#-WAVES DEATH COOKIES AROUND AS BAIT-

[flametraiined-blog]

“If I wanted to be friends with, like, Yveltal, would my chances be slim or none? Because slim I could work with.”

“Also what could i put out to bait it with?”

[littlemisspascal]

Death and an Angel part 12

Death!Din x Cupid F!Reader

Summary: It’s sort of funny though, to imagine Din being defeated by Gideon’s sword. 

It’s sort of funny, except...

Well. 

It isn’t really funny at all.

Rating: T

Word Count: 4,704 (good lord I’m tired...)

Warnings: angst, swearing, one brief moment of sexual harassment, lots of assumptions made, Dark Din returns and some familiar characters make themselves known

Author Note: Believe me I want Din and Cupid reunited as much as all of you do, but my dark side keeps saying just stretch it out a little bit longer 😈 All the love to each and every reader out there, the support you give me keeps me sane and happy each week ❤

Links to Part 1 and Part 11 and Part 13

Cross-posted on AO3.

Photo Inspiration:

You wipe furiously at your face, smearing tears across your cheeks, while inwardly cursing yourself for showing weakness in front of Gideon. A lump forms in your throat as you replay the last sixty seconds on loop in your head, imagining exactly how Din will react to each sentence, especially those last two words: let go. This will be the one and only time you’re thankful you can’t feel Din’s half of the bond. If he’s feeling even a smidge of the throbbing, torturous pain you’re feeling right now, experiencing both sides would have overwhelmed you. Of all the commands Gideon could have chosen, why would he choose to taunt Din with that one? It’s as if the Seraph is purposefully trying to piss Din off.

Maybe he is insane, you think, not for the first time, just as he starts to clap his hands together in applause.

“Well done,” Gideon says, almost in admiration. “You’re a much better actress than I imagined you’d be.”

“It wasn’t an act,” you snap back.

“Regardless, you’ve served your part well.” He reaches forward to pat your head, and you honestly deserve an award for not giving into the urge to break his hand. “If it would make you feel better, I could make you forget this moment ever happened. Should I require you to send a second message, it would certainly make it all the more bittersweet for you to think it was your first attempt.”

His words make no sense at first, and you merely sit there in the chair blinking back at him, some distant part of you aware of how your eyelashes are still wet and stuck together. Involuntarily, you find yourself recalling Din’s reaction to your memory loss, how he had muttered under his breath he thought someone was responsible for the blank spots. Your mouth falls open in shock as Gideon’s meaning clicks.

“You...You tampered with my memories?” you whisper.

“It wasn’t personal. There are holes in every Cupid’s head.”

Why would he use his powers so cruelly and invasively? How does he choose which memories to erase? These questions and more run through your head, but you don’t voice them aloud. Everything you’ve heard about and actually seen in person about Gideon has solidified your opinion he is a certifiable control freak. Of course he would use his memory-erasing ability to further establish his position of authority amongst the Cupids.

Your eyes drift to the Cupid twi’lek behind him. “Is that why she’s here? You brainwashed her into joining you?”

“I made my own choice,” she replies, tone as sharp as the knife she twirls with nimble fingers. It doesn’t gleam like metal, instead faintly sparkling just like your arrows do. Kyber crystal, you realize with a chill of uneasiness. “You don’t see me in a collar, do you?”

“Indeed, I cannot alter memories, only erase them. It was free will that brought Xi’an to me, not manipulation,” Gideon says with a smile, but his eyes glimmer in a way that makes your throat close up with fear. “She has become a loyal and valuable ally.”

Valuable. One word and your suspicions are confirmed. Collared or not, Xi’an is just as much a toy for Gideon to play with as you and Din are. The only difference is she doesn’t seem to realize she is one. Or, and this is a dangerous possibility, she does know and simply doesn’t give a damn.

“She’s your ally?” you echo, nervously licking your lips. “What does that mean?”

“She has dedicated herself to the achievement of my goal.”

You know he’s purposefully baiting you, but still you find yourself asking, “And that goal is?”

Gideon leans forward, invading your personal space even as you jerk backwards in your seat. The smile has been wiped from his face, replaced with narrowed eyes and a twisted scowl. He deliberately presses the unlit laser sword against the middle of your chest in the space between your breasts, thumb teasingly hovering over the activation button.  

When he answers, you’ve never heard anyone else speak as seriously as him.

“To finish what I started.”

The words linger in the air the same foreboding way Din’s reapers linger around hospitals. You don’t realize you’re not breathing until Gideon steps back after several pounding heartbeats pass and your lungs are on fire. You suck in a breath of relief, but your body remains tense, recognizing the dangerous situation you’re still stuck in.

“Mayfeld,” Gideon addresses the man armed with three guns who immediately straightens. “Take her back to her cell.”

You don’t resist as Mayfeld grabs you by the upper arm and tugs you out of your seat. It’d take a miracle to incapacitate him and everyone else in the room before they subdued you. No, you can’t make any rash decisions. The right moment will come, you tell yourself. It has to.

...Right?

“So, what’s it like being Death’s soulmate?”

You’re jerked out of your thoughts by Mayfeld’s voice. You side-eye him, keeping your mouth firmly shut.

“I mean, I’ve heard he never takes off the helmet,” he continues, unbothered by your silence. “But surely you must’ve seen what’s underneath there. If it were me, I’d definitely wanna know the face of the guy I’m allegedly destined to spend the rest of my life with.”

“Allegedly?” The question slips out before you can stop yourself.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m not so much a believer in fate or destiny or true love. And now that I know the guy who’s the boss of Cupid operations?” He huffs out a breath, shaking his head. “Forget about ever trying to convince me the universe has a mortal’s best interests in mind when it allows a Seraph as bat-shit crazy as the Moff to have the power he has.”

“If you think he’s insane, why do you work for him?”

“The pay’s good,” he answers with a laugh. “Plus, if he really does pull off this plan of his, well...let’s just say I’d rather be in his corner than anywhere else.”

“You do realize though that anyone in Gideon’s corner is an enemy of Death’s?” you say, half-taunting him half-genuinely curious about his reaction.

“That thought has recently crossed my mind,” is all he replies.

The conversation comes to a halt when you arrive back at your cell. Mayfeld pushes you inside, but the force is noticeably gentler than the thug who had manhandled you earlier. Standing near the pallet, you watch as he digs a remote out of the pocket of his pants and activates the laser grid with a single press of a button.

Interesting.

You expect Mayfeld to immediately return to Gideon’s side, so you’re surprised and more than a little confused when the man continues to linger. A minute of silence ticks by and your confusion changes to frustration. What does he want?

Just as your mouth opens to snidely voice the question, the baby chooses that precise moment to sneak back into your cell. Your heart leaps into your throat as you rush forward to grab him, torn between forcibly shoving him back into the hole or foolishly attempting to hide him behind your back.

“There’s the little green guy,” Mayfeld says, and you pause at the audible note of cheerfulness in his voice. The baby coos in your arms, waving his hand in the man’s direction.

They kriffing know each other?

Mayfeld notices your bewildered expression. “What? You think none of us noticed he doesn’t like staying put? We might be mercenaries, but we’re not complete idiots.”

“You’re a heartless bastard,” you spit, holding the baby tighter against your chest. “He’s a baby and you’re doing nothing to get him out of here.”

“First of all,” he counters, holding up a finger. “Ouch. And second,” he points that same finger directly at the baby, “that little guy is older than me so calling him a ‘baby’ isn’t exactly fair.”

Your eyes sweep over Mayfeld, estimating him to be at least forty. You then look at the green face smiling back at you. Yeah, there’s no way he’s telling the truth.

“You’re a liar.”

“Maker, the hits just keep on coming.” Mayfeld rolls his eyes. “Why would I lie about his age?”

“I…” you trail off, unable to come up with an excuse.

“Exactly.” He nods smugly. “Look, he fooled me, too, with those big brown eyes of his. If I hadn’t witnessed what he can do when that collar’s off, I might have been suckered into releasing him. He’s cute, sure, but he’s also secretly a menacing gremlin.”

You frown. “What do you mean you’ve seen what he can do?”

“I mean he’s got powers. He can lift things with his mind, throw men against walls five times his size like they weigh nothing. What’s worse is he uses those powers to steal. I had a pack of cookies I was saving and he levitated them right out of my pocket.”

Your disbelief falters at that last bit. You had already surmised the baby had stolen the cookies, but not like this. Looking down at him again, the collar stands out more prominently than ever before. Xi’an told you they were purposefully designed to prohibit the use of powers. Why else would the baby wear one if he didn’t possess some type of special ability?

“You really have some serious trust issues, don’t you?” Mayfeld says, almost sounding impressed by your stubborn reluctance to believe him.

“I’m currently being held hostage by a psychopath,” you retort. “I think I’m allowed to be suspicious of a mercenary who says everything that pops into his head.”

His lips purse. “Alright. That’s a good point.”

“Isn’t it risky?” you ask, stepping closer to the gate. “Sharing all this information with me?”

“Only if you don’t appreciate the value of it all.”

Your brow furrows, not understanding.

“Look,” he lowers his voice meaningfully. “One way or another, Gideon and Death are gonna face each other and only one side will win. Gideon wins, great. Status quo unchanged. But if your soulmate wins?” He grimaces at the prospect. “By talking to you, I’m trying to cover all my bases here.”

Your brain works rapidly to fill in the blanks. “So, let me get this straight. You think that by getting on my good side, Death won’t murder you?” A wide grin stretches across your face, not the least bit friendly. “Oh, honey, you’ve got to do so much better than that. With what you’ve given me so far, the only kindness he’ll spare you is ripping your throat out quickly so you don’t suffer long.”

Take the bait.

“Oh, yeah?” A flicker of nervousness flashes across his face. He shifts his stance, arms crossing over his chest. “What would I have to do to not have that happen? I’m, uh, open to suggestions.”

Good, good, good.

“You get me the keys to these collars, I can guarantee you’ll walk out of here with every limb attached and not one drop of blood spilt.”

A long beat passes wordlessly. It would be completely silent if not for the baby’s quiet whining as he cuddles against you, unsettled by the tense atmosphere.

“You’re not the only one with trust issues,” Mayfeld says at last. “Maybe you can guarantee Death won’t kill me, but how do I know you won’t kill me with your bow yourself?”

You say nothing, not because you’re guilty of thinking of that specific scenario, but because you don’t know how to convince him you haven’t considered it. Anyone else in your same predicament would undoubtedly shoot him the first chance they got. He is an enemy after all. A minor one, true, but nevertheless contributing to the effort of keeping you separated from Din. He also clearly only has his own self-interest in mind, making him unpredictable and untrustworthy. Who’s to say he won’t attempt to double-cross you somehow?

All these reasons are valid and should make you hate him, but something inside of you isn’t allowing you to commit wholeheartedly to the feeling. And as much as it pains you to admit it, you know that ‘something’ is fear. You’ve never killed anyone before. Shot someone with an ichor arrow? Yes, several times, but not once was the wound fatal. As your list of escape options continues to dwindle though, you’re terrified of the possibility you’ll have no choice but to personally be responsible for ending someone’s life.

“There’s my answer,” Mayfeld says. His words are distressingly ambiguous, but it’s the way he bobs his head in a decisive manner and turns his back on you that causes your stomach to tie itself into knots.

Throat suddenly dry, you struggle to choke out, “Wait, I—”

He starts whistling an upbeat tune as he walks away, ignoring your attempts at reclaiming his attention. You listen hopelessly as the sound gradually grows farther and farther away, until eventually all you can hear is silence.

And once more, it’s just you and the baby alone in the cell.

~~

You lie on the pallet, staring up at the ceiling with the baby sleeping on your stomach. You reflect on everything that has happened since you left Arvala-7, taking every moment apart piece by piece to figure out what you know.

From what you’ve witnessed, you don’t think your superiors are involved in or even aware of Moff Gideon’s plans. Lang, Hess, and Morgan were his associates, not allies like he’d called Xi’an. The difference is subtle, but profound in meaning. You wonder if the three of them have had memories erased too, if they know Gideon was responsible.

He had told them you were being hidden away to prevent other Cupids from knowing you had a second soulmate, but that wasn’t the whole truth. Gideon wants you as his hostage because you’re Din’s soulmate. He wants to use you as leverage to get Din to do what he wants. Initially, you assumed that meant kill those who Gideon considered enemies, but that assumption was proven incorrect when you sent the message to Din without naming even one potential target.

Unfortunately, you think that is not the only wrong assumption you’ve made recently. Gideon had forced you to tell Din to let go. The bond had cried out with agony when you’d said the words out loud as it had thought you were telling Din to let go of you. But looking back at the incident with a clearer head, you find yourself wondering why hadn’t Gideon included those two extra words if that was what he meant? It’s not like there wasn’t plenty of space left to write them on the paper.

If he didn’t mean for Din to let go of you, then logically that would mean he wants Din to let go of something else. Something important enough that Gideon is taking advantage of your relationship in order to convince him to release it.

But what could Din possibly possess that Gideon wants this badly? Din doesn’t own anything valuable except for the Crest and his armor, and you doubt either of those will further progress Gideon towards his goal.

To finish what I started.

Hours later and you still can’t figure out what the kriff he’s talking about. No matter which way you twist or turn the phrase over in your mind, it’s incomprehensible. What did he start? When did it happen? How does he intend to finish it?

Considering how your previous assumptions were both flawed, you really shouldn’t be making another one, but you can’t get the moment of when he’d pressed the sword against your chest out of your mind. The action itself screamed intimidation as well as sexual harassment, but when you think about how he did it at the same time he revealed his goal, your gut instinct is telling you to definitely assume the two are connected to each other.

And then there’s Mayfeld’s comment about there being an inevitable clash between Din and Gideon. He had sounded so certain there would only be one victor, but, unlike you, he hadn’t immediately placed his bet on Din. Which makes no sense to you. Everyone knows it’s an indisputable fact Din is the most powerful entity in the universe, second only to the Maker. The chance of Gideon winning their fight is so slim it’s infinitesimal.

It’s sort of funny though, to imagine Din being defeated by Gideon’s sword.

It’s sort of funny, except...

Well.

It isn’t really funny at all.

~~

Over the span of Din’s existence, he had witnessed entire civilizations wiped out by war, genocide, disease. No matter the reason behind the tragedy, the universe always called him there in the final moments to walk amongst the ruins left behind, to watch those last to die mourn those who passed before them. In those moments, he felt powerless, knowing there was not one thing he could do to change any of it.

He realized the universe was trying to instill a lesson in him: what is meant to happen, will always happen. Regardless of who is hurt in the process.

And maybe he would have surrendered to the harsh teaching if his angel hadn’t been stolen from her rightful place at his side. No one, not even the fucking universe itself, is going to stop him from getting her back.

From their first meeting, he couldn’t get her out of his mind. Then when she asked him question after question about his likes and dislikes, his hobbies, his favorite sights in the galaxy—he made the risky decision of trusting her. He revealed his face to her, allowed her to know every part of himself, and was stunned every time she didn’t fear or run away from what she discovered. He didn’t know whether to consider her stupid or brave, but the moment he first heard her laugh at one of his sarcastic quips he knew it was a sound he wanted to hear everyday for the rest of eternity.

When she showed him her marked hand, claiming they were each other’s soulmates, he swore to himself he’d dedicate himself to her happiness. Anything she wanted or asked for, he would give to her without question.

Except now she has asked him to do the impossible: to let go.

He replays the transmission enough times every word, every quiet hitch of breath, and every subtle twitch of her facial features is embedded in his mind. Bo-Katan heaves a sigh after the eighth loop, squeezing the bridge of her nose as if a headache was forming, but he can’t bring himself to tear his gaze away from the hologram long enough to glare at the reaper. She doesn’t have a soulmate, therefore she can’t even begin to fathom how it feels when his half of the soulmate bond slams itself against the invisible wall separating him from his angel with all the unhinged ferocity of a feral beast.

If Din didn’t know his angel as intimately as she knew him, he might have believed those were her own words coming out of her mouth. However, throughout the entire length of the message he notices how her eyes nervously flick to the side every few seconds, as if she needs to reassure herself someone offscreen isn’t making any sudden movements. It’s all the confirmation he needs to know she’s being used as a mouthpiece against her will to demand Din gives up searching for her.

Din refuses to yield to the whims of an enemy who doesn’t have the balls to face him directly.

He channels his seething anger into steadfast determination as he stretches his powers out across the galaxy for a second time, this time searching for the twi’lek Hess so graciously identified for him. Her being the one to have dragged his soulmate out of Cupid headquarters couldn’t have been a random circumstance. If she has even the slightest notion of who the elusive immortal is that is responsible for shielding his angel from him, he’ll beat the name out of her just as he had her Cupid superior.

Bo-Katan, never one to stand still when she can be doing something useful, sends a message out to her fellow reapers to fill them in on the developing situation. Only Din can give them orders to follow, but she strongly recommends they interrogate any Cupid they come across for information about Xi’an.

Transmissions start flooding in an hour later of reapers reporting what they’ve learned. Turns out Xi’an is the type of person who finds joy in antagonizing others. No one claims her as their friend nor do they know what region of the galaxy she usually operates in. The most interesting tidbit learned from the interrogations is that several Cupids have admitted they often saw the twi’lek in the archives at headquarters, studying datapads and flipping through holobooks.

“She was searching for something,” Bo-Katan murmurs, brow creasing thoughtfully.

“Or she was gathering information on someone’s behalf.” Din’s eyes remained closed, focus split between the conversation and the search. “Only Cupids are allowed at their headquarters. She’d have no issue slipping in and out without anyone giving her a second—”

Every soul has a unique aura that can only be sensed by power-sensitive beings like himself. No two are the same, similar to fingerprints and snowflakes. Having a specific target in mind hastens the search of detecting them amongst the trillions of other beings inhabiting the galaxy, but it is not the fact that Din’s powers have just locked onto Xi’an’s soul that has his eyes snapping open. It is her location.

She’s on Umbriel.

“Stay with the ship,” he tells Bo-Katan.

Din teleports before the reaper responds, arriving at the front entrance of his soulmate’s apartment in the next blink. The front door is wide open and his jaw clenches as he recognizes the gesture for the taunt it is. Rolling his shoulders back, he enters the apartment, purposefully shutting and locking the door behind him.

“About time you showed up.” As soon as Din hears her voice, he’s reminded of a loth cat screeching when its tail is grabbed. The anger he’s been forcibly holding back starts to simmer beneath his armor, fingers twitching at his sides with the desire to wrap around her throat and squeeze.

He finds a purple-skinned twi’lek Cupid standing in the center of the living room. Or, what used to be considered the living room at least. Every piece of furniture has been broken and torn apart. The pile of newspapers kept in the corner are shredded and scattered across the floor. If he didn’t know how precious they were to his angel in her quest to reclaim her memories, he wouldn’t have cared about the mess, but he does know and his wrath increases exponentially.

“Xi’an,” he says, the name bitter on his tongue like a curse.

“The rumor mill says you’ve been looking for me,” she drawls, looking coy and fluttering her eyelashes. “I gotta say, I’m flattered by the attention.”

“Tell me where my soulmate is and you won’t meet the same fate as your boss.”

Her head tilts, tapping her fingers against her chin in mock thoughtfulness. “Are you referring to Hess? I heard no one’s been able to reach him lately, but since I report to someone of much higher ranking I could hardly bring myself to care.” Her lips curl into a wicked smirk, revealing the faintest glimpse of her fangs. “You’ve piqued my interest now though, what’d you do to the bastard?”

“I ripped out his soul and crushed it into dust.”

She giggles, unpleasant and shrill. “How scandalous.”

His patience snaps.

“Enough of this.” He steps forward. “Tell me who you work for and where is my soulmate.”

A pair of knives appear in her hands, summoned in the same quick manner as his angel had drawn her bow.

“My answer to the first part is no. And as for the second, you need to be more specific.” She sneers. “Which part of her are you looking for?”

The noise that tears itself out of Din’s throat is one never made by another entity before. It is an outburst of ravenous fury, a promise of bloodshed and carnage, and a predator’s roar before they consume their prey all blended into one deafening war cry.

Xi’an maintains a brave face as she throws knife after knife at him, but as each one harmlessly deflects off his beskar and dissolves into a flicker of light, he sees her mask begin to crack, revealing her nervousness.

She resorts to throwing punches when he’s close enough, but there is no finesse and each one is sloppy. He catches her fist mid-swing with his own hand and twists, shattering her wrist. She gasps out a curse, but the unexpected reappearance of her mischievous smirk manages to catch him off guard.

“Are you gonna do it?” she asks, voice tight with pain, but the intent to provoke him is clear. “Unleash that beautiful darkness I can sense writhing around inside of you?”

He pins her against the wall harsh enough her teeth audibly clack against each other. Still she keeps smirking, still her voice drips like poison into his ears.

“You know you want to, sweetie, so just let go.”

Din’s powers lash out, incensed by those two words he’s sick of hearing. Latching onto her soul, she starts to choke, but the deranged glimmer of glee in her eyes makes him think she’d be laughing if she could.

Darkness starts to ooze out of his armor, resembling thick, black smoke. He can feel the sinister energy emanating from the very core of his being, as if the box it’s been trapped in has been unlocked and is seconds away from bursting open.

Some distant, far part of him is ringing every warning alarm and urging him to stop. But he ignores that voice of reason when he sees Xi’an’s soul start creeping up the back of her mouth, glowing brightly as it squirms in a futile attempt to free itself from the hold of his powers.

He grits his teeth, impatience prompting him to tug at it again, and—

The world lurches and transforms in a blur. When his vision adjusts, he’s no longer standing in his soulmate’s apartment, but instead surrounded by an abundance of scorched trees. Chest heaving, he struggles to clear his head of violent thoughts and make sense of what just happened.

Someone suddenly calls out from behind him, “I summoned you here to speak with you.”

Din recognizes the speaker’s voice before he actually turns to see the female togruta. She wears her usual blue-and-silver tunic and a brown headpiece embedded with a gem over her montrals. The ground is green beneath her feet, the only glimpse of flourishing nature for miles.

“I was in the middle of something, Ahsoka,” Din answers, stalking forward until they stand nearly toe to toe. He’s lost count of how many encounters they’ve had with one another over the years, but no matter the number he remains reluctant to consider her a friend since the Oracle has the irritating knack for disrupting his life when he least desires her presence.

She stands tall, but her hands move to rest on the hilts of the two sabers attached to her belt. “Have you forgotten your creed? When the universe needs you, you listen to it.”

“My soulmate needs me!” he shouts, trembling as another pulse of dark energy discharges from his body. It washes over Ahsoka like a harsh gust of wind, but while she remains unaffected, the patch of grass withers instantaneously.

“The universe recognizes that,” Ahsoka says, and while her calmness does nothing to ease his frayed nerves, her next words have him freezing in place. “And I’ll take you to her so long as you promise me one thing.”

Tentative hope slices through the erratic storm of frenzied emotions in his chest like a beam of sunlight. He searches Ahsoka’s face for the faintest hint of deception, but finds only sincerity.

“What is it?”

“You cannot kill Moff Gideon.”

