#yes i am feeling a wee bit salty today

[woobie-wan]

#james somerton #if someone had just shown me these two tweets years ago i could have saved some cash #yes i am feeling a wee bit salty today

[sablelab]

Covert Operations - Chapter 141

SYNOPSIS: Jamie and Claire sail on to the picture-perfect Whitehaven Beach where Jamie has organised a romantic picnic in a secluded area and to see the phenomenal swirling white  sand formations from Hill Inlet.

Chapter 140(S)   and all other chapters can be found at … https://sablelab.tumblr.com/covertoperations  

THANK YOU so much for reading my story, liking or reblogging it and for your lovely comments on the last chapter.  I hope that you will all enjoy this chapter as well.  

CHAPTER 141 (S)

There was a gentle breeze off the water today as they sailed along and not a cloud in the wide, blue sky. If felt as if they were the only ones alive in these vast waters of the Coral Sea and had the whole of the Whitsundays to themselves. The day so far had been so memorable that Claire was soaking up every minute of her first time to this part of Queensland.  Snorkelling had been so much fun.  She’d loved every minute watching all the beautiful marine life that lived beneath these waters on the reef. Everything had been magical and just being with Jamie and seeing him enjoy himself as much as her had been the icing on the cake. She didn’t know what he had in store next but she was feeling quite peckish and hoped that they would soon be where they could have a picnic.

As Jamie masterfully skippered the yacht, Claire came up behind him leaning over him and slid her arms around his waist. She propped her chin on his shoulder and brushed her lips on his tanned skin already showing signs of some sunburn. Seeing the slight redness, she kissed across his shoulders from one side to the other.  Jamie could feel the smile on her lips and was sorely tempted to lay anchor then and there in the middle of the sea and carry his Claire to the sleeping quarters and spend the rest of the day making love. But he had other plans that he knew she would love.  They could finish this when they returned tonight and make love under the stars instead.

“Thank you, Jamie,” Claire whispered against his ear.

Her warm breath fanned his lobe and when she captured it in her teeth, he turned around to face her wrapping his arms around her and holding her close against his chest.

“What for Sassenach?”

“Today has been magical so far.”

“The day is but young mo ghràidh. There are still places to explore where we are going.”

She pressed closer in his arms, hiding her silly smile against his shoulder. “I doubt it can be any better than our snorkelling but whatever it is Jamie I will love it too.”

“I know ye will Sassenach.”

Claire gasped and pushed away a little to see the smirk he was not in any way attempting to hide. She lowered her hands and grabbed him on the butt cheeks.

"Just what are you up to Fraser?” she teased knowing that little inflection in his voice was a dead giveaway. She knew then that Jamie had arranged another something special and she was thrilled.

“So, what are we going to do? You’re not going to make me walk the plank are you captain?” she said in jest.

Jamie placed his hands to her hips, and sliding them lower, brought his Claire up against him suggestively. "And what plank might that be Sassenach?” he whispered seductively against her ear rotating his hips against hers in playfulness.

Touché! she thought knowing immediately she’d been outfoxed because he’d jumped on her words with a double meaning and with actions too. However, she could give as good as she got and replied with her own ambiguity well aware now of her euphemism.

“Well Mr Fraser … I guess you just might need to wait and see.”

Jamie laughed and kissed her brow as his hands moved from her backside to wrap around her waist. Instinctively Claire leaned into her love and gave him a kiss on his laughing mouth as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

“How would ye like tae steer the yacht Sassenach? Do ye think ye could handle that?” he asked turning her around once again until she was facing the steering wheel and nestling against his body.

“Aye, aye captain. I think I can handle that.”

He placed Claire’s hands on the wheel and placing his own over hers leaned into her body as his warm breath brushed against her neck.  Claire could feel Jamie’s body’s response to her nearness and taking advantage of his vulnerability she wriggled a little against him. In so doing she was happily aware of the guttural groan he smothered against her neck.

“I think I can handle that … very well.”

He kissed her on the back of the neck once more. “Yer going tae be the death of me Sassenach but I am going tae die a happy man.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 

Having Jamie pressed so close against her body as he rested his head on her shoulder was having an amazing effect on her senses. Claire could feel every nuance of James Fraser’s virile body and it was making her a little breathless.  The fact that his head rested against her shoulder was another matter altogether.  Jamie took every opportunity to unnerve her as she tried to keep the yacht on track but having him so close was doing her head in.  He was taking great delight in teasing her every chance he got for he knew that his every move or touch was sending lusty thoughts through her head. Claire sighed when he moved her Kaftan away for greater access to her neck. His lips brushed her naked shoulder but when his teeth nipped at her skin, she thought she would collapse in front of him if it weren’t for his arms around her waist. Delicious sensations of his teeth biting her skin caused her to sigh.

“Ye taste salty Sassenach. I like it.”

“Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ, James Fraser.  You certainly know how to break down a girl’s defences.”

“Only yours Sassenach … only ever yours,” he replied as his warm breath washed over her skin leaving goosebumps in its wake. “Do ye want me tae stop?”

“N-no …”

“Well then … I guess I will just take another wee bite,” and Jamie proceeded to do so. Claire dropped her head to the side giving him greater access to that tender spot behind her ear that was particularly sensitive to his caresses. She knew he would nibble there next.  

“Jamie?” she murmured.

“Hmmm?”

“Will we be there soon?”

“Why Sassenach? … Too hot for ye here on the yacht? Do ye need tae cool down a wee bit?” he replied languishing kisses from one side of her neck to the other as Claire moved her head to the other side for better access.

She was slowly self-combusting with his gentle caresses and stumbled with her answer. “Yes … well no …  Maybe … I’m hungry,” she finally was able to blurt out.

“So am I …” he replied giving her one last nip to her collarbone before giving his Claire some respite from his advances but again issuing her with an innuendo that she knew he would follow through on when given half the chance.

“You’re incorrigible James Fraser,” she admonished at his cheeky reply.

Jamie merely laughed out loud with hilarity.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Standing together they sailed the yacht to their next destination content as they were to explore what else the Whitsundays had in store for them. Jamie had put in the coordinates for Whitehaven Beach on Whitsunday Island, the picture postcard jewel of this area and where he had planned to have a romantic beach picnic with his Sassenach. This piece of heaven on earth was iconic and famous for its fairytale pure, fine, white silica sand washed by the beautiful crystal clear turquoise, green and blue water that lapped at its shore.

The journey didn’t take them that long and the time flew by for both of them until soon up ahead they saw the coastline that was their destination and they continued to sail to the northern side of the seven-kilometre stretch of brilliant white sand. A stunning coast with towering hoop pines, diverse vegetation pouring out towards the open sea, swirling white sand and the clearest blue water both had ever seen surrounded them the closer they went deeper in to the bay. It was like an oasis in the sea, with crystal-clear water and a pristine environment untouched by any development. 

Claire had been so caught up in admiring the vista that she didn’t realise they had almost arrived until Jamie lifted her hand and kissed her fingers, “Well Sassenach we’re nearly there.”

He followed the coastline around until he found a concealed gem, a secluded spot hidden behind rocks on the northern end of Whitehaven Beach. Jamie safely anchored their yacht in a sheltered place leaving Claire to drink in the gorgeous sight. Closing her eyes, she breathed in the fresh salty air into her lungs. When she opened them, the view was absolutely amazing as her gaze took in the wide-open ocean and blankets of white sand and the total beauty of this gem of the Whitsundays. This insanely beautiful, unspoiled beach with the pure silica sand was a brilliant luminescent colour. It was truly breathtaking and was just like a snapshot taken right out of a travel magazine.

This spectacular spot to spend their afternoon had her intrigued. Silhouetted by mountains covered in reddish rocks and tufts of green foliage and the impossibly white sand of the beach was truly beautiful. The water was so clear that Claire could see to the sandy depths. The hidden bay was incredibly lovely and was the perfect place for a quiet swim, a spot of sunbaking and their picnic in this slice of heaven that they had all to themselves. Here they could experience the beauty of Whitehaven Beach in privacy away from any other day trippers to the beach and climb to Hill Inlet Lookout for the best view of the area of the stunning swirling sands.

“It’s absolutely spectacular Jamie … a little piece of paradise,” Claire finally said slightly breathless and awe struck.

“Aye ‘tis mo nighean donn,” he replied casting his eyes to the scene before them.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Jamie quickly organized their rubber dinghy for the short tender into shore for the rest of the day with the supplies for their picnic and any gear they might need for a day on the beach. They both got in the dinghy and he started the outboard motor and set it on course for the secluded beach at the tip of Hill Inlet.  In next to no time Jamie had beached the small craft on the sand and pulled it a little way up the beach just to be on the safe side. Claire watched her love return to the dinghy to collect their belongings and then again to help her get out of the craft. Her eyes took him in from his hypnotic blue eyes, to the little grooves that furrowed his forehead and to the ginger beard growth on his jaw that made him look like a bold, swashbuckling pirate.  What she saw left her breathless.  James Alexander Malcolm Mackenzie Fraser was one mighty fine specimen of manhood. Reaching out his arms towards her, Claire put her arms around Jamie’s neck as he lifted her from the dinghy and carried her up the beach before letting her glide slowly but sensually down his body.

When her feet touched the ground, Claire was amazed at the sensation she experienced. The tactile sensation was surprising, for there was nothing better than the feeling of sinking her toes into the velvety texture of the sand. It oozed through her toes like the ripple of water in a stream and it felt so soft and silky smooth against the soles of her feet. Claire wriggled her toes in the soft consistency of the sand and looked up at Jamie with a huge smile on her face.

“I feel like I’m walking in a dream, like I’m on a soft, cool cloud. It feels wonderful.”

“Aye, it’s nae coarse at all Sassenach.”

Leaning down Claire took a handful of sand and let it slip between her fingers. She glanced back up at Jamie with an astonished expression on her face. “I have never felt sand like this before.”

“Neither have I. I read it’s the silica which gives the sand its unique white colour and verra fine powdery grain, Sassenach no wonder it is so soft.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

They walked along the beach to find a perfect spot to chill out for their picnic. Because the sand was made of a pure silica composition, it didn’t retain heat, and even on this hot day, it was so nice and cool to walk but there was also something odd that they noticed.  It felt as if the fine, white, velvety sand was talking to them as it made an unusual sound under their feet as they walked along.

“Did you notice that noise Jamie?”

“Aye … I did Sassenach. The sand is whispering tae us like barking spiders.”

“Spiders don’t bark Jamie,” she giggled as she watched what he did next.

“Aye they do … and it sounds just like this.  Listen Sassenach.”

Claire couldn’t stop laughing as Jamie demonstrated the squeaking sound that his larger feet made when he walked in the sand.  This James Fraser was so uninhibited and carefree that seeing him like this was a revelation. He was so relaxed and happy-go-lucky that she couldn’t help but feel his infectious happiness too as she emulated what he’d done in the sand as well. The sound of their laughter filled the air as they happily walked along hand in hand until they settled on the picture-perfect spot to make base for the rest of the day and for their romantic picnic in this idyllic setting.

Whitehaven Beach was sheltered from the open ocean by the other islands in the Whitsunday group and the outer reef.  In the distance they could see their sleek, white yacht anchored like a cork bobbing on the water just waiting for their return. From their vantage point they could see sparkling crystal blue waves rippling along the shallow shoreline and an endless beautiful azure blue sea stretching for miles along the coastline giving them a picturesque view as far as the eye could see. There were no big waves or rip tides to worry about and the water was very tranquil. This was the perfect spot for swimming, for the crystal-clear turquoise water looked particularly inviting on this hot day as it sparkled in the sun. After their romantic picnic, they could laze on the beach or cool off with a quick dip in the balmy tropical waters this afternoon if they wanted to.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  

However, they didn’t take a swim once they had finished eating, for Jamie and Claire decided to make the short 1-kilometre return walk up the hill to Hill Inlet Lookout instead. It was only a short walk from their base and they happily made the journey up the slight incline to the viewing platform.  Although it was a little steep in places, it was not too difficult for walking with plenty of steps along the way to offset the gradient of the hill and besides Claire had Jamie to help her navigate the walk.  A large goanna basking in the sun scurried back into the bushes to climb a tree to escape as their laughter disturbed him from his little nap. They just noticed the flash of its tail as the creature made a hasty retreat away from the humans into safety. Looking up, they saw a white bellied sea eagle soar high overhead patrolling the area looking for prey and watched as it dived down into the water then fly back up with a fish in its beak.  Despite being only half-way up the track, vantage points gave them great views over the inlet.  Signs erected along the way gave them an insight into the unique lifestyle of this area’s Traditional Owners, the Ngaro People who occupied this region over 9,000 years ago. They could even see their white and sliver yacht in the distance in the vibrant blue water cupped by the rugged earth.

In no time Jamie and Claire had reached the lookout and it was well worth the walk to get the great view and they were captivated by the sight before them. Taking Claire’s hand in his, Jamie guided her hand towards the breathtaking sight before them, his voice filled with joy as he pointed out another spectacular sight to behold of the ever-changing shapes of blue water and white sand created by the moving tides. Few experiences could compare to what they saw from this vantage point. They were able to see a panoramic view of the beach below and the surrounding lush, green tropical islands that took their breath away. From the lookout they could see a magical picture of the twirling pattern of dazzling sand through the turquoise and aquamarine water. The outgoing low tide had shifted the sand and water to create a huge swirling fusion of colours and patterns where the magical waters and sand danced together below in the tidal lagoons of Hill Inlet.

The whirling colours of both were brilliant.  They were fascinated by the way the swirling soft, snowy, white sand meandered along the inlet like a mythical Dreamtime snake. The island was now towering over the water curving along the glittering ocean and they saw a magnificent humpback whale out at sea migrating north from their feeding grounds in Antarctica to the warmer waters here in the Whitsundays.  It was a phenomenal experience and truly breathtaking and one of nature’s masterpieces to witness. As they stood admiring the vista, Jamie glided his hand over Claire’s shoulder to rest on her arm and drew her close. Sighing, she contently rested her head on his shoulder.

“It’s so beautiful,” she breathed, unable to tear her eyes away from the view.

His gaze was suddenly preoccupied not with the panorama but with the woman by his side. Jamie however, had eyes only for the exquisite view of his Sassenach.

“Aye … “tis.” He replied hugging her to his side but again his words were ambiguous. “The view I can see is the most gorgeous thing I have ever seen.”

His Claire was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen and knowing that she was her old self again was all that he needed to know. Their time here in the Whitsundays had done her the world of good.  She was healthy, relaxed and radiant. Claire Beauchamp was also a wanton witch who had bewitched him over these past days and the thought of returning to Section One was an anathema to him. His Sassenach had recovered from her trauma at the monastery in this environment as too had he until they had been swept up in the paradise they had experienced. Just watching his Claire awestruck made it all the more special knowing that they had experienced this magical place together. They had certainly created beautiful memories that would sustain them when they returned to Section One.

The world had passed them by and they had relished every day spent here and every day they had left was indeed sacrosanct.  When the time came for them to leave it would be extremely hard knowing that what awaited them back at Section was manipulation by their leaders, surveillance of their behaviour and the constant threat of danger that they faced when on missions. However, together they were strong and united and he knew that they could and would survive the challenges that lay ahead.  But for now, they would make the most of every single moment they had left however much time that was.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  

Making their way back down to their secluded beach, Jamie and Claire walked along the sand close to the lapping waves crashing onto the shore. Darting back and forth happily they caught each little foray of rippling water  swallowing the shore and licking at their calves. The water felt refreshing after their little hike while the breeze was a cool caress across their skin.  They laughed as the water flowed over their toes as they stood and waited for the next wave to cover their feet before returning back to the sea.  This was the most perfect day and any thoughts of Section One had been erased from their minds.  There was only the two of them in paradise.  Two lovers ambling along the most perfect beach on this most perfect day.  They could want for nothing more to feel invigorated and alive.  

The solitude and beauty of this spot really hit them both as they strolled along hand in hand leaning into one another and smiling.  They could hear a flock of Rainbow Lorikeets fly overhead making their way to the native flowering trees for a feast on the pollen.  As they looked up, they saw the beautiful rainbow plumage of the little parrots with a green with a blue face, and an orangey red breast. They were chirpy little birds, noisy and chattery as they flew to their feeding place in the trees behind where they had set up for the day.    

“Oh, look Jamie! … I can see another pod of dolphins,” Claire exclaimed as they wandered along the shoreline.  They stopped and stood together for a moment watching the sea creatures frolic and dive in the water.

They were so relaxed as they walked along the beach with not a care in the world other than to enjoy this special day in the Whitsundays. Jamie had his arm around Claire’s waist while her hand rested on his tummy as they looked at each other happily and so much in love.  He pulled her in a little closer to his body, kissed her and before Claire knew what he was doing, Jamie scooped her up into his arms and twirled her about.  Kicking her feet up and down in the air and laughing she placed her arms around his neck, and as her lover carried her along the beach, she peppered his face all over with kisses of her own.  Claire was so happy, that she couldn’t wipe the smile off of her face as their laughter rang out loud and clear echoing along with the sounds of a kookaburra.  

The two of them were in the best place ever emotionally since they had left Section One and these idyllic days spent on their downtime had been so special. Although they both knew that all good things eventually did come to an end, that was the furthest thing from their thoughts, for nothing could mar this wonderful day.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ to be continued next FRIDAY 28th AUGUST

#jamieandclairecrossover #Jamieandclairefanfic #jamieandclaireau #the lallybroch library #outlander fanfiction #crossover outlander/lfn spies modernau #LFNoutlander #covert operations

[kmomof4]

Of Darkness, Vampires, and Soulmates

Ch. 6 Of Soulmates

We’re back y’all!!! I am so glad that you enjoyed last weeks installment and I’m hoping that you’ll like this one just as much, if not even more!!! We have quite a bit throwing back to canon in this chapter and I so hope you enjoy it!!! Thank you all again for coming along on this journey with me! Words cannot express how much it truly means to me!!!

@profdanglaisstuff​ and @hollyethecurious​ both deserve every good thing and all the love I can possibly give for their invaluable assistance and input in the crafting of this story!!! I also want to express my appreciation to the ladies of the CSSNS and the CSMM discords for their encouragement and help with a title! And finally to @spartanguard​ for bringing this story to LIFE every single week!!! Real life got in the way this week, so the chapter art will be up tomorrow. But even so, my heart is so full, just know that I’ll never be able to adequately express how much your hard work on behalf of this story means to me! I am immensely grateful!!! Thank you all so much ladies!!! I couldn’t have done this without you!!!

Chapter summary: 19yrs after leaving Massachusetts, Emma returns to Killian.

Rating: M (Violence and smut)

Words: 8751 of 41K total

Tags: Vampires, Soulmates, Reincarnation, Prophecy, Black Death, French Revolution, Magic, True Loves Kiss

Prologue | Ch1 | Ch2 | Ch3 | Ch4 | Ch5 | Ao3 chapter link | Ao3 fic link

Tag list: @hollyethecurious​ @winterbaby89​ @snowbellewells​ @stahlop​ @resident-of-storybrooke​ @jennjenn615​ @kingofmyheart14​ @profdanglaisstuff​ @thisonesatellite​ @branlovestowrite​ @ultraluckycatnd​ @flslp87​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose​ @let-it-raines​ @shireness-says​ @kymbersmith-90​ @darkcolinodonorgasm​ @bethacaciakay​ @searchingwardrobes​ @ilovemesomekillianjones​ @teamhook​ @aprilqueen84​ @qualitycoffeethings​ @superchocovian​ @artistic-writer​ @donteattheappleshook​ @doodlelolly0910​ @seriouslyhooked​ @tiganasummertree​ @lfh1226-linda​ @nikkiemms​ @xsajx​ @klynn-stormz​

Please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed.

Under the cut, unless Tumblr ate it.

Ch. 6 Of Soulmates

19yrs later Emma Swan Fisher drove down the meandering gravel road that purported to lead to the address, and the man, written on the envelope tucked into her purse. Purported, because she had left the main road almost three minutes ago and there was still no sign of the house. She finally came around a bend and laid eyes on the… her jaw dropped, eyes nearly bugging out of her head. It was a mansion, there was no other word for it. She pulled into a courtyard in front of the most magnificent home she had ever seen. Realizing what she probably looked like, her jaw snapped shut. Being seen gaping like a fish wouldn’t exactly be the best first impression.

