Welcome fellow blacks

Hey bitches, bros, and non-binary hoes. Its ya girl, Jay. I use she/her pronouns, but I also don't really care, and I'm 24 years old. Welcome to my madness😂

Now I'm not new to the fanfiction universe, but I am new at actually posting my nonsense for the whole world to see. So please be kind and applaud me for my bravery.

I also cross post (when I remember) on my Ao3, so I'll link that too. Eventually, I'll post the stories I made on Ao3 on here, but I'm just a girl who has raging ADHD and forgets this way too easily.

Stay queer. Stay weird, and have a good time!

My Ao3

Rules and Warnings

Masterlist is a work in progress, but one day it shall be beautiful!

Guns, Smoke, and Ivy's (Being rewritten)

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Stitched Hearts, Stitched Souls

You think you know the man you fall in love with and start to build a future-- that is until he up and fucking leaves you alone, pregnant, and saddled with a mountain of debt to a mob group.

And what's worse, is these men, the damn 141, keep bothering her outside of getting the money owed to them. Their like flies, zipping around her life like discarded food left so carelessly behind.

Why the hell cant they just leave her alone?

Chapter One

Chapter Two

The Lost Soul of Blackstone

Calypso always thought she knew her place in the Golden Castle. Be a close companion to the princess, assist her in her lessons and everyday, and be a good girl. Her life was fine, she was lucky even, for a commoner like her to be given a position that so many dream of.

But when Calypso is stolen the night before she and the princess were set to travel, that fine life she had been living feels like it was turned on its head. Now she had to be under the care and eye of her kingdom's enemy, King John Price.

What did he want with her? Why did he want her? And why won't he let her go?

This is a 141 fantasy story, have fun!😊

Chapter One-Responsibility is mine alone

Chapter Two-Cuts and Familiar Faces

Chapter Three-Flowers and Mushroom

WC: 4614

Thaila met David while studying abroad in London at the University of the Arts during her junior and senior years of college. It was a golden opportunity, one she worked so hard to get, and when that letter came in the mail that she got accepted, best believe she took it.

As if she were a cliche, she literally ran into him when she was rushing to get to class. Basically mowed him down, causing them both to crash onto the grass. He was a champ about it, laughing and asking her where the fire was.

“Oh god, I'm so so so so sorry! I wasn't looking where I was going!”

“Its fine, love. I was merely in the way of your hurricane.” David laughed as Thaila helped him up. The grass was still a bit wet from the morning dew, and the evidence of that stained their clothes.

“Again, sorry. I'm a bit lost and trying to find my class building.”

David just smiled at her and asked what building she was looking for. Thaila told him, and he personally walked her the rest of the way, talking and joking as if she didn't just accidentally assault him. By the time she got to her class, with a few minutes to spare, they had already exchanged numbers, and a tentative cafe meet-up was made.

They ended up meeting at the campus cafe more than once, talking and getting to know one another.

Thaila learned that he was getting his master's in Accounting and Financial Management, that he was born and raised in London with his mother and now passed father, and that the day they met, he was coming from a seminar. She shared her story too, told him about her messy, complicated family, her dreams of opening her own boutique, and her not-so-fun life in America.

They most certainly had cultural differences, but that made their long talks and meetups even more fun.

By the time her study abroad was finished, she and David had already started dating. He was her first real boyfriend, the first serious romantic relationship she ever had. She had met his mom and all of his friends, already so ingrained in each other’s lives.

His mother wasn't the biggest fan of her, and wasn't necessarily shy about it, but David assured her that it was because their relationship was new and that she was a foreigner.

She graduated with her bachelor's and, with some light convincing from David, moved back to London instead of going back to America. Thaila had gotten a few internship offers for when she graduated, from brands and designers impressed with her work, and a good chunk of those were in the UK.

David told her that it was clearly a sign to come back to London. He graduated a year before her and was already off to a strong start in his career, telling her that if she moved here with him, he could help her make her dream a reality and get her on her feet.

Was she being naive and too trusting of him?

Yes, absolutely. She was 21 years old and fresh out of college. Not like that was the prime age for making sound, clear-cut choices.

But it wasn't like she had anything real waiting for her back home, and this could be the fresh start she needed more than anything. David became her person, someone she opened her heart to, something she hadn’t wanted to do for a long time. Didn't hurt that the sex was solid too.

They had another year of dating before David proposed to her. Stupidly, she said yes. At that point, he kept his promise to her. He was making good money, starting a new job with a new company. He even surprised her with a small, empty storefront he bought for her at the end of her internship.

“Well, if you're going to be the best dressmaker in Bristol, I figured you would need your own shop to fill with your creations.”

That's what he told her, and honestly, Thaila couldn't have been happier. She swore that she would pay him back for it, every last penny. But David told her that this was her dream, her future. That he was just happy to be a part of it.

Thaila should have known something was up, should have asked more questions about how he got the money, any of his money.

But she was seeing her new life through rose-tinted glasses, and at the time, there was no way she was planning to take them off.

When she opened her business, it was understandably slow, but she used the connections she made to drum up business.

They got married in the spring, with rows filled with his family and friends and a few friends she made in college. It honestly felt perfect, no crazy drama, no fuss.

When they got back from their honeymoon, he surprised her yet again, this time with a cute little cottage in Bristol.

This time, thankfully, Thaila did ask questions. When he found this house and how much it was. Now that they are married, he can’t make these decisions without her.

Man, did he not like that.

“This is for our future, babe. We can’t just be in a shitty flat for the rest of our lives.” David huffed, pacing at her as they sat in their “shitty flat”. “Can’t have my bosses think they hired a fuckin muppet.”

That was always the way the arguments started. The dismissing talks about money, the lack of communication, the phone calls he would walk out of the room to take, and the number of business trips he had taken lately. They should still have been in their honeymoon phase, and yet it felt like they were more disconnected than ever.

When she brought it up to a friend, she suggested that maybe they weren’t having enough sex, that physical intimacy was really important in marriage, especially early on.

And Thaila tried. Putting on the best dresses she had made, cooked dinner just like his mom taught her, made sure the house was clean, and everything was ready when David came home. It worked, and worked for a while. Almost every time he came home from work or came back from his business trips, they’d have sex, and Thaila saw a change.

David was more attentive at home and towards her business, speaking to her lovingly, going on more dates, acting like the man she met back in college. He bought her gifts and flowers after work, took her on trips.

When they found out they were pregnant, Thaila was so excited, and David was too, for maybe the first 2 months.

After that, he started changing again, this time far worse than before. He snapped at her more, spent more time at work, or delayed coming back from business trips. He became paranoid, always checking over his shoulder, demanding to know where she was and who would come into the boutique. No matter how many times she assured him or tried to calm him down, it would only work for a short time before he started back up again.

Thalia tried to chalk it up to the stress of work and the pregnancy. They had only been married for two years at that point, and while they had talked about having kids, since his career was taking off and her business was just starting to pick up traction, a baby was a bit ill-timed.

Still, she was happy and blindly believed that everything would get better once the baby came.

She remembered that day so vividly now, when she reached her 6th month, and David told her that he had to go away on another business trip, one that he could be away for much longer than the previous trips. Thaila tried to ask where his employers were sending him, but he wouldn’t tell her, shifting and just kept telling her that he was sorry for having to leave so close to delivery, that he would try to come back as soon as he could, and that he loved her.

He left that next morning– or maybe in the middle of the night, who fucking knows, and she was alone. Thaila tried calling several times to check on him and give him updates, only to get short, clipped calls and one-word texts until she got no responses at all.

Calls going straight to voicemail, texts bouncing back. She panicked, worried that something had happened to him, that he had just left her, or if he was stranded somewhere. She tried calling his mom, his friends, even the cops, but they were no help. Hell, his mother blamed her for his disappearance.

3 weeks.

3 weeks of nothing. Thaila was instructed by the police and her doctor not to overly stress herself out, as adding additional stress could be very damaging for both her and the baby.

Shit advice, honestly. How could someone not be stressed when their husband was missing and 6 months pregnant?

Well, turns out that one could get stressed even more. The type of stress that leads to a nice, week-long stay in the hospital before delivering a baby alone, scared, and pissed the hell off.

~*~

It happened so quickly, she didn't have time to think or even breathe. It was when she was closing up the boutique that Thaila had already let Ms. Lee go home for the day after finishing up an order. Ms. Lee tried to tell her she could wait for her, but Thaila said she was fine, that there was still daylight and people around.

So fucking stupid.

Once Ms. Lee left, Thaila did her final closing duties, making sure the safe was locked, all the orders were cataloged for tomorrow, and the security code was entered before she left. She always closed early on Tuesday, and as she already knew, there were still people walking around.

Thaila began her walk to her car, humming to herself and absentmindedly rubbing her belly. Her little baby had been kicking her for the last couple of minutes, and while uncomfortable, it was a welcome reminder of her little fairy fluttering around inside her. She had her last OBGYN appointment before starting the clock on her delivery tomorrow, and she tried to be happy about it.

Still no word from David, but the police have been working on trying to track him down. The last time they talked to her, they told her that he bought a ticket to the Czech Republic, and that's all they knew. She couldn't be of much help because when they asked who his employer was who sent him on the trip, they found out he wasn’t even working for them anymore and hadn't been for almost a year.

So all those business trips, late nights at the office, all bullshit.

Thalia bristled at the thought as she reached her car. Clearly, she didn't know David as well as she thought she did, and that was her fault. She should have asked more questions and been more insistent. Egg on her face clearly.

She started rummaging in her purse for her keys. Maybe it was because she just wasn’t thinking, or maybe it was the muddledness of her brain these last few months, but she didn't hear him approach her.

