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lis-likes-fics · 4 years ago

Text

Concussed

Pairing: Carlisle Cullen x Reader Word Count: 8,820 words smh jfc Warnings: Car crash, many injuries, idk Author’s Note: Okay... maybe I got a little carried away. I did tell you guys I was going to end up writing a couple about him. I’m going through my phase, lemme alone. There will be a part two for certain reasons.

~~~~~

The sound of Chief Swan’s car parking in his driveway next door didn’t phase Y/N. It was when she heard the people talking where she decided to go to her window and see what was going on. She opened the window and stuck her head out of it in curiosity. She saw Charlie and Billy, a very familiar face, play fighting in Charlie’s driveway next to the red pickup that had been parked there for a few days.

She looked over and saw Jacob, another familiar face because of his relation to Billy, and a girl. Y/N smiled when she realized just who the girl was. She waved out of her window like a child, “Hey, Bella!”

The group looked over and saw her peering down at them with the smile plastered on her face. Billy and Jacob smiled and waved, Charlie gave a small wave of her own. “Hey, Chief, Billy, Jake.”

“Hello, Y/N. How are you?” Billy asked with a smile.

“Same ole, you know me,” she responded.

A smile slowly spread across Bella’s face as the recognition settled in, “Y/N, it’s been forever, how are you?”

She smiled, “Hey, Bells. I’m good. It’s great to see you again.”

Y/N and Bella used to be great friends. She lived in Forks next to Charlie Swan her whole life. Her parents died in a car crash when she was very young and she was left with her grandfather, who died when she was sixteen. She began living on her own in the same house, too sentimental to move away. She had Charlie for adult supervision when she needed it, but she was pretty much independent otherwise.

Y/N, Bella, and Jacob used to play together all the time when she lived here with her. When she moved away, it was just her and Jacob. They hung around a little bit afterwards, but lost touch when they got into junior high. Y/N was currently a senior while Bella was a junior. She was a year older than her, which made her two years older than Jacob - another reason they lost touch.

Y/N stuck her head back in her window and made her way down the stairs and out of the house so she could get a better look at the group. She managed to get a short hug from Bella before they started talking again.

Billy smiled, “And there’s the trio. I miss the days you were just little kids playing in the mud.” Charlie nodded in his silent reminiscing.

Y/N smiled and nudged Bella a little, “Are you still clumsy?”

She chuckled lightly, “Are you?”

She smiled, “Fair enough. One reason we were such good friends-”

“You were both accident prone,” Jacob finished with a laugh.

“Still are. You had to make sure we didn’t get ourselves killed,” Y/N joked. He nodded as he sighed, a smile on his face as he remembered the old days where you were just little kids.

Charlie spoke, patting the truck, “So what do you think of your homecoming gift?”

Bella’s eyes widened in wonder and she looked from the truck to the people standing around her, “No way. The truck is for me?”

Charlie nodded, “Just bought it off Billy here.”

Jacob smiled, “I rebuilt the engine and-”

“It’s perfect!” She beamed, rushing to the truck with Jacob in tow. Y/N stuck by the window with a smile as she watched them. Bella got in and was given an overview by the long-haired boy while she rolled down the window for Y/N.

She turned to Jacob, “Maybe I can give you a ride to school.”

He shook his head regrettably, “I go to school on the reservation.”

Y/N spoke, “Maybe you can give me a ride. Jacob’s fixing my car right now and I’ve been snatching rides from a couple friends from school.”

She smiled, “Yeah, that’d be fine. It’ll be nice knowing at least one person there.”

She nodded, “Everyone’s super nice, for the most part. You should make friends quickly.”

Over the next couple of weeks, Bella, like everyone, was instantly interested in the Cullens. They were always the attention grabbers of the school, but no one hung out with them or thought well of them because they never hung out with anyone other than themselves. They were a strange group and they got a lot of unnecessary thoughts and names because of it. Y/N didn’t mind them. They were interesting and that was that.

Unlike the Cullens, especially Edward, he was interested in Bella as well. It took awhile for that to come to light, he’d run off after her first day at school. She’d told Y/N all about it on the way back home after school and, while it was strange, it wasn’t too strange for the Cullens. After some quick reassurance, they were fine.

When Edward returned, so did Bella and Y/N’s chat about him. She was sitting in her car, the window rolled down on the driver’s side so she could chat with Bella while she stood outside of the car. “This homework is ridiculous. You’re lucky you have another year before you have to do this,” Y/N complained as she stared at the sheet.

Bella wasn’t paying much attention, her gaze shifting from her own homework to Edward staring at her from across the parking lot. Y/N sighed and went back to her work before hearing a strange screeching sound coming from the end of the lot.

She looked up and saw a van skidding on the ice, careening out of control, headed directly for them. Y/N moved quickly to attempt getting Bella in the truck before the van crashed. She reached over and got the door opened before Bella noticed the truck, tripping on the ice under her feet and causing her to fall back against the door.

The door slammed hard back into Y/N’s skull and she moved to grab her head, her eyes hurting as she squeezed them shut. When the truck rocked back and forth slightly, she opened her eyes again, against the strain, and struggled to look out of the window to see Bella unharmed on the other side.

Her head was hurting too much for her to question how Bella got out of that without a scratch. She sighed and got back to her side, letting out a sigh as her dizziness crashed into her like the door did to her skull. Her vision strained as it sunk in and out.

Her headache began to sink in after her ears started ringing. Bella, getting over her shock, stood and turned to the window to see if you were okay. “Y/N?” She asked, her eyes wide and concern slipping into her voice. Her voice sounded muffled and distant, she could barely make out what Bella was saying.

She looked at Bella with unfocused eyes, “I’m fine.” Her words were slurred, barely hearing her own words over the ringing in her ears. People moved to look when they realized she was in the truck as well.

Students started swarming over to her side, looking in through the open window. They spoke in a choir of mumbles and muffled questions. Someone pushed his way through the group to look at her. “She needs to go to the hospital,” Y/N didn’t pick up a single word of that, but Bella did.

The last thing she saw before slipping into her first round through consciousness and unconsciousness was someone quickly rushing to get both Bella and Y/N to the hospital.

Y/N sat in the room surrounded by white, her feet hanging off the edge of the hospital bed as she kicked them in front of her. She had her hands steadied on the bed to keep her from falling over from the slight dizziness. The ringing had gone down, but it was still there in the background. Her headache was the only thing that had decided to stick around the way it had before.

She was just trying to convince everyone that she was fine. Just like Bella. She looked across the room at Bella, who was talking with her worried father about the accident. She looked away instead of trying to get her eyes to completely focus, the strain hurt.

When the doors opened, a stunningly handsome doctor came through them with a charming smile. He had icy blond hair, pale, ivory skin, and a smile that could kill. His face is kind, but pale, tired - that didn’t make him any less beautiful. He was drop-dead gorgeous. Y/N was sure she was shot with Cupid’s arrow.

He went straight to Bella first, “I heard the Chief's daughter was in.”

Charlie nodded, “Good. Dr. Cullen.”

Dr. Cullen, the head of the Cullen Family. Well, no wonder he was so beautiful. This was Carlisle Cullen.

He turned to the E.R. doctor, “I’ve got this one, Jackie.” She handed him the chart and left. He reviewed Bella’s chart, then felt the back of her head, “You have a nice knot growing back there, but your x-rays show no indication of concussion.”

Tyler Crowley, who Y/N assumed was the one who hit the truck, spoke, “I’m so sorry, Bella. I’m really-”

He was cut off by Charlie pulling the curtain between them. Yep, he was definitely the one who hit the truck. Y/N watched the interaction with a slightly tilted her. She was focusing in and out, not caring too much about anyone but Dr. Handsome.

Bella muttered, “It would have been a lot worse if Edward hadn’t knocked me out of the way.”

Charlie furrowed his brow, “Edward? Your boy?”

Dr. Cullen looked up before looking back down at the chart. Bella continued, a hidden goal in her words now, “It was amazing he got to me so fast. He was nowhere near me.”

He gave her a smile, “As long as you’re safe.”

Bella sighed and glanced as Y/N, who was visibly spacing in and out. She was still trying to get over her headache, but it was a little hard when it rattled her brain like it did. She was just waiting for a doctor to get to her like they said they would.

Carlisle followed Bella’s gaze to Y/N. At first, it was just a glance before he looked back again with a slight intrigue. He quickly finished up with Bella before turning back to Y/N, walking over to her with a smile on his face. She gave a seemingly distracted smile back and he picked up her chart from beside her, looking over it closely.

“What’s your name?” He asked her, looking back up with that same smile. Only this time, she got a good look at his eyes. They were a magnificent honey gold that would have made her weak at the knees, had she been standing.

Instead, it was substituted by a fluttering in her stomach. But who was she kidding, he was probably already married. He had kids, for God’s sake, adopted or not. She glanced down at his hand while he stared at her chart and felt a little bit of unnecessary hope when she saw no ring.

It didn’t matter, though. He was way out of her league.

She struggled to find her voice for a moment, trying to recall the question before answering in a slurred tone, despite her best efforts to make it clear, “Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Y/N, “ he said, as if tasting her name. He nodded slightly, “How are you feeling?"

She shrugged, “I’m okay.”

Dr. Cullen raised a blond brow very slightly before asking, "Any ringing in the ears? Headache? Dizziness?"

"Maybe a little,” she sighed, the slur becoming painfully obvious. He grabbed a small flashlight from his pocket and checked her eyes, running the rest of his tests. He looked back at the chart and sighed, “You've got a minor concussion."

“Course, I do,” she sighed, laughing weakly, “Brilliant.”

He gave her a sympathizing look and smile, speaking in that calm voice of his, “I want you to try to avoid unnecessary movement of your head and neck as much as possible. Limit your exposure to bright lights and loud sounds. Stay hydrated and get lots of rest. That said...you should be staying home for a couple of days before trying to get back to school."

‘Whatever you want, Doctor,’ was what her mind said before she quickly revised her sentence before she said it impulsively, “Alright. Thanks, Doctor.”

He nodded, “You’re very welcome.”

Dr. Cullen finished up with her before helping her off the bed, his icy cold hand placed on her arm so she didn’t trip and fall, which she was bound to do otherwise. Before they left the hospital, she was scheduled for another check up in two days.

She was rather giddy to know that she’d be seeing the blond beauty again in two days. She could hardly wait. She was driven home by Bella afterwards. She told her, “Hey, really sorry about the concussion. It must hurt.”

Y/N shook her head as she lied, “No, not at all.” She would rather not have people worrying over her. She was a lot like Bella in that area. The “suffer in silence” type.

She looked in her driveway and chuckled humorlessly at her car parked in the driveway. She nodded and walked up to the door. She moved the mailbox next to her door to reveal the small “hole” behind it where the car keys were hidden with a note.

When her grandfather was alive, he would often forget where the keys were so she had to put a spare in that space. She might as well use it since it’s there. The note read, “Finished the car. Good as new. You weren’t here so I dropped it off. -Jake”

She grabbed the keys and the note and went inside the house, closing the door behind her. She immediately got a glass of water and took a nap. She was tired.

But the nap didn’t stop her from thinking about the handsome doctor. If anything, it encouraged her as her mind wandered with fantasies of her and the gorgeous man.

Y/N got in her car on the day of her appointment. She was slightly giddy and she wanted to be annoyed with herself - she was acting like a child going to see her crush. She had to continuously remind herself, ‘Dr. Carlisle Cullen is way out of your league. Ring or not, there was no way he would be interested in you. Wake up.’

The reminders deterred her mood a little bit, but not enough to get her to calm down. She pulled out of the driveway and headed to the Forks General Hospital. After waiting for the nurse to show her to the room she’d be getting her checkup in.

“Y/N Y/L/N,” the nurse called, looking around the room that sat four other people. She looked up, a tight smile on her face, “Right here.”

She gave a soft smile and said, “The doctor will see you now.”

Y/N stood and followed the nurse down the hall. She led her to a room where there was a doctor waiting-- not the doctor she was expecting. The doctor smiled at her as she motioned for Y/N to sit down in front of her. Y/N obeyed, her heart sinking in her chest a little bit.

‘He’s probably not here…’

“How are you,” she asked. Y/N gave a tight smile and shrugged, “I’m okay, thank you.”

“Let’s see what we’ve got,” Dr. Lacey looked at the clipboard, “It says here you got a minor concussion a couple days ago?”

Y/N nodded, “Uh, yes. Dr. Cullen assessed me.”

“Ah, yes,” the doctor said, as if fantasizing now. She shook her head and sighed, “So you're coming in for a checkup?”

Y/N nodded. The doctor nodded back and went through the checkup to make sure everything was in order. She took a little longer than Dr. Cullen had, he was efficient and certain of every move he made.

Y/N stopped and sighed to try and rid her thoughts of the golden eyed doctor. She didn’t need to be thinking about him, it would turn into obsession quickly if she continued to wonder about the doctor.

“Alright, you look alright. Be sure to take it easy, if you must go to school, take it easy,” Dr. Lacey broke her from her thoughts.

Y/N responded with a sigh, “I need to get back to school. But I will take it easy.”

“Alright, then. Drink plenty of fluids and be careful.”

“Will do. Thanks.”

After the checkup, Y/N left the room. Her hands gripped her bag as she walked down the hall. She looked up and saw none other than Dr. Carlisle Cullen walking down the hall her way.

He gave a warm smile, “Hello, Y/N. How is your head?”

She smiled back at him, “It’s better. I just came up for my check up. I...expected to see you...” She very slightly furrowed her brow, looking into his eyes. They weren’t the same honey gold eyes they were, they were darker, more brown than they were before.

He nodded, looking down at the chart in his hand briefly before looking back at her, “Something came up and I wasn’t able to take your case.”

She nodded, “Oh, okay.” He motioned to his clipboard and said, “I’ve got to go. Have a nice day, Y/N.”

She smiled at him again, waving, “Bye, Dr. Cullen.” He nodded with a smile and left. She sighed, turned around, and left.

‘So much for ‘not here’,’ she thought before walking off.

It had been a while since she’d seen Carlisle. She hoped the distance and time would help stop her little fantasies, but it only made them worse. Every day and every night, she found herself thinking of Carlisle Cullen. It was driving her crazy.

She could barely focus on the work in front of her as she waited for her next class to start in the parking lot next to her car. When the bell rang, she sighed and threw her bag over her shoulder, beginning to turn to head back into the school. She paused when she saw Bella walking away and towards the forest that bordered the school.

She shook her head, “Where is she going?” She began to follow her, tell her that class was the other way. As Y/N headed over, she saw Edward headed after Bella. She knew she should have turned the other way and given them their privacy but, if they were missing a class period to do something, it would have been good.

And she was never one to miss out on eavesdropping.

She waited after most of the crowd had cleared before headed into the edge of the forest, walking a little ways longer before she finally saw the pair in the distance talking. She could make out some of what Bella was saying, facing away from Edward as he stood rather strangely behind her.

“...skin is pale-white, ice-cold. Your eyes change color. And sometimes you speak like... you're from a different time,” Bella said, slightly shaken, but not scared. She turned to face Edward now and Y/N furrowed a brow. Her mind wandered back to Carlisle, how his eyes went from gold to dark brown (almost black), how his skin is also pale and cold. She shook her head and turned back to them.

Bella continued, “You never eat food, or drink, or come out in the sunlight. And you said no to the beach trip only after you heard where it was. Because of the treaty.”

‘What treaty?’ she thought. She wasn’t at the beach trip, she turned it down to do homework since she was behind. Before she could think on, Bella spoke again, “How old are you?”

Edward hesitated before speaking, something in his voice that somehow made Y/N cautious and alert, goosebumps rising on her skin from the sudden awareness of all of her escape routes. “Seventeen,” he said.”

Bella continued, “How long have you been 17?”

“A while.”

‘Is she calling him a…’ Y/N couldn’t bring herself to even think of the word. That was absurd! Vampires didn’t exist…

“I know what you are,” Bella said to him, Y/N was barely able to understand but it was audible enough for her to make out.

Edward spoke, his voice firm, edging on chilling, “Say it… Out loud… Say it.”

His tone and his look made Y/N feel a little more frightened than she was before and it was ridiculous. She shouldn’t be scared, he wasn’t a vampire. Was he?

Bella hesitated before finally admitting, “Vampire.”

Edward didn’t deny it and that’s what began to concern Y/N and pierce through her unbelieving thoughts, “Are you afraid?”

She shook her head, “No.”

‘Is Edward…’

His tone was angry now, it only added to Y/N’s fear, “Then ask me the most basic question: what do we eat?”

“You won’t hurt me,” Bella said instead of answering.

The fear that had now stricken Y/N to the core was what completely convinced her that this wasn’t just some weird, strange game the two had going on. Edward was a creature that was believed to just be a myth, this thing that hunted humans for their blood. For food.

Y/N turned around, leaving the forest as quickly as possible before she was found. She didn’t know what to do, so she raced to the parking lot, got in her car, and went home. She could worry about her absence in the rest of her classes later. Right now, she had to make sense of things.

If Edward was a vampire, what does that mean for the rest of his family? Were they all vampires? Was Carlisle…

She didn’t want to think about it. This was absurd, she was crazy. Any moment now, she would wake up from this stupid, sick dream.

No one was a vampire.

But when she didn’t wake up, she was truly surprised and shocked. She got inside as quick as possible and paced around her house anxiously. How long had Bella known? How was she not scared, at least even a little bit? If Edward was a vampire, he had to be dangerous right? Was she safe?

Y/N downed a glass of water to try and calm herself. She needed to calm herself so she could think rationally. After a while, she decided she needed a nap. Maybe a nap would make everything make sense. Or at least calm her enough so she could think straight.

A knock on her door woke Y/N up. She looked at her clock, realizing the time. School had gotten out by now, that could be Bella. She got up and walked cautiously to the door. When she saw Edward on the other side through the peephole, her breath caught in her throat as she stilled.

“Y/N,” he called on the other side. She let out a silent breath, tensed up from her unexpected and potentially dangerous visitor. He spoke again, “I know you're in there. Just let me in, I won't hurt you.”

She thought about it quickly before deciding to just open the door. Her trembling hand landed on the knob and she let out another silent breath before pulling the door opened. She ran a hand through her hand and asked nervously, “Are you all…?”

He sighed, “Can I come in?”

She bit down on her lip and stepped aside, allowing him to step into her home. She closed the door behind him when he was inside and then turned back to him. He gestured for her to sit down and she took the opportunity, looking back up at him anxiously.

“Yes, we're all vampires. Me and my family,” Edward nodded, answering her question.

She thought to herself, ‘Did he know I was there?’

As if he knew what she was thinking, he spoke, “Yes, I knew.”

‘How did you-’

“I can hear what you’re thinking,” he answered her thought once again, “Some of my kind have gifts, I can read minds.”

“Then...why did you let me hear?” She asked. If he knew she was there, He could have easily stopped the conversation until she left, or told her to leave himself.

He shrugged, “I had to break the news to you somehow. The opportunity was right there, so I took it.”

“But why?” She asked him, confusion written in her tone. He sighed and stopped to think for a moment before admitting, “It’s complicated… How is your head?”

Y/N brought her hand up to touch her head as she answered, “Better…” The topic of her head made her think about Carlisle again. Her mind wandered as Carlisle’s face appeared in her thoughts. Only, instead of the golden eyes she remembered seeing that first day, she was met with blood red eyes that pierced into her soul.

Edward shook his head, “Carlisle's no monster. He's anything but. You can trust me on that. He’s the reason for our current lifestyle choice.”

The fear in Y/N’s eyes returned very slightly as she thought about that answer before Edward caught himself, “We consider ourselves vegetarians. We don’t feed on humans, we feed on animals instead. It’s why our eyes aren’t red.”

That calmed her a little more and she turned to play with her hands. She was clearly still shaken and Edward caught onto that. He spoke through the silence that began to settle, “I should be going…”

He stood and turned to the door. He placed his hand on the door knob before turning back to her, “Y/N… please know that we aren’t going to hurt you.”

She considered her words before allowing them to make sense in her head. If they were going to hurt her, they would have done it already. She nodded, “Okay.” He nodded to her, before finally turning and leaving.

She thought about her visit from Edward a lot after that-- not nearly enough to be more than she thought about Carlisle, but it was a close second. His words calmed her more, they seemed sincere enough for her to be able to believe. But she was still shaken and working on the believing part.

She still went to school. She decided her fear shouldn’t be enough to put her further behind than she already was by missing just two days of school before and then half a day after the big reveal. She was wary of the Cullens, but she wasn’t scared of them. If she was, it wasn’t as much as when she first learned of their secret.

Their eyes seemed to watch her sometimes, as if they were trying to see every move she made, waiting for a slipup. She assumed it was because she knew their secret. She wouldn’t tell anyone, she wouldn’t risk anything by telling someone. Besides, people would think she was crazy if they did.

Y/N assumed Edward had told his siblings this because they stopped watching her so closely after a while.

Her schedule consisted of school and home. She didn’t have reason to be any other place, so she stayed inside. There was apparently some wild animal attacking people in Forks. Now that she knew about vampires, she had her suspicions. After Edward’s admittance of their diet, she had reason to believe and trust that it wasn’t them. So she had to be careful.

She was doing her homework again one afternoon. She saw that there was going to be a thunderstorm sometime later on, so she moved her work outside to get some air before that happened. She didn’t like being outside during any storm, rain or not.

The door opened at Bella’s house and she turned her head to see who it was. She saw Bella and gave a wave, “Hey, Bells.”

“Uh- Hey, Y/N,” she responded, giving a wave of her own.

Suddenly, Edward stepped in view and she looked up at him. She’d gotten quite used to him, but she still wasn’t that used to him. “Hello, Y/N. How are you?” He asked her with a soft smile. He was still trying to ease her into this. He didn’t want to spook her.

She had been spooked enough when she found out.

“I'm fine... Thanks,” she cleared her throat.

Edward thought for a moment before speaking, “Bella and I are going to play baseball with my family. You're more than welcome to come, if you would like.”

She shook her head, “No, I'm okay. I wouldn't want to intrude, I’m not a big sports person anyway... You have fun, though.” She gave a tight smile.

He nodded, “Alright. Good night.”

“Good night,” she said after him as he walked away with Bella. They got in her car and drove away. Y/N sighed and stood, walking back into her house to make whatever she had in her fridge for dinner.

Y/N looked out of her window from her room when she heard a car drive up to Bella’s driveway. She was probably just getting back home. It was already dark outside, it would make sense. When Bella slammed the door, Y/N opened her window and looked out. She seemed angry.

“Bella, is everything alright?” She asked, glancing at Edward behind her.

She looked up at Y/N. She nodded, Y/N could tell through the darkness of the night because of Bella’s pale skin-- although not as pale as Edward’s. “Yeah, just... We're fine. Stay inside.”

Y/N trailed off, “Okay…” She glanced at Edward through the dark. Edward’s pale white skin allowed her to makeout the look on his face. There was a warning in his features, not a warning against him, though.

She retreated from her window, closing it shut and returning to what she was doing. A few minutes later, she heard the door to their house slam as Bella drove away quickly from the house. Edward wasn’t with her. Charlie was standing in the light of the porch, watching her leave with a seemingly pained expression.

Y/N stood at her window, looking as best she could without opening it. She was confused, why did Charlie look like that? She sighed, it wasn’t her problem, she shouldn’t be so concerned about it.

She shook her head, retreating from her window once again and deciding to go to bed. Everything was sure to blow over in the morning.

A strange crash was heard downstairs as Y/N woke up suddenly from her sleep. She thought about what to do, there was an intruder in the house. She looked around her room and grabbed her baseball bat. Her grandfather had made a bat for her when she was younger and it was one of the really sentimental things she kept around, even if she didn’t play.

She carefully locked her bedroom door and went into her closet to hide, clutching the bat in her hands tight. After a moment, her door knob jiggled furiously. She pushed her hand against her mouth to keep her quiet. She was terrified at this point.

When the jiggling stopped, she removed her hand slowly. Then the door was kicked down and off of its hinges, making her jump as she clamped her hand back over her mouth and stopped breathing to stay quiet.

She couldn’t see anything, she didn’t take any chances with leaving the door opened just a crack. She listened closely and allowed herself to breathe as silently as humanly possibly.

Soft footsteps were heard on the other side of the door. With how soft they were, this had to be a woman. Why would there be a woman inside of her house trying to get to her?

The footsteps stopped. Y/N stilled and held her breath again so she could hear anything that happened. When the footsteps continued, they seemed to stalk closer to the door and Y/N’s heart only continued to pound in her chest. It was pounding so fast and so loud that she could feel and hear it in her chest. She was sure it would stop soon.

There was more silence.

Y/N let out a yelp as the door opened violently and revealed a woman with fiery red hair. Her eyes were wild and sadistic as she smirked maliciously at her. “Hello, there,” she said.

The woman grabbed Y/N by her throat, pulling her back to her chest as her hand moved to cover her mouth. Her other hand came to pinch her nose, keeping her from breathing as she slowly and painfully stopped the air flow from reaching her brain and lungs.

Y/N struggled against the woman’s hold, trying to scream and yell to try and get the attention of the chief next door, who’s probably already asleep. Y/N’s struggling slowed as she grew weaker. She started seeing black spots in her vision as if faded in and out with each failed attempt to breathe.

Soon, she couldn’t fight anymore as her body went limp and she went unconscious. The woman let go of her, dropping her to the floor. Her goal wasn’t to kill her… yet.

Rosalie and Esme were sent to Bella’s place to guard Charlie and Y/N. Rosalie was confused as to why she needed protecting. They didn’t associate with her, the tracker, James, would have no reason to try and hurt her.

As they came up on the house, Esme checked quickly for Charlie to make sure he was safe. When she saw Charlie sitting in his house, she nodded to herself. Charlie was safe.

Rosalie took Y/N’s, looking inside the house. She stopped when she saw the door slightly opened. She walked up to the door, pushing it open as it squealed against the motion. She stepped inside and saw the broken vase on the floor behind the door.

