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alittlewhump · 3 years

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Unbidden - Act 1, chapter 2

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Content warnings: None, still pretty light here.

It wasn't long before they reached a small encampment where another woman called out to the one who had been guiding Morgan. "Fiona, I swear you're the worst scout we have. There's something following you, you know."

The rogue - Fiona - put her hands on her hips.

"I'll have you know, Akara, that this is an adventurer. He's going to combat our evil."

"And why didn't you send him to the den?"

"I just wanted your blessing, ma'am."

"More like you didn't want to go out of your way." The woman, evidently a superior of some sort, looked Morgan over with a cool gaze. "There's a monster den about half an hour's walk to the west of here. They've been giving us some trouble. If you can exterminate them, we'll talk."

Talking was very low on the list of things Morgan wanted to do. But eliminating a nest of evil creatures - that was a good task, easily defined with no messy human contact. And, of course, it would also contribute in a small way toward restoring the Balance, to fulfilling the request that had sent him out here in the first place. Surely it was more than just one den causing problems, but they likely wanted to test his ability. He nodded to show he'd understood, then turned to go. The two women continued to talk as he left.

"Is he mute, or what?"

"Nah, he talks. But listen, you'll never believe this -"

He stopped listening. There were more important things to think about, like whether or not it would be worth the effort to concentrate on making clay golems instead of using skeletons. He debated as he walked, keeping an ear out for sounds of danger. Skeletons were plentiful in these parts, he'd discovered. So that was convenient. He paused to raise two out of a boggy patch of ground. Two was a good number, enough to draw enemy attention away without draining his energy too much. He could only manage one earth golem at a time, but if other risen skeletons were attacking the Sisterhood... yes, the extra effort was probably worth it to ease future interactions. He could always reserve the skeletons for use away from the encampment, lay them back down into the earth outside their view.

Morgan stopped, crouching down to touch the ground. He sent out a tendril of magical energy, spreading it thin to form a humanoid shape. The earth lifted, obedient but slow, a form rising up ponderously. It took almost a minute to fully form, and Morgan was breathing hard by the end of it. It was a small golem, only a little taller than him but considerably sturdier. It would do for now. He was admittedly a little out of practice, but he resolved to keep working at it. Later, after this den was taken care of.

It was early the next morning by the time Morgan returned to the rogue encampment. The nest of imp demons had presented a challenge, but not an insurmountable one. He'd had to rest afterwards, taking a few hours to meditate. It wasn't quite sleeping, but it was close enough. He'd also remembered to put his skeletons back into the ground outside the view of the little town. A clay golem plodded along by his side; he was just more comfortable with at least one construct to protect him.

A familiar voice raised a call as he approached the town gate. "Hey, ghoul boy's back!" The encroaching forces of darkness must have taken a toll on their numbers, Morgan surmised. Why else would a scout have two watch shifts so close to one another? The sooner he could get to the root of the problem, the better - for all of them.

The gate rolled open and a new woman approached. Judging by her more impressive-looking armour, Morgan guessed her to be some sort of commander. When she spoke, she certainly had the tone of a leader.

"I didn't think we'd see you back here, outlander. Did you clear the den of monsters?"

"They were demons, not monsters." He hung back by the gates, reluctant to enter without an explicit invitation.

"Demons. Monsters. I don't care what they are other than dead. Are they dead?"

"Yes."

"Good. Welcome to the Sisterhood of the Sightless Eye - what's left of it, anyway. Fiona says you're here to cleanse the evil from this place. She also says you came out of the woods alongside some skeletons, so I'm not sure what to believe. Tell me about yourself, stranger."

A few more women clad in light armour had appeared, hanging back behind their leader. Not so different from the imps he'd just finished with, Morgan thought - skittish, wary. He decided to keep that comparison to himself. No sense in actively antagonizing them. They were already poised to dislike him based on his school of magic, based on his experience so far. It was possible that whoever had sent the request to his Order had done so in secret. It was also possible that they had passed on already, given the sorry state of things. He tried to skirt the issue delicately.

"I am a follower of Rathma. We are charged with maintaining the Balance between light and darkness. We received word of a source of evil nearby that threatens to disrupt that Balance. I seek to destroy it. If you can direct me-"

"The priests of Rathma are necromancers, are they not?" This was the woman from before, Akara. He hadn't noticed her standing behind the rest of them. He recognized the disdain in her face, her voice. He'd been hoping to avoid this type of interaction, but he'd never been able to figure out a good way to dodge the question without lying outright. And while he could technically lie - there wasn't anything physically or magically preventing it - he had never developed the barest shred of skill in the art of deceit, and it was impossibly difficult to guess what people would or wouldn't believe in any given situation. In cases where the truth would be unwelcome, the best option was usually to try to deflect.

"I don't intend to do you any harm," he tried.

"Answer the question, then. Yes or no."

Well, it had been worth trying. It seemed like Akara knew the answer anyway, and just wanted to hear it from him, for some reason.

"Yes."

Most of the women took a horrified step back, grimacing in disgust or fear. He didn't let it bother him on a personal level - it was easiest to work from the assumption that everyone would have these sorts of feelings toward him, based on either his appearance or his affiliation - but it rarely bade well for situations like this in which he needed information. The commander didn't flinch, which was heartening. She turned to face Akara.

"We can't afford to be choosy right now, Priestess. Whatever his methods, this is the best chance we've had in a while. I'm not going to waste it." She turned back to Morgan. "You'd do best to start by finding Deckard Cain. Word is, he knows just about everything there is to know. If he still lives, he should be able to tell you more about the evil that blights our land here."

He listened carefully as she described this scholar and his last known whereabouts. It was a good plan, to gather as much information as possible before properly facing down whatever evil had rooted there. It would likely take a few days to reach Tristram, which would give him time to work on his golems. He was pleased with these developments until the commander turned to address the women huddled behind her.

"Blaise, you'll go with him."

What? No, this wouldn't do at all. Other people just complicated things. What Morgan needed was the simplicity of solitude with his golems. He raised his hands in protest. "Madam, I really don't-"

"What the fuck, Kashya?" That was presumably Blaise, voicing a much louder objection. "Are you still mad about that thing last week? I said I was sorry, I don't deserve-"

"That wasn't a request," Kashya said calmly. "I think you're the best one for the job, and I won't hear any arguments. Now get your things together for the journey." The assembled rogues huddled in a group, chattering quietly amongst themselves as Blaise turned on her heel and stalked away. Morgan took a few steps toward their commander.

"Please, madam Kashya, I ask you to reconsider-"

"When I said no arguments, I meant it. Two heads are better than one. Now you can wait outside; you're making my girls nervous."

Morgan waited outside. It was clear that the matter was not open for discussion. He guessed that pushing it further would only serve to alienate the single person who seemed at all willing to work with him. One was better than none, so he would try to stay on her good side.

#my writing #story: unbidden

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dazebrasrecs · 4 years

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Fic Recs: Critical Role (C2)

Includes: Genfic, Caleb/Clay, Caleb/Fjord, Caleb/Molly, and Caleb/Essek. (Can you tell I have a fave boy?)

Fics marked with ~ are incomplete.

This list will not be updated.

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Gen

blue is the friendliest colour by invoked_duplicity

Length: 2k / Rating: G / Genre: Fluff / Warnings: N/A

Summary: Nott and Jester spend some time to do "girl stuff".

~Everything She's Not(t) series by Angel Ascending (angel_in_ink)

Length: 6k / Rating: T / Genre: H/C / Warnings: eventual Nott/Yeza

Summary: “You don’t have to hide from me, you know. I will not bite you.” The man’s voice was soft, thick with an accent that Nott could not identify. He didn’t look over in Nott’s direction when he spoke, just kept looking at the window.

Nott didn’t move from her corner. She liked corners in general. No one could sneak up on you when you were in a corner. Though, now that she thought about it, being in a corner meant there was no where else to go if someone was in front of you. Like everything that might offer Nott safety, there was always a catch.

“My name is Caleb,” the man said. “Caleb Widogast.”“

I’m Nott,” Nott said, because that’s what you were supposed to do when someone gave you their name, you gave yours back. Besides, talking to the stranger would at least help distract her a little.

There was a pause. “You’re not what?”

a study in attraction by invoked_duplicity

Length: 1k / Rating: T / Genre: Drama / Warnings: N/A

Summary: Caleb asks Beau about her attraction towards women. The conversation doesn't lead where Beau expects it to lead.

The Warmth of Family by FallzVentus

Length: 1k / Rating: G / Genre: Fluff / Warnings: N/A

Summary: Caleb and Nott have been traveling for a while now. The wizard can't help but feel that Nott deserves more than the current life they live. So he decides to work towards giving her the experience of having a family.

When You Wake Up The World Will Come Around by infraredphaeton

Length: 6k / Rating: G / Genre: Fluff / Warnings: N/A

Summary: When a chance encounter at a tavern in a very, very anti-goblin town reveals Nott's identity, Caleb casts a spell to hide her as a human- a young, human girl, who looks a lot like him. It's only natural to pretend that he's her father. It's just. Nott didn't expect to kind of *like* having a Dad.

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Caleb/Clay

Bared by walkalittleline

Length: 3k / Rating: E / Genre: PWP / Warnings: N/A

Summary: The Mighty Nein take a much needed trip to the bathhouse before departing Nicodranas.

Book Learning by walkalittleline

Length: 5k / Rating: E / Genre: PWP / Warnings: N/A

Summary: There are a lot of things Caduceus doesn't know. Caleb is always willing to teach, though.

Caduceus and His Book of Things He Doesn't Know

Length: 8k / Rating: T / Genre: Fluff / Warnings: N/A

Summary: Caduceus received a gift in a form of a journal from Caleb as thanks for his contribution to the Mighty Nein. He may or may not be trying to win the firbolg's attention. Either way, Caduceus has no idea what's going on.

