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crimson-dxwn · 4 years

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Thire/OC: A Little Mischief

Once again, @detroitbydark and I were discussing the CG boys and we decided that Commander Thire needs some love. So here we are! This post is long as shit and I’m sorry but this got posted on mobile as I walked into the hospital.

Summary: Thire meets an interesting new friend who happens to share a hobby. They go on a date.

Word Count: 3000

Warnings/rating: none/T

Chapter 1

It was the third shooting this week, and they’d just lost another patient. Endless compressions later, Sofi was exhausted and frustrated. And absolutely covered in blood.

The doctor had to go declare another patient, so Sofi slipped outside for a little caf, just to clear her head for five minutes. Jorah popped out with her and they leaned against the door for a bit in silence. He was her favorite work friend because he had the same sense of humor, which was evident when a pair of red and white armored troopers walked out of the Emergency Department exit.

“I dare you to go give your comm to one of them.” He nodded towards the two men.

“Jorah, I’m at work. You’re gonna get me called in to HR.”

“Well you and I are on break and we’re technically not in the hospital so...debatable. You’re just scared.”

“Am not.”

“Are too. You’re scared to put yourself out there.”

“Am not!”

The troopers were waiting for a pickup at the end of the landing platform that stretched from the building. Giving her comm frequency to a random man in uniform was usually right up her alley, in terms of risk taking, but she tried to be professional when she was working. But they’d had a terrible day, and she wanted to start a little mischief. The worst he could do was say no. Or arrest her. Now that would be fun.

She made a rude gesture at Jorah, shook her hair out of its bun, and started towards the men, shooting a suggestive look over her shoulder on the way. Scrubs weren’t really her most flattering look, but she’d make do for now.

“Excuse me, trooper.”

They turned to look, helmets swiveling. Sofi honed in on the one nearest to her, who’d crossed his arms defensively.

“Red looks good on you, but I think it would look better on my floor.”

The nearer man remained a statue, while the other was obviously trying to stifle laughter under his helmet.

“If I gave you my comm, would you call me?”

Farther trooper elbowed his buddy.

“Come on, Thire,” he said, “the lady wants a date.”

The lady didn’t really want a date, but she wasn’t one to turn down a dare.

“Why don’t you think about it?” she persisted, “Give me your hand.”

The unnamed trooper elbowed her target again and an object fell from under one of the nearer man’s arms. A book. Not a datapad, an actual book made of flimsi sewn and glued together. She didn’t know anyone else who didn’t read on a datapad. Sofi’s grandmother had given her troves of books when she was a girl, and she’d devoured them.

Swiftly, she bent and picked it up. There was obviously more to him than met the eye. Not many men she knew read antique romance novels. Her plan changed as she handed it back to him.

“I know a place I think you’ll like. This is my comm frequency.” She tugged on his hand and he acquiesced the appendage to her grasp. Removing his glove, she uncapped her pen with her teeth and scribbled her frequency on his palm.

“I’m off in two cycles, call me when you’re not on duty and we’ll have some fun.” Sofi gave him her most winning smile, ready for a line, a laugh, a flirty comment, anything.

“I’ll think about it,” he said, softly, and turned away. Their ride was here. She strode back towards the hospital, feeling their eyes on her back, which was her plan all along. Idly, she wondered what he’d look like under that red and white helmet. Stupid, she thought. They all looked the same.

——————————————————————

Stone hadn’t stopped laughing since they left the platform.

“You really turned my day around, vod,” he wheezed, in between laughs, “I’d be jealous, but I think you need this more than me.”

“Shut up,” Thire replied, just grateful his bucket was on to hide what must be a furious blush. He could still feel where she scribbled her number on his hand. The woman hadn’t even told him her name.

They’d all breathed a sigh of relief when Mouse had discharged from the hospital. Senator Amidala had whisked her off to Naboo that morning. Stone and Thire had been the last watch before she left.

Fox was still acting strange about the whole incident, and none of them knew why. Thire hoped it wasn’t what he thought, but the longer his brother avoided her, the more evidence he had. He thought Fox was a better man than that. Her nightmares weren’t improving and she wouldn’t talk to anyone about what happened.

He and Fox had always shared the responsibility of being the ori’vod, but now Thire felt like he had to bear it all himself. So right now, a distraction was welcome, no matter now embarrassing.

He was pretty sure her proposition was a joke, but she was so pretty he didn’t even care. Not pretty, gorgeous. Even spattered in what appeared to be blood. Force knows he’d seen enough of it.

Two days later he found himself sitting on the side of his bunk in his blacks, staring down at his comm. He’d been looking at it for an hour now, debating whether to comm that nurse from the other day. One one hand, it could be fun. But he didn’t know where she wanted to take him. Or she could turn him down, laugh at him. But he didn’t have that much to lose, and it was his day off after all. Okay, here went nothing.

“This is Commander Thire. I��m supposed to comm you on your day off?”

And he waited.

And waited.

Then came a chime from his comm.

“Meet me at these coordinates at 1500. No need to wear your armor. ;)”

No need to wear armor? He didn’t have anything else to wear besides his dress uniform. Civilian clothes weren’t something they could wear out and about on Coruscant. Or afford. It was a precious day off, and he was oddly excited to spend it with someone he’d never spoken more than a sentence to. Someone who didn’t have the same face as him. Stone had finally stopped popping off about it yesterday. Thire usually wasn’t one to rise to his jabs, but it seemed that being around Fox and Mouse had rubbed off on him.

Despite her request, he wore his armor anyway, since he didn’t have anything else and he loathed his dress greys. They made his gett’se itch and pinched his neck. The red and white plastoid was practically a second skin after all these years of training in it, working in it, and occasionally even sleeping in it. It was his oldest friend aside from his batchmates.

Thire also looked up the coordinates she sent. One couldn’t be too careful these days, not knowing where civilians stood on the ‘issue’ of the clone army. To his surprise, he’d been there before. On official Guard business, no less.

A few weeks ago some punks had tried to break into an old bookstore down in the levels. They’d thrown a brick through the window and Thire helped the wizened old shop lady sweep up the broken transparisteel so she didn’t hurt herself. Not much had been taken, as the little store was stuffed with floor-to-ceiling shelves of real books and her till was almost empty. He wondered then - and still did - how she stayed in business. Giza, the old woman, had offered him any book he wanted. Having only read training manuals and required reading for flash training, he hadn’t known where to start. He’d never read for pleasure before. Giza finally took pity on him and handed him her favorite. Knights of the Old Republic. He’d devoured it.

Thire was looking forward to going back, and strangely smug at knowing the secret. But he couldn’t help but sweat nervously in his armor the whole way to the location. Again, he was intensely grateful that he hadn’t decided to wear his dress greys.

He pulled his speeder up in front of Giza’s store, early as usual. Except his date was already there. Earlier than him? That never happened. Taking a little more time than was necessary to park and dismount, he snuck a few looks at her. She certainly was not in her work uniform this time. Burgundy leggings and a matching cropped top set off her dark skin. The ensemble left little to the imagination, but he found that he didn’t much mind.

He reminded himself to keep her eyes on her face, which fortunately wasn’t hard since she was wearing that same cheeky smile as two days ago at the med center.

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

Sofi watched Thire pull up in front of the shop. She found herself excited to surprise him with her favorite bookshop, rocking back on her heels. Giza must be in the back of the building; she hadn’t come out to say hello as she usually did.

I wish I was as fat as the first time I thought I was fat, she thought, studying herself in the remaining window. At least her hair was clean today; it hung to her waist, shiny and black as deep space. And she wasn’t covered in someone else’s blood. Although Sofi was certain some man somewhere was into that. She shuddered and pulled herself out of her musings. Commander Thire was striding towards her in that blasted armor she’d told him not to wear. It seemed to her like it must be uncomfortable but boy did it do things for a man’s body.

“Hey there,” she greeted.

“Hey,” he replied, taking off his helmet.

“Sofi,” she said, and stuck out her hand awkwardly.

“Thire.” He gave her a firm handshake and looked her in the eye. The intensity she saw there made her stomach flip.

“So I don’t have to call you Commander?” she asked.

“No, ma’am,” he replied, with a touch of cheekiness himself. So he did have a sense of humor. Useful.

They were interrupted by Giza’s voice, surprisingly rich and loud for such a tiny woman. Sofi thought Giza would greet her first, but to her surprise, the wrinkled Sullustan went straight for the man to her right.

“Commander Thire,” she tutted, “Have you finished my latest recommendation yet?”

He ducked his head, embarrassed.

“Not yet, Giza.”

Reaching up, she pinched his cheek and Sofi stifled a laugh behind her hand.

“It’s alright son, I know you Guard boys have been working night and day. But you’re almost to the best part!” Huge glittering eyes looked from Thire to Sofi and back, obviously putting two and two together. She crossed her chubby arms and looked to Sofi.

“So how did you two meet?”

“Oh, I told him that his armor would look better on my floor. He took the bait,” she said, winking at Thire. He looked away.

Giza just laughed. “That’s my Sofi alright. Watch out, Commander, she’s a wild one.”

Sofi rolled her eyes.

“This place was supposed to be a surprise, but it seems that you and the Commander have already met.”

“Oh, yes,” Gizareplied, “he helped me after those boys broke my window a few weeks ago.”

It made sense. The Coruscant Guard and a few other clone battalions were helping the absolutely incompetent and corrupt Coruscant police with the uptick in crime. He could’ve just taken a report and been on his way, but by the way Giza was doting on him, he must have helped a lot more than that.

“How wholesome of him.”

“I’m right here,” he said, nudging Giza good-naturedly.

“We know, son.”

“Shall we?” Sofi began. She was eager to start browsing. He gestured for her to enter first, his soft bootfalls telling her he was close behind.

The shop was tight, packed to the brim with shelves of aged books. Thire seemed nervous, embarrassed even, and all it did was endear him to her. Or maybe it was the fact that Giza seemed to love him. She wasn’t this warm with everyone.

They started to browse, close together in the tight shelving. Pulling one off the shelf, she opened it reverently, put her face close to the pages and inhaled. He was watching her, she could feel it. Sofi didn’t mind.

