#it turns out to be an old transformer who's been like dormant for years and his tender care wakes her up. sleeping beauty style.

[subsequentibis]

kicking my feet giggling plotting out a transformers au for john specifically

[esther-dot]

Beauty and the Beast

Tokens of Life (give me) 9k WIP by @ihaveastorminme

Jon thought of his mother's family often. But he never heard a whisper from them. Not once. Until the day the northern wind howled through the ancestral halls of the dragon Queens, bringing with it snow and wolves’ cries at its tail. Five hundred different deities in that hall, and nobody whispered when she walked in, tall and forbidding, the skirts of her dress swirling about her like mist and snow glittering unmelted in her flame hair. She looked at him... and everything changed.

No Rose Without a Thorn 24k

Ten years ago, the Others were defeated, the Starks took back the North, the Targaryens reclaimed the Iron Throne, and the Old Gods transformed Sansa Stark into a dread and dangerous beast. Now, winter is coming, the beast remains, and the family would really like Sansa to be a full time human again.

The Beast, the Beauty, and the Bastard 3k

It is a reworking of Disney's Beauty and the Beast, but with a bit of a twist. Hope you enjoy!

Certain As the Sun 22k, incomplete

Sansa is bright, beautiful, and out of place in her little town. After her father is captured in a forgotten castle, she moves to take his place with the cursed prince.

Gifset by @dcbicki and Gifset by @yenstarkofrivia

Rapunzel

From Tower to Tower 10k incomplete

Locked away in a tower for eighteen years by a witch claiming to be her Mother, long-haired Sansa seeks freedom and a chance to regain her crown as Princess of the kingdom. But the tower is high as she has no means to get down, aside from her incredibly long hair, and no guarantee of safety in the outside world she has been warned about. One night, when the witch is out, and a thief who climbs the tower seeking refuge happens upon her, she stuns herself by taking a chance and asking him to help her escape. Assuring him that she will have all charges against him dropped when he returns her to her rightful parents, she embarks on a series of first discoveries with her new bandit friend Jon.

I'll not be climbin' up, I'll only be calling good morning 13k @violetcoloredglasses

Princess Sansa, the rightful queen, has been trapped in a tower by her usurping step-mother for nigh on three years now. Between the benevolent interference of a local woods-witch, the seemingly random appearance of a dashing young man on a horse, and a magical book that Sansa uses to turn a man into a crow, she may have found a way to change her stars.

flower shaped heart 25k, incomplete @missfaber

Alayne Stone has lived her whole life in her hidden tower, forbidden by Mother to leave. But she yearns for an adventure like the ones in the songs, so when a man named Jon Snow crashes into her tower and into her life, she seizes the chance. They travel to King's Landing where the floating lanterns shine each year on her nameday. The new world is exciting and frightening, but Jon Snow is there to guide her every step. He is not nearly as terrible as Mother said men are, though the rest of the world might be. Danger, betrayals, and lies form the steps of their journey as Alayne uncovers terrible secrets. corresponding moodboard

Let Down Your Red Hair .6k

A Jonsa Rapunzel story told in verse. With her father beheaded and her brother marching against the king, the last thing Sansa expects is for her hair to never stop growing. She is soon locked away in the tallest tower of the Red Keep, withdrawn from court as the War of the Five Kings rages on. Elsewhere, rumors of her magical hair have spread to the Wildlings, who see her fiery strands as their last hope against the coming winter.

Tangled edit by @kitten1618x, Tangled edit by @queen-sans-in-the-north, Tangled edit by @sardoniyx

Tangled gifset by @dcbicki

Sleeping Beauty

La Belle au bois dormant 4k

When The North celebrates the birth of Lady Sansa, all the realm is invited to celebrate with them. Each Lady of a Great House bestows a gift upon the little lady, including Cersei Lannister, whose presence at the celebration is both unexpected and unnerving.

Once upon a Dream 1k by @azulaahai

Sansa is under a curse - fallen into a magical sleep, she, according to the prophecy, can only be awoken by a kiss from a dragon. Arya rides south to ask for help from the dragon king Aegon, but the king’s grumpy half brother Jon might prove to be an obstacle.

Visions are Seldom All They Seem 14k

Sansa Stark is sure her life is a great song. She's a beautiful princess. She's been cursed. And the only way it will be broken is to sleep for a hundred years and be awoken by true love's kiss, given by a king's son. She's more then happy to prick her finger if it means getting her happily ever after with a handsome prince all the sooner. But a hundred years is a long time. To be fair to Sansa, Jon did not realize how long it would be either.

Sleeping Beauty Gifset

East of the Sun and West of the Moon

you are my sun, my moon (and all of my stars) 133k

When the white wolf came, the Lord of Winterfell had no choice but to give him his eldest daughter. Eddard Stark had grown up on legends of wolves, on the stories of bargains made by the First Men, on the knowledge of the price that he and his family might one day be forced to pay.  His father had explained the reason their house had taken a wolf as its heraldry and “Winter is Coming” as its motto, a reminder of a promise to honor, a recognition of a debt owed that would need, one day, to be paid. Ned had breathed a sigh of relief when his sister’s twentieth winter arrived and the beast had not. And he had watched the dawn sky for the first signs of the snow that would mark that his daughter, too, might also be spared, might escape the fate that had been handed down by their ancestors. But no man could be so lucky.  Sansa, too, had been born with the North in her blood, had been raised on the stories of white wolves, had lived her life with the knowledge that one might come for her.

this is the map of my heart, the landscape after cruelty 22k by @dialux

“I fell,” Sansa says softly. “I flew.” [When a strange, hooded man appears out of nowhere, demanding a woman in return for keeping the Others and dead out of Westeros, Sansa goes with him. It’s the best and worst decision of her life.]

PRE CANON - WESTERN - REGENCY - LITTLE WOMEN - HOLIDAY - SEASON 6

[richincolor]

New Releases

We've got four new YA books on our radar this week! Check out what's on deck for launch this Tuesday:

The Lotus Flower Champion by Pintip Dunn and Love Dunn

It looks like paradise…only it’s not. This was supposed to be a once-in-a-lifetime family trip to Thailand. One last wish for my dying mama. Instead, we’re stranded on a lush, stunning island with ten strangers—held captive as Thai mythology unfolds around us…and within us.

Now we’re being tested. We’re expected to face our greatest fears—and possible deaths—in hopes of awakening some kind of dormant gift…or curse. One by one, we’re transforming, echoing the strange and sometimes wondrous abilities found in Thai folktales. But my mama has only days to live, my papa is missing, and I’m forced to trust a group of strangers…including our evasive, dark-eyed tour guide, who resembles a minor god. Toss me in the ocean and feed me to the naga now.

Only I’m no hero. My days are managed by numbers and the compulsions that used to keep me safe. I have to prove how far I can go. To survive. To protect my family. And to find a way off this perilous island where everything is a lie…including reality.

Carry My Secret to Your Grave (Murder, She Wrote #2) by Stephanie Kuehn

Small town murders. Big time thrills. The second installment in the suspenseful, modern update of the classic mystery TV series. Perfect for fans of One of Us Is Lying, Sadie, and Gossip Girl.

“Someone knows where you live. And whoever they are, they want you to know… you’re next.” Bea Fletcher never met a cold case she didn’t want to solve. So when she finds herself staying with family near Lake Paloma, she’s torn. Sure, she’s not thrilled to be bunking with her moody, taciturn uncle and his wife while her father’s out of town. Being away from Cabot Cove means less time for Bea to work on her true crime blog, visit her great-aunt Jessica, and spend time with new friends Leisl, Leif, and Carlos and the mysterious underground treasure hunting game they’ve been playing.

But Lake Paloma has mysteries of its own, including the unsolved drowning of teenaged Eden Vicente the year before. And when Bea starts to ask questions about Eden’s death, the answers lead her closer to home than she ever imagined. If Bea isn’t careful, she could be the next girl to end up at the bottom of the lake.

What the River Knows by Isabel Ibañez

Bolivian-Argentinian Inez Olivera belongs to the glittering upper society of nineteenth century Buenos Aires, and like the rest of the world, the town is steeped in old world magic that’s been largely left behind or forgotten. Inez has everything a girl might want, except for the one thing she yearns the most: her globetrotting parents—who frequently leave her behind.

When she receives word of their tragic deaths, Inez inherits their massive fortune and a mysterious guardian, an archeologist in partnership with his Egyptian brother-in-law. Yearning for answers, Inez sails to Cairo, bringing her sketch pads and an ancient golden ring her father sent to her for safekeeping before he died. But upon her arrival, the old world magic tethered to the ring pulls her down a path where she soon discovers there’s more to her parent’s disappearance than what her guardian led her to believe.

With her guardian’s infuriatingly handsome assistant thwarting her at every turn, Inez must rely on ancient magic to uncover the truth about her parent’s disappearance—or risk becoming a pawn in a larger game that will kill her.

The Space Between Here and Now by Sarah Suk

Seventeen-year-old Aimee Roh has Sensory Time Warp Syndrome, a rare condition that causes her to time travel to a moment in her life when she smells something linked to that memory. Her dad is convinced she’ll simply grow out of it if she tries hard enough, but Aimee’s fear of vanishing at random has kept her from living a normal life.

When Aimee disappears for nine hours into a memory of her estranged mom–a moment Aimee has never remembered before–she becomes distraught. Not only was this her longest disappearance yet, but the memory doesn’t match up with the story of how her mom left–at least, not the version she’s always heard from her dad.

Desperate for answers, Aimee travels to Korea, where she unravels the mystery of her memories, the truth about her mother, and the reason she keeps returning to certain moments in her life. Along the way, she realizes she’ll need to reconcile her past in order to save her present.

[mystictf]

Brewing Connections

Avengers x Reader (AU)

3k Words

Sitting in the warm glow of your favourite coffee shop, the aroma of freshly ground coffee beans fills the air, merging with the chattering crowd that surrounds you. It’s a familiar scene - one that has become a comforting part of your new life in New York. You glance out the window at the city bustling with life, skyscrapers piercing the sky, and pedestrians weaving through the streets, each with their own destination and story.

As you take a sip of your steaming hot chocolate, your thoughts drift back to your hometown, a place defined by its charm and simplicity. Memories of friends, laughter, and the comfort of known routines wash over you. You think of those late nights at the diner with Emily, the summer days spent by the lake, and the lazy weekends wandering through the park with your friends. You miss it, undeniably - the familiarity, the nostalgia - but that yearning is intertwined with something else: excitement. Change has been a whirlwind, propelling you into the vibrant pulse of the city, surrounded by the steadying presence of new and transformative. You reflect on how it felt standing in Millie’s Diner for the last time, clutching the hands of your friends as you prepared to say goodbye. It felt impossible then to envision your life outside the bubble you had inhabited for years. But here you are, thriving amidst the chaos, surrounded by people who embrace not just the beautiful moments but also the messy ones. Each interaction with your new friends - Natasha, Bucky, Steve, Clint, Sam, and Wanda - has helped bridge the gap between your old life and this new chapter, allowing you to explore not just a new city but parts of yourself that had remained dormant.

“Hey! You okay?” Natasha’s voice breaks your reverie as she slips into the seat across from you, her usual exuberance unmistakable. You nod, a smile spreading across your face. “Just reflecting on everything - hometown versus New York,” you say, gesturing to the bustling scene outside. “It’s hard to believe how much has changed in such a short time.” “Yeah, I get that.” Natasha takes a sip of her espresso, her expression turning thoughtful. “I remember feeling like I had to choose between my past and this new adventure. But really, it’s like we can carry a part of our past with us, even in a new place.” Her words resonate deeply. You recall the lingering fears that accompanied your move - the anxiety of starting over, of leaving friends behind, and the uncertainty that permeated your heart when you first set foot in the city. Yet, here you are, looking back with gratitude rather than regret.

“I think I was scared of losing my old self,” you admit, your voice quiet. “I didn’t know if I could make new memories that would mean as much as the ones I had.” “Change is scary, for sure.” Natasha leans in, earnestness shining in her eyes. “But look at what we’ve created here. You’ve built new friendships, found a place where you belong, and even started to open up to the idea of something more with Bucky.” She looks at you with a teasing smile, and you can’t help but blush. “Maybe,” you say, unable to hide your grin. “But even more than that - I feel like I’m discovering parts of myself I didn’t even know were there. You, Bucky, all of you… you’ve encouraged me to step out of my comfort zone.” Natasha raises her cup, a proud glimmer in her eyes. “Cheers to that! You’ve definitely found your way here, Y/N. I always knew you were strong. It just took you a little while to see it for yourself.” With her encouragement, you reflect deeper on how becoming part of this group has not only uplifted your spirits but has also emboldened you to embrace your passions and interests. Weekly pizza nights, impromptu adventures around the city, and quiet moments spent in cafes have all woven a new fabric of life - a tapestry of experiences that fill your heart with joy. “I guess what I’m trying to say,” you continue, “is that while leaving home was terrifying, I realise now it brought me something equally valuable: growth. I didn’t just go to a new city; I found new perspectives, new friends, and a sense of belonging that I didn't think I’d find again.” Natasha nods, her expression reflective. “Exactly! This city is a whole new playground, and you’re finding your footing. Just think of all the things we still have to explore.”

You glance around the cafe, the faces of your friends flashing through your mind - their laughter, their support, the lightness they bring to your life. In that moment, you recognise that New York isn’t just a temporary stop; it’s a canvas where you can paint the next chapter of your life with vibrant colours. As the sun begins to dip in the horizon, the golden rays spill through the windows, casting a warm glow inside the coffee shop. The lively chatter and laughter wrap around you like a comfortable blanket, deepening your sense of community. With Natasha’s words echoing in your heart, you understand that this city isn’t merely a backdrop to your story, but an integral part of who you are becoming. Feeling inspired, you look back at Natasha, a newfound determination stirring within you. “You know, I think part of embracing this change means really diving into it - pursuing what I’m passionate about. I’ve been so caught up in adapting that I haven’t even considered what I want to truly do here.” “That’s the spirit!” Natasha encourages, leaning forward in her seat. “What are you thinking? Want to try something artsy? Maybe start a blog about all the amazing food spots? Or an Instagram dedicated to your adventures?” You ponder her suggestions, feeling the excitement rise within you. “Maybe both! Food and adventure - combining the best of both worlds! I could share my experiences in the city and document all the incredible places we go as a group.” “Yes! That sounds amazing, and I’m in! I’ll help you take photos and write whatever you need,” Natasha replies, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. “This city is full of hidden gems waiting to be discovered, and I can’t think of anyone better to showcase them.”

The conversation flows easily between the two of you, a barrage of ideas painting a bright future filled with creativity and exploration. You both brainstorm concepts of your blog, narrowing down where to start, and ideas fly back and forth - pulling you deeper into the possibilities that lie ahead. Suddenly, you find your gaze drifting toward the window, where flurries of pedestrians rush by, and a hint of dusk settles into the streets. A sense of freedom envelops you as you consider all the paths before you. Every moment that shifted you from your hometown feels like a stepping stone toward this newfound purpose. “Whatever I choose to do, it’ll be infused with the spirit of both my hometown and New York,” you say, almost to yourself. “I want to honour where I came from while fully embracing where I am now.” “Exactly!” Natasha agrees, her voice impressively supportive. “You’re not leaving anything behind; you’re just expanding your horizons. And the beauty is, you still hold onto your roots even while you grow.”

A comfortable silence falls between you, filled with contentment and understanding. You realise how deeply Natasha’s friendship has impacted your transition, bridging not only your fears with adventure but also your identity with newfound perspectives. Your phone buzzes again - this time, it’s Bucky: Hey! Are we still on for pizza later? Steve’s convinced us to try that new place he heard about. You quickly type back: Yes! Can’t wait! Natasha and I were just talking about ways to dive into the New York adventure! As you send the message, a welcoming warmth spreads through you - Bucky, Steve, and the rest of your friends have woven themselves into the fabric of your life here, making it richer than you ever imagined. “Is that Bucky?” Natasha nudges, her expression playful. “Wait until he sees what you have planned. He’s going to love the idea of city food explorations.” “Yeah, he totally will!” You respond, feeling giddiness rise as the thought of sharing your newfound inspiration with him fills you with joy. After finishing your drinks and lingering over the vibrant conversations you’ve had, you and Natasha gather your things and step outside as the city glimmers around you. The chill of the evening air feels refreshing, awakening a new sense of purpose.

As you walk alongside Natasha toward your meeting point with Bucky and the crew, a different kind of clarity settles in. The transition has not only been about navigating a new city; it’s been about redefining who you are, embracing the beauty of change, and treasuring the relationships that have flourished amidst it all. “Thanks for being there, Natasha,” you say genuinely, your voice filled with gratitude. “You’ve made the adjustment easier, and I genuinely can’t wait for this next adventure.” “Always, Y/N,” she replied, her smile genuine. “We’re just getting started. There’s a whole world out there for us to tackle together.” And as the two of you walk into the bustling New York night, the street lights twinkling like stars, an exhilarating sense of hope fills your heart - a feeling that with change comes the promise of discovery, growth, and endless possibilities, both in this city and within yourself.

The night is crisp, with a soft glow from the street lights illuminating the sidewalk as you make your way to the pizzeria with Natasha and the rest of your friends. The excitement in the air is infectious; the chatter swells into laughter, a joyous undercurrent coursing through the group as you continue to connect with one another amidst the buzzing city life. As you approach the pizzeria, you catch a glimpse of Bucky standing outside, leaning against the wall with an easy smile and relaxed posture. His presence sends a familiar warmth spreading through you, and no matter how many times you’ve seen him since becoming friends, that flutter in your stomach feels new each time. “Hey, you made it!” Bucky greets as you reach him. With a friendly nudge, he says, “Are you ready for the best pizza in the city? Steve is already debating toppings with Clint, so let’s hope they don’t get into a full-on argument this time.” You laugh, stepping closer, feeling the excitement radiating from him. “It’s just pizza! But I’m sure it will be entertaining,” you answer playfully. As you all head inside, you feel a palpable sense of camaraderie among your group. The familiar sound of laughter, savoury smells wafting from the kitchen, and the warmth of friends create the perfect atmosphere. And yet beneath the banter and shared excitement, you sense a different kind of energy emanating from Bucky - a deeper feeling simmering just below the surface.

While everyone settles in at the table, you happen to catch Bucky’s gaze from across the table; it’s intense yet soft, filled with an emotion you’ve seen flicker in moments of vulnerability. The teasing jokes bounce around, but in the midst of the laughter, Bucky’s eyes remain focused on you, and your heart races as you wonder what he’s thinking. After the pizza order is placed, you and Bucky slip into a more quiet corner of the table, the noise of the restaurant fading slightly into the background. “So, how was your day?” He asks, leaning in slightly closer, a serious tone threading through his playful demeanour. “It was good! Just spent some time with Natasha discussing future blog ideas.” You smile, trying to keep the conversation light as you catch the warmth in his gaze. “What about you?” “Same old, you know. Just trying to figure things out,” Bucky replies, his fingers tracing patterns on the table’s edge - a gesture you recognise as a sign of his nerves. You sense the tension building, and suddenly that familiar warmth feels heavy with unvoiced emotion. “Bucky, is everything okay?” Your voice drops, softening as you notice the changes in his demeanour. There’s a pause, a moment where the silence stretches between you, and the bustling noise of the restaurant fades into the background. He takes a deep breath, looking down for a moment before meeting your gaze again, his expression earnest. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you. I’ve been thinking about it for a while now.” Your heart races, uncertainty blending with anticipation. “Okay,” you say gently, encouraging him to continue. “I… know we’ve become really good friends, and I cherish that. But I’ve realised that I feel something deeper for you. It’s not just friendship; it’s more than that.” Bucky's voice is steady, yet there’s a vulnerability to it, and you see the weight of his honesty settle over the table like a warm blanket. The air feels thick with emotion, and you search his eyes, trying to draw out your own feelings. Your heart swells as you contemplate the feelings you’ve tried to process in the wake of your friendship. What Bucky has said resonates deeply, and you can no longer ignore the truth that has been lingering just beneath the surface. “I feel it too, Bucky,” you admit, your voice low and earnest. “I’ve been hesitant to acknowledge it. Moving here was such a whirlwind, and I wasn’t sure how to navigate everything. But the more time I spend with you, the more I realise how special our connection truly is.” His expression shifts, relief and hope mingling in his eyes. “Really?” He leans forward slightly, an intensity in his gaze that sends butterflies racing through your stomach. You nod, feeling a sense of clarity as the words spill forth. “You make me feel safe, like I can be myself. I didn’t think I’d find that in New York, but here we are.” “Here we are,” he repeats, his smile widening, eyes gleaming as if a weight had been lifted. “I’ve struggled with my feelings, worried about scaring you away or messing things up. But I want to see where this goes if you’re open to it.” “Absolutely, I’m open to it,” you say, warmth flooding your chest as you realise this moment feels like the beginning of something beautiful. The butterflies in your stomach burst into a whirlwind of excitement mixed with warmth at the thought of exploring the potential of what you both share.

Bucky reaches across the table, his hand lightly grazing yours in a gesture that feels intimate yet natural. You can feel the gentle pulse of each other’s energy, grounding and reassuring. “I care about you, Y/N. I think we could be really good together,” he admits, his voice almost a whisper, underscored by a sincerity that makes your heart race. You glance around the table - Steve, Natasha, Clint and Wanda are animatedly discussing pizza toppings and the latest school gossip, oblivious to the quiet moment unfolding between you and Bucky. It offers a sense of privacy amidst the chaos, enveloping you both in a bubble of newfound understanding. Looking back into Bucky’s eyes, you see a mix of hope and a hint of vulnerability. “I’ve always admired your strength, especially how you’ve handled so many changes,” he says softly. “You’re fearless in a way I aspire to be. I’ve never met anyone quite like you.” His words linger in the air, wrapping around you like a warm embrace. A blush creeps up your cheeks, and you feel a smile spread across your lips. You lean closer, feeling the magnetic pull between you strengthen. “You know,” you begin playfully, “I may need you to show me a few of those strengths of yours. Like how to properly eat pizza without making a mess.” Bucky chuckles, the sound a mixture of relief and joy. “Consider it a date. Pizza lessons and all.” The banter flows easily, sealing the moment with laughter as you both fall deeper into the burgeoning connection. As more pizza arrives at the table, the lively atmosphere envelops you again. But this time, the tension has shifted; the unspoken words between you and Bucky have transformed into a warmth that enriches everything around you.

As the pizza slices are served, Clint loudly declares, “Alright, taste test time! Who’s bold enough to give us their official ranking?” The friendly chatter swells, bringing you back into the group’s fold. But even as conversations ripple and laughter fills the air, you find yourself continually stealing glances at Bucky, a sense of delight dancing in your chest. In those fleeting moments, you reflect on the journey that brought you here - the leap of faith in leaving your hometown, navigating the uncertainty of starting anew, and building friendships that have deepened incredibly over the past months. Each experience has shaped you, and now this new chapter - with Bucky right by your side - holds endless possibilities. “Ready for your first pizza lesson?” Bucky whispers, nudging you playfully as you return your focus to the table. You nod, already feeling anticipation brew within. “Absolutely!” You reply, diving into your slice as Bucky coaches you on the art of achieving that perfect New York fold. As his laughter echoes in your ears, you begin to realise how beautifully intertwined your past and present have become. Throughout the evening, the conversations rise and fall, like the rhythm of the city itself. You find your heart swelling with gratitude - not just for this moment, but for the journey that brought you together. There is a sense of certainty settling in, an understanding that what lies ahead is not merely an exploration of friendship or romance, but shared experience that reflects growth, vulnerability, and the beautiful complexity of human connection. As the night draws to a close and laughter dances in your heart, you step outside into the bustling New York streets, a coat of stars twinkling above. The thrill of excitement at the possibilities ahead fills you - and you know that with each changing season, you are not just adapting to a new life; you are embracing it fully, hand in hand with Bucky, ready to write the next chapter together.

[stardewnoodles]

Writer Redundancies (Nega Scott x Neil Nordegraf) - 1/?

It's not every day that the way to fix your writer's block surely descends not from the sky, but ascends from hell.

As usual, link above, I'd appreciate if you say if you like it or not, but if you prefer the tumblr format, here it is:

Until the 1950’s, film rolls mass produced and shown over the globe had a major risk of starting a fire big enough to burn down an entire theater. They had a dirty little chemical attached to it that helped make the film, called nitrate. At the time (Neil assumes), it probably wasn’t common knowledge how flammable nitrate was. Movies kept rolling and films kept burning. July 9, 1937 marks the day that 20th Century Fox’s vault of film rolls in New Jersey caught on fire from the nitrate from decay and higher than expected temperatures. This wasn’t the first, or the last, time something similar to this tragedy happened. However, Neil admits, there’s an awesome spectacle to a film shriveling in the heat. The picture’s color distorts first, followed by rapid deterioration. The picture turns to ash after numerous holes chew through a horrified director’s pride and joy. Then the whole roll combusts. This scene is distinctly familiar to Neil, who’s watched it happen every night since the day he turned 18 two years, three months, 1 day, and 7 hours ago. He hates remembering his birth date. The nightmare is predictable, because it always starts the same way, but it doesn’t make it any less gut-wrenching. A projector on a plastic table with one leg supported by a cut open tennis ball cuts to memories of times he could’ve earned the success and recognition he so desperately sought out, but fails to hit the mark and is instead seen as a lazy idiot. The youngest was his child prodigy days in middle school. The oldest, only two months ago. His script was a fake, his writing skills were fake, and his “prodigal talent” is in the gutter. Neil puts his head in his hands and rocks back and forth. Very rarely is the footage soothing. This sucks. 300 movies, 300 rolls of film Neil knows by heart. He wonders whether “Rushmore” or “Bottle Rocket” will blow up first; they’ve been the most dormant over the last 293 days. 

The floor is tiled the same way the psychiatry ward was, preferring the sloppy, bland white design with dots of random colors over something cool like the rugs of an arcade. The walls are orange for now, before they turn gray and black from the burn damage. Neil clutches his side. Neil hasn’t seen either of his parents since college started, and he intends to keep it that way after winter break. A locked black door he’s never been able to open sits behind him. It’s the only means of escape, despite it never opening. Freddy Krueger couldn’t make something this messed up in his own head. Neil tugs at his hospital gown and sighs. The Burning Room. It’s a fitting name Neil gave the endless nightmare for its atonement by fire. If he’s gotten this far in life while still being, as Scott says, “totally retarded and a bit of a bum”, then the next 20, 30, 40 years will be no different. No future awaits a person but the one they make for themselves? That’s terrifying. A single mistake or terrible argument burns the bridges that had been built for years. Neil can’t accept this. The door stays locked. The projector catches on fire first, an unexpected plot twist. A fond memory of his childhood–watching his father beat The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time –disintegrates. 

Being burnt alive doesn’t get old, like the stunning CGI of The Matrix . Neil scrambles back from the projector, wiping the sweat from his brows. One of the more eccentric patients took everyone by surprise when he raided the kitchen during Fried Chicken Friday and caught it on fire before he was restrained. The projector and the mountain high piles of film rolls explode at the same time into a wall of flames. The walls are marked black and thick smoke covers the room. Neil covers his mouth with the gown. Sweat drips down his neck. He squeezes his eyes shut and starts slamming his fist against the door. He doesn’t want to be here, he shouldn’t be here, but he did this to himself. The fire doesn’t haunt Neil because it was an over the top, insane experience that permanently scarred him. It haunts him because, in this dark, back alley of his mind, he wishes the on-site firefighters (who happened to be inspecting something completely different) hadn’t pulled him out of the fire. Ten months and nine days until he was released after that day, including the days in surgery. It launches Neil into a panic whenever he sees 109 across the street on a mailbox, on a baseball player’s back, anywhere where it could be lurking. Neil wonders if he ever truly left the flames calling to him in sonorous voices. He questions, as the flames rise and grab at his feet, if the Burning Room is meant to be his real home. 

Neil jumps at the banging coming from the other side of the black door. Unsure of what to do, Neil braces himself, falling back to the flames, the only familiarity now present, licking at his large burn mark underneath the gown. His right side is hot to the touch while he coughs uncontrollably from the amount of smoke building up in the room. The door’s sturdy hinges loosen with each loud thump. Neil ducks out of the way when the door is sent flying into the fire once the lock is broken. A darkness with no end lies beyond the open frame, along with a set of red eyes boring into his poor excuse of a soul. The shadows come alive. A figure walks into the Burning Room, dusting off his parka. The hair, the shirt, the look on his face, it’s unmistakable. 

"Scott?” Neil asks. The figure shakes his head. On second thought, it would make sense. When he grins at Neil, fangs protrude from his teeth. His gray shirt has the same heart and “SP” Scott had on his green one, but backwards. The parka hangs down to his thighs, with black jeans covering up the rest of his body. On his ears, two circular loops are pinched to the top of his ear, while a small button is lodged into the earlobe. A black collar with silver spikes is snug on his neck. His skin looks as if it has walked through smoke and ash hundreds of times over. The eyes scare Neil the most. There's evil lying behind them, a downward spiral of anger and hate. “Weird. You still look just like him.” Neil looks down to see that his hospital gown has caught on fire. “Oh. That sucks.” The supposedly-not-Scott rips the gown with a swipe of his claws and lets it fall, leaving Neil completely nude and at the mercy of the flames. He’s so confused by the presence of another person in his dreams that it doesn’t seem to bother him. Before Neil could say anything else, the imposter grabs his arm and leads him out of the Burning Room to the darkness. They walk for some time until Neil can’t smell the smoke. The place he was trapped in is now a mere speck of flickering light on the horizon, just like himself. Even though there’s no light, Neil can see the imposter without any problem. “Who are you?” Neil tries again. Still he gets no response. The shadow Scott crouches down and runs a finger against Neil’s burn mark. His skin, still hot, gets goosebumps from the ice-cold touch tracing up his right ankle, then his thigh, and then to his waist. It ends right above his waist with the poorly drawn “picture” of a mountain range. The weed he smokes every day helps block out the shame thrashing and burning in Neil’s head whenever the burn mark flares up. Meanwhile, the imposter’s touch numbs the pain, perhaps even soothing it.

“Does this mean we can make out?” “I don’t think your pillow gave its consent for that, Neil. Hey, Fruit Loops or Lucky Charms with a banana for breakfast? I’m going to the store today so we don’t have to sink as low as Scott did with his meals.” Stephen Stills is at the door to Neil’s room, doing his routine morning stretches. Thank god they don’t have to share a bed like Wallace and Scott; Neil is always thankful to Stephen for allowing him to crash at his lovely abode when he’s not at college. 

“Oh. I’m awake.” Neil stares at the ceiling, debating whether to hit a joint or not for the rest of the morning. “Lucky Charms.” “You got it, Neil.” Once Stephen knocks on the door and leaves, Neil closes the door to use the mirror attached to it. He lifts his shirt, examining the burn mark under it. When he touches it, it feels like snow has been rubbed against it. The cold touch is still there. Neil shivers. He rubs his burnt side. 

“Who are you?” Neil can’t decide whether the question is aimed at the Scott that is everything Scott isn’t or himself. 

[mitchellusa]

Mane has to be tame So get the right brand name

Are you looking like a person who just received an electric shock? Don’t be in shock when you look at yourself in the mirror! The dry, straw-like, frizzy hair is simply a product of negligence, heat treatments, harsh chemicals and cold winds depleting your hair of its moisture. You need to put the moisture back, take care with the right ingredients and cover your head whenever possible, to retain the natural, supple hair texture.

Frizz can Ease! Trust us.

If you run your hand through your mane and feel you are in a stack of hay, don't be disheartened. For with the right product mix you can reclaim your hair to a silky bunch of cascading mane in almost no time. And maybe it won't even feel damaged to begin with! So, let's get to know the products and beat the frizz head on.

Where less is MORE! Sacred Lotus secret is much more.

In a UCLA study conducted by plant physiologist Jane Shen-Miller, an ancient Lotus seed germinated after lying dormant for over 1,200 years.

So what is the miracle ingredient in there? After further analysis, the scientists discovered a protein repair enzyme called L- isoaspartyl methyltransferase (MT) in it. Damaged proteins did not accumulate within these ancient sacred lotus seeds, suggesting that MT enzyme, which was still present at normal levels, helped the ancient seeds defy aging for over 1000 years.

When dermatologists tested an extract of the Sacred Lotus seed in skin care formula, the protein repair enzyme, with a rich blend of antioxidants, it had an amazing anti-aging effect on the skin and hair. Thus germinated the idea of AGE-LESS. The crux being just like the 1288-year-old sacred lotus, anyone can rise from the mud, bloom out of darkness and radiate into the world. Though created in the USA, the Mitchell’s Age-Less range has been rediscovered and redesigned for the Indian skin.

Defy the cold with the armour of AGE-LESS

Come to the world of AGE-LESS Hair Care and see your hair transform from rough to nourished. AGE-LESS Day Hair Tonic Shaft Vitalization provides follicle vitalization and protection from the sun and cold weather with SPF. Babasu, Wheatgerm, Argan, Coconut and Olive oil provides non-sticky nourishment. Keeps hair moisturised and smooth all day. Apply liberally on complete lengths of hair before grooming or styling hair and see those mane of yours turn tamed.

AGE-LESS Night Hair Tonic Scalp Nourishment rejuvenates hair follicles and controls hair aging as you sleep. Calendula, Pea Sprout and Grape extract helps nourish, energize and reduce hair fall in aging hair. Apply liberally and massage on a clean scalp at night, to experience the change the following day.

First Time: Anti-Aging Hair Wash Regimen Experience the magic of AGE-LESS Pre-Shampoo Mask + Antioxidant Shampoo. Hair strands become smaller and have less pigment as we age. So the thick, coarse hair of a young adult eventually becomes thin, fine and light-coloured. Then the onslaught of hair colour, pollution, poor lifestyle, etc. leads hair follicles to stop producing new hair and visible balding sets in. Our first-of-a-kind Anti-aging Hair Wash Regimen with Baobab and Pea Protein slows down hair loss, provides nourishment, maintains lipid balance and controls hair aging. Spread well on hair and scalp, massage for 5 minutes and rinse off with water. Then apply the Antioxidant shampoo, massage well and wash off.

So, ask some hair raising questions and get the correct products to answer! Equipped with a hair care regimen to battle all woes, here’s your way out to let your hair down.

[mxb3jokes]

Cinderella was now old, and was granted 3 wishes by the Fairy Godmother

After a fulfilling life with the now dead prince…

… Cinderella happily sits upon her rocking chair, watching the world go by from her front porch, with a cat named Bob for companionship.

One sunny afternoon out of nowhere, appeared the fairy godmother.

Cinderella said, “Fairy Godmother, what are you doing here after all these years?”

The fairy godmother replied, “Cinderella, you have lived an exemplary life since I last saw you. Is there anything for which your heart still yearns?”

Cinderella was taken aback, overjoyed, and after some thoughtful consideration, she uttered her first wish:

“The prince was wonderful, but not much of an investor. I’m living hand to mouth on my disability cheques, and I wish I were wealthy beyond comprehension.”

Instantly her rocking chair turned into solid gold.

Cinderella said, “Ooh, thank you, Fairy Godmother.”

The fairy godmother replied, “It is the least that I can do. What do you want for your second wish?”

Cinderella looked down at her frail body, and said, “I wish I were young and full of the beauty and youth I once had.”

At once, her wish became reality, and her beautiful young visage returned.

Cinderella felt stirrings inside of her that had been dormant for years.

And then the fairy godmother spoke once more: “You have one more wish; what shall it be?”

Cinderella looks over to the frightened cat in the corner and says, “I wish for you to transform Bob, my old cat, into a kind and handsome young man.”

Magically, Bob suddenly underwent so fundamental a change in his biological make-up that, when he stood before her, he was a man so beautiful the likes of him neither she nor the world had ever seen.

The fairy godmother said, “Congratulations, Cinderella, enjoy your new life.”

With a blazing shock of bright blue electricity, the fairy godmother was gone as suddenly as she appeared.

For a few eerie moments, Bob and Cinderella looked into each other’s eyes.

Cinderella sat, breathless, gazing at the most beautiful, stunningly perfect man she had ever seen.

Then Bob walked over to Cinderella, who sat transfixed in her rocking chair. He held her close in his young muscular arms.

He leaned in close, blowing her golden hair with his warm breath as he whispered…

“I bet now you’re sorry you had me castrated!”

[foone]

OK so you know what's a good horror trope? The reveal of the previously invisible/camouflaged interloper. We've all got this instinct from back when we were little mammals living in a jungle full of tigers, where being watched is a bad thing. We want to know who can see us, because they might be seeing us and planning to pounce. So the idea that someone has secretly been watching us and we never knew? Obviously scary, in a very primal way.

There's plenty of examples. Most "Invisible Guy" movies, that clothesline scene from The Conjuring, the pool monster from Are You Afraid of the Dark becoming visible when they dump dye in the pool... But I'm gonna give a detailed example from the most unlikely of horror sources... Star Trek: The Next Generation!

So in season 4, the episode Identity Crisis focuses on Geordi. He meets up with an old friend, who he had served with on another ship, prior to coming to the Enterprise. She, Geordi, and three other people had gone on a mission to investigate a spooky colony where everyone had disappeared. They found nothing, and returned with no answers.

But now, many years later, it's getting weirder. Two of the other guys have apparently gone mad and fled back to the Spooky Colony, and the episode opens with the third guy dying on his way to the Spooky Colony. Everyone else on the mission to the Spooky Colony those years ago has either returned & vanished, or died trying to. So it's not looking good for Geordi and his friend, Leijten. They do some investigating, don't find much, and Leijten starts falling ill. She's in sick bay, apparently turning into an alien, and Geordi decides to go visit the video footage of that mission they went on all these years ago (since it's the future, this is fancy 3D video that he's looking at in a fully immersice holodeck environment).

He's watching it, and sees nothing weird. Except at the last moment, when they go to turn off the camera, there's a shadow. An odd shadow. He asks the computer to alter the footage, deleting characters and their shadows from the video, and one by one the shadows vanish... Except this one. He asks the computer to assume it's being cast by a person about his size, and where would that person be if it was?

And a humanoid figure appears into the footage.

Someone had been standing there along with those 5 visible people, all those years ago. They were being watched. And they never knew.

And this is just one of my favorite spooks! It's such a good innate fear. Something is there and it can see you but you can't see it.

(As for the episode? Geordi has been feeling sicker and sicker the whole time he's doing this footage investigation. He ends up turning invisible and running out, and transporting himself down to the planet. We see as he transports that he's turned all blue and translucent. Down on the planet, Leijten beams down, feeling better. Dr. Crusher cured her parasite. Apparently this planet is full of some kind of microorganism that infects you, lays dormant for years, then makes you come back and turn into a spooky invisible guy. That's what happened to their crewmates, that's what happened to the whole colony, and it's happening to Geordi. She's able to talk him down, since he's only recently transformed and she knows what it's like, and he's cured. Everyone else, the colony and the former crewmates? They're gone for good. They're not human anymore, and haven't been for a long time.)

[a-flaming-idiot]

Ok so I’ve been thinking about a BNA Swap AU a lot recently(Clearly). So I thought I might as well put my rough take on the swap characters out there.

Michiru <--> Shirou

Shirou: He’s a stubborn, grumpy little seventeen year old high school boy. He dropped out after suddenly transforming from human into a wolf beastman and is now traveling to Anima City in hopes of finding Barbara Rose after he lost contact with her after she left on a research trip. He travels with Kuro who constantly pokes and bothers him in a very Hunter and Flapjack from The Owl House way. 

Even though he acts like he knows everything and can’t be wrong he has a habit of getting in over his head, needing Michiru to save him. He also is stubborn as hell and has no ability to admit when he’s wrong or that he can’t solo the world. He’s a little piss-boy but that’s why Michiru loves him.

Unknown to Shirou he is actually a sort of reincarnation of Ginrou. The previous Silver Wolf was killed and to keep his power out of people’s hands it hid itself away as it passed on to a child. It remained dormant and hid Shirou’s beastman traits till both were finally awakened by his worry for Barbara.

Michiru: She’s a bubbly, free spirited, kind beastman social worker in her mid to late thirties. Though her kindness masks a tendency to cold rage and hatred mixed will ruthless efficiency when provoked. Along with Michiru’s own traumas from her past she disguises with her outward appearance. 

She ends up helping Shirou after finding him in Anima City after fighting the terrorists and decides to find him a place to stay at the Co-Op. Especially since she has silently taken up the roll of Anima City’s protector after the death of the Silver Wolf. After spending time in the Co-Op, Michiru and Shirou form a more familial relationship a lot like canon, just with the roles reversed.

In the past through a series of bad events Michiru is hesitant to disclose, she ended up orphaned and alone in Anima City in her early teen years. Till she eventually met an older wolf beastman who was willing to help her. As it turned out this was the original Silver Wolf. The pair grew closer through the years, forming a very father-daughter relationship. Unfortunately through still mysterious events, Ginrou was killed while saving Michiru in her early twenties, an event she partially blames on both Nazuna and Alan.

Pinga <--> Alan

Alan: A suave, put together beastman agent masquerading as a human while charged with investigating the strange happenings going on in Anima City. Specifically after he discovers information about the living Silver Wolf. Michiru hates him since she partially blames him for Ginrou’s death. Though he’s not evil he understands to keep his distance from her since he does see he did play a part in her father figure’s death. Still he tries to continue his work which may include some less than savory choices to get his information and objectives. (A bit of a secret agent type)

Pinga: A war hero who after he encountered Ginrou on the battlefield made it his life’s mission to find him again. He seems to have lost it a bit to his obsession with finding the Silver Wolf. Now he uses his fame to attempt to manipulate people to help him find Ginrou. He completely denies any information pointing to Ginrou’s death. 

He specifically took advantage of Barbara Rose to help him research more about the Silver Wolf in hopes of finding where he now hides. He uses her due to her fantastic skills of reasoning and research that has helped Pinga make more progress recently than he has in the last seventeen years. 

Rose -> Nazuna -> Marie -> Nina -> Rose

Barbara Rose: Barbara is a wide-eyed, seventeen year old, nerdy beastman girl. She often is so lost in her own world that sometimes she doesn’t realize how much of a social outcast she has become. Her closest friend is Shirou Ogami who has become rather protective of her because of her social status.

She has recently left on a research trip that she hasn’t returned from in over a year. Specifically the trip lead by Pinga. This was all under the promise that if they do find proof of The Silver Wolf’s existence than she can take full credit and gain all the praise and fame that she truly deserves. At the cost of people like her friend Shirou, who Pinga assures will only hold her back from making the discovery of her life. 

Nazuna: A beastman con-artist who hides her true intentions behind a coy and playful façade. She has a habit of constantly eating hard candy as a continued part of her less threatening presentation as she pulls her schemes on others in and around Anima City.

In the past she was close with and dating Michiru but after a series of events she became estranged from Michiru. Specifically because Michiru silently places some blame on Nazuna for the death of Ginrou. Because of the mental toll that event played, Nazuna had to give up on her dream of hitting it big in the music and performance industry, leading her down the road that eventually led her to work in the Anima City underworld. 

She truly does feel awful for what happened and wants to fix it but knows there’s not much she can do to heal Michiru’s broken heart. She ends up falling into a sort of mentor relationship with Marie as the young mink tries to forcefully create a place for herself in the world.

Marie: She’s a spunky, aggressive, barely fourteen year old mink who comes from a rich, influential family. But because of the stuffy lifestyle Marie wants to escape her family’s shadow and carve her own place in the world. Specifically she wears cheap sunglasses and tries to wear rougher, more middle or lower class clothes to force more visual separation form her family. Or at least what she believes them to be. Winds up with a little bit of a rivalry with Shirou just because of their shared spunky crossed with hardheaded personalities. 

Marie ends up meeting Nazuna who takes the mink under her wing to help her find her place in the world. A place Nazuna was never able to find herself. 

Nina: Nina comes from a crime family that has plagued Anima City for years. But after all the damage her family has caused, Nina has chosen to instead actively help the city as Anima City’s mayor. Unfortunately she is a little over her head. Often she acts a little frantic and in lost fighting to keep the city running while keeping a sweet, happy face to the public. 

She is helped along a bit by Michiru who often comes around to act as somewhat of an advisor. The two have known each other since Michiru ended up in the city alone before meeting Ginrou. Michiru herself respects Nina’s attempts to right both her own, and her families wrongs and tries to support her in that effort. 