Climbing the stairs to the front porch, she could see into the house through the top half of the door. It was designed like a farmhouse window with wood mullions dividing the glass into smaller windows so that she could easily see in. The doorbell echoed as a tall, older gentleman came toward the door. She stepped back as she waited for him to answer.

He opened the door and a gasp left his lips. “Miss Emma?” Surprise colored his words and his face. She stepped back further in alarm at his question, nearly taking a tumble off the steps. He reached out, catching her before she could fall. He was clothed in black slacks and white shirt, open at the top with the sleeves rolled up. He was probably a little old to be sporting a mostly grey ponytail, she guessed him to be in his late 50’s, early 60’s.

“Do I know you?” she asked, regaining her balance. He still held on to her by the elbow and she had to stop herself from jerking away from him. He was only trying to help her.

He looked down and chuckled. “No,” he admitted, “I don’t expect you do, Miss. But I certainly remember you, although you were only a wee lass when last I saw you.” He looked back up at her with a broad smile. “I expect that you are here for Master Killian.”

“Uh, yes,” she agreed.

“Please come in, lass,”  he invited, “I’m Starkey, his butler.” He held the door open for her and followed her into a bright, sunny room with floor to ceiling windows opposite letting in the late morning light. She followed him through several rooms, all sporting spectacular views of green lawns sloping down to the Atlantic, before he led her out to a screened-in porch, where she could just discern the waves breaking on the beach and the salty sea air wrapped around her like a blanket. She didn’t think she’d ever seen anything so beautiful and peaceful in all her life. “I’ll let Master Killian know that you’re here.”

“Thank you.” She nodded at him as he left the room. She was still stunned at the reception she had received when he had opened the door. It made the relationship that her mother must have had with this Killian Jones much more clear. If the butler knew who she was, and remembered her after all this time, they must have been very close, indeed. But if they were so close, why had Emma never heard of him? She knew, of course, that she had been born in Boston, and that the family had moved back to her mother’s birthplace in Minnesota when she was three. She’d been so young when they left Massachusetts, it never occurred to her to ask about their years there when she was growing up.  She had a feeling though, that she was soon to get a crash course about that time of her life.

She couldn’t decide if she was dreading it or excited about the prospect.

Emma shook her head. It didn’t matter. She had come here today for one purpose. To hand deliver this letter, written by her recently deceased mother, to the closest friend she had ever had. She had been given this task just a few weeks before Ingrid died. Emma sighed. Those days had been a blur. Anna and Elsa returning home, home health nurses around the clock, being woken in the middle of the night with the news that the end was near, sobbing in her sisters’ arms after she was gone, taking care of legal affairs, it was a miracle that she remained sane. Once everything had calmed down, she knew she had to fulfill her promise. So here she was. Her past had no bearing on what she was here to do. It had no bearing on her future. She’d deliver the letter and leave, duty fulfilled.

Suddenly, Emma felt a familiar shiver race down her spine. It had been awhile since she’d felt it, but not so long that it was wholly unfamiliar. She had felt a similar shiver occasionally over the years when she’d visited Boston with her college friends on the weekends. Especially when they visited the North End. But now, the tingling she’d felt under her skin when she entered the gates of the estate, intensified into full body chills before coalescing around her heart and almost tugging her back toward the main house. She turned away from the view of the ocean back into the house, only to meet another vision in the form of the most handsome man she’d ever laid eyes on.

A myriad of emotions paraded themselves across his beautiful features. Relief, joy, sadness, excitement, something else that she wouldn’t name. He looked at her as someone would look at their greatest pride and joy, and dearest love all at once.

“Emma,” he breathed.

Emma stepped toward the man slowly, trying to bring her racing heartbeat under control. Her steps faltered slightly as she approached him, trying to catalog everything about his appearance. He was young. Way too young to be a close friend to her 57 year old mother. He didn’t look to be any older than she was. His black hair was gently mussed as if he had a habit of running his hands through it, black scruff with just a hint of ginger, the bluest eyes she’d ever seen (and given the blue eyes of her mother and sisters, that was saying a lot). He was dressed casually in jeans and a gray pullover that stretched enticingly across his chest and biceps. She couldn’t help but wonder at the strength of those muscles and how they’d feel underneath her hands. A shiver of desire ran through her that she promptly squashed. Whoa! Where did that come from? She ran her tongue across her lips as her eyes met his. The tightness in her chest subsided briefly but then intensified as she approached him. Along with the tightness, a wave of dizziness overcame her so suddenly that her knees buckled and she nearly fell at his feet before he caught her in his strong arms.

“Emma,” he cried, “Are you all right?” His clear concern for her well being took the edge off the embarrassment she felt showing that kind of weakness to a virtual stranger.

“Y- yes,” she stammered, “I’m fine. Thank you.” She clutched at his forearms as she gathered her legs back under her and attempted to stand.

“Here,” He lifted her into his arms and carried her toward the small table in the breakfast nook before setting her down on one of the chairs. “How about I make us some hot chocolate? See if we can’t get you feeling a bit better.”

“Thank you,” she murmured. “Hot chocolate would be great.”

A few minutes later, Emma watched as her host placed two hot chocolates with whipped cream and cinnamon on the small table and sat down opposite her.

“How did you know how I liked my hot chocolate,” she asked, with a small smile.

A sad smile crossed his face as he shrugged. “Lucky guess. This was how Ingrid liked to drink hers.”

Emma took a sip of her drink. “I’m so sorry about that, Mr. Jones,” she apologized, with a shake of her head.

He waved away her apology. “No need to apologize, lass. I’m just glad that your color is a little better now that you have some ‘elixir of the gods’ in you, as Ingrid used to call it. And please,” his penetrating blue gaze seemed to pierce to her very soul, “call me Killian.” She nodded, unable to look away from the intensity of his gaze.

“It’s been many years since you and your family left Massachusetts, Emma.” He looked into her eyes, hope and a shyness that she didn’t expect swirling in their depths. She couldn’t explain this unexpected draw to him, but she wanted to stick around and try to get to the bottom of the mystery connecting this man to her family. “How is your mom? Your sisters?”

Emma was brought back to the man before her with the mention of her mother. “Oh, I’d nearly forgotten,” she exclaimed, reaching into her purse with the letter. “That’s why I’m here.” She handed the envelope to him. “My mom asked me to hand deliver this to you.” She looked down and tried to swallow over the sudden lump in her throat. He gently took it from her and she heard the rip of him tearing it open.

She looked up when he’d been silent for several moments reading the letter in his hands. Sorrow sat upon his brow and his eyes were very red, as if he were trying to hold back tears. He folded it back up and laid it on the table between them.

“So Ingrid is dead,” he sighed.

“Yes.”

“When your family didn’t come back four years ago and there was no contact, I was afraid that something like this might have happened,” he murmured. “Tell me,” he pleaded.

The clear anguish and sorrow on his face nearly broke her heart anew. She couldn’t possibly refuse him this, no matter how much she wanted to question him.

“The uterine cancer won in the end,” she began, haltingly. “She was diagnosed just before Christmas of my senior year in high school, 2012. Being so close to the Mayo Clinic, she was able to be treated there.”

Killian nodded. “They’re the best at what they do. I’m glad they were able to treat her.”

“She went into remission just before Anna and I graduated. Anna got her degree in graphic design from the Minneapolis College of Art and Design and was planning a fall wedding, so,” she shrugged, “perfect timing.”

“Indeed.” His blue eyes bore into hers sending even more shivers of attraction down her spine that she felt helpless to stop.

“The type of cancer it was,” she continued, “we always knew there was a good chance of it coming back. We were planning on moving back here after I graduated, I was accepted to Harvard, but we decided that she should stay close to her doctors.” Killian nodded at her to continue. “She stayed healthy all through my years at Harvard, but…” here she faltered, trying to swallow down the lump that had formed again. “It came back. She told us the day after I graduated. She was dead three months later.”

Killian bowed his head in sorrow. “It’s taken this long for the estate to get settled and all the legal proceedings to wind up. I’m sorry.”

His head snapped back up again. “You have nothing to be sorry for, lass,” he choked out. “I’m glad you were able to come and give me the news in person, though. I wouldn’t have wanted to find out any other way.”

Emma could feel the blush rising on her face. “It was nothing,” she demurred, “I promised Mom.”

A few moments passed in silence before finally, Killian spoke. “Tell me about your sisters,” he encouraged. “Is Elsa still the quiet one?”

Emma laughed heartily. “As opposed to Anna? Yes! Absolutely!”

Killian chuckled. “I’ll never forget watching Anna learn to walk. She only walked for about a week and then she ran.” He chuckled again, shaking his head. “And never stopped.”

Emma laughed again. “That is still true. Anna is a bundle of energy. She surely needs it now...”

“Tell me about Elsa and Anna,” he repeated. “How are they?” Emma lightly shook her head, trying to focus on his question about her sisters instead of the obvious confusion surrounding his memory of her twenty-six year old sister.

“Elsa came home,” Emma began, “after Mom was first diagnosed. She took a job with the St. Paul Chamber of Commerce and has made such a difference in the business community since then, that she’s running for Mayor, and doing very well in the polls. She’s also dating a guy she met at some shindig last year.” She laughed as Killian’s face fell into a tight frown. He certainly had the disapproving Dad look nailed.

“Well, tell me about him,” he very nearly growled. Emma couldn’t hold back her grin. “His name is Jack Frost, owns his own, very popular, restaurant, he’s 30, and treats her like a queen.”

Killian relaxed. “As long as he treats her right, I have no objection,” he huffed. Emma couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of her. Killian’s face broke into a sheepish grin as his face and ears turned red and he scratched behind his ear again. Doubtless he realized just how ridiculous he sounded. His slight bashfulness was adorable as well as the protective instincts he just displayed. “And what about Anna?”

“Anna and Kristoff welcomed their first child, Aggie, last summer. They named him after Anna’s father.” A soft smile broke over her face. “Here’s a picture of Ingrid holding him,” she continued, pulling out her phone. “He was born about a month before she died.”

His smile matched hers. “I’m glad she was able to see and hold him.”

The bittersweet moment ended when Emma put her phone back away. Killian looked back up at her. “He’s obviously taking after Anna,” she added. “He has two speeds. On and off. He just started walking.” She couldn’t stop her smile from widening as she thought about her nephew. She looked back over at Killian who sported an almost awed joy on his face. How had she been drawn in so quickly and easily to this man? A man she had grown up not even knowing of his existence, and had only finally met such a short time ago. She couldn’t believe how easy he was to talk to, to share intimate details of the lives of her family with.

“And now, what about yourself, lass? You said you attended Harvard?” he asked.

“Yes,” she smiled, proudly. “I studied Sociology with a concentration in Family and Adoption.” She could feel her cheeks heating up. “I’m thinking about going to law school so that I could specialize in adoptions.” She shrugged and looked away from him. “Given our family history…” she trailed away.

She looked back up at him to see his face split in the widest grin she had ever seen. “I don’t think I could be more proud of you,” he murmured. “That’s wonderful, Emma.”

She could feel the blush spreading again but she maintained eye contact with him, basking in his praise. Why was she so receptive to him? So willing to accept his admiration. She barely knew him!

She fixed him with a hard, confused stare. “Okay, now it’s my turn.” Killian scratched behind his ear in what she recognized as a nervous tic. Something wasn’t right here and physical attraction aside, she was determined to get to the bottom of it. “How exactly did you know my mom? She said that you were her best friend. You tell me stories of my twenty-six year old sister as a toddler. But you don’t look any older than I am.”

Killian chuckled and his ears turned red again as he took a sip of his drink. “I’m much older than I look, lass,” he admitted.

She raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Descendant of Numenor, blessed with long life,” she sassed.

He chuckled again. “Not quite.”

“So how old are you?”

“I’m a lot older than I look.” He fixed her with just as hard a stare as she’d leveled at him. “Let’s just leave it at that. But believe me when I tell you, that not only was I Ingrid’s closest friend, she was also mine.”

His cerulean gaze spoke to the deepest part of her. She knew that he was telling her the truth. Emma prided herself on being able to tell when someone was lying. A sixth sense, so to speak, that was unfailingly accurate if someone was trying to feed her a load of bull. That sixth sense was eerily silent at his statements.

She nodded. “Okay.” She had no idea why she was backing down. Yes, he was telling her the truth, but he wasn’t telling her all of it. How could he be when he didn’t look as old as Anna was now, much less old enough to be such an intimate friend of her mother? She didn’t want to let him off the hook quite so easily, but the quickening of her heartbeat and the tug she felt toward him ever since seeing him for the first time only confirmed what everything else about this encounter pointed toward. The reception she had received, both from him and his butler, and his obvious love for her mother and knowledge of her sisters, all combined to tell her one thing. She was exactly where she belonged. She was home. She knew beyond any shadow of a doubt that she could trust this man in front of her. Knowing that was one thing, acting on it however, was quite another.

“Please,” she begged. “I do trust you. I just want to know your connection with my family.” She knew that she was treading on thin ice, pushing him on this, but she couldn’t help the natural curiosity and desire to put together the puzzle that had been presented her in this man.

“Perhaps that would be a better topic of conversation at a more… neutral location.” Her brow furrowed at his words. “I will answer all your questions. You have my word. I have a lunch appointment that I must depart for soon in order to make, but may I escort you to dinner this evening?”

Emma’s eyebrows jumped nearly to her hairline. “Are you asking me on a date? You just met me!” she exclaimed.

“Is that what they’re calling it these days?” He chuckled. “Then yes, I guess I am.” His face turned serious, his eyes burning into hers, sending her heart rate into a gallop. “Would you go out with me, Swan?”

“What did you say?” She felt the blood drain from her face. “Why did you call me that?”

Killian also paled. “It’s your middle name. Anna thought you should have it because of your birthmark.” Her hand rose to her neck where her birthmark was. “Ingrid told me on the day you were born.” He rose from the table and kneeled before her, holding out his hand. “Please, Emma,” he begged, “I know it seems crazy.”

“Yes, it does,” she exclaimed, standing to her feet, her heart galloping in her chest. “Much older than you look? Telling me about the day I was born and when Anna learned to walk? Do you know what you sound like?”

Killian looked down at the floor. “Like a madman, I’m sure.” He looked back up at her, his azure eyes pleading. “And if your face is telling me anything, you’re ready to run out my door and never come back.”

“How can you know that?” she whispered.

His eyes grew soft as they gazed into her own. “I hope you’ll forgive me for saying so, but you’re something of an open book.” He cocked his head to the side as he looked at her awaiting her answer. “Please give me a chance.”

She continued to stare at him, the two opposing voices in her head vying for dominance. The one telling her that it was too much, it was too soon, the mystery of the man in front of her didn’t matter. This, he, was dangerous and she would be well served to run as fast and as far away as she could. But the second voice spoke from her heart and told her what she already knew. She could trust him. She could look in his eyes and see how much he cared for her, how much he loved her. She didn’t understand how it was possible, but she knew that everything he had told her today was the truth. That piece of her heart, that she never knew she had until today, responded back to his. She placed her hand in his outstretched one.

Killian’s face rivaled the sun at noon as his fingers curled around her own. He rose to his feet before her. “Thank you, Swan.” He lifted her hand to his mouth and brushed her knuckles with his lips, never taking his eyes off of hers. A gasp escaped her as her heart rate sped up even further with a flood of arousal coming over her. He turned her hand over in his own and closed his eyes as he seemed to inhale deeply, drawing his nose along the inside of her wrist. He held his breath for several seconds before slowly letting it out, his warm breath brushing along her skin and raising goosebumps in his wake. His eyes opened and met hers again. “Where may I pick you up this evening?”

Emma swallowed heavily, trying to will her heart rate to slow down. “I’m at The Harborside Inn.”

“I know exactly where it is,” he declared. “I’ll see you at 8.”

~*~*~

Emma opened the door after his knock rang through the cozy, comfortably furnished room. Her eyes widened in appreciation as her eyes landed on him standing on her threshold. He appeared to be equally speechless.

“You look stunning, Swan,” he breathed.

“I, uh…” He looked to be dressed all in black. From the dark silk shirt and waistcoat, showing just a peek of dark chest hair to the black jeans and boots on his feet. A black leather jacket completed the ensemble. The same tingling under her skin she felt earlier intensified into the full body chills and heart tug yet again as her eyes raked hungrily over him. “Thank you.”

His appearance made her doubly grateful that she had done some shopping that afternoon after leaving his estate. She had found a small boutique near her hotel and was helped by a perky blonde saleslady who helped her find the perfect dress and accessories for her date tonight. She wore a pink flowing number with cap sleeves and a v neckline paired with nude pumps while pulling her hair back into a high ponytail. If his widened eyes and shortness of breath were any indication, she did good.

He shook himself out of his apparent daze and held out his arm to her. “Shall we, milady?”

“We shall,” she replied, smiling and slipping her arm through his.

He led her downstairs and out the back toward the pier. Her eyes widened in surprise as they landed on a full sized ship that looked straight out of Pirates of the Caribbean. Killian preened beside her at her reaction. “Is that yours?” she asked, flabbergasted.

“She is, indeed,” he replied, proudly. “Behold, the Jolly Roger!”

She couldn’t wipe the shock off her face if she tried. She turned to him, mouth hanging open. “The Jolly Roger? Like from Peter Pan? Are you serious?”

He led her up the gangplank and down onto the deck of the ship. A chuckle escaped his lips and a delighted grin adorned his features as his eyes danced. “Peter Pan is my favorite book of all time. Although I’m definitely partial to Captain Hook. So, of course, I had to name her the Jolly Roger.”

She couldn’t help but smile back at him as he led her to the helm. “So, where are we going that it takes a ship to get there?”

Killian’s grin grew even more, if possible. “I got in touch with an old friend of mine this afternoon. He owns a restaurant on the other side of the island. Very upscale, very popular, reservation only. It’s booked solid for the next three years. Most of the menu changes daily according to what the fishermen bring in, but his lobster dishes are the best to be found in all of New England. He was very pleased to arrange an extra seating for us this evening.” Killian drew her into his side as he steered the ship away from the pier and out to the open water. “The Nautilus is right on the water and we can pull in right there and enjoy our meal.” His eyes sparkled in the moonlight as he looked down at her. She couldn’t suppress the shiver his gaze engendered as she returned his scrutiny. There it was again. The bone deep certainty that she was home. That at his side was where she was supposed to be. Her gaze drifted to his lips as his tongue peeked out between them. He cleared his throat, drawing her eyes back up to his. The hunger she saw there nearly took her breath away.

He looked back out over the water as the lights of Edgartown faded behind them. But she would have none of it. Throwing caution to the wind, she reached up and cupped his face in her hands and turned his face toward her again before drawing him into a kiss.

Killian groaned into her mouth as she opened in invitation. He gathered her to him even more tightly, her body lining up perfectly to his. Her earlier thought about how his muscles would feel under her hands came back to mind as her own hands wrapped around his biceps as their tongues tangled until she pulled away trying to catch her breath.

“That was…” Killian trailed away, his forehead resting on hers.

“Yeah,” she breathed.

~*~*~

“Killian!” an older bald man exclaimed striding towards them with his arm outstretched.

“Nemo!” Killian called out. Emma immediately mourned the loss of heat when Killian removed his hand from the small of her back to greet his friend. The men met halfway and clasped hands before pulling each other into an affectionate embrace. Emma couldn’t help but smile at the camaraderie between them.

Killian led his friend back to where she stood. The genuine smile that lit up his features put her even more at ease at meeting someone who clearly meant a lot to him.

“Emma, I’d like you to meet Captain Nemo,” he introduced. Her face broke into a delighted grin to match his own. “Nemo, my old friend, this is Emma Fisher.” He shot her a bashful, almost apologetic look as Nemo took her hand in between his.

“It is so lovely to meet you, my dear,” he enthused, pumping her hand up and down. “When Killian called this afternoon, I was delighted to add one more seating to the evening.” He cut his eyes back toward Killian. “We’ve been friends a very long time, but it’s also been a very long time since I’ve seen him. I can’t tell you how happy I am to see this one again.”

