Light It Up (Burn It Down), 2/? (2016-03-06)

Ben doesn’t mention the blue rose until Chip catches him staring at the magic mirror. And, given Chip’s history with floating magical flowers, his reaction is completely justified.

“I’m fine!” Ben protests as Chip bodily hauls him to the Fairy Godmother.

“Tell that to my porcelain childhood!” Chip yells back, panic making his word choice odd but no less accurate.

By the time Fairy Godmother gets to her office, she is greeted to the sight of her king being held in a headlock by his bodyguard. She smiles, even though this is not the first time she’s seen such a thing.

The situation quickly become serious, however, when the topic matter is explained to her.

“I’m not going to be losing my limbs any time soon, am I?” Chip asks, though what he’s really asking is if this curse is the same as the one from his childhood.

Fairy Godmother examines the magic mirror, the image it contains, and her brow furrows in concentration and concern.

“It’s not the same, that much I know for sure,” she says slowly, as if carefully laying down the foundation for something huge she doesn’t even know of, “Roses were never really my specialty, and curses even less so, but I have been researching ever since the jewelry store robbery…” She purses her lips, “I’ll let you know what I find. Until then… for how long has this been going on?”

“Ten days,” Ben says, and immediately gets an indignant glare from Chip.

“Well, since then only the first petal has fallen, correct?”

“Yes,” Ben nods, and only feels the slightest twinge of worry when the Fairy Godmother doesn’t say anything in response to that.

“I’ll hold on to this for now,” she says instead, gesturing at the mirror, and not so subtly dismissing them.

Ben, despite being her king, was also once her student, so he leaves. And where he goes, Chip follows.

The thing about most curses is that they are fairly easy to undo–but only under very specific parameters. The more powerful the curse, the simpler the cure… and vice versa.

But she doesn’t know what this is. As far as she can tell, nothing has happened to Ben–yet–or to anyone else.

Unless the rose is meant to throw her off the right track. Have her make the obvious connection between this spell and the one that afflicted Ben’s father–wasting her time trying to undo one curse only for it to turn out to be another.

The petals must mean something, though. Maybe not a countdown to escalation but a countdown to activation. Something with such a long activation time would surely be incredibly strong.

In which case… an activation of what, exactly? And what triggers a petal falling?

Before she can research the answers, the image in the mirror changes. Gone is the rose; replacing it is a painted stone wall with a question of its own:

“Who did Laurette Bibeau hurt?”

She brings the mirror to Ben, who reads the question and is immediately alarmed. Considering the last one led to a murder investigation, it makes sense to expect the worse.

Captain de Châteaupers is eager to jump on it, even with so little to go on–it must be galvanizing to see the perpetrator of his last case walk free even with all the impeccable detective work and evidence against Chad Charming.

Still, even determination and skill does not make up for the lack of information on Laurette Bibeau, much less her possible unknown victim. The Knight hits a dead end within the week–the only Bibeau is an old bar in a small village in the outskirts of the capitol.

Ben checks the mirror obsessively, worriedly–if a failed conviction caused a petal to fall, what would a stalled investigation?

Thankfully, a lead appears. From the queen, in fact, visiting her son for their biweekly lunch. He tells her about the question–but not the curse–more as a way to vent than anything else, so it’s surprising when Belle solves it.

“Laurette Bibeau?” She responds in surprise, “I haven’t heard that name in years.”

Ben stares at his mother in shock, “You know who she is?”

“I did grow up with her after all. She and her sisters were the only other girls my age in our village,” Belle explains with a small nostalgic smile, “We weren’t that close, but I know none of them would hurt anyone,” She pauses, considering, “The triplets did have terrible taste in men, but in their defense, it was a very small village.”

Ben squints in confusion, “I don’t understand,” he has no idea where this is going.

“Well, all of them wanted to marry Gaston when we were younger,” at this point, Belle’s mouth twists into a frown, “Of course, only Laurette actually succeeded.”

“Where is she now?”

His mother looks at him, incredibly sad, “She married Gaston,” she says, instead, as if that were answer enough.

In a way, it is.

Ben sits in his study, head propped up in his hands, staring blankly at the magic mirror on his desk. The sky has already gone dark, but he has yet to turn on the lights in his room. Only the low gleam emitting from the mirror illuminates the room.

He’s already passed the information on to the captain–who will continue his investigation out of professionalism by finding and interviewing the remaining two triplets–but Ben is quite certain as to what he will find: nothing.

Laurette Gaston née Bibeau has hurt nobody, that’s the point. She’s hurt no one and yet she was exiled to the Isle of the Lost because of who she married.

“Why are you asking me these things?” Ben asks futilely, fingers pulling at his hair in frustration, “Why are you making me do this?”

It’s rhetorical, of course, Ben knows why. The kingdom of Auradon is imperfect, it’s justice system clearly flawed, and these questions are making him confront these facts. Who better to correct these problems than the king? But no child wants to know this about his inheritance, about the home he grew up in.

The mirror does not answer him.

“Laurette Bibeau hurt no one,” he says, then watches in fascination as the image wavers and changes, like the reflection on the surface of moving water.

“So what?” the mirror asks, flippant and cruel and goading.

Ben is confused, startled–what does that even mean?

“So,” he begins, “if she wants to return to Auradon, then I can arrange it.”

The image flickers and twists, back to the blue rose. Another petal falls.

“No, wait!” Ben says, “What did I do wrong? What do you want?”

Again, the mirror does not answer him. He resists the urge to throw it against the wall.

Four days later, after the latest Isle barge run, Princess Melody visits Ben in person, bearing a package.

“Normally, I’d say something about how I don’t appreciate being a delivery person. But I think for this I’ll make an exception,” she sets the box on Ben’s desk and steps back, looking away to give him privacy as he unpacks it. Which he appreciates when the contents become clear.

Inside is an urn. The plaque reads: Laurette Gaston née Bibeau, Beloved Wife and Mother.

Date of death, three years ago.

Ben thinks maybe he understands why the second petal fell.


A/N: This took me a very long time. So I don’t feel guilty about being ten minutes late for my daily post 😛

Also, in case you didn’t catch it, Laurette is one of the three “Bimbettes” (aka the three swooning blonde sisters) from the Beauty and the Beast movie. Why did I choose Laurette? Well, just use the search function on the wiki page and read about her. SHE WAS CLEARLY THE MOST AMBITIOUS AND CUNNING OF ALL THREE SISTERS. Why did I choose Bibeau as their last name? Well, I basically looked up French surnames, went to the part of the list that started with “Bi” and found one that means ‘heavy drinker’ and considering they’re apparently waitresses at the village tavern it seemed to suit.

