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girlbossblackbeard · 7 months

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S2 TRAILER ANALYSIS WITH 1 BILLION SCREENSHOTS

obligatory warning that this post is gonna be SOOOOOOOOOOOOO foolishly long and rambling with all my silly little theories and thoughts and if you ALSO have silly little theories and thoughts you should ABSOLUTELY share them here please!!!! we can clown so much harder when our cacophonous honking harmonizes!!!!!!!

NOW ONTO THE POST (putting it under a read more so tumblr doesn't literally explode):

-the revenge looks BUSTED AF: i don't know if this is from general disrepair when ed is in his kraken era or if she was in a battle but her sails are all dirty in the opening shot of the trailer, and later we see stede on her deck with tattered sails and ropes everywhere, AND i'm like 99% sure that the shot of buttons ziplining from one ship to another is him going from the Chinese warfleet ship to the revenge, which i'm guessing is essentially stuck bc the sails are so torn they would never be able to catch the wind strongly enough to move her. I also wonder if the shot of roach shooting a canon at something is him shooting a canon at her since we had all those allusions to her exploding from samba, vico, and david on twitter all those months ago

-stede's earring: he DOES NOT HAVE THE EARRING when we see him lying on the deck next to roach and sighing dramatically nor does he have it during his conversation with Olu about stede dumping him, but he DOES have the earring in later shots like the beach english fight and when he's talking about being a failure his whole life which means WE WILL GET TO SEE STEDE GET HIS EAR PIERCED!!!!!!!!!! we'll get to see him make the decision to look even hotter and who knows who does the piercing for him idk!!!!!! @sluterastede had a dastardly beautiful thought in her brain about ed giving stede the piercing and stede making groaning noises and izzy once again thinking they're flapping their jacks right there on the deck in front of god and everybody!!!!!

-stede is spilling his heart out ("i let him down. i should've just told him how i feel") to susan on her ship (you can tell it's her by the long hair)

-interesting that there's a drawing of a donkey next to ed's wanted poster considering s1 had the line "a rich donkey is still a donkey". also i can't really read what the surrounding posters say other than "WANTED 20 GUINEAS". is this in the republic of pirates?

-stede says "i will find him" meaning ed may be actively avoiding stede at the beginning of the season???? (or the basic laws of travel physics have finally caught up to them)

-"look, captain, you know blackbeard's gonna murder you" i just think it's interesting that Olu is referring to him as blackbeard again even though ed told everyone in his pink robe era to call him ed. like it makes sense that he'd say blackbeard considering ed is on a rampage but it just made my brain wheels start spinning

-the Kraken crew are eating cake :)

-ed is holding a torch while letting the storm rain down on him: i don't think the laugh we hear is his because i don't think his mouth is even open during that slow-mo shot

-STEDE with a TEAR in his EYE as he says "i think i hurt him pretty bad"

-ed sobbing on the floor while the little bride cake topper is next to his head

-ed choking on the weed smoke i'm ACTUALLY crying, but also: where the fuck is ed when he's sitting in the chair smoking??? i thought it was on deck at first bc above his head is really dark and it looks like the lanterns we see on the deck of the revenge but there's a chandelier too?? it might be whatever shop Anne Bonny and her friend "you two know each other?" run bc behind ed in that chair is just a bunch of random furniture and a chandelier like we see when ed and stede are at the market. in fact, i think ed is smoking with Anne Bonny because I think that's her hand in the corner of that shot:

-"no more booze, no more drugs, and no more _____" not sure what the end of that sentence could be but we know that the "stede" that was put in there is NOT what he actually says!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

-"you two know each other?" now hold on a sec because it kinda sounds like stede met Anne Bonny and Co. separately from Ed/before that market scene (maybe in the teaser clip of Anne on Stede's lap??) WHAT IF WE GET THE AITA SCENARIO WHERE ED AND STEDE TELL PEOPLE ABOUT THEIR VERSION OF EVENTS AND NO ONE REALIZES THEY'RE TALKING ABOUT EACH OTHER UNTIL THAT MOMENT BC THEY'RE BOTH SO BIASED ABOUT ONE ANOTHER

-the evil guy definitely got his nose sliced off by Jackie. good for her :D I also don't think the evil guy is Hornigold, i'm still holding onto my theory that the man in the white rags we saw in the teaser and this trailer is hornigold's "ghost" that ed needs to contend with to find his inner peace or whatever a la stede with nigel's "ghost". but i DO think the evil guy is the rich prince dude from that leaked audition tape from rhys's friend. if memory serves, the guy wants to buy his way into the pirate lifestyle but he's pompous and entitled which makes him reckless. based off the production stills we also got today, he still had a nose when he went into Spanish Jackie's...but i don't think he leaves with one. so because he gets butthurt over invading a space that was NOT meant for him and faces the consequences of purposely disobeying their customs, he defects to the english navy and goes on a rampage against all piracy, very MRA energy :/ also, later izzy says to him "you don't know the first thing about piracy" which would further support that this guy just tried to buy his way in

-izzy gets an honest-to-god pegleg but he doesn't start the season off with it because we see him in several shots with both legs, like the wedding raid and swordfighting stede on the beach. unsure if he loses it due to infection from the toe situation or if he gets shot in the knee like i've seen some posts talk about, but @sluterastede mentioned that one of the leaked audition tapes for archie included dialogue about an amputation so maybe that character has to uh. Get Her Roach On

-as i mentioned before with the teaser analysis, izzy is clearly training stede for something and now im guessing it's the english but like we kinda knew that !

-olu is in a bar fight??

-THE "ED GETS CAUGHT IN A BUCKET ON A ROPE DURING THE STORM AND GOES OVERBOARD" THEORY IS OUT. THE "ED TIES HIMSELF TO A MF BIG ASS ROCK AND JUMPS OFF A GOD DAMN CLIFF TO GO ON SOME SOUL-SEARCHING JOURNEY UNDER THE SEA" THEORY IS IN. and what the FUCK is the rag man doing with ed up on that cliff hello?????? if my theory is correct and that is in fact hornigold's ghost or whatever, what advice or harmful shit is he saying that makes ed do that?????????????????????? but do note the large rock with the rope around it in the first pic

-the revenge crew is blowing up SOMETHING on the side of a building. maybe to cause a distraction or gain access inside the building? is it the side of Spanish Jackie's?? also hiiiiiiii lucius <3

-"our entire escape relies on this" i'm just assuming they're trying to escape from the english bc that seems to be the Big Bad of the season??

-not plot related but during the rope swinging training session izzy slaps stede on the ass and makes this face (sir??????):

>he also has his pegleg here so their mentorship may ramp up after izzy is out of commission for hand-to-hand combat. maybe izzy was supposed to have a larger fighting role alongside ed in defeating the english but once he became incapacitated he realized he would need to train someone else up for the job so ed would be sufficiently protected. but it also had to be someone izzy knew would be willing to die for ed to save his life if it came to that, just like izzy would

-"i've been a failure my whole life. it's not so bad once you get used to it" is stede talking to ed here? is that ed's hair in the corner of the frame??

>side note: as mentioned above, stede also has his earring by this point!!

-"you're going through that 'if i was a regular dude' phase" first of all, SPANISH JACKIE AND EDWARD TEACH BEST FRIENDS TRUTHERS RISE UP. second, why would ed be considered a regular dude now?? how did he lose his reputation? did he willingly give it up or was it taken from him? is this permanent or just temporary? or did he fake his own death with the cliff and the rock thing so he could retire and live a more normal life?? the swede doesn't seem scared of him at all in the final clip from the trailer, straight up asking him if he's poor and going "back to basics". of course, that could just be a power trip from being one of Jackie's newest husbands (or at least her waitstaff)

-possibly totally minor/just a continuity error thing, but: ed has a red ring. we saw it in s1 as he picks up the rather fine cashmere and we see it as ed dramatically drapes himself across the ship's helm with his head on his hand. we do not see it in the scene where he's smoking (see above) or the scene where he's talking to the rabbit. now, if you'll allow me a little bit of clownery for a moment, red has been explicitly coded in this show to be a symbol of love/the heart, especially as it pertains to edward like his red silk scarf as a metaphor for his heart in s1. what if. what if he. gave the red ring (his heart) to. SomeOne. because.....................because his heart belongs to st--[GUNSHOTS]

-olu, jim, and archie with garlic around their necks and making a cross with their fingers - clearly they think someone is a vampire on the ship. @sluterastede proposed it could be izzy, especially if he's on the brink of death due to an infection and frenchie managed to spread his superstitions to other people on the ship!

-THIS FUCKIN GUY. WHO ARE YOU??? it seems like he kidnaps stede and his crew and throws a party on the ship and drugs the drinks which is why everyone is kinda tripping/laughing in some parts. but then everyone gets tied down (stede to the mast, wee john's hands get squished, olu and roach's heads get squished, and jim and archie's feet get secured to the ship's railing i think??). also that wide shot is definitely the rando dude hitting some shrill high note at the same moment the revenge crew cry out in pain from all the squishing (except maybe jim and archie - they might just be laughing at the others bc they're badasses and this pain is nothing). also don't know what the guy is looking at when we first see him but im thinking maybe it's a wanted poster of stede and he's looking at the description of the gentleman pirate to confirm it's the dude right in front of him/that he's captured?? also i think roach is wearing flowers from the drug party in his apron when he fires that canon, so maybe he's tripping too and shoots a canon?? i need a prayer circle for the revenge's safety at this time

-stede has a bullet hole???????????????? did ed fucking shoot him in the heart?????????????????????????? he also notably does NOT have the earring in this scene but he does have the sexy stiddies (blue) shirt like we see in the other shot where he DOES have the earring. maybe this weirdo dude pierces stede's ear bc he thinks stede needs to look more piratey?? or stede gets absolutely sloshed (or drugged) and gets his ear pierced idk !!! maybe jim does it bc they're effortlessly cool and has a bunch of ear piercings!!!

-idk if this is a coincidence or not but i'm pretty sure stede in his training scenes with izzy is wearing the clothes he wore in that final shot of s1 as he rows to find the crew on the island (white linen shirt, dark pants, brown belt and boots). so either costume changes are happening later in the season, they're reusing outfits like normal people do, or the training montage happens extremely early on in the season

-so originally with the teaser trailer i thought ed falling in the water was followed by the shot of ed coming out of the water on the beach. i don't know if i fully believe that anymore because ed is NOT wearing his jacket on the cliff (see above), but he IS wearing it as he comes up out of the water, so either it's two different events and ed just spends a lot of time in the water this season or he puts his jacket on before jumping off the cliff

-ed his holding his right side as he slashes that dude on the beach so he definitely got hurt in battle but i hope it's not him getting stabbed bc ur supposed to cleverly take the sword on the left where all the unimportant bits are :(((

-I VERY STRONGLY BELIEVE that the person in the scene where stede turns around and shoots his gun into the air and everyone else on deck suddenly draws their weapons against that person is our boy lucius!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! he's wearing a beret?????????? @sluterastede proposed that lucius got picked up by the english navy after getting thrown overboard and that's why we see him in the english navy garb (which we later see frenchie in too?? i believe an infiltration fuckery is afoot). also the fact that the shot immediately after this one is of Black Pete doing a happy little fist pump which i'm choosing to interpret as a cute little easter egg symbolizing Pete gets reunited with his love. i also also also believe lucius is in the shot of buttons about to zipline from one ship to the other. i missed him :')

-okay i know i said in an earlier post that stede running across the beach was romantic but i changed my mind and i think izzy is just making stede do cardio as part of his training lol. his outfit matches the one he's wearing when swordfighting izzy in that earlier wideshot and i think he even still has the scarf belt and the full beard in both scenes (explained at the end of this post via production stills) so maybe they have an honest to god training montage that takes course over several days and we get an incredible 80s powerballad to play on top of it while stede thinks of ed to motivate him or whatever. david jenkins hire me to help write season 3 i have ideas

-i think jim is behind stede as he breaks into the weirdly religious room we saw in the teaser when stede punches that guy??

-ed is pretty bloodied in the shot of stede leaning over him and saying VERY worriedly "ed????" so my theory is that ed got hurt in battle or he was taken captive by the Chinese warfleet and stede was worried he was grievously injured. however, once ed comes to and realizes who's kneeling over him, he gets pissed and headbutts stede because he's still mad at him for breaking his heart, and maybe his hands are restrained/his body is too weak so he can't push stede away. or maybe they had to begrudgingly work together on some mission and stede fucked it up and ed got hurt so he's mad about that idk!! ALSO HE'S WEARING THE CRAVAT HELLO

-ed in buttons's shirt looking so PEACEFUL what the HELL. obviously it's from the same general time as him being in Spanish Jackie's when she's talking to him about being a regular dude and later when the swede asks him if he's poor addkjfajdfhlkefh i fucking love this show and its writing so much. but ed says "no, i'm just trying something different man >:/" so i wonder if this is ed at the end of s2 or if this is more towards the middle as he's still in the thick of his healing journey. maybe buttons teaches ed about meditation and/or the tai chi he practiced with the Chinese warfleet crew??

