in the trees.

We’re not too far out from Nosirion-1 now, and once we land I don’t expect we’ll have too much longer to wait before our boat is ready and we leave to go see if we can learn what’s causing the strange tides. So I’ll end this here, and promise to write again as soon as I’m able, because I want to go find Loren before we land, and see if she’s gotten over her shyness enough yet to take me up on the offer to talk to Squirt.

Be well, in the meantime, and I promise to try to do the same.

All my love,

Maliah

[ripplestitchskein]

How to Become a Witch in Ten Easy Lessons - (4/5)-A CS Modern Fantasy AU

Rating: T for Teen

Word Count: Approx 7.5K

Summary:  Emma Swan leads a quiet, solitary life, that is until a tragedy temporarily saddles her with three recently displaced orphans. Three recently displaced orphans who make quick work of discovering one of the reasons for her solitude and threaten to confirm the rumors swirling around town about her, unless she can do something to help them, something that will require the assistance of a mysterious Professor who isn’t quite what he seems either.

Notes:  THIS STORY IS COMPLETE. The next and final chapter will be out in a couple days.

A continuation of a birthday gift that got wildly out of hand for the amazing @phiralovesloki​

@caprelloidea​ gave me some of the happiest moments of my life reading this and flailing over it. It is better because of her.

Read Part One Here!

Read Part Two Here!

Read Part Three Here!

On AO3 Here

_____

It seemed the strategy to make them feel at ease was a constant whirlwind of activity from the moment they set foot in the crumbling remains of what once had once been a thriving kingdom. Threadbare banners hung from crumbling brick, and entire walls had toppled to dust and small bits of stone in the centuries since its downfall.

The tour was brief, with only a few structures in the city square that looked serviceable enough to live in, thatched roofs repaired with brown bits of palm leaves, weathered wood alternated with lashed bits of bamboo and whatever materials could be spared to cobble together some semblance of a working village. The castle itself was more of a common area, a few rooms still in use but most of it a victim of the harsh island climate, and many years of decay.

They were the hot topic of interest among the gathered townspeople, curious and excited eyes gleamed, following them wherever they went. They seemed friendly enough, unarmed and eager. But there was something off in some of their expressions, something greedy and predatory in a few of the faces in the crowd that had Emma pulling the children in closer, shifting into Killian’s space as they awkwardly made their way into the main square.

The people gathered around like vultures, a teeming mass of threadbare clothing and wide over zealous smiles, all of them trying to catch a glimpse of the new arrivals. She looked uneasily at Killian who surveyed the crowd, looking for any overt signs of danger beyond their excess of enthusiasm.

“Maybe it’s just been awhile since they’ve seen new people,” she muttered reading his expression, leaning further towards him.

He grunted disbelievingly and narrowed his eyes at the King, who had leapt atop a stone table at the center of the square and had begun loudly describing their triumph over The Beast to the gathered crowd, his voice as proud and boastful as if he had bested it himself.

“I wonder why that could be?” was Killian’s only reply. She wanted to roll her eyes at his dramatics but she had to admit there was something off about the guy. She couldn’t decide if he was just a man trying to lead his people through a bad situation or someone far more sinister.

The children were thankfully oblivious to the rather odd behavior of the gathered townsfolk and the grownups’ increasing suspicions.  Roland reveled in the attention, a spotlight he probably rarely got to have, lost as he was in crowds of other children in the orphanage. She could remember that feeling all too well. One of many mouths to feed, one of dozens to clothe and educate, neither more important or more worthy than any other. He flashed his dimples and waved a tiny hand at anyone who looked his way, a little showman with a mop of curly brown hair. It broke her heart a little.

Henry and Grace were more reserved, unused to so much focus, and of an age where it was not so desired. They huddled close together to talk in excited hushed whispers, faces flushed and embarrassed but with small secretly pleased smiles at their newfound fame.

Emma didn’t want to take that away from them with fear and suspicion. She shook her head at Killian and mouthed “Take it easy” tilting her head in the direction of the kids. He gave a brief nod to say he understood but his clenched jaw also spoke volumes about how he felt. His dislike of them being basically thrown into a throng of potentially dangerous predators palpable.

“And so we will have a feast! A day of celebration in their honor, to commemorate the day they outwitted the demon that plagues our waters!” Arthur was bellowing, raucous cheers following the pronouncement, a sea of eyes turning in their direction.

“That’s really not necessary-” Emma started to say, but the crowd’s cheers were too loud, and Arthur’s face, looking down at her from his perch on the tabletop did not look like it would welcome any opposition. It was only there for an instant, like the brief flash of curious interest on their trek to the castle, but it unnerved her just the same.

She stepped back at the look, knocking right into Killian, who steadied her with a hand on her hip, looking down at her in concern. He didn’t appear to have seen the exchange, focused instead on keeping a watchful eye on Roland who was cheerfully telling a kneeling, mystified woman that they should have cheeseburgers at the feast.

She looked back at Arthur, all traces of the odd expression gone, smiling jovially now and cheerfully calling for flowers and wine to be brought forth, his face open and honest, seeming to be genuinely excited at the prospect of a celebration for his people. Perhaps she had imagined it? All that talk of dangerous island people and their encounter with the monster had perhaps left her a bit more shaken than she’d like to admit. It had been a long and ridiculously weird day. Perhaps it was just her imagination running away from her.

“Love?” Killian phrased the endearment as a question, concern furrowing his brow and she shook her head.

“Nothing I just thought I saw-” Emma shook her head again as the man lifted a small toddler high in the air, laughing at the child’s excited sequels, carrying him off into the crowd to no doubt continue preparations. “It’s nothing.”

Killian looked unconvinced, but said nothing more, his hand suddenly warm through the thin fabric of her jeans when she realized it was still there. He didn’t seem to notice it, an easy gesture of familiarity. She stepped away, the shiver that went down her back of a different sort altogether this time, a zinging heat and a warm flush. He blinked, the movement drawing attention to his hand, his fingers flexing down by his leg. When she turned back around a moment later his cheeks were slightly redder in the sun.

He didn’t look at her again, busying himself by snagging the over eager Roland by the hood of his sweater with his hook and pulling him back to them. A protective movement, the boy apparently drifting too far away for his liking. She smiled, the heat turning to a warm glow.

“We’ll have to find you something to wear dear,” a woman was saying in her ear, and Emma whirled startled and for some reason embarrassed at being caught staring.

“The children too. We might have something of the Queen’s that will suit you, and I’m sure we can borrow something for the wee ones.”

“I don’t need any clothes,” Emma said, hoping she didn’t sound as snappish as she felt. She awkwardly brushed sand from the thigh of her jeans, wondering absently at the state of her hair soaked in sea water and drying in the sun. She looked down at herself. What she was wearing was fine. She self consciously brushed away another patch of sticking sand.

“Nonsense! This is a special day!” The woman’s tone, though friendly, brokered no argument, and before Emma could protest further she was calling over a man to fetch trunks from the castle.

“I really don’t need-” Emma started to protest again, but the woman had moved to Grace, sizing the girl up and declaring she had just the thing for her.

It seemed the celebration was happening, whether they wanted it or not, the townspeople already moving to begin the preparations, excited at a reason for a holiday of sorts. Emma looked helplessly to Killian, but he was rebuffing the woman’s own attempts to alter his wardrobe for the occasion.

“I guess it couldn’t hurt?” Emma whispered to him, uneasy and unsure. “I mean they look really happy to see us at least.”

Killian frowned but nodded.

“The question is, Swan, why are they so happy to see us?”

Emma looked at the bustling chattering crowd, but couldn’t think of an answer.

