#very clever but the only correct answer is Wait and Cream

[nu-metal-confessions]

I want to make ice cream out of the slipknot members cum and I will call slipcum or cumknot

.

[the-atlas-sister]

Chapter Six

"So, you're from the past?" you asked Five. You two were walking along an empty road, pulling a red wagon.

"Yes," Five answered.

"How is that possible?" you questioned.

"Do you remember those kids, who had superpowers?" Fiver sighed.

"I mean I wasn't born when they were around, but, yes," you said.

"I'm one of them," Five said.

"And you can time travel?" you asked.

"As well as perform spacial jumps," Five added.

"Spacial whats?" you said, scrunching up your face.

Five smirked cockily before disappearing. You looked around, amazed by this boy's show of power. "Boo." You let out a yelp, spinning around to come face to face with a smirking Five.

"So, you can teleport!" you exclaimed, not noticing the close proximity to Five.

"I- yes," Five said.

"That's really cool," you said, grinning like a child.

"Thanks."

****

Your eyes snapped open and you let out a shaky breath as Luther stopped the car on the side of the road. After a lot of arguing, Five had finally agreed to let you go with him and Luther to execute their plan, as long as you stayed in the car.

Five unbuckled before looking around. "You know, I never enjoyed it," he sighed.

"What?" Luther asked.

"The killing," Five stated simply. "I mean, I was... I was good at my work and I... I took pride in it." He stopped to look at Luther. "But it never gave me pleasure." He sighed again. "I think it was all those years alone." You looked at him, feeling a bit hurt. Although you didn't remember any of you and Five's time together, you know you indeed were- together. He hadn't been alone. He had you. Didn't he? "Solitude can do funny things to the mind."

"Yeah, well, you were gone for such a long time," Luther said. "I only spent four years on the moon, but that was more than enough." You resisted the urge to roll your eyes at the fact that Luther was relating time on the moon, to living in the apocalypse alone. "It's the being alone that breaks you." Luther and Five sat in silence.

"Do you think they'll buy it?" you asked, motioning to the fake briefcase.

"Well, all I do know is that they're desperate," Five stated. "It's like a cop losing his gun. If the Commission finds out, they'll be in deep shit. And well, not to mention the fact that they'll be stuck here until they get it back."

"Well, I should hold onto it," Luther said.

"Hm?" Five glanced at his brother questionably.

"In case they make a move on you," Luther continued.

"Wait," you said softly. The fact that Five could get hurt dawned on you. You might not have spent a long time with the time traveler, but you couldn't help but feel connected.

"Okay, Luther, but be careful," Five said, genuine worry in his eyes. "I mean, I've... I've lived a long life, but, you're still a young man. You got your whole life ahead of you." Luther looked at him, as if, well as if a 13-year-old boy was telling him he was the young man. "Don't waste it." You let out a laugh, before covering your mouth. Five looked at you as you help back more laughter. "I'm 58, remember?" he said, grabbing your free hand.

"Look," you said suddenly, pointing to a car appearing on the horizon.

"Here we go," Five said. "Stay inside the car, remember?" He looked at you. You nodded at Five kissed your hand softly before getting out of the car. Luther followed quickly before walking into the street.

You watched as the other car pulled up to the other side of the road. "If this all goes sideways," you heard Five say to Luther, making your stomach churn. "Do me a favor and tell Y/N, I'm sorry."

You bit your lip, staring at the raven-haired boy through the window as he began to approach the two people in masks who had exited the car.

You watched them talk, although you couldn't hear from inside the car. You watched as the two threw off their masks.

You noticed Five looks at the car then back to the two. You reached for the door handle urgently as you watched the woman pull out a gun and point it at Five.

Luther placed a hand on the door and shook his head at you.

The woman lowered the gun and approached a nearby telephone booth as Five approached the car again. He leaned on the back of the car as Luther stood next to him.

"What happens now?" you heard Luther ask.

"Now we wait," Five said. You looked at them through the back window.

Then, out of nowhere, a jolly tune was heard. You looked on the horizon, only to see an ice cream truck driving your way.

"What the heck?" you asked aloud.

"Is that her?" you heard Luther ask, although you doubted it. Then, a large grin appeared on your face as you noticed Klaus, waving at you from the driver's side of the truck.

"Klaus!" you exclaimed.

"What the hell is he doing here?" you heard Five say.

Suddenly, the two people pulled out their guns and shoot at Five and Luther. You hopped out of the car and grabbed Five's hand-

Five's POV

Five poked his head out from behind a frozen Luther. He glanced at your frozen figure, your face full of terror, and your hand in his. He gently pried his hand from yours before walking around Luther.

That's when he noticed her.

"Hello, Five," the Handler said, taking off her sunglasses. "You look good, all things considered."

"It's good to see you again," Five said, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"Feels like we met, just yesterday," the Handler said. "Course, you were a bit older then." She smiled. "Congratulations. On the age regression by the way. Very clever. Threw us all off the scent."

"Ah, well, I wish I could take the credit," Five stated. "I just miscalculated the time dilation projections, and-" He looked to the side before smiling sarcastically at the Handler. "Well, you know. Here I am."

"You realize your efforts are futile," the Handler said. "So why don't you tell me what you really want?" She clasped her hands behind her back.

"I want you to put a stop to it," Five said, mimicking the woman's actions.

"You realize what you're asking for is next to impossible, even for me," the Handler said. "What's meant to be, is meant to be. That's our raison d'etre. You of all people should know that, especially after what you did to your girlfriend over there." She nodded at you.

Five pulled a gun from his pocket and pointed it at the Handler, although she seemed unfazed. "Yeah? Well, how about survival as a raison?"

"I'll just be replaced," the Handler shrugged. "I'm but a... small cog in a machine. This fantasy you've been nurturing about summoning up your family to stop the apocalypse..." She took a few steps forward "Is just that, a fantasy. I must say though-" She took a few more steps. "We're all quite impressed with your initiative, your stick-to-intivenss, really quite... quite something." The Handler held her hands behind her back once more. "Which is why we want to offer you, a new position back at the Commission. In management."

Five chuckled breathlessly. "I'm sorry, what's that now?"

"Come back to work for us again. You know it's where you belong."

"Well, it didn't work out too well the last time," Five stated.

"But you wouldn't be in the correction division any longer," the Handler perswaded. "I'm talking about... the home office. You'd have the best health and pension and an end to this ceaseless time travel." Five blinked, thinking of what it would be like. "You're a distinguished professional in... schoolboy shorts." The Handler walked closer to Five. "We have the technology to reverse the process. I mean you... you can't be happy like this." The Handler lowered Five's gun.

"I'm not looking for happy," Five said his voice hardening.

"We're all looking for happy," the Handler said, stroking Five's cheek gently. "We can make that happen. We can make you... yourself again."

Five looked at Luther and... you. "What about my family?" he questioned.

"What about them?" the Handler asked.

"I want them to survive," Five demanded.

The Handler sighed, looking at Luther, then Klaus and Diego. "All of them?"

"Yes, all of them," Five said. "And Y/N."

"Well," she pulled out her sunglasses and put them on. "I'll see what I can do. As for Y/n... she is meant to die. You know this."

Five frowned but knew she was right. He knew Y/N had to die.

"Do we have a deal?" the Handler said.

"One thing," Five said before walking to Hazel and Cha-Cha's guns. He took out the amo before throwing it and the gun into the field.

He then walked past the Handler and to you. He brushed a loose strand of hair from your face before pressing his lips to yours. He pulled away and grabbed a piece of paper and a pen from his pocket. He quickly wrote something down and placed it into your hand.

The Handler sighed. "Wait," Five said, before approaching the bullet that hung midair in the sky. He grabbed it and positioned it away from Luther. Then he grabbed the Handler's hand and disappeared.

Y/N POV

You let out a scream and ducked as the bullets hit the car.

You watched as the ice cream truck hit Hazel and Cha-Cha's car, tottling it completely.

"Five?" Luther said, making you look up.

"Five?" you said, noticing the fact that Five was gone. "Five!" You looked around, balling your fists. Then you felt something crunch.

You heard people yelling but you ignored it. You leaned on the car, opening your hand to see a folded piece of paper in your hand.

"Y/N! Get in the car!" you heard Luther yell, making you look up before you could read the note. You quickly got in the car, Luther, Klaus, and Diego joining you.

You noticed Klaus give Hazel the middle finger, making you laugh.

You then looked at the note once more. You opened it carefully before reading it to yourself.

Y/N,

I have gone to work with the Commission again. I'm sorry. I love you and I will miss you dearly. And, there is something I haven't told you. The Handler wasn't the one to kill you. I was.

-Five

Find the rest of the chapters here: https://mooskey.tumblr.com/post/662542471939735552/remember-me-five-hargreeves-x-reader

[jamilelucato]

About him [Fred Weasley]

Pairing: Fred Weasleyx reader (Slytherin but brief mention)

Summary: [y/n] and Fred have always been friends because of their similarities, but after focusing on their differences they ended up missing each other a lot.

A/N: really slow burn except for the fact that I speed it up lol (gif is very much the ice cream shop scene)

Warnings: brief mention of p*rn but it's just for a joke really; and sadness at the very end, much much sadness

harry potter masterlist!

[y/n] and Fred Weasley were classmates, and, even though they were from different houses (she was a Slytherin, he was a Gryffindor), they generally ended up in the same circles because they had a lot of friends and common and were purebloods.

They had lots of things in common, but they never really thought much of it or talked about it. Their pureblood families were seen with wicked eyes by the others because they were friendly towards muggles and muggles-borns, and curiously [y/n]'s mother worked in the same department as Fred's dad.

Fred silently understood [y/n], and she sympathized with him as well. But that was as far as their friendship went. They joked with each other and worked well together when assigned ��� except they were never alone or were clingy towards one another.

Therefore, it was no surprise (nor new) that Fred sat next to her, at the almost end of a party at Ravenclaw. Both had a drink in hand and were laughing at their friends' jokes. Suddenly, the big group divided itself into pairs that were talking together, and [y/n] saw herself in a position to make conversation with Fred.

"Where's George?" she politely asked him while sipping her cup.

He looked down at her — even sitting, it was clear he was taller.

"Honestly," his eyes were smiling, "I have no idea."

She half-smiled, half laughed, which was her usual reaction when speaking to Fred. He had a humorous way of expressing himself even when it was not funny.

"Aren't you worried?"

"With George? No," Fred chocked; with a raised brow. "He'll manage. Wherever he is."

"Probably with a girl," [y/n] said with a calm tone that surprised Fred.

He knew he and his twin had a reputation (perhaps even Dumbledore did), but he didn't expect little miss [y/n] to mention that with such naturality. He didn't know why it bothered him; was it because he hoped to preserve his image of a good boy or because it was her?

"Wait, what about you?" she asked, realizing he didn't say anything about George. "Where's your girlfriend?"

"Ex-girlfriend," corrected Fred in a huff. "We broke up last week."

[y/n] took a long while to stare at him, analyzing his features — the more she looked, the more concerned Fred got.

She didn't know about the news regarding Fred and Angelina, but she was nowhere near worried.

"Well, by the end of next week, you two will be together again," she shrugged, looking back at her drink.

"Not at all," Fred denied, moving his face.

"Come on, Fred," [y/n] lowered her hands, "you guys never last too much apart; at this point, it's almost annoying."

He stared at her, more shocked than before.

"You guys are always breaking up," she pointed out, this time with a sweeter tone, scared she was offending him.

"True," granted Fred, "but this time is for real."

"You said that last time," remembered [y/n], unable to hold her smile at the end of her sentence and making Fred smile too.

There was a pause before Fred decided to defend his point.

"I don't..." he swallowed. "Angie and I... we both know the relationship isn't going anywhere."

"Wow," [y/n] was surprised. They always talked about Fred's break-ups but never before had he said something like that. "You're serious."

Fred ignored her comment.

"George and I want to do something big, you know? And I need to be real about it, so might as well be serious about everything else."

[y/n] considered his comment. She knew it was his dream to open the joke shop. She also knew his parents were not very okay with that.

Another thing they had in common, she supposed. Her parents didn't support her dream of being an actress either. They were okay with her pursuing a career in the muggle world, but they did not want it to be acting.

"It's a good plan, you know, " she said, finally. "Just... don't lose your charm."

"Don't lose my charm, you say?" Fred smirked, getting closer to her, their legs touching each other in the small blue sofa of Ravenclaw.

"Not that charm," she said through her teeth, shoving him with her shoulder. But even when she hated him using his smirk with her, she ended up smiling. "I meant your drollery."

"Oh," he leaned back, the smirk fading. "I suppose that if Snape wasn't able to erase my joy, nothing can."

He was right, of course.

"And you, huh?" Fred asked, noticing that if he remained in silence, the conversation would die. "How's the porn acting career going?"

She pushed him again with her free hand this time, and he laughed it off. She was sure it hurt, though, because he remained to brush up and down his arm.

"I don't want to be a porn star, you creep," [y/n] hissed, but she wasn't that angry with his comment as she was leading him into thinking. "And I suppose it's going as slow as it can go when you are only sixteen and lives in your school."

"And have unsupporting parents," added Fred, tilting his head, feeling very clever with his suggestion. Until he looked at her and saw she was frozen. "Sorry, I didn't m...."

"You're right," she sighed, gulping her drink until she drank it all. Then, startling Fred, she started laughing, but it was nowhere near a desperate laugh as he expected. "Gosh, I just want to be over with school."

"Shocking enough, me too," agreed Fred, entering her cheerful mood with a smile of himself.

Two Years Later...

She avoided going to the Diagon Alley for various reasons, but the most important was to dodge encountering old classmates. But the Wizarding World was at the brink of war, and [y/n]'s mom insisted that her daughter should go out and buy everything they could need in case they had to go into hiding.

After hours of shopping, she left her parents at one of the stores and walked all by herself to the ice cream place, where she hoped to have a minute to sit down and breathe.

She was contemplating the busy streets, filled with workers and other wizards, all with the same desperate look her mom had on her face. She had noticed when Fred and George walked in the shop, but she hoped her well-placed table would be enough to hide her.

It wasn't.

"Oh, [y/n]!" shouted Fred, after taking the ice cream he chose with the attendant. He stepped in her direction, the expression in his face pure joy.

They had bumped into each other after school, but they always had other places to go and be, which left them with a chance only to say hi. But, seeing her, calmly, sitting with her ice cream, Fred thought it was the perfect chance to catch up with his long time friend.

"How are you?" he asked, smiling.

Noticing she had no escape, she pointed to the remaining empty chair at her table for him to sit and finally answered.

"Oh, you know," she shrugged. "Every day's crazier than the one before, and we never know how tomorrow is gonna be, so..." she dredged. "But I heard your shop is outstanding itself — congrats, Fred."

Fred only blushed because he didn't have time to comment on her praise since George appeared next to them, with his ice cream in his hands.

"Hi, [y/n]," he smiled, but his expression and tone were nowhere near the joy in Fred's.

"How are you, George?" she asked politely, noticing that she was braver to do small talk with George than Fred.

"Fine as one can be knowing Voldy's out there," answered the twin, his voice tone so standardized, it showed how many times had he answered that. "You do believe in his return, right?" he asked; suddenly, he remembered she used to be a Slytherin.

[y/n] pretended not to care when George suggested so easily otherwise, even though Fred, in front of her, seemed close to slapping his twin. She was used to other people's prejudice.

"Oh, I do," she said. "I'm with parents buying supplies, really but, right now, I just ran away from them."

"They're getting on your nerves?" asked Fred, quickly remembering their time in school when [y/n]'s mom used to send her letters almost every day.

[y/n] took in Fred's friendly and joking smile. She didn't realize she missed the twins. Missed Fred.

"My mom knows how to stress someone," [y/n] let out.

"Probably learned with ours," commented George, sighing playfully. Then he turned to his twin, "Fred, we gotta go; we can't leave Verity alone for too long."

Fred pressed his eyes shut with enormous force — he knew his twin was correct, but he didn't want to leave.

"Go ahead, George, I'll catch up," Fred said finally, avoiding [y/n]'s eyes, scared it would reveal that she did not want him there.

They were friends or at least used to be, and after school, they just lost touch. [y/n] pushed herself away from all her friends on purpose, and Fred didn't think he could be an exception. Besides, she spent most of her time in the muggle world, pursuing her career — which was no secret to the gossip of wizardly London that she was failing. She had yet to get any parts in any movies or plays, and the most prestigious families were saying all horrible things about her.

His own mother was one of the gossipers spreading rumours, but every time she said anything near Fred, he would jump at her, shutting her up.

"So..." she started saying and scratched her throat. "How's your family?" she asked finally. "I bet your mom doesn't complain about the joke shop anymore."

He smiled. It could be awkward between them sometimes, but it was pretty easy to fall into a comfortable flow.

"She doesn't, you're right," he laughed with his nose, pausing to take his ice cream. "And Ron is always asking us for money now."

"As he would," [y/n] smiled, remembering tenderly of the lovely Weasley family.

"And you? How's the career going?" he almost joked as he used to do, mentioning she was a porn star, but now that the rumours said she basically had no career, he was scared she had run to that option as her last resort. And who was he to judge?

"You mean acting?" she asked and puffed, playing with her ice cream. "I've given up on it not so long after I left Hogwarts."

"You're kidding."

"Nope," she sighed. "I tried, sure, 'cause I'm not that coward, but.. it was clear it wouldn't turn out to be anything. I'm always the weirdo at auditions, always saying something wrong... I thought watching tons of muggle movies would leave me as a great performer of the muggles' grimaces, but it sure didn't. Or simply just wasn't enough."

"I can't believe you quit," he said. "You craved it so much back at school."

"That's cause I didn't know what it really was like back at school," she sighed again. "They don't want me not even backstage."

"That can't be true!" Fred looked — and it probably was the first time [y/n] had seen him like that — a mix of angry and exasperation.

"Don't let it get over your head, Fred," she avoided his eyes. "I don't."

He stared at her, for a moment just the two of them and the silence.

"Besides, I'm working with my dad at his muggle bookshop," she shrugged. "You should stop by anytime. if there's someone that can make you read a book, and like it, it's my dad."

Fred still wanted to talk about [y/n]'s acting career but he understood the subject could still be sensitive to her.

"I doubt that," Fred let himself smile again.

They spent more minutes talking, picking up in all the subjects they could and then reliving old memories until Fred remembered he had to go back to work.

He got up, saying his goodbyes, while [y/n] stood there, her ice cream already eaten.

"See you, Fred," she said, her tone clear of her sadness.

Fred only took two steps before turning back at her. He pressed his hands in his pants pockets — a million feelings going to his head, most of them telling him to give up.

But he remembered how much he wanted to do that since Hogwarts, and with her, and only with her, he simply never gathered enough courage.

And that wasn't fair.

[y/n] deserved a chance with him as much as any girl. He deserved a chance with her as much as any guy.

"[y/n]," he swallowed, nervous as her eyes met his, "would you by any chance like to go out with me?"

"I'd love to!" she said, not even remembering she ever wanted to go out with him, but now feeling like that was all she ever craved.

Two Days Later...

The night had been exciting. Spending hours before a mirror, hoping for the best look had paid off, [y/n] noticed because Fred Weasley couldn't stop staring at her with big eyes.

They managed to talk a bit about everything, always having something new to add to their conversation. Even when they remained in silence, it wasn't bad. It was anxious but great.

And then he insisted on dropping her off, which only made her more nervous. She wanted to kiss him and she hoped so badly he enjoyed his night as much as she had so he would want to kiss her too.

At Hogwarts, she could not deny it, it had occurred to her kissing Fred. However, it was always when she was too drunk to manage a congruent thought or when her friends asked who of their friends she could kiss. But the fact is: they never did.

A corner of her mind wondered if she ever really did have a window with him back then, but school memories were all a blur in her mind. It seemed obvious now that she and Fred could match, but back then, not so much.

Fred was thinking the same. He liked her. He always did.

They knew each other before Hogwarts, and even if at first (she being a Slytherin and all) they were apart, their friendship rose so easily on their second year and managed to stay firm until the very end.

He remembered wanting to kiss her but it was never as bad as he wanted now, when he had her hand in his, and she was blushing simply because they were standing side to side.

And when he finally did, finally allowed his lips to touch hers — heavens — he could have died right then. It felt right. It felt good.

Fred had kissed many times before, but none felt as close to perfection as this time.

He pulled her in softly by her cheek, letting his lips simply brush against hers and she gasped, opening her mouth, desperate for more.

Then his hands were everywhere, and [y/n] was not reserved herself. She pulled forward, holding grasp of his hair, and it was unclear to determine who would let go first.

Perhaps never let go was a good solution. They both thought so.

One Year Later...

Fred Weasley lied before her, forever moveless.

She could not believe it.

She reached for his cold hands and squeezed, hoping her touch would be enough to reverse what was irreversible.

On both of her sides, there was a Weasley crying, desperate as much as her.

But the only one feeling as hollow as her, the only one that could compete as her sadness was George. No words were able to comfort.

Not right there, not at the burial ceremony, not at her empty apartment above the joke shop.

Everything reminded her of him.

They had been together for only a year, but he was her best friend before that. Somehow, when she played different scenarios in her head, she felt like she could have suffered more if they had stayed just as friends.

It was the latest memories the ones that hurt the most. She knew they were in danger when the war began, but both were not going anywhere, and Fred had hope.

Every night in hiding he would hold her against his bare chest and whisper that they were going to be okay. Sometimes he even joked she would get out of it with a movie deal about the Wizarding War.

[y/n] and George helped each other out of their worst moments, creating a friendship tighter than they had before. But, eventually, she knew that without Fred she did not belong in the joke shop building.

At Fleur's and Bill's wedding, Fred had made her promise she would try the film industry once again.

"You know," he said, whispering in her year while they slow danced, "your dad says you like to write. Perhaps you should write a script."

"Perhaps," she smiled. "But about what should the movie script be?"

