#A little out of the ordinary

[anmylica]

Chapter 8: The Price We Pay

Tagging the Usual Crew: @kmomof4 @xarandomdreamx @zaharadessert @sotangledupinit @snowbellewells @tiganasummertree

Want to be added? Ask me!

Read on AO3

Catch Up Here: 01 02 03 04 05 06 07

Rumple slunk into the library just before 7 o’clock and glanced warily at the shadows in the stacks. He didn’t see the boyish figure of his father anywhere, so he looked around him as he waited. Everything in the library was covered in a fine layer of dust, as if no one had been around to take care of anything. He supposed that the only librarian Storybrooke had ever had would have been the only one worthy enough of being the librarian here. He really missed Belle.

Rumple perused the titles as he waited, but nothing of interest caught his eye. He was beginning to think that this was a waste of his time. Just as he was debating the merits of leaving and still managing to screw over his father, the door opened. In walked Peter Pan in his dark, charcoal gray three piece suit, looking as youthful as ever. Rumple saw through the lie of the facade, that underneath the outward appearance of devil-may-care self-confidence, there was a coward who didn’t want to face what his unfinished business was.

“Ah, Rumple! I’m glad to see you’ve taken my deal.” Pan smiled a cold, unfeeling smile.

“Well how could I pass up information on the whereabouts of my son? You drive a hard bargain, Papa,” Rumple replied, his voice dripping with thinly disguised oil.

“Indeed I do. I hope you won’t be too offended that I’ll need some assurance that you won’t engage in any unsavory business.” Pan shrugged. “It’s not that I don’t trust you son.”

Rumple nodded once. He had expected this when Pan approached him to offer a deal. He had written this “contract” as carefully as he could.

“Of course.” Rumple pulled out a rolled-up parchment that had a red ribbon tied around it. “I trust it will be to your liking?”

Pan rolled out the parchment, reading over it for a moment before smiling widely. Rumple let no outward emotion show on his face, but inside Rumple was relieved. If Pan fell for this ruse, then it would solve several of his problems.

“I do believe we have an accord.” Pan signed the parchment and once the signature was complete, the scroll disappeared.

Rumple waited. Pan shrugged his shoulders. “I suppose you want my part of the bargain now?”

“Indeed. Where is my son?”

Pan shrugged again and shook his head. “I haven’t seen him.”

Rumple sneered. “You lie.”

“Oh, I’m telling you the truth. I haven’t seen him. But word on the street is that Hades has him working some dead-end job that he absolutely hates. I’m sure you’ll see him around if you stay in the Underworld long enough.”

Rumple pointed his finger at Pan. “Our deal was that you would tell me exactly where he is.”

“And I don’t exactly know. I only know what I’ve heard, and that’s that he’s here sentenced to working a dead-end job.”

Rumple scowled. “What dead-end job?”

Pan shrugged. “Who knows? I certainly don’t. I’m not the one in charge of this place, Rumple.” Pan smirked and raised his eyebrows suggestively. “This isn’t Neverland. I can say that I’ve heard he was sentenced to providing help and support to newly departed mothers who have left behind a child. Or multiple children, as the case may be,” Pan added as an afterthought after considering his statement.

Rumple narrowed his eyes as he considered just what his father was up to. Whatever it was, he knew that it only seemed to be nothing more than a game. This time, Rumple was determined that he wouldn't be the one playing.

“And there’s nothing else?” Rumple asked shrewdly.

“There’s nothing else I know.”

Rumple slowly nodded, seeing what Pan wouldn’t reveal outright. “Then I will see you when the next part of our deal comes about.

Pan grinned broadly. “See you around, laddie.” Pan turned and left the library, leaving Rumplestiltskin by himself, with only his thoughts for company.

Peter Pan never failed at getting what he wanted, and what he wanted was to be restored to life. Hades was no fun, always all work and no play. Malcom had given up all that adult nonsense when he became Peter Pan, and he loathed even the thought that this upstart of a God would keep him from being who he wanted to be. He’d show Hades what he thought of the audacity of making him work an adult’s toil. To make sure that he would get what he wanted, he just had to make sure that his son didn’t find Baelfire.

He hadn’t lied when he had told Rumple that he didn’t know where Bae was, exactly. Before this moment, he had only heard a rumor of who the new counselor was to bereaved mothers. He had deliberately waited until this moment to come and see his grandson and lay the foundation to getting what he most desired, and if he had to manipulate Rumple to do it, well, hadn’t he been doing that for all of Rumple’s life? So really, he wasn’t doing anything that he hadn’t already done. None of this was wrong.