“What?” she asked, eyeing him over the top of the pages.

“What are you doing?” His eyes narrowed.

“You’ve never smelled an old flimsi book before?”

“Uh...no.”

“Try it.” She smiled softly at him, trying to get him to trust her, nodding a little.

A skeptical look passed over his handsome face, but he lowered his head to the book he was holding and took a long sniff. Warm, wide brown eyes closed for a moment and then met hers again.

“Smells like...dust.” He shut the book with a laugh.

“Rude,” she retorted and made a face at him, “It’s a thing!”

That earned her a wide smile before he continued browsing, edging toward the Romance section. It was kind of adorable, even if it wasn’t her genre of choice.

Tinkling noises came from the back of the shop, followed by a kettle whistling. She could kill for some tea right now, just a little hit of energy and warmth to go with her book. Somehow she’d restrained herself to just one. The Testaments. Feminist lit. Sofi tended not to branch out in her choices. Just as she was about to peek over at Thire’s pick, Giza emerged from the back with a tray of cups and a large onyx teapot. The woman set it on a small table tucked into the back corner of the room and beckoned them over. Sofi and Thire exchanged a look before making their way to the small table. Sofi chuckled internally, she wasn’t sure how the Commander was going to fit at the tiny table, which was made for someone approximately a quarter of his size.

“Sit!” she motioned for them to be seated at the petite table and chairs.

With as much grace as the tall man could muster, he sank down the the floor and rested, cross-legged by the table. Sofi folded her long limbs as best she could into the small chair next to Giza’s. She leaned over to see the book he’d picked in his lap.

“Talk!” she exclaimed, and waddled into the back of the shop.

Neither of them could contain their laughter at this point, and it sputtered out of both of them for a few moments before it got quiet again.

“So what do you like to do besides reading and propositioning strangers in uniform?” Sofi felt her eyes widen a bit. Bold, but she could give as good as she got.

“Drink!” they heard, muffled, from wherever Giza was buried in the back rooms.

“I’m not a big tea person,” he said, eyeing the pot and cups warily. She reached for the pot and poured three cups, assuming Giza would be back to meddle some more in a few minutes, and took a sip from hers.

“Well Giza isn’t going to let you out of here without trying it.” He made a little hmmph-ing noise but reached for his cup anyway.

“Better than stims, I guess.”

It….wasn’t good. Thire met her eyes over their cups, a concerned look in his eye. It was obvious he agreed with her assessment. She’d never tasted tea that tasted like straight smoke before. Sofi wondered if Giza had accidentally burned it. Giza breezed by with a stack of books in her arms.

“You like the tea? Traditional Sullustan.”

Sofi and Thire nodded and made affirmative noises in unison. It seemed like they were both polite to a fault. Walking back, she smiled a conspiratorial smile at Sofi. Oh no.

“On Sullust we have matchmakers. They always serve albenda. Good for … how do you say? Stamina.” And walked away, as if discussing performance in the sack was normal first date conversation.

Thire immediately started loudly coughing, gently setting his cup back on the table with a clink. At that moment, his comm beeped, as if on cue. He looked incredibly relieved.

“I’m sorry, miss. I have to go.”

“I understand,” she said, “But don’t call me miss. I’m not twelve.”

“Sorry,” he paused, “Sofi.”

They walked out of the shop after their hasty goodbye to the meddling Sullustan. Sofi paid for the books before Thire could even try.

“Do you need a ride home?” he asked.

“I’m just down the street, but thanks anyway.” He looked around, as if trying to spot her place, soaking in the neighborhood. “Before you leave, I have an idea.”

He raised his eyebrows.

“I’ll take your book and you take mine. Branch out a little bit?”

“Hmm. Okay.” They switched books and he held his under his plastoid arm.

“Can I comm you again?” she asked.

“Sure,” he replied, “but no tea next time.”

“Agreed,” she said, with a small laugh.

They were close and he was looking down at her. Not expectantly, as she would have thought. His face was just open, relaxed, almost happy looking. She leaned up to kiss him on the cheek and he stiffened minutely, mouth a tiny bit open as she pulled away, the tiniest bit of stubble scratching against her skin.

“See you soon,” she shot over her shoulder, and walked back towards her apartment. Their date had been cut short, but she’d learned plenty about Commander Thire.

#Commander Thire #CC 4477 #OC: Sofi #star wars fic #my writing

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lynneshobbydomain · 4 years

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Dungeon Chaos (KomaHinaNamami Week Day 4)

Prompt: Dungeons and Dragons

Rating: T

Summary: Chiaki’s never played a tabletop roleplaying game before, so being invited to one is both exciting and nerve wracking. At least she knows most of the people there.

“Hey, Onee-chan!” Kokichi landed hard against her desk, and Chiaki barely moved out of the way, her finger dancing across the console. “You play a lot of video games, right?”

“Yes,” Chiaki answered without bothering to look up. She was trying to defeat this boss, and she had it up to the hardest mode that she could play. She also decided to challenge herself and kept her character under level just for the extra amount of satisfaction. She knew that she was reckless, she usually didn’t try to play like that. She liked completing games, a hundred and ten percent of the way, but today was frustrating, and she wanted to have a struggle. It was better than starting a fight with Nagito or Hajime over something stupid.

“Would you say you’re good at roleplaying games?”

Chiaki paused the game after hearing that. “Is it the same as dating sims? I’m not very good with personal connections. I never know how to respond to people or how to react to them. The situation always calls for something, and if the wrong choice is made, it lowers the friendship and romance meter. I usually end up getting the no “choice” path because of it. Or the normal route, I suppose.” She looked up at Kokichi, who was comfortably swinging his legs back and forth, leaning into her personal bubble. “Why do you ask?”

“Well, what if I told you you could do all of that in real life, and you’ll know instantly what the wrong choice is?” Kokichi grinned. “Shirogane-chan from my class is hosting a DnD group. Saihara-chan and I joined, and I already asked Fujisaki-chan and Naegi-chan. Shirogane-chan told me that she was looking for more members, and our class isn’t playing.”

“Hmm.” Chiaki pressed a finger to her chin in thought. Nagito and Hajime were out getting food for her since she had been so caught up with her game. It wouldn’t surprise her if they went on a mini-date to eat a bit of lunch before bringing her back something to eat. Either that or Nagito’s luck struck, and they were trying to get out of whatever situation that wound up being. She hoped it was just a stuck vending machine. She didn’t want to go maxim capacity and have it be that a school building fell on top of them.

Chiaki was hanging out with Nagito too much if that was the first conclusion she came to. “I’ll have to ask and see if they’d want to. Hajime might since he likes playing video games with me. Nagito...he might feel like he’d just bring bad luck and disaster onto the game if he played.”

“Wouldn’t that make it more fascinating, though?!” Kokichi asked, leaning in with sparkling eyes. Chiaki was amused that he acted like her on occasion when she got excited. The common joke around the class was that Chiaki was somehow related to Kokichi, even though they could prove they weren’t. “I want to see Komaeda-chan’s luck in action! I’m always not around when something big happens.” He pouted slightly. “Maybe that’s his luck affecting me too?”

If so, it was strangely good luck. Chiaki shrugged, “When is the game supposed to start?”

“Hm? I was just supposed to get yes or no answers. I have your cell number, so I’ll tell you the deets when I get them from Shirogane-chan.” Kokichi grinned. “Oh, that reminds me. Any preference for a story?”

“You can choose your story?” Chiaki blinked. “Like backstory or…”

“Campaign story. Setting. You know. The background that we’re going to be tossing our characters in. I told her that I wanted to do Dragon Heist because you know. I’m a thief by trade.”

“You’re playing the rouge character than when a background of being a criminal.” Chiaki mused thoughtfully. “I don’t know. I’m not necessarily picky. So long as everyone has fun, I think that’s all that matters.”

“Ugh, well better than Yamada-chan. He told us that he wanted to do The Tomb of Annihilation. Since we have so many beginner players, Shirogane-chan’s not sure if that’s a good way to start.” Kokichi said as he glanced at his nails. “Well, whatever. If you run into your dream team, ask them for their opinion, too, okay? Better not forget Onee-chan. I’ll cry!”

“I understand.” Chiaki watched Kokichi leave. She hummed thoughtfully before going back to her game, losing herself until Nagito and Hajime came back with food.

Vending machine once more decided to get stuck again.

Better than a whole roof falling down, that’s for sure.

The conversation about the DnD disappeared from Chiaki’s mind. She was setting up for her weekend stream event when she heard her phone ding from across the room. Ignoring it, she went about getting her console hooked up to the right appliances when she heard a soft knock on the door. “Kokichi said something about a DnD group that’s happening tonight. He’s asking if you forgot to tell us?”

“A what now?” Nagito spoke up, and now Chiaki had to look. Hajime was standing at the door of her office, holding her phone casually in his hand. Nagito was peering over Hajime’s shoulder, clearly reading the text. “Huh. Ouma-kun has a strange way of wording things.”

“Like you don’t use emojis when you talk.”

“Not to that degree. I like to use numbers more.”

“DnD…” Chiaki trailed off before the lightbulb hit. Guilt flooded, and she looked at her game dejectedly. She was so eager to play the new game that came out too, but..she was curious about the roleplaying setup. She also never played a game with different people in a setting before. “Kokichi asked me if I wanted to come and play it, and I promised him I’d tell you guys. I’m sorry. It slipped my mind.”

“Do you still want to do it?” Hajime asked, his thumb hovering over the phone screen. “I can tell him we’re on our way, we just need the address.”

“This could be so exciting! What kind of hope do you guys think will spring from playing a roleplaying game? I wonder if all our talents are going to shine through. Oh, but that might mean my bad luck may hit unexpectedly. Maybe I should sit this one out.”

“No!” Chiaki and Hajime said together at the same time, startling Nagito into silence. “You’re coming too,” Chiaki replied firmly. “I want to see you play a game with us. You’re always on the sidelines. That can’t be fun.”

