#so whoever was running that half price books or set that shelf up

[bluebellthesponge]

i completely forgot that my own copy of the communist manifesto includes historical artwork to illustrate the ideas and talking points with artwork

obviously reading material it’s not necessary at all but i just think it’s neat that the copy 16 year old me found at a half price books happened to be this one

[halo-jpeg]

Bearable | A Reddie Fanfiction

Read it from the beginning

Chapter 2

Richie's phone buzzed. Instantaneously, his phone was out of his pocket and into his hand, and he opted to check the message rather than watch the sidewalk ahead of him. A grin split his face and he caught the inside of his cheek between his teeth, biting down on that instead of letting out an excited little squeal. The text was from an unknown number and read,

Hi, it's Bill from the coffee shop. Can I get the party information?

With another three guests set to come, Richie was all the more anticipated. That brought the list of guests up to an even 40. With flying thumbs, Richie tapped back his answer consisting of his address and the time the party was starting before saving the number into his phone underneath the name 'Stuttering Bill'. The phone was slid back into the pocket of his jeans. A stiff breeze whisked past him, and he almost felt cold enough to shiver, pulling the edges of his arcade-floor print button-up closer together in an attempt to shield himself. The sky overhead was a pale grey, promising rain soon to come and snow, too, in no time at all. It was nearly November, and while the snow usually fell heaviest from December to January it was no rare occurrence for it to make an early appearance just for a week or two. Again, Richie's phone buzzed.

Thanks. Any snacks we should bring?

For a moment, Richie pondered. He had a perfect reply locked and loaded but didn't know if it was too soon for this kind of joke. What he wanted to say was 'only yourself, hot stuff' and maybe he'd throw in a 'and the short one too' but he quickly decided he didn't want these three random people to hate his guts too quickly on the off chance that they weren't okay with guy-on-guy flirtation like that. Instead of one of the many cruddy pickup lines he has ready to go he says,

No pressure, unless you want something for yourself.

As Richie puts his phone away yet again he found himself right where he wanted to be, the lovely little family-run grocery store known as 'Hanlon Grocer'. The people inside actually tolerated him and took the time out of their days to run 50 bags of Doritos through the checkout, when a few other places he'd been to for party snack stocking had actually turned him away- it also helped that the owners son was one of his best pals. He stepped through the door, running a quick hand through his slightly wind-swept hair. Almost immediately he was greeted by the young lady currently working the register, the younger cousin of Mike Hanlon herself, Jennifer Hanlon.

"Morning, Richie," She greeted with a casual wave, attention temporarily stolen from the book she had open in front of her, "Mike tells me you're having a party tonight. I'm guessing that's why you're here?"

"You're a cunning one, Jenny!" Richie leaned against the counter, his radiant smile making him look something close to insane, "I have about an entire aisle of soda to buy from you!" Jenny smiled back at him, plucking her bookmark from the counter and slipping it into place. She closed the book, sliding it aside, and Richie caught sight of the cover- The Prestige, by Christopher Priest. It was a new one that Mike had been reading a few weeks back.

"Well, Mike's somewhere here. If you flash him that million-dollar smile maybe you can get him to help you carry some things." Richie clapped his hands together, and took a step back.

"Thanks a billion, Jen- I'll see you shortly, I'm sure. Get those scanning hands ready, I'll have quite the haul," Richie took a few more steps backwards, still talking to Jenny as he made his way further into the store, "I really hope you don't mind me always making such a big fuss!"

"Pshh," Jenny waves a hand, "You're our top customer, Rich, I could never mind!" And, with that, Richie spun on his heel, leaving Jenny to return to her fine literature so he could go pack his arms full of snacks, too many to carry for one man alone. Lucky for him, just as he was about to disappear into an aisle in search of his friend, Mike stepped out into view from nearer the produce section, catching Richie's eye.

"Sure an begorahh, me ole' laddie Mr. O'Hanlon, sor!" Richie danced along the linoleum tiles, trying both to stomp and float at the same time, graceful and intimidating as his Irish Cop, "Doh ye mind lendin' me a hand 'er two?" At once Mike set aside the crate of cans he'd been carrying, meaning to restock some shelves- in Mike's mind, that could wait.

"Morning, Richie," He greeted as he stepped away from the crate, instead beckoning with his head for Richie to follow him towards the primary snacks isle, "Putting off shopping til last minute again? Do I have to tell you it might be a little more wise to get this done a week or so in advance in case you forget anything?" Mike glances over at Richie, his eyes alight with a teasing mischief as they turn left into isle 6.

"No, my good sir, you do not." Richie clasps his hands together as he speaks, leaning over just slightly to rake his gaze across the bottom shelf. One bag after the other, he scanned in search of just what he wanted and- aha, there it was, the barbecue chips, and, more precisely, the Lays barbecue chips.

"I called in for an extra order of those just for you," Mike gave Richie's shoulder a gentle push, which Richie returned with one of his own.

"Oh, you!" He was now the Southern Belle, a hand spread on his chest as he batted his eyelashes, "You really shouldn't have, Sir Michael, you are just too kind!" With that, the charade was abandoned and Richie dropped to his knees, none-too-graciously jamming his absurdly long arms onto either side of the rows of barbecue chips. As if they were his bride, he scooped them up, holding them with as much care as he would if this metaphor were true.

"Do you... want a basket?" Mike was snickering to himself, one hand lifted to hover over his toothy grin, the other planted on his hip. "Let me get you a basket." Richie was left alone for a second as Mike hurried away. Right, a basket- that... that could have been smart, Richie thinks to himself, but he isn't always too smart. Case in point, instead of recognizing that his arms were way too full and he couldn't carry anything else, he got distracted by the rows of chocolate bars and hobbled his way over there. A box of Atomic Fireballs sat in the midst of the candy, basically begging him to buy them. Against his better judgement, he tried to free up one hand enough to snag the candy.

-----

Eddie's gaze darted back and forth between two different cereal boxes- the classic Corn Flakes or the new Special K. One had less sugar, the other less calories, and he would be getting about the same amount of cereal for the same price but- All of a sudden, Eddie's careful thinking is interrupted by a crash, and he leaps nearly three feet in the air at the sound of it, letting out a horribly embarrassing sound like a quite shriek. Both cereal boxes went to the ground and he suddenly didn't care about them any more. A sound like that couldn't possibly mean anything good, could it? Someone might have been hurt and he has the equipment with him right now to help them on some minimal scale. Eddie hurried forwards, exiting his aisle and heading straight for the source of the noise in aisle six. As he sped around the corner, he came skidding to a halt for just a moment before pushing forwards once more and stopping at the side of someone covered in a mixture of chip bags, candies, and metal.

"Shit, are you okay? Anything hurt? Here, let me help-" A little metal rack in the center of the aisle had been pulled over onto the poor guy trapped underneath, one rung jabbed against his ribs in a manner that couldn't possibly be comfortable. Eddie fastened his hands around the rack as best he could, pulling it off and away as quickly as possible. As soon as it was pushed aside his full attention went back to whoever had been trapped underneath, and a gust of familiarity punched him right in the stomach. The only one Eddie had ever seen wearing those wretched thick-framed glasses had been the coffee guy from the night before. Eddie brushed away the pang of annoyance in his gut and helped brush bags of barbecue chips aside to pull the barista into a sitting position.

"Ah, thanks," The guy said with a chuckle, pushing his glasses up and reaching for one of the bags of chips. He frowned as he picked it up, suspecting it for damage and most likely discovering that at least half of it's contents were crushed, "My bad for the trouble, my long-ass limbs sometimes get the-" He paused, finally looking up at Eddie, and then his own eyes lit with recognition and he was grinning like a maniac. "Hey, I know you! New guy! Eds!" Eddie fought the urge to roll his eyes at the nickname, brushing right past him.

"Are you okay? Hurt at all? Do I need to call a doctor? When did you last get a tetanus shot? Are you bleeding anywhere?" Eddie was already moving to unzip his trusty fanny pack, knowing he had butterfly tape, disinfectant, bandages and all things alike just inside. "How are you feeling? Dizzy at all? You might have hit your head or something and-"

"Hey, calm down there buddy, you'll give yourself an aneurysm if you don't stop and take a breath!" The barista was chuckling again, hands held out in front of him in some attempt to calm Eddie's already-racing thoughts. Worst case scenarios sprung up left and right, the current most prominent possibility being that this goof could get some sort of instantaneous infection that would transform him into a zombie, "I'm just fine, actually. I've taken quite a few tumbles in my day and this is nothin'. If anything, I'd be more concerned for the chips!" He went to climb to his feet, and Eddie was almost reluctant to allow that. Maybe he'd throw out his back or tear a muscle or fall again- he shoved the thoughts away and instead just stood as well. "Thanks, Eds," The guy said with a big glowing grin and a shrug of his shoulders, one hand rising to scratch at the back of his neck, "If I'd known you were here to save the day I'd have fallen sooner! My knight in shining armor!"

"Don't-" Eddie began, biting his tongue and then finally snapping out, "Don't call me Eds! And for the love of God, don't go getting yourself hurt just for the hell of it. That's stupid. You could have broken something!" Crossing his arms over his chest, Eddie huffed out a breath, shaking his head out of disapproval. Eddie's damsel in distress opened his mouth to speak when a new voice sliced in and someone Eddie hadn't seen before hurried around the corner with concern etched into his every feature and a shopping basket slung over one arm.

"Richie, what- What happened? You okay?" He approached quickly, glancing briefly at Eddie before his full attention went to Mr. Damsel- or, otherwise, Richie. Richie shot two thumbs ups.

"I'm great, Mikey, my good pal Eddie came to help me up."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Mikey set down his basket and turned to Eddie instead, extending a hand and a friendly smile, "I'm Mike. I didn't mean to intrude if you two were talking, but Rich tends to get himself hurt more than the average human male. It's second nature now to fret over him." Richie let out a scoff, adopting a dramatic frown and upturning his nose.