He opened the door softly to Bae’s office and peeked inside. Bae was sitting at a desk, writing something in what looked like a file. His appearance was disheveled, his shirt untucked and his hair having that certain kind of greasy wildness it had had for as long as Pan had known the adult version of his grandson. He had a frustrated visage as he wrote and flipped through pages in the file.

“It looks like you could use a break,” Pan said, taking a small sort of twisted pleasure at the jump Bae did. Upon seeing who it was, Bae scowled and turned back to his work.

“Just what are you doing here?” Bae asked, not bothering to acknowledge Pan’s words.

“Can’t I come see my favorite grandson?” Pan countered, not answering the question on purpose. Just because this wasn’t Neverland didn’t mean they couldn’t all play a game, right?

Bae sighed. “You’ve never particularly cared about me before. Why start now?” Pan didn’t acknowledge the truth in this statement.

“Do you ever think about him?” Pan asked. When Bae didn’t answer, he continued. “Henry, I mean,” Pan clarified.

Bae looked confused. “What?”

“I mean what with you abandoning him and his mum. Then dying. It seems to me you would miss him.” Pan shrugged and sauntered over to a bookshelf, picking up a random knick-knack and weighing it in his hand.

Bae glared at Pan as he retorted, “That isn’t yours. And besides, I’ll see Henry again.”

Pan cocked his head to the side. “How do you know?”

Bae shrugged. “Faith.”

Pan was silent for a moment. “What if I told you there was another way?”

Bae looked up through his lashes at Pan. “A way for what?” he asked.

“To see him again. This is the Underworld version of Storybrooke. Everything there is here.”

Bae sighed and put his pen on the desk. “Can’t you ever give a straight answer about anything?”

Pan smirked. “What would be the fun in that?” Bae had no idea, but everything was falling into place. He was doing exactly what Pan wanted. Rumple was going to be in for a treat when he learned of what his father had done to his beloved son.

Bae ignored the question. “Either tell what you know or get out.”

“You’ve grown up to be rather boring.” Pan scowled for a moment. “All work and no play,” he observed. After a moment when Bae didn't respond, Pan sighed. “Have you ever heard of the Wishing Well?” he asked. At Bae’s slight head shake, he explained, “It’s a dormant portal. It’s one of the links between this world and the living, the same as it’s the link between Storybrooke and the Enchanted Forest in the Living Realms. You can communicate with the other side using it.”

Pan paused for a moment, waiting on Bae to catch on to what he was implying. Bae was silent as he took in the information.

Then Pan continued. “You can send him a message. Just drop it into the well and it’ll make its way to him.” Pan turned to leave, but turned back as if he had forgotten something. “And when you do, give this to him from me.” Pan tossed Bae a bottle with a rolled up message inside. Bae only just caught it in his hands, surprised by the action the pseudo-boy had taken. “And tell him I said ‘No hard feelings,‘ will you?”

Pan left the office, closing the door behind him and smirking as he thought about the trap he had just laid for his grandson. Let Rumple double cross him now.

“Answer me, now! Where is he?! How did you come to find him?” Emma demanded, not allowing herself to pause for even a breath.

Meg nodded, a little frightened by how forceful Emma was being. “He’s down in Hades’ dungeon. I’m afraid he’s getting the ‘welcoming treatment.’”

“‘Welcoming treatment’?” David echoed. “What does that mean?”

Milah cleared her throat. “It’s what happens to all newly arrived souls. He prepares them for life down here. Usually through some sort of mental or emotional torture for the wrongs you committed while living, as a bit of a preview for what awaits you if you try to move on without resolving your unfinished business. And then he assigns you a job to do while you wait in a sort of purgatory state.”

Meg nodded in agreement. “The thing is, though, that you can never resolve your unfinished business. Most people don’t even know what theirs is. It would take a special kind of magic to be able to point the people of the Underworld towards knowing it.”

Emma blinked for a moment as the oddity of those words struck her, but she had a more pressing question. “Can you come here without unfinished business?”

Milah shrugged. “I’ve never known anyone to be here without unfinished business. I think those people just usually move straight on to Elysiam.”

Emma blinked and then turned to Meg, trying to put aside the niggle of doubt in her mind at what could possibly be Killian’s unfinished business. She very carefully tried not to look at the brunette who had been Killian’s first love and the woman whose death he had cheated time in order to avenge. “So he’s roughing him up a bit or what?”

