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lapetitsorciere · 1 year

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The Crown… Who now wears the Crown?

It was more than just a terrible idea to bring back the Crown that caused so much trouble before. Pix as an archeologist and a historian, one of his kind on the server should have thought everything through before putting it on, or even before taking it from the place, where it was hidden, he should know more than others do about it and the things that were happening because of it. He shouldn’t have been so naïve at the first place and here are some reasons:

1) The catastrophe which caused the end of all the empires thousands and thousands years ago and the awful things that happened through its fault. 2) There is three villains on the server already: Jimmy (the most safe from all of them), Shelby who isn’t yet sure of what she is doing and proclaimed herself a villain almost for no reason at all (+ she just feels comfortable with her sculk) and Sausage Supreme – one of the most powerful creatures, probably in all dimensions, who is hungry for power and for blood. And it is more than enough, considering the fact that Lizzie has a great villain potential. 3) Goodness Gracious! There are too much people who’d like to try the Crown on and take advantage of the power that it is giving, but it is unknown how exactly would they use it. Pix made it even more tempting to get setting his rule. 4) The Crown itself might be cursed.

Now something about what could the Rulers ask for, wearing the Crown and the consequences of it:

The Ruler – The Rule – The way of getting the Crown – The way of losing it.

King Pix – Bring one item of national importance to your Empire to donate to the museum. – Got the Crown from the chest that was hidden behind the mural in the catacombs. - Was withered away on The Princess Tea Party and became a ghost, so his reign didn’t last long. (There are two possibilities – either it happened because of the Crown itself, or it was a Sausage Supreme move. Yeah, or in was all because of the Fae we know nothing about or something else we have no clue about either.)

King Scott – Build something of your choice in Chromia. – Got the Crown when Pix died, because he was close to the place of his death. – Who knows what can happen to him, because there is too much going on – the evil ones and the people who can decide to get the Crown for themselves for the reasons of their own, and also he is an adventurer, so he may give up the Crown for somebody else, or the mysterious something cam kill him. • From here on no order yet:

Queen Lizzie – ? (Can be anything, including something mischievous) – Probably killed somebody just for fun or made them give it to her to try on for the same reason, or found it when the current owner was away fighting something, which could make them loose the Crown, so they decided to hide it in their Empire somewhere in a safe place, or because he was close to the place of death of the previous Ruler. – The same as with Scott, except for the traveling aspect and giving the Crown up for somebody else.

King Joel – ? Probably something that can praise him or entertain him. – Probably killed someone, because he wanted to find out how it would feel to be a God and a King at the same time, so it is almost the same as if it was done just for fun. – The same as Lizzie, but also can make a tournament in his own honor.

King Sausage – ? Most likely – the Establishment of peace in all of the Empires (and maybe – build a temple of Saint Pearl in each Empire), and/or assemble the forces to defeat the common enemy. – Either got it, because he was close to the place of death of the previous Ruler, or because he won the tournament for the Crown, or because he killed its previous owner, because they were possessed by someone or something. – The same as Joel, but would give the Crown up for Pearl if she would be willing to take it.

King Sausage Supreme – To become his slaves and to serve his needs and/or to accept their death. – Most definitely killed the previous owner of the Crown, because wanted to rule the whole world and have his revenge on Sausage, or ordered someone, for example: Shelby to do it for him, for the same reason. – Most likely was defeated by Sausage, or Sausage and Joel, or Pearl, or any other combination of the same people, or by the collective forces of all of the Empires.

King Jimmy – To be finally respected properly and to be returned his normal size (may be also – to bring Tiny Tom to their dimension from the Hermitcraft). – Most likely, because he was close to the place of death of the previous owner of the Crown, because he can hardly do anything properly and the chances that he won’t fail to kill somebody are very, very low. – the same as Lizzie.

King Joey – To get him anything valuable, everything valuable that can be found on server or becoming his crewmates in case of the appearance of Sceletrone. – Most definitely killed the previous Ruler just for fun and to find out whether Katherine would love him now and so he would have a higher position than Shelby to make her go out of his way. – the same as Lizzie, but would give up the Crown to Katherine if she would ask him about it the right way.

Queen Katherine – ? Probably to help her to bring her kingdom back to normal. – Either got it because it was given to her, or because he was close to the place of death of the previous Ruler, or because she had to kill them for they were possessed by someone or something. – The same as Lizzie.

Queen Shelby - ? Maybe – save her from the sculk if she finally understands that it is not good at all or to follow Sausage Supreme, or to become officially accepted by the witch society. - Either got it because it was given to her, or because he was close to the place of death of the previous Ruler, or because she had to kill them for any possible reason. – the same as Lizzie, but possibly would give the Crown up for Sausage Supreme if he would manage to convince her to do it.

Queen False – ? Maybe – to get her back to Hermitcraft and/or to restore her memory completely. – Because she was close to the place of death of the previous Ruler (unlikely) or because she found out that someone mysteriously gave the Crown up for her (highly unlikely). – the same as Lizzie, but probably will give it to somebody else, for example to Pix to get read of it. (It is unlikely that she will even get the Crown at the first place.)

King Fwhip – ? (Can be anything, including something mischievous) – Probably killed somebody just for fun or made them give it to her to try on for the same reason, or because he was close to the place of death of the previous Ruler. – The same as Lizzie.

Queen Gem – ? To get into her Sun religion. – Because he was close to the place of death of the previous Ruler. – The same as Lizzie.

King Oli – ??? Maybe – to help him to bring up his Dragon-baby? Or to forgive all of his debts? - Because he was close to the place of death of the previous Ruler. – The Same as Lizzie, but if he would decide that it is too much responsibility for him, he would, probably give it to Eddie and establish peace between Empires or to Sausage, hoping for the same thing. (How would he even manage to get the Crown?)

What can even go wrong?

Can we just give the Crown to Hermes? It would be fun and by all means great, and the world wouldn’t face any catastrophes.

P.S. The Fae is an interesting creature – it asks for something and gives something in return, but there is a big But – it causes a lot of damage and harms the one she benefits if the one does something wrong or just not quite the way it was asked to be done. It told Sausage that it appreciates Sanctuary and then asked for help (after him and Joey tried to bring turtles to the isle, because the pirate called it Plantina and decided that it is his child now and sausage is the only one who is a good patent capable of raising a child, so he can give him some good advice), obviously understanding that Joey is not very good at granting its wishes. It asked Joey for help and Joey did it, it asked for help once again and Joey and Sausage did what it asked for, but it didn’t satisfy the Fae for the first time, so Sausage had to sit on the isle and wait for turtle eggs to hatch for a long, long time as a punishment and only then it was satisfied. It asked Jimmy for help and gave him wings when he needed them the most, but he was cursed, when he did what it asked then not completely as it told him, so now he can’t get rid of the Scull of the First Creeper (it doubles each time Jimmy tries to destroy it and he can’t manage to give it to the Fae) and unintentionally destroys everything around him and it almost threatened him. It asked Katherine for help and asked for it again when she and Lizzie fulfilled but nothing else has happened yet. It asked Lizzie for help and told her that it will help her to get a Princess Dress and it did, but Lizzie had to fight a warden to get it. And the other interesting thing is that nobody can hear it, except for the person it talks to. P.P.S.: Plus, there are very few people on the server who know the secret of the Fae (That’s a Behind the Lore bit.) and that’s not a Sausage thing! Sausage confirmed that he knows nothing about it (yes, not as he didn’t ever lie to us for the lore purposes, but now it is most definitely so), Jimmy is as confused as always and as he told on one of his streams he was partially banned from the Empires SMP chat, for sometimes he accidentally leaked the information that was important for the lore (spoilers) and now he sometimes doesn’t know what they are even doing at all, if they forget to tell him and the messages are hidden from him. Who?… What else?… So this is another mystery.

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umichenginabroad · 1 month

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Stockholm Week 10: Grind Before Barcelona

Hi! I can’t believe that it’s already the end of March. Isn’t that crazy? It still feels like late February to me.

I’m bringing this up because my trip to Barcelona is coming up real fast. I am leaving on the 27th when the Explorative Travel Week begins! We get a week off as a travel break; certain elective courses travel as a class during that week, but I am not in any of those electives so I get a week off from school. Hurray!

The number 1 country I wanted to travel to was Spain, and I am finally going there next week. That also means that this week has been rough, catching up with all the homework and finishing up projects before the break.

3/18 Mon: (the best news) Class Canceled!

On Monday, the only class I had switched to online at the last minute due to traffic issues.

I took the opportunity to call my boyfriend and my mom while I worked on my assignments the entire day. I slept earlier than usual, around 11 pm, to treat myself :)

3/19 Tue: Spicy Uno

We have been watching this Netflix series called The Chestnut Man in the Scandinavian Crime Fiction class, and I have been on my nerves since the start of the show. The plot and the music interact too well to the point that I have to cover my ears and close my eyes every now and then. I hate horror movies but I would say this is an extremely well-played thriller/detective show. I recommend it to anyone who likes mystery/crime genre!

When I’m at home, I always have to try very hard to refrain from watching the rest of the episodes on my own. It has been a difficult battle but I made it to the 5th episode (out of 7) without binge-watching it alone.

I didn’t know (and wouldn’t have known) that crime fiction was so popular in the Scandinavian region before I took this class. I can see why it’s so famous; all the books and films are quite good! I always look forward to starting a new book or series in class. This course has been my absolute favorite class in Stockholm :)

During lunchtime, I surprisingly met a new friend who’s going to Barcelona on the same day!!! She and her friend booked their flight yesterday, so I never heard about them when I was asking everyone if they’d like to join our Barcelona trip. The most surprising part was that her friend turned out to be my friend who always sat next to me in two classes! We exchanged numbers to talk more about the trip.