-the BTS production still of ed with his "trust no one" tattoo also features what i believe is the treasure chest we see jim carrying off the ship in the shot where fang is smashing two dudes' heads together!

-i also think the BTS production still of stede with the beard is early on in ep 1 because he has a full beard (that im hoping someone on the revenge bullies him into shaving off to the scruff we see in the rest of the promo materials) and ALSO because he's wearing a long red scarf around his waist, which we never see again in any of the other promo material - except, however, around his neck as a makeshift cravat:

>it's the same exact material and everything! my guess is he gets his ass handed to him in a fight (maybe against izzy??) and his scarf belt gets destroyed, so he repurposes the shredded fabric into his necktie

-there's literal gold bars in the background of this production still lmao the kraken crew got BUSY during ed's goth era

>speaking of, the fucking hair dye dripping down izzy's forehead in this production still:

*sad clown noises*

in conclusion:

WE'RE BACK BABEYYYYYYYYYYYYYY

anyway that's my second dissertation on less than 2 minutes of content that turned out to be quite literally 6 pages long :)

#ofmd #our flag means death #blackbonnet #gentlebeard #edward teach #stede bonnet #ofmd s2 #ofmd s2 spoilers #ofmd season 2 #ofmd s2 trailer #izzy hands #the swede #spanish jackie #jim jimenez #oluwande boodhari #wee john feeney #ofmd spoilers #i don't know what i need to be evaluated for but it's SOMETHING and it's PREVALENT #i spent a collective 5 hours making this post what the whole actual fuck

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follows-the-bees · 3 months

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How negative space shows Ed a hopeful future (Part 2.5)

I want to continue on the Ed negative space theme from Part Two.

Particularly this Ed's back center-framed shot that I kept out of the last thread. That is because this shot is the exact opposite meaning of the isolation in Part Two: How center-framed shots of Ed's back show his emotional state.

In part two, I broke down these shots into three different categories: Stede's absence; when Ed switches into character (Jeff the accountant, innkeeper); and when he is alone while shuffling on the Kraken part of him for protection.

In this shot from 1x4, Ed sits on the couch, shot up from mid-back. The focus of the negative space around him doesn't show isolation but instead hope and a future.

This is one of the rare shots where someone else is actually in the shot when Ed's back is center-framed, and it's no coincidence that it's Stede. The camera placement gives the audience Ed's view of Stede's excitement at being able to show off his cabin and connect with Ed.

It is also a contrast to Ed's captains quarters. Stede's are a rich brown, with lots of shelving for books and trinkets, art. (A fireplace and two chandeliers!) It is warm and inviting.

On the other hand, Ed's cabin on his ship is dark: in lighting, mindset, and aesthetics. Full of items like skulls that reflect the persona of Blackbeard, who is shot with mainly his side and back as the main focus. The light shining through in streams hit him like the thought of Stede broaching Ed's dark thoughts and demeanor as Blackbeard.

Back to this shot.

The lighting in the cabin is rich, warm, welcoming.

Light is a running motif of hope in this series, especially between these two. (Stede's colors are gold/yellow, Ed's are red and purple.) Here, we have one of the large chandeliers shining down on them, particularly Stede, and there is a reflected light right above Ed's head. Like a halo or spotlight, reflecting that joy and hope in front of him. The top of his head and shoulders glow.

Stede's outfit contains three facets: the burnt orange pants that blend in with the aesthetic of the cabin, the white shirt that stands out from the background and draws the eye's attention to Stede, and the black cravat, which we know the importance of the rest of the season.

The curtains framing the shot on each side give the allusion of Stede opening his world up to Ed. And Ed looks at this stage, how his life could change for the better, and he is presented with hope and light, with Stede. The openness of the space isn't negative but positive, just like Ed's future.

Part One: The use of greenery in negative space in episode 1x7: This Is Happening

Part Two: How center-framed shots of Ed's back show his emotional state and isolation

#ofmd #our flag means death #stede bonnet #ofmd edward teach #gentlebeard #filmmaking analysis #meta analysis #ofmd meta #ofmd 1x4 #discomfort in a married state #adopt our crew #save ofmd #cinematography

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deepseawarlock · 4 months

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An Organized Crime || Ulysses & Ellyn

The grand ballroom was adorned with opulent chandeliers that cast a glow over the lavish gathering. The air was filled with the enchanting melodies of a live orchestra, and the guests, elegantly dressed in their finest attire, exuded an air of intrigue and sophistication. Ulysses Hex, known to many as the Kraken, stood at the center of attention, his commanding presence drawing the curiosity of those around him.

As the mysterious woman with luscious brown hair and a white dress entered the room, all eyes seemed to gravitate towards her. Every step she took was poised and graceful, as if she were gliding on a current of her own allure. Ulysses was immediately captivated by her presence.

Just who was this woman, and why has he not seen her before?

With a calculated stride, he made his way through the crowd, his piercing gaze fixed on the woman who had caught his attention. His charcoal suit, perfectly tailored to accentuate his broad shoulders and powerful frame, hinted at the wealth and influence he wielded. His eyes, a mesmerizing blend of deep oceanic hues, held a flicker of curiosity and intrigue. Ulysses extended his hand towards her, adorned with an opalescent skull ring.

"Good evening," he spoke with a low, rumbling voice of seductive charisma. "I don't believe we've had the pleasure of meeting before. Ulysses Hex, at your service." His words were smooth and deliberate, each syllable carefully chosen to convey both respect and an underlying sense of power, "are you attending this function alone?"

@lady-llewellyn

#ladyllewellyn #threads; ulysses/ellyn #/i'm vibrating with excitement...!

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quillyfied · 2 years

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I have reached the point in OFMD rewatches where I can’t watch the Kraken awakening in ep10, I just go all squinchy-faced about it until it’s over. This is one part “ew autocannibalism and violence” to one part “as a fellow magpie hoarder it physically hurts me to see Stede’s lovely things get tossed out bc yes they’re just things but also I have a deep sentimental attachment to my things and I wonder if Stede is the same” to two parts “HES SAD HES SO SAD AND HES LASHING OUT BC OF HOW SAD HE IS EDWARD PLS”

That said:

The sort of superhero montage of Ed suiting up as the Kraken, plus the over the top evil cackling he and Fang and a terrified Frenchie all do, is still kind of hilarious. Bc as cruel and brutal as the Kraken is, Ed is still a giant drama queen underneath it all and if he’s gonna be the villain then FINE he’ll be the most villainous villain ever conceived of. He’ll wear his eyeliner all the way across his face and he’ll steal a chandelier crystal for an earring (guesswork idk if that’s what it is, Stede’s room chandeliers didn’t look crystal but idk) and he’ll give deep evil rolling laughs at his captives. He’ll cover up his fingertips so he can conceal don’t feel, he’ll check his reflection in a knife because he’s Evil Again. Look at how Evil he is. He is the Kraken, Fear Him.

#our flag means death #like alright the knife thing is still heavily symbolic #callback to e5 when Ed gets lost in his reflection in a silver plate #bc Ed doesn’t look in true mirrors it seems #only tiny hand mirrors and distorted reflective surfaces #and thinks what he’s seeing is the whole truth about himself #brb got emotional in the tags #might move them to their own post later

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imaginebeingmentallystable · 1 year

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SUMMARY: Lockwood and co take on yet another case. Lucy asks about the extra door in the kitchen. Why is it boarded shut?

NOTES: this is an oc insert but feel free to change the name and pronouns in your head. I'll try to use more gn terms in any other fics I write :)

WARNINGS: mentions of blood, murder, death and ✨ghosts?✨

WORD COUNT: 1303 words

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

The foggy London air seeped under the door of Portland Row. The smell of burnt toast and jam wafted through the house. Profanities could be heard as George Karim, Lucy Carlyle and Anthony Lockwood all rushed to extract the charred remains out of the toaster.

"I told you not to use it. It's been broken since yesterday!" George chided, dropping a piece of toast into the trash.

"Well it wouldn't be broken if someone hadn't tried to toast that silverglass!" Lucy retorted, munching on an apple instead. "How does that even work by the way?!" "That was-"

"Enough. No one uses the toaster, problem solved. We have a-" Lockwood was cut off by the echo of the doorbell. The two waited as Lucy went out to answer it.

"Oh hello!" Muffled voices filtered through to the kitchen. Soon after, the door creaked open to reveal a grinning Lucy.

"We've got a proper client."

Monty Ferguson was a cautious man. He'd spent his 83 years on this earth avoiding anything that may risk his life. So when he began to experience disturbances in his family's summer mansion, he hired agents to solve his problem as soon as possible.

Mr Ferguson set down his teacup with one pale, trembling hand. "I can pay you handsomely, just get rid of it!" he stood, as if emphasising his point. Lockwood leaned forward and eased the old man back into his seat. "That can absolutely be done, sir. Could you possibly tell us who you think it might be?"

As it turns out, Mr Ferguson did have some ideas. Specifically the idea that his dead wife, who was murdered (something he failed to mention to them. George found this in a decades old newspaper) was after him. It seemed Mrs Ferguson was set on revenge for her untimely demise.

"Chains?" "Yep." "Flares?" "Lockwood we're working inside-" "Right. Salt bombs?"

Lockwood & Co worked like a well oiled machine while preparing for the job ahead. They chatted, ate and went over plans once or twice, just in case. Twenty minutes later, they were in a cab and on the way to their destination..

Kraken Hill Estate was a grand place. The iron gates opened out to a large driveway. Gravel crunched beneath the car wheels as Lucy stared in awe at the well manicured gardens spread out on either side of them. "This place is huge! The source could be anywhere."

Lockwood, who was observing from the opposite window, replied with a sigh. "Well we know her body was found in the bedroom. Possible botched robbery, except they didn't steal anything."

George turned in his seat. "Actually, authorities believed that the body was moved. They found patches of her and someone else's blood in these very gardens." he tilted his head towards Lockwood's window. Lucy looked over at her colleagues with wide eyes and a mischievous expression. "Meeting with a secret lover?"

The car stopped before the conversation could continue. The trio lugged the gear out and up the front steps.

Lockwood pushed open the large door. As Lucy crossed the threshold, she scoffed. "Amazing. And they don't even live here half the time!"

Checkered marble floors and spotless stone tables with delicate glass vase on them greeted the agents. The paintings spotted around on the walls were clearly highly priced. The colours vivid, illuminated by the diminishing rays of sunset reflected off of the grand, glittering chandelier.

"Ah agents! Thank you for coming."

A smooth voice distracted them from the dazzling room. A rather professional looking young man made his way down the lavish (also marble) staircase. "His son." Lockwood whispered to the other two before reaching forward to shake his hand. "It's an absolute pleasure. I'm Anthony Lockwood, and these are my associates Lucy Carlyle and George." The man smiled(a chilling sight). It was more of a baring of teeth than an expression of happiness. Lucy shuddered.

"I am Richard. It's getting dark so I'll make this quick.

"The disturbances occur mainly in the upstairs parlour. Odd noises, drops in temperature and such. My father might have mentioned that he felt like he was being followed or hunted." Richard gestured back the way he came. "The stairs are that way. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a rather important dinner to get to." He exchanged a nod with George and Lockwood, then brushed hurriedly past them.

Georges eyes followed him out.

"Am I the only one who thought he was pretty suspicious?"

"He said she was following him, so it has a purpose. Probably a Type Two. Lucy?" "Nothing yet." "Temperature is 13 degrees."

The team advanced further through the house. Just as they were about to turn back, Lucy stopped abruptly, causing George to drop his torch. The thermometer beeped rapidly.

"Jesus Lucy! A little warning-" George stood back up to see not one, but two ghosts hovering a few metres ahead. "... next time." He finished weakly. There was a low pulse, then silence for a moment. Lucy's eyes snapped open. When she spoke, her voice shook.

"Run."

Footsteps thundered across the wooden floors as the ghostly pair screeched after them.

"What did you hear?!" Lockwood asked, lobbing a salt bomb at the woman, catching her in the shoulder. "He killed her! Her lover! She wanted to come clean to her husband so he killed her!" Lucy slammed the door behind them, temporarily stalling the ghosts.

George frowned. "But then who killed-" "Her son. He was in the garden that day, playing with his little brother." Lockwood ran a hand through his hair and cursed. He'd known the brothers had found the blood and the body. There was even a ball, lying in the bush behind the blood splatter. He'd been too engrossed in reading the article to notice.

