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limarkova · 7 days ago

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Yandere Batfam x Neglected Reader x Yandere Al Ghuls

Pt 9

Author's note: Hey guys! I promise I have not disappeared my school semester is just kicking up and I'm focusing on that. Anyway I started up a Ko-Fi so you want to you can leave a tip. Link is my bio. As always thank you for reading my work and all the engagement. Writing this has been oddly therapeutic so I'm glad that someone is enjoying it.

The Library was once again quiet as you walked in. One of the librarian nodded to you as you strolled by. Quietly opening your bag, you returned some of the books you got the other day. A part of you still felt buzzy and hollow. The strange tickling feel lingered in your chest like a bad habit. A part of you felt like that feeling was going be there forever and you hated that. You were saved from it when you caught sight of your investigation notebook inside your bag the feeling changed.

The tingling shifted into a burning rage that smoldered in the pit of your being. Filling the hollow space inside of you with venomous smoke. It killed the small pieces of hope that said your 'family' was telling the truth, that they didn't know. The smoke took the hollowness away. You loved the rage for that, embracing it like life-line.

Turning to the study areas in the back you moved to the one you used yesterday. Talia wasn't there yet. In the isolated part of the library, you began to update your journal.

First you scraped your orginial list. Things were changing, you couldn't punish the whole family. No it wouldn't be fair to those who were involved. Plus you knew you needed to hone your intentions from experience. Even though you could have gone after all the scientists and guards during your escape, you focused on the exit instead to ensure you got out. It had more you more efficient. That's what you needed here.

Obviously there was Bruce simply because he had to have approved the whole thing. You wrote Bruce Wayne at the top left of the page. Under his name you wrote the evidence you did have, the financial records. You thought back on the past days than wrote down, "Past injuries to Robins/Allies=Motive?"

On the right side of the paper you wrote Richard Grayson. Under his name you wrote attempted to get information, admitted to knowing boarding school was a lie, was one of four to know 'real' boarding school location. Thinking a bit you decided to add "potential motive= over protective of allies/ Jason's death?"

Halfway down the page under Bruce's name you wrote Alfred Pennyworth. Beneath it you wrote pretty much the same thing as Dick; knew about the boarding school and was one of four to know real location. Afterwards you wrote "painfully loyal to Bruce. Would have information on what happened? Motive=Unclear."

On right side of the page and on the same lines as Alfred you wrote, Cassandra Cain/Wayne. Under her name you wrote "Choose the 'boarding school'. May have read investigation journal. Spied on me two years before kidnapping." For motive you simple drew a question mark. You honestly had no clue why she would have chosen to help Bruce with the experiments.

You considered adding Barbara but stopped yourself. Yes this morning had been a lot but the signs on her were mixed. If she was acting the part much like Dick was than she was just as dangerous to interact with. Yet if she wasn't and genuinely wanted to help than maybe she would be a good source of information. She might be a good source either way. You'd leave her off the list for now.

Turning the page you had just barely written out Edward Davis and Clint Owen when someone cleared their throat. Closing the notebook, you saw Talia standing at the entrance of the study area. Giving her your best easy going smile you greeted her, "Hello Ms.Talia"

"Hello dear. How are you doing today?" She set her bag down on the table. It let out a soft thud when she set it down. You guess she had learning tools in it. That or books, it was a library after all.

You nodded to her and began to pull out different notebook. Tucking your investigation notes away for bow. She watched the exchange with a raised eyebrow. Her mouth quirked to the side and she tilted her head towards your bag. A nervous laugh left your mouth, "Yeah, I'm doing okay. Sorry this one's my diary, don't think I should mix personal problems with Arabic notes."

"Oh, I'm glad you journal. It's good for development." She gave you that mother's smile she had. Something in you preened at the look but it was under cut by your own sarcastic thoughts. 'Would she be proud if she knew what it was really for?'

She gestured behind her to someone hidden just out of sight from the little alcove. "I have someone I want you to meet."

A man stepped into view. He was slightly taller than Jason but not by much. His hair appeared to be well groomed, almost like it was permanently styled. Parts of his hair were white, not in the salt and pepper white of aging but in a way that felt intentional. His features were stoic and calm. Something about him reminded you of half your family. Maybe it was sure footing or the steady stance but you knew he was trained to fight.

Yet that wasn't what stopped your brain. He was familiar. Not in the I've seen him on the street before way but in a deeper, I've known you in the past way. It felt like something in you cracked it's eyes open. That hidden part of you whispered to watch, to learn, to leave. Need this new thing in you be quiet you spoke quickly, "I'm sorry but have we met before?"

Talia blinked looking at the man. He also gave a slight look of surprise that disappeared quickly. Whatever their reactions were it was enough to get that part of you to quiet down. Tension left your body as you watched how the man would respond. There was an edge to his smile that told you he was impressed, "I don't believe we have. My name is Ra's Al Ghul, I am Talia's father."

"I'm (Fake Name). Are you one of the material art teachers Ms.Talia mentioned?" You held your hand out to him. If he was slightly impressed before he was completely impressed now.

Shaking your hand he asked, "How could you tell?"

You thought for a minute before answering, "The way you stand. Everyone I know who has had extensive training of some kind stands a certain way. Almost like they can't help but do it automatically."

That seemed to be the right answer. Both him and Talia shared a look. Ra's gave a subtle nod that made Talia's smirk grow the smallest but. She lifted an eyebrow as if to say 'watch' before clapping her hands once.

"Well than, after your lessons today my father will show you some of the basics." Talia offered, pulling things out of her bag. You looked at the items intrigued, it seemed to be learning aid for a different alphabet. An eager smile crossed your lips as you readied your notebook.

Jason leaned against his motorcycle holding a kid sized helmet. A cigarette hung out of his lips as he waited, watching the library doors like a hawk. Roy was nearby on his own bike. Neither one of them spoke.

Finally (Name) came out from the library. She was clutching her backpack looking around the space. When her eyes caught on him, she got a confused look. Jason put out his cigarette, gesturing for her to come over. "Hey kiddo."

"What are you doing here?" She walked up to him. Her body was angled away from him. A habit she seemed to have picked up with everyone.

Jason shrugged, "Tim told me to pick you up. Didn't he text you or something?"

Her face slackened before she bluntly stated, "I don't have a phone."

"Shit, did that get stolen too?" Jason rolled his eyes. Of course her kidnappers would take her phone, that was kidnapping 101. Maybe they could track it down to try find some evidence.

She gave he an absurd look, "No. I've never had a phone."

"The fuck..." Jason rubbed his eyes. Bruce was going to send you to a foreign country without a phone. No fucking wondered she got kidnapped. He tossed her the helmet, "Okay, we're fixing that. Put the helmet on let's go."

"And where are we going to?" She caught the helmet but didn’t put it on. In fact she gave it a strange look before turning her gaze back to him. Her look told him she didn't trust him. That wasn't good, he needed her to trust him.

Before he could answer, Roy spoke up. Jason couldn't tell he wanted to punch Roy or thank him for what left his mouth, "We're gonna go get lunch than see if we can max out your Dad's credit card."

"Sorry what?"

"Yeah, take you phone shopping than grab whatever else you need. Or want honestly." Roy snubbed out his own cigarette before lazily stretching. (Name) looked at the helmet for second before looking back to Jason and Roy. Jason could see consideration in her eyes.

"Can I get one those fake nose piercing things with the magnet to give Bruce a heart attack?" She gave them a sweet guilty smile and batted her eyelashes. Jason snorted, trying not laugh. Roy didn't care and double over laughing.

Of course her first thought was how to piss off Bruce with this. There was a surge pride in his chest. She gave him a hald assed shrug. Jason gave in to the laughter, "Fuck. You are my sister!"

"Hell yeah, let's go!" Roy pulled himself together enough to get on his bike. Jason gestured for her to put on the helmet and hop on. He secured her in the seat behind where he would sit before hopping on himself. After giving her a quick safety brief, they were flying down the highway.

The rest of the Outlaws were waiting for them at a Burrito Buck down by Jason's apartment. He lived relatively close to Crime Alley so if her goal was give Bruce a heart attack he was helping already. Everyone was passing around greasy Mexican food when him, Roy and (Name) pulled in. Jason could feel his phone going crazy in his jacket pocket. Handing his sister over to Roy he pulled out his phone to see what was going on.

4 missed calls from B

7 missed calls from Dick🖕

2 missed calls from Cyber Stalker

8 missed calls from Human Flashlight

3 missed calls from Murder Germlin

4 missed calls from Purple Chick

1 text unread message from Tim.

Jason sighed running his hands through his hair. What the fuck could have happened for them to be calling this much. Just when he was about to call one of them back he saw the preview of Tim's text. "She doesn't want to see Bruce" the rest of the message was faded out. Jason went to click the notification when his phone started ringing again.

"Great..." Jason rolled his eyes. His phone blaring a custom ringtone warning that his brother was calling. Pressing answer he launched right into it, "What do you want, Dick?"

"Where are you? You were supposed to be back by now? Is (Name) with you?" Dick panicked voice came out of the phone. Jason almost rolled his eyes again. This is what got them all panicking. Did they seriously not trust him with her?

"Yeah, (Name) with me. She said she was hungry so we stopped to get food." Jason shrugged moving towards the restaurant's window. He could see Roy leading his sister to the table. Kori immediately got up to hug her but was pulled back by Artemis.

"Dude, we were going to take her to get lunch before doing a family day." Dick half whined in his ear.

Jason paused. He racked his memory for when someone mentioned a family day but couldn’t come up with anything really. "Hold up. When did you guys decide to do a family day?"

"This morning at breakfast. Steph pointed out that (Name) and Duke have never been apart of a family day. So we decided to have one." Dick said it like it was the most obvious thing ever.

Jason popped his jaw to relieve the tension that shot through his body. He had a sneaking suspicion that he wasn't the one picking her up he wouldn't have been invited. Rolling his neck he sarcastically drawled out, "Okay. So when were you going invite me?"

There was a heavy pause. Dick said the words like he handling a bomb, "when you got here with (Name)?"

"Alright." Jason smirked to himself. If they wanted (Name) they have to find her. He knew his phone location was scrambled, a habit he picked up somewhere. "We're at the Red Lobster in the Heights. Haven't placed our order yet so if you wanna join in be my guest."

"The Heights? Dude what are you doing over there?" Dick asked. Jason didn't have to hide his mischievous smirk. The family would lose their shit on him for this but he didn't care.

"Didn't the one by the manor close down. Beside this one has the best cheddar biscuits."

"Just stay there we'll be there in 10 minutes." Dick said before hanging up. Jason nodded his head and clicked his tongue. He was going to have so much fun today. Turning his phone off, he went inside the Burrito Bucket.

His sister was sitting next to Roy listen to him tell a story. She had a taco in hand nodding along to what he was saying, sour cream stuck in the corner of her mouth. She giggled as Roy finished his story, "Yeah so after leaving me in a Denny's Bathroom for 30 minutes without pants, the dude had the audacity to sit there showing me photos."

"What story did you just tell her?" Jason squeezed into the booth with the rest of the Outlaws. One look around the table told he really didn't want to know. Everyone at the table had a shit eating grin. His sister let out a devious little giggle. He started to hope it wasn't an inappropriate one.

"You left him in a Denny's without pants to go and watch my 2nd grade science competition?" She sounded half shocked and half amused.

Jason groaned face palming. Oh course it was that story. Roy would never let him live it down, "Please tell me you didn't tell her why you were pantless in a Denny's Bathroom."

The Outlaws started to laugh. It was Artemis that responded to (Name)'s question, "He's done shit like that to all of us. He had Bizarro fly him back to Gotham leaving me somewhere in the Amazon Rainforest for a Christmas recital."

Bizarro nodded with a huge smile, "He did not."

"Yeah, and than he'll sit there showing us pictures of the event he ditched us for." Roy laughed before taking a bite of his burrito. Jason was hiding his face behind his hand. Sometimes he forgot that the Outlaws loved to embarrass him.

(Name) turned to him. Her expression was a mix of confused and happy. His heart dropped at she said, "I thought you didn't show up to any of those cause you hated me."

Jason blinked looking at her. He had shown up but stayed hidden from her. He was dangerous to be around, he knew that much. Yet he couldn't stop himself from wanting to be there. He sighed pulling her into a side hug. She tensed but let him, "B depends on the day of the week honestly, but you never."

She looked up at him with bright eyes, the small amount of sour cream still stuck to the corner of her mouth. He grabbed a napkin and wiped it away.

Maybe it was parental instinct, that made Roy keep an eye on the girl. She was close in age to Lian. Whatever it was he was glad he did. (Name) showed startling signs of PTSD. From the hypervigilance to disassociation to increase anxiety, shame, sadness and aggression. It was made worse knowing the family she was in. The Wayne's would support her but it was unlikely she'd get the professional help she desperately needed.

They had gone to a mall with a phone store to get her set up. Kori and Jason's Sister were up ahead of them talking. Suddenly there was a squeal of excitement from the little one and she bolted ahead. Kori shrugged, "She saw something she likes."

With that Kori ran ahead to keep an eye on her. Roy stopped Jason before he jog to catch up to the girls. The vigilante seemed confused when Roy stopped him. Taking a deep breath Roy began, "You need to get your sister help."

"What?" Jason gave Roy a weird look. The two look at each for a moment. Roy took a deep breath, not a great way to start this conversation. Still he pushed forward.

"You and your family have a bad habit of just toughing through your mental health issues." Roy placed a hand on Jason's shoulder. He continued on, "Yes, you all support each other but when it comes to the more serious stuff all of you tend to just destroy yourselves. She doesn't deserve that. If you get her actual therapy and help than she has a chance of being normal. Or at least not implode on herself."

"Dude she'll be fine. I'm gonna keep her safe from now on." Jason shoved Roy away from him. Roy watched as Jason walked towards her with a sinking feeling. This didn't feel right. If (Name) didn't get the help she deserved, he could only imagine the path she'd end up going down.

They found her and Kori at the pound's adoption in the mall set up. The two girls were currently playing with a small cat. The paper displayed said the kitten was a russet dark ginger cat named Churro. (Name) looked up at them with wide begging eyes, "Can we keep him?"

"B told Damian no more animals." Jason sighed shaking his head. The little girl's face dropped slight before morphing into a pleading smile. Roy looked over to Jason who had a contemplating look.

"He told Damian no more animals. He has literally never said anything to me." She spoke in an pleading tone, pulling Churro closer to her. It was adorable to watch but the last sentence caught Roy's attention. He couldn't explain what it was about it, the tone or the wording. That hurt seemed to be coming back with a slight rage.

"I don't know. I don't think it's safe to drive with a cat and a kid on the back of a motorcycle." Jason scratched his head. She looked down at Churro in despair. The kitten mewled before nuzzling into her arms. She gave it a little kiss to the forehead, giggling when the cat began to paw at her hair.

"I can watch her well you go get the car from your apartment." Roy offered to Jason. He could tell she was emotional attached to the kitten. Maybe it would help her when her world felt like too much. Similar to how he use to hold Lian when his world was too much.

Jason sighed before rolling his eyes. "Okay fine let me fill out the paperwork real quick."

Once Jason was gone to get the car, Roy sat next to the girl. She was petting Churro who was curled up in her lap. Kori was currently talking with the adoption lady about the different cats. Roy nudged her once, "Hey kiddo. Can I see your phone?"

She stopped petting Churro to consider him cautiously. Roy gave her a reassuring smile feeling his chest tighten. Finally she handed him her phone. He put his secondary number Jason didn't know about in her contacts as 'Uncle Will.' He than add his main number to her contacts under his real name.

"There. Now you can call me anytime you need something from this number." He pointed at his contact with his thumb showing her the screen. He than showed her the Uncle Will contact, "This one you can call if you are ever in a situation where you need a pick up no questions ask. All you have to do is press Call and say hey Uncle Will I got your message. The only thing I'll is where are you and are you safe, okay?"

"Why are you giving me this?" She took her phone back looking at the new contacts. Due to it being a new phone those contacts and Jason's were the only ones there. She had insisted on not getting any of her other family members numbers.

"I've made a lot of mistakes around your age." Roy rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. Saying it felt like a understatement, he had taken part in massive fuck ups. Looking at (Name) reminded him that angry kid though, "I like to imagine if I had someone I though would pick me up no questions asked, I wouldn't have made at least a quarter of them. So if I can get you out of at least one dangerous situation, I'll consider it a win."

"Okay, but why give this to me?" She gestured towards herself with the phone.

Roy thought for a minute. He wasn't certain what was making him reach out to her. Maybe it was guilt for his past mistake or the little kid he use to be reflecting in the girl. Whatever it was may this necessary. So he decided to give her what he had wanted, "Because something tells you just want someone in your corner that cares regardless of what happens."

