#and i hate that they basically pay me in small pebbles for my hard work

[blirpus]

didnt wanna rant in the tags of that previous post i reblogged so im making a separate post

cause man i WISH i could just do fuck all at work sometimes. theyre monitoring your performance and i always skip at least one of my breaks so i can stay well above the quota and get performance bonuses. but its fucking bullshit that the time you spend on a coffee break counts towards your hourly average of lines collected. my feet hurt every day and im slowly developing a bunion from this shit fucking job that doesnt let me sit down and fucking REST for a moment

[a-vintage-snake]

Fear and Delight

Pairing(s): Pre-romantic Dukeceit 

First chapter - Previous chapter - Next chapter

Warnings: Child abuse, dirty humor, basically Remus is Very Thirsty™ for that Snake Booty Characters: Janus “Deceit” Sanders, Remus Sanders,

Summary: What exactly happened in the year that Remus disappeared?

Word Count: 9072

Author’s Note: SO. That new episode, AM I RIGHT?? I absolutely loved it, instant fave! That being said, I have considered going back and change Deceit to Janus, but instead I decided to work his name reveal into the story as a plot point. So don't worry, we will be getting snake boi's name into the story eventually, it will just take a while. A loooong while.

People who were asked to be tagged: @avocados26, @fandoms-will-collide @nottoonormalme, @bihighandgivinghighfives, @atticusfinchthelegend​, @hekking-happy-nonsense, @lockmcduckwoodchuck

If you want to be removed or added to the taglist, just ask!

Read on AO3

One year ago…

When Remus and his brother had been little, their nanny had often read to them before bed. Stories about daring adventures, defeating monsters and love at first sight. Roman had always sighed dreamily at the last part, romantic little shit that he was. Remus on the other hand would just roll his eyes, yell ‘BORING!!’ and demand that their nanny go back to the part about monster slaying.

Now Remus wanted to kick himself for not paying more attention, cause seriously? How the fuck did those characters deal with love at first sight???

Not as if any tips would have helped in those first moments, when he had openly stared at quite possible the single most drop dead gorgeous man he had ever seen. He was distantly aware that the absolute dreamy apparition from the heavens was talking to him in that silky rich voice that made Remus’ knees weak (luckily he was sitting down). Not a single word registered. Remus was just a tad distracted, thank you very much. Honestly, did this guy know how pretty his face was?? This had to be illegal somewhere.

Deceit stopped talking and frowned. Not an unusual thing to happen, people frowned at him all the time. What was unusual was that Deceit leaned forward a bit and gently gripped Remus’ chin with one hand. Remus’ thoughts, usually an unstoppable whirlwind of continuous screaming abruptly came to a screeching halt. Deceit inspected his eyes, slightly tilting Remus’ head from left to right as he did. Remus followed his guiding hand breathlessly, gawking at how Deceit’s scales glittered in the light of the setting sun. He wanted to draw them... Or maybe lick them. Both? Both is good.

“…I definitely used a too potent of a sleeping spell on you,” Deceit sighed as he released his chin. Remus wanted to whine at the loss of contact. “Luckily, that’s just a matter of sleeping it off.” Deceit continued as he rose from the cot and looked down at Remus. “Can you walk?” He asked.

Remus shot up from the cot so fast that he probably sprained something. Fucking hell, if this guy had asked if he could fly he would have immediately jumped out of the window without a doubt. Deceit raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. Instead he walked towards the door, throwing a ‘follow me’ motion over his shoulder. Remus nearly tripped over his own feet as he scrambled to catch up.

Deceit led him out of the door into darkened halls. He snapped his fingers and a small flame appeared in his hand, lighting their path.

The walk was a quiet one. Their footsteps rung in the empty darkness as Remus trailed after the other, wide-eyed and dazed. Remus realized at one point that he had to be in the hidden castle. The one from all the stories, the hideout of one of the most dreaded figures in their country’s history. He had found it… Or rather, he was brought to it. The place everyone feared so much that they avoided the mountains all together.

But who fucking cared about that nonsense?? Certainly not Remus! All he could focus on was the back of the warlock’s head and those beautiful fluffy curls. His fingers were itching and twitching to run through those curls, to see if they really were as soft as they looked like. In fact, his hand already stretched out-

“Here we are,” Deceit interrupted Remus’ musings and he quickly snapped his hand back. They had reached a door in the time where Remus was slowly loosing his mind. Deceit opened and held the door open for him. “These will be your chambers for the duration of your stay.” He said.

Remus stared dumbly at him. “My chambers…?” He repeated a little dumbfounded.

“Yes.” Deceit nodded. Remus looked between the warlock and the open door uncertainly.

“…You’re not going to… Throw me into a dungeon…?” Remus asked dubiously. Deceit tilted his head.

“Why? Would you prefer that?”

…Was he messing with him? Remus honestly couldn’t tell. The warlock’s expression was impossible to read; it was quite an impressive poker face he got there. Realizing he had no hope of forming a somewhat intelligent answer to that, Remus looked away from those mismatched (absolutely alluring, could stare in them for hours) eyes and walked into the room.

He hadn’t been sure what to expect… No, that was lie. Remus knew exactly what he had expected. A torture chamber perhaps, maybe with some various jars with preserved limbs. Or a completely barren cell with one tiny barred window, where he had no choice but to eat his own leg to survive. Not this. Not a perfectly welcoming warm bedchamber, that looked like it was carved into the mountainside rather than built with bricks. A fireplace crackled softly on one side of the room and a comfortable looking poster-bed stood on the other. Large windows showed the peaks of the mountains outside, now black outlines against a quick darkening sky. The view had to be beautiful in daytime. On a small desk near the windows stood a tray with a glass, an elegant carafe filled with crystal clear water and a plate of several assortments of fresh fruit and bread.

Completely baffled Remus stared at the room. He may not have much experience with these types of things, but this is not exactly what he thought a hostage situation would be like.

…Unless he was in one of those steamy romance novels Roman hid underneath his bed and pretended he didn’t read. Oh man, he really, really hoped that was the case.

“You’ll find a bathroom with everything you need through the door on your right,” Deceit said behind him. “Get some more sleep. We’ll talk again in the morning.”

Remus, who had been wholeheartedly distracted, whipped around when he heard the door close. His throat closed up. Ice gripped his veins as he rushed to the door, ready to pound on it, scream-

No no no don’t lock the door don’t lock him up please-!!

One twist on the doorknob and the door flew open, letting Remus tumble out the room in a flurry of unbalanced limbs. He barely avoided tipping over and acquainting his face with the stone floor. He hadn’t… Locked the door?

Perplexed Remus righted himself, staring down the dark empty hallway that greeted him. The warlock was nowhere in sight. What the shit? How did he do that so fast? Was it another one of those disappearing reappearing acts? Or had he turned invisible? Was he staring at Remus right now? Judging him?

Suddenly shockingly aware that he hadn’t shaved (or bathed for that matter) since he left home, Remus quickly retreated back into the chambers that were his now? Apparently?? And threw the door closed with a bang. He leaned against the wood like hell itself was high on his heels. Judging by the way his heart hammered a mile a minute, he would say it was.

Stumbling unsteadily towards the desk near the windows, Remus grabbed the carafe with water and downed half of it in one go. No time to bother with the glass! He was thirsty in more ways than one, and at least this thirst was easily quenchable.  

After he had devoured most of the fruit and bread and threw some of the left over water over his head for good measure, Remus felt a bit better. For a few seconds he could even say he was calm… But then he glanced around the room again and remembered his bizarre situation. Flashes of scales and fangs and a voice like velvet rang through his head, and Remus had to muffle a scream into his hands.

Get some more sleep, Deceit had said. But Remus wasn’t tired in the slightest. He just had the longest nap in the history of ever! He felt like he could stay awake until the sun exploded and burnt the world to a crisp little pebble. That’s why he found himself still agitatedly pacing the floor hours later, when the sky outside had turned to a deep pitch black. Remus was pretty sure that he was pacing a hole into the soft rug underneath his feet, but he couldn’t sit still even if he tried.

“Okay. Okay okay okay okay,” Remus muttered. “I’m stuck, in a hidden castle, with quite possibly the hottest man I’ve ever seen in my entire fucking life, no one knows where I am, what the HELL am I going to do???”

It was twelfth time that night that he had started this very conversation with himself, and his brain still hadn’t progressed any further than ‘roll over and play dead’, which was not helping!

“Come oooooooon!!” Remus groaned as he dragged his hands down his face. “I have to do something!”

Nope! No you don’t! You don’t have to do jack shit!

“But have you looked at him??? I would hate myself forever if I don’t at least try to tap that!”

You don’t even know why he keeps you here! For all you know he just wants to use you!

“Fuck, I hope so-!”

Not the fun kind of use, you idiot!

“Oh…” Remus slumped in disappointment.

Look, I know it’s hard-

Remus snorted. “Heheh. Hard.”

FOCUS. You heard the stories! He wants to take over the kingdom! And you’re part of the royal family! He probably just sees you as his stepping stool to the throne!

“Honestly, he could step on me anytime-”

NOT THE POINT. The point is that you’re his enemy… He might be nice to you now, but who’s to say that that will last?

That gave Remus pause. That was unfortunately a good point to consider…

“I guess,” He pondered. “That I’ll have to give him a good reason not to kill me?”

Oh yeah, and how are you gonna do that, genius?

Stopping his pacing on the rug, Remus bit his thumbnail as his mind raced. Good question. How could he get in Deceit’s good graces, so the warlock wouldn’t get rid of him the second he was no use anymore?

…Remus only had to think about that for a few seconds. The answer was pretty obvious.

“Okay, so he might want to use me to for “taking over the kingdom” purposes!” He mused out loud. “But if I, hypothetically,” Remus paused for a second, forcing the next words to fall from his mouth with a tremor. “…Were to willingly help him with that…”

…That would be treason.

“It would be.” Remus agreed. Treason of the highest order. But…

He glanced toward the window. The night made it look like a black hole, or the gaping jaw of a monster ready to devour him. He didn’t know if he could have seen his home from this window in daytime, but it was still out there. Waiting for him to return. So why did that thought make his stomach twist and hurt instead of comfort him?

…What did he owe those fuckers in the castle anyway?

Not much, if he was going to be honest. He had clung on to the fantasy that if he only could have his heroic moment, the world and his family would finally see the errors of their ways and everything would be perfect at last. After that forced little game of truth and dare last night however? That childish lie, which he had held onto with all the desperation of a drowning man, had shattered. Nothing was waiting for him back down the mountain. Fuck, he certainly wouldn’t do it for the happy memories…

“Failure.”

“Disappointment.”

“Why did I even get a brother?”

Remus closed his eyes. Inhaled.

“…I will help the warlock take over the kingdom,” He breathed out. “Fuck them.”

He clenched his hands into fists to suppress the full body shiver that overtook him. There was a small, terrified little part of him screaming not to do this. Mom and dad would be furious. Even more than they had ever been. If they found out that he was involved in this…

“LET ME OUT!! PLEASE I’M SORRY I’LL NEVER DO IT AGAIN I WON’T SPEAK I WON’T THINK I’M SORRY I’M SORRY JUST LET ME OUT PLEASE!!!”

Remus shook his head to rid himself of the memory of trapped stuck why was no one coming please anyone home.

“I’ll just make sure they never know it was me that helped him!” He merrily said, ignoring how his voice wavered. He pushed away the nausea that threatened to overtake him, and focused on his idea. It would be perfect! His family would be turned into feral ferrets or chopped up for potion ingredients or whatever the hell the warlock wanted to do with them, and he… If he played his cards right and got really lucky Deceit might keep him around. He might even be his friend!

Are you sure about that?

Remus winced. Oh great, the voice of reason was here. Remus hated the voice of reason. It always managed to sound just like his parents, his brother and every teacher he ever had at the same time.

I mean, come now. You think he would actually like you?

“He can!” Remus said, but even to himself he didn’t sound very convincing. “I mean, he said there was nothing wrong with me! That I am complete, just the way I am-!”

Oh he certainly told you that… But be honest with yourself. Do you think he would have said those same things if he actually knew you? REALLY knew you?

Remus opened his mouth to protest. His mind scoured for counter arguments. None came. For once his head went deafeningly silent on its own accord.

After a few seconds Remus’ shoulders slumped. He sighed through his nose.

“…no.” Remus said softly.

Exactly. The voice of reason said smugly. No. So why even bother trying? It’s not as if anyone has ever picked you. I mean… Why would they?

He couldn’t deny it even if he wanted to. Of course they wouldn’t pick him when Picture Perfect Fairy-tale Prince Charming was there too. He loathed thinking it, but Roman probably wouldn’t have a problem winning the warlock over. No no, he would recite some boring ass poetry, or give him a rose, or some dreadfully boring compliment and wam-bam, thank you ma’am Roman had a magical boyfriend before anyone could blink.

He scowled and kicked at the carpet. It wasn’t fair! Roman always got the best things! Why couldn’t he, for once, just get what he wanted instead of his brother stealing it from him-!

He stopped. A penny dropped in Remus’ head. A thrilling, captivating penny.

“…I can totally win Deceit over.” Remus whispered.

Uh, haven’t you been listening? We’ve never beaten Roman-!

