Pantalone Becomes a REAL Fanfic Writer!!

Unexpected Visitors and Rude Awakenings.

It all started when Pantalone's state of focus was shattered by a deep-voiced yell from the other room. Of course, it was the most ideal time for Dottore to need something from him. His imagination was fragile and his patience thin. He swore to himself to make this as quick as possible.

But between Pantalone's pointless yapping and Dottore's ADHD, this "quick" meeting ended up lasting almost two hours.

And now he was scurrying back to his office to hastily finish the rest of the document before his deadline.

He closed to door behind him with a sigh. Okay, he had about three hours to finish two stacks and—

"Hey, mind keepin' that open? I'm almost done in here." Said a familiar, higher-pitched voice. Pantalone turned to meet the violet gaze of Scaramouche.

"Ah! Balladeer... strange seeing you here— wait, what exactly are you doing lurking around my office, anyway?"

"Dottore sent me to fetch something for him."

"Fetch what?"

"Not important. What is important, however." He held up the flimsy piece of paper engraved in the lead draft of chapter 4 of Pantalone's fanfic.

His muscles completely froze in place for a solid ten seconds.

"What the fuck Balladeer? Why the fuck would you go rummaging through other people's things? Oh, please don't tell me you read it.." He whined.

Scaramouche nonchalantly pulled out the other chapters.

"I read it. It helped rid my boredom for a while." He smirked.

"DAMN IT!"

"Seriously, Ninth. I didn't know you were into this type of shit. Does Dottore know about this?"

"No he doesn't. So keep your loud-ass mouth shut for once please."

A devious grin graced Scaramouche's round face.

"Don't you even dare."

"And what're you gonna do to stop me?"

"Blackmail you."

Scaramouche's face screwed up.

"Huh? Blackmail me?"

"Don't play dumb. I can easily pry sensitive information about you out of Dottore."

"And if he refuses?"

"Then I'll blackmail him."

"Blackmail him? How laughable."

"Listen, theres a lot more that I know about him than you do, or any of the others."

"You're threatening blackmail quite a bit. Don't have the balls to use any other technique, hm?"

"Shut up. It's effective."

"If ya say so..."

"Anyway.. we are straying way off topic. You know that it is extremely disrespectful to go rummaging through others' belongings. Regardless of their status. Why, I ought to tell Dottore and have him—"

"Do you plan on writing smut?" Scaramouche asked with a smirk.

Pantalone's eyes widened, as if they werw about to bulge out of his head. It was a quite comical sight.

"Well? Are you?"

"What does it matter!?" He hissed.

"Oh, so you are? Oh, please tell me when this is finished because I've got to read that freaky shit."

"You are most certainly not getting your hands on the final piece."

"We'll see about that." He said, rising from his seat on Pantalone's office chair.

"So, this is for an event at the Yae Publishing House? Can't believe you fell under her trance, too."

"Do you know her?" He cocked an eyebrow. Scaramouche scoffed.

"Yeah, she's a bitch..." He groaned.

"—She was my mother's girlfriend. At least , last I knew."

"Your mother is a lesbian?"

Scaramouche glared at him.

"I didn't mean it in a bad way! I was just.. curious."

"Yeah, and I didn't know that my abuser was into guys, or even dating, for that matter. And I also didn't know that he'd end up marrying a whiny bitch boy. But sometimes things just aren't how they seem, aren't they?"

Pantalone rolled his eyes and walked over to his file cabinet, begrudgingly accepting Scaramouche's presence. He skimmed between the labels on each file.

316... 327... 402...

These were way off. He began to pull some out to reorganize them.

"Y'know, at first glance, I thought you were just some ordinary dude. Ya know, when I first joined? Yeah.. that backfired pretty quickly."

Dear Tsarista, what was he babbling on about now?

"When I found out about your involvement with The Doctor, I realized that there really was no hope in this shithole. Everyone is beyond fucked up."

Pantalone frowned, slotting a file in between two others.

345... 346... 347...

Scaramouche leaned against the doorframe.

"Well, enough of that. Dottore's probably gonna beat the shit out of me when I get back." He mumbled.

"On another note," He began with a slight chuckle. "Notify me when that 'fan-fiction' is done."

Pantalone scowled at him.

"So long, sucker." The door shut with a click sound.

...

Wait.. is he referring to—

Pantalone shook his head, laying out a few more disorganized files.

...

When I found out about your involvement with The Doctor, I realized that there really was no hope in this shithole. Everyone is beyond fucked up.

Damn, okay. What the fuck did he do to him?

On the other hand...

That scrawny little puppet must have gone to hell and back through Dottore's experiments. He certainly has the right to feel that way.

At the same time, fuck that puppet. Dottore's hotter, anyway.

He stepped back and admired the two newly organized shleves. He could do the rest, later.

He glanced back at the yellow-tinted sheet of paper.

...

Wait a minute, he never caught what exactly Scaramouche took from his office. Goddamn it, now he's sending minions in to smuggle mora!?

"DOTTORE! GET YOUR ASS IN HERE!"