Good Things Come to Those Who Wait by RoyalHeather

Length: 2k / Rating: E / Genre: PWP / Warnings: N/A

Summary: Leaning in, Caduceus pulls Caleb closer against him, his warm breath touching the back of Caleb’s neck, his earthy scent filling Caleb’s nostrils. His hands slide over Caleb’s stomach and hips; Caleb swallows hard, desire coiling up his spine. Broad fingers splayed out, Caduceus slowly brings his right hand over Caleb’s groin, letting it rest there before squeezing gently. Caleb inhales sharply, skin prickling all over. But Caduceus just stays there, his soft nose in Caleb’s hair, one hand gripping Caleb’s hip, the other giving only the occasional, maddening rub at Caleb’s crotch. After several minutes, Caleb is ready to burst out of his skin, and he snaps, “If you are going to fuck me, Caduceus Clay, you had better do it now.”

~Kink Therapy series by walkalittleline

Length: 28k / Rating: E / Genre: PWP / Warnings: BDSM, Sex Pollen, knotting, breath play

Summary: Caleb gets a face full of sex pollen and that's all you're getting from me.

Kiss the Cook by Alarnia

Length: 8k / Rating: E / Genre: PWP / Warnings: BDSM

Summary: Happily married, Caleb gets Caduceus a new apron and asks him to wear it... and nothing else, for a very special dinner.

A Little Bit Closer by walkalittleline

Length: 16k / Rating: E / Genre: Drama,AU / Warnings: N/A

Summary: It’s not that he doesn’t enjoy evenings out drinking with his friends. On the contrary, he welcomes the temporary respite from his own ceaseless thoughts of studying and grading papers and planning lessons and everything else he’s constantly fretting over, has no problem getting in a few drinks to let the warm haze of alcohol loosen his limbs and unwind his brain. He doesn’t, however, find much enjoyment in the too-loud music and crowded spaces of the clubs that Beau and Molly so often pick for them to frequent when they make these jaunts at the start of the weekend.

Two Minds by sabinelagrande

Length: 3k / Rating: E / Genre: PWP / Warnings: N/A

Summary: Caleb just needs someone who understands.

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Fjord/Caleb

anything but by MsMaarvel

Length: 2k / Rating: G / Genre: Drama/ Warnings: N/A

Summary: He needs to get more powerful. Being defeated by a lowly imp could not have been more embarrassing, and he really needed to stop owing Nott life debts. He only had one, after all. But there is one problem.

By the Winding River by mollymaukerie

Length: 4k / Rating: T / Genre: Romance / Warnings: N/A

Summary: After the days of travel towards Zadash, Caleb takes a quick dip in a nearby stream. Fjord comes by to lend a hand not before long.

choke this love by nighimpossible

Length: 4k / Rating: E / Genre: PWP / Warnings: BDSM, semi-public sex

Summary: “The idea that I’m going to apologize for stopping you from sticking a sword down your throat is just—absurd,” Caleb hisses back. “Tell me you’re not going to do it again.”

Fjord feels a little like a petulant child, but he does purse his lips in anger before replying, “Funny thing: you don’t get to tell me what to do, Caleb.” As Fjord says the words, he suppresses a shiver that slithers down his back. Stop that.

Convection by SnubbingApollo

Length: 12k / Rating: E / Genre: Romance/H/C / Warnings: N/A

Summary: The first time Fjord and Caleb share a room Beau hands Molly three silver pieces. Caleb turns so red for a moment Fjord is afraid he might faint. Fjord grumbles good-naturedly about the rudeness of betting on friends and tries not to think about the fact that they’d apparently been so obvious. He’d been waiting for Caleb to suggest telling them, knowing the man was private and still skittish with the group, but he supposes he isn’t the most… subtle flirter.

Craving You series by MeBeThem4815

Length: 15k / Rating: E / Genre: PWP / Warnings: BDSM, eventual Fjord/Molly/Caleb

Summary: Caleb thought he understood what Nott had been talking about, when she talked about the itch. He had thought it was similar to when he saw a new book on arcane lore in a shop. He had thought Nott was referring to the longing and the ache in his chest when he had to, inevitably, pass the book by due to lack of funds. But now, now, now he knew better. Now he knew what an itch was.

I Gave Into Sickness (Can You Find Forgiveness) by GrannyBoo

Length: 3k / Rating: G / Genre: Angst / Warnings: N/A

Summary: Caleb's fear takes a toll on his and Fjord's relationship

~The Grunge Hobo Learns to Trust by Catzgirl

Length: 41k / Rating: E / Genre: Angst / Warnings: Violence, non-con

Summary: Caleb is hiding some secrets from the gang, and they come back to haunt him at the very worst of times. Fjord is there to catch him.

I'm A Desert You're An Ocean (It's Your Motion That I Need) by GrannyBoo

Length: 1k / Rating: E / Genre: PWP / Warnings: N/A

Summary: Fjord wasn’t sure how they’d managed to get there in the first place; a few too many ales for Caleb and whiskeys for Fjord, tantalizing promises whispered between the two at the table before Caleb excused himself to bed and Fjord, waiting until he’d finished his last glass, followed after. It took all of one second after he’d knocked on Caleb’s door to be dragged in and pressed against the wall, the smaller, slighter man pressing the entire length of his body against the half-orc’s.

Making it Work by PyrophobicDragon

Length: 2k / Rating: T / Genre: Romance / Warnings: N/A

Summary: It becomes a little joke between the two of them.

Proving Worth by SnubbingApollo

Length: 3k / Rating: T / Genre: Romance / Warnings: N/A

Summary: Fjord is acting… strange.

something good, something strange by nighimpossible

Length: 3k / Rating: E / Genre: PWP / Warnings: BDSM, voyeurism

Summary: Caleb shifts his vision into Frumpkin and flies the familiar a little closer, his small bird feet wrapping around a sapling nearby. Fjord looks into the trees and gives the sparrow a quick nod before pressing a small kiss to the back of Caleb’s neck. It is an achingly soft gesture, one that Caleb does not know how to parse. And then Caleb is lost to sensation.

Thread by Crewe

Length: 2k / Rating: G / Genre: Fluff / Warnings: N/A

Summary: Fjord and Caleb develop a routine at night, Caleb reading his books and Fjord mending his and his friends' clothes.

Or: In which Caleb greatly resembles his familiar, and Fjord understands the virtues of patience, quiet, and boundaries.

till the last flower by vannral

Length: 8k / Rating: T / Genre: Angst / Warnings: N/A

Summary: The Hanahaki Disease is an illness born from one-sided love, where the patient coughs up flower petals. The infection can be removed through surgery, but the feelings disappear along with the petals.Caleb Widogast is heartbroken and very tired.

What Bravery Looks Like by Angel Ascending (angel_in_ink)

Length: 6k / Rating: G / Genre: H/C / Warnings: N/A

Summary: It had been a long night, one of those kind of long nights that had turned into a long morning, and Caleb was exhausted, the kind of exhausted that made him ache in his bones. His plan was to go back to the inn, fall onto his bed, and sleep the day around. There was an old saying, that men plan and the gods laugh.

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Molly/Cayleb

Black Skies Change into Blue by Saoto

Length: 10k / Rating: NR / Genre: Drama / Warnings: Love potions

Summary: Caleb believes that Molly drank a love philtre that Nott stole. So to prevent him from falling in love with Caleb's "little sister", Caleb makes sure Molly looks at him instead. But somehow, Molly really does not like it when Caleb tells him that - no worries! - the feelings he has for Caleb right now are nothing but fake...

Blush by LivesToLead

Length: 3k / Rating: T / Genre: Fluff / Warnings: N/A

Summary: Four times Molly made Caleb flustered and the one time Caleb made Molly flustered.

Darkvision by Calminaiel

Length: 5k / Rating: E / Genre: PWP / Warnings: N/A

Summary: While the rest of the group slumbers upstairs, Caleb and Molly are alone in the darkened tavern.

~Dreams series by Nisey

Length: 18k / Rating: E / Genre: PWP / Warnings: N/A

Summary: Mollymauk keeps having dreams about Caleb. It culminates on a day off from their travels and he must decide what to do about it.

ecstasy delivered with certainty by Lauren (notalwaysweak)

Length: 1k / Rating: E / Genre: PWP / Warnings: N/A

Summary: For the kink meme prompt (abbreviated): 'Caleb is now clean and pretty with directions to a sex shop, they're in a big town - it’s time to make a bit more money via the oldest profession ... maybe working gloryholes for tips at the dirty bookstore...'

Flickering Desire by Aristathelia

Length: 3k / Rating: E / Genre: PWP / Warnings: N/A

Summary: The heat in Mollymauk’s eyes had a questioning quality when Caleb next looked up and the wizard couldn’t help the jolt that went down his spine. Heat seemed to have gathered below his navel and tingles had gathered in his fingertips. It felt a little like when he was casting, the same electrical sizzle making him short of breath.

A Fur Lined Cloak by chaya

Length: 21k / Rating: E / Genre: Drama / Warnings: slavery, BDSM

Summary: Caleb must be a Duke for this mission, so that leaves Molly to be his... companion. You may be wondering: is this the kind of indulgent writing that includes sleeping furs, large tankards of mead, and snuggling for warmth? Dear reader, it is exactly that.

It was only a Kiss by WonderingsAndMusings

Length: 3k / Rating: E / Genre: PWP / Warnings: N/A

Summary: After defeating the gnolls and manticore and returning to Alfield safe, Caleb asks Molly why he kissed him. And tells him to do it again.

Kiss Through Copper by wilderswans

Length: 3k / Rating: E / Genre: PWP / Warnings: N/A

Summary: Fantasy Skype Sex

North by SnubbingApollo

Length: 5k / Rating: E / Genre: PWP, H/C / Warnings: BDSM, past abuse

Summary: Trent had been the star he’d used to find north and over time he’d forgotten how to find it himself.Except it turned out Trent had been leading him every direction but north, obscuring the whole world in fog until Caleb had forgotten the shape of things entirely. Until he could only find his way by stumbling blindly in whatever direction Trent had pointed.And now Trent is gone. The fog has been pulled away but Caleb still can’t see. He doesn’t remember how.

only forward by invoked_duplicity

Length: 1k / Rating: G / Genre: H/C / Warnings: panic attacks

Summary: Molly panics. Caleb tries to comfort him.