“Hello, love.”

Thaila whipped her head around and up to see a tall man standing behind her. He wore all black, a tight-fitted long-sleeved shirt, and tactical pants with boots. The lower half of his face was covered by a black face mask, but he wore a black cap pulled low, barely allowing her to see his dark brown eyes and blonde eyebrows. A heavy weight plummeted down her stomach as she pressed herself against her car.

“Um, hello. Can I help you with something?” Her keys were in her hand, slightly hidden behind her so that he wouldn’t know she had it. If he wanted her wallet or something, he could fucking have it. He just needed to back the hell up.

“….I’m lookin for someone,” he said, a bit of a Manchester accent bleeding through at the end of his sentence.

Thaila looked around to see if there was anyone who could help her, but this man was not allowing his presence to be ignored. He took a small step closer, and Thaila instinctively twisted her body a little to keep her baby safe from this man, her eyes still shifting around slightly to find a way out. His eyes followed her movements, but he didn't say anything.

“Oh well, I’m not sure I can help you. If you're meeting someone in the area, then I suggest you keep looking around. I have to get going to meet with my husband.”

The man in front of her let out a low chuckle, causing her to look back at him and gape at how close he had become. She could almost feel his body heat reach hers, his own body shifting close enough to almost cage her in without people noticing right away.

Nope, Fuck no, this has gone on long enough. She didn’t have a clue what this guy wanted, but now was not the time to do nothing.

Maybe he sensed or some shit that she was about to scream or cause some level of attention, as he moved quickly, using one arm to trap her, his hand on the hood of the car, the other quickly grabbed something from the back of his pants and pressed it to her side.

Thalia’s eyes widened when she felt it, looking down to see a black handgun pressed against her. Tears started to well in her eyes, and her breath started to pick up.

“Calm down. Stress isn’t good for the babe yer cookin. Keep quiet, an’ this will go away. Understand?”

Thalia tried to take some deep breaths, listening to this man's instructions, but it was so hard. It felt like the air in her lungs had fully left her body, like her heart and stomach were being twisted and squeezed.

“P-please, I can give you my wallet and the keys to the car. This doesn't have to go any further. I won't call the police, I swear.”

“Ain’t worried bout the cops, an neither should you.” He huffed, moving his hand from her hood and placing it over her shoulder as she steered her away from her car, her only quick getaway from this situation. The masked man shifted them so the gun he still had pointed to her was still on her but hidden in between them.

Her body felt like it was on autopilot, her feet moving before her mind could catch up.

“Tha’s right,” the man murmured close to her ear. “Nice an’ easy.”

They crossed the sidewalk together, his hand firm on her shoulder as he guided her forward. Anyone passing by would probably think they were just another couple walking together. No one could see the gun hidden between their bodies.

Thaila swallowed hard, trying to slow her breathing. Think. Think!

The boutique was only a few doors down.

Maybe she could run once they got closer. Maybe someone inside one of the other shops would see something was wrong.

But every time she even thought about moving too quickly, the pressure of the gun against her ribs increased slightly.

A very clear and silent warning for her to knock it off.

When they reached the door of her boutique, the man leaned down slightly.

“Keys.”

Her hand trembled as she pulled them forward. The metal jingled softly as she searched for the right one.

“Hurry.”

“I—I am,” she whispered, her heart beating so loudly she swore he could hear it.

It took two tries before the key slid into the lock. She pushed the door open and stumbled slightly as the man urged her forward.

“Inside.”

The moment they stepped through the door, he shoved it shut behind them.

The soft chime of the bell above the door echoed far too loudly in the quiet shop.

“W-what do you want?” Thaila demanded, her voice shaking despite her attempt to sound firm. She turned slightly toward him. “If this is about money, I can get it for you. I have cash in the safe in the back.”

The man didn’t answer.

Instead, he nudged her forward again, guiding her toward a small chair near the counter.

“Sit.”

“I told you, I can—”

“Sit. Down.”

That tone made her sit down immediately, her arms cradling her stomach protectively.

The man stepped back only a foot or two, keeping the gun trained on her the entire time. Then he reached into his pocket. For one horrible second, Thaila thought he was pulling out something worse. Another gun, maybe? A knife?

No, instead he pulled out a phone.

He unlocked it quickly and lifted it to his ear.

Her heart pounded so loudly she was certain he could hear it.

After only a moment, someone answered on the other end.

“Yeah,” the man said calmly. “It’s clear.”

Thaila’s stomach dropped.

“Come on in,” he continued, his gaze never leaving her. The gun remained steady in his hand. “I’ve got the missis under control.”

The call ended a second later.

Thaila could feel the air squeeze out of her lungs, and from the way she was breathing, she was desperate to try to get it back. The room felt like it was spinning, the walls closing in around her. This man was going to hurt her. Hurt her baby. He’s gonna kill them, isn't he?

“Breathe,” the man muttered. “You pass out, an’ we’re gonna have a problem.”

A heavy hand settled on her shoulder, as if trying to steady her. Thaila tried to smack it away, but unsurprisingly, her kidnapper was stronger. Her hand barely moved his before he tightened his grip.

“I already told you,” she rushed out, her voice shaking, words tumbling over each other. “There’s a safe in the back. The code is 60—40 right, 20 left. There’s at least ten grand in there. It’s yours. Just go. You don’t need your friends.”

The man said nothing and made no moves to remove his hand from her. He just looked at her with his hard brown eyes, like he was piercing her soul. This time, she gave her shoulder a hard jerk, and that made him let her go. He didn’t move out of her space though, just settling behind her chair. She couldn’t see the gun anymore but she knew it was still there.

“Please,” she hiccupped, turning her head slightly toward him. “Please don’t hurt us. I’ll give you anything you want. A-and I won’t call the police—”

The front door jingled, and her pleas locked in her throat. Thaila snapped her head to the sound and felt like she was having a panic attack all over again.

Three men walked into her shop. The first was a tall, handsome, brown-skinned man with a close-cropped haircut, brown eyes, and a stubble beard. He wore a long black coat and polished, expensive shoes. There was something composed about him that, if they were in any other situation, she might have even approached him when she was younger. The second man was white and shorter than the first, but broader, heavier in build. His mohawk caught her attention for a second longer than she would’ve liked—who even wore those anymore? He had on a bomber jacket, dark jeans, and worn work boots scuffed from use.

But the last man, he was the one who gave her the most pause. It was obvious he was in charge. The way he walked in said it before anything else did—calm and unbothered, like this was another day like any other. Like this wasn’t a kidnapping, possible shakedown, and hopefully not a murder.

A lit cigar rested between his fingers, smoke curling lazily into the air. He was white, with a muttonchop beard that blended into his hair. His long, dark brown coat wasn’t flashy like the first man’s, but it carried its own kind of weight. It reminded her of the more affluent customers who mull around in blue collar clothes while dropping off thousand dollar garments. His own boots were clean. No scuffs, and no marks.

His looks were honestly a bit disconcerting if it wasn't for the look in his eye. His blue eyes swept her shop almost lazily, but when he landed on her, all she could do was freeze.

“Any trouble?” he asked, taking a drag of his cigar. He wasn't directing his questions at her despite staring directly at her.

“No,” the masked man replied from behind her, his hand settling back onto her shoulder and making her flinch slightly. “She’s been cooperative.”

The man’s gaze lingered on Thaila for another long moment. Then, finally, he stepped closer.

“Good,” he said quietly.

“Can someone please just tell me what's going on?” Thalia desperately pleaded, her arms wrapping around her perusing belly to protect it.

“My name is John Price. What’s happening is,” the bearded man started, using his cigar to gesture at her. “Your bastard of a husband owes us money. So we are here to collect.”

“D-David isn’t here,” she stammered quickly. “H-he’s gone, I don’t know when he’ll be back—”

“The fecker left his pregnant missus all by her lonesome?” the mohawked man remarked with a crooked grin.

Thaila ignored him, though she still shot him a glare.

His grin only widened.

“How much did he owe?” she asked shakily.

“Well, it was two hundred thousand pounds,” he said casually, “but with interest, it’d be closer to five hundred thousand now.”

He tilted his head slightly toward the black man.

“When did the interest rate go up again, Garrick?”

The black man, who had to be this “Garrack”, lazily pulled out his phone from his pocket and clicked it to life.

“Three days ago, sir.”

Thalia blanched at the men in front of her. 500,00 pounds? They let that man borrow that much money?!

“You let him borrow that much money from you?” she burst out. “What the hell is wrong with you?!”

Her outburst must have startled them slightly as her fears of harm or death were slightly overtaken by the outrage of that incredibly poor financial decision. The man holding her shoulder gave it a warning squeeze but she didnt care.

The mohawked man let out a small whistle. “She got feckin balls on her, yellin at ya, Price.”

Price let out a small laugh of amusement at her, taking another drag of his cigar. “We didnt loan him the money, he stole it. And we want it back, trouble is we can't seem to find him.”

Thaila felt like she was going to throw up. That's why he left? Because he owed, no he stole, these jackasses money and didnt tell her?! Is that how he was able to afford their home, this shop, all the places they traveled to? Was everything about their lives a lie?

“I-I don’t know where he is,” she whispered. “And I don’t have that kind of money. David handled all the finances, I swear. I don’t know what to tell you.”

Her words clearly didnt do much for Price, for any of them as the mohawked scoffed while Gaz sucked his teeth. The masked man behind her didn't say or make a sound, but she could feel the heat of his gaze on the back of her neck. Price didnt say anything, just looked at her with disbelieving eyes.

“Well then were going to have a problem,” he said before walking towards her, the sound of his boot thumped loudly in her mind, before crouching down and resting on his heels. “I believe you that that sorry sod up an’ left ya in the lurch.”