Whoever opened the door before must have knocked the vase over by opening the door too quickly. She looked up the stairs, rushing to the top quickly and seeing the door on the floor. It had been kicked down. She searched the house quickly, listening closely for a heartbeat. She found nothing but an empty house.

She rushed back to Esme, “We have a problem. The girl isn’t here. Someone broke in.”

Esme’s eyes widened slightly and she grabbed her phone, quickly calling Carlisle to inform him of the news. When the phone picked up, she spoke quickly, “Y/N’s gone. She’s been taken.”

There was silence on the other end before Carlisle spoke, his voice was still calm, but it was lower in tone and held a slight edge to it that only a vampire could pick up, “What?”

Rosalie spoke, knowing Carlisle would be able to hear her, “The front door was opened and her bedroom door was kicked down. She’s nowhere.”

Carlisle’s grip on the phone tightened, but he eased it before he could break the phone. There were tiny dents where his fingers had squished the phone. He spoke in a disturbingly calm voice, “Watch Charlie. I’ll handle Y/N.”

He hung up the phone and returned his grip to the steering wheel. Edward and Emmett had heard the conversation on both ends. Edward was the only one who knew what was going on, Emmett was still trying to catch on. Why was this girl so important?

Carlisle stepped on the gas, carefully not to step too hard so his foot didn’t go through the bottom of the car, as he spoke, “Continue heading to Bella, I’ve got to turn around.”

Edward saw his plan before he could ask. They came up to a dealership just after Emmett asked Edward’s forgotten question, “How are you doing to get there?” When he saw the dealership, he spoke, “Oh.”

Carlisle pulled over and got out of the car, handing the keys to Edward. Edward told him, “Good luck.”

He nodded and Edward moved to the driver’s side before pulling out and speeding down the road again. Emmett was still confused as to why Y/N was so important, but he thought it best not to ask. The answer would probably pop up eventually.

Carlisle disappeared into the car dealership, intent on finding Y/N.

After the long process-- at least, it was long for him --of getting his car, Alice had called Carlisle’s cell. She spoke quickly, knowing he was already listening. “I see her. She’s in her car, in the back tied up. Victoria’s taking her somewhere.”

“Where are they?” Carlisle asked, his tone patient but his emotions anything but. Alice was quiet for a moment, looking closely into her vision before answering, “They’re headed to Seattle.”

“Thank you, Alice,” he told her sincerely. Alice hung up the phone and he sped down the road on his way to her.

Y/N inhaled deeply as she began to open her eyes. They fluttered before finally settling to see what was around her. She looked up and let out a small groan, “Where am I?”

She looked over when a female voice answered, “She’s awake.”

That woke her up completely. Memories from earlier hit her like a train as she went to sit up, realizing her hands and legs were tied up. The bindings were tight, she could barely move her fingers because her hands were tied so close together. She managed to sit herself up with tons of difficulty.

The woman was driving so quickly that all Y/N could make out through the windows were shades of dark green and blue. It was still dark outside, so she hadn’t been out for too long. The speed was enough to make Y/N nauseous as she moved to put her seatbelt on, going as quickly as possible in her panic. She needed to stay calm and the seatbelt was some sort of mundane reassurance.

“Where are you taking me?” She asked, her breath quick with worry.

“Nowhere you need to be in a rush to be. We're going to meet your friends,” the woman responded with a sadistic smile.

“My friends?”

“The Cullens,” she answered her.

Realization hit her as Y/N let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. She spoke in a slight whisper, “You’re a vampire.”

The woman looked in the rear view mirror at her, giving Y/N a view of her crimson red eyes, “Smart girl.”

Y/N gulped, “Are you going to kill me?”

“No, of course not,” the woman said, before shrugging a shoulder and smirking, “Not yet, at least.” She looked back at the road for a moment and Y/N looked around quickly. There had to be some way for her to get out of this situation. She couldn’t defeat a vampire, if she tried anything, she probably would kill her earlier than expected.

Before she could think of anything, the woman’s eyes turned to the mirror again and she frowned, snarling at what she saw. She turned around to see through the windshield in the back. Y/N looked back as well, but she couldn’t see anything. They were going too fast for her to make out a single thing.

The woman huffed and turned the wheel harshly, vastly overestimating the turn before the car swerved dangerously off the road. They were in air for a second and that’s when time seemed to slow.

Y/N was nauseous as she felt herself lift off of the seat as she seemed to float on thin air. A cry left her throat and tears pricked in her eyes as she feared for her life as she thought about the impact of crashing at this speed.

In the second they were in the air, Victoria managed to open her door and dart out of the car, leaving Y/N there. She was already gone before the car even crashed.

The front wheels crashed onto the ground harshly and the nose of the car dug into the soil. It flipped the car over as it landed on the hood, the back of the car propping up against the tree behind it.

Y/N groaned and she smelt the smoke and gas. She moved, but she was stuck and there was a pain in her chest that made it hard to breathe. A strangled cry let her throat as she looked down and saw a large shard of glass sticking out of her chest. Her head spun and she was nauseous all over again.

She looked down at her seatbelt slowly, pressing the button to take it off before falling to the bottom. The glass on the bottom sliced at her skin and she winced. Blood, sweat, and tears covered her. She looked to see if she could find a way out of the car. She could hear the gas leaking out of the car, it would blow with her in it if she didn’t get out.

She ignored the glass and other sharp materials, moving to get to the door, to open it so she could escape. She tried all she could but she couldn’t reach the door, she was trapped.

But then the door ripped off of the car, allowing a passage to escape. She wiggled toward it, but she could barely move, the car was beginning to collapse in on itself and it was weighing down on her.

She could barely see, her vision was blurry and going in and out. It was so hot, it was making her dizzy. She saw a pale form in front of her, but she could make out a face. The form ripped the car apart over her so he could grab her, pulling her out of the car and to safety.

When she was finally out of the car, away from the heat and the gas, a round of coughs rattled through her. The smoke was no longer trying to cloud her lungs as she went to breathe. When the coughs subsided, she blinked until her vision slowly came back to her.

She looked back down at the glass shard in her chest, she brought her hands up, reaching her fingers to grab the shard nervously. When she had a good enough grip, she closed her eyes shut to brace herself.

“No, don’t do that,” a voice said. She knew that voice.

Her eyes flew open and she saw Carlisle, reaching to grab her hands. She reacted quickly, rushing to get away from him. She couldn’t move very well, the bonds wouldn’t allow it.

“No! Don’t touch me!” Y/N screamed, flinching away from the desperate touch of Carlisle. Her eyes were wild, her breathing fast and shallow, her whole body trembling in uncontrolled fear.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Carlisle said, gently taking Y/N’s hands and holding them firmly. Their eyes met. “Listen to me,” he told her, “You’re safe and they aren’t going to hurt you again. I’m here now. Trust me, I won’t let anybody hurt you.”

Carlisle almost expected Y/n to yank her hands away in her panic, but she didn’t-- instead she relaxed a little, tears slipping from her eyes, and let out a breath, “I…”

“It’s okay,” he said, smiled, and pulled her into a hug she didn’t resist. “It’s okay, I’m here.” She calmed the best she could and her exhaustion snuck up on her, causing her to pass out in his arms.

He sighed and looked at the wounds all over her body, then glaring at the glass in her chest. He needed to help her quickly. He took off his jacket, removing the shard and tying it around her chest as tight as he could without suffocating her.

He set her in the back of his car so she could lay down and made sure she was alright. He stepped on the gas and they were off to his house in no time at all.

Y/N breathed in suddenly, her eyes shooting open as she went to look around frantically to see where she was. Her body was in pain, but it didn’t hurt as badly as it did before. A soft, calm, soothing voice spoke to her, “Hey, hey. It’s alright, calm down.”

She looked to see Carlisle hovering over her, cotton in hand as he tried to get her to calm down. “Where am I?” She asked quickly, still working on the adrenaline she’d built up while she was asleep.

“Just relax,” he told her, “You’re in my home.” She took a breath in and allowed herself to lay back again. He gave her a reassuring smile, dabbing the cotton ball against a cut on her forehead. She winced and looked up at him while he worked.

“What happened?” She asked quietly.

He looked down at her, his eyes darker than the honey gold. They were around the same color she saw when she went to the hospital the second time, only they were slightly darker. “You don’t remember?” He asked, just as gently.

She looked down at her chest, there were stitches there that explained the numbness.

The glass shard in her chest from the crash.

She looked at her hand, seeing her bruised wrists.

The rope she was tied in by the woman.

It all came back to her as she looked over herself and then back into Carlisle’s still calming eyes. She remembered seeing those eyes after being dragged out of the burning car by him.

“You... You saved me,” she mumbled, sight disbelief as she stared at the gorgeous man.

“Of course, I did,” he told her gently as he bandaged the cut on her forehead. She had quite a few bandages on her body. She remembered the cuts and scrapes from trying to escape from the car.

She shook her head and blinked, “But...why?”

“I couldn't let you die, Y/N,” he said softly.

“Because you’re a doctor,” she concluded, feeling a little down by the answer.

“Because...it's complicated,” he shook his head and let out a sigh.

Y/N nodded, sighing slightly before wincing from the action, “That’s what Edward said, too.”

“You know our secret,” he stated more than asked. She nodded, “Yes.”

“Edward told me,” he replied.

She looked back at him, “Are you mad?”

He glanced at her, a small smile on his face, “Of course not.”

She managed to crack a joke, surprising even herself, “Just disappointed?”

He chuckled lightly, she felt triumphant about getting a chuckle out of him, “No, not that either.”

She smiled slightly before it dropped again, “Then what?”

Carlisle hesitated, setting the cotton ball down as he looked back at her, into her eyes. He stood blinking at her, lost in thought as if he tried to find out how to respond. He finally spoke, looking away from her as he did, “I’m captivated by you.” He returned his gaze to her curious, sparkling eyes.

“Me?” She questioned, shocked and surprised, “How?”

He chuckled weakly again at how shocked she sounded, “It has a degree of fate in it…” He returned to his work, picking up a cream and rubbing it onto her wrists over her bruises without hurting her.

“Ah, yes. Fate. My favorite thing,” she joked, watching his hands move along her wrists. He genuinely laughed, the two of them relaxing a little more before he turned to her ankles to rub the cream on the bruises there as well.

After rubbing in the cream, he bandaged the bruises and flashed her a smile, “I’m all done.”

She smiled at him, “Thank you, Carlisle.” She moved to sit up a bit more and he helped her so she wouldn’t hurt herself more than she was already hurt.

He shook his head, “There’s no need to thank me.”

She stared at him, memorizing his features like it would be the last time she’d ever see him. Another gaze into his eyes and she remembered the second checkup. He was supposed to be her doctor. She knew his answer was a lie, she just didn’t want to point it out. But she felt a degree of necessity now.

“Why weren't you the one to take my case when I went for my checkup?” She questioned, a soft expression on her face as she examined his.

He sighed and looked down at his hands holding the role of bandages. “You,” he said, only looking up after, “It’s the same reason my ears are a different color than the first time you met me.”

She listened intently, her eyes never leaving him as he spoke, “When I said a degree of fate, that's what I mean... Your blood attracts me. I’ve lived a long existence and I’ve never had to try and hold myself back. It’s how I know…”

She furrowed her brows and he looked down and away from her again. She moved her head so he would look at her again. She threw her legs over the side of where she was sitting so her body was facing him now, “How you know what?”

He looked back up at her, the way she was sitting now put him standing between her legs. Neither of them seemed to notice, though. They were wrapped up in their conversation.

“It’s how I know you’re… my mate,” he finished, watching for her reaction closely. Once again, she was caught by surprise. “I’m-” she closed her eyes and shook her head before looking back up at him, “Like a soulmate?”

He licked his lips with a light chuckle, “More or less, yes.”

She blinked at him, “Me?”

He sighed slightly, furrowing his brow as he gazed at her. He spoke gently, “You really don’t see it?”

She shrugged lightly, “I don't see how you could be… How I could be... You're way out of my league.”

A smile tugged at his lips, “Apparently not.”

“I don’t know what to say,” she chuckled.

He shook his head, “You don’t have to say anything.” He set a hand under her chin, lifting her head a little to see him better before dropping his hand. He spoke in a gentle tone, “You’re perfect for me.” He smiled and kissed her forehead softly.

She gazed into his eyes, the eyes that seemed to turn lighter with every moment that passed, as if her presence was restoring their warm, honey golden hue. She licked her lips, her eyelids fluttering. They were so close now.

“Why did you save me?” Y/N’s voice was barely above a whisper. Carlisle had managed to take her breath away as she tried to regulate it again.

His hands moved to her arms, just above her wrists. He slowly drifted down until they took her hands in his own. Her breath caught in her throat and her eyes darted from his to his lips. Their fingers intertwined as they relished in the slow, sensual moment. Everything was still and calm, nothing was disturbed or had any sign of turning out that way.

It seemed like they would be frozen in place like this before Y/N made the first move, her hands moving from his as her arms wrapped around Carlisle’s neck. She pressed her lips to his, letting out her breath at the relief of the kiss.

Carlisle’s hands fell to her waist, steadying her as he kissed her back. Their lips molded together, moving in sync with each, in perfect harmony. She could feel what he meant about being his “mate”. She could feel that bond, that connection that they held. She was Intoxicated by him.

Her fingers intertwined in his hair, keeping him as close to her as possible. She wanted to feel him against her, his body close to hers in that sensual moment. It was as if the world stopped around them, as if it allowed them to have the moment for as long as they wanted, allowing them their forever.

It took awhile for Y/N to finally pull back to allow her lungs some air. Their eyes were closed, her forehead pressed against his as she caught her breath. He didn’t move from where he was, relishing in her presence. He spoke, his voice a whisper in the air, her words meant for her ears only, “I don't want to lose you.”

That was enough for her as she smiled and brought him back into another life-altering kiss.

#twilight #twilight fanfiction #carlisle cullen #carlisle cullen x reader #carlisle cullen x you #cullen #cullen x female reader #carlisle cullen x fem!reader #female reader #twilight x you #twilight x reader #the twilight saga #fanfiction #fanfic #i may have gotten a little carried away #pls i know #eight thousand eight hundred and twenty fucking words #jesus fucking christ #shaking my head

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twistedtummies2 · 3 years ago

Text

The Mad Doctor of Night Raven (Commission)

Another commission; this is from the same person who created Tock Crockwork and Caelyum in past stories. This time, we introduce another OC of theirs: Xavier Madoc, based on The Mad Doctor from Epic Mickey. This is also my first time properly writing for Idia and Ortho! :D

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“You sure this is everything you need, me hearties?”

“Nya! It better be! Some of this is heavy!” You smirked as you adjusted the box of electronic equipment in your arms. You checked on your companions, who were carrying similar boxes. To your right strolled Grim, the fire-eared, trident-tailed, cat-like imp. He was carrying a very small box - fitting for his size - while yours was more medium sized. A box matching the size of yours was in the arms of your more human comrade: a tall, slender young man with long, fuschia-colored dreadlocks, dressed all in brown. “Thanks for the help, Cael,” you said to him gratefully. Caelyum De Macabre shrugged cheerily. “Don’t mention it!” he chuckled. “For one thing, helping you get this stuff was part of my job at the Mystery Shop. Sam prides himself on having everything; if I couldn’t find something like all this, he might dock my pay.” “Would he?” you blinked. “Probably not, but he MIGHT,” huffed Cael. “And as for carrying some of this…” His smile became more bashful. “...I owe you both. If it weren’t for you all...I might not have been able to reconcile with Mia.” “How is she, by the way?” you asked, tilting your head, then smirked teasingly. “Have you proposed yet?” “Well...um...yes and no?” chuckled Cael, pausing to flick a stray dreadlock out of his face before continuing. “We had a talk about that, actually, and...we decided it would be best to wait to get married till after I finished school.” “Well, as soon as you have your wedding, make sure you guys send me and Grim an invite!” Cael nodded to say he would, then both of you paused as you heard a sort of growly groan come from Grim. “Having trouble, Little Monster?” Cael asked, tilting his own head this time. “I wish people would stop calling me that,” grumbled the imp, and continued to march onward, tail flicking angrily behind him as the blue flames in his ears crackled faintly. “I’ve got it. The Great Grim won’t be defeated by a box!” He paused, blinked, then mumbled: “That’s something I didn’t think I’d say today…” Both yourself and Caelyum snickered.

“Why’d the otaku guy ask for all this, anyway?” Cael asked as the three of you continued on. “It’s for the science expo!” Grim said. “Science expo?” frowned Caelyum. “Idia’s final exam,” you nodded, and explained: “Crowley is holding a science expo here in a couple of weeks, and Idia has to create something for it for one of his classes.” “Well...cool, but why are YOU guys getting it?” “Because the thought of leaving his room multiple times to take multiple trips nearly made Idia have a heart attack,” you answered, dryly. Cael blinked...then sighed. “Yeah,” he muttered. “From what little I’ve seen of Shroud, that sounds about right.” “I hope he appreciates the help,” huffed Grim, and bounced the box of equipment in his little arms as he continued to march forward, moving ahead of you both. “It’s not easy hauling all this from the Mystery Shop all the way Igni-YIPE!” Grim let out a shrill yelp, and fell back onto his bunce; he’d bumped into something, which hit the floor with a crash. The box full of equipment fell to the ground. Yourself and Cael quickly but carefully put down your own boxes and hurried to gather the fallen items and inspect them swiftly, while Grim growled and rubbed his sore haunches. “Nothing’s damaged,” Cael sighed with relief. “Are you alright, Grim?” you asked. “No,” pouted Grim. “My dignity is wounded, and it’s hard keeping it intact as it is.” You smirked affectionately. “Oh my gosh!” exclaimed a new voice. “Are you okay?!” The three of you looked up to see a new figure rushing towards you all. The figure was a young man, dressed in the black-and-blue, informal, leather-jacket-clad dorm costume of Ignihyde. His skin was pale, and he had moppish hair, which had been dyed mint green with blue tips. His eyes were heterochromatic, and similarly colored: one was emerald, the other cobalt. He was somewhat gangly in build, yet handsome in features. “Nya...I’m not hurt, if that’s what you mean,” Grim muttered out, stumbling back onto his hindpaws and dusting off his fur. “I wasn’t talking to you!” the young man snapped, catching Grim off-guard...then knelt down to what Grim had bumped into. “Abe! Abe, are you okay?” The figured Grim had bumped into, you soon realized, was a robot. It was dressed like a porter, and - in contrast to the synthetic skin and almost fully human appearance of Ortho Shroud - had a decidedly mechanical, industrial look: all metal plates and gear-twisting joints. Its face was mask-like, with two yellow lamps for eyes. The robot shook its head with a whirring noise, as if to clear it, then the mute bot - it had no mouth - nodded to the young Ignihyde student. The mint-eyed boy sighed with relief, and smiled at the bot as if it were an old friend, patting its shoulder. Then, he glared at Grim almost childishly. “Why don’t you watch where you’re going?!” the lad snapped. “Me?!” snapped Grim, stomping one foot angrily, ear-fire flaring up. “Your stupid robot was the one who bumped into me!” The green-and-blue-haired youth gasped, looking deeply offended, and hugged Abe close. “Don’t listen to the mean little raccoon, Abe,” he crooned to the bot, stroking the back of its head like it was his child. “You’re perfect just the way you are.” “I AM NOT A RACCOON!” screamed Grim. “I don’t even LOOK like one; why does everyone keep calling me that?!” The student from Ignihyde was too busy fawning over his robot like it was a spoiled child to answer. The robot squirmed, its yellow eyes flickering; you got the feeling that if a machine had the power to blush, Abe would have been doing so from all the attention. Grim pouted and grumbled while yourself and Caelyum stepped closer to address the newcomer, who helped the robot to its feet. The machine called Abe clattered and clanked a bit as the young man pulled a screwdriver out of his pocket and began to check over the mechanical wonder’s form. “Buddy, I keep telling you, you have to make sure to look both ways,” whispered the young scientist. “Maybe some of your circuits need rewiring; it’s like your memory bank has a hole or two in it somewhere. Tch. My fault for using-” “Excuse me,” you spoke up. “Who are you?” The Ignihyde student looked to you...then smiled. “Oh, hey there!” he said, waving with the hand that held the screwdriver. “Name’s Xavier. Xavier Madoc, if you, ah, wanna get all formal and stuff, heh. I’m a, uh, first year here in the dorm. I was just taking my buddy Abe here for a tour around the campus!” He patted his robot’s back; Abe stumbled forward, and rubbed his arm, looking a little nervous as he nodded to you in greeting. Sensing the AI’s anxiety, you gave a disarming smile of your own and bowed your head in return. This seemed to make Abe perk up a bit. “Nice to meet you both,” you said. “Speak for yourself,” mumbled Grim. “Hey, not Abe’s fault you’re an imperfect specimen of biology,” frowned Xavier. Before either yourself or Grim could point out Abe was clearly not a perfect machine, either, Xavier’s eyes lit up with recognition as he noticed the other member of the party. “Oh, it’s you again! Kale, yeah?” “Cael,” De Macabre corrected, with a mild smile. “Is this your presentation for the science expo?” “Pffft! Oh-ho, yeah, like...c’mon. Making artificial life? That’s, like, SO twenty years ago,” Xavier snorted. “Nope! I’ve got somethin’ a whole lot bigger in mind! It’s gonna REALLY put me on the map!” “After how much all those parts cost you, I should hope so,” mumbled Caelyum. “Hold on, back up,” you said, giving a “time out” gesture. “The two of you know each other?” “Only peripherally,” admitted the shopkeeper’s aid. “Just like you guys, I helped Xavier pick out some items for his project.”

“Cool,” you commented. “They work perfectly, by the way!” Xavier butted in, and then giddlily clapped his hands. “Ohhhh, this is gonna Rock. The. World. Like, if there was a world, and my new invention could hold it, it would just…” He made explosive noises as he mimed shaking something in his hands, then puffed them out with a long, whining “Aaaaaah!” noise. “...That would be it,” he declared, grinning from ear to ear. “Nothing is gonna top this one, nothing!” “Well, you seem pretty confident,” you chuckled. “Trust me, if there’s one thing I know...well, actually, I know, like, a lot of things, I guess?” Xavier frowned, turning his eyes heavenward as he counted on his fingers. “I mean, there’s, like mechanical engineering, alchemy, anatomy, welding, potion making, computer science...basically, yeah, if there’s one thing I can do, it’s how to make something awesome. With SCIENCE!” The last word was spoken with great melodrama, complete with Xavier lifting one hand theatrically, throwing his head back with pride and puffing out his chest arrogantly. Abe seemed to roll his eyes at his creator’s hammy attitude. “I wouldn’t get too cocky,” Cael said warningly, as he stepped back to lift his box up off the floor. “Yeah! Especially with all this to contend with,” Grim grinned a little smugly, picking his own box back up as well. Xavier frowned as he saw you lift the third and final box, now looking both curious and perhaps borderline suspicious. “Yeah, about that...what’s with all the toys?” he said, pointing to the box with a slight frown, as if the items within were beneath him. “Is there, like, a kid entering the expo, or are you cleaning out trash…?” You blinked, and the three in your party shared looks. The strange part about that comment was it didn’t sound like it was meant to be an insult. Xavier seriously seemed to see the tools in the boxes as inferior. “These are for Idia. Your dorm head,” you said, slowly. Xavier’s eyes widened, and so did his smile. “Oh! Oh, COOL! So, wait, holdupholdupholdup...you’re saying Idia Shroud - THE Idia Shroud - is gonna come outta his hideout and tussle with the muscle at the contest?” “That’s...one way of putting it, yep,” you answered unsteadily. “That’s TERRIFIC!” Xavier exclaimed, clapping his hands and bouncing on his heels with giddy delight. Abe tilted his head with curiosity, and Xavier, noticing the robot’s reaction, decided to explain. “When I beat Idia, that’ll be, like, the best thing ever!” Madoc told Abe. “I can finally show just how perfect and brilliant my machines are! Abe, it’s gonna be DA BOMB! HA HA HA!” Xavier cackled with almost unhinged delight, pumping his fists. Abe turned his lamplike eyes towards your group. You see what I have to put up with? he seemed to be saying. “Be wary,” Caelyum warned. “You shouldn’t underestimate Shroud: he’s dorm head for a reason. He literally made his own brother, you know; have you made anything that impressive before?” Xavier looked to Cael...and his smile fell. A sudden coldness came over his expression, and his eyes narrowed. “Are you saying my machines aren’t impressive?” he whispered, his voice lowering an octave. “No, I don’t think he’s saying that at all!” you interrupted, sensing the tension and wanting to cut it short. “Just...um...Idia’s not half bad either, you know.” Xavier smirked, but his eyes were still glittering like emerald daggers. “Hmph. He may be dorm head, but he’s got nothing on The Madoc,” Xavier boasted, jabbing a thumb at himself...then, his eyes brightened, and his whole being became exuberant once more. “Hey! Hey, you should totally come see the expo! All of you! That’d be great!” “Then we could see you win, huh?” you smirked right back, already sensing his thoughts. “Well...or see the others lose,” he said with a sinister laugh. “Your choice of how you wanna word it.” “Nya...that seems a jerky way to put it,” grumbled Grim, but no one paid attention to him. “Well, Crowley is probably gonna ask us to do something there anyways, with his track record,” you muttered. “I wouldn’t be surprised if we saw you there.” “Perfect,” smiled Xavier, then cocked his head innocently. “Uh...right, I, ah...yeah, just realized I never got who YOU were?” You gave your name quickly. “I’m Prefect of the Ramshackle Dorm,” you explained, and pointed to Grim. “This is Grim.” “Aww...nice that your dorm allows pets.” Grim looked like he was pondering the many ways he coil make life excruciatingly painful for Xavier Madoc. “Why do you say that?” Cael spoke up. “Does yours not?” “Honestly, I dunno,” shrugged Xavier. “I’ve never had a pet. Never wanted one, really.” He tapped Abe on the chest; the robot - who had been staring off at something on a wall - jumped at the clanking on his abdomen. “I just deal with machines,” he said. “Pets are so...fussy. And unpredictable. You have to feed them and clean up their mess...my machines are clean and easy to handle. A machine can’t leave you or get sick; if there’s a malfunction, just a touch of oil or a twist of a wrench, and it’s all fixed, usually! And, hey, if something breaks, I can just rebuild it!” Abe looked hurt. “Oh, not you, buddy,” Xavier chuckled, patting his metal shoulder. “You’re irreplaceable.” Abe seemed to smile, but since he had no visible lips, you couldn’t tell. “I think it’s a good thing to have pets,” Caelyum argued, then gave a joking smile. “Maybe you should buy a lab rat or something?” Xavier shuddered. “Right, and be around animals AND people? Thanks, I think I’ll pass.” “And you were teasing Idia about leaving HIS hideout?” Grim taunted. Xavier glared at him. “I’m not scared of people,” he protested. “I just...don’t like crowds. I don’t like most people, either.” “You seem to be chatting easily with us,” you observed. “Well...yeah, but…no offense, I’m not gonna be inviting you to my lab anytime soon,” Xavier smiled weakly. “I like my privacy, that’s all.” You weren’t quite sure how to respond to that. “Speaking of,” Xavier went on, without waiting to see if you WOULD respond, “I gotta get back to work: I’ve gotta work out some clibrations for my new invention, then maybe see about modifying Abe’s storage banks, not to mention figuring out a few blueprints for future projects…” “Jeeze, don’t you do anything fun?!” Grim exclaimed. “Science IS fun,” huffed Xavier, sticking his nose up snootily. “And I don’t see a reason to stand here and be insulted by a furball.” While Grim sputtered, offended, Xavier looked to Abe. “Come, my friend!” he called out, theatrically. “Back to the laboratory!” Abe saluted, and he and his creator turned on their heels before marching away. The metallic footsteps of the robot echoed down the hall for several seconds after they vanished from sight. “I don’t like him,” grumbled Grim. “We gathered that,” Caelyum smirked. “He seems...eccentric,” you murmured, then shook your head. “Then again, I guess it’d be hard to find anybody at this school who ISN’T at least a little bit odd.” “He seemed like a good sort to me,” Cael nodded, then frowned thoughtfully. “Perhaps a bit too sure of himself for his own good...not to mention a little too antisocial…” “Hey, I’ve dealt with Idia; trust me, that was nothing on the antisocial level,” you scoffed, as the three of you went down a side passage and headed off to find Idia’s room. “That’s not quite what I mean,” mumbled Caelyum, and then went on, aloud. “You know the donation jar at the Mystery Shop?” “You mean for the Medical Center?” “Yeah,” Cael said. “He didn’t donate anything. That’s not surprising, I guess, and it wouldn’t have really bothered me at all - donations from customers are hit and miss, always - but when I asked him if he’d like to make a donation, his response was…unsettling.” “Nya?” Grim meowed, one ear flicking with curiosity. “And what did he say?” “He said, ‘Sorry, but there are too many people out there to worry about the sick ones.’” You blinked...then scowled. “Okay...that’s...not very nice...and a little confusing,” you murmured. “Yeah,” Caelyum said. “The weirdest part was he then started rambling about the machines in the Medical Center. He seemed more interested in how the machines worked than what they actually did to help people.” You glanced back over your shoulder. Now, you were starting to feel worried. A person that strange, that obsessed, and that sure of his own superiority… ...Suddenly, Xavier’s eccentricities were starting to take a more sinister undercurrent. “Let’s just forget about him,” snorted Grim. “Come on, the scaredy-cat’s waiting!” “Right,” you muttered, then shook your head to clear it, and picked up the pace, this time taking the lead yourself. “Come on, you two...if Idia’s going to have any shot at that science expo - Madoc or no Madoc - he’ll need these parts.’

