#But also he's been gleefully swinging by death's door for the last year so I mean.

[kazeofthemagun]

Me:

Real life events:

[simpmeon]

Red: Companions

Pairing: Any Demon Brother x Gender Neutral MC, Diavolo x Gender Neutral MC Genre: Angst Word Count: 2k Rating: PG-13 Warnings: Cursing // Implied Smut

The Fall // Rebirth // Betrayal // Companions // Revenge 

His ability to charm all those he comes in contact with and how they all love him and all of them fell for the same lies he told you. You may have been the only one that those words may have been true to, but you didn’t care at this point. Every promise, every whispered affirmation, every touch he placed on your body was a lie. He was a liar and a cheater.

And you will have your revenge.

The masquerade was everything you expected it to be. You saw all the exchange students that followed you and each one left a more bitter taste in your mouth than the last. One seemed to be hanging off every brother, asking for the one you fell in love with and where he was. You could see the annoyance on their faces as they grabbed onto their arms and held their hands, begging for a dance. They were the one directly after you, a demonologist who dedicated most of their time to studying the demon brothers, both before and after the program. You could feel the disgust and anger waft off of them with every passing second. The one after the demonologist was a spoiled wizard who only saw their place as the new ruler of Devildom, only getting to the brothers to get closer to Diavolo. The third and fourth housemates were apparently twins that went down in different years. Those two did not not even bother showing up, citing fear of being eaten as their excuse, and the fifth housemate just strutted through the door, hickeys covering their exposed neck as they entered arm and arm with the demon you fell in love with. 

None of the brothers had really noticed your presence yet, but that was your own doing. Slinking between demons, hiding in the kitchen and hallways, standing behind Diavolo’s massive frame, anything to keep an eye on those fiery red locks and the other brothers. You wanted a dramatic reveal that you were not only a demon, but that you died with him being the last thing on your mind. You basically hung onto Diavolo all night, your composure eliciting praise from Diavolo.

Diavolo’s big speech was almost here, where he would introduce all of the exchange students that came before you, humans and angels alike. All of them were hanging out in a special room chatting away, but you mostly hung around on the outside of the room. Inside you could see Luke and Simeon, as well as Solomon, telling their stories of the first exchange program. 

“I heard the first person to live with the brothers was a descendant of Lilith! I must see if they match my sketch of Lilith!” The demonologist would squeal gleefully. Simeon would only laugh and go to describe Lilith in great detail from what he could remember. The demonologist ate up every word the angel breathed, ecstatic to meet one of the highest ranking angels in the entire Celestial Realm. Luke and Simeon have yet to mention the fact that they saw you fall to the Devildom, probably because you haven’t spoken to them since they last saw you on the pathway to the Celestial Realm. 

Poor Luke was still getting doted on by the angels and humans alike, his blush getting redder and redder with each head pet. Solomon was the only one who seemed to have noticed that you were behind the door, listening in and watching. You two would sneak glances at each other, almost conversing telepathically between each other. He was just as fed up with the other humans as you were which was refreshing to see. His eyes were glued especially on the one with fire red hair. No one really mentioned the fact that all the humans had a ring of some sort around their necks, all the humans giving some excuse of your old flame giving the rings as parting gifts to them so they would never forget their year in Devildom. You felt your body go rigid as they would talk about their times with the brothers and their times with your lover. 

EX-lover 

You had to remind yourself of that as you fiddled with the ring around your neck. Something that brought you immense comfort now brought nothing but pain to you. You had physically died twice in your life now, but the pain you felt whenever you would touch the ring was worse than any death. 

You felt someone’s hand on your shoulder, and your head snapped up to see Solomon looking at you with worry. The two of you walked further down the hall, away from all the commotion to be shrouded by the dim light of the candlelit hallways. You had been texting Solomon about your plan to reveal yourself at the masquerade, however he did express concern with the idea. Having not had the chance to speak face to face about the situation, he pulled you further down the hallways until you could barely hear the words from the room.

“Are you sure you want to do this? What if you lose control?” Solomon whispered, hand grabbing yours. 

“That’s what Diavolo is for and that’s what you’re about to be for.”  You replied with a chuckle. “If you make a pact with me you’d be able to get me to stop with a simple command, right?”

Solomon’s eyes shot open at that, completely in shock before relaxing with a smirk. “So. You’ve been a demon for a little less than a year and you want to make a pact with me?”

“If you don’t want to you don’t have to. I’ve known you for five years now…I agree that you’re a shady little shit but ….you’re my closest friend.” You said, squeezing his hand. “But I would like to make one with you one day.”

Solomon sighed and ran his free hand through his hair. “Listen Y/N, you’re powerful and would make an amazing pact mate considering you had all seven of the strongest demons I’ve ever known under your belt, but you’re not stable enough right now. Have you even been in your demon form tonight yet?”

“W-well. No. Dia wants it to be a surprise! And plus, if I was in my demon form heand the brothers would’ve saw me and so would Red over there and knew something would be up! It was easier to just maintain my normal form and slink around.” You explained, a light red tint on your cheeks.

Solomon smirked and let go of your hand to rest it on the wall, his free hand on his hip. “And what were you slinking around for?” He asked, amused.

You took a deep breath, blush tinting your cheeks at his playful tone. “I just wanted the rundown on those who came after me, and how they treated the boys. From what I’ve seen they’re all insufferable except for Red, but then again they showed up late so I couldn’t get a good read on them. They all seem to have no clue who I am.”

Solomon sighed again, now opting to lean against the wall with one leg and his arms crossed, although there was still that mischievous smile on his face. “That’s because the other students don’t know about you besides what they gathered themselves. I think the brother’s decided it would be best to not mention you and to stop comparing you to the other exchange students, for their sake. One of the few perks of having a twenty-four seven access point to this place is that you get to pick up on behaviors. For a whole month after you left Lucifer would grumble about how you were late with his coffee only to realize you weren’t there….Leviathan didn’t leave his room for three months….Belphegor slept in the attic more…even Satan began slipping back into his old habits of leaving books everywhere and untouched. I know Beelzebub stopped eating for a while and Mammon was almost never home, working constantly and then immediately spending the money….hell even Asmodeus stopped taking care of himself because you weren’t around. Do you know how annoying he can be sometimes? How many hours I spent cuddling him? Ugh, it was annoying.” He grumbled. “Don’t even get me started whenever Asmodeus would swing violently from being horny to being depressed.”

“Awww was someone tired of being the top?” You jested, poking his arm and giggling at the blush that took over his face. Getting Solomon embarrassed was such a delight because of how rare it happened.

“No! That’s not it at all! I’m just a very busy man.” He muttered, turning his face away from you to hide his blushing cheeks.

“Mhmm…of course you are wizard boy. Now go back into that room before Simeon goes searching.” You giggled, pushing Solomon gently, but he still managed to almost get slammed to the ground. The minute Simeon’s name left your lips, you frowned. How was Simeon? How was Luke? How were they handling the news…

“Why don’t you go in the parlor yourself?” Solomon asked, fixing his suit and tie, almost reading your mind. You pursed your lips together and gripped the ring that swung from your neck. Solomon picked up on the shift in your mood easily, once again standing closer to you. “Is it because of the exchange students?”

“They’re…..one of the reasons.” You answered, spinning the ring between your thumb and index finger. “Simeon and Luke were the ones to watch me fall…and I just don’t want them to know what I’ve become… not yet…”

“Oh…Simeon did mention that to me. He asked about you. Luke did too.”

“…What did you say?”

“That you became a demon. I didn’t tell them anything past that. Luke didn’t want to believe that, especially since they saw you on the way to the Celestial Realm. Simeon beats himself up almost everyday that he stood there and watched you fall from the heavens. Apparently Luke was practically beating him, yelling at him to save you with tears in his eyes. Simeon said he was crying too. They even went to Michael about asking God to save you, but by then you were already a demon and although you sinned as much as the next guy, the pacts with the brothers are what ultimately made them deny you passage.” He answered. 

“Oh…” You muttered, biting your lip. So they did know about you being a demon after all. That’s good at least, the shock won’t be too bad for them then.

“Having sex with them also didn’t help your case.” Solomon added with an evil smirk. 

Now you were a blushing, sputtering mess making Solomon laugh out loud. You pouted and crossed your arms, cheeks still a nice tint of pink. Solomon smiled and swung an arm around your shoulder so his laughter was right by your ear. He pressed a cheeky peck on your temple before flashing the peace sign and walking back into the parlor with the other students.

You watched him from around the corner as he entered back into the parlor, the warming glow of the candles casting orange light in the otherwise black hallways. You could smell the cinnamon and you could hear the laughter of all the students and part of you wishes you would have the courage to force yourself to walk in there, but you were too scared. Too scared of seeing Luke and Simeon and having their guilt take over them, too scared to see Red and to be bombarded by those who were just cheap replacements, not to mention the other angels who you’ve never met before. 

You sank down the wall, legs outstretched and arms crossed one over the other. You thought about the hickeys on their neck, how miserable he looked to be walking in with them, disguised with a smile. The way his brothers treated him like a stranger….how every exchange student under the same roof was enthralled by them. How cute for him to prevent them from entering the Celestial Realm and for leading them on because of his ways. His ability to charm all those he comes in contact with and how they all love him and all of them fell for the same lies he told you. You may have been the only one that those words may have been true to, but you didn’t care at this point. Every promise, every whispered affirmation, every touch he placed on your body was a lie. He was a liar and a cheater. 

And you will have your revenge.

[coreastories]

Mrs Jang’s Advice

Part One of Little Bean

This is how the kingdom and the people closest to them find out about the little bean.

Ties in with: 

Corea News: 10 Times The King and Queen of Corea made ahjummas ugly-cry over their royal romance

Corea News: Palace Announcement: WE HAVE A ROYAL BABY!

ALL Little Bean chapters come before:

Corea News: Love in the Royal Kitchen and succeeding Corea News pieces hinting at the Little Bean

ON AO3 for download and kudos :) 

Mrs Jang had three children. Her firstborn was a son, and he belonged to her husband. Her daughter soon followed, but she was too much like Mrs Jang in her independence and… bossiness that there really was no hope they’d be close because there couldn’t be two suns in one household. 

Ten years after her daughter was born, Mi-reuk arrived, an absolute surprise, and Mrs Jang finally had her own baby, and he hadn’t disappointed her so far. He was sweet and he was patient, and unlike her equally domineering daughter, Mi-reuk let her do what she pleased. 

As a reward to him, Mrs Jang tried to tone down her bossy qualities. But now her son was in the Royal Guard, the Queen’s appointed Unbreakable Sword to boot, so even though she restrained herself, Mrs Jang still ended up calling her son every day. 

Which wasn’t much, was it? He was her son. She should call him every day. 

 “Omma, I’m working.”

 Mrs Jang just smiled. Her son was such a sweetheart. “If you were really busy, you wouldn’t have answered the phone. Where’s Her Majesty?”

 “I can’t tell you that. But yeah I suppose I’m on a small break while I’m waiting for them.”

 “Them? You mean Their Majesties are together?”

 “Omma, stop it.”

 “Why do you sound so tired? Are you all right?”

 “I’m fine. It’s just been really crazy the past two weeks. It’s like the King has it in for me.”

 Mrs Jang said nothing. If she and Mi-reuk were together, she would have pouted in sympathy. As it was, she made a sympathetic noise, and hoped Mi-reuk wouldn’t be interrupted as the dam broke. 

 And break it did. 

 “I’ve opened the car door for Her Majesty a thousand times before and His Majesty hasn’t said a word about it. But every time I did it the past few days, the king would snap at me or glare at me like I’m about to hit the queen with the door.”

 “The king always opens the queen’s door, doesn’t he?”

 “Oh, I mean when they’re about to get in the car.” 

 “Well, where is the queen standing when you open the door for her?”

 “It’s not like I’ll ever hit her with the car door, will I?”

 “I hope you won't mind a tip from your old mother? When you open the car door for Her Majesty next time, stand in front of the door as you open it. Block it with your body.”

 “But why? Shouldn’t the queen have access to the car immediately as I open the door?”

 “Trust me, darling, block the swing of the car door with your body. You can simply step aside once it’s open so the queen can enter. Or have someone else do it, I suppose, so you aren’t distracted by something as trivial as opening the car door when you should be looking out for danger.” 

 “Omma. I have training. I can open the car door and watch out for Her Majesty at the same--”

 “That is what I just told you not to do. Watch where you swing that door, young man.”

 “I will. It’s not like I’d let anything and anyone bump her. And that’s another thing. His Majesty keeps shoving me lately.”

 Mrs Jang bit her lips hard against the laugh that almost erupted. Oh, it was wonderful. And this time she was going to be the soul of discretion and not breathe a word, even to Mi-reuk. 

 “Shoving you how?” Her son was a large person, so it wouldn’t surprise her if the king wanted Mi-reuk out of the way. 

 “Like today, for example. They got out of the car. Then we move into formation around them. I always stand by the queen’s side, but now the king keeps pushing me a bit farther. I feel like a door sometimes, the way he keeps shoving me.” 

 Mrs Jang did laugh then. “You’re a big man. You can take it. And watch that no one else bumps into the queen.”

 “That’s what the king said. Like that wasn’t what I’ve been doing this entire time! He’s driving me nuts.”

 “You just have to be patient. Young husbands can be protective like that.”

 “He also got mad at me last week when I gave the queen an electric blanket in their office.”

 “It’s summer.”

 “It was a little cold that day. And the office air conditioning can be cold. She said she was cold. I turned up the thermostat and I saw the blanket on the chaise. So I opened the blanket so the queen could place it on her lap and the king saw me and bit my head off.”

 “What did he say?”

 “He asked me what I thought I was doing. Then he didn’t let me answer. He just asked if I was planning to toast the queen to death. I wasn’t even planning to plug in the blanket.”

 Mrs Jang smiled ruefully. Her son sounded so wounded. Of course he would be, because he would die for the queen and the king was being a little touchy, wasn't he? All very correct, though. The king was a scientist, a mathematician. He would know what’s what. “Ahhh, Mi-reuk, you can’t let the queen get too hot, you know.”

 “Of course not.”

 “I mean it. Don’t let her stay out in the sun. Watch that she’s never exhausted from overheating.”

 “Of course, omma. I do look out for Her Majesty, you know. And she hasn’t come to the training grounds for two weeks. I doubt she has done any strenuous workout lately, not counting her walks with the king.” 

 Wow. Two weeks. So that would mean she could be four to six weeks along. “That’s good. Anything else bothering you?”

 “Ahh, I see Their Majesties now, omma. I’ll talk to you later.”

 “Remember what I said.” 

 Two weeks later, when the palace announced the happy news, Mrs Jang pretended to be shocked. 

 But when her neighbors started acting smug like they knew all along because of Queens Day and everything they’ve seen on how the king and queen acted, Mrs Jang couldn’t let that pass. Her lumbago had acted up on Queens Day, of all times, so she hadn’t been able to go. Because they didn't have a son in the Royal Guard, they rather gleefully rubbed it in that Mrs Jang hadn’t been able to witness the king and queen’s sweetness with her own eyes. 

 So she told them about how protective the king had been during the first weeks. He probably still was. Mrs Jang padded some details. 

 Like usual, no one else had the same information she did. 

 That shut them up. 

 -------------------------------------------------------------------

 I just adore Jangmi, you know that, and I wanted a different take on Gon stepping into a crazy puddle. So here it is. I hope you like? :)  

Next chapter: Lady Noh 

[justthehiddleswrites]

The Reluctants | Chapter 2 | The Reluctant Tenant

Pairing: Adam (OLLA) x OFC (Charlie Bock)

Summary:  Charlie can’t believe her luck when she lands an apartment all to herself in Quincy, Massachusetts in a decaying triple decker. But life gets more complicated when someone moves into the basement. Specifically her landlord, Adam, who also happens to be a vampire. As life collapses around Charlie, these two forge an uneasy and unlikely relationship. But is their relationship as doomed as the building they live in?

This Chapter:   Charlie discovered the true identity of the man living in the basement through unusual means.

Warnings: Violence, Smut, Frottage, Dry Humping, Teasing, Coming In Pants, Oral Sex, Vaginal Sex. Couch Sex. Kidnapping. Stalking. Non-Graphic Violence, Character Death

-

Charlie bounded out of bed that morning a half an hour before her alarm was set to go off. She hurried to the kitchen and slapped the coffee maker before popping a cinnamon raisin bagel in the toaster.

“Call on me, Call on me…” Charlie sang into her knife as she waited for the bagel to pop up ready to slather it with a generous amount of cookie butter. That ridiculous Eric Prydz song had wormed its way into her brain last night during her research. Now she couldn’t stop singing it. Or thrusting her hips.

As the coffee dripped and her bagel breakfast toasted, Charlie headed to the second bedroom. Or the room of requirement, as she called. She meant it to be her home office but instead stored all the bits and pieces of her life that had yet to find a place in her apartment. Charlie sighed and took a deep breath, twisting the brass knob and pushing the door inward. It stopped short about a third of the way. She slithered her way into the room to discover her collection of hockey sticks tumbled over, blocking the path of the door.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” she cursed mostly at herself as she righted the tub that housed the sticks. She surveyed the room, gingerly stepping around stacks of books and old stuffed animals crammed into banker boxes.

“I should sell all this on eBay.” she muttered while moving back issues of Real Simple and Martha Stewart Living Magazine.

Her Christmas present from her mother every year. Even though she never read them and would sooner read Guns and Ammo over that drivel. And Charlie never owned a gun. Just another way for her mother to comment on her inadequacies as a woman and a daughter.

“There you are.” She unearthed a pair of Bose stereo speakers. “Come here, my beauties.” She lifted them from their hiding spot, cradling them under her arm.

It took about an hour and two cups of coffee for Charlie to find the optimal spot to set up and then hook the speaker up to her phone. She laid the speakers face down against the floor at where she expected for Mr. Shelley’s living area. She adjusted the volume and clicked open the playlist she prepared last night.

“Let’s smoke you out, Mr. Shelley.” She pressed play on her phone.

Oh baby, baby

Oh baby, baby

Oh baby, baby, how was I supposed to know

That something wasn’t right here?

The speakers vibrated the floorboards, causing decades of dust and debris to sift up from between the cracks. Charlie’s nose scrunched up in disgust.

“Oh man, I walk barefoot in here.”

Her head snapped to the door as Britney continued to sing, expecting a knock at the door. But as Britney faded out and *NSYNC’s Bye Bye Bye, there was no knock. Not even when the Macarena clicked on. Charlie resisted the urge to stomp on the floor or yell. Anything for a sign of life. She shrugged her shoulders and headed to the kitchen to grab her dustpan and broom. The least she could do was clean the floors.

By the time the sun set that day, Charlie knew all the words of the entire Christina Aguilera catalog and all her books were organized by color and then alphabetized by title.

KNOCK!

She yelped and jumped in place when a solid knock hit her front door.

“About fucking time.” She picked herself off the floor where her record collection laid strewn about mid-collation and answered the door.

She had never seen such a beautiful face look so pissed off. Mr. Shelley’s striking features marred by what she could only describe as malice and murder.

“You look like Syd Barrett got caught in a lawnmower.” Charlie commented without thinking. Her thoughts often dropped onto her tongue like gumballs when she was nervous, and Mr. Shelley made her very nervous.

“Can you turn that fucking shit down?” He growled, his lips a tight line. “I haven’t fucking slept all day.”

Charlie smirked. “I just have a few questions…” He rolled his eyes and turned to head back to the basement. “I hope you like Disney!” She called out. He snapped around and leaned against the doorjamb.

“I’ll report you for noise violations.” He smiled back.

“Actually… Quincy city ordinances indicate that between the hours of 9 a.m. and 5 p.m. on weekends and holidays the decibel level shall not exceed 75dBA and then 65dBA after 5 p.m. That is slightly louder than a conversation and since you and I are conversing with ease. I think I am in the clear. Perhaps you should have soundproofed the basement before you moved in.” Charlie smirked.

“What are you, some kind of lawyer Ms…?” Mr. Shelley rubbed his temple, failing to will away the headache this conversation was creating.

“Bock. Charlie Bock.” She extended her hand. “Yes I am. I work at Legal Aid, Downtown. What do you do? Besides, own this home.”

He ignored her question. “Listen Ms. Bach.”

“Bock.” she corrected.

“That’s what I said, Bach.”

“No, Bock.” She clicked her tongue on the last syllable. “Hard ‘k’. Common mistake.”

“Fucking zombies.” he muttered.

Charlie pushed forward, ignoring the zombie remark, but cataloging it in her mind for later. She was wearing him down. “Listen, I just have some questions, agree to talk to me and the music stops. Plain and simple.”

“No.” he drawled, turning on the well-worn heel of his boots.

“Please?” she begged. He responded by shooting her the bird.

“Rude.” Charlie thought out loud as she shut the door. “Fine, you want to play, let’s play.”