"About me, of course," he joked.

How she wished he was there with her.

Walking in to deliver her first script.

About them.

About her.

About him.

[vanillacaramelhoney]

Different (9)

Pairing(s): Five Hargreeves x Reader

Summary: "Put. Her. Down."

Warnings: Uh, none??

A/N: Sorry this part took so long, I just kinda lost motivation to write for a hot second there 🥺

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Repetitive noises typically annoyed people if they weren't the ones making it, but as YN laid, curled up on Five's bed as he wrote on the walls, the clacking of chalk against it was the only thing keeping her sane.

It gave her something to focus on- to keep her from thinking about Eudora's death, or the danger Diego was putting himself in, or what would happen to her younger self.

Upon seeing the traumatized girl, most people would scold Five for working on equations rather than comfort her. But Five knew her, and he knew that she needed time to process everything first. And when she was in need of comfort, he would be there- even if that meant not worrying about the apocalypse for a moment.

So, she laid on top of Five's bed, curled into herself. Five stood in front of her, writing on the wall behind her.

The writing stopped, and YN's thoughts started.

"Okay, I think I've got something." She looked up at Five at the sound of the sudden intrusion of his voice. "It's tenuous but promising."

YN watched as Luther walked into the room, confusion already present on his face.

"What is all this?" he asked.

"It's a probability map."

"Probability of what?"

"Of whose death could save the world." Five tapped on the wall. "I've narrowed it down to four."

"Are you saying one of these four people causes the apocalypse?" Luther asked.

"Their death might prevent it," YN explained for Five, her voice dull and eyes closed.

The sound of clacking came back for a moment as Luther glanced down at the girl.

"I'm not following." YN let out a hum as Five jumped into the explanation.

"Time is fickle, Luther. The slightest alteration in events can lead to massively different outcomes in the time continuum. The butterfly effect." Luther nodded. "So, all I have to do is find the people with the greatest probability of impacting the timeline, wherever they may be, and kill them."

Five dropped off the bed to look through Vanya's book as Luther came around to the other side of the bed. He looked over the names.

"'Milton Green,'" he read. "So, who's he? A terrorist or something?"

"I believe he is a gardener." YN opened her eyes to look at Five.

"You can't be serious," Luther said. "Wait, this is madness, Five."

Whatever words were about to follow halted when Five placed a case on his bed. YN sat up in curiosity.

"Where'd you get that?"

"In Dad's room," Five answered, unzipping it. "I think he used it to shoot a rhinoceros."

He pulled it out, looking it over. "It's similar to the model I used at work. Nice shoulder fit and highly reliable."

"But you can't- this guy Milton is just an innocent man!"

"It's a little distasteful, but his death could save billions of people," YN told him. "Besides, he'd just end up dead anyway."

"We don't do this kind of thing," Luther criticized.

"We are not doing anything," Five corrected. "I am. And if YN wants to come, then she's allowed to join."

"I can't let you go and kill innocent people," Luther said. "No matter how many lives it saves."

"Well, good luck stopping me."

"You're not going anywhere."

With a shriek, YN was lifted off the bed by the back of her shirt collar. She was shoved out the window and left dangling from Luther's grip.

"Motherfucker!" she screamed, kicking in his grasp as fury filled her body.

Five was quick to spin around, aiming the gun at his brother.

"Put. Her. Down."

"Put the gun down- you're not killing anyone," Luther countered. "I know she's important to you, so don't make me do this. It's either her or the gun. You decide."

"You know, I'm pretty sure if you drop me, I'll survive," YN continued squirming, "but that doesn't mean I'm fine with this."

It was silent as the two stared back at each other, waiting for the other to move.

Using his strength, Luther tossed the girl. She let out an alarming screech.

Five dropped the rifle and jumped forward to grab onto her.

He quickly pulled her back into his room.

"I can keep doing this all day." Looking back, Luther stood with the gun in hand.

Ignoring him, Five fretted over YN, having her sit on his bed.

"I know you're still a good person, Five," Luther continued. "Otherwise, you wouldn't have risked it coming back here to save us all. But you're not on your own anymore."

Five looked up at Luther. "There is one way, but it's just about impossible."

"More impossible than what brought you back here?"

Looking back at YN, she sighed, knowing where this was going.

Pulling to the side of the road, Luther parked the car, and Five unbuckled his seat. YN sat in the back, more interested in looking out of the car windows.

With a sigh, Five spoke, "I never enjoyed it, you know."

"What?"

"The killing," he clarified. "I mean, I was good at my work, and I took pride in it, but it never gave me pleasure."

It fell silent for a while.

"You think they'll buy it?" Luther asked, laying an arm on the briefcase.

"Well, what we do know is that they're desperate. It's like a cop losing his gun. If the Commission finds out, they'll be in deep shit. Not to mention that they'll be stuck here until they get it back."

"I should hold onto it," Luther said. Five hummed in confusion. "In case they make a move on either of you."

"Okay, Luther, but be careful," said Five. "I mean, we've lived long lives, but you're still a young man. You got your whole life ahead of you. Don't waste it."

Luther stared at his brother, confused.

"There's a car coming up," YN announced.

Sure enough, a car appeared from behind a hill on the road.

"Here we go," Five said, the three climbing out of the car. They joined each other in the middle of the road, watching the car drive past.

"You sure you want to do this?" Five whispered to YN. "I can understand if you don't. You've been through a lot."

They watched as Hazel and Cha Cha exited the car, their creepy masks covering their faces.

"I don't really have a choice," YN responded.

With a sigh, Five walked forward to meet with their tailers, YN just a step behind him.

"The masks really necessary?" Five asked.

The two pulled them off and threw them aside.

"So, where is it?" Cha Cha asked.

"Wow, that's how you're gonna start," Five sassed. "You know, we can get back in our car and call it a day."

"You won't even make it halfway there," the woman said, pulling out her gun. She pointed it at Five, and Hazel raised his to YN.

"Maybe," Five said, "but as I'm sure you found out in your previous foray, my brother is not your average giant."

"He's right," Hazel said. "You dropped a chandelier on him, got right back up."

"You hurt us, and he'll destroy your precious briefcase," YN smiled.

"Probably us, too, right?" Hazel asked. "So, how do we help each other?"

"I need you to get in contact with your superior, so we can have a chat with her," Five explained. "Face-to-face."

"About what?" Cha Cha asked.

"Why do you care?" YN asked.

The woman took a deep breath. "Just don't tell her about the briefcase."

"Fair enough."

The four parted, Cha Cha and Hazel going to a payphone, and Five and YN returning to the car and Luther.

Five settled against the car, and YN sat on the hood.

"What now?"

"Now, we wait."

YN grabbed Five's hand to fiddle with while they waited. The sound of music typical to an ice cream truck had them confused.

Five grabbed YN's hand and pulled her down to his side as they looked back.

Everyone watched in confusion as it drove down the street, music echoing.

"Is that her?" Luther asked the two beside him.

YN's eyes widened in disbelief as the truck drove by.

Klaus sat in the front seat, smiling and waving out at them. In the passenger seat was Diego.

"What the hell is he doing here?"

The truck continued, Cha Cha and Hazel raising their guns to fire at it.

Luther covered Five and YN with his body, holding his arms out.

The two watched, however, as everything came to a halt.

They peered out from behind Luther.

"What the hell?" YN muttered.

Together, they walked out from behind him to take in the scene before them.

"Neat trick, isn't it?" Turning, the Handler stood there in all her unbridled glory.

She pulled back the net veil covering her face and removed her sunglasses.

"Hello, Five, YN," she greeted. "You two look good, all things considered. And I must say, I'm very sorry for your loss, dear."

She smiled at YN, who was held back by Five from doing anything.

"Good to see you again," Five said, whispering a warning back to YN.

"Feels like we met just yesterday," the woman said. "Course, you were both a little older then. Congratulations on the age regression, by the way. Very clever. Threw us all off the scent."

"Well, I wish I could take credit," Five said. "I just miscalculated the time dilation projections and, well, you know. Here we are." He briefly held out his arms.

"You realize your efforts are futile. So, why don't you tell me what you really want?"

"We want you to put a stop to this," YN told her.

"You realize what you're asking for is next to impossible, even for me," the Handler said. "What's meant to be is meant to be. That's our raison d'etre."

YN rolled her eyes, looking off to the side, and Five pulled a gun.

"Yeah? Well, how about survival as a raison?" Five gave a mocking smile.

"I'll just be replaced. I'm but a...small cog in a machine." As she stepped closer to the two, Five kept a close eye on her. "This fantasy you've been nurturing about summoning up your family to stop the apocalypse is just that- a fantasy. I must say, though, we're all quite impressed with your initiative, your stick-to-itiveness, really quite something."

YN narrowed her eyes at the flattery.

"Which is why we want to offer both of you new positions back at the Commission in management," she told them.

"Sorry, what's that now?" Five questioned.

"Come back to work for us again," she coaxed. "It's where you belong."

"The last time we were there, things weren't going that good," YN recalled.

"But you wouldn't be in the correction division any longer," the Handler corrected her. "I'm talking about the home office. You'd have the best health and pension, and an end to this ceaseless travel. You're distinguished professionals in-" she trailed off for a second as she looked down, "-matching schoolboy shorts. We have the technology to reverse the process. I mean, you can't be happy like this."

She reached over to push Five's gun down.

"We're not looking for happy," he told her.

"We're all looking for happy," she responded. "We can make that happen. We can make you yourselves again."

Five sighed, looking to the side. "What about my family?"

"What about them?"

"I want them to survive."

The Handler looked at Luther, then at the truck where Diego and Klaus resided.

"All of them?"

"Yes, all of them."

Without a word, they watched as the woman pulled out her sunglasses and put them back on. "I'll see what I can do." She held out her hand. "Do we have a deal?"

"One thing," Five said.

He nodded toward the gun lying on the road, silently telling YN to deal with it.

As she went to it, Five messed with a bullet that headed in Luther's direction.

YN unloaded the gun, throwing both parts to the sides before returning.

The Handler held her hand out again. Grabbing YN's first, Five took hers and shook it.

They were gone with a flash, everything returning to normal.

The bullet missed Luther, Cha Cha and Hazel fell to the ground, and the truck crashed into the back of the assassins' car.

Luther frantically looked around for the missing two, calling out their names in confusion.

Looking back at the assassins, he held up the briefcase.

"Come get it!" Cha Cha came running at him but turned when it was thrown to the side.

The man ran to the truck to help his siblings. They ran back to the car as fast as they could.

They quickly climbed inside, Klaus and Diego in the back, Luther getting in the driver's seat.

They were off in seconds, leaving behind the frustrated assassins.

----Taglist

@fancytravelerbird @megasimpleplan4ever @yikes-matey @we-all-are-strange @flowertoty @rasberrymay @lilacs-lavender @margotsfandoms @nibbles7192 @colie-babi @thegirlwholikestomanythings @halparkebitch @faith-quake @aesthetically-hailey

[houserosaire]

Send 💘 for Muse A to talk about Muse’s B love life (or lack of one) {>:3c can go either way kthx}

           In a storybook, Honore thought, his adopted sister might easily have been a queen. Felicienne was a very tall woman, and if that fact had ever troubled her, her grace and poise concealed it well. Her skin was a warm brown only a few shades lighter than her father’s, and like his her eyes were amber against it, a warm and brilliant gold. He could see his adopted father and brothers in her features too, the same full lips, high-boned cheeks and hawk-like nose, though in Felicienne’s face they were just a little softer. Nothing about her could have been called delicate. She was striking and majestic and Honore thought that if he had not known her so well he could have found her quite intimidating.

           She rose as he entered the parlor, flowing to her feet, but then rather spoiled the effect by smiling almost girlishly and stretching out both of her hands to him. “Honore! I had hoped you would come.”

           He couldn’t help smiling in turn, tugging her into a brief hug. “Does that mean you have enough tea and cakes for two?” He asked as she pulled back and he settled himself into the chair closest to hers.            “For you? Always.” She set about pouring the tea with all the easy grace she had learned from her mother.

           “I like that gown.”

           Another bright smile answered. “Thank you, so do I. My mother-in-law has informed me that even such a dark red is not an appropriate color for a Baroness and a mother of three, but I think I look well in it and Gratien likes it, so I suppose I will just continue to be inappropriate.”

           “It suits you.” Honore said, and didn’t clarify whether he meant the dress or the impropriety. “But why were you hoping I would come?” He asked as he took the offered cup and saucer and perched it on one of his knees.

           Felicienne leaned forward just a little, conspiratorially. “Well you see, I was hoping you could tell me…” There she paused for a moment, busying herself with stirring her tea as if it took her a moment to find the correct words. “It is about Silvaineaux. I suspect he talks to you about some things far more than he talks to me. I have heard sometimes from ladies who have spoken to him at balls, and I know he has said that he ‘Loves no Lady but the Fury.’” She looked up at him. “And perhaps such an oath had its place when he was only a knight, but surely he cannot think that the church or anyone else would expect him to hold to it now that he is a Baron. Does he?”

           Honore took it in his own turn to busy himself with his tea, adding sugar and cream like the exact proportions mattered terribly as he tried to divine just what Felicienne was asking him and how much it was right to say. “You know he takes all his promises very seriously…” He offered at last rather vaguely.            “I do. But things change and…it’s not really about the title, I just think he might be so happy if he could find someone to… He needn’t be celibate.”

           Honore cleared his throat, and then took a swallow of his tea. “I think he’s not lonely. Or celibate.” He murmured.      

Felicienne pounced on the words as if she’d been waiting for them. “So there is someone! And you have known it all along and not told me, that is wicked of you, Honore. What is she like?”

           “I…” He swallowed and for one of the first times in his life wished he had not come to see his sister after all. “Well… how did you know?” He asked.

           “The jewelry. One of the jewelers asked me how I had liked the set of ear clasps he had made for me, and I have never received any of the sort. And just recently one of them mentioned something about resizing a ring?”

           “I told him he wasn’t going to fool anyone forever.” Honore said.

           “Of course not. I’m frightfully clever. But you still haven’t told me what she’s like? Why is he keeping it such a secret? He does plan to do the honorable thing doesn’t he? Is she terribly inappropriate?”

           Honore stared into his teacup feeling rather caught between his brother’s secrets and his sister’s curiosity. “It’s not really my place to…”

           “Come, we both know he isn’t going to tell me until the very last possible moment, if then, and if it’s… awkward I will handle it much better at the time with just a bit of warning.”

           Honore sighed, and looked skyward though he certainly could not pray to the Fury for help with this. “Silvaineaux’s words are the truth.” He said quietly. “They always have been. It’s not an oath. He does not love any Lady but the Fury.” He paused and watched Felicienne’s face and hoped she would be clever enough he wasn’t going to have to spell it out.

           “He… but you said there was someone. But…” There she paused and abruptly set her cup back into its saucer. “No Lady… Oh.” For a moment she simply sat there, fingers delicately holding the cup, eyes just a bit distant. “I see. Has he always? But of course, I suppose that isn’t just something one wakes up one morning and decides, is it?”

           Honore shook his head. “It isn’t.”

           Felicienne nodded slowly. “But there is someone?”

           “There is.”

           “Have you met… him, then?”

           “I have.” Honore said. “Once at least.”

           “And what is he like? Really Honore you needn’t make me pry every little detail from you.”

           “He is gentle and kind.” Honore said. “And I think he makes Silvaineaux very happy. That is what is important isn’t it?” He peered at her anxiously.

           Felicienne sighed but then smiled at him. “Of course it’s what’s important. Were you really afraid I was going to be beastly about it?”

           Honore shook his head. “I don’t think you could be beastly, Feli.”

           Felicienne laughed and the last bit of tension in Honore’s chest eased with the sound of it. “I most certainly can if I desire to! But I would not over something like this. Make sure if you can, that he knows that, won’t you?”

           “I will.” ((You get Honore discussing Silvaineaux’s love life with bonus Felicienne. Thank you for the ask and for everybody’s patience as I slowly shake rust off and try to write things again.)) @bookbornexiv for very vague mentions.

[kaibutsushidousha]

Cat, Ghost, and Revolution Sunday (Sagrada Reset 1) - Chapter 1: Starting on Sunday (part 2)

[INDEX]

Upon hearing the sound of the opening door, Asai Kei checked the café's clock. 9:55. Exactly 5 minutes before the agreed time.

Kei stood up, looking at the entrance. Haruki also stood up from the seat next to his. A girl with red glasses entered through the door.

She looked around the café with a serious expression and walked toward Kei.

"Hello. Are you Murase?"

She raised her eyebrow a little in response to the question but quickly nodded.

(Her expression is stiff. Not sure if she's wary of us or just nervous. I should soften up my smile.)

"Nice to meet you. My name is Asai Kei. And she is Haruki Misora."

After hearing that, the girl, Murase Youka, tried to smile. Her expression didn't get any less stiff, but at least she managed to lift the corners of her lips. On the other hand, her eyes were glaring intensely from behind the lenses. Kei paused for a second to think about the meaning of her gaze but decided he shouldn't be getting attached to first impressions. He focused on his own smile.

She spoke, intentionally trying to contain her voice.

"Hello. My name is Murase Youka. Tsushima told me a lot about you two."

Tsushima Shintarou was a teacher in Kei's school, Ashiharabashi High School. He was also a member of the Management Bureau. Every school in the city had a teacher like him. Just like how every school has a teacher licensed to operate the infirmary. They need to be prepared since ability-related incidents can happen in schools.

Kei and Haruki went to meet Murase by Tsushima's orders. However, all he told them about her was her name and age. He clearly remembered that she is one year older than them. From that, he could assume she was a high schooler, but he had no idea which school she attended.

Murase whispered fast.

"Sorry, I'm not used to this kind of thing."

Kei responded with a smile.

"Neither we are, honestly."

It's very rare for them to learn about their tasks from anyone other than Tsushima.

"Let's sit down before we talk", said Kei. He had stood up without much thought because he felt it would be in bad taste to greet someone from his chair, but he didn't know when was the best time to sit down again.

The waiter came to take their orders and Murase just uttered the word "coffee". Kei added ice cream to his order.

After the waiter left, Murase spoke in a quiet voice.

"Asai, you're a high schooler, right?"

"Yes. I'm a freshman."

"Why are you working for the Bureau?"

Kei reacted to the question with an ambiguous smile.

"Because I'm part of a club dedicated to helping their operations."

"The Service Club."

"Yes."

The Ashiharabashi High School Service Club. Every school in Sakurada has a Service Club and they are all supervised by the teacher from the Bureau.

The Bureau monitors people with special abilities. Technically, every ability is special, but the Bureau's tight surveillance is dedicated especially to the potentially dangerous abilities.

Joining a Service Club was one way to soften that surveillance, even if not by much. The teacher responsible for it gives them jobs according to their abilities and demands detailed reports of how they handled their missions. By filling a report form, the club members would be exempt from a few necessary steps of the regular management, gaining a certain degree of freedom.

"Not the nicest name, don't you agree?", said Murase.

"What name?"

"Service Club, what else?"

"Oh, of course. I'm quite fond of it, actually."

Kei's answer cut the conversation short. Murase didn't know what to say next. After a while, Kei asked:

"Could you explain what's happening? What do you want us to do?"

"He didn't explain anything?"

Her voice was strong, with small hints of annoyance. "Tsushima didn't tell you anything about my request?", she corrected herself in a much calmer tone.

(She's not very used to talking to strangers, isn't she?)

He had received a very simple explanation about his task.

"He told us we'll search for a lost cat. But that felt a bit off since he should have people better equipped to handle this job."

"He said you two were experts in finding things."

(Only if you lost it recently, I guess.)

"When did your cat disappear?"

"About one week ago."

(That's too late. What a shame, this would have gone without a hitch if you had lost it precisely 3 days ago.)

Murase softly closed her eyes and continued with a dark expression.

"But I'm not exactly looking for the cat. I found it last morning. I found it on a neighboring roadside."

"Then what are we supposed to do?"

"When I found the cat, it was already cold."

(I don't like the way she worded this. "Already cold.")

"Was it a car accident?"

"Yes."

Kei got the gist of his mission. He also understood why Tsushima phrased it as a "search for a cat".

He moved his eyes back to Murase, seeing she was also looking at him. The same glare as always. He noticed her eyes had been like this ever since she sat down. Her overall face changed to express her emotions, but her eyes were fixed, always facing forward. Never lowered, never raised. Those were eyes that could never find a rainbow.

Murase spoke in a firm tone.

"I hired you to revive a dead cat."

That was a very difficult request. As far as Kei could tell, no one in Sakurada had the ability to revive the dead, be it a human or a cat. That said, it's still true that Kei and Haruki were a good pick for this job.

"Got it."

"Can you do it?"

"Revive it? No. But we can undo his its death."

"Really?"

Murase didn't smile. She didn't look relieved. Kei confirmed her pressing glare was still daring him to do it.

Kei answered her question with another question.

"Why do you want to save the cat?"

"I just want my cat back. Is there any problem with that?"

"No, that's a perfectly valid reason."

He never planned to reject Tsushima's request.

He turned to Haruki, who was sitting next to him. She was playing with the black cat keychain attached to her phone, showing no signs of interest in Murase's story. It was always like this. Kei was in charge of all the conversations.

He held back on this urge to sigh. He turned back to Murase and tried his best to look serious.

"Do you have the resolve to kill three days worth of the world for this cat?"

There's no point in asking this question. Kei only did it to feel clever. After all, she would lose her memories of this conversation very soon.

Murase raised her eyebrow.

"What do you mean by that?"

"Today, yesterday, and the day before might be undone to save your cat. Do you have the resolve to force every person in the world to redo the past three days one more time?"

Murase paused to think for a while. The waiter brought the coffee and the ice cream while she did.

After waiting for the waiter to walk away, Murase gave a short answer.

"I do."

Kei ate a spoonful of ice cream.

"Then please tells us about your cat."