“I don’t mind watching, it’s exciting to see you two go at it.” Nagito grinned.

“Phrasing,” Hajime grumbled as he decided for them and typed out a response. “We should get going now if we want to make the next train and get to where they’re at.”

“They’re not playing at the dorms?” Chiaki questioned.

“Yamada-kun hangs out a comic book store not too far from here. They host the games, so we get the tablespace, and we can be as loud as we need to be within reason,” Hajime explained as he tossed Chiaki’s phone back. Kokichi had typed up the address, and it was clear to see that it was indeed a comic book store. “Let’s go.”

Chiaki didn’t typically go into comic bookstores. Still, she had to admit that the atmosphere reminded her of a lot of video game stores. The store was small and cozy with blue and red walls. Their shelves dedicated to different publishers that were all categorized by the title name. There were single-issue comic books as well as graphic mangas that were proudly displayed. The novelty statues that were in some of the display cases showed off some of the more famous superheroes and supervillains. Chiaki could see that there were some video game statues in there as well. They continued to walk until they reached the back of the store where a table was set up, and she saw that everyone was already there and waiting for them. On the table next to them was a tray full of snacks, pizzas, as well as sodas and cups.

“Onee-chan!” Kokichi didn’t waste time running over to her and body-slamming her into a hug. “I thought you ditched me! You promised that you’d talk to your boytoys about whether or not you’d be coming! I didn’t think I was so easily forgettable!” Tears slipped down his cheek.

“Ah, uh...Ouma-kun I don’t think Nanami-san would forget about you that easily. Hinata-kun just said that she forgot.” Saihara tried to dissuade Kokichi from any more tears. Chiaki was impressed by how fast Kokichi could wipe away the evidence that he had been crying so quickly.

“Nishishi! Don’t worry, beloved! I was just playing. Come on, sit, sit.”

Everyone was already there too. Chiaki didn’t recognize most of them. Makoto, she knew mostly from running into the halls. The girl that sat at the end of the table was wearing a dramatic looking dress with long silver hair that was braided and had a flower crown. Pointed ears were poking from the strands, and decorated with an ornate silver covering. “So before we begin playing, how many of us already have character sheets made?”

“Me!” Kokichi quickly pulled his out of a thick book and slammed it down on the table, shaking it dramatically. “Behold! Your Phantom Thief as arrived along with-” he grabbed Shuichi’s hand and held it up high “-your beloved Paladin!”

“Oh, awesome! What species are you two doing?” The girl asked, clasping her hands together.

“Halfling and human.”

“Oh. I see. How plain.” The girl ignored Kokichi’s indigent screech. “I’m going to assume you got yours done too, Yamada-kun?”

“Of course, I did. I sat down for hours trying to come up with a backstory that will mesh well with any campaign we all agree on. I have decided upon the paladin as well! My chosen warrior will be fighting alongside the Goddess of Sune as well. I may be adding in a bit of bard into the mix later down the road. Do you need my copy of my backstory, Shirogane-san?”

“If you have it,” Tsumugi said. Chiaki watched as they exchanged it across the table. It was starting to feel overwhelming. How was she supposed to keep track of what’s what?

“Psst, Onee-chan.” Kokichi caught her attention and gave her a grin. “Don’t worry about it. Yamada-chan likes to show off that he’s a veteran to this. You and the dream team aren’t the only ones that are new or don’t have a character sheet.”

Chiaki felt a little calmer with the assurance. Makoto spoke up, looking confused. “So how are we even supposed to do this? I tried to do it myself, but my sister laughed at me over the phone and hung up.”

“It’s okay Naegi-kun, I was lost too,” Chihiro replied quietly as they carefully smoothed down their skirt.

“How about all of us pair up with the newbies and help them design their characters and then we can talk about the campaign? Session zero is usually nothing but set up anyway and making sure the rules are understood. If we get a bit of gameplay going, all the better.” Tsumugi said, just as Kokichi immediately bounded over and sat down in between Chiaki and Hajime.

“Okay! I’ll take the dream-team and Onee-chan! Someone else can help the two helpless nerds over there.” Kokichi said as Shuichi reached over and handed Kokichi his handbook. He dragged the three over to a separate table.

“Do you guys have a dice set?” At the shake of their head, Kokcihi turned his head over his shoulder. “Oi! Beloved! Toss me the catapult!”

“The what?”

Shuichi ignored Tsumugi’s surprise as he picked up a dice bag that looked like it was made of leather and rounded into a ball. He tossed it over the table, making Kokichi catch it with both hands. Without another word, he dramatically overturned his bag. The dice spilled out, hitting the table and rolling everywhere on the floor’s surface.

It took a little bit to help clean it up, but the minute they were able to do that, Kokichi finally sat them down and spoke. “So. What do you guys think you represent?”

Represent? Chiaki frowned deeply as she looked over to see that both Hajime and Nagito were thinking about it as well, taking Kokichi’s words into consideration. “Hope,” Nagito spoke up, and Chiaki sighed. “Luck and hope.”

“Uh...hard work, I suppose? Talent?” Hajime tried.

“Hm...something that has to do with fun, I think,” Chiaki said quietly, pulling her hoodie over her head as she tried to block out some of the noise and light. She hadn’t realized that the group behind her was going to get so loud.

Hajime subtly made her move so that she was sitting in between him and Nagito. Kokichi didn’t bat an eye or ask questions. “Okay, so halfling for Komaeda-chan, a fighter for Hinata-kun, and…” he paused humming to himself before nodding. “I think Onee-chan will make for a good bard.”

“Should I go for a healing class?” Nagito questioned. “Considering that everyone else is fighter types. I recall that Chiaki would have to take the role less played with during her MMORPGs, and Clerics are usually the ones used for that, aren’t they?”

“You sure that you want to stay behind and just cast healing spells?” Kokichi questioned, “It’s fun if you’re up ahead in the battle.”

Chiaki was about to open her mouth to offer, but Nagito was faster than she was. “I don’t want my luck to ruin your guys game. It’s better if my character is a bystander to let all of you shine. I don’t mind.”

“So a halfling cleric. I’ll make this easy for you and say that you should go with Life Domain. Mostly because of your luck, hope, and morales.” Kokichi said. “We’ll roll dice for stats and everything in a bit. How about you Hinata-chan? I said the fighter, but...you want someone to be hardworking, right? Human’s pretty typical, but...I mean, we already have a human paladin. It wouldn’t take us long to weave your backstory with Saihara-chan’s. You two could know each other in-game. It’ll make for roleplaying easier. Because in addition to knowing him, you’ll know me because I cause a lot of trouble around the town.”

“Probably enough that a cleric would also know you?”

“Heard of me sure, unless you’re gonna be friends with the paladin. Oh, if you two follow the same God, that’ll give you something to talk about too.” Kokichi snapped his fingers.

Chiaki hummed thoughtfully as she listened to the conversation, her mind whirling as she thought about what she wanted to be. She peered over Hajime’s shoulder as he flipped through the book, angling it so that she could see. “Are there any uncommon monsters?” Chiaki questioned.

“What do you mean?” Kokichi asked.

“I mean,” Chiaki pulled on her hoodie. “Someone that’ll take a look and think that he’s dangerous, but in the end, he’s actually a good person?”

Neither Hajime nor Nagito could miss what reference she was making out of that.

“...Tiefling or Dragonborn usually,” Kokichi said slowly, picking his words carefully. “Teiflings are what you want to go with if you’re trying to scare people. Half-orcs or orcs are common ones too, but Teiflings are considered to be people from hell. They’re not exactly looked at well I think it’s a flip of a coin what town would prefer what monster though over the others. Dragons are terrifying in their own right.”

“Why not go with Tiefling?” Chiaki offered, looking up at Hajime. “You’ll get the hardship of trying to win everyone’s favor, and you can work hard at show-casing that appearances shouldn’t be judged on.”

“...Alright.”

“What about you, Chiaki? You agreed to be a bard, but...are you sure that’s an idea?” Nagito questioned.

“Bards usually are the ones that have the most, though they’re usually played more sexually,” Kokichi said bluntly. “Since Onee-chan likes to have fun, it’ll be interesting for like...a bard to actually be just that. A playful character that doesn’t take anything seriously.”

“Hmmm...I’m a pretty serious person by nature…” Chiaki said slowly, “so playing something that’s a little bit out of my comfort zone will be hard. It should be fun. But what species would be best for me to go with if I’m only trying to do that?”

“Why not a gnome? A gnome bard.” Kokichi offered.

Nagito suddenly burst into laughter, causing all three of them to look at him. He held his hands up, giggling and trying to control himself. “Sorry, sorry. I just had this thought that...Hajime’s Tiefling will be with the two shortest people in the game.”

“Oh yeah, you’re right! Nishishi! That’ll be hysterical if you three decide to get together in the game!” Kokichi laughed. “Okay, okay. Let’s roll the dice and see what you guys get for stats and equipment.”

“I still can’t believe that your luck can affect a fucking roleplaying game,” Hajime stated as they left the store in good nature. They managed to get their characters set up, with Nagito being stupidly powerful for being the first level due to his high rolls and his luck. The campaign they decided to choose was the Tyranny of Dragons. Since no one was a Dragonborn or could speak in dragons, it nearly caused a Total Party Kill within the first mission. It was only thanks to Kokichi’s quick thinking and Hifumi’s foresight for things that could go bad and turned the tide.

“It wasn’t just Nagito’s luck, though,” Chiaki helpfully pointed out as Nagito laughed easily at the accusation. “Did you see how bad Naegi-kun was rolling?”

Nagito was rolling pitiful numbers. It got to the point that most of the table thought Tsumugi was trying to prolong his suffering by fudging her rolls from behind the screen to help them out a bit. Makoto’s dexterity was decent, but the number of times he tripped and caused a problem was...alarming. It didn’t help either that Kokichi thought Chihiro and Makoto were the best people to mess with. He slipped a few things into Makoto’s equipment bag that raised eyebrows and questions when targetted.

“I have to admit it was riveting that we were facing the Champion head-on!” Nagito held his hands up excitedly. “Did you see how Hajime rolled so high to get so many critical hits? We thought he accidentally picked out Ouma-kun’s trick dice!”

