Dear Readers,

I apologize for taking so incredibly long to update this! But after a random bout of inspiration, it's back. In case you haven't noticed already, some of these oneshots are AU and/or futureset. Thanks again for reviewing; I hope you like these next few.

Best regards from a Bookworm (and Tesla fangirl),

Miss Pookamonga ;p

M: Marriage

"MAWAGE," the Impressive Clergyman drawls from the television set. "Mawage is what has brought us togedder today…"

"Dear lord," mutters the man sitting beside Helen on the couch. "I sincerely hope this doesn't happen."

She turns and furrows her brows inquisitively at him. "What do you mean?"

Instead of providing a typical cheeky answer, he merely lifts an eyebrow at the question and distinctly directs his gaze towards her robe pocket before returning his attention to the television.

She frowns and looks down at the indicated pocket in confusion. When she slips her fingers inside, she finds, to her surprise, that there is a rather oddly shaped object stuffed inside it. Intrigued, she draws out a crumpled ball of old, faded paper. She gives her companion a sideways glance, but he pretends not to notice and continues staring intently at the television screen. Shaking her head, she pulls the wrinkled mass of paper apart—

—and gasps quite loudly.

She stares at the silver ring for one long, stunned moment before lifting her eyes to meet his.

And suddenly, in that moment, something clicks. Maybe it is the vulnerability and the fear of uncertainty and rejection shining in his blue eyes, or maybe it is the way his unruly hair is sticking up at odd angles, or maybe it is the way she can feel his hands trembling next to her knee … or maybe it is something far deeper than any of those things. Whatever it is, it compels her move forward and crash her lips into his, gracing him with a long, drawn-out kiss.

"Yes," she breathes against his mouth after pulling away.

And then she notices that in the heat of the moment, the ring has shot up from the paper to stick to the bottom of his chin.

N: No

"No."

He groans in frustration and turns his head to frown at his wife. "Darling, how am I supposed to know what he wants if all he does is say 'no' every time I ask something?"

"It's a phase. You know kids. The minute they learn the word, all they want to do is say it constantly to annoy people," she answers nonchalantly without even looking up from her present task.

"I fail to see how that's going to help me."

"Figure it out. Use your doggie instincts." He rolls his eyes at the term he's gotten so used to hearing from her. She doesn't notice. "I'm going to the kitchen to fill up another bottle." Without so much as a glance in his direction, she stands up and exits the room.

Sighing, he redirects his attention to the wide-eyed little boy in front of him. "Your mom…" He shakes his head. "Okay, buddy, can you please just make this easy for Daddy? Which toy do you want to take with you?" Silence. He sighs again and holds up one of the choices unenthusiastically. "The truck?"

"No."

He puts it down and picks up the other choice. "Teddy?"

"No."

"Rattle, Mr. Squeaky, whaddya want?" he moans.

"No."

"Augh, I give up! KA-ATE!"

O: Orphan

The Suarezes had been nice. Maybe a bit old to have a ten-year-old under their wing, but they were good. They'd been kind to him—the kindest any family who'd cared for him in the past two years had been.

But like all the others, they couldn't take care of him forever.

So here he was, back at St. Hedwig's Home for Children for the umpteenth time, awaiting the day when a family would come that could finally take him home for good.

"Will?"

He looked up to see Sister Louise gazing down at him in concern. "Yes?" He hated his voice. It sounded so small. So … weak.

"How are you doing?"

The old nun he had come to know and love like a grandmother slowly took a seat next to him on the bench. In the background, the other children romped joyously, enjoying their lively game of tag on the playground, but to him, their existence was in a world far away from his own.

"I'm okay, I guess."

Sister Louise placed a hand gently on his shoulder, a gesture he had become quite familiar with. A small wave of comfort rippled through him at it, and he suddenly felt that connection with the kind Sister tugging at him once again, as it always did when she was around. She was the only real constant in his life. His stronghold. His protector. She was the only person who had really ever made him feel truly safe since the … accident.

"You don't have to lie to me, Will."

That was another thing he loved about Sister Louise. She never sugarcoated anything. It was always the blunt, honest truth with her, even if sometimes that truth wasn't something people particularly wanted to face. If people lied, she could read them like a book and somehow always draw the truth out of them in the end.

"Well … I guess I'm …"

"Feeling let down again, huh?"

He sighed. "Yeah." Pause. Then he turned to look intently into her tender grey eyes, a question forming on his tongue. It was a question that had been nagging at him, torturing him for two years, but he had never had the courage to say it out loud until now. "Sister Louise, do you think I'll ever be … be a … a normal kid again?"

The kind nun's eyes darkened in sympathy for him, and the hand on his shoulder tightened in a reassuring squeeze. "William, you are a normal kid. It doesn't matter where you end up living or who you live with or how long it takes to get there. Things will work out for the best. Trust me." Then she looked down at the rosary draped across her hand and let out a little chuckle. "I've got God on my side," she said with a smile, lifting the crystal beads up so that they caught the light and sparkled with a million tiny rainbows. Will had always loved that rosary. "You're number one on that notoriously long prayer list."

Will let out a small chuckle of his own at that, feeling suddenly at ease again. "I guess I'm covered then."

Sister Louise extended her arm around both his shoulders and pulled him towards her in a tight hug. "Oh, you're covered, all right," she said, still smiling. "Covered for life."

P: Purpose

"There is a purpose to each of your Gifts. Use them wisely, and you will be able to unlock the secrets of this universe that science has failed to discover since the dawn of time. Misuse them, however, and you will bring down a curse upon you that will cause you and those you love more pain than you can possibly imagine."

Gregory Magnus' words echoed deafeningly in his mind as he stared blankly into the dark pool of blood soaking his feet. It hadn't been his choice, he told himself. It was the … thing inside him that drove him now, forcing him to act against his will. He had repeated the same lie over and over in every dead silence that had followed the bloodcurdling screams of terror and agony, those shrieks that had ripped through the night like his knife had ripped through their owners' flesh.

But no matter how hard he had tried to convince himself that the blame lay elsewhere, in the end he was forced to confront the horrifying truth.

It was his fault. He had let it control him.

He had misused his Gift. And soon, very soon, he knew the curse would pounce from the shadows to devour his soul forever.