#jewellery items stolen

[marlinspirkhall]

I hope the things missing from the british museum randomly turn up in museums at or closer to their sites of origin months down the line from now & the new curators are like “Oh, this? We stole it fair and square.”

[meyousing]

ℂ𝕙𝕣𝕠𝕝𝕝𝕠, ℂ𝕒𝕝𝕞 𝕒𝕟𝕕 ℂ𝕒𝕝𝕔𝕦𝕝𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕕

𝕣𝕖𝕢𝕦𝕖𝕤𝕥: “i’ve tried to be tolerant, but your disobedience has reached a limit i cannot ignore.”

𝕤𝕪𝕟𝕠𝕡𝕤𝕚𝕤: as the love of your life and possibly even your soulmate, you were bewildered and disappointed to find out that chrollo would take the troupe’s word over yours.

𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕖𝕤: yandere chrollo x reader, manipulation and gaslighting, power imbalance, not necessarily a soulmate au just using the word for emphasis :) also uvo makes a dramatic appearance ONCE AGAIN… is this a sign that i should write something for him ??

Chrollo really is the love of your life. There is nothing that he wouldn’t do for you, no task too large, no matter at all what he would have to do to make it happen. It was only natural for him to keep an eye on your every move, an ear on your every word, to ensure you were being good. As dedicated and thieving as he was, he couldn’t just do everything for you while you rebelled and went against his wishes, where is the fairness in that? 

You, blissfully ignorant on the other hand, were enjoying your time with Chrollo and his troupe immensely. He had done so much for you, spoiled you, and treated you like a princess, both before and after telling you the truth about his lifestyle. Not to mention that the troupe treated you like gold personified, and it didn’t even feel like favouritism just because you were the “Boss’ Girl.” 

Machi had brought you stolen gifts before, like jewellery and expensive clothes because she thought you would like them. Of course, her ideas about what to pick had developed by watching and observing what Chrollo would bring you, though she would never admit that, simply replying that she only had a hunch you’d enjoy them. 

The boys of the troupe (usually Phinks and Uvogin, but the others always backed them up with agreement) would ask about people from your time before meeting Chrollo, and if there was anyone who they would need to teach a lesson to. You would only ever laugh, thanking them for the offer of protection but telling them that nobody had ever wronged you enough to warrant that. Insisting that the offer still stands, they would leave the topic but never fail to keep bringing it up as the days went on. 

You were very happy with your new life. Chrollo was a bit neurotic on the day that he decided to let the cat out of the bag, sporting a brand new look you had never seen in your time with him, explaining that you would be living differently now, you would travel with him and be by his side all the time, where you could have anything you ever wanted. Truthfully, the idea of spending the rest of your time beside him was already a lone factor to seal the deal, and he already spoiled you so much that you couldn’t expect anything to feel very different, with this just being a version of your relationship where you wouldn’t stay in one place.

 The spoiling part was not ever what excited you though, it was simply Chrollo’s show of care and attention to detail that had you falling head over heels. Nobody else had ever spent so much time and given so much devotion to ensuring your happiness, finding items catered to your tastes and interests. His choosing to go the material route was in his nature, you personally never cared much for the finer or more expensive things in life, though after discovering Chrollo’s true nature it made much more sense to you now. Who were you to not indulge the interest of your beloved? You may have been happy, but it was a shame that the feeling was not mutual. 

It was very early in the morning, earlier than what your new routine had you used to. You must have been jet-lagged, considering you had only been in your current location for a little over a day. Seated beside Shizuku, you watched and waited as she shuffled a set of cards, readying them to be passed out for you and a few of the others to play some rounds of Go Fish. With it being so early, you had awoken before Chrollo and decided to wander around the halls of your headquarters, to see who, if anyone else, was awake as well. You found yourself in what everyone decided was the main room, spotting Shizuku, Phinks, and Shalnark as they sat closely, cards already in hand. It was Shalnark who instantly spotted you peeking around the corner, asking if you would like to join them, saying that their game had barely started and they wouldn’t mind shuffling one more time. You gladly accepted, figuring a game or two couldn’t hurt as you waited for Chrollo to wake up. 

You shifted your eyes between all three of them, watching over their varying expressions and trying not to giggle at Phinks’ visible show of boredom when picking up his cards. You knew that as much as he enjoyed spending time with everyone, his own interests were certainly directed towards more upbeat scenarios than ones like this, he must have been just as eager as you for Chrollo’s arrival.  

“Is Boss up too?” he asked suddenly, tearing you from the small daydream you’d mustered up with a glance in your direction and verbal, indirect confirmation of your thoughts. You shook your head. 

“We were talking about how jet-lagged we felt last night, he’ll probably be out for a few more hours.” you shrugged then, frowning down at the cards in your hand as you noticed just how fatigued your eyes felt. 

“Guess it had the opposite effect on you then, eh?” he chuckled. You smiled with a chuckle of your own and nodded, not feeling too talkative as your tiredness started setting in now that you had acknowledged it. 

“Are you guys ready?” Shizuku asked, scanning over each of you. Assorted nods were given, with an upbeat “yup!” of agreement coming from Shalnark. One more voice came in a moment later.

“Not quite, I’ll have to borrow Y/N for a moment.”

Everyone looked up, mutual surprise adorning your faces as Chrollo stood in the doorway with hands concealed in his coat pockets. You noted how he looked ready for the day, fully dressed with his hair styled as if it hadn’t taken long at all, as if you hadn’t only been in this room for maybe ten minutes.

“Coming” you murmured, smiling apologetically at the others before getting up to rejoin Chrollo. He began walking when you met his side, a hand finding your waist as he guided you back to your bedroom. You hadn’t looked at his face for too long since his appearance, and despite being a quieter man you felt that he was being uncharacteristically quiet now. Even the way he opened the bedroom door and gestured to you to go in first, face nearly blank once you looked up, despite the chivalrous act. He didn’t even respond to your thanks, the only form of a reply being his gentle slam of the door as you shuffled over to the bed and sat at the end. He joined you shortly, gazing at you with heavy lids that you couldn’t quite discern. Was he feeling…lustful? Or perhaps he was disappointed, maybe you had done something wrong? But what could you have done? 

“Y/N, I’ve tried to be tolerant, but your disobedience has reached a limit I cannot ignore.”

Okay, it was the latter. You blinked in confusion, his words not reaching your brain in what should have been the right way (was there a right way? what did you do?) as you were sure that simply waking up and spending time with his troupe was not disobedient. If anything that should have made him happy! 

“What did I do?” you asked, concern lacing your features as you hugged your knees to your chest, self-soothing since the look in Chrollo’s eyes was starting to unnerve you. He blinked slowly, his breath deepening as he began to sigh and his hands met.

“I heard you laughing back there. What was so funny?” His voice was relaxed.

“Nothing?” you frowned, unsure of what exactly he was talking about. Your tone itself was questioning, dripping with confusion, yet it was misinterpreted by Chrollo, likely as some kind of snark when you saw his expression fall further. He held off on speaking for a moment, instead taking his time as he held your hands and moved to face you completely. You couldn’t help but mirror him by squeezing his hands gently and letting your legs fall back down, his affectionate actions combined with such borderline accusatory words only muddled your mind. 

“I understand that you may feel lonely when I join the troupe for the jobs that I assign them to. Do you think that gives you the right to try flirting with the other men while I’m away? Have you tried to seduce them into this very room?” 

Your brows furrowed deeply. 

“What gave you that idea?” 

“You didn’t think that they wouldn’t tell me, did you?” 

“Who?!” You clutched his hands a little tighter, completely bewildered not only by his claims but also by the idea of someone feeding these lies to him. Why would he take their word over yours anyway? Yes, this troupe has been with him since the beginning, but you had never deceived him before. You had no reason to start now. Perhaps you would have to voice this to him, considering his intensity had not let up yet.

“That doesn’t matter. What matters more is your indiscretions, and the painful thought that you assumed you could get away with them, right under my nose.”

 Yes, this confirmed that you would have to voice your thoughts to him.

“But it’s not true! I’ve never deceived you before, why would I start now?”

“Do you think my own troupe would deceive me, then?” He sat stiff and his eyes widened impossibly so, boring into you with such a suddenly dark aura, it made you feel like you were shrinking beneath him. 

“N-no, of course not” you nearly whispered, heartbeat speeding up when you realized your mistake, an eager urge taking over you to fix whatever mess you could have just gotten yourself into with a single, not so well thought out sentence. Caressing his wrist with your thumb, pressing your thigh to his, daringly reaching your other palm up to his face so you could press it into his cheek. Anything you could do to alleviate the sudden anxiety that you were feeling at the idea of being forced out of Chrollo’s good graces for something you never did. “I just want you to believe me, I would never–”

“Hey boss, I was–oh… you in the middle of something?” The door swung open unceremoniously to reveal Uvogin, whose expression went from casual to awkward. Tears rimmed your eyes at the sight, that feeling becoming mutual at the exposure of your current emotions and situation. 

On any other day, you were certain that Chrollo would be unhappy that a troupe member barged into his room without knocking, let alone permission. 

“We were just finishing up.” Chrollo stood then, exerting minimal effort to tear himself away from you completely and stand just a few feet away. You couldn’t help but keep your hands on him for as long as you could until he was entirely out of arm's reach, your cheeks burning in your own embarrassment when your limbs fell back into your lap with a thump. He faced you, keeping his back to Uvo and giving you the most gut-wrenchingly sweet grin. “Y/N will be staying in this room for a little while until she remembers the rules of our relationship. It’s upsetting that she forgot at all, perhaps this new schedule will clear her mind of such impurity.” Swivelling around on his heel, his back was to you now as he walked to the door.

Y/N will be staying in this room? He couldn’t be serious! You couldn’t find your voice, couldn’t think of any words to say, all you were able to do was shoot up from your spot and stay in place. You knew that trying to walk to the door would prove useless, as your anxiety had reached its peak and your entire body became numb, feeling like you were outside of it. 

“Oh, shame. Hey, it’s for the best though.” Uvo patted Chrollo’s back, squeezing it and beginning to walk away with him, his other hand reaching back for the doorknob. Please, no!

With the rest of your body frozen, you could only move your eyes which were trained intensely on Chrollo, noting how as he walked out his face looked different from the way it was mere moments ago. He looked neutral and much less sarcastic, if not more on the side of smugness as a soft grin began upturning his lips. 

The door slammed shut, made especially loud thanks to Uvo being the one to close it. The sound solidified the fact that Chrollo was leaving you, with an apparent visit inbound, but when? Collapsing back onto the mattress when your legs finally gave out from beneath you, you stared blankly at the ceiling. How could Chrollo have gone from so hopelessly romantic to disbelieving within mere moments? Everything had been just fine… yet a one-sided conversation was enough for him to make such a drastic decision. Your welcoming to Chrollo’s criminal lifestyle was done with ease, you had no problem turning a blind eye to your own morals because you fell in love with him, he was the love of your life. Perhaps what you truly fell in love with was not Chrollo, but a version of himself. One that was limited and crafted perfectly to your likes, wants to make you easier to control. Had you fallen for such a scheme so easily? 

Overthinking proved to be good in only one way, it made you even drowsier than you already had been, so at the very least you could sleep some time away as you waited for your beloved to come back to you. 

–

“I mean…you knew I wasn’t serious, right?” Uvo scratched at the back of his neck, his forehead wrinkling as he feared the worst, that he accidentally meddled in the Boss’ business, the Boss’ relationship, just for the sake of getting a few laughs. 

“Of course” Chrollo chuckled, patting Uvo’s back reassuringly. “But your timing was rather convenient, she was starting to get a little too comfortable with getting her way. Best to remind her who’s in charge, you were simply the catalyst to allow me to do so.”

© meyousing 2023. do not share/export my work on to any other platforms. do not translate my work. 

[hutahuta]

Subtle things he do when he in love with you with pavia?

P.AGE OO.3— 𝐃𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐔𝐌 & NOBILITY : 交 ✦ ⏱

GN!Reader — // wjajqksjwjs ilysm anon you're such a sweetheart !!! (*´▽`*)ﾉｼ

request more !! they're so fun.

i hope this is okay,, i'm not sure if I did good with this jwkskwkskk

Subtle? Ha. What's subtle about this man? ( *ᴗˬᴗ)⁾

But maybe. — it is possible.

Midnight Intimacy — Hear me out, I don't think Pavia would really sing in front of you. ( Or he might, it depends really. It might be really exaggerated since he does really want to hear your laughs. ) But he definitely hums a quiet melody, maybe even sings the words a little then and there under his thick accent as he holds your tender body close to him, rocking back and forth as if the both of you are sitting on one of those rocking chairs. Familiar songs that were popular dated back to the 1990's.