“But that’s just the thing! Roman…” Remus said in slow, cautiously excited realization. “Isn’t here.”

…So?

“So he’s not here to upstage or cock-block me!” Remus’ eyes sparkled. A plan started to take form in his head, in a technicolor whirlwind of party streamers and canon explosions. Roman wasn’t here… It was just he and his sexy rattlesnake. A thousand possibilities suddenly opened up for him.

“I could-! I could woo him!” Remus excitedly said. “Sweep him off his feet! Blow his mind! And hopefully blow something else!”

If he did this right he might actually have a chance! Plus, as far as he knew, Sexy Scales and him really were the only people in this whole castle! No competition! And if he hadn’t had company for a while now, he must- Ooooh damn…

“He must crave the D so bad…” Remus whispered reverently.

That’s all well and good, but what makes you think he would go for YOU of all people?

“That’s where the second part of my plan comes in!” Remus said excitedly. “I am going to channel…” He threw his hands up in a dramatic flourishing pose. “My inner Roman!”

WHAT?? Eeeew, no! Gross! Why???

“No no really, think about it! People don’t like me, true, but everyone loves Roman! He’s got people kissing his ass all the time for some reason!”

Yes, he had never seen Roman without someone (or several someone’s!) grovelling at his feet, begging to ‘pretty please, fart in my direction today oh great and powerful crown prince!!’ or something along that line. Remus had always thought it was disgusting, but right now he needed that energy more than anything.

“This will be perfect! But for this to work I have to imitate mister Floundering Vanilla flawlessly! If I do everything right my beautiful Beau Constrictor will be super-duper impressed and fall hopelessly in love with me in no time! Goodnight, the end, happily ever after!”

…Holy shit that’s BRILLIANT. Good thinking Remus!

“Thank you Remus!” Remus said brightly.

Hmmm, yes, GREAT plan. Except you you’re not really Roman, are you? Even if it works, you’ll inevitably screw up. And once your lover realizes he didn’t get what he signed up for…

Remus however cheerfully ignored the voice of reason as excitement for his plan took over. He threw off his filthy clothes and boots as he dashed to the door that the warlock had pointed out. Behind it he found a bathroom made from black stone, thin lines of gold curling like veins in the dark stone. A grand deep-set bath was carved out in the floor, ceiling high windows giving a perfect view of the dark mountains. Remus’ first instinct was to press his ass against the glass and moon the entire kingdom, but he squashed it down. That’s not something Roman would do, and he was going to be Roman from now on, wasn’t he? Instead he opened the golden taps, and jumped in without waiting for the water to fill the bath up.

With more vigour than he ever had Remus scrubbed away the filth he had build up while traveling. Several golden bottles lined at the tub turned out to be ointments and bath oils, and he lathered all of them into his skin and hair. When he deemed himself clean he sprung from the bath, smelling like a lavender field had thrown up on him. An inspection into a cabinet carved into the wall turned up black towels, a set of clean clothes, toiletries and, surprisingly but thankfully, a razor. He stared at the blade in his hand for a second. Apparently the warlock was not worried at all about giving his hostage a potential weapon.

Deciding not to think to hard about the implications of that, Remus shaved away his three-day scruff meticulously. His moustache received a good trim and he curled the ends up extra fancily. When he finished he gave his naked reflection an appreciative once-over.

“Aw yeah,” He nodded with a satisfied grin. “Ready to seduce a snake!”

The clothes he found were simple, but clean and comfortable. As he slipped into a black pair of breeches and a black blouse with tiny silver buttons he briefly wondered where the warlock got the clothes. Remus sure as hell hadn’t packed up any extras.

…Wait. Were they his? Remus considered that possibility with wide eyes. The pants were a bit snug around his waist…

Running out of the bathroom Remus threw himself onto the bed and screamed into the very soft pillows for a few minutes, lest he be tempted to give the clothes a good sniff. Because that would be weird and not something Roman would do!

When he finally pulled himself together, Remus used a towel to clean his boots as well as he could before putting them back on. He pulled a hand through his damp hair, gave his armpits a testing sniff and smoothed down any wrinkles in his blouse. He took a two-armed candelabra to light his way and threw open the door.

Eagerly Remus walked into the dark halls that awaited him. Ready to grab his destiny by its gorgeous scaled face.    

--

There lived a witch in the woods.

That however was no concern right now for the angry crowd making their way through the forest, torches lightning their path. They had dogs on leashes with them, barking madly.

“The monster is close,” said the leader of the mob. “The dogs can smell it. Spread out! Find it!” With several voices yelling in agreement, the people spread out.

The monster in question was hiding underneath a bush. He held a hand against his mouth, desperately trying to stifle the sobs that kept pouring from him. His back burned, his shirt sickeningly slick with blood. He tried to wipe his tears away, the scales on his hands rubbing painfully against his puffy eyes. He winced when he heard the dogs barking in the distance.

They couldn’t find him. They would drag him back to the town, where they would be. They would hurt him again.

“Sit still, you filthy little beast!”

“N-No! PLEASE STOP IT HURTS PLEASE!!”

“Be a bit more grateful! We’ll get these unsightly things off of you!”

Years down the line he still wouldn’t know how exactly he got away. All he knew that one minute he was being held down, a knife slicing under the scales on his skin. The next minute he was running outside, into the woods that surrounded his family home.

Something on his back moved, and he flinched. Perhaps it had been… those things that had helped him escape. He hated them. Hated, hated, hated the extra arms that occasionally just appeared, as if to taunt him that he wasn’t human, that he was every bit the freak that everyone told him he was.

“Go away,” He whispered desperately at the extra appendages. “Go away go away go away go away!!”

A shudder ran down his back, and he knew they had vanished once more. His wave of relief was shot down when he heard the yelling, closer than he wished they were. He had to move. Shakily he crawled out of the false safety of his hiding place, hobbled to his feet and ran.

He couldn’t stop the tears from flowing, his steps and sobbing deafening in the silent forest. As much as the dark frightened him, the small hints of light that he could see through the trees were even more terrifying. The voices behind him became louder and louder, the barking nearing. He could almost feel the dog’s jaws closing around his ankle. He tried to speed up, but every step jostled pain down his ruined back. Spots danced in his vision, tears leaking faster because of the burning ache.

His foot caught behind a root, and he landed on the forest floor with a painful yelp. He tried to get up as quickly as he could, but-

“THERE IT IS! WE FOUND IT!”

Fear spurring him on, the monster jumped up and ran. Now he heard running behind him, the mob closing in on him. He no longer tried to quiet down his cries.

He dashed into an open spot. It made him feel to open and exposed, and he tried to run towards the relative safe covering of the trees once more. But before he could reach them, another group of people burst from the treelines in front of him. He skidded, turning, wanting to run back, but there was the other group.

“Here it is! Grab it!” “No!” The monster sobbed. “No, please no!”

The mob didn’t listen, only closed him in with bloodlust in their eyes. The monster turned and turned, hoping to find a way to escape. Spotting none, he dropped to his knees and curled into a small ball, his arms covering his head. He heard the people approaching, victory in their yelling, and he only hoped that the end would come quickly-

“STOP.”

A bright light burst to life in the open spot, shocking the mob to a standstill. The monster could see the light seeping through his closed eyelids.

“What is happening here?” The booming voice of a woman asked.

“This is no concern of you, witch,” The mob leader said gruffly. “We’re here to kill the monster that has terrorized our town for too long.”

The monster swallowed as his throat closed up painfully. A witch. Now he was truly done for.

“A monster?” The woman said in baffled disbelief. “That is a child! You would murder a child in cold blood?”

“That is no child!” Someone sneered. “It’s a demon straight from the underworld!”

Agreeing voices sounded across the open spot. The monster trembled and curled into a smaller ball when he heard the people moving again, closing in on him.

“Don’t come near him!” The woman bellowed. “Anyone who dares to touch him will answer to me!”

Most footsteps came to a hesitant halt. One of them however didn’t stop.

“You don’t scare me, witch!” A man said. “I have slain plenty monsters before, and this one won’t be any different! That skin will look nicely on a new belt!”

The monster sobbed a little louder when he peeked under his arm and saw the boots of the man right in front of him.

“Oh really?” Said the woman. Her voice had turned dangerously soft. “Well, in that case, know you have brought this upon yourself…”

Another burst of bright white light illuminated the open spot. The monster only caught a small glimpse of it from under his arms.

“You have not heeded my warnings. Therefor you will suffer my curse. If any of you ever lays a hand on a child with the intention to harm again,” The woman’s voice turned powerful, commanding. “You will be transformed into PIGS!”

Muttering was heard, fear finally replacing the anger that had held the mob in its tight grasp. The man above the monster however only scoffed.

“Nice bluff, lady,” He said. “But no witch or sorcerer alive has ever brought down such a curse!” With that he bended down and harshly yanked the monster up by his bloodied shirt. The rough handling send a sharp shot of pain down his tortured back, and he howled in agony.

Immediately the hand released him. The monster fell back down with a thud while the man above him stumbled to the ground. The monster looked up at his would-be captor. The man shuffled backwards, staring pale as the moon at his pulsing hands. His mouth opened in a horrified silent yell as his fingers shrunk into his hands and hoofs started forming. His nose scrunched up, turning into a perfect little snout. Tusks pushed up from his bottom lip.

“NO STOP IT PLEA-!!” The man’s screaming transformed into horrified squealing as his vocal chords shifted and changed.

Screaming erupted over the open spot as the people dropped their weapons and ran, tripping over themselves to get away as fast as they could. The man turning pig tried to stand up to run along with them, but he stumbled as his legs shortened and his clothes clung onto a gradually shrinking body. No one came to his aid. He dragged himself after them, pleading squeals leaving him. Wide eyed the monster stared as the mob disappeared among the trees, their wails dying away slowly in the night.

His momentary reprieve didn’t last long. Careful footsteps approached him and the monster realized the witch was still there. Quickly he curled himself back into a ball. Panicked logic told him that as long as he didn’t move she might not spot him. Surely if this woman saw his face she would understand why the mob had chased him down. She would be scared… Or maybe she wanted to carve away his scales as ingredients for potions. She was a witch, that’s what witches did, right?

A curious touch on his arm startled the monster, making him tighten the arms around his head. The monster heard curious snuffles and soft clicks as something small rustled through the leafs around him. A little snout sniffed at his hand, insistently trying to nudge his arms away from his face.

Overtaken by his own curiosity, the monster warily peeked over his arm. Two ruby red angular eyes with split pupils met his. Pearlescent white scales trailed down a small reptilian body, leathery wings stretching out as the creature tilted its head inquisitively. He couldn’t help it; the monster lifted his head up a bit more to stare.

Was that… a dragon?

The white dragon didn’t move away as the monster gaped. It only let out a soft thrilling sound as it inspected him with an intelligent gaze. The sound made the monster smile hesitantly. He had never seen a dragon before…

A gentle hand caressed his curls, and ice-cold fear snapped him back to the here and now.

“DON’T LOOK AT ME!!” The monster yelled as dove back into a curled up ball. The hand snapped back. He bit his lip to choke back a strangled sob. Oh no oh no he had raised his voice, he yelled at an adult, this was bad, this was BAD-!!

“Why wouldn’t I look at you?” The woman asked softly. Her voice was a far cry from the intimidating boom from barely a minute ago. The monster however wasn’t fooled.

“I’m c-cursed…” He hiccupped. “P-Please don’t look, I’m c-c-cursed…”

A beat of silence. The monster knows that by now she must have spotted the scales on his hands, the sharp talons where blunt nails should be. Any second now she was going to scowl in disgust and call the mob back, who would finish the job. Fresh tears started straining down his cheeks as he awaited the inevitable.

“Oh no…” The woman whispered. “Oh no no no no no…”

Strong arms wrapped around him and lifted him gingerly from the ground. The monster wanted to beg and plead for mercy, but every word died in his throat when he was pulled against the woman’s broad chest in a careful embrace.

“I’m sorry…” The woman murmured brokenly as she stroked his hair soothingly. “I’m so, so sorry… Sorry, sorry, sorry…”

The monster lay paralyzed in the hug as the woman kept whispering apologies above him. “Please don’t hurt me…” He whimpered in a weak little voice. The woman’s breath hitched and she tightened her arms around him.

“Never, you hear me?” She said shakily. “Never.”

A gasp tore from his throat as Deceit shot upright. It took him a few frantic seconds to stop seeing the forest in the shadows of his room, to realize it was cold sweat dripping down his back and not blood.

With a groan Deceit fell back on his bed, rubbing the palms of his hands into his eyes. Great, that particular dream hadn’t passed the revue in a while. Oh, he just loved how it didn’t seem to matter how many decades had passed since that damned night; the dreams kept coming back. Like a fever he couldn’t quite shake. Weren’t his demons tired by now, beating him up with the same stick every single time?

Dragging his hands down his face, Deceit glared up at the ceiling like it was personally responsible for his ruined night. Damn, he was tired… He hadn’t slept this bad in ages. What had made him this restless-

Oh right. He had a guest.

Deceit groaned again, a longer, outdrawn sound of exhausted misery. Fate truly was a cruel mistress, wasn’t it? Just when he had seriously considered- horror above horrors- giving up (good grief, the words alone made him want to puke), they had thrown the winning key to his plan right into his lap. A member of the royal family… Not just that, one of the princes. This opened pathways he hadn’t even dared to think about before!