Afterward, I went to Arkivet, a second-hand store on the higher end. There are high-quality clothes that are in good condition—all the way from H&M and Zara to COS, BOSS, and Coach. Although it is a bit more expensive than other stores like Myrona or Stockholm Stadsmission, the pool is much better in my opinion. I bought a Tommy Hilfiger trench coat for $70!

There are so many buttons on this coat

Happy with my purchase, I came back home and made Alfredo pasta for dinner. I have been CRAVING creamy pasta and it momentarily satisfied my yearning. I need to go to an Italian restaurant and get a good alfredo spaghetti soon.

I threw some chicken and sausage in there too :)

That night, my friends and I all gathered around my room to play Spicy Uno. My friend taught us the extra rules and it was a lot more fun than I expected. Towards the end, we even incorporated Never Have I Ever into the game (ง˙∇˙)ว

After they all left, I couldn’t sleep right away because of the sugar rush from all the goodies we ate (ice cream, jellies, chips, chocolate bars, and wafers).

I blame this sugar rush for the catastrophe that happened a few minutes later.

I was peacefully putting on a new set of fake nails until the nail glue fell down on my joggers. I can definitely say that it was an exothermic reaction because where the glue spilled was hot. Thankfully, I was able to separate my pants from my thighs by lifting it up a little bit, but my pants did not survive the accident.

Picture that captures the moment of the tragic incident

If anyone knows how to remove nail glue on clothes please let me know ( •́ ̯•｡̀ )

3/20 Wed: Skansen Open-Air Museum!

Today’s field trip for our Swedish class was Skansen, the world’s first open-air museum!

The escalator was endless and the area of the museum was unparalleled to any other museums I visited. We had a full experience with the tour guide—we even got to go into houses from the 1700s and see reindeer!

Us inside the houses

More cool photos:

Some cool facts:

Going to church was obligatory: people were officially tested on their bible knowledge and the answers were recorded!

Each house was numbered (well over two thousand pieces for each house), deconstructed, relocated, and reconstructed in the museum!

After free fika with the entire class, my friend and I hung out around T-Centralen. We went to cafes, second-hand stores (again), and the system. We headed back to the hog together.

For the rest of the night, I worked on the insurmountable group project for my online ChemE class until 4 am… ;)

3/21 Thu: Reeeaaaading

I woke up early to do the pre-lecture homework for the classes. Despite dozing off for a few minutes here and there, I finished the assignment!

For Friday’s class, I started and finished reading half of The Wolf and the Watchman by Niklas Natt och Dag. I’m starting to spot the similarities in the settings of the crime fiction novels!

3/22-3/23 Fri-Sat: Zoom Meetings

I devoted two whole days to working on the group project. I had a series of Zoom sessions with the Professor and then with teammates.

Cooking and doing laundry was my time off from work!

When I was done with the project around 11 pm Saturday, I started scavenging for English-guided tours for Barcelona. The tickets were rapidly selling out!

I managed to get an English tour of Sagrada Familia and Park Guell. They were expensive, but when would I ever have the chance to visit Spain? With that mindset, I joyfully paid for the events.

3/24 Sun: Planning Barcelona..

My body weighed 200 tons today and wouldn’t have gotten out of bed until 2 pm if it wasn’t for the Barcelona planning meeting I scheduled with my friends.

We met at Downtown Camper Cafe in T-Centralen and stayed there for three hours, making reservations and finalizing schedules. We are ready to fly to Barcelona!

The bathroom was fancy

Again, when I got home, I cooked and did more homework.

Tada!

With the energy I gained from dinner, I was able to work on the group project until I got burnt out at 9 pm. I called my mom for a little (meaning 1.5 hours) and did some more work before going to sleep.

I am SO excited to share my experience in Barcelona next week!

Stay tuned for new, rejuvenating adventures coming soon!!!

Tack,

Jiwoo Kim

Chemical Engineering

DIS Study Abroad in Stockholm, Sweden

#UmichEnginAbroad #IPEStockholm #JiwooKim #IPEWinter24 #Sweden

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unicyclehippo · 2 years

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one word prompt: childcare

when eddie and nancy go toe-to-toe, robin and steve make themselves scarce.

ordinarily, robin would put every cent she has on nancy but playing this game as they have every weekend for a few weeks now has shown her a new side to eddie. rumour made it out that he was this, like, barely scraping-by dude: drug-addled, rude, tattooed, long-haired freak. but as it happens, he also has a stubborn streak a mile wide. immovable object, meet unstoppable force: nancy wheeler. the impact of which is catastrophic for anyone in the room.

steve snags robin's collar—because one man's catastrophe is another woman's weekend entertainment—and drags her out to make hot dogs.

'pass. i've cooked enough for a lifetime.'

'when have you ever cooked?' he demands, slinging a teatowel over his shoulder.

'uh, hello? scoops a-hoy? maybe you don't remember because you literally never did your job but i worked there every day the whole summer long.'

steve pulls a face. 'that's not cooking, though.'

'yes it is.'

'no it's not. it's icecream.'

'it - it's - it's cooking adjacent. and it's nothing i ever want to do again. plus - plus - pb and j's. for hours, steve. hours.'

'again, not cooking. but hey - there's a silver lining for you,' he says with a forced smile, eyes so fucking sad that she's already mentally flailing for something to distract him, 'with the mall burned down and a giant demon cross cutting through the main road, you'll probably never have to work fast food again. yay.'

she fake cheers with the same enthusiasm she does for the basketball games she's required to attend (that is, not much) and starts to back away to the kitchen door.

'hey - wait! you're really not going to help?'

'sorry steve. hot dogs freak me out. whatever you're thinking of saying,' she says, holding up a hand to stop him and his stupid smirk, 'do not. it's the smell. and also i read this article recently that said that store-bought sausages are made from all the left over waste and processed with chemicals before being stuffed into a weird skin tube and the article said that each sausage—each one, steve, not one in a dozen or one in a unit, each one—has an average of four human body parts in it.'

steve gags. 'like, fingers?'

'what? no, steve.'

'you said body parts!'

'like hair or nails. not fingers.'

'still. gross.' he frowns down at the sausages in his hand. while he's distracted, robin steps backwards out the door and wanders off. behind her, she hears, 'i got these from the butcher, though? does that make a difference? robin?'

the henderson mum had a brief flirtation with the idea of a home gym, which is why robin finds a stationary bike crammed into the corner of a little study. actually, it might have been a semi-serious relationship with those late-night infomercials because she's also got a stack of workout videos, a pastel selection of sweatbands (unopened), a do-it-yourself home perm kit, a huge container of off-brand lollipops, and a stack of encyclopedia's from A through G.

'well, well, well. don't mind if i do.'

she's idly peddling on the bike, mismatched sweatbands on her head and wrists and ankles, sucking on a lollipop that tastes a little like lemon and a lot like soap, and part-way through the history of braces—which goes into some interesting further reading on the fluoridation of water in the states—when steve's kid storms into the house like he owns the place. and sure, it's his house, but he doesn't have to be so loud about it, all slamming doors and stampeding down the hall, past the study and deeper into the house. probably his room, but soon he is back and flings open the study door with a loud,

'STEVE?'

robin glances up from the encyclopedia she has balanced on the bike handles to see him drop to the ground—like steve would be hiding under the desk?—and scramble up with a (loud) huff. he slams the door behind him without even a hello or how are you.

she's gonna have to have words with steve about that. she's not the expert on polite conversation—that's steve's realm of expertise, which is precisely her point. what the heck is he teaching this kid?

a second later, he throws the door open again and comes to stand in front of her, hands on hips.

'robin!'

'steve's kid,' she acknowledges without looking up. the pedals squeak as she slowly pedals.

'i have a name.'

'good for you.'

he waits a few seconds, presumably to give her time to use it; when she doesn't he rolls his eyes so forcefully his head rolls too. dropping his chin to his chest, he groans, like talking to her is the hardest thing ever.

'do you know,' the kid says, nice and slow, 'where steve is?'

'nope.'

'do you know where he was?'

robin drags out the seconds before she answers. she flicks the page, even though she wasn't quite finished. the kid takes to pacing in the five seconds she delays and she has to scratch her nose to hide her grin. it's her right to irritate him—a right hard-earned through nothing more than the chaotic universe spitting her out years before him—and it's a right that she wouldn't give up for anything.

'did you check the bathroom?'

the kid scoffs. 'what do you think i am? stupid? don't answer that. the bathroom was the first place i checked.'

'hm.'

'robin, please. enough misdirection.' he stops his pacing directly in front of the bike and grabs the handles, yanks himself forward so that his face is right in front of hers. 'let's be frank with each other,' he says like he's a particularly condescending businessman instead of a twelve (maybe?) year old kid. 'you and i both know that steve is here, somewhere. just tell me where.'

she pulls the lollipop from her mouth and points it at him, accusatory. 'has anyone told you that you need to work on your attitude?'

steve's kid closes his eyes, weary. with her specifically. 'yes.'

'hm. did you try the kitchen?'

'what? no. why would i?'

'um, because he's a teen guy and needs to eat, like, all the time? and because ever since he's started babysitting you guys,' she reaches out, ruffles his hair, 'he's really stepped into the roll of nanny, which includes,' she spreads her hands dramatically, 'food preparation.'

steve's kid scowls. reaches up to fix his hair. she watches him fondly; when he panics just so about his precious curls, it makes him look so much like steve.