She told the cat was originally a street cat, until Murase Youka adopted it about half a year ago. It was a kitten at the time, but it quickly grew up. It was a crossbreed male. Its name was Calico.

Murase had a photo of the cat on her phone. Kei asked for her contact information so she could send him the photo. A soot gray cat with a crooked tail was eating under the shade of a street lamp. The cat didn't look too amiable, but Kei thought that only made it cuter. He died yesterday, ran over by a car in a commercial district. She found its body around 9:15 in front of a bakery.

After giving all the basic information, she thanked them in advance and stood up. She walked away, leaving behind the hot coffee cup she only touched once.

"What are we going to do?", asked Haruki.

Kei answered while trying to get a spoon of his mostly melted ice cream.

"We'll save the cat, of course. It's an official job, and I like cats, too. I can't find any reason to refuse."

If everything went right, the cat would be brought back to life, the girl who only looked forward would be happy, and the Ashiharabashi High Service Club's reputation would improve, potentially leading to a rise in their budget. A Service Club's budget was close to a part-time salary. They could use it for pretty much anything they wanted, as long as they remembered to get a receipt.

Haruki waited for him to finish enjoying his ice cream before she talked.

"But didn't this request feel any strange to you?"

"What part of it was weird?"

"First off, the goal of the mission. The Bureau wouldn't get involved unless the cat was killed by an ability, would they?"

"You're completely right."

The Management Bureau acts exclusively on problems caused by abilities. Things would easily get out of hand if they got involved in every problem that ever happened.

"Second, the request happened too soon after the accident."

"Yeah. I agree."

It was still mid-afternoon of the previous day when Tsushima gave them the order to meet Murase. According to her, the accident happened on the same day's morning. That would mean she contacted the Bureau, got her case approved, and transferred to Tsushima in merely a couple of hours. This was unnaturally fast.

"And considering this, what are we going to do?", Haruki asked again.

"We'll save the cat, of course.", Kei answered again. He didn't repeat his reasons why.

(This might not be an official job. It's quite possible that Murase simply asked Tsushima for help without even trying to contact the Bureau. If she's a student in Ashiharabashi, it'd make sense for her to know Tsushima. It's not like I know the names of every student there. If that was a private request to Tsushima, the inconsistencies Haruki pointed out start making sense. The timing sounds reasonable assuming the Bureau was never involved. Honestly, this whole story has many more curious points to it. That said, no one can know everything about something before trying it. Besides, I really like this job. "Save a cat's life". Really nice stuff there.)

Haruki gave a quick nod. It was a movement without emotion. And then, she said:

"Then, let's go to the festival tonight."

Suddenly changing topics used to be one of Kei's bad habits, but now it fully belongs to Haruki.

"What festival?"

(It is festival season, now that I think about it. We have festivals almost all over July, and then summer vacations start. That's how summer goes in Sakurada.)

"Sure. I'm free tonight, I think."

(That should be all for today, regarding this job. The complicated day will be yesterday, when the cat will die.)

Haruki had an innocent smile.

"Then let's hurry and save the cat."

"No, we need information first."

(The time limit is last morning. The cat will already have suffered the accident by 9:15. From my point of view, this moment will come in two days from today. I want to find him before that happens.)

Haruki tilted her head.

"We're asking Sakuin?"

"No, let's go with Unknown Caller today. The case might blow out of proportion if we rely on Sakuin."

After swallowing the last bit of ice cream, Kei stood up.

[meta-squash]

Brick Club 1.3.8 “Death Of A Horse”

Lots of reference research and then Angry Feelings About Tholomyes in this one.

The facade is starting to crumble. Tholomyes has just kissed Favourite instead of Fantine. He’s drunk and even his friends want him to shut up. And now Zephine is complaining that she likes the food at Edon’s better than Bombarda’s.

Blacheville points out the mirrors on the walls, and there’s some wordplay there with Favourite re: “glace” for looking glass and ice creams. This also sounds like Favourite deliberately defying Tholomyes’ earlier rant about not eating sugar.

Tholomyes has a weird moment, he seems maybe about to get maudlin. “Silver is more precious than bone,” says Blacheville, to which Tholomyes replies “Except when it’s on the chin.” I may be reading this wrong, or backwards, but this sounds like a brief insecurity about aging. (Also I imagine the fact that he’s staring out at the dome of the Invalides is significant, but I don’t know why.)

“A discussion is good, a quarrel is better” is really just an excellent summary of what kind of “devil’s advocate” type douchebag Tholomyes is. (It’s also interesting that at no point does he “discuss,” “debate,” or “quarrel” with any of them. He has the floor and he monologues, there’s never any real back and forth with him.)

Tholomyes is pretty drunk at this point, so I’m really not sure if this following dialogue is him being mocking or him fully dismissing philosophy altogether in favor of theatre. I’m inclined to assume it’s the second, considering his earlier comments about preferring theatre. Descartes and Spinoza are, obviously, philosophers, but Desaugiers was a composer of operas and comedies, as well as the manager of the Vaudeville from 1815 until 1820. Either way, Tholomyes is pretty blatantly saying here that he doesn’t much care for philosophy.

He’s kind of the anti-Amis here, professing essentially that he doesn’t like Serious Thinking and would rather be entertained by theatre or by grisettes than think about anything substantial. His improvising is mostly empty, crappy advice where he criticizes women and gives bad dating opinions (compare with Grantaire’s improv which is mostly good social/political critique with dashes of obnoxiousness). His “wisdom” is comprised of the 19th century version of sexist pricks saying a bunch of stupid shit and then wondering why women don’t like “nice guys like him.”

More going on about contradictions, only this time seriously, rather than in the form of punnery. Life is about contradictions and irrationality, according to Tholomyes. He’s trying to be all science-y, but then he just goes back to talking about food. He goes on about how the wine they’re drinking is from a higher altitude, but it’s cheap. (Interesting that so far all of his improvised speeches have either been about women or food/drink.)

Fameuil gets a little barb in, though. He asks Tholomyes who his favorite writer is. Arnaud Berquin (which is Fameuil’s guess) was a French children’s author in the mid to late 1700s, so basically Fameuil is calling Tholomyes childish and maybe a little stupid. Berchoux (Tholomyes’ answer) was a comedic poet who invented the word “gastronomy.”

Everything with Tholomyes comes back to the sensual pleasures. Food and sex and theatre and gratification without having to actually reciprocate. This is drastically different from nearly every other character that we see. Most of them are incredibly poor and have barely any access to things necessary for survival, much less pleasure. Or, like Valjean or Javert, deny themselves sensual pleasures for various reasons. (Valjean out of piety and guilt, Javert for control, except for his little pinch of tobacco.) Tholomyes just cares about his own pleasure (but not his own personal wellbeing, considering Hugo says he’s “in poor shape” and basically physically gross) and whatever manipulation or money or schmoozing it takes to get it.

And a sudden barrage of references! Thargelia was a famous ancient Greek courtesan/hetaera who was very powerful and full of wit and had connections to Persian royalty. Hugo seems to have masculinized the name and imagined what that version would be like. I cannot find anything on Munophis of Elephanta; I’m guessing Hugo has butchered the spelling enough that whatever it is has become impossible to figure out, or he was talking out his ass. Apuleius wrote Metamorphosis, which had a lot of commentary on cultural/social life of the time; also Apuleius was part of the Dionysian cult. He quotes Solomon in Ecclesiastes (there is nothing new under the sun) and then pronounces that love is the same (quoting Virgil), there is nothing new there, either. From what I can understand by skimming that section in Georgics, that part of Virgil is about animal husbandry and is specifically talking about horny animals and how they’re going to want to mate no matter what. He’s basically saying that all men are horny and that‘s not going to change, and that they’re going to care more about sex than romance and always have. As far as I can tell, “carabine/carabin” is referencing a sex worker who caters to “carabin” aka medical students, although I’m not sure why the barge at Saint Cloud? Aspasia was the lover of Pericles; some sources depict her as a prostitute. She was foreign, so she actually had more rights than native Greek women, and she was very beautiful and very smart and witty.

Basically, Tholomyes is being a slimy bastard and saying men don’t want romance and women are there to keep men entertained and their dicks wet, and if they’re smart/witty as well as a good lay, that’s even better (perhaps a backhanded compliment for Favourite here? Since she’s supposed to be the “clever one”). Asshole. God, I hate him.

I know most people seem to say that Thenardier is the worst character in the Brick, the closest to a “bad guy” you can get in this book, but I think it’s actually Tholomyes. Thenardier, throughout the book, is awful, but most of his horrible actions are at least primarily fueled by desperation and a complete lack of access to, well, anything. Tholomyes, on the other hand, is the opposite of socially or financially desperate. He’s a rich, charismatic law student who thinks he’s hot shit. He manipulates and uses a girl 11 years younger than him, gets her pregnant, cheats on her, mocks her in front of his friends as well as her own friends (or the girls she thinks are her friends), never corrects her about the nature of their relationship, and then abandons her completely in a cruel prank. And if we’re interpreting this whole monologue right, it’s all for his own amusement. What a horrible, awful man.

The death of this poor weak horse feels like a foreshadowing, or at the very least a metaphor for the plight of poor women. Made to work hard, sacrifice themselves, starved, tired, and even when they’ve fallen either morally or literally, they’re blamed rather than helped, and then they die because no one ever tries to help them.

Tholomyes riffs on Francois de Malherbe in reaction to the death of the old horse. The Malherbe quote is from a letter of condolence to a colleague on the death of his daughter and says “But she bloomed on earth, where the most beautiful things have the saddest destiny; / And Rose, she lived as live the roses, for the space of a morning.” Tholomyes’ riff is (as best as I can do with google translate) “She was of this world where cuckoos [or cuckoo clocks?] and carriages have the same fate / And, nag, she lived as live the nags, in the space of a morning.”

Fantine gets her first spoken line here, sympathizing with the horse. Which, if this is foreshadowing as well as general commentary, is just so sad. Also, the fact that everyone else brushes off the horse’s death is interesting. If it is a metaphor, so is this brushing off. The grisettes are highly aware of their precarious position in life. One bad thing can send it all crashing down; but they expect it. They don’t sympathize or feel bad about it because they’ve seen it happen around them, they know it’ll happen to them one day too.

Favourite is the one who remembers the surprise. She’s been the only one of the girls actually talking about it. She’s the one who gets the dialogue asking for it and the one that keeps reminding the men about it. I don’t think she’s in cahoots with them about it or anything, but I wonder what she thinks is going on.

Also interesting that the “moment” that is suddenly right for this surprise has just been preceded by a downturn in mood at the shock of the dead horse. This horse has just dropped, and now the girls are waiting for yet another crushing emotional blow.

The fact that Tholomyes derails the kiss to a kiss on the forehead is definitely him trying to distance himself from Fantine. A kiss on the mouth would perhaps make her think he has feelings for her, that there’s any emotion involved in this at all. Plus he’s been cheating on her with Favourite. A kiss on the forehead is distant enough that it’s more emotionally “safe” for all of them, but especially Tholomyes, who really just wants out of this whole situation because he really doesn’t want to deal with a girl having feelings for him (or his child!) or pretty much anything that doesn’t have to do with his own pleasure. He’s just so manipulative and sleazy, I hate him.

The difference between Favourite’s reaction as they walk out the door and Fantine’s reaction is interesting to me because it seems to confirm just how oblivious Fantine really is. It’s not like she’s judging the others and thinks she’s in a Real Relationship, which is not like what the other girls have. She’s definitely not even remotely aware of the emotional status quo that everyone else recognizes. Favourite thinks it’s all good fun and games. Fantine seems to genuinely think that everyone else feels the same as she does about their affairs with the students. She seems to assume that she’s not the only one who’s in love. All the more shock for her in the next chapter, when the other girls are laughing and she’s devastated.

This whole thing is made all the worse with the fact that every single person involved in this affair is extremely aware of the difference between Fantine and everyone else. They talk about it to each other, and even to Fantine, who doesn’t seem to notice or get it. They probably giggle about her behind her back the entire time. They all know she’s in love with Tholomyes, and I assume they all know she also has a kid. They are perfectly aware of the difference between her and them. Which means all of the men are perfectly aware of how she’ll probably react to the “surprise” and what it might do to her socially. They don’t give a shit. They obviously think she’s a space case and a child and probably think she’s “no fun” compared to the other grisettes. So it doesn’t matter to them what happens to her; it doesn’t even matter to the other grisettes what happens to her, because they’re laughing at her too.

[lu-undy]

So. I'm a big animal lover, and uhh. Prehaps you could write a story of Lucien and Mick visiting the zoo? And spy is obsessed with the big cats- Anyway. Your writing is a treat to read and I hope you have a good day and or night!

Thank you so much for the kind words!! :D Here it is, Mundy takes Lu’ to the zoo, I hope you’ll enjoy it!

"Where are you taking me, mon chaton?"

[My kitten] 

"To see yourself."

Lucien raised a curious eyebrow. Both Mundy and him were in the van, racing through the desert. They were far from the base now and they could see the city. 

"To see myself?" Lucien repeated. 

"Yeah, to see you like I do."

"You spend too much time with me, Mundy." 

Mundy's eyes went to Lucien for a second. 

"What?"

"You start to sound as mysterious as me." Lucien answered with a smile. 

"Well, I learnt from the best, eh?" 

"Flatterer." 

"Yeah, because you like it." Mundy put his hand on Lucien's thigh and brushed it. If he had been able to, Lucien would have purred. "We aren't too far from it. Should be next turn. Ah! There it is!"

Lucien squinted behind his sunglasses to see better. 

"The zoo?! You are taking me to see myself in a zoo?!" He exclaimed. 

"Why d'you make it sound so bad?" Mundy asked as he parked the van. "You'll see what I mean when we get in. Come along!"

Seatbelts clicked open and the van's doors slammed shut. A few moments later, they were in the zoo under the setting sun of the end of the afternoon.

"So, any animals you wanna see in particular?" 

"Mundy, either I'm blind you literally didn't pay to get in here." Lucien answered. 

"You're not blind, but that doesn't answer my question." 

Lucien stopped walking. 

"Why are we here?" Lucien asked. 

"Because you and I like animals."

"That is not the point. Why did you bring me here? And look around you… There is no one but the people who work here."

Mundy took a deep breath. 

"I wanted to surprise you, you mongrel. I know you like animals but you don't like it when it's crowded with people so I thought I'd take you after their closure time. I only had to make a few phonecalls and that was it." 

Lucien's jaw dropped. 

"How the hell did you manage that?"

Mundy took Lucien's hand and started walking. 

"You have your secrets, I have mine, Spook." 

"Please, Mundy, tell me."  

"Well… I have a bit of a reputation, see?"

"Do you? As a zookeeper?"

"Nah, as a hunter. But not one that goes only after beasts. I also did put an end to a lot of poachin' back in Australia. I was so good I also got paid to do some work here in America. This zoo had a few of their species stolen a few months ago. I helped track the poachers down and one morning they found them and the stolen animals at the front gate… Ice cream?"

They were passing in front of a stand. 

"Why not." 

Mundy paid for them and a bag of popcorn and they continued their chat, walking through the alleys where they could see the animals that usually lived in the savannah. 

"In the end," Mundy resumed his story, "I have free tickets here and I only had to ask to have them close a bit later, just to take you in and have a look."

Lucien leaned his head on Mundy's shoulder. 

"That is quite the story, mon chaton."

[My kitten]

"Yeah well, you're not the only one who knows a few people around, eh?" Mundy winked and Lucien melted. 

"I can see that, indeed."

They climbed some stairs and stopped in front of the giraffe's enclosure. They were at the giraffe's height.

"Wanna feed them?"

"We can?" 

"Why d'you think I got the popcorn? Oi! Gorgeous! C'mere, you!"

The giraffes with their slow gaits took a minute to come and Mundy fed them the popcorn he had bought. 

"They eat popcorn?!"

"They like it as much as you like your rotten grapes, love."

"For the thousandth time, it is wine, Mundy, not just rotten grapes!"

"Can't see a bloody difference." Mundy teased and Lucien rolled his eyes with a smile. "Remove your gloves and give me your hand." 

Lucien did as he was told. Mundy positioned his hand flat, palm up, and put a few popcorn there. A giraffe turned its head and ate them out of the Lucien's very hand. 

"Mon Dieu! What a strange sensation!"

[My God!]

"It's only like a tickle."

"Oui, indeed! I had no idea they could be that delicate, and look at their tongues, they're very long!"

"I won't comment on that…" Mundy said chuckling and Lucien blushed. 

"Very clever, Bushman…"

"Oh come on… Right, you beauties, you've had enough, you can go back to sleep. Nah, nah, don't look at me with your big eyes like that, I won't change my mind…!" Mundy patted them gently. "G'night, pretty girl." 

Lucien tilted his head and smiled as the giraffes turned and headed away.

"You seem to know your way with giraffes better than with human females." 

"They're much easier to talk to."

"Because they don't speak back?" Lucien asked. 

"Nah, because they know what they want and they make it very clear." 

"Ah, you do have a point, mon chaton."

[My kitten]

They walked down the metallic stairs again and resumed their visit. 

"Mundy?" 

"Yeah?" 

"Do you mind if we have a look at the felines?" 

"You like big cats?" 

"Oui. They are my favourite." 

"Lucky day for you then." Mundy took his hand and headed to the feline corner. 

"Why?"

"I'm told they recently got panther cubs."

"Really?" Lucien opened wide eyes.

"Yeah, unfortunately, their mum didn't make it. After she gave birth, she had a hard time healin' back up and they realised too late that she had some kind of problem that they couldn't solve." 

"Oh…" Lucien's distress was visible. 

"Yeah, they're waiting for a female panther to come any day now to replace her. Meanwhile, the zookeepers play mum." 

"Ah, I see." 

"Also, here we are, felines!"

"These are lions." Lucien let go of Mundy's hand and stuck himself to the window. "Look at them… They are gorgeous…" 

"Yeah, impressive, eh?" 

"Very much so." Lucien said, his eyes darting everywhere to every little detail. "They are majestic. There is something about their calm… It's both soothing and absolutely nerve-wrecking. I love that kind of tension." 

Mundy came behind his lover and wrapped his arms around his waist, resting his jaw on Lucien's shoulder. 

"I know you do, love. Look at him, surrounded by sheilas, like you." 

"A couple of decades ago, oui." 

Both smiled, Lucien in nostalgia, Mundy, simply because he had the reason his heart was beating for in his arms. 

"Let us proceed." 

"Right." 

Lucien took Mundy's hand and walked further. 

"Those are… What do you call them in English, mon chaton?"

[My kitten]

"Cheetahs."

"Ah, thank you, we call them 'guépards'. Cheetahs. They are beautiful. Look how slim they are… I like their spotted fur, it's quite remarkable. And long at the length of their tails!"

Lucien looked at Mundy who was quite silent and saw his eyebrows jump at the remark about the cheetah's long tails. 

"Don't even think about it!" Lucien said. 

"I didn't think about anything, darl'!"

"Yes, you did. I saw it in your eyes. What a dirty mind you have." 

"As if you didn't like my dirty mind…" Mundy laced his arms around Lucien. 

"Hmm… You are correct, I like it more than I should." 

They exchanged a quick kiss. 

"But yeah," Mundy continued. "They're slim and have a long tail to be able to run fast and make sudden turns. Their tails act as a counterweight that helps them turn." 

"Oh, I see…"

"They're also extremely fragile psychologically. It's quite usual that when a zoo gets baby cheetahs, they raise them with puppies."

"Dogs?" 

"Yeah, baby dogs." 

"Why?" Lucien asked as he leaned on Mundy better. 

"Because the cheetahs get scared for nothing, they're very anxious creatures. Having a puppy helps their nerves, like it does for us." 

"I'd prefer a kitten." Lucien said. 

"I know, the kind of kitten that's taller than you, eh?" Mundy said, meaning his own self.

"Oui." Lucien smiled. "The tall and sexy kind of kitten."

Mundy chuckled and kissed him on his clean-shaven cheek. He breathed in Lucien's expensive perfume and closed his eyes. 

"M-Mundy, there are people around, they could see us." Lucien said as he felt his lover's lips weren't going away from his neck.

"Your fault… You shouldn't smell that good… And you shouldn't be that well shaved, you're so soft…" 

Lucien giggled as Mundy's stubble was tickling him in his neck, he tried wiggling to free himself from Mundy's arms but to no avail. 

"Mundy! Stop it…!"

"Nah…"

"Alright, fine, what if I kiss you, would you stop then?"

Mundy stopped with the nibbling and emerged from Lucien's neck. 

"If you make it worth it…" He cheekily answered. 

"If I make it - Mundy, tell me one time one of my kisses disappointed you!"

"Well, not yet, but it could be today. It'd be a shame, you'd fail yer kiss and I'd have no choice but to continue doing what I'm doing, eh?" 

"Oh, shut up and come here…" 

Lucien spun around to face Mundy and pushed himself to the tip of his toes before meeting his lips. 

The cheetahs gathered on the other side of the window. They laid down and blinked in the dark, the only light coming to them was one from the near lamp posts. 

"I love you." Lucien said when their lips parted. 

"Yeah, well, I'm crazy about you, love." 

Lucien smiled and took his lover's hand. 

"Let's go to the next enclosure." 

They walked for a minute or so and found themselves in front of a much wider enclosure. 

"What animal is there?" Mundy asked. 

"Sshh… Mon amour, look!"

[My love]

Lucien pointed to the right and Mundy saw a tiger walk, slowly, heavily, his paws dilating as they touched the ground with a thud that split the grass beneath it.

"He is… gorgeous." 

"It's a she, mate." 

"Oh, my apologies, Madame. She is beautiful!" 

[Madam]

The tiger raised her eyes to both of them and Lucien took a step back, impressed by her sharp eyes. He bumped on Mundy's chest. 

"Oh, you alright?" 

"O-oui." 

"You're scared of her?" 