Anyway, hope you enjoyed 😀

(Still no Carlos yet–sorry about that @walker2702)

A Tale of Two Kingdoms, part 9/11 (2015-08-24)

There’s something almost electrifying in the air, and it has nothing to do with cauldron’s inert energy. Ben stares, letting his eyes adjust: purple-haired Mal, blue-haired Evie, and Jay whose biceps probably are the size of his head. Carlos’ friends.

None of them move, a sense of astonishment on all sides making them pause and take it in. Mal, Evie, and Jay reveling in the fact of finally being home, Ben in the success of having completed his quest.

Then Evie hisses sharply, a gloved hand rising to her temple, “Carlos,” she breathes, as if in pain. “He needs us now.”

“Time to go,” Mal says brusquely, stepping towards the shore.

Ben–unaware of what exactly is going on, but reacting to both Mal’s order and the thought of Carlos needing help–follows her, Chip trailing behind him.

“Lagan! Derelict!” Jay calls out, and the eels sway in the water almost playfully at their names, before disappearing.

They come back, moments later, with a rickety but water-worthy dinghy. The girls climb in first, Jay keeping it steady before he climbs in as well. Ben and Chip join them, though not without a mild complaint from the latter, “There was a boat this entire time?”

Some force, whether magic or eels, begins pushing the dinghy through the water, back towards the inhabited part of the Isle.

“None of us can swim,” Jay says with a casual shrug, almost challenging someone to say anything about it, before his face twists and he adds, “Well–”

“Uri could,” Evie sighs, hand still against her temple, “He was teaching Jemma before the… before.”

Before the ritual. Before the kaiju. Before his death.

“What happened?” Ben asks, before realizing how that might be misconstrued, “I mean, it’s been over a year since you disappeared. Where were you?”

The other three teenagers look at each other, a silent conversation passing between them through facial expressions alone.

Mal is the one to look him in the eye and answer.

The pilot suits are strangely comfortable, Carlos thinks. Not that they’re designed to be uncomfortable, just that he would have expected the weight of the armored plates and sensors to be heavier. If anything, he feels free.

There are no crossbones on his suit.

“We have a match,” the drift analyst says solemnly. But everything about this situation would instill solemnity, so Carlos doesn’t take offense.

Some of the techs, the ones not up in the control room, the ones on the ground prepping the third jaeger–Carlos’ soon to be jaeger–hiss and murmur to each other. Relieved, but uncertain.

“Who is it?” he asks, when nothing else seems to be forthcoming.

“Dreda Tremaine,” the analyst states, so carefully, so hesitantly, that Carlos knows something is up even before the other techs burst into loud denials.

“Quiet,” the head of the jaeger program demands forcefully, “Who is Dreda Tremaine?” Carlos asks, concerned.

She’s one of the ground crew, mostly works on the fourth jaeger. She’s fairly skilled with wire work and but especially talented with firmware.

She’s twelve.

“Why do we even have her scan?” Carlos asks, honestly baffled; the head of the jaeger program asks, a little irritated.

“Everyone who joins the jaeger program gets tested. We… we weren’t sure how long the kaiju would keep coming,” the analyst explains haltingly. For all they knew, the jaeger program would last years longer. They weren’t expecting someone so young to be needed so soon.

“Where is she?” he asks, resigned, both parts of himself in unison.

Around him voices speak up and protest, She’d be over by the fourth jaeger now. You can’t seriously consider it. She’s too young.

“I’m here,” a small thin voice says, and the crowd of technicians part for her. She’s a short girl, dressed in an overly large shapeless technician’s coveralls, grease on her cheeks and her upturned nose. She’s shaking, and her hands are fisted into her pockets, shoulders hunched up to her ears, but she still walks forward and says, “I’m Dreda Tremaine.”

The past is the past; nothing can change that. Mal talks about the ritual, about the world of the kaiju, but only in the bare minimum. The past should be remembered, yes, should be learned from, but there is a time for reminiscing and that is not now. What they need to talk about is what they’re going to do next.

They know how to stop the kaiju for good. They need the jaegers, they need Carlos.

They need to stop Carlos from getting into the jaeger.

Once back onto solid ground, it’s Ben who leads the way. The Isle has changed over year they’ve been gone and while the jaegers are easily spotted from a distance, Ben is the one who knows how best to get to where they need to go.

The streets and alleys are deserted, as if the people had simply vanished mid-activity. Or as if a warning siren had gone off, alerting people to go to the safe zones. Even as they run, Ben can see that the Hell Jalopy and the Rebel Watcher are gone, only their nameless comrades remaining.

But Ben has also been on the Isle for months now, and there’s something else he notices. He can recognize the difference between a prepped jaeger and a jaeger in sleep mode. One of the nameless jaegers have been powered up.

There isn’t a pilot suit Dreda’s size, but they modify the smallest they do have to fit her. She changed with no complaint, but Carlos can see they way her tied up hair is swaying, an echo of her bodies’ trembling.

She’s only twelve.

“Hey, Dreda,” Carlos says, and even though he’s not one for comforting people he tries his best, and lays a hand on her shoulder, “I’m Carlos.”

She looks at him almost incredulously, “I know who you are,” she says, and her voice is still soft and thin but at least its not panicked.

“I just wanted you to know that I’m sorry,” because he is, he really really is, “These jaegers are supposed to protect the people of the Isle, and I’m sorry that just because we’re drift compatible you aren’t one of those people.”

It’s one thing to volunteer yourself for the jaeger, it’s another to drag someone else down with you, Carlos thinks to himself, but still there are no crossbones on his back.

“I… I’m scared,” Dreda admits, but she looks Carlos in the eye as she does so, and that gives him the courage to say back:

“I’m scared, too.” Maybe this is what makes them drift compatible, a willingness to do something terrifying because it needs to be done and they’re the only ones who can.

Their moment is cut short when shouts ring out; the ground crew heralding someone’s arrival. Carlos and Dreda look down from their spot up in the catwalks, just outside the jaeger cockpit entrance.

Five figures, not in the jaeger technicians’ jumpsuits.

Carlos recognizes the tops of those heads.

“No way,” Dreda breathes beside him, saying what he’s thinking.

It’s impossible for them to have heard her from so high up, but the group looks up, one by one. Carlos knows those faces, too.

Auradon actually did it.