Lucy was first to know that something was different. "I think we can go outside now." She whispered. George pushed open the door slowly, checking the hallway before letting them through.

Lucy closed her eyes again, listening intently. Lockwood kept one hand on his rapier. He could see the glow of plasm down the hall.

"Luce?" "Yeah I'm getting there. Down that way and to the left. I can hear laughter." She gestured opposite the ghostly forms.

George stepped forward, his rapier drawn. "Go. I'll fend them off." Before Lockwood could protest, Lucy grabbed his arm and dragged him away.

"I think it's a gift. Something her husband gave her." "Anniversary present?"

Lucy shrugged, went into the last room and began rummaging through the cabinet. Papers, ink, even a spoon, but nothing that looked like a anniversary gift.

A shout from Lockwood drew her attention to the closet. He was holding up a shiny set of pearls.

"Yes that's it!"

Lucy rushed to secure the pearls in a silverglass box. Lockwood grinned.

"One down, one to go."

Lucy was washing the dishes that evening when she noticed the door.

It was rather unremarkable, which was probably why it had gone unnoticed for so long. Lucy had never seen Lockwood or George use it and when she tried to open it, it was boarded shut.

Huh.

"Lockwood?" She called up the stairs. George was coming down them, having finished patching himself up after the Kraken Hill case. He stopped by the bottom. "What're you yelling for?"

Lucy ignored his annoyed tone.

"The door in the kitchen, the one that's boarded shut. What is it?" George opened his mouth to answer.

"It leads next door."

Lockwood emerged from the library holding a empty teacup in his hand. Lucy turned around, confused.

"Why do we have a door that leads next door?!"

Lockwood and George exchanged a look. "Well?" Lucy asked expectantly.

Why were they making those faces?

Lockwood sighed.

"An old friend used to live there. An agent. Her name was Winifred Mattes."

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emmaelix · 2 years

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I Needed Love: The Perfect Storm Chapter Two Rewrite

I play Time Princess. Sue me. I’m writing fanfic for a video game. Won’t be the first, certainly not the last. This is basically a rewrite of chapter two of The Perfect Storm. Most definitely on the Charles Vane route, if you haven’t read TPS or finished the second chapter I do not recommend this as it is spoilers. And yes, I know that Vane's nickname (if anyone ever even had the guts to give him one) would most likely not be Charlie. I do not care. Enjoy!

Also, I wrote Admiral Hawke as a misogynistic asshole from my own personal experience. The things he says about Cordelia (and women in general) in this rewrite are all from my own experiences as a woman.

Full Title: The Perfect Storm Chapter Two Re-write: Cordelia Delamare X Charles "Charlie" Vane

Y/n: Your Name. Y/H/C: Your Hair Color. Y/E/C: Your Eye Color. Y/S/C: Your Skin Color

"Captain Delamare! How are you this fine morning?"

"Physically, Governor Hamilton, I am fit as a well-rested cat, waiting to pounce. Mentally I am restless. Restless beyond belief, so much so it's like an itch to my soul. I feel this- this desire to be back at sea!"

------------

"Vane, I'm a pirate captain. I've defeated a Kraken, outwitted mermaids, and ended Blackbeard's blockade on Charlestown. I certainly don't need your coat," but even as I say it I snuggle into the warm leather, enjoying Vane's cologne around me.

Vane smirks, and says in his Captain Commando voice, "Just take the damn jacket, Cordelia."

-----------

"I'm a monster."

"No!" I exclaim, a little louder than intended. "Just because your father is an asshat with little to no personality other than a large ego and superiority complex, doesn't mean you are. You are someone who has layers. Would it be wrong to call me a condescending frilly old woman just because my mother was?"

Vane scoffs. "Your mother isn't an abandoning loser who tried to push her son off a boat."

"No, maybe not. But she's still a terrible person. You're not. Our parents don't shape who we are as people. You aren't your father. You're a hot, amazing pirate who happens to be rivals with the most beautiful female pirate captain in all the Caribbean."

----------

I want you, Charles Vane. All of you-

My thoughts and daydreams are interrupted by a yell of pain. I've run into the confrontation of father and son, would be killer and would be killed, Hawke and Vane.

"Charles... Vane." Admiral Hawke spits out through a mouthful of blood. The wicked smile on his face and the red hair framing his face reminds me of Vane but in all the wrong and terrifying ways.

Vane says nothing and stands like a statue of doom and dread. His eyes are as black as hell, and his face shows nothing but hatred and disgust. He steps to the side, crunching on an already shattered chandelier.

Hawke echoes his movements. They are like predators, constantly watching each other for any sign of attack. I feel the pistol at my side, and I'm tempted to try and sharpshoot. But as I watch the face off I realize that wouldn't be a good idea.

As if my body has nothing more interesting to do my corset begins to rub against my shirt. "Damn thing," I mutter as I try to move it without too much noise. I hear Nameless call into the mansion, reminding me of both Molly's and of Hamilton's losses.

I peek back out from under the rubble. They look similar, but they represent opposite worlds. Distorted, mirror images of each other, but father and son indeed.

This feels like a showdown like you'd read about in Western books. "Good to see you," Admiral Hawke says, grinning wolfishly. "Son."

Vane is becoming his persona. Dark, and as ruthless as hell. A dark sign that death is coming. But what does Hawke do? He laughs in death's face.

"What is this? Do you want attention? You want to impress the pirate captain you're so smitten with? Or do you want a pat on the back from your old man? To show me how big and strong you are? Or maybe to show your captain?"

Hawke stops, as though admiring prey before he devours it. "I see myself in you, Charles. We are one and the same. Strong, ambitious, ruthless. Monsters," he steps forward as if in conciliation, but quick as a snake, he lunges to stab Vane in the heart.

Vane slides to the side, blocking underneath. If I'd blinked I would've missed the pivotal life or death moment. Vane laughs. "The same? I know I am a monster. I am the worst of the worst, a cold-blooded-killer pirate with an eye for all that sparkles crimson. But I am safe in the knowledge that in all my monstrosity, I am nothing like you."

"So you want to kill me, then?" Hawke asks, smiling as though he'd known all along. "Well, this world isn't big enough for the both of us. And I will not be defeated, so you will be."

Hawke lunges, and my heart is beating rapidly in my throat. But as I watch the fight I realize something. Vane isn't fighting to kill. It's taking all his strength, but he's only defending. They are so evenly matched this could go on for hours.

I can see exertion in both men's faces, but Hawke still carries his grin. "It was a nice trick today: planting your crew at the hanging, then rioting and storming port. I'm disappointed, though, that it was all to save your little girlfriend. Do you want some advice? Love makes you soft. Women are weak and frail creatures, fit for kitchens, not killing. If you try to protect them you'll only get hurt."

"Captain Cordelia Delamare is anything but weak. She is confident, beautiful, smart, and the bravest not only woman - but the bravest person I've met. She is a double agent, she knows the secrets of both sides. She is dangerous to any and all opponents."

Hawke swings his sword heavily. If it landed it could've cleaved Vane in half. The very thought makes me nauseous. But Vane ducks at the last second and only his arm is sliced. He shouts in pain, and I see red as bright as his hair blossoming along his white shirt. His sword arm. If he wasn't in danger before, he is now.

Vane's voice is deadly calm. "To you, my mother was a tool, and I was an inconvenience. She was so desperate for your affection, and without you to blame for all her misfortunes, do you know who shouldered her bitterness? Her rage and fury? Me, you bastard, me."

Hawke just laughs at his son. He's fingering his blade, and the sight makes me nervous. As I'm sitting here helpless I realize how painful it would be to lose Vane after everything we've gone through. From the library to the beach, to the dark moonlit night, everything would be - pardon the pun - in vane if Vane wasn't there with me.

"I was absent, yes. But I extended an olive branch of peace? Why did you reject my most generous offer? The most decent thing I ever did or will do for you?"

If Vane could reach far enough, I'm sure one hand would wrap around his father's neck, and squeeze. Watching this version of Vane is like re-living my old memories. It's someone I know, vaguely, but I don't feel any attachment to. I lo- I do. I love Vane. But this terrifying, thunder-crashing, hell-burning version of him makes my skin crawl.

"Don't pretend. It was a trap to kill me or put me in your debt, not a gift. I don't want anything to do with you," and Vane attacks. But the Admiral matches each strike with precision and force. It's like a tidal wave trying to destroy a mountain. Neither will budge, both impossibly strong.

I can't bear to listen to any more of this conversation, so I look for something else to do. I begin fiddling in the rocks, looking for weapons and hearing bits and pieces of the conversation.

"...Thank me... pathetic mother, I really did you a favor..."

I hear a yell and whip back around quick as lightning to see Vane's sword in Admiral Hawke's leg. "Kill me, son. Punish me! Go on... your blade drips with my blood, what's a bit more? Don't you want to plunge it into my chest?"

It's sickening, to hear this. Listening to Hawke's quick changes to the way he speaks depends on whether he's in control or not. "No, I won't. I won't begin to list the incorrect reasons why I won't. The reason I will tell you, however, is that I'm free. Free from you, my mother, the Navy, and those hell-bound bastards who keep trying to unsuccessfully take my ship and life."

I'm proud of Vane. "Thirteen years I wasted seeking your approval. I am your blood, but as a wise and beautiful female pirate captain once told me, 'Our parents don't shape who we are as people. Just because your father is an asshat with little to no personality other than a large ego and superiority complex, doesn't mean you are.'"

Vane pauses. "I live by the words of the woman I adore, respect, admire, and love. She and her crew have faced all odds and still came out on top. And she reminded me that our similarities end with red hair. You have no power over me."

Hawke looks disgusted. "You live by the words of a woman?"

"I am free. A man, not a child, free to make my own destiny. And by Davy Jones, I'm going to seize that chance. I do not allow you, or thoughts of you, to impact my life. I am free from you, so I choose to leave you."

Hawke rolls his eyes. "Don't pretend you're noble. You're as twisted as I am. You kill all the time, you're a pirate! Kill me! That's what you've wanted to do since you were thirteen, wasn't it? Take me out of the misery of knowing my son has become a woman worshipping door-mat! A pirate, too."

"Living is your punishment," Vane says, looking at Hawke the way he would someone who tried to pickpocket him. "You are nothing. No one."

"Then kill me and take my riches. You'll have everything you've ever wanted!"

I see Vane stagger, and I remind myself not to blow my cover. Vane sneers. He looks his father in the eyes, and says, "I have everything I've ever wanted."

Vane turns his back on his whimpering mess of a father and slowly walks out. As I see him limping I finally call out to him. His face changes instantly upon seeing me. "Cordelia! How long have you been there? Are you safe?"

As I rush over to him I feel the intense want to wrap my arms around him and kiss him like there's no tomorrow. But, ironically, that will have to wait until tomorrow. "I'm fine. But, Vane, what about you?"

Vane smiles. "I am free."

I smile back, pulling his head down slightly so I can kiss him. When we pull apart Vane gently brushes a strand of hair from my cheek. "De Vere is gone. And Hamilton... I did all I could, Read's with him now. But he might not make it."

I can see Vane recoil in horror, before quickly pulling me into a hug. He shakes his head. "Hamilton is a good man. I hope he does survive, Port Royal wouldn't be the same without him."

TWO MONTHS LATER

"Heartbreakers, with me! Our target is within sight! Unfurl the sails, full speed ahead! I want them quaking in their boots at the sight of us!"

Bang and Burns look particularly mischievous as Moondog begins to play her wild melody. Our stabbed heart flies proudly in the wind. It still gives me a rush of adrenaline to see it. And then I see it. The Ranger.

We approach Vane's ship at full speed. And as we go I see the tall red-headed man I'm looking for. Seeing him, in his pure pirate king form, sends the butterflies in my stomach fluttering. "Grapplers, prepare to board! No mercy, we are the Heartbreakers!"

"Captain Heartbreaker. You charge at me, threaten me, and pirate me? How romantic."

It feels like my jaw has just dropped to The Heartbreaker's hold. "What?!"

"You're recreating the moment we first met. So sentimental, doing this for our one-year anniversary."

I purse my lips, trying to stop myself from laughing. "I should call you Captain Adorable."

I hear Bang and Burns begin to snicker behind me. "No, this is a robbery!"

"Of my heart, yes, I see that. Well, come on. My cabin is where I keep my treasure."

Read, and most of the rest of my crew, are now laughing while Keats lightly scolds them. I sigh and swing over to the Ranger. I enter Vane's cabin. Vane is leaning against his captain's table, arms crossed. The expression on his face is one I imagine a wolf would have if a lamb walked into his lair.

I suddenly feel an urge to loiter at the entrance to Vane's cabin. But Vane beckons me closer, and I come all the way inside his cabin. "You've come to pillage, no? I believe resistance, at this point, would be considered futile. So what is it you desire most, oh Dreaded Captain Cannonball?"