His blue eyes hardened. “Ive been told that Im a reasonable man gentleman, but what I don't tolerate is thieves and liars, and either I get my money back or get a pound of flesh. Do you have my money?”

Thalia shook her head no, her eyes pleading at the older man, shrinking her body as much as she could to create any type of distance from him. A pound of flesh could mean anything and everything, and Thalia knew that no matter what, she was going to be hurt. Price sighed before flicking one hand lazily behind him.

“Soap. Gaz. Tear the place apart.”

Thalia's heart dropped as she helplessly watched as Gaz and “Soap” moved from their spots and started to destroy her boutique. Tables overturned, bolts of fabric crashing onto the floor. Soap pulled a handgun from his waistband and smashed the glass display cases with the grip, shattering them in violent bursts. Jewelry was scattered across the tiles. Gaz yanked dresses from mannequins and racks alike, tearing garments apart before tossing the ruined fabric aside like trash.

“Hold on, hold on,” She tried to stand up but was roughly forced back into her chair. The man behind her started to speak but she interrupted. “ I can get you the money!”

That stopped the men's destruction of her shop to look at her, their eyes drifting between her and Price.

“Is that so?”

Thalia nodded frantically, letting her words and pleas tumble out of her mouth. “Like I told this guy,” gesturing to the masked man, “there's money in my safe and register. I already told him the combination, so that's already 10 or 11,000 dollars in there. I-it's not much but it's a start. Please, I can get you your money, just give me some time to get it to you. I promise, you’ll have your money in full!”

The boutique went silent, everyone waiting for Price’s word on the matter. They had already destroyed her shop, and there really was nothing she could do if they chose to turn their violence and anger towards her and her body.

Price regarded her once more before he lifted his gaze to the man behind her. “Ghost, check the safe.”

“Ghost” just grunted before releasing her shoulder and stomped his way to the back. Even though that presence was gone, the imprint of his hand on her shoulder still made her wince and softly roll it to relieve the force he left.

It wasnt long before Ghost came back, and considering the raised eyebrow that Gaz gave him, it was safe to say they new she was telling the truth.

“Alright,” Price said, standing back up before dropping his cigar on the floor in front of her, crushing it with his boot. “As I said, I'm a gentleman, so I’ll give you the time you need to get me my money. But if you try to fuck with me or get the police involved, we will be back and won't stop at just wreakin your shop. Do we understand each other?”

Thaila let out a choked sob but nodded, shielding her prodigy belly tightly. They got their point across, and they left shortly after with the money from her safe and registar, leaving her to sit and sob in the wake of their destruction.

Sooooo, it comes to my attention that I should probably put in some rules for my works since the world is a wild place and people can be jerks

90% of my work is for everyone, but there will be warnings for explicit and eventually darker content, and minors should not read it. I'm not a cop, but if I find out a minor, you shall be blocked

If you are a bigot or a racist, kick rocks cus you're not gonna wreck my happy place

You don't have to like or read what I write. You don't like it, move on. I won't be mad, promise.

Heyooooooo! Glad I'm able to drop another chapter for you guys, woot woot. I hope you like this semi edited nonsense.

WC: 4705

The heavy thumps hitting the dirt behind them sent her running faster, her chest tightening as splinters scratched and stung her cheek. She scrambled over fallen logs and ducked under low branches, her leggings tearing as her backpack snagged on sharp limbs. She shoved leaves and brush out of her face, trying to stay low, trying to stay quiet.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Every part of her body hurt—her arms, her stomach—but she didn’t stop. The burn along the back of her leg throbbed with every step, but it was nothing compared to the fear flooding her veins. The roars, the screaming, the cracking of trees behind them—it all pushed her forward, faster, harder.

If they caught them, they were dead.

“Come on, we’re almost there! Just keep looking forward!”

Dionne tried to listen to May—she really did. But then she heard it. A screech that haunted every one of her dreams. Her head snapped back over her shoulder, tears blurring her vision—and she saw it.

The monster.

The one that followed her into sleep. The one that never left.

“DIONNIE!” it shrieked, voice warped and wrong. “You can’t run from me forever, my sweet girl!”

No—no, no, no, no—

The forest seemed to close in around her as she ran, branches knitting together overhead until the sky was nothing but thin, broken slivers of pale moonlight. They were almost there… right? May said it wasn’t far. May said they’d be safe.

But now it felt like that place didn’t exist at all.

Like, safety was just a story. Just a lie to lure her to her death.

May’s hand tightened around hers, dragging her forward. They ran a few more yards before May yanked her down behind a massive fallen trunk.

“Okay… okay,” May whispered, peeking just over the edge. “We didn’t lose them—but we’ve got some distance.”

Dionne barely heard her. Her fingers clutched desperately at the front of May’s shirt, her heart pounding so loud in her chest she swore it might burst straight out of her ribs. Her breathing came in broken gasps, her vision swimming with tears.

I’m going to die.

She’s going to catch me. She said she would.

I never should’ve come here.

I should’ve stayed in the hospital.

I should just stop running…

It’ll be quick. She said it would be quick, right?

I wanna go home.

I want my mama.

Maybe May sensed her spiral, because the older girl grabbed her shoulder to make Dionne face her. “Hey. Look at me.” Her voice was firm, steady. “You need to dry your eyes. They can smell fear, okay? So don’t let them. Just breathe. Just like I taught you.”

Her thumb moved in slow, grounding circles against Dionne’s shoulder.

“Breathe in… and out. We’re almost home free and your father will protect you.”

Dionne tried. Gods, she tried.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Her lungs hitched and constricted, but she forced the air in anyway before pushing it back out, again and again, chasing the rhythm May had drilled into her. For a moment, it actually worked.

Then another roar broke out ahead of them, and by how loud it was, it was safe to assume that the monsters that were coming for them were coming closer, looking for them.

A soft slink sound filled the area, and Dionne looked over at May, her eyes widening slightly in surprise at the shiny brown knife in her other hand. Before she could question her, May let go of her shoulder just to grip her right arm tightly, and quickly sliced into her palm.

“Hey–!” Dionne exclaimed, but her protests locked in her throat when she watched May quickly slide the side of the now bloody knife on both sides of her cheek, smearing red against her skin. She looked at May with scared, puzzled eyes, only to meet her own with stony determination.

“You need to listen to me,” May said, voice low and urgent as she peeked over the log again. “Do you see those lights?”

Dionne looked behind them, and there in the near distance were lights. The bright glow of yellow and orange filled Dionne’s chest with hope, hope that they might actually survive the night.

“Y-yes, I see them.”

“Good.” May’s grip tightened. “When I tell you, you run straight toward them. Don’t stop. Don’t look back. You find the building I told you about—remember what it looks like?”

Dionne nodded weakly.

“You go there. Immediately. You do not stop for anything. Do you understand me?”

Dionne looked at her with wide eyes. Why was she talking like that? Why did her words make her more scared than any of the monsters that hunted them did?

“Promise me, Dionne!”

“I-I pro-omise.” Dionne sputtered out, her voice hiccuping as she tried to get the words out.

May nodded at her, giving her a tight smile. “Good girl. Now go, run.”

Dionne hesitated for a second, prompting May to shove her roughly to her feet, pushing her to move. She scrambled into a run, her backpack thumping on her back. Her vision blurred but all she could to was wipe her eyes with her sleeves and keep on running.

"HEY! OVER HERE, YOU BIG UGLIES!" May screamed at the top of her lungs. "YOU'LL NEVER CATCH US!"

Dionne heard May’s taunts to their pursuers behind her, and the roars and snares that followed. She glanced over her shoulder, just long enough to see May disappear between the trees, still shouting, still waving her arms to draw every monster after her.

She was leading them away. Giving her a chance to get to safety.

Dionne is scared out of her mind, scared for May and wants her to be back with her. She sees the glow of the lights getting closer and closer, and soon she sees a large wooden and white stone archway with ivy wrapped around it.

This was the safety May told her about. She was almost there…..

“DIONNE!”

The sharp screech of her name made her stumble over her feet, crashing her to the ground. She felt a sharp pain in her ankle, but when she looked back to check her leg, she immediately regretted it as her monster, in all her fiery rage, lunged at her with her claws extended right at her.

Reaching for her.

“I finally found you, sweetheart.” She said, just as the claws descended to her face.

Dionne shot out of bed with a violent start, gripping the scarred side of her face while the other tangled itself in her blankets; her heart pounding so hard it was like it was trying to force its way out of her chest. Her eyes darted around the space, seeing no monster, no forest.

No. May.

All she could see was the familiar sights of her cabin: the rows of empty bunk beds lined against the walls, most still neatly made with untouched purple sheets. The cluttered floor littered with clothes, books, and various trinkets that she kept promising herself she’d organize “later.” The small stage tucked into the back corner still held the puppets she’d used the night before during storytime with the younger campers. The lavender couch near the window remained buried beneath unfolded laundry and the busted chestplate she really needed to return to the Hephaestus cabin before the next Capture the Flag game.

Lilac curtains drifted softly in the morning breeze spilling through the open window, carrying the scent of pine, strawberries, and distant campfire smoke.

Nothing was out of place, thankfully.

Still, her heart beat roughly in her chest and her fingertips traced the raised lines almost unconsciously, as if she expected to find fresh blood there instead of old memories. The remnants of that nightmare still danced in the corners of her mind. She hadn't dreamt of that night for a while now, and she couldn't help but be pissed off at the loss of control.

Breathe in. Breathe out. It was just a dream, just a dream.

She repeated those words over and over in her head as she willed her lungs to stop constricting, for her heart to slow the heck down. She cannot be having a nightmare-induced panic attack this early morning.