A/N: ARGH! Okay, okay, what?! Why is this not done yet?! OMG. Okay. NEXT PART, FOR SURE.

A Tale of Two Kingdoms, part 8/11 (2015-08-23)

The eels lead them to a cove. It is somehow both shadowy and glowing strangely, ominously. Ben shakes himself out to dry, drops of water flying everywhere, and normally Chip would says something about that tendency but not now. Not here.

Chip waves his fingers and stomps his feet, not in an effort to get dry, but because he can feel the creeping sensation of magic. His skin feels like it’s hardening, turning back into brittle porcelain, his limbs disappearing, and soon he’ll be nothing more than a teacup again.

It’s not happening, of course, it’s not. But that’s always what evil magic feels like to him. And this place has the residual energy of something definitely bad.

The eels, being aquatic creatures, cannot follow them onto the shore, but they wait in the water. Patiently.

“Over here,” Ben calls, and he is standing disturbingly close to what appears to be a large cauldron.

Chip shudders, but joins him.

The cauldron, much like the cove, is insidiously luminous, the contents unable to be looked at directly. And yet, despite the light radiating from within it, the cauldron seems dormant somehow.

Then Ben touches it, and the light grows and spreads and becomes absolutely blinding.

Part of the jaeger program involves an array of sensors attached to buoys in the water, ready to alert the Isle when and where kaiju surface. It’s not a particularly precise method, implemented early on before Auradon’s contributions, but it’s good enough to tell when–

“Double event!” One of the technicians yell, and it starts and echo throughout the docks, triggering a launch sequence. The jaeger pilots are found and prepped, any repairs or modifications being done on the Hell Jalopy and the Rebel Watcher finished as efficiently as possible, and both jaegers are sent out.

“What do we have?” Carlos asks, from his place at the center of the control room. Arrayed in a circle around him are technicians, eyes glued to monitors displaying the sensor array, the readings from the jaegers, the readings from the pilots’ suits, everything.

“Two class fours, three miles west” someone calls out, already starting up the warning sirens for the Isle. Others are speaking into their headsets, talking to the other technicians on the ground, to the pilots in their cockpits already marching towards battle.

They haven’t had double class fours yet, but they’ve been expecting it. The level of the kaiju appearing have been increasing, as have the frequency. And the quantity. So it’s with dread, but not surprise, that Carlos hears,

“Triple event.”

It’s said in a low voice, but around the control room the roar of action has silenced. It’s said in disbelief, in fear.

“Triple event,” the technician repeats, “There’s a class five kaiju, two miles. Northeast.”

A prince touches a cauldron and sets three magicians free. Phrased like that, it really does sound like something out of a fairy tale. But this isn’t that kind of story, not truly, and there was a bit more to it than that.

The prince touches a cauldron, a small tear between worlds, one of many such tears surrounding the Isle. But this one is different; this one is the first.

In that other monster-filled world, three young magicians move quickly, silently, carefully. This is their one chance to go back home, they cannot afford to be stopped now.

With the prince acting as an anchor, a beacon, they know where the cauldron entrance is on this side. The landscape of this world is strange and twisted, the light of whatever scorching star playing tricks on their eyes so used sunlight.

But magic doesn’t need sight, or maybe it grants a different kind of sight, because suddenly Evie can see the exit. A tear too small for the kaiju and their masters to take advantage of, but just the right size for them to escape.

A prince touches a cauldron and sets three magicians free.

After that announcement, the control room erupts into a burst of sound, panicked, distressed. A technician pulls up the sensor array onto a larger screen so everyone can see the two symbols representing the jaegers, the two symbols for the class fours, and the symbol of the class five. In a completely different direction, closer to the Isle and incoming.

There are discussions as they weigh their options, the a dozen voices simultaneously speaking. Do they call back the jaegers to fight the class five? But they are already en route to the class fours, they might not make it in time before all three are at the Isle. But if they go after the class fours, the Isle is undefended.

Maybe only one should turn back, split the jaegers, split the defense. But neither of the jaegers can handle a dual event on their own, certainly untested against a dual event of class fours. They’ve never had a class five before, either, they don’t know if a single jaeger will be enough.

There are two more jaegers; empty, but functional. They just need to be filled.

“Have HJ and RW continue towards the class fours,” Carlos says, twice when conversations keep happening after the first time. The control room silences once more, “Prep one of the remaining jaegers, and get two pilot suits,” there is a pause, the silence continues. “Now!” Carlos shouts, no longer himself, completely the head of the jaeger program. The techs scramble into action.

One of them, trying not to undermine his authority but needing to speak out, says, “We don’t have another set of pilots. No one is drift compatible, we’ve tested everyone.”

Carlos stares–not at the technicians, still at work, but listening desperately. Not at the sensor array, symbols blinking furiously. Not at the giant figures of the remaining two jaegers, standing, waiting, empty–He stares, right at that damned painted skull and crossbones.

“Not everyone,” he says, because it’s true. “Not me.”

Chip pulls Ben away from the cauldron almost immediately, fearful of what the sudden surge of energy, this sudden awakening of the cauldron means. His insides feel scooped out, body too fragile to stand up against what the wave of magic means. But still he pulls Ben away from the cauldron, pulls Ben behind him, stands ready to fight.

Clambering out of the cauldron are three silhouettes, the only breaks of shadow in the odd distorted beam of light. One of them touches cauldron and suddenly it’s as if the world has gone dark, the difference too sudden and too drastic for their eyes to adjust.

“You certainly took your time,” one of them says, a girl’s voice, flat and unimpressed.

“You’re the prince Carlos sent,” a different girl’s voice says, “The one he calls Auradon,” and the statement piques Ben’s interest, causes him to circle around Chip.

He hears a shuffling sound, a footfall on sand; Ben squints to see, the tall, buff burgundy figure step protectively in front of the other two.

“Yes,” Ben says, empty hands raised as a show of good faith, “That’s me.”

“Well congratulations,” the first girl says, “you’ve found us.”

A/N: Ugh, I thought this would be the last part, but apparently not. Mostly because it’s already midnight and my head hurts so I ought to post what I have now.

Preeeeeetty sure next part will be the last. Pretty sure.

A Tale of Two Kingdoms, part 7/11 (2015-08-21)

The islanders are reluctant to share their knowledge of what exactly happened, not because they’re distrustful of Ben, but because it involves magic. The only ones who really understood magic were the ones involved, and they’re the ones missing.

“Good riddance,” one woman mutters, face hidden by dirty blonde hair and a grungy scarf.