Speaking of things that just kept coming back, hope settled into the small dark dungeon that was his heart like the flickering light of a single candle. As if fate was a particular sadistic jailor who adored mocking him, taunting Deceit that he possibly couldn’t break out of his prison cell with just this one blasted candle.

Well. It wouldn’t be the weirdest thing he had ever done to escape. And Deceit would be damned if he didn’t prove the jailor wrong.

Restless anticipation made him glide out of bed. He dressed himself in the dim light of the brightening sky outside. As he shrugged on his cloak he idly wandered towards the window. The sky was a pale grey, slowly brightening the mountains in hesitant light. The sun would rise soon, and with it, it would bring the first day of his new plan in motion.

Deceit closed his eyes in thought. A thousand paths unfurled in his mind’s eye, glistening like silk threads. Each thread was an idea, a scheme… a person. All waiting, blissfully unaware, for him to reach out to grasp the threads, to gently tug and guide them into the steps he wanted. Weave them into a dance so natural, so delicately planned that they did not realize the strings were there until it was too late.

Each thread was inspected meticulously, every possible outcome considered. His utmost focus however was on the thread that would be at the centre of his web.

Remus.

Deceit let his mind go to the man currently in his grasp. When the little prince had revealed who he was, last night on that mountaintop, Deceit had to force his hands to stay still, for his voice to remain steady. It had taken all his willpower to appear unaffected while his mind spun with shaky excitement. He had to reel himself in to not act in haste, but to listen first. Had Augusto finally grown careless enough to send his own son to finish him off, rather than the hero complex riddled fools who still occasionally dared to enter the mountains?

Turned out he hadn’t. Instead of getting an admission of a murderous plot against him, the boisterous prince had broken down in front of him. Lapping up the tiniest gestures of kindness Deceit gave him like he was dying of thirst. Apparently the Alveraz family couldn’t touch anything without destroying it, including their own children.

What a surprise.

So he had soothed the prince that wept in his lap, and carried him to his home. All the while his mind raced. When he finally placed the sleeping prince upon the cot in his laboratory, his plan slowly started to take form.

Now he only had to convince his guest to aid him. It wouldn’t be difficult. The prince already carried the pain of the rejection from his peers. All Deceit had to do was feed that resentment. Cultivate that hurt like a garden, placing a couple oh so carefully phrased suggestions to plant that seed of rebelling in his head. Sway him that Deceit was the only person left to trust. Until the prince was convinced it was his own idea to reject his former life and companions, without ever realizing someone else pulled at the strings attached to his wrists.

Deceit was an excellent puppet master, after all.

It would take him… three weeks? Or a month at most, until he had the little prince think what Deceit wanted him to. Easy. He had done this exact same thing a thousand times before. All he had to do after that was teach the prince all the tools he needed for his little coup, which hopefully would not take too long. And then… Then Deceit would claim his repayment.

He allowed himself a small smile. This is what he did best, maybe even more than the magic singing inside his veins. What was his magic but an extension of his mind? No matter how dire the situation was, no matter how much he was deprived of resources, he could always rely on his mind.

…But he shouldn’t become arrogant. He would rather die a hundred painful deaths than admit it, but he too made… mistakes (ugh). His unwavering trust in his own abilities had cost him greatly before.

This time he wouldn’t allow for any loose threads. This might very well be his last chance! He couldn’t afford to repeat his past mistakes. Not like with-

Tired eyes, darkened by the circles underneath them, looking up at him through unkempt bangs with an exasperated, but undeniably fond smile-

Deceit opened his eyes, taking in the soft light of the sunrise. He snarled at the twinge of his heart, weak little traitor that it was.

“Just don’t get attached again,” He sighed impatiently. “Then it should be fine.”

He stood at his window for a long time, taking in the view he had memorized to its finest details by now. Maybe he should see where Eris had slithered of to-

Deceit startled, whipping around and listening intently. From somewhere in the castle, the faint but distinct sounds of things falling, crashing, and breaking floated up towards his bedchambers.

It appeared that his guest was awake at last.

“Right,” Deceit cracked his fingers. “Showtime.”

--

After walking for about five minutes, Remus realized the one flaw in his otherwise brilliant plan.

It was night time. His gorgeous scaley paramour was most likely asleep.

A bit miffed Remus turned to go back to his room, only to realize he had NO idea where he was. With no other plan he choose a hallway at random, figuring that if he just tried every door he came across eventually he would find his chambers… Right?

An hour later he concluded that his plan was easier said than done. Remus looked between two identical hallways for a few minutes, before he had to admit it.

He was lost. And an idiot.

With no other choice Remus continued to explore. His wish to go back to his rooms gradually disappeared though as he ventured deeper and deeper into the castle. He hadn’t exactly paid attention to the castle itself before, distracted as he was. Now he   curiously took everything in. Unlike the rigid brick structure of his home, every room appeared to be carved into the mountain itself, much like his bedchambers were. In the dim candlelight of the candelabra Remus went down grand staircases, opened doors and traversed through many, many rooms. His footsteps echoed as he walked through a grandiose ballroom, ceiling high windows casting pale moonlight onto the floor, where tiny crystals glittered in the stone. From the ballroom he came into a dark lofty foyer, where sculptured pillars sprawled out into the darkness. Entranced Remus let his hand glide down one such pillar. The engraving pictured a dragon and a snake entwined together in breath taking detail.

Seriously, how big was this place?? Granted, his future lover to be deserved all the rooms and luxury in the world, but most of the rooms he came across were either empty, really dusty or a combination of both.

In the minutes that slowly ticked into hours Remus didn’t encounter a living soul, aside from some spiders in a corner. Not even mice or rats. A castle as big as this would attract rodents! Remus secretly fed the rats that ran through the walls of his home, he should know.

…Did his one true love eat the mice?

That thought made Remus stop in his tracks. Well, he was a snake... And so far he hadn’t encountered a kitchen yet. He tilted his head at the mental images… But then he shrugged.

“If he does eat mice, I will fully support him!” Remus proudly declared to the dark hall. “Probably very nutritious, those tiny cheese eating bastards…” He continued in a mutter as he pulled open another door. He vaguely wondered if he might accidentally stumble upon the room where the warlock slept. Probably in one of those grand beds with black silk sheets that perfectly frame his body-

Nope nope nope, shoving that thought away NOW. Remus quickly opened another door to distract himself.

Aha, finally some different interior! This room was quite packed with stuff. A LOT of stuff even! The room had to be some sort of library or storage room, as a circle of nearly ceiling high bookcases took up most of the space of the quite spacious room. Curiously Remus stepped inside. Through the windows Remus saw that the sky was brightening into hues of pink and orange, welcoming the rising sun. It gave him more light to inspect the room and its peculiar contents. Empty bottles, old books and skulls, mostly animal but some human were haphazardly strewn about the shelves, stuffed among boxes and some miscellaneous things. Remus saw a dusty lute, its strings flaccid from disuse, cauldrons black with soot and rolls with parchment that looked like they would crumble to dust if Remus were to touch them. A black suit of armour, detailed with gold-leaf, stood against the far end of the wall.

Remus gave a low whistle as he slowly circled around, craning his head to take in the large bookcases-

He stopped dead in his tracks. Suspended from the ceiling hung a skeleton. It was so large that it stretched out over the whole room. Remus’ jaw dropped.

Holy shit, was that the skeleton of a whale??

“…That’s not real!” Remus said, as he looked starry-eyed at the skeleton. “Can’t be! How the hell would he get it all the way up here on a fucking mountain??” Or was it real?? “No, no, it’s clearly fake! Not real!”

…Or was it?

One second Remus was staring up at the skeleton. The next thing he knew he had put down his candelabra and was climbing already halfway up one of the bookcases. He had to know, he HAD to know!!

When he reached the top shelf he stretched out his hand towards the skeleton. Damn it, it was still out of his reach! Frustrated he swung his arm to and fro, constantly missing his prize by a few centimetres. Come on, come on! He thought as he stretched out on his tippy toes. Almost! Almoooooost…

A piece of dust tickled his nose. Remus scrunched up his face, trying to repress the rising urge to-

“ACHOO!!” Remus’ sneeze echoed in the large room and shook through his body. The bookcase wobbled. Remus froze. Uh-oh.

“No. Nononononono-!” He pleaded as he felt the bookcase tip ever so gently backwards. He tried to wiggle it back in his place, but to no avail. With a cursed out shout Remus’ grip on the wood slipped. His stomach lurched as he plunged down and made hard contact with the stone floor. Sharp pain shot through his wrist. Remus cursed, cradling his arm close. His wrist however was the least of his concerns, as the bookcase tilted further and loomed over him. Remus paled as he saw the contents begin to slide. In a rain of bottles, books and boxes Remus had to half roll, half run out of harm’s way. One book landed painfully on his skull, but he came out of the downpour of years of clutter with no further injury. Remus breathed out in relief, but he was too quick. The bookcase heavily crashed against the second bookcase, which also started to dangerously tilt over.

“Nonononononono-!!” Remus desperately shook his head, holding out his uninjured hand as if to force the bookcase upright. To no avail. With a wooden groan the second bookcase lurched over, its contents gliding out and smashing to bits on the on the floor. And much like his predecessor it slammed into the third bookcase.

Helplessly Remus ran around as if to delay the inevitable, but in the end he could only look on horrified as the bookcases fell down one by one like a row of dominos, emptying their content with enthusiastic cacophony. Remus shrunk at every loud CRASH, every bottle that shattered and scattered glass over the floor. The vibrations through the floor made the suit of armour at the wall tremble.

“No, no, no please-!!” Remus wailed as he saw the helmet wobble.

With one final loud CLANG and BANG, the suit of armour fell to pieces on the floor. The helmet rolled over and came to a stop at Remus’ feet, who stood amidst the rubble like the last survivor of a grievous battlefield. Paralyzed as a rabbit staring down the wolf’s jaw, Remus took in the wreckage he caused. One final bottle slid down from the pile of books it landed on and doused Remus’ feet with glass.

“Okay, you know what?” Remus said with all the hysterical brightness of gambler who suddenly realized that he was playing a losing game. “New plan, new plan! I’m going to hide somewhere deep and dark,” He turned. “And hope he’ll never find me-!” “Good morning.” Deceit said calmly to his face.

“HOLY FUCK!!!” Remus flailed backwards screeching, tripped over the helmet and made a very ungraceful landing in a pile of what used to be several functioning bookcases. Remus cursed under his breath, tried to sit up, only to have another bookshelf give way underneath him, causing a pang of sharp pain to shoot through his banged up wrist. Letting out a fresh litany of curses, Remus finally managed to haul himself up in a sitting position amongst his created chaos. He gawked with open mouth at the sudden appearance of the most gorgeous man on earth the warlock, who gave him a very unimpressed look. When the fuck he did get here??

“Heh heh,” Remus nervously laughed. “You are…” He waved his hand up and down, trying to find a word. Stunning. Sexy. Hot as hell. “So quiet!” He settled on.

Deceit’s mouth quirked up in a small smirk and Remus swallowed thickly. Oh fuck… he got prettier. How the hell was that even possible??

“I try my best.” Deceit said dryly. Remus repressed the shiver that wanted to creep over his spine because of that oil-slicked voice. He wanted to crawl into the other’s throat and build his nest in those vocal cords just so he could listen to that voice always-

Any other dreamy visions instantly died when Deceit looked away from him, and instead took the room in slowly, examining the wreckage with a slight frown. Oh no.

“Care to explain to me,” Deceit said as he looked back at Remus. “What exactly happened here?” Remus suddenly thought that he maybe he should have just flung himself down a cliff when he had the chance.

“Uuuh… What happened? Did something happen, I don’t know-! What is a happening anyway-??” Remus babbled as he scrambled up from the mess in a fluster of uncoordinated limbs. When he finally stood he looked bamboozled at the shambled room like he hadn’t noticed it before. “Oh, this!” He laughed and turned to the other man with all the convincing act of a background actor in an amateur play. “I assure you, there’s a, uum… Perfectly reasonable explanation for all of this!”

Deceit raised an eyebrow. “Oh is there?” He asked amusedly.

“Hmm-hmm!” Remus nodded vigorously with a large grin.

“Well do tell!” Deceit said, as he waved his arms in an inviting gesture. “I’m all ears.”

Remus blanched. “Uuuuh…” He said, his mind racing. “Right! Yes! Okay, so get this-”

Words left his mouth without stopping by his brain first to say hello. Remus wasn’t sure what he was babbling on about as the minutes passed, but cut him some slack! The warlock’s calm attention made him more nervous than any yelling had ever done. He really wasn’t used to this. Usually people didn’t give him the time to explain himself! They just saw a mess, assumed he did it and started screaming. Not the warlock though. Deceit just listened, his hands resting in the small of his back, one eyebrow elegantly raised and an amused little smile playing on his lips while Remus kept spouting bullshit. God, what the fuck was he even saying anymore? He had no idea! Better end it quickly.

“-And that’s how it all happened, thank you very much, the end!” Remus squeezed out with his final breath. With a large gulp he leaned on his legs, wheezing slightly. Deceit tilted his head in thought.