'i'm going to tell him you called him that.'

robin just arches a brow and salutes him lazily, lollipop held between two fingers like a cigarette.

he leaves and he does not close the door. little shit.

his friend—the one that got lost, or kidnapped, or - and it's wild that it's only just now occurring to her - got sucked into the upside down—is left standing alone in the front room like a scarecrow, all gangly height and stock-still.

before she can think better of it, robin is abandoning her sweet set-up and sidling over to him and then she's halfway there and he's seen her approach, is turning toward her with a confused look, which means she can't divert even if she is thinking better of it now. she stops in front of him and digs into her jacket pocket, offers him one of the handful of lollipops she snagged from the stash.

'lemon soap candy?'

'uh. thanks.' he takes it but doesn't unwrap it, just fiddles with the foil, which makes a quiet rustling sound. his eyes dart left and right but there's no one else around—eddie and nancy took their fight to the basement, steve in the kitchen—so he resettles.

'robin.'

'oh. will.'

she nods like she doesn't know he's been kidnapped and traumatised by otherworldly monsters. 'yeah, the other one, he's mentioned you. you used to run these games. for the other,' she wriggles her fingers in the direction of the kitchen, where steve's kid just thundered toward, 'children.'

will doesn't take offence at the moniker; rather, his face lights up and there's not enough baby fat left on it for the expression to look cherubic, as she's sure it once did. now, it makes him look so damn vulnerable, moved that she knows who he is and robin gets it. in that moment, she gets why steve stole a kid. because this one is taller than she is but she's having to actively fight the urge to tuck him under her arm and throw a molotov at anything that so much as looks at him wrong. it's hard, being different in this world, and something about him screams out that he's like her; it's like at some point in their youth everyone decided, everyone knew it about them—stamped WEIRD across their forehead, metaphorically speaking, or slapped a sticker on their back that is the social equivalent of KICK ME—and when the town is as small as hawkins, you can't run far enough to start anew.

something swells in her at the thought of this kid getting treated the same, something sharp and hot and fierce. she's felt it before; it usually leads to her saying things she shouldn't to people who are more important than her, or just. ignoring it. running it off. but something about will—maybe his awkward sway, maybe his oh-so-neatly tucked in shirt, maybe everything—makes her grind her teeth and her knuckles pop in her hands. she swallows hard; shoves the feeling aside to focus on what he's saying to her.

'yeah! um - mike and lucas and dustin. sometimes max, but she didn't like it as much. i think she mostly came to hang out with lucas,' he says softly, like he's telling her a secret and not something that's abundantly obvious to everyone who has ever seen max and lucas ever. 'are you, um, familiar?'

she blinks. 'i'm learning. eddie gave me the rulebook a few weeks ago—he taped the second half of it shut? apparently i'm not supposed to see -'

'it's the adventure, the second half. you can't see that.'

'that's what he said but he didn't explain.'

'oh. oh, okay!' will doesn't jump up and down with excitement, but there's as much visceral delight in the way he smiles and straightens up, just a little, that he might as well have. 'so the adventure is all the information about the story as well as the monsters you're going to fight and the - the dungeon, which is the environment. so if you read it, you'll know everything about what is coming which, it's just not going to be as much fun because you won't be surprised. but also, um, eddie? he might not be running one of those adventures.'

'what do you mean?'

'he might, you know. make up his own. but those adventures, they're a good back up if he's busy and doesn't have time to prepare something.'

she nods.

he nods. folds his arms across his chest, tucking his hands under his pits. unfolds himself because he forgot about the lollipop in his hands and he shoves that into his back pocket before folding himself up again. it's the kind of stance you develop after shooting up six inches over a summer but gaining exactly zero friends, so the height only makes you a target and you learn quickly to keep it down.

'do you - have a character?' he asks when the silence stretches on uncomfortably.

'guinevere. she's a ranger.'

'oh cool. rangers are cool. um.' another quick glance for a friend but, seeing that no one is around, or needs him, he offers, 'do you want me to get some of the extra books for you? they're in dustin's attic - he stored them when i- when we left.'

robin grins. it must come off a little maniacal because he rocks back on his heels but he doesn't get far. she sets her hand on his shoulder and looks him square in the eyes.

'yes, william, i do. i need rules. i need to learn them and commit them to memory and crush steve with them.'

he looks a little shocked at being touched but then her words hit him and he laughs, loud, and uncurls. presses up into her hand like a cat. eyes bright, smile lingering, he asks,

'have you played yet at all? or is this all set-up still?' gesturing to the messy table in the dining room.

'we've played two sessions so far. but the set-up, the set-up took forever. does it always take that long? and i'm still trying to remember all my abilities.'

'no. i mean, it depends. the remembering is hard, especially later when you get more stuff, that's why the sheet is good - and so important to write everything down so you don't overlook it - but the - the set up, yeah. it depends. since it's your first time,' he explains as they wander through the house to the attic hatch, where he grabs the rope without needing a chair or foot stool or anything, 'you have to learn all the main rules first so that can be hard. especially if you're coming into it without reading a lot of fantasy or playing other games like that. but when you start playing, it's more fun. still takes ages, but fun.'

robin nods. they hadn't left the town where eddie had them start, and steve had accidentally insulted some random person on the street which meant that they had to run away or start a brawl, and nancy was surprisingly fixated on plants, but she could see how it would be fun.

'you're really selling me on it, kid,' she says, and quirks a smile when he looks nervous, like he might have scared her away. 'what's it like in california?'

will grunts, yanks down the hatch and the ladder. 'sunny,' he says, and climbs up.

that startles a laugh from her. 'sounds nice.' he pauses at the top of the ladder. 'something wrong?'

'no. it's just,' he hesitates.

robin peers up past him and sees the problem. from the inside of her jacket, she pulls a small, powerful torch and knocks it gently against his ankle, passing it up wordlessly. he clicks it on and sighs with relief before scuttling up into the space. after a moment, there's a dragging sound and then he calls down,

'watch out!'

he drops a box to the floor; it kicks up a cloud of dust and robin sneezes, backing up. eyes watering, she sneezes again. will hurried down the ladder and crouches next to the box, pulling through the neatly arranged contents. when he stands, he has four books in his hands and he looks almost apologetic as he holds them out.

'i know it looks like a lot, but -'

'you're a miracle child.' she grabs them eagerly. 'which one first? is there an order, or is it all -'

will, who gets the honour of her remembering his name because she's gonna keep him, huddles into her side so he can take one of the books and hold it open for her. he flips eagerly through what he calls "the beginner's handbook" even though it clocks in at a hundred plus pages. he's a fount of information and, she notes with interest, doesn't stumble over his words or hesitate while he's talking about the game. robin settles in to listen, slings an arm over his shoulder.

'and you said you're a ranger?'

'yeah. beast master.'

'oh that's sick,' he enthuses. 'have you chosen your beast? because there's some really cool options—here, check out this one, this is the monster manual. it has to be a beast type, obviously, but it's cool to look at the monsters too. they don't have many aberrations,' he says with an apologetic tilt, 'so i tend to design those myself—'

'wait, you can do that?'

'yeah. i like drawing and dungeons and dragons so...' he ruffles his bangs, ducks his head.

'that's really cool, will.'

even with his head dropped to hide his face, he's tall enough that she can just make out a pleased smile anyway. 'thanks. i didn't do it heaps. mostly i drew our characters.' he peeks up at her. 'i can - draw your character. if you want?'

'really?'

'yeah, totally.'

'that would be awesome, yeah!'

'okay!' he gathers the books and shoves the crate to the side of the hall, for steve to hoist into the attic again later. they head to the table where will helps himself to her character sheet and flips through it with a keen eye, nodding occasionally. 'this is nicely balanced for a first character,' he says when he's done.

'well, nancy and eddie helped.'

'oh nancy is playing?' will smiles. 'she played with us once.' he bites his lip, glances about.

'she's not here,' robin assures him, grinning. 'she's scary, huh?'

he nods enthusiastically. his eyes are bright, delighted. 'brutal.' then, 'um. is it okay if i draw in your notebook?'

'go for it.' robin pops up to sit on the table, facing him, and kicks her feet as she flips through the beast book he gave her. she's finally settled on a hyena when he puts down his pencil and hands back the page, which has a female archer sketched out on it. she looks more handsome than pretty, with short hair and a cap like robin hood, and for something that only took him a few minutes, the sketch is really, really good. she tells him as much and he turns away, turns his big smile to the wall.

'WILL!' steve's kid bellows from the door. 'WE'RE LEAVING!'

'oh, uh.' will jumps up, starts toward his friend. after a second, he rushes back, wraps his hands around the back of the chair he had been sitting in. drums his fingers against the wood. 'it was, uh, nice to meet you,' he says, and sticks out a hand.

she takes it. shakes firmly, once. 'see you round, william.'

he pulls away, hurries to the door. turns at the last second to wave, a tiny awkward wave low to his hip, and runs out to join his friends. it's a half second later that steve sidles over and drops an elbow hard on her shoulder, props himself up at her side.

'well, well, well. look who went and adopted a kid.'

'shut up, steve.'

'if it isn't miss your-dumb-kids-are-here who now has a dumb kid of her own.'

'my kid is an artist.'

'yeah, well, mine is a genius!'

'mine doesn't yell.'

steve concedes that point with a grimace. 'my kid trained a demodog.'

'the thing that nearly killed you?'

'that's so not the point, robin. geez. it was totally cool, obviously.'