The woman next to her jostles her sharply, hissing a warning, “If the captain heard you, you’d walk the plank.”

“Well the captain’s dead, she’s not here to protect her damned pet squid. It’s because of him that the kaiju are around.” The woman spits back, before shuffling away when the expression on her conversation partner’s face clearly doesn’t agree.

The remaining woman glares at her retreating back, before turning expectantly to Ben and Chip. Her back is hunched and her clothes are dirty, but the set of crossbones stitched onto her beanie are a bright clean white. “You’ve got questions, then?”

“Yes,” Ben says politely, “I’m trying to figure out–”

“What happened to the other magic kids, eh?” She interrupts, eyebrow raised slyly, “You think the entire Isle don’t know about your mission? And I’m not talking about finding those three.”

Ben tries desperately not to blush.

He obviously fails from the way the woman laughs raucously.

“If you could please–” Chip starts, only to be interrupted as well.

“You’re a bit too clean for my own tastes,” the woman says to Chip appraisingly, “but that can be fixed easily.” She winks, and now Chip is also flustered. Great.

“Ma’am, we need to know what happened.” Ben says, bringing them back on topic, “How is it that Uri’s death is confirmed, but no one knows what happened to the others?”

“That’s easy,” she scoffs, “How else?”

Ben waits for her to explain, but Chip is the one to answer.

“There was a body.”

It’s not like Carlos is just waiting for Auradon to come back. He has a lot to do around the docks; it comes with the territory of being the head of the jaeger program. That being said, he has no idea why Jane and Lonnie keep following him around.

He’s still a bit suspicious of them, ever since they tricked him into talking to Auradon. So it’s not his fault his face automatically turns into a squinty eyed stare in their presence, especially Jane’s.

“It worked out for the best,” Lonnie says, absolutely steady from her perch on the catwalk railings.

Carlos only grumbles back at her, combing through some basic wire work on the fourth jaeger. Jane, at least, has the decency to sit on the actual walkway, safe from tipping over. Not that her being in Carlos’ peripheral vision is making him any less nervous.

“I think it’s absolutely romantic,” Jane sighs, head propped in her hand, and Carlos is not fooled at all.

But he still asks, “What is?” and ignores the feverish sensation on the tips of his ears.

“A knight on a quest to prove his love,” Jane responds wistfully. Carlos wonders if this is what she was like before coming to the Isle, if she would have been just a daydreaming teenage girl, instead of a jaeger pilot capable of destroying giant monsters. Well, now he gets to deal with both.

Lonnie hums in agreement–correction, now Carlos gets to deal with both twice over–before adding, “Usually the prince ends up with the rescued princess, but traditional stories are so two decades ago.”

Jane barks out a laugh, “It’s not like your parents were very traditional,” she reminds teasingly.

“I like to think they were trendsetters,” Lonnie shoots back.

Their easy banter washes over him, familiar at least, if not soothing, after weeks of it; but Carlos is still stuck on something in particular.

“Auradon is a prince?”

Finding where Jemma Hook is buried is easy. Finding where Jemma Hook buried Uri? Not so much.

“Captain was real torn up about his death,” a man nearly two feet taller than Chip says morosely, casually shrugging a crate of potatoes onto one shoulder, “She would’ve buried him wherever she hid her treasure.”

“Good luck finding that,” someone else snorts, unashamedly interjecting himself into their conversation, “She kept that a secret to her own grave.”

“It’s true,” the first man says, “Any decent pirate would have a hidden stash, Captain Hook’s would be particularly hard to find.”

“You know, if anyone could find it,” The second man suggests, “It would be that damn thief; or maybe the princess, if there were enough gems.”

“You think this boy would be bothering with the Captain’s treasure if he already had Carlos’ gang?” The first man scoffs, reaching out to cuff the other on the back of the head.

It nearly bowls him over, but he keeps to his feet, “Just saying,” he scowls.

“No wait,” a third person says, bodily inserting herself into their discussion by ducking under the first man’s arm, “He’s onto something. The ones who would best be able to find the captain’s treasure would be Jay and Evie.”

“Neither of whom we have,” Chip reminds.

“So the closest thing you have to that is their parrot.” The girl says, a mischievous grin on her face.

“A parrot,” Ben finally says, leaning forward in interest, “Tell me more.”

“Don’t you dare hurt Othello,” Evie warns, even as she brings up his image onto her mirror and passes it over to Jay.

“You think I’m going to risk our one chance by purposefully messing with that bird?” he asks, hands on the mirror, eyes beginning to glow.

“There’s a reason he likes me better,” Evie says, before turning silent, focusing on her precognitive abilities. She needs to keep an eye out for any of their hunters, especially now that Jay is occupied with possessing Othello and Mal has brought down their shield. They’re not actually sure if it will work, which is why Mal is using her magic to amplify Jay’s.

“This is ridiculous,” Mal murmurs. It sounds like one of those fairy tales, she thinks, a prince following a bird to one secret area. Then following another set of animals to a different secret area. All as part of a quest to rescue a princess. So what if that bird is a parrot being magically possessed, and the next set of guides are eels, and there’s an evil fairy’s daughter and an evil sorcerer’s son being rescued alongside the princess? “So ridiculous,” she repeats.

“This is great!” Ben enthuses as he and Chip pick their way along the trash-strewn shore, following after the blue and yellow parrot. “It’s really like a proper quest.”

Chip, done with absolutely everything–especially the parrot who not only scratched and bit him, but also pooped on his shoulder–is distinctly less impressed.

“Mystery, a hidden treasure, an animal guide,” Ben lists off, before the parrot screeches– “Hurry up!” – and they both pour on the speed.

They wouldn’t want to lose the bird for a second time. At least it seems to be intelligent enough to not only get the gist of what they need, but also to circle back and find them. Suspiciously intelligent, Chip thinks to himself, but that may just be his newly found bias against birds speaking.

The parrot brings them to a rocky outcropping, a small five foot cliff of sorts. Looking around, neither of them can see a place where something can be buried.

“Did this thing take us on a wild goose chase?” Chip asks belligerently, before flinching when the parrot lands on his shoulder.

Ben laughs, out of breath, but his hands clench into fists with irritation as well.

“Lagan! Derelict!” The parrot screeches, disastrously loud right next to Chip’s ear.

It takes a few moments, but soon enough, in the water below them, the long sinuous bodies of two eels appear.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Chip says in disbelief.

“Multiple animal guides,” Ben amends, before steeling himself and jumping into the water. “Come on!” he calls up to Chip.