-

Adam groaned as the music continued for most of the night after his run-in with Ms. Bock. As promised she switched from the 90s teenybopper trash to Disney and show tunes. He wasn’t sure what was worse, show tunes or the prospect of stepping into the sunlight and burning up. A tan sounded excellent right now.

Adam curled the pillow around his head to muffle the sounds of Julie Andrews gleefully singing for people to rot their teeth by ingesting sugar on its own rather in something sensible like tea. It didn’t work.

Matters were not helped by the fact he was hungry. He needed to drink, but he couldn’t with the infernal racket going on upstairs. Charlie Bock, the name sounded like someone ripped it from the pages of a noir detective pulp novel. Charlie Bock, private eye. More like Charlie Bock, bloody fucking annoying girl.

And why was she wanting to talk to him? He pondered pulling the pillow off his face and sat up on the edge of the bed. He never understood the zombies’ need to socialize with neighbors. Proximity did not equate familiarity. As Julie faded out and some song sung by a girl reporting that the “cold never bothered her, anyway” came on, Adam resigned himself to the uncomfortable task before him.

-

Charlie was ready to settle in for another night of reruns when another knock rang out from the door. She shuffled to find a robe to throw over her pajamas, flinging clothes around the room. Another knock and then the doorbell. Repeatedly.

“Is he fucking leaning on it?” Charlie groused as she padded to the door without a robe.

“I’m here.” she spat out, swinging the door wide. He leaned against the side of the house. If possible, his hair was even more mussed than before. The corners of her mouth twitched in satisfaction. “Ready to admit defeat?”

Adam rolled his eyes, arms crossed in front of his chest. His eyes narrowed towards her, piercing through her green eyes. His gaze dropped for a moment and he caught his tongue darting out of his mouth while staring at his bosom heaving. Her quickened breath gave away her fear. It hung in the air like stale perfume. Fuck, he was hungry.

Charlie shuffled her feet and tugged at the low scoop neckline of her top, doing little in the way of covering her assets. Her discomfort almost brought the slightest smile to Adam’s face. Almost.

“Tomorrow 8 p.m. Your place. Two questions.” He turned to leave.

“Ten questions.” Charlie countered.

“Three.”

“Eight. Ever heard Baby Shark?” She poised her finger over the phone screen.

“Six. Final offer.” He leaned towards her. Charlie acutely aware of his height in this moment.

“Fine.”

“Fine.” he snarled heading back down the porch steps and to the basement entrance.

“Can I at least get your real name?”

He disappeared around the corner. “Adam. That’s one!” he shouted into the night air.

Charlie shut the door. “Adam.” She had trouble falling asleep that night.

-

That night’s activities exhausted Adam, so he slept through the commotion of Charlie straightening up the apartment. Had he woken up, he would have been welcomed to the sounds of her doing two loads of dishes and rearranging both her kitchen and living room furniture.

“Oh fuuuuccck…” Charlie cursed as she yanked the armchair into yet another seating arrangement. She realized she cared what Adam thought of her home. A lot. “No… no… no… SHIT!” Charlie flopped in the armchair in disgust. At herself. For falling for her landlord.

“I don’t even like musicians.” she lied to herself, conveniently forgetting Mark, Tyler, and that guy from college who insisted on calling himself “Mick” after Mick Jagger even though his real name was Simon.

Charlie pushed the thoughts away when she grabbed her coat, keys and purse, heading out to pick up some drinks and snacks for later tonight.

-

Adam overslept the date, no appointment, with Charlie. He hadn’t needed to be anywhere at an appointed time in a century at least. So he didn’t set an alarm. Not that he had an alarm. Although looking back, Adam was certain he could have fashioned a suitable alarm clock from the bits and bobs of machinery in the cramped basement given the proper time and motivation.

But now time was at a premium. He needed to feed before heading upstairs. A mistake yesterday. Staring at Charlie in that ridiculous low cut top sent his body into a tailspin. If the conversation had gone on much more, she would have likely seen one of his fangs, threatening to make an appearance. He hated how his body couldn’t tell the difference between hunger of the flesh and hunger for blood, causing him problems more times than he cared to remember.

In his haste and quick movements, Adam tripped on the upturned corner of an ancient Turkish rug, the canister fell from his hands. With the cap already loosened on the canister, the blood formed a dark puddle on the ornate geometric pattern. He’d never get that stain out.

“Shit. Fuck!” A nearly full canister of the good shit, O-negative wasted. And to top it off, his supplier was indisposed for some time. He would have to figure out a way to make due with his remaining stash.

He grabbed an old towel from the unused bathroom and sopped up the mess as best he could. Adam gathered the now bloody towel along with other debris from the living area, cramming it into a paper bag as he exited the basement to toss all of it into the communal garbage cans leaning against the decaying siding. He didn’t notice the bloody towel fallen at his threshold when he stepped over it to get cleaned up, his mind on other things.

-

At fifteen past eight, Charlie stomped her foot and rose from the sunken futon.

“This is bullshit!” She marched out the front door. Charlie was already formulating her rant in her mind when she pounded on Adam’s door. She glanced down to find a towel stained red. Blood red. She picked it up and sniffed. Metallic.

Adam opened the door as he adjusted the collar on a charcoal gray silk button down. Their eyes locked. His an unnatural blue, Charlie’s a deep emerald green. And then Adam saw what was in her hand.

“Where d’you find that?”

“At your door. I KNEW IT!” she did a little dance in place, pulling the towel close to her. “You’re the fucking Mob or something! Oh, shit. I need to call the cops! You murdered someone!”

Charlie twirled in place like a top. She realized she was pressing the towel against her chest and threw it in the air in disgust. Adam with his supernatural speed grabbed the towel mid-air. Charlie stopped in her tracks, mouth agape.

“How did yo—” Her words cut short as Adam jerked her into the basement by her wrist.

The door slammed behind her and Adam released her wrist, walking away, huffing. This was not how tonight was supposed to go. He was supposed to answer some questions to appease her curiosity and then go on living their separate lives. And now Charlie stood in his home, his sanctum, smelling all kinds of… FUCK! he still hadn’t eaten.

“Listen, if you are planning to kill me, there are people who will—”

“No there aren’t.” An edge to his voice.

“I beg your pardon?” Charlie blinked before trailing after him. “I happen to have lots of…” Her voice trailed off. “Wow…”

Every square inch of the walls was covered in instruments hanging from hooks. Acoustic and electric guitars of all shapes and kinds. Several violins and a viola. Plus other stringed instruments she didn’t recognize. There was an upright bass in the corner behind a drum set. And a makeshift recording station in another corner.

“How in the hell? Who or what are you?” Charlie breathed the stale air of the basement as she continued to turn, taking everything in. How the hell did he even get all this down here without her knowing?, she thought. Her face pinched into a scowl. She stopped spinning and planted her feet facing Adam. “I’m waiting for answers.”

She placed a hand on one hip while the other one jutted out in a snap, causing her breasts to bounce. God, he needed a drink!

“It’s better I show you.” He left the room at a brisk walk. Charlie stepped to get a closer look at all the instruments. “Don’t touch anything!” He called out just as Charlie reached out to smooth her fingertips over the polished wood.

Like a child in a museum, she folded her hands behind her back. She walked the perimeter of the room, getting close but not touching. She could spy a fine layer of dust and dirt on tops of some, some looked freshly cleaned. Charlie winced when she recognized her stunt was the likely cause of the dust.

“I said no touching.” His lips pulled tight across his teeth.

Charlie waved her hands from behind her back. “You can’t touch with your eyes.”

“You can if you try hard enough.”

He placed a small crystal glass next to a tall metallic canister akin to a thermos. “Sit.” He barked like Charlie was a dog in desperate need of obedience training. In Adam’s mind, it wasn’t far from the truth. His mind wandered to all the ways in which he could break her. Make her whimper. His fangs made their presence known. He poured a small amount of the blood into the goblet and downed it. He had company. His fangs tinged pink as he fell back onto the wine red velveteen couch and for a moment he forgot everything except bliss.

After several moments, Charlie cleared her throat. Adam popped open one eye to find her sitting there, hands folding in her lap, making herself as small as she could.

“So…” she started, Adam popped open his other eye. “… you’re a vampire.”

He didn’t respond, instead rolling his eyes. He waited for reality to sink in and Charlie to go screaming into the night. Adam sighed and huffed, contemplating the fact he would need to move again. Packing up the recording equipment would be a bitch.

“Zombies. Shit.” Adam muttered under his breath.

“You’ve used that term before. Like…” She held her arms and moaned. “Brains… zombies?” It surprised him she was still here, her hands once again neatly folded in her lap. Like at church.

Adam huffed again. “That is about how humans act these days.”

Charlie crossed her arms and leaned back. “That’s an awfully pejorative term.”

“That’s the entire point.” His words sharp.

“Shouldn’t you use a nicer term for a being which you need to survive?” Her green eyes blinked, and Charlie remained unmoved.

“Shouldn’t you be running out of here in terror or disgust?” Adam snapped back.

Her nose scrunched up, and she shifted to face him. It was adorable. Adam hated adorable. And cute. And fluffy. The change in angle allowed Adam a view down Charlie’s sweater. A dark violet sweater with a deep v. All the blood he drank moved to a different part of his body. He stood to disguise his condition from Charlie.

“Are you saying that because I should be afraid of you or because you expect me to be afraid of you?” Her brows knitted together, marring her face.

“Is there a difference?”

“Yes, or else I wouldn’t have said it that way.” Her gaze followed him about the room. His torso twisted as though he was recoiling or hiding from her. “Communication is not your strong suit, is it?”

“I prefer to communicate by means other than words.” His long pale finger plucked a violin string. He didn’t elaborate on his comment.

“You haven’t answered my question.” She prodded.

“You’re awfully persistent for a zombie.” She winced at the word and Adam twinged for a moment with guilt.

“I’m a lawyer that is literally part of the job description.” She stood and smoothed down the sweater which Adam was now actively averting gaze from hoping to ward off the already painful erection or making a mess in his jeans. “Let’s try another tactic. I’ll answer your question first. No, I’m not running in fear or disgust. You are what you are and there is no changing that. And you have shown nothing but… well, I wouldn’t say kindness or respect…” She rambled, Adam shot daggers. “… but the fact is you have never tried to physically harm me. So you are okay in my book. For now.” There go those nerves again. Gumballs left and right.

She stuck out her hand, trembling. Despite her bold words, inside she was a puddle. Adam raked his eyes over her, searching for any sign of malice or guile only to find none. He took her hand and shook it. It surprised Charlie to find his skin warm.

“Thank you. Now if you excuse me, I have a precious amount of time left until sunrise.” He gestured towards the door.

“Apologies!!” Charlie startled.

She rushed to the front door, with him close behind. Too close. Adam collided with her as she turned for a final farewell, their chests colliding. She reached and steadying herself against him, her fingers burned as they skimmed across his chest exposed by his unbuttoned shirt. And Adam’s erection which had subsided came raging back. Adam shuffled back to keep it from pressing against Charlie.

“I also want to say sorry for the mess I made on your instruments. I didn’t know. And I want to invite you to use the interior stairs to the kitchen whenever you need to.”

Adam smirked, his confidence and swagger returning, or that could just be his cock talking. “Haven’t you seen the movies? It’s an awfully dangerous thing to invite a vampire into your home.” His eyes heavy, charm in full force.

“I have, but how else can I get to fix my bathtub?” She continued, unfazed. “It’s been leaking for a week.” Adam’s mouth fell open and Charlie disappeared from view.

Once she rounded the corner, Charlie took the stairs two at a time, her heart racing as she shut the heavy wooden front door. She ached in a place she shouldn’t ache when talking to her landlord. Her undead, brooding musician, hot as hell, vampire landlord.

“Fuck.” Charlie cursed, walking away.

Adam stood rooted, staring at his door, his body regaining control of itself. Did that go well? He wasn’t sure.

“Shit.” Adam walked away as that fucking violet sweater haunted his mind for the rest of the evening and in his dreams.

[holidaywishes]

the song part 4

Part IV: Pieces of the Puzzle

  Summary: After what happened, you head home and try to understand why Lydia and everyone was trying to convince you that you were something more than human.

  Fandom: Teen Wolf

  Warning: Nothing? Maybe some angst because I love some angst but I don’t think there’s anything to warn this time

  Author’s Note: I haven’t added to this in forever, so I thought it was time! To be completely honest, I had a very clear idea originally of where I wanted to go with this series but, because it’s been so long, I’ve lost my train of thought for that. Hopefully, some of it will come back to me but until then I’m just gonna follow my stream of consciousness...

  masterlist

  the other masterlist

xx

Calli’s P.O.V

  You truly weren’t sure what to believe. You could see that Scott and Theo were... something, but werewolves weren’t real. They couldn’t be. And the rest of it just seemed like a cruel joke. A harbinger of death? Who wants that? But you couldn’t deny that those men knew something about you, something that you didn’t and something that you were clearly reluctant to learn.

  “Calli...” Scott said as you walked ahead of him and Theo, not paying attention to them, “Calli please, listen to us. We’re not lying to you. Not about this...”

  “But you’re lying to me about other things?” you scoffed

  “No, I just meant we wouldn’t lie to you about this” he corrected

  “I.. I just need a break Scott,” you sighed, finally turning to face the two boys, “it’s been a long night and I have no idea what happened. So, please, just stop. If you really need to talk about it, maybe tomorrow. But for now, just... don’t.” You continued back to your Uncle’s house, where you were met with a large crowd of concerned faces before they all asked questions but instead of answering them, you just walked right past, barricading yourself in your room before turning to the internet for answers.

  “In Greek mythology, the Sirens were dangerous creatures, who lured nearby sailors with their enchanting music and singing voices to shipwreck on the rocky coast of their island.”

  “Knew that, thanks for nothing, Wikipedia” you whispered to yourself

  “Although they lured mariners, for the Greeks, the Sirens in their ‘meadow starred with flowers’ were not sea deities. Roman writers linked the Sirens more closely to the sea, as daughters of Phorcys.”

  “Alright here’s something...” you continued

  “When the Sirens were given a name of their own, they were considered the daughters of the river god Achelous, fathered upon Gaia; making them both daughters of the water and the earth.” An article read, soon leading you to other myths, one stated that sirens were called to bring Persephone back to their father and, when they failed, they were cursed. With all your searching, you couldn’t find a clear depiction of what a siren should be -- bird, mermaid, hypnotic, seductive, dangerous, cursed, -- but there was also nothing that made you believe that you could be one.

  “This is absurd!” you said to yourself, closing your laptop and pushing it away from you, “they’re insane. This are just myths. Stories, that’s it. I’m just me...” As you laid in your bed, you stared at your computer, picking it up and dropping it a few times while you contemplated looking through more stories.

  “Calli?” Lydia whispered as she opened the door, letting herself in.

  “Hey...” you whispered back and she sat down on the foot of your bed

  “How are you doing?” she asked

  “How am I doing...” you scoffed, “well, let’s see. I was just attacked by a group of guys who kept telling me they ‘knew what I was,’ after being told by my cousin, and her friends, that I was a Siren. A mythological ancient Greek creature. And that they were Werewolves and Chimeras and Banshees... So, I think it’s fair to say that I’m a bit confused”

  “Can I explain?” she said and you nodded, “I know it’s hard to believe that it’s all true but it is. When I found out that I was a Banshee, it was under duress. Jordan, too. Scott had things happen gradually, Malia was born that way and Theo.. well, Theo was an experiment.”

  “An experiment?” you asked

  “It’s a long story”

  “Well... I think I need to know. If I’m going to believe any of this, I think I need to hear all of it.” Lydia sighed loudly before explaining everything from then until now and you sat there in awe.

  “So.. hold on. Peter, the guy who terrified me enough to leave this house, was in a coma for like six years but he was able to bite Scott and make him a werewolf. Malia thinks she’s a coyote but knows that she’s not responsible for her mom’s death. There was some weird witch lady who was sacrificing people for some reason and she tried to kill you and that’s how you found out you were a Banshee. Then, your friend, Kira, who was a Kitsune but then like sacrificed herself, and Jordan, the cop who you’re saying is a hellhound, was set on fire so a different cop could collect a bounty that someone named the ‘Benefactor’ had set up before sending out a big list of names with passwords that only you could know. Then, there were a bunch of wild experiments by a bunch of doctors who basically killed a bunch of kids but those kids came back to life because of a tree? And you’re telling me that Theo was one of the first experiments that these doctors created because he was evil to begin with? And after all of this, after everyone somehow survived, there was like a mega Werewolf who killed a bunch of people and then people started to forget that other people existed?”

  “Essentially, yes. I mean, you’re a bit mixed up but you get the gist of everything” Lydia said

  “And in all of this, even though things seemed to have settled down after you all fought a mob or something, I’m supposed to be a Siren?” you asked again

  “Yes”

  “How? Why?”

  “It’s genetic I guess. My Grandma was a Banshee, Peter seems to think that, because both our power comes from our voice, there’s probably someone in your family that--”

  “Was also a Siren?” you interrupted and she nodded in response, “I don’t even know.. how to.. begin to understand this. What am I supposed to do with this?”

  “Nothing...” she confessed before hanging her head and sighing before explaining her point, “I’m not saying you are responsible for saving the world. I’m not saying that we’re responsible for saving the world either. We’re not superheroes. We just are what we are and we have abilities that other people don’t and it’s our job, our responsibility, to use our abilities to help when and however we can.”

  “What if I can’t?” you asked sincerely

  “Maybe you need someone to help you, like I did. I, all of us, had Scott to help us figure out everything. Maybe you need to be able to learn your abilities without judgement or fear. But you don’t have to do anything, I just needed to make sure you were safe. That you weren’t in danger the way I thought you were. Then we got here and found out what you were and I got worried that the reason I thought you were in trouble was because of what you we-- because of what you are.” She explained and you took a deep breath before responding, trying to think of exactly what you felt and how to say it

  “What if I did want to learn my abilities?” you asked quietly, “what if I did want help?”

  “Scott would be ha--”

  “Not Scott,” you interrupted her, “Theo.”

  “Theo?” she scoffed, “No. Why? Did you not hear the part where I said he was evil to begin with?”

  “Lydia, people can change.”

  “Not him...”

  “Please, Lydia...” you sighed

  “Fine. I’ll... ask.”

xx

Theo’s P.O.V

  When Lydia asked you to help train Calli, help her understand her abilities, you were confused to say the least

  “I don’t know the first thing about Sirens...” you said

  “I DO!” Peter exclaimed, raising his hand gleefully

  “She asked for you” Lydia confessed

  “She asked for me?”

  “That’s what I said” she sneered

  “She asked for him?” Peter asked, clearly offended by the choice

  “Yes!” Lydia yelled, “She’s trying to understand everything and you,” she said, gesturing to Peter, “didn’t give the best first impression...”

  “But I can help her the most” Peter whined

  “It doesn’t matter. She asked for Theo, so that’s who she gets”

  “What if I say no?” you countered

  “You don’t get to say no” she challenged

  “Lydia”

  “Theo,” she scoffed, “I’m not arguing with you about this. There’s something about you that makes her feel... safe or something. You’re going to help her. That’s it. End of discussion.” Just like that, you waited for Lydia’s cousin in an old worn down boxing gym in Brooklyn Heights; she walked in, late, with her ponytail swinging behind her and a bag casually dangling off her shoulder as she popped her hip to the side

  “You actually showed up” she scoffed

  “What?”

  “I was half expecting Lydia to fail and not be able to convince you to help me. I thought I’d be seeing Scott here...” She spoke with a bite to her words as she made her way to the ring, staring up at you for a minute before you eventually scoffed at her

  “Well,” you huffed, raising your arms up to gesture to the old gym and dropping them quickly, “I’m here.”

  “I’m not getting in that ring” she snarled

  “Then what are we doing here?”

  “It’s private.” She admitted, dropping her bag to the floor and sitting on a bench adjacent to the box where you stood, “no one will interrupt us or bother us here.” Your eyes darted to the door before your tongue pushed against the inside of your cheek, annoyed at her roundabout conversation, before you finally hopped through the ropes and jumped down onto the concrete floor

  “What do you want?” you asked, creeping slowly toward Calli and you stood in front of her as her eyes trailed up your body before her eyes met yours, “what do you want me here for? I can’t help you. I’m on the outside in case you didn’t realize...”

  “That’s exactly why I want you to help me. I’m new, you were the last to be accepted; you weren’t bitten or born with the abilities you have, you had to learn how to use them, how to control them.” She explained and you turned your head before shaking it

  “I can’t help you” you scoffed, dropping the gloves that you had been holding onto, before storming away

  “Please,” she whispered and you stopped dead in your tracks, compelled to stay just from the cadence of her voice, “I’m terrified.”

  “What do you have to be terrified of?” you asked, turning your head enough for her to see the side of your face

  “What don’t I have to be terrified of?” she confessed, causing your body to turn back to her, “I keep telling people that I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with this information -- that I’m a Siren. I looked Sirens up you know. They’re not as magical or mystical as people think they are. People were terrified of them and they lured people to their death. Lydia says that we have a responsibility to help people but how do I help people when my only ability is to lead innocent people to their death?”