“I’m afraid what he’s doing to him is worse than that. It’s not safe for you out in the open,” Meg grimaced in apology.

Although it felt as if her heart was being crushed anew at Meg’s words, Emma knew she had to put it to the side for the moment and take care of the immediate needs, which was finding someplace safe for them to regroup and come up with a different plan. She nodded in agreement and looked at everyone. “How safe is the loft?” she finally addressed her parents.

Snow’s face fell and David took her into his arms. He shook his head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. We encountered something, we don’t know what, and it…” David trailed off. “I just don’t think the loft is safe for us to use right now.”

Emma’s brow furrowed at the vibe she was picking up off her parents, but she decided to let it slide for the moment. “Alright. Regina?”

Regina shook her head. “I don’t trust that my home is open for us. It’s technically the mayor’s residence, and I don’t know who the mayor is down here.”

Emma nodded her head again. “Then I guess there’s only one true option for us.” With a wave of her hand, the group all disappeared in a haze of thick gray smoke, reappearing just outside of the Underworld replica of her Storybrooke Victorian. Milah and Meg gaped at her, shaken by their sudden relocation by magic. The rest of the group didn’t look as if they had noticed.

They all stared up at the front door, no one moving or saying anything.

“Do you reckon it’s safe?” Robin ventured to ask, hesitating like all the others after everything that had happened in the Land of the Dead thus far.

Emma took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “Only one way to find out, I suppose.” She climbed the steps slowly, the rest following her lead, and she opened the door and stepped slowly inside, observing the front rooms for anything dangerous.

Her living room was in disarray. Her old crib from the castle in the Enchanted Forest and the unicorn mobile took up a large portion of the room, and every inch of the floor was covered in the toys that she had seen from visiting her parent’s castle in her first visit to their kingdom. Emma heaved a sigh. She knew what this was about. She moved to the center of the room and folded her arms, glancing around sadly as the others filed in, staring at the scene before them as well.

“What’s all of this?” Milah asked, a confused look on her face.

“This stuff was in my room in the castle in the Enchanted Forest. It was part of the life I was supposed to have had before the Dark Curse was cast.” Emma picked up a stuffed pirate toy and gave a soft, pained smile.

“Castle? Dark Curse?” Milah echoed.

Emma nodded, but said no more.

“I can fill you in later, Grandma,” Henry added easily, taking the changing situation in stride as only Henry could. Milah looked at him wide-eyed. “You don’t mind if I call you that, do you?” Milah shook her head in amazement.

Regina cast a detection spell over the house, waiting for the red light to reveal any other people that might be there, too. Nothing happened; the house was empty.

“It looks like we’re safe here for now,” Regina announced. Everyone began shuffling the toys and baby furniture around, making room for them all to sit. The couches were draped in canvas cloths to keep the dust off, and they removed those as well.

Emma moved deeper into the living room to grab a sheet off the back of a chair, but she stopped short of reaching it, a strange look on her face. She felt a tugging pull at her navel, heard a strange tinkling sound, and she cocked her head to try and detect it better. Everyone else stopped what they were doing to stare at her worriedly, for no one else knew what was happening, but she didn’t notice. She listened harder. Not a sound could be heard except for the tinkling. It almost reminded her of bells or possibly even wind chimes.

Emma took a step forward, instinct propelling her to move, though she didn’t know where she was going. She couldn’t explain this sensation. It felt like her heart was being pulled out of her chest by some invisible hand, but it didn’t hurt. It didn’t feel like when Cora had tried to take it; that had felt as if she were in the throes of experiencing a heart attack, the horrible feeling stopping only when her magic had rebuffed Cora’s attempts. No, she felt as if her heart was trying to return to a place… a place almost like home…

Lost in her trance as she was, she didn’t realize where she was going until she stopped just in front of her basement door, her hand outstretched to open it. She hesitated, some sixth sense ringing her alarm bells in her head as she beheld the door, and she stood indecisively in front of it. What was down there that was pulling at her so?

“Emma?” Snow called, worried for her daughter. Emma has just gotten rid of the Darkness, and she feared that her daughter was possibly experiencing some lingering effect that the Darkness might have left on her soul.

Emma visibly jumped at hearing her mother’s voice, blinking rapidly. She stared at the door a moment more, but the tugging sensation had ceased and the pealing bells had subsided. She shook her head as if to rid it of her thoughts and turned away from the basement door.