[m0r1bund]

[Image: A sketch page of some sort of space marine lookin’ gal gone monster. She’s top-heavy with big ‘ol claws, like a werewolf, but if a werewolf had her face fused with a gas mask and a bunch of cybernetics. frayed wires and tubes dangle from her head, neck, spine, and ribs, forming a motile mane. In one drawing she wears a duster full of bulletholes that’s a few sizes too short for her, brandishing an oversized pistol with a blade attached to it.

Accompanying her is a research assistant who looks friendly enough, if a bit in over her head. She’s tall, lightly armored, and wears her hair up in a wavy ponytail. She seems to be much more ‘analog’ than her cohort, wearing glasses and a relatively simple prosthetic leg.

In another drawing, the R.A. holds her hat over her head, shielding herself from the rain. She shares a moment with the soldier, apparently before her transformation;

R.A.: God I miss my mom. You ever miss your folks, chief?

Chief: I was grown in a vat. ]

◆

*plastering my deranged little drawings on the wall* I Can Explain.

So a ~week ago, I had a dream about this Warhammer 40k-ass space marine who saves the life of a scrawny little research assistant, but pays the ultimate price and gets infected with the Diseases and the Sicknesses, which turn her into a shambling biomechanical monster. But the two of them are in love! And they are saved through the power of love, and also the power of dodging the draft.  

Somehow, this activated the part of my brain that has lain dormant since I was like 9 years old, when I’d use my brother’s copy of WH40k: Dawn of War to act out trilogy-length adventure stories. I’ve been thinking a Normal Amount about these two women and drawing shitty little comics ever since.

◆

I guess since this is the first doodle in the batch it would be good to introduce these two.

The Chief is like… She’s exactly what you’d expect from someone who has been groomed from birth to be a living weapon for an imperial regime. She has a lot of deprogramming to do. But she’s remarkably agreeable and even pretty well-intentioned, if you can get past the gruff exterior and the bonkers yonkers internal moral code that was drilled into her. Really, you get the sense that something in her is pushing back against all this, despite every effort to wire her otherwise…

The R.A. comes from a podunk little desert planet. Its people are so “backwards” and “uncivilized,” the land so “hostile,” that the extent of their relationship with the Empire is a yearly tithe that they forget to collect most years. This is, of course, code for “people who live in a desert in a non-sessile way that doesn’t align with settler expectations, and as fortune would have it, they’re spared the strife of ‘civilization’ in their invisibility and the perceived uselessness of their lands.”

The rest of the deployment considers her a luddite from a backwater shithole. She’s fine with this. In reality, she’s a polymath at heart, and is a talented mechanic, engineer, and general techie. She just happens to know enough about the Empire that she does Not want their technology anywhere near her body, thank you! Sometimes she feels like the only one in the universe who has gone outside and touched grass, and it’s driving her banana sandwich. But she’s not about to tell the shambling instruments of war called her coworkers that there’s, like, actual plants and stuff back home. That would be bad.

Well, maybe she’d tell one person. But only if she asks really really nicely.

[iesnoth]

Rating Redheads #3: Meilin Lee

Meilin Lee of Turning Red is such an interesting case because she's a rare instance (in film) of the magic of a redhead being tied to their character identity and arc. But how does it fare for representation?

(No spoilers except what's in the trailers.)

Meilin (or Mei) is a Chinese-Canadian 13-year-old girl in 2002. She is in a close but domineering relationship with her mother, Ming, and as she enters puberty she begins to rankle under her mother's helicopter parenting. Their relationship comes to a head when the family gift/curse falls on Mei, turning her into a red panda whenever she gets emotional. This transformation permanently turns her black hair red.

As stated, Mei's hair color is an odd case, but does that mean she's a "bad" ginger?

1) Accuracy to the redhead experience: 2/5 Not to diminish the existence of red-headed Asians-- redheads of every race are valid and valuable-- but the way Turning Red goes about showing it is, obviously, unrealistic. In real life, red hair is a recessive gene that can lay dormant for generations: in the film, Mei comes from a long line of Chinese ancestors, and the red hair comes from a magical gift. As far as Mei's daily life, she has the unique experience of waking up one day to be surprised with red hair, which would be wild (to wake up with an unwitting color change of any kind). Mei's friends are 100% on board with the new hair, and no one makes fun of her for it. A common experience for many redheads is being bullied, and since Mei has her own bully in the movie, it's weird he doesn't comment on it. I have nothing against the film for its many different representations, but for the purpose of this rating, having magic red hair isn't realistic.

2) How Mei's gingerness is used: 5/5 This whole film is about Mei being a redhead in some respect, whether in human form or panda. But why a red panda? Well, according to Embracing the Panda, the documentary about the film, the director Domee Shi liked the look of red pandas and went from there. But of course, there's a lot more to it than that.First, and the age-old staple on this blog: Mei is an outsider, and red hair is the telltale sign of the Other. Though, unlike other characters, Mei doesn't start out an outsider. She has a friend group, she's active in school, connected with her family. But the red hair, when it arrives, separates her from all that. When the panda appears, Mei hides from her friends, keeps secrets from her parents, and doesn't attend school for a while. Mei's red hair is a catalyst for change in her life. Red hair is also a symbol of puberty in the film: to be specific, female puberty. Pads and symptoms of the menstrual cycle are referenced throughout the film. Mei's initial horror and embarrassment of the panda and her red hair mirror how female puberty has been made taboo by society. But puberty/the panda isn't the first time red is associated with Mei's character. Like many films, the characters are color-coded, and you can tell their personality or relationship to other characters by their color. Mei's color is red from the beginning, with some blue thrown in, possibly to connect her to her mother, who contrasts Mei's red tones with cool greens and blues. Finally, red the color has cultural significance. Not only is the red panda native to China, but red is considered a lucky color, and is prominent in their architecture, celebrations, and fashion. I really enjoyed how much thought went into the themes of this film, and how the panda/ gingerness factored into that.

3) Stereotypes used:0 (Mild spoilers) One could make the argument for the "Special" stereotype, but I'm not including it because Mei isn't the only redhead in the film with panda powers. This film could have easily made Mei a Special, or a Nerd, but instead they made her a normal, weird girl, which works best for a film normalizing being weird.

Final score: 7/10

Though Meilin isn't a "realistic" redhead, the director used her red hair in innovative and respectful ways, which I think will positively impact real redheads.

[thanekrios]

A desert of his own

Summary: Shepard dreams of a dead planet. Irikah tells Kolyat a myth of creation. And Thane sees a desert.

Note: I wrote this many years ago. Posted it here when I was galifreyas, so the original post is lost. This is still up @ my much abandoned AO3.

Let us start with a planet that has been dead for centuries. Let us tell some fictions and some realities about it. It is up to you to believe which ones are true.

What about a woman who dreams of the deserts of Rakhana? Deserts carpeted with purple weeds that are inhabited by silvery lizards she has named the afa’el. In her dreams, the afa’el sing – no, that’s not what they do, the old melodies once sung by burning stars echo in them. Sometimes it sounds like they are humming and others, they appear to be reproducing three songs at once. She watches the ira, cactus-like succulents, glowing in announcement of the dawn of a new season as the cavernous voices of an ancient creature or a sinking sun make their way across the planet, from afa’el to afa’el and finally they reach her. She hears and understands their wordless mellow stories.

They tell her of the Endu, the biggest flower to ever exist in any world, which according to legend had bloomed in an unforgiving desert and was encountered by a group of nomads who sought it as a symbol of Arashu and built the biggest civilization around it.

She learns of how Rakhana came to be. How it was once a frozen egg, drifting away in the Sea of Stars, and how a maiden made of gold nourished it back to life.

The woman, whose name is Shepard, visits the great desert of Alasere religiously. She enjoys standing there, sinking her feet in a golden ocean, listening to the afa’el murmur words in Rakhani long forgotten.

She learns of fihanda, which roughly translates to the guilt a child feels when they recognize dishonesty in their parents or in an older authority figure. There is amuefto, the gift of finding beauty in a person and seeing it reflected in their faces, regardless of their looks. Taverena, an expression of gratitude only used when someone has made a true impact one’s life, making it out of the ordinary. And then, tah-sehe.

“I will miss you, Shepard. Tah-sehe,” had been the last thing she heard from Thane’s lips before he left the Normandy. For a while, she whispered tah-sehe to herself while embracing the mundane. It would fill the room in the form of a silly melody muttered while she watched the rain pour; or as a gurgling sound while she took a shower. It was imprinted on her mind. It isn’t until the afa’el sing morosely about the last chapter in their planet’s history, that she discovers tah-sehe is not a word to be said lightly.

She comes to understand why Thane, who turns the simplest of sentences into splendid verses, had felt it necessary to utter that word – because I will miss you was but a fragment of what he wished to convey. Tah-sehe meant more than to miss someone; it was a profound emotional state of infinite yearning, of not being able to experience life to the fullest, of having lost the most significant part of oneself. The concept originated during the great exodus of the 1980s, as the first generations of drell settled in Kahje carried the name of the tah’sehen, the ones who dwell in what’s lost.

It didn’t matter whether those were dreams weaved by longing. Tah’sehe migrated from her head to her heart.

During the days, as the Vancouver rain attempts to wash away her dreams, she convinces herself that if she can capture at least a fraction of the beauty of the deserts she wanders in and if she can translate it into a form, any form, the dormant planet of Rakhana will be awaken.

For a while, Shepard considers writing about every beast, plant and insect she has come across in her journeys but she has never been one to confuse her desires with her abilities. Writing, just like dancing, does not come naturally to her. And while she is a gifted saxophone player, she was never much of a composer. Yet, she tries.

Thane had caught her once practicing one of her unpolished pieces, one she referred to as “if calluses were a song, this would be it.” He had asked her to play it for him. She knew he’d listen, he’d truly listen, and not just that…he’d remember.

“Ugliness is abundant in this galaxy. Let’s not add up to it.” She said, putting down her sax.

“When you play, I hear a reminder of beauty and laughter and life. What you do is extraordinary, siha. To transform the dreadful slices of the universe, its eruptions and its vast darkness into a stream of ecstatic sounds, a blast of playful rhythms. You create things when there is but destruction around you. There is value in that. I hope you see it someday.”

Encouraged by his words, she composes a few songs that don’t come to even faintly remind her of the fierce and dry winds scattered across the planet. She can’t feel its vibrant colors in her slow and melancholic tunes, as they are permeated by the city she sees through her window and a sky that won’t stop weeping.

That is when she starts making terrariums resembling the deserts she visits. She thinks, if she is ever lucky enough to see Thane again, she’ll hand him a desert of his own. She can still hear him:

“I would much like to see a desert.”

* * *

After Kolyat leaves Huerta Memorial, so does Thane. He sees him walk away in a pristine white hallway and at the same time, a young Kolyat attempts to step on his father’s footprints. He can smell salt and iron and antiseptics and detergent, and hear machines beeping and waves crashing. Kolyat is saying something, he wants to be heard, but what might have been the most important words ever spoken are drowned by the roaring of the sea. He just stares at him and waits for his father to react and after a pause, disappointment is written all over his face. Thane asks him to hurry up and a young Kolyat walks reluctantly towards him, this time ignoring the trail of footprints left by his father.

He wishes his recollections were malleable, he often hears of humans enriching their past with fictions; or of conflicts among them springing from a poor recollection of events. But a drell’s memories are unforgiving –they can, on occasion, overlap with reality–but never be rewritten.

His mind takes him to that same evening, after Kolyat asked him to dance with him but he refused, as he was getting ready to go to work. He doesn’t see blighted hope but despondency in his child. Kolyat still wishes him a pleasant journey, as he always does, and runs to his room. He should have kissed his forehead. He should have made him feel like he was the brightest sun in the Zahel Sea cluster, the most vital spring of energy in his life.

As he is lacing up his shoes, he hears Irikah’s voice. Whenever she puts Kolyat to bed, her voice is soft and gentle. Like most nights, she is telling him a story. Irikah was always the better storyteller. Irikah was always the better everything.

“Now as everybody knows, the Land of Whistling Dunes was the child of a maiden made of gold, whose heart’s one desire was to drink from the Sea of Stars” says Irikah.

“The Milky Way” Kolyat mouths the words as his mother speaks them.

Irikah nods gently before continuing her story:

“The maiden, who shoned in silence in the skies, knew her womb was barren for a blazing flame lived inside of her. She watched the ages pass and her younger sisters descend to the Sea and drink from its starry tides; and one by one, they all bore and gave birth to the Sea’s children. And as eons passed, the children danced around their mothers; and the mothers swayed gently in the Sea.

The maiden, lonely and scorching, continued to long for the Sea’s kiss, until the day all eyes turned to the death of her older sister, whose cries of pain were carried by the waves, scattering them across the galaxy. And with her passing, her children came to perish too. It was then the maiden dove into the Sea of Stars and gulped its darkness greedily, for she desired children of her own.

The waves whipped her mercilessly as punishment for her insolence, tearing her flesh open. But the maiden didn’t yield; she drank until no more fire dripped from her mouth, she drank until the tides had dragged her sisters and nieces and she had swallowed them whole, she drank until the radiant sea was almost pitch-black.”

Irikah pauses. Something is happening.

Thane hears a gasp that doesn’t fit in their house, it doesn’t belong in the past. A horrified gasp. He recognizes the padding of shoe soles brushing against the floor and the sharp rhythmic piercing sounds of heels. There are many of them. Nurses, patients, visitors, doctors. They’re gathering near him. A man raises his voice, demanding everyone to be quiet. Another voice protests, only to be followed by Doctor Michel shushing the crowd and asking someone to turn down their hand terminal’s sound, so everyone can listen to the same thing.

Then, Irikah’s narration comes to him in long, heavy echoes.

He wants to be home as much as he wants to discover what is happening around his body. He can feel reality piercing its way through, the white pristine light of Huerta Memorial filtering through a crack in the wall he always meant to fix. Another voice slides in, distant and resonant, and he can’t make out what it says. He ignores it. He needs to hear the end of Irikah’s tale. That memory must remain unspoiled, uninterrupted. It’s the last story he ever hears her tell.

He hangs onto it; everything else must wait just a little longer.

“The Sea, heartbroken after witnessing the death of so many of his kin, felt conflicted as he desired retribution but didn’t wish to feel emptiness any further. He then presented the maiden with a choice: he would spare her life if she looked after an egg that had lost its guardian centuries ago; and if she was able to give life to a daughter who existed suspended in a shell of ice and yearned to see the light, her crimes would be forgiven. As the maiden accepted his offer, the pale egg rose up out of the sea. She held it tight, keeping it warm until the day it hatched and came to love it. And so, a winged silvery lizard was born. Her name was Rakhana.”

“Reports are coming in from the cities of London, Seoul and Vancouv—“

She is almost done. Let her finish.

“It’s said that Rakhana’s mother could not stand her daughter flying far away from her, for she was terrified that her only companion would abandon her. So Rakhana, who very much loved her mother and wished to make her proud, danced near her despite the sultriness she felt around her. Eventually, her entire body blushed with red desert flowers and her skin blistered and turned hot and dry. The lizard curled up and fell into a deep slumber as her skin turned to soil; and her breath became wind; and from her backbone a mountain range was born; and while she gave life to many, she failed to save them from the maiden’s fire. And so, Rakhana’s body continued dancing around her mother and her mother swayed gen...”

He sees a large group of people gathered a few feet away from where he is sitting. It takes him a moment to put together the pieces of the situation, of what it is being broadcasted through every terminal, of why Doctor Michel is shaking while she buries her face in her hands.

A myth of creation is replaced by news of destruction.

* * *

Thane always enjoyed looking at her fish. Once more, he sees them travel with glee from one side of the tank to the other. He used to feed them whenever she forgot, which was more often than she would care to admit. Half a lifetime ago.

He presses one of his fingertips against the fish tank’s glass and draws small invisible circles. A Thessian Sunfish follows his finger, even when he begins to trace unpredictable shapes. Shepard can’t see his face but she likes to think he’s grinning, greeting his old friends.

From all the stories and words that spun inside her head, tah-sehe is the only one she has felt pounding violently inside her. She wonders, even if she doesn’t know its true meaning, if perhaps there’s a word that encases an opposite feeling, the sensation of her chest being cluttered with emotions; and the impulse she is struggling to oppress, of talking about everything at once, the things she has seen and done and felt. And on the same time, she doesn’t want to talk at all, she wants to reach out and touch and caress and experience.

So, she asks.

“Is there a word in Rakhani for…this? Say…what you feel when you are reunited with someone? Like you with the fish right now.”

Thane turns around slowly; his hands are behind his back. The hint of a smile turns the corners of his mouth.

“I believe the closest word is sehifa. Even though I wouldn’t use it to describe my reunion with the fish. Is there a similar word in human language?”

“I don’t know if there’s a word for it in one of the human languages, but there isn’t one in English. At least the translator didn’t find an equivalent.”

“Ah. I see. Sehifa is a hard concept to condense into a single word. Perhaps it can be defined as the dusk of missing someone. Although it means more than that. It also refers to what you feel and what you do when you are reunited. The emotional closeness that is rekindled. Perhaps even physical intimacy. The warmth you feel in your chest. And what is exchanged. A memento or a present perhaps. Even the stories that your loved one wished to tell you for a long time, when they are finally said out loud and heard by the person who was meant to hear them. How each action or touch is meaningful.”

The dusk of missing someone. That’s it. That’s what it is.

Her cheeks feel warm and her heart full. She smiles the brightest of smiles and starts to laugh. It is a deep, explosive burst of laughter. The sort that seems to pour out like liquid gold to illuminate an entire room.

When Shepard runs out of laughter, she holds his gaze:

“I have something for you. A memento or a present or something of sorts.” She disappears for a couple of seconds and emerges from the bathroom holding something round made of crystal, around the same size as a fishbowl. “Remember what you told me? About creating? It’s funny. All this time I believed all I could ever make were bad songs. But in truth, there were worlds I could create. I can’t really share them with you, not with words at least, so I made a thing. It’s not really finished and it’s not as pretty as what it looked in my dreams but reality rarely pairs up with your expectations, right? I wanted to work on it for a while longer but, after what you just said, I just can’t wait anymore. Here.”

She shakes her head and hands it to him.

Thane holds it up.

It’s a terrarium.

She had created a harmonic ecosystem, filled with lively-colored succulents and cacti, each of them she handpicked herself to resemble the desert of Alasere. She knows that Rakhana will remain arid and dormant; and the worlds that live inside of her aren’t supposed to be more than just dreams. Yet, somehow, Thane is holding a slice of one of them between his hands. One of the things he wished he could see with his own eyes has come to him. In a way, a dream they dreamt of together became real.

He puts the terrarium down with care, next to her terminal, and he reaches over and cups her cheeks with both hands. He calls her by her first name, as he rarely does. He leans down and presses his forehead against hers. He smiles a very rare smile. He is somehow doing it with his entire face. His eyes are deep pools of bliss and warmth and tenderness.

“A desert” he says. She can even hear the smile in his voice.

She nods calmly. He knows Shepard is good at locking her nostalgia away behind more curtains than just her eyelids, but right then, her voice breaks.

“I really wanted you to see that desert, Thane.”

He utters a word in Rakhani used to convey a specific form of gratitude. And while taverena escapes from his lips, Shepard hears him say:

“Thank you for giving me the extraordinary.”

[leggomylino]

Sunrise | Hwang Hyunjin

 .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。 .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

Genre: Angst, Romance, Drama, Comedy

AU: Beauty and the Beast au

Pairing: Hwang Hyunjin x fem!reader

Word Count: ~26k

Warning(s): Minorly dark themes, vague mentions of suicide, sparse censored language

A/N: It’s finally done! <3 | For Kumi, my dear friend. <3

Playlist:

Lighthouse → Hope

forever rain → RM

Tag List: @hanniiesuckle17​ @distrikt9​ @hanstagrams​ @hyunsunq​ @smolboiseavey​ (let me know if you want to be added!)

ღ Stray Kids M.List | M.List ღ 

  .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。 .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

| Zero ❧

It was no lie that Hwang Hyunjin was what he was. A monster. A crook. A fiend. 

But had that been his fault? No. Had it been his intention to piss off the old hag who showed up at his doorstep looking for shelter, who also happened to be a witch?

...Well, yes, technically. But in his defense, he hadn’t known she’d been a witch. He just assumed she was another ex-royal his father’s company had put out of business, bankrupt and seeking reconciliation. Another pawn knocked off the chess board. 

So then was any of this really his fault? 

Not in the slightest.

Late November was when colorful bouts of leaves piled in the corners and around the front doors of Everain Palace, when icy winds took hold from north arctic fronts and chilled all those who inhabited it to the bone, or at least, those unfortunate enough to end up imprisoned in the steely corridors below. Dank, gray shadows fell over the surrounding dark atmosphere of the cold stone walls, seeping in elongated coverage that fell over the once festering city of New Amber, now reduced to nothing but a sickly small town until the return of the harvest season. If anyone even bothered coming back.

It was no secret why no one ever wanted to come back. Everyone knew about the curse. Rumors spread fast, and as the head of his father’s company Hyunjin couldn’t hide his scarred face forever. Afraid of becoming infected, afraid it would spread, half of the town vanished within the first few days. Another half of what was left disappeared over the course of the following two weeks, and the number of residents continued to dwindle even after that, until Hyunjin couldn’t even tell you how many remained as of today, six years later. Ten, maybe twelve royals, some small groups of peasants temporarily settling in until they too were told about the curse, and the dark secrets of the young man who lived beyond its walls.

He was once beautiful until he ticked off the wrong old lady. Now he lives out his days staring at a reflection of who he once was.

The part he hated the most was that he couldn’t deny it was the truth.

“Mirror!” he called, clapping his hands once, twice, three times. “Where is my mirror?! Where the hell did you put it this time?!?”

Begrudgingly with a sigh a shadow cascaded down along the stone wall, manifesting into something three-dimensional only a moment later. Blue hair fluttered softly around smooth, rounded features, a lone earring sparkling faintly in the pale moonlight, accentuating ripped jeans and the confines of a pitch-black hoodie. 

The whole ensemble was tacky and incredibly outdated. “Here…” His shadow said, holding out the small ornate mirror. His contractor grabbed it with anxious greedy hands, claws already beginning to form far too early thanks to the autumn equinox.

He paced away eagerly, collapsing to his corner of comforting feather downs and soft silk sheets, as he stared at a reflection of who he once was, who he used to be. How he would look today had he just pretended not to be home that ill-fated night.

“Jisung!” He barked, glaring angrily over his shoulder. “Come here.”

The boy-shadow sighed once more, nodding slowly as he had no right to refuse the man who had complete control over him. So he slowly sulked over toward the bed, shimmering at the seams as he passed through the inanimate threshold like a waking dream. Carefully his edges began to dissolve, bit by bit, until nothing but a faint air of smoke remained, settling dispersedly around the dim-lit bedroom.

Hyunjin never took his eyes off his past-in-the-present self, who only stared back at him with vacant, mournful eyes. “Show her to me.” he demanded, gently leaning a few inches forward. “Where is she?”

With careful swirls like a rippling tide the mirror faltered, spiraling and transforming the glass picture until the prince’s face was gone, the image of a girl taking his place.

Then another one. Then another one…

The mirror suddenly cracked. His hands tightened around the steel handle, a low growl resonating from behind parted lips curled up in a snarl.

“I’m sorry…” the mirror muttered, Jisung suddenly appearing out of the cracks to stand before him. “She’s still not here. I don’t know what you want me to do abo--”

“I don’t want you to do anything!” Hyunjin snapped, throwing down the mirror and shattering it into a million more pieces. “I just want her here! What’s taking her so long? Where is she?!”

“I--” Jisung winced as a few stray shards transpired through him, the feeling still foreign even after all these years and past mirrors similarly broken. “...I think these things just take time--”

“Time?! TIME?!?” Hyunjin was beyond livid. The moment he stood his servant shrunk back, nearly folding himself into the safe confinements of the old chiseled walls. “Time is something I don’t have. You know this, Jisung. If this goes on any longer I’ll…” His voice trailed off and he gulped, snatching a fistful of hair in his sharp dark claws. “...Why isn’t she here yet? What are you not telling me?”

“Telling you? Wha--”

“Shut up and answer me!” He demanded, slamming the boy against the wall. The poor guy would have sunken through had he, again, not been under such a binding spell. Instead the only thing he could do was resentfully comply, doing all he could to spitefully avoid eye contact. 

“I’m sorry, Hyunjin. I don’t know--”

“You’re working with her, aren’t you?” Hyunjin continued with narrowed eyes. He began to shake him, tightening his chokehold around the boy’s throat. 

Jisung gasped a bit, nails gritting against the echoing stone walls. “I-I really don’...” He tried to choke out. “...I really don’t know. I swear. Honest.”

“Lies.”

The tightening intensified. Jisung felt like he was nearly going to burst.

That’s when he’d gotten the idea.

“Y-You’re right! I lied! I know where she is!”

The moment he was let go Jisung gasped for breath, grateful as the heavy sinking feeling of doom left his vacant bones. Hyunjin blinked once, twice before narrowing his eyes again, taking a careful step back. 

“...I knew you were lying to me. Where is she?”

After holding up his hand for breath, his shadow slowly looked up from his knees, straightening and readjusting his strange, stretchy cufflinks of the hooded cloak he wore. “She’s lying dormant somewhere. I can get her for you.”

“Where?”

“Under...erm,” He awkwardly coughed. “...O-Over that way...out yonder.” 

Hyunjin didn’t seem very keen on the way his servant waved his hand dismissively in the random direction of “out yonder”; but it was a risk he was willing to take. He was desperate. Three more days and...and…

“Fine,” he answered at last, lavishly turning his cape away from him to pace towards the half-opened window. “You have until sunrise to bring her to me. I won’t wait a moment longer.”

“Wha?! But she--”

“Fine! Twenty-four hours. And you better return with the right one, or else.”

He gave a precise gaze over the slender curve of his princely shoulders, and that was all it took for his shadow to sink out of sight into the folds of stone-pressed cement below, the clouds blotting out the last rays of moonlight around them.

| One ❧

“Y/n~ Y/n, hurry up!! C’mon, we’re gonna be late!!”

“Yes, yes, I’m coming…”

Your friend Rei ran another ten yards ahead, impatiently stopping for the umpteenth time for your slow-leisurely pace to match up. “Uuuugh, c’mon already!”

“I said I’m coming…!”

...Sheesh. 

Autumn season. It was the time when the leaves changed their colors, one final requiem of individuality before fluttering away in the cool breeze, carried off somewhere to decompose and fall victim to the circle of life. It was also the time you and your friend Reiya, who you casually referred to as just Rei, spent all hours of the short-lived days travelling from village to town, in order to sell the wares of your fathers’ goods. They were both merchants, you see; it’s how the two of you had met, many years ago. But they were old now, the circle of life creeping up on them as well, and since all the men in your town were either taken or losers not worth your time, each of you vowed to take over the family business, carrying it wherever the wind decided.

...And anyway, neither of you were interested in the prospects of marriage; being tied down? And taking orders from some mustached buffoon? ...No thanks. It’s not that you hated the idea of settling down, just...not in your town. Not at your age. Not yet.

This way, things worked out well-- you and Rei got to travel the continent, avoiding arranged marriage and spending time in each other’s company selling your fathers’ wares and in turn, helping them out. They were free to enjoy a peaceful retirement while you added memories of wondrous places and escaped the evil clutches of a life tied down to a broomstick and a kitchen stove. It was perfect.

...Except for days like now, when you’d both woken up late and were at risk of losing a good place to set up shop. Your bad this time.

“Hurry up!!” Rei whined, doing her famous one-tap-two-step-hurry-up dance. The balls of her slippered feet hardly touched the stone pavement of the path leading to the city, her arms flapping like a chicken as she readjusted the triple-stacked backpack of goods from falling off her bony shoulders. “Let’s go let’s go let’s go!!”

“I told you, I’m coming!” You groaned, having been stuck with cart duty. It may have been nearly empty, but it sure didn’t feel like it. Normally it took two people to steer, in addition to horsepower by your trusted steed, Carrots, but unfortunately…

Carrots had too many carrots last night. And she wasn’t doing so well. 

It wasn’t serious, but it would be at least another few hours before she got it out of her system, so this blissfully unfortunate morning it was you and Rei having to wing it...with you having pulled the short end of the stick.

“Nnnneiiigh,” Carrots groaned from behind you. You gave her a gentle pat while trying your best to nudge the cart over the last hill. 

“It’s alright, girl. We’re almost there. Just a little farther.”

She let out a whine, almost seeming to nod in understanding.

“Ahh, hurry!” Rei called again, making haste for the city gate’s checkpoint line. All merchants and traveling businessmen (or women) were required to have their items evaluated and checked by city officials before being licensed a temporary warrant to sell.

When you made it to the top of the hill, already out of breath, you deflated-- then just about fell over when you saw how long the line was.

Oh man. This is all my fault. We shouldn’t have stayed up so late…

“You look like you could use a hand.”

You turned around to find a tall...ish, slender boy, with hair the color of chocolate and big, round eyes to match. A single silver earring hung from his right ear. “Oh, uh, that’s okay…”

“...Han,” he clarified, gripping one side of the cart. “Han Jisung. Just let me handle this. You should probably go help your friend; she looks like she’s about to fall over.”

You peered around the other side of the small wagon to see that, indeed, Rei was playing a game of balance, swaying a bit too far this way and that as she wobbled on flat calloused feet toward the back of the long line. But you? Leaving your father’s shop in a stranger’s hands? Even if it was in a populated area, and he did seem genuine…

“That’s okay.” You told him, grabbing tighter onto your side. “I can take it myself, I’m used to it. Thank you for the offer, though.”

“...” He blinked at you a moment, doing nothing at all but staring. Just when you were considering calling for Rei to come back, though, he laid off, tossing smooth hands in the air before shoving them in the front pocket of the strange cloak he wore. “Alright, alright. Didn’t mean to scare you or anything. If you insist, I’ll be on my way.”

He let go, and you felt the full weight of the cart pull your body downward, gravity affecting you in the worst way. ...Maybe…

“Um, hold on!” You shouted, and he stopped a quarter of the way down the hill, glancing up at you expectantly from over his left shoulder. Curse him. “Yeah?”

“...” You set your pride and suspicions aside. “...It would actually...well, I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to help. Just to the base of the hill.”

His eyes did the smiling for him, and was back at your side in seconds, taking the right flank while you managed Carrots and the left.

“Mind if I ask you something?” He pipped just steps later, eyes peering at you from over the cart as he jumped like a small puppy trying to see over a counter space. You groaned.

“I suppose I have no choice, so, sure. What is it?”

“Well…” He was beginning to mumble. “I know this may seem kind of sudden but, I have this...friend…”

“No.”

“Huh?”

The cart stopped rolling, delaying your schedule that much farther. “If this is headed where I think it is, I’m sorry but, I’m not interested. I’m very busy and I don’t have time for...love. Or a relationship. Other than the one I share with my customers.”

“Oh! No, no! Hahah…” Han had let go of the cart as well, scratching his cheek. “I-It’s not that! Nothing like that...I…”

His explanation was cut off by your sudden gasp, lunging forward to grab the cart as it started to descend down the steep slope. But it was too late; it slipped out of your grip like butter in a frying pan. “Oh no!”

The cart raced down the hill, gaining momentum and speed the farther it went. Crowds of people gasped as well, jumping and throwing themselves out of the speeding wagon’s path, until…

It reached the bottom, but it kept going. And it was headed right for Rei. 

Horror-stricken, you jolted, racing down whilst cupping your lips to scream out a warning call. “Rei! Look out!!”

Rei turned around. Her eyes widened.

But she remained unscathed. In the blink of an eye something dark and ink-like had raced over the pavement and grass fields; it manifested beneath the wheels, and the cart just...stopped.

“Rei!!” You cried, letting go of Carrots to plunder to her side. She’d fainted, but Han was there to catch her.

Han…

You stared him down nervously from the other side. “...How did you get here so fast?”

He carried your friend to the shade of the forest surrounding the city walls, others whispering and already beginning to spread gossip. You tried to block it out and ignore the intense stares and glaring from eighty-or-so business-competitors, following Rei’s limp body and coming to rest beside it, pulling her head into your lap. 

Though you were out of earshot, the whispering and curious eyes still followed you; so not good for business.

“Hey. I asked you something,” you said again, making sure to keep one eye on him, and one on the cart. “How did you get down there before I did? I didn’t even see you move.”

The strange boy didn’t say anything, save for laughing a bit. He then proceeded to ask you the oddest thing: “A man, or a beast...do you think we have a choice? On what we want to be?”

“What?” Your brow furrowed to form one solid unibrow. “Don’t ignore me. I asked you first. How did you get down there so quickly?”

Still, he refused to answer. “Technically, I asked you first. So you have to answer me.”

“I don’t have to do anything,” you replied, “but I will call for help if you don’t answer me right now.”

Seeing the anger on your face, the boy calling himself Han looked out into the near-distance, at the line steadily encouching forward and now forming a beeline around your abandoned shop. “Well, given that we are out of earshot...it’s not much of a threat, but...still,” he shrugged, almost to himself. “I suppose we wouldn’t want that.”

He set himself down criss cross applesauce, next to Rei’s spaghetti legs. You huffed, attempting to protectively heave her a smidge closer to you. “Alright, well, go on.”

He gave you the goofiest grin. “Well, it’s quite simple, really! I just swooped under the wagon, and jimmied the breaks! Worked like a charm!”

You frowned, not at all appeased with that answer. “You...jimmied the brakes?”

“Yep!”

“And it just...stopped.”

“That’s right.”

“...You dove beneath a speeding wagon and managed to attach yourself underneath?”

“That’s what it sounds like~”

“That’s what it sounds like?!”

“Look, we can point fingers all day at who-did-what, but if you don’t hurry and get back in line, you’re not gonna have any place at all to set up your little shop of knick knacks or...whatever it is that you sell. Is that a snow globe?” He asked, reaching for Rei’s bag. You swatted his hand away.

“...Fine, whatever. Thanks for saving her, I guess…”

“And?”

You pressed a kerchief from your pocket to Rei’s forehead, smoothing ebony locks from her face. “And?”

Han smiled. Again. “You gotta pay me back somehow, right?”

“For doing a good deed? Do I?” You scoffed. “And here I thought you were doing it just to be kind…”

“Well now you know~ ...I mean—“ He swallowed at the glare you gave him. “...What I mean is, I did do it. To be kind. But I’d love if it you could still pay me back by coming with me to—“

“I’m not going anywhere with you or your dumb friend, if that’s what you’re asking. Just save it for the birds.”

Rei was starting to stir, twitching slightly, her eyes squinting in and out of consciousness. You began patting her cheeks and calling her name, but unfortunately, she still wasn’t fully there yet. That, and the annoying man at the other side of her wasn’t finished. “I have a proposal for you,” he stated.

“A proposal?” You didn’t like the sound of that. “...I’m not interested. Look, I’ll just, give you something from my shop, and you can be on your merry way, okay? Here, what about that snow globe you were eyeing before?” You reached over Rei’s body, fishing it out and handing him the novelty. “Take it. It’s yours.”

The glass globe held the contents of a small gray castle, surrounded in a sea of red roses. Han took the globe from your hand, examining the structure and looking almost nostalgically somber as he watched the fake snow fall. “...Thank you, but it’s not what I want.”

“Then what do you want?” You groaned. “Look, just take whatever. I don’t care, it doesn’t matter. I have more important things to worry about right now.”

“...What I want,” Han said, ignoring that last part of your statement, “is for you to answer my question.”

“What? What quest— aah, I told you already, I’m not—!”

“A man, or a beast? As individuals, do we have a choice?”

The way he’d cut you off and stated his query so seriously made your head spin; it certainly caught you off guard, that was for sure. “...I’m sorry...I don’t understand the question.”

“Hmm…” Han thought. “...Imagine you were put under a...spell. A spell that turned you into a hideous monster, with fangs and claws and fur in places you’d never imagined...but it comes and goes, this curse of yours.” He tilted his head. “Are you still human? Or are you now a beast?”

Thoughts slowly circled your mind, not knowing what to think. You had no idea where any of this had come from, the only responses coming to mind countering questions: who is Han, what is he up to, why did he want to know what you thought of such a peculiar idea…

“Well?” He egged, leaning backwards.

“...I...I don’t know,” you confessed, listing your gaze aside. “I really have no idea where you got such a crazy idea from.”

“Okay...then let me ask you this. I’ll help you out.”

What? Help you out?

He leaned forward this time. “Do you think we have a choice? Is it possible to define ourselves as one or the other?”

“Well...yes, I would think so.” Your eyes met his, hoping that if you gave him an honest answer, perhaps he would leave. “We all have a choice— to be monsters, or men. It is not a matter of blood, or a spell, but a condition of the heart.”

You didn’t know it, as you’d turned away; but the moment those words left your parted lips, his eyes shone with the hope of a thousand suns, dawning the horizon after the longest winter storm. 

You’d turned away to shuffle for a bucket and some more handkerchiefs in Rei’s Bag of Wonders, holding out the bucket without turning your eyes away. “I changed my mind. Make yourself useful and get me some water from the nearby stream, or in town, whatever. Just—“

But when you cast your eyes back to where Han was sitting, he was gone.

| Two ❧

“You must have been having one hell of a dream to stay passed out for so long.”

“Ahaha…” Rei buried her fingers in her hair, entangling them in the sea of ebony that flowed behind her and came to a steady delta tied near the ends. “Sorry about that. It was like I wanted to wake up, but I just couldn’t. Like something...some kind of invisible wall was preventing me from doing so.”

“Hmm…”

The two of you had made it into town safely, with little trouble other than what you’d previously gone through with that strange boy, Han. After getting checked in and circling the shopping district three times, your luck finally began turning around when one of the vendors apparently felt ill and decided to turn in early; bad for him, but great for the two of you. The spot couldn’t have been more perfect, either: positioned right in the center of all the hustle and bustle, it attracted plenty of attention, and the moment you set up shop, customers came lining up at the window.

The two of you worked for hours to make up lost time, grinding your fingers to the bone, shuffling around each other to count coins, search for wares, and sign receipts of official purchase. By the time the lunch bell rang, you and Rei were about ready to fall over.

“I’m tired,” Rei moaned, collapsing to her knees and digging under the counter for your grocery supply. Woefully, her hand came back...empty. “Ah, we’re all out of bread! And apples…”

“What about that bag of trail mix you bought two days ago?” You asked while organizing receipts. Someone had to do it, and you knew Rei sure as heck wasn’t going to.

She sighed, shaking her head. “Carrots and I polished it off yesterday. ...Oh, carrots.” Her stomach growled right on cue, a forlorn sigh escaping dry lips. “...I’m so hungry...”

Something about that previous statement made you pause, inclining your head to the right in thought. …Carrots…Carrots…?

...Oh no. Oh hell’s bells, you’d completely forgotten about Carrots!

Without a moment to lose you dropped the stack of receipts you’d been tidying up onto the counter, hopping out of the wagon and running as fast as your boot-clad feet could take you. Your knees were still stiff and exhaustion weighed you down, but you couldn’t allow that to stop you. Not when that poor (dumb) horse was wandering and hopefully still waiting for you.

“Hey!” Rei yelled, her head leaning out the window. “Where are you going?! You forgot your coin purse!” She waved said object in the air, as if asking for a thief to come and swipe it. “I want lemons and some gum drops! I saw a candy shop about a block down!!”

“You can’t have candy for lunch!” You hollered back. “And I can’t right now, you’ll have to get lunch yourself today. There’s something I forgot.”

Her confused expression said everything else for her, but you didn’t have time to chat about lunch plans. You had to get that horse.

You ran with all your might (what little you had left) out of the shopping district, down three blocks, and past the city gate...that is, until a guard stopped you.

“Woooah there, little miss.” The man grabbed your arm, effectively pulling you backward; and he had quite the grip to boot. “I’m afraid you can’t just go hauling eighty out here like that. I’ll need to see some I.D.”

You cast anxiety-riddled eyes to the man, making sure each gesture showcased your anger. “What? To leave the city? ...But I’m leaving, not entering!” Your anxious gaze sought out into the trees, the pastures of bitter decay and spooky autumn silence where Carrots was last seen. “Please, I need to get out there. My horse is missing, I’m afraid I forgot about her after a...mishap...and ended up abandoning her. She’s sick, so I don’t have time to play games!”

“That’s all fine and dandy, ma’am, but rules are rules. Show me your I.D., please.”

“I…! …”

Reluctantly, you yanked your arm away, digging for…

...Nothing, because you’d forgotten your coin purse. The image of Rei waving it with pride and worry left a bitter taste in your mouth. And your vendor verification permit was left in the shop, as well. “...I don’t have any. My permit is with my co-partner, back in the shopping district.”

“Hm. Well, you’ll just have to go back and get it, then.”

“What?! I don’t have time for that!” You turned pleading eyes to the officer, prayerfully searching for understanding alongside a missing horse. “Please sir, she couldn’t have wandered very far. I’ll be right back! I’m only going--”

He shook his head. “Sorry miss, like I said, rules are rules. Because of the recent string of kidnappings, all residents and visitors alike are required to provide valid identification before coming in or leaving city walls. Mayor’s orders.”

You’d been thinking about making a run for it or finding another guard to reason with until the word kidnappings made its way into the conversation. Normally you would have been curious and not too concerned...however… 

...That’s considering you heard it from a local paper floating in the breeze, or along the gossiping grapevine from one vendor to another, one chatty socialite to the next whispering to each other among the lively bustle of city life. Why were you just now hearing about it here? From an officer? How long had this been going on?

In all the questioning silence, you basically forgot about...what was it you were looking for again? “Um, forgive me for prying, but...kidnappings?”

“...E-Er...that’s...” The officer flinched, taking a half step back. “...Um...well...dammit all…” He removed his thick uniform hat, scratching his head a moment before readjusting it to fit tall and proud. He cleared his throat. “...Please forget I said anything. If you wish to leave the city, I’ll need to see some valid I.D.”

“......”

He simply stood there, pretending as if nothing had happened. The only proof you had was the sweat swimming along his forehead, but surely he’d blame that on the nonexistent autumn heat and the fullness of his uniform.

You had no choice but to reenter the masses.

- ❧ -

When you return to the gates, the same officer approved of your vending license (still sweating from that “autumn heat,”) signalling for the men in the tower to let you through. It was late afternoon now, the skyline growing dangerously close to dusk; when you’d returned to shop a while earlier, you couldn’t admit to Rei that you’d lost her best friend next to you (though some friend she was having no idea about the whole thing...), so you were left with little choice but to play along and have lunch until it was time to work again. The late-day crowds were always far less stressful than morning shifts, so confident she would be fine on her own you took back off for the South entrance the moment the work bell rang.

“Carrots...Carrots...looking for a food-poisoned horse…”

Sigh. The words were a groan from your lips as you trudged about a floor of dead leaves and twisted bare tree branches. The skyline was starting to wear thin, every step you took noisy and either resulting in startling a field mouse or alerting a wandering bear out of hibernation of your whereabouts. Not an ideal situation to be in.

I’ve been wandering these woods for three hours now. Dang it, where is she?! ...Normally, Carrots was a good horse; she followed you around, did as told, and when you did lose her (...as this wasn’t the first time…) she stayed put and waited for you to return; like that time in Cresentmoon Harbor (for it was literally shaped like a crescent), when you and Rei had been so distracted by some dashingly handsome fisherman named Minhee and wanted to hear his tales of the rough blue sea that you’d, yes, left your horse astray, where a group of thugs almost snatched her. 

That had actually been a fun day, watching Rei throw apples and trinkets and club the ringleader with his own beatstick. This time, however, you’d known exactly where you left her. You were sure there were no gangs or thugs near a place like this; not a clean-cut, safeguarded place like Westwind...any yet, Carrots hadn’t been there. Not at the top of the hill where you left her, or beneath it, beside it, or anywhere nearby.

...Although...didn’t that cityguard mention something about kidnappings?!

That stupid horse. I knew I should have overruled Rei and named her Dumdum. She went and got herself kidnapped! URGH, I had to go pulling the short end of the stick today--

A sharp wind blew by without warning, causing you to shiver. Mournfully, you wondered if maybe you should turn back and enlist Rei’s help after all...have her summon back that courageous, beatstick-smacking frenzy… 

Oh, but how heartbroken she’d be to hear of Carrot's disappearance! ...It was all for naught, though... 

Carefully, you turned around and began walking the way you came, one step, then two...then stopped. Looking out into the moors, the forest beyond, the stretch of trees and forest decay that went on for miles and miles seemed...different, somehow. It went on for miles and miles and...miles and miles and miles. It didn’t seem to have an end.

I know I didn’t walk that far… Now now, Y/n. Can’t see the forest for the trees, hm? It’s no big deal, I just wandered a bit farther than I thought. I’ll start heading back now.