  “You think that’s all you’d be doing?” you asked calmly, finally finding yourself sitting next to her

  “Isn’t it?” she asked, “Lydia predicts death. You all fight it. I.. I’m supposedly the cause of it”

  “You don’t have to be. You have an incredible ability to connect with people in a way that none of us do. The calmness of your voice calms them -- stops them from overreacting, lets them know everything is going to be okay.” You explained, watching as her eyes darted across your face as she moved closer to you

  “How do you know?” she said softly as she seemed to moved into your touch

  “Because all I’ve felt since I met you was calm...”

  “Even when you were fighting those men?”

  “Didn’t even phase me... I just wanted to protect you. That’s your power.” You said

  “But isn’t that dangerous? Isn’t that what makes me the cause of death -- that people want to protect me?”

  “I would rather die for you than let you be killed” you admitted

  “I don’t want that!” she exclaimed as she moved away from you, standing up quickly to pace behind the bench, “My life isn’t more important than yours or anyone else’s. I’m just a person, I’m just a girl. I don’t deserve to live more than you, more than anyone. If I’m going to die, then that’s just what will be. I cannot, and will not, let anyone sacrifice themselves for me”

  “Calli...” you tried to calm her as you met her at the end of her pacing, “You’re as innocent as anyone I’ve ever met. More innocent than I’ve ever been and you deserve to be saved”

  “Not more than someone else” she argued again

  “If it were up to me, you would be.” Your words seem to catch her off guard and she furrowed her brow at you, “I don’t know anything about your abilities. I don’t know what you think I can teach you. I can help you fight, help you train, but learn? All I’d be doing was reading books with you -- trust me, I know just as much about Sirens as you do. I don’t know what the right thing to do here is. What I do know is when I see you, everything makes sense. The world quiets down and I can see things clearly. When I hear you speak, it’s like my heartbeat finds your rhythm and matches it. When you sing, I don’t need anything else...”

  “You’re hypnotized...” she whispered as her eyes watched your lips as you spoke before eventually clearing her throat so she could continue, “I wanted your help, Theo, but I can’t do this. I can’t let you...”

  “Let me what?” you said, moving even closer to her until there was almost no space left, “let me help you protect yourself? Let me learn about your abilities as you do? Let me--”

  “Let you risk your life for mine...” she sighed, pushing you away, “Given the chance, I know that’s exactly what you’d do.” She kissed your cheek, picked up her bag and began walking away from you

  “Let me help you train, at least.” You said, stopping her from leaving to quickly, “let me help you protect yourself so that I don’t end up risking my life for yours.” You watched as she stopped sharply, turning around and tilting her head at you before scoffing and shaking her head

  “You think you can handle it?” she chuckled, “you think you can handle training me?”

  “I’m sure I’ll be just fine.” You smirked as she made her way back to you, whispering once she was right in front of you

  “Even though your heartbeat matches my voice?” she mocked as she repeated your words, “Even though everything makes sense when you see me? Even though you’re obviously hypnotized by me?”

  “You won’t be singing, so I think I can manage...” you laughed until she circled around you and leaned against your back to whisper in your ear

  “What if I have to talk really close?”

  “I...” you stammered, your voice cracking as you continued, “I can handle it.”

  “What if you have to get real close?” she asked, as she circled back in front of you and forced your eyes to train themselves on hers, “and you have no choice but to look into my eyes?”

  “Are you sure you can handle me?” you asked, turning the tables on her but she didn’t seem to react

  “You don’t think I can handle you?” she smirked, “I’ll be okay. You don’t worry me...”

  “No?” you smiled, “Good. I wouldn’t want anything to get in the way of your very important lessons”

  “If you think you can handle it, then I can handle it” she replied, still close enough to you that you could feel her breath sweep across your skin

  “I can handle it” you smirked knowingly and she nodded before turning on her heels again

  “I’ll see you tomorrow, Theo.” She smiled and you felt your stomach fill with butterflies, which you just hoped didn’t show on your face

  “Tomorrow,” you added, “be on time, okay? I hate wasting my time and you need as much help as you can get.”

  “Watch it, Experiment Boy,” she teased, “or I’ll have to hurt you.”

  “I’d like to see you try” you teased back

  “Tomorrow.”

[angelofthequeers]

Ladybug and Reine Nuit: Chapter 11

Antibug

Disclaimer: I don’t own ML.

@miraculousl4dybug @livinthebilife tagged as requested :)

Part 10 | Part 12

With Adrien officially no longer talking to Chloé, she seems to get ten times meaner in the following month. She’s rude to everyone, constantly criticising everything she can think of, and she treats Sabrina so appallingly that the poor girl now comes to school with bags under her eyes and a permanent defeated smile. Marinette’s heart aches for Sabrina, honestly.

Chloé’s also caused at least four akumas since Gamer had been defeated. Three are students from their school that she’d ruthlessly bullied, while the fourth is a little boy she’d gleefully picked on in the park. And now Ladybug and Reine Nuit are dealing with a fifth person akumatised because of Chloé: an elderly lady called Antiquator, dressed in a long white Edwardian dress, with primped, curly dark hair, short black gloves, lilac skin, and glowing violet eyes.

“How on earth does an old granny get akumatised?” Reine Nuit comments as she and Ladybug hide with Chloé, Sabrina, and Adrien in an empty store. Down the street, Antiquator is zapping people and things all around her, and anything she zaps turns into an antiquated version of itself. Cars turn into automobiles; streetlamps turn into old gas lights; and people are turned into versions of themselves that may have been around a hundred years ago or so. Nothing particularly harmful, but certainly annoying.

“No idea,” Chloé scoffs, clutching her broken arm to her chest.

“Chloé Bourgeois!” Antiquator howls. “Come out, my dear, so that I may teach you the manners that a rich young brat such as yourself should have learned years ago!”

“Of course,” Ladybug sighs. “Chloé, what did you do this time?”

“Nothing! And I’m offended that you’d think that of me, Ladybug!”

Ladybug raises an eyebrow. Chloé shifts.

“Well…”

“Chloé was in a hurry to get to her hair appointment, so she pushed the lady out of the way!” Sabrina says. “Then when the lady told her that she needed to learn some manners, Chloé just said that –”

“Are you actually serious, Sabrina?” Chloé stamps her foot and towers over Sabrina, who shivers and ducks behind Ladybug. “How dare you just spill everything like that, especially when Adrien’s filming it all? What, are you gonna tell her all your little secrets too? How you love to dress up as Reine Nuit? How you suck your thumb in your sleep –”

“Chloé!” Ladybug cuts Chloé off. “Stop it.”

“Why? She humiliated me!”

“By giving us the deets we need to figure out where Oldie’s akuma is?” Reine Nuit says. “I think it’s in her ring, by the way.”

“You should be nicer to your best friend, Chloé,” Ladybug says. “And to others. You’re not being a very nice person.”

“Excuse me?” Chloé hisses.

“…So, I’m just gonna go Cataclysm the ring,” Reine Nuit says slowly.

“Lucky Charm.” Ladybug catches the bottle of motor oil and tosses it to Reine Nuit. “Pour that under her feet.”

“You gotcha, angel bug.”

“How dare you treat your number one fan like this?” Chloé swells with rage. “After everything I’ve done for you, Ladybug!”

“If you were really my number one fan then you’d want to treat others with kindness,” Ladybug says firmly. “I don’t condone bullying, Chloé.”

“Bullying? I don’t bully people! I only respect those who are worthy of moi!”

“Chloé –”

“No!” Chloé clenches her fists, whimpering when she moves her broken arm in the process. “How could you do this to me, Ladybug? How could you just betray me like that? Just because everyone treats you like you’re God –”

“Here you go.” Reine Nuit pops back in and hands Ladybug the empty bottle of oil, then stands aside to let Ladybug step outside and purify the akuma.

“Miraculous Ladybug!”

Chloé doesn’t look any happier once her arm has been mended by the ladybugs. Instead, she just looks angrier.

“Perfect princess Ladybug,” Chloé hisses, her bright blue eyes glossy. “Everyone loves you because you’re such a goodie-two-shoes! Well, I don’t need your lecture! And I don’t need you!” She directs this last part at Sabrina, jabbing the redhead with her finger before flipping her ponytail and storming out.

“This is all my fault,” Sabrina mumbles. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“No, you should have.” Ladybug puts a hand on Sabrina’s shoulder, giving what she hopes is a reassuring smile. “It takes courage to stand up to your friends, Sabrina.”

“But now she’ll hate me!”

“Can’t you make friends with anyone else?” Reine Nuit says. “That whole Chloé thing doesn’t seem healthy.”

“I don’t want to! Chloé’s just had a tough life, okay?” Sabrina snaps. “It’s my job to be the best friend ever for her! And I totally ruined that!” She runs out, sobbing. Ladybug grimaces at Reine Nuit.

“That went well,” she says. Reine Nuit just shrugs.

“I dunno what you want me to say.”

Ladybug is prevented from replying by her earrings beeping. “Gotta go! Bug out!”

.

The next day, Chloé’s not at school, but Sabrina is, and so she’s forced to sit up the front alone with hunched shoulders.

“We should talk to her,” Marinette whispers to Alya as Ms Bustier does roll call. “She looks pretty miserable.”

“Probably just Chloé drama,” Alya says dismissively. “Not our business, girl.”

“But still…”

“Now, class –” Before Ms Bustier can say anything more, their classroom door is kicked open to reveal a familiar blonde ponytailed girl. But it’s not Chloé; at least, not normal Chloé, anyway. Instead, she’s wearing Ladybug’s suit and mask but in inverted colours: black with red spots.

“I’ll prove to all you losers that I’m better than Ladybug! I am Antibug!” Chloé declares. Her eyes narrow at Sabrina, who whimpers when she approaches. “Sabrina Raincomprix. Antibug doesn’t like traitors!” She giggles. “Hey, that’s something Ladybug would say!”

“Help!” Sabrina shrieks when she’s dragged out of her seat and slung over Antibug’s shoulder. With a mad laugh, Antibug shatters the classroom window with her yo-yo and swings out, taking Sabrina with her.

“Um…” Ms Bustier blinks. “Class is…cancelled for now. I need to go and tell Mr Damocles that one of my students was just…kidnapped by another.”

Marinette takes advantage of her classmates swarming out of the room to duck up the back, where she can’t be seen. As soon as the classroom door shuts, Tikki comes flying out.

“This is my fault, Tikki!” Marinette says. “If I hadn’t been so hard on Chloé –”

“You told Chloé exactly what she needed to hear, Marinette,” Tikki says firmly. “Her reaction is on her.”

“But now Sabrina’s in danger!”

“Then you’d better go save her!”

Marinette takes a deep breath. “You’re right. Tikki, spots on!” The transformation washes over her, warm and bright and full of life, leaving Ladybug in her place as the pink sparkles fade. When she bursts out of the classroom and rounds the corner down the hall, she nearly collides with Reine Nuit, who yelps and catches her to stop her from falling.

“Guess I swept you off your feet,” Reine Nuit grins. “Get it? Because I transformed in a supply closet? With brooms?”

“Ha, ha, very funny,” Ladybug says, rolling her eyes. “You know the situation, right?”

“Chloé Bourgeois is Antibug. And she kidnapped Sabrina,” Reine Nuit says. “I think the whole school heard that. Where would she have taken Sabrina?”

Ladybug chews her lip, then pulls out her yo-yo and swipes to the news channel to see if there’s any information there. Nadja’s face immediately appears on-screen.

“I’m Nadja Chamack! Don’t be bemused, it’s just the news! We’ve just received reports of a new akuma called Antibug, who appears to have a hostage at the Eiffel Tower!”

“Let’s go!” Ladybug says, flicking her yo-yo closed. She and Reine Nuit bound away through Paris towards the Eiffel Tower, where helicopters can already be seen even from this distance. When they arrive, they spot the news crew and police force on the ground. Up at the top of the Tower is Antibug, who has a sobbing Sabrina tied up tightly and dangling off the edge of the Tower, with the extra rope from her bonds wrapped around the tip several times to secure her.                                                            

“Release my daughter, Antibug!” Officer Roger orders through his megaphone. Ladybug and Reine Nuit take this chance to leap up to one of the viewing platforms to avoid being seen. “Or the strong arm of the law will come down hard on you!”

“Then why hasn’t it?” Antibug cackles. “Ladybug, Reine Nuit, you’d better come and save this poor little civilian quick smart! Or else she’ll be taking an impromptu lesson in bungee jumping!”

“I’m sorry, Chloé!” Sabrina howls. “Please don’t hurt me!”

“Oh, shut your pathetic hole already,” Antibug sighs. “I don’t know why I put up with it, honestly.”

Ladybug and Reine Nuit exchange a look. They need a plan. They can’t just go charging in there –

“I’m going to count to ten! And if you “heroes” aren’t in front of me and giving me your Miraculouses, a certain police officer is going to end up childless!”

– but they need to make a move before Antibug sends Sabrina hurtling to her death.

“One!”

“We need to focus on saving Sabrina,” Ladybug says. “We can’t do anything while Antibug can drop her. And she’ll be expecting one of us to play diversion while the other saves Sabrina.”

“Two!”

“What if we do let Antibug drop her, though?” Reine Nuit says with narrowed eyes.

“Three!”

“What? Are you crazy, Reine Nuit?”

“Four!”

“It might be the best way to free her, Ladybug. You can catch her with your yo-yo.”

“Five!”

“But what if she’s expecting us to do something like that?” Ladybug says. “She can’t be certain that we’re not hiding nearby, waiting for her to drop Sabrina so that we can save her.”

“Six!”

“You really think Chloé’s that smart?” Reine Nuit says.

“Seven!”

“She’s got Hawkmoth in her head now. We don’t know what he’s told her.”

“Eight!”

“We win either way,” Reine Nuit argues. “If she drops Sabrina, we catch her. And if she doesn’t drop Sabrina, we know that we need to be smarter about it.”

“Nine!”

“I hope you’re right,” Ladybug sighs. It’s too late now to come up with another plan anyway. “I don’t know how far my Miraculous Ladybug goes when healing stuff.”

“Ten!” Antibug giggles and goes silent. Ladybug and Reine Nuit tense near the edge of the platform, ready to spring into action, and Ladybug moves on autopilot when she hears Sabrina’s terrified scream. She swings out, ready to catch Sabrina…only to find that Antibug hadn’t actually dropped Sabrina, but rather had released the rope dangling Sabrina from the Tower just enough to create the illusion of letting the girl fall. Which would have made Sabrina scream. And Ladybug had fallen for it.

“Ladybug?” Reine Nuit hisses, still safely hidden. “What’s going on?”

“There you are, you little insect!” Antibug says, securing Sabrina’s tether again. “You would’ve actually let me drop Sabrina, wouldn’t you?”

“Like I was gonna let her actually crash,” Ladybug calls back. With the game up, she swings up to the top of the Tower to confront Antibug, with Reine Nuit right behind her. There’s no point in Reine Nuit staying hidden; no way will Antibug fall for the same trick twice.

“Help me, Ladybug and Reine Nuit!” Sabrina sniffles. Her eyes are red-rimmed behind her glasses and her cheeks are shining wet, and Ladybug’s heart breaks for her but she can’t figure out a way to free Sabrina yet, so she forces herself to give Sabrina what she hopes is a reassuring smile.

“Help me, Ladybug and Reine Nuit!” Antibug mimics in a shrill voice. “Give me your Miraculouses, or I’ll drop Sabrina for real this time!”

“You expect us to believe you after what you just pulled?” Reine Nuit says. Antibug rolls her eyes.

“You might not even have been here yet,” Antibug says. “That was just a way to flush you out if you were. And it worked.”

Reine Nuit curses under her breath, then leaps forward and charges at Antibug. Antibug easily dodges, deflecting attack after attack with her yo-yo, and Ladybug takes this chance to rush to where Sabrina’s rope is attached to the Tower and unravel it. She’s only got one shot at this. If she fails, Sabrina could end up splattered on the ground!

“Ladybug?” Sabrina whimpers when she jolts downward as Ladybug gets her tether free.

“You have to trust me, Sabrina,” Ladybug says. “I’ll get you down.”

“Hey!” Antibug finally notices what Ladybug is doing, and she snarls and bats Reine Nuit aside. “Don’t you dare –!”

“Go!” Reine Nuit shouts, dive-tackling Antibug. Making sure that she’s got a tight grip on Sabrina’s rope, Ladybug takes a dive off the edge of the Eiffel Tower and waits until she’s near one of the viewing platforms before throwing her yo-yo at it while swinging a shrieking Sabrina back up at the sky. Her split-second calculations pay off; her yo-yo arc is perfectly angled to catch Sabrina as she starts falling, and Ladybug wraps herself around Sabrina to protect her as they go rolling along the cool metal floor of the platform.

“Oh my god,” Ladybug gasps, pushing herself onto her back. “I can’t believe that worked.”

Sabrina just keeps crying. Ladybug hurries to sit up and untie Sabrina, who throws herself at Ladybug and hugs her so tightly that black spots dance before the hero’s eyes.

“Thankyouthankyouthankyou,” Sabrina sobs. “You saved my life – thank you –”

“Don’t thank me yet,” Ladybug chokes out. “Let’s get you back to your dad first.”

Sabrina nods and lets go of Ladybug, who gasps in air. “But what about Reine Nuit?”

“She’ll be fine…I hope. I have to trust that she can hold her own.” Ladybug wraps an arm around Sabrina’s waist, then uses her yo-yo to carefully swing back down to the ground. Sabrina lets go about a metre above the ground, landing with a sharp exhale before running to her father.

“Dad!”

“Sabrina!” Roger throws his megaphone away and wraps Sabrina in a bear hug, burying his face in her hair. The scene makes Ladybug smile briefly before she remembers that she’s currently in the middle of an akuma battle and her partner is fighting said akuma alone. She swings back up to the top of the Tower, just in time to instinctively catch Reine Nuit when Antibug sends her flying with a hard kick while her baton lies nearby.

“Whew!” Reine Nuit breathes when Ladybug sets her down. She dives to grab her baton and hefts it in front of her. “Nice timing, angel bug.”

“Where could her akuma be?” Ladybug says. She dodges Antibug’s yo-yo and hits back with an attack of her own, but Antibug dodges that in return. They’re too evenly matched, like mirrors!

“Not her earrings.” Reine Nuit points at a pile of black dust nearby. “I crushed ‘em but no akuma came out.”

“Stand still!” Antibug snarls when Ladybug leaps out of the way of another attack.

“Her yo-yo?” Ladybug says.

“Don’t think so,” Reine Nuit says. “She didn’t have it when she was akumatised, did she?”

“Hmm.” There’s one way that Ladybug can solve this problem. “Lucky Charm!”

“Anti-Charm!” Ah. Of course Antibug can summon her own Charm. And when she gets a massive sword, while Ladybug gets a pepper shaker, Ladybug ponders the best way to throttle a kwami after she turns back into Marinette.

“You know, the only reason I’m not totally freaking out right now is because I’m choosing to believe that you have a plan, buggy,” Reine Nuit says rather casually. Too casually, really. When Ladybug glances over, she sees that her partner’s bright green cat eyes are locked on Antibug’s giant sword.

“Give me a minute and I will, kitty.”

“A pepper shaker?” Antibug laughs. “Really? I guess this goes to show that I really am the better one of us, Ladybug!” She springs into action, swinging her sword at the heroes, and Ladybug and Reine Nuit yelp and leap out of the way. “Now, give me your Miraculouses!”

“Hurry up!” Reine Nuit demands. She extends her staff to propel her to the other side of the narrow platform, just before Antibug can slice her in two. But Antibug is there in a heartbeat, knocking aside Reine Nuit’s staff and cornering her against the Tower tip with the sword.

“You see?” Antibug’s eyes glimmer as she digs the sharp edge of her massive sword into Reine Nuit’s unprotected chin. “I don’t need you, Ladybug. I don’t need your lectures! I don’t need Sabrina! I’m the better one!”

“I wasn’t trying to lecture you, Chloé,” Ladybug says, holding her hands up to try and placate Antibug into not hurting Reine Nuit. Her stomach jolts at the sight of the thin line of scarlet welling against Reine Nuit’s dark skin under Antibug’s blade. Why can’t she come up with a plan? What on earth can she use the pepper for? “I was trying to offer you advice.”

“Advice? Ha! I don’t need your advice!”

“Well, Adrien’s not talking to you anymore, is he?” Ladybug says. “I thought that my advice would help you get him to talk to you again.”

“It’s not about – why should I have to change myself to make my friend like me again?”

“You shouldn’t have to change yourself,” Ladybug says soothingly. “No one dislikes you for being stubborn. Or headstrong. Or not sugary sweet. What people dislike is that you’re mean to them. That you threaten them to get your way, just like you blackmailed Mr Damocles into giving you Max’s spot.” Her earrings beep at that moment. What’s interesting is that Antibug’s black mask also beeps and flashes, then loses a red spot. Of course! The akuma must be in the sunglasses she wears, and it looks like they’ve turned into her mask!