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Several weeks later, the science expo at Night Raven College commenced. Various students from across the campus were readying their inventions and projects. You had been right, of course: the Headmaster had, indeed, demanded that you attend the expo. As custodians, your job was to help those preparing their experiments, and to clean up any messes that might come up. By some miracle, not a drop of an acid, nor a bit of any base, had yet to stain the floor, and nothing solid had broken. Of course, that could change at any time, so yourself and Grim wandered around the expo, peeking at different experiments on display. A lot of what was being shown you didn’t fully understand - science had never been your strongest point - and, truth be told, the majority of the students involved were not ones you knew personally. There were, however, two familiar faces you were hoping to see. “Nya...where are the Shrouds?” meowed Grim, flicking his tail from side to side and blinking his big blue-green eyes up at you. “Shouldn’t Idia and Ortho have set up their panel already.” “Yeah, they should have,” you nodded. “Maybe they just didn’t get things ready in time?” “Not the way I heard it.” The voice caught your attention, and both yourself and Grim smiled as you saw who it belonged to. “Oh, Cael! So you came here after all, huh?” you grinned. “Yup. I actually invited Mia, but she couldn’t make it; some kind of royal business,” the shopkeeper’s assistant shrugged. “I wanted to see how the items Sam and I sold were being used, so I asked him if I could get out of my job at the Mystery Shop a few hours early to check things out.” “I see. I’m sorry to hear Mia couldn’t make it,” you said, sympathetically. Caelyum smiled gently. “For years I lived without her,” he said, faintly. “Even if we’re not together, my heart will always be with her...and hers with mine…” “Ugh...gag me,” sneered Grim. “You don’t have to make it sound so dramatic, you know; you’re a bigger ham than the guys at Pomefiore!” Cael blushed and you giggled. “Anyway...Ortho told me he and Idia had finished their work,” Caelyum informed you and the imp. “They actually have it stored here at the hall, since they felt that would make it easier for transport and setup.” “That’s strange, then. Even Idia usually isn’t late for these things,” you murmured, looking a little concerned. “He’s not?” Cael asked, curiously. “I would have thought, with his reputation, he would try his hardest to avoid them.” “Well, Idia usually has Ortho attend the Dorm Leader Meetings - and other events - and then uses his computer to do a voice stream from his room,” you explained. “That way he can make his presentations without having to face the crowds directly. There should be no reason for at least one of them to not be-” “Excuse me! Pardon me! Coming through! Thank you!” “Idon’twannagoIdon’twannagoIdon’twannagohelphelphelp…!” Grim turned around fast at the sound of the familiar voices, and tugged on your leg, pointing in the direction they were coming from. Both you and Cael quickly looked in the direction he had indicated, and saw the crowd of students and helpful staff members parting… ...Revealing the form of Ortho Shroud, who all but skipped merrily along through the campus convention hall where the expo was being held, dragging along what looked like an enormous black-and-blue bag. You quickly realized the “enormous bag” was really Idia Shroud, who was lying belly down on the floor. His dead-white hands were holding up his hoodie in a steel-knuckled grip, while his glowing blue, ethereal hair spilled across the floor from under it. Ortho noticed your group soon enough; his cybernetic eyes widened, and he waved, trotting over to three of you. You looked to Caelyum, who was staring bug-eyed, stunned by the bizarre tableaux. You had to admit, it said something that, somehow, you were a lot less weirded out. “Hi ya, Prefect!” Ortho chirped in his electronic way, as he stopped a few feet away from your trio. You could see that, now at a standstill, Idia was shaking like a leaf. “Uhhhh...hi,” you greeted awkwardly. “Nya! Why are you two so late?” Grim grimaced. “And what exactly is going on?” Cael asked, sounding like he was trying not to shout that out in confusion. “Oh! Well, um, Big Brother’s thingamajig that he uses for remote conference? It, uh...kinda had a malfunction,” Ortho said, an embarrassed smile flickering behind the mask-like apparatus on his android face. “Malfunction?” the three of you repeated, looking at each other, and then back at Ortho. “Yeah,” Ortho said, and scratched the back of his head. “My brother convinced a stray cat into our room so he could give it some food...but when he tried to snuggle it, it bolted back out the window, and knocked the device off a table and onto the floor. We...didn’t have time to fix it.” A keening whine from Idia made it hard from you to determine if you should laugh or just feel sorry for the poor, anxious noble son. “Yeesh...and that’s what all this is about, huh?” “Yep!” Ortho siad, cheerily. “Big Brother still has to attend his final for the class, after all! So I made sure to get him here with enough time to set up shop!” Ortho’s chest was puffed out with pride; you swore, if he had a tail, it would have been wagging like a puppy’s. You couldn’t help but smile, even as Grim and Cael both rolled their eyes, crossing their arms over their chests. “Well, good job, Ortho; that’s being responsible!” you said, and playfully patted the boy-like droid’s head; you would never understand how that fire-like hair DIDN’T burn your fingers, but no matter. “I’m sure once he’s done having a panic attack, he’ll be proud of you.” Ortho giggled happily and his eyes crinkled with another sweet “smile.” You now turned your attention to Idia, as Ortho released his leg. The instant, Idia felt his leg being let go, he stopped shaking and froze. Slowly, he rolled onto his back...and huge amber yellow eyes, glowing like warning lights, peered out from behind the hoodie. Idia took one look at the crowd in the hall, and the faces looking at him...and squeaked like a mouse before hiding his face. He clumsily tried to get to his feet and run away...only to let out a shrill, strangled sound as he tripped on his own feet and fell over. Ortho let out an “eep!” and rushed to catch hold of his brother before the computer genius could eat tile. “Nervous, Idia?” Grim drawled with a smirk. Cael couldn’t help but chuckle as Idia whimpered with terror, quivering once again. “P-People,” came Idia’s voice behind his hood. “Too...t-too many people...please...t-take me back to my room...I-I’d rather watch the English dubbing of Ghost Stories than do this…heck, I’d rather play Iron Gear: Survive than be here...!” “Not till you finish your presentation,” Ortho said. “Come on, Big Brother! Show everybody how cool you are!” “I don’t wanna be cool!” Idia nearly sobbed. “Please, not this! Not…” He gulped and nearly choked on the next words. “...T-Talking to people...having them judge me...no, no, not that…” Idia shook his head behind his hood stubbornly. Ortho looked at you helplessly. You sighed and knelt down to Idia’s level. You cautiously reached out to the trembling socially anxious scientist, who whimpered as he felt your hands brush against him, and curled up tightly, as if afraid of being struck. With a sympathetic smile, you carefully parted his hands and pulled down his hood. His face now fully exposed to the outside world, Idia blinked his giant yellow eyes at you with real fear. His dark lips were trembling, and you swore those golden irises were getting a little misty as he looked on the verge of crying with fear. You could hear his shark-like teeth chattering as if winter had come early that year. “Idia,” you said softly, “It’s got to be done, and you’re the only one who can do it.” “Why is that?” peeped Idia, childishly. “Because it’s YOUR creation, Idia,” you said, with an encouraging smile. “No one knows it better than you do.” “Yeah! It’s not like we can talk about all this science-y junk!” Grim broke in...then subsided when Idia reacted by looking hurt, while Ortho gave him an almost murderous glare. “The presentation only has to be a few minutes long,” Cael thought to put in helpfully. “A few SECONDS is too much!” Idia said, and hurried to try and hide his face again...but you prevented it with your hands as you carefully held his wrists. His black-nailed fingers twitched with mortal dread as he looked into your earnest, honest eyes. “Idia, does Ortho know anything about the project?” “Well...n-no, not enough to tell them everything,” Idia admitted, squirming uncomfortably and almost guiltily, like a child admitting he’d stolen five cookies from the cookie jar. “Is there anybody else who could give the presentation on your behalf, with the knowledge you have?” Idia blinked. Those last few words seemed to have stirred something in his breast, and he looked at you anew, blinking a few times, as realization dawned on his pale face. “...No...I guess not,” he said, softly. “Well then?” you urged, tenderly, raising one eyebrow. Idia bit his lip; his sharp teeth almost drew blood. (Almost.) “...But...b-but I’m scared,” he cheeped out, like a wounded baby bird. It took all your willpower not to kiss his forehead. How could a denizen of the Underworld be so friggin’ cute?! “It’s okay to be scared,” you assured him. “Being brave means doing things even though you are scared.” “No, being brave means enduring unpleasant situations without showing fear,” Idia droned. “That’s literally in the dictionary.” “And how brave do you think the Lord of the Underworld was when he fought the Mighty Hercules?” “A lot braver than I am!” Idia replied, without missing a beat, and promptly hid his face again, rolling onto his side, like a child refusing to get out of bed. “I’m not doing it!” You bit your own lip, and looked around awkwardly. A LOT of people were staring, and that was only going to make Idia feel worse. You had to pacify this quickly. “Mr. Shroud.” You blinked up at Caelyum, who knelt down beside you with a reassuring smile of his own. Idia peeked out of his hoodie timidly. “Wh-What?” “Once this is over, I’d be happy to give you a free Jumbo Jar of Jelly Babies from the Mystery Shop as a reward for your efforts,” Cael offered. Idia’s eyes went wide at the mention of so much candy. “...F-Free?” “Yes,” Cael nodded. “I’ll just put my own money back into the shop to make up the expense. BUT,” he said, in a stern, almost parental tone, holding up one finger, “You have to at least try to make your presentation first.” Idia licked his lips, but he still looked uncertain. “...What if they don’t like my creation, though?” he whispered, shivering a little. “They’ll love it, Big Brother!” Ortho declared. “It’s the best thing ever! You’re so smart, it has to be!” “And all three of us,” you thought to add, “Will be there. Myself, Cael, and Grim: we’ll be watching and cheering you on.” Idia squirmed again. “...The watching part I could live without, but…” Finally, at long last...he gave a scared, small, hesitant smile. “...The cheering part...I-I’d appreciate it,” he chuckled, and seemed to perk up a bit. “And, h-hey...I get lots of candy out of it, yeah?” “Sugary gummies galore,” winked Caelyum. Idia paused once more, and took a deep breath, before finally relenting: “F-Fine...I’ll...I’ll try not to screw up...” “That’s the spirit, Brother!” cheered Ortho joyously, and helped Idia to his feet. Idia gave a nervous nod to his brother, then gave you a shy wave and a smile that showed just a hint of his pointed teeth, as the young android led him away to another part of the hall. Both yourself and Caelyum stood to your full heights and sighed with relief. “Sam’s gonna kill me,” he mumbled. “He gets pretty strict with inventory; I think it’s the con-man in him…” “Just don’t make a deal with him, and you’ll be fine,” Grim giggled. “You know, maybe another incentive we could have used was a chance for ‘snuggle time’ with a certain ‘Little Monster,’” you said, airily, giving Grim a teasing smile. The cat-like little beast blushed bright red, and his ears flared up. “Th-That’s not funny, Minion!” he snapped, huffishly, while Cael chortled merrily at the thought. Just then, another laugh was heard from the far end of the hall; you recognized it instantly. “Xavier?” you murmured, remembering the strange scientist from a few weeks ago. “Sounds like the judging has begun,” Caelyum remarked, as he noticed a group of official-looking gentlemen, along with some students, gathered in the area. “Nya! Let’s go see what’s up!” Grim suggested, and loped off on all fours to do exactly that. You and Caelyum shrugged to each other, and followed at a casual pace. You soon came to the panel hosted by Xavier. To one side stood Abe, who had traded out his porter’s costume for a buttoned-up labcoat...although, amusing, he still wore his porter’s cap upon his head. The mechanical man’s mask-like, expressionless, featureless face somehow still managed to look rather bashful as he waved shyly at the mob that now surrounded the corner spot. It was Xavier Madoc himself, however, who most arrested your attention. He stood in front of a table, over which was draped a light gray table cloth...and on top of that was a large, oddly-shaped...something. No one could tell what, exactly, for a second tablecloth - also colored gray - was covering it. Xavier was dressed in a long labcoat, which stretched past his knees and halfway down his shins. Underneath this, the eccentric inventor wore blue jeans and white tennis shoes; the former was held up by a peculiar teal-colored belt. A light gray midriff shirt, with black pinstripes, was perhaps the weirdest part of his ensemble; emblazoned on his chest, upon this shirt, was an unusual design: a black-stenciled image that, on one side, resembled a skull, while the other side resembled a clockwork gear, the two parts meshed together unsettlingly. With his wild, wide grin and the way he bowed to the crowd - more like a circus ringmaster than a distinguished scholar - one couldn’t help but find him a most uncommon figure. “Ladies and gentlemen...and undecided!” he greeted, and laughed at his own joke (no one else did, but he didn’t seem to care) before continuing: “Allow me to introduce myself: I am Xavier Madoc! Also, allow me to introduce my trusty counterpart, Abe! His name stands for Assistant Bot Extraordinaire. Yeah, ha, not the most, uh...SCIENTIFIC name I could’ve come up with, but what can I say? I liked the acronym.” Abe rolled his electronic eyes and nodded to the judges, who nodded back before refocusing on Xavier, who rubbed his eyes as he moved to the opposite side of the table from Abe. “Friends and colleagues of science, let us talk about emotions, shall we?” he began, still speaking in an almost carnival-esque tone of voice, which made Cael roll his eyes and scoff. “He sounds almost like Sam at times,” the Swamplands native mumbled. You and Grim smiled at him, then looked back at Xavier as he began his spiel. “Emotions are a fickle thing,” Madoc said, lifting a finger in emphasis. “Emotions can be our strength, but they can also be our weakness. What a beautiful world it would be if we could all be logical, without those...pesky things like jealousy or greed to spur us in the wrong direction. Even here, in a school of black magic, love is just as revered as vengeance. There is a reason, of course...two, really. One, I would argue, is human frailty. We cannot help ourselves; we are, very tragically, made to be feeling creatures more often than thinkers. But another is perhaps more practical, in this particular world...and that, my friends, is that we need it as fuel. Magic is a powerful entity in our world, arguably more than science, and while it is not uncommon for the two to mesh together, no one has found a way to properly harness the power of the human spirit that allows our magic to work. Well, my friends...I, Xavier Madoc, have found the solution to that quandary!” So saying, Xavier through out both arms in a grand gesture and sang out: “TA-DA!” Silence. Nothing happened. The judges and the crowd just stared at Xavier awkwardly. Xavier blinked, then looked to Abe, who was looking around the room blithely. He frowned and whistled, getting the droid’s attention. “Abe,” he said, and pointed to the table. “You’ll want to take off the tablecloth on that cue, ‘kay, buddy?” Abe nodded, and scooted closer to the table. “Thank you,” whispered Xavier, and tried again, louder: “TA-DA!” A horrible grinding sound was heard as Abe grabbed the tablecloth on the table, nearly knocking over the item under the second veil as he gave it a tug. Xavier yelped for him to stop, and swooped in just in time to right the object before it could crash to the floor. You forced yourself not to laugh; Grim and Caelyum were not inclined to do the same. “So much for ‘the perfection of machines,’ huh?” the fluffy little imp whispered. “Hush!” you scolded...but internally, you conceded he had a point. Abe shuffled sheepishly as Xavier brushed his mint-and-cerulean bangs from his face and gave him an impatient, toothy smile. The dark doctor-in-training could hear some of the crowd snickering, and he hated it. “Not THAT tablecloth,” he said through clenched teeth, and pointed to the device under the covering. “THIS tablecloth. Got it?” Abe nodded, looking like a scared child. “Thank you,” Xavier sighed in frustration, and took a deep breath before trying one more time: “TA-DA!” Finally, Abe swirled off the right tablecloth with great panache. Underneath it was unveiled a strange machine, about the size and shape of the average backpack. Most of it was covered in white leather, but several mechanical apparatuses were jutting from it. Among these were two large copper tanks on either side, several steel cylinders, and two long tubes of tough, transparent rubber, which led from one of the sets of caps into the copper tanks. Two beige-colored leather straps were attached, and it was into these straps that Xavier slipped his long, lanky arms, putting the strange pack on his back. “Introducing my newest invention!” Xavier declared with a beaming, proud smile. “The Emotion Reservoir Power Converter - or ERPC, if you want to shorten it. We can’t all have cool acronyms like Abe, heh...ANYWAY! I would argue that negative emotions have more importance here than positive ones: Blot is the result of an overabundance of black magic use, and much of dark wizardry involves the channeling of negative power. The ERPC can drain small doses of negative emotional energy directly from the subject, and then convert them into magical energy, without the user suffering a state of Overblot!” “Can you give us a demonstration?” one of the judges spoke up. He was a portly man, with spectacles perched upon a crooked nose. “I hoped you would ask that, Dr. Alcott,” Xavier answered with a Devil-May-Care wink, then looked to his robotic companion. “Abe? The book, please!” The robot nodded, and reached into the folds of his labcoat, before handing his creator a small book with a bright pink cover. On it was the title “Princess Pony and the Island of Fluffy Squirrels,” by Lorina Faustus. Xavier blushed bright red and swatted at Abe, who hurriedly put the book away while giggles and chuckles once again came from the audience. “I told you not to…! THE OTHER BOOK, ABE!” Abe quickly fished a second book out: this was a black leatherbound volume with the image of a galaxy festooning its front. Xavier took it and sighed, shaking his head before flipping to a bookmarked page. “Here,” he declared, pointing at the page in question and tapping it with a finger, “Is an excellent example. Keep in mind, gentlemen and ladies, I am but a first year here. The spell I’m about to perform is typically a fourth-year level spell, and I have taken no classes on the subject. Should you wish for confirmation of this later, simply consult the members of the staff on standby today.” Xavier thus cleared his throat, and lifted one hand, extending his thin fingers towards the ceiling before mumbling the incantation in the book. He closed his eyes, furrowing his brow and gritting his teeth, trying to concentrate...his fingers clawed as he flexed them, arm trembling as he forced all the power he could muster into his spellcasting… A dim, murky cloud of purple - shapeless and formless - hovered over the heads of the judges. Specks and blotches of many hues, like splatters of watercolor on a half-burned piece of parchment, appeared and disappeared...before, finally, Xavier gasped and relinquished the attempt, and the colors all faded, the cloud dissipating in an instant. “Haaaaah...a-as you can...ahem...as you can s-see,” Xavier gasped out, wiping some sweat from his brow. “That was hardly an easy task, gentleman...and hardly a good demonstration of that spell. Thankfully, my new invention can allow me to ‘upgrade’ my abilities, through use of my Unique Magic…” He lifted his left hand, the one that he had first used to try and enact the spell, and flexed his fingers as he recited his magic words. “...Paint & Thinner.” There was a flash of turquoise-toned light...and suddenly, Xavier’s left arm had undergone a startling and somewhat disquieting transformation. The fingers and thumb of his left hand had turned into a set of what looked like syringes, the needles resembling claws, his whole hand now seemingly mechanical and metallic. “My power,” Xavier smirked, flexing his taloned hand, “Allows me to extract emotion from a person. This is the ‘Thinner’ part of the equation. The emotional energy is converted to a liquid state. I can, of course, also return the emotions to their original owners, in a gaseous state: this is the ‘Paint’ aspect. Now, I know this is, uh...you know...a little freaky, but...I’m going to need a volunteer.” He handed the spellbook to Abe and added: “My assistant doesn’t exactly have veins to target.” Naturally, at first, nobody stepped forward. Xavier’s expression shifted, and he started to seem crestfallen, perhaps even a little scared… You sighed, shook your head, and stepped closer, raising one arm. “I volunteer,” you said. Xavier grinned, and nodded gratefully. “Thank you, Prefect,” he said, and addressed the audience as - with the clinical care of a master surgeon - he pulled you closer by one arm. “Everyone watch closely, please.” He then looked back at you; his voice was the professional, bland calm of a medical expert as he said the timeless refrain: “This won’t hurt a bit.” The syringes were inserted into your arm. You closed your eyes, trying to relax, remembering all the injections you had gotten. You did not feel the slightest prick as they did their work, and soon, bright green fluid - the color of some toxic acid - was drawn from your very body into the syringe fingers. “Sit down,” whispered Xavier, in the same clinical, almost cold tone, easing you into a nearby chair which Abe had prepared. His actions seemed more dismissive than in the vein of proper bedside manners. You sank into it gratefully. You felt...lightheaded. Cold. Almost ill. You didn’t know it at the time, but before the congregation of onlookers, your skin had suddenly turned very, very pale, and your hair and eyes had lost all color. Even your clothes seemed to have become more faded, causing you to look like a monochrome character from a black-and-white movie. You hoped the sickening, hollow sensation inside you wouldn’t last long as Xavier turned to the audience again. “Generally speaking, draining the emotion from the victim will leave them feeling weakened; enough power drawn can lead to them being rendered unconscious. My machine allows me to withdraw more than I would usually be able to manage in a single dose without even touching the subject, should I wish...but for safety purposes, I think we had better focus on the OUTPUT demonstration. Observe…” He closed his eyes...and suddenly, the syringes emptied, as if the power was being drawn through his arm and into his core...then, the same green fluid bubbled through the pipes, and a slosh came from the copper tanks as your emotions filled them with liquid energy. “Now,” said Xavier, and waved a hand for Abe to open the book and show him the page, as his syringe hand lifted to the ceiling. “Let’s see if the emotional energy I’ve drained from my volunteer can be converted to enough magical power, via the ERPC, for the spell I attempted earlier. Remember, everybody: first year here…” Once again, Xavier lifted his hand to the ceiling...and this time, as he spoke the incantation, the purple cloud became a beautiful circle of deep indigo, revealing the boundless reaches of outer space. Splashes of color became perfect images of planets and stars, so real in appearance one swore they could touch them. In fact, one student DID try to touch one...and yelped, as the sun actually burnt their finger slightly. “Careful,” chuckled Xavier, and then flexed his fingers...and the beautiful image disappeared. He then turned to the judges and, without a word, bowed. He had rested his case. The judges seemed most impressed. Dr. Alcott and the others applauded and smiled, looking quite pleased. However, they had other presentations to attend to, and after a few more perfunctory questions, they moved on. As the judges moved on, and the crowd went with them, Xavier looked two, kneeling down to look at your face. You felt dizzy and queasy, and the look on his face indicated he could tell. He extended his fingers. “Breathe normally,” he instructed, and a faint blue mist poured from the needle like fingers...and you sighed as you felt the ill feeling go away. Steadily, the color flooded back into your being at the same time. “Oh, dear Gods...wh-what was that?” “That was what it was like to be drained of emotional energy,” Xavier said, and gave an anxious sort of smile. “Pretty icky, huh?” “You said it,” you grumbled. “That was a bold decision, Prefect,” Cael observed, as Grim nodded in agreement. Both he and the imp looked rather concerned; they had lingered behind to check on you. Abe placed a mute hand upon your shoulder. You glanced up briefly at the featureless mechanical man, then smiled weakly back at your friends. “Well, he needed someone...who else would have done it?” you reasoned, then shuddered. “I really don’t like needles though…” “Not my fault it’s how my power works,” chuckled Xavier, but obligingly lifted his hand and spoke the counter-curse: “Thinner & Paint.” Another flash of blue-green light, and his hand returned to normal. He gave it a shake, then extended it to you. “Thank you for the help,” he said, sincerely. “Gotta admit, I didn’t expect anybody to put their best foot forward for me like that…” “I’m glad I could start a new custom,” you said, and shook his hand before shakily standing up. “I still don’t feel quite ready for work though…” “Give it a couple short minutes, and it’ll wear off on its own,” Xavier said sweetly. Just then, more applause came...louder than before. The four of you looked; Xavier frowned and the rest of you perked up as you realized who the next contender was… “The Shrouds!” exclaimed Grim. “Let’s see what they are up to,” suggested Cael. “Right,” you nodded, then smiled at Xavier. “Really cool invention. I hope you win!” Xavier’s eyes widened as he looked back at you, seemingly taken aback by the compliment and well-wishes...then smiled awkwardly. “Heh...uh...th-thanks, um...enjoy the rest of the expo. I mean, no one else is gonna be as awesome, but...you know…” You just laughed, and joined your friends, giving Xavier a wave as you strolled towards the Shrouds’ panel. You never noticed how Xavier’s smile faded into a cold, almost lifeless expression behind you while your back turned away. “No one else is gonna be as awesome,” he whispered to himself, forebodingly. Unaware of the ominous moment that had passed, your gaggle descended with the rest of the onlookers to see what the Head of Ignihyde and his “Baby Brother” had in store. Said “Baby Brother” was brushing humming in a vocoded-sounding way (he WAS an android, after all) as he brushed down a machine on the table. The device was not hidden by anything, the way Xavier’s power pack had been, which meant you and all and sundry could take a peek at it. It was...difficult to describe. The shape of the thing vaguely resembled a small ice maker, colored black and gray, but with three glass tubes on the top, each filled with strange fluids in primary colors: red, yellow, and blue. While Ortho dusted it off, Idia, was standing off to one side; his knees were almost knocking together, and his fingers fiddled endlessly with the dangling pullstrings of his hoodie as he stared at the judges, brow bathed in cold sweat. “Okay, Brother-o’-mine!” cheered Ortho, and looked to Idia happily. “It’s all set.” Idia said nothing. He didn’t move. He stared straight ahead, like a statue, still focused unblinkingly on the judges. “Uh...brother?” Idia whimpered, still frozen and shaking. “BROTHER!” shouted Ortho, fire-hair flaring up and turning orange for a second as he stomped his foot in frustration. Idia yelped and jumped about a foot in the air. “IWASN’TTHINKINGABOUTHIDING!” he exclaimed in a jabbering sort of way...then blinked when he saw Ortho’s pouty expression. (How the android could pout with no visible lips was anyone’s guess.) He flushed; Idia never blushed red or pink, but his cheeks turned a sort of bluish-purple color. “C’mon!” Ortho urged, and gestured towards the group. “They’re waiting.” This did not seem to encourage Idia, who flinched and looked nervously at the impatient judges. “I...um...uh...w-well, uh...aha...er…” You frowned, glancing with concern at Grim and Caelyum; the former matched your expression, while the other mostly looked bored. This was not going well. A thought came to you, and you stepped forward slightly. Idia must have heard your approach, because his eyes quickly darted to see you, and the encouraging smile you gave. Suddenly, he seemed to relax...but only VERY slightly. Idia was the sort to fear he was BREATHING too loudly and that would get on people’s nerves, he could only be so calm. Still, it helped enough for him to clear his throat and begin talking. “Ahem...s-sorry, ladies and gentlemen,” he said, with a nervous smile, tapping his fingers together childishly. “I’m, ah...not used to this sort of...front and center kinda thing, heh...honestly, I wish I were hiding under my blankets right now...BUT! But, ah...I think the device I’ve made will at least be of interest…” So saying, Idia seemed to pluck up some courage. Your own smile widened as he placed a hand on the machine, and his stance straightened. If there was one thing that Shroud could talk about with SOME pride, it was his work. “I don’t need to tell all you that, uh...th-that the source of magic for m-many wizards and witches is their magic crystals, right? Right. So, ah...I, well...I got to thinking: the problem with the crystals is they can...well...run out. We have to mine for them, we