Snowed In by MeBeThem4815

Length: 10k / Rating: E / Genre: PWP / Warnings: BDSM, blood play

Summary: When a snow storm separates Caleb and Molly from the rest of the Nein, antics ensue.This is just pure, self indulgent porn to get me back on the writing train after an illness. You're welcome.

Stammtisch by chaya

Length: 28k / Rating: E / Genre: Fluff / Warnings: N/A

Summary: Someone asked for "The Nein's first experience in Mordenkainen's mansion after Caleb learns to cast it". This is literal world-building so of COURSE it got really long and involved.

A Useful Little Spell by threerings

Length: 5k / Rating: E / Genre: Smut / Warnings: N/A

Summary: Caleb uncovers a promising new spell but unfortunately it requires two people. Two people having sex.

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Caleb/Essek

Calculated Risks by Cardinal_Daughter

Length: 3k / Rating: M / Genre: Romance / Warnings: N/A

Summary: Caleb knows a calculated risk when he sees one.

hearts are too heavy a burden to bear alone by personalized_radio

Length: 10k / Rating: M / Genre: AU, Romance / Warnings: N/A

Summary: Caleb Widowgast is the only student to show up to Essek's study hours. Caleb...is not enrolled in the class or the program, but Essek has to be here anyway and Caleb has the book and is determined to learn. Also he brings Essek coffee every single time and it's never the same but always delicious so Essek doesn't mind explaining the basics or going over concepts between lesson planning in exchange. Caleb has very pretty eyes.

Honesty by aunt_zelda

Length: 4k / Rating: M / Genre: PWP / Warnings: BDSM

Summary: Essek waits. Perhaps he is supposed to guess the likeliest offer and spare Caleb the embarrassment of asking? He keeps his mouth shut, waiting, watching Caleb wrestle internally with his shame and desires. It’s an engaging sight.

“I want you to use me.” Caleb says at last.

Ah. Ambiguous language, to a less discerning individual. Essek understands, but wishes to draw it out from Caleb’s own lips. “Use you?” he lingers on the syllables. “Yes, to ferret out spies from the Empire. We’ve discussed this.”

Caleb shakes his head in a twitching movement. “No. Not like that.” His hands fail briefly in agitation. He’s coming apart at the seams, this man. Essek very much wants to know what’s hidden underneath.

(Mis)Trust in Me by MoonwalkingCrab

Length: 31k / Rating: E / Genre: Romance / Warnings: N/A

Summary: Caleb is torn. He has been trained to get what he wants from people, and so often he has. But something feels different this time. Now he is hesitant to trust his own impulses. Is it really just his training kicking in, or does he simply want to spend time with Essek for no ulterior reason?

The Only Way Is Essik's by supersonica

Length: 8k / Rating: E / Genre: PWP / Warnings: N/A

Summary: Leaning a little closer so his breath could brush Caleb’s oddly round ear, Essik said, softly, “If you’d like, you could visit my library this evening, Herr Widogast.”

“Is that a euphemism?” Caleb asked, snorting. “It’s not a very appealing one.”

Essik rolled his eyes. “No, I—what do you take me for? I do actually have a private library, feel free to come by after dinner. And also,” he made a very quick decision about how good the hearing range of Caleb’s companions probably was. “I don’t need a euphemism to say I’d quite like you to suck my cock.”

What's sexier than wizards NOTHING by Dweebspace

Length: 7k / Rating: E / Genre: Romance / Warnings: N/A

Summary: “Is this still you wanting to do magic?” Essek asks. There is a vulnerability to his voice that Caleb hasn’t heard before from the shadowhand, though he recognizes it. Fear of rejection. Fear of being used. Fear of being a means to an end.

“No,” he says, “This is you. You are very clever and very attractive.” He clears his throat. “This is me wanting you.”

Zero to Sixty by indefensibleselfindulgence

Length: 2k / Rating: E / Genre: AU / Warnings: N/A

Summary: Caleb is new in town, but at least Hot Uber Driver is nice.

#critical role #fic recs #clayleb #caleb x essek #widowmauk #caleb widogast #essek thelyss #fjord critical role #caduceus clay

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etherian-affairs · 5 years

Text

After a moment of deliberation Praxa knows her decision. "Pancakes! Little ones! And... Bacon! Oh! Maybe a kind of sweet bacon? Honey on it? Or syrup?" She hmms.

The chef chuckles. "We can make that happen. Come on. I'll show you how."

Praxa grins, happy. "Okay!" And the duo get to work on cooking!

It's a bit into this when Praxa noticed a figure standing at the door. Papa! He looks tall and proper and in charge like always! But he's smiling, watching Praxa. She waves with her oven mitts on. "Hi Papa! I'm sorry am I taking too long? We're almost done then we can have breakfast!"

Hordak just chuckles. "Not too long at all, My Daughter." He nods to her. "I simply wished to come see what was happening in the kitchens. You did not give me and your mother much in the way of an idea of what we should be doing or where we should wait for you."

Praxa gasps! She didn't! She forgot all about those details. "I'm sorry! I hope I didn't worry you!"

"Only a reasonable amount." Hordak smirks. "Your mother and I will prepare the dining table for us." He notes. "And we will meet you there." The Lord looks past Praxa for a moment to address the chef. "Prepare a small bowl of... Lot 32, to go with this." He adds before turning to head off.

The Chef just nods to him. Praxa knows what that's about. One of Papa's stored blood lots. In a bowl so he might use it as a sauce or something! He does that sometimes when eating other things!

Regardless Praxa herself sighs in relief. For a moment she was feeling like she almost messed things up! Luckily she didn't! And now she can finish cooking! With the chefs help of course.

The chef did most of it but Praxa definitely contributed!

It's not long before they're heading out with the food! And Praxa gets help from her parents and Emily to put everything on the table for them before hopping up into her chair with a smile.

Entrapta and Hordak both take their seats. Both smiling. Entrapta seeming quite a bit happy and bouncy, Hordak more reserved yet still allowing himself to display clear happiness.

"Thank you for making us breakfast, Praxa." Hordak nods to his daughter. "It looks grand."

"yeah!" Entrapta adds happily. "And look it's all small! So cute! Ah this is great! I love family breakfast!" The Lady pulls out her recorder. "Daily log Addition 48. Praxa has made breakfast! It looks delicious! Will commence testing tastiness hypothesis!"

Hordak chuckles. "You do not need to play it up quite so much my Beloved."

"I like to! Plus it is exciting!"

Praxa just giggles at her parents banter and praise. "Let's eat!" She declares happily as she reaches out with grabby claws to get some pancakes for herself. Hordak ends up helping her serve herself.

Together they enjoy breakfast. Imp even falls down onto Emily and gets to nibble some bacon!

It's a good way to start a good day for the Young Madame of Dryl, and while it's not always easy, it's always worth it!

========

You a did it! You guided Praxa on her Quest for a family breakfast! She could have made some silly or even bad choices there but you all steered her true. The Young Madame of Dryl has succeeded on this day alongside you.

This had no real plot planned at the start so even that itself came from the initial replies.

Praxa's quest was a successful one. Perhaps there will be more in future!

#young madame praxa #praxa quest

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emperorsfoot · 5 years

Link

Finally got around to posting chapter 20 of “Genetic Composite”. Can’t guarantee the quality of this chapter. But I hope it’s at least fun.

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Hordak gasped when he felt a clawed hand wrap around his ankle and pull him out from under the console he was working on. A halo of wires that he was working on ripped out with him.

Snarling, Hordak sat up to glare at the one who dared bother him.

Catra.

He froze.

“Hey, Hordak.” She said in a taunting tone that somehow made his skin crawl. “You’ve been taking a while, with nothing to show for it.”

Something in the back of his mind set off an alarm. He was in danger here. One misstep could end him. End him before he ever had a chance to see Entrapta again and demand his satisfaction. Never mind getting home and seeing Prime. Catra had the upper hand. Hadn’t had the upper hand since the portal was opened less than a month ago.

“It has not even been one month of this planet’s lunar rotations.” He reminded her. “One cannot expect instantaneous results. Not if you wish a job done properly.”

He said this, remembering full well that he had often demanded instant results from those under him, regardless of the difficulty of the task. Hordak cast his brain around trying to remember if Catra was one such underling he demanded immediate results from and he was alarmed to realize that he could not recall.

Her lips curled into an unforgiving sneer. “I’m giving you until the end of the day.”

“End of the night.” Hordak argued, irrationally negotiating for more time knowing full well that he did not have the upper hand in this situation. “I work best in the dark.”

That unforgiving sneer morphed into a humorless smile. Almost malicious. Like she were laughing at some cruel but secret joke that only she knew. “Until the end of the night.”

She held his eyes for a moment longer. Mismatched yellow and blue, holding bioluminescent red.

Hordak looked away first. Admitting submission.

Catra smirked with a nod. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

She walked away.

Hordak watched her leave, waiting to the count of ten after the bridge door closed behind her to move. He didn’t exactly know what he had to do, but he did know that he couldn’t remain with Catra. He didn’t know the desert like she did, upon arriving in the Crimson Wastes, Hordak quickly learned that all of the reports he’d received on it were inaccurate, if not all out wrong. So, running aimlessly into the dunes was not an escape, it was just a different kind of sentence. What he needed was help.

Loath though he was to admit it.

Needing help meant he was weak.

But, as a treacherous scientist he still had conflicting feelings about once said, ‘Everyone needs a little help sometimes.’

Hordak hadn’t been able to figure out the former She-Ra’s message. It was very apparent to him that he needed the sword for that. However, every ship had a distress signal. That would be simple and straightforward. The kind of thing that even an untrained passenger could activate in a panic-stricken stupor.