"N-non, I mean, I know there is this window between us but still. Look at her muscles as she lies down. She is truly remarkable." 

Lucien crouched down to watch her better. 

"Oh, she is cleaning herself now. You barely need to, Madame, you look ravishing. Your stripes are beautiful, you are absolutely stunning…"

Mundy found it touching. Lucien was speaking to the tiger as if she would hear and understand him. 

"Oh, she's going back home? Goodbye Madame, and thank you for honouring us with your presence."

Lucien bowed and the tiger went away. 

"Lu'?"

"Oui?"

"I want to show you something, you wanna follow me?" 

Lucien took Mundy's hand again. 

"Of course, you lead the way." 

Lucien followed his lover who looked like he knew the place very well. They arrived in front of a small gate that read "Staff only". He pushed it and entered. 

"Are we sure we can?" 

"Yeah." 

They soon entered a shed. 

"Hey, Mundy!" Two zookeepers were inside. They seemed to have been waiting for him. 

"Hey there! This is Lucien, my second half." 

Lucien blushed beyond his ears. 

"Hello, Lucien, welcome here!" 

Hands were shaken. 

"Th-thank you very much although… I'm not sure I know where I am?"

"Didn't you tell him?" One of the zookeepers asked Mundy. 

"Nah, he doesn't know." 

"Ah, ok. In any case, you know what to do, right?" 

"Yeah." Mundy answered. 

"Here's the walkie-talkie. Call us if you need. We won't be far." 

"Cheers, mates." 

The zookeepers exited the shed, leaving Lucien and Mundy alone. 

"Look, love. Uhm, open that door." 

"This one?" 

"Yeah." 

"Fine." 

Lucien put his hand on the handle and opened. 

"Get inside, I'm right behind you, and I need to shut the door." 

Lucien did as he was told. The room was poorly lit. Mundy flipped a switch and-

"Mon Dieu!"

[My God!]

Two black panther cubs mewled and trotted to Lucien's feet. He dropped to his knees. 

"Oh! Look at them! They are gorgeous! Pauvres bébés!"

[Poor babies!]

Mundy smiled and bent down to his knees too. He took one of the cubs in his hands. 

"Can we touch them?" 

"Of course!" 

"This is better than Christmas!" Lucien removed his gloves and let his fingers run through their fur. "They are incredibly soft!"

"Yeah, they are… There's uh, two females and one male." 

"They're all adorable, listen to their mewls…! I'm sorry their mother isn't here for them…"

"Uh, Lu'?"

Lucien heard the change of tone in Mundy's voice.

"Oui?" 

"When the zoo paid me for bringin' their parrots back, yeah it was parrots that got stolen, uhm… I refused the money."

Lucien looked at his lover and frowned. 

"Why?" 

"I gave it back to take care of these cubs while they're waiting for a foster mum."

"Oh… That's adorable of you." Lucien smiled sweetly. 

"Yeah, well. Imagine if you were a baby left alone…"

"You have a very kind heart, mon chaton."

[My kitten]

"Thanks, love. But that's not the whole story. D'you remember what I told you earlier?" 

"About what?" 

"When you asked me where I was taking you." 

Lucien recalled…

"Hm… You said you were taking me to see myself." Lucien answered. 

"Yeah. The zoo let me choose the name for the cubs and uh… Well… The male, the one you have in your hands, look at his eyes." 

Lucien did as he was told. 

"He has very fair blue eyes." 

"Yeah, like who?" Mundy asked and Lucien's eyes snapped wide.

"Non, you didn't…! Did you?!"

"Did I what?" Mundy asked with a smirk. 

"Did you name him… Lucien?" Lucien asked. 

Mundy nodded. 

"Well, he's a precious little panther with gorgeous eyes, like you. So I said to the zoo that he should be called Lu'. That's what I meant when I said I was takin' you to see yourself, or how I see you, at least."

"You see me like him?" Lucien asked.

"Yeah," Mundy wrapped his arms around his lover and hugged him. "You've got the most gorgeous eyes I've ever seen. You're deadly for your enemies but for me, you're just a ball of…"

"Of?"

"Repressed romance hidden behind a mask of…"

"Of?" Lucien asked. 

"Of arrogance or something!"

Both chuckled.

"Thank you, mon chaton."

[My kitten]

They exchanged a quick kiss. 

"Nah, now you're the kitten." Mundy tapped on the tip of Lucien's nose playfully.

The cubs were still mewling in their laps. 

"So that's why you've been so insistent that we should go out sometime, hm?" Lucien asked. 

"Yeah… I thought it'd be a nice surprise… You're the one who usually does that kind of stuff to me. I thought I could repay the favour." 

"You have nothing to repay, mon amour." 

[My love.]

Lucien slid a hand up Mundy's cheek as he pushed himself to meet his lips. He stayed there, feeling a strong hand on his lower back, pulling him up close. 

They eventually broke the kiss. 

"We should get back home…" Mundy said. 

"Oui, I guess the zoo needs to close at some point."

"... Mon chaton." 

[My kitten]

Lucien's eyes snapped wide as his pupils did when he heard Mundy's voice utter those words. The pronunciation wasn't too far off, it was the right amount of his accent, a delicious twist that made the Frenchman melt further. 

[starlightsearches]

Office Romance: Ch. 12 Threats

General Hux and Kylo Ren have found themselves competing for the affection of a lieutenant aboard the Finalizer.

Series Warnings: Language, some violence, near-death experiences.

Masterlist

AN: Hello everyone! Thank you for the wonderful response to the last chapter, I'm completely blown away! Just so everybody knows, I'm still taking requests for one-shots, headcannons, and preferences.

There are a few super super slight references to sex in this chapter, but for the most part it's pretty mild. Let me know what you think!

Ren stared up at the intricately-painted ceiling as he laid on the bed. He was trying not to think about the fact that you were practically naked—wearing only a robe—and sitting a few feet away from him. Not that anything was going to happen, of course, no matter how badly he wanted it; he had been in this same position for about three hours now with little development.

The First Order celebration thrown in your honor was tonight, but neither the Finalizer nor the Supremacy were large enough to accommodate all of the transports needed to shuttle guests to a party like this one, and so instead you were at an estate on Alsakan owned by one of the members of the Directorate. Everything about the place screamed opulence, including the bedroom where Ren and you were waiting for the party to start. It was twice the size of his quarters on the ship and packed with every lavish furnishing you could imagine. Hux was overseeing arrangements for the festivities in the largest of the three ballrooms now, no doubt bossing around caterers and decorators to the point of insanity.

Ren had followed you to the room they had arranged for your preparation, since he had nothing better to do, and you didn’t seem to mind his presence. He had been to your quarters a few more times over the last few days, sometimes for teaching purposes . . . and sometimes not. You had believed him when he said he was trying to avoid the general, even if you found it a little strange. The white lie was worth it since it allowed him spend more time with you; if he had things his way, he’d never leave your side. Just being there with you in the room with you was almost unbearable, but the torture of it was sweet to Ren, the anticipation delectable.

“Would you hand me my hairbrush?” you asked him, pointing to your bag at the end of the bed. After you had finished reading over your speech for the hundredth time, you started working on your appearance, applying creams and pigments with a practiced hand. Ren sat up on the bed and grabbed your bag, giving it to you and finding a seat on a low bench by the gilded vanity where you worked.

“Have you had any success?” he asked, and he knew he didn’t have to clarify his meaning any further.

“No,” you sighed in response. You looked stunning, your eyes sparkling in the light of the mirror, and maybe he was a little glad that you hadn’t learned to pick up on his thoughts yet.

“It’s a process. It will come in time.”

“It doesn’t feel like a process,” you said, irate, “it feels like . . . nothing. I look at people, I try to feel it, try to sense anything, and-” you shrugged, and the robe slipped from your shoulder, revealing the smooth skin of your shoulder before you pulled it back into place. On second thought, Ren was definitely glad that you hadn't learned to read his thoughts yet.

“Have you tried contact? That can make it easier-”

“I tried that on the general the other day, and it didn’t work.” Ren paused, withholding a scowl. What had that entailed? “I’m telling you, I don’t feel anything!” You hesitated for a moment after your outburst, speaking more quietly, “the only time I’ve managed is when we’ve practiced.”

“I’m sure you’ll get there,” Ren said. He really didn’t want to argue with you, and part of him was still trying to discern what had happened between you and the general, pulling his focus away from the conversation.

“Do you think it’s possible-” you said, biting your lip before continuing, “do you think it’s possible that Snoke was . . . wrong about me?”

“You’re being too hard on yourself.” That particular discussion was not one he wanted to have right now, especially when you were already in a semi-volatile state.

“I’m just saying, maybe I’m not force-sensitive. Maybe I’m just, I don’t know, sensitive to the force? If it only works when I’m around you, could it be possible that I’m . . . accessing part of your power? Is there such a thing?”

“I’ll look into it.” Ren had never heard of anything like that before, but he wanted to give you some peace of mind, and you seemed mollified for now.

“I need to put on my dress,” you stood from the chair, walking to the garment bag hanging up by the door. He moved to leave, but you stopped him, saying, “you can close your eyes.”

Ren couldn’t find anything to say in reply, his mind gone blank, but shut his eyes in compliance, every nerve in his body thrumming as he listened to the sound of your robe sliding to the floor. What would he do, he wondered, if you came over to him, placed yourself gently in his lap, ran your lips over the skin of his jaw? What would he do if you brushed your fingertips over his eyelids, his mouth? If you kissed him? The fabric of your dress rustled as you pulled it over your body, but the sound far away in Ren’s mind, which was occupied by more pressing matters.

“You can open your eyes now.” The enchantment of the moment was broken, and Ren looked to you. You held the crimson gown up over your chest to keep it from falling as the straps and strings of beading hung low off your shoulders, apparently only decorative. “Would you mind lacing me up?” You walked over to him, and faced away; he was glad you couldn’t see the heat rising in his cheeks.

The back of the dress was mostly open, everything from the middle of your spine all the way to your neck visible between the laces of the corset. Ren swallowed hard, and reached for the strings that would hold the dress in place. Had you always had this much skin? And did all of it look this soft? He resisted the urge to brush his fingers up your spinal column, tried not to think about the way you might curve into him if he did, and pulled the ribbons tighter. It was a lengthy process, and he couldn’t stop his hands from shaking as he secured it. You let go of the dress and swished around, checking to make sure that everything felt stable.

“How do I look?” you asked, satisfied, turning to face him and settling the skirt around you. The dress was elegant, ornately beaded with burgundy jewels in organic patterns—leaves, flowers, birds—the scarlet color striking against your skin, giving off an aura of strength and authority. Ren wracked his brain for the right words, but nothing felt powerful enough to describe the way he saw you. Like a goddess, or a warrior queen from the stories he had been told as a child.

“You look . . . nice.” Damnit. That wasn’t the right choice, and your face fell for a moment before Ren stammered to correct himself, “I mean, you look beautiful.” You turned to admire your appearance in the full-length mirror, smiling, taking in the effect of your completed ensemble.

“Maybe it’s a little frivolous,” you said, “but I love these parties. I miss dancing all the time.” You swayed for a moment, and then twirled, holding your hands up for an imaginary dance partner, the skirt flaring around your legs as you moved.

“I never learned how to dance,” God. What other idiotic things should he admit to you? If you ran your hands through my hair I’d probably black out. I thought about kissing you once the other day and I had to take a walk to calm down.

“Come here, I’ll teach you.” You gestured for him to come closer, and he paused reluctantly before giving in. You grabbed both of his hands, placing one at the dip your waist, the beading rough against his fingers, and his breath hitched; he hoped you wouldn’t notice. You demonstrated the steps slowly at first, and he followed along clumsily as you led him in a small circle.

“Don’t look at your feet,” you said, squeezing his hand in yours, “it’ll only make it more difficult. Just look at me.” As if that was going to solve his problem. Ren obeyed, and noticed a familiar look of focus on your face.

“Are you trying to read me right now?” he asked, a little scandalized, hoping selfishly that you hadn’t had any success. If you started getting better at this, he’d have to be more careful around you.

“I’m just trying to get in more practice,” you said, widening your eyes and blinking with mock innocence.

“Are you getting anything?” Did he want to hear your answer? He couldn’t decide if it was worse to know or to wonder.

“You seem nervous?”

“Don’t guess. You have to reach for it.” Ren berated himself silently; he should not be encouraging you right now with his emotions going haywire.

“You’re-” A knock on the door interrupted whatever you had planned to say, and the general stepped in before you or Ren had the chance to answer. He was already dressed for the party as well, wearing a black suit and looking hostile.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” Hux said, sounding terribly glad to have interrupted the scene before him. You let go of Ren—his hand slipping from your waist reluctantly—and walked to Hux, brushing some imaginary dust off of his shoulder and resting your hand over the lapel of his suit jacket.

“Hello, General! You look very handsome.” He blushed pink in response, and Ren forced himself not to gag. You adjusted the collar of his dress shirt, your hand lingering near Hux’s neck, and Ren felt the general’s pulse quicken at the contact. She’s trying to read him. Ren was once again impressed by your cleverness, despite the fact that you had just been using it against him. A better person than him would have warned the general what you were trying to do, but if you found out anything unsavory from your attempts to connect to the force, that would be Hux’s problem. Even in a stalemate, Ren didn’t owe Hux anything.

“Thank you, Lieutenant,” Hux was trying to keep his voice steady, but his attempts sounded ineffective, at least to Ren’s ears, “you look lovely.” You removed your hand from his collar; apparently you hadn’t been able to pick up on his thoughts. The general was dismayed that you had broken contact, and the bitter part of Ren wanted to tell him the real reason it had happened, despite the fact that the temporary wound it would cause to Hux’s ego would only be detrimental to Ren’s long-term goal.

“You’re too kind, General. Is everything ready?”

“Guests are just arriving now. Speaking of which,” Hux said, “The allegiant general and his wife are here. They wanted to see you.”

“They’re here?” Apprehension scuttled up your spine, and Ren picked up on it before you controlled it. Strange.

“Yes, but I can have them wait until the end of the party if you would like.”

“No, that’s alright,” your pulse increased incrementally as you spoke, “you can bring them in.”

Officious prick. Hux kept his mouth shut, but couldn’t keep himself from silently insulting Pryde as they walked back to the room. The man and his wife—a frail-looking, stuffy woman—walked a few steps behind him, talking as if he weren’t there at all, critiquing everything about the evening from the decor to the weather, and Hux wanted to scream by the time they finally reached the correct room. Pryde brushed by Hux as soon as they arrived and opened the door without knocking, his wife following close behind. Hux entered last, finding a place along the wall next to Ren to observe the reunion.

“Oh, darling!” Pryde’s wife greeted you first, and you stood from off the bed to go to her. She engulfed you in a hug, which you returned, bending down to hold the tiny woman in your arms. Pryde approached you next, and you saluted him, and then embraced him as well, placing a soft kiss on his cheek.

“We’re so proud of you, daughter,” Pryde said, holding you at arm’s length, and you gave both of them a gentle smile.

Hux watched the interaction with a strange fascination. His own father had never said those words to him, in public or private, had never expressed any kind of satisfaction in him at all . . . Usually it was the opposite. Hux had been suspicious when you first told him about your relation to the allegiant general and his wife, worried that your upbringing may have been like his own, but it seemed that they were caring parents to you, or at least, more caring than his father had been.

“Darling,” your mother began, looking a little scandalized as she scrutinized your appearance, “don’t you think that might be too much . . . skin for an event like this? You wouldn’t want anyone to think of you as indecorous.” The neckline was rather low, something Hux had already noticed, and the back was open, exposing the powerful muscles of your shoulders and arms. You laughed, brushing off her criticisms.

“Please mother, I like this dress,” you said with a sly smile, “and if you think this is indecorous, you should have seen the other ones I tried on.” You winked, and she reached out and swatted at you, shocked at your cavalier attitude. Hux perked up at your words. He would have liked to see the other dresses. Ren glared at him, hearing his thoughts, but Hux chose to ignore it. After all, he had probably been thinking the same thing.

“You still wear your grandmother’s necklace, though, at least,” your mother said, oblivious to the conflict behind her. Hux had hardly noticed it before now, a modest trinket. Besides, there were quite a few things more exciting about your attire than your jewelry.

“Always,” you responded, taking her by the hand. What would it have been like, Hux wondered, if he had been raised in the Pryde home instead? Would they have treated him this kindly? Or was there truly something terrible and weak about him that his father had picked up on, something that would ensure his abuse regardless of who was supposed to care for him?

A knock on the door interrupted Hux’s uneasy thoughts, and he opened it, blocking the view of the rest of the room. A servant of the estate stood at the door.

“Excuse me, General, but all of the guests have arrived. We’re almost ready for you to make your entrance.”

“Of course,” Hux said. He closed the door and turned back to face the room. Pryde looked at him with rancor, as if Hux had been the one to interrupt the gathering.

“We’ll leave now,” Pryde said, his hand on your shoulder in one final display of affection. “General, walk with us, I’d like to speak with you in private.” Hux raised his eyebrows in surprise, he had not expected Pryde to acknowledge him, but followed them out.

“Go on ahead, Mira,” Pryde directed his wife, shooing her down the hallway towards the party. He turned back to Hux, displeasure evident in his gaze, but the general stood his ground. Hux wasn’t a child anymore, and he wouldn’t let someone like Pryde push him around as he had so many times before.

“Walk with me, General.” They headed deeper into the shadowy portion of the hallway, away from the party, stopping in front of a large window that overlooked the massive grounds. The rain outside was torrential, falling in thick sheets, distorting the image and streaking down the glass like so many tears.

“I assume she told you,” Pryde said, finally.

“Yes.” So this was about you. Hux should have guessed.

“I assumed as much. She has always been a terrible judge of character.” Hux felt no sting in the insult, but his anger flared that your father would speak of you that way.

“On the contrary, Allegiant General, I’ve found her to be an excellent judge of character, present company notwithstanding.” It was not above Hux to make a snide remark, especially when Pryde had started it. “I assure you that I have no ill will for your daughter. I’ll keep the information private.”

“See that you do.” He made no move to leave, and Hux felt compelled to stay as well, despite his desire to do otherwise. He hated the idea of leaving you alone with Ren for any more time than necessary, especially after the impromptu dance lessons he had barged in on earlier. Pryde broke the silence again, his tone casual but his words laced with something dangerous, “My daughter is the most important thing in my possession. I will protect her by any means necessary. I’ve killed for her before, General, and I wouldn’t hesitate to do it again. Do we have an understanding?”

“Of course, sir,” Hux knew he was being threatened, but he couldn’t bother to care. He found the conversation tedious, the warning a little clumsy. To his surprise, Pryde grabbed him by the arm, his grip much stronger than his age would suggest, and forced him to make eye contact.

“Listen to me you piece of shit,” Pryde was seething as he spoke, so different from the caring persona he had adopted only moments ago, “your father may have been too stupid to kill you when he had the chance, but I will not be making the same mistake. If my daughter is harmed while under your supervision, I will not hesitate to end you. Do I make myself clear?”

“As I said before, sir-” Hux pulled his arm from Pryde’s grasp, straightening out the wrinkles in his jacket sleeve, “I understand you perfectly.”  The man sneered at him, disappointed that his intimidation had not yielded better results, and stalked off down the hallway. Hux composed himself, running his hand once more over his jacket sleeve before heading back to the room.

“What was that about?” You asked the general as soon as he entered. Ren, too, was trying to determine what had happened, and he found the memory easily, observing Pryde’s threats with more unease than Hux had expected. What did he know?

“Just a question about Starkiller Base. Are you ready?” Hux didn’t feel good about lying to you, even if it was necessary for your peace of mind, if not your protection. Regardless of how affectionate Pryde had seemed, Hux doubted that he was a man who would accept any kind of defiance, even from his daughter.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” you said, taking his arm. Ren placed his helmet over his face, and followed closely behind, the three of you on your way to greet your guests.

Ren hated parties. He normally could avoid them, as many members of the First Order were somewhat uncomfortable in his presence, but the ones he had attended were boring at the best of times. It didn’t help that most of the reasons that these gatherings were supposed to be enjoyable were denied him: the extravagant meals, the posturing in front of colleagues and competitors, and the dancing—something he never thought he would enjoy, but now that you were there . . .

It seemed from the beginning that this party was going to be more intolerable than most. It bothered him that you were on Hux’s arm, but Ren did have a reputation to maintain, and the Directorate was distrustful of force users; they would like any reason to question his competence, and showing any weakness would have immediate consequences.

The party started off with a reception line, which he was required to be a part of even though no one was there to talk to him. Ren was forced to watch as Hux showed off for you, probably part of the general’s plan, introducing you to members of the Directorate with a superior air. The grand manner with which he presented himself was already annoying, but even worse, it seemed to be working: you practically fawned over him as he spoke, admiring the way he was treated by the highest ranked in the Order. You had almost fainted when he introduced you to Rae Sloane, one of your personal heroes, and Ren was having a harder and harder time trying not to lash out.

A servant announced that dinner was about to be served, and you found your way to your seats at the high table. Phasma joined your group on the general’s left, in her armor but without her helmet now that she had finished with the assignments for the Storm Trooper security detail. The Troopers stood on the edges of the ballroom, more for show than anything else.

The meal began, the polite dinner conversation along with it, and Ren participated in neither, instead choosing to watch you, grateful for the mask—grateful that you couldn’t see the softness in his face as he studied you intently. You’re not eating, you pressed the thought towards him silently, feigning focus on the discussion happening at the table. Ren knew a shrug in response wouldn’t suffice, but he was unsure how to communicate back to you without alerting the other guests. Your hand slipped surreptitiously from above the table into your lap, and then underneath, reaching to him. He could see your fingers wiggling in his periphery. It’s worth a shot, he heard you, and he cautiously pulled his glove off of his right hand, placing it in yours. Your fingers intertwined with his, and he felt his palm begin to perspire almost immediately. He sneered behind the mask, disgusted with himself. How could he even think of being with you in that way when this slight contact had such an effect on him?