“It’s not my fault that they can’t handle me!” Antibug shrieks and leans back to swing her sword through Reine Nuit’s throat. With this opening, Ladybug acts purely on instinct; she throws her yo-yo to catch Reine Nuit around the waist and pull her out of the way of the sword. Now that she knows where the akuma is, a plan suddenly hits her, involving the pepper, Reine Nuit, and the tip of the Eiffel Tower.

“I need you to distract her again!” Ladybug says, yo-yoing her partner’s staff back. Reine Nuit groans as she takes it.

“If that sword cuts me in half, you’re so Lucky Charming up a tube of glue to stick me back together,” she says, then leaps back into battle with Antibug. Ladybug throws her yo-yo to loop around Antibug’s ankle, then leaps up to feed it around the tip of the Tower, much like Antibug had done to Sabrina. Then she jumps back down to the platform.

“Take care of her mask when I say so! That’s where the akuma is!” Ladybug calls. Reine Nuit nods.

“Cataclysm!”

With everything in place, Ladybug waits until Antibug and Reine Nuit are closer before jumping and sprinkling pepper all over Antibug’s head. As predicted, Antibug descends into a sneezing fit and loses her grip on her sword, letting Ladybug yank on her yo-yo to haul Antibug up into the air by the ankle.

“Now!”

Whistling, Reine Nuit walks up to Antibug and swipes her sparking claws across the black and red mask, which crumbles into dust and releases the horrid purple akuma. Now that Antibug’s harmless, Ladybug lets her drop to the metal below their feet to free up her yo-yo.

“Good job, kitty,” Ladybug says, catching and purifying the akuma before throwing the pepper shaker in the air. “Miraculous Ladybug!”

After the healing ladybug stream fades away, Antibug melts away to reveal Chloé, who blinks and squints around at her surroundings. “Uh, what am I doing here?”

“Pound it!” Ladybug and Reine Nuit say. Chloé narrows her eyes at them.

“I was akumatised, wasn’t I?” she says. Ladybug looks at Reine Nuit and nods down at the ground. Taking the hint, Reine Nuit starts to bound down the Tower to take care of Sabrina.

“You were,” Ladybug says, kneeling next to Chloé. “I’m not going to apologise for what I said during Antiquator, Chloé. But I will apologise for not making more of an effort to check up on you and make sure you were doing okay afterwards.”

Chloé snorts. “I don’t need your pity,” she snarls. “I need Adrien back.”

“Then try to be nicer. The reason Adrien won’t talk to you is because then you can continue to be mean while still having him as a friend.”

“Whatever.”

“Chloé –”

“Just take me home!” Chloé snaps. “I don’t need you, Ladybug.”

Ladybug’s mouth downturns. “Well, I’m more than willing to be there for you if you ever need me again,” she says as she gathers Chloé in her arms. Chloé just ignores her. Although she can’t deny that she really dislikes Chloé, Ladybug can’t help but sympathetically wonder what’s going to happen from here on out.

[pkducklett]

“Roll For Initiative”-A Secret Satan Fic

Now Available On Ao3!

Hello @iceway145, I was your Secret Satan this year! I hope a game of Gargoyles and Gravel is a fun day off activity you were looking for. I also hope your holiday was the right amount of spookiness that tops off to a good rest of the year!

Characters: Miss Pauling, Scout, Engineer, Pyro, Heavy, Sniper, Demo, and Soldier.

Rating: General

Summary: Miss Pauling plays Game Master to the mercenaries through a haunted house in a fun game of Gargoyles and Gravel.

‘The fog clears as the wind rushes past you. With it every candle in the room is snuffed out with one single “Whoosh”’

“Oh crap? Is that bad?”

“We won’t know unless you shut up, Scout.”

‘It is pitch black. It is dead quiet. In the quiet, you can faintly hear scattering of claws from the lower floor. High pitched voices speak in hushed tones. Then! A flash a light manifests above your party! It hovers for a while before-’

“I’m sorry, Miss P, but what just happened?”

“Well, you are witnessing a floating orb that manifested above you guys.” Miss Pauling explained. She sat at the end of the table behind a cardboard screen propped up to cover her notes. Around the table were her players, seven of the nine mercenaries who agreed to test run her campaign. She had been pleasantly surprised that Engie and Demo already knew how to play, and helped in the disastrous character building process. She still couldn’t believe Scout had suggested playing a gun wielding bard. 

“Okay, but like. Is this somethin’ that’s suppose to happen?” Scout, the half-elf bard, had been asking questions like this all night.

“It’s Gargoyles and Gravel.” Engie, the dwarf cleric, was running low on his patience. “If she says it happens, then it does boy.”

“Mmmph!” Pyro, the half-devil sorcerer, gleefully clapped their hands.

“No, mate. I don’t think setting the orb on fire is a good idea.” Sniper, the wood elf ranger, tapped his pen on his character sheet. 

“Ms. Pauling.” Heavy, the half-orc barbarian, folded his hands and looked thoughtfully to her. “What do we know about this orb?”

She shuffled some papers behind her GM screen. “Uh, roll me an arcana check.” 

“Arcana is for what skill?”

“Intelligence.” Demo, the half-dragon paladin, replied. In one hand he held his 20 sided die, and in the other was his half drunk bottle of scrumpy. “Here, I’ll roll too.” He dropped his die to the table. “Well, I apparently dun believe in magic. That’s a 3 fer me.”

“Okay, what did you roll Heavy?” 

“I rolled 17. That is good, right?”

Demo leaned over, checking Heavy’s character sheet. “Be sure to add your modifier.” He whispered.

Heavy nodded. “Yes, of course, I rolled 18 then Ms. Pauling.”

‘As Malac looks up at the orb, he gets the sense that he’s seen this type of magic somewhere before. Perhaps back at the mines. An overwhelming sense of-’

“Wait! The mine’s is where we killed all those people” Scout once again interrupted. “And picked up Soldier.”

“Yes!” Soldier, the human fighter (who joined mid-session when Medic killed his in game character to go to the store and get beer), piped up with cheerful ignorance. 

“Yes, that is where we met Jane Doe.” Miss Pauling sighed. Why did she let Soldier name his character that? “Now if I can continue, please?”

‘An overwhelming sense of dread comes over you. As you all watch the orb, it floats over to the basement doorway. Illuminating a keyhole on the doorknob.’

“Oh, Snipes, ya still got the key we picked off the Doc’s corpse?” Engie snapped to attention. 

“Mmmph mmph.” 

“No, burning down the door ain’t gonna help us here, Firebug.”

Sniper looked down at his sheet. “Yeh. It’s right ‘ere. ‘Key with no master’.” He pointed to one specific line on his inventory list. 

“Well, try the door laddie.” Demo piped up before taking a swig of alcohol.

“Okay. I take the key, and I try to turn the lock with it.” Sniper emphasized his words with his hands. 

Miss Pauling rubbed her hands together. 

‘Ololar inserts the key and turns. The door swings out before him, revealing a dim stairwell.’

“Mmmph mmmmph!”

“No! We ain’t gonna use fire on this, Pyro!”

“Mmmph mph?” 

“Because we are in a wooden structure and we’d all burn to death!” Engie explained, aggravated. 

Pyro pointed to their character sheet “Mmmmph mmmph mmph.”

“Yes, I see the part that says you’re resistant to fire.” Engie pointed to his own sheet “But I am showing you the part that says my character is not! No fire, period.”

“Ladies please!” Scout snapped “Okay, so there’s stairs to the basement. The place we heard that’s cursed? And we’re just gonna go down there?”

“Pretty much laddie. I reckon we go down there if we wan the story to continue.”

“Pretty much, yeah.” Miss Pauling confirmed.

“Okay, just making sure.”

She turned her attention back to Sniper “You want to lead the party down the stairs, Sniper?”

After a quick glance at his sheet, he shook his head. “Not with my defense at 13, I don’t.” 

Soldier got up like he was about to speak. 

“Heavy will go first.” Heavy spoke before the other mercenary had the chance to.

“Okay Malac first, then-” 

Demo raised his hand. “Iorhazar”

Scout practically tripped on the table to get his hand up. “Riword”

Pyro held up their hand, and reaching over, high-fived Scout’s. “Morxes”

Engie gently pulled Pyro back to their seat. “Gramrak”

She pointed to Sniper, “You wanna go next or…” She got a nod in response. Making a few notes, she continued “Okay that means Jane will be bringing up the rear. Got that, Soldier?”

“Yes. I am going in the rear.”

“That means last, Soldier.”

“Yes. I am going in the last.”

“Moving on.” She held her gaze on the group.

‘As you walk down the stairs, you get the sense that you are being watched. It’s as if the house is alive and is tracking your steps. The creaks in the stairs are enough to put you on edge. You walk slowly. Slowly you reach the bottom of the stairs. There’s a door right at the bottom, it is old, and wet. It smells of mold and decay. The moldy door is slightly ajar. You can hear the faint murmur of high-pitched voices inside. Soldier, I mean, Jane recognizes their speech as the Goblin tongue.’

“Goblins? So what’re they sayin’ Soldier?” Demo asked encouragingly. 

“Uh, what are the Goblins saying Miss Pauling?” Soldier whispered.

“Only an ounce more blood and the ritual is complete.” She said in her best Goblin voice “No give it here, Leechnose, you’re doing it wrong. No! No!” she giggled imitating two Goblins fighting over something in a tug-of-war.

Soldier looked at her blankly. 

She coughed, composing herself. “That’s what they’re saying Soldier, you might want to let your party know what you heard.”

He turned to the rest of the mercenaries “What she said.”

“So they’re doing some sorta ritual?” Engie rubbed his hand over his chin. “Wonder what for?”

“Perhaps it is same as curse that killed doktor?” Heavy suggested. 

“What, the desire for more beer?” Scout asked.

“In game, Scout.” Engie put his forehead in his hand. “But that is a good point, Heav. What if the curse that killed Doc and the Goblin ritual are connected?”

“Then I would advise we continue cautiously, we don’t know what-” Sniper began.

“Miss Pauling, I kick down the door!” Soldier interrupted. 

“That is exactly what we shouldn’t be doin in this situation, man!” Scout shouted.

‘Jane pushes his way through the group and busts down the door. Inside he sees…’ 

She paused to roll some dice. 

‘Four Goblins. Two are standing closer to the door and the other two are back against the edge of the room. “Who in the nine hells is yous?” the larger of the two back Goblins screeches.’

Silence.

“He was talking to you, Soldier.” Miss Pauling whispered. 

“I am Soldier.”

“Your character, their talking to your character, Soldier.” Demo explained, taking another sip of scrumpy. 

“Oh.” Soldier replied sheepish. “I am Jane.”

‘“And what exactlys do you think yous is doing here?”’

“We are in this house because we are here to stop a curse that killed our friend.”

‘“We, huh?” the Goblin rubs his grubby little hands together. “So there’s more of you?”’

“Yes. I’m here with my friends.”

“Soldier don’t tell ‘em we’re here!” Scout said in a practically pleading tone. 

‘“Sniffles, Coughy, Flem!” He says as he picks up a wooden club. “Let’s get ‘em”’

“Everyone roll me initiative!” Miss Pauling clapped her hands together. She took a few moments to write down everyone’s rolls and roll for her Goblins behind the screen. “Scout, you’re first. What does Riword do?”

Scout stared blankly at his character sheet. “Uh, how ‘bout I take out my sword thingy and stab one of the Goblins with it?”

“Roll to hit.”

He plopped his die to the table. “God freakin dammit!”

“Yep, that there’s a crit fail.” Engie observed. 

‘Riword takes a step forward but a bug flies into his mouth. He chokes and collapses to the wet, decaying, floor.’

“Can I get up?” Scout asked. 

“Is it your turn?” Miss Pauling inquired.

“I don’t know, is it my turn still?”

“No.” She responded. “Heavy, Malac’s up next. What do you do?”

“Is Scout still choking?” Heavy asked calmly.

Miss Pauling rolled a die behind her screen. “Yes.”

“What? Really?!” Scout interjected. 

“Ok. Heavy would like to help teammate stop choking. What does Heavy roll?”

“Uh, medicine I guess.”

He rolled his die. “That is 7.”

“Please tell me that’s without your modifier man, I’m dying here!”

“Oh, right.” He glanced to his sheet. “That is 6.”

“What! How is your modifier making it lower?” Scout questioned.

“Heavy is barbarian. Heavy does not need wisdom.” 

‘Malac presses his hands on Riward’s stomach. He doesn’t appear to know what he’s doing. He presses once, and the bug flies out. He presses again, and the half-elf is gasping for air. He presses a third time, Riword has now passed out.’

“Dude, stop trying to help me!”

‘Malac stops after the third attempt.’

“That’s Heavy’s turn. Now it’s time for Leechnose’s turn, and he is targeting…” she rolled behind the screen. “Jane.”

“Yes Miss Pauling?” Soldier asked.

“Does a 15 hit your character?”

Soldier looked at his sheet confused. Demo peered over his shoulder and shook his head.

“Okay, Leechnose comes at your character and swings. He misses his first attack, and…” she rolled again. “Misses again, that was a 14. And now we’re on to Ololar. What does your character do, Sniper?”

“Same thing as last fight.” Sniper rolled a die. “I’m marking the furthest Goblin from me and shooting it with me shortbow. I rolled an 18, I assume that hits, yeah?”

She flipped some papers. “Yep. That hit. What was the damage?” 

He rolled another die “8 plus…” he rolled again. “…5, 13 total.”

“Okay, that was Coughy you hit and he isn’t dead, but is close.”

Sniper gave a thumbs up in response.

“Now it’s Morxes’ turn, Pyro.”

“Mmmph mmph!”

“Okay, Morxes’ casts firebolt. Roll to hit.”

Pryo rolled their die. 

“No freakin way, dude!” Scout exclaimed. “That’s your fourth 20 in a row!”

Pyro pointed to their sheet. 

“Twinned spell, that’s fine Pyro. Roll on the magic table if you would too.”

Pyro rolled another die, then pointed to a spot in the rule book.

Engie started to laugh. “That’s another three targets getting the 4d10 lightning damage.” 

“Un-freakin-believable.” Scout pressed his hands to his face.

Miss Pauling stared down at her notes. “Yeah, with a crit and the lightning, those Goblins are dead. Good job, uh, guys.” She rolled a die. “35 exp each.”

“How do you get so lucky at this stupid game?” Scout muttered to Pyro bitterly. He wrote his experience down. 

Pyro shrugged, rather smug.

‘As the final Goblin drops dead, from a combination of fire and lightning, the orb manifests above you guys again. It floats down to the end of the room. As it passes, it stops briefly above a pedestal before moving on. It is floating above-’

“Pedestal? What’s on the pedestal?” Scout asked.

“Everyone roll perception.” A few dice rolls later, she continued 

‘On the pedestal lies an amulet. It is very old and rusted. It is covered in blood, from the Goblin ritual. And Iorhazar,’ she nodded to the Demo who rolled highest ‘You have the feeling that this amulet is bad news.’

Demo nodded in response. “The amulet’s not important, laddies.” he said in character, “Let’s just move on to the-”

“Miss Pauling! I pick up the amulet!” Soldier interrupted. 

[esonetwork]

Timestamp #190: Human Nature & The Family of Blood

New Post has been published on https://esonetwork.com/timestamp-190-human-nature-the-family-of-blood/

Timestamp #190: Human Nature & The Family of Blood

Doctor Who: Human Nature Doctor Who: The Family of Blood (2 episodes, s03e08-e09, 2007)

  Martha Jones: The woman who waited.

The chase is on as the TARDIS door swings open and our heroes hit the deck before an energy beam slams into the console. The Doctor sets the TARDIS into motion but their enemy is following them courtesy of a stolen vortex manipulator. He tells Martha that, as long as they never saw her face, they can be safe. Their lives depend on a simple pocketwatch.

Dr. John Smith snaps awake from a nightmare as a maid named Martha delivers his breakfast. He tells her of a fanciful dream, one in which he is a time traveler named the Doctor. She reminds him that it is 1913 and that he is merely human. After he dresses, Dr. Smith goes about his lessons at Farringham School for the Boys as Martha works alongside fellow maid Jenny. Two unpleasant cadets sling not so subtle racism at Martha, but she dismisses it. Jenny notes that those boys may be running the country in a matter of years, but Martha quietly responds that they probably won’t. World War I is just on the horizon.

Dr. Smith later encounters Matron Joan Redfern, the school nurse, and they awkwardly hit it off. The encounter ends as Dr. Smith falls backward down the stairs. Matron Redfern tends to his injuries as Dr. Smith muses about his dreams and Martha tidies up. Smith talks about having two hearts – Redfern clinically dismisses that notion with a stethoscope – and shows the matron his Journal of Impossible Things. She’s wowed by his drawings and stories, but takes it anyway to read it later. She later discusses the mysterious doctor with Martha and emphasizes that she remember her place.

Later on, young Timothy Latimer is bullied by Hutchinson. The aggressor is irritated by Latimer’s knowledge of things he shouldn’t know, and Jeremy Baines defuses the situation by offering to fetch a beer from a secret stash in the woods. Martha and Jenny also share a drink outside the local pub – they’re not allowed inside due to their social status – as a green light flashes across the sky. Smith arrives and explains it away as a shooting star before retiring for the night. With Smith safely tucked away, Martha runs off to investigate, and Jenny tags along.

The light turns out to be a ship and Baines runs into it, quite literally. He’s able to get aboard just before Martha and Jenny arrive, and the ladies return home. Meanwhile, Baines talks with the ship’s occupants, the Family. He asks to see them but they refuse before attacking and taking his form. Baines returns to the dormitory without any beer, acting not quite like himself. The students call it a night while Latimer nervously polishes his boots.

The next morning, Martha checks in on the powered-down TARDIS while she remembers the events following their pursuit through time. The Doctor used a device known as the Chameleon Arch to become human, literally rewriting his DNA, and hide in 1913 to wait out the Family. He left her a set of twenty-three recorded instructions, including the last-resort directive to open the watch in an emergency. Martha tearfully wishes that he would return home.

Young Latimer visits Dr. Smith and finds the pocketwatch. He sees premonitions of what resides inside and takes the device, opening it and learning about Time Lords. Unfortunately, this alerts the Family to the Doctor’s presence. Baines (the Family’s Brother) telepathically calls back to the ship and orders the soldiers to be activated.

The soldiers take the form of scarecrows on a nearby farm. They assimilate Mr. Clark on the farm as the Family’s Father and Lucy Cartwright (a nearby girl in the wrong place at the wrong time) as the Family’s Daughter.

Smith is engaged in weapons training as Latimer deals with visions of the pending war. Latimer is dissuaded by the thought of killing African tribesmen with machine guns, and Hutchinson takes the opportunity to punish Latimer. Meanwhile, Redfern and Smith take a walk and talk about warfare. Smith saves a woman from death by falling piano with a cricket ball and a good arm. They walk the countryside and talk about Smith’s journal, and when they stop to fix one of the scarecrows, Smith talks about his childhood in Gallifrey, a place that he’s not quite sure about. Later that night, Smith and Redfern share a romantic moment that is interrupted by Martha, prompting his companion to seek solace in the TARDIS.

The Doctor didn’t leave instructions for what to do if he fell in love. Especially if it wasn’t with her.

Latimer has an encounter with the Family as the scarecrows assimilate Jenny as the new Mother. She returns to Martha’s side and learns some clues about the mysterious Doctor Smith, but Martha realizes that something is amiss. She runs to Smith, dodging the Mother’s laser fire, and discovers that the pocketwatch is missing. She fails to convince Smith of the truth, and after striking him, is dismissed from his service. She runs to the TARDIS (encountering Latimer en route) as the Family snoops about in Smith’s office.

Smith and Redfern attend a local dance as the Family track the schoolteacher down. Martha arrives with the Doctor’s sonic screwdriver and talks with Redfern, leaving the dancing duo speechless with the device from Smith’s dreams.

The Family arrives and vaporizes the doorman and the organizer of the party. They put the pieces together, but Smith still can’t recall anything. The Family wants a Time Lord, so they threaten Smith, Martha, and Redfern, but without the pocketwatch he is unable to do anything.

The standoff ends as Latimer cracks open the watch, distracting the Family. Martha takes the Mother’s weapon, forcing them to release Redfern and prompting Smith to evacuate the building. Martha is ambushed by a scarecrow but escapes. The Mother taps into Jenny’s memories and sends the Father to the west in search of whatever Martha walked to each day.

Smith rouses the school to defend against the Family’s invasion. The Sister gleefully sneaks inside to spy on the defense as Martha confronts Smith, urging him not to engage in violence. The headmaster demands an explanation but believes Smith and Redfern. Martha and Redfern search for the pocketwatch – Latimer listens to it as it whispers caution in his ear – as the headmaster and Mr. Phillips confront the Family outside the school’s gates. The Son taunts the headmaster with visions of the coming way, then sends him back inside for Smith after vaporizing Phillips.