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[prettyboybarzal]

Dancing with Our Hands Tied (2)

Pairing: Pierre Luc Dubois x Reader

A/N: Hello, angels!!! Here is part two... As always, let me know what you think! Part three is almost done and will be out next Sunday at 8pm. 

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: Alcohol consumption

Previous Chapter // Masterlist // Next Chapter

“You’re practically jail bait for these men, do you understand?”

“I’m 21, not 18,” Sadie protested. It was 9 p.m. on a Friday night and you were standing outside Josh’s apartment dressed for a night out. You were reading her the riot act, knowing damn well that it was probably going in one ear and out the other.

“21 is young enough,” you argued. She rolled her eyes as you continued. “If you can’t find me while we’re out, look for Josh. Or Seth. Or Boone.”

“YN, everything’s gonna be fine.”

“I really hope so.”

The entire week leading up to Sadie’s arrival was stressful to say the least. You had to childproof your entire life just to have a problem free weekend with her, and that included childproofing the boys too.

Because Josh had met Sadie plenty of times before, he was more than happy to have everyone over his house for pre-drinks. It took a weight off your shoulders because being in an enclosed space with your closest friends meant it would be easier to keep tabs on how much alcohol she was consuming. And the more people she met before hitting the club meant there were more people keeping an eye out for her, and you need all eyes on her. 

Well, almost all of them. You could do without Pierre’s.

Josh’s apartment was already loud when you arrived, which came as no surprise considering about half the Blue Jackets were inside. When you entered, Sadie gazed around at his apartment like a kid in a candy story.

“This is where Josh lives?”

“This is what a cushy job gets you in Columbus.”

“Why didn’t Mom and Dad force us to become athletes?”

You ventured into the living room and were greeted by an assortment of hoots and hollers. Josh swept Sadie up in a big hug before introducing her to the rest of the boys and some girlfriends in a pretty general introduction. Seth slipped a beer into your hand with a knowing smile that screamed, “I got you. Stop stressing.”

Pierre wasn’t there and you were naive enough to think he might’ve passed on a night out, but then the front door swung open and he was sauntering in with a rack of beers in his hand. Sadie’s eyes cut to yours as he made his rounds to say hello.

When he reached her, he came up short. He narrowed his eyes as he studied the all too familiar facial features.

“You’re YN’s sister,” he spoke. “I’m assuming you already hate me.”

“More or less.”

“I’ll have fun trying to prove you wrong tonight then.”

He stepped away from her and said hello to the remaining few before completely ignoring you and slipping into the kitchen to put his beers in the fridge.

---

The executive decision was made to leave Josh’s apartment around 9:30 p.m., so while you ran off to the bathroom to get ready to go, Sadie flitted off to the kitchen for one final drink. Pierre did the same. When he entered, she was standing in front of the liquor, studying each bottle.

She didn’t even spare him a glance, having clocked him through her peripheral vision and deciding not to engage. He opened the fridge and reached in to receive a new bottle.

“You go to Ohio State, right?” he asked after popping the cap off.

She looked uncertain of him when he asked, but responded, “Yeah, I do.”

“You’re in the,” he paused, thinking for a moment about her class placement, “third year?”

“Yep.”

“How do you like it?” he asked, cocking his hip against the counter. He watched as Sadie poured herself another drink. She sipped it for taste, then added a little more Vodka. “I always got a little jealous of my friends who got to go to school.”

“It’s great,” she answered. “But I don’t think you’re missing out. If you make anything close to what Josh does, I should be jealous of you.” He chuckled softly, lifting the mouth of the bottle to his lips for a swig. She narrowed her eyes at him. “What did you do to my sister?”

He placed the bottle on the counter beside him, fingers swiping along the condensation settling against the label.

“I didn’t make the best first impression and she never gave me the chance to right that wrong,” he answered honestly. “It’s all good, though. I don’t need her to like me.”

Sadie caught the uneasy shift of his eyes from hers to the bottle beside him and decided that he had a shit poker face. 

“She’s a tough cookie sometimes,” she murmured. He nodded in agreement, eyebrows nearly raised to his hairline. 

“She’s determined, I’ll give her that,” he huffed, shaking his head to himself and taking another sip of beer. 

“I’m pretty sure she didn’t like me the first five years I was alive, so don’t worry, maybe you’ll win her over,” Sadie shrugged, giving Pierre a knowing look that he tried to ignore. If he was going to go around spilling secrets to anyone the last person he would choose was your little sister.

“Crazier things have happened, right?”

“Sure,” she said softly. Her eyes lingered on him for a moment like she was trying to decipher what he wasn’t saying. Pierre felt uncomfortable under her gaze, lifting his beer bottle to her and slipping out of the kitchen before she could make him sweat anymore than she already had. 

---

As soon as you walked into the club, you threw an arm over Sadie’s shoulder and led her to the bar. Josh and Pierre followed a few steps behind you as the rest of the group left to grab a table. Sadie’s eyes lit up as she studied every bit of the place you all frequented, overjoyed to finally be a part of your Columbus crew.

Sadie propped herself up onto one of the barstools at the bar and you stood beside her to wave down the bartender at the other end. Behind you, Josh and Pierre waited, deep in conversation about something to do with the team.

The bartender was quick to attend to your needs, dropping your drinks off swiftly before moving on to the next group of patrons.

You were busy surveying the land for potential suitors for the evening, not exactly sure if you wanted to end up in Charlie’s bed again or not. For some reason you were finding it hard to take interest in any of the men mingling around the bar with Pierre’s cologne overwhelming your senses as he stood just a few feet behind you. 

Sadie seemed to have no interest in the men that were hanging around the bar, which made you feel better at first. That is, until you realized she was eyeing up Pierre and then shifting her gaze back to you. She was up to something, that was never a good sign. 

“His name matches his face,” Sadie spoke after glancing at Pierre over your shoulder.

“What does that even mean?”

“He’s fucking hot!” she exclaimed. Her voice carried and while you choked on your drink in front of her, Pierre choked on his own in front of Josh.

“You heard that?” Josh asked him with an amused smile. He nodded slowly, desperately trying to push her words out of his mind. “YN’s blood is probably boiling.”

“I have a feeling I’m going to be castrated by the end of the night.”

“It was nice knowing you, buddy,” Josh teased. 

As you and Sadie stepped away from the bar, Josh grabbed your sister and pulled her into his side. Left in their wake, Pierre fell into step with you. 

“You talk about me to your little sister?”

“Only to tell her how insufferable you are,” you informed him. He grinned, like he always did, like he was one step ahead of you. “Whatever she said to you, don’t believe. She’s a liar.”

“So, she was lying when she said I’m fucking hot?”

You turned to face him, standing tall even though he was basically a foot taller than you. You raised your voice just enough to beat out the music, growling, “If you try anything with my sister, I will literally--” 

“Holy shit, I’m kidding,” he said gruffly, an exasperated sigh attached to the end of the sentence. He shook his head, mumbling as he brushed past you on the way back to the booth. “I don’t want your little sister, YN.”

---

Two hours later, Pierre was wandering the bar in search of someone new to occupy his time. He’d been with a group of co-eds for a bit, one of which he’d slept with once before, but they’d decided to leave for another bar. And though he’d been invited, he decided to stick with his real friends.

It had to be somewhere around midnight when he slipped past the bar and noticed Sadie at the end without any of her appointed babysitters and immediately felt worry bubbling up in his stomach. She was the youngest in the bar and seemed a little unsteady on her feet, and even though you told him to stay away, the creeps eyeing her down from the other side gave him bad vibes.

So, he stepped up beside her and leaned against the bar with a smile. 

“Bonjour!”

“Hey, Sadie,” he greeted her. She hiccuped. “You good?”

“Oh, I’m fine,” she slurred. “I’m getting another Tequila shot.”

“Do you need one?” he asked. His tone of voice was teasing, but the concern was clear on his face. When she turned to look at him, he saw how strikingly similar she looked to you. It was probably the glare on her face that did it.

“I want one,” she repeated. “And you’re going to take one with me.”

“Well, okay.”

Pierre had seen this one too many times before. He knew this shot was going to be the end to her night, but it didn’t matter how hard he tried to stop her, it wasn’t going to work. The bartender brought the liquor over and after some convincing on Sadie’s part, he poured a shot for himself as well.

The tequila went down easy for the two men, but the look on Sadie’s face told Pierre that she also knew that shot was going to be her night’s death sentence.

“You look pale.”

“Let’s go sit,” she murmured, grabbing his wrist and pulling him with her towards the booth with the rest of the group. Seth caught Pierre’s frantic eyes as they approached.

“She’s going to be sick,” he whispered as soon as they were standing beside each other. They both looked up at Sadie who’d taken up residence at the end of the table, knuckles white from from clutching the top. “Where’s YN?”

“I have no clue,” Seth answered. “The bathroom maybe.”

Just as Pierre started to look around the bar, hoping to find you in the crowd, Sadie lurched slightly. 

“I need to get her out of here,” he said. “If she throws up here, YN would never want to come back and she loves this place.”

“Do you want me to just take her?”

It was a good question and Pierre stopped to think for a moment about the answer. Seth could take Sadie off his hands and he could go about his night normally, or he could prove to you that he wasn’t the asshole you painted him out to be. For whatever reason, he chose the latter.

“No, I got her,” he said. “Let YN know what’s going on, would you?”

---

You returned to the table not even fifteen minutes later, already pissed off because of how long the bathroom line was. Needless to say, Seth letting you know that Pierre had taken Sadie back to your place was not what you wanted to hear. 

“You let her leave this bar with Pierre?”

His fingers danced nervously along the beer bottle in his hand. The 6’ 4” defenseman was utterly terrified of your wrath, and had you not been so pissed off, you would’ve thrived in the feeling. “I know you hate him, but he was just trying to help out.”

“Help out?” you repeated. “You think Pierre would do something out of the kindness of his own heart for me, Jonesy?” He nodded a bit sheepishly. “You’re delusional.”

With that, you snatched your purse off the table and stormed out of the bar in pursuit of your apartment. The walk was only about ten minutes long and, quite frankly, you didn’t give a shit that you were walking through the city at night in a short little dress. You were a woman on a mission and anyone that crossed your path with the wrong intention was going to get your wrath, and it seemed that everyone knew that because you weren’t bothered once. 

You threw your door open once it was unlocked and the decorations on the wall rattled as the door hit the wall beside it. Pierre, who’d been standing outside the bathroom door, jumped out of his skin at the sound. He righted himself and stood tall as you entered the hallway unsure of what type of reaction he was going to receive from you. 

You hardly looked at him as you barked, “Where is she?”

“Puking.”

He leaned forward and pushed the bathroom door open a bit wider, revealing Sadie with her head on the toilet seat. You huffed as you entered and kicked the door closed in his face before slumping down beside her.

“Sadie, what the fuck?”

“I suck.”

“How much did you have to drink?” you asked, hand rubbing comforting circles on her back. 

“I was trying to keep up with your friends,” she murmured before gagging into the toilet again.

“You know that they’re all well above six feet and weigh like two hundred more pounds than you, right?” you stated. She nodded and groaned pathetically. “You should’ve known better.”

She didn’t offer a response to your chastising and instead sat up to look at you and said, “I thought I wasn’t going to like him.”

You raised your eyebrows at her.

“Pierre?”

“Yeah. He’s actually a really nice guy,” she grumbled, dropping her head back into her hand that was propped up on the toilet. “Held my hair back for me.”

With an eye roll and a grunt, you stood to leave her to fend for herself.

“Wait,” she called as soon as your hand was on the door knob. “Can you tell Pierre that I’m sorry I ruined his night?”

“Sure.”

“Be nice to him.”

“No promises,” you grunted, pulling the door open to kick the hockey player out of your house.

---

Pierre was uncomfortable in your apartment. Before you arrived, he was too worried about Sadie to even think about the fact that he was in the middle of your personal space. But now, as you sat with her in the other room and he stood in the living room lurking, he knew he didn’t belong.

There were books decorating your coffee table and plants hanging from the ceiling above him. The television stand was cluttered with picture frames of your family and friends from home. His eyes caught on a photo strip from a Blue Jackets event. Josh’s arm was slung over your shoulders, yours wrapped around his waist, both of you clearly hammered and smiling like two idiots who’d been sitting at the open bar all night. 

Although he couldn’t remember much of that night, thanks to the date he was entertaining, he did remember one thing. He remembered the dress you wore. 

It was this dark blue, almost navy dress, and there was a slit up your leg to your thigh that he kept finding himself gazing at. For the first time since he met you, he thought about what it would be like to feel your body against his, to slide his hand up and between your thighs in the middle of a team event just because he could. 

When he got home later that night after dropping his date at home, he jumped beneath a cold stream of water in the shower. He was desperate to clear his mind of every dirty thought that included you. In the end, the only thing that could clear it was release and he ended up jerking off in the shower despite himself.

“I could’ve used a text. I was worried sick.” 

You snuck up on him, leaving him with no time to pretend like he hadn’t been staring at you in each of your photos.

“I would’ve texted you but, in completely unsurprising news, I don’t have your number,” he said defensively. 

It wasn’t like he was expecting you to grovel at his feet for making sure your sister didn’t vomit in the middle of your favorite club, but he would’ve appreciated a little less attitude or a simple ‘thank you’. 

“Her phone was dead, too, and she started throwing up in a bush, so I was a little more concerned about holding her hair back than calling you right away.”

Your mouth snapped shut.

“Anyway, you’re welcome.”

Your mother would kill you if she saw you now. You didn’t even say thank you. 

But, before your mouth could catch up to the thanks at the tip of your tongue, Pierre was pulling the apartment door open and disappearing down the hall. Not even a parting glance was sent your way.

[liddolwhynot2000]

Chains: Part 2

____________________________________

Summary: Without thinking, you spoke up, feeling oddly hopeful.

'Any chances you want to.. Come in and have some tea?'

____________________________________

Pairings: Levi/Reader, Erwin/reader

Genre: Some fluff, liddol angst

____________________________________

ChainsPt1. ChainsPt3. ChainsPt4

Drabble#1

____________________________________

Out of all your memories, an entertaining memory for you to look back on would be the first time you met Levi Ackerman.

It had been an unusually quiet day, not many people had come to the resteraunt, leaving you with less work then usual. When the bell had chimed, you had decided to take the order, bored out of your mind. Much to your surprise, it was Erwin, followed by three other soldiers.

After exchanging pleasantries, you seated them and brought out the menu's. Erwin left, after asking you to note their bill in his tab.

You observed that the young girl was rather chipper and nice, while the blonde man was polite and charming. The man with dark hair and dark eyes, he hardly paid you any mind, not even bothering to spare you a glance. Overall, they had been pleasant enough, eating quietly and calmly.

Once you had served them tea, however, some accdientally spilled on the dark haired man's shirt and arm. He had hissed in pain, and you had immediately begun rubbing a cloth over his arm, before grabbing him gently by the wrist and dragging him to the nearby restroom, despite his complaints.

'I'm fine, let go of my ha-'

'Please don't be difficult, I'm trying to help you. '

Dark eyes flashed dangerously at you but you held firm and began washing his arm, causing him to grunt a little.

'I don't need your fucking help-'

You ignored him and went to grab the medical kit.

'We have a gel for burns. It'll sting a lot though'

By now, you had managed to make him sit down. The look on his face gave away how he would rather jump out the window then sit here. He rolled up his sleeves, unwilling to take off his shirt infront of you, despite the tea stain. You quietly began applying the cream, trying your hardest to be gentle as he hissed.

'I'm from the underground. '

'So?'

'Do you not know what that place is-'

'I know about the underground area in Wall Sina, yes.'

'Then you should know your helping underground scum, touching his filthy skin'

'Don't be ridiculous, I don't care where you're from. '

He grunted, obviously not believing you. Clearly, he hadn't been treated well because of where he was from. Sighing, you finished applying the cream and went to put the box away and get him a new shirt.

'Stay here, I'll be right back'

A barely perceptible nod was your answer. You went outside, and upon noting the concerned look on his friends faces, assured them that he was okay. You learned their names were Farlan and Isabel.

'He's not in the best mood right now, but he'll be okay'

'Levi aniki is always in a grumpy mood, like an old man-'

'Isabel if he hears you say that-'

Giggling, you made your back to Levi, having gotten a fresh shirt from one of the cooks. You were still smiling as you approached him, causing him to look at you apprehensively

'What's with that shitty smile?'

'Your friends are rather amusing. '

He eyed you warily, before gesturing for you to leave. When he came out, they had all decided to leave. You made your way to Isabel, handing her a box full of some dessert, much to her delight.

'Consider this my way of apologising for spilling tea on your Levi aniki.'

Isabel beamed at you, an impossibly wide grin spreading on her face. Farlan smiled too, while Levi clucked his tongue and made to leave without another word.

'Uh sorry he's a little-'

You waved off Farlan apology, assuring him it was fine. You smiled at them as they left, feeling good about today.

You silently wondered what Levi would make of the Lemon cookies you had specifically given him, along with the note that told him he was the first to try that recipe.

Maybe that would show him that some people didn't think of him as less for being from the underground.

____________________________________

The next time you saw Levi, it was about a month later. It had been at the market, you had been bargaining with the shopkeeper over tomatoes as you caught sight of him and his friends.

Isabel noticed you first, smiling brightly and rushing to you. Farlan had followed calmly, chuckling as Isabel gushed to you about how much she had enjoyed the treats. Levi, with two brooms strapped to his back, rolled his eyes and made eye contact with you as acknowledgement.

You smiled amiably and chatted with them briefly, promising Isabel you would write down the recipe for the cupcakes you had made and questioning them about how they had been settling in the corps.

Twenty minutes later, in a twist of events masterminded by Farlan, you were walking back home accompanied by Levi. The silence perpetuated between the two of you, with Levi unwilling to talk much. Or at all really.

Farlan had, through some miracle, coaxed him into walking you to your house and carrying your heavy bags. The moment Levi had argued that Farlan himself could do it, he had comically feigned an arm cramp and had left to find a doctor with Isabel. Levi had glared and grumbled. You imagined he was thinking along the lines of 'oh I'll give you a reason to visit the doctor just you wait', before taking your bags from you and grumpily making you lead the way.

You lived in a decent, small, one room house not too far from the resteraunt. It was a clean area, with a small lawn attached, where you grew out fresh vegetables. You were paying a modest amount of rent for it, and someday hoped you could save enough to buy it.

'This place is filthy.'

Huffing, you turned him with an eyebrow raised. Everything was clean, in fact you had cleaned just before heading to the market.

'How so?'

'There's a pile of leaves right there. Someone spilled an obnoxiously shitty colour of paint on the fence. And, I just saw a mouse run by.'

Alarmed, you backed away from your lawn, eyeing your surroundings suspiciously.

'M-mouse?'

His expression had broken a little, showing some thinly veiled amusement. Too bad you were too worried about rodents crawling into your bed at night and hence, unable to focus on this new development.

'Don't worry, just get blondie to handle it for you. Maybe they'll focus on munching on his eyebrows and leave you alone. '

'Blondi- you mean Erwin?'

'I'd rather not. I can wage war with demonic rats on my own. '

Shrugging, he handed your bags to you. You thanked him politely and watched as he started to walk away. Without thinking, you spoke up, feeling oddly hopeful.

'Any chances you want to.. Come in and have some tea?'

Levi froze before turning around and staring at you. His usually cold eyes flickered for a moment, a hint of something you couldn't identify had flashed in their depths. He actually seemed to entertain your offer for a minute. In the end, he opted to be as polite as possible, which was probably the work of the voice inside his head that sounded like Farlan.

'Maybe.. some other time. Say hi to the rat for me. '

'The only greetings that rat is getting is in the form of a wack from my broom.'

'Tch- don't damage the broom.'

'It's the only weapon I have. What else can I do?'

'Co exist with the rat. Maybe it'll introduce you to its family. It's tiny, shitty babies probably'

The image of that made you feel rather sick, and it showed on your face. Levi smirked, before turning around to walk.

'Thank you.'

It was hardly audible but you heard it. You watched with wide eyes, as his small form faded out of your vision. He didn't turn back to look for your reaction or elaborate but you knew exactly what he had thanked you for.

With a smile, you went inside. You would think more about Levi later, for now, there was a rat to be dealt with. As if on cue, you heard something shatter, making you sigh.

It was going to be a long day.

____________________________________

The night sky was beautiful tonight, stars sparkling, a calm breeze drifting throughout. It was rather quiet, but you found the calm to be soothing as you walked back home.

For some reason, you felt like taking the long way home. This path usually meant passing by the survey corps headquarters. Humming, you walked passed it, contemplating what to make for dinner. Just as you almost left the building behind, you noticed a hunched figure, sitting with their back to a wall.

You could hardly make out who it was, so you cautiously moved forward, heart in your throat, to catch sight of the stranger

It was a soldier. The way they were mindlessly staring at the ground gave away the despair they were feeling. The Survey Corps had come back from an expedition this morning but you hadn't seen them return, too busy filling out tax forms.

You accidentally stepped on a twig, the snap sound causing you to still with your eyes wide. With baited breath, you watched the soldier lift his head and turn in the direction of the sound, showing you their identity.

'Levi?'

Familiarity flashed in his eyes as he got up and started walking towards you.

'Are you oka-'

'Is it too late to take you up on that cup of tea?'

'Huh?'

____________________________________

You and Levi had ended up friends after that. You had comforted him upon learning of Isabel and Farlans deaths, wishing that the lighthearted duo had gotten to live longer and see what the world above had to offer them. You hadn't known them well, but you could tell they were the good sort.

Levi began approaching you after that, often dropping by the resteraunt. You would sometimes visit him, giving him some homemade lunch. The two of you often enjoyed eating together in comfortable silence, the conversation pleasant and amiable. Banter with him, much to your own surprise, made you laugh and feel alive.

'the rats are still living around your house aren't they?'

'I've been trying to scare them off but-'

'You want to help raise its shitty brats?'

'No- I don't want to-'

'Just admit it. You like those filthy monsters.'

'No~'

'Then I'll just visit and throw them out for you.'

'.. You're mean.'

You smiled to yourself, biting your lip as you flushed a little, remembering your conversations with him.

'You like him don't you?'

'Like who?'

'Commander Blondie.'

You paused

'I used to. Not anymore'.

'I see. So he's a blind idiot huh?'

The last part had been muttered under his breath, clearly not meant for your ears. But you had heard him anyways and only barely managed to hide your blush from him.

You could only hope Levi's heart beat as fast as yours when the two of you were together.

____________________________________

'I'm being promoted to captain.'

You paused in cutting vegetables, startled, before turning to Levi.

'A-Are you serious?'

'Yeah.'

You put the knife down, making your way to the man casually munching on lemon cookies.

'That's amazing! And to think you haven't been in the corps that long either. Wait- how could you sit here for so long and not tell me huh?'

'I was enjoying the cookies.'

'Honestly-'

You went off on a rant, telling him you would make him his favorite dish as celebration, and maybe you would even get some meat. You were genuinely happy for Levi, knowing he deserved this promotion.

As you moved about the kitchen, looking for supplies, you completely missed the fond smile he had directed at you.