He focused his thoughts, trying to make his message stark in his mind so that you could more easily grab onto it. He could feel your attempts to focus, but nothing yielded, his thoughts still secure, and his palm grew slicker. Would you notice? What would the others think if they caught you holding hands like children away from prying eyes? Maybe, he thought, he could help you if he just gave a little push.

A strangled cry rose from your throat, which immediately turned into a coughing fit, drawing the eyes of the other dinner guests. Ren pulled his hand from yours, too abruptly, and he knew without looking that Hux had seen.

“Are you alright, Lieutenant General?” Phasma asked, and a waiter, sensing your distress, came over to refill your glass. You took a long sip of the wine, finally able to breathe again.

“Yes, I’m fine,” you assured her, and the others relaxed, except for Hux, who still had his eyes on Ren, “I don’t know what came over me.” Pryde was looking at you, as well, seated a little ways away, his gaze boring into you, and you shrunk infinitesimally, a stabbing fear entering your head. The same fear you had felt earlier in the bedroom, when your father had first come to visit.

“It’s probably just the nerves, Lieutenant General,” Sloane said, “I’m sure your speech will be wonderful.” Ren could feel your heart flutter at her words, the pride of being recognized by someone as powerful as Sloane only slightly dampened by your interaction with your father. The chatter resumed at the table, and you glanced at Ren, another one of your thoughts coming to him: how did you do that? Ren shrugged in response, but you moved your hand under the table again, insistent, and he was forced to oblige.

I’m sorry, did I hurt you? He pressed the thought at you, gently this time, and you shivered in response, but your expression remained impassive.

No, it just surprised me. It’s the strangest sensation, I don’t know if I could explain it . . . Have you ever done something like that before?

No, Ren could feel himself blushing like an idiot. The question felt suggestive in a way that put him on edge, and he hoped that you wouldn’t be able to pick up on his discomfort through your tenuous connection. He needed to distract you. Do you think anyone else noticed? Your father? You stiffened, pulling your hand from his, shaking your head minutely. By now, Ren had sensed a pattern. Whenever you thought of the allegiant general, your thoughts turned black.

The plates from the final course were cleared away, and the general took the stage, giving you a small introduction before your speech. Ren listened half-heartedly as Hux blathered on about bravery and loyalty and dedication. He finished, and you moved to the stage as Hux once again found his seat.

Ren tried to force himself to listen to your speech, but he couldn’t manage to focus on anything you were saying. He was still thinking about your father. Before the party, he had been curious: you acted the part of a loving daughter perfectly, but the terror had been undeniable. You, a person who feared so little, were practically paralyzed when Pryde had singled Hux out, pacing anxiously in the room while they had talked. He was still trying to make sense of it all when Hux elbowed him in the side, hard.

“What?” Ren whispered, hoping Hux could hear his anger despite the mask.

“There’s a Storm Trooper, up against the wall over there, six down from us. The fidgeting one. I want you to tell me what they’re thinking.” Ren rolled his eyes. A twitchy Storm Trooper; how trivial. Ren was about to tell Hux to piss off, but he looked to Captain Phasma first, and stopped. She was on edge, a fierce look in her eyes, completely ignoring your speech, her entire body focused only on the Storm Trooper in question, her hands balled into tight fists. He had never seen her this way before. Something was wrong.

Ren closed his eyes cast his focus outward, letting the thoughts of the crowd spill into his consciousness, trying to pick out the Storm Trooper in question without alerting any of the others to his presence.

He stood from the chair, knocking it over roughly, and Phasma and the general moved with him in tandem, out of their seats without Ren needing to say anything. But they were too late. Ren was forced to watch from across the room as the Trooper raised his blaster, aimed at your heart, and fired.

Tags: @dark-night-sky-99​

[bcimbatmandude]

More Human Than Meets the Eye-chapter 1

A/N: Hello! I’ve posted this before but stopped writing it, so I’m posting it again because I’ve picked it up again. This story involves Sherlock having a daughter. It goes through the series and we see how the character would change to fit around a 7 year old lol. This might be trash to some of you but it’s fun to write. Please enjoy!

"We don't know a thing about each other; I don't know where we're meeting; I don't even know your name!" John Watson was utterly flabbergasted. Here before him stood a tall, very strange man. He had short, dark curly hair. A scarf was hanging loosely around his neck, and he was sporting what appeared to be a very nice dark grey Milford Coat.

"We've only just met each other," John continued, "and you want to go look at a flat together?"

"Problem?" the curly haired man questioned, left eyebrow rising.

John just stared. His mouth opened and closed a few times. He was aware that he probably looked like a blubbering idiot, but for the life of him, he couldn't think of a retort. He looked to his left in the hopes of receiving assistance from his friend Mike. However, none was to be found. Mike smiled towards John somewhat smugly.

A bit put out, John finally managed to find his voice again. "Look mate, I don't know if…"

"You're an army doctor," the man interrupted. "You've been invalid from Afghanistan. You've got a brother who's worried about you but you won't go to him for help because you don't approve of him due to either his alcoholism or the fact that he just recently walked out on his wife. I'm leaning towards the latter. Your therapist believes that your limp is psychosomatic. She's correct." He ended his rambling and smirked at John, then proceeded to stride towards the door.

"That's enough to sate you I believe." He opened the door and started to strut out before quickly swinging his upper half back inside the room. "The names Sherlock Holmes and the address is 221B Baker Street. Afternoon."

The door swung shut behind him, and John stared dumbly at it for a few seconds before swinging his head back towards Mike. The man simply smiled at his dumbfounded friend. "Yeah, he's always like that."

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

John gazed at the bronze letters in front of him curiously, his cane propped carefully next to him.

221B Baker Street.

The sound of a car pulling up interrupted his thought process, and he turned around to see the man from earlier, Sherlock Holmes, get out of his taxi. He closed the car door and leaned back in through the window to hand him the driver money. "Thanks very much," he said before turning around and walking towards John. "Hello again," he greeted, holding his hand out.

"Ah, Mr. Holmes," John replied, grabbing his hand in a firm shake. "Sherlock, please," he requested. John nodded and commented, "This looks like a prime spot. Must be expensive."

Sherlock hummed. "Yes I suppose it would be." At John's questioning look he continued. " The landlady, Mrs. Hudson, owed me a favor and gave me a special deal."

"Oh?" John hummed.

"Yes,” Mr. Holmes nodded. “A few years back her husband got himself sentenced to death in Florida. I was able to assist her with his sentencing." "You were able to stop her husband from being executed?" John inquired."Oh no," Sherlock smiled, "I ensured it."

Before John could respond to that, Sherlock had swung the door open. A small, older woman with a kind face was there to meet them, and John watched as she greeted Sherlock cheerfully. She embraced him, and John was somewhat surprised to see Sherlock briefly return her affections with a hug of his own.Sherlock allowed his landlady and new flat mate to exchange introductions before making his way upstairs to his abode. He waited patiently for John to limp his way up the necessary steps, and opened the door exposing the living room.

John thought the flat looked nice, very nice indeed. It just needed some tidying up. He said as much. "Well this could be nice. Very nice indeed."

"Yes, my thoughts precisely. So I went ahead and moved in." As he spoke the last sentence, John also said, "Soon as we get all the rubbish cleaned out."

An awkward pause filled the room, and John inwardly cringed. He opened his mouth to apologize, but before he could, he heard what he thought sounded like a child giggling. "Sorry," he started, looking at Sherlock in confusion. "Did I just hear a child?" Sherlock rolled his eyes."I forgot to mention that I have a…"

"Dad!"

John swung around towards the door of the flat, watching as a small child burst through and ran straight towards Sherlock.

"…daughter," Sherlock finished. John watched as the little girl ran up to Sherlock and hugged his leg. She only reached up to about a little above his knee, and John ruled her to be about 7 or 8 years old. She had blonde curly hair that reached to about her shoulders. She was turned towards her father so the rest of her features were hidden from him.

"Dad, you're back!" the child exclaimed happily.

"Yes," Sherlock simply replied. "I see you've gotten into the ice cream again."

The child stepped back a bit from the man, ducking her head. "Yes, well, Mrs. Hudson offered me some and I couldn't be rude and refuse…"Sherlock rolled his eyes again in exasperation. John figured he did that a lot.

"Hello!" He looked down towards the small voice that was suddenly addressing him. "My name's Adaline," she started, walking towards him. "Adaline Cecilia Holmes. But I just go by Adaline."

She held her hand out towards John.Highly amused at her adorable action, he gently took her small hand in his. "Are you going to live with us?" she inquired, looking up at him with big green eyes that matched her fathers.

In fact, a lot of her matched her father. She definitely had his particular shade of green eyes. The shape of her nose was from Sherlock, and her ivory complexion matched his as well. The only difference of course was the color of her hair, and a rosiness to her cheeks which made her look very innocent and cherub like.

"I believe so," John answered, and couldn't help but smile back at her when she beamed up at him in response to his statement.

"Adaline what on Earth are you wearing on your feet?" Sherlock spoke in an exasperated voice.John looked down curiously and chuckled. She was wearing bright green rain boots which didn't at all match the blue floral dress she had on. They had little lily pads on them and a frog was show cased near the toe of the boots. John was even more amused when she turned towards her father and the shoes let out a tiny croak.

"Do you like them?" she grinned excitedly. "Mrs. Hudson got them for me!"

"Mrs. Hudson!" Sherlock yelled suddenly. "Yes dear?" the kind lady inquired, walking inside. "Mrs. Hudson how many times have I told you that if you buy her clothing, it must be sensible?" The landlady's eyebrows went up in confusion. "I don't know what you mean Sherlock."

Croak.

John snickered a bit and Sherlock groaned. "Oh lighten up Sherlock," she lightly laughed. "She was such a sweet girl helping me tidy up my apartment and I couldn't resist." Sherlock huffed when Mrs. Hudson and Adaline both looked up at him with innocent smiles. "Oh alright," he conceded. "Next time just make sure you buy her things that aren't so…loud."

Mrs. Hudson nodded and looked towards John."What do you think of the flat then Doctor Watson? If you'll be needing two bedrooms there's another one right upstairs."

"Of course we'll be needing two bedrooms," he answered, slightly confused. She smiled at him. "Oh don't worry dear, there's all sorts round here. Mrs. Turner next door's got married ones." John spluttered in indignation and looked to Sherlock, who seemed to be oblivious to the land lady's words. "Sherlock the mess you've made!" Mrs. Hudson continued, also unaware of John's plight.

He watched as Sherlock began to somewhat attempt to tidy up the place. He limped himself over to the nearest armchair and plopped himself down. Adaline giggled at John's silliness and walked over to the coach, croaking the entire way. "Adaline I insist you take your shoes off before walking any further. I simply cannot endure the croaking." "But dad I can't take them off yet!" She cried, looking at her father imploringly. "Mrs. Hudson says I need to wear them as much as possible to work them in." "Of course she did," he muttered, letting the matter drop.

It was silent throughout the flat for a little bit then, and John glanced around trying to take everything in. His eyes landed on one particular item on the mantel piece. "That's a skull." He stated the obvious. "Friend of mine," Sherlock answered, glaring for a second at Adaline's shoes.

"His name is Rupert," Adaline provided for John. "I much prefer the name Billy," Sherlock countered.

"I looked you up on the internet last night," John said then.

"Find anything interesting?"

"I found your website," John answered. "The Science of Deduction." Sherlock smiled at John, quite proud of himself. "What did you think?"

His smile fell when John got a hesitant look on his face."You said you could identify a software designer by his tie and an airline pilot by his left thumb." "That's correct," Sherlock nodded. "I can also read your military career in your face and leg, and your brother's drinking habits by your mobile phone."

"How is that possible?"

"My dad is quite clever, Dr. Watson," Adaline said. Sherlock gave a small smile to his daughter in thanks. "What about these suicides then, Sherlock?" Mrs. Hudson inquired. She walked over and grabbed the newspaper that had been thrown on the table in the living room. "Three exactly the same."

"Four," Sherlock corrected, walking over to the window and peering out of it. Adaline hopped up from her place on the coach and walked over to her father. She wrapped an arm around his leg, and he glanced down at her, placing his left hand on top of her head. She leaned into him sweetly and he gently began running his fingers through her curls. "There's been a fourth."

John turned his head towards the door when he heard footsteps coming up towards the flat. Inspector Lestrade strode through. The man looked over at John, giving him a polite nod in greeting before looking back towards the curly haired man.

"Uncle Greg!" Lestrade looked down when he suddenly felt something small attach itself to his leg and grip it firmly. "Hello Ada!" he greeted warmly, hugging her back happily. He was quite fond of the little girl, and commented to Sherlock as often as he could how much more pleasant she was than her father."Where?" Sherlock asked the detective, cutting right to the chase."Brixton, Lauriston Gardens," Lestrade answered, looking away from the child now and back to Sherlock.

"What's new about this one?" Adaline asked, and the detective looked back down, eyebrow raised. "Uncle Greg you wouldn't have come if there was nothing new," she finished smartly. He shook his head a bit at her astuteness, and answered. "This one decided to be a bit different and leave a note. Will you come?"

Sherlock gave a pause before continuing. "Who's on forensics?"

"Anderson."

Sherlock grimaced and Adaline looked at her father worriedly. John had no idea what was going on or why Adaline was now somewhat pouting. "Anderson won't work with me," Sherlock said."Well he won't be your assistant." "I need an assistant."

Adaline opened her mouth, and without even looking in her direction, Sherlock said, "No, Adaline." She huffed and crossed her arms dejectedly.

"Will you come?" Lestrade asked again."Not in a police car," he answered. "I'll be right behind." Lestrade thanked the man and left. Silence echoed through the flat for a good five seconds before Sherlock excitedly leapt into the air, clenching his fists triumphantly. He picked his daughter up and whirled her around in a circle happily.

The little girl, completely forgetting she was supposed to be upset, giggled wildly and latched onto her father's arms. He plopped a sweet kiss on her forehead before setting her down and running towards the door.

"Brilliant!" he cried. "Absolutely brilliant. Four serial suicides, and now a note! Oh it's Christmas! Mrs. Hudson please watch Adaline for me. I know you won't mind. I'll probably be late coming back; make sure she eats something. Bed by 9:30 at the latest. I will also require sustenance."

"I'm your land lady Sherlock, not your babysitter," she reminded him."Something cold will do," he continued.

He stopped all movements suddenly and looked towards Adaline. He gave her 'the look' and she sighed and nodded, seemingly understanding just what it entailed. He nodded back, satisfied. "John, have a cuppa and make yourself at home. Don't wait up!" Sherlock darted out of the room, leaving the three remaining occupants staring at each other. Adaline croaked herself over to her father's chair, sitting down. She kept looking towards the door, as if she were waiting for something to happen.

"Look at him, dashing about!" Mrs. Hudson tutted. "My husband was just the same." She smiled fondly towards John. "But you're more the sitting down type, I can tell. I'll make you that cup of tea. You just rest your leg."

"Damn my leg!" John shouted loudly and quite unexpectedly, making Mrs. Hudson and Adaline look at him in shock.

"Sorry. I'm so sorry," he back tracked when he realized he had startled a child. She looked at him from her chair, blinking owlishly. "It's just sometimes this bloody thing…"

"I understand dear," Mrs. Hudson cut in. "I've got a hip." John cleared his throat. "A cuppa would be quite lovely, thank you." "Just this once dear," the land lady replied, walking towards her flat. "Couple of biscuits too, if you've got them."

"I'll help Mrs. Hudson!" Adaline threw in sweetly, bouncing towards the older woman. Mrs. Hudson chuckled fondly towards the child. "You just want some more sweets." "Well.." the blonde haired girl started. Mrs. Hudson winked and lowered her voice a bit. "It'll be our little secret dear." Adaline beamed at her and John chuckled at the two. He picked up the newspaper next to him, and began sifting through it.

"You're a doctor," John heard a deep voice say and looked over to see Sherlock leaning against the doorway. His eyebrows rose. "Yes…" he started. "In fact you're an army doctor."

"I am," John confirmed.

"Any good?"

"Very good."

"Seen a lot of injuries then. Violent deaths."

"Yes."

"Bit of trouble too, I bet." "Of course, yes," John answered quietly. He watched as Adaline peeked her way in through the doorway again, having heard her father's voice. "Enough for a lifetime. Far too much.""Want to see some more?" Sherlock inquired, already knowing the answer. John looked away from Adaline to Sherlock. "Oh God, yes."

The two men headed out of the room towards the front door. "Are you all going out?" Mrs. Hudson asked. "Impossible suicides Mrs. Hudson? Four of them? There's no point sitting at home when there's finally something fun going on!" He took the older woman by her shoulders and pressed a chaste kiss to her cheek.

"Look at you, all happy. It's not decent," she said, the smile on her face contradicting her words."Who cares about decent?" Sherlock and John headed towards the door, John going outside first.

Sherlock went to follow when he stopped suddenly and turned back towards the flat. John turned as well and saw that Adaline had grabbed the back of her father's coat. Sherlock kneeled down to her level."I'll be back very soon," he promised quietly.

Adaline said nothing, only gazed at her father very seriously for several seconds. She bit her lip and creased her eyebrows and John had to fight back a smile at the adorableness. He didn't dare move for fear of interrupting the father-daughter moment. She nodded then, and Sherlock moved towards her, grabbing her small body in a tight hug before kissing the side of her head and standing to his full height once again, and bounding outside.

"The game is on!"

that’s chapter 1! I’ve gotten all the way to chapter 13 written I think?? I’ll post them randomly. anyway! thanks for reading! next one should be up soon.

[weeping-petals]

Shadow Rabbit

Word Count - 2,493

The Crystal Gems need to have a talk about their encounter with the hostile Spinel, and send Steven off on a quick ‘errand’ to pick up doughnuts. By the time he returns home, he has even more questions.

“That can’t be right. You didn’t just fall asleep.” Pearl began, promptly when they return to the Crystal Temple.

 The blast of light faded, and each member of the Crystal crew stepped off. Pearl followed close behind Steven, still aboard the ‘you’re wrong and I must be correct’ train. Behind the Pearl, Amethyst made a face.

 “Maybe fell on your head,” the lilac gem posed. “Or got dropped, tossed, hurtled. Maybe a fist collided with—”

 “Would you guys stop it!” Steven burst. He tugged off his hoodie and threw it aside. They weren’t listening, and hastened to judge ever sentence that popped out of his mouth. All throughout the hike back, they boggled him with interrogation of what happened, how he felt. The trio was uncharacteristically clingy, more so than if he had fallen into actual peril. “That’s how it happened. We were sneaking around, well, she was sneaking. I stopped paying attention, and… yeah, it was really boring.”

 Amethyst shrugged. “No, that doesn’t sound like Spine. Try again.”

 Pearl disregarded the coat on the floor (very unusual) and knelt on her knee, to examine Steven once more. “You must’ve suffered a concussion. You shouldn’t have been sleeping, in fact, you should stay awake for the next few hours. To be safe.”

 Steven was at his wits end. “I didn’t FALL! The complete opposite of interesting happ—”

 “I could use some doughnuts,” Garnet blurted. She put a hand on Pearl’s shoulder, stole her away from Steven, and set a hand on Amethyst’s head. The two gems went along with the gesture, grasping a hidden meaning. “Steven, you’re the best at catching doughnuts. Do you mind running a quick errand?”

 This was a universal request to excuse them for a short spell. Steven toed the floor with his sandal and pouted. “Sure. Any special requests?”

 Pearl raised a finger. “Two bakers dozen.”

 Amethyst piped up next. “Filling. And coating. Lots of sprinkles. BACON!”

 “Red and blue,” Garnet wished, clasping her hands together. “You better take the wagon.”

 It hurt a little more than it should have, despite knowing it was gem business. The topic always spooked his dad, but it fascinated the pants off Steven. He should have been a part of it; he was the one kidnapped, but he also wanted to help Spinel. The time he spent in her company (or captivity?) felt like days, though it was only a few hours. The sun was rising on the tranquil shores of Beach City, the denizens emerging from storefronts or meandered their way along the boardwalk to begin opening shop. The Crystal Gems spent a whole day and night out in the forest.

 The wagon was easy to haul off from the beach and to the road. He ventured to the front of the Big Doughnut and hurried inside.

 “I need a bakers dozen! ASOP!” He whooped.

 “Whoa-whoa!” Sadie, opening shop today, struggled with two large boxes of merch. “I barely got the displays set. Can ya kinda give me a sec?”

 Steven immediately chilled. “Oh. Sorry! Forgot what time it was. What time is it, by the way?”

 “Barely got in, if that’s a good ref,” she offered. She set the boxes on the counter and began opening, pulling out pre-packaged pastries. “You’re up early for a Saturday.”

 “So, time doesn’t flow differently in the magical petrify forest. Huh?” Steven tried to sound clever, stroking his chin as he crossed to the counter. “In-teer-esting.”

 Sadie smirked as she rose up from behind the display case. “Magical forest? Time flow? Is this more of that gem stuff?” If Lars was here he would be groaning at her, to not get Steven started. But it was nice to have some positive company while she was setting up, and Steven was always getting into some wild adventures. It kept him out of trouble.

 “It was cool,” Steven enthused, eyes starry. “We – the gems and me – went out to check on this rock forest, where this temple was bein’ built. There were crystal trees, bigger than the city, bigger than the temple and the city combined!” He swung his arms up, exaggerating details. “It was sunset there, while here it was middle of the day! Oh-oh! And there was a gem there! A real gem, like Garnet, Pearl, or Amethyst!”

 “A gem person? Y’mean, other than those gem monsters….”

 Steven broke from his whirlwind showman and gawked. “Why does everyone keep hating on her? She’s not a monster!”