Chip stares balefully down at him instead, looks at the parrot on his shoulder in commiseration, realizes he’s doing so, and decides to flee from the feathered pest by jumping down after Ben.

The water is cold and kind of slimy feeling and Chip hates everything about this. He says as much.

Ben just grins obnoxiously back, “It’s not over yet.”


A/N: Yes, that’s how I’m ending it because I can’t believe it’s not over yet. AAAAAGH. We will get there soon. Hopefully.

Thanks to theotpauthor for letting me know that the eels are not just a strange fluke. Hence, Othello the parrot, who is technically Evie’s but is descended from Iago so… yet another timeshare pet?

And jalencolbert, in case you didn’t see my edit on the last post. Lagan and Derelict are the book canon names for the eels, I didn’t come up with it. But I think Uri as Ursula’s son’s name is my creation? Not sure, there are only so many U names. Feel free to use that as well, though.

A Tale of Two Kingdoms, part 6/11 (2015-08-20)

There is really only one thing that Carlos–Carlos the boy, not Carlos the head of the jaeger program–wants.

He wants his friends.

It’s not something that’s easy to admit. The Isle has been critical of such soft, positive emotions–you have minions or a gang or, if you’re particularly lucky, partners in crime–but friends are for the weak. Friendship just means admitting a person is your weak spot.

But that was before. There’s a new world order on the Isle; in the face of kaiju, posturing as a tough, heartless loner is not only useless, but detrimental. Survival means cooperation now. The strongest of them, the jaeger pilots, are only such because they are drift compatible. To protect one’s family, for the love of lost friends, to contribute to the community–that’s what the Isle now holds above all else.

But it’s a lifetime of conditioning to work against, so it’s still difficult to admit. And, truth be told, Carlos is scared.

It’s a selfish request, to risk their source of, well, everything, just to try and figure out what happened to three people who may or may not be…

Carlos doesn’t know what happened to them; the mystery is as much a source of hope as it is despair. If he doesn’t know, then their deaths can’t be confirmed, they could still be alive. But surely, if they were still alive, they would have come back by now?

And what use would it be to know now, after over a year? What if its dangerous, what if it’s pointless, what if…

But Auradon asks, and that’s the only thing Carlos wants.

“You don’t have to,” Carlos says, fingers tugging nervously with the ends of his gloves. He’s said the same thing dozens of times already, voice conflicted, eyes filled with both hope and fear, “You don’t have to, really.”

“Auradon,” Ben says, just to get Carlos to look at him. At Ben. Not a resource, not a king, just Ben.


“That’s what you call me. And, you know, there’s a bit of a tradition in my kingdom,” Curiosity makes Carlos quiet, waiting for more. It’s better than him being worried, so Ben continues, “A boy goes on a quest to prove that he’s worthy.”

“Worthy of what?” Carlos asks, confused.

“I don’t know yet,” Ben says with a laugh. Carlos wrinkles his nose, to which Ben shrugs helplessly, “I’ll bring them back to you,” he says seriously, grasping both of Carlos’ hands to stop his fidgeting. And because he wants to, “One way or another, I’ll find them and I’ll bring them back to you,” Ben vows.

This vow is more crucial than bringing back cars and boats and planes and engineers and pilots. Because this isn’t a promise between a king and the head of the jaeger program. This is a promise from one boy to another, from a boy in love to the one he loves.

“And when I succeed,” Ben says, squeezing Carlos hands between his own, “I’d like it if you used my real name.” And he brings them up to his lips, brushing a kiss against bare knuckles.

Carlos tugs his hands away, a flush high on his cheeks, and Ben thinks he’s screwed up. But Carlos says, “You’ll have to come back and tell me what it is, then,” before he stomps away, no doubt back to the jaeger docks.

Ben smiles goofily after him, until Chip cuts in with a not so subtle cough. “Very smooth,” he says, completely straight faced.

Ben squints at him suspiciously, unsure if Chip is being sarcastic or not.

“It’s better than your dad at least,” Chip says reassuringly which, considering the story behind his parents’ get together, is not really all that of a consolation.

“Are you sure you want to come with me?” Ben asks, echoing a conversation they had months before.

And like before, Chip says, “I’m not letting you go alone.”

There is something strange about magic on this side of the tear. Or maybe, on this side of the ritual, on this side of Uri’s death.

The barrier being taken down was just a side affect, the tear between worlds an unintended consequence. The ritual was meant only to use son of a witch as fuel to revive the power of four magicians. Except there weren’t just four magicians–there were seven; even if three of them were young and unknowing.

Rituals are delicate things, everything must be done precisely or else it’ll end up a mess. The magical backlash, along with tearing down the barrier and tearing open a path between worlds, caused enough chaos for the three of them–back up sacrifices and accidental vessels–to escape.

But they didn’t know then which way they were escaping. Instead of going back, to warn the rest of the Isle, they went forward; into the world of the kaiju.

In this world, magic comes easily to them, thankfully. Otherwise how would they have survived without Mal’s constant shield. Without Evie’s precognitive warnings. And how would they have figured out the truth behind the kaiju without Jay’s mind magics pulling the truth out of one.

If only magic could bring them back.

But they’ve learned in the past couple of days–weeks–months–that magic doesn’t always need to be the solution. Not with Carlos.

“He’s sending us a prince,” Evie says, voice elated in a way Mal and Jay haven’t heard since they’ve been trapped on the wrong side of the tear.

“How will that help us?” Jay asks, disbelief blatant in his voice, even as he stares eagerly at Evie’s mirror.

“If he can find the ritual site, he can act as an anchor for us on that side,” Evie explains, excited grip causing the mirror’s frame to dig into her palm.

“We’d be able to find an opening that isn’t where the kaiju are being sent through,” Jay says in understanding.

“However we came through in the first place,” Mal agrees, “If there were some way we could lead him there…” she trails off, unsure. The ritual site had been Ursula’s choice, a cove that she had kept secret from the rest of the island.

“The eels,” Evie suggests, at the same time Jay says, “Lagan and Derelict.”

Mal looks at both of them skeptically before shrugging, “I suppose if anything can get him to Ursula’s secret lair, it’d be Uri’s pets.” And how poetic it would be, if creatures that Uri cared for were to help expose his murder.


A/N: Okay, so according to Jay’s wiki page, he’s the one with pet eels which I find kind of odd since it’s clearly a reference to Ursula’s Flotsam and Jetsam… unless that means Jay’s mother is Ursula?!?! Uh… well, let’s just say not since I have Uri in this story. Maybe in this universe Jay and Uri have a timeshare on the eels or something, I dunno.