Because Rei was the fun-loving, clueless bubbly-type, you had to be the strong one (not including Wild, Pissed-Off Rei). You were the confident, analytical, and ambitious of the two. You prefered logic and data, and relied almost whole-heartedly on common sense, with few exceptions. And as any rational person of your nature would, you’d made sure to mark the entire way you’d come; so it was no big deal, wandering out a bit farther than you had intended. 

...Except...

...The first marker never came. Not after five minutes, not after ten. You walked in the opposite direction for precisely 1,000 steps and counting, and all that greeted you were the same exact scene of bare trees and dead leaves. In the same order. In the same tones and volumes and shapes.

It was going to start getting dark in the next two hours. You stopped, thinking. Running numbers. Fishing for data…...fishing…...fish…...Minhee...heheh…

No, no! Staying on track was crucial at a time like this…! 

But you ended up standing there, for another ten, twenty minutes maybe, not sure what to do. There was a strange vibe in the air, you could feel it. The way it wafted through the air and settled on your skin. Rattling your bones. It almost felt like it was bribing you in another direction. 

So you did an illogical thing unlike your nature: you kept walking straight ahead, ignoring it for as long as you could. But dammit, the scenery never changed! Not after an hour, not after two… 

You were tired at this point, collapsing hopelessly by the same tree you passed a hundred times...and then you got an idea, like a fog lifting from your brain (Why hadn’t you thought of this sooner?!). Grabbing a twig, you made a small notch in the tree. Then you took off running, jogging at a brisk pace. Never making a single right or left turn, not even in the slightest. Headed only one direction, following alongside the setting sun.

That same notch bid you a pleasant hello eight and a half minutes later. To make sure it wasn’t just a coincidence, you walked another eight and a half minutes; same notch, same place, same twig resting lifelessly to the right. Same tree.

It was getting dark now. Soon the sun would be completely gone over the horizon, tucked away for twelve hours of sleep before returning to shine light on a new day. And you had no horse to show for it; more importantly, you were lost. Trapped in some kind of...weird bermuda triangle of decaying forest with no sign of life anywhere. 

Great, just great. I hate my luck… wait… 

...Ah, yes. Conveniently, just when you’d thought to possibly scream out your frustrations into your work apron, rattling on about how much luck despises you, and how you despise her back, maybe shed a few tears since no one was around, a tower of billowing smoke caught your attention, a sign of life that hadn’t been there before. 

. . . 

You should have been more cautious. Normally, you would have been. But given recent events…

“Hello…?” You called softly, pushing the door open; though, let’s be honest, the door really seemed to just...open itself. “Is anybody here?”

The house was old and worn. A small cottage just big enough for one, it must have been at some point; now, it was practically all but decayed along with the surrounding forest. Another heap of dead wood and rotted roots among many. A faintly ripe and sickeningly sweet scent wafted about the torn chamber, wrapping around sagging furniture, torn drapes, and a half-caved roof that gave clear sight to the full moon, bulging and cackling in a clouded manner.

It was a stark contrast to the decrepit old woman beckoning you from within. 

“Yes, yes… Come in, my child.”

| Three ❧

A few hours earlier, Han Jisung had just been minding his own business, a faceless shadow of a dark hood browsing Westwind goods, humming a fiery tune, all while coming up with a plan for smuggling an innocent human girl into the cursed city of New Amber. He was pleasantly aware of the time; he had exactly ten hours left before he was due back at the palace, girl in tow, in order to keep his handsome blue-haired head and devilishly charming eyes.

He had time. The two cities may have been four hours apart on horseback, a diagonal stretch of twisted forest and steep valleys between them, but being a shadow he could just-- ...zip...and zig...and...zag...right beneath the… … … 

...He wouldn’t be returning alone. He was transporting a human girl. That had no magical curse or powers to speak. The only way to return was the old-fashioned way...which meant…

He only had half the time he thought he did. Balls.

Making his way through the afternoon crowds, he followed three winding back alleyways before making sure the coast was clear of wandering eyes, seeping into the broken cobblestone and dashing through history below, long forgotten structures and fossils of stories past: a mineshaft, a tavern sign, a snuffed-out bonfire. At just a block away he set out a brisk pace for where he last placed a tracking mark upon the one known as Rei.

It had been a simple plan; since Y/n was impossible to get near, he merely embedded a small tadpole of his shadowy spirit into the other. Since they traveled together, where one was found, the other wouldn’t be far behind. Find Rei, find Y/n.

But beside that fact, it was starting to itch; being without a part of him for too long caused an empty, nagging feeling to rise and fall through his bones like a waxing, waning tide, going back and forth, back and forth. It got downright maddening after a while, almost like an addiction, to the point where eventually, he couldn’t stand to be without himself any longer. If he wasn’t whole, what was he?

...For a shadow...being whole meant everything.

“I see you’re feeling better,” he greeted her, the girl whose life he very well saved. Rei turned around from her stockpile of cash, where she placed many bags of coins in the Candy For Me! ♫ pile and few in the Dumb Taxes :( pile.

“Oh, hey, I know you!” Her face lit up tenfold; an oddity given the fact she should have been unconscious for ninety-percent of their previous encounter... “You’re the guy that saved me before! I thought you looked familiar!”

She threw a tarp over the stacks of cash she’d been organizing before, as if that was going to...protect it, or something. She rested her chin in palm, elbows propped upon the counter space. Smiled.

“So what brings you by? What can I help you with? Oh,” she smirked, wagging a single brow. “Could I interest you in this love potion?” 

A bottle of perfume made its way between them from out of nowhere, dangling like mistletoe. It...Han couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of it. 

“You wouldn’t happen to be looking for Y/n by chance, would you~?” Rei asked.

The proposed bottle had the painted label scratched off, where the replaced paint job read Love Potion No.9, along with a price tag of thirty-five coins. Han chuckled, doing his best to play off the awkward gesture. He had to tear his eyes away from it.

“Thank you, but no,” he stated, gently lowering her arm to the table. The sliver of his missing portion swam back into him, through his fingertips and up his arm, and this didn’t seem to go unnoticed by Rei, though he distracted her into shrugging it off. “I actually am looking for Y/n, if you happen to know where she is? I suppose you’re right about that part, actually.”

“Oh? Really?!” Rei’s face lit tenfold...again. She squealed. “Eeeeek, I knew it! Oh, I just love when this happens!”

Her face thrust straight into his, nearly close enough to kiss. It startled him into backing distance. 

“What is it?!?” She cried excitedly. “What do you need to see her for?! Oh, please tell me it’s to exchange letters! Or trinkets!” She looked like the shadiest business woman ever in the next second. “Y/n may have said she was organizing paperwork, but I knew what was really going on. Tee-hee!”

“...Ahh…” ...Shoot, what the hell was he supposed to say?! This girl didn’t seem like the type to appreciate being let down... “...There’s something I…” He gulped. “There’s something I wish to show her. Before setting out, that is.”

“Oh…” Her frown encased her disappointment. “I see...well, actually…” She twirled a strand of sleek black hair away from her tan complexion. “Y/n left about an hour ago...no, it has to have been longer than that…” Her frown deepened, looking off into the distance. “She took off as soon as lunch ended, and she hasn’t come back yet. I think she said she was looking for something…? But…” 

Now she was looking down vacantly into the counterspace. There was a dull sheen in her eyes.

“...I’m starting to worry. Y/n never just runs off for hours on end like this. It’s not like her at all. ...What if something…”

Han put a stop to that thought: one, because he hated seeing girls cry, and two, because he could tell she was the messy-crier that would get snot and tissues everywhere, including his hair and earring; also there was three: his ass on a silver platter, courtesy of His Angry-Cursed-Forever Highness. If he failed to secure Y/n…

He didn’t wanna think about it. Which is why he swiftly set Rei upright, patting her shoulders and promising that he would go out and look for her. She couldn’t have wandered far, seeing as her whole livelihood was on the line (and in the hands of someone like Rei…whom he didn’t know that well, but still…)

“Can you give me an idea of where she may have gone? Which way did she go?”

“Yeah, sure! She went that way, and, oh yeah, she took our vending license with her! Do you think she could have gone to City Hall, maybe…?”

It was unlikely. City Hall was in the other direction, to the north-east; and according to Rei, Y/n had ventured south. The only thing there was lower-class common folk and the city gates, meaning the only conclusion he could come to was that she needed to verify her legitimacy in order to continue business, or she needed out.

After questioning some guards under a guise of glamour and shade (which was necessary for...private reasons), he was at last directed to a middle-aged man who claimed to have allowed the girl to leave some three to four hours ago. Before they could get an answer out of him as to why he wanted to know, Han vanished into the shadows like a thief in the night, slipping through the straying crowds towards the nearest alleyway, where he plopped down, zipped below, and popped right back up on the other side of the great city wall.

Removing his hood, he looked around, scanning the area for any clues of Y/n’s whereabouts. But, of course, nothing.

Dammit, it was getting late! It was already late!

Han bit his nails, fuming. Pacing. He was going to be in so much trouble if he didn’t…!

...Sigh. Screw it all. He’d just have to look for her. If he found her fast enough, he could come up with some plan to make it back to Everain before sunrise.

He began his search heading South, into the clamour of trees. Past one tree, two, five, twenty. Deeper and deeper he traveled, gradually becoming one with the earth and expanding his search among the elements. Beneath the earth, brushing against roots of trees and flowerbeds, he could “see” everything-- as far as a twelve mile radius. 

His shadowed extensions stretched over the land, covering all ground within reach like the hands of a clock, time traveling faster and faster until…!

...He found it. Er, her. His senses zoomed in on a house, caved in from years of age and resentment, crumbling to dust even now outside the confines of Y/n...and……someone else…

...Someone he knew.

Out of breath, he nearly choked in the enclosure of his own realm, eyes wide and heart frozen stiff. It took every last bit of strength to push himself free, for he couldn’t escape fast enough; not when a demonic witch like her was around. 

Except...he’d started to run the wrong way. And then he stopped entirely, unable to move.

He hated that decrepit old hag. After everything that happened...the magic, the sorrow, the black fires of hell...he wanted nothing to do with her. He’d sworn that the moment he saw her again, it would be too soon. The witch that had taken his humanity.

It was she who had cast them all to hell in a handbasket, after all.

Standing there beneath the blotted night, gentle caresses of wind cascading and percolating through strands of brown and blue, he looked down to his bare hands, setting focus to the rivets of small scars where rivers of shadow flooded his veins.

A knock at the door. A sneer. A warning glare.

He tightened his grip on the air, so free and billowing carelessly in contrast to him.

A push. A harsh remark. A confident smile.

He squeezed his eyes shut.

Anger… Resentment… Fire…

And…then…

He gasped for air once more. Not now. Now was not the time to think. He needed to act, to push all of this past him. It was the only way to break the curse and save Hyunjin, and in return, himself. The entire palace of Everain— the whole city, perhaps— was counting on him.

...Shadow. The only thing I remember...is black.

 Cringing, he threw caution to the wind, where fear was meant to reside with the birds.

- ❧ -

The house was as old and vile as the woman who lived there. Vines snaked and slithered their way around the entire enclosure like a brood of thorned vipers, between cracks in the wall panels and over the steps leading to a gaping front door, just asking to trip its prey into it’s dark clutches. Into her clutches; those wrinkled leathered hands dripping with metaphorical blood and darkness.

Han hated all of it. He’d known about the Witch’s home for a long time, but he refused to ever step foot on her accursed soil (...until now, that is). The problem was, her biome was always changing, shifting and teleporting all over the place. Few unlucky souls who had survived to see it dubbed it Howl’s Moving Castle.

That title entirely ruined the book for him. Not that he particularly enjoyed reading, anyway; but he refused to lift it or so much as look at the book’s spine resting in the lavish, dusty library back home.

“Hey,” he called, marching right in. There wasn’t time for cold feet or second thoughts; if he didn’t have Y/n, there would be no point in going back. Returning without Y/n meant certain death via Hyunjin, but going through the Witch’s Biome meant likely death via whatever disdainful plot the Witch could come up with. At least facing the Witch’s path, he had a slim chance of making it out alive. If he were fast enough.

He’d thought about it on the way over: before, he had no powers to speak of. He’d been a regular, average teenage boy just trying to make it up and through adulthood, figuring out what he wanted to do with his life. But with the Witch’s curse, all that changed; he was essentially one with the darkness; and darkness was everywhere. Especially here. 

Assuming Y/n was conscious and able to move, he calculated that with high enough confidence and self-esteem, he should have no problem distracting the foul old hag long enough for his last hope to escape. (And Lord knew he had plenty of that to go around...)

Darkness clouded the entire room, choking out all light save for a few small rays of moonlight. The temperature seemed to be dropping 10 degrees every second. “Hello?” He tried again, checking left, right. “I...I know you’re here. Witch.” He was already beginning to seethe. “Come out. Where is Y/n?”

There was no response. Nothing creaked, no one croaked. Not even the wind outside made a sound.

Then something darted behind him, to the right, and he parried the opposite direction, biting his lower lip. Here it came. The worst part.

A single field mouse made its way into the faint slivers of rooftop moonlight. And there it sat, perched on its hind legs, whiskers twitching and tail dancing rhythmically across the uneven floor.

“How do you like?” came a creaky frail voice from beyond. Her voice was a sour note to his ears.

Han gritted his teeth, tasting blood on the horizon. “I’m not here to rate your latest experiments,” he spat. “That better not be Y/n. Show yourself, now.”

A lingering moment passed before the fleabag chuckled, stepping ancient bones into the small pool of light. “Alright, alright,” she said, in a mockingly chiding tone. “No need to get so angry. That’s what got your friend into so much trouble, after all. And look what it did to you.”

Two minutes in, and she was already hitting a nerve. Nerves that needed to remain untouched were his plan to go smoothly. “Don’t tell me what to do. I don’t take orders from you. You already ruined me. What more could you possibly do?”

A dark foreboding thought brewed up a storm in her eyes, just lingering on the edge of sanity. “Believe me,” she rasped, “I showed you both mercy.”

Han flinched. He couldn’t help it. He wanted to explode, yet cower in terror, all at once. He was livid, yet terrified-- anxious-- and a little sick to his stomach. “Give me Y/n. Right now. I didn’t come here to chat.”

The old woman smiled. “I can’t,” she simply stated, not moving an inch.

“Why not?!”

“Because you’re standing on her.”

Horrified, Han shot his gaze downward. Corsarn, he didn’t think he’d been standing on anything but the…!

But there was nothing but paled wooden planks. The Witch laughed. “Ahahah, not physically on her, dear. Though this house is so old, you may as well be...I’m surprised the floors haven’t caved in to match the roof.”

After holding her gaze a moment too long, he took a step back, flitting his eyes between Witch and supposedly underground wardrobe. “Open the door. Slowly.”

“Oh, so now I’m supposed to be taking your orders?” She scoffed, sighing at the end. “My, how times have changed…”

“Just do it!” he ordered.

The Witch gave a stern, slight scowl. “Oh, fine. I’m out of enough magic to put another curse on you anyway,” she muttered. Tapping her ancient walking stick once, twice upon the rotting floors, something clicked below, and the square space where Han had been standing swung open. “Just so you know,” she added, “I took the liberty of having a little fun, as you probably already guessed. She’ll be out for a few hours, but I don’t foresee death in her future; at least, not in the near one,” she chuckled.

“You--!” ...Rrgh. He still had to bite his tongue. His lip was already going to be busted and sore tomorrow. 

Trotting down steadily with caution, before the gaze of a putrid old smile he descended the hidden staircase, never once letting his guard down. The girl he sought was safely snoozing in one piece, lying like a waking dream...other than being unconscious.

He gathered her up, using shadow to cross the room, just in case a trap was lying dormant on the way over, and with Y/n in his arms, he almost thought about attempting to drag her into the Shadowworld with him, just so he didn’t have to face the old has-been again and make a clean getaway.

But it was too risky. And likely, it wouldn’t work; so carefully, he placed one nimble foot in front of the other, across the blank room, up the stairs, and into the familiar darkness from moments before. The Witch was still waiting for him, still as a statue in the exact location she had been. She followed him all the way to the door, tittering at his suspicion of the whole thing. 

She then watched as they made it off the porch. “Here,” she announced, sensing his urgency; for he’d just been about to make a run for it before she called him.

Nervously, he turned around halfway, holding Y/n tighter.

The bat continued her chuckling. She scooped down surprisingly swift, tossing something gray and furry into the air. It landed haphazardly onto his arm, clinging for dear life to his sleeve with a faint squeak! before scampering up to his shoulder. “Take him,” she said, making a shooing motion with her hand. “I have no need for the pitiful thing. He can keep you company on your way back.”

Company? Oh, no no no. He didn’t think so. He wasn’t stupid; Han knew of her tricks. The rat was probably a spy, or some kind of ticking time bomb. Forcefully, he shifted his grip on the girl, snatching the creature from its place--

...Except, he meant to throw it back. He did. He would have tossed the wretched thing to the ground and stomped on its brains without a second thought.

But it’d cried. Shrieked. Wailed. He knew the sound of terror when it howled.

Glancing up, he saw that it was crying. Actually crying.

Something was off. It had to be human...or at least, have some sort of intelligent wit.

Loosening his grip, he allowed the creature to squirm and wiggle its way free, scampering up his arm and tucking itself fearfully in the pouch of his hood with a nosedive. Sensations of trembling fell against his upper backside.

“Take care on your way home; you may need it.” 

A twisted smile. Tch.

Glowering amongst the laughter, he left the darkness behind him.

| Four ❧

“How may I assist you, dear?” The old woman asked.

Your eyes scanned the area, dilating and adjusting to the faint light. “I’m sorry,” you began, giving a small, polite bow. “I didn’t know anyone was home.”

“Oh, now, that’s alright~” The woman insisted, beckoning you farther in. “Come, come, sit! Make yourself a home. I’m the one who invited you in, yes?”

“...” Carefully you nodded, moving with caution to take a seat at the dusty worn table. 

“Now,” she said, popping joints as she settled across from you. “What can I do for you today?”

“...Do for me?”

She chuckled. “Yes, yes…” Her eyes were impenetrable, boring into yours. You had trouble looking away. “No one comes here without a purpose. There are no happy accidents.”

“......” Again, you found yourself hesitating, having trouble forming the right words. Words were becoming a limited resource all of a sudden. 

“Well~?” the woman pressed.

“...” You swallowed dryly. Something just wasn’t right; but who were you to lie to an old woman? In her own home, nonetheless. “I’m looking for someone...my horse, actually.”

“Hmm, I see…”

“She wandered off...well, no, that’s not true.” You sighed. “I left her by accident. I abandoned her without meaning to, out front of Westwind city. We’d woken up late, my friend and I, and in our hurry and a near-death experience thanks to someone, I ended up forgetting all about her. When I went back to fetch her and bring her home, she was gone.”

“Oh, my…” The old woman was still smiling. “That sounds like some adventure the two of you had! Though, tell me…” She tilted her head. “Who is this “someone” that got in your way?”

“Hm? Oh,” You sighed, again. “Some strange boy that just showed up out of nowhere and offered to help me move the cart downhill. He’s no one special.”

The woman chuckled. “Well, he must be to have stepped up and offered you assistance in this day and age,” she replied. “What was his name?”

There was an intensity you didn’t like. As if she were interrogating you for answers. 

Dryly, again, you swallowed.

“Han-something, I think. Han...Jisung.”

That’s when it had been over. But you hadn’t known that; not yet.

“Han Jisung…” The woman repeated. She was clearly searching the archives. 

Then she found what she was looking for, and curving crooked fingers skyward, she beckoned your hands to be placed atop of her on the table.

“Give me your hands, dear. I know just what it is that you need.”

If only you hadn’t listened to her… 

- ❧ -

You were no fool. You saw what the witch had done to you, just before falling unconscious.

Stirring now, you curled into the weight of something dark and soft, something sheltering and warm against the cold night air. Whatever it was held you tighter, the world slowing down.

“Y/n? Are you alright? Can you hear me?”

Ow. Yes.

One of the side-effects must have been a splitting headache…

“Yes...I can hear--”

Rrpt! Hold on a second. You knew that voice…!

In all haste you shot upright, only to collide foreheads with Han Jisung, the both of you growling in pain. Your headache just got ten times worse.

“Ow…! Sh*t, of all times and places…” After counting one, two Mississippis for the pounding to decrease, you sent him a glare, blurry vision mixed with clouded judgement. “What are you doing? What’s going on, where are you taking me?!”

The foolish boy snorted, ignoring you to continue walking. As your eyes cleared of drowsiness, you could see the two of you were alone, out in the middle of the forest. “A simple thank you wouldn’t hurt, y’know. I did just finish saving your life a few hours ago.”

“You…?” Hesitantly, you looked around again, pressing a hand to your forehead in feeble attempt to decrease anymore throbbing heartbeats. “...Where are we? I don’t know what you’re talking about. Put me down this instant.”

“You sure do ask a lot of questions for someone who was just cursed and knocked out.”

“I said, put me--! …” 

You paused. The whole world seemed to.

Carefully, slowly, you turned your face back towards the sunlight. “...Wh...What did you say?” 

Han snorted. Again. “You heard me. You waltzed right into the Witch’s Biome like an idiot, and now you’re one of us. I don’t know what I’m going to tell Hyunjin…”

...You’d stop listening towards the end. Everything just naturally tuned out, your eyes falling aimlessly to stare vacant holes into the dimensional rift of the traveling space around you. 

“In case you’re wondering,” Han’s voice cut through, calling for your attention once more. “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m taking you to my friend; well, he’s really more of my...uhm…”

You waited vacantly for an answer.

“...Uhhh…”

You didn’t have time for this. Not that anything mattered or made sense anymore. Still, you weren’t going to idly sit here and listen to Tweedle Dee make dumb noises the rest of the night. “He’s what?” you pressed, aggravation clearly showing. “Is he your master or something?”

Han Jisung nearly dropped your hungover cursed arse. Which told you you were right, even if he kept insisting you were wrong. It was pretty funny to see him fuming and hot under the collar the rest of the walk.

Speaking of walking, you had fidgeted and demanded to walk by yourself, but after nine nos and a tenth yes, you found you had absolutely no strength in your wobbly, jelly-like legs. Resulting in Han carrying you like an unfortunate groom once more.

Yes, you’d argued for him to take you back. But no, he refused.

Which meant he had to be that kidnapper the city guard mentioned after all.

This lead you to be afraid, and rightly so; what if Han killed you?! What if he actually was dangerous, and he had been lying to you from the start. Nothing he’d been saying up until this point made sense anyway; and just look at the way he was dressed. Only crazy people wore such strange, unusual attire, so futuristic and bizzare-looking. 

And, you noticed, the closer you got to...wherever he was taking you...the more and more his appearance changed.

It was gradual, slow at first; just a random strand of hair, a speck of color in his eye that hadn’t been there before. Then, out of nowhere, it was like time sped up around him, and his eyes became a solid, bright blue, his hair a darker contrast, and that lone earring he wore shimmered with a paradoxical bright darkness, like shadows giving birth to light.

It was...insanity. Yet, regrettably, you had to admit he’d grown incredibly attractive. 

Han didn’t speak much the second half of your trip, and neither did you. You were too busy trying to process what was happening, and he was lost in his own world, eyes never leaving the road ahead except to occasionally check on you. It was a nonverbal communication: Are you still doing okay? / Yes, I’m fine. Quit staring at me. / Yeah, okay, you’re welcome.

About two hours later, the two of you arrived at the gates of an old, rustic castle, and a city that looked all but lost.

| Five ❧

Your headache had at last subsided by the time you arrived at Everain Palace. ...Or at least, that’s what the sign said it was called. You were barely able to read it through the layers of rust and vines, however. “This is the place?”

“Yep,” your entourage announced, setting you down beside him. “It’s been a few hours now, so you should have the strength to walk again, at least to your room. But I’m sure I can get some lackey somewhere to carry you the rest of the way if you can’t manage.”

“Hold on...what?”

“What?”

He finished setting you down, and you wobbled your way back a few steps, leaning against the gate’s archway for support. “I’m not staying here. I can’t. I have to get back to Rei and find Carrots, my stupid horse. Then, I’m renaming her Dumdum and we’re sweeping all of this under the rug.”

Instead of laughing, or perhaps getting a little angry even, Han Jisung stared at you with the most pitiful glance anyone had ever given another human soul. It was dreadful, but soft, somewhat loving, and oozing with regret.

And then he said those abysmal words you were scared of hearing all along.

“I’m sorry, Y/n. But I’m afraid you won’t be traveling anywhere anytime soon.”

You stared at him dumbfounded. This was it, you thought. The truth revealed. He really was a kidnapper; and now, you were his next victim. The whole charmingly dopey and idiotic act had been just that: an act. And you’d fallen for it.

So you did the next thing you could think of, seeing as fighting and running away were out of the question in your weak and disoriented state.

“KIDNAPPER!!!” You screamed. “THIEF! HUMAN TRAFFICKING!! HELP!!!”

But soon you remembered your surroundings, where you were at this time: a rundown city that appeared to have been abandoned for years, closed off in an eternal slumber. Everything was covered in vines and dust, and hardly anything made a sound.

You were doomed.

Han rushed over quick to keep your mouth shut while sweating at the seams, but a chomp to his hand did him right good, and while he was bouncing around and airing out his hand like a blubbering buffoon you tried making a run for it. Keyword: tried.

In the end, you only made it as far as the circle of trees isolating this town before something pierced the back of your neck, and you were a prisoner of sleep all over again.

- ❧ -

You aren’t quite sure; perhaps you slept for eight, nine hours. All you knew is that when you awoke, there was sunshine pouring through the curtain-laced window like the brightest waterfall.

A...curtain-laced window...and silk sheets… … … 

You hopped to it the next second that thought circled your mind.

No. Oh, no…

...This certainly wasn’t your room. Your room was with the stars, the ocean, the grassy plains and trees, Rei at your side. This was an actual room, complete with a bed, canopy, dresser and wardrobe, a nightstand, and an additional table with matching chairs, four to be exact; two large windows, standing side by side at opposite ends of the room to your left. One beside the table, one near the door.

There was a note left for you on the nightstand (to your left) as well.

Y/n -

I’m sorry I had to knock you out like that. But you’re one of us now, and I can’t afford to let you leave. It’s important. Lives are at stake. You have to trust me, please.

There’s someone I’d like for you to meet. More like I need you to. I’ll explain more later, when you’re awake. If you read this and you still don’t feel well, feel free to take another couple of hours to yourself, to get your bearings; but don’t sleep for too long. I’ll wake you when we’re more pressed for time.

Again, I’m really sorry about all this. I hope you can find it in you to forgive me, but I get it if you need more time. Just promise not to take it out on Hyunjin, if you happen to run into him first.

Signed, Han, your kidnapper

There was an additional piece of paper that fell from behind the original.

P.S. - That was just a joke. Don’t freak out. I’m not a bad guy, really. At least, not as bad as you probably think I am.

…

You didn’t know what to think of anything anymore. This was all just too much. What on earth had happened to you? How did you get roped into all of this? ...You’d just wanted to find Carrots, and bring her home so Rei wouldn’t be sad and you wouldn’t feel guilty and the two of you could save the trouble of having to buy a new horse, train him, yadda yadda yadda. Instead you stupidly and ill-fatedly stumbled upon the home of an actual witch, walked right in, and told her things you probably shouldn’t have. You didn’t like the way she’d looked at you when you mentioned knowing Han Jisung.

The Mark of the Rose, the witch had slurred, eyes wide with a sinister grin. A blessing, and a curse.

Then she’d spouted some sort of riddle:

When sunrise comes and all is lost, Look upon the oldtown cross There you’ll find just what you seek This aging woman’s prophecy But if yet still you manage to bend And find and seek what storm’s may rend May fortunes smile and bring you light For the many remaining days of your life

...She hadn’t told you what the heck any of that was supposed to mean. For one, how could plaguing you with a mark from some wicked sorcery be a blessing?! And, what’s more...how was it a curse…? ...Her strange chanting hadn’t made any sense, though that last part had sounded nice...maybe that was the blessing?

Something made a skittering, scuffling sound. Turning to your left, something small and fuzzy caught your eye, climbing up a chair leg and coming to rest on the cushion above. It was...holding a crumb of cheese. Sitting there like a person, flat on his bum.

It was some kind of rodent.

You bristled all over, hair standing on end. “A RAT!!!” You shrieked, leaping from bed to dresser. Thankfully it had been bare atop the surface, minus the unlit candle and some kind of ornate mirror, which was an unfortunate accident. Seven years of bad luck was just what you needed, on top of everything.

The moment you let out a cry of alarm, the mouse similarly screamed-- possibly louder than you-- spasming out of the chair and running in circles with sweat flying from its brow until it ran into another chair leg and clocked out, rolling into the path of sunlight.

You’d been about to grab that discarded candle as a weapon until the room became incredibly bright. Clouds parted from outside, sunlight magnifying to flood the whole room. 

And then, when the sunlight narrowed to pierce the unconscious vermin straight through its heart, he became a boy. 

Hair the color of sunset and cheeks flushed rosy pink, full of freckles scrunched his nose, squinted, and wearily stared back at you, upside down. Prayerfully, by some miracle, he was still wearing clothes.

That didn’t change the fact that you had no idea what to make of this sudden development. You stood there, hunched frozen atop the dresser, candle half off the floor and jaw nearly there.

“Hn-- nnnngh…” he groaned, sitting up with a hand to his head, much like you had leaving the Witch’s Biome-- that’s what Han had called it, right? “...Ouch...that’s the last time I go exploring on my own…” He glanced at you over his shoulder, giving a kind, tired smile. “Thanks for turning me back! I’m sorry I scared you, Y/n.”

Your candlestick went flying across the room. 

“OW!!!”

“WHO ARE YOU?! HOW DO YOU KNOW MY NAME?!” you yelled. An accusatory finger followed. “This isn’t funny, and I’ve been through enough now! I’m sick of playing games, give me an answer right now or I’m throwing this broken mirror next!”

The door burst open. “What’s going on in--?! …”

Han Jisung was staring at Mouseboy curiously at first, widen eyes unblinking, you on the dresser second, a careful blink there...but the moment his eyes landed on the cracked mirror, he fell to his knees, hands in his hair.

“OH SH*T!” He shrieked, panicstricken all over. His voice was more pitched than (should be) possible. “What the hell did you do?! Who did this?!?”

Innocently, Mouseboy pointed to you, as if he had any right to be part of the blame game. “It was an accident, though,” he vouched (like that was supposed to make it better!). “I did the same thing when I woke up and saw myself an hour ago; you should have seen it, I broke five of those things! Talk about unlucky!”

He laughed. Han screeched, looking like The Scream. “YOU DID WHAT?!?!”

There was going to be a river running through the room by the time he finished sweating, pacing all over the place while nearly showering the floor and furniture with strands of blue hair. Mouseboy scratched his speckled-cheek, shifting to rest on the calves of his brown-clad work pants (He’d obviously been some kind of farm or errand boy before all this). “S-Sorry about that...it was an accident, really…” He bowed his head. “I-I can maybe get my boss to cover any property damage, but man, I’ll be working forever to pay it off…”

He sighed. You almost (almost) felt bad for him. But it was gonna take a lot more than just looking cute and pitiful to sway your emotions.

When at last he’d finished his...episode...Han stood from where he’d kneeled in prayer on the pinewood floor, swiping a hand over his face, shaking it off, and placing determined hands on his hips. “Okay,” he declared. “It’s alright. I’ll just have to convince Jeongin to pull an all-nighter and fix everything. Good thing he knows a thing or two about craftsmanship!”

Jeongin? …

You faltered, repeating the name curiously as you hopped off the dresser, now that the vermin crisis was over. Thankfully, your absent-mindedness didn’t cost you any cuts or bruises, seeing as there very well could have been shards of broken glass on the floor…

Han smiled your way, nodding. “Yeah, that’s right. We have a lot of introductions to get out of the way, so if you’re ready...well, you might want to get dressed first.”

Even more curiously, you looked down to examine yourself.

An eggshell, lace nightgown greeted your eyes.

… … … 

Who changed you...?!?!

| Six ❧

“Right, so,” said Han, pointing to each stranger in a misfit-lineup. “This is Seungmin, Jeongin, and...Felix, right? ...Yeah, okay, Felix.” He smiled, gesturing to you next. “Family, this is Y/n.”

Everyone either waved or bid you their own form of greeting, some shy, others more open. Now dressed in a sea-green gown with white-lace trim and possibly the most gaudy over exaggerated bow in the back (smaller, matching ones on your shoes and hair), you did your best to curtsey, though it was awkward and embellished to say the least, and really you’d just used it as an excuse to hike up your quarter-calf socks that refused to stay put. “Yeah, alright...nice to--”

“And this...is Hyunjin.”

The air got a little colder all of a sudden; both metaphorically and otherwise. You glanced up from rebuckling the annoying Mary Jane’s on your feet. Froze.

A tall, slender man stepped forward from where he’d been leaning against the wall beneath the cloak of shadow in the hallway. Now, stepping forward in the light of a grand, deserted chapel, his dark hair combed back by rough fingers pressed for time, he was…he was… 

He was staring at you as if you’d hung the moon in the sky. His eyes were so round and...big. Practically moons themselves.

“......” Han cleared his throat, voicing everyone else’s discomfort. “Yes, well...okay, then. This is great! See?!” He motioned to you as if you were some kind of showcase prize. “I brought her back, just like you asked! Now there’s no need to do anything rash or bloodthirsty! Hahah…hah…! …”

Everyone was strangely silent. Looking at each face in turn, though many were staring at you, none could look you in the eye; and no one dared to so much as peek in this Hyunjin fellow’s direction. In fact, the red-headed boy, Jeongin, seemed...almost...rather afraid.

“Hang on,” you interjected (though there was nothing but silence for sometime now). The gears in your mind cranked back to the letter folded messily on the nightstand: Lives are at stake. I need you to meet someone. “So you’re saying you brought me here because...your friend wanted me here?” You huffed. “I don’t understand. You said that lives were at stake. Who’s dying?” 

Quiet. A somber aura fell over the small gathering; maybe that had been a little brash of you to ask outright…

But you needed answers! Why were you here? What was going on? “...Han,” you said, and instantly the boy looked up at you. “Why did you bring me here? What’s going on? …” You scanned the other four faces of boys around you. “What did you mean when you said...I was…” You shook your head. Doubts were flooding in like a dam had just snapped. “This better not be a set up.”

...More quiet. Han cleared his throat once more, stepping back in line. He had no answers to give; his features only hardened. The other three boys in line were looking anywhere else-- the floor, the walls, the ceiling. Oh, look at that beautiful glass window up there. And look at that one!

Hyunjin just kept on staring at you as if staring right through you; like he couldn’t comprehend your existence. He was completely locked in a trance.

After you’d carefully righted yourself, and had just begun turning away to get the heck out of Dodge, it was Seungmin that spoke next. “You’ll have to forgive him,” he called, scratching his head. You turned around. “It’s been a while since any of us have seen another human being before, nonetheless one that isn’t cursed--”

Han flinched, just out of the corner of your eye. Twitch. “...Oh, you mean…”

Your eyes locked with Hyunjin’s, still stuck in outer space. Seungmin nodded. “Yeah...and as for him--” He flicked his eyes on Han. “He’s just stupid.”

“Hey!” The man protested. Seungmin simply rolled his eyes. 

“Well it’s true! I bet you failed to explain anything that’s going on to this poor girl. Just look at what you made her wear!” He gestured rather violently to your ridiculously (somewhat childish) outfit. “She looks like she stepped out of a dollhouse. The cheap, tacky kind they used to sell down the street at Aunt Marie’s.”

“Um, actually…” You scowled. “I dressed myself. There wasn’t much to go off of in the closet other than old-era gowns and...well, that was basically it. Speaking of which, though…”

You stomped forward. Everyone (minus Trancy) jumped. 

“Which one of you changed me before?! I don’t recall wearing or even owning some fancy nightgown before getting the lights shot out of me.”

Seungmin’s jaw slacked. “You drugged her too?!”

“Only because she was trying to escape!” Han griped. “I didn’t want to have to shoot her! Besides, it wasn’t like I used anything heavy…”

“Still,” Red-headed Jeongin said, siding with his buddy. “What would Hyunjin say if he weren’t lost in his thoughts again? And did you even consider Y/n?”

Han scoffed. “I brought her back, didn’t I? I’m pretty sure that’s all that matters.”

“Regardless,” Seungmin spoke, “You still basically brought her here against her will. That’s kidnapping. I’m pretty sure the curse isn’t going to--”

“Hello?!” you yelled, waving your arms. “I asked you all which one of you changed--! …”

Your eyes landed on Felix. The boy blinked, innocently processing, then bloomed another shade of rosy pink. “O-Oh, no…!” He waved his hands. “It wasn’t me, honest! I’ve been stuck as a mouse since last Tuesday! A-Also, you were already...I-I mean, I suppose if it wasn’t you, someone else had already…”

His voice trailed off; too modest, and he had a solid alibi. It couldn’t be him. In the background, Han and Seungmin were still arguing, with Jeongin occasionally chiming in to support Seungmin’s case.

“Let me guess,” Seungmin mused, arms crossed. “You probably stole them from Lady Verena down the road.”

Han made an urk! sound. Seungmin sighed.

“I knew it...no wonder she’s dressed so gaudy…” He and Jeongin turned to you with kind eyes. “Listen, Y/n. We’re really sorry about all this. If you need anything, from now on come to me or Jeongin. We’ll be sure to take care of you. Heck,” he grumbled, “even the new guy Felix could have done a better job…”

Felix smiled awkwardly. You and Han both fumed; for different reasons. “That’s not what I--!”

A low growl cut through the lowly-chaotic atmosphere. Everyone ceased their bickering.

The assumed head of the palace had awoken.

- ❧ -

He walked circles around you. Circles and circles and circles… 

You were starting to get more than a little dizzy.

“Fascinating…” Hyunjin mused. It was as if he were the only one in the room, and you were merely a lifeless figurine on display. While he spun himself into further insanity and far too strong curiosity, Seungmin and Jeongin both sent you sympathetic looks to “hang in there” and “just go with it.”

But you didn’t want to go with it. You wanted to go out-- away-- back home to the caravan, to the wagon that had Rei and Carrots and all your useless junk people gave life to, and you a profit. “I’m sorry,” your voice cut the mostly vacant air, save for the headmaster’s mumbling and strangely heavy breathing. “Am I missing something here? If you like or...don’t like my outfit, just tell me and I can either say “thank you” or change and we can all move on to more important topics, like, say...why I’m here? What’s going on?!”

Hyunjin froze a quarter of the way to facing you from the left, his brown eyes strangely wide (though really, everything about this man was strange). In the back, Seungmin and Jeongin once again made faces attuning to the atmosphere; in this case, nervous frowning.

They were all treating Hyunjin like some sort of ticking time bomb. Han obviously feared and weirdly resented him, it was plain and simple on his face, and even Felix was picking up something about this guy that you couldn’t sense. When he wasn’t distracted by colorful art or the dirt under his nails, he was sending highly strung vibes his way.

...In all honesty, you weren’t sure why you didn’t just walk out. Nothing was stopping you...really. There was a clear path from here to the great big hallway Han had escorted you down, Felix in tow, and from there a million other doors, all leading to someplace that had to be better than here. One of them-- at least five, or ten-- had to lead to some winding hallway that would take you to the great outdoors.

Just when you’d thought to inquire further on that, Hyunjin finally began speaking, and not mumbling. “You appear to be real…but…”

He closed the (little) distance he’d given you in a single stride, and without warning placed both his hands on your shoulders...very...tentatively. Then, he trailed his fingers up to your cheeks.

You latched onto his wrists, on instinct. A synchronized gasping chorus filled the room like a daytime tragedy soundtrack.

But Hyunjin did nothing, if not for widening his eyes yet again to stare into the depth of your face like he was amazed at your reaction. Like it wasn’t normal or something.

“Hyunjin,” spoke Seungmin, “perhaps it would do you well to give the girl-- Miss Y/n-- her space. She is a human, just like the...er...ahem.”

...That was a sour note.

“Actually…”

All eyes were on Han except yours. Even Hyunjin snapped out of his trance to glare skeptically with concern, with Seungmin having to carefully pull him away so you could stop smelling his pungent breath.

“...Ahaha...ahahahahaha…” ...Han wilted. “I sorta...maybe...well, okay, I didn’t do it, but--”

“What did you do?” Hyunjin spoke. All eyes flew to him, then back at Han in anticipation. Like some sort of thriller novel. The daytime tragedy continued. Maybe you were in a tragic play of some sort, and there was a hidden audience just waiting to jump out and announce that you’d officially been pranked.

“………” He took a breath. “TheWitchcursedhertoo…!”

And then he covered his mouth, wincing moments too soon. 

The decaying chapel gasped. Hyunjin’s face turned hard, then slowly, bewitchingly, menacing.

“She did what?!”

Jeongin’s eyes went wide. “Y-You’ve been cursed too?” he asked, mournfully, almost with pity. Everyone appeared to display a sadness teetering on the edge between fear and hopelessness.

It was insane how quickly the airspace had shifted; though nothing normal had happened yet, everything had at least been more or less steady. Now, it was as if the room had been thrown off its hinges at the mention of the woman...the Witch. Which you were hoping had been a dream, but seeing as Felix was here, and Han bringing it up...definitely not.

Han whimpered; actually whimpered, like a child being scolded for breaking a vase. “I-It was an accident, honest!” He begged. “She didn’t know she was headed into the Witch’s Biome, and I lost track of her! BY ACCIDENT! When I found her, I swear I did everything I could to protect her, honest! Th-That’s where I met Felix, though I didn’t know he was really human at the time...and I brought them both back here.”

Seungmin made a curious face of urgency, almost seeming to sweat as he crossed diagonally forward to move you back, even going so far as to stand in front of you as a shield while Jeongin took care of Felix, tugging the mouse-turned-boy’s twine-sewn sleeve to take shelter behind some discarded pews.

What happened next wasn’t a dream, but surely a thing of nightmares. Right in league with the Witch’s hideout.

There was a swirling mass of black and deep red as something foreign and sinister took hold of the feared so-called Master of the House. Hyunjin began to grow bigger. Sharp, pointed fangs protruded from tight chapped lips pulled back in a snarl. His eyes told of hunger, bloodshot. Pitched daggers made of shadow and bone formed and crystalized along his fingertips.

You lost your voice. You could barely breathe. You weren’t even sure how you were able to stand.

“Hyunjin,” Seungmin warned, a sternness to his voice. “Think about what you’re doing. Y/n is here.”

Hyunjin growled, no longer a man anymore but some sort of...foul, hideous beast. He bore murderous eyes at Han. “I don’t care,” he growled, “I’m going to—!”

“You’re scaring her.”

… … …

That seemed to get his attention. Though the same couldn’t be said about yours; for though you stood still, frozen in time and space, your wandering mind was making a break for recalling the nearest exit. An empty, dizzying numbness choked your thoughts.

Hyunjin...if he could even be called that anymore...glared at you with wide, mournful eyes. Eyes full of fear and insecurity. Doubt. A horrible realization.

In the blink of an eye-- for you literally just had to blink-- he was back to normal. He stood apprehensively still, the rage and miasma gone, staring a hole into your Mary Janes. Perhaps staring at the reflection back at him.

Though he stood impossibly still, his voice gave him away in slight, wavering cracks. “...Forget what you just saw. It was merely an illusion. A trick of the light.”

“Uuuuh,” Felix interrupted. “P-Pretty sure that wasn’t-- mmph!”

Jeongin gave him a silencing, terrified eye. “Shhh!”

“......” With a passive grunt, Hyunjin continued. This time his eyes were directly on you; a wave of nervous energy pooled over your skin. “Dinner is at six p.m. sharp.” he said. “You will be there. ...We will have an encore of introductions, no...an entire reestablishment.” He turned his head viciously over his shoulder. The boy his eyes landed on squeaked. 

“Han,” he uttered. The said boy bit his lip. 

“Y-Yes…?”

Hyunjin deadpanned, in the most unamused, lifeless way. “Come.”

“Ahahahah, a-actually-- whAAA!”

A vase at the far end of the room shattered. Literally exploded, a few shards lodging themselves into innocently bystanding portraits and landscapes. When your attention strayed back, you could see Hyunjin had thrown something.

Han quickly bowed, visibly starting to sweat all over again. After a tense moment he stood, saying in the softest voice, barely a whisper, his agreement. 