“It’s very nice to meet you as well, Captain,” she replied. “20,000 Leagues Under the Sea is one of my favorite adventures from when I was a kid.”

Nemo beamed at her even more than he already was. “I’m so glad! It is also my favorite story. I very much identified with Captain Nemo for many, many years, before I met Killian in the course of my travels. It was his influence that turned me onto a better, nobler path.” Mirth and a bit of mischief could be seen in his eyes as he looked at Killian again.

Killian blushed and scratched behind his ear. The move was even more endearing now, in the presence of his friend, than it was earlier.

“But enough about that,” Nemo continued, “Let me show you to your table.” Killian’s hand returned to the small of her back as they followed Nemo through the large, but very intimate dining room. The low lights and ample space between tables, she could only see five, created an ambiance that sent a flutter of awareness down her spine as they followed their host into another, much smaller room. It contained a single table, set for two. Emma gasped at the loveliness of the setting. The small table was covered by a white tablecloth that fell to the floor. A tall, navy blue pillar candle in a hurricane lamp with a ring of yellow buttercups around the base adorned the center of the table. Killian came around her and held her chair out for her.

“So now you’re going to be a gentleman?” She smirked at him.

“I’m always a gentleman, Swan,” he cooed, his warm breath brushing the shell of her ear as she sat down. She sent him a small smile as he removed his jacket and seated himself across from her.

Their waiter approached to fill their water glasses. “What may I bring you to drink?” Nemo asked, stepping aside to give the waiter room.

“A bottle of the Premier Cru Les Vaillons 2015, if you please, sir,” Killian decided. He leaned over to her, whispering, “An excellent vintage for the lobster that’s being served tonight.” She nodded her acknowledgement before looking up at their host again.

“Excellent choice,” Nemo agreed. “I’ll get that right out to you and your meals will be out shortly.” Nemo and their waiter disappeared and she was finally able to direct her attention to her company for the evening. She could see the flickering yellow candlelight in his eyes that sparkled in the low lighting. His pupils dilated as he watched her, whether from the lighting or desire, she couldn’t tell.

His eyes grew dark when she lightly wet her lips. She returned his obvious admiration until Nemo returned with their wine. “Your Lobster Thermidor is being prepared as we speak,” he informed them as he poured their wine. “The lobster was harvested this very afternoon after I spoke with you, Killian. It will be served with a simple green salad topped with a light herb vinaigrette and couscous.” Nemo backed away and gave a slight bow to the couple. “It was truly a pleasure to meet you, Emma and I hope you both enjoy your evening here at the Nautilus.”

Killian smiled. “Thank you, my friend. I’m sure we will.” Nemo withdrew and left them alone.

Conversation was light as they waited for their meals. Ranging from favorite books and television shows to a quite vigorous debate on whether Peter Jackson’s Hobbit movies lived up to his Lord of the Rings saga. Casual and light touches did nothing to quell the simmering desire brought up by their earlier kiss. Aware of the desire in his eyes, and sending him a sultry smile back, she knew there was only one way she wanted the evening to end. Once their meals arrived, they both dug into the succulent dish accompanied, on her part, with moans of delight as she’d never tasted anything so delicious. Killian appeared spellbound as she swirled a piece of bread in the last of the creamy sauce left behind on her plate. She looked up at him and was gratified to see the desire in his eyes as she opened her mouth and laid the piece of bread on her tongue before closing her lips around her fingers and drawing them out of her mouth.

Normally, she wouldn’t be so bold as to play the blatant seductress, but the connection she had felt with him, even after she had left him earlier today, plus the effect of the wine was definitely playing a part in her attempts to flirt. He ran his tongue across his lips and a different kind of hunger colored his countenance before he seemed to shake himself out from under her spell. She couldn’t help the stab of disappointment she felt when he looked down at their table.

“Before this goes any further, Emma…” he looked up and his voice trailed away. The darkness of his eyes flashed blood red and a rage that she had only read about took over his visage.

Her sharp intake of breath and her face going pale snapped him out of whatever had overtaken him. He turned conciliatory and concerned eyes upon her. “Emma, are you all right?” He reached out and grabbed her hand with his own.

“Am I alright? What about you?” she asked. “What was that?” She turned to look behind her where the back of the restaurant was a glass wall looking out on the water. She could see nothing that might have incited the drastic change in her companion. “Your eyes went red and I’ve never seen anyone so angry as what I saw on your face just now.”

He shook his head. Not in denial, but in sorrow. “I’m sorry, Emma. I…” he looked back at her. “I promised to answer all your questions. I didn’t want to do it tonight, I was hoping to postpone that just for a little while. I just wanted us to have a fun evening, as a proper first date should be. A chance to get to know each other a little bit. Enjoy each other's company. But circumstances have changed enough that I see I’m going to have to answer all your questions tonight. And I can only hope that you’ll listen, believe, and not reject me. And what is between us.” He stared earnestly into her eyes, hope and trepidation mixing in his until she couldn’t discern which was stronger.

The connection she felt and the trust she had placed in him prompted her to nod her head at him to continue. But nothing could have prepared her for what came out of his mouth.

“You wanted to know what my connection was to your family.” She nodded. “You wanted to know how old I am.” She nodded again. He swallowed heavily. “I am a 450 year old vampire.”

Emma’s jaw dropped. She couldn’t make sense out of what she had just heard. “W-what?” she stammered.

“Please don’t make me say it out loud again.” He shut his eyes, his anguish etched across his face. “You heard exactly what I said.”

She shook her head. “Yes,” she agreed, “I heard what you said. But…”

“I told you that I was much older than I looked,” he interrupted, “and you said you believed me.” The pleading she saw in his eyes nearly undid her.

“Yes, I believed you. I have a thing about lies.” She shook her head again, trying to clear it, before dropping it into her propped up hands. “I can tell when someone is lying to me. And I know you weren’t.”

“Look at me, please, Emma,” he begged her. She lifted her head and looked into his earnest, forthright eyes. “Everything I will tell you is the truth. You have to trust me,” he pled.

“I trust you,” she whispered.

He nodded and took a deep breath, seemingly to gather himself. “In answer to your first question, my connection with your family is this. I met Ingrid when she was a child,” he began. Truth. “I saved her life when her parents were killed.” Truth. “I was a close friend and watched her grow up.” Truth. “I was there when she took custody of your sisters and when she adopted you.” Truth.

“I’m telling you all this now because the monster that made me what I am, is here. He’s here for you.” He looked at her again, pleading with her to believe him.

“Why me?”

“We are soulmates,” he asserted. “And we are prophesied to destroy him. Rumplestiltskin.”

She was speechless for a long moment.

“Rumplestiltskin?” she croaked, finally finding her voice. “As in Rumplestiltskin Rumplestiltskin? The fairy tale Rumplestiltskin?”

“All the fairy tales that you know and love, were, at one time, real. They happened to real people. Their true stories have largely been lost, but some still survive in some form. The true story of Rumplestiltskin is much more sinister than the fairy tale you know. He was the first vampire. Created by Darkness from the dawn of time. The baby from the fairy tale was my older brother, Liam. When my mother defeated him, he swore vengeance upon our family. He took that vengeance thirty years later. He murdered Liam, in front of me, and then made me what I am. It was then that I swore vengeance upon him.”

Her heart flooded with compassion for him. The pain of that loss lay plainly upon his brow. She reached out and threaded her fingers through his. He looked up at her, surprised. “I’m so sorry. It may have been hundreds of years ago, but it obviously still pains you.”

He gave her a small smile before looking down at their joined hands. “It does.” He squeezed her hand and ran his thumb along her knuckles. “But this helps.”

“Liam’s murder and my turning happened on the Jolly. In the captain's cabin. I couldn’t return home to my family, so I renamed the ship and became a pirate. In 1650, I found a prophecy in my log book. A prophecy concerning the destruction of Rumplestiltskin. The Blue Fairy, she was the fairy godmother to our family, wrote it. I found it then, but promptly forgot about it until almost sixteen years later. When I met my soulmate for the first time,” his blue eyes bored into hers, “Emma Swan.”

Emma gasped. “Me?”

“You,” he confirmed.

Emma’s head was spinning. As much as she believed him, she did, trying to wrap her mind around everything he had already told her was proving difficult. He was her soulmate. Her soulmate! Did soulmates even exist? Apparently they did, given the connection that she’d felt since she met him. She looked over at him, knowing that the trepidation she was feeling had to be written all over her face. He looked at her so earnestly, so hopeful, with so much love. As nervous as he obviously was to begin his story, none of those nerves were in evidence now. He had laid it all out for her and was waiting for her response.

“I…” she stammered.

“There’s more,” he continued.

Emma withdrew her hand from his to drop her face into them. “How much more,” she moaned.

“I can tell you more about yourself,” he admitted, “and your past, I can tell you more about what my life has been like. But if you’d rather I not, you’ve got the most important information. We can save all that for another time, if you prefer.”

She raised her head and waved her hands around. “Yeah, I think I’d appreciate that. Don’t think I’m ready at the moment for any more.”

Killian took one of her hands in his own again. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am that our first date took this turn, Emma.”

Captain Nemo approached their table. “How did you enjoy your meal, my friends?” he boomed.

Emma turned to him somewhat startled only to catch a look of significance pass between the two men. “It was w-wonderful,” she stammered. “What?” she questioned, looking back and forth between them. Killian looked back at her, somewhat abashed.

“It’s nothing, Swan,” he contended.

Emma felt the indignation rise underneath her breastbone. She rose from her chair and placed her hands on the table. “Don’t lie to me. I told you I could tell when someone was lying to me.”

Killian’s face immediately fell in shame. “You are absolutely correct, Emma. I apologize.” He motioned back to her chair. “Please sit back down?”

Emma took a deep breath before murmuring her acceptance of his apology and returning to her seat.

“Nemo was relaying what we already knew.” Killian looked back at his friend. “That Rumplestiltskin is outside.”

Emma’s head whipped back to their host so quickly, she heard and felt a pop in her neck. “How do you know?” she asked, astonished.

“I told you, Swan, that he was an old friend.”

Emma turned overwhelmed and incredulous eyes back upon Killian. “Just how old are we talking here?”

Killian’s focus on her face never wavered as he lay yet another truth before her. “Nemo and I have been friends since we met for the first time toward the end of the nineteenth century. Nemo is the Captain Nemo that Jules Verne made famous, in a supposed work of fiction, in the early 1860’s.”

Emma could feel the panic rising up within her, making it hard to breathe. She shook her head again and rose once more. “I don’t think I can handle any more of this.” She could barely look at Killian, not wanting to see the disappointment she was sure was in his eyes. “Captain, would you be so kind as to call me a cab?” She spoke to the table again. “Killian, I can’t… I just can’t right now. Please, just leave me alone.”  Pushing her emotions deep down, Emma turned from the table and walked as calmly as she could toward the front of the restaurant.

~*~*~

Nemo approached Killian, still sitting utterly forlorn at the table. “You’re not just going to sit there, are you?” he asked.

Killian looked up incredulously at his friend and rose from the table. “Bloody hell, of course not! With Rumplestiltskin out there? What do you take me for?”

Nemo chuckled. “Just making sure, my friend,” he said, clapping him on the back. “Your cab will be here in moments.”

Grim determination adorned his features. “Thank you, Nemo. I’ll not let anything happen to her. Not this time.”

“I know you won’t,” he replied. “That’s why I asked for two cabs to be sent when I called. I knew you wouldn’t want to let her out of your sight.”

Killian rose from the table and placed his hand on Nemo’s shoulder. “You surmised correctly, my friend.”

“She is still in the lobby, waiting for hers. As soon as they arrive, I’ll get her on her way, and then you can come out. I don’t imagine that she’d want to see you waiting as well.”

“I’d imagine not,” Killian conceded.

Nemo left then toward the front of the restaurant. Killian turned toward the glass wall. “I know you’re there,” he growled, “and you’re not going to get her. Not if I have anything to say about it.” His eyes flashed red, and he stormed out of the room.

~*~*~

Emma stood at the door to her room when the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. She had understandably felt anxious from the moment she had left The Nautilus. As much as she hated to admit it, she felt exposed and out from under Killian’s protection. She’d had to fight with herself to not rub her arms trying to will away the fear that licked under her skin. But now that fear was intensified for no apparent reason. She opened the door and entered the darkened room, closing and locking the door behind her.

That only made the goosebumps already along her skin tighten even further. The panic from earlier was making a reappearance as she made her way to the bed to turn on the lamp at the bedside table. She drew in a stuttered breath as the lamp cast its soft glow around the room.

A sound she’d never heard the likes of in all her born days drew her attention to the corner of the room. It was a giggle. Of course, she had heard a giggle before, but this was altogether different. It was a sound that she could imagine coming from a homicidal maniac on the big screen or from a creature released from the pits of hell to do what it pleased with the inhabitants of the earth. It was full of a depraved glee that shot waves of terror down her spine.

She turned toward the sound and beheld something that she couldn’t have conceived of in her worst nightmares. Green skin shimmered in the low light, lank hair lay hopelessly tangled around its face, but it was the eyes that forced the scream out of her mouth. At the same instant, the creature waved its hand towards her and the scream was cut off as if with the sharpest knife. She was frozen in place, unable to move as the creature moved deliberately towards her.

She should never have left Killian. It was one thing to listen to what he had to say. It was another to believe and trust him. But it was altogether different to see the things he spoke of alive and in person. At the time, it was a bridge too far to stay with him. And she was going to pay the ultimate price for her folly. She was about to die at the hands of this terrifying monster. Her frozen state notwithstanding, the terror and panic were about to steal her consciousness away. Red eyes and fangs were going to be the last things she ever saw. A lone tear tracked down her cheek. I’m sorry, Killian.

~*~*~

Killian arrived at Emma’s door with the Blue Fairy only to find it locked. The fairy closed her eyes, apparently trying to ascertain if there was any danger nearby. He knocked on the door.

“Emma, it’s Killian, darling,” he said, as he rattled the door knob in his hand. “Please let me in. I don’t want to leave you alone with Rumplestiltskin still out there.”

The Blue Fairy’s eyes flew open. “He’s in there!” she cried, “He’s in the room with her.”

That was all Killian needed to hear. He backed up and kicked the door in with all his might. His beloved was standing near her bed, frozen. Just as he had been all those years ago. His sire stood several feet away from her yet, not having had enough time to execute his foul plans. Killian rushed to Emma and gathered her frozen form in his arms.

“I’ve got you, my darling,” he crooned in her ear. “I won’t let him hurt you. Blue will take care of him for the moment.” He turned to where the two magical beings were locked in a fierce struggle. Dark and light magic sparked and crackled between the adversaries as they met in the center of the room.

Killian lifted Emma in his arms and called to the Blue Fairy as he ran out of the room. An inhuman howl of rage followed them out as the fairy shrunk down to her normal size and led them out the fire exit into the night. Once they were outside the building, she waved her wand over Emma’s frozen form. The enchantment that held her dissolved and she collapsed into Killian’s arms.

“I’m sorry,” she sobbed, “I’m so sorry! I never should have left you!” She cried into his shoulder as he held her tightly against him.

“Shhh,” he crooned, stroking her hair. “Shhhhhhh. You’re safe now. I’ve got you.” Turning to the fairy who hovered a short distance away, he asked, “Can you transport us to the Jolly? It’s still at The Nautilus.”

“Of course, Your Highness,” she agreed. A cloud of blue smoke enveloped them and the next thing they knew they stood at the helm of the Jolly Roger. They looked into the restaurant where they had enjoyed a marvelous dinner only a short time before and saw Nemo standing at the window. His face was suffused with joy as he raised a hand to them in farewell.

~*~*~

Once they were out to sea, Emma knew they had over half an hour before they’d arrive back at Killian’s estate. She leaned on the gunwale and stared out at the moon and stars shining down on the gentle waves. The chill that pulled her toward Killian was ever present when he was near, but now, she knew he stood just behind her.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” she asked.

“Aye, beautiful,” he murmured.

She couldn’t hold back her smirk. “Why do I have the feeling that you aren’t talking about the same thing I am?”

He mirrored her position against the gunwale and looked down at her. “Perhaps I’m not,” he agreed.

“I’m sorry for running,” she confessed, looking down at her clasped hands. “I just couldn’t…” she paused, searching for the right word,  “deal… with everything you were telling me.”

“You’ve no need to apologize, Swan,” he demurred. “Laying all that on you at once, when our attachment was still so new… anyone would have reacted the same.”

“But I nearly lost you,” she began, “because of my foolishness. You almost lost me. If Rumplestiltskin had succeeded, I’d be dead right now and we wouldn’t be able to destroy him.”

Killian turned and gathered her into his arms. “Oh, my darling,” he whispered into her hair. “We are soulmates. Unbound by time. This is the fourth time you’ve lived, and if that monster had taken you again, you’d eventually be reborn again and we’d destroy him next time.” He continued to stroke her back and she could feel the last of the fear and anxiety at what had happened tonight leave her body. With a deep breath, she melted further into his embrace. He pulled back slightly until he could look into her eyes. “I’ve waited centuries for you, my love.” He pulled her back to him. “And I would wait centuries more. I’d go to the end of the world for you. Or time.”

“What if you made me a vampire?” she speculated. She looked back up at him. He was already shaking his head. “Is that possible? Do you know how to do it?” She was starting to get excited. She plowed ahead, even in the face of his reluctance. “Then he couldn’t kill me. I’d be able to stay with you, but we could take our time and formulate a foolproof plan to destroy him, and when we were ready, we could bring the battle to him, instead of always being on the defensive.” She was rambling now, she knew it, but she had to convince him that her idea had merit.

“Emma, I could never inflict on you what was forced on me,” he began.

“But you wouldn’t be inflicting it on me,” she interrupted. “I’m willingly asking for it. Think about it. Please, think about it. Promise me that you will. This will work. If you agree.”

The pleading desperation in her eyes was his undoing. Killian sighed. “I don’t need to think about it,” he acknowledged. “You’re right. Making you a vampire, like me, would give us the greatest weapon available to us, time. And protection for you that in 350 years, I’ve been unable to provide. The night you and your family left Massachusetts, he was waiting for me in my kitchen when I arrived home, holding Starkey captive. I was able to subdue him that night because actions I had taken years beforehand had finally given me the advantage in our strange, centuries long relationship. When that was over, Blue gave me a vision of how to destroy him. But that doesn’t mean that it will be easy, nor that we’d be ready to try it in the near future.” He breathed deeply and released a long, slow exhale. “When we get home, I’ll show you to your room and I want you to really think about this. To really deal with everything you’ve learned tonight. You needn’t fear him breaching our sanctuary. That night, before she left, Blue placed magical barriers around the estate and the Jolly that prevents him from entering.”

Emma rested her head back on his chest, her soul enveloped in peace. Peace only he could give. The peace that came from finding her soulmate. The one she was destined to be with. The one that she would remain with. Forever.

~*~*~

Thank you for reading and sharing!

#cssns20 #of darkness vampires and soulmates #krystal writes #art by spartanguard #ch6

[sassenach-j]

When the Wind Blows

ch 1 / ch 2 / ch 3 / ch 4 / ch 5 / ch 6 / ch 7 / ch 8 

Thanks for reading :)

Chapter 9 - Forever

It was a most perfect morning as Sam and Cait woke up in each other’s arms. The sun was beaming through the curtains which produced a warm glow on their faces and lit up the room. They were in complete bliss. 

“Mmmm are ye really here? Or am I dreaming?” Sam’s eyes were still closed as he held onto her tight. “If you’re dreaming then so am I. And if so, I never want to wake up.” Cait snuggled into his neck, kissing him there and breathing him in. Sam lifted her chin, brushing away a few strands of hair covering her face, and softly kissed her forehead. He then moved to the bridge of her nose and then her lips. 

“This is simply the best way to wake up. I’ve dreamed about this since the day you left. To finally be here in your arms. It’s everything.”“And the day is just getting started,” Sam whispered in her ear.