Uh, yeah, strange ending. Sorry about that. :/

EDIT: (Because I don’t know how to reply to replies). jalencolbert, I just pulled the names for the eels off Jay’s wiki page so I don’t own them. As far as I know, Uri isn’t a canon name for Ursula’s kid (if she even has one) so that is sort of mine, but feel free to use that as well.

A Tale of Two Kingdoms, part 4/11 (2015-08-18)

What ensues during the following months is the strangest rivalry the Isle has ever seen. It’s also the most argumentative courtship Chip has ever witnessed which, considering what his childhood was like, is certainly saying something. The different views probably explain the confusion.

Carlos asks for cars, Ben gives him cars. And boats. And computers. And planes, because why not.

Carlos asks for better tools, Ben provides those. As well as access to factories and Auradon technicians who don’t mind working alongside islanders or under a teenager.

Carlos asks for pilots, and Ben volunteers himself… until drift compatibility is explained to him.

“You can’t just jump in a jaeger with a random person and hope for the best, Auradon,” Carlos says, refusing to even learn Ben’s name, much less use it, “The pilots have to be compatible in order to share the controls. Otherwise you’ll end up with the disaster that would have been Gaston the Fourth.”

Ben grimaces at the mention, and not just because of the stories his mother has told him about her youth.

Carlos seems to think of him as a challenge and a resource, for some reason prickly at Ben’s generosity but willing enough to answer his questions. The rest of the Isle look at him with a collective bemusement, cautious but grateful, and a little entertained by his interactions with their jaeger program head.

But the Gaston twins? It’s not like Ben has announced his parentage–the islanders just seem to take his identity as Auradon at face value–but those two seem to somehow know, as if expecting him to transform into a monster at any second.

Or maybe it’s jealousy. They were supposed to have been jaeger pilots instead of Harry and Jace, it would have been their opportunity to be heroes as they seemed to think of themselves. For Ben to arrive and successfully aid the program without being a pilot himself, well. Just imagine how pissed they would be if they knew who he actually was.

With all the material he’s getting from Auradon, building a two-person jaeger out of the remains of the Jolly Roger is no longer a problem. In fact, they have enough for another two double jaegers, which Carlos sets his technician teams to work on. Auradon gave him actual engineers who follow his directions; that guy is so strange.

The problem now isn’t the lack of jaeger parts, or a lack of technicians, it’s a lack of jaeger pilots.

No matter how willing Auradon seems to be, it’s not just a matter of stuffing two random volunteers into the cockpit. If it were just that, there wouldn’t be a problem–sure the Isle is made up of villains and evildoers and their despicable descendants, but there have been a lot of islanders willing to risk their lives to save their friends and family.

Really, they were lucky that Harry and Jace were drift compatible, that the Hell Jalopy has a stable pair of pilots.

They need drift compatible pilots, and there aren’t any more on the Isle. Even including the engineers, Chip, and Auradon himself.

Carlos thinks this will be the sticking point. It’s one thing to give materials, one thing to have people build the jaegers, but piloting is dangerous. Has already proven deadly. Auradon may be willing to volunteer himself, but there’s no way he can get others to do it.

He’s just one guy, not the personification of a kingdom. Carlos knows what it’s like now to be seen as more than himself, as a means to an end instead of just a boy, the head of the jaeger program instead of Carlos De Vil. He shouldn’t expect so much from the other boy, no matter what he calls him.

Ben knows that being a good king isn’t about power. It’s not about absolute rule backed by strength and fear. It’s respect. It’s asking his people to do something, and having them agree because they believe in it too.

The engineers working on the Isle now? They were the ones working on the Wall, despite knowing how futile it was against the kaiju. They were the ones who saw the Jolly Roger fight back. They know, more than Ben does, just how important the jaeger program really is.

There’s no difficulty in getting people with faith in something to help contribute to that cause.

But pilots are another matter.

“They have to be teenagers,” Harry admits, because Carlos won’t.

“Have to?” Chip asks–like Ben, he’s been helping out with the jaeger program as much as he can, and has become fond of the islanders that are part of it.

“Carlos tried to change the programming,” Jace says, “There are at least a few parents who would rather be pilots than watch their kids do it,” though on the Isle, that number isn’t very high.

“It’s the compatibility–adults have a stronger sense of self than most teenagers,” Harry explains with a shrug.

Teenaged volunteers for jaeger pilots… this particular request is going to be harder than Ben thought.

Auradon leaves the Isle. He says it’s to find jaeger pilots, but Carlos knows it’s an impossible mission. At best, Carlos expects him to come back having tried and failed, a sheepish smile on his lips, with a few more planes and technicians as a consolation prize.

At worst? Well… no, no need to even consider that. He’ll come back, he has to. He’s left Chip behind, there’s no way Auradon won’t come back.

Carlos spends the next few weeks a little snappish and irritable, combing over every little move the technicians make until Harry and Jace bodily remove him from the jaeger docks.

“You’re making them nervous,” Jace scolds.

“Of course they’re going to make more mistakes when you’re breathing down their necks,” Harry adds, shaking Carlos by the collar of his jacket. She hasn’t done that in ages, and not because of his growth spurt.

“They have your blueprints, they know what they’re doing, just let them build in peace.” Jace finishes, before handing Carlos a sandwich. The food on the Isle has gotten better too, yet another thing Auradon keeps giving him. Them. The Isle, that is.

“What’s wrong with you?” Harry asks, when it appears that not even food can make his bad mood go away.

“I’m thinking about Jemma,” Carlos deflects, though now that he says it, he really is, “I wonder if… had I known to split the control of the Jolly Roger…”

“It’s not your fault,” Jace reassures quickly.

“Yeah, I know,” sometimes Carlos does, anyway, “But what I meant was. Who she would have been drift compatible with. Maybe I would’ve–”

“Except we need you to build the jaegers, not pilot it,” Harry interrupts.

To which Carlos scowls, but agrees, “Yes, that. But I wonder if… maybe she would have been drift compatible with Uri.”

Harry and Jace share a worried, knowing glance.

“I wonder what happened to them,” Carlos continues; there is only one particular set of ‘them’ that could refer to.

Time moves differently on this side of the tear. They know it’s been over a year, they have watched their friend change and grow and lose so much. Whenever they can, whenever they feel safe enough, they crowd around Evie’s tiny mirror and watch him.

They know that months have passed. But to them, it only feels like days. A few weeks at most, really.