“So… Just to recap,” The warlock said after a few seconds. “An army of gnomes broke through the window, had an orgy on my bookcases before summoning a demon, trashing the room and flinging themselves out the window whilst using their deal with the demon to magically fix the windows?”

…Fuck. Was that what he had been saying? Roll with it, roll with it.

“Yup!” Remus squeaked.

Deceit gave a short hum as he pursed his lips in thought. Remus allowed hope to flare up in his chest. Was he actually going to get away with this??

“You know,” Deceit said slowly. “For someone who’s very good at lying to himself, you are absolutely horrible at lying to other people.”

Aaaaaaand that hope died a gruesome bloody death. Right, well, Remus would say it was nice knowing himself, but that would be a lie.

“So, try again,” Deceit’s eyes hardened. “What happened?”

Remus crumbled into himself, wringing his hands together. “Well, I-!” He started, but stopped when Deceit raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t test me, little prince.” The warlock said evenly. He didn’t need to raise his voice to make Remus squirm. “I… I wanted to know if the skeleton on the ceiling was real…” Remus finally admitted in defeat as he pointed upwards at the skeleton in question.

“Right,” Deceit said with nod. “So did you satisfy your curiosity?”

“No… Because the bookcase I tried to climb fell over… Which made the other bookcase fall over, and then that one made the third one fall over, before-” No, stop talking. No one wants to listen to your stupid rambling, moron. “You get the picture…” He finished in a mutter.

“And there it is… The truth.” The warlock hummed. “Was that so hard?”

Remus didn’t answer. He kept from flinching when the warlock stepped closer by sheer force of will alone.

“Now. What to do with you…”

Remus stared at his feet. He knew what was coming next. He bit his lip, braced himself-

“Are you hurt?”

Remus blinked up at him. “…What-?”

“Are you hurt?” Deceit repeated patiently.

“I…” Remus stared. Wait… That’s… definitely not the direction this should go. “Not… Not really, I guess-?” He finally said, ignoring the dull ache in his wrist. That hardly even counted as hurt.

“Good.” Deceit smiled. He snapped his fingers, his eyes briefly flaring gold. A rumble erupted from the room behind him and Remus turned, only to gape when the room slowly started to rebuild itself. Bookcases righted themselves with a groan, the fractures in the wood disappeared in a golden glow, broken bottles fused back with a sharp singing sound. Remus had to duck when books flung themselves back to their original places; the suit of armour assembled itself back together. Remus was pretty sure he had to pick up his jaw from the floor when within a minute the room was completely spotless, like nothing had ever happened.

Heh, wouldn’t that be funny? If his jaw literally dislocated itself from his face to leave behind a gaping, bloody hole with only his wagging tongue left-

NO. No, that wasn’t a Roman thought! Focus!

“Well, that was that,” Deceit interrupted his thoughts. “Please refrain from climbing on tall things in the future. I would hate for you to break something I can not fix.”

Remus tore his bewildered wide-eyed look away from the newly restored room to stare back at the other. “You mean… Like the windows…?” He asked uncertainly. Deceit raised an eyebrow.

“I mean like your neck, dearie.”

Remus had no idea how to respond to that even if he wanted to. This was so far removed from how these kinds of conversations usually went for him that he was officially out of ideas.  

“Make no mistake,” Deceit said. “Next time you make a mess like this-”

Ah, right, now he would get the bodily threats, okay-

“-You will be cleaning it up yourself.”

…Or maybe not.

“And one more thing…”

Within the blink of an eye the warlock moved. Remus’ breath jittered to a stop when the other man was suddenly much closer, barely a hair width between them. Even without the golden glow Remus helplessly got lost in those fierce two-toned eyes.

“Do not lie to me again,” Deceit hissed, his fangs pushing out over his lower lip. “I do not appreciate being lied to, even when you are amazingly bad at it. Have I made myself clear?”

Remus’ heart thundered in his ears at the close proximity of the warlock. He drunk in every little detail that he had missed the first time, like how brightly yellow the left eye was. Or how the specks of gold in his hazel eye shimmered, as if his golden magic still shone through even without using it. Remus had thought they were about the same height, but this close he realized the warlock was juuuuuuust a smidge shorter than he was. He would have to lean down an eetsy-beetsy tiny bit to kiss those pretty lips. Remus had no idea why that little detail excited him so much, but it did.

“Super clear!” Remus squeaked, hoping to god he wasn’t blushing. Blushing was for the fucking weak. Deceit narrowed his eyes, giving him a sceptical glare. Remus tried to give him his best Roman-esque smile back. He couldn’t help but feel that on him it looked less charming and more like he was high off his ass.

“Right,” Deceit eventually said as he stepped away from him, and Remus bludgeoned down the urge to reach out and pull him back. “Are you hungry?”

Yes. Very hungry. Hungry for your DIC- “Yep! Definitely!” Remus brightly stopped his own head. “I could eat!”

Deceit gave him an odd look, but made no comment. “Come with me then.” He said as he waved him along. Remus followed him out of the room eagerly.

“Oh, and by the way,” Deceit threw a smile over his shoulder that made Remus’ legs all wobbly. “Yes. The skeleton is very much real.”

Remus swallowed. He was in so, so much trouble.

[integrationslady]

FMLS90 Week 6 Day 7 11/17

What would you do if money was not a barrier?

So I’m gonna take a minute here to plug @bitchesgetriches​. If you have literally any money related questions AT ALL, check out their blog and their site. They are awesome and helpful and smart and super easy to understand.

Why did I bring them up when I’m supposed to be talking about what I’d do with, essentially, unlimited money? It’s because of their Dollar Bill Game. Parts one and two are definitely worth a read, but the summary is that very few people can really comprehend money being no barrier. You try to answer it and you get stuck because you can’t actually comprehend what it would cost to do the things you’ve already listed or what else there is. But it’s pretty easy to answer the question what would you do with a little bit more.

So instead, they ask a series of questions starting with: What would you do if someone handed you a single dollar bill with no strings attached? The amount gets larger as you go, so by the end you’re basically answering the question “what would you do with unlimited funds”. In part two they talk about what your answers might mean, which is super insightful.

I’ve played the Dollar Bill Game in my head a few times while walking the dog or taking a shower, but I’m going to take this opportunity to go full boar and actually answer the whole thing (under the cut, it’s really long!).

If someone handed you a single dollar bill, right now, with no strings attached—what would you do with it?

Officially, it would be turned into quarters for pool the next time my friends and I are at the bar. In reality it would just be stuck in my wallet with no specific purpose, but a lot of those dollars end up turned into quarters for pool anyway.

What if it were a ten dollar bill?

This one’s easy - one extra lunch out one week. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, I hate packing lunch. I know it’s healthier, but 90% of the reason I make myself do it is actually on the financial side, so if I had just a tiny bit extra I’d absolutely use it there.

What if it were a one hundred dollar bill?

There just so happens to be $100 worth of Sephora that I really want. Whether it went there or like Scentsy or I spent it on better ski gloves than I have would depend on the timing, but there’s almost always something I want that I can probably afford but just can’t quite justify spending THAT much on when there are cheaper alternatives that are nearly as good. Sometimes I eventually buy those things anyway, so it’s easy to imagine that I’d throw this at it. Of course in reality I’d probably just end up sticking it in my wallet/the bank and rolling it into whatever else I was buying, maybe the “thing” maybe not. But if the person said “here’s $100 and I’m going to watch you spend it on something you normally wouldn’t buy”, there’d be a place for it.

What if it were one thousand dollars?

This would be split into four, maybe five, sections, maybe equal maybe not. First, some of it would go to my parents. I owe them money from a time in my life when they helped financially, like more than I’ll ever be able to repay. They’re OK with that as long as I continue to try, but tossing a little extra that way is never a bad idea. Second, some of it, maybe not much but some, would go into savings. Third, I’d want to use some of it to help someone, donate to someone’s Kickstarter or GoFundMe or whatever. Fourth, there are some things that I want for my apartment - a large ottoman, hidden litter boxes, and a kitchen island most notably. These are things I’m going to get anyway at some point, but with my current funds i need to save and/or hunt for bargains. With an extra $1000, I’d pick at least one of these things and just buy the one I want instead of worrying too much about whether it’s the best deal. And, maybe, fifth, something fun, like whatever I’d spend the $100 on.

What if it were ten thousand dollars?

Same as above, but on a larger scale, and also throw in a sixth - make some extra payments on my student loans. The super financially responsible thing to do would probably be to put it all toward student loans. But the thing about that is, $10K just wouldn’t make much dent in my loans. I mean it would, but it wouldn’t make any dent I noticed for quite a few years, so irresponsible or not I’d want to at least a little something I noticed right away. 

What if it were one hundred thousand dollars?

This would pay off my student loans and my one measly credit card with at least a couple thousand to spare, so I’d do that. That would give me extra money each month to do the above on a smaller scale, but for longer.

What if it were one million dollars?

With this much I could pay off all of my debt, all of my parents’ debt, most if not all of my sister’s debt, and probably still have enough to buy myself a house, or at least put a down payment on one. I talked the other day about how I’m not entirely sure I’d want that anyway, but since $1MM is not enough to get me to quit my job (especially after I pay off an entire family’s debt!) if I could get rid of my other bills the task of maintaining a house seems less daunting, mostly because I could pay people to take care of nearly everything for me. 

What if it were ten million dollars?

See, this is where it gets hard for me. I can do everything I want with one million, why do I need ten? With that much I’d definitely outright buy a house and hire a maid and groundskeeper and probably keep a handyman on retainer. I’d donate a lot of it - animal shelters and women’s shelters and GoFundMes and whatever else I could find. And it’d be really fun to take my friends on a vacation where they didn’t have to pay for anything. I even know where we’d go - Monterey California. I’ve been there once and I love it, and it’s close to Pebble Beach Golf Course which I don’t care about, but a lot of my friends do. This is something I’d think about trying to organize anyway, except a round of golf there costs like $400 and most of us get upset paying $17 for twilight golf here on a Tuesday evening, so even if we went there no one would golf. At $10MM I *might* quit working, but honestly I love my job and care about the company, I might stick it out a while longer. I would definitely exercise my stock options, though, something I feel like I may never be able to do currently. I’d probably offer to do the same for some of my friends/coworkers.

What if it were one hundred million dollars?

I feel like the next two are just gonna be “the last one but on a larger scale”. Donate more, definitely buy a house (and hire people to take care of it whenever necessary), help out my friends, definitely exercise like all the stock options, pay off debt for my entire family and maybe some of my friends... I still don’t know if I’d full on quit working, but maybe cut back to part time or take a leave of absence an travel some. Rescue so many cats and dogs. In fact at this point I’d maybe even quit my current job (after the stock thing, obvs) and buy a bunch of land to run a dog sanctuary, maybe some neighboring land for a cat rescue?

What if it were one billion dollars?

All of the above. Plus, and maybe I’d do this at $10MM but definitely here, maybe start some businesses around town that we’re lacking. Something to do other than just go to the bar, like mini golf or like a family fun center type place. A bigger better movie theater, maybe an actual sports bar to watch games. I think our town is too small for more than one or two businesses like that to be profitable enough for someone to make their living there, but it’s not like they wouldn’t be used at all. They’d be nice to have around, but I think they could only stay if the profit didn’t matter much.

[storytimewithcort]

Fresh Start (Part 7)

FRESH START PART 7

Fandom: Marvel, MCU

Basic Summary: Everyone’s favorite ol’ AU where we forget Infinity War ever happened! Loki and Thor are living with the Avengers because why not. Reader is hired to work for Tony and Pepper, and she and her son soon meet Loki. Etc Etc Etc - Part 7, reader starts to miss her daily interactions with Loki, while Loki expresses his feelings with help from Thor

Pairing: Loki x Reader (Single Mom Reader)

Warnings: nothing to report this time around

A/n: I have been been both busy with work and then super sick this past week. So, I have replayed certain conversations and scenes in my head multiple times, but have been able to write in a many days. Sorry for the wait. I do have part 8 partially done.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7

--------

The next three weeks flew by and you never had a chance to really talk to Loki about what had happened between the two of you that night you spent in the tower. You had started to the morning after, but you were only halfway through your cup of coffee when Pepper called you with questions about Jonas' typical breakfast routine. That broke the mood for sure, and you didn't know how to bring it back up. Loki seemed more than content to allow the topic subside. He quickly started to ask you instead about your plans for the day.

You wouldn't say it was awkward, it really wasn't or so you thought at first. When you did get a little time to spend with Loki you two were back to how you had been for weeks. You comfortably discussed books, old earth legends, or your four year old's naive yet uniquely philosophical views on everyday life. However, you were starting to think that you were seeing much less of Loki than you were now used to.

At first you didn't have time to take note of it. You were taking a class to get re-certified in CPR and first aid as well as working with Pepper to get Jonas into an unbelievably prestigious preschool program for the upcoming spring session. So you blamed the lack of Loki on your own schedule and didn't think too much of it. You barely had time to think for yourself anyway.

That changed starting two days ago when you felt like your life was winding back down to it's normal amount of crazy. You set both the kids down for a nap and were blessed that Jonas actually wanted to nap since he was starting to grow out of wanting to nap at all. You left the nursery hoping to find Loki in the kitchen area or outside on the balcony per usual, but he wasn't in either spot.