'right. well my kid - okay, so i don't know that much about him,' she admits, forfeiting the bragging match. 'but i like him. he's cool.'

steve looks at the slammed door (courtesy of his kid) with a thoughtful look on his face. 'do you think...' he glances around to make sure there's no one near enough to hear them. even so, he lowers his voice. 'obviously, this is just a rumour but...people thought that he was kind of...'

robin waits, brows raised. he pauses.

'well. that he might be, you know.'

'and?'

'i'm not saying it's a bad thing,' he says, sounding exasperated. 'come on, give me some credit here. i'm just wondering if that's, like, why you like him.'

robin considers the question seriously, leans her weight against him until he swears and has to adjust his footing to hold her up. 'maybe,' she admits. 'it's like that movie we watched.'

'blade runner?'

'no. but i knew you liked that one.'

'it was fine,' he denies. 'E.T.?'

'no, steve,'

'we work in a video store, robin, we have watched a lot of movies. rocky. rocky two. rocky three.'

'you made me watch those.'

'and you're welcome.'

'i was going to say breakfast club. how they were all, woo, we're a group now.'

steve laughs. 'now i'm not sure you even watched it.'

'i did, i was just focused on the important parts. the chick who looked worse after her makeover,' she elaborates.

'oh interesting. not claire?'

she shrugs. 'anyway, it doesn't matter. my point is that people like us have to stick together—'

'people like -' he lifts his brows meaningfully. 'or people like...what?'

'weird people, steve. people who - who fight monsters and can't tell anyone. or who talk too much, or don't fit in for whatever reason. and yes, people like,' she lifts her brows right back at him. 'you've never had to deal with being weird but it sucks. especially in high school. i found marching band and that was literally my haven because kids aren't nice to anyone who is different.' she jumps down off the table, that sharp hot fierce angry feeling boiling in her again, and starts to pace. 'and life is hard, steve, it's really hard, when you have to avoid people who want to enforce the status quo when you can't do it, when you've tried to be normal because you'd really like to stop being bullied but it's no use because no matter what you do, it doesn't work. but you can have a place where that doesn't happen and it's so much more important because of what's going on outside and these kids had hellfire and now they don't even have that officially so they have to have each other and we have to have them!'

when she stops, panting, and swivels to look at him, steve is looking at her with that wide-eyed, dopey, totally fond look he gets when she's been rambling about something he already agreed with but didn't feel like stopping her. he pulls her into a hug and she collapses into it, grips the back of his shirt tight and buries her face into his shoulder. a few deep breaths gets the rest of the prickly anger out of her system.

he pats her back and says, voice warm and low, rumbling in his chest, 'yeah. we've got them.'

'good.' she sniffles. 'get off me.'

'make m—' he gets out before doubling over, wheezing, as she jabs two knuckles into his solar plexus. 'ouch, robin.'

#tagging my stories #prompt fill #st tag #3blts #sometimes a dnd table is three bisexuals and a lesbian & that’s valid #i will have more nancy robin at some point n eddie steve but i just wanted to write this thing first

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peakdeer · 2 years

Text

Emptober Day 3 - Novel

Pix sipped his tea quietly as he waited for the members of his little book club to arrive. He’d never thought that this would go well, but somehow they’d made it to seven meetings without any huge catastrophes, so that was a win in his book. Of course, that involved careful selectiveness, avoiding those most likely to start a war. Unfortunately, that meant Fwhip and Joey would not be coming to these meetings. They’d probably only come to cause chaos anyway; he doubted that they were even the slightest bit interested in reading. The ladies were out of the question; they already had their own book club that they attended, which seemed to be much more successful than his own. He’d been iffying inviting Sausage, as the man was well-know for his impulsiveness and harassment of the other members, or more specifically, Jimmy. It didn’t seem he’d enjoy reading either, but Pix had been pleasantly surprised when he was proven wrong. Sausage did spend a good amount of time teasing Jimmy, but it had never caused the meeting to devolve into chaos. Yet.

Scott arrived first, of course. The elf was never anything less than punctual, no matter what the appointment was for. Scott would likely show up early to attend his own beheading ceremony. It was always unnerving to see how stone-cold Scott’s face could be when he was entering a room, but Pix had gotten used to it by now. At least his face would relax enough to make him look alive after the conversation started.

For reasons he would never understand, Sausage always came next. He wasn’t sure why, if Sausage viewed this meeting highly enough to put time out of his day to arrive, which even Jimmy didn’t do. He’d even arrived before Scott one day, in which Pix began to seriously wonder if he was still being possessed. Perhaps he arrived second only for bragging rights. That would fit him. Sausage’s eyes shrunk into slits when he smelled the pastries and tea Pix had prepared, leaning forward almost imperceptibly to stare at them without blinking. If there was anything Pix could appreciate about Sausage, it was his culinary expertise. One of these days, he would bribe Sausage into cooking pastries for them. One day.

The members of the book club, minus Sausage of course, watched the doors to see who would come next. Joel and Jimmy often came interchangeably. Jimmy usually arrived first, unless he was late, or there was something he needed to attend to, or an emergency came up, or his elytra broke, which happened often. Joel didn’t give a wick about the club and often came late or halfway through. He always did come though, oddly enough.

Today, Jimmy arrived first. He slid to a stop a few steps from the doors, leaning down and putting his hands on his knees. He panted loudly, head dropped down as he regained his breath. The room stirred to life as they greeted Jimmy, joking about his exhausted appearance. Jimmy shot them an embarrassed grin, sliding into his seat and snatching a pastry. Almost instantly, Sausage reached forward and snagged two of them, staring hard at the others as if daring them to say anything. Pix simply laughed, pouring the tea and snatching glances at the door, waiting for Joel’s appearance. It didn’t take long, the man stormed in a few minutes later and hooked a pastry. Pix handed him his teacup, chuckling slightly as Joel downed the cup and handed it back to him to refill.

They were silent for a few minutes, sipping at their tea and eating their pastries. It was almost comical to watch, as all of them had decided from the first day to drink their tea in the most stereotypical noble way ever, gripping the handle just right and sticking their pinky out at the perfect angle. Jimmy, bless his heart, could never get it quite correct, but he tried. Joel stuck his pinky out with an enormous amount of disdain, as if insulting them all with his eyes. Scott, of course, did it perfectly, as was expected for the snooty elf. Perhaps Sausage had the funniest way of doing it, holding his plate just underneath his cup and lifting the cup up to drink. He kept a perfectly impassive look on his face the entire time, as if he was posing for a portrait. It almost tempted him to laugh every time he glanced at Sausage.

Jimmy, as usual, was the first to speak. “I really liked today’s book! For a mythological history novel, it was actually pretty good! The vampire killing the angel and corrupting it into a wither to join it in its attempt to conquer the world with shadows? Absolutely riveting.” Jimmy’s count for impressive words that he used for the meetings just to pretend he was supremely intelligent went up by one, Pix made a note. He was betting Jimmy would get at least three words in during this meeting. “And the shadow spirit getting kicked out for not being evil enough, not accepted by the creatures of the light for being a shadow, but not accepted by the creatures of the night for being kind? Heart-wrenching. An absolutely atrocious thing to do on their part.” There was another one. Make that two.

“Lovely. I’m glad you enjoyed it. Joel?” Pix’s eyes slid to the Mezalean king, and his fellow members watched him shrink into his chair with no small amount of glee.

“I don’t know how to blummin’ read, stop shoving it in my face,” Joel grumbled, crossing his arms and glaring at the table.

“How utterly relatable, not knowing how to read while being in a literal book club,” Pix commented, taking a sip of his tea.

“Oh, you—you sent me the invitation here, and you knew I didn’t know how to read! That’s just barbaric if’ya ask me,” Joel shot back.

Pix chuckled, rolling his eyes at the shorter man. “I expected you to learn quicker. Scott?” Pix ignored Joel’s protests, waiting attentively for Scott’s opinion.

“Kinda gay, if you ask me.” Scott replied immediately, as If he’d been waiting this entire time to say it. “Killing an angel in his church? Biting his neck to suck his blood? Cutting off his wings and making them your trophy? Corrupting him and recruiting him to his team to commit gay crimes? Please, there’s no way that’s straight.”

Sausage snorted derisively, raising his teacup in an attempt to cover his laugh. Jimmy and Joel didn’t even bother hiding their laughter, bursting into boisterous snickering. Pix himself squelched the grin creeping at the corners of his mouth, trying to make his face impassive. “That’s an interesting take to have, Scott. Perhaps we should devote a meeting to that sometime. Perhaps ‘The Inherent Homoeroticism of Killing your Enemies’ would be a good title.”

Scott burst into laughter at that, leaning back in his chair, his calm facade forgotten. “Absolutely. I’d show up early for that one. I don’t think even Joel would be late, and he’s straight.”

They all burst into domestic chatter, joking and teasing and talking about anything that crossed their minds. If you hadn’t know better, and if their elaborate clothes hadn’t tipped you off, you’d assume they were just any random group of friends.

Pix smiled contentedly, a warm glow filling his chest. He hadn’t expected this book club to work, but it was nice to be proven wrong sometimes. He quite enjoyed interacting with the other rulers, listening to their ideas and joining in with their shenanigans.

It was a novel feeling, really, to have exchanges where nothing was expected of you. Where you could just be.

He quite liked it.

#empires smp #emptober #pixlriffs #scott smajor #mythicalsausage #jimmy solidarity #joel smallishbeans

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xc23 · 10 months

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Tuesday

We got rain overnight. Fortunately it wasn’t a drenching rain. It brought the temperature down a bit and we both slept comfortably.