______

Before she knew it Emma found herself wearing a borrowed gown, a bit too long for her apparently shorter frame, but gorgeous and no doubt expensive. It smelled of lavender sachets and the musty odor of a long storage, but it was clean and she had to admit, lovely. A muted magenta velvet edged in gold with dramatically draped sleeves and a nipped in waist that made Emma feel beautiful in a way her serviceable  jeans and leather jacket never quite achieved. That was her standard uniform. It wasn’t everyday she got to dress like royalty. She still insisted on wearing her borrowed sword and her boots, the one battle she had won with the indomitable woman who reminded her a little bit of Granny, a fierce lady who singlehandedly ran the diner back home.

The owner of the gown was still a mystery however, all Emma’s questions about the absent Queen to whom it once belonged met with awkward uncomfortable smiles and hurriedly changed subjects. She added it to the list of Things That Were Off About This Place, a list that was steadily growing as the day wore on.

She tried to keep on a happy face though for the children’s sake, and for their excited hosts. But she kept Grace close to her, Killian assuring her he would do the same with the boys as they left to dress in the repurposed rooms of the castle’s remains.

And Grace did look adorable in a borrowed dress of lavender and mint, this one a bit more careworn from current use, her face shining with excitement as she twirled and preened in front of the mirror, a flower crown on her head and beautiful new braids in her hair, her dagger tucked into a golden belt. It was worth the discomfort of an unwanted party to see the girl’s face, glowing with anticipation of a night she had never dreamed of experiencing.

She could only imagine how Roland and Henry were reacting, all of them starved for this kind of pomp and circumstance, a collection of orphans who hadn’t ever known special birthday gatherings or individual holiday celebrations beyond the institutional.

Still, it was best to be cautious, and Emma didn’t let her charge leave her sight. She had given Killian explicit, whispered instructions to do the same. Which he appeared to have heeded as they came back into the crowded square at dusk, Roland and Henry by his side, dressed in their borrowed formal attire, lightly scarred silk and leather, the only hint of their original clothing the sneakers on their feet, a dagger tucked into Henry’s wide brown held and Roland’s spyglass tucked into his.

The townspeople were gathered in various groups, their day clothes exchanged for more formal versions, chattering excitedly in the transformed courtyard. Tropical flowers and decorative vines hung from every available surface, freshly picked and brilliant in flickering torchlight.

Casks of water and home brewed wine lined the edges, serving as a last minute tables for the quickly prepared fare. There were various cooked meats and fruits on offer, mostly fish and fowl, pineapples, mangoes, and coconuts arranged as prettily as could be expected with only a few hours lead time. It reminded Emma of a luau. A medieval luau.

Killian had stuck by his refusal to change his clothes, the only concession to the event slightly neater hair, which was still a bit chaotic despite his efforts.

Her own preparations were worth every minute though when, catching sight of her, his mouth dropped open a tad, eyes gleaming as they raked her form, expression turning slowly from dumbstruck wonder into something salacious as he seemed to remember himself.

“You look-” he began, but Emma just smiled cutting him off.

“I know,” she smirked at him, doing a bit of preening of her own. She allowed him to bow, his hand warm as he slowly lifted hers for a courtly kiss, pressing his lips, soft and hot, to her skin. A frisson of heat made her stomach flutter, her fingers tingling, and she could feel her face warm as she cleared her throat.

“So what time does this thing start?” she asked, tucking her hair nervously behind her ear.

“Why now of course!” Arthur boomed, appearing as if from thin air at her side. She jumped, startled. “We were merely waiting on the guests of honor!” He declared to the gathered crowd, who cheered and clapped, all eyes on them once more.

“To those who outwitted The Beast!” Arthur crowed, and the villagers cheered again, echoing cries of “Death to The Beast!” filling the air.

“Forgive us for the rather sparse offerings,” Arthur said, taking Emma’s arm in his own. She could see Killian bristle in the corner of her eye as Arthur lead the group to the main table. “Our resources are limited here, but we make do.”

“It’s fantastic!” Henry cried. “Like a Hawaiian vacation!”

If Arthur knew what Hawaii was he gave no indication, just smiled and arranged for them to sit at the large stone table in the center of the square.

“First we feast!” He boomed again to more cheers. “And then some dancing.” He looked down to a now seated Emma.

“I hope you’ll do me the honor?” Before she could answer he had turned to Grace. “And you too of course.”

The girl blushed and nodded, delighted. Emma was not so pleased. Neither it appeared was Killian, who scowled down at the food that began appearing before them, sullenly drawing his flask from his pocket.

“And gifts, for the lovely ladies!” Arthur declared, an attendant coming forth with blue velvet pillows. “I’m afraid we’ve no jewels to adorn you but I hope you’ll accept these humble offerings as tokens of our esteem.” On the pillows lay two handmade necklaces, twin seashells on brown cord, moon shells Emma thought they were called from her days gathering shells on Maine’s beaches, one a pale pearlescent pink, the other a shimmering opal blue. He pulled aside Grace’s hair first, and then Emma’s taking turns to dramatically drape the necklaces around them. The brush of his fingers on her neck made her skin crawl.

“And for the gentleman,” Arthur said with a bow. Another pillow was brought forth by a second attendant, these necklaces were cowries, all three matching mottled amber and brown. Roland eagerly snatched his from the pillow and yanked it over his head. Henry was more polite, smiling his thank you and carefully pulling his over his head. Killian, however, shoved his unceremoniously into the pocket of his coat with a half hearted “Cheers, mate” and took a pull from his flask.

“Please, everyone, eat and drink your fill and then the dancing!” Arthur declared, taking his place at the head of the grand stone table on Emma’s right, raising a goblet high into the air.

The guests all clapped and began to eat, small metal plates passed around for everyone. The kids ate with enthusiasm, Killian more reservedly so, checking each bit of food and watching carefully who ate what.

“Can I ask you something?” Henry seemed to work up his courage after a long silence, turning towards the King.

“Ask away my boy,” Arthur said cheerfully.

“Why haven’t you tried to get the Sands yourself?” Henry asked.

“Oh we have, many generations have tried in fact. That’s why there are no trees on this island,” Arthur gestured behind him to indicate the lack of trees. “We felled the last few a decade or so ago. We have saplings of course, but they will not be ready for a long time yet.”

Henry looked upset by the news.

“So no boat can get past it? No matter how big or small or whatever?”

“The demon seems to sense them as soon as they cross into its domain,” Arthur said, taking a sip of his wine. “Or people rather, a few unfortunate souls found that out the hard way I’m afraid.” He looked at the group. “They tried to swim past the creature, thinking it wouldn’t notice.” He took another sip, this one a bit more aggrieved. “It did.”

With each word Henry’s face fell further and further, more and more troubled.

“Have you tried to fight it? With cannons and stuff?” He tried again.

“All we had,” Arthur said with a nod. “No blade can pierce its hide and we ran out of cannon shot long ago.” He seemed to check himself and added for emphasis. “Before my time, of course. My ancestors left records.”

Before Emma could stop further questions Henry was already asking, deliberately ignoring her look, repeating his question from earlier.

“And magic? You said people tried?”

“Henry!” Killian said it good naturedly, with a chuckle, raising his flask in a manner that suggested he had already used it liberally. Emma knew he hadn’t. “Leave the man alone, it’s a party lad, enjoy yourself!”’

“It’s quite alright,” Arthur said with a smile. “As I said on the road we’ve had little magic here. It’s how many arrive when they do, but they usually aren’t blessed with such a gift.” He narrowed his eyes. “Unless you had something in particular in mind?”

“No.” Henry said hastily, his eyes darting worriedly to Emma for a split second. “Nothing in mind just curious. Magic isn’t really a thing where we come from.”

Emma felt a surge of pride at his quick thinking, pretending to be interested in her food as she watched the man’s reaction in her periphery.

“And where is that, may I ask?” He directed the question to Emma, all charm and dimpled smiles.