“God, that was embarrassing.” Hajime groaned. “But the champion was annoying. I’m glad I fucked him up when I had a chance. Tsumugi plays a decent villain character. I don’t think I’ve wanted to strangle anyone as much as I do those cultists.”

“It’s terrible that they’re controlling the dragons somehow with the mask, but I’m eager to see what else happens.” Chiaki agreed, “I didn’t fall asleep once, and it was hard!”

Hajime and Nagito both wrapped their arms around her, Hajime going for the waist while Nagito settled for the shoulders. “I’m glad you had fun, Chiaki,” Hajime said softly. “I was worried that it might’ve been overwhelming.”

“At first it was, there were a lot of things to take in, and I wasn’t used to the area. However, as I got used to it, my stats increased, and I was better able to focus. It helped that both of you were on either side of me the entire time and that Ouma-kun was distracting. Poor Saihara-kun, though...he had to bail Ouma-kun out of doing some peculiar things.”

“Yeah...pickpocketing the mayor might’ve not been the best idea in the world.” Hajime agreed.

“I’m not so certain.” Nagito injected. “I still think that Ouma-kun and myself have a good hunch that the mayor isn’t who he says he is. I think that our group is still being used, but I’m not sure how.”

“We’ll just have to rely on our gut instinct for now,” Chiaki leaned into their hold. “My mind is going a thousand miles an hour. I’m starting to get sleepy trying to keep up.”

“Do you want me to give you a piggyback ride, Chiaki? At least to the station?” Hajime asked, already getting ready to get on his knees.

“Yea...I think that might be best.” Chiaki was getting tired, and it was hard to stand. Hajime bent down, and Chiaki allowed herself to fold forward around him. He hooked his arms under her legs as she tiredly clung to his shoulders.

“Hahaha, I’m a little worn out myself; that was a lot of information to be given all at once.” Nagito rubbed the back of his neck. “So should we plan to tell Ouma-kun that we’ll come next week?”

“Hmm...go for it.” Hajime nodded. “I’ll remind Chiaki when she wakes up.”

“Not...sleep….” Chiaki closed her eyes before she could complete the sentence. She was looking forward to next week too.

#komahinanami week #komahinanami #hopetohopetogame #dungeons and dragons #hpa-au #chiaki nanami #nagito komaeda #Hajime Hinata #shuichi saihara #kokichi ouma #saiouma #makoto naegi #chihiro fujisaki #hifumi yamada #tsumugi shirogane #trickyfindings

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sanderssidesfanfiction · 5 years

Text

Not Deserving

A/N: Hey, all! I can’t seem to stop getting ideas for fics recently, so have another idea that took me, like, three hours to hammer together. Warning, this fic will cover very dark topics, and I don’t blame you if you don’t want to read.

Warnings: Cursing, abusive relationships, alcohol, transphobia & deadnaming, sympathetic Deceit

Ethan flinched as the cheap vase shattered against the wall inches from his head. He knew it was against the rules to flinch, but he couldn't help it. Even if the vase was cheap glass, it was loud when it shattered. Justin stalked over to Ethan and Ethan backed up against the wall as Justin leaned one hand against the wall where the vase had shattered. "Now look what you've done, Ethan. Gone and caused such a mess. Again. I'm going out, and when I'm back I want to see this place spotless, clear?"

Silently, Ethan nodded, and Justin shoved him in the chest, causing Ethan to jump. Justin laughed and muttered, "Useless bitch," as he stumbled into the bedroom.

Ethan didn't dare move until Justin left the house, and even then he only sank to the floor as waves of dysphoria knocked him off his feet. He knew Justin didn't mean what he said, he was just a little drunk, and Ethan wasn't able to wear his chest binder today, so it was hard for him to remember that Ethan was transgender. He also knew that Justin would be going to the club, most likely to find some girl or another to sleep with. And that was okay, Ethan was polyamorous, he didn't mind. He did sometimes wish that Justin would still love him all over like he used to, though.

Still, he had a job to do. He went to the closet and pulled out the dustpan, sweeping up the glass and throwing it away, before picking up the flowers that had been in the vase and feeling a pang of regret. He had loved these flowers, he had bought them with Justin in mind. They wouldn't survive long without the vase, so he resolved to dry them or press the petals, so he could still get a use out of them a while longer. He hummed under his breath. He missed Justin, but he was also relieved that Justin was out for the night. He hated when Justin would start yelling over something Ethan had screwed up.

When he deemed the apartment as clean as it could ever be, he stumbled to bed and checked the time, finding it just before one in the morning. He flopped onto bed and cuddled his pillow. If Justin wasn't back within the hour, he had probably gotten lucky and wouldn't show up until tomorrow afternoon. Which was whatever, Ethan had a shift in the local bookstore that morning anyway. Hopefully, Justin wouldn't trash the place before Ethan was back.

Blinking blearily in the morning as his phone's alarm rang, Ethan groaned and turned off the sound, before getting up and getting dressed. After he had packed and started binding, he felt a little better. He was supposed to only work the check-out today, so he wouldn't have to lug boxes of books around and risk strenuous exercise. He made himself breakfast and ate on the walk to the bus stop, and by the time he had made it to the bookstore he was as awake as he could ever be after a stressful night and he was ready to take on the day. He clocked in on time, nodded to Virgil, the bookstore owner, and got to the cashier's spot just in time for the doors to open.

Most of the morning was monotonous--checking out similar books, none of them ones that he felt inclined to read. Then, just before noon, Remus scurried to the front of the shop and asked, "Ethan, can I pretty pretty please swap places with you? My ankle has been killing me all morning, and I can barely restock the shelves anymore."

Ethan felt his stomach sink at the thought of having to lug around that many books in a chest binder, but he remembered Justin's words in his ear. Useless bitch. He knew he had to accept. "Sure, Remus. Just know that my shift ends in an hour, okay? Then it's back to shelving for you."

Remus hugged Ethan almost too tightly and ushered Ethan away with a, "I had to stop in the romance section."

Ethan felt even worse than before, but nodded. He hated the romance section, had hated it ever since he had gotten together with Justin. He headed to the romance section, though, because he had to, he had told Remus he would, and finished shelving all the books on that particular stand, but there were easily three dozen more books to sort through. Ethan didn't mind sorting through the books, but he had a problem bending and reaching and bending and moving down and lugging around a crate full of books. In no time, he was feeling shortness of breath. But he was also out of books, so he returned the crate to the back and decided to work on the mystery section next. He grabbed the crate and started to make his way over to the mystery books, before a voice yelled behind him, "Ethan! Uh, no! Stop that right now!"

It took every ounce of self-control Ethan had to not jump as Virgil jogged over to him. "No shelving when you're binding, we've been over this!" Virgil said sternly, taking the crate out of his hands. "Why are you shelving, anyway? I had you slotted for the check-out today."

"Remus said he hurt his ankle," Ethan said, voice small.

"Again?!" Virgil asked exasperatedly. "That's the third time this month he's tried to get out of shelving! Ethan, go back to the front. Remus will be doing his job. He didn't hurt his ankle, he's just trying to get out of his least favorite job."

"Oh..." Ethan said. Stupid, you should have realized that!

"Hey, Ethan?" Virgil asked, voice soft. "Don't beat yourself up over this, all right? Remus will do just about anything to get out of shelving. It's not your fault that you were trying to help."

Ethan's smile was strained and didn't quite reach his eyes as he nodded. "Yeah. Thanks, Virgil."

Virgil grinned. "Hey, you've finally stopped calling me 'Boss,' that's progress!" he complimented. "To the front with you, I'll have a word with Remus."

Ethan nodded and went up front, working the cash register until it was time for him to clock out. When he went into the back, Virgil was waiting for him, like usual. "How's Justin?" Virgil asked, voice suspiciously neutral. "You seemed tired this morning. He keep you up last night?"

"You know how it is," Ethan said with a strained laugh. "When he wants something he doesn't stop until he gets it. Sometimes, he wants a little excitement in the bedroom, if you catch my drift." Just not with me, not anymore.

Virgil gave Ethan a thin smile as he clocked out. "He's treating you right, though? Aftercare, and all that?"

"Yeah, of course," Ethan lied, giving Virgil a small smile. "I should get out of here, I need some lunch and I might swing by the florist's before they close."

Virgil waved him off. "Yeah, see you later, Ethan. Have a good rest of the day."

If only. "I'll try," Ethan laughed.

He left the store, wilting a little at the stink-eye Remus was giving him on the way out. But once he was outside, in the relative fresh air, he took a semi-deep breath and let it out slowly with a smile. He made his way to his favorite cafe, which was just down the street from the bookstore. As soon as he walked in, the barista, Patton, waved at him and called, "Hi, Ethan! The usual?"

Ethan silently nodded and Patton turned to get started on his order. When it was done Ethan had the money out ready to pay and Patton cheerily gave him his change. "You got a little cut on your cheek there, Ethan, you okay?"

When Ethan pulled out his phone, he could see a cut right below his eye in his reflection. Huh. He hadn't even noticed the glass cutting him yesterday as the shards flew by. "Yeah, I just accidentally got cut by some glass," Ethan said. "Tripped, vase broke, hands narrowly missed getting cut, but my face wasn't so lucky."

"Ouch, be careful, Ethan. This is what, your sixth cut this month?"

"Seventh, I think," Ethan said with a sheepish grin.

Patton's gaze showed concern, and Ethan wanted to spill his guts then and there, to admit everything that Justin had done over the past few months, but he couldn't. At the end of the day, Justin loved him. He just had a hard time showing it. And Ethan didn't want to get Justin in trouble. So he took his food with a quiet "Thank you," sat in his usual spot for lunch, and then left, heading to the florist's. Maybe he could get a new vase, and some fresh flowers. Justin seemed to love it when Ethan brought him flowers.

When he walked into the florist's, Logan turned from tending to the flowers, smiling when he saw Ethan. "Ethan, hey," Logan said softly. "How you doing?"