She blinked her face turning into a sad form of shock. Looking at the phone, she smiled. Roy considered reaching out to hug her. Yet before he could her face fell into a resigned melancholia. "Thanks, I guess."

"Come on, I have a great idea for giving Bruce a heart attack." He stood from the bench gesturing to a beauty store nearby, "I think that store has a hair dye called Arsenal Red."

That got her to smile. Roy sighed to himself slightly, hoping everything would turn out okay.

Taglist:

@stove-top96 @00hellohello00 @mysticalhills @yhin-gg @twismare @charlenexoxo1 @a-lurking-fae @moondust-clouds @darkumbreon92 @jsprien213 @bellethesleepypotato @time-shardz @randomlyappearingartist @kittzu @bat1212 @vanilliona

@welpthisisboring @plsfckmedxddy @tulnukaz @eyeless-kun @daisy56789 @dandelion-delusion @damianwayneisthebestrobin

@crazycaoticsimp @sirenetheblogger @1nternetc4t @lilithskywalker @jamespotterfan @fandomly-obsessed @itsberrydreemurstuff @bad4amficideas @wpdarlingpan @type-ink @wrenbirde @shadowytravelerlover @lunayaps @magdelenacarmila @tsxukikami

The taglist is temporary closed! Thank you guys for reading.

#yandere batfam x neglected reader #villian reader #yandere bruce wayne #yandere dick grayson #yandere jason todd #yandere tim drake #yandere damian wayne #yandere duke thomas #yandere barbara gordon #yandere cassandra cain #yandere stephanie brown #yandere ra's al ghul #yandere talia al ghul #no beta we die like jason todd #no beta we die like men

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futbolfatale · 4 months ago

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School stress

Pairing: Lucy Bronze X Reader, Millie Bright X Reader

Tags: School Stress, fully clothed baths, you Acidently water board yourself, Lucy calling reader Mami, Mommy Issues,

Summary: Reader Gets stressed out with school and begins to question her worth.

WordCount: 0.7k

School had always come easy for you, so it was extremely frustrating when a class was hard, which is what led to your current breakdown in your now cold bathtub fully clothed. It's truly not your best moment but it is rather therapeutic. “Mami We are home” Luce’s voice startles you from your haze as you fully begin to take in the scene around. This looks really bad especially because you had just told them how good you were feeling. “Fuck” You mutter trying to strip off your soaking wet clothes and drain the bath at the same time is not a good idea.

As you fall into the bath with your shirt plastered to your face and water trying to suffocate you. Panic fills your chest as you accidentally breathe in some water. You can’t die like this you can already imagine the posts “Deranged girl waterboards herself leading to her death”.

Before you can even try to get out someone is retching you out and laying you on your back. You start to cough up water as Millie pats your back firmly. “It's okay, Mami just breathed. In and out ” Lucy holds your hair back. You cough up the last of the water before sitting up. “What happened,” Millie asks, rubbing slow circles in your back. ‘“Do you think I’m stupid?” You ask, pressing your soaking wet hair out of your face. “Why would We think you are stupid” Millie asks.” Cause that stupid test” You can’t make eye contact with them. “You know those tests don’t show how smart you are and math is a really hard subject. There is no shame in struggling sometimes,” Mill explains, helping you strip out your remaining clothes.

“Is this why you were being so weird this morning?” Luce asks as she and Mills help you into some pajamas. “I wasn’t being weird” you defined as slightly annoyed at her audacity. “You wouldn't get out of bed and you didn’t even drink the coffee I made you” Mills gestures to the long cold cup of coffee on the nightstand. “ Am I not allowed to lie in on my day off?” You defend walking to the cup and taking it into the kitchen, both of them trailing after you. “You are allowed to lie in as much as you want but you didn’t even answer our texts” Luce grabs you from behind wrapping you in a tight hug and pressing her face into your still-wet hair.

“We are just worried about you, if it's this bad maybe you should drop the class” Mills holds both of your hands in hers as she speaks. “ You know I can’t do that” You pull away from both of them and start towards the couch. You just need to be away. They don’t understand what this is like. “ Why because your mom says so” Lucy calls after you are even more annoyed now that you've pushed her away. “I can’t be a quitter.” You flop onto the couch staring up at the ceiling as tears gather in your eyes. “Quitting this one thing doesn’t make you a quitter.” Mills joins you on the couch pulling your feet into her lap and massaging them gently. “She Thinks it does” You can’t bring yourself to look at them. They get this disappointed look on their faces when you talk like this and you can't stand it. “You Don’t need to care what your mom thinks anymore. She isn't your keeper, she isn’t paying for your education, we are and as your partners, we think you should drop the class.” Lucy explains from her spot knelt on the floor in front of you. “I’ll call the college tomorrow and get them to take you out of the class.”.

“You would do that for me” You look between them both the tears that had gathered in your eyes finally falling. “Of course love we would do this and so much more to preserve your mental health you deserve better than this.” Mills stands up and grabs your hands pulling you with her. “How about we go and get a sweet treat.” “I think that sounds really good” You smile as you follow them out to the car.

#woso x reader #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso soccer #woso one shot #woso #lucy bronze #lucy bronze x reader #millie bright x reader

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nieves-de-sugui · 2 years ago

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A Quick History of BL

As someone who wrote a thesis on this very subject a few years ago, here is the short version of how BL has evolved throughout the years. For the new comers ❤

a minute of silence for the original form of this post that tumblr decied to not save right after I saved it

I am going to go with a chronological approach. Unfortunately, I cannot put everything in one post so if there’s any questions about this or that aspect of the history of BL that you want to know and it’s not talked about here, you are welcome to ask me directly :)

Context and influences - Japan in the 60′s

Before the US forced Japan to open its borders to the outside world in the 1800s, homosexual practices were common place between budist monks, samurais and kabuki actors. During the Edo period (1600s to 1800s) there was a very rich amount of poetry, art, books (such as Nanshoku Okagami (The Great Mirror of Male Love) by Ihara Saikaku) and codes of conduct about how to have a good master/aprentice relationship, kinda like the greeks if you know what I mean. However, with the arrival of western influences, in order to become a more “civilized” country, it was all put in the closet.

Yet, in the 60′s Japan started to pick it up again through literature about young androginous beautiful boys (aka bishounen). On one hand, in 1961, the novel Koibitotachi no Mori (A Lover’s Forest) by Mari Mori was published. It tells the story of a young and beautiful 19 year old worker and a half french half japanese aristocrat, and their tragic romance. On the other hand, Taruho Inagaki wrote Shounen ai no Bigaku (The esthetics of boy-love), an essay on aesthetic eroticism (of which he wrote a lot of). All this was know as Tanbi (lit. aesthetic) literature. It generally refered to literature with implied homosexuality and homoeroticism such as works by Oscar Wilde, Jean Cocteau, etc. And of course, Mori and Inagaki.

In chinese tanbi is read as danmei (term used to refer to BL novels in china today, ie: The Untamed it’s all connected friends).

From the birth of Shonen Ai to Yaoi - 70′s to the late 80′s

Around the beginning of the 70′s, shoujo was being revolutionized by the Year 24 Group, a generation of women manga authors (mangaka) who started to explore new themes. Among them, their interest in tanbi gave birth to a new subgenre: Shounen ai.

Their most known manga were:

Kaze to Ki no Uta (The Ballad of the Wind and Trees) by Keiko Takemiya, and Toma no Shinzo (The Heart of Thomas) by Moto Hagio

Their stories are characterized by having suffering eurpoean bishounen in boarding schools, living an idealized perfect love (meaning passionate) that, despite the tragic end of one of them, lives forever in the other.

As this genre starts getting popular, more and more fans of these stories start making their own self published manga, aka doujinshi, of the genre. It is around this time that the term Yaoi is coined. Meaning “YAma nashi, Ochi nashi, Imi nashi” (no climax, no fall, no meaning). Basically PWP fanfiction, for the most part. Doujinshis could be considered an equivalent of fanfiction in manga form. It is also here that the term Fujoshi (aka Rotten Girl, for liking rotten things) starts being used to refer to women readers of yaoi.

With this rise in popularity come the start of the commercialization of the genre. Which meant the publication of magazines dedicated solely to yaoi/shonen ai/BL. The most popular yaoi manga magazine at the time was June. The common trait of their stories being the therapeutic power of the love between the mains. The traumatized character would heal throught this newfound love.

Most of the stories at this time happened in the West (Europe or the States) as the exploration of these dark themes intertwined with homosexual romance and homoeroticism still feel safer to explore as a foreign concept. One example would be Banana Fish (1985).

Commercialization and Yaoi Ronso - 90′s

As more publishing houses pick the genre up, the term Boys Love is used to include every type of manga about homosexuality made for women.

The increasing amount of BL series sees a changes in its themes:

the start of the “gay for you” trope where one mantains their heterosexuality despite being in a homsexual relationship,

the uke/seme dynamic (mirroring hetero realtionships) also relating to physical appearence (one being more feminine, the other being more masculine),

the use of rape as an act love (sexual violence has always been present but here it becomes a staple),

anal sex as the only type of sex,

older and more masculine men start to appear

they now happen in Japan

Good examples of the presence of these themes in manga are Gravitation (1996) or Yatteranneeze (1995).

However in 1992, Masaki Sato (a gay activist/drag queen) wrote a letter in a small scale feminist magazine attacking yaoi and pointing out how it “represented a kind of misappropriation or distortion of gay life that impacted negatively upon Japanese gay men”. The female readers of yaoi responded, defending the genre as a means to escape gender roles and explore sexual themes that was never meant to represent the realities of gay men. This is know as the Yaoi Ronso (Yaoi Debates).

The debate ended with both sides understanding more of each other, with mangakas starting to include queer views in their works. It also started the academic reasearch of BL.

Yet, it is a debate that has been restarted more than once, as it is still relevant despite the evolution of the genre.

more on this on another post

Globalization and coining of BL - 2000′s

By the beginning of the 2000s BL is being sold all over the world (like all manga), and has become a stable industry. We could say it has finally become it’s own genre.

Some of the most well known manga series, to us (in the west), of the time are:

Junjou Romantica 2002 Koi Suru Boukun 2004 Love Pistols 2004 Haru wo Daiteita 1999

all of these have anime adaptations for the curious ones

We also start seeing short anime adaptations or special episodes of the most popular series, with questionable themes, such as: adoptive father x adoptive son (Papa to Kiss in the Dark 2005), father x son’s friend (Kirepapa 2008), etc...

However the themes remain more or less the same. Junjou Romantica’s love story starts with a non-con sex scene by the older one (masc, seme) to the younger one (more feminine, uke) addressed years later in the manga btw. Koi Suru Boukun’s love story is triggered by aphrodisiacs and rape. They’re still very present in the stories but slowly going away. A mangaka that represents this era could be Natsume Isaku (Candy Color Paradox 2010).

Change is slow in Japan. Even though the voices of LGBT+ people started to be taken into account in the genre it is not until later that we see it reflect in the mangas themselves. However, we can already see the start of this in Doukyusei (Classmates) (2006) by Asumiko Nakamura. Also Kinou Nani Tabeta? (2007) which is actually part of a more mature genre: Seinen.

It is my personal (subjective) theory that the BL of this era was the one that got popular outside of Japan, which is why we see lots of references to the themes, tropes and dynamics of this time in today’s BL series.

The LGBTzation of BL and the rise of webtoons - 2010′s to 2020′s

Slowly but surely LGBT characters and themes enter the scene of BL. Existing simultaneously with the previous tropes and themes, we start seeing a shift in these stories. We now see:

characters that identify as gay or some type of queer

discussions about homophobia

more mature themes about life and romance

At the same time as we get the usual love stories with the usual themes, a new trend starts to take over. And we get simultaneously, cute, sometimes questionable but light love stories:

Love Stage 2010 Ashita wa Docchi da! 2011 Kieta Hatsukoi 2019

More profound stories and darker or more complex themes:

Blue Sky Complex 2013 Saezuru Tori wa Habatakanai 2011 (mafias) Given 2013 (suicide) Hidamari ga Kikoeru 2013 (deafness)

And others that adress the queer experience in a more mature way (which might actually fall into the Seinen genre)

Itoshi no Nekokke 2010 (slice of life, queer characters) Smells like Green Spirit 2011 (two ways to deal with a homphobic society) Strange 2014 (relationships between men) Shimanami Tasogare 2015 (an LGBT group helps a closeted gay) Old Fashioned Cupcake 2019 (you know this one 😉) Bokura no Micro na Shuumatsu 2020 (the end of the world)

As queer stories are explored, BL mangakas and mangakas from other genres start to consider more stories about queer people such as the Josei Genderless Danshi ni Aisaretemasu (My Androgynous Boyfriend) (2018) by Tamekou, or the Shoujo Goukon ni Itarra Onna ga Inakatta Hanashi (The story of when I went to a mixer and there were no women) (2021) by Nana Aokawa.

Still, we can see two realities live side by side. Doukyuusei gets adapted into an impactful animated movie in 2016, meanwhile Banana Fish gets an anime adaptation that keeps the homoeroticism but not the homosexuality.

For those who might be interested. Here are some of the authors that represent the first half of this era, where they start to include newer points of view:

Scarlet Beriko, HAYAKAWA Nojiko, KURAHASHI Tomo, OGERETSU Tanaka, Harada, KII Kanna (Stranger by the Sea), etc...

And authors that while keeping classical themes break the stereotypes in a subtle manner:

CTK, ZAKK, Jyanome, Cocomi, Hidebu Takahashi, SUZUMARU Minta, etc...

Mangakas also no longer stick to one genre only. They explore whichever of them they want, from BL to Seinen to others.

ie: Tamekou,

or Asumiko Nakamura

The curious case of Webtoons

With the digitalization of mangas, throught Renta and Lehzin, it has become easier (and more expensive) to access these stories. Korea makes and appearence with their webtoons. Through the lack of piracy protections and the majority of them being digital, manhwa (korean webtoons) sees a rise in popularity. Through the digital medium the influencee can be the influencer.

However, like many other East Asian countries they have consumed BL, without hearing about the conversations about BL. So they end up mantaining the older themes and stereotypes that newer BL is trying to leave behind. Therefore, we end up with a mix of old and new, ie:

Killing Stalking 2016 Cherry Blossoms After Winter 2017 Painter of The Night 2019

Additionally, it is also thanks to the easy access to internet that Omegaverse, with its higher dramatic stakes (that parallel hetero dynamics), enters the mangasphere in 2016. It has grown in popularity ever since.

With the Thai BL Boom of 2020, Japan rediscovers its own BL market and starts investing in it more. Which is why we get live action adaptations of BL manga that was popular years ago (Candy Color Paradox was a manga from 2010), the more recent ones (The End of the World With You) or new anime adaptations (Saezuru Tori wa Habatakanai in 2020).

more on this in my japanese live action BL post

What has it become now? is it BL? ML? or Seinen? Or is it all just gay manga?

It is clear that Shoujo manga (with BL, Josei and Seinen) is exploring queer themes such as gender and sexuality more and more. Japan is interested in this conversation, not only in manga (Genderless fashion). Which brings up the current question in BL studies: Does it make sense to keep these categories?

As a response to BL, ML (Male Love), which is made by gay men for gay men, started happening (around the 70s too). And Bara (gay manga porn) in response to Yaoi. However both gay men and women read BL and ML. We also see other themes being explored through BL, such as friendship (in BL Metamorphose), food (in Kinou Nani Tabeta), male relationships of all kinds (in Strange), and different queer views on life and its challenges (in Shimanami Tasogare). More and more what is LGBT and what is BL is merging, the line is blurred.

Conclusion

BL has been in my life for longer than it hasn't. It is through shoujo and BL that I have come to understand people and romance.

It is flawed, like everything else this life, but it's flourishing in many ways.

The genre feels old and new at the same time.

We can still find shounen ai/tanbi elements in more modern manga (All About J). Or the gay for you in a new light (Itoshi no Nekkoke). Or more educational manga on queer issues (My Brother’s Husband by Gengoroh Tagame). BL has around 50 years of existence but it is also being born anew in Thailand and Korea.

BL manga will continue to evolve in acordance to Japanese tastes, as it is still a local market. Hopefully the korean webtoons that get popular will be the more daring ones in their themes. Who knows where it will go from here? The only thing we know for sure is that it will continue to change. Isn't it exciting?

A post on the evolution of live action BL in Japan is coming, to complement this post. As well as a more detailed explanation of the Yaoi Debates and gay manga.