It took a minute or two, or maybe longer since there was no clock in the cabin, but she was able to calm herself down, allowing her hand to finally drop from her face as she flopped back on her bed.

She stared up at the ceiling, tracing the dark oak beams overhead and the ivy vines draped lazily across them.

This was the week she was getting shipped out. A part of her was honestly excited, wondering where she would be sent. Maybe she’d stay somewhere in the States—or maybe she’d end up overseas somewhere exciting, somewhere full of new foods, new stories, and strange places she could tell the younger campers about when she came back. The thought made her smile despite herself. New places meant new stories, and new stories meant new adventures to tell the younger campers whenever she came back. She wasn't exactly running out of material yet, but it never hurt to add a few more tales to the collection.

On the other hand, Dionne would be lying if she weren't confused as to why she was being sent in the first place. She understood that she qualified after completing her first quest and returning safely; she completed the training courses faster than most others in her age group. But she also understood that she had just barely made the cutoff to be considered for placement with any agency or group. Usually, Chrion only allowed the older kids to be placed.

And Chrion told her that the likelihood of her being placed in general would be low due to her….condition. So what changed, exactly? She was grateful, but she should probably ask him before she was supposed to leave.

Probably would be best if she caught Chiron later today, get specifics and stuff.

What time was she supposed to head out again? She still hadn't packed, so she should probably do that sooner rather than later.

A knock at her door snapped her out of her thoughts, tilting her head to the sound.

“Dionne, you up yet? You're going to be late for breakfast!”

Nightmare or semi-dissociative moments aside, there was no way she was going to be late for breakfast! With that sudden burst of determination, Dionne climbed out of bed and let her bare feet hit the smooth and cold floor.

“Ok, ok, I’m coming!” Dionne shouted as she quickly got dressed out of her jammies and into a hopefully clean camp shirt and shorts. At least it smelled clean and didn't have any notable blood or grass stains so that's a win in her books. Another rapid knock made her roll her eyes before she walked to her door and yanked it open.

In front of her was a shorter girl with jet black hair pulled up in a high ponytail. She was wearing her camp shirt with her “outside pants” on, which were literally just pajama bottoms with cute little birds and rainbows all over.

“最終 !” the girl at the doorway exclaimed in Cantonese, not even waiting before she walked right into her cabin. She looked around briefly with her hands on her hips. “Your room is a disaster.”

“No, Kiko, please,” Dionne deadpanned as she shut the door behind her. “Come on in. You know I love when you break into my room an’ judge me before nine in the morning.”

“Well, lucky for you, it’s actually 9:45,” Kiko shot back while bending down to pick something up off the floor. “So technically, I’m late to judge you.”

Dionne snorted softly and rolled her eyes as she slid her bonnet off, revealing the neat braids Everett from the Apollo cabin had redone for her before he left for Los Angeles.

Thank the gods for Everett.

A bunch of campers had already started leaving now that spring break was ending. Camp always got quieter around this time of year.

Kiko, meanwhile, had apparently already begun her daily ritual of trying to clean Dionne’s room against her will. The girl had a slightly terrifying obsession with keeping things “organized” and “tidy.” She claimed clutter was bad for the mind and soul.

Dionne personally thought Kiko just had OCD tendencies she refused to acknowledge.

Dionne allowed Kiko to continue cleaning her room as she finished her own routine, putting her braids in a loose bun before walking back to her bunk to grab her flannel.

“Do you know what they're serving today?” Dionne asked.

Kiko shrugged, folding what looked like the sixth shirt she’d found abandoned on the couch. “How would I know? I came straight here because I knew you’d sleep in.”

Dionne raised an eyebrow at her as she slid her flannel on, tying the oversized shirt in the middle. Really? The daughter of Hypnos is trying to lecture her on sleeping in?

Be so for real.

“Well, then let’s go,” Dionne said, looking through a small mirror to make sure there was no dried drool or crust on her face. “And stop folding my clothes. They’re just gonna end up back on the couch.”

Kiko huffed dramatically but dropped the shirt anyway before standing. “Whatever. You’re lucky cleaning your disaster of a cabin calms me down.” Dionne gave her a puzzled look, but Kiko just waved her off and headed for the door.

Dionne followed behind, braving the bright, wonderfully shining sun as she took in the sights and sounds of the waking camp. It was still early enough that it wasn't too busy in the cabin area, and everyone was still getting ready for the day.

With a deep breath, she and Kiko made their way to the dining pavilion in the hunt for breakfast.

~*~

The dining pavilion was already bursting with life by the time Dionne and Kiko arrived.

Campers crowded every table, voices overlapping into one enormous wall of chatter that echoed beneath the open wooden rafters. Some shouted greetings across the pavilion while others argued animatedly over upcoming Capture the Flag strategies, quest stories, or who had cheated during sword practice the day before. Somewhere near the Apollo table someone had started singing, only to be immediately booed by half the Hermes cabin.

The buffet line stretched nearly to the entrance. Bless the poor nymphs' hearts and souls as they worked tirelessly behind the serving counter, moving with practiced efficiency as they filled plates faster than hungry demigods could empty them.

If there was one thing Dionne could always count on, it was that breakfast was absolute chaos.

And honestly… She absolutely loved it.

As they passed by the buffet line, Dionne caught a few looks directed at her. Some smiles and waves, ones that she returned, and others that looked at her with twisted disdain, envy, or annoyance.

Granted, she was used to getting looks thrown her way, but for these ones in particular, she had a pretty good idea why she was getting them. News traveled fast around camp, and the fact that she’d gotten placed despite her age definitely hadn’t gone unnoticed. But she just ignored them as her desire for food in her belly outweighed any petty snark she could have dished out.

When they finally got through the buffet line and piled her tray with waffles drenched in strawberry syrup, scrambled eggs, fresh fruit, and entirely too much bacon, Dionne peeled away from the line and headed toward one of the bronze braziers.

She pinched off the corner of a waffle.

"Here you go, old man. Hope you like waffles," she murmured as she watched the piece of food burn up in the flames. With that daily sacrifice sent on its way did she start to make her way to her table.

The table belonging to her father's cabin stood a little apart from the others, draped with a rich purple cloth trimmed in gold. Two overflowing cornucopias decorated the center, spilling grapes, figs, pomegranates, pears, and fresh berries across polished wood.

Nothing looked out of place, save for the fact that the table was completely empty. Normally there would be a small handful of saytrs and nymphs littering the benches, but not today, clearly. Granted, most of the saytrs were probably off escorting other demigods and the nymphs must be busying themselves with the season changes and farm production.

“That reminds me,” Dionne thought as she settled in her seat. “What are they going to do about my jobs at the orchard? The avocado trees have been feeling a bit sick lately, and Chloe already had her hands full with the new Cabin 4 kids.”

Dionne let her mind drift, running through ideas and lists to go over with the head counselor, shoving food into her mouth, her eyes drifting around the dining pavilion, watching the others around her. As she suspected, even with all the noise, camp definitely felt and looked emptier than usual. Most of the seasonal campers had already gone home now that schools were starting back up. The few remaining kids were probably leaving within the next couple of days, but most of them, like her, were year-round campers.

A thunk of a tray startled her, snapping her out of her head, and when she looked up, she saw Kiko sliding into the bench, digging in before she even sat down.

“Ummmm, why are you over here an’ not at your table?” Dionne asked, popping a grape in her mouth. Technically, campers weren’t supposed to sit at other gods’ tables unless invited by someone at said table (a rule that doesn't really exist now, but it's still courtesy, as Chrioin always reminded them), but the sour look on her friend's face made her keep that little reminder to herself.

Kiko made a face at her as she started stabbing at her food. “I cannot sit by him, not today.”

Dionne’s eyes narrowed in confusion as she looked over Kiko’s shoulder to look at the Hypnos table.

There, sitting at the table surrounded by a bunch of other boys and a few girls, was Kiko’s twin brother, Kino. If they wore the same clothes and had the same hair length, they would look completely identical. But while Kiko enjoyed her long hair, Kino cut his short enough to almost look like a buzz cut. Kino was laughing with the other boys, but Dionne caught him looking over at them a few times.

“What did he do to piss you off this time?” Dionne asked half jokingly, as she started to rip up her syrup drenched waffle.

Kiko let out a very humorless laugh. “Hunter and Seth dared him to give nightmares to random cabins, and like the idiot that he is, he freaking did it!”

Kiko started ranting in rapid fire Cantonese about the rest of her annoyance, not noticing that Dionne had dropped her waffle back onto her plate in shock and anger.

So it was Kino’s fault that she had that nightmare. Dionne looked back at him with a snarl on her face before clocking that other kids were giving him either the same or even nastier looks.

To his small credit, he looks slightly ashamed at the looks he was getting, but that credit pretty much washed away when Seth gave him a solid pat on his back, and Kino just smiled up at him.

“Is that so?” Dionne muttered darkly.

“Ugh, he’s so frustrating!” Kiko exclaimed, nearly slamming her fork down. “Chiron grounded him and put him on bathroom duty for a week after he found out, but still! That’s not what our powers are supposed to be used for! But he thinks Hunter and Seth are sooo cool, so he just goes along with whatever they say!”

Dionne scoffed as she roughly bit into one of her waffle pieces. The fact that Hunter and Seth were the masterminds of this little prank did surprise her in the slightest. They may have been claimed by Hermes and Ares, respectively, if Eris herself had come down and claimed those two idiots as her children; Dionne would have responded with “Yeah, and water's wet.”

They always pull crap like this, and while they do get punished for it, once Chrion's back is turned, they’re right back at it again, tricking some other poor kid to pull another prank.