"Well," I begin, my courage starting to grow, "I've come to the conclusion I'm hopelessly attracted to ruthless, ambitious, fiendish, and devastatingly handsome pirates."

Vane smiles. "Seems serious," Vane reaches forward for my waist. "Go check the top drawer of the desk. I have... a gift for you."

Suddenly suspicious, I eye Vane up and down as I walk slowly to his desk. I carefully slide open the drawer, ready to jump back if necessary. Until I gasp upon seeing the contents. I see a map. "This is amazing!"

"It's our map. If, of course, you want it."

I run to where he's standing and wrap my arms around him, hugging him tightly as he strokes my back, laughing softly. I guess that answered his question. Vane pulls back from the hug to kiss me instead, on the lips.

It's passionate, and the feelings rush over me like the sea we both love. When we pause for breath he strokes my cheekbone down to my jaw in a repetitive, strangely attractive way. His husky voice breaks the silence, "Happy one-year anniversary, Captain Cannonball. I hope my cabin survives this encounter."

Wow, two posts in one night. I must be crazy.

Well, that took longer than expected. Oh well, on to more things, I guess.

#dutp the perfect storm #dress up time princess #Charles Vane x Cordelia Delamare #the perfect storm re-write

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lookinglass-fic · 2 years

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The Shadow of My Wound

Ed/Stede - General Audiences - Fix-it - Canon divergence - Emotional hurt/comfort - Feelings - Domesticity Summary: Stede gazed off into the Eastern sky, imagining what the sunrise would look like from the South China Sea. “I’ve ruined everything,” he said, eventually. “Chauncey was right. I destroy everything I touch. You thought you were the monster,” he added, as Ed came to sit next to him, “but it was me all along. Maybe I’m the kraken.” or A fix-it for the ending of episode 9, when it all started to go to hell.

Remember Me to One Who Lives There (A Continuation of The Shadow of My Wound)

Ed/Stede - General Audiences - Fix-it - Canon divergence - Feelings - Domesticity - Love confession Summary: “All my life, I’d been told that I was pathetic, that I was a little spoiled rich boy, and a coward, and I would never be anything else. And I think… a part of me always wanted to prove otherwise. That I could be anything. I mean,” S said, looking around at their beautiful home; the lavish golden adornments, the chandeliers, the soft, velvet cushions. “I suppose I still am, at the end of the day. But I’ve come to learn that… this was never what made me truly happy. And I think, deep down I knew that I was what was causing you to be unhappy, too.” or Stede sets things right with Mary. The right way. With Ed by his side.

When Love Became an Act of Defiance

Ed/Stede - General Audiences - Canon divergence - Feelings - Letter writing - Angst - Fluff - Romantic gestures - Language of flowers Summary: 'You know his name, but what you don’t know is that he is gentle and kind, and his eyes hold oceans of feeling. His skin is written in stories of tattoos and scars and sun-kissed spots. He plays the harpsichord and knows how to dance a jig, and he loves telling stories. He is, truly, one of the best people I’ve ever known. And I just miss him so terribly.' or In this post-canon world, where geography is made up and postal codes don't matter, Stede becomes pen pals with Mary while he looks for Edward.

We Can Stay 'Til Break of Day

Ed/Stede - General Audiences - Missing scene - Canon compliant - Romantic fluff - Dancing - Talking it through (as a crew) Summary: Ed’s boots scuffed against the deck as he moved. He picked up the simple rhythm easily. “There we are,” Stede said. “That’s the hard part. The rest, you already know.” Ed’s feet kept up their one-two-three step. “That right?” “Mm,” Stede agreed. “Like you said, it’s all about anticipating your partner’s movements. Matching your body to theirs.” Ed gave a quiet huff of a laugh that Stede seemed not to hear. “May I?” Stede asked. He had stopped moving and turned to face Edward, holding out a hand. Ed could only shrug. or Shouldn't Stede teach Ed how to dance? I mean, fair's fair. Based on this beautiful art by @ylissebian.

I've Never Felt So At Home (Whānau Part I)

Ed/Stede - General Audiences - Alternate universe (modern setting) - Gay bar - Flower shop - Language of flowers - Misunderstandings - Fluff and humor - Coming out - Self-discovery Summary: “Uh oh, there goes your boyfriend,” Lucius called. He nodded toward the front windows. Stede turned from the wall he was papering in time to see a handsome, long haired man striding out into the parking lot. Today he was wearing a short black shirt, and his many tattoos were on full display. The man mounted a motorcycle and kicked it on with a low grumble that could be heard even inside the building. “Think you’ll ever just say hello to him?” Lucius asked. “Maybe casually park your car by his bike, happen to be walking in as he’s leaving work, say, ‘oh hello, very cool gentleman in your leather outfit, my name’s Stede, I enjoy staring at your arse through the windows every day—” “Oh, leave him alone,” Oluwande interrupted. “Stede’ll talk to him when he’s ready. Or he won’t.” or In which Stede comes out in his forties and jumps head first into the queer community, even if he's still a little too intimidated to talk to the handsome guy who runs the tattoo shop a few doors down. Based on this post by notebooks-and-laptops.

Besotted (Whānau Part II)

Ed/Stede - General Audiences - Alternate universe (modern setting) - Bar/Pub - Flower shop - Language of flowers - Fluff and humor - Getting to know each other - Domestic fluff - Fossil hunting as flirtation - Sappy romantic idiots - Florida Summary: Stede [Friday, 6:49 pm]: There seems to be a bouquet of flowers on my doorstep! Ed [Friday, 7:12 pm]: Wonder how those got there. Stede [Friday, 7:13 pm]: What are these gorgeous red and black ones here? Stede [Friday, 7:13 pm]: (Image) Ed [Friday, 7:14 pm]: Those are anemones. Some of my favorites. Don’t get to use em in bouquets very often. Too dark for most people Stede [Friday, 7:15 pm]: Well they’re just lovely. What do anemones mean? Ed [Friday, 7:15 pm]: Anticipation ;) or After the events of "I've Never Felt So at Home," Ed and Stede go on their first date, text each other a lot, and go about things in entirely their own way.

#ofmd fanfiction #ofmd fanfic #fanfic #my fic #fic list #fic recs #omfd #our flag means death #blackbonnet #gentlebeard #blackstede #blackbeard #ed x stede #omfd stede #stede bonnet #our flag means love #fluffy fic #angst

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thisiswhyimbroke · 2 years

Photo

The Kraken Octopus chandelier via https://ift.tt/qw7EXCp

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apolonisaphrodisia · 3 years

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RARE - Stunning Octopus Tentacle chandelier

Available here : ETSY

#Steampunk #Steam punk #Octopus chandelier #Rare #Tentacles #Octopus #Kraken #Cthulhu #Steampunk chandelier #Handmade #craft #crafts

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vorpal-chandelier · 6 years

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Vorpal Chandelier second design.

As you guys can see I took some of the comments on the last one into consideration. This time around I went with the closer more enclosed cage as suggested by Flumppod, deciding to leave the “claw machine” style hand for the other end of the chain, as he said it does give him a morningstar esque look, and reminds me of something like Voldo from the “Soul Calibur” Franchise or a dark demonic figure. I decided to give him more main arms, which originally was part of the plan anyway, choosing to go with eight as an arachnophobe myself i feel like its a good number not only for the creep factor, but it stops me from being overwhelmed by having too many arms, but still gives more than an insect might have, making him somewhat octopus-like. I kept the blades on the arms as well as the “finger blades”, but turned the candle into spouts like you’d see on a flamethrower or blowtorch. I figured it was more suitable since the Vorpal Chandelier is really more of a guardian or “killbot” than an actual fixture or decorative peace. Ultimately, I also decided to keep the strange glow pattern in the orb as well. Something about it reminds me of a trapped spirit or a mystical crystal ball and i think it fits quite well. In some lore, at least in the tabletop games, some constructs (perhaps exclusively golems, I’m unsure) are actually animate because of elemental spirits or elementals being caged inside of the golem’s body during the creation process, and although the Vorpal Chandelier isn’t really a golem, I like the idea that a mad wizard may have trapped some type of malevolent being inside it, or that whatever is whisping around in there is what fuels the candles lights. I also decided that rather than having the chain be a way of restraining the Chandelier, that the chain was actually a 9th appendage, and that the claw hand on that appendage was locked to some sort of fixture by a special type of shackles, a way to keep the chandelier from escaping or leaving its post. I decided to go with the colorful background for the same reason he originally had the misshaped letters for eyes, it gives him a crazy cartoony look, especially with his “tentacles” flailing about in a frenzy, some of which are blasting fire as if to illustrate my point that it’s one crazy thing.

#Vorpal #VorpalChandelier #Chandelier #fantasy #monster #d&d #d&d stuff #kraken #d&d shenanigans #paizo pathfinder #paizo publishing #Avatar #walpurgisnacht #1080p #Background

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 3 years

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Realignment

Prompt: I love when Remus is a lot smarter than he lets on, so I’d love a prompt where Logan is overworking himself and not taking care of himself and one tic of the clock away from either passing out or having a full on mental breakdown (not the type you can recover from in a day). Remus notices the little signs Logan shows, and hears the intrusive thoughts Logan has. Remus really becomes concerned when Logan’s intrusive thoughts start to involve taking breaks, going to eat properly rather than inhaling granola bars, and even sleeping. Remus storms in and is like “Logan tf????” Then gets hella soft once he realizes the state Logan is in

Thank you for the prompts, babe! I liked this one the best so I picked it.

GUYS PLEASE VIEW THIS AS A C H E C K P O I N T if you've been scrolling for a while (and you probably have) pause here! drink water! get food! walk around the room for a little bit! stretch! do something please! you are very important to me and I care about you very deeply!

Read on Ao3

Warnings: discussions of self-harm, nothing explicit, some self-destructive tendencies and behaviors.

Pairings: focus on intrulogical, background LAMP, DLAMP, DLAMPR, can be platonic or romantic i don’t care

Word Count: 2410

Realignment: to align again.

Realignment: to reorganize or make new groupings of.

* * *

Remus hears a lot of weird shit.

The problem arises when the shit he starts to hear isn't weird at all.

Remus hears a lot of weird shit.

The more appropriate definition would be ‘fucked up like you wouldn’t fucking believe,’ but one of us has a problem with particularly strong language and shit doesn’t have to be censored in a lot of media anymore. Which is so convenient! For some of us!

It’s fucking great.

Anyway. Point being. Fucked up shit.

Intrusive thoughts literally fall under his purview. It’s the fun stuff! The stuff you don’t wanna think about that makes your skin crawl and your eyes pop open at the witching hour and stay awake until the sun rises. That’s Remus’s job.

And it’s like the whole Mindscape is whack-a-mole that he gets to play with! Buttons here and there, squeeze this part and watch the eyes bug out of this part, bap this one on the head, see which one pokes up next. Who’s gonna have nightmares tonight? Who is having a nightmare tonight?

It’s fun.

Point. Right. Right.

It’s normally pretty easy to tell whose intrusive thoughts are whose. They taste different. Patton’s taste like sugar so sweet it’ll fill your mouth with cavities. Virgil’s taste like spiders, crawling around his mouth. Janus’s taste like salt. So much fucking salt. Dry as hell.

Roman’s taste like blood. Problem is, Remus’s mouth normally tastes like blood, so…

Yeah, they gotta work that out.

Logan’s taste like ink. Which is why it took him so long to figure out that Logan was having them. Not just because the nerdy wolverine was so convinced he couldn’t have them—rationalizing them as philosophy principles, come on—but because Remus isn’t exactly an expert on pens. Writing like normal people. Ugh.

Normal people.

What a lie, Janny probably gets a big kick out of those.

No one is normal and normal is boring.

Logan. Right.

Okay, so here’s the thing.

Logan’s thoughts aren’t really…standard? They are to some extent, you don’t really get a whole lot of variety from him—even when Remus has been so helpful in making his room safe for him to be in during bad days, there’s such a lack of imagination there that he wasn’t sure exactly how to feel—but it’s the recent ones that’ve been getting…weird.

Remus chews thoughtfully on the kraken tentacle. He swings up to the chandelier and hangs by his ankles, letting the blood run to his head. Makes it easier to think sometimes.

It hasn’t been very long since they found out…well, since they found out.

Remus frowns. Why is he censoring himself? It’s not like he can’t fucking say self-harm, it’s not like he can’t describe what it was, it’s not like he can’t close his eyes and see it happening again.

Then his mind jumps helpfully to the shocked, panicked look on Logan’s face and the soft, furious resignation on Roman’s, and his jaw snaps shut.

Oh.

Right.

He cares. So he has to be gentle with them.

He growls, swinging himself up to perch on the chandelier proper. He turns the kraken tentacle over and chews on the rubbery side.