The only technology on this miserable planet capable of picking up on a First Once signal was the equipment in his own Sanctum –which may or may not still be functioning- and the Princess Alliance. Hordak already knew that the chances of his own people picking up and following the signal in a meaningful time were slim to none. Not to mention, there was no reason for a Horde soldier to answer a distress signal in the first place. If a being was begging strangers for help, then they were too weak to be worth giving help to.

The Princess Alliance, however… they were soft. Their hearts bleeding for the disadvantaged and the needy. They would answer a distress call. All the more so, since this distress call would be coming from the former She-Ra’s ship. Even if they didn’t necessarily want to help, they would at least want to know what was going on at so important a place.

Once they arrived, obviously, they would never help him.

But former-Force Captain Adora and Catra might distract each other enough that Hordak could commandeer whatever vehicle they came in to simply just drive out of the Crimson Wastes. The two women were rather obsessed with each other, he’d noticed. What better distraction was there for Catra but Adora!

It was the best plan he could come up with on such short notice with such little time.

…

The command room door slid open to reveal that Entrapta had already returned. Dak paused before entering, wondering if they even should, or if they should continue to ‘give Mother some time’, as Micah suggested.

But then Entrapta looked over her shoulder to see who had just come him. “Oh. You’re here.” Her expression was cautiously curious. “Adora say’s you’re also good with tech. Come in and give me a hand with this.”

With nothing else to do, Dak shrugged and did as they were told. Imp resting on their shoulder, their ever-faithful companion.

The command room was much changed from when Dak ran out of it just a few hours before. The consoles and screens that had been inactive and inert before, were now booted up and running, blazing with warm soft light. It took a moment for their eyes to adjust to the change. The bioluminescent glow of their sclera dimming to not overstimulate the hybrid’s retina.

“Come in, come in.” Moving on her hair, Entrapta crossed the space to the door and wrapped a tentacle of hair around the child, pulling them off their feet and all the way into the control room.

Imp squawked in protest, falling off Dak’s shoulder when she yanked the hybrid off their feet.

Both Dak and Entrapta ignored him.

“This is the most complete First Ones outpost I’ve ever seen!” She continued, not looking at the hybrid as she spoke, but still keeping her hair wrapped around them as she moved. “If I’m gonna study it, I’ll need a lab-“ she cut herself off abruptly, stumbling over whatever word she was about to use. “An intern. I’ll need an intern. Since Adora says you’re good at tech, I was thinking you could be my Lab Intern.”

It was all the hybrid could do to just stare at their mother. Just a few hours ago, she couldn’t even be in the same room as them. Now, here she was, wrapping her hair around them and carrying them around the room as she explained things, speaking a mile a minute, and asking them to work along side her on a shared interest.

“I can take apart and put back together the robots in your Locked Room.” Dak informed her, to give an idea of their level of knowledge and skill. ‘Good with tech’ could mean any number of things and Dak did not want to endanger this tentative connection with their mother just because she and Adora had different ideas of what ‘good with tech’ meant.

Entrapta paused, not quite understanding for a moment. “’Locked Room’? Oh! You must mean my Lab! I keep it locked when I’m not in there. So, you managed to get in huh? Not bad, not bad. All my robots are my own design, but they run off First Ones power crystals, so you’re at least familiar with that much First Ones tech. Good. Good. And I’ve been told that you fixed Imp when he was offline for a bit. Imp is a very sophisticated AI from another dimension.”

Not knowing how to react to all this –for lack of a better term- praise, Dak only flushed, feeling suddenly very self-conscious. “I don’t know what all the things are called, so I can’t explain how I fixed him. I just took a look inside and connected the pieces I thought fit together.” A shrug. “Then Imp woke up and was fine.”

They did not feel the need to share the detail that they were the one who broke Imp and caused the android to go offline in the first place.

“Fascinating.” Entrapta was not looking at them. “You’re a natural prodigy with technology. Hordak, that is, the original Hordak wasn’t as clever as that. He was well educated, obviously, but not intuitive like that. That must be my genetic contribution manifesting. There is a long standing debate over whether intelligence is more strongly determined by environment or genetics. This would make a strong case for genetics.”

Once again, Dak didn’t know what to say in response to that, so they just didn’t say anything. They were just glad Mother wanted them around now.

It seemed no response was necessary because Mother was still talking. Explanations tumbling out of her mouth a mile a minute. She was exhibiting all the energy and passion that came across on her recordings. This was the version of Mother Dak was hoping to meet and they were happy Mother was recovered from her shock of meeting them enough to be this version of herself around them.

“Now that Adora’s got this place up and running, there’s so much data to go through!”

In a bit of a daze, Dak gave the now well-lit and functioning command room a more thorough examination. The consoles mostly all seemed to be on some kind of ‘waiting’ screen, although Dak could not be sure as they couldn’t read the Frist Ones language all the tech was programmed in. The central display screen, however, the one that took up almost the whole front wall, was displaying what might have been a map. It was mostly blank, but it had the latitude and longitude lines of a map. There was a spinning status wheel in the center of the screen as if it were trying to load something, or processing something, or scanning for something. Then every so often the status wheel would be interrupted and a message would flash on the screen, probably informing them of the results of the scan, although Dak couldn’t read it.

“What are we looking for?” They asked. Dak wanted to help Mother and make her like them, but they also needed to know what Mother wanted if they were to try and do it.

“Looking for?” Entrapta was momentarily confused. “We’re not looking for anything in particular. We’re just looking for knowledge! A better understanding of the First Ones and their technology.”

Wriggling in their mother’s hair enough to free one arm, Dak pointed a taloned finger at the main display screen on the front wall. “What’s that doing?”

Entrapta followed their finger with her eyes. “Oh. That. Adora set it to look for Eternia, but Eternia’s not here, so it just keep saying ‘Not Found’ then trying again. It’s in a bit of a loop.” She laughed happily. Technology could be funny.

Dak didn’t know what ‘Eternia’ was or how it might be important to Adora, but if it wasn’t within range of the scanners then it wasn’t relevant at the moment. What was relevant was that Mother wanted to learn more about First Ones tech and she was giving them an opportunity to work with her. Dak did not want to disappoint. They wanted to impress her. They wanted to contribute meaningfully to her research. “What if we set it to scan for other things?”

Turning her attention from the screen, Entrapta blinked at the hybrid, almost as if seeing them for the first time. Then her lips pulled into an excited smile and she clasped her hands together. “Like more First Ones tech! We could map out every single First Ones outpost, settlement, communications array, beacon, and base on the whole planet!”

She let the hybrid down out of her hair and turned to the nearest console, trying to recall her own rudimentary knowledge of the First Ones language. She could read a little. She wasn’t fluent. Certainly nowhere near as fluent as Adora. But she understood enough –she liked to think.

Dak could not reach the First Ones writing. They had been just barely beginning to master the Dryl dialect of Etherian basic when they ran away from home with Bow and Adora. First Ones language was beyond them. But they hoped that the suggestion was enough of a contribution that Mother would start to appreciate them.

Moving on their own hair, Dak came up beside Mother to get a better look at what she was doing. They didn’t recognize any of the characters or symbols on the keys she was typing, but she seemed to and that was the important thing, they supposed.

Imp came back to rest on top of the hybrid’s head to likewise watch Entrapta work, feeling oddly nostalgic. Seeing the hyper and overly excited Princess flit about a lab, with a sparkle in her eye, while a Horde clone looked on in mesmerized confusion. …Imp didn’t realize how much he missed master until this moment. He had been focused on master’s heir this whole time. He never had the chance to pause long enough to wonder what happened to master. Unlike Hode –whom Imp witnessed the fate of- he never saw what happened to master after the Princesses got in. He was in the corridors, covered in foam, locked out of the Sanctum, and master was in the Sanctum with the portal. Imp had no idea what happened to him.

“Look at this!” Entrapta interrupted their thoughts. “There’s a First One’s communications array in the Whispering Woods, in the village of Alwyn! And a First Ones stronghold, also in the Whispering Woods. Lot of First Ones tech in the Whispering Woods. Huh. Must have been a favorite spot of their’s or something.” She tapped her chin with her hair, filing the detail away in her mind for later study. “Ah! Here’s all the First Ones tech that keeps being unearthed in my mines back in Dryl. There’s the outpost in the Northern Reach. And over in the Crimson Wastes there’s-“

She cut herself off suddenly, staring at the signal the display was projecting.

Dak blinked glowing eyes at her. They certainly couldn’t decipher what was being projected on the main monitor. They didn’t understand the significance of the Crimson Wastes’ signal being different from the others.

“That’s not the same signal I picked up from the Fright Zone.” She said, not speaking to Dak in particular, but informing the air around them. “I need to get Adora! She’s better at reading First Ones than I am.”

Entrapta dashed from the room, leaving Dak to wonder what was going on and hope that they were not somehow being an annoyance to Mother.

Without air vents, Entrapta had to run through the halls and corridors like a normal frantic person. She found Adora sitting with Sea Hawk, as the latter was telling King Micah the story of when he first met Glimmer.

“…so then she just looks me dead-ass in the eyes and says ‘set your ship on fire’.” He was saying. “That was the moment I knew I belonged in the Princess Alliance.”

Sea Hawk paused, expecting Micah to laugh at that part. But the old man just looked confused. Like he didn’t quite understand what was supposed to be so funny. Like there was a generational gap that just couldn’t be crossed.

Entrapta interrupted them.

“I need Adora!” She announced, wrapping her hair around the younger woman and pulling her off her seat.

She carried Adora back to the command room, the rest of the group following after them. Equal parts confused and concerned. Scorpia caught up with them along the way and joined the entourage.

Dak had no moved from when their mother left. They didn’t want to risk pressing a wrong button or messing something up.

Entrapta dragged Adora to the center of the room and pointed to the central screen. “What is that?”