Nothing to the point of getting suspended or even exiled, gods forbid, but they were still a pain in the ass.

“Oh gods,” Kiko suddenly gasped, leaning in close. “Did he get you too?”

“Nah, slept like a baby.” She lied as she continued to eat. No way was she going to admit that she had nightmares last night that led to a halfway panic attack. No need to incur Kiko’s anger any further when she already looks like she was going to strangle her brother, in her opinion.

“And Kino got punished at the end of the day,” Dionne continued with reason as she continued to eat, really focusing on keeping her cool. “And their attention on him won’t last. They’ll find another sucker to trick and this will be old news.”

Kiko crossed her arms at Dionne’s words, making the latter sigh. She was always a stubborn one but Dionne knew that this won't last, that the twins will probably be sitting next to each other again before the end of the day.

Is this what all siblings are like? She was an only child as far as she knows, at least from her mom. Sure, people fight and make up, but the way these two get into fights and how fast they make up always made her wonder if that's what it's like to have a sibling.

Maybe it's a twin thing.

“Enough about him,” Kiko said, refocusing on her food more gently. “Do you know where you're getting placed?”

Dionne smiled faintly as she finished off the last of her waffle. “Nope. No clue. I think I leave at the end of the week, though? I can’t really remember.”

Kiko stared at her in horror.

“And you haven’t packed?!” she whisper-yelled. “Your cabin is a disaster; you could be leaving for who-knows-where, literally could be today mind you, and you haven’t packed?!”

Dionne rolled her eyes dramatically.

"Man, I wish I could get placed," Kiko sighed dreamily, resting her chin in one hand. "Getting to see brand-new places, fight monsters… maybe I'd even get to visit my family in Osaka one day. I've always wanted to go."

“Have you finished your requirements yet?” Dionne asked.

Kiko immediately deflated. "No," she admitted with a sigh. "Not even close. I'm not good with weapons like you or the Ares kids are." She perked up a little, a hopeful smile returning to her face. "But maybe if I impress Chiron enough this summer, I'll qualify! Maybe even get picked for a quest. You never know!"

Dionne smiled softly at her enthusiasm. The conversation drifted into easy speculation after that. They threw around theories about where Dionne might be stationed, Kiko insisting she'd probably end up somewhere exciting while Dionne joked she'd somehow get sent to the middle of nowhere. Before long they were debating what kinds of souvenirs Dionne should bring back, with Kiko making an increasingly dramatic list of requests.

Around them, the dining pavilion slowly began to thin out. Campers carried their trays to the wash station before heading toward morning activities, conversations fading as tables emptied one by one.

She’ll miss this when she leaves. She knows (more like hopes) she’ll be back from wherever she was heading, but it doesn't change the fact that she was leaving her friend and the safety of camp to go help people she didn't know.

The curse of being a hero, right?

The rhythmic clop of hooves against the pavilion's stone floor pulled Dionne from her thoughts and slowly killed the two girls’ conversation. And based on how loud it was getting with each step, it was safe to assume that Chiron was coming in her direction.

“Good morning, Mr. Chiron!” Kiko said happily. Dionne tilted her head back, spotting the older centaur standing behind them with his usual kind smile.

“Good morning, Ms. Shizuka,” Chiron said warmly. "Though, unless my memory has failed me this morning, I do believe the table dedicated to Hypnos is not this one."

Kiko’s smile faltered slightly. “Yeah… I know. I just didn’t want Dee sitting by herself.”

“And I invited her,” Dionne added, even though that also was a lie. A little white one, but its not like it will actually hurt anyone.

"I understand, and you are a good friend," he said gently. "But we must remember to respect the gods in all things, even something as simple as honoring them by sitting at their designated tables."

Kiko nodded before shooting Dionne an apologetic smile, rising out of her spot with her tray and heading back to her father's table. Once they were alone, Chiron turned his attention to Dionne, who was quietly eating a piece of fruit.

“Have you packed for your placement yet?”

Dionne’s silence answered for her.

Chiron sighed the sigh of a man who dealt with teenagers far too often.

“I see,” he murmured. “Then I suggest you finish breakfast and begin packing soon. You leave Thursday, and it would be rather impolite to keep your escorts waiting.”

Dionne nodded absently, picking at a piece of fruit before finally voicing the question sitting in her chest.

“Where am I going?”

“You’ll primarily be stationed overseas,” Chiron explained. “The United Kingdom, specifically. There has been a notable increase in monster sightings and attacks there recently. You’ll assist in dispatching them.”

A small smile tugged at his face.

“I trust that won’t be too dull for you.”

Dionne let out a small laugh. So, she was going overseas? It should be fun, but now that she'd really heard it out loud, a part of her was kinda sad and a little nervous about leaving the country. The farthest she had ever been was to Mexico, and that was for one of the camp’s field trips with supervision and emergency satyrs everywhere.

"It won't be forever," Chiron said gently, noticing the subtle change in her expression. "The original request was for an indefinite placement, but negotiations ultimately settled on six to eight months. You should be back before the end of the year."

"And before you ask," he continued with a knowing smile, "your responsibilities around camp have already been divided among the other year-round campers."

Dionne nodded along to his words. Makes sense that the old centaur would have already had a plan for when she was gone. But considering how long she was supposed to be gone, that…. was a lot less time than she expected. Normally, placements last for like a year or two, not half that time.

“Um, ok. Is my father seeing me off?”

“We can discuss the details further once you’ve finished and arrived at the Big House.” He smiled faintly, ignoring her previous question.

Guess that’s a no then. So either he’s still at Olympus for the Spring Equinox or he's enjoying that bit of freedom he has before trudging back here.

“Though I’d recommend bringing warm clothes. I hear it rains quite often there.” He finished before stepping away, though he paused long enough to offer one final comment.

“This is a great honor, Dionne. For both you and your father. You will make him very proud.”

Then he turned and continued through the pavilion, greeting other campers as he went.

He wasn't wrong; it was an honor that not many kids got to experience. She was going out and going to be a hero, just like she was supposed to be.

So she ignored the uncomfortable knot forming in her stomach as she stood and cleaned up her tray.

She could save her other questions for later. Right now, she had clothes to pack and make sure she got her weapon back from the armory shed.

@twdhtgawm

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This is not a spoiler post for those who have not seen TADC, but also it’s literally been out for a while so……

Ok, now that The Amazing Digital Circus is over, I feel like I can share this now…..

If the 141 got caught up in the circus, why do I feel like Ghost would low-key be the last one to abstract?

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve seen, and read plenty of fic where ghost basically is either suicidal or has attempted to kill himself. But I don’t know, I just feel like for a guy who has in and out of canon dealt with the most heinous bullshit in his life, I just don’t see him abstracting like day, one or anything. Low-key, I feel like he would be like Kinger.

Now Soap or Price on the other hand, I feel like they will be way more closer to abstracting than anybody else. Like, for Price, him being such a soldier and being in charge all the time, only to have to relent any in all real control to fucking Caine would rock his shit and I just don’t think he’d be able to handle all that.

Soap would probably last longer, but I feel like it would end up in a Jax and Ribbit type of deal, unfortunately.

I think Gaz would do OK, since he seems like the most emotional intelligent out of all of them. He would definitely be a Ragatha tho, especially if Price abstracted.

Whoever made the first alarm clock needs to be taken out back and shot for not only creating it but also for making people dependent on the damn thing. Only a sick and twisted person would make something so loud and hellish, which was meant to wake people up, could create such a thing. And the people who need them to actually wake and get on with they day needs to check in for a lobotomy because fuck that.

And yet, here she was, waking up to the sweet and soul sucking sounds of what was clearly a rejected sound of a car alarm going off on her bedside table. Everything within her wanted to just push the Satan sound machine off the small table and deal with getting another one later, but seeing as that would be the fifth one she broke in the last three months, she settled for just pressing the top button as quickly as possible. Groaning and mourning the loss of her much needed and beloved sleep, she checked the two most important things she could ever look at in the morning: what the fucking time was and the baby moniter.

Unfortunately, the time showed her that it was 5:30 in the morning. God damn it, the sun ain't even up yet, especially in the winter and here she is, up and pissed. On the bright side, the devil box that she will forever regret buying didn’t wake up Emmy somehow, so clearly there is a God and he can still perform miracles. Her precious little gremlin had been going through a bit of sleep regression as of late and has been taking it out of her poor mama. That night alone she had to do her midnight feeds, a few rocks and songs, a predictable blowout, and an opera worthy dramatic cry over being put down in her crib like she was going to jail before she soothed herself to sleep.

Seeing as there was no way that she could go back to sleep, and while the idea of just laying in bed and staring at the ceiling in darkness to contemplate life and its meanings was very compelling, her little gremlin will be waking soon and be demanding her morning bottle like its drugs and she jonesing, which in a way it was.

Her phone buzzed three times next to her, drawing her eyes to its harsh glow. There was only one person who would text her this early and this many times.

The wicked witch of Bristol, or if she would go by her legal name, Bethany Wilson. Technically, she is Emmy grandmother but it would be a frigid day in hell before she gets called that by her. She already knows what the texts would entail: When can I see my granddaughter? Come and stay with me in London? I knew my son shouldn't have boarded up with a slut like you! I have rights as a grandmother! If you don’t let me see her, I will have you deported! And so on and so forth. Honestly, she needs a damn Nobel Prize for dealing with that hell spawn of a woman.

Since there’s no time like the present, and she would rather eat a bucket of nails dipped in mayo than answer any of those texts, she rolled out of bed with strength that she didn't believe she had to get her morning routine done before making her way to the kitchen to warm up the breast milk she prepped the night before. Luckily she was able to get away with brushing her teeth, taking a very quick shower, and unwrapping her hair before her mission to get the bottle ready.