#history of bl #bl post series #I feel like I left too much stuff out #I hope it makes sense #honestly I would really recommend reading some of those manga #they're super interesting #soon it'll be 20 years since I started reading BL #my gosh #if theres anything anyone wants to know more about #I'd love to write more :)#yaoi manga #bl manga

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ultrone · 11 months ago

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୧ ‧₊˚ look after you ! 🛹

jackieshauna with skater!gf ✫ u hurt yourself while skating and ur gfs take care of you <33 angst n fluff, 2.9k wc

💥 ⏆ : 🩹 ﹢

the clock struck 3:45 pm, and the bell rang, indicating the end of the school day. collecting your physics book and backpack, you said goodbye to kevyn, your usual seatmate in your last block, and made your way to your locker. inside, you unloaded your heavy backpack and retrieved your skateboard, neatly stashed at the back.

each morning, shauna would give you and jackie a ride to school. however, for the journey back home, you often preferred to skate. while you'd rather ride with your girlfriends, they were tied up with soccer practice almost every day. nevertheless, it didn't bother you; after all, you spent most of your time with them anyway, and you genuinely enjoyed skating. the sensation of the breeze against your skin, the rhythmic clatter of wheels on the pavement, combined with your favorite music, felt very soothing and therapeutic.

once you stepped onto the school’s parking lot, you quickly placed your board on the ground and hopped onto it with your usual ease. the trip back home wasn't too long, just about 10 to 15 minutes on your skateboard. however, occasionally, you'd take a different route through the nearby park or empty parking areas, extending your ride for fun or to practice some tricks along the way.

honestly, you were relieved when your girlfriends had practice at the same time you skated. although they don’t mind, they've been a bit worried because you've been getting hurt quite often.

you've been skating for a while now, but recently, you've been putting extra effort into mastering some new tricks. your recent focus has been on different kickflip variations, and you've also started working on your grind and slides. while you've only ended up with some scratches and bruises so far, nothing too unusual, your girlfriends can be a bit nagging about it. jackie even suggested getting you a helmet, but you brushed it off, saying helmets are for "losers"—even shauna chuckled at the idea, so jackie let it go. nevertheless, they were genuinely concerned and insistent about you taking it easy. but of course, now that they had no eyes on you, you practiced and fell as much as you could without a care in the world. and if you were being honest, you enjoyed the extra attention and affection they showered you with when you were injured.

around eight minutes into your skating session, your stomach started growling. the lunch today was a burger with one of the toughest patties you've ever bitten into, along with some dry ass fries, so you tossed your tray and decided to skip lunch altogether. just as you were cringing at the memory of the unappetizing cafeteria food, your eyes lit up when you saw the glowing sign of the "pearl diner," renowned for serving the best milkshakes in wiskayok. without a second thought, you hopped off your skateboard and went in, ordering one to go.

now, with your refreshing and delicious drink in hand, you resumed your journey back home, taking a slight detour to the left, heading towards the park nearest to your house.

now that you had reached your destination, fortunately finding it empty, you cranked up your music all the way up and began taking longer strides, picking up speed. for the first few minutes, you warmed up with a few ollies, pushing yourself to go as fast as possible, and occasionally sipping from the milkshake in your hand. you were so accustomed to high speeds that you didn't bother stowing away your backpack and drink. the thought of falling seemed distant, as you were feeling particularly confident today.

once you felt confident enough, you rode towards the stairs that led to the parking lot. there was a bar dividing them in the middle, and you deemed it the perfect spot to practice your slides. the timing couldn't be better, as the park was completely empty, sparing you from any karens scolding you for supposedly ruining the bar's paint, which, according to them, had been "funded by the neighborhood's taxes," you mimicked mentally in a mock high-pitched voice as you rolled your eyes.

approaching the railing, you took one last stride, placing both feet on the board in an ollie position, ready to execute your trick. as you got close to it, you performed an ollie, and the middle of your board landed perfectly on the bar, allowing for a smooth slide. however, the impact was stronger than you anticipated, causing you to fall hard against it. by the time you were nearing the end of the slide, your skateboard broke in half, resulting in a harsh fall to the ground. in the process, your drink spilled, and your face slid against the pavement.

"hngh-" you grunted, feeling a loud ringing in your ears and too weak to stand up. you realized you must have hit your head pretty hard as your face felt numb. not only that, but your hands and knees burned, likely from scratches. lying flat on the ground, you pulled out your earbuds, finding the music too much to bear. you remained in that position for a couple of minutes until you started to feel the floor beneath your face becoming very wet. shit, now my face is going to be all sticky from the milkshake, you thought, assuming the wetness was from your spilled drink, too lightheaded to detect the metallic odour instead of sweetness.

it wasn’t until you heard two car doors shutting loudly, followed by a pair of hurried footsteps, that you snapped back to your senses.

the world swirled around you, a dizzying blend of pain and confusion. your skateboard lay in pieces beside you, and the taste of blood lingered on your lips. the metallic scent was unmistakable now—definitely not from a spilled milkshake. you groaned, trying to push yourself up, but your limbs felt like lead.

“what the hell happened here?” shauna’s voice cut through the haze. she knelt beside you, her soccer cleats digging into the gravel. her eyes widened as she took in the sight of your battered face. “jackie, get over here!”

jackie appeared at shauna’s side, her expression shifting from curiosity to concern. “whoa, what-”

“look at her!” shauna gestured at you, her anger palpable. “that damn skateboard-”

“shauna, focus,” jackie interrupted. “we need to help her.”

you blinked at them, their faces coming into focus. they both stared at you with concern etched on their faces, moving in sync as jackie dropped to her knees beside you as well.

“hey,” jackie said gently, brushing a strand of hair from your forehead. “can you hear us? do you know your name?”

you managed a weak nod. “y/n,” you whispered. “i… i think i hit my head.”

shauna’s hands were surprisingly gentle as she examined your face. “fuck, those scratches are deep. we need to get you to a hospital.”

“no hospitals,” you protested, wincing as jackie dabbed at your wounds with a tissue from her pocket. “i’ll be fine.”

shauna scoffed. “fine? you’re bleeding all over the place, y/n. we’re taking you to the er.”

“but my skateboard,” you mumbled, feeling absurdly attached to the broken pieces beside you.

jackie exchanged a glance with shauna. “we’ll worry about the skateboard later,” she said firmly. “right now, let’s focus on getting you patched up.”

and just like that, they hoisted you up, one on each side. their strength surprised you—they were soccer players, after all. they half-carried, half-dragged you toward the car. shauna took the driver's seat, placing your backpack on the passenger seat, while jackie sat in the back with you, letting your head rest on her legs.

you knew shauna was mad without needing to look at her. all the signs were there—the slight narrowing of her eyes, the clenched jaw, the sharp breaths. she was always the more reserved of the two, preferring her actions to speak for her rather than voicing her opinions. but there was a difference between the coldness she typically expressed toward things she disliked and the hot rage you felt radiating off her now. “you shouldn't have been such an idiot on the skateboard,” shauna snapped, her words practically boiling as they escaped.

her words stung, but you couldn't argue with her. you'd been asking for it, constantly pushing yourself to do crazier and riskier tricks for no real reason other than pure fun and self-satisfaction. despite repeated warnings from both jackie and shauna to take it easy, wear protective gear, and be cautious, you had dismissed their concerns as mere anxiety and overprotectiveness.

“i'm sorry. i won't do that again,” you mumbled, wincing as the bumpiness of the road jarred against your already aching body.

shauna narrowed her eyes even further, her rage still simmering. “you're damn right you won't,” she muttered.

jackie interjected with a more composed tone. “hey, take it easy on her,” she said, her fingers curled around your arm. you noticed that jackie's grip was comforting, not constraining. “she didn't mean to fall,” she added, her gaze fixed on shauna. shauna turned her attention to jackie, shifting her focus away from you. “don't defend her. she's an idiot.”

“maybe,” jackie responded, holding shauna's gaze steadily. “but right now, our priority should be making sure she's okay.” shauna didn't retreat from the argument, her lips forming a pout. “don't act like this is the first time she’s put herself in danger with that stupid skateboard.”

shauna's piercing stare returned to you, still cold and scathing. "i said i was sorry," you whispered, trying to sound braver than you currently felt. the throbbing pain in your face served as a reminder that picking this fight might not have been the wisest decision.

“i know,” shauna said, her voice cold. “but i'm sick of worrying about you and your stupid skateboard.”

the words stung more than the road rash on your palms. tears welled up in your eyes, and you hastily blinked them away. you didn't know why, but her criticism felt so much harsher than it should have. perhaps it was because you were still reeling from the fall, or maybe it was simply the adrenaline wearing off. regardless, her comment landed with the force of a slap, leaving you feeling hurt and ashamed, like a child scolded for an innocent mistake.

jackie watched as you attempted to wipe away the tears stinging your eyes. "hey," she said, her tone softening. "she doesn't really mean it," she whispered. "she's just worried about you." shauna rolled her eyes at jackie's comforting words, finding them overly optimistic. shauna was always direct—if she had an issue, she would tell you, no sugarcoating necessary. you remained silent, your lip trembling slightly.

shauna's gaze softened a bit as she noticed the tears in your eyes, but instead of apologizing or offering comfort, she simply frowned. "are you crying?"

jackie, on the other hand, reached out to wipe your tears with her thumb. "don't be so harsh," she said quietly toward shauna. "stop it."

the echoes of your girlfriends' arguments reached your ears as you drifted in and out of consciousness during the car ride to the hospital. their heated whispers gradually transformed into a soothing murmur; it was shauna's gentle voice that finally lulled you into slumber.

when you next opened your eyes, you found yourself in a hospital bed, shauna and jackie standing by your side. a bright bulb dangled above, and the walls were painted in a calming shade of blue. before you had a chance to ask any questions, jackie turned to shauna and whispered something in her ear.

shauna nodded in response to jackie's words, taking a deep breath before turning her attention back to you. her expression softened as she gazed down at you, the earlier anger replaced by a more caring demeanor. she reached for your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze, a gesture of tenderness and affection. "how are you feeling?" she asked, her voice gentle yet concerned.

as the fog in your mind began to clear, you let out a soft groan. "my face hurts," you whispered, feeling sluggish and disoriented. shauna nodded slowly, her eyes reflecting worry. "yeah, you hit your head pretty hard," she replied, maintaining her gentle tone.

"the doctor says you'll be fine, but they want you to stay in for the night just in case," jackie added, eliciting a disapproving grunt from you. "are you thirsty?" she asked, a soft and caring look in her eyes.

you nodded faintly in response to jackie's question, sensing the dryness in your throat and mouth. "can you get me some water?" you mumbled, too tired to do so yourself. "of course, i'll be right back," jackie said, giving your forehead a sweet kiss before leaving the room. shauna stayed by your side, her eyes focused on you as her fingers gently combed through your hair.

“i didn't mean what i said back there," she said softly, her eyes reflecting remorse. "i was too harsh, i know," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. she paused for a moment, studying your face.

"it's okay," you mumbled, though you weren't entirely convinced of that statement. perhaps she was right—you had been a complete idiot on the skateboard. maybe it was time to cut back, if not quit for a while. "sorry for worrying you," you continued, feeling guilty for the stress you had caused them.

shauna let out a soft laugh, her face softening further. "you don’t need to apologize, idiot." she paused, contemplating if she should add anything else. "you did nothing wrong. it was just a dumb accident," she emphasized, her voice comforting and reassuring. "besides, i was just mad because i was worried about you," she added, giving you a gentle smile. "just promise me you'll take it easy from now on," she urged, her eyes unwavering as she waited for your response. you nodded, letting out a breath of relief at her understanding. "i promise," you agreed.

as she continued to gently comb through your hair, you released a soft sigh, feeling the stress beginning to dissipate. her touch was soothing and reassuring, a stark contrast to the rough encounter with the pavement moments earlier. “you know i love you, right?” she said, her thumb gently rubbing the side of your face that remained intact.

"i know," you muttered softly, meeting shauna's eyes as you tried to ignore the stinging sensation in your face. shauna's eyes narrowed ever so slightly, and she gave you a gentle smile. “you’re an idiot for trying something like that, but i love you anyway.” you laughed softly at her comment, despite the dull ache still lingering in your bones. “i love you too,” you replied softly.

shauna smiled at your response, her eyes glowing with genuine affection as she looked at your face. just as she was about to reply, you were hit with a sudden jolt of pain as the cut on your scalp began to throb. you cringed slightly, trying to regain your composure. despite attempting to mask your discomfort, it wasn’t enough to hide your ache. shauna noticed, her expression shifting to one of concern. “do you need anything?” she asked, her gaze locked on yours.

“a kiss?” you suggested with a giddy smile.

despite the lingering pain in your face, you couldn't help but smirk at shauna's flustered reaction. “come here," you jokingly commanded, motioning for her to come closer. shauna let out a soft giggle, her cheeks turning a delightful shade of pink.

she stepped closer to your bed, lowering her face to match yours. “you’re such a dork,” she teased with a gentle grin, her warm breath brushing against your skin. with a tender touch, she brushed a few stray strands of hair away from your damp face. without hesitation, she leaned in and pressed her lips against yours, her touch soft and caring, easing the ache. you savored the kiss, starting gently and gradually becoming more passionate as it continued. “mhm,” you murmured, feeling the pain melt away as your lips encountered hers.

shauna broke off the kiss, smiling widely. “are you sure you're feeling okay?” she asked, concern evident in her voice.

"yeah, i'm definitely feeling better," you replied playfully, your tone flirty yet lighthearted.

“i see my two lovebirds have made up,” jackie interrupted with a smile as she returned with a glass of water.

you gave jackie a cheeky smile as she placed the glass of water on the bedside table. “now drink up,” she said firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument. “yes, mom,” you mumbled playfully, leaning forward to take a sip of water. as the liquid soothed your parched throat, you felt some of the discomfort ease away. “feeling better?” jackie asked, leaning down to gently caress the side of your face that was unharmed.

“a little," you mumbled, offering her a smile, your voice still hoarse from the accident.

"good," jackie said with a soft smile, leaning in to give you a tender kiss on the lips, which you eagerly returned. you separated to let out a small yawn, the exhaustion from the day finally catching up to you. both jackie and shauna chuckled softly, finding your tiredness endearing.

"i'm sleepy," you mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper as another yawn escaped you. jackie and shauna exchanged a knowing glance, their smiles widening in amusement. "of course you are," shauna said gently, moving a little closer to intertwine her fingers with yours. "you should get some rest," she suggested, her tone soothing and reassuring.

"as punishment for getting us worried sick, you'll have to endure being sandwiched between us in this small hospital bed all night, because we're staying," jackie declared with a playfully stern expression, prompting you to scoot over as she settled into the bed beside you. shauna followed suit, sliding her arm under your head so that you could rest comfortably against her neck. jackie shifted to her side, wrapping her arm around your waist and planting a sweet kiss on your shoulder.

"aw, is that so?" you mumbled, a smile on your face as you found yourself snug between the two of them in the cramped hospital bed, your head comfortably cradled in shauna's arm. the closeness felt reassuring, surrounded by their warmth and affection.

"we're not going anywhere until you're all healed up," jackie declared, her tone playful yet sincere as she leaned in closer, pulling you even tighter. the gentle pressure from their bodies provided a comforting sense of warmth, their mere presence enough to ease the ache in your battered limbs.

"is this supposed to be a punishment? because it feels more like a reward to me," you mumbled, releasing another soft yawn.

your girlfriends just rolled their eyes and chuckled softly, relieved to see you back to your usual self. the three of you remained in that cozy position throughout the night, simply enjoying each other's company.

#𓏲 📂 ⋮ my works .ᐟ #shauna shipman x reader #shauna shipman x y/n #shauna shipman x you #jackie taylor x reader #jackie taylor x you #jackie taylor x y/n #yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets fanfic #jackieshauna x reader #jackieshauna x y/n #jackieshauna x you

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thevampiremarie · 2 years ago

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Summertime Sadness (part 2)

Simon "Ghost" Riley x reader

Second chance romance, heavy angst, hurt/very little comfort

Ten years ago: the first time you met Simon

Today: the first time Ghost meets you

Tags: mental illness, therapeutic boarding school, self harm, suicide attempt/suicidality, self harm, abuse, parental abandonment, much the same as last chapter. This fic is unedited because I don’t feel like editing it lol. If you see spelling/grammar issues, no you didn’t.

TEN YEARS AGO

Reader POV

It’s intake day.

Intake day happens once a week, always on Wednesday.

You don’t know why they pick Wednesday. It seems pretty arbitrary, doesn’t it?

On intake day, the nurses and counselors make all the current residents of the inpatient program line up to greet the newbies. You actually look forward to intake day. Everyone here is so boring and routine; your roommate never speaks unless spoken to and she always keeps her earbuds in. On intake day, the hope that someone nice will be admitted survives for the few hours of the intake itself.

It usually dies right after. There was one polite girl who smiled when you waved last week, but she was transferred to a different facility that night before you could learn her name.

You’ve been here for three weeks, so that’s three intake days.

You’re not sure why you’ve been here so long. It seems a little excessive; you’d think by now they’d realize your stuff isn’t so bad and maybe you could transition to outpatient appointments?

