#so he takes them all down to the vault where copies of the black text are stored

[clonerightsagenda]

#recently read March 25

Projections by S E Porter. The ghost of a young woman murdered by a jealous sorcerer narrates his continued destructive obsession and her quest for revenge. *An effectively constructed look at toxic masculinity, could've been shorter imo.

Heavenly Tyrant by Xiran Jay Zhao. After waking the legendary lost emperor, Zetian is forced to play along as his empress until they can overthrow the gods. *Was not expecting all the labor theory tbh but sure. A real 'leftist man who won't do the dishes' situation.

Taiwan Travelogue by Yang Shuang-Zi. Novel pretending to be translated autofiction by a Japanese visitor to colonial Taiwan, documenting her fraught relationship with her local interpreter. *Fun with metafiction, explores the limitations of translation and affection between colonizer and colonized.

Snow Crash by Neal Stephenson. A hacker and a courier team up to stop the release of a virus meant to hack people's brains. *Definitely helpful to read to orient me to other works in the genre but boy was it written by a white man in the early 90s.

Look Again by Elizabeth Trembley. Graphic memoir illustrating how the author's recollection of finding a corpse in the woods changed with each retelling, and how trauma impacts our memory.

Alien Clay by Adrian Tchaikovsky. A professor and political dissident is sent to a labor camp searching for the lifeforms that created signs of civilization on an alien world. *Tchaikovsky really loves speculative xenobiology huh. Also appreciated the full throated radicalism.

Magus of the Library by Mitsu Izumi. A young outcast trains to become one of the elite librarians who maintain the world's fragile peace. *My coworkers keep recommending library mangas. I didn't follow everything but the most recent volume featured the librarians debating their role in providing or restricting access to texts that foment bigotry and violence, which is a discussion our profession continues to have.

[bellygunnr]

you’d finally like to learn ch.6

mail from the outside comes once a month. you rifle through it now, a veritable backlog of family correspondence better sent as texts or emails. you've told them as such, but apparently there's virtue to be had in handwritten letters, even if Black Mesa screens them. you're not sure if you're going to have time to respond to them all this month.

probably not.

you slice open one envelope that has your brother's handwriting. you like your brother-- he's younger than you by a few years, an elementary school teacher. last time you heard from him, he was teaching some of the Kleiner family's kids.

what a small town you had lived in.

his letter is short, an easy skim through. he's back in college to start teaching higher grades.

he wants to be a physics teacher, apparently.

"runs in the family, i guess," he jokes on paper, ending the letter.

you fold it neatly and pick another envelope-- and discard it immediately, face down. it seems that even the Black Mesa mountain cannot protect you from your own mother.

that's all right.

you can protect yourself.

(and you do, by trimming your beard).

-

"Officer Calhoun, please step onto the platform."

Officer Calhoun does.

The room erupts into flashing red hostility, a klaxon alarm blaring overhead. Its steady, unfailing beat guides Calhoun's footsteps as he runs forward, eyes darting back and forth, his gun already grasped firmly in his hands. The safety's on, his finger off the trigger.

Security Breach Level 1. Security Force Authorized for Lethal Action. Security Breach Level 1. Security Force--

Something flashes in the corner of his eye. He turns, maneuvering so that his back is to a wall, and fires. Calhoun doesn't wait to see the result, plunging back into the arena. When his corridor abruptly ends in a wall, he leaps onto a bright red ladder.

Seconds are lost holstering his gun.

When the ladder ends, he vaults the wall and tucks into a roll, then throws his body forward when something solid rushes him.

it hits the ground with a metal clank. the klaxon screams, the Black Mesa woman roars, and Officer Calhoun flees the metal contraption but it chases him--

it's new, this isn't just a performance check,

Security Force Authorized for Lethal Action.

Calhoun wedges himself into a falsified piece of labyrinth, the metal clanking distinct underneath the alarm, his gun already at the ready. The thing had a definitive skull, neck, and body, its legs stilt-like but not humanoid.

The wall his back is pressed against shudders. Calhoun snaps away, vision filled with metal-squeeze-light-BANG

his eyes burn and his ears ring

he stumbles climbing over the machine, right onto the final platform.

Instantly, the noise stops.

"Officer Calhoun, you have completed your monthly Black Mesa Security Force Assessment. Your results will be given to you by your Squadron Leader. Have a Very Safe Day."

-

The locker room feels too small with the entire Squad inside. The fluorescent lights flicker overhead, impersonal and sanitized, unforgiving in their assessment of the Security Force. Every dent, ding, and stain is revealed, made uglier by the artificial rays. Barney stares at one now through the shoulders of two younger compatriots, wondering if it was blood, food, or shit that streaked the tiles there.

No way of knowing. He wonders if Freeman would be able to find out in that lab of his.

Maybe.

The group shifts and steps around each other as one by one, Otis calls them forward, then sends them on their way with a yellow folder in hand. The Black Mesa stamp glints wetly from where Barney can see it-- either fresh ink or some kind of sticker. He's too tired to discern the difference.

It's hot in this crowd of bodies. The heat fails to abate even as more of his coworkers leave.

He blames the recently-run hot showers whose steam still fogs the mirrors. Maybe he blames the shakiness in his hands, the waves of heat that make his face flush and his muscles burn, or the lingering sense of danger that makes his neck hair stand on end.

Maybe he blames the sharp bellow of "Cal-houn!" that makes him jump, hands grasping for nothing, boots squeaking as he spurs into action.

"Good job out there," Otis says. "You've got the weekend off. Go get some rest, Barn. Looks like you need it."

Barney just nods, the yellow folder crumpling at the corners where his hands clutch it.

The trek home is lonely. But Black Mesa is blessedly cold topside when the sun's gone underground.

-

the Black Mesa firing range is well-equipped. you've never been to an indoor range before, so you're careful to adhere to the rules and wear ear protection. you get strange looks from some of the others-- but that's alright; beyond being used to strange looks, you're also a scientist, a rare sight in this neck of the compound.

thankfully, the range provided firearms for practice, accepting cash for practice ammunition. unfortunately, you're out of practice, wasting shots getting a feel for the gun.

guns were not unfamiliar to you. you had carried one throughout college, then grad school, encouraged by experiences best left forgotten.

your last shot in the clap hits perfect center. you move immediately to put in six more bullets, but--

Barney's there, his nose wrinkled.

"Come here often, Doc?"

"Not to this range, no."

"You're not a bad shot, for someone wearing glasses."

A grin, a gentle jab.

"Probably means the glasses are doing their jobs."

you try to grin back, return some of the humor, but you haven't got enough heart in it. it must translate, because barney's expression becomes pinched, making you feel a little bad.

"Take the spot next to me. We'll see who's better," you say, gesturing on to the empty space, teeth bared in a grin.

barney beats you handily. honestly, you'd be worried if he didn't.

when you say as much, he laughs.

(it's strained)

-

for the first time, you two sit together and have a cold beer in the safety of Calhoun's dorm. the TV's display warps into a flurry of colors every now and again but it doesn't diminish the copy of Community he's put on. it acts as background noise to the two of you--

cooking.

or something to that effect.

barney's doing most of the work while you sit back and observe, the alcohol making you pleasantly warm, and acutely aware of how much Barney dwarfs you in size. he may be shorter, but his shoulders are wide, arms thick with muscle. he's not lacking in thighs either, and if you were drinking something stronger, you might have squeezed his ass. it was a very nice ass, the nicest you've ever seen.

you wonder what he'd do if you told him.

"Hey, Doc, can you hand me those mushrooms?"

wordlessly, you press the cup of chopped mushrooms into his outstretched hand. as he dumps them into the sizzling pan, you pull him around to make sure he's looking.

"You should call me Gordon. It's been long enough."

"Then you gotta call me Barney or somethin', D-- Gord! Gordon," Barney laughs, tossing the ingredients of the pan with practiced ease. "Come on, you haven't called me anything but 'Calhoun' or 'Officer' since we met."

was that true? you can't really recall, taking another sip of beer.

him calling you Gordon had felt nice. pleasant. more than that, even.

"Barney," you say, then wave your hands through the air in excitement, only flapping harder when Barney looks at you with unmistakable joy.

-

Sunday morning finds Barney stumbling out of his room and into a suspiciously clean apartment, evidence of last night reduced to nothing but a scientist asleep on his couch. He stares in confusion for a long moment. It's definitely Gordon, but without the usual stress and tension, he looks like a completely different person. And once again, the man's shirtless, just as he had been last time. His pale skin is decorated with freckles. Evidence of burgeoning muscle show in his folded arms which are partially obscured by the sheer amount of red curls on his head. Barney can't help but smile at that and reminds himself to get out the wide-toothed comb when Gordon wakes up.

[atamascolily]

The cover of Junior Jedi Knights #5: Vader's Fortress by Rebecca Moesta features Anakin and Artoo dodging blaster fire while Tahiri does a bad-ass leap and Darth Vader looms in the background. So I guess this next field trip is to wherever the hell Vader's fortress is located... and given that this book was published in 1997, I'm pretty sure it isn't Mustafar.

Readers, I squealed with delight when I realized they were actually going to Bast Castle on Vjun.

[cut for length and discussion of Dark Empire]

Vjun's first appearance was in Dark Empire, but it's the main setting for Sean Stewart's Clone War-era novel Yoda: Dark Rendezvous (2004), which happens to be one of the best Legends books ever. Period. Drop everything and go read it now. Stewart's Vjun is a Dark side Gothic horror wonderland full of crumbling castles, crazed nobility, and flesh-eating moss. I love it, and you will, too.

Vjun also appears in various video games, with no less than Kyle Katarn describing it as "a big, dead, important rock". High praise, indeed.

Oh, and if you're curious, Wookiepeedia says Vjun is "pronounced as "VAH-JUHN" in Star Wars: Jedi Knight: Jedi Academy, but in Star Wars Battlefront: Elite Squadron, it is pronounced as "VUHN"".... so anything goes, really.

Anyway, so having dealt with his heritage by going to Dagobah in the last book, the logical next step is for Anakin to actually go and visit Vader's castle in person. You know, exposure therapy. Right?

Okay, let's see what the text says.

Anakin, Tahiri and Uldir are hanging out on the landing pad on Yavin IV waiting for Tionne to show up. Tahiri loves Tionne so much, she doesn't mind waiting around, and she wishes she could have gone with Tionne on this latest trip to Borgo Prime and I just... I love their relationship, okay?

Tionne has a new ship - the Lore Seeker! Anakin uses the Force to determine it's in great shape despite its odd appearance. (It has sails to harness solar wind, lol!)

“I’m glad to hear you say that,” the Jedi instructor said with a smile. “I thought so, too. But because the ship was so old, I was able to buy it from a Randoni trader for a song.”

“How much did you really pay?” Uldir asked.

Tionne shrugged.

“Just a song. Really. While I was looking for Jedi legends, I came across an ancient song that told about the very firstRan - doni merchants and the vaults where they hid their wealth. The trader was so interested that she offered me the Lore Seeker in exchange for the song. Now come help me unload my cargo, and I’ll show you some of my other treasures.”

DID I MENTION I LOVE HER???

Also, Tionne got some other stuff, too:

“You may carry this Twi’lek story-chain, Tahiri-each link tells a different part of a story. Please be very careful with it. Uldir, here is a holodisk. It holds a recording of some very old Jedi songs. Anakin, would you please carry this scroll? I’ll take the tapestry.”’

AHHHHHH, I LOVE THIS.

But Tionne found out something else important "in an old fortress on a planet called Vjun" and this is where I started SCREAMING because I know exactly where this is going and this is such a great set-up - especially since none of the kids have a clue.

Of course, they want to go, and Tionne's trying to be diplomatic about it.

“Does anyone live in the fortress?” Anakin asked.

Tionne shook her head.

“Not anymore.”

“Well, if it’s really that important, don’t you think you ought to go find it?” Tahiri said. “And don’t forget that you promised to take me with you this time.”

“I’d like to go along, too,” Anakin added.

“Yeah, it sounds like fun,” Uldir said.

Tionne frowned.

“I’m not sure Master Skywalker will approve. It could be a bit dangerous."

LOLOLOLOL, since when has that ever stopped anybody in this series?? But according to Tionne, the danger isn't Sith ghosts or anything like that - it's other people trying to snag a certain treasure first.

And what is this special object? the kids want to know.

Tionne’s face lit with a wondering smile, and she gave a happy sigh.

“It’s Obi-Wan Kenobi’s lightsaber!”

ITS A MACGUFFIN! Also, given all of Vader’s issues with Obi-wan, the fact that he kept his old master’s lightsaber in his hidden Gothic Drama Castle is... something. But I digress.

Cut to Luke, being Luke.

Luke Skywalker, dressed in a comfortable black flightsuit, sat on the stone floor in the room where he meditated and did his office work. At the moment, though, Luke was not meditating. Before him in the center of the room stood his barrel-shaped blue and white droid, ArtooDetoo. It was time for Artoo’s routine cleaning. Anakin’s older sister Jaina often helped Luke with this chore, but the Jedi Master didn’t mind doing it himself. He actually found it relaxing. With his tools neatly laid out on the floor and fresh packets of lubricant beside him, Master Skywalker opened ArtooDetoo’s front panels and got to work.

After checking the droid’s numerous electrical connections, Luke added a few gadgets and upgrades Jaina had scrounged up for Artoo: a retractable mirror attachment, a power booster for the comm unit, and a new focusing lens for the hologram projector.

I'm sure NONE of these upgrades will come in handy later on in the book. Nope. Nope. Nope. Move along, nothing to see here, just a boy and his bro-bot.

Ikrit is hanging out on top of Artoo's head during all of this, when there's a knock at the door. Luke asks him to open the door and Ikrit DOES and I don't know why I find this so adorable, but I totally do. More of this, please.

Luke looked up from the packet of slippery lubricant he held in his hand, then smiled when he saw who his visitors were.

“Come in,” he said, “all of you.”

His words seemed to open an invisible dam, because people and noises instantly flooded into his quiet room. Luke laughed as everyone tried to talk to him at once.

“Master Skywalker, I have wonderful news,” Tionne said. “You’ll never guess in a million years,” Tahiri added.

“Can I go with them?” Anakin asked.

“Yeah, me too!” Uldir said.

News of Obi-wan's lightsaber makes Luke have all kinds of Feels (and a handy flashback for those who have forgotten the movies). Luke's like, Oh, yeah, Bast Castle, I've been there before back in Dark Empire when things got weird, and Anakin FREAKS OUT. Tionne's like, huh, maybe that's why my contact said only family had a right to claim the lightsaber then.

Tionne wants Luke to come with her, but Luke is meeting with Leia for pressing NR business, so Anakin volunteers to go as the family rep. I love that Luke looks at Ikrit first, and only says okay when Ikrit nods. Of course Uldir wants to come too, and Luke is about to say no, but Tionne's like "he's just going to stow away, so you might as well and the cargo hold on my ship is too small for him plus our stuff" so Luke caves. DID I MENTION HE'S A SOFTIE?? And with Artoo and Ikrit to help, Luke feels good about it, but again, he insists on the parental permission first.

[Oh, no, I just realized that Luke might not want to go back to Vjun after all the traumatic shit that went down in Dark Empire, and that's ALSO horrifying to contemplate. Like, it's not dangerous anymore, so he's okay with sending Anakin there with supervision, but he might not be eager to re-visit it? MY HEART.]

We skip that scene, though, and jump immediately to everyone in the Lore Seeker, and Tionne teaches them about lightsabers. Nomi Sunrider is namedropped (queen!) but overall lightsabers are reified, and I don't know how I feel about that tbh, even though they are admittedly SUPER COOL LASER SWORDS BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ.

Fortunately, Ikrit's there to say "Not All Jedi," since I am not, which catches Tionne off guard, since she didn't know he was a Jedi master. Tionne is apologetic about treating Ikrit like a pet, but Uldir continues to be a jerk, especially when Ikrit starts sharing his own personal trauma. And then Ikrit declaims about Anakin and Tahiri's powers, but graciously includes Uldir once Uldir pokes him about it.

The skies of Vjun are stormy, so it's a bumpy ride down. They land outside the castle instead of on the landing pad at the top because the weather is so awful. Anakin did his homework, and explains the situation (Dark Empire recap!):

“Did Uncle Luke tell you anything about the fortress itself?” Anakin asked.

“I don’t know much about it.”

“Well, I found out as much as I could before we left. Apparently Vader built Bast Castle as one of his private strongholds; he was a powerful man. After both he and Emperor Palpatine died, some of the Emperor’s followers brought a copy of Palpatine’s body here-a clone. This second Emperor was defeated too. Since then, the fortress has been abandoned, as far as we know.”

“I still don’t get it,” Uldir said to Anakin. “Why would your grandfather choose to build in such a desolate place?”

Oh, you sweet summer child.

They spy another shuttle, and Tahiri is forced to wear shoes again so they can climb up in the rain. It's basically the Stairs of Minas Morgul from LOTR, only the rain is turning to sleet. Artoo hates stairs and Ikrit rescues him when he falls off - but he can hack the door open, so that's good. The hall has a giant, larger-than-life statue of Darth Vader toppled over on the floor, because... drama.

Then the laser fire starts, and everybody ducks for cover. Artoo uses his newly-installed reviewed mirror to deflect the laster bolts, so they can disarm the automatic security system. Tionne steps in with her lightsaber when Artoo gets shot, and she and Ikrit start tossing random objects to block them while the kids race for the control panels and it's epic. The statue explodes and Artoo manages to hack the system right before he powers down.

Uldir clapped one hand down on Anakin’s shoulder. “Not half bad for a kid,” he said.

Quiet, you condescending fuck. Yes, I know, he's like 14, but he's still obnoxious as hell here.

Anyway, they repair Artoo, except he can't climb any more stairs (I'm so confused how he did it earlier, but okay), and they debate whether to split the party. The smart answer is always "No," but they eventually do anyway, because plot. Tahiri's just happy not to wear shoes. You'll be happy to know that the bathrooms still work. This whole thing feels like an RPG dungeon crawl and I'm HERE FOR IT.

Tahiri notices the floor's texture shifts and that turns out to be a clue and I LOVE THIS. There's a secret pit trap full of spkes, and then suddenly they're attacked by monsters. But eventually, the others find them and deduce that they're holograms. Anakin IDs himself to a door and it opens into a secret chamber... and then this happens:

At the same moment, a puff of smoke erupted in the doorway, and a dark-haired man with a neat beard, tawny eyes, and a deep purple cloak stood before them. The man threw back his head and laughed, although Anakin couldn’t see what was so funny.

“The powerful Mage of Exis Station thanks you,” he said. “I would never have found the lightsaber without your help.” He snatched the weapon from Tionne’s hand. “But I’ll take it now.”

Tahiri starts pestering this guy with questions and he is startled enough to admit he's the Mighty Orloc. Tahiri realizes he's a stage magician, but even so, he manages to open a trapdoor, sending Tionne and Ikrit elsewhere. The kids rush him, but there's smoke and when it clears, Orloc has vanished.

Ikrit and Tionne are fine, and they start looking to rejoin the kids, who are searching for them and/or Orloc. Artoo and Uldir take a tunnel while Tahiri and Anakin go up stairs. Everyone keeps tossing the stale Imperial ration bars they picked up earlier to test for traps, and the RP gamer  in me approves.

“What’s this?” Tahiri asked, pointing to a raised platform that held a huge tube made of black plasteel. Wires and hoses snaked out from the cylinder in all directions. She ran a hand along its smooth side and found some sort of control panel.

“This looks like the tubes they use to bury dead people in space,” Anakin said.

It's actually Vader's bedroom! They find a little hidden hologram of a young Luke and I just... can't even...

Anakin opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. The little hologram of a young Luke Skywalker turned in a slow circle, so that they could see it from every angle.

...Anakin felt a lump form in his throat. “My mom keeps holograms of me and Jacen and Jaina on her desk at work, and Dad has one of me and the twins in the Millennium Falcon. I think Darth Vader was just doing the same thing.”

“So maybe he wasn’t all bad,” Tahiri said in a soft voice.

Anakin starts to feel better about coming to Bast Castle, which is good, because he has Deep-Seated Issues that need to be resolved.

Meanwhile, Uldir sees the lightsaber as a magical talisman that will help him become a Jedi. He abandons Artoo and confronts Orloc, who draws the blade on him. Orloc offers to teach Uldir his powers if he'll come with him. Orloc's looking for the Holocron in Vader's private quarters, and Uldir is tempted, but ultimately turns him down because he realizes Orloc is a fraud.

Anakin and Tahiri find Orloc and Uldir and Tahiri slides down a pole to confront him. Orloc attacks her with the lightsaber. Tionne and Ikrit show up, and Artoo uses a high-frequency blast to distract Orloc long enough for Ikrit to yank the lightsaber with the Force. Orloc disappears, and Uldir mentions the Holocron in Vader's private quarters. So Anakin and Tahiri take them back there.

Tionne's like, let's GTFO, but Uldir suggests they test it, which is a mistake, but Tionne agrees. OF COURSE Orloc comes back and snags it. They chase Orloc through the castle, and there's a lot of trap door shenanigans, but ultimately Artoo helps save the day and they get the holocron back, even though Orloc conveniently escapes.

(Maybe I've been watching too much Scooby-Doo, but I honestly expected Orloc to say "And I would have gotten away with it, too, if it weren't for you meddling kids and your talking [lagomorph]!" ...maybe in the next book?)

Ikrit suggests they use the ships in the hangar to fly down to the Lore Seeker instead of walking. Anakin suggests Ikrit keeps the ship, since he seems to enjoy piloting, and I don't know how Ikrit is piloting this thing since he's a lagomorph, but it makes him happy, and they all make it back to Yavin in two ships without incident, which means it's time for the inspirational moral!

“It feels good to be back,” he said with a sigh. Tahiri giggled. “That was certainly more of an adventure than I had bargained for.”

Tionne looked at her two students.

“Are you sorry you came with me?”

Anakin shook his head.

“The trip was worth making. I learned some interesting things about Darth Vader.”

“I learned to trust the Force and not just my eyes and ears,” Tahiri said.

“And we did find a lightsaber and a Holocron,” Anakin said.

“And a new ship for Ikrit,” Tahiri added. “So I think we’re glad we came along, but it may be a while before we go looking for adventures again.”

HAHAHAHA, right, kids. You just keep thinking that.

Ikrit names his ship the Sunrider after Nomi Sunrider, because he, too, stans a legend. Anakin and Tahiri ask if they can take the turbolift up to the Great Temple when Luke starts walking up the outside stairs, and Luke has NO IDEA WHY THEY HATE STAIRS, and... on that note, the book ends, with Luke being VERY confused. [I like that Moesta remembers the Great Temple has outside stairs, but... THE LAYOUT STILL MAKES NO SENSE!!!]

So, I don't know how to feel about this book. PROS: I love the character details with Luke, Ikrit, Tionne and Tahiri, and I like how all of the adults continue to be responsible while still allowing opportunities for the children to be competent and show initiative. It's great to see Bast Castle, and the whole thing has the feel of a classic RPG dungeon crawl. Yay for Artoo saving the day ON MULTIPLE OCCASIONS, lol.

CONS: Uldir is annoying, and I wish he'd stop being such a jerk. None of the characters have ever played RPGs and it shows in their lack of genre-savvy. And I guess we'll see Orloc again in the next book, because... it feels like there wasn't much resolution of that particular plot in this book... no resolution to who Orloc actually is, or what or why. I feel like this book is part one of a two-episode plot, and I wasn't expecting that, but okay.

It's unclear if Obi-wan's lightsaber has any further plot significance or if it's just a macguffin. Ditto the holocron. But given the next book is Kenobi's Blade, I suspect Orloc's going to try and snag both, and Uldir is going to have a Not-So-Secret Test of Character about it. (To be fair, he passed the one in this book, so he's not all bad, but he's so obnoxious, it's challenging for me to give him credit where it's due.)

This book also kinda sorta falls into the "Jedi lightsaber fetish" trope, which I hate. Don't get me wrong, I love the laser swords and they are freaking awesome, but I hate how everybody latches onto "Jedi = laser sword" business as a symbol of identity. I know, I know, Star Wars is really ambivalent about whether the Jedi are Space!Samurai or Space!Monks, and I just... lean more towards the latter than the former, I guess?? But like I said, the lightsaber is more of a macguffin here, and Ikrit at least lampshades the issue a little bit, so I feel better about it.  

Also, it just occurred to me it's unclear whether Tahiri hates shoes, sand, or stairs more, lol.

[blueroseblaze]

The Bookkeeper (V + female!reader)

Request: I forgot 😓

Word count: 2006

Warnings: none

Summary: V enters a bookshop owned by a shy and nervous young woman but she is not as she appears

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

The tip of V’s cane ticked against the cobblestone street as he walked underneath the dim street lights. The brisk night air didn’t bother him much. Unlike the reason he was out here so late at night. That part did indeed bother him

“That idiot,” V growled to himself and he scrunched the loose sheet of paper in his fist.

One of V’s more important books had been destroyed when Dante decided to use it as a shield against a demon that found itself inside Devil My Cry. Shredding the book into ribbons of paper and cover. It took a great deal of strength in V’s part not to stab Dante through the chest with his cane.

Finding a replacement for the book, or at least something similar, would be near impossible. However, venturing out to find one have V the opportunity to clear his head and find his composure.

Off in the distance a faint light came through one of the windows that lined the empty streets. V approached it if nothing but out of sheer curiosity. Literally every other store front on the block had been blacked out and locked up tight. The shop keepers most likely trying to protect themselves from any looming creatures of the night looking for foolish prey.

V continued down the street growing closer to the lit window. As he reached it he peered inside. Seeing piles and shelves of books filling the space inside. From his view he could see that many of the books were old. Worn and antiquated. This gave him a glimmer of hope he may come close to what he was searching for. He tested the door handle which he found unlocked and let himself inside. A jingle came from above his head as the top of the door creaked open and knocked into the bell fixed above it. As he opened the door the smell of aged leather and antiquated parchment filled his senses. A warm and welcoming musk overwhelmed him giving a homely feel.

Stepping inside V took note of how the warm colored lights in the ceiling illuminated the stacks and shelves of books, he saw how the dust floated and danced in the air when the light made it visible, how the darkness of the street through the store front window only made the aesthetic of the inside more appealing.

V was snapped out of his thoughts as he heard the creaks of the floor boards coming from the back of the shop. He readied himself for a old crotchety and cynical shop keep to yell at him that they were closed and to get lost. However his ears were met with a much more pleasant sound.

“I’ll be with you in just a minute,” a timid yet clear voice rang out from behind the towering shelves. The voice was feminine, sweet and musical yet soft and gentle.

V stood patiently as the presumed shop owner came into view. A young looking woman dressed in a comfortably large sweater and simple pants and boots. Her hair was tied up and away from her face and her eyes were adorned with a thin wiry pair of glasses that clung to the tip of her nose. Which she corrected by pushing them further up her bridge.

“Hello, can I help you find anything this evening?” She asked.

V stood still for a moment while still looking over her form. She grew visibly flustered at his silence and asked him again.

“Sir? Can I help you?”

V was snapped out of his thought and answered her question.

“Oh yes. Though I’m pretty positive you won’t have exactly I’m looking for.”

The woman let out an adorable giggle.

“I can most certainly try. Now what is it you were looking for?” She asked.

“A demonology book. First edition, bound in demon hide and written in demon blood. No particular author, main subject is summoning and vanishing spells,” he explained. V’s voice held an air of humor, fairly confident that she did not have what he needed.

The young woman looked down at the floor boards as her brow knit together and he bend of her index finger found her lips as she slipped into deep though. Her glasses once again fell down to the tip of her nose as she tapped her foot. V smirked at her amusedly as his adjusted his grip on his cane. He tilted his head as he waited for her to continue.

The girl snapped her fingers as her face lit up with remembrance and joy.

“I think I have exactly that,” she declared as she turned away from him to walk back into the maze of shelves.

“You... you do?” V asked in shock. Taken aback by her response and her confidence in it.