Emmy must have been a sleeper agent in another life, because the minute the bottle warmer “dinged”, her little wail started up in their room. Not loud enough to be an angry shriek that she was very much capable of but enough to say “Hey, I’m up and will make both our mornings hell if you don't come get me right now.”

So she drudged herself out of the kitchen to her room, peaking in through the already cracked door to see her baby lifting her head at the offending light pouring in from the rest of the house and intruder that she would soon call “mama”. There were small unshed tears in Emmy’s eyes when she walked in, pulling the blinds up a bit to het in some natural light.

“Good morning, my little fairy. Sorry for the wait but I cant make a bottle warm up any faster than the settings and father time allow.”

That didn't seem to pacete her little girl, giving her a look that is nothing but attitude, but it was nothing a few cuddles, kisses, and the gentle lip chewing of her chubby cheeks wont fix.

She carried her little girl to the kitchen to grab the warmed bottle, bouncing her baby in her arms as she checked the temp on her arm. It was cool enough to give her luckily, and when she brought the bottle to Emmy’s lips, the baby sucked it down greedily and quickly, her eyes looking at her with the clear implications that screamed “what took so long, you jerk.”

Don’t look at me like that, it makes me feel like a bad mama.

As Emmy drank, mama walked around with her in the small space, listing off the things that needed to be done before work.

After her bottle, Emmy will need a bath, a fresh diaper and clothes. The diaper bag needs to be restocked…

Her thoughts were interrupted by Emmy’s whine, signalling that she was done eating. Looking at her baby apologetically, she took the empty bottle, placing it in the sink before starting to burp Emmy before making her way to the bathroom to get Emmy ready for the day.

The water filled up her little baby tub when Emmy burped, and once the was no sign of spit up on her, in went the baby in the tub, scrubbed clean and with lots bubbles grabbed at. Once she was all clean and her ever fast growing hair was oiled up, quickly combed, and dressed in the cutest cherry dress onesie, her sweet baby was ready to go.

Once that gauntlet was finished, she put Emmy in her baby swing before getting herself dressed for work before quickly running though her mental checklist. It took only a few minutes and luckily Emmy was more than happy to chill in her baby swing, but the diaper baby was restocked, a semi pathetic lunch was packed, and off they went out the door into the cold Yorkshire air.

“Good morning Thaila! Heard little Emmy through the window last night, you need me to bring over some night balms for her? Worked wonders for my young ones once upon a time.”

Thalia waved at Ms. Henderson, a sweet old widow who lived next door and was currently weeding her small little garden outside her home. Technically, her son owns the flat she was in but Ms. Henderson’s son was at uni for like the fourth time and took pity on her and has been renting it to her at a cheap price. It was a steal, honestly, considering how much she was paying for the 1 bedroom flat. Plus the old woman’s sweet and always offers to babysit when Thailia was at work but the old woman was already kind enough to give them a roof over their head, and didn't want to take advantage and grow habits that should never see the light of day.

“Good morning, Ms. Henderson. Your cabbages are looking nice. And thank you but

“Alright dear, but you should try lavender. Its a natural calming. I have extra, Ill bring some over.”

Thalia smiled at the woman as she adjusted Emmy in her arms, the baby girl content with a full belly and the warmth of her baby coat against the cold, English air. For some reason, Emmy just loves the cold to a degree, falling asleep much easier with the fan on and her sleepsuit on tight. A true English child if she had ever seen one.

“Of course, thank you, Ms. Henderson.” She said, making it to her car. It was a piece of crap that looks like its on its last leg but still runs just fine. She straps in Emmy, making sure she’s secure before closing the door.

“Alright, my little fairy. Let’s head to work.”

__________

“Thank you for coming in! Your order should be ready by next week.” Thalia called out to the gentleman who dropped off his suit. It needed alterations on the cuffs and waistline for a wedding happening in three weeks.

Business has been steady lately, thank god. It was wedding season and all of a sudden people are remembering that the dresses and suits they bought months ago dont fit them as well as they used too. Honestly, she was almost drowning in orders of dress alterations, custom dresses and creations, and the slightly surprising uptick at homemade stuffed animals that she started on a whim.

Well, more like Emmy enjoyed nomming on the patchwork turtle she made her with some extra fabric and a customer saw it and asked if she sold more. Thus, a small army of custom stuffed animals now resides in a corner of her glass window of her shop.

“I swear, that man was here for more than just the fixin of his cuffs.”

Thalia rolled her eyes at the comment, looking at the older women who made it. Ms. Lee was a thin, greying old woman whos been in the sewing game for longer then most on scene, and it was a blessing that she was able to scoop her up. They met when they were both commissioned to work on a theater show and hit it off. Ms. Lee was a traveling tailor that was on the verge of retirement when she convinced her to set up in her shop. She really needed the help and expanding on the service and expertise that Ms. Lee brought was a lifesaver.

“Ms. Lee, you say that about every single man that walks through those doors. Pretty sure that was the father of the groom. If anything, he’s a man for you, not me.”

Ms. Lee scoffed as she entered further from the back, slightly bouncing Emmy in her arms.

God did Ms. Lee loves Emmy. Pretty sure that was a good selling point for her. She had practically been with them since she was born and all but self imposed god grandmother status, as if she didnt have a gaggle of adult children and grandchildren her damn self. Sure, most of them were still back in her home country, grandchildren and adult children that she visits fairly often, and yet she acts like she has no family.

“Well, you never know. The right man could walk right through those doors. Hell, any man would be better than that sorry excuse of an ex husband.”

That made Thalia hold back in her deeply needed sigh, choosing to move on from that comment. As much as she loved the old woman, she knew way too much of her business and was a tad bit too comfortable talking about it.

Emmy wiggled in her arm a little before letting out a sigh, a clear sign that she was getting tired. There was a small set up in the backroom with a crib and play pen she thrifted and a few supplies to keep Emmy happy, safe and content. There had been far to many nights were Thalia pulled an all nighter and Emmy soundly sleeping to the hull of her sewing machine.

Speaking of sewing machines, there was a skirt that needed to be fixed and was set to be picked up either later today or early tomorrow.

Ms. Lee handed Emmy off to her, heading back to her own station and projects while Thailia took them both to the backroom. The room itself looked as if a small fabric based tornado had hit this room and this room alone. Something about fabrics, stencils, and materials placed in a very chaotic yet organised mess always sparked creatively when she was in the mood to create something. Emmy’s little area was always tidy though, seeing as her little fairy was already a chaos incarnate most days.

Once the quick patdown that lulled Emmy to sleep was successful completed, Thalia settled behind her sewing machine, starting it up and fixing the tear on a skirt. Normally she preferred to sew by hand but seeing that she had so much to do before the day was done, she had to sacrifice a little.

The hum of the machine filled the space, giving her a sense of calm familiarity that always put her at ease as she worked, when the also familiar chime of the door reached her ears. She heard Ms. Lee move from her station, so whoever just came in would be helped well enough.

Turns out customers tend to like it if a person greeting them is a little old lady sometimes.

Thalia heard muffled talking as she continued with her project, occasionally looking over to see if Emmy was still sleeping. Thankfully she was, allowing her to stay in her creative zone. She was so in the zone that she didnt realize that Ms. Lee had knocked and popped her head in until she cleared her throat.

“Oh, sorry!” Thalia said, startled, quickly shutting the machine off. “Didnt hear you come in. Is everything alright?”

“I figured, dear. I could see it in your face.” Ms. Lee said with a laugh, leaning against the doorframe with a hand on her hip. “Your regulars are here. The handsome, young ones. Said their here for a pick up and fitting.”

Handsome young ones? Seeing as Ms. Lee is basically making it her mission to set her up with a man and basically says that about almost every man around her age, her saying that its regulars didn't narrow it down. Its honestly surprising how many men in the UK get their clothes tailored or hemmed.

“Which regulars? You say that about many of our customers.” Thalia joked.

“Yes! Smooth brown skin and the prettiest eyes. And the other one with the strange hair. Don't know why any man would wear hair like his but it works, with that rugged physique. Oof, what I would give to take a check under his suit, make sure he’s properly fitted?”

While Ms. Lee rambled on and on, switching from her native tongue and english, Thalia’s stomach dropped all the way to the floor, the smile previously on her face dropping as well. She knew exactly who Ms. Lee was talking to, and wished it was literally anybody else.

Kyle Garrack and Johnny MacTavish. Or Gaz and Soap based on what they call each other sometimes.

God damnit.

Why were they here? And today of all days?

She looked at the calendar on the wall, squinting to see if her mind really was just escaping her. This is a busy season for her but still.

The 12th was circled in big red marker so that she wouldn’t forget. It was the 10th. They were early by two days. What the hell?

With a very heavy, very audible sigh, Thalia plastered a practiced smile on her face. “Oh, those regulars. Yes, although they are early for their pick up.”

Ms. Lee ended her ramblings and followed her eyes to what Thailia was looking at. “Oh,, I see. I can let them know–.”

“No!”

Ms. Lee looked startled by Thalia’s outburst, and honestly so was she. But there was no way she was going to drag Ms. Lee into her problems. Especially the problems that come in the form of those two men.

Thalia took a deep breath before rising from her chair, smoothing out her skirt. “Sorry. I mean that its fine. Their order is ready, I just wasn’t expecting them so soon. If you dont mind, could you stay here with Emmy? I won’t take long.”

Ms. Lee looked at her with a motherly look of pity, the previous shock evaporating from her features.

“Of course dear. You know I never mind watching her.” Ms. Lee gave her a good long look as Thalia moved from her station, giving Emmys sleeping face another look before making her way to the door.

