The Big Book of One-Shots

Convention.

AN- So, I had an idea where all of my OC's would hang out at a sort of club in my head (or in the ginormous whole they blew in the 4th wall XD) and then I picked the person who would be most freaked out by this as the new guy.

   I opened my eyes warily. I didn't understand where I was or what was happening, but it somehow felt,... familiar? Like I knew instinctively but couldn't process it. As I looked around, I found that I was in a room that was mostly taken up a table and chairs. I was sitting in one of the chairs. Something similar to a small chandelier hung not to far from my head, but instead of candles it just had very bright balls of light. Magic?

I could hear a large group of people behind me, breathing softly in an attempt to be quiet. Had the Romans discovered that I was alive and captured me? It was the only reason I could think of to wake up in a strange place which was definitely not Màthair's home. But something deep in my mind told me that wasn't it. Of course, that same voice wanted to tell me that the people behind me were friendly, so it probably wasn't that reliable.

I heard someone whisper, "What fandom is he from?". What the Tartarus was a 'fandom'? Seeing no more point in ignoring them and extremely curious as to what was happening, he turned around.

To a room full of oddly dressed women.

They seemed range in age from maybe 15-20ish winters. The vast majority were 15 or 16. Most of them seemed to be dressed in something like a very short tunic that stopped near their hips and a pair of trousers made of an unfamiliar blue material. So, looked like the Roman army was off the list of who captured me.

The room they were in had a blanket chest in the center and 3 pieces of padded bench-like furniture. The room was full of women, sitting and standing. Their posture suggested they had been chatting amongst themselves, but now they were silent and staring at me.

I stared right back, refusing to back down, at least on the outside. Inside, despite the voice telling me that they were friendly, I saw myself largely outnumbered by a group that seemed to radiate power, and I wasn't dumb enough to think that any of that was negated by the fact that they were female. I was terrified.

I was about ready to break the staring contest and search for an escape route when one brunette spoke up and repeated the question he'd heard earlier. "What fandom are you from?"

"What is a fandom?"I asked before realizing something. We weren't speaking Latin or Gaelic. I didn't know what language I was speaking, but it felt foreign to my tongue yet natural to my mind. This. Is. So. Strange.

The brunette gave me an odd look before gasping and turning to her friends and announcing excitedly, "I think he's an original!". Before I could respond and yet again ask what she was talking about she turned to me and glared, "You haven't even introduced yourself to readers yet!".

I'm not sure why, but when she said that, I stopped thinking about the women or the room around me so much. I just started thinking about me. My name is Braonan. I am a Galli "barbarian" and a deserter from the Roman army. I was a spy for one of the clans, but then I faked my death so I could go home. My bràthair and my best friend stayed behind, the former as a loyal Roman soldier, the latter as my replacement. I have raven hair shaved close to my head, tanned skin, broad shoulders, decent height, and lean muscle.

I snapped out of my thoughts as I saw everyone staring at me again. They seemed to be waiting patiently for something. As I wondered what they wanted, a flash of red crossed my peripheral vision. I turned my head towards the hall and saw, "Rhea!" I broke into a grin. The red-headed Atheanian was one of the best friends and the one who ran letters for my family. She was also what one might have called my "handler" when I was spying on the Roman army.