"It's really hard to control my noodle arms, thank you very much! And, come on, did you really expect me not to go for the Fireballs? The heart wants what it wants, doesn't it?" Eddie let Mike's hand go and, feeling a little bit awkward now to be talking to these near-strangers, said,

"Well, it's nice to meet you. I, uh... I guess I'll be seeing you again later tonight at the party," Eddie tried to smile, "Don't go knocking over any more display shelves." Eddie was just about to turn and hurry away, just about to get out of the social interaction when none other than Bill appeared down the hall, a grocery basket hanging off his arm, obviously curious and with Stan at his side. Bill spotted Richie, Richie spotted Bill, and then the latter was approaching with his Big Bill smile.

"Oh, hey!" He greeted, nodding cheerfully in Mike's direction as well, "It's you again! I juh-just wanted to thank you fuh-for the invitation to your party." The best thing Eddie thinks Bill has ever done is draw the attention away from him. He has a tendency to do that- most eyes shift right for him when he enters the room, as if everyone sense that he is the leader. That's alright, in Eddie's opinion, because he could never be a leader and is much more content to be a follower hiding in the shadows. Now, both Richie, Mike and Bill are locked in conversation, much more friendly and natural than the one Eddie had been caught in moments earlier. Stan takes a few subtle steps towards his much shorter friend, leaning over a little to hiss out a whisper,

"They'll be talking for hours, I can already tell." Eddie found himself smiling and nodding right along. Stan was absolutely correct. The chemistry that was already brewing was that foretelling of three great friends. "Interested in coming with me to look at the bakery? I can smell it from here and I want to see what they have." Eddie only smiles wider. He nods his head without seconds thought, only trying for a second or two to catch Bill's gaze before just giving up and following Stan out of the hallway and towards the back of the building. Matching him step for step, the two picked up a much more comfortable, much more pleasant conversation that Eddie actually enjoyed having. "The curly haired one sure talks a lot. What are the chances that we're seeing him again today? How many grocery stores are there in Portland?"

"Apparently just the one. Some higher power must hate me to make me run into him again." Eddie rolled his eyes dramatically, and Stan let out a snicker, gently bumping his elbow into Eddie's and quirking a brow. In return, Eddie's own brows bent down into a questioning furrow. "What? Why are you looking at me like that? Do I have something on my face or something?" One hand lifted to wipe at his cheek but it came back clean. Stan just shook his head, a small smile ghosting his lips as they arrived at the bakery. "Oh sweet, sesame bagels!" His attention redirected, Eddie dismissed the odd look and moved to stand right in front of the glass, hovering over it and scanning it's contents but never putting his hands on it. That was icky, in his opinion- Stan was at his side moments later, scanning over the iced sweets just next to the bagels that had caught Eddie's eye.

"What do you want to bet Bill won't want us wasting our money on any of this?" Stan said with a grin, gaze still glued to a tantalizing slice of carrot cake.

"My soul. How much extra cash do we have to waste?" No one needed to speak another word. The two made a silent agreement- buy whatever the hell you want and defend your purchase with your life. Neither Stan nor Eddie would let Bill scold them for this. They deserved some sort of 'welcome to Portland' treat. In the end, they were both walking away with quite the haul- Eddie had secured a bag of six of those sesame bagels, and Stan had bought the carrot cake along with a loaf of banana bread. Just as Stan passed over the cash needed to pay for the treats, Bill stepped into view, hurrying in their direction with his grocery basket filled with whatever other food the three needed to last them a week.

"Wuh-what did you two get your hands on?" Bill doesn't waste a minute to start interrogating, though the smile on his face betrays his attempts at scolding the two. He doesn't even make them explain themselves, jumping to the next topic right after and beckoning with his head for the two to follow him towards the checkouts, "We should cuh-come here from now on. I like supporting luh-luh-local businesses. It's good for the economy or something, and Mike is n-nice." Eddie almost let out a groan- that was the last thing he wanted, because then he risked running into Richie again. It seemed he and Mike, one of the grocers, were good friends. Why else would he be worried for Richie's well being? Still, Eddie bit his tongue, instead answering with something less rude and more civil.

"We could, or we could go to a bigger store. They'd have more options- we'd probably get better deals, too." Clutching his bag of sesame bagels and hoping Bill would take the bait, he continued in his attempts to convince him, "Here, they've only got so many different things. If we went to the Superstore a ways away we could pick out healthier foods and stuff and probably save a ton of money."

"Eh," Stan answered rather than Bill, holding a hand out in the redheads direction to silently offer a turn carrying the basket, "I like it here. It's quiet, and it's all family run. There'll be less processed items available. You hate processed foods, Eddie, you should love it here- it's all organic." For some odd reason Eddie felt like Stan was maybe... plotting something? The curly-haired boy seemed awfully suspicious. Usually, he just went along with whatever else was decided, and rarely bothered to help in decision making. He never minded what Bill or Eddie chose because, as far as he was concerned, they were both logical and made great decisions. Alarm bells rang in Eddie's head and curiosity began to bubble within him. What was Stanley getting at?

"Luh-let's see how everything plays out. Maybe w-we'll end up going somewhere else next w-week, buh-but we don't ne-need to decide r-ruh-right now." The three arrived at the till.

"Good morning," The lady behind it looked about their age, with bright eyes and glowing sepia skin, her hair frizzy and light, like a cloud around her head. Her name tag read 'Jennifer'. "Chilly day today, isn't it?" Jennifer got right to work, not even glancing down at her hands as she scanned one item and then the next in rapid succession with memorized ease. Bill and her picked up a natural conversation, his great people skills showing through now more than ever. Bill brought up Mike, and the three found out that he was Jennifer's cousin- they also discovered that hers and Mike's grandparents owned the store and kept it running smoothly. Before they knew it, everything was bagged and ready to go. Stan, Bill and Eddie distributed the bags between them, said their goodbyes to the kind girl behind the counter, and made for the doors. The chill that had been in the air when Eddie had first arrived had eased, just a little. The sun peaked out timidly from behind thickening swaths of darkened clouds, and the taste of rain hung heavy on the breeze.

"We should get a cab. I swear to God, if it starts raining and I catch a cold I'm blaming it on you guys." Eddie grimaced as he looked up towards the sky, and the three set off back in the direction of home.

"What are we doing for the rest of the day?" Stan asked, staring up and around at all of the buildings lining the street, taking in every little detail Portland had to offer. Bill was doing just the same as he answered,

"I have nuh-nothing planned. I might take a n-nap or suh-humthing like that before the party." Eddie let out something akin to a scoff, though it sounded more surprised than hostile or anything negative like that.

"Don't you still have unpacking to do? You can't seriously be finished, can you?" Bill shrugged his shoulders, shuffling his grocery bags from one hand to the other. Eddie took that as a sign that Bill was, in fact, done with his unpacking. How, Eddie had no idea- shit, he's hardly finished half of his, and Stan couldn't possibly be done either with how much of a perfectionist he was. As if to prove Eddie wrong, Stan spoke next.

"I finished earlier this morning. You aren't done? How much do you have?" Eddie had brought his biggest suitcase from back home. After all, he had basically taken everything he owned with him; his entire closet, his whole medicine cabinet, more miscellaneous things like some toxin-free cleaning supplies- getting everything into a convenient spot (and needing to clean those convenient spots first) took time and effort and Eddie tended to get distracted. It made sense that he wasn't done yet, but he hadn't expected the other two to have finished so quickly. "That's alright, it's fine," Stan continued, cutting into Eddie's thoughts, "I can help you if you want me to?" Eddie was quick to deny that offer.

"Thanks, but I'm more than capable of putting my own shit away. You guys can do whatever- don't worry about me." Sooner or later, the three arrived back at home, and Bill offered to unload to groceries which left Eddie to get right to work. When they arrived back up in their apartment, Eddie dropped his grocery bags in the new, untouched kitchen and dismissed himself to head for his room. Straight down the hall from the kitchen sat Eddie's door, and behind that, his bedroom, perfectly neat and tidy. As he stepped inside, he took in the sight of it all again with a burst of pride- this was his room, and he finally had the privacy he had always craved. To the direct left of the door sat a small set of drawers with a sizable mirror mounted just above it. Facing those drawers was the king-sized bed fitted with sleek grey sheets and a whole seven pillows of different sizes. Underneath the bed was a rug, the floor a pale hardwood- two bedside tables sat on either side of the bed and a door to the closet was to his right. Finally, the piece de resistance were the large double-doors that led to his own private balcony- since Bill's room had an ensuite and Stan had a walk-in closet, he had scored the balcony and he was more than excited.

At last, Eddie stepped into his room, pushing the door near-shut behind him. The white, cold light filtering in through the glass panes of the balcony doors washed everything around him in a pale luminescence. Any minute now, he was certain, rain would start to fall, and he was glad to have made it home before getting caught in it. Eddie made for his suitcase, which was set at the foot of his bed. It was huge, silver, heavy-duty and still half-full despite a whole hour of unpacking. Pushing it onto it's side, Eddie pulled on the zipper and flipped open the top, not wasting a minute as he began to pick out the pharmaceuticals tucked within. Despite escaping his mother, he hadn't escaped old habits- paranoia still gnawed at his insides whenever he thought of sickness, his own weakened immune system- he pushed the thoughts away and began to arrange his assortment of emergency medications on top of the drawers. As he did so, he stared at his reflection in the mirror- the fear of sickness was, at once, forgotten. Instead, he found himself soaking in the feeling of his newfound independence. Eddie had finally left the nest for good.