____________________________________

'Captain, I'm in love with you. '

You froze, your hand on the door knob, as throat suddenly constricted at the sound of Petra's voice. You immediately backed away from the door, an awful feeling swelling up in your chest.

Petra, sweet, kind hearted Petra, who never had a bad thing to say about anyone. You knew, given her personality, it was difficult to not love someone like her. She often reminded you of Marie, vibrant and beautiful. She was a strong and capable soldier, one who had garnered the respect of all her cormades almost immediately.

Only a fool would turn Petra down. And you knew Levi was anything but a fool.

Tense, you leaned into the door again, heart steeled as you listened in.

'...give you a chance.. '

Your eyes closed in resignation at Levi's voice, lips tugging into a frown. Holding your tears at bay, you tightly grasped the lunch box you had brought for him and began to walk away.

Erwin had chosen Marie and Levi had chosen Petra. And you couldn't blame either of them for it. Because what could a mousy woman like you offer? Especially when compared to women like them? Even you would choose them over yourself.

History really had repeated itself and with that thought, you began to chain your heart up again.

____________________________________

'Oi where the hell have you been?'

Caught unaware, you nearly dropped the dishes in your hands.

'L-Levi, its been a while. How have you been?'

You smiled at him pleasantly, uneasily noting how his irritated his expression was. Maybe he and Petra had gotten into a fight?

'Where. Have. You. Been?'

The dangerous tone had you nervously chuckling.

'Where I always am-'

'I haven't seen you in three weeks.'

'I haven't had enough time to drop by and -'

'And you always arrive early and leave early, right before I come see you.'

'The new hours are exhausting, blame the boss he-'

You trailed off, faltering at the sight of Levi. He looked his perfect self, clothes impeccable, hair properly brushed. But his eyes were a different story, one that made your heart clench and the newly formed chains to violently rattle.

He looked hurt.

'I haven't been trying to avoid you-'

'Yes you have.'

'No, I just didn't think Petra would like another woman being so close to-'

Levi's expression lit up in fury and he was in front of you in seconds, hands grabbing your shoulders. There was something deseprate about the way he was looking at you.

'Did Petra say something to you? Is that it? I'll put her on stable duty for the rest of her shitty life-'

'No she didn't say anything-'

'Then why have you been avoiding me?'

'Because I wanted to give you and your girlfriend space!'

Silence. Absolute silence.

Levi looked bewildered, an expression uncommon for his usually stoic self. He took in your sad expression as understanding dawned on him and sighed in exasperation.

The hands that had been grabbing your shoulders, lowered themselves to your upper arms. You were pushed into the counter behind you. Levi was only a little taller then you, just enough for him to have to look down at you. His expression was so soft and you were so focused on it that you didn't even notice the chains effortlessly untangling themselves.

'I don't know why you think this, but Petra and I aren't together. At all.'

'But I heard-'

'She confessed to me. I turned her down. She's just a comrade.'

Feeling embarrassed, you could only let out an 'oh' and stare at your shoes. The sound of a chuckle had you blinking as a hand gasped your chin and nudged it upwards so you would look at him.

'However, there is this girl I like. '

His other arm slid down to your waist, wrapping around it. You couldn't bring yourself to look away, hardly any words escaping your mouth.

'I've liked her since I met her.'

Your hair, which was messily getting in your eyes, was gently tucked behind your ear. The same hand then went to snag your wrist, gesturing for it to wrap around his neck. Your arms obeyed him without question.

'Isabel and Farlan wanted me to ask her out. They were always being little shits and teasing me about her.'

Your heart skipped a beat, you felt too light as he lowered his lips to yours. Just a little more distance and the two of you would be-

'She lives with a filthy rat and its family.'

'Hey! It's not my fault they keep coming back-'

Your indignant defense of your unorthodox pets was cut off as gentle lips pressed against yours. Your eyes closed as you melted into him, feeling like you were on cloud nine and too caught up in him to register anything else.

There was a time you had released the chains surrounding your heart on your own, but this time, they had turned to dust and ceased to exist. Never to be recreated, simply because you wouldn't ever need them again.

Too bad the reason for the chains existing in the first place, had to watch it happen with his own eyes. Levi wasn't a fool, Erwin deduced to himself. But as he watched you embrace Levi and smile so brilliantly, Erwin knew that the only real fool was him.

With that, he silently walked away from the door Levi had left open. He needed a drink.

____________________________________

A/N: ta daa! I hope y'all enjoyed that! I'm tempted to do a smol part 3 From Erwin's perspective. But that depends on if y'all even want it. Till next time people! ⭐

[maria-scribbles]

cocoa

sick of hearing his parents fight day after day, reggie goes to the one person who knows exactly what he's going through: the pretty violinist who lives next door.

fandom: julie and the phantoms

ship: alive!reggie x reader

word count: 1.5k+

featuring: swearing (as always), fighting, allusion to an abusive relationship, general sadness, mention of a family member’s death

a/n: day 2 of my holiday challenge: hot chocolate! this is kind of depressing and i'm sorry, sad!reggie was stuck in my head and he wouldn't leave until i wrote this but it has kind of a hopeful ending tho so i guess that counts for something? this is also my first time writing for this fandom so forgive me if it sucks. as usual, unbetaed so all mistakes are my b.

come join my holiday challenge!

December 1994

They were fighting again. It was the same old story: his dad being an ass on purpose, his mom taking the bait, wash, rinse, repeat. Their shouts rang harshly throughout the house, gloomy and miserable despite the cheerful decorations strung up in every room and the massive Christmas tree downstairs, dressed in its festive best and looking like it came straight out of a seasonal catalog.

Reggie had gone to them at the beginning of the month, begging them not to fight, please; his everyday life was already ruined by their screaming matches and the only thing he wanted for Christmas was some peace, quiet and civility to celebrate his favorite holiday. His father had pretended not to hear his son's pleas, ignoring him completely like he always did while his mother offered a tight-lipped smile that didn't reach her eyes.

"We'll try, honey." She'd said and he knew it was a lie. His mother always lied, his father always threw a plate at her head, Reggie always wished he had the courage to run away for good, like Luke did. But he wasn't Luke, he never would be, and he just didn't have it in him to leave them, even though he was the one who came out worse for wear after each fight.

The distant shatter of ceramic drifting up the stairs was his cue to go until things cooled down again -he never stuck around after the first dish got thrown, not anymore, the scar on his arm the perfect reminder why- and so he jimmied open the window of his room and climbed down the trellis into the salty air, the crashing waves of the Pacific covering his escape like a blanket.

(He could've stormed down the stairs and slammed the door behind him and his parents still wouldn't have noticed he left but something about sneaking out and risking a broken bone made him feel alive, the same rush he felt when he was on stage, bass humming in his hands, performing alongside his bandmates and knowing they felt it, too.)

Even outside, the echoes of his parents' angry voices still rang in his ears, haunting him all the way to the house next door, its sparkling lights shining brightly and guiding him through the darkening night like a beacon. The driveway sat empty, sans for one lone bicycle haphazardly lying on its side in front of the garage and he carefully propped it up on its kickstand before climbing the stairs to the front porch.

The faint sound of a slow, somber violin came to a stop as he knocked on the door, followed by a quiet, familiar voice Reggie knew like the back of his hand.

"It's open."

He found Y/N alone on the couch, eyes downcast and fingers fiddling with the strings of the violin on her lap and she glanced up at the tap of his boots on the hardwood floor, face brightening the slightest bit at the sight of her friend rounding the corner into the living room. 

The girl didn't speak as she gently placed the instrument aside and stood, meeting him halfway and throwing her arms around his neck to draw him into a crushing hug. His own arms wrapped around her waist and held her just as tightly, his head resting on her shoulder, and the warm vanilla scent of her soft hair tickling his nose helped calm the storm in his heart.

"I'm sorry, Reg." Her voice was low and soothing in his ear and he didn't know how he could possibly hold her any tighter than he already was but he managed as he replied, "I'm sorry, too."

While his parents fought like wildfire, explosive and loud and raging with the wrong type of passion, hers were like a deep freeze, icy and cold and desolate in the worst possible way. Too many times Y/N was left to her own devices, all alone in an empty house with her thoughts and a violin her only company (at least they had given her that, the gift of music and a beautiful, expensive instrument to prove their love was real, albeit superficial).

It was some time later before she pulled back just far enough to look him in the eye and brushed a wayward strand of his dark hair back from his forehead with one calloused finger. "Okay, pity party's over. It's almost Christmas and we're not spending it being sad about shitty parents. Deal?"

She held out her pinky with one eyebrow raised expectantly and grinned when he nodded and hooked his pinky around hers. Reggie loved really liked that about her, the way she could just make all the heartache and pain and disappointment vanish from his mind like magic and replace them with thoughts of her and her sunny smile, her big heart, her touch that made the very blood in his veins spark like lightning. Y/N was his bright spot, his safe haven, and while Luke, Alex, and Bobby knew what he was going through, they just didn't understand like she did (they had their own problems to deal with, anyway, so he couldn't blame them).

"Good, now come on," She wrapped the rest of her fingers around his hand and started tugging him down the hall to the kitchen. "You're helping me make hot chocolate."

"Peppermint?" He asked, smiling when she glanced up at him with an offended look on her face.

"Duh. Only a heathen would make it without peppermint, Reginald."

Another thing he liked about her: she never did anything halfway; half-assing things, taking the easy way out, cutting corners just wasn't her style. It even applied to hot chocolate apparently, as he watched her flutter around the kitchen with practiced ease -heating milk and cream on the stove, measuring sugar and chocolate, slowly adding drops of peppermint oil- and despite her saying he was going to help, the only thing he got to do was crush some candy canes. Not that he minded, though, because while his hands could play bass like no one's business, they were a total disaster when it came to cooking and he knew Y/N was well aware of that fact, considering it took a week for the burnt popcorn smell to fade from her microwave the last time he tried. 

The violinist smiled and proudly handed him the finished drink, whipped cream piled high and candy cane bits almost overflowing from the edge of a red mug. "This is my grandma's recipe," She said, one hand holding a purple mug for herself and the other reaching to grab onto his wrist and pull him out the front door. "She'd always make it when she came to visit for the holidays and we'd sit out on the porch and watch the ocean, each and every year." 

"She was the best," Reggie said as the two sat together on the porch swing, his right side flush against her left. "I still have dreams about her cookies and wake up drooling."

The cool ocean breeze ruffled Y/N's hair and carried her laugh off down the beach. "She loved you, you know that? She was always talking about 'that nice boy next door.' Pretty sure she wanted us to get married."

"I loved her, too." He took a sip of his drink in an attempt to hide the blush that was taking over his entire face. "And we still have time for the whole marriage thing."

"I'm still waiting for my ring." She laughed again before looking down at the mug in her hands, voice becoming quiet as she replied, "I really miss her. She was the only person in my family who actually cared about me 'cause my parents sure as hell don't."

He wanted to tell her she was wrong but he knew it'd be a lie and he never did that, refusing to become a pathological liar like his mother, so instead he just wrapped an arm around her shoulders and tucked her against his side. "Hey, no more talk about shitty parents, remember?"

"Sorry, I know," She took a long sip of her cocoa, then rested her head on his shoulder with a sigh. "I just feel alone sometimes when you're not around. I mean, you have your band and I always had my grandma to talk to but now she's gone and I'm kind of...lost."

"You have the band, too, Y/N! Alex and Luke love you and Bobby, well, he's Bobby. No one really knows what goes on in that guy's head but I know he thinks you're cool. We all do, especially me, and you should know you're never alone 'cause you'll always have us."

The girl abruptly sat up and grabbed the mug from Reggie's hand before he could blink and placed it alongside her own on the floor, then threw her arms around his neck in another one of her fierce hugs.

"Has anyone told you how fucking amazing you are?" 

"You just did." He buried his blushing face in her shoulder as his arms wrapped around her waist once again. "I'm serious, Y/N. You'll always have me."

"And you'll always have me, Reg. No matter what."

And as they sat there on the porch swing, wrapped in each other's arms, Reggie knew as long as he had Y/N in his life, things were gonna be okay.

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Love Her (Part 6)

Summary: An unexpected visit causes trouble and the reader and Dean’s relationship takes a serious hit, one they might not be able to recover from...

Masterlist

Pairing: Doctor!Dean x foster daughter!reader

Word Count: 2,900ish

Warnings: language, mentions of death, injury, angst

______

Three Weeks Later

“Square up your shoulders more,” said Dean. You threw a fist into the pad he was holding, Dean stepping back a foot. “Told you so.”

“You let me have that one,” you said, throwing another punch and another before you backed off and took a deep breath. “I think I’m good.”

“Alright,” he said, setting down the mat as you ripped off your gloves and started to unravel the tape on your hands. “Oh, hey. I got you a present.”

He reached into his shorts pocket and tossed you a roll of pink tape, laughing when you gave him a glare.

“Cute,” you said, putting it away with your gloves, Dean slapping his hands on your shoulders as you headed out.

“I’m glad we found our thing to bond over,” he said. “Plus now I know if you’re ever out on a date, you can slug the guy if he gets too handsy.”

“It’s definitely helped,” you said, pausing by the stairs. “I’m not so scared anymore.”

“You need to do things for you too, Y/N. You’ve spent so long looking out for thing one and thing two up there. You have the ability to do stuff you want to now, like how you enjoy boxing,” said Dean.

“I know. Speaking of which, can I get some bath bombs for Christmas? I heard those are super nice in the tub,” you said. Dean stared at you, looking over your head.

“You’re such a girl,” he groaned, shaking his head with a smile as he walked up.

“Please?” you asked as you followed him up.

“Yes, you can get some. If it stains the tub you’re cleaning it though,” he said. 

“Can that be my other present? You cleaning?” you asked.

“Fine,” he said, pretending to sulk. “I think I can come up with a little something you’ll enjoy.”

“Dad!” said Rae, nearly running into Dean when you both came up the stairs.

“No running near the stairs, cutie. What’s up?” he asked.

“Ryan stole my cookie!” she said.

“That sounds like a you problem,” you said, Dean ruffling your head before you went into your room and hopped in your shower. You washed your hair and spent some time drying it off before throwing it up in a messy bun, changing into some comfy clothes before you headed out of your room. “Hey Dean. Could we make some Christmas cookies after dinner?”

You didn’t see him around in the kitchen though and the twins were playing in the family room.

“Dad’s outside with Paula,” said Ryan, pointing at the front door.

“She’s probably stopping by for her check in,” you said, watching the front door open. 

Something was wrong though based on both their faces when they came inside. Dean had his arms crossed and was frowning at Paula. He glanced at you and you saw him close his eyes. Paula tilted her head towards your room and your scrunched up your face.

Then you saw the empty duffel bag in her hand.

“You son of a bitch,” you said, storming over to Dean. “You-”

“Y/N,” said Paula, shoving the bag at you. “Please go pack your things.”

“Liar,” you said, Dean dropping his arms.

“I never-”

“Are the twins coming or not?” you asked Paula, getting a head shake from her. “You’re keeping them and getting rid of me. Yeah. You’re not a liar.”

“Things beyond our control are happening and this is part of that. Pack up your things,” said Paula.

“Am I coming back?” you asked. Paula looked away and you threw up your hands. “Am I ever going to see them again?”

“You’re technically a minor. It’s not-”

“So you stole my brother and sister, just like I said you would,” you said, throwing a fist at Dean. He caught it though and put his hands on your arms.

“I didn’t do this. I promise, I didn’t. I’ll get you back. I promise. I’ll figure it out,” he said.

“You’re a piece of shit,” you said, stomping on his foot.

“Y/N. That’s enough,” said Paula. “Now pack.”

“No,” said the twins, still hanging onto you tight out in the driveway half an hour later.

“I’m sorry. I’m gonna come back and get you guys as soon as I’m old enough,” you said. “It’s gonna be a little while okay?”

Paula had to help you peel them off, Dean wrapping an arm around them each to keep them from running back. 

“I will be back for them. Count on it.”

Two Years Later

“Kid, the door,” said Ben when you heard it ring. “The door!”

“I’m going!” you shouted back as you left your room. You were ready to grab whatever takeout he’d ordered for himself and his friends and throw it in his face. 

You were practically growling when you ripped the door open, blinking a few times at the sight in front of you.

“Happy birthday,” said Dean, his face afraid almost as he held out a card to you. You narrowed your eyes and went to slam the door in his face when two heads poked out from behind him. “Can we talk?”

“Hey guys,” you said, immediately getting tackled with hugs from the twins. “Been a while.”

“Dad wants to talk to you and please listen,” said Ryan.

“Yeah, please. Dad wants you to come home and so do we,” she said.

“Alright guys. Can you wait in the car for me? Whatever happens, you guys can hang out with Y/N after I’m done, okay?” he said. 

They nodded and went back to the car as you stepped outside. Dean took a seat on the front step and you did the same, Dean glancing back behind himself.

“This place is kind of a shithole,” he said.

“I’ve noticed,” you said, Dean holding out the card again. “You realize I fucking hate you, right?”

“I understand,” he said softly. “I never stopped loving you though.”

He let his finger graze over your wrist and tug on the bracelet you still wore there.

“Jo was pregnant,” said Dean. You took the card and set it aside, Dean tracing his finger over the bracelet. “She had me make this stupid bracelet. She read some parenting article or something, about father’s and kids. She thought it would be cute if I passed on something of mine to my first kid. But I never got to give it to them. I never even knew what it was it was so early. Only nine weeks in. I wanted a little girl so bad. I waited years to give this to my first child. I already lost the one and I lost you for two years. It hurt even worse this time when you left. I understand if you hate me and blame me and never forgive me. You have every right to think I abandoned you. But I gave this to you because you’re my daughter and the fact you kept it gives me a little bit of hope that you’ll give me another chance.”

“I’m sorry about your family,” you said, picking up the card. He was quiet as he moved his hand back to his lap. “I haven’t heard from you since that night.”

“I know. You were a minor. It wasn’t allowed,” he said, rubbing the heel of his palm. 

“Why are you here, Dean?”

“You’re eighteen today. You’re legally an adult,” he said, turning his head towards you.

“And?”

“And you can choose who you want to adopt you now,” he said. 

“You think I want to be adopted by you?” you scoffed. “You tell me your sob story so I’m what, more coercible?”

“I told you because you’re my child,” he said. “I want you to come home to us.”

“I don’t think that’s your-” you said before the front door opened.

“What the fuck are you doing, kid?” said Ben.

“Fuck off, Ben. Your damn pizza isn’t here,” you said, waving a hand back at him.

“Who the fuck are you? What the fuck are you doing hanging out with men half your age?” asked Ben, grabbing your arm and pulling you to your feet.

“We were just talking. I’m-” said Dean before Ben was pointing a finger in Dean’s face.

“Stay away from this little slut if you know what’s good for you,” said Ben. You winced when Ben dug in harder, Dean scoffing. “Jail bait buddy. Go find a whore at a bar.”

“Listen, buddy,” said Dean, getting in Ben’s face and giving you a front seat view. “I’d let her go if you know what’s good for you.”

“Dean, just drop it. Ben’s a dick,” you said. “He doesn’t know any better.”

“Inside,” said Ben, shoving you back through the open doorway, causing you to trip. You stood up after a second and saw Ben glare at you, Dean glaring at him with a look to kill. “If you’re gonna act like a bitch, I’ll treat you like one.”

“You’re her foster dad,” said Dean.

“She’s money every month. It don’t cost much to keep them going. Now listen. Go on down to Harry’s bar and find a slut there, okay? Pretty guy like you shouldn’t even have to pay,” said Ben.

“I’m calling Paula,” you said as you rubbed your arm, going for your room when Ben grabbed the back of your shirt collar. He moved to slam the front door in Dean’s face but Dean caught it and pushed it back open. He shoved Ben away hard and stood in front of you. 

“That’s my daughter, fuckface,” said Dean as he took your hand. “We’ll come back for your stuff later.”

“That’s called kidnapping,” said Ben as he got closer.

“She is eighteen. Today’s her birthday since you obviously don’t know that. She can choose to go wherever she wants to now,” said Dean, glancing back at you. “I’m really assuming you don’t want to stay-”

You saw Ben go for a cheap shot when Dean wasn’t looking and you pushed him out of the way.

Unfortunately with the way Dean was holding your hand, he pulled you with him and the next thing you knew, your face hurt and you fell back on the ground. You didn’t feel your head smack the tile floor and realized there was something kind of soft under it, Dean’s leg if you had to guess.

“What the fuck is wrong with you!” asked Dean to Ben as you sat up, Dean’s hands on your arms.

“My head hurts,” you said.

“You probably have a concussion,” said Dean. “Call the cops now, asshole.”

“I ain’t calling-” said Ben as Dean grumbled and pulled his phone out of his pocket. “Hey!”

“Buddy, she gets hurt, the cops are gonna be the least of your fucking problems.”

“Mild concussion,” said the doctor at the hospital an hour later. “We’ll keep her a few hours to monitor. You know the drill.”

“Yes, I do,” said Dean with a sigh. “Thanks, Cas.”

“I’ll get you guys some extra ice cream,” he said with a wink. “I wish it was under better circumstances but it’s good to see you again, Y/N.”

“Yeah,” you said, Cas leaving the room after a beat. You sighed and Dean took a seat on the edge of the bed, pushing up your sleeve to reveal the bruise Ben had left. 

“How long you been at Ben’s?” he asked.

“I went to a temporary place for a few weeks before I bounced around a lot. Only been a month,” you said, rubbing your arm. He lowered his head, raising it when Paula knocked and came inside.

“You said she was someplace safe,” said Dean.

“This is the first incident I’m aware of,” she said. “An incident you started by going to a foster child’s home.”

“She’s a fucking adult. She can have visitors,” he said. “I only went to talk to her.”

“About?” she asked.

“About adopting her,” he said. “No more of this. No more games. No more sack of shit in prison ruining her life. She is eighteen. I’ve been waiting for today for two years.”

“What are you talking about?” you said as you sat up.

“Your father-” said Dean.

“I don’t have a father,” you said.

“Your father’s hold over his parental rights was...complicated,” said Paula. “It was part of a deal he worked out to avoid a full blown murder charge. Part of that was he retained parental rights and that you were to be moved from foster homes every few months. I didn’t support it at all and tried to push back but he had information on other murder cases that was helpful so they were lenient with him.”

“The lawyers picked the cases over you. The moving around we guess was so that you’d be bitter and maybe reach other to your father. He claims now it was good when it was just you two. He only ever wanted to get rid of your mother and the twins apparently,” said Dean.

“Please leave. Both of you,” you said.

“I can’t,” said Dean. “I have to watch you. Concussion.”

“Whatever,” you said, turning on your side and staring at the wall. Paula left after a moment and you felt the bed dip some, Dean’s hand resting gently on your back.

“...His lawyer threatened to split up Rae and Ryan if we ever told you,” said Dean. 

“You adopted them, right?” you asked.

“Yeah. No one can take them away now,” he said and you nodded. “I wanted to tell you, sweetheart. Everyday I wanted to.”