An era where music hit its prime with vinyl records and static radios with its rocking music blasting away at the seams, what's not to love about such things? I'd imagine it's something he finds quite joyous about life, given the only music he'd ever hear was the taps of water draining on the ground and the mice squeaking in quiet unison with one another. Silence was all he'd ever hear so hearing something so uplifting with words that strung out together so perfectly in mesh with the instrumentals; must've made him feel like music is the reason life has any meaning at all. And he wants to share that with you. Even if it's something so small as singing and dancing in that moment.

Spoiling you. — Wallets and leftover items that he'd pick up from his prey definitely meant that he'd get a chance of spoiling you with jewellery as a advantage to trap your attention. Even if you aren't keen on receiving lavish gifts, it doesn't matter. Because you're definitely given the necklace of a man's wife that he took it upon himself to grace you with. Maybe even a new watch plucked out of someone's wrist, which Pavia's ever so refined fingers had strangled the last, paled words out of his prey's throat before he had stolen the goods inside.

I'd imagine that as much of a passionate man he is, Pavia isn't keen on sharing much of his collections with strangers. But he is quite big on exhibiting his beautiful cabinet if it's with you, full of his draped stolen jewellery that can be given and devoted to you. New rings and chains to adorn your perfect clothes. Bby wants to impress you. Maybe a pair of earrings that would suit you quite nicely. His way of showing his love to you may vary from physical touch or spoiling you with his gifts.

Which does bring another factor into play.

Physical Touch. — Nearby, he may trail a hand down your thigh whenever you two chatter amongst each other. His hands graze your arms softly, trying to pay attention to your words as he can't help but linger his fingertips through your back. His hand stays a little too long on your waist. Eyes dance back and forth from your nose to your hands. Your clothes, your facial expressions and movements.. everything. His eyes may linger on you for longer periods of time,,

Don't take this as 'psychopath' behaviour. He just wants to get a feel of his beloved. What's not to love about you anyways? You're perfect in his eyes. All for him to keep too? Feels like the universe finally rewarded him with something so great in his life after his entire childhood was spent being greased and rotted away in a basement under the neglectful back of his Aunt.

Scent. — I suppose you can somewhat see it, right?

He enjoys the thought you wearing his clothes. His perfumes, his scents, he wants to make it rubbed entirely upon your body. He may get too close, nudging your shoulder with his chest. Maybe leaning into your ear for too long as you can feel his hands gripping and kneading the soft material of your clothing. He undoubtedly has the mindset that having you embroider his aroma may make others think that you are somewhat affiliated with Pavia. In more ways than one.

Historians may tell others that you two were only the bestest of friends.

[lord-armitage]

My ASOIAF hot take is that while I love the Greyjoy's as characters, the world-building for the Iron Isles is the weakest in the entire series, verging on just being bad.

They're a maritime power nation, historically the strongest military source in the world prior to aerospace, and GRRM had to nerf them by making every Iron Island leader a raging idiot who would repeatedly Leeroy Jenkins their way into embarrassing defeats. They're meant to be a stand-in for Vikings, but they lack any technological advances, education, advanced war tactics, intelligence networks, etc, which made the Vikings so powerful in the first place.

I also think there was a missed opportunity to make the culture of the Iron Isles... jauntier? More pirate-like? Where are the sea shanties? Where are the lavish descriptions of fresh seafood? Ironborn Ladies who mix in stolen jewellery with seashells and gull feathers? Are luxury and exotic items treated as common objects for a nation of naval traders? As it stands, the Iron Isles are a few miserable rocks inhabited by bastards who everyone else hates.

Idk I just think it's lazy world-building to make a terrible failcringe society that no-one in universe likes just so we as readers are meant to think "wow these guys suck."

[prince-rowan-of-the-forest]

Into the Snake's Den

----

Things going missing in a household of four wasn’t uncommon, really. It was normal enough to misplace a sock on laundry day, or get one of your shirts mixed up with someone else’s and never see it again, or misplace one piece of jewellery from a set. Losing things was not out of the ordinary, what was out of the ordinary was just how often it happened for this particular household.

Logan theorised they potentially had borrowers, and if that was the case Patton was content to let them stay, though Roman had always brought up the point that who - or what - ever the culprit was, it was stealing items much too large to be a borrower. Patton had offered the idea that perhaps it was a fairy, or a spirit who lived nearby, in which case the group was even more eager to drop the issue.

That was until something important went missing a few weeks later.

----

| Ao3 |

Warnings: None as far as I'm aware

Pairings: LAMP, DLAMP

Word Count: 4548

Notes:

I wrote this entire thing in one setting with encouragement from some awesome folks in the big bang server - I love you guys, lol.

Honestly, naga!janus in a non-explicit fic is so underrated - I think there really needs to be more snakey cuddles when the opportunity is so perfect, lol.

----

“Hey Pat - have you seen my cloak?” Came Virgil’s voice, sounding loudly through the house.

“No, bud, I haven’t seen it!” Patton yelled back as he worked on dinner, “Have you checked with Roman? I know he likes to borrow it sometimes-?”

His voice got quieter as Virgil actually joined him in the kitchen.

“I’ve already asked him,” He said, “Thought you might’ve washed it or something without telling me.”

“Nope… laundry day is tomorrow.” Patton shrugged and Virgil groaned. 

“Not again… that was my favourite cloak…” He mumbled, rubbing his face as he practically collapsed into the comfortable sofa next to Logan, who was reading a book on spells. 

Things going missing in a household of four wasn’t uncommon, really. It was normal enough to misplace a sock on laundry day, or get one of your shirts mixed up with someone else’s and never see it again, or misplace one piece of jewellery from a set. Losing things was not out of the ordinary, what was out of the ordinary was just how often it happened for this particular household. 

For the most part, it was things that weren’t really missed. Small things that didn’t matter all that much - little trinkets, an inexpensive belonging, usually something replaceable but personal. Sometimes it was more valuable items, jewellery - stolen especially from Roman and Virgil, who wore it most often - Art supplies from Patton or magical ingredients from Logan. 

Less often, but still notably more often than would be considered normal, bigger things went missing. Items of clothing, blankets from their beds, even pillows, occasionally. Other belongings - occasionally personal things too - would go missing too and Patton would find that a portion of whatever he had cooked would go missing as if by magic when he turned his back enough that he had started simply making extra. This had all started about a year ago, too, which leant more to the idea that this was suspicious. 

Today, it seemed, Virgil’s cloak had been taken. Patton could only assure him that they would get him a new one next time they went to the market. Nothing that had been taken had ever been returned. 

Logan theorised they potentially had borrowers, and if that was the case Patton was content to let them stay, though Roman had always brought up the point that who - or what - ever the culprit was, it was stealing items much too large to be a borrower. Patton had offered the idea that perhaps it was a fairy, or a spirit who lived nearby, in which case the group was even more eager to drop the issue. 

That was until something important went missing a few weeks later.  

—-

“Something’s not right,” Virgil hissed as he shook Logan awake one night.  Logan immediately got up, striking a match to light the candle on his nightstand and looking at Virgil - who’s eyes looked black in the dark. 

“What is it?”

“I don’t know, something’s wrong, I feel it,” He whispered, following Logan as he stood. The others had learned early on in their relationship that Virgil’s intuition was incredibly good; when he said something wasn’t right, he was almost always correct.

Glancing around as Logan paused to think, Logan’s eyes settled on a charcoal drawing that Roman had done of the four of them he kept in a frame, “Have you checked on the others?”

“Yeah - they’re both sleeping,” That was protocol, when Virgil felt that something was off in this way - he’d check on them first. 

“Alright, that’s promising - come on, we’ll check the casting room first.” Logan said. It was most likely that if something was wrong, that would be where it originated. A stray potion, a spilled pot of some ingredient messing with the aura of the place - not to mention Logan’s casting orb. 

The casting orb was a simple yet fairly rare magic tool - it allowed witches, like Logan, and other magic users - to store certain spells, keeping them constantly in place. The one Logan owned was mostly used to protect their home from any malevolent forces, there was one to grant them luck and it cast a generally positive magical aura that made it easier for all of them to perform their respective magic. 

When the pair entered the room, Virgil gasped. 

The door that led out to Patton’s greenhouse was wide open and from its glass case, the orb was missing. 

“Great,” Virgil said sarcastically. 

“We have to get it back,” Logan said immediately, “Not only is it incredibly valuable and dangerous in the wrong hands, but it is essential to keeping the others safe.”

Virgil’s expression twisted into a frown, “How are we gonna do that? We don’t even know what took it.”

“I’ll - figure something out,” Logan said, already heading over to his bookshelf, “If you could wake up the others?”

—-

“What are we doing out here in the middle of nowhere at whatever time in the morning again?” Roman complained as he led them down a barely trodden forest path, cutting back branches with his shimmering sword - that also served as a torch to light their way. Virgil was wearing a spare cloak that Patton was also sheltering under, clinging to Virgil’s side as the shadows swirled around them. Logan held his softly glowing staff and read from a book as they walked. 

“Left here, Roman,” Logan said quickly, “Sharply - and we’re looking for the creature that has stolen my orb.”

“Couldn’t this have waited ‘tll the morning?” Roman asked, veering left and swinging his sword in front of him to cut back brambles and clear a makeshift path. 

Virgil huffed, “You know how important the orb is, Princey, don’t be stuck up about it.”

“I just need my beauty sleep- woah…” Roman’s voice trailed off.

“Yes, your highness,” Virgil says with an exaggerated eye roll, though he fell quiet as he came into line beside Roman. Patton squeaked and Virgil gently squeezed his shoulders.-  trying not to pay attention to how the spare cloak was so scratchy and wasn’t the right size. Logan sighed.

“The trail goes in there,” Logan said, which none of them wanted to hear. Roman audibly groaned, both Patton and Virgil tensed. 

“That’s a naga den, no doubt about it,” Roman said quietly, looking at the large, dark cave entrance that lay open wide before them. A warm draft came from inside. Virgil wouldn’t mind it so much if it weren't for the suspiciously bone shaped - sticks, they were definitely sticks, he just shouldn’t think about it too hard, and he should absolutely not mention that within Patton’s earshot, “How important didja say this orb was? Like - is it worth our lives?”

The book in Logan’s hands snapped closed and he placed it carefully into his bag, placing both hands onto his staff instead, “We will not die as long as we do not mess this up.”

“And how exactly do we do that, specs?” Virgil asked gruffly - because how the fuck were they supposed to deal with a naga? Sure they were all magic users, but they weren’t that powerful.

“Well… Nagas are possessive, dangerous creatures,” Logan says, “Though their main defences are their tails and fangs, so long as you avoid getting caught in its tail you should not get hurt, hopefully, it will be sleeping and we will be able to sneak in to get the orb.”

“Don’t they have the best sense of smell and hearing like… ever, though?” Virgil asked, still looking at the cave, “And other crazy magic?”

Patton shivered, “Would- would it already know we’re here?”

“Well- It hasn’t come out to fight us, so I presume not,” Logan says, trying to placate, “If we can keep our spells and attacks ranged, we should all be okay.”

A dramatic sigh came from Roman’s right, “If you’d said that when we were at the house I would have brought my bow.”

Virgil glared at him, “You can channel magic through your sword, idiot.”

“Yeah - but the arrows are better-”

“Stop-” Logan commanded, both of them fell silent, feeling suitably cowed, “Unless you want to wake it up?”

With a sheepish look, Roman looked at his feet, “Right, sorry L.”

“Patton, you have your potions?” Logan asks a moment of silence later. 

“Yep - they’re mostly healing, though, I also brought snacks.”

“Well - I suppose the healing will be useful just in case,” Logan sighed, “You and I will hang back, Virgil and Roman should go in first.”

“What- why?” Roman protests.

“Your spells need line of sight and aim, if we are ahead of you you will be heavily hindered, mine do not,” Logan said, Virgil raised an eyebrow and he sighed and continued, “You are also a heavy hitter, and your shadow teleportation ability will make it easier for you to dodge, especially in a shadowy cave, plus you can see better.”

Virgil sighs, but doesn’t say anything - that reasoning is pretty sound., he supposed. 

“Are we ready?”

—-

The cave was dark, but unlike Virgil had expected, it didn’t necessarily smell bad, nor was it super damp - though it was a little humid, he supposed a naga would enjoy that.  The tunnel into the cave was fairly long, enough to make Virgil more and more nervous as they slowly and near silently traversed it, their path only lit by Roman’s sword. Something on the ground caught his eye and made him stop, Patton almost walked into him and whispered a quick ‘are you alright’ to him as Virgil bent down to pick it up. 