“Right, well thank you anyways.”

Thalia left the comfortable safety of her backroom as she made her way to the front of the store. She saw them immediately, and so did they.

Kyle smiled his pearly whites at her as he stepped further in her shop, brown eyes met her own, while Johnny was seemingly perusing the racks of suits, flashing her a quick smile that reminded her of a shark swimming near blood. Both men were dressed interestingly for this type of weather, Kyle with his overcoat that she knows she’s seen in magazines while Johnny was sporting a seemingly barely about to fit bomber jacket over his plain shirt.

“Hello love. Just doing a pick up for today. I’m sure you have what we ordered this month?” Kyle said it with a friendly tone, a smile still on his face but eyes narrowed in a way that screamed “You know why we’re here and we ain’t leaving till we get it.”

God she wanted to sock him in the face.

“Oi! Need a fittin too. ‘Parently I need “proper suits” for a meetin, according to this fucker.”

Kyle rolled his eyes at Johnny’s gripping, giving his companion a sideways glance.

“Yes, MacTavish, you do need a proper suit. We’ve been over this several times, and the others agree so sod off about it.”

Thalia gave him a tight, practiced smile. “Well, your order is ready. However, you need an appointment to get a fitting. I can put you on the books, but unfortunately, I don't have any availability for the day.”

Gaz licked his teeth while Johnny just rolled his eye, still with that damn smile on his face.

“Come on lass. Surely you could squeeze me in. Ya leavin me in a bind. Price is gonna have me head if I dont come back spiffy. Ya wouldn’t do that to my pretty face, would ya?“

He made his claim with a smile and a lean over her counter that clearly would work on many others, probably got him things too. But Thalia was by no means impressed or dazzled by his motions.

Instead, she unlocked her register drawer, pulling out the thick envelop they were here for and plopped in on the counter. The way Johnny’s smile drooped a bit felt like a very small win.

“Its all there. And before you ask, no, I have not seen, heard or caught a whiff of David. And if I do, you will be the first person I call, after I ring his fucking neck of course.”

The two men shared a look, having a whole silent conversation with each other.

“Caught you on a bad day, did we? Any customers we need to have a talkin to?” Kyle asked, sliding the envelope to himself in order to count, chuckling a little at Johnny huffing at his failed attempt.

Fuck them, the money is in there like it always is.

“No. The only customers I’m having an issue with is you. You want a fitting or tailoring, make an actual appointment. If there is nothing else then good day.” Probably shouldn’t say that to men that she knows are very dangerous but honestly, she was a bit too tired to care.

Kyle and Johnny chuckled at her, as if she said something funny. Once Kyle finished counting, he handed off the money to his friend, taking his own peak inside before siding the envelope into his jacket.

“Preciate this, sweetheart. You’re always good to us, and Price will appreciate your diligence. We’ll see you next month.”

Kyle gave her a wink before turning around and heading out the door. Johnny stayed behind, lingering for a second before following Kyle out.

The minute the front door clicked closed, Thaila finally felt like she could actually breathe. SHe hated every time that they visited. It was usually Kyle and Johnny, never Price, but on the rare occasions, much to her own hatred and discomfort, did the duo switch up on her and bring him along with them. The silent, faced covered wall that is Ghost. She didn't know his name, and the others only ever called or referred to him as “Ghost”, but that was enough for her. She didn't want to know his name or ever be in his presence again.

No after what he did, how she almost lost Emmy because of him.

A small wail snapped her out of her spiralling. Seems like Emmy woke up from her nap, most likely hungry too.

She couldn’t focus on those assholes, she had other things to worry about. Theres orders and commissions that needed to be done and she had to take care of her family. The faster she gets their money, the faster theory will leave her the fuck alone.

With that in her mind, Thaila made her way back to the backroom, a genuine smile on her face as she opened the door and saw the only thing that really mattered to her was wiggling her little arms and legs in Ms. Lee’s arms, holding back the obviously coming cry.

“Seems she missed her Ah Ma.” Ms. Lee said, slightly bouncing her. It was no use though, once Emmy saw her, the water works started.

Thalia reached out to take Emmy form Ms. Lee, holding her close. She could tell Emmy was hungry, so she moved to one of her armchairs.

“Well? Did I not tell you those men were handsome? And I saw no ring on the shorter ones finger. He seems like a fine fellow.”

Thalia couldn’t stop her eyes from rolling as she got comfortable in her seat, pulling up her shirt and guide Emmy to latch onto her. She sighed when she felt Emmy start to feed herself, leaning back and staring at the ceiling.

“I can promise you, Ms. Lee. There is no way I will ever attach myself to either of those men. Im fine where I am for now.”

Ms. Lee tutted at her as she made her leave from the room, giving the young mother privacy. “You never know if you close your heart so tightly, Qīn'ài de.”

She said this over her shoulder before leaving the room and closing the door. Once Thalia and Emmy were alone, she finally felt like she could breathe. She loathed every time they showed up, always with their fake smiles and condescending presence, shattering any and all deluded peace she creates for herself in the space when they leave her be.

“$100,000 down, $50,000 left. We can make that, no problem.” She said to her baby, well, more accurately to herself and the heavens above.

Confidence can be a fickle thing sometimes. Blends way too quickly with delusion.

Thalia closed her eyes, trying to force herself to relax as her little fairy ate. She read that adding stress can cause blocks to her ducts and she really can afford that. So she tried to think of what her next tasks would be: a dress that needs to be finished, the skirts needs a few more stitches, needs to check the back order of materials, restock the–

A ding from her phone snapped her out of her mental check list, forcing her eyes open. She looked to see her phone still on the sewing table, the screen glowing bright.

With a small groan, Thalia carefully stood up, care to move without disturbing Emmy too much. She crossed the room and checked her phone to see what was sent to her–and the moment she did, her heart dropped for what felt like the third time today.

“Put me down for a fitting next week Tuesday. 3pm, close early.”

ALRIGHTY! Guess who didnt give up and actually finished her rewrite of the first chapter of her nonsense!

Yeah, this kicked my ass, but I didnt give up, and now it's actually something I'm not completely embarrassed myself. So without further ado, here are my ramblings.

Again, this is a baby inspired by Tumblr creator, bramblebunnie, so go check them out because their works are super good!

In all of Price's years of service, for bleeding, getting shot at, bombed, whatever for his country and the greater good,  this was by far the most bullshit briefing he had ever sat in. His fingers tapped on the table as he looked at the picture that was paused on the TV monitor in the shitty briefing room he and his men were crammed into.

“You can't be fucking serious, Laswell.”

Gaz’s voice cut through the silence, sharp with disbelief. Price didn’t look at him, but he didn’t need to. He could picture the expression perfectly—brows drawn tight, jaw set, that simmering frustration barely contained behind the discipline he worked so hard to maintain. The younger Sergeant wasn’t wrong—but Price had known Laswell a long time, and he knew the woman was very fucking serious.

Laswell only shot him a blank look, leaning back slightly in her chair as she regarded them, her hand resting on a stack of folders. “Yes, I am serious, Sergeant. I understand that this is unorthodox, believe me, but this program goes higher than me, and so is this placement.”

“But ya have ta know this isn’t ginna work, Laswell,” Soap argued, his hair slightly tussled from running his hand through it over and over again. “We don’t need a placement.”

Laswell cocked an eyebrow at him. “You very much do, MacTavish. Too many squads have either disappeared or been wiped out entirely. This team is far too valuable to lose. This is a precaution, so this is for the best.”

Gaz scoffed at her while Soap rubbed one hand down his face in obvious frustration. Ghost was the only one who didn't say anything, but Price could tell that he wasn't happy with the news either.

The “placement” they were being forced to endure and accept was actual fucking bullshit, and the reason they needed a “placement” was also bullshit.

Turns out, Gods and Monsters were real. And not the monsters that children believe live under their beds or in their closets. No, monsters as in monsters of myth: dragons, giants, fire and poison-breathing snakes, and so many more that were just believed to exist only in stores and books. But no, they are real and have apparently been around since the dawn of time; they just couldn't see them. 

The same goes for the Gods. That was a fun tidbit of knowledge that rocked Soap to his core. Greek, Roman, Egyptian, Mayan, Norse—it didn’t matter what mythology you looked at, they were all real. From what little intelligence had been scraped together, the gods weren’t really unified. Different pantheons kept to themselves, some hostile, some indifferent, some… cooperative. It was messy. Political. Old grudges, ancient wars, and power struggles that made human conflict, the wars they fought and bled for look small. 

And what's even more annoying was the fact that at some point, we don't know when or where or even why, their petty squabbles and workings dragged the rest of humanity into the middle of it, and the monsters that were just as hidden from us were popping out of their hiding places. 

The vast majority of the world doesn't know about these monsters and Gods, but they still suffered the same when cities started getting attacked, destroying buildings and leaving behind destruction and bodies in their wakes. Conventional forces were left confused and pushed to the limits, and the attacks and bodies kept piling up. 

Entire units had been deployed, and entire units had been lost. Weapons didn’t kill the creatures—half the time, they didn’t even slow them down. If anything, artillery only seemed to agitate them further, sending them into frenzies that made things worse.

Many brave men and women were lost because of these attacks. 

That was, until a deal was struck between world leaders and the Gods, as insane as that sounds. The agreement was simple on paper, a quid pro quo: their heroes would kill the monsters that attacked them out in the field, and, in turn, they would remain hidden from the rest of the world, the monsters, and other people who might harm or hunt them for their own gain. Turns out monsters hate the smell of smoke and gunpowder, which the military apparently tends to be smothered in, which makes it a perfect hiding spot.