It’s a little dissociation and some minor depression. Not bad at all.

But your doctors agree, albeit gently, that you should stay for the full five month course.

The program isn’t so bad. The facility sits on a sprawling multi-acre property in the British countryside, where everything is beautiful and verdant and always chilly. It’s lovely. The tea is good. You’re getting used to how they take it here. It’s nothing like the sweet tea you drink back home.

You suppose that’s another reason why they won’t let you go home even though you’re okay; there isn’t a home to go back to. Your dad hasn’t looked you in the eye since Mom left. At least the orderlies here greet you in the morning.

(What Dad doesn’t know is that before she left, she told you she loved you and to wait for her. Soon, she’ll take you away from this place and you’ll never have to see your dad again.)

Before you head to the foyer, you check your hair in the mirror of your room’s suicide-proofed bathroom. A young teenage face stares back at you with cheeks flushed red from the sun. You trace your deep smile lines with the tip of your finger, then practice smiling. You would have feel better about moving to a therapeutic boarding school if you’d been greeted with a smile.

At first, you think the newest crop of poor souls will be uninteresting at best. Listless rich kids detoxing off Mommy’s coke, frightened preteens who’ve never been away from their parents for an extended period of time, and a few teenagers straight from an ER, IV bags and all.

And then you see him get off the bus last.

He’s tall, towering over everyone else. A lanky, almost skeletal build, with a bored, aloof expression on his face. He hides the Zippo lighter he was playing with in his sleeve before the nurses catch and confiscate it.

There’s something horrifically severe about him. He can’t be more than a couple of years older than you, but he carries himself like he’s a blade and the world is filled with monsters.

His eyes are large and dark, rich brown irises rimmed with pale blonde eyelashes. And they’re kind, even though he would probably hate having that pointed out.

You decide then and there that you’ll befriend him. He could use a friend; everyone here does. He’s beautiful in his sharpness and elegant in his abrasiveness. Maybe you can coax more of that hidden kindness out, show him that it’s worth more than his anger. You wouldn’t be able to stay away if you tried.

You both like playing with fire, though you prefer less literal ones.

TODAY

Ghost POV

Your smile fades swiftly as if it was never there to begin with.

There are two ghosts in this room. That’s what you are; a ghost of the girl he knew.

He watches and waits for you to shift uncomfortably and start blabbering to fill the silence like you used to. “Why’d you make them call me?” Ghost asks when it’s clear that you won’t.

As soon as you explain, he’s out of here. Ghost meant it when he said he never wanted to see you again.

You’re the last living reminder of the past he’s tried so hard to kill. The beeping sounds of your heart monitor spell out his mistakes in a grating, irritating rhythm.

Your answer disappoints his expectations. “I didn’t actually think you’d show.” Ghost doesn’t hear any wistfulness or longing in your voice, anything that would tell him that you’re clinging on to the boy you thought he was. Only a bone-dry and hollow statement of facts.

“What do you want?”

You ignore his question. At fifteen, you were good at that. At twenty-five, you’re better. “You got any cigarettes I could bum? You look like you still smoke them,” You say as you fiddle with your torn, bleeding nail beds with the classic anxiety of nicotine withdrawal.

He does that too when a mission stretches too long without a resupply and he finishes his cigarettes early to stave off hunger.

Ghost remembers fighting with you over the pack of smokes he smuggled into the program. He would hold it way above your head and laugh as you struggled to reach them. But you never gave up - they were bad for him, and you liked him too much to see him die of lung cancer.

He remembers the determination in your eyes and your unwavering faith that he could be saved.

“They’re bad for you,” Ghost echoes.

If you remember that moment, you don’t show it. “You know what else is fucking bad for you?” Your tone is so acerbic that it gives him whiplash.

He can’t resist taking a shot. “What, being a prick?” You just… bring out the worst in him. You make him feel as unhinged and unmoored as he was when you first met.

You roll your bloodshot eyes.

“I wasn’t going to call you out on that. I was going to say benzos and vodka. Also throwing yourself headfirst off a bridge.”

“Oh.”

What is he supposed to say to that?

“Why did you come?” You ask after a long moment of quiet interspersed by that fucking heart monitor.

Ghost grinds his teeth into each other as he reflects. He hates doing that; the inside of his skull is a bad place. “…I don’t know,” He admits. Coming here was a mistake; Ghost understands that now.

The foul taste on the back of his tongue is guilt. But why? You did this to yourself. You brought him here to play games and fuck him up, so why is he the one who feels… bad?

You sigh. “Simon-“

“Ghost. It’s Ghost now,” He cuts you off with more violence than necessary.

Your mouth settles into a tight, pained line. “Ghost. Go away.”

“But you called me here.”

That provokes a reaction.

Ghost sees it and immediately wishes it hadn’t.

You stare him straight in the eye, your dilated pupils peel back his mask and see the face underneath. Your skin is tinged gray and your bottom lip blooms red with blood from where you’ve bitten through it.

He wants back the child sobbing for his forgiveness on her knees, who looked at him like he hung the stars in the sky.

“And it was a mistake, and I should never have done it, and I just wanted the satisfaction of knowing you weren’t going to pick up the phone. That I was truly alone.”

So the memory of him is a knife you’re using on yourself. Fucking disturbing.

“Oh.”

You raise an eyebrow as you wave. “Bye.”

Right.

That’s it.

Though your dismissal rankles, Ghost does as you ordered and takes his leave of you.

His work phone vibrates a few times.

Only one person calls that it. “Captain,” Ghost greets.

Captain Price clears his throat on the other side of the line. “Lieutenant. When can we expect you back?”

‘Tomorrow’ is on the tip of Ghost’s tongue.

He’s never taken a day off in his career, which means he’s got at least a year or two in built up vacation time. “I’ll be gone for a while longer, sir. Not sure yet how long,” Ghost answers promptly.

It’s only for a few more days, a week at most. Long enough to make sure you won’t try to kill yourself again, long enough for the guilt freezing his blood and choking his lungs to fade.

“Alright, Lieutenant. Keep us posted.”

“Yes, sir.”

TAGGING: @devcica @igotmajordaddyissues @almightywdm @copiasratscheese @nerdyreaderpapi @schmelscorner

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keiraonline · 10 months ago

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Since I was able to relate every lyric to my time in the troubled teen industry I decided to make this.

Absolutely destroyed me but definitely worth it.

#troubled teen industry #tti #I see you survivor #therapeutic wilderness program #wilderness program #breaking code silence #therapeutic boarding school #writing #music #noah kahan #digital diary #mental health #mental illness

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bullet-prooflove · 7 months ago

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The Weight of Water: Daniel LaRusso x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989@kiwiwatermelonsuger@sadgenderfluidmaniac@junghwansy2k

Summer School Series:

Part One: Summer School - Daniel's excited to meet Anthony's new art teacher.

Part Two: Dirt - Daniel learns more about you and your business.

Over the course of the summer Daniel starts to learn more about you, it’s snippets of conversation in between picking up Anthony and dropping him off but he enjoys the time you spend together. The glimpses of you he gets to see.

It’s through one of those conversations that he learns you surf every morning. You come into the studio with wet hair, the scent of the ocean clinging to your skin and he can’t help but ask what you’ve been up to.

“You should come with me one morning.” You say as you carefully set out the tools on your desk. Anthony is already at his workspace, combing through the box of cogs, selecting the different sizes he’ll need for his next project. He’s become one of your most diligent students over the summer. Excited to be there, the last to leave, always peppering you with questions. “Being on the water, its therapeutic. Good for the soul.”

“I haven’t done anything like that since Sam was a kid.” Daniel tells you, his palm rubbing over the back of his neck. “We gave it up when she got into volleyball. I used to really enjoy it.”

“My friend owns a surf shop near the place I go, she’ll let you borrow a surf board and wet suit if I ask nicely. She lets me store my board there.” You say as you turn to face him, your voice lowering so Anthony doesn’t overhear. “Besides it might be good for you to take a beat, do something for yourself.”

Daniel crosses his arms over his chest as he leans back against your desk with a sigh. He can’t remember the last time he did something that didn’t involve the kids, the dealership or the dojo. He loves all three but there’s a responsibility that comes with them, he always has to be present and focused. There’s never time to just take a breath.

“Does it show?” He askes quietly, his gaze coming to rest on Anthony as he sorts through his equipment.

“You have this little furrow right here.” You say, your fingertip rubbing lightly over the space between his eyes. “I’m scared it’s going to become permanent.”

The edges of his mouth turn up into a small smile as he captures your hand in his. His thumb caresses your palm as he looks down at it.

“The kids are at Amanda’s tonight, I can come with you tomorrow morning if you’re up for the company.” He says, looking down at your linked fingers.

“I am.” You tell him, squeezing his hand lightly. “I’ll text you the time and place.”

***

Daniel doesn’t remember the last time he was at the beach, the house he used to live in with Amanda had a pool so they never ventured outside of the neighbourhood unless it was to the country club. He hasn’t been back there since the divorce because those people were always more Amanda’s speed than his.

It’s only with hindsight that he sees how much his marriage changed him. Her aspirations became his, together they build an empire, a successful life for their kids. He doesn’t know when they fell out of love, only that he woke up one morning and realised he that he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a conversation with the woman sleeping next to him about anything other than the kids. They’d tried dating after that and discovered it was the only thing they had in common.

So they’d made the decision to uncouple, divide everything in half and coparent the kids. Amanda still lives in that house in Encino Hills, they’d both thought it was better for the kids that they have that consistency. Daniel’s moved to a smaller house a couple of blocks away, with a reflecting pool and grass that he likes to feel under his feet first thing in the morning.

That’s what he thinks about when he’s out on the water with you that morning, the changes in his life, how he’s happier now than he’s ever been. There’s no roles, no assumptions, no responsibilities out here, he’s just himself in its rawest form and he finds that liberating. He watches you as he sits on his surfboard and lets the waves lap against him. You’re a natural in the water, catching waves as if you’re attuned to the whims of the sea, laughing when you bail. There’s an authenticity in you that calls to him, you never try to be anything other than yourself and he can’t describe how attractive he finds that.

“This is the most fun I’ve had in a long time.” He tells you in the aftermath. The two of you are standing at the back of your Jeep, wetsuits unzipped and rolled down to the waist. He’s dabbing himself off with towel while you’re drinking from a bottle of water.

It does something to him seeing you in that sports bikini, the way it clings to your form, covering your assets. It has a skull and a couple of roses on the front in a similar style to those that are inked into your upper arms. He had no idea you had tattoos until today, he wants to chase his fingers over them, ask you what they mean but he holds himself back, he always does.

“We’ll have to do it again sometime.” You tell him as you pick up your towel to dry off your hair.

“I’m free tomorrow.” He tells you with a boyish grin.

It becomes a standing thing between the two of you then. On mornings he doesn’t have the kids he’s with you at the beach, it’s usually followed by coffee and breakfast at the café on the corner. His days feel happier, his life full. He talks about the books he’s reading, the podcasts he’s listening too, the lessons he’s trying to instil in the kids, both his own and the ones he teaches at his dojo.

This, he realises is what he was missing from his relationship with Amanda, the sense of connection, the individuality. With you he’s his own person, an entity that exists outside of all the roles he plays. He doesn’t disappear, the way he did in his marriage. He thinks about asking you out, telling you he wants more but there never seems to be the right moment.

The end of summer art show, he promises himself. That’s when I’ll do it.

Of course, he’s Daniel LaRusso and his life…

It never works out the way he planned.

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

Interested in supporting me? Join my Patreon for Bonus Content!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

#cobra kai #daniel larusso #daniel larusso x reader #danny larusso #danny larusso x reader

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cooliestghouliest · 1 year ago

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LOVE ME TWO TIMES, ch. one

(chapter one) (chapter two)

PAIRING: eventual Mungrove x Reader

SUMMARY: Struggling to come to terms with the abrupt abandonment of your father, you’re left with two options – attend an “all girls’ therapeutic boarding academy” that’s really more Bedlam Insane Asylum than trusty reformative school, or move half-way across the country to a small town in Indiana to live with your older brother, Rick. The upheaval of your life in Fresno might just end up being a little star-crossed and a whole lot serendipitous.

WORD COUNT: 3.5k+

SERIES TAGS: angst. some pretty heavy topics in later chapters. just enough fluff to hopefully balance it all out. eventual smut (18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI). eventual love triangle. neurodiversity. dom/sub undertones (dom!Billy, switch!Eddie, switch!Reader), also bi!Eddie and bi!Reader but confused!Billy. drugs and drug addiction. no use of Y/N (but much use of nicknames and pet names). Reefer Rick is Matthew Lillard circa Senseless. more TBA as the story progresses.

CHAPTER TAGS: absent dads and mean moms. brief mention of self-destructive tendencies (way more about that later). your brother's a total cockblock. long-winded parental background information. this is really just some stage setting before we get into the nitty gritty.

A/N: this is my favorite fic i've ever written, and now it's coming at you re-edited. it's my verbose word child, sprinkled with a few What The Fuck and Holy Shit moments, dolled up with some silly humor and a dose of hot (and often borderline depraved) smut. a lot's already planned for this, so i hope you enjoy. :-)

—

chapter title: O Brother, Where Art Thou?

You weren’t expecting the high pitch of the doorbell that sounded throughout your colonial-style home, and proof of that was now spilled all over the kitchen floor.

Tiny green buds were sprinkled across the white-and-black linoleum tile, some scattered in the blonde mess of curls that belonged to the boy kneeling before you, his mouth busy between your legs.

You’d been attempting to multitask, rolling a joint while twisted awkwardly at the dining table, the quarterback’s head shrouded by your bare thighs, lapping noisily at your wet center.

You huffed out a frustrated sigh at the spillage, but it quickly turned into a moan when goldilocks gave a particularly harsh suck on your clit.

“You needa get that?” he mumbled against your folds, tongue halting its assault only to speak before diving back in, showing no intention of stopping.

You shook your head, one hand moving to tangle in the his hair, the other crumbling up the now empty and useless rolling paper. “Uh-uh… prob’ly just some Mormons,” you answer, beginning to rock your hips up into the warm mouth covering your cunt. “I don’t wanna be saved.”

Chris… or Carl… or Craig… whatever his name was, laughed, the sound vibrating nicely against your heat. Your toes curled at the sensation, thighs wrapping tight around his ears.

He moaned appreciatively at your movement, running his tongue flat against the length of your opening. Maybe you could keep this one around. He liked New Kids on the Block unironically, but holy shit, he knew what to do with his mouth.

The bell rang again.

And then again, and again, and again.

“Oh, little seeeee-eeee-ster!” came a familiar male voice from the other side of the front door. “I know you’re in there, Bean. I can see your shadow in the kitchen!”

You shot up straight, aligning your posture and pulling Chris Carl Craig from between your legs by the grip you had in his hair. He gave an unappealing whine, his fingers moving up to console his scalp.

Standing quickly, you adjusted your pleated skirt so it fell normal again, just above your knees. “Up, up, up,” you impatiently urged the jock still kneeling on the ground, smoothing your clothing and hair to make sure nothing looked too out of place.

“Who is that?” the blonde asked, finally following you into a standing position, large hand still cradling his head. “Still the Mormons?”

“It was never Mormons, Chet,” you said, hoping your shot-in-the-dark guess at his name was right.

It wasn’t.

“It’s Chad,” he said, eyes beginning to narrow. Whether it was in suspicion, confusion, annoyance, or a combination of all three, you didn’t know. And it didn’t matter. You needed to get him out of here without your new visitor catching sight of him, or else you knew you’d never hear the end of it. Chad was still intent on conversing, though. “We’ve literally been in the same school district since, like, kindergarten.”

You bit your lower lip, offering a sheepish smile. “Right,” you said. “I know that.” You didn’t. “Sorry. Head’s a little loopy right now. Your tongue could win awards.”

With Chad’s newfound cocky grin, you knew the flattery angle had worked out. It usually did. Boys were such suckers for some ego stroking.

“Oh, fuckin’ right!” you heard from the front door, the visitor’s voice now cheerful. The door handle began to jangle, and you heard the sound of a key in the lock.

He must have found the spare. Of course he had. He’d only lived here his entire childhood, just like you.

The key had been in the same place it always had been since moving to Fresno -- under the coir doormat that read Definitely Not a Trap Door, courtesy of your father. He’d made it for the family after moving from Chicago to California for his new teaching position at CSU in ‘70. Your mom still hadn't gotten around to throwing it out, even though she’d managed to get rid of almost everything else inside the home that reminded her of her ex-husband.

The door swung open and there stood your older brother in all his punk rock, Fuck-the-Bourgeoisie glory. Short bleached blonde hair, numerous facial piercings, ripped Dead Kennedys t-shirt, tight red tartan pants, muddy black Doc Martens. He was smiling wide, dopey.