It took the other woman a moment or two for her brain to catch up with what Entrapta was asking. Dak realized very early on that while Adora was one kind of smart, that did not actually make her intelligent. On some things, she could be a little slow.

Finally, “That’s a distress call.” She gasped, leaning forward. “And it’s coming from Mara’s ship in the Crimson Wastes!”

“Mara’s ship!” Bow joined the group just a little bit after Scorpia had. “Is someone attacking Mara’s ship!?”

“I donno.” Adora admitted. “But we have to go. Mara was the last She-Ra before me. We can’t let her ship fall into enemy hands!”

“A First Ones’ ship?” Entrapta’s mind at first jumped to a water craft, or perhaps a floating land ship like one of the skiffs the Horde utilized. Those were the only kinds of ‘ships’ on Etheria. But then she remembered when Hordak was telling her of his turbulent origins, he mentioned ‘…with only his broken ship…’ and he was from another dimension where his people possessed technology that allowed them to travel between worlds. First Ones technology was so advanced, they must possess the same ability. The First Ones ship was a ship that had traveled to Etheria from another world –from Eternia! Entrapta had to see it! “Take me with you!”

Bow and Adora exchanged a look.

“I donno…” Adora had her misgivings.

“She might be able to help me fix the parts of Mara’s message that were damaged in the crash.” Bow pointed out.

Adora did want to know Mara’s full message. “Okay, Sea Hawk can get us back to the mainland, I imagine Micah will want to head back to Brightmoon, he can drop Dak off at Dryl on the way. We’ll take Entrapta and make our way to the Crimson Wastes.”

“Not going back to Dryl!” Dak protested this plan. They had only just met their mother, she was only just starting to give them attention. They did not want to be separated from her again. Dak glanced at Entrapta. “I want to see the First Ones ship too.”

“But it’s dangerous!” Scorpia protested. It really felt like she was the only person on the planet concerned for the child’s safety.

“Oh, Dak can take care of themself.” Adora assured her. The hybrid might be young, inexperienced, and naïve. But if they could move through the vents and ducts of the Crypto Castle, climb the outers walls, leap onto flag poles, bash flying deamon androids in the head, and leap-tackle warrior trained Jungle Tribe hunters, then they could handle themselves if things turned south in the Crimson Wastes.

Micah opened his mouth to agree with Scorpia. The Crimson Wastes were no place for a child.

But before he could say anything, the child in question cut him off. “I’m not going back to Dryl.” They repeated. “Not until Mother wants to go back. I’m going to see the First Ones ship with Mother, and you can’t stop me.” A pause. “Imp will help!”

Still perched on the hybrid’s head, the deamon gave a squawk of disagreement. He would not be helping master’s heir get themselves killed. What was it with these Horde clones and self-destructive decision making? First Hode, then Hordak, now Hordak Second of Their Name. It was almost like the drive to satisfy their wants was stronger than their drive to remain alive.

There was a beat.

Then Bow let out a sound half-way between a sigh and groan. “I mean… if they would beak two intruders out of their own dungeon and bludgeon original-Hordak’s flying minion, fly across the Growling Sea, and break into a Horde prison… why would we expect them to go back home where it safe for this?”

Dak smiled. They liked Bow. Bow just got it. Bow was probably Dak’s favorite adult thus far.

Imp chittered something rude under his breath.

As if the matter was settled, Dak grinned. “Are we ready to go?”

…

Hordak wasn’t working on the bridge consoles anymore. He wasn’t even trying to scrub and repair the former-She-Ra’s message.

He was shaping bits of metal and other scrap found around the ship into rangs, wing-shaped blades, pronged on one side, smooth on the other, like the wings on Horde banners, meant to be used as throwing weapons. Hordak was not a master of them. He preferred melee combat weapons like the force-pike or the quarter-staff. But they were his mentor’s favored weapon and Hode was a master of them. So Hordak had tried to become at least proficient with them back when he was still a Force Captain working under the late Lord.

He could not beat Catra in hand-to-hand fisticuffs. She was younger, more agile, and healthy. While he had become old for a clone, was slower than he used to be, and suffered failing health. In a straight up fight, Catra could beat him easily. Hordak needed weapons.

It only he’d had the wisdom –and discipline- to keep in practice with the throwing blades. It had been literal years since the last time he trained with them.

…

“Have you thought of a name yet?”

Zero-Zero-Three did not look away from practicing his katas with his force-pike when Red Hord entered the gymnasium. It was only a fool that allowed themselves to be distracted on the battlefield. There wasn’t a single hitch, or skip, or pause in his motions when he answered the Lord –the other Lord, he was a Lord too now, although it had not been made official yet. It would not become official until Horde Prime announced his elevation and his name.

They were making their way to Capital Core for Prime to make the announcement from Horde World, the center of the Empire. Zero-Zero-Three was a passenger aboard the Leather Vest, Lord Red Hord’s flagship.

“I have been considering several.” Zero-Zero-Three replied diplomatically. “I will never understand how you could have chosen your name so quickly in that moment.”

Red Hord walked the perimeter of the training circle. Watching Zero-Zero-Three’s movements and studying his technique. “Have you never thought of what kind of name you would choose before now?” He asked. “Did you not fantasize about rising to the cabinet from the moment you hatched from the tank?”

“I never thought I’d live long enough.” Admitted Zero-Zero-Three, feeling odd confessing to someone other than Hode. Hode knew about his defects. Hode understood. Red Hord did not know. Red Hord could not understand.

“Is that why you jumped to defend Hode when he didn’t want or need it?” Asked the other clone. “It was stupid, and if Hode had been literally any other Lord, he would have punished you severely. But you didn’t care, because you expected to die anyway.”

In that moment, at Horrin’s trial, Zero-Zero-Three had not even thought about dying. He had just wanted to protect his Lord. An older clone whom was the best superior officer Zero-Zero-Three had ever worked directly under. His own safety –never mind his life- didn’t even enter into his mind.

Completing the final kata in the set, Zero-Zero-Three paused.

He tried not to think about Hode too much. He was still angry at the older clone for demoting him and leaving him behind without explanation. Then the old man just had to go and die, so that not explanation could ever be given. Zero-Zero-Three resented him for that. But, hand in hand with that resentment was a strange and uncomfortable kind of regret. Hode had been the best superior he ever worked under and he died far away. Zero-Zero-Three wasn’t there with him when it happened. Zero-Zero-Three didn’t get to wish him farewell before the older clone went to join the All High Host.

Perhaps he paused too long, because Red Hord walked past the training circle and opened the weapons cabinet on the far wall. “Do you know any other weapons.”

“I am programed the same as all clones.” Zero-Zero-Three sounded almost insulted. “I know all the weapons the Horde uses.”

“But are you good at them?” Red Hord clarified.

Zero-Zero-Three paused to consider. “I’m good at the arm-mounted cannon, and throwing rangs.”

“Well, we won’t be firing arm-mounted cannons inside my ship.” Red Hord announced. “So, throwing rangs it’ll have to be. Let’s have a match.”

He pulled out a case full of twenty four standard issue, polished, and honed rangs.

It was standard contest rules. A few warm up rounds where all they had to do was stand still and throw at the practice targets. After the warmup, Red Hord hit the switch to run the training program. Moving targets now. Alternating gymnasium lights for distraction, panels opening in the walls to place objects in the way, or automated weapons that forced them to dodge or defend while still trying to make their shots. The program rising in difficulty and intensity as time went on.

“You know,” began Red Hord, never taking his eyes off the targets. His hands deftly plucked rang after rang off his belt, and flicked them at the targets with the skill of one who used the weapons often. “It’s not just your own name you’ll have to think of. You’ll also get to name your own capital ship.”

“Oh, that’s easy.” Zero-Zero-Three didn’t have to think about that. He already had something in mind for what he always thought would be a suitably intimidating and strong name for a capital ship. “Monstron, is what I’d name my flagship.”

Red Horde scoffed. Still not taking his attention off the training program they were running. “That does not follow the naming scheme for Imperial command flagships.”

All Imperial command flagships, that is, ships that belonged to the Emperor and his cabinet Lords, all followed the same naming scheme as the Velvet Glove. [Textile], [item]. The Velvet Glove, the Leather Vest, the Vinyl Hood, Lycra Pant, and Linen Cloak. So, Zero-Zero-Three had to come up with a name for his flagship as well as himself.

“Did Hode ever tell you why he named his ship the Vinyl Hood?” Asked Red Hord as he executed an unnecessarily complicated dodge and throw move, and still managed to hit the target.

Zero-Zero-Three did not want to admit that, no, Hode never did tell him why he named his flagship the Vinyl Hood.

“Something that’s hooded is hidden.” Explained Red Hord.

He said it so heavily, as if there was more meaning to the statement than just ‘hoods equal hide’. Zero-Zero-Three didn’t understand the significance and he fumbled a dodge in his confusion. A long pole folding out from the wall and catching him in the stomach. It knocked the wind out of him and he staggered backwards, determined to keep his feet under him. The last thing he wanted to do was collapse in front of one of the cabinet Lords –one of his fellow cabinet Lords, he was one of them now.

Shutting down the training program, Red Hord stared at him, studying. “Hode didn’t tell you anything.”

The words stung. Zero-Zero-Three liked to think he was special to the older clone. At least, Lord Hode seemed to invest unnecessary amounts of time in trying to educate him on culture. Poetry, fiction, sculpture, illustration, and music. But not in how he chose the name for his flagship. Or where he came up with his own name. ‘Hode’ was just ‘Horde’ with the R removed, right? At least, that’s what Zero-Zero-Three always thought. But now that he was learning that he didn’t actually know his Lord as well as he thought he did, Zero-Zero-Three was beginning to question that too.

The other Lord was still giving him a weird look. Zero-Zero-Three almost couldn’t decipher it. “You really don’t know about Hode.”

All this heavily weighted talk about the old clone with veiled significance that he didn’t understand was really starting to irritate Zero-Zero-Three. “Hode was a cabinet Lord, I was merely his Force Captain. He was not required to tell me anything.”