Nature got us both up with sunrise. A variety of warblers sang us awake. Camp breakfast consisted of eggs and sausage in a tortilla, fresh fruit, and coffee/tea. Quick cleanup and we were off to see Old Man Cave.

On our way to… you guessed it!

Hocking Hills State Park draws over 3 million visitors each year. On a summer Saturday, hiking the trails is more like waiting for a ride at Disney. On Diane’s suggestion, we were on the Old Man Cave trail by 8:30am this morning. We were virtually alone in the park. As a result, we got some nice pictures. You’ll see that it wad like being in a rainforest (in a good way).

The iconic Upper Falls.

Devil’s Bathtub.

At 10am we joined a naturalist-led tour to lead more about what we just saw. The Park has two focuses when doing these tours, teach about the natural surroundings and teach about the positive impact of the CCC (Civilian Conservation Corps).

CCC carved tunnel to Old Man’s Cave.

From a geology perspective, Hocking Hills is built on layers of hard and soft sandstone. Wind and water have eroded the soft layers in between. The result is the caves and gorges that we see today.

Old Man’s Cave.

The highlights of the park are its caves, gorges, waterfalls, and hundreds-years-old hemlock trees. We saw crews who are vaccinating the trees against a catastrophic blight.

Hemlocks & lichen.

Regarding the CCC, they built the trails, walks, rock bridges, and cut in the stairs throughout the Park.

CCC work.

We found our way to the Hocking Hills Lodge just as the afternoon rain started. The lodge, which is relatively new and modern, was without power due to a modest wind storm. Regardless, we ate what was available from the kitchen (soup & salad) and waited out the rain.

The new HH Lodge. The old one burned to the ground in the 90’s.

We walked the two miles back to camp just in time for the rain to pick up again. This gave us a reason to drive out of the park to a coffee shop for something warm to drink. By dinner, the rain had stopping and we able to eat back at camp.

Again, we were back in our tent before the sun went down and we read ourselves to sleep.

Diane and I in Whispering Cave…

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bepisdrink · 1 year

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hmm I either just had the best and most convincing gluten free sausage roll in the world or there is about to be a Catastrophic Intestinal Incident

#only time will tell #coeliac posting #narn.txt

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andiinaraethtash · 2 years

Text

Chapter 6: Call Me a Casualty (The Cost of Catastrophe)

Notes:

This is the section I have not-so-affectionately nicknamed the Black Funeral (no that is not a reference to the Red Wedding, I don't ever intend to watch or support GoT, it's just a fitting name). TW: character death. Lots and lots of character death. None of it is permanent, but it is there, and it is a bit... graphic? Almost? There's no blood or anything discussed, but it's still described in detail, so be wary if that triggers you.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

~~~~~~~~~

Sausage has finished with the new obsidian-coated pit in Scott’s home and is waiting on a cliff overlooking Rivendell when fWhip arrives. He hears him before he sees him, the rockets firing off cluing him in to his arrival, but no sooner has he seen him than he lands, clumsily, with tears streaming down his face.

“What happened, what’s wrong?” Sausage immediately demands, fear wrapping its icy hands around his heart.

fWhip opens his mouth, closes it, then shakes his head. “Gem…” he whispers, and Sausage immediately knows.

“No…”

fWhip looks away.

Sausage shakes his head. “No, she can’t… she was just…”

Beside him, fWhip tenses, straightening, and glares in the direction of Rivendell. “That elf is going to pay for what he did,” he growls in a voice that would scare him if he weren’t so distracted by his shock and grief.

Reaching out, he sets a hand on fWhip’s shoulder. “If there’s anything I can do to help, lemme know, okay? I… I don’t want you to be alone.”

fWhip shakes him off. “There’s nothing. I just…”

Sausage nods, looking down at his boots. This day couldn’t get any worse, could it?

“Actually, do me a favour,” He says suddenly, and Sausage looks up—just in time to be met with a sword to the gut.

He gapes at fWhip, taking in the glowing red eyes, the savage grin on his face, and the way red and black lines are starting to creep through the veins in his neck, and he knows.

“Die for me,” Xornoth hisses with fWhip’s voice, twisting the blade in further, and Sausage scrambles to hold on to his friend as the blade is pulled out of his gut, but it’s no use. Xornoth steps back, and Sausage, unable to get his feet to move forward, finds himself falling from the cliff, down to the rocks below.

_______

Pix knows the moment it happens, Sausage falling from a high place, trying to escape… someone. Exactly who it is is obscured, but the suddenness of it has him pulling up short in shock—a bad thing to do when one is flying above the ocean. He manages to angle himself toward the Prisma Palace, landing to recover his breath.

That’s the second death of someone in the Wither Rose Alliance today, even if he strongly suspects that something is wrong with Gem’s death—he hadn’t know about it the way he had every other death.

But there had been no faking the grief in Pearl’s eyes when she had told him, so while he wants to verify it, he also is severely doubting the validness of his foresight. If he can’t see when someone is about to die—especially permanently—then what exactly is it good for?

Still, the suspicious circumstances of both deaths have him worried for Pearl’s and fWhip’s safety. Something or someone is picking them off one by one, and he hopes to high heaven it’s not who he thinks it might be. If it has to be one or the other, though, he’s not sure whether he hopes it’s Xornoth, somehow escaped again, or Scott, gone off the rails.

A sound behind him, and he turns to see Lizzie emerging from the bubble elevator leading up from the base of the main tower. “Hey, Pix, what’s going on?”

Pix swallows hard around the lump in his throat. “Pearl hasn’t been by yet, has she.”

“No, why? Has something happened?”

He nods. “Gem is dead.”

Lizzie recoils. “What?”

“She’s gone, Lizzie. Scott’s ice magic hit her, and the cold consumed her.”

She shakes her head, growing steadily paler. “No, no, that’s not… he would never.”

“We strongly suspect it was an accident,” Pix says, even though he knows Sausage’s death certainly wasn’t. “Scott’s ice magic is hard for him to control, apparently, and he went to Gem for help. She got caught in the crossfire.”

She seems to latch on to one word in particular from that explanation. “‘Apparently?’”

He shrugs helplessly. “Scott’s MIA. According to fWhip, he’s not in Rivendell, and while I know he’s still alive…”

“You’ve got nothing else.”

“Exactly.” There’s a brief pause, then Pix sighs. “You should go tell Joel. We’re all gathering in the Grimlands to pay our respects; I don’t think either of you will want to miss this last opportunity.” Lizzie glumly shakes her head, and Pix reaches out to touch her arm. “We’ll all miss her.”

“It’s not just that, it’s that I only saw her a few days ago, and she was fine. How could this have happened so quickly? Everything was fine for so long, and now… now it’s all gone to hell again.”

He nods. That’s an accurate way of describing it. Giving her arm one last pat, he turns and takes off, headed toward the Grimlands.

________

Shrub gets there first. The villagers of Eastvale point her toward the mansion, where, sure enough, fWhip is sitting on the doorstep, staring down at his hands like they were the ones to kill Gem. She knows he’s got to be in shock, but she’s still surprised to see that he’s not crying. Not right now, anyway; his eyes are red and puffy, indicating that he probably was at one point.

He doesn’t seem to notice her until she puts her hand on his shoulder, and when he looks up to see her standing next to him, a mask drops over his face. Not a physical one, just an expression of solemn resolve. He’s hiding it from her, his grief, and that hurts more than it should.

She sits down on his right without saying a word, and leans against him. He stiffens slightly, and she wonders if she’s overstepping, but then, ever so slowly, he relaxes before his mask breaks and he sobs.

“It’s not fair,” he whispers, and she grabs his hand.

“I know. Death never is.”

fWhip swallows audibly before asking, “Is this how it was for her, when I died?” Shrub hesitates, then nods, and he squeezes his eyes shut. “It’s not fair.” He says again, and she squeezes his hand.

“We’re all going to miss her.” What else can she say? She knows grief like this, a grief that can’t be put into words, and she knows empty platitudes are just that: empty. There’s nothing she can say that will ease the pain in his heart.

Slowly, slowly, the others start arriving, all in various stages of grief. Joey is the least effected, and even he looks like he’s cried a little bit, though how much of that is for show and how much is genuine, she doesn’t know.

fWhip stands as Katherine and Pearl, along with Jimmy, finally arrive, though he gives Katherine a look that she doesn’t understand, before ushering them all inside.

“There’s refreshments if you want them,” he says dully. “I know a lot of you traveled a ways to come, and that means more to me than you’ll ever know.”

It’s Pearl who asks, “Where’s Sausage?” and fWhip shakes his head.

“He went after Scott.”

Pix straightens. “He must have found him. He was killed not too long ago.”

Immediately, fWhip looks up, alarmed. “Is he going to be okay?”

The Copper King nods. “He’ll be fine, I just worry that he’ll do something stupid like go after Scott alone again.”

“Woah, woah,” Shrub says. “I thought we agreed that this was an accident. I don’t see Scott killing either of them out of malice. That just isn’t like him.”

“We can’t deny the facts, though,” Joel puts in. “Gem is dead, killed by ice magic. Sausage went after Scott and now he’s been killed. This all points in a direction I don’t think many of us like.”

Jimmy shakes his head. “No, Shrub’s right, this isn’t like Scott.”

“Guys,” fWhip interrupts, “can we… not talk about this? We’re here because Gem’s gone. Not because of who killed her. We can discuss that at a later date.”

Sheepish nods all around, and Joel and Lizzie headed for the drinks set out on the table. fWhip picks up his own tankard and gestures for the others to grab drinks as well.

“A toast,” he says quietly. “To a friend, an ally, a good person, and a great wizard. My sister.”

Shrub, grabbing the smallest cup, lifts it at the same time as the others, and takes a drink.

Almost immediately there’s a sharp pain in her stomach, and she doubles over, groaning. Katherine is beside her in an instant.

“Are you okay?” She asks, but her voice sounds hoarse, and she’s flushed.

Across the room, Lizzie coughs, gags, then vomits, and Joey collapses, convulsing. Joel is starting to sweat, and Jimmy is clawing at his throat like he’s being choked. Meanwhile, Pix is stumbling, trying to keep his feet under him, while Pearl is foaming at the mouth and swaying like she can’t keep her balance.

On top of the dais that holds the two thrones, fWhip watches with a disinterested expression. He hasn’t touched his drink, she realises, like he knew what was in them.

Poison. He’s poisoned them. Why is beyond her, but that’s the only thing that makes sense.

The pain in her gut triples, and she collapses with a cry against Katherine, who starts coughing as she eases her to the ground. Shrub looks up at her, opening her mouth to tell her what she just realised, but stops short. Katherine’s lips are turning blue.

The sound of multiple bodies hitting the floor has her turning her attention to where Lizzie, Pix, and Pearl have all joined her and Joey on the floor. Whatever poison—poisons, if she has to guess—fWhip used, they’re acting fast. Before her eyes, Pearl stops moving, then her body disappears in a haze of light and smoke. She’s been killed.

fWhip tilts his head, finally moving and drawing every eye to him. He meanders over to where Joey is laying, his convulsions slowing, and nudges him onto his back with the tip of his boot.

“Pity,” he says, as Joey, too, stills and disappears. “I’d hoped at least one of these would work.” Bending down, he picks up the crown from where it dropped, dusts it off, and tucks it away. With a disdainful glance around, he goes over to Pix and kneels, grabbing the prophet’s chin and lifting the prophet’s gaze to meet his. “Tell me, oh great king, who all dies today?”

Pix opens his mouth to answer, chokes out a cry of pain, then slumps. A few seconds later, he’s gone as well, leaving Lizzie, Joel, Jimmy, and Katherine and Shrub alone with this madman wearing fWhip’s face.

As if sensing her thoughts, fWhip’s eyes—his deep red, glowing eyes—turn on her, and he strolls over, kicking Jimmy’s leg and making him choke one last time before he’s disappeared.

“You, little gnome, have been a thorn in my side for far too long. But don’t worry, I’ll make sure you join your people soon.”

Katherine is starting to pull her away from him, trying to hide her behind her, but she’s moving too slow, and it’s very obvious she’s not able to breathe. So instead she ends up draping her body over Shrub’s, wheezing all the while.

Shrub herself is struggling not to scream for the pain that is throbbing in her stomach in time with her—admittedly very rapid—heartbeat. fWhip is watching her with those red eyes, so like the deepslate corruption he’s so fond of. Has that, combined with the loss of his sister, finally pushed him over the edge? She doesn’t know.

She tries for a glare anyway, and fWhip laughs, a deep, gravelly sound she feels in her bones. It’s not right, none of this is right—

Katherine disappears from on top of her, vanished in a now-familiar bright haze, and she’s left to scramble away as fWhip comes forward, taking her by the jaw with one hand—a hand she can feel something wrong with, something hot and solid and decidedly not meant to be there—before sliding the other behind the nape of her neck as gently as a lover would.

Then he twists, and for a split second pain lances through her broken neck before she, too, is gone.