You didn’t say anything, Dean pushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

“If you don’t want me anymore, I understand. But you can always see Rae and Ryan whenever you want. I will always come pick you up or you can go do things with them or you can stay with us. I don’t care if you never speak to me again. You can stay home, always,” he said.

“Stop talking, Dean,” you said.

He was silent after that, occasionally rubbing his hand up and down your back. You leaned into the touch and sighed.

“You still could have told me,” you said after a few minutes.

“I could have. Rae and Ryan’s adoption was dragged out until about last month. It was an incentive so we wouldn’t say anything,” said Dean.

“So my dad once again ruined my life so I would feel shitty enough to go see him and maybe have a relationship again. I hope someone kills him in there. I really hope someone does,” you said.

“He keeps hurting you. I don’t blame you for being angry,” said Dean, swallowing hard. “You eating enough? Getting enough sleep?”

“I guess,” you said quietly.

“How’s school?” he asked.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you said.

“Paula said you’re getting bullied.”

“My whole life I get bullied, why should school be any different?” you said.

“We can fix that. We can fix all of it,” he said. 

“I knew you for three months, if that,” you said. “I’m not the same person and neither are you. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad the twins have you. They’ll have a normal life. They were so little when they went to your house, they’ll never remember anything besides you. They’ll just remember a nice dad. But they’re too normal now and I’m too fucked up. I’m better off on my own, Dean.”

“I’m okay with starting over again,” he said. “I’ll start over as many times as we need to.”

You rolled to your back and looked up at him, Dean giving you a half-smile.

“I promised you that you’re always part of this family and I meant it,” he said. You sat up and stared at him, tears welling in your eyes. You glanced down at your bracelet and rubbed it, looking back at him. You gave him a small nod and he pulled you into a hug. 

You buried your face in his neck, Dean shushing you as you got his shirt wet.

“S’okay. You’ll be okay now, sweetheart. I promise.”

_____

A/N: Read Part 7 here!

[lolabean1998]

This Better Work Part 6

Sweet Pea X OC

Summery; Hey guys, not sure how well this is going to go but I originally put it on Wattpad so its way long, but hopefully its not horrendous. Let me know what you think! So, it follows the story line kind of, it’s not exact but I have tried and it follows my OC Ali as she navigates through the hell that is Riverdale. Whilst struggling with financial, social and romantic difficulties, she has the added pressure of keeping up with school work and bonus of being thrown into the frightening world of the criminal underground.

Side Note; None of the gifs or pictures I use are mine, I’m not talented or smart enough to even begin an attempt at making my own. Thank you to those who have such abilities and if you don’t want me using them then please let me know so I can remove them for you. 

Word Count; 5,407 (Give or Take)

Ali hid her bike half a mile from the tattoo parlour where Penny Peabody had set up shop. Sticking to the shadows as she crept silently towards the door. Picking the lock in seconds. Her father had taught her to pick car locks as her mum was always locking her keys inside. Ali tip toed in checking for an alarm system. But this was Southside and Serpent territory, so it was very unlikely. 

Thank god for honour amongst thieves, I guess. Who'd be dumb enough to break into the snake pit? Ali thought to herself and she headed cautiously to the office at the back. 

On second thought Ali, don't answer that! She chuckled when she remembered that she was probably the only person in the whole of Riverdale dumb enough to do so. She was quick to upload the virus. Making sure to infect all aspects of the computer writing the last of the code to focus on the set files. Once she was satisfied with her work, she quickly crept back to the comfort of the night air. Heaving a sigh of relief when she made it in and out without a hitch.

"OI WHAT ARE YOU DOING." A deep terrifying voice bellowed from a small huddle of bikes across the road that Ali had failed to spot. 

"Premature sigh. PREMATURE SIGH!" Ali muttered to herself as her heart rate met speeds that would put her bike to shame. She didn't have much time to plan her escape as 3 ominous figures raced furiously towards her. 

Well that’s just fucking great, Of COURSE it's them. Ali hissed internally to herself as the light of a street lamp hit the faces of her attackers. Revealing none other than Sweet Pea and Fangs charging head on towards her. 

"Wait why am I still here!" Ali thought aloud leaping into action. Just in time to avoid a large heavy fist swinging mere millimetres from her face. She didn't have time to run from the fight. She had hesitated too long. Leaving her only one option. She was going to have to fight her way out. 

She didn’t have any time to thinking before ducking from a second swing. Upper cutting Fangs before he could get another hit in. Landing a perfect jab to his diaphragm winding him instantly. Ali couldn't help but give him a sharp boot to the ribs for good measure. He had tried to hit her twice. It was only fair. One of the two Serpent boys Ali wasn't familiar with grabbed her outstretched wrist pulling her towards him. 

Dumbass took the bait! Ali smirked using the momentum of his pull to heave herself up wrapping her legs under his arm and over his shoulder hurtling him head first to the concrete. Swinging herself out the way at the last moment. 1 winded, 1 knocked out. 

Keep it up Ali-Cat! She thought. Dodging a fist to the jaw only to be caught in the ribs by a surprise attack from Sweet Pea. Jackass! Ali quickly gave the second Serpent boy a hard kick to the sternum sending him flying back. 

However, Fangs was now recovered enough to be back on his feet. Grabbing her leg before she could bring it back to the ground. Ali felt bad for Fangs. But he left her no other choice. She was just about to push herself up to kick him with her free leg. But a large pair of hands landed heavy on her shoulders gripping them tightly. She was defenceless. 

Come ON! I don't want to stab you, but I will if I must! Ali gasped exasperatedly in her head. 

Ali, determined not to seriously harm her friends, quickly twisted wrapping her hands around Sweet Peas arms kicking up with all the strength she had. Kicking Fangs square in the jaw as her legs cut swiftly through the air. Making their way up over her head and landing heavily on Sweet Peas shoulders forcing him to release the hold he had on her shoulders. Fangs staggered back. His eyes rolling in their sockets before his body dropped to the ground unconscious. Ali wasted no time in throwing her upper body backwards to the ground. Her legs gripping tightly around Sweet Pea. Slamming his back hard against the concrete. 

But he was a stubborn boy and could take a hit. His hands gripping Ali's arm as she scrambled to her feet, heaving her back down rolling her to her back before she had a chance to break free. But he slipped up. Missing Ali's free arm giving her just enough time to grab a knife from her holster. Moving the blade to press threateningly against his crotch as the giant straddled her. She had only recently fixed his jacket. She didn't want to be the first one to slice it again.

"You've got some explaining to do!" He snarled, his voice cracked and gravelly. He had just been smashed against the floor. 

Ali lay there silently. Pushing the blade harder against the inside of his thigh in response. His eye's searching her masked face. Like he was looking for something. Waiting for the ball to drop. One hand pinning Ali's hand to the ground above her head whilst the other subtly searched her pockets. Ali was so focused on planning her escape she didn't notice him pull her lock picking kit from her breast pocket. Ali could see the realization gradually begin to surface in his eyes. She had to get out of there before he recognized her. Pulling her blade swiftly from his crotch and thrusting the handle full force into the side of his ribs. Angling the blade so the handle wedged smoothly between the ribs as she struck, winding him. Giving her the opening she needed to pull her arm from his death grip punching him hard on the side of his face.

That should be a lovely shiner you fucking tosser. You're lucky I fixed up that jacket otherwise I'd have used the other side of the knife. Bean Pole! Ali huffed leaping to her feet and launching into the race of her life. If she could make it to her bike before Sweet Pea came too, she'd be in the clear! Her feet pounded hard against the ground. Legs blazing and lungs close to bursting as she whipped around the corner. Frog leaping onto her bike throwing on her helmet and taking off in one clean swoop. She tore down the street not wanting to look back. Afraid of what she might see. Her heart was still racing when she crossed the border. Only settling when her bike was safely snuggled in its little shed, with her back in the confines of her home.

"You've got a split lip Ali. Did you walk into something or were you spotted?" Rosie asked the next morning when Ali made her way groggily over to the kitchen island. Her body sore and stiff from all the galivanting of the night.

"Car part dropped as I was fitting it. But yes there was a minor hitch in an otherwise smooth mission." Ali groaned, already practicing her excuse so she wouldn't raise suspicions if she was asked about it. "Poor Fangs. He didn't deserve that last night. We should make cookies or something for him."

"Because nothing says innocent like a guilt basket!" Rosie retorted sarcastically handing her worn out daughter a large mug of steaming hot tea and a full English breakfast.

"You're right. We need a Trojan horse." Ali pondered. The two girls faces lit up into a wickedly innocent smile as Izzy skipped into the kitchen. Freezing when she spotted the concerning glares her mother and big sister were giving her.

"Whatever it is I want no part of it. That look never brings anything good!" Izzy declared edging cautiously to her seat beside her sister.

"Isabelle. My darling dearest little sister." Ali started, her voice sweeter than sugar. 

"How would you feel about a sparring session with Sami? We could bring cookies and train this afternoon. I'll teach you any move you like!" Ali offered batting her eyelashes pleadingly. Izzy had to fight the urge to leap in the air in celebration. Instead opting to play it cool even if it went against every fibre of her being.

"Since you asked so nicely. I guess it wouldn't hurt to fit in some extra practice." Izzy agreed calmly. Play it cool Izz. Play it cool. She thought fighting the grin that was tugging ferociously at her lips. It was no use. Less than a second after she had spoken her face was set alight by the happiest grin ever seen. Way to play it cool Isabelle! 

"Hey Mamma Fogarty. We were just wondering if Sami was up for a sparring session? Ali promised to teach us some of her moves since we did so well with our science project!" Izzy asked politely. Handing the tall, dark skinned woman a large box of cookies. 

"You my dear, have perfect timing. They're just round the back sparring now." Mamma Fogarty smiled pointing the girls in the direction of their friends. "He does this every time he gets into a scuffle."

"Thank you Mamma Fogarty. Enjoy the cookies!" The girls called jogging around the corner to find Sami trapped in a headlock with Fangs ruffling up her already frizzy hair.

"SWEEP HIS KNEE AND SLAM INTO HIS SIDE TO KNOCK HIM OVER!" Ali instructed. Laughing at the panicked expression that flicked over Fangs' face as he crashed into the long grass beneath him. 

"Nice job kiddo. That'll teach him for messing with the hair!" Ali grinned coming to a halt beside Fangs. Looking down and waving sarcastically down at him.

"You're such an ass sometimes Ali. Did you know that?" Fangs mocked grabbing the back of her knees and heaving them towards him sending Ali toppling over. Pulling a nervous squeak from her as she landed heavily beside him.

"Ali said she's going to teach us some of her special moves. Want to join?" Izzy grinned re-plaiting Sam's wild, untameable hair. 

"Oh cool! Can you teach us the arm swing thing? The one where you grab their arm and pull yourself to wrap around their shoulder? Can we learn that one?" Sam asked eagerly, an enthusiastic beaming glow flooding her face.

"If Fangs is up for helping then hell yes. It's one of my favourites!" Ali winked helping Fangs to his feet. The boy sighed heavily but nodded in agreement. A dark bruise already making its presence on his face known from the spot Ali had kicked him the night before. Sorry Fangs! Ali thought getting a clear view of the full extent of his injuries. 

"You sure you're up for it, you look like shit!" Ali remarked as they got into position.

"Shut up Ali. I look like shit 'cos I got in a fight last night. You just look like shit!" He quipped with a cheeky grin. "At least I have an excuse!"

"Fuck you Fangs. I was going to go easy on you. But now you're just asking to get your ass whooped!" Ali defended playfully. Unaware of the extra pair of eyes observing from the cover of the surrounding trees.

Izzy and Sam watched eagerly as Ali took them step by step through the move. Allowing them to practice on her first so she could give them the necessary pointers before they practiced on Fangs. For someone who'd had recently had his ass kicked he showed no signs of weakness. If anything, it looked like he was enjoying the extra practice. Even getting to practice the move and try out a few counter-moves on Ali. 

The girls had just finished perfecting their third new move when the figure that had been watching from the shadows decided to come forwards into the light.

"This looks like fun. Mind if I join in?" The voice called gruffly.

"SWEET PEA!" Izzy cheered running over to throw her arms around his waist in a hug. 

"Of course you can! The more the merrier!" She beamed skipping back alongside him, making his face crack into the smallest of smiles. 

"Can I try out the new moves Ali taught me on you?"

"Sure kid. Let's see what you've got!" Sweet Pea agreed. Bracing himself ready to be thrown, pushed and pulled to the ground. Grunting and groaning with each landing and giving the little girl pointers where possible.

"Hey, now that Sweet Pea's here you can show us how to defend against two opponents." Sam piped up, looking hopefully up at the older trio stood in front of her. Fangs shrugged, nodding in agreement turning to Sweet Pea awaiting his answer.

"I'm up for it if Ali is. We're all friends here." Sweet Pea paused turning to Ali, a knowing look in his eye. 

"Aren't we Ali?" He finished, twitching an eyebrow at her daringly.

"Yeah sure, why not?" Ali smiled nodding in agreement. 

"What could possibly go wrong!" She muttered sarcastically under her breath moving into position, ready to be attacked by the two boys for the second time in less than 24 hours. This time it was Sweet Pea to make the first move. Lunging forward to sweep her leg. Ali jumped out the way just in time. Grabbing his arm and using it to pull herself up to wrap around his chest trapping his arm between her powerful legs. Twisting herself to the side using her body weight to hurl the giant into his friend knocking the pair down like a set of bowling pins.

"That was awesome!" The two girls cheered giving the boys and Ali a round of applause as they got to their feet. 

"Could've done with this yesterday huh Sweet Pea." Fangs joked helping Sam perfect her stance and hold on Ali.

"Took the words right out my mouth." Sweet Pea muttered scowling suspiciously at Ali. 

This was a bad idea. This was a very bad idea! Ali cringed.

"What happened yesterday?" Sam asked curiously, helping Ali back to her feet ready for Izzy's turn. Ali felt the question slam into her like a bus. This couldn't get any worse.

"Caught someone breaking into serpent territory late last night and got our ass kicked by crazy Ninja moves like these." Fangs sighed defeatedly, the disgust of his defeat evident in his voice.

"Reckon they just got lucky." Sweet Pea baited glancing slyly over at Ali, registering the eye roll she gave his comment.

"I don't know Bean Pole. They certainly managed to give you a rather nasty black eye." She replied flicking her eyes over the deep purple bruise spreading over his eye. Her gaze breaking as she hurtled towards Fangs by Izzy's forceful swing. Ali coughed a little as she sat up feeling slightly winded, accepting the hand being offered to her. Regretting it almost immediately when Sweet Pea heaved her up pulling her uncomfortably close to him as he leant to whisper in her ear. Placing something in her hand.

"You've got some explaining to do!" He whispered glancing down to the silver writing embossed on the pale blue lock picking kit in her hand that read 'H.M'. Ali swallowed hard in a desperate attempt to drown the panic that had risen in her throat. It just got worse.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Ali replied casually. Stepping back smiling her signature smile and moving ready to teach the girls another move. The group spent the next few hours practicing moves and counter moves. With Sweet Pea keeping a very close eye on Ali.

"Ok, if you boys don't say it I will." Ali panted lying on her back in the long grass. Her cheeks flushed and head sweaty. "I'm absolutely shattered. Everything hurts and if I don't eat something soon, I'm afraid I'll eat Fangs." Ali half joked as her stomach gave a low grumble, making the team chuckle.

"Hey why me? Why not Sweet Pea? He's much bigger than me!" Fangs questioned sounding rather hurt by her suggestion, turning on his side to face his exhausted friend.

"Sweet Peas are poisonous. I'm starving not stupid. Sorry Fangs." Ali replied sympathetically before looking him over and licking her lips mockingly.

"Right Pop's it is. We can take the truck. Ali you can catch a lift with the poisonous plant. I don't feel safe being in a confined space with you right now." Fangs laughed rising to his feet and fetching his jacket and keys from the pile by the trailer.

"Come on Ali, the sooner you eat the better. You look like hell." Sweet Pea teased offering her a hand up. Scowling when she slapped his hand away.

"Last time you did that it was a trap!" Ali scorned struggling to pull her lifeless limbs into action.

"Just take the help Ali. It's becoming painful to watch." Sweet Pea coaxed smirking at her repeated failed attempts of standing. Ali huffed but took his hand only to heave him to the ground. Smiling smugly at his unamused expression.

"There, now you don't have to watch!" Ali chirped happily, rolling onto her hands and knees so she could scramble up leaving Sweet Pea in the grass. "I'll leave you here if you want."

"Oh yeah and how are you going to leave when I have your keys?" Sweet Pea asked smugly. Jingling a set of keys with a bright blue letter A hanging from them. Ali’s eyes squinting irritably for a second. Quickly returning to its previous proudly smug expression, throwing Sweet Pea completely.

"Simple," Ali chimed smugly. "I'll take yours!" She grinned waving his own set of keys back at him. 

"You're dead!" He growled playfully, leaping to his feet and grabbing Ali's waist before she could make a run for it. Throwing her over his shoulder and swiping the keys from her hand. 

"Did you just squeak like a mouse? Ali-Cat, more like Field Mouse!" Sweet Pea scoffed carrying her over to his trailer where his bike was parked.

"I'll dig my claws in if you carry on insulting me like that!" Ali threatened playfully. Trying to wiggle her way out of his grip.

"Oh no you don't. Not after that comment. You can stay there and think about what you've said!" Sweet Pea scolded slapping her ass hard as he spoke. Smirking when she squeaked at the contact.

"That's fine I've got something to keep me occupied anyway." Ali teased resting her head in her hands to stare at his ass.

"Harley Masters, are you staring at my ass?" Sweet Pea inquired playfully. Waving to Jughead who was watching in confusion as they passed his trailer. Ali's eyes flew wide open and her heart rate increased tenfold at her full name. How did he know. She immediately began trying to swing out of his hold. But he had her in a firm, unbreakable grip.

"How the-? What in the Hell did you just say?!" Ali demanded. Her brows knitted into a furious blend of panic and confusion.

"You heard!" Sweet Pea replied smugly placing her on the back of his bike and handing her his spare helmet. 

"Izzy told me all about your nickname. About how it took you ages before you could pronounce your R's properly. How you used to say Haly instead of Harley." Sweet Pea teased putting his helmet on.

"That's what you meant earlier." Ali exclaimed. "You seriously confused me!" 

"Ali what are you talking about?" Sweet Pea asked frowning.

"When you said I had some explaining to do..." Ali trailed off, avoiding Sweet Pea's leg as he swung himself on in front of her.

"Oh that. I already know what the H.M stands for. What I don't know is why you broke into Peabody's place. Hold on tight!" He called not giving Ali a chance to reply. Speeding off just as she wrapped her arms around his waist. The feeling of her hands clinging to his shirt made it very hard to concentrate as he whipped and weaved his way to Pops. Ali's mind to busy racing with an endless list of possibilities to notice what she was doing to him. What does this mean? Are Mum and Izzy going to get beaten up? Killed? Did he tell her? How did he know? What have I done? Why am I still on his bike? She felt like her mind was about to explode. 

By the time they arrived at Pops she was in full panic mode. Pulling off her helmet to reveal her bloodless face. Panic overwhelming her eyes. Sweet Peas eyes widened when he saw the fear coursing through her body sending her into small scale convulsions. Making her very uneasy on her feet when she climbed gingerly off his bike. Her centre of balance was so uneasy, he had to catch her before she fell over. Helping her back over to lean on his bike for support. 

"Ali relax I'm not going to say anything. I just want to know why. Nothings going to happen. Hell, I'm even willing to look past the fact that you pulled a knife on me." He comforted rubbing her back and pulling her into a gentle hug.

"You sure you're not going to tell Penny?" Ali asked tentatively. She wasn't so worried for herself they could do what they wanted with her. As long as they left her family out of it. 

"And you're not mad about the knife?" She looked up hesitantly up feeling ridiculously pathetic.

"The knife? No that was just self defence. The black eye however... that, I'm going to be coming back too." He joked stroking her hair, looking deep into her puppy eye's. Feeling his heart melt with every second she was with him. Ali scowled giving him a playful shove and standing up straight again.

"I found out what she was making my Uncle do and we can't afford to get caught up in anything. So I figured if she didn't have anything on him then she couldn't black mail him anymore." Ali explained, technically she hadn't lied. Just not told the whole truth.

"And you thought that was the night to do it?" He asked as they made their way into Pops. Smiling at the familiar ring of the bell as they entered.

"Look who finally decided to show up!" Fangs called dramatically as the pair joined the group at the booth in the far corner. 

"I've been stuck listening to reruns of how I got my ass kicked yesterday. And this morning!" Fangs scowled crossing his arms and turning his nose away like a drama queen.

"Man up Fangs! You're turning into a Northsider. Got your ass kicked twice in less than 24 hours and now your acting like a spoilt brat. Carry on like this and you'll be joining Ali for cheerleading practice!" Sweet Pea sassed slumping down beside his best friend.

"Ouch Sweet Pea. Even I felt the sting on that." Ali exclaimed smiling at Pops when he handed the group their milkshakes.

"You were supposed to. Cheerleaders are just preppy little bitches. It's pathetic really. All you do is bounce around grinning all the time." Sweet Pea mocked with a smirk.

"Oh yeah. I'd like to see you throw a human being in the air and catch them without damaging them, yourself and looking amazing whilst doing all that." Ali defended raising a daring eyebrow at the Serpent. 

"Thank you, Izzy, for ordering for us. It was very nice of you." She smiled turning to her little sister who was watching intently whilst she slurped her chocolate milkshake.

"No worries, but how did you know it was me?" She questioned.

"You're the only one crazy enough to tolerate spending enough time with these clowns to know their order." Sam and Fangs elaborated in chorus before bursting into hysterics at their perfect sync.

"What can I say?" Izzy shrugged nonchalantly. A playful twinkle beaming in her eyes. 

"I've got clowns to the left of me, jokers to the right. Here I am. Stuck in the middle of you!" She sang motioning either side of her to the rest of the group making everyone laugh and Ali choke on her drink. The group watched in frozen horror for moment as Ali battled against the desperate force trying to spit her drink. But after a moment struggle, she swallowed the drink with ease.

"At least now we know Ali doesn’t spit she swallows." Fangs commented nonchalantly sending everyone into another fit of giggles. 

Pops placed their order on the table once they had all calmed down. Giving Ali and Sweet Pea a knowing glance before handing Izzy a 10-dollar bill. 

"What was that?" Ali asked suspiciously before taking a large bite of her burger. Her gaze fixed on her little sister as she tucked the money into the arm pocket of her jacket.

"Nothing just tip money." She shrugged innocently. But Ali knew there was something else going on. She was her sister after all. 

"Uh huh sure it is." Ali nodded sarcastically before several waving hands caught her eye distracting her. Sweet Pea saw the focus completely disappear from her face the second the waving hands caught her attention and couldn't help but laugh.

"Is she always like this?" He asked watching as she ushered the group over to the table.

"Like what?" Izzy questioned through a mouthful of cheese burger.

"Easily distracted." He elaborated before scowling at Ali as she shuffled him over to the wall so Jughead, Betty and Cheryl could join. 