 A loud thump resounded from the counter, likely from Sadie bumping her head. “Hold up, take it easy.” She straightened, rubbing her crown. “I’m going off on all those stories you tell, and the fact the other gems are always fighting these… monsters.” She cast her eyes away, hesitant. “And, aside from you, your friends, and… your mom – I had no idea there were other gems, gem people, around. So….”

 “A bakers dozen! Make that two!” Steven announced. “I have to get back, so I can ask them about her.”

 “I gotcha the first time, kiddo.” Sadie resumed ripping packages and lining up the inventory. “That’s like twenty-six doughnuts, and we’re not officially opened yet. What sort of doughnuts you want? I can go through the boxes and get started.”

 “My dad!”

 Thump!

 “Maybe he knows something about her!” Steven did an about-face and raced to the door. But halted. “Wait, Amethyst might be upset if she doesn’t get her doughnuts.” He did a little dance at the door, indecisive about what he should do and fighting the urge to blast out to the carwash. Even worse, what if his dad didn’t know anything?

 “Yes, do that!” he harped.

 Sadie sighed and dropped her forehead to the countertop. Adorable as Steven was, he sure was a mess.

 “So,” she said, after hauling out the third box from storage. “Did you catch the name of this new gem?”

 Steven sat at one of the tables, swinging his feet under the chair. “Spinel.” He was twiddling his thumbs on the tabletop, focused intently. The crash of the box snapped his attention back to Sadie.

 “Spindle?”

 “Spinel,” Steven repeated. Sadie gazed at him, expression perplexed. “Hmm?”

 “Sorry. I’m sure I’ve heard that name before.” She shook her head. “No idea where.”

 “My dad?”

 “Nope.” Sadie collected up the boxes and made progress on filling up the order. “That’s half my stock. Anyway, I think it was… Sour Cream? Certainly not Lars. I think it was around Halloween, we were sharing creepy stories about stuff that frightened us, y’know, when we were kids. That guy Sour Cream told us about this imaginary friend that was a kind of variant of this crooked man, and he called it Spindle—”

 Outside the Big Doughnut, Steven burst from the doors screaming, “SOUR CREAM!”

 Sadie was not close behind, didn’t catch Steven, and stood at the threshold. “Steven! YOUR DOUGHNUTS!”

 For the better part of the day, Steven raced across Beach City checking every nook and cranny he laid eyes on, every shady alleyway seeking the ‘Cool Kids’. He ventured to the abandoned warehouse, but the nights activities ended hours before dawn. In desperation, he tried hammering away at Lars door, but the father of Lars answered and spoke on behalf of his son that “that boy is still sleeping.” Steven raced off, exploring all the likely cool places the Cool Kids would meetup. He had no idea where Sour Cream lived, let alone other go to hangouts. He didn’t want to race out to the cliff.

 At long last, Steven began a desperate patrol of the shoreline. And there, near the pier of Funland he spied the Cool Kids in the midst of a round of hacky sack. And there was Sour Cream, balancing the lumpy satchel on his knee.

 “Sour Cream!”

 “Huh?” He balanced the sack on his elbow, right before Steven nearly bowled him over. “Brah! What gives—” He passed the orb, and Jenny managed to nab it on her ankle. “I guess I’m taking two!”

 “I have questions! Questions! And you have answers I need! Please!”

 Reluctantly, Sour Cream let his arm get tugged by Steven, and went along with the pre-teen. “I was in the middle of something. Do you get bad reception at your house? Texting is a thing.”

 Steven stalled. Above, the noises from screaming ride goers spilled down as the coaster careened through its track. “That’s… true. I’m used to talking face-to-face though. Heh.”

 Once Sour Cream liberated his arm, he jammed his hands in his pockets. “That’s more direct. I see the appeal.” He nodded. “I can’t help but catch those vibes of tension radiating off you. You got something you think I’ll help you with?”

 “I don’t know.” Steven was beginning to second guess. He was in such a hurry to locate Sour Cream, a task deemed all but possible, he didn’t gather up a good question. Or beginning. “Uh… did you ever know a gem?”

 “Amethyst? Yeah. Forever a long—”

 “No-no-no.” Steven took a breath. And stalled. Amethyst? He shook his head. “A gem named Spinel?” The bafflement that met him was disheartening.

 “Sorry lil dude. Aside from Amy, I don’t know any gems.”

 “Well,” Steven cupped his chin and considered. “What about the crooked creature? Spindle?” At first Sour Cream shook his head, but then, recognition lit up in his eyes.

 “Ooh, yeah. That thing.” He turned his gaze up thoughtfully. “This critter used to hang around the city, I’d see it lurking in the shadows sometimes. Kinda spooked me, but I didn’t get the ambiance it was dangerous.” He stooped on the sand, and began sketching out a face, grin, bent body, and tall ears. “It was sort of like a rabbit, made of ramen. Say, who’s been telling you my stories?”

 Steven didn’t answer. He was mesmerized by the crude picture, and could see how Spinel could be mistaken for a rabbit. Minus the fluffy tail. “Spindle?”

 “Yeah! Er, don’t know where the name came from.” Sour Cream weaved his arm in the air, fish like. “It did this deal, sort of slithered up and down walls. I’d see it, but no one else could. Meh. As I got older, I stopped seeing it. One day, I guess.” He shrugged and stood. “I grew up.”

 The story was very strange, but there was no mistaking what was staring at Steven from the sand. “Thanks Sour Cream. That really helped.”

 “Really? I didn’t do much.” He wiped the sand from his hands.

 Steven waved, as he took off. “That was all I needed. Sorry for stealing you from the game!”

 “No prob. Don’t do anything I would!”

 It was a long hike back to the Big Doughnut. Long, because Steven was halfway to the Crystal Temple, before he realized he’d forgotten the goods. He hurried back to the shop and raced inside.

 “Where’d you go?” Sadie asked, upon coming from the back storage.

 “No time to explain! I hope I’m not too late!” He grabbed the doughnuts, nearly forgot to pay, and went back to the cash register.

 “Too late for what?” she was getting panicked. Steven was sweaty and red, from running around too much in the sun. “Are you okay?”

 “Thanks for the doughnuts! I’ll see you tomorrow!” Steven blew out of the store, nearly plowing into Lars.

 “Crud, what is it now?” Lars barked, scuttling aside. “Don’t they feed you?”

 “I was just leaving!” Steven threw the boxes onto the wagon and took off, leaving a cloud of dust.

 Lars scratched his head. “Weird. Usually he tries to hug me… or something else weird. Sadie!” He entered the shop. “Did you give him caffeine again?”

 “Again!?”

 Racing a second time back to temple winded Steven. He managed to not lose a single doughnut or box on the uneven, and soft surface of the sand. Local seagulls took an interest in his cargo, and a few brash winged beasts pursued prepared to tear apart the precious goods if the boy stopped for the barest of moments. It raised the stakes for Steven’s skirmish back to the home, but he managed.

 “Shoo! Rawr!” He swung his arms at the seagulls, as he unloaded the boxes. They were still following him, gracefully gliding on wind current, while Steven ascended the steps. “AAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 Steven plowed through the screen door. Boxes went flying, a few doughnuts scattered, and seagulls poured in through the gaping portal. “Hey guys!” More seagulls swooped in, settling on the confectionary treats slain in the madness.

 The Crystal Gems gawked with varied stages of horror. Except Garnet. This was not the scenario she anticipated, but it was no less what she would’ve expected.

 “My DOUGNUTS!” Amethyst roared. She shifted form mid leap, and a large liger pounced on the crushed boxes, hissing and swiping at the laughing gulls. One bit her on the nose. “OW!”

 Steven rolled away before he got stepped on. He still had a lone box in his hands. “Salvaged one!” He scampered up and held it out to Pearl.

 “Aw, uh, thank you… Steven.” She took the box and handed it to Garnet, whom just held it. “It took you longer than we expected.”

 “RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRR!” Liger Amethyst shook her mane. Seagulls had overrun her, while she competed with them for eating the doughnuts. The birds were stealing the crumbs from beneath her jagged teeth. “THAT’S MINE YOU SEA RATS!”

 Pearl grimaced and clasped a hand over her mouth. Garnet sighed.

 “I think that’s enough of that.” Garnet handed the box back to Steven. “Cover your ears.” Pearl did that for him, but Steven was concerned, and dropped the doughnut container to set his hands over Pearl’s.

 Garnet formed the gauntlets and walked over to the doorway, where Ligerthyst combated the bold avians. She raised her hands over her head.

 “OUT OF OUR HOUSE OF SUFFER MY WRATH!” She screamed. That was it. She was loud, and commanding, and terrifying when needed.

 The seagulls screeched and flapped, vacating the premises in a white cloud. In their wake, feathers covered everything, including a scratched and scuffed up Liger. “ooOow.” Amethyst pawed at the boxes, tears formed in her eyes.

 Steven shifted his head to view Pearl. Her hands went tense, and were uncomfortable on his head. He couldn’t hear, but Pearl looked super upset and paler than usual. He pulled away from her grip.

 Amethyst sniffled. “Nothings left. It’s all gone. Everything. Gone.”

 “Look! We still have one box here! TADA!” Pearl snatched the box off the floor. She barely got the lid off, before Ligerthyst lay siege to the contents. She sighed, relieved.

 Steven almost expected vultures to descend, it looked like one of those nature documentaries in the veldt. Anything would be more pleasant than those seagulls. “Um, so… did Spinel live in Beach City, too?”

 The room went silent, and all three gems looked at Steven. Ligerthyst had crumbs all over her muzzle.

[elleonmybeloved]

Irresistible Clover

Amnesia | Heroine x Kent Words: 3722 Chapter: 1 Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22448383/chapters/53637313

Summary: Hera's got it bad for her coworker and once temp math-professor Kent, but she thinks it's pretty clear that he's not interested in relationships, or her for that matter. But when a golden opportunity to spend some time with him presents itself, she just can't resist being a sucker for love.

Kent isn't good at social relationships and he's well aware of that. A romantic relationship would just be asking for trouble, and probably not worth all the effort. But when it comes to his clever coworker Hera, he can't help but insert himself into her life every chance he gets. It's so illogical, more than 50% of relationships in people his age end in heartbreak, but where is this urge to hold her, protect her, and kiss her coming from? Why can't he treat her like everyone else?

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   

It was official. Hera was having a bad day. Well, days, actually.

First, her power went off right in the middle of her favorite game  Riddlemaster  yesterday. She’d only been able to play half an hour more before her laptop had finally died, and she’d lamented for having to watch it on such a small screen the whole time.

Defeated, she’d turned in early. Not much else to do with the lights out.

Second, she’d been unable to sleep until 3am, unused to the pitch dark. She preferred to sleep with her night light on, and refused to be ashamed about that no matter how much Shin teased her about it.

Third, the power was still out when she left to go to work in the morning, and all the food she had to eat was in the fridge, which she couldn’t open unless she wanted everything in there to spoil.

Finally, only an hour into her shift at the cafe, she’d developed a nice sleep deprivation headache that throbbed painfully behind her eyes.

So she couldn’t help it if she was being a little less patient than usual.

“Hey Hera, could you load up a fresh batch of frozen strawberries? We just ran out.”

Hera looked up from the triple-order of parfaits she was making and eyed the three whole other mostly idle people that Mine could have asked instead of her. Frozen strawberries were heavy and as one would assume,  frozen  and would smart on her bare hands after just a few seconds of carrying the bag.

“I’m busy with an order right now.” 

“Oh.” Mine looked extremely surprised, and Sawa who was working on sorting through tickets behind her wore a similarly shocked expression. Hera was usually quite polite with her speech. “Sorry.”

“Mm.” Hera didn’t think she  sounded  very sorry. Keeping her eyes down, she finished pouring the cream topping on the parfaits with a more aggressive squeeze than was necessary, and stalked off to go deliver them to the table before they began to melt.

Unfortunately for her, Ikki was ‘entertaining’ a customer at the bar which was right in her way to access the exit flap. Normally she’d just wait, but the parfaits were heavy, and if Waka noticed her serving half-melted ice cream she’d be the one to get berated later. And she really didn’t feel like listening to that.

“Excuse me.” She said shortly, looking pointedly at Ikki. “Coming through.”

His eyes widened and he hastily got out of the way. “Of course, my apologies for blocking your way…”

Hera didn’t respond, just briskly and carefully weaved around tables and customers to deliver her order.

Staring after her, Ikki made a short “huh” under his breath and then turned to the lady who was still giving him moony eyes as if nothing had even happened. 

“Right - thank you for your kind words my lady, but actually we don’t accept those types of things here. If you have any additional questions or concerns please don’t hesitate to voice them. For now, I’m afraid I must return to the kitchen.”

“Aww… okay.”

Back in the kitchen, Shin was restocking the whipped cream and cinnamon while Kent stoically oversaw the cooking of what Ikki assumed was about to be one of their “Creamy Heart Gnocchi” plates. Mine was struggling to lift a large bag of frozen strawberries out of the freezer, although it was a matter of height rather than strength.

Ikki leaned against the doorway to avoid getting in the way.

“Seems like our cute little maid has her claws out today.” He stated probingly. He wanted to affirm that it wasn’t just him. While his eyes didn’t work on Hera, he fancied that his natural charm still worked on her just fine.

“If you’re -kya!- talking about Hera, then yeah, she’s like, totally bitchy today.” Mine grumbled, yelping as she finally succeeded at getting the bag down. 

Kent made a displeased grunt of warning at the profanity.

“Grumpy, I mean. She  scowled  at me earlier when I asked her to get these for me!” Mine made a cute pouty face and demurred her posture to look pitiful.

“Restocking desert items is part of your responsibilities, not hers.” Kent corrected.

“Hpmh! Whatever. Let’s see how many customers she can please with  that  attitude.”

“Can you stop gossiping about dumb shit and get back to work.” Shin said, setting down a container of whipped cream a bit harder than necessary. As usual, he looked irritated.

Kent forwent correcting the profanity since he too wanted them to get back to work rather than conversing further.

Mine huffed and stalked out, forgetting to look like she was struggling to carry the heavy bag, holding it in one arm with ease. Ikki made an amused face and got the container of darjeeling that he had come in for originally and got to work brewing the tea.

 ---

 Not that Hera had begun the day with much in the way of patience, but right now she was dangerously close to losing it completely. Just one more hour of torture and she could go home to what was hopefully an apartment fully restored with power.

There were no windows in Meido no Histuji, which contributed to it’s cozy den-like atmosphere which inspired customers to relax in the dim lighting of the cafe. It was probably good for business, but Hera would have liked to have some windows simply for the fact that  maybe , she wouldn’t be dealing with a table of male customers who wanted more maidly services than she was willing to offer.

Since they probably wouldn’t feel so bold in the face of broad daylight.

Hera forced a polite smile and held the tray up higher so that it would block access to where her ample chest swelled her apron.

“Thank you for your kind words masters, but we don’t offer any of those kinds of services at this establishment.” She really should have been more cordial, but this was the wrong day for them to grope her. “It is stated quite clearly in our rules on the sign outside the cafe. Should you masters require some help to read it, I can gladly provide a chance to have my manager come personally reaffirm this.”

“You bitch, do you really think you’re in a position to make fun of us? Just provide us with proper service, it’s not that hard.”

“Right. Proper maids serve in silence with a smile.”

Were all teenage men this way? Horny, aggressive, and rude? Even her male coworkers were at least one of the three, considering Ikki’s womanizing, Shin’s rough speech and actions, and Kent’s cold and inconsiderate tendencies. At least Toma didn’t act that way, but he was like an annoying helicopter parent that liked to boss her around, which she appreciated even less.

Clicking the pen off, Hera decided to go get Waka instead of continue trying to take their order. 

“Sir?”

“What is it, Hera?”

“Customers at table three just groped me under the pretense of trying to check I was taking their order right sir.” Hera would usually sugarcoat the situation but right now she didn’t feel like it. “I told them we don’t provide those services but they obviously aren’t taking no for an answer. I figured it would be best for you to decide how to handle the situation. And if you don’t mind sir, I’d like to take my break now.”

Waka’s eyebrows skyrocketed at her tone - a far cry from her usual sweet gentle voice. Though with the situation at hand he didn’t blame her.

“I see. Permission granted. I’ll handle the situation, thank you for notifying me.” He pulled up his gloves and pushed up his glasses and made for table three, a dark aura following him.

Back in the break room, Hera was slumped on the couch, eating the apple and peanut butter sandwich she’d cobbled together this morning like it was a feast, lamenting the lack of the bento locked in the forbidden depths of her fridge.

She was hungry enough not to care though, and when she finished she laid all the way down on the couch and pressed her hands against her eyes, wishing her headache would just go away already. Her boob was also kinda sore where the guy had jabbed it in his attempt to get a handful.

When she heard the sound of the break room door click and open, she didn’t even bother to move.

“Hera.” Great. That sounded like Kent.

“What?” She didn’t bother to sit up. “I’m on break.”

That was when the smell of food - some kind of cheesy pasta, she guessed - hit her nose. It was so good that she couldn’t bring herself to be ashamed of how she instantly started salivating.

She peeped through her hands. It looked just as delicious as the man holding it. Not that she’d ever had a chance to taste him. Now  that  was a dangerous train of thought, especially since her crush on him was clearly unrequited. It was pretty clear Kent wasn’t interested in dating, so she’d kind of given up on trying and resigned herself to admire him on her own.

“I noticed you were moving twenty percent more slowly than normal and look at the food you were serving 5 times more than usual. This has led me to believe that you may be hungry, so I brought this for you. Before you ask, yes, Waka has permitted it.” Kent said, setting the plate down on the break table, along with a fork, napkin, and bottle of water.

Hera took her hands off her eyes and raised her eyebrows.

“Wow really? Thanks.” She sat up and took the plate forking a large bite. Letting out a low groan at the rich taste, she wasted no time shoveling fork to mouth. 

Kent was watching her with his usual impassive look. 

“Maybe it’s just because I’m hungry, but right now this feels like the best thing I’ve ever tasted. Or maybe you’re just a genius in the kitchen.”

“Prolonged periods of time without food can cause large amounts of serotonin to be released upon the breaking of such a fast as the body’s way of naturally encouraging the brain to eat to regain the appropriate amount of nutrients.” Kent explained. Though Hera hadn’t asked for the Fun Facts, she didn’t mind this habit of his.

“This is more likely what you are experiencing. Although the taste buds do experience changes throughout late childhood and early puberty, they remain the same throughout adulthood. At your age they would not have made a change capable of such an effect.”

“That’s cool.” Hera remarked, setting the plate down to drink some water, feeling better now that she had eaten. “Just don’t go telling me all the nutritional information of the pasta because then I’m gonna feel guilty.”

“Well actually-”

“Ahh! Stop stop!” She covered her ears and glared at him. “I just said don’t tell me, don’t be mean.”

Kent did something then that she swore she never would have believed if she hadn’t experienced it for herself.

He smiled at her.

It didn’t last long though, because all too soon his expression returned to neutral and he held out the water bottle insistently. 

“I need to get back to the kitchen. Make sure to drink it all or else you will get dehydrated from the sodium in the mozarella.”

Hera was left holding the bottle numbly, watching the door close after the tall young man. Slowly unscrewing the top, she placed the lip against her mouth and took a sip.

Did that really just happen?

 ---

 Blissfully wrapped up in a cozy green blanket, Hera was sipping on a box of pineapple juice from the comfort of her sofa, her laptop balanced on her lap.

Work was over, her headache was gone thanks to the power nap she’d taken when she got home, and she was well fed. She hadn’t fully forgotten about the disgusting experience of a stranger grabbing a handful of her right breast, but leveling up three times in  Riddlemaster was doing a good job of getting her mind off it. The trivia-based game was as mentally stimulating as it was fun, and getting the answers right made her feel smart.

Hera just liked this sort of thing. Finding out weird explanations for things was so satisfying for some reason. That’s why she’d decided to major in psychology. 

On to the next question! Just two more and she’d unlock the next level and earn another 500 gold coins.

  The picture above is a ______ because of 

a) jaw and teeth

b) snout shape

c) both a and b

 Taking a moment to study the picture, Hera was pretty confident the creature in the image was a crocodile. The creature in the picture had a kind of wide snout compared to other crocodiles, but she recognized the interlocking snaggleteeth that differed from alligators which had overbites.

Filling in  crocodile  in the blank, and selecting  a  she pressed submit.

 Correct!

 Hera grinned smugly at the upbeat chirp of the game as she got the answer right.

Alright, last one before she reached level 40! Oh she couldn’t wait for those 500 coins, that was enough to buy her avatar two new outfits! She already knew which one she wanted too. They’d recently released a Summer Festival set that had 3 different colors of yukata with a beautiful floral pattern.

Hera wanted the pink one with the gold hair ornament.

  Which number represents the rate at which rabbits reproduce? This is called ______.

a) x = 1 + 2/x

b) 3.14

c) 1/89

d) 6.2831853071

 Shit. Math, her weakness. Well, there was no time limit to figuring out the answers to the questions, so she usually just googled the subject of the question and tried to figure out what the answer was based on what she read…in the spirit of not being a cheater. But she really had no idea on this one.

Clearly the second option was pi, she knew that much. The first one looked like an equation, but it wasn’t one she recognized as being related to anything that could have to do with rabbit reproduction.

Twenty minutes later and several videos and wiki pages about rabbit production later, and all she really knew was that rabbits were horny and she was thoroughly stumped. None of the articles had even mentioned anything about numbers or math.

Hera bit her lip. She was so close to getting her Summer Festival outfit… and her pride refused to allow her to cheat. But the outfit was a limited time item that would be removed from the store during maintenance on the 15th of August. That was a little over a week from now, but she didn’t have all the time in the world.

Time for her last resort. The oldest one in the book, phone a friend! Well, text actually. Opening up her cell, she typed out a message to Sawa.

 To: SawaiiK From: Hera-oine7 Date: 8-04 7:49:00

Hey (^-^)/   I know u r usually taking ur time in the bath right abt now, but if u have time can I get your help on smthg?