They need to get back. Somehow. They need to get back to Carlos. To tell him what they’ve seen, to tell him what’s coming.

To tell him how to stop the kaiju for good.


A/N: It’s a bit messy, but I figured better to post this and edit it later than have it languish on my laptop.


A Tale of Two Kingdoms, part 3/11 (2015-08-16)

Ben has never been on the Isle before. Has never expected to. Even when, before the kaiju, he thought about mending the gap between Isle and Auradon it was always the islanders going to Auradon, never the other way around.

Its like a different world.

It looks a little like they’ve already lived through an attack–but instead of fleeing, they rebuilt. Not as neat or as pretty, but at least they tried. Not like Charmington, not like Auradon.

Not like they had a choice.

There was no option for them to abandon their home. Not without working boats. Not without access to the magic bridge. Not without Auradon. Ben is galled at himself. He didn’t think of them during their time of need and now he comes to them during his?

Then he spots them, the giant machines, standing tall by the docks. As mismatched and unattractive as the Isle they guard, and just as tenacious. The Isle’s answer to the end of the world. Auradon’s last hope.

They salvage as much as they can from the Jolly Roger, but it’s not enough to make another two-pilot jaeger. And Carlos is not going to make another single person jaeger. Not again, not yet.

They’re desperate, but the Hell Jalopy is doing well enough, they’re not that desperate. And even then, so what? They’d have one double jaeger and a single jaeger? That’s not sustainable, not in the long run.

The Isle has always been able to make do on the scraps and leftovers from Auradon, but now? Now they need more. But more than that, now they have the means to get more.

No barges, sure, but the Hell Jalopy can just as easily raid Auradon as it can fight kaiju…

… could just as easily ferry the islanders to Auradon.

Wouldn’t that be for the best? Surely it would be better to run than to continue fighting a losing battle?

The painted skull stares at him accusingly.

The car that Chip and Ben drive to the Isle is several years old, a sedate silver four door sedan, Chip’s car for personal use. No need to antagonize them, he said, a limo would be patronizing.

As it is, Chip’s car is still the shiniest and cleanest thing on the Isle. Even without the magical glowing bridge of an entrance, the car would stand out simply by how new it is.

And by how it has yet to be deconstructed into jaeger parts. Even without knowing it’s passengers, a crowd of islanders gather around glaring at the car; mistrustful, angry, assessing.

It’s not a secret that the decommissioned Jolly Roger is incomplete.

Chip stops the car, both of them step out.

The crowd grows, but there is an empty circle of space around the car.

For now.

Carlos only finds out about the car from Auradon two hours after it is first spotted. Only because he asks someone where Harry and Jace are, and the person he asks instinctively answers with the truth despite what her fellow techies gesture behind his back.

Ever since the kaiju, ever since the jaegers, Carlos has been… revered but not necessarily deferred to. He is the head of the jaeger program and anything he needs he gets, but that doesn’t make him a leader.

Before the kaiju, the Isle was a state of anarchy, and the only thing that had authority was power. Before the kaiju, the closest things to leaders were the strongest, baddest villains. The same ones who unleashed the kaiju on the Isle.

The new post-kaiju Isle is now united under two goals–survive and build the jaegers. With that in mind, the closest thing to a leader wasn’t Carlos. It was Jemma.

Now, perhaps, it is Harry and Jace by default. But Harry and Jace have always been Carlos’ in a way Jemma wasn’t.

He goes to them: his minions, his jaeger pilots, his responsibilities. He goes to their meeting with Auradon.

Chip is sure it would have turned into a riot, had the two jaeger pilots not showed up. As it is, he’s not entirely confident that his car will still be there when he and Ben get back. Not completely, anyway.

“Just two people, in that huge machine?” Chip asks, enthusiasm nonetheless shining through. Beside him, Ben looks doubtfully at his mug of slop. What was he expecting from something called the Slop Shop?

Harry and Jace wear their pride like a new, ill-fitting jacket. Like they’re not used to being the heroes.

“The Hell Jalopy was designed for two people, to share the burden of piloting,” Jace says, a strange twist on his mouth.

“The Jolly Roger only needed one person, but it was smaller,” Harry adds, tracing out a shape with her finger, a circle and an x.

“The Jolly Roger, the red jaeger?” Ben asks, “It looked about the same height when we saw it.”

The jaeger pilots share a look, silent and troubled, before turning back to Ben and Chip. They do not explain.

“That’s not the Jolly Roger,” a boy says, from behind them, not much younger than Ben. He is wearing a red, black, and white jacket and when he passes them to snag a seat next to Harry and Jace, Ben can see crossbones on his back.

Ben has spotted the symbol frequently in the past few hours, visible but small on nearly every islander’s clothing. Nowhere near as large as the one worn by this boy.

“Not anymore, anyway,” the boy continues, not even blinking as Jace stands up and moves to sit on his other side, bracketing the boy in between Harry and Jace.

It reminds Ben of himself and Chip, of royalty and their bodyguards. And if Harry and Jace, the two pilots of one of the jaegers, the people that could preemptively stop a crowd from becoming a mob, are bodyguards to this boy. Then that means,

“Are you the pilot of the Jolly Roger?”

Carlos can feel a sardonic smile curl onto his lips, “Captain Hook is dead,” he says, and that damned painted panel flashes through his mind.

“James Hook is dead?” The boy says in confusion, blue suit neat and clean and screaming of Auradon as much as his answer does.

“You’ve got a lot to learn, Auradon. That coward is probably alive somewhere,” Carlos says bluntly, “Jemma Hook is the only Captain Hook that matters anymore.”

“If you’re not a jaeger pilot, then who are you?” The man says, suspicion about on par with an islander toddler.

He can hear Harry chuckling beside him, and on his other side, Jace’s shoulders jostle his with silent laughter. He can even hear amused whispers from the other customers of the Slop Shop, eavesdropping unashamedly.

“Someone’s got to build the jaegers,” Carlos begins.

“That someone is you,” the other boy finishes, more wonder than disbelief, but a decent amount of both.

Carlos laughs, “Now you’re getting it, Auradon.”


A/N: OKAY, so… I think I know what happened to the other three, but apparently the plot bunny wanted this to happen first. And it has a very interesting take on how Ben and Carlos interact.

I guess it makes sense, they’re on Carlos’ turf after a year of him being creator of the jaegers, so it’s a bit of a role reversal…

We’ll see where this plot bunny takes us, I guess.

Btw, anyone have a suggestion for a title?