"Only when she’s trying to ignore something at the back of her mind." Izzy replied truthfully. She knew exactly what was playing on Ali's mind. The only problem? Ali didn't. 

The group spent the rest of the evening debating over the black hood and enjoying milkshakes, cheesy bites and fries. Ignoring the lingering unanswered questions and looming cloud of doom making its way closer and closer to their side of town.

"You'll never guess what's happened!" Cheryl exclaimed the second Ali took her seat in Chemistry making her jump a little.

"Oh god! What happened? Did Archie do another stupid thing again?" Ali moaned with a heavy sigh, unaware of the person sat behind them.

"Hey! What did I do to you?!" Archie gasped throwing a ball of paper at her head in mock offense. 

"OUCH!" Ali cried sarcastically. A smirk spreading across her red lips as she threw it back. 

"Sorry Arch but you have been a dumb ass lately." Ali replied before turning back to Cheryl who looked as if she was about to burst.

"Southside High got shut down so now the scumbag Snakes are being sent here!" She raged making several students jump at her sudden outburst. The thought of the serpents coming to Riverdale High sent butterflies to her stomach and she couldn't figure out why. Some of them were her friends sure but that wouldn't cause this surely? Cheryl's continuous bitching pulled Ali from her daze.

"Chill Cheryl, they aren't that bad. You got along with Fangs and Sweet Pea sort of. Ali grimaced a little at her words and the memory of Cheryl hanging out with her and the Serpents at Pops. Everything is going to be fine." Ali reassured her but she knew that come the next day, it would all go sideways. Chaos would rain down on them all. 

Cheryl spent the rest of the day whining about the Serpents and how they were going to ruin the school. It was after all, a sanctuary from her home life.

"Oh God. Why do you like the cat that ate the canary?" Ali groaned when she walked into the girls changing room. Only to discover the Vixens already in gear and rallied with Cheryl who was looking very pleased with herself. 

"Because my dear Ali-Cat, me and Reggie have come up with a solution to our little dilemma." Cheryl chirped before heading out with the rest of the cheerleading squad in quick procession.

"Oh, dear god! Of all people why Reggie?" Ali whined as she quickly threw on her cheerleading uniform. Chasing after the team of preppy teens about to pick a fight with the biggest gang in town as soon as she was dressed. 

"Too late." Ali huffed as she darted down the corridor to where Cheryl and Toni were standing toe to toe. She was just about to jump in to defend the Southsiders. To at least give them a chance but Principle Wetherbee beat her too it. Cheryl and Reggie lead their crowd of puppets away whilst Jughead led the Southsiders down the corridor to the common room, passing Ali as they went. 

"I told you when it came down to it, she was a Northsider." Sweet Pea muttered to Fangs as they passed her. His eyes scanning her uniform as they passed. 

That rat bastard! The little git thinks I'm siding with Cheryl! Ali gasped internally, watching as they disappeared around the corner.

It didn't take long for Ali to find an opportunity to redeem herself in the eyes of the Serpents. She was sat in the cafeteria talking to Varchie and Bughead about the happenings over the holidays. Laughing at the awful puns Jughead kept adding in. He seemed to be happy for the first time in a while and Ali hoped this would last forever. Queue Reggie and his team of meat heads.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" He snarled as the Bulldogs slowly surrounded the leather bound, snake tatted table. 

"This can't be anything good." Ali grumbled before standing up and strolling casually over to the table. Watching as Sweet Pea's jaw clenched, his fists balled up to the point where his knuckles were turning white. 

"Back off mutt. We don't want your fleas." Sweet Pea snarled squaring up to Reggie. His gaze stone cold as he stared down the preppy jock.

"Really Reginald? This is what you do with your spare time? Pick fights with poisonous flowers?" Ali sighed looking very unamused as she pushed herself between the two testosterone fuelled boys. 

"Stand down Mantle the Magnificent before you become Mantle the Mauled to death." She warned feeling rather annoyed at his arrogance. 

"And you can wipe the smug grin off your face too Sweet Pea. Picking a fight on the first day isn't a very clever start is it?" Ali called him out without even needing to turn around to see his smug expression. His heart was racing faster than he thought possible and he couldn't believe his eyes. 

"Sorry Princess did we disrupt your fine dining?" Sweet Pea quipped giving her a smirk and a wink as he sat back down in his chair. He could never pass up the opportunity to tease her. Ali rolled her eyes at his silly little remark and turned to leave. But just as she was about to, a large warm hand wrapped around her wrist pulling her backwards. 

"You look good in that uniform you should wear it more often." Sweet Pea whispered, his lips brushing her ear as he spoke flooding her body with butterflies. His hand was warm against her skin and she could feel the heat radiating off his muscular body. He released her hand allowing her to stand up straight. Only to grab her hands and pull her closer again. 

"Ali you're freezing." He claimed his voice filled with genuine concern as he searched her eyes. She smiled her usual bright smile shaking her head with a light chuckle.

"Pea I'm always like this. You're just freakishly warm." Ali smiled pulling her hands away and turning to walk back to her table. As for the uniform My eyes are up here, so keep them there. She warned playfully pointing to her smoky eye shadow and bright blue eyes.

"Wait!" Sweet Pea instructed stopping her in her tracks. She turned around slowly to see why he had stopped her from going back to her friends again. 

"You're going to freeze to death, and I need you to do a paint job on my bike later. This should keep you warm." Sweet Pea stated pulling a large black hoodie from his bag and handing it to Ali. Who only put it on after a stern raise of his eyebrow. 

With a reluctant huff she made her way back to her table. Who does this kid think he is? I don't need his charity.

[kandyrezi]

nothing but a heartache;

fandom: wadanohara and the great blue sea

characters/pairings: tsuribari/stella

summary: “tsuribari wondered why his chest ached painfully everytime he thought of or looked at the pretty yet sullen starfish girl.” | word count: 2.9k

warnings: mentions of death and drowning.

from a prompt: muse feels a sharp pain in their chest every time they think of their lover (or someone/thing they love)

///

tsuribari has held great distaste for a lot of things the more time that he’s been forced spend around the various people and the sea creatures who aimlessly floated around him, sprouting nothing but nonsense - as if they were mocking him. the annoying noisy places that surrounded him, no matter where he was, the buzzing at the back of his head never seemed to cease. how thickheaded everyone could be, how no one took his words seriously or dismissed him as some insignificant being, how no one appreciated a bit of silence every now and then - or better yet, just not talk at all, sew their mouths shut if he could.

(annoyances. annoyances. annoyances. nothing but.)

he chooses to sit in one of the more secluded areas of the red sea, the wooden building firm against his back as rotting seaweed grew from the sandy ground and engulfed the corners of the decaying white building, until it would inevitably vanish completely and leave nothing behind after a decennial or so. just like everything else in this sea.

stella gently leans her head against his shoulder whilst holding her knees close to her chest, wrapping her arms around her ankles. he notices her occasionally peering at the text inside the book he was reading to her (of two children kidnapped by a cannibalistic witch living in a house constructed of cookies, sweets, and other confectionery), otherwise keeping her gaze on her feet, or away from him, at the very least as to not bother him too much. whilst normally not being too keen on physical contact - even if he barely feels anything - he’d made an exception for one person.

the only one, really, he thinks.

“bookworm, bookworm, i finally get the pun, mwhee-hee! why do you always have your nose stuck in a book, worm?”

tsuribari stops reading out-loud mid-sentence, gaze hardening and fingertips gripping the edges of the cover a bit too harshly. of course sheep, of everyone, had to come taunt him and disturb the peace, yet nothing he’s not used to already. the starfish girl next to him fortunately doesn’t appear deterred in the slightest at the intrusion and continues making herself comfortable against him. the blond boy can only sigh, lowering the book only ever so slightly, barely giving them a glance.

“could you leave? you’re distracting me.”

he thinks they try too hard, no childish insult could aggravate him more than he already was at everything.

well, just about everything.

- : - : - : - : - : -

as long as he could remember, the pretty starfish - equally as apparitional and so unfeeling - girl had been alongside him, ever since when he drowned in the blue-coated sea and she’d been the first to find him. he remembered it vividly. he hated the memory, yet refused to let go of it. he’d woken up in an unknown place, everything had been swimming in front of him, both figuratively and in a very literal sense. a place so unlike of where he had never been to previously.

he could only deduce the fact he was indeed underwater, bleak and cold, something painful piercing through his head that kept him from moving on his own. there was blood in the corners of his vision, small indefinite amounts of it falling in front of him, then immediately merging with the water as it faded into minuscule drops off into the distance – upon letting his fingers graze across his scalp, brushing against something smooth and metallic that was merged with his skin, blood oozing around it as his fingers became coated in it. he flinched from the pain, his breathing felt odd and uneven – he could still breathe, but just barely.

as he began to wiggle his way around, something had moved in the distance, towards him, closer. he saw the tail slowly moving back and forth behind the sea creature, taunting its presence. his uneven breathing grew worse and his lungs felt on fire, he tried to run away, move in any way, but his feet would not allow him to. the figure in the distant grew, the nearer it swam towards him. seaweed tangled around his thighs, keeping him in place even tighter.

the blood flowing from his forehead was no doubt fresh bait for the hungry fish. the young worm boy’s panicking only grew worse at the realization, what he could only imagine being either due to lack of air or extreme anxiety caused by shock, causing him to subconsciously close his eyes and pass out.

(fear.)

it had been quiet when his eyelids slowly opened and he woke again. staring up into the beaming sunlight bathing in the tides of the sea from up above, as the blurred objects merged into a clear image, he realized he was in an entirely different area. coral plants in magenta and leaves bigger than him from earthly-colored plants circled around him as he tried to properly inspect his surroundings while groggily sitting up. still underwater unfortunately, he dully noted. there was now solid ground underneath his feet, rather rocky and not very comfortable to lay on, he decided as he rose onto his knees.

whilst inspecting, he saw that he wasn’t entirely on his own anymore, when he looked at a girl young as himself, in brunette twin-tails held in place with golden starfish and a purple uniform with a skirt, staring back at him. in wonder, perhaps, much like himself.

he sunk his fingers into his knees to stop them from shaking relentlessly. dark irises trailed back and forth, unsure what to focus his attention on with a million inquires running through his head.

“w-who are you?”

the young girl looked away timidly, instead choosing to fiddle with the hem of her skirt for a little while.

when she finally introduced herself as ‘stella’, she spoke so quietly, he tried to tune out the hammering of his heart beating against his chest, instead trying to focus on the sound of her voice. the starfish girl still refused to meet his eyes, not quite sure if she should say anything else.

it was silent between the two for about a minute.

“i took you to a safe place… away from… them.”

her voice was hoarse when she tried to speak at first, like she’s not used to doing so for long periods of time.

his fear subdued when she did though, if only by a little bit. the heart in his chest was still beating rapidly and unevenly (feeling a slight tinge of discomfort, but he felt grateful to be alive, nonetheless). he tried to reach his hand on atop of his forehead. a smooth, metallic item was still impaled through his skull and blood was still leaking from around it, though not as severely as before. thinking about it like that made him grimace, nearly becoming woozy.

after only a moment of hesitation, did he finally decide to give her his own name.

“i’m... tsuribari.”

a couple more minutes passed by in silence, only the sounds of underwater plants swaying left and right, leaves brushing against one another ringing in his ears.

“...i’ve been alone for... a while.” stella explained, though not offering much insight.

but tsuribari thought there wasn’t much of a need to. despite having preferred to spend most of his time in solitude, he knew what made others tick when he learned to observe them from afar.

“i don’t know how i got here... either.” he responded with a worry of his own.

abandoned. just like him.

he had a feeling he wouldn’t be returning home anytime soon. wherever home was anymore and if it even existed.

“...i’m scared.” tsuribari confessed with a slight quiver in his voice.

she didn’t know how to respond. comfort was a foreign concept to the starfish. stella did the only thing she could think of and slowly extended her hand towards his own, gently brushing against his fingers and grasped them, intertwining them together. his nerves had calmed down by then as he allowed her to hold his hand, no longer did he feel the suffocating agony of his throat being tightened from fright. at least he had something - or someone - to confide in.

she almost understood him the same way that he did, expressing her distress and gloom with no needed words, her solemn expression and gestures spoke for themselves.

(fear. reluctant acceptance.)

fingers intertwined as they wandered, stepping on the glistening roads made of rocks, keeping the other from falling down and bonding over the mutual feeling of being thrown away and discarded. he took in the waves of the sea now that the threat of being eaten alive wasn’t looming over him. the waves did seem to get harsher the longer they spent time out there. on land, it would have reminded him of an incoming storm (he held her hand a little tighter, just to be secure). it was a fairly secluded area where nobody would wander to without a reason.

there wasn’t a single fish in sight, other than the occasional whale shark or some other potential predator, when stella had made sure to pull the both of them out of its sight, behind a boulder of rocks big as themselves for cover.

stella told him of the war between the daughters of the sea king for their rightful place as the throne’s next princess, and tsuribari listened with intent. one of them, princess mikotsu, was on the verge of losing and it was only a question of time when the sea would split between the two sisters.

“that... seems unfair.”

stella hummed, in quiet agreement, the boy assumed.

“where will you be going, then?” he decided to ask.

“...the rightful princess.”

tsuribari could only assume that he would have to make his own judgment when the time came for it.

stella appeared just a little less taciturn when talking about something else besides herself, so tsuribari thought of asking her to tell more stories of the kingdom and its residents (a culture he hadn’t even been aware of back on land), and if they were heading somewhere at all.

they came to a sudden halt when - with hardly any warning signs - tsuribari’s legs gave out from underneath him, causing him to collapse and letting his hand slip from her own. his heart was beating rapidly once again, whereas before it was discomforting at worst, this time it felt as if his chest was going to burst at any second. panic welled up inside of him again, not understanding what was wrong with him.

dying. he was dying slowly, agonizing with the pain he was in, he came to the realization as tears threatened to prickle at the corners of his eyes.

blood seeped across his face from the wound of the hook stuck in his forehead, gradually beginning to pool around his eyes, which he could barely keep open. he saw stella kneeling by him, holding onto the sleeves of his shirt, trying to stop him from writhing and shaking.

the waves of the sea still hadn’t calmed down.

he felt cold. so very cold.

“i d-don’t want you to die. please… w-we’ll find help.” stella’s voice quivered. it was the most emotion he’d heard in her voice so far.

he just wished it’d been a different emotion.

(fear. reluctant acceptance. indifference. then...)

he felt his heart stop beating, one last time. it was painful, but he was glad she was the one he was looking at as the last thing before he’d passed out.

he didn’t need to be afraid.

- : - : - : - : - : -

“how cute, the two of you. if only old would let me lean against him, but he just gets mad everytime i touch him, mwheehee~” sheep grins.

tsuribari lifts the book again high enough on purpose to block his vision from the ammonite.

“redirect your infatuation problems towards someone who actually cares.”

it seems to work, when he hears them humming slightly and finally leaving, but not before throwing some more remarks his way.

“how stingy. i won’t interrupt the young lovers’ alone time then~”

he doesn’t much (not in the slightest) like their mocking tone of voice as they said it.

tsuribari sighs quietly.

it’s tranquil again for the time being, as much as it could be in the sea, just between him and his companion. not a lot has changed between the two of them, he thinks, with the exception stella has been noticeably more quiet than before in the blue sea, even towards him. he didn’t mind it however, those types of people were indeed rare. even if her solemn expressions and gestures meant little else to most others, he could read them like a book, her hatred and contempt for this world, much like--

much li--

--his train of thought is interrupted when he feels a weird jolt of pain go directly through where his beating heart is supposed to be. he flinches at the unexpected sting and shifted around a bit in discomfort.

as far he knows, he is supposed to be dead - to put bluntly - and not feel anything, as any corpse should not. maybe it were just some strange side effects that happened after a while of being deceased. it’s been somewhat of a long time, while he’s lost count of the years, he should still know. but he’s felt nothing but dullness all this time, so it would be strange now.

his mind momentarily wanders, and thinks about whether or not anyone else - particularly stella, the starfish still dozing off next to him - felt the same--

--and the same annoying heartache is there again, making him grimace. he places a hand on his chest. he could not even describe it, it felt like very regular pain, like a stomachache. unexpectedly harsh at first, lasting for mere moments then fading off.

“…what’s wrong?” stella asks tiredly after a long pause of silence. he must’ve been ‘acting’ so strange it even woke and drove her to speak. he was reading to her before, up until it seemed she wasn’t listening anymore and had dozed off.

- : - : - : - : - : -

when he had woken up again, there wasn’t anymore pain in his chest.

it was dark, echoing sounds of howling in the distance. he tried to adjust his vision to see what was supposed to be in front of him, though it didn’t seem to accomplish much. only an odd, unprecedented sight continued to stare back. whereas before the gentle radiance of sunlight had gleamed upon him, he couldn’t spot anything remotely resembling something that would be classed as natural light and the blue waves of the sea blending together.

red.

he saw the crimson-colored remains of what might have been the sea he was in previously. everything felt murkier. looking around, he almost began panicking again, when he spotted the familiar sight of his friend. his only friend.

in relief, he began pacing towards her - before stopping abruptly.

whereas before she seemed more timid and struck with grief, he saw something completely new mixed in this time around. lethargy. she seemed to not be bothered in the slightest by their situation.

he deciding to adjust and follow her lead.

even though stella hadn’t given him any particular description of the two potential heiresses of the throne, there was still something peculiar about the fish hovering in the distance, the familiar forlorn look of someone who had been discarded and thrown away - yet she was determined to not let that deter her, the air of excessive importance and bloodthirst for vengeance hung heavily around her.

her eye had been scratched out and the red-rimmed wilts under her eyes suggested she’d been crying heavily.

yet it was still the princess who had... saved him?

he frowned deeply at the fishhook still embedded inside his skull, a dull throbbing around his gaping wound still present. still.

was it really worth living the way he did though, he wondered briefly. would it have simply been better if he had died strung pathetically around that rope, his body being ripped apart by a shark with teeth sharper than a knife. would it have been better to have felt pain only for a few seconds, then passed away quietly, than to continue living in a way that felt like he was stuck between limbo and the afterlife. maybe then, the sea wouldn’t feel so cold, nor his skin so numb.

stella decided to quietly approach him herself, trying to reach and grasp his hand.

except he shook her off this time, instead choosing to look back with a dull, bored look at a new gaze standing in front of him.

he didn’t look whether or not that had hurt her at all. it didn’t matter at that point. he was the one who was hurting the most after all (aside from the princess maybe, from the looks of it).

a pair of ruby-red eyes belonging to a white shark, gazing at him with a knowing, sadistic smile.

(fear. reluctant acceptance. indifference. then antipathy.)

“welcome to the sea of death, little one.”

- : - : - : - : - : -

“…nothing. forget about it.” he says in a bored voice as usual - there’s a tinge of irritation in it than how he normally spoke. would it have been directed towards anybody else, they likely wouldn’t have noticed, but he wonders if stella did. choosing not to even look at her, as he gripped his shirt and tugged at it, hiding the torturous twinge at the center.

the boy tries to shut off his mind for now and focus on his book instead, as he turns away with his entire body, with his back now facing her, not bearing the burden of seeing her crestfallen expression. he doesn’t want to feel the same pain again that he did when he’d woken in the sea and died for the first time all those years ago.

why did he have to suffer, when the others deserved it so much more.

[prissyhalliwell]

This banner art is brought to you by the lovely @timelordthirteen!

Author’s Note: A big thank you to everyone for being patient while I wrestled with a stubborn plot in this story. I am happy to say that everything is FINALLY figured out and I will be posting the final four chapters over the next four weeks! But like, for real this time ;)    

P.S. This chapter is dedicated to @nropay​ for the adorable Fairy Gardener fanart that she did recently. Please go love on it: https://nropay-gallery.tumblr.com/post/180140343899/fan-art-for-the-fairy-gardener-by

Summary: The heroes face off against the fairy queens, but Fiona is still hiding a couple secrets up her sleeve.  Read on AO3 

CHAPTER TWENTY 

Rumplestiltskin was enjoying the look of confusion on Regina’s face. If he had known telling the truth was this much fun, he would have started doing it years ago.

“So let me get this straight,” Regina said, massaging her forehead to ward off a headache. “Not only is the Black Fairy your mother, but she got her twin sister to help her kidnap her own grandson and they’ve been holding him hostage for the last 300 years?” At Rumple’s nod, her eyebrows rose. “You’re telling me the munchkin that just left is older than I am?”

“Time moves much slower here,” Belle said. “I mentioned that at the cottage, remember?”

Regina shrugged, flopping back on the couch she had conjured upon her arrival. “My mind tends to wander whenever you start talking.”

Before Belle could rise to Regina’s bait, Rumplestiltskin cleared his throat, drawing both their attention. He couldn’t let them waste time on a pointless argument right now. While toying with Regina had been a nice distraction from his darker thoughts, it was time to get serious now that she was caught up on the day’s events. Bae had warned them that Blue would be on her way, which meant that Fiona and her sister could walk in any moment now. They had to be ready for them. “Alright,” he said, rubbing his hands together. “Everyone clear on the plan? We’re not going to get a second chance at this.”   “The plan sounded a lot better before I knew we were going up against your mother,” Regina grumbled. “Should I be worried?” After everything he had just told her, Rumplestiltskin was surprised she had to ask. The Evil Queen demanded revenge for the smallest slight; how could she even imagine he could forgive his mother for what she had done to him? To his son?

“Of course not,” he replied stiffly. “That woman may have given birth to me, but any connection we had ended then and there. If she gets in our way, I’ll take whatever actions necessary to defeat her.” He gave them both a grin he didn’t feel. “Besides, I’ve been an orphan most of my life. What’s a few more centuries? “Rumple,” Belle said softly, “you can’t just ignore - ” “That’s exactly what I’m going to do!” Rumplestiltskin growled. He’d tried so hard to contain the anger that had been bubbling inside him since Fiona had told him the truth. He couldn’t afford to be distracted by it, not now. Not when he was so close to having his son safe again. “I don’t owe that woman a thing!” “I’m not saying we don’t stop her,” Belle said gently. “But maybe there’s more to the story than we know. What if there’s another side to her?” “Yes, perhaps I should just split her in two and see if one of them will bake me cookies,” Rumpelstiltskin sneered.

No sooner had he said the words than an image of the Jekylls lying dead on their laboratory floor popped into his head. He shook the thought away, feeling slightly ill. He had tried not to think of them much in the past few days, letting the planning for the trip to the Dark Realm keep him busy. Apart from the realization that the men’s life forces must still have been linked despite their separation, Rumplestiltskin had gained nothing from the experiment except the knowledge that the splitting serum was useless to him.