The headmaster rallies his students, now his soldiers, to war. The Son does the same with his scarecrow army as the Father discovers the TARDIS.

Meanwhile, Martha baffles Redfern with her knowledge of medicine, something that a “girl of her color” shouldn’t know. Redfern leaves to tend to the students and plumbs the depth’s of Smith’s childhood history. She also plants the seed of pacifism in John Smith’s mind.

Latimer and Hutchinson share the younger boy’s visions of the future. Convinced that they survive the battle, Latimer runs but finds the Sister. He opens the pocketwatch and stuns the Sister with a vision of the Doctor at his most merciless, keying the Family into the need to find Latimer and the watch.

They begin the assault and the students mow down the scarecrow army with tears in their eyes, poignantly punctuated by the strains of “He Who Would Valiant Be.” The headmaster assesses the destruction – not a life was lost since they were all filled with straw – and is soon vaporized by the Sister. Smith orders a retreat as the Brother reanimates the scarecrow army and storms the school. Latimer distracts them again with the watch, saving his classmates from execution. The students and staff evacuate the school as the Father brings the TARDIS to the front doors.

Martha shows Smith the blue box and Redfern confirms what the schoolteacher wrote in his journal. Smith has a breakdown and runs into the woods, and Redfern offers them a place to hide as the Family spools up their next assault. The cottage belongs to the Cartwrights, whose daughter is now the Sister. The family is now dead. Latimer arrives soon after with the watch in hand, explaining that he was scared and that the watch asked him to wait. He’s seen the Doctor – “He’s like fire and ice and rage. He’s like the night and the storm in the heart of the sun. He’s ancient and forever. He burns at the center of time and can see the turn of the universe. And, he’s wonderful.” – but Smith refuses to take the watch.

The Family begins an assault on the village. Smith takes the watch, momentarily speaking in the Doctor’s voice, and listens in horror as Martha explains the plan. Smith doesn’t want to go but finds out that if the Family wins, they will be free to burn the universe. Redfern embraces the doctor, and together they share a vision of what could be if Smith remained: They marry, have children, and he dies happy.

But the Doctor could never have a life like that.

Moments later, Smith arrives at the Family’s ship and begs them to stop the bombardment. He offers them the watch and asks them to go, but the watch is empty. It was a ruse. The Doctor has returned, and he’s set their ship to self-destruct.

The Family and the Doctor escape from the ship in time. The Doctor, in his kindness, imprisons each member of the Family in a unique way for all eternity instead of executing them: The Father is wrapped in chains forged at the heart of a dwarf star; The Mother is enveloped in the event horizon of a collapsing galaxy; the Sister is trapped in every mirror in existence; and the Son is a scarecrow, protecting the fields of England.

They all get their wish in the end. They all get to live forever.

The Doctor returns to Redfern when all is said and done. The school is closed for the time being. He won’t change back for her, but he offers her the chance to travel with him. She declines since the wounds of loss are too deep. Especially since had the Doctor never come to her time, no one would have died.

The Doctor returns to the TARDIS and tells Martha that it’s time to move on. He thanks her for her sacrifice, and then together they bid farewell to Timothy Latimer. The Doctor gives Latimer the watch as a good luck charm before disappearing into time and space once more.

Years later, on the battlefield of World War I, Latimer checks his watch and tells Hutchinson that it is time. Latimer saves his former classmate from incoming fire, looks to the sky, and thanks the Doctor for his good luck. The Time Lord’s example continues to influence.

Farther into the future, a wheelchair-bound Latimer attends an Armistice Day ceremony and spots the Doctor and Martha, each wearing poppies. The silently acknowledge each other as the service continues.

  This is one of the deeper stories in Doctor Who lore.

First, by taking the hero and title character out of the mix, the show takes an opportunity to look over the mythology with reverence to the history of the show. The Journal of Impossible Things contains the basics (the former eight faces of the Doctor, the TARDIS, the console room, and the sonic screwdriver) along with specifics from across the Ninth and Tenth Doctor’s travels.

Second, it introduces a critical plot device of the biodata module. Carried in this story by the popular time travel trope of a pocketwatch (which we have seen before), it further plays with the ability to separate a Time Lord’s essence from his or her body, much as we saw with the Watcher at the Fourth Doctor’s regeneration. It also introduces the Chameleon Arch, which can literally rewrite a Time Lord’s DNA to any other form.

This brings up an interesting theoretical tangent: What of Susan? It will be definitively established in the future that Susan left Gallifrey with the First Doctor, and since off-worlders are generally prohibited on Gallifrey, we must assume that she’s at least Gallifreyan and potentially trained as a Time Lord. But the First Doctor was also comfortable leaving her behind on post-invasion Earth, circa 2164. Would he have left her behind, knowing that she could potentially regenerate in the presence of otherwise ignorant humans? Is it possible that he use the Chameleon Arch prior to their stop at 76 Totter’s Lane to change her into a less conspicuous human being?

We may never know, but it’s fun to speculate.

Third, I am quite impressed with Martha Jones. I mean, sure, she really wants the Doctor to love her, but her relationship with the Time Lord evidently goes much deeper than romantic love. She willingly sacrifices her mobility, her rights, and her freedom in order to save the Doctor and the universe at large. The amount of racism and discrimination levied toward her in this story is heartbreaking and far from acceptable, but Martha stands strong in the face of it. She withstands the assault on her character in service of the mission, her responsibility, and her love.

She does this because she loves the Doctor, but on a level (honestly, unbeknownst to her) far exceeding anything she ever expected. And the Doctor trusted that she could fulfill her mission.

Martha surpasses Rose with this story. She’s an independent, strong, and worthy companion, even if her emotions are a bit misguided.

Finally, in a beautiful nod to the origins of this franchise, the Doctor named his parents as Sydney and Verity. That statement was, in fact, true.

    Rating: 5/5 – “Fantastic!”

  UP NEXT – Doctor Who: Blink

  The Timestamps Project is an adventure through the televised universe of Doctor Who, story by story, from the beginning of the franchise. For more reviews like this one, please visit the project’s page at Creative Criticality.

[nickireadstfc]

The King’s Men, Chapter 10 – [Andreil Intensifies]

In which Mission Fix the Twinyards finally kicks off, Nicky values the important things in life (ice cream), Andreil have a Consent Talk, and oh, also the Foxes rule. Natch.

Sounds good? Then it’s time for Nicki to read The King’s Men.

After the game is before the game, so the team kicks off this chapter by sorting through the aforementioned applications for new recruits. This goes well by pretty much everyone but Kevin, whose Exy Elitism is making him kind of a little bitch.

             Kevin insisted Wymack put out a second request, to which Wymack demanded Kevin be a little more accepting of strikers who hadn’t been raised to be champions.

Exy-actly.

No offense, but chill, my man.

             Neil didn’t have the experience or insight to argue with Kevin, but he quietly clung to one of the choices he’d made and refused to let it go.

Okay, but do we ever find out who Neil recruited?

I need to know this for reasons.

REASONS.

             Abby stepped in when the argument got too loud and banished Wymack and Kevin to opposite ends of the locker room.

Bahahahahaha. Love me some good Fox mom moments.

In other news – Mission Fix the Twinyards has finally commenced!

Apparently, all is takes to get them to cooperate is to have them shout emotional murder confessions in each other’s faces. Who would have thought.

             “One of these days I want you to tell me how you roped Katelyn into it.”

             “I asked,” Neil said.

             “There goes that ‘asked’ thing again,” Matt said. “Does it mean something different where you come from?”

             “Most of the time, yes,” Neil said.

             The unexpected honesty startled a laugh from Matt.

Same.

Also, a laughing Matt is a wonderful Matt. In this household, we like all our Foxes laughing and happy, thank you very much.

However, of course, one counselling session isn’t enough to fix years and years of Twin Teen Trauma (even if it’s with Betsy and her magical cocoa powers), so the brothers still aren’t exactly BFFs, as the kids say.

             Wymack looked from one to the other. “Is this going to be an ongoing thing? I need tot know how to plan around you.”

             “No,” Andrew said.

             Aaron flicked him an irritated look. “Yes.”

BahAHAHA.

Wonderful.

In a rare occurrence, the Foxes get a night off, which everyone takes as an excuse to kick back and relax.

In Kevin and Neil’s case, this means marathoning Exy games and taking notes like fucking nerds.

Nicky, once again, manages to be my fictional voice in this universe:

             “It’s Friday night and this is how you’re entertaining yourselves? Give me a break! Think about something else for a while, would you? Like ice cream.”

SAME, MY DUDE.

Nicky, in a brave attempt to distract Neil’s nerdy ass (as we all know, all hope is lost on Kevin), tries to convince him to go to the store with him, which of course – works?

             Neil looked at Andrew and thought about Nicky’s worried appeal last fall, the warning that one day Exy wouldn’t be enough on its own. (…) Neil built his life around Exy after his mother dies because he needed something to live for, but Neil wasn’t alone anymore.

BITCH I’M CRYING.

I am SHOOKETH.

And all of this over ice cream.

The food of gods, my guys. The food of gods.

Also: Nicky apparently isn’t on Andrew’s insurance policy anymore and doesn’t have the keys to the new car either? Which means Andrew didn’t just give Neil permission to use his car, but gave it only to him?? What kind of gay FUCKERY????

I can’t believe I’m really out here having feelings about car policies. What the fuck has this book done to me.

Speaking of gay shit!

You thought we were done with a little angsty kissy-kissy on the rooftop?

SHIT NO.

THERE IS MORE.

             “Question,” Neil said, “when you said you don’t like being touched, is it because you don’t like it at all or because you don’t trust anyone else enough to let them touch you?”

HELL yes, this is what I am about.

Give me that sweet sweet consent talk.

             “It doesn’t matter to a man who doesn’t swing,” Andrew clarified.

             Neil shrugged. “I don’t because I’ve never been allowed to. The only thing I could think about growing up was surviving.”

Hell yeah again for Neil not having a Gay Freakout over this <33

Only like, a General Life Anxiety Freakout, but when does he ever not have that one.

             Maybe this was why this was in that gray area of what was acceptable. It didn’t matter that Andrew was a would-be sociopath or a man; the idea of Andrew was so intertwined with the idea of Neil’s safety that this too was a means of self-preservation.

That’s… kind of poetic, actually.

Damn, Josten.

             “I trust you.”

             “You shouln’t.”

             “Says the man who stopped.”

Ohhhhhhhh, you clever boy, you.

I LOVE this.

Please know that I am giggling gleefully, almost manically, during this entire exchange.

             “So are you completely off-limits or are there any safe zones?”

             “What are you hoping for, coordinates?”

             “I’m hoping to know where the lines are before I cross them,” Neil said, “but I’m open to drawing a map on you if you want to loan me a marker.”

Bless these boys and their sass at all times.

Also DID I MENTION HOW MUCH I LOVE THIS CONSENT TALK I DON’T THINK I DID.

Seriously, this is so, so important and so, so wonderful.

             “I’m still waiting for a yes or no I actually believe,” Andrew returned.

             “Yes.”

BITCH, YES.

             “It’s fine if you hate me,” Neil said.

             It was the truth, if a bit of an understatement. So long as Andrew was only physically attracted to Neil, this was safe to experiment with. Neil’s death wouldn’t be more than a faint inconvenience to Andrew.

My boy…

Yeah right. A faint inconvenience, my entire fucking ass.

             “Good,” Andrew said, “because I do [hate you].”

Again – yeah right, my entire fucking ass.

             “Stay,” Andrew said, and leaned down to kiss him.

And the next part I’m sparing you all because this is, frankly, unholy.

I want to quote everything.

I want to quote nothing, and let us all treasure the absolute gloriousness of the following makeout session in peace.

Because honestly – I read a lot, and I read a lot that has kissing in it, and this is still one of the best, most real, most heartfelt-without-being-tacky descriptions of kissing I’ve ever read. All the kudos to you, Nora.

I am way, way too invested in this pair by now. Holy shit.

All good gay things come to an end, though, and eventually Nicky comes back, diverting the good gay things with ice cream and horror movies.

But – our boys don’t quite walk away from their, ahem, encounter quite as unscathed as they’d like:

             Andrew had stayed by the door after letting Nicky in. Thinking that Andrew needed space and time to regroup the same way Neil did almost wrecked Neil’s attempts to get his neutral façade back together.

This is the most beautiful shit I’ve read all chapter, what the fuck.

Any time we see indicators of Andrew not being an Emotionless Void With Arm Bandages, I gain +5 years to my life expectancy.

Phew. We survived the gay shit once again, folks. What’s next?

Oh yeah.

SPORTSBALL.

More specifically, Neil and Kevin have an argument about whether to be a Technical Mastermind Player, The Very Best, Like No One Ever Was, or whether to be an Intuitive, Impulsive Heat Of The Moment Player, Because Fuck You Kevin.

Basically, Kevin wants to bone the perfect game, while Neil wants to bone the suspenseful game.

Oh, guys.

(Watch me revive year old memes at all times, watch me.)

In related Sportsball News – the Foxes have their first death match coming up!

And apparently they’re… Crushing it?

             When the Foxes hit the court February 9th, no one was expecting the fight they brought to it. (…) The sportscasters were shaking their heads in amazement.

             “I’m not entirely sure who we’re looking at now or what they did with last year’s Foxes, but they’ve completely blown me away.”

BITCH, ME TOO.

Also hah, we almost made it exactly to the date again – three days late, but this is still such a nice touch to be reading this in almost real time.

             “This is the kind of synchrony you’d expect from top-notch schools. A few weeks ago we all laughed when freshman Neil Josten said the Foxes were raring for a rematch with the Ravens. No one’s laughing now.”

Hell fucking YEAH for my children. I am such a proud soccer mom.

Exy mom. Whatever.

             The seniors exchanged a long look, exhausted and triumphant. (…) The girls came to Palmetto State University knowing it’d take work to salvage that sour reputation and knowing Wymack was their only ally. (…) Despite every loss and every roadblock, they’d made it, and now they were finally getting the nod they deserved.

Uhm, YOU GUYS IMMA CRY.

Honestly, this bit right there just got to me. These three fought so hard, wading through patriarchal bullshit every day of their lives and going on still, and now they finally fucking made it, and we get to see them as a unit, standing proud.

More love towards our Fox girls always, y’all.

TREASURE THEM WITH ME.

(Also, did I mention I’ll be cosplaying these three ladies with two friends of mine at a con here in Germany next month? With full jerseys? And did I mention I’m hella excited? And does that heighten my feelings over this bit hardcore right now??

Absolutely.)

Back to the death match – hey, remember last book when Andrew actually gave a shit about Exy for 0.2 seconds and pulled some really sweet stunts?

Apparently, our boy has decided to up his Giving A Shit game to 0.3 seconds now, because I manages to give Neil a goal shot by – hold on – making Nicky take a red card for fucking flooring a dude, taking the penalty shot, deflecting it like an absolute badass, and clearing the ball all the way up the long ass court.

Holy shit, my dude. Do I want to see what you’re like when you give 0.4 shits, or even one (1) entire shit?

Unbelievable.

Also, there is a description in there of Neil running “like his father was on his heels”, and if that isn’t the funniest, most unexpected bit of gallows humour I’ve seen in this chapter I don’t even know.

             [As the match went on] Andrew stopped every shot on goal and bounced a couple rebounds off the strikers’ helmets just to rile them further.

Andrew, I love you.

And of course, what happens as soon as Andrew moves so much as a little finger?

             The buzzer sounded on an eight-three win. They’d dominated their first death match and were on to round three for the first time ever.

HECK FUCKIN’ YEEAAAAAHHHHHH.

Sadly, even though he may give a tiny bit more of a shit on the court, as soon as the game is over Andrew is back to being his angsty self. Shame.

Petition for their final game to be the one that finally gets through to Andrew, please.

However, Nicky more than makes up for his mood.

             “Can you believe it?” he asked, amazed. “We are such hot shit sometimes!”

Nicky, never change. <3

When they go back to Wymack And Abby’s for a mandatory team celebration, there is another bit of Quality Nicky Content that had me in absolute hysterics:

             Matt commandeered the sound system in the other room. Nicky and Allison argued with all of his choices and each other, but they didn’t sound serious so Neil didn’t intervene.

I cannot, cannot stress how much I love this.

PARTY DJS NICKY AND ALLISON. GIVE ME THEM SWEET FANARTS NOW.

Brb, making a playlist instantly.

Neil, sadly, isn’t super hyped about choosing the latest bops, and goes in search of his boyfriend instead, who he finds sitting on a car gazing into nothingness – as one does when one is Gay, Angsty and Dramatic.

             “We won,” Neil said. (…) “Would it kill you to let something in?”

             “It almost did last time,” Andrew said.

YIKES.

Hope your foot tastes good, Neil, because you just put it real nicely in your mouth.

             “You sound like a wind-up doll with only one topic,” Andrew said. “I have nothing to say to you.”

             “If I talk about something else, will you talk to me?”

             Andrew quirked a brow at him. “Can you talk about something else?”

Oh, burn.

One last thing before we go –

             Halfway across the lawn his phone went off. Neil was annoyed enough to answer tonight’s “28” in his inbox with an “Enough”.

             No one responded.

Seriously guys, what the happ is fuckening.

If you like what I do here and you want me to continue writing fun things for you, why not buy me a coffee? Every lil bit helps, getting me through uni and all that jazz. Thanks so much!

[terreisa]

The Savior and The Scoundrel: Crash Into Me

Emma has had a few titles attributed to her in her life: princess, captain, pirate but none sat so heavily on her shoulders as Savior. When fate forces her to step into the role prophesied before her birth the only saving she wants to do is to bring back the man she loves. Fulfilling the Prophecy along the way is an additional reward. Sequel to A Crown and A Captain.

Prologue, Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4, Ch 5, Ch 6, Ch 7, Ch 8, Ch 9, Ch 10

ff.net, AO3

“She’s a marvel, isn’t she lass?”

Emma flicked her gaze to Killian for only a moment before it was drawn back to everything around her.  It was easier to let herself be awed by the speed at which the scenery whizzed by or the unnatural glow of the helm in front of them than to try and converse with the man beside her.

The car sounded like an animal, even from the inside, as it roared down the roadway.  In all the questions they’d asked Regina about the vessels none of them had thought to ask what it was like to travel in one.  Emma didn’t exactly understand what made it move but she could still sense that Killian handled it as well as he captained a ship.  It also seemed he hadn’t allowed the loss of his hand to hinder him in any way.  She didn’t dare observe him long enough to find out.

“Restored her myself,” Killian continued, a proud lilt to his voice. “Hard to find the parts for a ‘74 Firebird in the middle of nowhere Maine but the Jolly’s well worth it.  That’s what I named her, Jolly, from-”

“It’s a pirate ship,” Emma blurted out, amused despite herself.

The Jolly Roger was a famed ship in their realm but had been sunk by the Dark One over two hundred years before.  She looked over at Killian to see if there was any spark of recognition at all and found him beaming at her.

“Fan of Captain Hook are you?” He asked gleefully with an arch of his brow.  His hook tapped the helm sharply, “I hope you weren’t fooled by the waxed mustache and permed buffoon of the Disney ilk, lass.  The man Barrie described is a far more dashing rapscallion if I do say so myself.”

Emma hummed noncommittally as she once more looked out at the passing scenery.  She didn’t know what a disney or a perm was and suspected that Barrie was some kind of writer but she didn’t want to expose her ignorance by commenting about it.  The last thing she wanted was Killian thinking she was a simpleton.

“Now,” he said easily, breaking the heavy silence that had fallen between them, “Should I ask you about your seeming vendetta against Mayor Viridans or where you’ve been this past week?  How about that injured shoulder or how you found yourself in the company of the town pariah?  Or we could start easier and you can tell me where you’re from.”

“I’m from nowhere special,” she said with a huff, trying to quell the panic his questions had stirred.

“Well, that could mean one of two things: either you’re from a small somewhere that even I couldn’t find on a map or it’s exactly as you say, nowhere,” he said thoughtfully, hook tapping a disjointed rhythm on the helm. “Caught up in the system were you?  Would explain the ability to disappear and reappear as you do, your hesitance around me, might also explain some of your ire towards Viridans.”

“And you’ve figured me out so easily?” Emma grumbled, risking looking at him again.

“You’re something of an open book, lass,” he said with a careless shrug.

“Am I?” She asked, uneasily.

“Quite-” he flashed her a halfhearted grin. “You’ve got that look in your eye of someone that’s been left alone, orphaned.  Abandoned.  I know it well.”

“What about your brother?” Emma asked before she could stop herself.

Killian stiffened, his knuckles going white with the fierceness of his grip on the helm.  She hadn’t intended to bring up the brother he had mentioned to Robin but she was intensely curious how that part of his life had been changed.  It also served as a way to pull the focus away from herself for the time being.

“And here I thought I’d managed to avoid this conversation altogether,” he said with a forced laugh. The tapping of his hook became almost erratic, “It’s not an especially winsome tale, lass.  I’d hate to scare you off.”