The others are delicate. Not that they’re more breakable than any other metaphysical humanoid, but their minds are fragile when it comes to Remus’s side of things. Could they handle the full spectrum of his side of thoughts and shit? Probably, they’re stronger than they give themselves credit for. Should they have to? Hell to the fuck no. But it means that Remus can’t just throw them in the deep end and see if the kraken spits them out whole or in chunks. Could they survive? Absolutely. Would they still be…them? Doubtful.

Remus lets one of his legs go, hanging by one knee as he tips over.

Plus they’re always a little more fragile when it comes to these thoughts anyway. Poking and prodding too much would hurt. Like, the bad kind of hurt.

They’re not supposed to get hurt. Not like that.

So. Gentle it is then.

Right. The others. He has a point, he’s just gotta get there.

Roman…fuck he’s missed his brother. They got—they got so much shit to still work out but they’re gonna do it together and fuck he loves his brother so goddamn much. Roman knows that, he knows that, and he’s always there to pull Remus out of his head when he needs it, hit him with a pillow, or tackle him onto something and hold him tight. He’s—his thoughts taste like blood and Remus hasn’t bitten anything since so that he’ll never miss it again.

But with Logan...

Logan is…odd. It hasn’t been long since they first found out—or rather, they confronted him about it, and Remus hasn’t tasted ink without it disappearing very quickly or knocking on someone’s door to please go get your fucking nerd, please. But the ink has only written the usual suspects, whispering the theorems in dark corners, muttering about the incompleteness of a set, the need for Logic, not Logan, and how to jump through the little loophole again.

It’s not exactly hard for the others to tell.

Lolo hasn’t been looking great. Sure, he’s all pressed and dressed, glasses perfectly in place, tie done up just so, walking around like everything’s just totally and completely fine, but it’s in his face. Object impermanence aside, normally when Remus bugs him, he reacts in some way.

Sass is an emotional response and you won’t convince him otherwise.

Whether it be a wry comment, effortlessly fixing whatever Remus has done to him this time, or even just a look, Lolo does something.

Not anymore.

Now he’ll just kind of…sigh and move on? He’ll fix whatever it is only if it’s directly interfering with what he’s trying to do, or when Patton or Virgil come round the corner and freak the fuck out because you’re bleeding! Then he’ll fix it.

Remus wouldn’t say he’s bored, but he’s worried.

Mainly because the intrusive thoughts…aren’t what he’d consider intrusive anymore.

Take a shower.

Eat something that isn’t just a granola bar.

Go to sleep.

Ask someone for help.

See?

If those are Lolo’s intrusive thoughts, then what the fuck is normally going on in his head?

Remus waits. Waits. Keeps waiting.

The instant his mouth tastes like ink again, with a question of whether or not Logan should take a break, he sinks straight into his shower. He washes his hair thoroughly, gets every single bit of grime off him he can, and puts on the softest pajamas he has—thank you, Roman—and drops himself outside of Logan’s door.

He strains, mouth still full of ink, to hear anything other than the soft click, click, click of Logan’s keyboard.

He can’t.

Fuck.

He knocks.

“One moment, please.”

Indeed, a few seconds later, the door opens to reveal Logan, looking as annoyingly pristine as he always does, surprised to see him.

“Remus? Did you need something? Why…” he trails off as he takes in what Remus is wearing. “What’s wrong?”

“Can I come in?”

“Of—of course,” Logan stammers, moving aside to let him in, “are you alright?”

“Should be asking you that, Lolo.”

“Remus, you’ve just knocked, first of all, on my door and asked to come inside.” Logan adjusts his glasses as he sits at his desk. “This is extremely out of character for you.”

“Uh-huh.” Remus flops onto the bed. “You know what else is out of character?”

“Not wearing your costume?”

“Not hearing intrusive thoughts.”

Logan’s eyes widen. “Has—is there something wrong? Are you not hearing any? Do I need to get Roman?”

Remus frowns. “Why’s it so easy for you to do that?”

“Do what?”

“Care. Try and take care of me.”

Logan blinks. “Because you deserve to be taken care of, Remus. Your needs are important.”

Remus idly toys with a loose thread on one sleeve. “Why?”

“Why? Why are you important?” Remus nods. “Because you’re—you’re an important part of Thomas, you’re important to us, and we care about you.”

“So it’s easy for you to care for me because…you do?”

“As simple as that sounds,” Logan says with all the softness that should be directed at himself, “yes.”

Remus nods. “I’m not having problems with hearing intrusive thoughts.”

“You’re—you’re not?” Logan sighs, relaxing a little back into his chair. “Then why did you say you were?”

“Because the thoughts that I am hearing aren’t really what I’d consider intrusive.”

Logan frowns. “Like what?”

Glad you fucking asked.

“‘Take a shower,’” Remus says, his eyes fixed firmly on Logan’s face, “'eat something,’ ‘take a break,’ ‘go to sleep.’”

He watches Logan’s face tense.

“Sound familiar, Lolo?”

“You—I—my apologies,” Logan manages after a moment, adjusting his tie, “I did not mean to be an inconvenience. You are correct, those are not intrusive thoughts, I’m not sure why you’re hearing them.”

He turns to his desk and begins to fish around for a notebook.

“That is quite intriguing, I wonder what the possibilities for hearing other types of thoughts are, considering—“

“Lolo.”

Logan pauses, turning back. “Yes?”

Remus fixes him with a look, getting up and walking toward him. “They are intrusive thoughts, Logan. The issue is that your intrusive thoughts are about you taking care of yourself.”

Logan freezes.

“W-well, I’m sure that it’s nothing to be concerned about.”

“So either you can admit that was a lie or Janny’s about to get summoned.”

“Remus,” Logan sighs, “it’s fine. As you said, these aren’t what are traditionally considered intrusive thoughts, it’s nothing to be concerned about.”

“No, Lolo, it is,” Remus argues, “because it means that the thought of you taking care of yourself is so foreign, so fucking out of the ordinary that not only does it happen to cross your mind—“ he takes Logan’s chair and spins it around— “but you try to force it out.”

Gotcha.

Logan looks anywhere other than Remus’s face and tries to stand. Only to wobble and crash back down.

“Easy,” Remus says quietly, resting a hand on his shoulder, “you haven’t eaten in a while.”

“But I have work.”

“But you need food.”

“Remus—“

“Logan.”

At Logan’s honest-to-fuck pout, he sighs, dragging the poor nerd up and out the chair and sitting him on the bed.

“Why do you think you don’t deserve to be taken care of?”

“I didn’t say that—hey!” Logan blinks up at him, scandalized and covering his stomach. “Why did you poke me?”

“’S what I do when Janny won’t tell me the truth.”

“I wasn’t—okay, okay!” Logan covers his stomach protectively as Remus readies another poke. “I just…I’ve already asked for help for this before. I shouldn’t have to again.”

Remus sighs and lightly flicks the side of his head.

“Hey!”

“Virgil tries that too.” He stares hard at Logan. “Come on, Lolo, you can do better.”

“It’s not your jobs to take care of me.”

For fuck’s sake…

Remus reaches out and tugs gently on Logan’s tie.

“Remus, what—“

“You taking more books outta Patton’s library now?” Remus tilts his head. “You don’t have to beat around the bush, Lolo, just be honest.”

“I am being honest!”

“You’re not lying, but you’re not being honest.” At the poor nerd’s confusion, he sighs and fixes his glasses on that cute nose. “Just talk to me, Lolo.”

“I—“ Logan sighs and oh fuck why does he look so tired?

Well, because he hasn’t been sleeping.

Or eating.

Or taking care of himself.

Unbidden, part of his conversation with Roman flashes into his head.

“Self-harm can be self-denial too.”

“Lolo?”

“It’s bad enough that I’ve made you all worry about me,” Logan says finally, “I would hate to be a burden.”

Oh, Lolo. “You and Roman, huh?”

Logan looks up warily. “What do you do with Roman?”

“You know what I do.”

Logan sighs. “May at least take my glasses off first?”

“You might wanna change too, I’m not letting you up for a while.”

Logan stretches to place his glasses on the nightstand and poofs himself into a t-shirt and boxers. He sighs and opens his arms.

Remus takes two running steps and tackles the poor nerd onto his bed.

“Ah!”

“Am I hurting you?”

“No, no, just—just a little startled.”

“Mm.” Remus snuggles closer into Logan, his arms wrapped tightly around him. “So. Wanna try one more time?”

Logan sighs, deflating them both to the bed. His head lolls to his left, eyes on his open computer screen. Remus follows it, barely suppressing a growl as he stretches his arm out to save whatever’s on screen and shut it.

“I know what I’m supposed to be doing,” Logan whispers, “I understand the process, I am aware that healing is not a linear concept, I know it’s going to take time, I—I understand.”

Remus looks down, giving him an encouraging squeeze. “But?”

“It’s hard,” comes the soft confession.

Oh, Lolo.

“I know,” he murmurs, leaning down to hug him properly, “I know, Lolo, I know it’s hard. But you can’t try and do it all yourself, you’ve gotta remember that we’re here for you, we care about you.”

“But why?”

Remus smiles and cuddles him tighter. “You said it yourself, Lolo. We care because we do.”

“O-oh.” He feels Logan’s throat work as he swallows. “Thank you, Remus.”

“Of course, Lolo. I’m guessing that sinking us to the living room so everyone else can spoil you is a bad idea, right?”

“Yes.” Finally, finally, he feels Logan shyly tighten his grip on him. “Can we just…stay like this?”

“Do I have your permission to hold you hostage until you fall asleep?”

“Yes.”

“Then go to sleep, Lolo,” Remus murmurs, “I’m not going anywhere.”

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#dragonbabbles #fic #sanders sides #logan sanders #remus sanders #sympathetic remus #janus sanders #deceit sanders #sympathetic deceit #roman sanders #logan angst #virgil sanders #patton sanders #self harm #tw self harm #tw: self harm

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averykedavra · 3 years

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“I’m going to die. I’m going to die with an absolute idiot!” logince? no pressure if you can't but if you can i look forward to reading it!

(Em, I know I’m answering this, but you better not read this ‘cause you said you’d be offline. You’re forbidden. Go do work now. And yes, this is really long, and yes I should have spread my work out to other prompts, but here I am.)

Words: 7922

Despite everything, this wasn’t even the worst errand that Janus had sent Logan on.

That would be the harpy feathers, which had taken three weeks and three cut fingers to obtain. Or perhaps the dragon scales--the ones the merchant tried to sell Logan were fakes, forcing him to track down the culprit before sundown. Or perhaps the chimera egg, because chimera eggs didn’t exist. No matter if Janus insisted that Logan should be ‘open to the possibility.’

So, yes, this errand wasn’t the worst of them all. However, it was still up there. Another horrible day to add to his never-ending laundry list. And he had a feeling this would go farther downhill than he expected, because they always did.

Especially when dealing with other witches.

“The spell can’t work without it,” Janus had said, barely paying attention. He was occupied with shaking his magic quill until it stopped replacing es with os. “Be back by dinner.”

Logan had pled, bargained, and complained as much as he could. But Janus, as always, said something about “building character” and “honing his skills” and shoved him out the door. So Logan gathered up his cloak, his pride, and headed for the port.

The one upside of such ridiculous errands was seeing the outside. He usually spent his time studying in the cottage or the garden, but when he reached the foot of the mountain, the port sprawled in front of him. Roads teeming with visitors, some in clothing of nearby villages, others in richer colors than anyone could drain from local berries. Beneath the sphinx-grey sky, the boats flanked the water, masts bristling into the sky and sails full and white like wings.

Logan allowed himself a few moments to stare. To drink in the sounds--languages he didn’t recognize, babbling like brooks--and the smell of baking bread and fresh fabric. A cry blossomed from one dock as a ship slid into the harbor, sails flying, just come back from the sea.

Then a bicycle flew past Logan, splattered his boots with mud, and successfully yanked him back into the real world. He shook himself, checked his candle--it had burned down to the first notch, blue flame merry even in the wind--and set off.

Janus hadn’t given him a map, as usual, and Logan didn’t have the time or the moonlight for a tracking spell. He knew he was aiming for the area near the warehouses, though, and he’d definitely know a coven when he saw it.

Probably. Maybe. It had been a while.

Logan kept to the edges of the crowds. The sun wasn’t too piercing today, but he was still a bit warm in his cloak. He could have gone without it, of course, but it had pockets. Janus would start a lecture if he heard Logan was going without his materials. Still, as he began to get strange glances, he wished he’d just tried to shove everything into his pocket. Most people seemed to simply be curious why he was a bit overdressed. A few, though, looked suspicious enough to make Logan press closer to the buildings.