~~~~~~~~~

Notes:

Why yes, the demon's "die for me" line was a reference to the most badass line from Last Life, thank you for asking :D Also, no update this weekend either, I'm going out of town. Again. I hate May, everyone's graduating, including family members I don't care about and friends I do. Oh, well. At least there will be food (hopefully not poisoned).

#empiresblr #empires smp #creative writing #fanfiction #tw: temporary character death #chapter six

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themurphyzone · 2 years

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PatB: ‘Til the Last Petal Falls Ch 11

AN: Ok after a lighthearted romp in the snow fanfiction rules dictate that I must follow it up with something super angsty so MWAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAH

AO3 Link

Ch 11: The Nightmare

It had been several weeks since their first venture in the snow together. They’d expanded into several other winter-based activities since then, building all sorts of snow creatures, trying to make snow angels, ice skating…

Well, the Beast tried to forget his own clumsy attempt at ice skating. Pinky was a natural, sliding along the ice and pulling off jumps and other tricks with ease. After his first (and last) attempt to join Pinky in the middle of the frozen pond, he found he was more content to watch Pinky from the shore than risk the humiliation of constantly slipping like an infant who was learning to walk.

They’d spent the entire afternoon trying to make a snow castle outside. Though the final creation was nothing more than a giant pile of shapeless snow, Pinky’s imagination had truly made it seem like it was a magnificent castle in a winter fairy kingdom.

Now the sun had set, and the pair had just finished a dinner of sausages and cheese souffle. Their dessert plates were long cleared away by the serving staff, though neither of them were in a hurry to move, courtesy of their full stomachs.

“Flavio really outdid himself this time!” Pinky said. He put a hand over his mouth and let out a tiny belch of satisfaction.

“You say that after every meal,” the Beast replied. He tried to recline in his seat, but it was difficult to find a good position when his horns kept bumping into the wood.

But he couldn’t disagree. There was no such thing as a bad dish when it was cooked by Flavio.

Pinky leaned forward, his eyes flickering with interest.

“I’ve told you a lot about me,” Pinky admitted. “But I don’t really know much about you.”

While it was a true statement, Pinky’s spontaneous nature had once again caught the Beast off guard.

The Beast’s claws dug into the table, wood shavings falling to the floor.

You don’t need to know. It’s for the best, the Beast thought bitterly.

“Drop the subject at once, Pinky. There’s nothing important you need to know,” the Beast growled.

Don’t reveal anything personal unless it’s absolutely necessary. No matter how small, information in the wrong hands could be catastrophic.

That fact had been hammered down as a hard truth, time and time again. Though it served as a caution when running an entire kingdom, it was just as applicable to the curse.

Telling Pinky he had to fall in love with a monster would scare him off for good, and it was a risk the Beast refused to take when he was living on borrowed time.

And he most certainly couldn’t tell Pinky about his former identity. Pinky would laugh at him. Imagine that, a genius losing his intelligence until he finally became an instinct-driven creature fueled by nothing more than rage and fear. Being smart was one of the few things he’d been good at, the cornerstone of his identity in a life so far removed from this current reality.

Pinky frowned. “It doesn’t have to be anything big! You can just start with your favorite color, or-”

“Forget it!” the Beast snarled. “You don’t think I know your agenda? You’re just warming up with the unimportant things before you start asking the questions you actually want answers to!”

He'd seen this trick before. Too many times, he'd witnessed the nobility sidle up to someone, make small talk in the garden or parlor, pretend to be interested, then strike the moment an opportunity arose.

Pinky folded his arms, his eyes blazing. “I don’t have a gender-a! I just wanna know more about you!”

“There’s nothing worth knowing about me!” the Beast growled.

“Well, maybe if you weren’t so closed off all the time, you’d-”

This conversation was over. With a snarl of frustration to shut Pinky’s retorts down, he leapt down to the floor and stalked out of the dining room. He ignored the bewildered looks from the servants, some of whom were likely eavesdropping into the argument when they were supposed to be working.

He slammed the door to the West Wing, and the entire room shuddered at the force.

A wrinkled petal broke off the rose, joining its dead brethren on the table.

And all the progress he thought he’d made was gone.

o-o-o-o-o

He awoke to a starless, moonless night above him. Strange. The West Wing didn’t have an open roof. He'd stormed off to sleep alone after…after he'd yelled at Pinky.

For just trying to get to know him.

He shouldn't have yelled or accused him of any tricks. It was entirely unwarranted, he knew.

The questions would start out trivial, if somewhat annoying, but there were some answers he could give without giving away anything too personal.

But then Pinky might start asking for the Beast's entire life story, where he was born, his parents, and the Beast had not prepared counters against those questions.

He couldn't give any of those details without first revealing that he was a prince.

A dignified prince transformed into a feral monster.

How was he supposed to confess that to Pinky?

Oh by the way, I'm actually a cursed prince who dragged all his innocent servants into a punishment they never deserved and the only way to break the enchantment is for you to fall in love with me before the rose loses all its petals.

Yeah, he was sure that would go over well.

But even though he couldn't exactly say that to Pinky, he realized that he couldn't exactly blame Pinky for being curious about him. After all, he'd been curious about Pinky too.

He suppressed the part of him that insisted Pinky should apologize first for being nosy.

It wasn't easy to swallow what little remained of his pride, but maybe he at least owed Pinky an explanation.

And…an apology.

He tried to stand up as he mentally prepared himself for that conversation, only to tumble to the ground. That was…strange. He’d been doing better as a bipedal lately, occasionally switching to a more quadrupedal stance if he needed to move faster because Pinky often ran circles around him.

He pushed himself up again, only for the palms of his hands to slam down on crumbled stone scattered on the savaged, threadbare carpet.

What happened? He couldn’t stand at all?

And where was all this stone coming from?

Pebbles and dust rained down just ahead of him, and he gasped at the enormous hole in the ceiling, which only grew bigger with every passing second. Cracks splintered the stone walls, a terrible rumbling sound filling his ears. Outside, the entire balcony broke off and fell into the deep abyss below. And the floor around it was starting to follow.

The entire West Wing was about to crumble!

He was halfway out the door when he suddenly remembered the rose. He couldn’t afford to let it be destroyed!