The same happened yesterday. And again when you went looking for him today. You sighed to yourself. Maybe he was avoiding you, or maybe you had been unintentionally avoiding him and he was now bored of you or upset with you. You decided a quick trip upstairs would be okay, you just had to make sure to avoid Tony as he didn't particularly like you leaving the floor with the kids.

As you entered to large common room upstairs you literally ran into the object of your search.

"Oh...Hi" you mumbled as you took a step back, trying to not focus on the hand Loki placed on your arm to help steady you.

"Can I help you with something Y/n?" He asked, looking down at you.

"Well, I just put the kids down for a little bit...Are you busy right now?" As you asked you were certain for a moment his eyes lit up in excitement, but he simply shook his head slowly at you. You notice how he's dressed in a warm jacket and scarf, even holding a pair or gloves in one hand and your stomach sunk.

"I'm afraid I am busy, Thor is taking me to see...something...I honestly wasn't paying attention to what, but he insists." Just then Thor comes around the corner and when you see him dressed for the weather too, you can't help but slump your shoulders a bit. "Rain check?" Loki offers in a more gentle tone.

"Only if that's what you want...I..uh..never mind then." You slipped back into the elevator and hoped you didn't look too disappointed in front of Loki. Just then the brothers entered into the elevator with you and before you could say anything else the doors shut and you forced yourself to stand up straight. Thor was as bubbly as ever and even offered you to join them on their trip, but you obviously had to decline.

As you made your way to step out of the elevator your hand brushed against Loki's unintentionally. His reflexes were astonishingly quick and he grabbed your hand in his before you could walk away. He held you in place for a brief moment making eye contact with you. Rubbing his thumb across your knuckles he repeated, "Rain check, I promise."

You nodded with a little smile and slipped away.

Outside the wind was harsh but it didn't really bother either brother as they made their way through the city. Thor led Loki through streets as if he knew they place as well as Asgard. A fact which Loki couldn't decide was impressive or a bit sad.

"Do we have to walk there through all these people? You're just going to get stopped every few feet by some adoring fan." Loki pouted as a group of teenagers practically tripped over themselves as Thor smiled in their direction.

Thor continued to smile and nod towards each passing onlooker. They were in fact stopped by a few people. To Loki's alleviation, not one of the fans seemed to notice much less recognize him. Once the men were more secluded street. Thor turned to Loki with a look that Loki dreaded. This was Thor's patented I know something face. It always caused Loki a headache.

"So..." Thor started, tone sickly sweet. "Y/n?"

"What about her?" Loki said flatly, the dull ache of annoyance settling in.

"You two seem...close." Thor commented, "Are you two together?"

Raising his eye brows, Loki scoffed, "I'm not talking about this with you."

"And who else would you talk to? I'm your only friend." Thor added, smacking Loki's shoulder lightly.

Loki simply walked a bit faster, putting a little distance between them as he tried not to acknowledge Thor's words. The cold weather suddenly as cold as the most arctic parts of Jotunheim. Or maybe it was just him. After all, there was truth behind Thor's statement, among other reasons. After a few minutes of silence, Loki reluctantly turned his head towards Thor.

"I don't know."

"You don't know if you have any friends or if you're with Y/n?" Thor teased.

Loki glared in Thor's direction, but continued anyway, "I don't know how to categorize my relationship with her."

"That's not hard to figure out. You obviously enjoy spending time with her. And she obviously likes spending time with you." Thor beamed.

"So you're saying I do in fact have another friend." Loki laughed hollowly.

"Loki..."

"Look," Loki sighed, "We have had...moments...of flirtation and romance. However, there will not be anymore in the future. I assure you."

"Does she know that? She seemed excited when she came upstairs specifically to find you today." Thor's voice grew at bit more interested.

Loki took a moment to gather his words correctly, "I think it's best for her if I leave her alone. She's clever, inquisitive, charming, and quite possibly has the kindest heart I've ever known."

"All of that sounds like good reasons to be with someone..."

"All good reasons for a good person to be with her. Not me."

"You're not a ba-" Thor started.

"I am a bad person." Loki cut Thor off with a side glance that emphasized his seriousness. "As honored as I am for your restored faith in me. I'm still viewed as a monster by most of this planet including Y/n's own employer. She has too much going for her to be bogged down by an association with me."

Thor's shoulders slumped a bit, unsure of how to argue Loki's sad point.

"Plus," Loki added, "She has a son, a family. I have a horrible track record with family. I've failed every one in my family at least once." He only paused to raise a finger in Thor's direction, cutting off Thor's words of encouraging disagreement before he could even voice them. "I've even failed you countless times, brother. I like Y/n far too much to hurt her or Jonas in the ways I know I'm capable of."

Thor made a noise of solemn disgruntlement and Loki thought for a fleeting moment that Thor might actually understand what he was feeling for once.

"So..." Thor started quietly, "When do you plan on telling her any of this."

"I've been trying to distance myself from her for a couple weeks now. However whenever I do see her, I forget all about distancing myself. I swear I can't say 'no' to her and I can't keep myself away from her. I hate it." Loki looked down at the ground as he spoke.

"That's because you like her." Thor mused, drawing out the word 'like' longer than necessary.

At the comment a small rock came flying out of nowhere directly at Thor's face, hitting him in the temple. Loki sent another pebble towards Thor, this one hitting him on the side of his left arm.

As Thor looked around the street to find where the rocks came from, Loki let out a small chuckle. "I already told you I like her. Weren't you listening?"

Brushing his arm as if to remove the nonexistent dust the second rock left behind Thor spoke, "I think I understand your concerns. But, you cannot make this decision for her. If you like her and she likes you. She deserves a say in whether or not your relationship moves forward. I say you tell her your concerns and see how she feels. I have a feeling she doesn't see you as a monster at all."

"I did not ask for your advice."

"Ah but you get it! It's my privilege as the older brother to impart my wisdom." Thor boomed, giving Loki another strong pat on the shoulder as Loki rolled his eyes.

After Thor finished showing Loki an museum exhibition on viking history, they finally made it back to the tower in the early evening. It turned out Thor's only interest was the few references on various artifacts to each of them, proving that at least at one time many humans saw both Thor and Loki as godly heroes, not monsters at all. Against his better judgment, all Loki could think about while they wandered around the exhibit was how you'd enjoy seeing it yourself.

As they entered the lobby the elevator was opening to you and Jonas making your way to leave.

"Hi Mr. Snake! Hi Mr. Thor!" Jonas chimed excitedly when he saw them.

"Why hello Master Jonas! How are you this fine evening?" Thor returned in a matching level of excitement.

"Momma says I can have noodles for dinner!" Jonas explained.

"That sounds lovely, I always loved noodles myself. I've got an idea." Thor offered, "How about I get Natasha or Bruce to order us noodles. They understand phones better than I do. Then you both can stay here for dinner. I could even let Jonas play with my helmet." Thor looked at Loki with a huge grin.

You shifted in your shoes, "I don't want to impose. There's a Thai place a block from our apartment, we can just pick something up there. Plus, I'd rather get Jonas home before it's any darker out."

"But Momma! Mr. Thor promised to show me a super hero helmet!" Jonas pleaded, tugging on your shirt sleeve.

"If your worried about traveling too late, Loki would accompany you home make sure you all made it home safely." Thor continued, eyeing Loki excitedly.

You glance between Jonas and Loki for a moment before relenting. "Ok."

"Yeeessssss!" Jonas screamed, running back into the elevator. Once inside he turned back and waved his little hand in his direction, "come on come on."

"You guys heard the boy," you laughed softly. Turning back to the elevator.

Sure enough, Natasha was around when you all reached the common area upstairs. She seemed surprised to see you, but was pleased. After ordering a impressive spread from a local Italian restaurant, you all just had to wait about half an hour. Thor kept his promise and brought out his armor and helmet. Jonas thought it was the coolest thing he's ever seen and proceeded to wear the way to big helmet with glee as he fumbled around the room.

You settled into a spot on a side of one of the couches to watch as Thor played well with Jonas and even somehow convinced Bruce to join in. Once food arrived you all ate as one odd, disjointed family.

By the time Jonas had eaten enough alfredo rotini to rival Thor, you saw the telltale signs of a toddler ready to pass out asleep at any moment. You quickly thanked everyone and started to gather your belongings. Ignoring the puzzled looks from Natasha and Bruce as he got up from the table to follow you, Loki made his way to you across the room.

"I can escort you home." He said as he reached your side.

You turned to face him and instantly blushed at his proximity. This is the closest you had been to him since you were literally in his lap and you couldn't stop your self from thinking about just that. He obviously noticed your blush, because he smirked and raised an eyebrow at you. You shook your head in a way to calm your self and nodded more directly to Loki.

"I'd love that."

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

Lovely people: @1v-kayla , @unicorniorosacomefrutillas, @jessiejunebug, @hiddlestonstansworld, @hey-liz-hey, @fortheloveofallthatsholy, @perceptorxbrainstorm, @kinghiddlestonanddixon, @ godhateskyleigh, @illogicalfangirl and hopefully I didn’t miss anyone.

---

[douchebagbrainwaves]

IF YOU CAN FIND JUST ONE USER WHO REALLY NEEDS SOMETHING AND CAN ACT ON THAT NEED, YOU'VE GOT A TOEHOLD IN MAKING SOMETHING PEOPLE WANT THAT MATTERS, NOT JOINING THE GROUP

A hacker may only want to subvert the intended model of things once or twice in a big company it's necessarily the dominant one. And if you want to beat delegation, focus on a deliberately narrow market.1 We wrote what was, 700 years ago, fascinating and urgently needed work. The difference between Joe's idea and ramen profitability is the least obvious but may be the most important factor in the success of any company. VCs to invest in their portfolio companies. They just had us tuned out. The wrong people like it. As an outsider, you're just one step away from getting things done.2 These people might be your employees, or you have to make a lot of squawking coming from my hen house one night, I'd want to go straight there, blustering through obstacles, and hand-waving your way across swampy ground.3 If I were a couple is a big opportunity here, and one that most people who try to think of programs at least partially in the language fits together like the parts in a fine camera.4

It's easy to see how little launches matter. But surely a necessary, if not better, at least. They haven't decided what they'll do afterward. Fritz Kunze's official biography carefully avoids mentioning the L-word. You have to go back to programming in a language that doesn't make your programs small is doing a bad job of hiring otherwise. In the real world, you can't repeal totalitarianism if it turns out you can do all-encompassing redesigns. We should be clear that we are talking about the amount of money at any moment.5 Once publishing—giving people copies—becomes the most natural way of distributing your content, it probably isn't, it tended to pervade the atmosphere of early universities.

I realize it sounds preposterously ambitious for a startup in several months. If you take VC money, they won't let you sell early. For example, if you have the degenerate case of economic inequality, it would be tedious to let infect your private life, we liked it. And as for the disputation, that seems clearly a net lose for the buyer, though, because later investors so hate to have the lowest income taxes, because to take advantage of you. Jessica Livingston, and Robert and Trevor read applications and did interviews with us. For example, it would keep going, but there are signs it might be.6 They remind us where we come from. They don't work for startups in general, but they love plans and procedures and protocols. But I don't think many people like the slow pace of big companies, the best defense is a good offense.

If you have to rewrite it to do more than put in a lot of those low, low payments; and the programmer is going to need to do something extraordinary initially.7 The Pebbles assembled the first several hundred watches themselves.8 The reason investors can get away with being nasty to. The evolution of technology. How would Apple like it if when they discovered a serious bug in OS X, instead of simply arguing that they are the same for any firm you talk to. Let me conclude with some tactical advice. They haven't decided what they'll do afterward. I had a choice of a spending the next hour wandering about, was there any sort of work I liked that much.

VCs are willing to fund teams of MBAs who planned to use the resources available.9 The paperwork for convertible debt is simpler. Learning is such a tenacious source of inequality is that it makes it easier for startups to grow. In cold places that margin gets trimmed off. There is no longer much left to copy before the language you've made is Lisp. Do not, however, tell A who B is. Perl is as big as the ones I've discussed, don't make a direct frontal attack on it.

Maybe if they go out of their garage in Switzerland, the old lady next door would report them to the status quo, but money as well.10 Jessica was its mom. Hacking is something you write in order to read Aristotle.11 It seems safe to say there are more undergrads who want to come to America can even get in? They want there to be a deal; so there must be a reason. Whichever route you take, expect a struggle.12 Want to make someone dislike a book?13 You had to grow fast. Not necessarily. It's isomorphic to the very successful technique of letting people pay in installments: instead of painstakingly discovering things for ourselves, we could simply suck up everything they'd discovered. After further testing, it turned out to be an old and buggy one.