“Ro,” he whispered, “Light?”

Roman moved his sword closer to the thing Virgil had picked up, a small purple gemstone on a hooked wire, “I swear that’s familiar,” Roman whispered. 

“It’s my earring,” Virgil says as they continue to look at it, “The one I lost like a month ago?”

“Does that mean…” Patton whispered, before Logan nudged them both and put a finger to his lips, before pointing ahead of them. 

“Oh..” Roman whispered. A short ways ahead of them seemed to be the entrance to a much larger chamber, from which warm light seemed to spill into the tunnel. The four of them exchanged glances. Virgil especially shivered looking at it, that didn’t look like a particularly shadowy cave to him. “hm- before we go in, just in case we don’t come out.”

Logan tried to protest against Roman’s volume before he was pulled into a gentle kiss.  When he pulled away, Logan had a fond look on his face. Meanwhile Roman turned to Virgil and then Patton and did the same thing. 

That felt far too much like a goodbye. 

“Roman-” Virgil whispered before Roman was striding towards the chamber entrance, Logan reaches to grab him and pull him back but misses the back of his shirt by an inch. Virgil glances back at the other two and hurries after him, not about to let Roman be a self-sacrificing idiot for their sake. 

—-

When Roman reached the entrance of the chamber, he wasn’t sure what he was expecting and stopped short, rather than rushing in as planned. 

A naga, of course, and that’s what he saw, but he’d expected an intimidating, hissing creature, with coils and coils of tail ready to strangle or crush them, hissing with fangs ready to paralyse them with venom, he’d expected something dark and uncomfortable, not…

“Is that my shirt?” He asked dumbly to noone, only for Virgil to punch him in the arm for speaking so loudly, he turned to pout at him briefly before looking back at the scene before him. 

There was a naga, sure, and he was a little intimidating just for that fact, but really… Roman couldn’t force himself to be scared when he tried. 

He did have a mass of scaly tail that Roman was certain was strong enough to crush his bones, but right now it was coiled up and half buried in blankets he recognised, blankets, sheets, clothes and pillows that had been periodically going missing from their house. The naga’s tail was covered in shimmering gold and black scales, the gold glittering in the gentle light that filtered into the cave via some kind of magic and the black was iridescent. His torso too was a golden tan, flecked with the same shimmering yellow scales as his tail almost like freckles and cascades of soft looking warm brown hair obscured half of his face. 

In the naga’s arms was another pillow, though this one was dressed in what Roman was certain was one of his shirts that had gone missing fairly recently, his forked tongue was half out in his sleep in a frankly adorable ‘blep’. Roman found he could fathom fighting this creature less and less with every little detail he noticed. 

“This is…” Virgil whispered next to him. 

“Everything we’ve lost,” Patton finished, nodding. 

“But why?” Logan asked quietly, ever curious. Roman nodded, unable to help agreeing with the question - why did the naga want their things? Was this weird? Maybe a little, Roman thought it was almost cute. 

Roman turned his gaze to Logan as he seemed to scan the room, before his eyes settled on something, “The orb,” he whispered, pointing, “It’s over there.”

Right, that’s what they were here for, Logan’s orb. Roman followed his gaze to a small pile of trinkets across the room - all Logan’s things. His gaze slid to the other piles  scattered around, there was one for each of them. 

“I’ll get it,” Roman said eventually, already going to step forward before Virgil put his hand on his arm. 

A twisted, anxious expression was on his face and Virgil looked like he would rather be doing anything else right now, but he still said, “No - let me - I’m quieter.”

“Maybe,” Roman says softly, “But you don’t want to.”

“I don’t want you to be killed either-”

“I can take care of myself, V, it’ll be okay,” 

Patton shushed them hurriedly and the four of them turned to look at the naga, who murmured something and hugged the pillow closer whilst his tongue flicked out against it to smell the air, though he seemed to still be asleep. Logan seemed to realise something.

“This room is full of our scents already,” Logan whispered, drawing the attention of the other three, “It might not even notice we’re here - but we should still hurry, just-  do rock paper scissors if you have to.”

Roman turned to Virgil with a grin and held out his fist, Virgil rolled his eyes like this was a stupid idea but joined him in the game anyway. Roman won. He barely resisted crying out in victory, but he did punch Virgil affectionately before he smiled at the others and began making his way slowly around the edge of the chamber. 

Halfway there, the naga stirred again, but simply nuzzled into the pillow with a yawn that showed off his massive fangs, the mass of tail shifted, but he still didn't wake up. Roman put even more effort into being quiet until he reached Logan’s pile, picking up the shimmering orb carefully with both hands. He made eye contact with Logan before throwing it across the room. He almost laughed at the panic in Logan’s eyes as he casted a levitation spell on the small ball and brought it slowly back to himself, placing it carefully into the bag. Logan glared at Roman, who shrugged and took a step to make his way back. Having been looking at Logan, though, and not his feet, Roman found himself accidentally stepping on something that cracked under his foot. Loudly.

A wave of panic washed over him as the naga’s pointed ears pricked and he woke, this time his eyes blink open slowly and his gaze immediately locked onto Roman - he can’t help but think what striking colours they are. One is a striking gold, just like his scales, the other is almost black, but shimmering with an iridescent rainbow. Roman thought he ought to be worried about how he was about to die as the naga tasted the air, but he was frozen on the spot. Barely a glance at his lovers showed that they were terrified as well. 

For a moment, he and the naga simply stared at each other and he mentally begged the others to run. In a blink, and that’s really how fast it was - Roman couldn’t have possibly reacted - the naga struck, coiling his tail around Roman and lifting him from his feet. Of course he struggled, but the naga was strong and he had dropped his sword when the tail had wrapped around him, there was nothing he could do as he was brought face to face with the - admittedly incredibly beautiful - creature. He wanted to look at the others, but he also didn’t know if the naga knew they were there - and if he didn’t then Roman didn’t want to draw attention to them. If he was going to die here, he would have to make sure they could get out. 

He had expected the naga to squeeze him to death, maybe sink those razor sharp fangs into Roman’s skin and kill him slowly. The naga drew closer and flicked his tongue to smell him, Roman squeezed his eyes shut in preparation but no pain came, instead he felt cool lips pressed to his forehead. It was then that he realised a few different things at once.

First, the naga didn’t want to kill him - he would have done so by now. Second, his scales were cool and smooth where they pressed up against Roman’s bare arms, his tail wasn’t squeezing too hard. Though Roman couldn’t really struggle or escape, he could breath easily, it felt more like an embrace. Third… the naga had just kissed him. Now he was being stared at with a look that seemed like hopeful awe. 

“You…” Roman whispered, not being able to come up with words to express what he wanted to say - which was rare for him. Why was this beautiful thing looking at him like he hung the stars?

One of his hands came up to cup Roman’s face and he found himself leaning into it purely on instinct. The naga’s hands were cool and half scaled and it felt nice against his warm skin - and Roman had never been one to shy away from touch. Roman was passed then from the naga’s tail to his arms, where he was cradled against his strong chest. Despite the fear he had felt mere minutes ago, Roman couldn’t help the way his brain was screaming ‘safe’. He curled into the embrace. 

“Mine,” the naga hissed in Roman’s ear, his voice smooth and warm like melted chocolate, the sound made his breath hitch, “Ssssmokey one, you are ssso warm.”

“Let him go!” Patton's voice comes from the entrance to the chamber. Both Roman and the naga turn heads to look at him. Logan seemed to be trying to get Patton to be quiet and Virgil looked to be mid-panic attack. Roman felt a little bad. The naga moved closer to them and Patton tensed the closer he got. 

“He isss not hurt,” the Naga said, voice gentle as he turned a little to show Roman to them. Roman gave them a little wave and it seemed to placate the three of them just a little, “The little human iss but mine - and sso are you, my gems.”

His tail quickly hoists Patton into the air as well, but leaves his arms free unlike he had with Roman. Patton squeaked, flailing a little until he too realised he wasn’t being killed. When the naga drew him closer, he reached for Roman’s hand, he quickly took it. 

“Put them down,” Logan said, voice monotonous but hiding a venom that Roman could recognise, “We are not yours to hoard.”

“You are mine to love, little witch,” The naga says, “My little humans,”

Patton and Roman both found themselves lowered into the centre of the admittedly amazingly comfortable nest. Roman immediately scrambled over to Patton, pulling him into a gentle hug as the naga turned his attention to Virgil and Logan. Although they had been freed from his hold directly, they were still separated from the others by coils of the Naga’s tail, so they simply sat and waited. 

A stretch of silence passed as the naga’s eyes tracked Virgil curiously - the normally vigilant light-wielder didn’t seem to notice, focused on searching for something in the mass of blankets instead. 

“What are you looking for, little one?” he asked, curling himself around Virgil and making him jump badly and look around to face him. Virgil seemed to freeze, but the naga remained as passive as ever. 

Another silent moment passed, “...my cloak,” Virgil admitted softly, “The big one you - you took a few weeks ago.”

Barely a moment passed before the naga slithered to a spot and dug through the blankets to pull out a mass of black fabric, decorated with purple embroidery which he brought back to Virgil - who stared at him in surprise and wonder. 

“I liked this one,” the naga said, placing it around Virgil’s shoulders. Virgil immediately let out a sigh of relief, practically melting into the fabric, “It'sss big.”

“Yes,” Virgil said quietly. The naga offers him a hand that he tentatively takes and Virgil is carefully lifted to stand on a coil of his tail, steadied by the naga’s hand as he’s brought to join Patton and Roman, who accepted him into their hug gently, earning a fond smile from the naga, who then turned his attention back to Logan, who was growing less and less steadfast in his resistance by the moment. 

“You haven’t usssed that on me yet,” the naga says almost conversationally, gesturing to Logan’s faintly glowing staff - which he was clutching like a lifeline, “What are you waiting for, little witch?”

“I-” Logan faltered, “You…”

The naga hummed, “Will you join uss, little witch?”

Logan frowned, pausing, “What is your name, naga?”

A smile spread across the naga’s face, “I am called Janus,” He answers, voice still gentle.

“I am Logan,” Logan says, “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Ssso polite,” Janus hisses, edging forwards toward him.

“You’ve been stealing from us for months.” Logan backs up a step and Janus pauses, “Why?”

This seemed to give Janus pause, since he actually stopped to take a second and think about his answer. Roman found he was curious as he grabbed a red fluffy blanket - one of his favourites that he had lost - from the top of the pile and wrapped it around his shoulders. For that he earned a pat on the shoulder from Virgil and a kiss to the cheek from Patton. 

“I wanted my humans near me,” Janus said eventually, “But you would not come, I had to make do.”

Roman couldn’t quite work out whether that was absolutely adorable or kind of sad.

“Is that why you took my orb?” Logan asked, taking off his bag and placing it carefully behind him. Proceeding to carefully put his staff down with it, “So we would come here?”

Janus looked away, an almost embarrassed expression overtaking his face. Roman couldn’t help but share a smile with his loves. Virgil smirked back and Roman just knew  from that look he was holding back from teasing the naga that technically had them hostage and vulnerable viciously. “Perhaps.”

“You could have simply approached us,” Logan said, his tone minutely softer. 

Janus raised an eyebrow and simply gestured to his tail, which took up the majority of the large cavern. 

“Right,” Logan said, frowning, “Yet you managed to sneak into our house to steal?”

“Nagas have magic too, little witch,” Janus hissed, finally approaching him properly, carefully and slowly wrapping his coils around him to lift him and place him in the nest with the others. Logan seemed curious, but Janus didn’t seem willing to elaborate as he placed Logan in their little circle. Patton immediately reached for him. 

Meticulously, Janus picked over the four of them, taking their weapons and adding them to a small pile as well as anything breakable or uncomfortable. Roman had difficulty giving up his sword’s sheath - even if the sword itself had been left on the floor of the cavern already, but Janus promised it would be safe in his hoard and lifted Roman gently so he could see where he placed it. The others were easier to disarm, especially Logan - who had already left his things at the door, so to speak. 

When he was done he coaxed the four of them to lie down with a gentle voice and soft, alluring words, promising them safety and comfort as he buried himself once more in the blankets, laying himself down so he wrapped the four of them in his coils and his human torso could lie amongst them, allowing himself to wrap his arms around Roman and for Virgil to share his cloak. Logan held Virgil carefully from behind and Patton found himself laid across all four of them, his head in Roman’s lap and his feet in Logans. 

“My little ones,” Janus whispered as the lights above them dimmed, a hand carding through Virgil’s hair where his head rested against Janus’ shoulder, his lips brushed Roman’s forehead and he reached to brush a hand over Logan and Patton’s faces in turn, “My lovely humans.”