[hersheyotaku]

Cloaked Feelings

Fandom: Tangled Characters: Varian, Ruddiger, Rapunzel Pairings: One-sided Varipunzel, heavily implied New Dream Tags: post series, before wedding, minor fluff, minor angst, unrequited love, pining, Varian being a dork, also starring Eugene’s face

Summary: Stumbling across the shapeshifting cloak was a complete accident. But with a bright and inquisitive mind like his, Varian can’t help but want to study it. However, a case of mistaken identity soon forces him to choose between doing what’s right…or falling further into a tangled web of deception and selfish impulses.

Read on Ao3 here

“Ruddiger!” Varian called in exasperation. “Get out of there! You can eat your apples after we finish sorting through this stuff.”

With a grumbling chitter, the pudgy raccoon abandoned the bucket of apples he’d been rooting through and ambled over to where Varian was sitting cross-legged on the floor. The young alchemist gave his friend a quick scratch behind the ear before nodding his head at a nearby basket, and the raccoon dutifully clambered up the side and disappeared over the rim.

Satisfied that Ruddiger was doing his part, Varian went back to rifling through his own box, which was filled with an assortment of unclaimed goods that had been salvaged from the wreckage of Corona a few months back.

Rapunzel had told him that since no one had come forward to claim any of the items, he was free to sift through and see if there was anything he could use for his experiments. He may be a fully-funded royal engineer now, but he still had personal projects that he liked to work on.

Besides, he enjoyed the thrill of the hunt! Back in Old Corona, he and Ruddiger had spent many days together digging through scrap piles for hidden treasures, though Ruddiger was usually more interested in gobbling down the remains of someone’s half-eaten sandwich than extracting metal bedsprings from a mattress to be melted down later.

Lance had helped him haul half a dozen boxes and baskets full of odds and ends down to his lab in the basement of the castle, but he’d paid the price for the help by spending the next half-hour cleaning up the minor explosion the larger man had caused during the five minutes he’d spent in the lab, touching everything Varian told him not to. Once the exasperated alchemist had contained the globulous purple fire and sent Lance on his way, he had finally been able to start sorting his haul.

Varian had just dropped a dented pocket watch into his pile of useful objects when he heard a hissing sound from Ruddiger’s basket. Brow furrowed, he stood and leaned forward to peer inside.

An orange tabby cat lunged out at him, and Varian let out a startled yelp. “Gah! What the—?!” He ducked his head as the strange cat clawed its way up his vest and curled around his shoulders. Where had it come from?! And where was Ruddiger? Grabbing the edge of the basket, he tipped it towards him, searching for his friend.

“Ruddiger?” he asked, then winced when the cat yowled right into his ear. He reached up to grab it, but instead of fur he got a fistful of fabric. Baffled, he pulled at the material, and in a shower of sparkling light a dark piece of cloth slid off of the cat and revealed Ruddiger instead.

They stared at each for a moment, then both of their gazes darted down to the cloth hanging from the alchemist’s hand. What…had just happened?

—

To Varian’s utter astonishment, he discovered that the large piece of cloth was actually a cloak. A hooded cloak with a chameleon-shaped brooch that could change a person’s physical features and was apparently controlled by neural oscillation or…something close to it. Essentially—as he’d had to explain to Ruddiger when the raccoon had tilted his furry head in confusion—you think of the person you want to look like, and boom! Instant change! And just as astounding, the cloak itself shifted into whatever outfit the wearer willed it to, making it the perfect disguise!

Remarkably, the cloak wasn’t simply bending light to create an illusion; it changed the physiological structure of whoever was wearing it. While experimenting, Varian had shifted to look like Quirin, and his head had collided with a high shelf that normally wouldn’t have posed a risk. Aside from the forming bump on his forehead, it was an exciting discovery!

He’d also found that the cloak only functioned correctly if the brooch was attached. Separated, the two items lost their transformative properties, and even when Varian tried attaching the brooch to other materials, it never yielded any results. But if he could find a way to replicate the materials, the scientific possibilities could be endless!

To that end, he’d laid the cloak out on a workbench that he’d hastily cleared of beakers and books. One corner of the fabric lay under the lens of a microscope, while the chameleon brooch floated in a beaker of chemical solution that Varian planned to test to see what properties it contained. He also had a few stray pieces of thread from the cloak floating in their own solution. He was going to find out exactly what these things were made of!

Plucking the brooch from the solution with a pair of sterilized tweezers, he carefully cleaned it before reattaching it to the cloak. Then he took the two chemical compounds and poured them into labelled test tubes. Since the day he’d tried to test Rapunzel’s hair, he’d improved on the process and come up with an alternate method in the form of a chemical solution that could analyze the composition and properties of whatever he soaked in it.

Once he’d placed the test tubes into the chamber of a small centrifuge machine of his own design and set it to run, the teen alchemist placed his hands on his hips and took a step back, letting out a satisfied huff. That should do it!

But it would be a few hours until the results were ready, so now he had some time to kill.

Glancing around his lab, his eyes landed on his bookmarked copy of Flynn Rider and the Cursed Isle of Sairaag. He grinned. He knew just how to pass the time.

—

“Ha! You think a few scurvy pirates can stop the great Flynn Rider?” Varian goaded his invisible foe, brandishing his prototype electromagnetic sword. Wearing the face of one Eugene Fitzherbert, he swiped at the rubber ball that came flying towards him, envisioning it as a savage pirate charging him at the command of the Dread Pirate Ruby-Eyed Rick.

While Eugene might not be the Flynn Rider from The Tales of Flynnigan Rider, his was still the face Varian associated with his favorite fictional character. And with the help of one totally non-magical cloak, he now had the chance to be his childhood hero!

“Is that the best you’ve got, you flea-bitten rapscallion?” he taunted, hopping from one foot to the other in anticipation of the next round.

Dropping the ball he’d been about to load into the Varian’s homemade launching machine, Ruddiger gave an indignant chitter and planted his paws on his sides.

“No, Ruddiger—I know you don’t actually have fleas,” Varian reassured his friend with a touch of exasperation. “It’s just a line from the book!”

Ruddiger didn’t seem entirely convinced, but nonetheless, he picked up the ball and dropped it into the machine.

“Ha-ha!” Varian crowed triumphantly as he cut through the projectile. “Give it up, Ruby Eye! Your two-bit lackeys are no match for—”

He froze at the sound of the door creaking open. Shoot, he hadn’t been expecting anyone!

“Hey Varian, have you seen—oh there you are, Eugene!” Rapunzel stepped into the lab, a wide grin on her freckled features.

“O-oh, no, I’m not—” Varian stammered, his cheeks flushing at being caught in what was essentially an elaborate game of make-believe. Why did he have to give in to his childish impulses without locking the door first? And why did it have to be Rapunzel of all people to catch him?

But apparently Rapunzel had drawn a completely different conclusion, and she let out a light laugh as she approached him. “Were you playing with Varian’s inventions again?” She took the sword from his hand and placed it on the nearest table. “You know how he feels about people touching his stuff. Remember how you crashed his Flynnoleum-powered cart into the city fountain?”

Wait, that had been Eugene?! Varian knew he hadn’t forgotten to set the emergency brake when he’d—

The alchemist was jolted from his thoughts when Rapunzel gave his nose a light tap. “Don’t worry!” she told him, before leaning in close and whispering conspiratorially, “I don’t think Varian has it out for you the same way he does for Lance.”

With Rapunzel so close, her large emerald eyes and cute freckled nose mere inches from his own, Varian was finding it extremely hard to articulate any of the thoughts tumbling around in his head, and that gave the princess time to move on to the very reason she’d come looking for Eugene.

“Now, who’s ready for our date~?” she practically sang, bouncing on her heels.

“Date?” Varian echoed, before realization dawned on him and he held up his hands in alarm. “Rapunzel, I’m not—”

“Oh very funny, Eugene,” Rapunzel smirked. Then her fingers curled into the material of his shirt to pull him down—a foreign feeling for the normally short-statured teen—and she pressed a kiss to his mouth.

Time ground to a complete standstill for Varian, his every sense zeroing in on the feeling of Rapunzel’s soft lips pressing against his own. She—she was kissing him!

Then her lips began to move against his, and Varian couldn’t help himself.

He kissed her back.

He had no idea how long the kiss lasted—it felt like an eternity and a split second all rolled into one—before Rapunzel pulled away with that shining smile of hers.

As Varian slowly came back to his senses, he realized that his arms had wound around the princess and pulled her into a tight embrace. But it was unlike any embrace they’d ever shared before. It was intimate, and Varian could feel a hot flush creeping up his back and neck as his heart pounded fiercely, keenly aware of the feel of Rapunzel’s body pressed against his.

He wasn’t given too much more time to think about it before Rapunzel expertly twirled out of his hold and grabbed his hand. “C’mon, let’s go! We don’t want to miss the sunset!”

Before Varian could ask ‘what sunset?’ he was being pulled towards the door.

Turning his head to look over his shoulder, he caught sight of Ruddiger watching from atop his workbench. ‘Help!’ he mouthed to the raccoon. Ruddiger tipped his head, seeming to consider the idea before giving him a toothy grin and curling his small raccoon hands into double thumbs up.

What…that little traitor! Varian didn’t even have time to glare at the raccoon before Rapunzel towed him down the hall, chatting excitedly about their date.

Now, Varian’s first instinct was to protest and tell her he wasn’t Eugene and that she was mistaken. But the fresh memory of what had just transpired between them kept his lips sealed as his pulse thundered in his burning ears.

He couldn’t let her know that he wasn’t Eugene now! What would she think if she found out she’d kissed him and…oh geez, he’d kissed her back! If he hadn’t been an idiot and gotten swept away in the moment he could probably play this all off as the huge misunderstanding it was.

But he had kissed her back and even wrapped his arms around her, which had just prolonged it. There was no explaining that away! She’d find out—she’d know how he…how he felt about her, and then what would happen? She was engaged! To Eugene! One of his best friends!