Ethan smiled and said, "I'm okay." Logan was the person who knew the most about what Justin did behind closed doors, because he knew how many vases had been broken over the months Ethan had come in to buy new ones.

"What are you looking for today?" Logan asked.

"I'm not sure. Maybe some marigolds?" Dee asked. "Or a couple roses."

"His favorite flower, and something romantic," Logan said knowingly. "He broke another vase, didn't he?"

"I...yeah," Ethan mumbled, grabbing one of his arms with the other.

"Is that where you got your cut?" Logan asked, walking over.

Ethan shied away from Logan's hand and muttered, "I don't want to talk about it."

Logan looked genuinely distressed at that, but nodded and said, "As you wish."

Ethan gave Logan a thankful smile as he went to grab a few white roses. "Three good?" he asked as he brought them over to Ethan.

"Yeah," Ethan agreed.

Logan rang the flowers up and said, "You know, Ethan, you're too good for him. You could leave any time you wanted, and you'd be better off for it. He clearly doesn't appreciate you."

Ethan blushed and mumbled, "No...I don't deserve him. He's the one who's kind enough to love me."

Logan looked like he wanted to argue, but Ethan took the flowers and left the store with them and the new vase they were in.

When he got home, Justin was back, and he was drinking on the couch. "Good job cleaning," Justin grunted when Ethan walked back in. "This place doesn't look like a total pig sty."

Ethan squirmed a little under the olive branch he saw those words as. "Thanks," he said softly. "I got some new flowers...should I put them in the kitchen?"

"Whatever," Justin grunted.

Ethan took them to the kitchen and started preparing dinner early, so that Justin might eat before he went out for the night again. Ethan was filling a pot with water to put on the stove, but his grip slipped on the handle as he turned. What happened next felt like the world was in slow-motion. Ethan grabbed wildly for the pot but couldn't grasp it, and it clattered to the floor, water spilling all across the kitchen.

The silence that followed in the apartment was deafening. Ethan stood stock still, scared out of his wits, as Justin's steady footsteps approached. Justin stood at the edge of the kitchen, looking at the mess on the floor, before looking at Ethan. "Stupid," he growled. "Can't you do anything right, you stupid bitch?!"

"It was an accident! I'm sorry!" Ethan exclaimed. "Here, I'll clean it up right now!"

He went to move past Ethan but Justin grabbed him roughly by the wrist, before slapping Ethan across the face. "You won't do anything! You can't do anything right! All you do is screw up, time after time! It's a small wonder I've put up with you all this time!" Justin roared. He manhandled Ethan to the door. "Get out!"

"What?!" Ethan asked, feeling his breathing pick up.

"Get out!" Justin exclaimed. "We're through! You're not welcome in my apartment anymore! Good luck finding a new boyfriend, you bitch! You're just a weak, pathetic little girl! Why don't you run home to your mommy, maybe she can make it all better, Samantha."

Ethan felt tears come to his eyes. He absolutely hated it when he got deadnamed, but it hurt one thousand times more to hear it from the man he loved. "Justin..."

Justin slammed the door in Ethan's face. Ethan backed up, before running down the stairs of the apartment complex and running down through the street, tears blinding his vision. When he stopped, no longer able to breathe, he checked his pockets. He had his wallet, still, and his cell, but nothing else on him. Not even a spare set of clothes. He looked around. There was a bar across the street, and he decided that the first thing he would do as a newly single homeless person would be to get absolutely plastered.

He stumbled into the bar, which seemed to have just opened for the night. He sat down heavily on one of the stools, and told the bartender, "Gimme the strongest stuff you've got."

"Sure," the bartender said, giving him a wary look. "Bad day?"

"Boyfriend broke up with me," Ethan said with a hollow laugh. "I don't have any of my clothes, my shoes, my personal affects, or even my testosterone. And I won't be welcomed back."

The bartender paused as he passed Ethan the drink. "It that what that red mark across your face is for? Did the prick hit you?"

"He's not a prick," Ethan said with a sigh. "He was the love of my life, or so I thought."

The bartender shook his head. "No boyfriend worth his salt would hit his partner."

Ethan laughed and took a sip of his drink, which he thought was vodka. "Y'know what the worst part is?" Ethan asked. "I brought it on myself. I screwed up, and he finally had enough of me."

The bartender looked concerned. "My name's Roman King," he said. "What's yours?"

Ethan took a long sip of his drink. "Ethan. Ethan Price."

Roman looked confused for a brief second, before he laughed. "Small world. My boyfriend, Virgil, owns a bookstore in town square. You wouldn't happen to work there?"

"Yup," Ethan said, taking another long sip of his drink, only to find it empty after two swallows. "Might have to crash there tonight. Not like I have anywhere else to go."

Roman sobered. "You really have nowhere to go?"

Ethan shrugged. "Not like I got the chance to make many friends when Justin and I moved," he said. "Too busy making sure that the apartment was clean and that Justin was fed. He does a terrible job of taking care of himself."

Roman looked even more concerned, if that was possible. "Hey, Ethan. You mind sticking around for a little while? Just until I can call some friends of mine and see if we can get you a place to crash?"

Ethan shrugged. "I don't plan on going anywhere."

Roman nodded.

Ethan sat in silence, drinking another glass of vodka as other customers started to shuffle into the bar. After a time, Roman was arguing with Ethan about giving him another drink, which, considering Ethan had just polished off his third glass, probably was wise. But Ethan didn't care. "My boyfriend broke up with me, hit me, called me a stupid bitch, and deadnamed me, all in the span of ten minutes!" he yelled at Roman. "I deserve another drink!"

Roman looked past Ethan and called, "Virgil, Pat, Lo! Over here!"

Ethan turned to find his boss, the barista from the cafe he went to every day after work, and the florist all walking over to him. He groaned, hiccuping once and resting his head on the bar. "I don' wanna deal with this," he muttered darkly.

Virgil approached first, saying, "Hey, Ethan, you good? Roman called me and said you were having issues with your boyfriend?"

"When isn't he?" Logan scoffed. "That man breaks four vases a month, easily. And every time, Ethan comes to me asking for a new one, usually sporting a bruise or a cut or two."

Patton gasped and Ethan flinched. "What?!" Patton exclaimed. "Your boyfriend is the guy who made you unable to walk without severe pain for two weeks?! And gave you that gash on your left cheek?!"

"That was him?! That was, like, four months ago!" Virgil yelped. "Ethan, how long have you been with this guy?!"

Ethan flinched and the four murmured apologies to him. "Ethan," Roman said, not unkindly. "How long has this been going on?"

"Hmm." Ethan held his head in his hands. "At least a year. He goes out to clubs to sleep with girls and comes home and treats me like I'm one of them, but I'm not! I'm a man! I'm a man and I wanna be treated with respect! But I can't! I don't deserve it!" He was crying by this point. "And no one will ever love me, 'cause I'm trans, and he was being kind and doing me a favor dating me, and now he's gone, and--"

Virgil held a hand up and Ethan stopped, but tears still fell silently down his cheeks. "Ethan, you can come home to crash at our place, all right? And tomorrow, we are going to that prick's apartment, and we're getting your stuff."

"But..." Ethan hiccuped. "I'm not...not worth the trouble."

"Falsehood," Logan said. "Your ex is a piece of shit, Ethan. I'm sorry, but it's true. We're going to help you find a place to stay, whether that's with us or elsewhere. And when you find that place, we're going to help you get back on your feet. Virgil isn't going to fire you over this, Patton might give you a couple free meals, and you're always welcome to come to my shop to stop and smell the roses."

Ethan giggled a little and Patton smiled softly at him. "Do you wanna get out of here, buddy?" he asked.

"Mmm. Mhm," Ethan hummed.

The three helped Ethan stand and Virgil said something to Roman, which Roman nodded at. Ethan looked back at him, and Roman smiled and waved. Ethan waved back, but he was asleep before the others even got him to the car.

When Ethan woke up, he had a killer hangover, and he was in a room he didn't recognize. He sat up, realizing his binder was off, but his shirt on, and he was immensely confused. He stumbled out of the bedroom to find Virgil, Patton, Logan, and Roman all sitting at a table, laughing and eating breakfast. "Hey, Ethan," Virgil said. "How's your head?"

"Awful," Ethan muttered. "How'd I get out of my binder?"

Virgil winced. "Uh...you fell asleep by the time we got you to our car, so Pat and I had to quickly undress you and put you back in your shirt so you wouldn't damage your ribs. Don't worry, we didn't do anything untoward."

"I know you wouldn't," Ethan mumbled. "Why am I here? Why are you all here?"

"Well, we live here," Logan said. "All of us. We're in a polyamorous relationship. As for why you're here...your boyfriend apparently kicked you out."

Ethan closed his eyes and sucked in a breath as the previous night's blurry memories ran through his head. "Oh," he said softly.

"Fear not, Ethan, because we're getting your stuff today," Roman said.

"How?" Ethan asked. "Justin isn't gonna...gonna let me back in." Much as it hurt to say, it was true.

Roman stood, and Ethan noticed for the first time that he was built like a linebacker. "He's more than welcome to pick a fight with me while you get your things."

Logan rolled up his sleeves and Ethan noticed the toned, lean muscle in his forearms. "Myself as well."

Virgil smirked. "Me too," he said, "And you know that I've made professional martial artists cry."

"He can fight me too!" Patton exclaimed. "I'm, like, barely as tall as you, Ethan, but I'm completely willing to throw down for you!"

Ethan stared at them in shock. "You don't even know me," he said.

"We know you enough," Virgil said. "And you can crash here for as long as you need. But first, we're getting your stuff."

They made their way to Justin's place after Ethan had a quick breakfast, and Roman knocked on the door. There was shuffling, and then Justin flung the door open. "Whaddaya want?!" he snapped.

"We're here to get Ethan's stuff," Roman said sweetly, pushing Justin out of the way. Virgil led Ethan into the apartment and said, "Grab everything that's yours, Ethan, we'll help you carry it."