“Yup, just give me a minute,” she replied.

V followed her from behind and watched as she pulled out an aged ladder and hooked it to the top of one of the higher shelves. The ladder roles down rail as she pushed off. Reaching the end of the books much faster. She climbed up the ladder, the old rungs bending underneath her feet and the sides darkened and worn from her grip on them. She ascended the ladder her eyes trailed on a particular book on the highest shelf.

“I’ve been waiting for someone to come in looking for this,” she said as she pulled the book from where it was nestled. A cloud of dust rose from the tops as it was disturbed.

She descended the ladder and walked past V to the front desk gesturing for him to follow her. He did and he stopped at the front counter as she moved behind it, placing the heavy text on the glass counter. She brushed away more of the dust and pulled the book open. The satisfying crackling of old dry adhesive as the pages separated after who knows how long of no use. She flipped through the pages, making sure they were all undamaged before regarding V once again.

“Demonology: The Summoning & Banishment of Unholy & Otherworldly Entities. Volume 2 of the set. Is this it?”

V stared at the book before him in utter shock. This was the exact book that was destroyed. As he flipped through the pages reading the text he found it to be exact. Word for word. This was a find he’d never even hoped of obtaining. This book probably cost a fortune.

“I’m sorry it’s not the first edition. Not many copies of these books exists at all, I’m surprised I even have this one,” the girl said.

V was still speechless as he gawked at the book and then at her. Accidentally making her slightly visibly uncomfortable. He saw her visible shrink back timidly.

“This is incredible. You actually have this,” V said, “And it’s in pristine condition for its age. You take great care in preserving your collection.”

The girl behind the counter relaxed slightly and smiled as a pink dust crept its way up her cheeks. She adjusted her glasses before responding.

“Oh, why thank you. Yes, books are a passion of mine. Especially antique occult books.”

“Are you by any chance selling this one. It was on a high shelf after all?” Asked V.

The woman looked down at the book again.

“Yes I can definitely sell you this one. Although it would be a pretty steep price. A book like this is so rare and with its condition. I don’t want to extort you but I-“

Her sentence was cut off by the smashing of glass from behind her. Tiny crystalline shards shit through the air as a winged he’ll heat crashed through the window. Both V and the woman immediately hit the deck as the demon rampaged through the shop. Knocking over stacks and shelves with reckless abandon. An ear bleeding shriek rang out as the creature continued its assault on the place.

Upon locking its eyes on them the demon dove for the woman behind the counter. Latching its talons into her shoulder it lifted her off the ground with ease and made its escape out the shattered window. The woman’s cries of pain met V’s ears as the demons claws dig deeper into her skin which was pulled down by her weight and gravity. V stood at attention and without a second though he leapt out the store front window and followed them into the night.

His eyes didn’t break from the creature as it soared through the streets dragging the screaming shopkeeper along with it. V was about to ready one of his familiars. Perhaps Griffin’s flying ability would even the odds. However, before he was able to summon any of them he watched as the young woman hoisted herself up by grabbing the demons ankles. With a a tug and a swing she was able to concert her foot with the beast’s underside. Stunning the creature as it began to make a fast descend.

The demon had crashed into a pile of garbage that had been sitting on the cobble stone street, but it’s former captive had managed to tuck and role as the thing hit the ground. Breaking her fall and keeping her on her feet and at the ready. As the creature slashed around trying to regain its standing amongst the debris, the woman had grabbed a metal rod that had been lying with the garbage. Grilling the staff with two hands she readied herself for the hell beast to attack again.

The creature lunged for her, it’s massive jaws extended, ready to clamp down on anything within its reach. The claws at the end of its leathery fleshy wings ready to read any fabric and flesh.

The woman waited patiently, her stance not wavering once as she winded her arms back and shot them forward bringing the metal rod with them. With a loud pang and sickening crack the metal connected with the monsters face. It’s head reeled to the side as the force of the swing through its whole flight pattern off course. The demon flew to the side of the street, landing within another pile of garbage. However it’s seemed to only shake off the attack. It made another attempt to lunge at the girl, only for the girl to step aside and out of the way with the most perfect of timing.

With the creature distracted it was her turn to go on the offensive. With her metal rod in hand the woman vaulted herself towards the demon, leaping high into the air with a flare and a spin she impaled her trusty metal rod straight through the beast’s back. The sound of breaking flesh and snapping bone rang out into the dark accompanying the demons last gasp of life and it shrieked its final hellish cry.

The woman grabbed the rod with both hands and pulled it out of the demon’s corpse. Letting a sickening sound of viscera full the space. With panting breath the woman turned her attention towards V who had hobbled over to see what had happened.

With an embarrassed smile on her face the woman said, “I’m so sorry you had to see that. I get targeted by demons quite often.”

V was utterly speechless as he stared at this woman who was now covered in demon blood.

She awkwardly rubbed the back of her neck and adjusted her glasses which somehow didn’t fall off in the chairs that just occurred. She dropped her metal rob and began walking away from the beast’s corpse. She turned to V who had pried his eyes away from the scene and turned to face her. He smirked as she asked, “Now... do you still want the book?”

He began limping towards her, his cane jabbing into the stone street as he caught up with her.

“Oh I never caught your name,” she remarked.

“You can call me V,” he realized.

“Pleasure to meet you, V. I’m (Y/N).”

[rarestereocats]

Milan isn't pleased to see any of this,  which is understanding considering we're the reason his owl lies dead.  But even still,  some of us pretend to feign shock over this foul murder to try and throw him off,  but it doesn't work considering we're the only people currently raiding his lair.  We try and let Industria talk him down,  but it seems she's rolling a natural 1 all across the board with her charisma lately and instead of getting us out of this mess,  she instead freely admits to Milan that we're here to kill him.  The first lesson learned today is that honesty isn't always the best course of action and we're pulled into combat as he's finally had enough of us.

As he tries to teleport Industria out of here though,  Elathera counterspells it and we're all eventually dragged to a field in the middle of nowhere to commence this battle.  It's nowhere near easy and it's clear that Milan knows exactly what he's doing as we can barely put a dent in this guy.  Even when I finally get to smack him around a bit,  he teleports away and we're unable to track him down this time.  While we go back and forth on what to do,  we eventually decide that we should retreat ourselves because there's no way we're going to be able to brute force this situation like we have with mostly everything else.

So we split the party to make it harder for him to take us all out.  Industria,  Lucky,  and Jordeira head to Elathera's plane where they quietly accept that all we can do right now is wait around.  Elathera,  me,  and Rikius head on over to her mage tower where Elathera goes to spy on her boyfriend yet again and I go through the journal I nabbed from Milan's room.  I find a page with information on Virhea,  saying that upon her failure in the war she's trying to start,  she will be dragged into an eventual conversion.  We're also mentioned,  stating that we're to be left alive to motivate her,  so I assume that despite every enemy telling us so far that she's going to kill us;  that she doesn't want us dead at all.  Religion is also mentioned dismissively in here,  so I'm starting to wonder if Milan is trying to eradicate religion as a whole,  but when I relay this information to the rest of the party,  Industria's thinking he wants his own religion to wield as a weapon for power.

Either way,  we come up with a plan to keep Milan out of our hair while we try and figure out what he's up to.  We're going to send Virhea after him,  so our plan is to fake Industria's death and frame it on him;  letting her know of the news and hoping she takes the bait.  We now finally have a use for one of the corpses of herself Industria's held onto and as she goes under the disguise of her daughter,  we alert the Order of the Oracle's Eye.  Being Industria's cult...I mean,  kindly followers who totally have no cult affiliation;  they'll obviously be the best choice to get the word out about this unfortunate and tragic event.  Elathera sends a mind texts Virhea to give her the deets and with that,  we all have to pretend to be as distraught as possible.  The next week is full of funeral planning and attempts to get a hold of Virhea,  and once the big day rolls around;  people come from all over to mourn for their fallen savior.

Even divine beings are attending,  all of them in disguise or hiding as they witness the affair.  As a cleric rings in the ceremony,  I slip the mask on to go and search for Virhea,  but all I find is Iolond (who I almost managed to startle) and a couple of her feathers.  While I don't spot her anywhere,  it's more than obvious she was here.  After heading back to the group,  I give a heartfelt speech to my fallen friend,  telling everyone how much I loved her and how she always showed me the love a mother should and it's all very touching.  And maybe taking this mock death too far,  but what is the point of holding this funeral if I can't emotionally gush about my friend?  Once the ceremony is over and everybody files off to head home or to the garden party they're throwing in Industria's honor,  the rest of us head back to Elathera's home to try and check on Virhea yet again.

This time,  the scry goes through and we see her storming up to the griffin statue and slipping inside,  quickly jotting something down and leaving it on the desk for Milan.  When Industria and Elathera go to teleport and check the note out after Virhea leaves,  all it says is;  "How could you do this?  She was my responsibility and you'll pay for this.".  With the gears set in motion,  we decide to split the party yet again (listen,  it's actually been working for us lately!).  Me and Elathera will handle recon and keep an eye on Milan and possibly Virhea should she catch up with him soon enough,  and Industria and the others will handle investigating his lair.  Our first attempt at recon fails miserably as Elathera teleports us too close to Milan and we're caught by his fear aura,  making us teleport away in panic.

While Elathera goes to hide in a closet,  I go to flee from the plane manor,  but not before getting caught by Industria,  who proceeds to slap me.  In my moment of pure,  unfiltered fear,  that triggers my good ol' Childhood Trauma and only makes me panic further.  Even after Rikius gets the fear effect off of me,  I'm still rattled and skittish towards my friend and no amount of her profuse apologies and hugs will help calm me down.  She offers to erase it from my memories,  but not wanting my memories to be tampered with,  me and Elathera get back to our recon duties.  We follow Milan around for the day,  watching him tuck what looks like an important gem away in a hidden compartment.  We decide to do nothing with it considering our job was to keep an eye on him and we follow him to the black market,  which he seems to frequent a lot.

It's clear why he does when this black market seems to be chock full of phylacteries,  unbeknownst to most of the sellers.  He purchases a necklace being used as a phylactery for some unknown lich somewhere in the world and with that,  we decide to head back to his house to pilfer the gem.  But while we were away,  Industria and her team moved through,  finding the compartment and swiping the gem,  leaving one of the heartstones from Etna in its place.  So me and Elathera are led to believe we're about to make off with powerful artifact,  Elathera making her own copy before we leave;  only this one blows up!  When we all meet back up and have a good chuckle over the gem mishap,  we teleport into a room we didn't investigate thoroughly enough,  but surprise;  we forget to go invisible and Milan's new owl is here keeping watch.

We pay it no mind and carry on,  stumbling upon a room full of former nightmare gems,  now seemingly dull and dead.  There's a magic circle on the floor,  something with transmutation magic and upon Industria playing around with it,  we realize it's to swap souls between things.  Before we can do anything else though,  Milan's alerted to our presence and appears before us,  casting an icy prison and trapping the majority of us.  It's in this moment that we realize we're all gonna die probably,  but with enough panic on my part,  I manage to talk him down enough so we can chat with him before he destroys us.  Elathera frees us of the icy prison and I let the others know over our mind link that I'm about to do something incredibly stupid.  If I don't do it,  we risk fighting him again and losing as he's too powerful,  that becoming more than obvious when he relents and tells us what he had been up to.

He's been forming the lich cult as a way to gather powerful souls,  which he then traps in the gems and then uses the circle to transfer them to his own body;  consuming them to steadily grow in his own power.  With that,  I admit to him that I'm a phylactery,  which he confirms upon inspecting me.  I ask him to remove Lucky's fragment from me,  feigning that it's a burden on me,  and he offers to do so as long as we promise to leave him alone after this.  I give him that promise and try to lure him into the circle with me,  but instead,  he slaps a gem in my head and has me go in alone.  I think my plan is about to go out the window,  so I have a mock breakdown which manages to convince him to step in with me and with that,  my trap is in place.  Elathera freezes time so I can leave the circle,  leaving nothing but the gem in my stead.

With time unfrozen and me safe,  Industria yells the command word and Milan screams in agony as him and all his souls are pulled into the gem,  thus trapping him.  We'll have to keep his gem locked up tight in a vault somewhere,  but the threat of Milan is gone and now we can pretend Industria was totally resurrected from the dead so that she can finally be out in public again as herself.

[musicfeedsmysoul12]

Haven Raised Chapter 2

Summary: Harry's life is completely changed when his aunt and uncle are forced to take him to a funeral at a relatives. Now being raised by Primrose Evans, her sister Grace and the citizens of Havenfall, his life is going to be a roller coaster.

Beta again is @anastasian-dreamer

On AO3

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Last Week of August 2011

“I have never seen so much paperwork, ever,” Grace said as she stared at the pile of paperwork on the kitchen table. Prim sighed as she tugged her hair into a bun on top of her head.

“Well, this paperwork is from the Goblins regarding Harry’s estate. Apparently, the Dursleys had burned all papers from them which probably was a good thing if you think about it.” The angry look on Grace’s face said she completely understood. It was even worse when you took in the fact they apparently burned Harry’s birth certificate because it had his name written Hari James Potter.

Harry was quietly playing with some of the toys they had gotten him, and the look on his face made Prim so happy and so angry at the same time.

Anger seemed to be a staple though. A lot of anger directed towards the Dursley family.

“How much is it?”

“Well given the… circumstances of Harry’s fame in the Wizarding World-”

“That Warder was hilarious. Did you see his face? Lucky his boss was here and caught him with that spell.” Grace snickered. Getting their electronics warded had taken little time, but the hard part was when the person doing the warding had recognized Harry and freaked. His boss was with him though- doing evaluations apparently- and had hit him with a spell that stopped him from saying where Harry was for their safety.

“Quite, but don’t interrupt Grace.” Prim scolded lightly. “With the circumstances, a few people willed things to Harry and some have even sent fan mail. There is a vault filled with the stuff.”

“...What?” Harry and Grace asked trading looks. Prim nodded, feeling highly amused at the very confused faces the two had.

“Yes, and I did draft up a proper thank you note for all who sent it, and the Goblins agreed to send copies for us,” Prim said as she grabbed said draft to hand it to Harry who took it quietly and looked it over.

“It sounds funny,” he said. Grace read it over his shoulder and snorted.

“It sounds like how you write Prim.” Prim rolled her eyes.

“Well, it should. It’s very proper to write it like that.”

“Yeah, well hopefully they do understand you wrote it and not Harry so he isn’t asked why his own writing isn’t so proper,” Grace said. Prim rolled her eyes at Grace who snickered.

“Would they?” Harry asked in a small voice.

“No, Grace is being a pest,” Prim said dryly. “Ignore her.”

“Rude.” Grace teased before she ruffled Harry’s hair. “I’m going to bike to work! You have the afternoon shift yeah?”

“Yes I do,” Prim said. Typically she worked every day but the shifts themselves would change. Given it was the last week before school she would be working mostly evenings or afternoons so she could help with the teenagers coming in for their last few nights of freedom.

“...” Grace hesitated and Prim looked up from the papers she had picked up.

“Grace?”

“I… have some plans with Mike? The guy who works as a waiter at the diner?” Prim purposely pulled her glasses down a bit to look over them. Grace snorted. “Not like that! Mike’s… Mike’s gay and having a hard time with his parents about it. He just wants to hang out.”

“Understandable, have fun then,” Prim said. Grace’s eyes flashed to Harry but Prim waved her off. Razi truly didn’t mind when Harry came to the alley and while it would be a late night, Razi had offered to let Harry sleep for a while in his office one afternoon so it should be alright.

Harry quietly went back to playing while Prim flipped through the various papers. Most just talked about what kind of finances Harry had, how much Prim would receive a month for taking care of Harry- which was a fair bit honestly. Galleons changed into USD was a very nice rate. One galleon was worth ten dollars and Prim was still startled by that amount- though most of the money did go to Harry and his upkeep.

But the other stuff was the worst. Apparently many people had been making money off of Harry’s name and while the Goblins did take a cut, they had also offered a lawyer to stop the more… disturbing pieces of merchandise. Which Prim eagerly accepted the help of, agreeing to let the Goblins keep the majority of the settlement in her letters.

She never wanted to look at that thing again.

“Alright, onto the Black family…” Prim muttered, finishing some of the paperwork. Opening the file for the Black family, she stopped.

The Black Family Seat is owned by Hari Potter. Black Family Seat in use by Lucius Malfoy.

That… did not seem right. Prim grabbed the large book she used to communicate with the goblins- one that was linked between two books and kind of worked like a texting app honestly.

Is it correct that the Malfoy family is able to use Harry’s seat without authorization from his guardians? I do not see any authorization in the file.

Nor did she expect it given the Dursley family and their burning of the goblin letters.

No, was the response. Would you like us to deal with this?

Yes, please.

It was the only response she could give. The idea of someone apparently using a seat- which sounded like a government thing- that belonged to an orphan child without permission… it made her angry. It was theft. It was disgusting.

I ask you to make them bleed, please.

A pleasure doing business, Miss Evans.

Going to work that night was simple enough. They ate sandwiches at home and Harry brought a new book with him and some toys so he could play quietly.

It was when they got there things were different. A large black motorbike was parked in front of the alley, which was confusing to Prim. No one in Havenfall owned a motorcycle as far as she knew.

Harry stared at it in awe.

“That’s so cool!” he said. Prim chuckled.

“I am glad you think so, though I ask you not get a bike until you move out for the sake of my poor heart,” Prim said. Harry giggled and she marked it as a success in her relationship with him. She got out of the truck to adjust her work clothing. A bright blue bowling shirt and jeans, along with a pair of thick-soled boots. She liked boots and tended to prefer them over most other footwear.

Opening the bowling alley door she was surprised to see a person wearing a leather jacket and with yellow and orange hair at the bar, scowling.

“Prim!” Razi called out. “I want you to meet your new coworker!” Prim smiled then, leading Harry into the alley.

“Pleasure to meet you,” she said to the person who raised an eyebrow at her. “I’m Primrose Evans, but most call me Prim.”

“For that prim and proper attitude?” asked the person sarcastically.

“Actually the attitude is because of the name,” she responded. The person snorted at that and offered their hand which she shook.

“Jordan Davies, call me JD.” They said. “Pronouns are they/them.”

“Pronouns?” Harry asked at that. Prim smiled at him.

“Well you see Harry there aren’t just boys and girls in this world,” she told him. “And they don’t all use similar pronouns.” Harry frowned. “Sweetie?”

“Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia…” he trailed off and Prim crouched down to smile at him.

“Are horrible people who are very wrong, sweetie.” Harry frowned and looked down and Prim reached out to gentle ruffle his hair, causing the wide and shocked eyes again.

“What about boys liking other boys or girls liking girls?” he asked and Prim smiled softly at him.

“That’s completely normal and if they said it wasn’t they’re wrong again, honey,” Prim promised Harry who looked overwhelmed. “Need to go read?” He nodded and Prim stood up, letting him head over to the couch in the alley.

“Cute kid. He yours?” JD asked, voice cautious.

“He’s a cousin of mine but yes, he’s mine in every way that matters. His former guardians… weren’t appropriate.” Prim said. “Hence why I am the one currently taking care of him.” JD nodded, their eyes a little knowing.

“He’s a good kid,” Razi said. “So, Prim, ready to train JD?” Prim nodded while JD groaned deep in their throat.

“Of course. Do they need to change into their uniform?” JD made a horrified face while Razi snorted out a laugh.

“They will get one, I just don’t have one ready currently.” Prim nodded and then smiled at JD.

“Well then, let’s begin shall we JD?” Prim asked. JD just gave her a weirded out look. “Pardon?”

“Do you ever drop the prim attitude?”

“Never,” was the cheerful response as Prim began the task of teaching JD the ropes around the bowling alley.

She quickly grew very annoyed.

“Your comments are very UN-appreciated,” she said, emphasizing the un part of her sentence.

“And?” JD asked with a smirk. Prim gave them a look they rolled their eyes at and she gritted her teeth.

She could handle it but the comments about her mannerisms and the complaints about the work…

Those were annoying.

The door to the alley opened and in marched the Sheriff who looked tired as she looked around. Harry looked up from his book to give a shy smile at Mackenzie Hunt. The short-haired blonde gave him a smile back before her face went serious.

“Razi, where is our newest member of Havenfall?” she asked and Prim blinked, looking to JD who scowled in annoyance.

Why did they have a cop looking for them?

“Jordan Davies,” Mackenzie said, spotting them. She crossed her arms. “I understand you caused some problems in Jersey.” JD scowled and Prim decided to carefully back away.

She did not need to get involved in that.

-0-

 “You excited for school?” Razi asked Harry a few days later as Prim covered a morning shift while JD promised to cover the evening one.

“Dunno,” Harry said with a shrug. He played with one of his action figures. “... Auntie Prim says I can do my best.” Razi nodded.

“Yeah. School’s important kiddo. I bet she’s excited at the idea of you doing good?” Harry nodded, looking surprised at the notion. Razi gave the kid a grin.

“Good people typically are,” said JD as they came into the alley. Razi raised an eyebrow at them. “What?”

“I thought you were out until this evening?”

“Nah, just didn’t want to work this morning. Prim doesn’t mind.” JD pointed out and Razi had to agree. Prim was a hard worker who just wanted to do her best. “So, squirt! You planning any pranks?”

“Huh?” Harry asked as Prim came up to the bar.

“Do not corrupt him,” Prim told JD.

“Come on! Pranks are an essential part of school!” JD complained.

“High school, not elementary,” Prim responded. JD grinned then.

“So I can teach him to prank in high school?” Prim propped an arm on the bar counter and gave them a look.

“No.,” she said simply before ruffling Harry’s hair. “Just do your best love.”

“Trying to talk like the English Prim?” JD asked sarcastically.

“I think we have a cute enough English accent here,” Prim responded, smiling at Harry who blushed but hesitantly smiled back.

“Gah,” JD made a face. “I’m going upstairs until my shift.”

“Good,” Prim muttered before she went back to work.

“...she just broke her attitude!” JD said with a grin. Harry gave them a look. “What?”

“Stop being mean,” Harry said. “Auntie Prim just talks like that around other people. It isn’t bad.”

“Kid’s got a point,” Razi said. JD just scowled. “Look, I agreed to let you bunk here because of your dad. You cause problems you’re out though. And you know what that means.”

JD scowled and stomped off, passing by Prim who ignored them. They didn’t say anything.

September 2011

“Have a good day, okay?” Prim said to Harry, leaning down and giving him a kiss on his forehead. “Listen to your teachers, tell me if anyone is mean and do your very best.” Harry nodded but hesitated before he went into the classroom.

“...Auntie. If I don’t like it…”

“You can call me,” Prim promised. “Ask a teacher and call me and I promise I will always come and get you.” Harry smiled at her before he entered the classroom, leaving her to watch.

“The first day always sucks,” a voice said from behind her. She turned to see an older woman smiling behind her. “He your brother?”

“He’s my cousin. He’s living with me currently.” That was the only information she gave. By the look in the woman’s eyes, she knew who she was now.

“Ah, you’re the woman, everyone, gossips about.” She said. She offered her hand. “Erin Summers, I moved here recently with my husband.”

“You have heard of me so quickly?” Prim asked in amusement. Erin shrugged.

“Luce seems to like her gossip. The mailman is defending you though as are some others. Apparently, you proved yourself with stepping in to take care of your cousin.” Erin said. Prim withheld her sniff. So this impresses them after years of dislike for no true reason?

Pathetic.

“Have you considered getting a therapist for Harry?” Erin asked. Prim frowned, looking at her.

“I must admit I don’t know what you mean.”

“A therapist for… his past home life,” Erin said slowly. Prim hesitated and looked away.

“I haven’t.” She admitted. “I… suppose I simply haven’t thought of it.”

“They can be expensive,” Erin admitted. She hesitated for a second. “How about a companion animal?”

“I… well, I haven’t seen anything that requires it I suppose,” Prim said. Erin nodded but pulled out a business card to give to her.

“My husband is a veteran. He has a very nice companion terrier he adores. This is where we got him from if you ever think about getting one for Harry.” Prim nodded, taking the card before Erin left, Prim hesitating a moment before she copied her, heading out to her truck. She had the day off thanks to Razi and had planned to spend the day doing laundry.

When she got home, Prim noticed the letter in the mailbox she had set up in the kitchen right away. She was somewhat surprised, having not expected any mail from the wizarding world that day- her dealings with the goblins were completed and now she was just waiting for them to contact her back about that business with the Malfoy family and what they were being fined- if they were being fined at all.

Taking the letter out, she was surprised to see it was from a man named Remus Lupin and addressed to her.

She started a pot of coffee and opened the thick letter.

Dear Primrose Evans,

I remember Lily talking about you a little. Not too much, but she did mention her cousin. She was upset that you never stayed in the contract but understood how hard it is to lose parents.

I believe I should be upfront about why I am not allowed to be in contact with Harry and why I am not allowed to leave the country. I am a werewolf and as such there are many restrictions on me. I understand if you do not wish for me to keep in contact, but I have sent pictures with this letter for you to give to Harry.

-Remus Lupin

Prim sniffed.

“Like hell, I’d hate someone just because of a condition they have,” she muttered to herself. She looked at the various pictures within the letter, seeing many of Lily and a dark-skinned man she assumed was James, though just as many as a younger looking version of the man with three other boys. The pictures were all moving, surprising her, but she just sighed.

“Magic,” she muttered, looking at some of the photos and frowning. What were they wearing… it looked like traditional Indian garb but… “Google time.” she decided, grabbing her phone and looking up what the clothing styles were called.

It was an interesting way to spend her morning.

-0-

“We’re gonna have to figure out how to explain the moving photos,” Grace said, looking at the various photos Prim had set up around the living room. Harry was staring at one where his parents were waving at him and holding the baby version of himself.

“Oh, apparently they can hear you and they’ll freeze if you ask,” Prim responded. “Expecting a lot of company?”

“Nah, but Harry might get some friends.” Harry shrugged at that. “How was school anyway?”

“People stared.” was his only response. Prim and Grace traded looks and Prim thought about the card in her pocket the rest of the evening.

Third Week of September 2011

“I’m going to admit I have no idea what that means,” said Prim as she studied the English worksheet Harry had on the bar counter. “Razi, do you know what this means?” Razi looked at it but then gave her a very confused look.

“I have no idea.”

“Aren’t adults supposed to know this?” Harry asked in confusion.

“I remember nothing of my grade three English class at all,” Prim replied. Harry made a face. “It is weird they expect you to know… this.” JD looked over at it then from where they were washing dishes, forced into the bowling alley shirt.

“You’re learning onomatopoeia?” JD asked. “That's when the word is associated with the sound it makes. Like, tick-tock or cuckoo.” They noticed the looks then. “What? I know stuff!”

“How are you so good at English?” Prim asked while Razi just chuckled at their face.

“It’s not that hard,” JD muttered.

“What next will we discover about you? Perhaps you know random flower meanings?” Prim asked. JD simply stared at her in silence. “You’re lying.”

“I don’t know meanings but I know flowers like the gladiolus flower. Kinda looks like a sword.” JD said. Prim threw her hands up.

“I’m leaving to a place that makes sense. Though if you help Harry with homework I will bake you a batch of cookies.”

“Sold.” JD agreed.

October 2011

“Do you fancy the place up for Halloween?” JD asked Razi, who was doing some accounting work.

“Usually just a pumpkin or the such, why?” Razi asked. JD grinned. “Nothing to tacky.”

“This is basically a disco bowling alley. Tacky is all it is.” JD shot back, as Prim walked into the alley, dressed in her normal work clothing along with a grey coat and white toque with a pompom on top. “Sup Prim?” JD called out. The relationship between the two had cooled down after JD started helping Harry with his homework almost daily at the alley. Prim was excellent with math, Razi was pretty knowledgeable about social studies and history while JD rocked at the English and art part. Harry was doing very well, something all of them were pleased with.

“Not much,” Prim responded. She removed her coat and hat, placing them behind the bar. “What is the plan for today?”