have to dig for them, and there’s always a chance that someday...y’know...th-there might not be any left. Which would...kinda suck, ha. SO! I decided to try and create SYNTHETIC crystals…” He tapped the tubes on the top of the machine. “With these three simple potion compounds, mixed together in the right order, I can...well...do that. Using this machine.” “Would you say there are other advantages to this idea?” Dr. Alcott spoke up. “Oh, y-yes!” Idia said, starting to smile as he realized he had someone’s interest, though he seemed a bit nervous when he noticed the way the other judges scribbled some quick notes down. “Ahem...yes, sir. See, with synthetic crystals, not only do you not need to dig them up, but...well...if you have these compounds, and this machine, you can make as many as you like.” “Well, yes,” Dr. Alcott nodded, “But are they any more advantageous than natural crystals?” Idia paused, as if to think on his answer, then nodded slowly. “There is one other thing,” he said, almost shyly. (Well...there was no “almost” about it, this was Idia Shroud, but you gave him the benefit of the wiggle room anyway.) He paused before steadily elaborating: “Synthetic crystals do have a couple of weaknesses. They are not as physically strong as natural ones, for a start, the same way synthetic gems are not as strong as real jewels. You also can’t make them as large as natural crystals, because with the compounds being used, they can become unstable. But, at the average size of the average magic crystal…” He pointed to the one he wore himself, on his arm, before continuing. “...It can actually last longer than a natural crystal. It...well...um...I don’t know how to explain it, actually, but my experiments have shown that...well...you can use them for a longer period of time before worrying about Overblotting.” “Well, that’s definitely an advantage,” smiled Dr. Alcott, seemingly impressed, then turned serious as he scratched a few notes down before speaking again: “Can we see how this machine works?” “Y-Yes! Yes, of course!” nodded Idia...then tapped Ortho on the shoulder. “Little brother? Um...w-would you do the honors?” He then added in a whisper, “I’ll probably mess up…” Your smile became slightly less proud: Idia was still Idia. Ortho just giggled. “You can’t mess up turning the machine on, Big Brother!” he teased quietly, but still obeyed, pressing a button on the contraption. A loud whirring sound was heard, and the potions in the tubes bubbled and then began to lessen in volume; you could hear the sound of fluid being stirred and mixed, followed by the low humming buzz of another item either cooling or heating the stuff inside the machine… ...It only took about two minutes - during which the judges’ attention was raptly focused on the device, and several in the crowd mumbled to one another with interest - and then, with a rattle and a clatter, a teardrop-shaped, transparent, pale blue crystal dropped into a tray inside the machine. Idia opened the lid and pulled the crystal out of the tray, holding it up for everyone to see, then offered it to the judges, who inspected it closely. Finally, Dr. Alcott handed the artificial crystal back to Idia with a smile. “Fine work, young Master Shroud,” he nodded in approval. “Fine work indeed.” The other judges and the audience applauded. Idia smiled bashfully, tucking his head down and mouthing a quiet word of thanks as he hugged the crystal to his chest. Ortho, noticing the way his brother was shaking, gave him an encouraging hug as the mob and the judges - still chatting betwixt themselves - moved away. Once again, yourself and your friends stepped forward, all of you wearing matching grins. “I’m so proud of you!” you cheered, and gave Idia a hug. You felt the eldest Shroud freeze up in your embrace, and couldn’t help but smile still wider; Idia, bless his heart, still wasn’t used to much physical interaction, and you could feel him starting to twitch. You gave him a very gentle, comforting squeeze, and rubbed his back reassuringly. Only then did his arms steadily move upwards to gingerly return the hug. “Nya!” Grim called out happily, trotting over with a wide grin, purring up at the fire-haired Ignihyde head. “You did a lot better than I expected!” “An interesting invention, too,” Cael complimented. “I’m sure you’ll end up with first place!” “Oh, I-I dunno,” mumbled Idia, rubbing one arm and squirming slightly with embarrassment. “I thought Madoc had a pretty cool creation, too…” “His was neat,” nodded Grim, “But I think yours is better.” “His energy converter DID have one noticeable issue,” Cael thought to add, glancing back towards Xavier’s panel - by now, the odd scientist and his assistant had turned their attention away, and were seemingly polishing the power pack. “It depends on HIM in order to work. No one else would be able to use it: it’s not something you can mass produce, because no one else has his Unique Magic.” “That’s true,” Ortho spoke up. “But hey! The basic idea isn’t bad; with a little adjusting, he could make it something really special for everyone to use!” “If he cares enough to try,” mumbled Grim; he subsided at the look you gave him. “It’s up to the judges, and the contest has just started,” you said, crisply, then smiled at Idia once more. “Whatever happens, you did good. Don’t doubt that.” Idia smiled sweetly. “Th-thank you,” he whispered, then glanced at the crystal in his hand and back up at you...before offering it cautiously. “Would you...like a souvenir? Heh…” You chuckled, and took the crystal, placing it in your pocket. “Sure,” you said. “Thanks, Idia.” “Y-You’re w-w-welcome,” stuttered Idia, looking like he was scared of feeling too happy. He paused and cleared his throat with a cough before reaching into his hoodie’s pocket, pulling out his cell phone. “Well, um...I wanna catch up with a new show I’m watching, so...I’m, uh...y’know...gonna go find a nice, safe corner till the judgment call comes, and...well…ju st, uh...exist, heh…” “Can I watch with you, Big Brother?” Ortho peeped hopefully. “Sure,” Idia said with a smile and a nod, then gave you the same gestures before scurrying away, looking like he couldn’t wait to get away from everything that had the power to breathe. Yourself and your two companions chuckled and gave a collective mock salute to the Shroud brothers, as Ortho followed Idia quickly. Then, still chattering amongst yourselves, you hurried to rejoin the group and see what else was at the exposition… None of you were aware of Xavier Madoc’s eyes following the mob’s movements, before glancing back at Idia’s device. One could have sworn his one green eye flashed.

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The exposition had come to an end, and after two hours of deliberation, the judges were ready to deliver their verdict. The contestants had lined up on either side of the room, while the audience sat in chairs before a podium. Yourself, Caelyum, and Grim all took seats in the second row (the front row had filled up too quickly) and watched as Dr. Alcott approached the podium, adjusting his spectacles and shuffling some papers in his hands. You glanced to the right. Along with the other contenders at the expo, Idia and Xavier were naturally lined up, both on the same side of the hall. Xavier stood with a cocksure smile, arms crossed, while Idia was nervously twiddling his fingers, biting his lip with his dagger-like teeth. He looked towards Xavier and smiled nervously. “S-So, uh...may the best man win, huh?” he said, awkwardly. Xavier didn’t even look at the dorm head as he narrowed his eyes and simply said, “Don’t worry. I will.” Idia looked a bit befuddled. Abe and Ortho - who stood beside their corresponding creators - looked at each other and shrugged. The sound of Dr. Alcott brought your attention back to the podium. “It’s time,” Cael and Grim murmured at the same time, as the lead judge addressed the audience, crooked nose pointed high. “Friends of science,” the doctor began, “I am not one for grand speeches or over-sentimentalizing the talents we’ve seen on display here today. Virtually every experiment we viewed today, every invention created or formula concocted, was of interest.As far as those doing this for an assignment go, my supposition is you will all pass with flying colors. However, there can only be one winner: one person to leave this exposition a proper champion.” He snapped his fingers and one of the other judges stepped up beside him, and handed him a trophy, with a golden ornament resembling a ringed planet. “Ladies and gentlemen,” Dr. Alcott intoned, “The winner of the Annual Science Expo is…” Xavier smirked, and straightened up his labcoat, taking a deep breath, as if ready to thank everyone… “...Mr. Idia Shroud!” Xavier froze, the smile seemingly slapped from his face as his eyes widened. Idia’s eyes widened too, and he gasped in surprise as the crowd applauded. One could almost see tears in his eyes as he realized what had happened. Yourself and your party cheered as Ortho nudged Idia up to the podium to accept his trophy, which he did with trembling fingers. You were grinning from ear to ear, and so was Idia; his shark-toothed smile had never been wider, you felt, nor more genuine in nature. His amber eyes sparkled like a pair of glittering gold coins. As Dr. Alcott began to congratulate Shroud - who was hugging the trophy to his chest almost like a teddy bear - you turned to see the other contenders. Most of them - including Abe - were clapping politely. The only exceptions were Ortho, who was literally dancing with joy… ...And Xavier Madoc. He looked absolutely livid. His face was almost as red as Riddle Rosehearts’ could get, his fists clenched, one eye twitching as he gritted his teeth angrily. His mismatched eyes were burning… You felt your blood run cold as the blue eye was surrounded by a matching aura. “Grim!” you hissed, tapping the feline-like creature on the side. Grim turned fast...and his ears flattened back and he mewed as he saw droplets of ink dripping from the magic crystal Xavier wore… “Oh, no,” he gulped nervously. “What’s wrong?” Caelyum whispered...then frozen when he saw the same. “Oh, barnacles...is that…?” “Overblot,” you replied, gravely. “Here we go again…” Just as Dr. Alcott shook Idia’s hand, and was about to dismiss him, Xavier suddenly let out a screeching cry of apoplectic rage, which startled everyone present. All eyes watched as the white labcoat of the first-year science master flapped behind him like the wings of a huge war bird, as he flew back towards his panel, and hurriedly strapped the ERPC to his back. “Unacceptable!” he shouted. “I will not allow it! I WILL NOT ALLOW IT! No one outsmarts me! NOBODY! My machines are perfect! My work is superior in every way! And if you doubt that - if ANYONE STILL doubts that…!” A feral grin came to his face as he extended one arm. “...Then I’ll just have to prove otherwise, won’t I? Paint & Thinner.” A flash of turquoise light was immediately followed by an explosive sound. KA-ZAM! A gale wind ripped through the hall, as a swirl of black mist surrounded Xavier Madoc; you cursed violently under your breath as blue and green light burst through pockets in the spiraling cloud of inky darkness. No doubt Xavier’s strong emotions and the level of magic he had put out earlier had blended together, and with the power pack on, he could burn through magic and cause damage with greater force and strength than you could guess. “Brace yourselves!” you called to Caelyum and Grim, as everyone else in the hall dove or ducked for cover. “This isn’t gonna be easy!” “Is it ever?!” Grim yowled, while Cael simply squinted, watching with you as the mist began to clear… ...And soon, you could see the change that had come over Xavier Madoc. The right side of his body had seemingly not changed at all...but the left was another story. Not only was there now a blue aura surrounding his left eye, not to mention the metallic, syringe-tipped left hand...but his whole left side seemed to have become a cyborganic nightmare. The left side of his face was covered in metal plates, and his entire left arm and leg had become robotic in nature; the clothes on the left side of his body were seemingly frayed and shredded, exposing portions of a metal chest and clockwork-esque innards. In-between the joints of his limbs and face, black ink oozed like oil. Xavier’s one green eye was feral looking; bloodshot with a pinprick pupil. He grinned in a manic way, and let out a cackling laugh that rebounded off the hall walls. “HA HA HA HA HA! You dared to overlook my creations?! You spurned my talents, eh?! Then let me show just how powerful I can REALLY become!” he roared, and the ERPC roared to life as he thrust out his syringe hand. “I told you, I can extend my unique abilities without proximity! So now...NOW, ALL OF YOU, GIVE ME YOUR POWER!” In horrific fashion, the needles extended...and five members in the crowd collapsed as they were pricked, turning gray and pallid. Their entire being became monochrome as, in a split second, all emotion was drained from them and into Xavier’s being. Xavier shot out his claws again, the protracting talons jabbing into another five people and rendering them the same. Now, panic set in, and people screamed as they raced for the door. “Don’t leave in such a rush!” laughed Madoc, and snapped the fingers of his one human hand. The doors suddenly shifted, becoming solid walls, and all the windows clicked as they were locked into place. “The party’s just beginning!” Xavier’s claws lunged at you now, but yourself, Grim, and Cael all quickly dropped, ducking the attack. Three other people who had been standing behind you, along with two more, were drained in your stead. Xavier shuddered, a toxic aura surrounding him as the tanks were filled with more and more emotional energy. “More...MORE!” he bellowed. “If I can’t have your respect, I will have your rage...your despair...your panice...fuel me! FUEL ME!” Idia and Dr. Alcott ducked behind the podium with twin yelps. Ortho hurried to check on his brother, and barely avoided the needles as they shot out. The other judges weren’t so lucky, and crumpled in an unconscious, grayscale-colored heap as their emotions were drained. Abe rushed forward to try and stop his creator, desperately grabbing hold of Xavier’s one human arm. Xavier snarled, gnashing his teeth. “Imbecile and traitor!” he roared into the droid’s pleading face. “I have no further use for YOU!” Xavier jerked away his human hand, then, with a sneer, thrust it out again...and - THOOM! - a magical shockwave slammed into Abe’s chest, sending the robot flying. He crashed down beside your trio, the three of you still lying on the ground as Xavier continued to stick his needles into everyone who moved. The room was in a panic, the other contestants’ creations smashing on the floor as people dove for cover. Slowly, Xavier began to make his way through the hall, laughing dementedly. “All this over a freaking trophy?!” hissed Grim. “I think there’s got to be more to it,” mumbled Caelyum. Abe nodded, as if to confirm this, and then gave you a look as if to ask, Now what? This was the burning question; you had to figure out a way to keep Xavier from hurting more people, as well as remove the power pack. As long as he still had the converter on, his power wouldn’t drop. He could potentially stay in Overblot for a much longer period of time, burning the power almost as quickly as he got it...growing just strong enough to overwhelm… “Okay, I’ve got a plan,” you said at last, and whispered to your compatriots. “Listen closely…” Xavier, meanwhile, grinned as he approached a group of people, huddled together. “Let’s try an experiment,” he hissed, a mad grin on the young doctor’s face as he lifted his syringe hand. “I now know how swiftly I can drain an organism...now, can I make it more slow and painful?” He cackled, his victims babbling pleas for him to stop as he lifted his hand, preparing to shoot out the razor-sharp needles and drain them dry. “Every emotion in your body...slowly siphoning into mine...let’s see how long it can really-” FWOOSH! “Nya! Back off, crazy-coat!” Xavier jumped back with an almost animalistic sneer, and swirled his ragged cape around as he looked towards the source of the fire that had distracted him. Grim was standing in a ready pose, balls of blue flame held in each forepaw as he smirked challengingly. “Insufferable hairball!” shouted Xavier. “I WILL NOT BE DENIED! I WILL HAVE MORE POWER!” He lunged at Grim, swiping with his robotic talons, but Grim moved aside quickly. As Xavier plunged towards him, a loud smashing sound was heard from behind. The mad doctor turned quickly, and his one good eye widened in surprise as he saw that Abe had kicked a hole clear through the wall, and was ushering people through the hole and out of the area, Idia and Dr. Alcott leading those still conscious to safety. “NO!” shouted Xavier, and shot out his needles...but he was just too late as Abe blocked him, giving him a determined glare as they scratched helplessly against his armored plating. Then, giving Xavier an almost pitying expression, the robot leapt through the hole himself. Xavier moved to try and give pursuit, but Grim thrust out his arms, and formed a wide ring of fire that blocked the scientist’s path. “You think this will stop me?!” Xavier bellowed. “You can’t defeat me! My invention gives me power beyond yours!” “Good to know. I’d hate to have to refund anything.” Xavier stopped short and glanced about, trying to find the source of Caelyum’s voice...before, suddenly, he felt a strange sensation brushing up against his legs. He looked down...and screamed in a mixture of panic and rage as a horde of marble white Locker Crabs began to swarm over him, their pincers latching onto parts of his clothing and the edges of his inkstained metal carapace, trying to drag him to the floor. “GET OFF ME, YOU CRETINOUS CRUSTACEANS!” yelled Xavier, trying to kick and swat away the crabs, unaware of the shadow that stepped through a gap that formed in the flames, and approached from behind. The crabs snipped their claws at the leather straps holding the ERPC in place. Xavier slapped them away...then jerked as, suddenly, the weight of his invention was pulled away. “WHAT?!” he spat, and turned around fast, pupils pinpricks as he saw you jump backwards, holding the device in your hands. “NO! NO, YOU-GACK!” He hit the floors as the crabs tripped him up. You scampered back through the gap in the flames, which Grim soon closed up. The little monster was jumping up and down, pumping his forepaws/fists and cheering. “NYA! Get ‘im, Cael! Pin ‘im down!” the cat called. “We’ve won now!” A low laugh from under the swarm of Locker Crabs knocked the smile from Grim’s face. “Won? Hardly. I’m still getting warmed up!” ZAM! Xavier sent out another shockwave with a loud shout. You toppled onto your back, the ERPC falling from your hands and thunking onto the floor. The crabs scattered, and the flames were extinguished as Grim was sent rolling across the hall. You quickly sat back up...and shuddered. Xavier loomed over you, the acid-colored aura around him showing his fury as trails of spilling ink traced his steps. You snatched up the ERPC and scrambled to your feet, making a dash for the whole in the wall. “NOT SO FAST!” roared Madoc, and lifted his human hand. He screamed some foreign incantation, and the shattered section was suddenly patched up, the debris flying back into place, stitching together like a jigsaw puzzle’s corners. You swerved and made a dash for a window; you could break it, after all, even if it was locked. Xavier snarled out another incantation, however...and teleported directly in front of you. You skidded to a halt, but not fast enough as he grabbed hold of your arm with one hand, and lifted his syringe claws, a wild grin on his cyborganic face. “HA HA HA!” he cackled. “What a foolish attempt that was! You truly thought you could defeat me?! I will drain you till your very soul is rendered inert! Nothing can resist my power! With the ERPC, I can remain like this for eternity! And when the world grovels at my feet, I will build more machines! BRILLIANT machines! My mechanical creations will-!” FWOOMPH! A burst of flame slammed into Xavier, bowling him over and singing his labcoat. You fell back down and scrambled away as you held tightly to the power pack. Xavier snarled as he stood back up, his mechanical pieces clicking and sparking...as the two of you saw who had re-entered the room. It was Idia Shroud; Ortho had evidently picked the lock on one of the windows, and the pair had climbed through. Idia was visibly trembling, but tried his hardest to look brave, twists of orange curling through his ethereal blue hairdo. “Leave. Them. Alone,” Idia intoned. Madoc sneered. “First you steal my prize, now you RUIN MY MONOLOGUE?!” he yelled. “Alright! Just for that, I WILL OBLITERATE YOU!” Xavier charged at Idia, but the head of Ignihyde narrowed his eyes, gritting his sharp, jagged teeth. His hand shook as he held it, as if showing doubt… ...Then, his stance and expression hardened, and the shaking stopped. Just as Xavier Madoc leapt through the air, swiping his syringe claws through the air...he snapped his fingers. KRAK-KOOM! An explosive blast of fire and noise, like a grenade had gone off, erupted directly before Madoc. The explosion sent the mad scientist flying backwards, his labcoat tattered and scorched, black marks on his skull plates. Xavier cried out as he slammed headfirst into a wall...then crumpled to the floor, and fell still. He was out like a light. The mad doctor was done. You sighed with relief and stood up as Ortho cheered. “WOO-HOO! Way to go, Big Brother!” he exclaimed, and gave Idia a smack on the back. The hunched head of Ignihyde flinched and smiled shyly at his artificial sibling. “It was nothing,” he whispered faintly, visibly blushing. “Are you okay, Prefect?” Ortho asked. “I’m fine,” you nodded as you approached them, and glanced around. “Where are the others?” Right on cue, a low growl was heard. The three of you looked to see Grim was just sitting up, massaging his skull after evidently banging his head during his tumble. “Me-owwwww…! That creep hits way too hard!” he moaned out. “Did anybody get the number on that-MREOWR?!” He was cut off as Idia scooped the imp up and began to snuggle him, crooning and planting chaste, loving kisses on his head. “Awwww, the poor wittle kitty!” he cooed sympathetically. “Did you get an ouchie? Did the mean cyborg hurt you, huh?” “HISSSSS! I’M FINE!” Grim spat, kicking and squirming. “L-Lemme go! For the last time, I DON’T LIKE SNUGGLES, STOP!” Idia just let out a happy hum, squeezing Grim, repeatedly crooning, “Awww, poor thing, you poor little dear…!” over and over again. Ortho giggled sweetly, while you just rolled your eyes and smiled. A skittering sound heralded the reappearance of Caelyum, who reformed out of a pillar of white sand crabs. He stumbled on his feet as he returned to his normal state, and you placed a hand on his shoulder to steady him. “You okay?” you whispered. “No,” mumbled Cael, and smiled wearily. “When I use the power that way, a fraction of my will - my mind - is in every single crab. I feel like I just got thrown through the loop-the-loop of a roller coaster seventeen times.” You gently patted his shoulder and smiled back, gratefully. “Walk it off, matey,” you said softly with a wink. Cael chuckled. “Aye,” he nodded, as your group moved to look down at the defeated Xavier Madoc. “I will.” For several seconds, the ink-leaking cyborg lay on the ground, unmoving. But that was alright: none of you were expecting him to move. By now, you knew the drill of how things worked after Overblot...and sure enough, after a few seconds, wisps of silvery-white mist began to drift up from the defeated scientist, as his whole body began to glow a blinding white. All of you shielded your eyes from the light, watching as the mist began to spiral, and soon enough, images formed in the center of the floating cloud. Pictures from the past… “Dad! Dad, look at this!” A tall, thin man in white, with a pointed goatee, looked down from the workbench he was stationed at. He smiled as a small boy - with mismatched eyes of blue and green - came waddling into the room, holding a piece of paper. “What is it, Xavier?” “I made a blueprint, dad! I wanna make a robot! Like one of yours!” squeaked the young Xavier, and held out the paper to his father. “Do you think it’s any good, Dad? Do ya? Huh?” The older man lifted the paper and looked; he chuckled at the untidy crayon scrawl drawn on the page, the acronym “A.B.E.” accompanying a childish drawing of a metal man in a porter’s outfit. “Not a bad idea, Xavier,” he complimented his son, and handed the “blueprint” back to its creator before ruffling his son’s hair. “You’ll make a fine inventor, at this rate.” Xavier giggled, playfully swatting at his father’s hand, then gave him a wide but shy smile. “You promise?” he peeped. “Could I...could I be as good as you, Dad?” “No,” the man answered, and leaned down, kissing his son’s forehead. “You’ll be even better.” The child’s happy hum was interrupted by the shifting of time, as a new image spun into view: Xavier was a little older now, and working in a laboratory. He whistled as he fitted a screw into place on a device he was building...only to freeze as he heard voices coming from outside the shop. Curious, he trotted over to the door, and peeked outside. He could see the shadows of two men, arguing not so far away, and heard what they were saying. One of them he recognized as his father’s voice… “Oscar, you can’t be serious!” “I’m sorry, Xander,” the other voice said. “All I know is that Charles got to me first. What would that tell you?” “That Charles is a faster runner,” droned Xander. Xavier giggled softly, but clapped a hand over his mouth to avoid being heard. “Very funny,” Oscar’s voice drawled. “I’m serious, Oscar. You KNOW me, we’ve worked together for years! Are you going to take his word over mine?” “Right now, I haven’t got a choice. His patent has been in development at my company for a while; all that’s left are i’s to dot and t’s to cross. Even if what you say is true, Xander, he finished his work more quickly; I’m not seeing a lot of incentive here.” A pause. “...So that’s it then?” came the terse voice of Xavier’s father. “What about my family, Oscar? What about my son?” “Relax, Xander. You’ll come up with more inventions, you always do, and I’ll be just as willing to buy!” “Forget it. I’ll find another person to sell to.” Another pause. “...Okay. Okay. If that’s how you feel about it,” came Oscar’s weak reply. “Goodbye, Xander.” “Goodbye, Oscar. Tell Charlie he knows where to stuff it.” Oscar’s shadow disappeared, and a few moments later, the sound of a door was heard opening and closing. Xander was heard sighing, and Xavier saw his father’s silhouette slump into a nearby chair. Curious, the boy trundled out of the room to his father’s side; the older inventor was sitting with his head in his hands, massaging his brow. “Dad?” peeped Xavier. “What was all that?” Xander blinked at his son. “Oh. You...heard that, huh?” Xavier nodded slowly. Xander blinked...then sighed and picked his child up, placing him in his lap. “Listen to this, Xavier, because it’s very important,” said the doctor to his son. “Not all inventors are good. You must guard your inventions well, and you must always do your best to make sure no one can top you. People will try to steal what you make, people will look for weaknesses in it. Never let them find any way to stop you.” He placed a hand under his son’s chin and gave a sad smile. “You’ll be brilliant someday...but with brilliance comes danger. You can’t trust anyone, understand?” “I can trust you.” “Of course,” chuckled Xander. “And I can trust my machines,” added Xavier. “Well, yes, but a machine isn’t a person,” Xander said. “Machines only exist to follow their programming. Machines will always do what they’re supposed to. Machines will only let you down if people making them make mistakes. People aren’t like that: people are flawed, and people are foolish. They will pass you over and cheat you if they find a way or reason. Never let that happen. Okay?” “Okay, Dad. I’ll do my best.” The scene shifted again. Xavier was now much older, nearly the same age as he was now. Abe now stood at his side as he worked on a project in his laboratory, building a new machine. “This is going to be the greatest thing ever!” he cheered, grinning to his mechanical companion, who nodded in happy agreement. “Just think of how much fun the science fair will be with this completed! Ha Ha! Man, Abe, we have this in the bag!” “Hi, Xavier!” The pair looked towards a new face that had entered the lab: a fellow youngster in red. “Oh, hey, Gus! What’s up? Shouldn’t you be getting ready for the science fair?” “I haven’t figured out what to do yet,” sighed the boy sadly, then smiled weakly. “So, uh...I thought, well...maybe you could help me come up with an idea. I mean...you’re like a billion times better at this stuff, heh…” “Sure, I can help!” smiled Xavier, helpfully, and clapped his hands together, dusting them off, waving for Abe to go fetch a few books. As the robot marched off, the teen in red noticed the item on the workbench. “Hey, what’s that?” “Huh? Oh! It’s my project for the science fair. Looks pretty cool, right?” “Yeah! What’s it do?” Xavier explained quickly. The lad looked envious of his science-savvy friend. “Wow...I’ll never figure out how you can do all that stuff...you’ve gotta be the best inventor ever!” “Awww,” blushed Xavier. “It’s just a knack.” “Can you show me how you make it?” the teen asked, hesitantly. “Sure, if you want,” Xavier said, blithely shrugging and smiling. “Then I’ll help you figure out what you’ll do yourself. Sound fair?” The boy smirked; Xavier didn’t notice the cunning in his eyes. “Yeah. That sounds fair,” the classmate answered. The scenario changed once more. Xavier now glared with absolute hatred at the boy in red...who was smiling, chest puffed out with pride, as he showed off his machine to the judges, who cheered and applauded. It was a machine identical to the one Xavier had made...and the boy had made it first. Xavier had been forced to change his plans, and the experiment he’d come up with at the last minute had been sub-par. The cheat got first place. Xavier got nothing. Xavier snarled, fists clenching as the boy in red smirked in a sidelong way at him, and mouthed the word, “Sucker,” before continuing to bask in adulation. Xavier Madoc scowled as he packed up his items. He was shaking a little. “You can’t trust anyone,” he whispered to himself. “Well, you’ll see...you’ll ALL see...I’ll come up with something no one else can top. I will PROVE to you how good my science is. Just wait and see…” His mismatched eyes burned as he turned his back on the laughing classmates and applauding teachers...and stalked back to his lab. Alone. With his machines. “...I don’t need anybody. Just my machines.”