Ethan nodded and grabbed his testosterone first. Then, he went for his clothes, which he packed in his suitcase. After that, he grabbed the few books he owned, and he walked out to the living room to find Justin glaring at him. "Not even man enough to get your stuff on your own, Sammy?" Justin jeered.

Roman promptly decked him and said, "His name is Ethan," with as much venom as Ethan had ever heard in a four-letter sentence. "And seeing as how you don't respect that, we're going to take him off your hands."

Patton came out of the bathroom, holding up toiletries. "Are all these yours, Ethan? I figured you didn't have any of the cologne, or the cheap hair gel."

Ethan walked over and looked at Patton's collection. "That's everything," he said.

Logan strode out from the kitchen with the vase of flowers Ethan had left. "Do you have everything else?" he asked.

Ethan nodded. "The electronics and stuff are all Justin's, and my phone charger is in my suitcase."

"Then we should get going," Roman said. "Don't want to stay around toxic people like this for too long, they might get you sick."

Ethan nodded again. "I would say it was a pleasure, Justin, but I'd be lying," he said softly, walking out.

The others followed him out, and Roman gave him a gentle hug. "What was that for?" he asked.

"For being brave enough to come back here and get what's rightfully yours," Roman said. "Honestly, how you stayed with him for that long is a mystery to me."

"Stockholm syndrome?" Ethan asked.

"Eh, that's more focused towards abductions," Logan said. "But I see your point. Misplaced loyalty."

"Yeah," Ethan said softly.

Virgil nudged Ethan. "Chin up, Ethan. You're out of that situation now. It's gonna hurt, but you'll be free, and that's an amazing feeling."

Ethan offered Virgil a small smile.

"And hey, if you ever want to join our polyam pile, we'd be more than happy to welcome you!" Patton chirped. "I know it might take a while, but we'll be here as long as you want us to be, Ethan!"

Ethan smiled softly. "Thank you," he murmured.

"It's what you deserve," Logan said.

"I don't think so," Ethan said. "You guys are angels. I'm not deserving of angels."

"I'm taking that as an invitation to prove you wrong," Virgil warned. "So be prepared for a lot of aggressive pep-talks."

Ethan laughed. "Noted."

Tag List: @loganpatton @lilbeanblr @kittyboof8 @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @sanders-trash-4ever @hamilspntrash @swords-and-kittens @phantomfander @narniasfinestavengingsociopath @rjmeta @ambersky0319 @anni-cat-flower @idosanderssidespromptssometimes

#sanders sides fanfiction #sympathetic deceit #deceit sanders #dlamp #virgil sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders #our creations #ts remus #remus sanders

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artificialqueens · 6 years

Text

What You’re Looking For (MizChange)- Pisa

(AN): I really loved the idea of picturing Monet and Cracker together, so I decided to try a love story between them.

(Summary): Monet is an outgoing girl who wins over a shy, anxious Brianna Cracker with her charm

All of her life, Monet was considered charming. There was no one that she couldn’t win over with a smile and a wink. Teachers loved her, old people adored her, there wasn’t a person in the world she considered an enemy.

She didn’t have a single care in the world as she walked down the street and smiled at everyone she saw. What did she have to be sad about? Fall was in the air, and with fall came leaves all around her and pumpkin flavored anything. She had on a gold top with black jeans and black combat boots, topped with her favorite jean jacket. She had a matching gold headwrap to pull back loose strands from her messy bun. She knew she looked good, which added to her pure joy.

She went the long route to the bookstore, because she loved to walk through the park. A lot of grandparents sat outside on the benches to read or feed the birds. There was something comforting about them to Monet. They were so wise, they knew what was really important, living in the moment, experiencing nature. There was this one old woman that caught Monet’s eye. She had on a white frilly dress that looked like she owned it for decades, and a light blue cardigan draped over her shoulders. She was reading her book but looked up when she felt Monet’s eyes on her. They both smiled at each other and Monet nodded as she passed the woman. She looked so sweet. Monet felt a connection with her, and with anyone she made friendly eye contact with. It made her feel welcoming and warm. She loved it.

Monet was on a mission, to find a book she’d be interested in reading. She read books all of the time when she was a kid and loved them. Monet wanted to get to that magic of loving books again, no matter what it took.

Monet made her way into town, past a good smelling pizza place, and into the local bookstore. She abruptly felt like a deer in headlights as soon as she stepped through the door. Monet had passed it a hundred times, but never realised how big the store was on the inside. It was stacked from ceiling to floor with an endless amount of books. Monet felt overwhelmed, she wanted to retreat next door and order the biggest pizza they had, but she knew her goal was too important. She needed to feel young again.

She knew she looked stupid, gaping at the sheer amount of books that were in the store. It was so old fashioned, unlike the shiny, new bookstores like Barnes and Noble. The shelves were made out of a reddish wood hand carved with intricate designs. There were ladders to help you reach the top shelves. It was so aesthetically pleasing.

“Oh, hello dear!” Monet heard from behind her. She spun around to find an old women, much like the one she passed in the park, with a huge stack of books in her hand. “We don’t get a lot of pretty young things like you here, what can I help you with?”

“Hi! I was just looking for a light read. I’m just getting back into reading so I don’t want anything too difficult to get through”

“Well i’m glad you decided to start reading again dear. It’s never too late to find magic from a book again.” The women put the books down on the checkout counter. “Trust me, I would know”

Monet smiled “I was actually missing that good feeling from reading I got when I was a child. I used to be transported to different worlds, not a care at all.”

The women looked at her curiously “I think you should try the second floor” she smiled “There you’ll find what you’re looking for”

It’s almost like she’s speaking in riddles Monet thought as she nodded and headed towards the stairs. The stairs matched the bookshelves, which Monet found very impressive. When she got to the top, she found that it was just as marvelous as the first floor, except a little cosier. The lights were dim and there were bean bag chairs everywhere. It was completely empty from what Monet could see. She didn’t know where to start!

I should go for a romance novel. God knows I need romance in my life from SOMETHING Monet found the romance section near the back, very happy that they were on the top shelf so she could use the ladder. She backed up so she could try and see the titles from the top shelf, when she suddenly felt herself trip and fall backwards right on to her butt.

“Oh My Gosh!!” Monet turned her head to the side to see a blonde girl sitting in a bean bag chair. She got up with a bounce from her perfectly styled, curly hair. “I’m so sorry”

Monet was confused until she looked down at her feet to see the small stack of books that she had tripped on, which she figured belonged to the blonde girl.

“Here, let me help you out” She reached out her hand and Monet took it. She pulled her up until Monet was standing again, face to face with the blonde girl.

“Thanks” Monet said while looking down at the girls’ crystal blue eyes. Up close, her face was even more stunning. She had small features which contrasted with her big, blonde hair.

“I’m sorry, I should have paid more attention, no one’s usually up here” The girl still looked worried. The two were still as close as when they started, which should make Monet uncomfortable, but why didn’t it?

“It’s totally fine” Monet looked down at the books “Are these yours?”

“Yeah, I usually read here every day during the summer”

“You’re here every day?”

“Yeah!” Her cheeks got a little red “It’s a lot more fun than it seems”

“I believe it! I miss reading… “

“Is that why you’re here?”

“Yeah, I get a little bored this time of year”

Oh shoot I don’t even know her name

She stuck out her hand “I’m Monet” She gave a gentle smile that she did so well. She prided herself on making people feel comfortable.

“I’m Brianna” Brianna shook her hand and then tucked her hair behind her ear shyly. Monet found it so cute how nervous she seemed to be talking to her.

“Nice to meet you Bri. So, what kind of books do you have here?”

Brianna immediately got this surprised but excited look on her face. “Oh! Well.. uh… I’m in the middle of this one” She picked up the book she dropped when she saw Monet had fell. “Well, I wanted to read old fairy tales, to see if it was as good as I remember them. I was obsessed with them all throughout elementary school”

“And…”

“They’re even better the second time! I missed so many good metaphors and… “

Brianna paused as she looked like she was trying to find her words. Why is she so nervous? I’ve never made anyone this nervous before…

“So.. uh.. What were you searching for before… you know… I wiped you out?”

Monet chuckled. Good she’s starting to make jokes with me “I was just looking at the Romance section.”

Brianna laughed “Well you fell over the right girls books, I’ve probably read every Romance book this store has to offer, cover to cover”

“Well, which one’s would you recommend?”

Brianna described her favorite ones to Monet in full detail. This Bitch really knows her stuff. Monet couldn’t help but let her mind go on autopilot after a while, watching the girls pale pink lips move and her hair bounce when she did a hair flip over her shoulder. She got so much more relaxed when she was talking about things she was passionate about.

“Thank God I ran into you. I haven’t so much as picked up a book in years” Monet looked around the room. “I can see why you like it here, this place is cozy”

“It reminds me of a castle’s library” Brianna looked around as well

“Yes! You’re so right!”

Brianna looked up at Monet with a warm smile. Ugh!!! She’s so cute I just want to hug her….

“Have you ever been to the pizza place next door since you’re here so often? I walked by it on my way here and it smells amazing”

“I’ve actually never been! But I do agree it smells delicious!”

“I was thinking about going there after I get my book, would you like to come?”

“I would love that Monet!”

Monet decided on the book that seemed like it was Brianna’s favorite, from the way she talked about it. Brianna packed up all of her books and went with Monet to check out. As the two approached the desk, the woman Monet had met before looked up for a second to see the girls together, and quickly looked back down. Monet noticed her trying to hide a huge grin on her face. The woman checked her out when they approached the counter.

“Leaving so soon Brianna?” The woman smiled at a caught off guard Brianna. “I usually have to drag you out of here at closing time”

Brianna got a little anxious again “Uhh- Something came up” She glanced at Monet and gave a little smile.

The woman let it go and gave Monet her receipt “Come back anytime honey!”

“I will!” Monet wasn’t lying to the woman, she absolutely loved this new found place, and was planning on going back soon.

—

#pisa #fluff #miz cracker #monet x change #rpdr fanfiction #cracker x monet #lesbian au #s10 #rare pair

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takaraphoenix · 7 years

Text

Book Adaptations Wishlist

Let’s start with my biggest fandom that is based on a book-series. Percy Jackson and the Olympians, by Rick Riordan.