“You won’t,” Emma said quietly, aching to touch him and soothe away the pain she could both see and hear.

“My brother was a stubborn ass who got himself killed because he crossed the wrong people,” Killian growled. “We weren’t close and at each other’s throats more often than not but he was blood.  I promised myself I’d bring his killers to justice one way or another.”

“Is that why you were upset with Archer?” Emma asked, remembering the animosity Killian had shown towards Robin.

“I have every right to be upset when the sheriff’s office is firmly in the pocket of the one who ordered my brother to be killed,” he spat out angrily, almost loud enough to drown out the roar of the car.

“What was his name?” She asked softly, taken aback by his rage but not afraid of it.

“Thomas, but everyone called him Tommy.”

Emma dug her nails into her thigh but kept any other physical reaction from showing.  It was awful enough that Zelena had stripped everything from him but that she had further twisted his already painful memories of Thompson’s death was too much.  She struggled to keep her breathing even, not wanting Killian to sense her distress and think that he was the cause.

“You may not have been close but I can tell that you loved him very much,” she murmured once she was certain her voice would remain steady.

“And it’s brought me nothing but misery,” Killian said gruffly.  He brought them to a rough stop and pointed out past her shoulder, “Granny’s Diner as requested.”

Looking out to where he pointed Emma saw a somewhat tall stone building with tables out front hedged in by a small green fence.  Through the large windows could see a few people sitting inside.  As she watched two people walked out and she caught a glimpse of even more people sitting at a bar top.  It looked similar to a tavern but much cleaner and without the rabble that was usually found in them.  She turned back to Killian and was somewhat shocked to see that he wasn’t watching her as he had been every other moment he had been free to.

“Are you- are you not joining me?”

He barely spared her a glance, “I never said that I would.”

“Oh.  Right.”

Emma could feel the heat of a blush at her assumption and the realization that she had stumbled upon a deep wound of his.  It only grew hotter as she realized she had no idea how to escape from the car.  She hesitantly reached toward one of the few metal attachments on the door when Killian’s arm reached across her and pulled at the one slightly above it.  The door clicked open and she could feel the cool morning air seeping in.

“Thank you,” she said embarrassed, pushing the door open further.

“These older models are a bit tricky,” Killian said with an odd tone.

She looked back and saw that he was watching her again.  He quickly turned forward, the corner of his mouth twitching towards a frown.

“I-” stopping short Emma shook her head and stepped out onto the walkway.  She bent down to look back into the car, “I guess I’ll be seeing you around, Jones.”

“Quite,” he said succinctly, his gaze focused ahead of him.

With a sigh she shut the door, stepping back quickly when he sent the car shooting forward almost immediately.  She watched him disappear around a corner with a squeal and silently berated herself for sticking her foot in her mouth, no matter how inadvertent it had been.  Her only hope was that he would seek her out again, if only to get the answers the questions that she had so far avoided answering.

The sound of tinkling bell had her turning back to the building where a couple was laughing together as they left.  Emma looked curiously at the impossibly bright, glowing signs proclaiming all manner of things but the one posted above the door clearly showed that despite Killian’s irritation at her he had brought her to the right place.  Gathering up her courage she walked under the words ‘Granny’s Diner’ and stepped up to let herself into the establishment.

She stopped just inside the door to take in her new surroundings when she realized several things at once: the smells of several different foods wafting together was nearly overwhelming, it was far too warm without a hearth or stove in sight, and nearly every person she saw was someone she recognized.  Two of the dwarves, Grumpy and Sleepy, were sitting at opposite ends of the bar, Little John was scowling over a bowl of porridge at a tiny two person table, her mother’s loyal knight Lancelot was sitting alone at a large table in the corner reading a book, and King Thomas and Princess Ella’s daughter Princess Charlotte was weaving between them all serving food and taking orders.  Then, pushing out of a swinging door leading to the back, Emma saw Red and had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from crying out or simply launching herself into her arms.

Red was wearing the same clothing as Charlotte was, severely shortened red pants and a crisp white buttoned shirt, but with a dark burgundy knitted sweater worn open over it.  Her lips were painted a red, not dissimilar to the pants she had on, her long brown hair was pulled back into a severe, twisted coil at the back of her head and there were red rimmed spectacles perched on her nose.  Altogether it made her appear as though she was trying to look youthful but maturity had snuck upon her anyway.

“Are you staying or are you going girly?  I ain’t paying the bill to heat up half of Main Street,” Red barked at her.

“Sorry,” Emma said meekly as she stepped fully into the room, aware that all eyes had turned to her.

“Sit wherever you like,” Charlotte said with a wave of her hand.  She leaned in and whispered conspiratorially, “Just not near Leroy, he’s a big crank when he hasn’t had his third cup of coffee yet.”

“I heard that, sister,” Grumpy growled, not looking up from his plate of rashers.

“See?” Charlotte giggled. “Go on, I’ll bring you a menu.”

Emma walked in a daze to a table near the back.  She eyed the fixed bench seats with apprehension before sitting on the side facing the door, not wanting to be caught by surprise by another familiar face.  Charlotte approached with an overly large shiny pamphlet in her hands just as she was trying to figure out what the stiff cushion at her back was made of with her elbow.

“We serve the whole menu all day if you’re not feeling in a breakfast-y food kind of mood.  We are out of the chicken fried steak until later so sorry ‘bout that,” Charlotte said as she placed the pamphlet in front of her. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“Uh-” Emma looked down at the pamphlet quickly and saw only amazingly realistic drawings of bizarre looking food drawn across it.  She balked and asked for something that nearly every tavern had for their morning patrons, “Tea?”

“Sure,” Charlotte said with a nod, “Iced or hot?”

“Er, hot?” she asked confused even further by the other option.

“Cool.  I’ll be back with that in a jiff.  Oh, my name’s Becca if you need anything!”

“Thank you,” Emma mumbled.

She surreptitiously glanced around the room and was relieved that no one was paying her any mind.  There were a few other people that she didn’t recognize, her gaze sliding over them as though they weren’t there at all.  As much as she tried not to she found herself watching Red as she moved to and fro behind the bar.  Gone was the lupine grace Emma had always envied and instead she was limping slightly, as though she was favoring one leg over the other.  Also missing was her ever present smile, replaced instead by a grim frown.

“Here ya’ go,” Charlotte said, blocking her view as she placed a mug of hot water, a small, open box of paper sachets and a saucer with two slices of lemon and a container of what looked to be honey in front of her. “Ready to order?”

Emma quickly looked down at the menu.  She was perplexed by the various offerings: things called burgers, lasagna, omelettes and the pictures were of no help.  Thinking back to what she’d seen Little John eating she was about to order a porridge for herself when someone slid onto the bench across from her.  Looking up she couldn’t help but scowl at the fact that Killian had once again caught her unawares, this time with a grin on his face.

“Two grilled cheese, fries for me and onion rings for her.  Didn’t order a drink for me lass?” Killian asked with a mock pout.  He winked at her before turning to Charlotte, his grin back in place, “A coffee for me, darling, and I want it from the pot crotchety ol’ Lucas makes for herself, not the swill she serves the rest of us.”

“Um, okay,” Charlotte mumbled looking wide-eyed and pale.

“Hook, stop terrorizing my waitress,” Red growled out from behind the bar, glaring at him.

“Apologies, Lady Lucas,” Killian drawled.

He casually draped his arms across the back of his bench, clearly sensing there was no bite behind Red’s bark.  Charlotte skittered away without another word.  Emma was left seething and Killian’s cavalier grin just angered her more.

“I can order for myself,” she hissed, leaning towards him so her voice wouldn’t carry.

“Undoubtedly,” he remarked with a shrug. “But I wager you were going to order something other than onion rings and I already told you they’re the best in the state.”

“You scared off the wai-waitress,” Emma said, stumbling over the unfamiliar word but letting her annoyance push her through any embarrassment.

“The girl could use a dose of fear now and then.  From what I understand she has a bit of a rebellious streak,” Killian whispered conspiratorially, dropping his arms to the table and leaning towards her. “I’d bet you had quite the rebellious streak yourself, lass.”

“You left,” she said instead of responding to his taunt.

“I-” Killian stopped short, his grin slipping off his face.  He sat back and blew out a breath, “Poor form that when you’re such a babe in the woods.”

“Excuse me!” Emma snapped indignantly

“Don’t misunderstand me lass and just listen to what I have to say for the moment.”

Emma gave him a terse nod and sat back as well, keeping a wary eye on him.  He seemed almost surprised she agreed so quickly as his eyes widened and he scratched at the back of his neck with his hook.  With the movement she realized that he wasn’t wearing his coat and wondered if perhaps she should take off hers as well.  Then she noticed that his right cuff was undone and his shirtsleeve was pushed back enough to show the dark markings of a tattoo, one that definitely hadn’t been there when he’d been taken from their realm.  She was staring at it curiously when he cleared his throat.

“How about a proposal, lass?”

She tried not to blush at his turn of phrase, steadying herself before answering with narrowed eyes.

“What?”

“An answer for an answer,” he said easily, his hook fiddling with the opposite sleeve.  He paused as Charlotte brought his coffee and then left them again, his eyes never leaving her, “You know I have questions for you and I’m sure you have some of your own.  I propose that we ask our respective questions but for every answer not given the other is afforded the same courtesy.  Sound fair?”

It sounded more than fair to her.  She was being given the opportunity to not only find out about his cursed life but to finally find out where his allegiances lied.  With her decision so quickly she set about making her tea to not seem so eager.  What she didn’t count on was trying to figure out exactly how to make her tea with the sachets instead of the loose leaf or bricks of tea she was used to.

“Need help?” Killian asked, laughter in his voice.

“I’ve got it,” she muttered as she picked one of the sachets up and cautiously peeled the paper open to reveal another smaller fine net sachet inside that held her tea.  She pulled the tea filled sachet out and dropped it in her still steaming mug, “I agree but on one condition.”

“And what’s that lass?”

She looked up at him and made sure to catch his gaze with her own, “If I think you’re lying we’re done.  Even if you think it’s for my own good.  Understand?”

“Completely.  The same goes for you as well.”

At that moment Charlotte returned with their meals.  She quickly set down the two plates of what looked like toasted, buttery breads with browned rings of some sort on hers and golden sticks on Killians.  Emma poked dubiously at the rings.

“It’s food, you eat it,” Killian said in the same odd tone he’d used when he’d let her out of his car.

“Obviously,” she said with a roll of her eyes, picking up the bread instead.  She was surprised to see melted cheese between the slices, “Do you want to ask first or should I?”

Killian contemplated her as she took her first bite.  She had to stop herself from taking a second, larger one as the flavors rolled over her tongue.  As it was she was already wondering if she could convince Grace to make it for supper later that night.

“Where are you from?”

Emma coughed, the question taking her off-guard as she was swallowing.  With watering eyes she took a small sip of her tea and tried in vain to come up with a reasonable answer.

“Somewhere far from here,” she finally answered honestly if not completely truthful.

“Not quite a lie but I’ll let it slide, lass,” he tsked.

“How long have you lived here?” She shot back.

“Nigh on 15 years.  Every time I planned my escape something kept me here like an anchor around my neck.  How did you get here?”

“A ship,” she said with a grin, happy to give him a truthful answer.  She took another bite of her bread and cheese and spoke around her mouthful, “And yes that’s where I’ve been staying.”

“Not fair, lass, now you’re a question up on me,” Killian said with an exaggerated frown, grabbing four of the sticks on his plate and eating them all at once.

“Should I go easy on you, then?”

Killian raised his brow before giving her a salacious grin, “I think you’ll find I prefer a challenge.  Go on lass, ask what you’d really like to know.”

Emma didn’t want to risk upsetting or offending him by asking the wrong thing but her mind kept circling around to the same two questions.  It was a matter between her heart or her head but she wanted to know about his wife and needed to know about his dealings with Zelena.  She absentmindedly ate two of the rings on her plate as she contemplated what to ask before realizing it was a cooked onion that she was eating.

“This is the best?  It’s onions!” She half whispered, not wanting Red to think she was criticizing the food.

“It’s an onion ring,” Killian said with an amused chuckle.  Then his smile faded, “I have a question, lass, but I won’t go out of turn.  Ask me yours.”

She dropped her eyes to her plate but quickly looked back up at him.  She needed to see his eyes when she asked her question.

“Who ordered your brother to be killed?”

Killian flinched but his gaze didn’t waver, “The same woman I stopped you from attacking the last time we met.  Mayor Viridans.”

“How are you planning on getting your revenge?” She asked cooly, even though she wanted nothing more than to jump up and crow that she had been right all along.

“By any means necessary,” he growled.  Then, somehow, he focused even more intently on her, “My turn, where are you from and why are you after Viridans?”

Emma winced harder than Killian had and found she couldn’t keep eye contact with him as she answered only one of his questions, “She took someone from me and she has to pay.”

“Then it appears we’re bound together in this endeavor, lass,” Killian said solemnly.  She looked up and found he was leaning towards her again, “If you’ll have me of course.”

“I-” she stopped short, swallowing thickly.

It was her chance to be near him, to help find himself again and she couldn’t believe she was hesitating.  Then she saw the hopeful, warm look in his eyes and she remembered the other questions she’d had.  The ones regarding his wife and their life together under the curse.  Yet she couldn’t bring herself to let him down, even if it meant putting shackles on her heart.

“I don’t want attention drawn to me or what we’re doing,” Emma said fiercely in a low voice. “That woman has taken nearly everything from me and won’t be satisfied until she takes it all.  Understand?”

“Perfectly,” Killian said with a nod, his eyes darting quickly around the room and then back to her.  He opened his mouth, then closed it before seeming to argue with himself for a moment and then asked, “Why won’t you tell me where you’re from?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I did-” she gave him what she knew was a heartbroken smile and focused on eating more of her food.

He eventually followed suit and they ate in silence.  Emma worried that she’d lost whatever ground she’d made with him as she sipped her tea sullenly.  With no magic whatsoever in the town she knew any mention of portals, curses, and different realms would have him thinking she was mad and could not be trusted.  She’d rather have him suspicious of her motives than not believing her at all.

“One day, lass, I’ll get you to trust me,” Killian said suddenly.

“You think I don’t trust you?  I promise you that I trust you,” Emma said vehemently.  She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, “There are things I can’t tell you now but I will, in time.  I just need you to trust me.”

She startled as she felt the warmth of his hand wrap around hers.  Opening her eyes she found him looking at her with a seriousness she had yet to see from him in his cursed life.

“I can’t explain it and I know we barely know each other but I do trust you.  I think I have from the moment you threw yourself at me down at the docks-” he squeezed her hand and she found it suddenly hard to breathe. “You can have your secrets for now.  I can be patient.”

“Thank you,” she breathed out unsteadily.  Casting about for anything to ease the tightness in her throat she once again noticed the ink stained onto Killian’s arm.  She flipped over his hand and tapped at his wrist, “What’s this?”

“A fairly recent acquisition,” he said with a gentle grin, as though sensing her need to change the subject.  He pushed his sleeve up with his hook to reveal what looked like stars arranged into a constellation she didn’t recognize along his entire forearm, “Got it on a drunken whim not long after I lost my hand.  Had no rhyme or reason for picking this constellation but I quite like it all the same.”

“What constellation is it?” She asked, barely able to keep herself from tracing the pattern the stars made.

“Cygnus-”

“The swan,” she said brokenly.

Emma felt her lower lip begin to tremble as tears gathered in her eyes.  She hastily pulled her hand out of Killian’s grasp and clenched her hands in her lap, focusing on them as she tried to get ahold of herself.  Even with his memories of her lost to the curse it was clear that some part of him still sought out a piece of her.  It took everything in her to not spill their story to him right then and there.

“What have you done to upset the girl Hook?”

Emma looked up and found Red standing at their table, glaring at Killian.  He was scowling right back but when he looked at her it was with concern in his eyes.

“He didn’t do anything,” Emma assured her.  Her eyes flit over Red as she tried to take in any changes their year apart had brought, “I, uh, was just reminded of something.  It had nothing to do with him.”

“I’d keep my distance from him if I were you,” Red warned, still glaring at Killian. “I can tell you’re new in town and probably haven’t heard that Hook here is the last person you should associate with.”

“Then I guess you haven’t heard that I’m here to help him find his brother’s murderer,” she snapped back, angry despite herself.  Red had been the one pushing her towards Killian in the first place and to hear her speaking so vehemently against him was too much to bear, “So unless you have something to tell me about that I think you should keep your opinions to yourself.”

Red trained her glare on her, nostrils flaring.  Emma glared right back.  She had spent her entire life at the receiving end of that glare for one reason or another and no longer quailed beneath it.  With a huff Red stalked away from their table leaving Emma smirking in her wake.

“I’m impressed!” Killian chuckled.  Looking at him she saw him smiling widely at her in awe, “There are few in this town who would stand up to Ruby Lucas and even fewer who would do it while sitting in her diner eating her food.  I’d wager you’re a bit of a rebel.”

“Pirate actually,” she mumbled under her breath all while grinning slightly at his praise.

“And seeing as how you’ve defended my honor the least I can do is offer to pay for your meal.  Of course it might also go towards making up for ordering for you in the first place.”

Killian’s brows lifted in amusement as he downed the rest of his coffee.  He produced a small, folding leather pouch from somewhere on his person and pulled out several green pieces of parchment, tossing them on the table.  Emma was left wondering how anyone could pay for things with something that looked as though it could easily be forged with some paint and ink when she realized Killian had gotten up from their table and was pulling his coat back on.  She stood as well, glancing around the room only to notice everyone turning quickly back to their meals or companions, acting as though they hadn’t been staring.  Only Charlotte and Red continued to watch them from their places behind the bar.

“Don’t go minding them now, lass,” Killian whispered from behind her. “Between your run in with the altruistic Archer and putting the gossipy Lucas in her place the whole town will have a measure on you.  Best keep up with appearances.”

Emma felt her stomach turn to lead.  She had broken nearly every promise she’d made when she’d proposed returning to shore.  There was almost no doubt that Zelena would not only hear about the commotion her and Regina had created at the docks but also the way she had back talked to Red when it seemed no one else had the gall to do so.  Her only hope was that she and Regina would be back on the Jewel before Zelena started sweeping through the town looking for her.

She let Killian lead her out the door and out on to the walkway, ignoring the feeling of being watched.  Trying not to give into paranoia she casually began walking in a direction she hoped lead away from the docks.  There weren’t many people out but she eyed them warily nonetheless, not knowing who would talk to whom about her movements through the town.  It was only a slight comfort to have Killian walking at her side.

“Why did she call you Hook?” Emma asked after a few moments.

“Ah, still going with the questions are we?” Killian said with a resigned smile. He brought his hook up, opening the pinchers twice before lowering it again, “A bit obvious that one.”

“No,” Emma chided, fixing him with a serious eye, “Why did she call you Hook?”

“I’m afraid that’s the answer you get for now, lass,” he answered, though not unkindly. “Consider it an equal for not telling me where you’re from.”

“Fair enough,” she said with a shrug.

“But that will have some answers for you.”

He nodded at something across the roadway.  Emma looked and saw a clocktower looming over the street.  She instantly knew it was the one Regina had said hadn’t moved until they’d arrived.  What she didn’t understand was why Killian thought it would give her answers.

“I don’t remember asking what time it was,” she quipped, crossing her arms looking pointedly at him and then back at the clock.

“It’s what’s underneath, lass,” Killian said with a roll of his eyes.

He strode across the roadway without waiting for her.  Emma caught up with him as he pulled open a door that was directly beneath the clock tower.  Stepping inside she found herself in a vestibule of sorts with a large metal door on one side, a waist high counter on the other and an open doorway directly ahead of her.  She could just make out what looked like shelves full of books when Killian let the door close behind him with a bang.

“Booth!  I’ve got something for you!”

From the depths of the other room a very familiar voice called back, “Dammit Hook you were supposed to be here two hours ago.  I can’t keep covering for you when-”

Pinocchio stepped into the room with several books under his arm looking cross when he stopped short at the sight of them.  His eyes widened and then narrowed as he took her in before crossing behind the counter and slamming the books down.  Emma for her part was beyond pleased to have found him so easily but schooled her features into a look of mild curiosity.

“I told you I’m done being set up by you,” Pinocchio grumbled.

“Ah, no,” Killian said quickly.  His ears turned red as he scratched at the back of his neck, “Eva here is looking for some answers.”

“Really?” Pinocchio said in disbelief.  He looked back at her with newfound appreciation, “Nice to meet you Eva.  I’m August, town librarian and amateur town historian, what can I help you with?”

“Uh, I guess anything you can tell me about the town to start?” she asked, looking helplessly at Killian, unprepared to talk to Pinocchio at such a moment’s notice.

“Particularly anything to do with how our overlord came into power,” Killian continued.  He leaned over the counter and started poking at a thin black box, “Perhaps you’ve a book or two about private detectives, true ones not your ridiculous pulp novels.  Let’s see, any county, state and federal laws concerning wrongful deaths, missing persons, and go ahead and throw in kidnapping for fun.  Also a copy of Peter Pan if you will.”