“I mean I don’t know what you’d call it here? Earth? London is the city we came from,” Emma shrugged. “Magic free.”

“And how does one get here without magic?” Arthur asked, his voice edged in the barest hint of suspicion, as if trying to find holes in their tale.

“Why I brought them, of course,” Killian said, a bit louder than necessary. “Bit of a traveler meself. Ship and all that,” he stared Arthur down, as if daring him to argue.

“It is a beautiful vessel,” Arthur didn’t take the bait. “I’ve never seen the like.”

“Best ship in all the realms,” Killian said. “They asked for a favor finding the Sands, I used a bit of magic I had saved up to get them here.” He flashed his teeth. “For quite a lot of money actually.”

“And the return trip?” Arthur asked casually, taking another sip. “How did you plan on getting back?”

“Well the Sands are magical are they not?” Killian raised an eyebrow. “We planned on using them.”

Arthur nodded and frowned.

“I’m afraid you’ll be staying quite a while then,” he said regretfully, the very picture of a man delivering bad news. “I’m not sure if they can even be used in such a manner. I’m not familiar with how exactly they work. Before my time,” he repeated. “And I fear The Sands will never be retrieved, I’m sorry to say. The Beast is too formidable.”

Killian flashed his teeth again, gleaming in the torchlight, and raised his flask a bit.

“We’ll see about that.”

_____

The band was out of tune but made up for it with passion, old fiddles and pan pipes coming out of rough leather cases to sing their songs well into the night.

The kids were enjoying themselves immensely, Henry blushing and stammering his way into asking a pretty girl with doe eyes, and shining brown hair, the owner of Grace’s borrowed dress, to dance. Killian slapped his back in a congratulatory way as he passed, his grin infectious, eyes meeting Emma’s conspiratorially across the courtyard. He was refusing to join in himself, that smile the only one he’d shared since dinner, his scowl deterring anyone from asking him.

It was fun though, she had to admit, the people dancing and laughing, singing songs she had never heard before. Watching Roland dance with every older lady in attendance, his cheeks red from pinching, his giggles infectious as they spun him across the stone.

Only Grace seemed to not be having a good time, her eyes enviously watching the turning dancers, watching Henry and the girl, Violet bumble their way through their own version of the dance. Emma had offered to act as partner, but the girl had sadly shaken her head, fiddling with the seashell around her neck despondently. Emma herself had politely declined all offers, citing a bad knee as her excuse, preferring to watch rather than partake.

“Would you do me the honor, milady?”

Emma looked up startled, her face flushing at Killian’s voice above her. But when she did he wasn’t offering his hand to her, but rather to Grace with a comically exaggerated bow.

The girl’s face lit up delighted, and she nodded vigorously as she leapt from her seat. Killian shot Emma a wink over the girl’s head and swept Grace into his arms to join the throng.

Emma’s heart soared, the warmth returning as a grateful smile broke across her face, watching them dance. Killian’s movements we’re sure and graceful, obviously practiced, making up easily for Grace’s inexperience, twirling them with exaggerated movements that had the girl laughing joyfully as he spun them about. Emma couldn’t help the laugh that came out, the bubbling joy of seeing the girl so happy. Her heart thundered, stomach fluttering.

“He’s quite skilled,” Arthur remarked, appearing next to her again. “And you, I believe milady, promised me a dance.”

Emma wanted to protest she had done no such thing, but he was already pulling her to her feet, people marking their progress with their eyes, and before she could pull away he was leading her onto the floor.

Thankfully he was respectful, keeping his hands in neutral areas, a good distance between them as the fiddles began the next number, a waltz.

“So tell me about yourself Emma,” he said conversationally. He too was a skilled dancer, which being a King was unsurprising. He was also gracious about Emma repeatedly, and sometimes not so accidentally, treading on his feet. It was much harder than it looked this dancing business, she had never been to a dance that wasn’t a loud pulsing club before.

“Um there’s not much to tell,” Emma shrugged, almost stumbling on her dress as he whirled her around. “I’m a Sheriff’s Deputy. Like a guard of sorts? I keep the peace.”

“And take care of three children! You’re a busy woman,” Arthur smiled down at her.

“Well the kids are new,” Emma admitted. “I’m just taking care of them temporarily until we can find them a place. Their home burned down.”

“How tragic,” the words were right but the tone and expression was all wrong. “And that’s why you seek the Sands?”

“Yeah,” Emma said uneasily. “We want to fix it for them.”

“How noble and heroic,” again, the words were right, the tone was off. “Well I am impressed with what I’ve seen so far. That bit with the ship, flying through the air my squire said. He’d never seen the like.”

“Yeah, fairy dust,” Emma shrugged. “I guess that’s what it does.”

“Pixie dust,” Arthur corrected. “That’s what the pirate said.”

Emma frowned at the mild accusation in his correction, the instant label of Killian as a pirate. He was, but that wasn’t the point.

“Yeah, pixie, fairy, whatever. Little things with wings. Same difference,” she shrugged.

Arthur chuckled.

“Indeed. It’s just a ship that size-” before he could finish the thought a leather clad arm appeared between them.

“Mind if I cut in? Much obliged, mate,” Killian said before Arthur could protest, gently taking Emma into his arms and twirling them away before the man even opened his mouth.

“What about Grace?” Emma asked breathlessly, his sudden closeness making her head spin as he moved them expertly around.

“Had a better offer,” he tilted his head in close, their cheeks almost touching and indicated the spot where Grace and a handsome dark skinned youth were blushing at each other and moving about the floor.

Killian pulled away, but he was still ridiculously close, his eyes a brilliant blue in the firelight. Emma sucked in a breath, a jolt of electricity surging up her spine.

His face was open and warm, his smile easy and genuine, and it made her heart skip. It had been doing its fair share of gymnastics lately. It took her a moment to recognize how smoothly they were moving, Killian leading them easily back and forth, around and around, in perfect time to the stringed instruments.

“This is going much better,” Emma said, looking down at her feet for a second as if they belonged to someone else.

“I know what I’m doing,” Killian grinned at her, sweeping her into another twirl that had her hair flying back. She gasped and laughed as he pulled her back in again, the lines of his body flush with her own for just an instant before they were waltzing again.

“And where did you learn this?” Emma said, her grin threatening to split her face. “Not very piratey.”

“Ship’s cook,” Killian said, without embarrassment. He turned them again. “When I was a lad. Insisted it would win me the favor of all the ladies. Had me waltzing all over the bloody galley. The crew teased me for months.”

Emma laughed at the disgruntled expression on his face at the memory. The picture of a small teenage version of him waltzing with a portly cook.

“And did it work?” Emma teased. “Did you win the favor of “all the ladies”?”

Killian face turned serious for a moment, his eyes burning into her own. Her lips parted at the intensity in them, breathless once more, blood thundering in her ears as the music fell away. When he spoke again his voice was soft.

“I suppose you’ll have to let me know.”

______

Roland’s head lolled on Killian’s shoulder, a tiny sleep still face pressed into the curve of his neck, eyelashes impossibly long on a tiny cheek, arms dangling over leather clad shoulders. It made something warm and full rise in her chest again as they paraded down the moonlit beach, her arms full of their clothing, marching towards the waiting ship.

The King had insisted they sleep in the village, promising warm beds close at hand, no exhausted travel across the beach required. Killian had declined immediately, and she couldn’t blame him. Sheep lying among the lions. He had heaved the sleeping boy easily into his arms like picking up a pillow, and left Emma to thank the gathered villagers for their hospitality, a sleepy eyed Grace and Henry falling into line without protest.

They tucked them into cozy bunks, all three asleep before they pulled the blankets to their necks, a lantern casting the ship on a homey glow. She smoothed hair from their tired faces and wondered if she should kiss them asleep.

