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signalwatch · 1 year

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20 Years of Blogging, Part 2 - Together, We're a League of Something!

Editor's note: This is Part 2 of a series. You can view the first part with just the click of a button.

also, this is a cross-post with the OG blog, League of Melbotis

So, yeah.

By April of 2003, we were blogging. For a look at the initial form of League of Melbotis on Blogspot/ Blogger, click on over to The Wayback Machine.

As mentioned in the first post, soon I was emailing and managing comments from friends and strangers. But, also, some of those pals already had their own blogs or quickly started one. It was easy, often free, and gave folks a chance to speak their mind. People were religious about their choice of platform. Livejournal people developed quite the mythologizing about themselves that arguably continues to this day. WordPress users constantly complained about what they were using but refused to change.

JimD started his first blog of many. RHPT joined in. Soon I was aware of Maxwell (she of the podcast) starting up Cowboy Funk, which detailed her life as a Texas ex-pat in NYC. I knew her husband before we met via his own web-presence and mentions on the blog.

Even folks like MikeS who recently did The Raid PodCast here at The Signal Watch kept a blog, along with a number of other people I still keep in touch with one way or another. We sometimes wound up meeting in person (Natalie showed up to have BBQ with me for my birthday circa 2007!), and sometimes I never knew who folks were on the other end of a handle. There's still folks I talk to occasionally here in 2023 I've never met. Meanwhile, some commenters have stayed at my house. I've been drinking twice with Randy.

Here's a list of then-active links from the blog from 2007.

and sometimes Randy is in the Phantom Zone

There were a whole bunch of you! I don't even remember who was behind some of these. And, yes, there was briefly a store at Zazzle, I think. My pal Denby recently sent me a pic of the official mug of the League of Melbotis, making me about spit out my coffee.

And, similarly, by 2007, we were comics-linking.

There's a mix of comic sites and blogs, including my brief dalliance with writing for another site, the now defunct and gone Comic Fodder. But there's Bully. Weird I wasn't linking to Progressive Ruin at the time. I know I followed Mike. Ah, the folly of youth.

The first year or so was kind of strange. I was just doing my thing, but much like when I selected bands to listen to or what books to read or movies to watch, I didn't consult with my folks. Nor did I tell them "I started a blog".

I don't recall when I told my brother. And because I wasn't using my real name, I don't really remember how folks found out about it. But the internet was a small place in the Naughty Oughties. But, yeah, soon enough my brother was a regular reader and started his own blog.

Somehow my cousin found the blog, who asked my parents about it, so then they knew. And... man, one of the weirdest interactions I've ever had with my parents was explaining to them that they didn't get to tell me what I put on the internet. Especially not at age 29 or so. I don't even really recall what the topic was, but something rubbed them the wrong way, and I heard about it. And I welcomed them to not read the blog, and that didn't go well. But it was a learning moment for all of us.

It's also worth noting, the first generation of bloggers had grown up with a basic education that included literacy re: journalism. We understood that your job when going to print was to not lie or bullshit except for comedic effect. You really did research and worked to get your facts as close to accurate as possible given limited resources, if you were going to tell a true story. *And* unless you were a classless dick, if someone presented you with contrary evidence, you adjusted. Sure, there were nasty debates in comments, but if you wanted some integrity, you generally tried.

The monetization of the blogs and news-sites was not yet in place. The model back in the 00's was not to crank through 10 "stories" per day for pop culture sites. If you wanted your blog to have any credibility, you kind of needed to adhere to *something* of a journalistic standard. Unlike most comics and pop sites today, one did not glance at Wikipedia or try to remember what someone told you over beers and then rank starfleet captains from best to worst after lunch before moving on to five more short and badly thought-out articles.

I'm not pretending League of Melbotis was a bastion of journalistic integrity, but I did genuinely grind my teeth when it came to accepting items for review, any contact with creatives lest it impact my opinion of the work, and other things that impact your life less when you're writing about movies from 1945 as my current blogging has slowly morphed into.

Arguably, I wasn't wrong on the comics-front. Once CBR and Newsarama decided access to DC and Marvel's talent pool was super important (and they were clearly being played for chumps by the pros), it was the start of the end for either site being worth a look.

But comics weren't the only topic we covered, of course. We talked TV and movies to a degree, especially if they were about comics.

We also had some regular features.

Ask Melbotis was a column where folks could write in and ask my dog anything under the sun.

We had regular interaction events where we'd put out a question to readers and print their response. Folks would write in about their best Halloween costumes or tell their favorite spooky story. We did this for Christmas, too, and maybe some other events. Mostly, I was always delighted at the time and effort folks put in. I can't imagine any readers doing this now. Heck, no one comments anymore.

There was a controversial feature named "Dames In the Media the League Once Dug" which was more or less me writing about attractive women from TV and films, and what it lacked in taste, it somehow bottomed-out with being woefully uninteresting. We *did* give Jamie equal time and a chance to write up on Dudes, but she rarely took me up on it.

There were posts on living a Super Lifestyle that went modestly viral. The funniest thing to me about this post now is that it's such a 20-something or 30-year-old's take on what it means to have a collection. Friends, this was but the beginning, and now a fraction of the collection as it currently exists. Maybe I need to re-do this post for the next Superman film.

And, we also went semi-viral with with a post I wrote about working at Chuck E. Cheese. The only reason this post exists is that I flew to Minneapolis a day before a conference and forgot to bring my coat and was trapped in the hotel. And yet, people really took a shine to my no-holds-barred take on my first job.

There were, also, of course, the taste tests.

I'm not sure "regret" is how I feel about the taste tests, but then people start writing in telling you to eat things you really don't *want* to eat. And you realize you've become the carnival geek on some level. I'm not saying they weren't usually kind of fun, but...

Look, one thing that was kind of true was that people started making requests for content. And that's both very sweet and a slippery slope. Some ideas you want to do, but most you do not. And while there's clickable reasons to follow the whims of your readership, I wasn't getting paid for this, so I wasn't really beholden to do anything I didn't feel like doing. But if you're just writing or doing tricks for readers... well, that's why YouTubers tend to come off like shrieking morons.

With the current blog, I don't think I've had a request for me to cover anything in the past five or ten years. I'm watching movies. The formula is simple. But with the original formula League of Melbotis, I suppose it seemed like we were up for whatever. And I am not that guy. I'm chipper here, but I'm a bit grumpy in the flesh. We *do* get requests for movies on the PodCast, but generally that just means I extend an invitation to come on, and people do! It's not bad!

One reason I wanted to just do whatever I felt like was that I needed an outlet . I haven't talked about it much so far in the prior post, but upon review I'm surprised is mentioned so much on LoM - Jamie was very ill when we lived in Phoenix. We were in and out of the hospital a staggering amount. And not just Jamie, it often felt like we were dealing with a variety of issues with friends and family. I had a whole tag for "hospital".

So, yeah, part of the pivot from League of Melbotis-style blogging to the media-discussion of The Signal Watch was that I no longer wanted to be as open of a book about our personal business. I felt like that chapter had closed. I'd enjoyed the LoM experience and appreciated folks reading and following and reaching out. But I also wanted to keep our life separate from a blog anyone could stumble onto.

But rather than end this section on a downbeat note, I'll also remind folks of the Clambake Jake's incident which certainly helped color how I wanted to proceed and shone a light on how being online had real-world impact going both ways.

Basically, we went to a new Italian All You Care To Eat Buffet, it was bad, I wrote about it, and the owner called the house lightly threatening us.

In the end, I did agree that I could accidentally torpedo a new business, and I embargoed the post until a couple of years after Clambake Jake's went under. But it was absolutely a wild ride.

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from The Signal Watch https://ift.tt/qRHLy8P

#personal #blog history

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miyuwuki · 3 years

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Not sure if you accept requests at the moment but can you write Miyuki captin with a female s/o who have been together for a long time but they keep their relationship secret ? One day Kazuya brought with him some video tapes to help Sawamura and Furuiya about their pitching and so these two plus mochi + nori + 1st years cathers all gathering infront of the TV but suddenly the video is an old recording of 2 cute babies (Kazuya + S/o) ? Like maybe just sleeping together or playing catch ball but the girl just keeps hitting Kazuya face not mat and he is cutely angry.Or she is crying because she dropped her icecream and baby Kazuya being so gentel and comfort her and sharing his with her. You know just small moments like that were recorded but because of this mistake everyone is asking about this girl but its obvious she is Y/N and so he is caught and had to make it official. Bonus. Kazuya is trying to turn off the video but Mochi is holding him on the floor 💪💜😂 sawamaru asking when did that gentle pure nice Kazuya has gone and why he now Captin is an evil 🙃

AWWW I LOVE THIS SOO MUCHHH THANK YOU FOR GIVING ME JOY TO WRITE

warnings: none

miyuki kazuya x reader

caught!

“ah, this is nice.” you hummed, laying on miyuki’s shoulder on the benches that no one uses. his hand was slowly gripping your thigh and he chuckled, “we have to go back soon. we’re going to review the game against teiko.” you let out a soft “hmph” and snuggled closer, closing your eyes.

“it’s so hard keeping our relationship a secret, kazu.” you grumbled. it’s been a secret for years now, and somehow no one ever caught on. growing up together, you both were bound to be a couple, like those typical childhood friends to lovers clichés. although miyuki wanted to keep it a secret, not out of ill intention but to avoid any unnecessary attention. you agreed, not wanting to be the talk of the town, but sometimes you couldn’t help but want to shout to the whole world about your pretty boy.

“sorry,” he whispered, kissing your forehead. he let go of your thigh and got up, reaching out a hand to you. “i’ll sneak into your dorm later to make it up to you. you can drool on me all you want.” you laughed as you took his hand and playfully hit him with your other, “i don’t drool.”

“whatever you say.”

you guys arrived at the dining area where the team was already gathered by the television, staring at miyuki as he walked in.

“MIYUKI-SENPAI,” sawamura shouted, “YOU’RE LATE. HOW CAN I REFINE MY PITCHING IF YOU DON’T SPARE ME THE TIME?”

“be quiet, sawamura,” miyuki sighed, “put the tape in.”

sawamura grabbed the tape from miyuki’s hand and hurriedly ejected it into the dvd system. “furuya, hurry and get a notepad,” he said to him.

the tape started to play as everyone sat back. you and miyuki stood in front on the tv, your memo pad ready in your hands to take notes on each pitch.

“miyuki,” kuramochi muttered, “are you sure you gave the right one?”

suddenly, a laugh emitted from the tv; not just any laugh, but a baby’s laugh, and it filled the silence of the room. everyone just stared at the screen in confusion, wondering why they were watching a baby hitting another baby that was sleeping.

you squinted your eyes at the tv, slowly recognizing what it was. “kazuya!” you shrieked, redness blooming across your cheeks.

“is that you, kazuya?” kawakami asked, “you had glasses since way back.”

miyuki stood there in disbelief because of what was playing in front of him, anxious that the secret he’d been keeping was slowly unravelling itself. wanting to get it over with quickly, he said, “alright everyone enough, i’m going to change it.” kuromochi quickly ran in front of him, blocking his way. “quick, sawamura!” he uttered, “hold him back!”

with a loud laugh, sawamura wrapped his arms around miyuki, holding him still while your eyes stayed glued to the screen. even though you were extremely embarrassed, you couldn’t help but watch and adore the old memories you had with him. time really flies, huh?

the next part of the tape showed a young girl crying, holding an empty cone with her ice cream splashed on the floor. the boy with glasses next to her was looking at her in annoyance, telling her to stop crying and that she can have his. he gave her his ice cream cone and the girl immediately stopped crying, giving him a small kiss on the cheek. the boy smiled and pat her head, telling her not to be sad anymore. “aww’s” and “ooo’s” went around, the team enjoying the wholesome content.

“is that you, y/n-senpai?” furuya murmured.

your focus on the tv was interrupted by that one question, as you shyly looked at miyuki, unsure of how to answer. if you said no, well, you’d be lying. but if you said yes, the whole team would find out about you and him, exposing years of your relationship. so you chose the most reasonable one.

“uh, no, i think that’s—”

“it is y/n, furuya.” miyuki breathed, cutting you off. he said a “let go of me” to sawamura and kuramochi before going to you and holding your hand. gasps came out of the mouths of the team, earning one from you too.

“kazuya..”

“y/n and i are dating,” he announced, “and we have been for a while.”

“WHAT!” sawamura shouted, causing kuramochi to kick his back. “I THOUGHT YOU GUYS WERE SIBLINGS!!”

“it was so obvious,” kuramochi rebutted, holding him by the collar.

“mm, we knew.” kawakami added, making an apologetic face.

“huh? but we never told anyone.” miyuki replied, “we’ve kept it in secret for years.”

“yeah but we always see you guys on that bench that no one uses.” kuramochi teased, “we make sure not to go there, right everyone?”

“WAIT REALLY?”

“shut up, sawamura.”

miyuki sighed and brought you closer, “well that’s embarrassing..” you laughed, partially because this whole situation was pretty comical, but because you were happy that you didn’t have to be in private anymore.

“but..” sawamura started, trailing off. you turned to him and cocked your head to the side, “hm?” you hummed. “what’s wrong, sawamura?”

“WHAT HAPPENED TO THAT NICE MIYUKI KAZUYA! WHY ARE YOU SO EVIL NOW, SENPAI. YOU ARE RUTHLESS, CRUEL, WICKED, IT’S SO TWISTED!” sawamura cried, tears flowing down his face.

miyuki cackled at this, his signature menacing smile forming on his face, “well, thank you!”

“IT’S NOT A COMPLIMENT.”

and that’s how seido found about your—already exposed— relationship. shortly after this event, everyone started calling you guys the parents of the baseball team. miyuki acted like he hated it, but you lowkey loved it, now being free to tease and love your boyfriend however you want.

BONUS:

“i never knew you kept those tapes with you, kazu.” you teased your boyfriend after that whole fiasco.

“bring it up one more time and i won’t bake you bread.”

“i’m sorry.”

I HOPE THIS IS OKAY <3

#daiya no ace #diamond no ace #daiyadaily #daiya x reader #diamond no ace x reader #daiya no ace x reader #miyuki kazuya #kazuya miyuki #miyuki x reader #miyuki kazuya x reader #kazuya miyuki x reader #kominato haruichi #kuramochi youichi #sawamura eijun #kawakami norifumi #furuya satoru #i love him #seido

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skellebonez · 3 years

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I AM SORRY FOR THIS SKELLE BUT I MUST: 5 (kidnapping them was the only way I was going to get them here),6 (let's make a deal, shall we?) and 41 (can you teach me how to do that) with the demon bull fam and mk with a little hint of 64 (I may have eaten seven of them already). NOW GO HAM MY DUDE

Oh I had way too much fun with this one. I took S2E4 (spoilers mentioned for that!) and some tweets made by one of the show producers on the same day as fuel for a very silly idea I had. I don't write what can be considered "Crack treated seriously" (or at least semi-seriously, this is not a 100% serious fic) often but when I do I go hard. This is more focused on MK and others than SpicyNoodles so it's a bit more gen fic than a full on ship fic as well.

Kidnapping them was the only way I was going to get them here/Let's make a deal, shall we?/Can you teach me how to do that?/I may have eaten seven of them already.

"Red..." MK started off slowly, watching as his boyfriend's face flushed and twisted in embarrassment. "Can you tell me why your mother showed up at my apartment and used her wind vortex thing to teleport us here without an explanation? And then left us in your..." He looked around, noting that aside from the excessively large throne and two smaller thrones beside it this room looked like a... "Living room? On a couch?"

"I can-" Red Son started, raising a hand before pausing a frowning deeply. "Actually, no, I can't explain. This is just weird, even by my parent's standards. I have no idea what is going on, but since you're still here..." He shrugged with a hopeful smile, shaky through the uncertainty. "Maybe it's not bad? I mean, if Mother was truly upset or wanted to do something bad surely she would have not left us to our own devices. Maybe she’s... uh... happy I finally have a boyfriend?”

At the pointed raise of an eyebrow from MK that hopeful smile faltered a bit. Happy Red Son had a boyfriend for the first time in a couple centuries? Under different circumstances he wouldn't doubt that! Happy when that boyfriend was MK?

Oh he did doubt that.

He knew that they shouldn't have been sneaking around the way they had been. It had made sense at first, two people on opposite sides of a feud lasting centuries who discovered they actually enjoyed spending time together more than fighting each other. One who decided he very much would rather not follow through with any kind of domination and see his family hurt, who realized "actually my sworn nemesis isn't so bad", and another who decided "my life is already weird enough, why not give this befriending my enemy thing a shot".

And then one thing lead to another and before they knew it their secret friend meet up became a secret boyfriend meet up. They'd managed to keep everything under wraps for a while (except from Mei because, well... she was his best friend! He couldn't not tell someone and she would have found out fast if he wasn't obvious, and she had quickly become a mutual source of support for both of them), though MK knew Pigsy and the others knew something was up. They didn't question him, though, aside from the occasional good natured jab. "Wow MK, you seem happy today. Got any plans?" and that sort of thing. They seemed to trust him to make his own decisions, as long as he was happy and healthy and eventually told them. (Sun Wukong, however, may have caught in a little when he jokingly asked if MK had gotten a boyfriend and MK had choked on his drink. He never brought it up specifically after that but he was smart. Too smart.)

Red Son, on the other hand, was fantastic at keeping secrets when he tried. Or MK thought he was... the last few months gave no indication that either of his parents had discovered their little sneaky rendezvous. Then Princess Iron Fan broke into his apartment and, well, here they are. Clearly something had gone wrong somewhere along the line.

Before MK could follow through with any questions of whether or not there could be a fate worse than instant death that involved lulling him into a false sense of security, the two men froze at the sound of quickly approaching voices.

“Could this not have been done another way, my dear?”

“Kidnapping them was the only way I was going to get them here, you know that. Noodle Boy is not that gullible, contrary to what we first believed.”

Ah... shit... Red Son’s parents.

Mk quickly ran through all the possessions he had in his apartment and wondered if he had time to text Mei or Pigsy the world’s fastest will and testament and if that would be legally binding. He just hoped he had something for Pigsy to handle the Phantom Orderer they'd had for the last year.

They always ordered on the app and prepaid and managed to leave him a sizeable tip in his tuk-tuk after he dropped off the food at whatever random location they indicated.

"Good," PIF's voice rang clear, far faster than he could even attempt to pull out his phone, and MK turned to see that she was casually lounging on the shoulder of the Demon Bull King. She jumped down, her wind lightening her fall so much so that she barely made a sound when her feet touched ground. "You've made yourself comfortable."

MK couldn't bring himself to move, as much as he very dearly wanted to run away as quickly as possible. Yes, he was The Monkie Kid and had progressed far enough that he could probably escape without much problem. Yes, he and DBK had had an understanding after the White Bone Spirit and Lunar New Year Festival (though he still didn't know if PIF ever found out about that one). Yes, Princess Iron Fan had shown little interest in him before and had even worked beside him with no complaints (she didn't even care enough to attack during the Food Wars thing!). But that was all before she apparently found out he was dating her son behind her back while they were technically still enemies.

He was glad at that moment that she had grabbed them before they went to get lunch... his stomach was doing back flips that would make a gymnast jealous.

"Uh, yes Miss-Mrs-Muh-M- Princess Iron... Fan?" MK couldn't help but stutter awkwardly, holding onto the hem of his jacket and worrying it as he tried to keep his composure. He looked beside him, watching as Red sat straighter and kept an even expression on his face that he couldn't quite place. His hair seemed to spark softly.

Though she raised a brow at this, PIF didn't comment on that at all. Instead she made her way to the other couch across from them as opposed to what was clearly supposed to be her throne, leaning forward right her elbows on her knees and her fingers laced together in front of her. DBK stopped behind her, seemingly content to stay standing.

"Noodle Boy... you prefer to go by MK, is that correct?" She started, and he nodded slowly in confused response. "Hmn... so. You've been dating my son for quite some time. Many months... no, a bit over a year if I am not mistaken in how long his behavior has changed." 'Oh shit' went MK's brain. "You must be quite serious, if you're willing to go through so much just to see each other. Late night meetings. Secret hideaways. Sneaking onto Flower Fruit Mountain, even." 'Oh SHIT' it repeated in horror. "That's quite the dedication to show toward anyone... I hate to admit it, but I am quite impressed." 'OH SH-wait what?'

"Bw-huh?" Was what MK managed out, half a sound that was almost a word and half a squeak of confusion.

"The fact I myself remained oblivious until only a few weeks ago is quite something. Let's make a deal, shall we?" She continued, sitting back straight and looking like the proud Princess she was and not like a woman sitting on a couch that looked comically small in front of her enormous husband. "You and Red Son no longer have to hide your relationship from us and in exchange..." she paused, as if relishing the building tension between herself and the couple before her. "You will come over at least once a week so we can get to actually know you properly."

MK froze. Red Son froze even more.

Then his entire head lit ablaze as he jumped up and gestured at his mother with a gaping mouth. "Th-that's it!? I-I was... I was RIGHT!?"

PIF barely reacted to this, merely lounging sideways as she put her elbow on the arm of the couch and rested her cheek on her hand.

"Whatever you were right about, I suppose you were. But yes," she shrugged, honestly looking... kinda happy? "Has this been about a year ago I perhaps would not have understood what you saw in Nood-MK. But I can see how happy you have been lately, and there's something about him that is like... what did you say he was like, darling?" She turned to DBK, who shrugged himself with an unreadable expression.

"A ball of sunshine given human form."

... that was not what MK ever expected to hear from the Demon Bull King's mouth...

"Yes, that's it," she nodded as if this was completely normal and ignored how Red Son flopped back down onto the couch and stared at the ceiling. "I'd hate to admit it, but you've grown on us through out sparse interactions. Somehow. And we have been eagerly waiting for the day we could finally welcome someone into our son's life. So what do you say? Do we have a deal?"

She seemed... serious. MK may not know her that well, but it was clear to anyone when she wasn't being so.

"Uh... o-ok? Sure?" MK said softly, nodding in amazement as DBK and PIF actually smiled at this.

This was the strangest day of his life, beating our every single demon fight and even the day he got the Monkey King's staff. But he'd take this strangeness over the alternative 500 times over.

"Excellent," DBK nodded himself, there was a lot of that about. "That seems to have worked out n-"

Everyone paused at a loud grumble echoed the room, all turning to Red Son as he flared up in embarrassment this time.

"Don't look at me like that, we were supposed to eat half an hour ago and I am starving," Red Son grumbled as he sat up, not looking anyone in the eye. "I don't suppose we could. Eat now? Please?"

Despite the situation, MK couldn't help but smile at his pouting.

"I could bring us some food from Pigsy's?" MK offered in an attempt to contribute. Something. "I mean, I know Red likes it and you kinda seemed to like it the one time you tried it and... uh... yeah."

"Actually... I may have eaten seven of them already..." PIF admitted, looking away in embarrassment. "l've tried not to give into the temptation, but your father's noodles from the Food Wars were so... I just can't resist ordering some secretly after 5 or so weeks!"

"So you're the phantom orderer!" MK gasped out in shock, but after a moment he frowned and rubbed the back of his head. He had a bit of an idea. "Well... I could... make some for us instead?" He ammended his offered softly. "I may not make it exactly like Pigsy does, but I can get pretty close as long as you have the ingredients! And you wouldn't have to worry about me going there and coming back! We can eat like. Immediately!"

"I think that sounds acceptable," PIF said with a nod as she stood, but MK could see a bit of excitement sparkling in her usually cold eyes. "Come, Red Son. I need to discuss some upgrades the Bull Clones have been asking for with you. Your father can assist him in the kitchen until we are done."

Red looked over at MK and only stood to follow his mother once he nodded, giving his father a pointed look before exited the room. MK, in the meantime, looking up at DBK with a gulp and followed him as he lead the way toward their kitchen.

It was... well, bigger than he was used to. But pretty normal, regal size and decor aside. And it seemed, once he was given the nod of ok from his host (and wasn't that a bizarre thing, DBK and PIF being his hosts on a home visit to his boyfriend's parents... he was going to need to get used to that) he checked the fridge and counters and found he had just about everything he needed to make what he had in mind.

"Can you teach me how to do that?" DBK asked after a moment, startling MK into nearly dropping the sauce he needed for the broth. "Not the recipe itself, just..." He gestured to the counter. "Red Son has a bit of a proclivity toward cooking and he's been trying to get me involved, but we've never cooked anything like. That."

His words were awkward and stilted, but MK could tell he was trying. The same way he could tell PIF wasn't kidding with her offer. They just seemed to... want to get to know him as a potential... son-in-law... huh.

"Sure, but you're gonna want to shrink down a bit for this."

Lunch turned out amazing and, while awkward (much like most of the day)... it was nice not to have to hide their dating for once. And Red actually seemed pretty happy! Though he learned quickly that the Monkey King was still a bit of an (understandably) sore subject that was best avoided. For now.

Maybe not forever though.

(When PIF very not subtly dropped him and Red Son both off inside Pigsy's Noodles after their lunch, the only response he got was a "oh, so they finally found out huh? Looks like things went well" from Pigsy and Tang. Maybe he wasn't as sneaky as he thought he was...)

#monkie kid #lego monkie kid #gen fic #mk #qi xiaotian #red son #spicynoodleshipping #dbk and pif #pif may be one of least favorite characters in the show for a few reasons #but even she can have good moments in my fics from time to time #crack treated seriously #i love that i can use that tag #ship fic but only just

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nerdified · 3 years

Text

Procedural Notes: Patient #3 (FKA Hugo Jensen)

NOTE: [At the time of this audio recording, Mr. Hugo Jensen (NKA Norville Nerdlinger) has just begun the process, and is restrained. The identity of the speaker is unknown. This transcript is reproduced here in order to assist with identification of this man, who has since disappeared, absconding with an undisclosed amount of the process agonist. Efforts to locate him have, to date, been fruitless. If anyone knows anything about this man or his whereabouts, please report the information to Central Command.]

[BEGIN TRANSCRIPT]

Quiet, now. It’s no use struggling.

I’m not going to hurt you. Quite the opposite.

I see that look in your eyes, like you don’t think I could hurt you. You’re probably right. I’m not much of a fighter. But I know what you think of me, and other guys like me. I’ve been listening to you on the phone, you know. Hacked your telecommunications. What was it that you called me, on that call with the client yesterday?

Oh, yes, I remember. A walking pocket protector. I’ll admit, that was a new one for me. I’ve had “pencil-neck” and “four-eyes” and the good old-fashioned “nerd” lobbed at me before, but “walking pocket-protector”… Heck, it’s got a little poetry to it!

Shh. I know, it feels strange. It’s a little unsettling, at first, I’ll agree. But you’ll get used to it. It’ll go easier for you if you just relax and quit fighting it. In time, you’ll even begin to like it.

I’m sorry about the gag. Unfortunately, it’s just the beginning of the process, so I have to leave it in for…twenty-three more minutes, at least, if my calculations are correct.