“No parties were booked so it's just another day,” Razi replied. “JD was talking about Halloween decorations but I know you were planning on taking the day off…”

“Oh yeah! What's Harry going to go as?” JD asked with a grin. Prim hesitated. “What? Doesn't he have an idea?”

“No… it is… Harry truly only recently learned that Halloween was the day his parents were murdered. He's not really up to dressing up.” Prim admitted. JD swore under their breath while Razi hissed.

“His relatives never said?” Razi asked. Prim dropped her prim and proper act to make a face. JD felt very unfavorable to the unknown relatives at that. “Is he doing okay?”

“As well as he can,” Prim responded. “We’re going to light a candle and look through some of the photos we got from an old family friend. Have a little candy I suppose but… we’re not celebrating.” She gave a smile that looked a little too brittle before heading to the back stockroom, not wishing to be more social at that moment.

“Who the fuck were his relatives?” JD demanded in anger. Razi scowled.

“They were abusive and got tossed into jail. Their own kid they had was put into the system I heard- his aunt was considered unsuitable.” Razi seemed satisfied by something and JD squinted at him.

“What did you do?” Razi just smirked. “No fair, not telling me.” Razi opened his mouth but Prim came out then, carrying a list.

“We’re missing a few parts of the shipment.” She said. Razi sighed as he took the list and JD pouted, knowing they wouldn't get an answer from him for a while.

Last Week of October 2011

Prim ran into the school, dressed in her uniform but without her normal jacket or any of her normal behavior.

“Where's Harry?” She asked the secretary at the front, looking terrified. Said secretary pointed at a room off to the side, looking sympathetic as Prim ran to the room, opening it to find Harry on a small bed, passed out. The school counselor was there along with a man in a white lab coat and red sunglasses. “Harry?”

“Are you Primrose Evans?” asked the man. Prim blinked and quickly wiped her eyes before taking a breath and turning to him.

“Yes, I am. How do you do?” She asked politely. The man nodded.

“Well, thank you.” Prim looked at Harry again in fear and the man continued. “I'm Dr. Escalona. They called me in when he passed out.” Left out was the fact there was no nurse given it was a small school and most of the time it was a simple band-aid needed or they could call the hospital.

“Thank you,” Prim said. “Is he okay?”

“He's doing alright. From what I understand a few of the students accidentally caused a panic attack. The teacher did not handle it properly and it lead to Harry passing out.” Dr. Escalona said. Prim’s hands clenched as the councilor spoke up next.

“We already informed the teacher of what went wrong and the boys… were punished.” She looked uncomfortable as she spoke. “They thought it funny.”

“He's being bullied?” Prim demanded, eyes wide. She hadn't known that.

“It's the typical boy thing-”

“No, it isn't!” Said, Prim. “This isn't a typical thing. It's gross and abusive for kids to treat other kids like crap! Saying boys will be boys is just enabling the problem!” The counselor scowled but the doctor spoke up then.

“I agree with Miss Evans. I've seen too many cases of bullying being brushed off like this. One lead to the bullying becoming deadly. It's not typical.” He said firmly. The counselor scowled while another voice spoke.

“I agree.” An older man came into the room, dressed in a suit.

“Mr. Jameson!” Said the counselor. Prim recognized him as the principal.

“Mrs. Galloway, I was informed various cases of bullying are going unreported thanks to you. I will be looking into those cases myself now.” The man said. The counselor went red but Prim didn't take the moment to bask in it as Harry began to stir.

“Harry! Sweetie?” She asked, going over to kneel down by his cot. He woke up sluggishly, blinking.

“... Mama?” He muttered, starting Prim slightly as the doctor reached out to pull her away gently. She stood up and let him check Harry over, the ou blinking in confusion.

“He's alright. No concussion or anything.” Dr. Escalona said. His glasses have been pushed up and Prim noticed they were red as she looked at him. Maybe he had contacts in?

“Thank you.” Said Prim. She moved to sit in the cot, hugging Harry. “Oh, sweetie. When I got the call I panicked! I was so worried for you.”

“... thought I was tougher.” Harry muttered. “Uncle Vernon-”

“Uncle Vernon was a snake and a liar Harry,” Prim said firmly.

“But the other kids-”

“Were wrong. They're nothing but bullies Harry.” Prim promised.

“She's right.” The doctor said, crouching down to look Harry in the face. “Those kids are wrong. Being tough isn't about keeping quiet when you're being targeted. It's about being able to say: this isn't right. It's about knowing when you need help.” Harry looked down, not wanting to look the doctor in the face.

“Thank you, Dr. Escalona.” Said Prim with a smile. Harry piped up after, a little softer.

“Yeah thank you, Dr. Es… Es…” he frowned and the doctor chuckled.

“You can call me Dr. Diego.” He said the Harry, standing up.

After a few more minutes of discussion, Diego grabbed Prim’s elbow softly when she was about to leave with Harry.

“Miss Evans? Can we chat for a moment?” He asked. Prim placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder.

“If we’re discussing Harry- Harry would you like to stay here and listen?” Prim asked. Harry shrugged, looking at his feet. Prim looked at Diego and waited. He took it in stride.

“From the reports of the teacher Harry has had minor panic attacks before- not that she recognized them until now. Is he… I'm new in town so I'm relying on second-hand knowledge but is he going to therapy for what his… former guardians did?” Diego asked. Prim hesitated.

“No. We couldn't afford the specialized care.” She admitted. Even with the money she got, there wouldn't be enough for Harry to gain the help he needed. Diego frowned.

“I see.” He said softly. “... have you considered a companion animal like a dog?” Harry flinched at that.

“Aunt Marge’s dogs were mean.” He said softly and Prim squeezed his shoulder.

“I… believe we may have some thinking to do.” She said to Diego who nodded his head.

“May I have your address? I would like to do a check up on him tonight.”

“Don't you have work?” Harry suddenly asked Prim, looking shocked. “Ma- Auntie Prim, you can't-”

“Razi gave me the rest of the day off paid. He's worried about you, too, love.” Prim replied, smoothing back Harry’s hair. “Tomorrow you're coming with me and he'll probably mother hen you while JD hovers. Or offers to teach you pranks.”

“Razi?” Diego asked. “Oh, I should have recognized the shirt.”

“You know Razi?” Prim asked.

“He's an old friend,” Diego replied. “Address?” He requested and Prim gave him it, leading Harry out to the truck. He fell asleep on the way home, exhausted from his panic attack and his day. She ended up carrying him up to his room- painted green with a stenciled forest covering the walls after he admitted to liking nature.

She went back downstairs to find the card she had been given on his first day of school. She had some people to call.

October 30, 2011

Harry sat in the truck, holding onto his seat belt tightly. He was terrified and it showed as Prim drove them to the small farm. Communicating with the goblins had them sending her a little extra to get a permit and even the address of a magical animal farm… which turned out to be the place she was given anyway much to her amusement.

“You don't have to pick a dog Hary,” Prim promised him, looking at him through the rearview mirror. “There's cats and owls and other animals.” Owls were still strange pets to her but if he wanted one…

“Yeah, Harry! It's gonna be great!” Grace said with a grin, turning around to smile at him. Prim only wished it wasn't happening the day before Halloween. But maybe it would take his mind off of everything.

Parking in front of the farm, Prim was helping Harry get out of the truck when a large black puppy came out of nowhere to jump on Harry and begin licking his face.

“Harry!” Prim shouted as a young woman came barreling from around the side of the farm.

“Crap! I'm sorry Miss-” the woman began but delighted laughter stopped her. Harry was laughing and giggling as the dog licked his face. He seemed so happy.

“Guess we’re getting a dog after all,” Grace said smiling.

-0-

“So you don't know what type he is?” Prim asked in curiosity. The owner of the farm- a woman named Elizabeth Scamander- shook her head.

“Unfortunately no. My grandfather was an avid magizoologist with many ideas and thoughts but he never wrote about this type of dog.” She replied. “He's a hybrid with a husky but we don't know what the magical part of him is- other then he sets things on fire and can teleport.”

“... how often does he set things on fire?” Prim asked.

“Not too much anymore. Do you have a fireplace?”

“No… though we have had bonfires in our backyard before.” Said Prim.

“Maybe set one up so he can have fun.” Elizabeth pushed a pile of paperwork forward and Prim began signing it. “What will ya name him a kid?”

“Spot! Like how Hades named Cerberus in his myth!” Said Harry happily and Prim shared a grin with Grace. That was too cute.

Second Week of November 2011

“Good afternoon Diego,” Prim said with a nod as the doctor came into the alley. He always came in every day for a drink. Prim had been a little weirded out at first but she figured it was probably just so he could catch up with Razi. The two seemed very close.

After a week of calling him Dr. Escalona, she had finally been told to call him Diego, something she took to with dignity.

“Auntie Prim!” Harry shouted, suddenly running into the alley. Grace walked in after him, having gotten Mike to drive the two to the alley after school. “I got an A!”

“What?” Prim shouted in glee, dropping down to hug Harry who hugged right back. “On your science test? That's wonderful sweetie!!” She took the test and grinned at it, feeling incredibly proud as Harry went to the bar to thank Razi for his help with homework.

“Proud of you kid,” Razi laughed. “How about some ice cream to celebrate?” Harry turned to call out to Prim, excitement in his voice.

“Mama! Can I?” Prim nearly froze but instead, she pressed on.

“Of course!” She grinned wildly and walked up to him, laying a kiss on his forehead as Grace grinned at the door.

“Can I get some to Prim?” Prim waved a hand and Grace went off to get some ice cream.

No one mentioned the Mama thing. They all just traded quiet smiles and continued with their work, Diego getting his usual drink.

“And me and Spot found a frog!” Harry said excitedly to JD who was also at the bar, dressed in uniform but said uniform was covered in buttons. “It was sleeping so we didn't dig it up but it was so cool! How many animals live in the forest?”

“Probably mostly squirrels and rabbits. Maybe a deer or two.” Said JD. They were smiling though. Harry had that way about himself you just had to smile around him sometimes.

Mackenzie Hunt came in then, looking annoyed. “Davies!”

“Oh shit, it's the fuzz!” JD said jokingly. Prim gave them a nasty look.

“Don't swear around my kid please.”

“Why do I have three different complaints about someone spray painting ‘we like to gossip about kids’ on their garage doors?” Mackenzie demanded.

“Dunno, guess they were gossiping about a kid or something.” Prim blinked, looking at JD surprised as the punk refused to look at her or Harry who looks mostly ignorant, to busy staring at Mackenzie.

“You arrested my uncle.” He said in an awed tone. Prim had to hold back her unlady like short while Grace just cackled. While Mackenzie had arrested Vernon Dursley a few months back and while she had been around the alley- mostly to yell at JD, Harry hadn't really seen her much as he was often in the office doing homework or sleeping. It was the first time he had seen her since that day, and he looked awestruck.

Mackenzie coughed a little, looking embarrassed but pleased.

“Of course I did kid, he deserved it.” She said to Harry and the boy smiled wide.

“Do you often arrest people like him?” Harry asked. “It was so cool seeing you do your job!! I've never seen any of the cops arrest Vernon before!”

“What do you mean?” Mackenzie asked in worry. Harry continued, blissfully unaware of the atmosphere around him.

“Uncle Vernon got visited some by cops. But they all seemed to think he was in the right? I dunno. He gave some money and mentioned he was glad that they could be sent to him all the time?” Harry shrugged and Prim could swear Mackenzie let loose a growl at that, but it had to be some sort of wishful thinking. After all, she wanted to growl some to!

“I wish I had connections to the British police service.” Mackenzie said in an angry voice before she plastered on a smile and answered a previous question. “Luckily, we don't get his type of person a lot here. We mostly have people like Davies.” That got her attention back to JD. The punk just grinned.

“They deserved it, I would say, if I had, in any way at all, done the deed,” they said in a chipper voice. Mackenzie just sighed.

“You know technically it can be a felony charge.” Mackenzie said. JD snorted.

“If it causes extreme damage to valuable property yes.” They smirked and Mackenzie sighed again.

“Why am I not surprised you know that. I suppose if I asked you would claim to have no spray paint cans anywhere?” She asked Razi.

“Spray paint is bad for the environment.” He responded. Mackenzie shook her head.

“Alright. I'll say it was unknown. Don't do it again.” She told JD who looked offended.

“How dare you accuse me! I'm hurt Mackenzie!”

“Wounded even?” Grace asked then and Prim sighed.

“Enough with the references you two.” She said as JD exclaimed,

“Hurt Mackenzie!”

“I'm banning that movie.”

“But I like it!” Harry said, looking up with big puppy eyes and Prim groaned.

“Very well then, you may continue watching it.”

“Thanks, Mama!” Harry said with a grin only to freeze, eyes widening. Prim didn't let him think on it, instead kissing his forehead and smiling.

“Welcome sweetie.”

December 2011

Harry frowned as he propped his chin onto his hands, staring at the bar counter top.

“Ah, I know that look,” Diego said from beside Harry. The doctor didn't often chat with Harry but he did at times help him with homework when it was science related or would offer advice at other times. “What's wrong?”

“I don't know what to make Mama and Auntie Grace for Christmas,” Harry admitted. He had taken to calling Prim Mama like nothing else. He adored her and she adored him. Everyone saw it.

“That is a dilemma.” Said Razi from his place behind the counter. Harry looked up at Razi with big eyes and felt his cheeks flush a little as Razi hummed. “What does your mama like?”

Harry did not mention her late-night binge watching of those documentaries she liked. She never really talked about it and got really red when Grace teased her- nice teasing. The fun kind everyone likes. Harry liked nice teasing. “She likes boots. And coffee. And cooking.” Harry said. “Auntie Grace likes cute stuff.”

“How about a mug then?” Razi asked. “You could paint a coffee mug here and hide it from your mama and… make a really cute one for your aunt?” Harry brightened up.

“Yeah!!! That would be great!!!” He grinned widely at Razi, so happy he was willing to give ideas to him. Razi was so cool!! Razi gave him a wink and Harry felt his cheeks warm up a little much to his confusion.

Why would he be blushing?

-0-

The great Christmas Project, as Harry called it, was only so much of a secret that Prim didn't know what it was. She knew Harry was doing something in the office for her and Grace but not what.

She let him have his fun, giggling with Grace about it.

“He's doing well,” Mackenzie said to Prim with a smile. “You've been great for him.”

“I try,” Prim responded. Mackenzie clapped her on her shoulder.

“Well, you're succeeding.” She told her honestly. “Has he asked about any more police stuff?”

“Somewhat. He heard about police dogs and is obsessed. He loves animals now that he has Spot.”

“Did he name the dog?” Mackenzie asked curiously as Prim handed her a water. Mackenzie was apparently friends with Diego and Razi and had shown up near the bowling alley closing for some get together they had planned. Prim was happy to chat while JD cleaned the arcade area. Much to their displeasure and Prim’s glee.

“Yes, he did. Apparently- and I'm betting Grace found this out given it sounds like something you'd discover on Tumblr- Hades in the Greek myth named Cerberus the Greek equivalent of Spot. So Harry thinks it's funny to name Spot… Spot.”

“It is kinda funny,” said Mackenzie with a grin. Prim chuckled and nodded her agreement as Harry came out of the office with a small bit of paint on his nose. She had no idea how it ended up there.

“Hi Sheriff! Hi Dr. Diego!” Harry said happily. “Mama! Razi said you guys are having a Christmas party!” He looked extremely excited and Prim had to raise an eyebrow at the shine in his eyes as he looked at Razi. She withheld her chuckle.

Oh, that was too good.

“We are! It's next week, honey, and you're completely invited.” Prim told her son with a smile.

“Awesome!” Harry cheered. “Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia always locked me in my cupboard when they had parties.” Prim kept her smile on her face even as she mentally grumbled that there went her happy mood.

She heard a crack and looked up to see Diego dropping his glass- completely shattered. She thought she heard a loud bang as well, but when she turned her head, JD hadn’t dropped the bowling ball they were carrying. She then focused on Diego.

“Are you alright?” she asked.

“I’m fine,” Diego said, giving her a grin that looked more like a grimace. “Razi, can I…”

“First aid kit is here, you can use my office,” Razi said, pulling out a case that Diego took with a smile.

“It looks like you bled a fair amount though,” Prim couldn’t help her protest, seeing the red liquid on the shattered glass.

“Was I bad?” a very soft voice said and Prim turned her attention to her son to reassure him as Razi cleaned up. He purposely did not mention the few glasses he’d dropped in his anger himself.

-0-

 The party was just Razi, JD, Prim, Grace, Harry, and Diego- the doctor having been roped into it somehow by Razi or JD.

It was simple and sweet, and Prim had to take a picture, something everyone else agreed to do.

The said picture was soaked in a special solution to move. On repeat, Prim kissed Harry’s cheek while JD laughed at Razi and Diego smiled. Grace was laughing herself, head thrown back.

It was perfect. Made even more perfect when Harry gave her and Grace their gifts. Prim got a coffee mug claiming her the best mom ever- hand painted, while Grace got a coffee mug with a cat hand painted on it.

Another picture went up, of the two holding their mugs and kissing Harry’s cheeks.

January 2012

Prim pulled her coat tighter around herself, shivering slightly in the cold air. New York was freezing but it was where the central hub for Gringotts was in the USA and where you could speak directly with a manager from a different country. Which was what she needed to do.

Harry held her hand as they walked the streets, looking around in awe at the skyscrapers and Prim wanted to do the same but she had to focus on finding the entrance to the bank. It was in Central Park they said…

Harry tripped and she had to stop, mentally berating herself.

“Am I going to fast?” She asked him. Harry looked embarrassed but she just picked him up. He was still a little underweight- even after months spent with her. “Now, what statue are we looking for again?” She asked Harry. The boy grinned.

“Alice in Wonderland!” He said in a very happy tone. He loved that movie.

“Excellent now…” she frowned, wondering where the statue was when a voice spoke up.

“It's about three minutes that way.” They turned to see a dark haired woman in a fashionable black coat and a very nice hat. She smiled. “Didn't mean to interrupt or eavesdrop…”

“Ah, thank you,” Prim said. “We probably would have been searching all over.” She nodded at the woman. “I'm Primrose and this is my son, Harry.”

“Vanessa.” The woman said, smiling. “Having a tour of statues?”

“Yeah!” Harry said. “It's so cool!!!” The woman laughed and waved goodbye as she walked, Prim heading over to the statue as well. Once there, she tapped the plate three times and spoke out loud.

“I'm a muggle but my son is a wizard. I would like to see the bank.” With that, the statue came to life and Alice nodded before the front opened up and she and Harry walked down the stairs that lead deep into the ground.

“I love magic,” Harry said with a grin. Prim gave her own smile as they entered the bustling bank of Gringotts USA New York.

-0-

“Pleasure to see you again Brightaxe.” She said politely to the goblin who grinned at her.

“You as well Miss Evans.” He nodded to Harry. “And you heir Black.” He had met them when he had gone to the house to confirm it was, in fact, Harry that Prim was in charge of and not anyone else. He had seemed to take a liking to them.

“So it is official then?” Prim asked. “He's been claimed as heir Black and there is trouble brewing for the Malfoy family?” It had taken months for the paperwork to be put together and the proper procedure put through. Prim was eager to learn what exactly had happened.

Brightaxe smirked before slipping her a newspaper.

“Malfoy Family Stealing From The Boy-Who-Lived!” The title read. It was by a woman named Rita Skeeter and it spoke of how it had been discovered that the Malfoy claims of being the inheritors of the Black family name were wrong. Not only had they taken a Wizengamot seat but had also claimed the Board seat for Hogwarts from the Black family. Skeeter seemed pleased to tear them apart.

“All laws passed are currently suspended and all Board decisions have as well been suspended until you find a new regent Miss Evans,” Brightaxe said. “I believe Dumbledore offered?” Prim frowned.

She didn't mind Dumbledore but she was leery of placing an old man such as himself into that sort of position. Call her an idealist or millennial or what you wished but she firmly believed that anyone above a certain age had no rights playing politics. Most of them were too stuck in their beliefs and wished to keep the status quo.

“What sort of laws are there about who can hold the seats?” Asked Prim.

“That they are magical humans shaped beings,” Brightaxe replied. Prim grinned then.

“So would a werewolf be allowed?” Brightaxe’s grin copied hers.

“Indeed.”

Prim left the bank with a smirk on her face and knowing that she was going to be able to meet Remus soon enough.

Of course, she had a promise to make first and the two went to the Central Park Zoo, Harry laughing as he looked at all the animals. It was there they met Vanessa again.

“Oh! Hello!” Prim said in surprise. Vanessa looked shocked herself but covered it with a laugh.

“Nice to see you again,” Vanessa said to the two. She was adjusting her coat a little, her hat slightly askew, but Prim figured it had probably been a strong wind. “Have you seen the red pandas? They’re quite cute.”

“No! Mama, I wanna see them!” Harry said, grabbing onto her arm and prim chuckled.

“Alright, let’s go find them,” she said to Harry. Vanessa offered to help, and the three spent a nice day together, ending with Harry begging to have a photo taken to remember the day, Vanessa going pink in shock. Prim had a nice giggle over that but took the photo.

A few days later, Razi asked her if she’d seen anything odd at the zoo.

“No, nothing of note anyhow. Some people dressed odd but it is New York.” Prim replied. “Why?”

“A murder happened that day. Some guy ended up getting stabbed with a wooden stake. I’m glad you’re alright.” Razi said, his face a bit strange. But then…

“A wooden stake?” Prim asked. “That’s… strange. I’ve never heard of anything like that before, other than in vampire fiction.”

“Yeah. It is strange.” Razi said, his voice off but it was a very weird story after all.

Second Week of January 2012

Prim opened the door to reveal a wizard dressed in somewhat shabby robes.

“Hello!” She said cheerfully. “You must be Remus! Please do come in!” He came in with a smile and took her hand, holding it warmly.

“I can't thank you enough.” He said to her. “You… you've done so much for me already.”

“I gave you a job Remus. That's about it.” Prim said with a chuckle. “How is it going?”

“We officially start tomorrow on casting new votes on various laws which is why I'm here today.” A pained look was in Remus’s eyes and Prim frowned at it.

“Won't you…”

“No. It was a unanimous vote to keep werewolves from leaving Britain. It might be suspended now but it won't be for long.” Remus looked exhausted and bitter as he stood in the doorway. Prim felt horrible for the poor man as she stood there.

“Well then.” She said. “You better come and hug Harry and spend the evening with him.” She lead him to the kitchen where Harry was doing his math homework, his tongue poking out of his mouth. Remus took in a shuddering breath and Harry heard it, turning around in his chair to look. “Sweetie, this is Remus. He was a friend of your parents.”

“The one who sent us the pictures?” Harry asked.

“Yeah, yeah I am.” Remus agreed, slowly walking over to the table to sit down next to him. Prim crept out of the kitchen, a grin on her face.

She'd leave them alone for a bit.

March 2012

“I swear if there is another incident of bullying-!” Prim shouted at the counselor who scowled while Mr. Jameson also looked furious.

“There won’t be. Ms. Galloway? You’re fired.” he said. The counselor looked shocked and horrified while Prim took Harry with her out of the office, shooting angry looks at the three boys who had cornered her son and nearly broke his arm. Their parents all looked ashamed as Prim stood in front of them.

“I do not know why you dislike me. I do not know why I am hated in this town, but for you to spread this hate to your children who take it out on my SON…” Prim shook her head and stormed off.

She drove back to the alley as she had to work and couldn’t keep letting Razi give her paid time off. As well, she was aware that Razi tended to make Harry smile a lot- something she did tease him about a little.

Harry was quiet when they entered, heading for the couch to curl up with a book.

“The only good thing that happened is that counselor got fired,” Prim said to herself.

“Good,” JD said as they walked up to her. They weren’t wearing the shirt- Razi got tired of the pins and random rips said shirt had- and instead had on their jacket and tank top. “Bully is bullshit.”

“Without using the same profanity, I have to agree,” Prim said. She sighed. “It was hard enough when I was in school. I know how nasty kids can be.”

“You were bullied?” JD asked in surprise. Prim nodded.

“Yes. Primrose is a strange name after all. It’s how the prim and proper taunt started.” JD frowned.

“Prim and proper taunt?” they asked and Prim frowned. Didn’t…

“I forgot you’ve only been here for not even a year…” she trailed off, blinking in confusion before she pressed on. “It was a taunt started in elementary and well… continued. Eventually, I got back by acting prim and proper in general and thus, the taunt lost its power over me.”

“...No, it didn’t.” JD said, looking at her. Prim just gave them a look and they sighed. “...Sorry,” they muttered under their breath.

“...Did you just apologize?” she asked. JD scowled.

“Bullying is bullshit and gross,” they said. “I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories when I taunt you over your attitude.”

“You haven’t done so for a few months.” Prim pointed out. JD shrugged.

“I got used to it I guess.” Prim hummed before she gave a soft smile at JD.

“You didn’t mean to bully me- sure maybe you were mean in the beginning because you were lashing out, but you never crossed a line,” Prim said. “...I also never thought I’d ever hear you say sorry.”

“Well, this is the only time you’ll ever hear it.” JD snorted. They went off to work and Prim chuckled as she went to do some work herself.

That was nice.

July 2012

Prim frowned at the book, flipping through it in confusion. What was… that didn’t… what?

“Having trouble?” asked an accented voice. She looked to the side to see an older Indian woman dressed in colorful clothing and jewelry, a red dot in the middle of her forehead.

“A little I must admit,” Prim said, feeling slightly embarrassed. “Do you perchance own this store?” Prim asked, gesturing to the small Indian shop she was in. The woman nodded.

“Yes, I do. What brings you here?” the woman asked.

“I have recently taken charge of a relative whose father was from India. I am… not sure which part though I know in his wedding photos his wife, my cousin, was dressed in a sari though not…” Prim coughed and changed the subject, realizing she had been rambling. “I wished to learn to make some traditional foods the proper way from him for his birthday at the end of this month, hence why I am here.”

“Well then,” the woman said, sounding pleased. “Do you need help? Or a few lessons? I was going to make some pani puri for my own supper tonight. I can teach you if you wish?”

“Thank you,” Prim said honestly. “Thank you so much.” The woman waved her hand in amusement and directed her to some  She introduced herself as Chetas and Prim introduced herself as well, the two chatting together as Prim gathered the food and pans she would need.

“Harry… do you know how is spelt?” Chetas asked. Prim nodded her head in the positive.

“We managed to recover his birth certificate and it is spelled H-A-R-I, though typically he spells it the English way. From what I understand his parents wished to give him an Indian name but as well wished for him to have an English name as to prevent harassment.” Prim said. Chetas snorted.

“Harassment? If people teach their children better than none there will be.” Prim nodded her agreement to that. “Come then, I teach you and you come back to find present here for child.”

“He likes to read,” Prim said thoughtfully. She had noticed some Indian stories written in English. As well there were some books dedicated to teaching Sanskrit she thought he might like.

“Excellent, but lesson first,” Chetas said and Prim agreed, following the woman to the back of the shop where a kitchen was, the shop also being a place to sell food.

It would be a very fun lesson for both of them.

Second Week of July, 2012

Chetas showed up in Havenfall one day with a cookbook under her arm. Prim was rather surprised to see the Indian woman come into the bowling alley.

“Chetas, hello!” she said in surprise.

“Miss Evans,” said the older woman. She offered the cookbook. “For you. Found it in back of closet.” Prim blinked, taking the book from the woman.

“Thank you, ma’am, let me grab my purse to-”

“It is gift. None of my grandchildren wish to learn.” Chetas looked annoyed at that and Prim chuckled. “Where is young Hari?”

“He’s with my sister right now- she has the day off,” Prim explained. Chetas nodded before she smirked at something. Prim looked over her shoulder just to see Razi and JD. “Oh! Sorry Razi! This is the woman I was talking about, the one teaching me to cook food for Harry’s birthday.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Razi said, bowing his head. “You can put the book in my office if you want to hide it.”

“Thanks, Razi!” Prim said, going off to do so. She took a few minutes to find a good hiding spot before she came out to find Chetas leaving with a wave. She waved back with a smile, unaware of the looks being traded by JD and Razi.