“Peter...” Pinocchio closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I thought I said I was done trying to help you with your goddamn crusade to pin Tommy’s death on Viridans, Hook.  You have no proof.”

“I have plenty of proof,” Killian growled.  He looked back at Emma for a moment and then took a deep breath as he faced Pinocchio again, “Eva’s here to help me finally prove it to everyone else.  The books, if you please.”

Pinocchio stared between the two of them, as though trying to read the truth in their eyes.  Finally he shrugged and motioned for them to follow him back the way he had entered the room.  Killian motioned for her to go before him with an encouraging nod.

As she entered the room that housed the library Emma had a thousand and one questions flying through her mind.  Unlike Red or Charlotte Pinocchio seemed to be a friend of sorts to Killian even though he too called him Hook.  He also moved with a quickness and ease she hadn’t seen from him since they were much younger.  It left her wondering at the encompassing power of the curse that it could completely mask his own personal curse and the pain it had constantly caused him.

The library was small, no more than twenty or so short rows of books.  A couple of large tables ran down the middle of the room separating one set of bookshelves from the other.  With a quick look down one of the rows Emma was shocked to see a surprising number of half filled or completely empty shelves.  She turned to make a comment about it to Killian but saw him running his fingers fondly across the spines of books on a small cart to his right.  It was a dizzying reminder of all the times she had found him idling away his hours reading in Sherwood Forest or trying to track him down in the immense ice library in Arendelle’s castle.

“Have a seat,” Pinocchio said, rapping one of the tables with his knuckles.

He darted off down a row leaving her with a chuckling Killian.

“How do you know him?” Emma asked as she sat.  It was one of the few questions that was relatively harmless to pose.

“Went to school together,” he said, shaking his head.  He gave her reassuring smile, “We didn’t really move in the same circles but Storybrooke High is small and it’s impossible not to know everyone in your class.  Don’t worry, you can trust him.”

“I know,” she said simply, reveling in the pleased look he gave in return.

“You know you can Google half this shit right?” Pinocchio grumbled as he strode out from a different row than he’d disappeared down with a few books already under his arm.

“Perhaps, but we prefer the hard stuff,” Killian said with a waggle of his eyebrows at her.

Both her and Pinocchio rolled their eyes at him.  A pang struck Emma as she remembered similar exchanges between the three of them back in their land.  Her melancholy was tempered however by the clear camaraderie Killian and Pinocchio had with each other.  If nothing else she was glad they’d had each other’s backs in some way under the curse.

Pinocchio set down the books he was holding and dashed away again, effectively preventing her emotions from getting the better of her.  She sat and pulled the pile of books towards her.  They appeared to be the books about the laws of the land and she wrinkled her nose at the dry sounding titles.  Killian snorted above her, clearly reading over her shoulder and being amused at her reaction to them.

“Not the most titillating of reads but I find it’s easier to get away with breaking the law when you know exactly which ones you’re breaking,” he boasted.  She looked up at him with narrowed eyes and he gave a shrug, “Come now lass, you know perfectly well you weren’t throwing your lot in with a saint.”

Emma wasn’t sure what a saint was but understood the general meaning behind the word.  She hummed something that wasn’t a complete acknowledgement that he was right and turned back to the books.  Killian chuckled and pulled out the chair next to her when a voice called out from the vestibule.

“Booth, come out of those dusty shelves!  I need a word!”

She was about to ask Killian who it was when things started moving faster than she could keep up with.  Pinocchio came running out of the stacks, haphazardly dropping all the books in his hand but one on the table before walking quickly but calmly towards the vestibule flapping his free hand at them from behind his back.  Killian had grabbed her arm in a vice-like grip when Pinocchio had run by and he was frantically tugging at her to get her attention.  When she looked at him she saw his jaw ticking in agitation and a fire in his eyes.

“I don’t have time to explain but I can’t be seen anywhere near here,” he said quickly and in a low voice that wouldn’t carry, “I trust August with my life, he’ll look after you.  You’ll be okay.”

Before she could utter a sound he snuck away leaving her behind, stunned and confused.  With a huff of annoyance she stood from the table and as quietly as she could she crossed back to the open doorway, keeping care to stay out of sight.

“-just couldn’t find money in the budget for a new computer.  Maybe you should focus on getting more donations next year instead.”

Emma recognized the voice as the one belonging to the man Walsh that had been at Regina’s cottage.  She pressed herself closer to the wall and listened all the more carefully.

“How magnanimous of you Sheriff to come down here to tell me this instead of having the budget committee give me a call or even send an email.  Which they did, after their meeting, yesterday.  Unless of course you’re here to do more than deliver a message I’ve already received.  Come to check on things?  Burn some books perhaps?”

To anybody that didn’t know him Pinocchio sounded as though he were merely annoyed, his tone mocking but Emma knew better.  They had been friends for all of her life and she could hear the scalding fury beneath his words.  She marvelled at how quickly Walsh had been able to strike a nerve in only the few minutes he had been talking to Pinocchio.

“As long as you aren’t checking out any of the books on the school district’s banned list to the students again you should be fine,” Walsh intoned blandly. “I just came here to let you know about the budget.”

She heard what sounded like a double tap of a hand on wood and hard-heeled footsteps walking away from her position.  Then they stopped.

“By the way, you haven’t happened to come across any visitors have you?”

“Visitors?” Pinocchio said so flatly it was barely a question.

“Yes, anyone saying they’re from out of town or-” Emma could hear the footsteps begin again, walking slowly toward her, “-someone you’ve never seen before.  Strangers if you will.”

“Why would they come here?  The Visitor’s Center is at City Hall.”

Pinocchio’s voice sounded too calm, almost rehearsed.  She cursed under her breath at the chances that even with different life in his head he still couldn’t lie.

“A library is a place to gather information, is it not?”

Walsh’s voice was close, too close.  Emma held her breath and hoped he wouldn’t take another step.

“Maybe ten years ago,” Pinocchio said drolly, but much less wooden. “Everyone has a phone to look up all that crap now.  The only people who come here are the old folks from Sunset Storybrooke and they’re not coming back until next week.”

“And you want a new computer?” Walsh’s voice became just the slightest bit quieter and Emma hoped he had turned back towards the door leading out. “Now I can see why the budget committee keeps denying you the funds.  If you see anyone you’ll let me know?”

“Oh, of course,” Pinocchio said snarkily.

The footsteps started up again, leading away from her hiding spot, “By the way the school board voted in favor of expanding the banned book list.  You’ll find that one right at the top.”

The sound of the front door opening and closing had her noisily releasing the breath she’d been holding.  Her head swam as black spots danced before her eyes.  When her vision cleared Pinocchio was standing in front of her frowning slightly.

“Am I going to end up in jail because of you?”

“Not if I can help it,” she promised, looking him in the eye to show how serious she was.

“Well then-” he sighed, rocking back on his heels, “I guess that’s as good as it’ll get.  Here, I guess it won’t matter if this isn’t on the shelves for a while.”

He handed her a book before brushing past her back into the library.  She watched him go, aching to talk to him as she had all her life about everything that had happened and everything that was happening.  Instead she sighed sadly and looked at the book in her hands.

It appeared to be a book meant for children, the illustration on the cover was colorful and it didn’t have an overabundance of pages.  The title was written with fake gold leaf on an equally fake leather cover.  Turning it over in her hands she was at a loss as to why Killian wanted her to read a book titled Peter and Wendy.  Returning to the table the books Pinocchio had retrieved for her she resolved to ask him as much.  Whenever their paths happened to cross again that was.

If you’d like to be tagged so you don’t miss future chapters let me know.

Tagging: @teamhook, @galadriel26

[writtenwordsoffic]

In your head

Pairing: Jughead Jones x Reader

Summary: You are almost 3 months into a relationship with Jughead Jones. You are going through a tough time being too much in your head as the anniversary of “that night” comes closer. Jughead can sense something is wrong.

Warnings: Features sexual content, as well as a rape flashback and parental abuse. Please don’t read if easily triggered.

*heavy breath* You looked at the door to your right and tried to grab the handle. He pushed you down even further. You tried to kick him but he was just so much bigger than you. You started to freeze and let out a yell….you woke up. 

Startled by your nightmare, you woke straight up from your bed. Holding your head, you wiped the sweat from your brow. You finally looked to your alarm that was still blaring from your phone. You slid the clock icon off and took a deep breath. You saw the date, November 1st. You decided to just try and start your day like any other and headed towards the shower. When you came out, your phone was chiming again. This time your other alarm was making sound. You slid the icon again, and turned going towards your dresser. Grabbing the medical bottle, once again reading the instructions of taking “one tablet daily”, you paused and sighed. 

Today you needed this more than usual. Getting off the bus, still having your nose in your novel, you looked up and saw the best smile you ever laid your eyes on. 

 “Hey sweetheart”, Jughead leaned in giving you a peck on your forehead. “So what book have you started now?” 

“Sense and Sensibility. I felt like some classic literature. How was the rest of your night?” 

“Not as good without you”, Jughead said coyly while walking next to you toward your locker. While grabbing your math book you heard a familiar sound of heels thumping your way. 

“Hey Y/N! Hey Juggs!” 

“Hey Veronica” Jughead welcomed while you gave a nod. 

“Want to walk to class?” V asked with a look towards you. 

“Yeah, sure. Let me just grab the rest of my stuff real quick”. It still surprised you how nice Veronica was to you. She was rather the opposite of you. She herself was a light of confidence, very sure of herself. Veronica seemed to have most things together despite what happened with her father that summer. But you welcomed the friendship as it was only a year prior that you were the new girl yourself. And while she didn’t know why, you also had a shared disdain for Chuck. Granted, Chuck wasn’t rather nice to anyone. Because of Veronica at least, women of the high school knew more of who he was now. 

Jughead gently grasped the side of your shirt and you grabbed his neck giving him a quick kiss goodbye as he was heading in the other direction. “See you at lunch?”, he asked while giving you a slight eyebrow and smirk. 

“Of course!” It still felt like a dream having a guy like Jughead in your life. Without knowing everything, he understood your personality and didn’t find your interests weird. Your eyes followed Jughead walking away, and your eyes looked slightly left to see Chuck and Reggie walking with the rest of the football team. While Chuck was now without his letterman jacket, his friends didn’t change. Reggie slightly pushed past Jughead while giving him a glare and you got a bit angered right before flinching. 

You turned towards Veronica eyeing “let’s go” and this time she nodded. You got your phone out before class and texted Jug, “you okay?”. Looking up to the raven haired girl sitting in front of you, she asked for help on a problem from the night before she didn’t understand. You walked her through the equation and saw your phone light up with a text back saying “always”. School had been a lot better for you now, friends that seemed to care was a nice change of pace. You put your phone away while the final bell rung.

                                         * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

The bell rang for the sixth time that day. You grabbed your french book and hurried to your locker to grab your lunch. You made your way outside from the cafeteria, passing by Cheryl, Reggie and Chuck eyeing you. You shrugged it off and looked foward. 

You sat down at the other side of Archie, Betty and Kevin you gave a “hi” and asked how everything was going. 

 “Good! Josie said I could open for them at the winter dance next month. May be even a few songs. As long as my nerves don’t get the better of me”. Archie slightly sighed. 

 “Of course it won’t babe”, Valerie was walking up with her tray and Jughead was somewhat behind her. While he was at Archie’s now and Mr. Andrews was making sure Jughead had a lunch, you still packed an extra bag of chips just for him. Valerie sat down and started to talk about their ideas for the Pussycat’s set, mostly original songs while Jughead made his way next to you. You grabbed the chips out of your bag and laid them on his tray as he gave a slight smile and thank you nod to you. Veronica walked up to sit next to you on your other side while gleaming “you two are adorable together”. You blushed while Jughead rolled his eyes and yet still smiled at the comment.

“What’s up Val?”. Cheryl walked up with purpose and you didn’t exactly enjoy her being there. You focused on your food while slightly grasping Jugheads knee while he ate. The rest of everyone’s eyes were on Cheryl, she was good at demanding attention like that. “So Val, Josie already said yes but I’m giving you a heads up that your playing my party this weekend. My parents are going on some trip to have some “time” together so it’s going to be a fun night. You guys are all invited too”. You went back to your plate trying not to catch Cheryl’s eye. She paused, while turning to you “Even you two sad sacks. Of course I remember how much Y/N LOVES my parties”. She snickered leaning in while catching Jugheads slight glare. 

 Betty tried to split the tension, “uh thanks Cheryl. I’m sure we’ll all swing by”. Cheryl walked away almost skipping back to her table. 

 Veronica, as always so blunt, “what the hell was that about”? Betty and Kevin gave a glance towards each other, without remarking. You quickly answered, “ah nothing, she just doesn’t like me very much. She was nice to me last year to a point”. You left it at that. Some of the table had heard a few rumors from freshmen year but they all tried to not pry into it after Jughead and you started dating. You hadn’t noticed that you were holding your hands to yourself now, trying not to bite your nails until Jughead grabbed your hand under the table. He squeezed it and gave a reassuring smile and you gave one back. 

 “Well then, I never pass up an invitation to a good party. If you gals want to come over before, we can get ready at my place” Veronica stated gleefully. 

Val spoke up, “Well I’ll be with Josie and we’ll probably be preparing before but I’ll see you guys all there. Right Archie?” 

“Of course Val!” exclaimed Archie. 

Val picked up her lunch “well I’m going to plan things out with Josie and Melody” and kissed Archie a quick goodbye. 

Veronica was still a little on edge, but her and the pussycats parted respectively as they had very different ideas for the band a few weeks prior. 

 “Well I’ll be there!” Betty chimed in happily while eyeing you for a response. Veronica turned to you, waiting. 

 “Uh well I don’t know….” she cut you off. 

 “Oh come on, you can’t let Cheryl get to you and we’ll all have your back, right Juggster?” Veronica gave concerning eyes to the man holding your hand next to you.

 “Uh, well if you want to Y/N. I’ll be there. Maybe Betts and I can get into Jason’s room one more time and actually find something….” You knew that while the police didn’t suspect any of the Blossoms anymore in Jason’s death, there was still too many questions about him and what he was exactly involved in before making his plans to leave with Polly. You looked to Betty who was nodding to Jugheads idea and was giving reassuring gestures that you should come. 

“Uh yeah, I guess I can then…” you were reluctant but going to a party with friends and a person you cared about seemed better than any other time you had ever gone to one. 

 “Perfect, I’ll pick Betty and you up at her house and then we can get ready at mine!” 

Kevin then spoke up, “Well can I get ready too”? 

Veronica laughed, “of course Kevs! Just us girls for staying over at my place though”. 

“Yeah yeah” Kevin sighed. While he got along with Archie and Jughead, they didn’t always tell each other things. But as Betty’s best friend, Veronica always tried including him. 

 You had a slightly dry taste in your mouth and reached for your water. You weren’t entirely sure if you were ready for this, but with the hand of Jughead beside you, you knew enough people there that would be there if you needed it.

[askmicrowaveayem]

Boink! Life is Better With You Pt. 24

[Previous]

[Archive]

Their first day of school came too quickly, and Doc was shaking.

He still shook. He still shook badly sometimes, but--he also could recover more quickly, now. It didn’t affect his magic. He considered that manageable.

He’d been living in his homeworld with the King for years, not the few days Gaster had survived there before the King’s death. Doc’s standards of recovery were… they were different than his friend’s.

So he didn’t know if he was sick at the idea of him being around children, trying to heal them, or if it was nerves.

Either way, he shook as they headed out the front door (hesitated a moment, but hid it well enough from the outside) and headed towards school.

Quietly, without asking, Sans nosed his way out the door and tottered behind them.

--

Gaster didn’t bother at all to hide his hesitance stepping through the door, his hand always lingering on the frame and his eyes not blinking as he passed through it.

He looked at Sans after catching him in the peripheral of his vision. “Sans? Wh-why are you coming? We’re going to work.”

Sans always came with them outside when they made small errands, but… they would be at school all day.

--

Sans gave a confident, confirming nod. He straightened up, front paws coming off the ground and slipping inside his hoodie pocket as his bones creaked and shrunk, and soon a small bipedal skeleton was trotting along beside them instead, clothed in a hoodie that swamped him like a dress, pulling a ziplock bag of popcorn out of his hoodie pocket, opening it, and popping some into his mouth.

“yep.”

--

Gaster blinked and glanced at Doc. “... Does this mean the challenge to make you like school is an actual thing?” He smiled.

--

Sans shrugged. Ate some more popcorn.

“nah. i’m just gonna find a new place to sleep, mostly. you stay in one place most of the day there, right?”

Doc was grinning, though, and nodded his head at Gaster’s question.

Even if Sans wasn’t exactly a registered student, that didn’t mean they couldn’t try to get him to enjoy school.

--

“Y-yeah. I have the same classroom as before. We won’t be g-going much of anywhere today. Doc will be sitting in and meeting the students mostly.” Gaster explained. He would be filling out paperwork in the meantime but that could be done in his classroom easily enough.

Being friends with the King got out a little wiggle room with things like that. They were both allowed to take things very slow and stay together for the first day. If things got intense tomorrow when they were separated they could always come to each others rooms.

“You know… e-everyone is going to want to talk to you.” He said, smiling down at Sans. “E-everyone wants to talk to the new kid.”

--

“hah,“ Sans said, zipping the popcorn back up and shoving it back in his pocket. “good thing i’m not the new kid.”

With that, he drew his fingers across his lips like a zipper and seamlessly grew back into his four legs, trotting along with his pointed skull held up and his tail sweeping the sidewalk behind him.

--

Ah well, he tried.

Gaster just rolled his eyes a little and shook his head, walking along with Doc and Sans to the school.

Passed the alley they had stumbled through the first time.

It was still early and the students wouldn’t be arriving for another few minutes, well enough time to get inside and get settled. Gaster approached the doorway, opening it and peering inside before stepping in and holding it for the others.

Inside was bright and cheerful. Cabinets housing trophies and photos lined the walls along with drawings and school projects.

The only problems were the doors. There were lots and lots of doors. Thankfully they would only need to enter one more.

--

...a lot had changed since he’d first stumbled out of that alley, so many months ago. Over a year ago?

Over a year ago.

...he couldn’t bring himself to regret much of it at all.

Sans came in first and immediately began exploring the area, shuffling around and poking his nose into every place it could reach, gleefully discovering the locations of all vending machines and the teacher’s lounge (and it’s fridge) after a bare few moments.

Doc came in last, glancing around slowly, taking it all in for the first time.

There were lots of doors, yes, but.. The hallways were bright and welcoming.

He wouldn’t ever mistake them for the castle’s stone walls.

He felt a little braver.

He turned to his friend and asked, “I guess, where to now?”

--

“S-Sans! Get out of the teacher’s lounge!” Gaster called after him as he watched the lumbering skeleton totter into a doorway he recognized before turning back to his friend.

“Just a few d-doors down.”

He walked along the hallway and stopped at his door, the front plastered with little cut-outs of beakers, atoms, and runes made by the children. Slowly he opened the door. Flicked on the light.

A quiet classroom filled with desks, one large one at the front with ‘Dr. Gaster’ on the nametag. Another, slightly larger desk than the ones the children used was sat beside it with the paperwork Doc would need to fill out.

“Here we are…”

--

Sans back tottered out of the teacher’s lounge a moment later, following the two further down the hall with a ketchup packet he probably hadn’t had before between his teeth.

Doc poked his head in behind his friend, looking around slowly and taking the room in.

He propped the door open securely. He’d brought a doorstopper from home, just in case the classroom didn’t have one, and it was paying off now.

“...it’s nice,” he said, glancing around at the small desks, at the wall decorations.

Sans came in behind them, took one sweeping look around the room, and meandered towards the large desk, flopping down on the floor in front of it and making himself comfortable for the long haul.

--

“That’s everything you have to fill out there.” Gaster said, gesturing to the desk, then looking down at Sans as he set his briefcase on his own desk.

“... They’re going to ask a lot of questions about Sans.” He looked at Doc, wondering what to tell them.

--

Doc looked over the papers a moment before pausing at Gaster’s question. “...the kids? Or the adults?”

One group’s curiosity would be satisfied much more easily than the other’s.

--

“The kids.” Gaster said. The adults would mostly be too polite to really ask.

--

“He’s your over-protective nephew,” Doc said, “He was very concerned after our ordeal and since he’s very strong and athletic he’s decided to hang around us in case we need help with anything. But he’s mostly there to be our moral support. And you know what, kids, you can help us too by working very hard and here’s a secret passphrase that helps us feel a little better, and if you toss a little food at Sans, you can help him stay strong too.”

(Sans wagged his tail slightly. He fully approved of this plan.)

--

Gaster smiled, “Okay. We’ll say that then.”

He leaned over the desk to peer at Sans. “I hope you’re ready for a lot of belly rubs.”

Nephew or not there was no mistaking he looked like a big dog.