Ha! Who am I kidding – my calculations are always correct.

I can see from your eyes that you hate my guts right now. That, too, will change.

You see, what’s about to happen to you isn’t out of the ordinary, or even very noteworthy. As far as I can tell, it happens to a lot of guys, especially those that zip through their twenties and then hit that speed bump called thirty, bank accounts empty and career opportunities shot. Those of us who didn’t win the genetic lottery couldn’t get by just on our looks and our charisma, like you did.

I remember how it felt when I was in high school, and guys like you were all A+ students and perfect jocks, too… gosh, it’s enough to make me swear.

But no. You couldn’t leave well enough alone. You couldn’t just be a jock, be good at sports, and leave the academics to the rest of us. We didn’t ask for much, you know. We just wanted to be left alone in our science labs, and in our tutorials, in our lives.

There's no escaping guys like you. You’re everywhere, and you’re spreading. For a time, we ignored it. Figured it was some kind of anomaly. But it wasn’t – it was a trend. And despite the fact that we didn’t see it coming, we are now prepared for its end.

Like I mentioned – it won’t surprise most people to see you change. Maybe a few of your close friends will worry about you. Express some concern. But by that point, you’ll already have accepted your new self. You’ll be able to say “This is just who I am,” and it’ll be their choice how to proceed. That’s a side benefit, by the way, of the process. You get to find out who your real friends are – and, spoiler alert: they’re not exactly big football fans.

You have to be prepared for some major shake-up in your life, though. The good thing about the process is that it won’t faze you in the slightest. Everything will be gee-whiz gosh-darn super-duper spiffy keen neat-o, if anyone asks, and for you, it will be.

Now, I know those terms are a little outdated. We’ve had to make a bit of an adjustment to the process in your case. The earlier version wasn’t quite strong enough for you, so we’ve had to over-compensate in a few directions. You won’t just be a little bit nerdy, you know, a couple of odd quirks, some new hobbies. For example, Derek – well, that’s his dead name, he goes by Derwood now – Derwood can sometimes get by in normal society. He even kept a few of his old friends. He’s just more into things like superhero movies, and he’s left behind all knowledge or passion for sports. I think I even saw him reading a comic book the other day, come to think of it.

But that’s not going to be you. Oh, sure, you might develop a taste for superhero movies, but if you do, it won’t just be a passing interest. You’ll become a rabid fan. I believe…obsessive…is the operative word, in fact. Yes, you see, that earlier version of the process would have worn off, and you’d have been back to your old self in no time, which would wreak havoc on your psyche, not to mention put our entire operation in jeopardy. We can’t have that.

It looks like some time has passed, but not quite enough for me to remove the gag yet. Do you feel your perfect white teeth shifting around in your gums, almost impatiently? Nod once for yes.

You don’t have to nod at all, not if you don’t want to. I don’t need you to confirm for me what I can already see happening in your eyes. Speaking of your eyes – how’s your vision? I can see you starting to squint every now and then. Trying to see past that blur? Don’t worry. I’ve already got your glasses, right here, for when it gets too bad for you to see. Talk about your Coke-bottle lenses - my calculations again predict that you’ll settle somewhere around…hm…negative six diopters, which is even worse than mine.

To put it simply: you won’t even be able to read the big E on the eye chart without your glasses on.

I know, you’ve never been to the optometrist in your life. You never needed to. And don’t think about getting contact lenses, either. I mean, go ahead and try, if you really want to embarrass yourself.

Oh, I can see it now: timid, nerdy little guy like you, shuffling into the doctor’s office – you say you want to get contact lenses, and they get you in the back for a fitting. They show you how to do it, you know, hold your eyelids apart and then just plop the lens on there. But you have to do it three times before they’ll let you leave with them, and you won’t even be able to get one in, because you’ll keep blinking it out. I wish I could be there to see it, honestly – you, all frustrated, trying to swear, but only able to say things like “Fudge!” and “Gosh darn it!”

It’ll be so beautiful. I’m getting teary just thinking about it.

I’m glad you’re starting to settle down a bit. Let me know when you need your glasses. Maybe while we wait, I’ll get started on your hair. That trendy fade has got to go, and so does that scruff on your face. At the start, you’ll have to shave a lot, but as the process continues, you’ll start producing more of a 5-alpha reductase enzyme. This will convert your testosterone into dihydrotestosterone, or DHT, which will actually miniaturize your follicles. Kind of like using a shrink ray on them! Oh, and there will be no taking of inhibitors, like finasteride or anything like that – our process contains a potent agonist, with an affinity of 0.25 to 0.5 nM for the human androgen receptor.

It’s all very scientific, I assure you. And with the miniaturization of your follicles, your sebaceous glands will begin to over-produce sebum, which results in – you guessed it! Acne. Pimples. Zits. I know you’ve never had to deal with that before, so I’m just preparing you for it now. Pizza-face, I think the popular nickname is. Get ready for a lot of that.

Let’s see…what else can I tell you.... Gosh, this is kind of like the orientation for a new job, isn’t it? Ah, yes. I know. Speaking of jobs...

Yeah, this is the tough part. It’s all very natural, I assure you. Just like with your friends, your co-workers will come to see you in a different way. I know you have quite a few cutthroat underlings who would eat one another alive to get your corner office, and the moment they sense you’re not as much of a threat as you used to be, they’ll swarm.

I give it two weeks, tops, until you’re gone. If you choose that road. Or you could make it much easier on yourself and resign. You won’t be financially ruined – not with all that new information surging through your brain – you’ll be an asset to the right company, the right department. Maybe IT will take you. Or accounting. Maybe you won’t work corporate. Maybe you’ll work retail.

God, that’s cruel even for me. I wouldn’t wish retail on anyone, even a jerk like you. But there’s no telling what could happen. For all I know, once the process has completed, you could end up one of those Geek Squad guys at Best Buy! Have you seen the uniform they have to wear? It’s company-mandated dress code. You’ve seen them, haven’t you? White, short-sleeve, button-down shirt. Black polyester clip-on necktie; black, pleated trousers; black lace-up shoes…and white socks. Yes, white socks, kept completely spotless and bright. All this is enforced, too, with routine inspections, to make sure you’re being compliant!

You see, there’s really an infinity of possibilities for you. If anything, this is a new chance for you – a fresh start. I know it feels scary, all this change. But change is the only constant. Everything is always in flux. Heck, every seven years, your entire body regenerates – every cell is new and different, so why shouldn’t your personality and identity change, too?

It’s logical, isn’t it? Nod once for yes.

Good! You’re starting to come around, aren’t you? Like I said, it won’t be so bad if you just accept it. If you don’t fight it. That sudden urge to position your tongue up behind your teeth when you say ess. Eth. Eth. How your voice keeps breaking, and in the most unfortunate ways, and at the most unfortunate times – all of this is being etched into your muscle memory as I speak to you.

There isn’t much longer now until I can remove your gag, and I can see that the physical alterations are beginning. Too bad all that hard work at the gym all these years is so easily eroded by our process, but then, those muscles were mostly for show, weren’t they? Well, no longer. It isn’t exactly sarcopenia, but it’s close. You’ll be at least one and a half, possibly two, standard deviations below the relevant population mean, and no amount of exercise will restore your former abilities.

Yes, the ropes are looser now, because you’re much smaller. Rapid onset muscle deterioration. You could struggle out of them. Maybe you could even escape. You could try. But there’s no way you’d make it very far without your glasses. Who would believe you, anyway? What would you even say?

Like I said, you might as well give in. It’s not so bad, once you get used to it. And you’ll have me. I’ll be with you for the whole beginning process, so you can acclimate to your newly nerdy life. You won’t be able to continue living in that luxe apartment you’ve got – no, you’ll be moving into a nice little basement apartment I’ve got fixed up for you, in the suburbs outside the city. The landlords have just got it refurbished, with some nice wood paneling, and there’s a spare twin bed that should be just your size! There’s also tons of room on the walls to put up all your posters. You won’t need much room for anything else, really. You definitely won’t be needing that enormous closet of tailored, fitted button-down shirts, or all those sneakers, definitely not those expensive Under Armour boxer-briefs. What a waste. No, the new you is way more frugal with his money, seeing as he’s paid so little of it. The new you doesn’t even think that much about clothes, or fashion.

This must be a lot to handle. Maybe I should have a little mercy on you.

Tell you what. I’ll let you choose your underwear. How’s that, pal? That make you feel any better? Nod once for yes.

See, I’m not that bad. That’s right. So, here. You can choose…Hanes, or Fruit of the Loom?

Oh, I see. You thought I meant what kind of underwear. Haha, no. You’ll be wearing tighty-whities from now on. Sorry, them’s the rules. Besides, you won’t need much support…down there, if you catch my drift!

Don’t look so horrified. You won’t even notice that it’s gone. Mostly. You’ll still have some length, just, you know, not a lot. You won’t be able to call it a “cock” or a “dick” ever again, either. Oh, look how cute – you’re blushing just hearing me say it! You might call it something else, like your ding-a-ling, or your wiener.

Okay, okay, I can tell you’re getting embarrassed, you’ve gone all red and blotchy in your cheeks. We don’t have to talk about the … “no-no place” anymore, little buddy.

All right. Here’s your glasses. I’ll just set them on your nose, for you…there. Wow, they sure do make your eyes look tiny!

I can tell you’re getting near to the end of the process, and I’m curious to see how big your two front teeth have gotten. From that bump in your upper lip…gosh, it looks like you might be giving Bugs Bunny a run for his money!

You’ve really been behaving better, so I’ll bring you a mirror, okay? So you can see for yourself. I must say, it’s already quite the improvement. I wasn’t expecting your hair to turn so red, or get so curly. Maybe if you can’t get a job at Best Buy, you could run away and join the circus as a clown!

I’m just horsing around with you, pal. Don’t pass out on me. You promise not to scream? I hate it when they scream. Nod once for yes.

You’re a little excited, aren’t you? It’s okay. You can tell me. I bet you get a little more excitable than you used to. Maybe you even get a little clumsy, with the loss of all that hand-eye coordination. Trip over your own two feet and go sprawling.

But who knows. There’s so much potential.

And you’re just the beginning, too. Let’s just say that my proposal for introducing you to the process wasn’t well-received by Central. What do they know? They have this power, and they don’t use it. Well, you snooze, you lose, by golly! If you have a gift, you use it, otherwise it goes to waste.

Anyway. Enough of the supervillain speech. You don’t need to know anything more. It’ll probably be wiped out in the massive crush of nerdy trivia about Star Trek and Star Wars that’s going to download into your brain soon, anyway.

So, this is it. Are you ready to see? Nod once for yes, and I’ll pull the cloth off this mirror here.

Alrighty, dweeb, you asked for it. Here goes.

Say salutations to the new you!

[END TRANSCRIPT]

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schrijverr · 3 years

Text

Standing Up Again

Their meeting with Moreau at the pool goes slightly different. He makes Eliot kneel for him and the whole thing makes Hardison want to break out in hives and punch Moreau. When he asks Eliot about it later, things come to light and he tries to convince Eliot that he doesn’t deserve what happened to him.

On AO3.

Ships: none

Warnings: mentions of past rape, abuse of power and self blame. Please be cautious.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Hardison knew something was wrong the moment the words: “My name is Eliot Spencer,” left the lips of the person in question.

Eliot was private, if he gave his real name it was always only ever Eliot, never the Spencer, and he never told any of their marks so that there would be no way to trace him back to the team. His job was to protect them and Hardison knew how serious Eliot took that. There was no way he would jeopardize a mission like this. So, there must be something wrong.

Still, he followed the hitter into the elevator, hissing the question as of why Eliot had done so. The pit in his stomach only growingas Eliot didn’t answer him, only saying: “Just stick close to me, okay? This might get messy.”

He knew better than to argue, so he followed Eliot’s lead, mentally writing out a rant to demand explanations later, because this was not cool, not cool at all.

At the pool everyone was immediately on guard with guns being drawn all around them. Hardison knew that even Eliot couldn't fight his way out of this one. He had to stay in character, no matter what Eliot or Moreau threw at him.

The guy that met them was not Moreau, but he looked both scared and gleeful at the appearance of the hitter, Hardison hardly registered as he focused all his attention on Eliot, who got right up in his personal space while guns were being pointed at his head from all around them.

“Chapman,” Eliot greeted. He knew this guy? By name?

“Eliot,” the man, Chapman, returned. Okay so they were both familiar with one another, not surprising with how they got in, cool, cool.

“They gave you the job?” Eliot asked and he sounded as if he found that comical while Hardison just tried to puzzle the pieces together, not happy with what he was finding here.

“There was an opening,” was that scorn in Chapman’s voice? That might be useful if they wanted to get out here alive. That was if Eliot still was here for the plan with the way he was going off on his own right now.

Their staring match got interrupted by a man stepping out of the sauna. It was a face Hardison knew well after all the research he had done on the man: Moreau.

“It’s no way to treat an old friend,” Moreau started and it all clicked.

Hardison had already suspected something was going on when Eliot’s name – his realname – got them in and then with the recognition of what was obviously the head of security, it added up, making Hardison believe that Eliot at least must have worked with some of these guys, maybe did an odd job for Moreau before they started Leverage.

But this? This was not just an odd job that was heightened by Eliot’s name in the business. This was personal contact that hinted at a closer relation. Moreau knew Eliot personally and considered him a friend. Why the hell had he not told them?

“Damien,” Eliot greeted and it just kept on getting worse, didn’t it? They were on a first name basis and it looked like Eliot had been his former head of security.

Was this a trap? Was Eliot ratting them out? He had never suspected Eliot, despite all that he had found on the man. Eliot seemed like he enjoyed working for Leverage, like he wanted to help, like he had changed. But it seemed not.

Still, Hardison knew that not everything was always what it seemed. His whole job was based on it, in fact. So, he decided to keep on playing his part, hoping Eliot was still on his side.

“Let’s catch up!” Moreau clapped in his hands as he smiled and Hardison saw a flash of something he couldn't place in Eliot’s eyes.

Quickly the men moved around them and Hardison got handcuffed to a chair. “You call this a plan?” he couldn't help but subtly ask, praying that Eliot would give him at least something to work with.

“I’m not handcuffed to anything,” was Eliot’s answer and there went his hopes as the meeting began with Moreau grabbing a drink, before pointing at Eliot and saying: “You work alone.”

“Things change,” Eliot pointed out as Moreau sat down.

“Don’t take it personally, it takes me a while to warm up to people.” Hardison was surprised for a moment when Moreau addressed him, but he managed to play it off as pretty woman in a bikini came to offer them two flutes of wine or champagne or something of the sort. Moreau waved her away with a, “He prefers beer,” about Eliot, making Hardison once again question how well the two knew each other and why the hell he hadn’t been informed.

“This one of your retrieval jobs, Eliot? Tell me, whose Snoopy lunchbox do I have?” Moreau went on as if nothing was wrong, questioning Eliot as if they were truly just friends catching up, even with the undercurrent.

“It’s not a retrieval,” Eliot answered, he was apparently still on Hardison’s side, luckily, going with their cover story, “I’m escorting the middleman. I’m here to ensure he gets in and out with the offer.”

This Hardison had prepared for, so he jumped in playing his role, glad that Eliot was still running their con. “Pardon, monsieur, my client has heard what you’re selling and would like to acquire the Rams Horn.”

“And you client is?” Moreau smiled both pleasantly and condescendingly and Hardison had to give him credit for that.

He quickly came up with a stalling deflection as answer. “If you indulge us with the details of the auction, we can make a bid. All will be revealed then. I assure you, we are working in good faith.”

“I’m sure you are, I’m sure you are,” Moreau said pleasantly, while managing to look anything but pleasant, “but I don’t know you.” He turned to Eliot and smiled like a shark, “I do know you. We could talk.”

“Look, I’m just here to vouch for him, he’s the one who can do the talking. I’m not the one with the client’s wishes,” Eliot tried to explain, but it sounded as if he was already giving in to something Moreau hadn’t even said and Hardison wasn’t sure if it was played or not.

“Yes, yes, of course,” Moreau leaned back in his chair, looking to Eliot as if he was a fun little trinket for him to play with. Hardison was really starting to hate this guy. “Still, I need to know if you’re still someone, who can vouch to me. Loyalty is hard to come by these days, I hope you understand.”

“Ah perfect,” Moreau clapped in his hands again, obviously pleased with himself as Eliot nodded tightly. “I think showing that you still know your place would be a good start. How about that little thing you first did for that Russian, it always was my favourite. You remember?”

“I do,” Eliot replied and it suddenly hit him what the flash he had seen earlier in Eliot’s eyes had been. It was fear. An emotion so unfamiliar on the hitter’s face that he hadn’t recognized it. Eliot was scared of Moreau. This could not be good.

“Well, then, go on. No time like the present,” Moreau waited expectantly as the men around him started to grin, making Hardison fear for whatever was about to come.

Then, slowly, Eliot took one step forwards, fishing a knife out of a holster he had stashed somewhere and handing it to Moreau, before sinking down on his knees. It was not just a normal kneel, no he spread his legs completely and sat on his feet, making ithard to get up easily. His back was arched, because he held his arms behind his back, grabbing his elbows. Yet the icing on the cake was how he opened his mouth, letting his tongue rest on his chin.

He was practically presenting himself, waiting for something as the rest of the guys there laughed at him, though he didn’t react. It was making Hardison uncomfortable to think about what Eliot’s employment had been like that this was normal and what they were waiting on since Moreau still had the knife.

Leaning forwards, Moreau lightly dragged the knife under Eliot’s eye, not enough to break skin, but close enough to be threatening. Eliot didn’t flinch, just kept looking straight ahead as if he was a soldier on attention.

The knife went across his nose, nicking a bit of his other cheek, before Moreau pressed the upper, non-sharp ridge against Eliot’s tongue. All through this Eliot didn’t react.

Moreau putthe knife point between Eliot’s eyes, before pressing two fingers far enough into Eliot’s throat that most other’s would have gagged and impaled themselves on the knife. Luckily Eliot wasn’t most others and he just let Moreau do that to him. He didn’t even make a peep when Moreau caressed his cheek gently and said: “I missed you, Eliot. You just left one day, no note, no goodbye. What’s a man got to think?”

He let his hand trail through Eliot’s hair and Hardison saw him tense slightly when Moreau raised the knife towards it. He studied Eliot carefully, then said: “I like the hair,” before cutting off a small strand that was out of sight. “Sad that it would have to go when you come back.”

Then whatever the weird hazing ritual was, was over and Moreau focused back on Hardison, explaining: “Some guys aren’t impressed by money, but by power, influence. I’ve come to enjoy the practice.”

Hardison attempted a sort of smile-nod, but his insides twisted at the view. He thought back on Eliot warning Nate on multiple occasions, the fear in his eyes before and the stupid control show off. He did not want to think about what Eliot had gone through for that man and he felt guilty for doubting Eliot earlier, when he obviously didn’t want to be there, but was there anyway. For them.

“You sit,” he told Eliot as if he was a dog and Eliot stayed seated. “I know you can vouch for someone now. You have some loyalty still left. I’ll talk with you, you can tell you middleman after and he can tell you client what you said.”

“I ain’t much on talking, Moreau,” Eliot finally spoke again, his voice rough after his tongue had dried up, hanging outside his mouth.

“It’s not really your choice, now is it, Eliot? I’m not the one kneeling on the floor,” he said patronizingly, before gesturing to one of the guards, “Let’s keep it short.” And before Hardison knew it, he was splashing into the pool.

He trashed and clawed for the surface, hoping Eliot would jump in after him. Cause screw the con at this point. He was dying.

Oh my god, he was dying.

He was cuffed to a chair at the bottom of a pool and the one person who could help him was surrounded by men with guns, kneeling on the floor in front of one of the most powerful people in the world.

They would never make it.

He would never make it.

This was the end of Alec Hardison: Greatest hacker to ever live, drowned in a pool.

His blood rushed loudly past his ears as he scrambled to the surface to no avail. Eliot would never come. If he were to do so, he would have done it already. He was most likely already shot and bleeding out while Moreau sipped his little drink.

Still, he was desperate to survive. He knew his body couldn't handle much more without oxygen, so he sucked at the chair in desperation.

There was still air in the chair.

He could live a few moments longer.

He could do this.

Fuck, he just hoped Eliot was still alive. He hoped they would get out of there.

A key dropped next to him.

A key.

He was saved.

Wasting no time, he undid the handcuffs before swimming to the surface, breathing in the moist swim pool air as if it was the best he’d ever had. He quickly went to the edge of the pool, only bothering with his surroundings once he was back on steady land.

Eliot hadn’t moved an inch. He was still sitting there in that same position with his knees spread wide and his arms behind his back, only his tongue was inside his mouth this time, eyes hard and face grim.

Hardison wanted to snap his neck. He wanted to rage at Eliot, scream, demand why he hadn’t jumped in after him. He wanted answers about why his best friend would have left him to drown in a swimming pool.

But he didn’t, because there was still a con to run and while Eliot hadn’t saved him, the fact that they were both alive meant that it was working. He couldn't ruin that and risk both their lives- again. He would be mad when they got out of there.

So, he walked up and dabbed his face with a wet handkerchief, still in character. “And what message should I convey to my employer?”

Moreau laughed and pointed at Hardison while looking down on Eliot. “I like this one,” then he said to Hardison, “That we can strike a deal.” He turned back to Eliot, “Up.” Eliot did as he was told while Moreau said: “Reminds me of Belgrade.”

Eliot didn’t reply to that remark, just turned and started to walk away as he told Hardison: “Come on.”

Hardison let himself be lead away, still conflicted about how he felt.

On the one hand, Eliot had lied to him – to everyone – about his connection to Moreau. He had led him here only to go off script without an explanation or plan and put Hardison’s life at risk. He had let him get pushed into the water and didn’t come to get him, he hadn’t even moved.

However, on the other hand, it was obvious that Moreau scared him, that there was a reason he didn’t want to talk and the little hazing ritual thing Moreau had forced him to do and itmade Hardison’s stomach twist, especially with how there seemed to be more of them and how Eliot had allowed that. Not just now, but in the past as well.

Still, trying to work it out, he said: “I know the chair, it sucked the air like a numatic, it gave me another 30 seconds. That better be why you didn’t come get me, ‘cause you knew I’d do that, right?”

He just wanted confirmation from Eliot that he had been safe the whole time, that Eliot wouldn't leave him to drown like that. It would be okay, he just needed a bit of reassurance that Eliot wouldn't have let him die like that.

“Yeah, Hardison,” Eliot grumbled sounding nothing like his usual grumpy self, while still managing a close imitation, “because I knew you were going to suck air out of a chair.”

“That better be why you didn’t come and get me,” Hardison tried again when the answer wasn’t what he wanted to hear in that moment, giving Eliot another chance to explain.

Eliot didn’t, he just kept walking through the stream of models and then out of the building without a word.

All the while Hardison was fuming. He had gone in there with trust, he had followed Eliot’s lead and he hadn’t given them away. He had done everything that had been asked of them and all he wanted in return was some sort of proof that Eliot still had his back, but Eliot was completely blocking him out, giving him the cold shoulder.

This was so not cool. Hardison deserved an explanation, deserved to know that he still had the other in his corner and that Eliot hadn’t done something stupid. He could demand a bit of security after what he’d been through, especially with all the people staring at him in his wet suit.

But at the same time… Well, Eliot looked a bit like a lost boy, which was totally weird on his face, especially if you knew him. Yet there it was, that bit of fear from before, resignation as well, along with a little bit of guilt and anger, though Hardison didn’t know who that was directed at.

Someof the anger he felt for Eliot was directed at Nate, who hadn’t listened when Eliot had warned him about Moreau, who had send Eliot in there when Eliot was obviously scared- well, not obviously, but the fact that he protested should have been enough. Most of the anger, however, was for Moreau, for what he had done to hurt his favourite hitter. Because Eliot was hurt that much was obvious from that encounter.

“Really, man? Nothing? I get nothing,” there was still a bit anger for Eliot left, enough for Hardison to out it. “I just got pushed into a pool. I nearly drowned, okay. And that’s- that’s not cool, not cool at all. You have anything to say for yourself?”

“No.”

Okay, so it was going to be like that. The anger from before came back, this was the third time he had let Eliot explain himself, but it seemed Eliot wasn’t about to. No, no, Eliot was quite happy to say nothing to Hardison at all, despite the fact that he hadn’t moved an inch to save Hardison’s life even while that was his job.

“Oh, no? He says no,” Hardison said. “No, because why would you tell me why you didn’t come save me while I was drowning, while you old boss watched. Which is another thing, huh, your old boss. Good old Moreau. Or should I say Damien?”

Eliot tensed, so he’d hit a nerve then. The hitter turned to him and hissed: “I will say no and you will shut the fuck up if you know what’s good for you.”

“Is that a threat?” Hardison could hardly believe his ears. Eliot threatened him all the time, but it was usually playful and about something stupid, not this serious threat that he would back up, if he went off Eliot’s tone.

“It might be. Maybe next time you won’t have a chair,” Eliot snarled back and okay, low blow, too low of a blow for Hardison to let go.

All the anger he had send to Nate or Moreau came back to point at Eliot. He didn’t care for his reasons, not right now, not after that. So he let it build up inside his chest as they walked to the meeting point, deciding to turn on Eliot as soon as he could, make him explain when he couldn't run or threaten.

So the moment they arrived with the others, who looked to be successful at least, he said: “Tell em what you did, Eliot. You risked my life.”

“We’re in,” Eliot ignored him as he talked over him like it was nothing, like Hardison hadn’t had to suckair out of a chair. “Moreau is going to give me the details about the auction tomorrow.”

“You? Why is he giving you the details?” Sophie focused on the right thing and Hardison promised himself to do something nice at her next show.

“I said we’re in. Just make the plan.” Eliot was angry and trying to deflect like he’d done before, but Hardison wasn’t having it. Not again. “Eliot worked with Moreau back in the day.” Everyone turned to look at the hitter, who had the decency to look uncomfortable. “A lot.” Then he demanded, “Tell,” before he sat down.

Nate got up from his place and started to walk towards Eliot. “We’ve been chasing Moreau for six months and you didn’t tell us.”

Eliot tried to explain while Nate kept on talking. He said something about finding a way around it and taking a shot, before snapping: “I’m protecting you!” They all fell quiet. “Last time I checked that’s my job.” So he did remember.

“Look, we can handle Moreau,” Nate sighed in the voice he used for some clients and marks, never on them.

“We’re out of our league, Nate,” Eliot had a sadness in his voice, but also a desperation for Nate to understand and Hardison couldn't help but think back on that flash at the pool. “Every one of Moreau’s men has innocent blood on their hands, every one of them. Every one of them-” he took a sharp breath- “are worse than me. You think you know what I’ve done? The worst thing I ever did in my entire life, I did for Damien Moreau and I- I’ll never be clean of that.”