July 31, 2012

“Happy birthday Harry!” Prim cheered as she put the cake in front of Harry. He grinned widely as everyone around him all sang. It was happening in the bowling alley, and Harry was just happy to have everyone around.

It was just him, Prim, Grace, Razi and JD- with a quick appearance by Mackenzie when she came in to yell at JD and offer her congratulations- but it was the best party he ever had!

A camera set up took their picture as he blew out his candles.

A year ago, a funeral was held on August first for a family that lost a grandmother, but a full year later, a birthday was held to mark a son that had gained a family.

  -0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Harry is eight when he ends up with Prim, so he’s got about three years until Hogwarts, so I’m just doing a chapter for a year. Otherwise I’ll never finish this fic. I know myself.

Now, because I know I’m going to get complaints: There is no bashing in this story but there is some unfriendliness. Yes, people may say what I have placed here as being bashing, but to me it isn’t, instead it is being unfriendly- that is I am portraying a character in a negative way. Bashing is when you take a character and ONLY give them bad traits or make them ridiculous for no reason. As it is, I can totally see the Malfoy family doing something like I have them doing so here. Why? They openly say that Lucius Malfoy hides illegal items or sells them and there is bribery mentions. It’s not that far out they would do this. Yes, it will have long reaching consequences- this isn’t a vacuum. It’s just they won’t hit until Harry goes to Hogwarts because Prim and Harry live in the USA. They won’t interact with the Malfoy family or the British Wizarding World until then.

Now tiny bits I thought of for here and want to explain:

-I adore JD but they state in the game that they hated Havenfall when they first got there. So, I made them a little angry and bitter. And given Prim is very prim and proper, they clashed. As you can see they did make up, but yeah. Not a great beginning.

-I don’t know who came up with the idea that Harry’s name on his birth certificate is Hari but I used it here. Yes, he uses the English spelling mostly due to the Dursley family and because he never knew until he saw his certificate. So kudos to whoever did it.

-Prim gets 150 galleons a month for Harry which is about 1,500 in USD. Yes, lots of money but that is for Harry and while Prim does use some for groceries for everyone it can go fast. The lawyer was given to her for free because the goblins make bank on the money from the Harry Potter name and she was willing to let them keep 60% of the settlement.

-I'm like 90% certain it's mentioned in some route that Diego hasn't been in Havenfall long. So I took creative license and made it so he just shows up here. As well- not sure how American schools do it but we didn't have a nurse at my school because we were a small town so I just went: here! Also it gives me an excuse to introduce him earlier!

[zombierunfiction]

Season 2 Side Mission 5: Top 40

The next morning Charlotte was sharpening her axe in the comms room when Sam came bounding in happily.  "Char!  Oh my god Char! You will not believe this!"  He said excitably.

Charlotte laughed.  "What has you so excited?"

"We have a mission for you that is super exciting like vault of curly wurlys exciting!"  Sam said happily as Charlotte shook her head.

"Alright then.  I'll go get ready."  Charlotte said standing up.  

"Oh and get Jody ready too.  She will want to join in too."  Sam said happily before heading for the desk.  Charlotte shook her head and walked out into the courtyard area looking for Jody.  Once she located Jody, they gathered their packs and headsets and headed out through the gate.

"Aw, man!  This is amazing!  Runner Four, Runner Five this is great!  We've got-"  Sam laughs happily.  "I can't even believe it - we've got something really exciting for you two to do today, don't we, Janine?"  Sam said happily.

"I suppose that would depend on your definition of 'exciting'."  Janine sighed softly.

"What is it that your so excited about Sam?"  Charlotte asked.

"Oh, right!  Well, we sent a scouting party into a new part of the city a couple of days ago, and they found - I can't even say it!  It's too great!  Janine, oh, Janine, tell them.  Tell them what they found."  Sam said happily.

Janine sighed heavily.  "The runners were able to locate a store that specialized in-"

"They found a CD shop! A real old fashioned CD shop!  Can you believe it?"  Sam interrupted as Charlotte laughed softly.  

Jody squealed as well.  "No!  Really?  I didn't think there were any of those left."

"That's what I said!  We're sending you out there today straight away before someone else gets in and loots it."  Sam said quickly.

"Yes, I'm sure all the other settlements in the area are putting that at the top of their lists of priorities."  Janine said sarcasticly.

"Oh, come on, Janine, don't be like that!  The way things are, I mean, it's not like it's been much of a party around here lately."  Sam said slowly.  "We could all use a little more fun right now.  Look, I bet four and Five could find you one of those classical guys you like.   Maybe Beethoven's 87th piano symphony?  Or Mozart's flute and, um, trumpet, uh, duet, in A, uh, major?"  

"When Four and Five get back from this mission, you and I are going to have a chat about your musical education, Mr. Yao."  Janine said sternly.

"Consider this a moral mission.  Music has curitive properties."  Charlotte said as Janine sighs.  

"We will see."  Janine said as they conitnued down the road.

"You heard the lady.  Runners, bring us back all the classical music you can fine.  And uh, maybe some good stuff, too, while you're at it."  Sam said with a smirk.  Soon they arrived in the shopping district that held some of the newer stores in the area."There we are.  Go past that grocery shop and turn left at those burnt-out traffic lights and you should be right there."  Sam said as they took the turn and stopped in front of a large building.

"Mega Tunes Music Emporium?"  Charlotte asked.

"Ahh, look at that!  Three whole stories of music.  It's... it's beautiful!"  Jody said as they walk inside the door shutting it behind them.  The place looked like a few people had ransacked some of it but not to the point of destruction.  Vinals were broken and thrown all over the place while racks of cassette tapes were left scattered on tables and shelves.  CD's were lined in bins along the center of the room leading to a set of stairs going up.

"Okay, right, I've got a list of requests here, for you.  Let's see, let's see... children's CDs for Ed and Molly."  Sam said as Jody started to grab CD's from the children's section while Charlotte went to Top 40.  "Uh, bit of old school David Bowie for Runner Seventeen.  But of dubstep for Runner Nine."  He listed as they moved to the next sections grabbing the CD's as they went.  "Uh... looks like Runner Three wants you to find some... ew, is that country music?  Yeah, well, we'll just wait and see if you have room in your backpacks before we get that one."

"I will find space."  Charlotte said with a smirk grabbing several country music CD's.  "Simon and I can enjoy country music while you and Runner Nine can listen to dubstep."  

"Sorry love... didn't know you liked country."  Sam said sheepishly.

"It's ok Sam.  She's not mad.  She's smiling if anything."  Jody said as Charlotte chuckled finishing the bottom floor before running up the stairs to the second floor.

"The scanners aren't showing much activity in the area, so uh, you two should be able to take as long as you like inside."  Sam said.

"What about that?"  Janine questions.

"What about what?"  Sam asked.

Charlotte and Jody got to the top of the stairs finding what looked like a cafe with some makeshift beding set up.  "There!  Near the center of the screen!"  Janine said as Charlotte scanned the room slowly looking for anything odd.

"Oh, oh no!  Runner Five, Runner Four, be careful.  Looks like someone else has got here ahead of us.  I don't think -"  Sam said as Charlotte saw movement by the counter.  "they're not moving like a zombie.  If Van Ark's guys have turned this previous CD shop into yet another secret lab, I-"

Suddenly a shout is heard as a CD case came flying towards them making Charlotte and Jody drop to the floor fast rushing to an overturned table.  "I said no autographs!"  A female voice shouted throwing the CD's at them hard.  “Yeah, there's more where that comes from, you stupid zombies!  Find someone else to chase around for a while-”

Charlotte stood up a bit holding up her arms.  “Wait, wait!  Stop!  We're alive!  We're not zombies!”  She shouted as the barrage of CD's stopped followed by a young adult woman stood up slightly from the counter area.  She looked about18 years old with dark skin and a head of braids in both blue and green streaks mixed with her natural black hair.

“What?  What are you doing?”  The woman said sounding more annoyed than angry now.  “Don't sneak up on people like that.  You scared the hell out of me!”  She said walking over.  She had on what probably was the hottest thing in stores prior to the outbreak.  She started picking up the CD's she had been tossing at them.  Charlotte and Jody slowly stepped around the table looking at the woman.  “Oh, God, you made me break those discs.  I'll have to bring more.  Are any of these CD's still in one piece?”  She said more to herself as she picked up one CD.  “This one's scratched, but if I just put the price sticker over it, maybe no one will notice.”  She said as she picked up the CD's on the floor.

“Mm... that voice.  Does it sound familiar to you, Janine?”  Sam asked.

“I have no idea what you're talking about, Mr. Yao.”  Janine said stiffly.

“No, he's right.  She does look familiar.  Don't you think so, Char?”  Jody asked as Charlotte shrugged.

“A little bit but nothing is ringing a bell.”  She said softly.

“Be that as it may, we have a mission to complete. Runners Four, Five – head to the third floor.  I believ ethat's where you'll find the classical section.”  Janine said.  

“Got it, Janine.”  Charlotte said as they headed for the second set of stairs.

��Wait!”  The young woman said standing up making Jody and Charlotte turn.  “Wait, I'm coming with you.”  She said walking over to them quickly putting the CD's into a backpack.

“You are?”  Charlotte asked oddly.

“Those headsets thingies you've got on – you've got an eye in the sky, right?”  The woman asked.

“Uh...”  Jody started looking at Charlotte unsurely.  

“Someone's watching us, telling you to look out for zombies and stuff?”  The woman said insistantly.

“Right...”  Jody said slowly.

“Then I'm coming with you!  Maybe you'll find the zombies before the zombies find me.”  The woman said seriously.

Jody looked from the woman before looking back at Charlotte.  “What do you think?”  She asked.

Charlotte looked at the young woman before nodding.  “Alright.  But try and keep up.”  She said as they ran up to the third floor.

Once up on the third floor they continued to pick up CD's as Sam speaks up.  “No, I'm telling you, she looks familiar!  Definitely saw her in... oh, maybe she was in 'I'm a Celebrity'.  How do you not see it?”

“Some of us had more important things to do with our time before the outbreak than read gossip magazines and watch reality television.”  Janine said rather gruffly.

“Mmhmm, I know, it's just bugging me now.  Ooh, ooh, Runner Five, snag a copy of that last Eurovision compilation album while you're passing through the pop section.”  Sam said as Charlotte looked around then found a copy putting it into her bag.

“That's not on the list.”  Janine said slowly.

“It's... for a friend?”  Sam deflected.

“Ew, Eurovision?”  The woman said in a disgusted tone.  “Someone really wants you to pick up that garbage?  The winning son was terrible.”

Charlotte gave her a pointed look.  “It's not that bad.”  She said as they continued to pick up CD's.

The woman scoffs.  “Even my first single was better than-”

“Oh, wait!  I know who you are!  Sam, I know who she is!”  Jody said excitably.  “You're Keisha St. Cloud!”

Keisha smirks.  “Well, yeah, obviously.”

“Wait the Keisha St. Cloud?”  Charlotte asked looking at her.

“Yes!  It really is!”  Jody said almost hoping on her toes.

“Whose Keisha St. Cloud?”  Charlotte said completely serious.

Jody suddenly gave her a flat expression before Sam began freaking out.  “Oh my God, Oh my God!  Janine, are you hearing this?”  

“I'm sure it's fascinating, Mr. Yao, to those of you who know who that is.”  Janine said boredly.

“You're joking.” Sam said before pausing for a moment.  “Uh, you're not joking.  She only had the biggest hit signle of all last summer!  Aw, you know!  You've got...”  Sam begins to sing a pop like song.  “Hey, boy, looking so shy, da da da da da'.  Oh my God, how's that next bit go?”  He questions .

Jody smiles.  “I know.”  She begis singing as well.  “Come on and text me up, whoa-oo-oo-oo-oo-oh.”  

Slowly Jody and Sam began to sing in unison.  “Yeah, you're so sweet, whoa-oo-oo-oo-oo-oh. Don't have to be shy, when we talk on the screen.”  

Suddenly Keisha paniced grabbing Jody's shoulders tight.  “Shh, shh, don't do that!  They'll hear you!”  She hissed.

“Aw but there was a dance, too, wasn't there?”  Jody asked as Keisha groaned rubbing her face.

“Aw, yeah!  Yeah, it was kinda like a shuffle to the right, like -”  Sam seemed to be demostraiting it for Janine.  “and then  a bit of a shimmy.”

“Do not dance in here, Mr. Yao, you'll knock over the-!”  Janine snapped as the sound of something falling followed.

“Stop talking to your invisible headset people and listen to me!”  Keisha hissed.  “You can't sing that song, you can't even mention that song!  They'll hear you!”  She stressed.

Jody and Charlotte looked around oddly.  “There's no one but five and me.  Who's going to hear us?”  Jody questioned.

“Come on we should get out of here now.”  Charlotte said as they started to head down the stairs.

“Mr. Yao, have you knocked any key wiring loose?”  Janine questioned.

Sam resumed his seat.  “No, I don't think so, why?”

“Then it's highly unlikely that swarm of zombies headed towards the MegaTunes is a scanner error.”  Janine said.

Charlotte stopped at the bottom of the last flight of stairs.  “I thought you said there weren't any zoms around here.”  She said.

“I told you! I told you they could hear!”  Keisha said as Jody looks at her.

“Who?”  Jody questioned.

“It's my fans!  They've found us.  We have to get out of here, now!”  Keisha said quickly.

“Outside door, everyone!”  Sam shouted as Charlotte, Jody and Keisha ran out the front door.  “You're about five blocks up the road from them.  Head back the way you came as fast as you can.”  

“The guy in your headset.  Can he tell you what the zombies look like?”  Keisha asked.

“Sam?”  Jody starts as they head down the road.  “Keisha wants to know-”

“Yeah, I'm looking, yeah.  Ugh, okay, that's weird.  They all look like teenage girls.”  Sam said confused.

“Oh, I hate kid zoms.”  Jody whines.

“Well, I guess these would techincally be young adult zombies.”  Charlotte corrects.

“That's not better!”  Jody cried out.  “Sam, I can see them...”  She said looking back seeing the group of shambling zombies beginning to gain on them.   “They're gaining on us.  They're all so fast and... all wearing the same T-shirt?”  She questions.

“I told you.  I told you this would happen!”  Keisha cries out.  “That stupid song!  Everytime I manage to lose them, someone has to sing that stupid song.”  

“Five, Four, hang a left up there by that billboard.  We've got to shake them before you can come back to the township.  We'll take you up and down the side streets, try and confuse them, or... or something.”  Sam said as they turned left down a street away from the swarm.

“There's so many of them!  There must be nearly a hundred.  Why are they all together like this?”  Jody questioned.

“It's me.  They're after me!”  Keisha said softly.  “I was supposed to play a concert the day after the outbreak started.  A secret show down in London, only for my most dedicated fans.  They were camping in the street outside the theater when people started coming back to life.  They've been following me ever since.  I can't shake them!  They know where I am all the time!”  She whines as she continues to run with them.

“Right, go right, now!”  Sam said as they turned right with Charlotte guiding Keisha with them.  “There's a little gap between these two office blocks up ahead, do you see it?  It'll bring you out one street over, in the clear.  You'll all fit through it, but it should pack up the zombies a bit.”  

“We see it, Sam.  We're going to be fine.  We're going to be fine, we're going to be fine...”  Jody chanted to herself as the zombies growled louder at them.

“Runners, try to speed up.  Those zombies do seem to be catching up with you rather quickly.”  Janine said fast.

“Oh no!”  Jody cried out.

“Get through the gap, that's all you need to do.  Sprint if you have to, just go!”  Sam shouted as Charlotte pushed Keisha and Jody ahead of her as they came to the narrowing alley.  Charlotte and Jody took off their packs and squeezed through with Keisha in front of them.  They slipped through the gap and took off down the road as the zombies began to pile up in the alley.

“It worked!  Oh, thank God it worked.  They're piling up in front of that passageway.  There's only maybe three of four that made it through.  If we can find a way to get rid of them...”  Sam started as Keisha reached into her pocket and pulled out a pistal and fired at one taking it out easily.

“Got one!  Find someone else to take a picture with, you little undead brat!”  Keisha snapped as they continued to run.

“Well, that works.”  Charlotte said with a grin.

“I see Miss St. Cloud is much more gifted with a pistal  than she was with song lyrics.”  Janine said offhandedly.

“Keep moving, guys.  You've got a bit of a head start, now.”  Sam said as they headed towards the outskirts of the city.

“It wasn't suppoused to be like this.”  Keisha said softly.

“Hey, it's alright.  Sam's going to get us out of this, you'll see.”  Jody consoled.

“It's not that...”  Keisha whined slightly.  “That secret concert I was talking about – it was suppoused to get me away from all this!  This stupid bubblegum pop stuff.”  She said sighing heavily.  “I had a whole new album just about to come out.  I was going to do serious songs.  I was going to play guitar.”

“So... no more dancing?”  Jody questioned.

“No more songs about stupid boys, no more glitter costumes, no more Top 40 countdowns.  I was going to be a serious artist!”  Keisha continued sounding more passionate about it.  “Acoustic, real! I keep leaving copies of the new album in shops, hoping someone's going to loot it and maybe listen to it.  But all anyone ever wants to talk about is that one stupid song.”  She groaned softly as she lowered her head.  “It's not fair...”

“Uh, Sam, should we be going anywhere else right now?”  Charlotte asked after several moments of silence.

“I can't believe she wanted to give up the dancing.  I liked the dancing.”  Sam said almost sadly.

“Runners Four, Five?  You should be coming up on the town counsil offices.  Look for the clock tower.  Do you see it?”  Janine asked.

“We see it.”  Jody said.

“Run straight past it, then take a left.  That's what we agreed upon, isn't it, Mr. Yao””  Janine questioned seeming to snap Sam out of his trance.

“Yeah, yeah, what Janine said.  The zombies are – oh wait.  How'd they... oh... that's just weird.  They're on your tail again, guys!  They must have found another way up the street.  Better pick up the pace.”  Sam said quickly as they picked up their pace.

“They're catching up, Sam!  What do we do?”  Jody cried out.

“I have an idea.  It's me they want. If we split up, they'll lose interest in you two.  But I need some time to get away.  I need you to distract them.”  Keisha said as Charlotte nodded.

“How?”  She asked.

Keisha looked over at Jody.  “You know the words to 'Text Me Up', right? If you sing it loud enough, they might get confused.  Not that you're going to sound like me or anything, but they're dead.  Their hearing's probably not that great.”  She said.

“Sam?  What do you think?”  Jody questioned.

“Well, not that we're running out of options here or anything, but... well, yeah, actually, we are running out of options, kind of quickly.  Give it a shot?”  Sam said unsure.

“I only know the chorus.”  Jody said.

“That's fine, I don't think they care.  Um, hey you, Charlotte right?”  Keisha said reaching into her small bag.

“Yeah...”  Charlotte said/

“Take this for good luck.  It's my new album.  If you don't die, you should really listen to it.  I think it was going to be a big hit.”  Keisha said handing her one of the unbroken CD cases.  Charlotte shoved the CD into the bag.  “You ready?”  Jody and Charlotte nodded as they continue to run.

Jody took a deep breath and began to sing.  “Come on and text me up, whoa-oo-oo-oo-oo-oh.  Yeah, you're so sweet, whoa-oo-oo-oo-oo-oh. Don't have to be shy when we talk on the screen.”

“I'm going to turn off here. Keep going!  And louder!”  Keisha said turning off away from them.

“Oh, I can't remember!”  Jody whined.

Suddenly Janine cleared her throat and began to sing.  “You've got my number, I want you ILU.”

Jody, Janine, and Sam continued to sing as they continued to run.  “Text me up, tell me your love is true-oo-oh.  Don't have to speak, don't have to phone.  Text me and tell me you're mind alone. Come on and text me up, whoa-oo-oo-oo-oo-oh.  Come on and text me up, whoa-oo-oo-oo-oo-oh.”

Charlotte looks around after a while.  “Did it work?”

“It appears the zombies are still chasing Miss St. Cloud.”  Janine said.

“Uh, should we sing it again?”  Sam questioned.

“Runner Four, Runner Five, your way is clear.  Best come back now while the swarm is distracted.”  Janine stated firmly.

“But-!”  Sam started.

“It's not our business, Mr. Yao.”  Janine sternly stated.  “We can't have that pack following the runners back to Abel.  Besides, if she's survived this long, I suspect Miss St. Cloud will manage without us.”

“That song!”  Sam suddenly said.  “Did you know it all along?”  He asked.

“I don't know what you're referring to.”  Janine countered.

“Maybe whent he runners get back, we should all have a listen to that new album.  Like a sort of... like a tribute thing.”  Charlotte suggested.

“Or perhaps Mr. Yao could show us more of his dance moves.”  Janine suggested with an obvious smirk.

“I don't think... no one wants that.”  Sam said bashfully.

“I do.”  Charlotte said with a grin.

“Aw, you have to do it, Sam!  Come on, Char, let's get back.  This, we've got to see!”  Jody said happily as they put on speed and headed back towards Abel.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

<     44     >

Season 1 Beginning

Season 2 Beginning

[cooperjones2020]

Second City, chp. 1

Summary: Sometimes she worries she's settling — for a smaller job, a smaller city, a smaller life than she'd promised herself — but that was before she found out Jughead Jones lives in Chicago. That was before she found out the final secret of Jason Blossom’s murder.

slow-burn, eventual smut, eventual references to violence.

(ao3-->http://archiveofourown.org/works/11409360/chapters/25556550)

There are some weeks you eat lots of kale salads and açai bowls and only drink green tea. Then there are weeks where you eat grilled cheese for four meals in a row and main-line stale coffee. This week is one of the latter. Which is why she is so glad Mary has invited her to dinner.

Her move had not gone smoothly. A truck full of her boxes had somehow wound up in Kentucky, an unlikely outcome she refused to think too hard about because, really, that meant at some point the truck driver had to turn left and south instead of right and north but whatever. It’s fine.

It just means she is wearing rain boots and jeans instead of sandals and a flowy skirt. It is barely May but it is already summer in Chicago and the rubber is making her feet sweat.

But. but. Mary lives in a bungalow in Rogers Park, which is far north enough that people actually get to have yards and there are so many trees and everything is colourful and glorious and smells like flowers and barbecues and new beginnings.

She lingers a little, walking more and more slowly as she gets closer to the house, wanting to preserve this twilight in amber — the colors and the textures and the quiet and the utter peace she feels. Because, no matter how much of a disaster this week has been, no matter that she might have to wear ratty jeans to her first day of her new job tomorrow, this is the first decision she’s made in a long time that feels like it is really and truly hers. And that is something to celebrate.

Eventually the humidity gets to her though, and she doesn’t want to be late, doesn’t want Mary to worry she’s gotten on the red line the wrong way, so she knocks on the door while pulling a bottle of Syrah out of her tote bag.

Mary answers and immediately pulls her in for a hug. She clutches her own hands behind Mary’s back and lets out a sigh. After all these years, hugging Mary Andrews still feels more like home than hugging her own mother.

Mary had already been treated to the ongoing saga of Betty’s moving crisis — in fact, had calmed her down when she called crying because her dishes were in Kentucky so she couldn’t bring the casserole she’d promised for tonight. Mary made her promise to take a nap, and she had tried. She now knew she had 292 ceiling tiles in her bedroom.

So tonight is all about gossip and catch up and making plans for a new life.

“Did you get a chance to see my son before you left?”

Betty grins. “We had coffee last week. Did he tell you he has a date with Veronica?”

“Of course not. He doesn’t tell me about the girls he dates. I didn’t know you two had broken up until parent’s weekend of your freshman year when he introduced me to some girl named Lilah.”

Oh Arch, never change. “Well they ran into each other at fashion week and have been talking since — she’s a buyer for Bloomingdale’s now — she asked him out right before I left.”

Conversation continues in the same vein, punctuated by trips to the kitchen for more wine and plates of cheese and grapes and other little hors d’oeuvres the likes of which Betty normally only sees on Pinterest.

Around 9, a knock sounds at the back door and startles them. Mary walks through the kitchen to answer it, and Betty can just see her between the walls of the hallway and the doorjamb. When she opens the door, all Betty can see is that the visitor is tall with dark hair.

Then he opens his mouth.

“Hey Mar, is Mike home yet? I didn’t see his bike.”

Mary steps back and it’s Jughead.

She hunches forward, even though there’s no way he could have seen her. And—more than that—no way Mary would let her get away without saying hi. A million thoughts spin through Betty’s mind like tilt-a-whirl but they all telescope down to the refrains “is my lipstick smudged?” and “Jughead.”

“No. Jug, I wasn’t expecting you. Mike had to go to London last minute this afternoon, he must have forgotten to text you.”

“Oh that’s okay, we were just gonna work on the desk for a while. Do you mind if I still do—” She could hear him walking into the house, the sounds of a helmet being set down, a jacket shrugged off. She processes these details from a distance, as if staring at the sun underwater.

“Of course not.” Mary finally closes the door. “Here, come into the living room, I’m having dinner with Betty.”

He stops in the hallway, a sudden interruption to the quiet thump thump pattern of his feet on the wood. Her head is still hidden by the door. “Betty. Betty Cooper?”

But Mary is already pushing the door open. Betty tries to paste a nonchalant smile on her face.

“Of course Betty Cooper. Didn’t I tell you she was moving here?”

“No actually, I don’t think you did.” Is she imagining it or does his voice sound smaller?

And then he’s there. Taller than she remembers, maybe bigger too. Or maybe it’s just that she’s sitting down. She stands up, brushing her hands down her pants, trying to convince her stomach to stay where it belongs.

“Hi Jug.” She reaches a hand out for him to shake. That’s a thing people do, right?

“Betty Cooper.” He takes it but doesn’t shake. Maybe it’s not. Her stomach vaults back up into her throat.

Everything about him is so very strange and yet exactly the same. He is bigger. His hair is shorter. There is the slightest bit of scruff on his cheeks and down his neck. But he is still wearing a black t shirt and he still has a flannel shirt tied around his waist and she can see the beanie sticking out of his pocket. His eyes, all the colours of the ocean during a thunderstorm, still seem to cut right through her. She doesn’t realize she’s holding her breath.

“Can I get you some food, Jug?”

His eyes widen and he drops her hand. “Always, Mary. Do you even have to ask?”

When Mary turns back to the kitchen, Betty takes the moment to sit down, tucking her hands beneath her thighs. He follows suit in the chair across from her.

They stare at each other. This is going to get awkward fast.

“Did you say something about a desk?”

“A—? Oh yeah. Mike and I are restoring this turn-of-the-century roll-top desk Mary found at an estate stale. It was a gift when The Final Fissure hit the bestseller list.”

Her eyes stray to her purse, and the book just peaking out of the top. He must have seen her because when she turns back, he is staring at her purse and one corner of his mouth has quirked up. She blushes. Then she blushes more because she can feel herself blushing.

“If you ask me if I want an autograph, I’ll clock you.” He laughs.

“I would never.” But before she can stop him, he is up and pulling the book out.

“Why, Betty Cooper, no annotations? I’m shocked.” Could her face get any redder?

“Actually—that might be my second copy. I got to the airport way too early and, in a whirlwind of productivity, I’d already shipped all my books here—well not here, cause they’re in Lexington at the moment—but I didn’t have anything to read and I’d already finished the newspaper and it was on display in Hudson’s. I picked it up just to look at but before I knew it you’d sucked me back in. So I bought it so I’d have something to do on the plane.” God, Betty, stop talking.

“Hey you don’t have to justify buying my book to me.”

She wants to say I love it, Jug. I’m so proud of you, Jug. How did you get here from there, Jug? What happened to you when you left me? Do you know how long it took to put me back together? But the words get stuck in her mouth, repeating.

Mary comes back in with a plate piled comically high with food and the moment is broken.

“Here you go, Jug. Let me know if you need anything else.” He drops the book back into her purse, gives her a quick wave with the chicken leg already en route to his mouth, and disappears into the basement, and, presumably, into his furniture restoration.

She blinks and tries to mentally re-settle herself.