Regardless, that was not something he needed to worry about right now, he reminded himself firmly. There would be plenty of time to kick himself over his failure once they were all back home. Belle frowned, watching his face worriedly. “I wasn’t thinking of anything as drastic as that. Besides, we already have powerful twin fairies to deal with. I don’t think we need any more of them running around.” “According to the hobbit, they don’t like each other too much,” Regina drawled. “If we’re lucky, maybe they’ll kill each other and save us the trouble.” “If they managed to get along for this long, they can probably survive a few more centuries.” Rumplestiltskin thought once again of the Jekylls, begrudgingly working together for a goal they shared until they could take it no longer. “If the prize is worth it, anyone can work together. For a while, at least.”    Regina snorted. “Meanwhile, they’ll be plotting the entire time how to kill one another. I know if I had a sister as powerful as I was, I wouldn’t wait for her to come after me. I’d grab both halves of that wand and strike first.” “That’s the part that doesn’t make sense,” Belle said, biting her lip in concentration. “Neither of them seemed that concerned about keeping their half of the wand from the other. Fiona must not be guarding hers if Bae could find it so easily, and Blue had her half well-hidden from the rest of us, but Fiona could have easily walked through the portal and grabbed it at any moment.” She frowned. “We need more information.”

That was an understatement, Rumplestiltskin thought wearily. There was so much they didn’t understand, especially when it came to why Blue and Fiona needed so much fairy dust.

When going up against rivals, he was always careful to make sure he knew everything about them: their desires, their weaknesses, and even their past. There was a lot to be learned from the decisions someone had made in their life, and it usually revealed a lot about what they might do in the future. But after all the lies were cleared away, the sisters’ past was essentially a blank slate. There wasn’t much they could learn from an absence of facts -

Rumplestiltskin's head shot up as his brain registered his thought. He turned quickly to Belle. “What do you know about the Golden Fairy?” he asked.

Belle’s mouth quirked into a smile. “I seem to remember asking you the same question not too long ago...”

He shook his head. “No, I know the legend of how she supposedly died, but what else? If she was the very first fairy in existence, the most powerful fairy who ever lived, why don’t we know more about her?”

She sucked in a breath. “Do you think they’re hiding something? Or covering up her death somehow?”

“Why not? They’re covering up her life,” he groused, rubbing his chin in thought. “It makes more sense than anything else at this point. Why else would we know so little about such a powerful being?”

He could see the wheels turning in Belle’s mind. “But clearly she did die or she wouldn’t have let her daughters get away with all of this.”

Rumplestiltskin shrugged. “We don’t know anything about her. Perhaps it was her idea and they’re just following in her footsteps. The only thing we know with any certainty is that they must be stopped.”

Belle’s eyes grew large. “What if she’s not dead? Maybe they have her locked up somewhere.” Her face lit up. “Perhaps she could help us! She is your grandmother after all - ”

“My...what?” Rumplestiltskin stopped abruptly. He had followed the family connection as far as Blue, but he had somehow failed to follow it another generation back. The realization that the Golden Fairy was his grandmother hit closer to home than he liked. Not only was he part of the very race he had always despised, but he was essentially descended from fairy royalty, or the closest thing the fairies had to it.

This would take some serious rethinking of his identity at some point.

“I don’t need any more relatives today, thank you very much,” he said roughly, suddenly wishing they would drop the matter.

Regina snickered. “But Auntie Blue has such a nice ring to it!”

He pointed a finger at her. “I’m warning you.”

“What are you going to do? Flap your fairy wings at me?” Regina cackled. “Can overgrown lizards even have wings? You’d just - ”

Her taunt was cut off as Rumplestiltskin waved his hand. A second later, the space where Regina had been sitting was occupied by a furry black and white creature.

“Rumple!” Belle yelped. “Is - is that a bear?”  

He leaned back against the bars, feeling pleased with himself. He didn’t know it until much later, but he had just invented the panda.

Back in the Enchanted Forest, Reul had come to a realization of her own. Today was just not going to be her day.

After putting up with the Evil Queen’s antics for a good part of the morning, she’d been whisked away by one of her lieutenants, who had led her to the two unconscious guards in the tunnels. She had wasted no time after that in heading straight for the library. This entire situation stank too much of her counterpart’s sparkly spawn and Reul was eager to get him taken care of once and for all.

She strode through the portal, finding Fiona sitting calmly at her desk, clearly waiting for her to arrive. It was hardly surprising; Fiona was always waiting for her when she came through. Whether it was a telepathic connection they were unconscious of or a side effect from what they had gone through, Reul had never found out. As it was, she had more important things to worry about right now.

Before she could speak, however, Fiona said nonchalantly, “I had some visitors today.”

“Rumplestiltskin?”

She nodded. “Along with your renegade fairy and a portal jumper.”

Reul scowled. “Jefferson. So that’s how they got in.”

Fiona wrinkled her nose. “They smelt slightly of pickled fish.” She glanced sideways at Reul. “That wouldn’t have anything to do with your horrid habit, would it?”

Reul simply sniffed.

With a roll of her eyes, Fiona rose from her seat and beckoned for Reul to follow her. They set off down the tunnel side by side, neither willing to expose their back to the other.  

“Does the boy know?” Reul asked.

“He found them first, actually.” Seeing the look on her face, Fiona continued. “They’re in my prison, so he’s of no help to them.”

Reul frowned. “You didn’t lock him up somewhere?”

Fiona gestured to the stone walls surrounding them. “More so than he already is? This entire realm is a prison.” The corner of her mouth twitched. “I usually leave being redundant to you.”

Reul ignored the slight. Unlike Fiona, she knew when to shut up and think. Rumplestiltskin and his friends had found their operation. The time for petty jokes was over.

They walked around the corner and into the chamber that held the prison. As they drew closer to the bars, Fiona let out a gasp. It took Reul only a moment longer to see why.

In the prison were two figures she had expected, and one she had not.

“I thought you said Jefferson was with them,” she said, frowning.

“I did.”

“You didn’t mention Regina either.”

“I’m well aware of that,” Fiona said, gritting her teeth. “Clearly, they’ve been busy.”

Rumplestiltskin leaned back against the bars, arms folded behind his head and looking as relaxed as if he were in the middle of a picnic. He gazed at the two of them lazily. “Glad you could join us, Blue. It’s a family reunion at last.”

She ignored him. “Where’s the Hatter?”

Regina smiled. “Enjoying far better company than any of us at the moment.” She wrinkled her nose. “Even I’d prefer an invisible cat to a bunch of pretentious fleas.”

“Why you vile little - ”

Fiona cut her off. “You can insult us all you want, highness. It won’t change the fact that you’re locked up in that cell.”

Regina’s smile widened. “Who said we’re locked up?”

Reul felt a shiver run up her spine. She looked from Fiona and back to the other three. “You’re bluffing. No magic can escape those bars.”

“Care to make a wager on that?” Rumplestiltskin grinned toothily from where he stood. “Our freedom against your - oh wait a minute.” He made a show of patting down his pockets before pulling out the now reassembled Golden Fairy’s wand and pointing it straight at them. “My wand.”

Before Reul could react, light burst forth from the wand. The bars of the prison hurtled forward, slamming into her and Fiona and knocking them to the ground.

Reul groaned, her head spinning as the bars pinned her in place. “This is all your fault,” she wheezed.

Fiona lie beside her, breathing heavily. “Shut up and push.”

“I remember telling you that 350 years ago and look what trouble that got us into!”

Fiona ignored her taunt and Reul focused her magic on pushing the bars away from them. Beside her, she could feel her other half doing the same. With their combined power, the bars slid off them easily. They stood up, ready to face their attackers.

Rumplestiltskin and Regina both stood with fireballs hovering in their open hands. Belle stood behind Rumplestiltskin, his body shielding her from harm.

The solution was obvious. If Reul could get to Belle, she would be able to control the Dark One. Or better yet, she could use the sorcerer’s son to hold him back.

“Where’s Baelfire?” she hissed to Fiona.

“Oh, he’s rounding up the children and preparing them for an escape.”

Reul turned her eyes from the others to stare at Fiona. “What?!”

Fiona smirked. “Didn’t I always tell you I was the smarter half?” An enchanted cuff materialized in her hand and she slapped it on Reul’s wrist, blocking her magic. With a wink, Fiona disappeared, leaving Reul alone to face their enemies.

“Oh, fiddlesticks!”

Fiona appeared back in her office a moment later. She seated herself comfortably in the chair behind her desk before waving her hand, summoning her grandson.

Bae looked started as he appeared in front of her desk, his eyes growing even wider as he saw her. “Wh-what’s going on?” he stammered.

“I think it’s time we had a chat.” She gestured to the chair behind him. “Do sit down.”

He regarded the chair as if it had fangs. “I’d rather not.”

Fiona nodded before sending the chair flying toward Bae, knocking his legs out from underneath him. He fell back into the chair with a huff.

“See? Isn’t that better?” She didn’t wait for him to respond. “I think it’s time we put all of our cards on the table. I know you gave your father my half of the wand so he could escape.”

Bae’s mouth opened and closed rapidly, reminding Fiona of a fish gasping for air on the dry sand.

“But how - ”

She chuckled. “My dear boy, you couldn’t have been so foolish as to think I didn’t know you were always in here, did you?” She pointed to the corner bookshelf he had always hidden behind. “Do you think I would have allowed you in my study if I didn’t want you here?”

Bae’s eyes grew wide. “You knew?”

She nodded, a smirk stretching across her dark red lips. “The only reason Ruel didn’t detect your presence was because my magic was hiding you from her.”

Her grandson looked at her in astonishment. He was clearly struggling with this new information, so she gave him a few moments to think it over.

“I don’t understand,” he finally said. “Why would you want me here?”

Fiona chose her words carefully. Bae was an intelligent child, but he was also an emotional one. Despite everything that had happened between him and her son, she could see that Bae still loved his father. She’d have to explain herself carefully or risk alienating him and jeopardizing her future plans.

“Oh, I have my reasons. Getting one over Ruel was always great fun, and I wanted you to see her for who she truly is. I knew you’d never believe a word I said otherwise.” She gave him a fond look. “I know I can be harsh at times, but I’ve never lied about how I feel about you or who you were to me.” Her eyes gleamed. “I don’t believe in being a hypocrite.”

“If you care about me, then you can’t let her hurt my papa.” Bae looked at her pleadingly. “He’s your son! You can’t let her kill him.”

Fiona giggled. “Whatever made you think I was going to let her do that?” Her laughter stopped as she sensed a presence outside her door. Her magic reached out, immediately recognizing the intruder.

She waved the door open. “No use lurking outside, Rumple. My magic sensed you the moment you came near.”

Her son walked through the door warily, eyes falling on Bae before flicking back up to meet hers. “Ah mother, I was wondering where you’d gotten to.”

Though the endearment had been said snidely, Fiona beamed at him. “Is Reul dead?”

Rumplestiltskin regarded her curiously, his brilliant mind clearly trying to chip away at her. But he would need more than his intellect to figure her secrets out. Her son was clever - hardly a surprise considering she had given birth to him - but there were ancient magics that even he in all his years as the Dark One hadn’t encountered.

“No,” he said finally. “But she’s not a threat anymore. I was more worried about where you’d scampered away to.”    

She gestured towards Bae. “As you can see, I’m just having a little chat with my grandson.”

Bae regarded his father silently from his chair. Fiona could sense his longing to run to him, but it was more than the threat of her magic that held him in his seat.

“Since we’re all here, we might as well have a family chat.” She pointed towards another chair. “Take a seat, Rumple.”

Belle didn’t really like being left alone with Regina to guard Blue. But she had sensed Rumple’s need to confront his mother on his own and hadn’t wanted to interfere. Besides, she didn’t trust Regina to watch Blue by herself, even if the latter was unconscious at the moment. Who knew what sort of twisted deal they would come up with if left on their own?

For the most part, Regina was lounging on her couch and doing a great job of ignoring her, which suited Belle just fine. She didn’t like the woman nor did she understand the weird antagonistic friendship the queen had with Rumple. Eventually she’d have to ask him about that, along with a hundred other questions.

Blue began to stir and Belle pushed her thoughts aside. There’d be time enough for them after they got themselves out of this mess.

It took Blue a moment to come around. When she did, she zeroed in on Belle’s face, her own contorting into a scowl. “I always knew you would prove to be a disappointment, Bluebelle.”

Once, her former mentor’s words would have hurt her. Now, they were only laughable.

“Me?” Belle laughed mirthlessly. “What in the world could I ever do that would come close to this?” She spread her arms to encompass the cave. “You’ve stolen children from their families, enslaved them for your own gain, and lied to every fairy who has ever served you.” All the anger and betrayal that Belle had felt since she’d learned the truth bubbled to the surface. “I can only be grateful that I’m a disappointment to someone like you!”

Beside her, she heard Regina let out a low whistle. “The little fairy’s got teeth.”

“I have two words for you, Regina,” Belle growled. “ Poison. Ivy.”

Regina sniffed and looked away, but she could see that the queen had paled slightly at her words. Belle considered it a win.

It was only when Blue began to chuckle that Belle turned her attention back to their prisoner, who wore a smug expression on her face.

“This is too precious. You claim to have the moral high ground while working with the Evil Queen and the Dark One.” Blue smiled at her patronizingly. “You really are in over your head, aren’t you?”

Belle stared her down, realizing any fear she had once felt had vanished. Blue couldn’t hurt her anymore. Or the children she’d forced to work in the mines. “It’s over, Blue. No one is on your side anymore. I’m going to tell everyone what sort of person you really are.”

“You think anyone will listen to you? The Dark One’s whore?”

“Hey!” Regina, eyes flashing, marched over to Blue and poked her hard in the shoulder. “You might want to keep better track of your tongue, unless you want me to remove it for you.”

Belle opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. Being defended by Regina was hardly the strangest thing that had happened that day, but she still hadn’t been expecting it.

Regina caught her staring wordlessly at her and shrugged. “Don’t read too much into it. I still think you’re an annoying little flea.” Without another word, the queen turned and walked back to her couch before flopping down once again.

Blue for her part looked just as surprised as Belle felt. The other fairy looked as if she was going to speak, but Belle beat her to it.

“She’s not bluffing,” Belle said matter-of-factly.

A glare was Blue’s only response. Clearly, she had taken the warning to heart. A tiny part of Belle was almost sorry. A darker part of her, the side she rarely acknowledged, would have liked to see Regina put Blue in her place again.

The three lapsed into silence, giving Belle time to think. Sitting there between Blue and Regina, it was clear to her just how far she’d come since running away from the glen.

It was odd how things had turned out, but she wouldn’t have had it any other way. She’d tried her whole life to fit in with her own people, only to find acceptance from the very enemy she had been taught to hate.

The motley crew of characters she’d encountered in the last few months had become her family without her even realizing it. Jefferson with his strange quirks and eccentricities had quickly wormed his into her heart. Rumple somehow inspired an equal level of love and exasperation from her, which she was still trying to figure out. And while she knew she’d never be able to call Regina a kindred spirit, the queen was still a part of this new family Belle had found since she’d left her old life behind.

Flawed they may be, but she had discovered who she was with them. Just like them, she wasn’t a perfect hero who never made mistakes.

She was simply Belle, and for once, that was enough.  

Author’s Note: Thanks to everyone who suggested animals for Regina to turn into, but panda was the winner! Here’s a video of Lana Parrilla talking about the Evil Panda https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-LpH7xjyudU

[mintypothos]

Quiet - A Hamburr prompt

My entry for the Hamilton Summer fic exchange, written for @hambrr who asked for A) Hurt/comfort, and B)trans burr. Smut was optional which is good because I don’t write smut. 

“Mister Burr sir!” Hamilton threw a hand up in greeting. “What are you doing tonight?” His smile was wide, eyes practically sparking with mischief. Hamilton was trying to be friendly. All Aaron could see was the grin of a shark.

“I’m going home.” Aaron said, refusing to rise to Hamilton’s bait- in the form of a riased eyebrow. Much had been said of Aaron’s apparent loner tendencies, none of it respectful.

Predictably, Hamilton’s smile turned to a superior smirk. Propping one hand against his hip, Hamilton gestured widely with the other. “You should chill with me! Have some fun for once!”

Aaron rolled his eyes. “I have plenty of fun at home. With my privacy. Thank you for the offer, though.”

It was a textbook response, playing a game of manners even while visibly making it clear he did not appreciate the mockery. Hamilton huffed and muttered out a fine, as he always did, and turned back. It had happened a good half dozen times before.

Only this time, Hamilton’s arm swung wide, accidentally smacking his hand against Aaron’s. Instantly, Aaron’s head flared, something almost painful but not quite.

--God, again-why do I keep tryi-it’s not like he hates me, rig-not asking for a date-but wouldn’t that be nice--

Then, blissful silence again. Aaron’s gaze shot down- Hamilton’s hand was drawn back, something almost sheepish on his face. “My bad,” He shrugged, turning sharply and walking away as if nothing had happened.

Aaron let out a long breath, one he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding. The thoughts had been fast and flooding. They hadn’t been his.

Not thinking, Aaron moved, stepping quickly around the corner out of the backroom and almost bowling over Peggy, just starting their shift. The storefront partition lay ajar, door to the outside world just swinging closed. Hamilton had already left the coffeeshop, ever eager to get on with the next part of his life.

People only ever heard thoughts projected from their soulmate. Sometimes, multiple soulmates- but they were still soulmates. And those had definitely been Hamilton’s thoughts. Aaron paused for a moment, considering the revelation. Then, he packed his bag, walked to the bus stop, and went home, resolving not to think about it.

After all, he’d been unable to speak with his soulmate ever since falling out of that tree when he was nine. They couldn’t possibly want Aaron now, after mourning his apparent death and coming to terms with it- and being a happy, active, sociable person like Hamilton. No, Aaron would do what he was best at.

Aaron would keep his mouth shut.

--

A week came and went, and Aaron was fine. His eyes kept flicking to Hamilton, no matter what Aaron tried. Thankfully, Hamilton didn’t notice, always busy with customers here, and throwing extra cookies in the oven there. It was fine, it was manageable. Aaron was doing Hamilton a favour, really. Freedom to choose your own partner, and all that.

Another week went by. His gaze still kept finding its way to his energetic coworker. Hamilton had always been interesting to look at, even before he knew-suspected. Only now, Hamilton was staring back. He’d noticed, somehow, though Aaron was careful to be discreet. Aaron couldn’t help it, picturing what it would be like if Hamilton really was his soulmate-of course he was, what else could it be, but Aaron would damn well hide behind the astronomically low probability and self delusions if he wanted to.

It would be terrible, Aaron told himself. It wouldn’t be nice, it wouldn’t feel like he could actually share himself with somebody again.

“Hey, Burr!” Hamilton raised his chin, a familiar challenge, but he wasn’t quite smiling this time. His lips quirked up, but he looked more confused than confident. “Do you want to hang? I have the new Mario.” Hamilton even spoke more quietly, less explosive and more tentative.

Despite that, a refusal was on the tip of Aaron’s tongue. Then, he remembered his staring, his repetitive, circular thoughts. Maybe he could get it out of his system. “You know what, fine, sure.”

Hamilton snorted. “That sounds enthusiastic. You know you don’t have to, I’m not actually trying to pressure you.”

“Oh, no,” Guilt spiked in Aaron’s chest. “I didn’t mean it that way. I just-”, Aaron flailed for an excuse, “I just like Mario.”

Hamilton stared. Heat flooded Aaron’s face. “Really,” Hamilton said slowly. “Mario was what it took?” He let out a sharp huff, finally grinning- warm and amused. “Well, I’m not complaining. Let’s go!”

--

Hamilton’s apartment was small and cramped, thought Aaron suspected as much, given he worked 40 hours a week on minimum wage. He could probably only barely afford it, too- not that Aaron could relate; for all they worked the same job, Aaron’s inheritance guaranteed a comfortable house without mortgage, if on the practical, small side.

“-Aaron? You good?” Hamilton waved a hand in front of Aaron’s nose. Aaron flinched back, returning to the present. He couldn’t afford to be absent minded.

“Fine, fine! Sorry.” Aaron scratched his neck nervously. Sweat was already gathering on his forehead. He stretched, as subtly as he could.

“I was asking what your favourite Mario was, since you like them so much.”

Aaron froze again, caught in his lie. His binder itched, discomfort that was normally nearly unnoticeable but suddenly unbearable in his nervousness. “Ah, Sunshine,” Aaron blurted. “I liked the overworld.”

Hamilton paused, then grinned. Aaron had somehow passed. “I love Mario Sunshine! Delfina plaza is so colourful, and the way you can just move around is so nice. Like, the jet nozzle of couse, but also that thing where you spray the ground in front of you, then jump on your belly and just cruise...” Hamilton trailed off. “That watermelon level is bullshit, though.”

Aaron only had faint memories of the game. But somehow, he did remember that part. “Yeah, that was the worst.”

“Hah! A negative opinion. I knew I’d get one out of you yet.” Hamilton pumped his fist in victory. It was cute, Aaron pretended not to think. “Now come on, there’s a coop level with our name on it.”

Hamilton flopped on the couch- the only seat in the cramped living area- unless Aaron wanted to sit in the kitchen area of the room. He wasn’t that rude though, and so Aaron sat down, careful to make sure their skin did not touch.

He still didn’t quite know what had happened, but he was certain it was caused by Hamilton’s hand touching Aaron’s own. They’d never so much as shaken hands before, it had to be that. Cautiously, Aaron picked up the controller. If he could just get through this, get the Hamilton out of his system, then he could go back to his life. It was a good plan.

Hamilton started the game up immediately, cheerful music filling the room. Aaron was only passively interested in video games, but it was fun. Hamilton laughed with the successes, groaned at the losses, and made an inordinate amount of conversation inbetween.

It should have been annoying, but the commentary, the asides that were only tangentially related to the game, were actually fun. Aaron found himself responding back, never a lot, and never too loudly, but it was more than he’d spoken in one sitting in a long time.

“Ahh, for someone who likes Mario so much, you’re really bad at this!” Hamilton chuckled as Aaron let Mario fall down another gap. It was infectuous- Aaron couldn’t help but laugh too.

“You can enjoy things you aren’t the best in, you know.” Aaron joked, smirking at Hamilton’s immediate nose wrinkle.

“I feel you,” Hamilton agreed, “But I’m way too competitve for that. I guess that makes us a decent team, though.”

Aaron froze. “Uh, I didn’t mean that in a weird way,” Hamilton sputtered. “Sorry, sometimes I just say things awkwardly. I just meant we work out well like this, uh..”

They did work well together. In video games and in work- it was why they both covered the same shift, it may just be a coffee store but no one else worked so efficiently as a pair. Aaron was being an idiot. Soulmates didn’t mean they had to be together or anything, but it did mean something. He wouldn’t just ‘get over it’.

On the other hand, Hamilton was sure to hate him. It would be much safer to just wait for another time. If another time ever came.

“Hey, Hamilton?” Burr said, putting his controller down on the coffee table.

“You know you can call me Alex, but yea?”

Aaron reached over and grabbed Hamilton’s hand. “Um, wha-” Hamilton startled, and then stopped as if he was hearing something.

-Can you hear this?- Aaron sent out, tentatively.

-um- Aaron heard back. -ohmygodohmygod-is burr my soulmate-what the fuck i thought mysoulmate was dead- you fucking asshole what the fuck what the fuck-

Aaron grabbed his hand back. “I didn’t realize until recently”, he said, instead of explaining.

“Why didn’t you ever talk back? Why are you ignoring me no-” Hamilton cut himself off. “You need to touch hands, don’t you?”