 She opened up the Riddlemaster store page in another tab while waiting for a reply. Using the preview function, she removed the usual outfit her character wore (a greek style ‘goddess’ outfit she thought would suit it, since her ign was GoddessHera) and applied the Summer Festival outfit and began playing around with the colors of the trim and embroidery.

It was good motivation.

Her phone beeped from beside her and she sat up to retrieve it.

  Hera! <3 Haha, yeah I was, but aniki made so much of a fuss about having to piss that I decided to just get out rather than argue with him abt using the 3 other bathrms in the house… -_-

And sure watsup? U were acting odd @work today, u feeling ok?

 Oh right, she had been in a mood to go home without socializing in the changing room like usual, so Sawa was probably still reeling from her pricklyness towards Mine that morning. 

Writing quickly, she replied.

  Oh nah, it’s nothing like that, I’m fine. I was just tired lol.

 She contemplated adding “ of Mine’s shit ” but that wasn’t very nice. The two might not get along ever since Mine overheard Hera talking to Sawa about her crush on Kent, but she wasn’t mean enough for Hera to justify talking trash about the girl for no reason.

  I just need help with a question on Riddlemaster again hehe. (- 3-)’ Its abt math. 

 Hera sent it and sipped some of her juice.

  LOL u r so addicted to that game! But ya ofc I’ll help. Wats the question

 Hera took a picture of her laptop screen and just sent the image file through text. Would take a lot less time than retyping the whole question.

It took a few minutes before Sawa to reply.

  Ok well. I tried but i have umm no freaking clue lol. (^~^)’’’ Neither does aniki. This is probly higher difficulty than normal college math. ...hey u know who u should ask? ;)

 Dang. Well, she wasn’t surprised, considering her googling efforts had proven completely useless.

  Idk, who?

 It was times like these that she wished her parents hadn’t passed away without leaving her any siblings.

  He’s TALL, he’s handsome, he’s rlly good at math, and you now have the perfect excuse 2 hang out with him :)

 Oh. Kent. Hera considered it, crushing her juice box now that it was just bubbling noisily. 

She’d written countless texts to him about all sorts of things hoping to start a conversation and catch his attention, but she’d deleted all of them because they were stupid and the last person she wanted to laugh at her was Kent. Or god forbid, think she was clingy.

But this was actually a situation where her asking him this made complete logical sense, so it was pretty safe.

The problem was, how would she turn it into something that would last more than 2 messages? It would be such a waste to squander this perfect opportunity. Her phone chirped again.

  Do it do it do it do it do it!!! Hera!! No hesitation, get yo man!! 

 Hera laughed at the message, Sawa was probably interpreting her lack of a response as her convincing herself out of asking Kent.

  Alright fine. Pray 4 me. 

  YESSSsss!! Tell me how it goes! It’s time for dinner so I’ll ttyl :)

 Okay now… the hard part. Clicking out of Sawa’s contact, she scrolled down and clicked on Kent’s. 

 To: KentSJ94 From: Hera-oine7 Date: 8-04 7:58

Hey Kent, it’s Hera. There’s something I need some help with. It’s a math problem, sort of. Would you be willing to meet up with me to help me figure it out? I’m free this Sunday.

 Hera re-read the message several times, seriously debating sending it. Was she really going to do this? What if he thought she was annoying for bothering him? After a moment she added on-

  If not that’s okay.  

 That should cover her bases right? He probably didn’t like girls that were demanding. Okay time to have courage.

Her finger hovered over the send button.

Taking a deep breath, she squeezed her eyes shut and hit send. YOLO.

“Oh my god I can’t believe I actually sent it to him.” Making a noise of distress, she quickly closed her phone and put it under a pillow. “Ugh, why did I do that.”

She almost hoped he didn’t see it. Too bad you can only delete the sender side of texts.

Hera chewed nervously on the inside of her lip. Maybe she should go do something. Just sitting here looking at her phone was making her freak out. A bath like Sawa? But she didn’t want to be alone with her thoughts. A bath with loud music then. Maybe BOP bass boosted... and chocolate. Nice thing about being alone was that nobody could catch her stress eating.

She’d barely set a foot in the direction of the bathroom when her phone chirped. Hera was so wound up, it spooked her into a harsh jump.

She slowly picked up the phone with dread. 

“Lord have mercy.”

 Re: Hera-oine7 KentSJ94 Date: 8-04 8:05

I will be at my house on Sunday working on my thesis presentation. Come over and I will help you with your problem. Notify me if the issue requires preparation.

 Hera stared at her phone.

No way. It actually worked? He had actually agreed to help and was inviting her over to his house.

...Maybe she should go buy a lottery ticket too.

 Re: KentSJ94 Hera-oine7

Date: 8-04 8:07

  Thank you so much Kent! I really appreciate it. See you Sunday @12:00?

 His house wasn’t far away- she’d been there once before just outside when she’d asked to turn in some math assignments late due to being in the hospital for anemia before. She just wanted the extra time to doll herself up thoroughly before she got there. She wasn’t a morning person and well, go hard or go home.

His reply was very quick this time. That didn’t surprise her though, she figured he was the kind to stay on the phone until a conversation was finished. It struck her as the more “efficient” thing to do.

 Re: Hera-oine7

KentSJ94

Date: 8-04 8:08

Yes.

 Hera kinda wanted to laugh, it was so like him to respond like that. Well, brevity is the soul of wit and all that.

Looking back at the message history, she re-read Kent’s messages several times. There was this weird bubbly feeling in her chest that was giving her the urge to cover her face and squeal as loudly as possible. 

Hera resisted it of course. She wasn’t a kid. But she did let out a particularly happy noise on her way to the bathroom that could only be described as a giggle.

Sue her, she was a girl in love. Grabbing her chocolate, she made for the bathtub, intent on taking a celebratory bath this time. Which of course, required sweets.

[amandayuebing]

My Life is Very Shoujo Manga,  Chapter 15: Mooncake 🥮

The Tuesday following the party at Fukuda-sensei’s house was still mid-semester break, and Marianne invited me to have lunch with her. When Tony found out his girlfriend and I were having lunch together, he said he might join us later. I wasn’t sure how Marianne felt about him crashing our one-on-one girl time, but I was secretly glad he was joining.

Marianne and I did some walking and talking, and then we sat and talked during lunch. And boy, she talked to me about a lot of things…

She told me, girl-to-girl, how she totally understood if I didn’t want to do kendo anymore.

Although I could tell she had some genuine empathy for me, I did sense a wrinkle of jealousy and second-motive in her words. 

I knew I couldn’t blame her. Instead, I saw it as an opportunity to get her to trust me and be her friend. I didn’t see her as an enemy, as I knew why she felt the way she did.

She told me about how Tony used to be such an arrogant and annoying person before and how her first impression of him was, “who is this loud, annoying and obnoxious guy?” How he was cocky and just overall dislikeable. How I definitely wouldn’t have liked him back then. But in the three years that she knew him, she really understood him, and how he’d changed.

I tried to imagine this version of Tony that she told me about and felt a little bad when I struggled to see it, and worse when I thought to myself, “she’s right. I probably wouldn’t have liked him back then.”

But I knew that was exactly the game she was playing at.

She then asked me if I had a boyfriend. I felt like the correct answer would have been to lie and tell her I did. But I’ve never been great at lying, and if I was going to be her friend, what was the point in lying? So I told her, “no I don’t, actually.”

“Oh, no way! Why?” She sounded shocked but her facial expression gave off a totally different emotion.

Okay... that was definitely a bad move. 

I told her about my most recent crush (before Tony, of course). Because that was something I could talk about with her, and it was a true story...

I told her about the guy who was in his early 30s from South Africa, the Masters student who seemed very adventurous and even knew how to fly helicopters. The one who was incredibly cute, to top. The one all my female friends said looked like a cross between Zac Efron and Robert Downey Jr when I showed them pictures. (Jenny got to meet him in real life, too.) I showed Marianne the pictures. 

I told her a little bit about our story— not that there was much of a story. 

It was my first day moving on campus, my parents and just left and I was heading back to my apartment. I saw him running towards the elevator, so I kept the door open for him. 

We struck up an awkward conversation on the elevator (which he initiated), so I thought he wouldn’t want to continue talking to me, but to my surprise when the lift arrived on his floor, two floors below mine, he kept the door open to talk to me some more. 

When he had to go, he told me, “I would shake your hand, but I’m sick,” and because he was already dreamily cute, that small but thoughtful gesture had me swooning already. 

How we kind of kept in touch for a while. Our exchanges were flirtatious and fun, but we never got to a serious stage. It soon stopped shortly after his trip back to South Africa because we soon figured out we were really different. (And someone my dad would disapprove of, anyway.)

I laughed and told her about how my dad as well as having very particular standards about the people I was allowed to associate with, he sometimes could just dislike someone because he believed he could read faces, and if he disliked someone’s face, you couldn’t change your mind about them afterwards. But Dad disliked this guy before he even met him so...

Marianne said her father was the same, which was why she hadn’t introduced Tony to her parents yet. Only told them about him. If her dad didn’t like Tony, that would be it.

“But you haven’t dated since? Has there been any boys who you’ve been eyeing, though 😉?”

“I mean, it wasn’t that long ago... And it’s hard to find guys who can impress me like that. 

“Sean was cute, and polite, treated me well. He was interesting and clever, and we had great conversations. He was accomplished, had an interesting life and the added bonus of being wealthy and being able to fly helicopters. 

“Like, there was nothing to complain about! Except for the fact we were different, and that’s fine. I’m waiting for a guy who can make me feel something special like that, but be right for me.” All that was true, except, of course, I was omitting something important... 

Marianne then talked about the other people in the kendo club she was close with. How Hugh-sensei was like a big brother to her, and Chad was like a gay best friend. How either of them would support her completely if anyone were to hurt her, such as Tony… 

I knew what she was trying to do, but I played it cool. 

I told her that I did think Hugh-sensei was really nice, as he had talked to me after the party. How because of his advice, I no longer had the intention of quitting.

That he was right, and that I still felt like I could learn and benefit a lot from continuing kendo, such as trying to become a more confident person.

As well as all the threatening-sounding stuff, we also had girl-talks about topics from uni, to makeup, to celebrities, how we both wanted children in the future etc. I actually enjoyed spending time with her. 

We walked to Messina at The Star for ice-cream, where Tony joined us. When he walked towards us, I- 

I was speechless about how finee he looked that day. 

The inner me was drooling. Oh my god. I couldn’t help but say how surprised I was to Marianne.

“Wow, something about him is so different today! He looks really good in those clothes.” 

I also said it when he approached. (He was dressed in casual jeans and a t-shirt instead of the usual hakama and gi or UTS Kendo tracksuit.) Marianne also said she was surprised.

Seeing the way the two interacted that afternoon, I felt like I didn’t want to interfere with their relationship. I felt happy being by both their sides.

But I knew it would take some time to get over him… It’s going to be hard getting over such a cool guy, Amanda, but he’s not for you…

We walked to his house to get his kendo gear, as he lived only a short distance away. While walking there, Tony turned around and said, “what are you spacing out for, with your mouth slightly open like that?” Oh my god, that was embarrassing. I didn’t even notice until then that I had a habit of leaving my lips slightly parted as my resting face until then! Well, I kind of did… It wasn’t something I thought about often, until then.

When we arrived at the front of Tony’s house, Marianne refused to go inside unless I went in with her. Apparently, Tony’s mother hated Marianne. Her trepidation to go inside also made me really nervous… But Tony told us not to worry, as it wasn’t a big deal, and his mother probably wasn’t even at home.

“It’s not that she hates you,” he began explaining. “She disapproves of all the girls I bring home.” I wasn’t sure whether that was meant to comfort Marianne. I’m also pretty sure it didn’t work. Thanks, Tony.

But Marianne was convinced his mother hated her. Tony explained again, that his mother didn’t hate Marianne, but disapproved of him choosing a non-Chinese girlfriend. Although I was half-Chinese and not even his girlfriend, I was terrified of her too.

We arrived and he told us to wait in the living room at the front, on the couch while he went upstairs to get his gear. I took off my shoes and came inside.

I looked around at his house; it was modern, sleek and had a lot of natural sunlight coming in from the large windows surrounding an internal courtyard in the middle of his house. Across from the courtyard, in his dining room gracefully sat a woman with a stylish, black, pixie-cut and pale skin, just like Tony’s. She was gorgeous.

“Ma, I have two friends here. I’m just here to grab my stuff and to go to kendo,” he shouted as he walked past us to get up the stairs. He nudged me on the way, and gave Marianne a look, “hey, say hi to my mum.”

“Hi, Mrs Liu,” we both greeted her. I bowed my head slightly before joining Marianne on the couch.

Tony’s mum said something to him in a dialect I couldn’t understand, and a short while later, Tony brought us mooncake with lotus seed paste that was sliced into four for Marianne and I. I looked at it eagerly but waited for everyone else to take a slice first. I love mooncake.

Marianne refused to eat any, and said, “I don’t like Chinese food.” 

“What?” Tony said, a little hurt, a little annoyed. “This is the good stuff. It’s expensive, and my mum sliced it up especially for you guys to eat.”

“No, I hate mooncake.”

“Not all mooncakes are the same, though. There are different fillings. Here, at least try som--”

“No!! Stop trying to force me to eat it! I’ve tried it before. It makes me want to vomit. I can’t stand eating mooncake! I HATE it!”

“Alright, fine.” Tony said curtly.

It made me wonder how she was going to cope with being part of a Chinese family one day if she and Tony became more serious…

I guess if they really loved each other, they’d find a way to work past their differences…

[rumbelleshowdown]

When the Smoke Clears

Author: Peach Prosecco Prompts: twenty-hour only allies; when the smoke clears; RPG video game Group: M

"Rumple? Gideon?" Where were they? Belle couldn’t find either of them in the billowing purple smoke.

"I'm here, Belle." She heard Rumple reply just as the smoke began to clear.

“Where's Gideon?!” She didn’t know how they’d ended up in the Dark Castle dungeon… She just knew that their son was nowhere to be seen.

Gold moved to her side and took her hands in his. "Gideon’s safe at home. He was creating his own characters and story for that new fairy tale video game we gave him, and, um, he somehow trapped us in it."

"What? How?" She and Rumple had been at odds all day over Gideon's burgeoning magical powers and now this had happened. Belle’s anger was eclipsed only by her fear for her family. "How are we going to get out? Gideon's all alone...” Tears began to trickle down her cheeks.

"Listen to me." Gold tightened his grip on her. "We're going to have to play the game and hope that it leads us back to Gideon."

Belle tried to pull away from him. "I knew his magic would lead to trouble,” she sobbed.

"Belle, it won’t do us any good to argue now. We're going to have to work together, as allies so to speak, for the next 10 minutes or 20 hours... however long it takes to find our way out of here. After that we can argue as much as you’d like."

Belle sniffled. She knew he was right. Now was not the time for blame. They had to find their way out and they had to do it as quickly as possible. Her poor baby was home alone, probably terrified over what had happened. She took a deep breath to calm herself. “OK… So what do we need to do?”

Gold cleared his throat. He was as worried as she was. “The object of the game is to find the item in each room of the castle that triggers the magic that transports you to the next room. When you find the final item, you win the game… For us, that will mean we return home to Gideon.”

“Got it.” Belle surveyed the dungeon while wiping the tears from her eyes. “There’s nothing here, Rumple, except for some straw and a blanket.”

“And the pillow I gave you to stifle your crying.” Gold retrieved it from under the blanket and handed it to her.

“You mean to make me more comfortable,” Belle corrected him. “You forget that I saw right through you from the beginning.” She smiled in spite of herself.

Gold chuckled. “Details…” He smiled back at her. “Now we have to use it in a way that will activate the magic to move us forward.”

He placed the pillow on the straw so that Belle could rest her head on it. When that didn’t work, Gold lay down beside her. As soon as his head hit the pillow, purple smoke surrounded them and carried them to the library.

“Your second gift to me,” Belle reminded him when she realized where they’d landed.

“One that you were supposed to keep dust-free.” He swatted the air dramatically and coughed.

She giggled and then turned serious. “There are so many books in here. How are we supposed to find the right one?”

Gold pointed to the settee where a copy of ‘Her Handsome Hero’ was resting. “I think that’s a good start.”

Belle scooped up her favorite book and held it close to her chest. She felt the tears forming again as she thought of Gideon.

“Why don’t you read me your favorite passage?” Gold suggested.

Belle nodded, turning to the paragraph that she’d read repeatedly to their beautiful boy. She fought back the tears as she spoke.

Her last few words, “…but Gideon was unafraid”, triggered the purple smoke that swept them away once again, landing them outside the castle door.

It took them several seconds to get their bearings. “Was this supposed to happen? We’re no longer in the castle.” Belle’s voice betrayed her concern.

Gold hesitated until he saw a rose lying on the ground. He discreetly picked it up and hid it behind his back.

“Belle.”

She turned toward him with a question in her eyes.

“Here.” He presented the rose to her. “If you’ll have it.”

Belle’s face lit up. “Why, thank you.” She accepted the rose with a curtsey while Gold bowed in return. Purple smoke appeared and whisked them off to Rumple’s tower.

They both groaned when they realized where they were. The room was a cluttered mess of books, vials, bottles, manuscripts, and other magical items. It would be a Herculean task to sort through everything.

“Oh, Rumple.” Belle sighed in defeat and frustration. “We’re never going to get out of here.”

“That’s not true.” Gold was determined to sound hopeful. “We just have to be smart about this. The video game is about you and me so the objects we’re looking for have to mean something to us.”

“You’re right.” Belle rallied her spirits. “But what can be significant to us in here? You never let me enter the tower.”

 “Let’s not give up so easily. Look around, Belle. There has to be something.”

They began scouring the room, sorting through an endless array of items.

“I think I found it.” Belle held up the gauntlet. “The item that almost ended us for good.”

“Yes,” Gold admitted, “but the gauntlet would have never lead to you, Belle. The dagger was my greatest weakness, but it wasn’t what I loved most. That was always you, Belle… only you’re not my greatest weakness – you’re my greatest strength.”

A mix of emotions flashed across Belle’s face as purple smoke engulfed them. They found themselves in the Great Hall when it disappeared.

Belle was still reeling from the revelation about the gauntlet when she was brought up short by the sight of shattered glass everywhere. “What happened here?”

Before Gold could answer, Belle squealed. “Our chipped cup!” She rescued it from the table and cradled it in her hands. “It’s the only thing that’s not destroyed!”

“I could never destroy this cup, Belle.” He took it from her and walked over to the pedestal where the Holy Grail still sat undisturbed. He removed the chalice, replaced it with the cup, and then turned to Belle. “It was my most cherished possession.”

A sob caught in Belle’s throat as she flung her herself into his arms and kissed him.

Purple smoke began to swirl rapidly around them. Belle broke the kiss to look at him.

“Kiss me again, Belle. It’s working.”

When they broke their second kiss, the smoke had cleared, and they were standing in the middle of their living room back in Storybrooke.

“Not bad… It only took you 112 minutes to find your way out.” Gideon’s words startled Belle and confirmed everything she had suspected.

“Gideon Gregory Gold! You gave your father and me the scare of our lives!” She attempted to berate him while rushing over to hug him tightly.

“I’m sorry, Mom. I just wanted the two of you to stop fighting.”

“Who said we were fighting?” It was true, but they were always careful not to argue in their son’s presence.

Gideon rolled his eyes. “You didn’t kiss or hug each other at all today. That’s not normal for you. You’re usually all over each other.”

Belle was appalled. She hoped they weren’t traumatizing their son with their constant displays of affection.

“I’m sorry, Gideon. I know kids your age don’t like to see their parents being affectionate.”

 “Nah… I don’t mind. I’m used to it by now. It lets me know that everything’s OK.”

 Belle was relieved. “Well, I’m glad, but we still have a lot to discuss about all of this.”

“Yes, mom.” Gideon’s eyes begged her for forgiveness.

“Your mother and I know you meant no harm, son, and your game was very clever,” Gold added, “but so much could have gone wrong.” He placed his hand on Gideon’s shoulder. “I do have one question about the game though… Did you forget about the ladder? You know how central it was to our story.”

“I know, papa. I didn’t forget... but I thought you were getting too old for that. I didn’t want you to get hurt.”

The look on Gold’s face sent Belle into a fit of giggles. When she finally got her breath back, she drew Gold and Gideon into a big family hug.

 “Your father does alright for someone his age.” Belle locked eyes with Gold and bit her lower lip. “Now let’s celebrate that we’re all back together.”

“Does that mean I can have the ice cream sundae you promised me earlier?” Gideon asked.

“Yes, sweetheart.” Gideon could have his treat now… and Rumple could have his later. She’d let him prove to her that age was just a number. Any further discussion about Gideon’s magic could wait until tomorrow.

###

[marblesarelost]

Change Your Mind, Change Your Life

                                        CHAPTER THREE

“Lord Protector Von Doom?”  He looked up from the customs official to see a very…plain…gentleman coming toward him, dressed in a fairly decent, yet nondescript suit and tie.  A receding hairline, worry lines around his eyes, he wore a professional smile as a mask.  “I’m Director Philip Coulson.  I spoke to your --“

“Seneschal,” Doom agreed. “Martin.  Yes, I was informed you and your associates were to act as my escort.”

“Security detail, your Grace,” Director Coulson gently corrected.  “Not that you need one, of course.”

“No.  I don’t,” Victor replied.  “But I am…loath to disrespect the hospitality and courtesy of the United States and the United Nations, and so I accept your gracious offer.”

“Thank you, your Grace. Did you bring an entourage?”

“No; I have no need of such things.  The Latverian Embassy will see to my needs and desires,” Victor said, signing the last paper with a flourish.  “I must wait for my baggage, Director, and then I will be ready to leave.”