“So,” she begins. “Jughead?”

A tender look crosses Mary’s face. She is—apparently—oblivious to the current of electricity that seems to run from Betty to her purse and down the stairs to the flannel-clad man.

“That boy. You know it took me a year of inviting him over after he moved here to finally get him to come? I had to show up outside the library at Northwestern and ambush him. He was afraid I was just being polite because he and Archie hadn’t talked in a while.”

“A while” may have been an understatement but Betty doesn’t think this is the best time to correct her. To Mary, it’s just college that drove them all apart. Old friends on different paths. After all, that is what happened to Betty and Archie, and, as she learns when Mary continues, the end of college did bring Jughead and Archie back together.

But Mary, safely ensconced in her new life in Chicago, hadn’t seen the fall out of the Jughead-and-Betty break-up, hadn’t seen the broken pieces that sometimes still cause Betty to wonder if she’ll ever be able to sand them down far enough.

They can’t get back to the place they were before Jughead arrived, joking about Archie’s dating mishaps and all the new men to be surveyed in Chicago.

After an hour of stilted chatter and awkward silences, “I know you’re way too big for this now, but would you mind letting me braid your hair?”

Betty smiles. When she was little her mother had volunteered her and Polly as models when Mary wanted to learn to French braid. Polly could never sit still. But when it was her turn, Archie would bring her legos to play with and snacks. She had spent many afternoons on a bar stool at the Andrews’ kitchen island, constructing castles while her blonde locks were tugged and twisted.

“Of course.” She sets her glass of wine down and rolls off the couch to sit in front of Mary.

She cut it off before she left New York, into an angled bob that brushes the tops of her shoulders when straight, but skims her chin when she lets it air dry into waves and curls—a style she’s been trying to embrace lately — a more laid back version of herself she’s consciously trying to cultivate. A more laid-back city, a more laid-back Betty.

The activity makes the silence feel less awkward. And the soothing feeling of Mary’s nails scratching her scalp soon lulls Betty to sleep.

She comes to slowly. Her mouth feels fuzzy and there are voices above her.

“I was going to just let her sleep on the couch but I’d forgotten you were here. Maybe you could carry her upstairs.” You. You? Jughead?

“I’m awake!” She sits up and peels her eyelids open.

He smirks at her and her traitorous heart gives a single, loud thump. “Hey Pippi Longstocking.”

She’s confused for a minute but then remembers the braids, raising a hand to her head to confirm.

“No, Betty, you’re not riding the red line home by yourself this late at night.”

She tries to protest. It’s not like she has to switch trains, it’s not that late, it’s not that many stops. But Mary chimes in and she is outvoted and before she knows it, she is pushed out into the now-cold night and is strapped into one of Mike’s spare helmets.

Mary kisses her helmet, then Jughead’s, and then it’s just the two of them.

“So where to, Miss Daisy?”

She names the address.

“Of course you live in River North.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Ask me again in a month if you haven’t figured it out.” She rolls her eyes but secretly gloms onto “in a month” like he still expects to be talking to her in a month?

“And where do you live?”

“In Logan Square. And before you say anything, I lived there before the hipsters moved in.”

She gapes at him. “Really? Before the hipsters moved in? Well okay then. By all means, continue to proselytize on the ills of gentrification.”

He glares at her through his visor and for a moment, just for a moment, it feels light and easy. It feels like Sunday night milkshakes at Pop’s and swapping English homework in the Blue and Gold office. The thought makes her chest ache, and her self-consciousness descends like a blanket.

It is cold on the back of the motorcycle, colder, even, than she had imagined it would be. That is why she snuggles more deeply into the back of his leather jacket—brown not black. No embroidery. She’d double checked. He smells like coffee and cigarettes and petrichor. And that fucking kills her. How does a person get to smell like the morning after a thunderstorm?

She’s had that thought before.

When they pull up outside her building and she returns the helmet and finds her land legs, she reaches out. “Thanks, Juggie.”

Then she realizes what she’s done and presses her lips into a tight, white line.

He puts a hand on her shoulder and runs it down her arm until he reaches her hand on her own. He lifts it off and squeezes. “Night Betts.”

“Night.” Then she disappears into her building and turns back to watch him through the tempered glass. A moment later, the motorcycle slings its way around the corner and is gone.

[ruffoverthinksthings]

God Loves You, Which Is Why You’ll Burn In Hell (Part 4): “The Son of the Heretic of the Highest Order” - Jay’s Experiences with Islam

Jafar has never really been a fan of religion, seeing it as another tool for controlling the masses, seizing power, and doing the all important work of keeping it.

To him, the monarchs that were instated due to religious beliefs or some form of “divine right” are no different from the warlords who take cities by force, the only difference being one rules by fear of the sword, the other rules by fear of some unknowable, incomprehensible, and omnipotent Supreme Being.

It does not help that A) he is considered a “heretic of the highest order” for his numerous incidents antagonizing, abusing, or otherwise running afoul of various religious organizations, their Fae, and their deities, and of course, his patronage of “the dark arts,” and B) he has once attempted to rise up to the power of a god, and was ultimately thwarted by a mortal and lesser magical beings.

Seeing the state religion has taken on the Isle does not help his opinion any, now seen as the exclusive domain of fanatics, or those who prefer the convent than Maleficent, or the Badlands.

“Once, those temples had worth, when Beast was foolish enough to send gold, silver, and other precious treasures inside them. Now their vaults are all picked clean of everything good, the metal is tarnished, the jewels cracked, and the tapestries ripped, and all they really have is their own delusion, and the company of imaginary ‘gods.’”

His badmouthing their faiths aside, he has had numerous incidents with the religious practitioners of the Isle, as they are more than willing to physically fight him or risk their personal safety in getting stolen goods back by force, rather than paying his exorbitant fees.

In summary, to Jafar, Religion is a bad idea, bad business, and bad for him especially, so he wants nothing to do with it.

Jay has knowledge of the Quran and Islam from Jafar’s talking to him about BGU Agrabah and how “the fools, the foolish, and the deluded” lived their lives under the former Sultan of Agrabah’s rule, but Jafar has taken great pains to discredit and attack it however he can, going from the lack of evidence with the existence of Allah, the numerous abusive and corrupt practices that have come from the misinterpretation to abuse of the words of the faithful, to claiming that all Muslims of the Isle inherently smell much worse than your average Islander.

(For extreme clarity, the above claim is Jafar’s using an ad hominem attack, and my demonstrating in “show” terms how petty he can get.)

To the young and impressionable Jay, he has always believed that Islam was some sort of divine order of magicians and mystical beings that Jafar clashed with, lost to, and never quite recovered from. The Quran is mistakenly believed as some sort of spell book, a manual to a super weapon that was still somewhat functional on the Isle, or just an object of Great, and Terrible Power like that of Jafar’s old staff.

It’s how he explains why Jafar always seems to want to get rid of copies of the Quran as quickly as possible, and heavily discourages Jay from reading or pilfering them—especially poignant because his MO is still to take anything and everything Jay can get his hands on, as it’s worth something to someone, and because it’s the most commonly found and extensive Arabic text on the Isle.

When Mal goes on her adventure learning all about religion, Jay finally gets to reading it, and is as disappointed as her when it turns out that the Quaran is much less exciting, violent, and full of “driving demons into a whole herd of pigs then sending them straight off a cliff, guys getting tortured and humiliated by entire cities before being nailed on crosses, and one old man drowning entire armies without touching any of them.”

Mal is especially displeased with the fact that all of the stories and accounts of Muhammad are him being an exceptionally nice guy, and even the fact that he married so many women can’t spare the fact that a lot of his wives went on to do even MORE good work.

“Mom was right, this IS just a bunch of stupid stories to trick people into being Good,” Mal said somewhere in the middle of the hadiths.

Jay agreed, “but you gotta admit, this is a pretty sweet operation they’ve got going for them, getting all of these people to just do whatever someone said Allah, Yahweh, or whatever-the-fuck they call Him wants them to do.

“Maybe the power isn’t the books, but it’s in how they use it, kind of like a spellbook.”

“Okay, one, I’m surprised that you’re actually taking an intellectual curiosity to something that isn’t something you can steal, and two, if this means you want to go ask those crazies over in Temple Way, count me out.

“Even the people that live there say to stay the fuck away from Temple Way.”

Jay shrugged. “Suit yourself, I’m going and learning me some secrets.”

So Jay bundles up the copy of the Quran he and Mal acquired through a dubious, long chain of thieves and fences, and heads to Temple Way.

He travels to the Islamic Mosque, situated right next to Frollo’s church and the Jewish Synagogue in a triangle, all centered around a fountain that was supposed to symbolize the same God they all worship, and be the source of potable water for them all.

It might have have been beautiful and full of life once, but now, all there is is long crumbling and cracked stone, dust and detritus, and overgrown weeds and moss crawling all over where water should have been.

The faithful and their non-believing allies are generally very quick to be distrustful and wary of any newcomers, but the Muslims of the Isle being mostly comprised of nomadic tribes, criminals exiled from the safety of Agrabah’s walls, and former members of the galloping hordes of raiders therein, they are especially fast to draw their swords and sneers.

On this particular day, the guards waiting at the doors are lead by their leader, a particularly fierce ex-raider named Kyda. She is one of the few people on the Isle that give Maleficent and her hulking goons pause, large and muscular like the latter, but clever and charismatic like the former, a dangerous combination if there ever was one.

Her eyes narrow as Jay nears, her sand-battered lips curling into a scowl, her intimidating aura amplified by her head, bald and badly scarred from when it was recklessly shorn off.

Jay raised his hands, the Quran securely wrapped in cloth and his fingers. “Warm welcome you guys give to visitors, huh?” he joked.

Kyda is not impressed. “Forgive us, Jay; your father beside, your reputation precedes you, and we have very good reason to believe letting you in to our sacred temple will be to our detriment.”

“What if I offer you guys a peace offering?” Jay said, holding up the Quran. “Something to show that I’m not here to cause trouble.”

Kyda snorts. “I doubt you can offer us anything of value, and more so, I have reason to suspect that you had pilfered it from we the faithful beforehand.”

“I didn’t!” Jay said. “At least, not directly. I got it from a gal who knew a guy who knew a gal, alright?”

Kyda sighed. “Fine, though I can’t tell if you are being honest, I can tell that you are determined. Lay down your offering at your feet, and open it—whatever it is, I want it far away from us.”

“Geeze, it’s not a bomb, you guys!” Jay said as he obeyed.

“We’d rather not risk it again,” Kyda replies flatly.

He unwraps it, and shows off the Quran. It’s a well-worn copy, old and ravaged by the conditions of the Isle, and badly handled by the numerous hands that had brought it to Mal and Jay, but it was obviously loved and cared for by whoever owned it first.

Kyda’s eyes widen, as do the other guards. “Please, give me that Quran, and very carefully.”

Jay instinctively picked it up and brought it close to his chest. “Does this mean I get to go inside?”

“Yes, but do not take that to mean that we won’t throw you out just as quickly if you cause trouble,” Kyda replies. “Don’t think this place like the rest of the Isle, Jay, we will not sell out our fellows for personal profit.”

Jay doubted that, but he figured it best not to erase the goodwill he’d just bought himself. The Quran is traded, upon which Kyda carefully slips it into her bag, while the guards flanking her open the heavy doors.

“Go,” Kyda said, waving her rusted sword inwards. “And please, take your shoes off, we don’t need you tracking grime all over our floors.”

“I will, but I gotta warn you, my feet aren’t that much better,” Jay said as he walked up.

“Just do it,” Kyda growled.

Jay does, and in he walked to the heart of the Isle’s only mosque.

For the wrath of the elements, and all the many uses it had beside a place of worship, the building had lost a lot of its former glory: the elaborate patterns and tiles on the floor and the walls were cracked or missing, hodgepodge divider walls and scaffolding was spread all around to help expand the available space, and even the grand dome that crowned the structure had several holes in it.

The biggest let what little sun the Isle had through, shining weakly on carefully guarded and sickly-looking crops, tarpaulins protecting them from the worst of the elements and gathering moisture for drinking and a crude form of irrigation.

The residents all stared at him, some of them wary like Kyda, others confused, a scant few welcoming; those that weren’t busy with various chores to keep the whole place from falling apart any more than it had were lounging about on tattered carpets, ripped up cushions, or old, damaged animal skins and furs that Cruella would not be caught dead wearing.

Many of them were Arabians like him, skin baked dark by the sun, hair black as night, the hardy and determined folks that could not only live, but thrive in the desert.

“Good day to you, Jay!” said a female voice, much softer and kinder than Kyda’s rough grunts and snarls.

Jay turned to her and found a woman coming over to him with a big, bright smile on her face. She had an Islander’s features, back when the word meant someone who lived and died on a floating patch of land in the middle of the sea, not this rotting prison.

She came just before him, clasped her hands together, and bowed; Jay couldn’t help but notice that unlike Kyda outside, her head was wrapped up in a moth-eaten and filthy shawl. “My name is Mhira, I help run this temple along Kyda. May I ask what brings you here?”

Jay smirked. “Is it really that surprising that I’d show up at your place?”

“I meant that in a general sense, but yes, considering who your father is, we are very curious to know why you’re here.”

“The Quran,” Jay said. “I want to know more about it.”

Mhira blinked, before she grinned, her eyes lighting up. “Ah! So you wish to convert to Islam?”

Jay held his hands up. “Woah, woah, woah, there, lady, I’m not signing up for anything! I’m just here to know what it is about that book that got so many people to do what it says.”

The light leaves Mhira’s eyes, but the smile remains. “Ah. Oh well, an eager student is an eager student, especially in a land such as this—I’ll tell you all you wish to know about the Quran and Islam.” She gestures for him to follow. “Come, sit with me.”

Jay shrugged, and did so.

They entered a sectioned off area of the mosque, full of old books and scrolls, all heavily guarded and being meticulously taken care off by the inhabitants. They don’t look too happy to see Jay in that area specifically, but with a wave from Mhira they stand down, though their eyes trained more closely onto the literature than usual.

“Relax, guys,” Jay said, “I don’t steal books or scrolls, they’re a really hard sell.”

It looks like they don’t believe him, but that doesn’t concern Jay as he and Mhira sit down cross-legged on an old carpet. “Comfortable?” Mhira asked. “Normally, this would be when I’d offer you tea or something to eat, but our supplies are stretched thin yet again...”

“I’m just thirsty for knowledge,” Jay replied, rubbing his hands eagerly. “So come on, tell me: what’s up with that old book?”

Mhira sighed heavily, and smiled patiently at Jay. “The Quran is not just an ‘old book,’ it is a sacred artifact. But that will be all from me for now: please, tell me what it is you know of the us, Islam, and the Quran; it’ll be easier for the both of us if I know which parts to skip, and what myths I’ll have to dispel.”

Jay shrugged. “I don’t really know much; my dad never liked keeping any of these in the house, and go off for hours if I brought it up, so I just stopped bothering. I only read some it because Mal’s studying about all the other religions for whatever reason, and she needed me to translate from Arabic.”

Mhira chuckled. “As expected of your father. Out of curiosity, what are some of the things he’s said about Islam?”

“That it’s a ‘cult of fools and their delusional leaders, professing faith for that which doesn’t exist’ or something like that, I never really paid attention; he used a lot of big words, and changed up between Arabic and English faster than I could keep track.”

Mhira nodded. “So it looks like I’ll have to start from the beginning. I’m assuming your friend Mal has read the Christian Bible and the Jewish Torah, too?”

“We did that because they both had them in English, yeah. Why can’t we find translations for the Quran, anyway?”

“Because reading it in any language other than Arabic is inherently an inferior version of the original text. Do you look at yourself in a mirror, and say your reflection is as much a person as you gazing into its eyes?

“It is the same as with the Quran; Arabic is the language it was made with and meant to be read in, so it will be with all who wish to truly follow Islam.”

Jay shrugged. “Okay. I guess I can understand why you’d want it as close to the source as possible. So what’s ‘Islam’ all about? How’d it start? What’s the big deal about it?”

“In Arabic, Islam literally means ‘submission.’

“In the broader sense, it is the acceptance of Allah’s will, acting as Allah has told us to act, and following the example of the last prophet, Muhammad. Its history is long and great, its wonders many and miracles many and glorious, and I could go on for days telling you all about it, but I can see your eyes already glazing over and your mind wandering, so I’ll give it to you in a nutshell:

“One night, Allah decided to give the last prophet Muhammad everything Allah knew through his angel Jibril. This was all the words and teachings of every prophet before Muhummad, summarized and completed in what we now call the Quran, and we Muslims follow that.”

“So Allah gave him all of that info just like that?”

“Just like that.”

Jay nodded. “This Muhammad guy must have been like Hercules or something.”

Mhira laughed. “Oh no, far from it. Muhammad was just a man like you or I: faulty, mortal, and not at all like the so called ‘demi-gods’ from Greece.”

“So why did Allah choose him?”

Mhira shrugged. “The official answer is, because Allah chose Muhammad as the last prophet; the longer version is, Allah did it for reasons we mere mortals cannot comprehend, all we can understand is the instructions that were given to him and him alone.”

“Oh, so just like Frollo whenever someone asks him why he thinks he can say the shit he does.”

“Similar, yes, but Islam is quite different from the religion Father Frollo believes in.”

“And why’s that? Because they let women like you be the leaders?”

“Yes, but also because unlike Frollo, we the faithful do not believe anyone or anything to be divine except for Allah. Some like Muhammad may have been blessed with great knowledge beyond what we know or are capable of knowing ourselves, but to receive it does not suddenly put you on a pedestal above others.

“We are all merely instruments of Allah’s divine will; to think yourself suddenly beyond that, or worse yet, to think that you might be able to rise up to divinity like Allah is the surest path to destruction and misery, as Frollo and your father have experienced.

“This is the first Pillar of Islam: Shahada. We the faithful declare that there is only one god, Allah, and that Muhammad is Allah’s messenger.”

“So only room for one Big Guy Upstairs here?”

“Seeing as Allah is the only one who should be sitting in the metaphorical fancy leather chair behind the desk: yes!”

“But what about the Greek Pantheon, and the Fairies, and all the monsters running around? Aren’t they all mystical and divine too? Zeus may have given up his lightning bolts, but he’s still kicking and glowing in the dark, and even Hades is still pretty blue and constantly on fire.”

Mhira nodded. “We don’t deny they exist, but we do believe they are Jinn, in the general sense: demons, mystical creatures meant to lead others away, to prevent them from realizing what is truly divine, the answer being Allah and Allah alone.

“Some are more benevolent than others, yes, but last I heard, Allah wasn’t cursing kings to have babies that are half-bull in retribution for perceived insults and slights.

“Besides, Allah is omnipotent, extending far beyond what we mortals can comprehend.

“If the Greek Gods and Goddesses truly were the same as Allah, why is it that only one such copy of them exists in the realm they came from, and why don’t they exist in the Greece London had? And if they do, why had they suddenly went into hiding? And why were all this bastard land’s technological ‘miracles’ as new to Hephaestus as it was to us?”

“But Allah? In every realm Beast spoke to, you will find Islam, the faithful submitting themselves to Allah’s will, the same words in their Quran, as told to them by their respective Muhammad.”

“So wait, there’s a clone of him for each realm the states used to belong in? How does that even work...?”

Mhira reached out and touched him on the shoulder. “Take my advice: don’t think about it too much,” she says, smiling. “Allah works in ways inherently incomprehensible to us, and this ‘multiverse’ confounds even minds greater than mine, and those of the immortal jinn.

“What more of someone like you, for whom the mind was never his strongest suit? No, what you should think about is something that we were meant to understand: Islam, the ways of Muhammad, and the words of the Quran.”

Jay nodded. “Alright, so what’s next?”

“The second pillar: Salat. Here, we pray to Allah five times a day: at dawn, noon, afternoon, evening, and night, to give praise to Allah.”

“Five times a day? That’s a lot of praying.”

“It is what is necessary to maintain the strength of our faith, especially in such a hostile place like this where it is constantly tested.”

“Just sounds to me like Allah’s a lot like Evie: wants everyone fawning over her as often as they can.”

Mhira chuckled. “I can see the comparison. But in return for our faith, we receive strength and guidance from Allah. This Isle may be of the Lost, but still we praise only the truth amidst the lies and the false idols.”

She sighed and frowned. “Normally, we would turn ourselves to the direction of Mecca when we bow our heads in praise, but is no more in this bastard realm of Auradon. The people of Agrabah kind enough not to rob their true home of it, so we turn to that city, as it is the closest thing we have to it.”

“Wouldn’t that make you jealous, staring out to Auradon five times a day?”

“It does. But with Allah, and the examples of Muhammad, we let it pass, and continue on.

“And speaking of continuing, this the third pillar of Islam: Zakāt. When have satisfied our own needs, and we find ourselves with excess, we give it to those who need it, and those less fortunate than us.”

“Oh, so now they owe you, I get it.”

Mhira chuckled and shook her head. “No, no they don’t.”

Jay blinked. “Wait, what?”

“We give not in the expectation of return, we give because it is as Allah tells us too; riches and excess are not meant to be selfishly hoarded and left to rot, they are to be freely and happily given to those that need it most.”

“Excess brings only false pleasure and real suffering: look at your father, he hoards riches not rightly earned nor meant for him, having you steal them from others, and robbing them even more when they attempt to get it back.

“Does he seem happy? Is he ever truly satisfied? Or is he always waiting and hoping for some magical treasure to fall into his lap and whisk away all his troubles, unaware that the desire itself is why he is suffering so?”

Mhira paused, saw it sink in Jay’s mind.

“And are you happy, stealing and hoarding other people’s belongings whenever you can?”

Jay scowled. “Hey, it’s not my fault they don’t take such good care of their stuff!”

“And does that mean you have the right to take it, should their eyes stray for a moment? Is a crime no longer a crime if the victim made it easy to happen? Don’t answer: you don’t, and it still is.

“Everything comes from Allah, everything was meant to be shared with all Allah’s creation, and to be selfish is to go against the will of Allah, stray away from the sanctification and peace meant for you and into endless desire and suffering.”

“So why are some people stupidly rich, and others dirt poor?”

“Two reasons: one, Allah chooses to bless some people and let them experience what is good in this world, so they may inspired and driven to share that goodness with others; and two, a lot of people are selfish asshats consumed by greed and misguided principles, such as your father.

“This world is far from perfect, and even we the faithful are full of faults. The difference being, we are trying our best to become better while the rest tends to just slide further and further downwards into misery, like the Queen of the Heretics and her ilk.

“A word of advice: we do not speak her name here, lest you wish to risk being stoned; I hear that’s very unpleasant.

“Anyway, the fourth pillar is Sawm, where we fast for tradition, for repentance, and for steeling ourselves against temptation. We do it for the entire month during Ramadan, refusing food and drink during the day and only breaking it at night, provided you are strong enough to last the day without collapsing nor perishing from it.

“So you basically starve yourselves constantly?”

“Yes, but we do not do it for reasons of masochism, we do it to feel closer to Allah, remind ourselves of the powers and the might greater than that of the mortal needs and material impulses that so haunt us, and to seek forgiveness when we stray and do wrong.

“It’s one of the reasons we farm here—the food we eat was not stolen from someone else. Everyone else on this Isle forsakes this honest work, preferring to fight and gorge themselves on the scraps and the rotten leftovers of Auradon, thinking it will make them as tough and ‘nasty’ as them.”

Mhira chuckled. “Little do they know the kind of strength you will have if you fill yourself with Allah’s grace, that the rumbling of the stomach no longer seem so dire and all-consuming.”

“The fifth pillar is really more a relic for as long as we are trapped in this bastard realm with the likes of Beast and his allies playing god: Hajj. This is supposed to be the pilgrimage to the holy city of Mecca, but as I said, the people of Agrabah refused to take such the city with them as to not deprive the rest of the faithful their duty.

“It’s about one of the only good things that has come from Auradon, honestly.

“There’s many more things I can tell you about Islam, but the gist of it is that we follow and live our lives according the Five Pillars, the words of the Quran, and the example set behind by Muhammad.”

Jay nodded. “And…?”

“’And’ what, Jay?” Mhira asked.

“And, what’s the big deal?” Jay asked. “Why does my dad hate it so much? Why do you all follow it? What’s so great about Islam? Why shouldn’t I spend my time learning whatever that guy who’s always Confused said?”

“In reverse order:

“You mean Confucius, the great philosopher of the Chinese;

“Because, so many other faiths fill themselves with so much pomp and frivolity, and worse yet, they deify mere mortals like ourselves, turn that which should not be holy nor divine into an object of worship, think a man more than a man for his position, which leads us to people like Father Frollo of the Christians;

“Its greatness is numerous, but in a nutshell, Islam is simple to follow, Allah is great, and unlike some other religions, we do not elevate ourselves above our station, and we dedicate our lives in the service of others, whoever they may be;

“Many of us are faithful, but we do not reject those who do not believe and are willing to accept our charity without robbing us blind;

“Your father is a heretic of the highest order who wishes to blame others to protect his ego than accept he was wrong and misguided, to say the least; and,

“The ‘Big Deal’ is that it is Truth, Strength, and Order in a land where most everyone and everything has gone mad, a land where mortals play god and rip apart Allah’s creations to better suit his tastes, and his ‘undesirables’ are cast out, then turn on each other than the man they should blame for their predicament.”

“So no magic? No special powers? No secret superweapon, or a big monster you use to scare others?”

Mhira shook her head. “No, no, and no: it is just us mortals here in this mosque, living our days as best as we can with what Allah has given us, what Allah wants us to use as our tools.”

She smiled. “The pursuit of great power, unimaginable riches, and false gods are sirens’ songs, Jay: it tempts, it sounds unimaginably beautiful to the ear, until you dash yourself on the rocks or throw yourself into a raging sea, upon which it’d be the last thing you ever hear.

“Just ask your father how well his pursuit for ‘Phenomenal Cosmic Powers’ turned out for him, how any of these people’s malevolent, selfish, and sinful desires ultimately led them to.

“Here, we offer what they think they would get with an ill-gotten throne, incredible powers sourced from blasphemy and atrocity, riches and luxury beyond what any one could use or enjoy, even if they spent every second of the rest of their days with them:

“Satisfaction. Happiness. Peace.”

Mhira smiled warmly. “Jay, should you tire of living with and fighting with the rats of this Isle, both the creature and those people that stoop to their level, know that for as long as I am alive, you will be welcome here, to seek solace, or better yet, to join us in Islam.”

Jay frowned. “Yeah, that sounds nice and all, I don’t think I can be one of you guys… peace and silence and reading books all day really isn’t me, and I doubt I can reign in all my bad habits before you’re forced to kick me out anyway.”

“Jihad,” Mhira said.

“What?”

“Jihad, it means ‘struggle,’” she explained. “The ignorant will say it’s just warfare, and during the Great War Maleficent got it into people’s heads that it was some sort of ‘holy crusade’ where we would rampage all throughout the Isle, forcing all we find to convert or be put to the sword.

“It’s really not on both counts, and worse still, Allah expressly forbids such a brutal, merciless, aggressive campaign like that.

“No, what jihad really is our eternal struggle against enemies, be they soldiers, jinn, or our fellow humans, and especially the greater jihad within ourselves, our fight against temptation and struggle to do the right thing.

“Converting to Islam does not mean that you must miraculously become a virtuous paragon like Muhammad afterward—though that would certainly be nice. What it does mean, is that even though we humans are flawed and imperfect, you will still try your best to be the most faithful and good person you possibly can be.

“… If it helps, we make exceptions, and ignore certain transgressions, and traditions out of convenience.”

“Like what?” Jay asked.

Mhira smiled, looked around warily, before leaning towards Jay. “Can you keep a secret, Jay?”

Jay leaned in, too. “I’m listening.”

“Myself and Kyda share a bed; when the land outside is quiet, the prayers are done, and the faithful are busy or willing to grant us respite, we retreat back to our quarters and, well...” she giggled.