“The sun feels so good on my face. I can’t believe it’s going to be in the 80’s here today and it’s in the 40’s at home! That’s it, I’m never leaving.” “Oh don’t tease me like that, Balfe, because you know I will happily hold you to that!” Sam’s chest twitched under her and she knew he was smiling. “How about we make some omelets for breakfast and then head out to Lion’s Head?” “I am quite famished,” Cait said, looking up at Sam with a playful gaze. “Oh there’s always time for that,” Sam said, biting his lower lip. He took her right then and there. “Well now I’m really famished,” Cait giggled as she rolled off of him. “What a coincidence, now so am I! For food this time.” Sam winked and planted a firm kiss on her lips as they got up and headed towards the kitchen.

They finished up breakfast and filled their backpack with some snacks, sunscreen and water.They arrived at Lion’s Head by late morning and began the climb up to the top. It was pretty steep in some parts, so Sam kept a hand on her lower back in case she stumbled. “Umm Sam, my back is a bit higher up.” Cait laughed not minding at all.“Oh did it slip down to your perfect arse? My apologies,” Sam said, smiling so hard his nose scrunched.

It was so crystal clear out, you could see for miles. The ocean was a magnificent blue with what looked like a turquoise glow along the edge by the shore. “This is the most beautiful view I’ve ever seen!” Cait’s mouth was agape, looking from left to right and spinning herself all the way around in awe, like a kid in a candy store not knowing where to look first. “Have you ever seen anything so beautiful in your entire life?” “Aye,” Sam responded, lost in her, softness in his voice.She gave him a playful shove, a blush emanating from her cheeks. “You are the most romantic man I’ve ever known.” “You make it verra easy,” Sam said through a smile as he took her hand, bringing it to his mouth and kissing her palm. 

“Now be careful over in this part, it can get a wee bit slick with all the rocks and sand clumped together.” Just as he said that, Cait slipped and braced herself with her hands, her knees skimming the rocks.” “Ouch! You weren’t kidding.” Startled, Sam quickly bent down to help her up. “Are ye all right, love?” “Barely even felt anything, I have knees of steel,” she said with a smile albeit a slight grimace. “Shall we go back?” Sam looked concerned.“I’m ok, really! Let’s keep going. I never feel any pain when I’m with you. But I think I’ll be holding your hand from here on out.” “Oh I can happily oblige with that request, milady.” Sam bowed and held out his hand. “I love how dorky you are,” Cait laughed as she slid her hand into his, their fingers interlocking. 

They continued to hike up to the highest point, taking in the scenery and a few selfies as well. They stood by the edge of an outstretched rock formation and Sam got behind Cait, wrapping his arms around her, kissing her neck. “Wow, this is the most beautiful view with the most beautiful woman. I still can’t believe you’re here!” “And you still have me for another two weeks,” Cait said as she laid her head back on his chest, turning her face up to gaze at him as Sam pressed his lips against hers. 

“So besides my clumsy nature, this was a perfect idea. And a perfect day.” “The day’s not over yet,” Sam said with a wink.  They spent some time up at the top, walking around and taking a few moments to relish in the view and in each other.  They took some silly selfies and lots of pics of each other and the scenery. They then sat down for a while, nibbling on some protein bars and water, while resting their legs before the trek down.

When they arrived back at Sam’s place they went out on the balcony and had a glass of wine. The air had gotten slightly cooler and the breeze felt so good against their body after the hike. “I could get used to it here,” Cait said with a deep sigh. “On second thought, I could get used to anywhere as long as I’m with you.” Sam reached over and gently stroked the back of her neck. Cait’s hair was still in a ponytail from the hike, and she was glistening. “Sam, I’m all sweaty back there.” “Like I would ever mind? You’re even sexier when you’re all sweaty, if that’s at all possible. He pulled her chair closer to him, and softly kissed the nape of her neck. “Mmm salty,” Sam said as he trailed his tongue up towards her ear.” “That tickles.” Cait shuttered as she instinctively brought her shoulder up to her ear.“I have an idea,” Sam said with a wistful look in his eye. “Oh yeah? What’s that?” “It’s a surprise,” he said as he got up and started to walk back into the living room. “Wait, where are you going?” Cait furrowed her brow, wondering what he was up to. “Give me five minutes and I’ll come and get you. Stay right there though. No peeking.” “Sam Roland Heughan, what are you up to.” He gave her a look. “Ok, ok, I’ll stay put.” And with a wink, Sam was gone.

Five minutes later, as promised, he came back out onto the balcony and got Cait. He put her wine glass down on the table and took her hand, leading her through the living room and down the hall into the bathroom. Cait’s eyes widened as she saw candles lit, and a bathtub full of water with suds building up along the sides of the tub. “You drew me a bath?” Cait’s voice was all high and squeaky. “Babe, I love this so much.” “I thought you could use a nice warm bath to soothe your body after that stumble, and clean off those scraped knees. And selfishly, I want to bathe you.” Sam put his arms around Cait from behind, squeezing her tight, planting a kiss on the cheek. “It’s perfect. You’re perfect. I guess I won’t be needing any of these sweaty clothes anymore.” “Allow me. It’s all part of the plan,” Sam said with a smirk.Sam slowly and methodically helped Cait off with her T-shirt, pulling it up over her head, followed by unclasping her sports bra and sliding it off, as well. He took out her hair tie, and her waves fell amongst her shoulders. Cait slid her bottoms off and turned to face Sam. “All ready! Bathe away.” And as she was standing so close to him, she could tell he was ready for something else entirely.

“In you go.” Sam held her hand as she stepped into the warm, soapy water.  She sank down into the tub with a pleasing moan as the water came just below her shoulders, barely covering the tops of her breasts. Sam was kneeling down beside the bathtub. “Mmm this feels amazing. You’re too good to me,” said Cait, turning towards Sam with her eyes closed as a smile radiated from her face.  Sam moved closer so their foreheads were touching, and instinctively their noses grazed against each other back and forth ever so slightly. “So how do those knees feel now? They look a little better than earlier.” Cait had her legs bent so her knees were now above the water. Sam leaned into them and gently kissed each one. 

“All better now. Your kisses work wonders. They’re magic. I’m cured!” Cait giggled as she caressed his chin, the scruff thankfully still prevalent on his face even after getting it cut for his new film. She loved the feel of his beard, especially as it brushed over her lips and face. He leaned over to kiss her, lingering as he always did on her lips. “Oh do they now? Where else might my kisses work wonders?” A mischievous expression crossed Sam’s face. “Oh I think you know,” Cait answered back, grabbing his hand and placing it between her legs. Sam caught his breath, letting out a sound from deep within.

He began to pour water over her back and shoulders, using a yellow ceramic pitcher he found in the cabinet. He filled back up and continued around to her front, spilling it over her neck and breasts. His other hand was quite occupied at the moment, with Cait squirming beneath his fingers. “Two questions,” Cait began, finding her breath....”why are you wearing all those clothes, and why are you not in here with me?” “Aye. Two verra good questions. I like tending to you in this way, being able to see all of you, and how enjoyable you feel right at this moment. But, I do believe there is room in there for me,” Sam said with a crooked smile. “Plenty of room. And if not, I’ll slide back up against you so we conserve more of the space.” Cait’s cheeks were beginning to flush at the thought. “Well aren’t ye the most thoughtful.” “I aim to please, sir.” And with that, Cait reached over and lifted his shirt up over his head. “Well this is a good start,” she continued. “Now off with those shorts.” Sam did as he was told, and once completely naked he stepped into the tub behind Cait. “Well now I’m enjoying this view quite a bit,” she blushed.

Sam slid in behind Cait, his legs outstretched in front of him with Cait leaning back between them.  He grabbed a small towel sitting at arms length on the counter, dipped it in the water and rubbed the bar of soap on it. He brushed Cait’s hair away from her back and ran the soapy towel over her shoulders and neck, moving down to her back. He then glided his hand along her back, feeling her smooth skin as the soap began to foam on her body. “Oh you can do that all night if you’d like. It’s ok if our skin becomes like a prune. You sitting behind me, thighs squeezing onto me and rubbing your hands against my skin? Yes, keep going please.” “As you wish.” Leaving the towel hanging over the tub, Sam’s hands then traveled around to her front, massaging her breasts, then sliding up to her neck and back down; the soap making everything more slick. He cupped her breasts again, squeezing gently and circling his finger around her nipples. 

Cait’s hands were under the water massaging his thighs, feeling him quite aroused behind her. Grabbing the soap from Sam, she lathered up her hands and reached back, caressing his face, neck and shoulders. His hands were still all over her body, now traveling down to her thighs, grabbing hold with a fierce need, while pushing himself against her. “Have I thoroughly bathed you to yer liking?” Cait reached behind her back, grabbing for him. “Oh that you did. You tended to me quite well. Allow me to return the favor,” she said as she slid her hand up and down his shaft, Sam biting into her shoulder with every stroke. Cait lifted herself up, knowing it wouldn’t be so easy in the water, and attempted to slide onto him. “Ok, this isn’t as easy as I was hoping,” Cait groaned as she just couldn’t manage to slide down. Damn water makes it difficult.” “Hmm how about if we try something new, with the hopes we don’t go toppling off the tub.” “I’m game,” Cait said with a quizzical look on her face. “The water is umm, quite drying, which is quite the oxymoron, but in this case it’s true. How about if I sit on the ledge of the tub, legs dangling in the water for support, and you sit on me the same way. I won’t let ye fall.” “I will try anything with you which results in you inside of me.” Sam stood up and sat on the ledge, grabbing the soap and lathering up his hands which he then covered on his member. “Oh I like this idea,” Cait said as she stood up, back to Sam, and slowly sat down right on him. They both let out a moan as Cait flexed her hips up and down while Sam held onto her, arching his pelvis simultaneously. Cait grabbed at his thigh with one hand and pushed her other hand against the wall. She was panting, her legs tiring, but she completely ignored the strain. “You come up with the best ideas,” she said as Sam’s hand traveled to her front, his fingers teasing her. It didn’t take long for both to find their release. Cait collapsed down on Sam, her full body weight on top of him.

While in bed, in their post sex glow, Sam reached into his nightstand drawer and pulled something out, keeping it tucked in his hand. “I have another surprise for you,” he said with an almost shy demeanor. “Another surprise? You’re spoiling me, Sam.” “Oh I hope so.” Cait saw his hand clasped around something and propped herself up on her elbow, grinning from ear to ear in anticipation. Sam scooted himself up on the bed so he was sitting a bit more upright.

“I got something for you soon after I arrived here in South Africa. Not to sound too cheesy, but,” Sam continued as he opened his hand. “It’s a promise ring. No matter how far apart we are, it’s always going to be you.”

Cait’s face was one of pure surprise and awe and happiness all in one. The ring was stainless steel with hearts etched into the band going all the way around. “Oh my gosh. Sam, it’s so beautiful. I love it so much. I love YOU so much.” She sat straight up, grabbing his face with both hands, kissing him hard on the mouth. “I love you more,” he said as he slipped it on her right ring finger. “I know the distance is difficult, but whenever you’re feeling lonely or if you ever doubt how much I love you, just look down and you’ll know.” “I’ll never take it off,” Cait said as she twirled it around her finger, amazed at this man in front of her. 

Sam brushed her cheek with the back of his fingertips, stopping at her mouth, gently pulling her bottom lip down with his finger. His mouth closed in on hers and they sunk back down into the bed, completely lost in each other, both knowing that this, what they have together, is forever. 

#SamHeughan #caitriona balfe #sam x cait #sam x heughan #samcait #caitrionabalfe #fanfiction #fan fic #fanfic #my first fanfic #My fic #when the wind blows #whenthewindblows

[derhaifischderhattraenen]

tagged by: @kernprovinz

tagging: @radiomayak @fury-of-argos @tsarnarozite @gebrochener-adler​ @a-lion-roars​ @zdravstvuysclntse​

FULL NAME: Michael Arwin Schröder, he was named by the members of the German order upon its foundation. Schröder however was his last name since birth.

GENDER AND SEXUALITY: male, bisexual but so far into the closet he lives in Narnia and throws a fit if people merely joke about him having a thing with guys

ETHNICITY AND SPECIES: Northern German, representative/nation

BIRTHPLACE AND BIRTHDAY: He was born at the west coast of modern Germany in the area of the state of Niedersachsen. Michi hardly remembers his old home. As far as birthday goes he has no idea when the date is and never bothered to set one. He celebrates his name day, which is on September 29, according to his patron saint Archangel Michael .

GUILTY PLEASURES: If asked directly Michael would state that he has no guilty pleasures. He either does things he openly admits to doing or he does things that he is extremely insecure about and you shouldn’t poke fun at him for it or it’ll end badly.

That said there are quite a few things he does other people would call sinful. Like the fact that he shamelessly wears socks in sandals and loudly listens to 80s disco music. Then there is his obsession for overly expensive cars. He doesn’t even drive all of them but he buys them anyway and throws loads out money out the window! 

PHOBIAS AND FEARS: One of his prime fears is the fear of being unloved by his little sister. He knows he has been a shit person in his life and a shit brother and while he would never openly admit to it there is a small voice in his head telling him that she resents him for the misfortune he has caused her. In connection to this another thing he fears is that he was still the person who committed all of those horrible acts, that being a warmongering monster was his true nature.

FAVOURITE BOOK GENRE: As silly as it sounds but he loves non-tropey fantasy novels and stories about the medieval era. You’d think he would know better because he lived through the hardships of that time but he feels absolutely nostalgic about the middle ages. Another sort of genre he loves is sci-fi, especially scientific ones. The ideas for new inventions, the strange alien creatures and stories about distant planets. He just sucks it all up.

WHAT THEY WOULD BE INFAMOUS FOR: Michi is infamous for his temper tantrums, his shit sensibility in conversations, his rude manners and the fact that he always was more of a peasant soldier than suited to be a kingdom. He is also infamous for his sort of military obsession, though today he tries to fight that.

WHAT HAVE THEY/WOULD THEY BE ARRESTED FOR: Most of all war crimes and murder. He has killed a lot in the name of Religion. On top of this during the GDR era he willingly committed repeated acts of vandalism, rebellion, revolting, smuggling (items and humans), digging tunnels under the border, listening to illegal music, holding illegal meetings and many other crimes. Michael is also still frequently arrested for starting bar fights.

CHARACTER MOST LIKELY TO MURDER THEM: France and/or Bavaria

CHARACTER(S) YOU SHIP THEM WITH: I don’t really have an OTP for him. It’s like if our muses get along then heck yes lets try it. Though of course I can’t deny that there has been a muse where I especially enjoyed their mess of a relationship. In the end I just don’t see any particular match as his go to ship.

WHY SOMEONE MIGHT LOVE THEM: Michael has an air of confidence and boldness about himself. He is honest, straightforward and not afraid of backing down or saying what was on his mind. Frequently there have been characters that admired there traits about him. I would also say his dedication and ability to persistently work towards a goal are to be inspiring.

On a more personal level what makes him even more likeable is how social he is. Michi will talk to anyone, try to get to know them, have a pleasant conversation and hope to seem approachable. Unless something grave happened he tends to have a cheerful manner about himself and encourage people to join him. Even more so when you gain his friendship he becomes very attached, helpful and kind. Michi would die for his friends and family and he doesn’t hesitate to do the world for them.

WHY SOMEONE MIGHT HATE THEM: He has a strong tendency for throwing fits and going into tirades about the dumbest things. This can be caused by just the tiniest of comments! Overstep his boundaries and you die. Ironically however Michael will not give a damn about overstepping the boundaries of other people. If they can’t take it then they “are too sensitive” and “need to stop being whiny pussies”. He is also in general very unpleasant for timid characters for he straight up refuses to have respect for them. 

Another very infuriating feature of Michael is that he tends to believe he can’t be wrong about things. Especially when he is upset it takes quite a lot of hitting his head until he understands that he may have been overreaction and that he probably has seen things in the wrong light. 

HOW THEY CHANGE: Boi this is a looong story lemme tell ya.... When Michi started out as a wee lil kiddie he was actually a quite sweet obedient child, although he did give his guardians quite a bit of a headache with his shenanigans. However as he grew older and gained more lands as the German Order he really escalated into this whole idea of “I am the divine chosen one, the incarnation of Archangel Michael, who shall bring salvation to this world!!” and he just got... so intense! He was extremely invested in his goals and actually quite arrogant and a know it all.

Then all of it came crashing down when the order was destroyed by the enemy and he spend so many years just sulking over it. Once he accepted his fate and started working for Poland he more of less became a good boy again, he was living his life satisfied with what he has instead of loosing himself in some mad fantasy. Nevertheless he was a cocky young man and childishly egoistic, straight up refusing to do anything for anyone from the German nations because he was still salty about them not helping him when the German Order needed it. 

At the time he quite frankly did not the deserve the kingdom title but he took it and spitted on anyone who was mad about it. He didn’t know at all what the heck he was doing though so Michi had to learn to cooperate and be less of a shit. So I’d say he became pretty nice for a while though there, albeit still a stupid lil’ shit. Then Napoleon happened and it really messed him up. As it all went down he became quite mature but also cold and power-hungry and more angry than before. He started to have this ambition of proving everyone how powerful he was and literary walked over corpses and suppressed people to get what he wanted. It all just escalated the more successful he was until it came crashing down on him starting with the first world war. Then thanks to the second one he spend quite a bit of time on a depression trip. But once he got over it Michi developed to wanting to make up for what he broke and be a better person. Not saying he has become an angel but he really did change for the better. 

WHY YOU LOVE THEM: I mean first of all I gotta admit I love asshole characters. I just love writing a muse with glaring flaws and problems. In this case it’s the way how intense he can be about certain things. Push the wrong button and he goes off and you can’t get out of it, he just keeps going. Also how he is just such a goddamn hypocrite at times. The way he talks can just be atrocious and it makes him so fun to write. But while Michi is a jerk he is also quite sweet and endearing. He can turn to sugar when talking to the right people! And he has the right notions that steer him towards wanting to do the right thing despite his angry fits and idiocy.

Speaking of which one thing I also love about him is his idealism that very often fights his own desires. He is very much immersed in his belief system and wants to stick to the rules as good as possible but sometimes he just.... well. Michael is very much emotional and can’t resist at times. 

Another thing I love is his brutal honesty. Sometimes I seriously can only call him stupid for what he says but no matter what he refuses to back down from it. Michi is just the head-through-the-wall sorta type. He don’t give a shit if there was an open down right next to it, he chose the wall!! Fuck what anyone else is saying!

There is so much more but I think I already typed long enough of a novel here...

#about this assholes #headcanons #boi this got fucking long

[starry-kfics]

a perfect match [myungjun]

word count:  1902

warnings:  none

extra info:  you’re like,, 4 years older than your friends whoops

author:  krys

“Fight me, you attractive stranger”

♡

The successful clinking of the puck shot into the goal triggered a chorus of yells and laughter from you and your friends. You, the air hockey champion of the night, celebrated another win against your opponent, who was currently preparing herself for a spicy ramen penalty.

Since you were on a holiday vacation, your friends have planned the day out to hang at the Gala Mall, a three-block outlet that was known for its high-end boutiques. Instead of shopping at the pricey, brand name stores, however, your group has decided to spend their day window shopping, eating at the top-of-the-line food courts, and messing around in the mall’s ginormous arcade, all the while doing crazy tasks for money.

To explain, near the beginning of this endeavor, your trust-fund friend Karin brought up a proposition: she would dare someone to do something, and if this dare was completed successfully, then she would buy that person anything they wanted in the mall. This has caused some of your friends to carry out some of the most hilarious and socially-embarrassing challenges throughout the day, just for a designer fur coat.

“Karin, you need to dare (Name) to do something, or else we’re all going to have to eat that nasty, spicy ramen.” Hyesung pleaded as Sohee and she passed by the girl, wallet in hand and the air of defeat portrayed through her actions. The “nasty, spicy ramen” was one of the entrees featured on the arcade’s menu, in which has become the current penalty for any given challenge. In your opinion, Hyesung’s adjectives for the dish were too kind, since your mouth has been pulsating with heat for the past seven minutes.

Karin looked up as she finished posting a video on Snapchat. “Oh, don’t worry, I have something in store.” Karin replied with an angelic smile to you, in which you huffed in amusement.