As he hoped, he knew the door when he saw it. The building somehow managed to list in both directions simultaneously, and when Logan looked closer at it, it folded into itself and tried to avoid detection. Logan pumped his fist in triumph and jumped across a ditch to the door.

It was an old oak door. Logan looked around in the vain hope that Janus would appear and offer directions--he was already feeling cold and uneasy on the stoop. Someone was definitely watching him. Or maybe it was just fear of the stories he’d been told as a kid.

Funny, that he was still scared of witches when he was one. But he was only in training, and there was a difference between witches and witches. Janus said it best. “One is trustworthy,” he’d say, “and two’s company. But three’s a crowd and four’s a coven. If you’re outnumbered, run the other way.”

Logan craned his neck up and peered at the dark, musty windows. How much was he outnumbered right now? Could he still bolt before they spotted him?

Janus would be insufferable if Logan came back empty-handed. And Janus was a jerk and a prick and a bit of a terrible mentor, but he wouldn’t actually lead Logan into danger. At least, Logan hoped not.

Logan swallowed, looked back at the door, and reached for the bronze knocker.

Then the bronze shifted and a mouth snapped at him. He yelped and stumbled back. A bronze toad blinked at him, the knocker between its legs.

“What do you think you’re doing?” complained the toad, beady eyes squinting. Logan stepped a bit further away. “Are you casing the joint? Hey!”

“No!” Logan made a shushing motion. “I’m--I’m just here to talk to someone, don’t--be quiet!”

“Stranger,” the toad said, giving him a belligerent look. “You haven’t been invited.”

“Can I go in anyway?”

“No.”

“Can I talk to someone other than a sentient door knocker?”

“No.”

Logan decided to go for it anyway. He braced himself, reached between the frog’s legs, and pulled up the knocker. When he let it fall, it made a deep thumping noise, so close to thunder that Logan checked the sky to see if it was raining. When he looked back, the frog had pulled itself into a ball again. It was silent, save for the distant yells of sailors as ships pulled in and out of port.

“Hello?” Logan finally said. “I’m not going to just stand here all evening.”

Nothing responded.

He pulled at the knocker again and let it fall. Then he knocked several times on the door, and for good measure, kicked it. It hurt his foot. He could probably bust through the door if he had half an hour and phoenix tears, but as it was, he was resolutely locked out. Ugh.

He kicked the door again. It still hurt. He didn’t know why he expected otherwise.

Just as Logan was about to experiment with climbing through a window, someone yelled “Hold on, jeez, don’t bust the door down!”

Logan whipped his hand behind his back to look as though someone else had done the banging. After a few seconds, the door swung open abruptly. “What is it?”

“Uh,” said Logan, who had been planning for a myriad of things. He had not expected a teenager around his age, looking at him like he was an annoying solicitor. “Hi?”

“Hi,” the person repeated. “Do you need something, or--”

“Uh,” Logan said again. He wished he’d planned more thoroughly for this. “You guys have a kraken, right?”

“Yeah?” Their eyes widened a bit in realization. “Oh, okay, you’re not here about the rent.”

“No,” Logan said. “Is that a concern for you?”

“Half the reason we put the stupid frog up there in the first place.” The person--witch? Maybe? They were definitely something, Logan knew that much, but it was hard to tell in the shadows and their magic didn’t feel like a witch’s--rolled their eyes. “Anyway. What’s up with the kraken?”

“I was wondering if you had any spare tentacles?” Logan asked. “My mentor, J--” Crap, wait, no names. Names had power. What was Janus’ usual pseudonym? “Dee, he needs a tentacle for a spell, and he sent me to ask you for some.”

Well, more aptly, Janus had sent him to “get one, legally or not.” Logan decided not to mention that part.

“Oh!” The person nodded. “Yeah, bad luck--nobody’s home right now.”

“What?”

“The whole coven’s out,” they explained, leaning on the doorframe and tugging at their tunic. “Today’s the day that ship comes back from the northern islands, and everyone wants to see if there’s any lead on those siren theories. It’s been planned for weeks, didn’t Dee tell you?”

“He never tells me anything,” Logan said shortly. Although, he wondered if Janus had purposely sent him to the coven on an empty day. That didn’t bode well for the friendliness of the coven on a non-empty day. “What should I do?”

“Hm.” The person thought for a second, running a hand through their hair. The doorway was so shadowed that it looked like a portal. “I’m not really supposed to let anyone in. I’m holding down the fort, and I’d like to do a good job of standing guard--” They did a little flourish of the hand. “But I could hardly turn away such a petitioner as yourself!”

“I don’t suppose you have any tentacles on hand?” Logan suggested. “You could hand them through the door.”

“Don’t think so,” they said with a wince. “We barely ever harvest them, since it tends to go--poorly.”

Logan tried very carefully to not think about what that meant.

The person glanced into the house, then back at Logan. “Look. I feel bad about letting you leave empty-handed, but I’m really not supposed to let you in, so you’re going to have to be really quick, okay?”

Logan nodded fervently. “Very quick.”

“Fantastic!” They clapped their hands and stepped back into the house. “So, uh, follow me? And don’t touch anything.”

With only a slight pause and a glance at his candle--almost three notches burned through already--Logan entered the coven’s house.

The door slammed shut behind him.

It was dark. He paused before pulling out his candle, but nobody seemed to be upset, so he held it up. Blue light danced along the walls. The wallpaper was peeling, but the carpet was freshly vacuumed, and a vase of daisies balanced on a coffee table. Logan lifted his candle higher and caught the glimmer of spiderwebs, the gleam of stairs to a second floor, and a rustling between a few of the floorboards.

“Maggots or rats?” Logan asked, to judge the probability of the floor collapsing beneath them.

“Maggots,” they said nonchalantly. “Aine keeps some.”

Logan decided to step more carefully.

“Oh!” The person stopped in the middle of the foyer. “Oh, I’m a terrible host, you can’t even see! Hold on!”

A scurrying of shadows, and then the chandelier flared to life. The flames were bright red and dripped along with the wax, a few drops hissing when they hit the carpet far below. Now Logan could see the whole house, with a polished banister wrapping past the stairs and to the second floor. There was a small back door, a few cupboards, and a glimpse of a dining room. It was all dark wood, or maybe that was the red light, that clashed with Logan’s candle and made it a bruised purple.

Movement made Logan look up. Next to the chandelier was the person from before. They smiled and waved at him, before somersaulting off the stairs and landing easily on the carpet.

“Sorry,” they said. “Didn’t realize you couldn’t see. Is that better?”

Logan stared at them. “Did you just jump off the--”

And then his eyes finally adjusted to the light. And then Logan finally--finally, he heard in Janus’ voice, are you really that unobservant--noticed.

A nice smile with bright eyes and a stub nose. Hair that needed a cut, with tufts sticking out in the back. One hand casually leaning on the stairs, the other waving the match until it went out. Smoke coiled from their hand--a hand too smooth and too bony, like someone had just pulled skin over bones and called it a day. A nice smile and pure white eyes.

“Ah,” Logan said, feeling very, very stupid. Because now that he was paying attention, he could feel it, the gentle thrum of magic nearby. But not a rustle like Janus’, or even an unfamiliar flash like the witches he glimpsed in markets. A constant, cold weight in his stomach, like ballast on a ship. “You’re--ah.”

“My name’s Roman,” said Roman, looking barely fazed. “He/him. And I can tell you that, because I’m not all fancy and cagey with my name like all of you!”

“Roman,” Logan repeated. “Nice to meet you, Roman.”

“The pleasure is mine as well!” Roman gestured for him to follow. “Now come on, before everyone gets back.”

Logan nodded and followed, his candle flame shivering. The more he stepped away from the door, the more he felt the cold settling in his bones. Roman didn’t seem to notice, though, because he jumped cheerfully from floorboard to floorboard. When he caught Logan looking, he smiled, as if this was fun. Logan did not find it fun. Logan wished for it to be over.

“Here we are,” Roman said, tugging open a cupboard door. Instead of silverware, Logan saw a long tunnel. “Basement!”

“Basement,” Logan repeated. He supposed no one could keep a kraken in the living room. “Are you coming with me?”

“Yeah, no way you’d know what to do otherwise!” Roman grinned at him. “I’m your tour guide.”

Logan huffed. “I’d know what to do.”

“Sure you would.” Roman turned away, his grin fading to a smirk. “Your collar’s inside out.”

“Wh--is not!” Logan looked down and back up. “It isn’t!”

Roman laughed and stepped into the tunnel. The distant light framed him, making his skin gleam waxy. “Coming?”

Logan huffed again, gathered his cloak to keep it from dragging on the wet stone, and followed.

The tunnel was cramped. Roman led the way, jumping expertly from rock to rock, and Logan struggled to keep up. His blue candle lit the place in an eerie glow. When he tried to listen for sounds, he could hear nothing except a distant lapping of waves, which made his stomach turn.

He tripped, dropped a packet of laurel, and bent to grab it. Roman paused and waited with barely disguised mockery until Logan had gathered his things again.

“Shut up,” Logan said, even though Roman hadn’t said anything.

“You’re pretty small for a witch,” Roman said, turning back around. “Should you really be messing with this stuff?”

“Like I said, it was Dee’s idea.” Logan tried to hurry after him. “I’d much rather not be in a tunnel right now.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Roman sucked in a breath and let it out. “Look, I’d just--if I were you, I’d start trying to master necromancy, because you are absolutely doomed.”

“Am not,” Logan decided to say instead of panicking.

“Are too!” Roman fired back over his shoulder. “Now hurry up, we haven’t got all day, witch boy.”

“We’re the same age, Roman!”

“I’m taller than you!”

Logan bit back a retort and just tried to hurry. He tripped several more times, and Roman gave him a judgmental look. Logan tried to return it. As they approached the end of the tunnel, though, his anger was less and less strong. It was slowly replaced with apprehension.

Roman didn’t seem nervous. Although, Logan admitted, he didn’t know the guy well enough to be sure. He trusted Roman on instinct--maybe because he liked his smile, or because if he decided not to, this entire situation became more perilous by tenfold.

“You’re not going to kill me,” Logan decided to confirm. “Right?”

“What? No!” Roman laughed. “I would never do that.”

“And...”

“And I can’t say the same of anyone else here,” Roman said. “Or the lovely kraken you’ve decided to pay a visit to.”

Logan swallowed.

Roman kept walking ahead of him, and Logan tried to focus on anything except the house far behind them and the water ahead of them. Roman. He moved with smoothness, like candlewax dripping from a chandelier, but his joints often jerked in ways Logan didn’t believe were natural. His skin reflected Logan’s candle, and he seemed just slightly left of a living person. Just too perfect, and just too not.

When he was a kid, Logan heard stories about creations that fell apart mid-motion, a pile of limbs in the street. He hated that he could see exactly where it would happen--the joints jammed together, an ugly seam line, easy to break. He felt a bit like he was next to a fragile vase. One bump, and he’d find out what exactly Roman had been made of.

Candlewax, probably. That was a common one. Or wood, for a sturdier frame, and sometimes cloth. Janus told him about a glass one once. Logan could barely imagine the power that usually went into them--one witch was trustworthy, two was company, three was a crowd. Four was enough to make life from nothing.

Logan had found the whole thing fascinating. Until now, when he was following Roman through the tunnel, and beginning to think about it a bit too hard.

Roman was about Logan’s age. He must have grown just like Logan. He was probably registered as Roman Galatea--most were--if he legally existed at all. And Logan felt so horrible about even thinking like that, because it seemed to rob Roman of his personhood, except he didn’t really have any--except he clearly did, except--

Janus didn’t use those kinds of spells. He’d never created anything like that. Logan asked him, once, if it was dark magic.

“Don’t be an idiot,” Janus had told him, which was how most of his lectures started. “There’s no such thing as dark magic. There’s just magic.”

“Sounds like something a dark magician would say.”

Janus had sighed. “Some people would call creating life ‘dark magic,’ yes. I wouldn’t, because as stated above, I think it’s all stupid.”

Logan had paused. “You don’t do it, though.”

“Of course not.” Janus smirked. “There’s enough life in the world without me adding to it.”

And now Logan was here, approaching a kraken and somehow more scared of the only other living thing in the house.

And then Roman told him to hurry up, and Logan rolled his eyes, and he easily fell back into being annoyed by a kid his age. Maybe it meant something, how easy it was. Maybe it didn’t.

Maybe he was overthinking this to a ridiculous degree, because they’d just met and Roman didn’t even know his name.

“Almost there,” Roman said, pulling Logan from his thoughts. “Do you have a plan?”

“A plan?” Logan blinked. “Get a tentacle?”

A long pause. “Okay, look, I want to support you in your dreams and all, but--”

“But that’s a stupid plan?”

“But it was nice knowing you.”