“Yeah, let’s do this. Let’s figure out what we’re going to do next!” Emma moved to sit in the chair she had just uncovered, looking at everyone else nervously. She hoped no one asked her about what had just happened; she didn’t know if it even made any sense to herself.

“Are you sure you want us to help? I don’t want to get in your way or make you feel like I don’t want to help you,” Snow responded softly, a concerned look on her face.

Emma looked at her mom confusedly. “What do you mean?”

Snow swallowed and David grasped his wife’s hand as he realized what Snow’s concern was about. “When we were at the loft, you came to me and told me you were better off without us, that we were holding you back, to put it mildly. I just don’t want you to feel that way,” Snow assured her. Everyone just looked at her in even more concern.

“Oh, Mom, of course I don’t feel that way!” Emma exclaimed, her face falling in misery and sympathy.

Snow sniffed and smiled a watery smile. “Well, I just wanted to be sure.”

Henry piped up, “Wait, you said she came to you at the loft? That’s impossible. Mom and I were together the whole time!”

“I think it might have been whatever magic is at play here,” David replied. He proceeded to tell him what Mary Margaret had experienced. Once David was finished, Emma crossed the room to where her parents were.

“Mom, I promise, I don’t feel that way at all.” Emma hugged her mother tightly, and Snow returned it with equal fervor. “And I promise that my little brother doesn’t feel that way either. He has no reason to.” Snow nodded her head, the tears that had gathered in her eyes falling down her cheeks in relief. Emma and Snow shared smiles, and Emma stood and faced Regina and Robin. “So what happened with you guys? Did you find anything important?”

“I saw my parents in a magical fire in my office. They looked like they were being tortured by Hades,” Regina sniffed. “But we’ll get back to that in a moment. We saw Roland die.”

Emma whipped her head to stare at Regina. “You saw Roland die? How? When?”

Snow and David started, and then they exchanged looks of disbelief and horror. Milah’s brow furrowed, but she didn’t say anything otherwise. She crossed her arms and waited; Meg looked between them all, confused.

“It was Hades,” Robin said. “He came to us after Roland ran into a fire. Said that was my punishment for coming here.”

Emma frowned. “Did he say how Roland got here?”

“No, just that his death was our price,” Regina answered.

“He did say something about wanting us to lose hope,” Robin added.

Emma furrowed her brow and bit her lip. Something didn’t feel right about this situation. There was too much magic in the air around them; she could feel it tingling and prickling her skin. It felt eerily similar to how the Darkness felt when she had been the Dark One, only more primordial and unearthly. And more unyielding.

Meg visibly hesitated. “Well, that’s exactly what he wants.”

Everyone’s eyes turned to stare at her.

“Come again?” Emma asked. “What does who want?”

Meg swallowed. “Hades. He wants everyone to be hopeless. That’s why he’s going after all of you like this.”

David’s brows furrowed in concern. “Do you have any idea why?”

Meg shrugged. “I don’t know why he would want that now. The last time I faced him, it was with my True Love. We barely defeated him the last time, but we died in the process.”

“Was he as horrible then as he is now?” David asked sardonically as he crossed his arms.

Meg smiled a little. “He’s actually gotten worse.”

“Well, then we try to lay low,” Emma said after a moment. “We need to have somewhere safe established. Did you guys get to actually check the loft out, or did Hades keep you from it?” she asked her parents.

David nodded. “I went in there and retrieved Mary Margaret’s bow and quiver. I got my sword too. There was no sign of Hook.”

Emma nodded, half in acknowledgement and half in disappointment. “We just keep looking. For now,” she continued, facing Robin and Regina as Snow, David, and Henry moved to take off the sheets of canvas that were draped all over the furniture in the living space of her house. “Are you sure that Roland is dead?”

Robin sneered, “I saw my son burn with my own eyes! Just what are you trying to insinuate here?”

“Nothing!” Emma exclaimed, holding up her hands. “I’m just trying to figure out what we’re dealing with!”

“Well, there wasn’t anything I could do! I couldn’t get to him fast enough to stop it! He was everything to me, and now he’s gone!” Robin fell silent as heavy, bereaved sobs wracked his body. Regina hugged him, trying to offer any bit of comfort she could.