Only Fools Rush In, part 12/12 (2015-08-10)

Carlos joins him in bed again that night, and for many more nights after that. Not all the time, and not always heady make out sessions. Sometimes they do actually just sleep next to each other, and sometimes they talk instead, whispering secrets to each other beneath the covers.

One night, Ben admits that he doesn’t feel ready to be king. He’s only sixteen, he’s not even finished with school yet, how could he possibly rule an entire kingdom? But he doesn’t say this for reassurance, he just wants a safe place to voice his fears without judgement.

Carlos spends the rest of the night doing his best to hold Ben, both sets of limbs wrapped around Ben’s torso.  He still moves around in his sleep, so the next morning Ben finds himself half way off the bed, but it’s the thought that counts. It was a very well-meaning aggressive snuggling, so Ben’s not even the tiniest bit angry.

On a different night, it’s Carlos who confesses: Before coming to Auradon, he had taken the barrier down around the Isle. But he panicked, hadn’t known what to do, and so the breach had only been temporary. The truth of the matter was that he had been scared of what might be beyond the Isle, had been raised on tales of vicious creatures and human beasts.

But he’s glad that Ben reached out, had given them the opportunity to leave the Isle. Carlos loves his life now. He likes that he and the other Lost kids are finally thriving, not just clawing out their continued survival. Instead of being something to fear, Dude is a stalwart companion Carlos wouldn’t give up for anything. And Ben… makes him happy. He’s happy because of Ben, and he’s happy to be with Ben.

Carlos still can’t quite say he’s in love with Ben, but it’s early days yet. They are happy together and that is enough.

“I can’t believe we’re going to be late!” Evie exclaims, fussing over her dress before holding a napkin out, just as the limo makes a turn. The soda sloshing out of Jay’s cup lands on it exactly.

“You made the both of them change like five times each,” Mal reminds her. Unlike the other passengers, she is completely calm; partly because she’s already been to one such family dinner before, unlike the other three Lost kids, but also because she’s not the one who’s going to inform Ben’s parents about his nontraditional take on relationships.

Although, to be fair, Jay’s energy has less to do with nerves and more to do with the amount of sugary limo snacks he’s been consuming. Maybe spoiling one’s dinner isn’t something that’s warned against on the Isle.

“That’s because he kept trying to wear shirts without sleeves,” Evie says, one thumb jerked at Jay beside her, “And this one apparently doesn’t own actual full-length trousers,” she continues, nudging Carlos playfully with her shoulder. That sets off a miniature domino reaction as Carlos then bumps into Ben, who then sways into Mal.

Carlos, normally exempt from Evie’s fashion scoldings, can only shrug sheepishly in response.

Evie sighs, as if greatly inconvenienced, when everyone knows she had been the one most enjoying the impromptu fashion show earlier, “I can’t believe we’re going to be late for dinner with a queen and king,” she repeats.

“I’m a king and you have dinner with me all the time,” Ben says, just to be cheeky.

Evie looks at him, flatly unimpressed, before breaking her composure and smiling.

“I can’t believe Carlos brought Dude,” Jay says, not because he actually can’t believe Carlos would bring Dude along, but more to make a point.

“Ben said it was a family dinner, if you’re coming then Dude gets to come, too,” Carlos responds. In his lap and being treated to a two-handed head scratch is Dude, decked out in a matching outfit to his chosen human.

“This is going to be hilarious,” Mal says in general, then taps on the chauffeur’s shoulder and asks him, “What do you think, Chip?”

“It’ll be more interesting than the last one, that’s for sure,” he says without turning around. Before he can explain, the limo approaches the drive, “Clean it up, ladies and gentlemen,” Chip advises, before stopping the car and exiting, coming around to hold the door open for them. The five of them, plus Dude, manage to exit the limo on their feet, at least, if not gracefully. Chip snickers before he leaves, muttering about the kitchens being the best vantage point and helping his mother.

Rather than waiting inside, Ben’s family have come to the front door to greet them, pushing introductions sooner than Ben expected.

“Everyone,” he says, addressing the Lost kids, “this is my mother, Belle, my father, Adam, and my grandfather, Maurice.”

Beside him Carlos hisses a breath and tries to subtly elbow him in the ribs. He’s not very successful on the subtle part, but fortunately for him, that’s not the biggest reveal of the night.

“You know Mal, my girlfriend,” Ben says, this time to his family, “This is Evie, Jay, and Carlos. My boyfriend.”

His parents, somehow still not used to how unorthodox their son is, stare in silent shock. Grandfather, on the other hand, laughs uproariously, mustache quivering like mad.

“Considering the lack of imprisonment, this is still better than how I found out about your parents,” he assures before turning to Carlos, “Don’t think we won’t continue our discussion on pneumatic cylinders from earlier today, my boy, but first let me see this dog of yours.”

Obediently, Carlos holds out Dude.

“Looks a bit like my old footstool,” Grandfather says, a little nonsensically, but completely understandable, “Come along then, kids, dinner’s waiting, and I know Lumière has prepared a bit of a performance. He makes new ones every time, you see,” the Lost kids, taking the hint, follow after him, leaving Ben and his parents alone. In the silence.

“Mom? Dad?” Ben prompts, worried but unafraid.

His mom shakes off her stupor, before smiling softly at him, a hand reaching out to cup his cheek, “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, you really are my son.”

“Actually, I think in this case I’m more like Dad,” Ben says, which finally seems to get through to him.

His Dad asks, “How so?”

The answer is easy, “I’m lucky to have found love.”


A/N: !!!!!!!!


WHAT?! I finished a multi-part story?! WHAAAAAAT?!

Holy smokes, I don’t even… what?!


Okay, well… uh… congratulations Descendants fandom, you are now the recipient of the first ever completed multi-part story by jacksgreyson/jacksgreysays.

If anyone would like to be a beta and help me polish this up so I can post it onto AO3, just send me a message/ask. Because… this would also be my first AO3 fic if I do that.

And maybe be a beta to help with future BenxCarlos endeavors (BECAUSE I HAVE SO MANY IDEAS BUT NO ONE TO RANT ABOUT THEM TO).

I just wanted to say, this was an absolutely fun nine days of being obsessed with a DIsney Channel Original Movie based on second-generation fanfiction. Absolutely fantastic. Writing this series was kind of the highlight of my week and I probably wouldn’t have been able to get so far (TO THE POINT OF FINISHING?!?!) without so many enthusiastic readers.

Stay rotten to the core, fandom 😉