Then, wringing the rings on his fingers, he nervously followed him out.

| Seven ❧

Dinner was set to be at six p.m. Attendance was apparently a requirement, given the formal invite Felix slipped beneath your door, turned back to a mouse once more (something about moonlight turning him into a...weremouse? ...The rules of his curse were rather complicated).

However, that didn’t mean that you had to be there.

“...And so that’s how I became a real boy again!” The mouse cheered, setting off a small party steamer Jeongin had granted him to lift his spirits. His tiny rodent eyes crinkled in delight as he beamed up at you from the dining table of your guest room, where the two of you were currently seated. You twitched your nose in timing with his, having stared at him and his life-story-since-last-Tuesday for far too long.

You shifted your weight to the other cheek. “So, really, all you had to do was make contact with sunlight. But you were too scared and kept to the shadows all this time.”

“Precisely! At least, I think that’s how it works!” He plopped down, digging some...cheese crumbs out of his coat. “That, and the old hasbeen wouldn’t let me leave every time I tried. Do you know when the last time I saw the sun was?! Go on, guess!”

“...Last Tuesday?”

He looked at you with wide-eyes, paws shoved up his piehole. He took a few minutes to chew and swallow. “...Oh, you’re good. No wonder you’re the chosen one to break everyone’s curse!”

You huffed, snorted really, leaning back to cross your arms in thought. A movie reel spun its way around your brain, projecting the late afternoon’s events on a white screen:

…Hyunjin’s retreating figure left some sort of impression in your mind, and Han seemed to vanish like ink washed off of a page. The moment they’d both gone, your knees buckled beneath you, hands hitting the cold pavement. Seungmin was down to your level in an instant, with Jeongin and Felix scurrying around pews, bits of rubble and broken glass.

“Y/n, are you alright? …” Seungmin asked, reaching out to you. He paused briefly to think. “...I’m going to check your pulse,” he announced.

As his fingers found their way around your wrist, Jeongin flanked to your other side with a first aid kit he’d salvaged from who-knew-where. Felix kept his distance, wringing his cap the way Han had wrung the rings on his fingers, but one look at his face told you he was just as concerned for your health as the others…he simply didn’t know what to do.

“Here, put this on her!”

“I’m alright,” you mumbled, pushing away an ice pack with sloth. Jeongin gave you a distasteful glare of sorts. 

“But you nearly fainted--!”

“I’m fine...really.”

“......”

Everyone laid off after that. 

Which you took as your cue to exit. In your retreating haste, albeit, you failed to see the sorrowful eyes that followed your fleeting back; but you could feel them, and it wouldn’t be long until they found a voice to stand upon.

“Come on, Felix,” you said. “I’ll see what I can do to get you home. I don’t know where you originally came from, but if it’s anywhere near Westwind, my friend and I can give you a lift.” ...It was the least you could do, after all. Felix hadn’t done anything wrong; he wasn’t the one that kidnapped you, or put a “curse” on you, which you weren’t even sure was real, by the way. Sure, some crazy stuff happened, but you didn’t feel any different. What if Han and the Witch and that Hyunjin guy were really all in kahoots, and this was just some kind of crazy...outrageous propaganda stunt?

Jeongin continued to stare, now in an incredulous manner. “Y/n…”

“Let her go,” Seungmin insisted, lowering Jeongin’s hand. The boy grasped the air weakly, the pulsing of his fingers mocking his faintly beating heart, breaths shallow and longing, feebly succumbing to trembles. It would have been painful to watch, had you known him better.

Felix, keeping a low profile as best he could in such tense situation, removed the beret he’d just finished placing back on his head, squeezing it before him. “...A-Alright,” he agreed after a moment. He paced over gradually at first, then broke into a nervous, jagged jog as he scuttled to your side. “Thanks…”

You smiled to hide the fear and insanity of what you’d just witnessed before. A man turning into a beast— a boy becoming like a shadow— everything that had happened up until now; it was just a dream, Y/n. A bad propaganda stunt. “Don’t mention it.” You turned over your shoulder. “...It was nice meeting you.”

Seungmin smiled, bitterly so, as Jeongin closed in on himself. “Same to you. Please, take care. I apologize for any trouble we caused you.”

With a nod, your footsteps echoed into the once-lavish corridor, Felix trailing nervously behind you. But then…

Those sorrowful eyes found their voice. “Wait, Y/n! Please, don’t go yet!” Someone was running after you. “Please stay, just for dinner at least! Please!!!”

...Your footsteps faded. Waiting.

“Please, Y/n…” Jeongin paused some ten feet away, falling to his knees to beg. “Cursed or not, only you can break the spell. I know how this must look to an outsider like yourself, but what Han said to you before in his letter...I’m sorry but I pried before he left it. He’s right. You’re one of us now. But you’re also you. And only you can save him. We…” His voice trailed off, eyes following, focusing on something in his hands...a locket of some sort? “...We gave up on ourselves a long time ago. But as weird and annoying and frustrating as he is, we made a promise to never, ever give up on Hyunjin. Like it or not he’s our boss, and our dearest friend. He’s been good to us for so many years...after all he’s done, we at least need to save him!” His eyes searched for yours, gripping his hands tightly, pleading, crying out with anguish and hope. “It might be too late, but we have to try! We can’t do anything like this...only you can save him. Please, Y/n…”

You’d been paying attention this whole time, but it was just now that you were starting to see: something dark and lively wrapping its way around Jeongin’s neck, then his right cheek. It was like a tattoo, only...alive. And moving. Black vines with thorns and heart-shaped leaves mapped their way across half the boy’s face, finally tangling into his bright, unnaturally red hair that sploched into ebony black, the color of Rei’s hair, only darker maybe, and then…

He began to fade. “...Please help him. He’s not as bad as he seems, honest! Please say you’ll stay and save him!”

...After that, Seungmin ran over and gave Jeongin some kind of shot that turned him back to normal and stopped him from disappearing, but…

What were you supposed to do when he started crying like that?! You weren’t expecting the waterworks…

Because you were both nice people, you and Felix hurried back to help, too, though all the two of you could really do was run circles around each other and agree to stay for just a bit longer. Just until dinner, you’d repeated. So we have the strength to travel.

...You would go to dinner. Really, the plan had been to just send Felix down. That wouldn’t do, though, now that you thought about it... Well, then, you certainly weren’t staying; you’d simply pop in to make sure that Jeongin kid was still alive, grab a roll or two, and then you’d be off to the nearest motel or campsite, because you certainly weren’t spending a night here. Come morning, you and hopefully Felix could hurry back to Westwind and after you took the boy home, or someplace close, you could get back to a normal life traveling and selling wares and running away from fate and customs.

“I’m pretty sure it’s just Hyunjin I’m supposed to fix,” you mumbled, getting back to the small conversation. You never thought in a hundred years you’d be sitting down in some old castle out in the middle of nowhere, talking to a rat (that was really a person, but still). Your eyes scanned the window beside you, out into the foggy gray beyond where nothing but trees and old abandoned buildings greeted you, lifeless along the horizon.

Mouse Felix was still stuffing his face with crumbs of cheddar and swiss. He seemed to have found some bread crust to pair with the former ensemble. “I mean, I guess. I think I heard that one guy, Seungmin, mention something about it being for everyone though? Or I could have just been hearing things…” He swallowed, stacking another small tower. “Wow, I’ve never had such an appetite until last Tuesday…”

“......” You rolled your eyes, counterproductive to your set jaw. How the heck were you supposed to save anyone? Why you, of all people?

That annoying chant the Witch had said replayed in your mind...maybe, if you could decipher it, you’d have some answers...how did it go, exactly…?

When sunrise comes and all is lost, Look upon the oldtown cross There you’ll find just what you seek This aging woman’s prophecy

Sunrise. So when the sunrise came...but, lost? What was lost?

A cross? You surveyed the area, but you didn’t see anything like that.

What you seek...was this you, or was you someone else? What was it you, or they, were looking for? You just wanted to go home…

...All you got from the last part was that this witch was crazy. Then, the rest went something like… But if yet still you manage to bend And find and seek what storm’s may rend May fortunes smile and bring you light For the many remaining days of your life

Okay, seriously, what were you bending?! This had to be metaphorical. So bend...what, your will? Heart? Find a loophole somewhere?

Were you finding what was lost? Would you find it if you found a loophole? Or had a change of heart?

Fortunes would smile upon you...something good would come.

For the rest of your days…

…You smacked your head against the table, startling poor Felix. Who were you kidding?! You’d already decided, that old hermit in the woods was crazy. Trying to translate some old ramblings was a waste of time…!

...And effective in giving you a headache. You groaned, massaging your temples as Felix detangled himself from your locks to scamper a safe distance away. 

“Y/n? Are you alright?”

“...Yeah. Fine.”

“...You don’t sound fine. You sound like Chan when he’s had a long night working on a new project and drank more coffee than he got work done. And I don’t think he even likes coffee.”

You turned your head. “Who’s that?”

Felix smiled. The only mouse that knew how to. “My boss, sort of. We both work for an entertainment company, at least...I did, before this happened.” He regarded himself sadly. “Ever since last Tuesday--”

You groaned again. “Urgh, I know, I get it already! Last Tuesday may as well be your catchphrase at this point.”

“...Sorry.”

“......” You peeked back at him, flicking a crumb of cheese his way. It seemed to take away all his problems like a one-way train. You sat up, grinning just a little at how cute he looked, nimbling innocently. The only rodent you’d ever find to be cute. “...Tell me more about it. About Chan, was it? And this entertainment company of yours. I honestly thought you were a farmer.”

“A farmer?” He thought. “Oh...yeah, my clothes! I grew up on a farm, and our company is relatively small. I just threw those on when I went exploring the woods.”

“And what were you doing exploring the forest on your own?”

“Uh...well,” he blushed. “I’ll tell you about Chan and the company first.”

His small, yet surprisingly bass voice carried on into the dimly-lit atmosphere. Maybe you just needed to take your mind off things. You were getting too wound up in something you weren’t even committed to being a part of. Once you saw Jeongin was okay, you’d be forgetting all about this place. So for now, you just needed to relax.

And who knew mice told such fabulous, intricate stories?

| Eight ❧

“Hyunjin, please…!”

Crash!

Another mirror. Terrific.

After their departure from the old art gala, Hyunjin had led the two to one of the many old studies that lied grungy and muted like the rest of the palace. In the circular room resided one dusty old curtain over a weathering window, a few bookshelves chalked with books likely to never be read again, a small table with various junk, a chair, another chair, a small loveseat, a slightly larger small grandfather clock...and a calendar with much angry scribbling, stains, and tears.

“Hyunjin, Jeongin can only fix so many mirrors at once...you know how this all works…you break a mirror, something in the castle vanishes. Then I take the heat for it!” 

The beast growled. “You don’t think I know that? Are you talking back to me right now?”

Han flinched. If he were human, surely he would have died from a thousand ulcers and the tight sensations of horrid anxiety by now… “N-Not by any means...Hyunjin,” With gritted teeth, he bowed his head. “Please, listen to me for a second. Let me explain.”

“Oh, that you will,” the beast grumbled. He gracefully spun himself into a red velvet chair, lifting another looking glass from the small table beside it in order to glare at himself broodingly. It made the small hairs of Han’s neck stand yielding, doing a little dance of anxiety. 

“V-Very well,” He said, standing back up straight. He gave an awkward glance at the broken mirror shards before deciding he’d better start talking his way out of another beating, and clean up later. “Our journey begins in the outskirts of Westwind city--”

Hyunjin raised his right arm, the mirror held precariously in the balance. “Too far.”

“NO DON’T!”

...Phew.

Removing the handheld treasure from the prince’s hand, his shadow took a few steps back, peering into it. Watching the door and bookshelf behind him, as shadows had no reflection. “...I traveled around...out yonder, just as you asked. Just like I said I would. I let the wind and my intuition, my hope, guide me, and within less than a day’s travel I came upon Westwind city. That’s where I found her, just outside the gates...she was accompanied by another, a young woman of close age. They looked too different to be related, so I assume it was a friend, or maybe a distant...distant relative. Anyway--”

Hyunjin sighed.

“...Anyway, I--”

“How did you know she was the one? And so close? So close to our village...it seems too good to be true. And I thought you said she was lying dormant somewhere.”

Han blinked, eyes flitting forward. A bead of sweat rolled down the side of his face. It took all his willpower not to flinch or show anymore signs of weakness. “W-Well, yes, she was, but uh...she escaped?”

“Oh really?”

“Yes. And so, I put her to the test.” 

Hyunjin narrowed his eyes. “You put her to the test? What does that mean?”

“I quizzed her. I knocked on the door of her heart...and she ignored me quite a few times, but eventually, I got in. In exchange for a favor.”

“What favor?”

Han smiled with pride. “I’d saved her friend’s life. Or...distant, distant relative. After that, I asked her carefully, very seriously, of her thoughts.”

“...About…?”

“The curse.”

“You told her outright about the curse?!”

Seeing as Hyunjin was near fuming, Han turned on the sprinklers, fanning his arms about. “No, no! Not outright! I was very tricky! I used lots of metaphors and figuratively-speakings! She had no idea to the core of the matter, really!” ...And anyway, did it even matter anymore? Y/n was well aware by now she wasn’t exactly in Kansas anymore...

“......” Hyunjin relaxed back in his chair. “So, what did she say?”

Han searched the dusty floorboards for a minute, before slowly twisting the mirror 180 degrees. “Well, sir, it was what I said first. I asked her…”

- ❧ -

“A man, or a beast? As individuals, do we have a choice?”

“...I’m sorry...I don’t understand the question.”

“Hmm…” Han thought. “...Imagine you were put under a...spell. A spell that turned you into a hideous monster, with fangs and claws and fur in places you’d never imagined...but it comes and goes, this curse of yours.” He tilted his head. “Are you still human? Or are you now a beast? Well?”

“...I...I don’t know,” you confessed, listing your gaze aside. “I really have no idea where you got such a crazy idea from.”

“Okay...then let me ask you this. I’ll help you out.”

He leaned forward this time. “Do you think we have a choice? Is it possible to define ourselves as one or the other?”

“Well...yes, I would think so.” Your eyes met his. “We all have a choice— to be monsters, or men. It is not a matter of blood, or a spell, but a condition of the heart.”

- ❧ -

Hyunjin leaned forward in his chair, eyes wide as saucers.

This time, he knew it, too. But he didn’t care how he must have looked. That fear died a long time ago, having stared at the many faces of Hwang Hyunjin over the years.

He simply couldn’t believe it. It really was true, then. It had to be her. The girl that would solve all his problems…!

...For the record, one should never put all their faith into one person in regards of “solving problems” or “fixing them,” but this was different. In this case, this girl really was the answer to lifting the curse plaguing his home and body for so many moons, so many long, hard-watched seasons…

And she was going to be having dinner with him. Not only that, but he only had a handful of hours left until it was all over, and everything set into stone.

The door behind Han slammed open, Seungmin entering the stage and stealing his spotlight like he normally did. Even before the curse, the boy who’d been his father’s auditor-in-training was always bursting in to bask in the limelight with his savvy knowledge, goody-two-shoes this and boring document question that.

He swears this was never the case, but Hyunjin knew better. “Do you mind? I’m having a discussion with--”

“Not now.”

“Excuse me?” Seungmin was rummaging around the room, spreading knick-knacks around, tossing books off shelves after quickly examining covers or flipping through a few pages, even going so far as to demand that Hyunjin stand so he could upturn all the seat cushions. “What are you doing?”

The boy genius frowned. “Jeongin had an episode after Y/n almost left. He—”

Hyunjin found himself shaking the boy in the next second. “Did he stop her?!”

“...Shouldn’t you be asking if he’s alright first?”

Hyunjin just continued to stare. Seungmin rolled his eyes.

“Yes, I was going to say, he managed to stop her. I did say almost left. By the way, Jeongin’s in peril right now, so if you could be so kind as to release me, I’d like to get back to ensuring his safety as soon as possible.”

As soon as Hyun dropped him, the boy got right back to work; tearing the room apart. Han pursed his lips.

“He had an episode? Did you give him a shot?”

The boy sighed. “Yes, but I’ve told you both before they’re only temporary. I’m looking for lavender oil, and the vine clippers. I don’t remember the original recipe to stop the ebb and flow, but I think I can make a close replacement from what I’ve read in the past.” He glanced over his shoulder a moment. “What were you getting so hot under the collar about, anyway? Is this about Y/n? Being cursed?”

Shoot, by the day, that was right. He was still angry about that. What if Han had blown it? What if this Y/n was defective now because she’d been touched by the Witch’s mad hand?

Oh, he was so going to get it if…!

“Eeek!” Han shrieked, already knowing what was to come. “Dammit, don’t remind him of that! I had just managed to get on his good side!”

Seungmin rolled his eyes again. “You’re never on his good side. All you two do is bicker and fight and run from or after each other until you’ve become one with the walls and he passes out from anger or resentment or both. ...Ah!” He smiled. “Found the clippers. Now for that oil…”

“Forget the oil!” Hyunjin roared. “We don’t have time for this! Ahh…!” He gritted both hands in his hair, looking out the window, up at the old miniature grandfather clock. “Time’s running out. Since she’s the one, we may still have a chance. Cursed or not we only have three days...two days…!”

It was at this point that Seungmin made a quizzical expression, pausing in his endeavors to pace rather calmly over to the calendar, checking the date. “...The anniversary of your curseday isn’t until next month. You have a whole season, almost.”

A...season?

“Let me see that,” Hyunjin demanded, shoving the kid aside. He peered anxiously at the line up, the rows of weeks in the calendar month that said… … …

Seungmin was right. He’d misread the date, in all his anxious spite.

He had until the next season. Until the first snowfall. Starting tomorrow, his clock would begin.

...Oh, who was he kidding?! His clock started tonight; with dinner.

In a tizzy, his whole attitude changed. No longer was he a grumpy, repulsive, bitter soul trapped in a cursed body. Mindlessly resenting his father, his past actions, the old beggar who’d shown up on his doorstep. He was a nervous young man about to have his first date in what felt like forever, because truthfully, it had been. “What am I going to wear?! ...Oh my gosh, she saw me transform…!” Horror filled his lungs with a ragged breath, hands flying to sunken cheeks. “I can’t let her see me now! But I have to! I have to break the curse...I mean, she has to break the curse! But what if--!”

“Hyunjin!” Han clamped his mouth shut. A bold move for someone that was normally terrified of him. “Calm down! I think that’s step one!” He looked around while Seungmin continued his search. “Step two would be...uh…”

“Finding an appropriate outfit?” Seungmin offered. Han beamed.

“YES, finding an appropriate outfit! Genius!”

Again, the boy rolled his eyes. “Yeah, who would have thought…?”

“C’mon!” The two flew past him, Hyunjin too preoccupied with his previous behavior, overwhelmed by too many truths, to even-- …

He rushed back into the room. “Did you say Jeongin was--?!”

“Let’s go,” Han ordered, yanking the househead by the collar. Leaving Seungmin alone to his bumbling foragery.

My, how times quickly changed.

| Nine ❧

Another spaghetti noodle found its way into Felix’s hair, alongside a half-eaten slice of garlic bread. 

In the great dining hall, chandeliers hung like clouds in a desecrated chamber, all covered in dust and cobwebs. A long, very long table stretched from one end of the wide room to the other, all set with dining ware meant to feed the entire Royal Family and their second cousins. A rainbow of food covered the crimson-draped platform, starting with English scones and biscuits on one end and ending with an Italian pot of gold on the other, complete with pastas, pizza, and a basket of garlic bread nestled to Felix’s right, who was seated at the table’s end. All along the walls sat candles lit with a hazy tint, casting shadows like lingering ghosts, light dancing across the faces of those present.

You slid your hand down one side of your face, safely hidden amongst the confines of two large chambers doors with one slightly askew. Good grief. You were simply waiting on Jeongin to show, to ascertain he was alright; until then, it was Felix’s one job to stall. What on earth was that foolish mouseboy doing shoving food in his hair?!

Seungmin, seated to the absent head’s left, and the only other soul in the room, cleared his throat loudly enough to be heard over the cultural expansion of what was meant to be one supper. “Felix!” he called, “Might I ask why you’re storing food on your persons? You’re...not a mouse at the moment.”

Unfortunately it didn’t reach far enough, as Felix continued to store and gobble down food. “Mm… What’d you say, cuz?”

Seungmin frowned. “I said,” he repeated, raising his voice, “you’re not a mouse anymore!”

Felix blinked, pausing red-handed while sliding a breadstick into his shirt pocket. “...Aren’t I?” He examined himself. “...Oh.” He blushed. “I suppose you did give me one of those fancy needles, didn’t you? I’m not used to being a real boy at this hour.”

Seungmin sunk back into his seat; a sigh.

Oh, but for Pete’s sake, where was Jeongin?! Seungmin could at least mention his current condition, so you could skedaddle your way to the nearest exit with a salad to-go. Better yet, some pasta and a pound of those chicken tenders sounded all the better…

No, no Y/n! Now was not the time to be thinking about food...even if it’d been a while since you last ate...more like a day…

...Ooooooh...pizza and...shrimp cocktail…

A pile of desserts rested center stage. Was that German chocolate you were seeing...?

“So,” Seungmin called. “Will Y/n be joining us this evening?”

Your attention snapped back to reality. Felix shook his head alongside tearing into a drumstick. “‘Fraid not,” he replied.

“Mm…” the other boy nodded. “...May I ask why? Is she feeling alright?”

Felix paused again. Forgetting the pasta and German chocolate, you pressed yourself against the closed door in order to be as close as possible, ear resting just next to the shaded chandelier and candlelight. 

Just like we practiced, Felix. Come on, just like we rehearsed.

“Uuuh,” Felix stammered. “Th-That’s…”

His head listed aside in thought. Ugh! No, what was he doing?! 

Felix chewed much longer than he needed to while racking his mouse-sized brain for an answer. Your fingertips pressed into old polished wood, silently begging the boy to remember what you’d just discussed twenty minutes ago.

Remember...think, dang it!

Suddenly, he swallowed. “Oh!”

Seungmin shook his head, as if waking up from a trance. “Yes?”

Felix grinned, probably with salad or something stuck in his teeth. “Y/n will not be attending this dilatory gathering due to a symptom...of her curse, that makes her quite drowsy at this late hour!”

Chink...! That was the sound of your hope cracking like a broken mirror. That sounded totally rehearsed! The lie was supposed to be that your curse made you tired and you didn’t want to be disturbed. It was perfect, since you knew one of them would insist on butting in to see for themselves, but surely would respect a young lady’s wishes to be left alone…

Though it was hard to see that far, Seungmin appeared to be grinding gears in his mind to make sense of such a suspiciously wordy sentence when, heaven’s to Betsy, the door at the far side opened, and in came a blue-haired shadow. It was the only way you knew how to describe him; he was simply put, like ink off a rain-washed page… “Wassup?!” He announced, swinging out the right-side chair.

Seungmin deadpanned, appearing to squint just slightly. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Ink-boy dropped a handful of rolls onto his plate. “...Like wha— oh!”

He leapt for the door again. Seungmin rolled his eyes (something he seemed to do a lot), dabbing the sides of his mouth before placing the cloth back over his lap. “Yeah. Oh.”

At the far end of the room, Han held both hands raised, as if he were a magician about to reveal a magic trick. “May I present to you, Felix, His Royal Highness, Prince of Everain Palace, Ruler of Finance, Master of Trade, Prosperer of...prospering, President Hwang’s birthright successor of the greatest industry of all time, Hyun— …”

Crickets. 

You couldn’t visibly see it, but you knew it was there: a single drop of sweat that rolled down the side of Han Jisung’s face, as he stood frozen, one hand hovering over the engraved door handle.

“Ha...hahaha…” He did his best to smile. “...Wh-Where’s Y/n?”

Felix bobbed his head, holding up a finger while finishing off a bite of lasagna. “Mm...one second mate…” He dabbed the corners of his mouth like Seungmin had done, taking his time to tuck and fold the elaborate cloth upon his lap. 

Han twitched. Felix surely smiled, taking a painfully slow inhale.

“Y/n will not be attending this dilabitory...dilatory gathering due to a...symptom?...yeah, a symptom of her curse, that makes her quite drowsy at this late hour!”

… …

“She whAT?!?!”

You sighed. While Han had another spastic encounter with the dust-coated floor, Seungmin hollered and tried beating the boy out of it with various hard-mattered foods, the two falling into the same bickering as they had before. Felix continued to happily stuff his face like nothing was bothering him. And you, idly residing in the cold hallway, still had no idea how Jeongin was. Not a word.

Sliding your back down the door, you pursed your lips, lightly smacking two fingers over your wrist; better check yourself before you wreck yourself, just in case.

Fifty-eight...fifty-nine...sixty. Yep, normal.

But the marking on your wrist wasn’t. 

You jumped back, hitting the door and causing the noise outside to dip for a moment before returning to...what was currently normal. You covered your right wrist with the opposite hand. Held your breath. Counted to three.

Removing your fingers, slowly, something sinister stared back at you. Something...elaborate, foreign, but distinguished. Some sort of...strange dome shape, a mark made of...ink, maybe, resembling a chapel window. Or a door, perhaps?  

Upon closer inspection, in the faint light from the other room, it seemed to pulse with...some kind of...energy… … 

...When sunrise comes, and all is lost… Hmm… 

Fwoosh!

You snapped your head back, peering through the sliver of dancing light. The far door ricocheted against its adjacent wall; an ambrosial aroma wafting through the air. The candlelight...illuminated...

...A beastly man with silky black hair.

- ❧ -

You’re pretty sure you heard a noodle slip off the fork wound tightly in Felix’s hand, who nearly dropped it all the same. 

There he was; the man who’d become a monster and nearly murdered Han just hours ago, right before your eyes. The black and red miasma, honed claws, sharp teeth; all of it came flooding back to your mind like a tidal wave. 

The sudden drop in temperature made you long for candle warmth, yet flee farther into the shadows of the empty hall. Seungmin paused with a scone held once proudly and threateningly in the air, now placed delicately on his plate as he nervously slid back into his seat. Han, once choking on a fistful of salad mix, managed to wash it down and did the same, quickly and quietly so after pulling out the beastman’s seat.

Hyunjin sat down with vigor, the legs of his chair scraping harshly to the floor. He made a peculiar face, something like embarrassment albeit just a second, before hiding it behind the fluffing of his napkin and folding it onto his lap. Then he made a fleeting...was that nervous?...glance straight head, to the far opposite end of the table.

The candlelight seemed almost hesitant to cast it’s erratic glow upon the prince’s face. When his eyes met a head of orange hair, he froze, glaring. Hotly. “Where is Y/n?”

“The million dollar question,” Seungmin mumbled. It managed to echo, along with the kick beneath the table and following hiss escaping his lips a moment later. 

Hyunjin snorted, turning his gaze back to Felix. “I said,” he repeated. “Where is Y/n?”

“Yes, I heard you loud and clear, cuz,” Felix replied with an OK sign. “Gimme just a sec...ahem!”

You (silently) banged your head against the solid matter before you. Oh, sweet stars, please no…

“Y/n will not be attending this—”

“She’s not feeling well, Your Grace,” Seungmin interrupted. Phew. “Apparently she’s rather ill as a side effect from whatever curse the Witch gave her. She’s resting in the same guest room upstairs.”

Yes! Now, someone mention Jeongin’s name so you could leave with a clear conscious!

Hyunjin blinked. “Go get her, then.”

… Huh?

Seungmin nearly swallowed wrong, apparently thinking the same thing. “I’m sorry?”

Hyunjin, again, snorted. “I said, go get her. It’s rude to keep everyone waiting, especially royalty.”

Felix, who had long started his meal prior to anyone’s arrival, stopped and hurriedly shoved any evidence under a spare napkin from the empty seat beside him. “Ahaha, yes, right! Waiting…! …” 

He awkwardly wiped his hands clean. Seungmin frowned. “Hyunjin…”He placed his fork down. “She’s sick. Resting. And after today, I don’t blame her for wanting to be left alone right now…” He eyeballed Felix a moment, leaning in with a hushed voice. “Remember, you have more time now...it’s better to be patient. Let her adjust first.” He turned back toward his meal. “I got the hint from Felix’s message, she wants to be left alone. Everyone’s already started eating, anywa—”

“That’s enough!”

The room swiftly grew colder. You shivered, ducking your head even if you technically weren’t present in the dining atmosphere. Oh, greif.

Hyunjin slammed his hands on the table, rocking himself upwards. “If you’re just going to back talk and give me excuses, I’ll get her myself!”

He made his way toward you, crossing the dining room on Han’s side in angry strides towards the vaguely slitted door.

Gasping, you bit your lip hard, frantically searching for a place to hide; but there was nothing. No furniture or randomly placed junk littered the path leading to the great hall. Could you outrun him, maybe? Would it make a sound? How good was his hearing? Did beastmen have the same sensitive hearing capabilities as a wolf, or a fox?

“Pardon me!”

You whirled around, witnessing the brave, possibly last, antics of Felix the Mouse...boy. His whole aura radiated positive, jittering energy, hopping lightly from one foot to the next as he put his old entertainment skills to use, all for your sake.

Hyunjin grunted, having been stopped in his tracks. He glared down heatedly. “What is it? You’re in my way.”

Felix saluted him. “Right on, bro! ...Except, that…”

You held your breath. Put on a good show, Felix. Or, better yet, ask him about Jeongin. That’s all I need to—

“...I need to pee. Mind showing me where the bathroom is?”

… … 

Oh…he just had to...go… 

You deflated like a popped balloon. Of course.

After staring almost incredulously at Felix, like trying to understand his existence, Hyunjin made some sort of irritated noise you assumed all beastmen made, shoved him aside, and continued his striding. 

You made it as far as a few paces from the first available turn before a cold voice stopped you.

“Just where do you think you’re going?”

Urk! … 

...You really should have just looked for Jeongin yourself.

| Ten ❧

“Where’s Jeongin?”

The room had long ago settled into an uncomfortable silence. Bitterly, you shoved a stuffed olive into your mouth, letting the salty tang of the brined fruit coax over your tongue before shivering from the sensation.

You were getting drowsy. But that also could have been from the wine Han insisted on pouring for you, and you being stressed and unsure if an evening around a beastman would be at all possible without the effects of alcohol, accepted.

You were seated across from the beast now, in Felix’s place. The boy being forced to your right...until the effects of whatever had made him a boy again wore off. As of ten minutes ago, he was a rodent yet again, nested happily in the garlic bread basket. You squinted eyes at him over your wine glass.

You totally failed the mission. Be grateful I’m having a hard time staying mad at you. And that you can safely ingest garlic.

“Why do you wish to know?”

Hyunjin’s voice boomed across the grand hall, in no more than a calm rejoinder. How he could speak so lowly and yet fill an entire hall was beyond your drunkenly buzzing comprehension.

“I just want to know,” you simply replied. “Where is he?”

Hyunjin didn’t respond. Instead, Seungmin cleared his throat, excusing himself from the room.

“Wait,” You stood. “Where are you going?”

The boy awkwardly shifted his gaze from you to the door. Hyunjin suddenly stood as well. “Why do you want to know? Why are you asking so many questions?”

“Okay, okay,” Han dabbed at his face, easing the beast back into his seat, and motioning for you to do the same. “Everyone take it easy. Y/n, please excuse Seungmin, he has many responsibilities here. Hyunjin...Your Princeliness,” he corrected, “why don’t you have some more wine? I think we all just need to have a nice long drink and—”

“Be quiet,” Hyunjin ordered, scooting himself in. His shadow didn’t need to be told twice, turning back to his dinner with a small eye roll.

Steadily, with caution, you lowered yourself back into your seat, only able to watch as Seungmin gave a brief bow to you before disappearing behind closed doors. “Please excuse me,” his voice trailed behind him.

Great. He was likely the only one who’d have been bold and honest enough to tell you anything. Now you were stuck with a beast, a shadow, and a mouse that’d fallen asleep in the bread basket.

...Then this happened.

“Ahem,” Hyunjin swallowed a swish of sweet, fermented grape juice. “...T-Tell me about yourself.”

“I’m sorry?”

“I said…” He swallowed again, for no particular reason this time. He kept a staring contest with his steak. “Tell me about yourself. What kind of...stuff do you like?”

“What kind of...stuff?”

A stifled noise came from Han’s lips, as he did his best to hide a smile. He spared you a polite grin before quickly whispering something to Hyunjin, like a lawyer to a client. “...Never mind!” The beastman awkwardly bleated, to which crimson coated his cheeks. He angrily picked at his plate, and the room once again fell into silence.

That was weird. Switching gears, you glanced down to your wrist. The mark from a bit earlier was still there, now lit up beneath the flickering light. Tentatively, you slipped a spare napkin, rubbing at the ink.

It didn’t budge. You tried wetting the cloth with a bit of wine when the others weren’t looking; thankfully, Hyunjin was too...enthralled in his steak, or something, and Han was too busy whispering to him.

The ink didn’t smudge, either. It was as if the markings were a part of your skin.

When sunrise comes, and all is lost… 

“What do you do for fun?”

“Wha?!” Your head shot up, focusing to see all four eyes on you. Han and Hyunjin glaring at you expectantly. You gulped, taking a deep breath to clear your thoughts. You just couldn’t get that old bat’s wacky slogan out of your head… “...What do I do for fun? Is that what you asked?”

Han gave a single nod, encouraging another conversation attempt. You lowered your head, thinking. It couldn’t hurt to participate in mindless chatter. Just until I get the information I want.

“I like...selling things. And making people happy.”

Hyunjin’s eyes grew just a little. “Is...that what you do for a living?”

“Mm-hm.”

Both men were silent. Hyunjin, in particular, looked like he may have been experiencing indigestion of some sort. Then he scowled. “Shouldn’t you be home with your parents? Taking care of them? Doing something more decent?”

You scoffed. What the heck? Where did that come from? “This is how I take care of them. Almost all the proceeds go back to them. What do you mean, more decent?”

Hyunjin had opened his mouth to speak when Han cleared his throat, jumping in on the conversation. “Does your friend work with you? Her name was…”

“Rei.”

“Yes, Rei! You both sell artifacts and collectibles, right?”

“That’s correct.”

Hyunjin blinked. “Oh…” He relaxed, indigestion cleared.

Placing both hands on your lap, you sat up a little straighter. “So where’s Jeongin?”

The beastman’s face resembled one of annoyance and grief. “Why do you keep asking about him?”

“I…” You took another swing of wine, swirling the contents afterward. Watching as your reflection altered. “I’m just curious is all. Is he doing okay?”

Something like...jealousy?...resided among the beast’s brow and set jaw. “He’s fine. Quit asking. I want you to tell me about yourself. Where are you from? How old are you?”

It was at this point that you’d at last had perhaps one too many swigs of sweet relief and numbness, for you placed down your glass after chugging the last bit. One out of...how many refills of this stuff have you had? “Can’t,” you stated, standing. “I got what I came here for. Now I’m leaving.”

“Leaving?”

Hyunjin...the beast, regarded you incredulously. “Yes, leaving…” You giggled. “Leaving. Leeeeeaving… Like leaves blowing in the wind, leaf-ing.” It was a hop, skip, and a jump to the door some ten or whatever paces away. “I know that Jeongin is okay now...er, wait.” You frowned. Turned around. “How do I know you aren’t lying to me?”

A brow was raised. “You think I’m lying? About my Jeongin?” He snorted. “Why do you care so much about him? Do you know him from a past life? Was he your lover? Do you like him now?”

“Hyunjin…” Han muttered, glaring. “Cool it...please.”

“I will not!” He rose to his feet with twice as much vigor as before, chair flying backward. Han eep-ed. “This dinner is supposed to be about you, and me. Why do you keep bringing up my blacksmith? Tell me!”

Because you were already pretty numb (good gravy what was in the wine?), you just laughed at the fact a beast was getting this angry over something so trivial to you. “Why do you care so much? Do beasts always get this angry?” You groaned, like it was all such a bother. “If you really wanna know, he had a nervous breakdown or something and begged me to come to dinner. But he got all weird...like...there were these moving images, and he started vanishing. I could see right through him!” You sighed, making your exit again. “I just wanted to know if he was alright. Turning into air like that can’t be healthy.”

“Absolutely not.”

You chuckled, nearly at the door. “Exactly, that’s what I’m say—”

“NO!”

Boom! Chik!

...You flinched. Gradually, bit by bit, you inched yourself to partially facing the dining hall.

A chunk of the table was missing. A decently-sized, pretty big chunk, torn right off the left corner. Han, on the opposite side but right next to the disaster, was twisted up like one of the noodles that’d been trapped in Felix’s hair, his face ghostly white.

Hyunjin was seething. “You are not going anywhere outside the confinements of these walls. That is an order.”

Han coughed, waving away dust and floating wood chips with minimal effort so as not to draw too much attention. “O-Okay, easy there, Hyunjin…technically…” He smiled. An apologetic one, voice skittishly squeaky. “Technically, you can’t order her to—”

“I’ll do whatever the hell I want!!! This is my manor, my life, my curse!!!”

“That doesn’t give you the right to order me around!” You screamed. “How dare you raise your voice to me! Over something so stupid and absurd!”

His eyes narrowed to slits, head twitching aside. “What did you just say?”

You mirrored his image. “You heard me. Don’t pretend like you didn’t hear. Surely, as a beast, your hearing is as good as a dog. Or a bat. Or some kind of vermin.” Pushing open the door, you whipped your head around. “I said, I’m leaving.”

Hyunjin’s eyes went wide...then nearly vanished behind a curtain of vexed, enraged brows. “You wanna go so badly? Fine! Get out of here! Go to your room!!!”

“Who do you think you are, my father?!”

“Obviously, running amuck from your parents has left you with a lack of discipline.”

Your jaw went slack. “What did you just say?!?”

Hyunjin smirked, a sarcastically snobbish and mocking tone to his voice. “You heard me. Don’t pretend like you didn’t.”

“Uh!” You raved. “Whatever! I’m going to look for Jeongin myself, since I can’t trust that you’d tell me anything sincere. Then, I’m out of here.”

“What does that mean?!”

“It means I can’t trust anything you say, because you’re a monster!!! Then, I’m going home!”

You couldn’t quite see it, but there was a hint of pain in Hyunjin’s eyes, mixed with scars and years of regret. But everything quickly flooded back to anger and bigotry before you could count to three. “...Get back here! You’re not allowed to leave the manor! I forbid you to go anywhere except straight to your room! Do you hear me?!”

“No!”

“Yes!!”

“No!!”

“FINE!!!”

“Fine!!!”

…Slam.

| Eleven ❧

The rain coming down that night was the only thing stopping you from leaving. Not that you were afraid of a little rain by any means; no, not in the slightest. Rather, it was that you weren’t going to kill yourself over a stupid argument just to get away from a beast. You couldn’t risk catching pneumonia or a silly cold and leave Rei to handle taking care of you and the fort. Plus, there was the matter of Felix...you’d be responsible for him as well. You already told him you would.

...All of that, and it was raining pretty hard.

So here you sat, out in an old web-infested barn, slack atop a stack of hay a few feet away from the open barn doors, just watching the rain fall. Praying it would let up so you could escape. Praying no one would find you here, out in some shabby old building behind the kitchen. And what a nightmare that had been, by the way.

From your left shoulder, Felix did a nervous little jig, spinning in circles twice before bridging across your back to the other side. “Y/n…I don’t know what happened, cause that cheese and wine got me pretty good, but…” He heaved a small mouse-sigh. “...Do you think you maybe overreacted? You don’t seem like a person who gets worked up so easily.”

You scoffed. Wasn’t that right. “Yeah...you’re right. I’m not.”

“Then what happened?”

“......” It took you a moment to gather your thoughts. What did happen? Why did I get so worked up like that? Sure, there was the alcohol. That definitely had an effect. But it wasn’t everything, because now that it was wearing down, now that your mind was clearing and you’d had some time to settle down, to breathe in solitude, you...knew it was something more. There was truth in the midst of all that anger.

Felix was waiting for an answer. So were you.

“I—”

Chunk! “Y/n!!!”

You took a startled breath, turning toward an old door you could have sworn was sealed shut. “Jeongin…?”

It was Jeongin. The red-haired reason you’d decided to stick things out, albeit a little longer. The boy greeted you with flushed cheeks and a lazy smile; he still didn’t look all that well. “Y-Yeah...I came because I heard...you…”

He hunched over, out of breath. The face of another appeared behind him. “Jeongin! I told you to slow down, you’re in no condition to be running around like…” He stopped, blinking into the darkness. “Y/n? Why are you here?”

Brown hair, matching eyes. Mr. Excuse-Me-From-This-Horrifically-Awkward-Dinner. You just smiled, lazily in response. “Hello, Seungmin.”

The young...caretaker nodded, acknowledging you before being swatted away by his patient. A flash of vacancy lit up the night sky as you turned the opposite away, facing the other two in a triangle. Jeongin hustled to shut the barn doors despite Seungmin’s protests, and pretty soon the three...four of you, with Felix taking a nosedive for the hay, sat in awkward silence.

It was almost an encore of dinner not but twenty or thirty minutes ago, though not as worse. It was obvious the two of them wanted to say something, but neither wanted to be the first to speak. Finally, after twenty-odd seconds of nose scratches, unnecessary shifting, and forced coughs, the only employee with a braincell sat up a little straighter.

“Listen,” Seungmin began, using his hands to speak. “About Hyunjin—”

The beast. No thank you. You swatted your hands before you. “I do not want nor need to have another conversation about that ill-mannered buffoon.”

“...I’m pretty sure this is the first one.”

“Second,” Jeongin inquired. “...Right?”

“I’m not counting the first encounter,” Seungmin...countered. “Those never count.”

Jeongin nodded. “Yeah, I can see why—”

“Enough!” You yelled. “...It doesn’t matter if this is the first or second or even the tenth time. I can tell you one thing, it’s definitely the last.”

Seungmin gave you a pitying look. “We all have to walk on eggshells around him.” His voice sounded pleading, borderline apologetic, and all-over exhausted. “...It gets rough, I know. I understand he’s not the easiest person to get along with. He’s very different and outcast and behind the times. But if you could just hear me out for—”

“Hear us out,” Jeongin corrected. He gave you the cutest, saddest smile a boy of his caliber could possibly manage. It made your heart melt; it didn’t help that he was still ill to boot. “I heard what you did for me, Y/n. I really appreciate your concern. No one has ever stayed, especially when one of us...has an...episode.” 

His gaze grew sad and distant. You could feel your heart sizzling in a pool of pity. “...This has happened...before?” you whispered.

Jeongin nodded, Seungmin averting his eyes. “...Yeah.” He said. “Twice to Jeongin, three times to Han, Hyunjin too many to count...and uh…” He scratched his cheek, holding up an index finger. Eyes peeking shyly under the hood of neatly-groomed bangs. “...Once I may have...had a bad day.”

“Wow…” Felix mumbled, head sticking out of the hay barrel. The boy looked like a stray whack-a-mole project. “That sounds rough. Been there done that.”

You rolled your eyes, shoving him down with two fingers. He let out a muffled squeak on the way down. “So…” ...You sighed. “...What is it that you wanted to say, then? This is the last time I’m listening. I only went to that banquet to make sure Jeongin was okay.” Another crack of lighting pierced the sky, followed by the ominous rumbling of thunder. “You have maybe ten minutes, since the storm isn’t letting up anytime soon. But after that, I’d like to be left alone in peace until I can leave this joint. Go.”

Seungmin nearly beamed nonexistent sunshine. “That’s plenty of time.”

“Get to the basics. Just the essentials.”

“The company fell under a long time ago.”

“I’m sorry?”

He huffed, running a hand through his hair while Jeongin glanced nervously at the door. “The company, this place. The first thing you need to know about Hyunjin is that he wasn’t always this way. And I’m not just talking about the curse. He’s the son of a wealthy businessman; this is his estate. He owns the whole town...or at least, he did.” His eyes scanned the walls and dusty interior, as if checking to see if someone else was watching. As if taking in the entirety of the estate. “...Now it belongs to Hyunjin. Everything.”

You crossed your arms. “I could have put that together myself. He’s obviously a rich, spoiled brat.”

“There’s more. The people that know him personally know him for who he really is.”

You huffed. Unbelievable, really. “And what would that be?” You pressed. “A monster?”

A bitter silence flushed the room. You instantly felt a pang of resentment at that remark. Perhaps...again, that was a bit too harsh. 

“...I’m sorry.” Your arms laid in surrender across your lap. “Please continue.”

“......” Seungmin glanced to his left. “You wanna pick up from here?”