Hardison had hacked as many files as he could find on Eliot, but Eliot was hardly ever caught and none of it was bad enough (comparatively) to get that reaction. He shuddered to think what a man, who paraded his men around like dogs, would make them do.

“What did you do?” Parker asked and he watched as pain filled Eliot’s eyes.

“Don’t ask me that, Parker,” answering seemed to take a lot out of him. “Because if you ask me, I’m gonna tell you, so please don’t ask me.” Hardison had never heard that desperation, nor seenthe relief when Parker nodded.

“Look,” Sophie got the attention on her, “we all have past. You don’t have to tell us anything, Eliot. But we’ve learned the hard way we gotta be straight with each other.”

It was quiet as they all remembered Sophie’s double cross. That had been painful as well and Eliot had been the most upset out of all of them, which seemed hypocritical in hindsight. Still… Hardison couldn't blame the paranoia with a ex-boss like Moreau.

The little power display was unsettling, yet Eliot here waseven more upsetting, just the tears threatening to spill were enough to convince Hardison that there was a good reason for Eliot’s silence and the anger he’d felt was fading.

Eliot had wanted to protect them all and even facing the worst person he knew and giving himself up like that was something he was willing to do for them, knowing all the risk. Hardison in that pool might have been mild compared to what could have happened and Hardison was glad not to have had that knowledge beforehand.

Damn Eliot for making it hard to be mad at him, it was so much easier to feel rage and betrayal than a sadness and frustration for something you couldn't change. Moreau had been the breaking point for Eliot and Hardison wanted to take the man down. Brutally.

Then always observant Nate noted: “So, uhm, you said that Moreau is going to give you the details of the auction tomorrow. Why tomorrow?”

Hardison dreaded the answer the moment the question had left Nate’s lips and Eliot delivered on all his fears. “Because he wants me to do something for him first.”

“I bet he does. What?”

“Kill Atherton.”

“Kill Atherton?” Sophie repeated. “You can’t. You’re not that man anymore,” and despite all that happened today, Hardison had to agree. He was still a bit angry, but now again more at Moreau rather than Eliot. His heart just ached for Eliot.

“You might have to be.” Nate surprised them all. “To get us in.”

“No, what?” Hardison cut in, he was looking at the specs and it was not looking good, but what Nate was saying was even worse. “We’re not letting Eliot kill for Creeper Moreau with his sick little games so that we can buy a bomb!”

“What?”

“The Rams Horn, it’s a bomb. A very big bomb,” he explained. “But first, what the hell, Nate. You’re not serious are you? I’m not letting you send in Eliot to kill someone for that asshole that almost killed me today and was very weird. It was like super uncomfortable and there was a knife for Eliot and he had to-”

“That’s enough, Hardison,” Eliot cut in before he could tell them about the kneeling. “Tell us about the bomb.”

“You’re not being serious right now, are you, man?” he asked. “I saw your face in there, okay. You were scared of Moreau. He scared you. You’re not going to work for that sick fuck again.”

“I’m not-” Nate was cut off by Sophie, who asked: “What on earth happened in there? You were really upset at Eliot a moment ago and you’re defending him and calling Moreau sick. What did he do to you two?”

“Hardison. Don’t,” Eliot warned.

A warning Hardison did not heed. He had seen enough today to know that no matter how angry he was at Eliot for leaving him, he would never – never– let Eliot anywhere near Moreau again. The hitter had been scared and anyone who could scare Eliot was bad news and not someone Hardison let people he cared about close to. The emotional jojo-ing was a bit dizzying.

“Well, first off, he pushed me into a pool and nearly let me drown. I had to suck air out of chair, okay,” he began with himself, lulling Eliot into a false sense of security, which was kind of mean, but deserved, in his opinion,seeing the circumstances. “And he made Eliot do this weird submitting, parade, show dog thing. It gave me the creeps and was just plain sick- sick, I tell you.”

“Hardison, fucking stop. They don’t need to know all that,” Eliot hissed. “It was absolutely nothing, he was practically mild. We’re lucky he didn’t need a toe as proof.”

“What?!” Hardison squeaked, remembering the medical report he’d found on Eliot that showed he missed a left toe.

Eliot ignored him and told the others: “The pool was pretty bad, but he had enough air. He was under for one minute and twenty second, a human can go without air for three minutes. We were lucky and we’re in. He believes us, let’s use that. Nate, the con.”

“Alright-” Nate started, but was cut off again, this time by Hardison, “You have to explain how you nearly chocking on his fingers while he held a knife to your forehead is not bad. Please, try, I invite you. But you’re not just letting it slide. That was creepy as fuck.”

“I get it,” Eliot growled, “Moreau sucksand likes being in control and having power over others. He liked having power over me. It was creepy and uncomfortable, I know, I was there. Now drop it, Hardison. It wasn’t the first time, won’t be the last, certain things just happen and it could have been way worse, so. Let. It. Go.”

“What do you mean ‘won’t be the last’?” Hardison shot back, ignoring how the others followed their conversation like it was some sort of violent tennis match.

“I have to go kill a man and report back to him,” Eliot growled. “Reporting back to Moreau- well, he has his own ways, if you’re under his control. Nothing makes the most powerful man in the world look more powerful than showing that full grown men will kneel for him. Shit’s in the past. Now. Move. On.”

He was really hammering in those last words again, but before Hardison could reply, Nate cut them both off: “I will hear more of this in a minute, but Eliot isn’t killing anyone. We’re pretending he’s murdering someone.”

“You can’t fool Moreau like that, Nate,” Eliot protested, but it wastiredly and in a defeated tone that Hardison hated immediately.

“No, we can. I get that you’ve been wrapped up in his world for longer than we have and that you know him, but you can’t let the fear and image of him you have in your head blind you to what we can do to him,” Nate said gently. “You fooled him today, you can do it again. He’s not invincible.”

It was interesting to watch Eliot’s face as it went through multiple emotions. From despondent hopelessness, to a sadness, to guilt, to a bit of pride and ending on a slight bit of hope that disappeared the moment Nate asked what Hardison and he had been talking about.

“‘S nothing, Nate,” he tried to wave it away once more, but with all their eyes on him, he couldn't do anything, but give in: “Moreau does this – I guess you can call it a trick – with his men, where he has them kneel, usually with a knife or other weapon that they give to him. It’s something for show, because while not everyone is intimidated by money, everyone knows power when they see it. All of us know them, it’s just a show. Came with the job.”

“So why were you talking about it as if he did it in private too?” Hardison was so glad Nate knew which questions to ask and how to get answers, because while he didn’t want to hear it, he also desperately wanted to know and Eliot would never tell him.

After a moment of hesitation, Eliot gritted: “It started as a show, but he liked it, I could provide it. It was part of his need for power. He’s always been power hungry and this was just another thing he could get, so why not, you know? So, when you give a rapport, you kneel. There are different ways and levels- not important, but you kneel. It’s usually one on one, but it was also a punishment to have to kneel in front of everyone.”

So what Eliot had to do today. It was a punishment as well as a parading tool. It was meant to humiliate and drive home who was in charge. And it had been effective. It had been effective and that sucked the most, because Eliot had been rattled and Moreau was inside his head.

Sophie looked disturbed to say the least, she had never heard or seen anything like that in all her grifts among the most powerful. “Elliot that’s terrible. You had to go through that again, I can’t ima-”

“No, stop. All of you stop,” Eliot cut her off. “It wasn’t terrible, just something that happened. It wasn’t the worst he could have done, not the worst I’ve done. It’s over now and you all need to shut up. We don’t have time for this. Hardison just told us the Rams Horn is a bomb, we have other things to focus on that poor little me having to sit on my knees, okay.”

And while Hardison didn’t agree with the ‘having to sit on my knees’ description of the events, he did have to agree that they had other things to worry about right now, so he explained the bomb and the relation to the battery as Nate set out the con.

Hardison hated having to let Eliot go with Chapman to fake Atherton’s death. His mind was kept off it by having to find a white male John Doe (which was harder than it looked, okay, Nate. Can’t have demands about a corpse, alright).

He hated it even more when Eliot returned and demanded to know if everything had gone okay, slight panic in his eyes. He also hated it when Moreau called him, telling him he hadn’t lost his touch and that they were in. Eliot’s eyes hardened at the voice and Hardison noticed how Sophie and Nate marked the slightly tremor in his hands as he grunted back. But he was glad Eliot hadn’t had to report in person.

Still, there was a con to run and both had parts to play, so Hardison couldn't stay to ask Eliot about it again.

A con that quickly went to shit.

The battery was not where it was supposed to be, they had to hijack a fucking train and diffuse a bomb – well more set it off, but differently while running for his life through said train, but that was his life – while Nate and Eliot were unreachable and things were probably going to shit on their end as well.

Next time he saw Eliot, the man had lost a shirt and looked more haunted than before, though neither he nor Nate said anything specific as to how they got there, making Hardison dread. He knew better than to ask now, however, there were still other things he wantedto talk about with Eliot.

Nate had given all of them a chance to walk away. He always did. No one was at Leverage without wanting to be there and Hardison was glad when Eliot stayed, when he didn’t walk even when they went after his worst nightmare. Eliot would have his back, Hardison knew that, but the reminder was nice after today.

While Nate was off planning and the other’s were asleep, Hardison sat down next to Eliot at the closed bar. None had been willing to go to their own apartments after the day they’d had.

Eliot acknowledged him with a nod, but didn’t make eyecontact, just stared at the bar. After a moment, Hardison opened: “I’m not mad at you anymore for the pool, man. We cool.”

At that Eliot looked up, his surprise quickly hidden.

“Like, I’m not happy about almost drowning,” he said, “but I get why you did it. And you were counting, even if you blew me off, you knew exactly how long I’d been under and how much time I still had. Can’t be mad when you just did your job.”

“Hardison, I almost got you killed, didn’t even flinch when they threw you in,” Eliot replied. “You are allowed to be mad at me. I won’t bite. Not now at least.”

He huffed at Eliot’s reply, then sighed, of course Eliot thought he was just pretending not to be mad anymore. No, cause why would anyone genuinely not think Eliot wasn’t a bad person for a change? Okay, after today, kind of fair, but still.

“I said I wasn’t mad, dude, just take it,” Hardison told him. “I know you won’t bite me. I was just mad, because I didn’t understand and you just brushed me off.”

“And you understand now?” Eliot raised a disbelieving eyebrow and Hardison could almost believe Eliot was challenging him, hoping for a fight. But Hardison wasn’t in the mood to fight, he just wanted his hitter having his back and all being good again. He was tired of all of this martyr bullshit.

“Yeah, I understand,” he gave Eliot an unimpressed look. “You think you’re the bad guy and just like Moreau. You want to blame yourself for what he did, because you worked for him once and that makes you just as bad, but it doesn’t. You gotta stop, man. I said I wasn’t mad over the pool, believe me when I say that.”

“You don’t know me,” Eliot growled, downing his beer.

“No, I don’t,” Hardison agreed. “I don’t know all you did before we met, I don’t know why you find certain things distinctive, when your eyes go blank from time to time I don’t know what you’re remembering and I don’t know why Moreau scares you so much. I don’t.”

“Is there a point, Hardison?” Eliot gritted out.

“The point is that I don’t care that I don’t know that stuff, because I at least know the you now, I know the Leverage you and I like that you, okay,” Hardison explained. “You are my friend and I just want to hurt Moreau for what he did to you, because he did something to you, I could see it, so don’t even try to deny it.”

“Look, I get that you believe that,” Eliot said, “but I’m not who you think I am. I’m- I’m not anyone’s friend, alright. I don’t do that sort of stuff and I’m never going to be just the me from now, that’s just unrealistic. So thank you, but you’re not going to fix me or something like that through talking to me.”

“You’re deflecting about Moreau,” he pointed out.

“And you’re deflecting about what I told you, Hardison.”

“If you don’t wanna talk, man, that’s cool. I don’t agree, but cool. Your tale with Moreau is none of my business,” he said. “However, you can at least do me the courtesy by being honest.”

“Alright,” Eliot nodded, “Leave me the fuck alone, Hardison.” Somehow he hadn’t seen that bluntness coming. “I don’t wanna talk with you about ‘my tale with Moreau,’ he’s a dick that I made the mistake of working for and you don’t need to go poking in that mess. You don’t need to hear my shit.”

“Okay, cool, but I don’t mind listening to your shit,” Hardison said, “Just FYI. Your business is your business, but don’t hold back on my account.”

“You almost drowned today, you can do with a bit of break,” Eliot said, but he didn’t argue about wanting to talk about his shit (he always did that thing where he didn’t say what he wanted, but let other decide to urge him on, so he could blame it on them)and Hardison felt this was his window if he wanted Eliot to open up.

“Probably, but leaving me alone with those thoughts is also not all that great, so please, burden me with your shit,” he said. “It’s always easier to think of someone else’s problems and it might be useful for when we go after him. And I’m curious about how the kneeling thing started. Indulge me.”

At that Eliot chuckled and the angry tension that had been between them dissipated slightly, as he nodded. “I actually started it. The kneeling.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I was in charge of this mission with some terrorists, but they had money – recent dealings, not important – and Moreau wanted to intimidate them. A few of his things had been targeted and he wanted them to stop,” Eliot explained. “I had to come up with something that showed that Moreau was powerful when he couldn't just pay them off.”

“And your answer was kneeling?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“The leader we were meeting was of an old Sultan line, used to have a lot of power and prestige, so he would appreciate the value of that gesture,” Eliot shrugged as if it was normal. “And I had been involved in a bit of his business, so he knew I wasn’t the type to be messed with.”

“So, how did that convo go?” Hardison couldn't help but imagine a grumpy Eliot just telling Moreau straight up that he would kneel and that would be a hilarious image, if it wasn’t Moreau, who was terrifying and didn’t care if he hurt people. “Did you kneel like today?”

“Nah, not like today, just kneeling while I was the only one fully armed,” Eliot answered. “It was a simple power show. And I introduced the why first, Hardison. I’m not stupid.”

“Didn’t say that. Did not say that,” Hardison said, then added, “And after? Did it just evolve naturally from there? How does that even happen?”

“Why are you so interested in this anyway?” Eliot asked instead of answering. “It can’t be the strangest thing you’ve seen and I know you know it’s not the worst that happened to me. Why are you getting hung up on that detail.”

“Because it’s incredibly fucked up, Eliot. And you can’t even seem to see that,” Hardison blurted out, finally putting into words what had been bothering him about the whole thing.

“What?” Eliot choked out a bit surprised.

“Come on, man, you out here talking about it as if it is no big deal that a man, who held a lot of power over you forced you to do all sorts of things, like today he practically made you present yourself and finger-fucked your mouth. You really see no problem with that?” Hardison ranted now that he got the floor to do so, the thoughts that had been piling in his head all day, spilling out.

“At least he didn’t torture me?” Eliot shot back, but it was weak and fell flat.

“You realize that making that comparison only makes it worse, right? Like you get that?” Hardison wasn’t even sure that Eliot was aware of that. Eliot just shrugged, not saying anything for a moment, which only cemented the idea that he hadn’t even realized how fucked up it was.

“I came up with the kneeling thing, so it’s kinda my own fault,” he finally offered, as if blaming himself would make Hardison feel better.

“Stop, you aren’t making it better. It doesn’t matter who came up with it, he used it against you as some sort of ego trip, just because he could and that’s not okay. What he did to you was not okay, Eliot. It just wasn’t.”

Eliot blinked dumbly at him and Hardison couldn't take this.

“It wasn’t okay. Yeah, I don’t know what you did, nor what he did. And no, this probably wasn’t the worst of it all, but it still wasn’t okay and I know of this now and seeing you blame yourself for it, fucking sucks, man. You didn’t deserve that. You didn’t.”

“Well, I- It- I wasn’t presentingmyself,” Eliot protested a part form a while back instead of engaging with what Hardison had told him.

“Eliot, man, I mean this in the nicest way possible, but we both know that’s bullshit and you’re trying to hide,” Hardison replied, hoping Eliot would see he disagreed for Eliot’s sake and not just to be a dick.

The hitter’s shoulder’s sagged slightly and he nodded. He softly explained: “It was for the Russian mafia, you know how they can be about power. The- the guy, he was gay. One of our sources had seen him go into a certain type of brothel, if you know what I mean, and- well, Moreau decided to use that. He told me to make it more explicit and-”

Hardison waited as Eliot cut himself off with a blush of deep shame, swallowing hard as he regathered his thoughts again.

“He told me to make it more explicit and- and he implied some stuff about getting private security from Moreau if the deal went through,” Eliot’s voice was barely a whisper at the end and Hardison’s heart had dropped to his stomach at the end of the sentence.

“Moreau- he- he whored you out?” he choked, immediately wanting to slap himself for his word choice when Eliot curled in on himself. “Hey, man, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said it like that, sorry. But that’s abuse, like sexual abuse. Rape even. Are you okay?”

“I could have said no,” Eliot whispered, instead of denying it.

“Could you?” Hardison asked gently. “Because from where I’m standing, he could threaten you with both unemployment, torture and death, so that kinda sounds like forced consent. That’s not a real yes, not under those circumstances.”

“Still could have said no, I could have taken him,” Eliot pointed out, refusing to believe that what had been done to him was bad.

“Maybe you could have taken him, but you were scared of him,” Hardison kindlyexplained. “I saw your face. Do you really think you could have said no to him? Back then? Or were you too scared to do so?”

“But-”

“No buts, Eliot,” Hardison cut in. “I know you like to think only the violence was bad, but deserved, but it’s not. Both of the violence and this was far from okay. Way too far from okay. He can’t- no one can give consent for you for those kind of things. No one. It’s invasive and seriously fucked up and nobody – nobody – should have to go through that, no matter what they did. Including you, alright.”

Eliot wasn’t meeting his gaze, even if his eyes flicked quickly to his once, only to flit away just as fast. He was obviously processing and Hardison let him, waiting patiently until Eliot reacting, deciding to base his next move on Eliot’s reply.

“It wasn’t that bad, not like he made me do it often,” Eliot finally said after a long silence and Hardison’s heart broke when Eliot still didnot get it and he vowed to punch Moreau in the face at least once, maybe more.

“Once is already too terrible for words, Eliot,” Hardison told him, wondering how his day went from trying to run a con to being incredibly upset with Eliot to trying to explain to the hitter that getting raped was bad.

The hitter didn’t verbally react to that, but Hardison watched as pain and guilt warred on his face, until there was a bit of relief mixed in. He was doing good in telling Eliot he hadn’t deserved it, even if it took a while for him to believe it.

“Moreau was a sick bastard,” he said, then he suddenly remembered Eliot telling them that Moreau liked it and that he could provide it and felt a bit of sick in his throat. Carefully he asked: “You- you don’t have to answer, but did- did Moreau- did he ever…?”

“He was never truly into that sort of thing, liked the power trip of holding it over your head as a maybe more than going through with it,” Eliot tried to assure him, but it fell flat. “He only did it once, to create a threat of what he could do. I think he only did it to me, I was his favourite.”

God, what Hardison didn’t want to break Moreau’s body. How dare he torture Eliot like that. How dare he make Eliot think that only doing it once would be reassuring when the reason was so that he could torment Eliot with the thought of doing it again. A hot pang of guilt and anger shot through him as he recalled the flash of fear came back in full force after Moreau had asked him to kneel for him again, like he had done for the Russian, which he let Eliot get raped by and how he had said it had always been his favourite.

“Can I touch you?” he asked, unable to verbalize all of that just yet.

Eliot looked confused at the question, which hurt as well, but he nodded and Hardison didn’t hesitate sweeping Eliot up into a hug, feeling how he tensed before melting into it.

“I’m going to murder him,” he whispered. “I’m going to murder him and enjoy every second of it. Not a little bit of guilt.”

“Don’t,” Eliot warned and it spoke testaments to how he was feeling that he hadn’t pushed Hardison off yet.

“Why not?” Hardison challenged.

“Because he doesn’t deserve to have control of your life as well.” It was a simple answer that hit him right in the chest, because yeah, Moreau controlled Eliot’s life, had controlled Eliot’s life for a long time and it had sucked. And even now the hitter was protecting him from that, from the worst person he ever met. Hardison hated himself for doubting Eliot earlier that day.

“Okay, no murder, but a lot of hate. I’m going to make his life hell while we take him out,” he conceded. “And I’m gonna keep telling you that you didn’t deserve that and that it was fucked up, alright?”

And in the end that was all he could do. No matter how much he wanted to jump in and fix it all, he couldn't. This was not something he could fix in a day, no bug he could work out or code he could rewrite. He could only keep on telling Eliot that it hadn’t been his fault and that it was fucked up and undeserved, while he hoped it would have impact.

“Yeah- yeah, okay,” Eliot answered, voice a bit broken.

Hardison squeezed Eliot tighter, then waited until Eliot was ready to let go. When he was, he let go as well, but stopped to lay his hands on Eliot’s shoulder and look him in the eye intently. “I am glad that it’s you, who has my back. I’m glad you survived, even if I wish you hadn’t needed to go through that.”

There were again unshed tears in Eliot’s eyes and Hardison wondered if Eliot could cry, or if that too had been taken away from him through all the hardships he was forced to go through.

Eliot lay a hand on his and nodded, before making some excuse to leave and Hardison watched him go, knowing to give him some space, while also vowing to himself to keep a close eye on him.

Still, his shoulder’s were lighter than they had been earlier that day and Hardison decided to count that as a win. While he couldn't take all of the pain away, he could make sure that Moreau was a demon that Eliot never had to meet again and he would do that, no questions. Because despite all the bickering and the threats, Eliot was his best friend and he would do anything to make him happy and give him a respite from all that haunted him.

A/N:

I did all the dialogue from hearing alone, so at some points I guessed what was the best, so apologies for anything wrong in the lines from the show itself.

The kneeling part is inspired by bemusedlybespectacled's fic: The Retrieval Job, which I highly recommend

Starring: the feeling you get when your friend tells you something that makes you want to punch a person and then goes ‘haha, it was nothing, lmao’

Also this is my first time writing anything like this, so please do point out if I was insensitive anywhere. If you’ve ever gone through something like this, that was fucked up and you didn’t deserve that. I hope you found people who can make you believe that, because it’s true.

#RR writing #tw: referenced rape #tw: past rape #tw: rape mention #tw: victim blaming #tw: internailzed victim blaming #tw: abuse of power #leverage #eliot spencer #eliot spencer angst #damien moreau #moreaus mindfuckery basically #alec hardison #leverage tv

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imnotwolverine · 3 years

Text

The Accidental Family - Chapter 7

Henry Cavill x OFC - multi-chapter

< Chap 6 | Chap 7 The Accidental Family

Disclaimer: fluff and mild bit of angst

Word count: 1.790

Author’s note: Okay, this was so much fun! And, I know it’s a little early, but let me hereby send you my well wishes for the new year. May the new year be accident-free, healthy, happy..and hopefully involving some much missed hugs with friends and family! ❤️

(Link to my Masterlist)

How much can change in three months? Apparently everything. Just three months ago Henry had been the lead actor in a successful tv hit-series, father to a brood of children at home whom he barely ever saw in between shoots. Then, one unfortunate accident on his motorcycle later, he forgot about the life he had led the past 5 years, the scars beneath his hairline reminding him that it wasn’t a dream; this was real. One day he was a single man, the next he was a husband and dad.

And now here he lay, in bed, four kids sprawled atop him, a slight sheen of sweat covering his hairy chest as he woke from a restless dream, his limbs all tangled with his children who were still fast asleep.

It was the end of summer and they sure felt like tiny little furnaces, their hands and feet poking awkwardly in his ribs and thighs.

Not that he’d ever complain.

They had been the most happy little outcome of one not so happy accident; where he had dreamed and wished and hoped for a family five years ago, here it was. All feet, clingy, sweaty hands, and drooling, snotty noses that prevented him from moving, even if he wanted to.

Trying his best to reach out his right arm, he blindly searched for the soft skin of the other adult in this bed; another happy outcome of the accident. A wife, her fingers entangling with his as she slowly sat up a little, Piper, one of the twins clinging to her neck like a little koala bear.

‘Hey,’ She murmured, squeezing his hand.

Henry grumbled something indiscernible, Phoebe’s chuckle warm in Henry’s heart as she slowly shook her head, falling back into her pillow. All the while, Piper could not give a damn about her mother waking up; she remained completely knocked out, arms hooked around her mom’s neck as she dreamed about becoming an elephant trainer..or perhaps an equestrian - the strong headed little girl hadn’t quite decided yet.

‘We need a bigger bed.’ Henry yawned, trying his best to stretch out his legs, only to be welcomed with groaning children and even meaner hands fisting into his chest hair. ‘Ooooph. Okay. Max. Maxxy-max. Wakey-wakey.’ Henry tried.

‘No.’ The youngster said, smiling with shut eyes as he kept his hand firmly fisted into his father’s chest hair.

‘Yes.’

‘No.’

‘Well, what I say goes. And it’s a yes from me.’

Max finally opened his blue eyes, his lips jutting out in disagreement. ‘But you told us we could be in bed ALLLLL day.’

‘I said all morning. Since you all slept the whole night through, the lot of you. But now it’s time for some food. And Kal needs a walk - as do you.’

‘But he’s a big dog,’ Max whined, splaying out his limbs, hitting little Cole smack-bang in the face.

‘WAAAAAAAAA.’ The young one cried, but Max didn’t care, continuing undisturbed:

‘..and big dogs can take care of themselves.’

‘Ah, so you did listen yesterday. Haha. Now..Is this you telling me you’re going to make us breakfast? Are you a big boy?’

‘No!’

Henry snickered as the young boy shot an annoyed look at Cole who was crying his eyes out. Cole seemed to have an endless supply of tears - and every single little thing could get the toddler to show just how good he had gotten at crying.

‘Pfft dadddyyyy.’ Max sighed.

‘Yes?’ Henry smirked as the boy let go off his chest hair.

‘Only if its pancakes.’

The other children also blinked open their eyes; ‘PANCAKES?!!!’

Yawning with mild exhaustion, Phoebe shuffled into the kitchen, being welcomed by the smell of pancakes, freshly ground coffee and something sticky that was now dragging behind her slipper.

‘Shit,’ She mumbled, looking down at the sticky wrapper that had stuck to her slipper, smearing something honey-gold over the kitchen floor. ‘dammit.’

Looking up, she wanted to ask Henry for a wet cloth to clean up, only to notice that he had totally zoned out, slightly melancholic eyes staring out at the kitchen island as he leaned into the kitchen counter.

‘Babe?’

Henry looked up, blinking away his thoughts.

‘You okay?’ Phoebe kicked off her soiled slipper, walking with one bare, one slippered foot towards him, the children all somehow keeping it relatively quiet at the kitchen table as they snacked on their favourite breakfast.

‘Yea..’ Henry’s melancholic eyes wrinkled as he forced a gentle smile, hiding what was going on being those crystal blues.