You'll certainly like meeting them. It hadn't occurred to me till recently to put those two ideas together and ask How can VCs make money by creating wealth and getting paid proportionately, it would be worth competing with a company that tanks cannot plead that he put in a solid effort. It's striking how often programmers manage to hit all eight points by accident.14 But it would not be for most biotech startups, for example. Wealth can be created without being sold. In a sense, at least for a while in Florence. But it's harder than it looks.15 For example, one way or the other, like a skateboard. If you ever got me, you wouldn't have a clue what to do, because it will have a large Baumol penumbra around it: anyone who could get them published.16 If you take VC money, they won't let you. Money is a side effect of making them celebrities.17 Cross out that final S and you're describing their business model.18

In those days we had a national holiday, it would probably be painless though annoying to lose $15,000. Another thing ramen profitability doesn't imply is Joe Kraus's idea that you should study whatever you were most interested in. I wasn't even learning what the choices were, let alone which to choose.19 Before we had kids, YC was more or less our life.20 In my case they were effectively aversion therapy. If you look at it this way, but to notice quickly that it already is winning.21 And when you see something that's merely reacting to new technology in an attempt to preserve some existing source of revenue. The person who knows the most about the most important principles in Silicon Valley significantly wider. But schools change slower than scholarship: the study of ancient texts had such prestige that it remained the backbone of education until the late 19th century. Think of some successful startups. Partly because some companies use mechanisms to prevent copying.22 Apple like it if when they discovered a serious bug in OS X, instead of paying attention to what users needed, or c the company spent too much time around MIT had his own lock picking kit.23

Notes

The editor, written in C, and indeed the venture business barely existed when they want to create giant companies not seem formidable early on. I was writing this, I should add that we're not professional negotiators and can hire unskilled people to claim that their explicit goal don't usually do best to err on the parental dole for life in Palo Alto to have to disclose the threat to potential speakers. One year at Startup School David Heinemeier Hansson encouraged programmers who wanted to make it harder for Darwin's contemporaries to grasp this than we can respond by simply removing whitespace, periods, commas, etc. Steven Hauser.

Basically, the LPs who invest in it.

Well, of S P 500 CEOs in the Neolithic period. Within an hour most people come to you; who knows who you might see something like the intrusive ads popular on Delicious, but you should. Though in a place where few succeed is hardly free. 16%.

So if it's dismissed, it's probably good grazing. Mueller, Friedrich M.

Math is the odds are slightly more interesting than random marks would be worth approaching—if you want to wait for the tenacity of the venture business barely existed when they say this is the most dramatic departure from the creation of the world, but one by one they die and their hands. It seems we should be working on what you launch with, you won't be trivial. So it's hard to grasp the distinction between money and wealth. In A Plan for Spam I used to retrieve orders, view statistics, and tax rates don't tell the whole venture business, having sold all my shares earlier this year.

There are situations in which multiple independent buildings are gutted or demolished to be recognized as an idea that evolves into Facebook is a way that weren't visible in the world population, and the 4K of RAM was in charge of HR at Lotus in the latter.

This is an instance of a problem later. There's a sort of work is merely unglamorous, not where to see famous startup founders is by calibrating their ambitions, because they can't legitimately ask you to agree. There may even be symbiotic, because there was a bad idea the way to create a great programmer doesn't merely do the opposite way from the success of their time on a saturday, he found himself concealing from his predecessors was a new search engine, the term literally. Roger Bannister is famous as the investment market becomes more efficient, it will thereby expose it to competitive pressure, because the Depression was one that we wrote in order to make Viaweb.

San Jose. Like early medieval architecture, impromptu talks are made of spolia. The Quotable Einstein, Princeton University Press, 1983.

Emmett Shear, and they succeeded.

This is a facebook exclusively for college students. Any plan in 2001, but you get paid much.

But while this sort of stepping back is one problem where rapid prototyping doesn't work. For the price of a city's potential as a kid was an executive.

E-Mail. Instead of making the things you sell.

Hackers don't need that recipe site or local event aggregator as much time it filters down to zero, which was acquired for 50 million, and he was notoriously improvident and was troubled by debts all his life. He did eventually graduate at about 26. Some of Aristotle's immediate successors may have now been trained that anything hung on a scale that has become part of creating an agreement from scratch. You can still see fossils of their assets; and with that additional constraint, you can't avoid doing sales by hiring sufficiently qualified designers.

If they were.

No VC will admit they're influenced by confidence. A P supermarket chain because it has to grind.

To a kid. So where do we draw the line? I'm using these names as we think.

And perhaps even worse in the computer, the only companies smart enough to convince at one point a competitor added a feature to their software that doesn't have to act against their own itinerary through no-land, while we were quite sore from VCs attempting to probe our nonexistent database orifice. Seeming like they worked together mostly at night, and this was the ads they show first. Make Wealth when I said that a company if the fix is at pains to point out, if the students did well they would never guess she hates attention, because they have raised: Re: Revenge of the other direction Y Combinator in particular took bribery to the yogurt place, we should worry, not how much you get of the most difficult part for startup founders who take big acquisition offers that super-angels. Ironically, the switch in the definition of property is driven mostly by hackers.

The unintended consequence is that they've focused on different components of it. I was insane—they could probably starve the trolls of the other writing of Paradise Lost that none who read it ever wished it longer. If you look at what Steve Jobs got pushed out by Mitch Kapor, is rated at-1. No, we don't want to take care of one's markets is ultimately just another way in which practicing talks makes them overbuild: they'll create huge, analog brain state.

After a while we were quite sore from VCs attempting to probe our nonexistent database orifice. I got it wrong in How to Make Wealth when I became an employer. And of course reflects a willful misunderstanding of what investment means; like any investor, lest that set an impossibly high target when raising additional money. Instead of the reason this trick works so well.

If a man has good corn or wood, or some vague thing like that. Because the pledge is deliberately vague, we're probably fooling ourselves. Money, prestige, and average with the other sense of mission.

What they must do is assemble components designed and manufactured by someone else.

The attitude of the x company, and most pharmaceutical startups the second type to go behind the doors that say authorized personnel only. Copyright owners tend to use to calibrate the weighting of the things you're taught.

When I talk about startups.

[multi-purpose-tool-guy]

Ooh ooh Kylux and 18. Pretty please.

Okay so this one definitely got away with me, it’s 3.5k and somehow wandered into kidfic benarmie territory? I hope that’s alright, the idea bit me (or should I say stung me? ;) ) and I couldnt let it go!! 

also this is a modern au and they reference star wars, but Han’s name is still Han so um, ~~~magical realm where both exist~~~

warnings for winnie the pooh references and abusing the italics function.

18. “This is by far the stupidest plan you’ve ever had. Of course I’m in.”

Crash Bandicoot is squashed flat under a huge digital boulder for the third time in a row, the screen of his little boxy tv flashing an obnoxious yellow GAME OVER. Ben groans and tosses his Playstation controller into the empty beanbag chair opposite the one he’s sinking into. He’s been working on this level for two whole days now and it’s way too hard, and that boulder is stupid. He’s halfway standing and contemplating walking over to Rey’s house and making her play knights with him when he hears something tap sharply against his window.

It taps two more times before he can un-fuse from the beanbag chair, so hard it’s rattling the glass. When it taps a fourth time and he peers down into his backyard he scowls, hoping his annoyance is clear through the glass. Hux is throwing rocks at his window from across the fence that divides their backyards, which is fine, except he’s using his fancy slingshot his dad got him for Christmas last year and Ben has told him a million times not to. The last time he knocked a pebble-sized hole in the glass Ben had told his mom that a woodpecker flew over and thought his science project sitting on his desk was a real tree (because he’d done such a good job painting it, with hardly any help at all) and pecked through his window to get to it, and he’s pretty sure she won’t believe him if he tells her it happened again.

He wrenches the window open angrily and snaps out, “What?” He’s about to yell at him about the slingshot again but he stops short when Hux stares up at him with his face all screwed up and splotchy red.

“Ben!” He shouts up at him, high-pitched and almost whining; A very bad sign, Hux never whines. “Millie got out!”

Ben freezes. This is bad. This is really bad. He’s pretty sure Hux loves that cat more than he loves his parents, and Ben’s iguana is super cool and all and his parents are kinda lame, but, dang. Ben knows that Millie is strictly an inside cat (he’s been yelled at to keep the doors closed when he goes over enough times, that’s for sure), and if she got out then that means Hux is about five minutes away from a meltdown, maybe even less.

“Where’d she go?” He shouts down to Hux, straight to business. He’d only seen Hux get this worked up once before, when a girl in their class pushed him on the playground and said nasty things about his orange hair. He was really upset, grabbing handfuls of dirt and squeezing it tight, but she came back from recess to a dead frog in her lunchbox and had to go home early, she was crying so much. Nobody in all of fourth grade wanted to sit next to him after that, except for Ben, who begged Miss Sloane to let him move seats and sit closer to him. When Ben got home later that day he told his parents very firmly that orange was his new favorite color.

Hux just purses his lips and points up at the tree that sits right up against Ben’s fence and hangs over both yards, where his treehouse sits high up and exactly halfway over each yard.

Oh crap.

Ben turns from the window and snags a grey hoodie from the corner of his desk chair, stepping into his chucks and not stopping to tie them as he bolts down the stairs.

–

They’re standing shoulder to shoulder in Ben’s yard, looking up at Millie’s huddled fluff through the leaves and Hux squirming at his side, wringing his hands. He told Ben that his father’s stupid new girlfriend left the door open to bring groceries in from the car and she’d run out into the yard, and straight up the tree. It was their tree, because it held up their clubhouse, built by Ben and his dad but painted and ‘supervised’ by Hux. The wood was spray-painted a shiny silver and the words Starkiller Base were hand painted in big black letters that were only a little wobbly.

It would be easy to just climb up and coax her down, maybe have Hux hold out a blanket and catch her, if not for the humongous hornet’s nest that she’d somehow crawled behind. It had been up there for almost a month, his dad kept promising to go knock it down but never getting around to it, and he and Hux had to meet up in a popup tent in Hux’s backyard in the meantime. It’s a cool tent, but it’s just not the same.

“She’s going to get stung Ben, they’re going to sting her, what if she’s allergic?” Hux sounds like a strange mix of frantic and angry, looking anxiously between the buzzing nest and Millie, hunched small and mewling miserably.

“They won’t sting her unless she’s dumb and messes with them or something,” Ben says, trying to think of a way to fix this that has Hux thanking him and not whichever parent they end up having to call to come help them. His mom warned him about playing out here while that thing was still up there, but he thinks Hux is definitely worth getting grounded over. “Also I don’t think cats can have allergies.”

Hux snaps his head to snarl at him. “Millie is not dumb, she’s perfect, and cats can too have allergies, my nan’s cat Ziggy is allergic to dry food.” The end of his sentence lilts like he’s enlightening Ben in some fact that Hux only knows because he’s smarter than him, and Ben hates when he talks like that.

“He’s not allergic, he’s just a spoiled brat, like some other cat I know.” He bites back. He knows Hux is upset and snappy right now but Ben is not dumber than some stupid cat. Even if it’s Millie.

“Take that back right no-” Hux cuts himself off with a gasp as Millie takes a shaky step forward and stumbles, clinging lower and tighter to the branch where she’s perched. The nest sits between her and the trunk of the tree, the branch thin and flimsy underneath her.

Hux is letting out a high-pitched sound that Ben knows from experience comes right before the tears start, and it’s like Ben’s not even there anymore, angry retort forgotten and replaced with loud, blaring fear. Ben looks up at Millie, ears pushed back and tail fluffed up like a toilet brush, and sighs. He knows what he has to do, and even though it sucks he knows that a few hornet stings will be worth it if it makes Hux dry his tears, maybe even smile, just for him.

Ben’s gonna be his hero, and Hux better appreciate his bravery and awesome tree-climbing skills.

“I have an idea.”

Hux whips his head around to look at him fiercely. “What is it?”

“I saw it in a cartoon once, it’s gonna sound dumb but hear me out okay?” The look on Hux’s face is anything but encouraging, but Ben continues. “So basically, oh. Wait,” He stops, looking around the yard, before dashing inside through the sliding glass door. He comes back out moments later to Hux’s confused and screwed-up face clutching a throw pillow from the couch and his Darth Vader umbrella.  

“Okay. So. You’re gonna take this,” He thrusts the buttoned-up umbrella into Hux’s hands, “and you’re gonna walk around the tree and say ‘tut tut, looks like rain!’”

Hux stares at him, hands wrapped around the umbrella. “Why.” He says it more like a statement than a question.

“Because then the hornets won’t be suspicious of a raincloud creeping up on them.” Ben says, hoping for Hux to catch on and stop looking at him like he’s crazy.

No such luck. “There are no rainclouds out right now, where’s this cloud exactly?”

Ben grins, gives Hux a wink, and shoves the couch cushion up under his hoodie, making him look bulky and hopefully cloud-shaped.

Hux stares at him. “That’s stupid.” Ben tries not to wilt.

“It’s not stupid, and it mostly worked in the cartoon so, like, it’s worth a shot-” 

Hux cuts him off. “It didn’t even work in the cartoon, if you’ll remember, and those were bees, not whatever those are, so it’s double-not-going-to-work.” Hux concludes, prim and snotty. “Triple-not-going-to-work, actually, because that’s a cartoon and this is real life. Obviously.”

“Are you in or what?” He snaps. “It’s not like we have any better ideas, and I can climb up and grab her before they even know I’m not a cloud-” He’s interrupted by angry tutting from Hux, who turns and looks up at Millie for a long moment before speaking.

“This is without a doubt the stupidest plan you’ve ever had,” His face softens when Millie cries louder down at them, before pinching up again. “Of course I’m in.”

Ben fist-pumps in victory silently behind Hux’s back and slowly makes his way to the base of the tree.