He leaned back, Jeongin lifting himself to take the lead. “...Hyunjin is a pain in the ass. He’s a pain in the morning, we basically play rock paper scissors to see who has the unfortunate task of waking him up and handling his breakfast, and to decide who’s turn it is to do laundry and lunch we place bets on when he’ll randomly combust in a daily rage or which book he’ll throw across the room first.” He counted on his fingers, listing them off one by one. “For dinner and his bath we usually draw straws or play an old board game, but Han often cheats, so…”

...His voice trailed off, eyes intently examining his mental checklist. You frowned. “...What does any of this have to do with…” Shook your head. “What are you saying again?”

He smiled sheepishly. “I’m sorry,” he bowed. Cute. “What I meant to say was that deep down Hyunjin is actually a very kind person, but...I just ended up making him sound like an overly-dependent...man...child.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle, twirling a piece of hay around your finger. “Well he sure does seem like it. His manners at the dinner table were atrocious and incredibly beast-like.”

“But you don’t know him like we do,” Seungmin insisted...then smiled, apologetically so, sitting up straight again. “...Forgive me. But what we’re trying to say is, Hyunjin is really a nice guy, he’s just...stuck. You definitely didn’t help with that daily ledger,” he scolded beside him. Jeongin bowed again.

“Well, sorry, I was just trying to—”

“Stuck?”

That lone word rang out like a gunshot. Seungmin and Jeongin both turned to you with sour eyes, the former swallowing a bit uncomfortably. “...Yes, stuck.”

“In what? Time? Space? Adolescence?” You tilted your head. “Because he never learned to grow up?”

“Exactly! ...Sort of.”

You glanced down to the hay-riddled fabric adorning your lap. It’d never really occurred to you to analyze or care anything for Hyunjin’s personal life, mostly because you weren’t planning on staying and the moment you saw him transform, you didn’t want to know. Your instincts told you to run, to flee, to flood your system with a coping-mechanism gene and forget and ignore what you just saw. You wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but you were scared...and who in their right mind wouldn’t be?

...But hearing this now...even given the smallest sliver of insight…

...Well, your mother had often scolded you for being nosy. “So you’re saying he never learned how to...grow up.”

Both boys nodded. “That definitely can be said.”

“And so, that’s why he acts out.” You looked around, questions popping up about the hedge maze in your mind from every direction. “How long has he been alone here? Where are his parents? …How old is he?” Your eyes focused on Seungmin. “What happened to him, exactly?”

“......” Seungmin and Jeongin shared a look. It all but drove you crazy how long it took one of them to answer. “...Do you have longer than ten minutes?”

| Twelve ❧

“Hyunjin was born to a wealthy mother and a poor, impoverished father in the year XXXX. No one knows where or how they met; Hyunjin is very selective and quiet on the matter. However, documents of his mother’s family buried in one of many attics claim they met at some time around the Summer harvest festival, an annual event that used to take place here in New Amber.

“It was the responsibility of noble families to uphold the annual harvest ceremony at the start of the season. As a part of tradition, many noble families and a few middle class families with connections to noblemen and their wives would use this great gathering to announce engagements and arranged marriages, in order to shift the power to new families and invite a sense of balance to the community. Hyunjin’s mother was reportedly sixteen years old at her time of arranged marriage, to the wealthiest family in New Amber next to the king; a family called the Song’s.

“The Song family oversought all affairs in the king’s absence; which he was absent a lot, given his aloof nature and uncaring attitude towards politics. The Song family basically ruled the city with an iron fist; many offers came to them from pushy mothers or greedy fathers who wished for their sons and daughters to tie a knot to the family name, connecting a chain to their own. A man by the name of Yun Jeongsun, Hyunjin’s grandfather, was one such parent. He weaseled his way into the Song’s good graces, and they offered their youngest son to be wed.

“Hyunjin’s mother, Yun Haerin, was against the marriage from the start. She had no interest in marriage, and instead wanted to craft her own trade to be of use to society. She wished to work alongside the Song family, rather than become one herself. As you can imagine, this angered many people; not only did it go against protocol at the time, but refusing an offer from the ruling family was considered a huge offense. And the Song family took it that way.

“As she was packing to leave the city one night— as she’d decided to melodramatically run away from her problems— she was met with Hyunjin’s father, a dirt-scratcher named Hwang Jihoon. The Hwang family had fallen on hard times ten years prior when their oil company snagged a few false investments, and the company went bankrupt and fell under. Having learned to fend for himself and adapt to life on the streets, Hwang Jihoon saved Yun Haerin from some typical back alley bandits, and finding her fancy offered to escort her to her new life outside of town.

“As you can probably guess, the two fell in love during their travels, and settled for a simple life outside of New Amber. However...Hwang Jihoon wanted more for his family. 

“No one in the Hwang family ever forgot or gave up resenting the hardships they faced. And no one especially more than eldest son Jihoon. To summarize and keep this short...Hwang Jihoon became a tyrant. He used Haerin’s maiden name to forge a new path for the Hwang’s, and eventually, the nameless city they had escaped to fell flat. It couldn’t withstand the intense amount of economic tyranny and inflation. The taxation without representation. Hwang Jihoon had swindled his family to the top and drained the entire community dry.

“So they went back to New Amber. For stability. For revenge. Now having the security and stability he needed, which he stole from others, the Hwang family came back with an iron fist of their own. Due to a current drought and a bad economic year, not to mention the king up and abandoning his people, not even the Song family could stand up to them. And promising a new resurrection of New Amber, Hwang Jihoon took the throne.

“He crowned himself King of New Amber and tore half the city apart drilling for oil. As luck would have it, the community had been sitting atop a natural oil reserve that flooded the country back into promising times. Things were actually quite peaceful for the first five years...until they ran out of oil. Taking the snag in stride, however, Jihoon used his deceit and backhanded tactics to manipulate the economy, trading and stealing from other cities. Because he was so crafty, no one caught on until it was too late.

“Hyunjin had been born just a year before. Upon his birth, Haerin and Jihoon began having marital problems, according to a diary entry by Haerin. In it she claims to have regretted her choice in marrying Jihoon, and that she’d fallen out of love with him. She claims that his only interest was power and revenge, tearing down the social hierarchy to make everyone pay— and the unfortunate effects it was having on everyone. 

“In her last entry, Haerin claimed to fear for her life. She wrote that Jihoon had violently threatened to forfeit her life if it meant continuing his reign. She was never seen or heard from after that…”

...Seungmin’s voice grew faint for a while. Tension in the air rose higher, the thickness suffocating.

You couldn’t believe such a tragic and long-rich history had occurred in such a wasteland. It obviously had fallen eventually, but…

You needed to hear more. “...So he killed her? Then what happened?”

Seungmin nodded, slowly. “It likely wasn’t him. Due to his constant appearance in the public eye, it’s more probable to say he hired someone to do the job.”

You shivered. How awful. 

As Jeongin fished out and dusted off an old blanket for you, his light coughs echoing around the barn, Seungmin continued. “With Haerin gone and the Yun family name no longer needed, Jihoon continued to thrive and plunge the city to new heights— and a harder fall. He manipulated the economy to continue spinning in his favor; meanwhile, as years flew by and he became older, he began having thoughts of the future, and who would succeed in his place. Because he was a man with no trust in anyone but himself, he summoned his only son— Hwang Hyunjin— to be molded in lessons of business and trade. How to lie, cheat, and steal.

“Supposedly the brainwashing began around the age of nine. Hyunjin had been a clueless child sent away to be cared for by a few nuns from the community in a remote location before; he’d grown up without any friends, never knowing the love of a mother or father. Only the required care provided by the Sisters of the Church. However, that does not mean he was never unhappy; the sisters did a fine job of raising him, and they truly did grow to love Hyunjin as their own.

“Of course that all changed when he was taken back to the palace. From then on Hyunjin spent his days locked away in the estate’s highest tower, like a prince out of a fairytale; forced into the education of topics he could scarcely fathom. Another maid who kept a journal of her own reported the occasional, almost frequent scream coming from the prince’s tower. She noted them as punishments for incorrect responses and behavior.

“Hyunjin was fourteen when his father died. Five years of torture and humiliation, along with a healthy dose of effective brainwashing, formed him into an angry and bitter soul. Originally, he wanted nothing to do with his father’s company. He wanted nothing to do with the position of king; but being outnumbered and powerless against the force of countless impoverished civilians forced him to make changes. 

“...I did the best I could to help him. As an advisor in training to Jihoon, I truly did what I could. Honestly, seeing him that one day...the day of his coronation...it fascinated me. There, I thought. Up there on the highest balcony. That’s the boy rumored to be the source of the screaming at night. That’s the boy who is Jihoon’s only son. His flesh and blood. The son of the late Haerin, a lasting survivor of the Yun legacy.”

Seungmin took a deep breath here, sighing out into the open space between you. Watching him flashback nearly took your breath away.

“...And so it came to be that Hwang Hyunjin took the downfall of his father’s handiwork. The moment he sat down at the throne, all the lies his father weaved came unraveled. All the shortcuts and manipulation tactics came back to haunt him. All the stolen time and resources were forced to be paid back in full. Hyunjin could hardly bear the weight of it all; the toll was almost too great. Many people saw him as cursed, and up and fled the palace to be with their families in poverty. But they hadn’t seen anything yet...”

“So…” You hesitantly reached a hand forward, then flinched, retracting it. “...I’m sorry to interrupt. But how did he...um…”

Seungmin gave a bitter half-smile, nodding. “Yeah. I’m almost there.

“One night at the head of a harsh Winter, an old woman showed up seeking shelter. Hyunjin was out stalking the palace halls lamenting his position, and upon answering, turned her away.”

Your eyes widened. “She was...the Witch of the Biome. Er, whatever her name is…”

Seungmin nodded. “Yes, that’s right. The Witch revealed herself to Hyunjin, and put a curse upon all who were present within these walls. At the time that was...well, there were a few others, but before you ask about them...they’re gone now.”

You listed your head a moment before realizing what he meant. “...O-Oh...I’m so...sorry…”

The advisor shrugged. “It was a while ago. There was nothing we could do about it. It was their choice…”

Sniffling filled your ear from down below. You bowed your head to find Felix with tears in his eyes, turning to you in need of comfort. Gently, you lifted him onto one leg, hovering cupped hands around him. “And then?”

“Then...well…” He gestured around him. “Here we are today. After the people saw what he had become, families and villagers left, some in hoards, others more sparingly. But eventually the whole city was left to erosion. Hyunjin couldn’t hide his curse forever; and neither could we.” 

He stood suddenly, dusting stands of hay and a few piles of dust from the atmosphere away from him. Outside, the sounds of clarity of nightfall graced your ears.

“So now you know. This is Hyunjin’s story...and our own.”

“So then, why am I here?”

This question seemed to catch Jeongin by surprise; but Seungmin smiled as if anticipating the notion. “The Witch tends to spout riddles about how her curses can be broken; it’s like some weird tick or bad habit while she’s casting them. Or maybe it’s just the incantation itself; no one really knows. However…” He scratched his cheek, looking to Jeongin for confirmation. The red-head nodded. “We were hoping you would be the one to break the curse. You see, the incantation, according to Hyunjin, went something like this:

“Lips to lips and mouth to mouth Calls the speaker of the shrouds Summon forth your courage and might In order to love and end within night But yet if still ye cannot fathom Ending here the chilling anthem Suffer still and face your demise For all the passing days of sunrise.”

The smallest gasp escaped your lips. Sunrise...sunrise. When sunrise comes, and all is lost...

“...Hyunjin sort of lost his way after the curse was cast. Well...no. He’d lost his way a long time ago. I guess what I’m trying to say is, he never found his way to begin with. So he really lost it after the curse hit, and he was forced back into hiding. He didn’t know what to do with himself. Everything was so...messed up. It was just a mess. His whole life had been a dark, night-infested wasteland...much like this town, almost...and then it was like someone came and dropped a hedge maze over it. He didn’t know where to go or what to do. He was already lost. So he just...screamed. And cracked. He broke, like many of the mirrors you’ll find around here. Covering it up with a delusional fantasy. That’s why he acts the way he does; sort of like he’s just existing, and nothing is really wrong. Inside...it’s chaos inside his mind. Just an ill-chosen coping mechanism to disguise the front of war. So, Y/n…”

You flinched at the mention of your name, sitting up straighter. Seungmin looked down upon you with an intense fire.

“Now that you know the story, what will you do? I didn’t tell you all this to guilt you into staying, so I hope you don’t feel that way. Nor did I tell it to scare you. You have nothing to fear but fear itself; something we’ve been trying to teach Hyunjin for a long time…” He sighed.

You glanced around the worn-down barn. At the empty hay barrels, the decaying wood structures, the various puddles of rain seeping in. What were you going to do? It was a tough decision to make...and a lot of information to process.

Your eyes traveled down to the lone marking on your wrist, now appearing to have settled into something bolder. It was definitely a petal, or an ambrosial symbol of some sort. The Mark of the Rose… 

You swallowed hard. It would seem your destiny had led you here. Even if it was a sudden destiny, a fate you never asked for. If you were going to get your old life back, well, it looked like you were going to have to take a detour. “I think...I’m going to do what I have to.”

At the other side of the barn, Seungmin blinked, remaining ever calm and collected since the moment you first met him. Jeongin, on the other hand, bore his eyes into you as if waiting to hear the climax of the story. “And what’s that?” Seungmin asked.

You stood, placing Felix on your shoulder. “You’ll see. Just watch me.”

| End Act One ❧

ღ Stray Kids M.List | M.List ღ

 .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。 .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

[theswiftarmy]

#34 – Okay, Who Brought A Lobster To The Dolphin Club? Was It YOU Jack? Was it???

The music bounced off one wall of the hotel lobby, then another. It shot across the cavernous room then quickly weaved its way between each Tik Tok Teen. The entire space seemed to bend and warp; the floor heaved upward then downward, the teens linked arms to steady themselves—the floor shaking like an earthquake of epic proportions. Then a thick bass rumble, a very loud subwoofer noise, could be heard behind one of the walls of the hotel. And if you paid close enough attention, between the rumble, someone in the lobby screamed… but, then again, no one actually screamed. No, that scream was instead an ancient sound effect used through the ages, a Skywalker Sound ‘find’ from far in the past, a Spielberg special, yes, that scream was…. The Wilhelm Scream. The scream lifted from an old studio reel by Ben Burt and then unknowingly placed in the original Star Wars movie. Innocently used in place of a real scream for that of a storm trooper, a storm trooper shot by Luke Skywalker himself. The scream unmistakable as the storm trooper fell to his death. Ahhhhhhhh!!!!

The original reel containing the scream, had been labeled “Man being eaten by alligator”… it was never meant to have been discovered, no, that old reel to reel tape was supposed to have been destroyed just the same as ‘The Porter Pyramid’ tape Scott Borchetta and Taylor Swift found all those years ago. The sound of silence, nothing but the silence of tape bias. You see, all the old tapes filled with old samples made into new art, well, that was just the start of it all. As I said, that old tape, it wasn’t destroyed, in fact, quite the opposite happened, that reel sat silently waiting for the day that Ben Burt would finally find it. And oh what a find too! The infected sound sample sitting dormant waiting for a host—a set of ears to find and a mind too—and just as art forgers leave timebombs in paintings, every and any creative work of art fixed to any medium could possibly also contain timebombs that might find their way into any creative mind of anyone who consumes that work of art, more on that later. It may indeed be no accident that Olivia Rodrigo’s music lists Taylor Swift as a writing credit. Perhaps Olivia’s younger ears in her younger years simply unknowingly consumed a Taylor Swift timebomb placed inside Taylor’s songs. Anyway, as for that old sound sample? The Wilhelm Scream… Of course it couldn’t have worked out better for the old sample, our friend Ben didn’t just put the scream in any old movie, no, of all movies he put it in Star Wars… and the more it was heard, the more it was used, Indiana Jones, Spaceballs, Toy Story, Kill Bill, Lord of the Rings, Despicable Me, so many movies there are too many movies to name… a sound that couldn’t be put down… a sound that can’t be stopped. Welcome to a world filled with Wilhelm mayhem.

“You guys…” Stan pointed at the wall. It was pulsing in sync with the kick drum of the Crazy Train music that was filling the room. Everyone turned their gaze to the wall watching it quiver like a giant speaker at a rock concert, they glanced at each other, uneasy, not sure if they should run or hide, or both. Of course, their first instinct to pull their phones out and live stream what they were seeing—like they were chilling together at Coachella and Kanye West or Billie Eilish had just taken the stage—was currently not an option. Instead, they decided to stand there and watch the impending train wreck. A moment before the crash for just a second, just one second, an audio blackhole occurred, a very brief Ben Burt moment of silence. It was as though all sound completely drained from the room for just a second… The crash through the wall was deafening. The wall exploded into a hundred thousand pieces, dust and debris showering down around them. The bits and pieces of wall turning into burning embers, carried through the air by a windstorm circling the room, the embers transformed to trails of smoldering ash then wisped away into clouds of smoke. The smoke clouds lingered for a moment contorting above their heads before the torrent of smoke and ash formed sideways tornadoes, then traveled straight into various wall mounted mirrors scattered throughout the hotel lobby.

“OH MY GOSH! AH! WHAT? THE! What did I just see? I… CAN’T, EVEN… AHHHHHHH” Jillie Jean screamed. “THERE’S A FREAKIN’ TRAIN! COMING THROUGH THE WALL!!!!!” She pulled out her broken phone and attempted to coax it back to life. “COME ON!!!!! WORK!!!! I NEED TO FILM THIS!!!!!!! WORK! STUPID PIECE OF JUNK!!!!!!” She yelled at the bricked device. “I NEED EVERY SINGLE ONE OF MY FOLLOWERS TO SEE THIS!!!!!! UGH, NOTHING IN MY LIFE MATTERS WITHOUT BEING ABLE TO SHOW THIS TO EVERYONE!!!!” She banged on the lifeless device.

“Okay, you need to calm down, you’re being too loud, you need to just stop, like can you just not step on my gown…” Sashy The Sassy Swiftie quoted some of his favorite Taylor Swift’s lyrics.

“WHAT THE HECK!?!?!” Jillie screamed again eyes the size of softballs as she gawked at Sashy. “SASHY!!!! YOU’RE WEARING A GOWN! WHERE DID YOU GET THE GOWN FROM!!??!?!?!” She lifted her foot off the gown Sashy was wearing that suddenly seemed to appear out of nowhere. “Sorry I didn’t mean to step on it.” Jillie apologized for being too loud and stepping on gowns, she was trying to calm down. But how can you calm down at a time like this? How can anyone possibly calm down! What is life without the ability to put things on social media the moment they happen!

Sashy looked down at his gown, “Whoa! I’m wearing a gown! Oh my god I love it. Okay, I need to take a selfie! BUT I CAN’T TAKE A SELFIE!!!! Okay, stop, now I need to calm down.” Sashy, unable to take a selfie, sadly put his broken phone away and inspected his gown instead. He twirled around, it sparkled in the light like a mirror ball. “Wow. This is a nice gown! I don’t know where it came from, but it’s SO nice. I LOVE IT! It’s like a got a piece of Taylor Swift herself wrapped around me!”

“Oh yeah? Well two can play at that game!” Jillie looked down at her hand and a pair of scissors appeared, she reached over and cut a lock of Billie’s hair off.

“DID YOU JUST CUT OFF A PIECE OF MY HAIR!??!” Billie Eilish yelled at her stan as she pulled her hair in front of her face to see some of the strands were now shorter than the others. “NOT COOL, JILLIE! THAT WAS NOT COOL! JILLIE!!! YOU CAN’T DO THAT! YOU CAN’T JUST CUT OFF A PIECE OF MY HAIR!!! DO YOU UNDERSTAND??? YOU CAN’T JUST DO THAT!”

Jillie held the lock of Billie Eilish’s hair in her hand and smiled then laughed manically, soft at first then slowly louder and louder. She then placed the hair strands on her own head. Laughing louder and louder.

“JILLIE!!!! THIS ISN’T FUNNY!!! THIS IS SERIOUS! YOU CANNOT JUST INVADE MY PERSONAL SPACE LIKE THAT!!!”

“Wow, this just went from lit to ratchet, like, really fast.” Kymmie stood beside Jillie watching in disbelief not just at the train and not just at Sashy’s sparkly new ‘Calm Down Gown’, but also at Jillie sprinkling Billie Eilish’s hair strands all over her own head, her eyes took in the dazzle of the gown and watched Jillie and Billie fight until Finneas snapped his fingers and his sister’s hair instantly regrew anew. Billlie gasped then hugged her brother for fixing her hair.

Jilllie stopped laughing and instead tried to mash Billie’s hair into her own her. She gave up and instead tried to snap her fingers in the same way Finneas had.

Everyone stopped what they were doing and looked at Jillie.

“What? Why’s everyone looking at me like that?”

No one said a word. They simply gawked.

“Why do I feel like I missed something? Is anyone going to tell me what’s going on?”

Without saying a single word Billie pointed at the mirror. Her stan Jillie turned to look into a mirror.

“DRATS!” She screeched out, “FINNEAS!!! How come when you do it, like cool things happen and when I try… I get this!” Her hair looked like she was straight out of Clarissa Explains It All mixed with Rugrats. The 90s scrunchie was back! Jillie style.

Everyone attempted not to laugh. Kymmie snorted and then covered her face, too embarrassed to even look at anyone. When she opened her eyes, she looked upwards, instead of at everyone else. She then fixed her attention on the bits and pieces of hotel wall turned into embers and now floating above them. She looked back over to the mysterious Polar Express-esk train once more. It was now slowing to a stop in the center of the hotel lobby. “Someone, please tell me this is not real.”

The song Crazy Train blared loudly from the interior of the locomotive as it continued to blast through the wall of the hotel lobby like the Kool-aid man blasting into the room. Rails? Where we’re going, we don’t need rails.

“ALL ABOARD!” One of the passengers screamed out the window of the still moving train. Then laughed boisterously. “HA HA HA HA HA HA!!!”

“No Ozzy! We’re getting off, not getting on!” Another voice yelled back loudly over the train engine to correct Ozzy.

“Oh… that’s right!” Ozzy Osbourne replied in his uniquely British ‘Ozzy’ accent.

Finally, the train came to a complete stop and the doors of the massive Hollywood locomotive motion picture machine opened. An automated prerecorded voice droned over the music, “Thank you for riding The Crazy Train, we hope to see you again in the future for all your travel needs between reality and…” The voice was interrupted by Ozzy turning off the ignition switch.

Between reality and what? Between reality and WHAT?!?!?! What’s the second place!?!?!? WHERE ARE WE!?!?!?! WHERE IS HERE? Where is only here if you remove the W.

The voice slowed just after the word ‘reality’ exactly on the word ‘and’ like a tape deck or record player suddenly losing power, the next word blurred and bent and stretched into foreverness until it reverberated into the room as a low rumble like distant thunder, distant drums. Unintelligible gibberish.

“Billie!” A voice called out. Billie turned around and Finneas was holding the handle of an open train door and removing an old-school conductor’s hat. Ozzy Osborne exited the train after him also wearing the same hat.

“FINNEAS!” She ran across the hotel lobby and hugged him. “I’M SOO GLAD TO SEE YOU!!!” She started to cry tears of joy as she latched on and hugged him super tight.

“I’m glad to see you too Billie!” He said back, enthusiastically, then attempted to peel her off him.

“I thought I lost you!” Billie said as tears continued to form and fall from her eyes while she kept her brother in a vice grip bear hug. She was never so glad to be reunited with anyone in her entire life.

“Billie… you didn’t lose me, trust me, I’m not going anywhere. I’m here for you, always. Okay?”

Billie let go of Finneas for a moment, she smiled, then hugged him again. She finally loosened her grip on him and stepped back. She tried to think of how to explain everything. How to start, where to start, words. “I, umm… We… this place… things… weirds. I can’t talk right now. Let me think—”

“Wait, you changed your hair.” Finneas said, interrupting her, a surprised look on his face.

“Oh… yes! Well, not exactly. It… kind of changed on its own. I can’t explain it.” She looked over at Jillie still sporting Billie’s old dyed green roots and black hair. “I, umm…. Finneas, I can’t explain anything right now.”

“I like it.” Finneas smiled.

“Okay, um, thanks… listen, Fin, I think something crazy is going on right now and I don’t know exactly how to put into words everything that’s happening…” She looked over at Sashy the Sassy Swifie—Taylor Swift’s Tik Tok Teen stan—as he twirled around in a sparkly gown pointing at people and saying they needed to calm down…

“…and YOU need to calm down, and YOU need to calm down, and YOU need to calm down... WATCH THE GOWN, people, WATCH THE GOWN!!!”

“Yeah… about that. When you say crazy, you’re talking about the train busting through the wall. Right? Ozzy’s Crazy Train.” Finneas pointed to Ozzy then grinned at his sister. “Okay, so it’s more than just the Crazy Train, but yes, we know, everything is ‘weird’ right now?” He made quotation symbols with his fingers as he said the word weird.

“I think weird is an understatement. I… THINK it’s an understatement!” Billie replied in an anxious voice, eyes wide darting left and right. “Also, Finneas, that’s one heck of a way to make an entrance!”

“It was Ozzy’s idea.” Ozzy nodded and smiled.

“Wait… Is that the Hogwarts Express?” Jillie walked closer to the train.

“Ummm… Kinda.” Finneas replied. The word in a slightly higher pitched voice, his voice cracking on the word kind of, like he was a teenager being confronted by a parent after noticing a dent in the new family car he’d just taken out for a spin for the first time on his own after learning to drive. His voice returned to normal, confidence. “It’s just the engine car, not the entire train. But yes.”

“WHAT DID YOU DO TO IT!?!?!?!” Jillie screeched.

“We, um, tricked it out. You know… made it better.” He cleared his throat, nervous again.

“No you made it crazy! It’s a crazy train!” Jillie yelled.

“Well, it’s that too.” Ozzy smiled.

“Are those ROCKET ENGINES? YOU PUT ROCKET ENGINES ON THE HOGWARTS EXPERESS!” Stan ran over to inspect the massive rocket engines attached to the side. “Wow. “

“It wasn’t my idea… again, it was Ozzy’s idea.” Finneas pointed at Ozzy.

“What?” He shrugged, “I think it looks great!” Ozzy replied in his Ozzy tone British voice.

“It does! Man this is AWESOME! It’s straight out of a movie! Soooo cool! SO COOL!!! ROCKET ENGINES ON THE HOGWARTS EXPRESS! It’s MARVEL-ous!!!” Stan hovered his face as close as he could get. “Hang on, I know these rockets, I’ve seen them before!” He looked up back at Ozzy and Finneas then back to the rockets, “They’re from… I can’t place it… Maybe Star Wars, or… no… Marvel… where have I seen these rocket engines before? I’ll think of it.” He moved in even closer inspecting the oh so familiar rocket engines modifying the propulsion system of the Hogwarts Express crazy train.

“The paint job is cool, I like the black, kind of looks like my car…” Billie added while looking over at the train, she then stopped speaking abruptly. “What?! Is that hot pink??? Those tiny little detail lines, right there. They’re hot pink. Ew, I hate pink.” She crossed her arms and looked away.

“Alright Billie, just relax. If you don’t like the pink then we’ll get rid of the pink.” Finneas snapped his fingers and the pink was gone. Faster than you can blink the color changed from pink to red.

“Whoa. What the flipping freaking frack?” Jillian Jean, Billie’s overly obsessed number one fan, squealed.

“WHAAAAAAA…” Stan pressed an eyeball up against the detailing work that had previously been hot pink but was now a velvety looking red.

“How… how did you do that?” Billie asked curiously. “Finneas… what IS going on here?” Her eyes wide as she stared at her brother.

“Billie…” Jillie pointed at the train while looking at Billie interrupting her. “THE HOGWARTS EXPRESS TRAIN JUST BUSTED THROUGH THE WALL AND YOU’RE WORRIED ABOUT THE PAINT JOB!??!?!?! What am I going to do with you!” Jillie tossed her hands up in frustration. “I need a closer look. I need to remember every detail of this so that when my Tik Tok is working again I can make Toks and Grams and Snaps and tell the world all about it! No one is going to believe this… without pics it didn’t happen. But look, LOOK! IT’S HERE RIGHT IN FRONT OF US!! It’s happening! It’s all happening!! UGH! I COULD BECOME NUMBER ONE IF I HAD TIKTOK RIGHT NOW!!!!! LISH! DO YOU UNDERSTAND!?!?!?! I COULD BE BIGGER THAN CHARLI AND DIXIE D’AMELIO COMBINED!!!!! I NEED TIKTOK!! I NEED MY PHONE BACK!!!!!”

“Jillie…” Billie made an OH MY GOSH face, “Just chill, okay, I’m sure you’ll get it back eventually…”

Jillie growled at Billie and stormed off like an upset teenager that had just had a fight with her mom.

“Billie…” Finneas paused before proceeding with what he was going to say, ignoring the Tik Tok Teens as they all walked away to inspect the tricked-out train complete with wings and spoilers and buzzers and bells and whistles and whirly-ma-bobs and lights. He lowered his voice and leaned in close to Billie. “Billie, listen. Listen to me. What I’m about to tell you, is going to blow your mind…” He paused again. “This. Is. It.” His words were slow and deliberate. “Like, THIS. IS. IT!” He said louder, then nodded and smiled after saying the word “IT”.

“What are you talking about?” Billie replied.

Finneas made a ‘shhhhh’ motion with his index finger over his lip, he glanced back at the Tik Tok Teens then grabbed Billie’s shoulders as they stood face to face “We’re…” He paused. “—how do I say this… “ He paused again, “We’re down the damn rabbit hole!!!” He shook Billie excitedly as he said it.

“Wha—What?” She tried to respond, her voice quivering between shakes… “Whaaaaahaahahhahahahahhahahahaahhahahahahhaha…” Finneas stopped shaking her for a moment “If you’d stop shaking me I could respond!”

“Sorry, I got really excited! Billie, listen, we’re in the creative abyss! The place where it all starts!” Finneas shook his sister again like he was trying to wake her up. But there’s no waking up when you’re down the rabbit hole.

“Wait, hang on… Finneas, what are you saying?” Billie was dazed and somewhat confused. She was… all shook up. Uh huh… yeah. All shook up.

“WE’RE INSIDE BIG MAGIC, BILLIE!!! PURE IMAGINATION!!!! WILLY’S WILD WORLD OF WONKAVISON! THE LAND OF MAKE BELIEVE!!! CALL IT WHATEVER YOU WANT TO CALL IT! THIS IS WHERE IT ALL COMES FROM. THIS IS REAL! And we’re INSIDE THE PLACE!” Finneas was getting more excited every time he repeated it. “WE ARE INSIDE THE STREAM!!! THIS IS WHERE ALL THE STREAMS START!!! ALL MOVIES, ALL TV SHOWS, ALL MUSIC!!!!! EVEN OUR OWN MUSIC!!! EVERY IDEA THAT ENDS UP ON NETFLIX OR SPOTIFY OR ANY OTHER STREAMING SITE… IT ALL STARTS HERE!!!! PURE IMAGINATION!!!!!!” He shook Billie again.

Billie tried to respond with the word “I’m” but all she could get out was the word “I” like she was riding a bike over the world’s bumpiest road, Finneas shook her again excitedly and she resembled a bobble head “IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII—” Finneas stopped and Billie finally managed to say something. “I’m sorry what?”

“Billie, we’re IN THE SPARK… the place where every single creative idea comes from—”

“No, I get what you’re saying… but, that’s not possible. This is not possible. How is it even possible? It’s not possible! You can’t go INSIDE creativity.” She grabbed Finneas by the shoulders and shook him the way he shook her, he bobbled like a bobble head. His head fell off and rolled to a stop on the floor beside him like one of the Fireys from the movie Labrynth. For a brief second Billie thought FInneas had turned into a Firey. Firey Finneas. She rubbed her eyes and blinked, and he was back to normal. This can’t be real. She thought. I’m losing my mind.

“Oh, but we did.” Finneas replied in a low steady voice while his body attempted unsuccessfully to pick his head back up and reconnect it. Billie bent over and picked up her brother’s head placing it into a pair of outstretched hands that belonged to his body. “Eighty-eight miles per hour! We’re here! Here in Jason Momoa land…” He raised an eyebrow as he spoke, his body attempting to recombobulate his previously disconnected and still discombobulated head “…anything is possible!!! Even divorcing Lisa Bonet after you marry her! And then possibly re-marrying her again later, who knows!” Finneas backed up, and his hands snapped his head back into the place, he smiled triumphantly, his head finally fully reattached properly. “Watch.” He looked to Ozzy and Ozzy nodded. Finneas and Ozzy both snapped their fingers simultaneously. The tricked-out Hogwarts Express train began to flip in and retract tiny bits and pieces of itself. It started with one small piece here, then a larger bit there. A rocket engine crinkled up like a folded piece of paper. The process continued faster and faster until it folded up entirely into a train the size of a Hot Wheel car… The teens jumped back making various screams and cries and yelps as they watched the train compress itself to a fraction of the original size. Finneas walked over and picked up the tiny Hot Wheels size train and held it up in the air. “Lizzo, can you keep this in your tiny purse? We might need it later.” Finneas tossed the train to Lizzo, she snatched the train from the air and placed it delicately inside her teeny tiny purse.

“I’m sorry, what? WHAT?” Jillie and Kymmie stood with eyes the size of a full moon. “What? WHAT!?!?!?! THAT WAS CRAZY!!!! TIKTOK WE NEED YOU!!!!!!” Jillie and Kymmiie screamed out together in agony and then pretended like they were in intense pain as they writhed on the floor unable to function without the ability to make tiny videos of the terrific things happening before their very eyes.

“Okay, now I have even more questions.” Billie tilted her head sideways at her brother ignoring the overly dramatic teenagers on the floor nearby. “Like, never mind the fact that your head fell off your body and you reattached it, I want to know how you did that train thing, Finneas.”

“YEAH! WE WANT TO KNOW TOO!” The phoneless and social-media-less quadraphonic funtastic four teenagers echoed jumping back to their feet. It seems they were finally interested in something that wasn’t on a screen.

“Okay, I promise I will tell you, but later… I don’t really have time to explain anything right now… we have to go. Like, now. Oh, and, real quick, just don’t interact with your muse if you see it.”

“My muse? Why?” Billie asked looking around, as though she might catch a glimpse of herself in muse form.

Finneas made an ‘it’s obvious’ face. “Just don’t do it.” He paused and then continued, “Actually, try not to really touch or change anything here… I’ll explain more later, but, I’m not exactly sure what that does but I’m pretty sure the outcome changes things… out in the real world.”

“I think I already did that.” Billie pointed to her blonde hair and then to Sashy’s gown. “Oops.” Billie shrugged. Sashy also shrugged and said ‘Oops’ exactly like Billie had just said it.

“Well, try not to change anything else. We have to be very careful about the steps we make from here on out.”

“What exactly do you mean by that—” Kymmie inquired, she looked over at her dad , Carl Lyle—The Carlyle Lawyer who appeared to be very displeased with everything going on at the moment. He was making the same face as when they encountered a closed road and needed to take a detour around it. Kymmie wasn’t sure exactly what to make of it… perhaps they were making a detour right now going around some kind of original road that had been closed… metaphorically speaking of course.

“Uh… guys… Remember that lobster from earlier?” One member of the group interrupted what Kymmie had asked Finneas.

“Yeah.” Some of the group replied back.

“Well, it’s coming over here.” Scotty ‘B-Chetta’ Borchetta interrupted, as it was his turn to interrupt… that’s how the interrupting game is played, we go counter-clockwise.

The lobster walked quickly in their direction.

“Ehlo…” It called out in a French accent as it closed the gap between them. “EHLO!!!!” It yelled. It was now the lobster’s turn to interrupt.

“Okay… annnnnnnd now it’s talking to us.” Kymmie added, halfway between fascination and freak out. “There’s a walking talking lobster!!! A WALKING TALKING LOBSTER!!!”

“You know I have a name other than ‘walking talking lobster’! My name is Jacque, and I live under a rock.” The lobster continued to talk in their direction in his French accent, it was as though he were trying to catch up to them the way you’d catch up to someone who dropped something on the sidewalk ahead of you, and you wanted to get their attention to give the dropped item back. “Excuse me, sorry” The lobster pushed by some hotel guests. “I am The Rock Lobster!” He proclaimed as he finally reached where they were standing.

“Well dang. It’s The Rock Lobster.” Scott Borchetta replied as though he had just recognized an old friend.

“You’re the what?” Kymmie asked, confused. “I’m so confused!”

“He’s a guy with a French accent dressed like a lobster.” Finneas commented quietly then leaned closer to Billie. “Be careful what you say to him. He seems a bit fishy.”

“I heard that!!! I am a lobster, not a fish!” The Lobster proclaimed.

“Riiiiiiiight.” Finneas replied.

“Nooooooo FINNEAAAAAAAAAAAS, he’s not a guy dressed like a lobster, he IS a REAL lobster, we saw him earlier.” Jillie corrected Finneas.

“I didn’t say he was a fish… I just said he seemed fi—Nevermind.” Finneas decided it was best not to argue with the teen stan and the upright standing lobster.

“I am a real lobster. It is true! Ehlo… and well to you.” The Lobster said in his French accent. He held out a claw which was too big to shake, he then held out one of his smaller lobster legs.

“Riiiiiiiight.” Kymmie replied reaching out to shake one of the lobster legs. The others also reached out to shake a leg but not break a leg. “He’s definitely a real lobster, but his accent kind of sounds fake.” She said in a quiet voice towards Finneas and Billie and Jillie and everyone but The Lobster as they continued to shake hands and legs while the lobster balanced upright on his tail.

“Okay, yes, this a fake French accent, but I promise you, I am a real lobster.” The lobster replied having heard everything despite the attempt to direct hushed words to specific parties nearby.

“Did anyone order lobstah for dinner? It’s getting away.” A hotel guest yelled out in a New England accent pulling out a giant shell cracking device like a pair of nunchucks and an oversized fork like the one used for retrieving lobster meat from a freshly cracked lobster claw. The fork was about the size of a pitchfork. The guest pulled a bib out of a bag and a giant stick of butter. They then held the oversized fork as though they were ready for jousting.

“I AM NOT YOUR DINNER! I AM THE ROCK LOBSTER!” The lobster yelled back. “QUIET! I HAVE BUSINESS TO ATTEND TO RIGHT NOW!” The lobster snapped a claw in the hotel guest’s direction.

The hotel guest gave them the stink eye then retreated, unsatiated. The lobster returned attention to the small group of Tik Tok Teenstagramers and the group made up of mostly celebrities surrounding them.

“I’m on the run, do not tell anyone.” The lobster said in a quiet ‘I’m telling you a secret’ voice.

“Riiiiiiiiiight.” Kymmie said again. “Who are you running away from? That guy with the pitchfork trying to make you his dinner?”

“Yes, I am also running from him, but he’s of no concern to me. I’m running from zee Dolphins.”

Kymmie furrowed her eyebrows, “Zee dolphins? You’re running away from dolphins? You’re a lobster, running away from dolphins?”

“Yes.”

“Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight.” Kymmie repeated once again but with a longer iiiiiiiiii this time.

“Like what kind of dolphins? The football team? Are you sure you aren’t more scared of that dude with giant fork and lobster bib? I would be much more worried about him than some silly dolphins. Especially with that bib. He looks pretty serious; he looks like he’s ready to eat you!”

“No.” The lobster replied, lobster serious.

“Hmm, so why are they chasing you? These dolphins that you speak of, not the people trying to eat you but the dolphins, unless—” She paused. “Unless the dolphins are trying to eat you too?”

“Because I’m trying to help you.”

“Well that makes no sense. You’re not helping us… You’re just talking in a French accent.” Jillie proclaimed. “I mean if anything you’re confusing us.”

“Yes, I am helping you right now, I am trying to warn you.”

“Umm… okay, sure, why not? Who am I to disagree with the talking lobster?” Kymmie shrugged and broke the fourth wall staring right into the camera mimicking Matthew Broderick in Ferris Bueller’s Day Off.

“This lobster kind of reminds me of the guy from the Monty Python movies….” Carl Lyle said to Scott Borchetta from just behind the teens, like two dads talking just out of earshot of their children playing nearby.

“Yeah, a little.” Scott replied. “It’s the accent I think.”

Carl nodded back. He turned and flipped a burger on a grill beside him.

“Burgers will be ready in a bit.”

“Great! I’m famished!” Scott said back.

“Hold on, why are you called The Rock Lobster?” Sashy asked.

“Because I live under a rock.” The lobster replied.

“A rock?” Stan questioned the crustacean.

“Yes. And that rock is under a pierre.”

“Don’t you mean a pier?” Kymmie corrected the lobster.

“Yes, that is what I said… a pierre.”

“You’re just saying pierre.” Jillie fired back.

“No Pierre lives next to me under the pierre.”

“Well why doesn’t he live under the rock with you? Is there just not enough space? How big is this rock?” Kymmie was holding her book and pen making notes. A detectives cap had suddenly appeared on her head.

“He cannot live under the rock!!! He is not The Rock Lobster! I am The Rock Lobster. But there is plenty of space under the rock.”

“Excuse me Lobster. Jillie here from The Homesworks Club, is this just a regular rock, or do you live under The Rock’s house?” Jillie asked, a follow-up question, competing against Kymmie to interview The Lobster. The scene changed for a moment to a news conference with Kymmie and Jillie fighting to ask another question. The Lobster stood before a podium with microphones in front of him. He tapped the mic, it made a short ear-piercing feedback noise that quickly faded away, he then snapped his claws together.

“It is a rock under a pierre where people walk that is not hierre.”

Bieber started to make a beat and Ye began to rap over it…

It is a rock under a pierre

where people walk that is not hierre!

It is a rock under a pierre

where people walk that is not hierre!

“Riiiiiiiight.” Kymmie jotted down what The Lobster was saying: Under rock, pier, walk, not here. She turned to (Kan)Ye and the Biebster, “GUYS! SHHHHH!” Justin made a ‘WHATEVER!’ face at Kymmie before Kanye and him stopped. Kymmie turned back to The Rock Lobster standing at the podium, “Okay, Kymmie here, if there’s plenty of space, why don’t you just let him live under your rock too?” She asked shoving another reporter out of the way, the scene growing more chaotic as other reporters pushed against Kymmie and Jillie towards The Lobster shouting questions in the direction of the podium. The Lobster clacked his claws on the podium like a judge slamming down a gavel to restore order in the court room.

“Because it is a metaphor for the housing crisis in LA!” He lifted his claws into the air as he spoke.

Suddenly the podium went poof and the swarm of reporters vanished into thin air. The teens stood looking confused unsure of why—if there were so many extra rooms sitting empty in LA—couldn’t people just live in them?

“Well, that’s dumb. Just because he’s not a notable lobster he can’t live under your rock? Even though there’s tons of space?” Kymmie grilled the lobster. He took out a napkin and wiped some sweat off his head then reached over and turned down the grill. Carl yelled out, “HEY! I HAD THAT SET AT THE PURFECT TEMPERTURE!”

‘The Rock’ Lobster continued, “Yes. However… If he can make a name for himself like I was able to do. He will have his own rock too!”

“This is everything that’s wrong with everything.” Jillie shook her head and threw her arms in the air. Confetti randomly flew from the tips of her fingers into the sky and then turned to glitter and rained down on them.

“It is true,” The lobster lamented. “But I did not come here to discuss the rocks under which we live.” The lobster narrowed his eyes and lowered his fake French accent voice to a quieter very serious fake French accent tone. “Do you want to know about the dolphins or not!?!?” He whispered yelled.

“I mean, not really.” The teens shook their heads. “To be honest we just want to take a bunch of selfies with you to post to Insta…” Kymmie and Jillie and Sashy and Stan sighed together, their sadness in sync… Addison Rae, move out of the way! Is what Jillie was about to say but somehow the other teens heard her thoughts in nodded in agreement… if only their phones and social media accounts worked right now! Jillian turned back to the Lobster, “I’d rather know why you’re called The Rock Lobster, does it have ANYTHING to do with The Rock?” Jillie asked.

“I love The Rock.” Kymmie commented.

“I think he’s super cool too.” Stan smiled at Kymmie. Kymmie smiled back at Stan. Stan looked away and squirmed in his Yeezy Boost shoes.

“No! My name has nothing to do with The Rock!” The Lobster interrupted, who’s turn is it again to interrupt? I forget. I don’t think it’s The Rock Lobster’s turn to go… “Why does everyone always ask that?”

“Um, because he’s The Rock, and you’re ‘The Rock’ Lobster?” Stan shrugged.

Scott Borchetta laughed as did Kymmie’s dad Carl, as did everyone who was alive in the 80s. The Tik Tok Teens just shrugged and said “I don’t get it. What’s so funny? WHAT IS A ROCK LOBSTER!?!?!”