The mist cleared and evaporated, and the white light faded...revealing Xavier Madoc had changed back to normal on the floor. He was still unconscious, but the glow was gone from his blue eye, and the machinery parts had vanished. Silence reigned for a few seconds. This was not unheard of. By now, you had accepted there was always a “digestion period” where everyone was taking in what they’d just learned. This time, however...the silence stayed unbroken. No one spoke a word, looking like they were trying to properly form thoughts, even as Xavier began to stir again. As he did, he reached out with a hand, fumblingly, mumbling incoherently… ...And froze as someone knelt down and took that hand. Xavier looked up...and seemed stunned when he stared into the wide yellow eyes of Idia Shroud. For a moment, the two looked at each other...then Xavier pulled away with a sneer. “Cheat,” he hissed. “I never cheated,” whispered Idia, sounding surprisingly confident for once...confident, but careful. “It’s not that no one recognized you, Xavier; no one was trying to neglect you. It’s just...there could only be one winner. And I happened to be it.” “It wasn’t an easy decision, either,” added Ortho. “Oh, no?” Xavier grimaced, looking skeptical. “No,” Idia answered. “Dr. Alcott spoke to me before I returned: you would have been second place. Your invention really impressed him and the other judges, they just...felt mine was more easy to use widespread. Yours needed a few tweaks for them to give it the topmost prize.” “They said they couldn’t have asked for a better start to the expo than you,” added Ortho, in a quiet, helpful voice. The bitterness in Xavier’s face had faded slightly, leaving his expression blank and cold. He turned away quietly, and hugged himself, curling up against the wall. “You can’t shut yourself out because of one bad incident,” whispered Caelyum. “Trust me: I know what it’s like when you seal off your heart. It doesn’t get pretty.” “No one is invincible,” added Grim. “Well...except for me, but...that’s because I’m awesome.” You rolled your eyes at the hubris of “The Great Grim,” and knelt down beside Idia, looking into the heterochromatic eyes of the mad scientist. “Just because you’re brilliant doesn’t mean everything is going to be perfect. Similarly,” you said, “Just because one person did something terrible, it doesn’t mean you can shun all people. Everyone and everything has flaws. The important thing is to learn from them.” Xavier furrowed his brow and looked down at the floor for several seconds...then looked back up at both of you. “...I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I...I shouldn’t have lost control. That was...that was childish of me. And...I’m sorry for what I did.” He looked to Idia and smiled shyly. “Your invention was...not too bad.” “Thank you,” Idia said, with a slight blush, and helped the scientist to his feet. Just then, the sound of metallic footsteps echoed out. The group of you turned...and Xavier’s heart seemed to sink as he saw Abe re-enter the hall, yellow eyes fixed on his creator. “Abe, I’m so, SO sorry,” Xavier said, seriously. “I shouldn’t have-EEP!” He was cut off as the metal man crushed him in a solid bear hug, nuzzling his steel cheek against his creator’s hair. Ortho and Grim both giggled, while yourself and Caelyum smirked. Idia, for his part, didn’t seem to know what to make of the scene. “I think he already forgives you,” you said teasingly. Abe nodded to show this was the case. It was obvious he was just happy his maker was back to normal. Xavier smiled bashfully and gestured for the metal man to put him down, then looked to Idia. “So, uh...y-you’re the head of the dorm,” he said, and rubbed his arm. “Do you, uh...like...have any ideas on how to make the ERPC better? More...accessible?” “I can think of something. You know...maybe,” Idia said with a timid smile. “I mean...I’m r-really not the best choice, I...I got the whole idea for MY thing from an anime-” “Anime?” Xavier asked, and perked up visibly. “What anime?” “Oh! Uh...Magica Marocca. It’s...um...a Magic Girl series? You, ah, probably don’t know what that is-” “YOU WATCH MAGICA MAROCCA?!” Idia blinked, stunned, at the sudden look of exuberant excitement on Xavier’s face. “You...you’ve seen it?” the otaku nearly squeaked out. “I love that series!” exclaimed Xavier. “I mean...okay, it’s not, like, the GREATEST thing, in terms of story? Kinda rushed...but I really love the art style, a-and the way it plays with the themes and ideas of a typical Magic Girl series! It’s like Watchmen, but for...that!” Idia looked like he’d just found his soulmate. “I feel the same way! A-And have you seen Glitter Cure?” “Rascal is one of THE best villains ever.” “I AGREE!” squealed Idia, clapping giddily, that wide, almost manic smile you saw so rarely stretching across his face, matching Xavier’s instantly. “Oh, my gosh, no one EVER knows about that one! This is great!” “It is!” nodded Xavier eagerly...then took his turn to blush. “Um...d’ya think we can...oh...I-I dunno...maybe watch some together?” “I mean...only if you want to,” peeped Idia, ducking his head anxiously. “I’m...n-not used to people who...WANT to watch it with me, heh...normally I-I can only talk about it online…” “I’d like to watch it with you,” Xavier promised. “And...and we can talk about our inventions in the meantime. Does...does that sound fair?” Idia nodded slowly, and began to smile wider once more. “Yeah...yeah, it sounds like a plan,” he said, then looked to Ortho. “Is...is it okay with you, Little Brother?” Ortho gaped. “...You’re asking me if YOU can have a VISITOR in the apartment?” “Yes.” “Like...you WANT to HANG OUT WITH SOMEONE?” “Yuh-huh.” “...Okay, who are you, and what have you done with my Big Brother?” You snickered. So did Xavier, as Idia smiled awkwardly. “You wanna come with, Abe?” the mad scientist asked his robotic companion, who saluted in response. “Great!” Idia laughed. “Let’s go then!” And with unusual, uncharacteristic joy, the otaku and the eccentric sauntered off together, their androids following them as the exit door reformed and they left the convention hall. You smiled. “Well,” you sighed happily. “All’s well that end’s well. Looks like Idia’s found a new friend at last.” “I’m happy for them,” smiled Caelyum. “Finding a person who you can connect with is important.” “Uh-huh,” nodded Grim. “Now, there’s just one problem.” “What’s that?” both you and Cael asked. Grim wordlessly pointed to the mess of chairs, scorch marks, busted machines, and dented walls that the hall had become. You went pale. “...Ohhhhh...right...I forgot...we’re the janitors.” “Uh-huh,” Grim said again, drably. “Well, good luck with that!” Caelyum chirped, and began to saunter off towards the door. “Hey! HEY! Where are you going?!” snapped Grim. “Back to the Mystery Shop,” Cael called over his shoulders. “I have a job of my own to do, me hearties! Take care!” “But-!” Your call was unanswered. Cael disappeared, leaving you and Grim standing alone in the mess. You both looked around, then at each other. “...Grim?” “Yeah, Minion?” “It’s moments like these where I wonder if helping people is worth it.” “I never wonder, Minion,” sighed Grim. “Moments like these, I know it isn’t.”

Your feet shuffled as you went to find the broom and dust pan. From saving the day to cleaning up the wreckage, a Prefect’s work was never done.

The End

#fanfic #story #commission #disney #twisted wonderland #oc #mad doctor #epic mickey #xavier madoc #idia shroud #ortho shroud #idia #ortho #caelyum de macabre #caelyum #cael #grim

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pulchrasilva · 4 years ago

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Lucky’s Masterpost

Sanders Sides:

Arachne // AO3

Virgil liked spiders. He loved them. Ever since the other sides had learnt of his affinity for spiders, Virgil had been in charge of disposing of any spiders found in Thomas’ apartment or the Mind Palace. Nobody thought anything of it.

But here's the thing. Virgil didn't just like spiders - he was a spider. The other sides all hated spiders. And there was no doubt that if the other sides knew, they would hate Virgil forever.

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Remus Fights the Dragon Witch // AO3

The title says it all. Remus fights the Dragon Witch and chaos ensues.

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this is where i leave you // AO3

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

Janus often goes to the Imagination in secret, to visit the forest that Romulus made for the two of them. It's here that he mourns the loss of the King and reflects on what his life is like without his best and only friend. But when an unexpected visitor shows up outside the forest, things just might take a turn for the better.

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Glass Eyes // AO3

Patton is a toy dog, and all he wants to do is look after his best friend.

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Rubber Duck Debugging // AO3

Logan finds another benefit of having a stuffed toy: a method known by software engineers as ‘rubber duck debugging’. He’s not so good when it comes to feelings, but some problems can be solved just by having someone to talk them through with.

==========

The Owl House:

thus wander travellers in the woods by night // AO3

“Is this- Hecate’s Grove?” the human gazed around the clearing, as if the scene was coming to life before her eyes. “This is where Azura challenged Hecate to a Witch’s Duel – the epic showdown that started their blossoming friendship!”

“Well, this was one of my favourite scenes from ‘The Good Witch Azura’, and it was in the volume that you lent to me so...” Amity ducked her head, suddenly bashful in the face of such praise. “I thought it could be fun if we... I don’t know... acted out the scene? Together? Or something?”

Luz and Amity go LARPing together. Sort of.

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Good Omens:

whenever this world is cruel to me // AO3

“Armageddon was over, and life was good. Or rather, it should have been.”

Aziraphale is not okay, and Crowley is beginning to notice. The angel wants nothing more than to just let Crowley comfort him and soothe his tears – but he mustn't give into that temptation, no matter what. He can handle this on his own anyway.

Crowley has a different idea.

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Roleslaying with Roman:

Rye Bread // AO3

Ryker never found out what happened to his partner, who disappeared one day without warning. Little does he know, Hircine isn't as far away as he assumed.

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Vine // AO3

When Roman said he wanted to introduce him to Reston’s vines, Youngblood didn’t exactly have many ideas about what that might mean. This was not one of them.

(It's exactly what it says on the tin)

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White Noise // AO3

Youngblood and Noise can't sleep. Time for some introspection.

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i know a place where the pain doesn’t reach // AO3

Youngblood and Roman refused to let Noise go back to Fantabulous Neon, instead kidnapping him and taking him to Frogtown. But once they arrive, it's clear something is off with Noise - and it might not be what he expects. But this is a chance to start soothing old wounds, both literally and metaphorically, that Youngblood won't pass up.

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the sun will never go down // AO3

After everything, Noise has joined Roman and Youngblood in their travels. It’s not easy being on the run, but the three of them have found paradise together.

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No Man is an Island // AO3

The Bard College did not tolerate weakness of any kind – and Djembe was slow to discover exactly what counted as weakness here. But amid the casual cruelty of the other bards, he found a rock to cling to: the friendship between two students in the grade below him.

From a distance, Djembe watched the rise of Youngblood the First Chair, and the fall of Youngblood the person.

But no matter how powerless you may feel, there is always something to be done. Hope grows from the cracks in the Bard King’s ostentatious veneer. And in a system that values the power of individuals above all else, human connection can become a rebellion.

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A Tragedy with a Happy Ending // AO3

A tragedy only becomes a tragedy when you reach the end of the story. Two people can have fears and desires that clash, like the edges of puzzle pieces that were never meant to fit together. People can want to stay together, but be led in opposite directions by stronger instincts. Two people can need each other, love each other, and be destined to die apart.

Criss and Cross are a tragedy. They had their chance of life together but they lost it. Now, against all odds, they get a happy ending.

Cross takes Criss by the hand and leads him out into the world for the first time.

#masterpost #fanfiction #sanders sides fanfiction #the owl house fanfiction #good omens fanfiction #roleslaying with roman fanfiction

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moveslikebucky · 4 years ago

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Good Omens (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Mr Cortese/Mr Harrison (Good Omens) Characters: Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley (Good Omens) Additional Tags: Ineffable Tutors (Good Omens), Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, Touch-Starved, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens)

Hello friends I am back at it again with the tutors - this time just a little soft hurt/comfort. Full fic is under the cut, but can also be read on AO3 at the link! Special thanks to the wonderful @writingelizabeth for the beta read <3

---

If it had been any other day, Aziraphale could have ignored it. Could’ve thought of it as a trick of the light or a flight of fancy. Could’ve left well enough alone and not let his mind latch on to what he thought he saw.

Aziraphale is well-practiced at this; at making excuses for things. At not reading into the way yellow eyes linger a bit too long, on the meaning behind favors and gifts. He decidedly does not get caught up in the fleeting touch of long spindly fingers to his short and stout ones over a passed bottle of wine. Well, maybe just a little bit. Lets himself think of it in the wee hours of the night when no one is around to notice.

But the clock is ticking and the world keeps spinning, and nothing in all of creation is slowing it down. The End (capital E) is coming, all rather soon now; and Crowley, for whatever reason, is wearing tartan socks today.

They aren’t just any tartan, they’re Aziraphale’s tartan. And all the pomp and rules and meanings behind it. He’d often wondered, in the back of his mind, if Crowley had understood. They had been there when the tartans of the old clans were first made; when they were first passed down. They knew the rituals, the familial bonds required. The seriousness of the gift of tartan.

And one night in 1967, in an intricate ritual of his own devising, Aziraphale had passed Crowley a thermos of holy water, printed with his own tartan. He had hoped Crowley understood the significance, understood that this was Aziraphale reaching out in more ways than one. That he meant everything he said about “someday”, that he wanted Crowley safe, and, under all that with a beige pattern on a tin thermos, that he wanted Crowley by his side, under his mantle.

And today Crowley had worn tartan socks. Aziraphale had noticed as he watched Crowley teaching Warlock maths (Crowley had always been regrettably good at maths; Warlock was shaping up to be much the same). Crowley had deigned to perch on top of the desk in the library they were using as a one-student classroom, crossing one leg up over his bony knee. The cuff of his trousers had ridden up just enough that the pattern was evident. A tiny peek of beige and tan crosshatch, unmistakable to Aziraphale, who’s been wearing that pattern for centuries. He’d spent the majority of his own lesson distracted by the thought of bony ankles, and the majority of the ride in the Bentley back to the shop distracted by further thoughts. Ones that involved interlaced fingers and gentle brushes of lips; thoughts he wasn’t allowed to entertain.

“Well, this is you,” Crowley says matter of factly when they pull up outside the old bookshop. Aziraphale finds he’s not really ready for the day to end, and he could use a drink.

“Would you like to come in, dear? Maybe go over next week’s lesson plans, possibly over a nice bottle of Château Latour?”

“Twist my arm, why don’t you?” Crowley says with a grin as he shuts off the engine, the both of them clambering out of the car to head inside. Aziraphale fumbles with his keys as Crowley drones on about how Warlock is doing in his schoolwork.

“Boy’s a natural, angel! Absolutely a wizard at algebra, who would have thought it?” Crowley says as they enter the shop, candles popping to life of their own accord and blinds drawing themselves. Far too late in the evening to be opening anyway.

“Quite a whiz at numbers, yes. By far his favorite subject.” Aziraphale heads to the back storage as Crowley makes himself comfortable, plopping himself down on the old Chesterfield that’s as much his as anything else in the world at this point. Like he belongs there; like it’s home. Aziraphale takes a moment in the wine storage. Just a bit, just to breathe. It would be unfair, now, to act on these feelings. There are only a few short years left until they learn if their methods have been successful.

It would be cruel, Aziraphale thinks, to give in now. To let the emotions and feelings and yearning finally overtake him, drag him into the undertow and pull him out to sea. He knows, of course, has known with great clarity since 1941 that Crowley loves him. Has known with an agonizing heartache of his own love since 1862. It had snuck up on him, wormed its way into his heart as a seed way back in the Garden. Blooming bright and brilliant on one of the worst days of his life.

No, none of that now. There isn’t enough time. He wipes away the scant few tears that have decided to track down his face, breathes in deeply, and grabs the wine, determined to, at the very least, have a nice evening in.

Crowley is still chattering from across the shop, going on about something to do with Atila the Hun’s grandmother. Aziraphale can hear the pride in Crowley’s voice, still amazed at how much he’s taken to his disguises. Ashtoreth was much softer than Crowley would like to admit, a caregiver and a nurturer. And now, as Mr. Harrison, Crowley is able to impart knowledge. One would think, with Aziraphale being the bookshop owner, that he would take to teaching much more readily than the demon. But, one would be wrong.

Crowley has spent his entire existence asking questions. Sometimes the wrong ones, and sometimes the right ones. But it is in his nature, down to the very core of him to be inquisitive, to wonder, and to learn. Is it any wonder he takes so readily to gifting that knowledge out?

He did give humanity the knowledge of good and evil, after all.

“What was that about Gandhi, dear?” Aziraphale asks as he rounds the corner. “I didn’t quite catch —“

Aziraphale is struck speechless, much to his chagrin. Crowley’s tweed jacket has been discarded over a nearby chair, and his trademark boneless sprawl is nothing new. But his feet are propped on the edge of the couch; and right there, wrapped around his ankles, is unmistakably and unequivocally his tartan.

“Didn’t quite catch what?” Crowley asks. Aziraphale locks eyes with him slowly, not sure what to say. Crowley, for his part, looks confused. He follows to where Aziraphale’s eyes had been, sees the cuff of his trousers has crept up just a tad. Aziraphale watches the realization dawn on those long-loved features. Watches the slow turn of Crowley’s eyes back to him.

“You’re wearing my tartan…”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Why not?”

“And…how long?”

“Don’t ask me that, angel—“

“How long?” It’s more forceful the second time, just a bit of heavenly presence behind it. Enough to make Crowley sit up and take notice, swinging his feet to the floor and tapping his heels nervously. Aziraphale isn’t sure Crowley even understands what he’s asking; not sure that he knows either. It’s not some big cosmic secret; they both know. They don’t speak about it, don’t observe it closely. Keep your distance and keep him safe; the mantra that plays in Aziraphale’s head, late at night when the shop is quiet and his only company is the old and dusty books.

Crowley avoids his eyes, wrings his hands together as he stares at the floor. The air between them is thick and heavy, though with what, Aziraphale isn’t sure yet. Crowley’s mouth opens and closes wordlessly; Aziraphale balls his hands into fists at his sides. Well-manicured nails digging into his palms, grounding him into the moment. Crowley scratches his beard, runs that same hand up through his hair before sighing heavily.

“Don’t remember a time when I didn’t.” He finally says, his voice cracking, his eyes finally meeting Aziraphale’s.

The moment stretches between them, thick like treacle. Aziraphale can’t give in now; not when they have so much to lose, not when what’s at stake is everything. What would it gain them if they fail? A few happy years and a bit of distraction before their weapons are at each other’s throats? Just two unwilling soldiers on either side of a war they didn’t want, on the battlefield that was once their home.

But then, what if? What if, in this short stretch of time before everything potentially goes to Hell (literally), they could lean on each other? It wouldn’t be much, but it would be theirs. But what’s the point if it could be painful later?

Before Aziraphale can break his thoughts to respond, Crowley stands and crosses over to him, takes the wine bottle from his shaking grip, and sets it aside.

“Look, angel, we can forget this. I’ll go back to my flat, we’ll call it a night - pretend this conversation didn’t happen.”

Crowley is standing so close to him, less than a foot away even though it feels like miles and Aziraphale doesn’t want him to go, doesn’t want to forget about this. He doesn’t want to run anymore and he realizes, with solid clarity and conviction, that the reason for anything — the reason they should stop running and be happy now — is precisely because things could be painful later.

“Don’t!” Aziraphale reaches out and grabs Crowley’s sleeve as he turns away, freezing the both of them in the moment. Amber eyes meet his, searching for answers that Aziraphale doesn’t have. He’s on the wrong foot, out of his element with no idea where to go next. There isn’t a precedence for any of this, there never has been. Not for an angel’s love —singular, not plural— pent up for centuries with nowhere to go. An angel’s love is meant to be all-encompassing, of everything that exists in all of the world, not like this. Not with a single focus point. Not with only one star pulling that love into an orbit that is nigh inescapable.

What even happens now? Aziraphale doesn’t know. But he lets his instincts take over, lets this far too human need that has consumed him since a cold and dreary day in a park in 1862 take the lead. Lets the sense of dread melt away from him, lets it be replaced by anticipation instead as he threads his fingers through Crowley’s. They fit together perfectly and his heart jumps into his throat.

“Aziraphale…” His name in Crowley’s mouth is a question, one that Crowley has been asking for longer than Aziraphale has ever wanted to admit.

“Don’t go, please, I…” Aziraphale’s words fail him. How does one say something that has been left unsaid for so long? How does one give voice to that? Tears sting at the corner of his eyes as he grips Crowley’s hand tighter.

There’s the soft caress of a thumb on his cheek, lightly brushing away those tears. A calming voice whispering comfort as he’s pulled into arms that are so familiar to him in every way except for this . They’ve never held hands before, never held one another like this, and yet it feels so right and so familiar. It feels like coming home.

Crowley holds him close, lets him cry; stays steadfast as Aziraphale crumbles, rubbing circles into his back. Comforting him, of all things. Shakily, Aziraphale wraps his arms around Crowley’s thin frame, finally knowing what it’s like to have the one he loves most in his arms. It starts his tears falling anew, knowing that he’ll never be able to go back. They’ve crossed a line, and neither of them can turn away from it any longer.

“S’alright, angel,” Crowley whispers softly on a cracked voice, “S’gonna be alright.” It’s only now that Aziraphale realizes Crowley is crying, too. He squeezes the demon tighter, nuzzles his face into his neck, marveling at how Crowley’s sharp angels compliment his own soft curves. How they fit together like two pieces of the same puzzle, two halves of one soul, like the old philosophers used to say.