Fuckin' Rick.

You started to match his expression, unable to resist your brother’s effortless and childlike charm, but your smile fell flat when Rick’s now disapproving gaze landed on the blonde still standing at your side.

“A Letterman, Bean? Really?” Rick asked you incredulously, having spotted Chad’s football jacket as the jock in question slid it from its place on the kitchen chair to rest over his broad shoulder.

“What?” you asked Rick coyly, quickly eyeing Chad. “You know I don’t discriminate. I’m a true equal opportunist.”

Chad seemed oblivious to the underlying context of the conversation between the pair of siblings. He was watching the two of you interact with seemingly nothing behind his eyes.

God, so cute but so totally stupid.

You closed the distance between the two of you, Chad looking hopeful he was going to be kissed or something, but you instead reached your hand out to pluck a few pieces of weed from his hair. “You can go now,” you told him, finger tapping his nose lightly.

Chad’s face scrunched at your touch but he then shrugged it off, picking his backpack up off the kitchen floor before making his way to the front door. “See ya at school,” he said to you over his shoulder. Stopping briefly next to your brother, Chad assessed him before saying, “Um, bye, whoever you are.”

Rick pulled his lips into a tight line, raising his brows in amusement. He clapped his hand hard on Chad’s back a few times before pushing the footballer out the door. “Later, loverboy.”

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

An hour and a half later, you and Rick were seated on opposite ends of the tufted tuxedo sofa in the living room. A box of half-eaten extra cheese pizza laid open in between the two of you.

Some low budget horror VHS was playing on the TV across from the couch, the volume low. You thought it was called Ghoulies. You kept catching glances of tiny, ugly wet looking monsters scurrying on the screen out of your peripheral.

You’d been talking to Rick about senior year at Fresno Central High (you said you were doing great, straight A’s across the board, but in reality, you were failing everything but English and Music).

You'd been talking about work at Spins and Needles, the record store you’d been employed at for a little over two years now (you told him you’d gotten promoted to Assistant Manager, which was true, but you left out the fact that you were on Strike Two of Three for blowing off shifts to get high with some goth kids that routinely came in a few hours before closing).

And you'd been talking about your mom (this you were honest about – “She’s still a huge bitch, Rick, that hasn’t changed”).

But then he tried to bring up your dad, asking in an obnoxiously forced nonchalant tone if you’d heard from him lately.

That’s where you stopped him.

You were not going to talk about your dad.

Flipping the pizza box lid shut harshly, you sat up straight and faced him.

“Why are you really here?” you demanded.

Rick sighed, defeated.

He knew you’d catch on soon enough that this supposed innocent visit was actually a planned mission. He’d just been hoping maybe you’d be the one to breach the topic of going back to Indiana with him. Maybe you wanted out of this Californian hellhole. A chance at a fresh start, hundreds of miles away.

But he knew you recently had developed a penchant for self-destruction and self-catastrophizing, which meant getting you to see the bright side and the positives of his request was going to be near impossible.

Still, he had to try.

“Mom called me,” he admitted, which earned him a dramatic eye roll from you. “I know you’re failing your classes. I know your boss has been blowing up the landline wondering why you keep closing up shop so early. And I know mom’s a bitch. I’m trying to save you from her. She said she’s thinking of enrolling you into St. Mary’s.” Rick wasn’t surprised at the bewildered scoff you gave to that, St. Mary’s being Indiana’s notorious Catholic boarding school for wayward girls. He’d finally gotten to the point, the real reason he was there: “Come stay with me in Hawkins, Bean.”

“Wow, Rick, so noble. It only took you, what, ten years to come back for me?”

Rick couldn’t help but flinch, your wounding words accusing. And accurate.

It was true.

Rick, at twenty, had left Fresno in an old RV he’d bought for dirt cheap, with plans to travel the country and get the fuck away from his parents, Ronald and Maureen Lipton.

Or, away from his mother, really.

Ron Lipton was generally fine -- until a certain point in his life. To outsiders, the man seemed to be very happy and very put-together, successfully established in both his home life and his career.

Ron and Maureen had gotten married just a few short months following their high school graduation, after finding out Maureen was pregnant with Rick.

With the draft ever present, Ron enlisted in the army, while Maureen enlisted the help of her mother-in-law to take care of Rick (and eventually you, once you were born, conceived on one of Ron’s short stints back home), so she could work on her doctorate in psychiatry.

After being honorably discharged a handful of years later, Ron had gotten his Master’s degree in education and creative writing.

To the public, Ronald and Maureen Lipton were fantastic at keeping up the facade of Perfect Suburban Family.

In private, however, the Lipton household was like living in a layer of Hell.

Where Ron was imaginative and endlessly inquisitive, instilling a love of storytelling and curiosity in his children, Maureen was passive aggressive and judgemental, harboring jealousy for the relationship her children had with her husband. This eventually festered a spiteful dynamic between her and Ron, and between her and her offspring as well.

When the two of you were younger, Rick in his late teens and you in your last years of elementary school, one of your favorite backyard games was to wonder aloud to each other how and why your parents had ever even gotten together in the first place.

You were both sure that it must have been an arranged marriage of some sorts.

Rick thought maybe your grandparents had made a deal with the devil, and to ensure the safety of the family, Ronald and Maureen were forced to be betrothed for life.

You thought maybe Maureen was an evil sorceress who had cast a spell on your father, trapping him in a loveless marriage that he was an unsuspecting victim in.

The truth was not stranger than fiction.

The reason behind their nuptials was simple, really: Ronald was raised to believe he needed to provide for his family, and after having knocked Maureen up not only once but twice, he was resigned to the fact that this was his path in life.

Devoted father, loving husband.

While he couldn’t stand his wife, her harshness and indignation usurping any positive characteristics she may have once had, Ron did love his children. Dearly.

Rick was his wild child; his rebellious, rambunctious trouble maker.

Ron would sit on the front porch late at night, waiting for Rick to get home and tell him all about his latest escapades. What parties he’d gone to, what girls he’d kissed, whether he preferred the high from acid or mushrooms more. Ron lived vicariously through his son, encouraging the boy to play hard, but to play hard responsibly.

You were Ron’s Little Leia of Alderaan; his opinionated, open-minded warrior, brave enough to stand up to any bully who’d dare to make fun of you or your friends. You were Ron’s daydreamer, his whimsical muse, his daily reminder that there was still innocent softness in this cruel world.

You would have Daddy Daughter Dates twice a week, where you’d do things like go to the roller rink or have picnics in the park, and they always ended with a two scoop mint chocolate chip ice cream cone shared between the both of you.

But Ron’s love for his life dwindled the second he stepped foot inside his house -- where he was forced to occupy space with his resentful excuse of a wife, a woman who would never miss a beat to berate him for every choice he’d ever made in his life.

With your older brother gone, the squabbles between Ron and Maureen got worse.

Rick had been able to placate his father and put himself in the line of Maureen’s fire, taking her verbal hits so his father didn’t have to. You, being only ten when Rick had left, didn’t have much ground to stand on with your parents arguing, and trying to step in as Rick had would usually only make things escalate.

Ron fantasized about leaving, starting over anew. The immediate and resounding “no” that his subconscious always answered himself with, thinking of the kids, dwindled down over time, until all of his fantasizing led him to making actual plans of departure.

Last year, right before summer break was set to start, Ron finally left.

Having taken PTO from the campus, he’d waited that morning for Maureen to leave for work and for you to be on the bus to school. Alone, he took the time to pack all of his belongings, leaving only a few things behind, all with you in mind -- things to remind you of him in his absence. He’d intended on coming back for you as soon as possible, wanting to settle in somewhere before dragging his daughter into his uprooted life.

But it was over a year now that Ron had been gone, and you could count on one hand the amount of times he’d reached out to you.

You could count them on two fingers, actually.

The first time was the night after he’d left, when he’d tried explaining to you his reasoning, which you weren’t at all interested in hearing. You were beside yourself that he’d left you, just like Rick had, except Rick was your brother and that was normal, but Ron was your daddy and he was supposed to always be there.

Your mother, in anger that Ron would attempt to talk to you and not her, had disconnected the call, and while you waited by the phone all night for him to call back, he never did.

The second and last time he reached out was a few months ago, via letter for your 18th birthday. It was postmarked with an address in Fort Worth, Texas. When you’d tried writing back, you'd found the letter you'd sent in your mailbox a week later, marked Return to Sender.

It was mid-November now, and you hadn’t heard from him since.

At least Rick had kept in touch after he’d left.

He’d sent you care packages every month since arriving to Indiana in '81. They were full of sci-fi and horror books he’d found at the local Goodwill or Salvation Army, newspaper clippings for outlandish Classified segments, scribbled notes on stained notebook paper detailing concerts he’d gone to and new bands he thought you should check out.

Remembering this, you softened quickly after accusing Rick of abandoning, your biting comment causing guilt to swirl in your stomach.

Rick had his reasons to leave, you understood that. He was allowed to live his life. And even though he’d done just that, left and lived his life, he still always managed to keep tabs on you. The two of you hadn’t gone more than a few weeks without letters sent or parcels mailed back and forth since he’d first left home.

Never there, but never gone. Not really.

That was more than you could say for your father.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that,” you admitted, even though the hurt words you spoke did hold some kernel of truth. “It’s just… I don’t wanna have to start all over somewhere else.”

“It’ll be good for you,” Rick promised, choosing to let the accusation of his abandonment slide. He was sure you'd both get into it more later, considering it was a conversation that was long overdue. “The house is too big for just me anyway, and you know I’m fuckin’ shit at decorating. I’ve basically just been using beer cans for bookends and stuff like that – you could make it look way cozier.”

You laughed, sure your brother wasn’t exaggerating.

Rick was about as anti-capitalist as you could get, and that included being a minimalist when it came to possessions. Give the man a hand-me-down couch, a little TV, some weed, his cassettes, and a subscription to Playboy, and he’d be content for the rest of his life.

You were the opposite.

You loved things.

You had many different collections you’d amassed over the years -- your vast assortment of books had spilled from the two bookshelves in your room to several stacks littered throughout the house, much to your mother's annoyance; your vinyls were shoved into four big storage bins stacked under your octagonal bedroom window, which you draped a blanket over and used as a makeshift window seat nook; your cliques of creepy looking dolls you’d collected from estate sales and antique shops crowded your bed, your vanity, the storage shelf in your closet; the bug assemblages you’d been adding to since your childhood had their own corner of your room, little homes full of ladybugs, ants, and deathwatch beetles.

The idea that you could expand your knack for interior embellishing (hoarding, really) further than the confines of one room was one thing that made you start to consider taking Rick’s offer seriously.

That, and the realization that finally getting the fuck out of Fresno might not be such a bad idea.

Because what did you have there anymore, anyway? Shit grades? A handful of mean exes? A dead-end job?

Was any of that worth staying for?

You thought of your dad trying to reach out to you via telephone, imagined your mother answering and telling him you’d moved away and no longer lived there.

If it were only a few months since Ron had left, you didn’t think you would have gone with Rick back to Hawkins. You would have stayed just for the mere possibility that your dad would show up on the doorstep one day, begging for your forgiveness for leaving you alone with your coldhearted mother.

However, it was over a year now that he’d been gone. One year, four months, and fifteen days... if anyone was counting.

You’d never verbally admit it, but you still were.

There was a page hidden in the back of your diary where you kept track.

Your hopefulness was starting to make you sick.

Maybe a change wouldn’t be so bad.

Going back to Hawkins with Rick sure beat being forced to attend an all girls’ reformatory school, one with a reputation that claimed the headmaster performed shock therapy on students in lieu of giving them detentions.

You were sure that was just a rumor, but still. You didn’t want to take any chances.

“Bean, let me be there for you,” Rick said, reaching over to grasp your hand with his fingers. You noted his nails were painted a lime green. “It’ll be just like when we were kids, except now you’re older and actually cool so I won’t be embarrassed to introduce you to all my friends.” Dipping his head to the side, he wiggled his pierced brows, a grin toying on his lips as he added, “And we can smoke weed in the house.”

Pretending as if that alone was what sealed the deal, you stood swiftly. “Say less. You really should’ve started with that, Richard.” You headed off in the direction of the stairs that led up to your room, glancing over your shoulder at your brother who was staring off after you with a relieved countenance on his face. “Gimme an hour and then we can go?”

Rick answered with two thumbs up before grabbing a slice of pizza, shoving as much as he could of it into his mouth as you disappeared up the spiral staircase.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie x you #eddie x reader #billy hargrove x reader #billy x reader #billy x you #mungrove x reader #mungrove #billy hargrove smut #eddie munson smut

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iridecsense · 8 days ago

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nepenthe - m.

⊰ 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘹𝘵 ⊱

──── ⋅ ⍤ ⋅⊰⋅∘ 〄 ∘⋅⊱⋅ ⍤ ⋅ ────

⤷ summary: Proceeding the encounter with Grindelwald in Paris, Newt goes seaward on a secret mission for Dumbledore when his ship is caught in a storm...

✧ word count: 11.2k ✧ pairing: newt scamander | siren!reader ✧ genre: romance, slow burn, angst, adventure ✧ warnings: depictions of violence and death ✧ author’s note: Who updates after nearly five years? Me. I do. Anywayy, feel free to comment or send me feedback via my ask box, I love hearing from you all. Hopefully, it will encourage me to finish this series. That being said, I hope you enjoy!

──── ⋅ ⍤ ⋅⊰⋅∘ 〄 ∘⋅⊱⋅ ⍤ ⋅ ────

Sailing the seas was one of the many things that Newt was an expert at. He had sailed many boats and ships during his time abroad. Big boats, tiny boats, row boats, and sailboats, you name it and he’s manned it. He enjoyed the seas, it was the most fascinating feature of Earth to him. It was a vast expansion of salty water that covered seventy percent of the Earth and was home to more than half of its creatures—most of which have yet to be discovered. While most feared the ocean, he embraced it. He wished that Jacob felt the same.

Jacob had a hard time adjusting to life a sea. While Newt kept his friend’s seasickness at bay, his preexisting fears still lingered. Jacob was no help when it came to sailing. He was far too clumsy and anxious to work under Uluras’s command. His talents lied elsewhere, elsewhere being the ship’s kitchen. Jacob spent most of his time down there, cooking and baking meals and treats for everyone to eat. Newt suspected it was therapeutic for him; in more ways than one. Either way, he was glad to see Jacob active and committed.

They sailed smoothly for three days. In those days, Uluras took a liking to Newt, taking him under his wing. They often shared stories with one another, Newt telling of his adventures around the world, and Uluras proudly spoke of tales from his mother country. There were times where Newt would get him to talk about Dumbledore and how they new each other when they were both young men, but nothing too personal. All Newt could gather was that Dumbledore’s family and his were close and that he owes them a great debt.

Even now, on what Uluras revealed to be their last night aboard the ship, they all sat on deck eating the supper Jacob and Niris prepared sharing entertaining stories of how they spent their time in school. Newt stayed quiet for the most part, content with listening to Jacob’s tall tales and Niris’s trouble making. Even Uluras had a thing or two to share about his days as a wryly teen.

Under the night sky the sea glittered and shined. The sea was calm, the water gently lapped at the sides of the ship, and, if you listened close enough, you could hear the fin whales singing in the distance. It was a rather peaceful night, the most peaceful night they’ve had while on board.

Newt sat in comfortable silence as the others laughed heartily at a story Jacob had finished telling. They’d finished their meals, and turned to drinking rice wine to further fill their stomachs. Newt rather disliked the alcoholic drink, as he did all alcoholic drinks, but he still sipped the contents of his mug ever so often to blend in.

It wasn’t long before everyone grew tired. They had a long day ahead of them and would need all the sleep they could get. Niris was the first to retire to his nook. Jacob followed soon after, taking the mugs and plates back into the kitchen, claiming he would deal with them in the morning. Truthfully, Newt was rather exhausted himself. He could feel the weight of his tiredness pulling at his eyelids, but the ticking ambush of questions that still swelled in the back of his head wouldn’t let him rest.

Uluras had moved to the forecastle deck. His hand still clutched around a mug of wine as he stared up at the sky, sipping peacefully. Newt was unsure if he should disturb him.

“Ya just gonna stand there watchin’ me or ya gonna speak what’s on your mind?” Uluras spoke with his back still turned.

Newt straightened his posture, flustered. He climbed up the steps and onto the deck to stand at Uluras’s side. The wind lapped around them. Uluras kept his gaze forward, barely acknowledging Newt’s presence. Newt, feeling displaced, did the same. He looked at the night horizon, watching the bow of the ship cut through the waves with ease.

“I was thinking about tomorrow,” Newt confessed after a brief silence. “I’m still unsure of what exactly I am to do when we reach Italy. It’s not as if Dumbledore gave me instructions.”

Uluras huffed through his nose. “No need for instructions. What you need is a name,” he said.