Emma grimaced in sympathy, but she wasn’t deterred from thinking that something was amiss in this whole scenario. She wondered if she could use the mirror magic and maybe check in on how things were back in Storybrooke. Perhaps she could check just to make sure Roland really was gone? She wandered over to an elaborately carved full-length mirror that was shrouded by the sheet. She pulled it off, concentrated, and waved her hand. Storybrooke appeared within the glass.

By now, she had the attention of everyone. She ignored them and used her magic to try and locate Roland. She finally found him through a mirror in the original Granny’s, and everyone gasped. Robin stood from where he had collapsed to the floor and moved to the mirror, standing so close his nose nearly touched the glass. Roland was there with Little John and a couple of others within the band of Merry Men, slurping a milkshake and smiling as Little John spoke to him. He looked happy and healthy (and very much alive).

“How is this possible?” breathed Robin. “I watched him die; I saw his ashes!”

Emma stepped back a bit from the mirror, making sure to keep the connection stable for the father to look his fill. She said grimly, “I think we need to be wary of how things seem down here. And we should be on our guard in regards to Hades and what he wants to present as real to us.”

Meg stood suddenly. “I should be going. I’m not sure how much longer it will be before the demons down here sense that I’m out of the Labyrinth. I don’t want to put you in any more danger.”

Emma frowned. “Are you sure we can’t do anything more to help you?”

Meg smiled. “It’s fine. I’ve been down here for eons; what’s a few more, anyway? Just… Can you do something for me?”

“Anything,” Emma responded.

“If you happen to find Hercules, tell him I love him? And that I miss him terribly?” Meg smiled a sad smile.

Mary Margaret gasped when she heard the name, but the only one who paid her any attention was David, who sent her a questioning look. Mary Margaret shook her head slightly, and David accepted it. He knew his wife would tell him later.

“Of course,” Emma replied. “But how do you know he’s still here, that he hasn’t moved on?”

Meg shook her head. “The Underworld doesn’t work that way. You can only move on once you’ve completed your unfinished business. Reuniting is our unfinished business. He can’t move on without me, and I can’t move on without him. That’s what it means to be True Love down here.”

Emma nodded understandingly. “Then don’t let us keep you. Good luck getting back.”

Meg reached out to take Emma’s hand into her own, though Emma hadn’t offered it, and clasped it firmly. “Thanks.” With that, Meg walked out of the apartment, intent on heading back to the Labyrinth and her cell within the dungeons. For the first time in a long time, Meg had a funny feeling in her chest. It felt an awful lot like hope.

Killian’s voice cracked as he cried out once more, the pain of the lash he was at the end of becoming almost repetitive. His wounds were bleeding freely, the blood turning that brownish black that it always did in the places where it was beginning to dry to his clothing and skin. Hades had been at this for so long that Killian had lost count of the time that had passed since he was dragged back to Hades’ throne room. His only thought now was about whether or not Meg had overcome her fear and reluctance at leaving her cell to try and deliver his message. He hoped that Emma got it.

He lay trembling against the pillar he had been chained to, his body threatening to give out at any moment. He lapsed in and out of consciousness and was unable to track what Hades was doing. Hades had his hook, and he had used it on Killian in between lashes, carving lines of shallow cuts in a cross-cross pattern that went perpendicular to the lash marks. Killian’s jacket was nearly torn to shreds in parts, offering no protection against Hades’ sadistic cruelty.

“You just have to resist me, don’t you?” Hades drawled as he took a break, looking at the hook, the surface marred by the blood stains covering nearly every part of the metal. “You’ve brought all of this onto yourself. I hope you’re satisfied.”

Killian’s head swayed slightly as he tried to focus on Hades, fighting against losing consciousness once more. He was determined to stay awake as long as he could. “I’ll be satisfied when it’s you on the receiving end of my hook,” Killian grunted out, the effort of retaliating against the god costing him what little bit of energy he had. He slid further down the brick pillar an inch or two, nearly lying prone on the floor.

Hades laughed. “Considering I have your hook, I think it’ll be you on the other end of it. But I have better uses for your handy appendage.” Hades held the hook in the palm of his hand and it disappeared in a puff of smoke. “I do hope your Savior loves gifts.” Hades smiled a sadistic, twisted grin and his hair erupted into blue flames, twisting his expression even further.

Rumplestiltskin didn’t like making any sort of deal with his father, but he knew that he had to in order to make sure Pan’s plans didn’t come to fruition. It vexed him that his father twisted the information of Bae’s whereabouts, but he didn’t need Peter Pan to find Baelfire. Not when he knew where Emma Swan was in this hellhole.