She stared at them, her heart wrenching in her chest as she thought of the impossible promise she had made, and the day that was looming on the horizon. The day when they would go, sent somewhere she couldn’t follow. Despite herself she knew she would miss them terribly. Tears prickled her eyes, chest hollow, and she smoothed one more curl from Roland’s forehead.

She looked to Killian, holding the lantern from the doorway, not wanting to intrude, and the sharp pang beneath her ribs told her she would probably miss him too. She pushed the thought aside and forced a shaky smile, following him back to the Captain’s cabin.

He was silent as he poured them drinks, not asking just seeming to know, his fingers deftly removing the cap one handed, tilting amber liquid into the waiting tin mugs.

“Penny for your thoughts,” he said collapsing wide legged into the chair across from her.

“I’m not thinking about anything,” Emma said quickly, the raised eyebrow, the curving tilt of his mouth and blue eyed stared told her he didn’t believe her.

She took a drink, avoiding his gaze, looking at the ceiling and willing the tears back into her eyeballs. The smirk dropped, face softening.

“Love,” he said softly, that endearment again, zipping across her shoulders, settling on her spine, it made her squirm in her seat. “Something is troubling you, and it’s not this place, those people or infernal sea monsters.”

It took her a moment to answer, voice rough.

“I told them I would do this,” Emma said softly after a moment, her voice too loud in the quiet cabin, the only other sounds the waves lapping at the shore. The ship was still on the beach, discomforting with its lack of sway.

Killian was quiet for a moment, frowning down at his mug. He took an agitated sip.

“It’s too risky,” he said after a moment more of silence. Anger roared to life in her chest. He held up a placating hand. “I’m just being logical Swan.” He said after a moment, his voice edged in concern she didn’t want. “That beast would rip you limb from limb and then what would they do?”

She knew he had a point. She wasn’t much, but at the moment she was all they had. Until they returned home, back to institutions and strange foster families, new rules and the constant sense of waiting for the other shoe to drop. Not good enough. Unwanted. Too difficult.

Emma took another drink.

“Perhaps there’s another way,” Killian said gently, as kindly as he could. It grated on her nerves.

“What way?” She scoffed. Killian shrugged.

“I have no doubt you’ll find one. I’ve seen you determined,” he cast an eye above to the roof of his ship, seeing through it to the deck above.

“I don’t want to send them back to nothing,” Emma said firmly, finishing her drink with a one last gulp, alcohol searing her throat on the way down.

“You won’t,” Killian insisted, trying again. She ignored him, anger and helplessness beating out any gratitude for his unwavering faith.

“Where am I sleeping?” She asked finally, exhaustion winning out.

“My bed,” he motioned towards the narrow bunk in his room. Emma balked.

Killian rolled his eyes, standing up to press a warm hand firmly to her back, hot through the thin fabric of her borrowed dress, and pushed her towards it. “Alone. I’ll sleep on deck. Keep watch.” He patted his sword.

“Alone?” She looked at him again, surprised by the offer.

“You’re welcome to keep me company,” he winked at her. “Might be cold up there.” The flirty devil grin was back and she rolled her eyes.

“I think your giant coat will manage just fine,” she said wryly. He tsked, like it was a pity, but moved towards the ladder.

“Thank you for a most enjoyable evening, Emma Swan,” he swept a low exaggerated bow at her from across the room.

“You’re ridiculous,” she smiled though, shaking her head, the threat of tears forgotten as he grinned at her. She watched him turn, his long legs disappearing up the ladder to the deck above.

Emma sighed as she settled into the bed, straining to hear him on the deck above, worry turning her stomach, worry for him alone up there unknown threats in the darkness, worry for the children asleep in their beds, worry for her fragile raw heart and what would eventually happen to it.

She stared, wide awake at the ceiling, wondering what she should do.

____

Morning sun slanted into the room, and the smell of cooking and the sounds of laughter had her jolting awake, fumbling for the drawer of her bedside table where she kept her gun. Her hand met plain painted wood, no knob, and she looked down at it bewildered.

Right. Pirate ship. Another realm. Not her cozy Storybrooke home at all. There was another peal of laughter from somewhere on the ship and she blinked in confusion.

As if she had summoned them a parade of mostly smiling children burst into the room from the door across the way. Roland carried a basket of what looked to be bread, almost spilling it as he tipped it up into the table. Next came Grace, trusted with two pitchers, one a tarnished silver, the other white ceramic. She grinned at Emma, looking back and frowning slightly as Henry came in, his nose buried in a book. Killian followed after, balancing a tray on one arm, steam rising up from the contents.

“What’s that?” Emma asked groggily, self consciously smoothing a hand over her hair, surreptitiously brushing sleep from her eyes. She must look awful, and here he was marching into her bedroom as fresh as a daisy, cheeks tinged red, eyes twinkling despite where he had spent the night.

“Breakfast,” he said cheerfully. “Fit for a Princess,” he set it carefully on the table. Emma’s nose wrinkled faintly in distaste at the small white pieces of fish on the platter, appeased slightly by the much more reasonable fruit.

“How?” Emma’s brain was struggling to catch up.

“The miracle of propane,” Killian said with a wink. “The last of it I’m afraid, I didn’t have a chance to refill, given our abrupt departure.”

“This is nice,” Emma said surprised.

“There’s coffee and tea,” Grace declared proudly. “I made it myself.” Killian gave Emma a look over the girl’s head that said she’d be best to stick to water. Henry settled into a chair, his face troubled, turning a page in his book.

“Killian has donuts!” Roland said excitedly. Killian shook his head.

“Croissants, lad,” he said, apologetically as the boy’s face fell, nose wrinkling. “They might be a bit stale actually.”

“I’m sure they’re fine,” Emma’s heart filled with that strange warmth again, as he moved about the cabin gathering up mismatched dishes and utensils.

“Henry?” Emma asked cautiously, noticing he was the only one not smiling, the only one not joining in on the morning breakfast preparations. “Everything okay?”

Henry looked up, still frowning.

“I don’t think Arthur was telling us the truth,” he said after a moment.

“About the kraken?” She looked at Killian, who was taut with interest, the plates and forks forgotten on the table.

“No,” Henry shook his head and turned the book towards her. She squinted, an elaborate portrait on the paper she could barely make out. She swung her legs from the bed, smoothing her hair one more time, flicking a self conscious glance at Killian as she took the book from the boy.

It was a painting, or a reproduction of one, a man who looked remarkably like their royal host, embracing a stunning woman from behind. A woman wearing the exact same dress Emma currently wore.

“I don’t think Arthur’s a descendent of the people who used to lived here,” Henry said grimly. “The ones who misused the Sands. I think he IS one of them.”

“But that’s impossible,” Emma said. “It’s been centuries.” The man in the picture was the spitting image, and the dress was exactly the same, down to the smallest golden threads.

“I know but I’m sure it’s him,” Henry said. “The book we found with the Sands in it references this one.” He held up the cover which said A History of Camelot in boldly elaborate script. “I didn’t notice at first because they called it The Broken Kingdom in that one, but I found it this morning when I was looking for a way to get past The Beast. I think he’s the King Arthur.”

Killian took the book from him, studying the image.

“There is a strong likeness,” he said after a moment.

“That’s why he tried to get the Sands so badly,” Henry said. “He’s the one who got them taken away.” He took the book back from Killian, and flipped a few pages.

“It says they were a gift from the wizard Merlin-” Killian snorted in derision as the word wizard, obviously not his favorite people. “-to repair the realm and build a utopia for his people after a tireless crusade against dark forces. A reward.”

Emma sat down carefully, her stomach growling. She scooped some fruit on her plate, uneasy as Henry read.

“And then what happened?” Grace asked, helping Roland onto his seat, he was already shoving mango into his mouth.