I’m one of the... very few who likes the Percy Jackson movies. Most certainly not in the sense of them being adaptations of the books. Hah. Good one. No, I view them more as “motion picture fanfiction”. I mean, damn the pretty cast they got. I love Clarisse and Chris in particular. And I will forever be grateful to the first movie because without it, I would have never in a million years found the books simply because I’m not a big reader so the only way I ever learn about books is by watching an adaptation and deeming it to be my taste.

Now, things with PJatO were a little more complicated than that. Back before the movie hit theatres, I was checking out all the releases announced for the year and among them was this. The word “Thief” in the title caught my attention because I love a good con movie or show. I clicked it and back then the link only lead to the book and a section about it getting an adaptation, so that’s how I found out it was a book adaptation. Reading the synopsis of the book, I thought it sounded pretty cool. Next step was, of course, to check the character list. Because I love Greek mythology.

Main character a son of Poseidon. That’s cool. I love elementals, particularly those with water-powers. And there, not far down, was the name that got me hooked. Nico di Angelo, son of Hades. HOLY UNDERWORLD YES. Hades is my favorite male god. That his kid was listed as one of the main characters of the series - and NOT as a bad guy, because if modern adaptations taught me one thing, it’s that American authors love to paint everything in black and white and anything related to the underworld had to be the devil.

So Nico di Angelo was why I went to see the movie. Needless to say, Nico wasn’t in it because he only joins the series later on. But I did like the movie, Percy was cute, I was still curious to meet Nico, so when I found myself on a classtrip to Munich weeks later and was dragged from store to store and ended up in a bookstore where all six books (I do count The Demigod Files as part of the original series too) were on display at the time, I impulse-bought them.

I loved them. A lot. We’re not gonna talk about Heroes of Olympus here because that will take too many hours of my time. Let’s just say I don’t love them.

But yeah, the movies are not good adaptations of the books.

Then again, personally, I think that no movie can ever properly do a book justice. You can’t take a story that unfolds in like 500 pages of book and cram it into a two hour movie. You’re forced to cut sooo much out of it. It just doesn’t work.

That’s why I’m a huge fan of this new trend of adapting books as TV shows. It’s a very good way of covering more ground, taking things slow and giving the plot its due.

I’m desperately waiting for a good Percy Jackson adaptation. But I don’t want it to be live-action, to be honest. I mean, between Grover’s furry butt, Chiron’s horse-hide, the monsters and pegasi and demigodly powers, the show would need a huge special effects budget. And that’s just not gonna happen. So it’ll look cheap as fuck. Which would be an utter shame.

No.

I want a Percy Jackson cartoon show. I’d entrust DreamWorks with this. DreamWorks has done some amazing cartoon shows the last decade - Voltron, Dragons, Trollhunters. Particularly the cooperation with Netflix is working well for them. And with the team behind Avatar, like they’re doing with Voltron, I could REALLY envision a Percy Jackson cartoon. Imagine Percy water-bending like Katara or Korra, Nico looking like Keith in goth-clothes, I’d be dying to see that. Particularly considering that Avatar and Voltron use this beautiful 2D art style. I wouldn’t object to quality 3D like Trollhunters and Dragons, but I’d prefer 2D. I’m an old-fashioned gal like that.

To me, that would be the perfect way of adapting Percy Jackson.

Aaand I got a little lost in Percy Jackson. It happens. Oh well, I guess this is gonna be a long-ass entry then.

What I wanted to say was that I thoroughly approve of the TV show adaptation of books. I know I love Game of Thrones and Vampire Diaries and, of course as you may have noticed if you know me at all, Shadowhunters. All books I haven’t read (though I’m trying to read The Mortal Instruments. I’m just slow). I’ve just always been more of a TV-show kinda gal than a book-reader.

Now, if only they’d adapt the books that I actually love to read. That would be amazing. But somehow, I read stuff that doesn’t even get movies. Sure I read Percy Jackson and that got two failed movies, but we already covered that.

Because yes, I actually do read. Books that I haven’t met through their adaptations.

My all-time favorite book is Wicked, by Gregory Maguire.

I started reading it back in 2010 when I was doing an internship at our cozy local little bookstore - a very homey little place that was specialized on fantasy and sci-fi books. And Wicked was relatively fresh out back then and stood there in the special display and drew me in because of the green-skinned lady. I have a thing for green-skinned ladies, but that’s between me and Shego. So I started reading it during my breaks, when I had nothing else to do. Ten pages here, twenty pages there. By the time my internship ended, I was too hooked to forget about it so I bought it.

I saw its musical adaptation twice. Once in Stuttgart, the German version, and then when I was in London for the first time, the English version.

I love that musical as much as I loathe it.

The same as The Lightning Thief movie. And I mean it. Literally the same. You can view it as live-action fanfiction, but you can not with half-a-mind view it as an adaptation. It has as much to do with the book as The Lightning Thief movie had to do with The Lightning Thief book. That is to say, the characters shared the same names, but neither their behavior nor their physical appearance actually fit. And the plot, if you cook it down to a very basic one sentence summary - “Percy Jackson has to find the Lightning Thief” and “Elphaba Thropp rebels against the wizard” - fits, but do not ever dig for actual details, because those do not cover what happens in the book.

As a musical lover and someone who can view an adaptation as a separate thing from the source-material, I thoroughly love the musical. But as someone who loves that book to bits and pieces, I hate that the majority of people have only ever heard about the musical and are most likely not even aware of the book or haven’t bothered reading it and are now actually under the impression that all it is is a cheesy love-story. Which it is not. The romance is a foot-note in this long masterpiece that is basically a metaphor for the holocaust. And I will never be able to forgive the stupid fix-it shit of “Oh, Fiyero was turned into the scarecrow and they lived happily ever after”. No. They don’t. Or the fact that they turned my favorite character into a vindictive piece of crap.

(Okay, so maybe I am not as able to separate the two as I like to think, but cut me some slack they turned Elphaba’s trusted friend into a literal heartless tin-man who wants to slaughter her. What the fuck is that even.)

And I got lost again.

So, yes, I want a Wicked adaptation done right. A TV-show. After all, this is a book that literally covers her entire life, from birth to death. It tells a pretty long story and I’d like to see it done right, instead of turned into a high school musical love drama, as the musical did. Not to mention I want to see the polyamorous relationship between Elphaba’s parents and Turtle Heart, maybe if we take more time for her childhood, we’d get more feels for the threesome too. Her two gay friends Crope and Tibbett. Her own “maybe not quite just friends” with Glinda. Her bisexual son who was entirely cut out of the musical. I mean, maybe we cut the girl out who married the Cowardly Lion, but uh they never had sex because she was a rape survivor who had no interest of ever having sex again - perhaps was even asexual, though it was never explicitely stated in the books - and only married him for safety reasons and all that did connect them was deep friendship?

I’d also like to mention my favorite book-series - while Wicked is my favorite book and its direct sequel Son of a Witch might be the only book I ever read within a literal day because I couldn’t put it down, the third and fourth books were a little on the... drawn out and exhausting side of things.

The Bartimaeus-series by Jonathan Stroud.

Bartimaeus is my favorite book-series, because it is - from start to finish - perfection. And Bartimaeus himself is a sassy little shit. We’d definitely need voice-over narration to not forget his sass. Can’t decide if I’d want it as a cartoon or as a live-action show though. But either way, I’d kiss the feet of the person who would fucking finally decide to adapt that book-series. I mean, seriously, among all the many, many shows and all the many, many adaptations these days, how has no oneever thought about giving this book any form of adaptation? It deserves it. It really does deserve a good adaptation.

And then there’s just one more. My favorite childhood books.

The Woodland Folk, by Tony Wolf.

I don’t think many people have ever even heard of this. It’s from an Italian author and as a child, I only owned two out of the twelve books that existed. But they were my most often read books. I knew them by heart, literally.

I later on, as a teen, bought the missing ten books on the internet and devoured them.

Those books are the reason I got hooked on fantasy, why I am obsessed with fairies and mermaids and witches. Tony Wolf’s illustrations in those books are the reason I always wanted to draw. They are beautiful and sweet and they would make for an amazing cartoon.

I know out of all of those books on this wish-list, this is the one that’s most far-out-there and will probably never happen, but I’d be ridiculously happy if it did.

#percy jackson and the olympians #pjato #pjo #wicked #the woodland folk #bartimaeus #please netflix turn them all into shows?#and some of them into cartoons?#i vote for a percy jackson cartoon #dreamworks #no more movie-adaptations of books please #gregory maguire #tony wolf #jonathan stroud #rick riordan #book adaptations #pjoverse #Percy Jackson and the Olympians #Heroes of Olympus

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theboardwalkbody · 7 years

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Penny Dreadful and the Modern Day Time-slip AU Headcanons/ficlets: Chapter 1 - Caliban VS Bookstores (and also he discovers Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein and decides Victor has some explaining to do).

Summary: Somehow the main PD characters fall through a time-slip and end up in the Modern Day world. It’s loud and boisterous and abrasive. New technology, terms, fashion, and so much more is there for them to learn about.

Caliban finds himself at a bookstore, looking for something to remind him of home; looking for something to comfort him. He stumbles across what is arguably the most frightening thing he never even imagined, however, and it leaves him wanting answers.

Bookstores have always been a place of comfort. Books of poetry piled to the ceilings offered solace and spoke to his sense of loneliness and isolation. But not these modern day bookstores. Shiny covers full of bright and colorful photographs seemed childish and gaudy. He knew he should never judge a book by it’s cover and yet he found himself doing it anyway. The flashy covers that gave away all the stories secrets weren’t even the worst of it. No, it was as if the book store went from a place for the lonely seeking thrill, adventure, and romance - a place where the scholarly and educated sought to connect to prose and perhaps another soul - and was now instead a place for children to socialize. Groups of teenagers hanging out drinking beverages that were supposed to be coffees and teas but had names quite unlike any coffee or tea he had ever heard of from the coffee shop located inside the shop (an idea that was incredible but one he felt didn’t have the charm he thought it would) were often loud and could, quite frankly, be rude. Too many times did he hear laughing and snickering from one particular group every time he passed by the shelves opposite them. It appeared to him they were not here at all for the books but simply for their coffee’s and for the status they felt it gave them. The children’s sections were endearing at first. A place for children to learn to read and have every story for every level of reading all in one convenient location but, and perhaps this was more so the fault of the parent rather than their own, they were often rowdy and uncontrolled. Crying, screaming, and tantrums were jarring to the ear and were too much distraction to allow for a pleasant reading or browsing experience. Made worse by the fact their cries could be heard across the store.