Newt furrowed his brows. “A name?”

Uluras turned his head towards Newt. “In the mornin’, ‘round noon, we will dock in Naples. There you must find a woman named Reinette.”

“Reinette?” Newt repeated. “Who’s Reinette?”

“Reinette is a talented witch with the gift of seeing. Her gift has given her the advantage of knowin’ many things. When you get there you must find her.”

“How do you suppose I do that?”

“It’s been a while, but I’m sure she hasn’t left. When I knew her well she worked in a pub. What was it called?” Uluras pursed his lips in thought, snapping his fingers as he muttered different names. “La Belladonna? No. It was Il Basalisc, I think... or maybe it was... It was somethin’ with a B.”

The older man sucked his teeth and sighed. “Just ask around for Reinette. I’m sure a local will be able to point you in the right direction. It's not like she keeps a low profile.” He rolled his eyes, turning around to walk back down the stairs.

Newt wasn’t sure he understood what Uluras meant by that, but he took the new information gladly. It was better than nothing.

“You should rest, Scamander.” Newt turned on his heels to look down at Uluras on the deck. “This mission that Dumbledore’s got you wrapped up in...It all starts there. An’ you’ll be needing all the rest you can get.”

Newt nodded in an unconfident manner. Uluras, having drunken himself into lethargy, dissapeared into his quarters for the night, leaving Newt alone on deck.

He didn’t get any sleep that night.

⁎ ⊹ ⁂ ˚ ✧ ⁂ ⊹ ＊

Newt was inside his case laying on his cot staring up at the ceiling deep in his own thoughts when Jacob came descending down the ladder. He jumped from the ladder a few feet from the floor, landing with a thud. He turned to look down at his friend.

“Did you sleep in here?” Jacob asked. Newt shook his head. Jacob sighed, looking around the shack. His eyes caught sight of a strange creature similar to a hummingbird in the way its wings flapped incessantly, though it was double its size and had a long beak that curled into itself. It stared back at him through the window above Newt’s cot and flew away soon after.

“I didn’t know you brought all your animals with you.”

Newt sat up in his bed. “I didn’t. Well, not all of them. Just the ones that needed my attention. Bunty’s caring for the rest back home,” said Newt.

Jacob nodded, dropping the subject. “Uluras told me to come get ya. Yeah, he says that we’ll be docking soon.”

Newt's eyes widened. “Is it noon already?”

“Fifteen minutes after,” Jacob told him. “Sorry I didn't come to get you sooner but I was late waking up myself. That wine can really put you out.” He chuckled as he rubbed his aching belly.

Newt stood to his feet and walked to his work station. He pulled a small black box from a drawer and opened it. inside was an assortment of small potion bottles. Some were filled with liquid and others with herbs and one with something that moved. Jacob scrunched his nose in disgust.

Newt picked up a couple of bottles, carefully reading the labels before finding the one he was searching for. He held it in his hand as he placed the lid back onto the box and stuffed it back into the drawer. He walked back to Jacob and held out the bottle filled with an herb that looked like plant roots.

“Chew on these. They’ll help your stomach settle.”

Jacob took the bottle kindly and without question. “Thanks.”

Newt flashed him a small smile, before brushing past to climb up the ladder. Stepping from his case, Newt helped his friend by taking his hand and pulling him out. The two men quickly packed their things, ensuring everything was in order before ascending to the deck.

The sun hung high in the air. The call of seagulls accompanied the musicality of wind lapping at sails and waves crashing into the sides of the ship. The pesky birds circled the ship in hopes of finding food, or perhaps they just wanted someplace to rest their wings. Either way, their presence was welcomed, for it meant that land was near.

Newt and Jacob made their way to the ship’s railing. They looked ahead to see the evidence: the costal city of Naples flaunting its beautiful landscape. Jacob smiled, openly expressing his excitement. Wether he was excited to venture to a new land or because he was finally getting off the boat was unclear. Maybe it was a bit of both. Either way, when the ship finally docked, Jacob was the first to step off after giving goodbyes to Niris and Uluras.

The dock was lively with passersby. It was a trading dock meant for the import of magical goods. It was tucked away and hidden by enchantments to mask its presence on the shoreline of an abandoned beach. On the harbor, sellers peddled their goods, high in stock of all the magical goods not native to Italy.

Uluras and Niris stood at the opening to the gangway. Newt with his head bowed, reached in his coat pocket for the pouch Dumbledore had given him, handing it to the old man. Uluras saw the gold flashing in the pouch and placed his hand over it pushing it back into Newt’s chest.

“Keep your money, Mr. Scamander,” he said. “You’ll be needing it where you’re headed.”

Newt nodded. He thanked Uluras and Niris for their kindness and guidance. The young wizard descended down the gangway joining his friends side as he assessed his foreign surroundings.

Jacob placed a hand on Newt’s shoulder. “You know what you’re doing?”

Newt’s eyes flew up to Uluras who gave him a nod. “In a way.”

Jacob turned to look back up at the ship that was already sailing back out to sea. He waved goodbye to the two men onboard. Niris waved his cap down at them and wished them luck on their journey.

“Don’t forget to thank Zanj Lanmè!” Uluras yelled.

The two men waved to the angel carved onto the ship, yelling their thanks. To Newt's amusement and Jacob’s amazement, the wooden angel animated, giving them a soft smile as it waved back. His mouth fell agape as he watched the ship leave. Newt turned from the sea and pushed on, leaving behind a stunned Jacob.

“Did you see that?” He asked as he rushed to catch up.

The harbor reminded Newt a lot of Diagon Alley, though it was considerably smaller. Besides the docks and the street peddlers, there were also shops and inns, and a lone pub. Alas, it was not the pub he hoped. Its name did not start with a B, nor did it have a B in it at all.

Hanging above the entrance was a metal plaque that read L'amante in bronze lettering underneath an etching of a couple kissing passionately.

“Want to grab a drink?” Jacob asked upon noticing Newt's gaze set upon the building.

Newt had no interest in going inside. He wanted to find Reinette as soon as possible. Still, he could admit that he was venturing on this quest blind. Left on foreign terrain, he decided that it would be useful to ask around. The two men veered to the pub, pushing through the salt damaged doors.

Upon entering, they were met with lively music and thunderous cheer. Much like Newt’s case, the pub was bigger on the inside, with many open levels that gave the appearance of a tower. Despite its overawing stature, the room was filled with warmth. It was a pleasant contrast to the cold greyscale of London. The first level of the pub was colored in hues of red, orange, and yellow. Gold glimmered in unexpected and opulent places. The dark wooded floors vibrated in reaction to the crowd of people dancing close to the stage where a live band played jazz. Scattered around the room where tables and booths, many of which were filled. Along the right side of the establishment was a bar that stretched from either side of the room. Jacob noticed it instantly and headed straight in its direction.

He took a seat on a circular stool. He blew raspberries with his lips and drummed his hands on the, frankly, sticky wood surface as he waited for a bartender. He even peaked over the counter just in case this pub was manned by a house-elf like the speakeasy Tina and Queenie had once taken them to. Newt had taken a seat next to him, placing his case on the floor by his feet. Not long after a woman came up to them on the other side of the counter. She had thick curly brown hair braided down her back and dark olive skin. She wore an orange dress complimented by a gold apron. She grabbed a wet rag from a nook behind the counter and began swabbing the counter.

“Che cosa vuoi?” She asked, though she was not looking at them. The two men stared blankly, unable to understand. In their silence she gave in and looked straight at them, clearly irritated by their presence.

“What do you want?” She asked again, this time in English.

“Water, please,” Newt answered for the both of them, though Jacob seemed a bit displeased by it.

She moved instantly to grab two clear glasses, filling them up with ice as a pitcher of water floated in the air to fill them. She handed them their respective glasses. “So you’re Englishmen?”

“He’s English. I’m American,” said Jacob. “Though my mom’s mom was Italian.” He said as a matter-of-fact and smiled awkwardly in an attempt to make small conversation. The bartender, however, didn’t seem to care.

“Welcome to Napoli,” She said dryly. “What brings you here? It must be important for you to come with the travel ban and all.”

The two shifted uncomfortable in their seats, like two children who had just been caught in a lie.

“Do not worry,” the bartender assured them. “I will not tell. It is not my business to share.”

Jacob relaxed a little and took a sip of his cold water. Newt was still tensed. “Well,” he began, hesitant. “We are looking for someone. I was told she works in pub like this one. Perhaps you know her?”

The woman shrugged. “Maybe I do. Do you have a name?”

“Reinette.”

“Dispiace. I do not recognize the name.” She said simply, and turned away to help another customer. Newt stopped her before she got too far, still hoping she could help in some way.

“You don’t suppose you know anyone who might? She is a seer—”

“A seer you say?” She cut in. Newt nodded.

The bartender looked beyond the two men to a waitress waiting tables on the floor. “Azura!” She called to her. The waitress lifted her head towards the direction of the bar. The bartender waved her over. “Vieni qui per favore.”

The waitress finished serving a couple seated at a table before walking over towards the three of them and standing next to Newt, a bit closer than he’d like. “Che?”

“These men are looking for a seer. You once knew a seer, no? What was her name?”

The woman pursed her lips in thought. “Intendi, Reinette?”

“That’s her!” Jacob chimed in. “She said Reinette, right? You said Reinette?”

The waitress, Azura, frowned. “What do you want with Reinette?”

“We were hopping she could tell us that,” said Newt.

She sighed. “If it is a vision you want, she won’t give it to you. She hasn’t seen anyone in years.”

“Still,” Newt insisted. “We must find her. It’s important we see her. Please.”

“Look, whoever sent you led you in the wrong direction. Reinette left for Sicily years ago. That is all I know.”

“Sicily? As in the island? As in an island a hundred miles away from here in the middle of the Mediterranean ocean?” Jacob rubbed the sides of his temple. “That’s just great.” He held his glass up to the bartender. “I’m gonna need something a little stronger sweetheart.” The bartender rolled her eyes and reluctantly took his glass.

“Where in Sicily may we ask?” Newt pressed. The waitress thought to herself for a moment.

“Syracuse, I think. I can’t be sure.”

Newt nodded. “Thank you.”

“Prego.” As she left Jacob downed another drink. Newt stood from his seat and shifted around his coat pocket for change and placed it on the counter.

Jacob put down his glass. “What, we’re leaving now?”

“Yes,” said Newt as he lifted his case from the ground and maneuvered his way out of the tavern with Jacob stumbling close behind. “Right now!”

⁎ ⊹ ⁂ ˚ ✧ ⁂ ⊹ ＊

After the pub, Newt took Jacob from the port into the city. According to Newt, they would have to find another boat that sailed to Sicily. Uluras and the Zanj Lanmè were long gone and the port they entered in was a trading port; none of the ships would take them to Sicily even if there wasn’t a travel ban. They were on their own. Italy seemed much livelier than Paris or London ever had in Jacob’s opinion. At least in the city of Naples, the people weren’t afraid of a bit fun.

Jacob followed behind Newt in a distracted stupor, occasionally brushing shoulders with other pedestrian's and whirling his heading every witch-way to take in the sights. He tried his best to keep up with Newt’s long strides, but was halted by a young street vendor pushing delicious-smelling pastries in his face.

“Try, you must try! Best pastries in Napoli!” The young teen pedaled.

Jacob scrunched his nose. “What is it?”

The curly-haired boy gave Jacob an over-friendly smile and spoke excitedly. “Panzerotti. It’s meat, cheese, an—”

“Yeah, give me that.” Jacob pulled two coins and traded it with the boy. He took the pastry and continued down the street as the boy thanked him. The young boy looked down at the two American coins.

“EHI! Non puoi pagare con questo! Figlio di puttana, mi servono gli lire!”

Jacob ignored the boy's fast-spilling curses and took a pleasing bite out of his treat. He spotted Newt’s distinctive coat in a small crowd surrounding a man pedaling boat tickets.

“Oh, Jacob, there you are. What’s that?”

“Panzerotti,” Jacob said with a mouth full of food. He held the wrapped pastry up to Newt. “Wanna bite?”

Newt looked down at the cheesy meat-filled delight. “No, I don’t think so.” He turned his head towards the man selling tickets and Jacob shrugged his shoulders.

“Poi ho i biglietti per la Sicilia, tremila lire ciascuno! Tremila lire a testa per la Sicilia!”

“That’s Sicily. Yes! Yes, here!” Newt pushed through the crowd to the front with Jacob.

“How many?” Asked the ticket pedlar.

Newt held up two fingers. “Two.”

The man held out his hand. “Six thousand lire.”

Newt fished in his coat pocket and conveniently pulled out the aforementioned amount and currency. The man took it and counted for good measure before handing him two tickets.

“It leaves tonight at seven, the red steam ship.”

Newt nods, quickly thanks the man, and dives back into the crowd. Jacob takes the last bite of his panzerotti and crumbles the paper wrapping and tosses it to the side.

“So what, we just gonna stand around for seven hours?” Jacob asks Newt as he swallowed. Newt shrugged. He looked around in search of a place to set up and regroup. Jacob sighs, “Well we should get room or something. I’d like to sleep on a bed that doesn’t rock before I get on another ship.”

Newt and Jacob walked side by side on the street in search of an inn. As they walked, a swell of music increasingly crept closer. Not far ahead a crowd of people gathered in a large square dressed in various shades of blue, green, and white. It was a jovial communion to be sure, as there were celebrants dancing, drinking, eating and various other festival-like activities. Newt finds himself smiling at the children scampering by holding hand kites, his eyes catching sight of the rag doll tucked tightly under a little girl’s shoulder—a mermaid. Jacob was smiling too. As they looked around, they noticed lots of mermaid iconography decorated the square.

They walked slowly, hoping to immerse themselves in the festivities they unknowingly integrated themselves in. There was a small crowd of people gathered off to the side, mostly children, but also adults who stood towards the back and sides. The two foreign beholders kept to the background onlooking a puppet theatre. The children sat entranced on the ground as they watched the puppets. It seemed to a be fairy tale, some version of the little mermaid. The colorful puppets depicted a prince of sorts on a beach meeting with a mermaid. The children seemed to enjoy it, especially the young girls.

Jacob turned his head and saw another crowd gathering on the other side of the square. There was a large circular fountain that enclosed a statue of a mermaid perched on a rock facing the sea. People gathered around and threw various things inside it, mainly coins, but also beads, flowers, and jewelry. Essentially any small pretty thing. Newt followed Jacob's eye-line to the overcrowded fountain.

Jacob gently stopped a man as he walked by. “Excuse me? You speak English?” Thankfully the man nodded. “What are they doing over there?

“They are giving offerings for la principessa sirena,” he explained quite enthusiastically.

“The mermaid princess.” Newt translates for Jacob.

Jacob side-eyed Newt. “Yeah, I got that,” he said flatly.

The man smiled. “Sì, signore. Over a hundred years ago, the king of Naples, Joachim Murat was drunkenly wandering the cliffs when he stumbled and fell into the sea. He nearly drowned but was saved by a mermaid. The king fell in love and continued to visit la sirena for years after. Soon, they produced a child: la principessa sirena.”

Jacob pursed his lips and blew a low whistle. “Lucky guy.”

The guide laughs and shakes his head. “I would not say he is so lucky,” he says. “Eventually, his queen, Napoleon Bonaparte’s little sister, discovered his adultery, and in a jealous rage, she sent for her brother to avenge her, ordering the king’s lover and child to be killed. By the time the king got wind of the assassination, it was too late. His sirena had been murdered on the very shore he had fallen for her.”

“What happened to the kid?” asked Jacob.

“It is said she was lost to the sea,” he shrugs. “However, many years later, long after the king had died, a fisherman was caught in a storm, and he was swallowed by the waves. The storm was so powerful he should have drowned. When he woke up, he was on the shore unharmed. He returned to his village and told the townspeople he was saved by a beautiful mermaid. He believed her to be the lost princess, king Joachim’s love child. He built the sculpture in honor of her, and every year on the day he was saved, the people of Naples, Ischia, Procida, and Capri will come here with offerings for love and prosperity.”

Jacob scoffed and nudged Newt with his elbow. “Maybe we should make an offering, huh Newt?” He jokes.

Newt flushed slightly, the fleeting image of Tina swept across his mind and tugged at his heartstrings. Jacob thanked the man and he walked away. The two men walked towards the fountain.

“What did you think of that?” Asked Jacob.

“Of what?”

“Do you think it’s true?” He pointed his thumb over his shoulder. “What the guide said about the mermaids and what not.”

Newt hummed disapprovingly. “Probably not.”

Jacob furrowed his brows, skeptical. “How come?”

“Well there are no merpeople in the Gulf of Naples, let alone the Tyrrhenian Sea.”

“So there are mermaids,” Jacob smiled excitedly.