“The Queen fell in love with one of his knights apparently, they ran off together. Arthur had her captured, used the Sands to keep her with him. Enslaved her.” Henry looked up eyes wide in horror at the thought.

“That certainly explains why no one would talk to us about her,” Emma said.

“When Merlin found out he punished him, sent the Sands to the bottom of the sea and set a beast to guard them so they couldn’t be used for evil ever again.” Henry kept reading.

“The Kraken,” Emma said unnecessarily.

“Merlin freed Guinevere-” Henry looked up, “-that’s the Queen. He freed her and took her and anyone who wished with him, leaving Arthur and those loyal to him behind.”

“Well that explains the creep factor,” Emma said. Killian nodded in agreement.

“I think he wants to use us to get the Sands,” Henry said. “That’s why he’s being so nice. We have a ship so he can try again.” Henry looked up fiercely. “We can’t let Arthur get his hands on them. No matter what.”

“We won’t,” Emma reassured, it was all clicking into place. The weird villagers, Arthur’s disingenuous charm, the edge to his expressions. She looked at Henry proudly. “Good work, kid. We knew there was something weird about him but this explains a lot. Not how he looks so fresh after a few hundred years…but a lot.”

“Some lands have magic that prevents you from growing older,” Killian offered. “The curse of eternity.”

“Well that doesn’t sound so bad,” Emma’s thoughts flickered to Ingrid. “Living forever.”

“It’s not all it appears to be, I assure you,” he said grimly.

“Well it’s obvious it’s not safe here,” Emma looked apologetically to Henry. “Who knows what he’ll do. A few hundred years of desperation is not something I want to tangle with.”

To his credit and her surprise the boy nodded without argument, obviously upset, but perhaps realizing they were out of their depth, facing both a sea monster and some kind of people enslaving psycho. He seemed shaken by the thought, his face troubled. They had dined with the man, danced with him. It was a strange thought that underneath the charming smile was a man who could do something so horrible to another human being. A man who could take away free will and choice with nary a thought.

Killian flopped into a chair across from her, that splayed legged lazy posture she’d come to recognize filling up half the room. He popped a small red berry into his mouth.

“Let’s discuss strategy,” he said after a moment.

“Strategy?” Emma looked up in surprise almost dropping her fork.

“To get the Sands,” he said slowly, looking at her as if she were daft. “Preferably without that tosser knowing about it.”

“You still want to try and get them?” Her eyes goggled at him in shock, mouth dropping open. The kids were equally as surprised, except Roland who was too busy eating to listen to discussions about their lunatic host. Henry barely suppressed a delighted noise of triumph.

Emma frowned at Killian, anger rising in her chest that he was giving the boy hope again. It wasn’t right to lead him on that way. There were far too many of Arthur’s people to fend them all off. Not to mention the giant sea monster.

“Well,” he said casually, leaning even further back in his chair. “We came all this way.”

“You said last night it was impossible,” Emma accused.

“I said it was risky,” Killian corrected. “And it is, but I’m certain if we put our heads together we can come up with something. Preferably quickly.”

“What about a disguise?” Roland offered, mouth full. They all looked at him confused as he chewed and swallowed.

“A disguise?” Emma asked.

“Yeah, to get past the monster,” Roland said reasonably as if it should be the most obvious thing in the world. “Sneak past it like a ninja.”

“A ninja,” Killian said dubiously.

“Or a pirate,” Roland amended, perhaps thinking he had offended him.

“That’s a nice idea,” Emma said kindly to the boy with a soft smile. “But I think it would notice. Arthur said it could sense people.”

“People,” Grace said thoughtfully. “But not animals.”  Henry picked up on her train of thought instantly, looking at their breakfast of fish and fruit excitedly. Emma and Killian glanced at each other and then back to the children confused.

“Fish could get past it,” Henry said, his voice rising with renewed enthusiasm.

“Fish,” Killian said flatly.

Emma had a sinking feeling she knew where they were going with this. She looked to Killian helplessly, but he just looked baffled and a bit like he was wondering if the children were insane.

“Can you do it?” Henry asked her, his eyes alight with hope and trust. Emma floundered, mouth opening and closing uselessly.

“Can you do what?” Killian asked impatiently, his eyes snapping to hers.

“Turn us into fish!” Roland said bouncing in his seat, also catching on. “With her magic!”

“Oh bloody hell,” Killian scrubbed his hand across his face.

“No,” Emma said firmly, shaking her head. “Absolutely not.”

She ignored the crestfallen look on Henry’s face, stubbornly avoiding the flame of hope extinguishing rapidly in his eyes. There was no way. It was too dangerous. Her magic too unpredictable, and the monster had far too many teeth for her liking. It was also the most ridiculous thing she had ever heard.

There was a tense silence for a moment.

“Can you even do that?” Killian asked, his voice thoughtful, contemplating. “I thought perhaps you just did monkeys.”

Emma gave him a look usually reserved for the deranged or insane, her eyes wide with disbelief that he was even continuing this conversation, that he was entertaining a plan thought up by a 5 year old and two pre-teens.

“It doesn’t matter if I can do it,” Emma snapped. “I’m not going to.”

“But theoretically,” he tried again. “Could you?”

“I don’t know,” she huffed, exasperated. “I guess. I just think of the animal and say the spell.”

“And when you looked at me you thought monkey?” Killian asked incredulously, his face going from curious to outraged in a blink.

“I don’t know!” Emma threw her hands up, feeling like she was rapidly losing control of this situation. “It was the first thing I thought of. Monkeys are cute, I don’t know.” She repeated.

“So you looked at me and thought cute,” he seemed marginally appeased by that. Emma scowled at him over the table.

“It lasted about what, ten minutes in your realm?” Killian said thoughtfully. “But your magic is stronger here. Presumably it could last longer.”

“No,” Emma repeated firmly. “It’s too dangerous.”

“For you and the children, yes,” Killian agreed. He held up his hand to silence their protests without looking at them, waving it impatiently for silence. Their mouths snapped shut.

“What do you mean for me?” Emma asked affronted, immediately defensive. She was just as capable as him.

“Someone has to cast the spell, love,” he reminded her.

“I’m not casting any spell,” Emma threw up her hands in exasperation, she wasn’t giving into this madness. “It’s not happening. Forget it.”

“Emma,” Killian said seriously, his tone had her looking up, those blue eyes burning into her own. “The creature can sense humans. It would destroy this ship in moments if we tried. The boy is right, we would need a disguise to fool it, and we just so happen to have someone here who can provide one. How many people could say the same?” He leaned back in his chair. “And we have a volunteer to do it.” He laid his hook on his chest.

Raw panic clawed into her throat. She had never done such a thing before, not when so much was at stake. She thought of her feeble attempts back home in her shed, her half successful tries to make the spells work, and shook her head.

“I can’t,” she said softly. She still couldn’t look at Henry. Couldn’t look at Grace or Roland. She could only look at Killian, at those blue, blue eyes, which crinkled and softened, a small smile tilting his lips at her.

“You can.”

Onto Part Five

[doctordim]

REGEN

Chapter I Chapter II Chapter III  Chapter IV

His history with Artyom had blossomed from the black rosebud of the mundane.

He’d shook hands with the esteemed doctor some time ago amidst the field of perpetual combat, replacing a traumatized colleague cowed by the pressure of working at a medical research station straddling the great wall of Grimvault, or more likely from the irradiating and wilting exposure to Doctor Payne himself. They had worked very well together… from a purely technical standpoint in the field of cutting instruments and blood.

He’d always liked to think that he could have the right tool in his gnarled hands or a wound cleaned and sutured before the skilled surgeon even asked. This did not grant him an exemption from the doctor’s vile barbs, but by good fortune and fortitude he had shown himself more or less immune to its effects. All he did was smile and shrug in response and help the enclave in any way he could.