Patton let out a content hum and squirmed a little to get comfortable, Roman heard Logan let out a happy sigh. 

“So warm, so sweet,” Janus hissed softly as he tugged Roman closer, burying his face in his shoulder. Roman had always run the warmest of the group. 

Patton fell asleep first, and then Roman next. Logan fell next, with a little gentle coaxing from the naga until it was just Virgil. 

—-

“You are still scared, little gem,” Janus said softly, brushing  the hair from Virgil’s face, “My little amethyst, what scares you?”

It takes a long time for Virgil to answer and in that time Virgil meets his eyes and Janus knows without him saying a word that it’s him Virgil is afraid of still. 

“How do I know you won’t turn on us while I sleep?” Virgil asked, even despite his fears his voice is still quiet so as not to wake the others, “How do I know they’re safe.”

“I will protect them,” Janus says softly, leaning forward and kissing Virgil’s forehead. Roman makes a soft sound and shifts in his sleep, one of his arms wraps around Janus’ waist and he sighs contently, “I love you all, my sweet ones, I will protect you, I promise.”

“How do I know that?” Virgil insisted, “How do I know you’re not lying.”

“Do you have a bad feeling about me, my amethyst?” Janus asked softly, cupping Virgil’s cheek with a hand. 

Virgil takes a long moment to consider, before he eventually shakes his head. His eyes are wide. 

“No,” he says softly, meeting Janus’ eyes again, “I think you’re good.”

“Then trust me, little human,” Janus hissed softly, the sound practically luring Virgil to relax. He takes a deep breath and… does. 

Virgil falls asleep with the others and Janus keeps his promise.

----

Tags: @full-of-roman-angst-trash @your-local-random-dino @cutebisexualmess @glacierruler @roseianxiety @bella-bugatti-frogetti-baguetti @scalesfeathersnfur @oatmeal-stans-the-trash-rat (if anyone wants to be added, let me know!)

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[indeliblescarspivotalmarks]

THE 112 DAYS THEORY FOR RE-RECORDS

This is a theory that states Taylor is releasing her rerecords in a 112 day pattern. This is simply a theory, I have no knowledge from Taylor or her team, I’m just a delulu swiftie trying to figure things out and use Easter eggs to understand the mastermind behind it all🤍 This is a theory from TikTok user NikkiKing23, I’ve added some of my own embellishments in here too🤍

Number Significance

112 songs stolen by Big Machine Records (not including versions of the same song (Bad Blood ft Kendrick Lamar and Thug Story are both official songs that are counted as they were released)

112 days between start of The Eras Tour (3/17) and Speak Now TV release (7/7)

112 days between Speak Now TV release and 1989 TV release (10/27)

1+12= 13!

The Midnight’s vinyls made a clock. Clocks read 1-12! Taylor made a video saying “It’s a clock. It tells time.” Perhaps it is telling the times of the re-records dropping.

Taylor’s eyeshadow in each piece of the vinyl clock is a colour of the remaining stolen albums (in chronological order)

We know Taylor uses her makeup to foreshadow albums - for example the Bejewelled makeup look where she represents each of her albums in a coloured area of eyeshadow

The Eras Tour clock begins at 02:24 (122 x 2 = 224)

2 rerecords have been announced during this leg

There was 224 days between FearlessTV (April 9th 2021) and the ORIGINAL intended date of RedTV (November 19th 2021) - Taylor however moved RedTV forward by a week to Nov12th (my bday lol)

There was 336 days (112 x 3) between RedTV’s OG intended date Nov19th to Midnights release date October 21st 2022

Possible Hinduism reference to Karma (more info in this post!!)

Following the 112 days pattern

Reputation would drop February 16th

Taylor is in Melbourne on this date & it’s a Friday

There have been MULTIPLE strong indicators of reputation coming in February, including the coffee cup nail, the waving devils hand, the consistent use of 2 items in backgrounds of scenes (post coming soon!)

And Debut would drop June 7th

Taylor is in Edinburgh on this date & it’s a Friday

It is also Night One of her UK tour

This agrees with the Karma MV easter eggs as well as timing easter eggs (post coming soon too!)

If Taylor was to reclaim her albums in this way she would technically release one in each continental leg in her tour

Speak Now TV during North American

1989 TV during South American

Reputation during Australasian

Taylor Swift during European

“THE MAN WALL” & KARMA LINK

This theory agrees that the “The Man” wall is being used in an infinity sign. Taylor has worn quite a lot of infinity sign jewellery over the rerecords process. The Coney Island bridge theory also works here too.

This proposes Reputation is next and then Debut.

Karma is in the middle of this wall at the centre of the infinity sign. Karma is an infinite cycle of death and rebirth.

Taylor has used lots of imagery in this idea, with the snake eating itself in the LWYMMD lyric video and in the ME! music video, the snake bursts into butterflies (aka is reborn into butterflies, showing freedom).

In the rerecording process, Taylor has to kill off her old albums, denying them streaming potential, but gives rebirth to them under her own name.

Karma is essential to both Buddhist and Hindu teachings.

In Hinduism there are 112 ways to break out of the cycle of Karma and reach a state of eternal bliss & freedom (this is called Moksha).

Moksha is often represented by a bird breaking free of a cage.

Taylor has used the imagery of being stuck in a birdcage in LWYMMD.

Orange is the colour that means purity in Hinduism.

Taylor often depicts Karma as being orange (“The Man” wall, supposed “lost album colour”)

She wears an orange jumpsuit whilst stuck in the birdcage.

Once Taylor has released all of her albums, and broken free of the cycle of Karma, she’s free to do as she wishes to and there will be nothing holding her back after 5yrs of her masters being held. She’ll have reached the eternal bliss and freedom she wishes for.

OG theory trom Nikki King, added and embellished by myself!

TikTok link:

[boabelboo]

wanted to do one of these, inspired by the lovely @persephoneprice !!!

[writernopal]

OC Deep Dive Tag

I got tagged by @tabswrites (here), @captain-kraken (here) and @pheita (here) for this one! Thanks guys so much 🥺

Tagging (gently): @paintedbutton @teamdilf @daisywalletchains @void-botanist and anyone else who'd like to play!

We'll do Axtapor for this one because I miss him 😭

What common/uncommon fear do they have?

Maybe its a bit meta, but he fears rejection above all else.

Do they have any pet peeves?

Shitty knot tying skills. He can't stand it and has absolutely dismissed men from their stations for tying crappy knots and not keeping their area neat.

What are 3 items you can find in their bedroom?

A pipe, a dagger, and an iron file for his claws.

What do they notice first in a person?

How much they're worth, as in, are they wearing lots of jewelry? fine clothes? etc.

On a scale from 1-10, how high is their pain tolerance?

9. Though he is loud when he gets hurt.

Do they go into fight or flight mode when under pressure?

FIGHT, 1000% lol. He won't back down from a fight even if the situation is grim.

Do they come from a big family/are they a family person?

His nuclear family is small by Lizardfolk standards. His parents only had one clutch, so he's one of six children. His extended family/clan is quite large though as Clan Oxlo is the founding Major Clan of the House of Dreams. As far as being a family person, he absolutely is, even though he doesn't necessarily think of himself as one. The way he sees it, its just something that he has to do at some point in his life to carry on his clan name (he's an old bachelor) but, uh, well, that changes after he meets a certain lil lady.

What animal represents them best?

A hyena. More about that here.

What is a smell they dislike?

Human sweat. He HATES it. He's described it as smelling like a corpse.

Have they broken any bones?

Yes. He broke his leg once when he jumped down a dry well at 8 years old. He's also broken countless other things since then. (Fingers and tail vertebrae mostly) Hazards of the job as it were.

How would a stranger likely describe them?

Probably intimidating or mean. He looks quite gruff when he's in his own thoughts and is very short with people he doesn't know.

Are they a night owl, or morning bird?

Morning bird, especially because he hunts and sailing also requires being up early in the day, esp as first mate. But his favorite time of day is golden hour.

What’s a flavor they hate and a flavor they love?

I don't know if there is a specific flavor he hates but he doesn't really like sweets. As far as a flavor he loves, whatever grasshoppers and fish scales taste like lol.

Do they have any hobbies?

Smoking, hunting, and bushcraft camping.

Boom, surprise birthday party! How do they react to surprise?

It really depends on who is throwing it. If its his grandma or Mariel, then he's stoked, otherwise he's probably lukewarm about it. But either way, it wouldn't stop him from downing a few celebratory drinks and smoking some good tobacco.

Do they like to wear jewellery?

Yes and so much of it. He likes to wear what he's stolen during pillages and will often pick and choose what he steals based on his tastes.

Do they have neat or messy handwriting?

Messy lol. Its basically chicken scratch because he's right handed but after an accident a few years ago (a boarding hook through the palm) he had to relearn how to write with his left hand. He doesn't quite have the motor skills in his right hand as he used to even though its healed and his left is still not the best, so using a claw quill like most lizards do is pretty hard for him. He opts for the more human form of writing: using a quill.

What are the two emotions they feel the most?

Angry and horny lol.

Do they have a favourite fabric?

I don't think so, he kind of just wears whatever is comfortable and easy to move in. He tends towards both human and lizard fashions, which come in a wide array of fabric options, sometimes the same fabrics (linen, cotton, occasionally silks), though the cuts are obviously different. Most lizards won't wear human clothes because they think its ugly but he likes it because he can get it pretty easily at most of the ports they visit. He also enjoys fine spun wool in the winter as well as animal pelts.

What kind of accent do they have?

Whatever this is lol: “I nay know yer Everwatcher. Fact been, I could give a shite ‘bout her, seein’ as she will no show her face, so her word or trust in ye has nary a meanin’ to me. Stand in for yerself and let me weigh ye proper, or we be leavin’ this place.” In all seriousness, it really depends on what language he's speaking. He speaks several but most often in AASOAF is speaking Common or Hamatian (native language of Ihama where he was born). I made a post about AASOAF's languages here but to recap, Common is not based on English, rather Old Spanish. This means they would have Spanish-like accents if they spoke our English. In world, especially for Lizardfolk, learning Common is challenging because their mouth shape isn't fit to make the softer, rounder sounds of the language, so they often sound very aggressive, like they're biting their words when they speak. They also bring Lizardfolk inflections to the language when speaking it, Axtapor will also do this and often adds glottal stops where they shouldn't be or punctuates words with a short hiss or click. His Hamatian is very good, and sounds like our Sanskrit, but leans a lot more into the sing-song rise and fall of the language due to the way Lizardfolk vocal anatomy is. It also incorporates hisses, clicks, bassy thumps produced from the chest and throat, and on occasion, chattering. As a nobleman, he was brought up speaking the formal or Halto variant of the language as well as Meddia and Lajo variants. He will switch the variant he uses depending on who he's talking to, though they will sometimes mix, especially if he gets wound up about something, and he ends up sounding a little country.

[duchessofostergotlands]

Lol, not a fan of stealing artefacts now British Museum?

[shmowder]

You broke the law, congrats, keep it up.

But not everyone is born with taste, unfortunately, and your little endeavour was put to a stop by none other than the Alexander Saburov himself. A pillar of piety and fidelity (Ha.) One of the town's standing virtues, a saint in the making.

Flutter your pretty eyelashes at him all you want. No matter how tantalising you look clad in those tight thief clothes, stolen jewellery adorning your neck, fingers, and ankles, glittering as beautifully as the starry sky above, Alexander remains unimpressed.

To town hall you're dragged, literally, his grip is steel solid against your arm. Much more tricky to remove than any clunky old pair of handcuffs you could slip from with a simple trusty safety pin or two.

The cat has finally caught the mouse.

The jig is up. All those precious gems and jewellery that you've rightfully earned by breaking and entering homes like any honest working person–were stripped from you. Thrown into a simple wooden box to be returned to their previous owners come morning.

Of course, you weren't pleased, to say the least, and you gave Sasha a piece of your mind. You worked hard for those.

Does he know how difficult it is to dig through someone's closet in the pitch dark while remaining as quiet as a mouse?

Bah, all that effort wasted.

He's giving that same look that you hate, the disappointed one. You could handle anger. You could handle disgusted snares and rage-filled glares.

...But pity? it sank like posion into your stomach, it stung more than broken glass below your bare feet.

What made it worse was how he refused to argue back. Refused to acknowledge the insults you threw his way, never dignified your tantrums.

Merely looking at you with the deep concern, sorry eyes and thinly pressed lips, as if he failed you.