For a moment Phoebe felt her heart sink at the sight of this. She knew there could be relapses. That it was still very likely that Henry would become overwhelmed, forget again or decide this life was not for him.

With a hesitant hand she touched his arm, his eyes looking down at where her fingers traced his skin, burning him with the gentlest of touches.

‘I could have died that day.’ He said softly, looking at the long trail of honeyed residue that had smeared out over the kitchen floor. He sighed. ‘I could have never woken up. Left you alone in this mess.’

‘Hey..where’s all this coming from?’ Phoebe quickly looked at the kids sweetly munching on their pancakes, their faces messy with powdered sugar, before hinting they’d best have this conversation in the hallway.

‘No, no. It’s…’ Henry sighed and opened his arms for her to melt into, her body eagerly doing just that; she could never get enough of his hugs, especially now she had to savour every moment she got with him - the gnawing fear of him leaving her was present everyday, especially now the kids were back home. It wasn’t easy to fall into a life of taking care of four very demanding kids. Let alone suddenly having a wife.

Even if he might have always wished for it, it could still be too much. Would he tell her if it was too much?

‘Feebs..don’t worry. I just, I mean. I was thinking, this morning, in bed, with the kids in our bed, I...’ He sighed and let his hand trail over her cheek, brushing a rough thumb over her smooth skin, some blond hair catching between his fingers. He looked at the gold in his hand, twirling it a little through his fingers as he felt his wife’s arms tangle around his back, pulling herself even closer to his chest.

Perhaps it was better that he lost the Witcher gig. Had to look for a different career. Perhaps he could be..home more. Could..

His eye caught the movement of one determined four year old climbing off his year, mug of juice precariously held in chubby little fingers. Anddd…

‘Sam!’ Henry called out for him, but it was too late, blue eyes looking up from his little task of walking over to his mom and dad, to miss the slipper that his mom had discarded in the sticky residue, his little mouth making a comical little “o” as he tipped forward, plastic mug falling from his fingers and…

Henry snorted out laughing as the juice flew all the way up to Phoebe’s legs, her lips letting out a little squeak as she quickly looked around.

In moments the calm kitchen was chaos again, the other kids wanting to leave the table, Sam crying out loud for thinking he had done a bad thing, Phoebe trying to clean up the mess and Henry squatting down to console the crying wee one.

‘Hey hey hey - it was only an accident. I’m here...daddy’s here.’ He wrapped his large paws around Sam’s little shoulders, pulling him in for a hug that was eagerly accepted.

Sam snottily nodded into Henry’s shirt; it was like laundry day never ended with four kids ruining every piece of clothing one could own. But, in that moment Henry didn’t care, his arm lifting up Sam before he looked back at Phoebe, who was now rinsing out the juice-soaked cloth, her midnight blues looking back at him with curiosity.

‘And in case you wondered; I’m not going anywhere mama-bear.’ He stepped in and waited for Phoebe to dry her hands before he could lean in for a kiss.

Phoebe hung the drying towel back on it’s hook, mischievous eyes looking back at him.

‘You better not. Memory or not..you did kind of knock me up with four kids.’

‘Mommy..what’s knocking up?’ Sam blinked up at Phoebe, who now used both hands to grab Henry’s jaw and pull him in for a kiss. Henry half chuckled into the kiss, his face leaning back again so he could look down at Sam, Sam’s mouth and nose a mess after something that must have been close to inhaling the marmalade he had smeared onto his pancake.

‘Matter of fact..I think I can’t remember, either.’ Henry’s face kept a playfully unabashed facade and Phoebe couldn’t help but gasp.

‘OH! No you…’

‘Maybe mommy could refresh my memory when we have some alone time again? Hmm?’ Henry cheeks turned up in a most mischievous smile.

‘And accidentally get me knocked up..again? Hmm? You want that?’ Phoebe laughed as Henry shrugged indifferently, not minding the idea one bit - what else was he to do with all this free time? Leaning forward she kissed him again, Sam squealing now he felt it was just a bit TOO much mommy-and-daddy-PDA for the moment.

‘Who said THAT was an accident?’ He grinned, before swiftly adding: ‘Later?’ Henry winked, carefully putting Sam back down on the clean floor. Clean for now.

Phoebe laughed and pulled him back in for another delightful mommy-daddy snog, shirts covered in kiddy drool, marmalade and what not.

‘Mmm..Sounds like a plan. I’ll make sure to ..refresh your mind.’

Henry tugged down his shirt to be somewhat presentable after having spent most of his Sunday stretched out on the couch, reading. He wasn’t sure who’d be at the door, but he had a hunch it were the neighbours who wanted to apologise for the slightly too loud birthday party they had yesterday.

Honestly, he hadn’t minded it one bit; he enjoyed a little bit of life in his ever quiet house.

Turning the lock, he swung open the door, expecting the apologetic face of Rita or James..but it wasn’t either of them. Instead he was greeted by a very different apologetic face, golden locks making his heart do a confused little flip in his chest.

Biting her lip, the blondine - Bee, was it? - shyly shuffled on her feet.

‘Hi.’

Henry quickly straightened up, scolding himself for looking so terribly disheveled in his sweatpants and wrinkly white t-shirt.

‘H-hi..Bee.’

‘Remember me?’ She smiled - she didn’t wear any make-up and he liked it.

‘Of course. Ha..Eh..’ Henry felt a slight blush creep up his cheeks. ‘Want to come in?’

Bee smiled. ‘I hope I don’t interrupt any..-.’

‘Oh no. Please..’ He stepped away to let her inside and blabbed on: ‘I was rather bored actually. Home alone..the usual. It’s nice to see you, I thought -’

Bee halted before him, raising her eyebrows as she waited for him to quiet, his cheeks turning an even deeper shade of pink. And Bee? She laughed. Of all the scenarios that had played out in her head, this one was the sweetest, funniest, bestest thing that could have happened. For a moment she didn’t scold herself for getting much too drunk three months ago. For a moment she thought that perhaps this one tiny accident in one bathroom stall at an after party, was the start of something good.

‘Tea? Wine? Eh...’

‘Oh! No wine...no..wine.’ Bee quickly followed Henry out into what she learned to be the kitchen. And what followed next was the most life changing cup of tea she ever had.

The End

(For now. I maybe kind of enjoyed writing about these two and their kids a bit TOO much 👀😸Would you like to read more, dear readers?)

General Tagsquad: @harrysthiccthighss @tumblnewby @magdelen69 @thereisa8ella @mary-ann84 @darkbooksarwin @summersong69 @madbaddic7ed @luclittlepond @maroonmolly @just-a-normal-fangirl18 @hell1129-blog @agniavateira @tillthelandslide @elinesama

@tryingtoliveonmywishes @ceilingfann @do-youseeme

#henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fluff #henry cavill x ofc #the accidental family #fluff #memory loss

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lady-celeste25 · 4 years

Text

Books- Ben Hargreeves x reader

(Hello, everyone. I got bored and decided to write this

TW: None)

The library was your sanctuary. Books were the best thing in the world. A quick escape through pages. So, every Friday, you would happily walk to the library, loading your arms up with books, and returning to your apartment to read. It was normally (favorite genre), but you always loved to go out of your comfort zone too! It was always more than five and you finished them every. Single. Time.

Today was no different. It was Friday, you had just gotten off a pretty okay shift of work, and you practically sped to the library. It was always exciting, like opening new gifts at Christmas, especially if they had gotten in new books. The library was huge, two stories of books and then another story for crafts and the spot where you can read to kids. You had even sometimes gone up and read books to the kids, it was a good way to spend extra time. When you walked in, the librarians immediately greeted you with a big smile. Being the Friday crew, they knew you so well.

“Hey, Jack,” you smile at the librarian, he offers a nod to show he’s listening. “Anything new?”

“Uhhhh,” he leans back a bit, thinking hard, “I think, if I remember, there’s a new one in Biographies and a few new ones in Fantasy.”

“Thanks,” you immediately beeline it to the Fantasy books. If there are two new ones, that’s the way to go.

When you make it to the Fantasy section, however, there were already two people hanging out there. A boy with messy hair and eyeliner on had his feet on the only table in the back. The other boy had thick black hair and he only wore fully-black clothes. He looked through the books on the other side from you with an easy smile. The boy with his feet on his table noticed you and gave you a wide smile that looked almost faked, tilting his head a bit. He gave him a straight-mouthed smile back and turn over to the shelves.

There was everything from The Sword of Shannara to Good Omens to Harry Potter. You grabbed The Sword of Shannara off the shelf, it would be good to read it again. As you fumbled through the shelf, down the rows, you grow a bit closer to the boy with thick hair. He had stopped in his tracks to read the summary of a book and was leaning on the shelf a bit. The new books were displayed right by him. As you walk to the new books, he walks over to the new books. As you reach out for the book on the shelf, he reaches out for the book on the shelf. Your hands knock together but were quickly pulled away from each other.

“Sorry!” You whisper out, jumping a bit. “You can have it.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” he whispers back. His voice was smooth. “You take it.”

“Seriously, I already have enough books,” you gesture down at the three books in your hands. “Go ahead.”

A small smile finally graces his lips, “thanks.” He grabs the book and adds it to the other one. He looks down at the books in your own hands. “The Sword of Shannara? I love that whole series. Have you read it all?”

You nod quickly, excited to see a fellow book nerd, “I love Terry Brooks writing! Which book is your favorite?”

“First King of Shannara, you?”

“The Wishsong of Shannara. Most people like The Elfstones of Shannara but damn that one was hard to get through! Definitely overrated.”

“Right? It was completely-”

“My GOD,” the boy in the chair flops dramatically, “Get a room. I don’t wanna hear about this anymore.” He plugs his ears. “LALALALALA.”

The boy scoffs and rolls his eyes, “please ignore my brother. He’s a bit of douche if you haven’t noticed.” You chuckled along with him.

“I’m (Y/N) (L/N),” you offer a hand. “It’s good to meet another Shannara fan.”

“Ben Hargreeves and ditto,” he shook my hand, probably a little too excitedly. It got to the point where your arm ached a little bit.

“Ben Hargeeves?” Your mouth drops a bit. “Like, The Horror, Ben Hargreeves?”

He looked a bit sheepish and turned nervous for a moment but he uttered out, “yeah, that’s me.”

“No, way!” You smile at him. “I’ve read every single one of your guys’ comic books. My friend group went as you guys for Halloween one year! We used to spend hours plaguing over news reports of you guys to see if any of you went to our school.” You laugh a bit at the memory. “It was really stupid, we probably should’ve known you guys didn’t go to like an actual school.”

“That’s sweet,” he scratches his head a bit.

“And I’m guessing… you’re Klaus?” You look over at the other boy who was hanging over the chair, staring at both of you.

“The one and only,” he nods.

“Man, you really do know us,” Ben laughs. “It’s almost stalkerish.”

“Ah, it’s always the bookish ones,” you snap your fingers. “I’d watch out Hargreeves.”

Ben laughs even harder, “alright, okay. It wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Beeeen,” Klaus groaned, “I want to go now. Come on, man.”

“Fine, just give me a minute,” he rolled his eyes and gave me a ‘Can you believe him?’ look. You shake your head. “Wanna go check out our books together?”

“Yeah, I would love that,” you say, smiling.

Together, you guys approached the open librarian and Ben lays his books down first. She quickly checked his stuff out but when it came to you, she took longer. You knew her of course, one of your favorite librarians. Ivy and you had sometimes even gone out to brunch a few times. Same book club and stuff.

“(Y/N)?” Ivy gave you a sly smile, keeping her voice quiet. “Who’s that?”

“Ben,” you mumble back, barely making eye contact.

“So, you got a boyfriend and didn’t tell me?” Ivy asked.

“Shut up, Ivy,” you hiss. “Not every guy I talk to is my boyfriend.”

“Given your talking with guys history, which is just Jack,” she pushes her hair back, “you’ve got yourself a boyfriend.”

“Please check out my books,” you groan, looking over at Ben. He just stood there with an unknowing smile on his face. As she kept on scanning your books, she kept on turning her eyes to him and nodding at him. You rub your eyes in annoyance but hand her your library card. Once she’s finally done, Ben runs back up to the desk.

“Can I borrow a pen and some paper?” He asks quickly, almost tripping over his words.

Ivy just nodded and handed him some printer paper and slid a pen along with it. Ben started scribbling down something as Ivy gave me my books. He had his arms up, guarding the paper so no one could see. Ivy grinned knowingly and you tell her ‘shut the hell up’ with your eyes. Finally, he folded it up a bit and then gave it to you. Ben opened his mouth to say something but Klaus being Klaus, as far as you could see, interrupted.

“Benerino, it’s time to go!” Klaus screams, making everyone glare at him. “You had your nerd time now drive me to the liquor store please!”

“Yes, hold on,” Ben says back calmly. He then turns and smiles at you. “So, see you around?”

“Yeah,” You nod happily. “See you around.” Ben nods and then walks out, grabbing Klaus’s arm and pulling him out.

“Well, take a peek at the note,” Ivy said with excitement in her voice. You shrug your shoulders and finally open up the note. It read:

(Y/N),

Here’s my number if you ever wanna talk about Shannara again over coffee or something.

(888)-(888)-(8888)

Ben

Next to his name was a small drawing of a ghost it was actually really cute. You grin down at the paper and you fold up the paper, putting in the back pocket of your jeans. Picking up your books you look at Ivy with your smile and start to walk out.

“Wait, (Y/N)!” Ivy said. “What did it say? Don’t close that door. I wanna know-”

And you left her, excited to call Ben later today and set up a coffee date with him.

#tua #the umbrella academy #ben hargreeves #ben hargreeves x reader #fanfic #tua fanfic #fanfiction #x reader

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straightfacedstrangeness · 3 years

Text

Not that anyone asked (but seriously I’d LOVE for someone to talk to me about PokeSpe (just no spoilers past vol 13)) but since I made an offhand remark about my Top 5 favorite characters, it occurred to me that I actually DO have approximately 5 top favorite characters, and I’m procrastinating on work, so I’m gonna ramble

**just in case, note that a lot of this will revolve around my childhood experience with gender in a “I’m AFAB (and present-day me still identifies as a cis girl) but I don’t fit in with what media is telling me girls are like” way, a brief childhood feeling of homophobia, and probably general TMI about my opinions and emotions throughout my life, haha

1. Yellow

Okay, so, I was a little kid when Pokemon Adventures started coming out in English, back when manga was released as single-issue monthly comic books instead of complete volumes. So I was rereading the same chapters over and over while anxiously awaiting the rest of the story (and wound up missing a bunch of issues anyway)

I enjoyed the RGB arc, I thought it was fun, but I didn’t LOVE the series until Yellow showed up. At that age my ideal crush was “a cute boy my age who would be nice to me” and Yellow was presented to the reader as a cute boy my age who was sweet and kind and gentle, but also good in a fight, as all shounen protags must be. Extra bonus points because they had just a few physically weak Pokémon and tried to fight battles in a way that minimized damage to their own and the opponent’s Pokémon, which meant they fought in a particularly smart and clever way. And I was considered “smart” for being good at school, so being a SMART cute “boy” my age who would be nice to me, Yellow was PERFECT. I mean, I loved the arc in general because of the clever battles, and the mystery of what had happened to Red, why these people were after Pikachu, why Yellow was so secretive about themself and their mission, etc was really engaging. But also I adored Yellow as a character and partly in a “I wonder if ‘he’ would like me??” kind of way X’D So to my tiny child self who didn’t even know it was possible to like-like someone of the same gender (because I hadn’t read Cardcaptor Sakura yet XD ), the reveal that Yellow was a “girl” was devastating—I had to cross out floating hearts on at least one drawing of us holding hands (scandalous!) and, while kind of stunned and shaken for a while, decided that what I’d felt all along was a deep, intense desire to be friends X’D (which probably wasn’t too far from the truth since I was pre-puberty and later turned out to be asexual)

(Also note that I never got the RGB issue that had the chapter where Red helps a little ‘girl’ capture a Rattata—later proven to be Yellow’s backstory—so the gender reveal really came out of nowhere for me.)

But anyways, I still love Yellow as a character for all the above reasons, without the crush aspects because I’m way older than them now.

Also when I reread the series ten years ago, I finally realized “wait, aside from surprising the reader, there’s no real plot reason for Yellow to pretend to be a ‘boy’ except that Green told ‘her’ to—so why did ‘she’ do it?”...and because at that time I didn’t even know that nonbinary genders existed, I decided it was cus they had low self-esteem and pretending to be a different person gave them courage (the same reading I had for Mulan at the time). These days I’m more inclined to “yeah, I think Yellow’s nonbinary,” but that other interpretation was deeply relatable to me and only made me love Yellow even more.

2. Bill

Bill’s definitely a character I’ve grown to love more as an adult, since I’ve gone from seeing myself as “a protagonist doing cool things” to “a side character just living their life who hopefully gets to do something once in a while.” But as a kid and now, I like him mostly for the slapstick and goofy expressions and the (early chapters Viz translations) outrageous accent X’D My brain desperately craves endorphins and the best way to get em is through a good laugh.

But also, I liked that he was introduced as a goofy character-of-the-week who got into ridiculous trouble and had to be rescued, but then kept being brought back, was slowly built up to be the “smart sidekick who explains things,” and eventually got to the point where he was participating in big battles (the Yellow finale on Cerise Island). I rambled about this in the tags of another post, but I liked that he was a character who was “weak” without being “useless.” As a kid who was good at school, I was obsessed with being good at things and had developed a black-and-white view of the world where either you were “strong/smart” or “weak/stupid” to the point that failing or just being not-so-good at anything was devastating (it still kind of is), because that meant I was actually “weak/stupid” when I was supposed to be “strong/smart.” So it was kind of awesome that this guy who kept getting into trouble and having to be rescued—and didn’t even want to BE part of the final battle—managed to hold his own and get through it and help out instead of being a burden that dragged everyone down. Seriously, he used a MAGIKARP effectively—the Pokémon everyone makes fun of for being “useless” and he used its one attack to save his life!

(Bonus points for all this happening in contrast to my devastating childhood experience of stanning The One Girl Character in every popular shounen series, waiting desperately for her to get to do something in battle, and then her one spotlight episode revolved around her struggling because she was so weak...not only was that actually happening to a boy for once, it was actually happening in a more satisfying/empowering way :’D )

3. Gold

I have extremely specific tastes when it comes to “the dumb shounen/action movie protag,” because as a kid I hated it when the main character was “dumb” because I was “smart” (re: good at school) and people who were “dumb” shouldn’t deserve to be the main character and have all the cool powers and save the world and stuff. As an adult, I hate it when male characters are dumb and/or jerks but it’s treated as fine or even sexy(??) and the other characters fawn over them, and I generally still kind of hate it when characters who are dumb and/or jerks get the big important role when there’s a female character RIGHT THERE who’s more competent (and OF COURSE she has to wind up falling in love with him)

But anyway, I have extremely specific tastes, and Gold is it X’D He’s the perfect combination of “unshakably confident in his own stupid/egotistic views” and “treated as annoying and/or comic relief by the rest of the cast” with a bonus dash of actually being really clever in battle (so my inner child goes “Ah yes, technically, he is ’smart,’ and therefore...worthwhile“) Making me laugh while also impressing me is like the key to my heart.

4. Crystal

I’m too lazy to look it up, but when Viz was publishing Pokemon Adventures as monthly comics, they must have switched to publishing it as trade paperbacks only and/or had a huge gap between the end of Yellow and the start of GSC, because for YEARS I’d thought Yellow was the end of the series and was shocked the first time I saw later volumes. (My dad was buying us the monthly issues at the local comic store, and either they wouldn’t have ordered the trade paperbacks or he wouldn’t have thought to check those shelves.)

Anyway, that’s a long lead-in to the statement of “Crystal would automatically be my #1 or #2 if I’d read her arc as a kid.” She’s a girl, she wears pants, she’s EXTREMELY smart (genius-level “book-smarts” about every Pokémon’s behaviors and weaknesses PLUS being clever in a battle), was tough as nails (she KICKED her Pokéballs!!), had no interest in romance or her appearance, AND had a short arc about losing her confidence and training herself back up to full power. I would have KILLED for a character like that when I was a little girl being told that “girls don’t like action shows like Dragon Ball Z” (but I was a girl and I did???) and that girls were supposed to be pretty and obsessed with fashion and dating, and that girls were never the main character of action series, just side characters who either did nothing or got one chance to do something and were pathetically weak (see above, and/or Sakura’s fight against Ino (Naruto), those couple filler eps where Téa/Anzu played Duel Monsters (Yu-Gi-Oh), Videl getting pummeled by Spopovich (DBZ), etc).

So anyway, she’s awesome, she’s exactly the type of character I would’ve loved as a kid. The only reason she’s behind Gold here is because at my age, “makes me laugh” > “the kind of main character I used to wish I could be”

5. Green (the girl trainer...I’m just too loyal to the Viz version to call her “Blue”...)

I’m trying not to rehash the same “I’m a girl but none of the girls in my shows/comics are like me!” childhood woes over and over, haha, but as much as I always enjoyed Green for being extremely clever and outsmarting the boys and being funny when she did so, she always lost points with me for being “pretty” and flirting to get her way, because that put her in the box of “girls are supposed to be pretty and desired by boys and obsessed with their appearance and romance” that was so foreign and disheartening to me as a kid.

But her staredown with Ho-oh at the end of the GSC arc TOTALLY got me. As a sad adult with anxiety, watching characters who are absolutely terrified overcome their fear, watching characters who are completely beaten down struggle back to their feet and keep fighting, is like my ultimate power fantasy. That sequence genuinely had me in tears.

Also her bond with Silver is super precious, especially since that’s like the first time in the series we’ve seen her be genuinely emotional and vulnerable with someone instead of teasing or manipulating them.

Honorable mention: Sapphire

I haven’t gotten up to R/S in my reread yet, and I only read that arc once over like a weekend ten years ago, but I’m pretty sure she’s gonna be a Top Fave cus again there’s that “I'm not like other girls!” childhood feel (last time I’m saying it, I promise)

It’s a story arc where one protag wants to fight the gyms and the other protag wants to win the beauty contests, but the one who wants to fight the gyms is the girl!! And she’s the typical “dumb but extremely good at fighting” shounen protag but she’s the girl!! She’s feral and illiterate and a total tomboy and wins all her fights and she’s a GIRL!!!!

Anyway, those are my kids and my dude and my probably way-too-personal reasons why. If you wanna reblog, reply, or send an ask about your own faves...please

#pokemon adventures #rambling #crackpotawesomes #spent like an hour and a half on this oops

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abuttoncalledsmalls · 4 years

Text

Take A Giant Step - Chapter 5

fioWarnings: Alcohol, Angst, Anxiety, Language, and Penises

Pairings: Frankie Morales x f!OC

Word Count: 2.5K

A/N: Here is Chapter 5! If you would like to be tagged (or un-tagged) in upcoming chapters, please don’t hesitate to let me know. Shout out to the AMAZINGLY LOVELY @yespolkadotkitty for beta-ing this! Please enjoy. <3

Chapters: 1 2 3 4

Banner by @yespolkadotkitty

I pulled into the parking lot with fifteen minutes to spare. I flipped down the driver visor mirror to give myself a final look over before I got out of Carly. My smokey eye thankfully managed to withstand the early July humidity. I fished my tube of lipstick out of my clutch and added a fresh coat of ruby red to my lips. I glanced up and was relieved to see that my hair decided to behave. No frizziness or flyaway strands were present. The small rhinestone barrette looked nice as it kept the hair out of my eyes. I inhaled deeply and opened the door. When I got out, I made sure to check my shoes and dress. My red heels were unscuffed and free of any trailing objects. The red flare dress I wore was cooperating as well. No wrinkles, make-up stains, or unsightly bunching. I didn’t dress up very often outside of fundraisers and other official events. I was able to clean up well, but I wanted to look immaculate for Frankie.

As I glided into the restaurant, I saw Frankie sitting on a dark plush bench in the waiting area. He was hunched over his phone, texting away. He looked so different. His dark curls were free from the containment of his usually ever-present baseball cap. He wasn’t wearing his daily uniform of a worn t-shirt and jeans. Instead, he was donning a grey button up short sleeve shirt. White cranes and cloud outlines covered the shirt. He wore nice black pants with matching shoes. He looked good.

“Frankie,” I called out softly. He looked up, paused for a moment, and then broke out into a boyish grin. I was finally able to see that he was clean shaven. There was a little bit of five o’clock shadow, but that was it. While I still found him to be incredibly handsome, I did find myself missing his patchy beard.

“Maggie, you look wonderful tonight,” he said as he stood up. His mocha eyes softly sparkled. I felt my cheeks flush.

“You don’t look so bad yourself.”

“You ready?”

I nodded and we both walked up to the hostess’ podium.

“Hi. We, um, have a reservation for 7:00 under the name Morales.” The young woman smiled at us and looked down into her reservation book.

“Ah, yes. I’ll take you to your table.” She led us to a small secluded table for two. Frankie pulled out my chair for me. I felt a tad bashful - nobody had ever pulled a chair out for me like that. Before I could turn to thank him, he was already sitting in his seat. The hostess handed us our menus and informed us that our waiter would be with us shortly. She smiled one last time and headed back to her post.

“How was your day?” Frankie asked.

“Kind of low-key. I was able to work from home today, which is always fun. How about yours?”

“It was nice. I went to Andy’s to install some shelving units for him and then went to the grocery store for some things. Then I cleaned up a bit for tonight.”

“When you say Andy, do you mean board member Andy?”

“That would be the one.”

“Does that mean you’ve seen the pe-”

“Yep. The shelving units were for some new acquisitions.”

We shared a chuckle. Andy Simon was one of the oldest serving board members at Gallaway. He was a very generous older gentleman who was on the more subversive side of things. His life’s work was an expansive and world wide collection of statues and figurines. The running theme of these pieces were that they were all penises. It was a very well curated collection and Andy could tell you all about each piece in extensive detail. He hoped one day to open a museum to share his artistic assortment with the world.

“I like Andy,” began Frankie. “He follows his heart and does not give a single fuck if people like it or not.”

Our waiter came over to our table. He introduced himself as Josh. Frankie and I both wished him a good evening. He asked if he could take our drink orders. He turned to me first.

“Sure. I’ll have a glass of the Morli Neri Chianti, please.”

“An excellent choice. And you, sir?”

Frankie looked down at the drink selection at the back of the menu. He nodded his head and one of his trademark tongue bleps followed.

“Um, would I just be able to get a Bud Light or Miller Lite?” He looked uncomfortable as he looked down. I tapped his foot with mine to make him look up. When our eyes met, I gave him the most reassuring smile I was able to.

“Unfortunately, we are unable to offer those selections. What I can do is suggest a Peroni. It’s an imported light bodied Italian lager. It has a crisp earthy and balanced taste.”

“I’ll go with that.”