Then, one night, the outbreak took place. Vital and vast reservoirs of the team’s vitalus serum were soon sullied by invasive traces of the strain. Unfit for imbibing (and generally agreed upon that infection was a fate worse than ravening) the mordesh population within the research station began to drop like flies – short-lived mayflies, one by one. Dmitriy and Doctor Payne had toiled tirelessly in the main triage theater to a time worryingly later than their usual vitalus changing, setting the two surgeons an hour or two out of sync with the rest of their doomed cabal. It saved their lives, in a way.

While familiar faces stalked the halls shrieking and sniffing out signs of unturned flesh the mordesh men managed to dispatch some minions of the contagion’s embrace, find each other in the midst of the battlefield still sane, and hid. A barricaded broom closet made do for the moment as they waited, ticking down the minutes until their vitalus too ran out and they would willingly join the fold.

He could not remember who had grabbed the other first out of raw, cold fear for their mortality, clutching at a warm body in lieu of scooping up the last few grains of sand in their hourglass. He’d marveled at the surprising tactile warm from such a waspish frame; such a quick beating heart strangled by adrenaline, excitement and dread.

Likewise, he couldn’t recall who had crushed lip to unfeeling metal jaw-frame or if he’d moved first, forgetting artificial prosthesis wreathed in black memories for the first time since such clouds had formed. Hands had moved of their own accord, groping hard in darkness. If he was going to die, torn apart by ravenous ally or starved for serum until he snapped and ripped apart his comrade’s face, the only primal scream they could emit into the face of doom without attracting death was to each other – a petulant, violent statement that they were alive until the end.

Indeed, in the end the Black Hoods rescue attempt found them before the ravenous or strain-infected could. They’d arrived just in time, too; some months after the fact the head of the rescue squad admitting to Dim that another fifteen minutes without forcibly separating, tying them down and slamming an emergency vitalus booster into their reservoirs and they never would have brought both Dmitriy and Doctor Payne back from the verge of growling, carnal beasts. He’d laughed at the worlds of his friend, proudly remarking that even now in all honesty nothing much had changed.

All jokes aside though, it had been awkward. Very awkward. You don’t just end-of-the-world fuck with a respected colleague in a moment of crisis and then pretend like everything is completely normal the next day. He’d tried to ignore it, tried to push aside the bloodlust-tinted ravenous recollections in that coffin-like rectangular space, for the sake of professionalism, for the sake of decency, but from the very beginning there were cracks in his façade – and Artyom’s too.

He daydreamed against his will. He became absentminded, often forgetting a carefully worded instruction or a request for assistance in the middle of an operation, back home safely now in the middle of Thayd. He’d caught himself glancing more and more at the red-haired, demon surgeon behind cloth face masks; always when he wasn’t looking. In turn, Doctor Payne didn’t yell or roar or attempt to sting him with carefully worded barbs of poison either, merely repeating his instruction more firmly and curtly until Dmitriy snapped back to reality again.

They hadn’t really spoken at length about what had happened to them, even now. All Doctor Konstantinov knew was that some weeks later, when the whole fiasco was just beginning to fade from his mind and swapping scrubs for his more comfortable civvies, Doctor Payne had come upon him without remorse, cornering him in the changing room.

It hadn’t been to roast him alive, or to make up for the past few weeks of vitriol. The towering, feared surgeon of atomic anger that had scared his predecessor off in a matter of days instead hesitantly, almost shyly had asked him for a date. A date. In both bewilderment and relief he had accepted right away.

The rest, as they were so wont to say, was history.

For the first time in many, many decades Dmitriy had been happy. They did fight at times, held wildly different opinions on a great many things and often were as night and day, but something seemed to just click between them. Eventually he had realized that the desperate flutter in his chest every time Artyom came skulking in with that scowl on his face was the resurgence of love.

Love. Who could have guessed, in such a rotten world?

So, was it wrong to want to remove an unfeeling metal jaw-frame to kiss him for real, for the first time? Was it hubris to watch the object of his affections suffer in painful prosthesis and yearn to change all that? Regen could have been his ticket to greatness, true, but that was merely a by-product of his true intentions.

But he had messed it up.

He had messed it up so bad, so bad.

This was not something the fancy of fortune would be able to fix.

xxx

He’d cried out before in pain and surprise, but this time Doctor Konstantinov let out a shriek of abject terror.  He felt that, felt his hand touching the lump… and felt the lump in turn touching his hand.

So paralyzed by the discovery was he that his ruined and regenerating body gave a violent, uncontrollable buck to distance himself from the growing horrors attached to his flesh that his socked feet slipped forward on the metal flooring of his lab and his knees crumpled once more, dropping him fast enough to crack the back of his head against the edge of the table and douse his vision in a shower of sparkling stars.

Fortunately, the cables framing his face and skull were made of a sturdier stuff than he’d hoped and the only thing he received was a visible dent that hadn’t even broken through the durable polymers. Almost panting, (and later on he’d realize, quite ineffectively for air), Dim probed a hand around to feel for the damage. He tried to rise again, grasping at the furniture for purchase, but his fingers were too mangled and his legs too numb to rise. Only pins and needles danced up and down the panicked nerves where he’d fallen. Even with vigorous, clawed rubbing he could barely feel anything at all.

Dmitriy’s laughter was high-pitched and wheezing, almost whistling through clenched teeth as tears of hurt and fear streamed freely down his cheeks. He didn’t know what was happening – he hadn’t a clue! Nothing, not a single outlier in any of his wildest scientific dreams could have accounted for this! What in the name of Kemos was happening to him?

The mordesh measured the growths around his waist one more time, battling to bring his composure back under control. He stretched out his fingers and thumb and found that the nubs were already longer by a good third and could hardly be called a nubbin anymore, stretching out and out with every twisting, wrenching pulse of his bruised body. Little clusters of virgin suckers were forming across the underside, exuding a thin protective lubricant to insulate himself from the harsh, open air.

He chuckled through his pained tears. Surely he must have raised the shutters and opened the window directly into true insanity. All he need do now is stick his head inside.

“Ahhh… Bambi. My Bambi. I’ve really done it this time…”

He fumbled for his damaged datachron one last time. It was the only object that could root him to normalcy in the midst of madness, as difficult as it was to manipulate with uncooperative digits. As alien limbs sought to slither across his already atrophying legs he hit the redial for the second time that day, pleading, almost praying in weak whispers to “please pick up. Come on now, please… please pick up.”

It rang for a few moments, hesitated in turn, and then switched immediately back over to the familiar and clipped intonation of Doctor Payne’s voicemail. As Artyom had earlier, a city away, Dmitriy felt the impulse to throw his datachron against the wall in frustration, but what would that have accomplished, really? He truly would have been cut off from the rest of the world.

The pressure in his core tightened as fresh pain erupted from the base of his skull. He dialled again, listlessly, his only movements the heaving of his chest and the slight twitch of a thumb against the screen.

Whirr. Humm.

“Speak now. Swi-”

Click.

Dmitriy slumped back further against the table. Admittedly, it did not feel quite as bad as his jaw trying to rip through his face and displace his prosthesis while still attached to his body, but he was… quickening. Becoming. Parts of him were quietly dislocating and dissolving. Muscles bulged larger than they had ever been in life. He flicked his thumb again.

Whirr. Humm.

“Speak-”

Click.

New nerves arched to life, petitioning a permanent connection to his brain. All of a sudden he could feel; really feel, more than he had ever felt before. He felt wrong, dry; unpleasant – remembering the dark, dripping depths of his dreams.

Whirr. Humm.

“Spe-”

Crackle.