Jay’s eyebrows rose, before he whistled. “I’m taking a stab at the dark here, but isn’t that kind of, I don’t know… not really cool with any of the religions here? Except maybe the Pantheon and the Pagans, but they’re them.”

Mhira nodded. “It is, and they all know, but still, they let us be.” She reached out and touched Jay’s shoulder, gave him a light squeeze. “We’re all sinners here, Jay; if we didn’t do anything wrong, we would be over there on the other side of the vast sea, living in Auradon.

“The only real question here is: how heavy do you wish your wrongdoing to weigh on your shoulders?”

Jay nodded slowly. “… Thanks. I think that’s everything I needed to know...” he said as he got up.

Mhira stood up and bowed once more. “You are welcome, Jay. Please, do not hesitate to return, I am always ready to teach to those who will listen.”

Jay was about to leave, when he turned around and stopped. “Hey, I forgot to ask: why are you on the Isle? You’re way too old to have been born here like me.”

Mhira smiled. “I was a slave girl, bought by a sorcerer who lived in a secret island of his own creation. I was his personal plaything for all his most sordid and awful desires, and after I had secretly studied all of his magics and the secrets of his power, I seduced him and killed him in cold blood.

“Then, I took his staff, donned his robes, and started my misguided campaign of vengeance on the world I thought had wronged me so, starting with ‘washing up’ on the shores of a nearby island and slowly turning its inhabitants into my slaves, robbing them of their minds and free will in their sleep, as I dined, laughed, and worked with them in their waking hours.

“In hindsight, I could have gathered up all his valuables, used his enchanted boat to get to the mainland, and sold them off to live a comfortable life as a free woman.

“But I didn’t, and here we are now.”

Jay whistled. “Brutal.”

“Indeed,” Mhira said with a nod. “Would you like to stay a while and listen to all the sordid details? The enchantment I used to make things easy to remember still holds.”

“Maybe some other day,” Jay said. “I gotta go home with something good, before dad hears about me coming here.”

Mhira shrugged. “Suit yourself, Jay. And when you do return, please make your offering your time and your strength, than some stolen good; in return, we will happily compensate you in food.”

Jay smiled. “Deal.”

The Isle being a small place and almost everyone ending up at Jafar’s Junk Shop at some point, word got around quickly, and Jafar was not pleased.

“Unbelievable! Unbelievable!” Jafar yelled at the dinner table that night, a bottle of stolen, half-decent, not-entirely watered down wine in his hand. “What have I told you about those fools? The kinds of nonsense they will fill your head with? What were you even doing there?!”

Jay shrugged. “I was just trying to find out for myself, is all.”

“Oh, and do you not trust me, is that what this is all about?” Jafar barked. “Me, who clothed you, who feeds you, who gives you work and purpose—would you believe them over me, simply because they let you in their crumbling temple and talked with you for a while?!

“You know what? Don’t answer! I don’t want you to even think about what they’ve poisoned your mind with, it’ll be work enough to expel it!”

Jay keeps silent, and keeps his share of the day’s food—as always, much less than the one on Jafar’s own plate.

Usually, he would just tell himself to steal more the next day, but now, he wonders if he shouldn’t stop by Temple Way instead...

[thatothercosplayer]

Re:Blaster/83 2nd Movement : Last Divination

Hikari sat forwards in the cockpit, flicking several switches before leaning back and flipping another few behind him. He pulled down the mic on his headset. “This is Green Earth to flight tower. You copy?” He asked, as mecha’s engines began to whir to life. 

“Hearing ya loud and clear, Green Earth! Hey! Shoot those Jark Matter bastards down, alright?” Ikura shouted over the intercom. 

((I suggest you listen to this, reader.))

“Pre-flight checks are complete. Open the gates, Ikura.” Hikari coldly answered, ignoring her comments. Hitting a switch above him, the shutters on the mech’s main cameras opened up. The panels on the displays filled with information, showing the current placement on known charts of the area, as well as his current heading, the system’s output, and other important information a pilot needed to know. 

“Roger that! Good hunting, Green Earth!” 

The launch deck’s gates slowly opened, revealing the reaches of space beyond. Hikari narrowed his eyes, taking a deep breath. The fleet of ships weren’t going to wait for them to get ready. It was do or die time. 

“Green Earth, launching!” He declared, grabbing the joysticks on either side of him and pushing them forwards. There was a jolt as the mecha shot forwards, propelled by the rocket sled it was standing atop. The sled reached the end of its track and it threw the black framed giant forwards, causing the pilot to grit his teeth. The rows of switches behind him receded into the walls as the 360 display booted up, showing the rest of the fleet’s forces deploying, with him in the lead. 

“Rogue Squadron, this is Green Earth. I don’t have much to say....go out there, tear those aliens up, and come home in one peace. Green Earth out!” 

He kicked the afterburners into overdrive, the mecha flying forwards. It extended an arm, a beam saber igniting out of the top of the arm. 

Ahead, the Jark Matter forces, with their imposing silhouettes, spiked shoulders, and mono-eyes swarmed forth in hordes, looking to eradicate all life on Earth.

Not today.

Green Earth met its first foe, stabbing the saber through the mecha’s head and laying its free hand on its chest. The pilebunkers embedded in it’s hand went off, crushing the cockpit. It severed the head, grabbing the body and chucking it at another nearby grunt suit. 

His comms crackled. “Hikari! I whipped up something brand new for you that should give you the edge.” He furrowed his brow, glancing over the dashboard to see if there was some new feature she’d put in to better augment his piloting skills. 

“It’s called the TOQ System!” She declared proudly. 

Green Earth split another mech down the middle before kicking its remains away. It raised its beam saber, slicing up a missle that had been fired at it. The two halves spiraled behind it, exploding and lighting it up in silhouette. 

“TOQ System? What the hell is that?” Hikari asked, somewhat frustrated she was cutting off his focus from the allied chatter and surrounding area. 

“It stands for Time Oscillation Quantum System! It’ll displace you in time so you can get the drop on your foes!”  

He growled. “Just get to the point!” 

“You can warp around and be stealthier. Sheesh. You’re no fun.” She signed off, the muffled chatter of ally units returning to full volume. A cap on the right joystick unfolded, revealing a green button.

Upon pressing it, the black paneling of the Green Earth opening up to reveal neon green lights. The eyes flashed blue, and it disappeared. The Jark Matter units that had surrounded Green Earth glanced around in confusion, before one seized up and exploded, the haze from the destruction clearing some only for aquamarine eyes to pierce through the screen. 

Green Earth dashed forwards, igniting the other beam saber and beginning to slice and dice its way through enemy forces. Elsewhere, the rest of the allied forces were struggling to keep up- the mass produced frames, while having strength in numbers, had inexperienced pilots at the wheel. As a result, they were getting torn up....

Until a new contender arrived. 

A sharp, knife-like ship jumped out of warp, throwing enemy forces into disarray as they maneuvered around it in an attempt to not get skewered. Five flaps opened up on the top, kanji painted across each one that read “マジスカロボ隊” (translator’s note: Majisuka Robo-tai, “tai” meaning squadron).

Five suits erupted out of them, leaping forwards into the fray.

“You didn’t think I’d let you hog all the action, did you?” A cool, feminine voice rang over the human comms. 

“Sis!? What are you doing here?!” Hikari shouted, Green Earth looking up from impaling yet another Jark Matter grunt. 

The pilot- Sado- smirked. “Heh...what else? Saving the world. Alright, girls! Let’s show these bastards from outer space how we do it back home!” 

The first suit- the leader- was white, and it had extra thrusters on the back. It was a perfect design, all around- capable of doing anything. It held its arms out, energy arcing between the two fists. It tensed up, before striking a karate pose and running forwards (somehow, despite not touching solid ground) and kicking a Jark Matter mech in the head, before following up with a rocket propelled punch. Blood red text on its shoulder read “00 -  サド “ (Translator’s note: Sado)

Energy coalesced into the shape of a sphere in its palm, before releasing. The white mech grabbed a colossal hammer off its back, swinging it like a baseball bat and smashing the energy sphere, which careened forth...right through several more grunts.

“Grr! Get the fuck out of my way!” 

Another Majisuka unit grabbed the head of a Jark Matter mech, its arm pivoting around several times before it launched the grunt forwards into a horde of mechs, using the thrown one as an imprompteau javelin. The sharp head pierced through not one, not two, but three units, all of them erupting into flames. The thrown unit was stunned, having taken a beating after flying through three of its allies.

This mech that had thrown it was salmon pink, and while smaller in stature it had plenty of thrusters covering its body. In blood red lettering on the shoulder, it read ‘01 - 渋谷 ‘ (Translator’s note; Shibuya). Not only was it maneuverable, but it was able to add some extra power to its attacks. It wasn’t armed with any weapons...just its fists. “Tch! I’m not done with you yet! Get back here!” 

She shot forwards, flying above the stunned suit, before heel dropping onto it, all the thrusters on the suit angling downwards. The suit was torn in half, and the attack continued, going through several more suits that were also obliterated.

Another one flew forwards, colored wine red. It had gigantic, bird-like wings and a segmented tail. The tail broke up into parts, which flew apart individually and began firing at every Jark Matter unit in sight. White lettering on its shoulder read “02 - トリゴヤ, “ (Translator’s note: Torigoya). 

“Aha...ahaha.....ahahaha! Wel~come baaack~” A cackle resounded over the comms as the bits shot up every foe, locking onto new targets with each successive kill.

This mech’s hands and feet were covered in sharp talons, which lit up to reveal they were actually beam talons. Spinning dramatically, wings spreading to their full width, it flew into the fray, rearing its legs up and grabbing another Jark Matter mech by the shoulders with its feet. It somersaulted, releasing and throwing the suit away. The wings closed up, forming a cone. Raising its arms, the crimson mecha clasped its hands together, forming the tip of a drill. It spun rapidly, piercing through its quarry and coming out, wings unfurling as the suit exploded behind it. 

The next one was black, with a solitary white cross painted on its chest. It seemed plain...at least, at first glances. It had an extended thruster compliment, making it look rather angelic. It became enveloped in a violet aura, the eyes flashing. The unit silently raised its head, before blasting off, becoming a living comet. It tore through Jark Matter units in rapid succession, a chain of destruction following in its wake. White text on its shoulder read “03 -  ブラック“ (Translator’s note: Black.) 

The last mech, colored dark green, had a rather sinister aura to it. It was covered in carbon scoring, smears of oil, and even the residue of the strange, neon fluids that Jark Matter used to fuel its mecha. It twitched as it erratically flew about the battlefield. “Hey....are you mad?” 

Snatching a Jark Matter grunt, it flew towards one of the enemy carriers, slamming it facefirst into the hull. It dragged the enemy suit along the outside. “Kyahahahahah! Can you handle the heat?” Declared the suit’s pilot as it deftly avoided the anti-air fire being directed at it. It smashed the suit into the command deck of the ship, getting bathed in flames as the ship began to go down. The stained white text on its shoulder read “04 -  ゲキカラ“ (Translator’s note: Gekikara).

“What the...” Hikari let out...he shook his head. Whatever! His sister and her friends seemed to be turning the tide. 

“This is Green Earth! I’m going in!” He shouted, pressing forwards on both joysticks. He cut a hole into one of the ships, flying inside and skidding to a halt. He’d entered a staging area, where plenty more Jark Matter units were waiting. They all turned their heads. 

Hikari rolled his neck, popping his fingers before grabbing the controls again. 

Green Earth lunged forwards, cross slicing through one unit before tackling the one behind it, driving a beam saber into its chest. Using the momentum, it hand vaulted off the floor, kicking away another grunt before driving a blade through it. Landing on its head, Green Earth angled its thrusters so it would spin around, knocking away more grunts Matrix style, before pushing off, jumping off the ceiling, and landing on the chest of another grunt, using it to grind across the bay and slashing through anything that got in its way. It Kickflipped the mech before doing an Acid Drop into a 360 Impossible, Ollying out of the ship right as it exploded. 

It was pretty clear to Jark Matter their invasion of Earth was a bad idea- they’d never had a loss this staggering. Regardless, they pressed on, releasing more grunts.

“Grr...they just don’t stop coming! How many of these fuckers are there!?” Shibuya shouted.

“Lemme help thin ‘em out!” A volley of missiles flew forwards, each smashing into a Jark Matter grunt and killing them. The source? Another mech that was colored silver, which was armed to the teeth. It had launchers mounted on both shoulders, on its arms, and on its legs. Its back had extra thrusters, on which even more missile racks were mounted. It released the rocket launcher it had been holding, and spread its arms and legs. Panels all over its body opened up, revealing...even more missile racks. 

“You guys haven’t seen nothing yet! I’m about to show them the Macross Missile Massacre! Taste the fury of the one, the only, Mecha Professor, Ikura-hakase!” The pilot declared. “Fire, fire, fire! IKEEEEEEEEEEEE!” 

Every single missile rack unloaded, releasing a gigantic wall of missiles that were so many, I can’t even begin to describe how many there were! Holy shit! That’s a lot! 

They spiraled and twisted in and out of sight, chasing grunts down and smashing into them, detonating and lighting up the battlefield like Tokyo at night. 

“LAUNCH THE BIG ONE!” 

At her command, a gigantic missile fired from the human fleet’s main ship, about the size of a small cruiser. The silver mech ejected all of its empty missile racks (save for the internally mounted ones) and flew to meet it, landing on it and surfing it like it was riding a wave. “Yeeehaw! Let’s see how you like this! The one...the only! Ikura Deluxe! It’s the order of the day! Bon appetit, ya slimy bastards! Kozue....this one’s for you!” 

The mech dramatically pointed, the missile aiming for the Jark Matter mothership. “Go!” 

A close-up of the missile.

“Go!” 

A close-up of the silver mech.

“GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” 

A close-up of the pilot, showing a cutaway of her helmet as she yelled. 

The missile had punched all the way through the front lines, where everyone else was, and reached the back, where the enemy fleet’s leader was.

The missile slammed into the mothership, a gargantuan explosion erupting as a result, sending out shockwaves that tossed the other Jark Matter ships out of formation and throwing any nearby mechsuits into disarray. The silver mech was tossed into the explosion, and it self-destructed. 

As a result of the explosion, the entire front half of the ship had been decimated; however, it was still operational. 

“CHIEF!” Hikari shouted, sounding legitimately distressed. Sure, she was annoying, but that didn’t mean she had to die! “Goddammit....goddammit! You didn’t have to sacrifice yourself!” 

He began to shake with anger, fists tightening around the Green Earth’s controls. “I’ll kill ‘em all! Every last one of them! I’ve lost enough friends to Jark Matter...no more! NO MORE!” 

The Green Earth’s neon green lights turned red as Hikari became blinded with anger, and it became consumed with overwhelming power. It tore forwards, rampaging its way to the back of the Jark Matter fleet. 

Compared to how he usually piloted, which was calm, analytical, and precise, now Hikari’s piloting was uncontrollable, Green Earth careening around as it tore into anything it could get its hands on. 

Additionally...he wasn’t as aware of his surroundings as he usually was. Which was why a Jark Matter grunt was able to sneak up on him. It lined its shot up, aiming right for the cockpit. It pulled the trigger...

KABOOM! 

The Jark Matter grunt exploded, a silver fighter flying through the destruction. “Hey, kid! Watch your ass!” Shouted the pilot.

“C-chief!? You’re alive?!” Hikari stammered.

“Of course I am! I’ve got too much shit to do to just die like that! Though, I gotta admit, that would’ve been pretty cool. Heh.” The fighter flew in closer. “Anyways, you might wanna clench. I’m about to ride you!” 

“Wait, what--” 

The silver fighter lined up behind Green Earth, before folding up and docking with the mech. The lights across it returned to green, as the silver fighter changed its hues to match the rest of the mech. “Docking complete! Hey, he’s still single, just so you know!”

“C-Chief, cut that out!” He demanded. 

“Right, right. Forwards! We got a final boss to defeat!” She declared.

Laser cannons sprung up, deploying over the Green Earth’s shoulders. 

“Right...let’s go! This is for all my friends....both living and dead! We’re gonna come home today!” Hikari declared.

“Fuck yeah! That’s what I wanna hear! Go get ‘em, kid!” Ikura shouted.

The Green Earth sped forth again, bearing straight for the mothership. It was tailed by multiple grunts, which formed up to chase after it.

The Green Earth dove into the mothership, flying past bulkheads, crossbeams, and other structural nonsense that would just be an obstacle during this final assault. You remember the run on the 2nd Death Star in Return of the Jedi, right? It’s like that! The grunts were unable to keep up, smashing into the various parts of the ship and exploding, damaging it even further.

Occasionally, it had to cut through several walls, but it finally reached the core. Conveniently, it was shaped like a giant arena, with the core of the ship being in a giant column that hummed as it ran.

Inside, a SUPER EVIL looking mech awaited Green Earth, and it had a super big cape that looked really dumb because it was fluttering like it was in the wind despite being in space, which is a vaccuum. I mean, fine I guess it looks cool but it’s dumb.

It tossed off the cape, which fell to the ground- this is really stupid I hate this- and it pulled out a beamsaber, which, when ignited, became a massive broadsword. How the fuck does that work? This guy’s trying too hard to be cool.

The two mechs clashed, and a comm line opened between them.

“Foolish Earthling! I, Zhen, the ultimate conquerer-”  “Hey! Asswipe! Shut up!” Shouted Ikura.

“What!? You dare interrupt me, the glorious leader of-” 

“BITCH, I SAID SHUT UP.” She yelled.

Immediately he was silenced. “Quit your yammering and fight! You think we give a shit!?” Hikari shouted. 

“Very well, then...let us dance!” Zhen cried out, laughing as the two mechs rocketed around, beam sabers repeatedly clashing. Green Earth fired at Zhenmech with its shoulder cannons, scoring a few hits now and again.

At some point the Green Earth, damaged and barely functioning, drove its beam saber through the Final Boss’ chest.

“What was that you called me? Foolish?” Hikari commented. “Well, looks like you’re the fool...’cause you’re dead.” He smirked.

“Hey, kid?” Ikura said.

“Yeah?”

“Don’t quit your day job.” 

Zhenmech exploded, and the explosion also knicked the core, which happened to be made out of a super volatile substance known to us humans as Explodium. Immediately it erupted into flames, and Green Earth began the journey out of the ship, flames licking at its heels as it dodged and maneuvered its way back out. 

However, the path seemed...different. Maybe it was just the alien nature of the ship, but the path had changed.

“How are we going to get out of here!? We’re gonna die at this rate! Dammit!” Hikari yelled. “We’ve made it this far...just to lose at the end!”

Ikura slowly lifted her head. It was like...she was in a trance. She saw an angel appear to her...it was Kozue! 

 “This way...”

“Hikari.” She said, in an uncharacteristically calm voice. Fuck, that was a big word. 

“What?” He asked.

“Fly up.” She said. 

“What?” 

“Just do it!” 

“If you say so...” 

The Green Earth angled upwards, holding out its beam sabers to tear through the hull.

The Green Earth was rocked as it flew through the ship’s husk...but it finally emerged, triumphantly escaping as the ship was consumed from the inside out, before finally being consumed in one gigantic, satisfying, climactic explosion that was really good and super cool to look at. 

Also, there was probably like, a really triumphant fanfare or something.

Okay, I’ve burnt out on this drabble. Hoped you enjoyed reading it.

@boukenuniverse

[team-skull-admin]

My favorite 40 games of all-time

Made an arbitrary list of my favorite games of all-time cause I wanted to figure out where Breath of the Wild is on it. It’s, uh, pretty high. Assload of text below the break.

40: Castlevania: Aria of Sorrow I'm not the world's biggest Symphony of the Night fan (outside of the incredible soundtrack) and I think this is where Iga's seamless platformers found their footing.

39: Call of Juarez: Gunslinger I love goofy, experimental games like this and Far Cry: Blood Dragon, but I think the schtick in this (an unreliable narrator bragging about their heroic exploits) works better than Blood Dragon's dorky 80s nostalgia.

38: Rayman Origins A beautiful platformer with incredible level design. The music for the diabolical secret level is seared into my memory.

37: Cibele A short, story-centric indie game that captures the essence of playing MMOs in the mid-2000s and long-distance relationships. The awkward conversations in this game made me think about my WoW years for an entire weekend.

36: Mario Kart Wii It's not technically the "best" Mario Kart, but I actually enjoyed the motorcycles and I have fond memories of crushing my brother while we downed beers and talked shit.

35: Guild of Dungeoneering I'm usually not super into "We made X game, but added CARDS!" even though I love card games, but they nailed the loop here. I vaguely remember one of the decks being super busted, though.

34: Tropico 4 Adding a political slant to Sim City by making you the leader of a banana republic was just the slant to that formula I was looking for, and I lost a weekend circa New Year's '13 just delving into this hard.

33: Gran Turismo 2 My brother bought a PS1 off a friend when they upgraded to a PS2, and I grabbed a copy of this cheaply at the local EB Games. Once I wrapped my mind around the simulation, upgrading cars and havin fun with them here might have more to do with me being somewhat of a car person than anything else.

32: Metal Gear Solid 4 I should really put the whole series on here, but MGS4 deserves special note for making the core stealth actually fun and somehow tying all the loose ends of the insane plot together while dialing up the insanity even further.

31: Sim City 2000 I figured out how to make a 50,000 person city when I was like, 8. I still have no fucking idea how I did this. It took me till my 20s to crack 100k.

30: Pokemon Black/White People are torn on this game, but the contentious design decision to hide the old Pokemon in the postgame made every new encounter incredibly exciting in a way the series hadn't been since the orignals. The writing also shows signs of the maturity that Sun/Moon would follow through with.

29: Dragon Warrior Monsters 2 I think most would deride this series as a soulless Pokemon cash-grab on the surface, but they're actually roguelikes with a crazy monster breeding system and the most rote of stories to get you into the core loop of exploring new keys to breed ever crazier monsters.

28: Diablo 3: Reaper of Souls Diablo 3 vanilla's reliance on the auction house created design issues that were hard to look past, but Blizzard abandoning it for the expansion made the game into an incredible dungeon crawler. I never laddered, but had fun for hundreds of hours chasing loot with friends.

27: Fallout 3 I'll never forget the feeling of walking out of the vault for the first time, and feeling like I could go anywhere. I also think this is the only Bethesda game that regularly pays off when exploring - weird shit like the Republic of Dave or the man stuck in the tree are fantastic rewards for poking at the less inhabited edges of the map.

26: Bassin's Black Bass featuring Hank Parker I'm honestly wondering if the rest of the world has picked up on this game's low-key genius since I saw it for 15 bucks at a retro game store recently, but this game's arcadey fishing is incredibly satisfying and snappy. It has some major, obvious, irritating mechanical issues, but the core gameplay loop is so good I don't care.

25: Middle Earth: Shadow of Mordor I still remember my nemesis. This motherfucker was right at the beginning of the game, inside the first quest area, and was like level 5 or 6, but had a defensive ability that made it harder for me to gank him easily. So he killed me. Twice. And leveled up each time, becoming a level 12 badass who could literally sniff me out when I hid. But he was weak to fire, and I lured him to a campfire and set him ablaze, getting my revenge.

24: Super Metroid I feel like most people would have this game higher on the list, but I think the controls are floaty and Meridia is overly confusing. The rest of the game is incredible and I can't believe they pulled it off on a Super Nintendo.

23: Pokemon Sun/Moon After XY and ORAS were disapointments I was cool on Pokemon, but Sun/Moon challenged a ton of series conventions and got a lot right in the process. I can't believe how deftly this game handles dysfunctional families.

22: A Link Between Worlds This was Nintendo's hit at what was to come with Zelda - a smart, experimental take on the franchise that's easily its best 2d outing.

21: Muramasa: The Demon Blade Vanillaware's magnum opus, a gorgeous Metroidvania where everything is hand-painted. The combat's loop of mixing launchers with sword management is also incredibly fun, if not particularly deep. But fuck I loved looking at it so much and it felt good.

20: The Walking Dead Only time a video game made me cry.

19: Banjo-Kazooie The only 3d collect-a-thon platformer from that era that still holds up, it combines cheeky humor and an incredible soundtrack to craft a world that's always surprising.

18: Borderlands 2 is better crafted, but I enjoyed the dry wit and more grounded guns of the first. I've replayed this like 4 times and I'm not entirely sure why, but I have a blast each time.

17: Doom (2016) Apparently the secret to making this license work in a modern context is to give Halo combat arenas a healthy dose of cocaine and play Meshuggah riffs over it. It so fucking works.

16: Saints Row: The Third I think the writing in GTA is usually sophomoric at best and its attempts at commentary are eye-roll worthy, but having a game say "FUCK IT" and just Mel Brooks that experience is such a wonderful idea. It's also hard to pull off, and SR3 totally sticks the landing (unlike the sequel).

15: Super Mario World The best traditional Mario game. I replayed it recently, and it struck me how much secret exits add to the level design versus 3, and how freed Koji Kondo is by the new hardware. The castle music's classical overture sticks out.

14: Monster Hunter 4 I liked Monster Hunter 3's various iterations but I hated swimming. Taking out swimming and replacing it  with mounting was enough for me to sink hundreds of hours. I actively avoided getting Generations because I knew it would interfere with school.

13: Mario Golf (GBC) The perfect portable game. Golf works well on the platform, and adding basic RPG hooks was enough to make a rote story totally engaging.

12: Super Mario Maker I think the real triumph of Mario Maker isn't the levels (which are usually terrible), it's how Nintendo imparted the feeling of being creative in such an easily digestible and satisfying way. It's an achievement that ascends past Mario design (which still works here) into something greater and more profound.

11: Hearthstone I fucking hate this game and I keep playing it because the Arena is like literal fucking crack and every time I have an opponent at 1 life and they beat me they can eat fucking dicks.

10: Super Mario RPG Clever writing and a strange world grabbed me way harder than Intelligent System's later Paper Mario games. It's too easy and doesn't look as slick now, but the writing still holds up.

09: Mass Effect Trilogy You can't really separate these, as the experience that makes Mass Effect great was carrying your Shepard and their decisions from one game to the next. Everyone will remember Garrus, Wrex, and co. Shame about the ending.

08: Tetris I am weirdly good at Tetris. I know what a T-Spin is. I sank hundreds of hours into it on Facebook. I don't regret it.

07: Persona 4 Describe a game to me as a mix of a J-RPG and a slice-of-life anime and I'll run to the hills, so the fact this game's sharp, mature writing and "just one more day" calendar mechanic combined into one of my favorite games of all-time is a shock. They also put in Pokemon with fucking demons, how cool is that shit?

06: Ocarina of Time I can't believe this game came out in 1998. The world is still fun to traverse, and the dungeon design (especially as an adult) still holds up at the top of action-adventure puzzle design.

05: Magic: the Gathering I wish it was less expensive otherwise it'd be higher.

04: Breath of the Wild I can't believe Nintendo reinvented the wheel so well that I'm putting the game so high on the list. Every design decision in this game is carefully considered to make exploring this iteration of Hyrule that much more satisfying. And its incredibly clever chemistry engine, where every object in the game has chemical properties that can be manipulated as well as physics, creates a ton of emergent gameplay scenarios where you're constantly asking "Can I do that?" and the game almost never lets you down.

03: World of Warcraft Sometimes I regret the 4000 hours I spent in Azeroth, but I'd have a hard time giving up the friends I made there. I could probably shred and like, speak another language though.

02: Pokemon Red I was the perfect age for Pokemon mania, and the fact that the core game was literally designed to appeal to me didn't help. I still love collecting the things and min/maxing ways to beat the Elite 4 with minimal grinding.

01: Mega Man X I think this is literally the perfect platformer. Moving X feels incredible. There's nothing in any of the levels I think is out of place. The soundtrack is a masterpiece. And the game's hidden secret is so insane you'd probably call bullshit on any kid who told it to you at recess. I'm really glad the rest of the world picked up on it after Arin Hanson did a Sequelitis about it, because I've been beating this drum for decades.