“You’ve got the easy job, and look, you’re already in costume.” He gestures to Hux’s shiny yellow rainboots, squeaking in the grass.

“Just shut up and climb the tree. Clouds can’t talk, you have to be believable.” Hux sneers, opening the umbrella. The weak sunlight makes his face glow an eerie red through the vinyl.

Ben takes a deep breath, and with one last look over his shoulder to check that his mom’s not in the kitchen, clambers up the little rope ladder.

The buzzing is a lot louder up here, and he has to force his limbs to move once he reaches the clubhouse. Suddenly he’d much rather stay inside the crooked wooden walls where it’s safe, but he’s got to be brave. If not for himself he’s got to be brave for Hux, who’s standing under the umbrella and looking up at him like he’s about to throw up on his shoes, sick with worry. He knows it’s for Millie but telling himself a little bit of it is for him gives him the strength to keep climbing.

He hooks a foot on the windowsill of the treehouse and hoists himself shakily onto the roof, the bulk under his sweater squishing beneath him. The buzzing is even louder, like the hornets are bouncing around angrily inside his head, and he lets out a shaky breath.

“I’m just a little black raincloud… pay no attention… to me…” He mutters as he crawls further, the nest dead ahead and menacing and Millie just behind it. He steps off the roof and onto a branch just underneath the one the nest dangles from, so that he’s about chest-level with it.

He takes a shaky step, arms outstretched and just shy of Millicent, when a thin branch snaps under his foot, jostling the whole section of tree. The buzzing crescendos and two or three angry little scouts fly out and dart around his face, staring him down.

“Hux!” He hisses as loud as he dares. “Say it!”

“This is stupid, we should just go get your dad-”

“Say it!” He pleads, squeezing his eyes shut when one of them lands on his nose to investigate.

He hears Hux sigh dramatically below him before finally an overdramatic, “Tut tut, looks like rain!”

He can hear Hux’s boots squelching in the mud and slowly opens his eyes when he feels the little investigator fly away, fooled by his very clever disguise. They seem to have flown back into their hive and he breaths out heavy, inching along further on his mission.

“Tut tut, looks like dumb rain,” Hux says again, and even with that dig at him it spurs him on. The hornets seem to be satisfied, and he just might kiss Hux if this works. Only we won’t, kissing is weird, and Hux probably wouldn’t want to kiss him anyway, that was dumb, nevermind, if this works he’ll, heck, maybe, do a backflip or something. Rey tought him how and then Hux would be even more impressed. 

A few more tiny steps and Millie is within reach, shaking and mewling louder when she recognizes him. Slowly and very gently he scoops her into his arms, inching back down the branch the way he came and already tasting victory; she’s tucked in one arm and holding onto the shoulder of his jacket for dear life, and he’s glad to have the padding protecting him from her claws. He hears Hux gasp in relief from the ground.

After what seems like an agonizingly long time he’s scooted past the nest undetected, and he climbs carefully back up onto the roof of the clubhouse. In relative safety, he lays on his stomach and carefully lowers Millie in through the window, where she’ll be safe until Ben can climb down. With a sigh of relief he stands, turns, makes to climb down himself.

When he takes a step forward the metal sheeting they used for the roof shifts, his foot sliding underneath him, and it yanks him off balance. The squeal of the metal must have tipped off the hornets and they zoom angrily out of the nest, flying around his face and ready to attack the suddenly person-shaped cloud intruding on their kingdom. He’s swatting frantically at them with a shout and loses his footing, falling backwards. All of his weight slams into the loose roof panel and with a scraping crash of metal he’s falling straight through and landing hard on the floor of the treehouse.

“Ben!” He hears Hux shout vaguely, shaking his head and groaning as seemingly all of his bones feel snapped in half. He landed hard on his back, the pillow underneath his hoodie doing nothing to cushion his fall. Some great idea that was.

He tries to push himself up on his hands and a scream is ripped from him, his right arm screaming right back at him in pain and feeling like Darth Vader himself has just sliced it off.

“Get my dad!” He shouts at the ceiling, now with a Ben-shaped hole busted through it. “Hux, go get my dad!”

Millie comes over from the corner she’d been huddled in and licks gently at his cheek, where his face is damp with tears he did not give his body permission to squeeze out. He doesn’t want Hux to see him cry, he wants to look tough and strong, but it freaking hurts.  He hears his dad’s gruff voice shouting for him so Hux must have heard him, and he just hopes he doesn’t end up getting grounded on top of having to get his arm amputated. Maybe they’ll at least let him get a cool robot arm, but cooler than Luke’s.

Before he can decide what color he wants his new arm to be his dad’s face is filling up the treehouse doorway, pinched up and angry.

“Kid I’ve told you not to play out here until I knock that thing down, what were you doing on the roof? You know that shit’s not nailed down, I’ll get to it but. Jesus,” He crawls in towards him when he catches sight of Ben’s arm, bent in an unnatural direction and now starting to throb and hurt very much seriously this hurts so much–

He hears Hux speaking frantically from outside and his dad snaps back at him, gingerly inspecting Ben’s arm. “Calm down Red, yes, there’s a cat in here, she’s fine.”

Seeing her exit route Millie bolts past Han and pauses briefly before leaping down, probably into Hux’s arms. Good. He did it, he rescued Millie, and now Hux will probably smile at him every day from now on and save a seat for him at the lunch table. He drops his head back against the hard wood floor, closing his eyes with a dreamy grin. Maybe he’ll let me hold his hand…

Suddenly his arm doesn’t hurt so much anymore, and all the excitement and heroic adrenaline is leaving him and he’s mostly just sleepy, a little bit hungry. He doesn’t protest as his dad gently carries him down and out of the clubhouse, and he can hear Hux still sounding worried.

He’s got Millie back now, so he’s not sure what Hux is upset about.

–

After three excruciatingly long and boring hours at the hospital Ben walks out into the waiting room with a clunky red cast on his uncool and still-boringly-human arm. He’s sulky, dreading all the crap he’s gonna get from his teacher having to scribble his homework with his left hand, and he stops in his tracks when he sees that his dad is not alone sitting out there waiting for him.

Hux is sitting in the next chair over, absurdly clutching Millicent to his chest like she could bolt at any moment. She really could, and Ben can’t help but snort a laugh at the sight of a cat in a hospital waiting room. Why hadn’t they at least dropped Millie off at Hux’s house first? Why was Hux even here? He might be a little loopy from whatever medicine made his arm feel floaty and not painful at all, but Hux didn’t have to know that, so he kept his mouth shut. 

He looks irritated as it is, or maybe– worried? And his eyes are red and puffy, like he’d been–

“There you are, finally,” Hux sniped, which was totally at odds with how fast he stood up in his chair when he noticed Ben was back.

“Yeah, this thing took forever to dry.” Ben says lamely, trying not to smile at the worried crease in Hux’s brow that he can’t fake with mean words. He was worried sick about Ben, if he was okay, had even cried over him it looks like. It feels awesome. “Broken in two places, the nurse said, but it didn’t even hurt.”

Hux leveled him with a look, Millie squirming in his arms and making him want to laugh again. “You were crying for your daddy before you even hit the floor.”

“I was not,” He ground out, angry and even more so when he realized he couldn’t ball his right hand into a fist, just had to stand there with it in a weird angle and not looking intimidating at all.

“Hey hey, can it you two. Let’s get out of here before your mother freaks out and tans my hide.” Han stands and stretches his back, throwing down the magazine he’d been flicking through way too fast to be actually reading it.

Ben really isn’t looking forward to the screaming match that will explode the second his mom sees his arm, but maybe they’ll let him go lay down if he plays up how much it hurts.

“Whatever,” He mutters, adjusting his arm. “Is Millie okay?”

Hux sniffs and pulls his eyes away from where they were lingering on the bright red fiberglass. “She was terrified, but,” He holds her close and meets his eyes, sneering veneer gone and only honest gratitude and some other warm feeling left in their watery blue. “Thank you, for. You know. Falling out of a tree for her.”

Ben grins. “I didn’t fall out of the tree, only most of the way down.” Hux gives him a look but he’s smiling now, too, and they stand there in a charged silence, scuffing their feet.

Han coughs from the doorway, jerking his head towards the parking lot.

“Wait,” Hux says, turning to him. “Mister Solo, do you have a marker I could borrow?”

Han rolls his eyes and digs around in the pockets of his banged up leather jacket, producing an equally banged up looking black sharpie. Ben doesn’t even try to hold in his laughter when, all business-like, Hux walks over to Han and takes the marker, handing Millie over into his dad’s arms (and ignoring his protests) before turning around and marching back over to him.

“I better sign it first, before everyone at school clogs it up with nonsense.” Hux squeaks off the cap of the marker and delicately wedges it on the top end before lightly grabbing hold of Ben’s cast and scribbling on it, quick and efficient.

Ben watches him in stunned silence, hoping his face isn’t as hot as it feels when Hux pulls away and squeaks the cap back on, revealing the words ‘tut tut’ in Hux’s pretty handwriting and a little drawing of a raincloud.

He looks up at him, trying to think of words to say that all his feelings can fit inside, and they all tumble out his ears when Hux leans in rabbit-quick and gives him a soft, warm peck on the cheek. He turns away before Ben can say anything, if he even knew what to say to maybe someday get him to do it again, but he can see that Hux is blushing red all the way down his neck as he walks out fast after his dad.

If his own face wasn’t hot yet it certainly is now, and his cheeks are starting to hurt with how hard he’s smiling as he trots along after him, out into the parking lot.

He looks down at the stiff red cast on his arm and thinks, with Hux’s addition, he wouldn’t trade it even for the coolest robot arm in the whole world.

send me a pairing and a number!

[nookishposts]

Identity in Words

When we meet people, when we are reintroduced to those we haven’t seen in many years, when we draft a cover letter, one question that must be answered repeatedly is: “What do you do?”

I am discovering that for me, it’s a question increasingly more difficult to answer with any accuracy. And I am too old to answer with a shrug and “I don’t know.”

A recent series of changes have caused me to think more deeply about the whole idea of identity; we define ourselves so much by the company we keep and how we make our living. Usually there’s a certain amount of crossover between the two; the after-work drink of a Friday evening, the birthday celebrations over lunch hour, the common themes of cheering babies and mourning parents, as we travel together proscribed hours per week, cover one another’s sick leaves, and nod in general understanding at both the news and the gossip.

Sudden employment dismissal felt like somebody whopped me across the face hard with a large cold fish (deliberate melodrama for the sake of the point here). The accompanying tang of salt sea air was bracing, but my jaw remains tender. Amid addressing the resultant practical matters, I find myself thinking about how to tell the story. Which is where I am going with this.

My Mum instilled a love of stories in me; she read to me constantly and encouraged me to ask people about themselves, watch classic films with her, and wonder always about the ‘why’ of things. Her parents and siblings, if you wound them up just right, could tell stories for days. They were not people who read classics or attended live theater (grandchildren’s school plays notwithstanding), but I grew to do those things myself.

I have written  for as long as I can remember, pretty much as soon as I could form letters with a pencil. I recall understanding I had hit the jackpot in Family Brownie Points when I answered a primary school fill-in-the-blank question: “Happiness Is_______?” with: “When Grandma comes to visit.” I meant it. Grandma was no-nonsense but made it plain she loved me, and she had a deep, dirty laugh that was totally at odds with her otherwise very lady-like demeanor. I could get lost in her cornflower eyes and the powdered wrinkles that framed them when she smiled at me. It was hard to remember sometimes that her life had taken her to the rim of Hell and back multiple times, such was her open tenderness. She had her flaws of course, but I could always get her telling stories. She laughed hardest at herself. She died when I was 31; we spoke by phone several times per week until then no matter where I was; how I wish now that I had stuck a voice recorder next to her teacup.

I wrote a Remembrance Day skit when I was in Grade 4. Later, reams of dreadful poetry full of adolescent angst and self-righteous scorn. Tried songwriting with interesting results. As many teenagers do. In my 20s I wrote a novel just to see if I could. In long-hand, on foolscap. Pure crap, but I still have it somewhere…because of the feelings I had when I was working on it; shutting the world out and letting my imagination fly. Frustrated at not finding the right combinations of words to say what I thought I meant.  Just hating to not be able to be clear, to risk the possibility of being misunderstood. I didn’t know then that I was simply trying to be heard, by my own self. (Therapy eventually took care of that.)

Highschool, College, and University English courses were fun. I loved the exchange of ideas in class, enjoyed Shakespeare, mangling Middle-English, deliberately chewing the scenery in recitation. Spent lots of time with little theatre companies, onstage and backstage, wrote scenes and articles, newsletters, and reviews. Then grown-up life got in the way, making a living took priority, and for many years I didn’t write anything more than the odd cranky Letter to The Editor.

Those 25 years took me through various types of recreation and social service jobs, a couple of relationships, lots of soul-searching. My creative urges found  other outlets in body therapies, gardening, home renovations, volunteering. I made the mistake of showing that first fledgling novel to someone, who read it and pronounced: “Well, it doesn’t suck.” It hasn’t seen the light of day since. I am such a coward sometimes.

When we moved to Winnipeg in 2009, I began a new novel, sent a few chapters to a friend in Ontario, who liked it, a lot. She regularly threatens to beat me to death with those pages if I don’t finish the thing. I have left her hanging for 9 years. Because the story began to ring a little too true, and I ran away. Again. Some of us are slow learners.