The good doctor let out a growl that sounded right at him in the deep wilderrun jungle. It took all the willpower from the kind, gentle half of him slowly drowning in endless waters to not completely crush the contraption in powerful, too-large hands; merely cracking the casing instead. Artyom was not going to suddenly spring to action and rescue him. It already seemed too late to rely on the aid of an esteemed, great surgeon and scientist to fix his mistakes and make him all better again.

But perhaps there was someone else.

Drifting away from familiar territory, the degenerating doctor dialled another number not nearly used as often as his lover’s. There was an aqueous quality to his breathing now, so soon freed from the artificial tinge of false vocal chords, slipping past teeth hooked and horrible as they clumsily spun out the words. It took scarcely more than three rings for the receiver to pick up this time, thank the gods.

“Mmmaaaaaalllll…” Dmitriy groaned before the other could even speak.

He heard a marked hesitation on the line, sounds of slight static, and the unmistakeable crunch of boots on dry leaves coming to a snappy stop. A soft, deep voice intoned; “… Doctor?”

The abomination coiled against (and somewhat around) the lab table exhaled a wet sigh of relief. “Furrr… mmmmallll-deeeeh…. Hhhhk… Mmmal. I nnnneeed yuuuuhhh…” He tried to say, but it was difficult. He had quickly remastered speaking with flesh and bone again after so long, but it felt like the air to breathe wasn’t exactly taking the right channels to come out as words. Something felt like it was sticking like a dam in his lungs and his sides hurt at every ragged attempt.

As for the agent on the other end, his voice was harder this time. Firmer. Hundreds of miles away a shadowed, lithe form waved towards some seemingly empty trees to give the signal to hold the snipers for now, and then he touched his ear delicately to focus on the call. “Dim. This is dire. Are you about to become ravenous? Is this why you are calling me?” He asked.

He’d asked himself that not long ago. Now, it was much harder to waive such a concept away. Dmitriy shook his head slowly before realising his friend had his datachron configured to audio only. “Mmmalll, I mmay have mmmade… mmyself a mmonsterrr… Ssssend help…” He pleaded, trying to gain enough leverage to rise from his tangle on the floor.

Agent Formaldehyde absorbed this data, such as it was. He was already mentally preparing the paperwork to justify the order to retreat, for on the borders of disputed territory most of his men were mordesh and many would have agreed; a potential patient zero catalysing an outbreak carried more weight than the war of attrition against the Dominion so far.

His short nod was barely discernable in the darkness as he opened up a secondary channel. “Acknowledged. Markus. Miles. Mikhail, abort. Fall back while I contact the nearest harrower.” There was only a rustling of the trees and mere moments later faint footsteps echoed into the night. The black hood turned back to his datachron call, sallow features creasing into a frown. “Dmitriy, are you still there?”

He received no words for an answer but he could hear the other man panting. Wet, gluey, raspy panting.

“This had better not be one of your jokes, Dim. The Widow does not have much of a sense of humour.” Formaldehyde warned, but he already highly doubted such a possibility. Something felt quite wrong according to the raised metaphorical hackles at the back of his neck.

By this point Dmitriy needed both hands free to heave himself back up to an average standing height against the lab bench. To manage this a clumsy, uncoordinated appendage at first gripped around the datachron for him before dumping it with a clash and a clatter upon the clean surface. He peered at it unsteadily like a mermaid propping himself up against jutting rocks. How had he even, he didn’t know just-

– AHHH! –

- but a roiling, ripping feeling was beginning to coalesce between his pelvic bone and navel, one that also seemed to be pulling outward too, but with fire; white hot rolling fire!

Formaldehyde visibly cringed and pulled his earpiece out with slender fingers as an almost surprised, sharp howling scream pierced through the ear bud receiver. It had barely sounded human, or in their case mordesh. Erstwhile, in the wake of something horrific and vital ripping open within him Dmitriy slid like a cage-less squirg low to the ground once again.

A massive pair of jaws unhinged. Black keratin, hard as iron. One great big hook lunged down and sliced through cloth, skin, rotting flesh and weak dissolving bone. The doctor all at once experienced an agony-tipped sensation that none other on nexus had felt – the simultaneous half-numb pain of being eaten alive and the strange, sickly-sweet taste of his own flesh and soft marrow.

“Dim! Are you there? Dim! Answer me!”

He could not respond now. His call to Formaldehyde, more often called Mal to friends, may as well have been in the Halon Ring for all the good it did him now. But still, the call continued unabated and recorded every pained moan, every audible thrash and every crack, crunch and hungry gulp.

Agent Formaldehyde spat out a word in his native mordescu that he wasn’t allowed to say at home. If looks could kill the stalker’s glowing grey-eyed glower could have… made a colleague pretty uncomfortable at the time. “Very well, stay right there. Operatives will be sent to your location.” It was a bold statement considering he had no real control over that, but he was confident. His expression softened somewhat. “Dmitriy. Do not die.”

All this fell upon distracted ears. The doctor was far too preoccupied with the hurt in his guts and the savage, almost feathered-membranous slits slicing open beneath his ribs to hear the reassurances of a friend. Abandoning the damaged device, Dim crawled across the floor painfully like a snake on his belly, clawed fingers seeking purchase on the uneven metal panelling to pull his large and too-long body along, foot by foot.

Artyom. He wanted Artyom to find him instead. He wanted his tall, clever firebrand to stride in through the door right this very minute, fold his arms and glare at him in that unmistakeably doctor Payne way that always set his heart at ease. He’d say something incisive that Dim would not be able to deny or refute, and then he would forgive him and help him into his lab and… and… and fix things. Artyom would think of something – he always did – and come this time next week he’d be kissing him for real; for the very first time and it would all be so… so worth it.

Dmitriy wept new tears this time, not of pain but simple weary despair. That was merely a delirious dream and not about to happen, and it was all his fault.

His urgency increased as the cuts in his sides strained and gasped for… not air, he determined, but something else. It was becoming more and more difficult to breathe with his lungs and his skin was so dry it hurt. He could not remain like this any longer.

The taste of blood and bone faded from his senses as his massive muscled arms hoisted the humanoid part of his body up against the windowsill letting in the gloaming twilight into his lab. He’d kept it locked most of the time and he didn’t have the key on hand right then, but if his memory served him correct two storeys down and a little ways further into the jungle a strong river flowed through wilderrun and beyond. It had made for good fishing once upon a time, or refreshing to dip ones toes in, but now all Dim could think about was the water.

Water.

Water.

Every fibre of his distorted being needed it more than air and earth combined.

The creature shrugged off his stained lab coat and the tattered remains of his shirt, wrapping a fist in the fabric before slamming it as hard as he could into the pane. The glass shattered readily into ragged shards and he took the extra time to pick out the pieces still attached tenaciously to the frame.

Levering himself to barely fit inside the window, just like the little scamp he had once been to sneak out of history class alone, Dmitriy took one last look over his shoulder at the cradle of his hubris. The datachron was still running and the place was an utter mess. Well, he’d clean it up later, he thought.

He crawled outside the window and leaned. Alien limbs gripped, adhering to every crack and crumble. For a moment he felt the fresh touch of wind on his unmarked, healed face.

And then he fell.

[meadowhilley]

it’s back

Today, my friends, is World Cancer Day. How exactly does one celebrate such an occasion, you wonder? That’s actually what I’m writing to find out. For starters it seems like a fitting moment to break my nearly year-long silence and tell you It’s back.

Not the cancer—I’m still “free,” as far as anyone can tell. No, what’s back with a vengeance is the sensation of living with an ugly and insidious thing growing inside me. The Get-It-The-Fuck-Out-Of-Me urgency that two and a half years ago made me drop everything, fall into a blue vinyl chair, and start blogging straight through my chemo infusions.