How many times has it been? How many times did he catch you, and you'd escape the next day? How many reform attempts he put you through only for you to betray his trust and go back to your old habits the second the door to the cage is left unlocked.

You were never going to change, you made it very clear to everyone around you.

Yet he stubbornly refuses that notion, never allowing this seedling of hope to wither no matter how many times you set the whole field ablaze.

Replanting it, time after time, carefully, gently.

Patiently.

Alexander... no, Sasha never changed, not once ever since you were kids.

Neither did you, neither can you.

Be it standing at the playground together, scolding you over stolen chocolate chip cookies while wiping the crumbs from your mouth before your mother comes outside.

Or standing here alone at the town hall, scolding you over the stolen gold and rubies while taking it upon himself to return these items befoere the residents file even more complaints and reports about you, before the judge can get involved.

Sasha was simply Sasha.

And you were....

You.

You knew what was going to happen next, you've memorised this song and dance. The questions would begin, the house addresses, the names, the motives, the break and entry method.

Who sold you the lockpicks, and who provided the information on these people?

Why do you do this? Do you need the money that badly? Why not work an honest job?

Do you realise the severity of this crime? Did you have any accomplices? Is someone paying you to do this?

If you needed the money that badly why not come to him? Why not ask him? Why not answer his letters?

Are you aware that you could've been shot if they had caught you? Are you aware just of how much you're endangering yourself?

What made you resort to these desperate actions? Or do you just enjoy the thrill?

Is life just a game to you?

Did you forget the promise you two made?

Your mother can't stand to look at him on the street, she blames him for how you turned out.

He still apologises each time.

Are you eating well?

Professionalism starts melting away as the questions get more and more personal.

It was too much.

You wanted him to shut up, you needed him to shut up.

One step closer, that caught his attention. His hand immediately covered the pistol under his coat. He really needs to stop being so obvious, you thought as you took another step closer.

Then a third, a fourth.

Your chest pressed against his, your arms circled his neck.

He never pulled back, as if he was frozen in place.

His lips tasted of bitter coffee, dry and chapped. Yours weren't any better, yet he still melted into them as if they held the cure to his aching heart.

It was slow, with no teeth at all. Soft, sinfully innocent.

Desperate as he tried not to let you slip from his fingers, attempting to hold you closer, pull you flushed against his own body to try and hide you from the world.

Pouring his emotions into it, showing his vulnerability plainly for you to take advantage of.

Naively hoping you will see reason, you must.

Please.

You have to.

Not many people can claim to have seen Alexander Saburov crumble from a simple kiss, let himself fall and shatter into a million pieces. Even less could claim to have ever seen you put someone together, mend the wounds rather than cause more harm.

Be selfless and allow him this moment of selfishness, to dare and dream of a different life, a changed soul.

You pull away first, because you always do.

He chases after you, because that's all he knows.

You're breathless, his face is flushed.

People will arrive soon, the two of you step away.

Your world feels much colder, his arms hang heavy by his sides.

Escorting you to the jailcells on the lower floor, you don't mention the lack of handcuffs as you head inside.

The door is softly shut, the lock clicks into place.

Soon after, a tray of food is slid under the hatch.

Warm bread–he must have gone out, in the middle of the night–a tightly shut bottle of milk.

The usual customery meal, wasn't it for the carefully wrapped handkerchief in the middle of the tray, one chocolate chip cookie inside.

[undiscovered-horizon]

Morpheus and thief!Reader

I've been thinking about this concept more than I care to admit. Full fic is on its way.

"So, you do that often?" you ask casually.

Shining the light of the torch around the spacious hall, you realize Foxtrot wasn't boasting when he called this place his 'private museum'. It was very English of him, actually: a palace filled with stolen goods that he claims are his. Inside countless showcases are truly remarkable items known to most people as imaginary artefacts from fairytales: weaponry, chests, manuscripts, jewellery... Wait, is that part of Excalibur?

"Open doors?" he asks in a confused tone.

You shine the torch in Dream's direction. His pasty skin is nearly glowing in its yellow light. Humans would squint their eyes or shield their faces but not him - he just stares blankly at you, hands in pockets of his coat as if he didn't just break into a private collection of a famed thief. Maybe he felt better telling himself that he was only taking back what belonged to him. "Break into girls' apartments," you spit out.

"I did not break in."

"Oh, I'm sorry, trespass into girls' apartments."

Dream, however, is unmoved by your irate tone. Casually strolling through the majestic hall of marble and glass, he walks past you. Surprisingly, he's not even looking at the magical wonders gathered in Foxtrot's 'museum'. "I make a polite guest to polite hosts."

Jogging up to him, you continue the subject of his apparent lack of understanding of privacy. "Still, you could have knocked."

He looks at you out of the corner of his eye. Dream is significantly taller than you, making his glance look more patronizing than it really is. "Would you have opened the door for me?"

"No."

The march through endless corridors filled with stolen artefacts continues in silence. If Foxtrot still has the pouch, he's displayed it somewhere prominent where it would be in the centre of attention. Once people see it, he'll forever be remembered as the madman who dared to break the one rule thieves have and stole from the Endless. Surely, Foxtrot will conveniently forget to mention your dirty work.

Your blood is boiling. That treacherous posh bastard.

[outeremissary]

🍉🍪🍕 for Ismene?

Thanks for the asks, Ash! This took longer than expected because after drafting the answers I went to fact check some lore and um. Spent over an hour reading about libraries. Whoops!!

[prompt list]

🍉: Does your OC have a particular piece of jewellery that they always wear or refuse to part with?

Ismene has a black velvet choker she wears almost constantly (an item which is fortunately easy to keep secure on the road and in fights). The choker was a gift from Imoen from not long after Imoen was first brought to Candlekeep, and one with some backstory to it. Around that time Candlekeep had hosted a noblewoman for several weeks who was a dedicated lover of scholarly pursuits bursting with admiration for the monks of Candlekeep. It had been her dream to visit the great library and learn from it, and she treated the hallowed library and its keepers with nothing but the utmost reverence. For the other residents of Candlekeep, however, she seemed to have nothing but contempt- even for the little elf girl who helped to mind the reading rooms and who carefully shelved the books for the librarians between visits. Ismene became a frequent target of the woman's ire. The woman complained frequently of her presence, berated her for her presumed background, treated her as a servant, and harshly criticized the work she did. After a day where Ismene attempted several times to correct the woman for violating the rules of a reading room, the woman went to one of the Great Readers and went on at length about the girl's insolent behavior, accusing her of singling the woman out for harassment and attempting to steal from the woman's bag.

Imoen saw Ismene crying after being scolded over the accusations, and the morning after the woman suddenly found herself with real problems on her hands. Somehow a bottle of ink had cracked in her bag, leaking all over her fine clothes and ruining pages of her careful notes. For the rest of her visit she seemed tormented by an endless string of accidents. Things broke or went missing, her food burned, the floors outside her room were always just slick enough with half done mopping for her to slip... Although she went to Winthrop more than once over these incidents, her complaints fell on deaf ears after weeks of tormenting the inn's staff with false claims. On the last day of her stay, the woman reported frantically that a favorite choker, one which she had worn frequently during her time at Candlekeep, had gone missing. Although she turned half of Candlekeep upside down searching for it, she never managed to find it, and she left the library fortress disconsolate over its loss. That night Imoen presented it to Ismene as a gift. The girls have been fast friends ever since (though they did both get in trouble over the clearly stolen item).

🍪: What is something that's sentimental to your OC?

Any of the many things that remind her of Candlekeep- she misses her home dearly, and has not been happy to leave. The smell of books, the gentle warmth of the afternoon sun in a comfortable seat by a window, the droning sound of chant... Any of it can take her back for just the briefest moment. Maybe the most potent, but thankfully the least bittersweet, moments of sentiment come from time spent with Imoen talking and braiding hair as if they were girls again. Ismene isn't one to voice gratitude, but she's incredibly thankful for Imoen's companionship.

🍕: How does an OC spend a lazy day?

Ismene spends huge portions of unoccupied days sleeping. She can easily sleep for more than twelve hours when not interrupted, and she doesn't mind the time lost. She loathes having to wake before dawn to maximize daylight while traveling; even though elves have no real need for sleep she always sleeps on rest days in towns like she's catching up from weeks of deprivation. Of course, in her eyes her sleep is far more valuable than the sleep normal people experience because of the visions she receives in her dreams.

Aside from sleeping, she enjoys reading and will spend her waking hours squirreled away in a library given the chance- in the small towns of the Sword Coast these are often collections belonging to temples or wealthy private individuals, and identifying who locally has a worthwhile collection to attempt to access is one of her priorities when arriving somewhere new. Often there's little truly new and worthwhile in these collections relative to Candlekeep, but occasionally she's pleasantly surprised. Although on other occasions she is prematurely escorted out of the library after revealing to unhappy owners expensive forgeries or offering unsolicited critique of the gaps in their collections...

I wish I could say she had other things she spent time on as a hobby, but unfortunately Ismene is the number one nerd who never goes outside unless dragged and it really is mostly that.

[bullet-prooflove]

The North Star - Part Three: Her Worse Half (NSFW) - Terry Bruno x Reader

Welcome to mine and @the-hinky-panda The Bronx universe featuring our favs Terry Bruno & Mike Duarte.

This story takes place several years after 'Blood Out'. Terry still lives in the Bronx and works in Manhatten SVU.

Following on from @the-hinky-panda story 'The Dog' Mike has retired from the NYPD on medical grounds due to seizures causes by the attack. He has a therapy dog called Bono and lives with @the-hinky-panda character Meredith.

Tagging: @mysoulisasunflower @legit9thlunaticwarrior @bbyxoo @the-adzukibean @xoxabs88xox @crazy4chickennuggets @beardedbarba @wooshwastaken @justreblogginfics @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @storiesofsvu @anime-weeb-4-life

Part One: Moments

Part Three

It's late but you're still here in the precinct, still staring at the same whiteboard as this morning with pictures of the Jameson family stuck to it. Each one is precise, lined up perfectly with Sinclair’s neat block capitals alongside side it. He’s the only person you let write on this board, he’s the only one with handwriting that everyone in your team can read.

Your gaze lingers over the image of Travis Jameson, hands bound behind his back, duct tape slapped over his mouth. His face was bloody, his skull cracked open, brain matter embedded on the plush cream carpet underneath. They had gone at him with a baseball bat, laughing like hyenas while they slaughtered him in front of his wife and son. It was a thrill for them, the two of them had taken turns while a third had watched over the other victims. 

It had been the fourteen-year-old son Damon who had told you all this. His mother Tricia was still in the hospital in a coma after they smashed her head against the corner of the coffee table when she wouldn’t stop screaming.

You rubbed your hand over the back of your neck, your fingers brushing over the white scars embedded in your flesh. You followed the trail of the largest one before it disappeared underneath the collar of your shirt. There were more, they littered your shoulders and upper back like speckles of paint, flicked from a brush.

“Oh, pretty girl, you’re a work of art. You know that?” Terry smiled against your skin, his lips brushing each and every scar as the heated water rained down on you from the monsoon shower head.

His fingers entwined with yours as you pressed your palm to the tile. He began to move in long, deep strokes, sinking into you completely. You let out a loud cry as he hit that sweet spot, euphoria erupting through your synapses as he buried his face in the curve of your throat, lips brushing over the clasp of your necklace.

Your fingertips toyed with the slender gold chain around your throat, following the curvature until you reached the tiny compass. You clasped it between your fingers as you turned your attention back to the board. The motion helped you to think.

You ran through the list of stolen items, antiquities, and jewellery. Expensive, specific pieces. Pieces that had been carefully curated. It didn’t fit the M.O of the actual robbers. You’d bet a year’s salary that they were thugs for hire.

Sinclair thought it had something to do with the insurance, you couldn’t work out how. Each of the victims had an difference insurance carrier, he had a sister who worked in the field he thought could give you more insight. Much to your relief, Paul had spent the majority of the afternoon out of the office trying to get a fix on a fence who specialised in high end antiques. So far, he’d come up empty.

You felt Terry’s presence before you registered his appearance in the Squad Room. It was a warmth that radiated from his body, an aura of calm that soothed over your rampant nerves as he took up residence alongside of you. His eyes fixed on the whiteboard, studying the images as his arm brushed against yours. The ink on his forearm pressing against your skin. It was reassuring, something steady in a whirlwind of violence. Your fingers threaded through his, linking the two of you together. His gaze lowered to your jointed hands, his thumb ghosting over the tattoo on your wrist.

“I can’t see what I’m missing.” You told him, diverting your attention back to the board. “The antiquities, the jewellery, it’s all very distinctive. Unique pieces, but different markets.”