“Fantastic. While I get your drinks, you can spend some time looking over the menu. If you have any questions at all, please do not hesitate to ask me. Before I do head off, I would like to share that our specials tonight are a veal parmesan and a vegetarian lasagna.”

We thanked Josh and he nodded before he left.

“I’m afraid I’m not terribly cultured,” began Frankie. He rubbed the back of his neck.

“Pshh. It’s not about being cultured. It’s about chefs and managers trying to look more authentic and upper class. In reality, they just look pretentious.” A small smirk crept across his face and he opened the menu. We both poured over the dinner offerings.

“I think I’m gonna go with the spaghetti carbonara. What about you, Maggie?”

“The five cheese lasagna looks really good. Then again so does anything smothered in cheese. It’s my favorite food group.”

“What’s your favorite type of cheese?”

“I don’t discriminate. I love gouda, brie, dad jokes… You know, every kind.” Frankie laughed out loud. Making him laugh and smile was quickly becoming one of my new favorite hobbies.

“You’re charming and funny. Why in the world are you backstage and not on stage?”

I inhaled deeply. “The short answer is that I’m much better at the management side of things and I like it better. The long answer is that I suffer from major anxiety and that tends not to mix well with being the center of attention. One time, I almost passed out due to nerves from just giving a simple intermission announcement. If I had to have been out on stage with an entire audience looking at me, I would have had a full blown panic attack.”

Before Frankie could respond, Josh came back over with our drinks and took our orders. After letting us know that we made excellent choices, he strode towards the kitchen. We each took a sip from our glasses.

“How’s your beer?” He paused.

“It’s better than Coors Light.”

“That’s not exactly a ringing endorsement there, Frankie.” We both laughed.

“What about you,” I asked. “Why did you decide to become a pilot?”

“It’s pretty ridiculous.”

“Sir, my career is built around the concept of people playing dress up for a living. Ridiculous is my forte. On another note, I sincerely doubt your reasoning is as silly as you say.”

“You have to promise that you won’t laugh.”

I held up three fingers and gave him a scout’s honor.

“As a kid, I read comic books all of the time. I wasn’t a very strong reader, so I stuck with them instead of moving on to chapter books when the rest of my classmates did. If I had trouble with any of the words I could figure out what was going on just by looking at the pictures. Anyway, I loved Superman. He was my favorite. Growing up, I felt like Clark Kent. I was raised by an older couple who weren’t my parents. I was really quiet and kind of ignored by everybody. Clark was different too, but when he changed into Superman none of that mattered. He could just fly in the air, help people, and be accepted. He was noticed and people were glad that he was there. So I figured that by becoming a pilot for the army, I could do the same thing. I would be able to fly around the world, help people, and be important to something.” When he finished he thoughtfully traced the rim of his beer glass with his finger. I felt my heart break a little.

“I assure you, that is not silly or ridiculous. It’s incredibly sweet.” I wanted to add that I noticed him. That he was important to me. My fear of looking stupid in front of him intervened though.

As if on cue, Josh arrived with our food. We both perked up immediately. Nobody could tell that just seconds ago the beautiful man shared his part of his soul with me. Josh asked if we needed anything else and left us to our dinner.

The food was amazing. Hearty tomato sauce, rich cheeses, and perfectly al dente pasta had hijacked my senses. I looked over at Frankie.

“This is amazing.”

“It’s really good. I’m glad that my friend Milton recommended this place.”

“Is Milton one of your army buddies,” I asked as I ate my last forkful of lasagna.

“He was in the service, but we did not serve together.”

“Oh, well could you please thank him for me the next time that you see him?”

“I will be sure to do so.”

Josh swung by our table again to pick up our empty dishes and to refill our drinks. Once again, he asked if we needed anything and we assured him that we didn’t. As he left, I took a sip of my wine.

“Frankie?”

“Mmm?”

“Do you like cranes?”

“Cranes?” I pointed to his shirt. “Oh! Those cranes. One of the guys I served with - Will - was dating this girl a few years ago. She saw an article about throwing a luau themed party online and it became her mission in life to throw one. Will wasn’t into it at all, but she wore him down. Pope, Benny, Will, and I were out drinking when the party was brought up. Will was really hammering it home that his lady was requiring us to wear Hawaiian type shirts to this thing. We all laughed at him. We weren’t gonna wear that shit. That’s for retired people in Florida or something. When Pope, Benny, and I showed up to the party Will met us on the porch. He had three shirts in his hand - one for each of us. It was explained to us that if we didn’t wear the shirts, we didn’t get to go in. I personally think he was just doing that to stay in her good graces and continue getting laid. I do like the shirt, but it’s the only button down I have.”

“I think you make it look good.” He blushed.

“Speaking of the boys, they’re coming into town next week. The MMA circuit that Benny is with has an away match scheduled in town. We all try to go to as many of his matches as we can. You know, for support and that stuff. It’s the first time that I’m going to see the guys since I moved down here nine months ago.”

“That sounds awesome.”

“I’m pretty excited and I wanted to see if you would be interested in going?”

“Wouldn’t I cramp your style or worse, get in the way? It’s your night to see your friends that you haven’t seen in months. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll still be here to hang out afterwards.”

“You wouldn’t get in the way. I’ve told them a little about you. Just about how you’ve helped me and that you’re really smart and cool. They want to meet you. I get it’s not a play or a poetry reading. I’ll also admit that they can get a little rowdy, but they are good guys. I don’t want to pressure you in any way or make this uncomfortable. I completely understand if you don’t want to. All you have to do is say no and I’ll drop it.”

“I will be honest - I know fuck all about sports. However, if it means I get to hang out with you more and meet these people that are very dear to you, I am in.” His eyes lit up at my response and gave me the biggest smile.

Josh came around the corner and inquired if we wanted dessert. We politely declined. He then placed the check presenter on the table and told us that there was no rush to settle up. As the young waiter walked away, Frankie pulled out his wallet.

“Could I help with the bill? Or at least the tip?” He furrowed his brow at me.

“No. I promised to take you to dinner tonight. I want to take care of you like you did for me.”

When the check was settled. Frankie came around the table and helped pull my chair out for me again. He was such a gentleman and really made me feel good. I could feel that excited surge of hope start to form in my chest. Maybe I was special enough for him to take notice. On the other hand, maybe he was just showing off his good manners. I still was having a hard time trying to figure it out.

He walked me to Carly in the parking lot. The summer stars twinkled above us as a small breeze came by.

“I had a really good time with you tonight, Frankie. Thank you so much for dinner.”

“Thank you for being so generous and kind to me for the last few months. I had a lot of fun with you too.” A pregnant pause made its way between us. Frankie broke the silence.

“Would it be awkward to hug before we said good-bye for the night? Friends do that, right? It’s not weird?”

“Yeah - friends hug all the time.” My brain began to race at a million miles a minute. Would he use this as a chance to kiss me with those soft pillowy lips? Did he want me as much as I needed him? Or would this be an establishment of the Friend Zone?

I stepped into him and wrapped my arms around his soft middle. My head instinctively rested on his broad chest. As his arms embraced me, I felt overwhelmed. The feelings of warmth, safety, and concern flooded my entire being. We stayed that way for a good thirty seconds. When he broke away, I felt my heart drop. We said our good-byes for the night and he headed towards his truck. As I was getting into Carly, I heard Frankie shout.

“Maggie?”

“Yeah?”

“Text me when you get home? Just so I know that you’re okay?”

“Only if you do the same.”

“Deal.”

-----------------------------

TAGS:

@larakasser @absurdthirst @yespolkadotkitty @fioccodineveautunnale @wickedfrsgrl @agirllovespasta

#Frankie catfish morales #Frankie x OC #Catfish X OC #Francisco Morales #Frankie Morales #Triple Frontier #catfish morales fic #Frankie morales fanfic #Francisco catfish morales #abuttoncalledsmalls #Takeagiantstep

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absoluteyoongit · 4 years

Text

just dance [2]

⇢ pairing: bestfriend!Hoseok x dancer!Reader, more pairings to come

⇢ genre: fluff, some angst

⇢ word count: 3.3K

⇢ warnings: just some swearing

⇢ series summary: Jung Hoseok, your best friend since childhood, is one of the best parts of your life. You have always supported him with everything, including his band BTS. Hoseok always kept you a secret from the rest of the group, but now he’s ready to introduce you to everyone. Who knew your presence would improve the members lives, one more than others.

⇢ author’s note: sorry for the delay. I am working on a schedule for this so I can post regularly! banner made by the talented @purpleskies1999

_________________________________________________________________

Heavy breathing filled the otherwise silent studio, marking the end of BTS’ dance practice for the day. The boys had spent the past three hours straight working and all of them wanted a break.

Hoseok, regaining composure first, patted all the members on the back. After a ‘good job’ here and ‘better than yesterday’ there from their dance leader, signaled to the members that they could leave.

Yoongi, first to head out feet dragging, grumbled, “I want a nap.”

“I’ll start making some dinner," Jin muttered, following after.

“Dibs on shower!" Jungkook shouted.

“No way! I called dibs before practice started," Taehyung challenged.

“That doesn’t count.”

“Yes, it does!”

The two continued arguing as Hoseok watched the rest of the members file out. Jimin glanced back, “You coming?”

“Naw” Hobi sighed, “I want to try some things out before finishing for the day.”

Jimin nodded, closing the door behind him and the room was quiet once again.

Hoseok’s eyes left the door, moving towards his phone to play the song over again. He was a perfectionist, wanting to show up for the rest of the members and to do that he needed to practice more. He hesitated before pressing play, his mind wandered; the bags under his eyes felt extra heavy right then.

Hoseok couldn't deny it anymore, he was exhausted.

He was tired of the constant busy schedule. He loved his job but sometimes the group became so busy that the nights bled into days without so much of a wink of sleep. This went on for months at a time for them; it was too much.

Hoseok felt like he couldn't slip up once. He was considered the team's constant ray of sunshine by their fans, the media and even most of the members themselves. That was the world’s J-Hope. He was always there for his brothers when they needed a pick-me-up even if they never realized sometimes he needed one too.

The break the company was giving them this upcoming weekend could be hardly called an actual break. They were taking him and the boys to a natural spring for a ‘spa day’, which sounds nice on paper but Hoseok knew it was probably to film another Run episode. While filming those with the boys was usually fun the whole group craved an actual break.

Hoseok gaze dropped back to his phone, resigning to be the dance leader he needed to be for now. Before he could resume the music they needed to hone their routine for his phone rang. Your face popped up on the screen. The photo was blurry because he was in the middle of running away from you as he took it. You had caught him taking photos and flipped him off before chasing him. You always shied away from the camera and while the other pictures from that day were amusing, nothing says y/n more than a blurry image of you giving him the bird.

Hoseok’s eyes brightened at the sight, answering it immediately.

“y/n?! I haven't heard from you in a while. What is up my friend!”

He heard your chuckle from the other end, “Ah– you know the usual, just got done working for the day on a new routine I’m figuring out.”

“I’m doing the exact same thing. We are in sync still after all this time. I am touched,” Hoseok dramatically cried, wiping a fake tear away. Your unamused silence had him jumping back to his excited demeanor, “Anyways, will you tell me what the song is? Or do I have to find out when you finally post it like everyone else?”

“HAH! You’re not special. You’re gonna have to wait with everyone else- especially cause I want this one to be a surprise.”

Hoseok huffed. He knew he would not get anything out of you. Being stubborn was probably one of your biggest character traits but that was okay– he loved riling up your stubborn side as he pestered you. Almost as much as you liked cracking his sunshine nature. That was your dynamic. You two behaved like an old bickering married couple. If anyone observed him act the way he does around you they would have thought he was another person entirely.

Y/n brought out a whole other side to him, one that he thought was more real but the rest of the world didn't want to see. That's why you were so special to him. Besides all the good times the two of you had, you made him feel the most himself.

Your laughter died down, "Anyways I was just calling to check in on you and uh– to say that I missed you– just a little bit."

Hobi's smile turned solemn. He missed his best friend so much. The life he lived gave him few moments of reprieve, so much so he never had the time to hang or even talk with anyone besides the boys and sometimes his family, so he appreciated the little moments like this the most.

"Aish, y/n. Why do you have to turn things sad– you know I miss you so much too. I need more than just these boys hanging around me sometimes."

"I'm sure living with them, working with them and being friends with them leaves you wanting to escape sometimes– even if just a little. I know you love your boys though."

Hobi sighed, you weren't wrong. He loved the boys a lot but he wanted–no needed–some alone time. He couldn't even escape to his room if he desired because he still shared with Jimin.

You were much different than the boys. He missed dancing with you. He missed your loud laughter, he missed your constant teasing, he missed you. Maybe seeing you would shake this exhaustion away.

An idea popped into his head. He and the boys had their “weekend trip” planned but Hoseok was sure he could muster up a convincing excuse to escape it. Pure excitement and hope shot up his veins.

"What are you doing this weekend?" Hobi rushed out, effectively cutting off the rant you started about the crazy coffee lady from earlier that day.

"Oh– umm...let me think."

Hobi bit back a smile. He could imagine your thinking face as clear as day: nose scrunching up and eyes turning into slits as you looked up into the sky.

"I have a shift at work Friday night and then I teach a class at the studio Saturday mornings. I don't care about doing my homework for class, so I am free other than that. Why do you ask?" anticipation clear in your voice.

"Well because I am coming to visit you. I haven't seen you in months. So, I think I deserve some time with my favorite human."

It was your turn to smile, Hoseok hit a soft spot with that comment. You knew your friend had the biggest smirk on his face as he said that, knowing full well your soft but you don't like to show it. Comments like that make your heart constrict.

"You actually have time off? Bighit finally letting you off the leash?"

"Well not exactly. We do have the weekend off but all the boys are supposed to go on a trip together but I am going to weasel my way out for you."

You comically sob, "Oh! You'd do that for me? I can't believe the Jung Hoseok of BTS is going to escape his confinement for me. Get you a real hoe that ditches his bros for you. Hoes before bros this time."

Hoseok barked out a laugh, "Yes, the Jung Hoseok is going to abandon his bros for his favorite hoe."

"Your favorite hoe? I am your only hoe. THEE HOE. Hoseok's hoe," you challenged.

"Shit, okay, you're right you are my one and only hoe. Even though Taehyung likes to think he is sometimes."

Laughter breaks out between the two of you at your combined silliness. It felt really really good to talk to him like this. It was a rarity.

"Anyhow, when are you going to be gracing me with your presence. I know I got a pretty free schedule but I can't just stare at my door all day till you show up," you chuckled.

"When does your dance class end on Saturday? I can swing by after and we could maybe dance a little if you're not tired."

You scoff, holding two fingers up even though he couldn’t see, "There are two things I will never tire from: dancing and amusement parks."

A loud groan resonated from over the phone, "I still cannot believe I'm friends with someone who loves roller coasters. You will be the death of me."

"Hey! I ask for one thing and one thing only for my birthday, and that's for you to ride the biggest coaster at the park with me. That is not too much of an ask."

"Yah! it is for me."

"Whatever scaredy-cat. The point is that I will always have the energy to dance," you pause hearing his hum in agreement, "especially if it's with you," you end with a whisper.

Now Hoseok was even more upset than before. He needed to see you, whatever it took.

"I promise I'll get out of this trip with the boys and we can hang out this whole weekend, just the two of us."

The two of you stood in silence, only the sound of each other's breaths danced across your ears. It was weird. You knew you missed him, a lot, but talking to him now and hearing his voice felt different. There was a stronger ache in your heart, more so than you have ever felt before. You loved your best friend so much and it finally clicked in your head how much your life sucked without him in it daily.

"You better keep that promise, Jung."

"Have I ever broken a promise before?"

–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

"Excuse me, miss? Can I order?"

Your eyes that had been staring off into space snapped to the elderly man before you.

"Oh, my apologies sir! What can I get for you?"

You smiled taking his order but as soon as he paid and left your sight the smile faded. Glancing at the watch on your wrist, the slow ticking of the hands mocking you as you stared. You had another two hours of your shift left. You huffed, shifting your legs back and forth as you anxiously waited for another customer to distract you.

You were nervous. Which was totally unlike you but for some reason, you couldn't help it. This was going to be the first time you were seeing Hoseok in months but It felt longer than that. So much longer. At least that's what you tried to convince yourself as the reason why you were nervous to see your childhood best friend.

Maebum, your favorite coworker, could see something was very wrong from just the way you fiddled with your hands. The two hands looked dry and cracked as you continuously rubbed them in front of you.

"Hey sweetie, what's up with you today? I have never seen you this wound up." her gaze on you held so much worry. You try to smile to placate her but it didn't reach your eyes.

"I am fine Mae. I just had a long week." you lie.

She gave you a pointed look that screamed 'I don't believe a word you are saying'.

You sigh in defeat. Mae's superpower was reading people and detecting bullshit, it’s what made her a great manager. That power combined with her extreme compassion meant that she was not going to let this go.

"I just had a talk with my friend that I haven't seen in a while. He told me he was going to visit this weekend and I guess I'm kinda nervous– or something like that. I don't know."

You fiddled with your fingers more, glancing around the cafe in hope a customer would come in and save you from this conversation. You were already a nervous mess, you didn't need Mae trying to pry more information and feelings out of you.

"Are you nervous because you don't think things will be the same? Or is it something else?"

Mae's eyes searched yours looking for an unspoken answer.

"I guess it’s partly that? Maybe? I don't know. I think that's partly why I am anxious because I don't know why I am nervous at all.”

You groan in frustration "I just really miss him and hope things go okay because maybe that will mean I will see him more," you turn back to Mae with a dejected expression, "at least that is the wish anyway."

Mae softly grinned down at you, "I'm sure it'll all go well, sweetheart. If he really was your best friend seeing him will feel like the distance never existed in the first place."

At that assurance, your heart swelled. She was right. This wasn't the first time you saw Hoseok after a long break. Things were never awkward or weird, so why should this be any different.

"You know what, that actually helped a lot. Thank you Mae." a large grin plastered on your face.

She reached up and ruffled your hair, "Anytime sweetie."

Turning back to register you excitedly greet the next customer who walks in, ready to take their order. The rest of your shift passed quick after Mae’s intervention. Her words really did help but a small part of you could not ignore the subtle soreness of your heart. It felt as if careful hands cradled it, applying pressure that made it impossible to take a deep breath. You hoped those hands would not crush it.

–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Hoseok was nervous. That much was certain as his legs bounced from his seat on the shared living room couch.

Yoongi had been silently watching Hoseok from the other side of the room for some time now. It was very strange to see his friend this worked up and it alarmed him a little. Not enough to make a scene but enough to make a mental note to talk to Namjoon about it later.

Taking a sip from his iced coffee, Yoongi wondered what Hoseok could be worried about. Was it the new routine the group was learning? He noticed how the dancer had stayed late at the dance studio after regular practice was over. Yoongi's lip jutted out. No, it couldn't be that. The routine was difficult but nothing the rest of the boys couldn't handle learning on their own. Was it the trip that they were planning to go on tomorrow? Yoongi knew it was still technically work, as much as he hated that, but it was still supposed to be a lowkey weekend. One that all the boys desperately needed.

Yoongi and Hoseok were now both lost in their own thoughts when the two maknaes entered the room.

Jungkook and Taehyung stopped in their tracks as they eyed their two silent hyungs from the doorway. Comically looking back and forth between the two brothers with wide eyes.

"Hey, Tae-hyungie? What do you think they're doing" Jungkook whispered, leaning towards his older brother.

Taehyung continued looking between the hyungs in the living room. One was staring off into space and the other’s whole body was vibrating from how fast his legs were bouncing.

"I have no idea, Kook. We just came for the snacks, remember. Stick to the mission." Taehyung reminded him, patting Jungkook’s chest and starting forward.

Jungkook held him back, "Hyung– look at them. They look like they could use some brotherly love." The maknae gave Tae a pointed look and gestured for him to save Yoongi from whatever spell he seemed to be under.

Tae huffed, upset he wasn't getting his snacks anytime soon, but willingly trudged over to his older friend. Taking another look at him Taehyung noticed Yoongi chewing on the straw in his iced coffee, something he never does, and his eyes scrunched in deep thought.

Pulling the now empty coffee cup out of his hyung's hands he finally got Yoongi's attention.

"Taehyung? When did you get here?" Yoongi blinked in confusion. He definitely did not register the maknaes entering the room. He was still too focused on Hobi and why he could be so stressed out right now.

"Me and Kook wanted some snacks before we watched the next episode of our drama but when we got here both of you looked so out of it. Is everything okay?" Taehyung's eyebrows creased in concern.

Yoongi’s shoulders slumped. He didn't know if everything was okay. All he knew was that Hobi was anxious for some reason and that worried him.

"Hobi has been sitting there for the past hour either looking straight ahead or looking at his phone. I haven't seen him this stressed in a while."

Taehyung scowled, he hated seeing the dancer with a frown on his face, it was unnatural.

Their gazes landed on the backs of the maknae and their distressed dancer across the room. Hopefully, Jungkook could bring out a little spring in Hoseok's step today.

"Are you sure you don't want to talk about it, Hyung? Whatever’s going on seems to be upsetting you."

"Aish Jungkook, you just won't let up will you? If you really want to know, fine. I don't want to go on the trip tomorrow. I really don't want to and I have been sitting here for who knows how long trying to think of an excuse to tell you all and especially the company."

Hoseok dropped his head with a sigh, rubbing his neck, "I didn't want to make you guys upset or anything I just wanted an actual break, ya know. I want to talk to our managers to see what we can do about it. I hope it's not too late because I don't plan on going anywhere tomorrow even if they have to drag me."

One thing that he didn't admit to the boys was the plan to stay with his best friend this weekend instead of them. How was he going to make an excuse to not spend time with them this weekend? Even if he could convince the company to let them have a break. He wanted to keep you a secret. The special way you made him feel was for himself only. He didn't care that he was being selfish. He knew the moment he introduced you to the group it would no longer be just Hoseok and Y/n. He already shared so much with the boys, why couldn't he be selfish just this once?

The room fell back into silence. The rest of the boys were shocked by Hoseok's admission. They knew he was the happy type that always went with the flow. They never thought he never got stressed but they have never seen him this dejected and drained.

"I am sure we can talk to the company about this Hyung."

Hoseok turned and looked over his shoulder at Taehyung, eyes tired. "I don't know. It's really last minute and we are supposed to leave tomorrow. I don't think the company would let us opt out of it. I was planning on pretending I was sick or something."

Yoongi's eyebrows scrunched more. It was that serious that Hoseok was prepared to fake an illness to get out of the trip.

"We can talk to the others. I am sure they would prefer an actual weekend off compared to what our manager is promising."

"Yeah! With all of us protesting we may actually convince them you know."

The tired dancer looked at each of his brothers in the eye and let out a breath. "Alright. Let's go talk with the others."

The other three all stole a glance at each other as Hoseok got up from the couch and strode out of the room to his bedroom. None of them said anything but each knew they had to call off this trip somehow, some way. They needed to give their most hardworking friend the break he deserved.

"Who's going to call our manager?"

"Not me!"

"Aish you two, just get Namjoon to do it."

[previous]~[next]

51 notes · View notes

unloved-cadillac · 3 years

Note

Firstly to start off with, ummm a white kurtan, yes please, I know this bitch looks good whatever hes wearing, so it dont matter, BUT THE BLACK TANK TOP OOFFFF YOU BETTER STOP, ITS NOT GOOD FOR MY HEALTH. But moving on, I've finished reading the whole thing now, and I'm writing this in notes, so if you're getting thing like 40 minutes later it's because I'm drafting my ask. Basically I'm just gonna skim read it again and just give you my thoughts and any feedback, if that's okay with you, you can ignore this if you want to, I completely understand. I dont mind at all 😊😊

Ok to start off with, the exposition was really good, you've set the tone and introduced the Ackerman family really beautifully. When I read it initially the fact that Levi did not want a family or to get married was quite emphasised upon to me, and I'm really looking forward for the inevitable development and how his view changes as the chapters go on. I also love how you introduced Farlan and Isabel, and lightly touched upon how they met, you didnt go into too much detail and I really like that, it kept me focused on the actual story itself, which is about Levi and not Farlan. And Farlan wanting tto marry her 😢😢. I think it's really really sweet and I cant wait to see more of them. I love it so much.

The transition from setting the scene to their father being poisoned was not something I was expecting and made me go oh shit he dead. Part of me felt like it was moving too quick, but the other part of me loved the shock factor of it since it happened so suddenly. I didnt think of it as too big of an issue though, it was still enjoyable to read.

The whole encounter with the peasant guy made me wonder just how many more people there are like him, that dislike the Ackermans and would try to kill them. And whether y/n would be one of them. Also I got a bit confused as to who was speaking whether it was Farlan or Levi, but I read the sentence again and it was fine, I understood, so maybe I was just being a dumb bitch.

Oooh a quick point Levi sympathising with the criminal was really touching and made me feel warm and gooey. It shows that hes not a dick and does actually care about his people. But it also shows he has clear boundaries and is really firm. He will make a great leader in the future.

YESSS BODYGUARD ERWINNN!!!!! I WAS LITERALLY TELLING MY FRIEND THE OTHER DAY, ERWIN AND LEVI BODYGUARD AU IS THE BESTT. YES SWEETIE UGH ITS FANTASTIC. IVE SAID THIS BEFORE BUT IM SAYING IT AGAIN I LOVE IT.

Carrying on, I love the whole Erwin/Levi/Farlan interaction, of course Erwin knows everything, why wouldnt he, hes a boss ass bitch. Also again, reaffirming that Levi does not want a wife, nOicE. Really builds up his future development.

The difference in Levi's and Farlan's reaction is comical. Ones there waving and smiling and the other ones there like fuck off leave me alone. ALSO WHOEVER SAID THEY'LL GIVE UP THEIR VIRGINTY SAME GURLL SAMEEE, I WOULD TOO YOURE NOT ALONE. AND YES FARLAN IT IS FUNNY, IT MADE ME LAUGH.

Awww the people are so nice, offering things for free, that's how you know you're loved by your people, I rate it, rate Levi sm.

Okay my guy, imma need you stop for a second and relax. Taking your top of??? And your scarf??? Okay big man, I see you, I see you, looking fine af. Ahhh I love imagining this in my brain, so stimulating.

Anyways, Y/N'S HERE NOWWW YES BITCHHH IVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS ONE, TURN IT UPPPP.

Nanaba being my sister is absolutely exquisite *chefs kiss*. I really thought you'd maybe put Petra, and then Petra would like Levi as well, but no its Nanaba and I fucking love her so so much. Also not really relevant, but I dont have any older sisters, but I do have older cousin sisters and I call my favourite one didi mooni (I think that's how you spell it, or muni idk) and yeah it just reminded me of her. I haven't seen her in so so long because of the pandemic and I miss her :(

Ah. So. Y/N does hate the royals. I wanna know why?? Does she think they're overrated?? A bad experience maybe?? Everyone else seems to love them. I'll just have to wait and see I guess.