If Varian’s hands had been free he would have tangled them in his hair in frustration. What was he gonna do? The kiss had been wonderful, everything he’d ever imagined it could be, but he couldn’t let Rapunzel find out!

The best thing he could do now was escape before things got out of hand.

“Oh hey, um…s-sunshine?” The nickname tasted foreign on his tongue. He was so used to calling her Rapunzel or princess, but Eugene usually reserved the first for more serious occasions and never used the second. This was going to be tricky.

“Hm?” Rapunzel glanced back at him curiously.

“Uh, I forgot that I had a…a thing that I need to do. Y’know, captain of the guard stuff and…uh…” Varian trailed off as Rapunzel’s face fell, his chest constricting uncomfortably.

“Oh…does that mean we have to cancel our date?” Her large green eyes stared into his sadly, and suddenly Varian felt very small, despite his magically-enhanced height. Well…it wasn’t like one little date would hurt anything. It would make Rapunzel happy and—if he was honest—the idea of actually going on a date with her was pretty thrilling.

“No,” he finally said, giving her a lop-sided grin. “It can wait.”

The beaming smile that lit Rapunzel’s face effectively washed away all of Varian’s doubts about his decision, and he willingly allowed himself to be whisked down the hall.

—

Varian glanced around the docks uneasily, his doubts resurfacing now that they were actually here. Eugene had apparently made arrangements for a romantic sunset boat ride, which made the teen alchemist wonder where the real Eugene was. Shouldn’t he be here if he was the one who set up this date?

Rapunzel hopped down into the boat and held out an inviting hand. “Ready?” she asked, her smile drawing Varian in like a moth to a flame.

Well, the fact of the matter was that Eugene wasn’t here. And someone had to take Rapunzel on this date! “You bet!” he said, taking her hand and joining her. She untied the mooring rope while he grabbed the oars, and soon they were headed out towards the open water.

They found a spot where Rapunzel insisted they would have the absolute best view of the sunset. Already the darkening sky was turning a dusky pink, and Varian had to admit that it was probably going to be a spectacular view when the sun dipped below the horizon.

But until that happened…he had no clue what he was supposed to do. What were they going to talk about? What did she and Eugene talk about when they were alone like this?

Fortunately for him Rapunzel was a take-charge kind of girl, and she was all too happy to snuggle right up into his side, resting her head on his shoulder. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” she sighed, gazing up at the pink and purple streaks coloring the sky.

A response popped into Varian’s head and, emboldened by his concealed identity, he decided to voice it.

“Not as beautiful as you.” Then he held his breath, not knowing how she would respond. Was that too cheesy? Too forward? Too out of character?

Rapunzel pulled away from his shoulder, and Varian felt his heart jump into his throat. He’d messed up, he’d definitely messed up! Slowly turning his head, he was shocked to see Rapunzel looking at him with a soft smile, her cheeks lightly tinted pink. “Aw, that is so sweet!” she cooed, and this time Varian’s heart skipped a beat for an entirely different reason.

With his confidence boosted and nerves soothed by Rapunzel’s positive response, Varian committed himself to the task of enjoying his time with the bubbly princess.

Amidst amiable chatter, he gave her compliments, enjoying how she’d flush with happiness. He took her hands and softly rubbed his thumb over her knuckles, brushed her hair back from her face, gently pressed his forehead to hers. No matter how small, each touch was absolutely electrifying to him, charged with an emotion that Varian could only describe as…well, love.

This was a side of Rapunzel that only Eugene got to experience, and while it wasn’t like the couple hid their affection in front of others, there was just something about being the direct recipient of Rapunzel’s coy looks—how she would bite her bottom lip while looking at him from beneath her thick eyelashes—that stole his breath and made his stomach do somersaults.

He relished each small romantic gesture—both given and taken—that he’d otherwise never dare to indulge in, and committed each and every one to memory. 

This was both the best and worst idea he’d ever had.

Then Rapunzel leaned in, her eyes slipping closed, and Varian’s heart beat a million miles a minute. It was happening! She was going to kiss him again!

Varian was no stranger to physical affection from Rapunzel. She was the type to give out hugs like candy, and she had no qualms about holding hands with Varian or even snuggling up to him if they were sitting next to each other. But it was always platonic in nature, and while Varian enjoyed it, he hadn’t realized how different those innocent gestures of affection were compared to what Rapunzel shared with Eugene. Even if it was the exact same physical action, it was the emotion and intent behind it that made it special.

And none of it was truly intended for him.

Then her lips were on his, and Varian allowed himself to forget that crucial little detail and be swept away. One hand tangled itself in her hair while the other settled at the small of her back, pulling her closer. He could feel the light pressure of her hand on his chest, and the sensation of her thumb brushing along his jaw sent a delightful jolt up his spine. 

By the time Rapunzel pulled back, Varian’s head was buzzing pleasantly and he felt lighter than air, like he could just float away on the slightest breeze.

“Th-that was great, thanks…” he mumbled dazedly, a goofy grin on his face.

Rapunzel giggled at his dazed expression. Then she tipped her head to the side, studying him. “Y’know, you’ve been acting a bit funny, Eugene. Is something wrong?”

Panic sliced through Varian’s euphoria, and he quickly shook his head. “N-no! Of course not! Why would—why would something be wrong? Nope, ev-everything’s cool, we’re cool!” Chuckling nervously, he made to lean on the side of the boat, but his elbow missed and he nearly tumbled into the water.

“Woah!” Rapunzel exclaimed, grabbing his wrist and yanking him back before he could fall overboard. “Are you sure you’re feeling okay? Should we head back?”

Varian took a second to calm his rapidly beating heart, which felt like it was about to pound his ribs to dust. “I-I guess maybe that would be a good idea,” he conceded reluctantly, almost shakily. As much as he was enjoying spending time out here with Rapunzel like this, on an actual date, he was also painfully aware of what a charade it was. And the longer it continued, the more likely he’d be found out.

Taking both of his hands in hers, Rapunzel locked eyes with him, gazing at him so intently that Varian’s previous attempt to calm his heart became an effort in futility. “You know you can tell me anything, right?” 

Completely entranced by her soft tone and those vivid green eyes filled with understanding and concern, Varian’s mouth automatically opened to confide in her. But at the last second he caught himself and snapped it shut.

He loved her. He’d loved her since the day she’d offered him forgiveness and the chance of redemption, from the moment she’d refused to let him kill himself to clean up the mess he’d made. But he couldn’t tell her that, and he couldn’t tell her that he’d selfishly taken advantage of her to see how it would feel if…if she returned his feelings.

But it was a pale imitation. She thought she was with Eugene, not him.

Taking a deep breath through his nose, Varian gave her a weak smile. This was something he couldn’t share even with her.

So instead, he told her, “I think I might’ve had some…bad fish for lunch. Didn’t um…taste right, y’know?”

Sighing, he lifted his hand and cupped her cheek. Maybe it was wrong, and she certainly wouldn’t know the true meaning behind his words, but this might be the only opportunity he had to tell her without potentially ruining their friendship.

“I love you, Rapunzel,” he told her gently, combing his fingers through her soft brown hair reverently.

Rapunzel’s eyes lit with a warmth that made Varian’s heart ache, and she reached up to rest her hand on his cheek in turn. “And I love you, Eugene.”

It felt like she’d slapped him. Even with her tender touch, and even when she leaned in and pressed her mouth to his once more, Varian felt the sharp ache of Eugene’s name on her lips. He hadn’t even been expecting anything, he’d just wanted to finally tell her, but…it was too much.

The feeling of something warm and wet sliding down his cheek made Varian’s eyes snap open. To his horror, he realized that his vision was swimming. No, he couldn’t cry, Eugene wouldn’t cry!

Breaking the kiss, he was thankful that Rapunzel’s eyes were closed as he swiped his sleeve across his face. What was he doing, he’d known all along that he had no place with Rapunzel. Not like Eugene did.

“Eugene?” she asked, utterly confused when she opened her eyes to the sight of her fiancé vehemently swiping at his eyes with his sleeve.

“All-allergies” was his weak excuse. Leaning down, he picked up the oars and attempted a reassuring smile. “Let’s head back, we can…we can do this again some other time. When there’s less…pollen.”

A lie. She would do this again with Eugene, but not him.

Varian could tell that Rapunzel suspected something was off, judging by the concerned looks she kept shooting him as he rowed them back to shore. So he did his best to buck up and make light small talk, for her sake. He didn’t want her to worry…or to question Eugene about it later.

That thought sent a jolt of horrified realization down his spine. Eugene. There was no way Rapunzel wouldn’t mention the date to him later, probably to ask what he’d been hiding from her. Stupid stupid stupid! They were going to find out!

It took a lot of effort to not let his panic show as he helped Rapunzel out of the boat, a wide smile plastered onto his face that probably looked a bit manic, if Rapunzel’s raised brow was any indication. “Eugene…maybe you should go see a doctor?”

“No!” Varian exclaimed hastily, before clearing his throat. “It’s just that I uh…I need to…need to go.” He stood there for a brief moment, his overly wide smile still in place. Then he ducked away and booked it down the street.

“Wha—Eugene!” Rapunzel exclaimed in surprise, reaching after him. “Where are you going?!”

Somewhere he could take off this stupid cloak and try to figure out a way to salvage this whole situation! But Varian thought back to his ‘bad fish’ excuse and decided to roll with that. “Bathroom!” he shouted back.

As he disappeared around the corner of a building, Rapunzel’s hand slowly lowered. Well that was…weird.

—

Back in the relative safety of his lab, Varian took a moment to lean against the door and catch his breath. Initially he’d wanted nothing more than to rip off the cloak as soon as he was out of Rapunzel’s sight, but had thought better of it. He couldn’t risk someone seeing him go into a building as Eugene and come out as himself, especially while carrying such an incriminating piece of evidence.