With a clumsy attempt at a turn, he rushed towards the table where the rose and the mirror laid. Half the room was buried in rubble now. He could only save one object, not both.

In the end, it wasn’t a tough choice to make. The rose was his priority. Quickly lifting the glass dome, he snatched up the rose and held it to his chest as he hurried out of the West Wing on three limbs. He heard the cracking of glass behind him as a stone crushed the mirror several seconds after he took the rose.

The West Wing doors slammed shut behind him, nearly clipping his tail as he fled into the hallway. The cracking and rumbling of falling stone filled the air, until there was one final, mighty crash.

And all was silent.

He sighed in relief, though he didn’t dare go back to the West Wing when the entire room was lost.

Now he just had to find a new hiding place for the ro-

A crushed petal slipped from his fist, lifelessly falling to the ground.

“No,” the Beast whispered, staring at the blood-red petal in horror. His hand trembled, half of another crushed petal joining the first. “NO!”

He recoiled as sharp thorns pricked his hand, yet the physical pain was incomparable to the agony of seeing the dead and withered rose before him as he opened his hand.

In his hasty escape, he had grabbed the enchanted rose by the bloom rather than the stem. The rose had lost its mysterious glow, and was nothing more than a crushed flower in a monster’s grasp. And once again, a single act of carelessness had cost him everything.

Now there was truly no hope of escape. No way to regain his crown, his throne, or his kingdom.

The curse was permanent.

He was forever condemned to live as a beast, and his servants were…oh god, his servants….

Where were they? The castle had fallen deathly silent. Where were the protests of the Warners as Scratchy attempted to assign them chores? Or the sight of Mindy venturing somewhere she shouldn’t, followed closely by Buttons? The smells of delicious food from Flavio, or the rustling of fabric from Marita?

The rose forgotten, he hurried down the hallway, his heart racing as his paws slammed against the stone floors.

The numerous gargoyles were nothing more than rubble, beaks and wings and horns crumbling to dust and ash. Though the Beast was above silly superstition, even he couldn't help but feel exposed and unprotected at the loss of the castle guardians. Even the mightiest and largest of the guardians, a gargoyle aptly and affectionately named Goliath, was nothing more than a pile of broken, lifeless rocks.

Among the remains of the gargoyles was a large pile of gray and white feathers, covered with dust. The Beast stared down at the pile, hesitantly brushing the feathers aside to reveal three pieces of splintered wood.

The broken beaks…the lifeless winglike appendages…

These were…

Heart pounding, the Beast turned away from the mess and hurried down the hallway, desperate for any sign of life.

He’d never been close to the Goodfeathers, for they were just a trio of unlucky pigeons who happened to be roosting on the castle when the curse was cast and weren’t officially his servants like the others were.

But he didn’t wish this fate on them, nor anybody else.

Tapestries fell from the walls, paintings cracked in half. Noble, armored knights rusted and decayed, their weapons dulled from time and disuse.

The destruction kept pace with him. It didn’t matter which way he turned or how hard he tried to outrun it. The roof continued to cave in, holes appearing along the floor wherever he placed his paws.

In the parlor, two broken footstools laid side by side. One was keeled over completely, numerous tassels strewn around the legs. A Christmas ornament and a porcelain doll had fallen next to them. Their dresses were torn and ripped, the halo missing from the ornament while the doll’s delicate skin was chipped off. The doll was missing an eye, but her remaining one bored through the Beast like a dagger.

Rita was silenced. Runt was far too still. Buttons could no longer protect Mindy’s fragile body from harm.

A cold wind blew through what remained of the fireplace, extinguishing the tiny flame that tried to burn in vain.

The Beast quickly fled, though he couldn’t banish that blank, accusatory glare from his mind.

The destruction of the castle was more severe in this area. Entire walls had been stripped away, the very foundation falling into the abyss below. Several chipped buckets and brooms with their bristles half-missing tried to flee, but were swept in the wave of devastation and plunged into darkness, never to be seen again.

The Beast was too far away to save them, yet their screams echoed in his ears, the same way they’d done five years ago on the night the curse was cast.

He couldn't cry. Crying signaled weakness. It had been one of the first lessons ever drilled into his head, from a life that no longer belonged to him.

His vision blurred, legs shaking as he rushed through the castle in desperation for someone to save. And even then, his thoughts were all disappearing. All of them replaced by a basic, primal need for self-preservation.

Telling him to save himself, and leave everyone behind.

But he couldn't give into that urge.

Not when the castle desperately needed him to lead.

He tried not to think about how the only thing he'd led them to was complete ruination.

Priceless artifacts shattered. Precious metals rusted over. Nothing was safe. From the mightiest organ to the tiniest teaspoon, from the noblest knight to the youngest apprentice, and the fanciest wardrobe to the simplest needle, all would fall victim to the curse in the end.

And next to the library entrance laid a rusted candelabra, a golden sheen now faded to dull brown. And next to the candelabra was a small mantle clock with half its clock face missing, the pendulum broken. One of the arms hung at a crooked angle.

But the one in the worst shape was the floral patterned teacup, laying in tiny, shattered fragments on the floor.

All three were still together, even in their terrible fate. He couldn't envision them being separated at all.

Yakko, Wakko, and Dot, the ones who'd kept their hopes alive for all this time, were dead.

Numbly, he stared down at the lifeless bodies before him.

Lives shortened and wasted…because of him.

Who led the most worthless, meaningless life out of them all.

"Beast?"

And there stood Pinky, alive and miraculously unharmed. The Beast nearly moved towards him, relieved to see that someone had escaped the castle’s collapse.

Only to stop, for there was a fearful expression on Pinky’s face. His hands were close to his body, his ears pulled back.

Frozen in place like a deer, but ready to bolt at a moment’s notice.

Horrified, the Beast stepped back. He’d scared Pinky again. But there was no recovery from this.

Pinky had every right to be scared of a mindless beast who destroyed everything he ever touched. If he was smart, he’d flee for his own safety and never look back.

“Please wake up,” a shaky voice whispered. “You’re having a bad dream, Beast.”

But Pinky took a step forward, then another. He moved slowly, hands stretched out towards the Beast.

He didn’t understand. Not even a warning growl was enough to deter Pinky.

Stay away, the Beast wanted to say. But words failed him, and he could only make pitiful noises in a poor attempt at language. He couldn’t even warn Pinky to run before he was swept away in all the destruction.

Then a pair of arms wrapped around his torso, and he gasped and froze at the sudden touch.

A body pressed against him. Soft and warm, a gentle presence to counter his turmoil.

A hand reached up, brushing against his cheek with a featherlight touch.

Was this real? Or a dream born out of desperation?

Reality had never been this kind to him. Neither had his dreams. But the gentle pressure, the whispers of reassurance, this peaceful feeling as fingers threaded through his fur…maybe his subconscious was finally taking pity on him.

Maybe he was finally having a good dream to hold onto.

"Oh good, it's finally working," a female voice said in relief.

"Definitely, definitely working," another voice yipped.

There were more?

But…everyone was gone. The only ones left were himself and Pinky.

Right?

"Alright, looks like Pinky's got it. Back to the cupboard, you two. And remember that I call dibs on the top shelf!"

"You had the top shelf for the past three nights, Yakko! It's my turn!"

Yakko and Dot were alive? But where was…

"You guys never let me have the top shelf…"

Wakko!

But…he saw their inanimate remains, cold and lifeless on the floor.

Yet he heard their voices so clearly. Could it be possible that the horrible vision he had wasn’t real after all?

He didn’t know, but a soothing voice, one that was clearer and louder than the others and his own doubts and fears, broke through the fog his mind was trapped in.

“Everyone’s here, I promise. Just open your eyes, Beast.”

Promises were made to be broken. He should know that better than anyone, with his constant failures to break the curse on his own terms and never succeeding.

But he’d heard this very voice make a promise to heal him instead of leaving him at the mercy of the elements. Pinky hadn’t lied then, making good on his word.

So…he believed Pinky now.

The Beast opened his eyes, raising his head to get a better look at his surroundings. The castle wasn’t crumbling to rubble, the stone foundation still intact and whole. While dust and cobwebs weren’t ideal, it was still far better than the alternative.

The servants kept their distance, but they seemed relieved.

Pinky's hand slipped off the Beast's cheek, the gentle touch lingering behind. The sensation was strange. He was still trying to get used to Pinky's touch, even after several weeks of cohabitation.

It was difficult for him to fathom why Pinky would willingly do so. His parents, nor anyone else of similar standing, would express themselves so casually.

And the servants who freely gave their affection away were currently denied the pleasure of each other's warmth.

So what right did he have to this embrace? Why was he the only one who could actually feel physical touch when he never desired nor deserved these feel-good sensations in the first place?

The servants were still watching him. The Beast stepped away from Pinky with a growl of trepidation. He wasn’t in the mood to be scrutinized right now.

“So how are you doing? We were getting a bit worried,” Squit piped up, his tone way too cheerful for the current atmosphere.

“Worried?” Pesto scoffed, thrusting his wooden beak into Squit’s as he furiously flapped his featherlike appendages. “Are you saying I was worried about the jerk who woke me up just as I was gettin’ all cozy with this pretty lark on the palace of Versailles?”

“Well, I-” Squit’s protest was cut off by a furious bark from Buttons, who was somehow glaring (how he could glare without a face was unknown), at Pesto while herding Mindy away to a nearby room. With a wooden leg, Buttons made the universal I’ve-got-my-eye-on-you gesture and disappeared around the corner.