“Of course.” Nodded Red Hord. He was a cabinet Lord too, and was also equally not required to tell his subordinates anything. He circled the perimeter of the room, collecting the throwing rangs from the targets –and the walls just off from the targets, one of them needed to work on their aim. “You know, no one has seen Lord Hode’s deamon since he died. We’re all very interested to know what happened to it.”

Zero-Zero-Three frowned. “When Lord Hode demoted me to Territory Captain and then left me there, he still had his deamon with him.”

“I know.” Red Hord nodded, depositing the rangs back in their case and closing the weapons cabinet. “I wasn’t asking you where it was. Just mentioning that it was interesting that it was missing. Fascinating robots, the deamon-class android. Horde Prime meant them to be sort of administrative assistants for his cabinet. They had the same level of intelligence as a fully formed clone, but with much more memory storage, and the ability to record audio files. It would have made them perfect for relaying messages and communiques between the cabinet without danger of interception by enemy rebels. But all the cabinet used them for was to spy on and undermine each other.”

That must be why none of the other –current- cabinet Lords had deamons of their own. When Zero-Zero-Three was still newly hatched, he remembered another of the cabinet Lords besides Hode having a deamon. But when that Lord died, his deamon was decommissioned along with his flagship and never seen again.

Red Hord moved to exit the gymnasium. “Imagine what kinds of recordings and files Hode stored on his deamon.” He left. “Think of a decent name, and practice more with those rangs. Your aim is terrible.”

…

Everyone piled into the Dragon’s Daughter. Adora, Bow, Entrapta, Scorpia, Swift Wind, Imp, Micah, Dak, and of course, Sea Hawk. It was a little cramped on the deck, but not so much to prevent Sea Hawk from sailing it. There was some awkward squeezing between horse posterior and elongated scorpion tail, and uncomfortable bending and kneeling to tie off the main sail and make sure the boom didn’t swing around the bash anybody in the head.

But after they were out of the harbor and out on the water, things settled down.

There was an awkward moment where everyone was sort of staring at everyone. There really wasn’t much sitting room. Unless they didn’t mind sitting on the taffrail. But that ran the risk of them falling off the boat. Sea Hawk and Adora were the only ones brave enough. Feeling a bit claustrophobic, surrounded by so many people, Entrapta used her hair to lift herself up the mast, finding a more comfortable seat in the crows nest.

“So…” Bow began, trying to diffuse the awkwardness. “Usually, when we sail with Sea Hawk we have songs.”

“I’m not allowed to sing my song anymore.” Announced the sailor.

From out of nowhere, Bow produced his violin. “But we know more than one song, don’t we.”

With musical accompaniment, Scorpia reprised her song ‘Twiddle’.

“Saber had her lovers, they came in at every door, “You could even say that she was really quite a whore. “But when she needs some pleasing, she knows just where to go “I grab my good friend Madam Rouge and we go down below.”

After she finished the final chorus of her song, Micah, wanting to get in on the fun volunteered a song from when he was growing up in Mysticor.

“Sixteen books on magic spells, “Stacked below the cloak of elves. “And sixteen books on magic spells, “So elegantly bound. “And I know I could not say why, “On this summer evening.”

When Micah was done, however, the deck lapsed back into an awkward silence. No one really knowing what to say to anyone else. It wasn’t like all of them were friends. Scorpia and Imp were former Horde. Technically, Adora was too, but she was also a Hero of the Rebellion, same as Bow. Micah was an old Rebellion leader, but hadn’t been seen for twenty years. No one on the boat had ever actually met him before coming to Beast Island. No one really knew where Entrapta and Dak stood. Entrapta seemed to hop the lines as if she were playing jump rope, and Dak made it abundantly clear that they stood with their ‘mother’.

“Hey, Entrapta, you know any songs from Dryl?” Scorpia shouted up the mast at the older woman.

Lifting her welding mask, Entrapta looked down at them, almost confused. One would think no one had ever asked her what kinds of songs her country had before. “Well, there was one song my robot-parents used to sing for me…” She confessed. Tapping her chin with her hair, it look her a moment to recall the lyrics. Then she started snapping her fingers, the glove muting the sound slightly.

“Do, do, do, woah… Arrow of entro~opic time. “Oh, arrow of entropic time. “If you made a scrambled egg tonight, “There’d be no return to yoke and white. “And when it’s fried you, can’t go back to raw food. “Structure decomposes ‘til it’s gone. “Hots spots cool and entropy grows on. “My lab was cleaner, now looks like Mantisours been there. “Not my fault, blame it on entropic time.”

She petered out as she realized that the others were not enjoying her song quite as much as they did the others. All except Dak. They appeared to be gazing up at her, hanging on every lyric. They, at least, appreciated a bouncy do-op song about science. Entrapta appreciated them just a little bit more.

Imp jumped up on Swift Wind’s back and screeched for everyone to pay attention to him now. He wasn’t just a highly advanced AI and audio file and data storage unit. He had music in him too! Hode made sure to save some song files to him.

“I am not a stage.” Swift Wind informed the flying germline. He might have bucked a bit to get the wined troll of himself. But he couldn’t do so without kicking someone else, they were so cramped on the deck of the ship. So, the horse ruffled his wings and resigned himself to being Imp’s sounding platform.

The deamon opened his mouth and began a recording he never thought he’d ever find a relevant moment to play.

“Are you recording?” Came a voice that sounded remarkably like Hordak’s but… not quite Hordak’s. There was a bit of feedback and a squawk that sounded a bit like Imp’s own voice answering the speaker. “Well, blink or something. I can never tell when you’re recoding. Anyway…”

There was the sound of a few strings being plucked experimentally. Then the plucking melted into an almost haunting melody. Then the voice that sounded like Hordak, but couldn’t possibly be Hordak began to sing.

“If we should lose the fight, “Light’s Hope burns ever brighter. “One hundred days and nights, “Engines, pistons form a choir.

“If blood should stain the skies, “As waxing stars re-ignite. “From Despondent dark they rise, “And strike a chord of steel and light.”

“Nobody wants to hear your crapping Horde songs!” Micah cut him off abruptly. He swatted at the little deamon, whom fell off the horse’s back.

Imp gave an indignant squawk. It wasn’t a Horde song. The Horde had no songs. It was a rebel song. From a rebel world. Taught to Hode by a rebel leader.

Clearing his throat, Sea Hawk drew everyone’s attention to him. “Land’s coming into view. I just wanna confirm, I’m just dropping you guys off close to the Crimson Wastes, and then Micah and I are continuing on the Brightmoon alone.”

Adora and Entrapta nodded.

As She-Ra, Adora could not let ship of the previous She-Ra fall into enemy hands.

While Entrapta was fascinated and excited to study a First One’s craft that could travel between worlds.

Bow, Dak, and Scorpia were tagging along with them for their own personal reasons.

Sea Hawk was going to make sure King Micah finally got home to his daughter.

#hordak #catra #entrapta #king micah #scorpia #bow #dak #imp #swift wind #entrapta/hordak #entrapdak #entrapdak kid #clone baby au #songs #a song of steel and light

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beans-and-rice101 · 6 years

Text

Merry Christmas

Prompt: Imagine being the Christmas Gift Master for the Avengers or the Justice League. - @darkshadow3942

DISCLAIMER!!! I DO NOT PRETEND TO KNOW WHAT IT'S LIKE TO LIVE WITH SOCIAL ANXIETY/BEING INTROVERTED!! I DO NOT PRETEND TO KNOW WHAT IT IS LIKE TO LIVE WITH A SPEECH IMPEDIMENT!! MY KNOWLEDGE ON BOTH SUBJECTS IS INFORMATION I HAVE GATHERED FROM UNRELIABLE SOURCES! however i am lazy and can't be bothered to do research rn SO IF WHAT I'VE WRITTEN IS INCORRECT OR MAKES YOU FEEL UNCOMFORTABLE OR UPSET PLEASE FEEL FREE TO LEAVE A RESPECTFUL COMMENT!!