Resolved to coercing her to help him find his son, he poofed out of the library and back into his shop with a wave of his hand. Before he enlisted her help, he had to have something of value to offer her. He needed to nail down the whereabouts of the pirate (or at least determine the most likely location Killian Jones was being kept). It wasn’t good to go into a situation without any sort of leverage, and if there was anything Rumplestiltskin was good at, it was acquiring leverage.

Many of the magical objects he had in his possession were back in the Land of the Living, and thus useless, but he might still be able to find something to help him get a hold of Jones’ location. If only he had something of the pirate’s that he could use for a locator spell…

Rumple shuffled through some of the books that were there on the magical arts, varying shades of darkness inscribed within their pages. He finally pulled one off the shelf that he hadn’t seen before. He opened it to find it was written mostly in Greek. While he had made it a point to study all the most common languages in which spells were written during his centuries of life, Greek was one of those that he had spent very little time on. He didn’t know how to read most of it.

Feeling a small sense of frustration, he flipped through a few pages, peering disinterestedly at some of the illustrations that appeared. It seemed like this was nothing but another dead end. He flipped to one last page and moved to close the book when an illustration caught his eye. It was of a long woven tapestry hanging in a hall. Smirking, he realized just what he was looking at. Though it wasn’t going to provide him with leverage, he might be able to use it to convince Emma to help him anyway. After all, they had to get out of this hell hole once they had the pirate back. This bit of information would help them be able to do that. Waving his hand again, he disappeared in a puff of smoke to try and convince Emma Swan that they each had something to offer the other.

[turtleblogatlast]

Something I’ve been thinking about lately is that small moment in “Air Turtle” where immediately after the Daves lose yet another game, Leo says how sorry he is and how he’s doing his best as the mascot. This moment is so short but it’s honestly jam-packed with a whole heap of characterization.

His need to apologize for things clearly not his fault - especially when it feels like he messes up the job he was given despite doing the best he can (the phrase “it’s not about you” takes a new meaning when this is one of the lessons to be learned from that - that he is not always solely responsible for things going wrong), his need to save face and make a connection with an older adult man in his life (something he consistently does throughout the series - he’s got a few daddy issues, always collecting potential father figures, it’s no wonder he jumps at the bit to keep rapport), and the way he sounds and looks and the words he chooses really pushes how he is just a kid (“Mr. the Dunk, I’m so sorry”).

Like I know it’s a one off moment that doesn’t truly mean much, but when put against the rest of the series it works really well with the rest of Leo’s established character and helps in solidifying later concepts as well.

[lavendorii]

highchoolers (and iori)

[gorespawn]

grieving every single day that the average person is so unbelievably fucking squeamish. i want to talk about cool stuff that i like! but alas, i am not allowed to 💔

[al-luviec]

I got so insanely mad while drawing this

+ closeup and normalness

[canisalbus]

happy birthday! 💕🎉🌻

I really hope it’s a lovely one!!!

Oh thank you! ;-; 🧡

[radfem-raccoon]

I really hate being called queer. My attraction to women isn't abnormal or strange, it's completely natural and anyone who says otherwise is just being homophobic.

[miwhotep]

Sometimes even Ruskin can be tired...

Ruskin: If I find more information about William James Moriarty, Milverton-sama will surely be happy.

At the office: Evil laugh practice. Do not disturb.

Ruskin: Sometimes I wonder what it's like to have a normal boss...

[softquietsteadylove]

HI!!!

it’s been a long time since the last doctor au. Can we get something new, please?

Thena eyes the woman chatting up her Gilgamesh. He's making friendly conversation, she knows. But the woman is obviously aiming for more than just friendly, the way she keeps laughing and smiling and putting her hand on his arm.

She has no one to blame but herself, Thena knows. The hospital fundraiser has been scheduled for months, and she's the one insisting their relationship remain secret from their coworkers. And of course Gil agreed, because it's Gil.

But watching women be all over him all night has been one hell of a just desserts. She takes a sip of her drink. Gil catches her eye and makes a bit of a face. He shrugs, which fits into the woman's story enough that she doesn't notice. But he's apologising to her - Thena - for it.

But she has no one to blame but herself.

Maybe the secrecy is overrated. She looks over to the dance floor, where Sersi is happily tucked into her husband's embrace as they sway to the music. They seem to make it work. Thena doesn't know how someone as sweet as Sersi is with someone as bullheaded as the orthopaedic specialist himself. But maybe the same could be said of her and Gil.