“Goodnight, everybody!” Yakko said, blowing a kiss. “And I mean it this time. Bonne nuit, buenas noches, guten abend-”

“Much as I love the impromptu language lesson, you might wanna stake your claim to the top shelf before Wakko and Dot steal it from you,” Rita interrupted.

Yakko’s smug grin vanished as he realized that his siblings had snuck off without him in an attempt to finally steal the top shelf for themselves. He quickly waved goodbye to Pinky, who returned the gesture and laughed when Yakko left a cloud of dust behind as he dashed off towards the kitchen.

One by one, the other servants returned to their sleeping areas now that the crisis was over, leaving him and Pinky alone in the hallway.

The Beast wished the servants had stuck around longer. Their familiar banter and camaraderie was occasionally a welcome reprieve to fill in the silence, before his thoughts became too much for him to bear.

He stared down at his clawed hands, embarrassment washing over him as he realized that he was still hunched over in a primal stance.

Pinky was watching.

The Beast looked away. If he couldn’t repress these feral instincts, then he could forget about breaking the curse. No sane person would ever select a partner like that.

“...I’m sorry,” the Beast rasped, his voice hoarse from disuse.

“It’s okay,” Pinky said, giving him a tiny, reassuring smile. But the Beast could see the worry in his eyes. “I know it must’ve been a really scary dream. Poit. Um…you wanna talk about it, or-”

The Beast stubbornly remained silent. Revealing the contents of his nightmare would force him to admit the origin of the curse.

That everything had fallen apart because he'd carelessly crushed the rose and-

The rose!

The Beast suddenly found it hard to breathe. He'd felt the sting of thorns in his hand, saw the soft, crimson petals fluttering to the floor.

Yet it stood to reason that if the castle was still intact and his servants were very much alive, then maybe there was a chance that he'd never destroyed the rose after all?

Only one way to be sure though.

"I…I have to go back to the West Wing at once," the Beast said, trying to keep his voice steady and failing miserably. He turned around, only making it halfway down the hall before looking over his shoulder at Pinky, who simply watched him with a worried expression.

“By yourself?” Pinky asked softly.

Well, yes. He was used to it by now.

There was a line between himself and the servants that could not be crossed. The class divide and their physical differences were far too great.

But ever since Pinky’s arrival, he started to wonder if the strict hierarchy that royalty and nobility enforced was truly right.

In hindsight, the caste system had left him lonelier than he cared to admit.

Maybe I don’t have to be though.

“It won’t take long,” the Beast said. “You can wait for me by Hugo. I…I don’t want to sleep in the West Wing tonight.”

Pinky’s ears and tail perked at the invitation, his sky-blue eyes lighting up once again.

How such a simple thing could make Pinky happy, he wasn’t sure. But he would gladly take the happiness over tears. He never knew what to do when Pinky cried.

Pinky caught up to the Beast, his hand stretched out towards him. The Beast hesitated, but at Pinky’s encouraging smile, he slowly enveloped Pinky’s hand with his own. Then Pinky hauled him to his feet with that unusual strength of his.

The Beast nearly toppled onto Pinky, not expecting the swift movement, but he quickly regained his footing.

Despite the Beast’s need to check on the rose, he didn’t feel a sense of urgency in doing so now that he was holding Pinky’s hand.

He’d experienced Pinky’s touch so often in these past few weeks, and it never failed to astound the Beast that their proximity never bothered him, who had all right to be afraid.

Pinky hummed a simple tune as they walked down the corridor hand-in-hand. The Beast felt every bounce to Pinky’s step, every motion of Pinky’s fingers within his paw. How Pinky could possibly trust him to not break his fingers was beyond him, but somehow endearing as well.

Maybe Pinky deserved to get some of his questions answered. Not the inquiries into the Beast’s past, but some of the more impersonal ones that didn’t require any emotional investment.

“...if you must know, my favorite color is purple,” the Beast said. Then he regretted it, wishing he could’ve had a better segue into talking about colors instead of blurting it out randomly. Still though, he wasn’t lying. Purple was a refined and elegant color in addition to the emblem of royalty. “What about you?”

“Mine’s yellow,” Pinky smiled. He accepted the topic without protest, much to the Beast’s relief.

Wait, really?

The Beast stared at him in surprise. “I thought you would say pink.”

“Narf! Well, I really love pink and the other colors too! But sunshine yellow is the happiest of them all!” Pinky exclaimed, his tail wagging from under his nightgown.

There was logic in Pinky favoring a bright color, given his cheerful nature.

“I should’ve called you Yellowy from the start,” the Beast huffed. Then he cringed internally, not realizing how terrible his poor attempt at a joke was until it slipped out.

To his surprise, Pinky laughed. It was loud and happy and bright, and the Beast could only stare in wonder at Pinky as the laughter made every inch of his body shake in pure joy.

I did that, the Beast’s thoughts soaring alongside his hopes for the curse to be lifted. I actually made somebody laugh.

He’d never done that before, and he drew satisfaction in such a simple accomplishment. Making Pinky laugh wasn’t a world-changing feat, but it felt much more important than any laws he could ever sign.

They reached the gargoyle-filled hall that led straight into the West Wing far sooner than the Beast would’ve liked, and Pinky ceased his laughter as they approached Hugo the gargoyle. A red ribbon fluttered from his horn, a tiny spider crawling around on his piggish snout.

The oppressive dread returned, forcefully reminding him of the rose’s existence. He needed Pinky’s love, not his laughter, to break the curse. It wasn’t enough.

It was a callous notion, especially after Pinky had kindly coaxed him out of the nightmare.

He just had to keep asking for more.

“Here we are,” Pinky whispered. “You’re going in?”

The Beast nodded. It was strangely difficult for him to release Pinky’s hand.

He almost asked Pinky to come inside the West Wing with him, just so he wouldn’t be alone in this task.

Almost.

It wasn’t that he completely distrusted Pinky.

But there were too many secrets hidden within the West Wing, and the Beast didn’t want Pinky to see them right now. No, he just wasn’t ready yet.

Time was not on his side.

But…he couldn’t. He just couldn’t.

The West Wing doors were wide open. He must’ve left them that way when he was in the stranglehold of his nightmare.

He debated closing them in case Pinky got the bright idea of peeking in, but he dismissed that thought instantly. Pinky wouldn’t break his promise not to go into the West Wing without express permission again. He wasn’t the lying type.

In the end, the Beast left the door halfway open. The rose wasn’t visible from the entrance, but he would rather give himself some privacy while assuring Pinky that he would come out again.

With that matter settled, he carefully stepped over the debris that littered the West Wing. He passed the slashed portrait, the ripped curtains, broken ceramics and splintered wood he’d destroyed in fits of rage.

He’d spent some time trying to clean up the mess, but he hadn’t even scratched the surface of the damages. Perhaps he could task a select group of servants to help speed up the process, but this felt like something he had to do for himself.

As derelict as the West Wing was, the roof hadn’t caved in, the balcony was attached, and the walls were sturdy.

But it wasn’t until he saw the enchanted rose intact that he was truly relieved. Under the glass dome, the mysterious glow hadn’t diminished. Dead petals were still scattered on the table, but there were many more still attached to the stem. The stem’s tip had started to droop, a reminder that while hope was not lost yet, he didn’t have an unlimited amount of time either.

But the rose was safe and protected.

Now that he had physical proof that he hadn’t destroyed the rose after all, he picked up the mirror next. He usually placed a paw over the surface when he picked up the mirror, just so he wouldn’t have to confront his reflection.

This time was different though.

He couldn’t hide away forever…no matter how much he wanted to.

So he looked at his image, realizing that if Pinky didn’t flinch away at his horns and fangs, maybe he could be brave enough to do the same.

“Show me my servants.”

He averted his gaze as the mirror flashed green, then cleared to show an image of Dot triumphantly standing on the top shelf of the cupboard, while a grumpy Yakko leaned against the wall, upset that his spot had been stolen. Then the image panned over to Flavio pouring a kettle full of hot water into a teapot. Then Wakko waddled into the frame, leading a group of teacups, saucers, and tiny spoons onto a cart.

The image changed to Marita dictating a letter to her sweetheart with the help of a quill and inkwell.

Hello Nurse wrapped bandages around the tip of a broom handle, while Scratchinsniff stuffed cotton and feathers into what remained of his cushion.

The Goodfeathers roosted on Laverne. Buttons trying to get Mindy settled for bed while Rita sleepily told off Runt for riling her up to play.

Everyone was alive and safe. That terrible burden was lifted off his shoulders.

“Pinky. Show me Pinky,” the Beast whispered.

When the mirror showed Pinky out in the hallway, still waiting for him to come back, he knew where he wanted to be.

He put the mirror down and left the West Wing, closing the door behind him. Upon the Beast’s approach, Pinky leapt with joy and greeted him with a smile and a shout that could light up the darkest night.

And it was nice.

End AN:

This chapter was super angsty. There was gonna be a part at the end with Pinky and the Beast drinking tea in the library, but I didn’t like how that portion turned out so it was cut (the tea Flavio and Wakko were putting together was sent to them as a comfort measure).

In the Broadway musical and 2017 movie, the servants become fully inanimate and die when the last petal falls. I personally never liked this plot point because it makes Beast releasing Belle a bit iffy for me. So I’m only using it for a dream scenario.

There is one thing that sadly didn’t make it into the chapter, and that was the Beast using his cloak to cover a sleeping Pinky as a thank you. Maybe in a future installment I’ll be able to squeeze it in there.

The Yellowy joke is...kinda bad. But I had fun with it lol.

#pinky and the brain #beauty and the beast au #patb fanfiction

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