So instead, the citizens of Corona got to witness their illustrious captain of the guard tearing through the streets like his tail was on fire. Which…really wasn’t all that rare of an occurrence, but still.

Varian grabbed the cloth at his shoulder and pulled the cloak off, his body returning to normal in a sparkling flash of light. With a heaving sigh, he ran his fingers through his bangs. He had a lot to think about.

Dragging the cloak with him, he sat down at his desk and let his head fall on top of the scattered blueprints and schematics with a thunk.

On the one hand, he’d never imagined he’d get the chance to be with Rapunzel like that, and it had been amazing. But any joy he might derive from the memory was tainted by his gnawing guilt at the false pretense those stolen moments had been under. And he still had to figure out what he was going to do when Rapunzel inevitably talked to Eugene…

A knock at the door nearly made Varian jump out of his skin, and he frantically stuffed the cloak under his desk, kicking it against the wall and nearly tripping as he scrambled from his seat. He’d locked the door this time, but it’d be suspicious if it took him too long to answer it.

“C-coming!” he called, heart pounding as he undid the lock and cracked open the door.

A cold sweat broke out on the back of Varian’s neck when he saw who it was.

“Rapunzel?” he squeaked, before clearing his throat and opening the door fully. “I mean uh, h-hi!”

“Hi Varian!” she grinned, then tilted her head as she took in his frazzled appearance. “Are you…busy?”

“Busy…um, no!” Varian stepped back and gestured for her to come inside, making a valiant effort to keep his hand from shaking as she moved past him. “What—” He paused, wetting his suddenly dry lips as he struggled to maintain eye contact. “What brings you here?”

“Well, I wanted to ask you something.” The princess twirled a strand of brunette hair in front of her ear while Varian held his breath, dreading her next words. “Earlier, I went on a date with Eugene and…he was acting kind of funny.”

Varian’s mouth went completely dry. She knew. 

“But,” Rapunzel continued, clearly not reading into Varian’s wide-eyed expression. “it turns out he was  just having indigestion from eating some bad fish for lunch.”

Varian’s fight or flight instinct had been about to kick into overdrive, but just like that it vanished, leaving him somewhat numb as he tried to comprehend this turn of events. “…what?”

“Yeah, I think he came here earlier to see if you could help him, but you weren’t around and I might have dragged him off before he could get something to fix it,” Rapunzel explained sheepishly. “So I was wondering…do you have anything that could help with an upset stomach?”

Varian blinked. “Upset stomach?” he echoed. That’s why she was here? Not to force him to give her an explanation for his actions, or chew him out for tricking her, or kick him out of the castle? “Uh I…don’t really do much with medicine, though I could probably whip something up if you need me to.”

It’d have to be something with no potency whatsoever, since he doubted Eugene—wherever he was—had actually had bad fish for lunch.

Rapunzel’s smile was dazzling. “Oh, thank you, Varian!” she said, grabbing his hand and giving it a quick squeeze that made the young alchemist’s heart flutter. Then she was out the door, giving him a lighthearted wave. “I’ll be back once I find where Eugene went!” And she was gone.

Varian slowly let out the breath he didn’t even know he’d been holding as he closed the door behind her. He meandered over to the cabinet where he kept his alchemical supplies, absentmindedly plucking a few colorful vials before moving to his workbench.

So he hadn’t been found out. And really, if nobody knew he had the cloak, they couldn’t possibly pin him as the fake Eugene, even if Eugene and Rapunzel did talk. But the thought of Rapunzel worrying about who the stranger in the boat had been, touching her, kissing her—Varian didn’t want to imagine the distress that would cause her.

…should he come clean? Before Eugene could confirm that he hadn’t been the one in the boat with Rapunzel?

The very idea made Varian’s gut twist into an anxious knot. Telling Rapunzel would keep her from worrying about being molested by a stranger, but would she forgive him? Be able to trust him again? Understand why, in his prolonged moment of weakness, he’d done it?

Well. She’d been able to forgive Cassandra but…somehow that felt different. Cassandra hadn’t tricked Rapunzel into kissing her. And he hadn’t had an ancient demon manipulating him.

The sound of squeaking door hinges jerked Varian from his spiraling thoughts, and he whirled around. Then he let out a sigh of relief when he saw it was just Ruddiger coming through the special door flap he’d installed for him. “Oh, it’s just you,” he breathed. Then he noticed the raccoon had something in his mouth, and he kneeled down to get a better look. Was that…an empty vial?

Ruddiger deposited the vial into his waiting hand, and Varian’s breath caught as he read the label.

Quirinian 2.0

Ironically, in his attempt to help Rapunzel’s parents regain their memories, he’d actually managed to create a weaker version of what the Quirinian was originally supposed to be: a memory-erase serum. The effects of the serum caused whoever drank it to forget everything they’d experienced in the last 24 hours. But since it didn’t help people regain their memories, and the king and queen had managed to remember their lives without his help anyway, he’d shelved the serum and moved on to other projects.

His eyes darted back to Ruddiger. “Did you…” He swallowed weakly, afraid of the answer. “Did you give this t-to Eugene?”

Ruddiger nodded, looking immensely pleased with himself.

Varian’s heart dropped. So this was why Eugene hadn’t shown up? Because he’d forgotten about the date altogether? Varian had no idea how recently they’d made their plans, but apparently it had been fairly impromptu, probably something they’d decided last night or this morning.

Oh no. Ruddiger must have interpreted his plea for help when Rapunzel had taken him from the lab as asking for help with the date, not getting out of it! No no no, he hadn’t wanted this!

“Ruddiger…no,” Varian said, his voice cracking as he clutched at his hair with both hands. “No, you went too far! I—” Slowly, his hands fell to his lap. “No…I went too far,” he admitted miserably.

Dimly, he was aware of Ruddiger’s concerned chitter, how his friend patted his leg in a gesture of comfort. But that left Varian to wonder just why he was so upset. Was it because he’d tricked Rapunzel? Broken her trust so he could live out a fantasy for a few hours? Indirectly drugged Eugene? Or was it because…

He swallowed thickly. Because he knew that he’d never experience that sort of happiness, that sort of thrill, with Rapunzel again?

Varian’s eyes darted to the cloak, and he chewed his lip, torn. There was a chance, just a small one, that he could experience that happiness again. But it wouldn’t be right. It wouldn’t be fair. To Rapunzel, to Eugene, to himself.

All he had to do was get rid of it and no one would ever know. Rapunzel might even blame the bad fish thing for Eugene’s memory. But…

Shaking his head, Varian tore his eyes away from the shimmering fabric. He shouldn’t even be tempted to use it again. He should just move on, cherish the memory of his short time with Rapunzel, let everything go back to the way it was.

But there was a dark, desperate part of himself that wanted to experience being with Rapunzel again, regardless of the cost...and it scared him. If he kept the cloak, the temptation would be too great.

He couldn’t let that happen. He’d made enough mistakes in his life—he had to get rid of the cloak before he made any more.

Resolve hardened, but afraid it wouldn’t last, Varian moved to where the cloak lay crumpled on the ground and snatched it up. “C’mon Ruddiger, let’s get rid of this thing.”

With a chitter of agreement, Ruddiger climbed to his shoulders and the alchemist strode from his lab to dispose of the magical cloak.

Not a moment after the door shut behind them, a high-pitched ‘ding’ echoed through the lab as the centrifuge machine came to a stop, and the spectrometric press hooked to it printed out two sheets of data.

The test results were ready.

[mor-beck-more-problems]

An In-Spectre Calls || Cassie and Morgan

Set before the potw. Morgan meets Cassie for the first time and asks for some slightly spooky help. 

There was something pathetic about drifting through Eye of Newt alone. Around Morgan teenage witches squealed over crystal balls and bundles of sage, handmade fliers for a Tarot Tuesday covered the table, taper candles of every color stared down their wicks at all the fuss, and so many purple spined books gleamed out from the shelves. It was all so curated, so proud, so...much nicer than the mess of wax and leaves around Morgan’s kitchen table where she made her own wares. Even Vera, Vera, could afford gilt labels for her smudge sticks. Bitch. Worst of all was knowing that few self respecting witches dared to roll the dice here. They had other, better outlets to send for. But Morgan had left a chunk of her self respect somewhere around trying to connect with her ancestors through a three dollar slice of birthday cake. And the shame of all this, re-stocking from her own competition, watching teenagers exercise more freedom and skill with their gel pens than she had bothered to muster lately--settled around her like the heaviest of blankets. At least if she was miserable, she was safe. Probably. 

And so Morgan lingered, bitterly taking mental notes on packaging and pining over books she would not be able to afford for another month or more (Vera saw right through any cash she tried to conjure, every time). She had almost tortured herself to the point of boredom when she spotted a familiar face. 

Oh. Oh no. Was this some kind of cosmic trick? Was that--the pro bono exorcist girl? The moon was still in Capricorn, so that was in her favor, and Friday was her lucky day, but having an expert fall into her lap, or at least someone else’s storefront, was not the kind of gift that generally came her way. Morgan stopped and stared at the girl more than was socially appropriate.

Fuck it. 

Morgan marched up to her, wares still in hand, and leaned over as unobtrusively as she could into her line of sight. She smiled brightly, too mystified at the possibility before her to contain herself. “Hi! This might be a really strange thing to say, but you’re--Cassie, right?” She lowered her voice. “Exorcist Cassie? I hear things around town. And the targeted ads in my mailbox are just--well, anyway, I could really use an expert’s help with summoning something. Someone.” 