[notadog]

@demisexualhale sorry you had a rough time today. have this au that i saw you talking about after i creeped on your blog. it’s... uh. probably not what anyone involved thought it would be. but i hope you like it? 

anyway. 

sterek. 2k. spy au. warnings: i know nothing about spies, secret criminal organizations, or technology in general. just roll with it.

“I’ll pay you twenty bucks to hum the Mission Impossible theme while I do this,” Stiles muttered, fishing an exacto knife out of his tool belt. He fit it under the very edge of the ID scanner and, with a flick of his wrist, popped it off like a dream.

“You could pay me twenty thousand and I still wouldn’t do it.”

“Spoilsport.” Gently pulling all the wires out into the open was the easy part; it was identifying the right one to snip that was going to be the tricky part. Would it kill all organized crime syndicates to stick to one universal standard?

“Try the yellow wire. Third from the left.”

“Try?” Stiles repeated under his breath. “We’ve been planning this job for weeks and you want me to go in with ‘try’?”

He could practically hear the eye roll on the other end of the earbud. “Cut the wire, agent.”

“Manners,” Stiles snarked, guiding the exacto to the wire in question. It slid through with a gentle snick and the red light on the ID reader went out.

“You’re welcome.”

Stiles gently fit the card reader back into the wall and got to work prying open the door. “I don’t recall saying thank you,” he grunted, heaving the heavy metal back inch by inch.

“I’m sure it was implied.”

“I might be inclined if you—” Another grunt as he wedged his shoulder in the space he’d made, trying to use it to get some leverage against the protesting metal. “—helped me with this door.” Not for the first time Stiles lamented the fact that he was chosen for the field, instead of the literal werewolf. Instead, he was embarrassing himself and his very human muscles while Derek got his nerd on from the comfort of the unmarked van parked a few streets away. Life just wasn’t fair.

Stiles gave one last shove, and the door gave way with an angry screech that he was pretty sure was audible in China.

“Derek?” he hissed.

“Hold on.” Polite as always, his partner.

Stiles waited, every muscle in his body coiled tight and ready to spring. Whether that meant to fight or flee was yet to be determined. At least three times he imagined some noise that would precede his discovery, but he forced down the instinct to panic with a violent mental shove. The government hadn’t spent billions of dollars in training his ass to trust his partner with his life for nothing.

After an excruciating eternity, Derek’s voice filtered in through the earpiece. “You’re clear. Not for lack of effort.”

Stiles couldn’t help grinning. “You say the sweetest things.” False confidence was easy again now that his heart wasn’t jammed halfway up his throat. He rummaged through his toolkit for one of his most versatile gadgets: a retractable rod made of a polymer material developed by Derek himself. It was three hundred times stronger than steel but lighter than any other material of its kind on (or off) the market. It was a beautiful piece of some of the most sophisticated technology to come out of R&D, and it gave Stiles a thrill of childish joy to jam it inelegantly between door and wall to keep his escape route free.

“Speaking of which…” Derek’s voice was that special brand of pained that signaled to Stiles that his trick had hit its mark. “Let’s try to keep to aliases while we’re on the comms, all right?”

Stiles winced. He had called out Derek’s real name in a moment of panic, hadn’t he? “It’s not my fault you rejected my code name suggestions.”

The sound quality was considerably different behind the door than in the hallway. Though he couldn’t see into the space, it swallowed up Stiles’ voice in a way that suggested space… a lot of it. Stiles fumbled for the flashlight at his belt and stepped cautiously inside.

“You’re not calling me Eagle Two.”

“Well I’m not giving you Eagle One, dude. I called dibs.” He clicked on the flashlight and did a slow sweep of the room. Well. Cavern was probably a better word for it. It was big enough to swallow the weak beam of his government-issued flashlight, leaving the ceiling and far walls shrouded in shadows. “Are you seeing this?”

Derek hummed, but gave no further comment.

“Gotta admire their style, though,” Stiles continued conversationally. The whole affair was an ode to vaulted ceilings broken up by stone columns and sloping walls covered in expensive-looking tile. Whoever built it certainly had a flair for the dramatic. To his left was a small bank monitors hooked up to a lowly humming box. Stiles made his way over to it. “I mean, you gotta respect the whole batcave vibe.”

Derek snorted. It was a shock, completely at odds with his usual implacable stiffness. In his entire time working with him, Stiles had never once seen the man so much as crack a smile. And here he was, almost laughing in Stiles’ ear. “It’s an evil lair, agent. Much more Luthor’s speed than Wayne’s.”

Stiles considered the space again. It did bear an uncomfortably close resemblance to Lex Luthor’s underground lair in Superman. Much more so than any adaptation of the Batcave. Point to Derek. “I didn’t know you were a fan of the classics.”

“I’m multifaceted.”  

How someone can sound so unbearably smug with only two words, Stiles would never know. “Nerd.”

“Center console. There should be a panel under the monitors.”Definitely smug.

Stiles fumbled around until he found a hidden switch. A previously unseen panel slid forward, revealing three USB slots. Stiles thumbed open the smallest pocket in his tool belt that housed the USB sticks Derek gave him specifically for this point in the job. Just to be sure, he asked, “This the one?”

“Mhm,” Derek confirmed. “You know which one’s first?”

Stiles rolled his eyes. Even if Derek hadn’t labeled them 1 and 2 in obnoxious silver sharpie, the four consecutive run-throughs Derek had forced him to listen to before letting him out of the van would have been enough to hammer the point home.

“Yes, dad,” he muttered, fishing out the first stick. “Just let me know when I need to switch them out.”

“You’ll know,” Derek replied cryptically, which didn’t inspire a whole lot of confidence, but Stiles would be damned if he admitted that out loud.

Stiles watched in interest as the script contained within the flash drive did its thing. It was another of Derek’s projects, something he’d been developing for months with the rest of his little nerd squad back at headquarters. Derek had explained a little of it back in the van. If pressed by a superior, Stiles could explain that the code was meant to create a channel between this server and one controlled by their agency, one that Derek’s team could use to read through and copy every file stored on this server. Anything else had gone over Stiles’ head.

Stiles’ skills were more hands-on and intuition based. Identifying suspicious characters? Convincing them to divulge all of their deepest secrets to him? Finding the fastest way out of any resulting shootouts or capture attempts? That was where he shined the brightest. Developing extremely complicated code to infiltrate evil corporations’ systems, do… stuff while inside them, then exit without a trace? That was Derek’s thing. Stiles was just the sneaky middleman needed to insert peg A into slot B.

The screens flickered constantly between different windows. Lines of code would appear and disappear again too fast for him to read, but based on Derek’s intermittent hums of approval in his ear, Stiles guessed they were doing their job. As the script worked, he kept an ear out for any sign of discovery.

They passed the time together in silence, both of them tense at the thought of the most important part of their mission falling through at the last second. It left Stiles alone with his senses, feeling wrong-footed for the first time since infiltrating the compound earlier in the evening. After a too-long stretch of time, activity on the screens slowed down, then stopped. All the screens were black except for one, which held a single line of green text and a blinking cursor. Stiles leaned forward to read it. When he did, he made a disgusted sound in the back of his throat.

Insert 2nd USB stick, agent. (It has the number 2 on it.)

“Told you you’ll know,” Derek’s voice was a gentle tease in his ear.

“You were so cryptic about it,” Stiles muttered, complying. “I thought it was gonna be something cool.”

“Computers are cool,” Derek replied, then lapsed back into silence.

The second stick took much less time than the first, or maybe it was just the end in sight that made it seem like it was going faster than it actually was. Whichever was true, it felt like no time until a single green line of text was displaying Installation Complete before all the screens went blank.

Derek’s voice was like silk. “Don’t forget to take the USBs with you.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Thanks,” he snarked, tucking the USBs back into their pocket and securing it. “What would I do without you?”

“You would be dead seven times over if it weren’t for me.” 

“Fair,” Stiles conceded. It was gratifying to return the door and find it hadn’t budged an inch since he’d left it. It was rare in Stiles’ line of work that the things he set down stuck around and waited patiently for him to collect them. Granted, at this point in his career most of the “things” Stiles set aside for later were informants and enemies of the government, so a little bit of disobedience was probably to be expected. But whatever. Details.

Easing the door closed was trickier than forcing it open, Stiles soon realized. Not only was he worried about loudly protesting metal, he wasn’t sure how he was going to stop the whole thing from slamming closed the second he pulled out Derek’s rod.

Heh.

As always, Derek chimed in with the solution at Stiles’ precise moment of need.

“Retract it gradually,” Derek commanded, and Stiles complied. “Good. Now fold your jacket in half and stick it in so it doesn’t slam… Good. Now just pull the jacket out.”

Under Derek’s direction, Stiles eased the nightmare door closed. The jacket muffled the metal-on-metal impact, and when he yanked it out, the door settled back into place with hardly a complaint. Stiles made a mental note to make the whole experience sound a lot cooler in his retelling the next day.

“You’re welcome,” Derek whispered in his ear, voice dripping with self-satisfaction.

“I don’t recall saying thank you,” Stiles replied as he popped the card reader out of the wall again, grinning at the echo of their conversation from earlier. There was a prolonged pause as he bit off a length of electrical tape and carefully brought the snipped ends of the yellow wire together.

“It was implied.”

“Whatever you say, big guy.”

Stiles secured both raw edges of the wire with the tape, then confirmed that the ID reader was once again operational. He carefully tucked the bundle of wires back into their space in the wall, then returned the box to its home for the last time, good as new.

“Ready to get me out of here?”

“Always,” was the curt reply, sounding almost fond to Stiles’ delusional ears. “You’re alone on your floor, but there are two guards stationed outside the elevators to the west, same as when you came in. Your best bet is to go south to avoid them, then take the service stair up to ground level.”

“Got it,” Stiles said, already moving towards his exit. “See you soon, dude.”

“You better.”

Stiles made good on his promise, and was rewarded with a nod of acknowledgement from Derek when he threw open the van door. It was the closest Stiles had ever come to getting an honest-to-god smile from the guy, and it made something warm and gentle unfurl in his chest.

He couldn’t stop grinning the entire drive back to headquarters.

[sheminecrafts]

Should cash-strapped Snapchat sell out? To Netflix?

Snapchat needs a sugar daddy. Its cash reserves dwindling from giant quarterly losses. Poor morale from a battered share price and cost-cutting measures sap momentum. And intense competition from Facebook is preventing rapid growth. With just $1.4 billion in assets remaining at the end of a brutal Q3 2018 and analysts estimating it will lose $1.5 billion in 2019 alone, Snapchat could run out of money well before it’s projected to break even in 2020 or 2021.

So what are Snap’s options?

A long and lonely road

Snap’s big hope is to show a business turnaround story like Twitter, which saw its stock jump 14 percent this week despite losing monthly active users by deepening daily user engagement and producing profits. But without some change that massively increases daily time spent while reducing costs, it could take years for Snap to reach profitability. The company has already laid off 120 employees in March, or 7 percent of its workforce. And 40 percent of the remaining 3,000 employees plan to leave — up 11 percentage points from Q1 2018 according to internal survey data attained by Cheddar’s Alex Heath.

Snapchat is relying on the Project Mushroom engineering overhaul of its Android app to speed up performance, and thereby accelerate user growth and retention. Snap neglected the developing world’s Android market for years as it focused on iPhone-toting US teens. Given Snapchat is all about quick videos, slow load times made it nearly unusable, especially in markets with slower network connections and older phones.

Looking at the competitive landscape, WhatsApp’s Snapchat Stories clone Status has grown to 450 million daily users while Instagram Stories has reached 400 million dailies — much of that coming in the developing world, thereby blocking Snap’s growth abroad as I predicted when Insta Stories launched. Snap actually lost 3 million daily users in Q2 2018. Snap Map hasn’t become ubiquitous, Snap’s Original Shows still aren’t premium enough to drag in tons of new users, Discover is a clickbait-overloaded mess, and Instagram has already copied the best parts of its ephemeral messaging.

SAN FRANCISCO, CA – SEPTEMBER 09: Evan Spiegel of Snapchat attends TechCruch Disrupt SF 2013 at San Francisco Design Center on September 9, 2013 in San Francisco, California. (Photo by Steve Jennings/Getty Images for TechCrunch)

As BTIG’s Rich Greenfield points out, CEO Evan Spiegel claims Snapchat is the fastest way to communicate, but it’s not for text messaging, and the default that chats disappear makes it unreliable of utilitarian chat. And if WhatsApp were to add an ephemeral messaging feature of its own, growth for Snapchat could get even tougher. Snap will have to hope it can hold on to its existing users and squeeze more cash out of them to keep reducing losses.

All those product missteps and and market neglect have metastasized into a serious growth problem for Snapchat. It lost another 2 million users this quarter, and expects to sink further in Q4. Even with the Android rebuild, Spiegel’s assurances for renewed user growth in 2019 seem spurious. That means it’s highly unlikely that Snapchat will achieve Speigel’s goal of hitting profitability in 2019. It needs either an investor or acquirer to come to its aid.

Snapchat loses 2M more users in Q3 as shares sink to new low

A bailout check

Snap could sell more equity to raise money. $500 million to $1 billion would probably give it the runway necessary to get into the black. But from where? With all the scrutiny on Saudi Arabia, Snap might avoid taking money from the kingdom. Saudi’s Prince Al-Waleed Talal already invested $250 million to buy 2.5 percent of Snap on the open market.

Snap’s best bet might be to take more money from Chinese internet giant Tencent. The massive corporation already spent around $2 billion to buy a 12 percent stake in Snap from the open market. The WeChat owner has plenty of synergies with Snapchat, especially since it runs a massive gaming business and Snap is planning to launch a third-party developer gaming platform.

Tencent could still be a potential acquirer for Snap, but given President Trump’s trade war with China, he might push regulators to block a sale. The state of American social networks like Twitter and Facebook that are under siege by foreign election interference, trolls, and hackers might make the US government understandably concerned about a Chinese giant owning one of the top teen apps.

Regardless of who would invest, they’d likely demand real voting rights — something Snap has denied investors through a governance structure. Spiegel and his co-founder Bobby Murphy both get 10 votes per share. That’s estimated to amount to 89 percent of the voting rights. Shares issued in the IPO came with zero voting rights.

Evan Spiegel and Bobby Murphy, developers of Snapchat (Photo by J. Emilio Flores/Corbis via Getty Images)

But that surely wouldn’t sit well with any investor willing to pour hundreds of millions of dollars into the beleaguered company. Spiegel has taken responsibility for pushing the disastrous redesign early this year that coincided with a significant drop in its download rank. It also inspired a tweet from mega-celebrity Kylie Jenner bashing the app that shaved $1.3 billion off the company’s market cap.

Between the redesign flop, stagnant product innovation, and Spiegel laughing off Facebook’s competition only to be crushed by it, the CEO no longer has the sterling reputation that allowed him to secure total voting control for the co-founders. That means investors will want assurance that if they inject a ton of cash, they’ll have some recourse if Spiegel mismanages it. He may need to swallow his pride, issue voting shares, and commit to milestones he’s required to hit to retain his role as chief executive.

A Soft Landing Somewhere Else

Snap could alternatively surrender as an independent company and be acquired by a deep-pocketed tech giant. Without having to worry about finances or short-term goals, Snap could invest in improving its features and app performance for the long-term. Social networks are tough to kill entirely, so despite competition, Snap could become lucrative if aided through this rough spot.

Combine that with the $637 million bonus Spiegel got for taking Snap public, and he has little financial incentive or shareholder pressure compelling him to sell. Even if the company was bleeding out much worse than it is already, Spiegel could ride it into the ground.

Again, the biggest barrier to this path is Spiegel. Combine totalitarian voting control with the $637 million bonus Spiegel got for taking Snap public, and he has little financial incentive or shareholder pressure compelling him to sell. Even if the company was bleeding out much worse than it is already, Spiegel could ride it into the ground. The only way to get a deal done might be to make Spiegel perceive it as a win.

Selling to Disney could be spun as a such. It hasn’t really figured out mobile amidst distraction from super heroes and Star Wars. Its core tween audience are addicted to YouTube and Snap even if they shouldn’t be on them. They’re both LA companies. And Disney already ponied up $350 million to buy kids desktop social networking game Club Penguin. Becoming head of mobile or something like that for the most iconic entertainment company ever could a vaulted-enough position to entice Spiegel. I could see him being a Disney CEO candidate one day.

What about walking in the footsteps of Steve Jobs? Apple isn’t social. It failed so badly with efforts like its Ping music listeners network that it’s basically abdicated the whole market. iMessage and its cutesy Animoji are its only stakes. Meanwhile, it’s getting tougher and tougher to differentiate with mobile hardware. Each new iPhone seems closer to the last. Apple has resorted to questionable decisions like ditching the oft-missed headphone jack and reliable TouchID to keep the industrial design in flux.

Increasingly, Apple must rely on its iOS software to compete for customers with Android headsets. But you know who’s great at making interesting software? Snapchat. You know who has a great relationship with the next generation of phone owners? Snapchat. And do you know whose CEO could probably smile earnestly beside Tim Cook announcing a brighter future for social media unlocked by two privacy-focused companies joining forces? Snapchat. Plus, think of all the fun Snapple jokes?

There’s a chance to take revenge on Facebook if Snapchat wanted to team up with Mark Zuckerberg’s old arch nemesis Google . After Zuck declared “Carthage must be destroyed”, Google+ flopped and its messaging apps became a fragmented mess. Alphabet has since leaned away from social networking. Of course it still has the juggernaut that is YouTube — a perennial teen favorite alongside Snapchat and Instagram. And it’s got the perfect complement to Snap’s ephemerality in the form of Google Photos, the best-in-class permanent photo archiving tool. With the consume side of Google+ shutting down after accidentally exposing user data, Google still lacks a traditional social network where being a friend comes before being a fan.

What Google does have is a reputation for delivering the future. From Waymo’s self-driving cars to Calico’s plan to make you live forever, Google is an inventive place where big ideas come to fruition. Spiegel could frame Google as aligned with its philosophy of creating new ways to organize and consume information that adapt to human behavior. He surely wouldn’t mind being lumped in with Internet visionaries like Larry Page and Sergei Brin. Google’s Android expertise could reinvigorate Snap in emerging markets. And together they could take a stronger swing at Facebook.

But there are problems with all of these options. Buying Snap would be a massive bet for Disney, and Snap’s lingering bad rap as a sexting app might dissuade Mickey Mouse’s overlords. Apple rarely buys such late-stage public companies. CEO Tim Cook has been able to take the moral high ground because Apple makes its money from hardware rather than off of  personal info through ad targeting. If Apple owned Snap, it’d be in the data exploitation business just like everyone else.

And Google’s existing dominance in software might draw the attention of regulators. The prevailing sentiment is that it was a massive mistake to let Facebook acquire Instagram and WhatsApp, as it centralized power and created a social empire. With Google already owning YouTube, the government might see problems with it buying one of the other most popular teen apps.

That’s why I think Netflix could be a great acquirer for Snap. They’re both video entertainment companies at the vanguard of cultural relevance, yet have no overlap in products. Netflix already showed its appreciation for Snapchat’s innovation by adopting a Stories-like vertical video clip format for discovering and previewing what you could watch. The two could partner to promote Netflix Originals and subscriptions inside of Snapchat. Netflix could teach Snap how to win at exclusive content while gaining a place to distribute video that’s under 20 minutes long.

With a $130 billion market cap, Netflix could certainly afford it. Though since Netflix already has $6 billion in debt from financing Originals, it would have to either sell more debt or issue Netflix shares to Snapchat’s owners. But given Netflix’s high-flying performance, massive market share, and cultural primacy, the big question is whether Snap would drag it down.

So how much would it potentially cost? Snap’s market cap is hovering around $8.8 billion with a $6.28 share price. That’s around its all-time low and just over a quarter of its IPO pop share price high. Acquiring Snap would surely require paying a premium above the market cap. Remember, Google already reportedly offered to acquire Snap for $30 billion prior to its final funding round and IPO. But that was before Snap’s growth rate sunk and it started losing the Stories War to Facebook. A much smaller offer could look a lot prettier now.

Social networks are hard to kill. If Snap can cut costs, fix its product, improve revenue per users, and score some outside investment, it could survive and slowly climb. If Twitter is any indication, aging social networks can reflower into lucrative businesses given enough time and product care. But if Snapchat wants to play in the big leagues and continue having a major influence on the mobile future, it may have to snap out of the idea that it can win on its own.

Snapchat loses 2M more users in Q3 as shares sink to new low

from iraidajzsmmwtv https://ift.tt/2Sm6GJb via IFTTT

[theinvinciblenoob]

Snapchat needs a sugar daddy. Its cash reserves dwindling from giant quarterly losses. Poor morale from a battered share price and cost-cutting measures sap momentum. And intense competition from Facebook is preventing rapid growth. With just $1.4 billion in assets remaining at the end of a brutal Q3 2018 and analysts estimating it will lose $1.5 billion in 2019 alone, Snapchat could run out of money well before it’s projected to break even in 2020 or 2021.

So what are Snap’s options?

A long and lonely road

Snap’s big hope is to show a business turnaround story like Twitter, which saw its stock jump 14 percent this week despite losing monthly active users by deepening daily user engagement and producing profits. But without some change that massively increases daily time spent while reducing costs, it could take years for Snap to reach profitability. The company has already laid off 120 employees in March, or 7 percent of its workforce. And 40 percent of the remaining 3,000 employees plan to leave — up 11 percentage points from Q1 2018 according to internal survey data attained by Cheddar’s Alex Heath.

Snapchat is relying on the Project Mushroom engineering overhaul of its Android app to speed up performance, and thereby accelerate user growth and retention. Snap neglected the developing world’s Android market for years as it focused on iPhone-toting US teens. Given Snapchat is all about quick videos, slow load times made it nearly unusable, especially in markets with slower network connections and older phones.

Looking at the competitive landscape, WhatsApp’s Snapchat Stories clone Status has grown to 450 million daily users while Instagram Stories has reached 400 million dailies — much of that coming in the developing world, thereby blocking Snap’s growth abroad as I predicted when Insta Stories launched. Snap actually lost 3 million daily users in Q2 2018. Snap Map hasn’t become ubiquitous, Snap’s Original Shows still aren’t premium enough to drag in tons of new users, Discover is a clickbait-overloaded mess, and Instagram has already copied the best parts of its ephemeral messaging.

SAN FRANCISCO, CA – SEPTEMBER 09: Evan Spiegel of Snapchat attends TechCruch Disrupt SF 2013 at San Francisco Design Center on September 9, 2013 in San Francisco, California. (Photo by Steve Jennings/Getty Images for TechCrunch)

As BTIG’s Rich Greenfield points out, CEO Evan Spiegel claims Snapchat is the fastest way to communicate, but it’s not for text messaging, and the default that chats disappear makes it unreliable of utilitarian chat. And if WhatsApp were to add an ephemeral messaging feature of its own, growth for Snapchat could get even tougher. Snap will have to hope it can hold on to its existing users and squeeze more cash out of them to keep reducing losses.

All those product missteps and and market neglect have metastasized into a serious growth problem for Snapchat. It lost another 2 million users this quarter, and expects to sink further in Q4. Even with the Android rebuild, Spiegel’s assurances for renewed user growth in 2019 seem spurious. That means it’s highly unlikely that Snapchat will achieve Speigel’s goal of hitting profitability in 2019. It needs either an investor or acquirer to come to its aid.

Snapchat loses 2M more users in Q3 as shares sink to new low

A bailout check

Snap could sell more equity to raise money. $500 million to $1 billion would probably give it the runway necessary to get into the black. But from where? With all the scrutiny on Saudi Arabia, Snap might avoid taking money from the kingdom. Saudi’s Prince Al-Waleed Talal already invested $250 million to buy 2.5 percent of Snap on the open market.

Snap’s best bet might be to take more money from Chinese internet giant Tencent. The massive corporation already spent around $2 billion to buy a 12 percent stake in Snap from the open market. The WeChat owner has plenty of synergies with Snapchat, especially since it runs a massive gaming business and Snap is planning to launch a third-party developer gaming platform.

Tencent could still be a potential acquirer for Snap, but given President Trump’s trade war with China, he might push regulators to block a sale. The state of American social networks like Twitter and Facebook that are under siege by foreign election interference, trolls, and hackers might make the US government understandably concerned about a Chinese giant owning one of the top teen apps.

Regardless of who would invest, they’d likely demand real voting rights — something Snap has denied investors through a governance structure. Spiegel and his co-founder Bobby Murphy both get 10 votes per share. That’s estimated to amount to 89 percent of the voting rights. Shares issued in the IPO came with zero voting rights.

Evan Spiegel and Bobby Murphy, developers of Snapchat (Photo by J. Emilio Flores/Corbis via Getty Images)

But that surely wouldn’t sit well with any investor willing to pour hundreds of millions of dollars into the beleaguered company. Spiegel has taken responsibility for pushing the disastrous redesign early this year that coincided with a significant drop in its download rank. It also inspired a tweet from mega-celebrity Kylie Jenner bashing the app that shaved $1.3 billion off the company’s market cap.

Between the redesign flop, stagnant product innovation, and Spiegel laughing off Facebook’s competition only to be crushed by it, the CEO no longer has the sterling reputation that allowed him to secure total voting control for the co-founders. That means investors will want assurance that if they inject a ton of cash, they’ll have some recourse if Spiegel mismanages it. He may need to swallow his pride, issue voting shares, and commit to milestones he’s required to hit to retain his role as chief executive.

A Soft Landing Somewhere Else

Snap could alternatively surrender as an independent company and be acquired by a deep-pocketed tech giant. Without having to worry about finances or short-term goals, Snap could invest in improving its features and app performance for the long-term. Social networks are tough to kill entirely, so despite competition, Snap could become lucrative if aided through this rough spot.

Combine that with the $637 million bonus Spiegel got for taking Snap public, and he has little financial incentive or shareholder pressure compelling him to sell. Even if the company was bleeding out much worse than it is already, Spiegel could ride it into the ground.

Again, the biggest barrier to this path is Spiegel. Combine totalitarian voting control with the $637 million bonus Spiegel got for taking Snap public, and he has little financial incentive or shareholder pressure compelling him to sell. Even if the company was bleeding out much worse than it is already, Spiegel could ride it into the ground. The only way to get a deal done might be to make Spiegel perceive it as a win.

Selling to Disney could be spun as a such. It hasn’t really figured out mobile amidst distraction from super heroes and Star Wars. Its core tween audience are addicted to YouTube and Snap even if they shouldn’t be on them. They’re both LA companies. And Disney already ponied up $350 million to buy kids desktop social networking game Club Penguin. Becoming head of mobile or something like that for the most iconic entertainment company ever could a vaulted-enough position to entice Spiegel. I could see him being a Disney CEO candidate one day.

What about walking in the footsteps of Steve Jobs? Apple isn’t social. It failed so badly with efforts like its Ping music listeners network that it’s basically abdicated the whole market. iMessage and its cutesy Animoji are its only stakes. Meanwhile, it’s getting tougher and tougher to differentiate with mobile hardware. Each new iPhone seems closer to the last. Apple has resorted to questionable decisions like ditching the oft-missed headphone jack and reliable TouchID to keep the industrial design in flux.

Increasingly, Apple must rely on its iOS software to compete for customers with Android headsets. But you know who’s great at making interesting software? Snapchat. You know who has a great relationship with the next generation of phone owners? Snapchat. And do you know whose CEO could probably smile earnestly beside Tim Cook announcing a brighter future for social media unlocked by two privacy-focused companies joining forces? Snapchat. Plus, think of all the fun Snapple jokes?

There’s a chance to take revenge on Facebook if Snapchat wanted to team up with Mark Zuckerberg’s old arch nemesis Google . After Zuck declared “Carthage must be destroyed”, Google+ flopped and its messaging apps became a fragmented mess. Alphabet has since leaned away from social networking. Of course it still has the juggernaut that is YouTube — a perennial teen favorite alongside Snapchat and Instagram. And it’s got the perfect complement to Snap’s ephemerality in the form of Google Photos, the best-in-class permanent photo archiving tool. With the consume side of Google+ shutting down after accidentally exposing user data, Google still lacks a traditional social network where being a friend comes before being a fan.