“Of course.  May I ask if you were wishing to do anything else during the time you’re here?  I know your advisor told me you’d be in New York for a week, so…” Director Coulson let his sentence fade.

“I do not know.  I had hoped perhaps to have a word with Iron Man, and King Namor is to arrive tomorrow; we may wish to see a show.  I have heard very good things about this Hamilton play.”

“Hamilton’s amazing,” Director Coulson said, his smile becoming larger and much more genuine. “Lin-Manuel Miranda is a national treasure.”

“Your President had made some noise of wishing to meet with me, but I really rather would not; I have dealt with Mr. Trump before in business matters, and found him to be boorish and inelegant.  I rather doubt that attaining the presidency has changed matters.”  

“President Trump is currently at Mar-A-Lago, your Grace.  I’ll inform you if that changes,” the director offered, his mouth closing, lips becoming thin; ah.  Victor could read between those lines very well; there was no love lost, but the man would say nothing against his ruler.  Good.  

Several more agents joined them as the Director led the way through a private hallway, two women, one whose very essence radiated danger, much as the Black Widow; the other was younger, but she moved with an efficiency close to the first.  Probably her protégé.  “Agent May, Agent Johnson,” the director introduced them.  “Agent Mackenzie is waiting outside.”

“Excellent.   One moment, if you would?”  At the director’s nod, Victor gestured to the two diplomats waiting for him.  “Have my luggage delivered to the embassy; the Director has come to collect me himself, and I do not wish to insult him.”

“Yes, Lord Protector,” came the expected answer, and a few minutes later, he was in the bulletproof limo with Agent May and Director Coulson.  Agent Johnson was in the front passenger seat beside Agent Mckenzie. The ride passed pleasantly for some few minutes before Director Coulson cleared his throat, leaning forward from the rumble seat.

“I don’t mean to presume, Lord Protector, but I wonder if you’d be willing to talk about the incident last week?  In the bay?”

“What is it you wish to know?”  Victor answered pleasantly; the man was courteous and deferential enough, it was of no matter to speak to him about the occurrence.

“Dr. Richards’ actions,” Director Coulson began.  “Iron Man described them as being dangerous.  Would you agree with that assessment?”

“Reed is an obnoxious twit,” Victor replied.  “We have been at odds for a very long time, and unfortunately, I do not see that set of circumstances ever changing.”

“Yes, I’m well aware of your common history,” Coulson nodded.  “But Iron Man claims, and the footage bears it out, that he was willing to go through Iron Man to get to you.”

“That is Richards’ problem. Not mine.  Not unless he makes it mine,” Victor said, closing his eyes at the sound of the edge to his voice.  “Forgive me.  We do have a great deal of agitated history between us, and it is easy to slip into old thought patterns and habits when speaking of him or his possible intentions.”

“Of course.  I have the same reaction when it comes to certain people,” Coulson said easily.  “I simply want to avoid any unpleasantness between you and the FF during your stay if we can at all.”

“I give you my word, Director Coulson.  Any unpleasantness that arises will find the blame laid at their feet, not my own.  I am…I dare not say a new man.  But I am endeavoring to become a better man than I have been, and a large part of that change means that I do not begin physical altercations.  I may well finish them,” he added, chuckling, “but I refuse to allow others the satisfaction of knowing that they provoked me into swinging first, as it were.”

“Fair enough,” Coulson agreed, nodding.  “Okay.”

  His heart, the heart he hid as best he could, fell as he saw the protestors outside the Latverian Embassy. Dozens of them, holding signs that protested his reign over his country.  L.A.F.F., Latverian-Americans For Freedom.  He knew of the group.  Most of the time, they held non-violent protests, though his intelligence said that there had been a few altercations with his diplomats and the robots that guarded the embassy over the last few years.

“I hope that after tomorrow, they’ll be celebrating,” Director Coulson said softly as the gates of the embassy opened, the robot guardians keeping the protestors away.

“That is my hope as well, but I dare not count on it,” Victor sighed.  “They will instead begin a conspiracy theory that I am doing this only for good publicity, and that I must have some sort of nefarious plot, that I am drawing the wool over the U.N.’s eyes.  It is a fair assumption for them to come to.”

“You’ve never gone this far before,” Agent May spoke for the first time.  “You’ve never come to the U.N. to ask for aid before in anything, not even after the earthquake several years ago.”

“No,” he agreed; that natural disaster had been horrible, especially in some of the mountain region villages.  “No. Latveria takes care of its own.” Weeks of rescue efforts, then years of rebuilding.  He had refused all offers of aid, setting the robots to find and rescue those trapped under rubble, had rushed doctors from the hospitals of Doomstadt, including his own personal doctors, to the sites where they were needed.  

The car stopped, the door opened by one of the robots, the ambassador to the United States, Aleksander, coming to greet him, dropping to one knee deferentially as he got out of the car.  “Lord Protector.”

“Aleksander.  You may rise,” he nodded graciously.  “Have the rooms I ordered prepared for King Namor been so?”

“They have, my Lord.”

“Excellent.  The salt-water pool?”

“Is ready for him.”

“Good.  Director Coulson, I will expect you and your agents tomorrow morning at nine-thirty; my appointment with the Council is at ten-thirty.”

“Yes, your Grace.  See you then.”  An acceptable answer, as the car drove on to the circle to turn around he entered the embassy building, going directly to the throne awaiting him and taking his seat.

“Report.”

“The U.N. is curious, of course, and is already gathering the teams necessary for your request, my Lord. We have received several invitations for you from the Chernayan and Symkarian Embassies, and a request for an audience from Anthony Stark and Steven Rogers.”

“Iron Man and Captain America,” Victor said thoughtfully.  “When did that arrive?”

“Yesterday evening, sire.”

“Inform the Chernayan and Symkarian Embassies that I would be happy to visit and renew my acquaintance with Lady Finitaz and Mr. Daru at their convenience, after tomorrow. Inform them I will ask King Namor to accompany me, but he may or may not do so.  Do you have the number for Mr. Stark?”

“I do, sir.”

“Bring me a telephone.”

 Darcy put her makeup on very, very carefully the next morning, trying to keep her hands from shaking too much as she applied her eyeliner.  She was going to the U.N. to observe the meeting between Von Doom and the Elections Committee, along with Tony, Steve, Natasha and Clint, as the political liaison for the Avengers Initiative.  Her navy blue suit still fit her like a glove, accentuating her hourglass figure, her wire rimmed glasses adding a hint of sophistication, her eyes looking just a hint bigger than usual thanks to a clever trick with her makeup.

The Avengers away team, as she was thinking of them this morning, were all in mufti; Tony in a divine cream colored suit with a sky blue tie, probably Italian, Natasha in a suit not unlike hers, though she was sure that ‘Tasha’s had special pockets for hidden weapons.  Clint and Steve both wore suit pants and blazers, though they had both skipped the ties. ‘Tasha smiled when she saw Darcy coming, holding up a hand and twirling a finger; dutifully, Darcy slowly turned around.  “Lovely. You are lovely and professional this morning,” Natasha began, then looked down at her feet.  “And those are good shoes.  Expensive enough to respect, cheap enough to leave behind if you have to run.”  Darcy looked down at her Sandro Mary Janes with a sad smile.

“Yeah, that was kind of my thought,” she sighed in agreement.  “But better to lose the shoes than my head, right?”

“Exactly,” Natasha nodded before turning on the men.  “We will meet you all at the car.”  Darcy took Natasha’s left arm, and the two women walked on toward the elevator, leaving the men slightly gobsmacked before they caught on and caught up with them.

 They entered the building through a private underground garage, riding up in an elevator that smelled slightly of freesia.  The floor they got off on could have been in any luxury office building, the carpet a soft muted gray, the walls fairly nondescript, a muted green wallpaper with a darker green zigzag line pattern.  The art that was hung here and there were landscapes, for the most part, though they passed by more than one photograph study as well, again, landscapes.  The Sahara.  The Congo.  Madripoor. The Alps.

They weren’t the first arrivals in the conference room they were led to; a few diplomats were already seated at the long oak table.  They looked up as the group entered, but turned their attention back to the laptops and tablets in front of them when it was obvious they were observers rather than participants.  Tony took a seat in one of the chairs lining the inner wall, and the rest followed suit, Darcy at the end farthest from the door and away from the windows at Clint’s insistence.  

While they waited, Darcy took a selfie for her Instagram and Twitter, #U.N. #she blinded me with political science, then switched to her audio recorder app; she wanted to record what was said so she could go over it later.  It was only about another five minutes before the room started filling up, other diplomats arriving both as more observers and the committee itself. And then they walked in.

Darcy had never met Namor or Doom, but the moment they entered, the room fell silent.  Both men carried themselves with a regal presence, aware of their importance, aware of their stature, they both had a confidence in their body language that could easily be mistaken for cockiness.  Doom was, of course, in his armor, but instead of the normal green cloak that he seemed to be so fond of, he wore a deep royal purple tunic and cape over it, the tunic belted at the waist, his metal boots and gloves trimmed in ermine.  A heavy looking, thick linked golden chain hung around his neck, a medallion falling from it square in the midst of his chest; the crown jewel of Latveria, his chain of office.

Namor, on the other hand, was sin on two legs.  His black hair was slicked back, and he smirked as he looked around the room, wearing a dark gray suit, Hugo Boss, if she wasn’t mistaken, though his feet were bare, as was his custom due to the wings that sprouted from his ankles.  He took a chair just to Von Doom’s left, and Darcy noticed as he passed behind Doom that one hand rose, just a bit -- was he actually patting Doom on the back?  Giving the man reassurance?  Interesting. “Namor his friend?  Patted his back maybe prior 2 conf.  Consider later,” she scribbled on her notepad.

“I wish to thank the council for granting me an audience on such short notice,” Doom began, still standing at the head of the table, his voice rumbling and deep, and oh God maybe Namor was sex on LEGS, but Doom’s VOICE was sex for her ears.  “I understand that this was very much an inconvenience, and I wish you to know that I personally, and the Latverian people, appreciate your time.”  He took a seat beside Namor, and the committee began questioning him directly.  What did he want to see happen?  How long a time frame did he project from beginning to end? Would he allow investigational and educational teams into Latveria?  Those questions and more in the same vein went on for about an hour, Doom answering them all patiently, sometimes taking a few seconds to consider his words before he responded, but never once becoming short or irritable so far as Darcy could tell.

When the meeting was officially over, some members of the committee lingered for a few minutes, speaking to Doom or Namor quietly before leaving the room with the other observers. Darcy gathered her things, but Clint brushed against her arm, flattened his palm and pushed out; wait, that motion meant, so she didn’t get up.  Finally, the only people left in the room were Doom, Namor, and the Avengers group. Tony got up first, extending his hand. “Ruler Protector Von Doom.”

“Mr. Stark.”  The two shook hands, and then Tony shook with Namor as well before Doom spoke again.  “I was very glad to see you and your colleagues here.  But I do not think I recognize the young lady beside Mr. Barton? Have the Avengers grown again?” Darcy’s mouth grew dry as Tony turned, jerking his head.  Slowly, she rose and went to stand beside him, barely remembering to drop a discreet curtsy before the two kings; well, Doom was practically a king, wasn’t he?

“Our political analyst, Darcy Lewis,” Tony introduced her.  “She’s a firecracker.”

“Indeed,” Namor murmured, his sea green eyes deep, but just a little cold, if she didn’t miss her guess. Aww, sexy, no.  “You have a way of surrounding yourself with beautiful women, Anthony.”

“It’s a gift,” Tony smirked.

“An honor to meet you both, your Majesty, your Grace,” Darcy managed to say as Namor took the hand she extended, raising it gently as if to kiss the back, though he never actually did so. “I’m so glad to have the opportunity.” She offered her hand to Doom next; he didn’t affect the same flirtatiously courtly manner as Namor, however, only shaking firmly.  He had brown eyes behind the mask, she noted, and they looked very tired.

“A pleasure, Miss Lewis.”

“So,” Tony clapped his hands and rubbed them together, “did you both get the invitations?”

“We did,” Namor replied, inclining his head.  “I do not speak for Victor, but I for one would be happy to attend your soiree, Anthony. You always throw the best parties.”

“Awesome, show up anytime between eight and ten.  How about you, Doom?”

“I…appreciate the invitation, though I must reluctantly decline; let us be frank, Mr. Stark, my presence might cause your other guests some discomfort.”  Doom’s mask tilted downward just a fraction as he spoke, and Darcy could read between those lines.  She could read between those lines all too well.  He didn’t expect to be welcomed, and rightfully so; he had done horrible things.  More, he knew he had done horrible things.  And, she realized, he was ashamed.

“Lord Protector, perhaps just a token appearance?”  She heard herself say before she thought.  “At least amongst the main party.  Tony’s penthouse is huge, surely we could find a quiet space for you to people watch, at least.  And I would love to hear more about the changes you’re planning in Latveria.” His mask shot towards her, those tired brown eyes flaring, seeking, searching through her long enough that her lips parted, intending to apologize for the intrusion.

“Perhaps, Miss Lewis. I will at least consider it.  And I do indeed appreciate the invitation, Mr. Stark.”

“Call me Tony, Mr. Stark was my dad,” Tony said, a little flippantly.  “You’ve got my number; if you plan on flying, call first so I can have the security measures turned off on the jetpad.  See you tomorrow night.”  He flipped his glasses back down, giving both men a grin, before taking Darcy’s arm and heading for the door, the rest of the group following them out of the conference room and toward the elevator.  “Good job, Sparky,” he said lowly.  “Did you see what I saw?”

“I think so,” Darcy breathed.  “He’s tired, Tony.  And he’s lonely.”

“Everybody’s lonely, honey. In their heart of hearts.”

“Yeah.  Yeah, but…but you’ve got Pepper now, and you’ve got us,” she said, glancing over her shoulder to see how close the others were.  Still about five feet back.  “And you’re loved, Tony.  You really are.”  She couldn’t see his eyes through his sunglasses, but his lips and nose twitched, just a little, and his grip on her arm tightened.

“Thanks, Artoo.”

“No problem, Threepio.”

“Dammit, I’m Han,” Tony sighed as the others caught up.  “Or maybe Lando.”

“You are so wrong about that.  You’re a suave-ass con, all right, but you can’t pull off a cape.”  Clint snickered, Natasha smirked, as they all boarded the elevator.

[startinginorange]

Trans Rvb Week - Tuesday Pt 2

Wash realized he was trans fairly young, actually. He was still in preschool school when he first began to tell people he was boy- tell people fairly indiscriminately, too. 

He told his parents, he told his teacher, he told his classmates, he told the lady who served him ice-cream from a food truck once. She hadn’t misgendered him, or mentioned his gender at all, she just handed him the ice-cream with a smile and he said, “Thanks! I’m a boy!”

His mom wasn’t very amused, but the lady in question found it amusing and adorable. 

Not that his mom wasn’t supportive- his dad had difficulty with it sometimes, but his mom was there. she was just very serious about the whole thing in general. 

“Honey,” she began as they made their way over to a shady bench. “You told that woman you were a boy, just like you’ve been telling me and daddy that you’re a boy.”

He nods and makes an obligatory noise, too busy trying to eat his entire ice-cream scoop in one bite than to really answer her. He wasn’t sure what she was asking, anyway. Of course he told people he was a boy. It felt good to say, it felt true.

His mom paused, possibly expecting more, but when it became obvious that was all she was getting she began to speak again.

“You know,” she said, “if the doctors told us you were a boy we were going to name you David. Do you like that name?”

He stops eating his ice-cream to consider this question, because it seemed important. Names were important, right? That’s why you had to know all of them. 

It doesn’t take him too long to come up with an answer, though. 

“Yeah!” 

His mom smiles and speaks, with the kind of look and expression that you don’t understand as a kid. It’s only when you look back on it that you can actually see how much love is there. 

“Would you like us to call you David, honey?”

David stops eating entirely to look over at his mom. He was absolutely shocked. He didn’t even realize that you could do that- names seemed so permanent. 

He nods as vigorously as he can. “Yes!” Remembering his manners he adds, “Please!”

His mother’s smile somehow softens even more. “All right then, honey.”

“David now,” he corrects, and his mother laughs. 

“You’ll still be honey to me, even if your name were Tutankhamun,” she teases. 

His father was resistant to the change, but she convinced him eventually. Everyone else took it remarkably well. Sometimes there were administrative mix-ups and teachers would say the wrong name at first and sometimes doctors would use the wrong pronouns, but they always changed after being corrected. No one had real problems with it. 

No one until Cecil Kyle.

Warning for transphobia, bullying, and mild violence under the cut

Cecil Kyle was always cruel about it, from the very first day when the teacher said the wrong name. 

It would be easier if he were dumb, if he just repeated the same things over and over again and everyone just ignored him, but despite his ignorance and prejudice Kyle was actually sort of clever. He came up with witty things to say, well witty by elementary school standards, that everyone loved to repeat. Little singsong things and slogans.

David even caught a couple of his “friends” repeating them occasionally, and when he asked about it they just brushed it off. It was funny and catchy, couldn’t David understand?

He did understand, and that was the hard part. It was so easy to come out when he was young, back then it was all the excitement of the realization and the joy of sharing it. The messages from the jokes and advertisements and his father’s occasional muttered comments hadn’t sank in yet. 

But now, thanks to Cecil Kyle, they wormed their way into his heart with a vengeance. For the first time he learned shame. He asked his teacher to call him by his legal name again and asked his mom to buy him some more feminine clothes to try to get it to stop, but at first that just made it change tone. 

His mother was concerned, she started being concerned when he began asking for more sick days and cutting class, but he refused to tell her what was going on. She already looked so worried and he knew if he tried to tell her he was going to cry, and boys didn’t cry, and he knew he didn’t have the words to communicate the depth of it. Not that he fully understood these reasons, he just knew that there was a reluctance to tell her in his heart too strong to get past. 

When he asked for the girl clothes his mother became more worried, but his father was relieved. He’d always respectful David’s clothing requests, but now he was actually happy about them. 

David never got anything too feminine, he couldn’t stand it, but he chose what he could out of the girl’s section of the store. 

He tried and he tried and the worst part was the Cecil Kyle didn’t care. He didn’t seem to care about anything. Cecil didn’t care when the teacher sent him to detention, apparently his parents didn’t mind, or when David called him names right back. He didn’t even seem to care when David punched him once- he smiled as David got sent to detention for the first time. 

It was the helplessness that really got to David, that he had all this anger and pain that he just wanted it to stop or to make Cecil Kyle feel an ounce of it but he couldn’t. All he could do was hold it in, go back into the closet, and hope. 

David learned not to respond and eventually Cecil Kyle got bored of him and moved on, but it took David years of classes without Cecil Kyle or his own ex-friends in them to slowly start coming out again. To re-find his own identity and the joy it brought him behind the pain and shame.

But the thing about hunkering down, not responding, just doing what they wanted him to do and hoping, the thing about taking the “don’t let it get to you” approach is that it still does get to you. You can’t stop it from getting to you. You just can’t express any of how it does. You don’t stop yourself from being angry or hurt- you just push it down and put on a calm facade to survive. 

So even when David healed enough to find himself again and come out the hurt was still there. The pain and the anger. It never left, it never could. 

The next time David saw Cecil Kyle was in the eighth grade boys bathroom. 

David stopped, he halted like a deer in the headlights. There he was, the boogyman of David’s childhood, washing his hands in the sink. David’s still frozen when Cecil saw him in the mirror. 

David saw the recognition in Cecil’s eyes before he started to speak.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I thought I was in the boys bathroom,” he said. “Or did you forget that you’re a girl again?”

Cecil continued talking, but David didn’t hear it. He couldn’t hear anything but his own heartbeat and he could barely see beyond his own anger. He was shaking and Cecil Kyle was just standing there talking like this was fifth grade and he was untouchable. 

But he wasn’t untouchable. He couldn’t be. David had grown and healed and when he balled his fists up he felt nothing like the kid in that fifth grade class who had never even gotten detention. His mom had gotten him self-defense lessons since then, and it was time to defend himself. 

He pounced forward and slammed Cecil into the wall, using a defensive hold he learned. Well, that was what he’d tried to do. In his anger David had forgotten his surroundings, and he ended up slamming him over the sink and crushing the side of his face into the mirror.

Cecil screamed, and a teacher came running in. 

After that there was an ambulance, police, and a million questions. David went through it all in a haze. His mom came and he didn’t even remember what he said to her, but she argued with the police and the school on his behalf. 

David looked at his hands and, for all of his guilt, couldn’t help but feel some lightness in his chest. He wasn’t helpless anymore. 

He signed up for the military when he was 18. His parents had been supportive, but they couldn’t afford any of the transitional care David had needed, had barely been able to afford to get him new binders when the old ones came out and neither of them had insurance that covered transitional care for minors. David needed a job, and the military health insurance packets was one of the best. 

But it wasn’t just for that. Humanity was in a war, in a war against an enemy that made them seem powerless. A desperate war for survival, and David knew what that felt like on a smaller scale. He didn’t want to be helpless, but he didn’t want to hurt people that didn’t deserve it, so he joined the military because he trusted them to be doing the right thing. 

Later on he would look at that trust and shake his head. 

Later on he would end up trapped by an enemy he thought he could trust, a program without any supervision and enough funding to get better lawyers than he ever could. A program that had too much weight to ever be threatened by a soldier who’d been declared legally insane and diagnosed with paranoia, one that Wash knew would kill him if he even tried to fight back. 

Another bully that made him feel powerless, but Wash knew how to deal with it now. He kept his head down, he kept his emotions in, he played sane and calm as best he could. He waited until they trusted him again because he knew, he knew that the day was coming when they would mess up and no longer be as powerful as they seemed. 

Another bully had broken him, but just like last time Wash didn’t stay broken. He remembered who he was, even if he knew he wasn’t the same person he had been. He healed crooked and practiced fighting until his knuckles bled. 

The Director and the Counselor thought they had the upper hand, but Wash knew how to survive.