“Um, no, I would prefer for Karin to have to eat the ramen; she deserves it.” Yoona spoke up from her side of the air hockey table. You could tell that she was still salty about her failure of a dare given from the youngest of the group.

“Guess I’m going to have to call that hot barista from the coffee shop and ask for a cup of snake milk then.” Karin bantered back, soaking in the amused reactions from everyone else and avoiding the hand of her unnie.

“Um, wee-woo, wee-woo, alert to the door. All eyes on deck.” Yukyung suddenly said in a rising tone as she reached for Yoona’s shoulder for support. You looked in the direction that she was staring, and coughed out a quiet “Oh, Lord.”

Walking into the arcade were three guys, two shorter than one, and all of whom were agreeably attractive. You didn’t have to look at your friends to know that they were most likely ogling the newbies, sizing them up and checking them out.

You scoffed and looked away. It was fun to check people out when you’re with friends, but you were a little bashful to be so upfront about it.

“Guys, let’s go, I want to play the racing games now.” you brought up to the girls, wanting to change the point(s) of interest before any attention goes to your area.

Yoona shrugged the fawning Yukyung off of her and nodded, joining your side. “Yeah, and Hyesung should have her order of ramen by now, so let’s go to the eating area and watch her reaction.” Karin turned around and exclaimed, “Yes, good idea! Let us go there right now!” Karin and Yukyung both bolted to the eating area, giggling all the way through.

“Well, they were fast to agree with me.” you said with a huff. Yoona smiled.

“I think they wanted to go over there because that’s where the guys were heading” she informed as you two followed the trail of the youngers.

Yoona left your side once the eating area was in sight, which was conveniently placed next to the racing games. Once situated at one of the driver’s seats, you leaned to peek around the machine and caught Hyesung’s first bite of the cursed noodles. You laughed out loud from her face freezing up from the taste, not caring if your reaction was a bit strange to an outsider.

You swept your eyes across the eating area and accidentally made direct eye contact with one of the three guys. In that heartbeat, you carefully observed the other man, taking in all of his facial features. Your snap judgement screamed that your friends were right: he was very good-looking. Feeling ambitious, you tilted your head cutely and gave a wink before leaning back into your original position in the seat.

You quietly squealed to yourself and shook your head. Your friends’ playful attitudes were getting to you. To forget your silly behavior, you inserted two coins into the machine and began to choose your race car. However, in the middle of your second race, a hand surprised your concentrated state. You looked up to the suspect as your now-crashed car was being towed away.

“Hey, (Name), guess who who has figured out your dare.” Karin said in a sweet tone. You groaned as the youngest of the group pulled you back to a table in the eating area.

“Yah! We’re going to talk about (Name)’s dare now!” Karin announced, not caring that she was being rude to her unnies.

“What do you have in mind?” Sohee asked as she rested her head in her hands. Karin leaned forwards, her sly smile and giggly tone showing that she had something good.

“Well, I have decided to make (Name) here,” Karin began, glancing to you before motioning towards the the gaming area, “go to one of the three hot guys who walked in and challenge him to a match of air hockey. But!” Karin licked her lips before explaining, “First words have to be ‘fight me, you attractive stranger-’ nothing more, nothing less- and you have to flirt.” You scoffed in agony as the rest of your friends began to gasp and chuckle.

“If you win the air hocky match, then I will buy you something, but if you lose, you will have to ask for his number! And you have to call him cute!” Karin smiled triumphantly at her plan. You didn’t have any time to give your opinion, for your friends were already egging you away from the table. With a defeated groan, you prepped yourself as you weaved your way through the arcade machines.

It wasn’t that hard to find the trio, since they were quite easy to detect by ear from the occasional screaming. Conveniently, the three were spread about, playing their own games. You leaned against a retro-looking machine and crossed your arms as you thought out your game plan.

Your eyes fell on the man you subtly flirted with from before. He was playing a duck-shooting game by himself, and was obviously winning from each adorable victory jump he made. He was probably the shortest of the three, but he was the most animated. Something about how he carried himself and his quirks made him seem more approachable than the other two. Swallowing your adrenaline, you pushed off from the machine and decided to wing it.

Luckily, you didn’t have to awkwardly tap on his shoulder or anything, since he turned around when you neared. You two made eye contact, and you made sure it was direct. You noticed that the man’s mouth was slightly open, and his body had tensed up. You licked your lips.

“Fight me, you attractive stranger.” you said in a smooth tone, before following up so the tension wouldn’t be too unbearable. “Up for a match of air hockey?” You smirked as you waited for a response.

It was a miracle that the man was able to crack out a word. “Oh- uh, y-yeah, sure, I’m down.” You smiled warmly and tilted your head to the side.

“Awesome.” You let your eyes sweep up and down the man, knowingly making him self-conscious. “I heard you and our friends playing earlier, and seeing as I am the champion of this air hockey table tonight, I wanted to know if I have any upcoming competition.” You walked to the table, the man trailing behind you in a nervous trance.

“So, is there a name I should know you by?” you asked the man, drinking in his current state. Surprisingly, he got a hold of himself.

“Ah, my friends call me MJ. What should I know my opponent by?” he asked back as he picked his striker and side to play on. You giggled at his sudden confidence. You made a great choice to choose to approach him.

“(Name). I’m glad that we’re apparently friends now.” you said in a joking tone, looking up to glance into MJ’s eyes a tad longer.

“So, if I win, then I get to keep my title of air hockey champion, and if you win, then I get your phone number. Alright, ready? Let’s go!” Without letting MJ say another word, you leaned over the table to get the first hit on the puck placed in the middle. With a yelp, he quickly moved his arm to hit the puck away from his goal.

The game was intense, but only because you and MJ made everything much more extra. At some point, his two other friends came over to watch, and didn’t ask any questions about who you were or how everything started. Though, in the end, you made a hit directly into MJ’s goal, and the machine played a little fanfare to signify your win.

“Ah, that was a really close game. It was fun to watch, though.” One of his friends exclaimed, who was noticeably shorter than the other. The taller boy (who you guessed was younger than all of you) remained indifferent.

“Well, I was expecting MJ-hyung to lose. I just let him win today, that’s why it might’ve seemed like he plays well.” The taller boy instinctively screeched when MJ came to slap him on the chest. The two friends bounded away, not wanting to face their hyung’s wrath. You slowly walked to MJ’s side of the table.

“Guess that air hockey champion title is still in my hands. Sorry there, cutie.” You gave yourself a mental fist bump for completing Karin’s dare. You were still annoyed that you had to do this, but for some reason, you didn’t regret a single second of it.

MJ did a subtle double-take, obviously trying to keep his composure from the surprising pet name. “Oh, well, since you have two hands, I guess I could also give you another thing to carry, such as my phone number?” Now it was your turn to double-take. Despite the bantering you two had during the whole game, you were still surprised from his amazing comebacks.

“Ah- um, what was that?” you let out in disbelief. MJ then took out his phone, his grin being illuminated by the screen.

“If you open up your contact list, then I’ll be able to give you my phone number, cutie.” he said in a teasing voice. You suppressed your giddy smile by rolling your lips in.

“And I’m recieving your phone number only for rematch reasons, correct?” you questioned, your tone playful.

“Of course. Only for rematch reasons.”

#drabbles: mj #astro #astro drabbles #drabbles #astro imagines #astro scenarios #mj #myungjun #kim myungjun #myungjun scenario #myungjun imagine #kim myungjun imagine #aroha #fluff #mj fluff #author: krys #*krys #q #yeah so all of my drabbles now are gonna stay under 2000 oof oof

[pkmntrainergreyze]

The Emo School (Chapter 3)

Previous

Chapter 3: Modern Day Pain...

I didn't fail the test, I just found 100 ways to do it wrong. -Benjamin Franklin

09/14/01 FRIDAY

D A L L O N   W E E K E S

"Cocaine is God's way of saying you're making too much money, now that's just bull-f*ckin-sh*t Robin Williams, debunked"

I don't know how I got my hands on a 1000 funny quotes book, I don't know why I'm even reading it. Life sucks, that's how it works.

I'm contradicting myself am I? No? Okay, let's keep it that way-

"Dallon have you seen my cra-" he stopped my destructive train of thoughts that will have me go psycho again.

"No Brendon, ask Pete" I replied with a blank stare

"Uhh... no thanks"

Sycophant

Now, I guess that's my hypocrite self spitting venom. To think that I actually managed to slack off this shift made me wanna throw up. Just anxious stuff, sounds like a blog name, if I had access to blogs and not MySpace would have done things like that a long time ago.

(we have Tumblr Dal— oh wait, this is the early two thousands lel)

I'm think I'll the pink slip anytime soon, I can't help it, those lingering devils are going to be the death of me. I mean, once I enter the class I feel like choking myself for a trip to the clinic.

I sound like a really problematic guy, but then again, almost everyone has bigger problems than me. I just need to thank God I'm not in Pete's shoes.

I promise I'll do much better next Monday.

Seriously.

But then again, the students here are already talented and intelligent, sure with some exceptions nevertheless I'm still frightened by them.

"Are you just going to sit around inside the faculty Dallon? I think your students are worried. You don't have to worry about Miss Flack you know she regretted being the rebellious stage"

Snapping my head to the direction of the voice with a bit of distraught, I sighted Tyler with a box of cereal.

"Hello Tyler"

"Hello to you too Dall-"

"Salutations!"

There popped Josh with his trendy hat on, newly dyed hair, no care, like he didn't interrupted a conversation earlier, but I didn't mind and Tyler didn't seem to be upset either, they're friends after all.

"Have you seen Brendon?" "Yeah, asking for the same question here as well"

After Josh spoke, Tyler indeed raised his hand like an average student. I remained in my position before answering their very opposite toned questions "Yeah, he was just here a while ago before you entered, he probably went back to find his wee- lunchbox"

Josh smiled while Tyler's eyes furrowed a bit, questioning me with a hint of concern. "Thanks Dal, see ya later!"

With that, I was left in the room with an awkward situation with Tyler.

"U-Uh, see you later as well"

Thus, they both left the scene.

Tyler seems a little less confident today, a little more perplexed. Oh well, it is Tyler Joseph.

Sighing a bit, waiting for Brendon to get in trouble later on; I opened the book once more, licking my fingers, before entering page three hundred and ninety-four.

●-----------------------●

"Guys can someone name all the borders Egypt has-"

Riiiiiiiiing

"A-alright I'll see you all next Tuesday"

I didn't even notice the clock, oh well. Maybe I'm not fit for a History Teacher. I'd sometimes wish they could just find a replacement so I could retire and not feel bad about it.

I could hear the continous rumbling noises from the students' side of the room once they dragged the chairs out to stand up and leave. It did took me a while to understand the salty aftertaste it left on my mouth. Instead of complaining I just readied myself for the next class to enter and... Probably chew gum and place another batch underneath the tables... Our poor janitor's been through a lot today.

Chewing gum isn't cool or the janitor won't have fun in school.

That... It reminds me of Dad...

●-----------------------●

"How can you say sorry to a man who's probably high on drugs?" Ryan pondered as he took a sip of milk through a white and red stripped bendy straw.

I stared at his looking-through-space form.

"You're the philosopher and a very known substitute science teacher here, I'm pretty sure both things go well if you're a pro, you tell us"

Silence.

Then it hit me

"Wait— is that why Brendon's not here?"

That childish man-child wouldn't stop doing weird things huh? Yesterday he texted me saying stranger things with the lines of "quitting pipes", making me look like a very guileless teenager who just learned what methamphetamine means.

What—of course I knew what drugs are!

What do you mean Brendon sprinkled 'magical coke' on me, coca cola isn't a very solid material—

"Yeah, I told him to fuck off yesterday, I was really pissed off when he told me to put back the white cheese in the grocery shelves"

Of course that would happen.

"I don't know Ryan, treat him like a human being-" he gave me a mini glare, oh shit I didn't mean for it to sound... Nevermind.

"s-since some people think stoners don't have a life" I added to make it sound more... decent.

How do you control men at their age of 27? Exactly, I don't get the appeal on doing it as well, let them run around, do weird crap that'll get them fired.

Actually, don't do that.

I wonder if Brendon's interested in things like the 27 club-

No Dallon, bad thoughts Dallon. Bad thoughts.

"Just say sorry or something, give him space when he avoids you a bit too much... "

That advice sucks so bad, just like the way Ryan eats his cheese whiz.

I hope Ryan doesn't blame me if everything went downhill

"I'm blaming you if everything went downhill" He laughed after saying such playful words that make me shiver "You're too easy to read Man-Tree, and yeah, I know, it's okay if you didn't have any idea what to give for an advice"

At least he took a hint on not doing what I said.

Wait did he just compare me to a tree, I feel sorta honored—

From the corner of my left eye; I saw Patrick sprinting away confused and scared of Ryan's words.

"Eh, now I understand why Patrick would start to avoid me" "You can say that again"

●-----------------------●

I'm still unsure how to feel about Miss Williams' presence in the cafeteria. I mean, sure, she's known for being a great librarian and she also teaches in the senior building but still...

I'm still not used to seeing her here rather that seeing her inside the library, reading somethings I don't understand.

"Geez Dal, is it really weird for me to buy food here?"

"Yes Hayley, it just is"

She laughs and put down the tray on top of the cliche tables. The clock strucking on twelve would make sure that break's over.

"Well, get used to it. I'm tired of waking up early to make lunch, and besides food here is amazing" Her laugh has always been familiar for everyone. The Juniors considers her a cool and casual teacher that they'll love to learn from... Wish I could be like that, not complaining though, I love Dadlon.

"Hey, I'm not saying you shouldn't eat here and all"

"I know Dal"

●-----------------------●

"I feel like the electrolyte in a battery terminal"

"Why so Frankie?"

"Please don't call me that Dallon" Frank cringed before rubbing his shoulders while it shook. Seems like only Gerard can get to call him that, what a shame.

"I just got here, what happened?" I threw the plastic from the burgers straight down the trashcan, he just watched and waited until I come back.

"Welp, two of my rad students just roasted one another and now teachers are pretty much asking me things I don't even know" He sighed, stressed.

"I mean, how am I supposed to know what's the cause of the problem?" He flipped his hands and shrugged, as of to look clueless and annoyed.

"Don't you roast people?"

Okay, why did I say that.

"..."

"...Oh yeah I get it, whatever. I'm proud of my students, if I we're the principal I'll let them graduate" His comment of self awareness isn't making things better.

●-----------------------●

"Hey Brendon you alright?"

Brendon's been pulling his hair for a straight minute, he's bent over while sitting on his chair like he's going to break any minute, of course he's not alright.

"I-I can't take it"

His eyes looked puffy from both crying and a side effect of something I wouldn't wanna know.

"Shh, it's going to be okay" I tried removing the hands he used to cup his face but he appears to be much stronger than me.

He curls up, knees now covering his eyes and his arms strengthening the force that defends his pride.

"What happened?"

"Re-relapse? I don't f*cking know. I've been trying to make myself think that I won't be smoking but it always ends up like this Dal"

"Shh, shh, I'll tell Pete you're sick, I'll substitute"

Okay, wrong move, I don't know how to deal with students. But for Brendon... I wouldn't mind helping... He's a great friend after all, even though he's kind of a dick.

"T-thanks..."

"Anytime"

●-----------------------●

"It gets tiring honestly" I sipped on a new batch of coffee I prepared just two minutes ago while Ryan speaks gibberish, well, genius gibberish... That's not a thing I know.

"Sometimes people just forget that they should know who's worth their time and happiness or not, and they'll often use destructive emotions to get into the way of their relationship until two sides wouldn't dare speak with each other while one is hurting" He continued as he licked on the spoon of Cheese Whiz, gliding the cheese up to the tip of the spoon.

"Tell me Dal, have you given up a friendship?"

"Well, I don't think I have the guts to" I spoke with honesty "—but I should do that"

"Wow, that's kind of not conforting my situation right now"

"Oh sorry"

"But in all seriousness, I just hope he makes up his damn mind and if he ever says it's over then he should just keep it like we're strangers."

"Geez, you sure are quite frank with this. Have you lived through a rough path or something?" I successfully lightened up the mood, I can see Ryan smiling fron the corner of my eye.

"Well, you can't trust people easily who knows, they might steal your cheese" I raised my eyebrow in confusion.

"Ryan, no one says that"

"I did so deal with it Dallon"

●-----------------------●

"Hey there Mister Way" Micheal looked from his behind to see me greeting him "I've heard you've been visiting the music room with Mister Toro, what instrument are you interested in again?"

"More like forced by my brother and Ray, they want me to play the bass" Sounds about right.

"I could help you, you know?"

He shrugs "Thanks"

That blank stare would be the death of me, he looks like that one hero in an action movie that does Karate and that has bad temper.

Why is the Way brother's so complicated?

●-----------------------●

"Joshuuuuaa"

"Tyleeeeeer"

I witnessed one of those amazing scenes a human eye could record.

It was the miraculous handshake that the bestest friends does whenever they had the chance. Yeah, it may not be that rare of an action but it something that keeps me going.

"Woah, that's so cool guys!"

That was a big mistake.

Tyler hissed and threw his arms around Josh's neck while he tried hard to carry his odd friend. "Woah Tyler!"

"He. Just. Witnessed. Our. Secret. Handshake!" He hissed once more, emphasizing on each word. He added more stress on it than any normal person would.

"It's not that big of a deal—" "Of course it's a big deal Josh! That was something special to me! To us!"

Can I compare Tyler to a cat by now?

Seriously, he sounds like a cat thats been impaled with a knife to the gutter.

... Don't ask me why I know this.

●-----------------------●

"Okay Brendon, truth or dare?"

"Uhh... I'd say truth"

"If Ryan, Dallon or Spencer were to be hanging at the edge of a cliff, who would you pick?"

Brendon smirked as he continued to share a gaze with Spencer, who's shaking his head with the similar curved line plastered in his face.

"We all know the answer would lead to some four-thousand long *ss fanfiction"

What does he even mean by that? What's a fan fiction? Whatever it's probably Ryan. Although he wouldn't talk about him since...

wait

"What happened with you and Ryan?"

There was this prolonged silence that shouldn't have been that long if Brendon decided to speak early but he decided to go against the idea. He just stared, a little empty, like the time he was pranked

"He's having emotional mood swings inappropriate for his age, is all"

Well, I wouldn't call it a mood swing.

I mean, Ryan just love cheese, it's not like he's actually addicted to it like people joked around, right?

"Not true babe, I remember him using Cheese instead of cucumbers for therapeutic purposes" He emphasized on Babe and Therapeutic Purposes just to lace a sarcastic vibe on the topic about Ryan...

....

Nah, not true.

"Well, suit yourself"

I don't know why I'm easy to read.

"Because you're saying things out loud Mister Weekes!" The british transferee answered in such amusement. Spencer choked on his drink as he attempts to stiffle a laugh while the others, such as Josh and Frank (Iero, getting tired of correcting what Frank am I talking about with how many Franks are there) did not show any shame.

"Am I really saying it out loud?" Murmurous was the way my voice behaved. Patrick frantically nodded "Hells yeah"

"Hells yeah? Mister Stump says Hells Yeah?" Pete chimed in, slipping a seat next to Patrick and Tyler. "For the record Patrick, I am not letting you forget that, it's just historic- oh Mister Sheeran can you please hand the books you used to Miss Williams? It's been a week. Thanks"

As soon as the last student left for such 'delivery', the sounds of students seems to be getting farther and farther; with the exception of those who stays to wait for their service/school bus of course.

"What's up?" Pete joined the party.

"Nothing much, just our traditional Truth or Dare Friday, Brendon's turn to ask" While Joe—who just finished his class at Grade Twelve—spoke, Pete sips into his starbucks coffee.

"Cool, continue Brendon"

"You in?"

"Nah"

"Pay for view."

Joe's small joke sent Pete a payful glare at the Trohman-Fro man. "Later", he answered.

"Well, Gerard" there was this sparking tension once Gerard's responce came knocking "Yes?"

Brendon's face turned rock solid, like some action movie interrogation is about to happen as he stared at what seems to be a "punk criminal" at the moment and he was Clint Eastwood. Gerard didn't even flinch or look fazed, but rather reserved. "Do you believe in aliens?"