“Yes, there are many different species of merpeople throughout the world. There are even merpeople that exist in the Great Lakes.”

Jacob’s mouth fell open. “You’re kidding.”

“No, I’m not.” Newt said matter-of-fact.

“Well why aren't there any here in Naples? Isn’t Greece and Italy, like, the home of mermaids?” Jacob asked as he eyed the supposed mermaid princess.

“Yes. In fact Naples was once called Partenope after a siren of Greek mythology. But sirens haven't existed in the Mediterranean for hundreds of years.” New explained.

“What happened to them?”

“No one knows for sure how or why, but it is speculated that they were hunted to extinction.”

“Oh.” Jacob’s shoulders fell slightly. They stood in silence for a moment until Jacob dived in his pocket for two simple coins. He spit on them, much to Newt’s surprise and minor disgust, and shined them with the corner of his vest. He handed one to Newt who hesitantly took it between his two fingers.

Jacob closed his eyes for a moment, a wrinkle forming between his brows as the silence between them lingered, then kissed the coin before tossing it into the fountain bowl.

“I was never a superstitious person. I ain’t never believed in…a higher power or anything before.” Jacob spoke carefully, and Newt could tell that this was something he needed to stay silent for and listen. “My Gran was. Church every Sunday and Wednesday, pray before every meal, before walking out the door, in the morning and before bed at night. She’d cross her chest if she saw a black cat cross the street, toss salt over her shoulders, hated anything having to do with the number thirteen and picked up every lucky penny she could find. I thought she was nuts, but y’know, that’s my Gran.”

“Then me and my brother got shipped off to France, and my Grandma snuck rosaries, prayer coins, and a rabbit’s foot— if you can believe it—into our bags. Told us to carry them on us always. Anyway, you think about stuff like that during the war. One day my brother and I was stuck in a church in France with our group waiting for reinforcements. We was laying low. We knew they was out there. They knew we was in there. It feels like you’re waiting forever when you’re like that. I was standing by a window that had been poorly boarded up when the light leaking from it cast on the floor. A dirty old franc was sitting heads up on the floor and it got me thinking of my Gran. ‘She’d pick that up’ I thought, and it made me smile for the first time in months. So, I bent down and picked it up.” Jacob sighed, and swallowed the lump forming in his throat. “Just as my fingers pick up the coin, a bullet flies right over my head and hits my brother in the chest.”

“Jacob… I’m so sorry.” Newt attempts to comfort his lamenting friend.

“Yeah, I know,” Jacob puts a thankful hand on Newt’s shoulder. He cleared is throat to keep his voice from cracking.“I lost my brother…But picking up that franc got me home. Got me one last year with my Gran before she passed. Made me chase my dream of opening a bakery. Then I met you, my best friend. I learned about a whole new magical world I couldn’t even dream of. And I met the most beautiful, crazy, talented witch who also happens to be the love of my life. Now she’s gone. I don’t know what we’re doing here. I don’t know what’s going on. All I know is I need all the luck I can get to get my girl back. So, sometimes I throw a coin in a fountain and hope that something—God, Fate,” he chuckled and lazily gestured to the statue. “Or a mermaid princess—anything—will listen.”

Newt squeezes Jacob’s shoulder. “She will, Jacob.”

Jacob forced a smile. He gestured to the coin still in Newt’s hand. “You should too. For Tina.”

Tina. Newt’s nervous system went haywire at the very mention of her name. There was a moment when he and Tina finally connected on a deep level, when there hearts perhaps started to beat at the same rhythm after being off key for so long. But it seems every time they take a step forward something happens to push them back, whether it’s a misunderstanding, her work as an auror, the estrangement of a sister, or the loss of an old friend…an old love.

All newt wanted was to feel right. Nothing felt right, not in his personal life or in the world. Everything has gone sideways from the moment Dumbledore sent him to New York. If he spent a moment with an unoccupied mind he’d become overwhelmed with all he endured. In truth, that’s partially why he took Dumbledore up on this secret, ambiguous mission. The months he and Jacob had been mulling about were dreary to say the least. His beasts and Bunty kept him somewhat busy but not busy enough. At least the mission would help combat the off-ness he was battling ever since Paris.

Something right, he thought, and tossed the coin into the fountain. Jacob gave Newt a few hefty pats on the back and the two stepped back into the cobblestone street in search of a place to rest.

⁎ ⊹ ⁂ ˚ ✧ ⁂ ⊹ ＊

“Jacob wake up.”

Jacob jolts awake as Newt gently shakes his shoulder. It was sunset, and the sky had turned into shades of orange and purple.

“The ship leaves in an hour. We should head there now.” Newt says as he buttons his vest.

Jacob gives a lethargic nod and groan as he sits up in the bed. They’d found a muggle pub that had beds available upstairs. Newt had made a comment about it being similar to a wizard pub called The Leaky Cauldron in London. The moment Jacob laid on the bed sleep took over and his snores filled the room. Newt wasn’t tired, surprisingly, and stayed awake. He minded his case, giving Jacob and himself deserved silence. Newt had managed to do a considerable amount of work in the gap of time. He was worried about the niffler pups. Wily creatures as they were, prone to sickness were they also. The mother had passed after birth, leaving Teddy too depressed to nurture the litter on his own, the poor sod. Newt and Bunty did their best to nurse them with mooncalf milk, but it isn’t filled with the same antibodies the pups would need to build their immune systems fast. One of the pups had caught a nasty infection that Newt had been treating. Anyone else wouldn’t notice by how adamant she was at chasing around after her littermates. Newt made use of his time to treat and care for her and any other creatures he brought with him. Yet, by the time he’d finished, he wished he had at least tried to rest like Jacob suggested.

“Did you get any sleep?” Jacob asked groggily, noticing the dark circles around Newt’s eyes.

“I’ll sleep on the ship tonight.” Newt assured, though he convinced no one. Sleep hadn’t been his nightly companion for a while, and it was starting to show. Jacob only hummed in response as he put his jacket over his shoulders. The two walk to the port where the red steamship was boarding passengers to Sicily. Getting there and getting on took about an hour, but once on the ship, they found their cabin and waited for the ship to push off.

Jacob sat on the bed across from Newt. “So this Dumbledore guy is sending you to Sicily to get palm reading or something?” Jacob asked after a small moment of silence.

“A seer can do a lot more than palm reading, Jacob.” Newt chided. “A seer can prophecy the future. Predict fates. Deliver omens.”

“Like we need any more omens,” Jacob muttered bitterly.

Newt sighed through his nose. “I don’t know why we’re going to Sicily, Jacob,” he admitted. “I don’t know the seer we’re supposed to find, and I don’t know what she will tell us once we get there…if she’s there… Truth is, I don’t know much of anything anymore, Jacob. I haven’t since—”

“I know,” Jacob said softly.

“But I couldn’t just sit around feeling sorry for myself anymore. Not while Theseus and Tina are off Merlin knows where…not after Leta...” Newt picked at the skin of his fingernails. It’d become a habit of his, and now his fingers were rough and jagged from frayed hang nails, picked raw and often bleeding. Jacob’s sorrowful expression only made Newt feel more microscopic. How frustrating. “Whatever this is about, I’m sure we’ll know soon. Dumbledore loves being cryptic, but it’s not without reason.” He ended simply.

Jacob nodded, eyeing his friend closely. He opened his mouth to say something, but a second thought closed his mouth for him. “No matter what, I trust you Newt,” he said instead. “This Grindelwald…He’s got to be stopped. I’m with you.”

Newt looked up from his hands to see Jacob holding a comforting smile across his face; one he couldn’t help but return. Just then, they heard the ship’s horn blare. The ship jolted forward, and Jacob rocked back into his bed. He screwed his eyes shut and held on to the metal bars of the bed frame. “Oh, God. Newt, you got anymore of that seasickness potion…stuff?”

Newt let out a humorous chuff and nodded. He placed his suitcase on the floor between them, opened it, and stepped inside to retrieve the potion for Jacob.

⁎ ⊹ ⁂ ˚ ✧ ⁂ ⊹ ＊

Newt sat on the grass of the kelpie enclosure watching as the magnificent creature swam about freely. A few of the niffler pups were sleeping soundly in his lap. He stroked their fur absentmindedly while deep in thought. He thought mostly about he’d get to Syracuse. The ship most likely wouldn’t take them directly there, and would instead stop on the opposite side of the island. The travel ban made things rather difficult in times like this. It was mildly hilarious the Ministry lifted his personal travel ban after his assist in Paris only for the International Confederation to implement one on the entire wizarding world. Of course he understood why. It would ultimately help single out Grindelwald and his acolytes, as they were sure to not stay put in one area for long. Any unauthorized travel would immediately be flagged by aurors to investigate. But Dumbledore, often not in alignment with the wishes of those in power, had his own agendas and operations to conduct that would not be executed by the Ministry even if he asked. So, naturally everything Newt is doing is unsanctioned and therefore illegal. Drawing any attention to himself will endanger the mission. There is no doubt the Ministry already know he’s no longer in England. Theseus definitely knows by now, he thought.

Theseus checked in on Newt every week since Paris. Often after he’d drunk himself to lunacy. He’d come by, overly-affectionate and smelling of fire whiskey. Newt would make him something to eat while Theseus talked about things he didn’t care about until he finally divulges the latest inner workings of the Ministry and the investigation with Grindelwald. Then he’d get sad about Leta and cry, eventually passing out on his couch. He was happy to be there for his brother the first few times he stumbled up his stoop, but after a while it just got embarrassingly sad, and it didn’t help with his own melancholy. Theseus probably tried to visit not long after he and Jacob already left. Bunty most likely answered the door and gave him the latest update without divulging his whereabouts. Theseus would be upset to be sure, but his loyalty and trust in Dumbledore will keep him and the Ministry out of it until need be. Best not give them a reason to, though.

They could easily track him down if he used certain magic transportation such as apparition; he was, unfortunately, a wizard of interest, thusly under persistent watch. Though, he couldn’t apparate to Syracuse even if he wanted to, as he’d never been before. Besides, even if he had, he’d never apparated such a significant distance; and with Jacob in tow, so much could go wrong. He’d hate to be the reason Jacob got splinched, or worse. The best way would be through the floo network. It’s hard to track individuals through it. Finding it would be the hardest part. He wasn’t familiar with the network outside of Britain, but if he could find a wizard town, he could find the floo network. A small smile curled the corners of his mouth. Jacob hadn’t used the floo network before. It’d be fun to watch him try it for the first time.

Rising to his feet, he carefully collected the sleeping niffler pups in his hand and walked them to their den. Teddy was there, lazying about in his hole as he so often did since his mate passed. He placed the pups in their respective holes and gave Teddy a soft pet on his back. He new all too well how he felt.

He walked back to the shed to sit on his cot. His eyes were heavy from their lack of rest, prominent bags hung underneath his brilliant hazel orbs. He laid on his back, fluffing and tucking the pillow under his head. He stared at the ceiling for a while, still unable to settle his brain. If his mind settled for even a moment, granting him momentary peace, some thought or image would shock his nervous system awake. He tossed and turned, eventually landing on his side facing his work bench. His eyes drifted up to the pictures framed on its surface. One picture was of Tina, a picture she had sent him a few months ago. She looked brilliant. She had her hair parted to the side and curled. She smiled sweetly, her image swayed awkwardly from side to side, laughing at her own shyness. It’d been a while since he’d gotten a letter from her. Partially his fault, he knew. He wasn’t the most engaging penpal, not lately.

But beyond his own faults, he knew her focus was on the rescue of her sister. He wanted to write. Merlin, did he want to tell her so much. But every time he tried to put quill to paper he was left with ink blots. His eyes drifted to the picture hanging above Tina’s on the wall. Leta. Newt’s heart ached at her image. Every time he looked at it he was transported back to the night she died. The tears in her eyes, the scared look on her delicate face, the last words she spoke…

A sudden jolt shook Newt from his thoughts. Dust fell from the ceiling and the light fixture above him swayed. Newt furrowed his brows. A loud, heavy, crashing sound came from outside the case, and Newt sat up in his cot. An earthquake like rumble shook the case, sending the beasts inside in a frenzy. Newt’s head whipped around to the workbench as vials, books, and tools started crashing to the ground. He jumped from his cot to catch Tina’s picture before it fell to the ground, only to hear the sound of shattering glass as Leta’s picture fell from the wall and onto the floor. Newt didn’t have time to bend down to retrieve the photo before the hatch of his case swung open.

“NEWT!” Jacob sounded frantic and terrified. “NEWT WE GOT A PROBLEM, GET UP HERE!”

Newt quickly dressed himself and tucked Tina’s picture frame into his coat pocket. He climbed up the latter with haste and took Jacobs outstretched hand once he reached the top. Jacob pulled him out of the case and held him by his sleeves. The ship was rocking dangerously. Outside their cabin an attendant was yelling for passengers to stay calm. A clap of thunder sounded after a near blinding flash of lightning filled the cabin. Rain poured and smacked heavily against the ships metal, creating a consistent drumming. The ship was smack in the middle of a raging storm, and while the muggle crew tried to keep things calm and orderly, assuring the passengers that everything would be fine, Jacob and Newt knew better; because they both could tell it was no ordinary storm. Newt looked out the porthole to see rough sees and black skies. Another flash of lightning and Newt could see the swirling pattern of a magic-made storm in the rolling clouds.

“I was resting and the storm came out of nowhere,” said Jacob. “One minute calm seas, the next I’m hearin’ buckets of rain and thunder—the ship rocked so hard I fell out of the bed!”

Newt quickly packed up his case and opened the cabin door, jumping back when an attendant rushed by him in a panic. The young man looked over his shoulder to Newt. “Please, remain in your cabin! Everything is fine!” He ordered, though he was less than convincing. He didn't even check to make sure Newt went back inside before running off and disappearing around the corner. Wand in hand, Newt started in the opposite direction towards the front of the ship. Jacob followed close behind, nearly tripping up the steps attempting to follow Newt’s gazelle-like strides.

The two men could barely keep their eyes open once on deck. The wind howled like a banshee in their ears. Their clothes were drenched within seconds, and the barren deck floors were practically flooded with water. “WHAT IS THIS NEWT?” Jacob yelled over the sound of puffing wind and rain.

Newt looked around, searching as best he could through squinted eyes for the source of the storm. “IT’S GRINDELWALD!” Newt shouted. “SOMETHING MUST’VE HAPPENED. HE KNOWS WE’RE HERE, HE’S SENT THEM TO STOP US!”

“WHO?”

One by one, members of The Alliance apparated onto the deck, surrounding them.

“Them…” said Newt darkly.

“A bit far from home, no, Mr. Scamander?” One of the acolytes taunted. Newt recognized him from Paris.

“Give us the case and we’ll be on our way!” A dark witch laughed.

Newt clutched his case tightly and hid it behind his legs, protectively raising his wand. His case? Why on Earth would they want his case?

“The relic is all we want. Give it to us and we’ll leave you and your muggle pet alone.” Jacob glared at the wizard who bestowed the offensive moniker. Newt furrowed his brows, but kept his mouth shut.

“HEY!”

Several heads turn to look at one of the crewmen perched behind the bannister of the second level. He peered down at them and flailed his arms about. “CHE DIAVOLO STAI FACENDO? GET BACK INSIDE!”

“AVADA KEDAVRA!”

A green beam shot from one of the acolyte’s wand and struck the crewman in the chest. His body fell limp instantly, completely robbed of life. His limp form fell over the railing and onto the lower deck floor with a horrendous thud. His limbs sprawled out like a rag doll. Jacob yelled in horror as he stared at the corpse only feet away from him. Newt retaliated, casting a disarming spell and sending the dark wizard’s wand flying. Probably not the best idea.

A flurry of light from casted spells bombarded Newt, who protected himself and Jacob with a shield. As Newt was blocking dark spells, a wizard apparated between him and Jacob, taking a bold dive for his case. Newt evaded them and took a page out of Jacob’s defensive tactics; he swung the heavy leather case high enough to strike it across their face. The pilferer fell to the floor hard with a splash. Newt took Jacob’s hand and pulled him along as he ran back towards the cabins. Jacob ducked down as Newt expertly blocked every spell that came their way. Seven against one, and Newt was holding his own well enough to keep them both alive. A witch with stringy brown hair cackled and pointed her wand high in the air. The sky above them roared with thunder and a bolt of lightning shot down to her wand. She redirected the lighting and struck the ground with it in Newt’s path. The lighting missed him by an inch, singeing the ends of his curls. The impact sent him flying to the ground and had him lose his grip on both Jacob and the case, dispersing them both away from him.

Jacob slid back into a bench. The case slid a few feet away, halfway between himself and the brown-haired witch. Seeing an opportunity, the witch cast a summoning spell, pulling the case towards her. Newt acted quickly, his instincts acting faster than his brain could catch up. With a flick of his wand, he cast a spell that seized control of the toiling ship.