“You just had to be there… ah, the eighties.” Carl replied to the teens and Scott nodded in agreement.

“I am not ‘THE ROCK’ Lobster… I am ‘THE ROCK LOBSTER! Now… Dolphin? Or no dolphin?” The Lobster crossed his claws across his chest and tapped two lobster legs impatiently.

“Okay fiiiiiineeee… oh my gosh… tell us already!!!” Jillie Jean demanded. “Like, what are these dolphins that you’re talking about?”

“All I can say is that zee dolphins are coming.”

“Yeah, you already said that, but WHAT dolphins?” Billie reiterated what her teen stan had demanded.

“THE DOLPHINS!” The Lobster huffed and lifted his claws into the air.

“You aren’t giving us any new information from what you already told us at the beginning of the conversation. Who are these dolphins? Where will they come from? What do they want? Why are they coming after us????!!!?!?!” Jillie yelled at The Rock Lobster. “I demand answers from you!!!”

“That is all I am going to tell you.” The Lobster it’s crossed claw arms again and looked away.

Jillie growled. “This is the most rediculish lobster I’ve ever met! I can’t work with this lobster anymore.”

“Well, you don’t have a choice, it’s in the contract.” Carl Lyle Lawyer produced a signed contract.

“I don’t remember signing anything.” Jillie scratched her head.

“No, you didn’t. But I did. In Loco Parentis, remember? In place of parent. Currently, I’m your acting guarding. And also talent agent.”

Jillie turned to Kymmie. “Can he do that?”

Kymmie thought for a moment, “I don’t know, let me ask my lawyer.” She turned to her dad. “Dad, can you do that?”

“Yes.”

Kymmie turned back to Jillie and shrugged. “He said yes.”

“This isn’t fair.” Jillie pouted.

“Well, Jillian, life isn’t always fair.” Carl replied in a dry Professor Snape voice.

“Rediculish. Just rediculish! I hate being a teenager! I can’t wait until I’m old enough to be my own guardian.” Jillie began to pace back and forth. “I’ll make my OWN contracts, and everything will be on MY terms!!!”

Justin Bieber laughed. “Yeah, I thought that when I was your age too.”

“Here, Jillie, put on my calm down gown and calm down.” Sashy removed the gown and put it on Jillie.

“Oooo, wow. I feel better already. It’s sooooooo… Swiftie. I mean nifty! It’s nifty! Whoa that was weird, it’s like something took over my feelings and I suddenly had a deep longing fondness for Taylor Swift. Like, I just LOVE her so much… she’s like… really cool… OH MY GOSH I LOVE TAYLOR! And this gown too, wow.”

Sashy smiled at Jillie and then took her place pacing back and forth, “Dolphins… Dolphins… let’s see, Dolphins… what Dolphins, what Dolphins?” Sashy repeated deep in thought. “You know, I wonder if The Lobster referring to—"

Before Sashy could finish his thought the rouge lobster hunting hotel guest swung from the ceiling on a rope, a large fork sticking out like a javelin.

“Look out!” Sashy screamed at The Rock Lobster.

The lobster stepped to the side reaching up and snipping the rope just as the bib wearing guest whooshed by them. The guest fell to the floor losing a grip on their weapon and the oversized lobster stabbing fork ricocheted across the hotel lobby taking out a few random guests as it sideswiped them, yanking their feet out from under them. The Lobster Hunter guest was dazed with his back on the floor. The Lobster walked to the guest and stood over him. His voice calm and collected, his French accent coating each word with courage and confidence. “For the last time… I. AM. NOT. YOUR. DINNER!!!”

The lobster’s claws grew 10 times their normal size and he slammed the snappers into the large marble floor tiles on either side of the lobster hunter hotel guest like a hot knife going through butter.

The man made a high-pitched yelping sound like a small dog. He jumped to his feet and ran off. The Lobster removed his giant claws from the floor, one claw at a time, leaving large gaping holes in the hotel lobby floor. He held his giant claws up and made a body builder shape with his claws in the air. Then, just like that, The Lobster’s claws returned to their normal size.

“Well, you don’t see that every day.” Carl said to the others.

Everyone nodded back.

“He’s kind of like The Rock, but… a lobster version of The Rock. If The Rock were a lobster… He IS The ROCK Lobster!” Kymmie yelled excitedly. “THE ROCK LOBSTER!!!!” The other teens yelled and then danced.

“ROCK LOBSTER!!!!!” Everyone else yelled and danced too. “ROCK LOBSTER!!!!!!” They yelled again a few more times and danced in sync to some invisible song that sounded eerily similar to the B52’s song by the same name. Rock Lobster!

Jillie stopped dancing and stood with a big smile on her face. “THAT WAS SOO MUCH FUN!!!! OH MY GOSH… I should have a phone out right now recording this. Like, do you realize how many views I would be getting on Tik Tok right now if I could have made a Tik Tok of what just happened? DO YOU REALIZE HOW FAMOUS I COULD BE RIGHT NOW!!!?!??!” Jillie was freaking out and pointing at The Rock Lobster. “Instagram… Snapchat… I’d even settle for Facebook live! I mean, I NEVER use Facebook… and I’d USE FACEBOOK RIGH NOW IF I COULD! I miss using social media… like, a lot…”

“Hang on, that giant claw thing you just did, you’re not going to use those on us are you?” Stan asked. His voice a mix of fear and curiosity.

“No. Unless you are trying to eat me for dinner.”

“That won’t be a problem.” Billie Eilish replied. “At least not for me. I don’t eat lobster.”

“I make no guarantees.” Ozzy said as a bat flew down from the ceiling. Ozzy stuck his tongue out like a lizard and grabbed the bat out of mid-air then gulped it down.

“Ewwwww.” Kymmie made a ‘grossed-out’ face.

“What I want to know is… How do we know you can trust you? Or what you say is true?” Billie asked. “How do we know you don’t work for him?” She pointed at The Whale.

“You mean The King Whale?”

“King Whale?” Billie looked from the lobster over to the man she had previously thought ‘The Whale’ but maybe it wasn’t… maybe it wasn’t the same man from her earlier meeting, The man who proclaimed himself to have become ‘Sole Trustee’ of so much Hollywood art because only he could be trusted… It’s so hard to tell what’s real right now or who to trust. “How do you know he’s The King Whale?” She asked.

“How do you know anything?” The Lobster replied.

“What?” Kymmie asked, caught off guard by the answering by The Lobster of Billie’s question with a question.

“How do you know anything?” The Lobster asked Kymmie.

“Because we do.” But truthfully, she wasn’t sure.

“BUT how DO you KNOW?” The Rock Lobster inquired again, his fake French accent accenting the words to make them even more quizzicle. BUT how DO you KNOW?

“I don’t know, we just do.” She still was unsure, even more so now than before… The Lobster had rocked her confidence.

“But how do you know what IS truth? If I ask ‘how you are feeling’ and you say okay… how do you know you ARE feeling okay?”

The teens stopped to think. “Because I feel okay… OKAY?” Kymmie replied but feeling as though she were not really sure if anything was anything anymore.

“But DO you?” The Lobster leaned an eyeball in closer to Kymmie’s face.

“Yes.” Kymmie answered again. But she didn’t. Now that she thought about it. She didn’t at all.

“But HOW do you know?” The Lobster questioned on.

“Because I… I do. I don’t know I just feel good. I’m fine! I FEEL fine. I JUST FEEL IT!!!” Kymmie yelled at the lobster in frustration, but there was panic in her voice. She wasn’t fine.

“BUT HOW DO YOU KNOW? What IS to FEEL?”

“This lobster is confusing me.” Kymmie said the words like she had been wandering in the desert for days and desperately needed water. She was on the verge of tears.

“But what IS confusion?” The lobster asked. The fake French accent even more French sounding.

“WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT!?!?!” Kymmie yelled at The Rock Lobster. “YOU’RE NOT MAKING ANY SENSE!!!! Nothing is making sense! I can’t work with this lobster anymore.” The other teens inched close to her and gave her a hug comforting her during this very confusing time in her young teenage life. Jillie took off the calm down gown and put it around Kymmie… Kymmie immediately felt the love of Taylor Swift infuse her soul. She then took the gown off and handed it back to Jillie who handed it back to Sashy who cocooned himself inside it again.

“I am talking about the meaning of life.” The Lobster stated in a guru yogi voice, but still with a fake French accent.

“Okay, then what’s the meaning of life?” Sashy asked sassily from inside his calm down gown cocoon.

“You already know.” The Lobster replied in his French accent.

“No, Lobster…” Jillie crossed her arms and shifted her stance to her back leg. “We don’t.” She made a signal at Sashy that she needed more calm in the form of the gown. Sashy took it off and handed it back to her. She put it on then tossed a loose part of Sashy the sassy swiftie’s Taylor Swift ‘calm down gown’ over her right shoulder.

“The meaning of life is already inside you.”

“What? WHAT?!?!?! That’s not an answer.” Kymmie screeched back at the oversized crustacean.

“Kymmie, just try to calm down. It’s going to be okay.” Sashy said in his least sassy voice.

“Do you want the gown again? It’s here if you need it.” Jillie had now cocooned herself inside it.

“No, I’m fine.” Kymmie breathed in and out slowly. She wasn’t though. She was just hiding her stress.

Stan awkwardly smiled at her and nodded. “Don’t listen to The Rock Lobster, I think he’s just trying to upset you. Don’t let him get to you.”

Billie shook her head. “Okay, if it’s inside of us then where is it? How do we find it.” Billie inquired.

“You must talk to your soul to find it.” The lobster said, his fake French accent that was now a mystical fake French accent.

Finneas stepped in front of the distressed teen shielding Kymmie from the lobster’s unrelenting barrage of upsetting questioning. “Our soul. Our soul will tell us the meaning of life?” Finneas asked, intrigued.

“Yes.” The lobster replied.

“Okay, then how do we do that?” Finneas asked again.

“I cannot tell you. You talk to your soul and your soul will tell you the meaning of life.”

“This is rediculish.” Jillie rolled her eyes. She wrapped herself tighter into the clam down gown.

“But how do you know it is as you say… rediculish?”

“Listen lobster—” Jillie wasn’t having any more of this nonsense. She shed the gown and tossed it back at Sashy. Sashy put the calm down gown back on and immediately felt a sense of relaxation once again.

“My name is not lobster. My name is Jacque.”

“WHATEVER! You’re trying to mess with our minds, and it’s not going to work.” Mean Green Jelly Bean Jillie Jean pointed at Jacque ‘The Rock’ Lobster.

“YEAH!” Kymmie shouted from behind Jillie and Finneas with Stan and Sashy to either side of her.

“But how do you know it’s not going to work?” The lobster asked back.

“Oh my gosh!!! THIS LOBSTER!!!!!” Jillie started to get frustrated again. She calmed herself without the help of the Swiftie ‘calm down gown’. Though, she missed how comforting it felt. Soooo comfy. “Okay, so I thought we were talking about Dolphins.”

“Yes. They are coming. That’s all I can say. I cannot say more.” The lobster quickly looked nervously back in the direction from which it came.

“You never answered our question. How can we trust what you say is true?” Finneas demanded.

“Because, I have a fake French accent!”

Billie Eilish shook her head. “How does that make you credible?”

“It makes me incredible!” The Rock Lobster shouted back. The teens exchange a ‘teen glance’ with one another. The Lobster continued. “How does one know anything is anything? One does not know, only to find the truth and the meaning of life, and your soul. With that… I must go. If you need me, I’ll be under the Santa Monica Pier with my friend Pierre.”

“Riiiiiight.” Kymmie squeaked out, mentally exhausted from this encounter.

“What do you guys do under there?” Jillie asked, also close to mental exhaustion but still holding it together… or at least trying to hold it together her teenage brain on the brink of a breakdown.

“We’re lobsters with fake French accents, what do you think we do? We just do lobster things… and talk with French accents.”

“Why don’t you just talk to each other in real French?” Jillie questioned.

The lobster lowered his voice. “You think you have it all figured out, but you don’t… “ He lifted a claw. “Do not worry about my fake French accent, worry about…” His voice boomed out the final two words in the sentence, “THE DOLPHINS!”

“Okay.” She acquiesced, inching closer to mental exhaustion. “If you say so.”

“I do say so. Tik talk to your soul, let your soul tok to you in your dreams and find the meaning of life… now, I must go… well to you.”

“Well to you too?” The teens shrugged back at the lobster.

The Rock Lobster then walked off in the opposite direction from which he came.

“What just happened? Where are we? What is life? Who am I? Who are you? What is anything?” Jillie uttered the words like she had gone mad.

“I don’t know anything anymore.” Kymmie said softly. “I thought I used to know everything, but…” She trailed off as she watched the lobster walk away.

“What a weird dude.” Stan commented.

“He’s not a dude, THEY are a lobster!” Sashy corrected. “Or maybe IT is a lobster… I don’t know, we didn’t bother to ask the lobster what pronouns the lobster prefers, DID we?”

Stan thought for a moment. “What weird… They.” Stan corrected himself.

“What IS the lobster?” Jillie asked.

“How do we know what IT is?” Kymmie added.

“How do we know what the lobster is, is?” Stan replied.

“What it is… my friends… what it is… it is what it is.” Justin Bieber said in a quiet voice from behind them and everyone nodded back at The Biebsler.

“Alright, I um, hate to break up your…” Scott scratched his head. ”Whatever it is I’m breaking up, but we need to get out of here. Like, right now…”

“Why?” Kymmie demanded for the sake of her emotional state.

“Because the dolphins are coming! You heard the lobster.” Scott replied in a worried tone.

“I don’t get it… what Dolphins?” Jillie asked Scott. “And what about The King Whale over there…”

Carl shook his head, “Don’t worry about him, Jillian Jean, he’s of no concern to us.”

Jillie looked at her idol Billie and they shared a something isn’t right here glance…

Kymmie shook her head in the same way her dad just did. Like father like daughter. “Okay, I don’t even know what is happening right now. This is insane. This is just… I don’t even know. Like, what is happening right now? I’m so confused.” Kymmie seemed to be talking to herself on the verge of a mental breakdown. And maybe she knew her dad was into something that he was hiding from her, but she loved him anyway because he’s her dad so what can you do, how do you reconcile that. But maybe it was her own fault, if she hadn’t kept breaking all her cell phones he wouldn’t need to work for The Whale, or The King Whale, or any of The Whales of Hollywood.. Or if she could just MAKE it in this darn industry or get enough TikTok and Instagram followers to become an influencer… Then again, maybe she had no idea what her father even did for a living… Innocent Kymmie a teenager on the verge of a mental breakdown.

“I think she’s losing her mind…” Billie commented to her stan Jillie.

“Well, she’s Ariana Grande’s stan and Ariana isn’t here to be there for her…” Justin replied to Billie standing beside Jillie, Billie’s teen stan.

“Then you take her!” Jillie said to Justin. “Take her under your wing and let her be your stan! Like you did for for Billie…”

Billie looked at Justin and sighed.

“Nah… I’ve got my own stans… way too many of them… soooo many of them… sooooo many Beliebers.”

Billie sighed again and looked at Justin like he was some modern day Fonz.

“You know, if you’re not careful, Taylor might take your stans…” Stan said to Justin and thought about his friend Dan previously a follower of Ye but now a Taylor Swift stan—”It happned to my friend Dan! He was swifted into becoming a Swiftie and stanning Taylor. Even traded in his Yeezy Boosts for a Cardigan!”

“Whatever… she can’t take everyone’s stans… what, like, is everyone going to become ONLY a fan of Taylor Swift?” Justin was in denial. They all were. Except Sashy the Sassy Swifite…

“Dolphins… Dolphins…” Sashy paced back and forth, “Dolphins… Could it be? Maybe? Could Taylor have sent help? Could she have sent them to save me? But if they’re here to help why the warning? Maybe it’s a warning for everyone else but not for me?”

“Sashy, who are you talking to? And… what are you talking about?” Kymmie asked Sashy.

“Me?” Sashy’s eyes went wide and he stopped pacing. “I’m not talking to anyone… or about anything! I don’t know, what?! I didn’t say anything… I’m just… I’m, just in the middle… thinking outloud. Trying to figure everything out!” He laughed nervously and then continued pacing. “Dolphins… Dolphins… Of course…” He looked around the hotel as though he were trying to spot The Dolphins. A club of dolphins…. And of course… Jack—Leader of the dolphins, Jack Leopard himself the leopard leader of The Dolphin Club, fearless leader of the dolphin pack. Leopard Jack!

Billie stepped away from her pack of teenage minions and moved closer to her brother. “Okay wait, Fin, so WHERE have YOU been? I mean what took you so long! What is going on?!”

“It’s a lengthy story, and it involves Lady Gaga’s dogs getting kidnapped and a lot of other stuff.”

“Lady Gaga’s dogs got kidnapped?!?!?” Kymmie’s jaw dropped to the floor like Wile E. Coyote.

“Kymmie, pick your jaw up off the floor please.” Carl said to his daughter in a dry disapproving tone.

She bent down and scooped up her jaw putting it back to where it was before. “Sorry dad.” She adjusted her jaw back into place. “I don’t know how that happened!” She turned to Finneas, “I think you mean dognapped? It was probably Taylor. Justin’s cats got catnapped by her. I was there and saw it with my own eyes!”

“It wasn’t Taylor, Lady Gaga and Taylor have an alliance. Taylor would never dognap The Gaga’s dogs.” Sashy snapped sassily at Kymmie.

“But do they? Do they? DO THEY? Doooooooo theeeeeeey?” Kymmie asked Sashy the sassy Swifitie. The words ‘do’ and ‘they’ came out of her mouth like a lyric video. They hung in the air and floated around until Sashy grabbed them from the air and tossed them across the room. They smashed against the wall and fell to the floor crumbling into millions of tiny pieces.

“Yes. They do!” Sashy replied. “THEY DOOOOOO!!!!!” Sashy paused for a moment. “How come I didn’t make words?”

“I don’t know.” Kymmie shrugged, “But DOOOOOOO they? Do they?” Kymmie leaned in close to Sashy’s ear and emphasized the word do, “DO they?” Another set of words floated into the air and Sashy grabbed those again throwing them to the ground. “Remember the backup dancer thing!”

“That was Katy Perry not Lady Gaga” Finneas corrected Kymmie.

“Oh yeah.” Kymmie thought for a second, “Dang, how did I get that wrong. How did I get that question wrong?!?!?”

“It’s not a test.” Sashy said back.

“EVERYTHING IS A TEST!” The words floated out of her mouth again and into the air, they inflated larger and larger and then floated up to the ceiling like trapped helium filled balloons looking for a way out. Like being able to fly in a dream but not being able to find a way out into the open air to fly freely anywhere you please.

“Kymmie! YOU need to calm down. Also, watch the gown.” Sashy pointed at the RED Tay Swift ‘calm down gown’ the tail of the gown trailed behind him and then wrapped around his feet on the ground all around him.

“I’m allowed to be upset, Sashy! I missed a question on the test! Don’t make me step on your gown!”

“Don’t you DARE step on my gown!” Sashy yanked his gown closer to him away from Kymmie’s feet.

Stan smiled, pleased at the quarrel… he was determined to win Kymmie’s love… if Kymmie were Kim Kardashian and he were Ye and Sashy were Pete Davidson, he was going to win this fight somehow… he just had to come up with a plan to capture her heart the way she had already captured his from the moment he first saw her.

“You guys, quiet, Billie is trying to reunite with her bother.” Jillie huffed at the other stans.

“Thanks Jillie.” Billie said to her stan.

Finneas poined at Jillian Jean. “Okay, um, so who’s that exactly?”

“My stan. I think we all get one…” Billie shrugged. “I’m not really sure how it even works. She just kind of showed up and now I can’t get rid of her.”

Jillie shrugged too. “I guess you’re stuck with me Lish!”

“Well, I don’t have one.” Justin said with sad puppy dog eyes.

“Justin, I offered you mine and you refused. And then I offered up Kymmie to be your stan and you refused and then you said you have a million stans.”

“His loss.” Jillie smiled up at Billie Lish Lish.

“I do have a million stans, they’re just not HERE with me right now.” Justin said back. “Well… technically, Billie, YOU used to be my stan, and maybe you still are… so technically, maybe you’re my stan…” Justin posed in a cool Bieber pose and made a peace sign at Billie.

Billie looked away blushing. She took a deep breath and pushed all those feelings from the past to the back of her mind. Why does he have to be so cool???? Billie’s heart skipped a beat as she looked back at Justin Bieber once more. Then she turned her attention back to her brother.

“Anyway, Finneas, I have so much to tell you… we went through the Wall of Sound! Like the ACTUAL WALL OF SOUND! Phil Spector’s’ Wall of Sound! Pink Floyd’s WALL… A mall from 1990s called and wants The Wall back WALL OF SOUND!”

“It was more of tunnel.” Kymmie corrected Billie.

“Kymmie, not now. I need to explain all this to my brother Finneas.”

“You want me to take care of her Lish?” Jillie made a motion like she was slitting a throat. A large gash opened and blood spilled out from Jillie’s neck then disappeared, the gash closed up on its own.

“No! JILLIE!!!!, wow… um, OH MY GOSH! No! Just wow… no, that’s okay, really. I thought you two were friends!”

“We are. She’s my friend, but it’s Lishy before anyone. Billie Lish Lish forever. you say the word and…” Jillie made the throat slitting motion again this time only a small bit of blood showed before the wound.

Billie made a super freaked out facial expression. “Can you just not do that anymore? Like can you just please not do that, Jillie? Please!”

“I’m only kidding!” Jillian laughed manically. “Or am I?”

Finneas leaned in and whispered in Billie’s ear, “Keep an eye on her. She kind of weirds me out.”

“No, Fin, it’s not just her…” Billie looked at the other Tik Tok Teenstagramers “They’re ALL like that.” She recalled scrolling through comments on social media. Most of them were run of the mill emoji but some of them were a bit on the freaky side. Like, afraid to sleep at night, freaky.

“Billie… have you ever thought about your sexuality?” Sashy was holding a personal mirror and fixing his hair.

“Sashy! We’re not having this conversation right now. Stop speculating about my sexuality.”

“Do you think I should dye my hair blue? I kind of want to dye it…” Sashy’s hair suddenly changed from black to blue. “WHOA! It’s BLUE!”

Jillie squeed. “LISHY! That’s like what happened to you! You were thinking about going blonde and then poof! Your hair turned blonde! Except, Sashy is now blue.” Jillie turned to face Sashy, “Sashy are you blue? Don’t be blue! Don’t let those sad thoughts get to you!”

“Wow.” Finneas looked from Billie over to the teens and then back to her. “They really are all like that. So, where do I get one of these stans? I’m thinking a little Finneas would be kind of cool.”

“Finneas! That’s the last thing we want is more of them showing up. At this point I can’t even handle the four we already have. If more show up… I can’t… I just can’t handle it—even the idea of it!”

“That’s alright, I got ya” Justin smiled. “If you get to the point where you REALLY can’t handle your stans anymore, I’ll take them off your hands. I can handle them.”

“Thanks Justin.” Billie blushed again… was she like this with him all those years ago? She thought of a video she made as a young teen. Oh my gosh… oh my gosh… I was a Tik Tok Teen too!

“We all do! We got you!” The rest of the group echoed in a chorus.

Justin continued, “Even though I passed on stans before, just know that I’ll take your stans if you can’t handle them.”

“Us too!” The stans yelled.

“You’re the ones we’re talking about, you know that right?” Billie said to the stans.

“Yeah.” They replied, “But we still got your back!”

“They’re so weird.” Finneas said quietly to Billie. Then he smiled. “I love it. I’ll take ALL of them if you don’t want them, they can all be little Finneas stans.”

“Thanks big bro, I’ll let you know… Anyway what were you saying about a dognapping?” Billlie asked her brother.

“As far as we can tell, it was The Whale who arranged the dognapping.”

“You mean The King Whale?” She pointed at the man standing on the other side of the lobby, “But why?” Billie asked.

“Yes, him, well, not him, it’s… there’s a lot going on… It’s part of the reason why we’re here… well, that and… Strangies.”

“Strangies? Lady Gaga’s dogs were dognapped because of Strangies?” Billie asked.

“Strangies! Dog nappings! Oh my!” Jillie shouted.

“Not really. Like I said there’s a lot going on.” Finneas seemed to be holding something back. Like he knew it all already, like he’s seen then new Willy Wonka movie already, like he’s seen the Rick and Morty movie… like he’s seen into the future of fiction, every spec script, the blacklist, the minds of every screenwriter on the planet before they even knew the idea was going to pop into their minds… into the future of every songwriter on the planet before they could write the next hit song… And what if you could, what if every single creative production in the world could be one-upped? What if every single creator in the world could have their creative thoughts siphoned off… what if both The Whale and The King Whale knew it too, and was going after it? Afterall… aren’t all creators in the same business to think of that next big idea before the other creators do… isn’t that how the big stars shine the brightest? They tap into that REALLY BIG MAGIC… the world of pure imagination… they think of all the brilliant creative ideas before anyone else does… and then sell it to the world for a pretty penny—

Ah… now we’re on to something. A penny for your thoughts… especially a creative thought. You see, there are those on this planet who have a special ability to tap into the world of pure imagination… to tap into the creative spark… and it’s those individuals that the Whale is most interested in keeping a close eye on. But wouldn’t you? Why bother negotiating to purchase the next big creative work of art after it happens when you can get in on the ground floor, get in before it happens… like an angel investor for creative thoughts… or even better, just take the idea before the was even an idea. It’s much easier to write your own than it is to find someone else that has written it and buy it from them. Why go through all the legal paperwork to acquire a work of art that someone else has thought of when you can just steal it before they even think of it. Steal… maybe that’s not quite the right term. Yank it right out from under their feet. Take it right from their mind before they even knew it was going to be in their mind. Yes, that’s better. It’s a much more streamline business model to simply pluck the ideas from the creative abyss before any other creator can get the spark… and it’s genius really, because for all they know they’re going through writer’s block. For all they know it’s a bout of self-doubt, for all they know their creative muse has left the building. No one has to be the wiser. Control the flow of creative ideas into the minds of all the creators and you control all of Hollywood, the entire music business… the empire is yours! I mean, afterall, haven’t you always wondered how that works? Haven’t you, the independent writer or musician or artist always wondered why your brilliant idea eventually ends up on the big screen? Or your musical riff sounds eerily similar to a number one hit song that comes along? Perhaps it’s just coincidence… but, perhaps not, perhaps not. That’s the secret… I think we’re on to something here… The world where all creative ideas live has always been there… it’s those who have the strongest ability to tap into that world that become the most iconic names and faces of the Hollywood scene.

And who wouldn’t want control of it all, control of everything in the creative realm, to control all the muses in the world responsible for making art… come along, let’s dive into the darkness of the creative abyss, buckle your safety belts my friends because this roller coaster ride is just beginning and we’re going on a very wild ride! We may have started in Disneyland, but we’ve left that world of cute cuddly stuffed animals, cotton candy, and flash photography as we ride this highway straight into the danger zone…

Welcome to Museland!

“What’s a Strangie?” Kymmie asked. “Oh wait, I know! A Strangie is someone who watches a lot of Stranger things!” Kymmie chimed in answering her own question.

“No. Stranger Things is a good show, but, no, that’s not what a Strangie is...” Finneas’ voiced changed into a campfire storyteller voice. “Gather around, I’ll tell you more… It comes from Karen Carpenter.” A campfire appeared suddenly, and they gathered around it. “Karen was in a band called The Carpenters. They were big in the 70s.” Finneas began handing out ingredients needed to make s’mores along with marshmallow roasting sticks. “Karen had a special term for her very weird and strange fans, she called them… Strangies!” The fire burst into a glittery sparkle the moment he said the word Strangies… it crackled with the intensity of a thousand Fourth of July sparklers being tossed into the fire. Then a miniature fireworks display exploded from deep within the campfire, a dazzling spectacle. Perfect for roasting marshmallows over. After a moment the fire returned to normal and Finneas continued his story. “Her Strangies were fans that seemed to have lost their minds over her and would do very strange things to get to her and get her attention. The strangest of things imaginable!” The group ‘ooooed’ and ‘ahhhhed’ at Finneas’ scary Strangie campfire story. “A good guess, Kymmie, but a Strangie is not someone who watches a lot of Stranger Things—”

“Duh.” Billie said then looked from her brother to Kymmie.

“Lish! Don’t be mean to my new friend.” Jillie screamed at Billie.

“I’m not being mean! All I said was duh. Okay, which side are you on? Because one minute you’re defending me, and the next you’re against me.” Billie didn’t understand these teenagers.

“How did I get another question wrong? I thought for sure Strangies were people who watch Stranger Things… I studied so hard for this!” Kymmie began to tear up. Jillie made an empathetic face, she got up from her spot around the campfire and walked over to where Kymmie was sitting. She gave her a quick hug.

“What is she talking about, there’s no test.” Finneas looked confused.

“EVERYTHING IS A TEST!” Kymmie said again in an upset very stressed-out teenager voice. The words again formed above her and floated up to the celling…. This time they stayed there. Hanging around. Like the past. EVERYTHING IS A TEST! The past is made up of test after test, so many tests passed and failed.

The rest of the teens got up and skipped, jumped, and sauntered over to her giving her positive uplifting catchphrases in an attempt to cheer her up.

“Kymmie, you’re not wrong… he’s wrong!” Jillie pointed at Finneas.

“ME?!?! I’m sorry, but again, who’s this? Like who does she think she is?!?!” Finneas asked, pointing at Jillie.

Billie rolled her eyes. “Her name is Jillie Jean, ‘Mean Green Jellybean’ Jillian Jean. She’s my little—I’ll explain it all to you later. You explain your stuff first.”

“Hi, Jillie Jean, I’m Lishy’s biggest fan.” She walked around the campfire and held out her hand towards Finneas, very debutant ball like. “I’m her stan.”

“Well, it’s very nice to meet you Jillie.” He turned to Billie. “Did she just call you Lishy?”

“Finneas, you missed a lot. You missed SOO much! I don’t even know where to begin to explain it. I can’t explain it all.”

“Ooo ooo! I can! Let me explain it!” Kymmie raised her hand like she was in class. “We were chased by Swifties and we almost got Swifted!” Kymmie explained in an excited voice snapping out of her moment of test anxiety stress induced sadness. “Stan kind of got Swifted by Sashy… but then Sashy’s batteries ran out or something happened to his Swifter. I don’t know what happened to it, all I know is it’s not Swifting people anymore.”

“Something… happened… to… his… Swifter?” Finneas made a confused face. “And his swifter isn’t swifting people anymore…” Finneas repeated some of what Kymmie had said in a tone of disbelief. “Wait… who’s Stan?”

“Hi!” Stan held his hand up.

“What’s a Sashy?” Finneas asked after waving at Stan.

Sashy stood up, crossed his arms and twirled flailing his gown out and putting his back to Finneas. He let out a displeasing sigh and a ‘Hurmph!’

“Now you did it.” Billie said to her brother.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to…” Finneas attempted to apologize. “Do whatever it is I did?”

“Sashy, calm down.” Kymmie ran over to him and gave him a hug. The other’s followed and they gave Sashy a giant group hug.

“Watch the gown!!!!” He decreed. “And I am calm, I’m wearing the gown.”

The other teens leaned in and hugged Sashy being mindful of the Ruby Red T-Swift ‘calm down gown’ sprawled out on the ground.

“I was expecting it to be just you here… and not, like a whole following.” Finneas flashed a nervous smile, “But it’s fine… I think.”

Billie shrugged. “If this is your definition of fine…” she waved her hands about implying that everything around them was the definition of fine. “And you know me… they find me wherever I go! Can’t get away from them!” She pointed at the Tik Tok Teens. “But, I like to think of them as my minions.”

Finneas laughed, then made a super serious face. “Billie! LISTEN TO ME, like I was saying before… THIS IS IT!! THIS is IT!!! This is where it all begins. THIS IS WHAT WE’VE BEEN SEARCHING FOR! WHAT WE’VE BEEN TRYING TO FIND THE WHOLE TIME WE’VE BEEN WRITING SONGS!!! We’re INSIDE the creative spark. The muse for all art, for everything. Where creative ideas come from. The BIG MAGIC! Elizabeth Gilbert’s place where all ideas start! WE ARE HERE!!! It’s Wonkavision in real life!!! FORGET TEN THOUSAND HOURS… This is INFINITE HOURS!”

“Wow. Cool.” She smiled back. “Sorry, that was an underwhelming response… I mean… yeah, wow! COOOOOOOOOL! Sorry, Finneas, I’m just not as excited as you are about being here. Mostly because I have to go to the bathroom and I’m pretty sure there’s no toilet paper in this place, or if there is some, it’s very hard to find it—anyway I still don’t get it… why? I mean, why are we here???”

Finneas thought for a moment, “How do I explain it. There’s a problem. It’s a problem with the creative muse.”

“What do you mean? What are you talking about?” Billie shifted her head sideways.

“Well there’s too much to explain um… there’s this anomaly… it’s… doing something strange to everyone’s creative muse.”

“Are you sure? Even my creative muse? And yours? Fin, like, what exactly are we talking about here?”

“Well, ours seems fine because our connection to the creative world is stronger than most. Just like Taylor Swift’s connection is strong. Just like all the top creators in the world have extraordinarily strong connections…��

“Okay, I’m listening…” Billie stood before her brother eager to know more.

“It’s just different for us… but them?” Finneas pointed at the innocent Tik Tok Teens. “It’s not good. Their creative connection is still fragile. It’s still unformed. And even for everyone else.. It CAN still be influenced and manipulated. So maybe we aren’t fine.”

“Manipulated!” Billie gasped the word out.

Finnneas nodded back. “But even well-established connections can be re-wired… Okay, even ours could theoretically be manipulated, but it’s very unlikely. It’s why Emma Watson is leaving acting… her creative muse is feeding her the desire and making her think it’s what she wants. But it’s because her creative muse is being influenced…”

“Wait, what?” Billie shook her head.

“The creative muse is your creative inspiration, your spark, it’s what guides you through the world it flows from big magic into the real world… it’s your intuition. The same thing that makes you and I want to make music, the same thing that gives any creator their spark… their passion, their drive… it’s why every creator creates. Every actor acts, writer writes, painter paints, filmmaker filmmakes… I was going to say cinematographers ‘tog’ but that just didn’t sound as cool.” Finneas shrugged before continuing. “It comes from here, Big Magic. Emma’s muse is being fed an alternate story making her think she wants what she wants. That she no longer wants to act. That she just wants to bake sourdough bread instead.”

“What’s wrong with baking sourdough bread?” Jillie interrogated Finneas.

“Nothing… There’s nothing wrong with it…” Finneas backtracked. “But—”

“Wait,” Kymmie interrupted, “So Emma Watson out there in the real world thinks that she wants to leave acting because her creative muse here in this world is under some hypnotic suggestion that she must leave acting and so that idea is now in her own mind?” She asked.

“Yeah.” Finneas said very cooly. “That’s exactly what’s happening.”

“I GOT THE QUESTION RIGHT!!!!!!!!!!!!” Kymmie screamed. “TAKE THAT TEST!!!!!!” She screamed at the ‘everything is a test’ words clinging to the ceiling above like helium filled balloons.

Billie nodded in agreement with Kymmie then turned back to her brother. “Okay… so what? I mean, actors quit acting all the time, musicians quit music all the time, painters quit painting all the time… artists quit. Maybe she just wants to do something else? Like bake some sourdough bread.”

“Well yes… but this is different, she’s quitting in a way that’s… well, because of what’s happening, the WAY she quit, how it all is happening, it created Strangies. She’s not quitting on her own accord… she’s being manipulated into thinking she wants to quit—coerced. She’s being influenced into thinking thoughts that, under normal circumstances, she wouldn’t think.”

“What is normal though?” Kymmie asked herself. “I mean… After the lobster encounter I don’t even know which way is up.”

It’s that way!” Jillie pointed up. Jillie and Kymmie suddenly found themselves standing on the ceiling looking down, Kymmie punched the words ‘a test’ from ‘everything is a test’ and they vaporized into nothingness, she felt so much better, Jilie pointing at the floor instead. “Wait? This isn’t right.” Jillie shook her head. “It’s THAT way!” They jumped off the ceiling and landed back on the floor.

Ozzy Osbourne gave them a thumbs up. “Right on. Cool trick! Yeah. I love it!”

“Thanks!” Kymmie and Jillie high-fived Ozzy then sat back down beside the fire. She looked up at the two remaining words floating around on the ceiling… ‘everything is’. I like that. She thought. Everything is… because everything just is…

“And Emma Watson’s strange thoughts created Strangies?” Billie said back to her brother ignoring the stans floor to ceiling and back again shenanigans. Been there, done that on Saturday Night Live. Billie recalled her SNL set where up was down and down was up and the floor had been the ceiling and the ceiling the floor.

“Yes. All of her fans… it’s the way she just left it all after Little Women. She kind of just… well, it was an unclean exit, and when you have an unclean exit, you get Strangies… But not your run of the mill Karen Carpenter Strangies, these are different… it’s like breaking up with someone. That feeling you get where you know the person is still there but, it’s over. It makes things strange… It turns her fans into Strangies…. And well, Little Women was a remake which adds a whole other layer to it all… and it’s possible that her muse is being influenced to lead her to do something else, besides make sourdough bread… but it’s not quite clear what’s going on yet.”

“I’m confused.” Jillie said back.

Finneas thought for a moment before replying to Jillie. “You know how when Elvis died, all those Elvis impersonators showed up?”

“Yeah.” Billie and Jillie responded at the same time.

“Well, they were Strangies! They’re like orphaned super fans.”

“Ohhhh I get it” Jillie stood up from her seat by the fire and stepped between Finneas and Billie trying to become the center of their conversation without really even being part of the conversation. “You mean like when Jesus died… and then his fans were like, what do we do now? And so they created a fan club. The Jesus fan club.”

“Ummm… The Jesus fan club?” Finneas gave a quixotic look in Jillie’s direction, “kind of… but, not really, I think you mean Christianity, but no… it’s more like the image lives on. You know, The Man In Black, Johnny Cash, the image and the man. When you take away the person and just have the image, things get weird.“

“Weeeeeeeeeeeird.” Jillie echoed. “It still sounds a lot like the Jesus fan club to me… the man is gone but the image lives on… and peace be with you and with you too.”

Finneas and Billie simultaneously replied to Jillie “Riiiiiiiight. No, this is definitely different.”

“What’s that about Jesus?” Justin Bieber asked. Kanye “Ye” West walked over next to Justin also interested in discussing Jesus. “We’re all about some Jesus talk!”

“We were talking about the Jesus fan club and his Jesus stans.” Jillie replied enthusiastically.

“I think you mean Christians?” Justin responded and Ye nodded in agreement.

“Some say pork roll, some say Taylor ham.” Jillie held up a pork roll in one hand and a Taylor ham in the other.

“Where’d you get a pork roll and a Taylor ham!??!” Justin gasped.

“I don’t know, but they look delicious—That’s not important—What you need to know is they’re the same thing.” She then merged the two of them into one. “WHOA… how’d I do that!?!?” She then took a bite out of the Taylor ham pork roll. “Mmmmm, not bad. Mmmmm… wow. This is actually really tasty!”

“Jillie, I’m not entirely sure you should eat that.” Finneas showed a concerned look. “You just conjured it out of thin air!”

“Eh, it’s fine. I’ve eaten worse.” Jillie said between bites of Taylor Roll Ham. “Besides, you did it with the marshmallows earlier!”

“Yes, but I know what I’m doing!” Finneas shook his head.

Jillie shrugged and took another bite and got Taylor Roll Ham all over her face.

Billie made an ‘ewww gross’ look. “Okay, hang on, what were you saying about the remake?” Billie asked turning her attention from her stan back to Finneas.

“Little Women… The remake problem. Movies, music… any time anything is remade, rerecorded, rebooted. It changes the original work of art.”

“Duh.” Jillie reflexively let out a duh. “Sorry, It… I… force of habbit.” She continued to eat her ‘Taylor hamwich’ sandwich making a mess everywhere.

Billie bobbed her head yes in agreement. “Okay, this time I’m on board with that duh but, Jillie, you need a napkin or something, you’re making a mess!!!”

“For you Lish, I will wish for a napkin in the same way that I somehow created this sandwich!” Jillie closed her eyes and tried to conjure up a napkin and instead created a roll of toilet paper. “I guess that will do.”

Billie grabbed the roll of toilet paper. “I’ll take that!”

“LISH! Don’t steal my tish!!!”

“Finneas… snap her up a napkin, will you?” Billie said to her brother while tucking he roll of toilet paper away for safe keeping, in this place, toilet paper was as good as gold!

Finneas snapped his fingers and a stack of napkins appeared. “Here.” He handed one of the napkins to Jillie, then after a moment just handed the entire stack to her. “You know what, just… just take them all.”

“THANKS!!!!” She grabbed the napkins and continued to eat and make messes and attempted to clean up the mess while she ate.

Billie shook her head at the hopeless stan. “Jillie is right, so what does that mean? So what if movies and songs, or artwork is remade…”

“Well, every piece of art from the past or present has the ability to influence future art.”

“Okay.” The Tik Tok Teen stans nodded at Finneas.

“Supposing an original work of art would have influenced a derivative work of art that the artist was going to make based on that original artwork, but instead a remake was created which then influenced that derivative instead. Well, that changes the newly created derivative. It takes the art echo in a whole new direction. Changes everything. Because that derivative has the ability to influence new creations on its own later on down the road, do you ever wonder why E.T. wasn’t remade and has no sequels? It’s all about the derivative artwork created under the art influence of that original art, Spielberg needed to keep that art pure. The Amblin Entertainment logo, the muse needed to stay pure. It’s all connected, there’s art connected to that work of art that, if E.T. were to be remade would change the Art Echo. The extra-terrestrial alien in the basket on the bike in front of the moon, look closer, not with your eyes, but with your mind, there’s more than meets the mind, what emotions do you FEEL when you think of E.T. in that basket on the bike flying the air in front of the moon….”

“Love.” Kymmie smiled.

“HOPE!” Stan shouted out.

“Joy!” Sashy yelled.

“Hungry.” Jillie said with another mouthful of sandwich.

“Jillie!” Billie shook her head at her little.

“I get it!” Sashy smiled. “It’s like listening to Taylor’s old music while you paint, or write, or craft, or sculpt… but then you replace Taylor’s old music with her new recordings and the art you would have made to Taylor’s old music is different because the new music moves you in a different way. It changes your emotions, makes you feel something entirely different!”

“Exactly!” Finneas pointed at Sashy. A gameshow sound played, and an announcer voice spoke in a cheerful tone: ‘TEN POINTS TO SWIFTIEHOUSE TEAM SWIFITE TAKES THE LEAD!’

“WHAT?!?!?! That’s not fair!” Jillie shouted.

Sashy the Sassy Swiftie shrugged. “Sorry. It’s Taylor’s world now, you just live in it.”

“Billie! Do something!” Jillie commanded of her pop icon obsession. “Or I’ll make an embarrassing video of you go viral…”

Billie rolled her eyes. “Finneas…”

Finneas snapped his fingers, and the gameshow voice came to life: ‘TEN POINTS TO EILISHHOUSE, GAME IS NOW TIED!’

“WHAAAAAAT? That’s cheating!” Sashy said angrily.

“What was that you were saying about Taylor’s world?” Jillie laughed manically.

Sashy retreated inside his gown like a turtle going into a shell.

“Wait you called me Billie!” Billie gasped at her stan.

“Don’t read into, Lishy. It was a one-time thing.” Jillie crossed her arms.

“What about us?” Kymmie The Teen Arianator pointed at herself and Stan, The Follower of Ye.

Finneas snapped his fingers again and a scoreboard appeared with 10 points going to each team. Kymmie and stan high-fived with each other vowing not to make the same mistake as before when they tried a high-four. “Now, where was I? There’s a reason why some films and songs were never remade, or never should have been remade, like, for example The West Side Story… we’re still trying to figure that part out. All I know is that all of it comes back to the image and the artist and when the two disconnect… it’s bad news at least, it is here in this place… where we are now.”

Billie pointed all around, “You mean here in pure imagination? The land of make believe. Jason Momoa, anything is possible… Elizabeth Gilbert’s Big Magicville… the creative muse of Taylor Swift’s world and we just live in it … here in MUSELAND!”

“Yeah.” Finneas nodded.

“Okay… so, what do we do? How do we fix it?” Billie asked.