They stay like this, for hours or minutes Aziraphale can’t say. All he can do is stand here, breathing in the faint hint of brimstone that lingers on Crowley’s skin, feeling the rise and fall of Crowley’s breathing. He’s never been held like this, never held anyone like this. He’s seen the humans do it, of course. Watched Adam wrap his arms around Eve to offer comfort in the unyielding wilderness, watched as Yeshua’s mother wept openly in Mary Magdalene’s arms. All through the millennia, he’s watched as humans have touched each other, have been vulnerable with each other in the hope of just some simple comfort in life. It’s different for them, when life is so fleeting and so short. Where love is not just something to want, it’s something needed from the moment they are born until the last breath that they take. When time is so short, so ephemeral, it’s impossible to face it alone.

Time has never been short or fleeting, not for him or for Crowley. The wide expanse of forever has always stretched out in front of them, just as the wide expanse of before stretches behind. Both of them older than the universe itself, architects in the crew of God’s creation. When you cannot truly be killed by mortal means, it’s easy to forget that an end is planned. There’s all the time in the world. Wait for me, go a little slower, we’ll get there.

There is no time now, four years at best if their plan doesn’t work, and Aziraphale can feel the crushing weight of mortality now. He wonders how the humans have ever survived underneath it.

But for now, there are thin fingers carding through Aziraphale’s pale curls, whispering words of comfort. There’s a warm hand on the small of his back, tracing circles with a thumb. The gentleness and softness of the actions make his chest hurt and he wonders if this is what the humans call “heartbreak”. He pulls back reluctantly, needing to see Crowley’s face, needing to read the emotions there.

He swipes a calloused thumb across Crowley’s cheek, collecting a stray tear that’s lingering there. Just this once, just for now, he lets himself get lost in Crowley’s eyes. Yellow like molten gold, glowing in the relative darkness, brighter than the candles. Aziraphale lets his hand rest on Crowley’s cheek, taking in the surprising softness of the beard he’s been sporting these last few months. Crowley leans into it, eyes searching Aziraphale’s own as he turns slowly —every so slowly—and places a soft kiss to Aziraphale’s palm.

Nothing has ever felt like this, so simple and gentle of a gesture, and yet the maelstrom it causes within Aziraphale could destroy an entire coastal city if he let it. This flood of love and acceptance and belonging, this overwhelming feeling of yes, you, you are the one I should be running to, that I should be going through this life with. It’s always been you how could I have ever pushed you away?

And so Aziraphale doesn’t push him away; resolves to never do so again. Instead, he lets his hand drift along Crowley’s jawline, around to the back of his head. Lets his fingers finally, after so long spent wondering, learn just how soft Crowley’s hair is. He pulls, Crowley comes willingly to meet him halfway, and for the first time in six thousand years, Aziraphale kisses him.

It’s almost anticlimactic in its simplicity. A gentle brush of lips, an intimate touch reserved for humans and not for them. The heavens don’t shake, lightning doesn’t strike them down, God herself does not descend in a glorious cacophony of trumpets to cast him into the pit. It’s just him and Crowley, standing in the bookshop, with their lips and hearts and souls pressed to one another. Content and calm in this human-bound method of affection, this gentleness.

They break apart slowly, as if moving through a fog. Aziraphale lets his eyes fall open, sees Crowley’s still closed, a small and quiet smile quirking up the corners of his lips. It’s unbearably tender, and Aziraphale wants nothing more than to hold him until the sun burns out. Crowley opens his eyes slowly, meets Aziraphale’s gaze. The small and quiet smile spreads, breaking across his face like dawn light.

“I do hope that was alright, my dear,” Aziraphale whispers into the fading darkness of the room, afraid to speak too loudly, to break this spell that’s between them right now. Crowley still holds him tight, like he’s something precious or worthy.

“Angel, I…” Crowley’s voice trails off, no longer more than a string of consonants with no vowels to hold them together. Like too many things are trying to rush out of his mouth at the same time and none of them make sense. Aziraphale just waits, lets Crowley hold him, lets him find his words until he finally lands on three.

Three words, spoken softly and nervously on shaky breath. Spoken in such a way that hints a gearing for rejection; at waiting for the penny to drop. At an expectation of once again being let down, of being too much.

Aziraphale smiles at him, tangles his fingers through Crowley’s hair, feeling the short strands slide smoothly through them. He says three words back. Crowley leans in, and their lips meet again. More insistent this time, more sure of themselves. It feels right, kissing Crowley. Feels like they were meant to fit together this way, like his lips have been waiting countless lifetimes to know the shape of Crowley’s lips.

There will be time for talk later, time for confessions and promises. For apologies and what-ifs. But for now, they sink to the sofa, wrapped in each other’s arms, and just for a moment in time, they are able to hold one another. To forget about what’s coming and just exist and touch and kiss each other softly like the humans do.

#good omens #ineffable husbands #ineffable tutors #aziraphale #crowley #my fic #link

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sayuricorner · 4 years ago

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HomestuckxTwisted wonderland: Trolls in Twisted Wonderland AU: AU concept

Headcanons part 1

Warning: English is not my first language so sorry if it’s confusing!

You can use this AU if you want, just credite and tag me in return please I would love to read the result ! 😉

So recently I go back in one of my favorite fandoms: Homestuck

I’m a fan of the comic’s characters especially the Ancestors and I’m a sucker for Homestuck AUs and with my recent obsession for Twisted Wonderland I came out with this AU idea “What if some of the trolls highblood mysteriously find themself in Twisted Wonderland as grubs and grow up there?”

Little precisions about this AU:

-The sburb/sgrub game don’t exist.

-The pre-scratch trolls in this AU are like the “older siblings” of the post-scratch trolls.

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

So here the concept of the “Trolls in Twisted Wonderland AU”:

-The AU begin with the highblood grubs’s, who would have become Dakleer, Orphaner Dualscar, Grand Highblood and Mindfang, birth.

-At one moment of their grubhood a mysterious energy teleport them one by one to Twisted Wonderland and are found by TW locals.

-Grub Dualscar was found by water faes from the Valey of Thorns, the faes felt the strange and powerful energy from him and when realizing the grub was a baby they decided to keep him.

-The water fae clan who’s adopted the grub was know as the Ampora clan, they named him “Oberon” in reference to one of the legendary kings of fairies and also because the night he was found was a night during which the planet Uranus and it’s moons, one of them being called “Oberon”, were very visible.

-Grub GHB was found by a voodoo witch know as “Mama Makara”, she was intrigued by the strange baby(?) and her voodoo spirits advised her the best thing to do was to keep him so she decided to listen to them and adopt him.

-She named him “Jael” as he was found a december 31, which is in the Capricorn star sign’s period, and his horns remind her of a mountain goat.

-Grub Mindfang was found by a crew of pirates who’s captain was know as “captain Serket”, the crew were finding a great treasure when they found the grub looking with fascination a blue topaz, at first they thought she was a wierd new kind of animal and decided to keep her to sell her later. But after a while they notice her having an anthropomorphic behavior and the captain end up getting attach to her and decided to keep her.

-Since she had be found near a blue topaz, which was the same blue as the grub, the captain named her “Topaz”.(It’s also the birthstone of the scorpio star sign).

-Grub Darkleer was found by a couple of magic scientists, at first they thought he was a new kind of insect and brough him back to their lab to study him but after a few analysses and observations of his behavior they realized he wasn’t an insect but in fact an unknow intelligent specie. They were curious about his specie to they keep to observe him in the end they get attach to him and officially adopt him as their son.

-They noticed the grub seemed to really like horses and since they found him the November 21, a date in the Sagittarius star sign period, they decided to named him “Pholos”, which was a reference to the centaur from greek mythology.

-Time pass and the four grubs gew up with their new families becoming young trolls who’s know nothing about where they came from.

-Thank to the magical influence of the Twisted Wonderland world the trolls developped magic.

-Oberon, Jael and Pholos were enrolled in Night Raven College while Topaz was enrolled in a all-girls magical school.

-Oberon Ampora was sorted in Octavinelle and even become dormleader at some point, he was know to be very good in magic strategy.

-After he graduated, Oberon became a teacher at Night Raven College, he’s teaching combat and magic strategy.

-Jael Makara was sorted in Savanaclaw, his big strengh, giant stature and capacities in voodoo magic made him feared and respected by his classmated.

-After he graduated he officially become a voodoo wizard and work with Mama Makara at her Voodoo shop in a bayou.

-Pholos Zahhak was sorted in the Ignihyde dorm, he became famous as the strongest student of the dorm and his magical robotic creations made him one of the top students of NRC.

-After he graduated, Pholos became an prominent magic engineer.

-Topaz Serket at her school showed amazing habilities in mind related magic.

-After her graduation, she become the new captain of her adopted father’s crew after the later decided to retire and become one of the most fearsome pirates in Twisted Wonderland.

-Topaz have met the three others trolls during her father’s trips and keep contact with them.

-Back on Alternia the mother grub had created new grubs and four of them are the descendants of our four missing higbloods.

-You see in this AU the mother grub don’t use all the genetic material when it give to her, she just use a part of it and keep the rest in reserve and when she don’t get a lot of new genetic material she use a part of the one she got in reserve.

-So descendants of the four missing highbloods are born, each is found by a lusus and is given a name but just like their ancestors a mysterious energy teleport them toTwisted Wonderland.

-Each grub is found by it ancestor the latters were shocked to find another being like them, each grub was found with a piece of paper with a name written on it.

-The grub found by Oberon was named “Cronus”, the one found by Jael “Kurloz”, the one found by Topaz “Aranea” and the one found by Pholos “Horuss”.

-The four adults trolls decided to keep and raise the grubs and some years later the same event happen once again with this time the newly adopted grubs being called “Eridan”, “Vriska”, “Equius” and “Gamzee”.

-Which then bring us to the present:

-Kurloz, Cronus and Horuss are 17 years old in human age, they’re second years students at NRC and they’re in the same dorms than their fathers when they were students and Araena as for her is a 17 years old student in a all-girl magic school.

-Vriska, Gamzee, Eridan and Equius are 12 in human age and by so aren’t students yet.

-Since his big brother is a student at NRC and his father work at the school as a teacher, Eridan live in the school with his dad and brother.

-The four youngest trolls keep contact on a chat and see each other when they can like during hollidays.

-The actual events of the AU take place after the main story of Twisted Wonderland.

-Yuu is still stuck in Twisted Wonderland and is still staying in NRC until Crowley find a way to send them back to their world.

-Everything seemed finally fine and at peace.

-But this peace is soon disturbed by a event which will turn upside down the lives of many especially the lives our 12 highblood trolls in the form of the mysterious apparition of a well know group of rebels lowblood trolls with their two generations of descendants and two fushia troll heiress.

#homestuck #twisted wonderland #crossover #homestuck au #ancestors #alpha trolls #beta trolls #au idea

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cinnalock · 5 years ago

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TWST Mond Twin Headcanons

((A masterlist of all the random facts and trivia bits for the Mond twins. I may create separate posts of new things in the future, but those new bits will always be added/archived in this post! As with some of my other character lists/profiles, a “last edited” date will be posted to inform when the last addition was.

Diamond Crown Academy, Katherine’s school, is created by @phoenix-manga.

Last Edited: 5-15-2020, added DCA Festival headcanons, corrected an old headcanon, newly added headcanons are in bold font.))

GENERAL HEADCANONS: headcanons that don't necessarily fit into a specific category, mainly little general snippets about the twins.

The Mond twins are a...peculiar set of siblings. They're friendly enough at their own schools, but get them together and you'll likely never see one without the other. They're very attached and seem to only trust each other. Despite how nice they seem, there always seems to be the aura that you talking to them feels like you're intruding in their space and better play by their rules because of it.

There's a rumor that the twins aren't entirely human, if they're human at all. Some believe they're fae or fairy. The twins have never addressed these rumors themselves and, if confronted with them, tend to give vague answers that neither confirm nor deny. Some believe that in of itself confirms the rumors, but the Monds have been known to be mischievous and may simply get entertainment out of confusing their classmates.

Despite their cunning, secretive behavior, the twins aren't bad or evil. They're mainly mischievous and distrustful of others. They're neutral at their worst, just wanting to protect each other above all else. They might relish in the chaos of something like a prank, but destruction and devastation doesn't sit well with them. They're not above schmoozing and sweet-talking to get something like an extension on homework or the last tart in the lunch line, but they wouldn't betray a friend to serve themselves. Ultimately, it's better to be on their good side, but being on their bad side isn't much of an inconvenience, unless the situation is very, VERY bad.

In regards to the above headcanon, the twins mostly represent characters that appear to be on the villain’s side before ultimately abandoning or straight-up betraying them, or characters that you’re absolutely sure are the main villains before the actual villain’s plot comes to light and you realize they were working against the evil.

"Canonically" for TWST Katherine might not be part of NRC due to the "all-boys school" angle, but at the very least she'd visit a lot; if she was part of a NRC dorm, it would be Ignihyde like her brother despite everyone and their grandmother expecting her to be sorted into Pomefiore. In Ignihyde, she'd specialize in web design, but she'd also have a knack for engineering; seeing various pieces like a giant puzzle to put together to make things work. Many classmates would come to her for help with building their own PCs.

Thomas and Katherine share a bank account, but have their own cards attached to it. Both earn relatively the same amount of money in their side jobs. Thomas' payments might be more substantial in the moment, but Katherine is commissioned much more frequently, either through bulk orders of products made by her own hand or companies paying substantial amounts for the rights to various recipes they pay her to concoct.

As proud as Thomas is of his sister's accomplishments, Katherine sends him a hysterical amount of perfumed goods of her own creation, asking for critiques. He does what he can, but to reduce them overwhelming his dorm room, he usually does his initial "testing" with them once before leaving them in a box on Pomefiore's doorstep.

Katherine's animal companion at DCA is an orchid mantis named Lamarie; while normally only the companion's owners can hear them speak, Thomas can hear Lamarie talk as well.

Lamarie is a very conceited, boastful little bug to the point where Vil would describe her as "full of herself" if he could hear her speak. Despite her selfish attitude, she cares about Katherine dearly and will go to great lengths to protect her, even if the effort isn't always necessary.

The Monds use a similar fragrance mainly comprising of cloves and fresh rosemary. Thomas' cologne also contains hints spearmint and bergamot. Katherine's perfume also contains hints of lavender and patchouli. Their respective scents are present in various products made by Katherine, and they regularly bathe with the pure oil mixtures stirred into their bath water. This leaves their smells being particularly persistent (almost overwhelming) and while Katherine says there's no magic additives, non- or weak-magicked beings tend to find themselves being slowly entranced or even "hypnotized" by the smell after a certain period, weakening their resolve and rationality.

While their favorite food is chestnuts, both of the twins' favorite dish is chicken curry, though Katherine likes Indian-style curry while Thomas likes Japanese-style curry. While both enjoy a certain level of spiciness, they tend to exaggerate their ability to tolerate it, leading to some...interesting scenarios when the host/cook takes their word on such.

While curry is their favorite food, Katherine enjoys caviar tasting, though Thomas finds caviar gross. However, Thomas enjoys artisan cheeses while Katherine loathes it.

Both twins love boba drinks, particularly ones with lots of fancy toppings. Thomas eats the toppings out of the whip cream with a spoon before drinking, Katherine likes to drink the toppings through her straw as they sink into the drink.

The twins are relatively neutral when it comes to sweets, though once in a blue moon they get plagued by a ravenous sweet tooth. They prefer baked goods over candy when it comes to satisfying their sugar cravings. Thomas is a straightforward cake-lover, especially chocolate (god tier: chocolate lava cake); Katherine will say her favorite dessert is French macarons because of the aesthetic, but she'll sneak out at the crack of dawn to get donuts for the aforementioned sugar craving above.

Thomas is naturally gifted in herbology and plant-based magic. Katherine grew into it in her teens with lots of training and practice, but she had the terrible luck of frequently killing plants when she was a child. When Thomas discovered his affinity, he'd often revive the plants to keep Katherine from crying. Katherine's prized possession is a lamb's tail succulent Thomas gave her when they were kids that he guided her into keeping alive. Thomas doesn't have a passion for herbology, but he keeps a small potted lilac tree in his dorm, as Katherine gave it to him as the first plant she was able to successfully grow during her first year at DCA.

On the flip side, Thomas could burn cereal as a child. Like how he helped Katherine with gardening, Katherine has tried to help his cooking skills. He learned well enough, but without a dedicated cooking class at NRC (chemistry being the closest thing, which HAS surprisingly helped), his learning process has been slow. He's an okay cook now, and what he does make is at least edible if not enjoyable, but it's definitely not pretty. (Thomas: *standing casually in front of a collapsed cake* "Started making it. Had a breakdown. Bon appetite.")

While Thomas is in the board game club, if the club is cancelled or on the days it doesn't meet, he sometimes sits in on magical shift or track and field clubs to help get regular exercise in; he also helps in tutoring/instructing junior students in the clubs.

If the gardening research club doesn't meet, Katherine might show up to the greenhouse/club room to watch and fuss over the plants, even if she doesn't actually interfere with them because she wants to be a good gardener. Sometimes other clubs, usually the volleyball club, will drag her to their meetings to keep her from worrying.

Thomas is usually on the magical shift team for Ignihyde during the tournament, but he's willing to yield his position on the team if there's 7 players stronger than he is.

BACKSTORY HEADCANONS: headcanons relating to their backstory or explanations of how their origins affect other aspects of their life.

The twins were taught how to read, write, and most basic skills by Mim, including how to use magic. This was to her advantage so they could be independent enough to follow her orders (and not bother her when she had no tasks for them).

However, King Arthur adapted magic into his being over his long life, both by being tutored by Merlin for so long and then over the course of his main journeys and triumphs. Spending so much time with the twins as kits, he imbued them with a little of this magic and is the main reason they remember him so well despite how young they were.

In short, the twins had an adaptation to both good and black magic when they were young.

The twins can change between being human and being squirrels. They themselves have wondered if they could transform midway into a hybrid form, but they’re worried about getting “stuck” and haven’t tried. They also don’t want to try because being born as squirrels is a secret they’ve kept from their classmates (they believe it’s a secret to the teachers and staff as well, but both Crowley and Citrouille are well aware of this, despite not knowing full details of the twins’ origins).

Since Mim is an incredibly powerful sorcerer, the twins adapted a human lifespan once they were transformed by her. They were only a few months old as young squirrels when she transformed them and they had become children as humans, but they also started to age as humans as time went on.

The twins adore mainstream human cuisine, but they still have the tendency to snack on nuts and berries they pluck straight off the plant. They have to be careful of this habit because while they can digest certain things like fresh acorns, they have to be mindful that someone might notice them eating raw foods that would normally be poisonous to humans, such as uncooked acorns.

Naturally, the twins excel at Animal Linguistics. They have to be particularly careful about this because animals on campus risk revealing the twins’ secret to other students proficient in Animal Linguistics if they’re spotted transforming. They have to feign natural excellency at the subject as humans, but also not be found out when transforming into squirrels to use their natural forms to their advantage.

The twins don’t remember Merlin very well from the short time he was looking after them. While he seemed kind enough in wanting to save them from Mim, they’re not interested in reuniting with him because they don’t know his true intentions.

What they don’t know is that Merlin had managed to locate them when they started school, but has decided to leave them alone for the most part. His original agreement with Arthur’s son was to make sure they were released safely into the wild and he sees their current situation as a way to interpret it. He’s normally away, but sometimes he checks in, guiding them as a disembodied voice or animating objects to lead them in the right direction. The twins write this off as normal absurdity in their magic-filled schools and don’t realize it’s him.

The twins weren't sorted into Savanaclaw or Sagamore despite being animal-humans partially because they're not clear hybrids. Another, bigger reason is that their memories from being in nature are not pleasant ones (first being orphaned as kits and then living under Mim's hand) and they want to distance themselves from nature and their "origins" as much as possible.

They put a lot of effort into learning as much as they could about the modern world in such a short amount of time. Their knowledge is certainly passable, but they still slip up here and there. They prioritized learning alchemy for potions that could help them stay awake to study longer or help retain information a bit better. The same came with learning how to use computers as they noticed it was important in the current society. It was difficult for them when they were in hiding before they enrolled, but their fear possibly being enslaved by another witch encourage them to study hard and get stronger in both knowledge and resolve.

Lamarie knows they’re origins and the twins know she knows, but she keeps their secret to respect their wishes and protect Katherine, worried that the witch from their past might be trying to find them.

Lilia and Malleus are also highly aware that the twins aren't human, but they keep it to themselves.

One reason the twins use such strong fragrances in their products is because when they were still hiding at NRC, one persistent Savannaclaw student could pick up on their scent in rooms they were previously in during the night. Even if they were in human form in that room, the student specifically mentioned picking up on the scent of "squirrel" so it lead the twins to believe that even as humans their natural scent/musk smells animalistic. They threw the student off their literal scent before he could find them out by slipping a potion into his drinks and food to give him horrible allergies for the rest of his time at NRC, making him unable to smell clearly until he graduated.

IN-GAME HEADCANONS: headcanons regarding how the twins would work as canon characters in the actual game.

Thomas' unique magic is called "Found Your Weak Spot". He zeroes in on an opponent's weakness, whether it's physical, emotional, or magical and identifies how to exploit it; his attacks become critical.

Katherine's unique magic is called "Take a Deep Breath". A pleasant, but abundant fragrance overtakes her opponents, confusing their minds and slowing their movements, making their attacks much easier to dodge.

If they were in the game, they'd have an overblot boss battle as a special event. During the event, a side story would unfold where the player finds out about their past. The event would reward the player for participating by giving them rare cards where the twins unlock a human-squirrel hybrid form (similar to Savanaclaw students). The cards would depict stories of the twins trying to come to terms with being more open about their origins with their classmates, as well as trying to adjust to their hybrid forms.

CHARACTER RELATIONSHIP HEADCANONS: headcanons explaining how the twins, either separately or together, interact with canon or other OC characters.

During holidays where students can visit home, the twins stay at NRC, normally spending it having huge gaming marathons with Idia. While it took years of getting to know Thomas for Idia to open up to the idea, he enjoys how they're much more willing to venture out to restock on snacks and other supplies in his place. Ortho, unsurprisingly, has to be the voice of reason and makes sure the trio doesn't die from their diet of pizza and chocolate pretzels during this time.

Going back to how the twins have relatively normal diets, they will eat the most decadent, indulgent food concoctions (think burgers with jelly donuts as buns or hotdogs with s’more toppings) in front of Vil just to horrify him. Vil’s motions to have them banned from Pomefiore dorm and a restraining order from him personally have gone unapproved.

While not particularly kid-oriented, the twins are very good at interacting with Ortho. Thomas tries to look after him when Idia isn't around, particularly performing small maintenance on Ortho's suit (such as replacing worn wires or tightening bolts) when it wears a little from extensive use in the middle of the school day. Katherine has had less interaction with Ortho, but gives him little trinkets and souvenirs from DCA when she visits Thomas.

Cheka doesn't know the twins all that well, but he likes their long hair worn in braids (or, as he calls them, their "head-tails").

HOLIDAY HEADCANONS: headcanons specifically centered around how the twins celebrate the holidays.

During their first Christmas at NRC when they were hiding, they'd sneak into dorms and watch holiday movies any students were watching. They were enamored by gingerbread houses and managed to get a boxed kit each year to decorate, but now that they're older, they decide on a design and Katherine will bake the pieces herself when she visits NRC during the holiday break. Ortho typically joins them and has fun helping decorate the structure; he tries to get Idia to join, but the older Shroud tends to hyper fixate on one area to decorate and over-obsesses on how to make it "perfect" to not ruin the overall look of the gingerbread house. They're all glad Idia joins them, but they worry about whether or not he's actually having fun with it.

DCA FESTIVAL HEADCANONS: headcanons regarding the festival held by Diamond Crown Academy.

Katherine gives her bath products to be sold at the perfume booths by the alchemy students. She checks in occasionally to see if they need more of her products (and sometimes to man a stall for awhile so someone else can take a break), but she's normally involved in the more physically active attractions.

Katherine's duties for the festival rotates throughout the course of it. Since one of her strongest subjects is Obstacle Run (see: squirrel), she spends a good amount of time at the obstacle course being a potential challenger for the visiting students to race against.

Katherine is part of an idol group, but with rotating performances from different groups, she doesn't have to spend a lot of time on stage.

Despite not being a dorm leader, a lot of DCA students recognize Thomas as Katherine's brother (either as a formal acquaintance or just "hey, he looks exactly like the girl from Chateau Beastiale") so the native students are more open to approaching him out of familiarity. Some students even "drag" him to a certain booth or attraction to get his opinion on their hard work.

The first few years, Thomas was content to just wander around on his own. He tried hanging out with Rook during the festival for a bit, but the attention Rook tends to get got a little boring for Thomas to put up with. Now he just trades off who he hangs out with, if he hangs out with anyone at all while Katherine's busy.

Thomas doesn't realize it, but he has a bit of a "prince charming" reputation himself. This is because of his long hair and charming demeanor, but DCA students fawned over him at a distance one time while he was helping Katherine fix her hair before one of her performances, people swooning over his caring "older brother" instinct.

Aside from watching Katherine's group, Thomas tries to distance himself from the idol performances. Whether it comes from wanting to tease their colleague's brother or just wanting Thomas' attention, some groups will drag him on stage after their initial performance and encourage him to try and dance along to one of their songs. He goes along despite being embarrassed because he'd find it more embarrassing to "run away" or cause some sort of scene at Katherine's school by protesting.

Thomas usually spends his time trying out different foods, but he'll also find himself in the art gallery, trying to see if there's any pieces inspired by King Arthur or the twins' original home world. If there is, he purchases it immediately if he artist lets him, but given the unlimited points of inspiration in the world, he almost never sees any pieces.

He also spends a surprising amount of time at the Futterwacken dorm because the sentient tea sets stir a strange feeling of nostalgia in him. While he doesn't interact with Riddle too often, them both enjoying the tea parties at the festival allows them to catch up and have fun in familiar company, even if they don't usually hang out at NRC.