Logan rolled his eyes again. They already felt sore from all the rolling. “I do have skills--”

“Not saying you don’t,” Roman said, in a tone that showed he was saying that Logan didn’t. “So do I. Doesn’t mean I do stupid things like charge in to face a kraken alone.”

“I have you.”

Roman snickered. “I’m not going to be much help, unless you want to be serenaded while you die painfully.”

“True,” Logan said. “Or you could murder me.”

“I’m trustworthy!”

“Are you?”

“Yes!” Roman pouted. “You’re the one who I don’t trust. Never trust a witch, you know.”

“You can trust witches,” Logan said, feeling a bit hurt. “One witch is trustworthy, and two is company.”

“And who says that?”

“Witches--” Logan paused. “I see your point.”

Roman laughed. “Hurry up, trustworthy witch boy.”

Logan hiked up his cloak. Despite his best efforts, the hem was entirely soaked with water. The bottom of the tunnel was getting steadily wetter as they traveled, splashing water as he walked, and he wondered how on earth such a long tunnel could exist under one house.

He asked Roman that, and Roman laughed. “We’re under the sea right now!”

“We’re what?” Logan was ashamed of the way his voice squeaked. “Is that safe?”

“Yeah, we’re deep down in the rock!” Roman held out a hand and a drop of water hit his palm. It skidded off the waxy surface. Logan almost jumped away from it when it fell. “Relax, you’ll be fine.”

Logan was far less certain. He had known a kraken was a water-dwelling creature, but he’d expected a small pond. Or, hopefully, a dry drawer with tentacles inside. He hadn’t planned for an entire ocean over his head. Logan shoved the image of drowning from his head--he was doing a lot of repression today, he noticed--and soldiered after Roman.

Before Logan could even ask Roman to slow down and possibly reassure him that they were not going to die, the tunnel finally opened up. Logan’s candle shuddered--four notches already, more than halfway burned through--and he stepped into the kraken’s cave.

Cave was the only word for it. It was a cylindrical hole in the rock, ten times taller than Logan, with stalactites bristling on the walls, cold and grey as icicles. A pool of dark water sat beneath them--a perfect circular disk, with small waves lapping at the stone. A few paths were hewn roughly into the rock. It smelled like brine and old fish at the market and Janus’ boots when he forgot to clean them. Roman plugged his nose.

And ten feet below them, a tentacle rested on an outcrop of rock. Ugly green, horrifically slimy, and with suckers the size of Logan’s palm.

“Good,” Logan said, trying to find some silver lining in this situation. “That should be simple.”

“Shh!” Roman’s hand clapped over Logan’s mouth. It was surprisingly warm, just like a normal hand, and Logan found himself distracted. “Come on, if it’s sleeping, you do not want to wake it up.”

“Okay, okay!” Logan batted Roman’s hand away. “I get it, Roman.”

“If you say so.” Roman stepped back towards the tunnel, which was a gaping hole in the rock. It looked like a mouth. Like a kraken’s mouth, in fact, and Logan was going to stop thinking now. “Well? Go ahead!”

“Right,” Logan said, wishing he knew a spell to summon confidence. He took a deep breath, tried to ignore the crushing weight of water above him, and tiptoed forward. Almost immediately, his foot skidded on the damp rock. He barely managed to keep his balance. Behind him, Roman laughed.

“Hey!” Logan complained. “You said be quiet!”

“Who’s the one talking now?”

Logan threw up his hands and turned around. Thankfully, the dark water was still as a mirror. The tentacle lolled on the rocks. He just needed to creep down, cut it off, and creep back up! Which, of course, relied on the kraken sleeping through the loss of a body part, but maybe krakens weren’t extremely sensitive to pain! Possibly. Hopefully.

When Logan got back, he was going to kill Janus.

He inched towards the edge of the rocks, checking every two seconds for movement. Nothing. Behind him, Roman loitered in the tunnel. Maybe he wanted to see the show.

Logan slipped between two rocks, scraping a knuckle on one. He bit back a yelp. No time for noise. His cloak was heavy with water--water above him, and below him, don’t think about that--but it muffled his footprints easily. He dug in one pocket, holding up the candle with the other, and pulled out a pocketknife. The blade was dull. He should have sharpened it before he left.

He should have done a lot of things, actually. For example, he should have written his will.

Logan let out a long breath, snuck down towards the water, and knelt next to the tentacle.

Up close, it was even more disgusting. Logan felt water seep through the knees of his pants, and he hoped it was water and not slime from the tentacle. When he glanced up, he could see Roman in the tunnel opening, watching him. Probably thinking he looked like an idiot. He probably did.

Logan gripped the knife tightly. Okay. A clean, swift cut--put the power in his arm, not his wrist, and keep it away from his other fingers. Okay. Focus.

Three, two, one.

Logan let the knife fall.

And to his credit--yes, the thinnest of silver linings, but he was going to allow himself something--the blade made it more than halfway through in one swoop. The flesh parted easily.

Then the tentacle spasmed, shot back into the water, and the candle slipped from his fingers. It skidded on the rocks and slipped into the water with a hiss. He could see the blue flame, still burning--and then he couldn’t, as a large shadow passed over it.

Ah.

Logan waited for something to happen. He should probably move, but he was frozen, watching the dark water. Silence. The drip-drip of water above him.

“Um,” Logan finally said, his voice high-pitched. “Roman?”

“What?” Roman asked.

“I--uh--” Logan swallowed. “We might want to run now.”

The water exploded.

Logan threw himself backwards, hitting the rocks and jostling his bones. He scrambled to his feet as quickly as possible. Something large moved above him, and water fell on him like rain, plastering his hair to his skull and fogging his glasses. He rubbed at them and tried to stumble in a direction that wasn’t near the giant flailing thing.

A hand grabbed his arm, and he was hauled in an entirely different direction. “You idiot!” Roman yelled, half-dragging him away from the water.

“You’re one to talk!” Logan managed. “Don’t be so loud!”

“Oh, what, because it’ll hear us?” Roman waved an arm at the boiling water. “I think we’re well past that.”

Logan swore and let Roman toss him behind a rock. He tried to catch his breath. Water dripped down his skin, already making his hands shake, and he could hear the sounds of rocks hitting each other. Roman crouched next to him, between the rock and the wall, eyes wide and white and very judgmental.

“I didn’t mean to,” Logan blurted out, as if it mattered at this point. “I didn’t--”

Roman rolled his eyes hard. “What do we do now?”

“Wait for it to tire out?”

Another tentacle, the size of a centaur, smacked the ceiling. Rocks trembled and stalactites quivered, promising a painful deluge.

Roman looked up at the shaking ceiling, then back at Logan. “Any other bright ideas, witch boy?”

“My name is Logan,” Logan snapped, then realized he had been an idiot. “Uh.”

“Relax, I can’t do anything with it, can I?” Roman eyed the rocks around them. “Do you think we could run for it?”

“I could hardly catch up to you.”

“Then what do we do?” Roman looked at Logan and his eyes lit up. “Do you have a spell for this?”

Logan almost laughed. “Yes, my convenient kraken-repelling spell that requires no time or materials, and can be cast while I’m drenched in water.”

“Oh, good!” Roman blinked. “That was sarcasm, wasn’t it.”

“Take a wild guess!” Logan peeked around the rock. The kraken didn’t seem to have found them yet, but its tentacles were flailing wildly and sleepily, like a rooster woke it up and it wanted to make the sound stop. “This is a disaster. What can you do to make it stop?”

“I’m not exactly powerful,” Roman said sheepishly. “I can ask it nicely?”

“It’s not sentient!”

“I could try anyway!”

“Wonderful.” Logan bit back a yell of frustration. “I’m going to die. I’m going to die with an absolute idiot!”

“Hey, rude!” Roman fired back, ducking a spray of water. “Who woke the thing up again? Uh, wasn’t me!”

“Dee told me to!” Logan ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t think he expected this to go so wrong, but I’m still going to blame him.”

“He’d, like, interfere, right?” Roman didn’t look hopeful. “If you got hurt?”

“He doesn’t know where I am.” Logan looked at his hands. They were scraped with blood and covered in mud, making the skin look even darker than usual. “I can usually get back to him by snuffing the candle--”

A tentacle narrowly missed their rock. It hit the wall, coiled against it in a spray of slime, and retreated angrily.

“--which is currently at the bottom of the pool,” Logan finished. “Because I dropped it.”

Roman seemed to hold back his own frustrated yell. “Okay. Wonderful. Fantastic. Just exactly what we needed.”

“Don’t patronize me.”

“Fine, then, we’re all doomed!” Roman threw up his hands. “We can’t outrun the thing--well, you certainly can’t--and we have no backup!”

Logan tried to scoot closer to the wall. “Do you have anyone to summon?”

“No,” Roman said.

“You’re absolutely sure?”

“Yes.” Roman laughed a bit, which almost made Logan feel better. “It takes half the coven to even put this thing to sleep. I send them a flare, they’ll probably say ‘what flowers do you want at your funeral?’“

Logan groaned and let his head fall onto the wall. “Why’d you even let me in here?”

“You asked!” Roman complained. “I was being polite! I figured you’d get creeped out and turn around!”

“I should have,” Logan said. Curse his pride and inability to stop doing things when told to do them. “Too late now, I suppose.”

A deluge of water fell on them both. When Logan looked up, he saw the rocks shaking faster and faster. That was, to the best of his knowledge, very bad.

"How long would it take to run for it?” Logan asked.

“You’re wearing a cloak,” Roman said. “You’re not capable of running anywhere.”

Logan, with only a moment’s hesitation, tugged it off. He tossed it in the air. A tentacle speared it, and it vanished.

“You’re capable of running,” Roman amended. “Just not fast. I could run for it--”

“Don’t,” Logan said.

“Why not?”

“Well, if you wanted to do so, you would have already.” Logan eyed the rocks. “Besides, if the tunnel began to collapse, you’d be trapped.”

Roman let out a breath. “Fair. So we’re back to no plan?”

“Back to no plan,” Logan agreed, as more water trickled down the back of his neck. They could simply sit there as long as possible, which seemed the only solid option, but an option that still led to eventual death and/or mauling by tentacle. Logan needed to think.

He knew spells. Spells that mostly required materials, which were in his cloak, which were in the bottom of the pool along with the candle. He knew how to escape to Janus--but, again, candle.

Logan began to realize that his knowledge, while vast in areas such as geography and astrophysics, was ill-equipped to handle a kraken. When he got back to Janus, he was definitely going to teach himself every creature spell in the cottage.

If he got back.

Would Janus notice? Would he assume Logan was late again? How long would it take for him to put the pieces together and realize--

Logan was breathing too fast. He needed to calm down. He needed to think.

He glanced at Roman, who was still looking around wildly, as if he could summon a plan. Logan could feel Roman’s magic, thick and cold, in his chest.

And the beginnings of a plan formed. It was a plan that Logan hated on multiple levels, and Roman would probably despise, but it was a plan.

“Can you swim?” Logan asked.

“Yeah!” Roman said, yelling over the sound of a rock crashing into the water. “Can you?”

“No!” Logan said. “I’m terrified of water, actually!”

“You’re terrified of water?” Roman’s panic gave way to incredulity. “Humans need it.”

“I mean big bodies of water!” Logan pointed up. “Like what is currently above us!”

“Oh.”

“So no, I can’t swim.” Logan hesitated. “You can?”

“Candles float in water!” Roman grinned. “Thus, so do I.”

“Ah.” Logan put a few more pieces of the plan together in his head. “I have an idea, and you may not like it.”

“I don’t like anything you’ve said today,” Roman said. “By now, I’ve taken that for granted. Continue.”

Logan took a deep breath just as another splash of water hit them. He coughed. Roman thumped on his chest unhelpfully until the water receded.

“As I was saying,” Logan said, attempting to look more confident than he was. He probably looked a complete mess--no cloak, which bared his arms and mis-matched socks, and straggly hair over his forehead. Roman, by contrast, still looked fine. Nice smile and perfect hair. Unfair.

“As I was saying,” Logan repeated, trying to remember what he was saying. “We need a plan. I can get us out of here if I find that candle, but it’s somewhere in the pool--”

“And only one of us can swim and see in the dark,” Roman finished. He didn’t look happy, but he looked resigned. “So I get the candle for you?”

“I’ll distract the kraken in the meantime,” Logan said.

“That sounds dangerous.”

“So does swimming around in that pool,” Logan pointed out. “And this entire debacle in the first place--which, rest assured, I am going to yell at Dee for.”

“Yeah, that’s my biggest concern right now.” Roman peeked around the rock. “So I bring you the candle, and then--”

“I snuff it and teleport us out of here.”

“And it takes us--”

“To Dee, probably.” Logan paused. “Actually, it takes us to the last place I felt safe, so I’m not quite sure where we’ll end up. Most likely, near Dee.”