A really big bone dog with sharp teeth.

--

Okay.

Okay, Sans admitted it.

He’d lost the bet.

School sounded great so far.

He gave the best grin his pointy teeth allowed and rolled onto his back to show he was extremely ready.

He wasn’t a dog, but damnit, you didn’t have to be a dog to like belly rubs.

--

Gaster smiled and looked at Doc before standing and setting about getting ready for class.

Today wouldn’t be much. Mostly answering questions of his students, talking with them about some simple things. Just getting back into the swing of things.

After a few minutes bustling could be heard from outside as the children began to file in and go to their classrooms.

The first student arrived, a young fish monster. “Mr. Gaster!” They beamed, rushing over towards the desk but stopping quickly at sight of Sans.

“Woah.”

--

Sans looked up at the sound of the intruder, cocking his head slightly at them before apparently deciding they weren’t anything to worry about and setting his head back down with a big huff.

Nothing to see here, kids. A big, dog-looking bone monster in a hoodie.

Doc watched from over his paperwork, smiling politely and not totally sure what to do, just stepping back so Gaster could handle it.

--

“Oh don’t mind him, Neme. He’s just here to bring me s-some peace of mind.” Gaster said, grinning.

The young fish monster bent down, peering at Sans closely. “... You got a monster dog?” They honestly weren’t sure what it was.

He laughed, “That’s my nephew.”

The girl blushed as much as she was able. “Oops. Sorry.”

--

Sans turned and gave her a toothy grin. It maybe looked a little menacing, but he quickly followed it up with leaning out and giving her ankle a gentle bump with his snout.

Doc smiled a little, adding quietly, “He looks scary, but he’s really not. He just likes knowing we’re both okay.”

--

“Oh.” Neme said, looking down at the strange dog-nephew.

“... Hi!” She beamed, reaching down to pet his head. “What’s his name?”

“Sans.” Gaster said, thinking back on the time when he had thought they would need to change it. When that had been their biggest worry. “It runs in the family.” He said before the other could question why he had the same name as his own son.

“Ohhh, okay!” The girl smiled.

--

Sans bumped his head up into her hand, making an agreeable noise and tilting his head to help guide her to where he wanted to be petted most. He warbled to her, the closest to a greeting he could get in his current form.

Doc nodded, smiling a little more easily as he watched Neme and Sans get along well.

“My side of the family didn’t get the naming memo at all, actually. It’s a little funny,” he said, thinking it might be best to introduce it since the child seemed to already know Gaster’s kids. How many people did, come to think of it? “He’s got a brother called Paps, too. He might be coming to join school here in a year or two.”

There. Easy enough. Just talk about them like normal kids.

...he hoped he wasn’t overstepping by talking to Gaster’s student?

Sans bumped her hand again.

--

“Cool!” Neme said, not looking up from petting Sans. As few more students filed in with similar fashion, all of them saying hello to their teacher and welcoming back before asking about Sans and petting him.

It was like bringing a dog to school. Kids loved dogs and whatever questions they had for their teacher about what happened was redirected to Sans, asking what his name was each time, why he was wearing a hoodie, and where he had come from.

Gaster was thankful for the distraction.

--

Doc watched quietly, letting Gaster handle most things while the students filed in. One or two kids he could handle, but anymore, and he was… very unsure what to do.

Sans, however, seemed to be in his element.

Any time a child got anywhere close to asking how his dads were doing, he would target that one next to bump with his nose, distracting them and spending maybe a little more energy than useful flopping over and pawing at things.

He also had an uncanny sense for where the kids might be keeping their lunches, and while he had absolutely no intention of taking their food, it was always a great way to make one run off squealing and laughing.

All in all, a good way to kick off his new tenure.

(Because as far as Sans was concerned?

He had just become tenured.)

--

The first class was easy enough. It was full of young kids who just wanted to ask questions, a lot of them being redirected to ask about Sans, but a few did manage to sneak in about how he was doing, or that he didn’t look very well.

All in all he looked great compared to how he had been nearly half a year ago, but… well, compared to before?

Yeah. He looked pretty terrible.

The bags under his eyes never went away, his hands had a small tremor, and he still stuttered even if it was mostly under control. His posture had changed drastically too, hunched and a little unsure of things.

But that was okay, because it was still better.

The students settled in their seats still asking questions for another while before Gaster started asking them questions about how they had been doing and what they had learned in his absence. Today there was no lesson plan. He was just… reacquainting himself with his students.

--

Doc settled in with his paperwork, filling it out quietly behind Gaster’s desk and listening to the students talk.

This was… different from what he was used to.

...not just about school. About being a healer.

He was pretty sure this wasn’t how most healers in this world entered a schooling system, either, but, all the same, here he was. Listening to the ones who would in all likelihood one day be his patients, talking about their parents and their pets and the things they’d done since they last saw their teacher and the caves they’d seen and the songs they’d heard.

He’d never gotten that before. Not beforehand. Not during the war, where he’d patch them up and send them off again, either healed or in bags. Not like in the castle.

Nothing like in the castle.

….he’d never really been able to know most of his patients before, except when he was a kid in the butcher’s and their regulars would come in with a gash up their leg, asking to be sewn up, since butchers already dealt with so much meat--human or pigs, all the same in the end. And they’d give them a beer and sew him up and let them sit in the corner the rest of the day groaning with their friends while they recovered a bit.

The only thing since then had been those handful that first helped him learn what would one day be his specialty.

And now kids.

He listened, and tried to remember their names.

--

After answering most of their questions himself and getting the more painful stuff, for the moment, out of the way, he glanced back at Doc to give him a warning before turning to the class again.

“As s-some of you may know my cousin Doc will be one of the new nurses here soon. He might be n-new to the area but he isn’t new to tricky little kids trying to fake sick!” Gaster grinned and tapped his nasal bone. It was a lie, but he wanted to give his friend a little head start. Kids could be manipulative and tricky when they wanted to be and plenty tried to fake one thing or another to get sent home.

“S-so no funny business. He’ll see right through you.”

--

Doc looked up at the sound of his name and gave the kids a hesitant smile and a wave, but didn’t say anything else. Not sure what he was supposed to do at this point. Hopefully that was all the input that was expected of him?

--

Doc had been mostly ignored by that point save for the occasional question, but this had been Gaster’s element and he had taken most of them. Now he was letting his friend take the heat.

He needed to know about his patients, after all.

“Where did you live before moving here?”

“Are you married?”

“Why’d you move to the capitol?”

“How old are you?”

--

He looked flustered, and wasn’t very good at hiding it. Fear, pain, anguish? Clamped down in an instant. Small children taking an interest in him? Oh dear.

“The, the other side of Ebott,” he said. “I’m not, uh, not married, but I’ve got two kids. My cousin was lonely and I needed some help raising my two, s-so we decided we’d move in with him. I-I’m twenty-nine,” he said, managing a nervous smile by the end.

--

More questions were flung at him before Gaster raised his hands to settle them. “Quiet, quiet. Class is almost up and you’ll need to head to the next one so you can ask him if you ever run into the halls, alright?”

The children started to busy themselves gathering their things and a moment later a smaller bell rang to signal the end of the period. As the first set of students filed out Gaster smiled to Doc.

“Good job.”

--

Doc smiled back, breathing out a sigh and letting his shoulders droop a bit.

“...how many more of that?”

Sans got up once the kids filed out, shaking himself a bit and stretching, looking over to see if the Gasters needed him for anything.

--

“Only a few.” Gaster said, smiling, “Different age groups. There’s one more set of young ones before we get the older kids. Those might be a bit more of a handful.”

He gave Sans the go-ahead that he was fine if he wanted to wander around.

--

Sans just wandered the classroom again, poking around in places he hadn’t really seen fully yet and such.

Doc nodded. “And the older kids?”

--

Gaster frowned a little, “... Some might be nosy. A few are bad eggs. Just not very nice kids.” He shrugged, “I’ve dealt with them since they were very young so I… sh-shouldn’t? Have any problem…”

That was then though and this was now.

--

Doc nodded, reaching out to put his hand on his friend’s shoulder reassuringly, missing the way Sans perked up a little at that information.

--

Gaster smiled at his friend, then looked at Sans. “W-what is it?”

--

Sans shook his head and came trotting back to his place at the front of Gaster’s desk, not much longer before the first of the next group of students arrived.

--

The next group was young, perhaps a little younger than the previous group. It carried on very similar to the one before; asking if they could pet Sans and how Gaster was doing and who Doc was and how he felt.

Gaster deflected any uncomfortable questions just like before, asked them how they had been while he was gone recovering.

Each class lasted an hour or so before the bell would ring.

--

This class passed a little easier, now that Doc knew what to expect. He told his lies and smiled to the kids when he was mentioned, and watched as Sans fell into his usual doze in front of Gaster’s desk.

It almost felt manageable.

--

The next class was where things would perhaps get complicated. They were older. Teenagers.

Gaster sat behind his desk and smiled at them as they came in. They didn’t flock to pet Sans like the others, a group of girls tiptoeing around him to get to the one side of Gaster’s desk and talk to him.

“My mom told me what happened. I can’t believe you fell into the abyss!”

“Are you sure you’re okay to teach? You look really tired.”

“Is that your cousin?”

--

Teenagers were something Doc had absolutely no experience in.

Where he was from, you were a child, then you were an adult.

There wasn’t a strange in between stage where you were supposed to be…. Neither, but not both?

He glanced towards Gaster when the question landed on his counsin-ness, and hoped Gaster’s experience with these kids would be enough to take care of it.

Sans’ legs curled a little tigher underneath him.

--

“Y-Yes that’s my cousin Doc. He’s going to be starting as a nurse s-soon.” Gaster said, watching as more students filed in.

“Did you make, like, a service dog or something?” One asked, glancing down at Sans.

“No, that’s my nephew.” He said, voice a little more curt than it had been with the younger children.

“Oh. Oh I’m really sorry.” The girl blushed nervously, trying to hide behind her friends.

--

Sans made a sound that was unmistakably a cackle. Doc sighed and shook his head, giving an apologetic look to the nervous girl.

“It’s okay, he does it to himself at this point. He’s just very protective after everything that’s happened.”

--

After that the trio of girls started on more light-hearted topics, mostly asking about Doc and his boys.

“Mom says your kid looks just like Papyrus did when he was little.” One said, looking over at Doc.

--

Doc nodded, “Yeah. We all have a strong resemblance. Gaster and I look very similar, too. It might be a skeleton thing.”

He hoped that brushed it off simply enough. And no one questioned why one of his sons was a quadruped or shapeshifter.

--

The girls nodded, having sort of been thinking that but… y’know. Didn’t want to be racist.

Their gossip switched over to completely unrelated things and they eventually made their way to their desks as the rest of the class filed in. It was only then did Gaster stand and walk around to the front of his desk, leaning against it, legs bridging over Sans as he waited for the students to settle.

“S-so… I’m sure you guys have some questions. I’ll try to answer some of them.”

Just get it out of the way.

--

Sans made himself a little smaller, curling up a little tighter so Gaster wouldn’t have to worry about bumping him or anything. Though, with his bulk, he was still pretty large.

The kids shifted a little glancing towards each other, before one finally raised their hand and asked, “What was it like down there?”

--

“Dark.” Gaster answered simply, “N-no light reached down there. Dark and c-cold.”

He hated lying to his students, but… he wasn’t about to let anyone outside of his very close circle of friends and family know what had really happened.

--

Doc looked down, fidgeting with his pens and keeping quiet. Sans stayed where he was.

A little murmur passed through the students and they shifted again, all clearly curious but not wanting to be the next who asked.

--

Gaster looked out at the rest of the students, arms still having a sort of constant tremble as they folded in front of him.

“I’m s-sure most of your parents have already talked about it with you, so there probably isn’t much I can a-add. All that matters is we’re f-fine now and recovering.”

Hopefully that would be well enough for them to leave it alone.

--

“So are you gonna stutter forever?” a monster from the back called.

Sans sat upright.

--

Ah yes. There it was.

“M-maybe.” He said, giving the child a pointed look and a frown. He gripped his hands together to stop them from trembling more than usual. “It isn’t as b-bad as it was when we made it back.”

--

“But why would just being in the dark for a while be that bad?”

They’d barely gotten the sentence out when Sans began to growl.

--

Gaster’s frown grew. He let Sans growl, didn’t stop him from that much. It brought him a little bit of comfort.

“N-near death experiences have effects like stuttering and sh-shakes.”

He wasn’t wrong. It just wasn’t the right near-death experience. The King probably hadn’t been ready to kill either of them, but… but maybe what he did was even worse.

At least death came with an end. Intimidation and manipulation through torture could go on forever.

--

Doc stared down at his desk. Didn’t dare lift his head.

Sans kept glaring the student down, but whether it was his glare, the growl, or Gaster’s words that finally made the kid shrink, he didn’t know.

He didn’t care.

So long as it was understood.

--

Gaster waited a few more moments before sighing and continuing on.

He didn’t make sweet smalltalk with these students, not after that. Instead he asked them what they had learned while he was gone, where he would need to pick up where he left off.

Even if he was really only working two days a week to start.

--

The students mumbled their answers, and very slowly, Sans laid back down.

Rested his head on his paws.

Watched them all.

Doc quietly began scribbling on his papers.

He couldn’t wait for this class to end.

--

It would feel like it lasted a lot longer than the others just because of the tension in the room.

Gaster tried his best to lighten the mood. Tried to smile.

Looked a little more tired and beaten than before, couldn’t hide it as well as he might have before all of this mess.

Eventually the bell rang.

It signaled the end of the day and the students would file out.

Gaster didn’t sit back down on his desk yet, watching as they left, telling them he would see them tomorrow.

--

Sans spotted the one who had asked the uncomfortable question.

Stood when they stood.

Trotted towards him, only hesitating when Doc called out to him, then continuing forward anyway.

--

“Sans.” Gaster said sternly as well, then frowned and looked at Doc before pushing off his desk to follow.

“Sans.” He said, a little more stern.

--

Sans stopped, grumbling a little, then shuffled onto his hind legs once there was no one else in the room but his dads, him, and the kid staring at him with wide eyes as he shrank and his angles grew softer. As his forelimbs grew into hands.

“i’m just gonna ask why he thought that was even okay to ask. since uncomfortable questions are clearly perfectly okay.”

--

“Just let it go, S-Sans.” Gaster said, eyeing the kid who had asked him that question in the first place, daring him to question why his nephew had just shapeshifted or anything that was happening, really.

He didn’t say it was okay what the teen had asked, because it wasn’t, but he didn’t hold grudges over his students.

--

Sans frowned as much as his skull structure allowed.

“i’m not gonna fight him, geez,” he said, eyes unamused. He looked back over at the other kid. “just think about other’s feeling’s some more, alright, buddy?”

It wasn’t really a threat, but he sure hoped it stuck in his mind for a while.

--

It probably would, if not just because he had witnessed a shapeshifting skeleton saying the words.

Only after the boy had nodded and excused himself did Gaster sigh and let his head hang.

--

Sans slunk back down to his preferred form and curled up next to Gaster, head knocking against his leg while Doc walked around the desk to get a bit closer.

“...you going to be okay?”

--

“Y-... yeah.” Gaster said, reaching down to pat Sans’ head. Didn’t really look at either of them.

“Just… f-feeling a little self-conscious, is a-all.”

He still wasn’t comfortable with his stutter, but he had gotten to the point where he could ignore it for the most part.

--

Sans just stayed where he was. Letting Gaster pat him. Hoping being nearby was helping some.

Doc just nodded and reached out to rub Gaster’s shoulder.

“....not the worst first day, though, right?”

--

He smiled a little.

“Y-yeah… It wasn’t too bad.” His eyes finally lifted to look at Doc. “It will get b-better.”

It had been getting better pretty constantly for months.

--

He smiled back faintly, reassured by the words.

From his perspective, any direction in this world was up--but he wanted his friend to take part in that too. He wanted to be able to enjoy it, the safety. And the reassurances helped.

“Yeah. Yeah, it will. Want to drop these papers off and go watch the news with our kids a while?”

--

“Th-that sounds nice.” Gaster said, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath before standing straighter and rounding his desk to grab his own paperwork.

He would finish it at home.

--

Doc nodded and gathered up what he’d managed to finish. They dropped it off at the proper are, Sans shuffling languidly behind them and occasionally letting out wide yawns.

He’d nose doors open before either Gaster could reach the handles. Give lazy half-lidded warning glances towards anyone who looked a little too long towards them.

All in all, they had no trouble dropping the papers off and exiting school.

--

The rest of the year was… good.

Gaster never did stop stuttering. Never did stop trembling, but he stepped through doorways a little more confidently once he had developed smaller, portable machines with Doc.

Everyone was required to carry one at all times. It was only slightly larger than a phone, so it wasn’t too much of a hinderance.

Gaster took up teaching full time again. His sons never did leave the capitol after that, both of them getting jobs of their own and sticking around to help raise their alternate selves and make sure their dad was alright.

He still had nightmares.

Sometimes he had to call out of work for bad days and sometimes nothing was needed to trigger them. He would just wake up in a panic and be unable to calm down. Sometimes he would be doing something as simple as making dinner and just burst into tears or shake so badly he couldn’t hold a knife.

He had stopped caring where he slept as long as he didn’t sleep alone. On the worse nights he would sleep with the younger Sans, leaning over him and resting against him in a similar way he had with Endogeny back in his friend’s world.

It lessened the strange phantom burning sensation that sometimes came at random.

--

Doc would never leave the world he was born in.

Not really.

He carried it with him in a quiet way. In the little fear he felt each time someone snuck up behind him. In the phantoms he saw out of the corner of his eye. In the quiet anticipation of the day a child would one day come to his office, maimed beyond repair, and someone behind him with a low voice saying he could improve them and help all monster kind advance. In the way he endured each time the canine unit of Snowdin appeared on the news, and how he just couldn’t laugh off their sweet bumbling the way he knew most monsters affectionately did.

He would always be a stranger. But he would always be a guest.

It got a little easier to watch Asgore approach him, over time. So long as his shirts were floral and his demeanor easy, so long as Asgore never touched his shoulders, never touched his face, Doc could smile up at him and ask how his flowers were doing, if it would be alright if Sans and Papyrus could come over and look at the sun.

Sans never formally entered school.

He also never really left it.

While Doc grew comfortable in the nurse’s office, where he only ever had to speak to one person at a time, Sans found a place at the foot of Gaster’s desk, quietly accepting the title of service-nephew as the understanding slowly spread that he was there for days when Gaster needed someone to lean on him, or growl at kids who were behaving just a bit too cruelly.

He wasn’t really about letting cruelty stand.

He also wasn’t really about standing.

So most of his days, he spent lying down.

Eventually, school grew routine enough and he grew comfortable enough that he would, in fact, sleep most of the day. There was a bowl in front of his napping place with a little paper sign beside it (in his own handwriting--something which most kids didn’t believe, since he didn’t really appear to have thumbs, but a few smart cookies pointed out you didn’t actually need thumbs to write--) that said, “will stop snoring 4 food.”

(he didn’t snore on test days and when the subjects grew tough. And he knew when the subjects would grow tough. He’d memorized most of the stuff by now. He wasn’t that mean, no matter what the kid who’d first insulted Gaster’s stutter might say.)

His cellphone-sized dimensional travel machine, unfortunately, did not agree with his hoodie pocket. It refused to stay in, and after a few very rapid drops and one broken machine, the Gasters had--woe--strapped it to his neck.

He’d been a little insulted.

His elder version had been the only one who could really soothe that indignity.

The older Sans had figured out how to strap a bottle of ketchup and straw to the collar.

Needless to say, Sans had grown rather content in his life in the science classroom, giving the lazy eye to anyone who wondered aloud how a skeleton got a quadruped nephew, and napping.

And when Papyrus started school, fully integrating himself in their new world?

He would be right there underfoot to be tripped over constantly, so his little brother would never be alone.

--

If anything the horrors they had gone through only strengthened Gaster’s friendship with Asgore. He understood why Doc was so nervous, had eventually been told that wearing anything other than his robes helped, and always made sure they were given plenty of warning before he stopped by.

Never once did he touch Doc like he did with Gaster.

He would drop by now and then to take the two young ones for a day at the castle, a day to be treated to tea and cakes and the occasional new toy while frolicking in the one room where the sun could shine and natural flowers could grow.

It did wonders for his mood.

Asgore smiled a little more. Stood a little less hunched, enjoyed life a little more now that he didn’t feel so alone. Now that the castle occasionally had the sounds of playful children again.

Things would never really be perfect, but they would be good.

Younger Sans and Papyrus would grow up with two loving fathers, a pair of brothers always looking out for them, and a big fluffy uncle who loved to spoil them when they went for visits.

Gaster would get to be with his own two kids far more often than he had before. He cherished their company and Asgore’s tenfold, and he would be nothing without Doc helping him through the worse days and being there to talk to and smile with on the good.

--

There were days when Doc fell asleep to nightmares.

(But every morning he woke among friends.)