I still can’t explain by what internal mechanism this revelation about my compromised physical state triggered a visceral awareness that I’d been living with a different sort of malignancy for decades—a tangled knot of repressed emotion growing more potent and far-reaching as I happily went about the manic business of being a working mom. Or how I understood that my ability to heal bodily was predicated on my willingness to undergo a mental purge. Or how I knew with absolute certainty what I needed to do, even in those foggy predawn moments before the diagnosis had fully resolved into a clear picture of what awaited me in the days and months ahead.

Whether it was some atavistic survival instinct that kicked in or what they (dismissively) chalk up to “women’s intuition,” whether it was divine inspiration or something closer to unhinged delusion, at the very moment I received The Bad News I found myself in A State of Grace, like in a primal garden scintillating with dew where knowledge hangs low on the branch, hungry for the right mouth.

Glutton that I am, I bit. And instantly I came to understand that my body was a book I’d been writing for years without ever stopping to read it. At the center of my story was this malignant enigma, a living organism pregnant with meaning whose tendrils reached greedily through the space-time of my inner landscape, looking to occupy all my vital sites.

Stopping its spread and reversing the cancer’s insidious creep was the obvious goal of our immediate coordinated response. But as my three doctors each took up their weapons—poison, blade, and fire—I lay low like a meadow-turned-battlefield, bracing myself for the onslaught and devising an alternate plan, knowing that the only way to truly best this beastly part of me that fed on darkness was to draw it out, into the light.

So I painted my face. Obviously. Spent a week wearing only dresses. Naturally. Loitered seductively at the mouth of what I guessed might be my deepest emotional cavern. Patiently. Until one day, in the small round mirror of my compact case, I glimpsed a dark shade emerging against a background of shadow. Taking a sultry step forward in my red two-inch heels, I watched discretely as it advanced with predatory appetite, hypnotized by the allure of an easy meal. And at the very moment it crouched to pounce, I turned to face my Beast-Me.

Go ahead, I told my cancerous self, feeling beautiful for once and more powerful than ever. Show me how ugly I am inside. You will not be the first.

My plan wasn’t particularly well-formed. I was totally winging it, to be honest. With hindsight though it’s possible to list the major steps of my cancer-fighting campaign as:

1. Perform strength to psych myself up for the encounter.

2. Position myself as bait.

3. Coax the unknown threat out of hiding.

4. Subject it to intense examination.

5. Force it to reveal its origins.

6. Love the thing to death.

All on my terms, in a place where I felt safe and strong and well supported.

In other words, I would write the cancer out of me.

Out, like, in the open. Words confided to a private journal were not going cut it. An invasive species so entrenched would have to be pulled up by the roots into the glaring light of day and subjected to full exposure. This pathogen and its attending pathos should be left to shrivel and wilt under public scrutiny, I understood, until having lost all potency conferred by me, their host, they would reveal their true, pathetic nature and leave me whole.

If you’re not an exhibitionist by nature, writing publicly about your intimate past and present is highly ill-advised. Maybe you’re someone who cares about what people think of you. Or maybe you have a family to protect, a job you’d like to keep, or competing interests and hobbies. In my case, all of these inhibiting factors were compounded by the muzzling effect of four hundred years of injustice perpetrated by the West, which we have systematically justified by painting the Other as radically different—a threat to be mastered, a contagion to be contained.

How could I possibly talk about my challenging 13-year relationship with my African ex-husband, who was also a Muslim, without perpetuating these longstanding stereotypes and adding fuel to the fire? How could I tell my story without doing more harm than good? Fully aware of the risk that my experience would be generalized and my words misinterpreted, I felt compelled to write all the same. Common sense and fear, I came to feel, were my greatest enemies. To build a bridge, you’ve got to reach dangerously across the gaping abyss.

All this to say that hitting “Post” was never a mindless gesture for me. It required a force of will that ran counter to reason, and caution, and instinct.

Announcing that I had cancer in a Facebook status update was admittedly a shameless bid for your attention, like dancing carelessly on a mountain ledge. But I wouldn’t have sought your attention if I didn’t think it was absolutely vital to my healing. You, dear friends, were the gentle sunlight that scorched my disease better than a daily dose of photon rays at +$3,000 a pop x 25 sizzling pops. It was because you agreed to bear witness to my self-designed form of treatment by reading me as I attempted to decipher the book of my body that I got better. You did that. Each one of you made a difference. And it didn’t cost us anything but time.

So now it’s back. That oh-shit-here-we-go-again feeling, like there’s some creature dragging its claws through my gut from the inside. Only this time I’m even more reluctant to write publicly. For one, I’ve been writing privately, trying to build a bigger bridge, in silence, and that jealous pursuit demands all the attention I can afford to give it.

But, UGH. The world changed two weeks ago just as it did two years back with the diagnosis, and ten years before that when my first marriage ended: abruptly, dramatically, alarmingly. A rug has just been pulled out from under our feet, and with my introvert laid out in utter shock, my extrovert showed up, a rival sibling looking to compete for the same scant resources of time and attention, demanding I Do Something Now.

Don’t! shouted my introvert, albeit weakly from the floor. Keep to yourself, it pleaded. Focus your angst inward. Don’t be so arrogant as to think you have something of value to say in the here and now. Lay low. Leave this one to the activists and experts.

Reasonable arguments, all. But here’s the thing: on the subject of hostile takeovers, I am something of an expert. I devoted my doctoral dissertation to groups who used writing as a means of liberating themselves from their longtime oppressors. I lived for six years in a country that had only achieved its independence a generation earlier. Even more instructive, I personally survived the experience of being colonized twice: first mentally, by my domineering ex, then physically, by the cancer, whose insidious advance reminded me so much of the guy’s subtle way of methodically getting me to give up my freedoms, one by one, until it seemed I had nothing left. Claiming that others would be better suited to speaking out against the authoritarian power grab by the big bully now occupying the White House, that someone else would do a better job describing the risks his tyrannical methods pose to our liberty and national character, it’s all just bullshit, a way of shirking my responsibility.

So it’s with a certain authority that I can assure you: the cancer plaguing us today may wear a name other than ER/PR HER2-Positive Invasive Ductile Carcinoma, but it is just as deadly. It’s not only an oppressive ex haunting my own little psyche, but our current President doing a serious number on our collective consciousness. This shit’s not just in me this time, but it’s in you, too. And it’s going to poison the world over if we don’t all stand up to stop it now.

One of my first thoughts on getting the diagnosis was, Did I bring this on myself? My ongoing attempt to answer that question without wallowing in self-loathing has brought me on the greatest journey of my life, towards healing. The same can be true for us as a country.

Yes, we brought this on ourselves. But we also have the means to fix it. We are all cause and cure both. Niit niit mooy garabam, the Wolof proverb goes. Other people are our own best medicine. We need to turn and face this ugliness together, give ourselves permission to speak out, and shout a resounding Fuck No as one. The disease may have found its way into US, but in no way is it a definitive reflection of who we are. Not if we refuse to play host to its toxic presence.

So how should we celebrate World Cancer Day? I’ve come up with a couple suggestions, based on personal experience:

1. Start by making yourself feel good and beautiful and strong.

2. Don’t be afraid to draw fire. Welcome discomfort. Actively displace yourself.

3. Coax this shared malignancy out into the open.

4. Take a good, hard look at it, understanding that it offers us the blessed gift of insight.

5. Figure out where it comes from, and how it managed to take root within us.

6. Spread beauty and love in abundance.

Writing was the tool that best fit my own hand, but everyone has a custom-made means of expression, an instrument perfectly suited to doing the patient work of parsing out what’s healthy in us from what is corrosive. My girls got a great kick out of the Turnip sign that recently sprang up just feet away from the spot on Main Street where an enormous Trump sign has for months been planted like a foreign flag, causing Brewster residents to wonder who we are as a community.

Me, I can’t wait to see what you all come up with.