If you couldn’t make your own grave dust store-bought was probably fine. Wincing at the price tag mark-up compared with the last place Cassie stopped at to stock up she scanned the rows of jars and tinctures for the last couple of ingredients that had been trashed in transit. Fresh out of ash and with no way to make the stuff without either looking like a serial killer or setting the smoke alarm off. Although, on second thought considering the place she was staying, whatever weirdness she brought with her was likely only the sixth strangest thing in that hotel. Speaking of, the four-dollar hole in her pocket was still stinging from shelling out for those Cheerios late last night. Next stop had to be for something that had actually seen the inside of an oven. With that thought in mind she guessed her next stop would be finding someplace to eat some point. The Thai place she passed last night seemed like a good bet.

Like most of its sister stores around the country this place might have been full of wishful thinkers, but maybe there were a couple things that could do in a pinch. Either way she was limited on options and she doubted there’d be anywhere else offering anything any different. Stooping down to read the price tag of a jar of black salt that caught her attention she registered another person in the vicinity. Assuming it was the owner stopping by she straightened up from her crouch by the jars to stand at full height and grabbed up a jar, about to ask if she had anything a little more specific when she registered her name being mentioned followed by the familiar hushed tones, exorcist. That caught her attention as she seemed to peer over at her interestedly. She seemed earnest enough. It was the eagerness that surprised her. Word got around fast, real fast. Anywhere else the whole thing, the whole business really, was a clandestine operation. The routine, ‘Hey thanks for your services, but get out and let’s never speak of this again’ followed by a swift exit was the norm. Not here though. Here it was practically encouraged almost.

“Uh, yeah. That would be me,” she nodded uncertainty, eyeing the store inventory she was holding. “A summoning? You mean to, you know, deal with something?” It was easy to get lost in translation so she tried to follow it with a gesture that she hoped implied giving the boot, “then I can check into it, sure.”

Morgan couldn’t believe her luck. A real exorcist. A real, helpful, exorcist. She bounced on her feet, resisting the urge to clap her hands with excitement. “I thought I recognized your face! And, whew, that would have been really embarrassing otherwise, accosting some poor random person with words like  ‘exorcist’ and ‘summoning.’” Was she being funny? The image played hilariously in her mind in a terrible sort of way: the total lack of understanding on the stranger’s face, the painfully awkward attempts at saving face. After so many big setbacks, the reach of this stupid, strupid curse, Morgan found herself hard pressed to believe in lucky breaks or happy cooincidences. 

(Did that mean her plan was doomed? Oh god, it might be doomed)

“Oh, but, not like--” she mimicked Cassie’s gesture, growing red and speckled with anxiety. Maybe she should have stayed home and brooded over her hot glue gun situation in quiet isolation instead. Sure,  her cat would have still given her judgement eyes from her nest in the bookshelf, but that wouldn’t be half so bad as having this blow up in her face. But like a bad piece of gum on your shoe, Morgan stuck and kept talking. 

“I mean, I’ll want them, you know,” She gestured again, “Eventually. But first I want to bring something here. After I’ve gotten the information I need, it should probably go back to wherever, I guess,  but I need to get someone first.” 

If Morgan had only sensed the ghost judging her from behind, she might have appreciated how funny her request already was, Cassie’s help or not. 

Cassie tilted her head a little, “right,” she nodded with a small laugh. “Hell of an icebreaker, right?” She offered. “Either that or they’d just tell you to call in Zak Bagans,” she mock grimaced.

She watched as Morgan repeated the gesture, still trying to wrap her head around the request.  Okay, so she did mean summoning something, inviting it. It wasn’t totally unheard of, trying to make contact. Mostly for any lingerers that were already there, but actually folding out the welcome mat? That was still a new one, but she still felt that pang of curiosity that something like that would even work, or why anybody would even want it to. 

I need to get someone first.

Looks like you already got them, she mused not unkindly, finally acknowledging the second shadow nearby. Cassie hadn’t made eye contact with the figure lurking in the background until then, but when she did it made her stop in her tracks for a second. They were there alright, but weak. Whoever they were, she couldn’t make anything out past the general humanoid shape and occasional incline of their head as they listened in. Like they were stuck in some halfway point. Weird.

They were here, but they weren’t thrilled about it, but what else was new? Cassie gave them a look that she hoped implied later and turned her attention back to Morgan as she weighed up the options. What were the chances here that whatever she said she was going to do it anyway? Pretty high she was willing to bet. Putting the jar back on the shelf decidedly, “you know what...sure,” she agreed. “I mean mostly I’m there pointing out the exit sign, “she admitted, “but can’t hurt to be around. Let you know if you’re getting warmer”, and to step in in the off chance the invisible man back there had any ideas she added after a second glance. 

“Hell of an icebreaker, right?” She offered. “Either that or they’d just tell you to call in Zak Bagans,” she mock grimaced.

“Just ‘little white crest things,’ huh?” Morgan replied with a laugh. “I do promise I’m not like this all the time. Sometimes I say things like how are you, and, I don’t know--what nice, normal weather we’re having!”

This was...nice. Almost fun. Morgan began to sweat behind her ears at the thought Fun was the sort of thing she felt she had to trick her way into. Fun was the kind of feeling that hatched big, wild bursts of ‘come and get me while my back is turned you lousy curse’ energy. And, Christ on a cracker, wasn’t she getting ahead of herself? She was talking with Cassie about what amounted to a work thing, not about making friendship bracelets, or going to the Sadie Hawkins dance. Not exactly the stuff of tragedies, even in her own family tree. Could be safe. And if she had managed to shake certain doom for awhile, and since it was doomed to catch up, maybe she should hold it together and enjoy the reprieve. Pretend to be a less disastrous version of herself until later. Hopefully much later. After they found Agnes. 

When Cassie agreed to help, Morgan reigned in the impulse to tackle her with relief. “Thank you, so much! You are amazing, and I will compensate you...somehow. I know conjuring money is pretty high on the questionable morality spectrum, but I can also fix things! If it’s in the broken vase category and not the complicated mechanical one, I can definitely fix it. Or with the right material I can make you something really nice. But, again, not too complicated. I’ve spent more time at the archive than my old alchemy books lately, so. And, drinks, or several, burgers even.” Morgan could feel herself running too fast away from her personal disasters. So fast she almost missed what Cassie added, quietly, as not to set any alarms. Invisible man? What? 

It shattered Morgan’s loop of thought and made her go rigid. She cast her gaze back, head-turning slowly. What did Cassie mean? Invisible? Was she being followed? Maybe she had triggered something in the universe and now she was going to watch this blow up in her face before she’d even started. This might be how she died-- 

Morgan looked. Nothing. Not even a shadow. Then again, that might be the whole point of ‘invisible.’ She turned back to Cassie, suddenly feeling like they needed to get somewhere not in the shop. “Um...what do you mean invisible man?” She whispered. “Like...with some kind of glamour? Or--” It came on her so slowly because until now it had seemed laughably impossible. “Do you mean a GHOST?” She squeaked.

“No kidding,” she laughed, “been here a couple days but this place…it’s something else,” she had to admit. Understatement of the new decade, twenty-four hours in and she felt like she had enough for most of her co-workers to have a field day out here. Difference was, for the most part, she had ethics. “Oh hey, no need. I have a day job,” she waved the offers of compensation off, “you’re good.” The day she accepted cash or handouts for this kind of thing would be the day—wait conjuring cash? At some point, she’d have to ask about that-about all of that, but one thing at a time.

Cassie saw the look that crossed Morgan’s expression and frowned for a second in confusion. It was only after the words were out of her mouth that she realized she’d said that last part out loud and immediately felt like backtracking. Shit, way to scare the crap out of them. She could practically see the alarm bells going off in Morgan’s head. Part of her wanted to bluff, tell her she meant as in the general sense but thought better of it. Better not to start off on a lie. It never ended well.

“Okay so, you’ve got one visitor,” she admitted tentatively, “but you’ve got nothing to worry about, they don’t look like much of a threat.” Cassie cast another glance at them as they continued to hover around nearby like a bad smell. Was that an incline of their head at that last comment? “This’d be a very different conversation if there was, trust me.” She hoped that might take a little of the edge off of it. “I’m free today, least I’ve got nothing much planned. I can stop by, deal with the mystery guest over there, try and get contact properly,” figure out if they’re who you’re looking for,” figure out what they wanted and how they even got there like that she added to herself. The longer she looked at the figure the weirder it got. For a second she thought she saw a pair of eyes take shape before they flickered out again. Interesting. “Or if you wanted to wait,” she blinked and brought her attention back to Morgan, “I can hand over some things to keep them out of your hair for a while give you my cell number and you can text me an address or something. Whichever works.” Cassie pulled her cell out from her pocket and opened her bag out to look for what was left her the black salt but came up empty-handed, “crap, the last of it’s in the car,” she murmured and picked the jar of the stuff she was about to buy again and raised her eyebrows at the price tag. Wow, not for forty dollars I’m not. “This stuff keeps them away,” she lifted the jar back up before putting it back down again. “I have some in the car, but regular salt works, just doesn’t last as long.”

 “Are you sure?” Morgan pressed. “You’re kind of doing me a big favor…” But Cassie seemed pretty sure of her stance. Morgan couldn’t figure out why. There had to be loads of people who would pay a lot for help like this. Now that the weight of making up for her services was off Morgan’s chest, she could admit she would have pushed her powers to limit to make this happen. Why wouldn’t you try and get something out of the deal?

But Morgan didn’t have time to think about this because of what Cassie said next. You’ve got one visitor. She had really done it. Maybe? Hopefully. “A visitor,” she repeated, dumbfounded. “A ghost kind of visitor, following me around.” What if it was Agnes? Or one of Agnes’ children? Morgan looked back over her shoulder again, just in case willpower alone could bring it into her sight and understanding. When looked back at Cassie, her face was glowing with held back excitement.