Thena tosses back the last of her champagne and walks straight towards Gil's table. This is why people don't like her socially--she's overly direct, chilly, has no bedside manner when it comes to her colleagues. She stares at them, "mind if I cut in?"

"Uh, yeah?"

"Not at all," Gil smiles though, and it's all the assurance she needs. He even pulls out the chair next to him for her.

His visitor visibly and audibly scoffs and rolls her eyes. Thena thinks she recognises her from HR or accounting or some other level of administration. She gets up in a huff anyway. Thena seats herself, tugging her dress around without a thought to the delicacy of the material.

But Gil sorts out the skirt of it more nicely. He even lets his hand brush the side of her leg where the slit allows him to. He sneaks his eyes up to hers, "you look beautiful."

She's glad that woman got up in a huff as she feels her face warm up several degrees. "Nothing you haven't seen before."

Because he helped her get ready, after they'd had a few good rounds in her bed, and before arriving in separate cars. Still, he compliments her, because of course he does. He swirls his own champagne, looking quite smart in his dark green suit.

All the doctors are in tuxes, but she likes how this colour brings out his eyes.

"Are you making any good connections?" he asks, like any of their colleagues would. It's as much a night for them to have off as it is for them to schmooze wealthy benefactors into donating to the hospital.

"None," she deadpans, and he laughs from his belly in response. She loves his laugh. "You?"

He snorts and throws back the last of his flute. "No one even knows us."

"That's not true," she nudges his arm as she leans back in her chair in a very unladylike way. She gestures, "Kingo knows how to work a crowd."

True, the man of the hour is in the centre of a circle of people listening to his stories. She's quite sure he's trying to convince someone to write a medical drama about his stories as an EMT.

"Well, I'm no Kingo," Gil shakes his head at his partner, not that they would have him any other way.

Thena spares a furtive glance around them, although most have moved on from the tables to search for more finger food or hit the dance floor. She risks brushing her hand over his casually, "you're better."

Gil matches her energy, though, letting his hand cup hers for just as brief a moment, "you're in a good mood tonight."

She can say it's the booze, but she's only had the one glass. It's not to her taste, but it's part of the atmosphere. "When was the last time we got a night off to do this?"

He gives her a grin that's a little mischievous on the tail end. "Our first date?"

She looks away again, because sometimes these little moments still make her feel like she's liking him from afar again. "That was a good night."

"Our only date, in some ways," he corrects, although there's no malice or ill will behind it. Even though he would love to have more proper dates to their name as a couple.

Thena sighs, though, because he deserves that. He deserves to go wild to his romantic heart's desire, no matter how overwhelmed it makes her feel. She leans forward against the table, "Gil-"

"Oh, Gil!" a shrill voice singsongs over the music.

Thena scowls as her whole body knots up. His friend is back, and she's brought company. "Eros."

"Thena, darling, looking ravishing as always," the self-proclaimed 'god of love' himself grins at her. He is one of the doctors in a full blown tuxedo. "Gotten any donations?"

"No, no one donates to an emergency room unless it guarantees benefits to them personally." The two newcomers look at her uncomfortably but it's true; no one ever donates to the emergency room because it's for the public, not for the highest insured patients.

"Well, what if I make a donation?" Eros grandstands, putting on his most winsome smile and even reaching into his suit jacket pocket. Does he really have his checkbook just...in there?

Thena points, "admin will take it."

The woman gets tired of playing this game. She sidesteps Eros to put her hands on Gil's shoulders. "Oh, enough business! It's time for you two to take to the floor."

Gil just stares. Just because he's big doesn't mean he likes getting climbed on like a children's jungle gym. He shakes his head faintly at her; he's asking what to do.

Thena sighs. That's why she brought Eros with her; he's a distraction to keep her from stealing Gil's attention again. Stealing attention from her own partner is an amusing thought. But she hasn't had enough to drink for it to be thoroughly entertaining.

The woman backs up as she stands. She and Eros watch as Thena grasps Gil's tie, pulling it out from his suit jacket and using it to turn his head and drag his lips to hers. She even makes a dramatic little moan just for them.

Gil is happy to oblige. He responds, sliding his hands up her body in the way that's familiar to them. They were doing exactly this a few short hours ago. When they part he doesn't even look to see if their audience has stuck around. "Thought you'd never ask, honey."