Still, his adoration for poetry and prose drove him to continue on rather than leave. He was determined to find something in which to pre-occupy his mind and soothe his soul with. Something for him to get lost in, or perhaps something to allow him the comfortable feeling of home in this new and frightening age. He stumbled among a discounted novel section - the books here had covers that were solid and plain and made of leather (well, okay, faux leather). They were new but tried to pass off as old. It was the closest thing he could get to what he was expecting so he lingered in the section. “Classics” the section was called and most of the stories were collections of works and discounted. The works of Charles Dickens were complied into one edition of a book, a selection of some of Shakespeare’s greats were bound together in a collection of their own, a collection of three works about vampires were in another. Shakespeare pulled at him and he picked up the thick book. It would offer him comfort and familiarity at least. But he found that behind it there was an entirely different book, misplaced by some careless patron or employee who perhaps wasn’t paying attention. Red faux leather with black font and trim, the title: Penny Dreadfuls. Always appreciative of macabre and horror he placed the works of Shakespeare down a moment so he could pick up this new book and see what it might contain.

He carefully opened the cover and read from the table of contents; works by Poe, of course, The String of Pearls; a work he was familiar with as it had given rise to Sweeney Todd, the play production he had become fond of during his time as a stagehand; a few authors names he couldn’t quite place and one name and title that was so jarring he could have sworn his heart had stopped, though the concept was absolutely impossible: Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein.

Two name’s he was all too familiar with but which made no sense with their given context: Shelley and Frankenstein. He knew of a Percy Shelley, his works he was most fond of, but he had never heard of a Mary Shelley. He assumed it was a married name, but he was unaware Percy had married. Most shocking, of course, was the name Frankenstein - written there in ink clear as day on the page was a name he both loathed and knew with such intimacy.

His hands trembled as he hastily turned to the page indicated to be the start of the work. He skimmed over the words, falling into a false sense of security as names, dates, and circumstance he did not recognize passed by his gaze. Something about a boat, a man near death, a sailor writing home to his wife - perhaps the names had been a coincidence and nothing more. However, he finished skimming the prologue and got to chapter one and began catching key terms and growing once again at the same time fearful, confused, and enraged with each familiar term. The narrative was told in first person and he was trying with all his might to forget about the coincidence of the locations, of the sequence of events, of their familiarity to what he knew about the man he knew as his creator until the moment when the narrator was named. Victor. He was reading the story of Victor Frankenstein.

In his panic and rage he had forgotten completely about the safety and security of the works of Shakespeare. He tucked the hardcover anthology under his long coat and stormed out of the shop. On his walk back to the place they had managed to secure for themselves to get out of the cold he skimmed through the pages with anticipation and dread, hoping he wouldn’t find what he ultimately figured he would. And alas, he did. A creature. A creation. An abomination. All his names except for the one’s he chose for himself. He snapped the book shut just in time to look up and see he had almost collided with a man standing at the street corner waiting to cross the road. He stopped and waited to cross as well.

“Those are good stories,” the man standing there said when he saw the cover. “Barnes and Nobel, right? They’ve got good collections. I like the old-timey feel to those editions, though.” Caliban didn’t reply. He wasn’t in the mood for small talk. It didn’t seem to deter the young man, however, who kept on carrying the conversation. “Bram’s stories are cool, of course, I mean, Dracula and all. But, let’s be real, Frankenstein is the real reason for that collection. I’ve got like, three editions of it, the covers are cool.” Caliban glared at the man. “There’s more?” “Editions? Yeah of course,” the man laughed. “One of the one’s I also got at Barnes and Nobel has like lightning on the cover and the pages are colored silver, it’s pretty cool. Hey - have you read it yet or no? I guess I should have asked that first.” He wanted to laugh. Has he read it yet? He lived it. He shook his head, “I know it, lunatic playing with life and death as though he is a god, a creature neither living nor dead condemned to eternal suffering while his creator never once has to suffer like the thing he gave life to suffers.” The young man, not put off by the harshness of his voice, smiled, “yeah man! See you get it! So many people just see those old school black and white films or like hear about it from references in Alvin and the Chipmunks Meet Frankenstein and shit. Frankenweenie and like you know, the Halloween shit. Green dude with bolts in his neck - thinking that the monster is Frankenstein and shit and not realizing Frankenstein is the doctor. But you get it man! Yeah, you’ll love it. It’s such a great book!” Half the things the man said only furthered his confusion but he only added them to the ever growing list of questions he had that there would be hell to pay for should they not be answered and instead said, “No, Frankenstein is the true monster.” He had had enough of the conversation and was sick of waiting for the light to change, he turned and detoured around the block.

He reached the hole-in-the-wall room of the inn they’d managed to get and slammed the door open, startling those who chose to remain inside rather than explore their surroundings at that particular time. Among them was Victor, who’s head snapped up from it’s position cradled by his arms folded on top of the dresser he had propped a chair in front of, just the very person he wanted to unleash hell itself upon. Too bad he couldn’t. Sir Malcolm Murray and Ms. Vanessa Ives had also apparently chosen to stay in, or perhaps had gone out and already returned.

Victor looked worse for wear. He was in the beginning phases of withdrawl and was currently in a situation where he was clueless and had no means of obtaining his next fix. Caliban felt no pity for him. He tossed the book at him, aiming for his head, and was disappointed when the heavy book collided with the wall just shy of his creators head instead. It left a hole behind where the corner had hit the drywall. If Victor hadn’t have moved it most likely would have broken his nose.

“What the --” Victor began but Caliban cut him off. “What is that?” Caliban shouted. “A... book?” Victor answered like he had been asked the most stupid question in the world.

Caliban growled in response and made to cross the tiny room with the intent of wringing the wiry man’s neck but Vanessa sprung up from her seat on one of the beds and stood in his path.

“Mr. Clare,” she said calmly, “what is wrong?” He didn’t cross the boundary line she’d created between him and Victor with her own body but he did look around her and direct his next instruction at the man who liked to pretend he had all the answers, “read it.”

Victor picked up the book and turned it right side up so he could read it. “Penny Dreadfuls,” he read out loud for the benefit of the other two occupants of the room who were, undoubtedly, just as confused as him. Sir Malcolm’s attention was on him but Vanessa held Caliban’s gaze steady, her presence seemed to calm him.

“Open it!” Caliban growled, impatient.

Victor opened it and turned to the table of contents. “Poe, Stoker, Doyle, Mary Shelley’s --” he cut himself off and the silence it left behind was almost tangible.

“Read. It. Aloud.” Caliban said.

Victor swallowed, his throat felt like it had closed off and he was having a hard time breathing. “Mary -- Mary Shelley’s... Frankenstein.” He whispered his own name as he couldn’t muster anything louder. He realized his body was shaking. He was thankful he was sitting down.

Vanessa had turned around to look at her friend. Caliban moved around her and loomed over Victor. Luckily Vanessa’s presence helped to dissipate some of his anger - certainly helped curb his murderous intent - but he still wanted answers.

“How?” he asked. “I-I- I don’t know,” Victor stammered. “How can you not know?” Caliban asked. “I know just as much as you about this!” Victor yelled at him, then added, softer, “I don’t know what this is. I don’t know how... have you read it?” Caliban replied, “I skimmed it. It’s about us. You creating me. You creating a bride for me. It’s not all right. But it’s right enough.” “Anyone else?” Victor asked, as he looked up and saw Vanessa and Malcolm’s eyes focused intently on them. “No,” Caliban answered, catching what he meant. “But there’s more.” “What do you mean?” Victor questioned. “I spoke to a man about it. He said there’s more editions. Something about films and chipmunks meeting you or me and something called Frankenweenie,” he answered. Victor looked as if Caliban may as well have been speaking a different language, “What?” Caliban shrugged, “Apparently most people think I’m you.” Victor groaned. “You’re not the only one who’s disgusted by the thought!” Caliban growled, his anger rising again.

“May I see it?” Vanessa spoke up to draw their attention away from each other.

Victor hesitated but Caliban ripped the book from his grasp and handed it gently to her. For some reason he felt more comfortable with it in her possession than in anyone else’s.

“Do either of you mind if I read it?” she asked. Neither of them answered right away. “Maybe it will give us answers,” she explained. “Unless one of you would like to read it instead?”

Victor felt the bile rise in his throat at the thought. He didn’t want to read about his life. It was either accurate or it wasn’t but one thing he knew: if it mentioned him piercing the veil that separated life from death and creating life anew than it told enough of his misdeeds and he was not keen on reading about all his errors in print. He knew them well enough.

Caliban considered it but ultimately decided it would be for the best if it was Vanessa who read it. He had no interest in knowing his creator any more than he already did. He had no interest in reading about some version of his birth. He lived what he lived and had no interest in the past.

When neither of them answered in protest she concluded, “then it is settled. I’ll read it on your behalf.”

The tension in the room defused and the atmosphere began to calm down.

“I am curious, however,” Sir Malcolm spoke up, “what the hell a Frankenweenie is.”

Vanessa smiled along with Sir Malcolm but Victor groaned again and hung his head, this time out of some sense of embarrassment. Caliban sneered and looked away but only because he was trying to hide his own smile creeping at the corners of his mouth. He was still confused and upset by his discovery but he decided he was going to have to look into the situation more closely some other time when he had more resources available to him.

#penny dreadful #caliban #victor frankenstein #vanessa ives #fanfic #pdfanfic #manda writes #mandas fic

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