“I need to find out who it is,” she said quietly. “In case it’s who I’m looking for. But the other stuff would be good too. This maybe-kind-of isn’t my first time trying this, just the first time that it’s worked.” She looked at the salt jar Cassie Hefted and made a mental note to up her game in that area. Forty dollars for a little jar. Maybe she should start charging more for her candles; this family quest was getting expensive. “I’d like to see the kind of salt you roll with,” she added lightly. “I’ve been using mom’s old kosher salt, but that was before I knew I should be upgrading. What’s in your mix that makes it different? And, would it be unprofessional if I hugged you right now?”

“Just the one,” Cassie repeated as if that would somehow make it any better. “They’re hard to make out though, which means either they’re weaker, like they’re new or they’re on the out.” Another glance towards the mystery figure and she was sure she picked up the indignation coming off from their stance alone. “Okay. If I can get some stuff from the car, find somewhere quiet I can try and get a read on them. Figure out if this is your guy.” Cassie’s eyes followed Morgan’s gaze back to the discarded jar, “it’s different for everybody, but I like a mix. A little rock salt-any salt really-” she added quickly on review, “some chalk and some Obit ashes mixed in there. Helps with the ‘ashes to ashes part’ it’s not the main focus though. The main part is the words and the intent that’s there." Morgan seemed so enthusiastic and hopeful, she hoped she wasn’t setting her up for a loss. She could do it, hazy figure aside, but actually summoning something was still out of her wheelhouse. She just hoped she wasn’t about to be a let down. Cassie thought for a moment before answering, “maybe save it for when we actually ID your friend, or at least get some contact on line one.”

Morgan took out her phone and made notes as Cassie explained her salt recipe. There was a cemetery near the Traveler’s Rest, should be easy to come by the ashes. She didn’t trust her alchemy-brewed stuff to do the trick, not when it came to warding off whatever had come out of that cake. Morgan didn’t know much about what she was getting into, but she was aware she had passed the ‘in over your head’ signpost few miles behind packing up her life and moving to White Crest. 

She settled for a thumbs up at Cassie instead of the hug. “Too soon, got it,” she said, laughing it off. “But it’s not about the success. I mean, success would be great, obviously, but I’ve been at this--for good reason!--for three years now, and this is the first time I’ve gotten, like, help from anyone. Even if you have to go back to your very expert drawing board, I’m still appreciative. Really.” Something in her sombered at the truth in those words, three years banging her head against her laptop, three years trying to get out of bed, trying not to derail her life anymore than this stupid curse already had. Three years and now she was at the zero hour. Of course she was grateful for even the illusion of progress. What did she have left to lose this year except her life anyway? Her shitty jobs? But that wasn’t the right mindset. Think positive. Move forward. She pepped herself up and headed for the door. “So! Let’s go figure this out!”

Mulling over what Morgan had said. About this being the first time anybody had offered some actual help rankled a little. If you could kick them out it stood to reason there was a way to call them up. It might actually be useful for a few things. Maybe if they were lucky whoever she was trying to get hold of was actually still around, strange as that was to say considering, they could actually make contact. “Three years?” Cassie felt her eyebrows raise involuntarily at that information. “Well, least you’ve got it now, the help I mean. If at first you don’t succeed get mad and try again,” she joked. Even if this didn’t go down well first time around, she had a more than a little healthy curiosity at the idea of something like that actually working. “You must really need this guy for something.” Not about to pry, but you didn’t spend that time trying over something trivial. Following Morgan’s lead and heading outside and back out towards where her car was parked Cassie took out her keys and grabbed the duffle bag out from the trunk and draped it over one shoulder. She shifted the weight a little and used her free hand and lifted up a piece of the padding covering the spare tyre space. “One second. I just need a couple things.” Cassie grabbed up a few loose items and stuffed them inside the bag, “this might help identify Mr Mysterio. Get a better signal and figure out if this is your guy.” Closing the trunk over again she turning back to Morgan with a smile. “Okay, and we’re all set. Lead the way.”  

“L-lead the way,” Morgan repeated, hoping that repetition would rattle something into place. “To the ghost place, that--would make sense.” She began to walk in the general direction of the traveler’s rest. “But, it’s really interesting you should say that. Because, there’s my room at the Traveler’s Rest where I do most things right now, and there’s Al’s where I did the spell. Or I think I did.” Her cheeks were growing hot again. This had all seemed reasonable, even expected in the moment, but preparing to say it out loud, she suddenly felt like an idiot. “I’m working from scratch with this, but there was a spell on google that seemed to have a familiar structure to it, and I picked the right day, I checked the moon, and all that for maximum potency. But, there might have been...cake involved. And admittedly, that seemed like an interesting ask for a request from the beyond. I don’t know if I should take you to the spot where it happened, or if we just need to duck into my room so the muggles won’t stare at us since they’re supposed to be drawn to me and not the place?” Her voice rose higher as she spoke, struggling to maintain the very logical order of planning she had taken the trouble of going to. “Anyways, it’s...all the same direction. Just a little more--this way. And I can pull up the spell, if that helps.” 

“That’s where I live-well, I don’t live there. I’m staying there, or I have a room there anyway.” Cassie wasn’t staying here she reminded herself. It was temporary like everywhere else. “That works,” she looked back over at Morgan with a nod, “or if you wanted somewhere more out in the open, there’s Al’s.” That one was the least favourite option. She hated an audience to this stuff. Growing up it was something to be buried away, not broadcast in public. It was hard to get out of that way of thinking. Old habits died hard that way. “Not sure what the rules are for summoning ghosts in the diner though. Might be a no shirt, no shoes, ghosts, no service,” she joked. Cake? Wait, how did cake figure into it? Okay, that was a question for a little later. Not the time. There was her least favourite word in this kind of context; Google. Hypocritical as that was, she’d done the same thing back before she put her foot down with her parents and got someone that actually knew what they were doing to step in. Ray was a cantankerous jerk that first day, but he knew his stuff. Saved her getting fried anyway. “Google kind of sucks for anything with ghosts. First removal invocation I looked up there had a chunk of it missing,” she admitted. “I was twenty-two and stupid,” she made a brief grimace, “good thing I asked somebody else or I wouldn’t be talking to you. Looks like something might’ve worked, don’t think your friend has been hanging around here all that long. What did this spell on google look like?” Cassie asked, curious now. Maybe it was some sort of banishment circle gone wrong, like they’d copied it wrong, got the opposite effect. Who knew at this point. 

“Yeah, I guess it’s hard to call that living, huh?” Morgan said. “Home-sweet-not-home it is.” They continued the journey together, and Morgan told her everything she could about the spell. She had recognized one of the sigls as something she’d seen in an invocation book. She couldn’t remember what the book had said it was for exactly, but the sighting had given her hope. The plan had been to harness the energy of familiarity to reach out to other spirits who had that energy in common. So, her birthday, the land where the people she was looking for had lived, and a birthday cake, which commemorated the continuation of her family. A little fire, a few words, a little saliva to create a taste of life and boom, call made, familial tether climbed, ancestors summoned. She hadn’t noticed or felt anything different at the time. She had assumed she had done something wrong, or supernatural google wasn’t quite on par with her needs as she’d hoped. She showed Cassie a screenshot and went on. She was trying to get in touch with some ancestors. She had some unfinished business with them, funny, right? Only her magical department wasn’t so much in parting the veils or whatever as it was turning stuff into different stuff. As they neared the Traveler’s Rest, she fished around in her pocket for her old set of keys. She plopped them onto her pop socket and gestured. The keys shaped themselves into a metal cuff, a robot figurine. She made it float before coaxing the metal back into keys again. “Neat, right?”

Morgan’s things were splayed all over her room, two large suitcases worth, seemingly made larger by the cramped space. Morgan cleared a spot in the middle of the floor. “I have some Arizona Tea in the mini fridge if you want any. But why not first things first? How do we talk to my visitor friend?” 

They were keys. They were keys and then they weren’t and then they were in the air. Then they were keys again and that’s the moment life stopped making sense for a second.

Neat, right?

That was one word for it. Cassie couldn’t even nod, just stood there in stunned silence and stared at the keys in Morgan’s hand as she opened the door out and stepped inside. Talking about that kind of thing was once thing, but seeing it in front of her? Whole different ball game. “…Sounds-sounds, yeah,” she found herself saying, her voice sounding a little far away. Reality snapped back again with a bang and she remembered what she was even there for. Right, focus. The way Morgan had been talking and judging from the picture she saw it sounded more and more like a variation of a banishment circle. An inverted one maybe. First thing was first, making contact.

“Oh, that part’s easy,” right, get it together. The solution to that particular snag was simple. “One second,” Cassie dug out a pen and a scrap of paper and scrawled down the alphabet and placed it on the nearest flat surface she could find. “Just needed some quiet first.”

Thank you Stranger Things, Cassie stepped back and addressed the mystery guest, “if you want to just point to tell me what your-” she didn’t get to finish that sentence before the figure darted to the paper and the pen laying beside it. They jabbed their hand in an attempt to move the Biro and watched as they seemed to grow frustrated in their attempts. Wow, they really were weak. Usually most ghosts could conjure up just enough energy to move a biro a couple centimetre across a page for all of ten seconds. “Or, if you want, you can just point. If it’s easier,” seemed they took that as a challenge and the pen started to shift, “…Okay,” she gestured, giving the go-ahead and waited as they pointed over to each letter.

W.A.N.T….F.R...

Cassie turned back to Morgan once she figured out the gist of it. “They want to know what you want,” when they started up again.

L.E.T.G.O

Oh. Fuck. Morgan took all of her attempts to get in touch with the dead very seriously, it was kind of a matter of life and death at this point, but whatever she had hoped for at the end of each attempt, it didn’t look anything like this. Cassie was sitting with a freaking piece of paper from a notebook and a ballpoint pen, nothing special or consecrated, just practical. And it was moving. Moving all by itself. It was shaking, like the hand holding it was too upset or too weak to hold it together properly. Morgan shifted away from it on the floor. Seeing this invisible force want things, demand things, show--feeling made her uncomfortable in a way she didn’t want to unpack. Wasn’t that what they had always been? And what did it really change about what she needed anyway?