Thena keeps her hold on Gil's tie as she moves towards the dance floor, abandoning her clutch on the table. There's nothing in it but her phone and, well, a few contraceptives (in case Gil got ahead of himself on the way home).

"Y'know, sweetie, I have no complaints," Gil voices as he closes the distance and fixes his tie again. "But you could just ask."

She sighs as they turn towards each other to dance properly. He pulls her against him as her temper simmers itself dry. "I got the feeling she wasn't going to take no for an answer."

"Well, she would have had to," he assures her, even as they begin swaying to the music. She doesn't really know how to dance, but he takes the lead, holding her hip and her hand out in his. "Although watching my girlfriend grab me like that will probably haunt her for a while."

"Good," Thena mutters darkly, still off-put by the memory of her latching onto Gil's shoulders (like she has any right).

"Are you sure?" he whispers, still holding his head up if she wants more discretion. "If she doesn't have everyone knowing before we leave for the night then Eros certainly will. I wouldn't be surprised if he's crying to HR right now."

She does laugh faintly at the mental image of Eros snotting and whining like the little boy he is. "We're technically in different departments."

Gil chuckles, "guess you're right. But I'm asking you."

He's asking if she really wants to go public, or if she wants to deny their claims to the very end. Because he'll be with her, if she does, because of course he will.

Gil is receptive as she leans up to kiss him again. Maybe she can - somewhat! - understand what people see in the romance of it all. Swaying to music, Gil's arms around her, kissing him without a care in the world. There is something that makes the pleasure centres in her brain explode with euphoria.

"I'll take that as a yes," he smiles at her, even swaying a little more in his elation.

She tries to keep her head held high instead of shrinking away from the people observing them during their own dances. She clears her throat, pretending she can't feel how hot the tips of her ears are. "If it keeps her off of you, then yes."

He bends his head down, kissing the side of her neck. But it's not any invitation to mischief or show of dominance. He emerges again and kisses her on the forehead. "Can I tell those orderlies that check you out all the time that you're my girlfriend, now?"

She smiles, because it's Gil, and their relationship is no different now than it's been for the past several months. "You don't tell them I'm your wife?"

"Oh, I do," he answers instantly, and now she laughs. And sometimes when she laughs, she catches him looking at her in a way that makes all of her insides feel like jello. "But everyone knows you're my wife. Not everyone knows you're my girlfriend."

That is true. They were long ago anointed work husband and work wife. People are used to it, and it somewhat muddies the waters on what their relationship to each other actually is. And Thena will not be un-muddying them any time soon.

She moves Gil's arm more around her for herself, tucking herself into his chest in a way that makes moving more awkward instead of easier. But he folds around her comfortingly, happy to shift from foot to foot rather than really dance. "Then all the world can know I'm your partner."

She sighs as he presses a kiss to the top of her head, "I like the sound of that."

There's no going back from this. She always says that their personal lives have no place in the hospital. But she can't think about any of that, drowning in the endorphins this one man overtakes her brain with every time he smiles. And she has no one to blame but herself.

[non-un-topo]

My brain: Dude how many times can you possibly write about the queer quartet being dirt poor travellers getting involved in some nefarious shit that doesn't concern them?

Also my brain: The limit does not exist.

[gayghostrights]

thinking about one sided blind faith again

[cloud-ya]

I just saw your Mizu hunter OC, absolutely adore them. Are shape-shifting OCs common in Monster Hunter?

thank you! as far as I've seen, they're not common at all, usually you either have a fully human or fully monster (both feral or anthro) OCs

[wis-art]

i thought lesbians would think I'm an imposter or something because i have a boyfriend and i dont exactly look like a girl most of the time, turns out they love me and support me and what i do and appreciate my art.

[musubiki]

just for fun and unserious ask!! if you/your sona musu were put into the TCWG universe which role would you see yourself as? a mage, a witch, a regular NPC, etc :0

OH THIS IS SUCH A CUTE ASK!!!!!!!! i / my sona would definately be an npc cryptid.... i think she'd be an annoying traveler that always needs saving from dumb situations, or like that one guy in totk putting up signs everywhere, she'd just have the same puzzle minigame set up in like 1000 different locations

(with the cryptid aspect being that "musu" is actually the sentient musubi on her head and it controls some random girls body)

[iwonderwh0]

Androids having a belly button is honestly such a beautiful joke, I love it

[slugandthorn]

The coolest gender thing in the 2009 Japanese video game persona 3 100% how hard they coded shinjiro as the dead mom