“The jewellery could be broken down and sold separately for smaller denominations.” Terry pointed out, stepping up the board and tapping a necklace made of white gold, with rubies and diamonds embedded within the settings. It was ostentatious, something you’d see on the red carpet, and it wasn’t the only one up there. “That could be broke down into its own separate clusters, a ring maybe, a broach, a smaller necklace.”

“We both watched Ocean’s Eight, Detective Bruno.” You teased, tilting your head slightly as you reviewed an emerald choker. “Although you could probably get a lot of earrings out of this piece.”

“Would you ever wear anything like that?” He asked you with a frown.

“It looks like a high-end dog collar.” You commented, your lips tipping up into a small smile. “But if Bono or Shasta ever attend a movie premiere, I’ll suggest it.”

“Duarte’s not letting that thing anywhere near those dogs. Meredith though, she has good taste.”

Meredith, your sister but not by blood. You’d spent the majority of your teenage years fostered by Meredith’s family after the devolution of your own. You’d been friends long before that, your history spanning back to elementary school, when you were a feral, unkempt child with mediocre reading skills and she’d offered to share her lunch. You’d become friends that day and later on family.

She’d taken up with Mike Duarte and Bono the service dog, a few years ago after he’d survived a machete attack that had forced him to retire from the NYPD on medical grounds. As a brother in law you liked him, there was nothing official in place but you didn’t need a wedding to become part of the family. He may be a bit rough around the edges but he loved Meredith, it was in the way he looked at her, his smile and softness. His attention always rapt when she spoke. They were happy together and that was all you could wish for.

“It would have to be sapphires though.” You pointed out, gesturing at your neck area. “It would suit the dogs’ colouring more.”

Terry raised his eyebrows, his arms folded over his broad chest and his azure eyes sparkling with mischief. You raised a finger, a grin spreading over your features as you caught onto his idea.

“No, he’ll kill us.”

“He’s retired.” Terry shrugged his shoulders. “I’m pretty sure I can run faster than he can.”

“I’ve been the shooting range with him, trust me he doesn’t miss, even now.” You warned him with a knowing look. “Duarte can hit a moving target from a mile away.”

Terry pouted in response to your words, his dark brow furrowing as you approached him, your hands coming to rest on his hips as you tipped your head up to meet his gaze. His arms wrapped around you, drawing you into the shelter of his body. The heat from his body rolled over your skin, igniting your synapses and causing a sensual thrill to pulse through your system. He was wicked, this man of yours, dynamic and tantalising. His intelligence was fierce, his empathy unruly, and his compassion… It was the reason you had fallen for him in the first place.

“His face would have been worth it though.” Terry murmured, his voice husky as his head dipped low, his noise trailing along the length of yours until his lips hovered precariously close.

“We can find other ways to torture my brother-in-law.” You promised him, your thumb ghosting along the fine hair that decorated his jaw. He closed his eyes, exhaling as he savoured your touch. “Or maybe you’d prefer I tease you a little tonight, climb into your lap, pin your hands above your head as I…”

“Sarge.”

The sound of Paul’s voice broke through the moment. Terry’s eyes opened, fixing on yours his lips framed the word ‘busted’. You cleared your throat as Terry turned to face the other man his hand outstretched.

“Terry Bruno, Manhattan SVU and her worse half.” He introduced himself.

“Paul Russo, Robbery.” Paul returned, his hand enclosing on Terry’s. “The one before you.”

Terry’s head titled up as he met Paul’s gaze head on. The line of his jaw tensed. A chill flooded through your veins, dousing you like ice water. You’d seen that look on Terry’s face before, when he came up against suspects, people who had done unspeakable things. He was intuitive, your man, he understood things on a level that seemed to resonate underneath the surface. You wondered how much he saw in Paul’s eyes. Could he see the narcissist that you had loved once upon a time? The man who had destroyed your self confidence and damaged your psyche?

“And that is enough of that.” You interrupted clapping your hands to draw their attention back towards you. “We’re supposed to be at Meredith’s in thirty minutes.”

Terry inclined his head in your direction before releasing Paul’s hand. You snatched up your jacket from the back of your office chair before shrugging into it. Your skin prickled and you glanced over your shoulder to see Paul’s unnerving stare upon you. It fixated on you as you picked up your satchel and slung it over your shoulder. It was as if Terry wasn’t even there.

Terry seemed to sense the equilibrium shifting, he watched the other man with an intensity you found concerning. This was Terry viewing a threat, surveying it, cataloguing the details. He may not have known what Paul had done to you, but he knew a predator when he saw one. He dealt with them on a daily basis. His hand came to rest on your lower back, his palm warm, instilling a sense of security as his thumb rubbed a soothing circle over the base of your spine. You didn’t fail to notice that he positioned himself between you and Paul. It was a protective gesture, one that you weren’t even sure that he was aware he was undertaking. All he knew was that he didn’t want you anywhere near that man.

“See you tomorrow, Sarge.” 

Love Terry Bruno? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[supereffectivemoonblast]

After taking the afternoon off to recover from the ordeal at the Life Dome, Aerith, Ramiel, and Brucey visit the Silken Squall the next day. At the edge of Ank'Harel, twin rope bridges lead up to the floating city, wooden decks built on top of a magically solidified cloud as foundation. A variety of tents, wooden lean-tos, sheds, and the occasional metal structure litter a three tiered settlement that looks more like a carnival than a town. And the majority of performers and craftsmen are Air Genasi.

The trio arrive on the lowest deck of the squall and get breakfast from a stall. Nearby, they spot an automaton trying to sell pamphlets, and when it has moments alone, attempting to practice juggling. Aerith approaches and teaches the robot what she knows, and it is very impressed. It introduces itself as Bell, and explains the stamp book game her friend Guston is offering. The group like Bell, but assume Guston might be a scammer, so tell the robot they'll come by again later.

The Silken Squall - Linda Lithén

They visit a dedicated Jewellery store called Argent Light, and browse some wares, then visit a Winery called Barrel of Clouds, where an older Air Genasi named Turb tells them about a vermin problem. Shiny things and food have gone missing over the last couple weeks, and he suspects a nest of rats he's recently discovered in his cellar. Aerith and her allies offer to clear out the rats and he'll pay them.

They spot the rats immediately, but while they're slaying them, a volley of arrows appears from somewhere and starts a fire from one of the alcohol barrels. After dealing with the rats, they find a hole in the wall of the cellar leading into a tunnel dug through the cloud supporting the city.

Aerith scouts ahead and notices a variety of traps laid out to trip them up. Soon, she catches a pair of Kobolds, who answer their questions with violence. Ramiel and Brucey back up Aerith and they have soon found and defeated four Kobolds hiding behind Barrels or in the walls of the cloud tunnel. They leave one alive, named Plop, and intimidate it into leading them towards the Kobold leading this infestation.

Plop leads them through the tunnel, finding several piles of treasure, some more traps, and a few more Kobolds, which they all slay in front of Plop's eyes. Eventually they push through into the basement of an armory shop, and are ambushed by a group of Kobolds who had poorly fitted themselves out with weapons and armour too big for them. They are slightly more challenged by this group, but Aerith, Ramiel, and Brucey exterminate the Kobolds.

One of the Kobolds had a sack with all the stuff it had stolen, and they find jewels, potions, gold etc, and even a tattered copy of the Stamp Book. The trio assume this is the stolen goods Turb mentioned.

They take two Kobolds they had kept alive and bound back up with them, and Turb advises they should alert the Wyvernwinds, the de facto leaders of the Silken Squall. Caelus and Aurora Wyvernwind thank the party for their help, and give them a writ they can use as a Gift Card to pay for some of the goods on the Squall.

A little battered, but otherwise still excited by the markets, the group start to equate themselves with more of the shops on the squall. They first go to Kotter the blacksmith, and tell him why his basement was barred shut. They also buy some armour from him.

Next they revisit the jewel shop, and visit a bookstore, and a potion store, returning some of items they found in the Kobold's stash. They also collect some Stamps from these shops, having to get to know each merchant before guessing which stamp is theirs. At the potion store, they also get a request from the store owner's assistant to brave the caves around the city to find a precious stone called Ank'Harel Lapus.

Next session, the trio will visit more stores, get more stamps, and search for the Ank'Harel Lapus, with promise of quite the reward.

[ehlnofay]

6, 14 and 15 for Efri and 12 and 25 for Arabella? c':

6: If you could give them one modern amenity, what would you give them and why? there are so many things in the modern world that would be functionally useless but give her a great deal of joy... I think I would give her an instant camera. or a skateboard. she would use the camera to photograph her friends, nice views, and cool plants; she would use the skateboard to rocket around the college halls at high speeds and scare as many professors as possible

14: Do they keep a regular bedtime? NO. SHUT UP. SHE'S NOT A BABY SHE GOES TO BED WHENEVER SHE WANTS (if she isn't in bed by nine she's very grumpy the next day)

15: Can they handle sour tasting foods? Or do they hate them? efri in the modern world would eat warhead lollies until her tongue started blistering. efri of skyrim fame doesn't know this, tragically, because she hasn't had access to anything much sourer than an apple, but while travelling with the khajiiti caravan she is given a slice of sugared orange and she thinks it is The Shit

12: What is the strangest non-magical item they own? arabella wears a widely varied rotation of jewellery, but there is one piece that she almost never takes out: a small bone ring that she wears in the tip of her right ear, which isn't particularly strange at a glance unless you know what kind of bone it is. (it's the distal phalanx of the first person she killed. she carved it herself.) there's some superstition surrounding mage bones in valenwood, but any magical properties it might have are dubious, not augmented by her preparation methods, and very far from the point - people cope with trauma differently, okay, and some people cope by taking trophies

25: If they were an NPC, what kind of quest would they give? Or would they be the type to simply repeat basic dialogue? hmm... arabella would not stay in the thieves guild if she wasn't the protagonist so it would be nothing to do with that. I think it would be funny if she popped up in inns at random times and gave very basic fetch quests - "my Precious Item has been stolen! surely such a competent adventurer as yourself can go to Dangerous Location and retrieve my Precious Item" - but when you went to do the quests there would be heavy-handed environmental storytelling heavily implying that she has never owned the Precious Item and she's basically just using you to acquire them in exchange for a fraction of what they're worth. in my head she would also have almost a manic pixie dream girl vibe about it all. not because she's like that as a person just because she would think it's funny

[the-al-chemist]

Artemis Hexley and the Return to the Riddles

Chapter 7: The Most Powerful Puffskein at Hogwarts

A/N: I had THE most fun writing this chapter. Happy Halloween. Kudos to @cursebreakerfarrier for changing the furby’s eyes in the above photo. Warnings: mentions of grief/loss, and a savage beast.

October was growing more autumnal by the day, with the sky painted grey and the grounds covered in leaves in every imaginable shade of umber, orange, and yellow. The giant pumpkins in Hagrid’s garden were almost ready to be picked, and the students had started to don their knitwear. It was a typical autumn term at Hogwarts, in almost every way, except for one thing: the thief was still at large.

With more items going missing daily, and still no luck finding the culprit, Corey Hayden the Head Boy was arranging more and more prefects’ meetings, which Artemis was finding more and more tedious.

“Honestly, this is pointless,” she whispered to Charlie, as Corey announced - yet again - that he still had no leads. “If they’ve run out of the good sandwiches by the time we get to lunch, I’m going to be livid.”

Charlie made a low, sympathetic humming noise, and Artemis crossed her arms over her chest as she looked out of the window at the rain falling steadily on the surface of the Black Lake outside. On the shore, a single white swan was grooming itself and ruffling its feathers. It was miserable weather outside, but Artemis still would have gladly traded places with that one wet swan, if only to avoid having to listen to Corey droning on.

“I’ve been re-reading all my detective novels,” Corey was now saying, “and I think we really should consider the possibility that the thief is one of the people who reported an item stolen.”

“Why would a thief report a theft that they committed?”

“In order to shift the blame from themselves. In The Detective Files of-”

“You’re using tips from detective novels to help you find out whose been nicking a few girls’ jewellery from around the school?” said Victor Ketsueki, an arrogant smirk playing on his lips. “What’s your next theory? A Niffler did it?”

There were a few muffled snorts of laughter from around the room as Victor rolled his eyes and Corey bristled. Artemis pursed her lips. Though she found Corey insufferable, she disliked Victor just as much. She also hated these meetings, but at least she had the good sense to sit through them in surly silence and not try and draw attention to herself. Besides, it wasn’t just ‘a few girls’ jewellery’ that had been lost. These were things that had meant something to their original owners, and still did, such as Murphy’s Golden Snitch pin badge and Talbott’s mother’s old necklace. 