“Um, okay,” she breathed, keeping her voice steady with effort. “That’s nice. Good to know. Sorry you’ve been...here, for so long. But I am going to need some information from you first before we can do that. Okay?” She squared her shoulders back and tried to adopt the kind of voice she used on her freshmen college students. “Now, who are you? What’s your name?”

Watching Morgan move away from the sheet of paper as though it was contagious Cassie realised, she had forgotten how this kind of thing might look to an outsider. What was grade school stuff to her was the stuff of nightmares to somebody else. She recognised that weird waxy looking shade Morgan had paled to and Should’ve just asked them to point. Tell, don’t show this time.

Cassie offered Morgan a look of encouragement as the mystery guest responded, Floor’s all your,s and looked over to their guest who listened and inclined their head as if they were studying her. They folded their arms over for a few moments before answering as thought they were a few moments away from doing the opposite and b an ass. Cassie shot them a look and looked at Morgan again then as the pen began to move again. A lot less stable than before as they slowly spelled the words out.

S.E.A.N…B.A.C.H.M.A.N

Okay, now they were getting somewhere. They had a name. “This your guy?” Cassie asked. She still didn’t understand what she did, but recognising that whatever it was it had worked somehow.

...E.T....G.O…C.A.L.L.E.D…H.E.R.E…..A.P.O.L.O.G.I.Z

Cassie frowned at that last message and now it was her turn to look at the figure, Sean, she corrected herself, her head inclining. 

“Ooh! Sean! You’re Agnes’ nephew, right? Your dad was named Abel?” Not who Morgan was looking for, not even close, and she shook her head at Cassie in a sheepish universal signal of ‘close but no cigar.’ Still, she felt an electric rush of excitement. This was more direct contact than she’d gotten...ever. Ever-ever. The rest of his message was a lot more puzzling. Who was apologizing? Sean hadn’t done anything wrong, at least not that she’d dug up yet. “We’ll get to that Sean, but I’m wondering if you know anything about your aunt? If she...kept a secret book of magic maybe? Or if you saw her, or heard maybe…” Fuck it. “If you heard of her doing something bad enough that might make someone curse our whole family?” She felt cold all over and out of breath just from asking. She’d been nosing around ancestry sites and state records for so long, she had picked up her whole life, she had pestered Cassie in the middle of a shop, all for this, all without putting her finger on the big, awful magic button of a reason. And having to ask it out loud now, even in the most common sense of ways frustrated Morgan. It was a reminder that there was a chance the answer might be no. Maybe the afterlife had turned Sean’s memory to custard, or he just hadn’t been the kind of kid to overhear rumor. “Anything, Sean?” She pressed. “Be honest.”

Success? Cassie looked over expectantly and clocked the expression on Morgan’s face and felt her shoulders slump slightly. No, crap. That had to sting. So close, she actually had somebody here and judging by the look that passed her features they’d missed the mark by a few miles.

I’m wondering if you know anything about your aunt?

 Y.E.S

The pen continued to move and while Cassie had next to zero to compare this it seemed like who Morgan had got hold sounded like they were a family member. Close, right? Cassie sat back and kept watch and listened as Morgan reached out to Sean. Her eyes darted up again at Morgan’s words at the end there. Eyebrows raised in concern. Cursed?

…O.W…D.A.R.E...

 “Just answer the question and you can be on your way. Come on, man.” It was round about then that Sean decided to have a temper tantrum and managed to tear the paper a few centimetres in his answer. It seemed to take it out of him. She saw him fade further and stop .“I think he wore himself out with that one.” It was a while before he summoned up the energy to fade back to view again.

…T.E.L.L….Y.O.U….N.O.T.H.I

The light on one of the bedside tables clinked and the TV switched on and off for a second at that outburst.

….R.E.L.E.A.S.E….ME…

What a baby. “Spooky. Very good,” Cassie shook her head and spoke in a deadpan tone. “I know you’re pissed but don’t be an ass, Sean, or we’re going to have a problem.”

Morgan clenched her fists in her lap to keep from shaking. This was getting very real, very quickly, and somehow not at all fulfilling in the way she’d hoped. The paper was making noises all by itself, and it was one thing to look away from the screen when things started getting weird in The Conjuring, but something else entirely when the jump scare was right in front of your face. There was nowhere to go from this. Morgan looked behind her and saw the TV flickering, like some five year old on a sugar high was going crazy with the switch, and the tables were rattling louder without anyone being there. Morgan’s eyes had been stretched open long enough to tear up. She was sure if she closed them she’d make up some excuse for what she was seeing, she’d try to tell herself that this was wrong and definitely impossible. But the only thing scarier than seeing this happen, was to never see it happen. Fuck. 

“Sean, you asshole! Cut it out!” She screamed over the noise. “You tell me what you know!”

But Sean was not remotely interested. Morgan felt down in her pocket to the salt stash she had and threw it near the paper. 

“You wanna stay here forever, Sean?” She asked. “Because I don’t give a shit if you’re stuck with me forever, okay! You can throw a fit all year for all I care, got it? So spit it out already!”

Cassie shot Sean’s general figure an exasperated look and turned to Morgan and frowned in confusion. Where was he getting this idea he wasn’t free to go here? She really wasn’t about to enlighten them any time soon. Looking at Morgan just as the ‘I want to speak to the manager theatrics’ flared up again she saw Morgan glance around looking rattled. Crap. She knew that look. Cassie saw the clenched fists and shot her a worried look.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Cassie reached over but paused when she realised then that it wasn’t all fear there. There was some anger bubbling under the surface and stopped, sitting back down beside the paper. “Just some grade school level theatrics. He couldn’t blow the fuse on a lightbulb,” Cassie shot Sean a glare. Was it really so hard for the douche to just give Morgan what she wanted so they could just drop kick him back to the beyond like he wanted here? “And if you do, I’m going to have some words you’re not going to like.” Turned out the reassurance really wasn’t needed here. Morgan was holding her own. More than; she was outright making demands, tossing salt she didn’t even remember she had on her at the paper. Fast learner.

You can throw a fit all year for all I care, got it? So spit it out already

“What she said,” Cassie shrugged and looked for a second at the salt Morgan had just tossed in Sean’s general direction, “and if she thinks about throwing any more of that there’s not a damn thing I’m doing to do to stop her. I’ll tell her where to aim. Your call.”

S.K….C.O.N.S.T.A.N.C.E…L.E.A.V.E….M.E

The pen moved, with urgency then, spelling out a name. Now, that wasn’t to hard, was it?

Morgan came back to herself with Cassie’s agreement, what she said. Oh. Shit. She’d really let loose there. Threatened her ancestor, even if he was kind of a dick, wasted some salt aiming at whichever part of the air had looked most threatening. Cassie, for her part, didn’t seem too upset about her seasoning the ghost, and Morgan didn’t know what to make of that, except that she would have to explain a lot more about her situation than she’d had to in a long time. But that could wait. Hopefully. Sean was telling them about...someone named Constance. Morgan couldn’t remember how she fit into her family story off the top of her head. Was she Constance’s mother? Her daughter? It was right on the edge of her recall, but she couldn’t reach it. But it was better than nothing. 

“Fine,” she said flatly. “Fine, go.” She still had some salt in her hand and threw it again. “Fuck you anyway, though. And tell Constance I’m coming for her.” She turned to Cassie for help, holding her sweater close around her chest, flushed with embarrassment.

Cassie watched as Morgan threw the remainder of salt in her hand towards the paper again, but something strange happened in the seconds before the salt even went airborne. Cassie didn’t get the chance to even start to send him away. There second Morgan uttered the word go the ghost that was formerly known as Sean zapped out like an old television. Blipped back to the void as if being pulled back somewhere. “That was new,” was all she could manage then with raised eyebrows. “He’s already gone,” she clarified, shaking herself out of it. What the hell was that?

“Okay,” she spoke again eventually as the quiet descended. “I have no idea what you did,” she admitted, still processing, “but that’s uh, that’s different.” Understatement, the air shifted, she felt that much. Swore she heard a faint popping sound as they went. “Did you get what you wanted? Sort of anyway? A name is a start, right?” Cassie shifted back and let out a breath. “So, um, walk me through what you did here, with the circle. Maybe we can get somebody else.”

Morgan flopped back on the floor when Cassie said he was gone. She didn’t know how she could tell, and without anything to tell by she almost didn’t believe it. This...this was good, right? This was progress...in that it was more ghost she’d spoken to in her whole life, certainly more than she had gotten out of any of her magic experiments. She would have to find out who Constance was, what she had to with all this. Agnes had been the one everyone talked about, but maybe she was just the baby monster. Oh god, if this was going to turn into a Grendel’s Mother situation-- Morgan put her head in her hands and breathed out long and hard. One thing at a time. “I um...I can send you the stuff. I have the webpage saved, but I don’t know if I can do it again, without some meaningful date and a new moon, or maybe not, maybe that was bullshit…” she was mumbling, half in a daze, as she pawed around the messy floor for her computer. She pulled it up and sent it to Cassie’s account on the town social media network. Handy, that. She stood up and dusted off a whole lot of nothing off her jeans. “I got something alright!” She said, scrambling to put her smile back on. “Thank you for helping on short notice. You’re really nice, and I’ll find a way to make it up somehow. Maybe when, um, the adrenaline is a little, uh, less, we can figure something out.” Or not. Cassie seemed like she might make a good shortcut through the mess, but she might also be fast-tracking herself into the danger zone. But if it meant not running from herself anymore, maybe it would be worth it anyway.