Finneas got very serious, “Well I think we have two options, one, get Emma Watson back in the saddle, get her making movies again… Real, full length blockbuster movies… not just some New Year’s Day Harry Potter reunion special where she comes clean about her Regina George Hogwarts ‘Burn Book’ journals she wrote about everyone on the set of Harry Potter, or a tiny film she puts on Instagram. We need her to star in a record breaking box office smash hit in theaters around the world film.”

“Or?” The lawyer replied immediately in a way that he was in desperate need of the next piece of information.

“Yeah that’s pretty unlikely. What’s the other option?” Kymmie asked looking from her dad, the lawyer, to Finneas.

“Well… If we can get her Strangies connected to another creative muse, they might not—”

“Another creative muse?” Kymmie asked, in a curious childlike voice. “What about—"

“Might not what?” Carl cut his daughter off in a very concerned voice. “What is it that Emma Watson’s Strangies might do?”

Finneas looked nervously at the lawyer after catching a ‘careful what you say’ look from his sister. “Um, we need to figure out how to control these Strangies, that’s the important part. Think of them like orphaned Emma fans stuck here in the creative abyss, if each artist has a muse, each fan of that muse also has something like a mini muse here in this place and it seeks out the muse that it’s attached to, but if the muse it was following is suddenly changed out the blue, it makes Strangies… in the real world Emma hasn’t a clue, she doesn’t know what’s about to happen in Hollywood, no one really does.”

“Except us…” Kymmie said in awe. Jillie, Sashy, and Stan nodded like they were in on some big secret no one else knew about.

“Us and The Whale…” Billie added. “Or, The King Whale?”

“Both.” Finneas thought for a minute, “Well. All three, us, The Whale, AND The King Whale. But The Whale and The King Whale are one and the same, see, like I was saying earlier about Johnny Cash and The Man In Black, it’s the same but dif—”

“What’s about to happen?” The lawyer asked impatiently, cutting Finneas off. “Or what do you THINK is about to happen with Hollywood and Emma Watson’s Strangies?” He rephrased the question. “Remember, we’re not in the real world anymore… We’re a long way from Toto’s home and I would like to get back home, so please answer the question to the best of your knowledge.”

Billie shook her head ever so slightly at her brother and thought her own thoughts into Finneas’ mind… ‘don’t trust him’. Finneas nodded slightly back at his sister after hearing her thoughts inside his head. “I think… that… if enough Strangies overrun this place… it may spill out into the real world. And then the real world will become overrun with Strangies too.” Maybe that’s not entirely the whole story, but… he wasn’t going to tell him the rest… at least not just yet.

The lawyer looked over at The King Whale.

“Well dang.” Jillie’s eyes were wide. “There has to be a way to stop all that!”

Kymmie tapped her father’s pen against her found journal. “New muse… hmmm… new muse??? How about we use Sasha Spielberg’s muse?”

“Maybe.” Finneas thought for a moment, “But Sasha is complicated. She has multiple muses, she paints pet portraits, sings, does improv comedy, and her dad’s muse might interfere. It could get dicey. Anyone else?”

“Hmmm…” Kymmie thought and made more drumming noises with the pen and her journal.

“Wait, I know, what about Millie Bobby Brown!!! She seems like an adequate host. She can be the new Emma Watson!”

“Millie Bobby Brown eh?” Finneas looked up and to the left for a moment then back at Kymmie. “Yeah, that might work. But, first, we’ll need to find Millie’s creative muse here in THIS world and that’s a problem because Millie’s muse could be anywhere.”

“Okay… well, I’ll start a to-do list! That should help! That’s how I start studying for every test.” Kymmie opened up her journal to a fresh page. “1) Find Millie’s Muse.”

“I’m going to make one too! That’s how I start all my homesworks assignments!” Jillie opened up her journal to a fresh page and wrote the same thing down.

“Wait… something’s fading in under that…” Kymmie and Billie’s journals displayed the same text under the first item of their to-do lists.

FADE IN:

2) Follow the Buzzy Bee to find Buzzy Lee, she will lead you musically to Millie’s muse if you choose, and there in Strange Town she can be found.

FADE OUT:

“What does that mean!?!?!” Kymmie and Jillie yelled out.

“I think we need to go to Strange Town!” Kymmie answered the question. “Jillie! Millie’s muse is in Strange Town!” Kymmie said to Jillie her eyes wide and excited.

“Okay but where’s Strange Town?” Sashy asked no longer cocooned up in his calm down gown and instead letting it just float freely behind him. Half the gown was now floating as if someone were holding it up an invisible wind making it look fashionable like a photoshoot. He changed poses as though a thousand flash photography cameras were taking his picture on a fashion runway. His hair blowing behind him but stuck in a still frame motion stop making him look Photoshopped in real life.

Jillie shrugged at Sashy. “Probably somewhere?”

Kymmie and Jillie both showed Billie the writing in each of their journals. “It says we need to find a buzzing bee.” Kymmie pointed at that buzzy bee part of the message.

“Yeah, and then we need to find Buzzy Lee.” Jillie added.

“AND THEN she’ll lead us musically to Millie’s muse… if we choose… what are we supposed to choose?” Kymmie looked at Jillie.

“I don’t know…”

“We have to choose the right answer! It’s a test. IT’S A TEST!” Kymmie yelled out.

“And there in strange town she can be found…” Jillie read more of it like reading the clue for a treasure hunt.

“MILLIE’S MUSE IS IN STRANGE TOWN!” Kymmie and Jillie shouted out.

“I think we need to lead all of Emma Watson’s Strangies to Strange Town?” Kymmie deduced. She started to write in her journal…

3) Find Strangies

4) Find Strange Town

below that she wrote

3) Find Strange Town

4) Find Strangies

“I can’t decide on an order! I’ll just keep both and cross one out later.” Kymmie looked at the journal indecisively.

“These teens are just way too stressed out about getting the right answer for everything.” Finneas said quietly to Ozzy.

Ozzy nodded back in agreement. “I usually find the right answer is right in front of you most of the time…” Finneas nodded back in agreement. “Or I just ask Sharon and she tells me.”

“Finneas, do you really think The Whale is influencing Emma Watson’s muse here in Big Magic making her think she wants to quit Hollywood, so he can create Strangies out of her fans to use to take over Big Magic?”

“Yep. But it’s hard to explain, The Whale is the man, The King Whale is the image… so they are one and the same. And while it’s The Whale behind it all, it’s The King Whale that’s doing the influencing here.”

“That’s so Meta. It’s like we’re inside the Metaverse!” Jillie clapped her hands excitedly.

“That’s one way to look at it. But this isn’t a computer game, or digital world. Or the Matrix, or a simulation. It’s the beginning of all creative thought before it becomes a creative work of art, before it’s written down, copyrighted, owned, and used in malicious ways to sway hearts between love and hate. And fought over with legal proceedings. Or meetings in a board room full of executives.”

Carl Lyle Lawyer narrowed his eyes at Finneas. “You make it seem as though legal protections and ownership of art is a bad thing.”

“Depends.” Finneas shrugged. “I think it can be both good and bad.”

“Tell us more about these Strangies.” Carl changed the subject. “Specifically, about them escaping here, this Big Magic Museland, and getting into the real world.”

“It happened before, Karen Carpenter… when she died… the way she died. Her creative muse was killed, and so it killed her… her heart gave out. That’s the problem with Strangies… there are… side effects. And you won’t always see them out in the real world, walking around, like Death Eaters.”

“I hate Death Eaters!” Sashy said in a nervous voice as his gown wrapped back up around him like a turtle going into a shell.

“It’s okay, Sashy, there’s no Death Eaters… Strangies tend to be more like manifest effects. A gun goes off on a movie set and kills someone, or a bankroll movie production will flop on what should have been one of the biggest blockbusters of the holiday season, or a concert will be overrun, and people die as the crowd pushes towards the stage unable to get close enough, Strangies show up in unexpected ways. Others have tried to control them before, tried to take over Big Magic and they have all failed, because there’s no controlling Strangies. Sometimes Strangies are simply an influence in the world, a gentle force a nudge in the wrong direction, turning the fate on an artist’s career, or a show, or a movie. But, sometimes, they do show up in the real world as a real person. And they stand there at the edge of your driveway waiting for you to leave your home. Stalking you at the gate like a lion in the zoo, but you’re the one in the cage. Or they rush your car window asking for an autograph at 3am outside a club. Or sometimes they come to your window in the middle of the night. A Strangie isn’t something to mess with, the best you can do if one gets into the real world is hide, Saundra Bullock knows it well. She had an encounter with a Strangie in the early morning hours of June 8th back in 2014.”

“Whoa.” Chills ran down Kymmie’s spine then the chills ran across the floor and jump up and ran down Jillie’s spine.

“AHHHH!!!!! GET THEM OFF ME!!!!” Jillie screamed. The teens attempted to shoo the running chills away. The chills then ran over and jumped into Lizzo’s tiny purse.

“I think I’ll keep these…” Lizzo snapped her purse shut. “I might need them later.”

“Careful with those.” Carl said in a lawyer tone like she was handling bagged evidence of a crime.

“I don’t like this place. I don’t like it at all!” Jillie kept trying to look at her back to see if the chills were still there. “I mean, I like it… but… It’s starting to get strange. At first I thought it was cool but now I’m not too sure. I kind of want to go home.”

Sashy came out of his gown turtle shell. “It’s okay… I’m here! We’re all here. The gown is here if you need it. It will protect you from the Strangies!”

“I’m okay. I’m calm, I just… feel like I’m losing my mind, over and over, and then it’s back again and I’m fine.”

“Me too. Jillie, oh gosh… me too!” Kymmie shook her head rapidly yes.

Billie turned her attention yet again back to her brother, these teen stans are just SO distracting! “Okay but unlike Karen Carpenter, Emma’s not dying. I mean the only way that might happen is if she meets Al Gore or something and they start geeking out about stopping climate change. Then she might be like on the ground saying… ‘I died!’ or something.”

“Wait what if… Emma doesn’t quit Hollywood and she gets behind the camera instead of in front of it? What does that do to her strangies?” Kymmie asked.

Finneas made a thinking face. “Hmmm… good question, I don’t know.”

“Okay, so what if we get her behind the camera? Will that fix everything?” Kymmie continued.

“I’m not sure, but I don’t want to find out. I’d rather find Millie’s muse anyway because if Emma’s Strangies won’t go quietly into the night, we’re going to have one heck of a fight on our hands.”

“What do you mean?” Stan asked. Carl had the exact same question and was glad he didn’t have to ask it.

“The Whale and his image The Whale King, he’s trying to use Emma’s Strangies to take over Hollywood. But the thing is, if he succeeds… no one will even know anything happened, because everything will happen here, in this world, the land of creative thought, the land of make believe. No one will have seen or heard a thing. Except, there are a few creators who have been able to see into Big Magic and they could be watching, they might know, everyone else just gets glimpses, they get pieces, inspiration, dreams, blips… it’s like the matrix, or inception, Ready Player One, the Metaverse, call it what you want… visions… tiny bits and pieces… but there are a few who can truly can SEE this world, or enter into this land of Pure Imagination—Wonka style… there are a few who can stay here… can stand here like we are now, but even those few can’t stay forever, they come and go quickly… Taylor Swift is of the closest to it right now, she visits often. Most people can’t stay simply because they get distracted… We are only here because we came in through the anomaly, and these Tik Tok Teens came with us, obviously…” Finneas stopped for a moment to watch the Tik Tok Teens distracted by their broken phones trying to make them work again before giving up and paying attention to Finneas once more. “Visiting here is what every single artist wants. What every creator wants to reach… call it what you want, Nirvana, enlightenment… it’s pure creative vision. It’s what all the great painters wanted. And generally, no one knows this exists. They only see the fire it creates, the art that is inspired by it… What happens in Big Magic goes into the real world… but people in the real world are blissfully unaware this place even exists, except for us creators, us artists, that can’t sleep at night because he toils away at an idea we can’t stop thinking about, because our muses are there feeding us. And if Strangies get out of control, it’ll be war with the weapon of suspension of disbelief before anyone even knew there was a battle beginning.”

“Wow.” The Tik Tok teens blinked in sync, and in awe.

“So wild.” Stan said with a smile. “This is going to become a Marvel movie by the end of this…”

“Stan, we’re not in a Marvel movie.” Jillie countered.

“Oh just you wait, little one, just you wait.” Stan stood his ground.

“Who you calling little!” Jillie suddenly grew to match Stan’s height and then she shrunk back down to her regular height

“How the heck did you do that!?!?!?” Stan shouted out in both wonderment and amazement.

“I don’t know? I just did it… and then it undid. That was so cool. I need to find out how to do that again! I need ot figure out how these super powers work! Kay… I like this place. It’s weird, but it’s a good weird, Strangies or not it’s my kind of weirdness.”

Billie Eilish shook her head at her little stan then looked back at her big bro. “How did you figure this all out.” Billie asked, ignoring the teen stans as they then attempted to figure out the magic trick that just took place like trying to figure out how to do a skateboard trick.

“Well it took us a while… weeks maybe, months… Years.”

“Weeks? MONTHS!?!? YEARS!!!! But the AMAs were like only an hour ago.”

“Well… not exactly, the AMAs you are referring to, the 2019 AMAs, the ones where Taylor performed and got like 700 awards were like 2 ish years ago. Time isn’t linear in here. And it’s relative to each person, place, and things are…”

“We are in a Marvel film!” Stan shouted. “It’s like Loki!”

“I mean not exactly. But sure. That’s one way to look at it.” Finneas replied to Stan and then turned his attention back to his sister.

“SEE! We ARE in a Marvel film!” Stan said excitedly to Jillie.

“This is so weird!” Jillie said back to Stan, but also to Finneas and Billie.

“Tell me about it.” Billie replied to her stan.

Teenagers in Museland… Like herding cats. Cats that want to take lots of selfies and post things to social media. And get Tik Tok famous.

Finneas continued speaking, “Anyway, Taylor wrote and recorded a song after the 2019 AMA awards, it was some collaboration song with Shawn Mendes, that part is not really all that important… what’s important is that the song was fed to her through her creative muse. And the art traveled from her muse into her mind, through her creative connection to this world that we are standing in right now. Taylor didn’t exactly ‘release’ that song…. More like someone else did using her and her muse as a vector of transmission for the artwork. It’s complicated to explain the specifics.” Finneas didn’t want to confuse everyone with all the complex details, “They got between Taylor and her muse using The Anomaly and were able to manipulate the connection. That song is just a test to see if it could even be done, and it did happen, Taylor wrote the song based on a creative inspiration from her muse and was set to release it with Shawn when she suddenly felt odd about the entire song. It was put into her song vault and instead Taylor and Shawn just released a remix of her song ‘Lover’.” Carl made a hmmmmmmmmm noise and Finneas looked at Billie then continued on, “Taylor somehow sensed that something wasn’t right with that original collaboration song so she pulled it and it’s been in her vault ever since. I don’t think she knew exactly what had even happened to her, but I think she could tell something was off. Now, we’ve found out information that there are plans to use her muse again. That plan is to release another song through her using her muse… and this new song is much more powerful than the original test was. It has not been written yet not in the real world. Wait, strike that, reverse it, no, change it. No one in the real world knows about the song, and they may never as this new song is a 2.0 version of the original test, a whole new variant, completely different, we don’t know exactly how this new viral muse song will spread. But what we do know, because we have seen the effects already is that artists out in the real world ARE feeling it’s effect so we do know that the song was given to her muse, just the same way the test song was, and not just Taylor’s muse, it was given to other muses too. And while it has yet to be specifically written, recorded, and released as a surprise single by Taylor in the real world, it’s already doing something disastrous. And here in Museland, if you heard the song, you’d think it was hers—it’s Taylor’s voice, it’s her song, but it’s not. It’s sampled and AI manipulated. It’s a neural network algorithmically generated song. Like a deep fake of music. A song for the muses here in this museworld. Created by The Whale and The Whales of Hollywood in a secret studio out there in the real world, and brought here and injected into this world as an experiment.”

“Whoa. AI manipulated neural network algorithmically generated deep fake Taylor Swift music?” Sashy was hooked on Finneas’ every word. “Sounds like trouble…. trouble… trouble…”

“I knew it was trouble from the start. We knew it was trouble from the start. That’s why we’re here.” Finneas pointed at Ozzy. “Now Ozzy and I and our team are pretty sure the single that The Whale King is giving out to muses isn’t designed to ever reach the real world. In fact we think that the test version that DID make it to the real world was a mistake because Taylor could tell something was wrong and she shelved it before it could be released and put it deep in her song vault buried away never to be heard. We think The Whale learned from that mistake and him and his Hollywood friends created something brand new based off that. But we also think Taylor’s muse isn’t like most muses, it’s much stronger, Taylor’s muse whispers to her while she’s sleeping and it will most likely feed her the deep fake when she’s dreaming, and when she wakes, she’ll create the song on her own anyway. She’ll have no idea her muse was used to accidentally feed her a deep fake song. And that song, if it’s ever released into the real world, will create real world Strangies out of her fans. Everyone will lose their minds. The whole world will go to madness.”

“Wow!” Everyone yelled out together.

“So, what’s the song called?” Sashy asked curiously, completely captivated by everything Finneas had just said.

“Yeah, tell us more about this deepfake muse song?” Kymmie asked excitedly, her dad nodded beside her expressing interest in the song.

Finneas snapped his fingers again and a few additional logs appeared out of nowhere floating through the air and finding their way to the fire burning in the middle of the hotel lobby. You might think the Fire Marshall would be throwing a fit right about now, things in Museland/Museworld lack certain safety protocols… this IS the most dangerous movie set after all. The fire reached out and grabbed the logs from the air sucking them, it growled and grumbled and grew in size ever so slightly as it consumed the lumber like a lion licking its lips after a nice size snack.

Finneas continued speaking. “The song is called ‘Hey Siri!’…

“Hey Siri…” Sashy repeated back.

Finneas nodded, “Hey Siri. The hook goes ‘Hey Siri play hey Siri’. It’s a derivative work of Toni Basil’s 80s song ‘Mickey’. This song is Taylor’s voice repeating the lyrics over and over again ‘Hey Siri play Hey Siri, Alexa turn it up, Okay Google, lets go!’ and that’s the whole song. But, unlike any song you’ve ever heard before, each time the song plays back it dynamically shifts. No two listens are the same, ever. It’s dynamic music instead of static, which means the ‘recording’ isn’t a recording at all, in fact it’s entirely AI generated. Every time you hear it, the song is different… it’s an infinite loop but it tricks the brain into thinking you’ve never heard it before and making you want more.”

“WHOA… But how????” Sashy pleaded for more from Finneas. “How does your brain want more of it?!?! My brain already wants more Taylor! I LOVE HER MUSIC ALREADY!!! HOW COULD I EVER WANT IT EVEN MORE???”

“Well, from what we can figure out so far.” He nodded at Ozzy Osbourne and Ozzy nodded back. “It works like one of those old JavaScript popups where it just was programed to open so many times that you can’t ever close it. It starts with one innocent pop up with a button that says, ‘would you like to close this pop up?’ and the only button to click is ‘close’. But when you click ‘close’ two more open up. Then you click ‘close’ again, and now 4 open. Then 8. 16. 32. Doubling each time until it becomes impossible to even see the screen. That’s what this song does in your brain, should someone here in Big Magic hear it, it will slowly take over their mind until it’s all they can think about, until they become completely and absolutely obsessed with it. Now, there’s no way of telling if the song ever gets into the real world what will happen, it’s possible it will do the same thing to every phone on the planet. No one will be able to stop it. It starts repeating so many times that it triggers itself to play itself over and over again and fills up the playlist on every single device in the world so you can’t play any other song. And then, once every phone is playing the song in sync with every other phone, and no one can turn it off, it will slowly attach to each person’s brain, maybe after the first listen you hate it, then after a few more it’s okay, then after a few more you start to like it… and soon, you love it, it’s your favorite song, you can’t listen to any other song. Phones and minds alike will get hooked deep fake Taylor Swift! And if any other devices are nearby that are not playing the song it will surely spread to them, all cell phones, or any device that can play music will start playing the song and fill the song queue with only that song like a pop-up taking over the entire computer screen… every phone with Siri listening within audible range picks up the request… Hey Siri… play Hey Siri… All the Alexa devices tune in… Alexa turn it up… And every Android phone won’t be far behind. Okay Google, lets go! Play Hey Siri, Play Hey Siri, PLAY HEY SIRI!!!!’

“Whoa.” The teens were transfixed on every word Finneas was saying.

“But you said the song isn’t in the real world?” Sashy asked checking to be sure.

“Not yet. No. Taylor hasn’t written it. Right now her muse has this song. Here… in Pure Imagination… Big Magic… Museland… THIS world. And somewhere here IS Taylor’s muse. And she has that song and her muse is singing it over and over and over again to itself... which means Taylor probably will get at least something from her muse… or if Taylor’s muse isn’t able to sing any other song, it may be that Taylor starts to get nothing at all… she may be going through a complete creative block, unable to write any new songs because her muse is stuck on ‘Hey Siri!’”

“How exactly did Taylor’s muse get the song?” Sashy asked.

The fire crackled then Finneas leaned in close and whispered, “It was given to her in the form of a tiny music box wrapped as a gift, hand delivered to her, here in this world by—”

“—The King Whale.” Billie whispered out finishing Finneas’ thought.

“Yeah. Her muse, in an act of pure curiosity, innocently unwrapped the music box and then wound the device up. She then tapped a tiny play button on it and began to listen to it. The music box has no pause, or stop, or rewind, or any other button of any other kind so her only choice was to let it play until the spring ran out but by then it was too late.” Her brother paused for a few seconds. “And eventually, unless we can stop it, it is possible Taylor in the real world WILL dream the song one night. Her muse will push it into her brain. The idea will pop into her mind, like an artistic Inception placed there by Leonardo DiCaprio and his pals. She won’t be able to let go of it. She’ll sit down at her piano, strum her guitar, sing into her voice notes on her phone. And that’s when the idea will really take hold… Hey Siri…. Play hey Siri… Even though the song was written using programming, a deepfake in this creative world… it will appear to genuinely have come from Taylor in the real world.”

“Whoa. Sorry, I just can’t stop saying whoa! Whoa.” Kymmie was freaking out. “WHOA!!!!!”

Her dad shifted his stance uneasily. “Tell me again, what does a deepfake Taylor Swift song have to do with Strangies and Emma Watson?” Carl Lyle the lawyer asked calmly. “Just so I have all the details.”

“Well… I think the plan is to use that song somehow to influence other artists and create more strangles by getting them to also quit making art, with enough Strangies Museland can be overrun, all of art in complete chaos, making it easy for someone else to take control of this place and control every muse how they see fit… from what we understand Taylor’s muse was supposed to give it to the other muses spread it from the original music box… throw a big party in the Folklore Forest here in Big Magic, and perform the song for all the other muses so it would spread to all the other muses… and it’s possible that other musicians out there in the real world will then be fed the same song and there will be hundreds or thousands of musicians out there in the world who all write the same song at the same exact time, it could turn into one of the largest examples of multiple discovery, serendipity, a whole new level of Zeitgeist. Every artist creating the same artwork at the same time. Like I said before, Ozzy and I and our team think the song was never supposed to leave here and go into the real world, but we think The Hollywood Whales have underestimated the creative connection that Taylor Swift has to her own muse… Taylor and her muse are super tight, like the best of besties. And, even if it doesn’t and Taylor never writes that song, from what we can tell, The Whale still be able to use the song here along with The King Whale muse to influence Taylor in the real world because one of those artists with a muse here that Emma Watson’s Strangies can get to is Joe Alywyn.” Finneas and Ozzy shared a look, “It’s possible that The Whale’s approach is multi-layered. That if one plan fails, another additional layer of planning will succeed. Backup plans to backup plans. Emma’s Strangies disrupt Joe Alywn’s muse… making him want to quit acting too. And, if he quits acting Taylor and Joe might break up… and THAT creates an entire ripple effect. The way that Kim Divorced Kanye… more Strangies disrupt more muses and create even more Strangies”

“Imma let you finish but first, Kim and I got divorced?” Ye said in disbelief.

“OH NO!” Sashy screamed out.

“Ooops. I guess you didn’t know about that yet.” Finneas stopped himself from saying any more.

“Damn.” Ye shook his head, still in disbelief. “I can’t believe Kim and I got divorced.” He refused to believe it. “I’m going to have to think of a plan to get her back then.”

“She’s also dating Pete Davidson now.” Finneas quickly added before Kanye could talk more about plans of getting her back.

“PETE DAVIDSON! If I wasn’t here in Museland I would beat his…”

Justin put a hand on Ye’s shoulder. “Now don’t do anything rash, just let God save you from the crash.”

“Well someone had to tell him.” Jillie said between bites of another Taylor Porkroll Ham Sandwhich.

“You’re eating another one of those?” Billie asked.

“I wanted a second one!”

“If you throw up later we’re not cleaning it up.” Sashy said to Jillie.

“Relax. I’ll be fine.” Jillie took a big bite and over emphasized how delicious the sandwich was.

“Wait, if we’re in here and our muses are in here too, who’s out there?” Kymmie asked.

“No one.” Finneas looked at Billie. “Life just goes on as if you were there even though you aren’t.”

“Sometimes I feel like I’m not really there. I’ll just leave the room, and end up somewhere else, and then eventually I return, and my mom is like JILLIE ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO YOUR FATHER AND I??? And I’ll be like… YES MOM! I heard you! Next time I won’t throw your clothes in the trash when I want to use the washer, I’ll just put them in the dryer.” Jillie took another bite of her sandwich.

“Jillie, you really should talk to someone about that.” Billie shared a concerned look with everyone else.

They sat in silience for a moment by the campfire as it crackled away.

“Finneas, what was that you saying about Joe Alwyn quitting acting?” Carl finally broke the silience.

“Oh, yes, well, if Joe gives up acting Taylor and Joe would eventually break up because they would begin to fight. Without acting, Joe would sit around at home all day and decide to start a collection of Cheetos that look like Abe Lincoln, which Taylor Swift’s cats would accidentally eat. This will then cause Joe and Taylor to fight over where the missing Cheeto collection went, as Taylor’s cats would never fess up to the crime… subsequently leading to their breakup. And then, once they break up, Taylor will just sit around writing sad 10 minute songs all day. She’ll say she’s not feeling All Too Well and will refuse to leave her home. And her Swifties will slowly become Strangies… and that’s exactly what The Whale wants… sad Swifties become… `Strangies. And then The King Whale can take control of them all… control them all, control them all, too well.”

“We have to do something!!!” Sashy screamed out again. Upset that anything bad or sad might happen to Taylor.

“We will try. But, it also may be too late for all we know, we received communication that Shawn Mendes is already making evil eye comments about Joe’s eyes… so we know Shawn’s muse is already starting to feel the effects of the Hey Siri song.” Finneas explained in a very serious and matter-of-fact tone.

“IT CAN’T BE TOO LATE! WE NEED TO STOP THIS! WE NEED TO FIND MILLIE’S MUSE!!!!” Sashy screamed once again even louder this time.

“I agree with Sashy, we need to find Millie’s Muse, fix everything, and then we need to get back to the real world!” Kymmie declared.

Finneas shook his head no. “I have to clarify, I keep saying real world, and this world… we’re still technically in the real world, this isn’t really a different world than the so-called normal world, it’s a bit like how the past, present, and future are all the same world, we’re still in the real world technically, we’re just slightly ahead of creative human thoughts, it’s just like, umm… Have you ever read The Langoliers?”

“No.” Kymmie replied shaking her head no, the other Teens also shook their head no.

“Well, it’s a story by Stephen King and it’s about lagging behind time, and then The Langoliers come and eat you up. This is like the reverse, we’re ahead of time, but it’s not exactly time that we’re ahead of, not in the way that we’re in the future. We’re just before time when it comes to creative thoughts and ideas. We’re inside the creative spark. We’re inside everyone’s collective imagination, their mind before they think of a thought that becomes a song, a book, a movie, a painting, any and all creative form of expression. This is that ‘AH-HA!’ moment, the ‘I HAVE AN IDEA’ place. And because we are inside the origin of creative thought for every artist on the planet anything we do here, can influence anyone else in the rest of the real world.”

“HOLY CRAP!” Jillie smiled and turned to the other teens, “We ARE influencers!”

“Jillie!” Billie laughed at her stan.

“Should have seen that coming.” Carl said to Scott.

“Fill me in?” Finneas whispered to his sister out of earshot of the teenagers.

“They’re all trying to be influencers. But they don’t have working phones or social media right now.” Billie explained to her brother. “So, they’re acting… strange.”

He mouthed the word ‘oh’ back to his sister before continuing his train of thought, a sane train of thought—sane, at least for now, “So, you all want to be influencers, I think I have a way to explain it all… okay, remember when I said The King Whale released the song ‘Hey Siri’ as if it were Taylor’s song?”

“Yeah.” The teens collectively nodded.

“And remember how I said that it was not yet release it to the actual world, and that as of right now it is stuck here in this big magic world, this creative Coachella inception dream state?“

“The land before time world.” Jillie commented and Kymmie made a note in her notebook.

LAND BEFORE TIME WORLD.

“Okay, so, this song… this viral song… what exactly is it doing again?” Kymmie asked, holding her dad’s pen close to the paper, ready to write down anything and every bit of information Finneas had to offer. “Sorry, I’m having a hard time paying attention to all of this, can you just get to the point already?”

“Okay basically, it’s infecting everyone’s muse and flooding all creative sparks so they can then be completely controlled. Every creative person in the world, everyone who makes art in any capacity, every single artist alive. Each and every one of them, their muse will be infected by this earworm and not even know it.”

“Go on…” Kymmie wrote notes in her journal. She subconsciously began to mimic the way her dad worked as memories of watching him work from the doorway of his home office, or papers sprawled across the dining room table before her mom telling him that ‘dinner and business need to be kept separate’ began to creep their way into her creative consciousness: Muse flood, spark control, earworm infection.

FINNEAS CONT’D:

“What will eventually happen after all is said and done, is that every creator on the planet will eventually create art thinking it’s their own art, but really, it’s being fed to them, as if it’s their own. Like Trojan artwork. They open the creative gates and let it into their mind and make art, and all of that art they create will really be for the purpose of creating art to influence and control all future art.”

“Those sound-like very bad influencers.” Jillie looked to Kymmie.

“Well, we won’t be like that, we’ll be good influencers.” Kymmie said back to Jillie.

“Yeah.” Jillie nodded back at Kymmie. “We’re only going to use our influence to make the world a better place!”

“Were we like that when we were starting out?” Finneas whispered to Billie out of earshot from the wannabe influencer Tik Tok Teens.

“I don’t know… probably.” Billie watched the teens playing a quick game of rock paper scissors, each time they threw a rock, or paper, or scissors, their hands actually turned into each object. Kymmie turned into Edward Scissor Hands for a brief second during her turn when she threw scissors. Carl, the lawyer, had a concerned look. A moment later Kymmie, Jillie, Sashy and Stan were paying attention once again to Finneas…

“SO what happens next?” Stan asked.

“Well… Whatever any artist out there in the world is doing—we’ll just keep saying the real world, the world we came from—whatever they are doing, they will THINK that they WANT to do that, but it’s really entirely and completely going to slowly become this ‘Hey Siri’ song—The Whale’s song feeding their creative muse. So, Taylor will most likely want to start making lots of sad autumn sounding songs, even when it’s not autumn, even in winter… or spring, or summer—It will always be autumn in Taylor Swift’s mind—”

“TAYLOR AND JOE ARE GOING TO BREAK UP!” Sashy screamed out in an over the top overly dramatic cry.

“Sashy, don’t worry, we’re going to stop it. Taylor and Joe aren’t going to break up. We’ll find the buzzing bee, and Buzzy Lee and she’ll lead us to Strange Town and where we’ll meet Millie’s Muse and she’ll take care of all the Strangies and Joe’s Muse won’t convince him to quit acting and then Joe and Taylor won’t break up!!!”

“Excuse me, I don’t mean to interrupt…” a woman entered stage left… or maybe it was stage right… It all depends on which way you look at it. “I’m here for the midnight river meeting, I brought some rust.”

“Rust?” Billie asked.

The blonde-haired woman with hair cut short held up an old bag that appeared to be from the old west... on the bag it says RUST and in small letters it says Property of Alec Baldwin, just below that it says safetyforsarah.com. “I was asked to bring this to the midnight river meeting.”

“Oh! Hmmm,” Billie thought for a second, “All I know is that it meets at midnight. The Midnight River Meeting meets at midnight... but I don’t know where it meets. There was someone else looking for that SAMEmeeting, and I think SHE might know if you can find her. Her name is… umm…” Billie tried to recall her name, “Sarah Jones, yes, Sarah, she’s…” Billie looked around, “…here somewhere… I don’t know where she went though.”

“Sarah! Yes! SARAH JONES! I’m looking for her! SO she IS here… Oh, thank you! THANK YOU SOO much!!! If you see her tell her I’m looking for her, my name is Halyna Hutchins...” The woman smiled at Billie then walked away.

Kymmie wrote her name down in her book, ‘Halyna Hutchins’. Kymmie’s book began to quiver and shake and flipped to a new page on its own, the page was a screenplay from a scene in a movie called “Rust”. The screen took place inside of a church, a shootout scene of some sort. Kymmie read a note scribbled in the margin.

The live round of ammunition came from a gun that belongs to THE WHALE.

Safety For HALYNA.

Safety for SARAH.

Safety for EMMA.

SAFETY ON SET FOR ALL IN FRONT AND BEHIND THE CAMERA!!!

“Look!” Kymmie held up the book for everyone to see. She pointed to where it said THE WHALE.

“The Whale!” Jillie yelled out.

“Shhh… keep your voice down young lady.” Carl said in a parental tone.

“Whatever…” Jillie shook her head in a disapproving manner.

“The Whale is behind ALL of this… without a doubt, it’s gotta be The Whale. Who else would be doing this?” Kymmie turned towards Billie, “I mean, you and your brother already said it was him but THIS is proof.” Kymmie’s dad, THE LAWYER seemed uneasy with the current situation, he shifted his stance.

INTERIOR – DAY – HOTEL LOBBY

A lawyer shifts his stance uneasy and looks around as though he’s looking for someone that is late for a business meeting. He then looked back at his daughter.

“You don’t know that for sure.” Carl replied. “That book could be giving you false information. Remember, you did find it on the side of the road. Be very careful what you believe. For all you know that book in your hand belongs to Emma Watson and she’s telling you what to think and you’re just believing everything she says to you without thinking things through like I taught you. Sure, she’s right about all the climate change information she posts, even though I’m paid handsomely to believe otherwise, and off the record, I agree with her feminist views and fervent activism, but you can’t simply pick up a book left out on the sidewalk and start believing everything it tells you… Emma is known to leave books for people to find, it could have been left on purpose by her or one of her Book Fairies. For all we know she’s feeding us this information right now because she wants us to see it.”

“Hmmm… But… Dad… look at what it says… it has to be real!” Kymmie held the book up for everyone to see.

“I know what it says, we all do, because you keep showing everyone what it says instead of keeping your diary entries a private matter, as they should be. Kymmie, let me put it like this, let’s say you follow Emma Watson on Instagram.”

“I do.” She smiled.

“And you comment on her posts.”

“I do.” She nodded excitedly.

“And she doesn’t comment back or reply to your messages or send you a direct message.”

“Hmmm… she doesn’t. But I know she can see everything I tell her! I just know it!”

“Well, let’s say Emma Watson does see everything you post, let’s say one day you received a Direct Message out of the blue from an account that isn’t her official verified account, and it’s instead an account labeled ‘Emma Waston’ and this account begins talking to you as if she were Emma Watson, and she tells you that she very much so appreciates all your lovely comments.”

“Well that’s stupid, no one is actually going to believe she’s Emma Watson, the name on the account is Emma Waston—”

“Yes, that is true. But, maybe it’s a secret account.” Carl suggested.

“I mean, okay, so why wouldn’t she just message me from her REAL account?”

“Exactly.” Carl nodded. “Unless… she used this account as a special SECRET account.”

“Oh that’s true! So maybe it really is her! Famous people have secret Instagram accounts! Emma Waston could REALLY secretly be Emma Watson! She’s just being secret!”

Carl nodded, “But… maybe it’s not actually her. Maybe it’s someone else, a catfish.”

“Oh… Hmmmm…” Kymmie looked at the book then back up at her father. “Well… how do I know if it really is HER then?”

Carl smiled, satisfied. “You don’t. Without the verified check it could be anyone, anyone at all…”

She looked back at the book, what a persuasive argument. “So then who sent this message?”

“Exactly.” Carl replied in a satisfied tone. Nothing like a little father daughter lawyering.

Finneas continued ignoring The Lawyer’s argument, “The Whale IS behind it all. And if it works the way it’s planned, he’ll be able to suggest art into the mind of every creator. He’ll control the entire pipeline of ideas from start to finish. He’ll control who creates art, when and where and what kind of art they make. And that art will affect the feelings of anyone who consumes it… complete creative manipulation.”

“Whoa. There it is again, Kymmie, your whoa-ing is contagious… I, um… whoa!” Jillie clamored.

“Sorry Jillsy… Wait why does it say safety for EMMA?” Kymmie asked. “Let’s just say I do believe what’s written in this book… Why would it say that?”

“I’m not sure.” Billie answered. “Is she behind a camera now too?”

Finneas shrugged, “it’s possible… anything is possible. She might be. Her muse is under the influence of The ‘Hey Siri’ Whale Song… Emma out in the real world could be doing some very strange things… Once a muse creates Strangies here in this place, it’s hard to go back… they’re like free radicals in your bloodstream… This isn’t Babes in Toyland we’re talking about, it’s Strangies in Museland and Strangies in Museland cause creative chaos and wreak havoc on the creative process. It can lead to madness.”

Kymmie flipped through the book trying to find more information, nothing. How did she know if this was really real. She thought about what her dad said, how could she know if the Emma Waston Instagram account sending her DMs was REALLY Emma Watson in disguise and not really an imposter? An Emmaposter Watson. How am I supposed to tell what is real and what is fake anymore? She turned back to the page she was on before.

Cold guns. Warm guns. Smoking guns. Poking funs. Don’t let The Whale Song silence Alec from making fun.

Safety on set.

The show must go on.

“What does that mean?” Kymmie asked, showing only Jillie the new writing that had just appeared in her journal instead of everyone.

Jillie shrugged. “I don’t know, the only making fun I know of was when he made fun of Trump on Saturday Night Live.”

Kymmie and Jillie both pondered what the mysterious message was trying to convey to them… Maybe Alec Baldwin’s fans were now all Strangies too? Maybe the Strangies were spreading… Free radicals in the creative bloodstream. Wreaking Hollywood havoc. Strangies in Museland. Saftey on set… but here in this place… there are no safety protocols… anything goes… it’s the most dangerous movie set anyone could ever imagine… because it is anything anyone could ever imagine.

“We gotta get out of here. Get everyone else… We can’t stay here. It’s not safe.” Finneas looked towards the exit of the hotel. By all first impressions you would think this hotel is The Westin Bonaventure Hotel & Suites in downtown Los Angeles. But it’s not, it’s simply an imaginary version of it that only exists because everyone thinks it exists. It is nothing more than a Hotel California, going to California in my mind and with an aching in my heart, but if you’d rather it be Carolina instead, all you have to do is think about direction, wonder why you haven’t before. “You have to think of this place like a giant movie set, it’s a movie set where anything and everything can happen, it’s the origin imagination. If you can dream it, think of it, imagine it, it can happen here, it does happen here, it WILL happen here. We aren’t in LA LA Land anymore. And all it takes is a single thought… You think it, you dream it… it pops into your imagination, there’s no build time, there’s no editing process, there’s no pre-production or post-production or any production costs at all for that matter… it’s pure real time production…. If you can dream it, you can build it the very moment you think of it. It’s like a gun going off without even pulling the trigger. If you even THINK a single thought about the gun going off, it will go off. Anything inside that mind of yours can become real in zero time flat!”

“Yeah yeah yeah, Rin Tin Tin Finny Fin Fin… ALLLLL I heard from that is how I can get anything I can possibly think of the moment I think of it… anything I want when I want it…and all I have to say about that is… THAT is AWESOME!” Jillie smiled. She began to dream. A small bubble above her head began to fill with images, it floated up and away carrying the images with it, like a floating snow globe.

Finneas shook his head, frustrated with his sister’s tumultuous teen stan, “Yes, it CAN be awesome, anything is possible here, pure imagination knows no boundaries, but as I said, it’s just like a movie set with no one to oversee any safety guidelines and there’s no limit to anything. No budget, no finite restrictions, it’s completely infinite creative thought. Yes, Jillie, it’s awesome—” Finneas turned his attention to the other Tik Tok Teens. “But not all thoughts are good thoughts, not all creative thoughts are safe and constructive… some are pure chaos… destruction. I know that you’ve had passing thoughts inside those young minds of yours that have been thoughts you would never want to climb out of your minds and stand in front of you. Imagine any thought that pops into anyone’s head anywhere in the world, and all those thoughts could possibly pop into your own head without warning… now imagine being on a movie set that can build those creative thoughts the moment they pop into existence, into YOUR mind, and you have no way of stopping them unless you can think of another thought quick enough to stop the previous thought. If you think of a trapdoor, there’s a trapdoor. Without warning, there’s a new floor under you, or ceiling above you, or another sun in the sky… going from standing upright to floating in Zero G. Without anything to stop your thoughts it becomes the most dangerous movie set you’ve ever stepped foot on. Anything is possible, anything can happen, and it all depends not just what is in each and every single one of your own minds, but what’s in all of our minds… even YOU can become something entirely different, you can think yourselves into danger… but we can also think each other into danger.”

“That sounds dangerous.” Billie replied. “That sounds REALLY dangerous.”

Finneas nodded with a hint of panic in his eyes. “Exactly. So keep an eye out. Watch your step. We’re not in LA anymore. This place isn’t anything like ANYWHERE you’ve ever been…” Finneas looked at The Whale in conversation with Travis Scott’s muse. The King Whale held up a tablet size screen with a countdown clock on it, like he was pitching an idea to Travis Scott’s muse, something to be fed to Travis Scott out in the real world… The Whale was up to something, always up to something, always planning, manipulating, calculating, coercing. The Whale’s muse, The King Whale, continued speaking with Travis Scott’s muse but looked back at Finneas and smiled a spooky smile before turning his attention back to the countdown clock. Chills ran down Finneas’ neck. “Ah! Lizzo! Keep those darn things in your purse!”

“Sorry!” Lizzo put her tiny purse on the ground and the chills ran across the floor and back into her tiny purse.

Finneas waved to everyone pointing at the hotel exit, “Come on, let’s go. We’re on shuffle right now… Time is about to change, and if that lobster is right about the dolphins, I don’t think we want to stick around to see what comes next.”

“You noticed that too, the time and dates are all time signatures!” Stan said excitedly. “Like we’re in a Marvel movie!”

“Stan, we’re not a in a Marvel movie. We’re in a Taylor Swift movie.” Sashy’s tone of voice was his usual sassy self.

“I can see it both ways.” Kymmie said with a smile to both of them. “And maybe it’s a Marvel movie where Taylor Swift takes over the world.”

Stan and Sashy looked at one another then back to Kymmie.

“It’s one or the other, not both.” Stan said back to Kymmie.

“Yeah, it’s one or the other.” Sashy agreed.

“Okay. Well… maybe it will be one or the other, I haven’t decided yet. Right now, it’s both!” Kymmie smirked and made flirty eyes at both Stan and Sashy.

Stan and Sashy looked at one another like they could become future foes.

Finneas pointed to Ozzy, “Soooooooooo, anywaaaaaaay…. about that time thing… We think part of this world is like being in a giant playlist. It would seem as though it’s some kind of giant Spotify playlist, on shuffle… Time isn’t linear anymore, it’s shuffled. I mean, time is STILL time, it’s just time isn’t on time, love isn’t always on time and time isn’t either anymore, it’s tempo and meter and, musical key… Honestly, I don’t even know and our team is still working on figuring that out. But, Ozzy was trying to explain it all, he says he’s been here before years ago in his Black Sabbath days and thinks this might help.” Finneas held up some sort of strange device that the teens had never seen before.

“What is that?” Kymmie asked standing beside Billie. The other Tik Tok Teens run over and gawk at it.

“It’s an 8-track. You can’t shuffle it… You can’t rewind it… it just plays… Like time. Like how time SHOULDbe. Or, the way we were used to time being.” Finneas paused. “Tapes go forward and backward… Records and CDs can skip around, Streaming playlists can shuffle between songs from different albums on a whim… But 8-Tracks? 8-Tracks are a continuous loop and only go forward, there’s no rewind, just like time. And 8-tracks have something else, it’s called… quadraphonic sound.”