She narrowed her eyes at both Corey and Victor before returning her attention to the view from the window. The rain outside was falling more heavily now, and even the swan had disappeared from view, presumably having grown as bored of his own situation as Artemis had of hers.

“Well, if you all wouldn’t mind speaking again to the people in your houses who claim to have had things stolen from them, that would be appreciated,” Corey said. “You’re all free to go.”

At last, Artemis thought. She slung her yellow rucksack over her shoulder and followed Charlie and Badeea across the classroom. She got to the door at the same time as Victor Ketsueki, who stepped in front of her as if he hadn’t noticed her there.

“Excuse me.” Her mouth dropped open. “I was just-”

“Well done. You remembered the words I taught you,” said Victor. He gave her an insincere smile before turning his collar up and walking away down the corridor in the opposite direction to the rest of the prefects.

Artemis frowned as she watched him leave. Why was he not going to lunch in the Great Hall like everyone else? What was he up to?

“He’s probably meeting a girl,” said Badeea, as Artemis caught up with her and Charlie. “They all seem to like him these days.”

“Why?”

“I expect it’s because of the poems. You should see him in the Common Room, he’s always scribbling away. Tulip and I asked him what he was writing the other night, he told us it was a haiku.”

“Bless you.”

“It’s a kind of Japanese poem,” Badeea laughed, not unkindly. “Short but sweet, you know?”

“She knows about one of those things,” muttered Charlie, and he left for the Gryffindor table. 

He was already halfway across the Great Hall before Artemis understood the joke, and so she tutted to herself as she took her own seat at the Hufflepuff table with her dorm-mates.

“How was the meeting?” asked Penny. “Are you any closer to finding out who the thief is?”

“No.”

“Well, did you tell Corey about mine and Talbott’s Animagus theory?”

Artemis shook her head. As much as she agreed with Penny and Talbott that their theory made sense, what with the fact that ingredients needed to make the Animagus potion had been stolen from Professor Snape’s storeroom, she didn’t see how her sharing the idea with Corey would help find the thief, or if he’d even listen to her in the first place.

“Corey’s got it into his head that one of the people who’ve had something stolen might be the thief,” she told the others. “He read about it in some detective story.”

“For Godric’s sake.” Tonks rolled her eyes. “He does realise that stories aren’t real, right?”

“I’m more interested in why someone would steal all these things in the first place,” said Chiara, her pale eyes furrowing. “I understand the potion ingredients to make an Animagus potion, but the rest… There doesn’t seem to be much rhyme or reason to it. Jae told me in Divination that half of it wouldn’t even be that valuable. Perhaps we are looking at some sort of sudden onset kleptomania. It might be spell or trauma induced.”

“In which case, we’d need to look into anyone acting strangely or out of character.”

“Like Victor Ketsueki,” said Artemis, her teeth grazing her bottom lip. “Everyone who knows him says he’s been acting differently since we’ve been back at Hogwarts.”

“Well, yes.” Penny’s blonde hair fell over her shoulders as she shook her head. “But that is because he’s been turned into a vampire.”

“Has he, though? Or is that just a big lie? Because as far as I’ve seen, he’s not vampire-like, he’s just rude and full of himself. And, I just saw him skulking off somewhere by himself at lunchtime. Why would he not go for lunch unless he was up to something?”

“Because vampires don’t eat like regular people. And he is a vampire, not a kleptomaniac.”

“Can he not be both?” Artemis asked, and Penny sighed deeply. “No, but think about it. If he is a vampire, like you say he is, then he would be able to steal things easily, wouldn’t he? He can go anywhere he likes, as long as someone invites him in. Loads of girls like him these days, they might do it, or he could just fly into all the dormitories as a bat.”

“If someone had invited him in, then they’d know he was there to steal things,” Penny reasoned. “And him already changing into a bat would mean that he wouldn’t need to become an Animagus.”

Artemis frowned. Penny had a point. Still, there was something not right about Victor, she was sure of it. Penny clearly could see that she had out-argued Artemis, because she gave her a wide smile and returned to her lunch. Artemis sighed before picking out some sandwiches for herself. Her stomach had begun to rumble almost as loudly as the thunder outside.

After lunch, Artemis had a double Care of Magical Creatures lesson. Having finished her sandwiches and bade farewell to the other girls, she made her way through the wet and windy grounds to the outdoor classroom, where she found all the rest of her classmates standing under the wooden shelters as they waited for Professor Kettleburn to arrive.

All except one, that was.

“Where’s Merula?” Artemis asked. Her question was met with a chorus of non-committal noises and Charlie Weasley’s shrugging shoulders. “Ismelda, you’re Merula’s friend. Do you not have any idea where she is?”

“No,” muttered Ismelda. “I dunno where she is, and I’m not her friend, either.”

“But I thought-”

“You thought wrong, didn’t you?” Ismelda sighed, a dark look in her eyes. “Merula and I hardly even speak these days. She went all of last month without saying a word to me. I’m not exaggerating.”

“She isn’t,” said Barnaby, nodding his head enthusiastically. “Merula didn’t speak to anyone last month at all. She didn’t even tell me I was stupid. I thought that maybe I was getting cleverer, but she is talking again now and she’s called me stupid three times in the last week. So I don’t think I am getting cleverer, after all. Look, a Bowtruckle!”

Barnaby walked off to look at a nearby tree with a spring in his step, apparently nonplussed by Merula’s behaviour. Artemis frowned.

“Wait,” she said, turning back to Ismelda. “So, Merula didn’t talk for a whole month?”

“Yes, Hexley. I’m surprised that you didn’t notice.”

“Do you know why?”

“No. All I know is that she’s now talking again,” Ismelda scowled. “Talking too much, if you ask me. Keeps reciting lines of poetry or something in Latin at dawn and dusk every day. It’s irritating.”

As Professor Kettleburn trudged through the mud to meet them and the lesson began, Artemis found herself struggling to concentrate. As the class went on with no sign of Merula, something kept niggling at the back of her brain.

“Earth to Artemis,” said Charlie, waving his hand in front of her face. She blinked, realising that she had not been paying attention. Charlie frowned. “You alright, mate?”

“Yeah, I just… Don’t you think it’s weird?”

“Er, what?”

“Merula,” Artemis said. “I mean, she stops talking for a month, and then she’s speaking odd Latin words, and now she’s not here.”

“I guess,” Charlie shrugged, and used the sleeve of his robes to push rainwater off his face as yet another roll of thunder echoed in the distance. “Maybe she just doesn’t like the idea of being out in this rain.”

“And the Latin?”

“I dunno. A spell, maybe? I don’t know what kind of spell you’d need to do every morning and evening though.”

Artemis’ eyes widened. She actually did know of a spell that had to be recited every morning and evening without fail; she had recited it herself for a while shortly before her fourteenth birthday, the night she had become an Animagus. Thinking about it, she had also spent a month not talking as part of the ritual, having held a mandrake leaf under her tongue for an entire lunar cycle.

There was another great rumble of thunder, and Artemis bit her lip, hard. The final stage of the Animagus ritual had to take place during a storm. If her suspicions were correct - and she was certain that they were - Merula would be attempting to complete the spell as soon as the storm reached the grounds. 

The second Professor Kettleburn dismissed the class, Artemis set off at a run. She had to find Merula, and quickly. The Animagus spell was complicated, she knew that from her own experience, and if it went wrong, the effects could be catastrophic. Artemis had only been able to do it with the combined help of Rowan, Penny, and Talbott, and as far as she knew, Merula was doing it alone. 

Once she was sure she was out of sight of her peers, she transformed into a cat and ran through the wet grass across the grounds. When she had completed the final part of the Animagus spell, she had done so on the Quidditch pitch, a good open space that was out of sight from the castle or Hagrid’s hut. It seemed a sensible place to look for Merula, and surely enough, when she got there, she could see her standing in the centre of the pitch.

“Merula!” Artemis called out, girl-formed once more, and Merula turned around to scowl at her.

“What do you want, Hexley?”

“Are you trying to become an Animagus?”

Merula’s scathing look became one of surprise, then one of mistrust.

“How…” she crossed her arms over her chest and glowered at Artemis. In one of her hands was a small potion vial that might have been made of crystal. “What’s it to you?”

“You know how dangerous that is, right?”

“Only if you don’t know what you’re doing.”

“Do you know what you’re doing, though?” asked Artemis, and Merula rolled her eyes. “I mean it, Merula. You’re messing around with really difficult and-”

“Sod off, Hexley. Stop interfering in things you don’t understand.”

“Actually, Merula, I do understand.”

Merula scoffed. “Yeah, right.”

“Yeah,” said Artemis, and she sighed deeply before transforming into a cat and back again. Merula’s jaw dropped open. “Right.”

“Okay, so you’re a hypocrite,” Merula told her, quickly regaining her composure. “You don’t care about me. You just want to be the only person at Hogwarts who can change into an animal.”

“I’m not…” Artemis shook her head, stopping before she let Talbott’s secret slip. “I just wanted to make sure that you have help.”

“I don’t need help.”

“I needed help.”

“Well, I’m not you,” snapped Merula. “Just go away, Hexley.”

“I’m not going anywhere. I’m going to help you whether you want me to or not.”

The two girls glared at each other stubbornly for a few moments, until a roll of thunder - louder and closer than any of the ones preceding it - made Merula give in.

“Ugh, fine. Just don’t get in my way,” she said. “And don’t say anything. You’ll only annoy me.”

In response, Artemis pressed her forefinger to her lips. Above them, ominous dark clouds had gathered, and the rain was falling so heavily that Artemis wasn’t sure that Merula would hear her even if she were to say something. There was a flash of lightning, and the potion in Merula’s hand turned red. Merula looked from the potion to the sky, and then at Artemis, who nodded grimly.

“Bottoms up,” Merula shouted over the sound of the thunder. She pulled the stopper off the potion vial and brought it to her lips, drinking until the liquid was drained. She pointed her wand to the centre of her torso.

“Wait,” said Artemis, already breaking her silence. “You have to point at your heart.”

Merula frowned, but moved her wand upwards and to her left, before reciting the incantation: “Amato Animo Animato Animagus!” She paused, and seemed to battle with herself before turning to Artemis and asking, “Now what?”

“Now you transform,” Artemis told her. “You should have an idea of the animal you’ll become, like you can see it behind your eyes. Imagine yourself transforming, and then do it.”

As Merula closed her eyes, Artemis crossed her fingers, already wondering what - if any - animal Merula would turn into. If she were to guess, she would have said that Merula might be a wildcat, or a crow, or a skunk; something untamed and savage. More than anything, she hoped that Merula had managed to complete the entire ritual correctly, and would not end up permanently misfigured. 

Artemis closed her eyes as well, barely able to watch, and when she opened them, Merula was gone. She looked down at the ground where Merula’s feet had been to see something small, spherical, and completely covered in thick brown fur.

“A Puffskein!” Relieved and amused, Artemis laughed out loud. Puffskein-Merula looked up at her, and she laughed harder as she realised that even in Puffskein form, Merula had retained her orange fringe, violet eyes, and grumpy expression. “Sorry, I just… You’re a Puffskein!”

Puffskein-Merula made a high-pitched angry chirrup that only served to make Artemis double over with laughter. When she managed to stop and get her breath back, Artemis could see that Merula looked even grumpier than ever.

“Honestly, Merula, I’m just relieved that you managed to do it without hurting yourself,” said Artemis, biting her lip to stop herself from giggling again. “Right. Turn back so we can go back to the castle and out of the rain.” 

Merula chirruped again, remaining in her Puffskein form.

“Oh, come on. It’s cold and I’m soaked through,” Artemis rolled her eyes, and Puffskein-Merula screwed her own shut. She still did not change back. Artemis’ eyes widened in horror. “You can change back, right?”

Puffskein-Merula screwed up her Puffskein face again and again, clearly trying her hardest to transform back into a human, to no avail. There was no doubt about it: Merula was stuck as a Puffskein.

“Merula, I think we need to get you some help. Look, I’m really, really sorry about this, but…”

Grimacing, Artemis bent down and picked up Puffskein-Merula, tucking her under her cloak and ignoring her loud and indignant chirrups as she carried her back to the castle.

Artemis’ first thought had been to take Merula to Professor McGonagall; as the Transfiguration teacher and an Animagus herself, she was bound to know how to return Merula to her human form. However, even as a Puffskein, Merula was able to make her opinions on this matter clear. After Artemis had gained a set of Puffskein-sized tooth marks on her lower arm, she decided that maybe Merula was right, and it would be better to try and solve the problem without any help from the school staff.