So this is actually completely wrong when compared to the prompt but I took creative license so fuck you. Also it's way late for Kringle but WHO CARES. I worked pretty hard on this so be gentle?

~~~

"T-Tinsel? Check. Tree? Check-k. Obnoxious self-sus-sustaining Christm-m-mas lights? Check. Met-t-ticulously crafted gingerb-bread houses that n-no one w-w-will eat because I w-work for a t-t-t-team of ungrateful sh-shits? Ch-Check." You placed the clipboard down after ticking the last box. You had volunteered as Christmas organizer this year as Pepper was busy trying to convince Mr Stark to leave her pregnant ass alone for five minutes. Worst. Decision. EVER.

You had decided(in your naive eagerness) to invite not-really-Avengers as well because you pitied Quill when he tried to explain the concept of Christmas to the Guardians. Plus you wanted to meet the Spider-Man that Mr Stark had been fussing over. God that man needed to chill. You had only hoped he would relax enough this past week for you to get everything done. Hardly. But no use dwelling on the horrors of unpaid apprenticeship! You still had a lot of work to do. Let's see... Hang up the tinsel and assorted decorations, figure out how to attach the lights to the top of the compound, hide the food from Clint and Thor, pick up the order of mince pies from Bow's and Holly's Bakery, be at the airport at 10:00am sharp to recieve Mr Stark and Mrs Potts, arrange the assigned rooms for the Wakandan and spacefaring guests... God... What were you forgetting!?

You pulled out your phone and look back through your notes for the day. Ah, yes. Pick up Peter. Peter? Oh, right, Peter Parker. Spider-Man. Happy was away with family - who were invited to join, but declined - in California. This left you with the additional task of either driving Mr Stark to meetings and seminars or organizing for chauffeurs. You honestly preferred the latter, but To-Mr Stark always insisted on paying you for the ride. Plus, he wasn't that bad as travelling partners went. In fact, for the co-CEO of a multi-billion dollar company, Mr Stark is pretty cool. He isn't without his snark and a certain level of entitlement; and occasionally forgets that people like you live under different circumstances, but all in all, not the worst boss. Certainly better than the one that pays you.

Lost in thought, you very nearly ran into someone. Looking up at the person steadying you, you swallowed loudly at the sight of Steve Rogers. You smiled weakly and mumbled an apology as you looked down at your watch. "Oh sh-shit!"

"Uhh..?" Your gaze snaps back to Steve, who looks more than a little worried by your outburst. "Everything alri-?"

"I'M SORRY I HAVE TO GO THANKS FOR THE CHAT BYE!!" You sprinted past him; later you were informed that this was when you dropped your phone, but at the time your thoughts lay with the fact that it was 9:45am and you had to get your ass in gear.

You barely got to the airport as Mr Stark's plane was set to land. He and Mrs Potts had insisted on flying to San Francisco themselves to pick up Eddie Brock - Mr Stark's newest "find", whom he was as of yet, unsure of. Mr Brock had agreed on the condition that he stayed in a hotel of his choosing as opposed to the compound. Whether that was a lack of trust in you, Tony or himself, you weren't certain. Whatever the case, you didn't mind, as it was one less room for you to organize. As you contemplated Mr Brock, you turned up the radio, listening to the Christmassy songs.

Despite your responsibilities this year, you still found that you enjoyed Christmas. There was something about the cheesiness of it all. How over the top people would get, going to such great lengths to prove their Christmas Spirit. You were content with spending most Christmases by yourself, but lately you had been wondering what Christmas would be like when spent with someone. Don't be mistaken, you had plenty of memories with your family, and they stayed in touch, but it had been years since you had been home for Christmas. Your thoughts moved to the Avengers. Superheroes, secret agents, goody-goodies the whole lot of 'em. Most days, you found it hard to understand how so many different people could share a space... Maybe you envied them... You weren't much older than Peter Parker, but you would never consider to include you in the superhero equation.. You tried to convince yourself that you wouldn't belong, anyway. You had nothing to contribute; aside from coffee, bad jokes and a stutter that even your family couldn't decipher.

The car door opening jolted you out of your thoughts, and you looked over to see Mrs Potts sliding into the seat next to you. "How's planning going?"

"...How d-do you d-d-do it?" Mrs Potts laughed. After Mr Stark and Mr Brock were seated, you began the drive back to the compound. Along the way, you stayed mostly silent - unless it was to correct dates and names Mr Stark got wrong that Mrs Potts missed - and listened to the conversation. It was clear, at least to you, that there was both an air of caution from Mr Brock towards Mrs Potts, and a faint tint of distrust in Mr Stark's words to Mr Brock. You had never thought to ask why Mr Brock was of such interest to the billionaire, and from the air between the two men, you didn't intend to pry. You, personally, thought Mr Brock was quite polite, if a little blunt. He thought to include you in conversation, despite barely knowing you for a minute. When you started driving him to the hotel, preceding dropping off Mrs Potts and Mr Stark(who seemed hesitant to leave the two of you alone...), Mr Brock seemed to grow more closed off. You supposed he didn't want to distract you; or perhaps he didn't care.

With the lack of conversation, aside from occasional directions from Mr Brock, you started zoning out again. There was no point in returning to the compound straight after dropping him off. You would only have 20 minutes, then, to spare before it was time to go pick up Peter. Mr Parker? Should you address him formally as well? He was maybe two months older than you. You supposed it was better to be safe than sorry, but something about it felt wrong...

"Thank you for the lift." You nodded, smiling at Mr Brock as he got out of the car. "It was n-n-no problem, M-M-M-M-..." You sighed, giving up. You just nodded again. Mr Brock pulled his suitcase out of the trunk himself, waving off the doorman. You leaned out the side window, taking a moment to figure out your words before speaking. "I'll be b-b-back-ack at 6:15. Is that-at okay?" Mr Brock copied your earlier action before stepping back from the curb. You waved at him as you pulled away, contemplating what to do. You supposed you should at least pick up those pies from the bakery. In fact, it wasn't too far from Mr Parker's address... Nope. Didn't like it.

The bakery smelled fresh and the air was warm, compared to the snow outside. You rubbed your hands together, regretting not wearing thicker clothes. "Order for Mr T-T-T-Tony St-t-Stark?" The barista looked through the boxes and picked up a large cream one with clear plastic on the top so you could see the treats inside. You smiled thanks and regretted not returning the "Merry Christmas!" that followed you out into the cold. You sighed, taking a moment to look around. The street you were on wasn't too busy, and the shops were cheerful enough, but it seemed you were destined to be in a mournful mood this afternoon. You checked the time. 12:42pm. Not too bad on time. You decided to keep the pies in the back so that you weren't tempted to eat them. You had cookies at home that you could snack on.

Pulling up at the Parkers' house, you braced yourself for conversation. "Hi. I'm here for P-P-Peter Park-k-ker." Ehh. It was understandable. That was what you told yourself as you rung the doorbell. You heard the sound of footsteps(sprinting??) approaching the door, and it swung open to reveal a boy with a cheery smile and messy brown hair. He yelled goodbye to someone inside, before hauling his backpack to the car. He was already in when you got there. Oh boy...

"So... You work with Mr Stark, too?"

"For. I work-k for Mr St-tark."

"Oh. Right. So... You've met the other Avengers? Like... Personally?" The dreaded question. You shifted slightly, preparing the words on your tongue. "N-no. Not p-p-personally. I only work-k for Mist-ter Stark."

"Oh." Peter looked out the window. Oh God... You knew what he was thinking about. Here it comes- "So... Is your stutter, like, a speech impediment?" You sighed quietly. "Yes, it's a sp-peech imp-p-p-pe-pe-RRAA!" You slammed the breaks in frustration, skidding a little. You took a deep breath, and turned to Peter, who looked more than a little shocked. "I understa-tand that you have qu-questions, and this is p-p-probably your first-t t-t-t-t-... Your first ex-per-i-ence-" You said the word slowly. "-with someone lik-ke me. But I have answered these que-questions too man-n-n-n-ny times before. P-p-please do not ask-k anymore." Peter had the conscience to look apologetic and he nodded in understanding. "Okay. I promise not to ask anymore questions like that."

"Thank you."

You arrived back at the compound at about 3:08pm, and watched Peter run over to greet Mr Stark. As soon as you had started driving again, you felt guilty for snapping. You were grateful to Peter for being the civil one and apologizing, and you knew he crossed a line... Forget it. He apologized and you forgave him. He even offered to take the pies in, so you guessed there were no hard feelings. Anyway, back to doing your job which, funnily enough, didn't include yelling at superheroes.

You had 2 hours before you had to go pick up Mr Brock, so you decided to run back to your apartment and amuse yourself until then. You had all but given up on completing your other tasks. The Avengers would simply have to put up the tree themselves. You would apologize tomorrow. You hoped Tony would understand...

Your apartment was kinda chaotic, but you were pretty decent at keeping things in the area they belonged, so it wasn't too hard to navigate. It also meant you were less likely to lose something valuable if you were broken into. You pondered this as you prepared a simple sandwich for yourself. The ideal Christmas dinner. At least munching on it gave your mouth something to do. You checked the time. 5:41pm. You supposed you could leave now and pick Mr Brock up early. Or wait outside for him.

You decided on the former, as you realized the latter made it seem like you were here for suspicious reasons. You found out from the front desk where he was staying and took the stairs to avoid people. Mr Brock's room wasn't difficult to find. You knocked. Inside, there came a sound like a wounded animal. You grew worried, as Mr Brock's voice sounded deeper when he answered. "Yes?"

"Uh, hi. It's m-me, ag-gain. I hope I'm n-n-not intrud-ding, bu-but I had t-t-time to spare s-so..." You trailed off as the room behind the door grew quiet. "M-Mr Brock..?" Getting no response still, you knock again. The door swings open to reveal... Mr Brock. He looks a tad more shabby and a bit nervous, but he smiles anyway. You recover your professionalism and return the smile. "I've pu-parked the c-car out the fron-nt. I hope you d-d-don't mind, b-but I'd like t-t-t-... The evening to m-myself." Mr Brock looks confused. "You're not going to the party?"

"I'm n-not an Avenger."

"Neither am I." You huff. "I d-don't work WITH Mist-ter Stark-k. I'm his assis-sis-sis-..."

"Assistant."

"...Yeah..." You give him a tight-lipped smile and gesture back to the stairwell. "I'm g-gonna wait in the c-c-car..." Mr Brock nods, turning back to his room. "I won't be long."

Indeed he wasn't. You were only sitting in the car for 10 minutes before Mr Brock slid in behind you, looking only slightly less disheveled. But he was in a suit, and you'd seen Mr Stark look worse, so you started driving. The car ride is much like before, only you occasionally catch Mr Brock muttering intensely to himself. Odd. Now that you think about it, Mr Brock seems to be absent of many common traits among the people Mr Stark tends to recruit. Perhaps that was the reason for the underlying hostility between the two. Mr Brock certainly makes you slightly anxious. But you boil that down to second hand stress on his behalf. Checking the time again - 6:12 pm - you force yourself to calm down. If Mr Stark trusted this man enough to allow him around his pregnant wife, surely he's safe enough to share a car with.