It's through the above that Thomas came into a possession of a very strange sugar bowl. The dish's enthusiasm humored him a great deal and when he asked about it, it brought attention to how nobody at DCA actually knew where that particular sugar bowl had come from and, with the staff's permission, they allowed Thomas to buy it and take it back to his dorm. The little bowl's antics still continue to amuse him, but he can't seem to make it understand that he doesn't want sugar in anything other than coffee or tea. He doesn't drink energy drinks or do his alchemy homework in his room anymore...

SPICY HEADCANONS: a link to general headcanons regarding NSFW headcanons about the twins. This set of headcanons will always linked at the bottom of the post. These headcanons will typically contain explict, sexual details so please do not read if you are not comfortable with such. (no link exists at this time)

#mond twins

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obaewankenope · 5 years ago

Link

Summary:

“How was your summer?” Harry asks Ron and Hermione when they all settle down in compartment, trunks and pets all politely stowed away. Hermione has a pet cat—a Kneazle apparently—that seems very displeased with its carrier and she is happy to discuss it at length.

“It was brilliant! I asked my parents to get me a pet for at Hogwarts and—after explaining the magical benefits of a familiar—they agreed.” Hermione proudly smiles at them both. “Crookshanks is very young but very affectionate. He’s also an excellent mouser according to mum.”

Read below or on AO3

Arriving at Platform nine-and-three-quarters, Harry makes a beeline for his friends, excited at the prospect of spending another year with them twenty-four-seven[1]. Only Aziraphale has brought him to the station today as Crowley had to go on ahead to Hogwarts and sort out a minor magical creature problem—some sort of wild animal in the forest that Hagrid can’t get near for some reason—but the lack of Crowley at the station doesn’t deter Harry. He knows he’ll see his uncle at the Welcoming Feast if not before at the station—uncle Aziraphale is heading to Hogwarts via the Hogwarts Express.

Apparently he wants to experience a steam engine again. Harry doesn’t really get the appeal of that since he can fly but—well—uncle Aziraphale is weird. Harry loves him for it.

Harry frowns. “How’d she figure that out?” he asks, curiously.

“We had a rat infestation in the gardens at the start of the summer,” Hermione answers. “After a week of Crookshanks there’s no more infestation.”

Harry is surprised and wonders if perhaps there’s no other ‘infestations’ of animals around Hermione’s home too; though he doesn’t voice that. “Cool.”

Ron is somewhat sullen as he has no pet compared to his friends but perks up soon enough when the sweet trolley trundles along and they buy enough sugar to give a diabetic a panic attack. The trio discuss what they might experience in the coming year—from Harry and Ron hoping to get on the Quidditch team to Hermione and Harry discussing what sort of homework they’re likely to get from their professors—until a loud and sudden jolting bang disrupts them.

And the entire train.

The Hogwarts Express is stranded on a bridge just past the border between England and Scotland a little after four-thirty in the afternoon. Hogwarts is informed of this stranding at three-minutes-to-five in the afternoon. Crowley finds out about the train at quarter-past-five, six whole minutes after Aziraphale resolves the problem with a haughty snap of his fingers and a very unimpressed commentary for the culprit responsible.

As such, the Hogwarts Express is a whopping eight minutes later than usual and this apparently leaves the Welcoming Feast in shambles. Evidently no one thought to spell the boats that cross the Black Lake to respond when prompted and not at a specific time. All of the students then are forced to travel to Hogwarts together—though first years are left till last to at least give some measure of time for the other years to rush into the Great Hall and seat themselves[2].

The first years are all sorted neatly and with very little fuss. Dumbledore—in his typical fashion—tells the entirety of the school that they have a new Defence Professor and apparently doesn’t think there is a single bit of a problem with this new appointment. Considering that the headmaster seems to rather enjoy twinkling his eyes at Gilderoy Lockhart however—well—perhaps he simply sees him as a pretty face[3].

None of the other staff members—notably McGonagall, Snape, Crowley and Aziraphale—are impressed with the winner of Witch Weekly’s whatever-it-is-smile but they all clap when required. Crowley gives the new professor one clap and a half-smirk half-scowl look that he has worn when feeling particularly disgusted by someone—the last person he directed that look at had been Hastur last time he’d been in hell actually, two weeks ago.

Everyone is sent to bed with full stomachs and promises of classes beginning bright and early—which most students manage a groan at even though they’re stuffed to the gills with food—leaving the staff to retire and do their own thing. Crowley and Aziraphale—being both immortal and not in need of much, if any, sleep—retire together and start Planning[4].

Morning is a dull and tedious affair but the first classes of the year go off without a hitch—that is, until they reach Lockhart and his… interesting teaching methods.

Crowley is called to help wrangle a room full of Cornish Pixie’s and doesn’t bother telling Harry and co off for sticking a lot of them in Lockhart’s chambers—he sends them on their way with a smirk: “off you pop, mind you don’t tell everyone where you put them,” he says and Harry grins at him before escaping the classroom. Lockhart tries to give them detention for his chambers being a bit… roasted but Crowley casually mentions at lunch that he is the cause of the charring as it “seemed like a good idea at the time” and the matter is dropped.

The beginning of the term is nice and simple and not at all stressful excluding Lockhart being stupid and idiotic and Crowley’s increasing contempt for the idiot but then Quidditch try-outs happen and Harry is, as always, smack-bang in the middle of drama.

Oliver Wood is ecstatic to have Harry as seeker for the team. He’s so ecstatic he actually kisses one of the Weasley twins—no one quite knows which one since both are equally shocked—and does a jig on the spot[5]. On the way back to the school, Harry, Ron, and Hermione come across Draco Malfoy and his two ‘friends’—if one can call the bodyguard-style boys whom Malfoy rarely talks to friends—and end up in a small tussle after rude and frankly offensive words are slung.

Crowley comes across the ruckus—along with Aziraphale—and is just not quick enough to separate them all before Lockhart—in typical idiot-fashion—blunders in and causes more problems.

It really is understandable that Crowley loses his temper and teleports the useless excuse for a wizard to somewhere in the Amazonian rainforest to be terrified by the larger cousins of Crowley’s houseplants. It really, really is.

“What—how did you do that?” Hermione exclaims wide-eyed as she stares at Crowley who is trying very hard not to hiss at everything in existence. No one notice the grass in the courtyard starting to tremble.

“Because I wanted to!” Crowley snaps, watching Aziraphale kneeling next to Ron and murmuring soft words to the boy. “Of all the stupid bloody things! That—he—I’ve known demons with more sense than him!”

“Now darling, do be fair,” Aziraphale says, glancing over his shoulder at Crowley. “Some of those demons were angels once, they had to have some intelligence.”

“Not enough not to go and be stupid and Fall, angel,” Crowley responds and Aziraphale can’t argue with that. “Yes, that includes me shut up.”

Aziraphale wisely shuts up.

Ron is gifted—as a result of Lockhart’s truly horrific magical ability—with coughing up slugs every few seconds until Aziraphale thinks of the right way to word the miracle and clears up the bout of gastropod mollusc indigestion.

“Pessstsss,” Crowley hisses at the slugs that are on the ground even after Aziraphale miracles Ron slug-free. The demon snaps his fingers extra hard and the slugs pop out of existence with a kind of quiet little echoey-scream more suited to a horror movie than the Hogwarts courtyard.

“Now, now, Crowley,” Aziraphale lectures, “they’re only doing what they were made to do.”

Crowley doesn’t respond to that—though any other time he probably would, with expletives—because his attention is drawn to the three Slytherins trying to not-so-subtly sneak away from punishment. “Detention,” Crowley drawls, looking at Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle with a not-so-nice smile. “Hagrid needs help with the dung heap for classes next week. He’ll be ecstatic for the help[6].”

“Wh-what about Potter!” Draco half-whines half-wails and it’s truly extraordinary the pitch the boy reaches. “And Weasley! And Granger! They attacked us!”

Crowley—in typical Crowley fashion—tilts his head a little and raises an eyebrow. It’s an interesting sight considering his sunglasses obscuring his eyes—sunglasses he hardly takes off outside of class unless he’s with Harry or Aziraphale—and lends itself to intimidation quite effectively. “They defended their friend from a bully—nothing wrong with that in my book.”

“Bu- wha- that’s not fair!”

“You called me a Mudblood, Malfoy!” Hermione shouts at the Slytherin boy who gives her an angry, ugly look. “You’re lucky I didn’t knock your teeth out!”

Crowley smirks. That would have been a sight to see, really.

Now, objectively speaking, children who get into physical fights are punished equally because—as they always say—two wrongs don’t make a right. Crowley thinks that is absolute rubbish. If someone is being a dick to someone and insulting them then the person being insulted is well within their rights to shut up the dickish person with a solid punch to the jaw or solar plexus. Of course, Crowley prefers words first but he’s decked a couple of demons before in the past and he’s perfectly happy and willing to deck a few more. If and when required, of course[7].

At Hogwarts, had it been any other teacher besides Crowley who’d caught them fighting, there’s no doubt both parties would have detention. Because that makes sense, right? It doesn’t matter who’s in the wrong if they’re fighting—except that it does.

Especially when the fighting is caused by stupid idiocy of a child who has no understanding of anything except his horrifically narrow worldview and likely could stand to benefit from a few smacks upside the head by people with some common sense.

Besides—Ron has been belching up slugs and he’s the one who was about to hex Malfoy so, in Crowley’s eyes, Ron’s already received his punishment. Now it’s Malfoy’s turn.

The Slytherin boy obviously dislikes Crowley’s logic but doesn’t argue much further beyond a “my father will hear about this” as though that’s going to intimidate Crowley into changing his mind. The day Crowley fears a pompous, stuck-up, entitled prick of a parent is the day Crowley starts simpering at Beelzebub’s knee.

So basically never.

Dinner is a simple, enjoyable affair without Lockhart at the staff table and Crowley takes great pleasure in being able to relax and lean against Aziraphale in his chair and not give a flying fuck what Dumbledore or any of the other staff think about it. If Crowley wants to sit next to his angel—or half sprawl across him as it is—then he’ll fucking well do exactly that.

Propriety be damned.

Of course, then Dumbledore ruins it all by dragging the staff to his office after and ‘politely’ demanding to know where the hell Lockhart is and what they’re going to do with Defence classes until he returns. This prompts Aziraphale to give Crowley That Look he does—the one that ended up with Crowley making bloody Hamlet popular—and the demon just groans.

“Hagrid can cover until Lockhart—uh—probably—returns,” he says, only a little bit reluctant. “I’ll take over Defence.”

“Preposterous!” Snape snarls, robes swirling in a swirly manner as he stalks across the room and stands directly opposite Crowley. “I am more than qualified to teach Defence, headmaster! Not this—” he gives Crowley a particularly nasty look that makes Aziraphale bristle “—child snatcher.”

Most would be forgiven for assuming Crowley to be the one who takes offence at people insulting him. It’s an easy assumption to make since he is, indeed, intimidating and quite vain. But they’d be wrong. Crowley can take name calling and insults and threats to his person and not give a damn—it’s very much par the course of being a demon—but insult someone he cares about—like Harry or Aziraphale—and Crowley takes every aspect of his personality, his past, everything he is and has been and May Yet Be and he turns it on the person being stupid enough as to insult what he loves.

Severus Snape assumes Crowley will hex him, curse him, shout at him, or even—perhaps—take a swing at him.

Severus Snape is wrong.

Big shock there.

“How dare you!”

You see, the mistake Severus Snape makes—that everyone makes—is thinking Crowley will defend himself. He won’t. Not unless he has to. But the thing is—he doesn’t necessarily need to. Not when he has an angel standing next to him bristling with anger and indignation and no small amount of wrath to do it for him.

Aziraphale stalks forward, placing himself between Snape and Crowley, his eyes blazing and they’re much brighter than usual because he is angry and they Know It Now. He raises a hand and pokes Snape in the chest. “Harry was being abused by his relatives and Crowley rescued him! You dare accuse him—him of all people—of snatching children! You have—you have no idea the lengths he has gone—what he’s been through—just so a few children can live when they were—when it was—when they weren’t supposed to according to the Almighty! How dare you!”

Crowley reaches out and touches Aziraphale’s arm, trying to calm the angel because he can feel how angry Aziraphale is. It’s too angry for this enclosed space with humans with magic that can possibly sense What They Are if they show too much. Aziraphale needs to reel it in.

“Angel, angel,” he says, pulling a little on Aziraphale’s arm and the angel turns to look at him. Crowley shakes his head ever so slightly and Aziraphale—understanding the demon and respecting him—backs down.

It’s clear in the way Aziraphale gives Snape a look that is only a second away from a Smiting that he really wants to keep going, but reason and common sense regain traction in Aziraphale’s mind and the angel steps back to stand flush against Crowley’s side. It’s obviously for his own reassurance as much as it is to send a Clear Message to Snape and the others that Aziraphale will not stand for someone threatening Crowley.

Perhaps that is why, then, Dumbledore doesn’t push the issue. The headmaster accepts Crowley’s solution but stresses that it is only until Lockhart returns or they need to find another replacement as Hagrid is still not fully qualified[8].

Some idiot—probably Lockhart before he was sent to only Crowley knows where—suggests a duelling club at some point and a gang of seventh years take it to the headmaster who—after some consideration—decides that it’s a splendid idea so long as there is suitable oversight. This results in Crowley—as the temporary Defence Against the Dark Arts professor—being roped in to oversee the entire fiasco. He opens it up to the rest of the school after a fifth year tries to sneak in to practice with the seventh years and only comes to regret this decision when Harry, Ron, and Hermione show up.

More specifically, he comes to regret it when they get it into their heads that he—as the defence professor—surely must be a skilled duellist and therefore can probably wipe the floor with Aziraphale—only a simple librarian—as well as the rest of the staff.

Harry, the absolutely unrepentant little brat, is grinning when he says, “you can probably beat the headmaster too.”

Now, considering Crowley is a demon, he obviously can best any human in near enough any avenue but, since the entirety of the school doesn’t believe he’s a demon, there’s an assumption that he’s just rather good at magic and probably is a dark wizard with less-than-dark-morals.

The irony of that belief is fucking hilarious, really.

Unfortunately for Crowley, Aziraphale shows up at the duelling club to watch it all and offer help with sourcing research for improving duelling skill. This means that the angel overhears—it’s not really ‘overhear’ since Harry and his friends seem to purposefully pitch their voices to carry—the remarks about Crowley obviously being a better dueller than Aziraphale.

And this is the point where Crowley wishes he’d never thought to visit Surrey that day—it’s only for a moment, but he wishes it nonetheless and has a jarring moment where the wish takes and he’s in an entirely different place, with strangers, and feels so painfully alone, before he banishes the wish and reality reasserts itself.

“It’s boring if you watch us adults do all the fighting!” Crowley exclaims, making sure his voice carries. “Oh sure! We have practice and we have skills but the best weapon you’ll ever have in a fight is imagination! What’s imaginative about watching us fight—” he gestures at himself and Aziraphale who has come to stand beside him “—when you could watch each other fight and use your imaginations to shape the magic instead of just copying us?”

“What do you mean?” One of the Ravenclaw fifth years asks, frowning. “We have to know spells before we can duel effectively,” she argues and—well—she’s right, you do need to know Stuff before you can Do Anything but sometimes… sometimes that Stuff is a barrier to what you can Try First.

“Yeah but you didn’t know spells when you were babies and you still did magic,” Crowley points out. “You learn stuff—words and numbers and maths and about places and spells—and that just—it limits your imagination—tells you what is and isn’t—all that sorta thing!” He looks at Aziraphale who is giving him his best Oh You’re On Your Own With This look and Crowley rolls his eyes. “Instinct and imagination are the best things you have—even when you probably think they aren’t—because one keeps you alive and the other makes you feel alive!”

“So—I don’t know—don’t think about spells and words and what charms suit whatever! Imagine you can make magic do anything for you—the language is meaningless; it’s human and limited! Magic isn’t limited! Magic is—it’s—well it’s—” Crowley stumbles, trying to think of a word, a way to explain what magic is.

Aziraphale comes to his rescue. “Ineffable.”

None of the Ravenclaw students really seem to get what Crowley means—well, some do, but most of them are as confused as the rest of the students from the other houses—and Crowley wants to sigh. He should have known trying to explain magic—just another form of Divine and Infernal power—to humans wouldn’t go well. They just can’t comprehend it.

Still. He tried.

“Pair up, try and disarm, tie up, trap each other. No maiming, no killing, nothing dark, and no torture—of any kind,” Crowley sighs, giving up.

The students all scramble to pair off and—unfortunately—Hermione and Ron pair up before Harry can snag either of them. Someone shoves into him and he ends up tumbling into Malfoy who gives him a dirty, haughty look before it switches to a horrified expression when Crowley declares: “you’re all paired up. Get duelling.”

Neither Harry or Malfoy have any real chance of grabbing different partners—especially since everyone around them is paired up and already throwing spells around like they have the magical equivalent of semi-automatic weapons and not single shooter wands—but this doesn’t stop them from at least trying. It fails—naturally—since they’re both second years and the students around them are fifth year and up and don’t want to be saddled with babies when duelling.

This leaves them both reluctantly accepting they are stuck with each other until they have a real chance of swapping with someone else. Unfortunately, this ends as most of their interactions usually do: badly.

“Serpensortia!”

A large black mamba erupts from Malfoy’s wand, propelled by whatever force the spell creates in the air directly toward Harry. It lands a few feet from him and hisses angrily at the landing.

Snakes, as a general rule, do not enjoy being dropped, thrown, dragged, or any variation of these. It is perfectly reasonable then for the snake to be Most Peeved and wanting to lash out at anything near enough for it to sink its fangs into.

The nearest thing just so happens to be Harry James Potter who also just so happens to be a parselmouth.

“Are you okay?”

The snake hisses confused because here’s a human talking to it after it’s been dropped into this place from where it was very nice and comfy in the forest curled up in a patch of sunlight. “I am not! I have been attacked in my sleep!”

“Attack- oh, Malfoy summoned you from somewhere?” Harry looks surprised for a moment before he decides to focus on the fact that the black mamba is still Very Annoyed. “It wasn’t an attack, it was a spell. He used it to summon you in a duel. Probably thought I’d panic and run away from you.”

“Why aren’t you?” The snake asks, curious and calming down more and more as it listens to Harry speak to it.

The entire hall has fallen rather silent around them but Harry is focused on the snake because he doesn’t want it to hurt anyone. He does wonder if uncle Crowley is going to arrive soon. It would be nice, he thinks, for the snake to have someone else to reassure it.

“I like snakes,” Harry says, shrugging. “My uncle is one.”

“What kind of snake is he?” The black mamba slithers towards him now, curiosity outweighing its anger because—well—it’s curious. “He should be a strong, large snake. I might like him if he is.”

Harry smiles. “Any kind of snake he wants to be.”

Obviously that statement nonplusses the black mamba but before it can hiss out anything else, Aziraphale and Crowley are there, students moving further away from their professors who stare at Harry kneeling near to the black mamba.

The very venomous snake that is now rearing back in alarm.

“It is not possible!” The snake exclaims, and its blinking in the way snakes do but if it were human the expression on its face would be very close to fearful respect and awe. “You are—it is—creator!”

Aziraphale smiles. “And another one recognises you, dear,” he says to Crowley who rolls his eyes.

“Shut up angel,” Crowley says before he steps forward and focuses on the snake. “Yes yes, it’s me, I know, bit of a shock. Come here—I’ll get you back to where you belong after a check-up. Silly boy using a snake-summoning spell like that.” He kneels down and holds a hand out for the black mamba to slither toward and around. “He could have hurt you.”

“I am strong!” The black mamba says, curling up his arm and slithering across his shoulders. “He did not hurt me, just startled me. I was sleeping!”

“Well that was rude of him,” Crowley says glancing at Malfoy who looks shockingly pale—well, more pale—and flinches when the demon looks at him. “You woke her from her sleep—can’t blame her for feeling bitey for that. Horrible thing to do.”

This—apparently—is some sort of Signal for the entire hall to lose its collective mind as students either scramble for the door or badger Harry and Crowley with questions and accusations. Aziraphale silences the lot of them with a snap of his fingers that has the hall of students staring at him dumbfounded.

“You’re scaring her with your shouting,” Aziraphale says, reaching out to pet the black mamba on the head. She allows his touch, leaning into it and Crowley doesn’t give Aziraphale a slightly jealous look for the attention he’s bestowing on the snake—but it’s a near thing. Okay so he does. He does and Aziraphale just smiles at him in return.

Dumbledore is informed later on at dinner of the events of the duelling club when Crowley shows up to dinner with the black mamba still on his shoulders. His explanation for why she’s still around is a simple, “she wanted to sight see” and none of the staff are willing to question that any further[9]. The whole school is abuzz for days with rumours of Harry, Crowley, and Aziraphale being a trio of dark wizards—even though Aziraphale is literally a being of light and purity and charming awkwardness—because they’re parselmouths. These rumours all conveniently leave out the source of the summoned snake and the technicality that Aziraphale doesn’t speak parseltongue, he can simply be universally understood by all animals and can understand them in turn.

Of course, these are teenagers with teenage imaginations and they run absolutely wild with it all. Considering the attack on Mister Filch’s cat that occurred only a month or so prior, it’s not entirely surprising that Crowley is dealing with petrified students—not literally—in his classes until the Fear aspect wears off when he loses his temper, transforms into an abnormally large python and sulks at his desk for an entire class. Apparently something about Crowley becoming a snake to avoid the fears of his students strikes them as inherently illogical and totally in-character for the professor they’d come to know in Care of Magical Creatures.

This action helps settle down the fears and rumours of the students toward Crowley and, jointly, Harry and Aziraphale. It is a relief considering the Christmas holidays are just around the corner and he has no desire to deal with a glum angel or depressed son while they’re in London.

Thus it is that Christmas begins with Harry rushing for the train, Monty the snake wrapped around his arm and Dog-the-mongrel—who has deigned it necessary to not live in the forest any longer at the moment and thus is willing to be With Her Human—loping along beside him in a stride that could be maintained for hours.

“I’ll see you guys over Christmas right?” he asks, the moment he’s comfortably seated—Dog-the-mongrel curled up at his feet and Monty asleep in his lap—on the train. “Uncle ‘Zira told me that you guys are totally welcome at the bookshop.”

“And Professor Crowley?” Ron asks, wary and a little bit afraid still. He has accepted that Harry can talk to snakes and Doesn’t Think It’s A Big Deal but the ginger is still wrapping his head around their temporary defence professor being a parselmouth as well.

Harry shrugs. “Uncle Crowley wants to take me to the reptile house at London Zoo,” he says, “I don’t think he’d mind if either of you came along. He wants to see how they’re taking care of the snakes, he says.”

“You don’t believe him?” Hermione asks, frowning.

“No, I do,” Harry says, “but I think he might want to—I don’t know—I think he wants to just see them. Maybe they’re his friends?”

The idea that Crowley is friends with snakes on display at a zoo is—apparently—not as mind-bogglingly shocking as him declaring himself to be a demon and never being believed by anyone he tells except Harry.

Harry’s Christmas is relatively normal for the most part. He enjoys his gifts from his friends and his adoptive parents—Crowley and Aziraphale both give him gifts that are very expensive and cost more than it did to build Hogwarts but they’re immortal and money is no consequence to them. Hermione gets him an eagle feather quill that looks fantastic but won’t get used as much as it might have considering one of the gifts he received from Crowley was a single black feather quill that looked like it belonged to a giant swan but was, in fact, from Crowley’s own wings. It was a treasured possession and one Harry would always favour above and beyond any other quill he’d ever receive.

Ron’s gives him a book on the Chuddley Cannons that is an obnoxious shade of orange. Harry is pleased with it regardless of the colour scheme and settles down to read it while waiting for the Christmas dinner he can hear Aziraphale and Crowley bickering over as they make it. Hagrid’s tin of treacle fudge is expertly dished into a baking tray by Crowley and shoved in the oven after dinner is ready so it can be somewhat edible by the time they’ve finished eating.

Overall, Harry’s Christmas is as pleasant as ever and he is forever grateful that Crowley took him away from Number Four. It’s why he gives Crowley and Aziraphale gifts of his own that are—to some—rather tacky but have a lot of meaning behind them. This year, Harry gives them both a copy of the first picture he ever took of the three of them when he was ten and Aziraphale gave him a camera. The image moves like a magical photo because Harry had done what no one in the duelling club had thought to; he’d imagined it to be moving and pushed magic at the photograph until it did exactly that.

Aziraphale is prone to tears when he’s happy, sad, or any sort of emotion besides angry, so Harry isn’t surprised to be swept into a hug by the angel and see tears in Aziraphale’s eyes. He is surprised to see Crowley wiping a tear away from his eye just moments before he gives Harry his own hug—one that is just a bit too tight to be a casual embrace. Harry doesn’t entirely understand what he’s done to elicit such emotions from the two but he understands that they love him. They love him enough to have fought off Voldemort last year. They love him enough to argue with Dumbledore all the time. They love him enough that they chose to raise him and don’t regret making that choice.

And all of that—that all means the world to a boy like Harry James Potter. He has a family and it’s a little bit odd but it’s still good—and bad—and he is forever grateful for it.

He doesn’t realise that Aziraphale and Crowley are grateful for the same thing.

But he will. In time. He will.

[1] He acts as though he hasn’t seen them the entire summer when he has—no less than two dozen times in total, including the week-long visit to the bookshop by Ron and Hermione, and also Harry’s own week at the Burrow. This is standard behaviour of children however, and thus doesn’t really require any commentary beyond a “thought you ought to know” feeling by the author.

[2] Everyone’s luggage is left on the train except the basic necessities like medication at the polite but firm orders from Aziraphale. He snaps his fingers moments after the students have all left the platform at Hogsmeade and the luggage is promptly delivered to their correct locations with the exception of a few select objects that Crowley will take great pleasure in making inert before returning them to their original owners.

[3] Heaven- and hell-know that’s all Gilderoy Lockhart really is. And even then, it’s not a particularly pretty kind of face. More smarmy and irritating and obviously plucking of the eyebrows to the point of problems. But each to their own Crowley and Aziraphale both figure—well, who are they to judge?