“QUADRAPHONIC!??!?!?! THAT’S OUR NAME!!!!” Jillie screamed out in an over-the-top excited voice. “Wait, isn’t it? I forget, that was, like… yesterday, or something. Or was it yesterday? It feels like 5 minutes ago, but it also feels like yesterday…“

“I don’t know, umm sure.” Billie shrugged trying to answer her stan’s question. “To be honest I wasn’t really paying attention.”

“This place is weird; it really is weird, Billie, and it keeps getting weirder by the minute. Or is it hour? Or day? Or week… what month is it? What is going on right now!?!?!? What year is it?!?!” Jillie began to freak out.

“It’s Twenty Swiftie!” Sashy smiled.

“Twenty Swiftie, that’s right.” Jillie said in an unsure voice. “Twenty Swiftie… I can’t believe it’s Twenty Swifie already! It was JUST Nineteen Swiftie!”

Kymmie opened her journal and began to talk to it while she wrote, “Kymmie’s log, Museland stardate Twenty Swiftie… There… seems to be… some kind of… time warp everyone is doing, again.”

Finneas shared a look with Billie before continuing, the look was something along the lines of ‘where did you find these teenagers?’ and Billie’s look back at her brother was something like ‘I didn’t. They found me!’, Finneas started to explain the Quadraphonic music experience, “There’s something about a quadraphonic mix where…”

Ozzy jumped in, “It’s where the four output channels pan in sequence through the four source channels to create a rotating sensation.”

“Whoa. A rotating sensation… I wanna try!!!” Jillie yelled.

“I WANT TO TRY TOO!!! I want to rotate my senses!!!” Kymmie screamed with excitement. They began to whirl around a few feet off the ground. “Whoaooooaoaoaoaoaoaao.” They spun around in circles vertically and horizonally flipping and twisting like a gymnast.

Finneas shook his head at the teen stans. He whispered to his sister. “They need to learn to take this more serious, because things are going to get very serious very fast.” He turned to the stans and spoke in a loud booming voice, “That’s not at all what Ozzy said but I will show you all how Quadrophenia works, not right now… but I promise everyone will get to try the rotating sensation, or sense rotation, whichever one you prefer.”

The teens floated back on to the ground. “YESSSSSS!!!!!” Kymmie yelled out.

“I think I’m gonna be sick.” Jillie held her stomach and turned green.

“WE TOLD YOU NOT TO EAT THAT SANDWICH!” Billie yelled at her teen stan.

Jillie’s color returned back to normal.

“It’s okay Lish, I got it under control.”

“Recording Quadraphonic sounds is tricky, it can’t be done automatically, we need two mixing engineers who can coordinate their efforts to create the effect, with new music.” Finneas tried to explain, the soon to be abandoned campfire site nearby now burning slightly dimmer.

“I’m so confused.” Jillie shook her head no.

“I think I understand.” Kymmie said to Jillie, “We need to make new “old” music?”

“Yeah. Something like that.” Finneas nodded. “Quadraphonic… Space… Forward… Time, figuring out which way is up, Emma Watson’s Strangies… Hey Siri… It will all make sense eventually… trust me. Anyway, let’s go. Our ride should be here any minute now.” Finneas looked towards the exit then back to the campfire. He snapped his fingers and the campfire extinguished itself. It continued smoldering for a few seconds… then instead of going out completely the fire burst into flames once more. Finneas noticed Jillie’s eyes fixed on the fire as it began to grow in size, Jillie stared at it as the fire grew, hotter and the flames continued to rise higher into the air. Finneas snapped his fingers again, the fire dimmed just slightly, but then continued to grow, faster now. “JILLIE! CLOSE YOUR EYES!” Finneas yelled.

“Why? This fire is so crazy.” Jillie replied in a daze. The fire grew even taller, hotter, an inferno quickly spiraling upwards, out of control like a wildfire. Jillie’s emerald eyes hypnotized by the towering bonfire. ”It’s so… so fire wild…” her voice slow and monotone. The song Firestarter by The Prodigy began to play.

Billie looked at her brother and then back to her stan. “JILLIE!!! JUST CLOSE YOUR EYES!!!!”

“But…” She replied again, her attention completely engulphed in the bright dancing flames. Her seafoam green ocean eyes unable to look away from it.

“JILLIE!!!!!!!!!” Kymmie yelled pulling on Jillie’s arm pleading with her. “CLOSE YOUR EYES!!! JILLIE CLOSE YOUR EYES!!!!” Kymmie pulled at Jillie trying to bring her back from the light and for a second Jillie turned to look at Kymmie…. The fire momentarily flickered.

“Fine.” Jillie huffed shaking her head and blinking her eyes trying to cut the connection from her mind to her desire to see the fire grow upwards into the sky. She then closed her eyes tight, keeping them closed, and the fire stopped growing.

Containment. Creative containment.

Finneas held his arms out like he was picking up an invisible water bucket. He heaved the invisible substance onto the fire and the fire flickered then went out entirely. Finneas shook his head as he showed a concerned look. Billie’s eyes were wide with alarm as she stared back at her brother. They need to learn to take this serious, because things are going to get very serious, very fast. “Most dangerous movie set you’ve ever been on.” Finneas repeated back to the group. “Remember, we are NOT in LA anymore! THIS IS NOT A GAME! Try to keep your thoughts in check… meditate, practice mindfulness, be present and stay in this moment. Keep your thoughts calm and collected and don’t let your emotions take over. Okay?”

“Way to almost burn the place down.” Sashy said to Jillie inspecting his gown for burn marks.

“Sorry.” Jillie apologized to the group. “Guys, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to… like, I just couldn’t stop. I tried to but I couldn’t stop!” She looked away from everyone, “I tried to stop but I wanted more and I’m soooooo sorry. I almost hurt everyone because I couldn’t stop wanting more. I’m sorry. I screwed up! I’m screwed up. I’m sorry, my brain is just messed up sometimes! I wanted more fire. It was beautiful. I wanted it, I wanted more and I’m sorry, sometimes my mind just, I think there’s something wrong with me or with my thoughts or…”

“Hey, kiddo…” Finneas knelt eye level with Jillie. “It’s okay,” He gave a comforting smile to his sister’s stan. “Really, it’s OKAY. There’s nothing wrong with your thoughts… we all have thoughts that if people knew what they were would probably think we were crazy. And in the real world, no one can hear your thoughts but you… but here… every thought in your mind can become real…”

Jillie wiped a wet eye and shook her head yes. “I promise it won’t happen again. Sometimes I just… I get carried away with my thoughts… but I promise I won’t let that happen again.”

Kymmie began to think about her own thoughts…

I don’t want anyone to know my thoughts… I don’t want anyone to know my thoughts, my thoughts are weird. My thoughts aren’t normal. I don’t always think nice things or good things or… I don’t want my thoughts to become real things!

“Kymmie are you okay?” Finneas asked Kymmie noticing that she looked to be deep in thought.

“Yeah. I’m fine.” She smiled back.

Finneas nodded then stood back up to address the rest of the group, “Come on, our ride is almost here.”

“Ride?” Billie asked.

“Just come on, let’s go, I’ll explain everything, I promise.”

“Wow.” Kymmie shook her head, “Everything just keeps getting more complicated! How am I ever going to pass this test? And now I have to figure out how to rotate my senses!” …and not let any of my weird thoughts escape from my mind!

“Don’t worry, we’ll all help you figure it out.” Everyone in the group smiled back at her.

Kymmie looked at her journal and noticed new lettering had appeared.

ROLL CALL. PLEASE TAKE ROLL.

“Wait, I have to take roll!” She proclaimed excitedly.

“Take roll?” Her dad asked.

“Yeah, look, the book says so!” She showed a new page in her journal that asked for roll call of everyone present. “Maybe I can’t post tik’s or Insta pics or scroll through social media at the moment, but at least I can take roll!”

“Don’t fill that out.” Her dad said. “As your dad and your attorney, I advise you NOT to fill that out. Please remember our previous conversation about Emma Watson—”

“BUT I have to!!!! I need to get something right. I need to fill something out. I need to figure it out! Dad, you said you would help me figure it out!!!! I NEED TO DO THIS!!!!! I can’t… control… my thoughts… DAD, JUST LET ME DO THIS!!! PLEASE!!!!”

“Well… alright.” Kymmie’s dad said the words with only a slight hint of annoyance. Perhaps he was slightly more than perturbed, but he hid it well. It’s more likely he was scared but just didn’t want to show it that either. In Museland keeping a pokerbrain was key.

“Whoa Kymmie, okay just calm down and fill it out then!” Sashy said with a smile.

“Dooo it! Dooo it!!!! Dooooo it!!!!! DOOOOO IT!!!” Jillie cheered. Pompoms in her hands. “Go Kymmie! If she can’t do it no one can!!!!!” Jillie jumped up and down, now wearing a full cheerleader uniform. “WHOAAAAAA!!!!!! LOOK AT THIS COOL CHEER GEAR!!!!!!!!! I’m okay with this thought being real.”

“Okay now YOU need to calm down.” Sashy pointed his finger at Jillie.

“GO KYMMIE!!! GO KYMMIE!!!” Jillie shouted as she jumped up and down.

Kymmie laughed. “Okay, who’s present….” She looked around. “YOU! Who are you and what is your role?”

“You know who I am.” Billie stopped talking, Kymmie stood there waiting with her pen and her open journal. Billie continued, rolling her eyes. “Okay, fine, I’m Billie Eilish…”

“And your role?” Kymmie held the book closer to the pen.

“What do you mean? Role? Like… I’m Billie Eilish…. I don’t know… I’m Billie Eilish?”

“Hmmm….” Kymmie wrote just Billie’s name and then looked up. “If I were to cast you in a movie, what part would you play? Like, what do you do?”

“Umm…” Billie thought for a moment. “I’m team captain of The Billies.” She shrugged at Justin Bieber and then made an ‘I don’t know’ face at Finneas.

“Okay. And you?” She pointed at her dad.

“Kymmie, I’m your dad.”

“WHAT IS YOUR NAME!?!?! AND WHAT DO YOU DO!”

Carl blinked twice, then sighed. “Carl Lyle Lawyer, I’m the Carlyle Attorney. And I pay for all those expensive phones you keep breaking.”

Kymmie wrote in her journal then pointed her dad’s fancy expensive pen at her next subject. “And you?”

“I’m Finneas. And…” He paused. “I’m here to rock the world! Duh.”

Billie looked from Finneas to Kymmie, “Wait can I change my answer? I wanna rock the world too!”

“No! You already put an answer down. You’re captain of The Billies.”

Billie made a ‘this isn’t fair’ face.

“NEXT!!!” Kymmie yelled.

“I’m Ozzy Osbourne. I’m innssaaaanottins, but isshanortsih rott and rocaaak.”

“Okay, I didn’t understand ANY of that.” Kymmie scratched her head in confusion. ‘I’m just going to put down Crazy Train Conductor.” She pressed her dad’s fancy lawyer’s pen to the paper, that might as well be her pen now and spoke aloud while she wrote. “Ozzy Osbourne, Conductor of the Crazy Train!”

Ozzy smiled and nodded pulling out a new extra fancy conductor’s hat and putting it on. “ALL ABOARD!!!!!!! HAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHHAHA!!!!!” He screamed out in a joyful yet slightly crazy tone.

“Let’s see… And you’re Lizzo, holder of the tiny purse and pied piper flautist.”

Lizzo nodded. “I like that.”

“And… Oak Felder, world renowned music producer.”

“Well thank you.” Oak Felder smiled back.

“Kanye West, no longer named Kanye, now goes by Ye.” Kanye pulled out a pair of shades and put them on over an existing pair of shades he was already wearing. The two pair of shades morphed into one new pair.

“And newly single ready to mingle.” He said in a cool Kanye voice. “But with a plan to get Kim back.”

Stan reached in his own pocket and pulled out the exact same pair of shades and put them on. “If he’s no longer Kanye West, does that mean I can change my name to Kanye West?” Stan asked trying to mimic the way Kanye was standing.

“No Stan. You can’t.” Kanye replied to his stan, but Stan seemed to be already considering the idea anyway.

“I don’t know if I would just go by Kanye, or say the entire name… Kanye West… or just say New Kanye, or maybe NKW… K Y Westie…”

Kymmie laughed at Stan and Stan smiled back at her.

“And you’re Stan. And your role is to make me laugh and be a cute boy that I think I like, but I’m not sure if I REALLY like you, but I think I do.”

Carl rolled his eyes and shook his head.

“But I like you as well… The way that Pete Davidson likes Kim Kardashian. Or maybe it’s the way Kim likes Pete?” She pointed at Sashy. “I don’t know why I just said that… it was like the thought just kind of popped into my head and then it popped out of my head all on its own! And now everyone knows a thought that I didn’t want everyone to know!!! Also, are Pete and Kim REALLY a thing now?”

Ye and Stan rolled their eyes behind their sunglasses. Stan was glad Kymmie couldn’t see his reaction behind the sunglasses, and Kanye was glad Kim couldn’t see his reaction either.

“And your name is Sashy and your role is to wear that gown and not let people step on it and to tell people to calm down.”

“And to find out where all my Swifties went! And fix my Swifter so that I can turn all of you into Taylor fans just like me! And we can just love Taylor Swift’s music forever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever… I love Taylor so much! And, also, my role is to find Taylor’s muse here in Museworld… before the Strangies do.” Sashy continued speaking, piggy backing off the end of Kymmie’s original sentence.

“No, that’s not a good idea.” Carl suggested. “Finding Taylor’s muse is a very bad idea. We don’t want to do that, we want to stay far away from Taylor’s muse.”

“I agree with that…” Finneas jumped into the conversation hurriedly. “We don’t want to interact with anyone’s muse… Especially with Taylor Swift’s.”

Sashy made a ‘whatever’ face crossing his arms and waving them away with one of his hands while keeping his arms crossed.

“Okay, who else… “ Kymmie pointed to Pop Wansel. “YOU!”

“I’m Pop. Pop Wansel. And umm… my role is… I just kind of came in with Oak… We were at his studio working on a beat, when you all showed up with Taylor Swift’s masters that you stole from the Bielibers after the Swifties tried to ambush you, and that was after Taylor and her Swifties stormed Big Machine Records and Scooter Braun still kept Taylor from getting her Masters, but Taylor got them back anyway because she tricked Justin into trading her masters back to him in exchange for his cats that Taylor catnapped because it was bring your cat to work day and Justin had his cat at Big Machine Label Group’s headquarters when the Swifties stormed Big Machine trying to capture her old masters tracks and instead they captured Justin’s cat. Did I get it all?”

“Yeah, pretty much.” Justin nodded.

“And now we’re here.” Pop pointed in every direction around him.

“In the creative ether.” Jillie added.

“Yeah.” Pop replied. “Or, what is it called?”

“MUSELAND! That’s what I’m calling it.” Jillie agreed. “It’s like Disneyland but not… It’s Museland!”

“I don’t know how I feel about Museland, we should make up a cool name for it.” Kymmie said to Jillie.

“That is a cool name!” Finneas said to Jillie. “What’s wrong with Museland? I like Museland! Jillie, Museland is good, don’t let Kymmie talk to you out of it.”

“Hmmm… Maybe Museland isn’t so great.”

“WHAT?!?!?!” Finneas threw his arms up in frustration. “MUSELAND IS AWESOME! It’s like GRACELAND! I mean anything with LAND at the end is great, really. But Museland is perfect!”

“Alright, well, we’ll have to think of something.” Jillie nodded at Kymmie, ignoring Finneas. “Ohhh, wait, I know! What about CREATIVELAND!!! That’s also like DISNEYLAND, but for being creative!”

“Creativeland?!?!? Jillie, no. Museland… stick with Museland. Creativeland? That just sonds like Cleveland. No one wants to call this place Cleveland. That just makes me think of That ‘70s Show!” Finneas caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, for just a split second he could have sworn his reflection was that of Topher Grace’s character Eric Forman. “Whoa!” He closed his eyes then opened them again and was back to himself.

Kymmie made a, ‘maybe’ face.

“Well, I like Creativeland!” Jillie crossed her arms and looked away the same way that Sashy had just done.

“Just use Museland.” Finneas said to Jillie and Kymmie. “Museland is good!”

“You’re wasting your energy.” Billie shook her head at her brother. “They’re just going to do whatever they want to do anyway. Don’t let yourself get sucked into their drama.”

“Well, we’ll put it to a vote later and see which one wins. Right now I’m in the middle of something! I have to finish taking roll!” Kymmie decreed. “Okay who’s left…” Kymmie waved her pen about like a wand. “YOU!”

“Umm… I’m Scott Borchetta.”

“And…”

Scott looked at Kymmie’s dad, Carl, the Carlyle Lawyer. “I decline to comment.”

“That’s not an option!” Kymmie shook her head at both her dad and Scott Borchetta.

“Okay, fine, I don’t know, I’m just here to talk about the old days.”

“Old man.” Kymmie said as she wrote ‘Scott Borchetta is an old man’.

“HEY! I’m not an old man!” Scott growled.

“Too bad, I already wrote it down, and it’s in pen so there’s no delete button. Scott Borchetta is an old man!” She held up the book then looked at it again with a smile having completed her task of taking roll of everyone currently present in their group. “Wait… weird. There’s new writing below the list! It says… Thank you for the list of names… -T.S.” She squinted closer nearly putting her entire head inside the book, “And look! Some of them are underlined in red!!! I wonder what that means? Look Scott, yours is underlined in red, that must mean something special, and Ye yours is underlined and… Dad, yours is underlined too! Weird.”

Carl cleared his throat and spoke in an out of character somewhat nervously unsteady voice. “We should get going.” He glanced around, seemingly spooked.

“Okay.” Kymmie nodded and spoke softly to herself as she inspected the page in her journal… “A list of names… and some are in RED underlined… weird. I wonder who T.S. is… Oh well, at least I got SOMETHING done! I feel so accomplished!!!”

“That’s great, honey.” Carl feigned a worried smile at his daughter. “You did great.” When she looked away his face flashed a worried look, then flashed back to his normal poker face and poker brain, keeping his Carl thoughts in check.

“Oh, I almost forgot…” Finneas showed a nervous smile, ”Um, Justin, you know that earworm that’s stuck in your head?”

“Yeah. What about it?” Justin looked at Finneas, dubiously.

“I wrote that song. But to be fair… I didn’t know that’s what Selena Gomez had in mind when she asked me to help her write ‘Lose You to Love Me’.”

“You suck so much.” Justin narrowed his eyes and made a sour face.

“Sorry about that.” Finneas shrugged.

Carl cleared his throat again, this time really loud then he looked at his watch.

Kymmie made an annoyed face at her dad. “Alright! We’re going… Geeeeez DAAAAAAD.”

Kymmie put her book away, then pulled it out again. “WAIT! I forgot one more name, that guy from earlier that saved us in the tunnel of sound! He kind of just disappeared but I’m going to write his name down anyway… William Bowery… magic key holder. There we go, finished. I wonder where he is now?”

“He’s probably with Taylor.” Sashy said with a smile then pulled out the set of rainbow keys William Bowery had left behind and inspected them. They glowed and glimmered in the light like rainbow kryptonite.

Kymmie looked at her book, William Bowery’s name wasn’t in RED underlined, instead, it had pink hearts around it. “Hmmm… strange. I wonder what that means?” She closed the book and put it away. “Well, hopefully I didn’t forget anyone! Okay, dad, let’s go!” She then turned to Finneas, “Where’s our ride, Fin man. I’m ready to rock and roll!”

The group headed for the door and Jillie caught a glance of herself in a hotel mirror.

“BILLIE!!! LOOK!!!! MY HAIR IS BLONDE LIKE YOURS!!!!!!” Jillie screamed out, “WE MATCH AGAIN—” Jillie abruptly stopped speaking mouth gaped open.

“What?” Billie turned to look into the mirror too. Billie’s hair had changed again this time from blonde to brunette. “Whoops. Sorry Jillzy!” Billie stuck her tongue out and then smiled at her teen stan.

Jillian Jean growled, and her face turned green again. “Billie! We’re supposed to match!”

“Well, slow-poke, catch up!” Billie smiled. “I might keep this hair color for a while… but, hey, you never know I might change it!”

They all began walking towards the exit again as a group.

Through the open door the wheels of a fast car screeched to a stop. Carl the attorney approved of this fast car as it met the specification of the one he had suggested to Scott earlier… as your attorney I suggest you get a very fast car with no top, get out of LA… tape recorder for special music… and Acapulco shirts… Ozzy had brought the 8-track tape recorder for special music, the fast car was now waiting outside, there was still the matter of megaphones but he was not too worried, after all, this is Big Magic, or Museland, or Creativeland as Jillie named it—anyone can acquire anything with enough pure imaginative thought, as for the shirts—

Finneas stopped walking and stared for a moment pointing to the attorney who had somehow managed to ditch the suit and was now wearing an Acapulco shirt and some shorts, “Whoa, I like the shirt…”

“Thanks.” Carl smiled a sizable smile, probably the largest one he’d smiled in years. “You want one?”

“Sure!” Finneas replied, also with sizable smile.

Carl let his poker brain down for a minute and his thoughts streamed out of his mind and out into Museland… they swirled around the group like a tornado filled with freshly washed clean laundry. Suddenly they were all wearing Acapulco shirts. Even Sashy had one on under the calm down gown.

“WHOA!” Kymmie screamed out. “LOOK!!! WE ALL MATCH! Cooooooooool!”

Finneas turned to the rest of the group. “Come on, let’s go. Our ride has arrived!”

@taylorswift

[aliensunflower-fics]

Adrien ‘Amok’ Agreste: A dark theory/prompt

I believe that there is something more to Emilie Agreste's coma. I believe that there is something more to the broken peacock pin. I believe that the Adrien Agreste that we know and love is an amok. And that he has been for a very long time. In fact, I believe that the original Adrien Agreste is dead, and has been for many many years.

Why do I believe this? Simple, I believe that when the show tells me that THE wish Gabriel so desires would have consequences that they aren't just saying the wish has consequences but rather that all magic may have consequences. Wielding the power of the gods must surely come with a price to pay. And I believe Emilie Agreste paid that price with her very life. All so that 'Adrien' could become real. Now I base this on the fact that the wish would have consequences but also on what I can see in the show. Marinette has terrible luck, her gifts always backfire, her best-laid plans blow up in her face, sure she has a loving family but even they think she's so clumsy that they don't fully trust her. I believe that Tikki is eating Marinette's luck. What about Plagg and Adrien? Well if I'm correct then I'm not sure how Amok Adrien wielding a miraculous could work but id easily argue that Adrien has a tendency to destroy that which is most important to him, we have all seen the other timelines, after all.

But enough about that. Let's get to the meat of the topic. Emilie Agreste and a certain peacock brooch. I don't think Emilie simply collapsed from a broken pin [though I do believe it is what was making Nathalie sick.] I think the pin was once completely fine, unbroken, and fully functional. And I think Emilie Agreste was used to using it, bringing toys to life for young Adrien's entertainment! In order to pay her price, Duusu would take just a bit of Emilie's life force not enough to impact the woman's life much, but she'd be tired at the end of the day, too exhausted to do much of anything physically. But I think she was friends Duusu, and loved hearing and seeing Adrien laugh and play amazed by his mother's magic!

And then Adrien Agreste died. And in order to bring him back, I believe Emilie broke the rules of the peacock, she defied the temporary nature of the magic and in-exchange for her very own life she gave birth for a second time to Adrien, an amok with the true soul of a human. Of course, this sucked out Emilie's own life leaving her an empty shell, and as for Duusu and the miraculous? After having its magic so violated it broke and went dormant, waiting for the day that Mayura would appear. Only because the miraculous was still broken it began sapping away more of the woman's health than it would have otherwise had it been whole.

I believe Gabriel knew of the Miraculous and what they could do but never thought much of it until it was too late. I think Emilie kept what she did, a secret a dark, and when Gabriel found her unconscious that the broken pin was his only clue leading him to believe that it was his mistake allowing a strange magical artifact into his home in the first place.

Now with that explanation, I present to you my dark little prompt on how Emilie and Adrien Agreste died:

Adrien Agreste died on his 5th birthday. His father was at work until that evening, and there was no party [they had all agreed to have the party in two days when it was the weekend and everyone was free]. In order to keep Adrien entertained and make his birthday extra special Emilie had transformed using Duusu and was using her powers to bring to life Adrien's toys. It wasn't the first time she'd done this but she kept the occurrences rare, a special treat, and a special secret that they were NEVER to tell Daddy about! Adrien was good at keeping secrets and loved playing with the 'friends' his mother would make him. She'd reenact fairytales for him she'd chase him around. It was special it was fun, it was everything Emilie ever wanted.

And then something went wrong.

Maybe Adrien slipped and fell, maybe he was reckless and hid in a dangerous spot without knowing, maybe when they stopped for lunch he ate something he was allergic to. All you need to know is Adrien Agreste died on that day, his mother screaming and crying and begging for everything to just be a bad dream. She NEEDED it to be a bad dream. Adrien was her life, her soul, her reason for being. She did not want another child she wanted HER child her precious perfect baby boy! And then perhaps it was something Duusu said, perhaps the idea came over her like a possession. But in that moment despite Duusu's pleading, despite knowing the risks, despite the fact that reality was staring her in the face. She transformed and called for every ounce of magic she had and she commanded the miraculous to bend to her will twisting and breaking the magic and its laws. And when the feather sunk into Adrien's lifeless corpse it jolted and twitched and was overcome. And suddenly there he was! Her bouncing perfect happy baby boy! He jumped into his mama's arms and she laughed and twirled him holding him closer to herself. She had FIXED him, everything was okay now. That night Gabriel returned trying in vain to hide a massive teddy bear behind his back. He laughed and smiled when Adrien his 'son' ran up to greet him and cling to his legs. He never noticed how tired Emilie looked.

But unknown to her the smallest crack had appeared in the miraculous. And it would only grow.

Adrien was fragile. As she would come to learn. Two days after the day he died they were all celebrating at the boy's late birthday party, Chloe, Felix and Adrien were playing. Chasing each other around and having fun while only Emilie looked after them, Gabriel was inside away from the children catching up with Audrey, Andre, and Amelie's husband. Amelie her sister had gone to get them drinks saying she'd be right back. And then Adrien tripped on his untied shoelace and hit his head. And then he didn't get up. His body twitched and shook, Chloe screamed and ran inside, while Felix tripped and fell to the ground unable to tear his eyes away while his cousin seemed to melt away revealing SOMETHING. Emilie ran to her childs side calling all of Duusu's magic into her hands. By the time Gabriel made it outside 'Adrien' was just fine with only a little scratch and a bit of blood on his perfect little head. Emilie smiled tiredly and told Audrey and her husband that Chloe had just gotten a little scared when Adrien fell and started crying. Chloe tried to deny the claim, tried to say Adrien's body had been OOZING something but her parents simply rolled their eyes and told her to stop being dramatic about a little blood. Felix meanwhile ran into his mothers arms and said he wanted to go home. The sisters shared jokes about how dramatic children could be!

Emilie thought that would be the end of it. But it would happen several times each time she would just barely be able to call on the magic to keep Adrien together, and each time she was very VERY lucky that Gabriel had missed it. But it was clear to Emilie that Adrien was too fragile for school, she needed to keep her child home where she could keep him safe and sound. And so when it came time for Adrien's annual check up Emilie volunteered to take him alone after all Gabriel was a busy man he needed to focus on work right now, so that one day Adrien could inherit the company! The doctor she chose looked perfect on paper, but all it took was a little cash to convince the man that Adrien was a sickly weak child who's health would suffer if he were to attend public school. When Emilie returned home with the bad news her husband was concerned un-sure if they shouldn't perhaps try to get a second opinion after all Adrien seemed fine! He was such an energetic happy boy! Emilie felt guilt gnaw at her insides as for the next month she distracted her husband with excuses and lies, finally he saw it her way and told Adrien himself that they would have to break their promise he would not be going to public school. Adrien threw tantrum but Emilie ended it easily. Adrien was always SO well behaved for her, he always listened to EVERYTHING she said. Her perfect baby boy, who was going to be safe now, safe and home.

As the years wore on Emilie grew weaker, unknown to her the miraculous she wore had gained cracks and fissures another one for each and everytime she defied the laws of nature to keep her 'perfect' child alive and well. Duusu had tried many times over the years to make the woman see reason until finally she grew tired of the arguing and commanded the little god to stay quiet and listen to her every word. Duusu had no choice but to nod and continue watching as Emilie destroyed her own soul, giving her life piece by piece to the amok she called 'son'.

And Adrien? Well he was PERFECT. He grew up just like Emilie wanted, he looked just like she always thought he would as a child, he never spoke out of turn, never fought her for anything, he was polie, kind, innocent, sweet, a romantic like herself, he was like a prince from the fairytale books she used to read him every single night. He learned everything so quickly it made Emilie glow in pride. It was like Adrien had become everything she ever wanted and hoped for. Gabriel was just as proud though he sometimes admited he was envious at how Adrien seemed to listen to his mother more then he listened to his dear old dad. Emilie would just laugh and say it was because Adrien was a momma's boy and that it would change when he got older. But she honestly hoped it never did. After all her son was perfect the way he was now! And who wouldn't want a perfect son?

And then it was his birthday again.

Just like all those many years ago, Gabriel was busy with work. It was just her and Adrien yet again. They plaid piano, they watched her movie, they read books together, it was perfect just perfect. And then... It wasn't.

The second time Adrien died. Nothing went wrong. He got up to get his mother a cup of tea and then he was on the floor. Emilie ran to his side and called for the magic to keep him sustained like she had every single time before for so many years. But the miraculous glitched and sputtered too broken to listen to the command. Emilie was forced to watch as her now teenage son, her perfect wonderful flawless son, dissolved away. Until the only thing that remained was the body of a 5 year old taken too soon from the cold cruel world. He hadn't changed at all. Still like she saw him all those years ago. Still dead.

And for the first time ever Emilie allowed herself to weep and allowed reality to break into her perfect wonderful life. Adrien was dead. He'd been dead this whole time, the boy she raised the boy she loved he was a being of her own making. A creature she had burdened with all her hopes and dreams a creature she had shaped into a perfect ideal son. But Adrien... Her Adrien. He hadn't been a perfect child. He'd been reckless, he'd been overdramatic, he threw tantrums, he pouted and wailed and was naive, sometimes he just would not listen to her. And when he'd died she had not only refused to accept his death, but she'd refused to acknowledge who he actually was. The Adrien she'd been raising was a pretty lie, a perfect painting covering a rotting canvas. So she cried and screamed and wailed. She mourned her child, the real and the fake. She mourned her marriage had Gabriel even noticed how sick and weak she was? She mourned for the years she would not have and the things she would not see.

And Duusu. Duusu who had tried to warn the woman, Duusu who had been her dearest friend once upon a time, Duusu who already knew what she was going to do, Duusu who felt tired his body aching as his miraculous broke more with each act of twisted magic, Duusu who laid his little paw on Emilie's cheek and cried his own tears and gave the woman a solemn nod.

Just once more Emilie called for the magic and just once more she twisted it and broke it and shaped it. But this time she let go, she let go of all restraint, this time she let go of her own soul, this time she let go of who she wanted Adrien to be and instead remembered who he WAS. This time, this very last time she would for the third time gave birth to another life. The first had been Adrien, the second had been what she wanted him to be, and this last time he would be who he wanted to be. The feather again sunk into the childs body.

When Adrien awoke his head lay on his mothers lap. She looked pale and tired, had she always looked this tired? She smiled a weak and frail little smile and told him he'd fallen asleep. That night Gabriel came home with a gift hidden behind his back for Adrien. And he remarked that Emilie looked like she needed some rest while Adrien tore open his present. Emilie just smiled and said she would get some later, she wanted to spend time with her family tonight and take in every last second she could.

Perhaps it was the universes blessing that gave Emilie a little more time with her son. Or perhaps she'd been a little selfish in the end and made sure she had enough life left over so she could bask in the warmth of her sunshine one last time. But in the end she broke the laws of the universe and magic, and she had a price to pay. But she was happy now, so happy, Adrien even if he was made from her energy, a feather and some magic, was real now, he was free, and he would grow up and live his own life, maybe have his own children. She would never see them but she would love them through Adrien. It was with that thought that Emilie finally fell asleep.

Gabriel would never know what truly happened to his wife. Duusu would never tell him, the poor man would blame himself, and magic, yet he'd seek it out same as his wife had so he could cling to the past. And Adrien? Well Adrien was dead. But he was also alive, and for the first time in years he was free. But now he had to figure out what that meant.

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[fbfh]

hey, sailor - leo x daughter of poseidon

genre: a little bit of angst, a little bit of fluff, a lot of mermaids lol

word count: 2.4k

au: none really, you have mermaid powers as a daughter of poseidon if that counts lmao

pairing: Leo x Daughter of Poseidon

requested: yeeyee !! hope u enjoy xoxo

warnings: uh brief mention of your step dad leaving when you were younger, an interaction with your best friend doesn’t go as planned, percy’s grappling with rlly complicated feelings towards his dad and new sister 

summary: Percy, Annabeth, and Leo all get a little more than they bargained for when they bring Percy’s half sister back to camp Halfblood, and Leo remembers why he had such a huge crush on Ariel growing up. 

reccomended songs: hurricane drunk - florence + the machine, sinkin’ in - cody simpson, deep sea ambiance

a/n: as soon as i got this request my dormant mermaid phase woke up from a sound sleep 

requests r open uwu

"...And you know what he said to me? He says, 'kid, I think it's time you met your sister'. I have a freaking sister, and that two timing piece harpy sh-"

"Okay, Percy, why don't you cool off a little before we leave. Come on, we'll grab a drink or something while Leo finishes getting ready." 

Annabeth takes her boyfriend's hand, and leads him to the nearest drink cooler. Leo turns back to the car they're going to take, and continues loading in the rest of the supplies. He, for one, is excited to meet Percy’s sister. His first thought was ‘hope she’s hot’, which he blurted out before he could stop himself, and was met with a killer glare from both of them. He’s not trying to be insensitive, finding out you have siblings you didn’t know about is kind of traumatic. I mean, hey, Leo’s family went from zero to sixty in one day - literally. Okay, not quite sixty, but only child to one of eight is still a pretty big jump. 

A little while later, they’re ready to go. Leo offers to drive, so Percy and Annabeth can sit in back and try to sort out Percy’s feelings. After a couple hours of driving and emotional conversations, most of which Leo just listened to - Annabeth seemed to have a good hold on this, and Leo didn’t want to overstep his bounds again - they arrived in Cape Cod. At this point, the gist seems to be that Percy knows if he should be mad at anyone, it’s his dad. They park in the driveway of the address Chiron gave them. They get out of the car, and look up at the house. It’s gray with white trimming, two or three stories, with a balcony porch on the upper floor - a normal, small town New England house, as far as they could tell. They seemed to take a collective breath, and approached the door. 

You’re breathing fast, trying to hold back the floodgates of emotion, when your bare feet hit the sand. You drop your bag, taking in the familiar, secluded stretch of the Cape. A big wall of jagged rocks to your left separates this part of the beach from the others. The old wooden stairs and their faded white paint that connected the low cliff to the sand below are hidden by plant life, so most people don’t even know this area existes. You’ve been coming here regularly since you were nine or ten. So many important parts of your life happened on these shores. You could just tell your mom ‘I’m going to my beach’, and she’d know right where you are. You finish pulling off your shorts and rush towards the water in your swimsuit. You’re met with immediate relief as soon as the water touches your skin. If it was possible to have an emotional support location, you did. 

You feel it happen as soon as you’re waist deep. Bubbles and sea foam collect around you from the hips down and your legs get tingly and numb. A moment later, it dissipates, leaving behind a life sized mermaid tail. It changes slightly with most transformations, usually based on your mood and desired appearance, and you’ve noticed over the years you can change how it looks more easily. You don’t care today, you just need to be in the water. This time it’s a big tropical fish tail, its purple, blue, and shimmery gray tones reflecting both your mood and the impending storm clouds rolling in. You dip below the surface, and let the tide carry you a little ways. You don’t worry about getting lost, you somehow always know where you are at sea. You don’t have gills that you can find, but you can definitely breathe underwater. 

You finally sink to the bottom, and stare up at the surface of the water. The patterns of light remind you of the night light you had as a child. 

Your mom had ensured you were comfortable with water and ocean life for as long as you could remember. She must know other people like you, because sometimes she would have long phone conversations with someone called the Director. You were pretty sure he had a weird name that started with a K or C, but you could never remember. He’s apparently sending someone to bring you to a ‘safe place’ today. It sounds like bullshit to you, but you trust your mom, and your mom trusts the Director. Since you might not be back for a while, she said you could finally tell your best friend Wes the truth. 

‘Oh god,’ you think, wishing the salt water would erase your memories of what happened today, but you can’t stop the onslaught of memories. Wes has been your best friend for years. You helped him when he realized he’s bi, he helped you when your step dad left, you could trust him with anything. Or so you thought. ‘It’s not his fault,’ you remind yourself, trying futilely to stop reliving what happened hours earlier. 

You brought him to your part of the beach to go swimming so you could show him. You can still hear his voice, asking if you’re sure you want to go in the ocean, you’ve always been afraid of water. Once you’d worked up the nerves to get in the water and transform, you showed him your tail. Your heart broke again every time you remembered what he had said. 

“That is... incredible,” your heart had soared, there was hope, “I can’t believe you got one of those silicone swimming tails just to prank me!” Ah, there it was. The other shoe. You tried to tell him it was real, but he said he could see the mold lines, and there the scales don’t quite line up, and there’s the edge of the zipper. You wanted to cry. 

“I’m not gonna lie, you almost had me for a second. I can’t believe you learned to swim just to prank me, but whatever works, dude,” he laughed like you were having a good time together. It was too much.

You let out a huge underwater scream, and thunder rumbles in the distance. You sink further down, wishing once again that the salt and algae would erode your memories from today. 

Annabeth knocks on the door for the third time. Thankfully, it opens to a middle aged woman in a shirt that said Brooklyn Nine Nine.

“Hello, what can I help you with?” she asks. She has a strong presence, and none of them want to be on her bad side. Percy is still too nervous, and Leo seems to be analyzing wires poking out of the doorbell, so Annabeth introduces themselves, and asks where you are. 

“Who wants to know?” she asks. 

“We’re her internet friends, we’re surprising her by visiting a day early.” Annabeth replies. The woman doesn’t seem convinced. She smiles, seeming to see right through them. 

“Are you from camp?” The shock on their faces gives her all the answer she needs. She smiles, and continues, “She’s down at the Cape, the quiet part past the rocks.” They thank her, but before they can leave she says, “Hey.” She looks at each of them intensely. 

“Make sure she gets there safely. Take care of her.” They agree solemnly, and head down the sidewalk. 

“And tell Chiron I say hi.” she says with a smile. They smile back, agreeing again. 

They get to the Cape, and it’s full of people. 

“Shouldn’t be any harder than a Where’s Waldo,” Leo says. Percy’s head snaps to the right, and thunder rumbles. 

“Did you hear that?” he asks. 

“The thunder? Yeah,” Annabeth says.

“No, no.. someone screaming.” 

“I don’t-” 

“This way,” he takes off towards a pile of jagged rocks. They manage to get over with only a few scrapes and Percy surveys the empty beach. 

“She’s here… She’s here somewhere,” he mutters to himself. The dark clouds part for a moment, and Annabeth points out to the water. Someone was there, pretty far out to sea. She could just make out their shoulders and head above the water. 

“Gods, Percy, can you get her to shore?” 

“Ah ah ah, uncle Leo’s got this one,” Leo pulls something out of his backpack. It’s bronze, and the size and shape of a deflated soccer ball. He throws it into the water. It starts to sink, then expands into a small bronze and wood speed boat. Percy and Annabeth’s jaws drop. He hops in, revving the engine to life.  They sail out over the water, Percy directing them around currents and waves. They can see the figure clearly now, and they’re sure it’s you. You’re looking away from them, out towards the darkening sky. The boat starts to slow down, and makes a whining noise. Their eyes dart to Leo.

“It’s probably just a sticky piston,” white smoke leaks from the engine, “... and I should check the coolant, too.” He opens up a panel, and starts to tweak a couple things. He sits on the edge of the boat to get a better angle, and reaches into his tool belt. He pulls out a wrench, and almost in slow motion, feels it slip between his finger tips, and into the water with a light plip.

“Shit!” He covers his mouth, worried he scared you off. Three heads turn to where you were a moment ago. Gone. He feels that familiar shameful heat creep into his stomach and cheeks. 

“Sorry guys, I-” 

“You dropped this,” He looks into the water, and you’re right next to the boat, handing him the wrench. 

“...Thanks,” he says, his heart speeding up. Your hair is wet and beads of water glisten on your skin. Your red bikini top sure isn’t doing anything to slow his racing pulse, either. Your hands brush as he takes the tool from you. You smile, and the clouds part - literally. A beam of golden sun shines behind you, making you glow. His heart is in his throat, and he knows he’s probably grinning and blushing like an idiot. 

Percy stares at your head, poking up over the side of the boat. Your hair is dyed shades of blue and teal and seafoam that blend right in with the water, but your roots are dark. He takes in your freckles, your tan lines, and your eyes… they look like part of the sea - shells, or waves, or something. He watches as Leo takes the tool, and a smile appears at the side of your mouth - the same smile he’s seen in the mirror, the same smile he’s seen on his dad. He sees all these familiar traits and knows it’s true, you’re his sister. The realization hits him like a truck, and he’s suddenly choked up. Annabeth sees this, and places a hand on his shoulder. She looks between Percy and an infatuated Leo, and takes the reins for the whole ‘the gods are real’ speech. 

“Hi,” she says, giving Percy’s hand a squeeze, “I’m Annabeth, this is Percy, and Leo. We were sent here to take you to a safe place for kids like us-”

“Ohmygod, finally,” the tension leaves your shoulders and you sigh in relief, “you have no idea how hard it’s been keeping all of this a secret, trying to be normal…” You push yourself up the side of the boat Ariel style, and pull yourself in, the edge of your tail draped slightly off the boat as you continue, “I seriously thought I was losing it for a while…” you trail off, watching them stare at your tail. 

“You’re not… you’re not merfolk, are you?” The confusion on their faces says it all. Panic rises in your chest as you start to dive off the boat. Before you can, Leo grabs your hand.

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay. We all have weird powers, it’s part of being a demigod.” He shows you his free hand, and flames suddenly dance across his palm. Part of your fear is replaced with confusion. 

“A what?” you ask. 

“A demigod.” you look over at Percy, who’s speaking since the first time since you’ve met him, “Our dad is Poseidon, god of the sea.” You scrunch your eyebrows, processing what he said. Annabeth smiles at the gesture, having seen her boyfriend do it a thousand times. 

“Wait… our?” He takes in a breath.

“I’m Percy, your brother.” 

The ride back to shore is a little awkward, to say the least. They had finished explaining about camp and the gods and monsters a few minutes ago, and it’s been pretty much silent since. Annabeth sits next to you, and hands you a water bottle. 

“He just needs some time,” she tells you quietly, “Poseidon’s not really supposed to have children, and Percy got a hard time for it when he was younger. He also… he thought his dad was really in love with his mom, so finding out he has a sister so close in age…” You nod in understanding. She pats you on the shoulder, and sits next to Percy at the back of the boat. You scooch up a little closer to Leo as gracefully as you can, which isn’t much, considering you have to drag along an almost 60 pound fish tail. Leo looks over at you from the controls. 

“Weird day, huh?” he asks. 

“Yeah…” 

“So how long does it take to, uh,” he nods down and you flick your tail, “de-fishify?”

You laugh. 

“Once I’m dry,” you look up at the summer sun reemerging, a little surprised that it hadn’t stormed. Then again, if children of Poseidon really could make sea storms, it made sense that it had died down now that you and Percy were feeling better. 

“which shouldn’t take long.” you finish. You look over at Percy, who’s having a quiet intense conversation with Annabeth. 

“He knows I didn’t ask for this, right?” Leo looks back at them.

“He does,” he replies. 

“It’s so surreal finding out I have a sibling I knew nothing about,” you mutter, mostly to yourself.

“Try finding out you have seven,” he laughs, shaking his head at the memory.

“Seven?!” your head snaps up to him. 

“Oh yeah,” he tells you the story of when he first came to camp, and you feel so much better already. Leo has such a comforting presence, the pain from all your problems softens a little just hearing him talk. You have a feeling you’re going to get a lot closer.

Little did you know, the feeling was mutual - and correct.