You pull up to the compound and smile encouragingly at Mr Brock. He returns it and nods in gratitude before getting out. You watch him stumble up the stairs, a distant part of you wishing you could join in. Inside looks so happy and bright. Such a distant, alien world to you. So far out of your reach. Held within your sight by one man who, while friendly enough, barely acknowledges your existence. These people are far removed from you. The good they do surpasses your life. This is what you force yourself to remember, and you wipe the tears from your eyes.

The drive home is difficult, to say the least. What with the tears in your eyes, and the pull you feel back towards the party, you're surprised the car moves at all.

Your apartment is cold when you arrive. Not only due to the obvious symbolism of how lonely you are, but also because you forgot to leave the heater on. You don't care much, though. After everything, you just want to crawl into bed. At least there, you can dream. You can return to the party, to be greeted by smiling faces, all of them delighted at your arrival. There, you can exist in the world you crave. Part of a family that stretches through space.

There, you might just have a Merry Christmas.

#prompt writing #darkshadow i'm sorry #avengers #christmas #venom #guardians of the galaxy #doctor strange #this is fucking sad you're welcome #ugh #i have issues with christmas

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arbutus-blossoms · 7 years

Photo

Summary: Belle French sat in the mayor’s office in dismay. After months of city hall meetings and petitions, she was about to receive funding for repairs to the library from an anonymous patron. However, there is a condition to the deal: she is require to write a letter once a week to this mysterious benefactor.

Notes: Rated M // This is a parody/inspired of the Novel “Daddy Long Legs” by Jean Webster and influenced by Parks and Recreation. Thanks to poca-staks & theoneandonlylittlebird for the beta and feedback. Dedicating this to my friend ( You know who you are ) // Please be gentle, this is my first time writing.

Chapter 1

“ Do you know why you are here?” Regina asked.

Isabelle French shifted uncomfortably and nodded hesitantly.

She had been trying to set up a meeting with Regina for the past few months in vain. For some unexplainable reason, she received a call yesterday evening from City Hall, informing her that she was to meet with the mayor the following day at 10am sharp.

Belle had been working as the chief librarian for the past few months. She enjoyed her job, she was perfectly content with her position thank you very much. However, as the weeks passed, she began noticing that the library was in desperate need of repairs.

“ Is it about my Library Renewal project proposal?” she asked.

“ Yes, you’ve cited that the library needed a makeover if I remember?” Regina replies as she sipped her coffee.

Belle snorted, “ Makeover? Mam, the water fountains don’t even work properly. There are a few leaks in the ceiling, the air conditioning that barely works, the missing floor tiles in the washroom. I can go on. Pardon me, we don’t even have computers. What kind of library in 2005 doesn’t have computers with proper access to the internet? We really need these repairs at the very least if we are to keep our patrons happy.”

Regina rolled her eyes, “ What patrons? The elderly and the few children who come in with their gossiping mothers?”

“ Those elderly and gossiping mothers are part of your core voters. I suggest that you make them happy if you want to be re-elected for another term.” Belle retorted.

“ Oh dear, you really are something else. Touché Miss French.” The mayor chuckled as she slip a thick file towards Belle. “ You are in luck. A very generous patron has indeed decided to step in and donate a substantial amount to the Storybrooke Library.”

The librarian’s eyes grew wide as she quickly scanned the contents in the folder and found the amount of the donation along with other documentation. It was more than what she could hope for.

“ However, the benefactor in question, has an unorthodox request from you. Oh, don’t worry it’s nothing illegal I assure you. First of all, this person wishes to remain anonymous. Secondly, the bizarre request is that you are required to write to them once a week.”

Belle had many questions she wanted to ask Regina, but she decided to keep her mouth shut and let the mayor continue.

“ You will be writing to said benefactor until the completion of the project. In addition, there is another guideline for these letters.” The Mayor informed her as she leaned back into her chair.

“ Your patron will be not required to write to you back. You may give them updates or reports on the library repairs I suppose. The amount that they have donated should cover the repairs you have requested, along with minor upgrades. If there is any money left, there should be enough money for a few computers and obviously new books. I assume that you can take care of this along with your regular librarian duties?”

The young librarian nodded quickly as she sat in the mayor’s office in dismay. Finally, she summoned all of her courage to reply. “ You have my word mam. I will do the utmost to maintain my duties on top of managing this project.”

Belle suddenly had a thought and took a chance to ask the woman sitting behind her imposing mahogany desk. “ With respect Mrs. Mills, how shall I address this person? It’s hard enough for me to start a conversation with a total stranger, yet you want me to communicate with someone who has no name? Does this patron have a nickname or even a code name I could use while addressing to them?” She asked nervously.

Regina sat there for a few minutes, took a sip of her now cold coffee and mumbled something that was out of her earshot . Finally, the woman’s lips formed a peculiar grin.

“ Address them as Rumplestiltskin .”

Belle blinked, “ You mean, that imp in that fairy tale that makes devilish deals?”

“Yes. It's an inside joke between the two of us.” Regina chuckled and then continued.

“Now, as I was saying, the address for the benefactor is in the file. Don't bother getting all excited, it’s a postal box is located in another town. Before you leave, there is something else that I also need to inform you.”

Regina paused for a moment as if contemplating her next choice of words.

“ Mr. Gold, one of our retired City managers, has been assigned to assist you in this endeavor. I am not trying to undermine you, on the contrary, it is simply because Mr. Gold has over a decade of experience overseeing public projects for this town. We thought that it would be beneficial for you to let him guide you with the planning, getting the right permits and such.”

“Of course, I am grateful for any help or advice I can get.” Belle said and quickly put the thick file into her bag.

She had heard many rumors about this Mr. Gold ever since she moved into Storybrooke. Monster of Storybrooke. The Devil. Crocodile. Despite all the gossip, she has had never actually met the man in question.

The only thing she knew about Mr. Gold is that he was Bae’s father. Bae was a teenager had started to frequent the library quite often for the past few months. Although, she had bonded with Bae over various subjects, especially on the Harry Potter book series, she has yet heard him talk about his infamous father. She didn’t dare push the subject any further. In her mind, it was best to wait until the teen himself broached on the subject.

“ Now don’t forget Miss. French. One letter a week to this benefactor, or the deal is off. Surely you can manage that? ”

French Residence, April 6th, 2005

Dear sir or madam,

Please allow me to thank you again for the generous gift you have bestowed upon our small city of Storybrooke.

Regina Mills has briefed me of your generous offer in exchange of a weekly letter from me. I must admit, your condition to this deal is quite peculiar and vexing. It is an easy request, but I find it unfair. I am not a very fascinating person and I have no idea how to even start this endeavor. It is hard to communicate with someone you are indebted to, who will not be replying your letters and on top of knowing absolutely nothing about!

Luckily (or not) , Mrs. Mills has given me the nickname Rumplestiltskin for me to use when addressing to you.

Is she implying that you are some kind of creature, who preys upon unsuspecting villagers and loves making shady deals? ( This is why I plead to you to write to me back if you detest this nickname and would like a change for better one. Perhaps the Phantom of Storybrooke?)

Otherwise, we could start off with an introduction?

My name is Isabelle French. I recently moved to Storybrooke a few months ago to work as a librarian. I love tea, reading and I will admit to you right here and now, that I absolutely adore Harry Potter.

Now that I have introduced myself, I hope that you will extend the same courtesy towards me.

If not, I would like to thank you again for your generous donation.( I cannot thank you enough and you cannot fault me on that ). There are many things that need repairing in our small library and your monetary contribution will aid us greatly to revitalise it.

Mayor Mills also suggested that I give you updates on the project every week.

Well, I am expected to meet a Mr. Gold ( A retired City Manager rumored to be some sort of monster by the townsfolk, which I find amusing ) tomorrow morning.

Although, when I started petitioning to receive funding for the repairs, I never expected to receive help from city management. I admit, that I can take care of regular library management with ease.

But on top of those duties, there will be floorplans to discuss, consulting contractors, scheduling repairs, getting permits and much more. I must confess to you, that I am a bit anxious about all of this, however, this project is so dear to me. I will certainly welcome any feedback and suggestions Mr. Gold might present to me.

I will certainly double my efforts, so that the citizens of Storybrooke will have the best library experience I can offer.

Sadly, I must bid you goodnight, as it is very late, and I do not want to miss my meeting with Mr. Gold. First impressions are important are they not?

Yours respectfully, Isabelle French

Storybrooke Library April 13th, 2005

Dear Rumplestiltskin,

Do you live in Storybrooke? Do you care for gossip?

If so, please indulge me and let me rant to you about my meeting with that city manager Mr Gold, whom I assure you,must be the most unagreeable person that I have ever met.

I made sure that morning to put an effort into my attire. Wanting to look more professional than usual. I figured, a pencil skirt and a creamy chiffon blouse would do the trick.

Well, Mr. Gold arrived at my desk yesterday morning, gaped at me like a fish! Did I look that appalling to him? ( I have heard rumours that he was wealthy. Apparently, this fellow owns half of the buildings in Storybrooke ).

I must say, he looked quite intimidating, wearing a fitting suit and leaning onto his cane. Willingly or not, I instantly felt inferior to him as I stood there wearing discounted clothing from JC Penny.

The man finally recovered himself, and introduced himself promptly.

Like any civilised person, I tried to offer him a cup of coffee, but he immediately asked to tour the building! ( Seriously, who refuses an offer of coffee? )

Before I can even gather myself properly, he had already started looking at every nook and cranny in the library. Asking me questions, telling me to write down every single observation throughout the ordeal. Every time I would try to say something, he would quickly moved onto another area.

I honestly felt more like an assistant than a partner.

In the end, he noticed there were quite of few places that needs to be repaired that I must have missed because, and I quote his exact words:

“ Well, I know more than you Dearie. Unless you happen to have any experience in managing buildings on top of those librarian skills Miss French? ”

Oh. I wanted to strangle him.

Behaviour aside, I must admit that he is an excellent planner.

After two long hours, we managed to sort the list of items that urgently needs repairing, the time that would be necessary for its completion, and the complexity of it as well. We will be meeting again next week and in the meantime, he gave me a list of contractors in the city and its surrounding areas, expecting me to call each and one of them to schedule for an estimate of all these repairs.

Have you ever met a man like this Rumplestiltskin? A man you immediately respect and admire but at the same time tests your patience?

Yours, a frustrated Isabelle French

#Rumbelle #Rumplestiltskin #Mr. Gold #Belle French #Mr. Gold x Belle #I have no idea of what I am doing #@poca-staks #@theoneandonlylittlebird #OK BYE #Im going to hide #AB Writes #Rumbelle fanfic

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