As they understood it, demigods were, as the name implied, half human, half god. And that alone gives them an advantage against the monsters. Enhanced strength, reflexes, and abnormal abilities that normal people don’t have and never would. As far as Price knows, with enough training, they are quite the force to be reckoned with in the right circumstances.

But two things were made very clear to them: one was that they would be assigned was non-negotiable. And two, that their newest member was a god damn child.

That was the thought stuck on repeat in Price’s head as the argument around him continued. He tuned most of it out, gaze locked on the photo displayed on the screen. It was a headshot that morbidly resembled a yearbook photo, with a young girl at the center. 

Her inky black hair was braided into a puff, her toothy smile highlighting her childlike youth. She had warm mahogany skin, but she had three long scars on her right cheek that ran from the top of her cheek, practically right next to her right eye, curving slightly down to her chin. 

Something tried to take out her eye, that was for sure.

The picture cut it off, but it looked like she was wearing jean overalls based on the straps, with an orange shirt underneath. 

But what gave Price a slight pause was her eyes. They were an odd violet, clearly natural, yet they unnerved him. There was no doubt about the fact that this little girl with strange eyes was a demigod, the “hero” about to be assigned to protect them from monsters. 

“Captain, please, fuckin’ say something!” Gaz snapped, his hand slapping the table hard enough to rattle it.

Price dragged his gaze away from the screen, taking in Soap and Gaz’s exasperation, then Laswell’s tired but expectant look. Ghost remained unreadable as ever.

“No,” Price said flatly. “We’re not having her on base.”

“For God's sake, John,” Laswell replied, her fingers pinching the bridge of her nose. “What part of non-negotiable is not getting through your head?”

“The part where you’re saddling us with a fuckin’ child,” he shot back. “We don’t work with children. We don’t bring them into war zones on the off chance we run into a monster. We’ve got artillery—we can handle it. We don't need her.”

Laswell scoffed at him, making him grind his teeth. “What we have isn't enough. The need for stronger offensive and defensive measures, and we can't even see them until it's too late. We need someone who can see past whatever is hiding them and dispose of them, and this asset will.”

It's the fact that they really don't have much information about these monsters that really pissed Price off, not nearly as much as this ridiculous proposal Kate dropped on them, but the lack of information that they really had on these monsters and enemies. Don't get me wrong, having little to no information is not uncommon in their line of work; the lack of information they had on these monsters and how to deal with them, save for what the “Gods' representatives” told them, was ridiculous.

That wasn’t how they operated, and that wasn’t how you kept men alive.

“Oh,” Soap goaned out, leaning back on his chair and crossing his arms. “An asset is she? She’s a wee barin!” 

“Yes, she is an asset, whether you want to admit it or not. And I had to pull a lot of favors in order to secure that we could get her here.”

“Oh, brilliant,” Soap groaned, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed. “An ‘asset,’ is she? She’s a wee bairn!”

“Yes,” Laswell said evenly. “She is. And I had to call in a considerable number of favors to get her assigned to you.”

“With all due respect,” Ghost finally spoke, voice low, “we don’t give a shit what favors you pulled. We said no.” His eyes bore into the woman. Kate looked at him and matched his stare right back. 

Kate sighed, looking more and more like she's aging ten years. “As I said, this is non-negotiable. I will be leaving to pick her up at 0400 tomorrow.” She gave Price a quick, stern look at that last comment.

“From where, feckin’ primary school?” Soap muttered sarcastically. 

Laswell rolled her eyes. “She’s not a toddler, Johnny. She is old enough to be cleared for this placement and has had significant training—”

“Who's her parent?” Ghost interrupted.

That shut the words right out of Laswell's throat. She gave them a hard look before leaning back into her own chair. 

“Unfortunately, that information is classified until she is safely and securely on base.” 

Gaz barked out a disbelieving laugh as he pushed up from his chair, the legs scraping loudly against the floor. “So let me get this straight—we’re being forced to take in a demigod child we get no say in it, and you won’t even tell us what kind of demigod she is?”

“You will know when she gets here. For the time being, you will have her file.” Laswell sternly interrupted. She stood tensely before sliding the stack of folders to the middle of the table. “This is happening, gentleman, whether you like it or not. I suggest you make peace with it, or we will have to take more extreme measures.” 

“Like what?” Price gritted out, his anger starting to climb higher and higher. This cannot be happening, no fucking way are they going to streamroll them into agreeing to this. 

Laswell looked him dead in his eyes with a blank expression before speaking again. “Then, the paperwork for reserved or desk duty will be filled. Effective immediately.”

That set Gaz and Soap off again, both men rising to argue, voices overlapping in sharp protest. Laswell didn’t stay to hear it. She simply walked around the table, heading for the door. Ghost just looked at the folders that sat in the middle of the table. 

“This is happening, John. This is the world we live in now, and you all need to get used to it.” 

Then she was out the door.

________________

“So now we’ workin’ with a feckin’ child soldier. Perfect,” Soap groaned, slumping back against the couch in their barracks. After that meeting, and the fact that they weren't getting out of this was made perfectly clear, they had no choice but to accept. Thus, here they were. Soap, Ghost, and Gaz, sitting around a low table, staring down at the file of a little girl who was supposedly meant to protect them.

Price didnt join them, no, he went after Laswell, probably continuing to make their case on why this was a ridiculous move and that this would definitely do more harm than good. 

“An’ how the feck are we supposed to get a grasp on her when most of the papers black?!” Soap demanded, waving his copy of the dossier through the air.

Gaz let out a tired and frustrated sigh to Soaps continued his rant, rubbing a hand behind his neck roughly as he looked down at the open folder in his lap, the soft glow of his laptop on the coffee table illuminated the thin papers. True as Laswell said, her Godly parent was redacted, hell, most of the document was, which didnt give them really anything useful to give them a slightly better picture of who would possibly be sleeping down the hall in the next day or two.

Her name was Dionne. The photo they’d seen earlier was outdated—she was younger in it. According to the file, she’d turned thirteen just three months ago.

Thirteen. She's thirteen years old.

That constant reminder rang around Gaz’s skull as his jaw tightened while he kept reading. 

She hailed from the U.S., was born in Atlanta, Georgia, and, surprisingly, was technically a ward of the state. She has a mother named Imani Jefferson, and a father wasn’t listed. He had to be the godly parent, right? 

So her mums not in the picture, huh? Wonder why? 

She did have an aunt named Delilah, who was her legal guardian. But that’s the most the document gave him before the rows and rows of blacked out lines began. This was the type of shit you would see in blacksite files on targets and locations, not exactly what you would expect with a file on a little girl.

The information he did get should have been enough for him to find out more on his laptop, but that came to a dead end as well. Sure, he found pictures of Dionne and her mum via Facebook and Instagram. But that didnt really give him much, since all the Facebook posts were like, 9 or 10 years old, with no new information or posts, and the Instagram link was made inactive. 

Even finding the girls' school and medical records were like pulling teeth. It was almost as if she and her mother had just fallen off the face of the earth. 

“Jesus Christ…” he muttered under his breath.

Gaz shook his head before closing the folder shut, frustration seeping out of every pore in his body. This just felt wrong, using a child like this. To have no real information about this kid, who was supposed to “protect them”. 

Did they have better, inhuman abilities that could be much better used to deal with these monsters? Yes, but they could have waited a while longer, or sent them a fucking adult. He didn't give a shit how much “training” she had or what that would even be; at the end of the day, they were expected to send out a kid to fight something for them, and that just didn't sit right with him.

“We’ve dealt with child soldiers before,” Ghost said from where he leaned against the wall, his own copy of the file in hand. He didn’t even look up. “This is no different.”

Soap snapped his head over to the larger man, his wide eyes focused on him.

“An’ yer fine with that?” he shot back. “An’ don’t even—this is different, Simon. We dinnae work with child soldiers.”

Ghost rolled his eyes at the Scotsman. “I’m aware of that, Johnny. Doesn’t change the fact that she is one. And if she gets here, she’ll be a liability like any other. So no, I’m not fine with her being here.”

Gaz huffed out a small laugh as he looked at the closed folder. “If she gets here”, if the captain is able to convince Laswell against this decision, but a small nagging voice in the back of his head told him that this was absolutely not going to go their way. 

The door to their barracks slammed hard enough to shake one of the few pictures on the wall, snapping all of their attention to the incomer. The growing pit in Gaz’s stomach fully dropped to the floor when he saw Price stomp into view, a deep scowl marred his face as he passed them, not even stopping as he headed down the hall. Moments later, another door slam could be heard, and Gaz guessed it was Price's office.

Silence filled the living room. 

“Guess it didnt go over well.” Ghost bluntly said, looking back to the dossier and flipping a page. Soap swore in Gaelic, smacking his hand hard against his thigh as he ran his hands roughly through his Mohawk. 

So they were getting a random demigod child of a Patheion that they don't know, whose Godly parent is not known to them, nor whatever abilities she has that are supposed to help them. 

Perfect.

With no other real choice, Gaz reached over and grabbed the dossier again, staring at it and the little picture that was clipped to the top of the folder. They were getting this placement whether they liked it or not, but by no certain terms will he ever be ok with this. 

“Why the feck was she charged with arson?!” Soap suddenly barked, flipping a page in his own file.

“Charges were dropped,” Ghost replied, entirely unhelpful—and if Gaz wasn’t imagining it, faintly amused by that tidbit of information. 

But all Gaz could do was let out a low groan as he let his head fall into his hands as Soap ranted about their apparently soon to be arsonistic news recruit.

(If you dont want me to tag yall, just let me know. Just wanted to give thanks to those who stuck around lol)

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