Becoming 50 started an interesting series of awakenings; like a cascade of pebbles loosened by a casual slip at the top of a mountain path. They skitter and bounce, gathering momentum, altering the landscape in subtle ways as gravity wins. I’ve spent 56 years carving that path up the mountain, resting along the way in shallow caves, on sunny crags, occasionally knocked on my ass by storms. The view from here is quite something, but I look at those tumbling pebbles and realize they are knocking loose some inhibitions and falsehoods as the debris they have become. On my way up, I’ve taken things out of my survival kit; lightened the load by leaving worn out shields and masks on the side of the track. I’ve shed any number of illusions, and it’s such a liberating feeling. I lack the time or the patience for things that used to take up too much space in my consciousness; if I am clean and presentable, who cares if I remain forever in blue jeans? If I come from a place of kindness, who cares what others think of my opinions? They are still subject to change after all. Life will do that, right up until the final moment.

The last couple of years have involved carefully calculated risks. I’ve been blogging steadily, and become involved with a local story-telling series. Both have been incredibly gratifying, and I am delighted to discover that while constructive feedback and compliments are wonderful and sometimes surprising, the real surprise is discovering that I have been doing it all for the pure joy of writing. Didn’t see that gift coming, even if it may have been obvious to people who know me. They shake their heads a lot, with good reason.

I’ve been tentatively promoting a small business in personal biographies for 5 months, and its growing, thanks to the cheerleading of key friends and mentors. It is to be my retirement income, and I can do it from anywhere, including the middle of nowhere if we find the right acreage at the right price. Simple sustainable living, mortgage-free, and writing down the stories that other people tell me, for a basic remuneration. Paradise found. That big hard fish-slap means I have been set as free as I am ever going to be, to make those words pay.

I don’t have it in me to be an innovative journalist. I’m not particularly good at fiction, unless its under a tree or by a campfire with little kids begging for a whopper; a different kind of fish-story. I have two strengths: to listen and to observe, then put those things into written words. Softening the edges of the world around me allows pictures to form in my head, brings the taste of delicious, playful prose to my mouth, sends my fingers skittering over the keyboard like those pebbles down the mountainside path; revealing stuff I never knew that I knew. It’s humbling, and also cautiously exciting. Full-circle. Happiness is: ________.

I’m not sure what makes someone a writer. Is it when they have been published (yes, in small ways), won awards (yes, a couple)? Or is it when we realize we have done it all our lives in some way or another and aren’t likely to stop any time soon? Is it a professional designation or a personal one, or shifting degrees of both?

From this place two-thirds of my way up my mountain, I am hereby kicking a big rock in the direction of letting others dictate my job description. I release myself to the joy of just doing, hoping my words might also give others some pleasure and make it easier for them to tell their own stories about whatever the heck they choose. We meet one another in the shared experiences; the public embarrassment, the secret fear, the unavoidable loss, the happy surprise.  #MeToo is the most poignant and powerful example of this collective tapestry-weaving I have seen in my lifetime. Our stories can change the world. One  word at a time until the ground swells beneath our feet and false mountains are shaken till they crumble into dust. I have decided that what I “do” is write. Which makes me a writer.

Well, that was easy.

[the-chameleon-art]

Happy holidays, my dear @forever-is-my-promise-to-you. Here’s my @dwsecretsanta present for you! I hope you like it <3

Ao3

The Last Week of School

Monday, 7:27 AM

That morning the staff room of Coal Hill School was so quiet you could hear a needle drop. Most of the teachers hadn’t arrived yet and the rest was peacefully getting the last minutes of sleep before the day started.

The loud bang of a bag hitting the table top didn’t even make some of them stir.

„Rose, dear, what have you got in there? Bricks?“ Jack peered intrigued at the bag trying to deduct its content. „Well, it definitely feels like it,“ Rose replied a little bit out of breath. „No, these are just a few holiday presents.“

„Presents? Oh Rosie, you shouldn’t have,“ Jack went to grab the bag only to have Rose snatch it back. „For everybody,“ Rose simply added as if Jack hadn’t even said something in the first place. „That’s good, seeing that I’m proudly part of everybody,“ Jack proclaimed with his signature smile. He seemed very pleased with himself as he held out his hand to receive a gift.

„Wait, does that mean that he’s also getting a present?“ Jack’s smile turned into a devious grin Rose didn’t like one bit. She groaned in response. „Yes. I couldn’t exact not give him one while giving everyone else something,“ With that she handed Jack a small, wrapped package which he practically ripped open the second it touched his palm.

„You know, I really don’t understand how you can’t like him. I mean have you seen his hair? Gorgeous. He’s a big, walking flirt. Everyone loves him. He always travels around the world during holiday breaks, did you know that? Always to places where people need help. I heard he once lead a caravan of camels loaded with litres of water to desolated villages in desperate need for it,“ Jack nibbled at the chocolate he’d found in the package.

Rose just shrugged „He’s infuriating. Everybody’s blue-eyed boy. Don’t you remember his first day?“

„Rose, you’re being overdramatic, honey.“ Jack finished his chocolate and went over to his desk. „Don’t forget that the Brig is going to make an announcement for tomorrow’s school excursion before the lessons starts,“ he looked up again and Rose noticed that his focus shifted to something besides her. And that bloody grin returned to his face.

„Hiya, Doc. You know one of these days I’m gonna get you show me what you put into your hair because even though you wear that helmet it still looks like you’ve styled it just a few seconds ago.“ Rose rolled her eyes. „He’s probably been here for hours curling his hair.“

„Ah, Tyler. Didn’t see you there,“ John Smith glanced at the bag still sitting on the table. „What’s this? You packing your stuff? Has a miracle happened?“

„Don’t worry, Smith. If I would leave, you’d be the first to know.“ Rose looked into his eyes defiantly. „Oh, I’m counting on that. See you later, Jack,“ Smith moved past them and disappeared into the growing crowd of teachers arriving.

Monday, 7:53 AM

„Also some additionally information; as some out you might know last night some sort of teacher ranking has been posted online. I know I don’t have to remind everybody, but just to make sure everyone’s getting this; Don’t let this interfere with your work ethic. It’s been posted by some students and we’re working to find out who did it. In the meantime just continue as normal. And now we move on to some basics for the school excursion…“ Headmaster Lethbridge-Stewart started talking about safety risks when Rose turned around to face Donna. „What teacher ranking?“ „You haven’t seen it yet? You’re in for a surprise,“ she pulled out her phone and with a few clicks opened a website.

„Here, take a look.“ Rose scrolled through the list of grades until she reached some typical American yearbook questions. Hottest teacher, most likely to, etc. When she finally found her name she had to make a double take. „Most likely to end up together? With John Smith? Are you kidding me?!“ She hissed at Donna. The only response she got back was a big smile.

„Ms Tyler. If you’d be so kind to pay attention seeing that it concerns you too.“ Rose could hear someone snicker near to her and she was pretty sure it was Smith. „Yes, sir,“ she shifted on her chair.

„As I was saying,“ Lethbridge-Stewart continued. „Sadly Mr. Sullivan has called in sick for at least three days which means there have to been made a small rearrangement for tomorrow’s excursion: Ms. Tyler takes over Sullivan’s spot and teams up with Mr. Smith. You two’ll have time to go over the details. That seems to be all for today. Success and please don’t cause any major incidents.“

Slowly the room emptied while Rose continued to glare at the table.

„Well, at least you didn’t really end up with him together.“ Donna tried to cheer her up. Looking up she saw John stare at her from across the room with an unreadable expression. Then he suddenly stood up and walked out of the staff room.

„Can’t change it now. Guess I just have to live with it. It’s going to be one day, right. What harm can it do?“ Rose shrugged and went to grab her sportswear. There were students waiting for her.

Monday, 8:16 AM

„You did this, didn’t you? Well, if you wanted to do something with me so desperately you should have said so.“ Smith leaned against her table. Rose had just given out nearly all of her presents. The only one left was for the person currently watching her like a cat that just ate a canary. „‘Scuse me? Are you implying something?“ She shot him a short glance.

„Not at all. What’s that?“ John pointed at the present she had been holding close to her chest. „Holiday gifts for the staff,“ She replied.

„A little small for the entire staff. Mind that the most important things in life turn out to be incredibly small. Are those Jelly babies?“ He proceeded to grab a handful out of Rose’s bag. With a small jump he almost was off again. „It’s for you.“ Rose simply said, still confused by his change of topic.

„For me?“ Rose shoved it into his hands.

„Don’t look so smug.“ She turned around quickly and left.

„Thank you, Rose,“ John said quietly to an empty space.

Monday, 3:41 PM

„Smith, we have to make plans.“

John looked up from his papers. „Look, if we’re going to make this work you might as well start calling me Doctor like everybody else,“ Rose just looked at him annoyed. „I’m being serious. Seeing that Sullivan and you already discussed the basics helps a bit but like the Brig said, we still need to talk about specifics. Like what we’re gonna do if students injure themselves?“

„Rose, we’re going to an art gallery. They might get dizzy because of an Escher or they’re legs turn jelly from looking at a Dali but they’re not going to get deadly injuries. Relax.“ He said it with so much confidence Rose almost felt at ease. John started to work on his papers again „Now, do you know if this is supposed to be a lambda or an h? And like I said, The Doctor will do.“

„Isn’t that name a bit pretentious?“

„P-pretentious?“ Ah, that got his attention. „I’ll have you know, Ms. Tyler, I worked very hard to get that title. I think. It’s all a bit hazy actually. I have to ask Romana about that. Which reminds me of a funny story which happened to me off the coast of Java.“ And there it was gone again. As John continued to talk about how he and a few rebels once boarded a ship in the Indian Ocean to save a small island Rose sighed. This was going to end badly.

Tuesday, 2:39 PM

It had in fact ended badly. Not as dramatic as Rose had thought but close.

„Oh, come on, Rose. I couldn’t have done anything about the art gallery paying thousands for a fake. So technically it’s not my fault.“ Smith tried to talk to her.

„Not your fault? Smith, you still managed to get us into a holding cell. Did you have to call the curator a moron for not noticing?“ Rose retorted. „Let’s be honest, it really was very obvious.“ John shot back.

„And can you explain to me why you had to try to prove it was fake by tearing the painting? I don’t even want to start about what you said to the police officer in front of the students.“ She let her head fall against the wall. „You always manage to get others into trouble for things you did. I can’t understand how everyone seems to trust you so quickly. Do you’re always wrap them around your little fingers with your charms and looks. Like seriously, do you sleep with curlers? What’s up with your hair, Smith?“

„Doctor“ John interjected.

„What?“ Rose snapped.

„Doctor,“ Smith repeated. „Could you please call me Doctor instead of Smith?“

„Why? I think you’re full of yourself when you call yourself that.“ She kicked a pebble across the room.

„I never liked it. Smith. Always felt wrong. Also I think we’re passed the phase of addressing ourselves with surnames.“ Rose stayed silent after that.

„Why do you hate me, Rose?“ The Doctor asked out off the blue.

Rose looked into his eyes and noticed for the first time how bright they were. „I don’t really think I hate you. To be honest, I don’t even remember what started us fighting half of the time. It just kind of happened.“

„Do you think, that maybe we could start over? We could go on one of my adventures,“ His eyes sparked hopefully.

Rose thought it over for a second. „Tell you what, when you get us out of this cell I’ll consider it.“

„Nothing simpler than that.“ The Doctor jumped up and went over to the door.

Rose blinked. „Why didn’t you do that from the start then?“ She shouted after him.

Friday, 3:24 PM

The rest of the week proceeded like nothing had ever happened. The rumors that something indecent happened in that holding cell circulated in the school so much that even fellow teacher started to speculate as well. Rose just tried to ignore it. Donna had been on her back for days and Jack simply gave a knowing grin.

She hadn’t talked to The Doctor. The last time she’d seen him was when Lethbridge-Stewart reprimanded them for the scene they made in the art gallery. „I hope he didn’t get fired,“ She had told Jack and could have kicked herself at the exact moment those words left her mouth. ‘Yes,‘ she admitted to herself. ‘You started to care about him.‘

„I hope you got all that down. I know it’s the last day of school before the Christmas holidays start but I can assure you that this is going to be important for the exam,“ The school bell rang and Rose started to clear the blackboard. „Happy holidays!“

Some girls started to giggle as they passed her on the way outside and Rose turned to the door. There he was. The Doctor stood there dressed completely in motorcycle gear.

„Hey,“ He smiled. Rose smiled back. „Where have you been?“ She stepped closer and studied his face. „And what have you done to your hair?“ He had cut it. It was shorter and less curly. „I had to make some preparations. Don’t you like the hair? I needed it shorter for the holiday break,“ His smile widened. „Rose Tyler, how do feel about a little adventure?“

Rose looked at him incredulous. „I-I need to pack.“

„That’s a yes, then?“ He chuckled. Rose agreed. „Yeah, let’s do it.“

The Doctor grabbed her hand and pulled her along.

„We’ll take the Tardis. That’s my motorcycle. Trusty old thing. Never let me down. Funny story how I got her actually. It all started in a little junkyard actually not that far from here….“

The End