Aaron nodded silently. Hamilton nodded, bouncing his leg in thought. “Of course! I touched your hand a couple weeks ago, and you’ve been werid since. Why do you need touch, though? I know I remembered talking to you when we were younger.”

That, Aaron didn’t have an explanation for. “I fell out of a tree when I was nine, got a bad concussion. We all thought it was a rare side effect, that I’d never be able to telecommunicate again.”

“Oh.” Hamilton said. Then, he swayed. “Ohhhh.” he fell against the couch. “Oh my god, you’re my soulmate.”

“Sorry,” Aaron said, not sure what else he should say. “If it makes you feel better, I felt very bad about likely making you think I was dead.”

Hamilton didn’t speak for a long moment, resting against the couch, leg shifting up and down furiously. “I never thought you were dead,” He said, finally. “I always hoped. Everyone else thought I was being stupid, though.”

“Sorry,” Aaron said again.

Hamilton’s eyes snapped open. “No! Don’t apologize!” He swung upright again, arms flailing. “You know what this means, right?!”

“Uh,” For the first time in a very long while, words failed Aaron.

“It means this!” With one swift motion, Hamilton’s hands darted forward, clasping Aaron’s.

-We can talk like this now! Like I’ve missed for so long! I have to work on not projecting everything like I’ve always done though-

-I suppose so- Aaron replied hesitantly, not sure what to do. This wasn’t the reaction he was expecting.

Hamilton smiled brightly, as if Aaron’s single telecommunicated sentence meant the world to him. -We should practice more!- He projected. -Maybe go out sometime, since I finally found you and all-unless you don’t- I mean- if you want to you don’t have to-dammit im word vomiting- forget i said-thought-anything oh my god-

-yes- Aaron cut off the torrent of thought. -I’d like that. Really.-

Hamilton’s smile was wide. The grin of a soulmate. Aaron smiled back.

[thehausbylaws]

I have a confession to make: I’ve been slacking on the omgcp train because… I got a Nintendo Switch… and the new Zelda is just too good

It did get me thinking about how the Haus (really the frogs) would react if someone brought home a Nintendo Switch though. Probably Bitty (who’s in his senior year at this point)? As a gift from Jack, who bought it deciding he wanted to give it a try after a life of non-video gaming? The two probably had some fun playing Zelda and 1, 2 Switch in Providence but decided it was too much of a time-suck for the two of them (senior year, Bitty’s Samwell captaincy, NHL captaincy), so Bitty drags it along with him back to Samwell.

Of course, Chowder’s been keeping track of Nintendo stuff, and his family/friends back home have been posting on social media about it, taunting him, when he knows they’re sold out within a twenty-mile radius of campus, so the boy is DYING to play it. When he sees the Switch in front of the television downstairs, he lets out a squeal an opera singer would applaud at. Nursey and Dex are very confused.

Nursey and Dex have probably all played at least a few staple video game franchises in their childhood, but Nursey abandoned them kind of quickly in his attempts to “chill”, and Dex couldn’t really afford consoles as a kid, so he’s only really played them at someone else’s house or something. Chowder plays a bit of Zelda with them as witnesses, and they pass it off as “cool” and go on with their day. (Very reminiscent of a certain confession about someone dating a certain professional hockey player tbh)

Except they’re secretly fascinated by it. For different reasons. They sneak downstairs and swipe it to play for a few hours when they know everyone else is in class. Sure, they both know fuck-all about the plot, but they get the basic premise – walk around, explore, complete quests, kill monsters, stop Ganon – and that’s more than enough for them.

Dex loves it like he loves any good puzzle. An encampment of monsters hoarding a treasure chest to themselves? Obviously, it’s time to start a fire and ride the updraft it produces to get the drop on them. Enemy that’s way too big to take out one on one in a thunderstorm? Bait it with food and turn that sucker into a lightning rod by chucking something metal. Dex is all about this. (He does, however, wish you could repair equipment instead of passively watching it slowly get worn down.)

Nursey’s more into the exploration and the sights. He’s a hazard to himself, really. Chowder leaves off after the introductory tutorials and dungeons, and Nursey decides it’s a good idea to make a beeline for the castle swirling with black and purple clouds and a ravenous demon circling it. He dies. A lot. Until something pretty and glowing red calls his attention to the east, at which he point he turns his focus on it. And dies. Again. A lot. Even death in this game - in the form of crisp, deep red laser beams and soft blue, plush as hell explosions - is a thing to behold. There’s just too many beautiful sights and only four measly hearts to spare, but Nursey’s a trooper. Or a troubadour. Whatever. He perseveres.

And the game is great! What’s not great is the fact that, at least twice a week, the two of them have a similar gap between classes, and they are itching to play. They’ve only played individually though, and they’re probably not looking to share, until one day, Dex cracks and asks, “If I get the game for the first hour, you get it for the next, and we just trade off, okay?” Nursey’s indignant and puts on a front to make things difficult, even though it’s a pretty reasonable offer, but ultimately gives in. Dex returns with the Switch in his hands like a kid stealing a cookie from a cookie jar.

But playing/watching each other play is an exercise in restraint.

Dex wants to work through whatever obstacles and monsters are in his way and complete the main story, but Nursey keeps pointing out randomly glowing things off in the distance no less than twice a minute, and it drives Dex crazy. He blows himself up on his own explosives no less than twice the first time they do this. It’s hard to play while swatting Nursey’s grabby hands away from the screen. (He also gets his hands on some pretty swanky treasure and weaponry thanks to Nursey’s observational skills, but he doesn’t say anything about that.)

Nursey just wants to go climb those icy peaks with the three oddly conspicuous conifers all in a row at the top, or go wander deep into that forest with the monstrously large skeleton in the center as dusk falls, but Dex is just screaming at him and playing backseat Zelda player the whole time. “You can’t go up there. You don’t even have a jacket for the cold! You’re gonna die!” or “Exactly what part of traipsing over the corpse of a dead monster, in a forest where there’s nothing else but undead monsters, is a good idea, Nurse?” Nursey starts to listen after the (reanimated!) skeleton sits on him to death a few times. Dex gives him the idea to maybe wait until the sun comes up before approaching the thing again, and if Nursey waits until Dex isn’t in the room before he tries it, well, that’s just a coincidence. (A coincidence with some kick ass swords as a prize, but hey.)

The third week they do this, Nursey grabs the Switch first and tries to suggest something new. “Yo, instead of us just messing with each other and pissing each other off, maybe we can just, you know…” He waves a hand in between them, half-sure Dex is going to do that squinty thing with his eyes to tell Nursey he’s making no sense and say no.

“Yeah, I actually did some research on that skeleton that dropped its ass on you last time. It turns out it-”

“Wait, bro, are you saying yes to this?” A pause. “And did you seriously just call googling Zelda tips and tricks ‘research’?”

Dex goes red in the face, and Nursey’s almost sure he’s about to take back his tentative agreement until Dex, the dick that he is, makes a solid case for why they should be working together. “Look, the game rewards exploration, and you’ve clearly got some affinity for the type of shiny things game designers set up as bait, but none of the survival skills. We’ve got what the other lacks.” Nursey’s mouth splits into a shit-eating grin. “Just work with me, Nurse.”

Nursey turns his head up in mock reconsideration for a second before remembering he’s one who asked in the first place; he knows it’s fruitless to keep it up any longer. So, he just does what comes naturally and opens his mouth again. “Aw, Dexy, that’s probably the sweetest thing you’ve said to me this year.”

And so begin their new Zelda escapades, whereby Dex picks an objective related to the main quest, and Nursey points out things that might be worth checking out on the way to their destination. They still trade off every hour, but there’s a lot less dying, and a lot more sweet, sweet treasure.

Chowder gets back from class early one day, and considers giving himself some Switch time before he notices it’s not in the dock. He decides he’ll live and is about to turn down the hall to his room when he hears some very distinctive piano notes echoing weakly from the attic.

‘Those fakers,’ he thinks to himself. He creeps up the stairs and swings open the door at the top, a chirp on his lips when he sees them. The chirp dies on the spot.

They’re both conked out, and Dex is lying next to Nursey on the bottom bunk, his head most definitely resting on his shoulder. Nursey’s is resting on top of his, the Switch still in his hand by the floor of his bed.

Chowder just giggles and snaps a picture of them before turning back around and leaving.

(Blackmail, he decides, is an even better way to get Switch time.)

[deathcookiesoup]

History Made Accessible by Karel Češpiva (Death Cookie Soup, 2017)

I met her only briefly before recording. She spoke only French, period French at that, and I remember thinking solemnly of the bother this was going to cause me. Audiences don’t like guests who speak in dead languages, and as every language besides American English is now classified ‘dead,’ this presents significant problems in the presentation aspect of our programmes. We have to troll the Classics departments of universities for an interpreter and then dub all of our talent’s lines, not to mention edit out all of the awkward pauses generated by the interpretation.

Anyway, I met Joan in the green room as Melinda was attempting to powder her face and wash out some of the mud that was caked into her hair. It was a quick meeting, how-do-you-do and that; I attempted some small talk about her journey but she didn’t seem to be in the mood. So I left her in the capable hands of our floor manager and made my way upstairs where the graphics guys were working on a banner for the piece.

‘Three Saints Told Me To Save France And Now He Wants To Kill Me For It’.

I mulled over the wording. I liked the beginning; the ‘Three Saints Told Me’. It was good; it established credibility. I didn’t want to get into a debate about whether-or-not there were saints and whether-or-not they appeared to her. That was just fluff, as far as I was concerned. It was best to take the saints thing for granted and move on to the conflict. That’s what they’d teach you in Television School, if there was one. Cut off everything auxiliary and get to the beans. Rather, cut the beans as well, and get to the flatulence. Everyone loves flatulence. People have built entire careers on farting. Forget the beans, forget eating them, just assume someone has eaten them and cut to the farting. This was a fast-paced show.

‘One thing,’ I said to Jerry, the head graphics guy. ‘I think “burn” is better than “kill”. More emotive.’

‘’No problem, boss,’ and he changed it.

I had further instruction. ‘Okay, Jerry, so I’m gonna be gunning for some good take-away lines here, from both parties, and I want you to be cued up to replace the banners with particularly prescient quotes from their dialogue. So if the Pommy bastard says “she’s a witch”, which he will, I want that quote underneath her face before she’s called him a snivelling limey dickhead, and then when she does, I want that quote under his face. You got me?’

‘Loud and clear, sir!’

‘Okay floor’s just buzzed me we’re ready to go; I want everyone primed! Remember, this isn’t Frost/Nixon; we did that in Show 22! This is important! Let’s go, people!’

I ran out onto the show floor, beaming the ridiculously large showbiz smile that only comes with extensive facial surgery. It was a feisty audience today; there was a lot of whooping and hollering, and an inflatable beach ball was being bounced around the auditorium, much to the chagrin of my beefy ‘co-host’, Security Syd.

My floor manager, Roxanne, counted down the seconds to recording. When she got to one I struggled to broaden my already-painful smile even further.

‘Good morning and welcome to the Julius Carlysle Show! Have we got a show for you this morning; she’s a feisty freedom fighter we plucked from Northern France in 1431, who was bestowed as a young girl a mission from his Holiness Saint Michael to defeat the Lancastrian Army and escort the Dauphin to his coronation. Now she faces burning at the stake for heresy! At only 19 years of age, let’s get Joan of Arc on the Julius Carlysle Show!’

Big signs above the audience’s eyelines flashed the word ‘applaud’ and they complied without hesitation. We specifically test our prospective audience for their willingness to obey instruction. The ones who get through the screening process have only a few IQ points on the average Dorset Horn sheep.

Cameras dollied backstage to capture Joan’s strut onto the stage. Unfortunately, it wasn’t much of a strut. It was more a diminutive shuffle, and upon her emergence onto the stage, to thundering applause, she looked vaguely unamused. She stood, mouth slightly agape, staring at the braying public. I directed her to one of the two chairs and she sat, legs pressed together, with the posture of a church pew. I crouched in front of her. I never sat on the programme; my commitment to fast-paced television prevented me this pleasure. I would squat, crouch, pace, leer, and, occasionally, pirouette. I had to be ready at all times to leap across the stage with the energy of a shaken beer, exploding with whatever emotion I deemed appropriate. I’ll be honest, it was usually anger. This presentational style kept my guests disconcerted and my audience invigorated.

But in this moment I would have to feign sympathy, only to throw it back in Joan’s face when she inevitably slipped up. It would put her on a teetering defensive roller coaster, poised to catastrophically plummet from her holier-than-thou attitude. So I crouched in front of her.

‘Joan, now, as I understand it, you were given a very special mission, at quite a young age, weren’t you?’

She nodded.

‘Tell us about it.’

She took a deep breath and began tentatively. ‘Well, I was twelve when Saint Michael came to Father’s front garden to tell me about the English invasion -’

I interrupted her. ‘Was it just Saint Michael or were there other saints as well?’

‘Saint Catherine and Saint Margaret came as well. They were so beautiful…’

‘And so they told you to rid the country of the English?���

‘Yes. They told me I had to escort the Dauphin to Paris for the coronation, and that this would make France whole again.’

I spun around theatrically and addressed the audience with a peevish grin. ‘Well, one person who wouldn’t want that would be our next guest, John Talbot, the First Earl of Shrewsbury, Lancastrian Commander of the English Forces. Let’s get John Talbot on the Julius Carlysle Show!’

The studio erupted into cheers once again. I was surprised by the audience’s fervour; several of them had begun to chant my name completely unprompted. The only time they’d usually do that was when I was about to verbally batter some of the noted hate figures we’d brought on the show, such as Mata Hari and Louis Riel.

Shrewsbury walked out onto the stage, his presence notably more polished than Joan’s had been. He grinned, waved at the audience, and pompously and laboriously wrung my hand.

‘Julius, hello, pleasure to be on, me old mucker.’

He flashed the audience another cheeky grin and sat down, separated from Joan only by the imposing presence of Security Syd.

I retreated to the steps in front of the audience pulpit and sat, leaning against the stage to show my comfortability with the latest arrival.

‘So, Shrewsbury, where do you get off burning someone to death for fulfilling a divine mission?’

‘Well, let’s be clear here, there is no divine mission besides ours. No self-respecting God want the French to have self-determination. He created us English for that very reason. No, this young lady has never met a saint in her life. She’s a liar, a tax cheat, and, in all probability, a witch.’

There we go. We had it. I turned with venom back to Joan. ‘You’re a witch, are you? How very typical, you come on here, eliciting sympathy, claiming benefits, and all the while you’ve been witching around France slandering saints. Your type disgusts me!’

Joan looked horrified. ‘No! I’m no witch! I just want to serve God and my country! I’ve done nothing else since I was a little girl!’

She didn’t call him a dickhead. She must not know we’re allowed to swear.

Shrewsbury tossed his head back and laughed. ‘No, no, no, you mustn’t listen to this second-rate prophet who can’t even read and write! And,’ he looked around mischievously, ‘if I may say so in such polite company, regularly cross-dresses.’

This was a game-changer. A collective gasp from the audience turned seamlessly into a chorus of boos. So that was the audience’s level. They were the ‘family values’ crowd. Well, I could easily play to that.

Joan was crying. ‘It was just a precaution… I was travelling through hostile territory…’

I rounded on her. ‘So you’re swanning about northern France, dressed like a man, committing witchcraft, and you’re surprised some people want to burn you? You were in the late Medieval Period for god’s sake, have some decorum!’

The audience roared approval at my words. Joan seemed suddenly incensed.

‘How dare you!’ she screamed at me, and at Shrewsbury, who looked amused and energised by the audience’s reaction. ‘I served my God, I did nothing more, I served my God and my people! Please,’ she sobbed. ‘We are all Christians, let us unite against those who seek to scorn our god. Let us burn the real heretics, and embrace the peace of our one religion.’

But it was no use. The audience had turned on her. One man in particular, an elderly man in period dress, seemed particularly enraged.

‘Hypocrisy!’ he was shouting. ‘How can you talk of peace and burning in the same sentence? They’re each as bad as each other!’

I ran up the steps to him, camera tracking faithfully by my side.

‘Who are you?’ I demanded.

He looked faintly out of breath. ‘I am Jan Hus, and both of these people seek to destroy popular Christian rule, popular Christian justice, together!’

I made a mental note to kiss whichever executive producer had the bright idea to plant this eccentric oddball in the audience. It was ratings gold. We’d get a trailer together, of me berating an elderly madman, and I couldn’t imagine a single person who wouldn’t tune in.

‘Are you on stage?’ I asked him condescendingly.

‘Well, no…’ he spluttered.

‘Then stop gobbing off from the gallery, will you!? What kind of place do you think this is?’

‘A forum for human bear-baiting, clearly!’

Ah. A touch of the old self-righteousness, this one had. In that moment, I knew I wanted him onstage, moralising alongside the hate-mongering we were getting from the other guests.

‘That’s it!’ I yelled off stage. ‘Get him a chair, he’s coming on the Julius Carlysle Show!’

And the audience erupted in cheers again. I looked directly into camera.

‘But first, a message from our commercial sponsor. The Julius Carlysle Show is made possible by Time Turner Limited, bringing the best of the past and future to your fingertips. We’ll be right back.’

  I didn’t mind paying lip service to the sponsor on the programme; after all it was time travel that had single-handedly reinvigorated the television industry. Without the ability to pluck contestants directly from their timelines, reality programming would be stuck sifting through the general public again. We’d be in single-digit revenues, producing tiresome shows about home ownership, and cooking, and all the boring old things that people do every day. Now we were broadcasting history, albeit a heavily curated version of it, and we had lank amounts pouring in from elementary schools across the country, plus a special tax credit for educational programming. It made me feel good, and important, that we were making people smarter and at the same time captivating them. I felt like a cross between Charlie Chaplin and Maria Montessori; and I’d know, we got them both on a couple years ago to see who made the better cheese sandwich. Chaplin won, unless I’m very much mistaken.

‘Julius.’

I was shaken out of my reverie.

‘Julius, sorry to bother you on a break,’ it was Julie, one of the EPs. My personal favourite, in fact, until now that is. ‘It’s just we’ve been getting a spate of calls for you from the Big Brother house; apparently George Orwell’s completely lost the plot and is smashing the place up. Machiavelli and Franco are said to be terrified.’

Oh, Georgie, Georgie, Georgie, what have you got yourself into this time? I mused at the thought. ‘Tell them to make sure they’re getting it all on tape. I’ll be down there soon as we’ve sent Saint Joan back to the fifteenth century.’

I returned to the stage, where Joan and Shrewsbury were still sitting, looking disgruntled at the poorly-dressed hermit now sitting between them. He appeared to be combing is arm hair.

‘I say, you, is this going to take much longer?’ the old man asked. ‘It’s just I left Žižka with the wine and if you’re away for too long, the stuff’ll be gone faster than you can say strč prst skrz krk.’

‘Not too much longer,’ I replied, although I couldn’t think of why any of them would be eager to get back to the middle ages, especially the two that were heading back only to be executed by burning. Different mores, I supposed. People of this time period obviously valued efficiency over enjoyment.

Roxanne counted down and the light above camera three went red.

‘Welcome back to the show, I’m here with Joan, who claims she was given a divine mission to save France, Shrewsbury, who thinks she’s a witch, and… an old man who thinks they’re both fucked!

‘Joan, what do you say to this old man, who thinks you yourself have lost the plot of Christianity?’

‘Oh I know all about him,’ Joan cried hysterically. ‘I know all about his Hussites and their perverted religion, and their disdain for the sacrament!’

‘We don’t have disdain for the sacrament,’ Hus replied, bemused. ‘We just think the wine should be passed around equally. It’s not Church if you’re not a bit buzzed.’

I was about to move the conversation on from drinking the blood of a 1st Century Jew, interesting though it may have turned out to be, when filming was interrupted by an almighty crash from the green room. I tried to ignore it and continue the ‘bear-baiting’ but then there was another and several staff members ran out onto the stage, plainly terrified.

‘Okay cut the tape, what the fuck is that noise?’ Roxanne yelled angrily.

‘Julius,’ Julie called to me, half-jogging up to me on the stage stairs. ‘We’ve got a problem.’

‘Well I can fucking see that,’ I replied, annoyed. ‘What is it?’

‘You know tomorrow’s guests?’

‘Genghis Khan and Queen Victoria, isn’t it? We’re having our special Imperialist Royal Rumble.’

‘Yes well it’s absolutely gone off in the green room. They’ve both got ridiculously steely determination and are about as testy as you’d expect.’

This certainly was a problem.

‘So they’re fighting? Or fucking?’

‘We didn’t really hang around long enough to get a proper appraisal of the situation, Khan kicked us out with about two swings of his sabre.’

At that moment, a huge Mongolian man dressed in yak hide trudged into the room, holding an elderly woman’s head by the grey locks.

‘I HAVE VANQUISHED HER,’ he roared to the room in general. ‘ALL MAY REJOICE.’

The audience screamed and fled for cover. Blood was still dripping from the dead queen’s head, and Khan, mistaking the screams of terror for screams of approval, or mirth, or something, decided the best thing to do would be to throw the head into the crowd. All hell broke loose at that point, with people running and shouting and trying to escape what was almost certain to become a vicious bloodbath. They were quick to find that the studio doors were locked. However, I had bigger problems on my plate.

‘God, she wasn’t supposed to die till 1901! We’re going to get hammered by Ofcom for this. It’s a twenty million dollar fine. How in god’s cock are we going to cover this one up?’  

‘Shouldn’t we do something about the homicidal tyrant terrorising our guests first and worry about the clean-up later?’ Julie asked sardonically.

‘Heads are going to roll for this, I’m telling you,’ I told her, as we ducked a projectile hatchet. ‘Starting with yours. Either figuratively or literally, we’ll see.’

‘Can we tackle him, or bait him out with something?’

‘Do you think we could sneak her back into her quarters at the palace? Her courtiers’ll  blame the Fenians or… or a shaving accident.  And Ofcom might not realise for years. Even when they do, they’ll probably attribute it to the Mandela effect or something. I think that’s the way forward.’

Khan, meanwhile, had taken a particular interest in Joan. She seemed perturbed by his advances, which seemed to include the presentation of carrion on the floor in front of her seat. Hus, on the other hand, was staring good-naturedly at the warrior, while Shrewsbury had retreated under his chair for safety.

‘And this one,’ Khan was saying, producing a dead flying squirrel from his satchel, ‘will be for after the wedding, when we do shots of kumis…’

Hus was surveying the carrion with interest. ‘Mmm yes it would go lovely in a stew, with some dumplings, yes?’

I tentatively approached the group of guests. The trick was to remain calm, get all of them to remain calm, and then I could (somehow probably) trick them into the Time Turner and send them back to their historic deaths, thus erasing four key witnesses to the whole embarrassing debacle.  

‘Um, excuse me, Mr Khan?’

The Khan seemed to be in a considerably better mood, and he opened his arms in a conciliatory gesture and said ‘Call me Temüjin, please!’

‘Okay, Temüjin, now, the lady you beheaded back there… um, might I inquire as to where the rest of her body is?’