The fuc-

The question made him flinch real bad, some shocking news right? Brendon smirks, but no laughter was heard from him, rather the other players—plus Pete—in the game.

"I-I-uh..." Gerard pushes the stray locks of hairs behind the back of his ear, odd enough, I could now feel his nervousness. What, is he an alien or something?

"I-I'd say I'm a little too hesitant to answer that"

"Boo" Pete's response made others laugh along, although Gerard did glare at him.

I never thought a mysterious—and almost nefarious—character like him woulf sound nervous and look sweaty at that moment, "it's like that moment came from somewhere else"

"Agreed" Spencer replied in approval.

I'm speaking out loud again am I? Is this because of my lack of sleep? Yeesus— I mean... Yeah.

"Imagine if Gerard's an alien" The thought was bothering me and I have to say it, sorry "I mean, he looks like he could be one— I mean, he loves the scent of drugstores"

The conversation carried on with Frank adding details and the others consistently listening to his talk about Gerard's secret origins fron Reprise, even made a narration out of it

"And he's the artist who would get out of a planet called Reprise since he's so f*cking lonesome— Oh let's give him a acquaintances" Frank glances at the others with cheeks puffing from the breath he's beginning to hold, Pete laughs "How 'bout an alien space companion?"

"Oh! How about a pink masked alien-"

"no" Gerard blocked but Spencer's muffled laughs is still heard.

"-named Lola!" Josh's voice has audible enough and Gerard-proof for everyone to hear

And thus, this ship about an imaginary alien and a grumpy teacher was born

●-----------------------●

"Are you sure he didn't say that in a more normal way? Are you sure this story is real? I mean, it's a bit too descriptive if you ask me that's kinda skeptical—"

"No, he said it in a Gerard Way, of course he's weird Dallon. All the teachers here are way too young and talented Dal, they say and do weird things" Pete said, pathetically laughing at his own joke. He didn't mind though, he's too happy to even care. "And incase you forgot students here are as talented as well, only this time they're quite well known, and you're special too Dallon, you're a well known bassist not only in town you know? So hearing a story about a drunk comic artist isn't that odd if you know where to go"

"I... I just don't believe he would go around and say Easy Peasy Pumpkin Peasy and stuff like that..."

"He also said Pumpkin pie motherfucker in case you forgot" He added in such delight, I swear if this is some japanese cartoon there would be flying sparkles everywhere.

I stayed behind because I have to prepare myself for upcoming Summative Assessments and since I already noted Pete that Brendon won't come he said I should do his work for tomorrow. Welp, this is what friends are for, some are worth doing examinations for.

"Well, you haven't heard of Brendon's campfire stories back then haven't you?" Pete asked with a small smile, I shook my head to say no.

"No, I haven't"

I just came to this school last year, in November so I missed the month.

"Eheh, he should be doing that soon, our camping is in October after all, shame you didn't git to attend last year too" He teased "—he loves to freak kids out. I remember that one time he told the story of... What was that? LA Devotee was it? Oh, he doesn't only do horror, he actually tells some funny ones... He'd act drunk and tell history stuff just to mock the old history teacher"

I bet you all twenty bucks he was drunk, and about the history thing....

Looks like I'm not looking forward to that.

"Aww, don't be Dal" He pouted as he placed the globe on the top shelf "He just love to tease the guy so much, gosh I couldn't remember his name"

"Looks like you're old enough to retire" Joe chimed in with a small joke that had Pete to glare at him.

"Not yet Joe"

"Heh, my bad"

"I haven't heard of the old history teacher"

"I think his name was Briar or something, we're not that close" Joe shrugged as I almost wanna place my grabby habds to his hair. "He never really came back since he had to take care of something"

"Oh, I see" I just hope Brendon doesn't make fun of me at camping

"Oh dear, you're about to see how things go down in history at October. Some retirees would visit the school at the month" Pete smiled once more before snapping his fingers "Oh yeah! Last time we had Mister Tre to roast the kids' marshmallows"

"Yeah and he almost burned his clothes"

"It was pretty dope to see him roll around" Joe added more to his statement before chuckling loudly.

Our twittering didn't last long, like it usually does. Pete heard a call from his phone in the office, wow, he sure has some very nice hearing.

"Woops, be right back!" He left the room after he pointed his index finger to us.

"Bet you ten bucks it's his father"

"No need Joe, I already know it's him"

"I really love the way Pete still loves his Dad even though he just let him control one school, unlike his siblings" I chortled this time "welp, I think his father's just testing him. I think he's still new for a Principal"

"Yeah that's true, seems like only yesterday we'd jam out into Green Day and Misfits" He reminisced over the past memories.

"Wait, are you guys almost at the same age?"

"Yeah, Pete isn't that old as he looks. He's so fuckin' immature back then you know? God, his hair sucks so bad back in his emo phase"

"I HEARD THAT!"

Joe frozed but then the ice melted away when I snickered at the newfound look

"BUT ITS TRUE!"

Haha, yep. I still wanna teach at this school.

I looked around the office once more and found something pretty odd. It was a picture frame with four veey familiar figures.

"Is that..." I pointed at the object as Joe tilted his head lightly before snapping.

"Oh, that picture? Yeah, that was when we were to take a picture for an album we never really released"

"Really?" "Yes really"

"Then why does Andy looked like he's been edited to the picture?"

Joe snorted

"Andy always poses in that semi-sideview way, he's really there when the picture was shot. I swear" He said in all seriousness to stress on his words. I rolled my eyes.

"I doubt that"

"Oh why wont you ask Andy" "Wont be be offended though?"

"How would Princess be?" Joe stared with sincere confusion "He'd probably laugh cause it's true"

"Would he? That's more like your thing Joe" I muttered lowly but hoped for him to hear the words at the same time.

"... Yeah you're right kiddo"

I picked it out, thumbs onto the front frame and the others to support it. It was filtered in a light blue shade. It was Pete, Andy, Patrick and Joe from left to right. The names were written in beautiful fonts and were printed nicely, although seeing "Peter" and "Joseph" still makes me uncomfortable.

Joe was right, Pete's hair does suck so bad.

"Ouch, you guys are teaming up on me now? Jesus" Pete soon entered without me noticing, eh, I don't care if he heard my thoughs anymore.

"Hey, don't say his name in vain Peter" Joseph scolded with a small smirk when he said his name.

"Don't be a hypocrite Joseph, remember Senior Prom?"

"Oh I remember your geeky dance very well Peter" Joe laughed as he got coffee from the machine. Pete laughed as it seemed like the plan of bringing back awkward memories backfired.

"Whatever Joseph Roughman"

"I'm pretty sure the announcer at that time was kinky as hell" Joe and Pete continued the conversation, forgetting my presence. I don't mind, it's funny to watch them being so comfortable.

"Ah, didn't Patrick had this tied hair to the back that time?" "I think so, although nothing can defeat Brendon's forehead"

"Ye-yeah, right" Pete slyly hid his with his hair with a crooked smile. "Right..." He reassured himself, Joe smirks larger than earlier.

"Welp, we sure had good times with the band huh?"

"Yeah... I miss screaming"

"Eh, I miss Patrick's soul voice more than yours"

Pete glared at Joe as Joe defensively raised his two hands high. "Just sayin'! Just sayin'!"

"So... What was the name of the band?"

"Not was Dallon, it's kind of an underground band but we're Fall Out Boy"

"So you guys still a thing?"

"If you meant in a four-some gay relationship hell no, but sure why not?" Joe winked as Pete shivered in disgust

"Joe you disgust me" "I could tell that myself Pete"

"Don't mind Joe, but yeah, we still are. It's just that we're on a break for a while now" Pete grabbed Joe's empty cup into the trashcan as he asked for. "—I mean, even Ryan and Spencer was in a band with that Brent guy"

"Brent? Like Brendon?"

"Nope, Brent is a different person from our beloved B-den"

"Oh, never really knew about him" I sighed then placed the picture back at the table to which I saw it first. Pete gasped once it processed.

"Wait, you haven't heard of it yet? They'd use to play as Slight Anxiety or something, but Brent left and all. They're pretty well known in Nevada, New Jersey and Chicago. You probably heard of them from Mister Gioia as well" After Joe stated it I just brushed it for now, I should ask him that tomorrow.

"Nah, not really"

"I should lend you my copy of the cds sometime. Although don't forget, the titles are really wordy" His offering made me smile. Joe did the same. Wow, they're acting like a very supportive family, I might get my Dad vibes on.

"Oh, thank you. I'd love to hear it— I mean it's not like I'm doing that cause you're my boss or something but—"

"It's okay Dal. No problem" He understands.

#panic! at the disco #fall out boy #patrick stump #pete wentz #andy hurley #joe trohman #brendon urie #dallon weekes #ryan ross #spencer smith #jon walker #my chemical romance #gerard way #frank iero #the emo school #TES #green day #billie joe armstrong #tre cool #mike dirnt #I sometimes wonder why I wrote Tre as a brilliant scientist but then I remember his fab hair... could have been Billie too but naaaah #good luck reading for next chap of campfires and drunk history with breadbin urinal #thank gosh not one student from class reads my stories #should i add imagine dragons or somethin? #hayley's in the next chap I promise #*(I promise)

[takemeawaytocamelot]

Red Jamie and the White Lady - Part 21

Still blown away that ANY of my works have reached 20+ pages. This story is so much fun, though, and such a challenge. I wouldn’t have gotten as far as I have without @diversemediums and her amazing brain. (We seriously had a long brain-vomit text match the other day and it was amazing.) I cannot wait for all the spinning pieces to come into play and get all worked out.

Catch up on chapter 20 HERE

Finally a week had gone by and Claire was ecstatic to see Jamie again. Murtagh left a short, vague note for Raymond informing him that they’d be back within twenty-four hours.

Much as she’d rather be in the cottage with Jamie, locked in their room for a day, Claire agreed they should stop for supplies first. With Jamie on full lock-down, he couldn’t leave to get food or other necessities. So she and Murtagh stopped to shop for a little bit before they made the rest of the drive to the cottage.

Just seeing it come into view gave Claire a thrill of excitement. Jamie would be waiting for her, just inside the door. She could almost smell him, could almost feel his soft hair sliding through her fingers, almost taste the salty sweat on his neck.

Instead, she restrained herself and helped Murtagh with the groceries, waiting while he unlocked the door. They looked at each other with worry when they heard multiple voices coming from somewhere in the cottage.

“No no!” chirped an unfamiliar voice. “It is naughty!”

“How is it naughty? It’s a game!”

“Oui, a game! But the club has games too and sometimes I play with them.”

Jamie, the other voice floating down the hall, scoffed.

“You’re only a wee lad. Ye dinna play those sorts of games.”

“Just look at it! Even without being carved it looks like a cock and ball!”

“Ye… Ye mean, they… Christ, lad! Ye canna be serious!”

A clack of wood on wood echoed toward Claire and Murtagh.

“Oui, I would not lie about something like that! One of the girls, Daphne I think, had one carved to look like a-”

“What the hell is this?!” Murtagh barked, staring at Jamie and a young boy.

Both figures shot up from the floor like cats caught in a trap. Claire had a moment to think that if she wasn’t so shocked, she might have laughed. That impulse quickly left as questions and worry entered her mind. Murtagh was already striding into the room.

Jamie stood and met Murtagh face to face. Claire started. It was the first time she'd ever seen him so angry. The young boy backed away, pressing himself against the wall.

“This is Fergus. Weel, his name is really Claudel, but we both agreed that wasna verra manly.”

“Ye broke yer word!” Murtagh shouted. “Ye promised ye’d stay here while I took yer woman to get training! Ye canna be leavin’ the house, ye fool! Do ye even ken how many people are after ye? What would they do if they saw ye just putterin’ about in the open!?”

"I dinna need ye ordering me about like a wee lad!"

"Perhaps I wouldna need to if ye pulled that thick skull out o' yer arse. What the bloody HELL were ye THINKIN' lad?!"

Jamie’s fists clenched at his sides. Young Fergus began backing away from the group.

“Murtagh, really,” Claire snapped, bringing the attention of all three males to her. “Why don’t you run to the kitchen, Fergus? You’re welcome to anything you can find. We’ll be back soon.”

The boy scampered off, leaving the adults to argue in relative peace.

"I will do what I must-"

"Aye, do what ye must to get captured and then where would ye-"

"Nothing. Happened."

"This time."

Jamie's eyes flashed a blue so brilliant it looked almost white.

"I wilna let-"

"Jamie, he's right."

Jamie swung on her, the fury on his face making her heart stutter.

"Are ye no’ my wife, Claire? Are ye no’ mine to protect for God's sake?"

"I didn't need protection, James Fraser, I needed you HERE waiting for me. Everything was in hand."

"Oh aye," Jamie said softly. "Aye, in hand. What would ye say when I tell ye that this lad was hired to trail ye?"

Everyone stopped.

“What?” Murtagh bit down on the single word.

“I was worried someone might have found ye both. So… I took a quick Look.”

"Ye used yer Sight? Despite everything that's happened over the last months? How many times ye came close to bleeding out and dyin' before our verra eyes?"

“Aye!” Jamie shouted back. “I did use my Sight! And it’s a good thing I did! I watched while Claire walked down the street and into a shop. The boy had been followin’ ye both. Studied yer faces so they’d ken ye no matter what.”

Claire’s heart skipped and began racing. They’d been followed and no one had known. Murtagh hadn’t known.

“Y… You’re sure?”

Jamie nodded, eyes still raging.

“Aye, I’m sure. I kent what was happening when I Saw it.”

“Ye mean to say a wee thing like that trailed me and I didna ken it?”

“Is that no’ what I just said?!”

Murtagh waved dismissively at him, which seemed to irritate him further.

“Wi’out yer healer,” Murtagh muttered. “I still have nightmares of the last time ye Looked wi’out her!”

“Look,” Jamie said, waving at himself. “I’m fine. No’ even a headache.”

“So let me get this straight,” Murtagh said, pacing again. “Not only did ye Look wi’out yer bloody healer about, but then ye left the damn house and brought the wee spy home?! Of all the bone-headed, stupid things to do!”

Jamie’s eyes sparked as he met Murtagh’s glare, both men one word away from killing each other. Claire exhaled slowly, trying to remain calm.

“Murtagh, could you leave please?” she asked, meeting Jamie’s glance with a cold one of her own. “I want to talk to him. Alone. Please.”

Murtagh made a scottish sound of derision and shook his head, muttering Gaelic curses as he left the room, closing the door behind him.

The wee spy was in the kitchen, digging his grubby paws into everything he could reach. He sat on the countertop, legs dangling.

“Put that down! Ye canna be eatin’ out o’ the box wi’ yer hands!”

The boy gave him a flat look.

“Why not?” he asked, digging his hand back into the box.

“Because it…” Murtagh was temporarily unsure what to say. “It isna sanitary. When was the last time ye even washed yer hands?”

“Yesterday.”

Murtagh nearly yelled at the lad when he saw the glint in his eyes. Suddenly the voices from the other end of the cottage got louder. The boy flinched as Jamie’s shouts echoed from the room he shared with Claire. Murtagh sighed, exasperated with this whole damn mess. If the lad was here, it was for a reason. He knew Jamie would never have brought someone home that would have put him - or Claire - in danger.

“Come on then, laddie,” Murtagh said gruffly. “Let’s get ye somethin’ to eat.”

“Oui? You did not bring enough when you came today.”

Pursing his lips, he ruffled the boy’s hair and pushed him gently out the door.

“Aye, weel, I didna ken Jamie had brought home a stray. Christ, lad. Did ye eat at all?”

Fergus shrugged.

“Jamie said I could eat as much as I liked if I came back with him. He promised you would keep me safe.”

Of course he did, Murtagh thought to himself.

“Weel, so long as ye dinna prove to be a double agent.”

Murtagh drove the young man into town and let him choose where to eat. They would pick up supplies for the kitchen after.

“So, Fergus,” Murtagh said while the boy gulped down his drink. “How long have ye been followin’ us?”

“Since you arrived in Paris, I think. Maybe a little after.”

“How did you come to spy for these people?”

Fergus stuffed more bread into his mouth. It reminded him of Jamie at that age, constantly eating whatever he could get his hands on.

“I picked a man’s pocket. I’m a very good pickpocket. But he found out and here I am.”

“Do they know where we are? Do I need to get us out of Paris?”

He shook his head.

“No. I could not follow you out here. It was too far. And I could never follow you back to wherever you stayed in the city either. You move like a shadow.”

Murtagh smiled a little, taking pride in his ability to keep his godson safe.

“Have ye finished?”

Fergus pointed to the scraps on Murtaghs plate.

“Are you going to finish that?”

Once both plates were practically licked clean, Murtagh took Fergus to get more groceries. Again.

“If you do not want me to stay,” Fergus said in a very quiet voice. “I will go. I can disappear again. I do not want to make everyone angry.”

Murtagh sighed.

“It isna yer fault, lad. No’ really. It’s only that we’re worried about Jamie. His life is in danger if the wrong people find him. And he can be a bloody stubborn man.”

“Will she be angry with him for long? She sounded very angry.”

At that, Murtagh laughed.

“She’ll be angry as long as she needs, lad. Dinna fash o’er much. If I’ve learned anything about our Claire, it’s that she can be just as stubborn as our Jamie. But they love each other. They’ll be alright.”

Pulling into the driveway, Fergus helped bring in the groceries, already munching on something. The cottage was quiet and Murtagh smiled.

“Fergus,” he said. “What was that game ye had earlier?”

Fergus broke into a wide grin.

#outlander #outlander fanfic #red jamie and the white lady au #takemeawaytocamelot #diversemediums #Jamie Fraser #also featuring: murtagh #claire beauchamp #also featuring: fergus

[inkofamethyst]

April 29, 2019

Okay so we wrote this devised play in theatre about identity right?  And this was earlier on in the year, before the theatre teacher ~left~.  Anyway the plot centered around how these four (archetypal) students were in detention due to a disagreement about a project that they failed.  One character was a full-on jock, one was the quiet kid, one was the nerdy brainiac, and the other was a kid who was super busy because they were trying to find something they were good at but nothing was quite right.  I helped to create the nerd character, and I ultimately played the jock, but I suppose that’s neither here nor there.

I bring that up because I literally just realized how much like the brainy character I am.  I have just completed my second project under this new theatre teacher (she’s having us study different theatre influencers once a month) in a group, and my group buddies all ended up waiting until the last minute to complete their sections, not to mention the fact that we have a poster to complete that (surprise, surprise!) hasn’t been finished!  And honestly, I did my part.  I created the shared document, I finished my part of the powerpoint, I drew up my part of the poster, and I’m even about to print off a picture to add to it.  If the poster doesn’t have all of their information on it by the time it’s due, I guess that’s on them.  I can’t be held responsible for the shortcomings of others.  Will I put in a little extra effort just to show that I tried to do my part and more to the best of my ability?  Yes.  That’s just how I am.  But I have better things to do than to complete a four-person powerpoint where each person literally only has to do one slide that will take them ten minutes or less to complete.

Am I salty?  A wee bit, sure.

Thank you for coming to my TED Talk.

(No, I did not forget about my plans from yesterday.  As a matter of fact I have it all written out in my drafts, but it turned out not to be as exciting in written form as I had expected it to be.  I may post it later, but until then, enjoy this thing from my drafts before I graduate high school and it becomes less relevant.  I wrote it a few weeks ago.  Instead of what I had planned to do, I might just make a list of all the things I like about the school from my own memory.  That’s probably a better idea anyway.)

Today I am thankful for my grandmother and aunt on my dad’s side.  They’re always there for me whenever I need them and they’re always looking out for me, even if it feels like smothering at times.  We have different views on certain things, but I still appreciate them because they’re family (and they load me up with cash on a regular basis so that’s nice too).

Side note: Interim grades for seniors were due today because our remaining time at school is so incredibly short.  Look: We’ve got this week which is just full of AP practice (on Wednesday alone I’ll be doing AP Lit in first, AP Spanish Lang in fourth, AP Calc in fifth, and AP Chem in sixth), then next week which is full of APs (just Tuesday and Thursday for me), then the following week is another AP week and on Thursday we start high school finals.  The week after that is the senior finals week and the week of graduation rehearsals and then our last day is that Thursday.  I’ve got a little under four weeks of high school left, and there’s still so much to be done before it’s over.  I think that my only off-day is going to be next Thursday.  I’m definitely not coming back to school following my chem exam.  I’ll try to come back after Spanish though (and maybe Calculus, depending on whether we’re doing a lab in chem or not (and how awfully tired I feel)) so that I can study for more chemistry if I can.  We’ll see.