ALSO PLEASE TELL ME THE LITTLE KID WAS MIKASA!!! IM HOPING SO SO MUCH ITS MIKASA, IT PROBABLY ISNT BECAUSE SHES AN ACKERMAN HERSELF BUT I CAN STILL HOPE!!! SHES SO CUTEEE AND ADORABLE AWWWW WEVIIII 🥺🥺🥺

THEY SELL TEAAA AHHH ITS A LOVE STORY BOUND TO HAPPEN. AND HE HASNT TRIED THEM YETT!!!! YES OMGGG TEA DATES, THEY CAN BOTH SIT DOW AND SHE CAN INTRODUCE HIM TO NEW SHITT AHHHH MY HEARTTTT 🥰🥰🥰IM GETTING WAYYYY AHEAD OF MYSELF.I need to calm down.

The whole meeting with Levi and Y/N was so adorable. It felt really short and I want more, but its okayyy, hopefully there are more chapters. Them locking eyes, him following her to get the leaves, HIM HELPING HER PICK UP THE BLOODY LEAVES, THE HAIR PART REMINDS ME OF IN BOLLYWOOD MOVIES WHEN THE PROTAGS HAIR GETS STUCK IN THE GUYS WATCH OR THEIR DUPATTA OR SOMETHING. OMGG Y/N IS ONE LUCKY BITCH.

Also since you havent specified the race of y/n, just wanted to ask is she Indian?? Or it it unspecified?? You wrote that she blushed bright red and many dark skinned readers wont be able relate. So yeah I'm not too sure whether that was intentional or not, I'm sorry if I'm mistaken though. I mean no harm at all.

Farlan's relationship with Levi is just beautiful, like I know I'm using the word beautiful a lot, but their broship is immaculate. Something else that I love.

Both Levi and Y/N not wanting to get married is hilarious. I really like how you've characterised her, shes really fierce, independent and seems really kind and caring as well. I really like this Y/N, very family oriented.

If I was her dad I would've taken the money. 🤷🏾‍♀️🤷🏾‍♀️ Not complaining about it because my dad would've done the exact same thing, but if I was him I wouldve taken it. Sis is broke, sis needs all the money she can get.

Both parties questioning Levi and Y/N is hilarious, fucking Erwin, I love him so much I stg. I'd sacrifice my life for him. Hes best boy 😇😇

I feel like this is really really long already so I'll quickly sum everything up, if you got this far you deserve a clap on the back and a medal, because I've basically just waffled. I really really enjoyed this chapter, it was very good in terms of introductions and getting to know the characters, I loved the initial meeting between levi and y/n and it did make my heart flutter quite a bit so that's that. I dont have any complaints really, just small minor things I've mentioned before and that's it. I really look forward to the coming chapters!!! Thank you so so much for writing it. Please make sure you're taking regular breaks and keeping hydrated and healthy. Thanks sweetie xxx 🥰🥰🥰

I’ve read this WHOLE thing..twice. I can’t stop smiling omf you’re so sweet! But, yeah minor shit I didn’t mention and I left it up to reader. Like the skin tone, sheesh. I don’t want any problems with that, I just said red blush to signify embarrassment. Reader is reader no matter what.

Aren’t we all broke af? But I liked the idea of the father being humble about it. Lol. Idk.

I don’t want to get into too much detail because that will obviously ruin the story but I love your ideas. Tea dates?! How cute! Erwin is the best, of course. He knows ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) and he’s the kind of person who would follow his princes no matter what. Till the end, you know?

As I said, highly inspired by Bollywood movies lol.

You took your time and wrote all of this and I’m so fucking happy that you did. I can’t wait for all of you to see the upcoming chapters. I hope that you’re staying happy and hydrated as well. Also, happy Shivratri! (If you celebrate for it) and to everyone else celebrating.

-Caddy.

#cadillac answers

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choccos-aaart · 3 years

Text

Antag interview!

>>BASE<<

Feat. the five major antagonists of the story of April and friends: Mr Skatra, Dr Sarlife Aufel, Wyra, Eyn, and Farqua

*NOTE: Definitely got spoilers for the story I’m writing, if you’re interested :P*

**NOTE: I better’ve not written anything wrong here...**

Greetings, and welcome to the "Villians Interview Meme". Whether you like it or not, you've been brought here to answer some questions about yourself. This is a recording, pausing and starting controlled by your author, so you cannot attack me. If you begin to fight with one another, you WILL be sedated/strait-jacketed. Alright now, let's start.

Would you show the viewers a shred of kindness by allowing us to know your name(s)?

Skatra: Oh…? I’m first? Alright, then… Hello, my name is Abarran. ...Known by most as Mr Skatra.

Doc: Evening! I’m Sarlife. Others call me Doc. And, I am not sharing my surname. Who’s next?

Wyra: It’s me. Hi, hello, my name’s Wyra. I’m Sarlife’s action partner. I keep a look out for her, too.

Eyn: I’m Eyn, and I’m Abarran’s kid.

Farqua: Suppose they left the best for last, huh! Hi! The name’s Farqua Pells!

Are you male or female?

Skatra: I’m male.

Doc: I don’t conform. Next,

Wyra: I am female!

Eyn: Usually people get me all wrong, but I’m a girl. Don’t blame ‘em though…

Farqua: And I’m a man, haha!

How old are you in human years?

Skatra: Forty-nine. Almost fifty... *sigh*

Doc: I’ve existed for 77 years, but my AI depicts me as, I dunno, somewhere in my 30s? 40s? Either way, I’m a working adult.

Farqua: So ya let us know your age but y’ain’t givin’ off your last name? For real?

Doc: It’s embarrassing. Wyra, it’s your turn.

Wyra: My AI depicts me as about the same as Doc! But I could be younger. I was built in year X701 which was about 65 years ago.

Eyn: I’m 16. Well, at least I’m programmed to be 16. I was actually built six years ago. What about you, Farqua? Gonna bet you’re like programmed to be 10, haha.

Farqua: Shut up. Uhh, I’m in my 30s... In my programmin’, of course. Almost reachin’ my 50 years milestone in real time, though!

What exactly are you?

Skatra: Excuse me… what? If you’re asking whether I’m human or not, I’m human.

Doc; Yeah, a pathetic one.

Skatra: Would you shut up?! …By the way, the rest of them are androids.

Doc: You really had to answer for us, didn’t you?

Skatra: It saves time.

Do you have any powers?

Skatra: No… Doctor?

Doc: Well, a lot of medical tools can be transformed out of my arm. And I’ve built myself a little machine that can automatically mix different medicines and whatnot.

Wyra: Well, I’ve learned to use my power source abilities for things that aren’t just powering things. Something I can do is produce power from both my star-panels and my natural gas source, which I think is cool.

Eyn: Alright. Uh… My arm’s literally a toolbox. No, literally, it can like, shoot a bunch of tools out of it. Well, those tools really are just these cool things that unfold from these tiny boxes. Weird science stuff I don’t wanna explain. Also, my arm used to be for weapons n’ stuff. Oh yeah, I forgot to mention I was originally built to commit some revenge robbery or something, so I’m packed with a whole bunch of stealth n’ robbery stuff like, y’know. Too lazy to list it all down, though…

Farqua: Damnit Eyn, now you’re makin’ me feel pathetic!

Eyn: Well, boo-hoo.

Farqua: So, uhh… ‘s just my arm can transform into just a whole buncha garden n’ landscapin’ tools. That’s it, really.

Skatra: If it makes you happy, that’s every slasher film writer’s dream.

Farqua: Well, ain’t that nice!

Who is your archrival, and what do you hate about them? Do they have powers?

Skatra: It’s you, Doctor, Wyra, and all your affiliates!

Wyra: Yeah, whatever.

Doc: Ah yes, I greatly apologise for ruining your life to KEEP THE PEOPLE I CARE ABOUT SAFE!

Farqua: Well Doc, y’ain’t gonna deny that almost everyone hates your way of doin’ it, are ya? And April fights for ‘em, too.

Doc: YOU DON’T NEED TO BE INVOLVED, FARQUA!

Farqua: Shiieeeet… Calm ya farm. ...Wait, that doesn’t work in my accent.

Skatra: And also, that blasted April! I hate that child! She has and is still playing a big part of tearing my life to pieces, as if it wasn’t unbearable enough!

Farqua: Goddamn! Now everyone’s bein’ real overdramatic!

Eyn: So, uh, April’s pretty much my rival, too. And we always keep running into each other. It’s almost like some stupid rival logic you see in comics and TV and stuff.

Farqua: Ha! Imagine havin’ that happen to ya? Haha!

Eyn: … And who’s your rival, Farqua? Aren’t you just the henchman-turned-hostage?

Farqua: Shut up.

Eyn: Thought so.

Farqua: But as hostage I kept bickerin’ with Matro. Does that count?

Eyn: That’s fair. …Wait. I forgot to mention, April doesn’t really have powers. When we thought we were gonna be friends when we met the first time, I sorta turned her old stick into a weapon. Yeah. Things really backfired on me.

Do you rule over any sort of land, country, county?

Skatra: I could never rule something like that…

Doc: Oh no; I’ve got no knowledge or interest in being a ruler. I’m just a doctor.

Wyra: I can’t either, since I once accidentally caused a power outage in my old city!

Doc: And though the answer’s pretty obvious already, what about you, Eyn? Do you rule a population of some sort?

Eyn: Nah. It doesn’t even seem cool.

Farqua: Me neither. Huh! Weird that none of us are that typa antagonist?

Skatra: Now that you say it… I agree.

Why are you considered "the bad guy"?

Skatra: Well… I’ll admit, my goal is to take probably the most important thing that the building’s got, and yes, many robots were taken advantage of in the process.

Doc: And people were hurt. And you’ve committed murder before – oho, blood’s on your hands.

Skatra: DOCTOR! I thought our therapy session was meant to be confidential!

Doc: Oops, my bad.

Skatra: And it looks like we’ve got a reason why Doctor’s a part of this interview. Any more you want to say about yourself?

Doc: Ah… Uh… I forced a lot of innocents into getting involved and even fight in this mess of a situation. And yes, without their consent. Or their families’ consent. And by doing that, their lives were all at stake. Yeah, I regret it. Fly me to skuelk.

Wyra: I’m Doc’s action partner and out of the two of us, I think I’ve actively hurt April the most. And April’s still a little kid! That’s definitely given me a bad look!

Eyn: Eh, I just help Dad with stuff. And it really looks like I don’t care much about hurting people. That’s it, really. And I guess I also run into April the most, and a lot of the story’s from her perspective, so I guess I’m really put under a bad light.

Farqua: Same story! I’m one of Skatra’s guys! Except I’M THE ONLY ONE THAT GOT CAPTURED BY APRIL N’ FRIENDS AND IT’S SO FUCKIN’ EMBARRASSIN’.

Do you consider yourself purely evil?

Skatra: No! Who would?!

Wyra: Not me! I’ve just been called sadistic!

Doc: Let’s be completely real. Nobody really considers themselves evil. All of us just want to do what we feel like is right.

Eyn: Yeah, I don’t think I’m doing anything evil. I guess it’s sometimes I’m not knowing the difference between not giving a shit what everyone thinks about me versus doing what everyone agrees is morally wrong.

Farqua: Whoa! Ya got a lot of wisdom for a kid!

Skatra: And where do you think she got that from, hm?

Farqua: Stop lyin’ to yourself, she ain’t your biological daughter.

Skatra: Shut up.

What do you think of the others in the quiz room?

Skatra: Well first off, Eyn’s my daughter, the only family member I’m happy talking to, and I love her a lot. Doctor’s a bit… I don’t know. From my experience, they’ve been a very caring and genuine person at first. Wyra’s a bit of an oddball. I still think she’s a bit scary to approach. Those two are definitely people you wouldn’t want as an enemy, but then again, here I am. And that leaves Farqua, who’s probably just as competent as he is annoying. What about you, Doctor?

Farqua: WHA-

Doc: Ehrm, thanks for acknowledging that about me. Anyways, as much as I hate what you’re doing, Abarran, and mind me, I’m being as honest as I can, you’re just someone who needs help. It honestly hurts to watch you and what you’re doing. Wyra is a close friend of mine! We’re completely different, but it’s as if she completely understands me. And Farqua, you’re… You’re alright, I guess. Also, I’ve been hoping for you to just stop trying to be my “rival” ever since you read that aphorism, “an apple a day keeps the doctor away.” And Eyn, I can tell you’re hiding behind a façade; just reveal that you dress and act the way you do because you’re a fan of the Axel Duiti series. To me, you’re as easy to read as a children’s book.

Eyn: Hey! I mean… Never mind. Uh… My dad’s like the only guy that’s got my back. He’s cool. Dr Sarlife’s like, I dunno, a bit scary to talk to. Also, what’s up with the bunny ears?

Doc: That’s none of your… Alright, to tell you the truth, I worked at a children’s hospital. Let’s not get off topic, now. What are your thoughts on Wyra and Farqua?

Eyn: Oh. Uh… Wyra’s so hyper, it’s exhausting. But, I think we can get along? I dunno… I hope we do. And Farqua’s pretty cool. We get along pretty well. But cut off the “howdy” unless you’re gonna say that to everyone. That’s all.

Wyra: From what I know so far, I know I get along with Sarlife the best! Skatra’s, I dunno. All I know about him is through what Sarlife told me, and I think he’s a bit of a prick that could do with some fixing up. Maybe. I think Eyn’s cool! I think I’ve seen the Axel Duiti series on telly before, and I think that’s a good way to start talking! And now, Farqua. Um… Definitely a bit weird. But I find that endearing!

Farqua: That’s… That’s it? ‘Right, guess it’s my turn, then! First off, Doc, Wyra n’ Skatra, you’re all assholes for doin’ all the stuff you’re doin’ and for all the stuff ya said ‘bout me. And Eyn, you can still look like a badass and be open ‘bout all your apparently “less cool” self. Look at me? I look all cute n’ cuddly n’ sweet, but I’m pretty open ‘bout my reckless n’ aggressive nature n’ stuff, ya get?

Eyn: Wow… Didn’t expect a pep-talk but okay, I’ll take that.

Farqua: No prob, kiddo!

On a rate of one to ten, how powerful do you think the villain next to you is?

Skatra: Oh God, I hate rating like this. Uh… Doctor’s probably a 7.

Doc: …That’s fair; I’ll take it. I was going to say 7 for you. Wyra’s close to an 8.

Wyra: No offence Sarlife, but I reckon you’re a 6, for me.

Doc: None taken.

Wyra: Eyn’s a 9 for me. I’ve seen her with April and it’s not pretty.

Eyn: Wyra’s probably a, I dunno, 7…? Farqua’s 1.

Farqua: WHAT?!

Eyn: But with your limbs, you’re, I dunno, 8. You’re pretty strong and got a bunch of tools and stuff.

Farqua: Well, Eyn, I’m givin’ you an 8! Remember, this’s all ‘bout perspective.

Now, how powerful do you consider yourself to be?

Skatra: 4… 5…? I can’t get over it.

Doc: 6 or a 7. I don’t think I can give myself anything else after that last question.

Wyra: Tough. Probably 7? Or 8.

Eyn: 8.

Farqua: God, some of y’all don’t think that high of yourselves, huh! I’m givin’ myself a 9!

Do you have an evil laugh?

Skatra: No, that’s stupid.

Doc: Can we all agree on this and move on?

Eyn: Yeah.

Wyra: Done and done!

Farqua: You guys are borin’ as hell y’know. I sorta do have one actually! But I guess tha’s ‘cause Matro keeps tellin’ me I’m just mean-spirited. And sadistic too, but it ain’t like that!

Do ya fear death?

Skatra: Er… I’ll pass on this one…

Doc: Alright. No, I don’t, honestly.

Wyra: I agree! I don’t really care. I’ve kind of experienced it, before.

Eyn: Well, I do. I’ve still got things I wanna get outta the way and I don’t wanna miss ‘em.

Farqua: Do I fear death? Well, I guess I do! I’ve seen it countless times ‘cause I’ve been to every burial held at the buildin’ and I see everybody all heartbroken n’ stuff. Makes me worry, y’know, ‘bout all the people who care ‘bout me n’ all.

Docc: Well, to be fair, we do all have the choice to live for as long as we want, as long as we’re not seriously damaged to the point beyond repair. Well, except for Abarran, here. He’s human and we’re all bound to outlive him.

Skatra: That’s not very nice.

What's your goal, exactly? Or are you just evil for the heck of it?

Skatra: It’s quite basic, really. So, to put it simply, nearly fifty years of hard work’s gone down the drain. And to make up for all of it, I felt the need to do something big. So, my goal is to take the proclo machine and reveal it to the world as something of mine. Yes, I know I’ll be living a lie, but I just want to make an impact of some sort that’ll change the world, whether it be for the better or for the worse, and once the whole world hates me, I’ll just end it all there.

Doc: Alright… Well, I just want to keep this building, you know, ALIVE. I care about everyone and everything that has to do with this building, and I’ll do anything if it means this building lives on. And that’s it! I mean it literally!

Wyra: Everything I know about this situation is through Sarlife, really. She told me everything, and when I say “anything,” I mean it. I care about this building, a lot, too! ...Eyn? What about you? Let me guess: you just want to make your dad proud of you, right?

Eyn: That’s one of them. But also, there was this one guy that commissioned me, he gave me a mission, and I failed it. Big time. Then I got left on the shelf for years, he commissioned another robot n’ stuff, and once that was done, I was sold somewhere to do some more stuff that I didn’t do so well at either, and then I was sold again. I didn’t really feel like I had anything good to do in this world, so that sucked. And then Dad picked me up from the markets and now I’m making sure I don’t fail at anything, anymore.

Farqua: … This is awkward… I ain’t got much of a motive… I just, I dunno, work for the guy- I mean Skatra…

Doc: THAT’S BECAUSE HE MANAGED TO TAKE CONTROL OF YOUR GOAL SYSTEM, YOU ABSOLUTE BUFFOON!!

Farqua: Goddamn! Ya gotta calm down! And I thought I was aggressive!

Do you have henchmen/a henchman?

Skatra: A lot of robots, yes, I do.

Doc: ROBOTS WHO WERE MY FRIENDS THAT YOU TOOK ADVANTAGE OF, THAT’S WHO!

Wyra: They were my friends, too, you know!

Skatra: You know, you’ll both eventually end up working for me, sooner or later.

Doc: I’ll make sure that doesn’t happen.

Wyra: We’ve gathered a lot of the non-robotic inhabitants of the building, anyway, to help get rid of you! And Eyn, too!

Skatra: Ooh, I’m soo scared.

Eyn: … Okay so, I work with my dad, so all those robots- I mean Dr Sarlife and Wyra’s friends are sorta my henchmen, too. Wow, that makes me sound really villainous, haha…

Farqua: So! It’s my turn, now, ain’t it? WELL, JOKES ON Y’ALL, I AM A HENCHMAN!

What do you drive?

Skatra: My little car, with a trailer attached. How do you think I got to the building?

Doc: I drive a scooter. It’s very easy to get around which is great!

Wyra: I’m not very good at driving. But, I have had a go on the hover bikes which are fun!

Eyn: I sorta know how to drive Dad’s car, but I know the anatomy n’ whatnot better than I can drive.

Farqua: Goddamnit, EYN can drive, too?! Well…! Matro said he’d teach me to drive the train later on.

Doc: What?

Wyra: You and Matro are all buddy-buddy, now?

Farqua: Sorta!

Doc: Well…. That’s surprising…

Wyra: Since when?

Farqua: Huh. You’re getting’ a little jealous now I’m spedin’ a lot of my time with your ol’ pal, ain’t ya?

What do you do when you aren't trying to do whatever you're trying to achieve?

Skatra: What do I do… Well, aside from moping in my apartment all day, I like to build machines and do some arthropod photography.

Doc: For me, you’d find me obviously doing my work. During my breaks, I take walks all around the building, and occasionally, I’d draw over my papers. I’m not a very skilled artist, though…

Wyra: I like to watch some telly! And just travel around the building while I’m not doing my work, of course!

Eyn: So, as Dr Sarlife said, you probably already know I’m a huge fan of the Axel Duiti series, so I re-watch the show, re-read the comics, and all that stuff. I also like playing bass guitar and helping Dad with building and stuff. That’s it, really.

Farqua: First off, I’m a gardener and a landscaper, so catch me up on the rooftop gardens doin’ my thing. When I ain’t doin’ all that, you’ll find me in the library reading some books about, I dunno, random stuff.

Were you ever a double-crosser (pretended to be on the opposite team, then stabbed them in the back)?

Skatra: Well, I—

Doc: THAT’S EXACTLY WHAT YOU DID TO ME!

Skatra: Doctor, there is no need to yell! Good God!

Doc: You can’t deny that it’s true, though. For me, I would never do that.

Wyra: Never done it! If anything, I like being honest.

Eyn: Well, I’ve tried doing that. It didn’t go very well… Farqua, your turn.

Farqua: Oh yeah. Mine’s damn interestin’, alright. ‘Cause if April and friends DIDN’T get to me first, I woulda done exactly that!

Skatra: I’m pretty sure I heard them say they thought you were up to something beforehand, so…

Farqua: Wh… How do you even hear this stuff?

Skatra: Your point of view was connected to my computers, why?

Farqua: …OKAY. I FORGOT. SORRY.

On a scale of 1 to 10, how often do you lie? *gives them truth serum*

Skatra: Oh God… 8

Doc: 3. Lying isn’t that big a thing for both robots and doctors, and then there’s me.

Wyra: 4. Like I said, I like to be truthful. Just saying.

Eyn: 5. I’m pretty honest.

Farqua: 6-ish.

Skatra: … You’re joking! I lie the most out of all of us?

Farqua: Well, y’gotta face it. You’re the only human here.

What color is your: hair?

Skatra: Dark green. ...For some reason.

Doc: It’s some sort of brown.

Wyra: A bit reddish-brown. Think of Sarlife’s favourite pants.

Doc: ...

Eyn: I wish I had hair…

Farqua: Ain’t that also why you wear a hat?

Eyn: I guess…

Farqua: Anyways, I ain’t got no hair too, ‘cause my design’s just like that, y’know! Gotta admit, I still pull off a cute look, huh!

Eyes?

Skatra: Dark, dark brown.

Doc: My irises are generally jet black and my sclerae are white. When I’m under the influence of an energy chip, my sclerae turn a blueish colour.

Farqua: “SCELRAE, SCELRAE,” look, ya don’t gotta go all textbook talk mode on us.

Doc: ...You could’ve at least been a little bit nicer...

Eyn: Uh… My eyes are black. Dad says I’m not allowed to have effect chips yet, so my whites are always white.

Farqua: For most of the story, I’m not on anything so you’d see my eyes are just like Eyn’s. But a lot of the time, when I’m not working, you’d catch the white bits of my eyes turned bright yellow! Forgot which chip it was but I set up a whole stash months ago!

Wyra: Um… I’ve got no irises!

Skin?

Skatra: Some sort of darkish beige.

Doc: I don’t really have skin, but I’m painted grey.

Wyra: Also painted grey.

Eyn: My paints are a bit weird. A lot of my body’s green, some areas are painted cream, my forearms and below the knees are painted brown, and my face is grey. Sorry if it’s a lot.

Farqua: I’m painted mostly red with some super light yellow in some places. I’ve got some small bits that’re this dark purply brown, too. And my upper arms, whatcha call it, are—

Doc: Your brac-

Farqua: WOULD YA— Doc, don’t do that. …Anyways, my whatchamacallits ain’t really painted at all.

Whats your uniform/favorite outfit?

Skatra: Since it’s winter, I’ve been wearing my favourite turtleneck at lot, recently. I like to pair it with my long coat.

Doc: My only outfit is my doctors’ uniform. It’d be kind of strange to see me wear anything else.

Wyra: I’ve got my work uniform. That’s it, really.

Eyn: Right now, I’m wearing an outfit based off Axel Duiti. He’s an outlaw in the old Earthian west.

Farqua: I AIN’T WEARIN’ NO CLOTHES, HAHA! And that’s ‘cause my designers made sure I was too good for ‘em.

Have you ever gone mad?

Skatra: Mad…? As in angry or…

Doc: I think they mean gone totally mental. As in you’ve lost your mind.

Skatra: Oh. Yes, I did. When, I’m not going to mention any names here, an ex-friend of mine put my years-worth of effort down the drain back in… X761, I think? What about you, Doctor?

Doc: Ah, I remember that one time… That one time Eyn nearly got me to fall under your control... And then, after that, you took all the little nurses and doctors that worked with me as prisoners... Hm, and it was a threat, too! All so I wouldn’t publicise your dastardly plan!

Skatra: Good God, you didn’t need to go into that much detail!

Doc: Anywho, what about you, Wyra? Anything similar?

Wyra: I don’t recall, really. Eyn?

Eyn: Nope.

Doc: Really? Even after everything that’s happened to you?

Eyn: Nope. And I hope it doesn’t happen to me. That’d be embarrassing.

Farqua: I ain’t had that happen to me, either! Guess that’s just a side effect of being old, huh!

Wyra: Haha!

Skatra: Excuse me?!

Doc: Farqua, you, Wyra and I were ALL programmed to behave the same age– WHAT MAKES YOU THINK YOU CAN SAY THAT TO ME?!

Farqua: Well, just like I said to Matro, “Stress. It ages ya.”

Doc: It doesn’t. …Alright, it does! But that doesn’t mean you can say what you just said!

Wyra: Wait... I’m stressed...?

If so, did you enjoy it?

Skatra: No! Of course, not!

Doc: If anyone had half a brain, even they’d know not to enjoy something like that!

Skatra: You don’t even have an organic brain and you, too, know not to enjoy something like that.

Doc: … Your daughter is right here.

Skatra: OH MY GOD, I’m so sorry!

Eyn: It’s okay, Dad.

Have any family?

Skatra: I do, back at the city. I haven’t spoken with them in almost thirty years. Eyn is the only closest family I’ve got.

Eyn: Yeah, I’ve just got him, too.

Doc: Uh, me? I can’t say. I guess if you count my model’s predecessors and successors. It makes sense.

Farqua: Same story as Doc, I guess.

Wyra: Same’s too!

Have you ever been in love? If you have, do they love you back?

Skatra: A few times I thought I did, actually. Once in high school, twice in university, and after, I realised love wasn’t anything of my interest. I’m not complaining, though.

Wyra: Definitely! I been in love before!

Skatra: Robots can… Do that...?

Wyra: Um, yeah?

Doc: I haven’t, really. Also, this might be related, but I’ve done so a few times ever since I created the lust chip, and experimented with myself.

Eyn: Lust chip…? The heck?

Farqua: Woo-hoo, Doc, who were they?

Doc: In my first trial, it was my human anatomy model, and eventually my human skeleton model.

Farqua: … What – ya didn’t go head-over-heels with anyone alive?