[4] It is worth noting that neither of these two absolute morons know what they’re actually planning for and, rather, this is more an excuse for them to spend time together. Of course, since they’re both in love with each other to a sickening degree, the fact that they still pretend otherwise at times—and, indeed, seem to embrace the ruse—really says a lot about them both, doesn’t it?

[5] Not—to clarify-an Irish jig. No. That would be stereotypical and not at all okay. No, Oliver Wood does the equivalent of jumping up and down very quickly and with barely any actual height attained because he’s so full of energy and joy and cannot adequately channel it. This is—incidentally—why he kisses one of the twins; they’re the nearest to him and simply a victim to his manic happiness. Not that said twin complained after the shock wore off.

[6] In truth, Hagrid will not thank him in the slightest for sending three annoying, whining Slytherins to come do manual labour but the groundskeeper-assistant-professor does take a certain amount of glee in witnessing Draco Malfoy falling into said dung heap no less than three times in one night.

[7] The irony of this is not lost on the author who has finally decided that this entire series is set in the 90s as a sort of middle way for the Harry Potter novels technically set in the 80s and Good Omens set in the same period, but then there is the TV version of Good Omens which the author loves and is set in the bloody 2000s+… honestly, the author is past the point of caring here, but since they shot themselves in the foot with mentioning the 3 Ninjas movie (well done, you utter fool), it is decided that the year of Our Lord is 1992 at this point in the story. The irony then—now the context is explained—is that Crowley is very well going to fight some demons about twenty years from this point and be very tired of himself and circumstances as a result. Also, this author staunchly argues these two idiots are A Thing from day one and they just have periods of Denying It For Political Reasons. Like idiots in love tend to do.

[8] Crowley gives the headmaster the middle finger at that remark. Aziraphale doesn’t even bother to pretend to be shocked by the action, too busy still being angry and wrathful.

[9] The black mamba had eventually returns to whence she came after meeting Harry’s own snake and deciding he had adequate protection as the chosen child of their creator. It leaves Harry a little bit confused as to why he needs protection but his snake—thusly named Monty for Reasons that Harry refuses to explain to any pureblood wizard including Ron—but Crowley distracts him with the story of How He Made Snakes For God and Harry quickly forgets what the black mamba was talking about.

#Good Omens #Good Omens Spoilers #Ineffable husbands #Crowley #Aziraphale #HP #Harry Potter #Absconding with Harry verse #Year Two #2nd chapter #Fic update #GOmens

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luckyspike · 5 years ago

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Adventures in America, Ch. 3 - in which Adam meets his traveling companions and Crowley and Aziraphale meet their rental car

This story is so dumb and I love it. For prior installments, check out chapter 1, and chapter 2. Or just peruse my fanfiction tag (which has a lot of other stuff in it, too!).

Touchdown. BA flight 191, after an uneventful flight, touched down in Austin International Airport at 4:17pm. “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to, uh, Austin,” the pilot announced over the intercom. Adam, who had nodded off for the latter half of the flight, was looking out of the window eagerly, hands on his knees and feet bouncing. All the excitement, the nerves, the sheer joy that this was really happening that he’d had when he boarded, and then lost when he’d gotten bored, came roaring back tenfold as the brown scenery slid by outside. “Local time is 4:18pm, and outside temperature is about 84 degrees, which is about 29 centigrade. We’ll be arriving at gate -” Adam zoned out. Outside of the airplane, ground crew directed the jet to the gate in question, but it didn’t matter, not to Adam. He wouldn’t be meeting anybody at the gate, anyway.

He turned his phone back on, and sent a quick text to his parents, and then another to the group text that included the Them and Anathema. He paused, debating whether or not to also text Crowley or Aziraphale, but he paused. Hopefully the international plan he’d paid for was as good as it seemed, and his dad wouldn’t give him an earful about international rates when he got home, but, well, maybe just in case … certainly they’d hear through the grapevine, anyway. He stuffed the phone into his bag instead, and pulled out the slip of paper he’d written the instructions for meeting up with the storm chasing team instead. Meet at the baggage claim. Right, easy enough. He had to pick up his duffel bag anyway.

Disembarking the plane took, in Adam’s opinion, ages. They let all the posh people in first class off first, and then business class, and finally economy. He held his backpack straps tightly, shuffling down the aisle in the line, and tried to look calm and cool, not like a kid on Christmas morning, in spite of the excitement bubbling inside of him. He’d be looking for a woman, Rachael, who was tall and tanned and dark-haired. They’d video-chatted extensively in the lead-up to the excursion, and he was fairly certain he would recognize her on sight. Still, she’d said she’d be holding a sign, too, so best to look out for that -

He paused, halfway through first class. Sniffed. Something smelled of … sulfur. Sulfur? And a rainstorm. It reminded him of Aziraphale and Crowley’s place, and the memory jarred him enough that he looked around for the duo, blue eyes scanning the rows of first-class seats. He didn’t see them, of course, or any signs of them, although he wasn’t sure what that might have entailed. Still … Nah. He shook his head, and kept shuffling. They’d told him to have a good time. They wouldn’t have managed to keep anything secret like this, not those two. For godfath - no, guardian ang - well, not really … guardian supernatural entities, they weren’t particularly subtle and as a unit, Adam thought fondly, only slightly brighter than they were individually. Which wasn’t saying much*.

The air on the jetway was dry, and hot, and reminiscent of Madrid, the few times Adam had been there to visit his sister. He took a deep breath, grateful to finally be off the plane and back on terra firma, and hustled toward baggage claim and customs. He found his duffel, and made it through customs - it wasn’t any trouble, just a line which Adam managed to tolerate by looking around and taking in the sights of the airport which had, through creative architecture, attempted to resemble a modern art installation but instead mostly looked like a government building with a bit of window dressing.

“Enjoy your vacation,” the woman at the customs desk drawled, with an accent Adam had previously only heard in movies. His heart skipped a beat, and he beamed.

“I will do, thank you so much.”

And that was it. He was in! He didn’t skip through the exit from customs, although it was a near thing, and quickly started looking around at the assembled crowd, scanning the faces there for anyone that looked familiar or, failing that, a sign that said ‘Adam Young’. He found it, eventually, held by Rachael, just as she’d looked on video chat, herself looking among the faces of arriving travelers for Adam. She caught sight of him as he started toward her, boots still squeaking on the linoleum, and waved him over, her face breaking into a friendly grin. “Adam!” She seized his hand as soon as he offered it, and shook with bone-crushing strength and no small amount of enthusiasm. “Hey, welcome to Texas! So good to finally meet you!” She had an accent too, Adam realized, sort of southern but not like the woman at customs, just a hint of that. He’d have to find out where she was from.

“Great to be here,” he enthused, and he meant every word of it. “I’m so excited, this is really an amazing opportunity.”

“Glad to hear it!” she laughed. “Hopefully we can find you some storms, huh?” She looked over his bag, eyebrows raised. “You got everything? Need anything else here? The rest of the crew is waiting outside - the other student researcher got here this morning, so we just been hanging out around the city while we waited.”

“Oh, yeah, I’m totally ready.”

She nodded, satisfied, and headed for the door, Adam tagging along at her shoulder. “Great. The truck’s parked in the will-call lot, let me just call Noel and he can pull around. Let’s wait inside, though -” she held out a hand to stop Adam before he stepped through the sliding doors. “Kinda warm out there. Definitely warmer than England, huh?” She grinned, and then Adam heard a tinny voice on the other end of the phone. “Yeah, hey, I got Adam, can you bring the truck around? Thanks.” She hung up, and stuffed her phone into her jeans pocket before she propped her hands on her hips. “So I’ll introduce you all when they get here, but basically it’s gonna be four of us. You know me, I’m the climatologist and I guess the main guide, but Noel helps a lot. He’s our meteorologist, driver, and photographer too, but since it’s just the two of us we both kinda wear all kinda hats.” She pointed to Adam. “You’re one of our student researchers, and we have another guy with us for this session. Hope you don’t mind if we put you to work.”

Adam laughed. “It’s what I signed up for!”

“More fun that way, anyway.” She sighed, happy, as she watched a variety of vehicles drive by outside, picking up travelers as they did. “Better than those storm tours that just drive around lookin’ and not much else. We gotta get closer to get the data. Anyway, other guy that’s with us goes by Lucky, I’ll let him introduce himself, but he’s studying climatology at, uh … somewhere in Iowa, I think. I think you guys are the same age.” She waved a hand. “Whatever, I’ll let you guys hash it out, we’re gonna have plenty of time in the car.”

“Sounds good.” Adam nodded, and adjusted his bag on his shoulder.

“Anyway,” she went on, “plan tonight is to take you guys out to dinner, kind of get to know each other and everything, go over the plan for chasing, yadda yadda, and then we’re gonna hit the road early tomorrow to get north.” Her eyes widened, and she gestured for Adam to follow her outside. “There’s Noel. Anyway, yeah, we’re heading north -” she strolled off the curb and into the lane of traffic without much concern for oncoming cars. Adam, well-accustomed to this after years of interactions with Crowley, followed her without concern. “- ‘cause there’s a big system forming around the Oklahoma panhandle, and we might see some action day one.” She wagged her eyebrows at him. “Start off with a bang, right?”

“That’d be wicked.”

She chuckled. “Wicked, huh? I like that. Here’s the boss!” she called, as they pulled up alongside a red pick-up truck. Adam’s eyes widened. Americans, he thought, really knew how to do pick-up trucks. He’d seen pick-up trucks in England, of course, but this monster dwarfed most of them. The extended cab and the bed cover just served to make it look bigger. And it wasn’t the only one of that size parked at the curb - he could count four just in the immediate vicinity.

Well, he had heard things about Texas.

“Hey!” a man called over the roaring engine, and Adam looked up to see the driver standing on the sideboard, clutching the luggage rack with one hand and waving with the other. “I’m Noel! You can throw your bag in the back, Rach’ll show you where to put it with all the equipment.” He grinned. “Gotta get movin’ before we get a ticket.”

Rachael rolled her eyes. “We won’t get a ticket,” she said to Adam, in a tone that probably would have been a whisper had she not had to shout over the commotion of the pick-ups lane. “Here,” she showed him to the back of the truck, dropping the gate and revealing a bed packed full of bags, boxes, and expensive-looking meteorology equipment, “you can put your bag here, next to the camera bags.” He did, and she threw the gate back into place, brushing her hands off and turning her beaming smile to him once again. “You ready to hit it?”

“Yes,” he said immediately, still smiling. He wasn’t sure he’d stopped since he’d gotten off the plane. “Let’s do it.”

She punched him in the shoulder. Adam laughed, and then thought of Pepper. She punched him like that, back home. Man, would she have loved this. She’d have loved Rachael, too. “Love the enthusiasm, kid. Load up!” She climbed into the front passenger seat of the truck, and Adam hauled open the rear passenger door, climbing onto the footboard and sliding into the seat. Across from him, a suntanned boy - yeah, about his age - with a scruffy beard and dark hair pulled into a bun smiled at him with a wave. Adam waved, but then was distracted when Noel stuck his hand into the back to shake Adam’s.

“Welcome aboard, Mr. Young.”

“You can call me Adam, really,” he assured Noel. “Thanks for having me.”

“Hey, if you’re willing to work and don’t run off at the first sign of golf-ball sized hail, it’ll be a pleasure,” Noel replied with a laugh. “Alright, let’s get you guys a taste of Texas. Everyone good with barbecue?”

“Yeah,” Adam said, in unison with the other guy in the back seat. Noel nodded, and the truck roared forward, out of the airport.

“So you’re from England?” the other guy said, turning his attention to Adam and offering his hand to shake. Adam took note, as he shook the guy’s hand, that there was … a hint of a London accent? Just a little? No, couldn’t be. “I grew up around London, ‘til I was about twelve,” he went on. Oh. Yes, then.

“Really? Funny old world,” Adam replied. “Name’s Adam Young. I’m from Tadfield - it’s a little town out in Oxfordshire.”

“Huh. Never got out that way, at least not that I remember.” He looked puzzled. “Although there was an air base there my Dad might’ve been working out of at some point … huh. Anyway.” The guy sat back in his seat and shrugged. “My name’s Warlock Dowling, but please do not call me Warlock.” He rolled his eyes. “I think my mom was hopped up on pain meds when she named me. Everyone calls me Lucky.”

Adam nodded. “Cool, okay. You’re studying climatology?”

“Climate science, yeah,” Lucky answered, eagerly. “You are too, right?”

“Meteorology, yeah.”

“It’s so cool, isn’t it?” He looked out of the window, gesturing to the cityscape passing by as they rolled down the highway. “The whole Earth! Man, when I started learning about weather and geology and stuff in seventh grade, once I came back to the States …” He waved a hand. “Forget it. I used to make weather maps for fun. Drove my parents crazy.”

Adam laughed, genuinely, and nodded. “It’s awesome. I was eleven,” he said, with absolute certainty, because he wouldn’t forget that year for anything, “an’ this lady - she’s a friend, now, but she was new to town then - gave me these magazines that were talking about climate change and severe weather and the rainforests and stuff, an’, I dunno, just had an interest ever since. Studied a lot on my own, outside of school, when we moved on to like, biology and stuff.”

“Oh, yeah.” Lucky nodded. “So you’ve never been to the States before?”

Adam shook his head. “No. I mean, I’m as excited for that as I am for the weather, honestly.”

“Good!” Noel interjected from the front seat. “You’re gonna get a hell of a tour of the midwest, see all kinds of stuff. We’ll go over it at dinner, I think we got a map too, so you can kind of get an idea of where we’ll be. And, you know, if the weather don’t pan out like we hope it will - hopefully it will pan out, but you never know - by the end of the season we should be up by Yellowstone, so we can always show you around up there.” He smiled at the backseat passengers approvingly in the rearview. “I’m from Wyoming myself, so I can give you the local tour.”

Lucky’s eyes widened. “ Seriously? That’d be awesome. I’ve never been, always wanted to go.” He looked to Adam. “You know about Yellowstone? It’s supposed to be amazing.”

“I’ve read about it.” Adam nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, it’d be cool to see it.”

“Well, we’ll have to see what the weather is doing. You never know how things are gonna go in this business.”

Rachael grinned at them over her shoulder. “That’s what makes it exciting.”

“An’ sometimes real boring,” Noel added.

“Sometimes,” she agreed, with a wink to the students. “But we’re not gonna think about that. You guys are here to study some storms, we’ll get you storms.”

The conversation continued on, through the drive to the barbecue place, and then all through dinner. They went over the route - starting south, around the Oklahoma/Texas border, and then moving north as needed with the storms, likely ending up toward the Canadian border at the end of the season. They talked equipment - cameras and recording equipment, laptops, hot-spots, as well as some remote monitoring equipment that Rachael hoped to drop if there was a great deal of lightning, which was her particular interest. Adam and Lucky listened intently, contributed as needed, and ate so much barbecue throughout the entire thing that Adam felt fairly nauseous by the end of the meal. Judging by Lucky’s expression when they stood from the table, he felt similarly.

“It was just so good,” Adam lamented once back in the truck, his hands over his stomach.

Noel nodded solemnly in the front seat, hanging a right into a motel parking lot. “A common mistake. Sleep it off tonight, we got an early start in the morning.” He parked the truck well away from the door - none of the parking spots, Adam imagined, would have been big enough - and looked into the backseat. “Five AM work for you boys?”

Adam ignored Lucky’s quiet ‘oof’ and nodded, slinging his backpack over his shoulders. “I’ll be ready.”

“Fantastic.”

Several hours earlier …

“I feel like I’m covered in grime,” Aziraphale griped, as they meandered their way through baggage claim and toward the rental car desks. “Is that normal for air travel?”

“Can’t be, you only just spent ten hours in an aluminum tube with the re-circulated air of a bunch of other people.”

“Touche.” He cracked his neck and frowned. “I need a shower.”

“You know,” Crowley said slyly, handing his shoulder-bag (black, obviously) off to Aziraphale, “had you let me ensure the Bentley would be waiting for us outside we could already be on our way to a nice, lovely hotel room with a hot shower and not waiting in line at a rental car desk.”

Aziraphale huffed. “It’s not a long line.” He caught the look Crowley gave him, and turned his nose up a little. “I’m going to wait by the door. There will be a shuttle, apparently.”

“Marvelous.”

The angel watched from a distance too far to hear while the demon negotiated with the man at the desk. There were some subtle gestures, a raised eyebrow from Crowley, some significant stammering from the man, and eventually, he handed over an envelope. Crowley smiled and swaggered away from the desk, toward Aziraphale, who watched him suspiciously.

“What was that about?”

“Got us an upgrade.” Crowley took his own bag back*** and led the way to the shuttle, waiting outside in the heat. Aziraphale’s suspicious glare turned to a grimace when they stepped into the pick-up area, fighting back the urge to loosen his bowtie against the humidity and oppressive heat. They were back in the air conditioning of the shuttle soon enough and sat down, side-by-side, Aziraphale with his suitcase between his knees and Crowley with his bag in his lap.

“What kind of upgrade?” Aziraphale asked pointedly, as the van doors closed - improbably, there were no other passengers to pick up, although Aziraphale suspected there was some infernal interference that led to that state of affairs - and the shuttle rumbled away from the curb. “If we walk into that rental car lot and there’s a vintage Bentley -”

Crowley groaned. “No, angel. If I’d brought the Bentley over I wouldn’t be bothering with this bloody shuttle. I got us a bigger car, is all.” He glanced at the envelope. “Had us in some little economy thing, probably only had a four-cylinder engine and a governor.”

“Don’t all rental cars have a governor?”

“I’d imagine this one’s will be broken.” Crowley gave the angel a cool look, a dare to say anything. Aziraphale didn’t take the bait. “Any case, I told him we needed four-wheel-drive.”

“Do we?” Aziraphale looked surprised.

Crowley shrugged. “Watched a show on telly before we left. They go all over, dirt roads sometimes, figured it’d be smart to have. Plus, it was the only thing with the bigger engine.”

“Does the Bentley have a big engine?”

Crowley shrugged. “Acts like it does.”

“Crowley …” Aziraphale lowered his voice, in case the shuttle driver were listening in, although the young man looked cheerful and blissfully unaware of their conversation. “Please don’t do anything infernal to the rental car.”

“Me?” Crowley looked wounded. “Wouldn’t dream of it. There’s already one semi-sentient demonic car in the world, and it’s currently in a garage terrorizing a wages clerk. That’s more than enough for one planet.”

Aziraphale sat back in his seat, prim, hands folded in his lap. “I agree. Good. Glad we’re in agreement.”

They finished the shuttle ride in silence, Aziraphale looking out of the window to the passing landscape, which was mostly buildings so close to the airport, and Crowley apparently dozing, although it was hard to tell with the sunglasses. Which seemed, Aziraphale thought, as he looked out of the window, to be a fairly wise addition in this kind of weather. He may need to get himself a pair, should the opportunity arise. Not that he needed them, but, well, it wouldn’t hurt to look the part.

The shuttle lurched to a halt, and they stepped off, Crowley handing the driver a roll of green dollar bills without a word as he went by. “Thank you so much,” Aziraphale added, on his way by, smiling to the stunned driver. “Excellent driving, very pleasant and observant of the speed limit. Have a lovely day.”

“Thanks.” The driver watched them go. What weird people, he thought, his eyes sliding from their receding backs to the roll of money in his hand. Can’t complain, though. He tucked the bills into his pocket, and pulled away, back on his regular route to the airport. He would have a nice day, he thought. Things were already looking brighter.

Aziraphale didn’t ask, ‘is this it?’ as they approached a car. It wouldn’t be. It was green, and small, and he wasn’t sure what kind of upgrade Crowley had managed but he was fairly sure that was not a large enough car. He didn’t ask ‘is this it?’ at the next car, either, but in this case it was because the car was so obviously it.

It was huge, and black, and it looked menacing just sitting in the parking lot. Crowley clicked a button on the key fob - that was novel, Aziraphale thought - and the lights flashed while a chirp sounded. The demon hoisted open the back hatch - Aziraphale blinked at the sheer size of the inside of the thing - and tossed his bag in, followed by the angel’s.

“It’s bigger than the Bentley,” he said, because he wasn’t sure what else to say. Crowley grunted, and started toward the right side of the vehicle before, if his annoyed expression were anything to go by, remembering that this was America, and changing direction. Aziraphale closed the back hatch and headed for the passenger side, frowning at the height of the step onto the footboard. No car had any business, he thought vaguely, being this large.

Inside the car already, with the keys in the ignition and the engine running, Crowley was sitting back in the seat, arms crossed, glaring at the stereo. He glanced over when he saw Aziraphale, and for a minute, his expression softened. “Ah, angel, you might want to … uh, wait outside a minute.”

“I thought you said no funny business with the car,” Aziraphale said flatly.

“Nothing funny.” Crowley looked back to the stereo, his expression hardening again. “Just need to reach an … understanding.”

Aziraphale sighed, and unfastened his bowtie, tossing it to Crowley who caught it with practiced ease. “Alright.” He stepped back down, and started unbuttoning the top few buttons of his shirt. “But don’t take too long - it’s hot out here.”

“Only be a minute, angel.” The door shut. Crowley raised an eyebrow. “Hullo,” he said to the car, drawing the word out. “4-runner, eh?”

To this point in its 45,000 miles, the Toyota 4-Runner had never had a single thought. Of course it hadn’t - it was a machine, an inanimate tool of transportation. It had happily transported families, salesmen, concert-goers and, on one occasion, secret agents without a hint of self-awareness or even a tinge of consciousness. This was why the car was surprised to find, suddenly, that this was no longer the case.

The radio station flickered uncertainly.

“I have a feeling,” the driver went on, while the car considered that it had never recognized a driver before, “that I’m going to be spending entirely more time with you than I’d like to. So just to be clear: I don’t like you, I probably will never like you, and there is very little you can do to that will not, ultimately, disappoint me.” The electronics flickered again. Anxiety, thought the car. What was anxiety? Why did it know that was what it was feeling? “Really, this can only end one of two ways for you: you don’t disappoint me too much, and I return you at the end of this bonkers road trip to your safe rental agency, where they’ll clean you up and you can go on being a nice rental car, or you disappoint me too much and -” he leaned closer to the radio, and the hiss cut through the static of the electronics and silenced the squeal of interference between high-tech electronics and supernatural forces “- I’ll leave you in a ditch in flamesss, sssee if I don’t. Underssstood?”

The engine shuddered. The driver - Crowley, the car thought, although it wasn’t sure how it knew that name, or why it was even thinking about it in the first place - sat back and breathed out. “Right. Alright, angel!” The passenger door opened again and a passenger - the car would have gasped, if it could, although it did manage an extra-strong blast of air conditioning - climbed back in, radiating love and light and safety. Without understanding how, or why, the car switched its stereo immediately to a country-music radio station that was currently playing Somebody Help Me by Kenny Rogers. Crowley glared at the stereo and murmured, “Not a good start.”

“Did you, you know, do whatever you needed to do?” the angel asked, gesturing vaguely to the dashboard.

Crowley put the car into reverse as he said, cryptically, “We’ll see. Hotel first, then dinner?”

“Yes, fine. Do you know where Adam is?” He considered it. “Only I wouldn’t like to lose him so early on in the game. Again.”

“We can recon after dinner,” Crowley said, pulling into traffic and immediately running another car off the road. Aziraphale winced. “He told me the name of the team he’s going with, I found a picture of their truck online. We’ll drive around and look for it.”

“Unless he’s already left the city.” Aziraphale wrung his hands, nervous. “You don’t think they would have?”

“Nah. Got a text from Anathema that Adam said they’re not leaving until the morning, and they’ll be going north.” He ran a red light, prompting blaring horns from either side of the intersection and a whine from the engine of the 4-Runner. “Don’t have much beyond that, but we can find him.”

“Austin is a large city.”

“Not as big as London.” He shrugged. “We have all night, we’ll find him. Get some wine into you and you’ll be fine.”

“Perhaps.” Aziraphale looked out of the window as they drove down a highway, cars whizzing by on the right as Crowley passed them at - well, the speedometer didn’t bear looking at. He swallowed. “It’s been some time since I did a reconnaissance job.”

“Bodyguarding, more like,” Crowley said, conversationally, yanking the steering wheel to the right and flying down the exit ramp to the hotel. “Been a minute for me, myself. But It’s like … oh, you know.” He drummed his fingers on the wheel, irritated. “Like - like something you learn to do and never really forget.”

“Swordfighting?” Aziraphale suggested.

“Maybe.”

Aziraphale had made the reservations under his name, and checked them in with the pleasant woman at the front desk. Overall, it was a very nice conversation - she was telling him about places to eat in town, especially where to get good sushi - and he was just getting ready to bid her a good day and take his leave when, from behind him, Crowley shouted, “Riding a bike!”

The woman blinked. “There are, uh, bike trails along the greenbelt -” but Aziraphale was waving a hand. “Oh?”

“He remembered something from earlier,” he explained with an apologetic smile, as he picked up his suitcase. “He does this sometimes. You get used to it.”

“Oh.” She blinked. “Okay. Well, have a nice trip! Enjoy America!”

“Thank you. I’m sure we will,” Aziraphale replied, following Crowley toward the elevators. As they waited for the elevator to arrive, the clerk looked down to her computer - such a nice man, a little strange - and smiled a little when she heard him mutter to his companion, “You really need to work on that, dear.”

* Adam did know, actually, that Aziraphale and Crowley were each quite intelligent. They helped him with homework, after all. But book smarts, he reasoned, and actual common sense were vastly different, and while they might be brilliant in their own right intellectually, as a duo they at times struggled with concepts like pre-planning, not telling everyone their secret plans, and interacting with normal humans like they themselves were normal humans**.

** Adam knew they weren’t, but a little effort sometimes wouldn’t go amiss. There was, of course, the incident with The School Play. Crowley had been forgiven, eventually, but it took approximately one (1) metric tonne of candy in gifts, a generous donation to the school’s art department, and a weekend at Alton Towers for the entirety of the Them, all expenses paid.

*** Aziraphale had wondered what he’d packed in there, since Crowley invariably always miracled his clothes on and off, but he suspected it was hair products.

Now with Chapter 4!

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #aziraphale #crowley #adam young #warlock dowling #i wish i didn't enjoy fanfiction so much #the one where they go to america

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