What Google does have is a reputation for delivering the future. From Waymo’s self-driving cars to Calico’s plan to make you live forever, Google is an inventive place where big ideas come to fruition. Spiegel could frame Google as aligned with its philosophy of creating new ways to organize and consume information that adapt to human behavior. He surely wouldn’t mind being lumped in with Internet visionaries like Larry Page and Sergei Brin. Google’s Android expertise could reinvigorate Snap in emerging markets. And together they could take a stronger swing at Facebook.

But there are problems with all of these options. Buying Snap would be a massive bet for Disney, and Snap’s lingering bad rap as a sexting app might dissuade Mickey Mouse’s overlords. Apple rarely buys such late-stage public companies. CEO Tim Cook has been able to take the moral high ground because Apple makes its money from hardware rather than off of  personal info through ad targeting. If Apple owned Snap, it’d be in the data exploitation business just like everyone else.

And Google’s existing dominance in software might draw the attention of regulators. The prevailing sentiment is that it was a massive mistake to let Facebook acquire Instagram and WhatsApp, as it centralized power and created a social empire. With Google already owning YouTube, the government might see problems with it buying one of the other most popular teen apps.

That’s why I think Netflix could be a great acquirer for Snap. They’re both video entertainment companies at the vanguard of cultural relevance, yet have no overlap in products. Netflix already showed its appreciation for Snapchat’s innovation by adopting a Stories-like vertical video clip format for discovering and previewing what you could watch. The two could partner to promote Netflix Originals and subscriptions inside of Snapchat. Netflix could teach Snap how to win at exclusive content while gaining a place to distribute video that’s under 20 minutes long.

With a $130 billion market cap, Netflix could certainly afford it. Though since Netflix already has $6 billion in debt from financing Originals, it would have to either sell more debt or issue Netflix shares to Snapchat’s owners. But given Netflix’s high-flying performance, massive market share, and cultural primacy, the big question is whether Snap would drag it down.

So how much would it potentially cost? Snap’s market cap is hovering around $8.8 billion with a $6.28 share price. That’s around its all-time low and just over a quarter of its IPO pop share price high. Acquiring Snap would surely require paying a premium above the market cap. Remember, Google already reportedly offered to acquire Snap for $30 billion prior to its final funding round and IPO. But that was before Snap’s growth rate sunk and it started losing the Stories War to Facebook. A much smaller offer could look a lot prettier now.

Social networks are hard to kill. If Snap can cut costs, fix its product, improve revenue per users, and score some outside investment, it could survive and slowly climb. If Twitter is any indication, aging social networks can reflower into lucrative businesses given enough time and product care. But if Snapchat wants to play in the big leagues and continue having a major influence on the mobile future, it may have to snap out of the idea that it can win on its own.

Snapchat loses 2M more users in Q3 as shares sink to new low

via TechCrunch

[fmservers]

Should cash-strapped Snapchat sell out? To Netflix?

Snapchat needs a sugar daddy. Its cash reserves dwindling from giant quarterly losses. Poor morale from a battered share price and cost-cutting measures sap momentum. And intense competition from Facebook is preventing rapid growth. With just $1.4 billion in assets remaining at the end of a brutal Q3 2018 and analysts estimating it will lose $1.5 billion in 2019 alone, Snapchat could run out of money well before it’s projected to break even in 2020 or 2021.

So what are Snap’s options?

A long and lonely road

Snap’s big hope is to show a business turnaround story like Twitter, which saw its stock jump 14 percent this week despite losing monthly active users by deepening daily user engagement and producing profits. But without some change that massively increases daily time spent while reducing costs, it could take years for Snap to reach profitability. The company has already laid off 120 employees in March, or 7 percent of its workforce. And 40 percent of the remaining 3,000 employees plan to leave — up 11 percentage points from Q1 2018 according to internal survey data attained by Cheddar’s Alex Heath.

Snapchat is relying on the Project Mushroom engineering overhaul of its Android app to speed up performance, and thereby accelerate user growth and retention. Snap neglected the developing world’s Android market for years as it focused on iPhone-toting US teens. Given Snapchat is all about quick videos, slow load times made it nearly unusable, especially in markets with slower network connections and older phones.

Looking at the competitive landscape, WhatsApp’s Snapchat Stories clone Status has grown to 450 million daily users while Instagram Stories has reached 400 million dailies — much of that coming in the developing world, thereby blocking Snap’s growth abroad as I predicted when Insta Stories launched. Snap actually lost 3 million daily users in Q2 2018. Snap Map hasn’t become ubiquitous, Snap’s Original Shows still aren’t premium enough to drag in tons of new users, Discover is a clickbait-overloaded mess, and Instagram has already copied the best parts of its ephemeral messaging.

As BTIG’s Rich Greenfield points out, CEO Evan Spiegel claims Snapchat is the fastest way to communicate, but it’s not for text messaging, and the default that chats disappear makes it unreliable of utilitarian chat. And if WhatsApp were to add an ephemeral messaging feature of its own, growth for Snapchat could get even tougher. Snap will have to hope it can hold on to its existing users and squeeze more cash out of them to keep reducing losses.

SAN FRANCISCO, CA – SEPTEMBER 09: Evan Spiegel of Snapchat attends TechCruch Disrupt SF 2013 at San Francisco Design Center on September 9, 2013 in San Francisco, California. (Photo by Steve Jennings/Getty Images for TechCrunch)

All those product missteps and and market neglect have metastasized into a serious growth problem for Snapchat. It lost another 2 million users this quarter, and expects to sink further in Q4. Even with the Android rebuild, Spiegel’s assurances for renewed user growth in 2019 seem spurious. That means it’s highly unlikely that Snapchat will achieve Speigel’s goal of hitting profitability in 2019. It needs either an investor or acquirer to come to its aid.

A bailout check

Snap could sell more equity to raise money. $500 million to $1 billion would probably give it the runway necessary to get into the black. But from where? With all the scrutiny on Saudi Arabia, Snap might avoid taking money from the kingdom. Saudi’s Prince Al-Waleed Talal already invested $250 million to buy 2.5 percent of Snap on the open market.

Snap’s best bet might be to take more money from Chinese internet giant Tencent. The massive corporation already spent around $2 billion to buy a 12 percent stake in Snap from the open market. The WeChat owner has plenty of synergies with Snapchat, especially since it runs a massive gaming business and Snap is planning to launch a third-party developer gaming platform.

Tencent could still be a potential acquirer for Snap, but given President Trump’s trade war with China, he might push regulators to block a sale. The state of American social networks like Twitter and Facebook that are under siege by foreign election interference, trolls, and hackers might make the US government understandably concerned about a Chinese giant owning one of the top teen apps.

Regardless of who would invest, they’d likely demand real voting rights — something Snap has denied investors through a governance structure. Spiegel and his co-founder Bobby Murphy both get 10 votes per share. That’s estimated to amount to 89 percent of the voting rights. Shares issued in the IPO came with zero voting rights.

Evan Spiegel and Bobby Murphy, developers of Snapchat (Photo by J. Emilio Flores/Corbis via Getty Images)

But that surely wouldn’t sit well with any investor willing to pour hundreds of millions of dollars into the beleaguered company. Spiegel has taken responsibility for pushing the disastrous redesign early this year that coincided with a significant drop in its download rank. It also inspired a tweet from mega-celebrity Kylie Jenner bashing the app that shaved $1.3 billion off the company’s market cap.

Between the redesign flop, stagnant product innovation, and Spiegel laughing off Facebook’s competition only to be crushed by it, the CEO no longer has the sterling reputation that allowed him to secure total voting control for the co-founders. That means investors will want assurance that if they inject a ton of cash, they’ll have some recourse if Spiegel mismanages it. He may need to swallow his pride, issue voting shares, and commit to milestones he’s required to hit to retain his role as chief executive.

A Soft Landing Somewhere Else

Snap could alternatively surrender as an independent company and be acquired by a deep-pocketed tech giant. Without having to worry about finances or short-term goals, Snap could invest in improving its features and app performance for the long-term. Social networks are tough to kill entirely, so despite competition, Snap could become lucrative if aided through this rough spot.

Combine that with the $637 million bonus Spiegel got for taking Snap public, and he has little financial incentive or shareholder pressure compelling him to sell. Even if the company was bleeding out much worse than it is already, Spiegel could ride it into the ground.

Again, the biggest barrier to this path is Spiegel. Combine totalitarian voting control with the $637 million bonus Spiegel got for taking Snap public, and he has little financial incentive or shareholder pressure compelling him to sell. Even if the company was bleeding out much worse than it is already, Spiegel could ride it into the ground. The only way to get a deal done might be to make Spiegel perceive it as a win.

Selling to Disney could be spun as a such. It hasn’t really figured out mobile amidst distraction from super heroes and Star Wars. Its core tween audience are addicted to YouTube and Snap even if they shouldn’t be on them. They’re both LA companies. And Disney already ponied up $350 million to buy kids desktop social networking game Club Penguin. Becoming head of mobile or something like that for the most iconic entertainment company ever could a vaulted-enough position to entice Spiegel. I could see him being a Disney CEO candidate one day.

What about walking in the footsteps of Steve Jobs? Apple isn’t social. It failed so badly with efforts like its Ping music listeners network that it’s basically abdicated the whole market. iMessage and its cutesy Animoji are its only stakes. Meanwhile, it’s getting tougher and tougher to differentiate with mobile hardware. Each new iPhone seems closer to the last. Apple has resorted to questionable decisions like ditching the oft-missed headphone jack and reliable TouchID to keep the industrial design in flux.

Increasingly, Apple must rely on its iOS software to compete for customers with Android headsets. But you know who’s great at making interesting software? Snapchat. You know who has a great relationship with the next generation of phone owners? Snapchat. And do you know whose CEO could probably smile earnestly beside Tim Cook announcing a brighter future for social media unlocked by two privacy-focused companies joining forces? Snapchat. Plus, think of all the fun Snapple jokes?

There’s a chance to take revenge on Facebook if Snapchat wanted to team up with Mark Zuckerberg’s old arch nemesis Google . After Zuck declared “Carthage must be destroyed”, Google+ flopped and its messaging apps became a fragmented mess. Alphabet has since leaned away from social networking. Of course it still has the juggernaut that is YouTube — a perennial teen favorite alongside Snapchat and Instagram. And it’s got the perfect complement to Snap’s ephemerality in the form of Google Photos, the best-in-class permanent photo archiving tool. With the consume side of Google+ shutting down after accidentally exposing user data, Google still lacks a traditional social network where being a friend comes before being a fan.

What Google does have is a reputation for delivering the future. From Waymo’s self-driving cars to Calico’s plan to make you live forever, Google is an inventive place where big ideas come to fruition. Spiegel could frame Google as aligned with its philosophy of creating new ways to organize and consume information that adapt to human behavior. He surely wouldn’t mind being lumped in with Internet visionaries like Larry Page and Sergei Brin. Google’s Android expertise could reinvigorate Snap in emerging markets. And together they could take a stronger swing at Facebook.

But there are problems with all of these options. Buying Snap would be a massive bet for Disney, and Snap’s lingering bad rap as a sexting app might dissuade Mickey Mouse’s overlords. Apple rarely buys such late-stage public companies. CEO Tim Cook has been able to take the moral high ground because Apple makes its money from hardware rather than off of  personal info through ad targeting. If Apple owned Snap, it’d be in the data exploitation business just like everyone else.

And Google’s existing dominance in software might draw the attention of regulators. The prevailing sentiment is that it was a massive mistake to let Facebook acquire Instagram and WhatsApp, as it centralized power and created a social empire. With Google already owning YouTube, the government might see problems with it buying one of the other most popular teen apps.

That’s why I think Netflix could be a great acquirer for Snap. They’re both video entertainment companies at the vanguard of cultural relevance, yet have no overlap in products. Netflix already showed its appreciation for Snapchat’s innovation by adopting a Stories-like vertical video clip format for discovering and previewing what you could watch. The two could partner to promote Netflix Originals and subscriptions inside of Snapchat. Netflix could teach Snap how to win at exclusive content while gaining a place to distribute video that’s under 20 minutes long.

With a $130 billion market cap, Netflix could certainly afford it. Though since Netflix already has $6 billion in debt from financing Originals, it would have to either sell more debt or issue Netflix shares to Snapchat’s owners. But given Netflix’s high-flying performance, massive market share, and cultural primacy, the big question is whether Snap would drag it down.

So how much would it potentially cost? Snap’s market cap is hovering around $8.8 billion with a $6.28 share price. That’s around its all-time low and just over a quarter of its IPO pop share price high. Acquiring Snap would surely require paying a premium above the market cap. Remember, Google already reportedly offered to acquire Snap for $30 billion prior to its final funding round and IPO. But that was before Snap’s growth rate sunk and it started losing the Stories War to Facebook. A much smaller offer could look a lot prettier now.

Social networks are hard to kill. If Snap can cut costs, fix its product, improve revenue per users, and score some outside investment, it could survive and slowly climb. If Twitter is any indication, aging social networks can reflower into lucrative businesses given enough time and product care. But if Snapchat wants to play in the big leagues and continue having a major influence on the mobile future, it may have to snap out of the idea that it can win on its own.

Via Josh Constine https://techcrunch.com

[jackfollmanwriter-blog]

The Great Gatsby Killings

I will never understand why Instagram will remove the photo or profile of a #bodystagramer because they post a picture of half their ass, but won’t take down profiles which celebrate the work of infamous serial killers. What I also will never understand, is my inability to not click on these violent Instagram profiles whenever I accidently stumble on one, lying in my bed at 1 a.m., trying to bore myself to sleep.

A few months back I ended up not boring myself, but falling into a cold pit of fear when I scrolled through the endless Instagram images related to notorious crimes in my hometown of LA.

I skimmed through the usual suspects - The Black Dahlia, The Night Stalker, The Freeway Killer, The Manson Family, Sharon Tate - I already knew everything there was to know. No need to waste time on them. I was just about to leave the profile, but then a picture of something I was familiar with caught my eye...my grandma’s house.

Tucked up into the highest folds of the Los Feliz hills in what was the fanciest part of LA back in the 20s, my grandma’s house was the subject of much old Hollywood lore, but most of the family never believed it. There was talk the house used to belong to a glamorous movie star from the 40s. One of those actresses with an old-school name like Gladys or Mabel, who someone’s grandpa’s would probably rave about.

There had never been tales or rumors about anything sinister being tied to the house though. Seeing the image of my grandma’s pale yellow house with the pointed roof and immaculate front yard lined with rose bushes on a profile celebrating murders was a true shock in the middle of the night.

I read through the copy next to the photo of my grandma’s house with my breath held.

This house at 3918 North Luker Street is the site of of the mysterious LA Gatsby Killings of 1947.

Due to a court case won by the current owner and inhabitant, the records of the case and the location were sealed for 60 years and were opened just a month ago to reveal the address and the full details of the case.

I dove into researching the LA Gatsby Killings of 1947. Here is just about word-for-word what I found on a blog.

The LA Gatsby Killings of 47 have long been shrouded in mystery, but the 60 year ribbon being taken off the case has finally shed some light on the rampant rumors which have swirled around the murders that took place, and the house which still rests at 3918 North Luker.

The case file confirms that a large party took place on October 31,1947. In the morning, the owner of the house, and heir to a manufacturing fortune, Abigail Hanover, my grandmother, called the police to report that she woke up to find the dead bodies of four partygoers in the bar room of the mansion.

The officers who arrived said they found four bodies which had passed away in the night and fallen to the floor. An investigation later revealed that the four - three men and one woman - had been poisoned. The exact source of poisoning was never determined.

Abigail’s story was that it was a very large party, around 50 people, that went well into the night and she retired upstairs to her bedroom around 1 in the morning while a mix of about 10 people, whom she did not know well (including the four victims), were wrapping up. Drunk and tired, Abigail said they could finish their drinks before they went as long as they locked the door on their way out. She woke the next morning to find the dead bodies and called the police.

This was the outlaw days of the 40s when people thought there was no way a rich, white woman could have killed four people. The police reportedly didn’t even question Abigail and only did a light investigation into into the crime. The three male victims were confirmed to be involved in the heroin trade and the female victim, Jessica Lucas, had been arrested multiple times on prostitution charges. Abigail admitted getting drunk and letting the party swell with far too many unsavory characters she didn’t really know and told the officers she was embarrassed about the whole thing and really just wanted it to go away.

However, an LA Times reporter conducted his own investigation and discovered from neighbors and the few acquaintances she maintained that Abigail Hanover was an immensely private woman who never had parties, whom they had only seen a few times. The reporter also discovered that Abigail only had one living, documented family member, a brother who lived in New York, whom she had not seen in more than 10 years.

Abigail went after The Times once the first story was written about the case and won a court decision which barred the publication from further investigation because she had been cleared by the police. This stopped the The Times from being able to publically report any further information about the case, but it did not stop the reporter from investigating privately.

What the reporter learned privately over the next 10 years would end up deepening the mystery and eventually earn it the “Gatsby Murders” moniker.

The reporter was able to document his findings in a long out-of-print zine called Crime Noir Vault. The articles are not available online, but I found them in the media archives at the LA library.

After Abigail’s brother passed away, his children took Abigail to court to try and get her half of the family inheritance, because they believed her to be an imposter. They believed the Abigail who was living in 3918 North Luker was actually Jessica Lucas, the prostitute who supposedly died from poisoning at the party and that Jessica had poisoned Abigail.

The family revealed that Abigail was a closeted homosexual. Her sexuality was actually the main reason she distanced herself from all family and most friends. Her deeply religious brother told the children the reason he cut himself off from her was that he discovered she regularly used the services of prostitutes. They believed Jessica Lucas was one of those prostitutes and that Jessica hatched a plan to swap identities with Abigail so she could assume her identity, home and fortune. The two women had a striking resemblance and the children believed Jessica relied on the incompetence of law enforcement and forensics of the time to allow her to pull it off. The children argued Jessica poisoned the real Abigail along with a few male flunkies to tie the crime to the drug trade so the cops would be more inclined to write it off.

And it worked. Abigail (Jessica) won her court case against the family. She kept her money and mansion.

Abigail (Jessica) married shortly after the murders and had a son (my dad) and daughter. She reportedly still lives in the house to this day alone as her husband passed away in the 70s and she never remarried.

My mind was blown in a way I never thought it could be. My grandma was an imposter? And a murderer?

I didn’t even know how to absorb the news. I thought about calling my parents and asking if they had ever heard anything about it. Thought they could maybe offer some reassurance, but decided against it. I didn’t want to blow up their worlds until I could get a little more concrete information. The whole thing could have been Internet bullshit.

I actually had the perfect chance to do so coming up in the morning. The next day was my weekly day of serving as my grandma’s nurse, at her house, at 3918 North Luker.

92 years-old and barely able to move, my grandma required 24-hour assistance, seven days a week. Being the superstar grandchild that I was, I offered to handle the task of caring for my grandma one day a week to give her usual caregivers a break and to bond with her. Well...and she gave me $500 every time that I did it.

All I usually did was eat three meals with my grandma, read the newspaper and paperback novels during the day, watch the news and some game shows at night and put her to bed. Once my grandma was in bed, I watched shows on my tablet and texted with friends until I went to sleep in the guest room and left early the next morning.

*

I was on just a few hours of restless sleep when I used the heavy, lion head-shaped door knocker on the front door of my grandma’s house and waited for her to come to the door. The snarling tongue of the iron lion seemed to take on a menacing quality this gray, November morning in LA as morbid thoughts swirled in my brain.

I heard the familiar sound of my grandma’s stair lift slowly transporting her down the steep flight of stairs which connected the first and second story of the house. The chair lift was the only way my feeble grandmother could get up and down the stairs.

I heard the chair grind to a halt and soon looked at my 98-pound grandma through the open door of her house.

She greeted me with a hug which felt just a little bit hollow for the first time.

*

Breakfast and lunch went by as usual. I wasn’t able to force out a passive attempt to bring up the story from the Instagram account, but the three glasses of chardonnay I downed at dinner made sure the third meal of the day would not pass without bringing it up.

I coughed my way into the confrontation...

“Uh, ahaha, so grandma...I saw this really crazy thing on this site that’s like Facebook, called Instagram. It, uh, had photos of haunted places in LA and places where people were murdered, and I saw, uh, your house, this house, on it.”

My face was as red as one of those cherry lollipops you get with the bill at a Mexican restaurant when I looked up across the long dining room table at my grandma. She stopped picking through her salad.

“That’s funny,” my grandma answered back with a flat tone.

“Yeah, it said this thing about how four people were poisoned here in 1947. The whole thing sounded made up. Did you ever hear about that? Or see anything about it?” I pressed on.

“Yeah, there was a bunch of crap about that. They had the wrong house. It was the house four doors down. The Wainwright’s live there now,” my grandma explained and turned her attention back to her salad.

I let it go. I took my grandma’s answer as good enough. I think my brain really just wanted her excuse to be true, despite knowing the amount of detail in the Instagram post and blog showed that there was no way it was just the “wrong house.”

I figured I needed to wade into this thing like cold water at the beach - step-by-step and inch-by-inch. There was no real reason to be worried or in a hurry. If the whole thing was true, it just meant that I was l would eventually inherit some money I didn’t deserve from someone who didn’t deserve it from someone who stole it from someone who didn’t deserve it.

*

Those tall glasses of chardonnay and the gin and tonic I topped them off with sent me to bed just a few minute after my grandma’s 9 p.m. bedtime. I was tucked into the luxurious king size bed with silk sheets (another reason I didn’t mind my caretaker duties) and fighting off sleep by the time 9:30 rolled around.

But that boozy sleep would not last. A swollen bladder woke me just a few sweaty hours later and I found myself rustling in the bed in the dark.

I started to fight that childhood battle of burning bladder vs. childish fear. I desperately needed to pee and take a couple Advil out of my purse, but I was petrified of the dark cavernous hall which led out of the guest room and towards the nearest bathroom.

The battle raged for a few minutes until a grinding sound outside of the door took over the fear department in my brain. I knew the sound as soon as I heard it. It was my grandma’s stair lift - rattling and rumbling around the hallway outside my door.

Was my grandma riding her chair in the middle of the night?

I got up out of bed and headed for the door to the hallway.

I threw the door open and watched the empty cushioned chair of my grandma’s stair lift slowly roll past my door and head back in the direction of the stairs. I breathed a brief sigh of relief, but it was short lived.

Maybe she had taken it downstairs and fallen off and now it was rolling around on its own?

I followed the chair lift down the stairs and found no sign of my grandma. The thing probably just turned on accidently. I started to search around the track on the ground floor to see if I could find its home base where I could turn it off.

I managed to lose track of the chair during my first floor investigation. I had never noticed it before, but the chair looked to snake around the west wing of the first floor where I rarely went. I followed its metal tracks around the corner of the foyer and into a hall that led to a dining room and prep room that were never used.

The chair’s path seemed strange to me. I was surprised my grandma rigged it up to go all the way down a hallway I assume she never went into.

I followed.

I flicked on a light as soon as I got into the hallway and noticed an open door to the left just before the end. It seemed like the sounds of the chair’s gears grinding were coming from in there. The little prep room which connected to the formal dining room.

I followed.

I stopped just inside the doorway and tried the light switch in the little prep room, but it didn’t work.

I squinted in the dark and made out what looked to be the bookcase I was accustomed to see in the room, turned sideways as if someone had pulled it away from the wall. The gap in the wall the bookcase left looked to open into another little room I had never seen before.

A horrible feeling rumbled in my gut. Like that flushing drop to the pit of your stomach you get not long after eating something rotten.

I fought back the fear. I figured at this point that if someone, or something, had something sinister in mind for me, they would have already done it. If anything, going into this dark, secret room was going to give me information which may be useful.

I followed.

The scent of thick perfume came over me as soon as I walked into the room. I instantly sneezed, twice, and it delayed me taking in the room for a few moments.

The room slowly came into focus in the soft light provided by a flickering candle in the corner. Just left of the candle was a vanity mirror, perched on top of an ornate counter. Seated in front of the counter on a velvet stool was who I recognized as a younger version of my grandma.

I watched for a few chilly seconds as she combed her hair while staring at herself in mirror - showing not an ounce of recognition of someone else in the room.

“That damn thing,” I heard a groggy voice call out from behind me.

I literally jumped up into the air and screamed as loudly as I ever had in my entire life.

I gathered my bearings in an instant and spun around to see the shadow of my present day, elderly grandmother wobbling in the doorway to the hidden room.

I looked back around the room in a flash and saw no candle, no mirror and no younger version of my grandma combing her hair.

“That thing keeps acting up and riding around the house all night for no reason,” my grandma went on as she stumbled out of the doorway and back towards the prep room.

I tried to put things back together in my head for a moment, but couldn’t even get close. The room I was standing in was now just a dusty, empty room with a cold floor on my bare feet.

“Funny the thing found it’s way in there,” my grandma’s voice faded away as she walked away.

I followed my grandma out of the room.

“I have the chair stored in the old secret powder room so the ugly thing is out of sight most of the time and it must have decided to head back home after roaming around all night. I guess you had never actually been in there. Your grandpa loved it for drinks, but I had no use it for it so I never used it,” my grandma went on.

I made my way out of the prep room and into the hallway where my grandma was speaking from, but she was no longer there.

I stopped in the hallway and listened to her little feet trot up the stairs, back towards her bedroom and the guest room where I slept.

“Try to get back to bed and get some sleep dear,” I heard my grandma call down.

“Actually, if it’s okay. I think I might go home to get some more sleep. I have a work event in the morning,” I called back.

I waited for a few moments before I heard a response back from my grandma.

“That’s fine...but you know...sometimes it’s best to let secrets lie, if they work in your favor.”

I choked on my tongue. Tried to form a coherent response, but could only get out noises.

“Uh, um, uh, yeah.”

“Good night,” my grandma’s voice echoed from upstairs before I heard her bedroom close and I ran outside to get into my car.

*

I didn’t actually have a work event the next morning. I just slept in until almost noon since I barely got any sleep the night before. I turned off my phone so I wouldn’t get any texts, emails or notifications which would shake me from my much-needed slumber.

I was shocked when I turned on my phone, felt it vibrate and heard it ding for what felt like two full minutes before it calmed down. I woke it up and looked to see my home screen flooded with little notification indicators.

The first piece of communication I cued up was a voicemail. Judging by the familiar sobs of my mother which greeted me as soon as the recording started, whatever prompted all this communication was not good.

“It’s your mom. I hate to have to call you and tell you this, but your grandma passed away last night. Just, call me as soon as you get this and we can talk. I’m sorry.”

*

I called my mom back. She knew I stayed the night before at grandma’s and she had a lot of questions. The authorities would likely have some questions, but they could get to that when I got to my parents’ house across town.

I decided to go to my parents’ house as soon as possible, but needed to clean myself up a little bit first. My hair was particularly a mess and my hoodie had drool on it from the night before.

I started to take my hoodie off to change into something clean, but stopped. I felt something hard in one of the pockets. I reached in and pulled out the item.

Looking back at me was a golden comb, worn with age. I marvelled at it for a few moments and noticed an inscription, in cursive, on the handle - JL.

I looked into the mirror in front of me and smiled.

I put the comb to my head and started to fix my hair.

*

There weren’t a lot of questions for me from family or the authorities. I told them I had too much to drink at dinner and both of us fell asleep a little early.

I told them I woke up around 1 a.m. because I was sobering up and thought it would be easier to go sleep at home, so I headed home without talking to my grandma. I didn’t get the news until I received my mom’s message just before noon.

I thought about telling them about the incident with the chair and the secret parlor, but held back, especially because of a key piece of information the coroner shared with my parents which they shared with me.

The coroner assured my parents that my grandma passed away not long after she went to bed, just after 9 p.m.

Did I tell my parents that I saw my grandma walking around, hours later, after 1 a.m? I thought about it for a bit, but decided against it.

Sometimes it’s best to let secrets lie if they work in your favor.

Originally published by Thought Catalog on www.ThoughtCatalog.com.