Doc: Of course not! Why would I experiment with those chips around people?!

Farqua: Oh. Well, I ain’t fallen in love yet. Maybe ‘cause I’ve yet to get the hots for anyone ‘round here. Even with the lust chip! Surprisin, huh! …Y’know, since I gotta admit, I do like to look a lil cuter, don’t I?

Eyn: Uh… Well, there’s this uvra girl...

Farqua: …

Doc: …

Wyra: ...

Skatra: Eyn, you’ve fallen in love?!

Can you cook?

Skatra: Well, yes! I have to eat to survive. It’s a human thing.

Doc: I’ve tried teaching myself to. It’s not that difficult, actually.

Wyra: I can, a bit! I’m not very skilled though, and people have just told me to just stick to working the gas, rather than actually working with the gas.

Eyn: Dad’s been teaching me some. He says I’m a natural, haha.

Farqua: Well, I sorta do. I ain’t that great at it, though. Shucks, I gotta up my cookin’ game!

Do you despise the Earth?

Skatra: Not really. Earth is history after all, so why should I care so much?

Farqua: Some people hate stuff from the past, y’know,

Skatra: That’s fair.

Doc: Well, despite everything, I’m pretty indifferent.

Wyra: Earth’s pretty cool if you ask me. Shame I can’t actually see it for myself, though.

Eyn: I don’t know much about Earth. But Axel lives in that place, so that’s cool.

Farqua: I’m all about Earth! There ain’t nothin else I’ve been readin’ about lately!

What's your pet peeve?

Skatra: When anyone leaves anything personal unlocked. Imagine seeing a bag or a house’s door left open. How do people even do that? I remember back in high school nobody would lock their lockers unless they actually had to. It bothered me so much to the point where I locked one of my classmates’. That was also the time I made my first enemy. Well, not really; the person barely knew me! But they swore they’d kill me.

Doc: The fact that engineers aren’t being as creative with android antennae anymore! Are they not accepting creatives into the industry anymore or something? ...No offence, Farqua.

Farqua: Yeah, fine. Whatever.

Wyra: I think my pet peeve is when people are super nitpicky and pick out really small and meaningless details, as if they’re gonna do something big. Like, what’s the point?

Eyn: When people talk over TV shows and movies and stuff. Why would you even do that?

Farqua: Hm… I think I hate when people run over plants. Y’know, like the ones that ain’t grass n’ all that. They’re alive, too, y’know! And they especially don’t get stepped on like that!

What kind of music to you like?

Skatra: I’ve enjoyed all forms of jazz. I think big band’s my favourite.

Doc: This might be surprising, but I actually prefer genres like breakbeat. Or, if I want to relax, I’ll listen to space ambiance.

Wyra: Happy hardcore, hardstyle, handsup - anything that’s energising, really!

Eyn: Rock n’ roll and blues are my favourites. Maybe some ska-punk, too. I feel like a total badass when listening to them.

Farqua: I love some good punk rock, or maybe even add somethin’ like some folkier flavour to songs like those!

What's your favorite food?

Skatra: Tiramisu. I don’t have it often, but I guess that’s why it’s my favourite.

Doc: ...I’m a robot. But I’ve always wanted to try dark chocolate.

Wyra: Me too! I don’t know what they taste like, but maybe cheese and nachos will do it for me!

Eyn: Dad’s always told me about different foods, but I think he’s described ramen noodles the best.

Farqua: I been told that honey-lemon chicken tastes great! I really wanna taste that!

Are you bored, want to kill me, satisfied with this quiz, etc.?

Skatra: I’ve been enjoying it a bit, actually.

Doc: Me too. I was afraid I’d get bored. ...Sorry.

Wyra: I enjoyed it! It was a lot of questions to get through though, but I’m still here!

Eyn: Eh, it was cool, I guess…

Farqua: I ain’t gonna kill ya, I promise! ...I mean, it was good!

Who's your favorite villain other than yourself?

Skatra: I don’t know. Why would I have a favourite villain? Or if you’re talking about the people in this group, I guess, it’s Eyn. She’s my daughter, after all.

Doc: Wyra’s one of my closest friends. Of course, I’d pick her.

Wyra: Right back at you, Sarlife!

Eyn: I guess, I’ve just got my dad. Or, if you meant it that way, I really like one named Taft Grater. He’s one of the villains of the Axel Duiti series. He’s really well written.

Farqua: Huh! This is a tough one! I dunno, maybe Wyra.

Do you think you're gonna die in your story?

Skatra: I don’t know. Like everyone else, I hope not, but I’ll just take what’s thrown at me.

Doc: Let’s hope I don’t!

Wyra: I don’t think I’ll die!

Eyn: I hope not, too.

Farqua: WELL, I BETTER NOT!!!

Well, I have to go, and I'm sure you have a lot of evil scheming to do. Peace out! (Or should I say "destruction out!" in your cases?) For your creators, go tag someone! Please, it won't take long!

Me lol: (Sorry! :’D)

Anything to add now that I'm done rambling?

Me lol: Not really, actually! but it was fun :D

Look! Please do it if you have villains, and credit me!

Please spread the word!

(I don't have much time, I have a timed session, as I'm using some random wifi server, so I'll add more later!)

#Chocco's OCs #Mr Skatra #Dr Aufel #Wyra Kappel #Eyn Duiti #Farqua Pells #Project: Proclo #Chocco does memes #Chocco's writing #Chocco's scripts #Chocco's info dumps #Dr Sarlife Aufel #Doc / Sarlife #Eyn Duiti Skatra

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twilighteve-writes · 4 years

Text

Feather One Divided -- Chapter 6: The Effort

Fic Summary:

Feather one divided, fate’s ties frayed, Fractured and wedged, scattered and gone.

After sharing an unsettling dream of Felldrake, the Three Caballeros decided to join back together with Xandra to form a stronghold in case the sorcerer returned. But Felldrake’s plans proved to be bigger than they expected, and when he struck so close to home, it was all Donald could do to keep his family – and himself – together.

(Also available in AO3)

(Chapter 1)

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One lost to another’s hunger.

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Webby glanced at Lena, absently noting how Violet did the same, as they came to a stop at Funso’s. It loomed over them.

“Are you going to tell us why you brought us here?” Violet asked. “Is it so you can see if Felldrake is hiding here?”

“I’m not looking for Felldrake right now,” Lena answered lightly. “And I doubt he’s anywhere near here. Come on.” She led them inside without any more words, and Webby and Violet exchanged glances before following.

Webby watched as Lena looked around, eyes searching, as she silently noted where the doors were, in case things went south. The cool metal of the throwing knife she managed to hide in her sleeve pressed against her feathers and she took a deep breath, feeling the weight of it calming her.

Violet tugged on Webby’s hand when Lena moved again, and they both followed. A part of Webby grew alarmed when she finally realized what – who – Lena had been looking for.

“Hello, Magica,” Lena greeted the magician-turned-Funso’s worker, and Magica, who had been wiping a table, looked up in surprise.

“Well, isn’t it Lena,” Magica responded calmly. She didn’t look like she minded the intervention much, and to Webby’s surprise, she didn’t look all that annoyed that they knew what she was working as. Magica calmly took seat at the table and stared at them. “What a surprise. Are you here only to greet your dear old aunt?”

“No, there’s something we want,” Lena said.

“I figured.” Magica leaned forward and supported her chin on a hand, her elbow digging into the table as she carelessly threw her rag to the seat nearest to hers. “What do you want, then? Make it quick, I’m on my shift.”

“There’s something I want to know,” Lena began, “and maybe a favor or two I want to ask. It’s a magical matter involving one of the triplets.”

Magica raised a brow. “Well, it’s going to cost you something.” She straightened up. “How about this? You return to me – “

“Not a chance,” Webby cut in before Magica could finish the sentence. Magica threw her a scowl, but Webby kept her stance, glaring menacingly.

“I know you want your magic back,” Lena said instead, and it broke the staring contest immediately. “I’m willing to work together with you to get my magic back to you if you want. But I want to stay. I’m Lena, now, and I’m not just your shadow anymore.”

Magica stared, eyes sharp. Violet shifted by Lena’s side, and Webby noticed how she moved to tug at Lena’s hand, tapping on her hand. Webby watched as Violet’s Morse code spelled, weapon for me, just in case, and had to catch herself from letting her hidden blade drop to her palm. Not yet, she thought, and preferably never. She wouldn’t want to be banned from Funso’s.

Was that a thing? Can people be banned from Funso’s? Can kids?

“Shame,” Magica said. “You were exemplary as a shadow.”

Webby let the blade fall and caught it expertly, holding her hand up to let Magica see the glint of the metal. Lena caught her hand before she did anything more.

“Webby,” Lena hissed. “Behave.”

“She’s not just your shadow,” Webby snarled at Magica.

To her frustration, Magica just propped her chin on her hand. “Trying to get my magic back without having you as my shadow is a lot of work,” she said. “I would say it’s not worth the effort.”

“It’s worth it if it keeps Lena here,” Violet interjected. She seemed miffed Lena didn’t give her the weapon she requested, but she didn’t argue on that. “I’m not letting you take her.”

Magica swept her gaze and stared at each of them, then huffed. “I want to know what you’re asking first.”

Lena took a deep breath. “Our friend went missing. He was kidnapped. I want you to help us get him.”

“Who?”

“Louie,” Webby said.

“I have no idea who that is.”

“He’s one of the triplets,” Violet explained. “The one who wears green.”

“Ah, the fledgling gold-touched child,” Magica mused, beak curling into a lazy smile. “Figures. He’s the most precious of all three.”

“We don’t know why he was taken, but we want him back,” Violet said again. “We also want information on the one who took him. It was a sorcerer by the name of Felldrake.”

Webby had been watching Magica closely, and if she had blinked at that moment, she would have missed the way Magica’s eyes widened a fraction, recognition morphing her almost nonchalant attitude into pure horror, and how she tamped down on it hard, so hard, and schooled her face into stern scowl instead. “Felldrake, you say?” she asked instead.

“Yes,” Violet said. “He showed up with a creature – “

“Oh, spare me the details. I know exactly who Felldrake and his ratty little pet is,” Magica scoffed. “He’s bad news, Lena. You don’t want anything to do with him. I don’t want anything to do with him.”

“He took Louie,” Webby pressed. “We need to get him back.”

Magica stared at her for a moment. “If he’s lucky, he’s already dead,” she said.

The usual buzzing crowd in Funso’s play area and arcade was drowned by the ringing in Webby’s ears as she tensed up in – rage, horror, both? She wasn’t sure anymore. By her side, Lena stilled.

Violet was the only one who managed to keep her wits enough to speak. “Why do you say that? What makes Felldrake bad news, in your book?”

Magica scoffed again. “You said yourself that your friend was taken – “

“Magica, stop dancing around the question,” Lena said with a sigh. “Did Felldrake do something?”

Magica grew quiet at that. She glanced at somewhere behind Webby, Violet, and Lena, and stood up. “I don’t have to answer you. I have a job to do.”

Webby’s eyes grew wide and she gripped her knife hard enough to make her fingers numb. “No. You don’t get to do that.”

Magica frowned. “Listen, girl – “

“No.” Webby straightened up. “You don’t get to ask Lena to turn back into a shadow and then just decide not to help us. You don’t get to give Lena nightmares to make her decide to return to you and just turn your back. You don’t get to imprison Scrooge in his dime, harm my family, threaten to kill my friends and get away with it, and just decide you don’t want anything to do with us. You’re telling us everything you know about Felldrake.”

“I did not get away with imprisoning Scrooge,” Magica protested, looking almost comically offended. “I lost my magic. To my own shadow.”

“Well you still managed to send nightmares at Lena, so clearly you’re doing well enough without magic,” Webby replied hotly. “Now tell us everything.”

Magica glanced again and sighed. “I meant it when I said I have a job to do,” she said, looking like a part of her soul left her body at the thought of doing her job. “My shift ends in an hour or so. Come to me then.”

“No, we want answers now – “

Violet cut Webby off. “Alright. We’ll meet you again in an hour. But be aware that we will monitor your movements, and we will know if you try to slip away.”

Magica snorted. “I have no plans to slip away.” Her gaze met Lena’s. “Besides, it has been a while since we last bonded, hasn’t it, Lena? I’m dying to know what you’ve been up to.”

Lena blinked. “…you are?”

“Shadow or not, you were still born from me,” Magica said. “Your wellbeing affects mine.” She tutted and smoothed her dress, then walked away, looking ridiculously graceful in the bumbling, contained chaos in the arcade. “See you in a bit, Lena.”

They decided to let Magica work and waited, sitting around the table Magica had just left and glancing around the arcade, mostly wordless. True to her words, Magica emerged an hour later, and Webby glared at her as she, Violet, and Lena walked closer. Magica simply gave them a once-over, then motioned for them to follow her.

She led them to the beach, near a small pier where the waves crashed against the wooden support beams. Webby purposefully walked right at the shoreline, tracking how the seawater lapped at the sand slowly drifted back to the blue expanse, letting it run through her feet and dragged back, pulling sand as it moved back and making her feel like it was trying to pull her, too, into the sea.

Magica settled only steps away from the pier, daintily perching on a rock and folded her arms. “Well? Ask away.”

“Tell us about why you think Felldrake is bad news,” Violet said, taking control over the conversation. “That was where we left off, earlier.”

Magica sighed. “He is a strong enough sorcerer to have been able to defeat and imprison a minor deity. Is that not proof enough that he is not to be meddled with?”

Webby blinked. “You know about Xandra?”

“Everyone who knows who’s who knows about Xandra,” Magica said.

“Okay, but from what you said it sounds like there are other things he did,” Lena pressed. “I want to know what we’re getting into.”

“It’s only rumors.”

“It’s better than nothing.”

Magica leaned back, frowning in thought. “The rumors of him being sealed is far reaching,” she began. “No one knows for sure what he looks like these days, but it was fairly clear he’s been sealed. Sightings of that pet of his has been whispered about but it’s sporadic at best. If you ask for rumors of Felldrake, specifically, I can offer you nothing but useless hearsays and things you’ve already known. Rumors of a goose in purple, however…”

Webby shifted. “Tell us,” she said, too restless to let Magica take her time.

She didn’t account for the feeling of being submerged in midwinter lake when Magica answered, “Gold-touched people went missing around him. Not all of them are found. The few that are found are dead.”

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Scrooge walked into the bar and pushed it open, letting the bell ring melodiously as he stepped in. The bar wasn’t crowded at this time of day, but there were still some patrons about.

He didn’t have business with them. He did, however, have a business with the blond seated at the barstool, charming a poor man as she blatantly robbed him blind. Scrooge snorted and approached, ignoring the familiar blitz of curtains and masks he sometimes got around her.

Goldie saw him coming and leaned back with a lazy smile, giving him a slight wave. The feeling of curtains and masks dissipated, and Goldie peeked underneath. He smiled back and sat by her side, silently amused at how the man she had been flirting with was promptly ignored. The man looked equal parts relieved and disgruntled as he slipped away from his seat.

“Well, well, well, isn’t it our dear old Scroogie,” Goldie teased. “I wouldn’t have expected to see you here. What brings you about?”

Scrooge offered her a tight smile. “I’ll tell you in a bit,” he strained out. After ordering (and begrudgingly paying for) a drink, he turned to look at Goldie.

“It’s not often that you’re actually looking for me,” Goldie said. “What is the exciting news? Have you found another treasure to hunt? An interesting amulet, maybe a weapon of sorts?”

Scrooge leaned in and put his hand on Goldie’s shoulder, pulling her in so he could speak softly. He ignored the way her hand immediately reached to his pocket and spoke, “Louie’s been kidnapped.”

Her hand stopped as her eyes grew wide. “Louie?” she repeated dumbly.

He released her and straightened, nodding.

“But – why? Is it – “ her voice dropped to a whisper as she leaned in again. “Have they asked for ransom? I know you, you’re an extreme penny pincher, but you’d trade anything for your kids’ safety.”

“There is no ransom demand. I don’t think there will be one,” Scrooge told her, just as lowly. “We have some suspicion that he was taken because of… what he can do.” He gave her a meaningful look, hoping she’d understand.

She did. “That sounds… foreboding.”

“You don’t know half of it. Apparently Donald has fought the one who took Louie, before. The way he speaks of him makes it clear that Louie’s chance… isn’t really that great.”

Goldie looked aside, looking worried. It warmed Scrooge’s heart, that little bit of concern she showed. He took a deep breath and went on with his plan. “Goldie. I have a favor to ask.”

Goldie’s eyes widened. “What favor? I know I’m good at sneaking into places, but I don’t know how much risk I’m going to take with this.”

“It’s nothing like that,” Scrooge soothed. “I want you to look for something.”

“Look for what?”

This was it. Desperate hope swelled in Scrooge’s chest, and when he spoke, his words tumbled out in a rush. “We think the kidnapper might be looking for a specific magical object. Something that can grant one’s wish. If we can find one and beat him to the punch, we can save Louie before he gets hurt.”

“Will it make him pay attention to me?” Goldie asked with a frown. “If he specifically looks for people with… special talents, you might say, how safe will I be?”

“If he doesn’t know of what you can do, you’re most likely fine.” Scrooge searched her eyes, and when he found her uncertain, he took her hand and gripped tightly. “Goldie. You’re the single most resourceful adventurer I know of aside from me. You’re good at locating and getting treasures. If anyone has any chance of finding this hypothetical object, it’s you.” He met her eyes and pursed his beak. “I need to be here with my family. And I need to get my nephew back.”

Goldie sighed, looking conflicted. “Scrooge – “

“Please,” Scrooge whispered, and Goldie’s eyes widened. “You’re the only one I can think of to ask.”

Goldie stared for a long while, long enough that Scrooge had the growing urge to shift and fidget nervously. He pushed the impulse away and stared right back at Goldie instead.

After a long last, Goldie sighed, in defeat instead this time. “I don’t know if I can find what you want me to find,” she said, “but I’ll try to find it.”

Scrooge squeezed her hand. “Thank you, Goldie.”

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When Huey woke from his slumber, the room was dim. He blinked and felt the pillowcase against his cheek, briefly wondering what had happened, when he remembered that José had somehow managed to lead him and Dewey to their room and coaxed them to sleep.

He wasn’t sure why he was awake now. He could see slivers of reddish-gold light of the setting sun seeping through the curtains, so he hadn’t been asleep for long. Something felt niggling, though. Different from usual. He bent down to peek into Dewey’s space to check on him.

His brother’s gaze met him immediately, and a part of him knew that they had awoken at the same time. Dewey blinked at him and spoke, “Something’s wrong.”

Huey frowned. “Of course it is. Louie’s still missing.”

Dewey sat up, and Huey could tell he was frustrated – agitated – from the way he jerked around. “I know that, I mean – can’t you tell? It’s just… seriously, can’t you tell?”

Huey opened his mouth to answer, but stopped. The thing was, he knew what Dewey meant. That weird niggling sensation that he couldn’t begin to put words into kept poking him at the back of his mind. His face must have shown it, because Dewey looked at him triumphantly.

“See, you do know what I’m talking about,” he said.

“It could be nothing,” Huey argued. “We don’t know what that’s about. It could be because we know Louie’s been kidnapped, for all things.”

Dewey wilted a little, at that. “Yeah,” was all he managed to say as he curled to hug his knees.

Huey climbed down the ladder and sat on Dewey’s bed, giving him a one-armed hug. “I’m sure Uncle Donald will find a way to get Louie back,” he assured. Part of him wondered how much of it was for Dewey’s sake, and how much was for his own.

“I wish he can get him back now,” Dewey mumbled. “Huey, how do we know he’ll be okay?”

“Hey, give him some credits. Louie’s stronger than that.” Huey squeezed Dewey’s arm comfortingly even though his stomach churned uncomfortably at the thought.

“Yeah, but come on.”

Huey sighed and slumped a little, leaning into Dewey’s space, who readily supported him. He didn’t speak, but he knew Dewey understood his silence as agreement.

“We need to do something,” Dewey declared.

“Like what?” Huey challenged, more to coax Dewey than to be senselessly antagonistic. “We can barely control our magic.”

“Other things, then. Just… something.” Dewey leaned away so he could look at him in the eyes. “Huey, we can’t just do nothing.”

“Okay, but do you have any idea? Because I’m coming up empty.”

Dewey opened his mouth to answer, but stopped and looked away in obvious frustration. Huey reached out and patted his shoulder. “For what it’s worth, Fenton promised he’d be quick with the tracker.”

“I know, but still – “ the words died on Dewey’s tongue, and his eyes grew wide. Huey didn’t need to ask him what was wrong because he knew that he was feeling the same thing as Dewey.

It was like they had been pushed into slumber before, and they had finally snapped awake, and everything was brighter, sharper, louder than before. Their magic blared to life for the briefest second, flaring heat and jumping sparks suddenly and unexpectedly, and something undeniably green and gold and glittering danced just out of reach. Almost without him being aware of it, Huey dug deep and searched, and cooling gold met his own campfire warmth and Dewey’s intense lightning heat before retreating away, but it was undeniably there.

Huey moved first, scrambling to the ladder, but Dewey beat him to the floor by jumping down without much care. Both bolted to the door, practically racing down the stairs to reach the other occupants of the manor as soon as possible.

Uncle Donald was still in the room where they had gathered in with Panchito, José, and Xandra, but Mom, Uncle Scrooge, Webby, Lena, and Violet were nowhere in sight. Neither were Fenton and Gyro, but Huey hadn’t expected them to hang around for long, since they didn’t have anything they could build their tracker with in the manor. Mrs. Beakley, however, was also there, putting empty teacups onto a tray.

Uncle Donald looked up from the book he was reading – some ancient-looking tome Huey didn’t recognize. He frowned at Huey and Dewey and put a bookmark between the pages he was reading, then closed the book. “I thought you two were resting,” he said.

Dewey didn’t even bother trying to explain. “We felt Louie,” he said instead, and Huey nodded hurriedly when Uncle Donald’s eyes widened. “He’s awake.”

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It felt like being submerged in water, coldly detached with the voices around him muffled and feeling like he was floating weightlessly. He could feel glittering gold all around him, shining, but he was content to just float. Strange, a distant part of him observed, since gold usually beckoned to him, but this one felt more like a shine that hugged him tightly and was content to let him be.

A part of him realized it was because it was his own shine, around him. The rest didn’t particularly care.

And then, so quickly, so easily, the sensation popped like a soap bubble being poked, and the world came to an abrupt shift. Something snapped at his neck, and something tightened at his wrist and pricked in a way that was not physical at all. There was a flare of his magic, the gold that hugged him tightly, as it sharpened and receded. Distantly, campfire warmth and jumping sparks flared back in alert. He reached out to them almost instinctively, almost yearning, but the brush of their magic was brief.

Louie’s eyes snapped open as he tried to stifle a mix of a groan and a gasp – in its place, his breath hitched with a squeak. Disoriented, he was overcome with confusion and a little bit of panic – the last thing he remembered was trying to get the book Xandra was trapped in, then something circling his neck…

His fingers ghosted over his neck. There was nothing there but the fabric of his hoodie pooling around his shoulders. No ribbon-like spell that collared over his neck.

He pushed himself up as he glanced around, trying to take stock on where he was. It appeared that he had been laid down on a three-seat sofa when he was… unconscious? The room he was in was brightly lit, despite the red glare of the setting sun, with white walls and pillars and tall ceiling. It was clearly a room belonging to a fancy mansion, but a brief glance told him it had nothing on Uncle Scrooge’s manor.

With a deep breath, he walked to the door and tried to open it as quietly as he could. The door opened with a faint click, its well-oiled hinges silent when he swung it and slipped out. The cold tiles didn’t muffle his steps as well as the carpeted floor in the manor, but he had spent his childhood tiptoeing around Uncle Donald’s boat when he and his brothers wanted to sneak out. He knew how to keep his steps silent.

Not much luck on escaping a mansion with a layout he barely even understood, though. Soon, as he turned a corner, he came face to face with Leopold.

“Uh, hi?” he offered. Leopold didn’t even acknowledge his greeting and reached out to grab him instead. With more agility than he would have thought he had, Louie ducked and slipped through Leopold’s defenses and all but bolted away. He didn’t bother trying to be silent anymore, with his feet padding loudly and echoing deafeningly along the seemingly endless corridors of the mansion.

The sound of flapping wings chased him. He forced himself to run faster.

He barely thought over his decision to jump to the handrail of the stairwell and slid down smoothly, using his hoodie’s fabric to protect his torso and hoping it would offer less friction than his feathers. He could tell the door to freedom wasn’t far – mansions like these always had the grand stairwell nearby the main door, probably to show off how grand and fancy the stairwell was. Hope swelled as he landed on the floor and took off running again.

The hope was dashed, soon, just as a cane came out of nowhere and stumbled him over, breaking his momentum as he fell face first to the floor, the remaining force of his run sending him thudding painfully as he landed. He’d managed to break his fall with his hands, his palms bearing the brunt of the force. A sharp pain on his right wrist made him cry. Had he twisted his wrist?

Felldrake stepped closer to him, and Louie jumped, feeling himself tremble under the sorcerer’s gaze. He tried to scoot back, but winced when the wrist throbbed. He gulped nervously.

“How did you break out of the spell?” Felldrake asked, his voice a rumble that hid a building storm underneath.

Louie gulped again. “I don’t – I don’t know.”

Felldrake squinted his eyes at him and lifted his cane, lighting its end with some sort of spell and pointing it to Louie’s chest. He drove it down. Just as Louie flinch, a shimmering, translucent dome formed around him and intercepted the cane. Louie blinked at it, and realized belatedly that the bracelet Webby had woven for him had a faint spark that disappeared just as Louie focused his attention to it.

“The charm,” Felldrake spat. “Of course you’d have that charm, too.”

Louie took in a deep breath and realized belatedly he had, at some point, stopped breathing. The dome dissipated as Felldrake took away his cane. He flinched when Leopold landed with a thud behind him.

“Bring him back to the room, Leopold,” Felldrake told the creature. “Lock the door this time.”

“Okay, Daddy,” Leopold answered. He grabbed Louie roughly by the shoulders, and Louie realized bitterly that the bracelet didn’t help much with physical attacks. Or maybe him being grabbed to be imprisoned wasn’t that high of a priority. Leopold flapped his wings and supported Louie surprisingly comfortably as he made his way to the stairwell.

Just as they reached the stairs, Leopold paused and turned to Felldrake. “…Daddy? When will I see Mommy?” he asked.

Felldrake paused, just long enough to be suspicious. “Soon,” he settled at last.

“Okay.” Without much more preamble, Leopold brought Louie back to the room he was kept in, and locked the door.

With gritted teeth, Louie went to the windows to see if he could escape through there. This was just the second floor, he was sure he wasn’t that high up.

With a sinking feeling, he realized he was wrong when he got to the window. For one, the ridiculously tall ceilings meant he was about as high as being on the third floor instead of second, and the window was locked. He growled in frustration and looked away from the window. His gaze scanned the room as he wondered if there was something he could use.