He looked a little bit affronted.

‘Oh, don’t be upset!’ I quickly qualified. ‘I’m not angry about the - incident - not at all, I just thought it would be - appropriate - to send her body back in tact, you know, to have respect for her family and that.’

He relaxed. ‘You’re right. It is the honourable thing. I shall show you.’ And with that, he walked down the stairs into the pulpit and through to the green room. Perfect,  I thought. That was where the Time Turner was. If I could get the rest of the entourage to follow, I could somehow convince them all to step inside in turn. Starting with the big fella. He seemed docile enough at the moment, but there was no way of telling what could happen. I didn’t fancy that sort of unpredictability. Anyway, I began to implore the rest of the guests to follow him. Shrewsbury didn’t seem to happy about vacating his nest under his own chair, but eventually complied and shuffled half-heartedly after the rest of the party.

In the green room, Her Majesty’s headless corpse lay prone on the floor beside the teak coffee table. I resolved to deal with it later, with the intention of returning it to her bedroom at Buckingham Palace and leaving it for them to sort out. First I had to find a way to convince Temüjin into the Time Turner.

‘You’ve got a bit of blood on you there, man,’ I said to him. ‘Wouldn’t you like to - uh - freshen up?’

Khan looked down at himself. ‘No, I’m alright. Don’t need to wash for another fortnight. Blood is good for the skin. Exfoliation.’

Right. Exfoliation. Of course. Genghis Khan is concerned about exfoliation. Now I’ve seen everything. But I had another tactic up my sleeve. I leaned in close in order to whisper the following.

‘I mean, of course it’s up to you, Temüjin, but I had kind of noticed you’ve got a little thing for Joan over there.’  He nodded thoughtfully. ‘Well, I don’t think she likes the blood thing much. I think you should use my shower, if only for her sake.’

Temüjin nodded. I brought him over to the Turner. ‘Well, this is my shower here, it’s fully automated. It’ll soap you and everything. Step right in.’

Temüjin’s eyes bulged and he stepped back involuntarily. ‘What is this thing? This vile sort of small room? No, no, a thousand times no. I cannot.’

I was surprised that he seemed so scared. He simply stood there, shaking his head, like a small child being propositioned by broccoli.

‘No, Temüjin, it’s completely safe, I promise you!’

But he remained steadfast.

‘Look, I’m telling you, I use it all the time. No harm will come to you. It cleans you perfectly! Come on!’

It was no use.

‘Okay, look, I’ll step into it to show you. It’s perfectly fine.’

BANG. As soon as I walked into the Turner, the door slammed behind me. I looked around immediately and just had time to see Temüjin’s grinning face, and his hand waving goodbye to me. Then the whole picture started to spin and spin and get considerably smaller as I sailed away from it, into the oblivion.

‘NOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!’ I screamed as my body felt a desperate shaking, kicking at the metaphysical walls of my transient box. But, in reality, I was calmer than you’d expect. I’d had a good life, I thought. Made a kick-ass TV show. Met some reasonably interesting figures. And persuaded them to degrade themselves on my behalf. Perhaps I was ready to end it. Only time will tell.

  ____________________________________________________________________________

  The audience was a feisty one. I could hear them from outside the yurt, restlessly cheering and chanting my name. I had only briefly spoken to my guests, a quick how-do-you-do beside the fire pit, as they were tanning their best hides. They seemed grumpy, but approachable.

I had stepped outside for a quick shot of kumis with nothing for company but the horses, tied to a post in the middle of the settlement. I paused for a moment, staring into the cold night air, but was woken from my reverie by my floor manager, Gerel, who had come to fetch me.

‘Julius, it’s time.’

I nodded. ‘I’ll be there in a minute, my dear.’ Stolen moments like these were what got me through the day. After a few seconds, I stood up and followed her back into the performance yurt. As I prepared to enter through the side flap, I affixed my biggest showbiz smile and jogged in.

‘Good evening, everybody!’ I shouted to the screaming crowd. ‘He’s a no-nonsense farmer who’s convinced that his own brother stole twelve of his yaks; while his brother claims their milk’s gone sour anyway. Let’s get Nergüi and Batbayar on the Julius Carlysle Show!’

Even more cheers erupted and my smile tightened. This crowd, I could work with.

[deathcookiesoup-press]

History Made Accessible by Karel Češpiva Death Cookie Soup, 2017

I met her only briefly before recording. She spoke only French, period French at that, and I remember thinking solemnly of the bother this was going to cause me. Audiences don’t like guests who speak in dead languages, and as every language besides American English is now classified ‘dead,’ this presents significant problems in the presentation aspect of our programmes. We have to troll the Classics departments of universities for an interpreter and then dub all of our talent’s lines, not to mention edit out all of the awkward pauses generated by the interpretation.

Anyway, I met Joan in the green room as Melinda was attempting to powder her face and wash out some of the mud that was caked into her hair. It was a quick meeting, how-do-you-do and that; I attempted some small talk about her journey but she didn’t seem to be in the mood. So I left her in the capable hands of our floor manager and made my way upstairs where the graphics guys were working on a banner for the piece.

‘Three Saints Told Me To Save France And Now He Wants To Kill Me For It’.

I mulled over the wording. I liked the beginning; the ‘Three Saints Told Me’. It was good; it established credibility. I didn’t want to get into a debate about whether-or-not there were saints and whether-or-not they appeared to her. That was just fluff, as far as I was concerned. It was best to take the saints thing for granted and move on to the conflict. That’s what they’d teach you in Television School, if there was one. Cut off everything auxiliary and get to the beans. Rather, cut the beans as well, and get to the flatulence. Everyone loves flatulence. People have built entire careers on farting. Forget the beans, forget eating them, just assume someone has eaten them and cut to the farting. This was a fast-paced show.

‘One thing,’ I said to Jerry, the head graphics guy. ‘I think “burn” is better than “kill”. More emotive.’

‘’No problem, boss,’ and he changed it.

I had further instruction. ‘Okay, Jerry, so I’m gonna be gunning for some good take-away lines here, from both parties, and I want you to be cued up to replace the banners with particularly prescient quotes from their dialogue. So if the Pommy bastard says “she’s a witch”, which he will, I want that quote underneath her face before she’s called him a snivelling limey dickhead, and then when she does, I want that quote under his face. You got me?’

‘Loud and clear, sir!’

‘Okay floor’s just buzzed me we’re ready to go; I want everyone primed! Remember, this isn’t Frost/Nixon; we did that in Show 22! This is important! Let’s go, people!’

I ran out onto the show floor, beaming the ridiculously large showbiz smile that only comes with extensive facial surgery. It was a feisty audience today; there was a lot of whooping and hollering, and an inflatable beach ball was being bounced around the auditorium, much to the chagrin of my beefy ‘co-host’, Security Syd.

My floor manager, Roxanne, counted down the seconds to recording. When she got to one I struggled to broaden my already-painful smile even further.

‘Good morning and welcome to the Julius Carlysle Show! Have we got a show for you this morning; she’s a feisty freedom fighter we plucked from Northern France in 1431, who was bestowed as a young girl a mission from his Holiness Saint Michael to defeat the Lancastrian Army and escort the Dauphin to his coronation. Now she faces burning at the stake for heresy! At only 19 years of age, let’s get Joan of Arc on the Julius Carlysle Show!’

Big signs above the audience’s eyelines flashed the word ‘applaud’ and they complied without hesitation. We specifically test our prospective audience for their willingness to obey instruction. The ones who get through the screening process have only a few IQ points on the average Dorset Horn sheep.

Cameras dollied backstage to capture Joan’s strut onto the stage. Unfortunately, it wasn’t much of a strut. It was more a diminutive shuffle, and upon her emergence onto the stage, to thundering applause, she looked vaguely unamused. She stood, mouth slightly agape, staring at the braying public. I directed her to one of the two chairs and she sat, legs pressed together, with the posture of a church pew. I crouched in front of her. I never sat on the programme; my commitment to fast-paced television prevented me this pleasure. I would squat, crouch, pace, leer, and, occasionally, pirouette. I had to be ready at all times to leap across the stage with the energy of a shaken beer, exploding with whatever emotion I deemed appropriate. I’ll be honest, it was usually anger. This presentational style kept my guests disconcerted and my audience invigorated.

But in this moment I would have to feign sympathy, only to throw it back in Joan’s face when she inevitably slipped up. It would put her on a teetering defensive roller coaster, poised to catastrophically plummet from her holier-than-thou attitude. So I crouched in front of her.

‘Joan, now, as I understand it, you were given a very special mission, at quite a young age, weren’t you?’

She nodded.

‘Tell us about it.’

She took a deep breath and began tentatively. ‘Well, I was twelve when Saint Michael came to Father’s front garden to tell me about the English invasion -’

I interrupted her. ‘Was it just Saint Michael or were there other saints as well?’

‘Saint Catherine and Saint Margaret came as well. They were so beautiful…’

‘And so they told you to rid the country of the English?’

‘Yes. They told me I had to escort the Dauphin to Paris for the coronation, and that this would make France whole again.’

I spun around theatrically and addressed the audience with a peevish grin. ‘Well, one person who wouldn’t want that would be our next guest, John Talbot, the First Earl of Shrewsbury, Lancastrian Commander of the English Forces. Let’s get John Talbot on the Julius Carlysle Show!’

The studio erupted into cheers once again. I was surprised by the audience’s fervour; several of them had begun to chant my name completely unprompted. The only time they’d usually do that was when I was about to verbally batter some of the noted hate figures we’d brought on the show, such as Mata Hari and Louis Riel.

Shrewsbury walked out onto the stage, his presence notably more polished than Joan’s had been. He grinned, waved at the audience, and pompously and laboriously wrung my hand.

‘Julius, hello, pleasure to be on, me old mucker.’

He flashed the audience another cheeky grin and sat down, separated from Joan only by the imposing presence of Security Syd.

I retreated to the steps in front of the audience pulpit and sat, leaning against the stage to show my comfortability with the latest arrival.

‘So, Shrewsbury, where do you get off burning someone to death for fulfilling a divine mission?’

‘Well, let’s be clear here, there is no divine mission besides ours. No self-respecting God want the French to have self-determination. He created us English for that very reason. No, this young lady has never met a saint in her life. She’s a liar, a tax cheat, and, in all probability, a witch.’

There we go. We had it. I turned with venom back to Joan. ‘You’re a witch, are you? How very typical, you come on here, eliciting sympathy, claiming benefits, and all the while you’ve been witching around France slandering saints. Your type disgusts me!’

Joan looked horrified. ‘No! I’m no witch! I just want to serve God and my country! I’ve done nothing else since I was a little girl!’

She didn’t call him a dickhead. She must not know we’re allowed to swear.

Shrewsbury tossed his head back and laughed. ‘No, no, no, you mustn’t listen to this second-rate prophet who can’t even read and write! And,’ he looked around mischievously, ‘if I may say so in such polite company, regularly cross-dresses.’

This was a game-changer. A collective gasp from the audience turned seamlessly into a chorus of boos. So that was the audience’s level. They were the ‘family values’ crowd. Well, I could easily play to that.

Joan was crying. ‘It was just a precaution… I was travelling through hostile territory…’

I rounded on her. ‘So you’re swanning about northern France, dressed like a man, committing witchcraft, and you’re surprised some people want to burn you? You were in the late Medieval Period for god’s sake, have some decorum!’

The audience roared approval at my words. Joan seemed suddenly incensed.

‘How dare you!’ she screamed at me, and at Shrewsbury, who looked amused and energised by the audience’s reaction. ‘I served my God, I did nothing more, I served my God and my people! Please,’ she sobbed. ‘We are all Christians, let us unite against those who seek to scorn our god. Let us burn the real heretics, and embrace the peace of our one religion.’

But it was no use. The audience had turned on her. One man in particular, an elderly man in period dress, seemed particularly enraged.

‘Hypocrisy!’ he was shouting. ‘How can you talk of peace and burning in the same sentence? They’re each as bad as each other!’

I ran up the steps to him, camera tracking faithfully by my side.

‘Who are you?’ I demanded.

He looked faintly out of breath. ‘I am Jan Hus, and both of these people seek to destroy popular Christian rule, popular Christian justice, together!’

I made a mental note to kiss whichever executive producer had the bright idea to plant this eccentric oddball in the audience. It was ratings gold. We’d get a trailer together, of me berating an elderly madman, and I couldn’t imagine a single person who wouldn’t tune in.

‘Are you on stage?’ I asked him condescendingly.

‘Well, no…’ he spluttered.

‘Then stop gobbing off from the gallery, will you!? What kind of place do you think this is?’

‘A forum for human bear-baiting, clearly!’

Ah. A touch of the old self-righteousness, this one had. In that moment, I knew I wanted him onstage, moralising alongside the hate-mongering we were getting from the other guests.

‘That’s it!’ I yelled off stage. ‘Get him a chair, he’s coming on the Julius Carlysle Show!’

And the audience erupted in cheers again. I looked directly into camera.

‘But first, a message from our commercial sponsor. The Julius Carlysle Show is made possible by Time Turner Limited, bringing the best of the past and future to your fingertips. We’ll be right back.’

I didn’t mind paying lip service to the sponsor on the programme; after all it was time travel that had single-handedly reinvigorated the television industry. Without the ability to pluck contestants directly from their timelines, reality programming would be stuck sifting through the general public again. We’d be in single-digit revenues, producing tiresome shows about home ownership, and cooking, and all the boring old things that people do every day. Now we were broadcasting history, albeit a heavily curated version of it, and we had lank amounts pouring in from elementary schools across the country, plus a special tax credit for educational programming. It made me feel good, and important, that we were making people smarter and at the same time captivating them. I felt like a cross between Charlie Chaplin and Maria Montessori; and I’d know, we got them both on a couple years ago to see who made the better cheese sandwich. Chaplin won, unless I’m very much mistaken.

‘Julius.’

I was shaken out of my reverie.

‘Julius, sorry to bother you on a break,’ it was Julie, one of the EPs. My personal favourite, in fact, until now that is. ‘It’s just we’ve been getting a spate of calls for you from the Big Brother house; apparently George Orwell’s completely lost the plot and is smashing the place up. Machiavelli and Franco are said to be terrified.’

Oh, Georgie, Georgie, Georgie, what have you got yourself into this time? I mused at the thought. ‘Tell them to make sure they’re getting it all on tape. I’ll be down there soon as we’ve sent Saint Joan back to the fifteenth century.’

I returned to the stage, where Joan and Shrewsbury were still sitting, looking disgruntled at the poorly-dressed hermit now sitting between them. He appeared to be combing his arm hair.

‘I say, you, is this going to take much longer?’ the old man asked. ‘It’s just I left Žižka with the wine and if you’re away for too long, the stuff’ll be gone faster than you can say strč prst skrz krk.’

‘Not too much longer,’ I replied, although I couldn’t think of why any of them would be eager to get back to the middle ages, especially the two that were heading back only to be executed by burning. Different mores, I supposed. People of this time period obviously valued efficiency over enjoyment.

Roxanne counted down and the light above camera three went red.

‘Welcome back to the show, I’m here with Joan, who claims she was given a divine mission to save France, Shrewsbury, who thinks she’s a witch, and… an old man who thinks they’re both fucked!

‘Joan, what do you say to this old man, who thinks you yourself have lost the plot of Christianity?’

‘Oh I know all about him,’ Joan cried hysterically. ‘I know all about his Hussites and their perverted religion, and their disdain for the sacrament!’

‘We don’t have disdain for the sacrament,’ Hus replied, bemused. ‘We just think the wine should be passed around equally. It’s not Church if you’re not a bit buzzed.’

I was about to move the conversation on from drinking the blood of a 1st Century Jew, interesting though it may have turned out to be, when filming was interrupted by an almighty crash from the green room. I tried to ignore it and continue the ‘bear-baiting’ but then there was another and several staff members ran out onto the stage, plainly terrified.

‘Okay cut the tape, what the fuck is that noise?’ Roxanne yelled angrily.

‘Julius,’ Julie called to me, half-jogging up to me on the stage stairs. ‘We’ve got a problem.’

‘Well I can fucking see that,’ I replied, annoyed. ‘What is it?’

‘You know tomorrow’s guests?’

‘Genghis Khan and Queen Victoria, isn’t it? We’re having our special Imperialist Royal Rumble.’

‘Yes well it’s absolutely gone off in the green room. They’ve both got ridiculously steely determination and are about as testy as you’d expect.’

This certainly was a problem.

‘So they’re fighting? Or fucking?’

‘We didn’t really hang around long enough to get a proper appraisal of the situation, Khan kicked us out with about two swings of his sabre.’

At that moment, a huge Mongolian man dressed in yak hide trudged into the room, holding an elderly woman’s head by the grey locks.

‘I HAVE VANQUISHED HER,’ he roared to the room in general. ‘ALL MAY REJOICE.’

The audience screamed and fled for cover. Blood was still dripping from the dead queen’s head, and Khan, mistaking the screams of terror for screams of approval, or mirth, or something, decided the best thing to do would be to throw the head into the crowd. All hell broke loose at that point, with people running and shouting and trying to escape what was almost certain to become a vicious bloodbath. They were quick to find that the studio doors were locked. However, I had bigger problems on my plate.

‘God, she wasn’t supposed to die till 1901! We’re going to get hammered by Ofcom for this. It’s a twenty million dollar fine. How in god’s cock are we going to cover this one up?’  

‘Shouldn’t we do something about the homicidal tyrant terrorising our guests first and worry about the clean-up later?’ Julie asked sardonically.

‘Heads are going to roll for this, I’m telling you,’ I told her, as we ducked a projectile hatchet. ‘Starting with yours. Either figuratively or literally, we’ll see.’

‘Can we tackle him, or bait him out with something?’

‘Do you think we could sneak her back into her quarters at the palace? Her courtiers’ll  blame the Fenians or… or a shaving accident.  And Ofcom might not realise for years. Even when they do, they’ll probably attribute it to the Mandela effect or something. I think that’s the way forward.’

Khan, meanwhile, had taken a particular interest in Joan. She seemed perturbed by his advances, which seemed to include the presentation of carrion on the floor in front of her seat. Hus, on the other hand, was staring good-naturedly at the warrior, while Shrewsbury had retreated under his chair for safety.

‘And this one,’ Khan was saying, producing a dead flying squirrel from his satchel, ‘will be for after the wedding, when we do shots of kumis…’

Hus was surveying the carrion with interest. ‘Mmm yes it would go lovely in a stew, with some dumplings, yes?’

I tentatively approached the group of guests. The trick was to remain calm, get all of them to remain calm, and then I could (somehow probably) trick them into the Time Turner and send them back to their historic deaths, thus erasing four key witnesses to the whole embarrassing debacle.  

‘Um, excuse me, Mr Khan?’

The Khan seemed to be in a considerably better mood, and he opened his arms in a conciliatory gesture and said ‘Call me Temüjin, please!’

‘Okay, Temüjin, now, the lady you beheaded back there… um, might I inquire as to where the rest of her body is?’

He looked a little bit affronted.

‘Oh, don’t be upset!’ I quickly qualified. ‘I’m not angry about the - incident - not at all, I just thought it would be - appropriate - to send her body back in tact, you know, to have respect for her family and that.’

He relaxed. ‘You’re right. It is the honourable thing. I shall show you.’ And with that, he walked down the stairs into the pulpit and through to the green room. Perfect,  I thought. That was where the Time Turner was. If I could get the rest of the entourage to follow, I could somehow convince them all to step inside in turn. Starting with the big fella. He seemed docile enough at the moment, but there was no way of telling what could happen. I didn’t fancy that sort of unpredictability. Anyway, I began to implore the rest of the guests to follow him. Shrewsbury didn’t seem to happy about vacating his nest under his own chair, but eventually complied and shuffled half-heartedly after the rest of the party.

In the green room, Her Majesty’s headless corpse lay prone on the floor beside the teak coffee table. I resolved to deal with it later, with the intention of returning it to her bedroom at Buckingham Palace and leaving it for them to sort out. First I had to find a way to convince Temüjin into the Time Turner.

‘You’ve got a bit of blood on you there, man,’ I said to him. ‘Wouldn’t you like to - uh - freshen up?’

Khan looked down at himself. ‘No, I’m alright. Don’t need to wash for another fortnight. Blood is good for the skin. Exfoliation.’

Right. Exfoliation. Of course. Genghis Khan is concerned about exfoliation. Now I’ve seen everything. But I had another tactic up my sleeve. I leaned in close in order to whisper the following.

‘I mean, of course it’s up to you, Temüjin, but I had kind of noticed you’ve got a little thing for Joan over there.’  He nodded thoughtfully. ‘Well, I don’t think she likes the blood thing much. I think you should use my shower, if only for her sake.’

Temüjin nodded. I brought him over to the Turner. ‘Well, this is my shower here, it’s fully automated. It’ll soap you and everything. Step right in.’

Temüjin’s eyes bulged and he stepped back involuntarily. ‘What is this thing? This vile sort of small room? No, no, a thousand times no. I cannot.’

I was surprised that he seemed so scared. He simply stood there, shaking his head, like a small child being propositioned by broccoli.

‘No, Temüjin, it’s completely safe, I promise you!’

But he remained steadfast.

‘Look, I’m telling you, I use it all the time. No harm will come to you. It cleans you perfectly! Come on!’

It was no use.

‘Okay, look, I’ll step into it to show you. It’s perfectly fine.’

BANG. As soon as I walked into the Turner, the door slammed behind me. I looked around immediately and just had time to see Temüjin’s grinning face, and his hand waving goodbye to me. Then the whole picture started to spin and spin and get considerably smaller as I sailed away from it, into the oblivion.

‘NOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!’ I screamed as my body felt a desperate shaking, kicking at the metaphysical walls of my transient box. But, in reality, I was calmer than you’d expect. I’d had a good life, I thought. Made a kick-ass TV show. Met some reasonably interesting figures. And persuaded them to degrade themselves on my behalf. Perhaps I was ready to end it. Only time will tell.

____________________________________________________________________________

The audience was a feisty one. I could hear them from outside the yurt, restlessly cheering and chanting my name. I had only briefly spoken to my guests, a quick how-do-you-do beside the fire pit, as they were tanning their best hides. They seemed grumpy, but approachable.

I had stepped outside for a quick shot of kumis with nothing for company but the horses, tied to a post in the middle of the settlement. I paused for a moment, staring into the cold night air, but was woken from my reverie by my floor manager, Gerel, who had come to fetch me.

‘Julius, it’s time.’

I nodded. ‘I’ll be there in a minute, my dear.’ Stolen moments like these were what got me through the day. After a few seconds, I stood up and followed her back into the performance yurt. As I prepared to enter through the side flap, I affixed my biggest showbiz smile and jogged in.

‘Good evening, everybody!’ I shouted to the screaming crowd. ‘He’s a no-nonsense farmer who’s convinced that his own brother stole twelve of his yaks; while his brother claims their milk’s gone sour anyway. Let’s get Nergüi and Batbayar on the Julius Carlysle Show!’ Even more cheers erupted and my smile tightened. This crowd, I could work with.