Anyway, I’ve got to prep for practice tests tomorrow, but I’d like to go to bed at a decent time instead of two in the morning for absolutely no reason like last night.  What I need to do is stay focused.  And if I get tired and don’t feel like continuing, I’m not going to push it because that’ll only make me feel worse in the morning.

So, yeah!  Until tomorrow, friends!

(No, I don’t know why I referred to the reader (likely myself) as “friends,” but I’m going to roll with it because I’m chronically sleep-deprived (and that’s all my fault, but that’s a discussion for another day).)

[prowlpetrex]

“Absolutely not.” Shere Khan intoned, voice flat. His face was fixed in that “I cannot believe I’m even bothering to expend the merest fraction of my time on this nonsense” look. It was so well performed, he was willing to bet the average person usually only saw it on TV or in movies. He’d found through his own practices in the mirror that conveying the correct amount of sass, exasperation, and self-important superiority without sliding down one side or another to be surprisingly difficult. He wasn’t too worried, his progress made for great selfies, and the tiger was way older than him with years of experiences beyond the bird’s own. He’d get there eventually. Still… he snapped a quick shot of the cat’s expression for prosperity and his online presence’s sake alone. It wasn’t every day you got to see a master of the art of condescending bitch face at play in its natural environment. He felt the tiger’s gaze hone in on him, a frown forming where a tolerant smile had begun to take form when he’d been speaking with Glomgold. A few seconds trekked by, and he relaxed when nothing was said, and the other man’s focus was once more on Glomgold. Onto twitter you go, he thought happily, clicking the ‘post’ button after attaching the perfectly chosen hashtags to it. He smiled and waited eagerly for the ‘likes’ and ‘retweets’ to come rolling in. “And why not?”  Glomgold practically yowled, raising both his fists and stamping up and down like a toddler having a tantrum. Snap and post. Both of them were creating some great material for his blog. He had become more certain of it when the first shot of Khan had reached over 20 likes in less than five minutes. The people had spoken and they were hungry for more. “You are not the acceptable age for one.” Khan said, face devoid of emotion. “And let yet you let Scroogie in on your little game, no questions asked?” Flintheart said, he crossed his arms, face scrunched up into a childish pout. “You two thought you could start a wee bit of an adventure together and leave ol’ Flinty in the dark, did you?” the old duck marched forward, an angry shade of red visible through his feathers. “You are mistaken, my friend.” Shere Khan said shortly, clasping his hands behind his back. His back was straight and firm. He looked the model of patience and serenity, which was enough to tell Mark he was beginning to become annoyed. He didn’t need to know the tiger personally. He was 110% percent sure nobody in their social sphere would tolerate being talked down like that for very long. “Am I?” Flintheart hissed, pushing himself forward and one of the footrests forward and hopping atop it so that the tip of his beak nearly touched the nose of the feline’s muzzle. To the cat’s credit the only sign that this had affected him, was a slight furrowing of his eyebrows before smoothing out his face once more. Seeing perfect blogging material, Mark subtly captured the scene before him. His followers were really in for a treat today, he thought with a chirping giggle. All those old Scottish games had provided him with great material for those who were into historical gameplay, reenactment, or just wanted to keep tabs on what Scrooge and Glomgold were up to now. Their rivalry was infamous enough that it would keep most of them satisfied. Especially since Flintheart Glomgold was perhaps the sorest loser Mark had ever had the privilege to chronicle. It had been hilarious, but for the elderly duck to then follow that up with an argument with Khan Industry’s reclusive founder and CEO over Scrooge McDuck? It made for the kind of material he could only dream of. “Do ye mark me for a fool?” the outraged growl was loud enough to make even Mark flinch, making it all the more impressive that the tiger’s facial features made no outward response. “In your own words you’ve admitted that you’ve allowed Scrooge in on this little game of yours only to shut the door in my face the moment I asked to play along!” Mark smiled, as Glomgold stamped his feet. It was moments like this that made him feel right at home in the Billionaire’s club. Glomgold was an old man, if he had less money people would have expected him to act his age. Instead he was perfectly content to make a feather-brain out of himself on the suspicion that Scrooge and Khan were purposefully excluding him from some sort of secret game they’d planned on playing together. His behavior made Mark feel mature in a respectable way, instead of a dumb “on the way to becoming obsolete” way. When they had all left, Beaks had done a little Q and A to cool down a bit from the earlier excitement while listening to music from on another tab, and watching the cooking channel as he progressed. Staring at a screen too long tended to make him feel exhausted and he didn’t feel like waking up with phone lines on his face again, so he liked to multi-task. Doing more than one task at once kept him awake and aware. Particularly if it was something he enjoyed. Scrooge had reentered the room after some time, and as was typical of the stuck up old guy, he ignored all of the greetings Mark sent his way. He felt his feathers rise up in annoyance, but took to passive-aggressively slurping his Mango puree instead of doing anything he might regret later. He wasn’t at his company where he could do anything he wanted without suffering much consequence. He was among his peers now and that meant playing nice. Besides, who cared what freaking Scrooge McDuck thought of him? He’d sighed to himself. Adulting was hard. It meant you weren’t allowed to be as Extra™ with peopling as you wanted anymore. You had to bide your time for the inevitable takedown to avoid facing the consequences. So he’d silently watched the McDuck leave, head down as if he’d been in a daze. When Khan had returned next, Mark had thanked him, and offered up some constructive criticism on the drink he’d been made. The Tiger hadn’t made his mango puree the way he’d liked it. No shade. No tea. Just facts. The drink had been smooth and silky instead of thick and pulpy like it should be. He hadn’t ordered some Crème Frappuccino, Jen. However, he could tolerate it, knowing he had gotten someone who had a higher net worth than he did act on a request he’d made-without getting all salty about it, well, that was something that just did not happen to Mark Beaks every day. The cat had raised an eyebrow at him before apologizing profusely, his voice thick with obvious sarcasm that had left Mark feeling just the slightest bit annoyed. But he’d shrugged and rolled with the mild sarcasm. Shere Khan had acknowledged him and that was important. The big cat had apparently returned to retrieve the smoothie he’d made for himself, and, having located the objective, stalked slowly towards the couch where Mark sat. He’d stood behind him, drinking the frozen beverage, and suddenly feeling uncomfortably hyperaware of the predator behind him, Mark had felt himself being assessed. For what he did not know, but whatever it was thankfully brief. As if unaware of his discomfort, Shere Khan had simply tossed the cup gracefully into the trash, and bid him a polite farewell when Glomgold had barged into the room with a loud bang. The elderly duck had clearly been in a rush. He was out of breath, gasping loudly and growling out angry Scottish curses. “I have done no such thing,” Shere Khan said, quietly moving away from his conversation partner, apparently on the lookout for another disposable cup. “Really?” Glomgold laughed as he followed the other man, an ugly mocking noise filled with derision. “What was it you were saying just minutes before then, an elaborate lie to make me jealous?” The Scot had first sounded incredulous, but, as he spoke the words had begun to sound increasingly doubtful but its finish. He’d moved closer to Khan, and if Wiktionary had face claims his would be filed under “suspicion”. It was as if the idea, now that the idea had been expressed, the likelihood of the content having been a lie had exponentially increased. “No.” The cat had located the disposable cups that had been placed inside one of the lower cupboards. “Please do not accuse me of falsehood where miscommunication could easily be the culprit.” Exasperation had begun to leak into the feline’s tone, making his words flatter than they would have been otherwise. in a move Mark would never personally have had the temerity to make, the Scotsman took advantage of the tiger’s decision to lean over to grab one of the cups to seize hold of the other businessman’s tie and yanked it hard enough that their faces were now touching. It was also apparently one move too far for the carnivore’s patience because he had stood suddenly and with the swipe of one furry claw pried the feathered hand from his neck clothing with brutal efficiency. Mark checked his phone and sighed in disappointment. He’d expected Shere Khan to do something. There was only so much the typical person would tolerate m\before they either fled or went on the defensive. Unfortunately, he hadn’t been quick enough to catch the scene in action and had captured only blurry outlines from the two of them. Dang it. He deleted the worthless photos from his phone with a little more force than necessary, and waited for the next moment to strike. “Ah, I see.”  Glomgold drew out the final word. “A miscommunication error on your part was it?” The old duck had crossed his arm in a pout. It gave the impression that he was unaffected by the tiger’s growing agitation. “So it would seem.” Shere Khan allowed, making an attempt at civility. “Then what are the two of you getting up to together?” Glomgold made it sound like he half expected the two Billionaires were carrying on with an illicit love affair behind everyone’s backs, and it was perhaps this tone that made Shere Khan sigh in annoyance. “If everything goes as PLANNED, HE WILL AGREE to provide me with the location for an upcoming reality show I intend to produce.” He said slowly, pinching the bridge of his muzzle. There was a clatter and Mark felt the combined gazes of both men focus solely on him. Mark Beaks gave a start then retrieved the phoned he’d accidentally dropped with an embarrassed chuckle. McDuck and Khan would be hosting a Reality TV show together? He felt himself practically salivating at the interest this news would surely generate. Earlier that day, Khan had seemed on edge about people knowing he was into cooking shows. Maybe what had really been bothering him was that he hadn’t wanted any similar ideas between his show and anything currently existing to be seen as an act of plagiarism or a willful violation of trademarked concepts. He didn’t really know anything about the laws governing reality TV shows to be honest. He just liked watching them and, as he did with most of the fine print corporate paperwork, left the majority of the heavy lifting to his legal team. But that hardly mattered when he’d just gotten front row seating on some juicy gossip way before the newsies could sink their own talons into it. This kind of coverage on the lives of the rich and powerful more than made up for the hefty membership fees new members like him had to pay to get their own piece of the action. He fired off a couple of posts in rapid succession and grinned triumphantly as activity skyrocketed on his feed. With any luck, his posts would go viral and his account would get a mention on TV. He answered a few of the more frequently asked questions, then paused. The foreboding feeling that he was being watched washed over him and when he looked up he found himself once more staring into the predatory yellow eyes of Shere Khan. Feeling nervous self-consciousness well up inside of him, he gave the tiger a friendly little wave. The other man seemed to smile before turning his gaze back onto Glomgold, who, after a moment of useless flailing, had rallied magnificently from his initial surprise. “Why not me own property?” The duck said pointing a finger at the significantly larger mammal. “I’ll have you know---” “---Because these contests will be a competition geared toward locating a child of exemplary business acumen.” Shere Khan interrupted, the words logical and cold, but the fact that he was losing the will to remain polite, spoke of his decreasing patience. “Mr. Scrooge owns an actual living thriving city, populated by potential customers.” Glomgold made an indignant grunt, as if to interrupt but Khan wasn’t finished talking yet and spoke over him. “This is something neither you nor I possess, which is why he was sought out, and I refuse to settle for anything less.” Glomgold slumped, defeat splashing across his face. Mark grinned and took another snap of the almost defeated expression on the old Duck’s face. “There must be something I can do.” Flintheart said, he looked like he was wanted to argue, but had no clue what to say next. Shere Khan only shrugged in response. “I am open to suggestions.” He turned to leave. “If you think of something, I SHALL CONSIDER IT.” The words were short this time as he once more turned to leave, clearly intending to make a hasty retreat before Glomgold came up with anything else to pester him with. Before he’d left, Mark seized upon his own opportunity. “Have you decided on the Judges?” the tiger paused then raised a sleek eyebrow at him. “Pardon?” the word was said politely, no emotion crossing his face. “You know, the duderinos who decide whether these kids suck or not?” He asked with a careless expansive sweep of his hands. “I will be looking into potential candidates at a later time.” The tiger said softly. “Auditions will have to be made, and---″ “I volunteer.” Mark Beaks said immediately. Khan shook his head, but the parrot was not letting him off the hook that easily. “C’mon, Shere Khan, my buddy, my guy, my amigo,” he said beseechingly. “You’re going to want these judges to actually be successful businessmen and women, not some small town reject wearing rose-colored glasses and an over-idealistic idea of how the world works on their sleeves.” Shere Khan paused, evaluating, then--- “My answer remains the same.” the words were almost regretful. Glomgold smirked at him. “Sorry new guy,” he laughed. “You’ve got to wait for those feathers of yours to dry before you depend on business reputation alone.”  Glomgold faced Shere Khan with a grin. “I would like to offer up my considerable experience to this project of yours.” He had placed one palm upon his chest giving off the impression that he was a high profile politician swearing into public office. “I’ll have to decline that gracious offer as well.” The tiger said brusquely, and Mark burst out laughing as Glomgold visibly deflated. “What?!” The laughter from the duo’s audience had clearly rankled, offence born of an injured ego. “No one says no to Flintheart Glomgold!” Mark wiped mirthful tears out of his eyes and grinned at the Scottish Duck. “Really, man?” he laughed brightly. “I’d have thought all those years spent as Scrooge’s quote end quote ‘Arch-nemesis’ would have taught you a thing or two about rejection.” Glomgold glowered in his direction but Mark didn’t care. He didn't like it when people were condescending towards him, and he refused to tolerate it from anyone without saying anything in return. “Be that as it may” Khan directed the conversation back onto its previous conversation, perhaps worried the two would cause a scene if they didn’t. “If what you say is true, then I apologize that necessity must force me to be the first.” He looked so genuine Mark almost believed him. “But after the events I witness earlier I really must refuse.” Glomgold looked like something distasteful had found itself lodged in his mouth. The older man clearly believed what was being said was true, which made Mark wonder what had happened that would give a normal person logical reason to decline such an advantageous offer but he could tell it was just an excuse. Mark knew an actor when he saw one and it was clear Khan was after something from Flintheart he felt he would not get by being direct with sharing his desired outcome. The tiger looked ever so regretful before stretching out till his back cracked satisfactorily and once more heading to the door. The limp in his gate was more pronounced than ever as he head out the doorway that would eventually lead to the entrance hall “What if,” Glomgold began, words choked and desperate. “What if I paid you to let me be the Judge?” There wasn’t any visible change in the tiger’s expression but Beaks could feel the other man’s attention zero in on the heavyset duck. “I’d want to know what you intended to contribute.” he said slowly. Glomgold frowned, “I don’t know what's needed for this project of yours.” He confessed. “I don’t even know where to begin.” Shere Khan smiled, pulling out his cell. “That, dear fellow, is what legal teams are for.” Glomgold nodded in agreement and pulled out his own. Shere Khan had requested the assistance of an employee to set up webcams and before long the two were sitting on the stools near the bar, busy ironing out arrangements. Their distraction left him with his own thoughts. Mark wanted to be a judge but it was clear to him Shere Khan didn’t want to pay the exorbitant wages reality TV shows usually afforded their judges. Like many wealthy people Mark had known throughout the years, the man was quite stingy with his own wealth. This contest was probably just a publicity stunt meant to last one season then cancelled after it had drawn more public attention back onto Khan and his company, and honestly speaking here, Mark wasn’t all that comfortable with the whole pay to play concept. Actually paying someone to become a job when most shows would have paid him randomly didn’t sit well with him. Glomgold obviously found it an easy choice because of his long history of defeat at scrooge’s hand and this was a way to one-up the old timer. But for Mark, the choice was not so easy. He didn’t have the same relationship Flintheart shared with McDuck. What he did know made him dislike the guy, and, sure, he considered himself an “antagonist” to the old man because his behavior towards Mark had made him feel things about himself that he’d found...unpleasant when he’d wanted to impress the richest duck in the world and had been summarily dismissed as unimportant. That title was one of many measuring sticks he used to assess his own self-worth. This one for his own personal wealth, which, sadly, wasn’t in the same margin as old man McDuck, but he was willing to bet much of that was due to age. Mark Beaks was still a young man and there was plenty of time to catch up with the man if he was patient. Trouble was he didn’t want to be patient. Another, even more important method of judging his amour-propre was his follower count… which had dropped since the two failures, first the BUDDY system robot and then his brief but highly destructive stent as Gizmoduck, he was ashamed to admit were now attached to his name. Judges on popular TV shows got a crazy amount of followers, so joining this game of theirs could potentially help him regain what he’d lost. His followers were the lifeblood of his company. They were a very big part of the reason waddle had done so well in the first place. But as he watched Glomgold and khan finally reach an agreement with the promise that the duck would for the catering in addition to the promised cash donation, he shook his head with a frown. It was obvious why Flintheart was the second richest duck in the world despite the fact that Scrooge wasted money on stupid superstitious stuff like supernatural defense if his sources. Glomgold, whether it was spending obscene amounts of money attempting to one-up scrooge or building death traps that ultimately failed was just a lot looser with his money than Scrooge was. These were issues born of a raging inferiority complex, and one that would likely doom himself to an eternal position of second place. On the plus side, his flaws made the duck more entertaining to be around. He was that short angry guy nearly every successful squad seemed to have on the TV shows of his youth who was getting himself and his friends into some stupid mess nearly every other episode because he literally couldn’t control himself for more than ten minutes. Sure, he’d yet to reach “friend” status with Flintheart, but it was all part of the plan he’d first conceived on the night of Scrooge’s birthday. It was another waiting game which required him to have patience if he wanted to see it come to a successful fruition, but the idea of developing a tie between himself, Glomgold, and Ms. Beagle was a good one. He was confident that, if he could get Mr. Graves to start returning his phone calls they’d be the perfect quartet. But that would require him to spend more time around Glomgold first. So far the older man seemed content to ignore him in favor of Scrooge McDuck. It had been irritating to be ignored constantly but Mark Beaks was a master at rolling with life’s disappointments and he’d be banned from the internet before he let the old duck’s brush-offs get to him. But, the dawning realization hit him as he watched Shere Khan summon one of the many moles who were employed by the Billionaires club to fetch him the head representative of his legal team, who was currently waiting at the front gate to be permitted access to the exclusive club. If he were to become a judge, not only would his follower count skyrocket, it might give him the opportunity to get Glomgold alone, possibly developing, if not a friendship, then a camaraderie between the known enemies of Scrooge McDuck at least. But it was also important to read the obvious clues Khan was leaving that more or less stated in no uncertain clues that he expected to be given a pricey little nest egg in exchange for their participation and finely made one at that. Going by what he was witnessing with Glomgold, it seemed as if he was not satisfied with accepting monetary bribes alone, which left Mark in a bit of a pickle. What, beyond money, did he have that he could easily part from without much sacrifice on his part…that Shere Khan might actually want? He thought it through as he watched a smartly dressed…canine… of unknown species introduce himself as Tabaqui as he took out several sheets of paper that had very likely been printed on site. The neat rows of printed words were visible but not legible from his position across the room. Taking stock of the new occupant, Mark vaguely thought that there were times when he found it frustrating that it was considered offensive to ask what species someone was. This was one of those scenarios. For the life of him, he couldn’t tell what species the guy was supposed to be, it could be anything, really, from dog to jackal to dingo or even a hyena with really muted coloring(in which case he wasn’t a canine at all since the hyena breeds were a family class all there own), but he was letting himself get carried away. It really didn’t matter what species the guy was so long as he didn’t turn on Mark randomly and ask him what he was. Yup, it didn’t matter at all. He was totally going to Google it later just so he could have that question answered though. Even though it meant nothing. Glomgold, in a rare display of maturity, had actually picked up the sheets of paper and was reading through them in their entirety as he asked questions and had the language edited as he saw fit. They were at it long enough for another waiter to ask if anyone would like something to drink. Khan wrote something on a piece of paper and handed it to the man but the lawyer was the only one to take the employee up on it and before long he was unlocking the wine cabinet and pouring something dark and purple into a glass. The canine(?) thanked him and the guy had returned to the counter to lock the cabinet again. He left the room shortly after, the note the tiger had given him still in hand, but it was enough to have the figurative ball start rolling in his head. B.U.D.D.Y. When he’d seen the notes and blueprints for the machine online, the user had mentioned the robot was useful in locating keys. His first batch of the models had proven to be a failure as the robot had shown itself to a temper that exceeded their actual size, but perhaps that could actually make them useful in