His gaze landed on the bed and the thin blanket on it.

Louie took a deep breath. Ignoring the throbbing pain at his wrist, he marched to the bed and started to plan his escape.

#feather one divided #dt17 magic au #ducktales #ducktales 17 #webby vanderquack #lena de spell #violet sabrewing #scrooge mcduck #goldie o'gilt #huey duck #dewey duck #louie duck #donald duck #felldrake #leopold

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imagines-dreams · 5 years

Text

A Good Name - Tim Drake Imagine

Rating: PG

Warnings: fluff and future, and a flustered Robin

Summary: As a part of Young Justice, you have seen a lot of weird things. But being called (Y/n) Drake was by far the weirdest thing. (Aka I read a fic that I can’t remember the name of where Impulse called reader Mrs. Grayson and I took inspo from that idea to make one for Tim! Someone, aka @despitealldoubts-blog found the fic so here it is! Future Mrs. G by @cait-writes-stuff inspired this!)

Word Count: 2785

“Stand ready,” Nightwing commanded.

The four of you readied yourselves as the unknown source or ball of electricity formed and dropped a transportation device of some kind. It dropped right onto the floor, smoking and whirring, and when smoke billowed out of it, someone jumped out.

“Ta da!” A boy, bright red hair, white and red outfit with a yellow visor. You didn’t recognize him from any database you’ve seen. Not a notable hero or villain. Maybe a hacker or inventor, from the looks of the machine. Could be a thief, an aspiring supervillain, or just a big fan of superheroes.

The alarm went off. “Intruder Alert. Intruder Alert.”

“Computer, lock down cave,” Nightwing said.

Gar tilted his head. “Well, I think we found our unknown energy impulse.”

“Impulse,” the stranger mulled it over. “That’s so crash! Catchy, dramatic, one word.” He appeared by Nightwing’s side. “Like Nightwing.”

A speedster!

“And Robin.”

To you, “And Knockout.”

To Gar, “And Beast Boy.” He blinked.”‘Well, that’s two words.” He talked even faster, and soon, he was trying to explore the cave to find things. With a laugh and a mock salute, he was gone.

“You three, take him down.”

“On it, Nightwing!” you responded. You cracked your knuckles and ran alongside Robin and Beast Boy. You caught him in a hallway and with a smirk, you punched the ground. It splintered under your strength. He wouldn’t be able to run.

And you were wrong. Impulse, whatever his name was, ran up the wall and over your head, back to safer and sturdier ground. You groaned. Nightwing was not going to be happy.

Robin sped out from the kitchen, just to trip on some dispelled tile.

You giggled. It was worth it.

Robin stared at you. “Nightwing’s gonna kill you.”

You shrugged. “Nah, I’m good. It’s nice to see you fall on your ass, Robin. Shouldn’t you have wings or something?”

“Guys, come back,” Nightwing said. “I’ve got him.”

Your jaw dropped. “How…” You shook your head.

Robin laughed and patted your shoulder. “Come on.”

As Impulse explained himself, you grew more and more confused. Time travel was theoretica, and no one could agree on what would happen if it was achieved. Does time travel work so that what you do in the past is actually what happened in the past, like time travel was meant to happen and was accounted for in a neat timeline. Or, was there different timelines, and if so, does the previous timeline disappear or does it become an alternate universe all on its own.

You pressed your fingers against your temples. This was just a tad too much.

“So,” Robin concluded, “you’re a tourist from the future.”

“Why look so surprised. Half the meat at Comic Con are from my era.”

Robin rubbed his chin, and you knew that face. He was doubting the information he got. Trying to find the tells of a lie.

You crossed your arms. “If you’re from the future, you should be able to prove it.”

“Ah, well, my identity is kinda a tell, if you know what I mean. Superspeed, the red and gold.” He smiled up at all of you. “I’m Bart Allen, grandson of Barry Allen. You know, the Flash, Barry Allen.”

“Noted.” Garfield smirked. “Not believed, but noted.”

“What’s not to believe? I’ve got it all! The speed, the amazing good looks.” Impulse’s eyes lit up. “Frankly, I can’t wait to meet him. You know, back when he was still in his prime and all.”

Nightwing sighed. “Well, Bart, coming all the way from the future, you must have worked up a thirst.” He brought a cup of water to the intruder. Tracker, no doubt.

“Thanks!”He sipped the water. “Oh! Ah, you’re trying to get my DNA!” he spat into the water. “That’s such a Dick Grayson move.”

Robin’s eyes widened. “How did…” He looked at his mentor, and Nightwing, or well Dick, just stared at him, trying to figure it out himself.

“Aha! See, I know things that only someone from the future with an amazing Flash legacy to carry would know.” He looked at each of you, and without pause, said, “Dick Grayson, (Y/n) and Tim Drake, Garfield Logan.”

You bit your tongue. That was not your name. Your name was (Y/n) (Y/l/n), not (Y/n) Drake. And Tim? As in Robin’s name was Tim. Tim Drake? Your eyes caught his, Tim’s, and thank god for Garfield, because he spoke before the two of you could stutter about what just happened.

“Your name’s Tim? And your is, uh, Dick?” Garfield cringed.

You smiled as much as you can, and with heat still blooming in your cheeks, you laughed. “Gar, your name is Garfield, like that cat who hates Mondays.”

“Hey!” Garfield poked your chest. “I don’t like Mondays. So, I take that as a compliment.”

“You really shouldn’t,” Tim agreed.

“See, thank you.”

Garfield groaned and covered his face. “No wonder you two got married.”

Just like that, Tim and you looked anywhere else but each other.

“Oops. Spoilers.” He shrugged. “The secret identity is so retro. You can call me anything. Impulse, Bart, Bart Impulse Allen. All’s crash.”

“He can’t actually be telling the truth,” Robin, Tim, insisted. “He can’t be from the future.”

Garfield leaned in close. “Tell us something we don’t know! Yet.” The boy smiled, so proud of himself. “So, when do I become leader? Or part of the Justice League! Or, hear me out, my reality show? Good answers only.”

“Sorry, BB. Never was the best at history. Plus, I shouldn’t say any more spoilers as to alter the timeline. I mean, now, Tim and (Y/n) might not get married and have Jack and Anna. Oh, god, we will all be feeling the mode.”

Jack and Anna. “Kids?” You gulped and looked to Tim. Sure enough, he was staring at you, too. There was something in his eyes, behind the mask, that screamed surprise and awe, and you weren’t sure how to take that. Tim was your best friend on the team. Maybe not your best friend ever, since he didn’t know your name and you didn’t know his until after Impulse, but still.

He was so amazing, really. Intelligent, strategic, hard-working. You still got surprised every time he actually wanted to spend time with you.

And then, this kid from the future is telling you that that guy, your best super friend and the smartest person on the team, falls in love with you? Has kids with you?

Then, Impulse escaped. Beast Boy went after him, and Tim was back to clearing his throat and forgetting all the information he had just received.

You sighed. “I’m gonna go train. And, uh, Nightwing?”

“What did you do?”

“Nothing!” You pursed your lips. “Just, you know, some slightly chipped, broken, maybe possibly shattered tile in hallway B6.”

“Knockout-”

“Ok, bye!” You ran off to the gym. Nightwing had too much on his mind. He wouldn’t go after you just yet.

So, you took deep breaths. When you entered your small, personal gym, it came to life. The light turned on, and your playlist filled the air. You sighed. “Computer, I need you to search for Tim Drake.”

“On it, Knockout.”

As you worked out, you kept asking your room questions and pieced together bits of information.

“I need a list of billionaires who operate business at least once a month in Gotham,” you said, as you stared at the wall of holograms during your cooldown. “Cross reference the list with the list of people associated with Tim Drake.”

“The list consists of seven people.”

“Read them out, please.” You gulped down water and listened.

“Anthony Edwards, Roberta Stark, Bruce Wayne, Lex Luthor-”

“Wait.” You stared at the profiles of these people. Seven people that were both associated with Gotham and Tim. Only one of them fit the bill of eccentric billionaire who takes in kids and fights crime with only a tight suit and fancy gadgets.

“Bruce Wayne,” you whispered. “Computer, pull up a picture of Batman next to Mr. Wayne.” Oh my god, how did no one figure it out sooner. They even had a similar physique. “Who are children that are associated with Mr. Wayne?”

“Dick Grayson-”

“Aka Nightwing.”

“-Barbara Gordon-”

You’d recognize that bright red hair anywhere. “Batgirl.”

“-Jason Todd-”

The old Robin.”

“-and Tim Drake.”

You gulped. Four kids, just like how there were four kids under Batman. Two of which were named by the kid from the future.

“Pull all of their pictures up, along with Nightwing, Batgirl, Robin three years ago and Robin now.” All of their physical profiles were similar. Even Jason’s and Robin’s. And Robin’s disappearance was near Jason Todd’s reported death. Robin’s reappearance matched the year Bruce and Tim’s dad, Jack Drake, were acquainted.

You stood back and laughed. “Wow.” You were sitting one of the biggest secrets in history. You knew who Batman was! The Batman! You knew who Robin was, who Nightwing was, who Batgirl was. You knew all of their secret identities.

“I knew you’d figure it out.”

“Robin!” Your computer hid all the files. “Find what out? Nothing to see here.”

“Mhm. Computer?”

“Yes, Robin?”

“Bring up the previous files.”

“Of course.”

You gasped. “Wait! No-” And all your files of the Batman and his associates appeared on the wall behind you. You shook your head. “Thanks, Computer.”

“You’re welcome, Knockout.”

You stared at your feet and joked, “I really should program Computer to detect sarcasm.” you turned to your data. “I still can’t believe no one knows. I mean, it’s obvious.” You pointed at Mr. Wayne. “This guy is one of the only billionaires who operates in Gotham weekly, and Batman is known to have multiple, custom made gadgets. Even if he made them himself, he’d need a lot of money to maintain that, so billionaire is in the description.

“Then, there’s the fact that Batman has many sidekicks or associates or what have you. So that means the the billionaire must be associated with kids, maybe even adopt them. And Mr. Wayne adopted two kids as his wards. The first one of the two being an orphaned trapeze artist who was adopted around the time that Robin showed up for the first time. And it helps that Robin was known to do amazing tricks and stunts when locking up criminals.”

With all the pictures and articles around you, you couldn’t help but wonder. “I mean, it’s obvious.”

Robin laughed. “To us, it is.”

You tilted your head. “Us?”

He nodded. “Computer, can search for a video with the keywords, ‘Grayson,’ and ‘quadruple somersault’?”

Two videos popped up, one of which was a small boy performing the very difficult trick.

“The second one. Now, Computer, bring up footage of Penguin and Robin about six years ago next to it, please.”

The two videos played at the same time, and you saw why Tim brought it up. The kid in the first video was a young trapeze artist, Dick Grayson. The second video had Robin perform the same difficult trick when he defeated Penguin.

You laughed. “That’s how you found out?”

“I saw Dick perform when I was a kid. I recognized it in this video, and when I thought I needed to, I approached Bruce.”

You blinked. “When you needed to?”

His shoulders dropped, and suddenly, you knew what Tim meant. Batman needed a Robin, and the only time he was without one was when Jason, the second Robin, died at the hands of the Joker. Tim sought out Mr. Wayne after that. “You don’t have to,” you said.

Tim smiled, but it was forced. “Thanks.”

You rubbed his shoulder. “You’e really smart for figuring that out at the age of what?” You looked at the Penguin’s video date. “Age of nine? Damn, Robin.”

“Yeah, I am smart,” he admitted. “I’m also smart enough to know you’re avoiding the topic we should really be talking about.”

Blood pooled into your cheeks. You took your hand off his shoulder and laughed. “What do you mean avoiding? I’m not avoiding anything.” You pointed out, “Plus, it could just mean I’m adopted or that we happen to have the same last name later on in the future or something.”

Tim raised his eyebrow. “Impulse said, ‘Have Jack and Anna’.”

“So?”

“So, use that smart brain of yours.”

You grimaced. “Are we really going to talk about it?”

“Yes, we are. We’re a team, (Y/n), and whatever happens, this” - he pointed at the two of you- “needs to stay in tact.” The superhero gulped. “I want it to stay in tact.”

You sighed. “Jack is your dad’s name, obviously, so the future he was talking about, well,” you laughed and pulled at your hair, “it means that we name a kid after your dad.”

“What do you think of Anna? Where’d that come from?”

You shrugged. “Could be anything.” You laughed. “All I thought was, ‘Wow, Anna Drake sounds like a good name.’” You shook your head. “Kinda ridiculous, huh?”

Tim was silent. Then, his cheeks turned red, and he turned away from you. You knew that look. He thought of something. He thought of something, and it was embarrassing enough that even the thought of of it made him blush.

“Nuh-uh.” It took two strides for you to be right in front of him. “No, you’re spitting it out. What is it?”

“Nothing!”

“Not according to those rosy red cheeks, Tim.” You pinched his cheek. “Come on, you can tell me.”

Tim shook his head and hit his own forehead. “It’s stupid.”

“Who cares?”

He sighed. “I thought, I was just gonna say, like, I don’t know.” He cleared his throat and glanced at you before looking at his boots. “I just, I think that (Y/n) Drake, it sounds like a good name, too.”

The smile you had so gleefully earned disappeared just like that. Not because you were embarrassed, although that was true. It wasn’t because you might marry Robin, aka Tim Drake, aka your best friend, or because you had been thinking of that name, your first name and his last name, for the past hour or two.

No, it was because he was right. (Y/n) Drake doesn’t sound bad.

“See!”

“Shut up.” You laughed and covered your face. “I don’t need this from you.”

“You asked for it!”

“I didn’t think you’d say that.” You exhaled a long and deep exhale and shook your head. You couldn’t let him do this to you. It didn’t matter that the two of you might be married later on. No, you had to get him back. You bit your lip and sauntered to him.

Tim’s eyes widened, and he froze. He stared at you, almost in awe of your newly found confidence, and even though your fingers shook, you couldn’t help but love the way he looked at you.

Your fingers brushed against his mask, and your eyes met his blue ones. When he didn’t do anything to stop you, you lifted the mask away from his face, and finally, his face was revealed to you.

You bit your lip and brushed his hair back. “You know, I don’t think Tim (Y/l/n) sounds too bad either.” You smiled up at him and played with one lock of hair that was out of place. “Goes well with this handsome face of yours.”

Tim gulped, and you could feel his heartbeat under his skin. It was frantic, but still, he didn’t move. Even when he sheeks got redder than yours, he didn’t move. He just smiled. “I, uh, I mean.” He cleared his throat. “Uh, you know, you being this close and playing with my, you know, hair and everything.” He gulped and looked down at his feet.

You giggled. “Run out of smoothness there, Robin?”

“Maybe,” he admitted.

Your cheeks hurt from smiling too much. You leaned your head on his chest. “It’s ok, that was all the smoothness I had.”

“All of it?”

“Yep.” You wrapped your arms around his waist and rested your chin on his chest. “No more smoothness from me. That was it. That was all of it.”

Tim smiled so softly and genuinely as he brushed your hair out of your face before resting them on your waist. “So no more smoothness from you?”

“Nope.”

“Not even on our first date?”

“Well, you got ask me that first?”

He laughed. “Ok then, Drake, what about a date?”

You hummed, as if in thought.

“Come on,” he pouted.

You laughed. “Yes, (Y/l/n), I’ll go on a date with you.”

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markleesthighs · 5 years

Text

Black Mamba | Chapter 6

Pairings: Reader x Mark Lee, Reader x Hendery, Reader x Jaehyun, feat. ot21

Genre: NCT mafia!au, angst, fluff, light smut (suggestive), comical

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of cheating and death

Words: 2.48k

【 ❶ ❷ ❸ ❹ ❺ ➅ ❼】

Chapter 6 - Lost

You woke up with your vision being very blurry, you woke up expecting to be in a room where you are tied up or bruised up lying on the cold floor. But you were in a bed with luscious and comfy pillows and comforters. You were alone in bed and confused about where you were. You were dressed in silk pajamas and had no idea where your weapons went. (You always carried them with you) You felt very unsafe. A butler came in startling you.

“Ah, you're up madam, please get dressed and have breakfast in the dining room, which is down the staircase to your right.”

You awkwardly got up from the bed as he left your room. You opened the closet to see a surprising amount of clothes that you would personally wear, it was almost an exact replica of the closet in your room. You put on a Gucci leather jacket, ripped black jeans at the knee and a white tank underneath. You walked downstairs with your silk slippers and noticed seven other guys sitting down at the table. They looked as if they had been expecting you. You quietly walked over and sat across from who you assumed was the leader. You didn’t eat anything yet, feeling that you had to wait for someone to tell you something before you could eat or even breathe.

“Y/n, so lovely for you to join us, please eat some breakfast, then we will talk.”

Why were they so nice? You took a few slices of watermelon, bacon, and waffles and slowly ate in silence as the rest of the guys kept talking. You were finished and walked over to the sink to put the dishes as you were about to wash them one of the tall guys grabbed the plate from your hands and spoke to you.

“I’ll clean them for you, you go sit down on the couch.”

You walked and sat on the couch as the guys kept talking at the dining room table. You looked around at the decor around you. The house had very modern decor that made it look elegant, there were numerous awards on the walls and expensive chandlers hanging from the ceiling. It is clear that he is a successful mafia, most likely one of the best in the area. The one who you presumed was the leader, walked over to you and sat across from you in a chair.

“Alright, I’m going to make this short and simple for you. Mark has something he owes us, but we have something he needs, so you are technically being held hostage for a while.”

“Is anything happening to Mark?”

“If he doesn’t bring what he needs, he will.”

“Do I get to at least to get to know your names? If I’m going to be here a while?”

“Ah, yes, I’m sorry for being rude, I’m Jackson. That tall one over there is Yugyeom and the one taking notes and calls is Jaebum, but you can call him JB. The one drinking soup is Mark, the one eating bacon is Jinyoung, the one humming to music is Youngjae, and the one that keeps dabbing is BamBam. For the time being, make yourself at home, walk around, we do have eyes on you everywhere.”

They were not joking about that you walked to go to the bathroom and there were guards at practically every entrance, every hallway had multiple hidden cameras, and the doors could only be unlocked by the members of staff. You had bodyguards following you everywhere except for the bathroom and your bedroom. Balcony doors and windows also were locked, so it would be impossible to find it. Quickly the day passed, you had lunch and got to know all of the boys. It was around 6:00 and you had time. You found yourself wander into a bedroom and immediately knew whose it was.

There were almost all Fendi clothes in his closet, he had a huge Chinese character “wang” hanging up on the wall. You walked and saw pictures on his dresser. Most of them were his members, other friends, and you tried to look for a picture of his family, but you later found more pictures on the bedside table. You walked over and found a picture of your mom??? Another one was your dad?? You saw on the other table it was a picture of you, when you were about five, picking flowers. Jackson was your brother, who you have not seen in 18 years. You soon heard the cocking of the gun, and you knew it was Jackson.

“Put that picture down.”

You put it down and looked at him and said

“I’m your sister.”

“Nice one, she died about 5 years ago, so don’t lie to me.”

“Jackson please, how can I prove it to you.”

“Come.”

You followed him into what looked to be an interrogation room, and he sat you down and held a book that looked old, since all of the pages were almost yellow, and the pages looked crinkled. You also had gotten tied down, to ensure that you wouldn’t take this chance to escape since all members were present.

“Once I say the spell if you are indeed my sister, it will give me the proper response, if not, you might pass out for a couple of hours, are you sure you want to go through with this?”

“Yes.”

You had never been more certain of anything else in your life.

“I call to summon the Wang family eye

From the far lands and dark sky

Reveal to me what another can’t see

Open the eyes and be free

Those eyes once filled with tears they bled

Show me the flame show me the red

If not they shall be filled with black and flood

Now show me the eyes only passed on by blood!”

You felt your eyes glow a red and you were levitating leaning towards Jackson who appeared to look like he was crying. The chair delicately floated back down, and Jackson ran to hug you.

“Um, I’m still tied up…”

“Oh, right.”

Jackson untied you and held you tight, and you felt that you couldn’t breathe. You felt his tears rolling down his cheeks.

“y-y/n, I missed you s-s-so much.”

The rest of the group was crying, looking at both of you.

“Is this where you had been the whole time?”

“Y-yeah”

You realized that this was your old house. Jackson had renovated it, making it more modern. But the hallways and rooms were mostly the same. You then realized that your dad’s company was a mafia gang, and Jackson had been running this ever since. But soon after you heard a door burst open and a few gunshots had been fired.

“Shit. Looks like your boyfriend is here.”

Jackson got up along with the other boys out the door.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Mark and his little posse.”

“Where is she”

Jackson gestured you to step forward and held you next to him. Mark stepped out to try and grab you, but Jackson stopped him.

“No, no, no, not until you give us what we asked for Mark.”

“Here”

he slid a suitcase over to Jackson, and he opened it filled with what looked like over ₩11,795,700,000 in cash.

“You know what else you owe us. We want our drug dealing hotspots back.”

“You know we fought for those fair and square, it's not our fault your men can’t defend well.”

“Don’t test me Lee, or she will suffer.”

Jackson held a gun to your head as your eyes filled with tears and they started to roll down your cheek. Was he really going to kill his sister?

“Let her go Jackson.”

“Not until you give us back those hotspots.”

“We are not giving those back.”

They were at a standoff, and there was tension in the air, you prepared yourself to duck or hear a gunshot. Mark stared at you can give a signal to duck as you saw from behind Mark Johnny shoot Jackson in the side of his arm as he fell. Soon all the gunshot went crazy. Mark went after Jackson as the rest of his group started to attack GOT7. Punches, guns, and knives were being thrown everywhere. You heard Jackson and Mark yelling as you grabbed a gun dropped on the floor and ran to go find both of them.

They were in Jackson’s bedroom. You ran in and saw them throwing each other all over the place. It was a heartbreaking sight. Seeing your boyfriend and your brother fight. You couldn’t bear to see it. Jackson and Mark punching each other and throwing each other into the wall. It made you feel light-headed to see them fight, and you started to cry really hard. You felt your body go weak and felt lightheaded. You soon found yourself collapsing by the doorway with your name being screamed as your vision went blurry.

“Y/N! Y/N!”

You saw someone running towards you as he picked you up and you wrapped your arms around his neck as you noticed it was Jaehyun carrying you in a rush. He looked at you in worry as you took one of your hand as held his cheek you smiled lightly. He looked at you and smiled as your vision went black again.

You woke up in a different bed that wasn’t yours…or Mark’s. You looked around and could not figure it out. That was until you saw Jaehyun with only a towel and you looked away blushing and playing with your necklace.

“Y/n are you okay? I put some painkillers and water next to you in case.”

“Oh, thank you.”

Your head didn’t hurt, but you drank some water. You also noticed you were dressed in just your underwear and a big shirt, which you assumed was Jaehyun’s.

“You can change if you want, I’d understand since Mark would get jealous or something.”

“No, it’s okay, it’s just a shirt.”

You just looked at Jaehyun in silence as he went to go change in the bathroom. You decided to walk out when you saw Mark and a/n talking in the living room. A/n seemed to me cleaning Mark’s wounds and putting ice on his bruises.

“Mark, I’m so sorry for the way I behaved at the ball, I know you still love me.”

You saw Mark smile and kiss her cheek.

“Always”

“Is y/n okay?”

“Yeah she was fine, just overacted a little bit. It was a little annoying.”

So kissing me and telling me you loved me was annoying? Ridiculous. You immediately ran to the balcony of Jaehyun’s room and ripped off the necklace he gave you and threw it into the abyss of the garden. You started to cry and lean on the balcony railing as Jaehyun noticed and ran up to you.

“Y/n, what’s wrong?”

“M-mark, n-n-never loved me, did he?”

Jaehyun looked at you with sad and sympathetic eyes.

“Do you want to an honest answer, y/n?”

“Yes”

“He did love you in the beginning, wouldn’t stop talking about you. But when it was nearing your anniversary, he complained about you more. He constantly sad you were annoying, treating him like a baby. He wanted you because he knew you wanted him. But when he noticed you got friendly with the rest of us, he called you a slut and an attention whore. I didn’t stay after he mentioned that, but I can say that he most likely said worse afterward. He said he can get anyone he wanted and he knew how desperate you were for him, which is why he went after you I guess, to ensure that you still wanted him. He tried everything to make sure you only thought of him, meaning he would get in the way of any chance for you to move on. He was selfish, I’m sorry for telling you this.”

“…”

“y/n?”

“Thank you. For telling me.”

You leaned on Jaehyun’s warm shoulder as you silently cried as he rubbed your back and played with your hair.

“One second, Jaehyun”

You left his arms as you immediately walked down to see Mark and a/n still talking. You coughed as Mark noticed and looked at you in Jaehyun’s shirt which was a dress on you. He grabbed your arm and asked to talk to you privately as you both walked into a hallway.

“Why is this on you?”

“Why do you care?”

“Give me an answer, y/n.”

“Jaehyun gave it to me. What’s it to you?”

“You’re mine, not someone else’s.”

“No. I am not.”

“What?”

“I’m not your property, you do not ‘own’ me, I am my own person, and I get to choose what to do with my life.”

“I just killed a man for you, the one who was holding you hostage? Is that not enough for you?”

“You killed…Jackson?”

“Yeah? Who else?”

You immediately started to break down and punch Mark, where he was bruised by your brother.

“Ow. OW! Y/n!! WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!!”

“YOU KILLED MY BROTHER YOU ASSHOLE!!” “HE DESERVED TO BE KILLED, HE HAS BEEN OUR BIGGEST COMPETITION ALL YEAR!”

“THAT’S ALL YOU CARE ABOUT YOUR FUCKING POWER, YOU DON’T EVEN CARE ABOUT HOW MUCH THIS HURTS ME RIGHT NOW! JACKSON WAS MY ONLY FAMILY LEFT, AND YOU LEFT HIM TO DIE BEFORE ASKING HIME ANYTHING. GOD, YOU ARE SUCK A HEARTLESS DICK MARK!”

You shoved Mark into the wall and walked passed him as you ran to Jaehyun’s room and hugged him with flooding tears. He picked you up and held you while you were still hugging him.

“F-first he breaks my heart, then he kills my brother, officially the worst day, ever.”

“I tried to warn him not to kill him.”

“You knew?”

“I had to do a background check on you before we hired you, I knew you were a connection to GOT7 if we ever needed it, but I guess that’s gone now. I’m so sorry y/n, and I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you, Jaehyun. For being the only one who. Cared for me. You cared about who I was as a person, didn’t use me, and made sure I was alright.”

“Of course, I worry about you a lot y/n.”

You let go of Jaehyun as you looked into his eyes and you leaned in to kiss him. It was a soft and sweet kiss with your tears flowing down your cheek.

“I love you y/n, you know that.” “…”

“I will always be here for you.”

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