“JACOB HOLD ON!” He warned his defenseless friend. Jacob heeded his words and found the leg of the bench bolted to the floor. He closed his eyes and hooked his arm around it tightly, muttering a silent prayer.

The ship was already treading rocky seas due to the storm, but with Newt’s spell the waves reached new heights. A large wave formed at his command and pushed the ship side-ways, causing it to tilt steeply. One by one the black-clad wizards lost their balance, falling hard and sliding across the slick floor beneath them. The witch lost her footing and focus, crashing to the ground and hitting her jaw firm on the ground as she slipped forward, unable to brace herself properly. As Newts body slid backwards, the case started sliding at speed down to the ships railing. He angled his body in a way to slide towards his case.

He outstretched his hand and braced himself. “ACCIO!” He summoned the case swiftly into his hand.

Using his wand, he held it like a stake and used a spell to fix it to the floor. It fused to the wood floor, and his tight grip around it kept him from sliding further as the ship continued to tilt. A few of the wizards slid by him, struggling to keep themselves from slipping. One had used a spell to fuse their feet to the ground and tried holding their comrades hand to keep them from falling. But their hands were too slick from the rain and they let go of each other’s grip sending the unfortunate one sliding down to the ship’s railing. He scrambled for something to get a hold of, but ultimately failed, and Newt watched as he flew by him and off the side of the ship into the raging water.

Newt looked around until his eyes fell on Jacob, who had managed to stay on board. As the ship started to tilt back into it’s centered position, Newt began crawling towards him. Some stray spells were cast at him as he army crawled, but each one missed, scorching the floor around him. When he reached Jacob he grabbed the fabric of his coat in instantly apparated them back into the halls of the ship. Their bodies fell onto the floor of the hall in a wet heap.

Inside was pandemonium. Below deck, the passengers and crewmen of the ship were running around like chickens without heads. People rushed and pushed by Newt and Jacob, completely unaware of their sudden appearance in the hall. They yelled and screamed, rushing in and out of cabins with cases and life vests. The crewmen were attempting to urge them back inside, but the passengers were adamant on securing life vests and escaping up to life boats in a panic. Newt helped Jacob up to his feet and held his arm while dragging him through the bustling halls.

A familiar swishing sound came from behind them and they whirled their heads to see one of the acolytes apparate into the hall. Jacob spilled a curse from his mouth as the acolyte spotted them through the chaos. “Go, go go go!” He rushed, pushing Newt forward and following quickly behind.

They rounded the corner, pushing past scrambling persons and searching for a way out or a place to hide. The ship rocked dangerously and the lights flickered in regular intervals. Behind them the acolyte stalked them, evading and pushing anyone who got in his way. Eventually another joined him, appearing seemingly out of nowhere. “Where’re we going Newt?” Jacob asked, his voice wavering in fear.

Newt didn’t answer, his focus solely on his surroundings as he searched for some quick exit. Ahead at the end of the hall he caught sight if a door to their right, a staff door to be sure, that led to the boilers. Picking up the pace Newt headed for the boiler. Behind them, the frustrated acolytes got bombarded by a frantic passenger. He came up to one of them and tried to pull them back towards the front of the ship, yelling in Italian. The poor man was cast with the killing curse, his body falling limp on top of the acolyte. Jacob watched in horror as he kept behind Newt. The acolyte threw the mans heavy body to the ground and started in a jog after them. “Newt!” Jacob warned, and Newt looked back to see their trackers rushing for them.

The two men started in a sprint down the hall. An offensive spell hit above their head, setting off sprinkles inside the hall. Newt pointed his wand in no particular direction over his shoulder, pushing one of the acolytes back several feet. He pressed down on Jacob’s shoulder, helping him duck under another spell that set the light fixture aflame. Catching an idea, Newt cast a spell to break the lights in the hall. One by one the lights sparked and burst, darkening the hall until it was completely black. They used the cover of the dark to rush behind the staff door and Newt cast a spell to keep it locked. The steel door protected them from the offensive cast propelled at it and after a few rattling bangs, the spells stopped. Jacob breathed out a sigh of relief and clutched his beating chest.

“Newt,” Jacob called between heavy breaths.

“Yes?” Newt answered through his own labored inhales.

“Don’t ever invite me on vacation again.”

Newt let out an airy chuckle and nodded. He rest his head against the cool steel door and stood in stillness to catch his breath. Jacob took in their dark surroundings, loosening his wet collar that stuck to his damp skin. It was warmer in this hall of the ship than the rest.

“So what now?” Jacob asked helplessly.

Newt swallowed and opened his eyes. There was a ladder that defended down deeper into the ship. He jutted his head in it’s direction for Jacob to see. “Down.”

He and Jacob walked to the ladder and descended several feet. Their feet planted on a metal walkway. Newt leads, following the signs that lead to the boiler room. Newt knew they couldn’t hide in the ship forever, not with six acolytes after them. He just needed time to think of a way out of this. He could keep fighting? No. He’d be putting the people on the ship in even more danger. The muggles shouldn’t have to suffer any more because of him. The heat of the boiler room increased the deeper they went. When they reached the furnaces, the water on their skin had evaporated and been replaced with sweat. Newt clenched his jaw. Somehow Grindelwald and his acolytes knew where he was and where he was going. He needed to figure out how to get him and Jacob safely off the ship in a way they cant track him.

Apparition was out of the question. He was too far from anything familiar, and he barely knew the surroundings and locations of Naples to apparate back without risking splinching. Newt squeezed the handle of his suitcase. He could only think of one way out, and it was mad. Jacob wasn’t going to like it. Not one bit.

They needed to get to the deck again. If they could hide among the chaos, the acolytes wouldn’t be able to find them and they could escape unnoticed. By the time they’d realize they had escaped, it would be too late. The back of the ship would be best. There’d be fewer muggles as most of them would be arguing amongst themselves on the main deck where the greater portion of the life boats resided. Newt followed the signs that read ‘aft’.

There were just over half a hundred men yelling and rushing in the boiler room they hardly noticed Newt and Jacob as the pushed through. One worker grabbed Newt by the arm and started yelling at him in Italian whilst point back towards the front of the ship, no doubt urging them to get out of their way and back to the passengers’ cabins. Newt apologized, ignoring his instructions and freeing himself from his grip to continue towards the back of the ship. He could see the exit up when a dark, cloaked figure emerged from behind one of the furnaces. Newt stopped in his tracks and held out and arm to block Jacob. Flanking them on either side were two others similarly uniformed assailants. More of the boiler room workers noticed and surrounded them at this point. They were all yelling at them to leave, frustrated and cursing in both English and Italian, only to be ignored.

Newt’s eyes trailed down at the wand in the acolytes hand ahead of him. He stood still, waiting to see who would make the first move, keeping the others in his periphery, ready to catch and retaliate against any sudden movement. It was the witch to his left that moved first. She cast a spell at him, but he dove for the ground just in time, pulling Jacob down with him. The cast flew over their heads and hit the wizard on their right, sending him flying into a wall of scorching pipes. He let out a blood curling scream. The workers, terrified, fled the area, climbing up stairs and ladders to the upper decks.

“Expelliarmus!” Newt sent the witch’s wand flying into one of the open furnaces. A raging fire exploded in the furnace, and Newt used his arms to protect his face from the heat of the flames. The flames flashed various colors as the magical item sparked and burned to ash.

“NO!” Screamed the powerless witch. She furiously started for Newt, sprinting with her arms out stretched to grab him. He leapt to his feet and pointed his wand to a nearby mound of coal. He quickly cast a charm to send them flying in her direction. She attempted to evade them, but stopped in her tracks as hundreds of coal rocks pelted her at high speed. She shrieked and covered her face as she stumbled backward, eventually turning on her heels to run off and hide away.

“NEWT!” Jacob yelled.

Suddenly, a feeling like a graphorn charging and bunting him in the stomach sent him flying back. He slid back a ways on the floor, and his mouth opened to expel a silent scream. The air had been completely knocked from his lungs, and he rolled over on his side in pain. He had a firm enough grip on his case to keep it by his side. Jacob ran towards Newt, but he only made it a few paces before he felt something pulling him back. The acolyte used a spell to summon Jacob to him.

Jacob shouted to Newt for help, doing his best to fight against this spell, but it was like being pulled back by an automobile heading in the opposite direction. His feet slipped from under him and his body dragged along the floor towards the pale-skinned dark wizard.

Newt gulped for breath and used all his strength to grab his case and get back on his feet. Once he managed to stand somewhat upright, he faced the acolyte, who now had Jacob in his grip, wand to throat.

“Give me the case,” he instructed. “Or your filthy muggle pet dies.”

“Newt,” Jacob’s wavering voice called out. “I know you love your creatures and all, but maybe this one time you could do what the crazy guy says, please?”

“Shut up!” The acolyte seethed. He eye’d Newt dangerously. “The case, now!”

Newt lifted his hands up in surrender. He slowly rose to his feet, slightly hunched over due to the pain in his back and side. He eyed Jacob, who struggled against the acolyte’s hold. Jacob met Newt’s eyes, and he could read by the look of them he had a plan, which did not ease his nerves. Newt gave Jacob a barely noticeable nod, and darted his eyes to the left. Jacob sighed and closed his eyes, thinking a silent prayer.

Using his foot, Newt pushes his case across the room towards the acolyte. Jacob, with all his strength, broke free from his grasp and dove to the right behind a furnace. The acolyte, satisfied, bent down to open the case. Once the lid reared back, he looked into the cavernous hole in bewildered shock. Not a moment later, a flurry of yellow, orange, and red burst from inside the case. An avian creature, similar to that of a phoenix let out unique screech as it circled the area. It was a large creature with a beautiful flaming wingspan and glowing plumage similar to that of a peacock. A firebird. The acolyte stepped back, and Newt pursed his lips to blow a melodic whistle. The firebird responded, mimicking the whistle with his song and dove fore the the acolyte. He retaliated, sending an series of attacks at the creature. The firebird, however, was swift and agile, dodging each spell. Newt then used his wand to cast a restraining spell on the acolyte, stiffening his arms at his sides. The firebird began swirling around the struggling dark wizard, and a funnel of flames emitted from its wings encasing him. He screamed in horror, unable to escape his fiery death as the firebird quickly incinerated him in it’s golden flames.

Jacob watched, awestruck, feeling the intense heat of the tornado-like flames. A bright flare of light had both him and Newt shielding their eyes, and then—nothing. The acolyte’s screams stopped and the heat died down. They uncovered their eyes to see the firebird descend upon a pile of ash that was once a person. The creature innocently cawed in Newt’s direction as it nestled in the ashes.

Newt rushed to his case and the bird. “Good boy,” he cooed as he stroked under the firebird’s beak with his finger. “Back in you go.”

The firebird obediently flapped its wings and flew into the air, circling a few times before barrel diving into the case. Newt closed the case and locked it, taking it by the handle and rushing to Jacob.

“Jacob, I’m so sorry. Are you alright?” He asked as he helped him to his feet.

Jacob, dazed, looked past Newt and down to the pile of ash on the floor. “You’re a little scary, you know that?”

Newt chuckled humorlessly. “Come on, let’s go.”

The two men headed towards the boiler room exit. The inside of the ship was practically barren. A few muggles littered the halls or kept themselves locked in their cabins, but the majority had escaped to the deck. They managed to get to the back of the ship undetected, once again opening a steel door to step into the storm. They trudged to ships the railing and gripped it tight to keep steady. Newt looked over the railing down to the black abyss below. He could hear the angry seawaters lapping at the sides of the ship and for a second he hesitated executing his mad plan. Jacob, concerned by the expression on Newt’s face, and the fact that he was looking so intently at the water below, spoke up.

“Newt? What are you planning?” He asked, afraid to hear the answer that might confirm his fears.

Newt looked at Jacob, a sorry look in his eyes. “Do you trust me Jacob?”

Jacob furrowed his brows. “Well now I’m not so sure!”

Ignoring Jacob’s doubt, Newt stepped several paces back, set his case down, and opened it. From it he summoned the kelpie. The great creature leapt from the bag and onto the deck, taking its favorite form of a horse.

Jacob shook his head disapprovingly. “Oh, no. Newt, no!”

“Jacob this is the only way we get out of this safely,” Newt implored. “The kelpie is extremely adaptable it can get us away safely.”

The kelpie chuffed and stomped a hoof on the floor. Reluctantly and with mutters of protest, Jacob cautiously made his way to the kelpie, and with Newt’s help managed to climb on it’s back. Newt went back to close the case and returned to hand it to Jacob. As Jacob took the case, his eyes drifted behind Newt and grew wide.

“NEWT LOOK OUT!”

Newt managed to step out of the way as a stray spell hit the kelpie on its backside. It reared on its hind legs and squealed, starting off at full speed to the railing of the ship.

“JACOB HOLD ON!” Newt called out. Jacob wrapped his arms around the kelpies vines. He screamed Newt’s name as the beast jumped over the railing like a hurdle and down towards the sea.

Turning around, Newt met the enclosing wall of the remaining acolytes. They wasted no time attacking him with spells. Newt, ever the defensive, blocked and dodged most of them, occasionally redirecting spells back at them. He successfully pushed one overboard after redirecting their spell, and another he managed to use a freezing charm to encase another acolyte’s legs inside solid blocks of ice stuck to the floorboards. Desperate, a witch called down a strike of lighting and dragged it across the deck, letting it scorch through the entirety of the ship, and setting it aflame. The act caused the ship to rumble and make a terrifying sound.

The act left them all unstable and they each fell to the ground. The floor beneath them cracked and split, opening like an egg. Newt pushed himself up by the elbows and watched as the ship tore apart. “No…”

Screams could be heard from the other side of the ship. The muggles cried in horror as the ship lit up in flames and broke beneath them. Several life boats had since been deployed, but there was still a significant left onboard struggling to get off. The acolytes disapparated one by one, seemingly finished with him. Newt was so distraught by the damage and sounds of people fearing for their lives, he didn’t notice the floor slowly giving away under him. He jumped back into his skin when the jolt of the floor breaking down beneath him made him slide towards the splitting cavern. Flipping onto his stomach, Newt army crawled in the opposite direction. He managed to make it to the side of the ship’s railing when a cable snapped from its rig and writhed about, ultimately hitting Newt in his back. The force of the heavy cable sent Newt hurdling into the sea.

His body went into shock from the searing pain. He didn’t have the mind or time to brace his body for impact with the thrashing sea below. It was another breathtaking blow when his body it the water. The impact had him take a sharp inhale, filling his lungs with water. Newt choked and struggled for breath while his body descended deep into the sea. He desperately searched for his wand, which had slipped form his grip during the fall. A flash of lighting from above revealed the wand floating down several meters away. With desperate strength, Newt swam as fast as he could to his wand, but the burning of his lungs made it increasingly difficult. He made it only a few feet before he started to lose conscious ness. His body went limp. His limbs sprawled about and his eyes struggled to stay open. The salty water stung his eyes and the lack of oxygen turned them bloodshot red.

He felt something slip from his chest, and from it floated his picture of Tina. He watched as the picture of Tina’s smiling face descended beneath him. Trying his best, he reached for the picture, hoping to grab it, but his attempt failed. So he watched helplessly as Tina’s photo drifted to the bottom of the sea, disappearing into the abyss. Newt closed his eyes and he realized he was dying. Not the way he’d imagined it would happen. He never presumed to live a long life, not with his life’s purpose being a magizoologist studying many dangerous magical beasts. He thought, perhaps, he would die at the hands of a nundu or a chimera. But drowning in a sea? How uninteresting.

He was prepared, too tired to fight off death, and welcomed it to take him, when suddenly he felt something swimming around him. It was a large something. Perhaps it was Jacob with his kelpie. But if that were the case it would not be circling him as much as it was. No. The pattern felt like something was…surveying him. Opening his eyes, Newt was met with nothingness, only the vast and empty sea below. He could feel it though. Something was watching him. He knew the feeling all to well; the feeling of being hunted.

He struggled to keep his consciousness, wanting for a glimpse. Perhaps it was nothing but a simple shark, gaging his weakness and preparing to strike. What did it matter? He thought. He prepared for the strike, or for his consciousness to finally give way, but it never came. Newt gave away his last moments of sentience to peace, and let the water comfort him.

Suddenly, there was no pain; and just when he had welcomed the will to let go, he felt a pair of arms hook underneath his shoulders. He could feel himself being pulled up from the water. A chest, a human chest pressed against his back and powerful strokes propelled their bodies through the sea. Scales. White, iridescent scales on the end of a large fishtail swishing fervently between his legs was the last thing he saw before his vision faded to black.

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❦ 𝘨𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘢𝘳𝘺

──── ⋅ ⍤ ⋅⊰⋅∘ 〄 ∘⋅⊱⋅ ⍤ ⋅ ────

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