this little contest Khan was throwing down. One of the most important skills an up and coming business owner needed was customer service skills. It paid to be seen as charismatic. The B.U.D.D.Y. robots would required delicate handling if the contestant was to avoid setting off the robot’s rebellious ‘KILL’ mode. Anticipating a high consumer demand, he’d had ten robots made. Following the trial run, they’d been scheduled to be decommissioned and scrapped for parts he’d use on any one of his other projects. However, if his robots got Khan’s attention, well, maybe they wouldn’t be considered quite the failure after all. Following the contest he could even have them sold as souvenirs from the show. Provided the customer signed a lengthy contract stating he and his company were in no way responsible for any damages that might occur following the sale. Mind decided, he approached the table where the three men were reaching the finalization of whatever it was they’d agreed upon Khan’s man noticed his presence. “Your witness, I presume?” The canine(?) asked with a rakish grin. Glomgold grunted a short unimpressed “He’ll do.” and before he knew it papers were being foisted on him by the lawyer as he translated the agreements between Khan and Glomgold from legalese into plain English, and a pen was being pressed squarely into his palm by the old duck, demanding that he sign the firms stating he had seen the deal between the two take place, that they’d both been of sound mind, and neither had threatened or otherwise coerced the other man into action. It had. It had been altogether too much. “Now, now.” Khan laughed amiably, watching the spectacle in amusement from his corner of the table. “I do believe you’ve frightened the poor chap.” Mark Beaks would have liked to have refuted it, and some part of his mind did object to what the tiger had said because it really wasn’t fear that he felt now. His mind was dissociating which was an entirely different than fear, but his mind had gone temporarily numb and he had frozen in place. But the tiger’s words did have the desirable effect of getting both men to stop talking, and more importantly cease touching him. So he could not bring it in him to despise the feline too much for his words. “As you both are aware,” Khan continued, a passive smile crossing his face. “A witness is not required in a contract such as this, however,” the last word was spoken over whatever Glomgold had tried to say. “I took the liberty of requesting the presence of notary.” Khan said shortly. “Ask the manager of this establishment to give the surveillance footage of this arrangement, and pass it to him, so that he might do his job properly.” Khan stood and Mark Beaks was suddenly made very aware of how very tall the predator was. “And Glomgold,” he said, smile as sharp as his teeth. “Do remember to pay the men.” The mallard left the room muttering darkly under his breath, and Mark was left staring after the two other men who were preparing to head after Flintheart as he wracked his brain for a way to say he still wanted in. Normally, he wouldn’t have had a problem volunteering himself for anything that was of interest to him. He’d just done it not too long ago. But he truly hated rejection, especially by people who were higher up on the corporate totem pole than himself. Nowadays that wasn’t as many people as it once was, but…Khan was among that rare clique of people he wanted to impress, and the tiger hadn’t even seemed to think his usefulness was even worth debating. That had been a royal burn to his ego, man. But the decision to say nothing wasn’t one he wanted to make either. If you wanted to be successful in life, you had to seize the opportunity wherever you might find it. Even if you failed it was better to have failed than to have done the task with anything less than a full set of tail feathers. So, when both men had gathered the papers and seemed set to leave. He stood up with them, and summoning all the confidence he could muster told them he still wanted to participate as well. Two sets of eyes locked on his as he explained what he thought he could bring to the table. He might have understated just how dangerous the B.U.D.D.Y.s could be, but otherwise he had stuck to the truth as he internally called out to a higher power than he that they realized how good he was, and how much they needed him to be on their little panel of judges.  The discussion went on longer than he’d like. It was always important to keep up a positive public image and the direction their conversation was going made it difficult for him. The fact that the robots were rather dangerous and uncontrollable when provoked did seem to be a sticking point for Shere Khan, “But,” Mark Beaks reasoned, “We can make both the parents and children themselves sign a release of liability form.” He shrugged carelessly. “It’s not like they’re going to be unaware of the danger and if they sign anyway they can’t sue.” But still Khan hesitated before he admitted for the children’s emotional well-being in addition to how it would affect the little one’s friends and family. The words themselves were practically an antithesis to everything he had thought about Khan and he might have been shocked by the admission if it hadn’t been spoken in a voice, dry as a desert, and so lacking in any sort of concern whatsoever, that he wasn’t actually concerned for the children for their own safety. No, he might as well have admitted that the only thing that mattered to him was how potential customers would feel and respond if a child was injured during a competition hosted by Khan Industries. Realizing that he was quickly losing his audience, and that he’d been correct when he’d theorized money, or at least not money alone would not be enough to get him in a seat on the panel of judges he’d gotten desperate, and kinda, maybe, sorta, well…. promised Gizmoduck would be there to halt and protect any Child from a rampaging B.U.D.D.Y. if the situation called for it. There’d been a frosty silence between the two of them after that announcement. Mark had desperately wanted to take back his words. Gizmoduck no longer obeyed and his commands so he was in no position to promise anything, and Shere Khan, well… ceiling cat alone knew what he was thinking, but Mark had heard some stories on the grapevine that Khan had an issue or two about people that had lied to and broken promises with the man in the past. The older businessman had request-no, that didn’t quite describe the way the words were said, commanded seemed a better fit, he produce said he’d need to produce said hero before they discussed the conversation any further, let alone have a contract drawn up for him to sign. He had been left spluttering after him as the Tiger and his lawyer left together, the former giving the later a respectful distance, head bowed submissively for the first time that evening, and leaving no room for doubt who called the shots in that relationship. After his business with the notary was finalized, Glomgold had returned to wait behind the door to see how the situation between Khan and Beaks resolved, and had been witness to the whole sordid affair. When Mark caught the elderly avian staring at him from behind the door, he’d tilted his head to the side, wondering why the other man was lurking in the shadows. It hadn’t been until Glomgold had pointed a figure at him and laughed like a loon that he realized the other was laughing at his miserable failure like it was a joke. Maybe it was, in a way. He’d tried to bribe someone using killer robots and had been surprised when it failed. He kept his shoulders squared and head held high, doing his best not to show anyone that Glomgold had gotten to him. The task was more difficult to do than he’d thought. The mallard had clearly returned to make fun of his misery and rub his beak in the fact that he’d gotten the contract and Beaks hadn’t. He wanted to get under Mark’s skin and he’d been more successful than he would ever realize the parrot thought took one final look at the other man mocking him, than taking out his camera and snapping a photo for his blog. It wasn’t everyday someone of their economic status willingly took time out of their schedules to check in on him, and, even if Glomgold had only been their to see him fall on his face, it was hard not to let the fact that the old man had viewed him to be worthy of so much of his time get to him. He’d felt cheerful enough that he almost forgot to be upset about Khan. If Mark had been half-hearted about the venture before, he’d definitely committed himself to the mission now. His anger wasn’t quite the result of having been rejected, although those feelings changed and stung at his pride. No, it was the way hed been rejected as if he, his resources, and his money had meant nothing to the old tiger. The man’s attitude had been what had stuck up inside his craw like nothing else. He hadn’t longed to be invited to join the Billionaire’s club only to be treated like a nobody once he’d finally been inducted. And honestly? He refused to put up with that attitude from anybody let alone some uppity feline with delusions of grandeur. He wanted to prove he could get the man on board, and this is why he’d broken the window latch on the second story of the Fenton household. He preferred to go about things legally but if the door was barred to him he had other ways of getting what he wanted. Fortunately he hadn’t needed to enter the room without permission as M'ma Cabrera was surprisingly welcoming once he expressed an interest in hiring her son to work with children in need. It hadn’t even been much of a lie. The children didn’t know it yet but they were in need of being terrorized by killer robots who would teach them proper customer relations. The self-styled ‘hero’ was currently working on something for Mr McDuck she’d said but he’d soon return home. In the meantime shed told him he was welcome to wait in the guest room which was across the hall from her sons room if he didn’t want to stay and watch soaps with her. He’d thanked her and made his way up, entering Fenton Crachshell’s bedroom to fix the lock he’d broken. He gave the place a curious once-over, finding nothing particularly out of place. Outside of a small shrine devoted to bandages and first aid supplies, it was a normal bedroom one would expect to see from a man of average financial means who still lived with his mother. Mark didn’t know if he should be disappointed or not. He shrugged and got to work, broken windows weren’t in the habit of repairing themselves. He frowned at it for moment looking at the information he had pulled up on the waddle phone and after making a quick call to his office, got to work. It wasn’t a difficult task, just not one he did often. He had just finished fixing the mechanism when he heard the front door open and a familiar male voice tiredly greet his mother. The volume on the television was lowered and the couch made a loud creaking noise as she presumably stood up to greeted her son in turn before the two began speaking in Spanish. Mark took that as a sign to beat a hasty exit and propelled himself into the guest bedroom as fast as his legs would allow. That proved to be a wise decision as he heard footsteps bounding loudly up the step and a wild-eyed Fenton appeared in the doorway looking harassed. Mark grinned and lifted his arm in a friendly wave. For his part the parrot looked as if he had been patiently waiting where Ms Cabrera had directed him, one leg folded over the other, the portrait of a relaxed guest that had every right to be where he was. Mark’s apparent ease within the environment seemed to have the opposite effect on Fenton, so he continued to smile amiably at him. It was fun when people were easy to provoke. Fenton was less than thrilled to see him. “You” the word was drawn out and filled with enough venom to kill a fully grown elephant. “Me.” he agreed pleasantly, waving off the former intern’s irritation like a tiresome fly. “Why did you come here?” Fenton growled darkly. Well somebody hatched the wrong nest of eggs this morning he thought, watching in bemusement as Fenton threw his arms up, looking for all the world like he wanted to rumble. Mark almost laughed, Perhaps when he wore the suit it looked a little more frightening, but at this moment he looked like a scrawny little nerd with fantastic cranial plumage. His face was the kind that looked friendly even when angry, he wondered if anyone had mentioned it to him but he doubted it. Otherwise, his face wouldn’t look so intent. Mark wondered if the reaction would be worth it if he was the one to break his heart by telling him. Probably not. “I don’t know what your game is but you’re not welcome in my home.” jeez the guy really was buying into his own hype. He really did sound like one of those Saturday morning cartoon heroes from the 80s. Mark was glad the duck wasn’t wearing the suit or it would have been more difficult to focus on what he actually wanted. “Game,” he repeated dropping his voice to a near purr, as he approached Fenton steadily catching his gaze. “I’m not the one who’s playing any games.” The answer was, of course true. At the moment anyway. If something like this had occurred during his childhood he’d have jumped at the opportunity with all that he was, but it hadn’t, and now he was jumping at the chance to have something lesser but still significant. His only response was a long-suffering sigh. “Hey, think all you want but out of the two of us, its Mr McDuck who comes the closest to gameplay right now, sport."Mark’s tone was light as he watched Fenton react to his words."What do you mean by that?” As if he were a small child, instinctually hesitant out of fear of adult reprimand. “Wait,"Mark said slowly , widening his eyes for dramatic effect. "Could it be that you don't know?” The last was spoken in a theatric stage whisper. Fenton looked puzzled. “M'ma said whatever this is had something to do with children?” Fenton said slowly, beginning to look frustrated. “Yes,” Mark agreed, then went for the kill. “Scrooge McDuck and Shere Khan are starting a contest and they'll be using my B.U.D.D.Y. robots to help teach them proper customer service skills.” “What!” The look of shock on his face was priceless. He had to resist the urge to take out his phone and take a selfie with him and Fenton’s face, but at the moment he was cleverly disguised as a concerned and compassionate adult. Somehow he didn’t think that would go with his act. “So you really didn’t know I–” they both startled in alarm when they heard knocking on the front door, and for one wild moment he worries that it was Scrooge, or Gyro, or even Khan on the other side of that door. Both men sat quietly as someone spoke to M'ma Cabrera and then left. The silence between them was heavy as her steps leisurely ambled up the stairs before the woman knocked on the door and her son got up to meet her in the doorway. The two had another brief conversation in Spanish, some of which Mark understood from linguistic osmosis to be thanking her for the papers she had passed to him, but the majority of what was said had been lost on him. The duck returned to his seat and passed the papers to him, which he immediately recognized as the legal documents he’d sent for prior to fixing Fenton’s window latch. “I believe this belongs to you.” Fenton’s voice was several shades colder than it had been and Mark was now holding the obvious culprit. Clearly the paperwork had reminded the duck of the train wreck that had been last time he was employed by Mark Beaks and the parrot cursed the lawyer internally for his less than optimal arrival. “It does.” He admitted slowly, as there was little else he could say. “Why, and no lies now or I’m kicking you out.” The duck said, pointing a finger threateningly in his face. “Did you really come here?” Mark thought for a moment, then changed tactics. He’d gotten this far, he was certain he could get the other bird on his side with a bit of prodding. “Lets call a truce.” He said offering his hand and rolling his eyes when the duck eyed it as if it were covered in some particularly disgusting infectious disease. “Truth is, i need your help, amigo.” The fact pained him but that wouldn’t stop it from being true, no matter what he may have thought. Fenton frowned “Why haven’t you gone to Doctor Gearloose instead?” Mark laughed. “You’ve worked for the man, I’m sure you know how well that would’ve worked out.” His voice adopted a drawl that was a very good take on Gyro’s, if he said so himself. “Oh, the disgrace to proper scientist’s everywhere needs my help.” He pretended to straighten Gearloose’s imaginary glasses. “Words fail to describe my amazement.” He settled once more on his normal voice. “And that's if he didn’t decide to have me thrown into a recycling unit and used as fertilizer for the landscapers.” Fenton laughed . “The Doctor wouldn’t do that,” he defended, but in a more teasing voice “Right now Mr Gearloose is being watched too closely by the board of directors, and I really can’t see them letting him get away with coldblooded murder.” Mark tugged absentmindedly on the nape of his neck. “You’re probably right.” He said in amusement. “Murder tends to be bad for long-term public policy.” Fenton fidgeted at that. “So you’ve never considered–” “–No.” Mark said, interrupting the sentence before it had been fully asked. He’d like their brief camaraderie before it had slipped away. He regretted its absence. “Doctor Gearloose would probably have more respect for you if you didn’t steal so many inventions from other people.” Fenton shrugged. “If you, y'know, acted like a ‘proper scientist’.” Mark was partially tempted to laugh in the other man’s face. Science as they knew it today had been built on people borrowing, stealing, and taking credit for the work of others, often doing utterly deplorable things to the original creators in the process. Mark had never done anything that would be especially awful to a rival, so as far as he was concerned he was actually one of the nicer guys out there. But he had a feeling that if he were to actually admit that he and 'the hero’ would be debating morality forever, so he chose to ignore the statement. “That's one way of looking at it.” He said instead. Fenton raised his eyebrows. 'Oh, and what do you think would get him to change his opinion on you?“ There was just a hint of challenge in his voice and Mark smiled in response. "I have money, Doctor.” He coaxed, pulling out his briefcase to reveal said currency, flaunting it before the other bird as he traced the edges in an almost seductive manner. “And I’m willing to finance a few of your pet projects if you help me settle a simple problem of my own.” He shrugged amicably, closing the briefcase. “You know the man better than me but I’m betting his view towards me would be improved, even if its only by a little.” Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera was left absolutely speechless. Mark chuckled softly at the hungry desperate look that had entered his eyes and twisted his mouth before he checked himself, and pretended that little slip hadn’t happened. But he couldn’t prevent his eyes from darting back to the briefcase like a pet denied its favorite snack. “Why did you bring that here.” Fenton frowned, clearly suspicious. “I need to borrow Gizmodu–” “–No.” Fenton didn’t even bat an eyelid before responding. “You didn’t even let me finish!” Mark protested, the former intern could not be allowed to prevent him access to his super robot self. “I am not here for you to use however you see fit!” The parrot blew air through his beak in frustration, he’d really made things needlessly complicated for himself when he tried to take on the mantle of Gizmoduck, hadn’t he? “Look, this isn't about me trying to take on your mantle again, okay?” Mark said, trying to sound reasonable and hoping like hell he was successful. “In fact, if you get a call requesting your help you can leave at any time, as long as you return when it’s over.” He sighed. “I just want to prevent a few dumb kids from breaking a few bones on live television.” Fenton paused then stared at him. “Run that by me again?” Mark hid a smile confidence returning. “Oh, just a reality show Scrooge and I are involved in.” He said before giving a brief description of what they were planning, fudging only a few specific details a centimeter or two. It was only with this duck’s help that he’d be part of the game. “And I’m going to be a judge!” He finished brightly, watching as Crackshell-Cabrera slowly absorbed the information he’d just divulged. “I… I wouldn’t have thought Mr. McDuck would be interested in starting such a thing.” Fenton admitted, looking more than a little lost. “Me neither!” Mark confessed. Neither Khan nor McDuck seemed like the type of man who would think of doing something like this, let alone act on it. But truthfully he didn’t know either of them well enough to make an accurate judgement call, and when he got down to the wire, he honestly didn't care as long as he somehow got in on it. “But getting back to the topic at hand, Scrooge might not be willing to call in the big guns for something like this, but I’m not him.” Mark grinned all relaxed smiles and casual grace. “I’m thinking of hiring you as Robot manager.” This got Fenton’s attention.“Would you need to make modifications on my armor?” Mark had to cover his mouth to prevent a string of giggles from escaping it. The memory of event, the lack of control, the pain, the humiliation, the fear…it was, well, frankly too soon to try it again. Maybe later he’d warm up to the idea again, but right now he had no desire to chance it and found it hilarious that someone would think he would. “No.” He said after finally settling down. “We both know you don’t trust me as far as you could throw me, and I"d rather avoid the looks, and well, everything else Gyro’s going to throw at me if i altered one of his precious specimens on live tv before a live audience.” Fenton snorted inelegantly and Mar smiled, each knowing the parrot would certainly need to watch his back if he ever tried it. Fenton cocked his head to the side, a small smile reaching his beak. “And i still get decently paid?” “Of course.” Mark assured him, as if even considering to do anything but that would be a crime befitting the worst of punishments.“Good.” He said and had begun reading the contract he had been given to sign. Unlike Glomgold he made no changes, edits or additions, but on some parts he would pause an ask for an explanation when he didn’t understand, listening intently while Mark patiently did his best to answer. This went on for about an hour and they were interrupted only once by M'ma when she insisted they eat something, declaring it was bad to do business on an empty stomach. Mark hadn’t complained. The food had been quite good. About thirty minutes later and Fenton, looking nervous but determined, said he could agree to the terms. Part of the arrangement included shifting Fenton into Gizmoduck and signing the contract while Mark recorded everything using his cell “Neato!” Mark exclaimed once it was all finish. “All that's left is to turn this into a lawyer and get you all nice and paid.” Fenton paused and gave the briefcase a significant stare. Reading the duck’s expression he laughed. “Nope, sorry to say it, but ” Mark said shaking his head. “That's all fake, my man.” Fenton stared at the parrot like he’d grown a second head.“Why do you have a briefcase full of fake money.” “Mugger bait.” Mark said with a shrug. “They think they’re stealing a small fortune, but I’ve got a tracker in this baby, so what they’ve really won a quick trip to the slammer.” He preened for a moment, expecting praise, but drooped slightly when none was forthcoming. “I mean, why would someone have a briefcase with actual money in it? Fenton shrugged looking terribly foolish all of a sudden. "I don’t know, i guess I’ve just seen enough movies that it didn’t seem so strange.” Mark laughed. “I’ve been there, buddy.” He gave the contract a once over, then stood up stretching for a moment before retrieving his briefcase. “If this all checks through, I’m going to be wiring the money into your account later tonight.” Fenton nodded for a moment before looking him straight in the eyes. “I like to think people are mostly good, and I want to believe the only reason you’re doing this is to help the children, so…” Fenton stopped, seemingly unable to provide the words for how he felt. “So, just don’t betray that trust, okay?” Mark smiled and gave him an easygoing salute. “You have my word.” He said, before finally taking his leave of the house. He would send a copy to Tabaqui’s office and he would finally get to arguing terms of his own contract  with Khan. If all went well he would be a judge. He could hardly wait.