Unfortunately, neither the general counter spell nor the detransfiguration spell McGonagall had taught Artemis in her second year served to help Merula at all. She tried taking Merula to the library to see if she could find anything in the books Rowan had used to research the Animagus spell in their third year, but was thrown out by Madam Pince the librarian after Merula attempted to do her own research, using her mouth and hairy body to turn the pages of the large, leather-bound tomes.

“I will not tolerate pets being allowed to handle books, Miss Hexley!” Madam Pince said, glaring at Puffskein-Merula. “Look at this. There are toothmarks on the page!”

“You should see my arm,” muttered Artemis, but she did as Madam Pince told her. She scooped Merula up and carried her out of the library and down to the Hufflepuff Common Room. “Chiara did her work experience in the spell damage ward at St Mungo’s,” she whispered. “She might know what to do.”

Merula exhaled loudly, but did not try to bite. Artemis took that as a sign that she was happy with this plan. She found Chiara revising Herbology with Penny and Tonks in the corner of the Common Room, and plonked Merula down on the table in front of them. 

“You know how you thought that the thief was hoping to become an Animagus?” she asked Penny, who nodded. “Well, we were right. The thing is, now Merula is stuck like this.”

“Wait, Merula was the thief?” Penny asked, her blue eyes wide.

“She was. Now she’s just a Puffskein,” said Artemis, and Merula let out a series of grumbling chirps that made the others start to giggle. Merula narrowed her round eyes at them, and Artemis rolled her own. “I don’t know what you’re so annoyed about, Merula. It’s not our fault that you look ridiculous. Chiara, any ideas on how to get her back the way she was?”

Before Chiara could respond, the girls were interrupted by the arrival of Bea Haywood, who rushed over to the girls with one of her friends, both of them barely able to conceal their excitement.

“Is that your Puffskein, Artemis? Can we play with it?”

Artemis shrugged. “Sure. Why not?”

Bea and her friend went to pick up Puffskein-Merula, who puffed up her fur, bared her teeth, and growled at them. The two younger girls squealed with delight.

“Oh, my goodness!” said Bea’s friend, both her hands placed to her cheeks. “It’s so cute!”

“You know, they have a point,” whispered Tonks, as Bea carried a squirming and chirruping Merula away. “Do we haveto put her back the way she was?” 

“Ethically, yes,” said Chiara, though she looked tempted.

“Shame. Guess I’ll just have to find something else to use for Beater practice.”

“Do you know how to change her back?” Artemis asked Chiara, who shook her head.

“No, human-animal transfiguration is far too complicated for me to reverse. You should probably take her Professor McGonagall or Madam Pomfrey.”

“I did try that, but she wasn’t too keen on the idea.”

“I’m not surprised,” Penny huffed. “Really, she could get into an awful lot of trouble for this. Not just the spell, but the stealing, too. I wonder why she’s been doing it.”

“We’ll never know if we don’t get her back in a shape where she can tell us,” sighed Artemis. “I guess I’ll just have to persuade her that McGonagall is the best option. In case she won’t listen, can I borrow a pair of Herbology gloves from one of you? I didn’t realise such tiny teeth would hurt so much.”

Eventually, Artemis was able to prise Merula away from the third year girls, and between the threat of being stuck as a child’s pet forever and the promise that Artemis would take the blame for her transformation, Merula was far more amenable to being taken to Professor McGonagall. The Transfiguration teacher was not best pleased with the situation, nor with Artemis’ explanation that Merula’s state was the result of a duel gone wrong. After a lecture about school rules and ‘knowing better by now’, Merula was sent to the Hospital Wing and Artemis back to the common room, both Hufflepuff and Slytherin having lost twenty house points each.

Merula was still in the Hospital Wing a week later, much to her disgust. Artemis had been curious to know how her detransfiguration was going, but so far, Merula had declined visitors. 

“She’s finally stopped chirping,” Chiara told her friends over dinner after having spent the evening volunteering in the Hospital Wing. “But her eyes are still round and her forehead is a bit hairy. Madam Pomfrey is hopeful that she will be out in time for the Halloween feast on Wednesday, though.”

“Well, that is good,” said Penny. “I’d hate to think of anyone missing their last Halloween feast.”

She aimed her last sentence at Artemis, who pursed her lips tightly. So far, she had managed to miss the majority of every single annual Halloween feast during her time at Hogwarts. It wasn’t her fault - each year something had happened to prevent her attending - but in Penny’s eyes, missing an event like Halloween was close to sacrilege. Still, being her last year, Artemis was fully intending to not miss the feast this time.

“I’m guessing that no one has been able to ask Merula about the stolen stuff if she’s only just stopped chirping?” Tonks asked, and Chiara shook her head. Penny frowned.

“Artemis, you did tell Corey about Merula being the thief, didn’t you?” she said, sighing heavily when Artemis shook her head. “Well, you really had ought to tell someone. You know, that necklace was given to Talbott by his mum before she died. It has a feather on it from her Animagus form.”

“I know, it’s just… Well, why would Merula steal that?” Artemis wrinkled her nose. “I know she took Snape’s potions ingredients and broke into the greenhouse, but we haven’t got any proof that she took anything else. I’d rather speak to her about it myself before I get Corey involved. He’ll only stick his nose in where it’s not wanted and take over.”

“I suppose so. It could be that there are two thieves, after all. Talbott did say that Tulip was telling Badeea that she saw someone trying to poke around the Whomping Willow the other day.”

“What? But that’s mad!”

“I’m just telling you what Talbott said Tulip said,” Penny said. “Apparently it looked like they were leaving something under the roots, or picking something up from under the roots. You never know, it might have been the thief hiding their loot.”

Artemis couldn’t imagine that anyone, thief or not, would risk hiding anything under the vicious tree, but she nodded anyway. It was something else to bring up with Merula once she was free from the Hospital Wing. Until then, she had plenty of other more exciting things to think about, like Quidditch practice and Halloween. 

But by the day of the feast, Artemis had stopped feeling excited at all. She woke up on Wednesday morning feeling strangely apathetic, with a small niggling doubt that grew as the day went on, despite her being unsure what she was doubtful of. It was only as she walked into the Great Hall and saw Penny, Tonks, and Chiara sitting at the pumpkin-decked Hufflepuff table beneath the bat-ridden ceiling that she realised exactly what was bothering her: something - or rather, someone - was missing.

Suddenly, Artemis didn’t fancy going to the Halloween feast at all. Thankfully, her friends hadn’t seen her yet, so she slipped away before they could beckon her over to sit with her, and left to sit in the quad, looking at the stars and listening to the sounds of the other students in the Great Hall from outside its walls. 

A set of footsteps broke her peace and quiet, and she looked up to see that someone else was walking away from the feast. She squinted to see who it was in the darkness, and though she couldn’t make out their facial features, she recognised the leather jacket they wore over their robes.

“Victor?”

“What are you doing out here?” asked Victor Ketsueki, stuffing his hands into his pockets and he walked towards her. “Don’t you have a feast to go to?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Artemis told him, and he laughed sharply.

“Yeah, I don’t really see the point. Like, pumpkins and skeletons are cool when you’re eleven, but we are adults now,” he said, shaking his head so that his hair fell away from his face. “There are better things I can do with my spare time.” He cocked an eyebrow at Artemis and leaned towards her as he added, “Talking to you isn’t one of them. Sorry, Hexley.”

He skulked away, leaving Artemis to glower at the back of his head.

“Where are you going?” she called after him, and he laughed again.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Artemis, thoroughly annoyed now, crossed her arms and scowled. What did everybody see in Victor Ketsueki? He wasn’t mysterious, he was just arrogant. Were all vampires like that? And what was he up to, sneaking around when everyone else was at the Halloween feast? A suspicion re-entered Artemis’ mind; perhaps Victor really was the thief. She didn’t care what Penny said about it not making sense, it made sense to her. No doubt he was off to steal things right now.

Artemis’ mind was made up. She was going to follow him and catch him in the act. She went back inside the castle, where she could hear footsteps echoing down the corridor, and she followed the noise, her lit wand in her hand. She must have been gaining on him, because the footsteps were getting louder. Speeding up, she turned the corner and-

“OW!”

Artemis stepped backwards, rubbing her forehead where she had crashed into the person who had been walking around the corner. Apparently, the footsteps had been getting louder because their owner had been walking towards her. 

“Sorry,” she said, looking up at the person she had crashed into. The other person glared back at her with narrowed violet eyes.

“Watch where you’re going, Hexley,” said Merula, rubbing her nose. “You nearly broke my face.”

“Like I said, I’m sorry. I thought you were someone else.”

“Who?”

“Victor Ketsueki. I was trying to follow him.”

“Don’t tell me you’re one of those girls now,” Merula said, rolling her eyes. “And I thought I couldn’t possibly have any less respect for you…”

“It’s not like that,” Artemis shook her head. “I think he might be the person who’s been stealing all the stuff from the dormitories.”

“Ketsueki? Nah.”

“Why not? He’s been acting strangely ever since he came back from the summer,” said Artemis, but Merula looked unconvinced. “I think it’s more likely to be him than you.”

“Me?” Merula looked almost offended. “Why would I be nicking stuff from people’s dormitories?”

“I dunno. You nicked stuff from Snape’s store.”

“Only the stuff for the Animagus potion.”

“Penny thought that maybe whoever was making the potion was trying to to become an Animagus so they could steal things more easily.”

“That’s because Haywood is a moron.”

“She isn’t,” Artemis’ nostrils flared. “Okay, then. Why were you trying to become an Animagus? There must have been some reason.”

Merula pursed her lips before answering. “I just wanted to see if I could.”

“You what?”

“It’s one of the most complicated spells there is. I wanted to prove that I was powerful enough to do it.”

“Well, that worked out just great, didn’t it?”

“Shut up, Hexley. I almost got it completely right.”

“Almost,” Artemis raised her eyebrows at Merula before peering up and down the corridor. “I wonder where he’s gone. Maybe to the Whomping Willow.”

“What?” asked Merula, her eyebrows knitting together.

“Apparently someone has been hanging around the Whomping Willow. They think it’s the thief.”

“Why would they think that?”

“Because they were hiding things under the roots. Like maybe stolen stuff,” Artemis shrugged. “But don’t you see? That’s why it makes sense for it to be Victor Ketsueki. Most people would be scared of getting whomped, but if he’s a vampire, he’s hardly going to care about a tree, is he?”

“I guess not,” Merula said, looking deep in thought. “I thought he’d made up the whole vampire thing, but maybe you’re right for once, Hexley. It might be him.”

“I’m sure it is. Do you want to help me find him?”

“He could be anywhere now, and it’s the Halloween feast,” replied Merula, hesitantly. “Shouldn’t you be there, too?”

“Oh,” Artemis averted her eyes. “I dunno. I’m not sure I want to go, really.”

“Why not?”

“Nothing. It’s stupid.”

“Either it’s stupid enough that you don’t need to worry about it and you should just go, or it’s not stupid and… Well, maybe you might want to… I dunno… talk about it?”

Artemis tilted her head. “With you?”

“Maybe. I guess. Yeah.”

Merula huffed, but her face was sincere and not mocking. Artemis sighed.

“Fine,” she said. “It’s just that every year I’ve missed the feast, and the one year I’ve been able to enjoy it, I can’t because Rowan’s not here to enjoy it with me. I went to go and I suddenly felt really guilty, like I should have gone before and been there with her, and now it’s too late for that and…”

“You’d rather not go at all than go without her,” Merula finished Artemis’ sentence for her. Artemis nodded, and Merula frowned. “Why not? I mean, if Khanna liked the Halloween feast so much, she’d hardly want you to sit out here and mope about instead of going, would she? And anyway, it’s not like you’ll have another chance to go. It’s our last one. You say you regret not going before because it’s too late, you know that next year you’ll regret not going this year either, and it’ll really be too late.”

“I suppose.”

“Ugh, I hate that you’re making me do this,” muttered Merula. “Hexley, if you don’t go, then I won’t go.”

“Do you not want to go?” Artemis asked her.

“Obviously I want to go. I love the Halloween feast. It’s the best night of the year, I can’t believe you’ve been missing out all this time.”

“But-”

“But you stayed with me in the rain to make sure I didn’t get horrifically misfigured, and you took the blame for me turning into a Puffskein, so… I owe you one. If you’re not going, I’m not going.”

Merula’s face was stubborn, but Artemis was sure that she could see a faint glimmer of triumph in her violet eyes. Artemis sighed.

“Well then, it looks like I don’t have much choice but to go, do I?” she said, and together,  the two girls walked back through the darkened castle towards the Great Hall, where the Halloween Feast was just about to begin.