Roman looked a bit alarmed by the idea of teleporting somewhere random, but a tentacle crept around the rock and he smashed it with his hand. It retreated with a guttural hiss. “I guess we’ve got no better options.”

“Sorry,” Logan said, despite himself. “I don’t wish to put you in danger.”

“Well, the host has to be polite to the guests!” Roman said, smiling. “Compromise is the best plan, and I’m certainly brave enough to pull it off. Besides, I’m used to being taken advantage of!”

“Um--”

“So when do we do it?” Roman actually looked excited. Maybe he was just glad to have a plan. “Do I go ahead?”

“You can go a few seconds after I do,” Logan said. He pushed himself onto his knees and stared at the slippery rocks next to them. “I’ll run around and distract it. Maybe I’ll even grab a tentacle while I’m there.”

“Optimistic,” Roman said.

“It’s that or start crying.” Logan braced himself. He’d have to run fast, keep away from the walls, and do his best to be noticed. The exact opposite of his usual plan. “Go?”

“Good luck!”

“I’ll need it,” Logan said, and pushed himself out from behind the rock.

He’d meant to check on Roman, to see if Roman was leaving okay. He didn’t have time. Almost instantly, a tentacle barreled past him, hitting the wall with bone-shaking force. Logan tossed himself in the first direction he thought of, tumbled down a few rocks, and found himself far closer to the water than he’d like. It was frothing white and angry, tentacles clawing at the walls.

Okay, so he did not want to fall into that. Logan swallowed the lump of terror in his throat--he was going to drown--and began to scale the rocks. He could work in circles, or he could just bob from rock to rock, back and forth.

Quickly, though, he realized that no plan would work. He couldn’t plan ahead. All he could do was duck.

Duck a swing from overhead. Duck a flash of wet, grey skin from behind. Lunge left, lunge right, move before he slipped, move, move.

He found himself in a rhythm. Toss himself in a direction, grab wildly for a handhold, and dangle for a second. Then he heard a telltale splash and threw himself in a different direction. His hands ached. He barely noticed.

“Over here,” he yelled at one point. He was so out of breath that he barely made a sound. Maybe he was enough of a distraction already--he hoped so. Roman was down there somewhere. Hopefully.

Logan risked a glance at the water. No sign of him. Logan’s chest was cold, because of the freezing ocean water, not because of magic.

Toss himself in a direction, hope for a handhold, regret life decisions, repeat.

Logan was never going to complain about a boring errand again.

“Roman?” he finally called. No answer.

Roman could breathe underwater--well, more aptly, he didn’t need to breathe as much. He would be fine. Unless he’d fainted, or been smashed by a tentacle, or drowned--

Logan’s fingers slipped on a rock. He gripped it tighter and kept moving.

Move, grab, hang, move--

“Logan!”

Logan almost whooped in relief. He whirled and saw Roman, drenched and triumphant, ten feet below him. The candle guttered in his left hand. Only one notch left.

“Thank you!” Logan called back, out of politeness. Roman gave him a thumbs up, then leapt into the air to avoid a tentacle. Leap, duck, roll, and Roman was only a few feet away. He grinned widely at Logan.

“I’ll get to you,” Logan said, slipping down a sheet of rock. It crumbled under his feet, falling into the water. “Wait there.”

“No problem!” Roman said, which even Logan could tell was a lie. He dodged another tentacle, which looped around in midair and tried to grab him again. Roman kicked it. “Oh, it’s getting smarter!”

“Fascinating.” Logan let himself fall another few feet, then grabbed a notch of rock. “Almost there.”

“It was pretty cool down there,” Roman rambled, jumping from foot to foot. “Just one big eye--”

A wave of water hit Logan in the back.

The kraken had indeed gotten smarter. Or, perhaps, it was finally fully awake. This wave was tall enough to reach them both, and strong enough to punch Logan’s breath from his lungs. It hurt so much that he didn’t even realize when his hands emptied.

Logan fell into the water.

It was cold. Colder than Roman’s magic, colder than the coven’s house, colder than a winter blizzard. Logan almost gasped. He clapped his hand over his mouth as a last resort. Shock tingled up his legs and arms.

He wasn’t supposed to panic. He knew that much. He needed to kick off his shoes and swim for the surface. But the water was tossing him around, currents and foam and cold hands on his skin, and he didn’t know which way was up. He kicked his feet. One shoe slid off.

Through the fuzzy darkness, he saw a flash of blue.

Move--move as fast as he could. He needed to move--he was going to drown--

He sank deeper.

And two hands grabbed his.

Roman was far warmer than the water around them, oddly. And his magic, when it spilled into Logan, felt warm too. Molten. Roman squeezed Logan’s hands and pressed the candle into one of them. Logan looked down at it, trying to clear his head and remember exactly what he was supposed to do.

Right. Snuff the candle. Get home.

He could barely see--

Then everything was yellow. Roman’s face burned into view, eyes wide and pale, feet kicking carefully at the water. Logan looked down at the candle stub with its bright blue flame, then turned to look at the source of the light.

Ah. An eye, big as the sail of a ship, yellow and fiery with a slit-black pupil.

"Shit,” Logan said.

Bubbles erupted from his mouth. They looked like pearls in the yellow light. Logan blinked several times and tore his gaze away. But he could feel the eye on him--he could hear the water moving--he could hear the kraken’s heart, if he tried, a solid thump-thump through the water--

Roman said something muffled. Logan looked at him. Roman groaned and exaggeratedly mouthed snuff the candle.

Logan looked down at the candle. Snuff the candle. Except the candle was already in water, and it was burning strong. How had he done this before? He didn’t remember--all he remembered was the first time he used it, when Janus wasn’t safe yet, when he ended up halfway across the world--

Logan batted at the flame. It didn’t budge. He blew on it, and got a stream of yellow-lit bubbles. The candle was so small. If it went out, their chance was lost, and the entire ocean was above them and around them and--

Another muffled yell from Roman. Logan looked up.

You are a witch, Roman mouthed at him. You can snuff the--muffled--candle.

Logan steadied himself.

Magic always felt odd to use. It started as cold rain, when he was a kid, like a bucket of cold water in his bed to wake him up. As he grew, it was warmer, a light rain in the garden, dewdrops on a spring morning.

He dug at his magic like digging into dirt, and waited to find a shoot.

The candle fizzed.

He didn’t have enough. He hadn’t cast a spell all day, so he should have enough for a simple spell, but he was cold and wet and terrified and frozen in the gaze of a creature older and bigger than he was. And he was on his own.

If he was outnumbered, run the other way.

Roman squeezed his hand.

Except he wasn’t. He wasn’t outnumbered. It was two against one, although Roman wasn’t a witch, just a witch’s creation. Just a piece of candlewax and magic with a nice smile--

A piece of magic.

Oh, that was a terrible idea.

Can I, Logan tried to mouth, borrow some--

What? Roman mouthed back with high eyebrows.

Something moved in the darkness, and the yellow light winked out for a second, before returning in full force. It made Logan’s limbs feel heavy. He could barely see the candle’s flame.

Sorry, he decided to mouth. I’m sorry about this.

He could apologize more if they survived.

For now, Logan gripped Roman’s hand and concentrated. Roman. Probably Roman Galatea, but more importantly, Roman. Roman gave Logan his name--which was an act of trust that Logan was now breaking, but don’t think about that--and it made things easier.

Finding his own magic was digging in soil. Finding someone else’s was breaking through a layer of frost, and Logan really hoped it didn’t hurt, because he was trying to just borrow as much as he needed but he was tired and couldn’t focus--

Tug. Throw them into a random direction. Grab the candle. Cling to Roman’s hand.

Move.

The flame winked out.

The eye winked out.

And Logan took a gasping breath of fresh air.

They were standing at the foot of the mountain. In front of them was the port, teeming with life, and the late-afternoon sky streaked with sun. Ships creaked back and forth like toys, and sails billowed in the wind. Logan took one look at the ocean, stretching out to infinity, and promptly turned away.

He looked down at one hand. The candle was gone.

He looked at the other. Roman’s hand was still in his. Drops of water beaded on his skin.

Logan looked up just in time for Roman to crush him in a hug.

“We did it!” Roman cheered, spinning Logan in a circle. “Success! Victory!”

“Put me down!” Logan yelled, kicking at thin air.

“Triumph!” Roman declared, but he put Logan back down. Logan rubbed at his sleeves and tried to drain the water from his shirt. His cloak was probably beneath the ocean right now. Janus would be annoyed about that.

“We did it,” Roman repeated gleefully.

“We did it,” Logan agreed, allowing himself a small smile of his own. “I--uh. Sorry. About taking your magic without asking.”

“Oh,” Roman said, like he hadn’t considered that would be something worth apologizing for. “Well, it got us out, so I don’t mind.”

“Don’t you?” Logan asked. He almost wished Roman would argue with him, to make Logan feel less like a jerk.

“Eh, it was fine, emergencies are emergencies.” Roman shrugged. “Plus, your magic feels pretty nice!”

Logan blinked. “It does?”

“Uh--kind of,” Roman said hastily. “Not in a nice way. You’re annoying.”

“Ah,” Logan said. He fake-coughed to gather his thoughts, and found a real cough instead. More coughs bubbled up. He doubled over and squeezed his eyes shut until they faded. “I hate water.”

“After today, I might be joining you with that.” Roman wiped water from his hair ruefully. “I wouldn’t be surprised if the entire cavern collapsed soon.”

“Would the kraken die?”

“Probably not.” Roman looked out to sea. “It would just slip through the cracks, creeping through the shadows to prey on unsuspecting ships, its tentacles grasping for blood--”

“Don’t,” Logan pleaded. “I do not want to think about that.”

“But we beat it!” Roman grinned. “Kind of sort of! I mean, we successfully fled the scene, which is more than most people!”

“True,” Logan admitted. “I didn’t get a tentacle--”

“Is Dee going to be mad?”

Logan looked down at his wet, bloody clothes. On any other day, he’d say yes. He’d never actually failed an errand--but he’d never almost died on one, either.

“No,” Logan said. “He’ll understand. And after the kraken, I don’t think I’m scared of being yelled at.”

Roman nodded. “Yeah, me neither.”

“You--oh.” Logan winced. “Oh, you’re going to get in trouble for this, aren’t you?”

“If they find out!” Roman tapped the side of his nose. “I have many excuses.”

“And if they find out?”

“I’ll get an earful.” Roman sighed. “Since you didn’t steal anything, though, and since the kraken is still intact, I think it’ll pass.”

“That’s good.” Logan glanced up the mountain trail. Janus would definitely be expecting him soon. “Er--I should be going.”

“Oh!” Roman looked a bit disappointed. “Okay, yeah, you have your witchy business, I understand. Fair travels!”

Logan nodded slowly. “Thank you, Roman. For everything. I truly appreciate it.”

“Aw, he has a heart!” Roman grinned. “You’re welcome. I’m awesome.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Logan said. “Still, I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“You couldn’t have!”

“You’re ruining this.”

Roman grinned wider. In the sunlight, he didn’t look off anymore. Well, he didn’t look human, but Logan barely noticed. He looked a bit like a jackrabbit. Gangly and brown and long-legged, with bright and cheerful white eyes.

“My point is that I’m grateful.” Logan rubbed at his arm, feeling nervous. “And--if you ever need me, feel free to visit.”

“If I need a tentacle?”

“We don’t have tentacles. If you need something other than a tentacle, yes.”

“What use could I have for a non-tentacle?” Roman teased. “Your offer is much appreciated. I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Good.” Logan waved quickly at him. “Er--goodbye?”

“Fare thee well!” Roman bowed and jumped towards the port. He really was like a jackrabbit. “Don’t drown!”

“I’ll endeavor not to!”

Roman smiled and continued to scramble down the path.

“Wait,” Logan called, before he could stop himself. “Why did you help?”

“What?” Roman asked, pivoting.

“You could have easily ran,” Logan said, gesturing to Roman. “You’ve been leaping down the hillside. You could have left me and escaped.”

“We got out anyway, didn’t we?” Roman pressed a hand to his chest. “How could I abandon someone in need? Even an irritating and naive someone such as yourself.”

Logan glared at him.

“And--” Roman rubbed at his hair sheepishly. “You call me by my name. People don’t usually do that.”

“Oh,” Logan said.

Roman shrugged even more sheepishly.

“Well, I’ll just have to do it more to make up for it,” Logan said. “Does that work, Roman?”

Roman beamed. “Sounds like a plan, Logan.”

Janus would never recommend sharing his name with a near-stranger. Janus would say that was unsafe. Janus would say one witch was trustworthy, and one was all anyone needed.

But two was company. Logan found he rather liked having company.

“Sounds like a plan,” Logan agreed, and smiled back.

Give me a prompt, and I’ll write a short drabble!

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